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#「 ask. 」 ⇀  and I shall write ; words for you alone .
janaispunk · 2 days
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little lion
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pairing: Oberyn Martell x OFC
word count: 394
tags/warnings: alcohol consumption, i think that’s it?
a/n: @catchallfangirl gave me the prompt “finally, something we can agree on”, oberyn and thirty minutes to write. this is the result :)
follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here!
dividers by @plum98 <3
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She sips her wine, tuning out her father who is rambling on about uniting houses and how much good it would do for the people of the realm.
It’s not about the realm, let alone the people living in it. She knows it, he knows it, everybody in the room knows it. It’s about power. It’s about the iron throne and ensuring who will sit on it.
The man two tables over from hers catches her wandering gaze and raises his own cup in a quiet toast. As he drinks, he winks at her. She hates the blush creeping up on her cheeks, hates the fact that he can see it, even in the candlelight, if the smug look on his handsome features is any indication. She hates his dark eyes, the glinting of the golden chain around his neck, the way it accentuates the panes of his strong chest, his golden skin, visible through his robe.
She needs some air.
Quietly excusing herself, she rises to her feet and leaves the hall, climbing stairs until she reaches one of the higher floors where the thick stony walls open into big windows, overlooking the city below them.
Lights are twinkling in the darkness of the night, until the city gives way to the ocean, moonlight reflecting off of its surface.
She feels his presence before she hears his quiet steps behind her.
“Prince Oberyn.”
“Hello, little lion.”
Goosebumps form on her neck. He’s closer than she anticipated, she can almost feel his breath on her skin. His voice is low, gravely behind her, his accent wrapping around the pet name. The stupid pet name that he won’t stop using and that sounds way too good from his lips.
“I told you not to call me that.”
He tuts gently, twirling one of the long blonde curls of her hair between his fingers, before giving it a light tug.
“Why did you leave?”
“I was bored.”
It might not be the whole truth, but it’s not necessarily a lie, either. He chuckles, still playing with her hair.
“Finally, something we can agree on.”
She turns her head towards him, eyes searching his. He’s much too close. He gently trails one finger over her cheekbone.
“We shall leave the talking to your father and my brother. Let me walk you to your chambers, little lion.”
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thank you for reading! if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask. interaction is what keeps writers going <3
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queen-haq · 2 days
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Fic: Never You (Penelope x Colin) - Part 5
Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)
Spoilers: S3 released scenes.
Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn’t giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.
Excerpt:
“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”
“Of course you would think that.”
“What else is this if not punishment?”
Masterlist (contains links to previous parts and my other stories)
Part 5
“Open the door this instant, Penelope!”
Hearing the banging on her door and her mama’s voice yelling from the other side, Penelope quickly put away her writing materials. The newest Lady Whistledown column sheet was almost ready. She had planned to complete it while Prudence and Portia were busy entertaining callers this afternoon only to be interrupted repeatedly. Irritated, she walked to the door and opened it, allowing Portia Featherington to barge in.
In her mother’s hands was a lovely bouquet of lilies which Portia placed on the nearby desk.
“The Bridgerton boy is here.” There was no mirth on Portia’s face, her striking eyes gleaming as she confronted Pen.
“Is he?”
“Which, I know, you’re already aware of because Mrs. Varley came up here to inform you.”
Pen kept her mouth shut.
“Is there a reason you turned down his invitation for a promenade?”
“I don’t feel well.”
“Not good enough, Penelope! When a gentleman comes to call on you, you must always say yes!”
“Even on our deathbeds,” Pen muttered under her breath.
“Yes, even then,” Portia retaliated. “Martha!” She screamed, calling for Penelope’s maid. “Wear something suitable for your walk with that boy. There will be others who see you in the park.”
“I thought he left?”
“Fortunately, he did not.”
“Mama, he’s not courting me. We’re just friends. You know that, right?”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s a Bridgerton. Where he leads, others will follow and that is the only thing working in your favour in your advanced age.”
And with that statement Portia stormed out, leaving Pen alone with Martha in her chamber.
“These flowers are beautiful, Miss. I’ll put them in water.”
Pen watched as Martha busied herself with the vibrant, varying colors of the bouquet. In one of their letters she had mentioned to Colin about her newfound appreciation of lilies, and apparently he had kept that in mind.
“Shall I fetch the orange dress for you, Miss?” Martha asked, returning to her.
“No, the pale green one please. And the matching shawl.”
As Martha scurried about, Pen took a deep breath to calm her nerves.
***
Penelope exited her home and headed down the stairs, Martha following behind her. Her mother was watching them through the window, taking note of everything going on, and Pen didn’t want to give her mama anything new to harp about. Colin, of course, was using her reticence to his full advantage. He stood on the sidewalk, a wicked smirk on his face, looking more handsome than any gentleman had a right to. Pen ignored the flutter of butterflies in her stomach, reminding herself how angry she was at him. What she wanted to do was take him to task for calling on her when she repeatedly asked him not to. Instead, she was forced to greet him with a stiff smile.
“Mr. Bridgerton,” she said coldly, stopping in front of him.
His smirk transitioned into a full smile. “Pen,” he said with a deliberate languid drawl, trying to goad her no doubt.
“Mama is at the window.”
“I’m aware.” Colin’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Shall we promenade?”
Penelope glanced over her shoulder and found her mother watching her like a hawk. She turned back to Colin. “Forcing me into this wasn’t very gentlemanly of you.”
He quirked his eyebrow. “Perhaps I’m no longer a gentleman.”
“Maybe you never were.”
She wanted to offend him but he seemed impervious to her taunts, instead offering her his arm for their walk together. Aggravated, she ignored him and started down the path by herself. Within seconds he was next to her, his long strides now matching her own pace, with Martha following behind them.   
“Did you like the lilies?” Colin asked.
“I did not.”
He simply smiled. “That’s unfortunate. Maybe I’ll bring roses in the future.”
“Absolutely not!” she huffed. “Mama will get the wrong idea.”
“We are friends, Penelope,” he reminded her. “Friends give each other gifts. We’ve exchanged them in the past.”
“Never in front of Mama!”
“And I’ve visited you before,” he insisted.
“No, you haven’t. We’ve always only spoken at your home or social gatherings. In fact the only other time you came with flowers was to call on Marina.” The grimace on his face made her heart squeeze with envy. Even after all this time simply saying her cousin’s name evoked such a strong reaction in him. But as much as the idea of him still harboring feelings for Marina hurt, she wasn’t going to let pain distract from her focus. “I can’t have you encouraging foolish ideas in Mama’s head.”
He clenched his jaw, agitated. “Is this really about Lady Portia or are you worried your mystery suitor will get jealous?”
She stopped midstride, turning to level him with a hostile glare. “He knows there’s nothing between you and me.”
Colin took a step towards her. The blues of his eyes darkened, blazing with emotion. “Even after last night?” His voice was a throaty murmur, his words only meant for her ears.
Her heart quickened, His gaze drifted down to her lips, pausing momentarily, as if he was remembering touching her, the feel of his hot mouth on her skin. And then his sight travelled lower, to where he licked and kissed her chest, and the lovebites he left on her breasts that she had to scrupulously hide behind a scarf this morning lest her mother noticed. The way he was looking at her set her body on fire, she felt it intimately between her legs.
They were surrounded by people, yet it felt like it was only the two of them. As she found herself drowning in the depth of his eyes, the world ceased to exist.
And then the image of his panic-stricken expression flashed through her mind, reminding her of how horrified he was after kissing her.
Instantly she pulled away, turning away from him. She started walking faster, trying to regain her composure in the few short seconds it took for Colin to catch up to her.
“You can’t pretend it didn’t happen, Pen.”
“You’re right, I can’t. But that doesn’t mean I’ll allow a moment of foolishness to sway me from what’s important.”
“I know you. You wouldn’t have kissed me that way if you really loved someone else.”.
It was the conceit in his words that infuriated her. “Is that so, Colin?” She turned to confront him. “Didn’t you proudly claim to have flirted with half the women in London? I’m sure you’ kissed many of them. Will you stand there and tell me you cared for all of them? That all those ladies held a special place in your heart? Or will you be honest and admit a kiss can just be a kiss without it meaning anything?”
His eyes narrowed onto her. “Do you expect me to believe our kiss meant nothing to you?”
“Don’t treat me like a naïve debutante, Colin. I’m fully aware passion can exist without love.”
“But that wouldn’t be true for us, would it?” He didn’t move, yet it felt like his body swayed closer, encroaching on her personal space, making it impossible for her to think. Even breathe. “Because there is love between us. There always has been.”
Her heart pounded in her chest. For so long she’d yearned for his love, ached for it. Over the years there were so many times she thought herself a fool for even thinking he could love her. But then he would seek her out in a crowd to dance with her, they would talk about things they dare not discuss with others, and the hope in her heart would bloom despite her insecurities. Just like it did now. “Speak clearly, Colin. Do you love me?”
“Of course I love you. I’ve loved you since we were children. You’re my dearest friend.”
“But are you in love with me?”
“Are you?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. There were children playing in the park, families around them talking and laughing. Yet all she felt was Colin’s piercing gaze tear through her, the air thick with tension as the minutes ticked by. “Yes. Even though I desperately wish I wasn’t.”
His face ran the whole gamut of emotions, from utter shock to panic to fear. “I… Pen…”
“You’re not in love with me,” she stated matter-of-factly.
“No.”
His response didn’t come as a surprise, she had always known the truth. And despite the pain that wracked through her, she felt relief. Because she would no longer have to wonder. Now there was certainty and it brought with it a strong desire to move on.
There was much trepidation in his voice as he spoke next. “I’m sorry if I-”
“There’s no need to apologize.” Her voice was calm, steady. “You haven’t done anything wrong.” She glanced behind him, her eyes absently taking in the view behind. “We can’t help who we love.” There was a numbness that slowly spread through her, enveloping her heart, her very being.
“I care for you, Pen. And I know you, you’re kind and sweet and want to see the best in people. Which is why I’m worried-.”
“You don’t know me,” she replied, snapping out of her daze.  His face came back into focus, along with the rest of the world. “Not really. You’ve only seen certain facets, parts that I’ve chosen to show. I’ve always been so worried about what others would think, of being palatable to my family, to you and Eloise, to society… and for what? What was even the point?” She started pacing, her mind reeling.
As much as she aspired to be good, she could never fully commit to it. Lady Whistledown was borne from the part of her that wanted retribution against the ton for always ignoring her. In the clear light of day she was voiceless and unwanted, but in the shadows was where she thrived, where her words meant something and she had value and control. There was a time when she used to think the different parts of her could coexist and she could still be more good than bad, but Eloise’s words during their last argument proved otherwise.
“What are you talking about?” He blocked her path, forcing her to look up at him. A confused expression marked his beautiful face. ”I’ve always known who you are.”
She peered up at him. Everything he said about her – kind and sweet and only seeing the best in people – was actually true of Colin himself. He deserved someone who was equally beautiful and kind, and that would never be her.   “You’ve been a good friend, to me and my family. And I appreciate your concern but I can look out for myself. Arthur is a good man-”
“Arthur?” The sudden vitriol in Colin’s voice was sharp. “Arthur what?”
“That’s not important,” she said dismissively. “What matters is you no longer have to worry about me, Colin. I absolve you of that responsibility.”
“You do, do you?” Anger laced his voice, his eyes growing dark with contempt. “Because of this Arthur?” He took a step forward, crowding her, the proximity between them so close that she could feel his breath humming her skin, could almost feel the touch of his fingers against her gloves. “Tell me, Penelope, does he know you?  Did you show him all the parts of you that you claim to have kept hidden from the rest of us?”
Irritation surged through her at his mocking tone, but she reminded herself to be patient. “He understands me better than most.”
“A man you’ve known for mere months?” Colin’s eyes glistened with fury. “Why does he get that privilege? What has he done to earn your trust so easily?”
The hate in his voice took her by surprise. “Why are you behaving this way, Colin? I thought you would be happy for me.”
Jaw clenched, anger masking his features, his eyes roamed over her face. “You expect me to live a life without you in it and be happy about it?”
“So what should I do, be a spinster for the rest of my life to appease you? Do you not see how selfish that is?”
“I don’t give a damn!”
Penelope noticed the glances thrown in their direction, the look of concern in Martha’s face. Even though Colin hadn’t raised his voice, the tension on his face made it clear they were having an argument. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm him down. “This isn’t who you are, Colin.”
“Isn’t it? Maybe it’s you who doesn’t know me.” He dipped his head lower, his eyes smoldering with rage. “Maybe I’ve always been unreasonable and selfish. Maybe I’m willing to do whatever it takes to protect the people who matter to me.”
She didn’t know if the threat in his voice was deliberately meant to scare her but it elicited the opposite reaction, provoking her anger. “You’re not my guardian or my protector. I’m not your responsibility. I don’t need anything from you.”
Instead of backing off, his voice grew more determined. “You don’t have a choice in this matter, Penelope. I will not lose you.”
“Except I’m not yours to lose. I do not belong to you. You don’t get to make demands on me when you don’t even love me,” she reminded him coldly. “I will marry the man I choose and live the life I want. And it’s you who has no say in that matter.”
Feeling strongly in her resolve, she turned and walked away.
To be continued...
A/N - Thank you for reading. If you have the time, I'd love to read your feedback!
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nerdieforpedro · 2 days
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Day Twenty Seven - Nature Walk
Word Count: 570
Warnings: Cute Pero ❤️
Notes: I wanted married Pero back. He’s adorable. There was a bathtub last time so now we have new things.
Main Masterlist / March Spring Prompts 2024 / Writing Challenges
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“Mi amor (my love), who do you go with when I am away?” Your husband Pero asked as the two of you walked through the forest that was about five kilometers away from your home. He held your hand as the two of you made your way on your usual path collecting herbs that you use in your salves. Shaking your head, you pull out the knife Pero had given you six months into your courtship.
“This keeps me safe Pero. I am careful. Do not worry so much. I always let the neighbors know when I go foraging.” You respond in a calm tone, you hope to calm his fears somewhat. Now that he’s been home a few months, your husband has been observing your routine and although he’s been a boon in most areas, gathering supplies is where you struggle. Not because he can’t carry things or doesn’t listen when you tell him what’s poisonous or safe. It’s because he constantly complains that you should not doing this alone and also blames himself for not making more to keep him home longer.
“I do not like it at all mi vida (my life). My next jobs need to be much higher paying. Something I can retire on and remain with you. To keep you safe. There’s no point in earning the coin if you’re not here when I come home.” Pero stops as you pick some lavender and sage, adding it to your basket. You’d love him to be home. Your strong, loving sweet bear of a husband. Fierce as he is loving. He was kind when others sought to just take advantage of you, supported your apprenticeship (maybe making it much easier for you to take over from the previous old man via intimidation) and is always gentle when he comes home, except in one area which it’s highly encouraged by you that he uses his strength. “Maybe I should not leave at all this time. Extend my break. I shall hone my skills, see if there are any local jobs.” Pero cuts some bark off a tree a few meters away, correctly identifying it as peppermint.
“I don’t want you to give up your livelihood for mine Pero. I will be fine like I always have been while you’re gone.” The touch of your hand to his shoulder had him look at you again.
Throwing an arm around you and kissing your cheek, Pero grumbles in your ear, “It’s not much of a life without you in it mi corazón (my heart). I wouldn't mind being one of those fat happy husbands.”
From your laugh, it makes him grin, making his beard scratch your neck, “I can give you both Pero no matter if you stay or not.”
“For now I shall stay by your side, only if a job has a large enough reward will I leave your side again mi amor.” Moving from behind you, he took your hand in his and continued down your usual path of herbs, gathering together. The time was finite but the married couple would spend it wisely together.
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fuubutsushi · 10 months
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// i don't remember the goddamn context of this anymore but this is still too fucking funny and it takes me out every single time i can't leave it in the inbox anymore @rockheadcd fuck you too!
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lilibethwrites · 1 year
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Hello! you would write to aemond x reader. Where she goes to Storm's End, trading instead of her brother, and instead of asking for Lucerys' eye, Aemond claims her as his wife.
To Have and to Hold
Aemond Targaryen x F!Velaryon (Strong)!Reader
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Warnings: violence, NSFW, incest
Word count: 3583
A.N: Reader is the middle sister of Lucerys and Jacaerys. This is a good old enemies-to-lovers story with a happy ending.
The family was gathered around the painted table. Plans were made and changed and remade altogether in mere seconds, the lords loyal to your mother scrambling to do everything all at once to secure her rightful claim to the throne.
“Send us, mother. Dragons are faster than ravens,” Jacaerys insisted when the matter of reaffirming old oaths came up.
On your mother’s command, he was to fly south and Lucerys was to fly north, to Storm’s End. Luke agreed to the task, yet you could tell his hesitance from the way he tried to conceal his fidgeting. The rattled nerves made him seem smaller than he was as he hunched over, nodding to the duty given to him.
So you stepped up, though only after the meeting was adjourned. Lucerys was too proud to allow what you have intended otherwise, but you were too fond of your baby brother to let him fly through the treacherous weather of the North alone.
“Mother. A word, please?”
Rhaenyra intended Lucerys to familiarize himself with diplomatic duties which were sure to come in waves following her own coronation. Your proposal was compelling nevertheless. Storm’s End was a flight too difficult for your younger brother to make alone, and you as his companion might soothe his nerves and might even compel Lord Borros Baratheon to be kinder to the message you were to deliver.
“Very well, then,” Rhaenyra reluctantly agreed to your proposal but only on the condition that you would go in peace: as envoys and not as warriors.
The flight to Storm’s End was uneventful. With jokes and friendly teasing, it almost felt like your regular flights above the Dragonstone on beautiful mornings and starry nights. Except there was strong wind and downpour all at once, and Lucerys became quieter as you approached your destination.
“Come on, Luke. I will race you to the courtyard!”
Your dragon was older, not big enough on her own to be considered mature yet, but bigger in comparison to Arrax, which made Arrax faster in contrast.
So Luke landed first, and you were mere minutes behind him.
“Well done, brother. You beat me. You shall have my slice of the pie this supper.”
But Lucerys didn’t seem excited about what would make him jump up and down if it were any other time. He didn’t even smile. He was facing his sister with a hand gripping the saddle on Arrax and the other clutching the hilt of his sword, but his young face was contorted in concern as he looked through her. If you hadn’t known him better, you’d almost misread it for fear.
“What is it?” You asked, but Luke only remained motionless, looking beyond to the walls of the keep.
It was then that you saw it in the flash of lightning that lit up the sky for a moment. Vhagar. She was big enough to make the outer walls of the keep seem like miniatures. You gulped, though remained stoic on the outside for the sake of your younger brother. You accompanied him to support him, not to plummet him down into the endless pit of fear. Vhagar meant, however, the Prince you’d rather see the least had beaten you to Lord Borros. You only hoped he was given a chamber of his own, and you’d deliver your message and slip out without ever facing him.
“Come on, Luke. Let us haste. Mother’s expecting us back for supper.”
The dark and empty hall was as hostile as its Lord. And in the corner stood Aemond Targaryen with one of Lord Borros’ daughters. She seemed tense. You could tell, because so were you.
“Come on, Luke.” You nudged your brother, and he held the sealed message out for the guards.
As the Maester to Lord Borros slowly dragged his feet to his master’s seat and relayed the message to him in hushed whispers, your eyes were trained on Aemond’s. He stood tall and proud, looking at you and your brother with disdain in his eyes and disgust in the way his lips curled up.
Luke clutched his sword once again, and you squeezed his shoulder. “Let go of it, brother. Remember your oath to mother.”
With Luke unable to marry, Lord Borros without a son to offer you, and most importantly, with sweet promises laced with poison seeping into his ear all the way from King’s Landing, Borros Baratheon broke his oath. On any other day, you’d remain and quarrel, threaten the Baratheon forces to bend the knee to the true Queen and not to the Usurper King, but on that day, you wished nothing more than to escort your brother out to safety.
“We thank you for your consideration, Lord Borros,” you spoke without reverence. A turncloak deserved only the traitor’s death. But you’d return for it another day.
Meanwhile, Aemond’s gaze burned into the back of your head as you put a hand on Luke’s back to signal him it was way past your time for departure.
“Wait, my Lord and Lady Strong!” Aemond’s humiliating tone echoed off the walls.
“Luke—”
Fiery as ever, Luke shrugged your hand off and turned on his heels to face Aemond.
“Mind your tongue! Apologize to my dear sister right now!”
“Hm. How about you apologize to me for trying to steal my brother’s crown, traitor?”
“I will do no such thing!”
“Then you are a coward as well as a traitor and I will have your eye, bastard.”
Aemond ripped the dagger from its sheath and threw it flying towards Y/N and her older brother.
With each lightning that struck, the sapphire eye in place of the one Luke once slashed out glimmered. It seemed as if it had a mind of its own, no doubt just as vile and dangerous as its owner.
“As payment for mine.”
“No,” Lucerys stood his ground.
Aemond all but jumped forward then, spurred on by the courage of a boy he saw inferior to him in all regards. Lucerys to stand against him, tall and proud, was a massive hit to his pride.
As Aemond picked up his dagger and moved for Lucerys, you stepped in between your brother and uncle.
“NO! No!”
Your intervention caught Aemond by surprise. He was intrigued, amused, even. What a fine, fiery woman his nephew has turned out to be. Shame she was a bastard all the same.
“Please— Aemond. My Prince. Please—”
“What? Do you plead to pitch in?” he stared into Y/N’s eyes then. He was unyielding, unflinching.
“Luke, go. I command you. As your sister, I command you to leave!” You pleaded with Lucerys, but he stood unmoving behind you.
“Lucerys!”
“No…” Aemond was amused. “No, your eyes are of no value to me. I want his eye!”
Luke would have escaped had it not been for his older sister. He would have turned around and made it to his dragon as you demanded. Yet, only a few acts were more loathsome than leaving kin to the wolves. Besides, Rhaenyra would’ve shredded him to bits and fed him to Arrax for all to see.
So Luke kneeled to take the dagger. Aemond’s request was fair after all.
“Perhaps not my eyes,” You spoke hastily with your hand wrapped around Luke’s wrist in an effort to stop him.
“But demand what you deem worthy of me and you shall have it. I beg of you, Aemond. Let my baby brother return to our mother. He came only as an envoy. He means no harm to you.”
“Hm.” He seemed to consider the offer genuinely that time. “As if you could harm me if you tried. Well, it seems the girl has bigger balls than you, bastard. You’re strong only in name, Lord Strong.”
Then he turned his attention back to you with a cruel smirk that pressed his lips into a thin line.
“You would trade your life, no matter how worthless, for your bastard brother?”
“If it is my life you demand, you shall have it. But allow my brother safe passage first.”
It was Lucerys’ turn to protest then, but you took a step forward, hoping that Aemond would be merciful enough to at least spare your brother the grim sight of the execution of his sister.
“I won’t kill you, dear Nephew. Oh, no. That would be entertainment for what? an hour? No, I will marry you,” His eye widened and he grinned as if a child got a platter of cakes and pies all to himself.
“Go on, then, pup,” He nodded to Lucerys pulling at the sleeves of your damp travelling coat, begging you to stop.
“Go with your worthless life and carry the heavy news to your false Queen—that her daughter is to be defiled by Prince Aemond. Perhaps she will be overjoyed to see what true Targaryen offspring looks like.”
You were trembling then. From standing in a stone hall, dripping head to toe from the downpour you have just escaped from, or from the cruel design Aemond has traded you for your brother’s eye, you didn’t know.
Your brother was looking at you incredulously, clutching Aemond’s dagger with his shaking hand.
“Go—go, Lucerys,” you mumbled between shaky breaths that threatened to explode into a sobbing fit. “You’ve heard Prince Aemond. Relay the news to the Queen.”
“Sister—I won’t leave you—”
“How sad,” Aemond spoke joylessly, mocking Luke with his lips downturned in an exaggerated fashion. “Will you cry, pup?”
“Sister, I shall return. I promise—”
“You will do no such thing, Lucerys,” your back was turned to him, your tears concealed from his vision. “Now go.”
“Oh, and I will have this back,” Aemond reached behind Lucerys, tearing the dagger from his hand and sheating it back to its place on his belt.
Aemond took his leave after Lucerys’, all but dragging you to Vhagar. You grappled to reach for your own dragon but to no avail. Aemond’s vice grip would sooner rip your arm from your shoulder before he let you loose.
“Did you think I would let you fly on your own? What do you take me for, a fool?”
“No. You are no fool. But you are a cruel monster.”
It seemed to please him, and he snorted.
 “A monster who is nought but a bully had it not been for his dragon!”
That, however, seemed to have gotten to him. He stopped in his track under the downpour abruptly and struck you across the face. It was your time to grin. For all his quiet mystery, his underbelly was clear as day.
“My Prince forgets who was there on the night he usurped Vhagar from her rightful successors. You were but a scared child who stole what you did not deserve.”
His fingers wrapped around your neck, squeezing so tight that your vision soon turned blurry and you gasped desperately, clawing at his on your throat. There was nothing but fury in his eye, wide with surprise that a woman would speak so plainly to him, and red with rage and the rain.
“Speak but another word and I shall send your skull to your whore of a mother!”
He let go and you collapsed to your knees, coughing and gasping for air. Then came waves of hiccups and sobs, not out of fear or misery but out of utter wrath.
“Save your tears. If it is sympathy you hope for, you shall get none from me. You are a foul bastard just like the rest of your brood and you shall be treated as one.”
Deep down, however, the deal he had just struck excited Aemond. His mouth watered at the thought of his reluctant but fiery bride in their marital bed, as they consummated the marriage and repeated the act over and over again until her belly was swollen and ran around the Red Keep children of Aemond’s own.
She was still a filthy bastard in his eye, yet if he had to choose one of his nieces to tolerate, he’d gladly choose Y/N over the others. Back when they all grew up on King’s Landing, he did have a crush on her, after all. Though it was silly, and he ripped the roots of it long ago. At least he thought so.
Something about her dark hair, livelier complexion, and eyes… her eyes. The defiance and pride in them. And she was brave; braver than most, braver than even his drunk, sorry excuse of a brother and father.
Back at King’s Landing, Alicent was rightfully outraged by the turn of events. Of course, you didn’t expect a warm welcome from your mother-in-law, and you didn’t get one.
Most of your days leading up to the wedding were spent in a chamber of your own with your door locked and latched on you and with a Kingsguard standing watch at all times. It was lonely, except for when Aemond came to visit, which he did almost every night.
He sat by the fireplace and you sat on the bed. Though at first not a lot of words were spoken, soon you realized just how much his conversation entertained you, and that you looked forward to his visits.
It was one of those nights that he stopped by with a heavy book under his arm.
“I had the Maester copy this for you,” he spoke dryly, but he had a hint of a self-satisfied smile on his lips.
He set the book down on the table and flipped through the pages.
“If you put your nose to it, you can still smell the ink.”
Aemond didn’t expect you to indulge him the way you did. You walked up to him, and with your cheek to his, joined him in inhaling the scent of ink on parchment pages.
“What is it about? The book?” You asked with genuine interest, flipping through the pages as Aemond pulled away to look at you incredulously. You weren’t resisting him, dismissing him, or threatening him with a slit throat in his sleep as you usually did.
“It’s—it’s on the history of Valyria. This is the first volume of many.”
“Oh, I remember this book.”
“You do?”
“Yes!” You pulled away with a proud smile of your own. For a moment, you looked like two ordinary lovers conversing by the fire, not enemies who supposed to hate each other and about to be united only as torture for one another.
“Remember Aunt Leana’s funeral?”
Of course he did. That was when you mocked Aemond for not being a dragon rider still, and told him the Gods were cruel not to give him the handsome face Aegon was blessed with. How silly were you back then. But how could you know that Aemond would grow up to be the Prince you’d fall for day after day?
“Yes?” he responded warily.
“Well, you were reading this then. I tore a page out, and you were so cross you told on me to my mother,” you giggled, giving him a playful slap on the shoulder before seating yourself by the fireplace.
Aemond smiled as well, approaching his usual seat cautiously as if not to spook a skittish prey. When you nursed your cup of wine without a flinch, he sat by you. Though his face was turned to the fire, he stole quick glances at your face, your neckline revealed by your evening robe, and your delicate, ringed fingers wrapped around the cup.
“Regretfully, you were fluent in High Valyrian back then and I knew very little, and nothing much has changed ever since.”
“Oh,” Aemond caught your eyes, searching for the dark, burning dislike you had for him that he came to expect. Instead your face was relaxed, and your eyes were almost that of a lover’s. Then, you reached for his hand. It must be the wine, Aemond thought. What else?
“You shall have to teach me.”
“I shall arrange the Maester—”
“I asked you, Aemond, not the Maester.”
From then on, Aemond visited you every night without fail. He came earlier and left later into the night. Though he always brought books, parchment and ink, very little High Valyrian was actually studied. His days were eventful and you loved to listen, and he loved the way you reminisced their days of youth.
So, on a night like that, with your hand on his over the table, you spoke the words that almost stopped his heart.
“I wish you would stay the night, Aemond. It gets awfully lonely some nights.”
He blinked a few times, unsure if his ears heard what you spoke, or what he so desperately wished you would.
“It—it would be improper before the wedding.”
“You took me hostage, Aemond. Traditions are obeyed very little in our marriage.”
That night was the first time you called what was slowly blossoming between him and you a marriage. The words you spoke took him by surprise, just as the way you said them—playfully, with no hatred or resentment.
“You offered yourself up. I was content enough having your brother’s eye.” That was Aemond’s attempt at humour in response, a macabre and perhaps a twisted one that would have gotten raise out of any other woman. Yet you only looked at him for a second, then laughed.
“Yet you did not have to lock me up. I would not have run.”
“No, but my brother would have stolen you from me.”
“Oh, surely. Aegon did promise to demonstrate to me… what was it? Real manhood in case you ever failed to do so.”
“He did?” Aemond frowned. Was that what jealousy felt like?
“Mmhm. I told him I was confident you would make a good husband.”
Though the ceremony was mere days away, Aemond was still not used to being called your husband, especially by you, and he barely got used to wearing a band of gold around his ring finger.
“This would be a good time to say that I would make a good wife, as well,” you joked, hoping to pull Aemond out of his moment of silence.
Instead, Aemond stared at you. He was unblinking and impossible to read. Indeed because his face was impossible to read, it came to you as a surprise when he closed the distance between you and himself and locked his lips with yours.
It was gentle, way gentler than you assumed Aemond was capable of. When he pulled back just enough to study your face, you only whispered “Do it again.”
The caution and restraint went out the window then. His tongue danced across yours and you gripped each other desperately, pulling at your clothes and moaning your names.
Aemond ended up not only staying the night as you asked but consummating your marriage even before the ceremony itself.
It was gentle and cautious at first, but only briefly, before baser and more primal urges overtook you both. You woke up in Aemond’s arms with a dull but sweet ache between your legs and marks in the shape of his mouth and fingers all over your body. Likewise, Aemond woke up with raw lines of skin where your nails had dug into his flesh.
You took your bath together, and Aemond postponed his sword practice for a private noon at the library with you. Though it came as a surprise to neither of you that there was more kissing and touching than reading.
Then, things changed rapidly. Your door was no longer locked, though that might very well be because you all but moved into Aemond’s quarters. You became inseparable. You were there with a book or your embroidery when Aemond trained, you flew together, broke fast and had supper together in his bedchamber.
The only time you regretfully parted was when Alicent—who also surprisingly became like a mother to you, and you a daughter to her— insisted that your fitting for the wedding gown must be kept private and away from the prying eye of the groom. It was bad luck, she insisted, if Aemond saw you in your gown before the ceremony.
“And have you asked mother and the Septa if it is good luck or bad if I have you in your gown?” Aemond teased you, making you blush whenever his words came back to you as the tailors worked ceaselessly to finish the dress before the ceremony.
Neither of you could say if it was indeed bad luck or not, but you found out that it was delightful when Aemond lifted your heavy skirt up and snuck between your legs on your wedding night. He had you in it, just as he promised. Though it was a shame that he grew too impatient to undo the ribbons and laces, so he instead tore and ripped the dress apart, leaving it as a cut of tattered, expensive silk on the floor as the night went on.
You saw the sorry state of the dress in the morning. Well, as much of it as you could see from Aemond’s arms around you, keeping you flush on his body.
“Aemond! You shall never see me wear a lovely dress as this once was for you again!” 
“My sweet wife, you should not wear anything for me,” Aemond whispered groggily, still in the sweet clutches of slumber, and he pulled you for a kiss that promised you would not be leaving his bedchamber for the day.
Aemond Tag (let me know if you'd like to be added to it):
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notafunkiller · 10 months
Text
love me like you paid me - co-written with @marvelouslizzie​
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Summary: You accompany businessman Bucky Barnes to all the events he has to attend, and you find yourself wishing he wasn’t paying you to be his date.
Pairing: businessman!Bucky Barnes x female reader
Warnings: 18+, age gap (the reader is 24, Bucky is 34), teasing, dirty talk, pet names, daddy kink, fingering, nipples play, oral sex, clit play, no condom (but they are both clean and the reader is on birth control), cursing, no mention of y/n 
Word Count: 11K
Bucky Barnes masterlist
A/N: @marvelouslizzie and I had a great time writing this story, and we really hope you will, too, while reading it.
Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!
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> I think I'll be late for a couple of minutes, I am very sorry. You can go inside, you just need to say your name.
You look at the text he sent you once again, to make sure you didn’t miss any details. The thought of going inside alone spikes up your anxiety even though you never met him before. Everything looks so fancy, and you are already feeling out of place.
So you decide to wait. It's better for appearances, anyway. You didn't properly establish the context of you being his plus-one before, and you don't want to make mistakes.
And it doesn't even take a long time. He arrives just five or six minutes later. You watch him get out of the car and look around before your eyes finally meet for the first time.
"I am so, so sorry for being late. But why are you standing here?" He says awkwardly looking at you from head to toe twice as he starts arranging his suit jacket.
“I thought it would be better if we go inside together. It wouldn't look too convincing if we came separately.”
He nods. "Smart. I'm sorry, I'm..." He pauses, unsure, and extends his hand. "You're very beautiful, thank you. I'm Bucky."
You offer him a smile while extending your hand and giving him your name. “Thank you. You’re looking very dapper yourself.”
He snorts. "Not thanks to me."
“Huh?” You raise an eyebrow in confusion.
"I meant my stylist." He explains, freeing your hand.
“Oh.” You feel awkward. You didn’t even think about that. “Yeah, but you are carrying it well.”
You see his cheeks getting red. "Thank you. Shall we go inside?"
“Yeah, of course.” You offer him your arm.
"I think I should be doing that." He does the same thing.
You feel so embarrassed for a second but take his arm anyway. “Sorry. I’m just nervous.”
“Don't be sorry." He gives the man at the entrance a smile before saying your names, and in no time, you are led to your table.
You take a look around, trying to be as subtle as possible. It’s even fancier than it seemed when you were waiting for him outside and people seem to know one another as they greet and talk to each other. You feel a faint pain in your stomach.
"You know… in case someone asks you, my three favorite things are eating my family and not using commas."
“What?” You feel so lost.
"My three favorite things are eating my family and not using commas." He repeats this expired joke he read online at some point. "You know, eating my family and eating, my family."
You suddenly snort, not expecting him to make a joke like this.
"I guess you can smile, and what a beautiful smile you have." He pauses and scrunches his nose as soon as he finishes the phrase. "I don't mean to be you know... I am not trying to...."
“You are not trying to what?” You’re still smiling because of his dad joke, totally unaware of why he’s trying to explain himself.
"To make you uncomfortable or something. I just wanted to help you feel better. I am surprised, though. Usually, models feel a little less nervous."
“Model?” You repeat, visibly confused. “I’m… I’m not a model.” Did they tell him you were a model?
"Oh, it explains the height." He lets out a deep breath.
“The height?” You can’t believe he actually said that. Like your height isn’t good enough for his standards. Probably, you aren’t good enough for his standard since you aren’t a model.
"Oh god, no." He groans. "That sounded terrible. I meant, models usually are very tall and look... different. I told them I don't want a model, but my team didn't quite listen. That’s why I said that."
“So you aren’t the one who specifically wanted a model?”
"God, no." He shakes his head. "I actually chose you." He scrunches his nose again. "That sounds even more terrible."
“I know you chose me. How do you think they found a photo of me to send you?”
Bucky snorts. "I should shut up."
“No, no. I mean…” You lower your voice a little to make sure no one hears you. “I was aware of what this is when I said yes. It’s fine.”
"I am making a fool out of myself, I am sorry."
“No, you are not. It’s actually helping me to relax because I was really worried about…” You stop yourself right before saying something stupid.
"Did I seem intimidating?"
“Yeah.” You quickly accept it because his choice of words is much nicer than what you were originally thinking. You expected him to be a pretentious asshole. Instead, he seems like he’s just as nervous as you are.
He smiles. "What would you like to drink?"
“White wine is fine.” It seems like a safe choice.
"I love wine." He smiles. "And to be honest, it’s the only thing I drink at those events. Oh, and champagne, of course."
“That also works, but I can’t have too much.”
"Want to order food before?"
“No, not because of that. I have an early work meeting tomorrow.”
"Oh, we can leave earlier." He immediately offers. "I don't stick much around usually, anyway."
“That’s not necessary, we can stay as much as you want. I’m already prepared for my meeting. I just don’t want to seem unprofessional tomorrow by looking like I have a huge hangover. I kinda need it to go well.”
"What do you do if you're not a model?" He asks with a smile, genuinely curious to find out more information.
“I am running my own bakery.”
"That sounds so awesome. Family business?"
“No. I actually started it pretty recently. Still learning how to manage a business and get clients.” You suddenly stop, feeling self-conscious. “Sorry. That must sound really silly to you.”
"Silly?" He tries to tuck back a few strands of his hair as he looks at you. "I want to know more. If you want to share of course. Maybe I can even help. I know how hard it can be, especially when you don't have experience. Do you have a partner?"
“No.” You can’t help but smile because he seems genuinely interested. “I’m doing it by myself. Or rather trying.”
"Wow, that must be exhausting and challenging. Do you have employers? How new..." he stops mid-sentence when the waiter comes. "Can you bring us some white wine, please?"
"What kind?"
You watch him as he casually orders a specific brand, then his eyes meet yours again. You realize he’s actually waiting for your answer. “I have one person that works with me.”
"Paying a salary must be hard."
“Yeah, money is kinda tight.” That’s the whole reason you accepted being his date tonight: you want to be able to pay Nicole’s salary, but you don’t say that.
"I'm sorry." He sighs. "Maybe I can help, though." He thinks about a donation or something, but he doesn't even know you or your business.
“You already are. Don’t worry about it.”
The waiter returns with the wine, asking you if you want to taste it, but Bucky gives him a polite smile after looking at you. "Thank you, but no need."
The man nods and starts pouring slowly.
When you taste the wine, you understand why he specifically asked for this one. It leaves a really gentle after-taste on your tongue.
"Do you like it?" He asks nervously as he takes a sip himself.
“Very much. Probably the best wine I have ever tasted.”
"I am so glad to hear that. But did you eat anything before coming here?”
“Ihm… No.”
"Then we should order. Excuse me," he calls the waiter again with a hand gesture.
While he is ordering food, you find the perfect moment to stare at him. He’s speaking in a way that shows he belongs here. He is kind yet commanding. You focus on his face and watch a strand fall on his forehead. He doesn’t pay any attention to it, just gently pushing it back, but you find yourself taking a deeper breath. His lips are full, his smile is gentle and his eyes are curious. That’s when you notice he is actually talking to you.
"Do you have preferences?"
You shake your head. You have no idea what preference he is talking about, but even if you did you are sure you would have no idea what to order in a place like this.
"Do you trust me with this?" 
“Yeah.” You quickly answer to cover the fact that you weren’t paying attention to his food choices. “Just no sea food, please.”
"Of course." He nods and turns his attention to the waiter again. "The same for her, please. Also a bottle of water."
*
It's already pretty late, and it's clear neither of you has much energy left, but you can't interrupt this conversation. You are trying to listen so you can be prepared if they ask you something.
"I agree, the market doesn't look good, but let's see if something changes once they apply the new policies," he says looking at both of you for a couple of seconds. "It's hard for new businesses, unfortunately."
You take a deep breath, knowing what he says is true and how it affects you. Still, you don’t comment on anything, just watching them.
Bucky leans in, laughing politely when the man cracks a bad joke, and you notice how a few  hair strands fall on the side of his face and forehead.
Before your mind can register what you are doing, you find yourself leaning towards him and pushing the hair back. Then you notice what you’ve just done and freeze. Your hand lingers on his hair.
He freezes too, mid-sentence, and looks at your hand, his neck getting so red in just a few seconds.
"Oh, look at that. Your girlfriend is taking good care of you." The man in front of you teases. 
“I’m sorry.” You try to retreat your hands as gracefully as possible so it won’t look suspicious. His hair is back in its place.
"Don't apologize." Bucky smiles, taking your hand into his. "She's always shy in public."
“I forgot for a second we are in public.” That’s not a lie. You really forgot your surroundings and how you were supposed to behave.
"What a beautiful girlfriend you have, Barnes."
You can feel your cheeks burning because of his words. You are not his girlfriend obviously, but will he point that out?
"She's also incredibly smart. You know, she started her own bakery a few months ago in this crazy market."
“Really?”
"Yes, with no help either. I'm really proud of her."
Did he just say he’s proud of you? Jesus christ…
“That doesn’t surprise me at all. You know why?” He’s directly asking you that question, and you just shake your head as in no. “Because he started his own company, probably around your age, too.”
"Michael..."
That you didn’t know. You had no idea how he got this rich, and hearing that makes you feel more hopeful.
“I’m just saying.” The man continues. “I can see why you like her. And she’s pretty lucky because she can get the best investment advice or tips on how to run a successful business from you.”
"Oh, trust me, I am luckier." He gives you the warmest smile you've ever received.
You have no idea what to say or do. Should you act like his girlfriend? Should you just smile and nod? That would be rude, wouldn’t it? You should return the compliment. You would definitely do that if he was your boyfriend. 
“Oh, I know how lucky I am,” you say with a smile.
Bucky takes a quick look at his watch. "Alright, I think we need to go. Tomorrow is a long work day. Hope you don't mind." He shakes Michael's hand.
"It was nice to see you."
You are glad it’s finally time to leave. You were getting worried about how much longer you would have to stay here. Not because of him. Bucky seems like a perfectly nice guy, but this fancy place makes you uncomfortable. You gently smile while shaking Michael’s hand and take Bucky’s arm.
"Have a good evening. It was nice to meet you."
“It was nice meeting you too, Michael.”
"I'm sorry for that. Took too long," Bucky whispers in your ear.
“The event isn’t even over yet. We are leaving early.” He shouldn’t have to say sorry for something you agreed to do.
"Is it okay if we drive you home?" He gestures to his driver who's pulling in. You didn't even realize when he texted him.
“You don’t have to, I can take a cab.”
"At this hour?" He puffs. "Not in a thousand years. My driver can drop you off." Bucky offers instantly. It's clear he won't let this go.
“Only if it won’t be a bother…”
"Of course not." He gestures to his driver. "I want you to drop the lady off and make sure she gets inside safely, please. I'll take a cab."
“What?” You didn’t expect him to take a cab. “No, I can’t accept that.”
"Please. Also thank you for tonight, I am really grateful and I enjoyed having you here."
“Bucky…” You stop for a second, feeling hesitation over using his name. “Can I call you Bucky?”
"Of course."
“Bucky, thank you for tonight. I enjoyed it more than I expected. You are a gentleman, but I can’t take your car. I thought you meant dropping me at my place on your way home.”
"I thought..." he pauses. "You felt uncomfortable around me and that's why you refused the ride."
“No. Why would I feel uncomfortable around you?”
He smiles shyly and opens the door for you. "Alright, then let's go."
You really don’t know why he thought that and it bothers you. While you take your seat, you decide to apologize for what happened in there. Maybe that’s why he felt uneasy.
He looks absolutely confused when you actually say the words. "What?"
“I am just really sorry about what I did back there. I don’t know what came over me.”
"What did you do?”
“You know… Making you uncomfortable by fixing your hair.”
Bucky can't help but giggle softly. "Why would you apologize for that? That was very thoughtful, thanks."
His giggle catches you off guard. “I thought… I crossed a boundary.”
"No, not at all. Sorry for the boring conversations."
“It wasn’t that boring. I actually learned a couple of things.”
Bucky smiles. "Did you? Not surprised, you're a businesswoman after all."
“I try to be.” You smile back even though you are feeling kinda sad that your time with him is about to end.
"I think you have a big potential. You control your emotions very well. You are smart and know how to enjoy good wine." He gives you a playful but innocent wink as he says the last part.
“And now I know you, so I can ask for business advice.” You repeat Michael’s words very poorly.
Bucky nods. "Of course. And you know maybe I can help... with a donation."
“A donation?” You really didn’t mean to sound that offended, but you are.
He frowns. "Yeah, I really think you got potential in business and it's hard when no one helps you."
Talking about money always bothers you. Getting paid for going out with someone already feels wrong enough, but the way he walks about it makes you feel worse. 
“Can we…. not… talk about this?” Your discomfort is much more clear in your voice than you realize.
"I-Of course, sorry if I bothered you," he immediately says apologetically.
“Talking about money like this bothers me and… just to be clear, I don’t want any help.”
"I understand. I wasn't trying to intrude."
You offer him a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.
"I'm really so-"
"Is this the right address?" The driver interrupts Bucky all of a sudden.
“Yeah, it is.” Your answer comes instantly.
"Perfect."
“Thank you…” You stop for a minute realizing you don’t know his name. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name before.”
"Noah."
“Thank you, Noah.” Then you turn to Bucky. “And thank you for tonight, Bucky.”
"Thank you." You give him one more smile before opening the door. "Wait."
“What?”
"Are you free on 18?"
“I… think so. Why?”
"I have a proposal for you."
*
As the 18th comes closer, you get more worried about what to wear. You used your fanciest dress at that event and now your options are pretty limited. You search your closet and try to think of a friend who would let you borrow a dress. That’s when you finally see that simple black dress. That might work. When you put it on, your feelings are conflicted, though. It looks good on you, but it doesn’t seem good enough. You are not completely sure about how fancy this event is. Maybe… maybe you can ask him. 
< Hey. Sorry to bother you but how fancy is this event?
> Hey, no bother. Like the one we attended.
> Why?
< I’m not sure about my dress. Is it okay if I show it to you? I don’t wanna be underdressed.
> I am sure that's impossible but of course.
You send a mirror selfie, showing your dress.
>You look very beautiful.
>The dress is absolutely amazing too, but it's a black-tie event. Would you consider me disrespectful if I sent my stylist to you?
< Thank you. 
< No, of course not. I need help. I would appreciate it.
> Gonna send Lila a message and then I'll give her your number if that's okay.
< That’s perfectly okay. Thank you and again sorry to bother you with something like this.
> You don't bother me.
> I mean it.
< I know you are busy. That’s what I meant.
> Well, I am sure you are very busy yourself.
> How is the bakery and how was the meeting?
< I’m done working for the day. So I get to worry about the dress I’m gonna wear.
< The meeting went well but I didn’t hear anything from them yet.
> I hope it was a full day.
> I mean with many clients.
> And I hope they will give you a call.
< It was a tiring day. How was yours?
> Tiring, but productive, thank you for asking.
> Lila will call you in two minutes. She's a nice person. She manages to make me look decent every time.
< You look more than decent and I don’t think it’s all her doing.
5 minutes later
< Talked to Lila. We go shopping tomorrow. Thanks again for the help.
> Don't thank me for that. My pleasure. Have a good evening.
< You too.
The next day, you meet Lila and go shopping together like you agreed. She seems like a fun person and definitely understands your style. Her suggestions are great. but the only problem is the cost When you notice the price tags, you want to leave, but she assures you that it is all taken care of. That’s when you realize Bucky Barnes is paying for this shopping trip. You feel dumb for not thinking about this while talking to him. That’s why he was guarded when he offered help. That usually restlessness creeps up on you because you don’t want his help like this, but Lila convinces you that he is the reason you need new dresses anyway. And it is true. He is dressing you so you look the part. That eases your anxiety and finally, you are able to enjoy your dress hunt. When you come back home, you are completely exhausted but ready for any event he might want to take you. 
*
> Hi
> How are you?
< I’m good, getting ready. How are you?
> I am good too.
> I was wondering if you mind me picking you up...
< You wanna pick me up?
> Yes. I might need your address again, though.
< Noah doesn’t remember?
< I am picking you up.
Oh.
> You should say no if you don't want that.
< No, why wouldn’t I? I just didn’t think you would come without your driver for some reason.
> Do you want me to come with Noah?
> I can.
< I don’t need someone extra to feel comfortable around you, Bucky. 
< It’s up to you. Whatever you wanna do, I will be fine with it.
> Perfect 🙂
> 7:30 or 8? We should totally skip half an hour.
> So boring
< That emoji makes me feel like I did something wrong and you are being kind.
< Both are fine by me.
> See you at 8 then 😁
> Since you hate the other emoji
< Oh this one is much better.
< See you at 8. Leave your overthinking hat at home.
You quickly send him your address.
> Thank you
*
The evening comes even quicker than you expected. He picks you up alone and you have a great conversation on your way to the event. He gives you some pointers about it and the people you will most likely have to talk to and warns you that it’s gonna be boring. And he is right. It is even more boring than the first one. A lot of speeches and conversations with people you don’t know. You try to stay composed and play your part, trying to hide the fact that you are bored as fuck. Bucky comes to your rescue with a fun game. He makes funny comments and on-point jokes before and/or after you talk to someone. His observation skills are extraordinary. He notices stuff that you wouldn’t normally remark. Like a missing wedding ring, so he knows not the mention their spouse during their conversation. He whispers into your ear and makes you laugh the whole night. Hearing his voice that close, and feeling his breath on your neck drives you crazy. Does he know the effect he has on you? Is he doing it on purpose or is he just trying to pass the time as pleasantly as possible? You don’t know. Just like the first event, you leave a little bit early. He drives you back home, offers you a warm smile, and mentions when the next event will take place. You just nod in agreement, already looking forward to it.
*
> Friends or The Office?
> Also hi
< The Office. Love how intentionally awkward it is.
< Hiii back.
> How are you?
> Let me guess who you like the most
> Is he tall?
< Yeah genius, it’s Jim.
< I’m good, how are you?
> I knew you have taste.
> I am good. Now even better.
< Why better?
< Also who else could I like? He’s the only sane person in that office.
> Because I talk to you.
> So true.
He’s feeling better because he’s talking to you. God, that makes your blood rush.
< I like talking to you, too.
< Okay I have a question. What do you think of Karen?
> Karen? Don't make me be a hater while texting.
> It would never end.
> You?
< You know the word hater? I’m impressed.
< I don’t like her either. She tried too hard to make things work.
> I am 34, not 304!
> I feel offended
< It’s so easy to tease you.
> She is boring and annoying. More annoying than that douchebag.
< You mean Roy?
> Yeah
> That punching scene though
< God, that guy is a walking red flag. 
< Pam was truly blind.
> She was. Sad...
< Favorite season?
> Hard.
> Very hard.
> Maybe 4.
> Yours?
< Either 4 or 6.
> Tastee
< You are starting to sound like me 
> Well, I am older, so it's the other way around
< Sure old man. Whatever you say 
> Old but handsome, to quote you
< I can’t be held responsible for the things I say when I’m tipsy.
> Excusess
< Shh you are exposing me too much
As time passes, your conversations become friendlier. You don’t feel like this is something you have to do just to keep your business going. It feels like you two enjoy each other’s company. It feels like flirting. Yet you are not sure if that’s how he feels about all this, too. 
> Hi. Are you home?
< Yeah?
> in a few minutes you might have a delivery
< A delivery? 
< Bucky what did you buy this time?
> I can sense a tone
< Can you?
> A bratty tone.
> You'll see when it comes.
Just a few minutes later you open the door and see a huge bouquet of flowers.
< Jesus Bucky!
< These are so pretty!
< Thank youu.
> No complaining, huh?
> Glad you like them.
> I can complain if that’s what you want.
> I want you to be good and put them in a vase.
< They are already in a vase, sir.
You send a photo of the flowers in your prettiest vase.
> Great.
< I can’t stop smelling them.
> Noted
< I’ve got something to show you. Well two things because I can’t decide.
> Waiting
You send two mirror selfies in two different dresses. The first one is a black dress with a high slit on the right side. The other one is a simple pastel pink dress but the cleavage is on display a little.
< Which one should I wear for the next event?
> You think I am the right person to choose?
< I am your date, aren’t I?
> They both look great.
> Depends on what you want.
< That’s what I think too!
< And that’s why I can’t decide.
< Please help me out.
> Pink?
< Pink it is.
< Thank you.
*
What you didn't expect from this arrangement is how your attachment grows more and more every time you see Bucky. He makes it hard not to miss him with his smile and his jokes, the way he tries to integrate you and always asks how you feel. Truth be told, you're not even professional anymore and you catch yourself wanting to make a move on him every time he compliments you. But you can't, so you're forced to wait for him to do it. And you really hope he will.
*
You probably put too much faith in a rich person because when you see your notification from the banking app, you have to refrain from making a scene. You check twice just to be sure. For some reason, you are paid double the amount for this date and it’s not because he missed any previous payments. No, he just decided to pay you more the moment you started to grow closer.
When you look at him, he immediately catches something's wrong and leans in to whisper. 
"What happened?"
“I don’t wanna talk about it right now.” Because you know if you do, your whole act will be exposed.
Bucky nods and looks at the rest of the table. "We're gonna head back home now. It was really nice to see you."
His reaction surprises you. You have the whole night ahead of us and he already paid you double. Why does he want to leave already?
"Of course. Have a good evening!"
“Oh, are you really leaving this early?” Someone else asks.
"Yes. We have plans for tomorrow pretty early in the morning."
“Ah! Too bad. Still, it was nice seeing you two.”
You both nod before you make your way to the door. You absently watch him asking for both of your coats and holding the door for you.
The way he’s acting like everything is fine infuriates you more. You really hoped something was going to happen between you two. It felt like you were headed in that direction, but you are not so sure anymore. Maybe he never saw it that way. Maybe he was thinking the worst of you and he’s just paying you more for everything he considers extra. It makes you feel nauseous.
"I should have made them change the plate…  Do you have an allergic reaction?"
“Yeah, I am having an allergy reaction.” You lash out as soon as you feel safe to react. “An allergic reaction to you trying to buy everything.”
"What?" He looks at you so confused as if he didn't double paid you a moment ago.
“Tell me it’s just a mistake and you didn’t do it on purpose.”
"Do what? Pay you?"
Oh… He did it on purpose. And just like that the last hope you were hanging on vanishes. 
“Yeah, pay me double just as we were getting closer. Is that all I am to you?” 
"All you are to me?" He repeats shocked.
“Someone you can pay for whatever you want.” You don’t wait for an answer. You just keep going. “Of course, that’s all I am. What else can I be? It’s my fault for accepting this… deal. I put myself in this position. Why would you see me as someone other than a hooker.”
"Stop!" He screams back but not as loudly as you do. "What are you saying? What the actual fuck? When did I even imply that? Paying you double has nothing to do with disrespecting you! Contrary!"
“You don’t have to say it! The moment we started to get closer, you decided to pay me double. I don’t need to be Einstein to put 2 and 2 together.”
He scrunches his nose. "How about us getting closer and me wanting to help you, huh? Did that ever cross your mind? Me wanting to help you pay your debt faster, knowing the effort you make to accompany me to these," he gestures to the place behind you. "But no, of course, you didn't because you think the lowest of me. That I would believe I can buy you and your affection!" 
“Help me?” He must be joking. “When I specifically told you I don’t want help!”
"I just don't want you to struggle. Is it so bad?" His voice is soft now while he stares at you, trying to show you he's entirely honest 
“Have you ever stopped for a second and thought how getting help would make me feel? I’ll tell you. It makes me feel like a failure.”
"You're not a failure. And getting help doesn't make anything you did and do less important, especially since it's small. Please..." he sighs. "Let's continue talking in the car at least, it's freezing. You shouldn't get sick."
“Fine. I will get in, but this… this conversation is not over.” He’s right. It’s freezing and you can’t take it anymore.
He nods gratefully and opens the door for you, which you close with force.
As soon as he gets in the car and starts the engine, he turns on the ac, giving you a look. You keep taking deep breaths and avoid looking at him.
"Please... do you really think that low of me?"
"I don't know what to think anymore." You finally look back at him. "Are you gonna drive or are we gonna have this conversation here?"
"I don't want to drive you home upset. I want to talk about it..."
You stop for a second, consider your options. You can't have this conversation in a public place. "Your place or mine?"
*
Money is clearly not an issue for him so he probably didn't even blink to pay you double you realize as you get inside the house. You try not to look around too curiously. Your image in his eye is already as bad as it could get.
"How low do you think of me?" He repeats the same question while he starts to take off his shoes.
“I should be asking you that question.”
"You're the one who thinks I tried to buy you as a hooker."
“What were you trying to do then if not buying my affection? And don’t tell me helping!”
"To help."
“I don’t want help!” You don’t notice how loud you are. “I don’t want anyone’s help! I have to do this on my own. Is that so hard to understand?”
"Yes and no." He sighs. "I get this drive, I had it too, but I wish you could try to see... that you don't have to do this alone. But instead, you think I see you as someone buyable." 
“Imagine when you started your business and had debt, someone had the means to help you, just give you money like it’s nothing and you don’t get to pay it back. Would you accept it? Would you think it’s your success if someone helped you out like that? Just be honest and answer.”
"Fuck no." He sighs. "But you deserve the money. And you put up with the events and your business..."
“Fuck no indeed. I want to do this myself. I have to prove myself I’m not a failure like my-” You stop yourself from finishing that sentence.
"What? Like what?"
“It doesn’t matter. I just need to prove that to myself, okay?”
"How could you think you are failing when you already did so much?
“As long as this business doesn’t succeed, whatever I’ve done so far does not matter. Only the result matters.” You don’t notice you are repeating your father’s words.
"That is bullshit. You think success is based on wins only?"
“It doesn’t feel like winning when you are worried about paying the next month's salaries.”
"That's a worry that honestly doesn't stop. Or at least not for me. Success means failure and worries sometimes. Success means trying and holding on."
“I’m not here to have a conversation about what you view as success, Bucky. I’m here because I’m mad at you.”
"You're mad at me, but you think I am an awful person." He starts taking off his jacket.
“I’m mad at you because you can’t pay me double just because you want to. That’s not how real life works.” 
"Oh, really?" He smiles sarcastically. "I should totally give zero shits about you worrying about paying salaries and having student debt. Totally real-life fun stuff."
“Student debt? How do you even know about that?”
"You mentioned it."
“I don’t remember mentioning my student debt to you.”
He puffs, not breaking eye contact. "I have ears."
“You heard me mentioning my student debt and decided to pay me double?” He’s unbelievable.
"Yes."
“Do you have any idea how much you were paying me before?”
Bucky blushes embarrassed and strokes his beard. "No..."
“You were already paying me nearly a monthly salary. Just for going on a date with you once a week. Do you have any idea how it made me feel seeing that double payment in my account while I was hoping for…”
"Fuck, I want to say I am sorry, but I am not. I am not buying you, no matter how low you think of me. I want to help you. I thought we are already friends."
“Friends.” You give him a bitter smile. “Friends don’t pay each other.”
"Friends help each other." He is getting closer to you.
“Not without the other one asking for help.”
"You're impossible." He sighs. "You can pay me back at some point." He is so serious.
“Which point will that be?”
"Whenever you won't be worried about salaries."
“You said it yourself, that time never comes.”
"Please, doll." He closes his eyes, not even realizing what he said.
“Please what?”
"Can we just stop fighting?"
“We can if you stop paying me.”
"It's your money. You come with me every time. This event was more boring than usual... consider this a bonus for putting up with it and me." 
“I don’t want- I don’t need that.”
"Why not? It's just for now." He seems upset. "Do you want nothing to do with me anymore?"
“I don’t need money to… enjoy my evening with you. I was actually hoping for you to… you know… stop paying me soon.”
"You want to end this?" He doesn't even try to hide his disappointment. His voice starts trembling.
“I want to end the payments.”
"So no more events..."
“I didn’t say that. I said I don’t want you to pay me for that anymore.”
"Oh." Bucky thinks a little. "You want to come to meet more people?" 
“Dear god… You are so dense for a smart businessman sometimes!”
"You are calling me dumb."
“Yeah, because you are being dumb or just acting dumb, I don’t know anymore. You can call me if you want me to accompany you as your friend… or date, okay? It’s up to you now.” You reach for your stuff to leave his place.
"I just want to know why you'd find it so bad for me to pay you. Would you not pay me?"
“Don’t you really see the implication?”
"What implication? Tell me what you think."
“Would you pay me if we had sex?”
He freezes, completely taken aback. "What?"
“You heard what I said. Would you love me like you paid me, too?”
"You want to fuck me?" He asks unsure. As if he doesn’t know if he heard you right.
“Do you need things spelled out for you like this?”
"Do you mean it?"
“I have already said too much, Bucky. I think it’s better if I go.”
He grabs your hand when you turn toward the door. "I don't think you said enough."
“You want me to embarrass myself more?” He rolls his eyes. “I think I have made myself clear enough. Time for me to leave.”
"Come on." He smiles. "You didn't say anything."
You let a frustrated breath out. “Take care, Bucky.”
"Doll, please. You can't leave in the middle of a conversation like this!"
“Of course, I can leave. What else is there to talk about?”
"You asked if I'd pay you for sex."
“And I think I got my answer.”
"No, I would not pay you for sex."
“Because you didn’t even consider that option.”
He puffs, and you notice sweat drops on his neck. "Why did you even ask that? I already said I do not consider you buyable." 
He is very close now, holding both of your hands and staring into your soul.
“Because that’s how I feel every time you pay me to spend time with you.”
"God, doll. You are really fucking impossible. You think I don't want to kiss you or fuck you? I think about it all the goddamn time if I let myself, but we had an arrangement..."
“And that’s why I wanna end the arrangement.”
"Done." His answer is instant.
“So you can take me out on a normal date, maybe.”
"Yeah?" He wraps his arms around your waist, making you drop both: your coat and bag. But you don’t look down even when they hit the floor. 
“If you want…” You feel your voice suddenly getting smaller.
"May I kiss you?"
“Only if you aren’t gonna ask permission for everything.”
He snorts. "Just answer." 
“You may.”
He does, moving a hand to your chin as he immediately tries to deepen the kiss. The way he kisses you takes you by surprise. You didn’t expect him to start this kiss so strongly, but you definitely aren’t complaining. His other hand goes from your waist to your ass, grabbing it over your pants. You gasp in surprise, which interrupts the kiss.
He smiles. "Hi."
“Hi.” You try to catch your breath while he starts to kiss down your neck without warning. Your right hand trails up from his neck to his hair as you let out a low moan.
"Fuck." He starts sucking on a spot below your collarbone.
“Jesus, Bucky…” You try to sound as normal as possible. “Take a girl out to dinner first.”
"You want dinner?"
“Well, not right now.” 
"What do you want right now?" 
“Just keep doing what you were doing.”
He kisses you so sloppily, his hands going under your shirt without realizing. You wrap your hands around his neck and close the remaining distance between your bodies.
"Fuck, you taste so good."
“Maybe it’s the lipstick.” You joke and without letting him answer, you start to kiss him again, immediately using your tongue. He moans in the middle of the kiss and then opens his mouth a little further, inviting you in. Your hands go to the buttons of his shirt.
"Oh, fuck."
“Can I take this off?” You ask for permission the way he did before.
"Please." He is breathing slowly, looking at your hands
You take your time unbuttoning the shirt, testing his patience.
"Doll, please." His mouth finds your neck.
“Please what?”
"Faster."
“That part comes later,” You say with a suggestive tone and he snorts, leaving another kiss on your neck.
"Left you a few pretty marks." 
“Maybe I should give you some too.”
"Later." When you finally finish unbuttoning, he takes it off in a heartbeat. "Hope you won't hate me."
“For what?” He simply rips your shirt in half in response. “Bucky!” His hands grab your bra while you are still talking. “That was an expensive top!” 
"Was." He just rips off the bra, too. "Just like this was on you. Past tense.”
"Do not!" You lift your finger. "Rip off anything else!"
He bites that finger without hesitation, sucking in it further. You try to take your finger back. 
“Jesus Bucky, how am I gonna go back home now?”
"What? You want to go home?"
“I have to go home eventually, you know.”
"I have clothes, you know?" He starts to take off your belt. "Pants too." You can see he wants to get rid of them too.
“You want me to leave your house in your clothes?”
He kisses her. "What?"
You take a deep, annoyed breath. “Fine, I will worry about this later.”
"May I rip these too?"
“No. No more ripping, please.”
"Alright," he says disappointed but lets you take off your pants while he’s simply staring at your breasts.
“At least I have this to wear while going back home,” you say, swinging your underwear.
"You talk so much about leaving."
“Hmm, do I?”
"Yeah." He's obviously trying not to show he's upset, but he's failing. And this makes you happy… the fact he doesn’t want you to leave.
“Does it bother you?”
"No," he whispers and looks at his own pants. "I can just make you feel good, you know? No rush, then I'll drive you home as you want."
You reach for his pants and start to unbuckle it. “I have a mind that… keeps on worrying. I think about stuff I have to do later constantly, but there’s a way to turn it off. At least for a while.”
He tries to stop you. "I can make you feel good, drive you home and take you on a date tomorrow." 
You finally understand what he actually means. “What? No. That’s not what I want.”
"Okay. Just wanted to make sure you understand we can stop like any time."
“Oh, I know. I just don’t want to.”
"Okay." He smiles and lets his hands fall down.
“I feel like you are tiptoeing around me. Where’s that Bucky I see at these boring events every week?”
"He's here, just trying to do everything right. But I don't know what you mean by that Bucky."
"I mean that Bucky who doesn't hesitate."
"This is different though. I don't want you to think I am a douche, you know?" He sighs. "I don't want you uncomfortable."
"Your hesitation gives me anxiety. And I know you by now. You don't need to worry about that." You push his pants down and they pool around his ankles. Impatiently, he takes off his boxers himself and steps out of them.
"Alright then. Should we move to the bedroom?"
But you are too busy to finally look at him, all naked, to hear him. He looks better than you anticipated and that makes you even more eager to touch him.
He tries not to smile, but it's hard.
“Uhm… what?”
"Nothing, nothing. Keep going."
“Okay.” You move closer and start kissing him again. You grab him gently yet firmly and start moving your hand slowly, just to get him used to the feeling.
"Fuck." He moans against your lips. "Feels good."
You gently bite his lower lip while you keep moving your hand. It’s still slow, but you pay attention to grab his balls and brush against the tip, just to see his reactions
"Doll..."
“Hmm?” You stop kissing him and look into his eyes as you decide to kneel down.
"Doll, no." He groans. "Fuck, I really dreamed about this, but let's go to bed."
“If you dreamed about it, why are you saying no?”
"Because we can do something else fun for you too."
“Oh, believe me, this is fun.” You take your tongue out, swiping it on the shaft from the bottom to the top, making him moan immediately. “Do you want me to stop?” You ask, your lower lip touching the tip. He doesn't even seem to hear you.
“Hmm…” And that’s your answer. You take the tip into your mouth, gently licking. "Oh, shit," He moans and without thinking he wraps his hand around your ponytail.
Your tongue swirls around the tip, occasionally swiping on that sensitive spot that makes him moan really loudly. "Holy fuck." He's fully playing with your hair now. "Baby, please..." He doesn't seem to know what he's begginh for though.
“Hmm?” You silently ask while your tongue keeps working on him.
"We should... stop."
You take your mouth off him for a second, just enough to ask: “Why?” Then you take him right back inside your mouth.
"I'm gonna come," he says a little embarrassed.
He might have wanted you to stop because of that, but you have no intention of doing it. You want him to feel good, so you grab the shaft, moving it up and down while you take your mouth off for a few more seconds.
“Then come.” 
Your tongue goes back to the tip, moving in sync with your hand. He can't even ask you if he should pull out because he's already coming in your mouth. You keep moving your head and hand until he finally hisses because of overstimulation.
"Doll."
You look at him while swallowing. “Yeah?”
"Thank you so much, I'm just... fuck me," he groans at the sight in front of him. There is something absolutely sinful about you like this. "I am just really sensitive."
“That’s normal.” You kiss his cock really gently on a spot that wouldn’t cause any discomfort. He lets go of your hair and smiles. You quickly wipe away that line of come dripping down to your chin before he helps you stand up and kisses you hard. You are already unbelievably wet, but the way he uses his tongue takes it to another level. He lifts you in his arms when you least expect and a yelp leaves your lips.
"Gonna take you to the bedroom."
“Yeah, okay.” You wrap your legs around his torso, trying to hide your excitement.
"I'm gonna eat you, okay?" He opens the door with his leg.
The way he says it sends shivers down your spine. You can feel the throbbing between your legs.
"You want to ride my face, pretty doll? Or do you want me on my knees?"
“God…” You think for a second, both options being tempting. “On your knees.”
"You want me on my knees? Want me to beg to eat your pussy?"
“Would you?”
"Beg for it?" He puffs. "For you? Of course."
“Jesus fucking Christ…”
"Just Bucky." He puts you down on the bed and kneels. You laugh a little. His nervousness is definitely fading away. He smiles and starts kissing below your knee. "Please, can I eat you, baby?"
“Oh god… I wanna hear that again.”
"I am begging. Please, allow me." He kisses all the way up.
“It’s all yours.”
He makes the most animalistic sound you've heard from his mouth before and lifts both of your legs over his shoulders.
"Gonna let me do it over and over again?"
“I might wanna do different things in between, but yes…” That makes him smile.
"Thank you." Then he finally starts licking at your entrance.
The first moan you let out sounds like you are trying to catch your breath. Bucky's fingers dig into your thighs when he properly enters you with his tongue.
“Oh god...” That feels amazing. He says nothing, trying to move his tongue around for a little while testing what you like. You instinctively move your hips a little, forcing his tongue closer to your clit.
"Fuck." You barely hear him say as he properly moves his mouth to your clit.
“Yess!” You shake with excitement. Bucky starts to flick his tongue gently on your clit, bringing his hand to your entrance. You don’t realize how you are moving your hips to create more friction. And he adds the first finger inside you without stopping his tongue motion. 
“Ahh, yes.” It sounds like you have been waiting for this forever. His free hand goes up just to squeeze and massage each breast as he adds his second finger.
“Bucky, fuck!” It feels like he’s everywhere. His flicks turn into full licks while his fingers move faster.
“I’m gonna- I’m gonna- come.” You can already feel your legs shaking. He continues the pace exactly like this and moans against your clit.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuckk. God, please- don’t stop. Please.” He doesn't stop, he couldn't even if he tried, eager to make you come.
After a few seconds, something snaps inside you and finally, you feel loose. Your whole body is shaking and you can’t get enough of the way he makes you feel. The movement of his tongue, the way his fingers move… And it doesn’t end quickly. No, he keeps going and you feel the same high over and over again until it’s too much to bear. You stop him by grabbing a handful of his hair.
“That was… incredible.” He smiles, raising his head enough for you to see how wet he is. “Jesus…” His beard is soaked. You had no idea you were that wet.
"Just Bucky." He repeats the same joke as he licks his lips.
“Your beard… it’s so wet.” You are too shocked to react to his joke.
"Wanna clean it for me?" He winks and god, he looks so charming.
“Come here.” You open your arms.
He hugs you immediately, his beard making contact directly with your breasts as he’s spreading your wetness all over them.
"Oops." He giggles. "Guess I have to clean up my mess."
You giggle, too. “You know you don’t need an excuse to suck my nipples, right?”
"What? This is not what I'm doing. I like to clean." 
And just like that, you feel Bucky's tongue all over your tits, making sure to avoid your nipples.
“Hmm… That feels good.” He bites a little the skin on your left breast, and you whine in response.
"Hurting?"
“A little.”
"Sorry, baby." He sucks a little around the bite as an apology.
"It's fine. Come here and gimme a kiss."
"No." He gets stubborn and he finally takes the first nipple into his mouth.
You grab his hair and force him away from your nipple. "You are so stubborn."
"You like pulling my hair."
"I was thinking about pulling it for a long time."
"Why didn't you?"
"Well, I touched it instead of pulling. On our first date." 
"Yes." He smiles giving you a small kiss. "Not enough."
“There’s no way I could pull your hair there, you know.”
"True. I would moan."
"You and me both." You giggle again.
"So you felt okay?"
"Okay?"
He smiles. "More than okay?"
"You have no idea how okay that was."
"Probably not. You get to feel pleasure in ways I never will."
"Poor you. We should totally try to change that."
He snorts. "You want to suck me again? Or do you want to fuck me?"
"I want you to fuck me."
"Yeah?" He kisses your cheeks. "That's easy."
"Yeah?" Your hips move a little, rubbing against his erection. "Then what are you waiting for?"
"Gonna be right back." He tries to get up, but you stop him.
"Condom?"
"Yep. Any preference?" 
"Yeah, none if possible."
Bucky looks at you confused. "What?” He thinks maybe you meant the flavor. “I can find one without it." 
"I meant no condom because I'm on the pill, so it's up to you."
"You sure?" You aren’t sure if he’s excited or surprised.
"Why wouldn't I be? As long as you are clean."
"Want me to bring my blood tests?"
You laugh a little because you know he means it and you couldn’t help but imagine him dutifully showing you the papers. "I will take your word for it, Mr. Barnes."
"Mr Barnes?" He repeats amused as he spreads your legs properly. "Are you gonna call me that when I come inside you, too?"
"Mr. Barnes sounds too formal for that. Gotta find something else for that moment."
He grabs and positions himself at your entrance. "I'm sure you're creative."
You push your hips impatiently. "I will find something fitting."
He enters you without waiting, but he's careful not to hurt you so he stops for a little. You throw your head back because of the way you feel with his cock inside you. A lower, nearly animalistic moan escapes your lips. 
"Oh god."
"Please move."
He kisses you gently as he finally starts to thrust slowly. You are so wet that he's moving so smoothly, dragging your walls every time he pulls back and then filling you up all over again.
"Aren't you a wet little doll?" He shifts his weight on his elbows that he places on both sides of your head.
"I’m so unbelievably wet." 
"Perfect." He buries his head into your neck and starts to move faster.
“I have been… imagining how… this would feel.”
"Did you dream about it?" He doesn’t miss the chance to ask that.
“Once.”
"Only once?" He tries not to sound disappointed, but he fails.
“Yeah, and I was surprised because I don’t dream about sex.”
"How?" He starts sucking harder.
“Ahh.” You moan softly. “During one of those fancy events.”
"Fuck." He lifts his head to look at you. "Did you dream of me fucking you in the closet? Or the baby changing room?"
“In a dark closet. Suddenly you are all over me.”
"Fucking you from behind? Or holding my baby?"
“You were holding me and- ahh. I was trying to- stay quiet. But- you kept fucking me- harder.” His hips move so fast now you can barely speak. 
"Did you scream?"
“I was about to, but I woke up suddenly.”
"Fuck." He groans. "The worst. Did you finish the job?"
“Yeah.” You breathe out. “I was so fucking wet.”
"Just...." He closes his eyes. "I'm imagining you using your little fingers under your panties to play with your clit- Shit."
“And it wasn’t enough.”
"No? Poor baby." He leans in to bite your bottom lip for a few seconds.
“It was frustrating.” You moan when he moves his hips a little harder. “Nowhere near… this.”
"Nothing like my cock? Like us?"
“Nuh-huh.”
"God, can't wait to come inside you... to see you dripping."
“Shit, Bucky. You can’t just say things like that.” It makes you clench hard. You need to come. Now.
"Why not? So fucking hot." His thrusts slow down but become deeper at the same time. "Dripping down your thighs. Gonna clean that up for you and share it." He curses. "Gonna pass you my come in a kiss."
“Oh fuck.” His words, the image just pushes you over that edge. “I’m coming. Oh fuck, please don’t come. Not yet. Please.”
"Why not? Do you want me to pull out?" He teases.
“I need one more.” You say while shaking hard. “Just one more.”
"I'm right here," he whispers assuringly. “I'm inside you, not going anywhere. I dreamed about you too." He pauses to curse. "Fuck, I was fucking my bed."
“Tell me… tell me about it.” The orgasm keeps washing you in waves. Over and over again until it fades away.
"You were in my office at work. Came to talk about a gala or we were leaving from there, I don’t know. And we just... we were suddenly kissing and I was ripping off your dress. And I was simply fucking you all over the desk."
“How did it feel?”
"Not even close to this, but it was good. So good. I almost came in my sleep."
“You didn’t come?” You finally feel like your breath is going back to normal. 
"I stroked myself after I woke up and came. A lot."
“Made a big mess because of me?”
"Mhm." He brings his fingers to your lips. "And you weren't there to help me." 
“I’m here now.”
"Gonna help me this time?" His index finger plays with her bottom lip.
“Oh, I will.” You bite his finger gently. “And no mess this time. I’m here to take every drop of your come.”
"You sure you can?" He teases. "What if it's too much?"
“It’s all mine. I don’t care if it’s too much.”
"I'm all yours."
“Oh, Bucky.” You feel like you are melting. You kiss him on the lips passionately. “I’m all yours, too.”
"Yeah?" He smiles and starts thrusting faster. "Aren't you a pretty little doll? All mine, ready to take my come."
“Yours.” You repeat and that familiar pleasure starts to build up again, but you want to try something else. Something you have been imagining. “Can you… flip me over?”
"Sure," he answers a little surprised, and helps you move.
“I have been imagining how this would feel.”
"Thought you did it only once." 
“You know dreaming and imagining are different things, right?” You tease him. You can’t see his expression, but you know he made a face right after hearing your words.
"How many times did you imagine it?'
“Oh, who knows? A lot of times.”
"Tell me what did you imagine when we were like this." He squeezes your hips, so turned on to see your on all fours.
“You fucking me hard.”
"How hard?" He teases leaning in to kiss your back.
“As hard as you can.”
As soon as he starts to properly thrust inside you, a few gasps and whimpers leave his mouth. The positions opens you up in a different way. 
"God, this is... fuck me."
“Yeah, I would say- the same.” It’s hard to speak when he is pounding you like this.
"You're making such a mess on the bed, baby. Around my cock. God, so fucking wet."
“Should I apologize for the mess?” You ask cheekily because he seems so gone.
"You should." He squeezes your ass. "By making a bigger mess."
“I think- that’s- possible.”
"Yeah?" He fucks you even harder, properly using his knees and your hips. "You gonna come?" 
“Yeah! Please!”
"Please what?" 
“Please, daddy.” The words leave your lips before your mind can register them.
"Holy fuck, what did you just say?" He barely manages to keep going, just slowing down. He looks at you as if he doesn't know if he imagined something, and that's how you  realize what you said.
“Shit! I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” You start to panic.
"Hey, baby." His voice is soft, assuring. "What are you sorry for?"
“I didn’t mean to say it out loud. I was just… thinking that.”
"God, baby." He tries to turn your head to look into your eyes by grabbing your chin and titling it up. "You think of me as your daddy?"
“Is it bad if I do?”
"Yeah, it's bad because I can come any second when you call me that." He kisses your forehead. "Be a good girl for daddy and try to come, okay?"
“God, Bucky.” You moan because of his words. You’ve imagine this, indeed, a lot of times, but hearing it? It’s something that can’t be described.
He pulls your hair. "Daddy."
“Oh, fuck.” It turns you on even more and you don’t know how that’s even possible. “Yes, daddy.”
"Did you imagine this, too?" He is leaving you breathless with the way he is pounding you, yet he still demands an answer. "Did you imagine calling me daddy while I fuck you like this?" 
“Yes.” You are so close to coming. So close that you can taste it. “I did- so many times.”
One of his hands finds your right breast and sqeezes. "Please, come for daddy. Gonna be a good girl and come?"
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuuckk, I’m coming!” The way your orgasm hits you makes you lose the last drop of control you had over your body. You can’t think of anything beside Bucky and how good he’s making you feel. His pace quickens for a second before he comes. He doesn't manage to warn you he's coming too, but he doesn't have to. His moan and the feeling of his come are enough.
He keeps it going until both of you finish and when you do, the only thing that you can hear is your loud breaths. Then you feel a trail of kisses all over your back.
“Oh my god,” you finally manage to speak.
"Just Bucky." He reaches your neck. "Or daddy."
You laugh. “God, you are so smug.”
"Smug?" He smiles and pokes your skin with his tongue. 
You turn around, finally fully facing him. “Yeah, daddy is real smug.” It feels so good to be able to call him that without worrying about anything else.
"Thank you."
“Who knew Bucky Barnes had a daddy kink?” You can’t help but say. 
"Not Bucky Barnes himself." He snorts.
“You just found out?”
"Yeah." He burst into laughter a bit embarrassed. He’s never thought about being called daddy before, especially not in bed, but with you? With you, it just makes sense. It feels hot.
“Oh god, I am so lucky.”
"Did you always have a daddy kink?"
“I didn’t even know I had one before meeting you.”
Bucky's smile is so big. "Fuck, I am the lucky one." He kisses you properly now, immediately trying to open your mouth by licking your bottom lip. 
“I thought I would freak you out, but look at you, fully embracing it.” 
"How could I not?"
“You liked it that much, daddy?” You wrap your arms around his neck playfully.
"God, I did. You're so hot when you say it. And the way you looked at me."
“How did I look at you?”
"Can't even explain it... I just wanna see that over and over again.”
“Well, you can.”
He scrunches his nose in the most adorable way possible. "Thank you."
“For what?”
"For everything. And for wanting me."
You frown because of that last part. “What does that even mean?” 
"Boring older man."
“Handsome older man, who I have been fantasizing about for a while.”
He giggles shily. "You make me sound like a dirty dream."
“Well, it’s because you are.”
"You are mine too."
“Lucky us.”
"You might never get rid off me." He kisses your forehead.
“I might be okay with that.”
*
It has been a while since you started to date Bucky. After that night, everything slowly started to fall into place. You found a great balance between your lives and your relationship, always making time for each other. You spend a lot of nights at his place. It doesn’t feel like his anymore, it feels like you are living together. Everything is so natural. 
“I just got the most unexpected call ever,” you say, still feeling fairly surprised by the job you got offered.
"What was it about?" Bucky is still in bed, surprisingly. He's usually the first the get up and go to the kitchen in the morning.
“Mrs. Moore called me to ask me if my bakery could do the catering for their next event.”
"Oh my god. That’s amazing."
“It is! But I am not sure if I can actually do it.”
Bucky frowns and immediately taps on the bed. "Come here."
You listen to him and continue talking while moving closer. “I haven’t given her the final answer yet, I acted like I need to check in to see if we are available, but the more I think about it, the more I notice how hard it would be.”
"I am gonna say something, but I don't think you'll like it."
“You will say you can help me out.”
"Yep." He gives you the biggest smile. "But it doesn't take away anything from your success or your efforts, okay? Just hear me out."
You take a deep breath. “Okay. I’m listening.” You have been warming up to the idea of him helping you. Maybe not financially, but he has been helping you. He has the best ideas and a great perspective. So you won’t say no to hearing him out.
He reaches to hold your hand. 
"Let me take care of the transport and hire the extra stuff who can serve at the party. I'll call a friend." He pauses. "Just this once, okay? You can curse me out later, bit let me help so you can get more jobs in the future. This is a great opportunity."
“How did you even know I needed help with transport?”
"Baby," Bucky giggles at your confused pouty face. "It's a first experience. You don't have employees for this and it's a big party." Then he shurgs, like it wasn’t that hard to guess.
“Transport, service staff, and extra place to store the food. These are the problems I need to solve if I wanna do this.” You list the things you need to be able to take this job.
"Is that a yes?"
“That’s an I am considering it.”
In response, he simply raises on his knees and kisses you, with his hands on your neck. "Good girl."
“I didn’t say yes yet!”
"Ihm."
“If you assume I will say yes, it’s definitely gonna be a no.”
"No, I am very, very, very fucking horny right now."
“Just because I might say yes to your offer for help?”
Bucky blushes. "It's very hot. And I'm so hard..."
“Jesus… You really want a sugar baby, don’t you?” He must have. He loves the idea of taking care of your every need. That would explain why.
"I just like doing this for you."
“Do you like being useful or do you like spoiling?” You insist. You want him to say it.
He makes a sound from the back of his throat. "Can we just focus on you?"
“No, please… Tell me why exactly this turns you on.”
"I don't know." You see the sides of his neck getting red.
“But I wanna know.”
"Please, just..."
“Gimme an answer and I will give you one back.”
He takes a deep breath but doesn't look at you. "I just love spoiling you even though you don't let me."
You smile. “I might let you a little bit.”
"Just..." He sighs embarrassed. "Just ignore me, okay?"
“This is me… saying yes.” You spell it out for him.
"For my help?" He finally looks at you.
“Yeah.”
"Wow.” He sounds completely surprised. “This is... great." He tries to keep his emotions under control. "Then go ahead and uhm, call Moore back as I send a few messages, okay?"
“She can wait a little bit longer.” You gently grab his erection. He has gotten really excited just because you let him help you. It’s just unbelievable yet you love it. You love that he cares about you this much. “I need to take care of daddy first.”
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luveline · 7 months
Note
I LOVE YOUR WRITING IT'S SO ASDFJKFTICDHBDIGDGXSJOHCBCFG
so I wanted to request Sirius x reader where the reader is on veritaserum and has a banter/ tongue in cheek sorta relationship with Sirius. And then when she's on the truth serum she has to hold back witty comebacks because when she opens her mouth all she keeps saying is how disgustingly cute Sirius looks when he smiles, and how she just wants to snog his face off PLEASE IF YOU CAN 👉👈 🥺
REMINDER: YOU'RE AMAZING AND I'M HAPPY AND PROUD OF YOUR SERVICE TO THE FANFIC COMMUNITY
thank you ♡ —you can't hide the truth from sirius, and he doesn't want to try. 1.3k
cw spiked drink
"Why would someone put veritaserum in the pimms?" you ask James meekly. 
"Shortcake, I'm really not sure. Don't get upset about it, alright? Remus is going to tear them all a new one." He squeezes you by the shoulders. "Don't worry, Jamie's here." 
"You're very handsome, but I don't fancy you. Much." 
James smiles. "Good to know, lovely. I don't fancy you much either. I'll assume you're saving yourself for our mutual dark-haired friend and I shan't be offended." 
You slap a hand over your mouth and shake your head, but the truth comes out muffled into your palm anyways. "I really like him," you say, eyes wide with terror, "I don't want anyone else. Oh, James! You're such a dick!" 
"Do you mean that, or are you just angry with me?" James asks, helping you out into the garden away from the party and your peers, who can't be trusted to leave you alone when you're set to tell them any secret they want. 
"Both!" 
"What's wrong?" Sirius asks. 
Your neck almost snaps as you look up. James swears, trying to save it as your body instinctively answers. "Someone's spiked our girl," James says extremely loudly to mask your more honest confession, "I'm worried I'm going to tell you I like you," you say. 
Sirius, sitting on a low garden wall with a packet of cigarettes in his hand, is puzzled. "What?" 
"Someone's put veritaserum in her drink. Maybe in the pitcher. I've brought her outside so she doesn't accidentally tell everyone she's in love with me."
Sirius grins. "Don't be daft, Prongs, she's clearly team Black. Aren't you, sweetheart?" 
"You're the prettiest of your trio," you say, sincerity like a blade at the back of your throat, aching, "I'm definitely on your team." 
James squeezes your shoulder and helps you into a garden chair, the metal cool against your back. "I'll forgive you because I know you can't help it, and because I know you're dying of embarrassment," he murmurs. 
"Thank you. I love you." 
"I love you too, shortcake," James says easily, kicking out a chair for Sirius and flopping into his beside you. "Aren't feeling ill, are you?" 
"Just terrified I'll say something too honest," you say, holding your breath between words. 
Sirius sits in the chair that's been kicked out for him with a cigarette held between his lips, unlit. He lift a his hips to pull a lighter from his back pocket and you flush with heat at the motion, wondering if you're a pervert for looking, for thinking, but lately your flirty banter has your heart doing front flips, and every time you see him you're zoning in on his hands, his arms, the slip of skin at his navel when he stretches, the low sound he makes when something pops. 
"Stop ogling me," he says without looking from his cigarette, the end glowing orange in the flame of his clipper. 
"I don't mean to," you say. 
James shifts uncomfortably. Everyone knows you like Sirius, maybe even Sirius, but he hasn't said a thing about it and you've stopped yourself (so far) from telling him. Any truth has been said under the guise of a joke. 
Sirius takes a short drag and holds the cigarette out and away from you, smoke curling in the cold autumnal night. "Shall I go help defend your honour? I assume that's where Remus is. Being spiked isn't funny." 
"I'd like it if you stayed here," you say. 
James laughs. Sirius leans forward a touch. "Then I'll stay here. Do you need something to drink?"
"My mouth is really dry," you say. 
Sirius sends a saccharine smile James' way. It's the look of an older brother used to getting his way, to which James sighs and grumbles, standing from his chair, "Don't ask her anything cruel," he says severely, kissing the top of your head quickly. "I'm serious." 
"I won't. I quite like her, in case you forgot. I've no interest in torturing her." 
You believe him. James departs with a pat, leaving you and Sirius alone at the garden table, still but for the little motion he does every now and then to fleck ash onto the floor. 
"You sure you're okay?" Sirius asks.
"I feel fine. Warm, but that's probably because you're smiling at me." 
He raises his eyebrows. "Maybe we should talk about something else. I really don't want to ask you anything too personal while you can't keep a secret. James gave me veritaserum once, when we were kids." 
"He did?" you ask. 
"Too much of it. I was sick, and I couldn't stop telling him how much I wished we were real brothers. Which he knows now, but at the time it was, you know, very sincere." 
"You and James are real brothers," you say. 
"I'm glad you can say that. It must be true," he says. "I'm lucky, even if he has tried to poison me." 
"James is lucky too. We all are." 
"Yeah?" he asks. He's about to continue, but your mouth does the choosing for you, and you cut him off. 
"I love knowing you, Sirius, I feel lucky to be your friend, and I–" You bite your tongue hard enough for tears to catch in your eyes immediately. 
Sirius' blasé fades, falls away slowly, like a moving cloud unveiling a slice of light, "Don't hurt yourself," he says, alarmed at your wincing. He drops his cigarette and smashes it with his heel, shuffling his chair closer to yours. 
"I just don't want to tell you something," you say, shaking your head. 
Sirius touches your hand. "Okay, I won't ask you any more questions. I'm sorry. Everyone's allowed their secrets, lovely, I didn't mean to make you answer me. I thought it would be easier to skirt around the issue." 
But it's a big feeling, and it's in everything you do. You really, really like him. If you can't be honest about that, maybe you can be honest about something else..
There's no shame in finding a handsome man handsome. And maybe you can convince him that that's all it is. "I just want to kiss you stupid, Black," you say, "like, kiss you until I can't feel my mouth anymore. You look like you know how to really kiss someone." 
Sirius laughs suddenly, startled. "I want to kiss you stupid, doll. You're a fucking dime piece," he says through laughter, "and that's the truth."
"You look really nice when you laugh," you further, wondering if this is the wrong thing to do. 
"You look beautiful when you laugh," he says. 
"Joking with you about stuff is the best part of my week." 
"It's the best part of mine. I wish we saw each other more often," he says. 
"Did you drink the pimms, too?" you ask. 
"No. I'm stone cold sober, sweetheart." Sirius looks behind you and you follow his gaze to the patio doors, where James and Remus are arguing good-naturedly, a tall pint glass filled literally to the rim with water in James' hand.
"Has he left you alone?" Remus asks, quick down the short step to defend you. "I love you, Sirius, but I don't trust you to not ask her embarrassing questions." 
"I'm starting to get offended. No, she hasn't told me anything embarrassing. Only that she wants to snog my lips off, but I knew that already." Sirius smiles at you dopily while his friends seize up. "And that's hardly embarrassing, because I want to do it to her first." 
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diejager · 2 months
Note
Sweetie i know it's been a long time but i really need more Brahms! König🥵🥵🥵!!!!
I KNOW! I STILL REMEMBER THE DAY MY FRIEND ASKED ME TO WRITE THE FIRST BRAHMS!KÖNIG. And I still remember how musky and broad Brahms looked like in the movie….
Brahms!König pt.3 Cw: DARKFIC, kidnapping, imprisonment, possessiveness, tell me if I missed any.
You could hear their voices, the confused and worried tones of your coworkers through the thick, sound-insulating walls of his little cave. He’d taken you to his home, within the walls of the dilapidated mansion, tying you to his bed and leaving you vulnerable to him and anyone who’d stumble into your restrained figure. You writhed on his bed, the sheet-covered mattress smelling musky and thick, it smelled of sweat and blood and earth, something too masculine, fitting of his stature and being. Your gag was stinky and crusted, a salty and tangy taste lingering on your tongue that told you enough of the cloth’s original use. You would’ve retched if you weren’t gagged so tightly.
Your eyes scoured his room, the dark and dingy basement lit up by a single light of his lamp, left on the small workbench beside every kind of artistic materials, glue, saws, scissors, needles, wool and string organised in their own corner of the wall. Despite the bright light, the rest of the room remained shrouded in darkness, shadows dancing across the walls like demons and monsters coming to haunt you in weakness, coming to join your captor in his fun.
You dreaded the moment he comes back, the silence of your cage a striking contrast to the bustling house you were hidden in. You feared what he’d do to you now that he had you, knowing that he was grinding up against you and rutting your thigh, panting loudly and grabbing at you like a man starved for attention —perhaps he was one. All your training and instincts failed you, stripped from any weapons and your gear, boots unlaced and toes curling in your socks, you’d been left in your undershirt and pants.
In your whimpering and fright, you almost missed the loud, telltale steps of your giant protector, walking down the narrow path to his room. Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. You glanced at him, and caught him staring back at you, your sweat-coated skin and flushed skin, naked to his cool eyes. He smiled through them, roving over your panicked expression, pinched brows and tense shoulders, down the slope of your abdomen and the curve of your hips before he moved, stepping closer and closer to you with a bright and needy gleam.
The bed creaked under his weight, slumping to the side as he sat down, his calloused hands cradling your face and coaxing you to look at him when you glanced away, his thumb rubbing the bags under your eyes. He cooed soft words and praises, as if he was calming down a cornered animal, waiting to hand you treats and praises, little caresses and adoring kisses.
“Look at you, Maus,” he sighed lowly, his auburn hair curled around his porcelain mask, tickling the edge of his ears, “You’ll be good for me, ja? If you behave, I’ll untie you, let you walk around our room.”
If you wanted a chance at freedom, you’d have to play into his hand, eat and drink from his big hand until he trusted you to leave you alone for an undetermined amount of time, hunting and scavenging the area he lived in. Gulping down you fear, you gave him a hesitant nod, eyes closed to accept the life you’d live for a while.
“Gute Maus.”
Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny
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flkwh0re · 1 month
Note
can I request a sugar mommy nat fic? w some phone sex and princess treatment :3
The Office
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SugarMommy! Natasha x Reader
(this is how I imagine sugar mommy Natasha who loves you so much but when she gets stressed she just uses you to your fullest as a stress reliever)
W/c: 1k
A/n: Not phone sex cuz I cannot write that to save my life, but office sex is better!!
Warnings: mommy kink (Nat), strap on usage, breast worship, office sex, pussy slapping.
——————————⧗ᗢ——————————
“But Nat what if your workers catch us.” You protested. “Don’t worry baby, no one will come in my office. Mommy needs you.”
Natasha had requested you make her lunch and bring it to her, and so you did. You would do anything for that woman. It all started when you met her at one of Tony Starks work parties.
A place where rich men and woman all gather to just blow their riches on expensive beverages, gambling, etc. Tony had allowed you to work one of the event in hopes to make a little extra cash.
You were a struggling college student, taking any job you could get; even though you already had one.
That was until you met Natasha Romanoff. A woman who had an abundance amount of cash, so much you could barley fathom someone having. It started as you just fulfilling her needs with sex, but it later turned into a different relationship.
Natasha confessed her love for you, after you had been seeing her for a few months. At first you were insecure with it, and felt like you were just using her for the money. You later felt content with yourself because you genuinely loved her.
Once word had gotten out about your relationship with Nat, things got very hectic very quickly. The media attention was almost too much to bear, but you never went out alone without Natasha.
“As long as we can lock the door.” Natasha chuckled at your worry, “You can lock the door honey.” You straightened up from your spot on Nat’s desk that you were leaning on.
Once you had locked the door your scurried back over to Natasha, sinking down onto her lap. Your lips hastily linked with hers, and her hands ventured your body.
They eventually found the belt loops of your jeans, linking and tugging slightly at the material. Your hands slipped around Natasha’s neck, pulling her impossibly close as the kiss became more and more heated.
Your hips began to grind down onto her skirt clad thighs. “Let’s get this shirt off, shall we?” Natasha asked as she tugged the hem of your shirt, then slipped it over your body.
“Hmm, wearing my favorite lacy bra? Seems like you were ready to beg mommy to fuck you baby. Were you?” You nod, “Yes mommy, I need you so bad.”
She faux pouted by slipping her bottom lip out, humming softly. But she really pitied you, you spent all morning preparing her a delicious meal so of course she had to pay you back.
“Sit on my desk baby.” She said softly, helping you stand up. Her hands slipped around your back and unclasped your bra, her lips momentarily pressed against yours again.
Her cold hands massaged your soft breast lightly, nipples hardening at her cold touch. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, lightly tugging before slipping her tongue past your lips.
She swallowed your moans as they left your lips when she’d twist and tug on your buds. As soon as her lips left yours, they wrapped around your nipples. Her teeth grazing the nubs, making you squirm.
“Mommy please, I need you.” You whined. With your beg, her fingers fumbled with the button of your jeans. She tugged them off you, admiring the panties that matched the bra you previously had on.
She slipped the lace off your body, her hands softly met your thighs as she moved them apart. Her nimble fingers softly grazed over your clit, pressing down slightly to give you a little pressure.
She slipped her ring finger into your aching cunt, shortly after she added a second. Your head was thrown back as she thrust her fingers in and out of you. Curling then to reach the spots you most wanted to be.
You wrapped your legs tightly around her waist, earning a harsh slap to your pussy. One thing about Natasha is she had to have full control, nothing could be there to hold her in place.
As her dominant hand thrust her digits into your pussy, her other hand toyed with your clit. Sending you spiraling, and soon to your orgasm.
She removed her hand from you, licking away and tasting your arousal. “Wait here.” She demanded before walking to the room attached to her office.
She walked back with a strap attached to her hips. Natasha helped you bend over her desk, her strong arms holding you up.
She ran the tip of the faux dick through your cunt, slipping the end into you. She teased at your hole, then slipped the full length in.
“Fuck detka, taking mommy’s cock so well.” She rasped into the shell of your ear, you could hear the animalistic haste in her voice.
She began to snap her hips back and forth, the length of the dick filling you full. It was almost too much for you to bear, but you took it to satisfy her. That’s all you ever wanted to do, no one had ever loved you like Natasha.
“Mommy I’m gonna cum! Please let me cum, oh fuck!” You screamed as she slammed her hips into yours, and her hands gripped the sides of your lower back. “Cmon detka, cum on mommy’s cock. Let go for me sweetheart.”
Natasha watched as your cum began to gush out with each thrust from her. “Fuck detka, you did so good. Wait here.” Natasha walked off, then returned with a towel and her skirt back on.
She cleaned up your thighs and wiped the sweat off your forehead. “Here, put these on instead of your jeans.” She handed you a pair of sweats, and you kissed her cheek as a thanks.
“Do you have a lot more work Natty?” You asked as you redressed yourself. “Not much, why?” Natasha questioned.
“I was just hoping that before I went back home we could cuddle up for a bit on the couch.” You said, and a smile adorned her face. “I’d love that.”
Masterlist
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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 10 months
Text
Studious IV (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+
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You continue reading Aemond's diary. As his true feelings for you become ever more clear, can you decipher your own feelings for him?
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)
Warnings: Aemond in his smut writer era (semi-public sex, p in v sex, tiddy suckin', riding, fingering, oral sex f receiving, bad sex)
Author's Note: So sorry for the delay! But this baby is 11K words, so hopefully that makes up for it! Also, I tried for a long time to format this like the others, but tumblr wouldn't let me post it if I did, so the formatting is a little different here.
Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here
My Masterlist
Taglist will be done via reblogs (there are simply too many of you to fit here)
Studious IV
You were never setting foot in the library again.
Not after what you just read. Not when you were sure that the mere memory of it would have you bursting into flames the moment you crossed the threshold.
Good gods, only a few entries ago, Aemond could hardly bring himself to write the word ‘cunt,’ and now this? What in the Seven Hells were his advisors – Grand Maester Orwyle, Lord Jasper Wylde, and Prince Aegon – teaching him?
You weren’t sure whether the odd feeling in your stomach was due to how much you ate – an entire meat pie and five tea cakes, all washed down with a pot and a half of raspberry tea – or what you had just read.
Either way, it was not enough to stop you from glancing about your bedchamber to ensure no one was watching you and then rereading the entry from the beginning.
The 16th day in the 5th moon of the year.
I have just returned from the library. Grand Maester Orwyle suggested that I consult a book on anatomy. Since there was no business of court I was required to attend today, I asked one of the librarians to help me retrieve the title after I finished my training.
I also found a few books Aegon recommended, only after I dismissed the librarian – I did not want him to know that I took those. Or that I even knew what they were. Gossip abounds in the capital, and I do not wish to be the subject of more than I already am.
By the titles alone, I am surprised Mother allows them to remain in the Keep. I likely will not read most of them. Aegon has already traumatised me quite thoroughly. I see no reason to allow him to ruin reading for me, as well. Although one title, ‘A Caution for Young Girls,’ seems innocent enough.
But the books are not why I am writing now, when my usual routine is to write immediately before I retire to bed. I just… I need to commit this to paper before it leaves me entirely.
On my way out of the library, I saw her. My wife – if I die tomorrow or in a hundred years, I shall never tire of calling her that.
She has quickly found the more private areas of the library, it seems. I would never have seen her if I had not been considering going there to read myself.
It must mean something that she did not choose just any of the countless hidden places within the maze of the library, but my favourite – a secluded alcove along the western wall. An indicator of our compatibility, perhaps. Or even a sign from the gods?
Had the books I’d been carrying not been so… unsuitable, I would have asked to join her.
No, I wouldn’t have. That would require far more courage than I can summon when I see her.
I just stared at her, watching her face as she read. From where I stood, I could not see what she was reading. But I could see her, and that was enough.
She is so expressive! I saw her both smile and frown in quick succession, and once, her entire face scrunched in displeasure as if she had just taken a bite of lemon! Gods, how can even such an unpleasant expression be so beautiful?
Perhaps I should not have watched her at all, for the longer I stood there, the further my mind drifted. And then, I heard Aegon’s voice, as clearly as if he were standing beside me.
‘Don’t limit yourself to the bedchamber brother, or even the bed! A wall or a table serves just as well. And there is a certain thrill to knowing you could be discovered…’
Damn him. Why did I ever ask for his assistance? I would have been better off enlisting the help of an actual whore! At least then, the vulgarity would not come from the future King. Damn him to the deepest of the Seven Hells.
But that stupid advice echoed in my mind over and over. And against my will and better judgement, an image began to form. A dream – a waking dream.
Though my feet remained planted on the floor, I imagined setting aside my books and joining her in that alcove. She would look up and smile upon hearing my approach, perhaps even giggle at my attempt at stealth.
I would sit beside her and ask what she was reading. I might even ask her to read to me. But I would not let her read for long.
I would kiss her while she read. Not on her lips but all over her perfect face. Her cheeks, her forehead, on the tip of her nose. All just to distract her, to make her laugh. Only when she made so much noise that I feared discovery would I kiss her lips to quiet her and finally claim my prize.
The kiss would not be like in the Sept, or in her chambers that night. Instead, she would kiss me back and open herself to me. I would kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her. Until we were both out of breath but still wanting more.
Seeing her like that, with her lips swollen and cheeks flushed… I would not be able to wait until we returned to our chambers. I would lift her onto that very table, books be damned.
Like our wedding night, we would not undress. We would be in too much of a hurry.
But even hurried, I would be gentle. I would take the time to prepare her, as Lord Wylde said I must do every time. Doing so makes the experience more pleasurable for the woman, he says. And Orwyle added that her enjoyment makes it more likely that the coupling will be fruitful.
Gods, I hardly care about that anymore. Of course, I want an heir, or several. But I want her more. I want her to feel as much pleasure as I do. To ‘peak,’ as Wylde and Orwyle put it. Aegon uses other words, but I find them too vulgar.
And in the library, making an heir would be the last thing on my mind. Even finding my own pleasure would be secondary. I would use my fingers to prepare her – perhaps get her to peak once before I even enter her?
Aegon says women can find release much more than men can. According to him, he once made a woman peak ten times in one night. I would be more amenable to believing him if he didn’t also claim he did so five times. But maybe he is right about ‘practising’ increasing stamina. Though he has had years of practice, and I have had only two days…
But in the dream world where I have the courage to approach her at all, and the gall to bed her in the library of all places (can you call it ‘bedding’ if it is not done in an actual bed?), I also have that stamina. And the skill to indeed make her peak with just my fingers.
I do not know what sounds she would make, as she was entirely silent on our wedding night, but I would want her to make them. I would want her to make such noise that I would have no choice but to kiss her to quiet her and keep her from drawing the attention of the rest of the library.
Even when I was buried within her, I would kiss her. With one arm wrapped around her hips to hold her steady as I fucked her so hard the table would shake, and the other hand tangled in her hair so I could kiss her just as hard.
I want to kiss her so badly. When I finally go to her again, that is what I will do first.
Once we had both finished – for I would ensure she peaked again with me inside her – I would kiss her more, softly, until our breathing steadied. Then, we would simply take our seats again, and this time, I would read to her.
By all the Seven, what has become of me? To not only have such thoughts but to revel in them as I do?
You didn’t bother reading the rest of the entry again before clutching the diary to your chest and staring at the bed canopy above you as a thousand questions burned through your mind and set your heart racing.
Had he been thinking about that the day he came to you in the library?
Was it what he intended to do, had you not reacted so poorly to his words?
Were you really wishing that he had?
You turned on your side, cradling his diary as you once did a small stuffed pony, and noticed for the first time that night had fallen – you had spent nearly the entire day reading. For a moment, you considered running to Aemond’s chambers. But when you looked back at the journal, there were still more than a dozen ribbons shut in its pages.
And if you went to him just after reading what you did…
Whatever was becoming of Aemond, no doubt thanks to the men he had asked for help in better bedding you, by reading his diary and the most private thoughts and fantasies contained within, it was becoming of you too. For when your eyes drifted closed, Aemond’s dream of the library became your dream as well.
-
The next several days of entries were almost identical.
Aemond woke at dawn after a night of dreams filled with you. They were not always of a carnal nature. Sometimes he dreamed simply of holding or kissing you. Once, he dreamed about flying with you atop his dragon. You didn’t know whether the prospect was thrilling or terrifying. Perhaps both.
Each day, he broke his fast, trained, then ate a small meal before joining court.
Before joining you.
When he wrote in the diary after dinner and several hours of studying and ‘practising’ (you still could not determine what that meant), he still remembered every little thing you did. You had never spoken at court – it was not your place to. But he had catalogued your every movement and reaction to the business of the realm. Every raise of your brows, every repressed smile, and every curious tilt of your head.
You thought you were quite proficient at maintaining a regal mask of indifference. Your mother had you practice it on the journey to King’s Landing while she commanded your brothers to shout at you the most outrageous things they could think of (much of which she promptly scolded them for when they were done).
But Aemond saw through the mask. Not only that, but he correctly interpreted every movement you made.
He knew that the twitch of your lip when Lord Bolton made a petition was a sign of your marked distaste for the man. He knew the scrunch of your brow upon the reading of a missive from a Pentosi diplomat was you noticing a contradiction from the previous message and realising the diplomat was lying. And he knew that you stiffened every time he looked at you because you were nervous about what he would say or do.
Aemond knew you. Even then.
And yet you had so dreadfully misunderstood him.
The shame of it was enough to make you set down the diary and call for a bath – a private bath, without any of your maids present even in the adjourning rooms. You gave an excuse that you were exhausted and simply wished to remain alone.
But really?
As part of his study of the anatomy book Orwyle recommended, Aemond had drawn a diagram of what lay between a woman’s legs. And annotated it based on the advice of Lord Wylde and Prince Aegon.
You were curious to see – with the aid of a hand mirror – just how accurate the diagram and annotations were.
-
You awoke the following morning feeling more refreshed than you had since you came to the palace, from both the welcome break in your courtly duties and the exploration you had conducted in the privacy of your bath. Though you were fairly sure you did not reach a ‘peak,’ as Aemond described it, you felt close to the height of something several times. But each time, you panicked at the intensity of the racing feelings within you and withdrew your hand. Still, those few minutes of pleasure were incredibly relaxing.
And as it was Aemond’s notes that allowed you to discover the feeling that your own clumsy attempts had failed to bring, the prospect that you would – eventually – once more join him in his bed became thrilling beyond reason.
In truth, the only thing that stopped you from rushing across the castle the very moment you emerged from the bath was the unfortunate fact that you were still bleeding, though it was light.
More than that, while your body was more than ready to forgive Aemond, your heart and mind were still hesitant. He had hurt you. He made you cry. Reading his diary helped you understand that it had never been intentional. However, you still needed to understand everything before making a final decision on whether to forgive him and if you could, as Aemond hoped in his note, ‘learn to like’ or even to love him.
So, after breaking your fast, you again settled into the couch and turned to the next green ribbon.
The 23rd day in the 5th moon of the year
Were Aegon not my brother and the heir, I would throw him from the top of the Rookery.
‘A Caution for Young Girls’ is no such thing. It is little more than a manual in promiscuity and sin!
But… damn him. It is quite educational.
Unlike the book Grand Maester Orwyle suggested, it is not focused on the science of anatomy or conception. Rather, it is entirely concerned with the pleasure of women. After all, it is the supposedly true story of a woman’s quest for pleasure.
A Wylde woman, if it is to be believed. I may have to ask Lord Jasper about it. Is this why he’s had such success with his own wives?
But that, and indeed the sinful nature of the book itself, is unimportant. What is important is that it may actually be the key to my learning how to pleasure my wife.
It spoke at length of various methods of using one’s fingers. Crooking the fingers while within seems to be crucial, as is locating a ‘sweet spot’ where her walls feel slightly different. That spot, as well as the ‘pearl’ which lays at the top of her sex, is the epicentre of her pleasure.
And, like the others said, preparation is required. This is where the use of the fingers comes into it – as well as various other methods. For example, the book mentions kissing quite often, and not only on the lips. Or the cheeks. Or even anywhere on the face.
I admit the idea, though it is new to me, is quite appealing. The book mentioned several places where women most like to be kissed. The jaw, the throat, behind the ear, the nape of the neck, the collarbone…
There was a spot of ink, as though Aemond’s pen had been resting on the page without moving for a long moment.
…the breasts, and lower.
I do not understand why. Perhaps it is because of Aegon’s incessant comments about the breasts of every woman in the Keep, save our mother and his wife – would that he would also exclude my wife! – but I find myself thinking about her breasts with startling frequency. I did not get to see them on our wedding night after I foolishly forgot to undress her.
There is a story in the book which… well, I find myself wanting to replicate. One which would provide me ample access to her breasts. But more than that, it carries an intimacy which I crave most of all.
When Lady Coryanne was serving as a handmaid to a warlock in Qarth, she often found herself called to help him ‘relax’ after a long day. On such occasions, she would mount him while he sat at his desk and ‘ride’ him while he buried his face in her breasts.
I… it was easy to imagine my wife and me in a similar, though more loving, position. Likely not at my desk, as I don’t actually use it often. But perhaps, here. On my chair by the hearth, where I read my books and write in this diary before bed.
She would come back – for she would be living here, with me, not across the Holdfast and so far away – after a long day. Maybe she would have been in the gardens, or with Mother, Helaena and the children, or in the library for hours. I would have been stuck away from her all day in meetings, court, or training.
Even apart from her for only a day, I would miss her terribly. As I do every hour I do not see her. And she would miss me too.
When she came in, she would press herself against the door as she locked it, then turn to me with a mischievous grin. I would know what she wanted, but I would not play along. Instead, I’d mutter a greeting and turn back to my book, pretending that my blood was not racing at just the sight of her. For I want her blood to be as heated as mine.
You read the last paragraph again, the realisation finally set in that Aemond was about to narrate another of his fantasies. Fortunately, after his previous entry about the library, you decided to be more cautious and had already dismissed your servants until your afternoon meal. You had suspected that there may be more in the diary that was thoroughly unsuitable for prying eyes.
And, thanks to his diligent notetaking, you knew precisely what to do when the feelings such unsuitable words provoked began to burn through you.
You undoubtedly did not want an audience for that…
I would let her tease me, pretending none of it fazed me. When she brushed her fingers lightly across my shoulders, I would not flinch. When she leaned over me further than she would really need to see what I was reading, but wanting me to see that peek of her breasts nearly spilling out from her dress, I would barely look. And when she pressed a kiss, long and slow, to my neck – gods, would I like that too? – I might even pretend it was an inconvenience.
It would vex her that I did not give her the attention she desperately wanted. Not enough to truly anger her, but only enough to make her pout. So that when she took the book from my hands and dropped it to the floor, then sat atop me in the chair with her thighs straddling mine… I would simply have no choice but to grab her little lip as she stuck it out and push it back into place before kissing her.
I would kiss her in every place the book instructs, taking my time to worship every bit of her. I want to drive her as mad as she does me just by her mere existence.
But I know she would not simply let me tease her. She would return each kiss I gave her and more. Atop me, she would roll her hips slowly, purposefully, as if we were engaged in a dance. I would be able to feel her, hot and wet and as eager as me, but each time I rose to meet her, she would pull away.
Gods, am I really wishing for her to deny me? Perhaps practising as Aegon instructed has conditioned me to crave such delays to my satisfaction.
Either way, I think I would break before she did. She is strong-willed, and with as many brothers as she has, I believe she can be quite patient. So, I would beg. I would apologise for trying to tease her and plead for her forgiveness. And for her to…
She would, I hope, without hesitation. She would rise only long enough for her to remove her smallclothes and for me to do away with my trousers. Then, we would both sit again, together, with me gently guiding her down to mount me – Seven Hells, that makes it sound like I’m a horse.
I’ll be whatever she wants.
Again, and as always, I would give her a moment to adjust and make sure she is comfortable. Orwyle’s book said that with well-endowed partners – which, according to the measurements in the book, I am – women may always need that moment.
But I would be glad to give it to her. For it would allow me to unlace her bodice, and like the warlock from the book, I could bury my face in my beloved’s breasts.
I find it hard to imagine what it would be like, how they would feel. Soft, I think. Warm, as she is. And perhaps, if I pressed close enough, I could hear her heart beating.
When I was fully settled within her, would I hear it beat faster? Or would it slow with contentment, knowing she was safe and loved – oh so dearly loved – within my arms. Perhaps it would be like the stories, and I would hear it skip a beat.
Either way, I would be more than content to just sit there, breathe her in, and let her move at her own pace. We would not need to be fast, as we would in the library. In my own rooms – our rooms – there would be no need for hurry. We could just stay there, entwined, or we could move together.
I think I would prefer it slowly. Not even seeking our releases, really. Just… enjoying each other. Enjoying the connection of our bodies, our minds, and our souls. Knowing that we are one, that the gods have made us one, and that nothing can tear us apart.
Although… I do think her legs would get tired after a while. That is something I should perhaps be worried about. Especially if she did want to move, and fast. To seek release.
If she did, I would help her. The book did not detail how, as Lady Coryanne was a servant at the time, but… I could figure it out. I could move my hips up to meet hers, or even lift her on my own? I think doing so with my hands on her hips would give me the most leverage. Or perhaps her rear?
I am very drawn to the idea of holding her close as we reach our peaks. Of feeling her breath on my skin, being close enough to hear each little noise she makes, and the sensation of her gripping me as tight as she can as she comes. Even the thought of her nails digging into me brings a certain thrill. And if I don’t reach my peak with her – which, I think, is very unlikely – we can always continue. Or move somewhere more comfortable if her legs do get tired.
At this point, I think I am more than ready to practice. Of course, this wasn’t my intention when I started writing, but… yes, I am most definitely ready. And anything else I wanted to write about seems inconsequential now.
You dropped the diary onto your heaving chest, the image Aemond’s words had painted still burning in your mind. Seven Hells, you could practically feel his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you to his chest as you moved together, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered words of praise between desperate kisses.
With a hazy smile, you snuggled further into the couch and beneath your blanket. As exhilarating as the descriptions of his desires were, what truly warmed your heart was the way he wrote about you, the two of you together.
The connection of your souls as one? It was exactly what you’d dreamed of when first told of your betrothal. Aemond was what you dreamed of.
Why did he have to stop writing? What in the name of the Seven was he practising that was more important than that?
Frustrated and with your pleasure now truly over, you closed the diary and turned on your side, resigned to simply stewing in your own thoughts for the few hours left until your maids returned.
-
After a light, solitary afternoon meal, you again dismissed your maids. By this point, they were more than a little suspicious about the titleless book you were reading. But, you insisted that you simply wanted to be alone, for your moon’s blood still plagued you. It wasn’t entirely a lie. You did still have some cramping and a slight headache.
In truth, it was because you knew what would happen in just a few entries – your second night together.
It surely wouldn’t be as thrilling as some of his other fantasies. You knew that firsthand. But after learning what Aemond felt for you, you were desperate to know his side of that night.
So desperate, in fact, that you barely skimmed the following two entries in your haste to reach it. Both primarily had to do with whatever smut he had read in A Caution for Young Girls. The first was a rather exhaustive list of all the ways he wanted to kiss you – and there were far more ways than you were previously aware of.
The second caused your most intense blushing yet, for it was near treasonous! After reading another story of Coryanne Wylde ‘riding’ a man, he fantasised about you riding him while he sat on the Iron Throne. It was an intriguing idea, but it seemed a little too hazardous to tempt you.
Finally, you reached what you had been waiting for.
The 26th day in the 5th moon of the year.
I had hoped not to make an entry today – for I had every intention of spending tonight in my wife’s chambers. But she is there, and tragically, I am here.
Tonight was almost worse than our wedding night.
When I saw her watching me in the training yard today, I thought… she was almost smiling – at me! She had no obligation to be there, and yet she was! She sought me out! She wanted to see me!
I had to bite back a cry of joy and relief. I immediately abandoned the rest of my training, nearly impaling the poor squire with my sword for how hard I threw it at him, so I could rush to the ramparts and greet her.
But when I got there, she was gone. I asked a few of the other lords and ladies that were there, but no one knew where she went. Even after speaking to her, however briefly, I still do not understand why she left.
You felt your cheeks flush with shame. Aemond hadn’t grimaced at you that day – quite the opposite. He had been so excited to see you there, and as usual, you had misinterpreted his reaction.
Or, based on how frequently these misunderstandings occurred, perhaps his expressions were merely indecipherable to normal people. Or, more likely, maybe just to you.
You set his diary down, careful to use one of your discarded ribbons to mark your place, and picked up your own. By this point, you had filled several pages with your reactions to Aemond’s writing – some of it sincere, some bordering on humour.
Yet you had no words to express how sorry you were that you had so thoroughly misjudged him. So you wrote nothing and just kept reading.
When I went to her chambers to check on her, I encountered one of her maids, who told me she had retired early with a headache and would not be joining the family for dinner.
Perhaps I should have gone into her chambers then and asked what was wrong. I knew – or at least suspected – that the headache was a lie. An excuse to allow her privacy. I often do the same, citing my scar. Which, as I told her, is not always a lie.
But if I had gone to her, as I wished. I would not have known what to say. Ask her why she ran from the training yard without speaking to me? Or why she wanted to avoid me and the family? Tell her I’m sorry for the disappointment of our wedding night? Ask Beg for a second chance?
I could not do it. I was tired from training and admittedly still somewhat discombobulated from realising she had been watching me. Though I did make it to her door, I merely touched the handle for a moment before retiring to my own chambers.
Now, after yet another disastrous visit… I should have gone to her earlier. I should have trusted my instincts (as Aegon often encourages me to do) instead of allowing my mind to think itself into an inescapable hole.
As I bathed and redressed, and even while attending court and dinner, I could not stop thinking about her. Agonising over what I may have done to make her flee from me?
I never even considered that she may actually have a headache until I was again at her door after dinner. The fear that I was disturbing her, perhaps making her pain worse, was nearly enough to make me turn and flee.
But then, her voice came, soft and light and so enticing. Of course, I somehow managed to answer idiotically when she asked who it was. Though she lessened the sting of embarrassment with a small joke. She is so achingly clever!
I asked her how she was, and her answer made it evident that the headache was a ruse. I am trying not to be too proud that my deduction was correct. She is not used to lying, nor is she good at it. And it is yet another thing I admire about her.
For hours, I planned what I would say to her. It was eloquent and thoughtful – practically poetry.   
The tail of the last ‘y’ extended nearly an inch, and you imagined Aemond just staring at the page, consumed by his thoughts for a moment.
But her room looked different tonight. She finally unpacked.
There is a large tapestry above her hearth depicting her home keep, the field below filled with vibrant pink flowers with bright yellow centres. The same flowers appear nearly everywhere. On framed examples of embroidery, on her curtains, pillows, and even the blanket strewn over the back of her couch.
I must find out what they are, for they are clearly very important to her.
You looked up from the diary, glancing about your room. Indeed, you had not realised how many dog roses decorated your possessions. It was no wonder he guessed they were your favourite.
‘I was quite impressed when you brought me my favourite flower,’ you wrote in your diary. ‘I thought you had somehow read my thoughts. I suppose I made it easy for you.’
She also has a large bookcase in her sitting room, which was specifically requested when her father sent word accepting the betrothal. Since the last time I was in her chambers, she has begun to fill the shelves with books and trinkets. I spotted a small silver bell, a wooden box carved with various birds, and a little glass flower. It was not the same flower that is so prevalent elsewhere in her chambers (this one was a pale purple rather than pink), but still quite pretty.
While pondering that flower, I returned to the couch to compare it to the pink flower on her blanket and saw what she had been reading – “The Last Dragonlords,” my first, and still favourite, history of my house. It is not a particularly rigorous academic work, but I prefer it for the sense of wonder it has for the story of my ancestors.
If, at that point, I remembered any of what I wanted to say to her, the sight of that book, and the knowledge that she was somehow reading my favourite… I lost all words. I fear I fell silent for an uncomfortably long time, for she spoke next.
She wanted to know the reason for my visit. I asked her directly about the ruse of her headache. She seemed nervous, so I told her I do the same and that I often experience lingering pain. I was tempted to remove my patch and show her, but… she was already quite nervous. I did not want to make her more so, or frighten her so thoroughly that she will never warm to me.
What lay beneath his eyepatch that would frighten you so? You had heard many rumours. That his lost eye was nothing more than a pit of darkness. That he had replaced it with a jewel. That an ever-burning fire, fueled by his hatred and rage, burned within.
Despite the stories, you felt a twinge of shame and hurt that, despite his love for you, he did not trust you with seeing him truly bare. He thought you could be frightened away.
Somehow, that shame far overshadowed any curiosity or fear about what lay beneath the brown leather of his eyepatch.
I could already tell it wasn’t going to go how I wanted – she would not meet my eye. So, I offered to leave. I would not impose myself on her when she did not want me to. That is not how I want to start this. Or, start it again.
But she did want me to go! At least, that is what I thought she meant. I am not so sure anymore. She said something about my right to be there as her husband. At the time, I thought it was her shy way of asking me to stay. Now… I think she may have just been repeating something her mother or a Septa taught her.
There was another small patch of angry scribbles.
I’m so stupid! And hardly better than Aegon. No – she may not have been particularly enthusiastic, but I am sure if she genuinely did not want me there, she would have said so. And I would have obeyed. After all, she was quick to ask me to stop some of the other things I tried to do.
She did not like the kissing.
When I first mentioned that I would like to lie with her – which I foolishly reasoned was out of my desire for an heir instead of my desire for her – she simply laid on the bed like on our wedding night. But that is not what I want. I do not want this to simply be a union of duty! At least, not anymore. And I so wanted to kiss her.
So, I beckoned her to me, and she obeyed. My hopes that this would be different were still relatively high. I got closer, touched her face, and asked if I could kiss her.
And she asked, ‘Why?’
I swear that one little word hurt more than any pain I’ve felt in the training yard. Almost more than… well, not quite more than that. But close.
I could not think of any reason other than that she is my wife, and I love her and want more than anything to kiss her. I only told her the former and the latter, for I think if I told her I loved her, she would have been more afraid than if she had seen me without my patch. And the gods must be good, for she said yes.
Then I kissed her. I held her close, and I kissed her.
It was the most wonderful thing! She was soft and warm. And when I laced my hand through her hair, she made the most delightful sound! I could have just kissed her forever.
But then it was over. She shouted and pushed me away. It was… it was just after I tried to use my tongue. I don’t think she liked it.
She asked me why I ‘needed’ to kiss her. She must have disliked it very much.
I had no other explanation than what I had already offered. At least, none that I could tell her without sending her running from me forever. So I stopped and told her I did not need it – the first lie I’ve ever told her.
When she moved back to the bed, I could not help myself. I could not let us be in a marriage where we lie together out of nothing more than duty, fully clothed and anxious to get it over with. It was foolish, and I probably scared her with the request, but I asked her to remove her nightgown. She had already taken off her robe – a massive thing in her house colours that practically drowns her.
You allowed a brief kernel of anger to spark within you, enough for you to pick up your pen and write him another little message in your diary.
‘That robe is dear to me, thank you very much. What is it that makes you hate it so?’
There is nothing more beautiful in the world than her. She puts even the Maiden to shame. I would have been happy to stare at her, to take in that beauty until I had my fill – if I would ever get my fill.
She got on the bed and positioned herself exactly how she was on our wedding night. Not quite how I pictured it, but considering her hesitancy, I did not want to push her.
It took all my control to stop myself from kissing her again when I undressed and joined her. But I did. I also resisted doing anything more than just looking at her breasts.
I sat between her legs and stared at her. While I was more than ready to begin, she was not. At all. Of course, I knew I would have to prepare her, but I hoped she would have had at least some desire for me already.
I started with gentle touches, drawing circles on her thighs. She shivered a bit when I began, but she didn’t ask me to stop. From where I was sitting, I could tell she enjoyed it, even if she didn’t understand it. She did ask me to explain, and my answer was probably lacking – how does one explain why he was so inadequate? – but she gave a small nod when I promised that tonight would be better.
Then I finally touched her where I really wanted to and was delighted to find her… well, not as wet as I’d hoped, but it was an improvement upon our wedding night! I ran my fingers over her entrance, hoping to coax more wetness from her before I truly began. And when I looked at her again to ensure I wasn’t hurting her, she smiled at me!
Encouraged, I kept my fingers at her entrance, not venturing inside yet, but continuing my preparations there while I began to seek her pearl. As the books said, I only had to draw a straight line upward from her entrance to find it.
And, oh, when I found it! Her eyes snapped shut, her back arched off the bed, and the most glorious whine escaped her! It was everything I had imagined and more. Gods, I think I could have peaked just from watching her as I circled her pearl again and again, faster and faster.
But then, she asked me to stop – begged me to.
I thought I must have done something wrong, but she shook her head when I asked if it hurt. And when I asked if it felt good, she would not answer. She merely requested that I get on with what I needed to do and leave, for she was tired. This wound cut even deeper than before with the kissing.
I wanted to prepare her more – I was going to use my mouth on her. To show her how dearly I wish to please her, how much I want to worship and love her, if only she’d let me.
In anticipation of that act, I have been consulting Coryanne Wylde’s various accounts and expert critiques of the act in order to form the perfect strategy.
To begin, I would undress her, as I planned to do on our wedding night, laying gentle, nearly chaste kisses on each new bit of skin I revealed. Once she was bare, I would kiss her. Deeply. To give her a taste of what is to come. Then, I would kiss my way down. Her jaw, her throat, her collarbone, her breasts, and the plane of her stomach.
Once I made it past her navel, I would take her leg in my hand and begin a new trail of kisses upwards. The book says to start at the ankle, but I am too impatient for that – I will begin at the knee instead.
Just when she thought I was finally about to give her what she craved more than anything, I would once again change course to kiss her lips one final time. Then, I would descend.
I would start slowly, experimenting with different tactics to determine what drives her deliciously mad. Once I knew, I would feast. I would devour her like her pleasure was the air I needed to breathe. Like her cries of pleasure were beautiful music, and I would die if it ever stopped.
I would bring her to peak once with my mouth on her entrance. Again on her pearl. Then again and again in whichever way made her scream the loudest.
Only when she was so drunk with pleasure that she could no longer rise to meet my mouth or grasp at my hair would I relent. I would make my way back up to her mouth and soothe her with gentle kisses until she had regained herself and was begging for me to finally fuck her.
But I didn’t get to do any of that.
She asked me to stop, so I did. I pumped myself a little to ensure the disappointment hadn’t rendered me incapable of performing my duty and entered her.
The preparation did help. Entering her was easier, and she did not wince as much as the first time. And she felt even more heavenly somehow. The feeling was so intense that I had to take a moment to remind myself that she only wanted me to finish quickly so she would not have to endure me any longer.
So, I fucked her. I did not make love to her, as is my true desire. I just fucked her, like she was just any woman and not the love of my life.
And then, a miracle! I thrust into her, something about the angle allowing me in quite deep, and she reacted. She gasped, breathless, and her hips snapped up to meet mine. I froze in surprise and elation. I found her ‘sweet spot!’
But when I smiled at her, she turned away and refused to look at me again.
I just kept going. I did not try to hit that spot again, so as to not upset her further. I finished as quickly as I could and left the bed.
It was stupid of me, but I turned back to her after dressing. Everything had gone so horribly, but I still love her. I still need her. So I could not just leave her like that.
I asked if I could kiss her again. She let me. I was quick, as promised.
Then I came back here, once again alone and no closer to earning her love than I was before.
I must meet with my advisors again tomorrow. Perhaps they can help me understand why I keep fucking this up so badly when all I want is for her to let me love her the way I want to and for her to love me in return.
Your heart ached so severely that you thought there might be bruises when you looked down at your chest. But there was just skin – skin that Aemond would have happily kissed, had you let him.
As horrible and confusing as that night had been for you, it had been so tenfold for Aemond. He had wanted a grand, romantic evening, and you had greeted him with only coldness and suspicion.
He called you ‘the love of his life.’ You ran your finger over those words so many times that they became smudged, then went to write something in your diary but halted with your pen hovering over the paper.
What could you write to match what he’d said about you? Even if you could, would it really be true? How many times could you say, ‘I’m sorry?’
Well, at least one more time. ‘I’m so sorry, Aemond,’ you wrote, ‘I didn’t know, and I was still scared. Not of you, but of what I thought my life was to be. If you had only told me… I do not blame you, I swear. I just wish the both of us had been more honest with each other.’
You were far too exhausted to continue. It was not yet midafternoon, and you had already been from the near-heights of carnal pleasure to the depths of your despair that the unfortunate state of your marriage was, in actuality, mostly your fault.
So, after setting Aemond’s diary aside, you picked up your embroidery basket and began to work while your mind wandered.
It was only when your maids arrived to bring you dinner that you realised that, somehow, the dog roses you intended to make had become a sprawling wisteria vine.
-
You dreamed of the castle garden in late spring when all the flowers were in bloom. As you walked down the garden path, you saw every colour imaginable amongst the vibrant greens. But there was only one flower you really wanted to see – and the man you knew would be waiting for you beneath them.
Just as the first purple tendrils came into view, the dream faded, and you woke to see the first hints of dawn still beneath the horizon.
Drawing your blankets over your head, you squeezed your eyes shut and stubbornly tried to fall back asleep and return to your dream – to no avail. You were well and truly awake. And it would be some time before your maids came to dress you for the day.
So, dragging the blanket from your bed with you, you trudged back into your solar and settled into the couch before picking up Aemond’s diary again.
The 27th day in the 5th moon of the year
I met with Lord Wylde, Grand Maester Orwyle, and Aegon this morning. They had advice, but it was not as… straightforward as I had hoped. There is no simple trick to get her to love me. Nothing I can study from a book and then implement with assured success.
I have to woo her. I have to be witty and pleasant and charming and… romantic.
I do not think this is going to work.
Especially not after my first attempt was so disastrous.
Lord Wylde asked that I tell him about her, so I did. When he learned she enjoys reading as much as I do, he suggested I try to find common ground there. So, I went to try and find her in the library.
She was exactly where she was the last time I saw her there, still reading “The Last Dragonlords.” I watched her for a moment, savouring the look of contentment on her face as she read, as well as a few quick reactions to the book. How I love it when her nose scrunches in displeasure!
‘That is quite the odd thing to fixate on,’ you wrote in your diary. It seemed a decent night’s sleep had helped recover some of your humour. ‘What is it, in particular, that you like about my scrunched nose?’
She did smile at me when I approached, but I think she thought I was a Maester, for her smile faltered when I greeted her. And she was so shy. Usually, when I struggle to find the right words, she breaks the silence. Today, she did not.
At least it gave me time to remember why I came to the library. She was still reading “The Last Dragonlords,” so I told her it was my favourite and asked if I could join her. I think she was somewhat embarrassed about reading a children’s book, but I assured her it was no matter and that I would nonetheless enjoy reading it with her, and she allowed me to sit with her.
My plan was to sit with her, discuss the histories, and perhaps, in time, hold her hand as a first step toward genuine affection. But the plan quickly went awry.
It all happened so fast that I don’t even remember exactly what I said. But somehow, I insinuated that she was not intelligent enough to understand the book. The book meant for children – young children.
She was very upset with me. Rightfully so! Still upset enough that she stormed out of the library after making several cutting remarks that proved that she is, in fact, quite intelligent.
After several minutes and a brief reprimand from one of the Maesters, I finally gathered myself enough to realise that she had left the book there. As well as several pages of notes.
Of course, the noble thing would have been to not look and ask a servant to return them to her. But in that moment, I was desperate, not noble. So, I looked.
Her notes were beautifully organised and remarkably thorough – the work of a true scholar! She even crafted a beautiful family tree all the way through Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters. Had I not fumbled our initial interaction so entirely, we would have had a wonderful discussion.
You had feared him finding the notes, but you had never considered that he would be impressed rather than arrogantly amused. It made sense now that you knew his true nature. Perhaps, once whatever was between you was resolved, you could have that discussion.
In all honesty, there were a few questions you had that you hoped he would be able to answer. Not least of which being why in more than a thousand years, Targaryens had only come up with a dozen names that they repeated over and over again. You wrote as much in your diary.
It was useless for me to sulk in the library, agonising over what I should have said, so I gathered the book and her notes and left the library.
An apology was more than necessary, so I went to Aegon’s rooms. After all, there is perhaps no one with more experience apologising to women. Even if his apologies are self-serving.
When I arrived, I found Mother had already found Aegon first, and was well into another tirade about his behaviour. Normally, I would be happy to watch Mother yelling at him, but I did not feel I had time to. And Aegon was glad that I granted him a reprieve.
Admittedly, I had not wanted to admit to Mother that my wife and I were… not as close as I wanted. But, as she always is, she was eminently understanding, and far more helpful than Aegon was. His only suggestion was to bring her something nice – jewels, silks, or the like.
On the other hand, Mother gave me sage advice on what to say when I go to her. As my words have been my primary point of failure, I was very grateful for this. She did also say that a gift would not be amiss. An ‘offering of peace,’ she called it. But she advised something personal, not luxurious. If the gift is too valuable, she says, it will seem as if I am trying to buy her forgiveness rather than earn it.
I knew immediately what I should get her. I thanked Mother (and Aegon) and left at once for the gardens.
I found them – the flowers she loves so dearly. Dog roses, they are called. Unfortunately, they do not grow well in our climate, but the Maester’s managed to coax a few to bloom with their various potions and other horticultural creations.
They are almost as beautiful as her.
The Maester I spoke to said that it would be best if I had them cut just before I brought them to her, to preserve their beauty. So that is what I will do.
I will not practice tonight. At least… not that kind of practice. Instead, I will rehearse my apology. I cannot fail tomorrow.
You winced slightly, knowing that the next day would not go as Aemond planned and feeling as though it was your fault. But there was no changing that now. And you had already apologised – often and profusely.
So, you wrote only a simple note: ‘I don’t recall seeing dog roses on our tour of the gardens. Did you pluck them all?’
Looking back at his diary, you took a deep, steadying breath. Only two ribbons left.
The 28th day in the 5th moon of the year
I am the stupidest, most idiotic man in all the seven fucking kingdoms.
All I was trying to do was apologise to her for my unkind – though unintentionally so! – words in the library, but somehow it ended with her crying and me fleeing from her chambers yet again.
You cringed at the memory, almost not wanting to read on.
Aegon gladly offered his explanation, even after I told him I did not want it. He insists that I have so thoroughly repulsed her that she cannot help but burst into tears at the sight of me.
Mother thinks that she is just missing her family and her home, as she said. That she is overwhelmed by being alone in a strange place, and the familiar sight of the flowers – dog roses, as I have learned – brought those feelings to bursting.
Perhaps Mother is right. But her parents left a fortnight ago, and she has shown no other signs of homesickness. And she is not alone! She has the other ladies of the court to talk to, and Helaena and Mother adore her. And me.
If she came to me, I would do anything to cheer her. Not that she would seek comfort from me, no matter how dearly I wish she would. She certainly won’t after today.
After the disaster in the library yesterday and the scolding I received from Grand Maester Orwyle after my training this morning, I knew beyond a doubt that I needed to apologise. I… the shame I feel for having played any part in the state Orwyle described her in is unbearable.
So, I went to the gardens and had a Maester cut the flowers for me and arrange them in a simple bouquet.
She was on her couch when I arrived in her rooms – still in her nightgown and that robe. And again, she did not look at me. She had eyes only for the flowers. I thought then that they had been the right choice.
I apologised, but she did not react. She still just stared at the bouquet. So, I went ahead with the rest of my apology.
Then she touched my hand. It startled me, and I pulled away from her on instinct, dropping the bouquet in her lap. She looked at them like I had dropped a helpless kitten rather than flowers!
And she started crying. Softly, the tears welling in her eyes for a long moment before spilling over. I do not understand what I did to upset her. I said only what I had planned last night. It was so hard to resist brushing the tears away, but she seemed nearly volatile, and I did not want to make things worse.
‘I miss home,’ she said, finally.
It did sting that she does not consider King’s Landing and her life with me her home – it still does. But she is hundreds of miles away from the family of her birth, from the people who have undoubtedly treated her better than I have. I cannot blame her.
I apologised again for upsetting her and left.
At dinner, I had planned to ask Mother and Grandsire if we could find a way to send her home, at least for a little while. So she could be happy. Perhaps I could even go with her. I might have an easier time talking to her without the pressures of my family and the capital upon me.
You smiled at the thought of Aemond at your home keep. Of him in all his black leather among the fields of dog roses. Talking with your father in the library. Him training with your brothers – you were confident he could defeat any one of them alone, but knowing your brothers, they would absolutely gang up on him.
‘One day,’ you wrote, ‘I would love to show you my home.’
I was waiting for the opportunity to ask when she arrived! After this afternoon, I did not think she would come to dinner, but she did! I could have wept for my relief.
And when I offered my hand to her, she took it. Not only that, but she squeezed it – hard. I think believe it was her way of accepting my apology.
She did not speak during dinner, nor did anyone ask her too many questions. Aegon was his typically infuriating self, silently encouraging me to do something with her. What he expects me to do when in front of the entire family, I do not know.
After the meal, I offered to escort her back to her chambers, which she accepted. And once we were alone, she thanked me for the flowers!
It was going unusually well. That is, until I decided to open my mouth. I only meant to compliment her, as she did look quite beautiful, but… I just kept talking. And then I had suddenly insulted her gown from yesterday and her robe.
She closed herself off from me then, shoving away my arm. Why could I not just shut up? I know my words are the source of so many of our misunderstandings, yet I keep talking! At this point, I am strongly considering a vow of silence.
‘Please don’t take a vow of silence!’ you wrote, scrambling for your diary as if it mattered how quickly you got the words down. ‘Your voice is far too lovely for me to never hear it again.’
Tomorrow, I am going to try a suggestion from Lord Wylde. Show her that I am not a failure in everything I do. I pray it works.
You turned the page, expecting to find the entry for the next day, but there was none. There had been a page between the entries for the 28th and the 30th, but it had been sloppily torn out. All that remained was the beginnings of the date in the upper corner.
It was entirely against what you knew of Aemond. The man who had dutifully started his journal on the first day of the year and began each entry on a new page would not do something like this.
What had upset him so? Had you said something to him?
No, of course not. The only time you had seen him that day was in the training yard, and you hadn’t spoken to each other, not after… not after he stormed off. Had he actually been hurt in his fight with the Kingsguard? Or was he just embarrassed that you had witnessed him fall?
Gods, how you wished you had gone to him that night. But perhaps you could make up for it now.
‘After you were absent for dinner,’ you wrote to him in your diary, ‘I almost came to your rooms. I was worried for you. Though I confess, that was the only reason I found myself walking toward you… I missed you, at dinner. I missed you helping me into my chair. I missed your smile. I missed the way you’d hold the plates for me. Most of all, I missed your voice, and your presence next to me.’
You sniffled slightly, staring at a lamp on your wall to dry the tears that were forming before finishing the entry, ‘I’ve missed you these past days, as well. But I’m almost done. I’ll see you soon.’
The 30th day in the 5th moon of the year
I have made my gravest sin yet. And my most foolish.
We had the perfect morning together in the gardens. Silent, mostly, but perfect. She smiled at me! She allowed me to lead her through the gardens on my arm. It was… precisely what I had hoped for.
Until I once again acted like an absolute fucking fool.
Before I had to leave for court, I asked if I could come to her rooms that night. And for one perfect moment, I really believed she was going to say yes.
But then she mentioned her moon’s blood, and I just… panicked. I am not entirely an idiot (though I become less sure of that declaration with each passing moment), I know what that means.
It means that I’ve failed her. In even more ways than I knew.
I have made her miserable. I have made her cry. I have failed in every duty of a good husband, including the most basic of tasks – I have not given her a child.
I cannot go on like this – trapped in an endless cycle of misery where I can do nothing but hurt the both of us. I must do something to free us from this.
It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t love or even like me. I just want her to be happy. If that means that I never get to see her or love her again, I will make myself accept that.
First, she needs to know why I’ve acted this way. To know my true feelings so she can decide what she wants me to do. Gods, if she wanted me to go to Essos and never return, I would.
A blot of ink covered half the page, as though he had simply set his pen down while he thought.
I know what to do. I just pray she understands.
“I understand,” you said aloud, as though Aemond were before you. But, of course, he wasn’t. He was halfway across the castle, a distance that suddenly felt like the Narrow Sea itself. Throwing down your blanket, you shouted for your maids to dress you at once, your morning meal be damned. The moment finished tying off the last lace of your gown, you ran.
You had only been shown where Aemond’s chambers were once – on your first tour of the Holdfast. Then, you did not know whether to be disappointed or thankful that they were far from yours. Now, as your nervousness flooded through every part of your body, you hated the distance more than anything.
Each step was an effort, as with every one, your legs felt heavier and heavier, as if they were made of iron. Your blood felt as though it was rushing dangerously fast, carrying with it a marked chill. Despite feeling frozen within, sweat still somehow beaded at your brow. Yet you could not wipe it away, for your hands were all but stitched to the two diaries you carried.
Was this a terrible idea? Would Aemond laugh at you for all your silly little notes? Would he be angry with you for taking days to fulfil his request? You came to a halt in the middle of the corridor, tears prickling in your eyes as you considered so many horrible possibilities.
No, you thought, the word echoed by the impact of your foot on stone as you took a heavy, sure step forward.
The Aemond you thought you knew would do those things. But that Aemond wasn’t real – and never was. He had only ever lived in your terrified imagination.
The real Aemond was the one who had been so awestruck upon first seeing you that he could not say anything other than your name. Who had fallen for you so quickly and with such intensity that he forgot how to act like a proper person and instead stumbled over his words and actions like a drunk man through a crowded alley. Who had been so desperate for you to return his affections that he swallowed his pride to seek help. And who had finally given you his diary when he could think of no other way to show you how he really felt and who he truly was.
It was the thought of finally meeting that Aemond that made you put one foot in front of the other, faster and faster, until you were sprinting down the halls, only stopping when you came to the door you had seen only once before – his door.
You did not understand how you had found it again after only seeing it only once before. Nor did you remember knocking on the smooth, dark wood.
But then you heard footsteps approaching.
Hastily, you transferred the diaries to one hand and wiped the sweat from your brow with the sleeve of the other. You wanted to straighten your hair, for it had surely come loose from its braid after running so fast. But there was no time for that.
There was the dull, metallic sound of the door being unlatched, and then there he was.
Aemond stood before you, breathing heavily himself as though he, too, had been running. His silver hair was mussed, and there were smudges of purple beneath his widened eyes – his eyes.
He was not wearing his eyepatch.
Your mouth fell open at the sight. At least one of the rumours had been true. Beneath the raised, rough skin of his scar, in place of his lost eye, was a brilliant blue sapphire. It suited him perfectly and was perhaps the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.
He looked at you for a moment, the corners of his mouth lifting in a hesitant smile before realising what had caught your attention so thoroughly.
“Oh gods,” he whispered, covering the sapphire with his hands and turning away. He took a few steps into the room before speaking again. “I did not mean for you to see this. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Please…”
You said nothing. Silently, you moved into the room and shut the door. Aemond stared at you, his good eye watering as you approached him.
“I’m so sorry,” he said again. “You should not have had to – ” He startled when you brought your free hand up to his wrist and started trying to tug his hand away from his face. “What are you…?”
When your only response was to continue tugging, he relented, allowing you to lower his hand. He swallowed thickly, fixing his good eye on the wall behind you instead of at you. Seeing his shyness, and now knowing it for what it was, almost made you smile.
But your own shyness took hold of you as you guided his hand down and wrapped it around the spines of the twin journals you held. When you looked back up at Aemond, he was staring at them and the green ribbon that now marked a page within your diary.
“I don’t understand,” he breathed, tightening his hold on the books.
With a slight smirk, you gazed up at him and dropped your hand from the diaries. “It’s your turn.”
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midnightstar-90 · 6 months
Text
In Charge
Cooper Family x Fem!Reader | Georgie Copper x Fem!Reader Taglist | Requests | Wattpad Main Masterlist | Other Actors and Characters Masterlist Requested Anonymously: “hi honey! i have no idea if your still taking requests but if you are, could you do a georgie cooper x fem!reader (where they are already dating), and that missy some how convinces everyone to pretend to be a family (like georgie’s the dad, y/n is the mum, sheldon and missy are the kids) and at the end when y/n stays over georgie tells them how great of a mum she would be and how he wants to start a family with her? just pure fluff? love your work so so much &lt;333” Summary: The reader’s in charge and all she wants is Peace, which leads to an interesting conversation between her and Georgie. Warnings: None, really. I mean, there's fluff, but other than that... nothing really A/N: My ADHD is allowing me to write today, so that is what I shall do. This will be based before Georgie drops out of school and has a kid. And because it was an anonymous request, I couldn’t ask, but instead of playing house, I made it as the reader babysitting. That’s kind of like playing house right? I just didn’t know how to make it about them playing house without it basically being Y/N and Georgie babysitting. If you requested this and didn’t like it, I will rewrite it as them all playing house, just privately DM me, if you’d like to remain anonymous. Words: 2.4K
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“Alright, everyone, I’m headed to the store,” Mary said as she exited her room. She made her way through the living room seeing Y/N and Georgie cuddled up on the couch, flipping through channels with no one else in sight.
Mary turned to Georgie and asked, “Where’s your father?”
Georgie’s eyes stayed glued to the TV screen as he gave his mother a shrug of the shoulders. Y/N saw this and slapped Georgie’s shoulder with a hard glare. “Georgie, it’s disrespectful to ignore your mother,” the teenage girl said sternly.
“Ow!” Georgie exclaimed, looking away from the TV to observe his arm for a bruise. When he realized he was okay, he looked up, looking between his girlfriend and his mother. “I didn’t ignore her. I said that I didn’t know.”
Y/N glared and rolled her eyes at the boy before looking over at her boyfriend’s mother. “I don’t know where he went, but he was grumbling about having a hard day,” She said, answering Mary for Georgie. Mary thanked the girl before continuing into the kitchen with a scoff. She mumbled her husband’s name, annoyed, and called out, “Y/N’s in charge.” Georgie’s eyes instantly went wide in shock as he stared wide-eyed at the kitchen entrance, unable to actually see his mother from his current position. Y/N sat next to him with a smirk as they heard the sound of keys jingling and a door closing.
As soon as the door closed, Sheldon stormed out of his room, looking as if he was about to blow his top. “Mom!” He loudly called out, not receiving an answer. 
Georgie paid no mind to the boy, instead bringing him back to the television as if nothing happened. Y/N looked over at the boy with caring eyes and said, “She just left. What’s up, bud.”
“Do you know when she’ll be back?” Sheldon asked frantically.
“No, I don’t. I’m sorry. Is it something I can help with?”
Sheldon hesitated, not knowing if he trusted Y/N enough to help him. He wasn’t used to going to people outside of his family for help. He huffed, “Missy took my Flash action figure, and she won’t give it back.”
Y/N stood from her spot on the couch. Georgie gave her a quick look and then turned back to the TV. “I’m sure Missy wasn’t trying to intentionally upset you, Sheldon,” The girl reassured him in a soft voice.
Sheldon gave Y/N a blank stare. “Have you met my sister?”
She chuckled and said, “Come on. Let’s see for ourselves.”
She followed Sheldon to his shared room, leaving Georgie alone on the couch. As they entered, the two spotted Missy sitting on her bed playing with a Barbie doll and Sheldon’s Flash action figure.”
“See!” Sheldon exclaimed, pointing directly at his twin.
Y/N let out a small “mhm” as she moved to sit on Missy’s bed, next to her. “Hi, Missy.”
“Hi,” She responded, continuing to play with the doll and action figure. (I know there are people who would ridicule me if I put the action figure in the “dolls” category, so I’ll leave it at that.)
“Whatcha doing?”
“Playing.”
Y/N heard a frustrated groan behind her and quietly sighed.
“Missy?” Y/N spoke a bit more sternly than before.
“Hmm.” Missy looked up at the older girl.
“Did you take Sheldon’s to-”
“Action figure,” Sheldon cut the girl off to correct her.
“Did you take your brother’s Action Figure without asking?” Y/N asked. The younger girl gave the teenager an apologetic frown as she slowly placed the dolls on the bed. Sheldon swooped in behind the girl and snatched his Flash action figure from off of his twin’s bed.
“It’s not very nice to take people’s things without asking. What if Sheldon did it to you?”
“I’d punch him in the face,” Missy Responded. 
Y/N scolded Missy, causing her to shy away. “Apologise to your brother.”
“But-”
“I said apologise.”
“This isn’t fair.”
“That doesn’t sound like an apology to me,” Y/N said, still scolding the child in front of her. She heard a snicker behind her and slowly turned to face Sheldon. Sheldon jumped. His smile was replaced with a look of fright. “Something funny?” Y/N asked the boy. She was now scolding him, but it was the frightening position the girl was in that really scared him. Her body was facing his sister, whilst her head faced him. He felt as if he were staring into the eyes of an owl that looked like his brother’s girlfriend.
He quickly shook his head. “No. No problem.”
“I don’t think laughing at someone who is trying to apologize is really respectful. I think you both should apologize to each other,” She ordered. The room went silent for a second before the two suddenly began to speak, simultaneously.
“I’m sorry for taking your stupid doll without asking.”
“I’m sorry for laughing at your terrible excuse for an apology.”
Y/N looked between the two in utter shock. How can they both be this bad at apologizing? She shrugged it off as she stood up from her sitting position. “Well, it wasn’t the best, but we’ll get there.  For now, I don’t want to hear any more about this Flash doll-”
“Action figure.”
“Whatever! I don’t want to hear about it anymore, okay? The two nodded and the girl took that as her cue to go. She went back into the living room to see Georgie still watching TV. She scoffed, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend.
As she approached her spot on the couch, Georgie looked up, finally noticing her. “Hey, you’re back,” Georgie said with a smile. “I kept your seat warm for you.” He patted the spot where she sat, earlier. 
Y/N looked down at the couch cushion in disgust. “Literally or figuratively, because I told you last time that that was gro-”
“Relax. It was figurative. Geez, you do one thing as a joke, and suddenly you’re labeled for life.”
Y/N laughed at her boyfriend's dramatics as she joined him on the couch. Georgie looked over at the girl, admiring everything about her. In his mind, he saw Y/N as the prettiest girl in the universe. No one compared to the girl when it came to looks, smarts, and her nurturing personality. 
He wrapped his arm around the girl and pulled her into his chest. “You know, I think you would make an amazing mother one day,” Georgie said, catching Y/N off guard. She lifted her head off of her boyfriend’s chest so that she could look at him.
“Wow! Where did that come from?”
“I’ve seen you with my family, and despite how messed up it is, you manage to wedge yourself into everyone’s heart one way or another. Not to mention the fact that I heard how you handled Sheldon and Missy, just now. That’s something I’ve only seen my mother do and succeed. But in my opinion, you did it best,” Georgie said. Y/N’s heart was racing as watched and listened to Georgie speak about her. Tears brimmed her eyes as she gave the boy a loving smile before giving him a quick kiss.
“Awe, Georgie. That’s the sweetest thing anyone has said to me.”
“Well, it’s true.”
“If it’s any consolation, I think you’ll be an amazing father.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Y/N chuckled. The two pulled each other in super close for a tight hug. Y/N’s head, once again rested on Georgie’s chest. She closed her eyes as she took in the aroma of her boyfriend’s cologne. Georgie placed a kiss on top of her head, wishing that this moment would never end.
When they pulled out of the hug, Y/N moved slightly away from the boy, so that she could get a better look at him. She wore a mischievous smirk as she asked, “When you thought of me as a mother, what did you envision?”
She chuckled as she watched Georgie think for a second. “I saw you… as my wife. And in your arms, we have a son, who you can never put down because he loves his momma so much that if you try to put him down, he screams. And don’t get me started on the sleeping situation.” Y/N laughed, making Georgie smile. She motioned for Georgie to continue. “Okay, well we also have 4 other kids.”
Y/N’s eyes went wide in astonishment. “5 kids? You think of us having 5 kids?” 
“And a dog. Anyways there’s little Joanne, but she goes by “Jo”. She’s a tomboy and a daddy’s girl at the same time. Then there is Tommy. He’s a year older than Jo, and he’s tough. If you mess with his siblings you are in a world of hurt.”
Y/N nodded her head, saying a small “okay,” as she continued to listen. “The oldest two are Fawn and Sam. Their completely different, but the two are always together, which sometimes leads to fighting. That’s where you, the mamma bear come in. You know all your kids, and you know how to easily tame them.”
“I like it,” Y/N chuckled. “Now I don’t know if I can handle 5 kids, but I love your idea of what our family would look like in about 20-30 years.”
“Hold on. You want to wait until we're in our 30’s and 40’s to have kids?”
“Sorta. I mean having all those kids is gonna take time. And how will we support them if we aren’t stable? You can take care of kids all day, but who is gonna provide? Kids are expensive, Georgie. You gotta feed them, clothe them, put them through school, take them to the doctor. You need money for all of those things.”
“And I can do that,” Georgie added. “I’m gonna be the moneymaker. I’ll have a job that pays well, and move us into a nice, big house.”
“What about me?”
“What about you?”
“I don’t want to be a housewife. I want to have my own job. And why do you get to be the main source of income?” 
“First off, I didn’t say you had to be a housewife. You can have a job, but I want to be the one who gives you everything you want. I want to take care of you and to do that, I work hard, maybe even owning my own company.”
“Businessman. I can somewhat see it.”
“Well, I will be. That’s how we can afford everything because my business is booming,” Georgie assured the girl. Her smile remained on her face, getting wider and wider as they went deeper into their hypothetical future together.
The two continue to talk for a few more minutes as the sound of feet walking across the floor gets closer and closer to them. The sound eventually stops behind Y/N. Georgie looks up and glares at the person who interrupted their moment together. “What now, Sheldon?” Georgie asked with a touch of irritation.
“I’m hungry,” Sheldon spoke. Y/N turned to look at the boy.
Georgie responded to Sheldon, “You’re smart, don’t you know how to make you a sandwich?” Y/N kicked Georgie’s leg, receiving a small “ow” from the older boy.
“Sheldon, your mom went to the store. I’m sure she’ll be back soon and she will start on dinner.”
“But I’m hungry now.”
“Sheldon, if you eat now, then you are gonna spoil your appetite. And you know more than anyone that it takes longer than an hour or two to digest your food, so why don’t you go back in your room, and wait.”
“Okay,” Sheldon sighed as he made his way back to his room.
“See! You just tamed a wild Sheldon, that’s almost impossible.” Y/N rolled her eyes at Georgie’s comment.
“Y/N!” Missy called out walking into the living room. Y/N watched the younger girl walk in with an arm full of dolls. “Y/N, will you play with me? I’m bored, and I have no one to play with.”
“Sure,” Y/N agreed, giving Missy a beaming smile. She moved off the couch. “What? Nooo! Where are you going?” Georgie asked, frowning up at his girlfriend as she moved farther and farther away from him. Missy quickly grabbed Y/N’s hand with her free hand and started pulling her toward her room. Y/N looked back at Georgie and whispered “Sorry,” whilst laughing at Georgie’s expression.
Georgie eventually left the couch and went to his room. He was jealous of the fact that Missy and Sheldon had basically hogged up all their time together. He aggressively flopped on his bed and opened up the magazine he was reading before Y/N came over.
His door was open, in case Y/N got bored of playing dolls with Missy and wanted to join him. So when Mary walked into the house and dropped her keys in the key bowl, Georgie heard it. Y/N must have heard also, because as soon as he heard his mother grunt, probably from bringing in groceries, Y/N rushed out of the room and graciously helped the woman.
Georgie stood from his bed and curiously entered the kitchen. He watched Mary and Y/N laugh as they walked back into the house with the groceries. “I must admit Y/N since Georgie has started seeing you, he’s been different.” Y/N looked up at the woman with a frown. “No! Not in a bad way. He’s kinder and a bit more respectful. And look at this house! Usually, I come home and there is something that needs cleaning up, and today, it’s just as I left it.”
“Well, thank you, Mrs. Cooper. We did have some issues, but it was quickly resolved and the peace was restored.”
“Oh, you don’t have to think of me. You did an excellent job. I hope one day I get to call you my daughter-in-law.”
“Awe. Stop Mrs. Copper. You’re gonna make me cry,” She said, fanning her bright red face. Georgie saw the tears lining her eyes from where he stood.
The front door opened, revealing George walking into the house in his work clothes. He saw Georgie standing in the kitchen watching his mother and girlfriend interact. “What are you doing?” He asked his son as he approached.
“Mom and Y/N are… bonding? I don’t actually know what’s happening,” Georgie said with a shrug of his shoulders.
George chuckled and clapped his hand against his son’s back. “From me to you, good luck. You’re gonna need it.” And with that, George was gone, leaving a confused Georgie alone with his thoughts.
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leclerc-hs · 5 months
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me or him? - cl x hs
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Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader, ex!harry styles x fem!reader Summary: a request from anon, in which your ex (harry styles) shows up to the paddock and brings jealousy to Charles Warnings: some smut, language, bad writing?? Word Count: 1098 Author's Note: You ask and I shall deliver!! Sorry I didn't make Harry as toxic in it, it was hard for me to make him too much of an asshole because he's such a cutie patootie LOL. I really did want to make him more of an asshole. Maybe I'll make another. I hope it's up to your standards for now! I tried my best ❤️ French edits made by @shewantsvengeance!!!
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
YOU COULDN'T HELP but feel like the universe was playing a twisted joke on you. In what world would Harry Styles be attending a Grand Prix, let alone the Monaco Grand Prix, and to make things even more surreal, he’s in the Ferrari garage. Where you presently stood beside Charles.
To the casual observer, it might not have seemed like anything out of the ordinary. Just another celebrity making a visit to the paddock. But there was a significant detail that set this celebrity apart from the rest: he happened to be your ex-boyfriend.
It was a detail of your past you didn’t get to mention. To be fair, you and Charles were still a relatively new couple, and you hadn’t found the right moment to discuss past relationships with one another just yet. 
“You look so beautiful, ma chérie.” My darling. You both were hidden in the corner as he pecked a gentle kiss onto your lips. Your hands slowly wrap around the back of his neck, a knot formed in your stomach. You needed to give him some warning.
“Cha, I need to tell you this fast. My ex-boyfriend is here.” You whispered it so fast and so low you don’t even know if he heard you correctly.
You and Harry hadn’t parted on bad terms; in fact, your breakup had been quite mutual. However, it was also fair to admit that it was messy in terms of ending up in each other’s bed every so often. But that was before. Before Charles.
“Y/N?” A voice interrupts, and you both quickly separate from each other. You felt like a deer in headlights.
“Harry! How are you doing?” You gave Harry a small, polite hug, still avoiding eye contact with Charles. The thought of his reaction made you nervous, and you couldn’t get yourself to meet his gaze. 
Charles had never exhibited a penchant for possessiveness, or at least, you had not perceived him as such. Nevertheless, in this instant, the proximity of your ex-boyfriend, who gazed at you as if you were the sole focus of this entire room, ignited an uncontrollable urge to clench his fists and drag you someplace else. Somewhere far away from here.
“Doing well,” Harry began, his gaze unwavering on your face. “I thought I’d run into you at the annual Christmas soiree,” he mused with a chuckle, following it with, “I’ve missed you.”
You almost choked on your response.
Charles could sense his frustration intensifying at the undivided attention of Harry seemed to be giving you. Although you continued to avert your gaze from Charles, the vice-like grip of his hand on your hip conveyed an unmistakable message of his discontent.
Harry’s gaze traveled, from your face down your body, following the path of Charles’s hand that had claimed its place. A slight frown forming on his lips.
“Harry, meet Charles, my boyfriend.” You said with a soft smile. Harry extended a hand towards Charles, who, though still visibly tense, accepted the handshake.
Silence filled the space between them, unspoken words hanging in the air. You found yourself ensnared amid an unvoiced rivalry. Harry who struggled to divert his attention from your face for more than a fleeting moment. Charles who wanted to stake claim.
Charles felt increasingly invisible as you and Harry further engaged in conversation. He couldn’t even decipher what you were discussing at this point. His focus had shifted entirely to observing the way Harry was looking at you. Like he wanted you. Like he had no shame.
It made Charles livid.
“Ma chérie, we need to go grab my helmet. I left it in my driver’s room.” Charles cut off the conversation by pulling you away. Not even sparing another glance to Harry. 
You didn’t get to see the expression on Charles’ face as he hurriedly led you into his driver’s room. You didn’t even have a chance to take a single step, as the moment the door was shut, you found yourself pushed up against it and your dress was bunched at your waist.
"You're helmet was literally in the garage Cha," you squealed out.
“Are you trying to drive me insane?” His breath was hot against your ear. You felt goosebumps arise almost instantly at the sound of him shoving his race suit down his legs to free himself. 
“Thinks he can have you back.” He scoffed. “Thinks he can stare at what’s mine.”
He spit directly onto his hand, mimicking the gesture of spitting on the sidewalk. An act of frustration. Almost instantly, he brought his fingers between your fold. “Ma chérie, you’re already so wet.” He hissed as he rubbed his cock through your slick folds.
“Always,” you breathed out heavily as he pushed himself all the way in. “Always for you.” 
His hands were fervent, rubbing and pinching all the right areas to send you quickly towards the edge. 
“Yeah?” He emitted a deep, guttural moan, quickening his rhythm as his hand descended to the spot that you yearned for most. You began nodding your head fervently in response.
Yes. Yes, you’re the only one. You’re the only one I ever want.
“You all wet for him? Hm?” He sneered. “Talking to him got you all hot and bothered?” He was playing with fire.
“No, never,” you were shouting. Needing more. More of him. 
“You’re my little slut, ma chérie?” He groaned in your ear. His hips rapidly picking up the pace. You found yourself utterly incapable of forming a coherent response; the strokes of his cock so deep you were in bliss. Instead, all that escaped your lips were unintelligible groans, a testament to the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. “Look at you, so cock dumb. Can’t even speak properly.”
It didn’t take much time at all. Your intense desire for him, your deep connection, it all culminated in a swift and intense climax. Him, lost in the same ecstasy as he quickly finishes all over your backside. Dragging his heavy cock over your ass to smear his cum into you.
After a few moments of heavy panting and the gradual return of normal breathing, you finally turned to meet Charles’ gaze. His countenance bore a mix of elation and something more complex, not quite sadness, but perhaps a touch of insecurity.
“Cha, you’re the only one I want.” You confirmed the phrase with a firm kiss to his lips. You felt him smile into it. His hands squeezing any area of your body he grabs onto. As if you would wither into thin air if he didn’t. 
“You’re stuck with me, ma chérie.” He pulled away. “I’m never letting you go.”
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alyakthedorklord · 1 year
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Welcome to Danny’s Part 2
People have been asking for more of this ^^ so here you go, have a really long word vomit of stuff i think is funny
(IM NOT WRITING THIS FIC GDI I HAVE ENOUGH WIP’S!)
Danny’s restaurant is ALSO manned by-
Tucker, who will fix your tech for free, has tattoos of hieroglyphics and lines of code that shift around when he gets busy.
Sam, who makes an express line for veggie orders. If you try to order meat from sam all the potted plants start trembling.
Jazz, who has a special booth in the back and Magically makes people dump their deepest secrets to her in streamlined Liminal Powers Therapy. (It’s a bit weird but hey the people she targets feel better so whatevs.)
Dani, who shares pictures from tourist traps she's visited, though there’s also some REALLY WEIRD pics of alternate realities and cult shenanigans mixed in. Some of the older patrons are concerned. She’s a little too young to do all this alone- actually, how old is she? Her father looks like he’s in his early twenties…
Dan, who is working here while “on parole” and often loudly argues with Danny about it.
“I don’t want to work in your stupid shop, Dad!”
Dan is two whole feet taller than danny and three times as wide i will not be taking constructive criticism. He’s a whole silver fox. There are some ladies who have a crush on him and they’re really concerned if he’s legal bc danny is younger than them how is Dan his child-
“Dan, how old are you?”
“I don’t know, like, a hundred sixty something?”
(Lady turns to look at Danny, who shrugs and smiles.) “time dilation. What a world we live in. Dan, kiddo, can you get some more napkins from the back?”
“Ugh, fine, dad.”
The first villain Danny ACTUALLY fights isn’t the Joker. It’s Condiment King. Dan runs away from him, which is already weird bc guy is MASSIVE, and the condiment king chases him bc YES SOMEONE FINALLY FEARS HIM PROPERLY.
Danny bursts out of the shop in righteous fatherly fury and beats the snot out of him. Everyones is confused bc… what? Dan is massive? Why is he scared? Why is the twink beating the snot out of condiment king?
“Dan had a traumatic experience with Burger Sauce.” Danny explains, glaring down at the rouge at his feet. He kicks him, growls, “Don’t mess with my kid.” And walks back inside.
No one asks, bc this is gotham. Asking is rude, and also it lessens the Mystery that is Danny’s. No one knows how the kids came into existence. No one knows, before someone from out of town (metropolis, ugh) asks about the sign.
The sign outside the shop says:
Welcome to Danny’s!
Do no harm and no harm shall befall you.
Start nothing and nothing will be ended.
We have baseball bats and fists and a mean swing.
This establishment does not serve- guys in white (suits), Vlad, Transphobes, Vlad, Clowns, VLAD.
Do not ask for the secret menu. If you can get it, Danny will offer it.
(Don’t scare the other customers, please.)
When asked who Vlad is, bc he’s banned three times, Danny just kind of sighs.
“He’s my kid's other parent. He’s an obsessive creep who completely ignores Danielle because she’s a girl, rolling in money but won’t pay his child support. You know how it is.”
Several goons ask what he looks like so they can keep an eye out. Dani happily tells them “look at Dan, take away Dad’s features, then convert 30% of his height and weight into smarminess.”
It's an effective description. Vlad gets full body tackled the moment he enters the neighborhood. Danny gives the goons free fudge (family recipe, one of the restaurants signatures)
One of the reasons Danny’s is so popular is bc its open 24/7. (Unless its one of those weird times where all the doors are locked and if you look through the window blinds theres nothing but a starry void.) One of the reasons Danny’s is so weird is bc Danny is ALWAYS behind the counter. Always. Round the clock. He doesn’t sleep, eat, anything. Some people swear he has a twin he swaps out with (clones).
Sometimes, after a really difficult customer, Danny will let out a really long sigh and mutter “time out” before glitching into a new position, with a new shirt and combed hair. No one mentions it.
Theres a deal that’s just, “beat danny in a fight you eat for free.”
The deal extends to both Dan and Dani as well. Even if you lose you get fudge as a reward for courage.
No one ever wins.
One time, a couple brought their kid, recently discharged from the hospital. Danny comes over to them and grins. “Hey, kiddo! Bet you gave your parents a scare, huh? Pulled through in the end. That means you get the secret menu!”
Parents: hey wtf?
Danny, handing over a perfectly normal menu: 😀
Kid: “ooh mommy look at the glowy stars!”
Parents: !?!?!?
Danny: 😁
Old man Dave, whose heart has stopped like three times now: “Oh don’t worry about that, prices are the same and it will help your kid feel much better. Danny’s just a little weird.”
After all, it’s not just full ghosts that get the menu. If you’ve been dead, heart stopped, soul out of body before being popped back into place, then you get it. There’s actually a pretty high number of people who get it, bc this is Gotham. People get resuscitated after rogue attacks. The ecto actually helps stabilize their soul after getting jerked between life and death so rudely.
The secret menu that they’re given is just a normal menu, scribbled over top with an ecto pen, invisible to non-secret menu havers. Different “ecto-levels” to choose from, and three extra dishes. There’s also instructions to get into the “back room” for those who can’t go intangible, though it comes with a disclaimer “not for the faint of heart.”
There’s also a small note at the bottom- “do not share food.”
Anyways, as per original post. Tim herds Joker into Danny’s radar bc he Cannot Deal Right Now. He salutes Danny, who waves back, grinning like he didn’t just come at the Clown Prince of Crime like a feral badger on crack cocaine. “Heya, Red Robin! You want a coffee?”
“Please.” Tim sighs. “You’re the best, Danny.”
Jason looks between tim and the shop danny just vanished into. “Uh, what?”
“Danny doesn’t like clowns.” Tim explains. “Or condiment king. They get close, Danny takes them out.”
Jason is incredibly confused, bc he just came back from an out of town mission, but this place is right on the edge of his territory and he should definitely know about it. He asks tim, who just shrugs.
“That shop is weird. It’s like a grocery store at 3am. I stumbled in there after a rough night and Danny just whipped me up the best coffee i've ever had. Still can’t find their website. I swear it’s bigger on the inside and the door keeps swapping from one side of that fire hydrant to the other.”
Danny comes out and passes Tim a massive coffee cup. “Come back and talk shop with tucker, okay? You’re welcome any time. Both of you, actually.”
He gives Jason a weird look and then goes back inside.
Jason, who is a little concerned that the reverence tim has is more than his average weird worship of coffee (it's just that good) goes back the next day in civvies.
He gets offered the secret menu, danny does the eye thing, Jason retreats to look at the secret menu. Unsure of what just happened, he texts tim.
Jason: Why was i given a “secret menu”
Tim: WTF WHAT DID YOU DO TO GET THAT
Jason: IDK THATS WHY IM TEXTING YOU
tim: I'VE BEEN GOING FOR MONTHS I’M A LOYAL PATRON WHAT DO YOU HAVE THAT I DONT
Jason: the secret menu apparently (image)
Tim: …thats just the normal menu???
Jason: no? It looks like a kid went ham with a neon green marker tf?
Duke: you know this is the family chat right?
Steph: order the waffles
Jason: you order the waffles. Wtf is an ecto-level.
Jason asks for what danny recommends, Danny immediately gives him a milkshake and tells him it's on the house bc he “looks rough.”
Jason is kind if offended, bc he actually got a decent sleep- but then he tries it and its like.
Oh.
Now. Between the stink Tim is making, and the sudden worship that Jason has of this shops milkshakes, the BatFamily is now Curious and will Investigate.
Are the milkshakes really that good?
The full force of the Wayne Family™ isn’t exactly subtle, so they go in twos and threes over the course of a week.
Damian gets offered the secret menu, and is also directed towards Sam’s express vegetarian line. Danny just Knew. Damian accuses Tim and/or Jason of pulling a prank on him, but they both swear up and down they didn’t say anything.
Both Steph (i think? Did she fake her death or actually die idk) and Cass get the secret menu, and they keep trying to ask Tim what certain things on the menu mean. Tim Cannot See what they’re talking about. He’s starting to get frustrated. Is it some sort of magic spell?
Tim takes Kon to Danny’s. (Is it a date? A test date on a low-stakes investigation? Maybe.) Danny, who is really starting to enjoy messing with Tim, gleefully offers Kon the secret menu, and Tim the normal one. Tim bangs his head on the table.
Dick doesn’t get a secret menu, but he does notice a couple disappear through the wall. He’s almost certain he’s seen them before, but it will be a while before he remembers Kitty and Johnny from his early Robin Days.
Duke is also not offered a secret menu, but he can see the writing anyways. He can also see that some of the patrons have weird auras, and what on EARTH is up with Danny himself? He tries to ignore it, up until Steph gets him to order one of the specials off Cass’s (secret) menu. And Danny just kind of sharpens, the air going cold.
“I didn’t give you that menu. Just because you can read it, doesn’t mean you want it. Order off the right menu, please.”
Duke, freaked the hell out by the Biblically Accurate Horror that Danny is shifting into, orders off the right menu and apologizes.
“Oh, it’s alright!” Danny flips back to cheerful in seconds. “It’s just that it wouldn’t be completely healthy for you to eat it, even if you are part immortal.”
Duke bluescreens.
Alright, somethings definitely going on.
Tim and Jason both order the same thing- an oreo milkshake, one off the secret menu, one off the normal menu. Jason confirms the one from the normal menu does not taste the same and isn’t as good. Tim cannot confirm the other way around, because Jason nearly punches him when he attempts to taste it.
They take samples home, analyze them, and go over anecdotes from other patrons, trying to figure out what makes Danny’s so weird. What makes Kon, Cass, Jason, and Damian different?
Wait a second. Kon, Cass, Jason, Damian. The ones that died and came back to life.
It’s around this time that Dick remembers where he’s seen Kitty and Johnny before. Lovers from two houses, both alike in (in)dignity, had a romeo-and-juliet-esque escapade across Gotham, ending in high speed chase with Kitty’s gangster father and a fatal motorcycle accident. Both are dead. Both are in Danny’s.
Danny’s has something to do with death.
Having heard a couple stories about food of the dead, they notify Bruce (who is very concerned as to what exactly his children have been putting in their mouths) and then call in the magic users of the justice league.
It’s a mess. Dan calls Constantine a whore. Deadman and Secret (i think thats Tim’s ghost friend?) get abducted to the backroom. Dani clocks Capt. Marvel as another kid who looks older than he actually is, with magic powers, and his showing him her REALLY interesting travel photos. Zatanna is like “this place needs an exorcism” and danny just goes “ma’am please don’t exorcize my customers.”
Tag list (if you saw me attempt this before no you didn’t)
@nappinginhell @apointlessbox @thegatorsgoose @chaos-n-kindness @mimilikey @phoenixdemonqueen @treepainting @sjrose1216 @akikkobara @malice-of-the-sunrise @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @randomkiddoscrewingaround @call-me-strega @blankliferain @somera-rubina @wordsgohere95 @rukiaai @mirellacoco @stargazing-bookwyrm @bathildaburp @littlefeather345
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apute11as · 3 months
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Hurt - Alexia and Jenni x child!reader
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Summary: A trip to the park before a match leads to disaster and an emotional revelation.
Warnings:⚠️swearing, injury, hospitals, shouting
Based on this request🤍
Words: 2765
P.s. Any feedback or requests is always welcome in the comments or ask box! Both are very helpful in terms of writing more fics :)
~~~~~~~
It was a beautiful sunny day in Barcelona, you were at your favourite park with Tia Alba, Mama and Mateo’s other Mommy. You’d met up with them before the match where you’d watch Irene and Mami.
You knew Mama was now 6 months pregnant which meant that she couldn’t play football anymore. It also meant that she was less mobile and couldn’t move as quickly. There was an incident a couple of weeks ago with some pushy fans that wanted Mama’s autograph when the two of you were walking back from school. You shouted at the people like you knew Mami would if she was there, protecting your Mama and baby sibling. An older woman came to the rescue, ushering the invasive fans away and walking with the two of you for a bit.
Alexia hadn’t planned on mentioning the incident to Jenni but when you came out with an unprecedented “mean people shoved mama”, causing Jenni to flip out. After that, Alexia felt that she had to tell the story to diffuse her wife’s growing anger but in actual fact she made it worse. Jenni has become hesitant for Alexia to leave the house alone, knowing all too well how invasive the fans are of player’s private lives and more so, personal spaces.
However, she was fairly confident today that Alexia would be fine, being with her sister and Irene’s wife. Although, she would find that Alexia wasn’t the one she had to be worrying about today.
——
As the three women watched you and Mateo playing on the climbing frame, Alexia started to feel some discomfort. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a sign that she’d likely be needing to pee pretty soon.
“I’m going to go and see if I can find a bathroom, baby is making me uncomfortable” stated the blonde, attempting to hoist herself upwards which was hard due to the considerable bump she was now sporting.
“Are you okay Ale?” asked Lucia, alba was too preoccupied staring at a woman she found attractive.
“Yeah yeah fine thank you, just baby making me need to pee 24/7” chuckled Alexia.
“There’s an ice cream shop around the corner, I’ll come with you if that’s okay and we can get the kids an ice cream?” Questioned Lucia
“Yeah sure,sounds good! Albs can you watch the kids whilst we’re gone?” Alexia asked her younger sister.
“What? Oh yeah watch the kids of course” she replied, as if she’d been paying any sort of attention.
With that, the pair left in search of the ice cream shop, leaving a distracted Alba to watch over you and Mateo.
“Hola guapa” said the older brunette that Alba had been making eyes at
“Hola” replied Alba with a smile and the two began a conversation, distracting Alba further so that she failed to notice you planning to jump off the top of the tower to show off to Mateo.
——
“Look Mateo I’m the queen of the castle and you’re the dirty rascal!”
“Are you coming down now” groaned the boy
“Yes I’m gonna jump from the top!” You beamed
“That’s really high y/n what if you fall?”
“I won’t I’m a big girl!” You insisted
Then with little more warning, you lept off the high ledge of the climbing frame, falling to the floor and crumpling into a heap with a snap.
“AGHHHH” you screamed in pain.
Alba was oblivious to it all, putting the screaming down to being just children playing.
A couple of other mothers rushed in yours and Mateo’s direction on instinct after hearing the scream, being able to tell the difference between playful and pained. You lay on the floor, clutching your arm as the mother’s reached you.
“Are you ok sweetheart?” One asked
“Where’s your mommy?” Another said
“Mama gone!” You cried out
“Are you okay y/n?” Asked Mateo “shall I go get your Tia Alba?”
“want Mamaaaa!” You wailed
Mateo had ran off to tug at Alba’s skirt now and pointed in your direction to which Alba apologised to the woman and followed the little boy.
“Oh bebé are you okay?” asked alba cradling your face
“Are you her mother?” Spat a woman who looked to be in her late 30s.
“No I’m her Tia” Alba spat back “what happened?”
“She jumped and fell off the climbing frame which you would’ve noticed if you were paying any sort of attention!” shouted the woman.
“EXCUSE ME?” yelled Alba
“Tia Alba I want Mamaaaa” you cried
“Okay bebé, she’ll be on her way soon!” She assured you, turning her back to the mother she’d just argued with.
——
Alexia and Lucia had just returned from the shop, holding two ice creams. However, alexia quickly thrust the one she was holding into Lucia’s hand upon seeing Alba hunched over your small body. She ran as fast as she could to reach you.
“WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED ALBA?” She demanded, dropping to her knees at a pace that would’ve had Jenni scolding her for her carelessness.
“She jumped and fell” said Mateo from beside you.
“Oh Bebita come here” she said cradling you into her chest.
“Alba was talking to the pretty lady over there” said Mateo, telling on the brunette.
“Oh for fucks sake Alba really?” Alexia scolded furiously. “What hurts mi amor?” Alexia turned to you.
“My arm Mama” you whimpered, cried muffled by Alexia’s body.
——
After another trip to the ice cream shop bathroom to clean you up and a lot of arguing between Alexia and Alba, the group finally made it to the game, albeit a little later than intended.
You found your seats without much fuss, in the family and friends section of course. Mama sits beside you, you stand on your seat anytime anything interesting happens. Mama tries to join your standing up when the goals go in, but is reminded of her condition when the baby harshly kicks her in the ribs.
“Ouch!” She yelped
“Okay Mama?” You asked, brow furrowed in concern.
“I’m okay mi alma, bebé is just celebrating in there too” she assured you, rubbing her bump.
——
The game ended a comfortable 3-0 win over Sevilla, with your Mami scoring two of those goals. Your arm was hurting still but you didn’t want to tell Mama because she might start shouting at Tia Alba again. Mami and the team had just started to come out of the changing rooms to thank the fans and sign some stuff, when Mapi spotted you. She bounded over to where you were sat, dragging ingrid along with her.
“Hola mi chica how are you?” She shouted over the railings as Ingrid greeted Alexia, enquiring about the baby.
“You won Mapi!!” You cheered
“Si we did, your Mami scored two goals!” she reminded you
“Hold on bebita I’ll lift you over the railings and you can go see Mapi and Ingrid okay?” Questioned Alexia.
“No Ale you shouldn’t with the baby” insisted Mapi. Alba was at the bathroom and Lucia and Mateo had already excused themselves to go and greet Irene.
“I’m pregnant not frail, I can lift my daughter over a barrier” huffed Alexia, hoisting you to meet Ingrid’a waiting arms.
“OUCH” you yelped
“What hurts Elskling?” Ingrid questioned, concern flooding her face
“My arm” you sobbed
“She fell off the playground today and hurt her arm, because Tia Alba was too busy flirting with a married woman to pay attention” ranted Alexia, causing Mapi to burst out laughing at Alba’s discrepancies, earning her a slap of warning from Ingrid.
“Oh dear bebé is your arm alright?” Asked Ingrid
“It’s ok I guess let’s go I want to see Mami!” You urged
“Are you coming too Alexia?” Asked Mapi with a furrowed brow
“Si it might take me a minute to get down though” she laughed
“You go ahead with y/n Maps, I’ll help Alexia down and we’ll follow you” assured the Norwegian.
Mapi took you off Ingrid, carefully and started a fast walk over to the team. Upon reaching them, you were greeted with smiley faces of all the girls. You spotted Mama signing a fan’s jersey and waited patiently for her to be done.
Shortly after, she noticed you stood behind her, wearing a Barça jersey with her name on it.
“Oh mi amor there you are!” She exclaimed, tuning to face you.
“Mami! I loved your goals!” You beamed
“Did you, well there was one for you and one for Mama!!” She smiles back, reaching to pick you up. As she did, you felt a shooting ache spread through your arm.
“OW MAMI STOP!” You yelled, gaining the attention of some if the girls nearby.
“What bebita what hurts?” She asked, alarmed at your sudden pain.
“My arm, it feels floppy!” You burst into tears.
“Oh bebé come here!” she urged, carefully picking you up on the other side, avoiding the arm you cradled.
Just as you’d gotten into her arms, Alexia and Ingrid caught up with you. Upon noticing your tearful expression, she picked up her pace to meet you and Jenni.
“She’s hurt her arm Ale, I don’t know what happened I just picked her up and she started crying!” Jenni stammered
“It wasn’t you, she fell at the park earlier and landed on her arm, she’s complained about it a few times now, maybe we should go get it checked out” alexia offered
“Oh no bebita” she fawned over you “Yeah we should probably go to the hospital I mean it can’t hurt surely?” Jenni agreed.
——
The three of you made a swift exit out of the building, Jenni grabbed her bags whilst you and Alexia wandered to Jenni’s car. Jenni and Alexia told the girls what had happened and where they were going, which everyone seemed to understand.
You helped Mama into the car by rushing ahead to open her door, like you’d watched Mami do countless times. Mama thanked you by kissing your head with a smile and calling you a gentlewoman. Mami returned with her bags shortly after and the three of you made your way to the hospital.
Alexia was stressing throughout the whole car journey and was making some rather vulgar comments about Alba for leaving you alone and allowing this to happen. Jenni placed a steadying hand on her thigh, reminding her that you were fine and safe in the car with them (and that your little ears were likely picking up the string of words flowing from her mouth).
When you got to the hospital, you were trembling. The building was big and everyone was walking around in white outfits. You could feel that your Mama was stressed too with the way she was gripping your hand tightly and muttering through her teeth at your Mami for taking too long parking the car.
Upon entering, you were directed to the accident and emergency unit and were told to wait in the child’s waiting room. You got some funny stares from people, likely because you and Mama were dressed in matching “Jenni hermoso” Barcelona jerseys and Mami was wearing her Barça tracksuit.
“Erm hi could me and my brother maybe have a picture with you two?” Asked a timid girl that looked to be around 7 or 8.
“Of course!” Smiled Jenni taking the phone and positioning it to snap a selfie of the four of them, whilst you played with the blocks on the floor.
“Thank you so much!!” Grinned the girl.
“No problem” replied Jenni
“y/n putellas-hermoso” voiced a nurse from a nearby room, signalling that it was your turn to go in.
The nurse was pretty, she had long ginger hair and hazel coloured eyes that reminded you of Mama. She smiled at you, constantly asking if what she was doing was okay as she poked and prodded your arm. You yelped in pain couple of times, which lead her to the decision that you needed an X-ray.
You walked hand in hand with Mama and Mami to the next waiting room outside the X-ray. Mama clutched her belly in discomfort which caused Mami to worry more than she already was. You decided that you really didn’t like hospitals.
“¿Estás bien amor?” questioned Jenni
“Si just baby kicking around in there” she half smiled, half winced.
“And you bebita are you okay?” Asked Jenni looking down at you.
“I’m scared of the x-Ray machine are you coming with me?”
“Yes of course bebé!”
Around 20 minutes passed, you were playing candy crush on Alexia’s phone, Jenni was looking through a home magazine and Alexia was biting her nails anxiously.
“Stop stressing Alé it’s bad for for the baby” urged Jenni
“Wow thanks Jenni, all my stresses are gone from you saying that!” She snapped, rolling her eyes.
“Y/n Putellas-Hermoso?”
The three of you stood up to follow the new nurse, this nurse was different. She was an older lady and she had raggedy teeth and a mean glare. You didn’t like her she was scary.
Still you followed her, clutching onto Mama’s sleeve as you did. You reached the door to the X-ray area, it looked like a dungeon, your stomach felt bubbly and your hands felt warm.
“Now, it says on my records that you’re pregnant Mrs Putellas?” the scary nurse demanded.
“Erm yes?” Alexia replied, confused.
“Well radiation exposure from x-rays can be damaging to a foetus’ development so we have to ask you to stay out here” she gestured to a set of chairs. “However y/n is under 5, we need someone to oversee her x-Ray so you’ll have to accompany her” she signalled to Jenni.
“Yes okay that’s fine” assured Jenni
“Okay I’ll just get the details from the doctor and the we can begin, I’ll be just a minute” and with that she left.
“Mama why can’t you go with me too?” You huffed in annoyance.
“Because it is bad for the baby for me to go in there pequeña” explained Alexia.
“But I’m your baby too and it’s bad for me if you stay outside!” You demanded
“Hey it’ll be okay Mami is going in with you!” Alexia assured, making concerned eye contact with Jenni.
“You promised you wouldn’t love baby more than me and you already do!” you pouted, crossing your arms.
“Oh no bebita that’s not-“ she was cut off before she could finish.
“All ready?” Asked the nurse
“Si she is” spoke Jenni
——
The X-ray showed that you had in fact, broken your arm. Mama looked stressed when you came out of the X-ray. Mami filled her in on what the doctor had said about your arm. Mama fussed over you, apologising for it happening and trying to reassure you that she loved you so much. You however, chose to ignore her and took to fiddling with the makeshift cast you’d been given.
A pained expression overtook Alexia, her eyes were tearful (the hormones making her more emotional). She looked at Jenni with a pleading expression, to which Jenni sighed and spoke to you.
“Bebita, I promise you me and Mama don’t love the baby more than you, we love you both so much! Mama only couldn’t go in the X-ray room because the special machine in there could hurt her and the baby. We don’t want Mama or baby to be hurt do we?” Jenni rambled, crouching down to your level.
You thought about it for a second. You didn’t like the idea of the new baby taking your Mama and Mami away but you didn’t want it to be hurt and you certainly didn’t want your Mama to be hurt.
“I understand Mami” you said looking at your feet. “Sorry for shouting Mama and sorry for making baby hurt” you frowned.
“It’s alright bebé but you didn’t make baby hurt what do you mean?”
“Mami says ‘stress is bad for baby’ and you stress because of me.” you sulked
“I was stressed yes but I am always going to stress y/n and baby is just fine, come here baby’s kicking” she beckoned you over, placing your small, cast-free hand on her swollen stomach.
You felt a small poke from under her skin, your mouth was agape. Jenni and Alexia shared a smile at your reaction to the kicking.
“It’s a baby brother!” You declared
“What do you mean?” Asked Jenni
“I think it’s a baby brother!” You repeated
“Well we’ll see pretty soon pequeña” laughed Jenni.
——
And sure enough, when baby was born, he was indeed a baby brother.
~~~~
Thank you for reading! My other works are found here ✨
452 notes · View notes
fuubutsushi · 11 months
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@al-hazen asked : "You came at a good time. Just half a year ago, Sumeru was a hostile place to patrons of the arts. Thankfully, it's no longer true."
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"I see... how unfortunate it is, to think of such a beautiful region being deprived of the many wonders arts can bring..." Even when such a thing may seem so small and meaningless to some, he understands the deprivation of such freedom and its many implications and ramifications. To be so willing to silence anything and everything in the pursue of nothing but knowledge at its highest, it is the greatest foolishness a person can accomplish.
"Well, it is a great relief to know such wrongdoings are being righted now, it would have been a great shame to have my first real visit be soured by being forced into hiding once again, as brief and small as it might have been." No need to concern himself with the various what ifs and the consequences of a past finally laid to rest, now. And so he lets himself breathe a little in relief, now confirming there is nothing to fret over beyond the usual travelling concerns of shelter and safety. Perhaps he'd be allowed a smooth journey, for once.
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"Ah, but it is quite troublesome to get around without knowing where I could go... I wouldn't want to get lost in a place so foreign to me. Is there, perhaps, anyone I could trouble to assist me as a guide of sorts? Someone that may have the time for such a humble traveler and wouldn't mind not being available here in the city for a while?" A little nudge with words, all while smiling so peacefully. He knows what he's doing.
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homeofthepeculiar · 1 month
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Over the Garden Wall - Chapter Three
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Chapter Three - Never is a Promise
A.N.: heyyyy this one is a roller coaster and a bit longer than normal
Title is from a Fiona Apple song, if you got that, then I love you. If not, go listen to it and cry with me.
Benedict Bridgerton Masterlist
Series Masterlist
Warnings: period accurate medical practices; panic attack/fit; intentional isolation; angst; intrusive thoughts
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Princess!Reader
Word Count: 6.0k
As always, 18+ Minors DNI!
Y/N found herself in the yellow drawing room, staring up at the crack in the ceiling. The sunlight blazed in and reflected off of the atrociously large chandelier. She sat back, her arms crossed over her stomach as she kicked her legs back and forth. She blew out a huff of air, sending a piece of her hair flying up to only fly down again.
“Y/N,” her mother hissed. So she sighed and sat up once again. 
The door opened shortly after and Brimsley walked in, escorting the doctor. He was a rather gaunt looking old man with small spectacles that sat on the edge of his nose. He carried with him a large, leather bag. 
“Your Majesty,” he said with a bow, then turned to the princess. “Your Royal Highness.”
The doctor approached Y/N and set his bag down on the table beside her. “Has Her Royal Highness experienced any fits in the past 24 hours?” he asked. Y/N loathed that. He never spoke directly to her. He always spoke through her mother or Marietta, if the need arose. 
“No,” The Queen said after looking at Marietta, who shook her head.
The doctor hummed and bent down in front of the princess. He raised a finger and moved it side to side. She knew the drill by now. She followed his finger to the right, then to the left, then up, then down, then diagonally, and so on and so forth. 
He stood to his full height again. “We must test Her Royal Highness’ cognition.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his bag and handed it to Y/N. She sighed and held it up to her face, prepared to recite it. 
“As I went in the garden, I saw five brave maids sitting on five broad beds, braiding broad braids. I said to these five brave maids, sitting on five broad beds, braiding broad braids, ‘Braid broad braids, brave maids.’”
It continued on until she had read five different tongue twisters and two rather boring soliloquies by Shakespeare. Y/N saw a rather sharp object in the doctor’s bag and wondered if she could steal it and stab herself in the eye to get away from the mundane task. That was an overreaction, she knew that. 
Next, she was handed a piece of sheet music and sent over to the pianoforte. To her, it was clinical. She was supposed to be tutored by that pianist, Mozart, when she was younger, but he up and died when she was three so they had to settle for that new German one…Beethoven. He had been rather rude to Y/N. He slapped a conductor baton at her fingers every time she missed a note. Well, it worked out, considering that she rarely missed a note anymore. 
Still, she played with no feeling. It was analytical, clinical, and perfect. She stared out of the window as her fingers glided along the keys. When she finished the piece, she stayed sitting there, waiting for the doctor’s assessment. She looked over to see him writing something down. 
He nodded, placed his paper back into his bag, and turned to The Queen. “Her Royal Highness is in exceptional health, Your Majesty. Responsive and highly cognitive with no strain on her motor skills. Still, if the fits continue, might I suggest Balm of Gilead. I have brought a bottle with me here.” He pulled out a bottle made of green glass and handed it over to Brimsley. “It is known to treat nervous illness,” he said. 
Y/N held back her eye roll. Nervous illness, what exactly was that supposed to mean?
The Queen looked at Brimsley, who nodded. “Thank you, Doctor. I shall see you out.” He waited for the doctor to pack up his things and together, the two left the room, leaving Y/N alone with her mother and Marietta. 
“A moment alone with the princess,” her mother commented. Marietta bowed and exited the room, closing the doors behind her. 
Queen Charlotte stood and rounded the pianoforte. “You play so beautifully,” she commented. Y/N felt her jaw twitch, but she nodded in thanks. “The doctor seems to believe that your condition is improving.”
“He said that I was in good health, Mother,” Y/N said. “Not that I was improving. You know, as well as I, that there is no cure for this.”
Her mother placed a hand on the pianoforte and sighed. “You have more at your disposal than your father did at your age,” she revealed. “He was only a bit younger than you when we married. The doctor that his mother…” Queen Charlotte seemed overcome with emotion, but she swallowed it down. “The doctor he was assigned performed heinous and radical tests that, in my mind, worsened your father’s condition. That will not be the case for you, Y/N.”
“You believe I can get better?” she wondered with wide eyes.
“I believe you can manage it,” her mother responded.
“Does that mean that…one day…I’ll be able to leave?” she wondered, standing from the stool. Queen Charlotte’s eyes fell. 
“Perhaps,” she responded in a strained voice. “If that is what you wish.”
“Oh, Mother,” Y/N said with a wide smile. She restrained herself from hugging her mother, knowing the woman would be rather against it. “I wish to fall in love one day. Like you and Father.” Little did her mother know, she was already well on her way to falling in love. 
Her mother’s eyes fell into that familiar look of devastation. She simply nodded. “You should rest.”
Y/N nodded and walked out of the room. She closed the door behind her and Queen Charlotte was glad that she had. For the second the door closed, she covered her mouth to stifle a sob. The Queen allowed herself only one moment of weakness, only one moment of devastation for her daughter, only one moment of devastation for thoughts of the future, before she swallowed it down, straightened her back, and made her way out of the room. 
----------
That night was the first ball of the season. The Danbury Ball. Y/N had her case ready as she entered her mother’s room. The Queen was getting ready, her countless lady’s maids fluttering around her to drape her in gilded fabrics. 
“Mother,” the princess called out from the door. Her mother sucked in a breath as her corset was tightened and tied. She turned to her daughter and urged her inside. Y/N walked in and sat at the vanity. “I was wondering if…” she started. The Queen sighed, already knowing where this was going. Y/N pulled out a piece of paper. “I have written down a few reasons as to why you should allow me to accompany you to the Danbury Ball.”
Queen Charlotte actually chuckled at that, but she nodded. She stepped into her shoes and shooed the lady’s maids out of the room. She stood, waiting for Y/N to continue.
She cleared her throat and started to read from the list. “One, I have not had a fit in over twenty-four hours. Two, the doctor has given me a clean bill of health. Three, I have taken the prescribed three drops of Balm of Gilead. Fourth, Marietta can accompany me. She knows the signs and will be able to pull me away should anything happen. Five, I am desperate to see the people of the ton.” She set the paper down and looked up at her mother with hopeful eyes. 
“Y/N,” Queen Charlotte sighed. Her daughter sighed as well, knowing the direction in which the conversation was heading. “You have no experience in situations such as these. You become overwhelmed by loud noises and tight spaces. That is what a ball is.” She saw the crestfallen look on her daughter’s face. “Perhaps,”  she began, hesitantly. “At the ball I host, you may watch from the balcony.”
Y/N smiled widely and stood from her seat. “Thank you, Mother.”
“Only if you feel well enough,” The Queen said. “No issues within forty eight hours of the ball.”
“I understand,” she said. This time, she couldn’t hold herself back from hugging her mother. “Thank you.” She pulled away, seeing the surprised look on her mother’s face. “You look beautiful, Mother.”
Queen Charlotte patted her daughter’s cheek. “Off to dinner with you.”
----------
As Y/N walked to the stateroom, she was overcome with excitement. She had to tell Marietta as soon as possible. They had to plan an outfit for her. And practice dances just in case she was given the chance to actually join the festivities. 
Her heart started to race as she neared the stateroom, but she couldn’t stop the smile on her face. She took a deep breath, feeling her hands start to shake. She stopped in the middle of the ornate hallway. The decor was so loud. The walls were filled with paintings. The carpet beneath her feet was deep red and covered in designs that seemed to float around the longer Y/N looked at them. 
She stumbled over to the wall to hold herself up. Her breathing started to grow rapidly. 
“M-Mercury, V-Venus…” She sighed and slid down the wall. She wrung her hands together, trying to stop the shaking. “E-Earth,” she said, her voice horse and trembling.
“Princess Y/N!” a voice called out from the far end of the hallway. Y/N tried to turn towards the sound, but the world around her was spinning. Everything felt like she was underwater. The walls seemed to close in and grow larger all at once. “Y/N,” Marietta said as she knelt in front of the girl. She grabbed the princess' hands and squeezed them periodically. “Come back to me.”
“M-Mars, J-Jupiter…S-Saturn…U-U-Uranus. Mercury.”
Marietta nodded along with her. “Look at me,” she said in a sweet voice. “You are alright. We are in Buckingham House.”
“D-Don’t tell Mother,” she said when feeling started to return to her. The world stopped spinning, but the fog was still there. “Please.”
Marietta seemed conflicted. “Come, let us get you off the ground.” She helped Y/N to her feet, catching her when she stumbled slightly. She ushered her through the halls and into her bedroom. Marietta grabbed a brown-tinted glass bottle and Y/N darted away, stumbling into one of the posters of her bed. 
“No,” she said. “N-No, please.”
“Princess,” Marietta sighed. “This will help your nerves.”
“The Balm of Gilead helps just fine and it does not make me lose my faculties like that does.” 
Marietta sighed and set the bottle back on the desk. She ushered Y/N into the armchair overlooking the front of the castle. “Are you feeling better now?” she wondered.
“Yes,” Y/N muttered. She kept her eye on the sky outside. Movement in the corner made her turn. Her mother’s carriage was departing for Lady Danbury’s ball. “Please do not tell Mother.”
Marietta’s brow furrowed. “Might I ask why? You know that she would like to know.”
“Mother has…agreed to allow me to attend her ball later this week. But only if I experience no problems within the forty-eight hours before.” Y/N sighed and placed her hands in her lap. There were still some slight tremors, but they had calmed immensely. “She believes that I can get better, Marietta. I want so badly for it to be true. I was overcome with excitement. That is all.”
Marietta gave her a slight smile and a nod. “Are you well enough to sit for dinner? You know the footmen gossip to Brimsley. It is bound to get back to your mother if you sequester yourself in here all night.”
Y/N gave a slight smile and a nod. Even though she did not want to need it, she took Marietta’s hand and let herself be led into the stateroom. 
Back to normal. She sat in the large room, at the large table, all of the other chairs empty. Large bouquets of flowers sat on the table as well as serving trays holding more food than she could ever eat in one sitting. 
Still, Y/N did. 
The food tasted like straw in the quiet room. The footmen stood around, their backs straight, looking straight ahead. Looking at nothing. 
The silence was so loud. 
----------
Benedict stood in the crowded and flower-filled conservatory at Lady Danbury’s estate. Couples danced all around him. Women simpered at his brother. Eloise stood beside him, a glass of lemonade in her hand, searching around. No doubt, for Penelope.
“Why don’t you ever dance, Benedict?” Eloise wondered.
Benedict looked at her, a suspicious look in his eyes. “Why are you suddenly so interested in my habits, Eloise?”
“I am simply making polite conversation!” Eloise replied with a scoff. 
“Oh, look,” Benedict said. “I believe The Marquis of Ashdown is coming this way. He seems quite taken with you, Eloise. I hope you do not mind changing his nappies.”
Eloise made a sound of terror and darted off to the other side of the room, leaving Benedict alone to chuckle into his glass of lemonade. He wished it was something stronger. He pulled out his pocket watch, checking the time. He only hoped he would be able to leave in time to meet Y/N. 
There was no set schedule of course, it just seemed that they had a tendency to find each other at the right time. As he looked down at his watch, his mother sidled up beside him. “Benedict,” she said with that practiced smile of hers. “Is there somewhere else you must be?”
“No, of course not, Mother,” he responded, taking another sip of his lemonade.
“It is only that you have seemed quite distracted of late.”
“Have I?” he wondered with an innocent look.
Violet did not buy it one bit. She chuckled and grabbed his arm. “Benedict, I know all eyes are on Anthony this season, that does not mean that you cannot look for a wife for yourself.”
“I have no interest in that, Mother,” he responded. “You know I would much rather focus on my art and leave those duties to Anthony.”
“Marriage is not a duty, Benedict.”
“Have you told that to Anthony?” he wondered as he looked across the room. Anthony twirled yet another girl around the dancefloor who could not stop stepping on his toes. He shot one look at Benedict that, to anyone else would seem inconsequential, but Benedict knew to be a cry for help.
“Yes, well,” Violet sighed. “You know your brother.”
“I do,” Benedict nodded. He looked over at his mother, watching as she looked around the room, making sure she had eyes on all of her children. 
“You should find someone to dance with tonight, Benedict. It might do well to get yourself out there,” she said.
Benedict sighed. “I do not know, Mother,” he replied. “I have seen the girls and women of the ton. None of them…intrigue me.”
“Oh?” she chuckled. “Have you had many conversations with them?” she countered.
Benedict sighed again. “I see your point.”
“Of course, you do.” She patted Benedict’s arm. “Only if you wish.” The doors opened and The Queen entered. “Oh, there she is,” Violet said. “If you do not dance with someone tonight then assure me you will dance with someone at the Queen’s Ball later this week?”
Benedict’s jaw clenched, but he nodded. “If I find someone intriguing.”
“Well, alright,” she replied, knowing that was the best she would get from her son. She walked away and made her way over to a group of Mamas that were watching Anthony with hunger, no doubt determined to make a match. 
Benedict’s eyes fell to The Queen. 
He had never given much thought to her before. She was prickly and rash and downright terrifying at times. Of course, she was The Queen. He watched the way she held herself. The way she flicked her hands. The way she smirked like she knew something he never would.
He furrowed his brow and looked away. He glanced once more at his pocket watch, his foot starting to tap with restless excitement. 
----------
Y/N waited for the halls of Buckingham House to quiet before she grabbed her cloak and gloves. She checked in both directions before sneaking around the corners. She knew that the footman who paced her wing would be near the ballroom, so she made sure to avoid that area. 
The fresh air filled her and she felt renewed. As she made her way through the familiar hedges with a smile on her face. The smile dropped when she saw Marietta standing near the garden wall. 
“Have you come to join me again?” Y/N asked nervously.
“No,” Marietta said. “Your Royal Highness, I must insist that you stay here tonight.”
“You insist?” she scoffed. 
“You were inconsolable only two hours ago,” Marietta argued. “Any such excitement or overstimulation could send you into yet another fit. You know this.”
“Of course, I do,” Y/N responded, arms crossed. “Marietta, please. I promise to come back within the hour.”
“No,” Marietta said, shaking her head. “Princess Y/N, it is too dangerous tonight. Think of your health. Think of your safety.”
“The doctor told me just today that I was alright,” the princess said. Marietta simply leveled her with a look that caused Y/N to roll her eyes. She felt tears stinging them and she wiped them away before they could fall. 
“He will be there tomorrow,” Marietta reassured her.
“What if he is not?” Y/N said, the tears finally falling. “What if he believes that I no longer wish to see him? I told him just last night that—” she cut herself off with a sharp intake of breath.
“What did you tell him?” Marietta wondered cautiously.
“That we could never…never be together. I told him that he would find someone else to marry one day. And it broke my heart to say, Marietta, but it is true. Even if I somehow get fixed, Mother will never allow it.”
“It is not a matter of getting fixed, Princess,” Marietta said as she carefully approached Y/N. “You are not broken.”
Y/N choked on a sob. She looked up at the sky, seeing the moon shining bright. “Is love always like this? Is this even love?” She looked down at Marietta who had that devastated look on her face. Y/N wished to never see that look on anyone ever again. 
“I do not know,” Marietta explained. “I did watch the two of you together,” she revealed. “He looks at you the way you look at the moon.”
“Dauntingly, then,” Y/N said. 
“With awe,” Marietta corrected. “As though it is something you will never understand yet no less beautiful.”
“You have a surprising way with words,” Y/N said with a watery laugh. 
Marietta chuckled as well. “Come, Your Royal Highness. Let us get you inside before you catch a chill.”
“It is the middle of summer, Marietta,” Y/N responded, but she followed her lady’s maid inside nonetheless. Just before the door closed, she took one more look at the moon. Perhaps Marietta had been right. 
The moon was always there, but always just out of reach. 
----------
Benedict paced around under the lamp post. He had finally found a way out of the ball by feigning exhaustion. His mother, of course, did not believe him, but she did not say anything about it. Her attentions were focused on Anthony and Benedict was content to leave them that way. 
He checked his pocket watch over and over again to find that only minutes had passed. There was something in his chest that told him Y/N would not be coming. He had no idea why or what the reasoning was. 
He hoped he had not scared her away the night before with his words. He had been so brazen and so honest. Though, she did not seem deterred. She seemed…afraid. 
He so badly wanted to see her. He wanted to hold her hand once more, to soothe the tremors that seemed to plague her. He wanted to know the reasoning behind them. He wanted to know everything about her. 
He wanted to see her in the light of day, not illuminated by the bitter flames of the now too-familiar lamp post. 
Benedict had no idea how long he stayed there. He went from sitting on the bench to pacing to sitting once more. He kept a watchful eye around him at all times, wondering if she had come but was too scared to speak, for some reason. 
She never came. 
Hours later, when exhaustion finally hit him, Benedict rose and made his way home. He meandered through the street, his mind racing. He had never been so taken with someone in his life, it was almost suffocating. It led his mind to strange places. 
As he made his way into his room, he was confronted by the object of his affections. Paintings and sketches strewn out around the room. None of them completed. Some lazy sketches of the lamp post. All sitting around. All taunting him. 
He sat down on his bed and ran his hands over his face. 
“Get it together,” he whispered to himself. 
He decided that, no matter what, he would return the next night and the next and the next, hoping that she would be there.
----------
Y/N did not leave at all for the next few days. She had asked Marietta to lock her in her room and only open the door to bring her meals. She spent most of her time in the cupboard. 
It was not as though she didn’t want to see Benedict. She wanted to so much that it hurt her. She was simply afraid. Though, fear such as that was rarely simple. Spending all that time alone caused her to overthink, something that she did more often than not. 
Though, before, she rarely had opportunities to overthink, considering that she was never given the chance to speak to others outside of Marietta, her mother, and occasionally, her father. 
And, simply put, she did not want to dissuade her mother from allowing her to attend the ball. She knew that there would be rules and stipulations and she promised to abide by them. Just the thought of seeing all of the beautiful women in their beautiful gowns and the stately men sent a thrill down her spine. 
The lock clicked and the door opened. Y/N, sitting on her armchair, did not acknowledge the person, thinking that it was Marietta. It was not. She turned her head as her mother strode in. She watched as The Queen took in the state of the room. 
Paintings covered every inch of the wall. Those that were not covered were painted on themselves. Her desk was covered with sketches and charcoals and paints. Her bookshelves were overflowing. 
Her mother pursed her lips, finally looking at her daughter. She walked over and cautiously took the seat across from Y/N. 
“The ball is tonight,” she stated plainly. 
“Yes,” the princess nodded. She had a smile on her face, though it was hesitant. She feared that her mother would go back on her promise. That would not be outside the realm of possibilities. 
The Queen took a deep breath. “You may attend—” Y/N started to speak, but her mother interjected. “However,” she continued. “It is imperative that you are not seen. Do you understand me?” The princess nodded. “You must stay on the balcony. Marietta will remain there with you should you feel the need to retire with haste.” 
“Thank you, Mother. I promise, I will not cause a scene.”
“Yes,” she nodded. “You have been doing well. Is the Balm of Gilead helping?”
Y/N did not know how to respond. Truthfully, she hadn’t experienced a fit for days, not since she was overcome with excitement. Although, that might have been due to the fact that she had sequestered herself. “I believe it is,” she finally responded. Which was the truth, in a way. She had been taking the drops as prescribed—three in the morning, three in the afternoon, and four at night. 
“Good,” her mother said with a slight smile. She looked toward the door and cleared her throat. “You may come in.” Y/N looked surprised as her mother’s own lady’s maids fluttered into the room. One of them carried a dress with her. It was of similar style to what her mother usually wore in a deep blue color with silver accents. “I believe you need a new dress,” her mother commented. 
Y/N stood and walked over to the lady’s maid who carried the dress. She ran her hands over the fabric, terrified of ruining it. “Thank you, Mother,” she said in a shaky voice.
Noticing this, The Queen stood and approached her daughter. She was glad, but also dismayed, to find that the shakiness came from the tears falling from her daughter's face.
“I am simply happy,” Y/N said, wiping her eyes. 
The Queen nodded. “Marietta will come in to help you prepare shortly. Remember, do not be seen.”
She smiled and grabbed the dress as her mother and her lady’s maids left the room. She ran over to her mirror and held the dress up. With a laugh of glee, she spun around, the dress twirling around her. 
The door opened only minutes later and Marietta walked in, a smile on her face. “I see that you like the dress.”
“Oh, isn’t it wonderful?” Y/N asked with a smile.
“It is,” Marietta commented. “It is also a terror to get into. Come, we do not have long until the ball starts and I assume you should not like to miss a second of it.”
The dress was laid flat across her bed while Marietta worked on her hair. She was, at least, grateful that she did not have to wear a large white wig like her mother and her ladies in waiting did. They were god-awful and much too heavy. 
“Tell me what to expect,” Y/N said, hoping that it would ease her worries a bit. She had started to grow anxious so she took deep breaths and listened to Marietta’s words.
“Every member of the ton will be here. Well, every member in good standing. I do not yet know if anyone has gotten on the bad side of Her Majesty yet.”
“Aside from Lady Whistledown,” Y/N commented.
Marietta laughed. “Yes, of course, aside from her. However, there is no doubt that she will be here tonight.”
Y/N turned, her eyes wide. “Shall we make a game of it, Marietta? What if we discover who Lady Whistledown is tonight?”
Marietta moved Y/N's head back around to face the mirror. “People have been theorizing since last season,” she stated. “They know every member of the ton. She is just too…elusive.”
“Perhaps, they need a fresh pair of eyes,” Y/N said. She gazed at herself in the mirror, watching as Marietta perfectly placed every single hair. It had been a very long time since she had been done up to these standards. At least ten years, if not longer. 
“Perhaps,” Marietta said. She pulled out some powder and spread it across Y/N's face. “I took a look at the invitations before they were sent out,” she revealed. “The Bridgertons received one.” Y/N's face split into a wide grin. “You know you cannot see him tonight.”
“No, he cannot see me. I, however, will spend the entire night looking at him and committing him to memory.”
“Oh, have you not done that yet?” Marietta asked sarcastically. “I thought the way you were gazing into each other’s eyes the other night would have done that for you.”
Y/N rolled her eyes but a smile formed on her lips. 
Getting on the dress was a process like Marietta had said. Y/N finally understood why her mother had so many lady’s maids. There were layers upon layers and a corset that dug into her waist. But, when it all was done, it was decidedly worth it.
“I like the blue,” Y/N said. “It reminds me of the night’s sky.”
“The silver is like the stars,” Marietta commented. “Your mother chose it for a reason.” She stepped in between Y/N and the mirror to make sure that every pin was in place. “She wishes the best for you. Even if she has an…interesting way of showing it.”
There was a knock on the door then. “Come in,” Y/N called out. 
Brimsley opened the door and held it wide for The Queen to step through. “Oh,” her mother said. “Yes, you look beautiful.”
Y/N turned around and ran her hands down the fabric. “I love it. Thank you, Mother.”
The Queen nodded. “I simply came to check on you before the guests start to arrive.��
They shared a small smile. It was rare that the two of them shared the same happiness. More often than not, Y/N was angry and exhausted and her mother was guilty and devastated. This, however, was a welcome change. 
Y/N hoped that things would stay this way. 
----------
She hid in the balcony with Marietta, watching as all of the guests arrived. There was a group of redheaded women all wearing bright yellow dresses.
“The Featheringtons,” Marietta explained. “The three daughters debuted last season. No marriages yet. However, there is hope that one of them will secure a husband before the season is out.”
People had already begun dancing as the music swelled. Y/N searched every face but had yet to find Benedict. Another family approached the Queen. They all wore silver dresses that sparkled in the light. They were escorted by an older woman. Y/N knew her to be Lady Danbury, she was the closest thing her mother had to a friend. If you didn’t count Brimsley which, most of the time, Y/N did not. 
“Oh, they are beautiful,” the princess commented.
“Lady Mary and her two daughters, Edwina and Kate. The eldest is apparently Lady Mary’s deceased husband’s from another marriage.”
“Scandal,” Y/N gasped.
Marietta nodded. “Everyone in the ton has eyes on Edwina for the diamond of the season.”
Y/N watched as her mother spoke in calculated words to the three women standing before her. The three women left, leaving Lady Danbury to speak to The Queen. 
“She has always had Mother’s ear,” Y/N commented. “Well, as much as anyone can. I used to watch them out in the garden when I was younger. They would talk for hours.”
“Not much has changed then,” Marietta commented. “Though, Lady Danbury has grown rather reclusive with age.”
“Who is that?” Y/N wondered, pointing at a tall blonde woman with a slender neck.
Marietta shuddered. “Cressida Cowper. A truly odious woman if Lady Whistledown is to be believed. I have met someone that once worked for her family. They are…power-hungry.”
“That is a nice way of putting it,” Y/N said.
“Yes, quite,” Marietta agreed. “However, there are many people in the ton that believe—” Marietta continued to speak, but all of the sound faded out of the room as Benedict walked in. He was speaking in hushed tones to another man. Anthony, his brother, Y/N presumed. There were two other women with him as well. Perhaps his mother and sister. 
“Your Royal Highness?” Marietta said, alerting her. Y/N turned to see Marietta with a rather smug smirk on her face. 
The princess rolled her eyes and looked back as Benedict and his family approached The Queen. “I wonder if she likes him,” Y/N said.
“I believe Her Majesty rarely concerns herself with the men of the ton unless a marriage is involved,” Marietta responded. 
“Oh, wait,” Y/N gasped. “Is…Mother is laughing? Benedict’s sister made her laugh.”
“Miracles do happen,” Marietta responded.
Y/N couldn’t help the small chuckle that left her lips. “This is quite fun.” Her eyes left Benedict for only a moment to graze over the rest of the crowd. “That cow woman is speaking with Benedict’s sister. What is her name again?”
“Cressida Cowper.”
“No, no, the sister.”
“Eloise,” Marietta responded. “They are all named in the order of the alphabet. Easy to remember when there are so many. Anthony, Benedict, Colin, Daphne, Eloise, Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinth.”
“Good Lord, Marietta,” Y/N gasped. “You are a veritable well of knowledge and gossip. Why have we not done this before?”
“I am a lady’s maid, Your Royal Highness,” Marietta said. “We are never seen and never heard, but we know all.”
“Perhaps Lady Whistledown is a lady’s maid,” Y/N exclaimed. 
“Oh, a lady’s maid would not have the time,” Marietta responded. 
Y/N soon found Benedict again as he stood by the lemonade with his brother. “He is so handsome, is he not?” she wondered with a wistful sigh. Marietta simply chuckled, causing Y/N to level her an affronted look. “What?”
“I have never seen you like this before,” she responded.
“Well, I have never had a reason,” Y/N said. She looked across the room, gazing at every man. “Yes, definitely the most handsome of the lot, I would say.”
“Oh, you would?” Marietta goaded.
“Do you disagree?”
“I think his older brother has some allure.”
Y/N looked over at Anthony and shrugged. “Perhaps. Well, then, you can fantasize about an unrealistic future with Anthony and I shall do the same with Benedict. We can wallow in grief together later.”
“Do you really believe it is so unrealistic?” Marietta wondered.
“Is it not?” Y/N asked in response. She gripped the railing of the balcony, careful to stay hidden. 
“I wish it for you.”
“If wishes were horses, beggars would ride,” was her reply. Her eyes stayed glued to Benedict for as long as they could, only parting when he would go to the other room. He soon came back, however, when the trumpets started.
“It’s time,” Marietta whispered.
They listened in closely as The Queen started her announcement. “Your presence is noted, and your Queen, most appreciative. Allow it to now be my honor to present to you, the season’s diamond…” Everyone looked around, waiting in silence. “Miss Edwina Sharms.”
Y/N had to stop herself from clapping in excitement. “Oh, this is thrilling. Much better than the opera Mother made us attend when I was younger. However, now I think I should like to revisit my opinion of the opera. Perhaps, I can convince Mother to take me next time.”
“Perhaps,” Marietta said with a small smile. “Oh,” she said and pulled Y/N back. 
“What? What is it?” Y/N wondered.
“We must depart immediately,” Marietta said, shoving the princess down the hallway. They heard rapid footsteps. Marietta shoved Y/N around the corner. Y/N hissed at her lady’s maid but was silenced with a look.
“Oh,” a deep voice said. 
“Mr. Bridgerton,” Marietta said with a curtsy. “Is there something I can help you find?”
“I…” he began. “I thought I…saw someone.” His face fell. “My mistake. Apologies.”
“Of course, Mr. Bridgerton,” Marietta said, before curtsying once more and turning around the corner. She grabbed Y/N who was trying with all her might to stick her head around the corner to get one look. 
She did. 
She saw his retreating back, his hand running through his hair. Marietta tugged on her arm and pulled her away.
“He saw me?” Y/N wondered.
“It would appear so,” Marietta said, her jaw clenched.
“You will not tell Mother, will you?” Y/N asked as they neared her bedroom. 
“Of course not,” Marietta responded. 
They walked into Y/N's bedroom and the princess immediately fell onto the bed, a huff of breath escaping her. She sat up on her elbows and looked at Marietta who had already knelt on the ground to remove her shoes. “What did he look like?” Y/N wondered.
Marietta quirked a brow. “You stared at him all night.”
“Yes, but…” Y/N wondered. “When he saw me…what did he look like?”
Marietta smiled and set down the princess' shoes. “Like he had discovered the moon.”
--------------------
A.N: Poor Benedict, honestly.
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