#but we only hooked up a few times in that time period and it was always protected

[officialaemondtargaryen]

is it casual now?

Prompt: You and Eddie totally aren't dating, right?

Characters: Eddie Munson x Reader, brief mentions of Steve Harrington x Reader.

Word Count: ~5.5k

Author’s Note: Happy birthday @felteppsters

Playlist: Casual by Chappell Roan

Warnings: Smut & fluff.

If you had a dollar for every time someone asked if you and The Freak were dating, you'd have made four dollars this week alone.

And it's only Tuesday.

You didn't go out of your way to spend time with Eddie Munson, and he never once asked if you wanted to hang out outside of school, but somehow you always managed to find yourself getting fingered in the back of his van in the parking lot during study hall. And he was known to drop a note in your locker on occasion asking you to meet him in that one bathroom that no one ever used for a quickie during lunch.

But that was neither here nor there.

The point was that people were beginning to notice.

It wasn't a bad thing. It's not like dating Eddie would ruin your reputation- despite what some people would say. It was just that when people asked if you and Eddie were dating, you didn't know how to answer because you, yourself, were not exactly sure what that answer was.

So you just said no, and you probably said it a little too defensively.

Does hooking up occasionally count as dating? No. In order to be dating someone you had to at least go out on an actual date, right? The night he took you to his trailer to 'fuck you in a real bed' and ordered pizza delivery didn't count, either, no matter how long you cuddled with him afterwards.

"I heard a rumor," it was Robin. She fell in step with you as you both exited fourth-period Algebra and headed toward the cafeteria. "And I just need a little bit of clarification, so forgive me if what I'm about to ask is-"

"I swear to God, Robin, if you're about to ask me if I'm dating Eddie Munson," you held up your hand and cut her off, stopping short in the middle of the hallway; your boots scuffing the speckled white tile floor, causing a slight traffic jam of bodies.

"What!?" She gasped. Either she was a really great actress or she genuinely hadn't heard. "There's a rumor going around that you're dating Eddie Munson?"

"No?" you deflected and picked up the pace. "What did you hear?"

"That you're dating Eddie Munson." With that, your face fell and she pulled her lips between her teeth to keep herself from laughing. "Well, is it true? Because Maria Fuentes heard from Charlie Dawson that Tina saw you guys in the parking lot last Friday and she did not hold back on the details."

"First of all," you said stopping at your locker. "I feel violated."

"Well, you were, you know-" Robin held up her fingers and made a lewd gesture causing you to cringe.

"Second of all-" You began again, only to be cut off by a folded piece of paper falling from your locker to the floor as you opened the flimsy, metal door. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as Robin quickly bent down and snatched the note from under you before you had the chance.

"You were saying?" She asked, a playful smirk pulling at her lips as she dodged every one of your attempts to take the note back from her. "Meet me. You know where. Signed, E.M." She read aloud. "Oh, look, there's even a little heart. That is so cute!"

"Second of all," you repeated after you had snatched the crumpled paper from her hands. "We are not dating."

Eddie's lips were on yours the moment the bathroom door closed behind you; before you were even able to flip the lock. You hadn't seen him since last Friday, and you could easily tell that he had gotten needy over the weekend. You wanted to enjoy the moment, but all that you could think about was this rumor.

He took a few steps forwards, pushing you back to the double sink until you were sitting on the counter; pushing himself between your legs, his hands falling to your sides, fingertips digging into your flesh. His lips were everywhere, biting and sucking hungrily as he squeezed every inch of your body he could get his hands on.

You placed your palm firmly on his chest and lightly pushed him away from you. He took a step back and you took in his appearance; tight denim jeans, a flannel wrapped around his hips, t-shirt just slightly messy enough to reveal a scruffy happy trail below his navel. His jeans were especially tight in the crotch, and his eyes were dark with desperation as he returned your gaze. He ducked his head to meet your lips once again, but you turned your head and ensured his lips fell to your cheek instead.

"Something's definitely up with you," he said softly as he placed another kiss on your temple.

He looked so good and made you feel so good, you just wanted to pull him back down to you and fuck him in this bathroom for the umpteenth time, but you couldn't. He stepped back and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket; looking so cool as he placed one between his lips and took a long drag, sending smoke billowing around the tiny room.

"You haven't heard?" You asked. He shrugged. "Someone saw us Friday in your van and now the entire school thinks we're dating."

"Oh," he let our a sarcastic chuckle. "And that's a problem for you, I guess? Can't be seen with the freak, right?"

"No," you rolled your eyes at the fact that he would even suggest that. "I just didn't know if- are we?"

He shrugs again, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I thought it was just casual."

"Casual?" You ask, and he nods. "Okay, well, I have to go. My next class is all the way on the other side of the building and I don't want to be late."

He can tell by your tone that you're upset.

"What do you want me to say?" He asks, making one last attempt to make you stay as you pick up your book bag from the floor.

"Nothing."

"You're pissed," he actually reached for you this time, but you shrugged him off.

"No," you replied. "I'm just-" you paused for a moment looking for the right words. "I'm casual." He winced. "Have a good day, Eddie."

You wanted to slam the door in his face, but it wasn't that type of door, so you opted for storming off loudly. As you rounded the corner you knocked shoulders with some girl from the Cheerleading squad who yelled at you to watch where you were going, but you didn't care to respond. Your legs were carrying you as quickly as they could without breaking into a full sprint down the halls of Hawkins High.

It wasn't a lie when you stated that your next class was on the other side of the school. You were sweating by the time you reached your desk. Robin had gotten there first, slumped back in her assigned seat with a smirk on her face as you sat down, trying to catch your breath.

"Long commute?" She asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"Shut the hell up, Buckley." You snapped.

"Uh oh," she held her hands up in defense. "Must be some trouble in paradise."

"I told you earlier, Eddie and I are not dating."

"Roger that."

The last bell couldn't come soon enough. All that you wanted to do was get home and get into bed- and preferably cry into a bowl of ice cream. You'd have never imagined yourself crying over the likes of Eddie Munson, but the thought of losing whatever it was that you had with him was upsetting.

He was your friend, after all. You had a lot in common with him. He could make you laugh and there was no shortage of conversation when you were around him. He was always getting shit from his friends, but you loved the fact that he never shut the hell up. And when there wasn't a conversation to be had, there was always music; whether it was his long list of cassette tapes or him strumming away on his guitar, there was never a dull moment.

And here you were ruining it over a label.

Robin held the door open for you as you both stepped out into the warm summer weather. Waves of students began lining up in the parking lot for their respective busses, but you typically walked home when the weather was nice.

"So since you're not dating Eddie Munson," Robin began and you couldn't help but roll your eyes so hard that it almost gave you a headache. "I was wondering if you might want to go on a double date with Vickie and myself?"

"A double date typically involves two couples."

"Right, you're absolutely right." Robin was stuttering. "I have this friend and he is also single. Problem solved."

"Steve?"

"Yeah."

"No."

"Wh- Why?"

"Because I have nothing in common with Steve and Steve is a prick," you replied bluntly.

Robin rolled her eyes. "He's actually not, like, at all. Besides, I talk about you all the time to him and he said that he would really like to meet you."

"He must have forgotten that he spent the majority of my freshman and sophomore year bullying me with Tommy H and Carole," you muttered under your breath.

Your friend reached out and grabbed you by the shoulder, stopping you in place and spinning you around to face her. A sigh escaped your lips as you looked her in the eye.

"That was a long time ago. I wasn't a huge fan of him when I first met him, either." She gave you a lopsided smile and you found her attempts to win her friend a date with you amusing. "I promise you that it's worth a shot. So, if you change your mind, we're going roller skating on Saturday night."

"You rollerskating?" You laughed and heard a car honk a few times as it pulled up.

"You're so funny!" She stated sarcastically.

Steve gave you a derpy smile as he rolled the passenger side window down. He was wearing his Family Video vest. "Good afternoon, ladies." He called out smoothly, you returned with a small wave.

"Sleep on it?" Robin asked as she opened the door to Steve's car.

"Fine," you rolled your eyes. "I'll think about it."

Robin smiled as she ducked into the passenger seat and closed the door behind her. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

Saturday came sooner than expected, and you had to admit that you were nervous. If someone had told you a year ago that you'd be going on a date with Steve Harrington, you'd probably punch them in the throat. Hell, if someone told you that a week ago, you'd still be swinging.

You had avoided Eddie at all costs throughout the rest of the week. Though, you'd be lying if you said that you weren't a little disappointed there were no notes left in your locker, or that he didn't find some way to talk to you after you left him standing in that bathroom Tuesday afternoon. You even waited up some nights hoping for a phone call or a pebble on the window, but none came.

It took over an hour and half to pick an outfit. Almost every article of clothing you owned was crumpled on the floor or tossed on the bed as you tried on a dozen different outfit combinations. It was the roller rink, so you wanted to be comfortable, but it was technically a date, so you also wanted to at least seem like you tried. Finally, as the clock ticked closer to seven, you decided on jeans, an off-shoulder top, and your Converse. You really didn't care to impress Steve Harrington; you didn't care in freshman and sophomore year and you certainly didn't now.

"I thought you said you had a date," your mother mentioned as you stepped into the living room. She was on the couch watching Who's The Boss, a jar of mixed nuts in her lap.

"I am," you replied as you shrugged into your denim jacket. She looked you up and down and you rolled your eyes. "We're going rollerskating; comfort was the priority!"

The distant sound of a car horn honking interrupted the conversation, prompting you to glance out the front door. Steve, acting as the evening's chauffeur, awaited with Robin and Vickie in the backseat.

"Don't be out too late," your mother muttered between mouthfuls of peanuts. "But enjoy yourself."

As the heavy glass door swung open, a wave of familiar sounds and vibrant colors enveloped your senses. The Rollerdome was typically busy on a Saturday night, but tonight it seemed everyone in Hawkins had the same idea to go skating. The neon lights that adorned the rink's interior created a kaleidoscope of vivid hues; fluorescent pinks, electric blues, and neon greens adorned the walls, blending with the glow of disco balls suspended from the ceiling. Upbeat pop music and the thud of roller skates on the smooth, wooden floors flooded your ears as Robin and Steve bickered over which table to claim for the evening.

"I vote this one," Robin declared with unwavering confidence, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "That way, we've got front-row seats to all the wipeouts!"

"That is the exact reason why no one sits at this table, Robin," Steve countered with exasperation. "Everyone knows that the floor is slick there and when someone takes a spill, it's usually right into the table." He pauses before looking at you. "Bye-bye chili dogs."

You can't help but suppress a small smile, "I think it's perfect. If there's a chance one of those uppity assholes comes flying face first into our table, it'll be the highlight of my entire year."

"Can't argue with that logic," Steve added quickly. "Good choice, Robin."

She rolled her eyes and dragged Vickie off towards the rental counter. You casually tossed your bag on the top of the table; a clear marker that it was claimed. Steve removed his jacket and placed it next to your bag before running a hand through his thick, dark hair. It was clear that he was nervous as his eyes darted around the roller rink. He definitely didn't give off the same 'King Steve' aura that you remembered so well.

Maybe you'd give him a chance.

Just kidding.

You turned on your heel and walked off towards the snack bar, drawn in by the delicious aroma of extra cheese pizza and buttered popcorn, leaving Steve scrambling to catch up with your determined stride. Robin wanted a pretzel and a Coke slushy while Vickie had asked for cheese fries and an orange soda. You wanted nachos but agreed when Steve ordered to split a pizza, doing his best to impress you as he paid for everyone, but instead, all he got out of you was a slight eye roll. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Vickie lead a wobbly Robin out onto the rink. A chuckle escaped your lips as you witnessed their valiant attempts to navigate the rink without falling prey to the more seasoned skaters.

"So what are you into?" Steve asked as he filled up his drink at the fountain machine. "What do you like?"

"Uh," you weren't really sure what to say. You still couldn't really get past the fact that Steve Harrington was trying to have a conversation with you. "I like music."

"Yeah?" He asked. "I like music."

"Cool."

"This is a good song," he replied and pointed awkwardly to the overhead speakers while Another One Bites The Dust by Queen played loudly.

You couldn't help but think of the irony and did your best to suppress a laugh before Steve got the impression that you thought he was funny. Oh, how this date was failing epically; which you were already anticipating, so at least you hadn't gotten your hopes up about it. Steve was almost trying too hard to force a spark between the two of you, but without Robin around- which was often because she was too busy flailing about on her skates while Vickie tried her hardest to keep her from falling- it was absolutely boring.

At least the two of them seemed to be having a good time.

As the night continued on, you found yourself gradually shedding the initial reserve that had clung to you like a second skin. The pulsating rhythm of the music, the laughter of your friends, and the infectious joy of gliding across the smooth floor started to work its magic. A genuine smile tugged at the corners of your lips as Steve, Vickie, and Robin circled the rink alongside you, sharing jokes and banter.

"I need something to drink!" You yelled over the music at your friends before carefully exiting the floor onto the carpet.

Steve exited with you, gliding up to the table with ease; moving around you to the music, dancing on his skates. The hesitant glances you'd given him earlier transformed into playful exchanges, and you couldn't help but admit that his efforts to charm you had slowly but surely begun to work.

As Robin and Vickie continued to skate around the rink, something caught your eyes in the corner; a familiar, curly head of brown hair in the back towards the arcade. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his brown eyes pinned to you as his friends huddled around one of the pinball machines.

You smirked softly as the music changed. In the background you could hear Steve talking, but you were too busy having a staring contest with Eddie from across the room.

"So what d'ya say?" Steve asked.

"What?" You asked, reluctantly tearing your eyes away from Eddie.

"It's a slow song," he mentioned. You could see a blush creeping to his cheeks. "Did you want to couple's skate?"

You agreed, allowing Steve to take your hand and lead you out onto the rink. It was wrong of you to use Steve in the way that you were, especially since you were just starting to like him. But the satisfaction that you felt seeing Eddie roll his eyes as you and your date skated by was too good to pass up. And yes, you faked the giggles and latched on to Steve's arm a little more with each time you passed Eddie, really twisting that knife as much as you could.

But hey, it was just "casual" right?

As the song came to a close and Steve led you by the hand back to your table. You couldn't help yourself but to glance back to the corner of the rink towards the arcade, only to see Eddie push himself off of the wall and stomp off towards the exit.

"I'll be right back," you called over to Steve as the song ended. "I need to get some fresh air."

"I'll come with!" Steve offered but you placed a hand on his arm to stop him before he could unlace his skates.

"I'll be okay," you assured him with a sweet smile. "I'll be right back."

Hurriedly, you unlaced your skates and shoved your feet into your worn-down tennis shoes before chasing after Eddie. The summer air was still very humid as you stepped out of the cool air conditioning and into the parking lot. The sunset was barely lingering on the horizon and the sky was a mixture of periwinkle and orange. To your right, you could see Eddie walking away from you and towards his van.

"Hey!" You called to him. He turned around to see it was you and threw his head back dramatically before turning back to his van. "What is your problem?"

"Steve Harrington, really?" He spat, turning to you once again.

"Oh, come off it!" You replied, closing the gap between you. "Jealousy does not suit you, babe."

"Steve fucking Harrington?" He asked again. "I mean what do you even talk about with that guy? Different variations of the color beige?"

"At least he can stand to be seen with me in public!"

You were standing toe-to-toe with him now, chests heaving. His eyes squinted as he stared down at you.

"You want to be seen in public?" He asked. "Careful what you ask for, princess."

Before you could protest, his hands were on your shoulders, maneuvering you to his van; walking you backward until your back was pressed up against the side door. "Hopefully Harrington will wander out here looking for you." He reached a hand behind you, swinging the door open, and pushed you in. "He gives me the impression of someone who likes to watch."

Eddie crawled into the van after you, leaving the door open, not caring who saw or heard. His lips were on yours in an instant. You moaned as he ducked his head into your neck, working your nerves as he popped the button on your jeans. He didn't even care to pull them all the way off, or your shoes for that matter. As soon as he had pulled your pants down far enough to expose your pussy to him, he held your legs over his head and began thumbing your clit; spreading a slick coat of wetness along your swollen lips. He lifted you up, throwing your legs over his shoulder as his tongue hungrily delved into your core.

You gasped in surprise, hands flying to his hair, wrapping around the thick of his roots. You could hear him fumbling with his belt buckle as his tongue worked your dripping folds. Once he had freed his girthy cock, he lowered you down, still holding your legs over his shoulders with his arms now snaked around your thighs as he lined himself up with your core.

Without warning, he shoved his cock into the deepest part of you, feeling you tighten and loosen around his length. You moaned loudly, forgetting that the side door to his van was still wide open.

"Should I send you back to King Steve filled with my cum?" He grunted as he thrusted against you. "Let him hold your hand as you feel me dripping into those cute, little panties?"

Your eyes rolled back as he continued to pump into you.

"Look at you," he whimpered, so close already to finding his own release. He dragged his thumb across your bottom lip and you took his digit into you mouth. "Fuck!"

You could feel his cock pulsing against your walls as he filled you with warm ribbons of his cum. Eddie crashed on top of you, his face buried in your neck as he tried to catch his breath. Your hands moved to his shoulders, pushing him off of you with a sigh. You were already pulling your jeans up over your hips and fixing your shirt.

"What is it now?" He asked.

"It's nothing, Eddie." You replied.

"Oh, it's something."

You said nothing and stood up out of his van. Half of you wanted to just walk away and leave him there, like you had on Tuesday, but you couldn't do that again. You were miserable after the first time you did that- so miserable that you agreed to go on a date with Steve Harrington, of all people. This time you turned to him, looking him dead in the eye as you tried to find the right words.

"I'm not just some easy girl, Eddie." You spat at him. "I allowed you to fuck me in the parking lot, and in the bathroom, and in the auditorium that one time because I like you. I guess- I just thought that you liked me, too. I thought I was more than just some girl that you go down on in the passenger seat of your van, but I was wrong."

He opened his mouth to say something, but you held your hand up to stop him, wanting to get it all out.

"You just want sex," you continued. "You don't want to date me, you don't want me to be your girlfriend, you just want something casual, and I'm not that."

"What are you, then?" He asked.

"Leaving."

He said nothing as he watched you turn away, leaving him completely dumbfounded. For once, you felt like you had the upper-hand in this game the two of you had been playing for months now.

The walk from Eddie's van to the front doors of the Rollerdome felt like miles as the gravel of the pavement crackled beneath your feet with each step. You half expected him to run after you, take you in his arms, and confess his love for you, but you were met with nothing but silence. With a final glance over your shoulder, you reentered the roller rink, leaving Eddie to grapple with the unspoken complexities that lingered in the warm, Summer air.

The electric energy of the rink greeted you, once again; a stark contrast to the mood you had created in the parking lot. You didn't want to be here any longer and decided upon re-entry that you were just going to go home. Robin, Vickie, and Steve were all huddled around the table as another slow ballad played loudly through the speakers.

"There you are!" Robin greeted with a lukewarm slice of pizza in her hand. She took immediate notice of your changed demeanor and asked, "is everything okay?"

"No," you replied quickly as you grabbed your jacket. "I think I am just going to go home."

"Home?" Robin asked. "Now?" She stood up and pulled you over to the side away from Steve and Vickie. "Does this have anything to do with Eddie? I saw you running out after him earlier."

"Just forget it, Robin, okay?" You sighed as you turned towards her. You looked over her shoulder to see Steve and Vickie watching you. You lowered your voice, "It's over, okay? Yes, I'm upset about it and I hate that I'm upset about it. I wasn't expecting to actually like him."

Robin sighed, "I didn't realize it was like that, I'm sorry."

You shrug your shoulders and shove your hands in your jacket pockets. "It's fine, I'll get over it."

She gave you a half smile, "can we at least give you a ride. I'm sure Steve won't mind driving."

"I'm just going to walk," you muttered. "It's not far."

"Alright, catch you on Monday! Last week of senior year!" She exclaimed and raised her hands, mimicking pompoms for added flair. She outstretched her arms and wrapped them around you and provided a tight squeeze.

"Can't wait," you groaned unenthusiastically.

Monday came and went and before you knew it, the final bell of Friday rang throughout those hideous green and gold hallways as a sea of graduates congregated in the gym; tossing their shimmering green caps into the air, signaling the beginning of the rest of your lives. In one hand, your diploma and in the other, your yearbook filled with well-wishes and promises to keep in touch-- most of which you hoped would forever be unkept.

Robin found you outside in the courtyard after she had managed to escape her parents.

"Here's to the first summer of the rest of our lives," she said breathlessly. "Steve and I are going to the mall if you want to come, spend some of this graduation cash from my grandparents."

"I'm okay," you smiled at her. "Raincheck?"

"If you say so," she rolled her eyes. "Where are your folks?"

"My dad had a little too many of those little sandwiches they were giving out," you made a face. "Mom had to take him home early."

"I'm sure my parents could give you a ride home, if you wanted," she said with a soft smile.

Over her shoulder you watched as Eddie, still draped in his cap and gown, rushed off towards the back of the parking lot. "That's okay, I have a ride," you replied with a smirk.

You gave her a hug and slipped away; turning on your heel and escaping the crowd through the parking lot. As the cars grew thin, you noticed a familiar white van in the back, parked in its usual spot. The side door was open and Eddie was sitting in the back; a cigarette in between his lips and his guitar in his lap. His diploma was tossed up on the dashboard, and his cap and gown were tossed in the passenger seat.

He strummed skillfully as you walked up the side of his van. His eyes were lulled shut and his head was titled back on the headrest. He hummed softly and your lips couldn't help turning into a smile. He was so undeniably perfect and he didn't even know it.

"Is that new?" You had been hanging out with Eddie long enough now to know his songs by heart. He always asked your opinion on his songwriting.

His eyes fluttered open, but his fingers continued strumming. You could see his gaze taking you in as you effortlessly leaned against the passenger door. He shrugged lazily and tilted his head back once again, staring up at the scuffed metal ceiling of his van.

"I was feeling inspired," he finally replied as he exhaled smoke out of the corner of his mouth. "It's about a terrible, evil temptress who collects the souls of the men of the realm." You quirked an eyebrow at him. "Until one day, she meets a kind and handsome young man who doesn't have a soul to give. So instead, he gives her his heart."

"Sounds a bit dramatic," you replied as you tried to hide the smile creeping to your lips, once more.

"I was thinking about the other night," his fingers stopped strumming as he reached up to pull the cigarette from his lips. He exhaled another cloud of smoke.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, see," he took another drag from his smoke. "I do like you and I do want you to be my girlfriend, always have."

You threw up your hands, "It's hard for me to believe that, Eddie! We fuck nearly every day but you can't take me out on one date? How am I supposed to believe that you want me to be your girlfriend if you can't even respect me enough to take me out!?"

"We have too gone on dates! I bought you pizza that one time!" He exclaimed as he set his guitar back down in the case and snapped it shut. "And we watched your favorite movie!"

"We watched Troll," you deadpanned.

"Yeah, we did," he replied as he stood up out of the van. He towered over you as he stood up straight. "And after it was over you said that it was your new favorite movie."

"I was being SARCASTIC!"

"God damnit!" He spat right back.

"You took me back to your trailer because you were tired of fucking me in this van!" His jaw dropped at the accusation. "And the only reason you ordered pizza was because there was nothing else to eat and you struggle to even microwave a frozen TV dinner!"

His hand flew over his chest as he gasped. "You really are an evil and terrible temptress! Your words are venomous!"

You sighed, "Tell me honestly... is there something wrong with me?"

"You think there's something wrong with you?" Eddie asks, a small laugh escaping his perfect lips. He shakes his head and moves his hands up your arms to your shoulders, looking at your straight on. "Sweetheart, you're perfect."

A blush creeps to your cheeks and you can practically feel yourself melting in his hands.

"You're perfect, like, way too good for me," he continued, a bashful grin playing on his lips. "I should've said it before, a million times."

"You think?" You asked.

"Let's just start over, okay?" He pleaded and jutted his hand out to you as if he was asking for a handshake. "Hi, I'm Eddie. Will you be my girlfriend?"

You narrowed your eyes as you glanced down at his hand, pursing your lips in a futile attempt to suppress a smile. Fuck, you hated how goddamn charming he was. Giving up fully to him, you accepted his hand. Though, before you could utter a single word, he pulled you in for a lingering kiss that left you breathless.

"Say yes," he whispered as he pulled away, his lips hovering just above yours.

"Yes," you whispered as you look up into his dark brown eyes.

#Eddie munson #Eddie munson x y/n #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson fic #Eddie munson imagine #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson drabble #Eddie munson smut #Eddie munson x you #stranger things #Steve harrington #robin buckley #Joseph quinn #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader

[certifiedfreec]

i can’t stop thinking about neighbor!graves… 🤔

🏡 you’re new to the neighborhood, getting all your things moved in and seemingly drowning in all the boxes of stuff you have. you ordered some items to replace the ones that got damaged or lost during transit, so that only added on to the cardboard-ridden mess that was your new living room.

🏡 a few days after settling in, you finally notice one of your packages has a mysterious name on it: phillip graves. you suddenly feel bad; how long has this guy been missing his delivery?? you bustle out your door in your pajamas, looking for the house number that matches the one on the package until you finally find it. it’s a fairly large house with dark, sophisticated paint. it’s across and over from yours with a huge black truck backed into the driveway. very snazzy for a truck, you think, hurrying your way to the tall entry door and ringing the doorbell.

🏡 “hey, how can i help ya?” his slight twang is warm and uplifting when he opens the door, eyeing you with a keen interest. god, he’s pretty. he sees what’s standing before him in the cutest little pj set and he’s feeling like an angel was dropped at his doorstep. meanwhile, you’re freaking out- standing there in your scrubby pajamas in front of this ridiculously attractive man, who is apparently your neighbor, and you’ve been holding onto his package without him knowing. (you realize there’s another package of his you’d like to hold though- ba dum tss!)

🏡 you shyly introduce yourself, pointing toward your house and then handing him the box, which he accepts with a teasing “gonna have to tell the HOA about the new thief on the block,” and a quick wink. it nearly melts you, but we must stay focused brothers!! he thanks you and introduces himself as phillip, taking the chance to let you know that you caught him at a good time because he’s often out for extended periods of time with his work. the poor baby must exhaust himself with how busy he is :(

🏡 you hear what he’s saying and being the new, good little neighbor you are, you offer to swing by and grab his mail, check on his plants, and do some basic house upkeep whenever he’s gone. hook, line, and sinker- it’s just what he wants to hear. he accepts your offer with that pearly grin of his, but not without adding his contact info to your phone so he can let you know when he’ll be out of town :’) he’s just so handsome that you feel like you won the jackpot!

🏡 from that day on, it’s like you keep bumping into each other outside- how silly! you start to find some excuses to be out front, maybe to check your roof for any damage or plant some flowers along the side yard, and whaddaya know, neighbor!graves soon finds himself outside giving his big ‘ol truck a wash (you could swear it’s already spotless). god, those flexing muscles and the wet t-shirt clinging to them are much more interesting than your rhododendrons.

🏡 he’s such a friendly neighbor- he’s really taken a liking to you! <3 whenever he’s actually home, he’s got your grocery bags carried inside or he’s grilled some barbecue that you’d be “downright ridiculous not to try”- his words, not yours! it’s delicious, of course, and he credits all his skills to his old man and his “coworkers.” you decide to bake him some sweets in return, and he just about melts. you’re just so good, and so is your baking! he’d really like to taste something else though, too…

🏡 now, neighbor!graves is a pretty nosy guy, so he’s taken it upon himself to keep you in the loop on all the drama in the neighborhood. but really, can you blame him? it’s in his nature to find intel- someone in the community has to do it! this is also a subtle way of letting you know that he’ll be keeping an eye on you, too- because he’s gotta look out for his fellow neighbors, especially if they’re adorable ;)

🏡 eventually he’s away for a few weeks and you’re on deck to pick up his mail, water his indoor plants, all that good stuff. he gives you a key before he leaves and tells you “go ‘head and keep it, mi casa es su casa,” fully inviting you to get comfy in his space- and you do! his furniture is so sleek yet so cozy, his living room complete with a super plush leather couch and a ridiculously large tv. you gather from all his medals and badges decorating the place that he’s very accomplished at what he does- this guy’s the real deal. you also get a nagging feeling that you want to spend more time in his space- it’s just so comfortable, and it smells like sweet vetiver and crisp mint :’)

🏡 so… neighbor!graves, being the nosy guy that he is, has been tracking when you’ve been going over by checking his high-end front door camera from his phone. he can’t help but get flustered at the idea of you in his most personal space- god, he wants you in his bed- and he starts to remember your routine. when he’s finally finished with his operation, he may or may not schedule his flight so that he arrives home shortly after the time usually head over, and your entire body stills when you hear his garage go up. he walks in with some heavy-looking bags wearing an all-black outfit, and you almost swoon. he’s such a man.

🏡 woops, surprise! he apologizes for forgetting to mention when he’d be getting home. he’s so damn excited to see you in his house though, so cute and dutiful, having left his plants perfectly hydrated and not a speck of dust in the area. he has an inkling-no, a certainty- that you’d be an amazing housewife. he invites you to stick around for a drink since you’re already there anyway, and of course you accept since you’d be “downright ridiculous” if you didn’t!

🏡 after you fill him in on the neighborhood drama he missed over some scotch (he is loving your intel collection skills, by the way), he reaches for his wallet to get you some cash for all the trouble- this man was really about to give you a wad of hundreds for your menial house chores! unbelievable! you immediately shoo it away, insisting that it really was no big deal… well, now you’ve left him stumped, because how else could he ever show his appreciation for your hard work while he was away??

🏡 by eating your pussy, of course! it takes very little resistance on both your ends until you’re sprawled out on his luxuriously soft bed with his head between your thighs, moaning and mewling so loud from the perfect licks and swirls on your aching, needy clit that his front door camera can practically pick up on your noises :’) your slick is getting all over his satiny sheets, but he doesn’t even pay that any mind. a few sharp sucks to your sensitive bundle of nerves and the scratch of his light blond stubble along your inner thighs has you cumming so hard that you can’t help but chant his name- and he’ll be damned if that isn’t music to his ears! <3

🏡 he still doesn’t feel like he’s fully shown you his appreciation…maybe he needs to fuck the shit out of you too! he’s talking to you so nicely as he stretches your pulsing walls with his huge, veiny cock, reassuring you that you’re “such a good girl,” “lookin’ so gorgeous right now,” “takin’ me like a champ, baby.”… you’ve never felt so full, yet somehow you can’t get enough of him :( he decides to place a silky pillow under your hips so he can pummel into you from a deeper angle, and he leaves all kinds of purply marks along your chest as he tells you just how perfect your pussy is for him- god, he’s happy you moved here!

🏡 by now you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve orgasmed around his length, and he finally coats your insides with his warm, thick spurts of cum as he groans your name. you both collapse onto his sheets, exhaustedly drifting to sleep just to do it all over again in the morning ;) he gets a hot shower ready for the both of you before kindly requesting some of your amazing baking- he even offers you to wear one of his t-shirts so you don’t get any ingredients on your own clothes! of course, you’re more than happy to oblige. after all, he’s such a friendly neighbor <3

#phillip graves imagine #phillip graves x reader #smut #call of duty #call of duty smut #phillip graves #mdni #neighbor au #neighbor!graves has my heart fr

[kamaluhkhan]

all the love we had and lost

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.

warnings: lots of plot + flashbacks. angst with fluff in betweem. slightly suggestive dialogue/situations but nothing more than the actual show, a guy being pushy about hooking up with reader but nothing happens, mention of injuries and blood throughout, hints of alcoholism, brief mention of dieting (reader is competitive swimmer and deals with certain pressures from that), reader gets her period, takes on too much responsibility and argues with her mother (aka eldest daughter syndrome)

tags: @stargirlsirius-recs, @ifilwtmfc, @qwertyb2577, @allnrsnz, @baconeggndcheez, @peanutbelley, @imogen-skye, @geekinthefuschiahair, @tvije,

a/n: thank you thank you thank you for so much love on my first conrad fic!! i'm so excited to share the rest of the series, so stay tuned :))

read part one here

the best friends of our childhoods are the loves of our lives, and they break our hearts in the worse ways. (fredrik backman)

now — summer, age 18

you throw in some extra sprinkles, along with a few more tablespoons of sugar. belly has a huge sweet tooth. it's the night before her birthday, and you're in the kitchen at the fisher's house baking her coconut confetti cupcakes. 

born on june 21st — the summer solstice — belly conklin is the definition of a summer child. she's summer, personified: sunshine, sweet tea, sand, and smiles. having missed so many birthday celebrations, you’re determined to make this year special.

you go to the fridge to grab some eggs, and when you close the door, you're startled by the person standing behind it.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, holding a hand to your chest and setting the carton of eggs on the counter. the joy you felt making birthday cupcakes for belly fades away, replaced with a tingling in your chest. you and conrad hadn’t spoken more than three sentences to each other, or even been in the same room alone, since that morning on the beach. as the distance between the two of you grew, so did your frustration at him. 

conrad raises his eyebrow at you. he reaches around you into the fridge and pulls out a beer. 

"i should be asking you that." 

"the oven at my house is broken and your mom said i could come over."

“i’ve heard that one before,” he mumbles as he leaves the kitchen. you almost can’t believe he brought it up, even if just in a passing, somewhat snarky remark. conrad probably thought you didn’t hear.

these past few weeks, conrad hasn't just been cold towards you — which was a relief as much as it was heart wrenching. he seems more closed off in general, more inclined to spend time with others who hadn't seen him grow up. in fact, you imagine he’s on his way to see nicole now. maybe with her, he can pretend everything is fine. but not with the people in this house, who knew him inside and out.

you would never admit it — if conrad wants to ignore you, you could ignore him just fine — but it was eating you up inside, and it took everything in you not to confront him, to comfort him about whatever he was going through. you’d have arguments when you were kids, but it was nothing a ring pop or tub of cherry jello couldn’t solve. this time is different; the wound is deeper, harder to heal.

you wanted the old conrad back: the sweet boy who cared for you and let you care for him in return. 

then — summer, age 14

belly was turning 12, and you wanted to surprise her with homemade cupcakes for breakfast. only, the oven at your house was broken, which meant your intention of baking her birthday treats would have fallen through, if not for susannah’s ever-present generosity. 

everyone else was out of the house — you even asked laurel and susannah to take belly shopping to not ruin the surprise. you were decorating the cupcakes when conrad walked in from the deck. his wet hair stuck to his forehead and he was wearing a rash guard, so he probably got back from surfing. he looked paler than usual, even after being in the sun for hours, but you didn’t think much of it at first.

“hey,” he greeted, sounding slightly out of breath. “what are you doing here?” 

“the oven at my house is broken, so your mom said i can come over to bake these for belly’s birthday tomorrow.” you gestured at the clumsily decorated treats. the cupcakes had bright pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles. you weren’t a professional by any means, but knew that belly would love them.

“but i’m sure she wouldn’t miss one or two, if you wanna try one,” you offered, smiling at conrad.

he smiled back, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “yeah. yeah, let’s do that. i’m just gonna get changed first.”

conrad walked past you, and that’s when you noticed him limping — along with a bloody gash just below his left knee.

you instantly dropped the spatula back into the half-empty frosting bowl.

“connie, what the hell happened?”

“i’m fine,” he answered. “i wiped out, got cut by the fin of my board.” conrad must have noticed your eyes widened with worry because he grabbed your wrist gently, thumb rubbing soothingly on your pulse point. he was bleeding out on the kitchen floor, and there he was, trying to make sure you were okay. 

“i’m fine,” he reassured. 

the blood dripping down his leg suggested otherwise. years ago conrad would faint at the sight of blood, and though he’d mostly outgrown that, you knew it still made him queasy. you imagined the pain definitely wasn’t making it easier. without another word, you pulled him into the bathroom and made him sit on the edge of the bathtub. you washed your hands then sat cross-legged in front of him.

“you here to fix me up, sweetheart?” he smirked as he watched you gather supplies from the cabinet underneath the sink, your brows furrowed in concentration.

“what?” you paused, almost laughing. until you saw his wound again, and you got back to work.

“it’s from the hunger games,” he explained. “when katniss finds peeta in the arena? and he’s all, like, injured.”

“well, he was definitely in worse shape than you,” you assured. “your cut’s not that deep, it just looks bad.”

“it doesn’t feel great, either.”

conrad exhaled sharply when you started applying pressure to his leg with a damp washcloth. you placed your other hand on his right knee.

“it’ll be fine, connie. i’ve got you. keep your eyes on me, okay?”

he looked down at you, wet hair framing his face as he offered a short nod. 

you gestured at him to take over, and your fingers brushed together when he grabbed the washcloth, but he never looked down. his eyes still followed you as you searched the bathroom for something to cover his wound.

a comfortable silence followed. the two of you used to spend hours talking, sure, but what you loved about spending time with conrad is that silence didn't bother him. you could each be in your own worlds while in the comfort of each other's company, and that was enough.

once the wound was cleaned and the bleeding slowed down, you placed a gauze pad over his cut before wrapping a cloth bandage around it.

“i’m pretty sure it’s ‘you here to finish me off, sweetheart?’,” you remembered.

conrad shook his head. “i’m pretty sure it’s not. i’ve read the book like, three times.”

you move to sit next to him on the edge of the tub.

“how sure are you, connie? because i’m pretty damn sure.”

conrad shrugged. “i’m pretty damn sure, too.” 

you rolled your eyes, but with a smile. “okay, fine. we’ll check. but, when you see how wrong you are, you have to come with me to see jaws 2.” it was playing at the local movie theatre during their weekly throwback thursday — you and belly had seen it advertised on your way home from getting ice cream. you had wanted to ask conrad, but couldn’t find the right time.

because you hadn’t meant it to be a date, but you also hadn’t not meant it to be. something changed about how you felt towards conrad that summer; or, maybe, you just figured out what was different about the love you felt towards him compared to everyone else. 

(yes, love. again, something you would never admit.)

you thought maybe — maybe he felt it too. there was something different in the way he teased you, laughed with you, looked at you when he thought you couldn’t notice.

you did notice. it happened so much that eventually you decided that either it was all in your head and he didn’t love you that way, or he was also scared of what would happen if he did. which, to be fair, was the position you were in. you were very scared of what would happen if you crossed that line.

“i’ll agree to that,” conrad said. “if you agree to having a picnic with me on the beach. if i have to face my fear of sharks, then you have to face your fear of angry seagulls stealing your food.”

a picnic on the beach. you wondered if this was conrad’s way of subtly asking you on a date. did he also want to cross that line, become something other than friends? he looked at you so eagerly, you hoped he did.

“fine.” you held out your hand. “but you have to protect me from angry seagulls.”

conrad smiled at you brightly as he grasped your hand. 

“always.” 

in the end, conrad lost the bet. the screening of jaws 2 was cancelled, so you rented it from the video store instead. you got his favourite movie snacks, and some of yours as well, and made sure the couch had the comfiest pillows and the warmest blanket. you felt butterflies just thinking about the two of you watching together, cuddling on the couch. 

when the time came though, your plans fell through. the playdates your siblings had lined up both cancelled. your mother had plans to meet a friend at the bar, and claimed she couldn't reschedule. by then your parents were divorced and your father was elsewhere with his new girlfriend, so it fell to you to babysit your siblings.

conrad came over anyway: he helped you make rice and lentils for dinner, convinced your brother to eat his vegetables, and let your sister paint his nails. the four of you watched night at the museum and ate all the junk food you had gotten, with you and conrad sitting on opposite ends of the couch, but stealing glances and shy smiles at each other. when your mother came home, a bit after midnight and a little tipsy, she got angry that you’d kept the twins up so late and cheated on the diet she had so carefully planned for you — to keep you in shape for swimming, she claimed. you rolled your eyes, and that made her angrier. without you saying anything, conrad took the twins upstairs to get ready for bed as you and your mother argued. by the time conrad walked back downstairs, your mother had gone into the living room for another drink and you were in tears. he asked if you were okay, and you told him to go home.

you never talked about that night again, and everything went back to the way it was: with neither of you crossing that line.

now

the only reason you let belly drag you to nicole’s party is because it’s her birthday. 

as soon as you enter the house, nicole and the other debutantes whisk belly away to a table filled with elaborate cakes. you can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed by how elegant they look in comparison to the cupcakes you made her. 

"come on," taylor groans. "let's get a drink."

taylor grabs two beers and hands one to you. you gratefully accept. the two of you catch up for a bit, when suddenly jeremiah starts serenading belly in an outrageously funny musical number. you laugh along with them, until you catch a glimpse of conrad with nicole on the couch at the other end of the room. nicole is sitting in conrad's lap, and she leans over to whisper something in his ear before kissing his cheek. your entire body heats up.

conrad was right before: you were jealous. as frustrated as you were with him, you were even angrier at yourself for feeling that way. 

"i’m gonna go find the bathroom!” taylor says, practically shouting over the music. 

"okay!” you yell back. “i’m gonna go get another drink." 

you know all too well that it isn’t a good habit to get into, but you need something stronger if you’re going to survive this party. you examine the drink table, finally picking out some mediocre tequila. you take a shot, then another.

“tequila. my kind of girl.” someone declares, creeping up behind you. 

it’s a terrible pick up line, and you already have a feeling that the guy trying to flirt with you is some rich entitled asshole. 

but, the guy — liam — can hold a decent conversation, and he’s cute enough.

he’s no conrad, though. you take another shot when that thought crosses your mind, and force yourself to flirt with leo. liam. right, liam.

liam leans in close, pretends to listen to you, lets his gaze linger on the deep v-neck of your shirt. you’re so close, you can smell the alcohol on his breath. 

“five minutes,” you boast after he asks how long you can hold your breath underwater. somehow, the conversation veered towards your time as a competitive swimmer. you’re just the right amount of tipsy that your inhibitions start fading away.

“wow,” liam says. “i have to say, i’m glad you didn’t have that training camp this summer.”

you bat your eyelashes at him. “oh? why is that?” you lean closer, trailing a finger down his chest.

“because then i wouldn’t be able to do this.” 

liam kisses you then, and you kiss back. he slides his tongue in your mouth, runs his hands over your body. you feel nothing. it’s fine.

“let's go upstairs.”

liam’s grabbing your wrist before you have a chance to answer. as he tries to tug you up the stairs, your eyes meet conrad’s from across the room.

suddenly, you feel nauseous. you rip away from liam’s grip and place a hand on the wall next to you to steady yourself.

liam turns around sharply. “what is it?”

“i changed my mind, actually. let’s just hang out downstairs.”

liam grabs your wrist again, his grip tighter than before. “don’t be a tease.” 

this time, your voice comes out louder. “i just changed my mind. that doesn’t make me a tease.”

“don’t be a bitch, then,” he scoffs, and you’re this close to breaking this guy’s nose. “do you wanna fuck, or not?”

“i don’t,” you answer instantly, struggling to break free from his grip. 

“okay, whatever. we don’t have to go all the way, but we can still go upstairs, and have a good time.”

he manages to drag you up two steps as you strain against his iron grip, now almost cutting off your circulation. your heartbeat quickens and you feel dizzy. finally, you grab onto the railing for leverage, forcing liam to stop in his tracks.

“what is it now?” he groans.

“just stop, liam.”

“listen,” he starts, speaking to you almost mockingly, like you’re a naive little girl. “i know what girls want, so you don’t have to be shy. we’re going upstairs right now and —”

“liam, is it?” the rest of the party is in full motion, but here’s belly, giving liam one of the most intense death stares you’ve ever seen. belly, who if you cut open, would bleed sugar. “i’m gonna have to ask you to let go of my friend.”

“whatever,” liam answers, rolling his eyes. “if you don’t mind, we’re kinda in the middle of something.” he tries to move you forward, but you stand your ground.

jeremiah is also glaring at liam from the bottom of the stairs, his golden retriever personality long gone. “back off, man,” he warns.

“just mind your own business,” liam snaps.

“they said leave her alone,” steven asserts, walking over once he sees what’s happening. “and you don’t wanna mess with us, trust me.” he clenches his hand into a fist as if proving a point.

in other situations, you and belly have definitely teased steven for his tendency to act all tough, but right now, you couldn’t be more grateful.

“who the fuck are you? her bodyguards?” 

“just let her go,” belly orders. 

“i think she can speak for herself. she wants this, but if you’re jealous, you can join, too.” 

your stomach churns. liam leans in close to whisper in your ear. “maybe we’ll see if those 5 minutes come in handy when you’re sucking my —”

as soon as liam lets go of your wrist, his hand trailing downward, you shove him away and punch him in the nose before he can finish his sentence. you deliver a final blow to liam’s ego as he’s doubled over:

“what i want is for you to leave us the fuck alone. there are other people in this house who i’d rather hook up with. people who aren’t complete assholes with fancy cars to compensate for their tiny dick.”

the flirtatious smile falls from liam’s face, replaced with the kind of anger only rich entitled assholes have when they don’t get what they want — figures that he only gets the hint when it literally hits him right in the nose. he’s angry enough to deliver a punch right back to your face. 

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you fall down the stairs, but belly manages to catch you before you hit the ground. she holds you as jeremiah and steven step in front. you hear them shouting at liam over the music, but their exact words don’t register.

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and the room is suddenly all fuzzy.

“i’ve got her.” conrad’s calm and measured voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist. “go find cam — the rest of us have been drinking, but he can drive her home.”

somehow, you find yourself in a bathroom, sitting on the counter as conrad stands between your legs. he carefully examines your injury, but you notice how he avoids making eye contact. 

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the alcohol, or the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while — probably a dangerous mix of all three. 

“you here to fix me up, sweetheart?” the question slips past your lips before you could stop it.

conrad looks slightly amused, and he finally meets your gaze. “that’s not the line,” he deadpans. you know (from trying not to but ultimately not being able to pull your attention away from him all night) that he’s had a few drinks as well; it seems like the two of you ignore each other best when you’re sober.

but, still, he remembers. his comment earlier and his smile right now is all the confirmation you need: somewhere in the back of his mind, he replays memories of you. no matter how cold he acts towards you, he still cares.

he continues wiping the blood off your face. “how’s your hand?” he asks.

you flex your fingers, inspect your hand. “it’s been better,” you answer, though your knuckles are slightly aching. “worth it.”

“i guess all those years away made you a badass.”

all those years away. the reminder feels like a stab to the heart, but you wouldn’t let it burst the comfortable bubble you and conrad had somehow stumbled into. 

instead, you offer him a lopsided smile.

“oh, connie,” the nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. “i was always a badass.”

“yeah, yeah. but it’s different now. you’re different.” he pauses. you’re worried he’s going to say something else. 

but he doesn’t. instead, he asks, jokingly: “did you join a fight club or something?” 

you take that as a good sign: like you, he’s trying to preserve the playfulness between you before everything else seeps in and ruins it, before you’re brought back to the present, where you’re both heartbroken and not talking to each other. 

“you know the first rule of fight club —”

“don’t talk about fight club,” you finish together. 

conrad laughs, even though it’s not that funny. you laugh, too. 

a silence falls over you, one that’s not unfamiliar, but not entirely comfortable either. conrad holds the cloth against your nose to make sure the bleeding stopped. 

it seemed to be a strange pattern between you two — being there for each other when you bleed.

then — summer, age 12

it was the end of july when you got your first period. 

you had made lunch for your siblings and walked them to their day camp, when you suddenly felt an ache in your abdomen. that ache turned into a sharp pain by the time you got home, and you ran to the bathroom to confirm what you’d suspected. 

that afternoon, mr. conklin was taking all the kids to mini golf, but you weren’t feeling up for it. you texted belly about what happened and spent the rest of the day curled up in bed.

you didn’t hear him knock over the sound of the movie you were watching, but suddenly you saw conrad standing by your door, holding a bag from the candy shop. 

“jesus, connie, you scared me!” you exclaimed, pausing the movie. 

he smiled sheepishly and flopped down on the bed next to you. “belly told me you weren’t feeling well. here.” he handed you the bag. 

you opened the bag, grateful that conrad picked out your favourite treats. you take one and bite into it. your stomach growled — you hadn’t eaten earlier because you felt nauseous, but now you could eat that entire bag in one go.

“how was mini golf?” you asked, popping another treat into your mouth.

“it was awesome! i finally managed to get past that giant hippo and get a hole-in-one. i got the highest score.”

you frown, wishing you had been there. if anything, to beat conrad’s score. 

“don’t worry, we’ll go back another time,” conrad added. “you can beat me then.” sometimes, you swore conrad could read your mind. he then asked if you were feeling better.

“no. i got my period,” you huffed. “it sucks.”

“oh.” conrad adjusted his glasses, a sign that he felt awkward. “i’ve heard about those. they sound pretty brutal.”

“health class?”

“no. my mom, actually.”

health class wasn’t much help for you either, and neither was your mother. you were lucky enough to have susannah and laurel, who had explained everything to you and belly. 

“anyway, what are you watching?”

“the hunger games,” you answer. “i just finished the book.”

“cool.” 

conrad didn’t move — he actually leaned back against the pillows even more — so you figured he wanted to stay. you moved the laptop so it sat between the two of you and started playing the movie again.

“you know, it doesn’t seem fair that you miss out on having fun just because of your period,” conrad said as katniss finds peeta injured in the arena.

you frown, about to point out that he has no idea how painful cramps can be.

he lifted his hand up to stop you. “not that i can judge what you’re going through. i’m just saying when it’s this bad, instead of being alone, just text me, and i’ll be there.”

when the time came, he watched movies with you in bed. he brought you junk food and pain killers. he even biked to the store when you’d run out of pads.

he was there for you, just like he promised.

now

those moments from past summers now feel warm and sickly sweet, like popsicles melting in the sun — then again, that might just be the remnants of tequila flowing through your veins. you think about what happened earlier, how belly, jeremiah, and steven stepped in to protect you. how conrad is here with you now, taking care of you so tenderly even after you’ve ignored each for so long. it’s like nothing changed. but once you leave this bathroom and the alcohol leaves your system, it wouldn’t be the same. you feared you'd never get that magic back, and that weighed on your chest so much, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“why’d you go for liam, anyway?” conrad asks, breaking you away from your thoughts. he removes the cloth from your nose so you can answer, and the bleeding seems to have finally stopped.

“you really wanna know?”

“yeah. liam’s an asshole. and you’re…” conrad places his hands on either side of your thighs, leaning close. “you.”

“i went for liam because….well, honestly, i didn’t care who it was, as long as they made me forget you,” you admit, because what did you have to lose. you probably have a broken nose, you definitely have blood on your shirt, and your time with conrad is running out. 

conrad’s eyes darken. his fingers start to play with the hem of your shorts. 

“did it work?” his voice is a whisper, but he’s so close that it’s crystal clear.

“no.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on conrad’s. it's not the most elegant kiss — it's messy, urgent, with your noses bumping together, and teeth clacking against each other. he cradles your face in his hands, and you wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer. you taste beer on his tongue, and maybe a hint of lime, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. you tangle your hands into his hair, and you swallow his moan as you gently tug. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the alcohol or adrenaline, but dizzy from him.

when you run out of air, feeling like your lungs could burst, you pull away. conrad’s gaze is heavy on yours as he traces your top lip with his thumb.

“connie,” you whimper, itching to kiss him again. 

“you’re still bleeding.”

conrad wipes away your blood with the cuff of his flannel. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s a knock on the door. jeremiah, letting you know that it’s time to go. 

and, just like that, the moment is gone. 

a few days later, belly invites you over for a girl’s night. you paint each other’s nails, eat sour candy, and watch rom coms, just like you used to. she updates you on debutante season, the argument she had with taylor, and her blossoming feelings for jeremiah. you let it slip that you and conrad kissed at nicole’s party, though you admit you aren’t sure what it means — as if you hadn’t spent hours and hours thinking about the kiss, about him. belly gives you a knowing smile, but you change the subject before she can comment any further.

you’re halfway through 10 things i hate about you when belly falls asleep. you grab your phone, deciding to finally reach out to conrad, when you get a text from him.

he’s already on the dock when you arrive, looking out onto the water. 

“hey,” you greet as you stand next to him. “i was actually about to text you —”

“did you tell belly that we kissed?” he interrupts. you can’t quite read his expression as he waits for you to answer.

“no, i didn’t,” you lie. “but…would it matter if i did?”

“well, i mean, belly’s close to nicole and i don’t want her finding out," conrad explains. his words are deliberate, and you suspect he'd spent some time perfecting what to say to you. so far, you didn't like where this was going. conrad delivers another blow:

"it’s not like it meant anything.”

you feel like you could shatter into a million pieces right then and there.

“it didn’t?” you hate how fragile your voice sounds, compared to conrad’s stoic demeanor.

conrad shrugs. “i mean, we were both drunk and the thing with liam happened, so we just got caught up in the heat of the moment.” 

“you’re saying there’s nothing between us, then? nothing other than friendship?”

he turned away before he answered. “no. nothing.”

“then what about last summer?” you demand. you force yourself to keep it together, your tone firmer than before. “i guess that didn’t mean anything, either.”

“y/n…” he pauses, and you know you caught him off guard. “i don’t know what you want me to say. we’re barely even friends anymore. you come back here, after all this time, after so much shit has happened, and expect us all to drop everything to fit you back into our lives. but, you don't. we moved on. i moved on, and i can’t deal with you —" 

“got it,” you snap, already turning to walk away. “loud and fucking clear, conrad.” 

it’s not like it meant anything. we’re barely even friends anymore.

you replay conrad’s words as you crawl into bed next to belly, holding back tears as to not disturb her sleep.

you decide then that you didn’t love conrad anymore. you couldn’t because it would eat you up inside. 

then again, it doesn't seem like hating him would be any easier.

#conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #tsitp #tsitp fanfic #the summer i turned pretty fic #the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher angst #saf writes

[yzashaven]

꒰ ♡— fem!reader︰period sex ✰ nushi eats you out ✰ use of blood as lube ✰ "painting" using ink and blood (sort of) ✰ could be read as vamp!nushi or not :3 ✰ half proofread, half not ꒱

୨୧. i hope this made some sense especially at the end sobs forgive me, i was half awake when i wrote most of this </3

DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT!!

꒰ general﹒taglist ꒱ @yukiitaooo @scara6 @kana-de @ciarchivez

you never really had a problem dealing with period cramps, but today was different. the pain in your abdomen felt like blades were being pierced deeply through you, over and over again in a brutal cycle.

kuronushi's suggestion? sex.

did you agree? absolutely not! imagine the mess and all the blood that could possibly spill everywhere! your flow was too heavy to engage in any kind of sexual activity at the moment.

"a little blood never hurt anybody, darling. come on, i'll make you feel good~" kuronushi cooed from behind you, his arm wrapping around your waist as one of his hands went down to reach under your skirt to feel up your inner thigh. "promise, i'll make all of those cramps and pain go away."

"now be a good girl and strip."

—♡

lewd moans flow past your parted lips as kuronushi's tongue effortlessly dealt with your dripping arousal, licking at the intimate area and stimulating your needy clit like he always does when bringing you to an orgasm—being the least bit bothered at blood that was mixing together with your fluids. "mmh~ delicious as always, my angel." before you could even think of a reply to his words, he went back to situate himself in between your trembling thighs as soon as he caught sight of the blood dripping out of your cunt.

you blush hard at his eagerness to eat you out despite the current state of your body. embarrassed, you attempt to push him away, he groans lowly and resists instead—hooking his hands around your thighs to pull you as close as possible to him. with this, his tongue reaches your deepest parts and was soon accompanied by his thumb that went ahead to rub slow circles on your clit to drive you closer to the brink of ecstasy.

it didn't take long for you to finally cum all over his tongue, to which he happily licks up as well. you glance over to him and see a smirk on his face as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand, "hah, i could never get enough of you." he whispers while undoing his shorts, pulling it down to reveal his hard cock underneath, stroking the length as precum drips from the tip. "see how hard i am for you, angel?" he teases upon seeing the way you were staring at it in complete awe as your arousal only grew further.

"hmm, looks like we don't need any lube at all, huh?" kuronushi chuckles as he rubs his dick along the slit of your wet hole, covering it in your fluids—both arousal and the blood alongside it. his tip teasingly hitting your clit on purpose to have your need for him grow even more. he hums a short melody as he slowly pushes himself inside, inch by inch, filling you up completely, eliciting a gasp from your lips. he starts off with a slow yet sweet pace, taking notice of your sensitivity, but that didn't last long until he couldn't help but go on with a rougher pace that had you moaning louder for him each time he hit your g-spot.

during your period, your cunt was more sensitive than usual, so it didn't take long before you became a babbling, moaning mess beneath him as he pounds you mercilessly. being so into the moment, you hadn't taken notice of him reaching for a nearby paintbrush on his desk, carefully dipping it in ink before returning his focus to you. with a mischievous smirk on his face, he places a hand to your hip to hold you in place as he writes a few words on your skin, just above your pussy.

" my slut "

he grins at the sight, continuing to thrust into you relentlessly before abruptly pulling out only to put two of his fingers inside your hole, collecting your fluids on his fingertips. your eyes widen slightly as you observe his movements—using the mixture of cum and blood to draw a small heart at the end of the words he wrote not too long ago. he throws the paintbrush away somewhere, not caring where it went as he takes in the sight of you being rightfully marked by him. separating your thighs, he pushes his cock back inside you, grinning at the way you clenched around him, moaning at the feeling of being full once again.

"perfect."

#♡.･ signed by yza ✰°｡⋆ #♡.･ dearest kuni ✰°｡⋆ #READ TAGS !! #genshin smut #genshin x reader #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #kuronushi smut #kuronushi x reader #kuronushi x you #kuronushi x y/n

[bizarrelittlemew]

I have a burning curiosity that can only be relieved by an OFMD author. Why is there so much AU fanfiction in this fandom?? 😆 My AO3 search results with every alternate universe tag I can think of blocked are coming up with almost every result on the page filtered out! 🤣 I have nothing against them existing and I'm all for everyone writing what makes them happy, I just wonder how this fandom ended up being so full of them. I used to think SPN was oversaturated with AU's, but it can't hold a candle to OFMD! 😅

okay i wanted to give this a proper answer and also asked a few other authors, so here are some of the reasons we came up with - i think it's a combination of all of these:

while the show takes place in a historical setting, it's not historically accurate or even trying to be. it uses anachronistic dialogue and gives piracy a vibe more like a modern workplace. the characters become timeless in the sense that they are already "modern" characters put into a historical setting, and therefore fit just as well into any kind of AU setting. the characters are what make up the show more than the historical setting

the themes that the show deals with - relationships, sexuality, gender, trauma, family, self-image, mental illness - can be explored in so many different ways given different settings. it's very interesting to examine how the characters would deal with them when thrown into different circumstances and time periods

canon is really good, so while there are gaps in the narrative that can be explored, a lot of people are drawn to putting the characters in entirely different situations and/or feel like canon ground was covered pretty quickly

the story itself translates to other universes very easily. people want to enjoy that story and/or their favorite plot points again and again, but just writing down the plot of the show in the canon setting wouldn't make much sense. by throwing the characters into a different universe, you can pull scenes and plot from canon without just repeating it, putting a different spin on it

very few shows have (canonically) older queer people, and people like the idea of how that translates to other universes

we have (relatively) little canon and had a lot of time between seasons. considering the size of the fandom, amount of canon, and time since canon, the proportion of AUs is not surprising

if we assume proper tagging, AUs make up around 27% of all ofmd fanfics by number of works, but probably much more by word count, since a lot of canon fics tend to be shorter. in comparison, that number is around 20% for SPN and 34% for Merlin 🤷

also i've seen a lot of people starting out by only wanting to read canonverse fics until they gave an AU a try and BAM they were hooked 😌

and last but not least:

Ed and Stede fall in love in every universe 💗

#asks #Anonymous #ofmd #ofmd meta #ofmd fic #thank you yesties and meow for your perspectives <3

[dimepdf]

★  𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝟓𝟎𝟓. + 𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. jealousy is a terrible disease, and you and Eren are both suffering from a severe case of it.

✧. ┊    notes. back on the eren d rider train I need more fics of him BAD like there is a shortage of bad bitches that write for eren on my feed and I need that to be fixed real soon. | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

✧. ┊    word count. 3.2k (23 min read).

✧. ┊    genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | slight eren/mikasa in the beginning | (fr)enemies | established relationship | hurt/comfort | miscommunication | misunderstandings | sexual tension | jealousy | post-break up | make up sex | porn with feelings | grinding | fingering | unprotected sex | cowgirl | riding | hair pulling | we ignore typos here | title inspired by this song.

EREN WAS CONVINCED you were batshit crazy, that would be the only reason why your brain would always find some new reason to push him away enough to have him chase after you like you had a pretty pink leash around his neck hooked to a collar with his name on it. 

You would always manage to push his buttons just enough to tip him off, and in return, you weren’t the type to just sit back and let some man yell at you cause he certainly was not your father nor your mother.

The arguments you two would be involved in usually led to very amazing angry sex, clearing out a grace period enough to last until the next time you chose to push his buttons.

Well, this time it was different—at least that was your claimed reasoning for telling your friends why you and Eren were on another one of your famous relationship breaks. 

This one happened so fast that Eren wasn’t even sure what the hell he was talking about until you stormed out of his apartment and blocked his number for an entire week, holding onto the smallest things that reminded him of your existence. 

Wincing every time he would see your post on your Instagram story all dressed up and going out with your friends looking so unfazed. Maybe this time it actually was different, and the thought of that scared the absolute shit out of Eren. The heavy feeling of the thought of you losing you left with him a constantly collapsing moping pit forming in his stomach.

It was settled between his friends that they wouldn't let him mope around his place alone any longer, tired of hearing and depressed, mentioning your name on his lips, convincing him enough to coax him out of his apartment littered with reminders of you to hang out at some house party.

What those said friends failed to mention was that you would be there as well, with about seventy people scattered from the front yard to the pool in the back with music raging so loud he could feel the vibration from where he sat lounging watching you from his seat on the back porch.

He was supposed to be having a good time, getting messed up enough to not remember your name. Yet there he was, sitting slouched a few feet away from you, his heart on his sleeve. 

A blunt caught between his lips, minding his business as best as he possibly could, but it was just so hard to believe that he could hear the familiar pitch of your laughter filtered through the music.

"Dude," Connie sighs, interrupting Eren’s growing annoyance, his attention yanking away from where you stood, hugging up a little too closely for comfort to the smirking Armin. 

Eren hands the blunt over with a groan, his legs spreading comfortably and shifting back to lean with his back against the patio chair.

With his head resting on the headrest pillow, he closes his eyes tightly, praying for his high to hit him like a truck so fucking soon, wishing for just one night where he wouldn't have to deal with his annoying emotions for you. "Shit, my bad man, I didn't even know that she would be here." 

Connie rests his hand on Eren’s shoulder, helping ground him back down to earth. "But hey, are you gonna be alright?" The question lingered in the stale air before Eren could process the rigid tone behind it, his eyes fluttering open to Connie eyeing down someone from across the yard with a knowing horny spark in his eye, knowing that his friend was a natural-born player and that it would be just so unfair to hold him back from his natural element.

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead, man, I’ll be here." forcing a tight grin from his lips, Eren’s hand waving away his friend with a coaxing hand. "All alone.." he sighed under his breath once Connie had finally stalked away, leaving the dark-haired brunette to sit with his own flooding thoughts.

The sight in front of him making him feel as if he was witnessing a kamikaze from just a few steps away from how hard his heart was throbbing watching you completely ignore his existence as if you weren't just sprouting I love yous and kissing all over each other not even a few weeks ago.

He needs to move to get you out of his sight before the swallowing feeling can take up his entire mood and ruin his high. Stumbling around the large crowd of people, he parted through the crowd, finding the unknown kitchen counter that was decorated with enticingly labeled cheap liquor bottles and mixers that were calling his name. 

He hadn't even managed to get one cup down before the slush of his drink was met with the white of his graphic t-shirt, a curse hidden under his breath turning ready to spit the first insult on his mind he could spout from the large cloud of frustration festering from his annoyance only to be cut off. 

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry, dude." His attacker was a very apologetic and cute woman, with short dark hair, warm olive skin, and a very bold red bra peeking through the white cropped cami she wore, catching his attention embarrassingly quick enough for him to forget that it was better to actually make eye contact when speaking to another person.

His first initial words were punched back into his throat, a lazy smile taking their place instead. "It's already, uh, the drink tasted like shit anyways." He nervously chuckled, like he couldn't really help the nervousness that waved over him standing in the presence of a pretty girl who had introduced herself quite cheerily as Mikasa. 

If you had told him a few hours ago when he first arrived that he would actually be having fun, let alone sitting with some random girl in his lap, Eren would have called you crazy, yet there he was genuinely grinning ear to ear face to face with Mikasa, who had made it her personal mission to make Eren have a much better night than he was. 

The two getting awfully close in such a short span of time, sitting down clinging onto each other, sprouting out about absolutely nothing important but the genuine want to talk to each other, not to mention that It helps that Eren absolutely finds her stunning, their bodies sharing warmth sitting so close, it was only natural for the flushed feeling to take over with the rake of her nails tangling in his shaggy mullet.

He couldn't even use drinking as an excuse, babysitting the same drink she had remade for him as an apology for spilling the last one. There was really no real reason why he had suddenly leaned in and caught his lips against hers so hungrily. 

It doesn't help that Mikasa kisses him back with the same amount of eager roughness, practically straddling him on top of his lap at this point, the two heavily making out in the open.

With hands wandering, Eren reaches out a hold around her hips, his mind betraying him just a bit, not being able to fully push away the comparison to your figure. The thought makes him react with a wince, parting from the kiss with his tongue dragging over his parted lips.

Mikasa leans back, pushing his hair from his face while letting out a breathy fit of giggles, not discovering the hidden uncomfortable shift in Eren’s behavior. It wasn't her fault, he couldn't blame the girl for him being so caught up with his ex to the point where even when he was kissing other women, he couldn't help but get his mind off of you.

"If you want, we could go upstairs." Mikasa whispers in his ear, leading a shiver up his spine with a flash of sexual excitement. He is pleased at the end of her offer, locked in with the peck of her lips against his jawline.

The offer is absolutely knee-jerking, and if it were any other situation, Eren probably would have let this really pretty girl he just met jump his bone, but all the confidence that had been built up from the night had instantly drained the second he had caught your gaze from across the room. 

Both staring at each other pointedly, Eren’s lashes fluttered under your unflinched, hard glare as Mikasa continued to litter kisses with the promises of hickeys around his collarbone.

He wanted to feel so smug, wanted to use the new attention as a way to finally get back at you for making him feel the way that he felt watching you dance with Armin, but the revenge just didn't feel right, and his mood soured further at the thought of using some poor innocent girl to get back at you.

The intense eye contact is cut off by Mikasa bringing her face closer to his, seeking out another kiss. Eren squeezes his eyes closed, wanting nothing more but to get the looping image of you and Armin out of his damned head.

"What do you say?" being reminded in a soft whisper of the intimate question still in the air from earlier, the creep of her fingers dawning down his chest and rubbing with intention at the crotch of his jeans, Eren grabbing her wandering hand before it could do any more active damage.

"Maybe...maybe we shouldn’t right now," Eren sheepishly responds, his eyes searching for any ounce of rejection on her features,trying to shake the sight of you from his attention.

Mikasa doesn't seem all that hurt, if anything, she nods her head in understanding, taking no for an answer without another word, pulling her hands away and wrapping them around his shoulders instead, her head turning enough to show that she knows his attention is entirely too spent on someone else.

"What a player," she chuckles knowingly, not quite catching a glance at you, yet her eyes still scan around the room. "Something tells me I should go get another drink before whoever you're looking for comes and bites off my head." And just like that, Eren's perfect distraction slips through his fingers, and he's left alone once more, kicked back with the same emotions he had coming into the party.

His attention is rudely pulled back towards you as you appear in front of him. It was like you were hunting, searching for the perfect moment when he had his guard down to strike.

You placed your hand on your hips as he dared to stare up at you through his lashes, his body too at ease with the disappointed expression twisted on your face. "Are you fucking drunk right now?"

"Well, is this not a party?" Eren replies almost too easily, his tone has deepened enough to get a shifted, sneering reaction from you at the snappy comeback. Watching your movements a bit too intensely as your arms crossed over your chest, Eren didn't bother to look away from how plump your breasts looked in the pretty little crop top you managed to squeeze them into.

"I was going to ask if you wanted a ride home since I saw Connie dip with someone, but excuse me, I see that you're too busy tongue-fucking any random slut willing to give it out tonight, huh?" Your insults dig deep, even with the drooling sight of your tight-skirted figure dancing right in front of him. Eren sucked in a breath at the acknowledgement.

"You broke up with me." He spoke straight to your thighs, his tongue tracing over the bottom of his lip now that he could see just how good you looked tonight. All dressed up with your makeup done, his heart didn't want to imagine what you were hoping to get into if his presence wasn't there to ruin the mood. "Remember?"

"Fine, walk your ass home." Rolling your eyes and storming away, knowing that he was in the right, Eren let out a sigh before sleazily trailing behind your grumbling every step.

Watching the sway of your hips as you walk in front of him all the way to your car, slumping into the passenger side without any word even as you continued to have a one-sided conversation about how much of an asshole he was for not saying bye to his little girlfriend he was kissing on even though Eren was pretty sure Mikasa would be more understanding than what you were giving her credit for. 

The drive home is tense, the soft pitter of rain hitting the windshield wipers as the streetlights leech orange and white colors through your tinted windows. The radio played lowly, not loud enough to recognize the soft melody of something playing but not quite low enough to have you both sitting in complete silence.

"Are you guys talking?" Eren’s voice is still deep, almost cushioning from how gently he posed the question, almost as if he were so loud that he would be afraid to scare you away.

Your fingers clench around the leather of the wheel, eyes glancing away from the road for just a split second to give him a knitted-brow look. "What, who are you talking about?"

Eren feels like he’s back in middle school again, fidgeting with the bottom hem of his shirt, all nervous around you. "You and Armin, you guys looked pretty close at the party." He could almost taste the bitterness on his tongue, his head leaning back on the headrest, looking how desperate he had to look, practically pining over you with his broken-hearted expression.

"I should ask the same for you then." You ignore him, reaching to dial the music just a bit louder, not wanting to sit in silence if it meant opening up a question and answer panel between just him and you. 

The statement hurts, both physically and emotionally. Eren gets reminded of the pit still forming in his stomach.

The frowning emotion threatening a knot in his throat, having to swallow down the absolute word vomit of apologizes and begging he has threatened to spill from his throat in your honor, "Well, I’ve missed you." Was all that he could manage before he had to physically turn himself away from you, using the pressing cold glass to help aid the burning firepit of emotions he had covering the rest of his reasonability in dark, thick sud.

You didn't react, at least not in line of sight, even if you heard him, you hadn’t shown any acknowledgement of his heartbreaking confession. Not even when you pulled into his driveway had you bothered to give him a glance other than the action of you sliding off your seatbelt and letting him sit in the car for a breath before he was trialing after you once more.

Trudging through his apartment, even with you inside the home walls, you still felt a sense of lonesomeness. "Ren…" 

"Do you wanna come to bed?" Your voice sounds through the halls, following back to his bedroom, the door left ajar enough to see you lying in the place right where he had thought you belonged, blankets lifted open, enticing him to lie down next to you with a sobering small smile.

Crawling under the blankets right next to you without another word, cuddling against your chest, wrapping his arms around the front of your torso, and hugging close enough for you to lean with your back resting against the mattress as his face rubbed against the plush of your falling and rising cushioning breast.

"I’ve…missed you too." You lowly admit, using your acrylics to softly comb through the back of his hair, easing back his tension farther with a small kiss pecked on the top of his forehead.

The sound of the blanket shifting as it carries with Eren’s movements, his arms ankling at both sides of your head, holding himself up from pressing you with his entire body weight as he slots himself between your part legs.

Your fingers twining tighter into his scalp as he leans down for a kiss, the muffle of his moan pressing against your seeking lips, letting you slip your tongue inside of his mouth, adding to the rising heated makeout session.

The pace never lets up, growing with more eagerness. Eren frees one of his arms, letting his hands wander down, squeezing your thigh part by the bend of the knee, and having your skirt ride up unwearable to your waist.

Knuckling aside the lace of your panties away from your pussy, he used the pad of his thumb to tease at your clit only adding sinking two digits into the equation. Your cunt welcomed them with a greedy buck at the buck of your hips against his touch, kicking off his jeans awkwardly.

Eren is already sweating from the grouling press of his hard cock miserably untouched against your thigh, grinding shamelessly against your leg while his fingers pistoned with a lewd wet squelch from your coated arousal inside of you.

Pausing only when your fist tugs with a knot full of his hair tangled between your knuckles, your other hands push him away by the press of your palm against his chest.

Switching positions with Eren almost a little too obentaintly with you sitting straddled on his lap in an all too familiar position, you look angelic on top of him with your hair dawning over your face knocking out of his daze with a hiss at the slow teasing feeling of your fingers wrapping around the length of his cock and pressing his tip at the folds of your entrance. 

"I’ve missed you." The soft brush of your coo fans against his face from how close you were, and with your noses brushing, you both react breathlessly to the feeling of you lowering yourself down on his cock. The thrusting clench of his hips living up from the mattress and intruding deeper inside of you left him whimpering under your touch. "I’ve missed you so, so much, Ren."

The pace of your bouncing hips is relentless, starting at your own brutal pace and grounding yourself with heavy palms pressed against his chest.

Eren couldn't do anything but lie back and whine against your mouth, as you used him for your own release from the mental war he had to not end the fun for which he had been craving all week. Whimpering at the amazing feeling he missed so badly at your pussy squeezing against him so snuggly as if your body had just been made for him so perfectly. 

Eren’s hands help guide the grind of your hips as your muscles tense and tremble on top of him suddenly, your body going rigid, hugging your collapsed body against his hold, begging a string of nonsense as your cunt continues to milk him until his very last drop.

His hips don't bother halting, switch positions as he lays on top to help with his lazy, slow strokes, listening to your soft whines as you hug him closer to you, wrapping your trembling legs against his hips and pulling him as deep as you possibly could.

“I missed you too baby.”

🔖 @m0mmym1lk3r-png / @kawatabae / @haitaniwhor3 / @pluzo / @hey-gurls69 / @momoewn / @sheluvzeren / @kogoshidied / @zombieghoulfriend / @hoohoohope / @jadeisthirsting / @zuuki / @watyousayin / @rumi-rants / @justanotherkpopstanlol / @awkwardaardvarkforever / @chloee0x0 / @lexiinanime / @melty-kisses / @kageyama-i-want-tobiors / @namidaass / @princesstiti14 / @unholybabyface / @wenumsmol / @kiyomeichann / @ziggy-09 / @anotherlovelyruin / @s-witch-bitch / @laylasbunbunny / @celi-xxmoon / @toji-dabi-wife / @dilfs-lover / @dunixxd / @songbirdgardensworl / @emery-333 / @mimixrx2 / @souljagrldotcom / @carcarmeowmeow19 / @p-rizz-ha / @lilvampirina / @atsumubabe / @lialia3945 / @yazmunson / @professional-2d-guy-simp / @niyizh / @maki-z / @marzipaanz /

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#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ] #eren yeager #eren jeager #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren jeager x reader #aot smut

[melanieph321]

Since you’re open to writing for szoboszlai could you maybe right an angsty one where you’re fwb and find out you’re pregnant and when you tell him he freaks out at first and leaves for some alone time to think but eventually comes around

Lovely request! 😊

Dominik Szoboszlai x Reader - Positive

Enjoy!

"Pregnant?" Dominik frowned. "How can you be pregnant?"

You rolled your yes. "I don't know Dom, maybe we had somthing called sex?"

Dominik did not find your sarcasm amusing. He was neither amused that you showed up at his doorstep just as he was about to leave for training.

"How could this be possible?" He sighed, his body slumping down against the doorframe. It was a bit rude of him not to invite you in to his apartment.

"We didn't use protection the last time we...you know," You said awkwardly. "And I missed my period a few days ago. I went to get tested, and the results came back positive."

Dominik was silent for a moment, processing the information. You were having a baby together? It seemed like a distant possibility, but there was no denying the truth. But as reality set in, Dominik's expression turned from shock to panic. Perhaps he wasn't ready to be a father! Like you he was only twenty-three years old, a flourishing career ahead of him. Would he let a sloppy one night stand ruin that? Most people would argue that he had alot more to lose than you, a social media manager for the ever so addictive Red Bull energy drink.

"Y/N." Dominik shut the door behind him, adjusting the gym bag that hung over his shoulder. "I need some time to think. This is all too much for me right now."

You felt a lump form in your throat as you watched Dominik struggling to process the news. You knew this was a lot to take in, but you had hoped that he would be more supportive considering that you were both in the same boat. And It wasn't like you were complete strangers. You and Dominik had history, stretching back to when you were both based in Germany, Dominik playing for RB Leipzig and you doing jobs for their social media.

"I'll call you later okay?" He looked scared and overwhelmed, a desire to jump ship and flee.

"Okay," you said softly, trying to keep your emotions in check. "Take all the time you need." You nodded. But even as you spoke those words, you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. Had you made a mistake by telling Dominik? Should you have given him more space? Were you truly ready to be a single mother? So many questions raced through your mind, leaving you feeling lost and uncertain about the future.

"I can't believe him." Your friend Sasha said.

It's where you were staying for the six months that Red Bull wanted you to do jobs for them in England. This whole situation was really her fault. If Sasha hadn't suggested that the two of you attend a sponsors event that her company was hosting, you would have never run into Dominik again and the two of you would never have hooked up. And it wasn't once that the two of you had spent night and day together. In fact, your relationship had gotten way past late night bootycalls. Perhaps that's why you were so suprised how off put he had been at the thought of knocking you up. Despite the life growing inside of you, life had to go on. You still had a job to do.

"Y/N, there is a call for you."

After spending and antire week in bed Sahsa woke you up one morning with your cellphone in her hand.

"Is it Dominik?"

"No. I think it's your boss."

"Oh."

How foolish of you to think that Dominik would ever call. The only word you had heard from him since you told him of your unexpected pregnancy was a text, saying:

"Need more time. Talk to you later."

"What did he want?" Sasha said, seeing you finally getting up and out of bed.

"There is a job in London that they want me to do."

You tied your hair in a gentle ponytail, marching towards the bathroom.

"What's in London?"  Sasha asked.

"I dunno, some charity event at a youth center that Red Bull is funding."

"Oh...can I come?"

"Do you like kids?"

She snorted. "No."

You smiled. "Then perhaps you should sit this one out."

As you arrived at the youth center, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. Red Bull frequently arranged a "Meet your Hero Day." Where the children of the youth center would be suprised by athletes artists and other inspirational personalities.

"Who is it, who's coming?" You asked one of the youth counselor, since you had no idea yourself.

"It will be the best Hero Day yet." The counselor said. He seemed equally as giddy and excited as the children. "Red Bull went all out this year. They got two Liverpool players coming."

"Which ones?" You asked, but in terror.

"Trent Alexander- Arnold and Dominik Szoboszlai."

"No." You groaned.

"Yes." The counselor grinned. He was obviously a big fan.

The children were already gathered in the hall, eagerly waiting for the arrival of their special guests. You did you job, setting up your camera and snapping away photos, capturing the energy and enthusiasm of the young ones. Soon Dominik and his teammate arrived, dressed in their signature football jerseys and a big smile on their faces. The children went wild, screaming and cheering as they walked into the room. You couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as you watched Dominik interact with the kids - he was so natural and effortless around them, while you felt like a bit of an outsider. As the day progressed however, your presence became known.

"Y/N, w...what are you doing here?" Dominik asked as you had walked up to him with your camera.

"My job." You said.

"I didn't know..."

"It was last minute." You shrugged, snapping another picture of Dominik and a kid that refused to let go of his leg.

"I've been meaning to call." He said.

"Sure you have."

You moved on to snap more photos of Dominik's teammate, who was very photogenic.

"Can you maybe do something with the ball, a trick?" You directed.

"Like this?"

Trent gave the ball a tap, sending it up into the air and catching it with his knee then foot as it came back down. He did so with ease, the children gawking impressed.

"Thanks. I think I got it." You smiled.

Scrolling through your camera you noted how many good images there were. The children all looked so happy. You found yourself getting more and more comfortable with the children. You played games with them, listened to their stories, and even joined in on some of their dance moves. It was then that you realized something - you wanted a child of your own. You glanced over at Dominik, who was currently juggling a ball with one of the kids. He wasn't sure if he was ready for fatherhood, and maybe that was his right. But what you did with your body, that was your right. But as you continued to watch Dominik interact with the children, you saw the way he lit up their faces with his presence, and the way they looked up to him with such admiration. Deep down you knew that he would be an amazing father, which made the decision you wanted to make even more difficult.

"I'm giving the child up for adoption"

As the day came to a close, you took Dominik aside and told him what you wanted. His eyes widened in surprise. "What? Why would you do that?"

You tooka deep breath, calming yourself down. "I know I might be a bit old school but abortion isn't an option for me."

Dominik searched your face then nodded agreeingly. "Me neither."

"And I...what?" You frowned.

"I don't want you to have an abortion. " He said.

You were lost for words and for a split second you contemplated punching him in the face. "Dominik." You sighed. "You've given me the cold shoulders for days, making me question ever fucking choice I've ever made in this life. You made me feel so shitty about myself these past few days and now all of the sudden you want me to have your baby?"

"I know and I'm sorry." He said. "But Y/N you must understand, growing up my parents had nothing. They struggled to take care of me and at the same time did everything for me to succeed in life. I made a promise to them and myself that my children would never have to go through what me and my family did. That when I grew up I'd be able to give them everything that they need. I really want to be with you Y/N, but I promise you I'll struggle trying to be a dad now.

"Well I'll struggle even more being a single mother, don't you think?"

You could see it in his eyes, the genius angst. But you were in this together, why was it so difficult for him to understand that?

He shook his head. "I won't leave you. I'll be there for the both of you. Everything you need, money, a house..."

"Dominik." You sighed. "I don't want your money. I want you. I need you."

His expression withered, looking a bit defeated. "But I'm not good enough..."

"You're good enough to me." You placed a hand on your flat stomach. "You're good enough for us."

Somthing changed in his expression, a newfound light. "I am?"

You nodded, tears streaming down your face. "Yes, you're everything we need, just the way you are."

He stepped forward his arms collecting you in his embrace. You sighed in relief.

"I'm gonna be a dad." He pulled you back, now a smile on his face.

"Yes, yes you are and I'm gonna be a mom."

You gasped as Dominik bent down, kissing your lips. Forgetting your surroundings, a group of children spotted you and giggled unremosrfully. Dominik turned to look at them than back at you. He returned your smile, knowing that this is what you wanted. You were both positive.

#fanfiction #football imagine #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #football angst #dominik szoboszlai #dominik szoboszlai x reader #trent alexander arnold #liverpool fc

[sirfrogsworth]

Last week was crazy.

I honestly can't believe all of it happened in the span of a week. Well, I guess it was more like 10 days. But it was another... Alot.

It all started when I got my disability denial letter. I couldn't wait until I got into the house so I opened the envelope as I walked back from the mailbox. Once I saw the bad part I had an instant panic attack in my driveway.

I ran inside...

Okay, that isn't true.

I walked very quickly inside...

Nope, still not true.

Okay, I walked at my personal top speed which is probably still slow for most people... but the point I'm trying to make is that I was attempting to hurry despite only saving myself about 3 seconds of travel time.

But the hurrying made me feel better, okay?

Out of breath from my geriatric-style powerwalking, I called my lawyer's office immediately. And... he is on vacation. Won't be back until the next Thursday. I spent the entire weekend going through every panic state a body can feel. I go from angry to depressed to anxious to panicked to angry (again) to scared to more scared to extra more scared. Visions of homelessness danced in my head.

I can't sleep for over a day because my brain won't shut off. Finally my body gives out and I fall asleep on the couch watching random YouTube videos. But falling asleep on the couch is bad because I'm not hooked up to my CPAP machine. Then I finally do hook up my CPAP and my damned mask breaks. Thankfully it has happened before and I have a cool hot glue and duct tape solution. But it is hard to manage hot glue and tape when you haven't slept in days and your eyes will barely stay open. So a few burned fingers later, I am sleeping comfortably in my janky duct tape-laden CPAP mask.

Monday rolls around and I decide to go into problem solving mode. Problem solving is my superpower, so I was going to lean into that in an effort to reduce my anxiety. The denial letter said they had no records from before I was 22, so I put on my detective hat and began the hunt to prove I was sick before 2004. My aunt helped me dig through my mom's document drawer. I distinctly remember an essay I wrote to the disability people back when I first got sick. It was part of the paperwork they had me submit. It was a first hand account of my symptoms back in 2001. It also had an essay from my dad talking about how sick I was. I felt like if I could find that, the records surrounding it would all be related and from the same time period.

We go through the entire drawer and only find a few things that might be helpful. Then I realized my mom had a *second* drawer full of documents and my aunt was blocking it. So we start going through that and find a folder labeled "Ben's Disability Stuff." I would have never kept any of that stuff but my mom kept *everything* and it was all in chronological order.

She is still looking out for me.

And she may have kept me from being homeless.

We find the essay and records of my ECT treatments and the names of doctors and all kinds of evidence of my medical woes before 2004. And even if they won't accept it as direct evidence, I can use these documents to show doctors I was their patient. And my primary care doctor said he would be willing to talk to those past doctors to help me convince them to write a letter on my behalf. All they really have to say is they treated me for severe depression and fatigue. And because my mom kept a list of my prescriptions and my ECT treatments, I'm hoping that will be enough to convince them even if they don't remember treating me.

Wednesday I had my monthly checkup. And I got to peek at my main doctor's records from before 2004. It's all handwritten notes and a little hard to read (bad doctor handwriting is the most accurate stereotype in existence). But it clearly says I had depression and was undergoing ECT treatments. It even mentions one of the doctors I want to write me a letter. It's not a lot, but it is first hand, direct medical evidence from that time period. I think it will be very compelling to whoever reviews my case.

I also talked to the nurses/assistants in the office about copying my entire chart, and I thought we were on the same page, but as you will see later... we were not on the same page.

I exit the building and remember how far away I had parked. And once again I forgot to use my cane—even though I keep a spare in the car. The main lot was full and the disabled parking was occupied, so I had to park in the secondary lot. My legs were holding up so far, but it was already a lot of walking for me. Very slow walking.

His office is in the same complex as the hospital. Which is my next stop. It's the same hospital that I have been going to all of my life. And the hospital where both of my parents died.

But I need vintage medical records and that is where they keep them.

Or so I thought.

I drive from the medical office parking lot to the hospital parking lot and only the spots farthest away are empty. And because of goddamn global warming, it is 90 fucking degrees in late September. I park, lock my car, grab my man purse, and start hoofing it to the hospital entrance. I'm so nervous about getting these records that I forgot my damn cane again.

My thoughts are basically, "What if they only keep 7 years of records like everyone else? What if the records from Christian Northwest aren't kept with the records from Christian Northeast? (Christian NW doesn't exist anymore.) What if they won't send them to my lawyer? What if it costs a thousand bucks? What if, what if, what if..."

I get to the front desk and ask the lady where the records department is. She gives me directions that my brain is only capable of half paying attention to. Then I realized I left the records release form from my lawyer in the car. So I walk another half mile in the heat to my car without my cane. And initially, my thought was, "Well, at least I can grab my cane once I get the form." But by the time I got to my car my thought was, "AHHHHHHHHH THAT WAS A LONG FUCKING WALK. KILL ME!"

And so I forgot my cane.

Again.

I get back to the lobby and wave at the lady who gave me directions. I pretend like I remembered and confidently walk in the direction I recall her pointing to. I found the elevator. Thankfully this particular elevator only goes two places. Which seems like a waste of an elevator, but... whatever. I get off on the second floor and am met with a big sign with all the departments and little arrows next to them.

(I'm sure you knew what I was talking about but I'm trying to break up this wall of text with images because I am a professional blogger person.)

I see "Medical Records" and a leftward arrow. I used my keen detective skills to surmise I should probably veer left.

I find myself at the beginning of the world's longest hallway.

Without my cane.

And it is flooded with sterile florescent light and the walls are adorned with the world's most inoffensive art.

Here is a painting of a plant. Here is a painting of a bird. Here is a painting of a bird sitting on a plant. Wait, is that a... WATERFALL??

Suddenly Indiana Jones' voice shouts in my thoughts...

So, if you had to guess, do you think the records department was...

A.) near the beginning of the hallway? B.) in the middle of the hallway? C.) beyond the world's longest hallway in the world's second longest hallway?

As I enter the world's second longest hallway, I notice the art is repeating itself. I've seen that bird sitting on a plant before. I worried I was going in circles, but it turns out they probably just bought the inoffensive art in bulk and weren't concerned about repeats. I get about halfway down the second longest hallway and see a big sign sticking out... "MEDICAL RECORDS."

Note to God: The real world needs a fast travel mode.

I was a big sweaty mess and my legs were like jello. I lumber through the door and find a young woman scrolling through her phone and probably wishing she was anywhere else. She was behind a huge partition with a plexiglass divider—probably still there from COVID days.

I mean, it's still COVID days. But no one is acting like it so I am just pretending it is all over like everyone else seems to.

She notices an out-of-breath Hagrid towering over her and apathetically inquires, "Can I help you?"

I hold up a finger as I try to gain my composure and figure out exactly what I want to say. I usually rehearse this kind of thing beforehand but with all of the anxious thoughts spiraling through my brain, I totally forgot to do that.

"I need to ask questions about records." "What kind of questions?" "Well, how long are the records?" "I'm sorry?" "What year do they start?" "What year do you need?"

I'm suddenly realizing why I rehearse these things. So I take a moment and breathe deeply. I form the proper question in my mind.

"How far back do you keep medical records?" "30 years."

I shoot my hands up like I just scored a touchdown and say, "OH THANK GOD."

She is very confused.

"30 years, oh my god. 30 years just saved my life."

She is still very confused.

"And do you have records from Christian Northwest?" "Yes, we have everything from all Christian hospitals."

I try to give her a brief explanation of my situation and she cuts me off. "Fill out this form."

I look at the clipboard and it is a release form.

Do you remember way back when I walked an extra mile to and from the car to get a release form that my lawyer prepared? Well, turns out they have their own version of that and I walked all that way for nothing.

I finish the form and hand it to the bored, indifferent front desk lady. She tells me someone will be out in a moment. So I sit in the uncomfortable waiting chairs and try to rest a bit. A much tinier young woman walks to the front desk partition thingie and calls out my name. But due to her diminutive stature, she is completely obscured by a pillar and I have no idea where the voice is coming from. We do this little awkward dance on either side of the pillar, attempting to see each other, and finally we both end up on the same side. She starts looking over my form and seemed a little annoyed that I left a section blank. I wasn't sure what kind of records I needed and there was no box that said "everything everywhere all at once."

What I really wanted was any document with my name on it from the beginning of time.

But I was worried about asking for too much labor from this person so I started negotiating for some reason.

I was like, "Well, like, I really need like anything you have from before like 2004. And then maybe, like, some general records after 2004. Like, the pre-2004 records are super important. But, like, I also need to show I was sick all my adult life. So if there are like, summary records? Or, like, something?"

I couldn't stop saying like. I was turning into a Kardashian. Again, some rehearsal was probably warranted.

"I just don't want to be a burden and make you dig up all of my records. I mostly need my ECT records from 2001."

"What is ECT?"

"Shock therapy. It's for depression. I just need to show I was really sick before the age of 22."

"And who is this guy on the form?"

*ramble mode engaged*

"Oh, that is my disability attorney. You see, I'm trying to get a special kind of disability, but I need to prove I was sick before the age of 22. So anything like that before 2004 would be very helpful. But like, if you have less detailed records after 2004 that is good too. Because I may need to prove I've been sick my entire adult life."

*continued rambling until I notice she stopped paying attention*

She did not need to know all of this. And I was not answering the questions she needed answered. I was nervous and babbling and oversharing and I couldn't snap out of it. And I was really concerned if I asked for too much, she was going to be upset. But then she told me all of the records were in a warehouse and she would not actually be finding them for me. She just places an "order" for them. So this weird negotiation thing I was doing to keep her from being annoyed at me was pointless.

And I also realized... this is super important.

I yell at myself, "Ask for everything, stupid! Quit trying to get halfassed records because you're worried about inconveniencing someone."

Finally I just say, "I want every medical record you have from before I was 22 until now."

And she was like, "Sure."

Well... that was easy.

I thanked the tiny lady and the bored lady and exited back into the second longest hallway. My adrenaline was surging. I kept yelling, "30 YEARS!!" in my brain. I had to tell someone this amazing news. I had to tell them right that second or I might burst. So I grab my phone from my man purse and dial Katrina.

The thing is, I only call Katrina when something really bad happens. People don't make phone calls anymore. People text! So when she picked up the phone she answered with a very worried tone. As if somehow a third parent of mine died or something.

"THIRTY YEARS!!!!" "WHAT IS HAPPENING??" "They keep records for 30 years!" "OHHHHHHHHHH!!! That's amazing!"

She probably didn't hop for joy in real life, but in my mind I like to pretend she did. I start explaining everything that just happened and how they most likely have my ECT records and then I realize I am in the middle of the world's second longest hallway and I don't remember which direction leads back to the world's longest hallway. And because I am having unusual and extraordinarily good luck, a medical worker was walking by right at that moment.

"Which way back to the elevator?" "This way!" "Oh great! Thank you!" "Or that way. There are two elevators."

There is that normal luck I recognize.

I can feel the universe realigning itself. But that is okay, because...

THIRTY YEARS, BABY!

I talk to Katrina as I traverse the two longest hallways. Thankfully I was going in the correct direction and found the proper elevator. After a nice chat about various things including problematic 80s movies, we hung up and I decided to treat myself to a hospital cafeteria chicken quesadilla. They are surprisingly delicious and I ate them every single day while my dad was in hospice. Those quesadillas were a single bright spot during one of the hardest times of my life.

So I walk up to the grillmaster and look at the menu.

"Wait, where is the quesadilla?" "We stopped making those two weeks ago."

Universal realignment completed. Luck has returned to its original state.

A male nurse in front of me commiserated. "Yeah, man. I miss them too."

I walked back out to my car both happy and depressed. An odd combination of conflicted feelings. But my day was not over yet. I needed vaccines and groceries. Naturally, I went to the grocery store with the CVS. I got my dad his last booster there, so I was confident they could take care of me. I grab a shopping cart and pick up a few things on the way to the pharmacy. I get in line at the little vaccine check-in spot. The woman in front of me is getting her booster as well. Otherwise, the pharmacy is empty and the three employees are just scrolling through their phones.

After the previous booster seeker was taken care of, I tell the woman I need a booster and a flu vaccine.

"I can give the flu shot now and set an appointment for the booster." "You never required an appointment before." "We just started a few weeks ago." "Can I make an appointment for, like, now?" "No, sorry." "Do you have the booster in stock?" "Yes." "Do you have someone here qualified to give the booster?" "Yes." "Do you have any other appointments right now?" "No."

I tried very hard to keep my composure and remain polite.

"I am disabled. It is very hard for me to get out of the house. Returning another day would be very difficult. Can you please make an exception?"

"I can get you in tomorrow."

I probably should have asked for a manager at this point. But I had no energy for confrontation. She started preparing for me to get the flu shot, but I told her I was going somewhere else. My happy news was quickly being soured by weird rules that made no sense.

But I did see a cool robot.

I got my groceries and loaded them into my car. Some were frozen items so I made sure to turn the A/C on full blast. I called another pharmacy. It was the one run by the Jamaican family who came out to the house to give my parents boosters during the height of COVID. I asked if they could do walk-in vaccinations without an appointment. And in that beautiful accent, they replied, "Sure, come on by. We'll take care of you."

Their shop is in Ferguson. Which I'm sure the news has convinced people is a constant warzone or something. But the main street, West Florrisant, is actually really neat in spots. A lot of small businesses catering to the Black community. There was a soul food place and an African hair braiding place and a Taco Bell. Okay, it wasn't all Black-themed shops, but the pharmacy was directly next to the "Wumzy African Attire" tailoring shop that was combined with the party planning store.

And in the back was an African beauty supply depot.

Three shops in one! Just a very efficient use of space.

And looking through the window of the tailoring shop was like a feast of colors for the eyes. I don't know how they get fabric so bright and colorful. Really beautiful patterns too. I tried not to look like a creep while staring inside so I just walked reeeeeally slow toward the pharmacy entrance.

I just wish people knew that side of Ferguson. It's a beautiful community that was really dragged through the mud by the national media.

I digress.

I walked into the pharmacy and it was long and skinny. They had a few shelves with over-the-counter health products. But the main area was pretty empty. I guess they want to make sure they can accommodate long lines without people having to wait outside. But their working area seemed really cramped. There were some awards on the wall and news articles. Apparently, they are very involved with vaccinating the local refugee community. Something you won't see at pointless appointment-having CVS. I just felt like I was in the right place even if my frozen items were thawing and my legs were buckling from constantly forgetting my cane in the car.

The shop was run by the pharmacist and matriarch. Her son took my information. He looked about 18 and was a bit shy—but very kind and helpful. He directed me to this little partition they set up for vaccinations and they had a liquor bottle full of hand sanitizer. The label had a big "DO NOT DRINK" warning. I found a picture of the exact one on Google.

I washed my hands and rolled up my sleeve. The pharmacist greeted me with my shots prepared. Some people have a sort of magic touch when it comes to giving shots. I'm not sure if it is a special technique or just lots of experience, but aside from a little pressure, I didn't even feel the needles going in. And my arm was only mildly sore despite the double shots.

I really wanted to thank her for sending someone to vaccinate my parents when no one else would. But I was really tired and chickened out. So I just thanked her and drove home.

I unloaded my groceries and collapsed on the couch. I could barely move at that point. Everything hurt.

But... 30 years.

I was feeling good the next day despite everything. My body hurt, but my brain was contented from my success. But there was more to do and everything was trending downhill. I called those doctors mentioned in my personal medical records. I knew it was a long shot, but I asked if they kept records from 2001. They did not. However, I thought the psychiatrist who did my ECT was dead. And it turns out he is just old-as-heck and still practicing. So even though he doesn't have records and probably doesn't remember me, I am hopeful he will write me a letter.

My other psychiatrist from back then is also still practicing. No records there either.

So far my phone anxiety wasn't getting the better of me. But I still had more calls to make and I could feel my brain starting to get melty.

My pocket knife doesn't open correctly and I couldn't get anyone to email me back from SpyderCo. So I called their office in Colorado and tried to get someone to talk to me. I got bounced to three different people and finally a guy told me that model is just hard to open. So that was pointless.

Melt. Melt. Melt.

And finally, I had to call the dreaded CPAP supply place.

It did not go well. At all.

You can read more about it at that link, but the short version is I got angrily sighed at for asking reasonable questions about what the hell "chart notes" are. And the lady refused to answer those questions for no reason I can fathom. She eventually brought me to tears and got angry at me for doing so. And it turned out the call was pointless as well.

Oh, and my lawyer was sick. Remember him? Vacation guy? Who skipped town at the exact moment I got my disability denial letter? Yeah, I had been waiting for 7 grueling, anxiety-filled days to speak with him and he gets sick the day he returns.

Brain is melty goo.

Hey, Universe! I think you are overcorrecting with that luck realignment. I appreciate the 30 years of records thing, but can you let me enjoy it a little?

Friday arrives and I still have calls to make. The CPAP lady really messed up my brain and so just dialing the numbers was freaking me out. But I decided to start with the worst first. I called the CPAP lady and she finally had her precious "chart notes" and put my order through. She was cheerful and helpful and I was confused but thankful.

I thought maybe things were looking up in my phone call adventures.

My next call was to my primary care doctor's office.

One thing you need to know about my doctor is he is a bit of a... hot mess. A very smart, capable doctor. He knows his stuff. I suspect he has an eidetic memory due to his instant recall of medication names and doses and things that happened 8 years ago and detailed descriptions of medical conditions he only heard about in school 40 years ago. Aside from that, he is kind and compassionate and he has my back no matter what.

But he is technologically stuck in the 80s. His personal life is a roller coaster of drama. He once hired his girlfriend of 2 months to work at the office and his regular staff secretly whispered "She's so awful" behind his back. (They broke up soon after.) He is disorganized and constantly running late. And he takes on tons of frustrating patients because they have nowhere else to go. I admire him for treating so many poor elderly folks without any family to take care of them, but you can tell it is extremely challenging at times and a lot of that labor is delegated to his staff.

His office manager is probably the only person on the planet who can tolerate him being a hot mess.

Unfortunately, she is also a hot mess in completely different ways.

She tries to speedrun through everything. It's probably because she has a million things to do and is trying to fit 12 hours of work into an 8 hour workday. I try to be sympathetic and understanding of that. But one of her methods for speeding things along is attempting to use her psychic powers. You will start telling her what you need and she will do this thing where she cuts you off and tries to predict said need.

"I need a prescription for..." "Your thyroid meds are due, right? I'll send it over to the pharmacy." "...insulin. But I have a question about..." "So thyroid and insulin? No problem. I'll send it over." "...increasing my dosage." "Wait, what's yer question, hon?" "Was it 50 units..." "No, it's says 100. Okay? I'll send it over. Take care." "...twice per day or 100 units once in the morning?"

Often her predictions are so bad that it actually takes a lot more time to correct her than it would if she had just let you finish speaking. And this is especially problematic for me because I rehearse everything I need to say and she constantly interrupts and so I have to end up improvising new things to say that I never accounted for. And I'm already anxious and not thinking clearly so I do a poor job of explaining my needs and it just ends up in disaster.

So I have a complicated situation. I need my entire written chart copied and sent to my lawyer. I know it is a lot of work for the office staff. They probably have to copy several hundred pages. But this is probably the most important evidence in my disability case. And my lawyer has already volunteered to pay the several hundred dollars it will cost. It's worth it because if my case goes well, I could get years of back pay.

I call and get the young woman whom I really like on his staff. She is very quiet and unassuming but secretly the star of the office. Like a ninja of competence. If you really need something done properly without mistakes, she is the best one to go to. But her job does not include handling the records, so she transfers me to the office nurse. The office nurse does not process new information well. You often have to explain things several times. And if she gives up trying to understand, she hands you off to the office manager.

The Final Boss, if you will. I was really hoping I could avoid that.

"Okay, so my lawyer needs all of my written records..."

"He needs to fax a form saying what he needs, okay honey?"

"He already faxed a release form asking for records and I brought in a new copy yesterday with all of his mailing information..."

"He didn't fax anything. He needs to tell us what he needs. I'm not seeing any form. Just tell him to call me."

"He is out sick today and he already faxed the form and I brought a second one just in case. I signed it and dated it and I watched Competence Ninja put it in my chart. It asks for everything..."

"Okay, I see it here. This doesn't look right. He needs to tell us what he needs us to send him."

"It says in the letter, 'to release any medical information, including medical records, written letters, treatment reports, testing results, or similar information.' Should it say something different?"

"I've been doing this 20 years and I've never seen anything like this. He needs to be more specific. I ain't sending him all that, hon."

"So, this is for my disability case. I already talked to the nurse about this. And I know it is a lot, but the doctor's records are the only direct evidence that I've been sick since 2001."

"So you just need something from 2001? Okay, the lawyer needs to fax something saying that."

"I need the entire handwritten chart copied and sent to the lawyer. We need a full record of my illness because..."

"This is ridiculous. You're lawyer is fucking lazy. I've never seen anything like this. And I'm worried he is not going to represent your interests."

"This is not a normal disability claim. If you'd allow me to explain I think you'd understand why I need..."

"Disability should already have all this. We shouldn't need to send this. This is fucking ridiculous and you need a new lawyer. You're going to lose your case with his lazy ass."

"This isn't normal disability. I need to prove that I've been sick for a long time and..."

"This is going to cost a fortune, you know? We charge 50 cents per page. You're going to be out hundreds of dollars."

"Okay, but I will be out thousands of dollars if I don't get this copied."

"Fuck it. I am going to copy this ONCE. No more after this. UNDERSTOOD?"

And... she hung up on me.

My heart was beating out of my chest with panic and my eyes were blurry with tears. And in that moment, I thought I had done something wrong. My doctor gave me his personal mobile number so I call him up with tears apparent in my voice. I explain what just happened and that I was really sorry and that I didn't mean to upset her. He told me she is "just like that sometimes" and I shouldn't take it to heart. They have a very serious deadline for something due that day and she was very upset and I was collateral damage. I asked him to apologize for me and he said there was no need. He said we'd work it all out on Monday when this deadline wasn't stressing everyone out.

It wasn't until I calmed down a bit that I realized I did absolutely nothing wrong. That she was just being a big jerk and taking her other problems out on me. And I was probably the one deserving of an apology. I also remembered this is not the first time she has blown up at me. She was the one who tried to make me get a ventilator instead of a proper CPAP machine years ago. She said, "My mom has one and it works fine." And I was like, "So if I travel I'm supposed to take 12 pounds of medical equipment instead of a 1 pound device that fits neatly into a backpack?"

I get why my doctor made excuses for her. She works very hard and puts up with him. He'd never be able to find anyone that would last a week doing that job. And I have a feeling he probably defended me after I called. I played what he said back in my brain and noticed a frustrated tone. Despite what he said, it seems clear he was pissed.

I can make amends and figure things out with her. That isn't an issue. But I am worried that between her and CPAP lady, all of the progress I've made trying to reduce my telephobia was erased. I really was getting better calling people. I used to need Katrina hanging out on Skype while I called anyone as moral support. And while it still helps, I've gotten a lot better at calling strangers on my own. But now, I'm not so sure.

I might ask if there is an office email address I can use from now on. If I can write out what I need there is no way to get interrupted. I can be clear and detailed and use my writing skills to communicate way better than my phone skills.

I don't know.

It was just a crappy way to end a stressful, exhausting week.

But it wasn't the end!

Friday evening my sick lawyer finally called. I had rehearsed all kinds of things I wanted to say to him. But it turns out, all of my emails already did most of the talking—proof that I write a great email. He was really impressed with all of my detective work. And he said if those records pan out, he is very optimistic about my case going forward. He also said that he was expecting a denial. And it was probably good that we got that out of the way quickly. And now we get to mount more of a defense, which is what lawyers are good at. We talked for about 20 minutes and came up with a battle plan. He explained the process going forward. But he mentioned one thing that worried me.

This could take a while.

A lot longer than I was expecting.

I explained that I currently have a runway until about June 2024. That's when the mortgage money runs out. However, my brother should be willing to release my inheritance in March. I hope. I have a hard time trusting anything my brother says anymore. But if he does, then I should have another year of mortgage payments. But I am definitely going to have a Plan B just in case my brother finds a new way to disrespect my father's wishes.

The lawyer said there is a quick thing and a long thing. The quick thing has a low chance of success. But it is worth trying. The long thing is a hearing with a Social Security lawyer. He said a lot of these lawyers are miserable and don't want to be there and don't really care. Which is a good thing because they'll just be like, "Fine, whatever." But it can take a long time to get a hearing due to backlogs.

So, as long as I can gather all the evidence and the hospital records have my ECT stuff, I think there is room for hope. A little hope. After years of chronic illness I know hope is sometimes dangerous. So I allot a tiny bit of hope to keep me going forward, but not enough hope to leave me devastated if things go tits up.

So... umm... I think that is the end of this novel of a post. I feel bad that I don't have a big climax or twist or cliffhanger. Should I add a big CGI dragon fight?

Even though a more down-to-earth kung fu fight with my brother would be a more satisfying conclusion?

Or I could pull an M. Night Shyamalan and reveal that I've been dead for quite some time.

This post is getting really long.

Why are you still reading this?

I am thankful that you are. I just needed to get all of that out. I hope I wrote it in a compelling way and you weren't bored.

I love you all.

#long post #i see dead frogpeople

[mllemarianne]

Striving

Aemond Targaryen x F!Strong!Reader

Part 1: Deserving Part 2: Indulging Part 3: Striving

Summary: When you are summoned to King’s Landing to discuss the future of the Kingdom, Aemond is confronted by the ghosts of his past. Unfortunately, with grudges like these, it only takes a moment for one’s life to be turned upside down. It is why, on that frightful night, the people of the court gather in the throne room to hear the sad news. After all, any day the stranger comes to claim a life is a sad day… but whose life is it?

Word count: 18k 

Warnings: Angst, fluff and smut (5k words of it!) Emotional hurt/comfort. Mentions of grief, neglect, absent parent. English is my second language.

N/A: Buckle up guys, you are in for a ride. This is the third and last part of their story. This part is a little different. A lot of Aemond POV (including the smut!) Aemond has come a long way, yet he still holds grudges... This time, it really feels like the ending Aemond deserves.

AO3 | Masterlist

AEMOND

Aemond stood on top of the castle walls, trembling in his icy drenched clothes. His wavy silvery hair flew in the faint wind, a sharp contrast with the storm that broke over the whole east coast of Westeros in the past few hours. The sun pierced the clouds and engulfed the region in a warm orange light, another sharp contrast with the dire predicament Aemond found himself in.

For a second time, he had to fly through atrocious weather on Vaghar above the Stormlands. The first time was indisputably unpleasant. It happened a few moons back. Seven to be precise. The pouring rain forced him to take shelter for a night in a grubbly inn. A night where he shared a bed with you. A night that changed everything.

This time, however… it had been truly horrific. For various and obvious reasons.

A few hours had gone by since he came back to the Red Keep. He could not spare a single minute to change, but at that point, he did not care. Too much had happened in such a short period of time and damp clothes were the least of his concerns.

Quietly crying, he glanced down at the people of the court walking through the yard to enter the castle. He observed your brother, followed by other knights, rushing to the entrance, shoving men and women aside. Mayhaps it was time for Aemond to get back inside too. Afterall, the announcement would be made in the throne room any minute.

Walking slowly, Aemond joined his brothers and sister on the dais where stood the Iron Throne. He instinctively wedged himself between the Queen and Helaena, seeking comfort. Dangling somewhere between numbness and sorrow, he dropped his head so no one could see his eye glisten in the dim lighting.

He did not have his eyepatch on and could not bear the stares. Not this time. 

Helaena hooked her arm through his. He appreciated the gesture since he knew of her disinclination towards physical contact. She had tears in her eyes too, her lips pressed in a thin line. He sneaked a peek at the rest of the royal family, gathered on the other side of the Throne. Jacaerys stood with his younger brother Joffrey, Lady Baela, Lady Rhaena and Prince Daemon. While some quietly exchanged words with each other, they all had something in common.

They had their eyes locked on Aemond.

They knew. 

Aemond glanced down at his feet again, his expression tortured, avoiding any and all of their stares. Prince Daemon, especially, appeared on the verge of slaughtering half the people in the room until Aemond’s older sister, Rhaenyra, came to stand before him and took his hand in hers. She did not look at Aemond for one second. 

Lords and ladies as well as knights flooded the throne room, all impatiently waiting to hear the news that had them cutting short their dinner. They knew one thing for sure. Three people were missing from the royal dais.

Maester Mellos asked both sides of the family for permission to proceed, then walked to the front and cleared his throat. “Even though it is almost the hour of the bat, we are gathered here in great sadness, for any day the stranger comes to claim a life is a sad day.”

Aemond was half listening. The old maester’s words almost felt like distant noises. He looked around the room now dark and gloomy since the sun had set. He noted your father and brother’s absence. They probably rushed to your chambers, to see for themselves…

To say that Aemond’s whole life changed in the span of a few hours was certainly… an understatement.

5 days before

AEMOND

"My lady, my lord. A raven from King’s Landing," a voice resounded through your chamber’s door.

You sighed, shoving your face in your pillow. Aemond groaned, his nose still buried in your sweaty neck. His front was pressed to your back, the pad of his fingers softly grazed the silky skin of your thighs, soothing the flesh he held onto so tightly until then.

It was definitely too early for ravens.

“No, stay,” he murmured in your ear when he felt you moved slightly. He wrapped his arms around your bust and belly, one of his hands cupping your tender breast. You mewled when he left a trail of kisses on your neck, setting your nerves ablaze again. You were basking in the afterglow of your joining still. He literally spent the last hour worshiping you thoroughly.

He only wished to breathe in your blissful scent, to savor your heavenly taste and to revel in the singular feeling of your warm velvety walls pulsing around his cock for a few moments more. You had yet to catch your breath, shivering all over whenever he dared move an inch.

Nuzzling the soft skin behind your ear, the corners of his mouth curled in a blissful smile. He liked the scent of you in the morning. Your very skin and hair smelled of honeysuckle and lush gardens— oils and flowers you bathed in every night to soothe the pains of carrying his heir these past seven moons. However, in the morning, usually after you shared your body with him, you smelled of love too. It was the only way Aemond could describe it.

When sweat veiled your skin after he had your heart beating fast. When you soaked his thighs, riding him into oblivion. When your hair stuck to your forehead while he trapped you under him and pounded into you mercilessly. When tears dried on your cheeks after he went on and on, faster and deeper, without relenting.

Aemond could not get enough. You were glowing with love and life. Mayhaps it was because of the little dragon growing in your womb, but it appeared you could not get enough of him as well. So he obliged you. Vigorously. Granted he did not need much convincing, even when the occasion did not call for it.

He smirked as he recalled you dismissing the lords during a council meeting just so he could fuck you senseless on the large wooden table. It was the least he could do since you were the one carrying his child.

That morning was no exception. The sun was high in the sky, which meant you were still sharing a bed when you should have been sharing duties of Lady and Lord of Harrenhal. That being said, leaving your side was not amongst Aemond’s utmost priorities. He grumbled his displeasure loudly as Maester Sylvan knocked once more.

"It is an urgent matter, I’m afraid," he stated, the chains he wore clanking against the wooden door of your chambers.

READER

You chuckled, while Aemond fumed. Since you were lady and lord of Harrenhal, you noticed how every raven was "a matter of most urgency". Although, you could understand why the poor Maester insisted.

You recalled how one day, Aemond had enough of the trivial messages delivered at dawn.

The news came that Lord Luthor Tyrell— your “betrothed for a day”—  got engaged to a daughter of House Baratheon of Storm’s End. Aemond all but crumpled the message and threw it in the fire angrily, asking the Maester why the news was deemed urgent.

You had shared with Aemond the last words you exchanged with Luthor, at your engagement feast of all places. Except you did not mention the “Enjoy being a cripple’s whore” comment, fearing Aemond would have left to go burn the entirety of Highgarden with Vaghar and possibly start a war with The Reach. Fearing for his life as well, the Maester excused himself and ran before you could say anything.

Aemond rubbed his marred cheek, looking desperate.

“Maester Sylvan insists on relaying any message immediately because the last time he didn’t, my mother gave birth to me and died before my father could reach her,” you revealed with a gentle tone.

A pink hue tinted Aemond’s cheeks. His shoulder sagged briefly before he straightened, crossed his arms behind his back and looked at you with contrition. He apologized sincerely.

“It’s alright, you did not know. Maester Sylvan all but raised me alongside my father until I was ten of age and moved to King’s Landing,” you explained, remembering how he used to secretly nick raspberry tarts from the kitchens to goad you into learning more houses of the realm as well as their sigils. “Besides, you don’t see me losing my mind at the mere mention of Lord Boros’ daughters. Weren’t you supposed to marry Ellyn?”

You heard a faint “hm” as an answer. 

After that, Aemond never complained about the early morning ravens again. You were used to his temper anyway. It was improving, at least.

Lost in your thoughts of urgent messages and raspberry tarts, you startled as Aemond kissed your shoulder and detangled himself from you. You winced as he left both your body and your bed, a cold draft hitting your behind as he lifted the sheets. He dressed quickly, opened the door and thanked the Maester for his diligence. He ordered the maids to draw you a bath and came back to you, half sitting on the edge of the bed.

“What does it say?” you asked his face all but drained of its colors.

“To Lady Y/n Strong and her husband Prince Aemond Targaryen, Lady and Lord of Harrenhal. You are hereby summoned to King’s Landing in order to celebrate the union of two great houses. Lady Helaena Targaryen, second daughter of King Viserys I, and Jacaerys Targaryen, crowned Prince and first born son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and the late Lord Lenor Velaryon, are to be wed. The King wishes for both families to meet in three days time to discuss the future of the Kingdom,” read aloud Aemond. “It is signed with your father the Hand’s seal.”

“Well… this is indeed an urgent matter. We have to make plans now,” you noted, already thinking of the burden of flying in your condition. Then you noticed Aemond was silent, reading the message over and over again. “Speak, but I know what you are thinking.”

“My father wants my sister to wed Jacaerys,” he groused, frowning horribly.

You took his hand and traced figures on his calloused palm. “…It was a matter of time. You saw them dance together at our wedding… You have to admit they are well matched… mayhaps it is a first step towards reconciliation.”

“We are past reconciliation,” he snarled, standing again to throw the message in the fire. “Aegon, Jacaerys and Lucerys made my life a living hell. For years. And my father never said a thing. Aegon is the only one who apologized since. Vaghar scares him to death,” he specified, looking at the scroll slowly turning into ashes. “But my nephews never showed a single glimpse of remorse. Not for the laughs, not for the fucking pig with wings and certainly not for ganging up on me and taking my eye. They probably still think it was justice well served for ‘stealing’ Vaghar.”

You did not push him any further. Even though almost ten years had passed, it still pained him. However nice it had been at Harrenhal, you knew resentment lurked under his skin irregardless. You felt it every time the crowned Princes or his father were mentioned. Aemond was all about strength, will and power. On the outside, at least. You knew him as a passionate and caring man too. He was complex, hiding a very vulnerable side still hurting from years of mistreatment and neglect.

In spite of it all, not once have you seen him actually cry. Even when you confessed your love in each other's arms during your adventures in the Stormlands. Even when he realized you had dragged him to a Valyrian wedding. His eye was bright with unshed tears but his determination to look strong always won in the end. When you were younger, whenever he spent time with his nephews, he always came back to you looking pitiful but never tearful. That is when you began going to the library every night with him. You wanted Aemond to know that he had a friend in the Red Keep. The rest was history.

Aemond buttoned his tunic, put on his boots and hung his sword to his leather belt before he left to sort out your departure. The guards had to leave on foot now while you would join them in two days time on dragonback. You got up as well, both hands on your round belly, and went to bathe in floral oils and herbs like Maester Sylvan recommended. It did soothe the pain in your lower back and the nausea that burdened you lately. Sitting in your bath and closing your eyes, you realized how things changed during the last seven moons since you wed and moved to Harrenhal.

These days, you took baths and enjoyed leisurely walks in the meadows— that is, when your lower back allowed you— instead of training in the morning. When Maester Sylvan confirmed you were with child, Aemond all but denied you entry to your training yard. You were outraged.

He was anything but a fool. He waited for you at the entrance the next morning to make sure you turned right back around. He outright refused to even unsheathe his sword in your presence. Unsurprisingly, not a single knight dared offer sparring with their expecting lady either. Especially when your Prince was there to stare them down. You ultimately yielded, agreeing to simply observe— ogle really— Aemond in his training gear.

Your husband started to embrace his appearance too. For so long it hurt to see the frightened look on people’s faces… even if he drew satisfaction from scaring away the knights who got too friendly with you or the lords who wanted a dance during feasts.

Yet after a while, he started showing up to the training yard without his eyepatch. Then at the council meetings. In the end, he even attended dinners and feasts without it. The people grew accustomed to his beautiful glowing sapphire eye. He even seemed to forget about the gem, only to be reminded of it when he spied blue specks of lights dancing on someone’s face when the sun was out.

His appetite also changed. You thought he was insatiable before, but it was nothing compared to the beast he had become since you had your own little kingdom. Once upon a time, you had a little game where he kissed you when no one was looking. The game somehow changed a little since. Harrenhal was full of dark corners and secret passages. Lately, you found yourself, more often than not, pressed up against a stone wall or lying down on a window seat with your Prince driving in and out of you, swallowing your cries with a kiss.

“I enjoy the sight of you walking around with me dripping down your thighs,” he shamelessly confided in you once, letting down the hem of your dress after he ruined you in an alcove before a council meeting. His filthy words got to you every time.

It was no secret that he thrived now that he got out of King’s Landing. At Harrenhal, he took part in the running of the Riverlands as head of the council, by your side. He oversaw the army training and battle strategy. He taught swordplay and hand-to-hand combat to new recruits. He had access to a thousand new books thanks to your ancestors' love for academics. And since you were eager to learn, Aemond taught you High Valyrian too.

It was like after years of aimlessly roaming the halls of the Red Keep, he found a purpose. Seeing him like that, content and untroubled, filled you with so much joy you thought you would burst. 

That is why going back to King’s Landing made you so nervous.

2 days before

READER

Aemond had a special saddle made for Vaghar so you could ride comfortably in front of him without squashing the child. It had so many ropes and chains that you scoffed as he gently tied you to it.

“There may be bad weather. I’m not watching you fall off this dragon,” he justified patiently.

Unfortunately, the flight gave you a crippling nausea. When you landed on the beach of King’s Landing two hours later, you were white as a sheet and wished for nothing but rest. He fussed when you climbed down the net on Vaghar’s side as well.

Aemond took great care of you, and you were grateful by all means, but sometimes you liked to remind him you were not a delicate flower and if not for your belly, you could knock him to the ground in a training yard. Each time he smirked and kissed your cheek as an apology. He knew you had a temper too.

You climbed all the steps to the Red Keep and met Queen Alicent and Princess Halaena at the top. The Queen went to her son immediately, wrapping her arms around him in a warm loving hug. She embraced you as well, overjoyed. “Blessed be The Mother, a child so soon,” she teared up, pressing a hand on the side of your belly. “Come. The King will join us shortly. The rest of the family is in the great hall.” 

Aemond stayed with his mother, but it was not by choice. She held onto him so tight he glanced at you for help at one point. But who were you to deny a Queen the presence of her own beloved son?

You walked alongside Halaena who seemed positively radiant. You knew she was happy about her betrothal. You saw how Jacaerys asked her for a dance at your wedding and how they treasured each other’s company for the rest of the night. 

You kept that information to yourself, but a part of you felt like you should reach out to Aemond’s nephews… well, your nephews too it seemed. You hoped it was finally the beginning of a new era, where both families put their differences aside and started working together toward a better future for the Kingdom. Except you knew without a doubt that the heart of the problem resided in one dreadful night in Driftmark when a child was armed and no justice was served. 

The whole royal family was indeed in the great hall, discussing with the people of the court. You stared back at your Prince immediately.

He tensed before the crowd. He reached into his pocket and fished out his eyepatch. You did not even know he took it with him. It saddened you when he put it on quickly before he joined his brothers, Prince Aegon and Prince Daeron.

You did not see any familiar faces yet. Your father was with the King of course, and your brother would not mingle with the royal family in these circumstances anyway. So you followed Princess Helaena who joined Prince Jacaerys, and his siblings.

“Your graces, ladies.” You bowed to the Princes and greeted Lady Baela and Rhaena. They greeted you back, but it was Prince Lucerys who stepped forward and spoke directly to you.

“We know you know. Sir Harwin told us,” he hushed.

On the day of your wedding, you questioned your brother once and for all and demanded the truth. He confirmed he was indeed the father of the three crowned Princes. He apparently had an arrangement with Prince Daemon who did not resent him nor Princess Rhaenera, but wished to keep Harwin at Dragonstone. For the Princes’ sakes.

That is when Harwin abdicated his title of heir of Harrenhal. It was his wedding present to you and Aemond, in a way. The biggest castle in Westeros— even if some of it melted a bit long ago—, vast green lands with rivers and lakes, a large army… It still felt surreal to have all that to yourself. You were a second born as well, and second born usually get nothing. Also, you were a woman. Your father never treated you any differently for it, but he warned you that it would not be the case with every other lord you would cross paths with.

“Oh, I see. Of course he would,” you answered hesitantly. “As a matter of fact… I wish we could know each other better, your grace.”

“You are part of the family now. In more than one way,” he said in hushed tones, referring to you technically being their aunt. “You can drop the formal titles.”

Aemond and Helaena were the only ones you dared address without a title. Never had you dreamed of doing the same with the crowned Princes. “Old habits die hard” but you would try.

“I’m obviously in no condition to train with you in the morning, but perhaps you would join me for a tea later today? All of you. Baela and Rhaena too.”

“Will he be there?” bluntly inquired Baela before her sister Rhaena subtly elbowed her in the ribs. Knowing who “he” was, you glanced at the other side of the hall to find Aemond already looking at you with fire in his eye. You realized you were still standing quite close to Princ— to Lucerys. You took two steps back hastily and addressed Baela’s question with the truth.

“I don’t believe he would join us, no. I wish we could discuss this as well. It is my desire that we find a way to… ease tensions at the very least.”

“Say that to him. We never had a problem with you. He is the one staring like he is about to murder us,” muttered Baela. You did not need to turn your head around to know exactly what Aemond looked like that very moment. Surprisingly, it was Rhaena who stepped forward and spoke to you.

“I’ve come to peace with my mother’s dragon being claimed by Aemond a long time ago. I have Morning now and I love her so very dearly. We could indeed put all this behind us,” she spoke serenely. “I’m ready… but is he?”

“It’s me he resents, not you,” Lucerys intervened. “I’m not ashamed I defended my brother during the brawl, but I regret hurting Aemond. Truly.”

You knew it would not be that simple. Not when Aemond just came back to this wretched place, as he often called it. Not as he was forced to put his eyepatch back on. And obviously not while he shared that space with the very people who changed his life in one night with one knife.

Aemond’s whole being was tainted by the events occurring on that dreadful night he claimed Vaghar. Even if Lucerys came forward and begged for forgiveness, you were not sure Aemond would ever feel inclined to offer it to him.

You discussed some more, mainly about how life was respectively at Harrenhal, Dragonstone and Driftmark. When it was announced that the King would join you in the Throne room, you went back to Aemond who wasted no time asking what in the seven hells you were doing. He asked calmly but firmly, reaching for your hand.

“I’m establishing a peaceful relationship with the crowned Princes now that I am part of this family and Lady of Harrenhal,” you affirmed, lacing your fingers to his.

“They don’t deserve this kindness,” he stated, glaring at them on the other side of the hall.

“They are my family as well,” you replied, lowering your voice. “I’m not doing this to vex you, Aemond. And for all we know, mayhaps our child will marry one of theirs one day. I’m merely saying that… We want to build a better future. If not for us then for our child. It does not mean I forget.”

Aemond frowned at your answer as his father walked through the doors. King Viserys seemed overwhelmed as he welcomed each member of his family. Clutching at his chest, he gazed upon all the familiar faces reunited in one room for the first time in a long time. When he got to you, he rejoiced as he saw your round belly. “Lady Strong, what a wonderful sight!”

“Your grace,” you bowed slightly, as gracefully as your lower back pain allowed you. Aemond instantly circled an arm around your waist to support you.

“Father.” Aemond respectfully bowed his head as well.

“My son, I’m so very glad to see you,” beamed the King, a sincere smile on his lips. A smile that Aemond, unfortunately, did not return. The King went on to greet his youngest son Daeron.

You felt bad for your Prince. You knew what he thought of his father. Neglectful. Absent. Unjust. Aemond rarely spoke of his childhood for many reasons. The King being one. You met him when you were both ten of age, and for the ten years that had gone by, you barely recalled a handful of times you saw them interacting. They did not have the kind of warm relationship you had with your father, the Hand.

In all sincerity, you felt bad for the King as well. He seemed genuinely happy to see Aemond again. The Queen followed him around closely, holding his arm throughout the very short moment he was actually in the hall. 

Aemond long debated whether to accompany you to tea with his nephews and nieces or not. He did not want to attend but leaving your side bothered him as well. In the end, he joined his mother and siblings instead.

Although, Vaghar flew above your heads at one point during your meal in the gardens. Her roar had your table and teacups shake, spilling tea in the saucers. Servants grabbed plates of pastries so they would not fall on the ground. You were not impressed Aemond wanted to taunt them while you actively fought for peace. 

“I thought he was handsome,” Rhaena admitted, slightly blushing.

“I beg your pardon?” Lucerys half spit his tea all over his lemon cakes, surprised at his bethroted’s words.

“Luthor Tyrell is a pompous arsehole of inordinate proportions,” you asserted unashamedly.

“I like her,” Baela smirked, turning to her sister Rhaena.

Jacaerys then cleared his throat and addressed the most delicate and obvious of all subjects. “How is Prince Aemond? Obviously, he did not want to join us. We understand why, but—”

“I’m surprised he even let you come here alone,” cut Baela under her breath.

“Baela!” admonished Rhaena. “It is unbecoming.”

“Don’t fret,” you reassured, raising a hand in reassurance. “You are right, Jacaerys. Aemond did not want to have tea with us today, especially since he did not know that I was planning on it for a while. Of course I wish for both families to mend their bridges. I will not speak for him however. He can do it in his own time.” You turned to Baela. “Lastly, if you are under the impression that Aemond Targaryen controls my every move, you are sorely mistaken.”

“Hm.”

You froze in place as you recognized the sound all too well. No one looked at you anymore. “He is right behind me, isn’t he?” you asked in a low voice. Jacaerys nodded as you felt Aemond’s hand on your shoulder. His long fingers brushed against your neck as he bent down to whisper in your ear. “I was fetching you for a walk, my love.”

“Oh,” you managed to articulate, your whole being distracted by his hand skimming the nape of your neck and plunging down the back in your dress. “Yes, of course.”

“Nephews. Nieces,” he added, acknowledging their presence at last. They nodded politely in return. You thanked them for their company and asserted your wish to do it again soon.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Aemond inquired politely when you were at a safe distance, extending his arm so you could grab it.

You chose your words carefully since he was visibly grumpy.

“Well, if you wish to remain in my good graces, you will stop flying Vaghar above our heads when we’re having tea in the garden. You almost had our entire tray of apricot tarts fall in the dirt. Wars have been waged for less.”

The corners of his mouth curled into a smirk. He was proud of his little stunt. You were not surprised. Unimpressed, but not surprised.

He stayed silent, so you continued tentatively. “They changed, Aemond. And for what it’s worth, Lucerys regrets what he did and I truly believe he would like to formally apologize. Baela is feisty and protective of her sister, but Rhaena is at peace with what happened.”

“Apologies do not magically absolve you of anything,” he retorted, pulling on your arm so you left the marked path and went through a line of shrubs. “The other person may never forgive you and you have to live with that possibility. I will never forgive them, and they have to accept that.”

Your walk was short since you experienced small contractions. Maester Sylvan told you it was normal to have some from time to time during the three last moons. The womb was preparing itself for the birth. 

You went to your favorite secret spot far away in the gardens to lay down in the tall grass under your favorite willow tree. You reached for his eyepatch and took it off.

“Sȳrkta,” you whispered. Better.

You kissed his marred cheek and he smiled. Your High Valyrian was improving, but you understood it more than you spoke it. You held him tight in your arms and watched the clouds as he mindlessly brushed your long hair with his fingers. When your belly moved on his own, he pressed his hand to it to feel the little dragon inside.

Thoroughly exhausted, you slowly drifted off, listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the nearby coast…

“Nyke jaelagon īlin rȳ lenton,” you heard before you fell asleep in his arms. I wish we were at home.

AEMOND

Came the moment you left Harrenhal for. Aemond wished you could attend the council meeting but you were indisposed. When you woke up from your nap in the gardens, you were a little cranky. The pain in your back was killing you and the nausea was horrible since you got to King’s Landing.

The city stank, you were too hot, your dresses were too tight and just looking at the multiple flights of stairs gave you hives. He knew everything bothered you ten times more because of your condition, so your maid Maeva escorted you back to your chambers to bathe while Aemond went alone to the council chamber.

He dreaded that moment ever since he got the raven two days before. You were not fit to travel for extended periods of time on dragonback. You had much to do at Harrenhal like supervising the rebuild of the east tower for your new chambers and nursery. He had new recruits to train too.

As he sat at the large table, Aemond could not imagine why the entire family had to gather in King’s Landing for. He looked at his father who seemed happy to be in the presence of his entire family, for once. Strangely, there was something he could not decipher in his eyes. Then again, Aemond did not know him enough to guess what it could possibly be.

 “Shouldn’t we be addressing the Baratheons of Storm’s End and the Tyrells of Highgarden forming an alliance through marriage behind our backs?” suggested Daemon who sat nonchalantly at the other end of the table.

“Yes, brother. But for now, I wish to speak of the line of succession,” dismissed the King in one breath.

“What about it?” queried Daemon suspiciously, a warning somewhere in his tone. He exchanged a quick glance with Rheanyra.

It did seem positively pointless. Jacaerys was to marry Helaena and he would sit on the Iron Throne eventually, end of the story. Nothing more could be said on the subject. 

“Rhaenyra, you are heir to the iron throne, with Daemon at your side. Nothing will ever change that. I purely wish to make sure no one is overlooked,” reassured the King, clearing his throat.

Well. That was unexpected.

“Before the moon turns, Jacaerys and Haelena will be man and wife. They will be heir to the iron throne after you, Rhaenyra. Which means Dragonstone will be vacant. Joffrey, and his betrothed Baela, shall be heir to Dragonstone. Lucerys, as the second oldest son of the late Leanor Valaryon, will be heir to Driftmark with his betrothed, Lady Rhaena.”

His nephews and nieces looked ecstatic, understandably. Aemond fought not to roll his eye.

“My firstborn son, Aegon, shall inherit the Hightower family seat in Oldtown with its lands, army and fleet,” the King announced before he turned to Aemond. “My second born son Aemond is settled at Harrenhal already, thanks to his union with Lady Y/n Strong, heir to its castle, lands and army. Then comes young Daeron who is betrothed to Lady Amyra of Winterfell…”

Aemond’s eye narrowed in confusion. The King went on speaking of the lands he gifted to his grandchildren Viserys, Aegon and even the unborn child in Rhaenyra’s womb… until Aemond was not listening anymore.

Nothing?

His father bestowed islands, gold, castles and lands on every child and grandchild… except him? 

Anger simmered under his skin. He tried to keep his temper under control but he snapped when members of the council applauded at the end of his father’s speech.

“What happened to you making sure nobody was overlooked?” he spoke fiercely. “Forgive me father, but I find it hard to sit back and applaud when even unborn children get lands when I get absolutely nothing.”

“You are Lord of Harrenhal, nephew,” drawled Daemon. “Men would kill to get this small kingdom, sit down.”

“Daemon, please.” Viserys lifted a hand to silence his brother. “Now is not the time to bicker.”

Aemond knew he was most fortunate, having Harrenhal and the whole of the Riverlands in his grasp. Ever since he was born, he was destined to be a war commander at most, but got lucky when his wife became heir. Hells, he did not give a single fuck about Dragonstone or the Hightower family seat. He did not wish for a second castle. He just wanted… something. Was he not worthy of anything? His father showered everyone else in gifts and gold while he was ignored. Again.

He was always the overlooked son. The second son. The crippled second son. Suddenly his scar itched awfully. His hands stimmed on the handle of his knife as he fought the urge to rip his eyepatch off.

The King stood up slowly and a heavy silence fell upon the room. Aemond saw his mother’s nervous stare in the corner of his eye as he did not sit back down while his father spoke.

“It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around this table. The faces most dear to me in all the world. You’ve grown so distant from each other in years past. The crown cannot stand strong while the House of the Dragon remains divided,” condemned the King in a ragged breath. “I merely gave to those who needed receiving… So tonight, I ask for one thing… as your father, your brother, your husband, your grandsire… I asked that you set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man, who loves you all so dearly.”

Still standing, Aemond looked his father in the eyes and said the words he waited all his life to say out loud.

“You never were a father to me.”

The silence was even louder. You could hear the fire crackling in the hearth, but it was nothing on the fire that burned in Aemond’s chest— the fire of a thousand dragons. His father looked down, his hand trembling on the pommel of his sword.

“I taught myself High Valyrian,” Aemond continued, his stare hard and unfaltering. “I learned how to ride a dragon alone. I trained, studied and explored the realm all on my own. I lost an eye and not even then did you carry some sort of justice. Your own son was attacked and you did not care in the least. My wife was more of a family member than you ever were. So forgive me if I don’t stand back and watch when, again, I’m reminded that I’m nothing to you.”

“Aemond!” he heard his mother cry out as he stormed off. “Aemond, come back!”

He briefly glanced back when he turned left in the hallway. He saw his father crashing in his seat, shattered at his son’s words, a hand over his heart, his mother rushing to his side.

Walking fast, Aemond first wanted to get back to you and to lose himself in your embrace until you made him see stars…

But you were probably still bathing. Besides, he could not bear to see the worry in your eyes as you learned that he, once again, lost his temper. In front of the whole family this time.

He grabbed a hood in his old chambers, went straight to the beach and flew on Vaghar in the night sky like he did that first time he claimed the beast. He wanted to leave the castle. He needed to think. He needed clarity.

READER

When you thought Aemond came back to your chambers that evening, you were surprised to see your father slipping through your door instead. He explained what happened at the council meeting and how Aemond just… left. 

He climbed on Vaghar and left.

You knew he would never abandon you. He was probably blowing off some steam and, of course, he did not want to burden you. It saddened you to see Aemond losing all the assurance and serenity he found at Harrenhal these past few months. Now resentment and frustration consumed him again. You felt the heartbreak even down in your belly and pressed your hands on either side.

Your father’s company soothed you for a while. With Aemond’s absence, you came to realize that… you have no one except for him. Even your brother was busy with his duties. You tried to ease tensions with the Princes, but they were never close to you— namely because of how close to Aemond you always were.

Helaena came later to comfort you. She brought with her a large book depicting the many insects of Westeros and one of the castle’s cats. “They both bring me comfort when I’m alone,” she prompted as you petted the little purring creature.

Hours passed. The room was dark and the fire had died long before when the sound of your door jolted you awake. You saw a glimpse of long silvery white hair and immediately tried to stand up.

"No, don’t get up. Don’t move," Aemond whispered hurriedly.

He only had his white shift and leather trousers on. He carried the rest in his arm and threw it all on the ground beside your bed. His hair was damp and wavy. 

"Are you alright?" you asked in a husky voice.

"Yes,” he answered, taking off the rest of his clothing. He flipped his hair and his delicious sandalwood and amber scent hit you at once. He bathed before he came to your chambers. And now he was gloriously naked before you, one of his hands reaching for your hip. “I just need you right now… Is that alright?"

“Always. Come here.” You lifted the sheets behind you. He climbed in your bed and he wrapped his arms around your body, one circling your neck, immediately plunging his hand in your collar to grab your plump breasts. The other rumpled the hem of your nightgown until he bared your bottom half to him. He caressed your swollen belly while he peppered your neck with kisses. His breath was ragged. As if he was desperate.

“You are so good to me, Y/n…” he purred in your ear, making your whole body shiver.

AEMOND

For a second, Aemond forgot everything. He forgot about his father who all but confirmed he could not care less about him. He forgot about the snarks and gossip following him literally anywhere in the Red Keep. He forgot about the damn eyepatch itching his skin again, having him on edge all day. And he forgot about his nephews and nieces who were rewarded and all looked at him like he was the problem.

At least he had you.

He had you and he did not need anybody else. Having you in his arms was worth a thousand castles, gold coins and books combined. After the evening he had, he only wished to be with the only person who treated him right, who looked at him without flinching, who loved him for all that he was.

You arched your back against him when he eagerly caressed every inch of your soft skin. Especially your swollen belly. 

Only three moons after your wedding did he notice a small bump appearing. If Maester Sylvan was right, it was entirely possible that the child was conceived before the wedding. Your father had moon tea delivered nightly to your chambers but you never cared to take it. Aemond never would have pressured you, but you were eager to start a family. 

You moaned softly when his fingers delicately parted your legs and cupped your cunt, looking for that sensitive little bud. He hovered, skimmed and teased without putting any real pressure with the hands you loved so much. He knew exactly how to unravel you, even when you were half awake. He grinded his hard cock against you, the head brushing the wetness between your thighs.

“You can talk to me, my love,” you breathed, but Aemond did not feel like it. 

“For now, I just want to feel you…” he confessed, biting your ear.

You yelped.

“…I want to fuck you until you are clenching down on my cock so hard that I can’t remember my name,” he growled, the tip of his manhood slowly brushing against your center. "Can you do that for me, love?” 

“Ye- yes,” you stuttered. He smirked, liking the power his filthy words had on you. 

Eyes closed, still sleepy, you lazily moved your hips as his fingers dipped in and out of you now. You sighed and he kissed the crook of your neck. He kept the pace until your breaths were short and you writhed against him. You quickly soaked his hand and mewled in your pillow as he kept circling your clit with his thumb.

You filled his hands so deliciously lately. Not only had your belly swollen, your breasts were definitely more full, nearly spilling from your dresses every time you took a breath. He found himself side-eyeing them constantly, trying to be subtle about it. Your behind felt more round too, your thighs soft and squishy. Aemond could barely keep his hands to himself, even now, one of them caressed your full breasts while the other expertly rubbed the most intimate part of you. 

You were glowing, brimming with life, even in that stinking nightmare of a city. He could always count on you to turn on the light even in the darkest of places. You were a beacon calling to him, his port in a storm, his moon in a starless sky. 

He pressed his front to your back even more, pulled one of your legs up and pressed his cock to your core. Your hand reached back for his neck, desperate to touch him.

Usually, he would have you come on his hand at least once before he buried himself into you, but not tonight. He needed you. And he knew you could take it. 

Inch by inch, he entered you and you exhaled loudly. With a few strong thrust, he seated himself fully and grunted in your neck, inhaling your sweet honeysuckle and flowers scent.

Warm. So warm. And tight. 

His strong hand held you in place by your hip while you whined at the stretch, your walls strangling his cock as you struggled to take all of him. His fingers digging in your smooth skin, he gently rolled his hips to bury himself all the way. The exquisite feeling had him lose himself almost instantly. Then he really moved.

He filled you again. And again. And again. Harder. Deeper. Faster.

De drew all sorts of sounds out of you and loved every second of it. Nothing brought him more satisfaction than hearing you panting— or better still, screaming— his name when you fell apart under his ministrations. That at least, he knew he was doing right. Oh how he liked to see you lose your mind. All because of him. All because of how good he was to you. 

He knew you by heart, so when you rewarded him with a few yelps, he picked up the pace until the obscene sound of your joining echoed on the stone walls of your chambers.

He angled your hips and reached deeper even, pleasure building quickly and almost painfully at the base of his spine. You felt so good around his cock, he feared he might find his pleasure before you found yours.

And that, he could not allow.

Not once had you left his bed unsatisfied, and that day was no exception. He needed you to come. Now.

He let down your leg and you both groaned at the tightness. You cursed when his finger teased your clit. The hand holding your belly went to your neck instead and he squeezed gently. You gasped, your legs beginning to shake. 

“You like when I hold you tight, hm?” he asked in a ragged breath. You nodded.

When he had you silent, he knew he was doing good.

“You like it when I do all these things to you? When you have no choice but to take it?”

“Uhum” you nodded.

“Uhum?” he smugly echoed you, and you cried out, trashing against him.

He knew you liked to believe you were a lady in charge. It amused him when he heard you tell his nephews and nieces that you were the one holding the reins.

“I may not control you outside these walls… you may be Lady of Harrenhal… but in our bed, I’m your King,” he sneered in your ear, emphasizing the last word with a sharp thrust. You shuddered and clenched down on his cock so tight he groaned against your ear.

Pleasure wracked through you instantly. Aemond held you while your whole body shivered against his. Your walls strangled him so tight, it felt like a vice. Your head fell back against his shoulder, your jaw hanging open, forming a perfect O shape.

“You look exquisite when you fall apart, my love,” he breathed against your cheek, nearing his peak as well. “You are so good to me.” You whimpered helplessly, your nails digging in his forearms. “Only me.” For a moment, he believed he had you forget about the pain in your back. No discomfort, nothing. Just pleasure. Overwhelming, mind numbing, soul shattering pleasure. “Mine.”

And he fucked you through your orgasm. Your whimpers turned to wails as he went in and out, keeping his torturous pace. You groaned his name, your hands frantically reaching back for him, but he held you tight. You cursed profusely yet praised how good he made you feel. He snapped his hips a few more times, until you reached yet another release. 

“Aemond!” you screamed and just like that, he was gone, hit by a shattering climax. For a moment, he lost his vision. His mind went absolutely blank and air left his lungs. His whole body spasmed, head buried in your long hair, roaring his pleasure and spilling himself deep within you. 

He shivered, feeling your walls rippling around his sensitive cock.

He panted in your neck, nuzzling your sweaty flesh.

He inhaled deeply, close to being drunk on your scent.

He loved the smell of you in the morning. You smelled of love.

He kissed your cheek, your jaw, your neck, your hair.

He felt you trembling in his arms, squirming to detangle yourself from him.

He tightened his embrace.

“I’m not done,” he growled in your ear. 

You cried out as an answer, writhing against him as if you were trying to get away but he held you firmly. He knew you liked it.

He caught his breath for a moment, kissing your temple as you moaned in anticipation. He knew he could carry on. He wanted to carry on. He did not want it to be over yet.

Throbbing against your pulsing walls, he resumed his pounding while you desperately clawed at his arms. It only made him hold you tighter, his fingers circling your swollen clit as well.

He coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of you until you were an absolute mess. Even when he feared he was too intense, you surprised him by begging for more.

You were truly perfect.

The high pitch sounds you made were a symphony to his ears, like a reward for going through such a wretched day.

When your cries turned into sobs, he knew you had enough. He buried himself to the hilt and exploded, filling you again with his seed, sinking his teeth in your neck to muffle his own cry of pleasure.

You both needed a moment to recover. You startled when he wiped away the tears that fell on your cheeks. Even the slightest touch had you flinching. You liked it when he unleashed himself fully but seeing you almost broken afterwards worried him sometimes. You were quick to reassure him as your trembling hands reached for his and you kissed his fingers one by one.

Then his hand found its way back to your belly. He shifted but kept you impaled on his manhood, still not ready to lose the intimacy, unable to let go of you yet.

“Please, you have to let me rest, my love” you begged, shivers going down your spine as he twitched inside you.

"But you are so warm," he pleaded sleepily in your ear. 

"You want to sleep like this!?” you yelped, mildly shocked. He felt your slight panic as you tried to stay still, unequivocally overstimulated.

"I’d spend my life buried in that cunt," he answered truthfully, leaving open mouth kisses on your jaw. His fingers grazed your sensitive skin and you shivered terribly. 

"Sounds exhausting," you jested.

"Sounds like the last seven months,” he quipped. You laughed and he gripped your waist harshly, groaning at the sudden tightness when your muscles clenched on his softening cock. "Shhh sleep. ‘Tis almost morning anyway.”

Neither of you did, in fact, sleep.

Not even ten minutes had gone by that you lost every bit of the sanity left in you. Your walls pulsed at the cruel pressure and you started grinding on him shamelessly. So he resumed his sweet torture until the sun was up.

Until you were soaked with both your cum.

Until the feathered bed was definitely ruined.

Until you almost lost consciousness.

Until he truly lost himself in you.

1 day before

READER

At midday, the Queen fetched you. You did not show up to break fast with the rest of the family, nor did you join her for tea later on. You stayed in late, making up for the hours of sleep and energy Aemond robbed from you when he came back at dusk.

Queen Alicent implored her son to get up at once and go to his father to apologize for his behavior. Aemond downright refused. She acknowledged his struggle, but assured him that his father meant well. It was years late, but the King wanted to make amends now.

“Then why are you here instead of him?” Aemond asked, putting on his tunic carelessly.

“He… he is not as young as he used to be. Please, go to him. He loves you, Aemond. He loves you and he is proud of you. Just apologize for your outburst.”

“No.”

Then he stormed off and ordered the maids to draw you a bath. Even when his patience was tested, he thought of you. You saw sorrow in The Queen’s eyes and you promised you would try to speak to him about it, but that you would not insist if he refused again.

“You are the only person he listens to,” she said with a faint smile before she left.

If only that were true. Aemond was awfully headstrong, and visibly struggled to be back in the capital. You let him fuck you senseless until the sun was up because you wanted to, yes, but also because you felt like he needed it. He needed you. He loved to give you pleasure and get praised in return. That you noticed early on when you got intimate.

Your bodies joined for what felt like hours, leaving you the good kind of sore. However, when pleasure completely ebbed out from your every limb, you were immediately reminded of the downsides of carrying his heir. You should be grateful to the Mother for such a precious gift, but could not fathom doing it for two moons more.

Aemond called from the water chamber. He sat beside the tub and rubbed your neck while the oils and flowers worked their magic. He whispered sweet nothings in High Valyrian, his hands soothing your tensed back as you spoke back in the best of your capabilities.

He wanted to be with you. Alone with you. He wanted comfort and for years, you were the only one who provided him with it.

In the afternoon, Aemond spent time with his siblings as you sat in the gardens with your family. Your father and brother wished to speak of how you ran Harrenhal.

You learned that Master Sylvan sent reports by ravens every week. Turns out you did an outstanding job at training new boys and girls from the court. Well, not you. Aemond did. He reinforced the military strategy as well. As for you, you established great relations with the houses of the Riverlands and the people. You eased decades old tensions between some families and helped build a lasting peace in the land. You both ruled fairly, wisely and you inspired respect. Everything your father knew you would achieve.

Your heart burst with pride… yet something lingered in your mind. As good as you were at resolving conflicts between the people at Harrenhal, you wished you could do something about the strife at the very heart of this castle.

When it was time to attend Jacaerys and Helena’s engagement feast, you did not know how to brush the subject with Aemond. You waited all night, sitting by his side, thinking how you could sneak the subject in your conversations. Aemond never liked feasts to begin with. In King’s Landing, at least. But he had a good day so far… It was worth a try. Yet when you finally found the courage to talk to him, you saw the King leave the hall with your father and some knights in tow. 

Then you swore you saw the King leaned on your father for support as the door closed behind them. “My love… I think you need to speak with your father,” you spoke privately in his ear. “Now.”

He kissed your hand, but calmly replied: “I won’t. I only wished for one peaceful evening before we leave for Harrenhal in the morrow.” You nodded, but worried nonetheless when the Queen left as well.

At least, the feast was a success. Halaena was elated to dance with Jacaerys all night. Aegon was a little tipsy but pleased to have his brother by his side again. Daeron was relatively quiet but invited a dozen young ladies to dance with him. Very daring, you thought.

You dared to dance too. Harwin fetched you and you leaned on him while he unhurriedly swayed you around. Aemond even stayed for a few more cups of wine, strangely enjoying himself for once.

He persuaded Aegon to stop pursuing a married lady of the court when his gaze fell upon you… You were dancing with his nephew. Well, your nephew as well. Lucerys asked for a dance and you agreed.

“The King wants for us to make peace,” you reminded him kindly.

“Yes. It is easier said than done… Is this whole situation salvageable to begin with? Even if I formally apologize to Aemond, he will never recognize he has to apologize as well,” explained Lucerys who danced slowly to accommodate you.

“Lucerys… A dragon cannot be claimed out of legacy. You know that. Rhaena knows. Baela knows. Jacaerys knows. Dragons are not slaves. They choose their rider. Vaghar chose him. He didn’t do anything wrong,” you stressed, hoping he would understand.

“Rhaena never had the time to try!”

“She had ample time, nephew,” rebuked Aemond, appearing behind you and grabbing your hand resting on Lucery’s shoulder. “I won’t apologize for claiming a riderless dragon. Now please, leave my wife alone before you decide to carve one of her eyes out as well.” 

“Uncle Aemond—” began Lucerys, but Aemond stole you away already.

“Please don’t provoke them, nothing good will come of it,” you cautioned. “I’m not asking you to forget. I’m merely wishing for you to live without grudges eating away at you.”

“I know you feel the need to resolve this particular conflict because of your devotion to me, but do you hear yourself?” he spitted back startling you. “You are taking their side!”

“I’m on your side, Aemond. Always. You know that”, you huffed, pained he would ever think otherwise. “Now please excuse me, I’ll retire for the evening, I ache all over.”

AEMOND

Aemond stayed for one more cup of wine, silently seething in a corner. He knew you meant well, but years of resentment will do that to a man. When he cooled down an hour later, he went back to your chambers.

When he did not find you in your bed, he feared he angered you more than he thought. Then he heard noises coming from the adjacent water chamber. If she is still bathing at this hour, her back must be killing her, he thought.

Eye wide, he walked in on you shuddering, head thrown back against the edge of the tub, back arched with a hand between your legs, water threatening to spill everywhere.

It was a sight.

He instantly felt strained in his trousers, looking at you positively flushed and wanton.

Knowing he had nothing to do with your state of dishevelment, he made his displeasure known.

READER

“My love.”

“Seven hells!” you jumped. Water splashed everywhere on the floor and you stopped your movements at once.

"If I’m somehow lacking in this aspect of our marriage— which I know I’m not because you are obviously carrying my heir so soon after our union— I would very much like you to tell me," he teased, removing his tunic and the cotton shift he wore underneath.

"Pleasure eases the pain. You stayed late at dinner. A wife has to make do," you justified, making it sound like a reproach, but with a faint smile on your lips.

"You vowed to the old gods and the new that you are mine. That includes your pleasure," he clarified, kneeling beside the bath and plunging a hand underwater. His hand skimmed your leg, going higher and higher until he reached your cunt and picked up where you left off.

"You mean to tell me—” you gasped mid-sentence when his fingers parted your lips and found your clit. “—that not once you have pleasured yourself with your hand since you claimed me?"

"I have not,” he said, his fingers moving in and out of you, his thumb expertly teasing you. His lips grazed your cheek, his hot breath fanning your face. Your lips parted and you fought to keep your eyes open. 

“...I’m impressed, actually,” you quipped, between pants. “From what I’ve read, men usually d…” you did not finish your sentence. Aemond even stopped his ministrations, leaving you free falling as you were so close to the edge.

“...What on earth have you been reading?” he pressed curiously, resuming his movements in an agonizingly slow pace that had you lose your mind.

“Nothing,” you replied a little too quickly, now panting desperately. He looked at you incredulously. “...Well I may have stumbled upon Maester Merandys’ book on pleasure and martial duty once…”

"Have you, now?” he queried, curling his finger so he rubbed that spot deeper inside you, harder and faster. “I have also read it, as a matter of fact.”

Of course he did. You knew it the moment you read the words on the page. You thanked the gods that Aemond was an exemplary scholar and husband. Every book he read he mastered the subject. So when a Maester wrote a whole chapter on how pleasuring women effectively lead to a happier marriage, he read avidly… and never left your bed without making absolutely sure you reached your peak three times. At the very least.

He bent down until his hair dipped in the water. He swallowed your cries as your release barreled through you with ferocity, hitting you like lightning yet lingering long after, enough to have you shamefully moaning. Your cries echoed on the stone walls. Water splashed on the floor as you writhed horribly, gripping his arm as he fucked you through it with his fingers still. 

Aemond was very thorough and it was a curse as well as a blessing.

After a moment, he delicately pulled his hand, caressed your belly and kissed your forehead. “Come.” He helped you stand, gripping you firmly as you got out of the tub, knowing he had your legs feel like jelly.

He dried your hair with a cloth, your curls already forming. When you reached the bed, he kissed you tenderly. “I apologize for earlier. I know you mean well,” he spoke in a mumble.

“It’s alright, I understand,” you answered while he walked you backwards until the back of your legs bumped on the bed.

“Do you want my fingers again?” he murmured, brushing your inner thigh with his hand. “My mouth, mayhaps?” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Or my cock?” He pressed his body to yours and you felt his manhood, hard and ready in the confines of his trousers.

You were on fire, your body humming with need.

“You know what I want,” you crooned, laying down on the edge of the bed, your legs parted and hanging down the side. As much as you loved the child in your womb, some positions became quite tedious as your belly grew. You wished you could feel all of him on top of you but that would be for another time.

He propped your hips up with a cushion and gave you exactly what you wanted. Your breasts bounced with each thrust and his gaze kept darting from them to your face. His hands held your thighs, your hips, your breasts, your belly, any part of your body he could reach. You stiffen, your toes curling,  your hands fisting the sheets and your head so far back he could only see the column of your neck. 

Aemond fucked like he fought. With fiery passion, taking no prisoners.

He had you come multiple times. Again.

Enough to scramble your brain. Again.

He almost made you forget you were cross with him. Almost.

Your head rested on his arm. He traced figures on your shoulder, the pads of his fingers always lingering on the small scars scattered here and there from years of sword training with him. Oh how you missed your morning routine.

He talked of his mother. He spoke of how she tried to reason with him over tea during the afternoon, saying that even she made peace with the King's decisions. The crowned Princes are Targaryens, their dragon eggs hatched, and this and that.

After a moment, he fell silent. You chose your words carefully.

“People wouldn’t say a word if your sister were a man. Her children have as much Targaryen blood as you, Aemond… I don’t think this is about the line of succession… You are still angry about your eye. Punishing your father or Lucerys will never bring it back… it only brings you anger and frustrations. I love you, but I beseech you… Stop fighting, my love.” 

“Seeing you defend them so vehemently makes me want to burn this castle. You are supposed to be on my side. You are my wife,” he protested again, stopping his caresses. You felt his temper rising, but could not bring yourself to calm him down as you usually did.

“I am your wife. I am on your side. But there cannot be sides for this. Your father wants the family to put their differences aside. You are my husband, but he is my King. I have to do as he commands,” you explained. “Do you see the position you put me in?”

He sighed, rubbing his scarred cheek with desperate hands. “Your King was more of a father to them than he ever was to me. They get away with everything. And now? They have the crown! The Throne, Dragonstone, Driftmark… They are glorified, praised even, everything is handed to them on a silver platter while I have nothing.”

It felt like plunging in an icy lake.

Your breath shallowed as his words sinked in. For a moment a vice squeezed your heart in your chest. You felt the ache all the way to your belly, as if the child felt it too.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Tears pricked your eyes, your stomach turned and you tasted acid in your mouth. You tried to keep your calm but your nerves got the better of you. 

“You have the Riverlands,” you retorted in a surprisingly calm voice as resentment simmered in your veins. “…You have Harrenhal… a court that respects you, vast green lands to roam as you please… You have an army and knights who look up to you… You have a dragon, ‘the largest in the world’ as you remind us all so often…” Your voice started shaking and his expression changed. Color drained from his face as he realized what you meant. “You have me,” you bemoaned, a sob catching in your throat. “So what you are saying is that… all this means nothing to you?”

Choking back tears, you stood up and went to sit in front of your looking glass.

“That is not what I meant—”

 “I would like to sleep alone tonight,” you said in a cold voice. You avoided his stare, brushing carelessly the ends of your tangled curly hair. He stood behind you for a few seconds. You waited for his excuses. You were expecting explanations, reassurance, something, anything.

Nothing could have prepared you for the pain you felt when he kept silent and left. Your heart broke in a million pieces as the wooden door closed behind him with a bang.

For the first time since your adventures in the Stormlands, Aemond did not share your bed.

10 hours before

READER

Your maid woke you up early. You were exhausted and your heart ached as much as your back. You spent the night tossing and turning, no longer used to sleeping alone. You did not have time to bathe either for the whole family was called to the throne room. Now you were cranky, stressed and frustrated as well. 

“An urgent meeting, my lady,” clarified Maeva, emerging from your dressing room holding your favorite blue silk gown with elaborate silver embroideries on the skirt and clasps shaped like flowers. Her eyes darted around the room, surprised to find you alone. You sighed. 

Not long after, you stood beside Helaena as the lords and ladies of the court gathered around the throne. You felt Aemond approaching, his amber and sandalwood scent always giving him away. He was by your side but refrained from holding your hand as he usually did. You were no longer cross, but appreciated he respected your boundaries after the words you spoke.

“We received a raven from Storm’s End,” announced the King. “Lord Boros of House Baratheon heard of Jacaerys and Helaena’s betrothal and feels it is a betrayal, citing past unfruitful negotiations with him. It was once understood that our houses were to join with Prince Aemond marrying one of his daughters.” The whole family turned around to look at your Prince. You grabbed his hand instantly, knowing he hated when that many people stared. “Furthermore, Lord Boros now has an alliance with the Reach since his daughter Maris married Luthor Tyrell of Highgarden.” At the mention of your former betrothed, Aemond laced his fingers to yours, soothingly stroking your skin with his thumb. 

“There is more,” declared your father the Hand, “Lord Boros claims he could stop merchant boats from sailing to King’s Landing if the crown does not offer him some sort of compensation. He seems to believe he could convince the Reach to stop supplying King’s Landing with their grain, meat and fresh food as well.”

“This is preposterous,” thundered Lord Corlys. A brouhaha erupted over your father’s word. People afraid of a siege, knights speaking of doubling the guards at every gates and Prince Daemon snarling he could take down the lord before dinner if he left now with Caraxes and a few gold cloaks.

“Your grace, I propose we send a son from each house to speak to Lord Boros at once. We need to present a united front,” your father suggested wisely.

“I’ll go,” declared Jacaerys in a solemn tone.

“You can’t,” replied Princess Rhaenyra. “You are heir to the Iron Throne after me. We can’t risk it.”

“Prince Lucerys will go,” suggested Prince Daemon. “He is a crowned Prince too, and heir to the Driftwood throne. We need to remind Lord Boros that if he ever plans to rise against the King, he is also rising against Old Town, Harrenhal, Dragonstone, Driftmark and the North as well.” 

They all turned to Aegon who stumbled upon his own feet, eyes wide. He was apparently fetched from an obscure establishment on the street of silk at dawn.

“I drank too much, I can’t go. I’ll fall off Sunfyre.”

“I’ll go,” Aemond volunteered. He looked passive, but you had a bad feeling. He avoided your intense stare as the brouhaha resumed. He kissed your hand and went to his brother before you could say a single word.

AEMOND

Aegon looked at Aemond, both sporting a grave face. “I believe it’s time…” Aemond uttered, resolute but somehow still wishing for his older brother’s approval. “I might…”

“Yes,” Aegon acquiesced, sobering up almost instantly. “Do it. Don’t hesitate.”

Aemond nodded then went back to you. He spent the previous night wallowing in despair, alone, in his old chambers. His father’s carelessness and his nephew's arrogance clouded his judgment. That and the damn eyepatch had him in a tizzy. He used words that were too strong, he expressed himself badly and he hurt you. Again. Sometimes, he wondered if he was better off when he kept silent more.

He reached for your hand once more and apologized sincerely.

“I did not mean you were nothing,” he explained. “You are, in fact, everything.”

Your traits soften as he spoke. A colossal weight lifted from his shoulder when you forgave him and said that you knew he did not mean it. You apologized too and blamed the little dragon growing in you for giving you the temper of one. Even now, your fingers tightened on your belly while the child kept kicking you, testing your limits. 

READER

You lined up on the beach, bidding the Princes a safe journey. They could very well prevent a war today. You tried to smile as you gave your husband a few words of encouragement and requested he be careful since the weather is always unpredictable in the Stormlands.

“Don’t I know it,” he answered, a hand on your cheek. He kissed you passionately and you fought to keep a straight face.

“Just… please, don’t do anything rash,” you implored.

They took flight together and you prayed for an uneventful encounter with Lord Boros. When they were far enough, you finally let your mask fall and clanged to your maid as if she was a crutch.

“Maeva…would you escort me to my room and fetch the maester?” you groaned, the pains getting stronger.

It was two moons too early, but your child was definitely coming.

As you got away, you heard the commotion behind you. You first heard a loud thud. Then Queen Alicent screamed for help. Prince Daemon shoved guards aside to get through. Princess Rhaenyra followed closely behind. You heard the distinct clanking of the gold armor of every guard as they rushed to their King…

6 hours before

AEMOND

Did the weather ever relent in the Stormlands, Aemond wondered as he once again flew in atrocious conditions, rain battering at his face. After a few hours of flight, he found himself in Lord Boros’s gloomy throne room with Lucerys at his side. He put his personal feelings aside as they both tried to reason with the stubborn Lord. 

“You were supposed to marry my Ellyn,” Lord Boros barked at Aemond, pointing at one of his frightened daughters standing beside him. He sat on his throne like he was a King.

Ludicrous.

“I simply found alliances elsewhere,” added Boros.

“Threatening the crown with rebellion is not wise, my lord,” threatened Lucerys.

Aemond looked at his nephew, unreservedly horrified. Threats? Seriously? Menacing Lord Boros was not very wise as well. What was he thinking? Had he not studied basic conversational skills?

Pathetic.

“We solely ask for a temporary truce between…”

And there was the heir to Driftmark. Threatening Boros, then almost begging him to stop his impending siege on King’s Landing.

Ridiculous. 

Aemond was the eloquent one. It was he who studied philosophy, history, warfare and politics. He was Lord of Harrenhal and he was good at it.

“So what do you have to offer? You will marry one of my daughters, boy?” asked Boros, laughing outrageously. “You are so young, you probably still suck at your mother’s tit—”

“If I may, my Lord,” interjected Aemond. Lord Boros' eyes went from Lucerys to Aemond, disdain clear on his face. Even if Aemond did not bear any sentiment toward his sister Rhaenyra, he would not have a lesser lord speak of a Targaryen in that manner. Not to mention that Lucerys’s ineptitude was about to start a damn war. “My brother Aegon, the King’s first born son is looking for a bride. If you were to agree to this union with one of your daughters, they would be heir to the Hightower family seat in Oldtown. They would have vast fertile lands, an army, a fleet, a dragon and dragon eggs for all children that the union may produce. They would also have the King’s ear.”

Lord Boros seemed reluctant, but keened at the mention of dragon eggs and proximity to the King. Aemond spoke and Lord Boros listened. Lucerys stayed silent for the rest of the negotiations. He even looked at Aemond with… was it admiration? Aemond was not sure.

5 hours before

AEMOND

They both exited the castle in silence. Aemond, however, was burning inside. He was outraged that Lucerys almost threw them into a war for his lack of political skills. He suddenly imagined you giving birth while fire rained on the castle during a siege and fury coursed through his veins. Lucerys was the future heir of Driftmark and could not simply hold a conversation with a lord.

Disgraceful. 

“All hail the lord of Driftmark. Trying to have us killed when we were supposed to be negotiating for peace,” drawled Aemond loudly as they reached Vaghar and Arrax on the other side of the castle.

“I’m not as experienced as you, uncle. I feel no shame in admitting it,” answered his nephew who adjusted his hood in the pouring rain. 

“You almost started a war, you inarticulate idiot!” Aemond shouted, fiddling with the pommel of his sword. “I should have known, you are usually the one stupidly starting conflicts.” The eyepatch dug in the ridges of his scar and it put him even more on edge.

“I’m not fighting with you, uncle,” argued Lucerys. “I promised my mother I wouldn’t do anything foolish.” 

“You already took my eye. I would call that foolish enough,” scowled Aemond, giving into his anger. 

Lucerys turned to go to Arrax but stopped when he heard a loud clang of metal on the rocks behind him. Aemond had thrown a knife at his feet. 

“One on one,” Aemond dared him, taking out another knife. “Much more even than four against one, don’t you agree?”

“I’m not fighting with you,” repeated Lucerys, suddenly frightened. He climbed on his dragon and flew away in the blink of an eye.

Aemond scrambled for his knife and mounted Vaghar as fast as he could. “Jikagon tolī zirȳla”. Chase him.

He flew high, knowing Lucerys was close beneath. He hid in the dark clouds and got closer, rain soaking him to the bones. Out of thin air, Vaghar soared and almost devoured Arrax, sending both the small dragon and its rider in a panic. The little dragon plunged down with its rider and flew through cliffs and ravines bordering the coast of the Stormlands in order to hide from the monstrous beast that was Vaghar.

Aemond had to admit it… It felt good. He laughed almost maniacally, closing his eye and letting the rain fall on his face as Vaghar observed the coast. “Jemēla gēlȳni enkā, Taobus!” You owe a dept, boy! 

He could barely see anything in the downpour. He surveyed the beach but there was no sign of them whatsoever. Suddenly, Arrax came from above and spewed fire on Vaghar, missing Aemond by a thread.

“Daor, Arrax! Yne dohaerās!” No, Arrax! Serve me!

But it was too late. Defending her rider, Vaghar roared loud enough to crumble the nearby cliffs and started chasing the smaller dragon. She did not listen to Aemond either when he panicked, pulled on the reins and shouted at her to stop the chase at once.

Vaghar speeded and snapped her mighty jaw so close to Arrax’s tail that the little dragon jerked and threw his rider off his saddle. 

Arrax flew away while Lucerys fell in the raging sea.

Eye wide, Aemond frantically scoured the waters of Shipbreaker Bay. The rain was heavy and made it almost impossible to locate the Prince… if there was something left to locate. Now that Vaghar had calmed down, he circled the area. Utterly mortified.

He realized he was presented with a choice. Revenge was technically in his grasp. Help the crowned Prince or… let him drown. He could even blame it on the weather.

Years of anger coursing through his veins.

Years of living in the shadow of his older sister with no justice served for his eye.

Years of enduring the snarks, the laughter and the wary looks.

Years of pining for the woman he loved when he could have had her all along.

Years of telling everyone his scar just felt numb when sometimes he woke in the middle of the night with lancing pain so strong it made him want to die…

The pain made him say things… do things… It was better now that he rarely wore his eyepatch. They all thought he naturally had a nasty temper, and he played along. It was better than having everyone’s pity on top of their disgust when they looked at him.

Then he thought of you and how terribly empathetic you were. If you knew about the pain… it would kill you. He decided a long time ago that he would spare you that.

Then Aemond spotted Lucerys.

His nephew was alive, not far from the coast, desperately trying to swim through the crashing waves.

It felt like an eternity when in truth, Aemond’s pondering lasted a few seconds. Deep down, Aemond was not the scary monster the court made him out to be. He was not a cold blooded killer. He remembered who he was with you. He remembered his life at Harrenhal. He remembered how happy he was these past moons… He was a scholar. He was a soldier. He was a lover. He was a lemon cake stealer, even. He was going to be a father…

But he was not a murderer.

If the Prince died in these waters today, there would be war. No doubt that Rhaenyra and Daemon would swoop down Harrenhal and melt what was left of the castle with their dragons.

Aemond ordered Vaghar to land in the water. He instructed her to extend a wing so Lucerys could cling onto it until they reached the coast.

The crowned Prince kneeled in the sand, retching and catching his breath. Aemond climbed down the net on the side of Vaghar and slowly walked to him. Lucerys looked up, unsure of his faith but he spoke anyway.

“You had no… no reason to save me… but I’m grateful that you did,” he managed to say.

“Hm…” simply replied Aemond, looking at the horizon. The sun started to pierce the heavy clouds. Lucerys sought to stand but was exhausted. Aemond observed him as he abdicated and sat in the sand.

“…I’m sorry for your eye, Aemond,” Lucerys admitted sincerely. “If I could give it back to you, I would. With time, it became more and more difficult to mend our differences. I cannot imagine what life has been like for you, but know that I think about what I did everyday and how I caused our two families to split. You are right, we are strong boys. But we are Rhaenyra Targaryen’s boys as well. We are your wife’s nephews too.”

Aemond remembered your words. How women were held by questionable standards when men could sire tens of bastards without anyone batting an eyelash. How the knights always underestimated you when you came to train with the sword. How Luthor Tyrell all but treated you like a prized broodmare  when you were destined to be one of the grandest ladies of the realm.

Aemond did not even hate his sister Rhaenyra… but he hated how his father only seemed to care about her and excused all her mistakes. The crowned Princes were indeed Targaryens. That, Aemond accepted by now. But no justice after he was unfairly attacked? No consequences whatsoever for his assailant? That was what hurt Aemond the most.

“I defended my brother, that I will never grieve over. I thought you would kill him. But we were children. Stupid children, might I even say. I wished we could leave the past in the past and work on the future instead. You at Harrenhal. Aeg—”

“Y/n at Harrenhal,” immediately corrected Aemond. “I’m her lord consort.”

“You rule as equal, though,” Lucerys pointed out. “Y/n and you at Harrenhal. Aegon at Oldtown. Me at Driftmark. Joffrey at Dragonstone. Daeron at Winterfell, and Jacaerys and Halaena in King’s Landing. …Think of what we could achieve together.”

True to himself, Aemond was silent.

“Do you forgive me?” Lucerys ultimately asked.

The raging storm started to clear and the noise from the rain eased. Arrax appeared and landed at the other end of the beach, as far as possible from Vaghar. Aemond exhaled… and extended his hand to help Lucerys get up on his feet.

“…I’m tired of being angry all the time,” Aemond answered, taking off his damn itching eyepatch and throwing it as far as he could in Shipbreaker Bay.

Surprisingly, Lucerys looked at his eye instead of the sapphire when he spoke once more.

“…but do you forgive me?”

“I’m not ready to say the words, but I’m done fighting,” Aemond sighed.

2 hours before

AEMOND

Aemond got back to King’s landing first, Lucerys not far behind. Arrax was a small dragon, and not as fast and powerful as Vaghar afterall. His own guards from Harrenhal waited for him at the gates. One of the knights he trained with daily stepped forward.

“My lord, please go to Lady Strong at once. The child is coming.”

Aemond cursed every single step and hallway that separated him from you. Your chambers were so far from the mud gate, it gave him enough time to start panicking again.

It was too soon.

You had two moons left before the child was supposed to be born. He had read everything he could get his hands on about birth. You thought he was overly fussing with you, but he read absolute horrors in those books. Women disregarded and butchered to save the child’s life; labor lasting days with them wailing in agony; mothers appearing absolutely fine then having convulsions and excruciating headaches before they stopped breathing altogether. You even confided in him how your own mother died giving birth alone.

He tried to calm himself down but the day took its toll on him. He nearly killed Lucerys in his wrath. He accused his nephew of almost starting a war then went on to do the same by chasing him with Vaghar. He went close to proving to the realm that he was indeed the monster they thought he was. And now you were giving birth alone while he acted like a complete fool.

Never again.

Aemond nearly broke down the door to your chambers. When his eye fell on your bed, what he found truly horrified him. Blood. Blood everywhere. On your bed. On your nightgown. On your legs. Smothered on your arms as well. Your arms that… held onto a small bundle of cloth, rocking slightly from side to side as you hummed tenderly.

“ARE YOU ALRIGHT?” he bellowed, eye shining with unshed tears.

“Shhh Aemond, seven hells. She just fell asleep!” you chided him in a low voice.

Aemond let out a gasp of relief. He looked down for a moment, fighting the tears that threatened to fall on his cheeks, then rushed to your side. Usually, when you swore like a bravosi sealord, you were all right. “She?”

“She, yes. She is small but healthy,” you murmured, looking at him with loving eyes.

“How long ago?” he asked, as if it mattered now that everything was over.

“Two hours maybe. It went very fast. She just stopped screaming,” you turned to the little bundle of joy in your arms. “You have your father’s temper, don’t you?”

Aemond winced at your playful jab at his temper. He looked at his beautiful baby girl, chasing away any thoughts of what happened in the Stormlands.

Lucerys was unarmed. No war was on the way. You were alive and so was his little girl.

He could not possibly be raising her like this, with fire burning inside. He wanted to teach her High Valyrian. He wanted to fly around the realm on dragonback with her. He wanted her to learn swordplay and combat strategy. 

He stripped from his knife, sword and boots. He climbed in the bed beside you and sat against the headboard, knees propped up to cradle the baby on his legs. He took one small hand in his, looking for missing fingernails or something. But the child was perfect. He brushed the hair on her head. A head of silvery white locks. “She has your curls.”

You chuckled. “Yours as well,” you quipped, your hand pulling on a strand of his hair wavy from the rain. You loved his wavy hair.

He turned his face to you. “Were you alone? Where is everyone?”

“I don’t know. I had the maids and Maester Orwyle with me. I was okay,” you swore.

Where was Maester Mellos? Orwyle was only an Archmaester. He was only in the capital if something happened to old Mellos. Where was your father? You brother? Hells, even Helaena would have come to your bedside too.

“Do you need anything?” he wondered. “I’m fairly good at nicking lemon cakes from the kitchens.”

“I want to bathe and sleep, to be honest,” you confessed with half-lidded eyes. Your maid Maeva approached you, but Aemond insisted on doing it himself. She changed the sheets instead. 

Aemond handed your sleeping daughter to your wet nurse and walked you to the bath. He washed your hair, massaged your back and kissed the top of your head. You enjoyed his loving touch as he helped you to your nightgown, brushed your hair and tucked you into bed. He did it all in silence, but he knew you felt the love and devotion emanating from his every pore.

“How did it go with Lord Boros?” you promptly asked, reminding him of his eventful day.

“It went… Well there will be no war,” he confirmed, but he saw the curiosity in your eyes. “I’ll tell you in the morning. Now rest. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Ēdrugon isse īlva bed bisa bantis,” you said sleepily, grabbing his hand. Sleep in our bed tonight.

“Yes, my love. Emā ñuha bantior, daor nārhēdegon.” You claimed my nights, remember.

1 hour before

AEMOND

Now that he knew you were well, Aemond had only one thing in mind: getting rid of his wet clothes. He had to be presentable before he spoke to his father, the hand and Aegon at the very least… and to brave whatever may come to him when Lucerys would tell Rhaenyra and Daemon what transpired in the Stormlands. He should be back by now.

Although, when he got out of your chambers, Aegon waited for him in the corridor. Strangely sober. Before Aemond could ask what he was doing there, Aegon waved a hand, an invitation to follow him.

“Come. It’s father.”

When they entered the royal chambers, Aemond found his mother praying in front of the giant seven pointed star she had installed near the bed. As soon as she saw him, she hugged him with a strength he did not know her. “It’s his heart,” she cried. “It beats too faintly. It’s been like that for a week now, we had to move fast to discuss the line of succession and… oh please go to him, Aemond. Speak with him before it’s too late, I beg you.”

Unsure, Aemond joined the others. His siblings were all sitting around the bed, including Rhaenyra. Daemon was there, Aemond’s nephews and nieces as well. Lucerys stood beside his brothers, completely drenched too. Aemond stared at him briefly, assessing the situation. Lucerys shook his head. 

They don’t know yet.

When he met Aegon’s stare again, Aemond nodded slightly. Aegon nodded back, confirming he understood his fate was sealed in Storm’s End.

Aemond came to his father’s side, still shook at the news that he was dying and kept it a secret. He was conscious, but his ragged breath was alarming.

“Aemond, my son,” he wheezed. Aemond spoke as an emissary would.

“Father, we negotiated an allianc—” 

“He,” corrected Lucerys. “He negotiated an alliance.”

Aemond looked at him attentively. Lucerys nodded, urging him to continue. “…I negotiated an alliance with Lord Boros to make the kingdom stronger. Aegon’s future is secured in Old Town with Ellyn Baratheon at his side. There will be no war, no siege on King’s Landing and no blockade in the Narrow Sea.”

There was a collective sigh of relief. “That is… w…wonderful news, Aemond,” the King whispered. “I knew you were… the best man for the job. You’ve become… a … fine young lord.”

Aemond was silent, eye wide, unsure if he heard correctly.

“Out of all my children… you were the diligent one. Always studying… always learning… eager to prove himself a true Targaryen… And now, you saved us from a war… I’m so proud of what you have become.”

Aemond looked at his mother in disbelief, shocked at the words he heard. She had a faint smile.

“You were right… I have been a poor father to you… I only wished I had more time to… make things right… To apologize properly… meanwhile, I… I have something for you.”

The King gestured to his bedside table. Aemond gazed around but did not see what he could possibly be looking for. Daemon approached and grabbed the long sword leaning on the wall.

He unsheathed it and the Valyrian steel glimmered in the faint light from the sunset. Aemond took the precious sword in his hand and admired the handiwork.

“I give you Blackfyre, Aemond… a fine sword for a fine lord and warrior… you are definitely worthy of this sword… know that I never wanted you… to feel like you did not matter…”

Aemond’s vision started to blur. He blinked quickly, trying to gain some composure while listening to his father’s harsh breath. 

He was a father too now. He read countless books on the subject. He was bound to make mistakes as well. He will probably lose his mind when little lords will try to woo his daughter with lemon cakes, mainly because that was what he did. He knew he could not go forth if he still clung on grudges like these. Then and there, Aemond made the silent promise of being everything his little girl needed him to be.

And it began with forgiveness.

“I accept your apology, father,” Aemond breathed faintly. He heard his mother sob somewhere behind him. “I forgive you… and you are the first to know that my wife just gave birth to a healthy baby girl.”

“Oh… a granddaughter… I am… delighted…”

And with these few words, a faint smile curling his lips, the King drew his last breath. On the third day of the third moon of 129 AC, King Viserys, first of his name, died in his bed. His heart stopped beating, leaving his entire family, and the realm, in grief.

And here he was...

Standing between his mother and sister beside an empty Throne as Grand Maester Mellos announced the death of his father to the people of the court. For a second, he envied you. He instructed the guards to let you sleep. You needed rest, not to climb up so many stairs.

Lucerys joined his brothers amidst the announcement. He hurried to his chambers to change from his wet clothes. Wise.

Aemond’s mother went to the other side of the throne, to Rhaenyra. They both embraced and cried in each other’s arms. Jacaerys also changed sides to go to Helaena. He offered her his hand. She took it and let him kiss her cheek. 

Suddenly, both sides of the family blurred into one. Aegon and Jacaerys shook hands. Daeron went to Joffrey and Baela. Rhaena came to Aemond, bowed her head and extended her hand to him. He took it and they silently ended their quarrel.

In a way, it was sad that it took the death of the King to unite both sides of the family at last. They all comforted each other until Daemon approached Rhaenyra, holding in his hand his brother’s golden crown.

Aemond’s sister went to sit on the Iron Throne and Daemon crowned her Queen Rhaenyra, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Daemon kneeled first, and the people of the court bent the knee subsequently, pledging fealty and allegiance to their new Queen.

While the people celebrated, the tall doors opened once more.

READER

Holding your baby girl in your arms, your brother helped you walk up to the royal family.

“Aemond,” you breathed as you reached him and hugged him with one arm, your daughter peacefully cooing in the other. “Seriously, my love? ‘Let her sleep’?” 

“You need rest,” he explained, eye glistening.

“Your father and my King died. I’ll rest after. I’m a strong lady, you know that.”

“All too well, I’m afraid,” he abdicated, stroking the white locks on his little girl’s head.

“Well, we are strong as well, but not as strong as you y/n. You should indeed rest,” jested Jacaerys, impressed that you would climb all those steps to join them.

Aemond’s mother found the energy to come and congratulate you. She wanted to hold her first grandchild and you let her. She went to Prin— Queen Rhaenyra and they both admired the deep purple of her eyes. With your arms free, you hugged Aemond properly. He inhaled the scent of your hair and tightened his embrace around your tender waist. You were uncomfortable, but holding him was more important to you. Especially when you felt his tears dampening your silk shift.

He only let you go only when Lucerys approached to have a word. For a minute, you thought you were dreaming when Aemond thanked him for not telling Rhaenyra and Daemon about the chase in the stormlands. 

A chase? What chase?

“I told them you went ahead while Arrax struggled in the weather. They are angry because you came back without me and they imagined all sorts of things… I told them that you would never harm me.”

“When it came to it… I couldn’t.”

What?!, you thought, eyebrows raised to your hairline.

“At the risk of repeating myself, I apologize. For everything,” reiterated the crowned Prince.

“...I accept your apology, nephew,” absolved Aemond.

You had never been so confused in your entire life.

AEMOND

Aemond was unsure how he felt about losing his father, especially after the kind words he spoke in the end, but he knew that the time came to leave the past behind. He needed to make the future a better place. For everyone.

Lucerys bowed his head and took his leave.

“What happened in the Stormlands?” you inquired, worrying.

“I’ll tell you later, let’s get back to your chambers,” replied Aemond, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“No, I want to know now,” you insisted.

“There was a storm, you see. We had to take shelter at an inn, with only one bed—”

“Aemond!” you chastised, refusing to move until he answered.

“What a temper, you have, my lady Strong. I’m afraid I’m a terrible influence,” he teased, kissing you before you could curse at him.

When you went to fetch your daughter, the rest of the royal family offered their congratulations. You went to bend the knee to your Queen but she immediately grabbed you, saying you did not need to in your condition. You always liked Queen Rhaenyra, even if you never spent much time with her when you were younger.

As you looked at the entire family, you smiled knowing the bridges had been mended.

12 moons later

READER

You stood on top of the castle walls, shivering… but not because of the cold. In fact, a warm wind blew in your curly hair as you glanced down at the people of the court walking in the inner yard and entering Harrenhal. While they could only see their Lady surveying the castle grounds from that angle, no one could in fact imagine that your Prince was on his knees, wedged between the wall and you.

“Aemond, please,” you pleaded, closing your eyes as if it would give you strength, one of your hands messing his not-so-perfect hair now.

“Hm?” you heard, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine, making you gasp out loud.

Of course he chose this moment to keep silent. You could only pray you were perched high enough so the lord and ladies could not see the faces you made as Aemond thoroughly ravaged you with his tongue and fingers.

“We have to join the p—people,” you shuddered, the pace of his fingers quickening. “...they are wa— wa—waitin—oh gods!” you stammered, out of breath as immense pleasure hit you all at once. You collapsed on the low wall, muffling your cries in the sleeve of your dress as your orgasm ripped through you, destroying in its wake every last ounce of control you futilely clinged onto.

Aemond could not care less that you crushed him against the stone wall. He held you tight and kept stroking you with his fingers at an excruciating pace, making sure you lost every bit of your sanity as well. Your whole body shivering, your first orgasm quickly blended into a second one.

A bigger one, looming in like a tidal wave. One you could feel coming, long and slow, thoroughly engulfing you until you had no choice but to weigh it out. It crashed into you hard. It was devastating. Your jaw hanging, you could no longer produce any sound. You felt it in your whole body this time… and it kept going, and going, and going. It was like you were stuck in an unending cycle of pleasure.

If it were not for his strong embrace, you would have collapsed on the rampart. You felt light headed and started to lose consciousness. Only then did Aemond slowed down his assault on your cunt and peppered your thighs with kisses and small bites. 

“If you ever do this again… no, when, when you do this again… please do it in our bed. I can’t be fainting in front of our people,” you whimpered.

He did not answer but he pulled on your hands to have you sit on his lap instead, your dress pooling around the both of you.

“Please, my love, we have to go inside, they will look for us!”

“One more. Give me one more,” he insisted, sitting against the wall, rummaging through the many layers of your skirt to free his manhood from his trousers. “I want to see your face.” He notched his cock between your legs and pushed your thighs down until you swallowed him whole, hard and fast.

He groaned as you cried out. He wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you arched and flush against his chest. He pumped up into your core and you luxuriated in every second of it.

“Aemond!”, a strangled cry.

“Take it,” he growled.

Fully impaled on him, you felt your orgasm build deep and fast. Your fingers dug into his shoulders and your head tipped back on a low moan. His lips brushed your shoulder and kissed the little scars you had here and there. In return, you kissed his scarred cheek like your life depended on it. Your arms went around his shoulder as you sinked into each other, both chasing your releases. 

You tightened around his cock and he whimpered.

“Come.” His thrusting got faster and you wailed in his ear.

“Come, my love.” Your vision blurred, tears springing to your eyes.

“Come now.” He forced you to look at him as you screamed.

The coil in your stomach snapped abruptly, your orgasm having you practically convulsing. You collapsed against him. He let go of your head and you shoved your face in his long silvery hair, sobbing against his shoulder. He slammed up with his hips, fucking you mercilessly through it, your face twisted in pleasurable agony gave him the final push he needed. He buried himself to the hilt and cried out his own release. His warm cum filled you, dripping out and down on his thighs.

Your knees were ruined. You felt the pain more and more as pleasure left your trembling core. You whined in his arms when he slipped out of you. He cupped your face with both hands to keep you on his lap a little longer. “Look at me again.”

So you did. The midday sun hit his sapphire and hundreds of little blue lights danced around you. He had so much love in his eye it made you smile.

He pressed his lips to yours one last time. Afterall, Aemond and you had to get back inside the castle. The festivities would begin shortly. 

Aemond helped you stand up and you walked to the great hall. You avoided certain hallways for you feared he would drag you into one of his favorite dark alcoves to make an even bigger mess out of you. After nearly two years of marriage, he was as insatiable as the first day he had you.

A few hours had gone by since you summoned the lords and ladies to the great hall. Your brother and other knights arrived, followed by the entirety of the royal family. Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon lead the way. 

Aemond joined his brothers and sister. Aegon smirked at the state of Aemond’s hair but did not comment on it. The Queen Mother, however, came quickly to brush it with her fingers, scolding her son for his impropriety.

Now that was your fault. You have been a terrible influence for years now.

Dangling somewhere between pride and elation, Aemond held his head high. Without his eyepatch on, he did not hear laughs and jeers for once. Even if he did, nothing could put a damper on this day. 

In the end, he did confide in you that his scar hurt sometimes. You were pained at the revelation but urged him to try the same oils and flowers you used when you carried your first child.

So he did. And it worked.

He was a changed man. What you thought was a bad temper was him being on edge every time his scar hurt. Now that he discarded his eyepatch once and for all, he found himself nearly free of pain and able to enjoy life as he should.

You hooked an arm through his and sneaked a peek at the rest of the royal family, gathered on the other side of the room. Queen Rhaenyra stood beside Prince Daemon who held in his arms their latest daughter Princess Visenya. The Dowager Queen Alicent had your daughter perched on her hip, wishing to introduce her to her baby cousin. 

To your surprise, Prince Aegon and Ellyn Baratheon fell in love. Just like Aemond, Aegon’s life changed for the better when he left King’s Landing to live in Old Town with his wife. He sobered up and Ellyn gave birth not three moons before to twin sons. 

Prince Jacaerys laughed with his wife, Princess Helaena, who was expecting their first child in less than a moon. His younger brothers, Prince Lucerys and Joffrey, stood beside their betrothed Lady Baela and Rhaena. They will marry in the upcoming year. While some quietly exchanged some words with each other, they all had something in common…

…they had their eyes set on Aemond and you.

Though, it was no surprise why. Lords and ladies as well as knights flooded the throne room. You invited them all to celebrate your daughter’s first name day. But that was not all…

Maester Sylvan walked to the front of the dais and cleared his throat. “Even though it is Lady Alaena Targaryen’s first name day, we are gathered here today in great delight, for any day the Mother is blessing us with a life is a joyful day.” Aemond’s mother rushed to your side, firmly holding your laughing daughter in her arms. She stared at you both with anticipation. “Lady Y/n Strong and Prince Aemond are expecting their second child and heir in six moons from this day!” the Maester announced and the hall erupted in cheers.

Still, you were half listening. Maester Sylvan’s words almost felt like distant noises. You had one of those moments where you realized how far you had come and how wonderfully happy you were.

After the birth of your daughter— and as a sign of good will— Princess Rhaenyra gifted you a dragon egg. It hatched three months after it was placed in the cradle. Since then, Vaghar presented you with a fresh clutch of eggs too. Enough for your second child and Aegon’s twins.

Aemond had another special saddle made for Vaghar so he could securely take you and your daughter on adventures in the neighboring lands. He took Lady Rhaena for a flight too, wishing for her to fly one last time on her late mother’s dragon. 

He trained with his nephews again when they visited Harrenhal or when they invited you to Dragonstone and Driftmark. They were eager to spend time with you as well.

The Dowager Queen Alicent stayed in King’s Landing and found comfort in scriptures, her children, grandchildren and her friendship with Queen Rhaenyra. 

Lastly, when Luthor Tyrell held a tournament in the honor of his firstborn son, Aemond insisted you go. This time, he took part in the tournament. You cheered when he won both the sword fight— cutting poor Luthor’s sword in half with Blackfyre— and the joust— knocking him off his horse, his armor getting caught in the horse’s reins, dragging his insufferable arse back to the stables where it belonged. That night, you made love to Aemond not once, not twice, but thrice, knowing you made the right choice when you fought for him.

Needless to say, when you approached this sad little dragon-less boy who read alone in the library 11 years before… you did not imagine he would be the one bringing you so much joy today. And knowing you were the one brightening his days always had you emotional. Because he was everything to you.

Your friend. Your Prince. Your husband. Your love.

To say that Aemond’s whole life changed in the span of a few moons was certainly an understatement. He now had everything he had ever wished for and more. 

At long last, Aemond Targaryen found peace. All thanks to you.

Thank you for reading!

I wanted to give Aemond a happy ending. I also realized I could in fact give a happy ending to everybody and a relatively nice death to Viserys. I don’t know about you, but I read the book and it felt really good to write this fix-it. Sorry if I toyed with your emotions throughout the story. I couldn't possibly unalive the reader during childbirth, come on. I promised you a HEA.

I was in a 12 year writing slump before I wrote Deserving, Indulging and Striving. I will write more about Aemond. Probably some smutty drabbles, imagines and one shots. This fictional man has me in a chokehold.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader smut #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x fem!oc #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond x reader smut #aemond smut #aemond fanfic #aemond imagine #aemond one eye x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #house of the dragon #hotd

[chuuyanakaharalegalwife]

Negotiation (Dazai x Reader)

Pushing the chubby Dazai agenda, he's so cute! Look at his little belly, im gonna cry it's so cute!! Missing him terribly.

In which we bribe him with affection and feed him

Read my other dazai oneshots here & here This has been in my draft for soo long, but I got a job and forgot about it. Happy late Diwali!

Bye now - Mars ♡

Out of everything you saw yourself doing this year, dating an overdramatic enigmatic manchild who whines like a baby was not one of them.

How did you get here? You started officially dating Dazai a few months ago, you two were exclusive. Before that you probably fooled around for a year, flirting here and there, and going on dates, random hook ups but somewhere along the way, you fell for each other. Hard.

It did have a trial and error period and you did have to set some firm boundaries, because as much as fooling around with him was fun, you craved the security of knowing this wasn’t some meaningless fling to him.

Fast forward to being exclusive with Dazai, he’s an amazing partner. His genius brain is quick to pick up on even the smallest changes and he reads you like an open book. He’s affectionate and he always finds money, granted never his own, to spend on you. He’s great in bed and he’s sweet with words. The list goes on. He’s almost perfect.

However, he’s not the best at opening up, he can talk your ear off without revealing a single thing about his mind. His heart. He also tends to neglect himself very much, at first you thought it was just temporary work stress but even when he’s away from work he does it.

At first you noticed how he only puts in efforts when you’re around, and the longer your relationship went on, the less effort he made. The biggest issue you have is how he so carelessly skips meals. It makes you angry but after some thoughts and rants to your cat, you’ve decided to bribe him.

You wanted to be subtle about it but honestly, he probably already picked up on it. You’re convinced he just allows you to do what you want.

You started off small and your plan was to gradually build him up to regular meals.

The first time you did it, it was as simple as feeding him a bite from your snack. A simple yogurt bowl with fruits and a “Mm, try this, it’s good” and stuffing his mouth with a spoonful of yogurt and berries.

That became a regular habit you did, giving him small bites of your snacks whether that be protein bars, cookies, chocolates. This then transferred into your meals, purposefully adding more to your plate so you can whine about not finishing it and offering the rest to him so he can.

That didn’t last long, he quickly caught on your little act and urge you to feed it to your cat instead.

Then the brilliant idea of bribing him with kisses and affection to eat came about. It started with an argument and then you two not speaking for two days. Angry as you were, you decided to deny him of your hugs and you two slept with you backs to each other, you slept at least. Dazai stayed up and drank his feelings. The second night he didn’t even come home, God knows where he were.

The third day you two resolved your little conflict and with some probing, sweet words, kissing and negotiation you got Dazai to eat at least one full meal a day.

You both agreed on that. Baby steps, one meal a day, it’s better than drinking alcohol and eating tinned crab almost every day.

Right now, you were both on the couch, you on his lap with his arms lazily slung around you. You had a small bowl of rice and stir-fried vegetables along with some eggs.

You held the chopsticks up to his lips and looks at him in his eyes, “Please” you looked down at his lips, “For me” you watched as he hesitantly opened his mouth and took the food and chewed and swallowed.

Placing a kiss on his forehead you praised him for his first bite.

Then you repeated that until the bowl of food was almost finished, feeding him, kissing him, praising him.

After he managed to finish, you placed the bowl down and caress his cheeks, “You did so good, m’proud” you mumbled and kisses him. Your hands cupped his face, lips brushing against his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the crease of his brows, his temple, his jawline. Just anywhere your lips found, you placed sweet kisses.

He smiled and you felt like you’d melt away and fall off the couch if it weren’t for his arms around you. “Thank you, Bella” He mumbles quietly, and you can’t help but capture his lips in another sweet kiss. You feel his hands squeeze your waist, pulling you closer to him as he desperately returns your kiss.

He pulls away from you, his brows furrowed, and he belched and it catches you off guard. Dazai looks at you, awaiting your reaction and when he saw your smile and heard a little giggle, it triggered his own smile.

“I really am proud of you, Osamu”

#marswrites #dazai osamu #dazai fluff #bsd dazai #bsd x reader #dazai x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd fluff #eat your veggies #food is good #chubbydazaiagenda

[lbukisgf]

sweet mouchie <3

— fem!reader, sub!reader, period sex, blood, praise, use of the ‘princess’ & ‘good girl’ pet names, maybe a little graphic, first time writing smut please bear with me <3

* not proofread. also may not make sense. MINORS DNI OR ELSE!!

truth be told, you couldn’t really remember how you ended up in this situation, besides what had probably led him, your loving boyfriend; to do this.

all you remember is that scara had came home and began cuddling with you, once you had told him about how bad your period cramps hurt— now he’s giving you the sweetest fucking ever. you could actually cry because of how sweet it felt.

his cock was gently nestled within your walls, the base covered in a sheen of dark red, as it slowly worked you open. His arms, lovingly wrapped around your waist as your own were hooked around his neck, an intimate and loving hold.

“shhh, just relax, g’nna push me out…” He quietly said, rubbing his hand up and down your back gently.

you could only let out a pathetic whine in response, tearing up a little at the stimulation, bordering on too much and not enough. tightening your grip around him, pulling him down closer to you.

“jus’ be a good girl for me, relax…” scara said, pressing a kiss to your temple, rolling his hips forward as he did so— setting a slow, but deep pace. he moved one of his hands off your back, instead moving it down to gently rub small circles on your swollen clit with his thumb.

you jerked a little at the sudden contact, letting out a small mewl. he merely chuckled in response, pressing a soft but passionate kiss against your lips, swallowing the sweet noises you made; before pulling away with a peck.

he began thrusting a little harsher, his hands moving to grab your legs, pinning them down until they met your chest— dipping his thumb into your cunt before moving it back to your clit almost immediately.

“s—s’too much!” you squealed, pushing your hands weakly against his shoulders, feeling the hot knot in your tummy.

“feels good though, hm? making a mess all over me, just let go.” he mumbles, pressing a little harder on your poor clit as you whined.

you began to tear up a little at the harsh stimulation, letting out a loud moan of his name as you came. you could feel him cumming inside too, the warmth only adding to your pleasure as you temporarily losing your sense for a few moments.

when you finally came back down to earth, you could feel him working you through the aftershocks of your orgasm— breathing heavily as he did so.

“still with me, princess?” he quietly asked, taking his thumb off your clit, as he pressed multiple little kisses to your cheeks.

you just weakly nodded in response to his words, your eyes closing, gently fluttering around him. he smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist, laying beside you on the bed.

“we can stay like this for now, hm?” he quietly said, pulling the blankets over the two of you, nuzzling himself a little deeper into you.

“goodnight princess, i love you.” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“g’night mouchie…” was all you could get before succumbing to the drowsiness.

lbukisgf Ⓒ 2023

#— vi writes #genshin smut #scaramouche #scara x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer #wanderer x reader #genshin impact #this is so ass #i apologise for this

[amywritesthings]

SILVER UNDERGROUND / deleted scene 01.

levi's pov #1. :: a deleted scene from chapter one. this is an alternate pov of levi's first conversation with james in the trost hospital.

happy silver underground eve! i thought i could give you all a little treat for the very first edition of additional SU content. this is a special levi-only drabble covering his pov when james first wakes up. i wrote it to better understand his own head while writing james' pov, but it wasn't necessary for the final draft. apologies for the pain, my dears. xo this is unedited. 1.8k words / angst, language, mentions of self hatred. :: please remember: this is additional content. nothing in the deleted drabbles are tied to the main content/overall final storyline.

He doesn’t bother knocking.

Levi can’t, not when you’ve been awake for twenty minutes. Twenty whole minutes where he wasn’t there. Twenty fucking minutes where you were alone, lying in a hospital cot, confused and out of sorts and more than likely asking for him.

He was supposed to be there. 

He just didn’t think today would be the day it finally happened.

As he rushes through the hallways of the Trost District hospital, he tries to keep his face neutral. You’re going to need one hell of a recovery period, so he’s going to need to be strong — to hold true to his twilight promises he made six months ago, come what may.

According to Hange, you’d already been gone for several minutes by that time. That didn’t stop him from talking to you through the entire surgery prep process like you could hear him anyway. They’re cutting your shirt now. They’re setting up the blood bag. I’ll sit here all damn day hooked up to it if you need more.

(For someone notorious for silence, he sure had a lot of promises ready on his tongue.)

The door of the medical wing swings wide, and he could fall to his knees then and there: you’re sitting. For fuck’s sake, you’re actually sitting.

You look sickly, disoriented, but your eyes dart across the room towards the sudden intrusion. Your chest rises and falls in your gown. Your fingers are moving just fine.

He can’t say anything — he’s a goddamn coward waiting for the other shoe to drop in this miraculous awakening. 

“Captain Levi!”

Doctor Rini’s voice calls to him, but the captain notices immediately that you don’t turn to the doctor. No. Your eyes never leave him, and it’s… 

Blank.

Maybe you’re just exhausted.

Maybe you’re not quite here in the present yet.

“Doctor,” he replies, clipped to avoid emotion.

“I sent Nurse Phillipa to find you,” Doctor Rini exhales with anxiety.

“I was found.” Levi locks onto sarcasm as a defense mechanism. If it wasn’t for the good doctor, he’d already have been at the foot of your bedside. Begging for forgiveness is hardly enough. I’m sorry. “So?” I’m so sorry. “Tired of sleeping yet, or are we looking at six more months of winter?”

If you’re James, then you’ll tell him that you’d take another six months to avoid him.

If you’re still you, then you’ll tease that his left hand is trembling.

But you stare.

That’s it — that’s all you do.

Stare, and stare, and stare.

“You only look like total shit,” he continues with a snort, “so I guess that’s a good thing.”

“Captain—”

“Apologies for Levi’s intrusion, Doctor Rini.” Your attention turns when Erwin enters the room. Levi almost wants to demand you keep your eyes on him — look at me, James — but the commander speaks for the both of you. “Nurse Phillipa was able to locate me in my office. I had to retrieve Captain Levi personally. Is it alright if we come in, or is she not yet lucid?”

Of course she’s fucking lucid. She’s right here.

Levi takes a few steps forward, tightening his trembling hand into a fist to keep it concealed.

“She is… lucid, Commander.” The doctor stops there. There’s a but coming — he can feel it.

Levi doesn’t like this, not one fucking bit.

“But?” he snaps, glaring the doctor’s way for the first time since he burst into the room.

The doctor sighs with sadness then gestures towards the fallen lieutenant.

“Lieutenant, state your name.”

What?

Levi can’t help how fast his attention whips towards you. His stomach drops to the floor, digging itself into the dirt. You look… scared?

You shouldn’t be scared. He’s here. He promised he’d be here.

“...you originally stated she suffered a major concussion,” Erwin says.

“Yes, I did,” the doctor agrees, “and I also stated on the report that the probability of temporary to permanent post-traumatic memory damage was high.”

You have to be fucking joking.

Erwin states it in plain terms: “In other words, sustained amnesia.”

The fist at his side painfully tightens, his trimmed nails pushing into calloused skin. He sets his jaw, forcing himself to breathe through his nose.

“It never said anything about permanent,” Levi growls, pushing forward away from the doctor, away from the commander, to talk to you himself. Erwin’s fingertips touch his shoulder as if to dissuade him, but there’s nothing — absolutely nothing — that will keep him from this.

There’s no way it’s sustained.

Confusion in the beginning, maybe, but you just needed to talk a little. He’d show them both.

The visitor’s chair screeches against the floor until it hits the edge of your bed. You’re still doe-eyed and lost, lips parted like you’re wanting to speak — he can help. You two practically grew up with the same half-baked brain cell.

“Where are we?” Levi asks, leaning forward in his seat. He stares up at you with a hidden layer of affection, willing for the James he knows — the James he’s always known — to see.

I’m here. Look at me, James, I promised I’d be here.

“Levi,” Erwin warns. He doesn’t get it.

Levi nods his chin, albeit barely. “Answer the question.”

You pause, fidgeting in that way when you’re nervous. “I… don’t know.”

“You do know,” he urges.

“I don’t.”

“Where — are — we?”

“Stohess District?” you guess. It’s not that far off. Maybe he’s not being forceful enough.

“Try again, dumbass.”

Wrong idea — your eyes widen like you’d never been more insulted in your life. He’s jokingly called you worse. “Excuse me?”

“Levi.” Erwin again.

Levi refuses. “What’s this building called?”

“I said I don’t know,” you plead, and your voice sounds so small that it breaks his heart. 

“Do you know what titans are?”

“Of course I know what the fuck titans are.”

His heart flutters at your swear. You’re not entirely lost. “Good. And do you know what the Survey Corps is?”

“Yes, why does this matter?”

“Do you know where you’re from?” If he wasn’t in control, then he’d reach out to your hand. Cup your cheek. Swear on heaven and Earth that you know this one — you just need a little more time. You need to try a little harder.

Yet your shoulders slack. “I don’t.”

Levi’s face drops, his voice taking a sharper edge by accident. “You do. You just aren’t trying hard enough.”

Maybe insults will work.

Maybe spilling his guts of all of his darkest secrets will help.

He’s a man falling through space and time itself, willing the past not to condemn him right now. He’s sinned a great deal in his life, but that doesn’t mean you should suffer for it, too.

Because you know. You know, you know, you know—

“I am trying, asshole,” you hiss, and his face lights up for just a moment.

There you are. There’s that fire. Fight — fight for this, fight with me, just fight.

“Levi,” Erwin interrupts, “that’s enough.”

Maybe it is enough.

Maybe you can rest and try tomorrow, to let you sit in this mental darkness for a little more time, but he’s waited six long months for this.

“So that’s it, then, huh?”

Levi dares to poke at the wound just one more time. You always worked best when adrenaline courses through your veins. That’s why you two were so perfect.

“You’re going to lay down and happily take being a nameless has-been after being stuck in a coma for months?”

But it was the wrong wound.

He regrets his strategy as soon as you look horrified, and he doesn’t have time to quell your fears. Your trust turns to Erwin for the truth. “It’s been months?!”

The fire dies. You’re terrified in this bed, one hiccup away from a panic attack, and Levi is powerless to fight it for you. Erwin takes over and the captain is glad for it — he’s a stone’s throw away from begging.

Come back to me. It was too much to ask of you, but he was selfish enough to ask on your near death bed anyway. Come back to me, James, or I’ll fucking drag you back myself.

But you’re not you.

You’re not you, and he’s the reason for it.

The captain chooses silence as he watches your face, memorizing the slopes of your face. His heart clenches with the hard decision in front of him: Erwin has a clearer head for this. He’s so blinded by his guilt that he’s already hurt you in the first hour of your revival.

Maybe this is his punishment for dragging you into all of this in the first place.

From the Underground City to Hell on Earth, he is the reckoning of your demise.

I think I’d remember the name of this piece of shit — in this case, you mean him.

You’re right. He is a piece of shit.

He is a danger to you.

You are in the middle of talking to Erwin when he abruptly stands from his chair, the wooden legs scraping sickeningly across the floor. Everything is underwater. He feels like his body is shutting down, so he does what he has to:

He turns to leave.

Facing the entrance, he drops his chin to his chest with a defeatist attitude. “This is a waste of time,” he urges the commander, relenting just one moment where he admits he’s fucked this up. 

He’s not the right person for this, even if he’s always been your person.

He’s not the right guide to help you, even if all he’s ever done is hold your hand.

Maybe this is fate.

Maybe this is the second chance he’s always wanted for you — one without the Scouts, without running from the law, without looking over your shoulder.

Maybe Erwin will give you an honorable discharge so you can spend your days in the warmth of the sun.

He could live with that, even if he never sees you again.

“You’re always so quick to walk the fuck away.”

Suddenly his boot scuffs the floor.

His eyes shoot wide, staring at the floor ahead. There’s a splintered floor panel at the frame of the door he’s never noticed in the hundreds of times he’s come here.

For a moment he’s fooled. This could all be an elaborate trick to punish him for the shit he’s done in his life.

(Maybe you do remember, deep down somewhere he cannot follow yet.)

But you were right back then and you were right now: he is quick to walk away—

—if it means that he can't hurt you from this distance.

“I… didn’t mean to say that,” you correct quietly, and his face scrunches to battle the overwhelming bout of grief that washes over him. “I don’t know why I said that, sir. Forgive me.”

Sir.

Not Captain.

Not Ackerman.

Not Levi.

Before he can cause anymore damage, he walks out the door.

Erwin can take it from here.

#aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #amys deleted scenes. #fic: silver underground #levi ackerman x reader

[bambi-kinos]

I have been thinking about this ask since I got it and as to the question of why John treated people the way he did, especially Paul. My take on this situation is that John Lennon was not allowed to grow up by the environment and people he was surrounded by and so he could not envision the future consequences of his actions the way that the average adult can. This with the addition of his constant drug use (which in all likelihood left him with significant brain damage) meant that he could not function the way an adult should.

John actually did have periods of emotional growth where he looked inward, changed, and tried to do better. These moments took place before he got famous, when he was faced with adversity and he rose to meet it.

IMO Hamburg 1960 was such a time. John partied, he found new pills to take, he experimented with kissing and shagging men, he discovered transgender people (and shagged them), and had a lot of ups and downs with his boyfriend(s) and his group. It is easy to dismiss this as mindless hedonism but as a retired hedonist myself (though I never pushed as hard as John did) I will tell you: hedonism can lead to introspection and self knowledge. John really pushed it to its limits and he almost lost Paul because of it but I think the Great Unknown that happened in Hamburg pushed John to actively change. He cleaned himself up a bit especially once Stuart left to be with Astrid. Once he came back to Liverpool (after enduring the trauma of his bandmates being ripped from him, yet another violent separation that no doubt would have left him in an emotional tailspin) he rested, hooked up with Cynthia, and then went looking for Paul knowing that he needed him to make this band thing work. Like, John spent a few weeks in his bedroom not speaking to anyone once he went home. He didn't want to be seen, he wanted to sleep and eat hot food, and think. He was considering whether he should continue with the band or not, if this was really worth it. Which implies there was a precarious moment where John was thinking of just ending The Beatles. He decided that the plan still had merit, ran into George, and then went to fetch Paul. A few months of light groveling and nagging later, Paul was his again. John committed to The Beatles and therefore committed to Paul. Paris was the culmination of this change and John's reward for putting in the work, and from what we can gather, Paul made every inch worth John's while.

The Beatlemania years leading up to Sgt. Pepper and psychedelia. This was period is more like 1961-1965 Shea Stadium. From here it was an upward climb and subsequently the most intense period of his relationship with Paul. I don't think this was just youthful enthusiasm and the flush of a new relationship, I think John was learning and growing as a person thanks to this adversity. He bonded even closer to Paul which resulted in their intimacy deepening; John's songwriting matured and culminated in "Ticket to Ride" which is a brutal self evaluation of his own faults and how he drives his loved ones away from him. You don't write a song like "Ticket to Ride" because you have no idea what it's like for your lover to get fed up with your moodiness and leave you. John was much more self aware than he's given credit for. This continued onward, them thinking they've reached the summit only to find there's a new height to climb. John said something to the effect of "I saw the top of the mountain" as a result of the first Shea concert. (They would do a second Shea concert in 1966.) That was when he realized that The Beatles were it and that they were not vacating the number one spot any time soon. What else was there to strive for?

And I think after that, a lot of John's emotional development kind of...stopped. Or was held up. Or slowed down to a snail's pace, whichever you prefer. The LSD had a hand in this, tripping constantly takes a lot out of you. Yesterday played its part, John emotionally retreated out of fear of losing Paul (which of course ensured that he lost Paul forever). Success becomes your enemy sometimes; John had so much success that he no longer had to face adversity, no longer had to grow because everything he wanted was on tap. As someone somewhere said, fame ruined the Beatles in this way.

That's the crux of it, I think. He just stopped maturing. It was childish the way he slagged off Paul -- not just Paul but other people as well. Sean said that John spent the rest of his life apologizing to everyone he ran into because of Lennon Remembers, which implies he burned a lot of bridges with that one. John had a habit of doing that and his fame as a Beatle enabled him to do it without consequences. No one was willing to stand up to him so he didn't get to learn a pattern of "don't do this or else this will happen." He was mentally damaged from his drug usage and I also wonder if he had a genuine learning disability of some kind because he simply could not make the connection between cause/effect: "If I do X then Y might happen so I shouldn't do X." His mother was not a drug user like John but she exhibited many of the same behaviors he did. Namely the "inability to visualize consequences" thing.

John did care about Paul, especially when it was starting out. I think the love was pure then because his mental aesthetic of who and what Paul was had not yet been distorted. John knew who Paul was, he knew who John Lennon was, they were in love and everything was possible.

But then John's untreated mental illness begins to take its toll, he's self medicating with drugs which does more harm than good, his mental aesthetic of Paul distorts more and more because Paul will not let him in. The media did this to John too, all of them reporting on how cool Paul was and how amazing Yesterday is and John is shitting himself internally because he can feel the split already forming between them musically. John is unable to stop himself from manipulating Paul in response, which is a bad move because Paul is the ultimate contrarian and bolts in response. Which sends John into deeper panic etc. And oh yes, the entire world is watching them while this happens and nitpicking their every move. We live in the age of social media, we know what this is like.

Over time that love became mixed in with anger and resentment. John could not tell fantasy from reality. He did what he always does and he imagined something, tricked himself into believing it, and then got mad about something that didn't exist. If he did reach out to Paul then Paul responded badly, which understandably devastated John's feelings.

When you show someone your real feelings and they dismiss you or trivialize your vulnerability because they want to Win At Being Right...your relationship crumbles with that person. A common bug in Paul's relationships is that he needs to Win At Being Right even at the expense of people loving him. We don't know this for sure but I'm convinced he did this to John plenty of times. Frankly, a relationship cannot survive that behavior. Lack of mutual respect kills marriages all the time. I absolutely believe that Paul disrespected John and trivialized his feelings (even if by accident) and that this caused John to become bitter over time since Paul took him for granted. Who wouldn't become bitter under those circumstances?

This is how they got into the "fuck you/no, please, fuck you/no no no fuck YOU/I absolutely insist, you must go fuck yourself" cycle. Which John really just expanded on during the 1970s with his bitching about Paul, it was just another level of the "fuck you bitch" cycle that started between them with Yesterday. And John's immaturity and brain damage from drug usage and his inability to understand consequences meant that he didn't fully comprehend what he was doing. He didn't want to think that Paul was vulnerable because Paul had rejected John's vulnerability. He didn't want to imagine he was hurting Paul deeply because Paul had hurt him deeply. He wanted revenge on Paul more than he wanted to keep his relationship with Paul because he thought Paul wouldn't be too damaged by it. I think John had gotten comfortable with the idea that no matter what he threw at Paul, Paul would not only survive it but that he'd rub John's face in it. I don't think John ever considered the idea that he could actually succeed in what he was doing, he never imagined that he would actually win the argument and that he would damage Paul's image and John's relationship with Paul forever. That sense of "I'll lose no matter what" enabled him to act out however he wanted because it wasn't like any of it would matter anyway, right? Paul can survive anything. He's invincible.

Right?

John did love Paul, I believe that. I think he loved Paul deeply and sincerely. I think if he actually understood what Paul was thinking and feeling then John would have changed tactics immediately or even stopped what he was doing. But John's drug usage, years of slights and disrespect from Paul, being unable to visualize consequences, and immaturity caused him to act out in a childish way. He stopped listening to Paul and started listening to his resentments and grudges. Lashing out at Paul was the only outlet he had and John didn't know how to do anything else. He had no incentive to learn otherwise and grow up, deal with Paul on adult terms.

Funnily enough I think it's actually losing George that finally set something into motion inside John. Like, George cut John off, an extremely big deal. In my neck of the woods its called "severing" and its probably the most difficult thing you can possibly do with any sort of relationship. George ignored John; he cut John out of his autobiography; he stopped talking to John; he did not mention him in public. He knew this was the most brutal punishment he could devise for John Lennon and it worked. John wrote "lost" by George's name in the word association game. John went too far bitching about Bob Dylan and not apologizing for hanging George out to dry. George had enough and did the right thing. He severed his relationship with John because John was toxic and dragged George down. Of all the people in John's life, George is the one who willingly served consequences to John when he was surrounded by enablers and errand boys.

That, more than anything, seems to be what set John on the back foot. I sincerely believe that George cutting him off forced John to do some introspection and that is part of what he was doing in the Dakota after Sean was born. Asking himself what he did to make George cut him off; and then John slowly started to grow and mature again. Because you see, George provided what Paul couldn't: he gave John adversity to meet, which forced John to grow as a person. And so we got the song "Woman" which is not just about the women in John's life but is also a letter to all the people he hurt with his thoughtlessness and immaturity, where he finally starts taking responsibility for his actions:

I can hardly express, My mixed emotion at my thoughtlessness, After all I'm forever in your debt,

I will try to express, My inner feelings and thankfulness, For showing me the meaning of success,

hold me close to your heart, However distant don't keep us apart, After all it is written in the stars,

please let me explain, I never meant to cause you sorrow or pain, So let me tell you again and again and again,

It's on par with "Ticket to Ride" and "I Know, I Know" in John showing introspection and discussing his own flaws. Something that he notably was not doing during his peak "fuck you Paul" era.

John loved Paul but also resented him due to their circumstances. He wanted to hurt Paul but didn't think he could actually do so because his mental aesthetic of Paul was so viciously distorted. He dehumanized Paul by putting him on a pedestal, made him an object John could degrade at a moment's notice to make himself feel better. You can do that to objects without consequences; when you do it to people, you get pushback.

Losing George and Paul keeping him at a distance for years is what made John finally realize that he had hurt them and that he could hurt them to the point that he would never see them again. It took years of self examination for John to come to this realization which indicates how disordered and muddy his thinking was.

#john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #mclennon #my meta #beatles meta #the beatles #talktalktalk

[antxlss]

secret

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

warning: angst, manipulation, heated argument

summary: after promising you he would, rafe still hasn’t went public with your relationship yet. you finally decide to confront him and see a side of him you’ve never seen before.

words: 1k

a/n: thank you for reading! if you have any requests, please do not hesitate to reach out! i love you, and as always, enjoy! <3 (btw the term “y/n” is never used)

-—————————⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆—————————-

rafe and i had been dating for 10 months now. everything was so good. everything except for the fact that no one knew about our relationship except us.

we started dating a few weeks after we hooked up during a kegger. not our best moment, i know. we’ve been in the “honeymoon stage” ever since. once we made it official, we both agreed to keep it on the down low for the time being, due to the whole kook versus pogue thing. you see i’m a pogue. i’m a part of the working class. my family isn’t poor, but we definitely don’t have money pouring out of our asses like the kooks. both my parents work a minimum wage and we live as comfortably as a pogue can. on the other hand you have rafe, my boyfriend. he’s a kook. he’s a cameron. everything he’s ever gotten has been handed to him on a silver platter. these people have more money than they know what do with.

in my opinion, this kook versus pogue thing is bullshit. you shouldn’t judge people based on their financial state. before i met rafe, he had the complete opposite view, but i’ve managed to sway him a little. i think he just has a soft spot for me for some reason.

anyways, like i said, at the beginning of our relationship we decided to keep it underground for a few weeks. those weeks quickly turned into months, and now it’s been 10 months.

i’m so sick of keeping us a secret. i want to go on real dates, and post instagram pictures. i want to go to his house and sleep over. i don’t want to be a secret.

i’ve brought up going public multiple times but rafe just shuts me down. i’m starting to get aggravated, because it feels like he’s embarrassed of me.

earlier this month - a fellow pogue and my dear friend - john b, and sarah - kook princess, rafe’s sister - started dating. no one really had anything to say about them, all our friends were supportive. that was the final straw for me. if they can do it, so can rafe and i.

so, i decided to text rafe and tell him i wanted to meet up and talk to him.

with that, i grabbed my keys and left my house. i started my drive to the cameron’s.

i had only been to rafe’s house 3 times. it was pretty rare to have all 4 of his family members out of the house for an extended period of time.

i pull in out behind the house. the spot rafe tells me to park, so it’s hidden. i get out of my car and make my way to the back door. i gently knocked and after about 30 seconds rafe had opened the door and brought me into his warm embrace.

“hey darling.” me mumbled into my hair. he let go of me tracing his hand to the small of my back. he gently guided me forward and closed the door. we went to sit on the couch. he grabbed my chin and gave me a peck on the lips. “so what’s up?”

i looked at my hands and took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. “well, i wanted to talk about maybe going public?”

“babe we already talked about this okay? everyone would give us a bunch of shit. my family wouldn’t accept you. you know how they are.” he set his hand on my knee.

“but they are fine with john b and sarah. no one has a problem with them.” i sighed. “i’m tired of sneaking around, rafe.”

“i know honey, i am too. but this is the only way we can be together. you know that.” he said with reassurance.

“but it’s not rafe. we could just-”

“look. if you really loved me. you would listen to me” he cut me off.

“i don’t know, i just get the feeling that you want to keep me hidden. i’m done with all the excuses.”

he glared at me. a toxic look he’s never directed towards me. my heart skipped a beat.

“you know i’m just trying to protect you. okay? i don’t think you appreciate me.”

“what are you protecting me from? if you don’t want to be with me anymore just say that!” i yelled at him. my eyes glossed over with frustration.

“i know you didn’t just yell at me.” his eyes darkened. he stood up abruptly, dragging me with him. his hand went to the back of my neck grasping me firmly in place. our faces almost touching “not after all i’ve given you. i took a chance on you okay. i wouldn’t do that for any nasty pogue.”

i pushed his chest. hard. breaking his hold on my neck. my hand raised ready to slap him across the face. before my hand could make contact, he grabbed my wrist, pinning it to my side as he pushed me against the wall.

he brought his mouth inches away from my ear. “want to try that again sweetheart?” he whispered in a husky tone.

i felt like my heart was going to explode. warm hot tears streamed steadily down my face. i’ve never seen him act this way before. he only ever been sweet and loving to me.

“now you’re quiet.” he rolled his eyes. he let go of me. his hands flew to his temples, gently rubbing them. pacing back and forth. “shit. i’m so sorry baby. but you can’t do that to me. if you didn’t say shit like that, i wouldn’t have to get mean with you okay?”

i still stood against the wall. frozen. i couldn’t move. i stared at the man in front of me. everything i thought i knew about him was completely gone. “i- i’m gonna go.” i stuttered.

i quickly walked to the door, rafe on my heels. just as i reached the door rafe grabbed my shoulders and spun me around.

“i said i was sorry. what more do you want from me?” he asked, his eyes starting to gloss over.

“just let me go.” i jerked out of his grip.

i continued to my car with rafe’s apologies flowing through the air.

i don’t know if i’ll ever be able to face him again.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagines #rafe obx #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe angst #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe fic #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #outer banks fluff #outer banks #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron imagine #jj obx #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank

[deathmetalunicorn1]

How bout teen!reader and the other women in the ROR family humiliating the men for teasing the reader after practically passing out from period cramps? Idk which men you'd think of when I say that it'd be like, them thinking that reader was just being overly dramatic and that the pain wasn’t so bad, and then Brunhilde and Shiva’s wives make them go through this things that you plug in your abdomen to simulate period cramps? Well, yeah, that and then they kund of understand why reader nearly died. I'm just venting because my colleagues are so annoying about this when they don’t even know what it feels like, lol <3

-You were curled up in Parvati’s arms, a pout on your face as you held the hot water bottle to your stomach while Brunnhilde was yelling at the male gods and warrior, the ones who laughed at you.

-Your unwanted monthly visitor was never the same, and this month, she decided to mess you up with such bad cramps that you nearly fainted, which was worrying for your family, but as soon as they knew you were all right, they found out why and many of the men in your family were quickly laughing.

-This wasn’t funny to you- this was torture, and it was only when you started crying, overwhelmed with emotions, that Aphrodite, Shiva’s wives, and the Valkyries stepped in to discipline the men.

-Kali gave the men all a lesson on what happens during a woman’s shark week, on how the uterus is basically trying to kill itself since it didn’t get what it wanted, and how no two women’s shark weeks were the same and some, like you, sometimes had severe symptoms.

-Some did sympathize with you and other women, but it was Aphrodite who suggested a more hands on approach to this lesson and produced a cramp simulator for every single person who laughed at you.

-Once they were all hooked up, a few, like Loki and QSH, complained, asking if they really had to do this.

-You were given a bowl of ice cream as you curled up on the couch as Brunnhilde took control of the remote, “Laugh by the end of this and you will be forgiven.”

-Twenty minutes later, you were the only laughing, along with the other women, as many of the men were unable to even move, after going from level one to level fifteen in cramps.

-You were pretty sure a few had passed out themselves, while others were shaking, sweating heavily, and gasping for air- this was not fun! This was torture!!

-Once the devices were removed, Aphrodite smirked down at all of them, once they were all awake, “Now then- would anyone like to laugh this time?”

-There was nothing but silence as her answer before Apollo spoke, “You have to deal with that every month?!”

-Durga gave a small nod, “Almost every woman does, but it’s never the same, one month it might be mild and only last three days, others you might be crippled and suffer for a whole week!”

-Eyes went wide- this wasn’t natural before Loki spoke, not being rude, ��How do you guys handle this!” a few glances between the women were sent around before Parvati spoke up, “It’s expected of us to continue going about our lives as if nothing is wrong.”

-Eyes went wide, like they didn’t believe before the ladies all started taking turns telling the comments that you and they have been forced to endure, “It can’t be that bad!”, “You’re just faking it to get out of doing stuff.” “Still gotta go to work!”, “Need to take care of the kids!”, “Gotta clean the house!”, “Need to go to school.”, “Don’t talk about that- it’s gross and unnatural.”, “Oh you must be on your period!”, “Not to mention we have to deal with things like breakouts, headaches, and bloating- just to name a few.”

-You were the one who then finished the argument, “Even if we’re in pain, or like me when I almost passed out earlier- we’re expected to pretend that we’re okay as society expects that from us.”

-You’re pretty sure that you all got the point across, especially after Buddha cuddled you, hugging you while you were wrapped in a fluffy blanket. Shiva was showering his wives with affection, apologizing to them for every incident that he was insensitive towards them.

-Now if you could just get every other male on earth to understand what it feels like to have a period- then maybe more things would change.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror loki #ror buddha #ror shiva