#which i shall reblog momentarily

[birdthatisbored]

Hi bird!

I’m glad to see you join the round icon gang 🖤 Can you please tell us about that coin? Thank youuuu!

Hiiiii thank you I do enjoy a good circle :)

It's the 2nd place mathematics medal that John Irving won in school in 1830 when he was fifteen! It was found on King William Island in 1879 by Frederick Schwatka and his men near the grave of who we assume to be Irving based on the medal and other artifacts found there. They brought the skeleton back to Scotland and buried him in Dean cemetery in Edinburgh in 1881 under a gravestone that includes a carving of the medal.

I don't know where the medal went after that, whether it was reburied with him or given to the family or kept by someone else, or where it is now but it haunts me day and night. I hate the idea that something that was so important to him that he carried it to his grave was taken from him after death but I recognise that's just me being abnormal about him lol. On the other hand I do think it's funny that he seemingly carried around a memento of That Time He Won Something for 18+ years but also. Relatable as fuck. I love you John.

(the full picture showing both sides of the medal and a picture of the carving of it on his grave)

[lizzyiii]

hi!! i have a request! what about a one shot for aemond x reader who is betrothed to him. she’s a baratheon girl or something but she gifts him the sapphire for his eye as a wedding gift or something along the lines of that?

ask and you shall receive...

The Sapphire Gift

pairing | aemond targaryen x baratheon!reader

word count | 5.1k words

summary | Of all his five daughters, Borros Baratheon has chosen you to be betrothed to Aemond Targaryen, much to your dismay. Seeking to forge a deeper connection with your betrothed, you decide to create the perfect wedding gift for him.

tags | fluff, fluff, toothrotting fluff, friends to lovers, aemond literally does not know how to communicate or court a lady, sarcastic!reader, awkward!reader, simp!Aemond, reader is just a typical seventeen-year-old girl, lowkey got second hand embarrassment writing this.

a/n | ooooh, this was so cutesy to write, I love writing awkward/sassy reader and simp/awkward aemond. Finished this in a solid 2 days💪. ALSOO I need moots, so anyway wanna volunteer as tribute????

likes, comments, reblogs are always appreciated ✨

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Why must it be me?”

Your voice echoed through the grand hall of Storm’s End, the walls adorned with the sigil of the mighty Baratheons. You stood before your father, Borros Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End, arms crossed defiantly, your brows knit in frustration.

“Because I have chosen you,” he replied, a casual shrug dismissing your protests, as he lounged upon the imposing ironwood throne that commanded the room. The flickering torches cast shadows across his weathered face, but his resolve remained steadfast.

Your heart sank further as you protested, “You have four other daughters to choose from!”

Borros began to tally your sisters on his fingers, his expression serious yet unconcerned. “Cassandra is already pledged to House Brownhill, Maris is too old to be of interest, and Floris is still but a child. Ellyn might have been a contender, but she reminded me that you are more closely aligned in age to the prince, which I daresay makes you more appealing to his eye.”

You bit back a curse aimed at Ellyn, whose selfishness felt like a betrayal in this moment, and muttered, “Emphasis on the word ‘eye’.”

“Fawn!” your father snapped, the nickname a remnant of your childhood, now wielded like a blade.

With a huff, you cast your gaze towards your mother, Lady Elenda, seated on a modestly adorned stool that contrasted starkly with your father’s opulence. Her fingers deftly worked at her embroidery, her belly round and pregnant with another child. “Mother, do you have naught to say about this?”

Elenda blinked slowly, her expression momentarily vacant before she smiled dreamily, “I have heard the prince is kind and benevolent,” she replied, her tone light and airy as your father nodded approvingly at her words.

You gasped, a hand flying to your chest in disbelief. “That is a complete and utter falsehood! Tales of his cruelty and wickedness abound, even in these halls. How could you deceive me so?”

Borros waved a dismissive hand, the irritation brewing like a storm within him. “So what if he has but one eye? He commands Vhagar, the largest dragon in the realm, and wields a sword as if it were an extension of his very arm. You shall ascend to the rank of princess, lacking for nothing.”

“But Father—”

“Enough!” His voice boomed, reverberating off the stone walls and silencing the murmurs of guards and servants alike. You could feel the weight of his anger pressing down upon you. Sighing heavily, you rolled your eyes, the gesture laden with pettiness. “This matter is settled. Prepare yourself; tonight we shall feast in honor of your betrothal. Do not sulk—it is unbecoming of a future princess.”

With a final glare that could wither a flower, you turned on your heel, storming away from the throne room, your heart heavy with the weight of your new fate.

King’s Landing was an entirely different realm compared to the windswept fortress of Storm’s End. Here, the sun cast a golden glow over the Red Keep, its warmth caressing the bustling streets of Flea Bottom, while in your home, rain seemed a constant companion, drenching the rugged cliffs and soaking through the halls of your ancestral seat.

The city thrummed with life—vibrant and teeming—overwhelming in its sheer size and noise. In contrast, Storm’s End felt desolate, where the only sounds were the howling gales and crashing waves that eternally assaulted its walls.

Settling into the royal court at the Red Keep was no easy feat, for you were keenly aware of the eyes that followed your every move. You quickly learned that here, every smile concealed secrets, and every word was a weapon to be wielded.

Queen Alicent Hightower, the Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, carried herself with grace befitting her station. Her demeanor was gentle, yet there was a steeliness in her eyes that hinted at the strength behind her polished exterior. On your very first day in court, she welcomed you with a kind smile, her piety clear as she extended an invitation to join her at the Great Sept for prayer.

Her tone was soft, but her words carried the weight of duty. You accepted her offer, though the idea of spending time in such hallowed halls made you uneasy. Alicent's warmth masked the political currents swirling beneath the surface, and you were acutely aware that every gesture here had meaning beyond what was said.

Then there was her eldest son, Prince Aegon. The first time you laid eyes on him, he reeked of wine, his eyes glazed and unfocused. Despite his title, he carried none of the nobility one would expect from a dragon’s heir. His indulgences were well-known, and his lack of decorum often left the court murmuring in hushed tones.

Aegon's gaze lingered on you far too long for comfort, the weight of it unsettling, as if he sought something that wasn’t his to take. His lecherous nature made you feel for his sister-wife, Princess Helaena, who appeared as trapped by her marriage as she was by the walls of the Red Keep. It was said that Aegon had grown old before his time, his twenty-one years bearing the burden of his vices.

Princess Helaena was a stark contrast to her husband. There was an otherworldly grace to her, a softness that seemed untouched by the cruelties of life. She spoke in riddles, her voice often drifting into ethereal musings that left you both puzzled and intrigued. Her words, though strange, reminded you of the whispers of the gods in dreams, distant yet profound.

Her presence was soothing, and you found solace in her company, even if her mind wandered to places you could not follow. Her children, Jaehaera and Jaehaerys, were a light amidst the shadows of the court, their laughter pure and untainted by the scheming that surrounded them. It was hard to reconcile that they were the offspring of Aegon.

But your thoughts always returned to one person—your betrothed, Prince Aemond Targaryen. From the moment you arrived in King’s Landing, you had been told stories of his fearsome prowess in battle, his unmatched skill with the sword, and the fearsome dragon, Vhagar, that answered his call.

Yet when your eyes met his for the first time, what struck you most was not his strength but the scar that marred his face—a reminder of the price he had paid for his ambition. It only added to his allure, a mark of his relentless determination. When he took your hand and pressed a kiss to it, a slow heat rose in your cheeks. His grip was firm but not unkind, and in that moment, you felt yourself swoon. After all, you were just a girl.

However, Aemond was not a man easily won. A moon had passed since your arrival, and with your wedding fast approaching, you had hoped to spend time in his company, to know the man behind the dragonprince’s mask. Yet, he seemed to slip away from you at every opportunity, his presence a fleeting shadow that vanished the moment you tried to reach for him. His evasions frustrated you, each refusal to join you in the gardens or to share a quiet moment only deepened the chasm between you.

It was said that dragons could not be tamed, only respected. But you longed for more than respect from your future husband. How could you hope to win Aemond's heart if he remained as distant as the stars that twinkled in the night sky?

Determined to change your fate, you devised a plan—a gift to offer Aemond before the wedding, something personal and meaningful that might draw him closer to you. From your balcony, you had often watched him train, his sword catching the sunlight as he moved with lethal grace. You had also stalked observed him in quieter moments, lost in the pages of ancient tomes in the Red Keep’s vast library. But no matter the scene, your gaze always drifted to the black leather patch over his left eye, a constant reminder of his loss.

Through whispered conversations among the ladies of the court, you had pieced together the story of that eye, taken from him when he was but twelve, during a violent skirmish with his own nephew. The knife had found its mark, leaving him disfigured and scarred in more ways than one. You could hardly imagine the pain he endured, the maester's delicate, grim task of removing what remained. The very thought sent a chill through you—what it must have felt like to be forever changed, to carry such a wound into manhood.

Jewelry had always enchanted you, especially the way it could transform even the simplest of gowns into something regal. And it was through that love of adornment that inspiration struck. Aemond needed something beautiful, something that would not only adorn him but perhaps bring a glimmer of warmth to that hardened exterior.

After much thought, you settled on a sapphire, deep and blue like the narrow seas, cut and shaped like an eye—a symbol of his lost strength and newfound resilience. It was a bold choice, one that you hoped would capture his attention, something that might resonate with the prince who had suffered so much.

With the sapphire crafted into an exquisite piece of jewelry, you wrapped it carefully, your heart filled with anticipation. The wedding drew closer with each passing day, and the idea of giving Aemond this token before the vows were exchanged consumed your thoughts. Would such a gift be enough to draw him out of the shadows, to make him see you as more than just his betrothed but as someone who truly wished to know him?

Desperation fueled your resolve. You decided to visit his chambers, scandalous though it might be, under the cover of night. It was unheard of for a lady to seek out a man in such a manner, but propriety seemed insignificant in the face of your growing desire to understand him.

Wrapped in a dark cloak to hide your identity from prying eyes, the gift cradled carefully in your hand, you navigated the winding, dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep. The moon hung high above the castle, casting eerie shadows along the stone walls as you walked with purpose toward his door.

Apprehension seized you as you approached, a wave of doubt crashing over you. What if he rejected your offering? What if he saw it as nothing more than a futile attempt to win his affection, which it kind of was. Yet before those thoughts could take root, you steeled yourself and knocked firmly on the heavy oak door, your heart pounding in your chest.

Moments passed in silence, each one stretching endlessly until, at last, you heard the soft thud of boots approaching from within. The door creaked open, and there he stood—Prince Aemond Targaryen. His long, silver hair cascaded freely over his shoulders, almost camouflaged against the loose white shirt he wore, which clung to the contours of his lean, muscular frame.

His single violet eye regarded you with a mixture of surprise and caution, the flickering light of the torches casting shadows across his sharp features. You found yourself momentarily breathless, caught off guard by the quiet intensity of his presence.

His gaze flicked to the dark cloak you wore, then back to your face, a question lingering unspoken between you. “My lady,” he began, his voice slow and deliberate, “it is late.”

You nodded quickly, casting a nervous glance down the dimly lit corridor. “Yes, I realize. May I come in?”

His lips tightened as though he was about to refuse, but before the words could escape him, you slipped past the threshold into the warmth of his chambers, your heart racing with a mix of adrenaline and nervous energy.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your gaze darting around the room, absorbing the details: the few books strewn across the table, the rich, intricate tapestries that adorned the stone walls, and the soft glow of firelight dancing in the hearth.

Aemond's voice was closer than expected when he spoke again. “My lady,” he repeated, causing you to jump slightly at his nearness.

You turned abruptly, releasing a nervous laugh. In the next moment, you remembered the purpose of your visit and hastily thrust the small, wrapped parcel into his hands. “I—I’ve brought you a gift.”

His brow furrowed in surprise as he looked down at the object now resting in his palm. “A gift?”

You offered a tight, awkward smile, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. “A wedding gift, of sorts.”

You watched intently as he carefully opened the small package, revealing the deep blue sapphire you had commissioned. His expression remained guarded, though curiosity danced in his gaze. “What is this for?” he asked, his voice even.

Swallowing hard, you wrung your hands together and took a deep breath. “I thought… perhaps you might wear it in place of your eye patch.”

Aemond's eyebrow arched, his lone eye narrowing in sharp scrutiny. “A decoration for my injury?” There was no malice in his tone, but the words still cut deep.

Your heart sank, panic rising in your chest as you hurried to explain. “No, no! Not like that. I only thought…” Your voice faltered as the words tumbled out, your face flushing with embarrassment. “I thought the eye patch might be… suffocating at times. The sapphire—it’s strong and regal, like you. I thought it might be more—well, appealing. Not that your injury is unappealing, of course!”

You cringed inwardly, realizing how foolish you must sound. Eyes cast downward, you continued, “Sapphires are a symbol of wisdom, strength, and royalty. It felt fitting for you. But if I’ve overstepped, I’ll take it back.” You bit your lip, the weight of your own awkwardness pressing down on you. “Truly, it’s alright.”

Reaching out to reclaim the stone, you found your hand halted by his. His touch was firm, yet not unkind. “No,” Aemond said, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “I accept your gift, my lady.”

Relief flooded through you, though you could hardly bear to meet his gaze under the weight of your own mortification. Without thinking, you blurted out the first excuse that came to mind. “Oh! I just remembered—I’m to have tea with your mother.”

Aemond's gaze drifted to the window where the full moon hung high in the night sky. He raised an eyebrow, a subtle amusement curling at the edge of his lips. “At this hour?”

You nodded hastily, your laugh high-pitched with nerves. “Yes, well, a late tea, you see.”

Before he could respond further, you turned toward the door, only to misjudge the frame and bump into it with an audible thud. The embarrassment was almost too much to bear. “I wish you a good night, my prince,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as you hurried out.

As you fled down the darkened corridor, you missed the rare sight behind you—the amused smirk that tugged at Aemond's lips and the way his expression softened as he gazed down at the sapphire, the light of the fire casting its blue hue across his hand. Intrigue flickered in his eye, a hint of something deeper, as he tucked the gem into his palm, the gift having made a more lasting impression than you could ever have imagined.

And now it was you doing everything in your power to avoid your betrothed. After that utterly humiliating encounter, where you had gifted Prince Aemond the sapphire for his eye, you had nearly thrown yourself from the balcony in shame. Every misstep, every nervous word, echoed relentlessly in your mind. The way he had looked at you, as though you were nothing more than a foolish girl… you could hardly bear it.

That night, you had made peace with a simple truth: it was perfectly acceptable if Aemond did not like you. You would fulfill your duty as his wife, give him heirs, and that would be the extent of your relationship. Yet, even as you tried to harden your heart, you couldn’t deny the yearning deep within you for something more—a connection, affection, or at the very least, understanding. But you’d sooner face a dragon than approach him again after such mortification.

Now, you found refuge in the company of Princess Helaena, sharing tea in her sunlit solar, where tapestries of butterflies and flowers adorned the walls. Helaena sat in her usual reverie, speaking in disjointed whispers about dreams and prophecies. You had grown fond of her strange, otherworldly nature, even if much of what she said left you puzzled.

Today, however, your tea was constantly interrupted by the young Princess Jaehaera, who was determined to climb into your lap as you attempted to drink. “You have such pretty hair,” she said, her small hands reaching to touch the loose strands that framed your face, her voice filled with innocent awe.

You smiled warmly, gently lifting a strand of her silver-gold hair to place beside your own. “Not as pretty as yours, my sweet princess,” you said softly. The Targaryen blood ran strong in the little girl, her pale locks shimmering like spun moonlight under the midday sun.

As Jaehaera continued to braid a piece of your hair, her twin brother, Prince Jaehaerys, was nestled in your lap, completely absorbed in a heavy tome recounting Aegon the Conqueror’s rise to power. You marveled at the child’s focus, noting how his somber demeanor contrasted starkly with his sister’s. It was strange, you thought, for a boy of only five summers to be so intent on reading a history so grim. His brow furrowed in concentration, a seriousness far beyond his years.

"You’ll grow to be as wise as your grandsire with all this reading, my prince," you commented with a chuckle, though you could not help but feel a touch of unease at how much the young boy seemed to carry the weight of his family’s legacy on his small shoulders.

Jaehaera giggled, abandoning your hair to cling to your arm. “I want to ride a dragon, like Vhagar!”

The mention of Vhagar brought an involuntary shiver down your spine, the thought of that ancient, fearsome beast ever-present in your mind. The mighty she-dragon’s rider, your betrothed, had taken to avoiding you as much as you had him, and though part of you was relieved, another part, buried deeper, ached at the distance.

As you entertained the children, Princess Helaena’s lilting voice broke the calm. "He dreams of fire and blood, my son," she said, her gaze unfocused as she stared at the window, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her cup. "As do we all."

You offered a polite smile, uncertain whether to respond or remain silent..

Your gaze shifted, drawn by the soft, deliberate sound of footsteps echoing through the confines of Helaena's solar. As you looked up, you immediately lowered your eyes, your heart racing, warmth flooding your cheeks as fluttering butterflies stirred restlessly in your stomach. Aemond strode through the door, his very presence commanding the room without a single word.

You felt his gaze upon you, sharp and intense. Jaehaera squealed with delight beside you, calling out, “Kepūs!” Her excitement was palpable as she clambered off your lap, rushing to his side. Even Jaehaerys, who had been so engrossed in his book, set it aside to greet his uncle.

You dared a glance up to find something unexpected—a soft, almost tender smile tugging at Aemond’s lips as he looked down at the children. The rare sight caught you off guard, but before you could process it, his expression shifted, and he cleared his throat, turning his attention to Helaena.

“Sister,” he began, his voice steady, respectful yet commanding. “Might I steal a moment of Lady Baratheon’s time?”

Helaena, oblivious to the way your pulse quickened, nodded lightly, her gentle smile untouched by the tension you now felt. “Of course, brother,” she replied, her tone light and dreamlike, as though she sensed nothing of the undercurrent between you and Aemond.

You felt the weight of their eyes upon you—Helaena’s distant curiosity, Jaehaera’s wide-eyed innocence, and Aemond’s watchful, unreadable gaze. You rose slowly from your seat, smoothing the folds of your gown as you murmured a soft farewell to the princess and her children, acutely aware of how unsteady your voice sounded.

Aemond stood patiently, waiting as you gathered yourself. His tall figure loomed over you, but there was no sense of impatience in his posture. When you stepped out of the solar, he turned and led the way into the dimly lit corridor, his footsteps echoing against the stone walls in perfect rhythm with yours.

The silence between you grew heavier with each step, and the farther you ventured down the shadowed halls of the Red Keep, the more you became aware of where he was leading you—back toward his chambers.

Your palms began to sweat, and your heart pounded with a growing unease. Why had he sought you out? Why now, after so many days of avoidance?

The corridor felt impossibly long, each step building the tension. Aemond’s back remained straight, his silver hair brushing the fabric of his black tunic, his long strides forcing you to quicken your own pace just to keep up.

When you finally reached the familiar door to his chambers, he paused, turning to face you, his one violet eye locking onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. The silence stretched, thick and charged, as though the air between you crackled with words unspoken.

"You’ve been avoiding me, my lady," Aemond murmured, his piercing gaze sweeping over you as you walked into his chambers.

Your eyes widened just a fraction, masking your surprise with a nervous laugh. “Why on earth would you insinuate something like that?”

His voice, soft but steady, echoed from behind you as you stepped further into the dim warmth of his room. "Perhaps because every time I enter a room, you are always the first to leave."

Fidgeting with your fingers, you murmured, "I suspect you are just seeing things, my prince."

A slight smirk tugged at his lips as he replied, “Mayhaps it’s just my one eye.”

Your head snapped up in shock at his words, but before you could respond, you noticed the faint curve of amusement in his lips. For the first time since your engagement, you let out a genuine laugh, tilting your head. “Oh, so you can jest,” you teased, though you couldn’t help but wrinkle your nose in playful disapproval. “Though your delivery needs some work.”

Aemond’s smirk deepened, a flicker of something warmer in his gaze. “I shall endeavor to improve,” he replied with dry humor, his voice low.

For a moment, your eyes locked, the silence between you charged with a tension that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. But then he cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “I called you here for a reason,” he said, his tone shifting as he turned away, walking toward his desk.

Your curiosity piqued as you watched him retrieve something—a finely crafted box, larger than you expected. He carried it with the same ease as he handled his sword, and yet there was a certain weight to his movements. He approached you, his expression unreadable, and extended the box in an indifferent manner. "A wedding gift," he said simply.

Your heart fluttered as you took the box, your fingers trembling slightly. As you lifted the lid, your breath caught in your throat. Inside lay a necklace—silver, adorned with diamonds that glimmered like starlight, white pearls cascading from its base, and at the center, a magnificent sapphire, almost mirroring the sapphire you had gifted him. It was stunning, more than anything you had ever imagined.

“Wow,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, as if the beauty of the necklace had stolen the air from your lungs.

Aemond’s voice softened, a note of vulnerability threading through his usual composure. “Do you like it?”

You met his gaze, your eyes bright with genuine surprise and gratitude. “Yes, yes, of course,” you breathed, a shy smile tugging at your lips as your heart raced with something more than just relief.

You looked at him, pure joy lighting up your face, entirely unaware of the soft, almost tender look in Aemond's eye as he observed you. Nodding eagerly, you gestured to the necklace. "Will you put it on me?"

Aemond inclined his head in silence, taking the necklace from its box as he motioned for you to turn around. You did so, gathering your hair and lifting it to reveal your neck. The warmth of his presence grew closer, and when his fingers brushed against your skin to secure the clasp, you couldn’t help but wonder if the caress was deliberate or merely your imagination.

When his hands finally withdrew, you released the breath you had been holding. Turning to face him, you tilted your chin up slightly. "How does it look?"

For a moment, Aemond’s gaze lingered on you, his eye fixed on your face with an unreadable intensity before it drifted down to your neck. "Your neck looks... long."

Your brow furrowed, confusion knitting your features. "My neck looks long?"

Aemond coughed, a rare sign of discomfort, and you could swear you caught the faintest hint of pink on his pale cheeks. He quickly amended his words, mumbling, "I mean, it looks nice. The necklace brings out your eyes."

A sheepish smile tugged at your lips as you nodded, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. "Thank you, my prince."

For a brief moment, your eyes flickered to the eye patch that hid his injury, wondering if the sapphire you had gifted him lay beneath. The thought of it being there, close to him, filled you with an unspoken sense of connection. You felt content to simply stand there, the moment shared between you without the need for words. But Aemond, shifting slightly under your gaze, seemed less at ease.

“I am late for training,” he said, his tone distant as though eager to escape.

You narrowed your eyes playfully, tilting your head in mock suspicion. “I thought you only trained in the mornings?”

His posture straightened, fists clenching at his sides as he looked away, clearly caught in his lie. The silence that followed made him glance toward the window. “It’s... a beautiful day.”

You hummed softly in agreement, not pressing him any further. “Yes, it is.”

Aemond hesitated for a moment before his eye met yours again, the faintest trace of vulnerability in his voice. “Mayhaps you would be interested in a walk in the castle gardens?”

Your heart skipped, and it took everything within you to suppress the wide grin threatening to break free. You feigned contemplation for a moment before nodding with as much grace as you could muster. “I would love to, my prince.”

And though Aemond kept his face composed, you couldn’t help but notice the slight softening of his expression at your acceptance.

In Aemond's eyes, despite your apparent obliviousness to his growing feelings, it was not hard to fall in love with you. There was a quiet strength in the way you carried yourself, a delicate blend of grace and fire that intrigued him.

He had always been reserved, more comfortable in the company of books and the sound of steel clashing in the training yard than in the presence of others. But with you, there was something different, something that drew him in against his better judgment.

Your laugh, though soft, echoed in his mind long after you left the room. The way your eyes sparkled with genuine warmth when you spoke to him—even when you were nervous—was a stark contrast to the calculated interactions he was used to at court.

You were not scheming, not vying for his favor or power. You were simply... you. And perhaps that was what made it so easy for his walls to crumble, little by little, without even realizing it.

When you smiled up at him, asking him to place the necklace around your neck, his heart had skipped a beat. It was such a simple request, yet the intimacy of it made him feel more vulnerable than any duel or battle could. In those moments, he found himself wondering what it would be like to let his guard down, to let you see the man behind the stoic façade.

Even now, as he led you through the corridors of the Red Keep, heading toward the gardens, Aemond couldn’t help but steal glances at you. Your presence beside him felt... right. The idea of loving you was no longer something he fought against; instead, it was a slow, inevitable truth that settled in his chest.

In time, he hoped you would see it too.

Headcannon: reader only sees the sapphire in his eye on their wedding night

Headcannon: this is before the dance of dragons and viserys is still alive

Headcannon: aemond is 18 and reader is 17

Ages of the Baratheon daughters:

Cassandra - 25

Maris - 22

Ellyn - 19

Reader (fawn) - 17

Floris - 13

ALSO you cannot change my mind - after having four daughters (canon) Borros Baratheon is def a girl dad!

Hope you enjoyed 💜

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts XXII

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

As the family gather for a wedding, Valaena and Alicent come to blows.

Warning(s): Four Year Time Skip, Angst, Drama, Language, Mild Violence/Threats, Arguements, Brother/Sister Incest, Wedding, Celebration, Alcohol Consumption, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Fingering, Oral Sex, P in V.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 6929

A.N - Last Chapter!!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx

The door creaked open slightly, and Valaena stood in the doorway , her violet eyes soft but bright with curiosity.

Inside, Jaehaerys stood in front of a tall mirror, his hands fumbling with the intricate embroidery on his sleeves.

His usually composed face was a mask of nerves, and the maids hovering nearby exchanged quiet glances, unsure whether to step in or retreat.

Valaena stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “You look like you’re going to throw up,” she said, her voice laced with amusement.

Jaehaerys turned to face her, his expression half-wrought with panic, half-exasperated. “I’ve never been so nervous in my life. What if I stutter? What if I say the wrong thing?” His hands twitched as though they didn’t know what to do with themselves.

Valaena approached, her steps measured and deliberate. Her presence alone seemed to calm the room.

She placed a reassuring hand on his arm and smiled. “It’s natural to be nervous on your wedding day,” she said warmly.

He huffed a soft laugh. “What was your wedding to my uncle like?”

Valaena smile turned slightly mischievous. “Which one—the first or the second?”

Jaehaerys blinked, caught off guard. “You got married twice?”

“We did,” she confirmed with a playful tilt of her head. “The first was in the tradition of our house, though in a way that was very much our own. The second was in Qarth—a small affair, though no less meaningful.”

Jaehaerys seemed to relax, curiosity momentarily replacing his anxiety. “I never knew that” he said, then hesitated before adding, “I want to thank you—and Uncle Aemond, of course. If it weren’t for the two of you, and my mother and father, I wouldn’t be getting married today.”

“You are most welcome,” Valaena replied, her tone warm. Then, she tilted her head slightly. “Will your grandmother be in attendance?”

A shadow of sadness crossed Jaehaerys’ face. He shook his head. “I-I’m not sure, I don’t think she agrees with my choice of bride. Targaryen’s and our queer customs, she calls it.”

Valaena scoffed lightly. “Sometimes our blood calls to its own. It has always been this way.”

“She just doesn’t understand,” Jaehaerys murmured.

“No, she doesn’t,” Valaena agreed, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “But let’s not dwell on such things. Today is about happiness-”

“You’re right,” he said, straightening slightly as if to banish his lingering doubts.

“Good,” she said, her smile returning. “Now, while your mother tends to your bride, I brought you something.”

From the folds of her cloak, she produced a small, intricately carved box. She handed it to Jaehaerys, who opened it with careful hands.

His face lit up as he revealed a silver clasp shaped into two-headed dragons, their forms styled after Morghul and Shrykos, their heads entwined as if in eternal unity.

“Your bride has a matching one,” Valaena said, her voice soft.

Jaehaerys ran his fingers over the smooth silver and looked up at her. “Thank you,” he said, his voice filled with quiet reverence. “I shall treasure it always.”

Valaena took the clasp from him and stepped forward, pinning it to the front of his cloak with practiced ease.

She smoothed the fabric with a maternal touch, then stepped back to examine him. “Now, I think you’re ready,” she said with a smile of approval.

Jaehaerys took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. “Time to get married,” he said, his voice steadier now, though a flicker of nervous energy still remained.

“I’ll see you down there,” Valaena said, moving toward the door. But as her hand touched the handle, Jaehaerys called out to her.

“Wait!” he said, his brow furrowing. “Just how did you get the High Septon to agree to this?”

She paused, turning back with a sly smile. “Surely you know of the Doctrine of Exceptionalism, set forth by Old King Jaehaerys?”

“Of course,” he said with a nod, “but I heard the High Septon was resistant to my marriage to Jaehaera despite the doctrine.”

Valaena's smile widened, her eyes glinting with amusement. “It was a joint effort between your mother and myself,” she said. “Best you don’t know the ins and outs, but let’s just say your mother found her inner dragon.”

Jaehaerys chuckled, the sound easing some of the tension in the room. “I can imagine.”

Valaena inclined her head. “And now, you should focus on the task at hand. Your bride awaits.”

With that, she gave him one last encouraging smile and slipped out of the room, leaving Jaehaerys alone with his thoughts—and a heart full of hope.

Valaena moved briskly through the Red Keep, her gown whispering along the stone floors as she made her way to Alicent’s chambers.

When she entered, the atmosphere was subdued, the room aglow with the warm light of the fire.

Alicent sat in an armchair near the hearth, fiddling with the seven-pointed star pendant that hung around her neck, her expression distant.

“Are you seriously just going to sit in here,” Valaena asked, her tone sharp but not unkind, “while your grandchildren are getting married?”

Alicent took a deep breath, her fingers stilling on the necklace. “They are twins,” she said softly. “I don’t—”

“You don’t what?” Valaena interrupted, stepping closer. “Agree with it?”

Alicent drew a deep breath, steadying herself. “I can’t stop thinking of Helaena and Aegon, and how unhappy they’ve both been in their marriage.”

“Oh, you mean the marriage you forced them into?” Valaena’s voice was laced with venom. “Because you didn’t want Helaena marrying Jace? Let’s not pretend you’re some tragic figure here, Alicent.”

“That’s not—” Alicent began, her voice faltering.

“Not true?” Valaena snapped. “Of course it is. You’ve spent your life hiding behind your so-called faith and duty, but at the end of the day, you’re nothing more than a hypocrite.”

Alicent’s lips tightened, and her tone sharpened. “I did what I thought was right for my family. For the realm.”

“No,” Valaena shot back, her eyes blazing. “You did what was right for you. You enjoyed the power, didn’t you? Being the Queen, bending everyone to your will. You forced your own daughter into misery just to spite my mother.”

Alicent’s eyes narrowed, her grip on the pendant tightening. “That is not true. I have always done my duty”

“Your duty?” Valaena sneered, stepping closer, her voice rising. “Is that what you call it? Forcing Helaena into marriage with that drunken whore of son you raised”

Alicent’s hand trembled as she pointed a finger at Valaena. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? but you have no idea the burden of duty I have carried—”

“Burden of duty?” Valaena cut her off, her voice a furious roar. “Don’t make me laugh! Your burden was sitting on a throne you were never meant to have, manipulating everyone around you with your simpering piety. You call it duty, but it was always about control. Your father taught you well, didn’t he?”

Alicent’s face twisted with rage. “You have no right to speak of my father!”

“I have every right!” Valaena snarled, stepping so close their faces were inches apart. “He used you like a pawn, and instead of breaking free, you became just like him. A schemer. A manipulator. Only you cloak your cruelty in the guise of virtue, hiding behind that ridiculous seven-pointed star like it absolves you of everything.”

Alicent stood abruptly, her eyes flashing with anger. “You know nothing about what I’ve endured!” she hissed. “You weren’t there when your mother flaunted every rule, every expectation, while I was trapped, doing what was expected of me!”

Valaena scoffed, her expression sharp as the edge of a blade. “-You and my mother were once friends, and you grew to resent her because you did what was expected of you, while she trampled all over duty with her pretty foot.”

Alicent’s breath hitched, and her eyes narrowed as the words struck a deeply buried chord.

For a fleeting moment, her composure faltered, and her mind was dragged back to that fateful night on Driftmark.

The firelight had flickered in the hall, casting shadows over the scene of chaos.

Aemond sat near the hearth, his face a grim mask of pain as the Maester stitched the torn flesh where his left eye had once been.

The memory burned like a fresh wound, but it was nothing compared to the fury that had surged through her veins when Viserys had risen from his seat—not to defend his maimed son, but to refuse her demand for justice.

His focus on the insult against Rhaenyra’s children, and preserving his delusion of peace, requesting apologise and gestures of good will to one another as though Aemond’s suffering was a mere inconvenience.

The dagger had felt heavy in her hand as she charged toward Lucerys, her vision red with rage, her heart pounding with the need to balance the scales.

There was a debt to be paid. But Rhaenyra had risen to meet her, a shield between Alicent and her intended target, and their struggle had been seared into Alicent’s memory.

“It’s truly exhausting, isn’t it?” Rhaenyra’s voice had cut through the chaos, her words as sharp as the blade they wrestled over. “Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness?”

The phrase echoed in her mind now, like a cruel spectre from the past, and Alicent’s grip on her seven-pointed star necklace tightened. She blinked rapidly, her lips pressed into a thin line, as she forced herself back to the present.

“Careful, Valaena,” Alicent said, her voice trembling with suppressed anger. “You speak of things you couldn’t possibly understand.”

Valaena’s lips curled into a smirk, her confidence unwavering. “Oh, I understand plenty,” she said

Alicent’s face flushed. “You have no idea what it’s like to sacrifice everything for the sake of others. To bear the weight of a crown you never asked for.”

Valaena leaned in, her voice low and cutting. “I know exactly what that’s like. But unlike you, I won’t let bitterness consume me, the point is that Jaehaerys and Jaehaera chose each other”

“They’re twins!” Alicent spat, her voice rising. “It’s unnatural!”

Valaena’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Unnatural? What’s unnatural is you sitting here, wallowing in self-pity, instead of being there for your grandchildren. You claim to care about them, yet all you’ve done is judge them for embracing the customs of their house. Customs you benefited from when it suited you.”

Alicent drew herself up, her tone icy. “You think you know everything, don’t you? Your arrogance is astounding.”

“And your self-righteousness is exhausting,” Valaena shot back. “You sit here pretending to be above it all, when all you’ve done is meddle and destroy. Admit it, Alicent—you’re jealous.”

Alicent’s eyes widened, her face paling slightly. “Jealous?” she whispered, her voice faltering.

“Yes,” Valaena pressed, her voice softer now but no less pointed. “Jealous of the freedom they have. The freedom you were never allowed”

For a moment, silence stretched between them, the fire crackling in the hearth the only sound. Alicent’s shoulders slumped slightly, and she looked away, her voice barely above a whisper. “Perhaps I am.”

Valaena exhaled sharply, some of the tension leaving her frame. “Please don’t punish them for your regrets,” she said firmly. “Be there for them. Show them you care, even if you don’t understand.”

Alicent sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I don’t know if I can.”

Valaena’s expression hardened again. “As future queen, I order you to attend that wedding. Because if you don’t, I swear to every single one of the Seven that I will make your life a living hell.”

Alicent blinked, then a faint smile tugged at her lips. “You truly are blood of the dragon. I can see why Aemond is so drawn to you.”

Valaena raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard. “Not the response I was expecting.”

Alicent shrugged slightly. “Nothing else came to mind.”

“So,” Valaena said, folding her arms, “are you coming to the wedding?”

Alicent exhaled, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“Not exactly,” Valaena said with a sly grin.

“Then I suppose I’ll be there,” Alicent said, her voice soft but sincere.

“Good,” Valaena said firmly, turning to leave.

As she reached the door, Alicent called out to her. “Valaena.”

She turned back, her expression questioning.

“Do you think my grandchildren will be happy?” Alicent asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

Valaena smiled gently. “Like I said, they chose each other.”

Alicent nodded slowly, a faint smile crossing her lips. “I’m glad you chose Aemond.”

“So am I,” Valaena said with a soft smile, before stepping out and closing the door behind her.

The air in Aemond and Valaena’s chambers was bustling with activity as she stepped inside.

Aemond stood at the centre of the chaos, his sharp voice ringing out as he corralled their four-year-old twins, Vhalarr and Vaelarra.

“Behave,” he said firmly, his eye narrowing in warning. “And absolutely no mischief today, do you understand?”

Vhalarr looked suitably chastised, while Vaelarra giggled, her small hands clutching the hem of her father’s tunic as if testing his patience.

On the bed, Aemon sat quietly, fiddling with the clasp of his cloak, his small brows furrowed in concentration.

Nearby, Elaena sat cross-legged, her nimble fingers weaving Daenys’ dark hair into an intricate braid.

Rhaegar stood at the edge of the room, arms folded behind his back in his usual composed manner, watching Elaena braid with a small smile tugging at his lips.

Valaena clapped her hands sharply, drawing everyone's attention. “Right, are we ready?”

Aemond turned to her, his stern expression softening instantly as his gaze swept over her. “Ao jurnegon gevie ābrazȳrys,” he murmured, his tone filled with admiration. (You look beautiful, wife.)

Valaena smiled, smoothing down her dress and stepping closer to him. “Hae gaomagon ao ñuha gēlenka zaldrīzes,” she replied, her voice equally tender. (As do you, my silver dragon.)

Aemond leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips, a moment of calm amidst the bustling energy of their chambers.

A sharp knock interrupted them, and the door creaked open to reveal Lirri and Arro.

“Lirri, you look beautiful,” Valaena said warmly, her tone genuinely appreciative.

Lirri blushed deeper, glancing shyly at the ground. “Thank you, my lady.”

Aemond cleared his throat, his expression returning to its usual focus. “Right, we definitely need to get going.”

Valaena nodded, stepping over to Vhalarr and taking his small hand in hers. “Come, little one. And remember, behave.”

“Yes, Muña,” Vhalarr replied sweetly, though his mischievous twinkle persisted (Mother).

Aemond took Vaelarra’s hand, who offered him a mischievous smile but walked obediently beside him as they prepared to leave.

The family filed out of the chambers in a small procession, their footsteps echoing through the stone halls of the Red Keep.

The air was thick with anticipation and excitement as they approached the carriages waiting in the courtyard.

Once everyone was seated inside the carriage, the door opened unexpectedly and Alicent stepped in, her expression calm and composed, though her light blue dress betrayed a deliberate effort for the occasion.

“Room for one more?” Alicent asked, her smile warm.

Aemond blinked, clearly surprised, but quickly recovered. “Of course,” he said, gesturing to the empty spot beside him.

Alicent stepped in gracefully, settling herself next to her son.

As soon as she sat down, Vhalarr clambered onto her lap, his energy undiminished.

“Muñāzma!” he exclaimed happily, he launched into an eager stream of chatter, sharing his childlike excitement about the day ahead (Grandmother).

Alicent’s face softened as she listened attentively, her hand gently smoothing his dark hair.

Soon the carriage began to move, the younger children still talking excitedly throughout the journey to the Grand Sept.

The wedding of Jaehaerys and Jaehaera was a spectacle of beauty and love, filled with the grandeur and sacred traditions of House Targaryen and the Faith of the Seven.

The Great Sept was adorned with silken banners of red and black, each fluttering softly in the warm breeze that carried the scent of roses and dragon fire.

The aisle was strewn with petals, a blend of crimson and gold, leading to the altar where the High Septon awaited.

Jaehaerys stood tall, dressed in resplendent black and red, his cloak fastened with the two-headed dragon clasp gifted by Valaena.

When he glanced toward the crowd, his eyes widened in surprise. Sitting beside Aemond was Alicent.

She caught his gaze and offered a warm, smile, raising her hand in a wave. Jaehaerys smiled back, his heart swelling at her support.

Jaehaera was a vision in silver and pale violet, her gown embroidered with flowers, her hair adorned with delicate silver chains and pearls that shimmered in the light.

The ceremony commenced with solemn reverence. The High Septon’s voice rang clear as he bound their hands with a ribbon of gold and silver, weaving it in a slow, deliberate motion.

“We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever,” the High Septon proclaimed, his voice echoing in the stillness of the Sept.

The crowd, a mix of lords, ladies, and family, watched with rapt attention as the High Septon declared, “Let it be known that Jaehaerys of House Targaryen and Jaehaera of House Targaryen are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.”

Jaehaerys and Jaehaera’s voices joined in harmony as they recited, “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger.” The conviction in their tone resonated deeply, a testament to their love and dedication.

Jaehaerys then spoke, his voice steady and warm, “I am hers, and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

Jaehaera followed, her voice soft but unwavering, “I am his, and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

Finally, Jaehaerys declared, his violet eyes fixed on Jaehaera’s, “With this kiss, I pledge my love.” He leaned in, their foreheads brushing briefly before their lips met in a kiss filled with promise and devotion.

The gathered crowd erupted into cheers and applause, the sound reverberating through the Sept like the roar of dragons. The moment was one of pure joy, and even the gods seemed to smile down upon the union.

As they parted, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera beamed, their faces alight with happiness.

Hand in hand, they turned to face their family and friends. Valaena smiled warmly, her fingers intertwined with Aemond’s, while Aegon gave a hearty cheer from his seat beside Helaena, who dabbed at her tears with a silken kerchief.

As the bells of the Great Sept tolled in celebration, the newlyweds walked down the petal-strewn aisle, ready to face the future together.

The reception in the throne room was a glittering affair, filled with the warmth and grandeur befitting the union of Jaehaerys and Jaehaera.

The hall was resplendent with banners of black and red, shimmering in the golden candlelight, as laughter and music echoed against the high ceilings.

Lords and ladies mingled, their cups brimming with wine, the scent of roasted meats and honeyed treats wafting through the air.

Queen Rhaenyra stood proudly at the head of the room, her goblet raised high, her voice clear and commanding as she toasted the newlyweds. “To Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, my beloved niece and nephew. May your marriage be filled with love, strength, and the wisdom to overcome all that lies ahead. Let us all drink to their happiness and prosperity!”

The gathered lords and ladies lifted their cups in unison, echoing her words, “To Jaehaerys and Jaehaera!” The room erupted in a chorus of cheers and applause as the couple exchanged glowing smiles.

Rhaenyra then clapped her hands, summoning the musicians to play. The gentle strains of a harp began, followed by the melodic notes of a lute, filling the room with a soft, romantic tune.

Jaehaerys extended his hand to Jaehaera, who accepted with a shy yet radiant smile, and the newlyweds took to the centre of the throne room for their first dance.

Their movements were graceful and intimate, as though no one else existed in the room. The world fell away as they danced, their eyes locked, and their faces alight with love. The crowd watched, mesmerized, until the music shifted, and others joined in.

Rhaenyra and Daemon swept onto the floor; their bond palpable as they danced closely together.

Aemond, standing by the edge of the crowd, finished his cup of wine and extended his hand to Valaena. “Care for a dance, my love?”

Valaena looked up at him with a teasing smile. “You hate to dance.”

Aemond smirked, a glimmer of warmth in his eye. “I don’t mind dancing with you, ābrazȳrys” (Wife).

Valaena laughed softly, her cheeks tinged pink as she took his hand. Together, they stepped onto the floor, moving with surprising ease to the music.

Aemond rested his forehead against hers, his voice a low murmur, “Avy jorrāelan” (I love you).

Valaena cupped his face, her thumb brushing his scarred cheek, and kissed him softly. “Se avy jorrāelan, valzȳrys” (And I love you husband).

As they swayed gently to the music, Valaena placed her head against Aemond’s chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothing her.

Aemond, his hand protectively on her waist, whispered, “How did you convince my mother to attend the wedding?”

Valaena tilted her head, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “What makes you think it was anything to do with me?”

“Because I know you,” replied Aemond with a knowing look.

Valaena huffed a quiet laugh. “I might have had a few words with her.”

Aemond chuckled. “Well, whatever you said, it worked. I’m sure Jaehaerys and Jaehaera are thankful for it.”

Valaena’s gaze softened. “Mayhaps when given a choice, love has a chance to blossom more freely.”

Aemond nodded his head in agreement. “A notion our son and daughter seem to have taken to heart.”

Valaena turned and saw Rhaegar and Elaena dancing together. Their hands were clasped tightly, their eyes locked as though they were the only two people in the room.

Valaena smiled. “Ahhh young love.”

Aemond’s expression turned more serious. “I think I need to exchange a few words with our children. I do not wish to be a grandsire just yet.”

Valaena laughed. “Are you sure? I think you’d make a wonderful grandsire.”

Aemond chuckled, leaning closer. “Perhaps. But while my seed can still take root inside you, I think I’d like to wait a little longer before I’m granted the title.”

Valaena smirked. “What makes you think I want more children? We already have six. We’ve performed our duty, generously so.”

Aemond’s eye gleamed with amusement. “Don’t play coy with me, ñuha dōna. I know you’re with child again” (My sweet)

Valaena’s eyes widened slightly. “H-how?”

“Well, aside from the obvious lack of monthly bleeding, you have that mother’s glow about you,” Aemond said, his tone teasing but affectionate. “And you’ve been quite sensitive during our love-making”

Valaena’s lips curved into a soft smile. “I believe I am almost three moons gone.”

Aemond reached down, his palm resting gently against her stomach. “Another blessing to be cherished.”

“I just hope it’s not twins again,” Valaena muttered.

Aemond laughed heartily. “I agree. The twins we already have are quite the handful.”

As if on cue, a commotion drew their attention to Vhalarr and Vaelarra. The twins were giggling mischievously as they dropped a spider into a noble lady’s hair, causing her to scream in alarm.

Valaena sighed, exasperated. “You get Vaelarra, and I’ll get Vhalarr.”

Aemond smirked. “As you wish, ābrazȳrys.” (wife).

He strode off after his daughter, who squealed and darted away. Vhalarr, feigning innocence, waited until his mother approached before bolting in the opposite direction.

Valaena shook her head with a laugh, the chaos a perfect reminder of the love and life they had built together.

Later that night, the celebrations had drawn to a close, and the Red Keep was cloaked in the stillness of night.

The children were finally asleep, their youthful laughter and antics replaced by peaceful silence.

Valaena sat brushing her hair in front of the mirror when Aemond entered the room, his expression alight with mischief.

“I have a surprise for you,” he announced, stepping closer.

Valaena raised a brow. “At this hour?”

“Trust me” He extended his hand, and with a smile of curiosity, she took it.

Before long, Silverwing and Vhagar soared through the dark skies, their wings cutting through clouds that shimmered faintly in the moonlight.

 The world below was silent, a tapestry of shadowed forests and rivers. Valaena followed Aemond’s lead, her excitement growing as they approached the familiar silhouette of their cabin by the sea.

As they landed, Vhagar and Silverwing settled nearby, their great forms creating gentle ripples in the sand. Aemond dismounted and helped Valaena down before guiding her toward the cabin.

“Aemond, what have you done?” she asked, laughter in her voice.

He grinned, covering her eyes with his hand. “No peeking.”

She allowed herself to be led, the cool night air brushing against her skin. The door creaked open, and Aemond guided her inside.

“Ready?” he murmured by her ear.

At her nod, he removed his hand.

Valaena gasped softly, her heart swelling at the sight. The cabin, which had fallen into disrepair over the years, now looked as it had in their happiest memories.

The wooden beams gleamed with fresh polish, the furniture was repaired and arranged with care, and thick furs and blankets adorned the bed and chairs. A warm, lived-in feeling filled the space.

“I’ve had men working on this for a good few months,” Aemond said, watching her reaction closely. “I wanted it ready for our anniversary. What do you think?”

She turned to him, her eyes shining. “It’s wonderful, Aemond. Truly.”

His lips curved into a satisfied smile. “While I get the fire going, why don’t you take off your riding leathers and get into bed? Relax for a bit.”

Valaena laughed softly. “I like the sound of that.”

Aemond pressed a kiss to her forehead before moving to the hearth. He crouched and began arranging kindling, but his task was repeatedly interrupted by his gaze wandering to Valaena.

She was unfastening her riding leathers, her movements unhurried. A soppy look crept onto Aemond’s face as he watched her, entirely enraptured.

By the time Valaena slid under the thick fur covers, she noticed Aemond still wrestling with the fire, his focus split. “Are you going to light that fire, or shall I?”

He chuckled and finally got the flames to catch. The fire crackled to life, bathing the cabin in a warm, golden glow.

Satisfied, he stood and began removing his sword and belt before pulling off his riding leathers.

Soon, he stood bare before the fire, his silver hair catching the flickering light.

As he moved to climb into bed, Valaena smirked. “Ah, you’re forgetting something.”

Aemond scoffed, shaking his head in amusement. Reaching up, he removed his eyepatch and set it on the bedside table. “Is that better, my love?”

“Much,” she said softly, her voice full of affection.

Aemond slid into bed, pulling Valaena close, her head against his chest, her hand splayed over his heart.

His fingers gently combed through her dark hair, and she sighed contentedly, the rhythm of his heartbeat soothing her.

“I had almost forgotten how peaceful it is here,” she murmured.

“I could never forget,” Aemond replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “This place holds a lot of memories.”

“Do you remember,” she began, her voice soft and distant, “how desperate we were when we conducted our own Valyrian wedding ceremony in front of that fireplace?”

Aemond’s hand, which had been idly stroking her silver hair, paused. His violet eye softened as he looked down at her. “I remember it vividly,” he said. “After Aegon had been crowned king, I thought I’d lost you forever.”

“I felt the same,” she replied, her voice tinged with lingering sorrow. “I thought we would be doomed to face one another in the skies, upon dragon back”

Aemond’s arms tightened around her instinctively, pulling her closer as if to shield her from even the memory of such a possibility. His voice was steady but filled with emotion. “I would have fallen on my own sword before allowing that to happen”

A tear slipped down Valaena’s cheek as she whispered, “Blessed we are then, that things didn’t end with fire and blood, and the dragons dancing.”

His grip on her became almost protective, his lips brushing her forehead. “All it took,” he said, his tone carrying a mix of dry humour and sincerity, “was us faking our deaths.”

Valaena huffed a small laugh, the sound bittersweet. “It was drastic, but it worked in the end.”

Aemond’s smirk returned, faint but genuine. “It sure did. The realm is at peace and you, my darling, are carrying our seventh child, and I’ve never been happier.”

Valaena let out a soft groan, burying her face in his chest. “Gods, are we crazy for having another?” she asked, though her voice was more amused than distressed.

“I don’t know,” Aemond replied, tilting his head thoughtfully. “I’ve always fancied us as the new Jaehaerys and Alysanne.”

Valaena pulled back slightly, her brows shooting up in mock horror. “Tell me you’re joking. They had thirteen children!”

Aemond’s lips curved into a mischievous smirk. “But my love,” he said, his voice dropping into a low, teasing whisper, “you know how much I enjoy knowing that my seed has taken root inside you.”

Valaena laughed, a genuine, melodic sound. “Oh yes,” she said dryly, “I’m well aware of how much you enjoy it.”

Aemond leaned down, nuzzling her neck with affection. His voice was a tender murmur against her skin. “Seeing your belly swell, knowing that a piece of me is growing inside you—it’s the greatest joy I’ve ever known.”

Her laughter faded, replaced by a deep, unspoken love in her eyes as she gazed up at him. He captured her lips in a kiss, one that was both passionate and tender, pouring every ounce of his devotion into it.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Aemond whispered, his voice rough with need. “I want you, Valaena. I need you.” His hands moved to her hips, guiding her closer to him, their bodies pressed together in a way that made his desire almost unbearable.

Valaena’s breath hitched as she felt the heat of his arousal against her, her own body responding to his touch. She reached up, threading her fingers through his hair as she kissed him back with equal fervour, her heart racing with the anticipation of what was to come.

“Then take me, Aemond,” she whispered against his lips, her voice trembling with a mixture of love and desire.

Aemond gently covered her body with his as he sucked and licked at the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Valaena moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

Ooo A-Aemond” exclaimed Valaena as he moved down her body, nibbling her at her skin as he went.

He paused at her breasts, his tongue taking turns to swirl around her rosy nipples.

“I can’t wait for these to fill with milk again-” groaned Aemond as he pressed his face into the soft pillowy mounds.

“Me either” replied Valaena softly, she knew Aemond enjoyed tasting her mother’s milk, but she enjoyed the closeness and also the relief he would give her, as nursing often left her full and sore.

“So beautiful” whispered Aemond as he lowered himself and pressed a series of gentle kisses to her stomach.

“T-t-tickles” laughed Valaena as the ends of Aemond’s long silver hair swept across her skin.

“Hmmm”

“Aemond” gasped Valaena as she felt him move lower.

“Such a pretty cunny " breathed Aemond spitting on her before he ran the flat of his tongue up Valaena’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Valaena her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it my sweet. Let me hear you”. 

“YES! It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Valaena.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Valaena, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Valaena. "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh, fuck" whimpered Valaena; her chest heaving.

 Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me” moaned Aemond.

Gods his cock was so hard, it was almost painful.

Finally, he felt Valaena’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Her back arched taut as a bow, and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at his wife whilst she came.

Soon her tense body went slack and pliant, her chest heaving with every breath.

Aemond slowly moved up Valaena’s body, pressing kisses to her soft body as he went, until he reached his desired destination.

“Kostilus issa jorrāelagon” whispered Valaena as she writhed against him (Please my love).

Aemond couldn't wait any longer. He surged forward and sheathed his hard cock into Valaena’s soaked cunt causing her to shriek in surprise.

“That’s it, take all of me” moans Aemond as he begins to move.

Valaena can’t think of anything but the deep penetrating thrusts that greet her, causing her to wail and moan, causing tears form in her eyes, before running down her cheeks.

Aemond wanted to fuck her hard, but he knows he can’t, he doesn’t want to harm the babe.

But she’s testing his restraint as he feels her clenching around him.

“YES! YES! AEMOND! I CAN TAKE IT. HARDER. PLEASE” screams Valaena.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond.

Aemond lifts Valaena’s legs onto his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock a little harder into her soaking wet cunny.

“Aemond! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Valaena.

“That’s it baby-come for me” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock.

His wife always looked amazing when she came. Her head thrown back in pleasure, her eyes alive with lust, and her pale skin shining with sweat.

Aemond could feel the tension in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to come. Not yet.

“I love you-I fucking love you” groaned Aemond as he moved Valaena’s legs off his shoulders and manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his hands kneading the soft flesh.

“P-Please Aemond” begged Valaena, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the soft fur blankets.

Aemond stuck his finger in his mouth before he ran it over her puckered hole.

“Is this alight?” breathed Aemond.

“Y-Yes. Put it inside me. I can take it” whimpered Valaena.

“Tell me-Tell me if it’s too much” replied Aemond as he slowly pressed his finger inside her.

“Ooh Aemond, yes. Please. More” babbled Valaena as he moved his finger in and out before adding a second.

“Your doing so well-my darling” moaned Aemond as he moved his fingers inside his wife, his other hand taking his cock and sheathing himself inside her once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

Valaena arched her back and screamed as Aemond thrust into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed through the air.

“Fuck-that’s it” moaned Aemond, his fingers still curling inside her.

“P-Please. Valzȳrys” whimpered Valaena (Husband).

Aemond removed his fingers and grasped hold of her hips, thrusting a little faster then he was before, his stomach muscles tensing.

He then took hold of her hair, twisting his fingers in the messy braid before he slowly pulled her backwards, her back colliding with his sweaty chest.

Aemond held Valaena tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

“Give it to me ñuha zaldrīzes” pleaded Valaena her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder (My dragon).

“Give me another-come for me again” whispered Aemond as he slid his hand over her stomach and used his long fingers to stroke her pearl.

“Oh-yes-oh” moaned Valaena as her peak suddenly erupted, her hands tangling in Aemond’s hair as she pulled him in for a messy kiss.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside her.

“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from her wet heat and laid on the blankets.

“-Aemond” exclaimed Valaena breathlessly.

“Ride me baby” replied Aemond as he manoeuvred Valaena on top of him.

His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.

“Oh” gasped Valaena as she rolled her hips against Aemond’s.

“That’s it ñuha nūmio, take it. Take all of me” (My pearl).

Aemond placed his hands on her hips and marvelled at his wife as she rode him.

Valaena dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Valaena as he moved his hands to her breasts, rolling her rosy nipples between his long fingers.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me again” exclaimed Aemond.

Valaena’s thighs began to burn, as she felt another climax approach.

“AEMOND” screamed Valaena.

“I’m going to fill you with my seed-”

“Y-yessss Aemond, I want it-I want you-” babbled Valaena as he moved her back onto the bed his cock never leaving her warmth as he moved inside her, chasing his own end.

“God. I love you- I love you-” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed.

Aemond jolted awake, his hand instinctively reaching for the space beside him, only to find it empty.

Blinking groggily, he scanned the dimly lit cabin. The fire had died down to embers, and the bed was colder than it should have been.

“Valaena?” he called softly, his voice thick with sleep.

No answer.

He glanced toward the door and noticed it was slightly ajar, moonlight spilling through the gap.

Quickly, he swung his legs out of bed and tugged on his breeches, his concern growing with each passing second.

He stepped outside into the cool night air, the soft sand of the beach shifting beneath his feet.

The sight of her standing near the shoreline brought a wave of relief. Valaena was wrapped in a fur blanket, her dark hair glinting in the moonlight.

Both Silverwing and Vhagar hovered nearby, their massive forms looming protectively, their eyes glowing faintly in the dark.

Aemond made his way to her, the sound of the waves lapping against the shore blending with the gentle rustle of the wind.

He slipped his arms around her from behind, pulling her against his chest. His chin came to rest on her shoulder, his warmth enveloping her.

“What are you doing out here at this time of night?” he murmured, his voice a mix of concern and tenderness.

Valaena leaned into his embrace, sighing softly. “I just felt a little nauseous,” she admitted. “I thought some fresh air might help.”

Aemond’s hand slid gently to her stomach, resting there with a protective warmth. “Is it the babe?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

“Yes,” she replied, her tone laced with a faint weariness. “But I’m sure I’ll be fine soon.”

Aemond hummed in response, closing his eye and allowing the sound of the waves to wash over them.

He felt the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, her body relaxing slightly against his as the peaceful moment stretched between them.

After a few minutes, Valaena turned in his arms, her fur blanket still draped around her shoulders.

Her violet eyes searched his face, shimmering in the moonlight. “Will you love me, Aemond, until the day I die?” she asked softly, her voice almost a whisper.

Aemond’s expression softened, his gaze unwavering as he cupped her face. “No,” he said, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “Much longer than that, Valaena. Much longer than that.”

Her lips curved into a soft smile, tears glinting in her eyes as he leaned in, brushing her lips with his own.

The kiss was tender, timeless, and full of unspoken promises, as if it held the answer to every question the world might throw at them.

When they parted, Aemond pressed his forehead to hers, their breaths mingling in the cool night air.

Together, they turned to gaze out at the sea, their dragons at their side and the horizon stretching infinitely before them.

Whatever trials had come before, they had faced them together, and whatever lay ahead, they would face it the same way.

For in that moment, there was no animosity, no politics, no crown.

Just a man and a woman, their love as eternal as the stars that watched over them.

The End.

[kairiscorner]

okay I don’t know if you know that one video of kim kardashian taking off her dress and asked pete davidson ‘babe, do you want to shower with me really quick?’ and then he just dropped his phone before following her like a little boy NOW imagine THAT with miguel🤭🤭

HELLO, ok so i only found out about it when you brought it to my attention, and LMAO...... mans is so down bad for her (like me for miggy <333) I REALLY LOVE THIS IDEA AAAAAAA I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS <3

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

babe, do you wanna shower with me real quick? — miguel o'hara x reader

summary: miguel has been focusing too much on work that you think he deserves to focus on something else, something much more worthwhile–those strings on the back of your dress, you believe, are better for him to focus on. word count: 557

you looked up at miguel who was tirelessly working on hunting down the location and coordinates of several anomalies and assigning units to track and take them down, but you wanted miguel to get off work now and let him be pampered by you. of course, he could never say no to his sweet little partner, his sweet little partner who was just excellent at tempting and swooning him every chance you got.

"miggyyyyy..." you called out for him from below as you slinked around his office, with him momentarily pausing his tapping and scrolling on the screens at the sound of your bewitching voice ringing throughout his ears. he tried his hardest to keep his concentration intact, but when it came to you... all focus would be put on you, and you alone.

"what is it, nena?" he asked you in a composed voice, one that tried not to sound too curious at your sudden arrival. you smiled, you knew he couldn't say no to your offer. you stepped closer towards miguel's platform as it slowly descended; he hadn't brought his platform down for anybody all day, not until you came and gave him a reason to with your arrival.

you waited until he turned around slightly to face you, and when he did, you began to toy with the strings on the back of your dress as you looked up at miguel. his mahogany brown eyes were focused now on your own gleaming ones as you smiled mischievously. "wanna... take a little break, mig?" you asked him in a sultry voice, which made miguel pause again for a little bit. you know he could never say no to you when you used that voice on him, you really were his little temptress.

miguel took in a small breath and resumed his work. "querida, i'm awfully busy right now." he said in such a nonchalant voice, but there was no fooling you–he just needed a small... push to say yes. you chuckled lightly at his excuse. "well then... guess you don't wanna shower with me, then." you teased as you pretended to be disappointed and looked down at the ground.

and at that moment, when miguel heard the words, 'shower with me,' he immediately tore his eyes away from the screens and hopped off the platform–his eyes wide and his lips apart slightly at your offer. he walked over to you in a slight hurry as he muttered, "ah, nevermind, then, someone else can take care of that. now, shall we?" he offered you as he placed his right hand on your shoulder, and his left index finger curled as he lightly ran it across your bare back.

you giggled at miguel folding for you all of a sudden and put your hand on his as you turned your head around to meet his gaze. "of course, miggy." you cooed to him as you pulled yourself away from his touch and teased him at the sight of you toying with the strings behind your dress that were the only things holding it up. forget the anomalies' coordinates, all miguel can focus on right now are those flimsy strings on your dress that he'd rather want to tear off of you.

such a tease, you are, and yet every time... he folds for you. every. damn. time.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @jrrantss @fictarian @yuridopted0 @fiannee @luvstarrstruck

[reiimicxii]

All Subtext I Could Find for Hamilton and Laurens' Relationship in Hamilton: The Musical

Since you guys asked for it, here it is!!

By the way, I've only gotten these details via being hyperfocused/staring at Laurens and Hamilton mostly throughout the musical's Act 1. Also overanalyzing their actions.

Again, Lin could've made this relationship more explicit, but he chose not to. They could've had a song, a SINGULAR SONG, but nothing? Just some light subtext that could be interpreted as platonic? Okay. I'll play your game.

If the ship was better intergrated in the story, maybe if there was a song explaining their relationship, or, literally anything Laurens-centric, I'd gurantee Laurens wouldn't be as UwU turtle boy twinkified by the fandom, honestly.

Because there's barely any OFFICIAL lams content in the musical to nimble on, I shall provide it myself by overanalyzing content. That is what I (try to) do best, after all. And this ship has been taking over my brain.

Also if there was any subtext that I missed, do let me know! I shall reblog if there's any more.

Alexander Hamilton

- When the cast are giving Hamilton his stuff, and Laurens gives his bag, a mild gay stare is at large.

(Detail!: Eliza gives him his coat, Angelica gives him his book, Laurens gives him his bag. Very specific character choices, I've gotta say)

(Side note: I've seen someone say Laurens mouths "Me? I loved him", but I don't exactly know if that's true or not, since he's in the dark)

My Shot

- (ESPECIALLY NOTICEABLE IN THE PRO-SHOT) Laurens checks him out a bit as Hamilton sings "These New York City streets get colder, I shoulder (...)"

- When Laurens sings his verse "You, and I, do or die (...)" he touches Hamilton's shoulder and gay-ass staring ensues.

- "Laurens I like you a lot"

(Laurens giggles a bit and acts embarrassed at that lol)

- Laurens says "Let's get this guy infront of a crowd" SO INTIMATELY like... compared to the studio album.... 🏳️‍🌈 (?)

- Just before Laurens shouts "Everybody sing!" He and Hamilton had a little shoulder-to-shoulder moment

Story of Tonight

- The gays do gays. That's all I have to say. You all know about the amount of gay stares and shoulder touches in this song.

- Also how they walk away together??

Right Hand Man

- During the final "Here comes the general!" Laurens and Hamilton do the "handshake thing", only noticed it just now.

Helpless

- After Hamilton tells Eliza "Swear to God you'll never feel so (...)" He and Laurens fucking come in CLOSE and Laurens congratulates him. And then gazes at him from afar before clapping then leaving. Jealous much?

- God, lemme just say, when Laurens and Angelica come down the aisle during the wedding they look so miserable...

Satisfied

- Laurens is like "Alright, alright, stop kissing infront of me mfs!!!"

- During the rewind part, Angelica, Laurens, and Eliza momentarily all stay in the light AT THE SAME TIME, the light Angelica was standing in.

(Side note: I am of the opinion that John Laurens should've sang Satisfied, yet I know that Satisfied was sort-of meant to be a female solo)

(2nd side note: Laurens could've gotten batshit drunk because his lover is getting married)

Story of Tonight (Reprise)

- When Laurens sings "But I've seen wonders great and small" he points at Hamilton. Didn't know Alex had such a small dick.

- Laurens clinging onto Hamilton and staring mindlessly at that man during the entire beginning portion of the song before Burr came in

- Also when they sing "Something you will never see again" Laurens gives Hamilton a sorta "I know I'm gonna die later lol" glance.

Stay Alive

- When Laurens sings "And everyday's a test of our camraderie and bravery" they do the "handshake thing" (which i think is a metaphor for queerness, or something like that)

- The transition from Stay Alive to Ten Duel Commandments ("Laurens, do not throw away your shot"), do I even need to say anything? ALSO THEY WERE IN A PINK LIGHT. (While yes, it is light, it classifies as pink)

CORRECTION: it was a purple pink-ish light, my bad

Ten Duel Commandments

- Of course, the bitches are gay af.

- Burr and Lee have a normal handshake during the seconds part, but Laurens and Hamilton do the "handshake thing" instead

Meet Me Inside

- During the beginning, the two share a hug and gazing. Also, "I'm satisfied!" being said by Laurens.

Laurens' Interlude / Tomorrow There'll Be More of Us

- Dead gay staring/pining ensues. Also, the fact that in the final version, Eliza doesn't even specify the letter came from South Carolina, yet Hamilton immediately assumes it's from Laurens...

Thank you for hearing my rambling, I have joined the fandom late, yes.

[divinehedons]

a place of worship.

pairing: mandal'or!din djarin x f!reader

word count: ~2.7k words

summary: despite the multiple times from which you had made love with the mandal'or, there is always something quite different. like the taste of poison. from dust to divinity, measure for measure.

warnings: this is an explicit, dark fic. minors, DO NOT INTERACT. this is a play on bacchanalia (or at least divinely-induced mania) so expect a complete bastardization of both canon and religious-adjacent imagery. din djarin is possibly (definitely) not a good guy. dubious consent, explicit p-in-v sex, oral (f!receiving), allusions to non-consensual p-in-v, breeding kink

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS MUCH APPRECIATED! Please let me know what you think or if I missed anything!

You still remember the day you first met the keeper of Mandalore. You remember the masked warriors that took you from the comforts of your small home.You remember the rough hands of the armourer who pressed her gloved hands against your lower stomach, as if reading the very pattern of your skin. She takes your pulse, as if incensed by the strong rhythm of your very veins. Her blood is strong. She shall sire the heirs of the Mandal’or.

And that’s how you end up in his bedchambers, scrubbed clean of dirt and grime so much so that you felt your identity rinsed away. So much so that it allowed you to exist within and without. To believe, momentarily, that the consummation of what you didn’t know to be your marriage occurred to someone else, a different version of you.

He was a gentle lover, even back then. When all is said and done, he provided you with a small meal, the gentle touches cleaning you again of spend. He asked you your name. You said it in a whisper, He showed you his scars when you couldn’t stop looking. And, in that warm silence from which all memories exist, you showed your own.

–

You supposed it all changed when he started leaving for battle more often. The weeks of warfare would return him to you: slightly, but unmistakably changed. Sometimes you would hear of him lumbering into his hallowed halls, bearing the heavy weight of his beloved darksaber. You would hear his steps before you actually saw him, pulling you closer with a drunken chuckle.

“How about a kiss for your warrior riduur?” Sometimes you think he truly growls before he takes your lips between his teeth. 

Sometimes you fear he would one day bite your skin clean off. You try to tell him once that it hurt. He responded by truly making your lip bleed, tongue running across the taste of iron and moaning. Even when you squeal, writhe in the pain, it’s almost as if he was looking for a spot that made you cry the most. Then he kisses you again, comforts you, calls you the most beautiful things. Cyari’ka. Light of my life, my sin, my soul.

You have not carried an heir, even if it was your purpose. You were surprised by the kindness when he asked you if you wanted a child in those early days of your marriage. You suppose you should have cowered in fear. And yet, perhaps his kindness has convinced you otherwise. So you ask him to wait. You try and read his features beneath his stormy gaze. But he knows how to mask himself well. He smiles, kissing your forehead.

“Whatever you say, mesh’la.”

He does not tell you how politics goes and so you learn to read between the lines. 

When he falls short of something, he takes– he’d grab you by the arm, press you down to the nearest surface, and sink his half-hard cock between your unprepared walls. He shushes you when you whine. He forces his fingers down your throat when you persist. He does not wait for you to come. He fucks you for his own pleasure, oftentimes leaving you with his seed between your legs as he goes off to distract himself with his ward.

But when he succeeds… you are reminded of the patient man at the night of your wedding. He’ll ask you of your day and chuckle as you redden, flustered to come up with some linear narrative. He makes love so softly and so gently that for a moment you think you finally understand what it was everyone seemed to see in him. He stops from simply being the Mandal’or, the keeper of his realm, the cunningly vicious commander-in-chief. He softens, he turns somewhat human. He asks if you’d let him. Ask as the prickling of his beard tickles the crook of your neck, letting you pull off your own little chemise of your own volition. Ask as he weighs your breasts and suckles on them so needingly. Ask as he prepares you, bringing you orgasm over orgasm with his fingers and tongue before slowly finally fucking up to you.

As he approaches you now, you try and see which hand you will be dealt with. He sees you, picking through the seeds from the gardeners, trying to decide which would be most suitable for the season. And when you see him, you see his playful smirk as he finally disables his weapon, clipping it to his belt before brushing back a few fallen strands of hair.

“Have you eaten, adi’ka?”

Only then do you know. It was a good day.

—

In the more recent weeks, it had become harder to separate your marriage with your duty. No matter how the Mandal’or shielded you, you still heard the whispers. You still saw the dark visors looking towards you– towards your too-empty womb. You swore you heard someone tsk once. Yet what stuck to you the most was when the Armourer herself visited your riduur so early in the morning.

You were barely awake, pretending to have fallen asleep under the sheets whilst the two of them spoke. The air was tense, and you understood why she had come. She had come to deliver an ultimatum.

“We sought for the most viable being to ensure the safety of your bloodline,” she had been saying. “But seeing that it is not the case, perhaps it would be deemed proper to… seek out another.”

“You will do no such thing,” Din finally intercedes, clearly enraged by the suggestion. You hear the sound of breaking glass, a sharp cuss escaping from him. Did his grip on his drink slip, by all means? “The matters of my wedding bed are none of your business. And I will keep it that way.”

You hear the soft sigh of exasperation. One for each of them.

“I hoped for it to be the same. But you are expected to sire heirs. And in avoiding so… you leave an already unstable, rebuilding world into more chaos.”

You stop listening. It is too much. What hurt most was the knowledge that she was right.

Maybe that’s why you let Din take you completely when you woke again.

He fucks up into you with renewed vigor, muscles taut and begging to be released He growls in your ear when he sees your face contort with pleasure just as your consciousness shakes you awake. “Precious girl, you’re so good-” When you kiss him, he kisses back, when you moan, it makes him all the more determined.

Ever since the night you consummated your marriage, that morning was the first time he felt the prickling ironies of the Maker. It felt good, too good to watch you take his seed so willingly. It was a pleasure he never seemed to understand before.

You try to ask him what the matter was but he does not answer. You look into his eyes and you almost see the way he seemed to look into a different plane of reality, opening himself up to complete and utter surrender.

If only you knew where that look of his would lead you… perhaps you would have tried to wake him from his trance. Instead you let him, fucking you all morning until his duties finally tore him away from you.

—

He began to tell you of how mandal’ors have originally conceived their heirs. Generations upon generations, he claimed, were formed in the temple, blessed by the Makers themselves. He talked of it with such passion, such interest, that you saw it so vividly in your head. The mandal’or and their chosen partner, dressed down in nothing but sheer white robes, drinking from the Living Waters of Mandalore. You could imagine the chants as he whispers it to you in bed, a calling for divinity. Nine months later, a strong heir is born into the world, kicking and screaming with divine power in their bones.

All the while, his bad days grew more and more frequent. His turbulent gaze grew more familiar. So did the sting between your legs when you sit with him at dinner. He stopped talking to you, and instead chose to whisper to himself, muttering incoherent languages whenever he thinks you don’t look. He goes on battles more. His advisors tell you he succeeds, violently, at that. You heard whispers of how he slaughtered a warring tribe, done so without hesitation that no one looked him in the eye as they marched home.

He now fucks you with abandon, uncaring if you happen to pass out in the barrage of thrusts one evening, pinning you down so hard you bruised in another.

More than ever, you begin to feel more lonely. It begins to hurt your chest when, month after month, your husband finds that you still bleed, that once again, you have failed to provide him an heir.

Maybe that is why you suddenly succumb.

When you enter your dark bedroom, hearing his mutterings in the dark, you pretend not to hear, sinking into the sheets as you watch him seated on the edge of his side of the bed.

“Do you think it’s possible,” you began, horrified to hear the terror in your voice. “Do you think it’s possible to do it again?” He looks to you, stormy eyes still unweathered as you try to find the right words.”If we went to the temple, dressed in robes, and drank from the living waters… do you think it would still be the same thing?”

You see the light break in his gaze, rooted as he climbs up the bed to kiss you gently. He smirks in the darkness, as if his prey had finally fallen into his trap.

“I’ll make sure of it, mesh’la.”

—

When you both entered the temple, he was in a good mood. He attended to you all morning, brought you food to bed, brushing your hair with his fingers repeatedly as he watches your movements. Perhaps he was waiting for the moment you changed your mind. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t dare; it’s as if you knew his attitude would change the moment hesitation became apparent. So you smiled, asked him to help you dress, and followed him wherever he went.

Now here you stood, dressed in a thin white robe within the lower levels of the planet. It is quiet, and he is patient with you. It had been so natural, to kneel upon the obsidian banks of the Living Waters, to follow him in prayer, attempting your best to recreate the phonetics of Mando’a. And when you kneeled to cup fluid in your hands, it made sense. The water was cool and sweet to the touch, extinguishing the last embers of hesitation in your chest– and perhaps finally defeating your will, subduing you into the role the world has laid out for you.

It is difficult to describe the feeling of divinity cracking open your mind in submission. You feel pinpricks and shivers against your scalp, an electrifying presence that only grows stronger when Din Djarin presses his lips against the crook of your neck. He is so gentle about it, trailing his hands up and down your trembling torso, whispering pet names into your ear as you fully relax.against his touch.

Perhaps it was Pavlovian. Because whenever he spoke to you in Mando’a, it was like a shared secret, like nothing but the two of you mattered. Mesh’la, cya’re, adi’ka.

You try and respond whenever you can. Riduur, riduur, riduur.

He disrobes you, and the pinpricks of energy seem to follow his fingers wherever they went. “Sometimes I think you’re just divine,” he whispers, making you giggle as his rough beard scratches against the skin of your back, your thighs, the skin of your stomach. He seemed to stop right above where he imagined your womb to be, muttering once again in incomprehensible Mando’a, kissing the skin as you shut your eyes and melt into his touch.

In your hands, my love, you wanted to tell him, I find my devotion.

He lays you on a bed of smoother rocks, leaving himself on top of you, so close that you see that tranced look in his eyes, see how much intense it had been from the last time in the bedroom. You try and make him look at you, but he sees nothing, even with you sprawled, willing and brand new right before him. He focuses his actions on tasting your sweet little cunt, groaning at the feeling of your walls barely letting his tongue in.

“Always so tight for me, pretty girl.” He sounds so different, so distant.

So you shut your eyes. You pretend.

“Give me an heir, Din,” you finally whisper, spreading your legs for him, welcoming him to take. “A beautiful little heir…”

He does not even disrobe himself. But when he kisses you, he silences the doubts in your mind. His hands wander, exploring your skin anew before he finally cups your face gently, making you look at him before he carefully, lovingly fucks the head of his hard cock into your wanting cunt.

The stretch is glorious, comfortable. You feel your slick working to open you up for him. Your moan reverberates from the high walls of the caverns, combined with the feral growl that escapes the man above you. “That’s it. Just like that, cya’re. You like it, don’t you?” You try not to cry, feeling as if your husband had transformed right before your very eyes and you didn’t even know it.

You stare the man you love in the face, the keeper of Mandalore, the warrior divine, the bearer of the darksaber that tore from town after town. He kisses you again, and you try and recognize which parts of him remained the same. He is still Din. He responds to the same name. He kisses you the same way he does on the good days. He sounds the same, he still likes it when you tangle your hands into his hair and mewl needingly into his ear. You’d still follow him anywhere, even if he didn’t ask.

And then you try to recognize where he had changed. His hands pin you too tightly by your shoulders. Up close like this, you finally see the ghoulish dark circles under his eyes. He hasn’t been sleeping. His jaw, permanently locked as a tell of his alertness. It must have been weeks since he had ever felt at peace.

His rough fingers reach down to rub you through an orgasm, pausing to witness the way your body writhed from the pleasures brought about by your hand. He gets to have you this way. Only he gets to have you this way. Only he gave you the pleasure you felt burning through your bones. And it is enough. It is enough as he fucks you through the tidal waves, chasing his own release in a heavenly blend of cries and moans.

By the Maker, he thinks, perhaps You truly did exist. Only You are capable of creating such a glorious act of creation in her.

There is something different when he fills you up there, blessed by the Living Waters of his own planet, the same waters that sanctified him. He bites your lip until it bleeds, thrusting once, twice, before his knees buckle and he is falling into you, dazed and drunken from the very smell of your combined spent.

He makes you promise that you’ll never leave him. “Swear it, adi’ka. Right here where the heirs of Mandalore came into being.”

You promise. You swear.

He kisses you, and you try and pretend that you didn’t notice the way he had begun to force his mouth against yours. Even his kisses are changing too.

[coco-bean-1218]

Well-Behaved Women Never Make History

Prologue: Part One: “A Date Which Shall Live In Infamy”

Chapter Soundtrack https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLizoOuqex7dKa_E3lICq4Rs0MrLoPcAHo&si=n8hgCN8T81xPMCpn

Summary: After the Attack of Pearl Harbor, almost nineteen-year-old Claire O'Connor begins to wonder what's in store for her future.

A/N: Hi everyone! and welcome to my first-ever fanfic. I've had this idea for about two years now and decided to take the risk and put it out there. Please be gentle with me, this is my first ever chapter. I hope everyone enjoys and please feel free to like, comment, and reblog, but do not repost!

Warnings: The Attack on Pearl Harbor, period typical behavior, anxiety

Taglist: Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

Sunday, December 7, 1941 Metropolitan Detroit, Michigan, USA 2:30 PM Eastern Time 9:00 AM Hawaiian Time

---

"We interrupt this program with an important announcement."

Claire was sitting on her bed, studying biology for her upcoming final exam when the Christmas music playing on the small radio in her room was abruptly interrupted by the announcement.

"The Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor from the air and all naval and military activities on the island of Oahu, the principal American base in the Hawaiian islands."

Claire's eyebrows furrowed as she listened to the news. The weight of the reporter's words hung heavy in the air, and Claire felt a knot form in her stomach.

"It is no joke, it is a real war," the reporter said, his voice filled with a mix of urgency and somberness

"Mom?" she called out of her room, hoping for some reassurance

When there was no response, Claire quickly made her way down the stairs.

"Mom?" she called again.

"In the kitchen," her mother replied calmly.

Claire entered the kitchen and found her mother standing near the sink. She looked composed, but there was a flicker of concern in her eyes. "Turn on the radio," Claire pleaded, her voice trembling slightly.

"Alright, take it easy," Mrs. O'Connor raised her hands in defense, understanding the urgency in her daughter's tone. She went into the living room and switched on the big radio, anticipation filling the room.

"-Again, the Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor. We are at war," the voice on the radio croaked, the words sinking into the depths of their souls.

"Oh my God!" Her mother exclaimed.

The two women looked at each other stunned, realizing the gravity of the situation.

"I'm going to call your dad," Mrs. O'Connor declared.

It was just Claire and her mother at home. Her father was at work, and her older sister was attending a school event on starting her Master’s degree.

Mrs. O'Connor walked to the phone and dialed her husband's work number. Meanwhile, Claire made her way back up the stairs. As she reached the landing, her gaze was drawn irresistibly to the large window in the front room. The world outside was transformed, covered in a pristine blanket of snow. The flakes fell gracefully from the sky, swirling and twirling in the gentle breeze. The entire landscape was bathed in a soft, ethereal glow.

Despite the chaos that Claire knew was unfolding beyond the confines of her home, there was an undeniable sense of tranquility in that moment. Snow had a way of hushing the world and creating a peaceful sanctuary. It was as if time had momentarily stood still, allowing Claire to find solace in the beauty of the scene before her.

Upon returning to her room, Claire slumped onto her bed and spaced out, losing all motivation to study. Biology was the last thing on her mind.

---

About an hour had passed when Claire walked down the stairs and headed straight for the phone. She dialed a number and tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for someone to answer. As she waited, her mother appeared holding a basket of laundry. 

"Who are you calling?" Her mother inquired. 

Claire lowered the phone from her ear and replied, "Peyton." 

Mrs. O'Connor smiled knowingly, "Ah."

Since fourth grade, Peyton has been Claire's best friend. When they were younger, they used to spend most of their time together and were inseparable. As they grew older, it became increasingly difficult to stay in touch. Currently, both girls are in college pursuing different fields of study. While Claire is interested in the sciences, Peyton has a passion for the arts. Despite their differences, they still hold a deep affection for each other. At least Claire hopes so.

But there was no answer.

Claire let out a deep sigh, "Figures."

"No response?" Her mother asked.

"Nope."

"Well, try later," Her mother assured her

Claire shrugged and walked into the living room. She sat on the sofa, staring out the window, her gaze fixed on the snow outside. As she sat there, she absentmindedly started picking at her nails, a long-time nervous habit.

Claire has always been a worrier since early childhood. Usually, she was not one to listen to the news. However, like most people, she was aware of the tensions in the Pacific and Europe. Today was different. Today, the world had an effect on her.

[itsyourchoicedevotionals]

Without Investigating

“Now the Israelites settled in Egypt in the region of Goshen…” Genesis 47:27NIV

“Then the LORD said to Moses, “Stretch out your hand toward heaven, so that darkness may spread over the land of Egypt—a palpable darkness. …total darkness covered all the land of Egypt for three days. No one could see anyone else, and for three days no one left his place. Yet all the Israelites had light in their dwellings.” Exodus 10:21-23BSB

Have you ever been in a cavern, when the tour guide shuts off the light momentarily? The darkness can be felt. We stand in sin’s darkness equal to the darkness of a cavern. People are so lost in this darkness, they have nothing pointing to the way out. 

Many of the people lost in this darkness are believers in Christ who have succumbed to a lie and lost their way— “…for this cause God shall send them strong delusion, that they should believe a lie: that they all might be damned who believed not the truth, but had pleasure in unrighteousness” 2Thessalonians 2:11-12KJV. They chose to believe lies rather than the truth of the gospel. That single choice cost them their salvation, —Matthew 24:12.  Meanwhile they believe they’re going to heaven. Lies such as: ‘the Bible is not the infallible word of God;’ ‘Jesus was not birthed by a virgin mother;’ ‘all religions lead to God.’

Society has become overrun by the demonic. One major area I’ve seen the Believers’ passion waning is the political arena— aka government. These Believers have accepted the lie stating they need to stay out of politics. 

God—Jesus is a judge, and King with a government which will never end— see Luke 1:32-33. Then 2Corinthians 5:10NIV “…we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ…”showing, there’s a courtroom in heaven. Somewhere the church became sidetracked. We’ve not been effective in changing the world’s governments by our belief system.  (Newsflash! The reason our world is in such a mess is because Believers don’t hold all of the political offices. Those who do hold offices are fraught with backlash from the overwhelming majority of worldly politicians.) 

Absurdly, Christians are prone to pick candidates according to the political parties of their parents, friends, even the evening news. They do so without investigating politician’s political platforms; where the individual candidate’s actions say they stand; often their voting records. 

Believers numerically have the ability to seat and unseat any politician, IF EVERYONE of us would all vote. Too many Believers say, ‘oh it’s all fake or crooked,’ or ‘I don’t like any of the candidates,’ ‘my vote doesn’t count,’ —therefore I won’t vote. A non-vote is a vote for evil and Holy Spirit sees it. As Believers, all of us, bearing the name of Jesus must pray to get the mind of Christ— then vote. Even if it means voting against our favored political party. Perhaps I am a bit opinionated, but I don’t know how a true Believer could vote for anyone whose political party supports abortion or euthanasia, because that’s murder, Proverbs 24:11NIV “Rescue those being led away to death; hold back those staggering toward slaughter.” God alone has that right to choose the time of death.

Darkness wasn’t allowed in Goshen where the Israelites had settled. They lived in light. None of the evil Egyptian government’s plagues came upon them. They were freed from the sufferings of their slave masters. Per 1Thessalonians 5:5NASB1977 we— “are all sons of light and sons of day. We are not of night nor of darkness;” Our every action and motive of our hearts must come from the Kingdom of our God and His Light within us. Which way will you choose? It’s your choice. You choose.

LET’S PRAY: Holy God we choose to live in the light of Your way and Your gospel. Help us to hold on to You in belief, in the nama of Jesus Christ I pray.

by Debbie Veilleux

Copyright 2024 You have my permission to reblog this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional. as author. Thank you.

[writeroutoftime]

the ruse

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader (requested by: anon)

summary: when you are in love with anthony, and anthony refuses to deal with his emotions, it is up to benedict to step in and push his brother in the right direction 

warnings: none

words: 2.3k 

a/n: sooo, I kinda went overboard on the word count lol, but I just had so much fun writing this story! thank you to the anon you sent this request in, and I hope that you enjoy it! please reblog/comment and let me know what you think, and I hope you’re having a fabulous day! 💛

oOoOo

“You know, if you stare hard enough, you may just burn through my brother’s head, though he’d still be an ignorant ass.” a voice suddenly spoke from behind you startling you as you placed a hand over your heart. 

“Benedict, you know better than to sneak up on me.” you scolded playfully, before dropping your smile and looking back towards the dance floor. “And I should not know of which you speak, I was simply...admiring this evening’s festivities.” 

Benedict could only chuckle at your weak attempt to conceal your feelings. “I suppose that would be true if my brother were tonight’s festivities.” 

“Are my feelings that obvious?” you asked, followed by a dramatic sigh.

“To everyone but Anthony, it seems.” Benedict admitted

“Then I suppose I should count myself lucky I have yet to be exposed by Lady Whistledown.” 

“Perhaps.” he chuckled, then his eyes widened as he hurriedly extended his arm out to you when he saw he noticed a group of young ladies headed his way. “Would you care to trouble me for a dance, Miss. y/n?” 

Your eyes narrowed in faux annoyance, secretly enjoying Benedict’s panic. “Now, would this be to raise my spirits, or to keep you away from ambitious mamas and their eligible daughters?” 

“If I were to tell you both?” he offered desperately.

“Then I should be delighted to dance with you, Mr. Bridgerton.” you laughed and allowed Benedict to lead you to the dance floor where the quartet had just struck up a new tune.

Momentarily forgetting of Anthony and your unrequited feelings, you allowed Benedict to twirl you around the room, unable to stop the giggles and bursts of laughter that escaped your lips. The two of you were unbothered by any strange looks you received from the rest of the ton, and simply enjoyed the simple steps of the dance and a chance to catch up with Benedict. It wasn’t until the dance began to near its end that you noticed that something at the edge of the dancefloor and over your shoulder had caught Benedict’s eye.  

“Don’t look now, but I think Anthony may now be burning a hole into my head.” Benedict whispered into your ear as he spun you one final time.

“It’s not nice to tease.” you scolded, your heart aching at the mere thought that you could have the power to make Anthony Bridgerton jealous.

By the time the last chord vibrated through the room, you and Benedict offered each other a slight bow before Benedict looked at you with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “I have an idea.” 

“How shocking.” you teased, only to be met with Benedict’s pinched expression, so you relented and allowed him to continue.  

“If we were to pretend that I was courting you, then Anthony would surely become jealous and be driven to admit his feelings for you.” Benedict proposed, seemingly proud of his brilliant idea.

It was hard not to laugh aloud at Benedict’s plan, despite his good intentions behind it, because there was no way that it would work. In fact, you were sure that if you agreed, the only thing you would discover would be a greater heartache than you already had. “I hardly think that would work, Benedict. Besides, I don’t wish to put either of us through that.” you explained.

“You may think that is the case, but look over your left shoulder. I think you shall find my elder brother ready to murder me for simply being within five feet of you.”

Following his instructions, you briefly glanced over your shoulder and caught Anthony’s hard glare directed at Benedict. However, the moment Anthony caught your eye, he offered a nervous grin and promptly turned and made a beeline for the refreshment table. It seemed that was all the clarification you needed, even if it was a longshot, because next thing you knew you turned back to Benedict with a determined smile.

“What did you have in mind?”

oOoOo

The next morning, you found yourself in the foyer of Bridgerton House nervously ringing your hands together waiting for Benedict to come and greet you. As you waited, you kept thinking how ridiculous this plan was, but there was the smallest sliver of hope deep inside you that kept you from backing out. It wasn’t long before a Bridgerton came strolling through the foyer, though not the right Bridgerton.

“y/n,” Anthony called out, an instant smile on his face. “it’s lovely to see you! What brings you by?” 

It was hard to not just confess your deception then and there, but you kept your resolve and leaned into the part of the coy and flirtatious debutante. “Well, Benedict invited me for tea when he called on me this morning.” you explained, waving your hand nonchalantly.

“Benedict c-called on you?” Anthony stuttered in clear shock. 

Fluttering your eyes, you looked at the ground with a faux bashful look on your face. “He did, and he brought me the most beautiful bouquet of flowers.”

Anthony only offered a short grunt in response, though it seemed as if he wanted to say more than a few choice words directed at his brother. Something bubbled within you at his reaction, and so you decided to turn up your performance.  

“He really is such a wonderful suitor. With the flowers, and his wonderful works of art, and he’s so graceful while dancing, and not to mention incredibly handsome.” you gushed while simultaneously watching Anthony clench his jaw and fists to hold back his anger.

Before either of you could go on, Benedict walked down the stairs and stifled a laugh at the situation he had stumbled upon. “Miss. y/l/n, wonderful to see you again.” Benedict greeted, gently grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “Brother.” he said, acknowledging Anthony before turning his back to you. “Mother and Daphne have tea ready in the drawing room if you wish to join us.” he asked, extending his arm out to you.

“Of course.” you giggled, holding onto his arm. “Goodbye, Anthony.” you waved before Benedict lead you back upstairs, the both you trying to contain your laughter over Anthony’s nearly steaming figure behind you.

oOoOo

The ruse you and Benedict concocted had been going on for a few weeks, and it was difficult to not be disappointed by Anthony’s lack of action. Though you could tell that he seemed upset or angered by the growing ‘relationship’ between you and Benedict, he had yet to say or do anything that proved he returned your feelings. It wasn’t long before you began to feel guilty for toying with his emotions like that, but Benedict convinced you to hold out just a bit longer.

“I know my brother, y/n, and he’s most likely trying to convince himself he does not have feelings for you.” Benedict explained, then quickly rushed to continue when he noticed your fallen face. “Not because he doesn’t care, but because he feels like he cannot be happy. We just need to give him that final push for everything to fall into place.”

“I suppose,” you began. “but perhaps we should abandon ship if nothing comes over our rouse by the end of this week.”

Benedict sighed, but agreed, nonetheless. “If that is what you wish, y/n.”

Before either of you could comment further, Anthony suddenly appeared before you. “y/n, Benedict.” Anthony acknowledge with a small smile directed at you, effectively ignoring his brother’s presence. “y/n, I was wondering if you might save me your first dance at the Cowper ball this Friday?” Anthony asked, a slight grin present on his face.

“Unfortunately, brother, y/n has already promised me her first dance.” Benedict interrupted, lifting your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

Anthony stared for a moment, something akin to hurt swimming in his eyes before he cleared his throat and offered you a small bow. “Forgive me. I suppose I shall let the two of you finish your promenade.” he said as he walked away.

The rest of time you spent with Benedict, you couldn’t help but see Anthony’s look of disappointment and sadness each time you closed your eyes. Though Benedict had claimed otherwise, you knew you wanted to put an end to this ruse, and then you would be able to apologize to Anthony, hopefully clearing the air around you.

oOoOo

Dearest Reader, 

It seems that this author has a new couple to report this season. Apparently, Mr. Benedict Bridgerton and Miss. y/n y/l/n have been engaged in a courtship for the past few weeks. Though many believed the two to only be friends, we all know that friendship is one of the best bases for marriage. The couple looked particularly smitten with each other as they promenaded through Hyde Park multiple times this week. Perhaps a proposal is not too far behind, but rest assured this author will be the first to report when it does happen. 

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers

Later that day, Anthony sat in his office and crumpled the gossip column, throwing it in the fire and watching as the words burned before his eyes. There had been a growing sense of disappointment and slight jealousy within him the past few weeks as Anthony watched his chances with you slip from his fingers and into the hands of his brother. At the thought of Benedict, Anthony felt rage boil within him. It was no secret, unfortunately, to his mother and siblings that he held feelings for you, and Anthony could not help but feel hurt by Benedict’s actions.

The moment Anthony heard the front door open and the voice of said brother, he jumped to his feet and began to stalk towards the foyer. If you truly wanted to be with Benedict, Anthony would not stand in your way, but he needed to guarantee Benedict would treat you the way you deserved to be treated. As soon as he saw his brother, Anthony had him slammed up against the wall.

“What are your intentions with Miss. y/l/n?” Anthony demanded, eyes flaring with anger.  

“What are you talking about?” Benedict asked as he tried to escape his brother’s grip. 

“What are your intentions with y/n?” he repeated, to which Benedict only smirked. “What is so funny, brother?” 

Benedict fought to not roll his eyes at Anthony’s blindness to the situation. “I assure you my intentions are perfectly honorable, though it is of no matter to you.” 

“That is not true.” Anthony growled, eyes growing dangerously dark.

“y/n is a beautiful lady and I have come to recognize that. Just because you do not have the guts to do anything about it does not mean I cannot.” Benedict argued, still trying to pry Anthony’s hands off of him.

“That is why you are pursuing her? Because she is beautiful?” 

Benedict cocked his head to the side. “You think she is not?” 

“Of course, she is, but she is so much more than that.” Anthony said and continued when Benedict offered no response, letting his hands drop to his sides. “She is...she is the most wonderful person I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Being next to y/n feels like I can breathe and be myself unlike around the rest of the ton. She is not afraid to laugh too loud, or take a wrong step in a dance, or even run around when Hyacinth and Gregory beg for her attention. She is always there for a friend in need, and when I am with her, I never want to be away from her. She makes me feel whole, and I only wish to be worthy enough to be the one to make her smile, comfort her when she is down, and love her for the rest of my life.”

There was a small gasp at the end of Anthony’s declaration, and he turned around to see you standing there, tears shining in your eyes. “y/n!” Anthony called out feeling panic consume him. “I-I had no idea you were standing there. You must forgi-“

“Did you mean it?’ you cut him off, your eyes not leaving his. “Did you truly mean what you just told Benedict?” you repeated, your eyes watery from everything you had just heard.

Anthony stalled for a moment, scanning your features to try and gather some sense of your reaction. Eventually, he sighed and mumbled a quiet “Yes.” while looking down at the floor, mistaking your tears for those of disappointment or embarrassment.

Without hesitation, you closed the gap between you and Anthony, taking one of his hands in yours while your other hand rested on his jaw and prompted him to look you in your eyes. “I have been in love with you, Anthony Bridgerton, for so long. Hearing everything you just said filled me with so much hope. Please never doubt your worth around me because you are all I want.” you whispered as a smile stretched across your lips.

A breathy laugh came from Anthony, and before you knew it, he had wrapped his arms around you and pressed his lips against your lips for a gentle kiss. Though it was not the most apprioate spot for such actions, Benedict was the only one around, and despite his slight disgust over the scene between his brother and friend, he was overjoyed for the two of you.

When Anthony pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours and simply took in the moment, gently stroking your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. “So, you were never interested in Benedict?” he suddenly asked, stepping back to look between you and his brother.

“I just had to make sure you realized what was in front of you, brother.” Benedict explained, knowing it was time he took his leave now that his job was complete. “But if I were you, I would be careful with such displays. If mother saw the two of you, she would be over the moon, but your wedding would be scheduled before the week’s end.” he teased, turning to give you and Anthony some privacy.

“That doesn’t sound so bad, Mr. Bridgerton.” you smirked, toying with Anthony’s cravat.

“Not in the slightest, Miss. y/l/n.” Anthony chuckled, pulling you back in for the second of a lifetime full of kisses.

oOoOo

tagging: @dreaming-about-fanfictions​, @elennox03

[theartoflovingthomashunt]

The Bogart Diaries #23: Trouble (Part One)

Masterlists: [All Thomas Hunt x Alex Spencer]  [The Bogart Diaries]

Characters: Thomas Hunt, Alex, Bogart Hunt (dog) Book: Red Carpet Diaries [Hunt x F!OC] Word Count:  ~500 Rating: General/all the fluff Prompt: costume ~ @choicesoctoberchallenge

Synopsis: An ad on Instagram gives Alex an idea.

"Aww," Alex cooed. Her eyes widened at the sponsored post that appeared on her screen as she scrolled through her feed. "Look!"

Thomas glanced up momentarily to the device extended in front of him. He studied the advertisement and then returned his attention to the book he was attempting to read.

"Nothing? Really?!" Alex pouted, still holding her phone toward him, shaking it as she tried to regain his attention. "You have nothing to say?"

"Do I need to?" He offered simply, his focus still on the text in his hands.

Alex's gaze shifted to the black lab lying on the dog bed beside the couch. "What do you think, Bogart? Matching Halloween costumes for the three of us?"

The dog's ears perked up at her cheerful tone. He barked once at the attention, his tail beating quietly on the carpeted floor.

"I guess it's settled then." Her finger hovered over the shop now button, though her focus was on Thomas.

He exhaled through his nose, his eyes closing, knowing she was waiting for his response. "No."

"No?" She questioned as if she hadn't understood.

"Yes."

"Yes?!!!"

"No!"

"So is that no meaning no? or no meaning yes?"

"Alex!" He rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Oh, come on," she shifted closer, resting against his arm as she scrolled through the website. "There are so many cute matching costumes. It doesn't have to be that specific one. At least take a look at the other choices!"

Setting his book to the side, he turned into her. He cupped her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. "I love you, but we've discussed this. There are limits, even for you and Bogart."

She chewed her lip as she turned into his hand, hiding her growing smile. "That doesn't sound right... Are you sure I can't convince you?" Her breath was warm on his neck as she kissed the corner of his jaw just below his ear.

"I shall leave the matching of costumes to you and Bogart," he insisted, unmoved by her pleas. "I am quite content with my choice of attire and usual state of dress."

Alex's eyes widened, her lips turned down as she batted her eyelashes purposefully. She opened her mouth to protest but instead found his last words replaying in her head. The pout quickly turned to a simpering smirk as a new idea filled her thoughts. Her tone changed readily, "okay. I understand." She pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek and popped up off the couch, flitting out of the room, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

His gaze narrowed as he watched his wife retreat; he had expected more resistance to his refusal. This was too easy. His brow quirked up curiously, and his gaze shifted to Bogart, "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

Bogart tilted his head in consideration. His tongue fell forward as he panted happily. The corner of his mouth pulled up as if even he knew there was more to be had.

This wasn't over, not by a long shot. Whatever she had decided, Thomas knew there was no stopping it. Now that Alex had the idea, all he could do was wait to see what was in store for them.

[Part Two]

A/N: Hopefully part two will follow tomorrow. 🤞 (will update with a link here when it's published)

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this. I appreciate it if you made it this far. Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

Tags in a reblog, please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the list.

A/N 2: I saw the ad in the title banner and got the idea for this drabble which helped me finally settle on part two... part two has been in WIP for months! I needed the perfect set up and this drabble is it!

[rose7420]

Things Get Better

When Y/n gets hurt her only hope is with the god of mischief... requested by @lokiismyhubby

(Y/S/C)- Your skin color

Warnings: Some description about a broken bone

Y/n cradled her arm closely to her chest. While sneaking around, she had lost her balance on the third shelf of Loki’s bookcase. The little literature fanatic had become too enamored by the dozens of books upon the shelves. Now, while the shelf may have been knee height for his imposing frame the drop certainly wasn’t a short one for a person of Y/n’s stature. Her foot slipped off the side as she backed up just a little too far attempting to read the spine of an eye-catching book and consequently she fell towards the hard ground holding her arms out to break her fall. Her outstretched limbs prevented her face from slamming hard into the wood but took a lot of damage. Her arm was at a very unnatural angle, tender and warm to the touch. There was no way she’d be able to fix this on her own.

She looked over to Loki’s desk where he was slouched over, staring intently at papers before him with a scowl. His head was propped up by his hand, arm resting on the table. She took a deep breath and tip-toed her way towards him. A part of her wanted him to notice her steps and the other part wanted to dash in the opposite direction.

It didn’t take a genius to guess which instinct was stronger at the time for the borrower.

She had watched Loki for a while now. The man was intelligent, cunning, and mischievous. But she still trusted him for some unknown reason. Perhaps because of the way his green eyes never missed anything, or how she felt he knew what people were thinking with a glance. No matter the fact that she was pretty sure this man was a literal wizard.

No literally, she’d watched him make books and animals appear out of thin air. Or how he’d glamour himself as a completely different person on some occasions.

Now that was creepy… but cool.

She approached his black boot that was anxiously tapping away, sending tremors through her body. Her eyes followed the extent of his form. Even sitting his frame was unfathomably large, towering over her without effort. A shiver ran through her body as she thought of all the ways he could effortlessly kill her.

Suddenly, his foot shifted and came close to knocking little Y/n off her own feet. She squeaked in alarm, drawing the attention of the giant above.

Loki’s attention was lost from the paperwork in front of him and drawn to the noise he heard below him.

How odd, he thought.

Peering down at his feet, his eyes widened at the sight of a minuscule figure standing beside his boot.

“Oh my.” He whispered.

He slowly stood up out of his chair, towering over the little being. He quickly knelt down to lessen the distance between them. He reached out a curious hand but stopped his movement when the person shouted something he couldn’t make out. As he looked closer he saw that the person was a female, and seemed to be holding their arm as if she was injured.

“Are you hurt?” He asked.

The girl nodded, “Yes sir...I-I was hoping you could help me.” She stated with hesitancy, heart pounding. Could hearts pound out of your chest?

Hopefully not.

Loki’s tough facade softened immediately, knowing that such a tiny soul would ask him for help out of all people.

“Of course dear, let’s move to a different spot.” He lowered his palm before her, flattening his fingers to offer an easier step up.

Oh hell no, she thought; scrambling away from the outstretched hand.

“Hey now… I’m not going to hurt you. You asked for help, right? I’m here to help. I promise no foul play.”

He watched as she approached his hand cautiously and experimentally sunk her own hand into his skin. He held back a smile from the ticklish sensation. He was awed by the fact that this girl was no taller than his thumb, standing at most of two inches tall. She paused for a moment looking back up at Loki as if asking for permission. He nodded trying to lessen the intimidating expression he usually wore into a softer, more trustable one. Her tiny weight upon his palm tickled even more as she scooted closer to the middle of his hand. Seeing that she was settled, he curled his fingers around her but left her a good amount of breathing room.

“What’s your name dear?” He questioned, holding her at chest level.

He watched her mouth move not being able to hear her clearly. Slowly he raised his hand bearing her closer to his face, able to hear and see her clearly.

“I was not able to hear you down there, could you repeat that?” He said, missing how tense his simple movement had made the small girl.

“M-my name’s Y/n.” She stuttered, her hand of her uninjured arm twiddling with her threadbare shirt.

“Well Y/n, let’s get you fixed up, shall we?” He lowered his palm to the desk he was sitting at previously, removing all the papers with one large sweep of his arm.

Y/n was curious as to what the papers were for. She remembered watching him earlier and how agitated he’d looked while staring down at them.

“What are those papers for?” She asked innocently.

Loki looked at her confused as to why she would want to know as he sat down.

“Just paperwork.” He said simply.

Paperwork? What did that mean? Her confusion must’ve shown on her face when Loki spoke again.

“You do know what that is now Little One?”, humor coating his voice.

Rather embarrassed, Y/n’s cheeks flushed but she shook her head.

“Let me see your arm dear,” Loki ordered kindly, changing the subject. Y/n held it out hesitantly, the pain was almost unbearable as she moved the unstable limb. She cried out in pain, prompting Loki to lean in closer and pinch her slight wrist in his large fingers.

He was once again awed by how he couldn't even see the small hand between his fingers. He did however feel the dainty tendons and bones moving under his tender, gentle touch.

“How did you even manage to hurt yourself?” He asked with curiosity and worry.

“I fell off your shelf,” Y/n said meekly, ducking her head. Loki didn’t overlook her shyness, in fact, he wished to comfort her but he had to take care of the primary problem as of right now. He closed his eyes, imagining the bones mending back together and the arm reverting back to its (Y/S/C) tint. He opened his eyes and her arms were back to the original.

Y/n looked down at her arms in amazement. She turned her forearms upright and down. Looking up at Loki, who was already staring down at her she felt a smile stretch across her lips. Without thinking much of it, she jumped up enthusiastically and ran to his nearby hand. She threw her arms around his thumb.

“Thank you, Loki!”

Loki smiled and chuckled at the girl’s heartfelt actions. He curled his fingers in and wrapped her in a hug; the best he could offer at their different sizes.

“So Little One… you like books and you know my name; without me informing you of it… I must say you interest me very much so.”

Y/n immediately let go of his finger, backing away with dread. Before she got too far away she bumped into a wall… of skin? Loki’s hand blocked her from going any further, the huge palm thrice her own height.

“Why are you leaving?” He asked quizzically.

“Well, I invaded your privacy. I didn’t think humans liked that.” Y/n stated as a matter-of-fact her voice shaky.

“First of all… I am not a mortal or human as you say and secondly, it doesn’t bother me if you looked at my things. I’m rather happy to know someone likes literature as much as myself. Why don’t we settle down and find a good book to read?”

Y/n nodded still processing that he wasn’t human. That explained all the magic stuff. She watched as Loki strutted to the bookshelf bending down to look for the perfect book. Once he’d made his selection, he walked back to the desk and scooped Y/n up, holding her in a protective cave of fingers against his chest. He sat down on the plush bed and reclined his back against the headboard letting his legs stretch out. Y/n was astounded by how tall he was. The simple length of his legs surpassed her own house! He let Y/n crawl onto his chest, who found the fabric of his cotton shirt soft and warm. She snuggled in the blanket of his shirt and listened to him read. His voice was soothing as the deepness of it reverberated through her entire being. He let the book rest upon his upper stomach where she could see the page clearly but the words were still printed too big for her to read properly.

A little way into the story, an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation started on her back. She looked over her shoulder to see the tip of a large finger making circles on the itty width of her back. The rumbling beneath her stopped as Loki paused his reading. She turned all the way around, to face Loki. He stopped rubbing her back momentarily.

“Is everything all right?” He asked.

Y/n thought about that simple question. This kind giant had helped her immensely. The kindness in Loki’s heart surpassing even his immense stature. She smiled shyly back at him.

“Everything is all right.” And it truly was.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed like and reblog!

[hufflautia]

In Sickness and in Health

Requested by @milk-leaves!​  

Warnings: A very brief and non-explicit sexual implication

Summary: Slytherin catches the flu. Luckily, her husband is there to help. However, her stubborn nature and insistent claim that “she can’t be sick because she’s never been sick in her entire life” makes it a little difficult for Hufflepuff to assist her. Marriage isn’t always easy, but with the proper amount of love and patience, everything works out in the end. 

Slytherin grabs the garbage can just in time to vomit into the basket. When she finishes, she wipes her mouth with a grimace and rests her forehead against the bed. 

“Honey?” 

She looks up and sees Hufflepuff standing by the door, his forehead puckered as he takes in her appearance. Her hair unruly, she’s slumped on the floor of their bedroom, looking tired and pale. 

Usually, Slytherin would be happy to see her husband. However, all she feels is irritation in the wake of his presence, and she leans against the side of the mattress once more. 

“What are you doing here,” she croaks, eyeing him as he approaches her and kneels down. “I thought you had to go to the Ministry today.” 

“It was a minor emergency, so I left early.” He regards her carefully. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” 

Hufflepuff frowns. “But you threw up.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been doing that a lot today,” she murmurs weakly. Noticing his eyes widen, she snorts. “I’m not pregnant if that’s what you’re thinking. I got my period today.”  

He gives her a sympathetic look. “I imagine it’s been a very fun day for you.” 

“The best I’ve ever had, actually.” 

Leaning in ever so slightly, that’s when Hufflepuff sees it—the faint flush on her face, the way she folds her arm around herself, the tinge of hoarseness in her voice.  

He reaches out and touches Slytherin’s forehead. Her skin feels hot and cold at the same time. She bats away his hand in annoyance. “What are you doing,” she snaps, scowling at him. Her anger immediately falters when she notices how his eyebrows rise, a look of surprise mixed with hurt spreading onto his face. 

“You have a fever,” he confirms quietly. 

Slytherin resists a frown. “But I never get sick.” 

“Well, it happens to the best of us.” He gets up. “Wait here, I’ll get some medicine.” 

“I don’t need it,” she calls after him but he’s already in the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets. He returns with a bottle and a small cup. Taking a seat before pouring red liquid into the cup, he ignores her when she says his name in a tone of indignation, insisting that she isn’t sick.

Hufflepuff hands it to her. “Drink,” he says firmly. When she juts her chin out and pouts, he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Honey, I know you don’t want to, but it’ll make you feel better.”

She still doesn’t move. This time, he returns her unyielding stare with one of his own. His tone is hard and demanding as he warns, “I’m not gonna repeat myself.” 

Slytherin grudgingly brings the cup to her lips. If she didn't feel like complete shit right now, she would keep pushing his patience for fun. She’d even be a little turned on by his authoritative voice. Probably both. 

She immediately makes a face as the medicine slides down her throat. “This tastes like ass,” she grumbles, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth and setting the cup down. 

He chuckles. “Medicine tends to taste that way.” He stands and offers his hand. “Come. I’m sure a warm shower sounds perfect right now.”  

A faint smile twitches at the corner of her mouth. “How’d you know,” she asks, taking his hand. A wave of nausea sweeps over her when she gets up, and he quickly plants his hands on either side of her. 

“I’m your husband,” he pulls her closer, “I know these things.” 

Slytherin wraps her arms around him. “Will you carry me to the bathroom,” she mumbles into his sweater. 

He presses a kiss to the top of her head before picking her up bridal-style with care. 

“Do you even have to ask?” 

A couple of hours pass. Feeling drowsy from the medicine, Slytherin took a long nap before waking up to the smell of homemade soup. Hufflepuff cooked something for her while she was sleeping. To her dismay, he also gave her another cup of NyQuil, but she drank it without any resistance. Afterwards, her headache subsided and was diminished to a dull pain, which is nothing compared to before. 

Now, she is laying in bed, feeling comfortable and content as she snuggles with her husband while he reads her favorite book out loud. She’ll probably never openly admit it but she loves when they cuddle. Listening to the smooth drawl of his voice, she catches a few words while dozing in and out of sleep. Her lips curve into a smile. He’s getting to her favorite part where he speaks in a ridiculous voice when reading the dialogue of an ancient wizard. 

Hufflepuff had read the book to her before when they were dating. He used the same wise and raspy voice as he uses now. At that moment, as she attempted to hold in her laughter, she knew he was the one. Funnily enough, he ended up proposing to her a month later. 

Feeling the familiar tug in her heart that can only be classified as complete adoration, Slytherin musters enough strength to pull herself out of the cozy arms of sleep. She shifts around so that she can properly see his face and says his name tenderly. 

“What is it,” he asks, putting the book down. “Is your headache still bothering you?” 

“A little, but...I’m sorry for being mean to you before. I was angry at you for no reason, but it might’ve been because of my period, and you already know how bad my PMS gets sometimes, but I still feel terrible about being so rude because you’re so great and sweet and you were only trying to help but I was being so difficult and I think I’m just not really used to people taking care of me, so I was trying to handle this flu on my own but I still shouldn’t have acted that way—and I literally hit your fucking hand and I hate myself for it because you don’t deserve it at all, you deserve so much more than whatever I have to offer...” Words continue to spill from her mouth as she rambles on and on, not bothering to pause for a breath of air. 

Hufflepuff says her name and she finally stops, staring back at him with a contorted expression as if she were trying to back tears. He cups her cheek, to which she leans into his warm touch. “Please don’t worry about that anymore, honey, it’s okay. Honestly. I’ve been with you long enough to know that there’s no one else I would rather be with but you. Even with your stubbornness, I love you all the same. Maybe even a little more.” He gives her a reassuring smile as she looks back at him with watery eyes. “Just focus on resting for now, okay?”

She nods and tries to smile back, getting a little choked up in the process. His words are laced with so much endearment that she realizes just how lucky she is to have someone like him to spend the rest of her life with. She puts her hand over his. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, “for loving me as you do.”  

His gaze is so unimaginably soft that, for a split second, Slytherin wonders how it’s even possible. He leans in, and she happily closes the distance. 

One might think that as time passes for a married couple, the love begins to stale. This is not true in their case, for the flutter in her stomach intensifies as they kiss. She can only focus on how soft he feels against her lips, how he invades all her senses in the best way possible. Her fingers grip the front of his shirt while his hand rests against the curve of her neck when they finally pull apart. Their noses brush against each other as they lock eyes. 

“I love you,” she breathes. 

“I know,” he murmurs. “And I love you.” 

“Good. Because we’re stuck with each other forever.” 

“I’d be sad if we weren’t,” he replies with a grin, retrieving the book. “Shall I continue reading?” 

She beams at him before laying her cheek against his chest. “Yes please.” 

Hufflepuff flips to the page he left off from. While he reads, he traces patterns around her stomach, as if he's painting a beautiful masterpiece over her skin. 

A couple of chapters in, Slytherin momentarily closes her eyes as his melodious voice washes over her. 

The sound of his steady heartbeat lulls her to sleep. 

FIN.

~

Check out my masterlist! | Kind comments and reblogs are most appreciated :) 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: 

Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. It took me a while to come up with an idea for this (also, to the person who requested this, I hope you are satisfied :D). My friend had the idea of “a vacation gone horribly wrong”. It was a fantastic idea - I even made a google doc for it and everything, but I did not write out a sufficient amount of general details for it because nothing solid came to mind. Then, when I was trying to go to sleep, I came up with this idea and I am very happy with how it came out!! 

I modeled Hufflepuff after Steve Rogers to some extent. He has that gentle giant type of vibe. He is kind and loving, but he’ll be stern if he needs to. I have to admit, the thought of making a series about slytherpuff married life has crossed my mind while writing this one-shot. I am still contemplating it. If I do create the series, it won’t be restricted to this couple specifically, but I will consider writing more stories about them because I really do adore their dynamic! Anyways, if I were to write that series, it would be different stories with different couples. It might not even be classified as a series but more as a collection of slytherpuff married life stories. Also, there would probably be at least one nsfw story included in that collection, but I will not be writing any smut until after my birthday, which is in April. *HI THIS IS JESSICA FROM THE NEXT DAY, aka the day that i’m gonna post this and im just going over the fic. while i was sleeping, i just thought of ANOTHER marriage fic so i think im going to make a married life collection of storiessss :D :D :D!!! however, im still wondering about whether i should write it, because the story idea is a little eh. if anyone has any other marriage life ideas, please feel free to let me know! before, i was a little hesitant on making a collection because it was hard for me to think of ideas for this fic when the request came in. hopefully, that will change in the future. also why do i keep coming up with good ideas for stories in my sleep lmao* 

Writing this story was fun. I stayed up until 2 am for four straight days while writing. Lmao how odd is it to see those two sentences right next to each other? In all honestly, I didn’t feel like it was 2 am because I was in the zone. I just kept writing until I told myself to go to bed because the future morning me will regret it--and lemme tell you, she really does. Anyways, I used my own experience with medicine for fevers. I absolutely hate the taste of NyQuil; I remember when my mom would make me drink small cups of it whenever I was sick. Also, when I was writing Sly’s rambling bit, I did not put any periods in the paragraph because I wanted to make it seem like she’s going on and on and isn’t stopping. However, I thought it to be weird and so I put the paragraph into the “translate to english” thing so that I could press the audio icon and hear what it sounds like. I’m happy to report that it was one of the funniest things I’ve ever heard in my entire life because her monotone voice saying all that was very amusing. 

There is no telling what fic I will post next. Last week, I was all over the place and working on several fics, moving from one to another when I got bored of the story. Also, my mental state is not the best at the moment. I’ve been feeling self-conscious about my writing recently, and I’m probably gonna go through another episode of that because this is gonna be the first fic that marks the end of tag lists and so this is probably gonna be an underrated fic because fewer ppl will see it. I came to realize that it’s not me who’s writing bad fics; even though I tag people, there’s a noticeable lack of interaction, so it’s likely that some of my followers just aren’t active anymore. There was a fanfic writer who I really like because their loki fics are amazing. A few weeks ago, I found their other blog that I was not aware of beforehand and they made a post 3 weeks ago saying that they would no longer be writing fics because there were barely any people interacting with them. She seemed really upset, saying stuff like “I guess my fics just aren’t good enough”, “no one can save me anymore” (I know that sounds very ominous but she was insinuating “no nice comments will make me change my mind”), and “I feel like deleting my blog because there’s a sense of failure in just leaving them there”. This made me really sad, and a part of me was afraid that one day, I would adopt a similar mindset. However, I know that there’s a group of people who will always be there to read my stories, so I’m gonna try to hold onto that idea and continue writing to make you happy and myself happy as well. Also I just realized that I always include one part in my author’s note that’s just sad for some reason :’)

ANYWAYS, I remember making a post a longgggg time ago that said “I promise that I will finish the slytherpuff series if it’s the last thing I do”. That has changed; I plan to post all the chapters leading up to their requited love at last (aka the part in which they actually get into a relationship together). After that, there’s still a bunch of chapters but they’re just fluffy bits, i.e. rainy day, they bake together, oop it’s one of their birthdays, etc. In other words, they aren’t essential to the plot. I could turn them into one-shots and stuff, but some of the chapters relate to the characters’ lives. In addition, it’s sweet to see their relationship progress. For those chapters regarding fluffy bits of their relationship, I won’t feel incentive to write them right away because their love is already requited and I also have two big series that I would rather work on. However, I’m not gonna start another series yet because I don’t wanna leave you on a cliffhanger in Chapter 3 and suddenly start writing a whole other series. The plan is to post all the chapters for the slytherpuff series leading up to the moment when they start dating (Chapter 7 or 8 will probably be when they actually get together). That way, there’s no rush to complete it because it’s just easy and sweet since they’re already in a relationship and readers aren’t anxiously waiting to see what happens next. After that, I will probably begin writing the other series, which will be different from the original slytherpuff series. You’ll see why. Once in a while, I will go back to the original series and write for that when I feel like it. 

I’m trying my best to finish writing Chapter 4 :( It is gonna be long - I’ve already written about 7 pages and I am thinking of splitting it into two parts. If I do, I might be posting part 1 soon because it’s kind of already done. Then again, I like the idea of just posting it all at once. We’ll see! I’m gonna try to work on that after this. My desire to write is sporadic, but comments and interactions from readers are very impactful in terms of my motivation to write, so be sure to leave feedback if you can! I’ll see you all again the next time I post a fic. Thanks for reading!

Tags: 

@slytherpuff-shenanigans @axieleration @sunnniiee @just--another--bean @determinedpines @zenobiagrace @asterinflower @cinnamon-roll-unicorn @mossy-axolotl @dumbbitch11 @hitchhiker-of-the-galaxy @notsowiseravenclaw  @arianatorpotterhead @eatacrackerandstop @luciferswife16 @walkinganomaly @asunshinepuff @lewispoolerpayton @adreameratdawn @thewitcheswords @oncergleekpotterhead @princessstoopid @stardustzainy @flvrqnce @multi-fandom-nutjob @eunnieah @iamahufflepuff @1hufflepuff @introvertedrae @princessstoopid @jasminedayz @magnoliamermaid @HOPEFUL-HUFFLEPUFF-PEEVES @peanut-in-the-goal @pufflehuff929 @sophiexteresa @da-fox-rangerrr @dawinehouse @shipping-book-keeper @xxavaloraxx @silverhetdanes @im-a-solanum-lycopersicum @elegantcroissantplaidpony @theoriginaljohnwatsonsblog @theoriginalsherlockholmesblog @vickeyunicorn @arianatorpotterhead @hmilkwhoney @simpering-simpleton @grandcyclecreation @sweetinvisiblewriter @marvelenthusiast10 @mvlpksvthisht @qiaopa @beardedhumanoid @jadefox05 @justanotherperson @inkedintothepaper @minty-malfoy @trippy-morgan @fangirlgeekandfreak @boilyourteeth @absentmindeduniverse @colettedelaurel @halfelven1 @happy-puff @coloring-bud @in-love-with-remus-lupin @autumnpleaves @crakencc @flyme--tothemoon @hedgepuffgirl @littleemotionalpanda @pancakes-and-sugar @korra4321 @aquietkindofthunder @qixnsriess @porksoba @thatfann @hellounicorn @i-have-a-bad-feeling @aasa2102 @zuko-28 @annie-mcl @clementines-x @writtenfoxscreams @randomwriter23 @cryingabtwandavision @coolninjavoid @urfaveslytherin @malfoys-demigod @tumlbr-trasher @violayaxley @wolfpack-arts-industries99 @zainieees-stuff @milk-leaves @priii @capt-sparrow @blueberry-9-pancakes @stressy-depressy   

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

slow dance for a special someone

Request: Dad!Henry where you’ve always had music playing in the house so whenever his newborn is awake he puts on ‘their’ song and sways with them in his arms, then he always dances with you as well because as good slow dance shares all the love words can’t describe’

Warning: Fluff

Title: slow dance for a special someone

Pairing: Henry cavill x reader, dad! Henry cavill

Masterlist | request closed momentarily

Please don't post any of my content anywhere else without my permission. Comments and reblogs welcome!

Dancing was a thing you and Henry did all the time. Even when you were pregnant Henry danced with you. It wasn't a surprise when your daughter Marlowe was born that he would dance with her. Henry woke up around 7: 30 to sounds coming from the baby monitor. He quickly sat up and looked over at you. You were fast asleep, sprawled out on the bed after you had a long night with Marlowe waking up every hour or so. Marlowe was only a few weeks old so she needed you for feeding and that was taking a huge toll on your sleep.

Henry turned off the baby monitor and got out of bed. He opened the door quietly, making sure he didn't wake you before he walked out to his princess's room. Pushing opened the door, he alerted Kal who from ever since Marlowe was born, was by her side. The bear lifted his head, but quickly settled down when he noticed it was his dad. Henry walked over to the whining baby and looked at her. She was squirming around, she was ready for her food. Henry picked her up gently and kissed her temple. "Good morning sweet girl." He rested her against his chest, cradling her head. "Let's go get you some food shall we." He walked out of the room with her, Kal following close behind. Henry entered the kitchen and sat her in the baby swing her uncles got her and then started to prepare her bottle.

"You keep mommy up all night you know." Henry started to make conversation with the Surprisingly wide awake 3 week old.“ now she’s out, cold. You did that sweetheart.” he said to her as he placed the bottle in the microwave. After he pushed a few buttons, he turned to her. She was looking at her daddy, watching him. 

Henry smiled at her before turning back to the microwave. He took the warm bottle out and placed some of the milk on the back of his arm to see if it was hot. When he noticed it wasn’t, he walked over to marlowe and picked her up gently. He brought the bottle to her lips, letting her drink up. Her little eyes fell shut as she sucked at the bottle. Henry looked down at her, she looked so peaceful which made Henry smile. She finished in 10 minutes and Henry put the bottle down on the counter and brought Marlowe back up to his chest to burp her. He patted her back gently until he heard a tiny burp escape her mouth. He chuckled softly before patting her little bottom trying to put her back to sleep.

He swayed her slightly. It started to remind him of when you both danced together. Henry decided to put on some music and slow dance with his little princess. He crossed the kitchen and turned on some slow soft music. As soon as the song started he started swaying with her. Marlowe was fast asleep on Henry's shoulders as they danced to the music.

You were just waking up when you heard the music. You walked out of the bedroom rubbing your eyes. You stopped at the end of the doorway and looked up, you saw Henry dancing along with marlowe. You smiled at the image in front of you.  Ever since she was born Henry has spent every moment with her. He wanted to hold her, change her, feed her, do absolutely everything he can for his princess. He was definitely going to spoil her, this was only the beginning.

 You cleared your throat catching Henry's attention. He turned to you and smiled softly. “hi .” he whispered. You smiled back at him and walked towards them both. “What are you two doing?” you looked at the sleeping girl on his chest. Her chubby cheeks were smushed up against Henry's chest, her tiny hand gripping his shirt tightly and a little huffed fell from her little mouth.  it was seriously the most adorable sight ever. “We’re dancing.” he kissed her little head. You ran your hand over her back, “looks like you’re both having a great time.”

 you looked at henry, taking in his beautiful features. “Yeah we are. How about i put her in her swinger and then we can dance.” he moved across the kitchen to her swinger. He sat her in it buckling her up. He turned the setting on low and it started to swing.

After Henry made sure she was tucked in, he walked over to you, opening his arm. “May i have this dance darling?” you nodded. “Yes you may Mr. cavill.”

@cristinagronk16 @pastelblogsposts @thereisa8ella @maan24 @tumblnewby @keiva1000 @henrythickcavill @desprate-and-broken

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Eye of the Storm 4

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, voyeurism, spanking

This is dark!Thor and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a new servant at the palace of Asgard but the job isn’t so easy as you thought.

Note: Things are getting intense and I hope you all enjoy it (except @lokislastlove​ who no longer wants to be included)

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Back at the palace, Thor’s silence permeated your existence. He didn’t remain in his chambers long and left you to ponder how long you would remain in his employ. It would be all the better if he let you go before things got much more muddled. But what would that mean for life in the palace. Surely, he wouldn’t let you remain there and your return to the dock was almost as much dreaded as the king himself.

You spent your day again in his chambers, picking at little chores to keep yourself busy, leaving only to eat some stale bread and thin soup with the rest of the staff. Your meals had been almost forgotten entirely for your stress in the last days. You didn’t realise until you emptied your bowl how hungry you really were. And how tired you were.

You ran into Melora on your way back up, you only saw her before your slept or as you woke. She asked after your new position and your work with the king. She prodded at you for any snippet of gossip and you could see the little gleam of envy in her eye. If only she knew.

The pit in your stomach deepened as the sky outside the window darkened and you realised the king was later than usual. Surely it couldn’t be a good sign. If he did not return at all, should you leave or doze on the sofa until he did? Perhaps it was better not to worry about sleep at such a time, but you were exhausted.

When at last the door did open, you looked up to a laughing oval face as a woman shimmied in ahead of Thor. His hand was on her ass as he closed the door. His blue eyes twinkled as they met yours momentarily and you glanced away immediately. He purred and drew himself closer to her. The blur of their figures along the border of your vision meshed together and he gave a naughty growl as she purred.

“Maid,” He snapped his fingers and you tore your eyes from the ceiling. “Fetch us some wine. Be quick about it.”

You went rigid and recited a ‘yes, my king’ before flitting away through the still open door, sure to close it behind you. You barreled down the hallway, panted wildly as you clamoured down the stairs, and down to the cellars. You hid for a moment behind the shelves of casks and bottles. Your heart hammered and you felt as if you would bawl. You had a bad feeling.

Your hand shook as you took a broad bottle of red and left the dark and cool cellar. You didn’t run back but kept your steps deliberate as you struggled to gather what was left of your wits. When you returned to the pair of doors engraved with the royal lineage, you took a breath and knocked. You heard nothing from within and didn’t bother a second time.

You entered and heard the king and his latest fancy in the bed chamber. You set the bottle on the table and went to the glass cabinet which held the dozen or so golden goblets with the royal sigil emblazoned upon them. You took two and turned back. You realised the voices had hushed and found Thor in the doorway, watching you, bare of his tunic.

“In here,” He waved his hand and disappeared into the bedchamber once more.

You frowned and took a breath. You grabbed the bottle and dragged yourself across the room and to the doorway. Inside, you were met with the sight of the king and the noblewoman at the edge of the bed. His arm was around her as he nuzzled her cheek, his other hand did not shy away from her chest and her drooping dress.

You set the cups on the small table in the corner and uncorked the bottle. You poured and retired the bottle. You braced yourself and rested your hands on the edge of the table.

“Bring them to us,” Thor demanded, barely pulling away from his lover. “She is new.”

You brought the cups to them and offered them up as you kept your eyes averted. Thor took his and the woman hesitated. You could feel her looking you up and down. Disapproval, amusement, spite, whatever it was, it made you want hide away.

“You haven’t any white?” She asked.

“Wine is wine,” Thor handed you his empty cup. “Do not drink it if it is not to your liking.”

“No, no, thank you,” She accepted the goblet and took a sip before handing it back. She turned to Thor and touched his cheek as she kissed him. “I don’t need much,” She slithered as she slung her leg over his. “Send the maid away and you will see.”

“She will stay,” He shrugged and peeked over at you, “It is her job to see to my needs. You will hardly notice her.” He nodded to the wall before returning his attention to the woman.

“Surely, you cannot--”

“Or you may go.” He pulled her hand from his cheek. “She is but a servant. Do you not have a servant to dress you? To bathe you? They are… nothing.”

You backed away and went to the wall. Despite your acceptance that you were at the bottom of the Asgardian ladder, his words hurt. You set down the cups and stood far from the bed. You kept your head down as a lull took over the chamber. A tension hung in the air between all of you; confusion, resent, anger.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter,” The noblewoman said softly but you could hear the reluctance in her tone. “Not much.”

“Mmm, see,” Thor hummed and you heard their bodies fall back against the mattress. 

You wouldn’t, couldn’t, look anywhere but at the stone floor. You heard their mouths as they kissed, the rustle of their clothes as they shed them. The shadows of their movement edged just along your vision and you squeezed your hands together as you tried not to think of what was happening just across from you. Your eyes burned and the moans made you uneasy.

Soon the sounds of kissing were replaced by worse noises. Flesh on flesh, the steady clap of fucking, the animalistic growls of the king and the weakening groans of his lover. You bit into your lip as you thought you might vomit. You looked only once from the floor, a peek towards the door as you longed to run.

You were by no means innocent. Peasants hadn’t the same standards as the rich. Sure, commoners didn’t fuck in the streets as the nobles would like to think, but they also didn’t shy away from the topic; especially the fishermen. It was why you always kept you head down near the docks otherwise you’d hear the naughty words the sailors called to anything with a skirt.

Thor’s voice deepened in a sudden peak and the woman gave a gentle gasp as the bed stilled. You were holding your breath as you heard the subtle shift and then the planting of a foot on the floor. You cowered as the figure neared you and closed your eyes as Thor stopped before you. He poured himself a cup of wine and swigged it sloppily before slamming it back down.

You felt him looming over you and he grabbed your chin. He wrenched your head up and you smelled his wine-laced breath as he leaned down. His grip was frighteningly strong.

“Open your eyes,” He sneered. Your eyes snapped open fearfully. His blue eyes were stormy as he glared down at you. “Good. I expect you to be aware and ready to tend to my every need so you will watch me. Otherwise, your neglect shall be met with a fitting punishment. Understood?”

“Thor?” The woman called from the bed softly.

“Quiet,” He barked over his shoulder and kept his eyes on you. “Do not look away. Do you understand me…” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “...sweet maid?”

“I do, my king,” You quavered as a shiver rolled up your spine.

“Good,” He released you roughly and turned away from you. His broad shoulders were tense as he climbed back on the bed and caught the woman by her neck as she sat up. “You.” He snarled at her, “Bend over.”

His hand slipped around to the back of her neck and he turned her away from him. She fell forward as he shoved her and barely caught herself on her elbows. She cried out and tried to wriggle away from him. 

“Thor!” She exclaimed and he slapped her ass as he grabbed her hip.

“I am your king,” He hissed. “You will address me properly.”

He spanked her again and she whimpered. The pain contorted her elegant features as her hands balled up the blanket beneath her. He hit her again and it reverberated around the room.

“Your majesty,” She forced out through gritted teeth. “Ow, you’re hurting me.”

“You said you wanted me,” He dragged his hand along her ass and grabbed the base of his cock. “Don’t you want me?”

“Yes, your majesty, but--” She choked on her words as he lined himself up and impaled her in a single motion. Her body threatened to collapse at his sheer strength.

Your eyes rounded as your lips parted in shock. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You wanted desperately to look away but you feared what should happen if you did; to yourself, to her. You were sick to think he was hurting her; to think that you might be the reason for it.

He pulled back and thrust into her even harder. His eyes met yours and clung to them as he rutted into her. You blinked and for a moment, then you were looking at her. She was ashamed but fought against it. Her face was taut as she tried to hold back her pained groans.

Thor grabbed the back of her head and forced it down against the mattress. You raised your eyes again and he stared at you as his hips bucked faster and faster. He bared his teeth as his grunts grew louder with each rock. Your gaze only seemed to encourage him as his own never wavered.

You were dizzy; confused. You felt breathless, as if you would pass out. Your own humiliation was undercut by another heat; this one baser, this one worse. You should feel this way at all. Your core should not have burned so hotly and yet you could not deny that you felt more than fear, more than shame.

His hands brushed down her back to her shoulders. He pinned her down and her legs fell straight as he straddled her. The bed rocked with him as he pounded into her, his unrestrained strength rang through the chamber with each thrust. Soon the woman’s groans were sobs, hardly muffled by the blanket as she sank deeper and deeper beneath the king.

His heady breaths made your skin tingle and his eyes seemed to spark as he jerked into her sharply. He let out a roar as he came and spread his hand between her shoulders as he held her down. She beat on the mattress until he was finished. He leaned back on his heels and sighed. He tossed his hair back over his shoulders as he wiped his sweaty hands on his thighs.

He climbed off of her and fell back on his ass with a satisfied hum. She was quick to recoil and draw herself up as she looked between her legs and wiped away his seed. She glared at him and huffed.

“You came in me?” She said. 

“Go,” He snarled. “Now. And don’t ever speak to me that way again.”

“Your majesty, you--”

“Go before I toss you out in the corridor, naked,” He threatened. “I should let the kingdom see your guilt; see my seed leaking from your whore cunt.”

She reeled back and stared at him. He fell back and bent his arms behind his head, his cock still erect. For a moment, your eyes wandered along his figure. The fear curdled in your stomach as the thick muscles that corded almost every inch of his shone with sweat. You could see his power so clearly and it was terrifying.

“I won’t tell you again,” He said.

The woman hid her face as she climbed off the bed and bent to gather her gown. She pulled it on haphazardly, the left strap drooping over her shoulders as she grabbed her slippers. You could tell she made a point not to acknowledge you as she did. She gave one last mortified glance at Thor before she fled.

You trembled, barely able to keep yourself from slumping against the wall. Your legs were jelly and you struggled not to follow the noblewoman. What would he do now that you were alone?

“Wine,” Thor demanded.

You flinched but filled his goblet. You brought it to him and he reached for it from you without rising. He only lifted his head to sip before leaning its base against his chest.

“I am a mess. Clean me.” He said evenly.

“My king,” Your voice betrayed you and crackled in the air.

You went to the bath chamber and took a basin and a cloth. You filled the stone bowl with water and carried it back through to the bedchamber. Thor still had not moved. As you approached, he held out his empty cup. You cradled the basin in one arm and took it. You set it aside with the bowl and dipped the cloth in the water.

You wrung out the excess and hesitated before you stepped closer to the bed. You would not be able to reach him. You lifted a leg onto the mattress and then the other. You moved closer and your hand shook with the cloth. You hovered above his softening member and his hand pushed yours down until only the wet fabric separated your flesh.

“It is late. Don’t tarry.” He growled.

You gulped and began to wipe away the slick remnants of his perversion. His seed had his flesh shiny and sticky. You cleaned him carefully, afraid to touch him too firmly. As you did, he began to harden. Once more erect, you drew away and rinsed out the cloth, trying to ignore his arousal.

“You are not done,” He said. 

You nodded and turned back to him and dabbed again at his flesh. He let out low breath as you did and his cock twitched every time you touched it. You made sure you had gotten every bit of sweat and bodily excess and dropped the cloth in the basin. He grabbed you wrist and drew you back to him before you could get off the bed.

You fought, only a little, and he gripped the back of your neck until you were forced to face. He pulled you close so that you bent over him, his nose only inches from yours as he peered up into your eyes. He smirked and you shuddered.

“Did you like it?” He asked.

Your lips quivered but you could not speak. He chuckled and pulled you even closer. His breath was warm along your lips.

“Tell me you liked it.” He said.

You could not pull away, he was too strong, you could only sputter cluelessly back at him. You reached back and touched his hand, terrified. His hand slipped around to your throat and he squeezed, his lips almost touching yours. He laughed again and shoved you away gruffly.

“You said it yourself,” He scowled. “You’re just a servant and I am a king.”

You nodded and quickly pushed yourself off the bed. You grabbed the basin and scurried away from the bed. Your feet were heavy as you crossed the chamber and you paused at the door of the bath chamber as you heard a grown. 

You turned and looked back at Thor. His hand was on his cock as he stroked himself, his eyes were squeezed shut, and his legs bent as he stirred his pleasure at his fingertips. You gaped at him as he brazenly played with himself and his head fell to the side. He opened his eyes and saw you. He winked and bit his tongue as he began to pant.

You spun back to the doorway but were stopped once more.

“Not so fast,” He slithered. “You will-- have another-- mess to clean-- soon enough.”

[oikawaplssteponme]

PREVIOUSLY • MASTERLIST

pairing: (prince) Sawamura Daichi x (princess) fem! reader

warnings: none

word count: 1.6k words

synopsis: A childhood lover, a perfect picture, a thoughtful risk, a dashing spark, a resurfaced fling, a beautiful mystery, and an unlikely charmer. With so many flowers in the garden, which do you pick?

a/n: hello loves! i hope you all are doing well :)) reminder that the taglist is still open, just send an ask or leave a comment to be added <3 id love to hear your thoughts and please reblog!! tags have been weird lately so id really appreciate the reblogs :) !

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ: ☾

Nervous

“Good morning Your Grace! Rise and shine!” Anita came bursting into your room. She opened up your bedroom curtains, revealing the burning sunshine. You grabbed one of your pillows and buried your head under it.

“Oh gosh what time is it…” you groaned.

“Time to start getting ready. I’ll have your breakfast brought in momentarily.” Anita left your room just as quickly as she entered it. You removed the pillow from your head and sat up.

“Oh good you’re up.” Your mother, the queen, entered your room, followed by Anita and your breakfast tray.

“Thank you.”

“Eat up sweetheart. You’ll need your energy for today!” said your mother.

“Why must the ball be so late today?” You asked, “and why have you woken me up so early…”

“It’s the Midnight Ball Y/N! It’s tradition whenever the kingdom of Karasuno comes to visit,” she explained. You nodded.

The Prince of Karasuno would be next on your agenda. You had heard nothing but nice things about him. He was known to be responsible, kind, level headed, everything a future king would need to be.

“Your gown for tonight is getting finished up at the tailor’s. I’ll be picking it up in about an hour or so,” explained Anita.

“I’ll join you,” you said as you took a sip from your tea. Your mother shook her head.

“You have much to prepare for here, darling. Anita can take care of it herself.”

“I’ll only be gone for an hour or two. I promise I’ll be back in time,” you insisted.

“Very well… I’ll make sure your ride is prepared.” Your mother patted the top of your head before leaving your room. You looked at Anita, sighing.

“I suppose this is how things will be for a while. A ball every week, a new dress to try on, and someone new to see.”

“You’ll certainly never be bored, Your Highness. I’ll set out your garments for this morning’s trip and meet you outside.” Anita flashed you a bright smile before heading over to your closet, picking out a simple, light pink dress. She laid it on the chair of your vanity before leaving.

You finished your breakfast and got yourself ready then went to meet Anita outside.

“Ready to go, Your Majesty?” she asked. You smiled.

“Anita you know you can call me Y/N, and yes.”

The ride into town was smooth. It was an exceptionally beautiful day, birds chirping, the sun shining. You waved to whoever you saw as people eagerly noticed your arrival.

You arrived at the tailors right on time. It was a dainty shop, filled with endless piles of fabric and designs to fuel anyone's imagination.

“Good morning Your Royal Highness! Here to pick up your gown for tonight’s ball?” asked Mari, the shop owner.

“The Princess is also in need of one final fitting before we can take the gown back to the castle with us,” explained Anita. Mari nodded.

“Yes yes of course! Right this way my darling!”

She led you and Anita to where the mannequin stood, wearing the dress.

“Wow…”

It was an extravagant gown, black as the midnight sky. The sunlight peeking in from the windows bounced off of the small crystals, making it sparkle. It lastly had a matching cape, since the ball would take place at night.

“Mari you never disappoint, it is truly gorgeous,” you said.

“Oh thank you Princess. Here, let's get you laced up.”

The dress fit you perfectly as expected. It’s sweetheart neckline and floral detail looked stunning on you. Mari packaged up your dress as you waited with Anita.

“We actually have one last stop before we can head back,” she explained.

“Where?” you asked. Anita smiled.

“It seems that your prince has a gift for you.”

You and Anita walked along the streets of town until reaching the flower shop. You breathed in the scents of gardenias and lilies.

“Pick up for Y/N L/N,” explained Anita to the front desk attendant. They scurried off to the back cooler and brought out the biggest arrangement of flowers you had ever seen.

“Oh wow…”

It was a mix of orange and black roses, with a small card peaking out.

‘Until tonight Princess… -D.S.’

“D.S.?” you questioned. Anita chuckled.

“It’s from Prince Sawamura Daichi, Your Majesty.”

“He certainly knows how to make a girl smile,” you whispered.

“He’s perfect…” gushed Anita. You chuckled.

“We’ll see about that…”

~

As the day drew on, you found yourself back at home. You were finally getting ready for the ball, that started in just a few hours. You showered and wrapped yourself up in your silk robe. You walked into your room, where Anita was laying out your dress.

“Anita what do you know about Sawamura Daichi?” you asked. She chuckled nervously.

“Well I don’t know too much...but I know that he is a great leader with a kind heart. He puts others before himself and is devoted to helping others. Anyone would be lucky to have a heart like his.”

“It seems like you know more than you think,” you teased. Anita shook her head.

“Oh my apologies. Here, let's get you laced up.”

Anita cinched you up into your gown. She did your makeup and clipped on your cape.

“Stunning as always,” she smiled.

“Thank you. Shall we go?”

The garden was marvelously decorated with lights and lanterns. There was a grand fountain in the middle of it all, the floor a checkered pattern . The full moon shined above you, making the moonlight bounce off of your gown. You greeted people as they approached you, keeping one eye out for the Prince.

“Excuse me, You Grace?”

You turned around to see a man smiling at you with grey hair.

“Yes?”

“Princess Y/N L/N, I am pleased to introduce you to the marvelous, chivalrous, most handsome-”

“That’s enough Sugawara…”

“Oh right...Prince Sawamura Daichi, Your Majesty.” He moved out of the way, allowing the prince to step forward.

“My apologies, he tends to get carried away,” smiled Daichi. You chuckled.

“I actually liked your introduction,” you teased.

“I’m glad. Would you care to dance?” Sawamura pointed to the dance floor. You nodded.

“I would love to.”

You took his hand and he guided you to the floor, He bowed before you, then placed his hand onto your waist and held up your other hand.

“Thank you for the flowers,” you said. Daichi smiled.

“I’m glad they found you well. I wasn’t sure which flowers were your favorite so I decided to play it safe with roses.”

“I do love roses.”

“Do you have a favorite flower?”

“Not particularly. I love the assortment bouquets, that way I get a little of everything,” you explained.

“I see.”

Daichi spun you around the floor, keeping you close to you. His eyes almost as dark as the midnight sky, you could’ve fallen into them. As your hand rested on his bicep, you could tell just how strong he was. His strong build but gentle smile warmed your heart.

You watched as what looked to be a sweat droplet glided down the side of his forehead. You chuckled.

“Are you nervous?” you asked. Sawamura tilted his head.

“Nervous? What makes you say that?”

“It looks like you’re sweating.”

Daichi patted his forehead with the back of his hand. He smiled.

“That’s not sweat princess, that’s rain.”

The two of you looked up at the sky, seeing the clouds rolling over you. You closed your eyes, starting to feel the soft water trickle down upon you.

“Everyone inside!” shouted the king. People began to rush over to the doors, hiding under the walkway.

“Y/N, darling, you’re gonna get sick!” insisted your mother. As you soon became drenched by the rain, you looked to Daichi, who held onto your hand.

“I have a dance to finish,” you smiled. Daichi grinned, placing his hand back onto your waist and once again, guided you along the dance floor.

It was just the two of you, dazzling under the stormy moonlight. As lightning struck and thunder boomed, you kept your eyes on Sawamura. How he made you laugh, calling you reckless for proposing this idea. Even as the floor became even more slippery, you and Daichi didn’t stop. Soon, the orchestra came back, playing for you. Drums sounding along with the sound of thunder, causing goosebumps on your skin.

The two of you caught your breath, panting as water droplets dripped down your lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping you balanced. Without realizing it, yours and Sawamura’s foreheads were pressed against each other. Daichi locked eyes with you, placing his hand under your chin.

“I think it’s safe to say that you took my breath away.”

~

The two of you went inside the palace a short time later. Anita brought you both towels to dry yourselves off.

You now sat with the prince on the grand staircase. The two of you talked about all kinds of things. He told you about Karasuno, you told him about what there was to do around your kingdom. He listened happily to every word you had to say.

“You’ll have to show me around soon, I didn’t get to explore much today,” he said. You nodded.

“I would love to do that.”

“Excuse me, Your Highness, we must be going.”

You looked over to the man who entered with the prince earlier. You sighed, almost wishing he didn't have to leave.

“Very well, just one moment please.”

Daichi stood up from the steps. He helped you up as well.

“It was such a pleasure meeting you Y/N. I wish we didn’t have to part so soon,” he smiled.

“As do I. I hope you have safe travels, and the next time you’re here I will happily show you around.” Daichi smiled.

“I would love that.”

He carefully took your hand, kissing the top of it. He took his soaked suit jack and draped it over his shoulder before joining Sugawara. You sighed.

“He really is perfect.”

•

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[lauralestrange7]

𝓐𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓶 | 𝓢𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓾𝓼 𝓑𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴| (Part 6)

The motto of the Lestrange family is "𝓒𝓸𝓻𝓿𝓾𝓼 𝓸𝓬𝓾𝓵𝓾𝓶 𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓿𝓲 𝓷𝓸𝓷 𝓮𝓻𝓾𝓲𝓽" which would when literally translated in English would mean "a crow will not pull out the eye of another crow." Referring to the complete solidarity amongst a group of like-minded people regardless of the consequences or condemnation.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9 

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

After getting dressed Laura headed out through the nearly empty corridor, the insides of the Great Hall mostly consisted of first and second years. She sat down on her regular seat on the Slytherin table, serving herself some breakfast before taking a book out. After a while, as Laura was having her breakfast whilst reading, Regulus sat down beside her. She realized his presence alright but didn't acknowledge it, so Regulus cleared his throat in an attempt to break the uncomfortable silence.

 "I had to work on a few assignments I had quite a lot left to do as I hadn't been able to get much done during the week. I was in the library and I lost track of time" he said as Laura flipped onto the next page of whatever book she was reading and with only an "Oh". Regulus looked down after his fail attempt and then said "Will you let me make it up to you though? I know I haven't been around much" he said again his eyes looking at Laura pleadingly. The girl looked at him from her book noticing her best friend's face was a mix of guilt and hope "What do you mean?" she asked trying not to sound too eager. "Oh well we can go to Hogsmeade and I will get you anything you want from Honeydukes even if it costs me all my saved allowance from the last eight years," he said Laura couldn't help but smile at her best friend's words after all he was just a fourteen year old trying to live up to his family's impossible expectations. "Please?" he asked again and Laura closed her book "Fine," she said and trying her best not to smile seeing the latter's face light up "Great!" he said and stood up as he started rushing away and then jogged back to where she was sitting "I'll meet you in twenty minutes then?" he said "Fifteen minutes and outside the corridor, you don't have to dress up for me princess" Laura teased. Regulus rolled his eyes as he walked out of the great hall. Laura finished her breakfast smiling and then she went to her dorm and put on a varsity jacket and headed outside. As she walked towards the corridor she saw Regulus waiting anxiously wearing a pair of dress pants a white shirt under a green sweater. Laura walked towards him smiling as she gently tapped his shoulder "Shall we?" she said as Regulus looked back at her and nodded smiling.

Laura eagerly looked around, Hogsmeade sure looked different than it did three years ago. Regulus on the other hand used to go to Hogsmeade every once in a while, so he seemed to know his way around as he escorted her to Honeydukes. Laura stared at the brightly colored store it smelled like sweets and candies and taffies. When they walked in Laura could swear there had to be over a thousand different kinds of treats. "So what do you want?" Regulus asked smirking quite proud of himself, Laura looked at him then at the various ranges of sweets to choose from. After a lot of thinking, she decided to just go with a good ol' chocolate bar, "I'll take a chocolate bar" Laura told her best friend who was busy rummaging through a shelf of chocolate frogs. Regulus' head whipped around as a hand clapped on his shoulder "Hey brother, fancy seeing you here" Sirius Black beamed at the latter. His friends were busy looting the store, Regulus shrugged his brothers hand off with a stern look on his face. The smile was wiped away from Sirius' face, but only momentarily as he continued, his sly smile was visible once again "Oh, looks like you have a date" he said gesturing his head towards Laura who had her hands crossed as she rolled her eyes. "Not a date," Regulus said through gritted teeth as he quickly paid for Laura's chocolate bar and looked at her motioning towards the door. She sighed as she opened the door and walked out Regulus walked out too. "Sorry about that," he mumbled looking at his feet as he continued to walk away from the stores. Laura shook her head "Nothing for you to be sorry about" she said, Regulus, however, continued to look down. In an effort to cheer him up Laura said "How about we get some butterbeer?" Regulus looked at her "Oh okay" he said now changing his direction and starting to walk towards The Three Broomsticks. Seeing that the suggestion didn't cheer him up as Regulus continued to look down and sulk, Laura groaned "Good Salazar, would you just smile" she said nudging him with her shoulder. Regulus rolled his eyes then flashed a cheeky grin "There, happy?" he asked "Very," Laura said laughing as they both walked inside the store. Which was very packed but they managed to get an empty table towards the back. Regulus ordered two butterbeers then sat down, Laura wanted to talk to him about his brother but she knew it was something he was not very comfortable talking about. So she just fidgeted with her fingers, Regulus was silent too there was some tension building up. "Reg?" asked Laura as the latter hummed in response, his eyes fixated outside the window. Laura looked out too, and what a beautiful scene it was; golden, red and orange leaves scattered around the ground, happy faces could be spotted all over the place smiling carelessly. Laura sighed looking at Regulus, who was too focused on the outside to notice, she remembered clearly how they had first met.

Want to read it on Wattpad? No problem here you go

All the characters (except Laura Lestrange) and places mentioned in this story belong to J K Rowling. So I’ve posted a few chapters of this stories on Wattpad, but I’ve got a lot of it already written down, I’ll try to post any new chapters on Tumblr as soon as I can. Please reblog, it would be very appreciated and my requests are open.