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#the good opinion of other writers mean so much

sobeautifullyobsessed · 2 years

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I really enjoyed Friday in the Park! :)

Thank you so much @arrthurpendragon! 💝It was a joy to write, pure fluff (as well as one of the few stories I've actually finished, thus far), and gave birth to a beloved OFC, Hope Collins.

As you write original characters, I know that you know how wonderful it feels to bring someone new to vibrant life and to write them to their fruition (in Hope's case, she appears again in a more serious vein, along with her Stephen Strange in 14,000,604 - another fic I managed to finish. I wonder if that means she has the magic touch😉)

By the way, love your new avatar, and sending many good wishes on your newest undertaking. I'm sure it will be wonderful!

#arrthurpendragon #thank you kindly #the good opinion of other writers mean so much #'Friday in the Park with Stephen'#Hope Collins #OFC #Stephen Strange x Hope Collins #Stephen Strange x OFC #14000604

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sarahreesbrennan · 3 months

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Are all the themes in “in other lands” supposed to be a commentary on something? Or do you just like writing sex scenes between minors, age gaps, and reverse misogyny?

Genuine question.

Ohhh, my dear anon, I don't believe this is a genuine question.

But it does bring up something I've been meaning to talk about. So I'll take the bait.

Firstly. Yes, my work contains a commentary on the world around us. I wonder what I could be doing with the child soldiers being sexually active in their teens (people hook up right after battles), and the age gap relationship ending in the younger one being too mature for the elder. What could I possibly have been attempting when I said 'how absurd gender roles are, when projected onto people we haven't been accustomed by our own society to see that way'? I wasn't being subtle, that's for sure.

Secondly. Yes I do enjoy writing! I think I should, it's my life's work. Am I titillated by my own writing, no - though I think it's fine to be. The sex scenes of In Other Lands aren't especially titillating, to be honest. It is interesting to me how often people sneer at women for writing romance and sex scenes, having 'book boyfriends,' insinuating women writers fancy their own characters. Women having too much immoral fun! Whereas men clearly write about sex for high literary purposes.

… I have to say from my experience of women and men's writing, I haven't found that to be true.

I’m not in this to have an internet argument. I prefer to leave my anons open since not everyone has a tumblr, as @neil-gaiman says it’s an internet backwater, but a lovely one for those like myself who enjoy an essay about fictional characters! Still I will close my inbox to anons if I must. Mostly people use bad faith takes to poke at others from the other side of a screen for kicks. But I do know some truly internalise the attitude that writing certain things is wrong, that anyone who makes mistakes must be shunned as impure, and that is a deeply Victorian and restrictive attitude that guarantees unhappiness.

I've become increasingly troubled by the very binary and extreme ways of thinking I see arising on the internet. They come naturally from people being in echo chambers, becoming hostile to differing opinions, and the age-old conundrum of wanting to be good, fearing you aren't, and making the futile effort to be free of sin. It makes me think of Tennyson, who when travelling through Ireland at the time of the Great Famine, said nobody should talk about the 'Irish distress' to him and insisted the window shades of his carriage be shut as he went from castle to castle. So he wouldn't see the bodies. But that didn't make the bodies cease to be.

In Les Mis, Victor Hugo explores why someone might steal, what that means about them and their circumstances, and who they might be - and explores why someone else is made terribly unhappy, and endangers others, through their own too rigid adherence to judgement and condemnation without pity. The story understands both Jean Valjean the thief and Javert the policeman. Javert’s way of thinking is the one that inevitably leads to tragedy.

Depiction isn't endorsement. Depiction is discussion.

Many of my loved ones have had widely varying relationships to and experience of sex (including 'none'). They've felt all different types of ways about it. If writing about them is not permissible, I close them out. I'd much rather a dialogue be open than closed.

I do understand the urge to write what seems right to others. I've been brain-poisoned that way myself. I used to worry so much about my female characters doing the wrong things, because then they'd be justly hated! Then I noted which of my writer friends had people love their female characters the most - and it was the one who wrote their female characters as screwing up massively, making rash and sometimes wrong decisions. Who wrote them as people. Because that's what people do. That's what feels true to readers.

I want my characters to feel true to readers. I want my characters to react in messy ways to imperfect situations. I love fantasy, I love wild action and I love deep thought, and I want to engage. That's what In Other Lands is about. That's even more what Long Live Evil is about. That sexy lady who sashays in to have sexy sex with the hero - what is her deal? Someone who tricks and lies to others - why are they doing that, how did they get so skilled at it? What makes one person cruelly judgemental, and another ignore all boundaries? What makes Carmen Maria Machado describe ‘fictional queer villains’ as ‘by far the most interesting characters’? What irritates people about women having a great time? What attracts us to power, to fiction, and to transgression?

I don’t know the answers to all those questions, but I know I want to explore them. And I know one more thing.

If the moral thing to do is shut people out and shut people up? Count me among the villains.

#bookblr #discourse #in other lands #long live evil #les mis #carmen maria machado #writing

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ao3commentoftheday · 1 month

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I’m thinking about perfectionism again, specifically with respect to how it can skew your opinion of success and failure.

There’s this concept that comes up a lot when you read about issues like perfectionism: all-or-nothing thinking. It’s a trap that’s easy to fall into.

If you’re a fic writer falling into this trap, you might feel like you’re an absolute failure if your fic isn’t a 100% accurate depiction of the scene you see in your head with flawless grammar and zero typos. That is a, quite literally, impossible standard to meet and as a result of never meeting it, you probably feel one or more of the following:

lack of motivation

certainty that there’s no point in even trying

self-hatred or some other form of intense dissatisfaction with yourself and/or your skills

This is a completely logical way to feel in that mindset, by the way. Your standard for success is so high that you’re constantly a failure. If your standard for success is impossible to meet, then there is no point in trying. If there’s no point in trying, how could you possibly feel motivated?

In order to move away from those feelings, you need to move away from that all-or-nothing, black & white mindset.

One way to do this is by figuring out a new standard for success that actually can be achieved. For example, give yourself permission to have occasional typos in your stories. Gaiman’s Law states that an author will always find a typo the first time they open their published book. If even Neil himself has resigned himself to this fate, then hopefully you can too. If you managed to write your story then that’s a success and finding a typo after you’re done doesn’t turn that success into a failure.

Another thing that’s helped me is to think of every failure or mistake or dissatisfying result as a learning opportunity. If I’m not able to do something now, that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to do it at some point in the future. I just need to keep trying. Practice makes better. Practice also helps you figure out the things that are easy for you and the bits that are hard and where you might need some help - either from a fellow fan or from another kind of resource.

I think part of the reason why people can get so anxious about their fanworks is because we care so much about them. We love the characters. We love the world. We want to do them justice in our writing, and we want other fans to love our creations too.

It’s important to remember that all of us love imperfect things all the time. It’s not perfection that makes a thing lovable. It’s the heart that’s put into it.

There’s a lot of fear behind perfectionism. Fear of being caught doing something wrong. Fear of being shamed for a mistake. Fear that imperfection makes us unworthy or unlovable. Fear that a single flaw will ruin an entire work. Fear of failure.

If you want to be able to move through that fear, you need to be able to reduce it somehow. The most effective way that I’ve found is to stop writing with the goal of posting something online. Write for the sake of writing, without the pressure of showing it to someone else. That might help you to get out a first draft (or second or third) without that worry about being judged and found wanting.

If you’re not ready for positive self-talk or reframing the internal narrative (I get it. Been there.) then allowing yourself to be less than perfect in a place where no one else can see you might be a good first step.

And just because I think it’s important that you hear it from time to time: you are a wonderful, creative, amazing human being - mistakes included.

#thinky thoughts #perfectionism #this turned into a ramble sorry #long post

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thebirdsandthebats · 7 months

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Okay @s-p-r-i-n-g-t-i-m-e I’m sure you know plenty BUT I’m going to use your wonderful and hilarious comment on this as an excuse to talk about Bernard, bc I realized recently that there are plenty of ppl who haven’t read most of the comics he’s been in. So get ready for my long overdue:

UNPACKING BERNARD DOWD + HIS TRAUMA (for those who cannot keep up with comics but want to get to know him)

So to start, Tim met Bernard years ago ofc, when they were in high school. It’s established pretty quick that Bernard is an extremely Unserious guy LMAO, the first thing he does is literally circle Tim and try to feel him out socially, see what kind of guy he is. He’s the kind of guy who gets himself in trouble with his big mouth, and seems to enjoy poking at Tim and testing his patience. By the time we meet Bernard again in the recent years, he’s grown a lot, but at his core he’s still the light-hearted, fun, goofy guy with very strong opinions. Just less stand-offish, maybe

Throughout the time Tim spends at this school though, Bernard does experience some wild shit. He lost Darla (somebody he really cared about), he experienced a shooting at his school, and then Darla came back from the dead, kind of scared the hell out of him, and used him to contact Tim again. It was kind of played for laughs, but like. That’s gotta fuck you up. (Robin #140)

Obviously this is the kind of thing that maybeee has a lasting effect on you. And BECAUSE Tim Drake: Robin got cut so short and the writer had to rush to wrap up the series, we’re left to fill in a lot of gaps and draw conclusions about the years we didn’t see Bernard ourselves. But we absolutely get some insight as to his life after Tim left that school and we stopped seeing him in the comics. Spoiler alert: it was hard.

In TDR, Bernard discusses the the cult that he’d been in that Tim saved him from in Urban Legends. He says that “he’d accepted himself”, but others hadn’t. Obviously there’s the natural reading that he means his queerness (which has me chewing through drywall), but I think that he’s speaking very broadly too. Bernard is a very odd example of a civilian, because he’s always getting dragged into things much bigger than him. And even before that, he had his big ideas, his conspiracies, his loud personality. He tended to rub people the wrong way in high school. Then in issue #7 of TDR (the Bernard pov issue my most beloved, weird pacing aside) Bernard refers to this “oozy, sticky feeling” that he ALWAYS feels when Tim isn’t around. He says when he’s alone it’s harder to put one foot in front of the other. To keep GOING. To wake up every day.

I think that Bernard has always felt like an outcast. (Robin #121, he doesn’t fit into any clique). He wasn’t as okay with it as he acted. And I think he wasn’t getting any attention from his parents. (Batman: Urban Legends #5, Bernard’s parents nonchalance to the days leading up to his kidnapping)

So just like Bernard explained to Tim, that feeling got bad. and he wanted to let go. The chaos monsters, the cult, all of it was a means to an end. But then Tim agreed to see him again, and I think that sparked something in him. Because he started learning to fight. When he was tied down to that alter and Tim was saving him, I think it fully sank in to Bernard that he didn’t want to die. Reconnecting with Tim gave him hope and made him really feel something good for the first time in ages.

So now that they’re dating after the cult fiasco, we get to know this current Bernard. A less goading, maybe calmer Bernard. But he’s still himself, of course, rambling about his ideas and making bad jokes and sticking to his guns (he has NEVER been a pushover, no idea where people get that idea?). I think a lot of people complained that Bernard mellowed out too much in terms of attitude, but I think if he seems “nicer” it’s because 1) he’s grown now. It’s been a while since we last saw him, and he’s clearly changed a lot. And 2) because he’s dating Tim now. He likes him a lot, and he’s an affectionate partner. He wants to lift Tim up.

But the fact that he was pulled into a cult still remains. And as lighthearted as Bernard tries to be, that traumatic experience still happened. It said in Urban Legends #5 while Tim was searching for him that Bernard had welts on his arms and legs and had been acting different, so it’s not like he was just snatched up on a whim. He’d spent significant time there. For those who haven’t read much abt the ways cult trauma specifically can fuck you up, I recommend doing a search if you’re in a good headspace for that and want to understand him more. because it’s pretty bad.

And then! yeah. you guessed it. Bernard gets kidnapped again. Chained up next to a BOMB that’s counting down. RIGHT WHEN HE’S WORKING ON HEALING FROM ALMOST BEING SACRIFICED BY A CULT.

And surely this can’t get crazier. He’s almost died twice in the past 6 months. except, remember his parents? In TD:R #7, we really see a little more of his relationship with his parents. He doesn’t live up to their standards, and his dad specifically seems to just want to argue with him. The restaurant they’re at is attacked, and everything goes to shit, and. you know, I think these panels really speak for themselves.

And for the record, when it’s revealed that everyone is seeing their worst fears, Bernard’s parents fears are not about him.

So now Bernard has to deal with that. And we start to see that Bernard is really not as okay as he’s tried to be. He keeps a baseball bat by his door because he’s been kidnapped twice now. And just when he’d likely thought things couldn’t get worse, he heard the Chaos Monsters were back. I can’t imagine he feels safe. He lashes out for the first time since all this has happened and yells at Kate and Tim, because while they’re doing what they feel is necessary to save more people (AND I DONT BLAME THEM AT ALL), Bernard can’t talk about it.

And I will forever be sad and insist that TD:R got cancelled too soon, just before we could get into the really juicy stuff, because things had to be wrapped up pretty quick and this was the only comic Bernard was consistently appearing in. But when Tim is giving himself up to the chaos monsters, Bernard goes out and rallies anyone he knows can help. Things were rushed because there was no more time to flesh out the story the way it could have been, but I’m including these panels just because I love Bernard Audacity Dowd using a fucking flashlight and shadow puppet to call Batman. geeking out for a minute. And then leading the battalion to save Tim with a SLEDGEHAMMER. gay people rule.

So yeah! While I see the vision of how a lot of Bernard’s trauma was meant to be semi-resolved and let him come to peace after saving Tim back, we just didn’t have the time for him to heal properly. I’d give anything to get inside his brain again. UHH IF YOU READ THIS I HOPE YOU LOVE BERNARD NOW and don’t come at me if I left something out, some of my comics aren’t with me rn. Bonus TimBer for the road:

#WHEW IT TOOK A WHILE TO ORGANIZE THESE PANELS #Hes NOT BORING he is SO FASCINATING TO ME #i think his character is just not being utilized the way it could be #I didnt source every panel so just ask if you want to know where something is from!#bernard dowd #batfamily #dc comics #tim drake #timber #timbern

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livwritesstuff · 22 days

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Tommy POV, wc: 2890, full version on ao3

Tommy Hagan is not jealous of Eddie Munson.

He’s not.

There’s nothing to be jealous of, in his opinion, and Tommy probably wouldn’t be thinking about him at all if Eddie wasn’t the most publicly well known member of his graduating class – well, he hadn’t actually been in his graduating class, Tommy supposes.

They had been seniors at the same time, though.

If Tommy happened to be jealous of anything – and that’s a big if – it would probably have something to do with the famous thing. Everyone has a small part of them that wants to be famous at least in some capacity, he’s pretty sure, even if Eddie isn’t really, truly famous – not like the red carpet celebrities. He’s a writer. Even the most well known writers never get all that much attention, but Munson has his own Wikipedia page, and that’s more than anybody else from Hawkins, Indiana can say. Hawkins itself barely even has a Wikipedia page, and it’s only because of all the atrocities that happened in town in the mid-eighties.

Tommy hadn’t been around for the end of it all – the earthquake-slash-serial killer situation that never made any sense to him. He remembers his mom calling him at his college dorm when the deaths first started. He remembers her asking, “You went to school with that Munson boy, right? Do you think he could do something like this?”

And Tommy had been twenty and a total moron, so he’d said some dumb shit like, “Yeah, he’s into freaky stuff like that. Somebody should’ve put him on a list ages ago,” even though four years of experience told him that Eddie was all bark, no bite. Tommy hadn’t been surprised at all by the statements that later came out clearing Eddie's name, and by then his parents had already high-tailed it out of Hawkins so it all sort of became irrelevant to him.

Tommy never even returned to Hawkins one single time after he left for college (barring his high school reunion, obviously), and twenty years after graduation, he doesn’t really think about those years all that much.

He doesn’t love the person he’d been in high school. He was whiny and immature and had his priorities all messed up. Most of the memories he has of his teenage years, he looks back at and cringes, feels a whole lot of shame and embarrassment, but also some pride at how much he’s grown over the last twenty years. He also knows he’d been kind of a dick in high school, but that he’s less ashamed of. It’s normal, he knows, for kids to be mean, that it’s a standard response to being untreated kindly in other ways. Like, his dad had been an asshole to him as a kid, always on him about his grades and his smart mouth and how he’d no longer been a standout on any of his sports teams after starting high school, and Tommy had coped with that by poking kids beneath him at school.

It’s just the pecking order of high school. It’s normal.

Even now, when Tommy’s son had dealt with some pricks in the year above him shoving him around, he had come home from school and tormented his little sister for a while – it’s normal, no matter how much his wife had tried to convince him it was something that needed addressing. It’s just kids being kids. They grow out of it eventually, just like Tommy had.

Occasionally he wonders where the kids he’d spent all those years with in the Hawkins public school system had ended up, but these days the internet makes that pretty damn easy to figure out.

He’s learned Tina got married and had kids real young. She still lives in Indiana. Carol, who he’d split up with before heading off to college, lives in Alabama now and she’s got kids and a husband too. Jonathan Byers is a photographer in California – Tommy isn’t into all that art-y crap, so he has no clue if he’s any good, but he definitely recognizes some of the organizations he’s worked for and if that’s any indication, Tommy would wager he’s not too shabby. No wife, though, he noted, so he’d either been right about Byer’s being a queer, or women just found him repulsive (admittedly, Tommy leans more towards the former – he’s a photographer). Tammy Thompson still lives in Tennessee, though it doesn’t seem like she does music anymore (husband, kids, blah blah blah).

If he’s honest, the only person Tommy is actually interested in tracking down is Steve Harrington, and he’s the one person Tommy can’t find a single trace of online. No MySpace, no Facebook, no weird blog thing, nothing.

Vaguely, he wonders if Steve might be dead. A truly massive proportion of Hawkins had died over just a few short years in the mid-eighties. Maybe Harrington was one of them.

Tommy doubts it.

He would have known.

Steve’s parents would have made sure everyone knew if their son had died. Funnily enough, Steve’s mom is actually on Facebook, and pretty actively too, but there’s no sign of Steve anywhere on her page.

He hadn’t even shown up for their high school reunion in the winter of ‘04, which is odd because Tommy had been certain he would.

He doesn’t obsess over it – he really doesn’t. It’s just a thought that pops into his mind every now and then – where the hell is Steve Harrington?

In the late spring of 2007, he gets his answer.

“Tom,” his wife says, “That guy from your high school is on the cover of this magazine.”

He knows without asking for clarity that it’s Munson – no other person makes sense – and when he eventually gets his hands on the magazine, he finds that he’s correct.

Eddie Munson is on the cover of a magazine because, apparently, he published another book.

Truthfully, Tommy already knew that.

It’s his fourth book (which, for the record, Tommy hadn’t known until he knew it because it’s not like he’s keeping tabs on this guy or whatever), and it’s been getting a whole bunch of mainstream attention after a controversial landing on the top of all those book charts Tommy doesn’t follow despite featuring a gay love store amidst all his normal fantasy crap. It sparked a whole debate about banning books and everything (dumb, Tommy knows, because if he learned anything in business school it’s that if you really don’t want something to exist, the best thing you can do is not funnel money and attention into it).

Tommy does, in fact, watch the news so he’d already caught wind of all this – it’s part of the reason he can’t shake the guy – and it’s why Eddie Munson is on the cover of this magazine (because, seriously, nobody gives a shit about writers until it hits the news).

He allows himself a moment to look at the cover, to look at Eddie, who apparently goes by Ed now. Tommy is loath to admit it, but he looks good. His hair is normal and he’s grown into his frame, not all long and lanky and gangly limbs like Tommy remembers from school. He looks well-fed, confident, happy.

He looks good.

Tommy thumbs through the first few pages of the magazine until he reaches Eddie’s interview, and, again, he allows himself to look over the photo of him that takes up nearly three-quarters of the first page even if he has no intention of actually reading the article itself because, again, Eddie looks good (and maybe there’s something about the scruff of facial hair along his jaw that Tommy's eye gets stuck on). Tommy’s allowed to say that men look good when it’s true – it’s 2007, as his wife likes to remind him whenever it’s convenient for her, and if she’s allowed to say that Angelina Jolie looked good in that CIA movie, then Tommy is allowed to say that Eddie Munson looks good here.

When Tommy flips to the next page, he’s met with a photo that stops him in his tracks, has his feet frozen to the floor because –

Jesus Christ, that’s Steve Harrington.

Fuck, okay, so he’s reading this fucking article.

It takes Tommy a long time to get through it, honestly. Eddie comes out in the article, which might be a big deal, might not (and he doesn't care to be enlightened, thanks). He keeps getting distracted by the pictures scattered throughout it.

The pictures of Steve, mostly.

Because, well, if Eddie Munson looks good, Steve…

Steve looks alive.

Tommy didn’t realize it until this exact moment, but Steve had existed in his head for the last two decades as the eighteen-year-old he’d been the last time they were in the same room together. It hadn’t exactly occurred to him that Steve’s been aging this whole time too, just like Tommy has.

It’s undeniable that Steve is older.

His hair is starting to go gray at his temples (it’s the only thing that’s changed about his hair since he’s still styling it the same as he did in high school – because why mess with a good thing, Tommy supposes) and he’s got just the hint of crow's feet around his eyes when he smiles. He’s smiling in all the photos – every damn one – and it has Tommy struck by how unbelievably happy Steve seems. It’s an effect that somehow both takes years off the age Tommy knows he is and shines a light on just how good those years must have been for him.

There’s no solo shots of him like there are for Munson – though according to the article, it's actually Harrington now – and only half the photos are in color. The rest of them – the more candid ones – are smaller and left in black-and-white.

The one that caught Tommy’s eye first – because it was meant to, he’s pretty sure; it takes up half the page – is right in that sweet spot between staged and candid where Steve and Eddie both know that they’re being photographed even though neither of them are actually posing. Eddie is grinning at Steve in a wicked way that still feels familiar to Tommy even two decades since he’d last seen it on him (probably swaggering around the cafeteria like a total jackass – not that Tommy would know anything about that). Steve is grinning right back at him with a smile Tommy doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.

Or maybe he has, but not on this version of his face, not since Steve was as young as his oldest daughter.

Just as the author of the article said, the photos don’t show the faces of Steve’s children, either leaving them artfully out-of-focus or choosing shots where they’re turned away from the camera, but they’re still present, and it makes the whole spread almost feel like a photo album in a way, like it should be private but instead was published for the whole world to see.

Steve has three of them – kids, Tommy means. He didn’t know that Steve was a family kind of guy. It makes sense though, when he thinks about it. Steve’s parents were kind of a nightmare — present in the worst ways, and absent in the worst ways too (though it hadn’t seemed that way when Tommy was a teenager looking for a failsafe party house). He'd always felt kind of bad for the guy. Like, Tommy's dad had been a total piece of work, but they'd at least been around, and he'd stuck around long enough for them to sort out their issues at least most of the way, and these days he's a pretty kickass grandpa to Tommy's children.

Tommy wonders about Steve's parents now, wonders if they maybe came around like his own parents had, but then he remembers Mrs. Harrington's Facebook page and how there's not a damn trace of her son on there, never mind three grandchildren.

Tommy isn't sure he wants to touch that.

Steve is probably a really good dad, Tommy decides. He’d been kind of that way when they were friends — Steve used to say he wasn’t all that bright, but he always had a freaky sixth sense for reading people, for caring about them in exactly the way they needed.

There's one photo where Steve is managing to holding his youngest daughter — a tiny little baby still — and her bottle in one arm (that's a level-three dad hold, Tommy knows). The bottle is angled in a way that obscures her face, and Steve's other hand is being tugged on by another daughter, this one with a mop of curly brown hair remarkably similar to Eddie's when it was still long.

That's another thing Tommy won't let himself think about, (because he knows if did he'd start wondering if any of those kids were half-Steve).

Anyways, Tommy doesn't need glance to see that Steve wears fatherhood like a favorite sweater.

There’s something about this, about seeing these pictures, about the way Tommy is getting an answer to that question he’s had for years about where his childhood best friend has been all these years, that is making him feel like his ribcage is being split open, bones splintering and shattering as everything vulnerable inside his chest in suddenly out for display.

He probably should feel uncomfortable, right? Like, a guy he’d been seriously close to growing up — sleepovers and gym locker rooms and all that shit — had turned out to be gay. If his own son came home from school saying that his best friend came out or whatever as gay…well, again, it’s 2007, and Tommy doesn’t think his wife would allow him to denounce the friendship entirely, but there certainly wouldn’t be any sleepovers anymore. He thinks that’s pretty reasonable.

What was the likelihood that Steve had been, like, into Tommy?

And that should be an uncomfortable notion too, and in a sense, it kind of is, but not necessarily in the way he would expect.

He just doesn’t understand why all this feels so much like a loss because he knows that he hasn’t really lost anything – not since he got his hands on the magazine, anyways. Steve Harrington hasn’t played any sort of role in Tommy’s life since their final falling out in 1984, and as far as he’s aware, having a falling out with a close friend is pretty much a guaranteed part of growing up. His wife even experienced something similar when her own grade school best friend suddenly stopped answering calls and stopped reaching out after they’d started college – and his wife is basically the nicest person Tommy has ever known, so…it happens to even the best.

It’s just…Steve had always continued to exist in Tommy’s life in a way, even if he wasn't physically present, and maybe Tommy had figured it could be the same for Steve too, that maybe he sometimes wonders where Tommy is, wonders what he’s up to.

This article and these photos makes it pretty fucking clear that Tommy doesn’t even exist in the same galaxy as the life Steve is living.

And that’s not to mention the Eddie fucking Munson of it all.

Tommy had been kind of ignoring the Eddie of it all until he couldn’t ignore it anymore, because he doesn't care about Eddie Munson.

He'd never cared, but he'd spent years seeing the guy's face and his name everywhere, and now it feels like a sick joke, like he's the piece of Steve left in Tommy's life.

If the article is accurate (and he has no reason to believe it isn’t), Steve and Eddie have been together for longer than Tommy has even known his wife. Steve has been with Eddie for longer than Steve was ever friends with Tommy – not by a lot, but still more. That’s a long fucking time, and it’s clear as day on both of their faces that they’re just as in love with each other fourteen years in as they were on day one.

It’s not just Steve, and it’s not just Eddie, and it’s not one more than the other. It’s both of them.

There’s one photo in particular – a small black-and-white one that keeps pulling Tommy’s attention.

It’s another candid shot, taken from a bit of a distance. In it, Steve has Eddie boxed in against the counter in what has to be their kitchen. Eddie is leaning back against the edge of the granite countertop and looking at Steve with something sappy and fond on his face, and Steve’s hands are this close to grabbing Eddie’s waist as he looks at him the exact same way.

It’s shit out of a fairy tale or something, and sure, maybe someone could argue that they’re laying it on thick just for the sake of the magazine or whatever, but Tommy knows Steve Harrington and that look on his face is more real than Tommy had ever seen in all the years he'd known him.

So maybe Tommy has a reason or two (or three or four) to be jealous of Eddie Munson.

#unreliable narrator!tommy hagan my beloved #the ao3 version has the interview btw #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson #tommy hagan

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its-time-to-write · 6 months

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hello! First thing first, I want to say how much of a good writer you are, I hope you know this 💕 second I have this idea of reader and Jamie dating, but nobody knows. One day reader is in the coaches room and starts yawning and Roy is like what's that 🤨 (something similar to that scene with beard after he gets back with jane) and reader answers with "you have been waking me up everyday at 4 am" or smt like that and this is how everyone finds out. I know you have already written something like this but I thought it was cute, so feel free to ignore

this was cute. you were right.

coffee at midnight

Neither you nor Jamie exactly decided to keep your relationship a secret.

“It’s not a secret, it’s private, babe,” Jamie insists. You just roll your eyes.

But like, it is private.

That means no instagram posts, no public dates, and no unasked opinions. It also means that Jamie gets a Polaroid camera (“so we don’t get hacked, babe,”), plans dates in his giant house, and keeps fans’ noses out of your relationship.

It also, also means that Roy Kent doesn’t know you’re in Jamie’s bed every morning when he knocks on the door loud enough to wake the dead.

You’re a week into these shenanigans, and you’re not sure how much longer you can handle it. You’ve barely been at Nelson Road for an hour, but you’ve yawned more than you’ve spoken. Jamie’s been sending you apologetic looks every time he passes you in the hall, but now the entire team is in the weight room as you bring the coaches their coffee.

You place Roy’s in front of him and he asks, “The fuck’s wrong with you?”

You glare. “Nothing. That’s rude to ask, anyway. I’m-” you pause to yawn- “fine.”

Ted looks between you and Roy. “Normally I’d side with the lady on this one, but you look dead on your feet. You been sleepin’ okay?”

“Yes,” you reply shortly. “I’ve been sleeping fine. I just don’t get a lot of it these days.”

“That sounds decidedly un-sexy,” Trent calls from his desk.

You snarl, “It isn’t,” then realize that Trent is undeserving of your anger. “I’m sorry. I’ve been getting like five hours of sleep every night this whole week. Me and my boyfriend just moved in together and we both talk like way too much. So we usually don’t fall asleep until late.”

The room fills with whistles and hoots from Ted, Beard, and Trent. Roy is stoic as always.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” Ted grins. “What’s his name?”

You hesitate. You’re pretty sure Jamie would be okay if you told Ted, but you’re not sure you really want to. You let the silence stretch on for a beat too long, and Trent’s on you like a vulture.

“It’s someone here, isn’t it?” he asks.

“No,” you reply, but it’s not convincing. It’s hard for you to lie when you’re this tired.

Jamie and Sam choose this exact moment to come into the locker room to grab water bottles. Jamie glances at you and you make the mistake of glancing back. It’s just for a second but Trent catches it with his stupid eagle-eyes.

“Oh shit,” he says.

You round on him. Maybe he does deserve your anger. “Don’t say anything,” you warn.

He zips his lips as Roy says, “Why are you being so fucking weird? We know you’re fucking lying. Just say which of these little pricks you’re dating and get some sleep like a fucking normal adult.”

“I’d be able to get regular sleep, except you’ve been waking me up at fucking 4am!” you explode.

The room goes silent.

“Fuuuck,” Roy whispers. “Fucking Tartt? You’re dating- fuck, you moved in with fucking Tartt?”

“Yes,” you groan, “We’ve been together for six months and it’s probably the most serious relationship I’ve ever been in, and I know how it sounds but we really like each other. Higgins already knows because of HR shit but other than that, it’s been private.”

Ted and Beard have matching open-mouthed smiles. It would be a little scary if you hadn’t known them for as long as you have.

“That’s the most adorable shit I’ve ever heard in my whole life,” Beard says.

“Hold on,” Trent interjects, “does this mean you and Jamie have been staying up late every night talking?”

“Yes,” you reply primly. “And then this prick bangs on our door at fuck-thirty in the morning and I’m awake for the rest of the day.”

Roy says, “Right,” very slowly. “Is that fucking why he wasn’t wearing fucking trousers?”

All eyes turn to you.

“I’m not answering that,” you say. “In fact, I think I hear Higgins calling me. I have to leave right now.” You back out of the room and down the hall before anyone can say anything else.

The coaches’ office is silent for a moment before they all clamor out of their seats to chase you down the hall. They have so many questions but first, they’re going to yell at Higgins for keeping it a secret.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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2soulscollide · 1 year

Text

The right FREE tools to write a book

hello hello, it's me!

today I was thinking of how much you loved my masterlist featuring some free tools for writers, and I thought I would do something like that again but, this time, featuring just one or two tools per step while getting the best of "the writer's workbook" (which is also free).

before going any further, for those who don't know, "the writer's workbook" is, as the name says, a workbook for writers, with over 90 pages. it has lots of sheets divided into categories, to help you build the skeleton of your novel. (know more about it here).

however, we can get the most out of it using other complementary tools to ease this process.

Brainstorming

Reedsy generator - it's one of my favorites, and it can be quite useful when you're stuck and want to get an idea. you're free to make changes to it so that it is as unique as possible.

Mindmap

Lucidspark - although it has a premium version, I find it so helpful when it comes to making a mindmap. I've used it multiple times before, including for college assignments, and it's one of the best I've found so far.

Mindmup - I'm sharing this one here as an alternative to lucidspark, since this one doesn't require to create an account, and you have access to unlimited maps. however, in my opinion, it is not as good or intuitive as lucidspark is.

Come up with names

Behind the name - it's a classic, but one of my favorites. you can search every name you could ever imagine, and get its meaning, history, variations, etc. it still has some tools you can use such as a name generator, anagrams, and much more.

Make a profile

Fake person generator - although it was not created for authors, you might find it useful since it gives lots of details and you can be interested in some fields.

Character generator - this one was made for writers, and is simple and easy to use.

Family tree

Family echo - it's so simple yet so helpful.

Maps

Inkarnate - it has a paid version, but you can use it for free and create a great map.

Politics

Filteries - this is sooo complete and accurate!

hope this was helpful! have a nice day <3

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redclercs · 11 months

Text

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

iv. you and me would be a big conversation

— the one where both of you have big reputations.

warnings: this one got a little long sorry, bashing towards charles and y/n (i love them ok), taylor swift references,2.6k words.

masterlist ✢ next

FROM DATF1GURL ON TIKTOK: "IS Y/N Y/LN AFTER CHARLES LECLERC NOW?"

[female voiceover]: ❝(...) while it is true she has a contract with Elix the new MAJOR sponsor for Ferrari—horrible drink by the way—rumor has it y/n's actual goal is to get the monegasque driver to spare a glance her way... Like, okay girl, but you left a 3-year relationship five minutes ago, chill.❞

IN pure Taylor Swift fashion, y/n y/ln has found her own ‘Getaway Car’ in none other than the 25-year-old Monegasque Formula 1 pilot, Charles Leclerc.

While nothing’s been confirmed, (come on now, what celebrity will just confirm rumors of their own free will in this day and age? Screw you, PR agents) the actress has been seen at two Grand Prix and the Elix contract gives her good camouflage for being constantly photographed with her new beau.

No matter how much sex-appeal these two exude, let’s not forget that we have a victim here: Aidan Kim. How can you leave a three year relationship with the man that gave you everything and not even two months later you’re already with someone else?

Is it a rebound or are we looking at something serious? In your humble writer’s opinion it’s most likely the former. And let’s not forget what Taylor Swift, in her infinite wisdom, said: “Nothing good starts in a getaway car”, it doesn’t matter if it’s a Ferrari.

SEE ALSO:

→ Aidan Kim buys new home in Sherman Oaks.

→ Every celebrity present at the Miami Grand Prix.

→ Is y/n y/ln really done with RomComs?

May 13th, Los Angeles, California.

“ARE you sure this is who you want as your rebound, babe?” Victoria places the magazine down and turns her head to look at you, using the precise force and tilt for her sunglasses to slide down to the tip of her nose.

“Stop reading that garbage,” you warn, not bothering to change your position in the chaise-longue, you don’t even look away from the script in your hands.

The day started pretty well, sunny Los Angeles made you feel hopeful for the first time in a while as you opened the script Mildred sent you when you got back from Miami. A drama about a young widow. You can work with that.

“I just mean—” Vic shifts her whole body in your direction, “—You have options, what about Timothée? I’m pretty sure the Kylie thing is fake. And he wouldn’t say no to you.”

“Stop that, Vic,” this time you do look her way for emphasis, you mean it. “I’m not looking for a rebound, or anything else for that matter. I want a job.”

“Fine,” Vic makes a show of capturing her lip between her teeth to pronounce the “F” and lies back in the chair. “I’m just saying…”

You’re glad to be wearing sunglasses, so she can’t see the way your eyes rollback. To be fair, you’re at Vic’s house so she has every right to occupy the same space as you at any given minute. Which is all the time.

After the breakup you ran to Vic’s Los Angeles home and left the SoHo apartment to Aidan. Vic's house is amazing, with eight rooms, five bathrooms, a black granite kitchen and of course, the pool. But you miss New York, even if you can fit your own room two times in one of Vic's. At least, according to rumors, Aidan is moving out of the apartment so you might be able to return to it soon.

“I think it’s bullshit that they see me breathing near a guy and suddenly we’re dating,” you drop the stack of papers on your legs, startling Vic with the sound. “Bullshit.”

“It’s just tabloids, babe.” Vic goes quiet, knowing she’s annoyed you and now you feel guilty about that too.

“I know,” you sigh, picking the script back up. Suddenly you don’t like it that much anymore.

Of course you know it’s just tabloids. People talk shit just for fun, but you’ve been their main target for a few weeks now and you cannot wait for them to move on. Which seems unlikely.

You've never been more glad about turning down a Yankees game invite.

Following Ferrari’s disappointing Sunday and the respective mandatory Elix pictures, you hung around the Suite a little longer in aims of gathering your thoughts and the will to leave to meet Vic at another after-party.

“Hola y/n! I thought you’d left,” Carlos carried his bag in one hand as he struggled to put his sunglasses with the other.

“I’m about to,” you smiled at him, locking your phone. “You too?”

“Yep, going straight to the airport. See you in Italy?” he asked, running his now free hand through his black hair, all set.

“See you there, Carlos.” you waved him goodbye before leaning back on the couch.

Vic had apologized for the shenanigans she'd pulled the previous night, saying she knew she should have asked you instead of just running with things. So you were looking forward to the after-party, it would be fun to hang out with your best friend after making up.

It wasn’t even five minutes before Charles came out too, hanging up a call in his half-destroyed iPhone.

“Oh hey!” He greeted cheerfully, the bad aftertaste from the race wasn't evident in his demeanor anymore. They had their debrief and Charles was willing to let go of the negativity momentarily.

“Hi Charles,” your not-as-cheerful tone didn’t bother him one bit. “Are you flying back today too?”

You couldn’t picture yourself in an eight hour flight after everything they’d done today, but they’re not really regular humans.

“We’re driving to New York, actually,” his hand hovered over the refreshment table, until he picked one of the leftover Elix. Charles examined the black can he chose before speaking again, “We’re going to a Yankees game tomorrow.”

“That’s very nice, Charles.”

He hates Elix as much as the next person so you can't help but wonder why he drinks them even when the cameras are off. Carlos and you never do.

“Would you like to join us?” He offered, the last word deafened by the click of the can as he opened it.

You took a few seconds to process the question, long enough for Charles to down about half the can in one gulp.

“Thank you, but I’m flying back to L.A. tomorrow.”

Charles' mouth went down in one corner and you were uncertain whether it was your answer or the taste that caused it. He tilted the can making the remaining liquid dance.

“Maybe another time,” he added, downing the rest of the blueberry flavored Elix. “Don’t worry.”

“Thanks for asking me, though,” you smiled, grabbing your purse from the couch. You had recovered enough energy already, and you didn't want to miss the DJ set at the party. “I hope you enjoy it.”

“Thanks y/n,” his mouth was still frozen in that slight wince and you shook your head gently at the sight of the empty Elix. “I'll see you in Italy, right?”

“I’ll be there.” you assured, although you hoped not. But a week didn’t seem like enough time to secure a gig.

YOU land in Italy the day the Grand Prix gets canceled. Which is very much just your luck. It’s for the better, though, safety must always come first.

It makes no sense to run back to America when you have nothing else to do, so you resolve to stay in Rome and catch up with a few friends you have around. Matilde Bassi being the best among them, and she would rather die than let you stay in a hotel instead of her house.

"I said no," she repeats, and her accent—although barely even there— reminds you of Charles for a split second, before your brain lets go of the image. "I've told you a million times to come visit, I won't let you stay in a hotel."

You give up after that because you don't want to annoy her. Matilde has quite the strong character, which is the reason she got to Broadway in the first place. After years of being in New York, where you met her, she decided to move back to Italy. Mati, still pursuing her passion, is currently the European public's favorite Juliet.

The fact that all of this goes down in a phone call gives you time to pick up what little stuff you've gotten out of your suitcase and check-out of the hotel before Matilde gets there to take you to her house.

─────────

"So, how are you doing?" she asks, refilling your wine before moving back to the stove, where she's cooking your favorite Italian meal.

"I'm fine, I've told you," you chuckle, sipping the drink. Her house is beautiful too, and spacious, but it feels homey compared to Vic's. "Taking it easy."

One thing you tend to forget about Matilde is how she is able to see right through your bullshit, and that's exactly what she's doing now.

"You never take it easy, y/n. And I mean how are you really? How do you feel? A lot has changed for you lately." she flips her head back to remove a stray curl of hair out of her eyes, "You can be honest."

"I'm fine, seriously, Mati," you know drinking so fast will make the wine go straight to your head but you'll do anything to avoid really talking about this. Which is unfair, Matilde is being genuine.

"You moved from one coast to the opposite and you're fine? What are you working on right now?"

You sigh, managing to smell your own alcoholic breath. "I'm with Victoria, and I've lived in Los Angeles before, while filming, it's not a big deal. As for work... I'm just– picking some stuff out, seeing the best options."

Matilde nods and turns around to grab two plates from the sky blue cupboards behind her. "Are you planning on going back to New York?"

"Yeah, hopefully," you get up to help her and she gestures for you to take a seat again. "My name was on the lease and Aidan is moving out of the apartment, according to People Magazine, anyway so..."

"Your apartment was amazing," Matilde smiles, reminiscing the girls' nights you spent together while she worked in New York, it was always so much fun to be with Mati. "I hope you can go back. If that makes you happy, that is."

She manages to carry both steaming plates and the bottle of wine to the table, and finally sits down. "Well, enjoy!"

"Thank you, Mati, this smells amazing," you missed Mati's cooking so much because no matter how many Italian restaurants you visit, nothing compares to hers, and you're also glad to have something on your stomach that will make the effects of the wine go away.

Or that's what you hoped for anyway, because you're halfway through another cup of wine, almost done with your food, when you drop the grenade you've left unpinned in your brain for 2 months.

"I don't miss him," you whisper, resting the fork gently on the edge of the plate, between two of the yellow flowers painted on it. "Am I a horrible person because I don't miss him?"

You gave it a lot of thought ever since you took the plane from New York to L.A. the night you said no. You thought—still think—there's something wrong with you because the feeling that something was ripped out of your life and the hole that it left would never be filled never even appeared. There was no hole, it was a scar already, and you picked at it trying to make it bleed. But nothing happened. Nothing ever happens.

"You're not a horrible person, y/n don't say that."

You're glad Mati doesn't let silence fall between you, it would have made you regret everything that left your mouth, but she's already reaching for your hand and you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

Mourning the idea of someone is worse than mourning their absence. And you had missed Aidan for a long time, even when he was with you.

"I just feel awful for leaving and not wanting to go back, I hate myself for being okay."

The rejected proposal is something you keep close to you still. You love Mati, and you trust her, but you cannot bring yourself to touch that subject.

Mati squeezes your hand, her food forgotten as well. "I'm glad you're okay. I liked Aidan, too. But you're my friend, and I love you and all I want is for you to be better than okay."

"Thank you Mati," it's her words that actually get the tears flowing, and you wipe them quickly with your free hand. "Sorry for dumping this on you so suddenly." you give a choked laugh before clearing your throat.

"I did tell you you could be honest," she laughs, giving your hand a last squeeze before letting it go. "How about we just go straight to dessert?"

You nod, grateful that she leaves to get the tiramisu you bought on the way home from the fridge so you can pull yourself together.

MONACO welcomes you the Sunday before the Grand Prix. Which you are excited about, for the first time in a while.

Matilde proves to be the best company once again, knowing her way around Monaco like it's her own home. You're glad she's attending the Grand Prix too and you were able to get her into the Ferrari Suite with you, unlike your failed attempt at Miami with Vic.

One thing you find out about Monaco pretty soon, is that they're obsessed with Charles Leclerc. He's in buses and billboards and you can see people waiting to catch a glimpse of him outside grocery stores. It warms you up inside that he's so loved in his own country, not many people can relate.

You don't love, however, that the articles online have brought attention to your presence in Monaco too. And although it’s far less than the one Charles gets for obvious reasons, the heat that comes from it is closer to ire than affection.

Still, you take photos with those who ask on your way back from dinner with Mati and ignore the “you’re here for your boyfriend, huh?” Questions that come from people with their cameras millimeters away from your face. Saying “it’s not like that” isn’t worth the effort because it won’t work.

May 23rd Montecarlo, Monaco.

Mati is introducing you to other celebrities that attended the All-Stars game, when Charles comes back from signing autographs to the part of the stadium where you are. He's messy, dirty and all dimples—again— which you start to find annoying. Although it's mildly sweet how he always smiles at you when your eyes meet, you cannot allow yourself to think of that too often. He's a nice guy, he's being nice.

"Hi y/n, I thought I'd see you until the weekend," he greets you, still drying off the sweat from the back of his neck.

You shrug, making way for a couple of guys who give Charles a bro hug, joke about the several mistakes he made during the match and then leave, acknowledging you in the form of a quick scan.

"Good game," you can't help the small laugh that follows the compliment, but Charles only smiles wider.

"I'm a natural," he replies, but takes his hand to the place he hit when he face planted. "Don't you think?"

"Definitely," you laugh again, raising both eyebrows. "I'm just glad you stick to racing."

"Me too," it's his turn to shrug, and run a hand through his damp hair.

“How was New York?” You look over your shoulder to Mati, who’s holding her own conversation a few steps away. “Did you have fun?”

“It was really fun, noisy, big. It’s a shame you couldn’t come.”

“Thank you again for inviting me. I do miss New York, but i had things to do.” You let the air out of your lungs hoping, albeit stupidly, he can’t see in your face that the things you did was read stuff on the internet about the two of you together.

“Oh you live in New York? That’s wonderful, so you know your way around. Lorenzo and I got lost.”

You chuckle gently. “It happens to the best of us.”

“Ready to go?” Mati puts an arm around you, smiling. “Hello, Charles.”

So it is true everyone knows each other in these circles.

“Hello Matilde,” Charles smiles back at her, “I won’t keep you any longer, y/n.”

“No worries, it was nice seeing you.”

“I’ll see you soon, maybe I can show you a place or two in Monaco.” Charles is very casual, but his eyes don’t leave yours for a heartbeat.

Matilde tilts her head and her ponytail falls into your shoulder, the small hairs tickling your ear.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks Charles.” You shake your head away from Mati’s and wave Charles goodbye as he walks by you.

“My advice,” Mati is still holding you by the shoulder. “If I may be nosy… You don’t want to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Charles Leclerc. You don’t wanna do that, y/n.”

You roll your eyes but Mati is unbothered by the gesture. “I’m not doing anything, Mati. He’s being nice, we see each other every weekend.”

“He is a homie hopper, trust me, run don’t walk.”

You tsk, making her shake her head this time. “If it makes you feel better, I’m not doing that, never, ever.”

And although you intend to keep your promise, the first thing you do once your phone is hooked to the hotel’s wifi, is google Charles and his reputation.

Even if you know better than anyone that the internet is full of lies.

─── team principal radio: ❝hello! i really enjoyed creating this chapter, especially the fake media so i hope you've enjoyed it too. thanks for reading!♡❞

✰ paddock club members: @majx00

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #cl16 x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #cl16 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #f1 x y/n #cl16 fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x you #f1 x you

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neptuneiris · 2 months

Text

Behind the Scenes | (epilogue)

Behind the Evolution

pairing: actor!aemond × fem!reader

summary: things seem to be going well, but there is still a missing part in Aemond's new life and that is you.

word count: 12.4k (I know it's really long but it's totally worth it, I swear😭)

previous part • series masterlist

and me again, apologizing for the long delay. my life has been so crazy lately, i have no time and i miss writing, but it's finally here and i hope you like it a lot🤗

it took me a long time to give you a good chapter, so please comment and let me know your opinions, it really doesn't cost anything.

to break your head writing and not get any comments is sad, any writer will understand me, so please and i would appreciate it a lot😭🙏🏻

now yes, read and enjoy!

warnings: aemond and aenar melting our hearts, fluff, sexual content, smut.

Life has become better for both, you and Aenar, and you are very grateful for that. Now, your days go by with a calmness that you have never experienced before.

You are happy and above all Aenar is happy, who radiates joy and happiness at all times, with his laughter always filling the air, a melody that reminds you how lucky you are to have him in your life.

There is honestly nothing better for him, feeling very grateful to his dad and also to the Targaryen—Hightower family.

Aemond has been a pillar of support and love since this new chapter of your life began.

His dedication and commitment to Aenar has been unwavering. Also his family has been a network of support and love that have welcomed Aenar and you with open arms.

And this is exactly what you think about every morning you wake up, realizing how much your life and Aenar's life has changed, for the better.

You yawn, carve your eyes and linger for a moment staring at the curtains in your room, where the sunlight reflects and paints a soft glow on the walls.

Then when you feel fully awake, you head to Aenar's room to check on him, watching him sleep in his crib, where you mostly remember the sleepless nights you had to go through since he was born.

But now the peace in the room is palpable and you lovingly watch your son sleep soundly.

He is now exactly one and a half years old, and you and Aemond continue to devote all your effort and love to ensure his well-being.

Together, you change diapers, take care of him, prepare his meals, buy his necessities and take him for walks in the park, enjoying every moment shared with him.

From the beginning, you and Aemond committed to help each other in Aenar's upbringing and that's exactly what you do. And considering that Aenar is now of age, there comes the exciting moment when he babbles his first words more clearly.

It was one day after Aemond comes home from work and the three of you are in the living room watching the movie that Aenar loves lately and always wants to watch, Cars.

When suddenly, he makes a sound, like some kind of playful babbling that catches yours and Aemond's attention almost instantly.

"Ma-ba-ba," he says as he moves his arms up and down, as if he's reaching for something more than just the words, "Ma!" he exclaims, with a huge smile.

He's sitting in the middle of both of you and you smile nervously at once, as you feel your heart start to beat too hard from excitement.

"What is it, baby?"

You say in a honeyed tone, taking him in your arms tenderly and sitting him on your lap, making sure he can see you and Aemond.

"Mo-ma!" he exclaims with a beautiful smile, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and a spark of amusement.

"You mean 'mommy'?" Aemond also tells him in a honeyed tone, stroking his silver hair lovingly. "Yeah, my little one?"

"Mo-ma," Aenar repeats, raising his arms again, watching his daddy with the same happiness and adoration.

"Mo-mmy," Aemond pronounces slowly, precisely, pointing at you tenderly, "Mommy," he emphasizes, smiling adoringly. "She is your mo-mmy," he continues, pointing at you once more, "Can you say 'mommy'?"

Your smile doesn't fade as you watch your little one try to pronounce that special word with Aemond's help.

You even join in and repeat the same word back to him in the same way, as Aemond gives him more patience and continues to encourage him to say the whole word.

"Mo-mmy," Aemond repeats him.

Aenar frowns with concentration, as if trying to decipher the secret of the words.

"M-moo."

"Mo-mmy," Aemond repeats again with excitement and anticipation, almost getting there.

Aenar moves his lips, as you exchange a nervous smile and glance with Aemond, your hearts beating in unison as you hold Aenar's small hands between yours.

Your gazes meet, too, communicating a mixture of shared excitement and anticipation.

And then, it happens.

With a concentrated effort, Aenar points to you and with his eyes shining with excitement, he emits a sound that seems to contain all the love and joy in the world.

"M-ommy," he babbles, his tender, trembling voice filling the room.

And in that moment, your heart fills with overwhelming happiness and your eyes fill with tears of joy and melancholy as you look down at your child, your lips quivering with pent-up emotion.

"Yes, my baby!" exclaims Aemond happily with a huge smile, leaving a resounding kiss on his cheek to then look at you with excitement and longing.

Aenar laughs and is thrilled by the way you both smile and celebrate his first word, while you pull him closer towards you and start leaving repeated kisses on his cheek, hugging him with love and also congratulating him for his good work.

Aemond can't contain his emotion and joins in the embrace, wrapping his family in a warm and loving hug.

Tears also glisten in his eye as he gazes at his son with indescribable pride, knowing that this moment will be etched in their hearts forever.

And the three of you celebrate this precious moment, immersing themselves in the joy and excitement of this magical moment.

And you stay there, in the living room, surrounded by the scattered toys and Aenar's playful laughter, while you ask him to tell you mommy one more time and Aemond, as excited as you are, records it and sends it to his mother and siblings, announcing the great news.

But Aenar's adventure doesn't stop there.

Soon, both of you, and especially Aemond, encourage him to venture out on his first steps.

With each shaky and brave attempt, they celebrate his accomplishments, being part of each small step towards his growth and development.

Their laughter fills the house as he takes unsteady steps, clinging to furniture and seeking balance, while Aemond and you stand around him, arms outstretched, ready to catch him should he stumble.

Not only at home Aenar tries to take his first steps, also at the Targaryen—Hightower mansion, where Helaena and Daeron together with Alicent also encourage him and take care of him while he walks and holds on to the furniture.

Until the moment finally arrives in the garden of your house.

The warm afternoon sun caresses the garden, painting every corner of the green lawn with warm and golden tones, creating a cozy and lively atmosphere.

For a while now Aemond has been walking with Aenar all over the lawn. Although he has no object to hold on to, Aemond guides him gently and patiently, holding him and encouraging him to take each step bravely.

You watch them from the kitchen windows, having finished washing a few dirty dishes, smiling as Aemond makes playful airplane sounds and Aenar laughs.

As he moves forward, his confidence grows, his steps become steadier and steadier, guided by his father's unconditional love and support.

Until eventually you decide to join in.

You sit on the grass, at a considerable distance from them, neither too long nor too short, with an encouraging and proud smile on your face.

Aenar, more excited than before to see you join them, his little hands clasp tightly in his father's, his eyes shining with a mixture of happiness and determination.

"Mommy!" he exclaims happily, pointing at you and you laugh.

"Do you want to go with mommy?" asks Aemond in a honeyed tone.

"Mo-mommy," he babbles, wiggling excitedly in his father's arms, still standing.

Aemond laughs and holds him firmly by both hands.

"All right. Are you ready, champ?" he asks him, his voice full of enthusiasm and encouragement.

"Come on, honey!" you encourage him, stretching your arms out to him, "Walk to mommy, come on."

Aemond encourages him and still holding him, with an uncertain but determined step, Aenar lifts one foot, followed by another, his tiny feet pressing against the soft grass.

"That's it, baby!" exclaims Aemond with joy, his smile lighting up his face.

With each step, your heart pounds in your chest, pride filling you as you watch your little one intently and lovingly.

"Well done, keep it up baby!" you encourage him, reaching out your hands to him, "Come on, come to mommy."

With a glint of determination in his eyes, smiling Aenar keeps moving forward, his steps still hesitant but full of courage. His little hands cling tightly to those of Aemond, who guides him patiently and lovingly across the soft lawn of the garden.

As Aenar gains confidence, his steps become surer and more determined. And little by little, Aemond begins to let go of his little hands, allowing his son to take his first independent steps.

And with palpable care, Aemond walks behind him, stretching his arms around his little body to catch him in case he needs extra support.

And then it happens.

Aenar strides forward supporting himself, his giggles filling the air as he approaches you with determination, almost running. Your heart swells with pride and excitement at the sight of him as does Aemond.

"Yeah, yeah, keep it up, you got it!" you exclaim happily, unable to contain your happiness as you stretch your arms out towards him.

"Come on, come on," Aemond encourages him too, smiling, watching just as excited as you are about the moment.

And finally, with one last effort, Aenar takes one more step as he reaches toward you and falls into your open arms.

Laughter and congratulations fill the air as you pick him up and embrace him tenderly and excitedly, at the same time as he too laughs and doesn't quite understand his parents' huge smiles.

"You did it, my love!" you exclaim, full of amazement and unable to contain your joy.

You watch Aemond surprised and happy, where his gaze also shines with pride and amazement, as he reaches over and deposits a soft kiss on his son's hair.

Happiness and love fill the space between you, creating a moment you will treasure forever.

And after that memorable moment in the garden, Aemond's family witnesses Aenar's first steps as well. Helaena and Alicent decide to organize a picnic in the garden of the mansion and invite the whole family.

They are all spread out in the garden, the weak rays of the sun caressing their faces as they enjoy the lively afternoon, sharing laughter and conversation, with the sun about to set.

Aenar, full of joy and excitement ventures out once again to walk with the help of Aemond, his brothers and Alicent. While you find yourself sitting with Rhaenyra, her husband Daemon and Aegon at one of the tables.

You recently had the pleasure of meeting the rest of Aemond's family and Aenar as well.

Daemon's daughters, Baela and Rhaena are also here, as are Rhaenyra's eldest and youngest sons who also couldn't help but melt for Aenar.

There are other family members present as well, such as Rhaenys Targaryen and her husband, Corlys Velaryon.

You engage in conversation with Daemon and Aegon, but mainly with Rhaenyra and Rhaenys, while you watch from a distance as Aenar takes small, hesitant steps, but with his determination and joy evident in every movement.

Helaena, Daeron, Jace, Luke and Alicent watch him with pride and adoration, clapping and cheering him on with every step he takes, holding out their hands to guide him.

Alicent, with a tender smile, watches his grandson with love and admiration, while Otto Hightower nods approvingly, acknowledging the family Aemond has, even though he and you are not together.

Afterwards, the meal is served and everyone takes a seat at a large table, with Aemond at your side and Aenar on his lap, as everyone begins to talk about different topics of conversation.

Eventually also Helaena decides to take Aenar in her arms once both of you have already eaten to take him to play with little Aegon and little Viserys on the lawn, with Jace also helping her to supervise her younger siblings.

And even though both you and Aemond know that Aenar is in very good hands, like the protective parents you are, you can't help but watch him from time to time.

But it's more about watching him interact with Rhaenyra's younger children, the three of them laughing, playing and imitating car sounds, the three of them sharing their toys.

Then Rhaenyra introduces you more cordially to Rhaenys, wanting you to get to know each member of the family in depth, where almost immediately the three of them strike up conversation.

While Aemond and Daemon, like the protective fathers they are, watch with little smiles as Daeron, Luke and Joffrey entertain the younger children with their games and antics.

When again Aegon stands beside his brother and watches as the two of them watch the scene before them.

The sounds of laughter and commotion fill the air, as Daeron and his nephews immerse themselves in the infectious joy of the children and make them laugh, creating moments that will be fondly remembered for years to come.

Amidst the hubbub and fun, however, Aegon notices something else.

He watches as Aemond, his eyes shining with happiness, can't help but look away from you from time to time.

He sees you laughing and chatting with Rhaenyra and Rhaenys, and there is something in the way he looks at you that he has seen before that reveals his deep longing and affection.

"You haven't spoken to her?"

He decides to ask him, trying to broach the subject cautiously, causing Aemond to look at him instantly, confused and curious.

"With whom?"

"Y/N," he says quietly, pointing at you with his gaze, "You know... you haven't talked to her and tried to get her back?"

Aemond averts his gaze, his blue eyes reflecting a mixture of longing and reserve.

"No, I haven't," he says with some resignation.

Aegon looks at him with compression but also with some disappointment, for he understands his position but still, if he were him, he would at least try to talk to you.

And he waits for you to tell him more, but he doesn't.

"And why not?"

Aemond lets out a sigh.

"Because I don't want to ruin things between the two of us," he says sincerely, "Talking to her about it might make her uncomfortable. She might even feel in a bad position and I don't want that."

Now it is Aegon who lets out the sigh.

"Bro," he places a hand on her shoulder, "If you don't try you'll never know what will happen. Maybe things will turn out differently and you might be surprised. But you'll never know if you stand by and do nothing."

Aemond thinks over his brother's words, feeling the weight of his advice. His gaze is lost on Aenar, laughing and playing with the other children who continue to fill the air with their laughter and joy.

But the truth is, Aemond has thought about doing it, talking to you.

But he honestly feels torn between his desire to do it to see what might come of it and to preserve the harmony between you and him.

A mixture of emotions engulfs him, the longing to try to reconnect with you, mixed with guilt and remorse for past decisions that caused you so much pain.

On the one hand, he sees how everything has improved between you, how Aenar's presence has woven a stronger bond and how together you have found a new form of happiness.

But on the other hand, uncertainty washes over him, reminding him of the wounds of the past and the possibility of reopening those scars.

He wonders if you, like him, have put the pain and disappointment behind you, if you would be willing to give him a second chance.

Do you still love him, or has that been replaced by indifference or even resentment?

Aemond sighs, feeling the weight of indecision on his shoulders.

"I know," he replies, his tone heavy with contemplation, "But I don't want her to feel pressured, or worse, to think I'm trying to force something that's no longer there."

"Aemond, I understand your point and what you're considering," he tells him with his expression reflecting a mix of empathy and determination, "You don't want to lose her trust, you want to make things right and that's fine," he assures her, "But if she meets someone new....

He starts to say and Aemond's whole body immediately tenses up, instantly observing him with a serious look and his open eye completely attentive, not liking to hear that.

But that is exactly the reaction Aegon expected and he continues speaking to prove his point. Though he senses the tension in his brother and proceeds cautiously.

"If she meets someone new, wouldn't you rather have tried to fix things before that happens?"

Aemond ponders his brother's question, feeling the weight of his words. For a moment, his mind fills with images of you with someone else, and the thought fills him with an awkwardness he can't deny.

"I'm just saying that if you don't try and that happens, you're going to regret it later," he explains to him, "And worst case scenario, if you decide to talk to her, at least you'll know you tried."

Aemond mulls over these new words, letting the prospect of an uncertain future with and without you intermingle in his mind. Images of a possible you together with someone else cause him a pang of pain and a sense of emptiness he can't ignore.

"I know," he finally admits, his voice heavy with thought and concern, "I understand what you're saying, Aegon. And you're right that I don't want to regret not trying. But I'm also afraid that..." he smacks her lips, "That this conversation will ruin everything between us."

Aegon feels disappointment wash over him and has no choice but to resign himself and take it for granted that he will not muster the courage to speak with you.

So he lets out a long breath, gives him a friendly pat on the shoulder and nods sympathetically. And Aemond seeing it, notices the disappointment in his gaze.

"I'll think about it," he promises him, wanting to give him that hope and himself as well.

And Aegon places a small smile.

"Just don't think about it too much."

Meanwhile, the play between the children continues with joy and excitement, each laugh and shout filling the air with a melody of happiness. As the entire Targaryen-Hightower family immerses themselves among the familiars in conversation.

Until eventually the sun begins to set on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink.

You talk with Alicent and Helaena, while Aenar exhausted but happy, snuggles in Aemond's arms, surrounded by all the love and affection of his family, until it's time to go home.

The darkness of night envelops the room, interrupted only by the faint glow of the night lamp and the clock showing two-thirty in the morning.

Aenar's cries fill the room as you swing him in your arms from side to side, walking around the room, stroking his back and trying to soothe him.

You feel a knot of worry as you watch him squirm uncomfortably in your arms, feeling his little body warm and his skin damp with tears.

His cheeks are pink and his eyes are red, as you try to wipe his face and try to get him to calm down, but the medicine hasn't soothed his pain and he also refused to take a bottle baby.

You run a hand over your face, still feeling drowsy and trying everything you can to be able to calm him down.

"Shh, shh, my love, it's okay," you whisper in a soft voice, rocking him tenderly and gently, "Mommy's here, sweetie."

But Aenar's persistent cries don't abate for the next fifteen minutes and as time passes, you don't know what else to do.

You know it's a fever, but it's not high, as the thermometer indicates. But you don't know why the medicine doesn't work.

But you do know that if it is very serious, you will have to take him to the hospital. But you know you can't do it alone, you need help and right there you decide to call Aemond despite the time.

With Aenar still in your arms, you carefully take your phone and dial his number, hoping that he will answer in the late at dawn. But he doesn't answer the first call.

Aenar shrieks louder and you dial again, pacing around the room, desperate and frustrated, still trying to calm him down and redialing Aemond as many times as it takes until he answers.

Until he finally does.

"Aemond?" you call out to him hopefully, with urgency and relief.

"Y/N?"

You hear his deeply hoarse, sleepy voice on the other end of the line.

"I'm sorry to wake you but I need your help."

Aenar's cry sneaks through the line, causing the dream to quickly fade from Aemond's system.

"What? What's wrong? Is everything okay?" he asks, concerned and attentive.

"Aenar is sick, he has a fever but it's not high. He won't stop crying, I've given him medicine and it's not working. I've been like this for almost an hour," you explain, your voice trembling with worry, "I-I don't know what else to do."

Aemond jumps out of bed, feeling the worry take hold of him as he pulls on a t-shirt and tennis shoes, not dropping his phone from his ear.

"I'm on my way, okey?" he says in a determined voice, as he hurries to get dressed and leave his room, "Don't worry, I'll be there soon enough. Just... keep trying to calm him down."

His voice is full of anxiety, worry and urgency as he tries to calm your nerves as well as his own.

"Okay," you murmur.

And each cry through the line only fills Aemond with more and more worry and it also breaks his heart to hear his little boy cry like that.

While you can hear the background noise, like the jingling of his keys and the buzzing of the door lock as it opens.

"I'm on my way out right now," he assures you, his tone urgent but comforting. "Don't worry, Y/N. I'm coming."

Meanwhile, you struggle to remain calm as you hold Aenar, your nerves on edge as you listen to her steady cry.

And as you wait for Aemond to arrive, you strive to soothe him, rocking him gently and whispering comforting words. But each time you try to comfort him, his crying becomes more intense and your concern grows in tandem.

And it's only made worse by the fact that you feel time seems to slow down and every second feels like an eternity.

Until finally you hear the sound of the door downstairs and your heart leaps with relief that it is Aemond.

It is precisely because of situations like this that you both made the decision that he also has a copy of the house key with him, so things are easier for both of you.

Then you hear his hurried footsteps up the stairs and when the door to the room opens abruptly, Aemond enters with his worried but determined look.

And you watch him with complete relief.

"Hey," you try to smile in the midst of the worrisome situation, still cradling Aenar against your body.

"How is he?" he asks, almost running to both of you.

"He won't stop crying," you tell him, feeling a lump in your throat, as Aemond runs one of his hands through his son's silver hair, "And the medicine still isn't working."

He nods with compression but still with concern.

"Hey, hey," he says softly, lovingly, still stroking his hair and yet still looking concerned, "What's wrong, my little boy?"

Aenar only cries harder and he begins to examine him.

With delicate hands, he checks his temperature and gently pats his forehead and cheeks, while Aenar continues to sob and writhe in your arms. Aemond frowns, concerned about his son's fever and the distress he is experiencing.

"It's probably because of the discomfort."

"So what are we going to do?" you ask, desperately searching for a solution to alleviate your son's suffering.

"Let's give him a bath," he propose, "It will bring down the fever and we'll also give him some more medicine. We'll see if that will make him feel better."

You nod, trusting him and thinking it's a good idea.

Aemond takes his son in his arms and Aenar clings to him tightly, while his tears keep falling down his chubby pink cheeks. And you quickly head to his bathroom to get everything ready.

Aemond cradles Aenar gently, feeling your heart clench at seeing him so distressed.

"It's okay, my little boy," he murmur to him, kissing his forehead tenderly, "Let's make you feel better, okay?"

Together you carefully place him in the tub, making sure the water is warm and comforting.

Aenar cries hoarsely and his body shivers slightly, but the comforting sensation of the warm water seems to calm him a little and his crying becomes quieter, but he still doesn't stop crying.

"Don't you think we should take him to the hospital?" you ask, still worried.

Aemond looks at you seriously and softly at the same time, his eyes reflecting the same concern you feel inside.

"I think we can handle it from here for now," he replies, his tone calm but confident, "The fever isn't too high and he's crying because he's not comfortable. But if the medicine doesn't work and he doesn't stop crying in another hour, we'll take him," he assures you.

You nod, that sounding good, and together you continue bathing Aenar, with you holding his little body very carefully while Aemond washes his hair and cleans it carefully.

After the bath, you both wrap him in a soft towel and carry him back to his room, where Aemond carefully administers another dose of medicine.

"I hope this helps," he murmurs, his voice full of hope as he watches Aenar with concern.

At least he's not crying like before but he's still crying.

Aemond gently cradles him once you put him in soft, comfortable clothes, pacing around the room, while you watch them attentively and worriedly, really not wanting both of you to have to take him to the hospital afterwards, hoping the bath and medicine will work.

Then finally Aemond feels him slowly begin to relax, sees his cries become softer and his little body loosen in his arms.

"I think you can let him sleep in his crib now," you whisper softly, feeling a great relief as you see Aenar slowly calm down in his father's arms, moving towards them carefully.

"No, he probably wants contact. If I leave him in his crib, he might cry again," he explain in an equally soft whisper. "But it doesn't matter, I can sleep with him on the couch."

You watch him intently and slightly worried.

"Are you sure? You won't be uncomfortable?"

He shakes his head, his expression showing serene determination.

"No, I'll be fine," he assures you gently.

He glances at Aenar, who now seems calmer, and then meets your eyes again, conveying a sense of gratitude and trust in you.

"Do you think you could prepare a baby bottle for him?" he asks you gently.

You nod with a comforting little smile.

"Of course."

The two of you walk down to the first floor, with Aenar still in Aemond's arms. You turn on the living room lamp and then head to the kitchen, while Aemond turns on the television with the volume low, providing a quiet background for the evening.

You open the cupboard, take out the baby formula and a clean bottle bottle. You carefully measure out the correct amount of formula and pour it into the bottle. Then you fill it with warm water and shake it gently until the mixture is completely dissolved.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Aemond settles down on the couch with Aenar in his arms, looking for the most comfortable position for both of them.

And seeing you return, he takes the bottle ready for Aenar.

"Thank you."

"I feel like you'll be uncomfortable," you insist, slightly worried, softly, "Are you sure you'll be able to sleep?"

"Yes, don't worry," he tells you disinterested, softly, "Besides, look at him," he points to Aenar, "He's already comfortable, he's feeling better and I don't want him to cry again."

You let out a long breath, as he is right.

But you interrupted the poor man's sleep at midnight, for an emergency, yes, but that he now sleeps on the couch is not acceptable to you and you feel sorry for him.

But Aenar is already calmer in his arms and that relieves you too much. And besides, it seems like the only option.

"I'll get you a pillow and a few blankets," you tell him, heading for the stairs.

And soon enough, you carefully place a pillow behind his back to bring him more comfort and then cover him and Aenar with a soft, warm blanket for the cool night.

Aemond settles in gracefully, thanking you softly, carefully adjusting Aenar in his arms and allowing his little one to drink from his baby bottle.

And as he continues to settle into his father's comforting arms, feeling the warmth of his body envelop him and enjoying the bottle, his breathing becoming calmer and more regular, Aenar finally falls asleep.

And that's when the feeling of total relief finally comes over you as you see him asleep, calm and serene.

Aemond also feels all the tension and worry leave his body as he sees his son healthy and comfortable in his arms, sleeping soundly, making sure he is well at all times, taking care not to wake him up.

And with a sigh of relief, you settle on the couch next to him, wanting to be present and supportive in whatever is needed during the night, in case of anything.

And this exactly catches Aemond's attention, watching you slightly confused but still with that warmth in his gaze.

"What are you doing? Go to sleep."

"I'm fine here," you reply calmly, offering him a small soft smile.

"You should go get some rest," he gently urges you, "You were alone for a long time trying to make him feel better, now I can take care of him for the rest of the night."

"No, I won't be able to sleep peacefully," you explain gently, "I want to stay here and help in case of anything."

Aemond looks at you with appreciation, but also with concern and in that he disagrees.

"I understand that, but seriously, you need to rest," he insists with an understanding look, "I'll take care of Aenar. Besides you'll only be on the second floor and I'll come with you if anything needed or happens."

Your tongue runs across your lips, still hesitant as you watch him.

"Are you sure?"

He gives you a small comforting smile.

"Very. Go to sleep, don't worry, honey."

You can't help but feel a strange feeling inside you as you hear his nickname for you, surprising you, so you quickly look away, trying to look unaffected and feeling for a second nervous.

And finally after a brief moment of hesitation, you finally agree, aware that Aenar is in very good hands.

"Okay," you give in with a tired little smile, getting up from the couch, "But you know, if you need anything or anything happens, anything at all, let me know."

"Sure," he answers you with a nod, conveying reassurance, "Sleep well."

"You too, Aem," you tell him as you start to walk away towards the stairs.

Eventually as the minutes pass Aemond begins to resume sleep now with Aenar in his arms, needing rest and feeling somehow more relieved to have his little one in his arms as you can make sure he is okay.

And you too, already in your bed, drift off into your sleep now feeling relieved and with no more worries.

The clock changes from three in the morning to eleven, where the warm sunlight gently reflects your room, while you wake up and yawn, still feeling sleepy.

You check your phone and knowing that you still have to sleep, your need to check on Aenar is greater and the unconscious reason that made you get up after a few hours of sleep.

And once in the living room, Aemond and Aenar are resting peacefully on the couch, their breaths soft and even, immersed in their deep and peaceful dreams.

You place a soft, small smile on your face at the sight of them, definitely feeling better to see that Aenar seems to be better after the long, troubling night.

With light steps, you approach the couch, trying not to disturb the sound sleep of father and son.

Fortunately no daylight enters through the blinds covering the large windows of the living room, only the TV on and also the entrance to the kitchen illuminate it a little.

And as you reach beside them, you gently stroke Aemond's hair, who from the sensation and your comforting touch, slowly half-opens his eyes.

"Hmm?" murmurs in a sleepy, hoarse voice, blinking slowly.

"Aenar seems much better," you whisper to him with a reassuring look, averting your gaze to your little one asleep in his father's arms, "I thought in that maybe you could let him sleep in his crib so you can rest more comfortably too."

Aemond nods slightly, his expression relaxed but still sleepy.

With careful movements, he rises from the couch, gently holding his son in his arms as you head towards the stairs. And once in his room, he very gently deposits him in his crib and tucks him in with a soft blanket, making sure he's comfortable before walking away.

"He definitely looks much better," he tells you with a relieved tone, "He's having a very good sleep."

"Yes," you confirm with a soft smile, sharing his sense of relief, "Yes, it looks like the rest is doing him good," you say, watching Aenar lovingly as he sleeps peacefully in his crib.

Aemond exhales softly, letting out the pent-up tension of the night, which instantly catches your attention.

"And you slept well? Was it very uncomfortable?" you ask him with some concern.

"Oh, no, it was fine," he answers you with a small smile and carefree attitude, "The important thing was that Aenar felt better and..." he sighs, "We both had a very good sleep together."

You nod with a grateful expression, though your eyes reflect a lingering glint of concern.

"Thank you for coming and taking care of him," you murmur gratefully.

"No need to thank," he replies softly, returning your small smile.

You both say nothing for a few seconds and he yawns, showing obvious signs of accumulated tiredness after the night of worry.

"I think I should go home now," he says in a soft, sleepy voice, though his gaze still reflects concern for his son.

You frown slightly.

"You're still tired. You should get some more sleep," you tell him, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

He is hesitant, torn between wanting to rest and worrying about Aenar, which you notice.

"You don't have to go," you tell him softly, "Sleep in the guest room and later we can fix something to eat."

He lets out a sigh.

"Are you sure?"

"Very," you nod, "Now come."

Together you head towards the guest room, where you prepare the bed for him, handing him soft blankets and also pillows to make him sleep more comfortably.

Aemond arranges everything in his own way as well and as he does so, his hand brushes against yours briefly, sending an electric current through both of you.

You both look at each other briefly and remain absorbing the stillness of the room, silent. You look away almost instantly, a little embarrassed.

But then, in a burst of sincerity, Aemond breaks the silence.

"Remember that day when we drove to the coast?" he asks you, his nostalgic smile adding a special sparkle to his eye.

A flood of memories wash over you, that sunny day and the laughter shared during that trip, so you nod with a warm smile.

"Yeah, how could I forget," you reply softly, "It was a beautiful day."

The mention of that special day seems to open a door to a sea of shared memories.

"And that you fell in the sand when we got to the beach?" you add, with an amused smile.

He lets out a laugh and you immediately follow suit.

"Yeah, how could I forget," he replies with a chuckle, sitting up in bed, "I can still feel the sand in my pants."

"I still remember what you looked like," you reply with a laugh, feeling the warmth of nostalgia envelop you, "You had sand in your hair too."

Aemond looks to a specific spot, his eyes shining with the light of memories as he relives every detail of those days.

"I remember we spent hours searching for sea shells on the shore," Aemond adds with a nostalgic smile. "And you insisted on keeping them all in a bag, even though you could barely carry it at the end of the day."

You laugh softly, nodding knowingly.

"I'll never forget the moment you tripped over that giant shell and almost fell into the water."

Aemond chuckles, the sound filling the room.

"It was a close call! Good thing you caught me just in time."

"Yeah," you nod, taking a seat next to him casually, also reliving those moments in your mind, "I also remember when we would go to the movies and always argue about what movie to watch," you mention, your voice slightly tinged with fondness from past memories.

"And how we would always end up watching a movie that neither of us wanted to see," he adds with a knowing smile, recalling the light and playful arguments you both used to have.

As memories flow between the two of them, an atmosphere of warmth and complicity fills the room, also in an intimate and cozy way, as if time had stopped to allow them to fully immerse themselves in the past.

The closeness between your bodies becomes obvious and a comfortable silence settles between you as you immerse yourself in the nostalgia of those shared moments.

Aemond observes you with a deep gaze, full of tenderness and complicity.

"I remember that day at the lake," he murmurs, his voice soft as a whisper, "That summer we planned a picnic and dropped that pie in the water."

A playful smile appears on his lips as he mentions that memory and you can't help but laugh as you recall the scene. The memories seem to come alive between you, as if you are reliving those moments together once again.

"And how you tried to catch that giant fish with your bare hands," you add.

He lets out a soft laugh.

"Nothing worked exactly as I had planned," he admits, "But it was fun, don't you think?"

"Definitely," you nod with a smile, letting nostalgia wrap around you like a warm blanket, "They were happy times."

"And they still are," he murmurs, his tone laden with meaning as his eyes meet yours, "At least for me."

Your heart flips at his words, and in that instant, you are overwhelmed by the intensity of emotion that threatens to overflow inside you.

Suddenly, Aemond takes your hand gently, and a shiver runs through your body at the contact. His fingers intertwine with yours in a natural way, as if they fit together perfectly.

Every touch, every gesture, seems to charge the room with a palpable energy, as if the air itself were charged with electricity.

Instead of running from it, however, you decide to let yourself be swept up in the moment, not knowing exactly why but allowing the connection between him and you to grow even stronger.

"For me too," you confess, your voice barely a whisper.

A tense silence fills the air, charged with anticipation and possibility. And the pounding of both of your hearts you can hear it in your ears, echoing loudly.

"Really?" he asks you longingly, his eye shining with hope.

You nod softly, letting your eyes convey to him the truth of your words.

"Yes," you answer truthfully.

His gaze shines with gratitude as he looks into your eyes with that longing and intensity, and at that moment, the tension is palpable between you and as if following an irresistible impulse, also without too much thought, you both slowly approach each other.

Aemond leans fully towards you and you, as if there is an invisible magnet, are drawn in without too much thought and your lips meet in a soft but meaning-laden kiss.

There is insecurity and shyness at first, surprise even, as if Aemond senses that at any moment you are going to push him away with one blow, creating a brush between both lips, wanting to make sure that this is something you want too.

But you feel the same way he does too, and more than anything it's as if you're testing the waters before you dive in completely.

And soon enough that tension fades, replaced by a wave of warmth and familiarity.

He moves his lips against yours with more purpose, this being something he longed for since the two of you were reunited, when the universe decided to give him this second chance and now that it's finally happening, he can't believe it.

You gasp against his lips and raise one of your hands, placing it on the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you, as he places one of his hands on your lower back.

And then time seems to stand still, as you both sink into the kiss, your hearts pounding.

It is a kiss in perfect harmony and every touch, every sigh, every movement, is intense.

Gradually the pressure of the contact of lips against lips increases and the kiss becomes deeper and more passionate. Aemond feels as if he is floating and you remember the familiarity of it.

He slides one of his hands tenderly down your cheek as you gently caress his face and each touch is electric, sending currents of emotion through your bodies.

And when you finally separate, with your breath coming in short gasps and your heart pounding in your chests. There is a gleam of wonder and joy in Aemond's eye, while you are enveloped in a warm sense of accomplishment.

You both slowly pull apart, but keep your foreheads together, enjoying the proximity of each other

"What was that?" you ask, unable to look away from his bright, question-filled eye.

"I don't know," he answers you in a low tone, as if you're both sharing a secret, still unable to believe it, with that awe and longing, "But I've wanted to kiss you since the first time I saw you again."

You can't help but feel that flutter in your lower abdomen as you hear his words and you both stare at each other, plunged into the comfortable and meaningful silence.

When Aemond pops the little bubble and suddenly looks at you worried and sorry.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what happened," he mumbles, "Maybe it's not what you wanted and I got carried away—

"No, you don't have to apologize," you tell him instantly softly, "I think it was something we both needed."

"You wanted it?" he asks you still unsure.

"Yes," you confess, letting the emotion flash in your eyes as you dive deep into his.

Aemond smiles softly with tenderness, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb.

"I can't believe I waited so long to do this," he murmurs.

The warmth of his breath against your skin makes you shiver slightly, and without another word, he leans into you once more, seeking your lips with his in a kiss full of tenderness and passion.

He sucks on your lower lip with his mouth and you gasp, making him make his way into your mouth with his tongue.

And suddenly all you can think about is Aemond Targaryen.

The kiss is more needy, almost demanding, as his hand comes to rest in your hair and he pulls you fully into him, panting into your mouth, making you involuntarily start to move closer to his body.

Normally Aemond would think the two of you are just kissing and not going any further, but things begin to change the moment he notices your intention to sit on his lap, causing his alarm to disperse.

Both of your movements are more needy, almost letting go and he pulls away with a wet sound from your lips and watches you completely attentively and worriedly, his lips swollen and red.

"Y/N," he calls to you in alertness, "You're—

You don't let him finish, as again you kiss him without thinking too much and he doesn't object, kissing you back intensely.

And without stopping kissing him, you raise yourself slightly on the bed with the help of your knees, place a hand on his shoulder and drape a leg over his lap, sitting on top of him, bringing your hands to his hair.

He places his hands on your waist and both of your breathing begins to get heavy, with the room filling with the gasps and wet sound of kissing with each caress.

"Fuck-" he groans.

"Ae-mond," you sigh against his lips, beginning to feel that delicious ache between your legs.

And there's what I'd missed so much, too.

You saying his name like that, having you like that, kissing you like that, just everything about you that he can't believe is really happening.

Panting your name sends a wave of arousal throughout his body and he begins to feel the hardness in his pants.

He clings with more need to your lips and his hand grips your hair more firmly, gently tugging it away from your lips and planting soft, wet kisses on your neck, descending to your collarbone.

"Fuck, Aemond," you gasp, giving him more accessibility, your eyes closed and your lips parted.

He slowly moves back up the kissing path he drew on you and you lean in to kiss him again, repeating his actions, also leaving kisses on his neck, inhaling his deliciously masculine scent with a slight baby scent by Aenar.

You begin to feel the bulge in his pants, just below you, sending waves of excitement to your core that begins to tighten its walls around nothing.

And unable to help it anymore, you start rubbing your covered center against his hardness, kissing it and feeling yourself burning up inside, the room suddenly feeling too hot.

"Oh shit," Aemond gasps against your lips as you feel yourself rubbing against him, relieving a little of his need to find relief.

You roll your hips sensuously and with enough intensity that you both feel it all, causing you both to start breathing through your mouths.

He holds your waist tighter, panting against your lips and watching you as if you were a Goddess.

"You look so pretty," he says hoarsely.

This sends a new wave of arousal to your core and you also feel your cheeks light up.

And not knowing exactly what to say, you lean down to his lips again and take his lower lip in your teeth, pulling it free, causing him to move you more intensely on top of him.

"Take this off," you tell him between gasps, grabbing the edges of his shirt.

He does so without much thought, tossing it towards a spot in the room regardless, while you bite your bottom lip at the sight of his bare chest and run your hands over his white skin.

It's been years since you last saw him like this and he's not the only one who's been waiting for this since you both started being on the same page.

So you lean back in to kiss him and soon your own clothes on you start to bother you, so you take them off too, unable to resist any longer, revealing your bra.

Aemond leans back, watching you curiously and completely aroused.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," you murmur.

And that's just when Aemond no longer has any doubts.

You want this as much as he does.

So without further concern, he kisses you again and makes you rub against him again, feeling his hard cock begging to be released and relieved.

He runs his big, hot hands down your bare back, wanting to unbutton your bra, sending shivers and electric currents throughout your body making.

Your face and neck are on fire from his kisses and movements, making your whole lower stomach feel on fire as well.

He finally unbuttons your bra and pulls it across the room, leaning down to watch and admire you, feeling like his cock is going to explode at any moment at the sight of your breasts.

"Fuck," he murmurs hoarsely in delight.

He keeps one hand on your lower back, while the other goes up to one of your breasts, squeezing gently to do the same with the other, wanting to give them both equal attention.

He rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, making you gasp and arch your back at the feel of his calloused fingers on your soft skin, feeling so good.

"I missed these amazing tits, baby," he murmurs, now holding both breasts with both his hands, kneading them as he wills, "I can't believe I missed watching them fill with milk."

You moan and gasp loudly as he ducks his head and takes one nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking it gently but hard enough.

"Oh, yes," you whimper, pulling your chest closer toward his face.

He runs his tongue all over the areola and gently grazes the nipple with his teeth, while his other hand keeps squeezing the other with his long, firm fingers.

He releases the nipple with a wet pop and looks at you with that twinkle in his eye, still kneading them.

"Do you like it, baby?"

"Yes," you murmur, rolling your hips on top of his cock, "It feels so good."

He takes the other nipple into his mouth, giving it the same attention as the last, while you moan at the delicious sensation.

Then he releases it with a wet pop and kisses you again, as he lowers his hands to your waist and continues down to your ass, kneading both your cheeks and squeezing it appreciatively.

You roll your hips against him with more purpose this time, kissing him, unable to get enough of him, needing more.

You suck and nibble on his neck, your hands roaming the hairy, silver planes of his chest, moving down his belly and reaching the edge of his pants.

That's when you stop and raise your gaze to him, silently asking his permission without saying a single word, watching as he's expectant in his gaze, trying to control his shaky breathing and holding back completely from pouncing on you.

"Please," he looks at you needy and you don't need to hear any more.

You sit on his knees and with your hands you begin to undo the buttons, watching the huge bulge forming, while he reaches up a little to pull his pants down just enough, as well as his boxers.

And when you see it, erect, big, fully hard and with its red tip, anticipation and excitement sweep over you.

You move towards him again, making him lean back further, sitting on his stomach and gently taking his hard cock in your hand.

He sighs as he feels the warmth and softness of your hand envelop him, gasping as you begin pumping in a not fast enough but not slow enough rhythm on his cock.

"Oh-fuck, baby," he murmurs hoarsely into your face, his cheeks pink and his lips parted, "Oh God."

He moans as you run your thumb over the tip, smearing a drop of cum in circles around the fat head.

His head falls back, sighing in relief as he feels his cock getting that attention it needs, while you kiss his neck and your free hand gently strokes his hair.

"Does that feel good, baby?" you ask in a low, husky murmur in his ear, causing him to shiver.

He hums in pleasure, tilting his head toward you to look into your eyes.

"It feels so good," he says appreciatively, hoarse and panting, "It feels so fucking good."

You kiss his lips and he gasps into your mouth as your hand strokes him more frantically, your fingers soaked with his fluids enveloping his cock completely.

"Ah... fuck," he says in plessure, closing his eye.

You run your hand completely up and down, even touching his two hard rocks, causing Aemond to squint and eventually his breathing becomes more choppy and agitated, on the verge of cumming.

He finds it embarrassing that you've barely started to touch it and he's already about to make a mess of it, but that's not what you think.

You feel a sense of satisfaction and are concentrating on making him feel good, even if it means making him cum in your hand, when suddenly, he grabs you by the hips, stops your movements and lifts you abruptly.

He wraps your legs around his naked torso and gently places you on the bed, while he stands upright.

"You almost had me," he says in a husky voice with a playful little smile.

You bite your bottom lip as he removes his boxers and pants, standing completely naked towards you, then leans back down towards you.

He places one of his hands on your cheek and kisses you deeply, running his hand slowly and gently between the valley of your breasts, down your belly and finally reaching down to your sleep pants.

But you grip his hips tightly with your thighs, flooded with heat and arousal as his cock presses against your still covered center.

He rolls his hips against you, still kissing you, rubbing along your pussy dripping with your juices, while his hands caress as much of your skin as they can.

You try to roll your hips, craving more friction, but one of his hands presses you against the bed, pinning you down as he takes his time, rolling slow against you as much as he wants.

"Fuck, I bet you're dripping."

You whimper.

"Yeah? You're already wet for me, baby?" he asks condescendingly against your lips.

"Aemond," you moan, "I need you," you plead.

"Don't worry, baby. I'll give you exactly what you want, everything you want," he says with some affection to again trap your lips in a passionate kiss.

"Please."

You beg, desperately trying to move against him.

"Shh," he whispers, rolling his hips against you again, this time a little harder.

You moan and he smirks with some satisfaction, watching your every expression, loosening his grip on your body and his hand moves down to the edge of your sleep pants.

"Okay baby, let me see that pretty pussy."

His words entertain you and without a second thought, you lift your hips and remove your pants, also your panties, as Aemond moves the clothes out of the way and he smiles and feels his cock pulse as he watches you spread your legs for him.

With his own hand he strokes his nice big cock, admiring your naked body at his disposal as if you were not real.

"You're so fucking wet," he moans, moving closer to you again.

Then he finally takes pity on you and runs one of his fingers along your slit, instantly feeling your juices envelop him completely.

You moan and clench your thighs, as he slides his finger through your folds and you moan once again pathetically, biting your lips.

Then he finally slides his finger down and gently presses inside your tight entrance, to sink it between your walls, as he uses his thumb to massage your bud.

And you let out a whispery moan at the comforting sensation.

"Oh my—

An electric sensation envelops you, as he thrusts his long finger in and out, then adds a second finger, pushing further in and pulling them apart, stretching your walls.

His thumb gently massages your bud in circles, causing you to jerk in breath-stealing pleasure as you press against his fingers.

"Fuck!" you moan, closing your eyes.

"What is it, baby?"

He asks you through parted lips, admiring you.

"D-don't stop," you beg in a low sob.

He adds a third finger, stretching you even further as his thumb presses against your bud, making you shudder with pleasure.

He continues to stimulate and arouse you until you become a mess, whimpering and growing that feeling deeper and deeper inside you, on the verge of exploding.

He curls his fingers, sending another little jolt of electricity inside you, dragging his fingers in and out of your soaking wet pussy.

You bite the inside of your cheek, as Aemond's other hand reaches up to caress one of your breasts.

And just when you think you're about to cum, he notices your whole expression puckered in pleasure, your lips in a perfect 'O' and your eyebrows drawn together, with your breath hitching, he pulls his fingers away from your pulsing, needy pussy.

Immediately that liberating sensation disappears and you moan in reproach and disappointment, watching him confused and instantly completely dissatisfied.

"Be patient, baby," he tells you as he takes you by the waist and places you in the center of the bed.

"Aemond," you moan again in reproach, "P-please."

"You're going to cum but not yet."

He leaves you in the position he wants and you notice how he is still erect and completely needy, instantly your mouth watering at the prospect of this actually happening after years.

Your walls throb and clench painfully but deliciously around nothing, still in pleasure from feeling him inside you and also from the anticipation.

And Aemond sensing your needs, especially ruining your orgasm, finally takes appropriate pity on you and begins to line up against your entrance.

For him this is a challenge, as you are tight, tighter than the last time the two of you shared a bed, so there is that excitement and anticipation you are giving him for allowing him this moment.

But before he enters you, he leans into you and whispers in your ear.

"Are you absolutely sure about this, love? This is the best time for you to stop me now."

You don't give him an answer right away, all you do, completely desperate and wanting to make your honest decision more than clear, you grab his cheek, turn him towards you and kiss him deeply.

He gasps into your mouth and responds immediately to the kiss, as you move your hips beneath him, causing your bud to rub against his hot, hard cock, causing relief.

"Yes, yes, absolutely sure," you say into his lips, kissing him again, "I'm yours, take me any way you want."

And there it is.

Aemond is no longer in any doubt.

Completely pleased and full of pleasure, he slowly sinks into you, inch by inch and not a sound comes out of your open mouth, you hear absolutely nothing either, only the ringing in your ears.

You don't even hear his panting and grunting, you don't focus on anything because your vision blurs for a moment.

Until he goes completely still, holding himself inside you without moving to allow you to adjust to his size.

"Fuck me," he moans, closing his eye in complete pleasure as he feels you squeeze all of him deliciously, just as he expected, "You're so tight and hot, baby."

He kisses you again, but you all you can feel is his huge cock buried in you. All of it.

It's been so long and it's perfect, more than perfect... there's just no feeling like it and you'd missed it.

"Are you okay?" he asks you tenderly, watching you intently beneath him.

"Yes," you murmur, breathing shakily.

You feel full.

Your bodies are one.

And then Aemond begins to penetrate you with slow, deep but urgent movements, rocking his hips against yours.

A sigh escapes your lips at the first movement and you cling to his shoulders, sinking your face between his chest and neck, moaning, as he gasps and with his free hand spreads your legs wider for him.

"Don't you ever make me wait to bury myself inside this pretty pussy again, did you hear me?" he says hoarsely in your ear, like a warning.

He moves his hips faster and deeper, as you try to respond, but your words are garbled and you don't process them in your brain.

"Words, baby."

"Yes," you finally manage to say, "God, Aemond, yes."

"That's what I like to hear. Good girl."

His words and his gun envelop you and flood you completely, a heady sensation as he takes you.

With each thrust, you moan and gasp, your legs locking around his torso to feel him deeper inside you and your hands grabbing his ass so you can pull him into you.

You rock against him, clenching around his big cock every time your skins met.

"That's it, baby. Just like that-fuck," Aemond's voice breaks off with a growl, from the intense sensations.

"Yes, yes," you moan in his ear, music to his ears, biting his shoulder lightly afterwards.

His hand moves up your stomach to your breast, pinching and massaging it as you gasp louder and he grunts, still penetrating you as he increases the speed.

"Fuck, you're so fucking tight," he moans, moving slightly to get a better angle, "You feel so fucking good, baby."

You literally scream as he touches that special spot inside you with each thrust, making you temporarily see stars, moaning loudly without being able to help it, feeling so good.

And immediately Aemond's hand comes up to cover your mouth, silencing your sounds and also stopping the movement of his hips.

"I love hearing your every sound , but you have to be quiet, baby," he says condescendingly, "You don't want to wake our son, do you?"

He removes his hand when he sees you try to speak.

"Yes, I know, sorry," you say agitated, needing him to move inside you again.

"Keep your voice down, love," he says then kisses you.

And just as you both begin to move in perfect synchrony your mouths together, he again begins to move or rather roll his hips sensually, slowly and deeply, making you gasp into his mouth.

Slowly he begins to pick up the pace he had before and pulls his lips away from yours, kissing your neck as his hand again takes one of your breasts, moving down your collarbone until he takes in his mouth the nipple he is not giving attention to.

You arch against him and try not to moan too loudly, feeling so good and feeling that little flame again begin to ignite and grow inside you until it explodes.

"Fuck, Aemond. Deeper," you moan, one of your hands clenching the sheet tightly.

"I'm not going to last long the way you're squeezing me, baby," he growls.

Then he dangles your leg over his shoulder, creating a new angle for his thrusts and finally does as you ask, penetrating you deeper and harder.

"Oh God," you whimper, feeling a new intensity.

The head of his cock hits your soft spot as he thrusts in and out. And he leans into you, his skin glistening with sweat and seeing how beautiful you look beneath him.

"Would you give me another one?"

Completely filled with pleasure and feeling incoherent at how he's making you feel, you don't understand his words or what he's referring to, so he leans in to leave a kiss on your lips, wanting your attention.

"Another babe," he murmurs longingly, ramming you hard, "I wasn't there for my first son in his first few months because of my stupid decisions, but I'll do it properly this time."

You moan, rocking your hips against his, your whole face contracting in pleasure.

"Will you let me?" he murmurs with pleasure on your lips, caressing one of your breasts, "Will you let me get you pregnant, watch you get swollen with my child and these amazing milk-filled tits?"

You just nod, mind fuzzy to really understand but nod, wanting more, needing more, no matter what.

"Yes, yes, I will," you say completely drunk on pleasure, nodding quickly.

"We're going to be a real family, my sweet girl," he says sweetly against your lips, then leaves wet kisses on your neck.

You just nod again and after several more thrusts, you moan loudly again as he brings one of his hands down to caress your bud with his thumb.

And he quickly covers your mouth again with his free hand, not wanting to stop once more, not now, when he's taking you to the edge of the abyss as he keeps ramming your G-spot repeatedly and at the same time stroking it with his thumb.

And watching you like this, watching you take his cock so well, like you used to, is a pleasure he hasn't felt since the last time he did this with you, flooding him from head to toe.

Watching the woman he loves, her breasts swaying with each thrust, cheeks flushed and her eyes between wide watching him back, is for Aemond a sensation beyond intimacy.

"A-aemond," you moan, feeling yourself cumming.

He grunts, moving his thumb faster on your bud, panting and breathing hard, feeling his balls tighten.

"Come on, baby. I can't hold back much longer, come for me, I need you to cum first," he almost begs you, grunting, stroking your bud faster.

You feel a wave grow inside you, a powerful electricity, feeling every muscle in your body tense and your eyes close tightly, arching your back.

You moan highly at Aemond's name, your vision suddenly going blank, as the most intense orgasm of your life rips through you, as he continues to penetrate you faster and deeper.

His cock squeezes deliciously as he feels you squeeze him in that incredible way, fucking you through your orgasm, prolonging it and it feels so good.

Your walls crisscross around him, sucking him in as he grunts loudly, calling your name as he penetrates you, his cock throbbing harder and harder and moving inside you with more uncontrolled movements.

And finally, he comes.

You could swear you're left watching stars behind your eyes, as you feel all of his hot seed fill your insides and Aemond continues to move his hips very slowly inside you, grunting as you feel all of him fill you completely.

"Ohhh-fuck," he sighs, throwing his head back, his eye tightening and his brows furrowed, cheeks flushed.

His hot seed floods your womb and it was so much that it began to drip out of you.

Your legs lose strength, as does your whole body and you lie slumped on the bed, filled to the brim with Aemond's semen, with that gratifying feeling between your legs and trying to catch your breath.

Aemond slowly and carefully pulls his cock out of you with a hiss, making you shudder a little, then leans into you, leaves comforting kisses on your cheek and collapses beside you, also trying to catch his breath.

"Oh-shit," he sighs, pulling you closer to his body, hugging you, "Are you okay, baby?"

You just nod, as you snuggle into his chest, still shaken and completely overheated, so Aemond leaves a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

"I'll clean you up in a second, okay?"

"Okay," you sigh, with your eyes closed and licking your lips.

His care gives you tenderness and with what little strength you manage to regain, you raise your gaze to him and leave a soft kiss on his lips which he instantly reciprocates, smiling softly against your lips.

But as soon as all the heat of the moment goes down, he can't help but feel unsure and worried.

"It's okay if you didn't mean what we said," he begins to tell you, "I understand it was all for the moment. And I won't expect anything after this if it's just a one-time thing for you."

The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, filling the space between the two of you with a slight tension.

Also Aemond's anxiety is obvious, as if he is waiting for the world around him to crumble after what just happened, which foolishly only gave him hope.

But you with your gaze full of sincerity and affection, you run one of your hands over his face, gently removing the hair falling down his forehead.

"I meant it," you tell him in a soft voice, "What we said, what happened here...it wasn't just for the moment."

Her eye widens in surprise, her lips slightly parted as she absorbs your words.

A glimmer of hope shines in his gaze and his heart seems to lighten from an invisible weight.

"Really?" he whispers, her voice full of longing and relief.

You nod with a reassuring little smile, and before he can say anything else, you lean into him and kiss him tenderly, sealing your words with a gesture of affection and commitment.

The sunset gently caresses your face and Aemond's as you both sit together on a blanket in the huge garden of your house, sharing laughter and conversation while enjoying the food and the beautiful scenery that surrounded you.

You suddenly had the idea of wanting to have a picnic in the garden of your house and Aemond was not opposed to the idea.

You both talk about everything and nothing, immersing yourselves in each other's company and the tranquility of the moment, with the bushes, the colorful flowers and the green lawn.

Aemond smiles, watching you fondly, feeling grateful to have you by his side, while you are beaming, happy to be here with him, sharing this intimate and special moment.

And honestly, Aemond doesn't quite understand why you decided to give him this second chance.

In his mind, he relives these last few days, wondering over and over again what exactly has changed in you that made you decide to trust him again. Of course he feels grateful and very lucky, but he can't help but wonder.

And honestly you're not entirely clear either.

After everything you went through on your own, after you had to carry most of the weight on your shoulders in the beginning and you had to fight against almost everything to be able to support yourself and your child... then everything got better and better.

You don't have a clear answer, but something about the way he has gone out of his way so far to show his remorse and genuine desire to make things right gave you hope.

Aenar is completely happy when he is with him and really a father figure was never lacking.

These early years for Aenar are very important and your reunion with Aemond happened at the ideal time for Aenar to have that father and son relationship with him.

Aemond takes your hand tenderly and delicately, intertwining his fingers with yours as he looks at you lovingly.

"I don't want anything else, just you and Aenar," he tells you with a small smile, vulnerable but sincere, "I couldn't imagine a better place than being here with you."

You smile back at him, feeling a warm tingle in your chest at his words.

You move closer towards him and gently caress his cheek, bringing your forehead together with his, letting the peace and tranquility of the pleasant moment envelop you.

"I know I never told you before because I wasn't sure if I felt it anymore," you begin to say in a soft voice and Aemond listens to you carefully, "But I love you too."

Aemond smiles softly and he swear he feel his eye begin to water, unable to help it.

And without wasting a second, he leans into you and captures your lips in a soft, passionate kiss, causing you both to lose yourselves in the moment, enveloped in the warmth of your love for each other.

"I love you," he murmurs once again against your lips, watching you and holding you in his arms adoringly.

Again he kisses you again, sweetly, softly and with deep feeling and after a while, they continued to embrace, enjoying each other's closeness.

And together they kept talking, laughing and caressing each other, because it is the moment of peace and happiness for both of them, finally after a long time.

Aemond had been feeling the pressure of his work lately. The constant demand of rehearsals, recordings and events was draining him physically and emotionally.

And after much reflection, he decided to take a temporary break from his career so he could devote more time to his family and himself.

When he shared the news with his family, he expected some resistance or concern, but instead, he received overwhelming support.

His mother and siblings supported him in his bravery in making that decision, as well as expressed their joy at having him more present in their lives, just as you did when he told you about his decision.

His family was also very happy for him and for you when Aemond shared with them the news that the two of you are trying again, Aegon most of all was very proud.

And that evening in the garden, while enjoying the picnic with you, he hears a familiar little voice that instantly makes him smile and fills him with joy.

"Daddy!"

Aenar exclaims, running to them with open arms and a huge smile, with Aunt Helaena running after him, telling them that the little boy missed his parents.

Aenar throws himself into his arms and you laugh, leaving a soft kiss on his forehead, while Aemond hugs him and leaves repeated kisses on his cheek, making him laugh.

Both he and you feel a deep sense of gratitude and happiness.

And in that moment, surrounded by love and laughter in the garden, Aemond feels complete and at peace, with his little family.

general taglist:

@imaegonstargaryenswife0 @bellstwd @gibbsgirl7 @toodlesxcuddles @imsoshygirl @croatianprincess @gemini-mama @a-little-roony-mara @mysteris-things @zenka69 @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @duds31 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @eternally-passionate @bellaisasleep @ttkttt @aemshaircare @mellowdreamlandpost-blog @noodle81937 @mooncalvin @queenofshinigamis @n4tforlife @vexladin @dixie-elocin @wotcherpeak @watercolorskyy @shiny-trashs-blog @strangersunghoon @elysian0612 @skzenhalove @iloveallmyboys @cakescupcakesminicookies

#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond one eye #aemond x y/n #modern aemond #aemond targaryen smut

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0daylighthours0 · 1 month

Text

A Deep Dive into Milkvan and Byler's Development: If Milkvan Was Endgame All Along, Why Was it Written Like This???

SO. I've been rewatching st with my mother, who's never seen it before. And she was a fan of milkvan throughout seasons 1 and 2. Viewing those seasons again I could see why, they're cute. However, come season 3 and INSTANT distaste. And, listen, my mother is not the consciously shipping gal. She simply routes for main character pairings as writers intend, doesn't read between the lines, doesn't nothing. And she does NOT know my own opinions on the pairing. In other words, completely unbiased, uninternet drama influenced eyes. We've now reached season 3 and, after getting through a chunk of it, I asked her,

"so what do you think of Mike and El?"

and she expressed to me that they seem to be, quote:

"not very good together."

She said El's character doesn't suit the way she's acting now (in the first few episodes, concerning Mike), that Mike is more likeable and interesting when he's away from her. She doesn't like the way they ditched the party, and when it comes to their 'making out' the scenes are seen by her from Hopper's perspective (in other words, distasteful). She claimed that they'd be much better characters as friends.

And ya know what, she's right. And I mean like - duh, that's what we've been saying all this time, I'm not stating anything new here. But guys, wouldn't it be strange if the central couple of the show, pivotal that it is liked by audiences and is rooted for by them as they are THE pair, would be so dislikable like this? So uninteresting, so cliche.

I mean, okay, let's do a little mental experiment I like to do to test if I'm not just acting delulu. Let's play a game. In this game, milkvan ARE meant to be endgame. They are in love, they were all along, and they're here to draw in viewers and appease all El stans. Now, seasons 1 and 2 their relationship is honestly fine. Surface level, yeah, people will watch and appreciate them. They perfectly blend in with all the other neat pairings of the seasons, and have their own unique character traits to stand out as a main couple.

Just pretending our mate Will doesn't exist, we now get into season 3. Now, writers have nothing to lose here. If you've finished season 2, you probably like milkvan already. The issue is that they're already together now, so what's the conflict going to be? The arc? And every central couple needs that conflict to stay juicy.

Just take a look:

Jancy: quarrels, struggle to understand one another

Jopper: not yet together, one sided? will they won't they

Lumax: ...

Lumax? Lumax. Huh, guess they were simply together. Some loveable bickering, maintained a friendly dynamic while clearly in closer proximity. Well then, writers can do the same for milkvan right? Well, yes easily. But one might argue that since they are supposed to be THE pairing they need more going on between them than that. So what'll it be? Well, it seems that writers thought,

"hey, why not break them up?"

ok so.. that's a bit risky. I mean you want people to like this ship, if you break them up then that threats: 1. there being a disliking to one or both characters, 2. coming off generic if done incorrectly, 3. the break up might make no sense considering how in love they came off as just a season ago. But hey.. it could work, if done right. Some kind of misunderstanding, similar to Jancy. Maybe an argument leading to a sudden parting. I mean, yeah, Yeah! I can see that. Perhaps Mike is being too overprotective whilst El's trying to sacrifice herself for something, so she NEEDS to separate herself from him attempting to hurt him less. Or, I dunno, something akin. What's crucial is that us, AS THE AUDIENCE, still know them to be deeply in love. I mean, we have to still want them to be together. And we've seen couple trouble before. Just take a look at Lumax season 4 - did you or did you not want the best for both of them as a pair? You most likely did. See, it's doable. So did people like milkvan season 3 the same way, even after a separation plot? No.

Okay well, there are obviously those who'll always love milkvan no matter but, see, season 3 tainted it. "We need to write them like this cause it's more realistic to teenager behavior" my ars. You can make it messy without making it icky. Not only did it sour their unique dynamic, it flabbergastingly stomped on Mike as a character.

Honestly, I feel Mike has always been a mild struggle to write. Season 1 his motivations were 'find Will' (who still doesn't exist in our mind game yet shh) and 'protect El'. This worked well for him. Afterwards though, El and Will became more separate plots to him. But as a main character it remained integral that he be closely linked to them somehow. This sets him apart from Lucas and Dustin, who can easily be given any arc any season as their plots have the flexibility of a side quest nature. Since what Mike does is meant to matter more - with there probably being a better way of phrasing that but you know what I mean - it's harder knowing what he'll do when El and Will (who we'll GET to sh.) are their own separate people. And Mike is just a boy, he doesn't have super powers and he isn't a cop, which leaves there even less for him to do which is of significance. Season 2 writers decided upon having him support Will's arc, making himself of enough relevance by being able to take credit for some Will development in the story, and the plots that surrounded that, and then Mike was thrown a little bone by being the one to come up with the idea of burning those vines in the finale.

Truthfully, you don't really remember Mike's deeds much when reminiscing the series. It isn't like Dustin who's bond with Dart sticks to everyone, or Nancy and Jonathan responsible for kicking out Hawkins Lab. This is due to them, again, being able to traverse all sorts of adventures without limits. But my guy Mike can't do dat. Sadly, this kind of leads to him coming of as a little.. well... insignificant. And I know I know, the Mike truthers are gonna come at my throat. And hey! I love him too. I only want the best for my boy.

This makes season 3 a unique case cause it seems that, for the plot they decided they wanted, writers actually had to almost entirely change his character. I mean mate s2 Mike and s3 Mike are two different peoples, don't even. And I don't believe that the Duffers had their story and character turnouts completely drawn out from the very start at all. If I was to guess, I'd assume they have vague ideas of little plots they plan to include in future, but there is definitely a lot that has come unpredicted or changed throughout st's runtime. And one of those phenomenons are Michael Wheeler. So they decided to make this guy a di-

So they decided to make him more douchy, more movie typical teenage guy. It's not as if he wholly sucked, he didn't, but he didn't really do much. Whined about his girlfriend, separated the party. I mean what even was his arc? (UnLESS–)

You see, if milkvan is written to be loved, then season 3 was strike one. All of its charm was stripped away. It seems they had some cute scenes after their reconciliation, but it's not enough. It's just sort of

"oh, ok, so they're happy with eachother now. yayy."

and Stranger Things should want to be anything but boring. Sure they often enjoy indulging in tropes, but they always do something different with them. Something standoutish. And from this point on milkvan just got dull. Either writers ran out of ideas or lost interest, honestly (still with our mind game of telling ourselves they're meant to be).

But it's okay. Look, so season 3 was a bit rocky, maybe lost a couple of fans for the guys, but it is salvageable. Easily, easily. Looks like we want a plot of Mike struggling to tell El he loves her. Great! Much to work with.

So let's get into it. Season 4! Choices were... made. And, okay, now we can't go any further without bringing in our boy Will.

Mike is intrinsically tied to Will and El and has been from the start. Maybe Will was more of an accident. Maybe s1 Will was just a plot device for Mike, then s2 Will was a plot device again and Mike needed to be there as the main boy character. Come season 3 and it seems their relationship still matters. Will was sidelined - hard - so most of Mike's moments revolved around El. But as his bond with Mike is the only that's been properly built up, that's the only friend we'll get him interacting with in a way that matters. So the Mike and Will tie continues!

But that does not have to be the case for season 4. Now the writers have a chance.

They made Will gay.

Ok so.. ok so yeah that's fine. Yeah! I mean they didn't have to do that, might put them in hot water with the bylers since milkvan is their golden beauty but.. you know what no no that's okay. He's been hinted at being queer since episode 1, why not make it canon! Cool that works. Explore that, especially since we now have Vecna who can easily target Will for this. Give him a boyfriend! Or a guy crush. He's at a new school now? That's cool. Maybe we can explore some new male character Will's taken interest in. Hey maybe he meets someone who interests him which rises to surface his whole sexuality plot and-

he's in love with Mike.

Ok. No. No. What are you doing? What do you mean?? You didn't have to do that. Strike- strike EFING TWO mates! Strike. 👏 efing. 👏 2!

This was part 1. I am tired and gots to get my ars in bed. But ohohoh, do not worry. I am just getting started.

#anti milkvan #anti mileven #byler #byeler #stranger things #mike wheeler #will byers #byler is real #byler is endgame #byler analysis #byler nation #byler proof #byler is canon #byler endgame #byler tumblr #stranger things 4

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girlreblogger · 2 months

Text

the annoyance with blk y/n and the stories she’s in is hilarious. her characteristics might be the problem one day or her side characters the next. it legit feels like we may never get to a balanced solution on what to do with our own representation since the wrong ppl always talk about it and create it. we have mean and shallow ppl who take over the conversation, ppl who really self hate but try and cover it up with “i just don’t want her to be a stereotype” and then the ones who probably love and support tyler perry movies.

the bottom line is the ppl who do write those niggafying, toxic (it’s a buzzword but that’s what they are) or smutty fics (not talking abt the actual good ones with a blk reader though 🧎🏽‍♀️) can do wtv they want and owe you nothing. that’s why they get so frustrated. i don’t think all the times those should be crucified for what they write when other groups of ppl (or our own) write all kinds of other crazy shit.

and.. i know a lot of ppl who don’t want to say it but y’all keep bringing up the smut and niggafying as the main problem, but i think it’s some of the ppl writing it and their underlings. it’s just no one wants to say anything.

an excerpt from a draft of mine

“a lot of ppl on here be weirdos or mean asl. so when someone block you don’t be like “oh what i did” “they that mad cause of my (internet—fictional—digital on screen) presence”

like nobody got time to go to your acc and say “i don’t like you” who cares. oddly some miserable ppl do actually but still. the lack of awareness is ridiculous. that’s why ppl don’t f with y’all.”

i was talking abt all of tumblr and every other app but it applies here.

from what i see on here, some are just straight up weird, cliquey, and chiesty (if that’s how you spell it) and that’s why ppl be so mad abt those types of books 💀. we also have to acknowledge the amount of overwhelming & honestly damaging blk yn fics (not to be confused with ppls screwed ideas of stereotypical) there are. i understand why ppl write them for personal reasons but when it comes to our own reflections of ourselves as blk women it’s almost hurtful to read some of the things people put “her” through. i mean even her with a white man that use aave and has cornrows is hurtful.. 😔 (i’m trolling now 💀) naw but fr. i personally don’t like reading blk women just being written for smut or going through crazy situations or kinda like.. i don’t wanna say unfulfilling but like.. idk i can’t think of the word. (edit: ppl write blk yn to be in unfulfilling situations) but girl i can watch a tyler perry movie for all that.

again. ppl write these stories for there own personal reasons, relate to them and enjoy them for those reasons as well. that’s why depending! on what it is i don’t think blk writers should be bombarded with hate like that. also ion think smut should be banned like y’all go to far can we just slow down on it … there are some nice ones out there i promise 🧎🏽‍♀️

but in all seriousness there are many other reasons why i feel toxic and smutty fics are popular for blk yn but i don’t think anyone cares to hear that and the conversion will prolly go back to nigga eren somehow which is crazy cause y’all be arguing over a fictional white man.

oh! 😒 i almost forgot 😒 the ppl who are against “ghetto” y/n to try and advocate for more fluffy or like.. normal (healing) stories and from what i see the ppl who are the most up in arms about it in my personal opinion seem to dislike certain parts of blkness that i appreciate personally and so i just straight up disregard their opinions. y/n doesn’t have to “act” (😒) blk but i see ppl get mad about her protecting her hair….. with a bonnet….

sigh, anyway but yeah we need more soft and sweet fics or just like calming ones? but someone gon have to write it! i don’t like this app or my writing all too much so i gave up a while ago.

just like many other blk writers….

gaspp! we should also do like a fluff challenge or sumn where writers do like fluff … march? girl idk so maybe that will trend and all the ppl who spend time arguing and going back and forth with ppl who write stories they don’t like can like idk look for other writers who write soft, normal, fun stories and reblog them or make a list of them. or maybe like possibly write their own stories too????

everyone says the smut fics gets the most likes and they do. that’s why you keep seeing them. so maybe support or refreakingblog the fics that are comforting to you so others can be as well.

i actually made this page to repost softer fics because i was tired of blocking certain tags so i can avoid heavy smut and subtly abuse fics. also pls leave the ppl who niggafy anime characters alone they will not be stopped. i mean we still have ppl who have been calling chris evans jamal since 2020.. calling him that to this date. married and all.

sigh… 2 more days until blk history month ends. maybe next year we can find a balance between “dramatic” and smutty fics and soft and slice of life ones for blk y/n next year. remember this is tumblr too and the ppl writing aren’t even getting paid for this but it’s for the ppl yk.

ppl who are respectful and reblog tho.

muah

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littlemisssatanist · 1 month

Text

my acotar unpopular opinions

taking this time to come out as an acotar reader. yes i've read all the books and i've spent way too much time thinking about it. i enjoy the books in the sense that i enjoy hating on many of the characters and loving a few of the others.

be forewarned inner circle fans. you will not like this.

rhysand is not a 'morally grey' character. he's a rapist and a groomer. he sexually assaulted feyre utm, he groomed her (reminder that she was 19 in acotar), and he withheld important medical information from her. 'you'll always have a choice' my ass.

nesta telling feyre about her pregnancy was not a bad thing. why do people act like it is? 'oh she did it to hurt feyre' hurt her by doing what? revealing the lies that her beloved husband had woven? revealing the fact that she'd die giving birth? the fact that rhysand told literally everybody but feyre?

mor is not the champion for women everyone thinks she is. this i will give to sjm it is truly impressive to make a character like women and still be a pick me. i'm not even going to go into her whole weird ass relationship with her dad (i still don't understand why she wouldn't just kill him. 'oh rhys needed the army' rhys is supposed to be the most powerful high lord ever. either admit he's a fucking loser or give me an actual good reason for this) or the fact she's seemingly incapable of doing anything to help the women in the court of nightmares, but everytime she was mentioned, i had to let out a heavy sigh and rub my temples.

on a similar topic. i liked eris. like a lot. out of all the acotar characters sjm has written, eris is by far my favorite.

the inner circle needs to sit the fuck down. they are the most hypocritical bitches i've ever met. they like to think themselves high and mighty. reading them make fun of lucien's band of exiles while their name is literally 'court of dreamers' was the most infuriating thing ever. and then they have the gall to be insulted when called out. don't dish what you can't take.

out of all the inner circle, the only one i don't hate is azriel. this is simply because he is the only one who hasn't opened his big fat mouth and done something bad (except if you maybe count his whole thing with elain). cassian is on my hit list. it's on sight with cassian.

nessian is sjm's worst ship and i will stand by that. lucien/nesta could have been so much. 'nesta would have ripped lucien apart' and cassian was your first choice? not even azriel was considered? like be so for real right now. sjm didn't see the potential of lucien/nesta and i will forever mourn that.

sjm is a terrible writer. i'm not saying this to be mean but she seriously just sucks at it. that being said i admire her ability to still make millions of dollars off her shitty writing. as a woman, i am rooting for her. as a reader, every day i wake up a shoot a prayer to the heavens begging the gods to not let sjm write any more books from the inner circle's pov.

lucien/elain is better than azriel/elain. argue with the wall.

eris/azriel is better than azriel/elain. you can kiss my ass.

NESTA/ERIS IS BETTER THAN RHYSAND/FEYRE. i know this because i have been enlightened.

feyre is a victim to rhysand. that being said, she is also a major bitch. both can be true because these things are not mutually exclusive. i wish she could make friends outside of the ic like nesta did, but i know that's unlikely.

feyre's pregnancy storyline was completely useless and went against her whole character.

acomaf retconned everything about tamlin and feyre's relationship in order to make more money. idc.

tamlin gets a ridiculous amount of hate. rhysand is hypocritical. so tamlin locking feyre in a house because she wants to ride out with him into potential danger is terrible and abusive, but rhysand locking nesta in the house of wind for... *checks notes*... having sex and spending money on alcohol is helping her? what?

#anti rhysand #anti sjm #anti inner circle #anti acotar #rhysand critical #inner circle critical #acotar #acotar critical #pro nesta #anti nessian #pro eris vanserra #anti mor #this might be a controversial one

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