#I miss my ride or die sisters SO MUCH

[mountainsandmayhem]

You're a Brat, Little Dove

Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You play with Joel at your 25 year high school reunion to get exactly what you want. CW: Dom!Joel, Sub/Dom, blowjob, throat fucking, gagging, nipple play, Brat!Tamer, unprotected p in v (they’re in a long-term relationship), oral (f and m receiving), anal play very briefly, pet names, cream pie kink, praise kink, degradation if you squint, denial and edging, NO AGE GAP (Joel and reader are in their 40’s)  A/N: I am absolutely BLOWN AWAY by the love that You're Mine and Stay Still have gotten. Truly, from the bottom of my cold, dead heart I really appreciate your likes, comments and reblogs. Hopefully you enjoy this one, as well. Dividers and banners by @saradika-graphics Word Count: 5.6k

Dress. Check. 

Nude heels. Check. 

2 daytime outfits.  Check. 

Drive home clothes. Check. 

Make up bag. Check.

Stop worrying so much. You’re not even leaving the country, you can buy what you forgot.

“You ok?” Joel asks as he wraps his arms around you from behind.

“Just the usual pre-travel anxieties.” You say, leaning into his warmth. Your arms unconsciously cross over his, hands resting on his forearms. 

“We’re not leaving the country, you can buy whatever you forgot,” you smile to yourself at how well he knows you as his lips press lightly to your temple. “Remember when I had to go out of town at the last minute before our Disneyland trip and you packed for all of us?”

“Mmhmmm,” you say. The memories come flooding in of those two little girls; one dressed as a princess from head to toe and the other refusing to take off her Darth Vader helmet. The latter was far braver on the “scary rides”, and held her sister's hand until they were both giggling and screaming with delight.

“You didn’t miss a single thing - for any of us. Including the nightlight that Sarah couldn’t be without and the granola bars that Ellie claimed were the only things she could have for breakfast.” 

You turn your head and gently press your lips to his. This is the kind of love that people write about. Supportive. Caring. Complete and unwavering trust. Each person is 100% in for the other, willingly giving when the other needs to take, and never keeping score. You don’t judge the other for any sort of anxiety they might be having or help they might be needing. Partners. Through and through. 

A noise from the kitchen brings you back and you break the kiss. “What is that incessant beeping?” 

“That’s your phone,” he laughs while pulling out of the hug and squeezing your sides. “It’s been going off all morning. Someone is messaging you on Facebook.” 

You squirm free of his wandering hands and go to brush your teeth. When you come back out to the kitchen he’s scrolling through the messages in your phone. 

“Who is it?” You ask, getting your morning coffee ready. 

Joel throws his head back, laughing loudly as he reads in a mocking voice, “Hi. Long time no talk. I saw your name on the guest list for the reunion this weekend. Can’t wait to catch up. Looks like you’re single. At least based on your profile. Glad to see you got rid of that goon you were dating in your 20s.” 

Your profile is blank, a picture of you holding baby Ellie the day you officially adopted her is the only thing on there, and you have maybe 15 friends. Truthfully, you aren’t even sure why you have it, even in the heyday of Facebook, you weren’t exactly a share-everything-about-yourself-on-the-internet type of girl.

“Oh god,” you laugh. “It’s Zack, isn’t it?” 

Joel wipes away a tear from laughing so hard. “Each sentence is its own message, but I’m a goon?” He slides your phone across the counter to you adding, “Can I punch him again when we see him?” 

Years ago, while visiting your parents, Zack got a little too handsy when you ran into each other at a local pool hall. Joel was and very much still is, a ‘touch her and die’ type of lover. 

You both laugh as you kiss him goodbye and head to work.

On your lunch break, you updated your profile picture to you and Joel with the girls at their high school graduation. Hopefully, Zack will get the message. By 5 pm you’re rushing home to get out the door and drive 5 hours to your old hometown. 

The minute you walk into the reunion you see women’s heads turning to look at Joel. You can’t say you blame them, Joel Miller is the dictionary definition of a DILF! And tonight, in perfectly tailored black pants, a crisp black dress shirt and black tie, his slightly outgrown curls pushed back, and grey scruff perfectly trimmed, he looks hot as sin. And then, just to add insult to an already smoldering hot injury, he recently came to terms with needing glasses for driving at night. Those black frames should be illegal. 

Over the last few days you’ve been sending him articles about spanking and on the drive up had an open and honest communication about what you both wanted out of it. Deep down you’re hoping tonight is your night, you’re tempted to just go back to the hotel and let him do whatever he wants. Instead, the two of you hit the bar to get a drink before finding a table to sit at.

“Who is that lady in the gold sequin dress with the black hair, almost directly behind you?” Joel asks awkwardly, sipping his whiskey.

You glance around the room, trying to not make it obvious when you catch the one person you don’t want around Joel staring right at him. 

“Lucy Garfield.” You say flatly. “She’s the one that slept with Zack seconds after I left for university. I thought they were married but she is eye fucking you so hard.”

“Gross,” he laughs, his nose crinkling up in disgust. He’s so endearing when he’s joking around with you, “Don’t say eye fucking.”

You laugh, “It’s what she’s doing Joel. I wonder how long before she’s over here talking to you.”

You start pushing your chair out from the table and he grabs your leg, “Leave me alone and you’re dead to me”

“Joel,” you giggle and try to push the chair more, “I kinda have to pee though.” 

“Babe, I'm serious. She scares me,” he says with a shudder. “I can feel her looking at me.” 

“Oh, she’s doing more than looking…” you tease, sliding your chair back in.

“Don’t say it.”

He squirms as you lean in to his ear and whisper, “Eye fucking.”

“I hate you.” 

After a few hours of catching up with old friends, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and grab another drink for you and Joel. When you come out of the bathroom Lucy is alone at your table with Joel. You can see the discomfort on his face as she shows him something on his phone. You’re not jealous or worried, but when Zack approaches you at the bar you decide to have a little fun.

“So you didn’t break up with him after all?” He’s leaning back cockily on the bar, arms crossed, eyes locked on Lucy. 

“No,” you laugh while ordering drinks; whiskey neat for Joel and a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon for you. “I never planned to.” 

“I figured. Lucy seems to take a liking to anyone you set your sights on.”

“You would know best, Zack.” You’re still facing the bar, but you see Zack glance quickly in your direction at the dig. “Any advice for poor Joel over there?”

“Don’t leave the best thing that ever happened to you for a gymnast with...” he stops speaking when he looks back to you, seeing you with one eyebrow raised as you sip your wine. “She and I are getting divorced.” 

“I assumed.”

“Oh?”

And that’s when you hear it. Your song with Joel. 

‘I know what you look like in the morning

Your kisses are soft and warm’

Joel looks around the room for you, when he spots you at the bar a mischievous grin crosses your face and you lean in close to Zack. 

“Dance with me?” You whisper, giving him the puppy eyes he never used to say no to. 

‘I can draw you with my eyes closed 

Seen you with nothing on but the radio’

He places a hand on your lower back and leads you to the dance floor before pulling you in close. Huh, you think to yourself, 25 years later and still got it.

You look away from Joel and give Zack a tight lipped smile as the first verse of the song melts into the chorus. 

‘I know the kind of thing that makes you laugh 

The way you tilt your head for a photograph

What other guy knows you like that’

You fight the urge not to look past Zack’s shoulder and over at Joel as Zack’s voice drones on in the distance, telling you about his divorce. 

‘And I can name the first guy you ever kissed’

You can’t help but sneak a glance at Joel. Zack is the first guy you kissed and Joel knows it.

‘I can name the perfume on your wrist’

Joel crosses his arms, staring at you darkly from across the room. Fuck, you think maybe you bit off more than you can chew.

‘What other guy knows you like that’

Joel stands and strides over to you. 

Yes. Got him. He doesn’t look mad, if anything he’s looking at you with dangerous desire in his eyes. Your heart flutters as heat travels between your thighs.

“Babe, we gotta go.” 

Zack starts to protest but you release yourself from his arms and say with a big smile, “It was lovely catching up. Thank you for the dance.” 

As Joel leads you off the dance floor he growls quietly in your ear, “You’ve been a very bad girl, Little Dove.” 

The car ride back to the hotel is silent. Not a word is uttered between either of you, the second the elevator door closes Joel presses you back against the wall.  Towering over you, one of his hands roughly pulls down the right cup of your dress and bra, he pinches your nipple hard between his thumb and pointer finger. 

You gasp out in pain, but he doesn’t say anything, just glares down at you. As the pain morphs into pleasure you squeeze your thighs together, your panties starting to soak through. He releases you when the elevator stops and turns his back to you, you cover your abused nipple back up before you follow him into your room.

“Clothes off and kneel,” he growls, throwing a pillow haphazardly at your feet.

“Joel-I…” you stutter out. He stalks across the room, only the discarded pillow separating you. 

“I said,” he starts harshly. “Clothes off and kneel, Little Dove.”

You swallow the dry lump in your throat while sliding the zipper down the side of your black dress, letting it fall to the ground. A deep, guttural moan escapes Joel as you kick the dress aside and remove your bra and panties. You’re completely bare for him, nothing but your nude heels left. 

“That’s better. Now kneel.” 

You do as he says, getting into his desired position; hands on your lap and eyes aimed at the floor in front of you. He bends, cupping your chin and tilting your face up to meet his gaze. You expect to see his eyes dark and lips tight, instead, you’re met with softness, his chocolate brown eyes boring into you.

“Little Dove,” he starts, his voice just barely above a whisper. “I am going to punish you for being a brat tonight. Everything I plan to do is things we’ve talked about.” 

“Like what?” You ask as your mouth goes impossibly dry.

“No, you don’t get answers tonight. You’re in trouble. Do you remember your safe words?”

You nod, “Yes sir.”

The colour coding system is how Joel prefers to do things. Red if you need to end things, yellow if you need a break or to slow down, and green to keep going.

His thumb caresses your cheek, “That’s my girl.” 

Joel stands abruptly and your gaze follows him. When he looks down at you, his features are no longer soft. His eyes are almost black, eyebrows slightly knit together and jaw clenched. He snaps his fingers and points at the ground and you immediately obey, shifting your gaze back to where he prefers it. He walks across the room, uncuffing the sleeves of his black dress shirt and rolling them up his thick forearms. You hear the unmistakable sound of him removing his tie and his glasses being placed on the table.

“You were a brat tonight, Little Dove,” he says darkly. “Remind me, do I like brats?” 

“No, sir.” It comes out in a nervous squeak.

Joel stares at you for a while and it’s nearly impossible to keep your eyes on the ground. If Joel had to classify himself, he’d say he was a pleasure Dom. He’d rather use pleasure until you’d beg him to stop, but pleasure is earned, and you used that song and your ex-boyfriend to get to him tonight. He saunters back over and pets your head, just as you start to close your eyes and lean into his touch he grips your hair hard and pulls until you’re once again looking up at him. A shocked yelp comes out of you as you make eye contact. 

“I think you did this on purpose because you so badly want me to spank you.”

“N-no, sir.” 

“No? I bet if I reached in between your legs and felt your pretty little pussy she’d be soaked for me right now. Am I right?” 

“Y-yes.” 

“Take out my cock, Little Dove.” 

His grip on your hair doesn’t loosen as you reach up with shaky hands to undo his belt and pants. As you slide his dress pants down his thick thighs you can see him already hard under his tight black boxers. As you lower those, his thick cock springs free, brushing against your face.

“Hands on my thighs,” he barks.

You jump slightly at the harsh tone and move your hands to rest along the sides of his thighs. He moves his free hand to one of yours and taps on your hand 3 times. “You do that if you need to stop. Show me.” 

You tap 3 times on his thigh like he showed you. “Too bad you were such a bad girl tonight. I wanted to please you and not punish you.”

He moves his hand to fist his cock a few times. It brushes your lips as he continues to speak. “Who do you belong to, Little Dove?”

“You sir,” you answer firmly but quietly. 

“That’s right. Open.”

You lick your lips and obey his orders. He lines himself up and slides the tip of his cock in your mouth, pumping his shaft slowly with his hand, the other still locked in your hair. 

“Mine,” he says it like he’s claiming you as he works more of himself into your mouth. You’re surprised how he takes his time, inching in a little before pulling back, letting you swirl your tongue around to get him nice and wet. When he’s finally all the way in, pushing against your gag reflex he groans out, “So…completely…mine.”

You look up at him through your lashes and remind yourself to relax your throat and breathe through your nose, moaning around his cock before he pulls it all the way out. Saliva falls from your mouth and he smirks at you cockily while he fucks himself with his palm, the tip of his leaking dick resting on your tongue. The salty taste of his pre cum sends a fresh wave of arousal to the apex of your thighs, you can feel it gathering on your calves that are tucked underneath you. 

Without warning, Joel starts to fuck your throat. He pushes himself all the way in and you gag around him before he pulls out halfway. He continues this punishing rhythm for a while, muttering darkly about how you’re a bad girl and you deserve to be punished.  

You’re taken aback by how much you fucking love it. Watching him tower above you all big and strong but you know he’s falling apart. He’s becoming putty because of you and your mouth. It’s filthy and slightly degrading, but you realize that you’re the one in control here. You could do this forever and make a mental note to find times to act out more often.  Tears start to run down your cheeks as his thrusts turn sloppy. You know he’s close so you hum around his cock.

“Oh fuuuuck, baby.” He pulls himself out and steps back, strings of saliva falling from his cock and landing on your chin. Your hands hit the ground in front of you as you gasp in a full breath for this first time since he started using your mouth.  The heat between your thighs is starting to become unbearable.

“What did you think was going to happen - huh?” he says in a deep and condescending tone. “That I’d spank you and then make you come?”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You’re not sorry though, you’d do it again just to feel that gush between your thighs when he hits the back of your throat. 

“Only good girls get spankings. So let me make myself very clear.” You straighten your spine and look up at him as he goes back to petting your hair. 

“You are not allowed to cum.” His voice is deep and scratchy, you’re sure he could make a living by narrating erotica, but that voice is yours.

A small whimper escapes you as he continues. “I’m going to continue to use you how I want. If I think you’ve proven yourself to be my good girl, you’ll get that spanking you want so desperately. Understand?” 

He almost purrs as he says good girl and it turns you feral. “Yes, sir.” 

He reaches a hand to you and helps you stand. He gently wipes the tears from your cheeks before kissing the tip of your nose. “Get on the bed.”

As you walk to the bed you bring one leg up to remove your heels. “Leave them on. Hands and knees, Little Dove.”

Fuck, he knows this is your kryptonite. And fuck, you’re back to thinking that maybe you bit off more than you can handle. Joel is predictable about his Sunday plans during football season and nothing else. 

After stripping off his clothes he comes up behind you, rubs the warm tip of his cock through your slit and he lets out a deep moan. Both of you can hear the wetness as he moves from your clit to your ass. “Mmmm - my bad girl clearly liked having me fuck her throat. You’re soaked for me.”

A firm hand pushes down between your shoulder blades and your upper body hits the mattress. at this new angle, everything is bare to him. 

“Mine,” he says again before placing a few long, slow licks from your clit to your ass, swirling and pressing his tongue in all the right places. “So…completely…mine.” 

His tongue teases your clit as he lightly teases your ass with the pad of his thumb.  The heat begins to spread to your spine, the world falls away and all you’re left with is Joel.  Joel and his wonderful and magic tongue.  Joel and his ability to make you cum.  His voice from earlier rings through your cries of pleasure, ‘you are not allowed to cum.’

“I…n-no…” you stutter, squeezing all your muscles to stop the orgasm that’s fast approaching. “That’s gonna…I’m gonna!” 

“Don’t you dare, Little Dove.” He bites down on your ass cheek and you yelp in pain, but glad for the distraction from how close you were to finishing. 

“Such a bad little girl tonight.” He says into your skin before continuing to tease you with his tongue, swirling your clit, moving to gently flick your ass, then back to your clit. You never know where his tongue might explore next and you find yourself mentally mapping out each aisle of your favorite grocery store with your eyes clamped shut to distract yourself. 

“I wanna be a good girl,” you beg, utterly desperate to follow his rules tonight. “Please stop. I wanna be good, sir.” 

“Poor thing,” he says mockingly, rising and sliding himself inside you so slowly that you feel every inch, vein, and ridge. 

“Fuuuuuuuccccck,” you gasp as he bottoms out. A small, pleading ‘please’ escapes your lips but you don’t even know what you’re asking for. Your body feels like liquid at this point, every muscle relaxed and every bone somehow missing. It’s a complete state of nirvana, if only he’d let you cum.

“Not yet,” he drags out of you and slams back in, a complete juxtaposition to how he first entered you. His grip on your hips is so tight that you’re sure you’ll have bruises tomorrow. “This is my pussy, mine. Say it.”

“Y-yours…” you manage to whine. “oh fuck…yours Joel.”

“That’s right, babygirl.  Mine. So…completely…mine.”

One of your shoes falls to the ground as he continues to slam into you.  You no longer know the difference between right and left, you just know that one shoe is missing. As you reach back to touch him, he pins your hand to your lower back, sliding almost all the way out before slowly pressing his hips flush with your ass. 

“No,” he says sternly. “Only good girls get to touch.” 

You scream out his name, begging him to let you cum. Joel leans forward and pulls you up, still fully inside of you, he holds you still against his warm chest, the combination of your sweat and his sweat feeling sticky along your back.  

“You like when I use you like this, Little Dove?”

“Yessss,” you whine. You force yourself not to roll your hips even though the need to orgasm is almost painful. The word yellow flows through your mind. You could say it. You could say it and get what you want, but you trust Joel. You trust that he has bigger and better plans for you. 

“Say it,” he commands while rolling your earlier pinched nipple between his fingers. 

“Use me, sir….Please. I want to please you.”

“That’s my girl. My perfect little submissive.”

He pushes you back down into the sheets and fucks you harder. The sounds of skin slapping skin and your moans and squeals fill the room. You tense every muscle again to stop the orgasm that’s right on the surface. 

“Where do you want it, Little Dove?”

“Inside me, sir.”

Joel curses through gritted teeth. “Fuck, baby.” 

“Fill me, sir.”

“Such a filthy little girl. D’you know that?” His voice is strained, you know he’s close and you just have to hold off a little longer. 

“Only for you,” you say through moans and gasps.

That’s what does it and you push him over the edge with your words, the heat of his spend filling you as he lets out a loud moan. “Good fucking girl.”

He moves his hips into you a few more times, filling you so much it starts to leak out. “Fuck, takin’ me so well, soundin’ so goddamn sweet as you beg.” 

He doesn’t stay in long after he cums, which you’re thankful for because you’re sure a faint breeze could make you detonate at this point. He steps back to admire the mess he’s made, using his fingers to push his cum back inside you before sitting next to your knees.

“Get over my knee.” 

You rush on shaky limbs to get over this lap, wiggling your ass in nervous excitement. He uses one hand to pin your wrists behind your back. “Mmm - that’s my good girl.” 

Joel uses his other hand to draw slow circles along your cheeks. His warm and calloused fingers send shivers across your body.  “How many do you think you should get?” 

“10,” you respond sheepishly. 

Joel laughs deeply to himself. “You were a brat. Do you really think 10 is enough?” 

You audibly swallow in response to what you know is a rhetorical question. You didn’t think your pussy could throb any harder, but his voice, his hands, and this position has every nerve in your body aflame. 

“20, and if you behave, I’ll stop at 15.” 

“Please, sir.” The anticipation is killing you.

“Ok. I am going to spank you with my hand 20 times. You are going to count and say ‘I’m sorry’ after each one. Understand?” 

“Yes, sir.”  You try not to whine, but you need to be touched,

“Give me a colour baby”

“Green,” you whisper needily. 

2 sharp and quick slaps hit your ass.

“1 and 2,” you squeal, “I’m sorry” 

Light finger strokes tickle along the back of your thighs and up towards the now stinging skin. Joel’s hand disappears from your body and you tense. 

“Shhh,” his thumb holding your wrist strokes the soft skin. “Take a deep breath, Little Dove.” 

You inhale shakily, as you try to relax on your exhale, his hand comes down again. When the two of you did your research on spanking, all the experts said you’d know the sound of a good spank, and Joel being, well Joel, has taken it to a new level of perfection. His third spank stings, but it’s quickly replaced with a fresh wave of warmth in your core. 

“Three. I’m sorry,” you love how quickly he can turn you into a whining mess.

From that point you’re in a trance. You almost feel like you’re floating outside your body as Joel continues your punishment. You hear your voice counting each strike of his hand.  A rush of adrenaline courses through you after each one and you can feel his spend leaking out and dripping in between your thighs.

“Eight. I’m sorry” 

“Messy messy girl.” He says, swiping a finger up your thigh and through the folds of your swollen pussy, he stays away from your clit but you could scream with how good it feels. “I should make you clean this up.” 

You turn your head, glancing over your shoulder to face him, readying yourself for him to slide his fingers down your throat. Instead, he licks his fingers clean and then lays 3 quick smacks across your ass. 

“Eleven. Oh god,” your body jolts with the first one but by the third you’re rolling your lips into him for friction, you need more. More pain. More of his fingers. More of anything and everything he’s willing to give you. “I’m sorry.”

Joel isn’t surprised to see that you like the pain, but he is surprised by how much he likes seeing you in pain. He was hesitant about this whole thing, worried about hurting you, but you’ve never looked more beautiful. A blush lights your face and neck, a thin sheen of sweat across your body. Your squeals and cries slowly become wanton moans. He knows it hurts you, but he can also see how that pain is temporary followed by a rush of adrenaline and pleasure. 

“Good job, Little Dove,” he rubs the red hand prints gently. “Fuck, I don’t deserve you.” 

You relax into his lap as his praises wash over you. You feel completely submissive to him and for the first time, you feel what he said earlier. You are his. So completely his. 

“My,” SMACK 

“Perfect,” SMACK

“Little,” SMACK 

“Submissive,” SMACK 

They happen so quickly that all you can do is moan loudly in ecstasy, heat flooding your core to the point that it’s unbearable.  Pressure behind your eyes builds as your neediness grows.  

“Fif-fifteen. I’m sorry, sir.” You’re squirming uncontrollably, tears threaten to spring from your eyes.

“Please - please. It huuuurts.” Joel knows it’s not the spanking that hurts, it’s the animalistic need to cum that’s causing you so much discomfort. 

“There’s my good girl,” he growls, sliding 2 fingers deep inside you. He curls them forward into your tight and messy heat. The squelching of his cum mixed with your arousal fills the room.

“Does this feel good, Little Dove?” 

“Please Joel,” you sob through stuttered breaths, unable to hold back the tears any longer. “P-please - don’t stop.”

“Fuck I love when you say please. Did you know that?  How it makes my cock twitch hearing you whine sweetly, asking so nicely.” 

He slows his fingers, he knows how sensitive you are, he can feel your pussy gripping tightly to his fingers and he wants to bring you pleasure now, not push you into overstimulation. “You took those so beautifully, Little Dove. I’m so proud of you.” 

You cry out a thank you, your orgasm is right there, the heat in your stomach and spine ready to erupt and spread to the rest of your body. As you squirm on his lap you can feel his erection growing beneath you. Joel continues curling his fingers against your most sensitive spot, his other hand letting go of your wrists and moving to soothe the handprints he left. The gentleness of one hand combined with the demanding desire of the other sends your mind swirling. 

“Get up, baby girl.” He slides his fingers out from you and you want to cry out and complain before he adds, “I want you to cum on my cock.” 

Joel steadies you as you stand up in front of him, “Hold on, spin around.” 

You do as he says, albeit slightly confused until he presses his lips to the bright red handprints he’s tattooed across your skin. 

Yep, you think to yourself. I’m His. So completely his. 

You lay back on the bed, Joel crawling between your legs. He’s looking at you the way he used to when you first met, taking in every inch of your skin almost as if to commit it to memory. It’s the complete opposite of how he looked at you while you danced with Zack. His dangerous desire has turned to an overwhelming softness. 

“Lift your hips, baby,” he slides a spare pillow under you. 

His strong hands massage your hips gently as his eyes rake over your red and swollen pussy. “Oh - that looks painful, baby. Do you need me to take care of it?” 

You whine out in frustration, “Please, sir. I need to cum. Please.” 

He lets out a whispered ‘oh god’ at your pleas, hooking one of your legs in the crook of his elbow, the other wrapping around his waist as he lines himself up and then leans down to softly press his lips to yours. He slides inside of you slowly and you’re instantly shaking underneath him. 

“Shhh, you’re ok,” he whispers into your lips before kissing you harder, rocking his hips with perfect precision. “I’m right here. I got you, baby. I got you.”

The soft part of his belly grazes your clit and you cry out into his mouth. “Oh god - I’m gonna cum.” 

“There you go, baby. Cum for me.” 

You fall apart around him, your head falling back in a silent cry to the ceiling. A buzz of electricity shutters through your whole body, your walls clenching around him harder than you thought was possible. 

“That’s it,” he says into your neck as he licks and kisses. “Let go for me.” 

His words spread more tingles along your skin, you tangle your hands in his curls and pull his face to yours. Kissing him deeply as you start to come down. He stills inside you as he comes again, sending you into a wave of aftershocks. You swallow his moans in your kisses, you never want this to end.

“Stay here honey,” Joel says, getting up to walk with wobbly legs to the bathroom. He comes back with a warm cloth and carefully wipes you clean. Your body jolts and you cry out when he gets near your clit, he whispers apologies while drying you with a towel.

You start to get up. “Are you ok?” he questions. 

“I have to pee,” you laugh. As you wash your hands you take in your reflection. Your poor nipple is purple from the elevator, you have mascara down your face, and as you predicted, you are already bruising from his grip on your hips. You spin to see angry, dark red splotches along the globes of your ass and you smile at yourself. Fuck, is there something wrong with me? 

Even though you’re exhausted, you practically skip back out to the bed where Joel is holding a big glass of water and some soothing lotion that he purchased weeks ago for this exact moment. He laughs and shakes his head, he knows he’s in for it now seeing how happy you are with yourself. 

“Drink this and then lay on your stomach please,” adding a quick, “you little brat.” 

“So bossy.” You joke and roll your eyes, but you both love this part and as elated as you are right now, you know you need the aftercare so that your anxieties don’t get you later. So, you do as he says. You drink the water and then lay on your stomach. Joel rubs the cooling lotion on your marks and then places long, light kisses along your spine.

“How are you feeling?” He coos between kisses.

“I’m great. That was amazing. How are you feeling? I know you weren’t too sold on spanking me.”

Joel lies beside you and pulls you in, his front presses against yours, both of you using your own arm as a pillow. “Honestly, I’m surprised by how much I liked it. You looked so beautiful the entire time. I didn’t think I would like it, but….” He trails off looking slightly embarrassed, using his free hand to play with your hair. 

“But?” you push.

“But…well a man my age doesn’t get multiple orgasms very often, makin’ me feel like we’re in our 20’s again.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to act out more often. Any cute guys on the job site I can eye fuck?” 

Joel growls as he pulls you over to rest on his chest. “Mine. Now go to sleep, Little Dove. And stop saying that.” 

Tag List: @corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @mermaidgirl30 @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot

Also a special tag for @javierpena-inatacvest because I'm not on a mission to make her a Joel girlie.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #pedrohub #joel miller tlou #joel the last of us #joel tlou #pedro is daddy #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #fanfic #daddy joel #joel miller smut #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x original character #tlou fic #the last of us hbo #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #dom!joel miller #bdsmrelationship #bdsmplay #Spotify

[gabessquishytum]

This has been haunting my head forever, but as we all know Robert Smith was the leading inspiration for Dream in the comics with more than a bit of Neil sprinkled in there (and a few other goth rock bands like Bauhaus' Peter Murphy) and I just can't get over the image of a goth rockstar Dream.

It's the late 70s, and our boy Dream is riding a creative high of LSD and pedal effects to the top of the pops. They're calling the band he fronts, name and members are up to you or whoever takes this idea on, Goth bc they're too dark for New Wave but are just upbeat enough to steer clear of Televison's particular brand of Post-Punk. It's a newer label but a fitting one considering how dour and moody the genre has gotten since Ian Curtis's death. One he despises as he claims he's very happy with his current success and how his life is going.

But he's not happy. He hates playing to the newly forming stereotype of his fans, but he isn't. Celebrity Marriages hardly ever last and his relationship with his novelist wife is crumbling around him. He loves his son but the touring schedule is killing all of his free time. He's also pretty deep into substance abuse but he wouldn't admit it to his big sister let alone the random journo who has a camera in his face while he's trying to catch a 5:30 am flight to start his newest tour. He's just burnt out and creatively stuck as the label tries to pigeonhole him into this new subgenre, which he doesn't want anymore. Life, his life, can't be doom and gloom forever even though that's where it looks like it's heading. Forever being hailed as the Nightmare King.

Meanwhile, three radio stations over, Hob Gadling is desperately trying to hang onto life. He's a bit older now than when he first broke out onto the music scene as a rambunctious coat rider of the Sex Pistols, but he's still going strong. Punk has always been his outlet. Life sucks and you keep on living despite it. It tried to kill him not long after he debuted with substance use, but he powered through it and got clean. His wife died in childbirth, but he stuck around to raise his son. He even took a three-year hiatus and completely missed how much the sound had changed from his younger years. Even as post-punk has risen in popularity and the friends he knew have either died or changed their sound completely, he won't give up hope! Punk's not dead and neither is he. No matter how long his hair gets or if he grows out of his leather jacket.

The two meet rather coincidentally. Hob just happens to be opening for Dream on the Europe leg of his tour. Unsurprisingly the tension around Dream's band has become a powder keg and when he finally snaps and fires his guitarist, his bassist also leaves. With half the band gone, Dream considers calling it quits right then and there. Fuck the new album, fuck the last fifteen or so dates. He wants to go home. But Hob sees how close they are to finishing the tour and puts his foot down. They will finish the tour! So he offers up his services to Dream. He's not bad with a guitar and if Dream can cover the bass, then he'll play all night if he has to. Because out there on stage? That's life and he wants to keep making people happy and give them something that might transcend time and space. To never die bc his name is there among the annuls of rock history.

And in time, Dream will come around to his new friend. He will learn to appreciate the zest for performing and living his new friend has. He will also think he has the greatest body known to man and will forever laugh at the terribly done anarchy A Hob has tattooed on his ass, but that's neither for here or there. For now, Dream pulls himself together and gets his bass out from the dark pits of hell the roadies call gear storage. For the show must go on.

Oh god I want an entire novel length story around this. It’s fantastic! I have so many thoughts about these two!!

Hob is falling in love with all the new sounds that he’s hearing. He spent his time on his hiatus being a suburban dad, and now he’s back on the scene is just feels amazing. He can’t get enough of Roxy Music and David Bowie and Elvis Costello. And he’s determined to drag himself back up among those names! He’s got so many ideas of where punk can go! And he’s fascinated by Dream and his band. The lyrics are a little dark and wallowy, but Hob understands that actually people need to hear that. Life in the UK isn’t easy, particularly for young people. They need something loud and desperate and real. Little does he know, Dream feels like what he’s doing is so far away from being real. He feels likes such a fraud. He can’t get off the hamster wheel except by shooting up and passing out.

Hob recognises all of this in approximately 0.5 seconds after meeting Dream. It makes him pretty sad, but he’s determined that he’ll lift Dream out of his funk. If nothing else, he’ll make him love music again.

So when Hob said he was OK with a guitar, he was lying - he's actually a bit of a genius, and it's fair to say that Dream falls a little bit in love with him about half way through the sound check. Instead of hiding in the dressing room and licking his wounds over the band breaking up, he actually watches as Hob opens for him. Hob is very classic punk, it's all very "fuck the government, fuck me up the arse" kind of stuff, but Dream doesn't get bored for a single second. Hob is just that entertaining, and his riffs are insane. Dream itches to write a song for him. And when Hob ends the set with a jokey little song that his five year old son allegedy wrote the lyrics for (lil Robyn is very punk, just like his daddy) Dream’s eyes actually get a bit misty. It's probably all the smoke.

And there's really no time to get emotional! Dream’s drummer, Constantine, thankfully didn't walk out with the rest of them. So somehow, with Hob’s virtuosic guitar skills and sheer determination, plus Dream’s refusal to fail yet again, they actually make a really decent show. Dream feels a tingle of the old spark that he used to get when he first started out - it probably has something to do with the way Hob upends a bottle of water all over his head half way through the show and grins like a maniac.

After the show they crash in a local hotel. Hob calls his kid from the payphone and Dream wishes that he had the courage to do the same. Instead he takes some pills so he doesn't have to feel the high from the show gradually wearing off into nothingness. He doesn't know why Hob comes and sits next to him in the dark, pressing against him from thigh to shoulder. He stays for the whole of Dream’s trip, in fact, humming something quiet and classic. Dream feels quite ashamed of himself, and for the first time he thinks that maybe he'd feel better without the drugs. Maybe.

As the tour gets off to a slow start, Dream starts to notice that Hob is having some kind of positive effect on him. Just little thing. They get breakfast together, so Dream actually eats something, which is unusual. Their little arguments don't get out of hand, because Hob never lets them escalate. When Dream is angry and spitting at the world, Hob is sure to point of something positive. Not that Hob doesn't get sad, too - he just deals with it differently. He goes for long walks, and turns off the news when it gets bad. He gets himself a snack when he's irritable, and laughs about it afterwards.

Dream writes him a near impossible guitar solo and it feels like a "thank you".

They have a sweet, unexpected first kiss. It's 2am and they're standing at the edge of the road, waiting for a mechanic to come out to their broken down tour bus. There's no one around to see, so Dream rests his head on Hob’s shoulder. He's sore, and weary. Hob turns his head slightly and tucks an arm around him, and it just happens. They kiss. It is, of course, the first of many.

And you can bet that Dream kisses that anarchy tattoo a million time, too.

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw drugs #cw substance use

[luaspersona]

All Night│knj (m)

pairing ↠ namjoon x reader (f. reader) genre ↠ college!au; brother’s best friend!au; strangers to lovers; smut; one-shot summary ↠ when your brother bails on you, you have to find another way to entertain yourself for the night and Kim Namjoon just so happens to be a great company. rating ↠ +18 warnings ↠ alcohol consumption; flirting; sexual tension; the reader and Namjoon are shameless; explicit smut: consent king!Namjoon, a bit of thigh riding, nipple play, fingering, oral (f. and brief m. receiving), spit kink, dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, marking, light choking, begging, protected sex, multiple orgasms, cumshot, cum eating word count ↠ 12k (yeah, well. what can i say 💀) estimated reading time ↠ 30 minutes notes ↠ ok, so. i know i said i would upload this yesterday, but i got caught up with work and wasn't able to edit it one last time like i intended, and i hope it's ok that i'm dropping it now instead 🥺 note² ↠ also, this took so much longer than it should have, and it’s huge 😭 i’m so sorry y’all, but i swear it’s pure filth, the smut is just ridiculously long bc i don’t have any ounce of self control lmao 🫣 note³ ↠ ok, i'll let you get to it, now 🥰 crossposted ↠ read on ao3

navigation | masterlist | permanent taglist | tell me your thoughts ♡

As the good sister you are, you hate Jimin most of the time.

The sparse moments in which you feel love for your brother are the only downside of going long enough without seeing him, because you start to forget why Jimin studying on the other side of the country is actually crucial for your relationship. Recently, for example, you've been missing him, and that's not something you can just let happen.

So, when your boss sent you to Seoul to attend a handful of meetings during the week, you took the opportunity to meet up with your brother for the first time since he got into college and make new oh-so-sweet memories with Jimin so you can go on with not missing him for another semester or so.

The club he chose is far from the hotel your company paid for, but it's been a minute since you last toured Seoul's alluring night, so you decide to walk. You spot the large mono. neon sign Jimin described around thirty minutes later, and you quickly step out of the chilly night into the club's cozy interior.

You fish for your phone inside your purse, messaging a simple im here to your brother before finding your way to the bar. You hop onto one of the empty stools, smoothing the fabric of your pants and adjusting your cute top that is slightly hiked up from your walking.

You order a beer to start the night, and with its bitterness coating your tongue, you turn around to take in the environment. You have to admit Jimin was right about this place. Although really crowded, it feels comfortable; the dim lightning casting a cozy veil over the bodies pressed together on the dance floor, the playlist good and loud enough to soothe any thoughts that might threaten a good night out.

[10:31] baby j 😗: on my way

Upon reading his response, you can't contain the large smile that betrays your anxiety. It finally hits you how long it has been since you last saw your brother. You don't even know what color his hair is now, how he's enjoying his first semester, if he found another apartment, if he got that job he told you about last month.

Aren't you supposed to know these things? God, you're a terrible older sister.

“Hey! What's up, noona?” A deep voice calls beside you, startling you a bit.

You turn, catching sight of a tall man greeting the bartender before he slides onto the stool next to yours.

After you take a quick look at him, you find yourself blinking back a couple times, simply unable to divert your attention: you've never seen such a fine man in your life.

As he leans over the counter, his broad torso is evident even through his shirt, large shoulders making him seem way too big for that stool. And his thighs?! Those thick — thick — thighs. You could die a happy woman between them, almost drooling when he spreads his legs to make himself comfortable.

“I'll just have the usual!” He orders, prompting a nod in response.

You know you're ogling, but fuck if this man isn't just perfect.

He pushes his hair back, long fingers tangling in his black locks in an failed attempt to clear the strands off his eyes, but in a successful endeavor to make you suck in a breath. Your attention falls to his lips — plump rosy lips that shine once he wets them with the tip of his tongue.

You tilt up, finding his dark almond-shaped eyes — piercing back directly at you.

You tense a little under his scrutiny, but you don't turn away, holding his gaze as you sip your beer.

“You know it's rude to stare, right?” He teases, making you smile immediately. 

Thing is: you are a Park, so flirting was like second nature to you. There's no scenario in which you dismiss this perfect lead he just gave you.

Besides, Jimin tends to be late, right? Yeah, he said he was on his way, sure, but who knows if he won't go to his place to freshen up before coming to meet you or something — what could be so bad about entertaining this beautiful man by your side?

“Oh, I'm sorry. You’re gorgeous, so it’s easy to get distracted.” He snickers, not expecting your response but definitely enjoying it. “But it's ok, I’ll let you stare back so we're even. Here, let me make it easier for you.”

You wiggle your body so you're facing him, closing your eyes playfully.

But he keeps his eyes locked in your face, as he's already regarded you before making his way to the bar. He noticed you when you approached the stool. He noticed the way your pants hug your legs just well enough for him to be able to delineate your figure. He noticed how really fucking cute your top is, loving how it bares the skin of your neck for him to picture how nice it would be to taint the soft flesh. 

You are hot, and Namjoon is a practical man, so he was already trying to read you, maybe wait a bit to see if you came with someone, if your body language was inviting or reclusive.

What eventually pushed him to come over was the way your face lit up when you smiled at your phone and he found himself grinning in response.

So now, even with your eyes shut, and your body closer for him to shamelessly gawk at, it's your smile that he's focused on.

“So?” You open your eyes again.

He cocks his head, regarding you.

“I like your earrings.” He taunts, and you scoff in feigned offense.

“That's your review?”

The bartender shows up again, placing a bottle of soju and a single glass in front of the man, who pours a dose for himself before drinking it.

He looks at you, all pretty and pouty, and grins before he's leaning in.

“I think I’d like to paint you, princess.” When did his voice become so husky? “Is that something you'd be interested in?”

This close, he catches the goosebumps that crawl up your arms, but your reply is unaffected.

“Well, how good of a painter are you, baby?” 

You can feel his hot breath fanning your jaw.

“I'd say I'm really good, but it really depends on you.”

“What about me.”

He shifts back to his prior position, a smirk on his face.

“If you behave.”

“And if I don't?” He drags his tongue over his lip.

“Then that’s even better.”

“Then I'm definitely interested, baby.”

He shoots you a shit-eating grin. God, are those fucking dimples?

“Well, what is your review?”

“Uhm, I like your lips. Almost want to know what they taste like.”

“Almost?”

“Of course! Need to know if you're a good boy first.” You say, matter-of-factly, tilting your head to finish your beer.

His eyes follow your body when you reach for another glass over the counter. “I also think a bottle of soju seems like a lot for one person.”

Damn, you are hot.

“Well, I'm a big guy.” He says, but pours it in your cup nonetheless.

“I can surely see that.” You huff, making him laugh.

“I'm Namjoon, by the way.”

You introduce yourself, taking the hand he extends to you.

The feeling of his large palm enveloping yours take your mind to other places. Places where that same hand is running up your legs, reaching for your zipper and slipping inside your—

“You're here alone?”

Before you can respond, your phone vibrates over at the counter, and you reach for it, checking a new message in your brother's chat.

“Gimme a sec.”

[10:47] baby j 😗: im rly rly sorry, sth came up, wont be able to make it tn

[10:47] you: You alright?

[10:48] baby j 😗: yeah

[10:48] you: Then why cant you come?

[10:49] baby j 😗: …

[10:49] baby j 😗: i met up w this really cute guy from my class and i wanna fuck him

[10:50] you: You bailing on me to fuck???

[10:51] baby j 😗: im so so sorry 🥺

[10:51] you: No you aint 😡

[10:52] baby j 😗: my bad lol

[10:53] baby j 😗: gtg tho, see u tmrw

“You ok?” Namjoon asks, as soon as you finish your glass of soju after sending Jimin a bunch of angry face emojis.

You realize you're frowning, and immediately ease the scowl on your face.

“Yeah. My brother just stood me up.”

“Shit. I'm sorry.”

“It's ok.”

Namjoon is quiet for a second.

“So you're leaving?”

You honestly thought Jimin would take longer to piss you off this time, but when you meet Namjoon's uncertain eyes, you can't really feel too bad about yourself right now. You smile mischievously. 

“Giving up already? Oh baby, I thought you could hold up.” You pout.

“I would never even think of leaving you unsatisfied.” The grin returns to his face, where it belongs. “Besides, who would I share my soju with?”

You pretend to search around the club.

“There are plenty of people here.”

“I'm sure of it, but there’s this beautiful girl who’s talking big to me and looks awfully uncomfortable in her clothes and I happen to be a very good boy who just wants to help her out of them.”

“Didn’t think of you as the romantic type.”

“What can I say, I’m as sweet as they come.”

“Then what do you say I help you finish this bottle before you give me a hand, sweet boy?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Just one thing, though.” He turns to you, attentive. “Sweet isn’t really my thing. I like it rough.” You wink.

“Damn, princess.” He chuckles. “I like you.”

Namjoon prided himself on being a good flirt. He liked to take his sweet time with his partners, teasing and instigating in such a way that any fleeting touch would ignite the skin.

But you? You were humbling him.

Barely two cups into the bottle, he decided to take you to dance. He assumed that having his hands on your thighs, gripping your hips, and his lips brushing gently over your neck would help to shut that witty mouth of yours, but as you keep grinding your ass on his cock he finds himself guiding you closer, spellbound by the way your body frames his.

Namjoon's thoughts are clouded by your hips, the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips turning him the fuck on, making him feel like a horny teenager.

A thin layer of sweat covers your bodies, the loud music a mere excuse for you two to keep pressing into each other.

Namjoon can hear your shaky breaths as you turn a bit on his hold, lips nearing his ear as you nib lightly at the flesh — which, paired with the way your fingers grab his hair, is enough to prompt a quiet moan out of his plumpy lips, one that you wouldn’t have listen weren’t you so close to him.

He should be ashamed of how fast he’s giving in, but he honestly doesn’t give a fuck. He just wants more. So he lets you do as you please — even if just for now.

Namjoon leisurely rolls his pelvis on your ass, large palms coming up to circle your waist and it’s his turn to listen to the pretty whine you give him. Namjoon closes his eyes, trying to focus.

“Wanna kiss you so bad, babe. Can I kiss you?”

You nod immediately and Namjoon wastes no time in grabbing your hand in his and quickly guiding you out of the dance floor, cutting through the sea of bodies with clear purpose.

You two make your way to a hall near what you assume is the backdoor of the club, poorly illuminated but also a bit more quiet.

Namjoon gently pushes you towards the wall, your back meeting its cold surface. The way he stares at you resembles nothing the sweet eyes you met at the bar — now dark with lust, nothing short of intimidating.

And you would be lying if you said that didn’t spur a heat below your belly.

“Are we allowed to be back here?” A coy smile crosses Namjoon’s face.

“That’s what you're thinking right now?”

“What should I be thinking, sweet boy?”

A huffed laugh passes his lips, and Namjoon steps closer. One of his arms comes to rest near your face.

“In a good ass excuse for the show you pulled back there.” His low register sends a shiver down your spine.

On second thought? Maybe you shouldn’t have teased him that much, but— ah, who are you kidding?

“Thing is, babe, I’m not sorry.”

Namjoon shakes his head, taking a step closer.

With his body so near, you’re suddenly hyper aware of everything. You close your eyes when his breathing ghosts over your skin, feeling goosebumps trail over your arms.

You wait for his next action. You wait for a touch or a reprimand, but it never comes.

Wait.

He didn’t… leave you, did he?

You’re mortified for a second, but as if sensing your distress Namjoon brings his fingertips to graze over your sides. The sudden touch startles you a bit.

When his hands reach your upper arm, you hear him let out a sharp, frustrated breath, prompting you to open your eyes.

“You are fucking beautiful.”

You want to reciprocate his praise, but the words seem lost in your throat. This close you feel drunk on his beauty, dazed by his full, sinful lips and intoxicated by his heat as your bodies orbit each other.

Are you imagining him?

Namjoon’s hand continues to travel up your body, stopping at your jaw.

The pad of his thumb traces your chin, reaching your bottom lip and slowly pulling it off of your anxious bite, soothing the flesh in a tender movement.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks again, tone serious.

You smile.

“At this point, you better.”

And so he does, plumpy lips touching yours with surprising tenderness while his hands rest on your neck. You are taken aback by his softness, not reacting for a second before pulling him closer to bathe in his warmth.

The kiss unwinds all the tension off of you, replacing it with lust. The docility of his actions makes them hypnotic, your mind disoriented with his skin grazing yours — but you’ve never been a patient woman.

You slide your hands through his chest, trailing his defined torso before grabbing his shirt in your fists. You break the kiss and he lifts an eyebrow in question.

“Thought I told you sweet isn’t really my thing, big boy.”

Namjoon chuckles. “So impatient.”

This time Namjoon smashes your lips together, kissing you with hunger.

He presses you further against the wall and you stumble with his eagerness, a satisfied hum leaving your throat.

His hands explore your body, going through your neck, your shoulders, your hips and then your ass, grabbing a handful and giving it a hard squeeze.

He opens your mouth with his, and you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. His breath is ragged when he slips his tongue inside, and you two take barely a second to match each other's rhythm.

You suck the soju's sweetness off his tongue, and he drinks the bitter memory of your beer. Forget the alcohol — he's the one inebriating your thoughts.

You feel every inch of his body, pressed flush against his broad torso as his waist smoothly drags over yours, making it almost impossible for you to keep your whiny sounds down your throat.

You make no effort, on the other hand, to resist the urge to bite his pillowy flesh, nibbing with maybe more force than you should, but grinning in satisfaction when you earn a sweet groan in response.

You entangle your arms around his neck, pulling your bodies closer in a desperate attempt to get more of him, and he seems just as insatiable, slithering his arms behind your back to press your fronts.

Namjoon breaks the kiss, but he gives you no time to complain before you feel his mouth on your neck, sucking and biting between licks over the sweaty skin.

Your hands find purchase on his hair, grabbing his locks with force as arousal gushes out of you.

Namjoon's determined to mark all over your neck. After he sucks a hickey on the spot between your ear and your jaw, you just fucking know he's sporting the smuggest smile at the way his actions shove the prettiest of yelps out of you.

He levels his face with yours, but avoids your lips when you try to resume the kiss. 

“You’re awfully quiet, baby girl” he points out when you frown “have nothing smart to say?”

“How about fuck you?”

“I plan on it, don’t worry.” A cocky grin takes his lips. “And although you look gorgeous trying to be in control, I wanna hear you. I wanna hear how good I’m making you feel, baby.”

He doesn’t really give you an option when he slots his leg between yours, large thigh pressing up your core and pushing an audible whimper out of you. The sound makes Namjoon grab a handful of your ass and use it to grind you along his thigh — his fucking thigh.

You grab the back of his head, pulling him to you as you smother his lips with yours, but this time Namjoon eats all your moans, feasting on the sounds you so obediently grant him.

You’re bathing in each other’s heat and with a particularly delicious roll of your hips, your core brushes on his growing bulge. You suck in a breath, parting with the kiss to learn how to breathe again.

“Look at you” his tone is laced with lust “riding my thigh like a good girl.”

Fuck, you're so damn horny, and you've barely done anything. The fuck is up with you? It scares you how you know you'd promptly fold if Namjoon asked you too, just to have that cock drilling inside you.

So you just hum weakly, apparently forgetting how to fucking speak.

“What was it again? That you called me before?” he asks, returning to slide your clothed core over his strong legs again, loving the way you look getting off on his thigh “Oh, right. What happened with all the filth you were saying before, sweet girl?”

You swallow. This man is fucking challenging you. You have to get your shit together.

“Namjoon—” you moan his name out “I’m… I’m so fucking wet right now.”

“Yeah?” His Adam's apple bobs in his throat.

“Yeah, Namjoon, my panties are fucking soaked.”

“Shit. That’s it, wanna hear you losing it.”

Namjoon wants you so bad. He can feel the warmth of your core rubbing against him, and he can only imagine the growing stain in your panties, the desire of licking you clean the only thing in his mind. He wants to know how you look when you cum, and he just knows it'll be the prettiest fucking thing.

“I can feel how hard you are for me.” Your shaky voice makes him growl.

“Yeah, sweet girl?” That’s his new favorite pet name, the only thing he wants leaving his mouth.

You close your lips on his neck, moaning against his skin when you lick up his throat, a salty taste coating your tongue.

“I haven’t even—” you falter, intensifying your movements to touch his covered cock with each raise of your hips “I haven't even touched you yet, big boy. If I lose control, you sure you can keep it?”

You suck a purple stain on his pulse point, nibbing at it softly and rolling your eyes back over the grunts he pours on your ears.

Your hand slides between your bodies, fingers ghosting over his cock. Namjoon chuckles darkly.

“You're such a tease.”

“And what you gonna do about it, big boy?” You murmur on his skin.

Before Namjoon can answer, though, a high giggle echoes through the corridor.

You both turn, startled by the sound.

A couple stumble its way into the corner, in a messy make out session that delays their realization that they aren't alone. 

“Do you live close?” You ask Namjoon, breathe steadying when the two of you understand the couple doesn’t really mind the audience.

“Yeah.” He says, non-committal.

“Can we maybe go to your place?” You suggest, unsure if he's comfortable with it.

Namjoon turns his attention back to you, and his lips curve up into the most gentle smile you've ever seen.

“If you want to.”

You nod, mirroring his smile.

Namjoon adjusts himself in his pants, trying to be as comfortable as one can be with a painfully hard cock in tight fitting slacks.

You take the cue to soothe your own clothing and Namjoon can't help when his cute smile turns into a full on smirk upon seeing the evidence of his hands on your crumpled outfit.

He takes your hand in his when you both are relatively presentable, and once again leads you through the club, this time aiming for the exit.

Turns out, Namjoon isn't a good boy at all.

The whole ride to his apartment his hand was planted on your thigh, caressing softly without ever breaching your inner thigh or skirting higher — it was as innocent as it possibly could be.

Yet you were squirming and fidgeting the whole trip as his voice, enveloped in the most vulgar desire, whispered the most filthy promises on your ear, shooting arousal all the way down to your now sticking panties.

Promises of making you cum on his tongue, of fucking you senseless with your face on his mattress — of painting you with his cum tonight.

By the time the car finally stopped at his place, you felt your knuckles sore from clutching the fabric of your pants.

Not that he was unaffected. Namjoon could dirty talk you all he wanted, it didn't change the fact that you saw the way his cock twitched and how he was restlessly shifting in his seat whenever you played into his little scenarios.

Although, in hindsight, saying you wanted to be stuffed full of him wasn't the best idea, because the quiet groan he spilled in your ear did nothing to placate your own aching pussy.

The warmth of his palm is familiar at this point as he takes your hand to climb the flights of stairs to his place. Namjoon quietly fishes for his keys and, before opening the door, he looks at you, smiling softly and making you smile too.

When you both are inside his apartment, you wet your lips, anticipating his kiss. But Namjoon misses the action, too preoccupied with taking off his shoes and jacket and politely asking for you to do the same at the entrance.

His long legs stride towards the kitchen, and you almost assume he’s nervous when he fumbles with his cabinets, picking up two glasses.

You frown and, slowly following after him, you hop up on the stool by the counter, across from him. 

“Namjoon.”

“Yeah.” He fills the cups with water, placing them between you two and finally returning your gaze.

“Do you still wanna fuck?”

Namjoon huffs out a laugh. “Yes. I definitely still wanna fuck you.” His eyebrows knit together. “Why? Don’t you?”

“I do. But I kinda expected you to have, you know, thrown me against the wall or something by now.”

“I might still do that. Just wanna talk for a bit, make sure you’re sober and all.” He explains, reaching for his cup, and you mimic his motion, soothing the dryness of your throat. 

“Well” you ponder “I honestly feel a bit tipsy, but I’m conscious.”

“Do you want some time to be sure?”

“Nah, I’m sure.” He nods. “Are you drunk?”

“Not really.” Namjoon presses his lips into a tight line, before saying: “I also wanna know your limits.”

“My limits?”

“Yeah, I wanna know what you don’t like.”

“Oh” you huff out a laugh, dumbfounded “that’s nice. You seriously ask that to everyone you hook up with?”

“I like to.”

“Okay, uhm…” you sip your water. “I’m not really into degradation and, although I said I like it rough, I would appreciate it if you didn’t hit me or anything.” He nods, waiting for you to continue. “I also don’t feel comfortable with ass stuff. Oh, and do you have condoms?”

“Yes.”

“Then I think that’s it. Maybe just don’t try anything freaky before telling me?”

“Sure, no problem.”

“What about you?” He cocks his head to the side, considering you for a second.

“There isn't much I'm not willing to do, honestly, so really? Just don’t want you to lie or fake stuff. I want you to tell me if I’m doing something wrong.”

“I can do that.”

Namjoon rounds the counter, stopping in front of you before helping you stand.

“Up.” He commands, head tilting in the direction of the counter, and you jump to sit on it.

“There’s only one problem.” You say, guiding him between your legs.

“What?”

“I’m soaking wet right now.”

“That can’t be comfortable.” He traces soft circles on your thighs.

“It isn’t. And it’s your fault, big boy.” You pout.

Namjoon sucks his lower lip between his teeth, dark lust cloaking his eyes.

He gets closer, hands coming to your ass and squeezing it.

“But I’ve barely done anything.”

“I’m painfully aware of that.” You whine, seeking more contact.

“Are you normally that impatient, baby?”

“Do you normally take this damn long to fuck someone?”

He chuckles.

“You sure you can take it if I’m rough with you, princess?”

“You sure you can be rough with me, sweet boy? Cause you’ve been all talk and no—”

He smashes his mouth against yours before you could finish.

Namjoon’s lips seem like velvet on yours — despite the pressure, despite the thirst with which he drinks you up. He moves his lips in a way that almost feels like too much, like you won’t be able to take it, but the taste of lust coats your mouth so deeply that you’re intoxicated.

His hands memorize your body, grabbing your neck to tilt your head to the side before you open your mouth to meet his hot tongue, flicking it with yours.

You explore his mouth, happy to swallow all of his breathy groans as Namjoon tightens his grip on your ass, pulling you to drag on his bulge and grunting at the feeling, your body gasoline to his fire.

He can barely concentrate on the kiss, and you’re not much better, the initial eagerness developing into a sloppy make out session — fuck technic, how can one focus when Namjoon’s cock is so deliciously rubbing against you?

He starts to kiss down your jaw, wet lips tracing your sensitive flesh, taking your neck as his canvas.

You couldn't be more thankful for not having any more meetings to attend until being back to Busan, because you definitely don't own enough makeup to hide the purple marks he leaves behind. 

He cups your boob, squeezing it in a way that has you parting your lips in a whimper.

“Fuck princess, you’re so responsive.”

His palm slithers beneath your shirt, caressing the soft flesh of your stomach before he tugs your top off.

“Take this off for me, baby.” He commands, voice low in your ear as he brushes the thin lace of your bra.

And you obey, unclasping it and letting it fall somewhere near your top.

You're not ashamed or timid in the slightest when you lean back on the counter to let him take in as much as he wants from you, a tiny smirk crossing your lips. Your confidence makes Namjoon crazy, but you can't help it. You feel so hot under his gaze, you could let this man do anything to you.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous. Like, honestly, what the fuck.” You giggle.

“Come back here then, sweet boy.”

He kisses down your body, from your neck to your collarbone before he finally reaches your tits.

He closes his mouth around you, swirling his tongue around your nipple as his thumb finds your other breast, flicking over your hard nub and eliciting a loud cry out of your pretty lips. Namjoon seriously feels like he could drown in your sweet sounds.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging a handful and making him groan, vibration reverberating all through your chest.

A string of saliva attaches his lips to your tits as he peppers down kisses between the valley of your chest to regard your other boob, latching onto your nipple and taking his hand to smear the wetness he left behind.

The tip of his tongue licks your nipple, and you buck into his hips.

“Fuck, Namjoon, I… I love your mouth.” You pant.

“Love your tits.”

And he certainly makes you feel so.

Your head falls back when his hand cups your pussy over your pants. The elongated moan you grace him with makes him pull your waistband, quickly undoing your buttons.

You suck in a breath when his hand slips inside your panties, and the groan that leaves his throat is borderline painful as he finally feels you — his fingertips slightly spreading your folds as your slick coats him. 

“Damn, baby, you’re dripping.” He says, breaking the pattern of kisses on your tits to look at your face.

“I fucking told you.”

“Is all this for me?”

“Yeah, ba—” your words turn into a whine when his middle finger presses down your clit.

He chuckles, and you clench around nothing.

Namjoon feels like he's dreaming, seeing your head tilted back, your eyes closed shut as you squirm on his finger.

He pushes one digit inside your aching pussy, and you sob. Your wetness paired with the warmth of your walls pushes a moan out of his mouth, electricity going straight to his dick and coaxing him to push another finger inside — his mind spiraling as he imagines how your pussy will feel like around his cock.

“Good girl, soaking my fingers.”

Namjoon’s attention is locked on your face, gauging your reactions carefully.

“Shit, baby, that's it” you shudder when his fingertips find your g-spot, and he starts to hit it restlessly, your walls sucking him in.

You feel your breath scaping your lungs. Although Namjoon’s hand is somewhat restrained by your pants — which he didn’t mind taking off — the stretch of his fingers inside of you is maddening.

He's slowly working you up, heat coursing through your body and all the way to your scalp, the obscene sounds dripping from you only spurring you on.

You start to struggle to support yourself, feeling weaker by the minute, so you grab his upper arms, in an attempt to steady yourself. When you open your eyes, you’re met with deep, dark lust.

“I want to eat you out.” He says, and you feel like you’re going to pass out.

“Fucking god.”

“Would you like that, baby?”

“Yes, baby, fuck” you moan.

“Tell me you want it.”

Can't he tell by the way your chest is rising and falling at an almost concerning speed?

“I wanna feel that pretty mouth of yours in my pussy, Namjoon.”

He groans before his hand leaves your cunt and helps you down the counter.

You two stumble your way to his bedroom. Namjoon's arms hug you tightly against him as your hands pull his hair in a messy kiss, the only concern in your minds is to remain linked.

Namjoon tosses you carelessly over his mattress, drawing a gasp out of you.

The sight of you on his sheets, bare chest glistening with his saliva, pants poorly undone and shifting as you try to relive the emptiness he left behind makes Namjoon grope himself through his clothes, swallowing strained grunts.

You smirk at his distress, bringing your hands to your boobs and pushing them together to shove that grunt out of his throat. 

“You look so pretty like this, spread out for me.”

“I bet you’ll find me prettier with your cock inside of me.”

“You keep saying these things…” he closes his eyes, sighing heavily at the image you cast in his head. “I think I need to teach you some manners, dirty girl.”

“I’m counting you’ll at least try.” You smirk and Namjoon chuckles.

In a smooth motion, he takes his shirt off, exposing his broad, sculpted chest. Smug takes his face at the way you shamelessly gawk at him, and he kneels at the floor, hands harshly yanking you to the edge of the bed by your pants, before he finally slides them down your legs.

Namjoon straight out moans when he notices the large pool of arousal staining your panties.

“Damn, baby” his voice is barely audible and you squirm, shutting your legs to try and provide some friction. “You want to be fucked this bad?” His hands come up your thighs to part them, gaze transfixed in your core, layered by the thinnest lace of underwear.

“I want to be fucked this bad by— by you, shit.” You stutter as Namjoon lips meet your legs, biting and licking the soft flesh.

He trails kisses along your thighs, closing the distance to your cunt, but instead of touching you where you need him to, his lips simply hover over you. You let out a low curse when he continues his path to your other thigh, licking and sucking roughly.

“Namjoon, please.”

“Please what, princess? Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you.”

“I want your lips.“

“They’re right here.”

“I just told you.” You whine.

“Fucking tell me again if you really want it.”

“Please, eat me out, baby.” Your voice is pathetically high, but you couldn't care less.

“Since you asked so nicely” the look of his dimples between your thighs is the most beautiful obscene thing you've ever been graced with.

Namjoon shoves your panties to the side, and the way he curses your name out has you forgetting how to breathe.

“The prettiest fucking pussy, so fucking wet for me” he groans “I bet I could slip right in.” And you’re sure he’s right, feeling your lust dripping down your ass.

Namjoon seems to like the way you squirm under him, because instead of fulfilling his promises, he blows a cold puff of air over your folds and the way you shudder has his dick twitching. 

“Namjoon, for fuck’s sake.” He chuckles. “I'll fight you, I swear to god.”

He brings his finger to glide up your entrance, effectively shutting you up.

Namjoon teases you, pulling your folds apart before spreading your slick around them, leaving you all nice and sloppy for him. His eyes flick up to the way your chest rises and falls above him, then his gaze returns to your drenched cunt.

How are you supposed to survive the night if he keeps looking at you like that? Like you are sin incorporated? 

He finally brings his face to you, licking a long stripe along your pussy and collecting all your juices on his way up to your clit, where he swirls his tongue before sucking, hard.

You can’t help the loud cry that exits your throat, nor how it elongates when Namjoon hums in pleasure.

“You taste so fucking good.”

One of your hands flies to his hair, twisting and pulling carelessly, while the other gathers his sheets in your fists.

You jolt your hips up to meet his face as he continues to lap at your cunt and when he drags the tip of his hot tongue to part your folds and pushes it inside your walls, Namjoon has to pin you down to prevent you from lifting off the bed.

“So fucking good, baby” you moan, fumbling with his hair.

“Yeah?” His deep voice against your heat makes your head fall back.

Namjoon feel his control dissolving pretty fucking fast as he takes in all that you can give him, arousal gushing out of you for him to feast.

His tongue explores your cunt and he softly takes your clit in between his teeth. You feel a sharp pressure growing in your stomach and you grind on his face seeking more of it.

“Shit! Do that again, please” you yelp, and he promptly nibbles down at your clit.

Namjoon starts to focus on your now swollen nub, while he slides his hand down, and before you can process his intentions, you feel the delicious push of two of his fingers inside of your cunt.

The sound you let out has Namjoon’s mind blanking. You arch your back, squeezing your eyes shut as goosebumps crawl up your arms.

Namjoon lifts your legs to rest them on his shoulders, allowing himself to go deeper into you and he speeds up his movements, his fingers scissoring you open for him. Namjoon eats you up like his life depends on it, sucking the soul out of your body.

Sinful squelching and slurping noises fill his room, and he wants those sounds imprinted to his brain, your pussy loudly dripping for him.

In a sudden movement, he curves his fingers, hitting your sweet spot. Your breath tries to keep up with your racing heart while the knot in your belly threatens to snap.

You let go of his sheets, hand coming up your chest, cupping your boob just slightly before pinching your hard nipples, the sensitivity making you squirm, Namjoon's groan between your legs just spurring you on, the sight of you unraveling above him the most erotic thing he's ever seen — and to know he's the one making you shiver like that makes his cock painfully hard.

You rest your hand beside your head, trying to steady yourself somehow and failing miserably.

Your mind is empty, his tongue washing away any lingering thoughts or worries you’ve ever had, as if you know nothing but the feeling of his lips wrapping around your folds and the maddening drag of his fingers inside of you. 

When your legs start to shake and your walls clench around his digits, Namjoon slightly parts his lips from you, but without pausing his fingers — if anything, he starts to pump them faster.

"You gonna cum?"

You nod.

Your lower lip will definitely be bruised tomorrow.

"Words, baby girl."

"Yes! Yes, I’m close" you cry.

"Look at me." He demands, and you do as he says.

You support yourself on your elbows, meeting his firm gaze on you.

The sight of Namjoon between your thighs, chin glistening as your arousal drips from his mouth, and the fact that he still hasn’t stopped fingering you, make your whole body quiver, your stomach contracting hard, and you have to gather all your self control to not cum just from his looks.

Fuck, you wish you could take a picture.

"Want you to look at me when you come." You clench around his fingers. "Can you do that for me, princess?"

"Yeah" you are like… twenty percent sure you can.

Namjoon grins to himself in triumph. You’re already already this fucked out and he’s barely begun with you.

His mouth returns to your core. Honestly? Namjoon's knees are surely bruised from the hard floor, scraping whenever he moves further against you. But he couldn’t give less of a fuck as his tongue worships you in earnest, your name falling from his lips like prayer while his fingers stretch you so fucking good, pushing you to the edge of your orgasm.

"Jesus, Namjoon, that’s it" you feel silly, struggling to keep your eyes open.

"Cum for me baby. Cum on my face." He commands, register so low you barely hear him.

The feral look he directs you alongside his words make your orgasm hit you in a strong wave, your body lifting from the mattress and shaking vigorously. Namjoon’s hand spreads over your stomach to try and pin you down as he keeps his tongue lapping at you, drinking up all your essence and helping you ride out your high.

He groans at the way your browns shoot up your forehead, mouth silently parting as your head falls back.

You’re so fucking gorgeous when you cum.

You push his head away from you when your legs start to tremble from oversensitivity, searching for air.

Namjoon puts your panties back in place, the soaked clothing sticking to your eaten out pussy and making him hum, satisfied.

"That’s it, baby, you did so well for me."

"Fuck" you whisper, running your fingers through your hair. The shockwaves of your orgasm are still making you shiver when you pant, "what the fuck was that?"

Namjoon chuckles, slowly lifting himself from his bruised knees.

His stare on you falters when he darts his tongue out to collect your cum from around his mouth, eyes fluttering shut.

He climbs up the bed, careful not to crush you as he brings his lips to yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and he swallows the quiet whine you make before pulling away.

Namjoon takes his wet fingers and wraps around his mouth, sucking his fingers clean with his eyes closed.

When he looks at you again, something unreadable crosses his gaze before he gulps. "Can I spit in your mouth, pretty girl?"

Your reaction betrays your answer, thighs immediately pressing together as a new wave of arousal shoots through you at his request.

But Namjoon still waits until you say: "Fuck yeah, you can."

His smile is ridiculously innocent for the matter at hand.

"Then open up for me, princess."

And you do, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out as he grabs your jaw, hovering above you.

You close your eyes as a small globe of spit hits your tongue, and you swallow proudly, a content hum ripping from your throat. 

"Good girl, shit, that’s so hot."

He leans in to resume the kiss, making himself more comfortable between your legs. His clothed cock drags against your inner thigh.

Why is he still wearing pants?

"Namjoon" you call, between kisses.

"Uhm."

You take your hands to his torso, tracing freely and loving the way his skin shivers under your fingertips. From his broad shoulders to his firm abdomen, you explore his golden, sweaty skin above you, until you slide one of your hands down. Your palm touches his member, stroking it just slightly as you bathe in the broken moan he graces you with.

"Let me suck you off." You offer, feeling how hard — and thick, mind you — he is under your hand.

"Can you handle more?" His tone is teasing, but his look is genuine. 

You’re silent for a moment. What does he mean by that? Would he just… stop if you said no?

God, why is that so hot?

"Yeah, sweet boy. Wanna take care of you too."

The problem is that there’s no way Namjoon’s gonna last if you suck him off. He can barely control himself now, after tasting you and drawing all those sweet sounds out of you. His dick is already twitching under your half assed strokes, the slight discomfort from his pre cum staining his clothes a clear sign he needs to be inside you. He wants to make you cum again, but around his cock this time.

So he chuckles.

"Can you take it if I fuck you now?" You bite your lip, nodding. "Yeah? Tell me you want my cock, baby girl."

"I want you cock, Joonie." You spill, lips nearing his ear. "I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk tomorrow."

Maybe not your brightest idea, but at this point you don't give a shit. Namjoon is the only thought on your mind and if you came that hard just from his fingers, you can’t wait to see what his dick will feel like.

"Fuck, I love your filthy mouth." He groans. "Sure you don’t need some time?"

"Nah… maybe leave the riding for later, though?" A coy smile crosses your face.

"Sure" he smiles back.

Namjoon kneels back on the bed, wincing a bit when his sore knee touches the crumpled sheets. Ignoring it, he reaches for his wallet in his back pocket, taking a foil packet out of it.

He stands up, tossing the wallet aside before reaching for his belt.

"Let me" you ask, lifting yourself and sitting on your heels.

You take your hands to his thigh, caressing it before going to his belt, which you undo, eyes not daring to look away from his.

You bite your lip when your hands open his zipper, and you reach around him to grasp his pants, pulling them down slowly as he looks at you with nothing but lust, eyes tilting down to your bare chest.

"You honestly have the most amazing thighs."

He frowns in amusement. "Thanks?"

Usually you’re a big fan of reciprocity, and you might have considered taking your sweet fucking time with him, just like he did with you, if Namjoon hadn’t just give you one of the best orgasms of your life and if you didn’t feel arousal pooling again on your already soaked panties. So, instead, you just pull down his pants along with his briefs, his cock springing free.

Namjoon hisses at the feeling of the fabric dragging against his shaft, and you have to suck in a breath when you look at his thick member. It must be painful how hard he is at this point, dick angry and throbbing.

"Big boy indeed." You blurt out, making Namjoon laugh as he kicks his pants down his legs.

"Losing your confidence, princess?" Honestly? Namjoon has no business having such a pretty cock and being this hot. You feel like he should be illegal.

You curl your palm around his dick and give it a tentative pump. A long moan falls from his lips from finally receiving some attention.

"Namjoon?"

"Yeah."

"Can I at least taste you?" Are you fucking pleading?

He gulps.

"Please?" You pout.

He bites his lip — how could he ever say no to you looking up at him like that, the cutest pout on your lips, while you beg him to let you give him head? He'd give you anything.

"Shit, yes, you can."

You smile.

That's it. Namjoon's sure he's imagining you. Is he dreaming?

You inch closer, giving his tip an experimental lick and tasting his salty pre cum, riveting at the sweet sounds he lays out for you.

You spit on his shaft before you lick your way down him, smearing your spit all over his length, before giving his crown a light suck, prompting Namjoon to buck his hips into your mouth, and you welcome him.

You moan, feeling his weight on your tongue. He twitches between your lips when you hollow your cheeks.

You start to take him further, his tip grazing the back of your mouth while you pump what you can’t fit inside.

"Fuck, princess, you look so pretty sucking my cock." He groans, head tilting back for a second and squeezing his eyes shut.

When you start to bob your head faster, though, Namjoon gathers all his self control and pushes you away, and you release him with a small pop.

You pout, and his jaw tenses "why would you stop me then?"

"I wanna fuck you." He pumps his dick a few times, hand slipping easier with your saliva now coating him. "All I’ve been thinking about."

Namjoon rips the foil packet open with his teeth, securing the condom around himself.

You make a move to lay back on his mattress, but Namjoon shakes his head.

"Nah, baby, that’s not how I want you."

He slithers his arm around your torso, harshly turning you over. He yanks you by your waist, pulling your ass up to him. His hand runs down your spine, pressing your face on his sheets.

Namjoon positions himself behind you. His palm comes up to caress your ass before giving it a hard squeeze.

Namjoon parts your cheeks, and he brings his fingers to your folds, spreading them apart to stare at your pussy. He grunts upon noticing your cunt is already a mess for him again even if he’s just licked you clean.

"You got wet again from sucking my dick, princess?"

"You felt so good in my mouth."

Your words fuel him, and Namjoon doesn’t think twice before he inches closer and licks your folds, the tip of his tongue collecting your licking lust as he hums in pleasure.

"Sweetest fucking pussy" your eyes roll back.

Namjoon pulls away to admire the view. There are you, all pliant, waiting for his next action with your face pressed down his bed, your ass on display, pussy dripping in anticipation.

He never felt this fucking hard.

"God, you’re gorgeous. So beautiful for me like this."

He grips his cock, aligning himself with your entrance, but instead of just sinking it inside you, Namjoon drags his crown up and down your folds like he has all the fucking time in the world. Your spit mixing with your gushing arousal.

You groan — you wanna fight him.

"Namjoon" his name drips like sin from your lips.

"Uhm." He hums, distracted.

"Just fuck me already."

He smirks. 

"Now that’s no way of asking something, is it?" You groan. "Don't you wanna be a good girl for me?"

"Baby, please, can you fuck me? My pussy is so fucking wet right now." You whine, wiggling your ass, creating some, but not nearly enough, friction. "Please..."

Namjoon fucking loves your dirty mouth. "Good girl."

He slowly presses himself between your folds, shoving a loud moan from your throat.

You shudder from the intrusion, his tip deliciously splitting you up as it slides in your cunt.

"Shit, baby, you’re way too tight." He grunts. "Relax for me, princess."

Namjoon leans over you, his torso framing your back. He lays sweet kisses on your shoulders, and his hand on your hips starts to softly trace your skin, raising until he’s grabbing one of your boobs. He squeezes it, pitching your hard nipples.

His gentle touches make you melt, allowing for Namjoon to drag his cock further inside of you, finding little resistance as his thick cock stretches you up.

Your cunt engulf him so tightly that Namjoon feels his mind spiraling, and when his hips meet your ass, you both let out a shaky breath.

"Shit, I feel so fucking full."

He chuckles.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Yeah, fuck. Gimme a sec."

You roll your hips slightly to try and get used to his size, but he’s filling you up so good that the tiniest of movements makes his shaft drag against your walls, a quiet yelp falling from your lips.

"Ok." You gulp. "You can move."

Namjoon licks his lips and smirks, hands tightening on your hips.

"Hold tight, baby."

He slowly pushes himself out of you, but doesn’t give you time to feel empty as he immediately comes slamming back inside. You gasp, body jerking forward.

Your pussy welcomes him with each thrust, swallowing him with the most wet sounds you’ve ever heard, and you start to push your ass back to try and take him further between your tight walls.

His cock moves in a merciless pace, and you feel like you forgot how to breathe.

How the fuck does he know how to move his hips like that?

You’re exhilarated, mouth open but not a single sound coming out. Overwhelmed by his soft moans above you, by the way he stuffs your pussy full of him, by the way you can feel your legs wet with your arousal gushing from your core.

You try to get your shit together, prompting your ass back to meet his thrusts, and when you finally find his rhythm — but not without the help of his firm hands dragging you against him — the slapping sounds become so vulgar that you sob.

"That’s it, baby, that’s what you wanted, right?" He mumbles, voice barely coherent as his throbbing cock relentlessly drills your pussy. "To be fucked so hard, to be so stuffed you aren’t able to speak, hum?"

You hum, feeling like you’ll scream if you open your mouth.

Namjoon doesn’t like it, though. He hates the way you’re suppressing your pleasing from him.

"I thought I told you I wanna hear you losing it, baby. Where’s your filthy mouth?"

"So… you… so good, Namjoon… fuck" you stutter.

"You like it?"

"Yeah, shit, go harder."

His eyes flutter shut for a second.

"Anything you want, princess."

Namjoon shifts his legs, trying different angles to make you unable to hold your pretty sounds in. He attempts a couple of ways before he sets his left foot on the mattress, and when he resumes his thrusting a loud scream rips from your throat.

"That’s it, Namjoon, god, there. Please, do it again." You plea, voice pathetically high as you clench around him.

Your moaning is fuel to him, and he starts to fuck you as hard as he can, loving how you’re spiraling under him, tortured sounds finally reaching his ears.

"You feel so good, baby." You say and Namjoon growls.

Just as blissful as the sensation of his cock deep inside of your tight walls, is knowing that he’s making you feel on the fucking moon too. So, he seeks the same spot over and over again, his purpose clear.

You roll your hips, grinding on his cock.

God, it's such a shame you're not into degradation. All Namjoon wants it's to call you his slut.

"Shit, princess, you’re so greedy, fucking yourself with my cock."

You push your ass back again, but this time you feel his balls slapping against your clit and you both falter as lightning courses through your bodies, making you constrict your pussy around him.

"Do that again, baby girl." He commands, and you fucking obey.

You clench around his cock again, and Namjoon goes feral.

His strokes are hard, but so fucking precise that the way he’s railing your pussy makes you feel like you’re losing your grip on reality. 

Shit, this is too fucking good, and Namjoon feels dizzy. If he wasn’t drunk before he certainly feels like it now, thoroughly enjoying the way you’re completely unraveling under him.

"You’re squeezing me so good, so fucking tight for me." He groans out.

His fingers dig into your flesh in a way that you’re sure it’ll definitely bruise — but you want it too. You want him to mark you all over with the evidence of how good he’s fucking you, of how good he’s making you feel.

Your mind is clouded. Your knuckles sore from how hard you’re clutching the sheets.

Namjoon’s so fucking satisfied, pride exuding from his body as he looks down at you on his bed, being fucked senseless as he drills his cock in and out of you, loud slapping and squelching sounds making it even more obscene.

"You take me so well, shit, such a good girl." Namjoon groans, hypnotized by the way your body rocks with the force of his thrust.

You could die a happy woman just from the way he praises you. His words making your stomach twists in what you’re sure will be another mesmerizing orgasm. 

"I could fuck you all night, baby, and I just know you’d take it."

"Yeah, Namjoon— I, I would." You yelp. "I will."

He has the audacity to chuckle. 

"I’ll hold you up on that offer later."

You’re already so close again. God, you don’t wanna come like this, you don’t wanna come so soon.

"Namjoon?" You call and he hums in response. "I wanna ride you."

Did he win the lottery or something? He feels like he doesn’t deserve it. God, he missed like, three essay deadlines this semester, he definitely doesn’t deserve it. 

"Fuck, yeah, baby, you can ride me."

He slips out of you, and wastes no time crawling to sit at the headboard.

Namjoon reaches out to hold you, helping you straddle him with your wobbly legs. He laughs when you take a deep breath, goosebumps all over your skin.

"You sure you can ride me, though?"

"Shut up" you hiss, trying to concentrate before you wrap your hand around his length and lift over him to align him with your entrance.

A shaky cry falls from your lips as you gradually sink in his dick. The stretch is completely different and his fat cock splits you open so deliciously that you somehow feel even fullen than before.

"Fuck, I love this position." He reads your thoughts.

You just nod, unable to think as you find purchase on his shoulders. When you’re finally fully seated, you feel like Namjoon's cock is touching your soul.

"Fuck, Namjoon, you’re huge."

His face is all scrunched up, brows knit together in pleasure, and you’re almost angry at how beautiful this man is. The nerve.

"God, this pussy so fucking tight."

You take a deep breath, and swiftly roll your hips over him. Namjoon’s head thumb back and you feel so fucking powerful when his hands grab your ass, trying to guide you over him to reproduce the feeling. So you grind on him again, making his cock reach spots you didn’t even know you had.

After rolling a bit more on his lap, you muster all the strength you can and lean back, planting your palms on his thighs — have you mentioned how fucking beautiful his thighs is? — before slowly raising yourself.

The second time you drag your pussy down his length is even more delicious, and it makes you feel so good that you feel like this is wrong in some way.

Ok, who are you kidding?

You’re both pure sin at this point. There’s no turning back from the obscenities you two said tonight.

So yeah, fuck it.

You try to focus as you slowly start to move your hips up and down, regretting all the times your friends tried to convince you to exercise and you didn’t, because you can’t seem to find a pace.

But Namjoon, so very attentive to your needs, grabs your hips, helping you establish a sluggish pace — but a pace nonetheless.

You gradually start to feel more comfortable, more capable, and Namjoon’s grip on your waist is now more for his own sake than yours when your movements speed up.

Soon enough, you’re riding him in earnest, in a hard rhythm that makes you meet his pelvis each time, his thighs quiver under your weight in the most gorgeous way as you send Namjoon to the places he not long ago made you visit. 

A proud grin settles on your face, watching him grunt with each stroke. 

"You're so good for me, baby, letting me fuck you like a good boy" you echo his words, almost teasing, but your shaky tone betrays you.

"You fuck me so good, princess."

Shit, you feel lightheaded.

Namjoon bites his lip, eyes transfixed on your bouncing tits. He takes your boobs in his palms, caressing and grasping them softly, your sounds music to his ears.

Your gaze falls to his neck, not nearly enough marked by you, so you dive to his throat, tongue licking up to his ear before you start to kiss and suck harshly at his pulse points, making him moan loudly into your ear.

"You’re so sweet and big for me" you say, clenching around him and you feel his dick twitching inside.

"Shit, baby, do it again." He asks, and you promptly close your walls around him again.

Namjoon’s not sure how long he’ll last with you on top of him like this, riding the soul out of his body while your lips worship his neck. But he needs you to come first — or rather, again, but this time around his throbbing cock.

Thankfully you’re not far. Your lower belly is contracting, nearing your high, and you’re so gone that you could tell Namjoon you love him at this point, you don’t even care — and you don’t think he does either.

"You’re so good for me, my pretty girl."

His? Shit, can you have that on paper?

"All yours, baby."

You yelp when Namjoon’s thumb finds your clit and starts rubbing you. The pad of his fingers spreads your wetness over your bundle of nerves, your heart ramming against your ribcage.

"Baby, I’m… I’m close." You're fucking panting, that's what you are.

"Thank god." He breaths. "Can I take over, princess?"

You nod, and Namjoon circles his strong arm around your waist, turning you without slipping his dick off of you.

When he suits himself above you, you immediately wrap your legs around his torso, and Namjoon starts to fuck you like he’s made for it. Fuck, why does he feel like he is, though?

His thrusts are relentless, but he uses his last working braincell to aim his cock against the spots he’s learned that make you cry louder — which you do.

Your hands grip at his hair, tugging hard as your head falls back.

You have to gather all the focus you possibly can to open your mouth, your voice barely a whisper.

"Choke me, baby."

Namjoon gulps.

"What."

"Please, choke me."

"Shit, princess." Is this what dying feels like?

Namjoon closes his hand around your neck, fingers pressing down your pulse points as he feels your erratic heartbeat slightly soothing under his fingertips. Why is this so hot?

Your every sensation is heightened. His cock heavenly railing you, his hot breath fanning against your sweaty skin, the loud sounds that fall both from where your bodies meet and from his mouth.

It takes barely a minute before white spots blur your vision. The tight not in your stomach snaps so fucking hard a scream leaves your parted lips.

Namjoon wants to know how to immortalize the way your face scrunches up when you come — would you let him do it again just so he can take a picture?

The force of your orgasm makes your pussy clench hard around his cock, and you milk him and your body quivers violently. When your back arches from the bed, his bed, he swears you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

His thrusts become shallow, and you’re still rocking with the afterwaves of your orgasm, fighting through the overstimulation when Namjoon feels his own high approaching, so he quickly pulls himself out of your cunt.

He rips the condom off of his cock, tossing it wherever for him to mind later, and starts to pump himself above you. And what a fucking sight to behold.

"Come for me, baby, you’ve been so good, I want you to come all over me."

And like the good boy he is, Namjoon immediately does.

His hot white cum paints your belly just like he promised, a guttural groan leaving his throat as he empties himself over your stomach until he’s thoroughly spent.

You look down, wetting your lips before you bring your finger to your belly. You collect his cum with a flicker of your finger, and take your hands to wrap your mouth around, tasting his salty orgasm with a satiated hum.

Namjoon shudders. In that second, he wants nothing more than to come again just to see you eat his cum out of yourself once more.

"You’re a fucking menace, you know that?"

You smile innocently, and he falls beside you on his sheets.

Namjoon’s breath is uneven, and he brings his hands to push his hair out of his face.

You turn to him, a large grin on your lips. Namjoon’s eyes find yours.

"What?" His lips curve upwards.

"Fuck, sweet boy, I think I’m in love."

You two start giggling, you shake your shoulders in pure mirth while his laugh reverberates all through his body — you both find those sounds just as attractive as the obscenes ones you were eliciting just now.

It takes some time before your shared amusement softly becomes small snickers. 

"Still with the sweet thing?"

"You’re the best I’ve ever had, baby, you’re definitely my sweet boy." He takes his lips in his teeth, shaking his head. 

"I’m the best, huh?"

"Hell, yeah, I’m fucking giggling, Namjoon. Really, what the fuck."

"You’re the best pussy I’ve ever had. I honestly couldn’t be happier your brother bailed on you."

"Shut up." You playfully shove his shoulder, chuckling.

"Seriously, though, introduce me to him, I need to thank him."

"Don't ruin it." You joke.

You both fall into a comfortable silence, collecting your breaths.

"Wait, be right back."

Namjoon lazily gets on his feet, grabbing the used condom from the floor and heading to his bathroom, closing the door.

He returns a couple minutes after, a towel in his hand as he crawls back to bed and starts to gently clean your stomach, reaching your pussy and easing the mess he’s made of you.

"Thanks."

"Don’t mention it." You try to get out of bed, but your shaky legs make you stumble as you get up.

Namjoon quickly helps you steady yourself, a proud smile curving his lips.

"Can I use your bathroom?"

"Sure."

"Uhm… also, do you mind if I stay the night?" You ask, glancing at the clock on his bedside table, noting it’s way past one in the morning.

"Princess, I expect you too." Namjoon smirks. "We’re not nearly done."

Namjoon somehow can look even better in the morning.

You wake up feeling his serene heartbeat beneath your ear, his arms enveloping you and your legs entangled.

You’ve been just peacefully staring at him for around ten minutes now.

At first it was because you feel like you’ve been hit by a bus, sore to the bones. But then, it was because he’s just so damn beautiful you couldn’t help it.

He takes a deep breath, stretching his limbs as he wakes up, yawning loudly. You inch closer and give him a quick peck on his cheek, before resting your chin on his chest.

"Good morning, pretty girl" he smiles, opening his eyes and tugging you closer.

"Morning, sweet boy."

"How long you’ve been awake?"

"Not sure. Ten minutes?"

"Wow, and you’ve just been staring at me? That's so creepy." You roll your eyes, and he chuckles.

Neither of you speaks for another couple of minutes, bathing in the calmness of the morning.

"You ok?" He asks.

"Yeah. Really sore, though."

"Well, you asked for it."

"I did, didn’t I?" You grin. "And you gave it to me like the good boy you are." You tease, kissing his lips.

He reciprocates the touch, but neither of you takes it further.

So. Fucking. Tired.

"I see I wasn’t able to teach you how to behave."

"I’m a lost cause, but I appreciate the effort." He huffs out a laugh, closing his eyes.

"What time is it?"

You turn on his hold to face his clock. "Almost ten."

"Hum."

Namjoon doesn’t make any move to get up, and you start to look over his room. For some reason, you didn’t pay it the slightest attention the night before.

"You in college?" You ask, when you notice tons of books piled on the floor near his dresser.

"Yeah, in my last year."

"Uhm, so pretty boy is also intelligent." He snickers.

"My good looks can be deceiving."

"I was deceived indeed. You have such a dirty mouth, I was baffled." He shoves you away from his grip, groaning.

"You're one to say, the filthiest girl I’ve ever met."

"The filthiest? You flatter me." You laugh, as he playfully pushes you to the other side of the bed. "Oh c’mon, you liked it."

He smiles. "Yeah, I did."

He’s so tender you almost feel shy.

"What do you study?"

"Literature."

"It suits you." You say, scanning his face.

"Thanks, I really like it. But what about you? Aren’t you in college?"

"I graduated last year."

"What you do?"

"Architecture."

"That’s nice."

"Yeah. I’m on a work trip, actually."

"You’re not from here?"

"No, I live in Busan."

"Oh. My roommate is from Busan."

"You have a roommate?" You ask, mortified, but Namjoon chuckles.

"Don’t worry, he was out. He didn’t hear the way you were screaming last night." You shake your head, a smile on your face. Namjoon breathes deeply before lifting to a sitting position on the bed. "Want some breakfast?"

"Yeah, I’d like that. Let me just use the bathroom real quick."

"Ok. Do you like toast? That’s basically the only thing I can make."

"Finally!"

"What?" He frowns.

"Finally you have a flaw, oh my god, I was losing hope" you say dramatically, raising your arms.

"Can't have you falling in love now, can I?" He jokes and you laugh.

Namjoon gets out of bed and you follow, heading for the bathroom and closing the door behind you.

He smiles to himself, shaking his head.

He makes his way to his kitchen, finding his roommate already there, eating his breakfast.

"Morning." He announces himself, and Jimin turns to him.

"Hey, man" he smiles mischievously, cocking his head in the direction of your clothes lying on the floor "how was the party last night?"

Namjoon's brief concern for forgetting to gather the clothes you took off in the kitchen quickly dissolves into a smirk.

"The party? Oh, I kept it in my room."

"All night?"

"All fucking night." They both chuckle. "She’s in the bathroom, so please be civil when she comes here."

Namjoon goes to his cabinets, grabbing some bread to prepare you something to eat.

"Sure, man."

"What about you? You arriving now?"

"I came home around six, I think, so I just crashed. Woke up half an hour ago."

"And how was it with that guy?"

"It was mid. But hey, it was worth the shot. Even if he has no fucking game he's still hot as fuck."

"Sorry to hear that." Jimin shrugs. 

"And what about this girl, huh?"

"Man, this girl…" Namjoon trails off, shaking his head "so fucking hot, I felt like I was dreaming."

"Really? You seeing her again then?"

"Don’t think so, she’s not from here."

"That’s too bad."

"Yeah, it’s whatever. By the way, do you wanna hang out later? There’s this music festival going on and I have no one to go with."

"Don't know, I’m probably going out with my sister today, she flew from Busan to see me."

"Oh nice. Maybe you could introduce us."

"Yeah, if she’s down maybe we can all go together to this festival." Namjoon nods.

He leans on the counter, facing Jimin, and smiles once he sees you coming from the hall.

"Hey, pretty girl."

Jimin turns back when Namjoon acknowledges you.

"Oh, hey sis!" Jimin greets automatically — before freezing completely.

Both yours and Namjoon’s eyes widen in terror.

"Chim?!"

"Wait— she’s your sister!?"

"Jimin’s your roommate from Busan?"

You stand still in the hallway, watching mortified as your brother's face contorts in a grimace, realization hitting him before he shoots his friend a deadly glare.

"God, Namjoon, you fucked my sister?!"

"I didn’t know it was your sister!"

"Man, you’re fucking gross!"

"The fuck’s that supposed to mean?!" You ask, indignant.

"My sister’s not hot!"

"Jimin?!"

"Can’t agree with you on that one, man, sorry." Namjoon argues.

"Those are my sister’s clothes, man?" He continues, ignoring what his friend said for his mental health’s sake, before he turns to you. "And you’re wearing his clothes? What the fuck?!"

"Jimin, stop being a child."

"You came to Seoul to fuck my roommate?!"

"You’re the one who stood me up last night. To fuck, may I remind you."

"Thanks for that, by the way." Namjoon interjects, winking at you, and a small smile crosses your lips before Jimin groans, exasperated.

"Seriously, man?! And what the hell happened to your neck, did he fucking punch you?"

"God, no! I just cho—"

"Shut up! God, I can’t fucking look at your two right now, unbelievable." He says, getting up in a hussle before striding to his room, cursing under his breath.

You and Namjoon are left alone in the kitchen, silence filling the room.

You gauge his expressions, realizing he’s doing the same.

"Thank fuck he wasn’t here last night." Namjoon says after a while, and you can’t contain the laugh that escapes past your lips.

"You really had to thank him, though?" Namjoon bites his lips. 

"I'd feel bad if I didn't. Mom taught me to be grateful." He bites his lip. "Do you still want that toast?"

You smile. "Sure, sweet boy."

note ↠ sooooo, what do you think? i really hope you guys enjoyed it as much as i did! it took some time for me to finally be satisfied with it, and i have like, ten versions lost somewhere in my google docs lmao links ↠ navigation | masterlist | join my permanent taglist

#bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fic #namjoon smut #namjoon pwp #namjoon x you #namjoon x reader #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #namjoon oneshot #kim namjoon fic #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #kim namjoon smut #kim namjoon x you #kim namjoon pwp #rm #rm x reader #rm smut #bts #bts fic #namjoon #luawrites #fic:all.night

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Could you please write something based on season 5 ep.5 please when !SPOILER! Osferth dies and r, who is his sister, watches him dying. And when she goes with finan and cynlaef to reunite with uthred and sihtric, he comforts her. i need some hurt/comfort please because i love sihtric and miss our beloved baby monk, it's not fair!😭

Yes, I got u.

warnings: angst/fluff/more angst

pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

summary: your brother, Osferth, had just died and Sihtric made sure to keep you close.

word count: 2.8k

Note: request!

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @bathedinheat @hb8301

'What happens to us when we die?'

'Oh my god, I'm going to die. I'm going to die!' 'Brother!' you cried out as you saw Osferth in Finan's arms. You rushed over to both men and saw how Osferth was coughing up blood.

'Please don't let me die, Finan,' Osferth cried. 'Osferth, no, stay with us!' you screamed at the sight of your brother, who had just been stabbed, 'Finan, do something!'

But you knew just like everyone else that nothing could be done anymore. You held your brother's hands as he took his last breath, and you felt Cynlaef's embrace when you all cried. You and Finan held each other for what felt like hours after the event, not willing to accept the loss.

'There is nothing we can do,' Cynlaef said quietly after a while, 'we have to keep moving. We have to reach Uhtred and Sihtric.' 'Oh, god,' you sighed, 'they don't even know about… about…' 'Osferth,' Finan said, and you both started crying again.

—-

'Where is Osferth?' Sihtric asked, looking at Finan, then at Cynlaef and then at you.

You were still mounted upon your horses and the three of you looked pale and tired.

'Finan,' Uhtred said concerned, when no one answered, 'where is Osferth?'

Both their faces had dropped with fear and came closer.

'Your brother?' Sihtric asked as he looked up at you, but he already knew the answer when he saw tears escaping your eyes. 'He, O-Osferth…' you sobbed, and that was all you could bring out.

You felt Sihtric's hands gently wrap around your arms and he carefully pulled you down, off your horse, into his arms as you cried. Uhtred spoke with Finan and Cynlaef, but it was inaudible to you. You felt numb at the loss of your brother. Sihtric held you tight as you cried into his chest. He wanted to be strong for you, but you could tell by the slight shaking in his breathing that he was also crying. 

Sihtric had been so kind to your brother, always, right from the start. He helped Osferth crawl out of his shell, which did the same for you. They all had been nothing to kind to you and Osferth, after Uhtred had decided to let you both join his men. Finan and Uhtred felt like brothers to you, whereas your feelings for Sihtric had quickly become romantic, but you had always played it down. Osferth had known, you had no secrets for your brother, and he knew you always liked Sihtric. You cried harder at the thought of never having Osferth around anymore. Your brother would never witness you get married or have children. He would never celebrate another birthday with Sihtric and Finan, and you would never see both men carry a drunk Osferth home again. You even felt heartbroken at the fact you would never hear him throw up anymore, because he had too much ale after Sihtric and Finan riled him up.

Sihtric hushed you as you heard Uhtred speaking quietly with him.

'We have to move,' Uhtred spoke softly, you could hear in his voice that he had also been crying. 'I know,' Sihtric answered. His voice sounded deep as your face was still buried into his chest. 'Is she fit to ride her horse?' Uhtred asked.

You didn't hear Sihtric reply, but Uhtred suddenly placed his hand on your shoulder and gave you a squeeze.

'You'll ride with Sihtric, we'll take your horse,' Uhtred said softly and walked away.

Moments later you found yourself on Sihtric's horse as the lands passed you by. Sihtric had pulled you back against his chest, wrapping you within the cloak he had around his shoulders and he had one arm wrapped around your waist. His chin rested upon your shoulder the whole time and you felt him occasionally planting soft kisses onto your cheek. 

He couldn't play down his feelings for you anymore, which he had always done, just like you had. He knew you somewhat liked him, but he was too shy to act on it, which was the same problem you had. But now you were hurt and grieving and Sihtric wanted to show you he was there for you, even if he was grieving too.

'Osferth really looked up to you, you knew that?' you sniffled quietly. 'Hmm?' Sihtric hummed next to your ear, 'even though we got him drunk?'

You chuckled and Sihtric smiled softly at the sound of you.

'Yes,' you said, 'he loved being around you and Finan. And Uhtred of course. You all taught him so much, you taught me so much too. We never knew how to repay you all, for what you have done for us.' 'Repay us by staying alive,' Sihtric whispered after a moment of silence, and you felt his arm around your waist tighten, 'I won't be able to handle another loss.' 'I am not ready yet to leave this world, Sihtric,' you said and you felt yourself choke up again, 'and Osferth wasn't ready either. But I know he…' you sighed and tears escaped once more, 'I take comfort in knowing he died in Finan's arms, and not alone somewhere on the field during a battle.' 'He died in Finan's arms?' Sihtric asked.

You nodded, to which Sihtric took a deep breath and pulled you even closer against his chest. 'I'm sorry I wasn't there.'

'Actually,' you chuckled lightly, 'I'm glad you and Uhtred weren't there. I would have been afraid of the state the two of you would have been in. I mean… Finan, he… he became numb instantly, he froze, like me. But you and Uhtred probably would have turned to rage, taking out every last person who wasn't supposed to be there.' 'Probably,' Sihtric sighed and nuzzled your neck, 'but first I would have made sure you were safe.' 'I know,' you smiled, 'I know you always try to keep me safe.' 'Only try?' Sihtric asked. You couldn't see his face but you knew Shtric had an eyebrow raised now. 'And so far succeeded,' you rolled your eyes and smiled. 

You loved how Sihtric always made you feel better. It seemed effortless to him. Even after the tragic loss of your brother, he still made you smile.

'You know…' you started, then carefully reconsidered your words, 'Osferth was the only one who knew…' 'Knew what?' 'That… about… how…' Sihtric chuckled, 'just say it,' he whispered, knowing you were about to admit what he always wanted to hear. 'Osferth was the only one who knew how I felt about you... that I like you.' 'You told him that?' 'Yes… I, was it wrong of me, Sihtric?' 'No, no,' he shook his head, 'it's just…,' he sighed, 'he was the only one I told too.' 'What?' Sihtric shrugged, 'it happened when I was drunk once. But he never said anything about you.' 'And he never said anything about you either,' you scoffed, 'I can't believe this.' 'Classic Osferth,' Sihtric smiled. 'Truly,' you chuckled, but soon tears formed in your eyes again.

You both became silent and listened to the hooves of Sihtric's horse as the journey continued, until the sun began to set.

—---

'We will make camp here,' Uhtred said as he got off his horse, as did Cynlaef and Finan.

Sihtric got off his horse before you and helped you down, you thanked him by planting a kiss on his cheek before you walked off to the stream of water you had seen moments earlier.

You crouched down and washed your face, still hoping this was all a nightmare and you would wake up, but it never happened. You sat near the water as you heard the men set up camp, not far away from you. You sat and watched the water for a while. You suddenly remembered all the times Osferth took you to look for pebbles when you were younger. He was your big brother and he was protective but also liked to tease you. He would tell you he saw a beautiful pebble in the water, making you look closer, and then as you leaned in to look where he was pointing at, Osferth would splatter water in your face. You couldn't help but smile at the memory as tears stung in your eyes.

When darkness had truly shown itself, you got up to walk to the camp that had been made.

Cynlaef had managed to catch a deer and was preparing the meat already, but you had little appetite. Finan had the same problem, and everyone noticed how awfully quiet he got. You knew he had seen how friendly you and Sihtric were during the day, and you expected he surely would have taunted you about it, but nothing ever came out of his mouth.

'Finan,' you said as you sat down next to him, making him look up at you. He gave you a weak smile, but his eyes told you how broken he was, and you embraced him.

'It wasn't your fault,' you whispered. 'I let him die,' Finan said quietly, and he choked on his words. 'No, no, you did not,' you hushed him as your voice trembled. 'He shouldn't have been there.' 'Finan, my brother was an oaf, yes, but he knew the risks. Always,' you said, trying to comfort him, 'and so did I. We have always been aware that one day we'd run out of luck.' 'Aye,' Finan said, 'but it should've been me.' 'Don't say that.'

Finan shrugged at your words. You gave him a firm hug before you got up and made way to Uhtred, who was talking with Sihtric.

'Uhtred,' you said and both men turned to face you, 'Uhtred, you need to keep an eye on Finan. He is not doing well.' Uhtred looked over your shoulder to Finan, then back at you, 'and are you doing well?'

His question took you by surprise. 

'I… I don't know,' you sighed as tears started to well in your eyes again.

Uhtred sighed sadly at the sight of your tears and Sihtric was quick to take your hand.

'Have you eaten yet?' Sihtric asked, to which you shook your head. 'Make sure to eat something, and then rest,' Uhtred told you, then he looked at Sihtric, 'make sure she eats. And she can sleep in my tent as I will keep watch tonight.' 'Yes, lord. I will make sure she eats, but she will sleep with me,' Sihtric said sternly.

Uhtred's eyes darted between the two of you and he was quick to understand what was going on.

'You two?' he asked, to which Sihtric pulled you into his arms. Uhtred slowly started to smile and shook his head, 'A pagan and a saxon. Did Osferth know?'

You both chuckled at his question and you told him how he had known you liked each other, but never told the other person about it.

'Classic Osferth,' Uhtred smiled as a tear escaped his eye. He patted Sihtric on his shoulder and made way to Finan.

Sihtric cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead, 'you must eat something, my love, you need to gain some strength again.'

You knew he was right, so you forced yourself to eat at least some bites of the meat that Cynlaef had prepared. You watched how Uhtred and Cynlaef made sure Finan ate too, before Uhtred made way to guard the camp from a comfortable distance.

As the night grew darker and colder, Sihtric walked you to his tent. He covered you with his fur cloak and pulled you into his arms. Then he nuzzled his face into your neck and held you tight.

'At least,' Sihtric said softly when he heard you sniffle, 'at least your brother is in heaven now.' The words felt foreign to Sihtric, but he knew it was what you believed and accepted that, just like you never dismissed his believe in Valhalla.

'I'm not so sure,' you chuckled through your tears, 'you and Finan have made him sin more than once.'  Sihtric laughed, 'I do not know what you speak of, my love.' 'Sure,' you laughed too now. 'But if he is not in heaven, then I am sure he is in Valhalla. He earned his place there too.'

You turned around to look at Sihtric, who was quick to cup your cheeks and wipe away your remaining tears.

'Maybe,' you said, 'wherever he is, I just hope he is safe.' 'He will be safe,' Sihtric hushed you, 'otherwise we know Osferth will smite those who threaten him.' And you both couldn't help but laugh at the memory of Osferth telling some Danes he would smite them. 

You shook your head and looked up at Sihtric with a shy smile, who returned the same expression. His hands moved to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer and soon his lips found yours, locking you in a soft but firm kiss. 

You could curse your brother now for knowing all this time that Sihtric had liked you the same way as you liked him, and just never told you. You know Osferth approved of Sihtric, and he had often taunted you when he caught you staring at Sihtric, and you wondered why he had never said anything to either you or Sihtric. 

But in truth, Osferth had never told either of you because he enjoyed seeing the two of you being clumsy and shy around each other, and he knew that sooner or later one of you would yield and admit your true feelings for one another, and he was so eager for that day to come. But he would never be there to witness it, yet he was the reason why you and Sihtric both finally surrendered to your feelings.

'Sihtric,' you sighed as you broke the kiss. 'What is it, sweetling?' he smiled and leaned his forehead against yours. 'What will… when,' you mumbled, 'what will happen to us when we die?' 'What do you mean?' 'I mean… If… if I go to heaven…' you paused, looking up into his eyes. '... and I go to Valhalla,' Sihtric said quietly, then he sighed and closed his eyes, as you buried your face into his neck after he wrapped you in his arms.

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #the last kingdom #the last kingdom fic #sihtric fic #tlk #sihtric kjartanson #osferth

[cowgurrrl]

Losing My Cool

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author’s note: shortie short but I’ve already got another part half finished 🤠 fic named after this song

Summary: What do they say about all good things? [1.1k]

Warnings: yearning idiots, probably incorrect interview technique, idk what else

A PA brings you over to your mark and instructs you to stay there until your name gets called, which seems simple enough, but she stays nearby to make sure you don't wander. It feels a little silly to always have to be babysat, but you brush it off, smoothing your hands down your blue dress and taking deep breaths. You've done late-night shows before, but they still make you nervous, especially since you know just how many people watch them. Ryan sent you a video of Elizabeth sitting in front of the TV, watching an ad for tonight's show, and cheering when she saw your name and face. So, who knows who else might be watching if your five-year-old goddaughter is?

You can hear the introductory remarks, laughter, and applause that come with them, but you miss the voices whisper-arguing behind you. They die down by the time your brain wraps around the sounds and decide to stay focused. And you do. You run through what you want to say about the movie, fun anecdotes, and easy ways to skate around questions about Joel. You feel settled and prepared until familiar hands wrap around your middle, making you jump and turn in his arms. 

"You're gonna get me in trouble," you say, and Joel smirks.

"I had to convince the production assistant to let me come kiss my girlfriend for good luck."

"You're getting fast and loose with that term, huh?" 

"D'you want me to stop?" He asks, his thumbs swiping over your hips, and you shake your head.

"I kinda like it."

"Good," Joel says as the band starts playing, and you push at his shoulders. He quickly kisses you, his hand lingering on your lower back for a second longer than necessary, before rushing away with a mischievous look on his face. "Kick some ass!'

You laugh at the sentiment as your name gets called from the front of the stage, and the curtain opens enough to let you walk through. You smile and wave to the audience members as you walk over and shake Jimmy's hand. "Thank you so much for being here," he says so only you can hear, and you smile. The band vamps until you sit in the plush chair beside his desk and accept the applause when he repeats your name.

"It's so great to see you! You look fantastic!" He says, and you smile as you run your hands over the skirt of your dress.

"Thank you! I'm so happy to be here."

"Well, we are very lucky to have you. You've been a very, very busy lady these past few years. When was the last time you were in New York?" He asks, and you puff out your cheeks as you think.

"At least four or five years."

"And you went to school out here, right?"

"Yeah, I graduated from NYU. I was lucky enough to earn a full ride on a merit-based scholarship which doesn't happen very often, and once I graduated, I did a few projects here in the city before getting my first movie deal out in LA."

"That's amazing! And since then, you have been nonstop. I mean, you are everywhere. And you have a new movie coming out called Red Dirt Girl," he says as he holds up a picture of the movie poster, and the audience cheers at the image. You reach out to boop Lilly's nose and feel yourself smiling so hard that your cheeks hurt, but you're so happy. For once, it feels genuine. "What was it like to work on this film?" 

"It was just the opportunity of a lifetime. We filmed out west around the Colorado-New Mexico border, and I hadn't even been out there, so it was so fun getting to know that area and working with the cast and crew. I mean, it was just like coming to work and having fun for twelve hours a day, and then we all lived in the same building, so we would just keep hanging out, and we got to be really close."

"And the girl who plays your sister, Lilly Porter, is just phenomenal for someone as young as she is. Did you find yourself getting protective of her?" 

"Oh, absolutely. Lilly just turned sixteen about a month ago, but when we were filming, she had just turned fourteen, so she was really young, and I hadn't worked with someone that young that closely. And we had a day where we just sat down and talked for hours, and she's such an old soul, and she's so smart, but, I mean, we both know how hard the industry can be. So, I set her up with people I trust and gave her advice I wish someone had given me. I got really close with her family, and, of course, they are fantastic people as well. So, it was a learning curve for both of us, but she is an amazing, beautiful person, and I'm so lucky that I got to work with her. I totally consider her a little sister now." 

"Which is ironic considering that you guys butt heads so much in this movie."

"Oh, yes, we do."

"Let's take a look at this clip here," he says as a short clip from the movie comes up on the screen behind you. Lilly's character, Sabrina, is arguing with your character, Jo, about getting sent home from school because of her behavior. Lilly perfectly portrays the annoying little sister as she stomps through the house, making sarcastic comments and driving you up the wall. The clip ends with Sabrina telling Jo that she's just like their mother, which obviously, hits Jo right where it hurts. You smile and clap along with the audience as the clip ends. "Wow! I mean, just fantastic! Were those scenes hard to shoot?"

"The scenes where we were fighting were really hard to film because I just love her so much, and I never wanted to yell at her, but Lilly was absolutely brilliant because she would do a new thing each time we shot the scene that would completely throw me off. So, like, one time she knocked over a chair or slammed the door so hard that pictures fell off the wall, and it would startle me each time, and then it was pretty easy to access that anger after that." You laugh, remembering the time you accidentally did raise your voice because she scared the shit out of you. 

"And did the director tell her to do that?"

"No, she just did it! And Peter, the director, was just sitting there like," You cross your arms over your chest and lean back in the chair, copying the famous Peter Jankowski slouch, and nod, pretending to chew gum. "And like, that's it! Which is great! You always want a director that will let you try things, but I was given no warning." Jimmy laughs at the story and seamlessly transitions into a commercial break. 

The rest of the interview goes smoothly, with you promoting the movie and even playing a game where you had to answer New York City trivia facts. Appearances like this can actually be really fun when they're done right, and you always have a good time when you're on the Tonight Show. As you're leaving the stage, Jimmy tells you that you and Joel have to get dinner with him and his wife the next time you're in the city, and you agree, knowing that it will probably never happen. 

You're excited to see what Joel will say about how things went, but when you go backstage, he's nowhere to be found. You don't find him immediately in the wings where you left him or in your dressing room. You almost ask the PA if she saw him leave, but she's dealing with five million other things, and you doubt she would've noticed even if he did. You furrow your brows as you fish your phone from your purse and type out a quick message to Joel.

Hey! Where are you? I just got done.

The message delivers even though his phone is on Do Not Disturb. You think about calling him but figure he might've just gone back to the hotel room before you. Paparrazi gets pictures of you leaving the studio alone and shouts questions at you, wanting to know where Joel is. You don't answer. You just get in the car and try to get back to the hotel as fast as possible. Truthfully, you're a little embarrassed. You looked around for him like a lost puppy backstage, and now you're just dutifully returning to the hotel to look for him. It also doesn't help that you were photographed arriving with him but not leaving with him. You can feel Melanie's migraine from here.

When you scan into the hotel room, all of Joel's stuff is gone. His clothes, shoes, and even his razor have all disappeared. You were there for an hour, maybe less, and he just left? Your phone buzzes in your purse, and you quickly pull it out to see a text from Joel.

Ellie had an emergency. On the first flight back. I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you.

You sigh, plop down on the now too-big bed, and kick off your heels.

No worries. Take care of your baby. I'll see you when I get back.

Thank you. I owe you.

You don't owe me anything, Super Dad. Just text me when you get home, and keep me updated. Let me know if you or Sarah need anything.

He starts typing something before deleting it and then typing again. For a moment, you two stare at the same screen, waiting for the other to say something even though he's at the airport and you're in an empty hotel room. Your heart clenches in your chest as he types and types and types, just for the bubble to disappear as fast as he did.  

#one for the money two for the show #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #tlou au #the last of us au #joel miller x female reader #rockstar!joel miller #rockstar!joel

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine Aemond loves you… but thousands die because of it.

Warnings: incest, explicit smut, drama, angst; long post with FLUFFLY ending.

***

You are only a year older than him, the oldest daughter of Queen Alicent and King Viserys; the one whom your mother fights to have your right as the next Queen of Westeros acknowledged by your uninterested father; the one whom he comes after every day, every night.

Where he is the moon, you are the sun. Where he is the universe, you are the stars. One gravitates towards the other every time. This is no exception, but the rule.

Aemond, bad reputed as he already is in his late teenager years, is very good to you. Loyal, some would maliciously whisper, like a famine lover. But you don’t give ear to such rumors. These are nonsenses… and besides your mother is planning to marry him away. To whom, you do not know.

But to say you don’t care is to indulge in lies. Where he goes, you follow. Like this afternoon, for example.

He is outdoors, practicing with his sword. Your eyes glue at the perfection with which he swings it, blocking Ser Criston’s blow. You can tell he is demanding, unaccepting anything that is not concise.

You take notice of his black weather, how well it shapes his built muscles, a sight that warms your body. Sensing a pair of eyes watching him, little surprises him when the prince captures the owner of such a stare.

“Sister!”, he quickly leaves aside his training to engulf you in his tender embrace. As he buries his face in your neck, smelling your scent, which reminds him of sweet red roses, Aemond sighs in content. Reluctantly, though, he parts the embrace. “Shouldn’t you be elsewhere?”

“Away of my favourite companion? No, I don’t think so”, you smile the brightest when seeing a faint shade of pink color his cheeks. You stroke his face. “I pray not to distract you out of your practices, my sweet.”

“Hardly”, he whispers, taking your hands and pressing a kiss in each. “I missed you. Has mother been rough on you again?”

Aemond sees through you, as you look away, hoping not to let it too clear the troubles you’ve been having with the Queen. Alicent constantly compares you with Helaena and even Rhaenyra, not to add she has no patience with what she judges as laziness and your melancholy.

“Not really, no”, but your embargoed voice breaks the exhaustion that has been plagued your soul.

“Y/Nickname…”

He holds you tight, caressing your back. As his hands tangle in your lose silver locks, the prince comforts you. Similar pain, similar fate, there is too much that links one to the other.

“Oh it’s nothing that we are not used to, right?”, you say, dismissing the concern he casts you in a long gaze.

This tension with the family is not new to neither of you; it is in fact an element that brought you close to him and him to you. But as he rubs his thumb over your wrist, you ignore the longing in his body and the desire in his eyes, so obvious to all, completely oblivious at how he reciprocates your sentiments.

“I was wondering if we should perhaps go to a ride today. I feel as if we need it”, you smile at him, possessed by a sweet temper that melts his pride.

“As much as I want to”, says the prince, gently touching your face, “we have a bloody dinner expecting us.”

You sigh heavily, but you agree.

“I promise, though, that I will visit you tonight”, adds Aemond, nearly touched by despair upon seeing a flash of disappointment in your eyes.

“Very well”, you should not feed expectations, but when he smiles at you, your knees go weak. “I will be waiting.”

***

You sit at a chair before a mirror in your nightgown, hair loose falling like a cascade of silver locks. You brush them by the time a knock on the door startles you, getting you out of your thoughts.

Dismissing a maid of company when suspecting who comes late an hour, you know you are being prudent—-what if it’s not him? Thankfully he is.

Taken aback by your handsomeness is lord Aemond. The reputed bad prince looks mesmerized at your sight, his eyes staring wide at your boobs. You blush, disconcerted before his gaze but pleased for the same reason, glad to have captured his interest

But for now lust is cast aside when you hold in your arms, welcoming him gladly—the same way you used to as children, when more than often he went to your private quarters to sleep by your side whenever he had nightmares.

“You are here”, you muse gleefully, bringing him close inside.

“I am”, Aemond smiles. “When have I failed in being true to my word, especially where it comes to you?”

You beam at his wording, a balsam for your heart. As you two sit at your bed, fingers intertwine and locks are gazed.

“I could have never asked for someone else to look after me so well as you do, Aemond. I was remembering the other day when you brought me to Sunfyre. It felt so well. You freed me.”

He puts a lock behind your ear, a quiet smile dragging slowly on his lips.

“You may transmit shyness to others but I see the iron underneath your beauty, Y/N. Your wit is as captivating as your lilac eyes, or your red lips.”

You blush, looking away, but he holds your chin.

“I am no liar.”

“Aemond…”

Could it be?

An unposed question that doesn’t make to your tongue. The prince, however, knows it.

How to answer that, though? He places himself now behind your back and you slip to the comfort of his strong arms, snaking in your waist. You rest your head against his chest, your breathing synchronized to his.

There is no need of words.

Not now anyway.

You carefully lean to blow away candle, but it’s when darkness rises that cats come out to play.

*

“How are you feeling?”, Aemond asks after a while, and his hot breath in your ear gives you shivers.

Shivers that he feels. It is as if he needed physical evidence that he is not alone in his affections. Innocently he parts your legs with his knee and very gently presses it against your womanhood.

Somehow he feels your fever.

“I… I feel better”, your voice comes out as a moan when he continuously rubs his knee against your core. Doesn’t really help you how his arms conveniently rest over your hardening nipples. You press your hips against his manhood in response. “What a day we had, uh?”

Aemond chuckles lightly at your efforts in trying to act as if nothing is happening there. He plays with your hair all the whilst he slips his other hand over your nipple. Feeling it hard under the cloth almost makes him gasp.

Fuck, he curses internally.

“When don’t we have a good day in this family?”, he snorts, pleased to find you chuckling, though detecting some tension in your short cut breath.

“Aemond…”, you eventually decide not to ignore how his hand is slowly lifting your nightgown. It doesn’t help how he stops rubbing his knee against your womanhood, getting you familiar with an unknown ache that doesn’t cease to torment you now.

“Yes?”

Aemond gently places a kiss between the line that separates your jawline to your neck.

“Tell me and I’ll stop”, he whispers against your ear, finding no resistance in removing your gown. “Tell me I am not alone in this, Y/Nickname.”

He knows how to awake the dragon in you. Tired of fighting the urge to have him, you turn slightly to let him take away your gown of your body, before diving into his lips, burning in high fever.

The prince moans, sensing a bone as a result of your intensity grip over him. The way with which your naked body moulds to his, how your hand boldly moves from his belly down to his cock.

A kiss like fire tearing each other in flames. A fight for dominance in perfectly synced tongues, but of course Aemond comes over you, biting your bottom lip, chewing it with grace before letting it slip to explore your neck.

“Love me”, you beg him. “Deflower me!”

The prince groans in response, skin on skin now, he now shivers upon hearing new sounds coming out of your mouth. Nothing tastes better than cupping each nipple of your firm, round breasts. The way you moan loud is a positive indicator he is following the right path.

Though he’d had only one carnal experience—all thanks to a bet made with his younger brother Aegon—, nothing compares to the delights he experiments with you.

Spreading your legs to let him fit in between, you arch your back as despair crawls upon your skin the moment his tongue and teeth play with your tits. Your roll your eyes, hands messing with his hair… and what to say of this new sentiment when his hand finds way to your clit and with two fingers, you gasp louder?

“Aemond!”, you whimper. “Aemond, please!”

Darkness involves you, but there is no need to see when one knows the other so damn well. You burn and he burns with you.

“Come to me”, he commands, all the whilst going low with his mouth. “Come, Y/N!”

His mouth promptly rises to yours when you are about to be so loud. As your legs tremble and shake, you now share his bluntness surprise him with the turning tables.

Your lips are now going lower to his belly, fingers digging across his skin. Aemond’s breath is short cut and his naughty words reach your ears only to arouse you further—if possible.

“Oh, Lady. I dwelt in long nights at the thought of your lips so close to my skin, working wonderfulness to repent me of my skins. My own touch is not enough when compared to yours. Burn me, consume me. Set my soul alight…”

His words die just as you take his length throbbing into your mouth. The sounds you make at having it in your way make Aemond painfully lustful for you.

He slowly parts his legs, riding your face the way you want him to do. You feel so indecent, a sinner condemned for sure—but loving him feels right, and you have no remorse in doing what so far only reason conceived through forbidden readings.

You lick it, you bite it gently, and the sounds he makes give you goosebumps. You want more of him, you give your best, letting him be your guide.

Little surprise there is when you feel it.

When you hear it.

When you know it.

And you swallow all of it.

That night, you are no longer a damsel. Aemond Targaryen has finally reclaimed your body and soul at last—like you’ve dreamt to.

***

You try to disguise the pain in your legs the next day. Worse is, though, to find ways to cover the bruises he left in your skin.

Praise the Gods, he assigned his mark on you. But yet here you are.

Acting in secrecy… for now.

“You must be married right away”, considers the queen at the moment her children are gathered for the morning meal. “Y/N, Rhaenyra has proposed the union of our houses. You are going to be betrothed to Jacaerys Velaryon.”

“No!”, you protest all the whilst Aemond closes his wrist and slams the table. “I shall not espouse a bastard, Mother!”

Otto Hightower, there present, seems delighted to discover there is more in you than dissociating in familiar gatherings.

“Y/N, this is the best for our family…”

“The girl has a point though”, says Otto. “If she is going to be the next queen, a bastard must not father the next line of kings…”

“I do not want the bloody crown!”, you sigh heavily. “Give it to Aemond!”

“I would marry her, in fact.”, says the prince, making you blush and surprising the others for his blunt speech.

“And you will, and you will!”, remarks Helaena, excited.

“How, if you are associated with Alys Rivers?”, snorts Aegon, making you raise your eyebrows. “How considerate of dumping your whore, Aemond.”

“Spreading false rumors are very typical of you, brother”, he hisses quietly.

Alicent raises her hands to her hair, as if in silent prayer for patience. It’s when Otto says:

“I detest to be the one to remind you that you are no longer children to act like ones. Dutiful you are, Aemond, and we are thankful for it, but we need to consider other elements in Y/N’s arrangement.”

“Targaryen tradition should be an excellent argument in why we are doing what we are doing.”

“I think best Jacaerys Velaryon to marry Y/N”, says Queen Alicent, probably tired of her offspring bickering than actually reasoning in favor of the match.

Or maybe she wants a genuine reapproach to her stepdaughter after years of cold war.

Her decision is not welcomed by all. You fall back in your gloomy mood and Aemond storms outside.

Silence falls before Helaena muses:

“Love always comes with a price.”

***

You barely have the chance to speak to Aemond since the Queen’s delusional decision in arranging your marriage to a bastard under the pretense of aligning her house to the Velaryon in order to put an end to this rising rivalry.

It doesn’t really help that your body aches—not only due to what happened the day before, but because it misses him in every way—, but circumstances begin to separate each other.

The expected dinner is a first. Your father is holding together his family in an attempt to show unity. He couldn’t be more wrong.

“You are looking beautiful”, says Aemond when seeing you at last.

Today you are dressing a long sleeved gown in green that shows some cleavage. Your hair is tied in a fashion braid and your delicate features are reinforced by Helaena’s make up.

“For the love of Gods”, murmurs Aegon, “find yourselves a bed already.”

“How insensitive of you saying so”, says Helaena. “If you have not the ability to love, let others do so in peace.”

You and Aemond could have not been any redder.

*

“I’ll make you my wife”, he vows. “No matter what.”

“Even so… I must say a name hammers in my head since yesterday”, you whisper back as you take the seat he pulls for you to take.

Aemond gives you a long glance.

“Y/N… you are not honestly referring to what Aegon said, are you? We are not together any longer together for a long while now.”

The thread is interrupted though when king Viserys begins his speech. You look at him not like your father—he always neglected you, never got interest in you as a person, hence why you do not understand why your mother thinks proper to make you the first queen to reign in Westeros. Even that…he refused you.

You look away, pretending to focus in the wine that colors your glass. You start to disassociating when Aemond holds your fingers underneath the table, a firm gesture that reminds you that you are not alone in your resentment.

The rest of the dinner goes awkwardly well—everyone plays their role just fine. Until that is Jacaerys invites you for a dance. If he does on purpose, you cannot say—but you miss the glare on Aemond’s face.

Partially moved by the disapproval of being told of Aemond’s old liaison with Alys Rivers, you stand and to his horror you take the invitation. But also it feels good to see jealousy behind his good eye as you two start dancing.

“It comes to my understanding we are marrying soon”, says Jacaerys to break the ice.

“Indeed”, you say rather coolly, though you smile benignly at him. “Linking our houses for peaceful purposes. How delightful.”

Jacaerys furrows his eyebrows, perhaps mistaking your remark with sarcasm. He opts perhaps to see this is not the case. And maybe it is not.

“Duty must always stand before sentiments.”

“It is the way”, you nod. “We aim to serve, even if these ties suffocate us.”

“It only does if one isn’t resigned”.

Music never before sounds so melancholic to your ears. But here you are. Dancing with someone who long ago ceased to be a friend, performing for a duty like a dutiful daughter. Being kind above all… because few have been kinder to you.

Then music comes to an end and you go back to your place. The king stands, it’s time to retire. When he leaves, scars are left open and blood comes out…

“I would like to have a toast”, so Aemond, in silence for so long, rises abruptly with a glass of ale in hand.

You raise your eyebrows significantly, unable to perceive the subtle change of behavior. It’s usually Aegon the teaser, never him.

All pair of eyes are set on this tall, paled silver haired prince, whose good eye shines mischief, showing resentment for past events, never buried, always resurrected.

The quiets are usually the worse. It is known.

“…for these three Strong boys.”

It is the start of a new hell. Jacaerys doesn’t take it easy, and as predicted he and Aemond get in a fight. Your eyes are wide and you abruptly stand, not believing in the scene that runs before your eyes.

Your heart skips a beat when your uncle Daemon puts and end to it. No need words, just his presence is enough to placate the violence Aemond brought to table.

You frown, but refusing to participate, you slip through the night. No one notices, though Aemond does. But this night he doesn’t come for you.

***

Where does all it begin to go wrong? You cannot tell. When Aemond comes at you again, a week has passed by since that bloody dinner. Your father is dying and there are machinations to put you on throne.

Part of you ignores it. But another is prepared for it.

Aemond sees you at courtyard, dressed like a damsel but with the look of a warrior. Silk green gown falls over your curves, your silver locks are tied in two braided buns at each side of your head but your eyes, fierce and empty, stare at the blade you hold with your delicate fingers.

“Y/N…”, his voice is brought to your ears like a summer breeze: welcoming, warming, familiar. But it also startles you.

“You disappeared”, you accuse him, holding tight the blade, not minding feeling the iron gently cut your skin.

“I disappointed you, didn’t I?”, his steps anxiously short the distance and he takes away the sword. “Don’t be imprudent, Y/N. Look at your hand.”

Before you protest, he takes you by your wrist to a fountain nearby and there he merges your palm to it. You flinch, but he holds you still.

“I should have not brought you any further disappointments”, says the prince, especially pained when finding tears coming to your eyes.

“Did you go after her?”

Aemond raises his eyebrows at your question. Insecurity has long found solace in your broken heart. He frowns, before removing his eyepatch. You blink at such exhibition.

“Let me expose me to you. I am fiercely loyal to you, Y/N. I fucking love you. Didn’t I show you that night?”

And then his arms are tight around your waist, his face, his lips brushing against your chest. You stroke his hair, swallowing your tears.

“I love you too. I couldn’t have asked for a better man to keep by my side, but what else would I think when you left for seven bloody days?!”

“I needed space”, he raises his eyebrows, resting his chin over your left boob. “Here I am, though, like a beggar. You don’t deserve that bastard, Y/N. I shall not let you marry him.”

“What control do we possess before our fates?”, you sniff.

He presses a kiss over your skin, giving you goosebumps, before making you sit on his lap. Little does he care that you two are in public. Less so when he kisses your neck up to your earlobe, pleased to make you moan, before he holds your chin.

When your eyes meet, Aemond speaks:

“Wait for me tonight, will you?”

A shadowy smile crosses upon your lips.

“I shall, beloved.”

So sacred, so devoted, this faithful man binds his destiny to yours when he kisses you calmly.

***

When he meets you punctually by midnight, you cannot help that you have a presentment regarding your carnal liaison with this man you love deeply with the waters of your soul. What if you conceive?

But when he stops by in his courtly robes, your concerns are easily dismissed, brushed off your thoughts.

“My love”, urgently he comes to reclaim what’s his by right. “I have missed you.”

“As have I”, you kiss him hungrily, not minding the conflagration that flares over your skin as you desperately help him toss away his robes. “I ached for you, Aemond.”

“Did you?”, he groans when feeling your lips against his neck, close to his chest as your hand strokes his manhood. “Ah, damn it! This feels good!”

“I couldn’t even walk for a day or two”, your tongue leaves circles traces around his chest, all the whilst your fingers wrap around him, doing circular moves up and down.

The idea of ruining you arouses him to such an extent that you already feel his precum at his tip.

“Couldn’t you?”, he leans his head against the wall. “Oh, what have I done?”

It’s when your gaze crosses his. Aemond smiles when seeing his arousal is yours too, how sensual you look at taking his pleasure yours. But he is surprised when you slide to your knees.

“Y/N…”

“Let me reward you, my prince”, your sweet voice is like a melody to his ears, and the moment your mouth meets his manhood… Fire consumes him.

***

You are still fast asleep when your mother’s maid finds you, indecently embraced in your brother’s nude body. But she is not entirely surprised by what she witnesses, considering how it’s been obvious how one always loved the other…

Nevertheless now time urges her to be the deliverer of bad news. You are barely opening your eyes when she says:

“My lady, your mother is after you. Now.”

“What does she want?”, you try going back to sleep, not minding you’ve been caught.

But the woman is too anxious to give you peace.

“Your father, the king, has died.”

This is enough to let your eyes open widely and even Aemond is awaked by these words.

“What does this mean?”, you shouldn’t have asked but panic steps in.

“You are queen now”, says Aemond, tossing away blankets and dressing his clothes. “Thank you, Madame. We are meeting our mother soon.”

You too stand and begin to dress, but your body shakes at what Aemond tells you.

“No!”, you turn at him. “I am no Queen! I do not wish the crown our father has refused me! It’s Rhaenyra’s!”

“Y/N…”, Aemond sighs. “Come on, now.”

“I have no capacity to uphold it! No! Tell our mother I am no queen!”, you don’t realize how loud you are and what fuss you are making until he holds you in his arms.

“Don’t say these things”, says the prince. “I will crown you!”

“No!”, you burst in tears. “I do not want it! Take it for yourself, but…”

“No!”, and he is firm now, holding your face so you look at him. “Quit with this nonsense. You are the eldest daughter. Yes, I would like to be king myself, seeing myself as better fit for the role than Aegon. Not you, though. Never mind our father does not acknowledge you. Fuck it! I believe in you, I’d bet my life for you!”

“Don’t say this. Your life is too precious for me…”, you whisper, eyes closing before the kiss he presses on your temple.

“Come, my sweet. Let me amend past disappointments. Come now.”

You don’t acknowledge his speech, but soon you find yourself walking side by side to him. When you enter the throne chambers, all eyes are on you.

Helaena rushes to your side, curtsying first before engulfing you in her embrace. You swallow a sob, but she hears your whispers:

“I’m scared, Laena.”

“Don’t be. Face the storms and what happens next will be endured.”

You nod, thought uncertain of how to proceed.

Then Aegon follows. He bows and says:

“I wouldn’t like to be in your shoes right now.”

Him, you ignore. Then comes your mother with your grandfather by your side.

“Child you are no more. My sweet girl…”, she ignores how closely your arm is tied to Aemond’s before kissing your cheeks. “You are now queen.”

“I do not want it”, you protest, much to her dismay. “This is Rhaenyra’s crown, not mine!”

“This is yours by right and I’ll tell you why”, says Otto mechanically. “Westeros does not want to be ruled by bastards. The major proof of it is when the Gods put you right here where you must be. Do not forsake your duty, Y/N.”

Little by little your reluctance is melted away. Aemond then turns at you, on his knees before you.

“My queen, lady of the Seven Kingdoms, I give you my heart and loyalty. No one shall claim otherwise.”

Seeing how silent you are, in spite of the tears rolling out of your eyes, it’s Otto’s voice who prevails the general will:

“Long live her Grace, Y/N…” and he lists all the titles that are irrevocably tied to you now.

***

Cut from marble, dressed in silver and gold, you cross the multitude of knighted men who form a corridor for you with their swords unsheathed up in the air.

The High-Sparrow stands above every royal family. Soon a scepter is given to you hold and a crown is placed over your head. The weight of it could smash you, but you stand strong.

You side-glance towards Aemond. You wish this was his instead, but the devotion coming at you convinces duty must not be placated.

“Long may live Queen Y/N, first of her name!”, professes the religious man and as you stand the crowd goes wild.

You are queen now. And your reign has just begun.

***

You watch from the window as clouds come to hide away sun. A bad omen, you judge. Behind you, the first council of the new reign is formed with Otto Hightower as Hand of the Queen. Your mother, the dower queen, also attends it.

Oblivious to all, you miss his company. Aemond has been sent to the seat of Baratheons, at Storm’s End, in order to secure support for your crown.

You hate how fragile this makes your position, how this new beginning feels wrong. And yet, here you stand, foreseeing a storm. As if to confirm it, you hear thunderstorms.

“You shouldn’t have sent him to Storm’s End”, you muse, forced to go back to your seat.

“This isn’t the time nor the moment to miss Aemond, Y/N. Like him, you should focus in what matters.”

“Do you think Rhaenyra will accept well that I have replaced her?”, you snort at her.

“By marrying her son, perhaps this is prevented it!”

“I am not taking a bastard as king consort!”

“For someone who refused to be queen until two days ago you are strongly decided in what to do with the power to you bestowed”, muses Otto, entertained.

“Well, grandsire, please forgive me for not willing to be further controlled by others!”, you snap at him. “Damned this be!”

Damned this looks indeed, for barely the council has come to an end, rain begins to fall… and a very disturbed Aemond shows up.

“Aemond!”, you’d gladly run to him, but something about his face makes you stand where you are.

Alicent, sensing something’s gone terribly wrong, dismisses other councilors. There is only family there present. The prince avoids their gazes, ashamed for what was done—at the same time… you can also tell he’s changed.

“What have you done, my boy?”, the dowager queen breaks the silence, moving to where he is and thus forcing him to look at her. “What have you done, Aemond?”

“I did not mean to”, he whispers. “It wasn’t intentional… but it’s too late now. I cannot change what was done.”

“Oh, Gods”, you rush to your mother’s side, trying to help her sit.

And without waiting to extend this unbearable silence, you hear what is to shock them all—you included.

“Lucerys is dead. I killed him.”

That being said a thunder strongly hits the ground not too far from Red Keep.

An announcement of war.

You just know.

***

“I cannot see you anymore, Y/N”, Aemond’s words break you in tears. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Don’t do that to me!”, you cry out and he feels the blows you hit against his chest. “Don’t you dare doing that, Aemond Targaryen!”

“What else can I do? Look the path I’ve taken! And I feel no remorse over it!”, his voice breaks despair of a long broken soul.

You are partially shocked by his words, his guiltless admission. This is a side you never thought finding in him. It partially frightens you, but then…

Aemond is now on his back at you, tormented by his demons, pounding over his flesh. But you move to where he is, having made your decision.

“Look at me”, and he does.

“Be with me.”

“What? Have you heard what I said?”

“You will be my king or else the crown is Rhaenyra’s for good”, you speak firmly.

Aemond laughs nervously, but your eyes remain in intent stare.

“I mean it.”

“How can you take a monster as me as your husband, Y/N?”

“You are not. I take you as who you are, a faithful, loving man.” You side smirk at him. “I cannot conceive a world, less so a reign, where you are not part of it.”

“I’ve brought you many disappointments. I’ve taken a path you don’t want for me, I…”

You lean on your toes and, holding his face against yours, you kiss his lips intently. Slowly, Aemond’s castle is brought to ruins and his arms soon lock you in.

“I love you. My life is yours, my queen.”

“Make me your wife, Aemond. This is all I ask.”

When looking down at you, he knows he cannot refuse you anything at all.

“Very well then. I know where to go. Take your better robes, my queen. We are marrying tonight.”

You smile, pleased to have your way at long last.

***

No war, no crown, no reign comes at your head when his cock is pumping inside you and his lips are twirling around your pink nipples. No politics, no usurpation daunts your heart, so aligned to his.

“Love me!”, you are a beggar when he is over you, taking the heeds of your body, when you arch your back and have your wrists above your head as he continuously thrusts in you. “Fuck me good, my king!”

As your husband, Aemond gladly complies. He groans loud, proudly taking you as he slides within, interlocking his cock with his hand, intently so.

“It is as my queen commands”, he bites your bottom lip before snaking his tongue in your mouth.

He raises your legs, pushing you below to his body, intertwining both in sync moves. Not until he pursues your lips does he seed you, coinciding with your climax.

“My love, my queen, my woman”, he doesn’t let go of you not even now, rather contemplating this union so sacred to you both.

You turn at him, a smile on your lips. Aemond is mesmerized by how peaceful you look now.

“I bet my life on you”, you whisper against his lips, holding his face with your hands. “Always had, always will.”

There is no need to say further. You two are too attached to turn away now.

***

War has still paved its way to you. A scandal that will bring seven kingdoms to bleed…

“What have you done?”, you hear your mother admonishing you.

You turn at her, impatience already twinkling in your eyes.

“You’ve started this the moment you placed the crown over my head, mother. Don’t make this about me.”

That being said, you walk out. You excused Aemond’s offense, but your mother’s sins cannot be simply be pardoned. These paved your path… of the kind you cannot opt to turn away now.

Tired you may be, with morning sickness worsening as days turn in weeks, but you are too distressed with the possibility of having the capital attacked by the Black partisans.

“You are not flying, Y/N. You must stay here…”

“No, Aemond. I must go. This is not your war to wage. It is also mine.”

The decision is made. But what will it cost?

***

Aemond rushes back in when hearing you’ve been too unwell after facing Baella in what nearly cost your dragon’s life. Sunfyre got wounded, but lived. The same cannot be said of Baella. A victory to your cause, but one that does not come without a heavy price to pay.

Men march on and against your behalf in what seems an endless contending. It is as if you’ve been tossed in the middle of a whirlwind and there you remain.

Once there was hesitation, next came certainty. But where you are now?

It all disappears, every question and doubt are buried in the name of duty. But now you are forced to face a worst battle: the one for your life and yours alone in childbed.

“Where is she?! Where is the Queen?”, he walks in, steps heavy as thunders, echoing in stoned pillars corridors.

Helaena, dutiful like always, is the one to inform him you are in labor now.

“Twins will come, but be careful, Aemond.”

He stops.

“What are you saying? What do you see?”, he almost takes her by her shoulders.

“Vulnerability will come in due time”, it’s all she can tell.

For now, this says little. For now what matters for the rogue prince is that he’d wage thousand wars to see you well.

Like Helaena’s predictions, though, there comes a pair of twins robust and well.

“My Gods. I was worried”, Aemond whispers, rocking you in his arms, looking down as you insist breastfeeding your children.

There is peace. Long lasting peace for the moment. Despite the pained conscience for tearing Westeros apart, all else matters not before the prince you love and rose as king, before the children you bore him that rise now as your heirs.

“I love you”, you tell him.

“I love you too.”

He smiles softly down at you. All is well that ends up well with you.

Definitely worth a bet.

***

• Epilogue.

Aemond is holding Jaehaera in his arms all the whilst Jaehaerys is playing with his cousins. The children of Aegon and Helaena, named Maegor and Visenya, are his best companions.

Peace seems to settle—especially with Rhaenyra’s death by poison, and there had been no signs of her offspring nor Daemon to worry over.

For now.

You are relatively popular and accepted by the common folk. Today you are dressed in gold with details in purple, wearing a necklace gifted to you by your husband.

And you are also pregnant again.

“You should rest and not presiding feasts, my sweet”, so tells you Aemond, forehead leaning against yours.

“Nonsense”, you smile warmly at him. “I must celebrate the result of our hardworking. Our family, us…”

“The bet was entirely worthy it”, Aemond smiles and kisses his lips.

“EW daddy!”, Jaehaera protests, making you both chuckle. “Put me down. This is disgusting.”

Aemond scoffs at the little girl.

“I fear I’ve been spoiling you too much, Jaehaera. You know what? Go on and play with your brother and cousins. Daddy needs to chill anyway”.

She pouts instantly.

“But will you still spoil me, won’t you? I still want to hear the story of how you fell in love with mama.”

You blush at what you hear, looking away as if you are a teenager young woman again. Aemond is more than pleased when seeing how after all these years he can still affect you.

“That depends of your behavior, young lady.”

“Daddy!”

“Give me a kiss and I’ll reconsider it.”

She gladly does as requested and Aemond’s good eye follows her daughter, a seven year old, running after her small group of relatives.

“She reminds me of you”, says he, leaning his back against the chair as he spots Queen Alicent looking after her grandchildren. “Sweet disposed, but very willful.”

You laugh heartily before resting your head against his shoulder.

“What would be me without you and our children, my love?”

Aemond smiles quietly, taking your hand to his lips and there pressing a kiss.

“You made a rebel settle down, crowning the son of careful king. What else could I ask of you, my love?”

He spots the same love behind your irises. It is as if there is no witnesses, as if you two are alone.

“I love you, king of my heart.”

#ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #house targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond one eyed #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen edit #prince aemond targaryen #fire and blood vol 1 #Aemond #Targaryen #imagine dragons #I bet my life

[morallyinept]

A full transcribe of PERO TOVAR'S dialogue/lines from the film THE GREAT WALL.

Includes full dialogue, and dialogue from any deleted/additional scenes available.

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to read the dialogue. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

☝🏻Dialogue has been fully transcribed by myself using reference to original scripts (if available), audio subtitles and using my own two ears. Therefore, mistakes can be made, however I have tried to be as fully accurate as I can. If you spot an obvious mistake, please kindly let me know. Where audio is not clear, I have marked with *inaudible* Scenes are separated for ease of reference.

⚠️ Please note: Pero uses a term that could be considered derogatory later on in his dialogue. I have included it so you have the full transcribe, but wanted to put a warning.

FULL SCRIPT DIALOGUE:

We have been riding for six months.

But we survived.

In the West, we would be enemies and I would have to kill you. At least here we have a common goal.

It is the weapon of our dreams. 

Men have sent word that it’s real. 

There’s not much here. 

The magnet. 

Useless. 

It’s all yours. 

Amigo, only you would carry a stupid magnet through the desert. 

Rizzetti won’t make it. The wound is festering. We’ll be dragging a corpse.

For who?

Hill Tribes?

Then what is it?

What was that? 

We need to move!

What the hell for?

__________________

Persistent bastards, aren’t they?

What a long, shitting way to go to die.

Mother of God! 

I have no need to go down fighting.

I haven’t surrendered in a while, eh. 

Of course, my friend. Where you go, I follow. You’re doing such a great job already. 

__________________

And they don’t look happy to see it. 

Have you lost your mind?

I must confess, this is not my favourite plan. 

Fantastic.

__________________

Well…

Are you killing us, sister? Two lost travellers?

(In Spanish) What’s happening here? Is this bitch going to kill us? 

If it is death, my dear, we need time to pray. 

I’m trying here. 

Sister, I know a siege when I see one. What comes at you so hard you need a wall like this?

Attack? Tao Tei? What the hell is a Tao Tei?

__________________

The black are the foot soldiers. And the red?

And the blue?

What the hell do they do?

Incredible. 

__________________

They look nervous. It’s a big wall to be so nervous. 

__________________

Do you hear it?

__________________

William, over there. Why isn’t he tied up?

Fight or run?

__________________

William! 

Hey, bitch! 

William. 

What God made those things?

Think they’ll hang us now?

__________________

And did you find it?

He knows where the powder is. 

He needs help getting out?

I didn’t sign up for this. 

Well, all of it. But mostly the monsters. 

Is that the best you’ve got?

__________________

Now?

I want to eat!

Last time didn’t go so good.

How high? 

Turn around

Amigo…

Good luck with that. I want food. 

__________________

I hope not to stay that long. 

Then it is a fair contest.

__________________

My God!

He brings us in, we get us out. 

__________________

What the hell are you doing? We need to be free when the attack comes. How many chances do you think we will get? Be injured. Be Missing. Be a coward. Get out of this. We did enough. 

__________________

He’ll be here. 

We start, and he will find us. 

I’ll find him. 

I can’t go without him.

We need his bow! 

__________________

I’m only saving you so I can kill you myself!

Grab an axe. We’re fighting blind. 

I know what to do. 

Die well, brother. 

What the hell are you doing?

__________________

You feel good, huh? Maybe you sing a little song, eh? I will join you. We can sing together how you saved the grateful chinos. 

I see black powder. I see a man forget his friends. 

What goes nowhere is you. You’ll never get what you want from this. You think they see you as some kind of hero? A man of virtue? Maybe you can fool them but I know what you are. You know what you are. A thief, a liar… and a killer. You can never undo the things you have done. And you will never be anything.

Good to see you again, Amigo. 

__________________

No. 

I don’t. 

The time they spend killing him is time they are not chasing us. 

__________________

Is it safe?

I thought you said it was safe. 

You’re here. 

Ballard has planned well. Getting out is easy. There’s a gate, 20 miles west. We dodge the Hill Tribes… we can make it. 

They need more than us. These people are doomed. 

Brother, please.

Amigo, after all the blood and cold and pain, with this black powder in our saddlebags, we win. You come with me. 

William…

__________________

It’d take a lot more than that.  

__________________

Come on. Hyar! 

Which way? Left or right? 

No! No! Bastard! 

__________________

A little slow. You're a hero, after all. 

You seem pleased with yourself. And what are they giving you for your troubles? A bag of gold? A victory parade along the top of the wall?

Well, congratulations. 

So, what is this? You’re here to rub my nose in it?

And the time before that, I saved your life. 

Please tell me you chose the powder. 

I don’t even know you anymore. 

__________________

I’ll be inside. Don’t leave without me. 

I heard that. 

__________________

Are you sure you don’t want to go back?

__________________

DELETED SCENES:

Yes.

There’s not a saddle made he cannot ride. 

__________________

Black powder is real and can be ours. He has a plan. 

__________________

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

#pedro pascal #pero tovar #pedro pascal characters #pero tovar the great wall #the great wall #PPCU #Pero tovar dialogue

[kckt88]

Drowning Inside You IV

Summary:

Aemond and Valaera settle into their new lives on Driftmark.

-Features an Aemond POV

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Warning(s): Mini Time Skip, Inner thoughts, Language, Kissing, Mild Angst, Possessive Behaviour, Child Birth, Arguement.

Word Count: 4339

Author Note: An Alpha/Omega Story.

P.S - Some Scenes/Dialogue from Dynasty has been reused.

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“You will die screaming in flames just like your father did. Bastards”

“My father’s still alive”

“She doesn’t know does she? Lord Strong”

Aemond stared down the dark passageway and took a deep breath.

This was where it happened. Where I lost my eye.

Many weeks had passed since Aemond, Valaera and their pups had moved to Driftmark, and it had taken just as many weeks before Aemond had summoned enough courage to venture into this particular passageway.

Valaera had offered to come with him, but this was something that Aemond needed to do on his own.

The passageway was dark and cold. It almost seemed like it was endless.

As Aemond took a few steps into the darkness, he realised how much things had changed since that night.

Aemond thought of Valaera as he continued down the passage.

His sweet Omega, the mother of his children and the love of his life.

She had left her mark, permanently etched onto Aemond’s skin. Even before they were mated.

“Maybe your cousins could find you a pig to ride. It would suit you”.

Claiming Vhagar on the day of her previous rider’s funeral perhaps wasn’t the best idea, but he wanted so badly to have a dragon of his own.

His cradle egg had never hatched, and he always felt like the odd one out.

Always on the receiving end of his brothers jokes.

But Vhagar, saw something in him that night. It wasn’t just him that claimed her. She claimed him in return.

He was always meant for the sky. Sure, Vhagar was often grumpy and liked her sleep, but when they were soaring together in the clouds, he knew she felt it too.

Their bond.

The day he claimed her, was the day he found the missing part of his soul.

He wasn’t her first rider. But he would most likely be her last.

Too think one day he would be without Vhagar.

No. Not yet. Maybe they could die together. Dragon and rider bound forever.

Aemond shook his head, he didn’t want to think of death. Only life.

At last, he had made it to the end of the passage. He would never need to come down here again. But it was something he just had to do. For himself.

To finally make peace.

Aemond opened the heavy door and smiled as he was greeted by Valaera and their pups.

“Everything ok?” asked Valaera as she placed Vaella in her father’s arms.

“It’s more than ok Issa dōna” (my sweet).

“So, what’s the plan for today?”

“Well, seen as we are both free of our duties for today, I would like to spend time with my family” replied Aemond sweetly.

“Come. Helaena is waiting for us on the beach” whispered Valaera.

Aemond nodded and followed Valaera as she headed towards the beach. Vhalarr of course still fast asleep in his mother’s arms.

“U-Uncle Aemy,” cried a sweet voice.

“Daena” exclaimed Aemond as he bent down to hug his niece.

“Found a shell. Look” cooed Daena as she opened her hand and showed her uncle the brightly coloured shell.

Aemond moved back to observe what Daena was showing him and he smiled.

“That’s a fantastic one. Another for your collection” mused Aemond as he sat beside his sister in the sand.

“Mama said I can make them into a necklace” gasped Daena as she flopped into Helaena’s arms.

“I’m sure uncle Aemy would love to help” muttered Valaera.

Aemond glared at his Omega as she sat next to him.

I hate that nickname and she knows it. I only tolerate it for the sake of my niece.

Just wait until we are alone my sweet mate, I will make you regret teasing me.

Almost as if she could read his thoughts, Valaera slowly turned to him and placed a delicate kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t worry Alpha. You can spank me later” whispered Valaera.

Did she just? Yes, she did. My naughty Omega. I’ll spank her so good later.

“So, brother. How are you finding Driftmark so far?” asked Helaena.

“Better than the Red Keep” muttered Aemond.

“You were trapped there. But here you will grow into a beautiful flower” exclaimed Helaena happily as she took hold of Vaella.

“Aemond. A beautiful flower?” laughed Baela.

“I’d rather be a beautiful flower than a measly weed” retorted Aemond.

“Who are you calling a weed?” snapped Baela.

“You. You’re the weed” exclaimed Aemond.

“Oh, here they go again” muttered Valaera as Aemond and Baela began bickering back and forth and trading insults with one another.

“Best just let them get on with it” said Helaena as she began cooing at Vaella.

Initially Valaera was a little worried how Baela would react to Aemond living on Driftmark, but some awkwardness in the beginning the two of them actually got along. Most of the time.

Baela and Aemond regularly indulged in insults and small arguments. Aemond claimed it was some form of bonding between Alpha’s but to Valaera they just looked like squabbling siblings.

“Yeah, well you smell like dragon shit”.

“Well, I do ride a dragon and if I smell then so do you” quipped Aemond.

“So, Helaena how is your spider colony coming along?” asked Valaera.

“Very well. Baela found me a black widow”.

“Aren’t they poisonous” gasped Valaera.

“Yes, but they only bite as a last resort. Respect them and they respect you” replied Helaena.

“I’ll bear that in mind” muttered Valaera.

I don’t like spiders. But I won’t tell Helaena.

Suddenly Vhalarr let out a high-pitched cry.

“I-Is he ok?” asked Aemond.

“He’s fine. Just hungry” said Valaera as she loosened her dress and held Vhalarr to her breast.

“Are you two finished bonding?” asked Helaena.

“Yes sweetling” whispered Baela.

“Pass me a bucket” mocked Aemond as he pretended to be sick.

“Says you. Oh, Valaera Jorrāelagon hen issa glaeson, Issa prūmia, Issa dōna ābrazȳrys” laughed Baela (Love of my life, my heart, my sweet wife).

“Shut up” snapped Aemond.

“Maybe just be quieter when your bedding your Omega,” said Baela.

“Or maybe they should be more discreet when they have sex in the library”.

“Helaena” gasped Valaera.

“And the gardens or the beach” added Baela smirking.

“Baela” snapped Valaera, her cheeks-tinged red.

“Honestly Valaera, I’m surprised you’re not pupped again the amount of sex you two have”.

“This conversation is not happening” grumbled Valaera as she looked over at Aemond who was trying to hide a smirk.

The audacity. He’s actually proud of it. I can’t believe it.

“Too late Laera. It’s already happened,” laughed Baela.

“Is everything ok?” asked Aemond as he sat on the bed.

“I’m fine” snapped Valaera as she ripped off her dress and threw it to the floor.

“Are you sure about that. I can sense something is wrong” replied Aemond.

“I-I was just a little embarrassed by what Baela said that’s all”.

“Why are you lying to me?” mused Aemond.

“I’m not lying” said Valaera quickly as she ducked behind a privacy screen and began pulling off the rest of her clothes.

“Yes, you are. I know you well enough by now”.

“I need to check on the twins” urged Valaera as she reemerged wearing her night clothes.

“Vhalarr and Vaella are already asleep for the night. Please Laera, talk to me” begged Aemond as he sprang from the bed and took his Omega into his arms.

I can feel it. She’s nervous. Please my sweet tell me what’s wrong.

Valaera seemed to hesitate for a moment, her eyes shining with tears.

“I-I forgot to take the tea and now-“ sobbed Valaera as she buried her face in Aemond’s chest.

“-Your with child” whispered Aemond.

“I’m sorry Alpha, it’s just when Baela made that comment about us, I realised my monthly bleeding is really late” cried Valaera.

“It’s ok. You don’t have to apologize”.

“Y-You’re not angry?” asked Valaera.

“Why would I be angry my sweet, your carrying another pup” whispered Aemond.

“But the twins are only six moons old” sniffed Valaera.

“But they’ll be well over a name day old before the next pup is born. I’m sure we’ll manage, but if you’re not ready for another pup just yet, then I won’t force you” muttered Aemond.

“No. Aemond, I want this pup. I was just a little worried and overwhelmed,” said Valaera.

“I just want you to know that I will support you no matter what. Were in this together, and you know that I’ll be with you every step of the way” replied Aemond.

Forgive me for being silly. I know you’ll be there for me Alpha.

“I love you Aemond. More than anything”

“I love you too my sweet girl. But perhaps on the morrow you should call on Maester Selkin”

Valaera nodded and smiled.

I know I’m with child again. But it will be good to have it confirmed.

“I don’t suppose you fancy a stroll in the gardens?” asked Aemond smirking.

“What, now? I’m in my night clothes”.

“Or mayhaps a visit to the library” said Aemond smirking.

Surely, he’s not suggesting.

Oh my god he is. He’s insatiable. My naughty Alpha.

“Only if we find a more secluded place” replied Valaera blushing.

“For reading?” laughed Aemond.

“Yes Alpha. Reading” said Valaera smiling.

“I wonder if our pup was conceived whilst we were reading?”

“It’s entirely possible” mused Valaera.

“That’s it Princess, keep pushing” encouraged Maester Selkin.

“AEMOND!” screamed Valaera.

“I’m here my sweet” replied Aemond.

“I-I can’t do this,” cried Valaera.

“Yes, you can” exclaimed Aemond as he climbed onto the bed at sat behind Valaera.

“W-What are you doing?” muttered Valaera.

“Lean against me and take my hands” urged Aemond as he sat Valaera between his open legs.

This is better. I can feel my Alpha. He’s here. He’s helping. He’s taking care of me.

“Now, you squeeze my hands as hard as you like” said Aemond.

Valaera was sweaty and exhausted, but she took a deep breath and as the next contraction ripped across her stomach, she pushed.

“FUCK!”

“The head is out Princess, but I need you to stop pushing. The cord is wrapped around the babe’s neck” exclaimed Maester Selkin.

“W-What” cried Valaera in alarm.

“It’s ok. Issa dōna ābrazȳrys. Just breathe” said Aemond (My sweet wife).

After a few moments, the Maester had managed to cut the cord from the babe’s neck and with one last push the babe arrived.

But the room was silent.

“M-My babe?” asked Valaera her hands raised in expectation of receiving her pup.

“Just a moment” replied Maester Selkin as the babe was lifted off the bed.

“What’s happening?” yelled Valaera, her hands still grasping for her babe.

Why is my babe not crying? What’s happening? Please someone.

“Alpha” sobbed Valaera, her entire body shaking.

Aemond could only sit in silence as he watched the Maester try to save his newly born pup.

Valaera began wailing loudly in anguish, as the seconds passed. She couldn’t think of anything except his pup. Not even the pain of the afterbirth swayed her mind away from the quiet bundle in Maester Selkin’s arms.

No. Please. Don’t take my babe. Please I pray to the mother. I pray to the god’s of old Valyria.

Then the sweetest sound in the world echoed around the room.

A shrieking cry.

“A son, Princess” declared the Maester.

Valaera all but snatched the crying babe away from Maester Selkin and sobbed.

“T-Thank you maester” breathed Valaera, the tears streaming down her face.

“Your welcome Princess” replied Maester Selkin.

“H-He’s ok. Aemond, look” gasped Valaera.

Aemond who’s face had been buried in Valaera’s shoulder, let out a sob of relief as he gazed at his crying son.

My son. He’s ok. He’s alive. Thank the gods.

“What shall we call him?” asked Aemond.

“Aemon” whispered Valaera smiling as she gently rocked their new pup.

“A-After me” questioned Aemond in awe.

“There is no other name for him. He is the very image of you,” said Valaera.

He has a full head of silver hair. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much hair on a babe.

But his eyes. They were different.

His pup had one amethyst eye and the other was brown. The exact same shade as his mother.

“He’s so beautiful, his eyes are unlike anything I’ve ever seen” cooed Valaera.

“I’m so proud of you Issa prūmia” (My heart).

“W-We have three pups now” sighed Valaera as she leaned back against Aemond.

“My sweet perfect Omega” praised Aemond as he nuzzled Valaera’s mating mark.

A good Alpha should treasure his Omega. Make her feel special. Make her feel loved.

“Alpha” gasped Valaera as he felt the rush of Aemond’s love and devotion through their bond.

“Would you like you hold your pup?”

“Please” whispered Aemond as he manoeuvred himself away from Valaera and climbed off the bed.

Their pup. They almost lost him. But he’s here. He’s safe. My son.

Aemond cried openly when his Omega placed their tiny pup in his arms.

“A-Are you ok?” asked Valaera her voice laced with concern.

Aemond nodded meekly as his gaze never leaving his precious pup.

"Princess, shall we get you cleaned up?” asked a midwife.

“Papa up” urged Vhalarr eagerly.

“Be careful sweet boy” said Aemond as he helped his son climb onto the bed.

“Mama. Baba” cooed Vhalarr as he nuzzled against his mother.

“That’s right. Vaella my darling come here” exclaimed Valaera.

Vaella shook her head and clung to Aemond, burying her head into his shoulder.

“W-What’s wrong?” asked Valaera.

“Mama no hurt” whispered Vaella.

“I’m ok, I promise” replied Valaera.

“Don’t worry issa dōna tala” muttered Aemond, as he placed Vaella on the bed next to Valaera (my sweet daughter).

“This is your brother Aemon”.

“Aemy” whispered Vaella.

Valaera had to bite her lip to stop her from laughing at the look on Aemond’s face.

“Isn’t he tiny” muttered Valaera softly.

“Gevie” whispered Vaella as she looked at her newborn brother (Beautiful).

“Well done tala” said Aemond proudly.

“Lēkia” exclaimed Vhalarr (Brother).

“H-How did they?” gasped Valaera.

“I’ve been reading to them in our mother tongue. I guess they’ve picked up a few words here and there” declared Aemond smiling widely.

“Avy jorrāelan valzȳrys” whispered Valaera (I love you husband).

Aemond sat on the edge of the bed and placed a gentle kiss on his Omega’s cheek.

“Ao issi vok issa darling” muttered Aemond (You are perfect my darling).

“Mama Zaldrīzes” said Vaella excitedly as a warming chamber was brought into the room (Dragon).

“Syrax brought forth another clutch. Your mother sent three eggs for the children”.

“Vhalarr and Vaella?” asked Valaera.

“They’ve already chosen their eggs” muttered Aemond as he opened the warming pan and showed Valaera the red and gold-tinged egg.

Valaera could sense Aemond’s unease. He feared his children would be without dragons just as he was. He did not want them to feel as though they weren’t enough.

“īlva riñar jāhor emagon zaldrīzoti valzȳrys” (Our children will have dragons husband).

“Nyke gīmigon yn nyke nykeēdrosa worry” replied Aemond. (I know but I still worry).

I have every faith, Alpha. Our children will fly beside you.

“Shall we put Aemon in his crib with his egg?” asked Valaera.

“Yes” Vhalarr and Vaella declared in unison.

“Allow me” said Aemond as he took his son and placed him in the crib beside their bed.

The egg was placed beside Aemon, and they all watched as the tiny babe, reached out and placed his hand on the ridged shell.

“Do not worry my love. Our children are meant for the sky. Just like you”

“I know they are” replied Aemond quietly as he wrapped his arms around Valaera and held her close.

That night, Driftmark was graced with the screeches of three new dragons emerging into the world eager to greet their riders.

Night time at Driftmark was always rather pleasant, the light of the moon, the sound of the sea, and the smell of salt upon the air.

It made Valaera happy; she was glad to call it home.

Not that she hated Dragonstone or Kings Landing, it’s just Driftmark was where she felt close to her father Laenor.

Sure, Valaera knew that Laenor wasn’t her biological father, but he was the man that called Valaera his daughter no matter who sired her.

She missed Laenor terribly at times, especially now she had children of her own.

But she was also glad for Daemon. Of course, the Rogue Prince still terrified her at times, but she knew for all his outwardly bravado Daemon was a good man who loved her mother the way she deserved to be loved.

Rather like Aemond in a way. Valaera had been terrified for many years that her uncle would seek retribution for his eye but here they were happy and in love with three beautiful pups.

Sometimes it’s funny how things work out.

As Valaera entered the chambers, she shared with Aemond she was stopped in her tracks at the sight that greeted her.

Her Alpha sat by the fire, with their six week old pup fast asleep on his bare chest.

“Issa dōna riñītsos” whispered Aemond.(My sweet little boy).

Valaera smiled and simply observed her husband and their son.

“Issa byka zaldrīzes” (My tiny dragon).

Despite his initial fears over what type of father he would be, Valaera could say with absolute certainty that Aemond was an amazing father.

The love he had for their pups was unparalleled.

Most Alpha’s left the upbringing of pups to their Omega mothers. But Aemond had insisted from day one that he be included, whether it was changing their soiled cloths or simply rocking them to sleep.

He was there.

The other half of my heart. My Alpha. My dragon.

“Valzȳrys” whispered Valaera. (Husband).

Aemond turned towards his Omega and smiled. His sapphire eye glistening in the dim light of the fire.

“Is everything ok? Issa prūmia” asked Aemond. (My heart).

“The twins are fast asleep with their dragons, and I’ve had my check up with Maester Selkin”

Aemond raised a curious eyebrow at Valaera’s mention of the Maester.

“He’s declared me healthy and ready to engage in matters of the marriage bed” replied Valaera.

“But-” said Aemond.

“I-I would like to wait just a little bit longer if that’s ok?” muttered Valaera.

“Of course, it is. I will wait for as long as required. The Maester can declare you sufficiently healed, but it’s your body Valaera and you’ll know when you’re ready” replied Aemond.

Could he be any more perfect? What did I do to earn such a wonderful caring Alpha?

“Besides there are other forms of intimacy besides sex” whispered Aemond as he carefully placed Aemon in his crib.

“Such as?” asked Valaera.

“I could hold you in my arms as you sleep, or mayhaps we could simply take a walk on the beach together” suggested Aemond.

“A walk on the beach” muttered Valaera shyly.

“I know how much you like the moon my precious pearl” replied Aemond as he pulled on a loose tunic and slipped his eyepatch over his head.

“I will call Tarla to watch Aemon” said Valaera as she quickly left the room and reappeared a few moments later with the nanny.

“We shouldn’t be gone long” muttered Aemond.

“Of course, my Prince. I will watch over the little one whilst you are gone” replied Tarla.

“Come my sweet” said Aemond as he held out his hand.

Valaera took one last look at their sleeping pup before she took her Alpha’s outstretched hand and the two of them left the room.

Aemond could help but smile to himself as he walked hand in hand with Valaera, the chill of the sea washing over their toes.

“Thank you for this” exclaimed Valaera happily.

“I live to make you happy my sweet. Mayhaps on the morrow I can take you flying on Vhagar, my old girl has been feeling quite restless lately” replied Aemond.

“Has it been a while since you flew together?” asked Valaera.

“I haven’t taken her out since before Aemon was born”.

That was surprising, Aemond never usually went more than a week without flying Vhagar.

“I-Is that because of me?” asked Valaera nervously.

“No, in truth I’ve been feeling a bit strange lately”.

“S-Strange?” mused Valaera curiously.

“Yes, the thought of being separated from you or our pups has me on edge. It’s difficult to explain but since we almost lost Aemon…”

“I understand Alpha” muttered Valaera.

“Things have been better recently; I feel ready to fly again” replied Aemond as he swept Valaera into his arms and held her close, breathing in her sweet scent.

“A raven arrived earlier, from your mother” mumbled Valaera.

“What does the Queen have to say?”

“She asked that we visit Kings Landing and bring the children,” said Valaera.

“No” growled Aemond as he stepped away from Valaera.

“She also writes that your father grows weaker by the day”.

“All the more reason for us to stay away” muttered Aemond.

“Aemond”

“I said no Valaera” snapped Aemond.

“I would like to introduce Aemon to the King before he passes” replied Valaera.

“WHY WON’T YOU LISTEN TO ME” shouted Aemond.

“I-I’m sorry-“ stammered Valaera.

“MY PUPS WILL NOT BE AWAY FROM ME” roared Aemond.

“A-Alpha. Please.” begged Valaera, her head lowered in submission.

The anger poured from her Alpha like acid rain and stung just as deep.

Never had Aemond been so angry. His scent was making Valaera feel sick.

“A-Aemond” sobbed Valaera, the tears streaming down her face.

I will not be separated from my pups. I have to keep them safe. I will not have my mother scorn Aemon for his mismatched eyes. I refuse to have my father pretend to care about my pups. Even if he is sick.

Wait. My Omega. She’s distressed and scared.

Suddenly Aemond seemed to come back to himself, he blinked several times and immediately tried to take the sobbing Omega into his arms.

But Valaera flinched away from him.

“I’m sorry Valaera, I just-“

“N-No. You don’t get to speak to me like that. I-I might be an Omega, but I am your mate, were supposed to be partners” sniffed Valaera wiping her snotty nose on her sleeve.

“Omega please” begged Aemond.

“NO! You stay away from me” shouted Valaera the tears still pouring down her face.

“B-But…” exclaimed Aemond.

“Don’t you bother coming back to our chambers tonight. Find somewhere else to sleep” cried Valaera as she turned on her heel and ran away from her Alpha.

Sleeping alone was the absolute worst.

Aemond tossed and turned on the lumpy unfamiliar bed and whined at the absence of his Omega.

Since they married, they’d never spent a night apart.

The Alpha cursed himself for getting so angry with his Omega. It wasn’t Valaera’s fault at all.

Sitting there holding his wailing Omega in his arms was something Aemond wouldn’t never forget.

That day he’d felt so helpless.

He was the rider of the mighty Vhagar, the largest dragon in the world and all he could do as the Maester tried to save his pup was just sit there.

But what else could I do? I don’t like feeling like this. Please Omega.

Aemond whined again and then he felt it.

His Omega. Valaera was crying out for him through their bond.

Aemond flew off the bed and raced back to his chambers.

Soon he was standing in front of the heavy wooden door. The guardsman on watch simply stepped aside and allowed the Alpha entry.

Valaera was huddled on the bed clutching one of Aemond’s cloaks. Her breath hitching every so often as she cried.

“Alpha” begged Valaera.

Please. Come back. I’m sorry. I need you.

“A-Aemond” howled Valaera.

“I’m here Issa jorrāelagon” replied Aemond. (My love).

“Alpha. Please”

Aemond didn’t need telling twice and he leapt onto the bed, reaching for his Omega.

“Nyke sorry issa dōna. Shijetra issa” said Aemond (I’m sorry my sweet. Forgive me).

“N-Never leave me again. Swear to me. I don’t want to be alone”.

“I swear to you my love that I will never leave you” replied Aemond.

“I don’t like feeling like this. It hurts to be away from you”.

“Then I’ll stay. Forever” muttered Aemond as he rubbed his nose along Valaera’s scent gland.

My Omega. My sweet. Love of my life.

“Kiss me” urged Valaera.

Aemond hesitated for a moment before he surged forward and pressed his lips against Valaera’s.

Valaera almost seemed to merge with Aemond as she pressed herself closer.

Gods, I want her. His scent. It’s driving me crazy.

The Alpha inside him was screaming at him to take his Omega and knot her. But Aemond knew he couldn’t. Not yet.

“V-Valaera. We should stop” gasped Aemond.

“No. I want you” begged Valaera.

“You’re not ready. I won’t be able to stop myself from knotting you. Let me just wrap my arms around you” gasped Aemond.

“O-Ok” muttered Valaera feeling a little dejected, but deep down she knew Aemond was right, no matter if her Omega was begging for her Alpha to take her, she wasn’t physically ready.

“I don’t want us to fight”.

“Me either” replied Valaera quietly.

“W-We could go to Kings Landing, but the pups stay with us or Tarla at all times”.

It was a compromise. Even though Aemond dreaded his mother’s reaction to Aemon he knew Valaera missed her brothers and if truth be told Aemond did kind of miss Aegon, even if he was a massive twat with a punchable face.

Valaera nodded slightly and closed hers eyes.

Aemond had reacted so strongly to almost losing Aemon that he was overcompensating on his protectiveness. His Alpha instincts going crazy.

They would sort out the details of their trip to Kings Landing on the morrow, but right now all Valaera wanted to do was bask in her Alpha’s scent and forget this day ever happened.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd aemond #aemond x oc #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond x original female character #hotd fic #prince aemond #aemond one eye #helaena targaryen #baela targaryen

[julescarstairs]

Meet The Gang: That Which Is Precious and Lost Edition!

~~~

So, for those of you playing along at home, my best friend @tsc-reader and I have been writing a TSC Next-Generation Fanfic about our fanon kids of Kierarktina, Blackstairs, Kitty and Morgenthorn for two whole years now, over on Instagram. It’s called That Which Is Precious and Lost. We’ve written a complete instalment of 52 Chapters (which we call Book 1) and are currently working on a sequel, titled That Which is Gracious and Cruel (which we usually abbreviate to TWIPAL2, since TWIGAC makes us uncomfy ✨) as we speak!

Book 1 follows the kids as they embark on an epic journey to save their parents from a certain faerie matriarch, who is holding each of them captive for ransom — what ransom, you ask? Why, it’s none other than an ancient faerie spellbook called the Sage Scripts, which has long since been lost to the sands of time. Sands of time or not, the kids have a meagre fourteen days to find and retrieve the Scripts, and return them to the Seelie Queen’s hands — or run the risk of losing their family once and for all.

In book 2, the stakes grow higher, but there’s not much more I can tell you other than that, lest I spoil some big pointers from Book 1 for you 🤭 what I can tell you is that Book 2 introduces a staggering six more characters to the cast — five of which who are love interests for five of our main kids (and one who is honestly there solely to be an annoyance. You will hate how much we love pulling him into things. We’ll introduce you to those six on a different post, though.)

But I bet you’re wondering just who these kids are — and we would love to introduce them to you! See below the cut to meet our babies: The TWIPAL GANG!

1. Arrius ‘Ari’ Blackthorn-Kingson-Rosales

‘Ari passed a hand over his face and took the time to ask himself why he had to be born into such a ride or die family. He loved them all dearly, but this was getting ridiculous.’

— That Which Is Precious and Lost, Chapter Twenty Three: A Saccharine Melody (Written by @julescarstairs )

Ari is the eldest of our ragtag team of Shadowhunters at age 18, and is the son of Mark, Cristina and Kieran. A new adult, he takes it upon himself to guide his baby cousins, and younger sister Celeste, through the trying times that rise before them when their parents are kidnapped and held to ransom. His hair falls in short curls of medium brown, which lightens to a dirty blonde in the sun, and has the signature Blackthorn-Blue eyes, a trait shared by himself and only two other of his cousins. He stands at a staggering six foot four inches tall, though no one can really work out why or how he is that tall (not even us, the authors, but we love him for it anyway.) Ari simply grew, and everyone has come to accept that.

Much like Mark and Kieran, Ari chose a bow and arrows as his weapon of choice. Whilst he is capable with a balisong or a handful of knives, he prefers to work at a distance. In his childhood, he spent hours upon hours of his time mastering the art. Though often humble, Ari isn’t afraid to tell you he never misses.

Ari is a very mellow individual, often seen as the calm, grounding ‘rock’ in the lives of most of his younger family members. He is patient, thoughtful, but if you can scratch away that shell of responsibility that he so often hides himself away in, you will find that he does, indeed, have a sense of humour! (Ask Luc, he’ll tell you.) He loves very deeply, especially his younger sister Celeste, who he spent some periods of his childhood babysitting when his parents were busy with the Shadowhunter-Downworlder alliance, or, you know, ruling the Unseelie Court. Despite being Mark’s son, Ari bears a lot of resemblance to Julian personality-wise, and quite often looks to his Uncle for advice and guidance where his parents’ doesn’t quite suffice.

Ari’s fatal flaw is his stubbornness and his temperament. It takes a lot to send Ari into a fit of rage, given his cool and calm demeanour at the best of times, but if he is pushed over the edge, it’s hard to make him see reason. Like a bull with a red flag, Ari won’t stop something if he has his mind set on doing it, and will do anything he has to in order to get his way. His is a cold, quiet anger, which is frightening in its own regard and amplified by the fact that he stands over most people. The only person, aside from Celeste or his own parents, who has the ability to bring him back from such a dark anger, is Eleanor Blackthorn-Carstairs, who is only one year younger than him but not afraid to square up against him when he isn’t seeing the forest among the trees.

2. Celeste Blackthorn-Kingson-Rosales

‘Celeste let out a breath. Maybe it wasn't that she was part Shadowhunter. Maybe it was just that it had been a very, very long time since the Unseelie Courts had had a Queen. Now that she thought about it, Celeste wasn't sure there had ever been a Queen of Unseelie. The thought made her lift her chin defiantly. She would be a good ruler. Even if it was just for a short period of time, until her father got back. She would show her people that there was no reason to doubt her.’

— That Which Is Precious and Lost, Chapter Ten: Forgotten Memories (written by @tsc-reader )

Celeste is Ari’s younger sister, coming in at 16 years old to her brother’s two years senior. The daughter of Kieran, Cristina and Mark, she has her Father’s blue hair, which changes colour and value with her mood, and her mother’s warm, brown eyes. In a baffling contrast to her brother’s stature, Celeste is among one of the shortest of the TWIPAL twelve’s lineup, if not the shortest.

But don’t let that deter you. Celeste is a pocket rocket, and — much like her brother — won’t stop until she has what she wants, or achieves what she wants to achieve. Promises are like liquid gold to Celeste: when she promises you something, she will not break it, and will not forget about it. She’ll shake on it, pinky-swear, write it in blood if she has to, and will always follow through with what she claims. If ever she is rendered unable to do so, it breaks her heart. Minimum four business days should be allowed for her recovery. And if you break a promise with Celeste? I’d recommend digging your grave in advance, because she will come for you. She might even make it quick, since you did some of the dirty work for her.

Being Kieran’s biological daughter, Celeste takes her role as Heiress to the Unseelie Court throne very seriously. During the course of TWIPAL, Celeste actually splits off from the main gang to take her Father’s place on the throne, since Kieran is rendered unable to do so. She puts a lot of pressure on herself to do well, to do her Father justice and respect him and his wishes in every decision she makes. Every year, on her birthday, Kieran would take her on a walk through Unseelie Tower, showing her anything and everything he possibly could. The year she turned fifteen, Kieran gifted Celeste Windspear, his steed, just as Adaon had handed him down to him.

Celeste’s weapon of choice is a balisong, much like her mother. Unlike Ari, who likes to keep a distance from his enemies, Celeste likes to get up close and personal. She is very easily swept up in the fierce thrill of fighting. Though faeries may fight remarkably cleanly, Celeste does not. She’ll roll around in the dirt if it means she’ll win.

Celeste’s fatal flaw is her perfectionism. Because she so often strives to be perfect, to be everything everybody wants her to be, it makes her a bit of a control freak. Being raised by who she was raised by, Celeste recognises and admires her own autonomy and individuality, so any situation where that autonomy is taken away from her frightens her more than anything. She wouldn’t wish that on her worst enemy, let alone herself…

3. Eleanor ‘Ellie’ Blackthorn-Carstairs

‘Eleanor Blackthorn-Carstairs seldom ever found her home empty— at least, not without a note on the kitchen bench, or a text from her Mom or Dad letting her know they were going out. But when she returned to Blackthorn Hall from patrol, she found the vast home dark and so silent you could hear a pin drop, and there was not a single text on her phone. Maybe some teenagers her age wouldn't mind their parents stepping out without saying anything. Maybe some would savour the quiet ambiance: the faint chirping of crickets out the window, or the hum of wind as it blew past the curtains... But this was not a comfortable sort of quiet. And Eleanor's parents NEVER stepped out without letting her know.’

— That Which Is Precious and Lost, Chapter One: Pure Distilled Horror (Written by @julescarstairs )

Fun fact! Eleanor was the first of the TWIPAL gang to be born from our collective mess of brainstorming. Coming in at the second eldest of the cousins, Eleanor is an only child of age seventeen. She’s Emma and Julian’s daughter, and you would be able to see it from a mile away. She’s got Emma’s blonde hair and Julian’s blackthorn-blue eyes, as well as a face full of freckles, a trait often attributed to the Blackthorn bloodline.

Eleanor is just as chaotic and energetic as her mother is, often bouncing off her younger cousin Luc’s obnoxious, sardonic energy with witty remarks of her own (can you tell that Luc is going to be an important character to the narrative? I’ve mentioned him in two other characters’ descriptions already.) She is a strong swordswoman and she knows it, and as a result she has a competitive edge. She isn’t arrogant, but she knows her strength and her worth. She isn’t backwards in coming forwards about the things she wants.

But, despite everything, Eleanor is a balanced individual. Whilst she can be loud, bubbly and barbaric, she also has her Father’s maternal/paternal instinct, and is very quick to swoop in and lift people up when they’re falling apart inside. Where Ari is the dad of the TWIPAL gang, Ellie is very much the mom (but she’s not a regular mom, she’s a cool mom!) and it’s BECAUSE of their shared maternal instinct that Eleanor can call Ari out when he’s out of balance. She knows him better than he wants to admit, and will back him to the ends of the earth — as she will all of her cousins, especially LJ, whom she wants to be Parabatai with desperately, if her deep fear of the Parabatai bond wouldn’t keep holding her back.

Eleanor’s weapon of choice is Cortana, since she inherited it from her Mother. She values the heirloom dearly, and loathes being parted from it more than anything. Whilst she will always be found with Cortana strapped to her back, she is also quite competent with a crossbow, thanks to her dear old Dad.

Eleanor’s greatest weakness is her trust — or rather, her inability to trust. This excludes her family, of course, since she’s grown up among them and knows them better than she knows herself. But whenever new people come into her family, she isn’t quick to trust them. This is all primarily due to one person, who blindsided both her and her family into believing he was in love with her, only to drop her and walk away in a heartbeat. Whilst trusting too easily can be a flaw, being afraid to trust can put strain on new relationships she develops over time.

4. Livia ‘LJ’ Blackthorn-Herondale

‘LJ’s feet had barely touched the floor when she began to run. She sprinted through the hallways of the upstairs of her house, overcome with fear. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. She could hear the commotion coming from the floor below, something crashing to the ground, metal clanging against metal. When she got to the banister, LJ didn't hesitate. She jumped. There was the brief feeling of weightlessness as she fell, before she landed hard in a crouch on the floor. LJ burst through the doorway ofher living room, just in time to see a flash of blonde hair, a glint of gray eyes, and the spark of a Portal disappearing into nothingness.’

— That Which Is Precious and Lost, Chapter Two: Stuff of Nightmares (written by @tsc-reader )

LJ is the third youngest of the TWIPAL gang, at fifteen years old. (She’s only the ‘third youngest’ because the last couple of characters in the lineup are twins, and were born two months after her.) The adoptive daughter of Kit Herondale and Ty Blackthorn, LJ has long, black, curly hair and dark eyes to suit. In average lighting, her eyes seem black — but in the sun, or if a lamp or campfire hits her eyes just right, you’ll find that they’re actually a dark violet. LJ, despite being the youngest girly in the gang, happens to be the tallest, standing above both Ellie and Celeste but below Ari and the twins (who you will meet below.)

LJ was found on Kit and Ty’s doorstep, a classic image of a baby in a basket, swaddled in blankets. Neither Kit nor Ty know who left her there, only that the mysterious individual trusted them to look after her, and that they were going to look after her with their whole hearts. Sure, there must be a reason why they were chosen to look after baby LJ, but that was a fact they were yet to learn. With Livvy’s endorsement (because, yes, she is still here as a ghost), they named her Livia as well, but her whole family calls her LJ — with the exceptions being Kit, Ty and later Eleanor, who call her Liv.

LJ is a very, very bright young woman, nothing short of a brainiac. She is the first to seek logic and reason in everything she and her cousins come across — even in matters of magic, when logic and reason don’t really come into the picture. She’s also, possibly, the most levelheaded character in the entire gang. I’m convinced she carries their collective braincell 99% of the time (and the other 1% of the time is taken up by Ari and Oberon, who can lead when their siblings aren’t driving them insane.) In a way, LJ idolises her Father, Ty, for his intelligence and innovation. She spent hours upon hours of her childhood sitting with him in his study, watching him work on projects and inventions, and as a result she has developed an inventive streak within herself as well.

Liv’s weapon of choice is the Herondale dagger, handed down to her by Kit. When the dagger isn’t feasible, however, she also has a keen hand for throwing knives. Any small, sharp object — a dagger, a knife, a dart — is LJ’s specialty, but thats not to say she hasn’t at least made herself competent at every other weapon she can get her hands on. On top of that, LJ trained herself to be ambidextrous, not only to be able to handle weaponry better, but to be able to work on projects and experiments for longer periods at a time whilst minimising fatigue.

LJ’s biggest weakness is how she feels restricted by how little she knows. LJ can often spiral into a state of self-deprecation if she can’t solve a problem or puzzle herself. Even if her intelligence runs rings around that of her cousins’ — Ari himself actually comments on this — she beats herself up endlessly if she cannot work something out that flew over their heads. Liv puts a lot of pressure on herself to be great, to know the answers to anything and everything when it’s physically impossible for her to do so. She gets herself down a lot, but Ellie is the first to lift her back up and remind her that if she doesn’t know now, she will find out soon.

Second to Eleanor, LJ’s closest companion among her cousins is none other than Oberon Morgenstern, one of the twins. Oberon often finds himself recruited by LJ as her lab assistant, whether it be voluntary or not. He doesn’t mind, though, because if helping LJ means seeing her smiling and happy, then he’d do it any day of the week. The two are close, a dynamic explored regularly through TWIPAL’s fifty-two chapters, in a number of ways.

Speaking of Oberon, that brings us to our next character in the lineup…

5. Oberon Morgenstern

Oberon rarely ever lost his cool in bad situations, but his twin brother lying unconscious on the ground was clearly the exception. He sped downwards, the world turning to a blur around him. He landed in a crouch, bracing himself on the ground with his hand. Ari looked over at him, surprise touching his face at Oberon's sudden appearance, but he sat back on his heels, letting him take over. Whipping out his stele, Oberon sketched a neat iratze on Luc's arm. "Come on, brother," Oberon said softly. "Come back to me. Stay with me." He touched Luc's cheek lightly with his fingertips. His twin's face was icy, his pale curls plastered to his forehead with sweat. A few seconds passed.

Then Luc's eyes fluttered open, ocean blue behind his eyelashes. "Oberon," Luc said, his voice hoarse. "Im okay."

"Lucas Andrew Morgenstern, you are not okay." Oberon said, his fear coming out as anger. "Stop being an idiot, and tell me what's wrong.”

— That Which Is Precious and Lost, Chapter Twenty-Four: An Exquisite Dance (written by @tsc-reader )

Listen, we don’t pick favourites in this household, but the Morgenthorn twins are definitely a step above the rest. Oberon, and his brother Luc, who you’ll hear about next, are fraternal twin brothers, both the sons of Drusilla Blackthorn and Ash Morgenstern. Oberon is the older twin, and even though there were only a few minutes between their births, he isn’t afraid to tell you, your friend, or even Luc himself that he’s older. He takes his role as ‘the older twin’ very seriously, much to Luc’s irritation at times. Oberon is a gentle soul, with his mother’s dark brown hair — which falls in picture-perfect curls around his face no matter how many times he runs his hands through it — and his Father’s green eyes, reminiscent of his Fairchild heritage. Much like Celeste, Ari and his brother, Oberon has the tapered ears unique only to the fair folk, though they aren’t quite as pointed as a full blooded faerie gentry. He stands at five foot ten inches at age fifteen, which renders him the second tallest of the TWIPAL gang, second only to Ari (he is about one inch taller than his brother, which he also may or may not rub in his face from time to time. Oberon isn’t arrogant, but will take any opportunity to humble Luc when it arises.)

One thing that sets Oberon apart from his faerie family members is his wings, which he also inherited from his father, Ash. At age ten, a pair of black-feathered wings sprouted from his spine, taking permanent purchase between his shoulder blades. It was only a matter of time before Oberon — and Luc, for that matter — found that these wings were integral to his way of life. As a result, he is very skilled in the ways of flight, and utilises his higher vantage point regularly during battles and patrol.

Oberon is a deeply, deeply loving young man, a gift who keeps on giving even when his heart has been scraped dry, trodden on, broken and put back together again. His open, forthcoming kindness and friendliness may seem quite startling to most people when they first meet him, but it can also be very deceptive — because underneath that warm, loving teddy-bear that Oberon so often is, lies a dark, determined warrior who isn’t afraid to stand between anyone and anything if it means protecting those he loves. He is a very intelligent young man with a gift for strategy and deception. If it weren’t for his heart, for the fact that he loves and is loved by his family (and his boyfriend, Aaron Longford, who you will meet on another post), Oberon would make for quite the terrifying enemy.

Oberon is protective of no one more than he is protective of Luc. He and his brother have a very special bond, unlike no other. They are seldom seen apart, and when they are separated, it’s cause for concern. Their connection transcends the waking world, so much so that if they’re found sleeping side by side, they’ll often sleep-talk to each other. Oberon loves Luc so much that is causes him a lot of pain and heartache, especially as the narrative grows thicker, deeper and darker. Oberon hasn’t known a time in his life without Luc, and will do everything in his power to keep it that way. Wherever Luc is, Oberon will never be far behind. No matter how far Luc falls from grace (because, believe me, he can be ungraceful sometimes) Oberon will be there to catch him. Oberon and Luc were born into a social climate where people are still wary of the Morgenstern name, and as a result, the boys have always believed that, in part, it’s been them against the world. Oberon made it his mission to change the Council’s perception of the Morgenstern name. This means keeping both himself and his brother in line.

Oberon’s weapon of choice is Phaesphoros, the first of two Morgenstern family swords. Though the ‘normal’ world’s Phaesphoros was destroyed along with Sebastian Morgenstern during the Dark War, it is said that Ash brought both Heosphoros and Phaesphoros back from Thule with him (at least, in the TWIPALverse he did.) When the boys turned 10, and were old enough to bear marks and start their formal Shadowhunter training, Ash laid the two swords before his sons at let the blades choose their bearers. The connection was almost instant: Phaesphoros chose Oberon, Heosphoros chose Luc. It only made sense, after all, for the twin brothers to have twin blades.

Oberon’s biggest weakness, his fatal flaw, is his tendency to self-sacrifice. Whilst he might be a gift that keeps on giving, this doesn’t always work in his favour. He is quick to throw himself under the bus or in front of a train if it means preserving the wellbeing of those he loves most in the world. Whilst he performs these grand, sweeping gestures of self sacrifice under the pretence of nobility, he’s rarely met with the reactions he was expecting to get from them. It’s actually Eleanor, during a late night conversation in TWIPAL’s epilogue, that expresses how Oberon’s selflessness concerns her. There is a fine line between selflessness and not valuing your own life, after all. But, for all the conflict it causes, Oberon is steadfast in his decisions, as he is in everything he does, and firmly believes that every sacrifice he makes, no matter how big or small, is for the better of those he loves: of Luc, of Aaron, of everyone.

Even if Luc disagrees.

6. Lucas ‘Luc’ Morgenstern

‘… a whirlwind of memories rose before his very eyes: Luc falling out of bed the first time he and Oberon had slept in their new bunk bed, and Oberon being the one to help him up off of the ground. Oberon being unable to sleep the night before they got their first marks, and Luc being the one who sat awake with him until he lulled himself to sleep. Luc crafting matching bracelets for himself and his brother with teardrop-shaped agates as the centrepieces - agates, because they symbolised safety and security, and there was nowhere Luc felt safer than by his brother's side. Oberon throwing himself into Luc's arms, sobbing, when they finally reunited in the labyrinth.

The deluge of memories struck Luc like many punches to the gut, leaving him doubling over and gasping. He had always thought that he needed Oberon more than Oberon needed him, but watching his life laid out before him now, Luc realised that he was wrong, so very wrong. Because Luc was half of Oberon just as much as Oberon was half of him. Together they made a formidable warrior, in which Luc was the sword and Oberon the shield. But what good was a shield without a sword? A sword without a shield? Without one or the other, they were incomplete.’

— That Which Is Precious and Lost, Chapter Forty-One: My Sword, Your Shield (written by @julescarstairs )

Luc Morgenstern is the firecracker to Oberon’s lit candle. Despite being twins on paper, Luc couldn’t look any more different to his brother in terms of colour palette. He has Ash’s platinum blonde hair, which manages to stay stylishly spiky as Oberon’s stays stylishly wavy, and the signature Blackthorn Blue eyes, which give him the appearance of a high-brow Snow Prince. But despite his difference in hair and eye colour, both he and his brother share near-identical bone structure. There’s no mistaking that they’re twins, no matter how different they may seem at first glance. Both Luc and Oberon (which I forgot to mention above) have faces full of freckles, a trait brought out by many of their days spent outside in the Los Angeles sun. Like Oberon, Luc has a pair of silken black wings, which sprouted from his back at the ripe age of ten. He has mastered the art of flight alongside his swordsmanship, rendering him a highly skilled and agile opponent (something Luc himself will tell you, even if you didn’t ask.)

Luc has a loud personality.He’s proud, cocky, obnoxious and dramatic in the best possible way, to the point where it’s charming — because as confident as Luc is in himself and his abilities as a Shadowhunter, he never actively puts anybody else down in order to make himself look good (unless you put him down first, in which he will engage in verbal combat, but don’t take any of it to heart.) Luc can be quite hotheaded, a stark contrast to his brother’s colder, quieter anger, and struggles to curb his temper, especially when people challenge his pride. He’s got all the witty, sarcastic comebacks, something he shares in common with his older cousin, Eleanor. Luc is also the self-proclaimed President of The Disaster Blondes, a group consisting of three people — Himself, Eleanor, and Skylar, Celeste’s girlfriend — who have banded together for two reasons, and two reasons alone: one, they’re all blonde, and two, they’re all down to try any batshit crazy scheme under the sun, even if it’s to their detriment.

But despite Luc’s loud, self-assured exterior, he is actually very self conscious, deep down. He cares deeply what people think of him, and how they perceive him as a person. He worries, often, that he is seen as a bad person, and doesn’t believe that he is able to be loved. He experiences a sort of imposter syndrome, where he believes that he shouldn’t be among these people who love him so much, that he doesn’t deserve the good things that come his way. This is a trait that develops more in the latter half of TWIPAL, but a trait that presents itself all the same. It interferes with his relationships regularly, both past ones, present ones and future ones.

It’s Oberon that keeps Luc in balance, even when he isn’t actively trying to. Luc depends on Oberon more than he realises, sometimes, and often feels like he needs his older brother more than Oberon needs him, even when this isn’t the case at all. Luc would die for Oberon, just as Oberon would die for him, but he would also kill for his brother, get his hands dirty, if it means that Oberon is safe, well and happy. It terrifies him, how much he is willing to do for Oberon. He wants nothing more in his life than to be Parabatai with his brother, to reinforce the strength and power of their bond with an oath signed in blood and fire.

(Luc can also be found third-wheeling on a lot of Oberon and Aaron’s dates, but Oberon doesn’t really mind. Nor does Aaron, who has just accepted that his brother in law will be down to hang at any given opportunity.)

Luc’s weapon of choice is the shortsword Heosphoros. Like Eleanor, he has a very personal connection to his sword, often talking to it and reminding it (yes, the sword) how much he loves it. Luc trains ruthlessly, with the desire to be one of the best Shadowhunters of his generation, if not the best. Combat is also a release to Luc, who can be found decompressing and letting off steam in the training room of the L.A. Institute, just as often as he is found formally training.

Where Oberon’s greatest weakness is his tendency to self sacrifice, Luc’s is his tendency to self sabotage. Luc is fast to deny himself good things and positive outcomes purely because he himself doesn’t believe he deserves them. Aside from his tendency to self-sabotage, his only other weak point would be Oberon himself. If not for Oberon’s bottomless love and faith in him, Luc would tumble into an irreversible darkness. As much as Luc desperately wants to rewrite his own legacy, independent of his family’s sinister history, if Oberon were to give up on him, Luc fears that he, too, would be the one to light a match and watch the world burn.

~~~~

There you have it! After nearly 3,000 words of ceaseless rambling, you’ve met the core six characters of @tsc-reader and I’s TSC fic, That Which Is Precious and Lost. Whilst the story in full is accessible on our Instagram accounts, we are more than happy to reformat and repost the chapters here on tumblr if there’s enough interest in them 🤭💗 (so, if you would like to see TWIPAL make an appearance here on Tumblr, let us know! )

We would also LOVE to hear your thoughts on the main six! We’re always open to feedback, and will take any opportunity we can to talk about these silly little guys 🤭🥹💗)

Also going to tag a few peeps down here who I think might find this interesting:

@princeash

@bookishjules

(Also, there was one person here who posted a whole post about their fanon kids of the TSC gangs but I CANNOT find you. I am so sorry. If you’re seeing this please, give me a sign.)

And, of course, my best partner in crime @tsc-reader who I have already tagged copious times in this post 🤭🥹💗 love you, girl!

#the dark artifices #the wicked powers #the last king of faerie #the last prince of hell #the last shadowhunter #lady midnight #lord of shadows #Queen of air and darkness #kit herondale #ty blackthorn #kierarktina #blackstairs #julian blackthorn #emma carstairs #morgenthorn #ash Morgenstern #drusilla blackthorn #Ari Blackthorn-Kingson-Rosales #Celeste Blackthorn-Kingson-Rosales #Eleanor Blackthorn-Carstairs #LJ Blackthorn-Herondale #Luc Morgenstern #Oberon Morgenstern #that which is Precious and lost #that which is gracious and cruel #Twipal #the shadowhunter chronicles #the shadowhunter chronicles fanfic #fanfic #TSC fic

[deadmenandthedivine]

DEAD MEN § the DIVINE

chapter eight: dead flowers and garden bugs

Maetilda Targaryen, First of her Name, was supposed to be many things. What she became was entirely different.

table of contents

trigger warning!!! this fic contains many graphic topics and depictions. such as but not limited to: dead parents, abusive parents, toxic family systems, incest, medieval misogyny, forced marriage, threats of assault (sexual § physical), actual assault, imprisonment, kidnapping, murder, blood/gore, uxoricide, familicide, PTSD and other neurodivergence. i will do my best to update as i go along, but please let me know if i have missed anything!

word count: 3838

Everything around her seemed so calm. The gentle breeze barely disturbed the gardens and branches above. The birds sang their songs. Even the sounds of hustle and bustle of King’s Landing seemed quieter, more peaceful than usual. Her sisters breathed calmly and spoke softly as they flanked her sides. They hadn’t stopped holding each of her hands since they had grabbed them and led them out of the Great Hall. The princess shook like a leaf. The casual air that radiated from her sisters disturbed her suspicions. Had they seen someone die so gruesomely before? It had been their kin after all. They had known him far better than she had. Did they not like him? Were they relieved? Whenever she blinked, she could see the insides of his head. His tongue limply falling out of it to rest on the floor. She could not remember such a horrific sight since Lucerys took Aemond’s eye. The cut was horrific, but to the point where she did not want to peel her eyes away. What was left of Vaemond was abominable, and she was frozen in shock at the sight of it. The image of it was imprinted on the backs of her eyelids. Her father had been so swift, so nimble, and so very silent. It happened so fast she questioned if she had actually seen it. But she most certainly had, it replayed over in her mind in a constant loop.

If it weren’t for her two sisters, she knew she would have completely left her own body. It had all been too much. If it were not for their interference, she would have caused quite the scene. Yet the princess could hardly think of anything beyond how the two seemed to be acting so normal. Her mind was stuck on it. Yes, they had seen violent deaths bring the end to proud men from the time they were small girls. Tourneys, executions, duels for one’s honor. She had seen such deaths too. But this one had been different. They had to have felt something. He had watched over them at Driftmark while their grandfather was off at his many wars. They had known him far better than she ever had. She felt guilty for it. Her emotions. She cursed her own audacity to put herself above them in such a manner. I am fine. What I saw was fine. It was nothing. I am fine. I am fine. It was nothing. Everything is fine. It will all be fine. With the inner mantra and steady breaths, the princess fought to regain control of herself. She knew she needed to check in on them. She was their older sister and she was not acting like it.

“How are you both? Are you well?” She finally forced out.

Baela scoffed out a dry laugh.

“Are you well?” Rhaena asked.

The princess nodded stiffly, unable to answer the question verbally. Her sisters stared at her unconvinced, “Congratulations on your engagements.”

Baela laughed again, a bit more incredulously.

“Thank you, Til.” Rhaena smiled.

“Jace and Luke have always been very good brothers to me over these years.” The eldest stated, “It gives me no doubt that they shall make even better husbands. I hope you will let me know if they ever upset you. I swear I will straighten them both out — promptly.”

“I fear no husband.” Baela stated proudly.

“Good, they are not worth your fear. You’ll see once we eventually go riding.”

“I believe that we have been suitably matched.” Rhaena smiled, “Our future titles are quite fitting too.”

“Lady of Driftmark and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. They suit you very much. You will make a good queen someday, Baela,” The princess nodded, “Did you know ahead of time?”

“Yes.” Baela shrugged.

“Grandmother told us of the offer late in the night, but she did not tell us that she had accepted it.” Rhaena clarified, “But I am sure you have had plenty of proposals. Any pretty ones?”

The eldest sister shrugged. Her chest tightened again at the reminder of her perpetual solitude and shame. It seemed to be the only topic of discussion amongst the Seven Kingdoms. Soon, she would undoubtedly be considered a laughingstock. The proposals would surely slow over the next few years, if she was lucky they hadn’t already stopped. With every question, it seemed her days were dwindling. How long until she was referred to as the Spinster of Runestone? A dry, ugly hag? She would be mocked at every tourney, feast, or social gathering, perhaps even in songs. The sneers and taunts already echoed in her ears. Who would wed her after that? Certainly no one the those of Runestone would be pleased with. From how her knights spoke of other lords when they thought she couldn’t hear, she was sure of it. Would they even let her in her own castle if they didn’t approve? Hopefully Shrykos would be enough to convince them. But what if she wasn’t? What if the proud men of the Vale would rather see death by fire than an unwed spinster as their Lady? Like Vaemond would rather commit treason than see Rhaenyra’s son rule his family seat. It was a rigidly noble stance to take. Yet she could not blame them. Especially those of Runestone. They did not know her. They only knew of her parents, one they cherished and the other they wholeheartedly condemned. She had been cursed at conception perhaps. Parents such as hers should have never been given a child.

“No, uhh,” Maetilda answered quickly after realizing how long she had been lost in her thinking, “If there are, I do not know of a single one.”

Clutching her necklaces, Baela gasped, “That’s not true.”

“Certainly you have suitors, sister. Lining up all the way from the Iron Islands to Yi Ti.” Rhaena’s brows were furrowed as she looked at the princess with suspicion.

“Very sweet of you both. But there is not much that I can do about any of it.”

“I will have a word with Grandmother.” Rhaena disagreed.

“Grandmother can’t fix everything, Rhaena.” Baela retorted.

“If she cannot fix it, she will show us what to do.”

“No need, it is fine. I will be fine.”

“Maetilda, you do not look like you will be fine.” Rhaena stated matter of factly.

“What are you insinuating?”

“The way you looked at father in the Throne Room. You were terrified of him.” Baela crossed her arms.

“He was— It is fine. I was just shaken up from what happened. There is nothing to worry about.”

“I take offense to how stupid you must think we are.” Baela scoffed.

“Baela!” Rhaena scolded.

“I am not going to apologize! She is the one who called us stupid.”

“I made no such accusation!”

“You deem me a liar now? The gall on this one, Rhaena! Can you believe her?”

“I could call you worse things, if you would prefer.” The princess smirked, not being able to pass up the opportunity to make such a threat.

“I could call your mother worse things!” Baela stuck out her tongue childishly.

“I am sure your mother would be very pleased to hear what you have to say.”

“You may call for my mother all you like, she will not answer.”

“Do not underestimate her!”

“Pardon my lapse of judgment, your mother did call for me just the other day.”

“That is enough! Both of you.” Rhaena finally butted in.

“Now the fun is dead too.” Baela rolled her eyes.

“Since when were you the responsible one?” Maetilda teased.

“Since I was stranded in a Keep with grandmother and this one for years on end.” Rhaena smiled smugly as she gestured toward her older twin sister.

“My deepest apologies.” The princess grinned genuinely as her two sisters giggled alongside her.

The three seemed significantly more relaxed as they continued to pace about the gardens together. There was something so delightfully soothing about reuniting after so long. Like she could breath without any residual tightness in her chest. The last time they had seen each other had been the twins’ last nameday, their seven and tenth. The girls had gone riding over Driftmark together on their dragons. Their father had hired Pentoshi street performers and Norvosi bell dancers to entertain them as a reminder of their shared youth. The festivities and celebration lasted for days. By the end of it, the bell dancers had taught the girls a few moves and they had started to develop a tolerance to Dornish wine. Each night, they would drink more cups than the last until they would end up dancing up and down the corridors. It had been one of the best nameday celebrations the princess could remember. Their father was always a lot more generous with his pocketbooks when it came to the twins. Despite the fact that the two had never been left wanting in the care of their grandparents. Before the girls had dragons of their own, their parents would take them riding on Vhagar and Caraxes. The twins would normally ride together, either with their father or mother. Maetilda would ride with whoever they didn’t, which meant that she frequently rode Vhagar. Despite being the biggest most famous dragon in the whole world, the twins would almost always choose to ride with their father. The alone time with Laena had always felt a bit off to the princess. Her late stepmother had never been short of kind and loving, always spending extra time to help her with her stitching and calligraphy. She always made sure to hear the princess’s side of the story when the three girls fought. Yet atop Vhagar, all she could think about was her own mother. They would never ride dragons together. She was jealous that her sisters got to choose who to ride with. She was jealous of their engagement status. She was jealous of their caretaker and the elegance they inherited from her. She was jealous of the fact that they could keep their sanity in front of everyone. The jealousy had a tendency to eat at her insides whenever she was around them. She felt guilty for it. Such matters were not their fault.

After their legs grew tired, the three sisters took a seat on some shaded cushions that overlooked the waves. The sea mist was humid, but familiar. They talked for what felt like hours about books they’d read, frivolous gossip, and if they thought Rhaenyra was carrying a prince or princess. In reality, time moved differently in the warmth of each others’ presence. Eventually servants brought them tea and snacks, after seeing that they had ceased their walk. Apple fritters with honey and syrup. Different cuts of quail sandwiches, the perfect size to be eaten with one’s fingers. Assorted freshly cut fruit. Breads and cheeses galore. The tea was ginger, wheatgrass, and lemon. Maetilda added sugar to hers and they all dug in. The twins even ate as if their grandmother meticulously coached every movement. She tried not to gawk at her sisters for it. Especially Baela, who had always been the more rambunctious. Little to no crumbs fell. They fell silent while they ate, enjoying the food. Their lack of chatter allowed for them to take in the sounds around them. The crashing of the waves, the hum of life from the city, the chirping of birds, the passing bits of conversations from working servants. Even the buzzing of wings from the garden bugs that caught a whiff of the elaborately prepared cuisine. It was all broken by the sound of footsteps approaching, heard long before their owner’s identity was revealed due to the weaving of the garden paths. They were distinct, just like any knight’s. The armor was quieter at the joints. The crunching gravel from boots meeting the ground suggested they were made of a different material, almost sounding heavier. All three girls tensed as they passed looks of inquiry and speculation amongst themselves. Emerging from a path lined with browning bushes, one of the Cargyll twins approached and bowed. Ser Wyllam stood at attention and looked to his princess for direction.

“Ser Cargyll, good day,” Maetilda greeted, not entirely sure which twin it was.

“Good day, Princess, Ladies. You may call me Ser Arryk, less confusing.”

The logic would be sound, if she could actually tell them apart in the first place. She suspected she would lose that game the minute the brothers stood side by side again. Telling her sisters apart had never been hard. Even when they were babes.

“Pardon me for being forward, but what brings you here?” She asked.

“Not forward at all, I have been sent for a reason.”

“Yes, and that reason is?” Baela inquired suspiciously.

“My prince has sent me to see to your good health, Princess Maetilda. We are all quite shaken by today’s events.”

Her cheeks grew red as she felt herself sinking into her seat. Had she made a scene? Her father would undoubtedly have a word with her about it later. Especially if it was dramatic enough for others to take notice. Her sisters’ eyes bore into her worse than the sun on a hot summer day, “… which prince, Ser Arryk?”

“He did not want me to say.” The knight muttered.

“Yes, but I want you to say.” Maetilda smiled sweetly.

“Forgive me, princess. I do believe his order outweighs yours.”

“Whether that is true or not, we are certainly nicer to talk to, prettier, and some of those among us will be the future Queen, you know.” Baela shrugged as she glanced around inconspicuously and checked her nail beds.

“This is very true, Ser Arryk, you should tell us regardless.” Maetilda tried, “A strong, skilled, and valiant knight such as yourself should be able to get away with it.”

“I truly hope you can forgive me, princess, lady, and future Queen. If my head was not the wager, I would’ve already told you.”

Rhaena leaned forward like a lord over a war table, “Tell us this, knight. If that is even what you are. Why is this alleged prince not seeing after the princess’s health himself?”

The other two sisters dissolved into held-back giggles at the youngest’s genius. Even the Cargyll brother smirked. He sat his weight back on one of his feet and glanced up at the sky in thought.

“His grace is seeing to his brother.”

“Forgive me, Ser Cargyll. Your lack of answers is insufferable.” Baela grumbled.

“Truly! Do Kingsguard have no fun?” Rhaena teased.

“Not when under orders, unfortunately.” Ser Arryk bowed his head.

“Simply miserable.” Maetilda sighed, “You may fulfill your orders however you like, Ser Arryk. Tell the prince what you see fit. But if he wants to know the truth of my health, he must come find me himself.”

“I shall pass along the message,” The knight bowed, “Good day, princess, lady, future Queen.”

As quiet as a kitchen mouse, Ser Arryk turned on the balls of his feet and left the same way he came. The princess replayed the conversation in her head over and over again, milling over each person’s words. Her heart fluttered and sank at the same time. One of the princes had sent after her. The options were numbered, exactly five. Aegon, Jacaerys, Aemond, Lucerys, or Daeron. Six, if her father was to be counted, but he would not have sent a Kingsguard. By the same logic, Jace and Luke were unlikely to be culprits. Ser Arryk was not their knight, and they would have asked themselves. Neither of them were thoughtful enough to send someone after her. Daeron was not a strong candidate either. He was older than Joffrey, and likely at the age where he would have crushes on girls. A disturbing notion for the princess to think about. However, the King’s youngest son was also in Oldtowne with his great uncle as a ward. That left Aegon or Aemond. She really did not want the former to come looking for her. Something that she had just invited via the Kingsguard. The thought alone made her nauseous. Her stomach boiled and bubbled. He was married to Helaena, but she knew such bindings would not be enough to stop him from his pursuits. He could have laid the trap.

“Gods be damned, what did I just do!” She groaned as soon as the coast was clear.

“You took the reins, sister!” Baela proudly giggled.

“I cannot have the King’s drunken son harassing me in the corridors.” The princess snapped quietly.

“It wasn’t the drunk one. That’s who is being looked after.” Rhaena smirked, “Aemond is not subtle.”

“Aemond?” Baela sneered with disgust.

“Aemond?!” Maetilda simultaneously gasped.

“Baela, you cannot still hold a grudge against him. He was a wounded boy who wanted the world’s largest dragon for himself.” Rhaena sighed.

“Of course I can! I do not forget.”

“Sisters, we do not need to get into this. We don’t know it was him.” Maetilda attempted.

“He called Jace and Luke slurs. I would wager all the jewelry in my possession that he still uses them.” Baela ignored her.

“They both do. Yet one of them seems to have his eyes on our sister and would be politically advantageous.” Rhaena hissed.

“Politically advantageous or not, he’s not a good match. I will not see it happen.” Baela crossed her arms again.

“Father would never marry me to a Hightower.” Maetilda pointed out.

Rhaena frowned in agreement. Baela smiled as she threw her hands up in relief, “There’s always the Manderly Lord! Part of me thinks he has not yet taken a wife because he waits for you.”

The twins giggled until they cried at the shared memory from their nameday some years ago. But the princess felt knots in her stomach build at her sisters’ increasing interest in her engagement status. Briefly, she wondered if they could have an ulterior motive. They could work together to ensure her disgrace, yet their betrothal to the most sought after bachelors in the Kingdom took away all need to compete. They were no longer in the same race as her. They were promised. Soon, all of the Realm would know. It would be a disgrace for them should they not follow through with marriage. Neither Rhaenys nor Rhaenyra were the type to change their mind. In a perfect world, Rhaenyra would have a say over Maetilda’s marriage arrangements as well.

“Sometimes I wonder if father will ever have me marry.” She whispered barely loud enough for the two to hear, “Sometimes I wonder if he— what lengths he would go to keep my castle.”

It was as if all sound throughout King’s Landing and Blackwater Bay ceased for the span of a few breaths. The twins looked at their older sister with wide and shell shocked eyes. Their expressions were identical. The same sort of face that Laena would have made. It made the princess want to pause. The blood in her veins changed temperature.

“You think father would do something nefarious in order to keep possession of an old castle in the Vale? When he is to be King Consort?” Rhaena attempted to piece together the puzzle.

“Father does not want to be left without a contingency plan.” The princess pointed out.

“He has always been one to plot.” Baela nodded in agreement, “And brood.”

As the princess’s hands rubbed up and down the outsides of her thighs, they brushed past the bumps in her waist pocket. The stones were still in there. She had not moved them. They had all collected to one corner throughout her day. She could not tell her sisters. They would only run to tell their grandmother. She needed more time to find the caster and undo the binds. Princess Rhaenys would only put a stop to that. Panic flooded Maetilda’s every sense at the very thought of her losing such an opportunity to prove herself.

“Father is getting older, but he has time to change his mind.” Rhaena stated with a sigh.

Maetilda was not so confident. She pursed her lips to keep her dissent at bay.

“We shall convince him.” Baela agreed.

“We should go riding tomorrow.” Maetilda changed the subject.

“I have missed Shrykos!” Baela gasped happily.

“I do as well. She is not here. We all traveled by boat for Princess Rhaenyra’s sake.” The princess frowned softly.

“You must ride with one of us!” Rhaena insisted, “We could leave after breaking our fast. You could eat with us! We must ask grandmother.”

“Must ask me what?”

The regal woman appeared silently out of nowhere. Perhaps the bushes around them had disguised her footsteps. Their knights should have announced her arrival. Rhaenys must have told them not to. Each of the girls bowed their heads respectfully at her presence.

“We wish to go riding tomorrow, like on our birthday. May we please?” Rhaena replied sweetly.

“Grandmother, the skies call our name!” Baela interjected dramatically.

The Queen that Never Was smiled. There was a hint of a nostalgic gleam in her eye. Her hands that were neatly tucked behind her back moved to tuck in front of her.

“I may allow it. First, you both must come with me to ready for dinner.” Rhaenys sighed, “Princess Maetilda, I am certain you should be expected at dinner soon as well.”

All three of the younger girls nodded. The twins slowly and solemnly rose. Their arms hung limply at their sides as they glanced over to their sister. The three girls all shared goodbyes, with promises to reconvene in the morning. The twins' grandmother watched the girls with an unreadable expression. She was clearly deep in thought. Her eyes were staring forward, but she did not seem to be actively observing with them — at least for a moment.

Before officially turning to leave, Rhaenys lingered in her place, “There will be a family dinner tomorrow night. With all of you.”

Once more, the three nodded in acknowledgment. There was not much to be said. There was no room for argument or question. Only obedience. The twins began to follow the path out of the gardens. The same one Ser Arryk had followed. But Rhaenys did not move to follow them. She remained in the same place she lingered. Maetilda was almost too scared to look at her, to see what kept the elder princess from leaving with her granddaughters. Thoughts of what the next day would bring began to overwhelm her senses. A family dinner could only mean tension and trouble. Of which, she was already feeling overwhelmed by. Instead of looking up at her elder, she dropped her gaze to her lap in defeat.

“Keep your head up, Princess. Feel your fear on the inside, do not let them see it… lest they use it against you. And they will — do not for a moment think they won’t. They are jealous of you.”

A/N: i love a little sisters moment :P hope y’all do too!! i love baela and rhaena so much. the younger generation girl are all so precious imo.

also, thank you @marvelescvpe for your comment on my last chapter. this blog is linked to my other one and i couldn’t figure out how to reply from this blog on my phone! 😂 shoutout to you!! i’m so glad you’re enjoying!

xoxo messy

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen #hotd imagine #aemond one eye #hotd #hotd aemond #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond x fem!oc #prince aemond #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #hotd fanfic #baela and rhaena #lady baela #baela targaryen #hotd baela #hotd rhaena #rhaena targaryen #lady rhaena #dead men and the divine

[abbyromanoff]

You’re back….Chapter 2

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader, Wanda Maximoff x reader

Series here:

Word count: 2938

Summary: when Wanda, the love of your life, blipped away, you found comfort in your friend. She reminded you of your past lover and you fell for one another. What happens when Wanda returns?

Warnings: angst, grief, kinda dark themes, death, trauma, depression, just sad shit

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

Stepping into the shower you basked in the hot water, the temperature cooling you in a sense. The shampoo droplets made its way into your hands as you started to wash yourself, thinking of one thing only, getting those stones. You heard the door to the bathroom open and saw a figure through the glass, one you recognized as Nat’s.

“Hey baby, mind if I join you?” Instead of answering, you opened the glass door to let her in. She wrapped her arms around your waist and rested her head on your shoulder, giving you a small smile that you returned.

“You excited about today?” The woman asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. You hummed in response and interlocked your hands with her own, playing with the fingertips.

“Yeah, I just really want to get them all back, you know?” She knew what you meant by everyone, but she didn’t say anything. Of course, you loved your friends and have missed them dearly. But, most of all, you wanted Wanda back. You knew you couldn’t date her again. No matter how much you loved her, Nat didn’t deserve that. You just wanted to know she was alive, that she was living her life happily.

Nat worried that if you got Wanda back, you’ll leave her. She couldn’t blame you though, Wanda was your first true love. She was just hoping she’d be the last.

“So, you’ll get your sister back then? Do you think I’ll ever get to meet her?” She smiled at the thought, Yelena was so important to her. She told you all about the blonde all the time, you knew she felt guilty about leaving her.

“Y-yeah, we’ll get her back and you can meet her. She’ll love you, I promise. She always teased me about when I’d get a girlfriend, but now I do.” You couldn’t deny how great that sounded, being her girlfriend and meeting her family. It was a dream she often had, one she often mentioned. You always wanted something like that, but with another redhead. You remember all the times she’d mention her family that she wanted you to so desperately meet. When she lost her parents, she was so young, the story broke you. And then, she lost her brother. Her twin. Her ride or die. And now she would have to lose you too.

You both got dressed and headed downstairs to the almost empty compound, it was so dull here now. You and Nat are the only ones who live here still, the rest left like they always did. Overtime, people started piling in, a smile joined Nat’s face as most of her loved ones were together again.

“What’s vomir?” Asked your girlfriend with her cute little notepad. She was wearing the shirt you always stole from her, the one you found so comfortable. Nebula explained everything, going into detail about how her father killed her sister there. Nat put her arm on your thigh, a sign that she was there for you.

You worried for the woman’s sake, the moment she mentioned she would be the one going to the planet along with Clint, you had a gut feeling that something was wrong.

“Nat, you can’t go.” She sighed, clearly frustrated. This has been going on for almost an hour, the two of you arguing back and forth like a married couple.

“Why? Why can’t I go? This isn’t your decision, if something happens to me then it is what it is. You don’t get to pick for me!” She yelled in your face this time, standing up and towering over you with her larger frame.

“Because I can’t lose you Nat! Something is going to happen on that stupid fucking planet, I know it. And I’m not ready to lose you, I can’t lose you, because I love you.” Saying it out loud felt right. It felt like you were holding in your breath and finally let it out. She sat down on the bed next to you, approaching you with a calmer state now. She muttered out a small ‘come here’ and you did, grasping onto her for dear life.

“You’re not going to lose me, Y/N. Even if something does happen, I’ll still always be with you. I’ll always be in your heart, because I love you.” You cried into her strong chest, the thought of losing her as well was too much.

You didn’t understand this. One moment you want Wanda but the next you want Nat, you love them both. They both hold a special place in your heart, they were the glue to your rip. You knew you couldn’t have them both, they despised one another. But you so badly wanted it.

“Do you really love me, Y/N? More than Wanda?” You couldn’t answer her. You didn’t know if you loved her, but you knew you didn’t love her more than the witch, you’d never love someone more than her.

“I do love you Nat, I do.” You chose not to answer the second part, you didn’t want to disappoint her. She knew your answer, she knew you’d never love anyone the way you loved Wanda. But she refused to let you go. You’d love her eventually, she hoped. She never felt this way before. All her life she was taught that love was for children, but you were different. You were like the sun on a cold day. A flower in a bouquet. The main character in her story, her favorite story. Hearing the words leave your mouth caused a smile to blossom on her face, you loved her. You were in love with her.

“I promise you, if I don’t make it back, I’ll make sure someone finds a way to save me. No matter how long it takes or what you’d have to do, I’ll come back to you, always.” “And if you don’t? You’ve done so much for me Nat. You were the only one there, I can’t lose you too. I won’t lose you.” She shushed you and lightly rocked your quivering body, leaving a small peck to your forehead. Nat wondered if that’s the only reason you wanted her to stay, because she took care of you. She knew you probably loved her, but your love would never come close to hers.

You both jumped when hearing a loud knock at the door, Steve on the other side.

“You guys ready to go? We’re all downstairs waiting.” The two of you stood up, sparing another loving glance before walking out. Everyone was suited up, the gear must have been made with the finest material.

“See you in a minute.” Were the last words you heard from your lover before she disappeared with Clint. Everyone went to different points in time, collecting each stone they could grab.

Nat was fighting with Clint, not that you knew though. You couldn’t keep your mind from wandering to her, wondering if she was okay. Clint jumped over and Nat held his hand tightly, slowly starting to lose grip.

“Let me go Nat, let me go!” He yelled out, barely hanging on any further. Nat was using Clint’s line to hang on, he almost dropped it over the edge earlier.

“Nat, please. I need to do this, for my family.” Nat screamed out his name as he kicked off the edge, falling over the cliff as she cried in agony. She suddenly awoke in water, looking around for her best friend only to realize, it wasn’t a nightmare. He was gone. Because of her. Opening her hand, she noticed a yellow rock in her hands. It was glowing in the darkness, a tear drop falling onto it.

When she got back, you were all waiting there. Nat dropped to her knees and could’ve screamed out, but she didn’t. No noise left her shaking body. You ran up to her immediately, placing your hands on her as a sort of comfort. She fell into your body, water escaping her eyes like rain.

“I tried, I tried so hard.” You nodded, tears now threatening to escape you when hearing her tone. It wasn’t like all the times you fought. It was pure pain. Hurt. Sorrow. She lost her best friend, the one who saved her. He kept her alive two times now, and she blamed herself.

“I know you did, you always do, sweetheart.” You wanted to tell her it would be okay, but you knew that would be a lie. It would never be the same without him. She turned to look at Tony, her pained face making him frown lightly.

“You need to do something. Anything! Bring him back, do it! Your science stuff, you-you can use his hair or something, you can bring him back.” The scientists looked down, they knew that wasn’t possible. Even if they did, it would take too long. They didn’t have that time to waste. They had to save the world.

“I’m sorry.” Was all they said. All they could say.

You held Nat there for what felt like hours, you didn’t care how long it took. The pain in your knees didn’t matter. The deafening silence filled the humid room, but you didn’t care. All the times Nat held you and now you were finally returning the favor.

“Do you want to lay in our bed? Maybe sleep for a bit?” Your words were the only thing that could be heard, the rest was quiet. She didn’t move, didn’t answer, she just sat there. You sighed and lifted her head up slightly, her eyes were bloodshot red as were her cheeks. You kissed each cheek with love, wiping the tears away before you placed a peck to her lips.

“Can I bring you into bed? Or anywhere? You can finally rest and I can go make you your favorite, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut into triangles.” She could’ve smiled at your words, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she nodded and let you walk her to your shared room. Nothing would ever be the same, she knew that, you knew that. She lost everyone she ever had. Her best friend, her teammates, her sister, and now possibly you. If you got Wanda back, she didn’t know if you’d stay with her. When you layed the woman down into bed, placing her favorite blankets on top of her before starting to leave. She gripped your hand, a silent beg for you to stay.

“Nat? I just want to make you some food, you must be starving.” “I just want you.” Were the first words that left her mouth in over an hour. You followed her request and laid down behind her, wrapping your arms around delicately around her waist. You thought back to all the times you were in this position, but with Nat holding you. She was always the one taking care of you, yet you barely ever got to return the favor.

A few hours later, Nat was in a deep slumber. Her cheeks were still stained, but she looked beautiful either way. A knock erupted on your door for the second time today, this time it was Tony. He walked in when hearing a small come in.

“Hey, how’s she holding up?” “Not well.” He nodded in understanding and sat down silently.

“I know it’s probably not a great time to tell her, but we need to get ready. We have everything we need and can bring everyone back with the Nano Gauntlet, Bruce said he’ll do it.” You sighed but agreed. This was your chance to get everyone back, you needed to do it. Tony walked out of the room a few minutes later and you let Nat rest for a little longer before shaking her a bit, being careful not to startle her. Her eyes slowly opened and stared into your own, a small smile marking her face before it soon disappeared.

“Nat, I understand if you’re not up for it, I do. But we can get everyone back now. Bruce is going to use the Nano Gauntlet to bring them all home. If you can’t do it, that’s okay, we all understand.” Nat knew she had to, she wanted revenge on Thanos. She wanted that bastard to die. She stood up and put on a jacket before heading out of the door, you hot on your trails following her. The others turned when hearing her voice, sending an apologetic look before starting.

The moment Bruce finished, Nat pulled you to the side. You tried seeing how the man was but you didn’t get to send him another glance as she dragged you outside of the room.

“Nat, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” She sighed and played with her fingertips, the nervous habit of hers that you picked up on over the years.

“I was going to wait till after the fight, but I can’t. Seeing what happened to Clint, I just can’t let that happen to you too. I need to let you know how I feel before it’s too late. I bought this ring a little while back because, I wanted to ask you to marry me.” You were shocked to say the least. Sure, you two have been together for a long time now, but you never really expected her to ask. You thought she would be the type to not want marriage, she didn’t talk about it often.

“Oh. I-I don’t know what to say. I mean, do you really think it’s the best time to get engaged?” She nodded at what you said, trying to make it look like she understood.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready, I just wanted to ask. We can just, pretend this never happened.” You stopped her before she could walk out, grasping her bicep in your hand.

“What if I don’t want to? What if I do want to marry you?” You received a surprised yet happy smile in return. She worried that you just felt bad and agreed, but seeing your expression made that fear go away.

“You really want that? You really want to marry me?” You nodded and she hugged you tightly, not letting you go until she remembered the ring.

“Right, the ring. I hope you like it.” There sat one of the most beautiful pieces of jewlery you’ve ever seen, it made you tear up.

“Clint helped me pick it out a few months ago,” The name caused a sting in her heart. “He said you’d love it. I hope you do.” She took your finger and slipped it on, watching as you admired the ring.

“I love it, Nat. It’s so beautiful, thank you.” “Good, I was worried you wouldn’t like it. When we win this war, because we will, I’ll propose properly.” You surprised the woman with a large hug, kissing her harshly.

“Well then, fiance, shall we go win a battle?” You laughed at her words and nodded, giving her one last kiss before bringing her out of the room. You felt genuinely happy for once, the woman you learned to love would officially be yours forever. But that nagging want of it being Wanda, filled your mind. But it would never be Wanda, not anymore. Maybe a few years ago it could’ve been, although, she’s not yours anymore. Nat is now, and you loved her. You think.

“On your left” Sam said into his earpiece, Cap turned only to see multiple portals open, all of his teammates were there. They fought, hard. Everyone fought until they won, even if it took their life. They fought until he was dead, until Thanos was finally gone. Nat never felt more relived, the person who caused her friend’s death was finally gone. For good. She didn’t have to worry any longer. Until she saw it, saw her. Wanda was standing there looking around curiously, most likely trying to find you amongst the crowd. When her eyes landed on your own, she ran. You felt arms wrap around you as the woman hugged you tightly.

“W-Wanda?” She leaned back to finally give you a good look, you were different. Your hair was longer, your body was more buff, but you were still her Y/N. Or so she thought. She moved the locks out of your face and was about to kiss you, but you moved away. Her lips collided with your cheek as she opened her eyes, looking at you confusedly. ‘

“Wanda, I’m sorry.” “What do you mean, my love? Why are you sorry?” She saw Nat appear out of the corner of her eye. The slightly older woman put her arm on your backside and looked down at you, you looked away. Nat was sending an apoligetic look to the curious woman, but she realized what was going on, you had moved on. You were no longer her girlfriend, now you were Nat’s.

“Y/N, tell me it isn’t true. Please tell me you’re still mine?” She looked desperate, the thought of losing you because she couldn’t be there was too much for her to handle.

“I’m sorry Wanda. But, Nat is my fiance, we just got engaged.” She looked at Nat with an unreadable expression, your fiance stood her ground. You felt horrible, you knew how it was to lose someone so important to you. But in her case, she had to watch as you loved another that wasn’t her. When she didn’t even do anything wrong. It wasn’t her fault, yet she was suffering for it. She was now, the second choice.

Tag list: @daddynattt @sayah13 @chaisreading @justyourwritter69 @samallen20062837392 @wifeofnatasharomanoff

#natasha x reader #natasha x fem!reader #natasha romanoff #natasha fluff #natasha romanoff fluff #natahsa romanoff #natasha angst #wanda x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff angst #wanda angst #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x fem!reader

[adversitybloomed]

HAPPY NEW YEARS !!

I just wanted to take a moment to wish everyone well wishes, prosperity and good health as we enter into 2024 ! I want to thank you all for being here & helping me to not only hone my muse, but also for being part of my life.

Each & every single one of you are important & I deeply cherish the bonds we have made with one another. I thank you for making 2023 amazing. I thank you for support both Mulan & myself as we journey & thread throughout the year.

I also want to take a moment to welcome my newcomers ! I see you, I appreciate your support & I look forward to getting to know you in 2024 !

I would also like to make a few shout outs to a few of my RL besties who have stuck by my side & whom I love & cherish deeply.

@battleguqin - Nyx, you are legit one of the most pure souls I have ever met. You are like a sister to me and one of my ride or die’s that I cherish so much. Thank you so much for making my 2023 magical. Thank you so much for the most amazing plotting, threads & feels. Thanks for being my rock and being the starlight to my sunshine. There is just so much more I want to thank you for, but we will be here until 2025 with how much good I wanna say about you ! I really hope you realize how much you mean to me & I look forward to everything that 2024 has to offer to us.

@sparesovereign - Raven, my GOAT, my ride or die, buddy. You legit are another one of my rocks that I cherish so much. I love you like a sister, and I am so grateful that I met you. I am so grateful for the feels our muses bring to us. I am so glad you found your mojo again and are back stronger than ever. Thank you so much for always being here. Thank you so much for making 2023 amazing. I really can’t wait to cause more chaos with you come 2024 !!

@incissam & @princessofmuses - Dani & Beth. You both are legit my sisters who adapted me 10+ years ago & have seen me both at my best & worst. You know I love you both right ? I know you might question why I put you both together, but considering I can’t really live & thrive without you both, & could go on a full on complementary spree only to have you both telling me to shush, I thought it would be for the best. I really look forward to entering into 2024 with you both & I hope you know that you both saved me. Love you both & let’s cause more chaos together soon !

@ka-go-me - Meaghan, thank you so much for legit always being here. I legit adore our muses together, as they have the bond of sisterhood - & I love talking to you so much. You always make me smile, your headcanon’s are so amazing & we seem, like our muses, to always be on the same wavelength. I am so grateful to have you in my life & I look forward to continue to have you going into 2024 !

@caracarnn & @luckhissoul - Fish & Liz, I am so mad at you both for making me fall in love with your boys, like so rude ! Jk, I adore you both so much. I love your boys. I love your writing & the feelings you both give me in threads ! I love when I get to talk to you both OOC wise & I am so utterly grateful to be able to have you as my writing partners - even if you make me cry with feels. I really look forward to having more with you both in 2024 !!

I also want to give credit to a few more, but I don’t want to take up the whole dash: @peculiarbeauty , @cuckoo-among-beasts , @orangeshinigami , @fighterbound , @pactclawed , @pctaldrunk , @seachant , @ssolessurvivor , @dreams-of-fate , @lianhuaes , @thuganomxcs , @luposcainus , @valorums , @penddraig - all of you, I want to thank you so much for being here, for letting me love on your muses & being your rp partner. I really enjoy talking to you OOC wise & look forward to seeing what we can come up with in together 2024 !

Once again, happy new years to everyone. Please stay safe & healthy ! Please know that I cherish you all, & if I missed anyone it wasn’t on purpose but because I am running out of writing space. Each of you are so special & honestly, you really help make the each passing year so special !

#🌸 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐒 ✧ ooc #🌸 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ✧ promo #( mobile post. )

[lunar-years]

T! From your latest ask game post.

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending? **

i'm very certain i've rambled on about most (all?) of these before, lol. But here is my truth:

General character stuff -

Jewish Roy Kent!! The O'Sullivan-Kent's are mixed faith

Roy and his sister were perhaps close when they were very small but not so much once Roy moved to Sunderland. They didn't reconnect until around the time she got pregnant with Phoebe, then became incredibly incredibly close during her contentious divorce, when Roy was the first and best person to show up for her.

Keeley's parents are divorced. also she definitely has major mommy issues and i think that's under-explored!

Jamie's dad came back into his life when he was pre-teen (i don't have an exact age but to me it was somewhere between like. the ages of nine to twelve). Old enough to already be putting himself on the football map, locally (enough for James to have taken notice, anyway) but young enough for James to have made the very deep impression on him and to hold the type of influence over him we see reflected on the show.

Simon came into the picture several years later when Jamie was an older teenager (16-17) and he and Georgie didn't get married until Jamie was playing (semi-)professionally

i feel sooooo strongly that he hasn't told a soul about that trip to Amsterdam until he tells Roy in s3. i know some people think he would have told his mum and i respect that but also. i couldn't disagree more, lol.

speaking of mummy, I also think the closeness we see them have in s3 is somewhat of a recent development. They were definitely that close when Jamie was young, but as is typical with having an abusive parent, I don't see how his relationship with his dad wouldn't have tainted his bond with his mum. To me there is a lot of things that were left unsaid between them, on both sides, for a long time, and I think the s1 bonfire scene really reflects that strain. not to say they were totally estranged, but I do think there were a few very rough years in there where jamie barely talked to her. and they reconnected around the time of the break between s1 & s2 when Jamie was back with Man City. now they're extremely extremely close.

jamie works with kids once he retires from football!! i'm not too particular as to what capacity but perhaps my favorite is that he coaches youth football at the Academy level. Like, maybe the U15s or U16s. young teenagers whose lives he can make a real difference in. just...jamie getting to be the mentor and influence for them in the way he wishes he had at that age. ahhhh.

ot3 stuff:

ot3 all have strained (at best) relationships with their parents, but in completely different ways. they all adore Georgie and Simon though and love making time to visit Manchester

they do NOT have kids ❌ Miss Keeley Jones is not EVER willingly getting pregnant i can tell you that much for damn sure

i'm ride or die ot3 and this is kind of irrelevant in a poly scenario but re: marriage none of them would change their last names i firmly believe this

look. it's not that jamie and keeley CAN'T cook. but if roy is willing to make them the majority of their meals. and do it better than either of them ever could. who are they to stop him?? (lowkey keeley's cooking IS tragic though, lol)

simon teaches roy how to bake. then they force Georgie, Jamie and Keeley to "judge" their creations as if they were competing on bakeoff. this is like. an ongoing event. there are multiple occasions, maybe once a year or something, and roy and simon spend weeks planning what they're going to do for it every time.

i think they keep their relationship a secret until Jamie retires. of course there is a thriving in-verse rpf community, lmao.

perhaps controversially i don't think they'd tell the whole team. I love it in blissful and happy and fluffy fics though :) And obviously, i think roy and jamie love the team very much, but i still think they'd only explicitly tell like, rebecca, the coaches, and then Jamie would tell his closest few friends on the team. everyone else kind of figures it out over time, though, they aren't as subtle as they think they are, but it's not really talked about? it's more like an open secret.

they have a closed poly relationship because at the end of the day they are all possessive and none of them are open to sharing with anyone but each other, lol. also like. even keeping up with two partners can be a logistical nightmare. who would have the time for more? keeley runs the calendars.

sex: Roy and Keeley switch. Jamie is mostly a sub but willing to try basically everything and anything once. also what they get up to is generally very kinky and very sex positive and most importantly they have LOTS of fun <333 the details of that would take up another 12 paragraphs but you know. i think the fandom is mostly in agreement with this lmao.

** maybe not so much ~die defending~ because if people have different opinions i definitely do not care, y'all do you. but these are the ones that are so tried and true in MY brain that if i read a different opinion or a fic featuring a contradicting viewpoint... It doesn't matter how much i enjoy it or even love it... I am still filing that away as an AU in my brain even though it's like, totally NOT 😂

#im sorry this is so longgg #i think about them so much #ted lasso #royjamiekeeley #roy kent #jamie tartt #keeley jones #asks #ask games #thanks for asking

[winter-soldier-101]

Did you really think I loved you? Part 4

Word count:1021

One year after the twins were born Aemond has been out of their lives since the day they came into this world and it made (Y/N)’s heart break.

“(Y/N) we have some guests coming here soon,”Alicent says, while playing with Aemon.

“Who is coming?”(Y/N) asks Alicent.

“Lord Stark and his sister and some northerners, you must be happy to see him again. You were great friends before your marriage to Aemond”Alicent tells (Y/N).

(Y/N) looks over at Alicent and smiles and she can’t wait to see him and maybe get to hold him one more time before he has to leave.

The arrival

(Y/N) looks out the window as Cregan's carriage pulls up to a stop and he walks out with Rickon in his arms and his sister comes out after him (Y/N) let’s out a happy cry and gets dressed and dresses the twins

“I’m sorry the King couldn’t make it outside. He is very sick and my children are very busy and the lady (Y/N) is with her children now but she should be here soon,”Alicent tells Cregan and welcomes everyone to come inside and show them their rooms.

“(Y/N) has children now”Cregan says to himself and he feels his heart break a little bit.

(Y/N) walks out as everyone is already inside and sees Cregan standing there with Rickon in his arms and she just runs into his arms and takes Rickon and kisses his little chubby cheeks and he giggles at her and pulls on your hair a little.

“I’ve missed you both so much”(Y/N) cry’s out and gives Rickon back to Cregan and hands him a large letter and tells him she will see him later on and to read the letter when he is alone in his chambers with Rickon.

“My lady the twins are ready to go to sleep”Ser Edwards tells (Y/N).

Cregan makes his way into his chambers and closes the door and locks it after putting Rickon down and opens the letter (Y/N) gave him to see a map of a secret passageway from his room to your room Cregan waits till everyone is sleeping to make his way to your room he pushes the door open and gets Rickon and makes to your room and opens the other passageway door and sees you sitting in the bed with the twins and he makes his way over to you.

“Look Rickon it’s mommy and look you have a brother and a sister to play with now”Cregan whispers to him and sets him down near the twins and kisses your forehead softly.

“I’ve missed you both so much” (Y/N) says getting up and kisses Cregan softly and lets out a small cry.

“I’ve missed you to my love”Cregan says pulling you in for another kiss.

“I’ve told him all about you and I’ve read him your letters”Cregan says pulling you to the babies.

“How long will you be here in King's Landing?” (Y/N) asks, looking up at Cregan.

“We will be here for a week and I want to spend as much time together as we can and I want Rickon to know his siblings,”Cregan says, pulling (Y/N) close to his chest.

“This is Daenys and this is Aemon” (Y/N) tells Cregan.

“I want to be with you Cregan I can’t stand being here without you and Rickon I need you both in my life and know I have Daenys and Aemon and there dragons and I just want to be a family with you my love”(Y/N) says holding Cregan close.

“I wish we could be together and just run away together my love but we can’t right now Aemond rides the largest dragon in the world and he would not hesitate to burn everything and everyone I love and care about I could live with myself if that were to ever happen”Cregan says kissing (Y/N)’s lips softly and holding you close afraid to let you go.

“I know we can’t be together now and I do not want people to die for our love as much as I want all of us to be a family we can’t have right now ”(Y/N) says letting out a small sob.

A knock at the door makes them pull away from each other and (Y/N) looks at Cregan and tells him to take Rickon and hide in the passageway till she gets them.

“Who is it?”(Y/N) asks from behind the door.

“My lady it’s Prince Aemond”Ser Edwards answers out waiting for (Y/N) to answer back or open the door.

(Y/N) unlocks the door and lets Aemond in and he closes the door behind him.

“I’m sorry I’ve been away, my mother has me going all over and I’ve missed you and the twins”Aemond says, kissing your lips softly.

“Aemond I’ve missed you so much but I was going to bed soon and I have to get up with the twins and they like to wake up early”(Y/N) tells Aemond

Aemond looks over at the twins and sees them asleep and turns back to you and kisses your lips softly.

“I’ll be back soon and when I get back I’ll fill you up and give you another babe”Aemond says, giving you one last kiss before leaving your room.

(Y/N) runs and opens the passageway door and letting Cregan walk by he moves over to the bed and lays Rickon down next to Daenys and Aemon and falls asleep with them.

Cregan moves back over to you and kisses your lips softly and pulls you up against the wall and kisses down your neck and he pulls at your nightgown and rips it off your body as he quickly pulls off his own clothes.

“Cregan please I need you I want you to make love to me please” (Y/N) whispers out into his ear pulling him close and kisses him.

Tag list:@earthangels-things @damn-stark @snh96 @lightdragonrayne @ewoods115 @targaryenmoony @misguidedasgardian @hc-geralt-23 @afro-hispwriter @dc-marvel-girl96 @isabelletxmxxsblog

#aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond imagine #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond smut #aemond targaryen x female reader

[attn-all-pickpockets]

top 5 txf episodes

I loved this prompt but also it was very hardddd, I mostly chose ones that I never shut up about lmao

"Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose"

This is my girl, this is my ride or die. I was in the Northeast when the first category 1 hurricane hit in like 50 years and I had to drive through the outer bands in a rental car with a spare tire on it and when we got home I made everyone watch this because it's my comfort episode that accompanies me through moments of triumph as well as crisis. Scully befriending the depressed old man psychic is such a great storyline for Scully and this whole ep really lets her shine. Scully has such a kindness and playfulness that she typically only shows with Mulder, but her fondness for the deadpan comedy stylings of Bruckman made her fond of him and her heartbreak when he dies is such a perfect scene. Also I just think of her smile and "there are hits and there are misses, and then there are misses :)" a lot.

2. "Leonard Betts"

If someone asked me what is the episode of The X Files that feels like the quintessential episode, I would say "Leonard Betts", which I think some would think as a weird choice. But this episode is what this show was at the height of its popularity to me. It aired after the Superbowl and the cold open is one of its best with a beheading, followed by the corpse waltzing right out of the morgue. The banter between Mulder and Scully is top notch and full of perfect Mulder quips ("blinked or winked?") and incredulous Scully deliveries ("Mulder, they're worms") and even if the scientific explanation of "evolutionary cancer" is deeply ludicrous from a scientific perspective, it is a great x-file. And the ENDING of finding out Scully has cancer is such a gut punch, just a phenomenal hour of tv.

3. "Paper Clip"

This is on here because I love the Anasazi/The Blessing Way/Paper Clip trilogy so much and I have to shout it out. I will always cape for early mythology because I think the fact that became a muddled mess makes people forget how damn good it was to begin with. So much of the early character work was done in these episodes and they're so compelling. Bringing in real history with Operation Paper Clip and connecting Mulder's father to the people Mulder is trying to investigate was a great move (that they didn't totally deliver on imo, but "sins of the father" is a great idea at the very least) and expanding the scope and complicity in the conspiracy really put what Mulder and Scully were up against in perspective. Mulder relenting and choosing to go out of hiding for Scully so she could see her sister and their conversation in the hospital room after Melissa died are some of my favorite moments of the show.

4. "Folie a Deux"

It's hard to pick a Vince episode and this could just as easily be "Pusher" (which was the episode that got me to seriously ship msr) or "Bad Blood" or almost any other episode he wrote, but "Folie a Deux" is special to me. Mulder's mental wellness and people's belief that he's crazy has been an angle that has always been present and Vince framing this as a joint delusion on Mulder and Scully's part is so fascinating and a fantastic bit or writing to me. Mulder is so discredited and dismissed in this episode and the only person who listens to him is Scully and that's a perfect distillation of their dynamic and the show itself. Also the episode is Marxist to me.

5. "Jose Chung's From Outer Space"

I thought to myself "well I can't have two Darin episodes on here" but…of course I can! This is one of the greatest episodes of TV of all time. Not just of sci-fi or network or pre-00s TV, of all TV ever made. This is one of the episodes that sets The X Files apart from its clones or other cop procedural shows and it's that it can switch genres and tones and bring this post-modern, storyline hopping masterpiece out and no one thinks twice about its place in the show or season. A lot gets said about how funny it is and the melancholic tone Darin brings to his writing, but I find myself so impressed by they way the writing and directing work to make the timeline jumping work and not end up confusing the viewer. I'll eventually talk about this more, but the shot construction to create anchor points between a re-enactment and the scene of the narrator telling this story to Mulder and Scully is so great.

#the x files #ask

[the-al-chemist]

Swansong

A/N: this month’s theme for @hp-12monthsofmagic is “School’s Out For Summer”. For Zadie, school is out forever. This story sort of follows on from Acceptance, but it can be read as a stand-alone. Features Reva Amari @lifeofkaze and Robin Willows @that-scouse-wizard. Warnings: FOMO and dubious impressions of beloved characters.

The end of the summer term was close, and for Zadie Taylor-Allen, that meant she was nearing the end of her Hogwarts education. She was not yet sure how she felt about it; on the one hand she was excited to start studying at the Wizarding Academy of Dramatic Arts, on the other, she was anxious about leaving the safety of the school she knew and loved. She didn’t yet feel that she was ready.

It did not help matters that she was the only one of her friends who would be leaving Hogwarts that year. She was only in her sixth year, and was leaving school a year early to take her place at W.A.D.A., while the rest of her classmates would continue studying for their N.E.W.T.s without her. It was not that she wished to take the N.E.W.T.s herself — on the contrary, she hated exams with a passion — but she already felt as if she were missing out on all the the fun parts of school that her friends would get to enjoy: Quidditch matches, parties, gossiping in the courtyard, and going for excursions in Hogsmeade Village. And that was without all the traditional end-of-school events that she simply would not be able to attend, or would now have to attend alone, such as leaving ceremony on the final morning of term.

Today, the invitations for the ceremony were ready to be collected, and Zadie’s closest friends — Victoire, Reva, and Robin — had all agreed to stay behind after Charms class and wait for her to get hers.

“What actually happens at this ceremony?” asked Robin.

“Not much, it’s just boring and pointless,” Reva said, and yawned theatrically as if to prove her point. “Everyone shakes McGonagall’s hand and gets a little hat, and they give out some awards, and then do a walk down to the lake and ride in the boats.”

“What’s wrong with that? It sounds alright.”

“It is at first, but then it goes on for ages. If it wasn’t for Zadie, I’d fake a stomach ache to get out of watching it again. I don’t love my brother enough to sit through it just for him. I’ll endure it for your sake, Zee, but you should know that if I die of boredom, I will haunt you.”

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad.” Victoire looked as if she were trying not to either roll her eyes or laugh, or both. She shook her head, sending ripples through her silver-blonde hair. “I went to Teddy’s last year, and I thought it was a sweet send off, even if it did take a while. It’s a tradition, a right of passage.” Reva pulled a face, but Victoire ignored her. She turned to Zadie and smiled as she added, “You’ll really enjoy it. And it’ll make your parents so proud to watch it.”

“I hope so,” said Zadie. Her front teeth grazed her bottom lip. “I still think they’re a little disappointed that I’m not finishing school properly and doing exams and things like my sister did. Not that I’d ever do that as well as her, but still… Hopefully this will make it up to them.”

After the lesson ended and the rest of her classmates filtered out into the hallway outside, Zadie approached Professor Flitwick, her Head of House, at the front of the classroom.

“Um, Professor,” she said, and his moustache twitched as he smiled at her encouragingly. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to come and collect my invitations.”

“Invitations?”

“Yes, for the leaving ceremony. I want to send some to my family so they can come and watch, if that’s okay.”

Professor Flitwick fidgeted slightly, and looked up at her with eyes filled with sympathy.

“Oh, dear,” he said awkwardly, and Zadie felt her stomach twist. “I’m not quite sure how to say this, but…”

“Have they run out of invitations? Am I too late?”

“No, no, if anything you’re too early.”

“What?”

“Miss Taylor-Allen, I am so sorry to have to say this,” said Professor Flitwick. He really did look very sorry. “Unfortunately, only final year students are allowed to take part in the leaving ceremony.”

Zadie’s heart sank. “You mean I can’t go?”

“I am afraid so.”

“Hang on,” Reva’s voice called out from the side of the classroom, where she was waiting with the other two. They both looked sad on Zadie’s behalf, but Reva did not. She looked angry. “That’s not fair! You can’t exclude Zadie from the ceremony. It’s a rite of passage!”

“It’s a rite of passage for final year students.”

“But it’s not called a ‘final year students’ ceremony, it’s called the ‘leaving ceremony’. Zadie is leaving, so she should be allowed to go!”

“I…” Professor Flitwick sighed heavily. “I shall talk to the headmistress on your behalf, Miss Taylor-Allen. It might be that we can come to some arrangement for you. Leave it with me, and I will see what I can do.”

Disappointed, Zadie thanked Professor Flitwick, and left the classroom with her friends, who were all far more determined than she was.

“Leave it with him? As if he and McGonagall will do anything,” Reva muttered angrily. “I say we should take matters into our own hands.”

“I agree,” nodded Robin. “We can find a way to make sure that Zadie gets to go to this ceremony, I’m sure of it. Even if we don’t play by the rules.”

“Playing by the rules is for Quidditch.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Zadie looked anxiously at Victoire, who smirked slightly.

“Why don’t we just wait and see what the professors say?” she suggested. Reva and Robin looked affronted, and Reva opened her mouth as if to argue, but before she could do so, Victoire continued, “If they can’t solve the problem, then it’s down to us to do it for them, isn’t it?”

The other two murmured their approval, and Reva wrapped one of her arms around Zadie’s shoulder as the four girls walked down the familiar corridor together, as they had since their earliest days at Hogwarts.

“Don’t you worry, Zadie. One way or another, we will make sure that you get the final send off you deserve.”

Unfortunately, as Reva had predicted, neither Professor Flitwick nor the headmistress were able to help her with her predicament. They had both seemed apologetic about the situation, but apparently there was nothing to be done. If even Professor McGonagall couldn’t convince the school governors to let Zadie take part in the ceremony, then no one would be able to.

At least Reva and Robin had given up on their idea of finding a way to disrupt the ceremony so that Zadie could attend. She had been worried at first about what sort of chaotic plan they might be brewing — after all, she did not want to get into trouble on her very last day at Hogwarts — but as it turned out, they had not mentioned it since the first day they considered it. They might even have forgotten about it altogether.

Or so Zadie thought, until the morning of the leavers’ ceremony arrived, and she was awoken by the sound of a wooden spoon banging on a metal pot, and opened her eyes to see Victoire, Reva and Robin all standing around her bed.

“How did you two get in here?” Zadie asked Reva and Robin. She tilted her head at the wooden spoon and saucepan Reva held in her hands. “Where did you get that?”

“Kitchens,” came Reva’s answer. “We also got all these.”

She nodded to Robin, who opened her school bag to reveal an assortment of pastries.

“It’s breakfast time,” she said.

“What about going to the Great Hall?”

“No time, we need to eat now and get your trunk to the carriages ready for the ceremony.”

Zadie swallowed her mouthful of croissant. “I’m not going to the ceremony.” She looked helplessly at Victoire. Surely Victoire would make them see sense. “I’m not, am I?”

“Don’t worry. We’ve got our own ceremony planned, just for you,” said Victoire. Her lips twitched. “You’ll love it. I promise.”

Victoire’s promise reassured Zadie a little, so she allowed herself to relax and enjoy her last breakfast with her friends. Once they had finished, Victoire helped her carry her trunk to the horseless carriages that were waiting ready to transport the students to Hogsmeade station, before all three girls escorted her to the courtyard outside the Great Hall, where the leavers’ ceremony was taking place.

“Take a seat, Miss Taylor-Allen,” Victoire told her, mock-seriously, and Zadie did as instructed. She sat on the wall of the cloisters, and watched as her friends raised their wands and pointed them at their clothes.

A moment later, Robin was clad in a tatty brown coat, Victoire in a smart three-piece suit, and Reva in robes of emerald green. Zadie frowned.

“What is this?”

“It’s your leavers’ ceremony,” said Reva, in a clipped Edinburgh accent that made her sound almost exactly like Professor McGonagall. She cleared her throat. “Dearly beloved students, we are gathered here today to witness the leaving of Zadie Taylor-Allen from Hogwarts School. Miss Taylor-Allen has been a credit to the school in her time here, performing unimaginable feats, the likes of which I have not seen in my time as an educator. And I’ve been an educator for, like, fifty years.” She turned to Robin. “How old is McGonagall?”

“I dunno, maybe a hundred?”

“And I’ve been an educator for seventy years, maybe even eighty. More if I’ve been using really good moisturiser, I dunno,” Reva continued, her Scottish accent having returned, a little less convincing than it had been before. “We shall now hear from the deputy headmaster and head of Ravenclaw house, Professor Flitwick.”

“I have been Zadie’s Head of House since she was a very small and cute eleven-year-old,” Victoire said in a squeaky voice that was reminiscent of Professor Flitwick’s. “Now she is less small, but still very cute, and much better at both dancing and playing Quidditch.”

“But not so good that she stopped Gryffindor from winning the Cup this year,” Robin chipped in.

Reva nodded and beat her fist to her chest twice before raising it into the air above her head.

“Go lions,” she said, and Robin repeated the gesture.

“Anyway,” Victoire shook her head, “I, and everyone else in Ravenclaw, for that matter—”

“In all of Hogwarts.”

“— are incredibly proud of her. We are sad to see her go, but we can’t wait to see what incredible things she does once she is no longer held back by her troublemaking friends or stupid school rules.”

“Like ‘only seventh years at the leavers’ ceremony’,” said Robin.

“Or ‘no Ever-Bashing Boomerangs in the Potions classroom’,” Reva added. “Or ‘Professor Trelawney’s crystal balls are not to be used as Quaffles’.”

“Yeah, or—”

“Now, because we are time-limited,” Victoire interrupted Robin with a pointed look, “we will proceed to the end of the ceremony. When I call your name, you will step here so that the headmistress can put a hat on your head.” She cleared her throat and looked at the palm of her hand before calling out, “Zadie Taylor-Allen!”

Zadie laughed and stood up to the sound of her friends’ applause. “You haven’t actually stolen one of those hats, have you?”

Reva shook her head and held up a conical silver hat with an elastic chin strap and multicoloured ribbons cascading from the point of it. Zadie laughed harder as Reva placed the hat on her head and pulled the elastic under her chin.

“Next, Professor Hagrid will escort you to the last part of our ceremony.”

“There’s more?”

“Yeh, bu’ yeh have ter follow me ter the lake first,” said Robin. She walked away, mumbling, “I should not have said that.”

They walked down the cliff path in single file, Robin loudly imitating Professor Hagrid the entire duration of the journey. When they got to the bottom of the hill, they paused on the lakeshore, where the wooden boats that they had taken to the castle from the station on their first ever night had Hogwarts were waiting for the final years on the pebbled bank.

“Pick one.”

Zadie blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Pick a boat,” Reva told her.

“What for?”

“To ride back across the lake, duh!”

“I can’t do that,” Zadie shook her head. “I can’t steal a boat. Victoire, tell them!”

But Victoire was on Robin and Reva’s side.

“It’s not stealing, it’s borrowing,” she reasoned. “And you deserve to have the same boat ride as everyone else.”

“But—”

“What are they going to do, put you in detention? Expel you? You’re already leaving!”

“And you’re leaving on one of these boats. We won’t take no for an answer. So pick one.”

There was no point in arguing; Zadie had learnt the hard way that when all her friends had made a decision, there was no way that they would change their minds. So, she looked at the boats and pointed to the one nearest the boat house. The girls cheered and set to work, carrying it to the water’s edge and into the lake itself, standing shin-deep in the water and holding it still for Zadie.

“Your chariot, milady,” said Robin. Zadie giggled, and with one final, cautious look back at the castle, joined them in the water.

It was ice cold, and soaked through her trainers and socks. She shivered, and took hold of Reva’s hand to step into the boat, which bobbed and rocked under her feet. Once she had sat down, the girls gripped the sides of the boat.

“Ready?”

“No, wait,” said Zadie. She bit her lip. “I just… Thank you. For this, and for everything. You guys are the best. You’re the best friends I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah, and we’re going to be your best friends for ages yet, so don’t start getting mushy,” Reva warned. “Victoire’s eyeliner isn’t waterproof.”

“Well, I didn’t think we’d be actually getting in the lake…”

“Also, we need to go. McGonagall’s coming.”

At Robin’s words, the other three girls looked up at the lake path, where the real Professors Hagrid and McGonagall were leading the seventh years down to the lakeshore. Zadie’s friends’ hands tightened on the sides of the boat.

“On three,” Victoire said decisively. “One…”

“Two…”

“Three!”

In perfect unison, Reva, Robin and Victoire pushed hard on the little wooden boat, which began to glide away through the water, small waves rippling away from its bow as it cut through the gleaming surface. The sunshine reflected on the water and warmed Zadie’s face, and a gentle breeze stirred her hair. Behind her, her friends were clapping, hollering, and laughing, and Zadie found herself laughing too, even as the headmistress strode across the pebbled shore towards them, a stern look on her face. But she did not look nearly as disapproving as Zadie had seen her look before, and behind her Professor Flitwick was giggling and… was that a single tear of joy tumbling from the gigantic eye of Professor Hagrid?

Clearly, none of them were that angry, and even if they were, it was too late. Zadie was gone, Zadie had left, Zadie was untouchable now.

Above her, a group of long-necked white birds had taken flight, the image of them reflecting on the surface of the lake and causing a familiar melody to play in her head that she hummed to herself as she sailed away from Hogwarts, ready to take to the next stage in her life.

She was ready.

#Zadie Taylor Allen #victoire weasley #Reva Amari #Robin willows #hp next gen #hp12mom