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irisintheafterglow · 5 months

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...but I don't like a gold rush

summary: you're dynamight's publicist and, by some joke by fate, you fell in love with him. you're pissed about it.

wc: 1.3k

cw/tags: swearing, mutual pining, both kats and reader are emotionally constipated, happy ending

note: was listening to a taylor swift love songs playlist on spotify and this popped into my head. short and sweet, hope you like it all my bakugirlies <3 will be back to your regularly scheduled programming of jjk angst and jackals crack shortly

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated!

"this is a disgusting feeling and i hate it. how do i get rid of it?"

"you're in love, babe. there is no 'getting rid of it' unless you find someone else to hyper-fixate on," your best friend reminds you and you groan out of frustration for the millionth time. "might i suggest deku? or maybe shoto? if you want a smoking hot pro, he's definitely not the only one around." her mouth quirks teasingly and you half-heartedly chuck a pillow in her direction.

"he's the only one i want, though, and that's the fucking problem," you lament, "it's so embarrassing."

"have you considered the possibility that he might be interested in you, too? you're already around him 24/7." you bark out a humorless laugh. what a joke. the words "bakugo katsuki" and "reciprocating feelings" did not belong in the same sentence.

"i'm his publicist. it's my job to be around him 24/7." she shrugs indifferently and gives you a skeptical look that makes your face heat up. "am i out of my mind? falling in love with a coworker?"

"considering that your coworker declined the 'sexiest hero alive' award three times now, it's not that far-fetched," she admits and it makes your stomach feel even more queasy. your unease must have finally gotten through to her as she sits up from her bed and determinedly meets your eyes through the reflection of the mirror. "look. any man worth talking to will pass out when he sees you in that," she states, gesturing at the modest but elegant dress covering your body. "if bakugo doesn't realize how much of a catch you are, then you shouldn't waste another breath in his direction."

the sentiment was easier said than done, unfortunately.

the only thought in your mind was him, from the moment the car picked you up from your friend's apartment to stepping onto the carpet of the awards show. crowds of eager fans cheer when you open the door, shouting your name and recognizing you as the brain behind their favorite hero's appearances. you flip a switch in your head, instantly becoming the professional that reassures the cameras and politely answers interviewers' questions. eventually, in what feels like no time at all, the unmarked limo carrying the man you were stupidly in love with pulls into the roundabout drop-off. you try your hardest to keep your composure as his friends exit the vehicle: mina in her sparkly pink gown, deku in his sleek green suit, kirishima in a sheer top that leaves no chiseled muscle uncovered. your breath catches in your throat when he's the last to appear and the frantic screams of the fans fade to nothing when his eyes search the chaos and zero in on you.

"you're late," you say quietly when he's within earshot and he huffs an incredulous laugh.

"and you're stunning," he replies without missing a beat. you don't miss the way his gaze rakes over your body and you despise the way he instantly can set your face on fire. his casual flirting infuriated you to no end, especially when he spoke in that low tone that should only be reserved for...private activities.

"if you think flattery will save you from a lecture, you're deeply mistaken," you force out and pray that he can't hear the waver in your voice. the butterflies in your gut feel like a flock of unruly pigeons. "but, that'll have to wait for after the show. you've got cameras just up ahead."

"this is fucking exhausting," he grunts and you can't help the chuckle that leaves your lips. bright red eyes flick over to you and you swear you can see a cocky glint in them.

"you just got here."

"and? i'm only here for as long as you want to be here," he says and it makes your legs gelatinous. "say the word and we're leaving. no questions asked."

"you're the one who's getting awards tonight," you point out, trying to ignore the way your body naturally gravitated toward his until you were nearly shoulder-to-shoulder in the crowd. at some point, his arm stations itself to float just above your waist, creating a larger bubble for you to breathe without making contact with your body. "you don't wanna stick around to receive them?"

"nah." he shakes his head and waves his other hand in carefree dismissal. "i know that anything i say will just get me in trouble later." his mouth becomes a smirk and you catch him winking at you before making his way toward the flashing lights and calls of his name. you wait patiently for him to finish posing for the insatiable paparazzi, occasionally walking out to fix his collar or brush a strand of hair from his forehead. the burn of his stare doesn't go unnoticed when you're right in front of him, fixing a button on his shirt.

"stop looking at me like that," you mutter and he flashes a sharp tooth in amusement. he knew what he was doing to you; it was impossible for him not to know from the way your hands shook on his collar.

"i wasn't kidding when i said you looked stunning, sweetheart," he murmurs and you have to blink a few times to fix the short circuit in your brain. "you ever gonna tell me how you feel or am i just gonna keep making advances to a brick wall?"

"you have absolutely no concept of-"

"publicist, get out of the way!" you both stiffen and you futilely shake your head the tiniest bit. he doesn't hesitate, and his hand gently pushes you out of the light so he can properly yell at whoever dares to tell you what to do. unlike most of his outbursts, though, his use of profanity and insults toward one's mother was kept to a minimum; it made the true attacks of undermining the reporter's professionalism even sweeter.

"and just for the record," he concludes, "i do whatever they tell me to do, so don't think you can disrespect them and get away with it, 'cause that's never gonna fucking happen. got it?" the shocked reporters nod meekly and bakugo unceremoniously exits the photo area, returning to your side like nothing happened. "i'm sorry about them."

"you shouldn't have done that."

"you're gonna lecture me for defending you?"

"no, not that. the thing you said before we got interrupted," you say, your voice barely a whisper that only he can hear. "about making advances toward a brick wall."

"you mad that i compared you to a brick wall? because it really does seem like that sometimes-"

"no, you idiot." you finally turn to face him and pull him into a quiet corner. "i'm upset because, if this is a joke, it's not funny." he gapes at you for a few seconds, as if he couldn't comprehend what you just said.

"you think," he says slowly, "that i'm joking about liking you." you nod in assent and he drags his hand down his face. you can already hear the protests of his makeup artist, but you don't really care right now. "alright, fine. maybe i'm the idiot in this situation."

"what do you mean?"

"i like you, stupid, and i'm not kidding." his words sounded like they were foreign on his tongue like it was hard for him to voice his feelings aloud. "you deal with my bullshit and you're so fucking pretty, i wanna pass out. get it?"

"mhmm," you hum dumbly, still processing what he was saying. some part of you still was saying that it was a sick joke, but the way his eyes soften when you finally look up at him confirms all that you need to know. bakugo katsuki was irrevocably, uncontrollably in love with you.

and it surprised him just as much as it did you.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#bakugo x you #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x you #katuski bakugo x reader #katuski bakugo x y/n #bakugo katuski x you #bakugo katsuki x reader #mha x you #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you

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romysradio · 3 months

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Look How Far We've Come - J.S.

summary - Y/N recalls the time she told Jake he was going to be a father

warnings - fluff, language, pregnancy, near-labor, use of Y/N

wc - 2.3k

A/N - Sorry about the wait! Here is part 2 of this. I am open to doing a part 3, or basically anything with the two of them "telling" the rest of the group. Leave a comment or send something to my inbox if there's anything you want to see from me/with these two! Also Bradley isn't even in this technically, but in this au he is a major himbo if that wasn't obvious already, but we love him. Okay, happy reading!!!

The mini fan Jake had packed was propped up on the side table, blowing a weak stream of air your way but doing absolutely nothing to lessen the sweltering August heat. Huffing loudly, you stopped bouncing on the exercise ball and used your forearm to wipe the sweat from your forehead.

A hum of satisfaction drew your attention to Jake, who was lounging on the hospital bed eating a sandwich he packed before you guys left. Another noise left his mouth as he took another bite, completely oblivious to the murderous glare you were sending his way.

“Ya know, you have an awful lot of trust in the idea that I won’t come over there and smother you and that damn sandwich with a pillow.” Jake’s eyes widened and his chewing halted at your threat, before a smug grin took over his face.

“Now darlin’, I don’t know about the pillow, but I’ll let you smother me with somethin’ else if you want,” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. You stared at him, your face deadpan, before pulling a hair elastic off your wrist and slingshotting it at his forehead.

“Hey! Don’t damage government property!” He whined, rubbing where the elastic hit him.

You rolled your eyes, “Whatever. Come help me up so I can go sit on my hospital bed.” Jake quickly placed the sandwich on the table next to the fan before rushing over to your side. Grabbing your outstretched hands, he slowly pulled you up off the ball before helping you waddle over to the bed.

With Jake’s help, you eased yourself onto the bed, sitting cross-legged rubbing your rounded belly. Your stomach growled, hunger overtaking your senses. You hadn’t been allowed to eat anything since you were admitted that morning, but seeing as you had been in labor for eight hours since then, you were absolutely starving. Moving ever so slowly, you reached over to the side table, picking up Jake’s half-eaten sandwich as he dug through your hospital bag.

“Here, I got you–Woah, woah, woah. Hand over the sandwich, little lady.” Damn it.

You froze, sandwich halfway to your mouth. Jake’s outstretched hand motioned for you to give it up, and you sighed, placing the sandwich in his palm. “But Jaaaaake, I’m starving.” You whined irritably.

“Hi, Starving, I’m Dad.” He winked.

If looks could kill, Jake Seresin’s body would be unidentifiable, yet the look on your face did nothing to wipe the goofy grin off his face. His green eyes sparkled with mischief, absolutely delighted with himself. You hoped your son got his eyes. And that sweet Seresin smile. You fought off a small grin, and groaned, “Can you please just tell your son to stop taking his sweet time so that I can finally eat something?”

Jake pulled one of the chairs up to the edge of the bed before leaning over and gently cradling your bump. Nine months in and you still got butterflies at the feeling of his big, warm hands on your stomach.

You always knew you wanted children someday, and while these were certainly not the circumstances you had always envisioned, the thought of a little tiny baby, half-you and half-Jake Seresin, made your heart squeeze.

As he pressed kisses and mumbled words to your hospital gown-covered belly, you delicately carded your fingers through his soft blond hair. Everything about your pregnancy felt like a whirlwind. The past nine months had flown by, riddled with anxiety about motherhood and what life would look like after the baby arrived, but right now, with Jake right next to you, you felt oddly at peace. You couldn’t help but think back to how stressed and anxious you had been to tell him you were pregnant.

—--------

You paced the living room anxiously, your mind running a mile a minute. You could hear the clock ticking slowly in the kitchen, reminding you that any second, Jake Seresin’s truck would be pulling into your driveway.

The knot in your stomach was getting tighter with each passing second. What if he got mad? What if he didn’t believe that the baby was his? What if he didn’t want anything to do with the baby? What if he didn’t want anything to do with you?

You knew it was unfair to assume the worst about Jake. People could say whatever they wanted about Hangman, but Jake Seresin had never been anything but sweet and genuine with you. A little cocky, maybe, but he’d never given you any reason to believe he’d leave you hanging.

Selfishly, you also wondered what this would mean for the two of you. You’d always had a thing for Jake, and you were secretly hoping after the two of you hooked up, it would become something more, but a baby just complicated all of that. You wanted him to want you for you, not just because you were having his baby.

The slamming of a truck door pulled you from your thoughts. You tried to psych yourself up as you went to let him in. It’s gonna be fine. You’re just gonna sit him down and rip the bandaid off. It’ll be fine. Everything’s gonna be fine. What could possibly go wrong?

“Hi,” You breathed out, “Thanks for coming over.”

“Of course.” Jake grinned, stepping inside. You internally groaned as you took in his appearance. His dark blonde hair was messy, yet somehow looked perfectly styled. His navy blue jacket was pulled off, revealing a tight white t-shirt underneath, paired with lighter wash jeans which covered his toned legs. How was it fair that he looked so good all of the time?

You shook your head, trying to get rid of the dirty thoughts that were quickly filling it. You waited as he toed his boots off and hung his jacket on a hook by the door before leading him to the couch.

“So,” You started, “I asked you to come over because I need to talk to you about something,”

Jake watched you carefully as you went on, “Do you remember that night we spent together, about a month ago?”

A knowing smirk took over his face, “You know I do, honey. Is that what this is about?”

“Well, yeah, you see–”

“Darlin’, I know we agreed on it being a one-time thing, but if you wanted it to happen again, all you had to do was ask.”

“Ok, but Jake, that’s not–”

“Y’know, I’ve actually been thinking about it too and–”

“Jake, I’m pregnant.” And off comes the bandaid.

His face was frozen in place. You felt like you could see the gears turning inside his head. The blonde carefully got to his feet, slowly pacing in front of the couch.

“O-okay, so,” He glanced at you, an unreadable expression on his face, “So you’re pregnant?”

You nodded gently, getting to your feet. You stood in front of him, halting his movement. Your hands wrapped around his strong, muscular biceps, the tanned skin beneath your–No. Him and those damn muscles are what got you into this situation in the first place.

He stared at you wide-eyed, “And I’m the father?”

You nodded again. The sound of Jake’s quickening breaths engulfed the two of you for a moment. You were about to explain to him that you didn’t expect anything from him when he opened his mouth again.

“B-but, but, we– I mean, I– and the– oh god, and you’re–” His breaths were shallow as his knees buckled. Your grip on him tightened as you tried to hold his towering frame upright, but you could feel him becoming dead weight.

“Alright, down we go, cowboy.” You muttered as you eased the two of you back onto the couch. You quickly reached for your untouched glass of water on the coffee table before handing it to Jake.

“Here, drink this.” He gratefully accepted it, bringing the glass to his lips as you reached your hand up and pushed a few soft, blond strands off his damp forehead. The two of you sat for what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes as Jake absorbed the information.

Kids were something Jake Seresin had never given much thought. Sure, growing up in a conservative Texas family, the idea wasn’t unfamiliar to him, but he’d always known he wanted to be in the Navy. It wasn’t that he didn’t want a wife and kids, he had just assumed it would be something he would have to forgo in order to achieve his career goals. He had accepted that it wasn’t in the cards for him.

“You’d make a great mom,” He spoke quietly, placing the glass back down before turning to you. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean– that was just…a lot to take in.”

You snorted, “Oh, trust me, I know.” The energy in the room shifted as the two of you sat gazing at each other. A deep silence settled between you and Jake as you both searched for the right thing to say.

“I just want you to know that I’m not, like, expecting anything from you or whatever,” You cringed at your bluntness and lack of articulation. “Sorry– I just mean, you can be as involved or not involved as you want. This is a huge surprise for both of us, and I won’t force you to raise a baby if you don’t want to.”

Jake’s expression was unreadable as your words hung in the air. The ticking of the clock in the kitchen was practically deafening as you waited for him to say something, anything.

“You were right in that this is definitely a surprise,” He chuckled.

Jake could never have predicted this. He never even considered the possibility of an unplanned pregnancy, and he couldn’t even imagine what his grandmother would say if she were here. But Jake didn’t care. Right now, one of his favorite people in the entire world was sitting in front of him, literally growing his baby. He was being given an opportunity to have at least a little part of the life he never thought was possible, and he’d be damned if he didn’t take it.

“But if you want to do this, I’m gonna be right there with you. I wanna be as involved as you’ll let me be.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, it was like a floodgate had opened. Your vision blurred as fat tears spilt over, dripping down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?,” Jake cooed comfortingly. He gently lifted you so you were straddling his lap, before pulling you into his arms. You let the tears flow, emptying your head to focus on nothing but the warmth of Jake’s embrace.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed like that before you pulled back slightly, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of the gray hoodie adorning your frame. “Sorry,” You sniffled, “it’s the hormones. One month in and they’re already all out of whack.”

One look at the shoulder of Jake’s white shirt, now littered with stains of mascara and teardrops, had your eyes welling up again. “Shit, your shirt…” You frowned, quickly tried wiping it off, knowing full well your actions were useless.

Jake chuckled, gently grasping your wrist and pulling it away from the stains. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I should probably start getting used to it. I mean, think about it, eight months from now and you and I both will be getting far worse stains on our clothes.”

You let out a watery laugh, a smile making its way onto your face as you realized Jake would probably be the first person to make baby spit-up look good.

—--------

“What are you thinkin’ about, hm?” Jake’s soothing voice drew your attention back to the present.

“When I told you I was pregnant.” You laughed lightly. You watched as Jake smiled fondly, reminiscing about that day last December.

“We’re ready for this, right?” You whispered, unsure if you were really asking Jake or yourself. The blonde lifted his head, hands still glued to your stomach, and met your misty eyes.

“Course we are, darlin’, are you kiddin’ me? We were born ready.” He grinned again. You gave him a pointed look, “Okay, maybe not born ready, but I feel like we have more than enough experience since we basically parent Rooster.”

You giggled at that. Jake wasn’t really wrong, considering how one of Bradley’s terms for letting Jake move in with you guys was that one of you had to pack him a lunch for work everyday.

“Well then, let’s just hope–” The words were stolen from your tongue as pain jolted through you. You closed your eyes, grabbing and squeezing Jake’s hand as your stomach tightened. With his free hand, Jake massaged your neck gently.

“Breathe, baby, breathe. Do you want me to go get the nurse?”

You nodded, eyes still pinched shut. Jake squeezed your hand and kissed your temple before quickly going to find the nearest nurse. He came back 30 seconds later, a red headed nurse trailing him. She smiled warmly at you, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves.

“All right, Miss L/N, let’s check how many centimeters, shall we?”

You took a deep breath, leaning into Jake’s side as he sat, perched on the edge of the hospital bed. The blonde began stroking your hair with his large hand as the nurse stood back up, “Well, it looks like it’s time to head to the delivery room.”

Your eyes widened, “Wait, seriously? This isn’t a joke, right? You’re serious?”

She chuckled at your reaction, “Yes, Ma’am. You’re ten centimeters dilated. You’re about to become a mom.”

You lifted your head to look at Jake, chest tight with a mixture of anxiety and overwhelming happiness, “We’re about to become parents.”

The signature Seresin smile found its way to his face, his green eyes shining with excitement. Jake pushed a stray hair behind your ear, “Yes, we are, honey. Yes, we are.”

Taglist:

@mamachasesmayhem

@eloquentdreamer

#jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #tgm fic #jake seresin fluff #glen powell #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x you #top gun hangman #hangman fic #towtls #the one with the longhorns shirt #look how far we've come #lhfwc #romysradio

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notyetneedcoffee · 7 months

Text

Sharp

Kinktober - Knife Play NSFW - Adults only

Summary: Loki likes your dress better on the floor

The smooth silk felt cool under your fingertips. It shone a deep emerald green. A complicated pattern of silk straps held the dress up. Gold threads and shining jewels adorned the neckline where it plunged between your breasts. As much as the bodice hugged your figure, the skirt of the gown flowed long and full. Spinning slowly before the mirror, your stomach fluttered from the thrill of such a gorgeous gown.

Soft steps drew your attention.

In the full-length mirror you saw Loki pause in the doorway. He stood tall, stiff. A small crease developed on his forehead. Even when he looked cross, he was captivating. His black curls touched the wide shoulders of his fitted black suit.

You spun once more. “You don’t like it?”

Loki’s eyes flared green and a mischievous grin grew upon his face. “I’ll show what I think of it.”

As his walked across the room, a shimmer of green flowed over his frame, transforming the black business suit to just black silk lounging pants. Your tongue slid along your lower lip at the sight of his firm chest. He moved with predatory intention, causing you to take a step back.

Hands landed upon your upper arms to hold you still. Head snapping around, your mouth dropped open at the sight of a Loki doppelganger stepping out of the mirror. Damn, his magic was cool.

Loki, the real one, stopped just in front of you. You had to tip your head up to look at his face. Long, cool fingers brushed along your cheek. They traveled down your neck and trailed along the edge of the fabric, teasing the skin of your chest. Bumps rose on your arms as you shivered.

He held out one hand and a dagger, nearly as long as his forearm, appeared in his hand. You sucked in a breath. Loki leveled the knife at you. His doppelganger held you firm. The edge of the kissed your skin, not to damage you but to let you feel the cold blade. Your pulse quickened.

With a flick of his wrist one of the silk straps sliced free.

“Loki!” You squeaked.

He smiled, leaning close. His nose lightly rubbed against yours. “I said I would show you what I think of your gown.” His lip grazed yours even though you frowned.

“You really don’t like it?”

“I think it’s lovely.” He smiled. “I just think it will look even better pooled at your feet.”

Loki’s mouth crashed into yours. His tongue demanding. You kissed him back, pulling against the hands of the doppelganger with the instinct to reach for him. Loki pulled back with a wide smile. He teased your collarbone with the edge of the blade. Your teeth pulled at your lower lip as he cut through another section of your gown.

He chuckled deep as he felt your heartbeat pick up. He leaned close, caressing the edge of your ear with his tongue. “Excited, my pet?”

“Yes.” You breathed.

“Mmm, good.”

Loki continued to touch you with the blade. Its cold steel kissed the skin of your neck, your shoulder. He used a bit more pressure every so often, making you gasp. A thrill of fear stirred up butterflies in your stomach even though you knew he would never actually hurt you.

More fabric fell away under the blade's sharp edge to fully expose your shoulder. Loki painted the newly exposed skin with wet kisses. You whimpered, wanting more, wanting to touch him.

He chuckled, and the doppelganger pulled your arms further back. Breast thrust forward, you panted hard as he flicked off little gems with the tip of the dagger. “Not much left. Let’s see if I’m right.”

Loki slashed out, making you squeak. The gown fell from your shoulders, slipped past your hips and pooled on the floor. He stepped back to admire you, now held tight by his double. You stood bare-breasted and wearing only lace underwear, stockings, and heels.

“Much better.” Loki leaned forward. His mouth sucked upon your nipple. You whined. He flicked his tongue over the now-hard nipple before sucking one last time with painful intensity.

“Oh, god!” Your knee weakened and you leaned back into the doppelganger.

Loki gave your other breast equal attention. He moved his mouth to your ear. “This need to go too.”

You felt the blade touch your belly. You whined as it slipped beneath the lace. Sharp cool metal touched hot skin. He teased and you fought to hold perfectly still. You couldn’t see the blade, so your focus locked on Loki’s erection, hidden beneath the black silk.

“I can smell how wet you are.” Loki purred. “Do you want to feel my cock instead of my blade?”

“Yes, Loki.” You nodded, desperate to reach for him. “Please.”

Loki pulled the dagger through the lace, leaving you fully exposed. It disappeared from his hand. His fingers slid between your legs, fingers spreading your wetness and teasing your clit. Your hips rocked into his hand. He slipped two fingers in, stroking. Your breath became more ragged as heat swirl low.

The doppelganger pulled you tight against him as he leaned back. You naked back pressed into his chest. You could feel the fabric of his suit. It lifted you nearly off your toes. Still, Loki stroked and teased your sex causing you to shake under his touch.

In a shimmer of green, Loki’s lounge pants vanished. He lifted your leg, pulling you close enough to slide the head of his cock along your entrance. He teased, not letting you rock into him. “Please, Loki.”

He sank deep. You moaned, throwing your head back against the double behind you. Loki, hooked your legs over his arms. Thrusting powerfully, he groaned as his watched himself slide in and out of your stretched cunt. “Look at that.”

So hot. You were at his mercy, couldn’t move, and so you just surrendered to the sensations. The smell of sex and Loki. Held tight. So full. Your thighs quivered. His cock hit you just perfectly. “God, Loki!”

He leaned forward, pulling at your lip with his teeth before kissing you deep. “Feel so good, my pet.”

You panted, shaking more, careening towards the abyss. He fucked you harder, faster. The world whited out. He pushed deep as you flooded over his cock. Soon he roared his own release.

He pulled you into his arms, the doppelganger forgotten, and carried you the bed. Lazily you curled against him. Your eyes drift toward the mirror only to see the gown, intact, and hanging.

“You fixed it.” You mumbled against his chest.

“I said it’s lovely.” He pressed his lips to your hair.

Want more? Check out my Master List.

#Kinktober #Loki smut #Loki x reader #Loki fanfic #Loki fic

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lincolndjarin · 9 months

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter three : the smitten paladin (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 4.6k

summary : reader does some reading

warnings, etc. : language, sexual fantasy, masturbation

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

You’re starting to think the planet isn’t the reason you’re so hot all the time.

You had woken up this morning feeling a bit better than you thought you’d be, your stomach is full of butterflies but you're still standing and considering the night you had you’re gonna take that as a win. Elaine and Lysa both seemed to sense that you were back in slightly better spirits and Lysa doesn’t bother to ask as she fetches you a dress that isn’t blue. You want to protest when she emerges from the closet with a simple green gown but you bite your tongue. Maybe he’ll like it.

You don’t care. Why should you care? Why the hell are you already sweating? Nothing has changed. He did one nice thing for you, so you forgive him. But you still don’t care.

Well… you care enough to ask them to leave your hair down, which they do. And you care enough to ask them to leave your face alone. (Save for some thin golden eyeliner.) You dismiss the girls with a thank you and give yourself just a moment alone.

You’re going to have a normal day. Not a great day, and not a good day. Just a normal day. You are going to go to the library today and you’re going to read. And you are going to talk to the Mandalorian. You are going to patch things up. Oh gods, what if he doesn’t want to patch things up? What if he thinks you’re just some unstable, bellyaching princess? Stop caring what he thinks. Normal day. Just go out there before he comes in here.

You take the book he had given you and you tuck it under your arm as you go out to greet him. As expected, he is there, just outside the door, and as expected he doesn’t speak first, so you do it instead.

“Good morning, Mando.”

He takes his time, observing your mood, his visor trained on you. You suddenly feel feverish.

“Morning, princess.” His voice is careful, almost like he’s testing the waters. You don’t know how to tell him you aren’t mad anymore, or that you’re okay now. You’re pretty sure both are true. So you just head towards the library.

“Come on sparkles.” Is all you say as you start walking. The silence isn’t necessarily comfortable but at least it feels bearable. Once there you settle into your familiar positions, you, seated in the reading nook, him, pulling up a chair across from you. You hopelessly want to say something but you don’t want to come off as desperate, and honestly you’re so anxious at this point you’re worried you’ll throw up if you try to speak. So you take out the book, making sure he can see the cover. Hoping he takes it as a peace offering, you pick it up from chapter two, where you’d left off after last night. And that is how you stay for several hours.

You read, flipping through the chapters of what ends up being a pretty corny book. It’s a predictable tale of forbidden love, the daughter of a blacksmith falling in love with a knight, blah blah blah, a little dull but entertaining enough to keep your attention for the most part. So much so that you’re able to completely forget that your every move is being watched.

Almost.

Because you get to chapter six, and suddenly, the book is… raunchier than you expected it to be.

And it’s sweltering in the library out of nowhere and you’re pretty sure you can’t blame Naboo this time.

You’re hyper aware of him now.

That he’s watching you. Well he’s always watching you, always has been, but now you can’t stop thinking about it because you’re sitting here, reading porn, and he’s sitting there, watching you.

You should close the book, take a break, get some water.

But you don’t.

Because suddenly the book is kind of good. For some reason you’re suddenly engrossed by the story of Oskar and Dorthea. That’s what you tell yourself. That you are captivated by the storytelling, not the way Oskar’s large hands are currently clutching Dorthea’s heaving bosom. You wonder if Oskar is wearing gloves when he does it. You should stop reading.

You can’t do this.

But… you have been neglecting certain urges of yours since arriving on Naboo. And now it’s been over three weeks and to say that you’re pent up would be putting it lightly.

So what’s the harm in reading something a little risqué? It’s not like you’re doing anything wrong, after all life as a newlywed wasn't exactly going the way you thought it would, so maybe this would help relieve a little bit of the stress that you’re very obviously suffering from at this point. So you allow yourself to read on, and everything is fine until she starts taking off his armor, because you can see a certain armor wearing nuisance sitting just over the top of your book. You start imagining it before you can stop yourself and the all too familiar heat washes over you.

This is the part where you remind yourself to stop.

Or…

You could indulge, just this once. There’s nothing wrong with that, an innocent little fantasy. It will help you enjoy your book more if you imagine the characters more clearly. And it’s so easy after that, to imagine Oskar the paladin in Beskar, funnily enough he really does remind you of Mando. He’s sarcastic and he’s witty but he is also rather gentle with the blacksmith's daughter when he needs to be.

He’s also quite rough with her when he needs to be.

You can’t help but wonder if Mando is similar to Oskar in that regard as well.

Okay you definitely can’t do this.

Unless of course you��re thinking about Oskar. There’s nothing wrong with that. He isn’t real. You can fantasize about him and it would be perfectly acceptable. You should do that instead. Fantasize about the not real character in your book and not on the very real Mandalorian sitting several feet away from you.

Just for a minute. Just to help relieve some of the tension that has been building in your body for weeks now. This is the smart and healthy thing to do, lest it spiral completely out of control. This is a good thing, this will dissipate the fog that has been clouding your judgment.

So you think about Oskar. Just Oskar. Stare at the pages of your book and think about Oskar. Tall, dark, and handsome Oskar.

He’s probably downright barbaric with it. Probably takes what he wants, he’s such a jackass. You bet he gives it just as hard as he takes it though, that overconfident prick probably loves it when you just fall to pieces for him.

Not you.

Dorthea.

Not him.

Oskar.

Think about Oskar.

Is he vocal? He’s always so quiet but when he does talk it’s like he can’t shut up. You get the sense that he likes feeling smarter than you. Or whoever it is you’re imaging in this scenario. He’d probably be just as rude in the bedroom. Just absolutely wreck you and then call you sweet names and his words would be kind and warm but he would use that condescending tone he uses when he knows he’s winning, and he’s always winning. You hate that he’s always winning, maybe you should come up with some rehearsed comebacks. Or would that be lame? He’d probably see right through that.

Oskar. You’re thinking about Oskar.

For Makers sake think about Oskar.

Oskar probably doesn’t have the patience to undo Dorthea’s complicated dresses. He probably just rips them right off of her, Oskar probably doesn’t even take the time to remove his helmet. For no reason in particular. He probably leaves it on, too consumed by his feral, untamed, need to ravage her. To devour her entirely with his hands, his stupid, pointlessly, gloved hands. He might lift the helmet enough just to bite the fingertips of the gloves to rip them off as swiftly as possible. Or maybe he’d let you- Dorthea , sink her teeth into them, make her remove them.

It’s unbearably hot now, and people sweat when they get hot.

That’s what you tell yourself when you feel a wetness pooling in a place you cannot think about right now lest you tear your dress off right here in front of him in the library to deal with it.

He could push you up against the shelves, no one ever comes in here. He could bend you over the reading nook you were currently sitting atop, or you could just join him in that chair, stare down into his visor and let him know who’s in charge.

Because you hate him. Obviously.

You want to be in charge because you know he’d detest that. You want to watch him melt in your hands, beg you for more. That’s the only reason. To see him reduced to nothing but a man, not this statue of steel and wit that he is constantly portraying. Just a man, you want to be the one thing on this entire stupid planet that makes him nothing but a man.

You definitely aren’t thinking about Oskar right now.

This doesn’t mean anything.

Stars, what has gotten into you today? You need to get laid. That’s gotta be it. Back on Hoth you were a princess without a husband, it was easy to find boys in your colony who would happily bed you whenever you desired. But not here, here you have a husband who won’t bed you, (thank the gods.) and an unbearable bodyguard who you can’t even see the face of so Maker why can’t you stop thinking about him. You could go to the market in the city, probably find a vibrator or something pretty easily. But you’re the princess of a very respected royal family now, you can’t exactly go strolling into a sex shop in broad daylight. And then of course there’s the Mando of it all. You can’t help but wonder what his reaction to that would be, would he follow you into that kind of establishment? He’d have to, right? He’s followed you everywhere else. What would he think if he saw you buying yourself a toy to keep you company? He has to know at this point that Kodo isn’t exactly satisfying your needs. He has to understand that you have needs, most people have needs. Does Mando have needs?

Does he ever think about your needs when he’s satisfying his?

Don’t.

You have to say it to yourself now.

Your face is surely bright red at this point, you consider if that’s something he likes. Does he like how easily riled up you are? How flustered you get at just the thought of him? Okay you were certainly overindulging at this point. You had to stop, there has to be a line and that line certainly is imagining what he might find attractive.

“Why don’t you try sounding it out.” He catches you off guard, unmoving as he speaks.

“What?” Maker, are you panting? Pull yourself together woman.

“I assume you’re stuck on a word, you’ve been on that page for nearly 15 minutes. Try sounding it out.”

Usually this behavior from him is the perfect thing to stop any untoward thoughts. Why isn’t it working? Why do you suddenly wanna shut him up in a completely different way?

“You’re a funny guy, have you considered being a comedian or do you just really like being a glorified babysitter?”

“I really like being a glorified babysitter.” He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. You loathe him.

“Lucky you.”

“Lucky me.”

At least things are okay between you two. Things seem okay. This is normal. There’s a relief to be found in knowing that your relationship, (albeit antagonistic) seems to be repaired. That is until he of course has to ruin it by opening his mouth.

“How’s the book?”

Great.

“It’s good. Thank you for returning it to me…”

“Of course.” You hope he’ll drop it but it’s him so of course he doesn’t. “What’s it about?” You can hear the faux innocence practically dripping through the modulator. There’s no way he’s actually doing this.

“I don’t think you’d like it.”

“Why not? You have no idea what I like.”

Okay this has gone from inappropriate to downright intimate. What's his end goal here? You know that he can’t seriously be doing this. Maybe he’s playing some sort of game with you? Maybe he’s playing a game of chicken, if that’s the case then you certainly aren’t going to lose, and let him win? Hell no.

“It might be a little too intense for you.” You raise a single eyebrow, his move.

“Oh really? How so?” He leans back in the chair now. For Makers sake does he have to spread his legs so obscenely wide.

“Isn’t there some kind of Mandalorian vow of celibacy?” You have no idea but you plaster a naive look on your face.

“Nothing in the creed about that, princess.” How does he make the word princess sound so vulgar? Why is there a rush of molten heat through your veins when you find out he isn’t celibate.

This doesn’t mean anything.

“Oh? But I thought you weren’t allowed to take the armor off?” This shouldn’t make you perspire as much as you are. You aren’t doing anything wrong, you’re having a conversation, it’s not like you’re cheating on your husband by having a conversation.

“Just the helmet.” You knew that, of course, but it’s still a shame. You’d love to give his mouth something to do other than taunt you.

You need to get out of this library.

“Oh.” Great quick thinking. Real impressive comeback you moron.

“So?”

“So…?”

“The book, what’s it about?”

Of course he isn’t going to drop this. You should lie, this conversation can escalate very quickly if you’re not careful and considering how close you are to sticking your hand up your dress right here in front of him, you better be careful.

“It’s a cute little love story about a girl and a knight.”

He hums softly like he’s considering something while you consider lobbing the book at his head.

“Sounds charming.” Not a good sign that you can hear the derisive tone through the modulator already. “So what are you stuck on?”

Your eyes meet the page you’d left open while you were daydreaming, you manage to keep a straight face but you’re not exactly sure how you’re gonna ad-lib your way out of this seeing as Dorthea is currently bent over a hay bale in the stables and Oskar is currently “thrusting his pulsing member into her damp maidenhood.” Maker, this book is garbage.

You know what, why not push back? He always manages to tease you into silence or reduce you to a stuttering blushing mess, so why not grab at this chance to get the upper hand? He’s not the only one who can catch people off guard.

“I wasn’t really stuck on anything… I suppose I was just trying to figure out how he fits it all in there?” You hold out the book at arms length and turn it ninety degrees. It isn’t a picture book but you still think it’s a bit funny to furrow your brow and pretend.

It works, he’s silent. Too silent, you worry you’ve gone too far again but after a few beats the modulator crackles to life once more.

“Didn’t realize the book had pictures, I must have missed them.” He crosses his arms and tilts his head ever so slightly.

Dank farrik. Why couldn’t you go one conversation without him dropping some ridiculous bomb that makes you look like an idiot, it’s like he’s dedicating his days to outsmarting you rather than protecting you. More importantly, you need to address the bantha in the room.

“You read this?” You don’t bother hiding the disbelief on your face, he already knows he’s got you so what's the point.

“You’re not the only one who’s bored, princess, when you’re alone, I’m alone with you. One of the many perks of silently standing behind you all the time. Someone had to go clean up the books you dropped, thought I’d give one of them a read.” You can’t believe this.

“So you’ve read The Smitten Paladin? ” The confusion muddling your brain right now is downright overwhelming, worst of all is now you can’t stop thinking about him reading the filth you’ve been enjoying.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell you how it ends.”

Maker, you want to chuck the book at him so bad right now, but you know it won’t stop his smug tone that fills the air between you. You need to get out, you need to be in your chambers and far, far away from the obnoxious, egotistical, self-righteous Mandalorian. So you stand up and close the book and start walking, of course he’s fluid in the way he matches you, almost like he anticipated your departure.

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to spoil the happy ending.” Is all you can mutter out as you make haste towards your chambers, refusing to look at him the entire way.

This doesn’t mean anything. ✩

You cannot lock your door fast enough. You don’t bother turning on any lamps, you just collapse down on the edge of the bed and hike your dress up, no sense in wasting half an hour trying to get it off, not when there are far more important matters to attend to regarding getting off.

You waste no time shoving your hand down the front of you underwear, you’ve never been so thankful for all of the layers in your gowns because you’re soaked through your panties, you’re fingers are small and nimble so you easily swipe two digits through your folds, scooping up a bit of your wetness, back already arching as you just say fuck it and bury both fingers into your cunt.

The shaky sigh that leaves your lips is downright pornographic. Three weeks of pent up frustration all crashing down on you now as you bring your other hand up to cover your mouth, you start grinding against your palm, haphazardly doing everything in your power to put some friction against your swollen clit. Your hand can’t muffle your moans entirely as you curl your fingers against that spot that makes you sob into your wrist, you bite down onto the meat of your palm just below your thumb but you can’t stop the noises that slip from you as you curl your fingers a bit faster, thrusting them in and out of your drenched hole.

You wish your fingers were thicker, there’s barely any stretch with how small yours are, you can hit all the spots you need to push yourself towards that delectable edge but you can’t help but crave a little more. You don’t even bother trying to stop the inevitable, you’re too far gone at this point. Might as well let your mind wander to what it needs to to finish the job.

After all, it doesn’t mean anything.

How long does he wait outside your door before dismissing himself? With his helmet’s capabilities he could certainly hear what’s going on in here, is he out there right now? Eavesdropping as you fuck your own hand. Is he straining against his flight suit as he stands on the other side of that wall. Acting like he’s there to defend you when in reality he just wants to listen in, give himself to think about later. Or is he just palming himself through his trousers, not wanting to wait.

Realistically he went back to his own chambers the moment you closed the door.

You might be giving yourself a little too much credit but it’s your fantasy so you get to think whatever you need to get you there. Like why is the helmet kind of hot now? Was it always hot or are you just really horny right now? There’s just something so erotic about not being able to see his face, not being able to read his emotions behind the steel facade he puts up. He’s got so many utilities and attachments, it must be hard to get through all the layers. Might be nice if he left most of it on, took off just enough to get the job done. Does he have cuffs? If he’s an ex-bounty hunter he probably has cuffs. You know he has a blaster and a bunch of other weapons you don��t fully understand, you kind of wish someone would ambush you just so you could see him in action. Honestly he’s so terrifying to most people you’re pretty sure you might go your entire life without being attacked. He definitely has cuffs. He could storm in right now, cuff your hands above your head and finish what you started.

His fingers would probably work better than yours. You rock your hips down against your hand now as you can feel yourself slipping just the tiniest bit closer to that edge. You haven’t seen his hands but you can imagine. Even without the gloves just one of his fingers was probably as thick as the two you were working in and out of yourself currently.

Maker, with the gloves on he would probably have to work to get just one finger inside you.

You cum embarrassingly fast at the thought. It actually catches you off guard as you grind your palm against your clit just so and you’re seeing stars, soaking your already drenched panties as you withdraw your hand and collapse in a heap onto the bed, wiping your fingers off on the sheets. (You don’t sleep in this bed anyway so who cares.)

You decide it’s best to ignore anything you thought about in your sex-crazed state. You can’t be held accountable for anything you think of to get yourself across the finish line, you aren’t yourself in those circumstances.

It doesn’t mean anything.

It can’t mean anything.

Minds wander, people think of all sorts of things when they’re blinded by lust. Hell, back home you’d once thought about a medical droid to get you there.

So it doesn’t matter.

And it certainly doesn’t mean anything, you were pent up, you see him all the time, now that you’ve taken care of it, it won’t happen again.

Now that you’ve taken care of that you’re sure you’ll be back to normal, no more day dreaming about unattainable men who you despise. You close your eyes for a few minutes. Chest heaving as you struggle to fully recover from your hasty orgasm.

You give yourself some time to just lay like that, eyes closed, trying to steady your breath, you probably shouldn’t sleep, you haven’t gone to dinner yet but after such a shamefully swift and powerful climax you're positively drained. (Literally and figuratively.) So it won’t kill you to close your eyes for a few minutes.

You don’t know how much time passes but before you even know what’s happening you're standing in front of the mirror, hair disheveled.

You can’t get your dress off, can’t twist your arms behind you to reach the corset laces. You don’t want to wake Elaine or Lysa, you aren’t sure how late it is but you just can’t seem to unlace the bodice by yourself, you’re considering just sleeping in the infernal thing at this point. In your struggle you don’t hear the door open but you watch in the mirror as a familiar silver figure envelops you. How long had he been out there? What the hell was he doing here at this time of night?

“You look like you need a little help there princess.” The familiar crackle of the modulator consumes your senses, watching in the reflection of the mirror you can see the slow and deliberate removal of his gloves as he undoes your bodice, with a practiced agility. Everything is fuzzy. You want so badly to drink in every part of him that he is willing to give to you but it’s almost too much for your brain to comprehend right now. He takes his time with it, like he’s drawing it out. Tenderly pulling every string loose until you can slip out of the gown with ease.

You let it fall to the ground.

He stares at you in your reflection, his large bare hands wrap themselves around your exposed midriff as you’re left only in your undergarments for his eyes to devour. He’s so leisurely about it, not wanting to miss an inch. His fingertips dance across the bare skin of your stomach, it takes every ounce of restraint in you to not arch yourself back against him, you can’t stand the way he makes you want to throw your dignity to the wind. With the two of you facing the mirror like this you can see everything. His thumb begins to stroke the lace of your bra ever so slightly while his other hand skims against your sternum. His touches were so light that if you weren’t having a physical reaction to them you wouldn’t even be truly sure he was touching you at all.

“Did you wear that pretty dress for me, princess?” Maker, you must have died and gone to heaven. His voice, his stupid voice. His stupid gravely voice that left you weak in the knees no matter how often you heard it. “You looked so good, I knew you’d wear green today, so eager to please me…” The baritone of it goes straight to your core, and speaking of straight to your core, his left hand is traveling downwards ever so gradually. “Tell me what it is you want.”

You suppose this is it, moment of truth. He wants to hear what you have to say. You could tell him to fuck off, right here, right now. And honestly you’re positive he would leave if you told him to. You’re married, unhappily. But that doesn’t make this okay. Nothing could make this okay. Except for the way his hands clamp down on your waist just hard enough to make you whine but not hard enough to bruise. Well, that’s enough to cloud your judgment enough to make this okay.

“Tell me.” His palms begin to knead the soft flesh of your abdomen and you swear the sensation of that alone has him groaning and rutting against you from behind.

This view is obscene, watching him grope you. It’s a real spectacle he’s making, holding you up on your shaky knees in front of the floor length mirror so you can see everything he’s doing to your body.

“Use your words, princess. Speak up.” You didn’t think his voice could get more husky; he's practically growling. It’s a good thing he’s supporting you slightly because his words make your knees buckle.

Oh he loves this, loves having you so unraveled by him that you can’t even tell him what you so desperately need from him. You can feel just how much he loves this against your lower back right now.

“I want to hear you say it, sarad'ika. ” And that’s all it takes to break your resolve. Those two words you couldn’t remember no matter how hard you tried, trickling out of his modulator and you’re willing to surrender to the feelings you’ve been fighting for longer than you’d like to admit. So you say it, you admit it out loud for the first time. You admit it to yourself for the first time.

“You. I want you. ”

And you wake up. Still in your dress, still laying on the edge of your bed, still alone.

Fuck.

Well, that might mean something.

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 2 years

Text

Have You No Idea That You’re In Deep? [Chapter 1: Moonstone]

Aemond is a fearless, enigmatic prince and the most renowned dragonrider of the Greens. You are a (newly widowed) daughter of House Mormont and a lady-in-waiting to Princess Helaena. You can’t ignore each other, even though you probably should. In fact, you might have found a love worth killing for.

This series begins approximately 1 year before the events of Season 1, Episode 8.

Song inspiration: “Do I Wanna Know?” by Arctic Monkeys.

Chapter warnings: Language, truly unhinged flirting, low-level witchcraft, mentions of death and violence, some sexual references.

Word count: 3k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

He changes every room he walks into; he drags your eyes to him like the sea swallows anchors.

You’re lacing up the back of Helaena’s gown—a rose gold color, free-flowing and feminine and delicate, just like she is—when the prince enters her chambers. You know it’s him without needing to look; you would recognize the rhythm of his steps anywhere. It’s a terribly intimate thing to know about a person you’ve never properly spoken to.

“Aemond!” Helaena chirps, beaming, opening her arms to embrace him.

With abruptly shaky, ungainly hands, you rush to finish lacing the dress and then retreat to the other side of the room. You busy yourself with reorganizing Helaena’s vanity as she climbs onto her tiptoes to throw her arms around Aemond’s neck. He is not one for sentimental displays of affection, but he tolerates this for her sake. He has a soft spot for her. When you steal a glimpse of them, Aemond’s glacial blue eye lands on you and then darts away.

“Come, brother, sit with me,” Helaena says excitedly, pointing to her table surrounded by four chairs. Aemond yanks one out and plunks down, swinging his boots up onto the table. He has positioned himself so that you are standing on his good side, so that he could watch you if he wanted to. Surely this is a coincidence. “How was your sparring with Sir Criston?”

“Satisfactory. How are the insects?”

“Oh, let me tell you!” Helaena produces a large wire cage from under the table. Aemond smirks as if he’s trying to figure out how life brought him to this moment. You have been Helaena’s lady-in-waiting for a full month now, and her younger brother is a constant fixture of her routine. At first, he appeared about once a day; now, it’s at least thrice. Sometimes he materializes for seemingly no reason at all, makes a few unurgent inquiries, does a lap or two around the room, and then leaves as unceremoniously as he arrived. Now, he listens politely as Helaena describes each tiny captive creature to him in excruciating detail: the beetles, the crickets, the butterflies, the saintly praying mantis. Once or twice, Aemond seems to glance over at you. It’s hard to tell for sure because you’re committing your full faculties to not staring at him. It is sort of working. You tug at the moonstone pendant you always wear—the one your mother gave you—trying to distract yourself.

“Lady Mormont,” Helaena says. Now she has the praying mantis in her hands and is letting it creep back and forth across her knuckles. “Is there any wine?”

You bring the pitcher to the table and fill two jeweled cups with a sleek, dark, red liquid like blood.

“Thank you, my love!” Helaena trills as you serve her first. She grasps the massive cup with both hands like a child. You aren’t sure how Hightower and Targaryen flesh melded to create something as blameless and benign as Helaena, but you’re certainly glad that they did.

You offer the prince his cup while peering demurely down at the table, determined not to look at him, petrified that once you begin you’ll never be able to stop. He doesn’t take it. You wait, and wait, and wait, holding the cup in midair. Helaena slurps her wine, breaking the laden silence. At last, your eyes meet Aemond’s; and sure enough, then you’re trapped there. It’s only a second or two, but it feels like a lifetime. He’s so beautiful it hurts, it quarries empty places into your bones that scream to be filled. The prince smiles victoriously and plucks the cup from your hand.

“And one for you too, I think,” he says in his low, commanding voice.

“For me?”

“Yes, you.” He takes a swig of his wine and pulls out the chair on his good side. Helaena watches, half-amused and half-puzzled. The praying mantis is now perched on her shoulder, pondering the scene with bulging, unnerving green eyes.

You pour yourself a cup and sit reluctantly beside Aemond. He studies you like you’re a painting or a sculpture or a tapestry, taking in every line and shadow. In truth, it is not ordinarily in your nature to be reserved; you are a Mormont, you were raised to be bold and courageous and self-reliant. It is something you’ve always been proud of. It is the reason why Queen Alicent thought you’d make an excellent companion for Helaena. And yet…here with the prince…you aren’t sure what he wants from you. You so desperately don’t want to disappoint him.

“I know you,” he says at last. In the meantime, Helaena has fetched a deck of playing cards. The praying mantis is still hovering vigilantly on her shoulder. “You’re Lady Y/N Mormont. But that’s what everyone calls you. That’s what my dear sister and my mother and all the people of the court call you.” He gestures with his cup, like he’s referring to the entire world outside of this exchange, this moment. “What am I going to call you?” He considers this…and then his eye flicks down to your pendant. “Moonstone,” he decides. His gaze is mischievous, baiting. And immediately, you realize what he wants. This is sparring, just with words instead of blades. He is giving you permission to be bold. He is giving you permission to be exactly who you are.

“And what shall I call you?” you reply. “Lanky Boy? Eyepatch? Silver Hair?”

Helaena covers her mouth with her hand and winces. No one ever mentions the prince’s maiming in his presence…although you’ve heard plenty of people mutter about ‘Aemond One-Eye’ behind his back. Miraculously, he is not offended. “Just Silver,” he says with a sly, crooked smile. “It’s sharper, it’s cleaner. It could be the name of a sword.”

“See, this is why you frighten people. Because you say deranged things like that.”

“Do I frighten you?”

“No,” you say honestly. He doesn’t. Sometimes it frightens you how much you want him, but that’s all.

Aemond seems to like this. His smile becomes a grin, toothy like a dragon’s. “Come. Play cards with us.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Oh, please, won’t you play?” Helaena pleads. “It’s so much better with three. Three is a number of power.”

“There, it’s decided, you cannot refuse your lady,” the prince says. He deals out the cards with precise, powerful hands. “Tell me, Moonstone, how did you come to King’s Landing? You were married to some Hightower, were you not? Some distant relation. Very distant. Practically a nobody.”

You nod as you collect your cards and plot your next move. “I married Axel Hightower almost exactly one year ago. My father arranged it, he and Axel’s father had met while fighting in the Stepstones as young men and kept up correspondence.”

“Yet this was an ill-fated union, I gather. How did your husband die?”

“He was leading a trade mission and his ship sank in the Sunset Sea, gods rest his soul.”

“My condolences. How tragic. And not even a body to lay to rest?”

“The currents are terribly rough there. They found a few pieces of the wreckage and that’s all.”

“Do you still mourn him?” Aemond asks, and observes you with particular interest.

You debate this for a while before you answer. “I…regret that he lost his life and that his family is deprived of his company. But I wouldn’t say that ours was any great love story.”

“But you did fuck him,” Aemond says. Helaena blanches and gapes at him, scandalized. He shows the palm of his right hand in contrition. “Forgive me.”

You are delighted to prove that you aren’t rattled by his question. “Of course, as was required.”

“And did you find pleasure in it? He wasn’t a brute to you, was he?”

“Not a brute,” you say. “There was some pleasure in it.” You smile roguishly at the prince. For once, he seems caught off-guard; he doesn’t know where you’re going with this. “Not as much pleasure as I might have found with a different sort of man, perhaps.”

“Hm.” The prince shifts in his chair and clears his throat. “No children?”

“None,” you agree softly. This is a bit of a sore subject; to be married for nearly a year without conceiving does not bode well for your ability to bear children, a prerequisite for most advantageous marriages.

The prince pivots. “So he bored you, this Axel Hightower. He couldn’t keep up with you.”

“He was pleasant enough. We spoke about the weather and the price of wheat, things like that. Though I did quite enjoy cheering for him during tourneys.”

“Tourneys!” Aemond groans.

Helaena giggles. “He hates tourneys. Though he’d have wicked luck if he ever tried them.”

“They’re frivolous. They’re for cowards who can’t prove themselves in a real battle.” The prince lays down his cards on the table. You and Helaena follow suit. When he sees yours, his mouth falls open. “What…?”

“Not used to losing, Silver?” you tease.

He laughs, incredulous, immeasurably pleased, his eye glinting. He seizes all the cards and reshuffles them. “So you weren’t in a hurry to return to Bear Island after your husband’s untimely death? Well, who could blame you.”

“My father didn’t want me back.”

The prince’s brow furrows as he deals out the cards. “That seems unlikely.”

“He has eight other children and a brand new wife who’s my age to keep him occupied. He’s barely aware of my existence these days, I assure you.”

“I’m sorry,” Aemond says gently.

“Don’t be. It’s not him I miss, nor Bear Island. There’s nothing for me there anymore. My mother…” Fleetingly, instinctively, you clasp your pendant and then drop it. “She died six months ago. In childbirth. They lost the baby too.” You feel your throat tightening, burning…and then you compose yourself. The prince is watching you intently. “After Axel died, his father wrote to his cousin the queen and asked if she had any use for me, and she thought I’d make a fine lady-in-waiting because…well, you know…” You nod subtly to Helaena.

“Because you’re a Mormont,” the prince says, strangely proud. “Because you’re steady and tough and pragmatic and worldly.” Everything my sister is not, he means.

“Exactly.” Wine is sipped. Cards slip from one hand to another. Helaena’s praying mantis is now on top of her head, stepping carefully over her snow-white hair. The servants come in to light the fireplace for the evening and then vanish again, but not before casting wide-eyed, wary stares at the prince. He mystifies them. He terrifies them.

“And so you find yourself here, in our service,” Aemond muses, passing you a card. “Can I ask you just one more impolite question?”

“You can ask her anything,” Helaena murmurs dreamily, and you both turn to her. The praying mantis bobs idiotically on her head. You hate her insects, though you try not to show it.

“Yes,” you tell the prince when you recover.

“What do you think of my loathsome half-sister Rhaenyra Targaryen, plotting her life away up in Dragonstone?”

You ponder your cards. “I feel sorry for her. That she is so maligned, that King Viserys’ affection for her has brought her so much hardship and acrimony and judgement. But she is the king’s choice. There is no denying it.”

Aemond is disappointed in you. “Her heirs are bastards.”

“Of course they are. Everyone knows they are.”

“And yet you don’t find that to be disqualifying?”

“I don’t think it really matters,” you confess. “The king chose Alicent Hightowner as his mate and companion—despite her distinct lack of silver hair or affinity for dragons—and yet their children are no less Targaryens. If Rhaenyra chose Harwin Strong, what is the difference? Her children are equals to you. They are half-Targaryen and half-not. And as far as I can understand it, their right to the Iron Throne passes uninterrupted through their mother.”

“So you support the Blacks and believe Rhaenyra should sit the Iron Throne.”

“No,” you reply simply, and that’s the truth.

“Why?” the prince asks, searching your face. “Because you still feel some helpless, blind allegiance to my mother’s house? Is it really as banal as that?” Are YOU as banal as that, he means.

You shake your head. “I don’t think the nobility would ever accept Rhaenyra. I don’t think the common people would either. Thus she can be no true queen.”

Now the edges of his lips curl into a ghostly, luring smile. “To challenge her claim would mean war.”

“War resulting from this particular dilemma, I fear, is inevitable.”

“And this doesn’t horrify you? Doesn’t make your blood run cold?”

“No,” you answer. “Battle purifies us, it renews us, just like fire. The worthy will survive.”

He looks at you for a long time before he speaks, the only sound the crackling of the fireplace. “This is dangerous, Moonstone. You are beginning to intrigue me.”

“Just beginning?”

The chamber door flings open and Aegon staggers inside. He has dark racoonish rings around his eyes and his hair is in disarray and he is obviously, pathetically drunk. “There you are!” he cries when he sees his brother. He leans against a marble column so he doesn’t fall over. “Mother is looking for you. She says you are supposed to dine together tonight. She wants to discuss a Baratheon marriage…or was it a Lannister marriage? Some sort of marriage, that’s for sure. To a woman. A human woman. A very wealthy and well-connected human woman.”

Aemond sighs as he places his cards on the table face-down. “Yes, it’s always about a Baratheon or Lannister marriage. Or an Arryn marriage. Or a Stark marriage.”

“Well, hello there, Lady Mormont!” Aegon says, noticing you for the first time. He waves from where he is propped against the column. You bow your head civilly in reply. You’ve heard plenty of gossip about Aegon since arriving in King’s Landing, although he’s never done more to you than make a few unsavory jests. You rebuffed them as rudely as you dared to.

Aemond’s eye scans the two of you and then narrows. “Does he bother you?”

“Hardly,” Aegon objects. “When I bite, she bites back.” He snaps at the air like a rabid dog.

Aemond chuckles. “As she should.” He stands. “Don’t clear the table,” he orders you with mock sternness. “I’ll return after dinner. We have our own little tourney to finish here. I’m coming back.”

“As you wish,” you say, realizing that you miss him already.

When he passes the column where his brother stands, Aemond halts. “You will not harass her,” he says darkly. His hand rests on the hilt of his sword. He towers above Aegon, dwarfing him.

“I certainly won’t,” Aemon hastily agrees. He appraises you, gives you a nod of approval—of acceptance—and spins around to follow Aemond out of the room, lurching and grabbing for walls to steady himself against.

“Now, back in the cage, my love,” Helaena informs her praying mantis as if it were an unruly child. She unlatches the miniature metal door and places the creature inside with the other six-legged captives. Then she asks you: “Is it too warm in here? I know we Targaryens like it hot. But you’re from the North. Perhaps you are sweltering. Perhaps I am torturing you.”

“No, I like the heat as well.” In truth, you’ve been too preoccupied to notice it.

“Good, that’s good. Because there is a great deal of fire in your future.”

You startle. Her words hit you like a fist, like lightning. A cold sweat breaks out on your skin; a shudder claws its way up the rungs of your spine.

But when you ask Helaena what she means, she doesn’t remember saying it at all.

~~~~~~~~~~

Long after nightfall—after Aemond wins two card games and you both conspire to let Helaena win the last, after the prince retires to his own chambers, after you fetch the princess’s nightgown and brush her long white hair and accompanied her to say goodnight to her children, after the Red Keep has fallen quiet under the rising full moon—you sneak unnoticed out of the castle and into the godswood. You take only a small bundle of items with you: a candle, a piece of flint, a dagger with a hilt shaped like the roaring bear of House Mormont, other secrets as well. You walk until you find the heart tree, where the Old Gods can hear you even here, so far from the wild North.

You don’t know if you truly believe in magic, but it makes you feel close to your mother. She gave you these spells, and she gave you knowledge of the Old Gods, in the same way that she gave you the moonstone pendant strung around your neck.

You place the candle—vivid red, the color of passion and willfulness and fire and blood—on an exposed, ancient root of the heart tree and light it by striking flint against the dagger blade. Then you wait until melted wax drips down the candle and seals it to the root. With the small dancing flame, you burn three things to ash: the feather of a dove, the petal of a red rose, and a tiny piece of parchment with two words written on it in red ink: Moonstone, Silver.

“I don’t ask for him to want me,” you murmur to the nameless Old Gods. “I don’t ask to change his heart. His heart is his own. But if…if he does want me…in the same way that I want him…” You close your eyes and clasp your hands together in prayer. The night wind tears through your hair. In the starlit quiet, you can hear the distant rumbles and screams of dragons. “Let us find a way.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd imagine #hotd #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond imagine

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kckt88 · 4 months

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Take My Breath Away III

Summary:

The time has come for Vaeryna and Aemond to get married. A lie is uncovered and truths are told.

Warning(s): Swearing, Angst, Marriage, Consummation - P in V sex, Dubious Consent, Regret, Mentions of Death.

Word Count: 3487

GREENS WIN - SLOW BURN - ENEMIES TO LOVERS.

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Kings Landing was a buzz with activity. The guests were arriving, the preparations had been made and it was finally here. The day Vaeryna and Aemond would stand together in the sept and get married.

Vaeryna was so nervous that she decided to skip breakfast, as she wasn’t sure that she could actually stomach food.

After bathing, Vaeryna’s maids began to help her get ready. Her long silver hair was brushed and twisted into elegant braids, her mother’s Valyrian steel necklace was fastened around her neck, and she placed her father’s gold Targaryen sigil ring on her finger. They couldn’t be with her in person, but they would be with her in spirit.

Now the wedding dress had been an issue from day one, Alicent wanted her to wear some green atrocity and Vaeryna promptly refused and when her soon to be good mother wasn’t looking the dress accidentally landed in the fire.

Alicent of course wasn’t happy, but Vaeryna couldn’t give two shits, and promptly went to the King and asked for his permission to design her own wedding dress, which he readily granted.

In normal circumstances, Vaeryna might have been shocked by the King’s willingness to grant her request, but she quickly came to realise that he just relished in the opportunity to cause trouble.

Perhaps what surprised Vaeryna more, was Aemond. Since their confrontation in her chambers, he’d taken to point blank ignoring her whenever she was in his presence which suited her just fine. But he hadn’t told his mother or Aegon about her relationship with Jace.

He was obviously keeping that little bombshell to himself for a reason and Vaeryna had to be cautious.

But the wedding dress she’d designed was modest, might have displayed a little too much cleavage for Alicent’s taste but Vaeryna wanted the guests to see her mothers necklace and know that Rhaenyra was still amongst them.

Of course, Vaeryna honoured little Jaehaera and had white butterflies stitched into the train of her dress. Some of them, Jaehaera had even stitched herself.

It was hard to believe that sweet little girl was truly Aegon’s daughter, she was entirely Helaena and Vaeryna made a silent vow to her aunt that she would always look out for her little girl.

At the waist of her dress, Vaeryna had dragon scale pattern stitched into the fabric, she of course wanted the guests to know that she was a true dragon. She would not forsake her Targaryen heritage for the seven.

As soon as the gown had been buttoned and her maiden cloak tied. There was a soft knock at the door. It was the King.

“I’ve come to escort you to the sept and walk you down the aisle”.

Vaeryna nodded and took a deep breath as she took Aegon’s arm.

Admittedly the sept was decorated beautifully, but it was Alicent’s expression that really brought a smile to Vaeryna’s face. She looked positively scandalised at the wedding dress she’d chosen.

Aemond was stood beside the high septon. He was elegantly dressed, his black tunic decorated with silver dragons and his Targaryen cloak tied loosely around his shoulders. His long hair tied back in its usual half up, half down style.

The horns signalled the beginning of the ceremony and begrudgingly Vaeryna took Aegon’s arm again.

“You look beautiful, my brother is a lucky man” said Aegon.

“He’s certainly something” muttered Vaeryna.

“Thank you for escorting the bride Your Grace. If you would be so kind as to wait for the Princess to remove her maiden cloak” said the Septon.

Vaeryna undid the ties of her maiden cloak and handed it to Aegon who bowed respectfully to the Septon and resumed his seat next to Alicent.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection” said the Septon loudly.

Aemond removed the cloak bearing the colours of house Targaryen and draped it around Vaeryna’s shoulders.

Aemond then took Vaeryna’s hand and smiled as the Septon tied their hands together by a ribbon.

“In the sight of the seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity. Now you may look upon one another and say these vows together” exclaimed the Septon.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days” said Vaeryna.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am hers and she is mine from this day until the end of my days” declared Aemond loudly.

“The vows have been spoken and the rings exchanged. You may kiss your bride”.

Aemond leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Vaeryna’s lips.

The celebration after their wedding was in full swing.

King Aegon was sat at the head of the table, with a smiling Alicent and Jaehaera by his side.

Vaeryna sat next to Aemond near the head of the table, smiling as many Lords and ladies came up to wish them well and bestow gifts upon them, while also enjoying the food of their feast. Borros Baratheon who glared pointedly at Aemond, Tyland Lannister, and one that seemed to linger, Dalton Greyjoy.

The young lord was similar in age to both Vaeryna and Aemond.

"Many good wishes, Princess Vaeryna. A match many shall pray for a fruitful outcome. I must admit Princess, the tales of your great beauty have not been exaggerated. Your skin is as beautiful as the freshly fallen snows of Winterfell and your eyes are more pretty than anything I’ve ever seen".

Vaeryna shifted uncomfortably in her seat and Aemond scowled.

"Thank you," nodded Vaeryna politely.

A sudden loud roar spooked everyone as Cannibal flew over the Red Keep.

“Ahh yes, your Cannibal. I’ve heard he’s an impressive beast”.

“My Cannibal is not a beast” huffed Vaeryna.

“His ferocious nature is well known. How is it that you managed to claim such a creature?”

“I wouldn’t expect a Greyjoy to understand even the basic fundamentals of how a Targaryen claims a dragon” retorted Vaeryna.

“If you ever find yourself bored of Kings Landing, you can always visit the Iron Islands. I’m sure I can find something else for you to ride” replied Dalton smirking.

Aemond slammed his fist into the table as he rose sharply from his seat.

“You dare speak to my wife like that” snarled Aemond.

“Relax kinslayer. I was only jesting,” laughed Dalton.

SMACK!

Suddenly Dalton Greyjoy crumpled to the ground, clutching his bleeding nose.

“Never speak to me like that again” snarled Vaeryna.

“Y-You broke my nose” exclaimed Dalton.

“A broken nose will be the least of your worries if you do not remove yourself from my sight”.

“Vaeryna” gasped Aemond, his single amethyst eye wide in surprise.

“A kraken is no match for a dragon” exclaimed Vaeryna suddenly becoming aware of everyone staring at her.

“Quite right good sister. More wine I think” declared Aegon loudly as he handed Vaeryna a full goblet of wine and staggered away to get more.

“That was quite impressive” muttered Aemond.

“I am blood of the dragon, and I will not tolerate slanders” said Vaeryna.

“Hm” muttered Aemond.

“I wish to toast my brother Prince Aemond and my good siter Princess Vaeryna on their marriage. May it be long and fruitful” said Aegon loudly as he raised his cup.

“Thank you, Your Grace” said Vaeryna as she bowed respectfully.

“I think it’s time that we retired our chambers” muttered Aemond.

“-Yes brother. Time for the bedding” exclaimed Aegon eagerly.

“Don’t even think about it” snapped Aemond as he took hold of Vaeryna’s arm and marched her out of the Throne Room.

This was the moment that Vaeryna had been dreading. As Aemond had oddly enough refused a traditional bedding ceremony. They were able to walk to their shared chambers without a fuss.

After they had entered their shared chambers, Vaeryna stood in stoney silence as she stared at Aemond, her heart pounding in her chest.

There was no sense in prolonging the inevitable.

“Would you help me with the gown, husband?” asked Vaeryna as she turned from him and swept her hair away from her back to reveal a great number of fiddly buttons and laces.

“Of course,” replied Aemond as he reached forward and began undoing his wife’s wedding gown.

Soon she was stood in nothing but a thin shift and Aemond felt his heart quicken in his chest at the sight of her nipples through the sheer fabric.

This was the moment he’d been waiting for, he believed whole heartedly that Vaeryna belonged to him, she had returned to Kings Landing of her own volition and accepted the terms offered to her.

However, her brazen and openly defiant attitude was unbecoming of a lady, and the way she spoke to him, angered him greatly. She was rude, disrespectful, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

She had invaded his senses, driving him to the point of madness.

But then he discovered her involvement with Jacaerys, and he’d been consumed with anger and jealousy.

He was going to erase the memory of that bastard strong boy and make Vaeryna his.

Aemond began pulling off his own clothes as Vaeryna slowly sat on the bed.

He noticed that she trembled slightly as she pulled off her shift, revealing her naked body to him.

“You’re not afraid, are you?” asked Aemond as he discarded the last of his clothes.

Vaeryna shook her head slightly, avoiding her husband’s gaze.

Aemond placed his hand on Vaeryna’s shoulder and directed her to lay down.

He laid between his wife’s open legs, supporting his weight on his left arm as he reached down and took his hard cock in his hand and placed the tip of it against his wife’s entrance.

Vaeryna shut her eyes tight and took a deep breath as Aemond sheathed himself within her.

Aemond stopped as Vaeryna shrieked loudly in pain. He lifted his head and noticed that she had her eyes screwed shut.

He didn’t understand, she told him she’d bedded Jacaerys.

Aemond then pulled back slightly and looked down, his eye going wide at the blood staining his cock.

“-Y-You’re still a maid?”

Vaeryna didn’t answer she just turned her head to the side, avoiding his gaze.

“You lied to me. Why?” asked Aemond.

“You know why” replied Vaeryna, closing her eyes again as she felt Aemond’s cock twitching inside her.

“I-I can stop. If it’s too much” whispered Aemond.

“Just get on with it” muttered Vaeryna.

“Not if I’m hurting you”.

“Aemond stop being a girl and get on with it. You know as well as I do, that we must do this” snapped Vaeryna.

Aemond moved forward and grimaced at Vaeryna’s whimper of pain.

The tears rolled down Vaeryna’s cheeks as Aemond rutted against her.

All she could think of as Aemond continuously thrust his hard cock into her was Jace. Her first time should have been his, but Aemond had taken it and now she would never get it back.

Aemond gave a surprised moan as she involuntarily clenched around him.

Vaeryna dug her fingers into the sheets, not wanting to touch Aemond as the pace of his thrusts increased.

He buried his face into her neck and let out a long low groan as he spilled his seed inside her.

Eventually Aemond pulled his softened cock from her and sat on the edge of the bed.

Vaeryna rolled to her side and began to cry.

Aemond took his robe that was haphazardly thrown across the back of a chair and pulled it on.

He gazed at Vaeryna’s shaking form and suddenly he felt sick to his stomach, he wanted to erase the memory of Jacaerys, to make her his. But not like this.

He went to the privy and threw up. The wine he’d consumed earlier was now bitter and putrid on his tongue.

The gnawing feeling of disgust swirled in the pit of his stomach as he could still hear the sobs of his wife through the closed door.

He didn’t know how long he’d been in the privy, but when he returned to his chambers, Vaeryna had fallen asleep.

Aemond could see the blood stain on the sheets, and he was filled with bitter regret, he’d been so blinded by his rage and jealousy that he had taken what he wanted and never spared a thought for how she would feel.

If he had known she was still a maid, he would’ve been kinder, he would have prepared her and made sure she was comfortable.

He stood at the foot of the bed for what seemed like an age, simply staring at Vaeryna as she slept.

He once thought that he’d feel delighted at the sight of her tears, especially after she had mocked him for his involvement with Alys, but this wasn’t what he wanted.

As he pulled on a pair of loose breeches, he contemplated sleeping elsewhere but he knew if he did that, word would get back to his mother or the King, so he decided to stay.

After discarding his eyepatch on the nightstand Aemond slowly climbed into the bed and gazed at Vaeryna.

He could still see the faint tracks of dried tears on her face, and with a shaking hand he reached out and gently stroked her cheek.

“I’m sorry” whispered Aemond as he turned over and closed his eye.

The next morning Aemond awoke to the maids setting up breakfast in his chambers.

Aemond groaned as he pressed his face into his pillow, it was the worst night sleep he’d ever had.

“Apologise My Prince, I do not mean to disturb you, but your breakfast is ready”.

“Hm” muttered Aemond as he sat up, his palm pressed to the side of his face.

Once he’d slipped the eyepatch over his head, Aemond looked over his shoulder and frowned as the space Vaeryna had occupied last night was empty.

“Where is my wife?” asked Aemond as he rose from the bed.

“The Princess left early this morning, she’s with her dragon” replied the maid, her gaze lowered to the floor.

Rather than deal with the fall out from the previous night, Vaeryna had chosen to flee and seek solace with her Cannibal.

“Apologise My Prince but I must strip the bed, the sheets need to be presented” muttered the maid.

Of course, the blood and seed stained sheets would need to be displayed as proof that he’d done his duty and consummated the marriage.

Aemond nodded and sat at the table, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat.

He found himself thinking of Vaeryna and he hoped that she was ok, he briefly entertained the notion of mounting Vhagar and seeing if he could find her but he quicky dismissed that idea.

She had obviously fled the Red Keep because she wanted to be alone, and if that’s what she wanted then he would grant her that courtesy at least.

For the rest of the day Aemond tried to distract himself, he attended his usual training session with Ser Criston, but that did nothing to quell the feelings of disgust and uncertainty swirling within him.

He tried to visit the library and spend his usual hour reading, but he could not concentrate, the sound of Vaeryna’s pained whimpers had etched themselves into his mind.

He of course made sure to avoid Aegon at all costs, he couldn’t deal with the teasing japes his brother would no doubt levy against him.

The only place Aemond seemed to have any reprieve from his thoughts was the sept, he knelt at the alter and bowed his head, praying for forgiveness.

He remained on his knees until they began to ache, he figured it was his penance for the pain he’d inflicted upon his wife.

Eventually Aemond returned to his chambers, he’d skipped breakfast and lunch, and now he was starving.

He declined his mothers invite to dine with her and Aegon, claiming he preferred to dine alone with his wife.

Of course, his mother knew that Vaeryna had spent the day with Cannibal, but she didn’t comment further, and he was glad for it. He wasn’t sure he could deal with her lecturing him.

Aemond opened the door to his chambers and came to stop as he spotted Vaeryna sitting at the table.

“I think we need to talk” muttered Vaeryna.

“Yes. We do” replied Aemond as he took a seat across from his wife.

“I didn’t know what food you would like so I just asked the maids to bring everything”.

Despite his hunger, Aemond didn’t reach for any food. That gnawing feeling of uncertainty raising to the surface.

“You were married to Jacaerys?” asked Aemond.

“I was” replied Vaeryna.

“Yet you did not lay with him. Why?”

“We wanted to wait until the war was over, at the time he was still betrothed to Baela, and we couldn’t risk Corlys finding out. Mother needed her alliance with the Velaryon’s. We had this dreamy idea of having a proper ceremony later and then we could be together” said Vaeryna.

“You should have been honest with me”.

“You were angry because you thought I had bedded my brother and yet you seem angry that I didn’t. I thought you would have preferred that I was a maid” replied Vaeryna.

“Had I known I would not have been so careless. I hurt you and I bitterly regret it”.

“Wasn’t that what you wanted-to hurt me?” asked Vaeryna quietly.

“No, despite the fact that you infuriate me beyond all reason, I had no such desire to hurt you” said Aemond sadly.

“I-I’m sorry. I should have told you the truth” muttered Vaeryna.

Aemond simply nodded his head as he reached forward and began to fill his plate with food.

“You said you married Jace in the Vale”.

“Yes, I don’t think the ceremony could be classed as being official. As it was just us” said Vaeryna.

“D-Did you love him?” asked Aemond.

“Yes, I did. Very much” replied Vaeryna.

“Hm”

“Did you love Alys?” asked Vaeryna.

“I thought I did” said Aemond.

“I met her you know”.

“Y-You did?” exclaimed Aemond.

“I flew to Harrenhal just before my father abandoned it and I saw them together”.

“That must have been difficult” muttered Aemond.

“It was, but in truth my mother and father had began to drift apart after Luke’s death and what happened to Jaehaerys-“

“-She knew about it” said Aemond sharply.

“I’m not sure what you were told, but my mother didn’t know about Blood and Cheese until after Jaehaerys was killed, she was lost in her grief for Luke” replied Vaeryna.

Aemond reached for his cup of wine and took a large sip.

“She went to Shipbreaker Bay”.

“What?” asked Aemond.

“After she received word of Luke’s death, she took Syrax and spent hours searching for his body".

“Oh” whispered Aemond, lowering his gaze.

“When you killed him, not only did you commit the gravest of sins, but without Luke’s body, my mother was denied the solace of honouring the traditional customs of a Valyrian funeral”.

“-And that warrants the murder of my nephew?”

“No. It wasn’t the murder of Luke that facilitated your nephews murder, it was the blatant disrespect that Aegon showed by throwing a feast and celebrating what you did. Not to mention you broke the law by killing a messenger. Aegon has the nerve to call himself King, yet he does nothing to uphold the laws of the land. If he had half a brain, he should’ve had you imprisoned and immediately sent his apology to my mother. Yes, you killed my brother, but it was Aegon’s own incompetence that contributed to the death of his son” said Vaeryna.

Aemond sat there stunned to silence as he processed what Vaeryna had just said, and he was ashamed to admit that in part she was right. Throwing a feast to celebrate was not only disrespectful but it made it look like Aegon had authorized Luke’s death.

In all his guilt, anger and regret he never once considered other factors that could have contributed to what happened to his nephew, it was just easier to blame Daemon and Rhaenyra.

“She spoke to me. Alys-I mean” said Vaeryna.

“W-What did she say?” asked Aemond.

“Told me that my silver haired babe would be King one day. Of course, at the time I thought she was referring to a son that I would have with Jace, but now I realize that she was referring to my son with you”

“Do you think that means you are with child?”

“Too soon to tell, but I guess well find out in a few weeks if your seed has taken root or not” said Vaeryna softly.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x oc #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond x original female character #hotd fic #hotd smut #prince aemond #aemond #aemond smut #aemond one eye

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doodlegraveyard · 8 months

Text

Faragonda thoughts 💭 as headmistress and a bonus younger Fara in her enchantix form ✨

I don’t actually feel like getting into my idea for her powers but I’ll let y’all speculate in the mean time

[image description: two sketches of a redesigned headmistress Faragonda from winx. In the first she is a beautiful older light skinned black woman with pale lavender hair swept into an updo, wearing a pale green skirt suit with gigot sleeves and a peplum shaped like a butterfly. The other is her in her prime, an enchantix fairy with multicolored wings, in a pale blue gown with a huge hood and cascading layers of skirts; she has a prosthetic leg of golden clockwork, porcelain, and glass, and wields a staff with a triskelion of gears at its head. End description]

#winx club #winx faragonda #winx redesign #winx fairy #winx alfea

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vetteltea · 7 months

Note

hi congrats on the new blog!! just wanna req smth anything with seb x hamilton! reader when she visits at the same time he was in suzuka for the bee hotels and they hit it off start talking abt their passion for the environment yk

Meant to Bee | SV5

⊳ returning to the paddock with your brother & the beekeeper extraordinaire. [0.7K]

⊳ requests are still open; please send me some stuffs, i need some inspo.

You and your brother had always been close; you had been his biggest supporter for so, so long.

In all the years of following him around paddocks, you’d always picked up friends.

Your favorite has always been Sebastian.

He’d always been warm, caring. Even during his time at Ferrari, he always had a kind word for you and your brother.

Your paddock appearances had dwindled for the last few years; you had finally started University, starting your course as an environmental lawyer.

However, when Lewis had come to you, asking if you’d attend at least one Grand Prix with him this year, you’d cracked.

‘Just…consider it a holiday.” He’d coaxed you out of your University Hall, practically carrying your suitcase for you.

The first few days had been amazing; you’d gone on adventures, sent your mother a photo of you and your brother in the most stupid Nintendo hats.

However, there was a literal buzz in the air when arriving at Suzuka; you’d opted to stay at the hotel on media day for some much needed rest and relaxation, only for your phone to go off whilst receiving a deep tissue massage.

Your brother had sent you a photo, him and a familiar blonde mass of curls.

Sebastian was in Suzuka.

The moment you could, you’d opened up your social media pages, seeing that Sebastian was in fact in the Paddock, setting up bee hotels and looking…insanely handsome whilst doing so.

You miss the following text which comes flying in when you’re back in your hotel room, hair loose around your shoulders and silk dressing gown tied around your middle.

Lewis had told you he was bringing Sebastian back to the hotel for some drinks, but you weren’t aware of this, not until you opened the door to see the two figures standing at the entrance.

“Sebastian!” You don’t even acknowledge your brother, practically jumping into the blondes arms at the joy of seeing him after so long.

You hear his laughter, wrapping his own arms around you, pressing a kiss to your cheek, asking how you had been doing since you’d last seen one another.

After getting changed, the three of you had gone down to the bar in the hotel, a few drinks over catching up on the past few years.

Lewis, being the social butterfly he was, ended up finding Bono and having a drink with him too, whilst you and Sebastian remained comfortable on the couch.

It was nice, relaxed. His arm rested along the back of the sofa, both of you engrossed in conversation as you inched closer together.

He’s amazed when you tell him about your degree, spinning off into a complete tangent about the environment.

You both have such incredible plans for the future, on saving the environment.

He is sitting straight up when you tell him about your final project; how you were planning to create a green energy source in each of the major areas of your University.

He wants to help, he’s instantly asking for details and is promising he’s going to be there, he’ll be there for whatever you need.

The sun is setting, but he moves from his seat, reaching out his hand, insinuating you take it.

‘Come on. I want to show you the bee hotels.’

Of course, Sebastian is a charmer; he works his magic and gets the two of you back into the track, walking you over to turn two.

It’s insane; the fact the entire track had shown up, decorated the hotels. He’s explaining biodiversity to you as you weave in and out of the beehives, still holding his hand.

He knows this, of course. His grip had remained tighter when becoming more passionate. You were back, you were finally back with him, even if only for a race.

“Are you staying for the race?” He asks, "You nodded in response.

“Well…maybe after practice tomorrow, we can grab some dinner? Discuss this a little more?”

“Are you asking me on a date, Sebastian?”

He looks down to where your hands are still entwined, grinning.

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

And of course, you agree. You just…don’t need to tell your brother.

#F1 #Sebastian Vettel #Sebastian Vettel Imagine #Sebastian Vettel x Reader #Sebastian Vettel One Shot #Sebastian Vettel Headcanons #SV5 #Formula 1 #Ferrari #Red Bull

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preettyangels · 1 year

Text

Green dress ☆

Thor x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, alcohol, age gap [thor is obv. pretty old], oral [fem receiving], making out, breast play, pinning

Word count: 1,7k

Summary: y/n craves the feeling of the god of thunder to be with her, to make her feel good, it so happens that he finally catches up and do what she‘s been dreaming of.

A/N: this is my first one-shot to be posted on here, I’m not that good in writing smut as yet, I’m trying to get better <3

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His hands. His veiny, strong hands. His long, thick fingers which are worthy of wielding Mjølnir, they don't leave your mind. Your legs press together at the dirty thoughts popping up in your head, you were needy for the god of thunder to make you scream his name. Watching him flipping his hammer around in the air, catching the handle on his palm before doing the same move again. Your hands fidget with each other inpatient, you needed him here and now, pleasing you and your sensitive parts.

Your heart skipped a beat when you looked directly into the deep blue eyes, feeling how intimidating they were and how they looked deeply into your soul. A smirk appeared on the god's lips when he noticed your pressed legs and your hands covering your midsection, rubbing your palms together in nervousness.

A storm of butterflies mixed with lightning impulses flew around in your lower tummy- this man has a lot of impact on you, and he damn well knew this. His eyes never returned their gaze to somewhere else, they stayed at you, scanning your petite curves up and down and licking his lips at this specific view. Your breast was on display from where on the satin green dress fell down your body, only hanging from your shoulders by golden straps. Your hair was tied up in a beautiful, slick ponytail, some glitter sparkling in the strands from the special hairspray you used. All of this was caught in the god's eyes, not one thing went unnoticed and his stares burnt deeply in your skin.

Slowly, you started shuffling on the brown leather couch you sat on, receiving a rather confused look by the person sitting next to you- Bucky. You awkwardly smiled up to him, containing all your emotions and thoughts and breathed a soft „I'm good" over your lips before returning your attention back to the blonde man who.. disappeared?

Your eyes swift around in a fast move, stopping at blonde locks leaving the room to go upstairs. Your eyes widened, how can he tease you like that, make your body needy like that and then leave?

"I'll use the bathroom quickly" you say, resting your hand on the soldiers shoulder and gifting him a sweet smile of yours before jumping up and following Thor.

Your feet brought you to the direction where he walked past by just seconds ago, but he was nowhere to see-

"M'lady." The sudden voice of the person you've been searching for a few minutes appeared out of a room. Has he been waiting there for you?

Your eyes met his when a vicious smirk appeared on his pink, thin lips.

"As much as i love the gown you're wearing, I'd rather ask you..." he steps closer to you, the storm of butterflies heading back into your stomach, "may I take it off?" Your skin reddened with blush, a shiver ran down your spine and your eyes grew wide just a little bit. You felt your breath hitching through your lungs- for the first time actively.

Your eyes fell down on his lips- god, you wanted to kiss him so bad right here and now, but answering his question before you can, was the better choice to take.

"Y-Yes." You quickly breathed over your lips when you met the blue eyes of his once again, they sparked with a tiny bit of lust. His smirk grew wider.

What the hell is so fucking attractive that he has such an impact on you?

He grabbed your arm and swiftly pulled you inside the bathroom, you let out a surprised groan at his movement. His hand pressed you against the still opened door, closing it with your body weight which made you let out a scoff. Finally, the warmth of his hand touching your skin let a shiver run down your spine and you felt a pulse at your core. A pulse you haven't felt in a long time. His hand now moved next to your waist, grabbing the key of the door as he swiftly turned it to the right, locking the door and making sure by pulling at the knob. Now it's just the two of you, alone in a bathroom which is close by the living room where several fellow team members have a relaxing night.

He doesn't have to say anything, the eyes he gave you, the stares, the grin... his mimics and looks told you how much he wanted you, how inpatient he has been. The warm, gold chains from your dress fell down your shoulders and hang down your arms, leaving your upper chest part more exposed than it already had been. The god licked his lips and eagerly pressed his lips on your skin next to your collarbone. You moaned. It was on accident, or not, but the sudden touch caught you by surprise.

His hands squeezed the flesh around your waist, pulling you closer to his muscular body, closer to his lips. All of this could be a dream, but it's not, you feel the breath of him hitting your skin, how he sucked at your sensitive skin and how he kissed over every single part of your neck era. It felt like a dream.

You didn't know where to put your hands, you had them every where on him. His shoulders, his back, his abs and his sides.. Everywhere you could reach, until you couldn't. He pulled away from your body and grabbed your small hands into his large ones, only the look of the size comparison had you getting weak. With ease, he pulled them up above your head and kept them there.

An erotic grin drew his lips and he moved forward your chest, biting the satin fabric of your dress and pulling it down slowly. Your breath hitched. He doesn't know what he's doing with you, what this does with you. Once the cold air hit your nipples, they grew hard, hard for him. He gave you one last look before his hot tongue made contact with your left breast, licking over the intimate part. Your knees fell weak, but he held you in place, he had the upper hand and you loved it.

Usually it has been you who's dominant around the team, who's always in charge, leading them into war and out of it, but if it's about having fun at night? Having Sex with someone? You prefer to be led by them.

His tongue played with your nipples, switching from one to another over and over, every now and then sucking at them, making you blur out a soft moan.

"Thor.." it caught his attention. The mix of whispering and moaning got him excited, more than he's been already.

"What's the matter, dove?" He gently asked, worrying any negation now. Did he take it too far? Have you gotten uncomfortable? something he didn't notice as yet was your underwear. By now it was soaked wet, he teased you too much, let you wait too long - not that you didn't love it, you did, but you can't wait any longer.

"Please.." was everything you could say, closing your eyes and softly and moaning at the imagination of him between your legs, eating every inch of your pussy like it was his last desert. You don't blame him for not catching up on what you've been up to, what you wanted him to do, it feels like both of you haven't had sex in a long time, he probably for longer than you.

"Just take this dress off.." something he didn't let him be told twice. His hands let go of yours and pulled your gown completely off your curves, leaving you standing there in hot black lingerie. Only one layer of fabric covering the part that has been dripping the whole time for him. His eyes fell down at them, he couldn't see the wetness coming through, but he felt it in some way. He kneeled down and grabbed your right leg, gently putting it over his shoulder to have a better look at what he's about to make his dinner.

His lips traveled down your inner thigh, getting closer to the heat he's in guilt for. Once his lips made contact with the fabric over your pussy, you whined. You've been craving this feeling for as long as you can remember and it felt magical. Only a bit of touch made you shiver and weak for him.

The sound he made when he realised how wet you were, is like a mix of moans and groans. He probably wants to get into it straight away, but he tortures both, you and him, with keeping the teasing going.

But he couldn't.

He made your foot touch the floor again, as well as your panties the moment they landed next to his legs. As quick as your leg was straight, as quick it was bend over his shoulder again, with his head between your legs, his tongue sliding through your wet dripping folds. The moan that escaped your mouth was immense, exploding almost. It felt amazing, you knew already that you don't want him to stop anytime soon, you want to be unable to walk the next morning.

His tongue explored every inch of your pussy, stopping at your clit that was swollen red already. He teased the bundle of nerves with his flicking movements, making you moan more and more. You tried your best to keep them quiet, but oh heaven you couldn't. Those were music to Thor's ears to be exact, he doesn't want you to stop.

"Fuck- Thor.." the air in your lungs was caught in tightness, you felt how a knot in your abdomen grew and grew the rougher he went on you. He moaned along with you, he was turned on by your noises and hip thrusts that only intensified.

This felt like an eternity but it was only 3 minutes until the knot in your stomach explode. Your one hand flew on your mouth to suppress the moans escaping, whilst the other clawed into his long blonde hair. You gasped for air, breathing heavily through your nostrils as you slowly calmed down from your high.

"That's how I like it, dove.."

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callsigns-haze · 3 months

Text

Pretty like a crime

Chapter 7

Pairing: Agent Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Singlemom! Agent Y/n 'Cobra' Y/l/n

Summary: Cobra is finally back on the agency and is finally back in the job. With Kai at home she has to jumble being a mother and a agent. She's sent to her first U.C mission but never thought that she would meet a blonde, green eyed Texan...

Warning: Mentions of gun use, ptsd, mentions of death, mentions of shooting, flirting, mentions of abuse, description of dead body, death, blood, undercover work, alcohol use, smut, kissing

Prologue/ Part 1/ Part 2/Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6

----------SIX MONTHS LATER-----------

Mornings were the most enjoyable portion of the day in your home. It was calm and tranquil, which was unusual for the couple given the chaos of raising Kai.

You and Jake enjoyed the morning since your new schedules meant you didn't have to worry about work or Kai, whom you loved deeply. Those few hours you may spend together and enjoy a tranquil time in each other's arms

It was early in the morning, with sunlight streaming through the windows, when you felt Jake's massive arms weight on your waist and his nose nuzzling against the nape of your neck.

"Good morning, love," he whispered in his scratchy morning voice, drawing you against his bare chest.

“Good morning… ooh I see our big friend is also joining us this morning” your lips curled into the famous Seresin smirk that Jake thought you while feeling his hard cock against your panty covered ass.

“Can't stop it when I'm sleeping next to a goddess ” he slid his hand under your night gown tugging against the rim of your panties to get access to your slick folds.

“Jakey, what are you doing?” you giggled as he slowly lowered you panties.

“Giving my goddess the affection her needy ass needs. It’s been a while since our last trip downtown ” he says in his morning rasp as he leaves butterfly kisses down the side of your neck.

"It's only seven a.m., and he won't be up until nine, I can tell you that," he pulls you in closer, pressing his hardon into your ass.

"But.." you protested, but your body had already given in to him, allowing him to take control.

He silenced you before sliding his fingers inside your moist and massaging your clit in a circular manner. You moaned as he placed light kisses on the nape of your neck. "Does that feel good, mama?" he teases against your ear, his fingers moist with your sticky as he takes his time pleasing you.

"Mmmhmm," you murmured gently, your body lighting up at his touch. He slips two fingers into your heat and draws circles on your swelling bud with his thumb. Your hand returned to run your fingers through his hair, taking a grip of it as you pulled your hips back as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you at a regular rhythm, which felt nice but wasn't enough for you.

"Please, Jake, fuck…." you said in a frantic whisper. He had won you over, but he was destroying you.

"What do you need baby?" You can hear the sneer in his mocking tone. "I need you, I want you inside me," you said, as Jake quickly pushed you onto your back and removed your pants.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll take care of you," he says, raising your nightdress above your head.

He bends down to savour your lips, gasping as your tongue swirls with his. He kisses your breast and swirls your peaks around his tongue. Your hand reaches down and pushes his boxers to release his member.

He continues to suck on your tits as you wrap your fingers around his thick shaft, giving him a few strokes before lining him up with your entrance. He slips in smoothly, sighing quietly as his long, thick length fills your tightness.

"Fuck, darling" Jake murmured quietly into your ear, moving his hips into yours slowly and forcefully, making you tremble. His body was wonderfully moulded to yours. You tightened your legs around his hips, bringing him closer as he drove further into you.

"Fuck, Jakey, so close, oh!" you groaned, falling back as you achieved your peak. Jake was near as well, increasing up his tempo as your walls pulsated with the sensation of your high, making him chuckle at how you squirmed beneath him. You were both so caught up in each other's delight that you didn't notice your bedroom door was open.

"Mommy, Jakey?" Your son's tiny voice appears from thin air as you and Jake quickly pull up the covers for a bit of cleavage. Your little son is standing in your door frame, leaning a bit forward as Jake asks him what's up.

"I'm hungry…" Him and Jake have been getting along amazingly for the past few months but yet you still can't get over how shy your son manages to get at times. Jake knows how shy and antisocial Kai can truly get and says.

"Hey bud, give me a minute and I'll be down in the kitchen okay?" Kai to that, full of energy nods his head and runs off down the halls as you where about to get up but Jake quickly pushes you down and gets on top of you, kissing down your neck.

"I'll go take care off him, you rest, I bet I tired you out." He plants one more kiss on your lips and gets up grabbing some underwear and sweatpants beside the bed. "Jake you don't hav-" you've said that line already and many times before, and stops you in your tracks as he grabs a t-shirt and leaves the bedroom to take care of your son.

You lie down on the sofa mattress while staring up at the ceiling, wondering how you got so lucky. You've fallen for an agent that cares for you and your son and protects you no matter what. He cares for your son and how the young boy is doing. Overall he's just a gentleman.

You slowly rise out of bed, picking up your cleavage and pyjamas at the side. You slip on the top and bottom, swiftly walking over to the table where your phone starts to vibrate. You don't hesitate to pick up the phone even though it's an unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Hello Madame Chevalier."

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corroded-hellfire · 1 year

Text

Never Have I Ever - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You come home after your first semester of college and spend the day with your best friend, Eddie. You’re both confused as to where the other stands in terms of relationships, but a drinking game only adds to the confusion.

Note: This is for my darling wifey @inourtownofhawkins whom I love the mostest, despite what she says. I hope you like the story bb! 💙

Warnings: underage drinking, talk of sex, oblivious idiots in love

Words: 2.4k

Coming home from college for winter break was exciting for a number of reasons. Obviously, there was the break from exams and papers, but it was also nice to come back home. Seeing family was great, seeing friends was fun, but seeing Eddie was the best part. Sure, you made sure to talk on the phone at least once a week while you were away, but it’s not the same as spending time together in person. You’d told him about your shitty dates with a guy named Carl, your great dates with a guy named Scott, and how your roommate was the biggest slob you’ve ever met in your life - including Eddie when he was a young teenager. He’d kept you up on the news of Hawkins, like if Max and Lucas were currently together or broken up, how many times Vickie had to play referee to Steve and Robin’s fights, and what the current ETA was for Hopper proposing to Joyce.

Since you’d come home you’ve hung out with him with the rest of the gang, he’d come over to your house for dinner, and at a movie night with the older teens at Steve’s house. But today it’s just you and Eddie at his place. It’s something you’ve done hundreds of times but being alone with Eddie still gives you a rush of butterflies swirling around your stomach.

“Welcome to the Munson residence,” Eddie says, gesturing around the trailer as if you’d never been there before.

“I’m familiar with it,” you say with a smirk. “I didn’t think you or Wayne would do some drastic redecorating while I was gone, so yes, I recognize the place.”

“That’s what you think.” Eddie wiggles his eyebrows and his eyes drift down the hallway towards his room.

You give him a curious look before toeing off your boots and heading in that direction. The room smells the same; like weed, cologne, and something distinctly Eddie. But it looks the same, too. Brow furrowing, you walk around the small room, looking for something to stand out to you as different. There’s a small collection of photos taped to Eddie’s closet, so you pad over to look them over. Right in the middle is the picture of you and Eddie at graduation, clad in your green gown and caps, golden tassels hanging in your faces as you stick your tongue out and Eddie flips off the camera. Next to it there’s a picture of Eddie with the Hellfire guys, all wearing their matching shirts. The one under it has your breath catching in your throat, though. It’s obviously from Halloween, and Eddie’s with Dustin, Max, Steve, Will, and some girl draped across his lap on a couch. Pulse kicking up, you stare at the girl’s face, seeing if you recognize her from high school. Her long dark hair and beautiful brown skin don’t ring a bell, though. Half of your brain is telling you to calm down, that they could be friends, but the other half is telling you that friends don’t sit in each other’s laps like that.

“Find it yet?” Eddie asks from behind you.

“Who’s this?” you ask, eyes never leaving the picture. Eddie’s footsteps come from over near the door and his hair brushes your shoulder as he leans in to see what you’re looking at.

“Oh, that’s Mia,” Eddie says. The way he says it makes it sound like you should know who he’s talking about. You know you would’ve remembered him talking about a girl. Especially if he mentioned she was this beautiful. “Did I not tell you about her?” Before you can answer, he keeps speaking. “But that’s not where the difference in my room is.”

Eddie takes your shoulders and leads you to the other side of his room, your socked feet trying to dig in against the carpet, but failing. When his hands drop, you instantly notice the difference in the room that he was talking about.

“Wow, I’m impressed,” you say with a smirk. Taking a few steps forward, you run your fingers over his Sweetheart’s strings - something only you’re allowed to do. “You actually bought a guitar stand instead of hanging her over your mirror.”

“Only the best for my girl.”

Sweetheart or Mia, you think to yourself bitterly.

“It’s very nice,” you tell him.

“Thank you.” He tugs on a lock of your hair. “Now, come on. Let’s go play.”

“What’re we playing?” you ask as you follow him out of the room.

“Nintendo,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’m Mario. You’re Luigi.”

You sit down on the couch as Eddie sets up the game.

“Princess Peach is mine,” you tell him.

“Hot,” Eddie says, and even though you can’t see his face, you know he’s smirking. He plops down next to you and tosses a controller in your lap. Cheater as always though, he’s pressed play before you’ve even got it in your hands.

“Asshole,” you call as you speed behind him.

Eddie laughs and pokes his tongue out of his lips as he concentrates. He repeatedly kicks your ass at the game before you accuse him of cheating, and he drops his controller to tackle you down to the floor. You howl with laughter as his fingers dig into the sides of your ribs, tickling you where he knows you’re the most ticklish.

“Off!” you screech. Unsurprisingly, Eddie doesn’t listen, and keeps going until you’re squirming so hard you’re getting rug burn on your lower back where your shirt has ridden up. “Eddie, I’m going to pee myself!”

That has him finally letting go, even if it takes him a second. He smirks down at you and ruffles your hair before he gets off the floor.

“Let’s play another game,” he says.

“So you can cheat again?” You’re still on the floor, looking up at him as he walks to the kitchen.

Eddie scoffs and grabs a bottle off the top of the refrigerator. You sit up to try and get a better look at what he’s doing.

“Tell me how one cheats at a drinking game.” Eddie walks back over to you, shaking a vodka bottle at you.

“Ooh, gimme.” Eddie holds the bottle up out of your reach, making you stand up on your tippy toes, fingers still not able to brush the bottom of the glass.

“Never have I ever?” He lets you take the bottle so he can grab two mugs off the wall - making sure to grab Garfield for you because he knows it’s your favorite.

“Do we not know each other too well for that game?” you ask, sitting back down on the couch.

“I’m sure we’ve both got some dirty secrets,” Eddie says with a smirk. “Plus, you’ve been away at college. How am I supposed to know all the naughty stuff you got up to this semester?” The redness that comes to your cheeks has him smirking even bigger. He sits down next to you and pours a decent amount of vodka in both mugs.

“Fine. You go first,” you say.

Eddie swirls the clear alcohol around the mug as he thinks, lips pursing together in a way that keeps your eyes glued to them.

“Never have I ever kissed a girl.” When you don’t take a sip, but he does, Eddie groans and drops his head back. “Your turn.”

“Okay. Never have I ever…had a one-night stand.”

Eddie narrows his eyes at you as he takes a sip from his mug.

“I told you that in confidence.”

“There’s no one else here,” you say with a laugh.

“Whatever. This is supposed to be telling me things about you.” He rolls his eyes over dramatically as he thinks of the next question. “Never have I ever given a handjob.”

“Not even to yourself?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“You know what I mean.”

You give him a smirk before taking a sip of vodka from Garfield’s head.

“Who?” Eddie gasps playfully, pressing a hand to his chest. “Who corrupted my innocent little friend?”

“Those are two different questions. The handjob was Scott. You corrupted me though.”

Eddie was right, you both did have some dirty secrets. But you were also right, that you two know each other too well for this game. The questions just become targeted attacks, picking things you know the other has done, making each other drink. It quickly leads to the both of you being thoroughly tipsy, bordering on just this side of drunk.

“Now what?” you ask with a giggle.

“I dunno,” Eddie says. “Uh, never have I ever had a crush on my best friend. Oh, shit, wait.”

“‘Oh, shit, wait,’ what? You got a crush on Steve or something?” You’re looking right at him but through your vodka fueled eyes, you don’t see his face turning red.

“Never mind. You ask a question.” Eddie’s avoiding looking at your face and it makes you roll your eyes.

“Okay…never have I ever asked a question in this game and then taken it back.”

“Seriously?” Now he looks at you, and his face is unimpressed.

“Drink up, baby,” you say, pointing at him.

He pretends to take another sip, and you assume he really did it. But with that slip up that he just made, he knows he can’t afford any more alcohol.

“I thought I was your best friend,” you say with a pout. Eddie’s eyes widen comically, and he’s not sure how to answer that. The alcohol is starting to make him tired and combined with the anxiety of his secret almost being spilled, he starts to get a little angry.

“S’your turn,” he says, sinking down in his seat.

“Don’t wanna play anymore,” you say through a yawn. “Wanna know what you meant.”

“Why?” Eddie asks with an annoyed groan.

“Cause you said it!”

He huffs and puts his mug down so he can rub his hands over his face. Placing your mug next to his, you lean forward so you’re closer to Eddie. When he drops his hands from his face, your face is closer to his than he expects, and he flinches back.

“Why won’t you tell me?” you ask with a pout. “We tell each other everything.”

He only hears about half of what you say though, because his eyes lock on your lips and they’re all he’s able to focus on. The way they move when you speak, the way your tongue comes out to lick at them, how the pink skin pulls together when you set your mouth in a pout. Eddie can’t take it anymore and just needs to get it out.

“I wanna kiss you but you have a boyfriend.”

You pull back, eyebrows wrinkling in confusion as you look at him. Unsure if you heard him correctly or not, you run the words through your head again a few times.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you say. “I thought you had a girlfriend.”

Eddie’s jaw hangs open as he stares at you.

“Why would you think I have a girlfriend?” he asks.

“That girl.” You gesture to his bedroom where you’d seen the picture. “She was on your lap. Lea. Or, Mia.”

“Mia?” Eddie lets out a laugh and shakes his head. “She was Steve’s date on Halloween. Steve was dressed as a doctor. I was Dr. Scrivello.” At your blank look, he continues. “The sadistic dentist from Little Shop of Horrors? Steve Martin’s character?”

“Oh, right.”

“Anyway, Mia got confused I guess, cause we had kinda similar costumes. And she’d had a few to drink by that point so she sat down on me, thinking I was Steve. Haven’t seen her since then. Don’t think Steve has either, actually.”

The relief that courses through your system makes you feel guilty. Eddie’s entitled to have whoever he wants sit on his lap, even if it breaks your heart. But this was just an innocent mistake, so most of the jealousy drains out of your body.

“Wait,” you say, mind catching up to the entirety of the conversation. “Why would you think I have a boyfriend?”

“Scott.” Eddie says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Scott’s not my boyfriend,” you tell him.

“But you told me about all those amazing dates you had with him. And then you just admitted all that dirty stuff you did with him in our game.” Eddie’s big doe eyes make him look like a puppy that just got kicked. You slide closer to him on the couch and grab his hand in yours.

“Yeah, but he’s not my boyfriend. This was all a while ago. I haven’t gone out with him in over a month. I think he’s dating someone else now.”

“Did he dump you?” Eddie asks and the alcohol in your system makes you giggle at the look on Eddie’s face. His eyes are wide, and his mouth is open, causing you to lift his chin up to close it, the slight stubble tickling your fingers.

“No. I said I wanted to stop seeing him. He was nice and all, and we had fun, but I didn’t feel a whole lot for him. Kinda felt like my heart was already with someone else.”

“Who?” Eddie asks.

“You, silly. You’d‘ve known that if you didn’t take back your question before,” you say with a devious smirk. “Because I would’ve had to drink because I have had a crush on my best friend. Still do, in fact.”

“You do?”

“Mhmm. So, you can kiss me if you want to. I’d like it. A lot.”

“You would?”

You giggle and reach up to run your fingers through his hair.

“Maybe tomorrow would be better. You’re entering your sleepy state of drunk now.”

Eddie couldn’t help but smile. He loved how well you knew him - sober or otherwise. And of course, you were right.

“S’gonna be the first thing I do tomorrow,” he tells you.

“Guess I should sleep next to you then,” you say with a shrug. “So my lips are right there when you wake up.”

It’s exactly what you do. And Eddie does exactly as he says. You’re already awake when he blinks his eyes open, the sunlight shining through the window and casting shadows over your two bodies. The night before comes back to him, a smile lighting up his face as it does so. When his gaze meets yours, he can tell you remember everything too. Without speaking a word, Eddie cups your jaw gently in his large hand, and leans in to press his lips against yours.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction

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abellarts · 1 year

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Filipiniana inspired by the Entities (the Eye, the Vast, the Dark)

[ID: Three drawings of three modelled Filipinianas against a shared background which looks like aged paper. Each one is labelled a different entity which goes, from left to right, the Eye, the Vast, and the Dark. All the models are faceless. Three close ups follow the main image.

The Eye Filipiniana is an 1890s traje de mestiza featuring a brown panuelo with green embroidered trimming resembling ink pen tips and green strips resembling eyelashes at the opening, a translucent wide-sleeved striped baro in alternating off-white and green with green embroidered eyes for trimming, a dark cyan tapis with rows of books patterned on, and a silky striped saya in alternating yellow and green with an eye where the saya and the tapis meet and embroidery of people walking at the hem. Finished with accessories of a silky green necklace with a hanging realistic eye and a dark blue folding fan with an eye pattern. The model has brown skin and straight black hair up in a bun.

The Vast Filipiniana is a Commonwealth Era Style Baro’t Saya featuring a violet umbrella with a bright galaxy on the inside that the model holds on her shoulder, a magenta panuelo with yellow and orange stripes held together with a bright yellow star-shaped medallion, wide translucent butterfly-sleeved baro with a sunset to sky blue gradient from top to bottom with embroidered white clouds on the sleeves, a tapis with different shades of blue going from a light blue to dark blue top to bottom with embroidered silver fish of differing sizes, and a silky dark-blue-to-deep-blue saya with a long saya de cola with dark silhouettes resembling tentacles creeping up the sides. The model has pale tan skin and wavy hair held up in a loose lower bun.

The Dark Filipiniana is an 1840s Baro’t Saya styled for church-wear featuring a translucent plaid-patterned magenta panuelo, a striped straight-sleeved camisa in alternating dark magenta and off-white, a dark purple tapis embroidered with hands in alternating red and blue gripping each other by the wrist, a plaid-patterned magenta saya, and dark purple sandals. The models holds a dark purple hood over her head, the outside is a dark purple trimmed with white embroidery meant to look like closed eyes, the inside is a dark mass filled with open white eyes in strange positions, the dark mass drips down the edges of the hood, some eyes following. The model has ashy tan skin and combed back brown hair.

./.End ID]

Finally finished it! I’ve wanted to do this for a while but pushed it off until now. The Entities as a couple versions of the Filipiniana. I don’t have plans rn to make the others since I suspect I will soon be busy again. Still, I have some ideas, particularly for the Web. Have a favourite?

My inspiration+info under the cut! :D

1) The Eye

I based the Eye’s Filipiniana off of the “traje de mestiza”, an aristocratic ensemble popular during the 1890s near the end of Spanish colonial rule. It’s also known as the “Maria Clara” gown due to association with the main heroine of Jose Rizal’s novel “Noli me Tangere.”

Ngl I struggled to add more motifs than just “Eye” but I tried to be creative with it. The panuelo (the cloth around the shoulders) is supposed to look like eyelids which is why there are eyelashes. The embroidered trim is supposed to be the tips of ink pens. The trim of her sleeves are eyes. The tapis (the dark cloth around the lower area) features shelves of books. The bottom of the dress is supposed to be the Eye Watching people suffering at the hem. I got extremely lazy though and just got a “people walking” brush from the csp asset store and stamped them on. Didn’t get me the effect I intended but I was too tired to change it.

[ID: A sepia photograph of a woman looking to the left while wearing a traje de mestiza and holding a closed fan. /.End ID]

[ID: An image of the original front cover of Jose Rizal’s Noli Me Tangere manuscript./.End ID]

2) The Vast

The Vast’s Filipiniana I based off of the style popular during the 1930s-1940s Commonwealth Era. Honestly I only chose it because those sleeves are the very definition of vast.

The design has a simple concept but I ended up liking the end result a lot! It’s supposed to be a top to bottom gradient of aspects of the vast. Starting from space, going into sky blue, then ending in the deep abyss of the ocean.

[ID: A sepia photograph of a seated woman wearing a Commonwealth Era Filipiniana. /.End ID]

[ID: A black-and-white photograph of three young women wearing Baro’t Saya in the Commonwealth Era style in a forest setting. All three have their panuelo wrapped around their heads. The girl farthest in the back carries an open umbrella./.End ID]

3) The Dark

Lastly, the Dark’s Filipiniana is based off of 1840s church-wear. I thought I could do something with the hood and the church theme suited the Dark well.

I’ll admit the Dark gave me trouble. Dark is a very vague theme. The hood is the main focus of the dress I think as everything else is pretty standard/I ripped off from the original whoops. The trim is supposed to look like a bunch of closed eyes. The inner hood is a dripping black mass with eyes from who-knows-where. The tapis has a pattern of several hands grasping each other by the wrist because something unknown gripping you from the dark is terrifying. “The blanket never did anything” anyone?

[ID: "A damsel going to early mass," by Justiniano Asuncion, 1841. The painting features a woman looking to the left, wearing darkly coloured 1840s church-wear with a hood, she holds a white cloth in her right hand./.End ID]

[ID: "A señorita walking to church in the daytime," by Justiniano Asuncion, 1841. The painting features a woman looking to the left, wearing brightly coloured 1840s church-wear with a thin gauzy white hood. She holds a small book, presumably a bible. ./.End ID]

#tma #The Magnus Archives #MagnusPod #MagPod #The Entities #The Eye #The Beholding #The Vast #The Dark #Abellarts #i worked hard on this don't flop/j

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grottylittlefox · 8 months

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How could I ever forget you? Chapter 16

Sebastian Sallow/Professor Sallow × f!MC / reader

Slow burn/fluff/angst, aged up characters 18-mid 20s

Somehow it had taken until your final day at Hogwarts to finally show Sebastian how you felt, and by then it was too late. Years pass and your distance grows stronger, despite your many efforts for him. A surprise encounter at a new job could change things forever. Finding each other once again at the very place you first met, Hogwarts.

Chapter 1: "I guess this is it"

Chapter 2: "Oh how I missed you"

Chapter 3: "Goodbye, Sebastian"

Chapter 4: " think it's time you move on"

Chapter 5: "Professor Sallow?"

Chapter 6: "Welcome Home"

Chapter 7: "You're my good luck charm"

Chapter 8: "I'm more of a butterfly person"

Chapter 9: “What have you become?”

Chapter 10: “I have something for you”

Chapter 11: “Curious”

Chapter 12: “I can never stay away from you”

Chapter 13: “Meet me in the undercroft”

Chapter 14: “Shall we dance?”

Chapter 15: “Maybe I’m just as messed up as you”

Chapter 16: “I need you”

The Professor cleared her throat as silence echoed the dusty halls, your eyes focused firmly on the ground.

“Professor,” Sebastian acknowledged, in an awkward huff as he barged past her, fading into the darkness ahead.

He had completely abandoned you.

You stood up straight, tucking your hair behind your ear in an attempt to make yourself presentable, as if that would somehow ease the tension.

“Professor Weasley, I-“ your voice trembled.

“It’s none of my business,” she snapped, making you look up at her in pure disbelief. “Just.. clean up this mess, will you?”

Her glance peered over the frame of her glasses at the books scattered by your feet. As you knelt to the floor to retrieve them your eyes met again. The expression of discomfort slapped across her face spoke a thousand words. This wasn’t the mess she was talking about.

~~~

Books in hand, you made your way back across the castle under flickering candlelight, stumbling on the green gown that still hung from your body. By now it was likely very early morning, as this eventful night had dragged on for hours.

As you passed the Great Hall once more, a trickle of light caught your eye, revealing the grand old door to be just slightly ajar. Your curiosity was getting the better of you, as who in Merlin’s name would still be partying at this hour?

Passing through, you were met with the dim empty hall, candles bobbing gently in the night sky overhead, accompanied by quiet twinkling music playing only for one lonely figure that stood by the drinks.

Turned away from you, broad shoulders in that same white shirt rolled up at the forearms, holding a bottle of something that it was far too late to be drinking.

You gently crept in, and slammed the pile of books on the table in front of you, causing him to turn with a shudder.

“Thanks for that,” you stated, glaring at Sebastian. “For just abandoning me in there.”

He took another swig of his drink before wiping the sweat from his forehead and leaning onto the table. His fingertips landing on the books you’d just placed down. His head turned, investigating the titles that graced the covers.

“I did wonder what had taken you to the library at such hour,” his soft lips hummed. “An architectural guide to hogwarts?” He raised an eyebrow, a simmer of a smirk in the corner of his mouth.

“So no apology?” You stood your ground, furious that he’d avoided it the first time.

“That’s your mess, MC. Not mine,” he teased.

You gasped, accidentally letting a chuckle out with it. The audacity of him.

Arms folded, you responded so slyly that anyone would have thought it was you that was in Slytherin.

“A mess you created.”

“And how exactly did I do that?” He leaned in close, once again inhaling the alcohol on his lips. “I didn’t force you to play lovey dovey with Weasley, it’s not my fault you can’t resist me,” a grin plastered across his freckled face.

“Actually you did,” your lips slipped out, instantly realising you’d revealed too much.

“I’m sorry?” He questioned. “I forced you?”

“Enough, Sebastian!” You snapped.

The energy shifted as Sebastian dropped the teasing in an instant, giving you both a moment to breathe.

“MC, I… I don’t know what you mean,” he whispered, gently taking your hand in his. “..but I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for leaving you. For every time I left.”

You heard him place the bottle down onto the table with his other hand, before bringing it to your waist with a protective grip. As you glanced up at him, a wave of warmth passed over you. His deep eyes glistened with pure compassion as they fixed on yours. You didn’t just know he meant it, you felt it.

“Its.. it’s not your fault… Theres some things I need to.. take care of “ you whispered, feeling a little tear forming in the corner of your eye.

“Don’t.. worry about that right now,” he shushed. “Instead…dance with me?”

A smile grew across your lips, as did his to match. Suddenly your felt your feet lift from the ground as Sebastian picked you up into spin, holding you ever so gently as he carried you across the Great Hall. You giggled into each other, never before so comfortable.

As Sebastian placed you back onto the ground, his cheeks beamed a blushing pink, something he was hoping was hidden behind his shadow of stubble. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but it felt like he’d been waiting an eternity to hold you like that. To be the one who made you giggle again. To make you his.

Sebastian bowed, offering out his hand to you with a grin.

The thudding in your chest grew louder at a sight you’d only dreamed of, taking place before your very eyes.

“Sebastian,” you chuckled, leaving him standing there, hand still out to you with a puzzled look.

As his lips parted to respond, you leapt forward into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He cradled you in, burying into your shoulder as you pressed against his chest. His familiar scent had you melting at his touch, begging for this moment to last forever. He slowly swept you across the floor, entirely lost in each other as the sunrise began to slowly trickle in. Sending beams of light dancing through the room with you.

“I need you,” he breathed into you, coming to a halt as his pressed his lips against your forehead. His beard tickled against your skin while his large hands drew circles across your back, luring you in to him with every breath.

“Sebastian,” you whispered, stepping back with a smile, resisting the want for him that consumed you. “Go to bed.”

You turned, making your way out of the hall with a blushing smile as you stopped to remove your healed shoes that were burning your tired feet.

Sebastian stood there as he watched you slip away. Analysing the way your body moved with the floating dress behind you. The curves in your hips, the sharp edges of your shoulder blades. He was besotted with you, and practically panting like a puppy.

His sigh echoed across the room as he brought himself back to reality, spinning like a giddy schoolboy. Turning towards the table, he caught eye of the books you’d left there, picking them up rather curiously. Whatever were they for?

~~~

The castle was now buried deep in crisp white snow and fairy lights, it was the last week of term before Christmas break.

A few days had passed since you’d danced with Sebastian under the stars, and unfortunately you hadn’t yet seen Garreth either. The rest of that weekend had clearly been recovery time from the drunken antics of that night, and now Monday had rolled back around faster than ever.

You sat at your usual seat for breakfast that morning, a festive cheer lingered in the air amongst the students all chatting away before you. As you looked out from the professors table, you scanned at every seat for a pile of missing books that you were sure you’d left there a couple of nights prior, but alas they were nowhere to be seen.

Professor Weasley promptly made her entrance, causing you to look away rather shamefully. Just the sight of her had sucked the festive joy right out of you, a hash reminder of the reality you were facing, and the one thing you had to do today.

Holding your spoon, you began prodding at the food on the plate in front of you in order to look busy, hoping that absolutely no one wanted to converse with you, however it seemed you’d be wrong about that as a voice cleared their throat from above your head.

Looking up, a pair of brown smiling eyes were beaming down. Eyes you’d missed dearly since you told them to go to bed.

“Hello, you,” spoke his smooth voice. His hand delicately brushed against yours on the table, ever so subtly that nobody noticed.

You felt your stomach flip as the tingling sensation in your cheeks began to flush. Sebastian clearly noticed this, prompting him to tuck that stray piece of hair behind your ear to see you turn even redder.

“What are you doing?” A shy whisper left your lips as you smiled down, completely baffled that he’d be even remotely affectionate with you in public.

“Asking you to meet me in my office after classes,” Sebastian grinned. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble.”

The way he spoke oozed with tease, as if he’d entirely forgotten his life was at stake.

“And why is that?”

“To collect the books you’d forgotten.”

“Oh, of course.”

“And..” he paused. “For something else.”

Chapter 17

#sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #harry potter #harry potter hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #fanfic #professor sallow

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