#why is he the one to comfort her first after her father lost his memories and tried to kill her?

[sophie-looks-at-stuff]

As You Wish

Pairing: Aemond x wife reader

Summary: Aemond's new wife has a moment of reflection wondering if her new husband truly cares for her. Aemond is determined to prove to her that he is utterly devoted to her.

Warnings: smut, some slight angst? maybe idk honestly haha, Aemond loves his wife he just has issues expressing it lol, p in v, oral (f receiving) man is a champ when it comes to that, praise, 18+, vulgar language lol, slight breeding kink

AN: hey y'all! long time no see haha, I finally watched the season 2 hotd premiere last night and had to finally write something! this is my first go at a legit fic and not just headcanons so don't be too judgy haha. but I hope y'all enjoy it! :)

PS: it is unedited rn, but I was just too excited to post it, so I'll edit it later!

The rose-scented bubbles of the bath water lapped soothingly against your flesh. This had become your routine, after the evening's supper or feast you would call to your handmaid to draw a bath. Scalding hot water, warm enough to turn your skin pink upon contact. The boiling water and the familiar scent of the roses were one of the few things that brought you comfort after your marriage to Prince Aemond. Your family had come seasonally to court for many moons now, your mother being a friend of Queen Alicent. As your brothers sparred with the young princes in the training grounds, you took more kindly towards the gardens. Wandering around the maze of flowers and bushes searching for faeries and nymphs. Of course, you had been only a child then and had not yet known that such silly things don’t exist. 

It had been the Prince himself that informed you of such. You had been crouched on your knees before a bed of yellow roses, looking between the stems and leaves for the little creatures. The skirts of your dress soiled and stained brown from the earth beneath you. You had been so preoccupied with searching for them, that you hadn’t heard the crunching of grass and footsteps behind you.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?” Aemond had asked you, voice bitter but curious. You stood up hastily, nearly tripping on your own two feet as you spun around and curtsied clumsily. 

“I am searching for faeries my Prince. Mother said that they can be found amongst the stems of the most beautiful flowers!” Your small hands began to nervously dust themselves off on your already dirty skirts. Aemond’s eye followed the motion, his upper lip curling in disgust. It had only been a couple of moons since the young prince had lost his eye. The scar was still fresh and red around the edges, the eyepatch clearly bothering him. For it appeared to be fastened too tight around his head. 

“Don’t be absurd, such pathetic things don’t exist. All you’ve succeeded in doing is soiling your clothes.” He motions down towards your skirts, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. Feeling ashamed to be talked down upon by someone you hoped to be a potential friend. Even though his eye, or lack thereof, scared most, you had found it intriguing. Your father had told you stories of men in faraway places who wore their scars like badges of honor, like trophies of war. The marred skin being a testament to their victories in battle. Your father however did not return to tell the tails of his own scars, for he had passed in the Stepstones, aiding Lord Corlys and Prince Daemon in their war. 

“My apologies my Prince, for I-” you dared a look up into face, his brows knit together, arms crossed over his chest. You lowered your eyes in shame once more “I shall go change my skirts at once.” And with that you darted off, not waiting for a response from the young Targaryen. 

That had been many years ago though, and you were no longer a child, and nor was he. Prince Aemond had grown into a handsome man, not just physically, but intellectually as well. The water of your bath had grown tepid as you recalled the memory, a slight frown adorning your features. Why had he wanted to marry you? He hardly had shown any interest, more likely it was because his mother and grandfather craved the military prowess your family possessed. They needed it for the impending war. So a proposal for your hand had been made, and your eldest brother eagerly accepted. After your father’s passing, and your mother grew older in age he had taken it upon himself to attend to the coming and goings of your house. 

It wasn’t that Aemond was exactly an unkind husband, he just wasn’t present, ever. There was always a reason or excuse for him to leave a room once you arrived. The only full night you had spent with him had been your wedding night, in your marital bed. He wasn’t rough, nor was he gentle, but he possessed an air of duty and responsibility when it came to the consummation. For once he spilled his spend inside of you he had fetched a cloth for you to clean yourself. Then turned his back to you and slept, not uttering another word. 

The sound of your chamber doors creaking open drew you from your thoughts. The clanking of a sword and heavy footsteps made their way towards you in the bathing room. You were met with the sight of your rather disheveled lord husband. Before you could offer him a greeting, however, his eye lifted to your face, and he asked: 

“May I join you?” Taken aback slightly by the question there was a pause, the room silent. Then, you nodded, “Yes, yes of course you may husband.” 

Aemond had waited for your approval before stripping himself bare of his clothes, riding clothes by the looks of it. He must have been out on Vhagar. You observe him as he untethered his belts and the laces of his boots. The years of training had done him well, his arms and back muscles lean and corded. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to drag your nails down them, as he fucked into you–

“Wife? Did you hear me?” Shit, he must have asked you something, looking up from the muscles of his arms to meet his eyes you shook your head. He chuckled a bit, smirking, you had been caught in your staring.

“I asked you, how was your day my lady wife.” A hint of amusement laced his voice, he had rid himself of his clothes, having placed them neatly over the back of one of the armchairs in the rooms. 

“Oh, well, it was alright. Nothing too exciting I'm afraid. I did have tea with your mother and sister though. That was quite pleasant, Helaena was telling me of the butterflies that come for the roses this time of year. She said we must go see them once they arrive.” As you spoke Aemond made his way around the tub, to behind you. It took an embarrassingly great deal of effort not to stare as he had presented himself bare before you. To look only above his waist and not let your eyes drift down towards his cock. 

“Mmh, yes we must see them then,” his cold hands met your shoulder blades, rubbing small, soothing, circles on them. This was his way of telling you to move forward, so that he may join you in the tub, taking his place behind you, and pulling you onto his lap. 

“You take such tepid baths wife. You’ll catch a cold one of these days.” He mumbled into your ear as he made himself comfortable behind you, his legs outstretched beside your own. It wasn’t that such small talk was uncommon between the two of you when he was around. Besides, you two did share chambers, so despite his avoidance during the day, he was bound to return to you at night. 

Turning fully to face him now, with a surge of annoyance, the water sloshing around the two of you with your sudden movements. “Why do you care? You are hardly even here to see me as is, I doubt you would even notice.” Aemond’s singular lilac eye widens, not from anger, but rather from surprise. His lady wife was always so sweet, so silent, this was new, and dare he say exciting. 

“A woman can only take so much you know–” You go to stand, to leave the tub, and go to bed, done with whatever this conversation is. Aemond’s hand shoots out to grasp your wrist, stopping you from doing so. 

“Wait!” It came out more harsh than he had intended. “I do care for you my lady, truly I do. I did not know that you–”

“Prove it.” You say interrupting whatever he is about to tell you. You keep your eyes level and voice steady. “Prove it to me then husband,”

Aemond says only one thing before attacking your lips, “As you wish,” He is not gentle in his kisses, he does not know how to be gentle. Perhaps you could teach him. His grasp on your wrist moves to your waist as he continues his assault on your lips. His hands roam the flesh of your waist, your hips, your thighs, his lips move down towards your neck. Biting and nipping at the flesh there, sure to leave a mark for all to see.

“Aemond–” 

“Shhh, let me take care of you tonight. Let me prove to you how much I desire you, my love.” He murmurs between bites and kisses. He pulls back, only for a moment, “You are beautiful, I am sorry I have not told you this enough,” his lips attach themselves to one of your breasts, suckling at the nipple. You let out a surprised breath as he bites down, a wave of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

His roaming hands have found purchase on your ass, his deft fingers kneading the plump flesh. Suddenly his grip becomes tighter as he rises from the tub with you in his arms, water spilling over the sides and onto the floor. You hurriedly wrap your arms around his neck, in an attempt to steady yourself. 

“Aemond! You’ve made a mess–” He laughs, fully this time, not just a chuckle. It’s a lovely sound you think.

 “Fuck the mess, the maids shall deal with it in the morning. I’ve neglected my dear lady wife and that must be rectified immediately. One of the hands on your ass pulls back and gives it a small slap. You gasp in surprise, tucking your face into his neck, peppering small kisses there, just as he had done to you moments before. You could get used to this side of your husband. Aemond lets out a hum of satisfaction at your ministrations, soon after playfully throwing you down onto your shared bed. 

“Aemond the sheets, they’re soaked now–” you began to protest cut off rather abruptly by his grip on your ankles. Pulling you down towards the end of the mattress, your cunt now level with his lips. 

“That should hardly matter, we have others–” he places a kiss on your inner thigh. “Besides the only thing I care to see soaked is your cunt after I am done–” Without another word or hesitation, Aemond licks a hot stripe up the center of your core. Then a second, and a third, until he loses all control. He devours you like a man starved. His strong arms wrap themselves around your things, pulling you impossibly closer to him. His tongue continues its assault on your cunt.

“You taste of the finest ambrosia–” the vibrations of his voice sending shock waves of electricity to your clit. Aemond is only spurred on further by the sound of your sweet moans. His name falling from your lips like a chant, like a prayer to the Seven. His lips find purchase on your clit, sucking and licking till you're writhing beneath him. Your hands shoot down, finding purchase in his long silver locks.

“Aemond, oh Aemond–” the words spill from your lips like nonsense. The only thing you are able to focus on is his lips and tongue lapping at your cunt. The man between your thighs devouring you like this is his last meal alive.

“Cum for me, cum on my tongue. And then I shall reward you with my cock. Cum for me my love–” As if on command, you feel the muscles of your lower abdomen contract, and then all that lovely pleasure overflows, and bursts from you. With a strangled cry of his name, you cum on his tongue. You look down at your husband between your thighs, his lips glistening in your release. 

“Good girl, my good, sweet, perfect girl. You did exactly what I asked,” he crawls up your body, stopping only to place the occasional kiss to your hot skin. His lips return to your neck, sucking love marks into the skin over the faint ones he had left before. A newfound favorite of his perhaps. He gives his cock a few strokes, his thumb collecting the beading drop of arousal from his tip. Wordlessly, he brings the digit up to your lips, pressing down gently on your bottom one. You open your mouth, sucking the essence from his finger, swirling your tongue around it, eager to please him. He groans in response, resting his forehead on yours, 

“Perhaps another night my love, I need to be inside of you now.” You release his thumb with a slight pop. 

“Fuck me then, husband–” Not needing any further encouragement, Aemond sheathes his cock inside of your cunt. The warm, velvety walls squeezing him perfectly. “Fuck–” he moans breathlessly as he slowly begins to thrust into your weeping cunt. The squelching noises from his movements turn your cheeks red, you move to hide your face in the crook of his neck once more, but a hand on your chin stops you. From above, Aemond’s lilac eye bores into your own, like a spell, you are unable to look away.

Aemond’s thrusting becomes faster, harder, like a man starved. The grasp on your chin returns to your hips. As Aemond rolls back slightly, sitting on his knees, he brings your hips to meet his, your back still on the bed. From this angle he has full control over your body, not that he hadn’t before. But now he could control his thrusts, making them sharper, harder. Beneath him, your eyes screw shut in pleasure, consumed by his ministrations. 

You look beautiful like this, he thinks. Cheeks red, hair a mess, sweat glistening on your skin. He had been a fool before, not indulging you more often. Not being by your side, it was a mistake he would make no more. He had been too afraid of your rejection, too afraid you would find him repulsive because of his scar. The scar that he himself found so disturbing. But clearly, the way his name fell from your lips, as your face contorted in pleasure, this was not the case. 

“Shall I cum inside of your perfect cunt? Shall I plant my seed, and watch you grow and swell with my child?” He barely recognized the words coming from his lips, too lost in carnal desire to notice. 

“Yes, yes Aemond, yes–” the words leaving your lips like a hymn, a prayer to your lord husband. Aemond’s fingers began to circle your bud as he continued to rut into you. 

“Together then, I can feel you little wife–” As if he possessed some kind of magic, you did as commanded. Aemond’s release coating your walls, both of you warm and well sated. Once more he leans down, leaving a small peck on your lips before resting his forehead on yours. 

“I have been a fool, a complete and utter fool. I am not a great man in many ways my sweet lady wife. But for you perhaps I could be,” He places another kiss on your lips. 

“I would like that very much Aemond,” you smile a bit as you say this because it is true and it would be unfair to not allow him to prove as much. After all, that is what you asked of him is it not? Without pulling out or away from you, Aemond rolls to his side, tucking you into him, desperate to keep you in his arms. 

“Stay like this with me tonight, please?” He asks, afraid you’ll send him away. 

“Tonight and every night if you behave,” you give him a slight pinch to add emphasis to your comment. You feel his chest vibrate against your cheek with laughter. 

“As you wish,” he says one final time, as the two of you drift off to sleep, held safely in the arms of one another.

[angel5ofp0rn]

♡ part ten ♡

ExHusband!Price x f!reader

@rosiesghost we were totally on the same page with John and Nadia 🤭

“So, why did the two of you split up? John found someone younger?”

You nearly choke on your water, caught off guard by Nadia’s bluntness.

“Just teasing.” Nadia chuckles softly, taking another sip of her wine. “Younger than you? He’d ‘ave to rob a cradle.”

From the patio, the two of you watched John and the three children kick a football around in the backyard.

Your youngest struggled to keep up due to her age and size. John was quick to help by lifting her from under her armpits, helping her get a good kick in.

“Actually, it was you," you confess, a slight blush creeping up your cheeks. Nadia looks at you curiously.

"He wouldn't tell me where he was going when he would come here to visit you and Theo. I thought he was cheating."

Nadia almost frowns a bit, looking back to John and the kids. “And now that you know the truth?”

You sigh softly. “I don’t know… I still can’t move past you. I can’t stop thinking about John cheating on you, and abandoning you and Theo.”

“I told him to leave.”

“You… what?”

Nadia sets her wine glass down on the table between the two of you. “John and I… We weren’t in love, you see.” She starts carefully. “We just had a drunken one night stand, and I fell pregnant with Theo… John proposed just to do the right thing, but it wasn’t what either one of us wanted.”

You sit quietly, absorbing her words. The revelation leaves you stunned. You had no idea...

"We were unhappy for a long time," Nadia continues, her gaze distant as if reliving those moments. "We talked about seeing other people for a while, but John said he couldn't bring himself to do it. Even though there were no feelings between us, he couldn't date around while married. And then he met you."

Nadia smiles to herself as she explains the situation to you. You glance over at John, memories of your first meeting flooding back. John kept insisting that he wasn’t right for you, that you should just forget about him.

Now it makes sense.

Unaware of your eyes on him, John uses the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. You get a glimpse of his toned, hairy abdomen and that hint of a v-line that still lingers despite him getting softer with age.

“Can’t deny that he’s sexy, though.” Nadia murmurs, a low whistle escaping her lips.

You chuckle and nod in agreement.

The conversation lulls for a moment, both of you lost in your thoughts. The children’s laughter echoes from the yard, and you see Theo twirl your youngest around, her giggles filling the air.

"Do you ever regret it?" you ask quietly. "Leaving him, I mean."

Nadia pauses, considering your question.

"Sometimes. Not because there’s any feelings,” She explains briefly. “He was a good husband, though, and he’s a good father... But I know it was the right thing to do. We deserved to be happy, and so did Theo. And you deserve that, too."

You take a deep breath, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “You’re right.”

“I have a couple pregnancy tests under the sink in my bathroom.” Nadia mentions casually.

“I��m sorry?” You look at her incredulously.

Nadia gestures to your glass of water, with her wine glass.

•••

The drive back to the rental for your last night before heading back to the states is quiet. The soft hum of the engine and the rhythmic sound of the tires on the road are the only sounds filling the car.

The children, exhausted from their last day with their big brother, are fast asleep in the back seat. Their heads bob slightly with each turn, tiny bodies relaxed in the safety of the car.

You glance over at John, his profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. He looks deep in thought, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting casually on his knee.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, you gather your courage. "Nadia told me about your marriage to her... how it really was."

John's grip on the steering wheel tightens slightly, but he keeps his gaze on the road. "Yeah? What’d she say?

“She told me about how the two of you weren’t really together… just married for Theo’s sake.”

John nods, still watching the road.

“I wish you would have just told me.” You sigh. “I wish you would have trusted me with the truth. Trusted that I wouldn’t have judged you for that.”

“It wasn’t about trust,” John explains. “I just… I wanted our relationship to be about us, our future, not my past.”

You stare at John, frustration starting to resurface. "There is no future without a past, John. You can't just compartmentalize parts of your life and expect it not to affect everything else."

John glances at you, his expression conflicted as he rubs a hand over his mouth and beard. "I know. I fucked up, alright? I was scared. Scared that you'd see me differently, that you'd think less of me."

"John, I already see you differently because of the lies," you say softly, your voice trembling.

The silence in the car is heavy, the air thick with unspoken emotions. You can feel the distance between you widening, even as you sit mere inches apart.

John finally breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry. I really am. I never meant to hurt you.”

You close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. "I know you didn't. But it doesn't change the fact that you did."

John pulls into the driveway and parks the car. He turns to you, his blue eyes filled with regret. "I haven’t cheated. I haven’t abandoned my family. Yes, I hid things from you but I came clean.” John takes a deep breath. “How do we fix this?“

“I can’t talk about this right now.” You shake your head, turning to open the passenger door.

John stops you, his hand grabbing yours.

“We made a promise to each other to talk everything out, not fight.” John’s voice was stern as he locked eyes with you. “If you’re going to just walk away again… I’m going to take that as you wanting to end things for good.”

You turn to look at the children, still peacefully asleep in the back seat. The sight of them, so innocent and unaware of the turmoil around them.

"I want to fix this," you say quietly, turning back to John. “I want us to be together again, but-“

“Then we’ll be together again.” John insists.

“It’s not that simple…” You nearly whisper.

“It’s always been that simple with us.” The corners of John’s mouth twitch into a smile. “You found me at a bar and decided we’d be together. I took you on our first date and decided to make you my wife just a year later… It can be that simple. Just say the word, lovey, and I’m yours.”

You study John’s face for a moment. Everything he said is true, whether you want to believe it or not.

“I want us to be together again.” You confirm.

“You mean that?” John’s grin widens, his grip on your hand tightening slightly.

You nod, your own smile growing.

John moved to cup your face, leaning closer to plant a kiss to your lips, but you pull back.

“Wait- Before we get too far, have my own secret that I need to confess.”

John’s eyes flicker between yours, his expression shifting from elated to confused.

You reach into your bag and pull out a little blue-and-white box and hand it to him.

John studies it, then looks up to you.

“Y’r fuckin’ with me.” He mutters, eyes practically twinkling.

“You didn’t even look at it yet.” You roll your eyes playfully.

John tilts the box to the side, letting the pregnancy test slide out and fall into his hand.

It’s positive.

“When did you take this? How long have you known?”

“I’ve had a feeling for a while… I took the test at Nadia’s.” You blush.

John tosses the test to the floor of the car and cups your face again, peppering you with kiss after kiss, murmuring a few I love you’s against your lips.

Your oldest, pretending to still be asleep, opens just one of his blue eyes and peeks at his parents giggling and kissing in the front seat.

He reaches his little arm out to gently shake your youngest awake.

“Kissies.” Your oldest whispers, pointing a finger to the front seat.

Your youngest’s little hands fly to cover her mouth, muffling an excited squeal.

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[ninapi]

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┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺╚══ Kimetsu Daddies: Vol.1 ╝

Premise: Everyone has insecurities and parenting can certainly bring even more to the plate. Taking a trip to memory lane to the first days of his fatherhood journey makes Sanemi realize maybe he isn't half bad himself.

Word Count: 3639

Note: This is a prequel of sorts for my previous story "Liquid Sunshine" (which you can read here if you haven't yet), starting right after bonus chapter 2, but this is also the beginning of a new series as you might have guessed by the title change, lol. My love @huh01011 requested some smut to be added to this series, I must warn you all, I am not a smut writer, and there's not as much in it as I wanted it to be, but I tried to incorporate some in a way~ Also tagging pookie @cock-ainee who wanted to be tagged here ❤️

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Summer was a dreaded season in the Shinazugawa household.

The excessive moisture in the air made almost impossible to work the fields for the younger lads adding even more load to the already overworked Sanemi.

Sanehiko, who could stand such temperatures, was the only one able to aid his father with the animals and the fields as his beloved mother was feeling under the weather.

The last few weeks had been odd. After having such an eye opening conversation with the children, your mood had been sour, making Sanemi feel he had done something wrong.

Dealing with so many little ones, he assumed you were just a bit overwhelmed, baby Sae was still a very demanding baby and Senri, who just started walking on his own, has been climbing trees and running around like a madman, plenty of reasons to be a bit grouchy.

But that was far from reality.

“Sanehiko, where’s your mother?” Sanemi asked his eldest as he hauled the entire harvest of tomatoes on his back.

“Last time I saw her, she was cleaning her own puke near the bath.”

The sound of exploding tomatoes hitting the scorching hot ground made Sanehiko shudder at the thought of the lost produce, “WHAT? She was doing WHAT?”

“Ugh…she was…” the boy stuttered, his mother wont be pleased knowing some of the tomatoes were squashed down by his father’s annoyance and it was most definitely his fault…”She was…ummm…on the floor? Yes, she was on the floor, with a rag cleaning after her…” he smiled proudly, able to recount the facts with as much details as possible without sounding so aggravating.

“Why was she on the floor Sanehiko? Is your mother sick?” panic was written all over Sanemi’s face, if there’s something that terrifies him is the thought of ever loosing you.

Thinking back, Sanehiko realizes he isn’t even sure why his mother was in such predicament, making him feel worse for not stopping to help her, “Not sure father, Genma is the one in charge of mother…I had to come get the milk out on time…”

“Tch, bring the tomatoes inside.” without a second thought, Sanemi marched back inside the house, in search of his darling wife who seemed to be feeling even worse than he thought.

When he found you, Genma was rubbing your belly in soothing circles while you clutched a pillow close to your face, “Hey, my love…what’s wrong…?” his tone of voice was laced with honey, he hated seeing you in distress and he knew you’ve been struggling lately.

“Nemi…” your voice was so weak almost a whisper, he could barely hear you.

“Yes, baby tell me…” holding your hand, he crouched down beside you, giving your knuckles an adoring kiss.

“I-…another one is coming…”

“What do you mean, babe?” realization hit him hard, your pale face, the morning discomfort, lack of appetite, uncomfortable nights…”Oh….OH?…you’re pregnant again, my love??” his eyes went from imminent despair to happiness overload in a mater of seconds, making you chuckle.

“I think so yeah, pretty sure actually, Nemi…isn’t it too fast…? I…I honestly thought Sae would be the last one…at least for a while...”

“Do you not feel comfortable having more children, baby?” sadness could be heard in his voice, but he would respect your wishes, no matter what they were.

“It’s not that, my love…it’s just…my body is still tired, Sae is still breastfeeding, I guess this time is really taking a toll on me, that’s all. Of course I want to bring your babies to this world.” your gentle reassurance brought him back to life, you were all that mattered to him, his entire life, a gift he had been given, one he would protect at all cost.

Forgetting his tiny son was around is one of Sanemi’s traits now a days, Genma was listening to the entire thing, mauling things over in his little head silently while you held each other, his sister however, had been hiding under the window seal, also listening.

“Mama, what’s pr’gnant?” Remi climbed her way into the room through the window, quickly sitting beside Genma.

“It’s when mommy has a baby inside of her, angel.”

Genma gasped loudly, “You did this to her, didn’t you father?! That night! I knew it, you hurt her!”

“No, no baby. Your father didn’t hurt me…he gave us another member of our family, it’s just…you know summer is tough on me, my love, having a baby inside is harder at the beginning, I’ll be ok in a few weeks, I promise.”

Sanemi was speechless, he couldn’t believe his son kept insisting on him hurting you, like if that was actually a thing, he was incapable of hurting a single hair of your head and he would have thought his own son would know this.

“But mother! You shouldn’t have to be this sick! We are already so many in this house! I don’t want you to be sick! Please stop putting babies inside of her, father!” the toddler started wailing, his sister not completely understanding why he was in such distress, hugged him gently. “Mama is ok, nii-nii, don’t cry…”

Sanehiko came into the room when he heard his brother crying, Sae sleeping on his back while Senri was holding his hand, “Genma? What’s wrong?”

“Mama ate a baby and he’s sad…”

“She what?” this time Senri was the one who started crying, his sister’s words scaring the hell out of him.

“I’m pregnant again, love. That’s all.”

“Oh yeah, I thought so. We heard you after all, that’s just how it works, right father?” Sanemi just nodded absentmindedly, while he was happy with the news, he started questioning his fathering skills lately. Genma clearly doesn’t trust him and even thinks he’s capable of hurting his mother, what could possibly led him to think that way? Was he a good father even? He knows he’s strict, having to provide for such a large family isn’t easy, discipline is needed, but he loves his children and he thought they knew it…

Getting up from his spot beside you without saying a word, he walked outside of the house and up a small hill he goes to when he needs to think. Contemplating his own mistakes was more daunting that he ever imagined, memories of Genma’s constant terrified face hunting him.

Sanehiko left the babies in your care and ran after his dad, “Father, are you ok? Mother looked worried…Is the baby sick?”

“No…no, the baby is fine…is your brother who worries me..”

“You mean Genma? Or Senri?” he plopped beside his dad, both had the exact same pose, legs crossed, a half scowl on their faces, it was like seeing himself in a mirror, just that without scars.

“Genma…”

Nodding, Sanehiko let out a sigh, he understands his dad’s predicament, Genma isn’t a difficult kid, he is actually quite a sunshine, but he is obsessed with his own mother and that makes Sanemi’s odds against him most of the times.

“He stopped crying already, father. It’s not that he doesn’t want another sibling, he just doesn’t like it when mother is sick. This time she really is in bad shape though, is it the heat again?”

“Yeah…heat has always been hard on her, specially when she’s in her first trimester…” that made Sanehiko think, none of his siblings had been in that part of pregnancy during summer, not that he can remember at least. “Really? Was it Genma?”

“No, it was you actually…” the memory of you throwing your guts out of the window during summer nights made a faint smile grace his lips.

“Was I a difficult baby, father?” Sanemi’s smile just kept growing with the memories, “Not at all, you were the quietest of all, a true gift…” 

Sanehiko had never seen his father this soft before, it felt oddly comforting knowing he was talking about him just now. “Did I give mother a hard time then? I feel like we’ve never talked about this before…” 

It was crazy, but true. Having to run a farm kept you both very busy and the more babies came, the harder its been to just sit down with your eldest and have a nice chat.

“We were young and inexperienced when you came to this world. For the longest time we thought you were a virus because she couldn’t eat a single thing without puking…” a soft chuckle left his lips as he remembers those sleepless nights of him rubbing your back until you could fall asleep on his lap, holding you while the moon shone above you, illuminating your beautiful face. Those days were quiet, nothing like the ones you have today, and honestly, he kind of misses them. Having you all to himself all day, all night…the intimacy and love remains, but there’s limitations to what he can or cannot do now.

Sanehiko chuckled along shaking his head, a clear image of his mother being painted by his father. “How did you guys know it was me and not a virus then?”

“Hmmmm…after a lot of arguing, I threw your mother over my shoulder and took her to see the doctor downtown, she wasn’t eating and it was making me anxious…”

“You're just like Genma, father.”

“Huh? What do you mean just like Genma? He’s the least similar to me from all your siblings.”

He shook his head, smiling “He’s just like you, father. Mother yawns and one of you is right by her side with a blanket, she coughs and there’s fresh tea in front of her in seconds. She makes a slight noise and the entire house is checking on her, those are the Shinazugawa genes, father, they come from you.” 

Maybe he was right, maybe he and Genma had more in common that he thought, getting the child to see that would be harder though.

“So, you took mother to the doctor. What’d he say?” this is the first time Sanehiko has story time with his father since he’s a little kid, it made him feel fuzzy inside and wanted to hear more of his upbringing.

Sanemi seeing his interest, turned to face him with a grin on his face, “Then he tells us she isn’t sick but round and full with our first child. I still remember that day like it was yesterday, man was I happy…” 

“You were happy because I was inside of mother?” he wasn’t expecting to hear that, while he knows his father loves getting his mother pregnant, he isn’t one to celebrate or smile like that.

“Of course! There was nothing I wanted more back then than to see your mother stuffed full with my child. I can’t expect you to understand this yet, but there is nothing better than knowing a piece of you lives inside the woman you love…”

“A piece of you…am I a piece of you, father?”

“Damn straight you are, son. Half of me, half of your beautiful mother, the result of our never ending love…”

“I’m the result of your love…” Sanehiko has never felt this loved before, his parents are usually very caring and understanding, but hearing his stoic father saying such a thing made his eyes fill up with tears.

“You really love mother, don’t you father?”

“More than I could ever thought possible, son…” Sanemi’s smile was pure, soft, love could be felt from the air around him, it was palpable.

“And…us?” while he was scared of asking, he knew his father loved him, yet somehow he needed validation.

“I love every single one of you with all my heart. Even when it doesn’t seem like it.”

Sanehiko scooted closer, wrapping his arms around his father in a way to comfort his aching heart, “We know you do.” resting his cheek on his son’s fluffy hair, they stay there in silence, until you called out for your eldest for help.

Sanemi decided to stay a little longer contemplating life once more.

Thinking about the days when you two were younger and so very much in love brought a permanent smile to his face. 

Sanehiko’s arrival was indeed the peak of his lifetime.

When you agreed to let him move with you to the farm for good, it took just a couple of hours before he had you pinned to the bathroom wall, this time without clothes in between, marks of his passion for you littering your beautiful silky skin, those gorgeous lips parted for him and screaming his name as he rammed into you nonstop, quite the memory really.

And it continued for a while, every day and night the growing needs to posses you, to fill you up with his essence, was overbearing. He needed the world to see you were claimed, to see you were his and his alone, that every single bit of skin on that beautiful body of yours was his, that your heart and all your love within it was exclusively just for him.

Memories of your face contouring with pleasure as he sucked on your perfect perky breasts like it was his last meal, the screams leaving your pretty lips and carrying his name through the wind every time he pushed himself within you as deep as he could and then some. The heat inside of you squeezing him dry, then making him hard once again at how good it felt to have you cum around his aching manhood, at how tightly you clenched around him with your core, holding onto him like if your life depended on it. He truly misses those days when his name echoed in every single wall of the house, your melodic moans and the sound of your heavy breathing all that could be heard for miles.

But when he held his first child in his arms, his world got upside down. He just didn’t know what to do with himself.

While he had witnessed all the birthing of his siblings, he had never felt such a bond before. The way Sanehiko’s eyes were barely open, how he held to his large manly thumb for dear life and hugged it to sleep, how he would snuggle on his chest and just lay there for hours just changed him.

You were his angel, his wife, the woman he loved from almost the moment he met you. A true gift from the heavens, but this baby…this little human in his arms….he was the outcome of your passion, of your fierce love for one another, he held all your dreams, your future, this tiny little thing who fit in his palm was the reason you both lived to that day, he was your anchor, the very core of your family, your reason to get up every day and make a living out of that devastated farm.

Sanehiko meant hope, joy, love. His first child, the one he so wished to have, his pride.

While he thought you’d be pregnant right after Sanehiko was born, because being real, he had his way between your legs daily; Genma didn’t come for a while.

You had time to bond with your first child, get to know him, play with him, teach him how to tend the animals. Being a parent isn’t easy, a first born gets to experience all the ‘firsts’ after all, but overall the learning experience helped you both create patterns for the future babes. While none of the kids were alike, at least it gave you a foundation already stablished to raise your children, and it worked quite well. Until lately, that is.

The heat was finally dimming down a little signalizing the day was coming to an end, the need to check on you being more significant than the dread he felt of facing Genma.

Heading inside the house he noticed Sanehiko was reading a story to the younger kids, Remi being already asleep on his leg. The sight made him smile, memories of little newborn Sanehiko still fresh in his mind.

In your room, Genma was still looking a bit sulky but you looked way better, lunch already gone from your system.

“Hey beautiful…felling better?” he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You’re normally not as physically affectionate in front of the children, but you could feel your man needing comfort.

“I am, baby. Don’t worry, our child is going to be as healthy as the rest, of that I’m sure. You know the heat hunts me when I’m pregnant…” your soft giggles made him smile, “Yeah I was telling Sanehiko that story earlier, how you’d puke every night and could only sleep on my lap…” his smile turned to a smirk, his lips finding your neck to give it a little nip.

“Mmmmm yeah…good old times…we need to time babies better so I never have to spend another first trimester in summer again though…” groaning you turned your head to bury your face in his soft hair, his natural scent was just so comforting, it made you feel better almost immediately.

“Yeah, I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to…” his soft tone and apology startled Genma, he’s rarely ever heard his father saying his sorry for anything, let alone be this gentle.

“I’m just as guilty of this as you are, my love. You don’t need to apologize. On the contrary, thank you for giving me another treasure…” the feeling of your soft nose buried in his hair was making him feel so emotional. Earlier he had felt like he sucked at being a parent but after bonding over it with Sanehiko and reminiscing of the time he was born, he just feels so complete…

“Thank you, babe…without you…I wouldn’t….I…I don’t know what I’d do or where I’d be without you…” his words were chocked up, Genma was still in shock, he could feel the emotional state of his broken father filling up the air.

“Father…are you ok…?” Genma held onto Sanemi’s leg, hugging it with his tiny body. It’s been a while since he feels his toddler’s warmth.

“I am son, thank you for asking.” 

“Father…I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier, I don’t understand this baby thing very well…but I know you wouldn’t hurt mother now…” Sanemi’s heart grew three sizes, he didn’t know he needed to hear this so badly, but turns out he did.

“You know? Sanehiko told me earlier that you’re very similar to me…that your obsession with your mother is all my fault for being your father…” that made you laugh, while it is true, it’s kind of ridiculous.

“You two are very similar that’s true, loving, gentle, big hearted sweethearts and gorgeous babes~” the last part made Genma fall into a crazy fit of giggles.

“Mother, how was I as a baby? I know Nii-chan was very attached to father, was I always attached to you?”

“Well yes, you’ve always been very much a mama’s boy…but when you were born…God…I had to line up to get some time with you, your father would hog you away and keep you all to himself all the time, even Sanehiko was jealous back then!” 

“I did not hog our child, ok? I was just…happy…” Genma’s little ears turned bright pink, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You were happy because I looked like my uncle?” while that was part of it originally, it wasn’t just that, he truly had a wonderful bond with his sons, he was happy to welcome a new one after so long, Sanehiko was already a toddler back then and having such a cute little baby coddled up on his chest would make his heart sing every time.

“No, when you were born you were bald, we didn’t even know you would have dark hair.” that was a lie, but it made the child glow with happiness, being cared for just for his similarities to his uncle is something he’s feared his whole life.

“Bald? I didn’t know I was an ugly baby!”laughing wildly, Sanemi lets go of your waist to pick his son up in his arms, “Nah you were the cutest baby I’ve ever laid eyes on…”

“Cuter than Sae? She’s real cute, father…” his little hands wrapped around Sanemi’s head, his cute tiny nose nuzzling the side of his face as he giggles happily, this sort of affection normally reserved just for you, made Sanemi think he might have been finally forgiven by his son.

“Oh she is, alright, she looks just like your mama. But you…your eyes were so full of love even when you were a day old…I’ll never forget the first time you smiled at us…We knew we were blessed that day…” Genma has never been this clingy with Sanemi, but it felt just right, it reminded him of a young Genya clinging onto him for support and for comfort, days that had been long forgotten, days he holds dear in his heart, those days filled with nothing but happiness, those came back thanks to you, thanks to the beautiful family you two were able to build based on love and trust.

Being a father isn’t easy, and six is indeed a very large number, but he would do it all over again as many times as needed just to see the smile in your face every time they’re around.

“But father, are you going to explain me now how does the baby pee work? Can you make more when she has a baby inside already? Do they line up? Or do you like turn it off? I’ve been smelling your tea, I didn’t notice anything different, I still want to know what you need to drink to make babies…”

“Oh god…not again…”

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Masterlist Previous Chapter

[trappolia]

IS IT CASUAL NOW? ── ace trappola + gn!reader, 1k

ace trappola has always been a somebody.

he was born a somebody, there is no denying that; not his father's iron fist always reminding him and his older brother that they could not have achieved the comforts they had today without the hard work of his ancestors, nor his mother's soft hands smoothening his messy hair and telling him to always be humble. there is something distinctive to his family name, the consonants twisting around his tongue like the echoes of the eternal city in a dying sunset and the ancient pathways of the foro romano; english nannies and private schools, summers in the afterglow savannah, winters in the north of the shaftlands.

his "first love" is at seventeen, summertime, at the poolside of some seaside village where a distant cousin let him sleep in the spare bedroom. the sun beats down on his nape kissed a hot, angry pink, and he lays on his back for hours and thinks of how the sun can eat him up with her love. he does not remember why or how he kissed you ── beautiful, sunkissed and golden in his memories of that heat wave in july ── but he remembers the mornings after where he awoke to your legs tangled with his beneath thin, cotton sheets as the sun rose in the horizon, skin tingling with sunburn and bruising kisses.

no one asks why you come down together for breakfast in the mornings, or why the mattress underneath the bed is no longer pulled out for someone to sleep on at night. when his nonna mentions how she expected it, considering how attached at the hip you two have been since first year, ace just gives a non-committal hum, and the subject is never brought up again.

when summer ends, ace does not kiss you goodbye. neither of you talk about it either.

this is not to say that you are a nobody, not to ace. he is not so foolish, not so prideful as he was in his youth just two years ago. ace has already shared with you most things that he would not divulge to just anyone; his time, his space, his bed. you are his other half, the same way he is to deuce; the way your little gaggle of troublemakers have tangled themselves in a web made up of a red string of fate. and so neither of you speak about those hot summer months, entangled with each other like pieces of an ambitious puzzle, and life goes on. there is a shift, yes, he feels it in the marks from your nails in long, linear b lines down his back, stolen moments in between classes in dark janitor's closets, your tie and underwear tucked inside his drawer, but nothing has changed. you sleep over, then you're gone by morning for your next class. you see him in the hallway and beam, let him sling his arm around you like you are both still sixteen and first-years in a school that seems so much bigger than the two of you.

you never stay, but ace never loses you.

ace cannot lose you, or at least, he doesn't think he can. he has never lost anything, anybody; not once in his life. people have only been dismissed from his company, or little toys taken away for some time for his misbehaviour.

but he has never lost.

and then winter of third year rolls along, and there is a trembling sense of finality that settles over ace when he sees you studying for what will be your final exams, skin pale without that warm glow months before. he sees you less often, kisses you less often, as even he has to be hidden away indoors, skulking around dark corridors leaves him saturnine and dreading the exam hall and the weight of his pen in his hand. ace goes to bed alone, and even in those few moments where he manages to stay awake before his head hits the pillow, he thinks about how cold the bed is without you.

ace thinks about how this will be the last year the two of you spend together, before you're both inevitably sent off someplace else, surely not together, for your work practice.

and suddenly losing you becomes terrifyingly plausible.

ace doesn't want to be a somebody if it's not with you; he knows this now for certain. he sleeps over at ramshackle when exams are over, but even when you kiss him he cannot help but think: this is the last time, this is the last time, this is the last time—

maybe that's why he swallows when he watches you get dressed the next morning, thinks of your mocking in saccharine sweet just the night before, crooning in his ear: poor, poor ace. always gets what he wants, and the moment he doesn't, he throws a little fit.

that's wrong, ace had wanted to say. he doesn't remember throwing a fit, not once in his entire childhood. and then he looks up at you, divinity in the flesh, hands wrapped around his throat, and he thinks: oh. i've never had anything to lose before you.

“mhm?” you hum when ace wraps his arm around your hips, lazy but firm. his lips press against the curve where your the skin of your waist stretches over your hipbones, that sweet curve. “you want me to call someone to bring breakfast? i think jack can be convinced.”

“mrm,” ace mumbles against the sweet curve of your waist to hip, the single syllable roughly translated to “no, thank you” by your keen sense.

(his sweet darling, his other half)

“what is it?” you coo, running a hand through his messy auburn hair. “c’mon, i agreed to take ruggie’s shift—“

“fuck ruggie, respectfully,” ace grumbles, and he tilts his chin to look up at you, his mahogany eyes soft and sweet and lovely. “stay.”

stay.

he sees your expression falter at the word. he’s never said it to you, not in this context. ace was so foolish to think he could have you without asking, so dumb to even consider that you’d stay for someone you weren’t even officially bound to.

“stay?” you echo, voice small.

“stay with me,” he reiterates, his cheeks beginning to burn. ace sees the corners of your lips tug up, and he thinks he sees you somewhere down the road, making fun of him and his stupidity at your wedding table.

(his heart swells at the thought, endlessly fond)

“yeah?” you’re smiling now. little shit, he thinks in the same breath as: how pretty.

“yeah,” ace exhales, before his heart seizes. “…will you?”

you laugh, and it sounds like summertime and first loves. “obviously, dumbass. i thought you’d never ask.”

(he was foolish to even doubt)

© trappolia 2024

[masonmontz]

hellooo everyone :) hope you like it

REMEMBER: english is not my first language

angst word count: 2,6k

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

Mason doesn't know when things started going wrong, but it's been a while.

Since that night.

The night a piece of Mason died, because before everything was beautiful and happy, and now he feels like everything is blue. Mason is not a melancholic person, but he doesn't know how to get out of it when no one is understanding what is happening to him.

“Hi, can you come to Manchester alone?” Mason asked his mother on the phone, and it was the first time in over a year that Mason had asked Debbie to come to him. Only her, because Mason needs a comfort that only Debbie can give him, the comfort that only a mother can give a child.

“I'm taking a train tomorrow” she replied and he nodded before hanging up, but not before answering several questions, and honestly Mason didn't want to answer any of them because he was too sad. 

Mason hung up the phone and went to the kitchen looking for something to eat, but he's a disaster at cooking and had no head to think, so he just picked up his phone and ordered Japanese food.

He wasn't really hungry, but if he didn't eat, he knew he would have terrible training tomorrow. Some days Mason just ate out of obligation, smiled out of obligation, talked because others talked to him, and he does everything like a robot.

Mason stood at the kitchen window and watched the rain falling outside. Winter was coming and Mason was going crazy, everything was strange, he finally returned to training after a few weeks injured, but not even that could make him happy.

Mason hasn't been able to feel happy for over a month. 

And he doesn't know when he'll be able to get over it.

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

“So, do you want to talk about it?” Debbie asked him the next day after he got back from training. She was sitting on the couch and Mason sat on the floor when he arrived, just to play with Ace for a bit. Debbie knew there was something very wrong with her son, Mason was silent, sad.

“Hum, yeah, of course, I just don’t know how” Mason sighed in frustration, for a month he has been mulling over the same thing in his head, surviving day after day, but he feels like he is about to explode. “It's hurting me, mum.”

Debbie felt sorry for him because he looked miserable. Mason sighed and lay on the floor, looking up at the ceiling above him.

“Let's start at the beginning, okay? Was it something between you and Y/n?”

Mason's heart sank when she spoke your name to him, because Mason had refused to talk about it for a month, and now he felt all the feelings rushing into his chest at once like bullets.

Debbie knew about you, you and Mason had only been together for a few months, but he seemed more in love than ever. 

“I was going to be a father” Mason whispered and the memory of that terrible night came rushing back to his head, a terrible place in his mind that he couldn't get out of on his own. “She lost our baby.”

“What?” Debbie couldn't hide her surprise and shock, because she didn't expect this. 

“It was my fault.”

Mason has been reliving that night in his head all the time, ever since he heard the doctor say the baby didn't survive. Mason remembers the feeling that was like several knives hitting him, he had never felt anything like it. Mason remembers the scene of you crying in the hospital bed, he can even hear the sobs when he closes his eyes, and that sound has terrified him every night.

“Why is it your fault, Mason?” Debbie asked, getting off the couch and sitting on the floor. Mason laid his head on Debbie's legs, feeling his heart ache as she stroked his hair, just like a mother does with a child. 

It was a very rainy night, Mason had an interview scheduled at Old Trafford and he decided he wouldn't go by car, as Bruno was also going and Mason asked to go with him. Bruno left first and Mason asked you to pick him up, but more than twenty minutes had passed and you still hadn't arrived, and Mason started to get worried, but he couldn't leave, because you could arrive at any moment.

But the only thing that arrived was a message from your number, but it wasn't you who wrote it. Mason's heart stopped at that moment as he read the message saying that your car had slid off the road and crashed, but you were fine, you just needed to go to the hospital because of the baby. 

Mason paid the Uber driver a lot more while he begged him to go faster because he was so worried he was biting his nails.

Shit, it was his fault, Mason shouldn't have asked you to pick him up in that heavy rain. Anyone knew it could be dangerous.

Mason ran through the halls after finding out which room you were in, and he sighed in relief when he saw you lying there without a scratch, but when you turned to head towards the door, Mason saw red eyes.

He didn't want to think the worst, but it was impossible.

“Hey, you good?” he approached, shaking, Mason's hands began to sweat. He was happy that you were alive, that you were okay.

You opened your mouth to respond, but a sob escaped your throat and you began to cry desperately. Mason sat on the hospital bed and hugged you, not caring that he was wet from the rain.

“How is our baby? Is everything fine?” 

Mason felt his heart break into a thousand pieces when you pressed your face against his chest and cried, and Mason felt trapped in a nightmare when he understood what had happened. You looked up and looked at Mason, you were inconsolable, suffering, and it was then that Mason realized that it was his fault.

“I lost- I lost our baby” he couldn't say anything, but you were squeezing Mason so tightly that he couldn't get away and get away from you. “I’m so sorry, Mason. I’m so sorry.”

Mason didn't know why you were apologizing. He didn't say anything, Mason didn't even let a tear fall, he couldn't cry when you were desperate in his arms.

“It wasn't your fault, Mason” Debbie said to Mason when he told her what had happened, and she wiped the tear that fell down her son's face. “Don’t say that ever again.”

“I shouldn't have asked her to pick me up, I should have taken an Uber or taxi and left her at home, safe.”

You would still be pregnant if it weren't for the car crash that caused you to lose the baby, and you wouldn't be sad right now, nor would Mason. And you wouldn't be separated either. You were going to have a beautiful baby, Mason thought it was a girl, and then he was going to have two of you.

Everything was ruined now, and it was all his fault.

Mason also can't forget your crying when he left you two days later like a coward, the guilt was consuming him and he accepted that you would be much better without him. He was a coward, Mason couldn't accept that he made you suffer like that, and that's why he decided to leave, so as not to cause any more damage to your life.

Mason didn't know what was worse, remembering you crying when you told him you had a miscarriage or when you were crying and begging him not to leave you. 

“Why did you leave her, Mason?” 

“Because I don't want to cause her any more suffering.”

“Mason, I'm your mother, and I'm not going to hide what I think about this. You're suffering, you think it's your fault but it's not, and I'm sure Y/n thinks the same.” Mason closed his eyes, it still hurt to think about it, and maybe it would never stop hurting. “I can't imagine your pain, losing a child is probably the greatest pain anyone can go through, even if the child hasn't been born yet.”

“But a mother's pain is probably greater, what if Y/n thinks it's her fault? Have you thought about that? I don't want to put any weight on your shoulders, but you left her at the worst moment of her life. She might be suffering much more without you than with you.”

“She's probably better off without me.”

“I'm only going to tell you this once. You know she loves you, that woman would do anything for you and I know you would do anything for her, don't ruin what was the best thing that ever happened to you because you're stubborn. I'm so sorry you lost a child, Mason, I'm truly sorry, it's a dream to be a grandmother again, but I'm not going to let you cry here alone when you could be by her side and you can get through this together.”

Mason cried. For the first time in a month he cried. Mason let out all the pain of losing his baby, crying eased the pain he had in his chest, but not the guilt.

Debbie let him cry and cried with him, because Mason was still her son and she didn't want to see any of her children suffer. She would let them all cry on her lap whenever they needed to.

“I don't want to make her sadder.” he confessed quietly and felt his mother's fingers in his hair. 

“You need to be with her, Mason, no one wants to go through this alone.”

“I think it was a girl.”

Mason could imagine a little girl running around the house, with hair the same color as him, but with your smile. She would definitely have your personality.

“I wish you had told me sooner that I was going to be a grandmother. I'm so sorry about that, Mason. I never wanted you to have to go through the pain of losing a child.”

“I feel like my heart has been crushed for a month.”

“Please go talk to her, she deserves an explanation and you don't deserve to go through this apart.”

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

You sighed when you felt a drop of rain fall on your face, walking faster to the entrance of the building where you live with some groceries in your hands. It still wasn't fast enough, because the rain got heavier and you got soaked as you tried to reach the building.

“Oh, Lord” you muttered to yourself when you reached the gate, and didn't even look ahead as you made sure no bags were ripped. 

You stopped when you saw Mason standing at the entrance of the building outside, staring at you. He was standing leaning against the wall, and you felt your heart race because you hadn't seen him in over a month. 

He had his hair shaved, and you knew it was because he took a hit to the head that caused him to get stitches. God, you loved him so much you could cry, and he was so beautiful and you hated him for leaving you.

Not even the rain bothered you at that moment, because you couldn't look at anything else but Mason. Mason pushed himself off the wall and walked towards you, but he called you to get out of the rain that had now left all your hair and clothes wet. 

“Hey” you said, handing the bags to Mason when he asked. “Do you want to come in?”

Of course, you couldn't help but notice the deep circles under his eyes, and Mason looked thinner than usual. You knew you looked just as bad as he did.

“If you don't mind, I want to.” 

Mason walked you to your apartment in silence, and you didn't know what to say. It was a surprise to see him there, it had been a terrible month and you still hadn't recovered. 

Mason put all the bags in the kitchen while you went to the bathroom to get a towel to dry yourself. Mason followed you when you went to your bedroom, and his desolate look on you warmed your heart, because you thought you were the only one who suffered with what happened, but Mason was there in front of you suffering.

“I'm going to take a shower” you mumbled and took off your clothes, knowing Mason was watching you. “Come with me?”

You didn't wait for Mason and went to the bathroom, turning on the hot water in the shower to take a long shower after the cold rain. You stepped into the shower and watched as Mason silently took off his clothes, and soon after he was in the shower with you.

“Why did you leave me?” you whispered looking at Mason. Mason opened his mouth to respond but he couldn't, he started crying and put his hands on his face. “Mason, it’s fine.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. I’m so sorry, please forgive me. It was my fault and-”

“What?” you asked, because you had no idea that Mason was blaming himself for what happened. “It wasn't your fault, what are you talking about?”

Mason knelt on the bathroom floor and wrapped his arms around your waist, crying into you as the hot water ran over you.

“I should have never asked you to come pick me, it's my fault, you lost our baby because of me.” God, you didn’t think you could feel this much pain. Mason had been blaming himself for a whole month, and you would never have let him go if you knew. You knelt in front of him and held his face in your hands.

“Listen to me, this wasn't your fault, it was an accident and accidents happen.” He shook his head and you rested his forehead against yours, hugging his neck. “Why did you leave me?”

“I didn't want you to hate me, I didn't want to make you suffer more.”

“I suffered more without you by my side.”

“Forgive me, please.”

“There's nothing to forgive, Mason. You lost a son too, I know this is hard for you too.”

“I shouldn't have let you go through this alone.”

“Never leave me again, please.”

“Never again, never again. I promise. I’m so sorry.” 

“I wish I was still pregnant.” you confessed, because it's true. You've lived very happy weeks since you found out about the pregnancy.

“I know, me too.” Mason left a kiss on your forehead and you held him closer to you. It was an intimate moment, two hearts hurting but finding healing together. “I love you, I’m so sorry.” 

“I love you, I’m sorry too.” you kissed Mason. “We'll get through this together, okay?”

“I'm sorry I was away from you for a month, you've been through hell alone.”

“Don't worry, you're with me now.”

You took a shower together, nothing more than small kisses, because you just wanted to spend time together. It was an important moment, Mason felt like he was forgiven even though he had nothing to be forgiven for, and you knew that now you could fully heal, Mason was once again with you.

Sometimes the bad times just show you that you're better together than you are apart, and Mason finally understood what his mum said, about healing together, and getting through everything together, both the good times and the bad times.

[matramancer]

If I Were Stronger. [Narumi Gen x Mitsuri! Reader]🌸

🌸Synopsis: What if Mitsuri! reader was there during the fight with Isao Shinomiya?

Part of the Mitsuri! reader series

tags: angst with comfort, MANGA SPOILERS (ch 51), character death, narumi x reader, fem!reader, Mitsuri!reader, reader and Narumi are kikoru’s mentors, kikoru and reader are close, hopeful ending.

It’s quiet in the First Division base.

On a solemn morning, the flags of the base are lowered. Everyone stands in formation, giving a final salute to the loss of a legend.

Standing up front, Narumi Gen holds himself strong in front of his troops, his back so far away. Despite the respect he earned, the high praises,  the honor of dying in the battlefield, no one can deny that the death of General Shinomiya was a tragedy.

A few steps behind him were the other platoon leaders, and for a moment, time had stopped. No rowdy battle cries, no arguments. Not even the bounce from their resident bright ball of sunshine.

it’s quiet. It’s unlike you.

As your eyes drift to Gen’s backside, the black fabric feels like an abyss peering into your memories. The scar from that day that you shared with him. Fresh wounds that you tried not to show. 

You were there when it happened, after all.

“GENERAL SHINOMIYA IS ENGAGING WITH KAIJU NO. 9! ALL UNITS, STAY ON HIGH ALERT!”

As you stopped to turn to your right, you could hear the clash of weapons, as well as the sound of falling debris and rubble. Was that them?

“Platoon leader (L/N) speaking. I’m near the main site and approaching!”

It was a race against time, one where you prayed that you could make it. Narumi and Kaiju No. 8 were speeding ahead too, surely, with the four of you against #9, you could stop him.

You didn’t even register the long run it took from your area to where General Shinomiya was. Not even the pain from the multiple wounds you sported. All you remembered was rubble flying everywhere, and racing to Kurusu’s front as soon as you spotted him.

“Kurusu-san!” Kurusu coughs from breathing out the dust from the rubble you sliced into pieces. 

“Platoon leader (L/N!)” He exclaims in disbelief, still holding onto his laptop whilst you provide cover. As you tried to study the situation, more and more rubble threatened to hit Kurusu. The general was standing strong, his number’s weapon holding against #9. “Please don’t worry about me–provide cover to the chief!” Kurusu stated, before getting interrupted by Isao himself.

“(L/N)!!” Stunned at General Shinomiya’s booming voice, you and Kurusu turn towards him. “Evacuate Kurusu!”

“BUT SIR–”

“AT ONCE!” at General Shinomiya’s orders, you immediately change your stance, picking Kurusu up.

“YES SIR!” Without a moment’s hesitation, you hastily jump away with Kurusu, not knowing what the general had in plan. You hoped he had a plan at all. You could still move, you were strong. You had to do something.

Kurusu’s words brought your attention back to him. “High energy levels–is he planning to use No. 2’s blast?!” Gasping as you let him down at a clearing, the two of you immediately fell to your knees at the sheer amount of pressure suddenly forming from the spot where Isao stood. So that was why…

You nearly flinch at the gunshot from the ceremony, the sound bringing you back to the present. Narumi’s back was still in front of you, only showing a part of his side profile.

It must’ve been so heavy on him. You knew, even from how stoic he was with everyone, that Narumi meant a lot to him. That General Shinomiya also meant so much to Narumi. That their bond, though unspoken, was strong. 

And now he’s gone. He was taken from him right in front of his eyes.

But it wasn’t just Narumi that had a mentor taken away from him.

The ceremony ends, and you excuse yourself as soon as you find the chance. 

A girl lost her father.

“GENERAL SHINOMIYA!”

Your mind drifts back to the battlefield, towards the seconds where you returned to General Shinomiya.

It’s eerily silent. You hated it.

“General Shinomiya! Do you copy?!” You breathed through your mask, twirling your sword through the air to get rid of the dust obstructing your vision. 

The news from Kurusu shocked you to the bone. Two shots. Kaiju No. 2’s main burst twice in a row. General Shinomiya…

Your heart rate quickens. You had to support him fast. There’s no way his body could last. Please, please don’t let this happen again. The Defense Force can’t lose another leader. Especially not its director.

Memories of your late platoon leader flash through your mind, but you blink them away. Now’s not the time.

In the distance, you could see Narumi and #8, finally arriving on the scene. With your combined manpower, you could at least make sure that the general had time to recover.

Your feet ached as you caught your breath once more, now back in the building. You don’t know why or how your body took you here, but there you stood, hands on the lavish wooden doors, hearing the silent sobs of Kikoru Shinomiya.

Heart clenching, your knuckles turned white as you tried to calm your breathing, feeling your throat clamp up. You felt anger, felt grief. But that’s not what matters right now. You had to be there for her.

“Kikoru-chan,” at the sound of your voice and the creak of the door opening, her sniffles paused. You set aside any formalities, nevertheless how the both of you were technically trespassing. You were probably going to get an earful from your superiors too, with a member of your platoon skipping such an important event, indulging AND partaking in breaching what counted as private quarters. But that didn’t matter. Kikoru wasn’t your star student right now, she was just a girl.

You made your way closer to her, letting your stern demeanor falter as you stood in front of her.

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone. It’s okay to cry, Kikoru-chan.” You hushed her, slowly bringing your hands towards her.

When she started to sob again, you took her in your arms, sinking onto the floor as her body shook. 

You hated the quiet. You hated this.

You hated how #9 disgraced Shinomiya Isao’s image in front of his own daughter.

The door creaks open again. This time, a heavier set of footsteps made their way to the late general’s desk. You didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

Perhaps Narumi and you were on much more similar wavelengths than you thought, because he at least disregarded how lax your behavior was as a platoon leader. 

“You sure you didn’t want to see him off?”

The three of you shared a strange yet not unwelcome sense of acknowledgement and understanding in that room.

A shared wound that could only be understood by those who were truly there.

The horror you felt when #8 screamed the news to Narumi rang through your body like a bomb.

As you approached rapidly to the sight of what you thought was the general, you saw him turn around.

“GENERAL SHINOMIYA!” You cried out, mustering all of the power in your legs to reach him. 

It wasn’t enough.

“THAT ISN’T THE CHIEF!”

You failed your role. Failed to be that barrier between what you sought to protect. 

Kurusu and the others watch in horror through the feeds as the desecrated face of what used to be Isao turned, as if to mock him.

It was horrifying.

Letting out a gasp, you barely registered the giant blast he sent towards the three of you.

As the rubble cleared, you stood aside Captain Narumi and Kaiju no. 8, still in disbelief.

Hearing him speak about how he killed the general made your blood boil, your knuckles turning white.

But it broke your heart to see Kikoru just behind him after.

Clenching your fist, you and Narumi sprang forward in full offense.

“How dare you.” You swore, in a silent whisper that had never left your body before. As you twisted your body and launched yourself upward, you put your full force into slicing several of #9’s limbs, giving Narumi an opening.

But just as Narumi swore with his entire being that he would destroy #9 in Shinomiya’s place, #9 stopped the fight, throwing a casual remark about how he was going to “call it a day.”

Narumi has never lost his composure, and he doesn’t plan to. But he would not stand for such blasphemy–nor would he ever let #9 get away from him alive.

As he launched his attack, you followed suite with #8 into the fray, bearing your sword like a whip. 

“LETS RAIN HELL ON HIM! #8! (L/N)!”

“SQUADRON STYLE BAYONET TECHNIQUE NUMBER ONE!”

“SECOND FORM: LOVE PANGS!”

 Yet no matter how many hits you got in, no matter how many times Narumi charges at him, no matter how strong #8’s hits was, the three of you were still being pushed back.

You prayed again, prayed that through some high power, no matter what it takes, that you’d be able to end this right now.

“!!!” Your eyes widened as a shot from #9 misses you and hurdles itself towards Kikoru instead.

Without thinking, you immediately move to defend her, taking the brunt force of the hit with your machine gun. “NO!” You yelled. You can’t afford to lose her either. 

Kikoru stares at you with wide eyes, as you steady your balance and change stances to use your other weapon.

Breathing heavily, you let out a cry as you shot at #9 relentlessly, acting as suppressing fire for Narumi and #8.  

It was always in your nature to protect. And you couldn’t afford to fail with Kikoru as you did her father.

Her suit had probably overheated, she was out of commission. The least you could do was–

You let out a string of coughs, a metallic taste in your lips.

Suit overheat. Suit overheat. Cooldown required.

“(L/N)-SAN!” Kikoru screamed, distressed at the data reading of your suit. She cursed over how she was frozen to her spot.

“I still have some fight left in me!” You put your arm in front of her. Kikoru was a bright girl, with a bright future ahead of her. The more you could spare her now, the better.

You were about to put away your gun to slow down your overheating, but just as you did, the sight of one of #9’s attacks slipping between Narumi and #8’s defenses entered both you and Kikoru’s field of vision.

Your eyes widened, feeling the burn of your body as you forced yourself to move.

“KAFKA!” You yelled, taking the hit for him.

You knew Kaiju no. 8–No, Kafka was special, not just to the Defense Force, but to those that cared for him. He was loved. By Kikoru, by the 3rd Division. You had the utmost pleasure of bonding with him from the start of his stay in the 1st Division. You were one of the first to accept him.

And you couldn’t bear to see Kikoru hurt even more.

Narumi’s eyes widened as red splotched your suit, your machine gun wrecked by #9’s burst.

He knew that with your caring personality, you’d always take the choice to wedge yourself to be that layer of protection. He hated that about you sometimes, but especially this time.

But there was no time to worry, you wouldn’t allow it. “RESUME ATTACK, CAPTAIN AND NO. 8!” You choked out, barely nailing your landing. The attack burned through your machine gun and messed you up good. 

As you scramble to get on your feet, your legs caved in, making you unceremoniously thud to the ground. Now you’ve really done it. “I messed up…”

Narumi swears he saw red. He’d never say it out loud, but the grip he had on his bayonet was so hard, he swung, uncaring if his nerves could snap in half.

You could hear the sound of fighting continue just a dozen meters ahead of you, but your vision was going black. You felt something warm running down your forehead and covering your eye. Your ears were ringing.

As strong as The Love Pillar is known to be, she was still a human.

You could barely even hear from your comms now. Was that still Kurusu talking? “REROUTING (L/N)’S SUIT TO FULL HEALING! PREPARE PARAMEDICS!”

No, you can still fight. For your place in the Defense Force. For your oath to protect, for the 1st division that welcomed you so warmly. For Captain Narumi. For Mr. Shinomiya.

And humans always had an exploitable weakness. 

Suddenly, the air stiffens just as your hearing returns to hear Kaiju no. 9. “Ah, I should have done this from the beginning.” 

“What…” You and Kikoru’s eyes widened at the sudden incoming blasts moving towards the both of you.

You stiffen up as your instincts tell you to fight back. To draw your machine gun or to jump out of the way. To protect Kikoru. 

…But you couldn’t feel your legs.

“BASTARD!” in a haze, you only hear Narumi’s yell from a distance, still trying frozen in place.

The last thing you saw was his back in a protective stance, shielding you from the blast.

And the body of Isao Shinomiya flying to the sky, waging war to all of humanity.

It hurts to think, it hurts to remember. It hurts to see the people you care about skewered by guilt and sadness.

It hurt you the most when Narumi sat on the stretcher next to you, hunched over whilst gripping his head in his hands when he thought no one was looking.

You were unknowingly clenching onto the fabric of Kikoru’s uniform too, you realize, as you hear her talk to Narumi. How she wouldn’t even let herself grief.

At the sound of that, Narumi declares something.

“I’ll make you the strongest after me.” You and Kikoru look up in surprise. “I’ll drill what mr. Isao drilled into me to you.” 

As Kikoru’s tears ran, so did her newfound determination. The fight isn’t over. It’s just begun. She swears to it, as you and Narumi bear witness.

“(L/N).” He turns to you, causing your body to stiffen. “I’m entrusting this duty to you. Direct orders,” you straighten, getting back on your feet.

You’ve never seen Narumi like this before.

“Sir.” you fix your appearance, trying your best to look stern. You were never really good at it.

“Get stronger.” You bit the inside of your cheek at his words. It wasn’t just an order, it was a statement. “Train Shinomiya. Be at each other’s side,”

“Show me results.”

***

It’s very awkward to have to take an elevator ride with Captain Narumi after that whole ordeal.

You didn’t even know where to look. For once, no conversations flowed through your mind.

“This is bad!!! This is very bad!!!” You internally panicked. Never mind the constant headaches and large amount of medical treatment you still needed to undergo, you were fretting over what he would say to you as a platoon leader trespassing and enabling a rule breaking cadet! “I can’t look him in the eye!”

“Um…” You broke the silence, yet Narumi made no effort to look in your direction. “Captain.”

You bit your lip. What were you to even say? Yes, you and Narumi were close, but this atmosphere… the weight of the world was on him. Could you even be there for him?

But you remember how hard this was for him. How much of a front he’s handling right now. So, you merely soften your voice, to sound as respectful as possible. Then, you bow. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss, sir.”

Narumi still doesn’t move. Not like there’s anywhere to go.

You wonder if you’ve overstepped any boundaries. He was still your captain, even if you sort of had a strange bond with him. Maybe not as strange as what he has with Vice Captain Hoshina, but still. He was a friend.

“Thank you, (L/n).” Your shoulders immediately relaxed, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“I’ll follow your orders to the end. I’ll get stronger, Narumi-kun–” you hold your tongue. “Ahem, Captain Narumi.”

Finally, he turns to look at you. Maybe if your head wasn’t still pounding and you weren’t so fussy over how the bandages felt wrapped around your head, you’d notice how his gaze softened. “You’re still recovering from your injuries. You’re forbidden to go to the training hall.”

“Eh?” You blinked. “Ah, ok. Yes sir.” You twiddled with your fingers, now embarrassed. Right, you weren’t even supposed to be out and about yet.

As your gaze landed on the floor, you failed to notice Narumi’s sight falling onto your figure, furrowing his expression at your slightly limped stature. You had sustained much more severe wounds than him, even if you were still standing. 

But that was just it, you were still standing, and he was god damn thankful for that.

It was a much better sight than seeing your unconscious, limp body in his hands before you were passed to a stretcher and flooded by paramedics, his sight refusing to leave you even as another pair of medics tried to assess his own condition. 

The heat he felt searing through you as he cradled your unconscious body burned through his own skin as a reminder that you were alive–but you were in bad, bad shape. You had paid the price of increasing your abilities past what your suit could handle, reaching a fever of nearly 40 degrees and immediately requiring an IV drip. he had to bark at Kikoru to keep her distance, under the guise that the paramedics weren’t done with you, that she needed medical attention herself, but he himself knew that wasn’t the full cause of his reasoning. He didn’t want her to see you like this.

You were so unlike yourself, motionless on that stretcher, lacking the life and luster that enveloped you.

It was terrifying.

When the paramedics left and he finally got a moment to himself, all he could do was hunch forward, hands grasping roughly at his scalp. The incident flowed through his mind like a waterfall, from the desecrated face of Isao Shinomiya, the war Kaiju no, 9 had waged against him and humanity, the pained face of his disciple, and lingering feel of your lifeless body cradled against him.

He would never let this happen again.

The elevator shakes a bit as Narumi straightens his gaze.

“And…” Your head perks up again, bright eyes meeting his fuchsia gaze. “Loosen up. I’ve had enough of formalities today.” 

He breathes out your name, in a fervor unheard of from the image of Japan’s strongest. A more boyish, young tone. “Show me results like you did when we first met, (Y/N).”

Your mouth gaped a bit, before the familiar smile you always sported, albeit softer, makes its way back to your face. “At least grieve properly, Gen. I know how much he means to you.”

Maybe it was how you operated, your clockwork, but Gen feels a realization with how a part of him had been laid out to you without him knowing, and with that part alone, you had studied and lived with so graciously, that the way you had softly soothed him with your presence had taken him off guard by how welcoming his subconscious was to it.

You were unlike anyone else he had ever met. No one had ever read him like this.

Even when he was silently processing your words, you simply watched him in understanding, your gaze never making him uncomfortable. He was just so accustomed to your presence.

Had you always been so close, he wonders, when he finally realizes that his fingers had grazed yours. 

Looking at each other in mutual shock, you were the one to recover first, to boldly squeeze his hand with an unspoken vow, to pull him into your presence. To let his grief flow.

It flashes through his mind then, his youth with Isao, all his efforts to earn his gaze, how he fought so hard for results. How he’d never see that damn old man reel back in tears over how much he’s achieved now.

It squeezes his heart.

But at last the memories flow.

And he lets the feel of your warmth meld with his skin, the calloused bumps and slight burn from your bandages rubbing against his own as he finally squeezes back, not even out of his own accord. His fingers moved on their own.

When the moment ends and your touch becomes that of a ghost, Narumi is taken aback by how his hands nearly chased after yours.

He wonders how you feel, but at the ding of the elevator floors, you had awkwardly flitted the topic of the conversation away again, leaving unanswered questions.

“I’ll still oversee Shinomiya’s training. It’s what she needs most.” You stare at the cold doors of the elevator, not really knowing why you’re still letting your mouth run. “I know we both believe in her. She has a bright future ahead.”

You feel Narumi’s gaze land fully on you now. “Exactly why I said what I said. Better not see you slack off and let her catch up to you as fast, (Y/N).”

His tone is lighter now, you note. Your heart fluttered a bit at the more casual honorific too. That relieved you, bringing your smile back. “I have no intention of losing, Gen.” 

The entire incident still felt heavy in both of your hearts, knowing what happened. But as long as you can be there for Narumi, you’ll support him in whatever way he needs.

The elevator dings as you both reach the ground floor. “One more thing.”

You turn to him, blinking. 

“Once you’re healed, report to my office.” He walks out first. “Mr. Isao probably wanted to see this for himself, but–”

“You’re eligible for a numbers suit.”

--

A/N: Whew that was a wild ride.... i might do numbers suit reader or meeting hoshina soon!

The thought of mitsuri! reader fighting on field and hanging on through sheer willpower alone is so admirable... wow, u have a really cool gf gen......... though u dont even have the guts to ask her out yet, wow

[sapphire-writes]

Holiday In The Hamptons

Part 3 of The Campaign

pairing: modern!Aemond x Reader

summary: You join the Targaryen-Hightower family in the Hamptons, determined to get back what Aemond took from you.

word count: 7.2k

rating: 18+/explicit (see details below the cut)

warnings: p in v (explicit sex), oral (fem-recieving), edging, overstimulation, blindfold, restraints, fingering, rough s*x, degradation, begging, kissing, pussy slapping, choking, hand kink, finger sucking, alluding to some Daemon/Rhaenyra targcest, language

note: it's been a while! I have no words-- i was inspired and here is the monster I created, I hope you enjoy!

You’d secretly hoped Rhaenyra would throw out the idea of a family outing after the debate with Aegon went sideways. She’d been graceful, smooth, and calculated as always. And Aegon?

Well, Aegon was Aegon. 

You suppose Otto Hightower had attempted to prep him. But it didn’t stop him from being a pompous asshole through the entirety of the debate. Interrupting, laughing, and dismissing all of Rhaenyra’s arguments with baseline claims of his own. It was hard to watch. 

And yet the public was eating it up. 

Funny, they called him. An arrogant, egotistical, narcissist. But funny. The media was far more forgiving of Aegon than Rhaenyra. You suppose that’s why Aegon made a better frontman than Aemond. He was awfully charismatic. 

Though you just know it was killing Aemond inside to not be the one behind that podium going head to head with Rhaenyra. A battle of wits is Aemond Targaryen’s idea of a great time. He wouldn’t have needed Aegon’s cheap tricks to win the debate. He probably could have bested her (though that killed you to admit). 

“Shrieks Through the Keep,” she read the headline on her phone as you sat in the back of the limousine on the way to the Hamptons, “Rhaenyra Targaryen snaps at Aegon Targaryen during last night’s debate, her reaction reminiscent of her predecessor Maegor Targaryen. Fucking ridiculous.”

Luke sits beside her, Joffrey beside him lost in his Nintendo Switch, furiously pressing buttons and cursing under his breath. Jace and you sit across from them, knees pressed together. You’ve been stiffer around him lately, ever since----

“You did wonderfully,” Daemon had insisted, squeezing Rhaenyra’s knee, “Bunch of stupid cunts.”

Rhaenyra clicks her phone and the screen dims before leaning her head back and closing her eyes. Luke reaches forward, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“It’s only the first debate,” Daemon insists, “The others will be better.”

Rhaenyra lets out a pitiful laugh dropping her head into her hands, pressing her thumbs right under her brow bones. You’ve seen Aemond do the same thing when he’s stressed. Seven save you, can you stop thinking about that asshole?

“Can we talk about something else?” Rhaenyra asks, “Anything else.”

Joffrey pays no attention, his dark curls falling into his eyes, the faint sounds of his game echoing in the small space. Luke’s leg bounces nervously, his eyes darting to you, begging for some help. 

“What’s your favorite memory of Summerhall House?” you ask her, eager to change the subject to something else as well. 

The side of Rhaenyra’s mouth ticks upwards in a small, sad smile. She straightens up, leaning back against the leather seat. Her eyes look past you, searching for a memory. 

“My father brought me here when I was a child,” she tells you, “Every summer we’d come. Just the three of us.”

Daemon watches Rhaenyra carefully as she speaks; his violet eyes never leave her face. You wonder where Daemon had fit in on their family holidays. 

“My father hated the beach, hated it,” Rhaenyra continues through a chuckle, “But my mother loved the ocean. We’d spend hours at a time going back and forth. Swimming, drying out on the sand, going back to the water. Father would watch from the deck, always holed up with his models.”

Daemon takes her hand. You watch a pink blush begin to form on the apples of her cheeks, but she doesn’t pull her hand away. Your throat tightens. Aegon had his fair share of gossip present in the tabloids, but so did Rhaenyra. 

Not a rumor you hope has truth behind it.

But it’s hard to deny when it's happening right in front of you. Still, you remove your gaze from their intertwined hands and rest your head against Jace’s shoulder. 

“You miss him terribly,” Daemon says, thumb stroking the back of Rhaenyra’s hand, “I do as well. He’d be happy that you’re doing this. He always wanted the family together.”

Rhaenyra nods at his words, violet eyes glancing up at her Uncle’s face. He smiles at her softly before turning his head toward you and Jace. You meet his eyes for a brief moment before averting your gaze, heat rushing to your cheeks. 

When you look up, he’s still watching you. You force a tight smile which Daemon Targaryen does not return. He knows you know, your mind teases as a weight settles in your gut. You close your eyes, pressing your face against Jace’s neck inhaling the scent of his cologne. You feel his arm tighten around you. 

“Not long now,” he murmurs, and you hum in response. 

Though you pretend to be asleep for the remainder of the drive, you can feel the fiery gaze of Daemon Targaryen burning through you. 

When you arrive at Summerhall House you’re greeted with laminated itineraries and Alicent Hightower-Targaryen waiting at the front door. She holds one out to you, her brown eyes warm and inviting, auburn curls hanging freely down her back, dressed in an emerald green silk dress that falls just below her knee. 

Though it's been half a year since the death of her husband she doesn’t look the part of a grieving widow. In fact, she appears more radiant than ever. The death of Viserys Targaryen suits her. Her eyebrows crease together as Daemon brushes by her, ignoring the handout. Her eyes move behind you, eyes searching for someone else.

“Where’s Baela and Rhanea?” 

Daemon stops at the decorative table, eyeing the bowl of fruit in the center. Ruby red apples lay piled atop a bed of pears, and fresh mandarins. He reaches for an apple, taking off his sunglasses while inspecting the shiny outer flesh.

“Baela is galavanting around Europe. Last I spoke to her she was in Greece,” he says, biting into the apple, “Rhaena is much too busy preparing for her LSAT to be bothered with this farce.”

Alicent prickles at that, her jaw clenching, and her shoulders straightening. 

“I’m tired,” Daemon announces.

“We’re supposed to have dinner,” Alicent calls as he begins his ascent up the staircase. Her words fall on deaf ears as Daemon continues down the hall until he is out of sight. She sighs, trying to hide her frustration as she turns back to you, “Can I get you anything? Something to drink? The espresso martinis are fabulous.”

Rhaenyra smiles politely, reaching out and squeezing Alicent’s forearm.

“None for me, I’m afraid I’m rather tired as well,” she admits, smiling bashfully, “I think I’ll tuck in for the evening.”

“Luke and Joffrey will share the beach room,” Alicent tells her, “Jace and…” she looks at you, as though remembering you’re present, “Y/N….you’re in the room at the farthest end of the second floor.”

You smile tightly.

“Thank you, Alicent,” you tell her, heading upstairs. As much as you want a drink, you’d rather not be stuck with forced polite conversation with Alicent. 

The following morning is lights, camera, and action. Playing the role of a happy family is non-negotiable today. You meet everyone at breakfast by the pool, under the shade of the veranda. Mimosas, fresh fruit, omelets, and croissants greet you. You sit across from Daemon and Rhaenyra, as Jace pulls your chair out for you, reaching for a chocolate croissant. 

Otto Hightower sits at the head of the table, his gaze icy. You can tell he’s watching Daemon out of the corner of his eye, his tension palpable. 

“Aemond arrived rather late last night,” Daemon says, taking a bite of his omelet, “Though I’ve yet to see Helaena. Where is my niece?” 

You can’t help the rush of stupid warmth that rolls through you. He’s here. Absent at the family breakfast though. Dickhead. 

“Helaena should be joining us this evening,” Alicent says, sipping her mimosa, “I must’ve dozed off, was Floris with Aemond when he arrived?”

Alicent’s eyes are bright, lit up with curiosity. 

You wonder if they get along. It appears Alicent likes her, by the look in her eyes. Through the grapevine, you’d heard that mummy didn’t approve of Aemond’s previous fling. That ended rather quickly. Jealousy creeps through your veins; icy tendrils weaving up your spine. Jace meets your eyes smiling.

“D’you like your croissant?” he asks, his grin lopsided.

“Love it,” you tell him, returning his smile with a much colder one. 

Jacaerys Velaryon is nice. That’s about all there is to him. An easy man to have on your arm. Easily influenced. Easily manipulated. He has potential, for sure. You’d gotten the same look of approval from Rhaenyra that Floris undoubtedly got from Alicent when Jace had brought you home. 

“Believe he said something about her taking the next flight out?” Daemon says, eyebrows cinching together as he tries to remember, “Weather wasn’t cooperating. Something like that. We didn’t engage in further conversation.”

You bite your tongue so you don’t ask where he is. Luke is the one to broach the subject. 

“He coming out today?” he asks, referring to the yacht party planned later that afternoon.

“He’s resting now,” Otto informs Luke, “But everyone is expected to be there. On their best behavior.” He says the words pointedly, through gritted teeth.

You reach for your drink taking a long sip of the tart beverage. Rhaenyra cocks an eyebrow at Otto’s pointed tone, reaching for the water glass beside her plate and taking a sip. 

“Can I have one?” Joffrey asks, eyeing your mimosa.

“In your dreams,” Luke scoffs, causing the younger boy to pout. 

The majority of the morning is spent lying by the pool. You’d put on your swimsuit as soon as breakfast ended, heading back down to get some sun. No sign of Aemond. He must be holed up in his room doing gods knows what. You can’t help the feeling of anticipation that curls in your belly. 

The yacht party is meant to happen that afternoon, and as time creeps closer you decide to take action. The intimate family gathering is not one you need to participate in any way, not like the upcoming party later in the week. There’s unfortunately no way out of that event. 

“I don’t know,” you tell Jace, “You know I get seasick, baby.” You don’t. 

“I don’t want you to get lonely,” he insists, “I’ll stay behind-”

“You go ahead,” you insist, “I’ll be alright. I have a couple of calls to make anyway and I can lounge by the pool.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive,” you tell him, placing a kiss on his cheek, “Seriously, have fun! Bond with everyone.”

Jace is reluctant but doesn’t argue. You wonder if he cares at all, deep down. 

Helaena greets you when she arrives, clad in dark green slacks and a white tank top, a cigarette hanging from her red mouth. You’d only been introduced once before, though you remember her vaguely, a year ahead of you back in school. She’d changed her hair recently, it was cut in a retro shag style, bangs in front of her eyes.

“Jace brought a friend,” she comments, walking towards you, hands in her pockets. 

You turn your head, still spread out in your chaise lounge one foot propped on the seat, an arm thrown under your head. 

“Surprised I’m still around?” you ask, noting the unashamed way Helaena’s eyes drag across your body.

“Nah,” she says, pulling her cigarette from her lips, “More surprised you’re still putting up with him.”

“Hmm,” you hum in response, “You bring anyone?”

“Why, you interested?” she teases, with a grin, “I’m not getting anyone involved with this shit show. You’ve the right idea, staying behind.”

“I don’t like boats,” you tell her.

Helaena drops her cigarette, stamping it out under her foot.

“Mhmm,” she says, eyes unconvinced, “Enjoy your alone time.”

You don’t answer as she retreats back into the house. You hear the muffled voices as everyone begins to leave for the party. Aemond doesn’t come outside, and doesn’t ask why you’re staying behind. You try not to let that vex you, but can’t help it. Sighing, you close your eyes as the sounds of distant voices fade, along with the car engines in the driveway.

Suddenly, an idea strikes as the sun begins to dip below the horizon no longer offering the heat from earlier in the day. Getting up from your spot, you throw on your cover-up and tread into the house. It’s silent, beside the gentle sound of the central air system. 

You need to find your necklace. The one Jace had given you. The one you’d so carelessly left behind during your last rendezvous with Aemond. Jace hadn’t stopped asking about it, and you just knew it gave Aemond some sick sense of power, holding that over you. 

You hurry up the stairs, padding down the hallway until you reach Aemond’s room. You’d heard Alicent mention last night which room he and Floris would be staying in. Taking a deep breath, you open the door. 

Aemond’s room is neat; just as you’d expected. His two suitcases were closed standing side by side at the foot of his bed. White pillows are fluffed to perfection; you doubt Aemond was the one to tend to it. His bedside table is bare save a lamp and a dog-eared book without a dust cover. The title remains a mystery. There’s a matching table on the opposite side with an empty silver dish and a small lap. 

Moving further into his room you stop in front of a large floor-length mirror, trimmed with gold, and spare a moment to shamelessly admire yourself. The Hamptons look good on you. From the afternoon spent in the warm summer sun, your skin already has a luminescent sun-kissed glow. You tilt your head, parting your lips slightly. 

Should’ve brought your phone with you; a selfie in this mirror would be worth a thousand words. You don’t suppose anyone will be back for hours. You can come back later for a little photo shoot. Your mouth quirks into a small smile at the thought of Aemond scrolling through Instagram and seeing you in his room. 

You know exactly how you’ll do it. On your knees, a hand toying with the strings of your bikini bottoms, plush thighs on full display. Your sheer cover-up dangling off of one of your shoulders revealing a delicious amount of skin your bikini top barely covers. Lips curved into a perfect pout.

You just need to find that necklace. 

That would be the icing on the cake. 

Peering into the attached bathroom you note all his hair and skincare products lined up in a neat row across the marble sink. You raise a brow at his perfectionism. 

Anal prick. 

You rummage through the drawers under the sink, most of them practically empty. A hair straightener, a hairbrush, a thin-toothed comb. 

No necklace. 

You growl in frustration slamming the drawer shut. Sitting back on your haunches you place a hand against your forehead. Maybe he didn’t even bring it, I mean, why would he?

You remember the look on his face, the stolen glances. That stupid fucking smirk. Your cheeks flush, warmth creeping down your neck.

He brought it. It’s here somewhere.

You tap your fingers against your knee, hand bouncing nervously. You need to keep looking. Rising from your spot on the floor you make your way back into the room, glancing around. Flinging open the closet doors you paw through suit jackets and trousers letting your hands dip into the pockets of each one. C’mon, it has to be here somewhere---

“What are you doing?” a cool, calm voice asks, sending a shiver down your spine like you’d been dosed in ice water.

Slowly, you turn, meeting the blue and purple eyes of Aemond Targaryen as he leans casually against the doorframe. 

He’s not supposed to be here. 

Yet, here he is. Dressed in gray slacks, and a black button-down pressed to perfection with not a wrinkle in sight. Green tie around his neck as though he’d just come from a meeting. He’s holding a legal pad in his left hand, a pen pinched between his thumb and forefinger. His silver hair pushed back out of his face, rounded glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. You roll your shoulders back and keep your chin up.

“Where is it?”

“Where’s what?” he asks, entering the room. He tosses the legal pad carelessly on the side table before reaching into his back pocket and removing his phone as well. Your eyes narrow as he rolls his sleeves up.

“You know what,” you tell him, tapping your foot against the floor.

Aemond releases a hum, still not answering. He lifts his glasses off of the bridge of his nose, letting them rest on top of his head. 

“Where is it?” you repeat, becoming more impatient with each passing second. 

Aemond doesn’t meet your gaze, instead, he takes a step forward. The bed is the only thing that separates you. He looks up at you then, violet and blue eyes staring into yours intently. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tells you, nonchalantly, “If you’ve misplaced something how is that my problem?”

“It is your problem,” you say through your teeth. Aemond brings his hands in front of his chest, the veins on the back of them prominent. You watch as he slowly removes a ring on his left hand, taking time to twist the silver band from his middle finger. 

Your mouth goes dry as he repeats the movement, twisting the metal that rests on his ring finger. That ring he wears nearly every day, stamped with the Targaryen family crest. He resumes his movements, focusing on the ring that remains on his right hand. A small silver band around his thumb. When it's free, he holds his hand out across the bed. 

An offering. 

You’re not sure what compels you to reach forward, holding your palm open-faced under his. He uncurls his fingers, rings falling into your awaiting palm. He hasn’t touched you and yet your whole body feels flushed. 

You close your fingers around the cold rings, pulling your hand away. Aemond jerks his chin, motioning toward the nightstand beside you. You turn, placing the rings haphazardly in the small empty silver dish. They clang loudly against it and Aemond stares at you disapprovingly.

“Are you going to give it back, or not?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest once more. 

“Why are you here?” he asks, ignoring your question and walking to the edge of the bed.

“I get seasick,” you lie to him as you did to Jace.

Aemond merely chuckles, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He reaches to the top of his head, removing his glasses, and placing them on his dresser. A lock of silver hair falls in front of his eyes as he turns back to you, mirroring your pose.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe what you want,” you snap, “What are you doing here?”

“I had work to finish,” he says with a shrug. Aemond’s hands drop to his belt, and he begins to undo it. “So I decided to stay behind.” 

The hairs on your arms stand up and heat rushes to your face, and the top of your chest. You suddenly become very aware of how trapped you are on this side of the room. You’d have to climb over the bed if you wanted to leave. 

You glance at the door as Aemond pulls his belt free of the loops of his slacks. A sharp whine echoes in the room as the leather rubs against the fabric. 

Your attention turns back on Aemond, you watch as he tosses the belt onto the bed. You swallow the lump beginning to form in your throat. 

Aemond takes a slow step, rounding the corner of the bed. You don’t say anything as he walks closer, nor when he brings a large hand to rest against your outer thigh. He’s barely applying any pressure, you can just feel the heat of his large palm against you. Your lips part slightly at the sensation. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks again, letting his fingers trail up your thigh, “Hmm?” His fingers curl under the strap of your bathing suit bottom, snapping it against your hip. You flinch slightly at the light sting. 

You inhale a deep breath, looking up at the chiseled features of his face. 

“I want my necklace back.”

The perfect pout of his lips curl at the edges, a satisfied smirk appearing. 

“Well then you’re going to have to work for it,” he tells you, his voice rough and commanding. 

To your despair, heat rushes to your core at the authoritative tone of his voice and the feeling of his hand still on your upper thigh. You hate admitting it, but you’d been thinking about that afternoon in the hotel ever since it had happened. Getting off to the memory of it, nearly every night. 

“We’re not doing this again,” you tell him as his opposite hand finds your waist. He swipes his thumbs against your hip bones, squeezing into the soft flesh. He’s so close, your crossed forearms graze against the fabric of his button-down. You shake your head, “I hate you.”

Aemond tilts his head back, not releasing his grip on you. Your arms uncross on their own accord, and you bring your hands to his tie. Your fingers work the knot, loosening it and removing it from his neck. You toss the green fabric onto the bed, moving to the buttons of his shirt. 

“Say it again,” he murmurs, fingers digging into you hard enough to leave bruises. He pulls you closer, his nose bumping against your cheek. 

“I hate you,” you breathe, working through all the buttons. Aemond chuckles darkly as you tear open his shirt, revealing the hard planes of his chest. 

You drag your fingers down between his pectorals, tracing in between the muscles of his abdomen. They flex under your soft touch. Aemond releases your hips to shrug off his shirt, abandoning the material on the floor. 

You watch it pool at his feet, before his hand finds the back of your neck, pulling you flush against him, capturing your lips in a punishing kiss. It’s brutal; all clashing teeth and tongues as he keeps one hand securely on the back of your neck, the other tearing at the thin material of your coverup until it falls to the floor. 

His free hand drags down your side before settling on your ass; it’s so large he encompasses the cheek nearly entirely, squeezing the soft flesh harshly and dragging a gasp from your throat. He backs you up toward the bed, kissing you all the while. You can’t think when he kisses you, all you can focus on is the feeling of him. It’s nothing but hot, burning need pulsating through your veins. 

Aemond pushes you, none too gently, onto the bed before climbing on top of you. His hands roam down your body, your back arching at his touch. 

He leans back on his haunches, reaching for the belt. You can see evidence of his arousal straining against his slacks, his eyes hungrily raking over your scantily clad form as you gaze up at him through your lashes. 

“Wrist up.” 

You breathe heavily, before doing what he asks, placing both your arms above your head. Aemond loops the belt around your wrists, binding them to the metal rod of his headboard. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest, and the ache between your thighs grows. Aemond’s eyes flicker to your face as he tugs the bindings. The smirk that appears on his face says one thing.

You’re not going anywhere.

“You need me to stop,” he says, as he moves away from you, “You need to be untied. You want this to be over; you say keligon.” 

“What’s that mean?” you ask, your voice sounding breathier and more desperate than you’d have liked it to.

“It’s High Valyrian,” he tells you, “You say that, I’ll untie you. I’ll stop.” Aemond returns to you, grasping your chin in his hand, “What do you say if you want me to stop?”

You stare into his eyes, surprised by his seriousness. “Keligon.”

“Good girl,” he says, lightly tapping your cheek with his fingers as he releases his hold. 

Aemond reaches for his discarded necktie. He smoothes the material in his hands before bringing it to your face. Your eyes widen as you realize his intentions, but you make no move to stop him. You allow it. 

You want it. 

The tie sits perfectly against your eyes, blocking any semblance of light. All your other senses feel heightened, your skin feels electric. You can’t see him, can only feel the bed shifting from his weight as he moves above you, making sure it’s tied snuggly around your head. Suddenly, you feel his slender fingers, dragging down the strap of your bikini top, taking his sweet time before he reaches the knot that sits in the valley between your breasts. 

“Cute suit,” he murmurs, fingers fiddling with the knot, “You bring this one just for me?”

You can feel the material give, your breasts releasing back to their natural state as the knot comes completely undone. Aemond drags his fingers over the material lazily exposing your tits to him. He hums appreciatively as the cool air makes your nipples pebble. 

“I have a boyfriend,” you tell him, earning a chuckle. 

“You do?” he murmurs, dragging his fingers down your sternum, over the sensitive skin of your stomach. You take your lower lip between your teeth, skin erupting in goosebumps. You already want to pull against the restraints, wriggle, and thrash away from his teasing hands. 

“My poor nephew,” he muses, tugging at the straps of your bottoms, “He fuck you like I do?”

You haven’t slept with Jace. It’s not really part of your arrangement. Not that Aemond needs to know.

“You fuck Floris like you fuck me?” you challenge. Aemond’s hands pause their movements.

Just like earlier, a wave of jealousy rolls through you. Envy churns in your stomach, and you clench your jaw. 

“Floris and I are colleagues,” Aemond says slowly. He sounds as though he’s choosing his words very carefully. 

“You don’t have to baby me,” you lie, “I’m a big girl, I understand this world.”

Aemond is silent for a moment, and you wonder if he’ll push the subject more. He’s still for so long you nearly tap out, keligon on the tip of your tongue when suddenly he finishes removing your bathing suit bottoms. Completely naked before him, tied up like a summer holiday present, your body trembles with anticipation. 

Stop being jealous, you tell yourself, feeling him move on top of you once more. It’s just sex. Fucking good sex. That’s all it has to be. 

Aemond trails wet, hot kisses down your neck, his greedy hands digging into your thighs keeping you spread open so he can rest between them. He’s still wearing pants, you can feel the fabric against your thighs, and pressing against your bare pussy, the sensation driving you insane. 

His mouth trails lower, settling on your right breast, his tongue circling your pebbled nipple. Your back arches off of the bed, hands pulling against your restraints. The leather tightens against your wrists, digging into them painfully. 

Your lips part and a breathy moan escapes your lips as he sucks on your breast. Your legs wrap around his slender waist, desperately trying to get some friction to relieve the ache between your thighs. Your clit drags against the front of his slacks, grinding against his bulge sending sparks of pleasure dancing through your body. You’re nearly pulsating with need as he releases your tit with a wet pop, humming in satisfaction. 

Aemond drags his lips through the valley of your breasts, before repeating his attentions. He moans-fucking moans---as he bites at your tender nipple, ripping a cry from deep in your chest. 

“Look at you grinding against me,” he comments, as your hips buck upwards attempting to meet him, “That wet little pussy is making such a mess on me right now.” 

Your face burns at his comment, but you can’t see what he means. You can only feel how desperately wet you are, the slickness coating your inner thighs. You thrash against your restraints and hear him click his tongue.

“Poor baby,” he says, with mock sympathy, sucking harshly against the side of your breast. He brings his free hand to play with your unattended nipple, tweaking it harshly. 

You’re not sure if it’s the extra attention he’s giving your tits or the blindfold, but you can feel the tension in your gut growing tighter, heat building in your core. You bite your lip, whining desperately, back arching. Aemond lets out a breathless laugh, never stopping his ministrations with your nipple, capturing the other with his lips once more. 

“Are you gonna cum?” he murmurs against your breast and you curse at the vibration it causes, “You better not….you hear me?” Aemond drags his lips over your breast, trailing them up your neck and just below your ear.

His hand leaves your opposite breast, finding its way under your head and tangling in your hair. He tugs the roots harshly, pinpricks of pain and pleasure trickling down your neck as you whimper. Aemond’s breath is hot against your ear as he speaks. 

“You better not fucking cum, you hear me?” he growls, “Not until I tell you to. You can do that, can’t you?” His hand tightens in your hair.

“Yes,” you gasp, “Yes-fuck!”

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, rewarding you with a kiss, “Fuck, you have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”

Your cheeks flush, heat rushing to your face at his words. You twist against your restraints as he kisses down your torso once more. 

“I should’ve been more specific,” he muses, kissing right below your belly button, “You’re not cumming unless I’m feeling generous enough to let you.” He kisses the top of your hip bone, squeezing the other side. 

“Is that clear?”

Nothing feels clear, your whole body is on fire. The embers of your previous denied orgasm burn brightly in your throbbing center. Aemond moves lower, pressing your thighs back against the bed. You can feel his breath fanning on your soaked center. 

A sharp slap stings against your dripping pussy and you cry out.

“You’re not nonverbal yet, are you?” he asks with mock concern, “I’ve barely scratched the surface.”

“No,” you tell him, “I mean, yes. Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” he says, pressing a kiss on top of your mound before dipping his tongue lower, spreading through your silky, wet folds. 

Aemond moans at the taste, dipping lower and letting his tongue tease at the opening of your clenching pussy. His tongue just breaches the tight muscle of your entrance, nose brushing against your aching clit. 

“Fuck,” you mewl as he presses his tongue further inside of you groaning as you clench around the warm, wet muscle. 

He murmurs something, even though his face is buried in your pussy and you can’t even attempt to understand him. All you can do is tug against the restraints and moan pitifully as he has his way with you. Your legs tremble, thighs aching as he presses them back further into the mattress. He decides to release them, bringing his hands under your ass and lifting you slightly off the bed to press even further against your core. 

Aemond removes his tongue to your displeasure, placing an open-mouthed, wet kiss on your pussy, dragging his lips and tongue to circle your clit with slow, calculated strokes. 

“Seven--fuck!” you cry, legs shaking around him as he gently caresses your sensitive button, another chuckle leaving him at your desperation. 

“Oh baby,” he says softly, pressing two long fingers inside of you, “You look so pathetic when you try not to cum.”

“Fu-uck,” you cry as he curls his fingers, beginning to fuck you with them. The wetness between your thighs, paired with the words he’s speaking to you make you flush with humiliation. 

You’ve never been this wet before, not for anyone. You can hear it, hear him fucking you with his fingers. The gentle squishing sounds of your soaked pussy fill the room. 

“You’re so fucking tight,” he comments, rubbing against your g-spot. Your spine arches, mouth dropping open, a wanton cry leaving your lips. “Oh, that’s such a good girl.” 

“I think you can take one more, what do you think?” he asks, “C’mon, beg me. Use that big brain of yours, find the words.”

“Yes, yes please,” you beg, “Please give me another, I need another--” you’re cut off as Aemond slips a third digit into your pussy, fucking you with his fingers relentlessly.

“Please let me cum,” you beg, feeling him sit up as he continues to finger you. 

“No,” he says sternly, placing a kiss on your stomach. 

“Please, plea-”

“I said no.”

A frustrated, guttural moan leaves you and Aemond keeps going. You’re terrified for a moment, legs shaking uncontrollably, knowing you won’t be able to stop the wave of pleasure cresting inside of you. Luckily, by some saving grace, Aemond slows his movements, before carefully removing his soaked fingers from your fluttering cunt. 

Disappointment courses through you at another ruined orgasm, followed by the relief of not going against Aemond’s wishes. You can feel tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, dampening the fabric of the makeshift blindfold. 

You feel his soaked fingers press at your lips, parting them as they dip inside your hot mouth. You moan at the taste of your arousal, sucking the lengthy digits much like you did that first night inside the coat closet. 

“Gods you’re so perfect like this,” Aemond croons, his opposite hand moving some sweat-coated hair from your damp forehead, “So eager to please.”

Defiance prickles under your skin and you fight the urge to bite down on his fingers; not hard, but enough. You feel Aemond stiffen as though he can read your thoughts, and feel his hand yank the blindfold from your eyes. You blink, adjusting to the light as he pulls his fingers from your mouth. 

He reaches up, fiddling with the belt, releasing your wrists. Arms sore, you bring them to your chest, hugging them against your breasts. You can’t help but pout, and Aemond watches you carefully, eyes narrowing. 

“Tell you what,” he muses, taking your wrists in his hands and massaging them gently, “I’m feeling rather generous today. Even though you broke into my room, and went snooping through my belongings.”

You watch him carefully, chest heaving. Aemond continues to massage your wrists, eyes glued to your breasts, watching them rise and fall with each breath you take. You swallow, eyes dropping to his erection that strains against his slacks. Your cheeks burn as you notice the wet patch on the front, no doubt caused by you grinding against him. 

“I’ll give you the necklace,” he says, letting go of your wrists and curling his hands around the meat of your upper thighs, “Or I’ll let you cum. Your choice.”

You clench at his words, clit throbbing desperately between your legs. You want to cum so badly that it's nearly painful. You whine pitifully as he squeezes your thighs. 

“I’ll let you think about it,” he assures you, that stupid smirk reappearing on his face, “On your hands and knees, get that pretty pussy in the air.”

Aemond releases you sliding off the bed and undoing his trousers. Shaking, you turn over, propping yourself on your hands and knees. You feel Aemond’s hands once more as he maneuvers you on the bed, fisting your hair and yanking your head up. 

Your eyes meet your reflection in the grand mirror, Aemond naked behind you, his well-endowed cock fully hard and weeping. He brings his lips to your ear. 

“I want you to watch,” he whispers, releasing his grip on your hair. 

He moves instead to spread your ass cheek, opening you wide for him. You feel his cock press against you, the fat head sliding through your soaked folds, dragging it teasingly from your center to your clit. 

“Aemond,” you whimper, “Please--”

Slowly he sinks into your wet heat; the girth of him stretching you out deliciously. Your whole body trembles, your head falling forward as he bottoms out; your walls pulsating around him. Aemond runs his hands over the swell of your ass, down your sides before taking both wrists in his large hands and pulling you backward. The force drags your head up, meeting his eyes in the mirror once more.

“I told….you….to….watch,” he says, punctuating each word with a hard slap of his hips against your ass; cock sliding easily in and out of your soaked pussy. 

Small mewls leave your lips as he continues to hold you, never losing the rhythm of the brutal pace he’s set. 

“Why’d you want that horrid thing back anyway?” Aemond asks, sounding displeased, “I gave you a necklace the last time we saw each other.”

Your eyes are wide, tears threatening to spill over from the pleasurable current roaring in your belly. Aemond smirks at your lack of response, releasing your arms. They fall limply to the bed, and you force your shaky forearms to keep yourself propped up. 

“Don’t you remember?” he asks, fingers digging into your thighs, “You ungrateful little slut.” 

You do remember, how could you possibly forget? You’d had to take another shower to remove his warm, sticky spend from your neck and chest. 

“Perhaps you’d like a new one,” Aemond muses, leaning on top of you, and wrapping his hands around your neck.

Not one, but both of them rest comfortably around your throat, flexing along the sides. His cock continues to slide effortlessly in and out of your tight, wet heat; cockhead rubbing incessantly against your sensitive walls and bullying your sweet spot. 

You try to say his name, try to find any words, but they come out a garbled, breathless moan.

“Do you like it?” Aemond asks, flexing his hands against your throat, “Don’t you look so pretty?”

His hands---gods his hands---look fucking perfect around your neck, as tears spill freely down your cheeks. His veins are prominent on the back of his hands, even more so when he flexes them, slightly cutting off your air supply. You’re too light-headed and cock drunk to answer him with anything other than a wanton, breathy moan. 

“Thank me,” he murmurs, rutting against you. The coil in your gut winds tighter and tighter.

“Wha--” you manage, mind clouded by lust.

“Thank me for your gift,” he says, flexing his fingers for emphasis. He tightens his grip momentarily, before releasing some pressure, allowing you the opportunity to answer him. 

Aemond lifts a brow expectantly, slowly rolling his hips against you. 

“Thank you,” you gasp, “Thank you, Aemond.”

Aemond hums appreciatively, fucking you with renewed enthusiasm. You close your eyes, squeezing them shut, trying to stop the roaring of blood rushing in your ears, your orgasm speeding toward you at full force.

“You’re close aren’t you?” he grunts, “What’ll it be, baby?”

“Please, please I wanna cum,” you whine, “Please let me cum, fu-uck!” 

Aemond pulls you up flush against his chest as soon as you say the words, fucking up into you. He keeps one hand on your throat, the other dipping between your legs to rub circles around your clit. 

“That’s it, fucking cum all over my cock,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “That’s a good little slut, there you go.”

Your body tense, legs shuddering as you’re thrown into your release, the coil in your gut snapping as you clench around his thick cock. You’re crying from the intensity, a desperate sob escaping you at the prolonged release. As your high subsides, Aemond releases you, turning you on your back.

Your whole body tingles as he climbs on top of you, sliding back into your fluttering pussy in one smooth motion. You gasp as his cock rubs against your g-spot, as he lazily begins thrusting into you once more.

“Aem-mond,” you moan, as he slings one leg over his shoulder, spreading you wider.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he scolds, smirking as he slings your other leg over his shoulder, making himself a necklace of his own, “You wanted to cum so bad, you can do it again, can’t you?”

Your mouth is open in a silent scream, watery eyes looking up at him, drinking in the satisfied smirk he wears. Your whole body tenses, the beginning of another orgasm building in your abdomen. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he taunts, “C’mon don’t stop now. You’ve been such a good little slut for me, you deserve it.”

“Please, please-”

“Yes you do,” he croons, “There you go. I feel this little pussy tightening around me. Squeezing me so good.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders, a strangled cry leaving your lips as his thumb brushes against your swollen clit, sending you over the edge once more. Aemond doesn’t slow his hips, he keeps fucking you into the mattress as you’re pretzled over him.

“That’s a good girl,” he sing-songs, balls slapping against your ass as he increases the pace of his thrusts, “Don’t stop now, it feels so good doesn’t it?”

A sharp cry leaves your lips and you force yourself to nod, unable to formulate words in your blissed-out state. Euphoria pulses through your veins and floods your body with warmth. It’s like you’re burning with pleasure, your entire being aflame. 

“I can’t,” you moan, though your body betrays you. You can feel the tightening sensation in your gut, the tingling feeling of another orgasm building. 

“Yes you can,” Aemond insists, “C’mon you wanted it so bad, you greedy little thing. Take it, c’mon fucking take it.”

Your thighs shake around his neck, and Aemond’s jaw slacks as you clench around him. 

“Yes, oh fu-uck, yes!,” you whimper, and Aemond’s cock twitches inside you as you’re thrown over the edge once more making your vision go white. 

Aemond thrusts a few more times before you feel his cock pulsate, and warmth blooms deep in your abdomen. He lets out a grunt as he finishes, followed by an elongated moan that sends a shiver down your spine right down to your core. His head falls against your shoulder, peppering the damp flesh with soft kisses. 

He stays like that for a moment, before moving off of you. 

“Don’t move,” he says, walking toward the bathroom. 

You couldn’t if you wanted to. You hear the water run and watch as Aemond returns with a damp washcloth. His cock sways as he walks toward you, glistening with your release. Gently, he cleans you up, taking care to avoid your abused clit. 

After several moments, you find your bearings. Reality hits you, and you grab your swimsuit, throwing it back on hastily. 

“This can’t happen again,” you insist, though your trembling legs betray you, “Not with everyone here-”

“You’re not really in a position to make demands,” Aemond says, matter-of-factly.

“Excuse me?”

“I like this arrangement,” he tells you, “Both you and I are in relationships that benefit the family. That’s fine, dutiful even.” Aemond brushes a lock of hair from your face, letting his hand rest on your cheek, “That doesn’t mean we need to deny ourselves.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You can barely think with his hands on you. You bring your hand up quickly, slapping him away. Aemond gives nothing away; no flash of hurt or rejection is evident on his chiseled face. 

“I’m not denying anything,” you tell him, the lie bitter-tasting.

Aemond only stares those blue and violet eyes of his boring into yours. His gaze reignites the fire in your belly, the primal want aching deep in your bones. 

Motherfucker. 

You hate him. 

You hate him.

Yet you want him all the same. 

“I don’t believe you,” he says softly.

“Believe what you want,” you tell him, “Jace is good for me. He’s a good person.”

“Ah yes, Jacaerys Velaryon. Your conversations must be thrilling,” he says, stepping closer to you, “I know you. Whether you like it or not, whether you admit it or not. I know what makes your brain tick inside that pretty little head of yours. You may fool the press, hells you may fool the rest of the family; but you can’t fool me.”

You don’t answer him. Ignoring the tight feeling in your chest you simply grab your cover-up and throw it around your shoulders leaving his room.

note: as always, likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated, but never expected! if you'd like to be notified when I post please follow and turn on notifications for @sapphire-writes-updates in lieu of a taglist!

[stqrgirlie0]

⋆✮theodore nott-pt 3✮⋆

part 1 / part 2 / part 4 theodore’s most nightmarish memory that he remembers was of the week of his mothers death. angry men dressed in black would patrol the hallways, occupy the dining room and take up every ounce of what theo used to call his home. night after night theo would toss and turn in his bed, struggling to sleep with deranged laughter echoing from downstairs. he hated his father, he truly did, but theo couldn’t deny how his heart quenched when he heard his father’s blood curdling scream reverberating through the empty halls one night. despite being only 8 years of age, theo knew what it meant. his fathers loyalty didn’t lie with him or with the name of Nott, but instead with you know who. not only did this fuck theo up a lot, it also fostered a fear of abandonment and trust issues- explaining why he stayed away from relationships for the beginning of his school life. the week flew by and suddenly he lost both his mother and his father, a pain that he would never want to inflict on anyone; not even his worst enemy. narcissa, knowing of Theo’s hardships and struggles, tried her best to keep theo distracted and welcomed into the Malfoy family. (4th year) theo and Draco eventually slightly drifted off, leading their own lives, Draco focused more on his relationship with Astoria, while theo focused on his friendship with Mattheo. Draco was a great friend to Theo, but things eventually get harder when you can’t relate about anything with the other person. Theo came from a severely broken family, whereas Draco didn’t. Draco had a shitty father as well I’ll admit that, but despite both of the father’s prioritising you know who’s desires, Lucius still provided for Draco. better still, he provided the best for Draco whereas Theo’s father only just provided the bare minimum for theo. Mattheo saw right through Theo’s facade of being “okay”, because Mattheo remembered when he was in the same position. not okay, no one to talk to, no family, nothing. having someone to talk to whenever he wanted, about whatever he wanted was a lot of help for theo, instead of bottling up his feelings, he was able to express them and talk about them. and this is what lead to your first interaction with theo.

It was about 10:30pm, half an hour after curfew, and instead of being in bed and getting sleep, you were wandering the halls ‘getting fresh air’ as you told pansy and Daphne. the atmosphere was eerily quiet, apart from the occasional creak of floorboards under your feet, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of loneliness. dim torches flickered along the stone walls, casting elongated shadows that danced and swayed with every rush of air. the portraits lining the corridors were silent, their occupants fast asleep or watching your journey with curious eyes. you moved cautiously, the echo of your footsteps reverberated through the empty corridors, as you made your way to the scary stairs of the astronomy tower. unknowingly walking in on theo, his head lifted up and you immediately stopped in your tracks. the moonlight travelled in through the open space, casting ethereal beams onto theo’s face. a breathtaking view.

‘looking for someone?’ he snapped you out of your thoughts. you slowly moved towards the bench he sat on. ‘no, just getting a bit of fresh air,’ you internally cringed at the floorboard creaking beneath your feet as you took a seat on the same bench. ‘what are doing here?’ ‘waiting for Mattheo.’ he says, burning holes through you with his intense gaze. ‘oh, do you want me to leave so th-’ ‘No need, stay.’ as you sat beside theo on the bench, the tension between you and him was solid in the silent night air. his gaze was intense, almost analysing, and you found yourself momentarily at a loss for words. you looked away, admiring the beautiful night sky. theo's presence, unexpected yet strangely comforting, filled the night with a new sense of intimacy. you stole a glance at him, the moonlight tracing the contours of his face, casting shadows that accentuated his features. there was a vulnerability to him in this moment, something that both intrigued and captivated you. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound being the soft rustle of the night breeze through the open space. you found yourself drawn to theo, to the mystery that surrounds him, and the unspoken connection that seemed to exist between you.

breaking the silence, you finally mustered the courage to speak. "why are you waiting for Mattheo?" you asked, curiosity lacing your words.

theo's expression softened slightly at your question, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features. "just... needed to talk to him about something," he replied vaguely, his eyes never leaving yours. you nod, sensing that there was more to his answer than he was letting on, an unspoken understanding between you two spoke louder than his words. as the silence stretched between you and theo, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted the silence of the night. you both turned your heads towards the entrance of the astronomy tower, where Mattheo appeared, his figure outlined by the moonlight filtering in.

there was a moment of surprise followed by a warm smile as Mattheo spotted you and theo sitting together. "Hey, what are you two doing here?" he asks, his tone curious but friendly.

"oh nothing, think I'll leave you two to catch up," you said your voice light but tinged with a hint of reluctance. "nice seeing you theo, bye Mattheo.”

you turned on your heel and made your way towards the exit of the astronomy tower, the sound of their voices echoing behind you. As you stepped out into the cool night air, a sense of relief washed over you, grateful for the chance to retreat into the peace of the castle.

following from this interaction, your relationship with theo blossomed into a genuine ‘friendship’. within the classroom; friendly rivals and behind closed doors; two lovers. to the student eye, glances were stolen, banters were laughed at and comebacks were retorted. but only you two knew how hands were joined, kisses were stolen and clothes were removed (🤭)

everything about theo in a relationship was perfection, he was respectful, loving and warm-hearted- everything you could ever want in a man.

#okay idk where i went with this one😭😭 #idk if y’all want a pt 4 but if you guys do I wouldn’t mind taking in suggestions of what you’d want me to include! #if you have suggestion for pt 4 do send it in an ask🙏🙏 #would be much appreciated bcs I’m running out of ideas ibsr #love y’all xoxo

taglist: @iamgayforyourmom1510 @lovelyygirl8

[y11irfilm]

violet – chapter 3

qimir x f!reader | chapter 1, chapter 2 & chapter 4

summary: she had no direction. a nomad who didn't choose a side. but when a vision makes her save people, she has to face her mind in the worst way possible: on a planet made of water with the man who reminds her of her past.

content: deaths, many mentions of blood, power bond, a kind of “chosen one”, dark past, sexual tension, dark confessions | wc: 1600+

notes: hello, i’m afraid to post this new chapter for having rewritten so many times that i even lost count, but i loved how i was with the ideas of the story from the first part and you deserved to know about — english is not my first language!

I remember the feeling. I was disbelieved. I should have seen it coming, saved her from his hands. But how would she save her if she didn't even want to be saved? Finding her on the shores of the sea, as she swam against her own blood. I remember running to hold her in my arms, feeling her cold skin, the sand mixing with her blood and her lost gaze while she was still able to look at me. I put my hand on her face, not knowing how to help her. I was just a teenager who was learning to swim.

"Mother."

Her brown eyes.

I still see them.

I looked up, asking for some kind of help. Tears were uncontrolled on my face. Please save her. “Try to love him, he deserves salvation.” I heard it in the back of my mind. Flashes followed my mind. Young people walking on the sea marches, hands clasped with smiles on their faces. My parents.

I shook my head. "No, I can not."

His eyes piercing, trembling and dead. She was dead in my arms.

"Why? Why does he deserve salvation?”

The food looked good. She started drinking what was in the pot, it had been a while since she had eaten something hot. Just a few seconds after Qimir gave the pot, she returned it. He watched as she walked around the cave, looking everywhere with some kind of admiration in her eyes. 

A few days had passed on the island, each day being in a working-class mode. Qimir watched his partner walk around the corners of the island every day, especially the beach. Him sitting next to the water and letting time pass while watching the sea. From the third day onwards, she started asking for his company on her walk to the beach, even though they knew they wouldn't say a word to each other.

“Can we go look at the sea again?” She asked without looking at him.

Qimir tried but got no answers in his thoughts as to why. Her thoughts were racing. "Of course."

They walked side by side as before. The ocean being the only communicator of the moment. The dark sky and stars being a backdrop for feelings. She hadn't brought up the subject of her attack and the fatal kiss, and she didn't seem to want to. Her thoughts meant something, he felt.

She stopped and sat down on the sand, watching Qimir do the same. Grabbing a handful of sand in your hand. “I always liked being close to the sea. Where I lived was close to the water.” She gradually crushed the sand, watching each piece of sand fall to the ground. “I remember always training with my father on the beach. Feeling my feet sinking into the sand, the cold wind ruffling my hair, and the pressure of knowing I could train as much as I wanted, he would always see me as weak.”

She sighed loudly, the memories were painful. Remembering her adolescence only made her think that she was still weak.

“But he loved me, so he knew it was for my good. He was a great Jedi, certainly the best, but he was devoted to his family. He left emotion behind for the comfort of a heart.”

“I'm still haunted by my mother's eyes. To feel her blood running through my fingers. Rocking a dead body in my arms.” She let out a sort of laugh. “She allows me to see the visions, she lives on in my mind.” She turned her head, looking at Qimir. “My mother brought me to meet her.”

Qimir approached her, letting her hand reach out and place it above her. Sliding his fingers over her hand in a caress, he wanted her to feel comfort.

“He felt so much love for her. He killed her, wishing they would meet in her dreams.”

Flashes and more flashes appeared in his mind.

“Let’s go back, please.” She pushed his hand away, getting up, starting to take steps back to the cave. Qimir got up from where he was.

“Did you kill your father?”

She stopped, without looking back.

"Yes." — “He didn’t deserve salvation.” He heard her voice in his thoughts. Her voice being dark. Qimir couldn't remember the last time a person could enter their mind and say words to them.

She turned to Qimir. “You remember him. Every part of your existence reminds you of him. That’s why I’m here.”

“That night I didn’t just kill a Jedi, I killed my mother’s love.”

She ruffled her hair, feeling immense frustration. “She preferred to die than love her daughter!” She screamed until her throat hurt. Her voice being heard throughout that island. “A woman who didn't want children and a man who was destined for evil. Now I ask you, what would come of this?”

Qimir observed how the waves moved, at an almost uncontrolled frequency. Was her. He was impressed.

She looked up at the sky, watching the stars. “They were afraid I would turn out like my father.”

"And you are not?"

Her blood bubbled just with the doubt of being compared to her father. She walked a few steps until she was face to face with him.

“I would rather stick a knife in my chest than become like him.”

“Why so afraid?”

“He was a monster.” She felt Qimir's hand fit around hers again.

“But didn’t you love him?” Her mind became cloudy, she closed her eyes.

"I love."

“I remember seeing it happen, the first vision. My mother was watching the waves like all morning, so he walked up behind her, hugged her and pushed the knife into her stomach. The first stab, then one more and many others until I felt her body fall into the sand.”

“They both knew what would happen and the only person who felt angry was me. I denied it, and I denied it until the last second that he would. He’s my father, why would he do this to his family?” She shook her head, still refusing. Qimir wrapped his arms around her, pressing her body to his.

“Is it possible for you to be him? She saw you, she chose you.”

“But I didn’t choose her.” He pulled away so he could look into her eyes. "I chose you. My eyes are on you.”

“How can you choose her?” The voice in her mind again, Qimir took a step back. 

The water continued until it reached their feet even though he knew they were at a safe distance from the sea, the clouds in the sky closing in around them indicating an upcoming rain, the waves becoming more and more aggressive and her eyes in a long, dark void. He knew she was losing her senses and letting the other take over.

He placed his arms on top of hers, swaying from both sides to see any reaction.

“Hey, I need you here. Don’t let her say it for you, she doesn’t have that right.” Qimir tried to see her in his mind, but it seemed like a lost cause. He felt the waves reaching her knees.

Nothing.

Not a muscle moved. She looked deep into his eyes, but it wasn't her. They were piercing, trembling and dead. Qimir felt as lost as she did. He remembered the same feeling some time ago. Then something clicked in his mind.

He slowly placed his hands on either side of her neck. "I saw you. So many times. Your warm hug, your words in my ear, your lips pressed to mine and your beautiful eyes looking at me. My heart burned. Then I would wake up and every time I would feel like I was in a maze with no answers, a lost navigator.” Qimir pressed his forehead to hers, releasing a sigh that had been stored for some time. “Please, come on. Come back to me."

Get back to someone?

My heart burned.

Did I deserve to go back to someone? Do my father and I deserve salvation? No, no, no.

But I looked at her face and my heart burned.

My heart was beating fast, like the waves of this strange night. I was beating for him. By Qimir.

“Qimir.”

She felt the strength in her body giving out and she slowly began to fall to her knees and hit the sandy ground. He joined her on the floor, enveloping her in a hug. She pressed her head on his chest, slowly calming her breathing, letting her hear Qimir's heart beating. Qimir placed one of his hands on her head and his fingers massaged her hair.

She walked away for a few seconds remembering the past moments, her consciousness away to let her mother take control. Placing his hands on either side of the man's face to assess him. "Everything is fine with you? Did she do something to you? I should have foreseen how this would affect my connection with her.” She stopped talking for a few seconds, with her nervousness and worry getting louder, not realizing how fun this was being for him, opening a small smile.

“Hey, I'm fine.” She sighed, lowering her hands from his face.

“I felt so, so scared.”

They spent a few seconds looking at each other.

A smile appeared on her face, she was just happy that he was okay even after being put in this hurricane.

The difference was frightening. As her beautiful brown eyes were shining like a sun star, he wanted to drown in them. He wished she could fight everything, he wished he could accompany her across the galaxy. Her heart burned again.

Qimir closed his eyes and slowly began to explore her face with his nose. Hearing some small giggles coming out of her throat. Not even the water wetting them could erase how a simple laugh warmed the man's entire body. He wanted the moment to continue forever.

[insomniakisses]

Reader comforting aegon cuz he's just so broken after the treatment he's been through 🤠

A Lovers Comfort

Character: Aegon Targaryen (HOTD)

Warnings/Notes: mentions of parental neglect/abuse, Viserys slander, mild Alicent slander (i love her tho), soft hubby Aegon, your Rhaenyra's daughter (you can chose adopted or not), war doesnt happen, aemond still looses his eye.

When you where first told you where to marry Aegon you were worried to say the least. Having heard many stories from your brothers and mother, not to mention the not so fond memories of him when you were all kids. But it had been years now, surely he had matured into a man? Perhaps he hadn't with the outrage you could see of your mother's face, your whole family's faces.

Yes, your mother had long ago proposed Jace marry Helaena, to solidify the bonds between the greens and blacks. But to her this? This was different. You were her baby, her only girl and she couldn't let them take you from her. Make you bare his children. No she had to stop this.

Which led to now, all of you on dragon back heading to kingslanding. Your mother and Daemon leading on Syrax and Caraxes, while you and your brothers followed. Being greeted by the king and queen upon landing you remained silent as you were all led inside.

There you watched as your mother and Daemon enter the council meetings room along with the king and Alicent, Your brothers being sent to the training grounds and Aemond accompanying his wife, Helaena back to their chambers with a soft nod to you. Leaving you alone with a half drunken Aegon.

"You don't want me." he laughs, deeply amused at the scrunch of you face when he slumps in the seat next to you. "You've never liked me, no one does"

Rolling your eyes you take the wine from his hand, pushing him back in his seat. "Your family likes you Aegon, your mother, surely" your voice is short, seemingly bored of his presence already. Not something he's unused to.

"No.. They don't like me" It comes out soft, and barely audible but you hear him. It makes you turn slightly, staring at him unsure of how to proceed. Your heart aches and you find yourself reaching for his hands, the action makes him look up unshed tears filling his eyes.

"Father does not care for me, us. he spent so long wanting sons and dreamers yet now he finds himself with two songs and a dreamer in my sister and he still views your mother as his only child." You wince at that, sure you had seen it growing up you weren't blind to the kings dismissal of his children or fondness of your mother. you had no idea just how little he cared.

"Your mother must love you though, i've seen her with Aemond she seems rather loving?" Your carful with your words not wanting to offend your prince its his laugh that startles you. "I am no son of hers, she made that clear after aemond lost his eye. He and Helaena are all that she cares for. I'm just her drunken, ungrateful son."

You understand him now, understand his anger, his drinking. He's hurt and lost and crying out for help when no ones bothered to listen. You feel yourself move towards him, unsure why, you pull him into a hug.

He nuzzles his head into your neck and releases a breath he didn't know he was holding, letting his eyes close and his body relax in your hold. "I'll marry you." his head shoots up at your words, confused as to why you would give your life to him. "But, reduce the drinking. You don't have to stop, just drink less okay?"

"Okay." He smiles then, a true genuine smile and you lean down to press a soft kiss to his nose laughing when he scrunches up his face in protest. "Good. I'll hold you to that."

Feeling him hum against you, you move to run your hands through his hair. "Ser Christen, please in form my mother and the rest of the council that the meeting need not proceed as Aegon and I are accepting the terms of our betrothal."

"Of course Princess."

Should this be a series?

[yoosungisbabie]

between night and morning - day three

@juminweek2019

jumin x mc

rating: T

prompt: green daylily - romantic love, "forgetting painful events from the past," "the flower that helps forget"

warnings: nightmares, slight spoilers for Jumin's route

word count: 1.4k

ao3 link

Jumin wakes from a nightmare and goes searching for comfort.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Jumin…Jumin…

JUMIN!

Jumin snapped awake, jostling his chair and inhaling raggedly. He looked around, seeing that he was still in his living room and most importantly, still alone.

Jumin leaned forward and put his head in his hands, unable to shake himself from the nightmare he’d been awoken from quite yet. It was one in the same vein as they all were; memories he’d tried to forget even though he knew he couldn’t. Memories from his and his father’s past.

Jumin wiped the sweat from his brow and worked on slowing his breathing, keeping his eyes open and focused on the carpet beneath his chair. When he’d calmed down just slightly, he sat back up, glancing over at the paperwork he’d been working on before he unfortunately dozed off.

His eyes ached at the tiny print on the paper, and just as soon as he picked it up, Jumin put it back down and sighed slowly. He felt useless for so many reasons, and having that ridiculous nightmare made him feel less and less in control. He needed to be in control, in that moment more than ever.

An image of her flashed in his mind. His heart palpitated strangely, like it had been doing for the past few days, but it wasn’t dizzying anxiety like he’d felt just moments previous. If anything, thinking of the woman in his bed nearly made him forget why he was so on edge in the first place.

Jumin took a deep breath before he stood from his chair. After not moving for quite some time, the tension in his body was uncomfortable. He started towards his bedroom, remembering all he’d said to her last night as he felt his body untie some of its knots.

As he approached the door, he heard her light breathing and couldn’t help but smile. Peeking in, he admired the way she looked so peaceful, so carefree. He was sincerely thankful that she was able to get rest, despite all of the events that had transpired over the past week. He felt a flash of envy before it melted into gratitude for her presence.

How could he bear to let her go in the morning?

Jumin had taken a step into the room before he’d thought about it, unable to think of a reason that made sense for him not to move closer.

He stopped just next to the bed, able to hear her breathing much more clearly and realizing his own breaths had calmed back to normal.

Staring down at her, the only label for the emotion that was burning in his chest was love. He was in love with her. The feeling itself was not what frightened him, but the thought was horrifying. How could he love someone, let alone someone he’d met only days ago?

In multiple instances, his father had been beguiled by women he mistakenly put his trust in. He watched him ponder over it and inevitably give in, no matter how much Jumin urged him to see reason. Eventually, Jumin stopped trying.

But as soon as he no longer outwardly cared, that’s when those women began to focus on him too. The thought nearly brought him back into his nightmare, blinding rage flashing across his vision.

MC shifted in the bed in front of him, pulling him from his thoughts. It felt almost wrong to be upset in her presence. How could he lose himself in thought when she was right in front of him?

Jumin sat down slowly, working to clear his mind as he watched her sleeping peacefully. His eyes scanned over her face, taking a long look at her lips. Her kiss was like magic, some kind of force he’d only read about in books. Thinking of her smile made his chest feel fuzzy, and when he moved to look down at himself out of slight worry, Jumin realized he’d laid down next to her.

He paused, feeling his heart rate quicken. He had never lost control like he did when he was with her. It perplexed him, but he was equally as confused as to why he didn’t want that fact to change.

She was so close to him in that moment, so beautiful and so serene. His hand moved out towards her, lingering above her face before he brushed the back of his index finger along her cheek. Her deep breaths shallowed, prompting Jumin to wonder about how heavily she slept.

Taking his hand back, he waited as she returned to a deeper sleep, his eyelids growing heavier as he lay beside her. After a moment, he reached out again, pulling the blanket back over her shoulder. This time, he couldn’t pull away, and he rested his hand on her upper arm. She was warm, contrasting with his cool hand. He felt the hairs stand up on his arm, his fingers tightening around her minutely. She reacted with a short, low hum from the back of her throat, but she didn’t move an inch.

Despite the feeling that was burning in his throat, Jumin decided to let her rest, praying that he would have time to explore his curiosities on another calmer night.

A thought flashed in his mind for him to remove himself from the bed, from her arm, but the thought was quickly buried by fatigue. Jumin worked to keep his eyes open, to look at her for just a second longer, but his exhaustion got the better of him.

Hours later, when the sun had begun to rise, Jumin innately roused. Some days he wished that his bodily rhythm would allow for longer sleep, especially this past week.

He willed his eyes open, starting to sigh before his breath caught in his throat in panic. Her face was inches from his, and as the blood began to rush through his body, he realized that she was touching him too. She was still asleep, breathing slowly as Jumin looked down to see both her hands outstretched to him. One of them was draped over his upper arm, her hand reaching down towards his back, and the other had a small handful of his shirt. It had come slightly untucked in the night, leaving just enough fabric to be gripped by her hand just above his heart.

Jumin looked over her features, knowing that his heart should be racing with anger, resentment, or guilt. But when he searched, there was nothing but peace and eagerness to learn more about her. To hold her like she was holding him, and to love and cherish her for the amazing soul she’d offered to him in kindness. He would forever be indebted to her for the solace she’d provided him in his lowest moments.

Jumin watched her until drowsiness began to take over him once more. He was tempted to stay, to let her hold him as long as she wanted, but he knew he needed to keep himself grounded. It was important for him to let her go today or else there would be no possibility of them being together in the future. He had to regrettably detach from her, just for today, just enough to let her leave, so that he could be bound to her forever.

Jumin longed to reach forward and press a kiss to her cheek, her forehead, her nose, but he didn’t want to wake her so early. He slowly began to move backward out of her embrace, holding his breath as she twitched and took her arm back. But her hand still gripped his shirt, and even as he continued to move, that fact didn’t change.

Jumin reached down, his fingertips brushing over her wrist as a test before he gently placed his hand over hers. Hooking his pinkie finger under hers, he pulled her hand from his shirt achingly slow, nearly hearing his heart rate pick up as she latched on to his finger instead. Jumin placed their joint hands on the bed in front of him, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb until he could pull his finger free. The loss of warmth from her touch made his chest ache in a way he had become too familiar with these past few days, but he steeled himself.

Standing from the bed, he imagined himself waking up with her every day, kissing her good morning, and leaving her to sleep more. Jumin felt a small smile come to his lips, shaking his head and lightly scolding himself for daydreaming.

Taking one last look at her, he left the room, closing the door behind himself and realizing he finally felt rested.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

thank you for reading! thank for you for all the support on my first two days! I have had long nights and work, so I know I'm late, and then on top of that, I got a concussion this morning...

but! I'm still going strong, and I'll do my best to catch up! (even though I shouldn't be looking at screens ladglsjbgljgb)

mel x

[totowlff]

chapter forty-seven — bounce back

➝ elisabeth share her thoughts with her father, who doesn't hold back

➝ word count: 1,8k

➝ warnings: mentions of death and emotional distress

➝ author’s note: a short one to celebrate that is not race week!

NOVEMBER, 2018

Elisabeth couldn't remember the last time she had watched a Formula 1 race away from the circuit, sitting in the comfort of a sofa. And she was sure her father didn't remember either.

 Sitting next to her, Niki had his blue eyes fixed on the board. With his red cap on his head and his arms crossed, he seemed less than pleased with the overtake that Max Verstappen had just made over Lewis Hamilton. However, his expression, as well as his grumpy comments about the team's strategy, were secondary to Elisabeth.

 It was unbelievable that he was still there.

After the treatment alternatives were exhausted and Doctor Idzko stated that Niki needed an urgent transplant within a week to have a chance of surviving, Elisabeth was unable to avoid the sadness that came over her. She didn't feel like going to the factory in England, much less attending the races in the circuits on her father's behalf. She just wanted to stay by Niki's side, taking care of him, trying to enjoy those last moments with him.

Until a phone call changed the course of Niki's situation. A donation of a pair of possibly compatible lungs rekindled hope in the whole family. The operation was carried out successfully on the first day of August and, fortunately, his body accepted the new organs well. His release from the hospital, just over two months later, marked what her father called his “third life”.

And he was making the most of it.

— What? — Niki grunted, looking sideways at her daughter.

— Nothing.

— You're looking at me with a strange face.

She just gave a small smile.

— Just enjoying your presence — Elisabeth replied, stretching her arm towards him — I missed you, you know?

The former driver took her hand affectionately, his thumb caressing her skin.

— Something told me you did.

— Was it my daily visits?

— No, in fact it was Toto.

Elisabeth rolled her eyes.

— He can't keep that mouth shut...

— In fact, when it comes to you, he's completely incapable — Niki murmured, his eyes shifting to the screen, where the radio transcript indicated that the Mercedes was preparing for a double pit stop. He pursed his lips as he watched the silver car with the number 77 stuck on its nose enter the pit straight, seeming to evaluate the choice made by the strategists.

A few seconds later, it was Lewis's turn to enter the pits, while Red Bull Racing's Max Verstappen increased his lead.

— They shouldn't have put these super soft ones...

— Why?

— Since the FIA ​​ordered the holes in the wheels to be closed, this car has lost performance on these types of tires. The best thing was to start with the soft ones, like the Ferrari…

Looking at the leaderboard, Elisabeth raised an eyebrow.

— Not that they're better than us, right? — she commented, while the narrator spoke of Kimi Räikkönen and Sebastian Vettel's difficulty in remaining in second and third position, respectively — They still need to stop, don't they?

— That doesn't mean they're not capable of catching up to us, especially with worn-out tires — Niki muttered, looking at the screen.

She didn't say anything, after all, he was the one who knew everything about Formula 1 — at least from a technical point of view — and, in a way, that was what made them a good pair at the negotiating table. The memory of their last meeting together, in Brackley, made her smile.

However, it was short-lived, as a sharp kick towards the ribs made Elisabeth hiss.

— Any problem? — the ex-driver asked — Is that my granddaughter?

— You should stop with this granddaughter thing, you know? — she grunted, massaging the side of her belly in an attempt to move her child's foot away — And yes, it's the baby.

— I know it's a girl, Mauslein, there's no point in complaining — Niki said — Is she kicking you?

— More specifically my ribs — Elisabeth murmured, squeaking with the new kick. It was something she had noticed over the last few weeks and, according to her research and the app she was using, it was completely normal, but it was still uncomfortable, not to mention painful.

Her father slid across the couch, sitting closer to her. Then, placing one hand on her protruding belly, he began to caress it.

— You should give your mother a break, mausi — Niki said in the direction of her belly, while being watched by her daughter — Kicking her won't make you leave any faster, you know?

Elisabeth smiled a little.

— Maybe it would be better if it came soon, wouldn't it?

— Why?

— So you can meet it.

Niki frowned.

— She doesn't need to rush into this world. Until she's here, I'm not going anywhere.

There were a few seconds of hesitation, the race narration being the only sound that prevented the environment from falling into complete silence.

— I was scared — Elisabeth whispered.

— Of what?

— That you wouldn’t meet the baby.

The former pilot withdrew his hand, a skeptical expression on his face.

— Elisabeth — he said in a reprimanding tone.

— Dad, you were lying in a hospital bed, breathing on machines and with all the doctors telling you that you would only get out of there if a pair of lungs fell from the sky — she began to speak, her eyes wet — What do you imagine I would think?

— That you have no power to change my ending — Niki replied, dryly.

It hit her like a punch. Tears ran down her cheeks, thick and bitter.

— Dad…

— Elisabeth, you can't do anything about this. I'm going to die, it's a fact.

— But I wanted you to meet the baby…

— And what difference would it make if she met me?

She stared at him for long seconds, her lower lip trembling. Upon realizing that his daughter wasn't going to say anything, the former pilot let out a long sigh.

— I know I said I wanted to see you become a mother, but that doesn't mean I need to see it. You don't need me for that...

— I need it, dad! — Elisabeth exclaimed, gesturing with her hands — How am I going to be a mother without you?

— As far as I know, I've already done my part in this process, which was putting you into the world and raising you. From there, it's up to you, Mauslein.

— But who will help me…

— This child's father — her father cut her off — And, as far as I know, he had two other children before this, so he doesn't lack experience.

Elisabeth didn't dare look at Niki, feeling like a scolded kid.

— Tell me, do you remember your grandparents at any of your birthday parties? — he asked.

— No.

— Because they didn't go to them. Well, there was no way they could go, since when you were born, both my father and your mother's parents had already died. And it's okay, you didn't miss them at all...

— Didn't you miss it? — Elisabeth stammered.

— No, Mauslein. Because what you needed was me and your mother, not your grandmother. In fact, I don't think she would do anything much other than judge your brothers for riding motorbikes and you for not straightening your hair, so it was even better that way.

Feeling a kick from the baby, she looked at her belly wistfully, resting her hand on the curve formed under the dress she was wearing. Her father, as it always seemed, was right. She had grown up without her grandparents around and visits to the woman who had inspired her name could be counted on her fingers.

However, if her father wasn't interested in bringing his children closer to Mrs. Lauda, ​​Elisabeth didn't think the same way. She wanted to have Niki around, she wanted him to create the bond that, even though he hadn't missed it, was still something special.

— You don't want to be around, then? — she asked softly.

Her father snorted.

— Is that what you understood, Elisabeth? — Niki returned, without waiting for a response to continue — What I want to say is that my granddaughter doesn't need me around, in the same way that you didn't need Ernst. But that doesn't mean I won't be around, on the contrary. Someone needs to make sure Toto doesn't spoil my granddaughter.

A shy smile appeared on her face.

— He won’t spoil it…

— He won't, I won't let him — the ex-pilot said, chuckling.

Running a hand over her cheek, Elisabeth wiped away the tear that was sitting there, before looking back at the television, where a Red Bull appeared to have had some trouble.

— And this is Max Verstappen, the leader of the race, he spun on the way down the hill — the narrator exclaimed, as the camera moved away, showing a pink Force India car — Did they make contact?

— I'm not sure what that Force India was trying to do at that point, as a straggler — the commentator said.

The onboard image confirmed that there had been a dispute between the Dutchman and the Frenchman, who seemed to want to fight for space on the track despite being one lap behind, in 16th position. While Verstappen cursed his gridmate over the radio, Elisabeth looked at her father with wide eyes.

— Do you think he will make it back?

— He'll probably just need to change the tires — Niki replied — But that's good for Lewis. Very good.

In fact, that was good. Good enough for the Mercedes stickered with the number 44 to cross the finish line first. The flag made Elisabeth squeal, clapping her hands excitedly while her father smiled proudly. Giving the former driver a hug, she kissed his cheek.

— Another title, dad — she said, smiling.

— And there are five, now! — Niki replied, before pointing to the television.

On the screen, Toto appeared celebrating effusively alongside Bradley. The scene filled Elisabeth's heart with warmth, a silly smile appearing on her lips. A smile of admiration for the man she had chosen to spend the rest of her life with.

— I think he did fine without us, don't you? — she asked, giving her father a mischievous look.

— Yes, it was.

— Hi, my world champion — she greeted him with a small smile.

— Hi, my love — the team principal replied, returning the smile — Another one for the shelf, did you see?

— I saw it, my father and I saw it — Elisabeth said, turning the cell phone slightly to the side so that Niki was on the screen. Her father tilted his head slightly before theatrically taking off his cap without saying a word. It wasn't like he needed it, since that gesture said it all.

He was satisfied with what he had seen.

— I hope the result lived up to your expectations, Mr. Lauda.

— Couldn't have done a better job, Toto.

— Thank you, Niki.

— Now, we have to continue working for the sixth. And this is going to be a challenge, my friend.

[ahoyimlosingmymind]

Vacker sibling headcanons go 👀

Alvar was the first person Fitz ever reached out to telepathically after he manifested, and that created a pathway in Fitz's brain that made connecting to Alvar a muscle memory thing.

When Alvar was in the elite levels, Fitz would transmit thoughts to him all day long to make him laugh or to ask about his day because he really loved his big brother

Alvar would entertain this, but found it all deeply annoying, and like Fitz was trying to rub it in his face that he had the 'cooler' ability

Biana taught Fitz and Alvar how to braid hair. Fitz complained, but learned

Alvar LOVED it. He doted on Biana. He took her shopping, and he did his best (along with Della) to make sure Biana felt seen, because both of them were shoved out of the picture as soon as Fitz manifested it seemed.

Fitz always noticed Alvar's apparent favoritism, but didn't like bringing it up because Alvar's rebuttal was always "And your dad's favorite. It's okay to just let other people have things, you know."

A lot of Alvar and Fitz's interactions growing up were rather negative, and sometimes Fitz would get really upset, but most of the time he just liked that Alvar was paying attention to him

For mothers and fathers day, the three of them would get together and bake treats for their parents and write cards. However, this usually brought up a lot of feelings regarding the unspoken sibling rivalry.

Biana and Fitz got closer as they got older, especially once the two of them were shoved into the limelight. they became rather emotionally reliant on one another, Fitz on Biana more so than the other way around

she was good at shutting down rumors surrounding him, and always left a seat empty at the foxfire lunch table for him

Alvar was pretty absent by the time Sophie got to the lost cities

but Fitz's mind still connected to his brothers as easily as breathing. he never realized what evil lurked in his big brother's mind, and he feels a knot in his stomach every time he thinks about it

Biana no longer finds her similarities to Alvar comforting. She doesn't like that Alvar saw himself in her. That he said she was most likely to understand why he was doing what he did

she looks in the mirror and is comforted by the fact that her eyes are teal, like Fitz's.

[vampiretendencies]

Okay first time requesting sth:) but that one prompt list you reblogged gave me the idea of JJ having a nightmare and reader waking up and comforting him? I feel like it’s always reader having the nightmare but I can kinda envision it with JJ

Only if you want to and if your comfortable with it ♡

warnings; nightmares, lots of fluff, mentions of jj’s dad, mention of drugs, suggestive, mention of kids

pairing; jj maybank x fem!reader

authors note; thank you for trusting me with your first request ! that’s so true though, so i’m glad you decided to request this approach. requests are open ! <3

It’s strumming closer to the edge of midnight.

The living room being flooded with the pastel colors that the TV radiated as it displayed a movie JJ decided on. Yet, he’d fallen into a slumber not even half way through, and you didn’t know what kind of distasteful film this was. You forcefully watched it because you adored the boy that picked it.

No choice but to sink deeper, and deeper into this couch.

Such a pretty face is in your lap, insisting on sleeping there rather than a cuddle. His squishy face was buried in he dough of your thighs, studying the boy’s features— sun kissed blonde tips delicately suiting his features. Cheeks a darkened red, the imprint from the drawstring in your shorts could be found too, indented swiftly into them.

An angel is before you.

Basking in his presence doesn’t last long before he’s stirring, you’d thought he was waking up so your heart fluttered ever so slightly. He wasn’t.

The war in his mind is infinite, and has been rotating on a loop since he wandered into it an hour ago. This petrifying nuance is one of his father coming back to rip JJ a new one for throwing the pills, that he worked so hard to steal, into the water before sending him off on his one way trip away from Kildare. A robbery that was so effortless, however taking care of his own son was a chore to him.

Repeating in that nightmare that his father is beating him senseless on that same dock he said goodbye to him on. Bleeding out from various uncontrollable wounds that seeped ‘why won’t you love me’ from them. At one point in that night terror he was fighting back, though he gave up upon seeing his father would have no mercy on him. Pills of every color, would be enough for him to punch his son unrecognizable.

A sorry excuse of a man, you didn’t understand how such a beautiful, giving, boy came from that waste of space.

Profuse sweat entangled the tufts of his treases and one thing about JJ is he doesn’t sweat in his sleep. Not this heavily anyway. As long as his girl is nuzzled into his side, and he’s intertwined with her along with a cool fan blowing on him— he’s more then fine.

Beads of it began rolling down his face, and his lip quivered in such a weeping, defeated way. Whatever disturbing power this is, is consuming him bit by bit, and you can’t sit idly by and watch it.

You didn’t want to startle him more than he apparently is, so you start with a gentle tap. His limp body wasn’t moving, resorting to shaking him into oblivion— ultimately cutting his soft breaths short, whilst he sucks in new air to compensate for what he’d lost.

JJ’s eyes squint open, instinctively pressing a tender kiss to your warm inner thigh. Assuming you’d accidentally woken up, and assuring that he was still here in one piece.

“Baby, you’re sweating.”

You soothed him, by pushing back his hair and wiping his drenched forehead with the bottom of your cotton shirt. Cupping your small hands to his jawline, providing coaxing that he oh so needed.

“S’nothin’ baby just a little … bodily fluid?” He denied it, and would’ve planned on drowning it out with the rest of the suppressed memories of his father. But, you’ve seen it, and he won’t deny you the reasoning behind it after watching it with your own two eyes.

“Too much of it.”

“Thought you liked when I was sweaty, last time you couldn’t shutup about how hot-“

“Spill.”

You hushed him with two fingers to his delicate lips, his tongue delved on the backs of them to lick them intricately. You push his head in the other direction, wiping the spit on the neck of his sleeveless tee— acting as if you didn’t like it.

“Alright, you got me. It was a nightmare,” he followed your eyes, raspy voice filling the room vividly. Looking up at you like you’re the reason why the world goes round. You aren’t sadly, but you are the reason his world does. For if you weren’t here in this very second, he would’ve wailed uncontrollably in the emptiness of no home. You combed through his hair, as if to say ‘tell me more’ and with a sigh he did.

“What is it J?”

Biting throughly on his bottom lip, he contemplated; face curling closer into your thigh. He stomachs it, the exhaustion ridden eyes struggling to make out expressions with the TV now illuminating from light to dark during commercial.

“He’s everywhere s’like I can’t fuckin’ get rid of him. You know I thought when he left, I’d be done with him for good … but no even in my nightmares he beats the shit out of me.”

He laughs it off, devaluing his feelings with every chuckle. All you can do is peer at him, with concerned affections and furrowed eyebrows.

And he thinks they have no meaning, for the entirety of his life he’s had to shove it down— conceal it. There’s things his fathers done that he can’t recall, because he forces himself to forget.

“J, look at me.”

Your thumb circles on the tops of his cheeks, consoling him in such a way no one else could. You were his favorite song, and he’d listen consistently for that extra touch of solace.

“He can’t hurt you anymore, not now, not again.” He melts into the palm of your hand like putty. Similar to a car furrowing to its owners touch. He’s glistening thoroughly with hope and desire— your lover lost a piece of him every time his father left another mark. “What you feel shouldn’t go unnoticed baby, he’s going to regret leaving the most perfect son behind.”

“Perfect?”

“Perfect, J.”

Again to shrug it off once more he starts with, “When we have kids, and we will have kids … lots of em … he won’t get the opportunity to know them.” Changing the topic but now being able to at least talk about it, was one step closer to somewhat vanquishing the sore subject.

Following suit, you continue with the more lighthearted part as the sweet boy below you deserved everything of the sort.

“How many babies we talkin’ Maybank?”

“Enough for a small army. So I say we get started now, pretty girl.”

[pinkthick]

I’ll always be there for you

Credits: @bluekernal / @quaritchsgirl

Pairing: Avatar!Miles Quaritch & Kid!Miles Socorro

Summary: Even though it's challenging to be a single parent, let alone an avatar, Quaritch is doing his best to care for little Miles. But he still finds himself thinking about his previous life.

Notes: Please take a moment to read this. Check out @bluekernal/ @quaritchsgirl’s blog because she created this AU, and let me tell you, her artwork is incredible.This fanfiction was greatly inspired by her drawings.

While Miles did pass away in this fanfiction exactly like in the original film, the RDA would have started this project earlier because the avatar body was already on Pandora and the humans hadn’t been sent back to earth. The humans are still living there, but the Na’vi still don’t accept them so fights ensure from time to time. Even though Quaritch is an avatar now, he still retains his previous memories, and he continues to serve in the ‘military’ on Pandora without his consent since he literally became the RDA’s propriety, but Jake Sully isn’t that important to him, his son on the other hand is what matters most to Quaritch.

Miles forbade his soldiers from having relationships between them. His first instruction as their commander was that. A weakness they cannot afford to have in the battlefield, according to his father, is having sentiments. And from a very young age, that was ingrained in him.

He couldn't believe it was him who had broken his most crucial rule.

Paz Sorroco. She was a bold and fierce woman. She had always been a more devoted soldier than he had ever been. Determined in everything she was doing. Paz even disregarded some directives that her superior had given her. She always thought it was worthwhile to fight for their home. She has always been very stubborn, something Miles has always found admirable in her.

Being completely honest, he never imagined that so much could change in just a short period of time. He always believed that there was nothing more in life that he could have asked for. Everything he ever wanted was given to him. But, as all stories go, something–er, someone came into his life. His baby boy, Miles Sorroco, came into the world. Paz’s greatest gift to him. He never understood why she had wanted to name the boy after him, but somehow right now, it brought him comfort. When Miles first saw him, he literally lost his ability to breath. He truly believed that the he could blow him away with only a small exhalation because the baby appeared to be so frail.

When Paz held the baby out to him, he was so insistent on refusing. He refused three times before the colonel finally took little Miles from Paz’s demanding hands. He hadn’t any clue on how to hold him. He had to sit right beside his partener in order to receive instructions. How the tables have turned. He tenderly held his head as he slowly rocked him. It didn’t feel real to him. Oh, how he remembers how his tiny hand wrapped around his finger. Paz could swore that she saw tears. When the little boy first opened his eyes, the soldier was shocked to see how much the boy resembled his mother.

Miles finally spoke “I’m—I’m a father, Paz.” His breathing was wavering and he just couldn’t believe it.

The woman besides him giggled “Yeah, you’re a father.”

He simply lifted the baby’s fist that encircled his finger and kissed it softly. “I promise you that I’ll always protect you little one.” He was unsure of why his father never felt this way about him, but he undoubtedly won't behave in the same way as his old man. He would try his best no matter what.

But he was unable to protect the boy's mother. That was the only time he disliked her stubbornness. Paz wanted to be there, to fight for their cause. So she didn't remain with another unit. Even now, he continues to hold himself responsible, but the idea that he was somehow lucky is something he still finds repulsive. He didn't fully recall how he died, but thanks to some insurance he had, they were able to transfer all of his memories into an avatar body. He was now RDA's property, a “Recom" as they call him.

The tail was what first upset him the most, which was strange. Most of the time, he made an effort to control it but had little success. Though he swiftly adjusted to his new form, he eventually came to terms with the fact that his ears and tail would always respond to his emotions, whether he liked it or not.

Although he was still on Pandora and felt secure knowing that not all of the unit had been destroyed and that it was still standing, he didn't give the other people any thought. His son was the most important thing to him right now. From this point forward, the toddler had only his father and he couldn’t help but feel guilty that his son will grow up without a mother.

For approximately six weeks, the boy had been staying with some nurses. He knew his son was safe but Miles couldn't quit thinking about him. He wasn't sure if the toddler was crying or eating properly, and he wasn't allowed to leave the grounds until the examinations were over. He didn’t like not knowing what was happening to his child.

The first time Miles saw Quaritch as an avatar was when he was a year old. He wasn't sure how the youngster would react, but it wasn't at all what he had anticipated. The soldier leaned over the tiny boy with both interest and fear as little Miles was hugging one of the nurses' legs and then child gazed up at his father. He would certainly not want to frighten the young boy so he moved slowly. He knelt to be closer to the toddler's eye level, but his son no longer turned to face the colonel. He continued to cling to the nurse like a monkey, burrowing his face into her leg. His heart began to race because he didn’t know exactly how to approach the young boy, but he tried, softly asking, "Miles?"

Finally, the young child turned to face him, his eyes a little moist as though he was about to cry. As the colonel drew near, his son murmured in a weak voice, "Dad?" When the child didn't back away from him, he felt more at ease and said, "Yea," chuckling as he added, "It's me Miles, your dad." The young kid immediately recognized his father's voice, but he wasn't certain it was indeed him. When Quaritch reached out with his blue hand, the boy let go of the nurse. Seeing a smile on her face as he looked up to get some form of confirmation, he realized everything was alright.

Little Miles approached the avatar slowly and gazed into the colonel's yellow eyes. Quaritch wasn't sure exactly what to do, he didn't want to frighten the child away, so he didn't move, and the boy eventually grabbed his hand.

He was unable to fathom the boy's current size in relation to himself. The youngster was so small. He didn't believe his son was capable of being cuter than before. When the toddler smiled at Miles, the soldier thought that he would have died of cuteness right there. His son’s little hand couldn't even grip three of his fingers. Paz, you would have cherished seeing this.

It will be hard taking care of the boy, he ain’t going to lie to himself, but he’ll manage, that’s for sure.

Quaritch heard beeping nearby, which he instantly picked up, but he soon realized that he could actually sleep in today because his meeting wasn't until later in the afternoon. Even though he didn't want to open his eyes, he did so after stretching out an arm to shut the alarm. He checked on Miles and saw that the boy was still tucked in bed besides him. The only problem? Is that the alarm woke him up.

As he turned to face his father, the child rubbed his eyes a little and grinned when he realized that his father was also awake. Returning the smile, Quaritch once again buried his face in the cushions since he was unable to keep his eyes open. God, he was exhausted.

“Dad?” The four-year-old hopped over his father and said, "Come on, it's eight in the morning.” A huff was nevertheless pushed out even though he hardly felt the boy land on him.

“Just give me five more minutes to sleep, boy. “ He muttered into the sheets as little Miles got off the avatar and the bed.

“What am I supposed to do then?” He inquired, his voice containing a tinge of disappointment.

The recom didn't even have the energy to turn his head to look at the boy, only saying, "Play for a little while."

Knowing that his son hardly slept in, Quartich understood it was pointless to try to coax him to. Yet, little Miles never, ever played in silence, which forced him to wonder what the boy was up to. But, the colonel's five minutes of sleep quickly grew into an hour.

He didn't hear the child leave or enter the room again. With his plate of food still in hand, Miles carefully climbed back into bed. The soldier next to him woke up when he sensed movement, but he remained still. Given the smell, the young kid most likely eating an omlet.

“Dad?” his son asked with his full mouth.

“Mm?” He didn’t manage to even form a full word right now.

“It’s morning.” The little boy repeated as he put the plate on the night stand and went towards his father.

For a few minutes, Quaritch remained silent. But when Miles prodded his arm, he finally uttered a worn-out "no."

"Lyle went with me to the canteen," the kid huffed, flopping onto his back and started to gaze up at the ceiling.

The small child was quite frustrated that the colonel was still quiet. He gave him another hour to sleep; wasn't it enough for his father? He wanted to play with him because he knew his father was soon to leave on a mission and he wanted to spend as much time as possible with him before that happened. However, Quartich slept when his father could play with him. That won’t do at all.

The soldier was surprised by another tiny prod, but this time it was against his ribs. He initially tried to ignore it and try to get back to sleep, but then the poking started again, this time a little more forcefully. Little Miles appeared to laugh when his tail began to move slightly under the cover, but he still persisted in prodding his father.

He pushed himself to open his eyes with a quiet grunt. "Bud, please stop." Of course, his son continued on. Back against the pillows, Quartich groaned while pressing his face against them. He sometimes felt like this boy could be the death of him.

“Dad, wake up!” He chanted as the soldier supported himself on his arms to look at the boy. His son gave him a sweet smile in response.

“Miles..” he let a whine as he tried to now grab the little boy without much succes. He flipped over, still with his eyes half closed and that’s when the kid attached to the man before him. He started to use his father as a climbing frame.

As he resisted his father's attempts to catch him, he giggled and said, "I want to play."

Finally Quaritch managed to grab him and wrestle him off his neck. He looked at the boy and understood that there was no way that his son would let him go back to sleep so he accepted his defeat quickly. His tail started to flick playfully and then started to tickle the young boy, who erupted into giggles. A sleepy smile spread across his face at the joyous laughter emerging from his son. Little Miles gasped for air and the soldier finally stopped.

The boy began to jump up and down on the bed once more and the colonel sighed as he finally turned to look around the room, wanting to see the state it was in. The fact that there were toys all over the floor didn't bother him; however, the slime that was stuck to the wall did. How on earth did he pull that off?

He thought that maybe it was more preferable than Miles drawing on the wall. Just as long as he doesn't have to repaint the walls…again—it’ll be alright.

“What did you do to the wall?” Quaritch questioned as his son stopped bouncing and refrained from even looking at him in the eyes.

“I didn’t mean to.” Little Miles spoke in a low voice and he just couldn’t be mad at him. But that doesn’t mean he won’t be the one to clean it.

“It's alright, buddy, but you still need to clean it, y’know.” After receiving a nod, Quaritch picked up his son so they could prepare for the day. He would deal with the wall later.

It was usually simple to give him a shower, but his child loathed brushing his teeth more than anything.

Miles wiggled to be set down as soon as they entered the bathroom. “I don't want to." he complained to his father. The colonel still tried to explain that if the little boy will clean his teeth, he won’t be going to the dentist anywhere near the future, but yet he always misunderstood what his father was saying to him.

His ears flopped down as he made an effort to reason with the 4-year-old. Finally when his kid finally took the toothbrush from his grasp, he began to think about Miles' first trip to the dentist.

When they both entered the hallways from unit 7, the scent of the sterile environment mixed with dental care chemicals was obvious. Quaritch had never been afraid of the dentist, even as a kid because he didn't have any dental issues and usually just went for a checkup. But today wasn’t about him, it was about his son.

It wasn't like little Miles would have any kind of procedure done to him—it was simply a straightforward dental exam—but his kid clung to him as he visibly stiffened. The young boy whispered softly, "I'm scared" as he still didn’t want to let go of his father.

The soldier smiled, attempting to reassure the boy that he had nothing to be afraid of. "All Doctor Palmer is going to do is look at your teeth for a little while," the soldier said. “That's all.”

Although his son remained silent, Quaritch could tell that he was still uncertain. "Do you really believe I would take you somewhere or permit someone to hurt you?"

Little Miles said, "No," as he encircled his father's neck with his arms. “But what if they remove all of my teeth and force me to wear fake teeth?”

Quaritch wasn't at all prepared for such question, and he was certain Lyle was responsible for instilling his kid with that ridiculous idea. He really wanted to speak with his soldier later.

“Don't worry, she won't.” He responded briefly. “And besides, that’s usually done for older people.”

“Oh. Like you and Lyle?" The young boy asked sincerely, and it's safe to assume that his father was surprised. But, one of the dental hygienists showed up before he could respond. He remembered her quite well. When they were still getting used to their new bodies, Doctor Palmer was one of the dentists who checked to see if anything was wrong with any of them.

“You must be Miles.” The little boy, that was still in his father’s arms, received a warm smile from the woman. “We’re ready for you now.” She didn’t say anything as they went to an examine room and as Quaritch ducked under the door so that he could enter, Miles simply tightened his hold on his father.

As she put down his tablet, the colonel also put the boy down even if he did get some protests from his son.

“Alright Miles, if you would take a seat.” Doctor Palmer said as she placed a booster seat on the large examaning chair.

The 4 year old took a step back and braced himself against his father’s legs.

“Miles, it’s alright. I’m right here.” Quaritch reassured him “Go on.”

He gave his father one last glance before turning to go towards the chiar, uttering a low "okay."

The soldier saw his son ascend the booster seat and breathed through his mask.

“Is he allergic to any kind of medication?” The doctor asked his father.

“No” He replied as he watched the woman jot down the details in a folder, then made his way over to the sink to wash her hands. The doctor then donned a brand-new set of latex gloves.

"So Miles, do you have a favorite animal?" She inquired so the little boy could loosen a bit.

“I like spiders.” He declared while beaming enthusiastically.

“Spiders? How so?"

“I saw the movie Spider-Man recently! He is the coolest superhero.” As soon as she noticed that he had somewhat relaxed, the woman smiled.

“I agree. I like how his suit the most.” She said to him as she started to raise her hands “So Miles, let’s see those teeth. Open wide.”

The boy's smile quickly vanished as he turned to face his father, who had a comforting smile on his face. The boy then finally opened his mouth.

Quaritch felt like the exam and the cleaning went well. Miles was calm while Doctor Palmer cleaned his teeth. It was when the metal instruments were starting to get used was when he noticed that his son started to grasp the chair tightly. The doctor was able to calm him somehow, but stopped abruptly when the boy flinched.

The colonel’s ears peeked up as he looked at them unsure at what was happening.

“It seems you have a cavity, Miles" The doctor continued, turning to face his father, "It's on his canine on the lower jaw.”

“What should we do?” Quaritch asked as he looked at his son, seeing that he was distressed.

“Normally, I would be thinking about getting it fixed right now since it’s small, but if you feel like we should leave it alone since it’s a baby tooth, we could do that.” She explained as she looked now at the agitated boy.

“I don't want it to cause him any issues.” Quaritch replied as he drew nearer to the boy.

“Will it hurt?” His eyes were glassy as he observed the woman in front of him.

She assured him, "No," and pointed to the device she was using. She gave the young kid an opportunity to examine the high-speed headpiece in her palm.

Miles finally opened his mouth once more, but he remained silent. But when Doctor Palmer turned on the instrument, that’s when the boy started to cry.

Quaritch still remembers how his son immediately came over to him. He really didn’t think that Miles would get scared, but he couldn’t do anything about that anymore. The cavity wasn’t that serious, but you never know. He would occasionally whine that his tooth hurts after eating sweets, but the baby tooth will fall out really soon according to Doctor Palmer. It wasn’t bad, but Quaritch still wanted to get it fixed. He made an attempt to convince his son, but it was useless. He was adamant about not wanting to visit the dentist ever again.

As he broke his train of thought, a smile reappeared on his face as he observed the child brushing his teeth. His son exclaimed that he was finished after pausing to rinse.

Without wasting any time, he exited the bathroom and shouted that he was going to clean the wall. Quaritch began his own routine but knew that his son would soon require assistance.

Even if being Miles's father was a challenge itself, the colonel couldn't deny that he would be lost right now if it wasn’t for the young child. He wouldn't trade his current life for anything.

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ ?

Notes: I won't lie; it was difficult to write for both of them, but I genuinely wanted to turn Quartich into a soft dad. In addition, if you guys liked this, I think I'd like to write more of them.😅

[demigoddessqueens]

First of all I just wanted to thank you for letting me know your requests were open. It makes me so happy to see people still giving Ezio the love he deserves! I don’t usually go for a lot of the more cliche lover tropes but I can’t stop thinking of Childhood best friend Ezio x reader.

What comes to mind is reader and Ezio having a strained relationship prior to his family’s execution due to readers newfound romantic feelings for Ezio and his infatuation with Christina. But once Ezio’s world is flipped on its axis after the murder of his father and brothers that he would seek reader’s help and comfort as he escapes Florence and trains to become an assassin.

I think at first he would be too shaken up and focused on revenge but after a while he would come to realize that he likes the reader. Maybe he would confess then, or perhaps after he kills Uberto.

It’s up to you to decide how you want to write all of this and what format (if you choose this request at all). You definitely don’t have to use my ideas if you don’t want to either, honestly I’d just love to see any type of Ezio x childhood best friend reader content. Thank you so so much for opening requests and for reading this 💗

Speaking my language with the Ezio angst!!! I need moar 💕💔

MASTERLIST 10

You cared for Ezio so much and it hurts. Growing up close with the Auditores was filled with the happiest memories of you, Frederico, Ezio and Claudia together, welcoming Petruccio, but your feelings always ran different with Ezio.

It left you dismayed at the unrequited feelings, and you felt your heart shatter when you heard of his late escapades of getting chased out with Christina.

Yet nothing could prepare you for the tragedy that struck when you heard of what happened to Giovanni and his two sons, your closest friends. There wasn’t time to grieve as you would have liked now that targets were on you and your family’s back, and you had to leave much of what you knew behind.

Only you didn’t expect to see Ezio at the same place of refuge at the end of things. He mentions that he was able to send a final goodbye to his father (with the help of Christina) but you ignore the pangs at your heart. You mourn along with him at the loss of the life you once knew together.

Being friends of friends (or family) of Assassins come with the perks of protection, but nothing you know of is ever the same again. Getting adjusted to your new life leads to unexpectedly wielding a blade, despite the constant wounds

Still, Ezio is there to see you grow and change as you both reach your respective milestones well into adulthood.

When Leonardo comes to see you both, it’s a much needed reprieve you didn’t realize you needed. A sense of normalcy despite all the heartbreak, and you realize how much you miss Ezio’s smile whenever you laugh at each other’s jokes.

Things feel…different. Upheavals so young and facing through them together does bring you closer. You and Ezio talk of the nightmares, seeking revenge, but try not to forget the good times as well.

In his quest against those who wronged him and his family, Ezio still thinks of you. You bring a tether and one close to him who knows what he’s feeling, going through.

There was one time you swore you felt him kiss you when you fell asleep at one of the desks, but you never brought it up since

Still, you heard of the visits he had with Christina and you didn’t think it would still affect you but jealousy works in mysterious ways. The day he lost her was the day you saw something shift in him, beyond the grief and pain from before.

He’s more urgent, stringent on whenever you go on missions or gather intel, and always wants to be by your side. Even Claudia begins to notice the change in her brother

It starts to annoy you at first, Ezio always hovering around you and whenever another person (let alone man) talks to you

“Ezio, this has gone on far too long now! Why are you always hovering near me?!”

“BECAUSE I WONT LOSE ANOTHER! Not those I CARE about!”

Speechless.

You don’t have anything to retort, especially since he still has more to say

“I’ve lost more than enough in one lifetime, and I can’t lose you too. I care for you…maybe even more than that.”

You can only hug him for now, but come the next day there’s still more to say