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lxkeee · 3 months

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MY LOVE, IS MINE ALL MINE

—PART FIVE

pairing: lucifer morningstar x fallen angel! fem! reader

fandom: hazbin hotel

genre: fluff

notes: gotta keep writing to feed the simps.

PART ONE | PART FOUR | PART SIX

Lucifer sat in his office chair, pen on one hand as he finally did the paperwork that he was procrastinating on for... A few months now, but anyways.

He was deep in thought, the fountain pen fluidly moving along with his hand as he signed the documents. Mind wandering, dissociating even.

He has a lot to think about considering that the next extermination is coming in a few days.

His eyes landed on his right hand, ring finger bare of any rings. He smiled proudly to himself, it took some work to actually remove his wedding ring and he finally did, his divorce doesn't hurt as much as it used to be. He has a lot to work on, his heart, his mind, and his actions.

He's happy that he stopped staying stuck in the past and now, he's ready to move forward. He has let go of Lilith, as the woman wanted. But he'll never forget [y/n], despite the distance and lack of communication, he still thinks of her as his best friend and he's glad she never stopped thinking of him too.

Lucifer sighs, a small smile on his face. Smiling at the thought of her. His hand once again moved gracefully along the paper, ink rolling off the tip of the pen as he signed his signature.

He misses [y/n], he longs to hug her so much.

Knock, knock.

He flinches at the sound of the front door being knocked, the sounds echoing off the castle walls. He lives alone after all, so the palace is deathly silent.

Lucifer groans, rolling his eyes.

It's probably another solicitor or another sinner wanting to have an audience with him.

Choosing to ignore it and continue with his work.

Knock, knock, knock.

There it is again, the annoying sound of someone knocking on his front door.

He exhaled, continuing his work.

They'll go away if I ignore them, just like always.

He mutters to himself, huffing in annoyance as he works.

[y/n] huffs to herself, crossing her arms around her chest. She's been knocking for a few minutes now and nobody answered.

I wonder if he's home?

She thought, standing outside the door. Hand running over the skirt of her light blue dress.

She waits for a few minutes, taking a deep breath. Trying to calm down her beating heart. Mentally practicing what she wants to say to him when she sees him.

Bringing her hand back up, forming into a tight knuckle. She knocked once more.

Knock, knock, knock.

It took so much patience for him not to break the fountain pen on his hand. Lucifer gently brought down the pen on to his table. Bringing both his hands towards his mouth and nose as he exhaled exasperatedly. Closing his eyes, eye twitching a little.

I stand corrected, this sinner is persistent.

Taking a deep breath, he finally stood up from his chair, grumbling as he left his office. Going down the stairs.

Finally arriving at the front door of his, fixing his clothes to look presentable to whoever is at the other side. Raising his guard up as he doesn't trust other sinners.

Finally opening the door, eyes closed in annoyance. “Yeah, yeah. Who's there...” his voice died down when he opened his eyes again to see a familiar angel standing on his doorway, [y/n] looking at him awkwardly, waving her hand at him shyly.

Did he go insane without realizing?

[y/n] is standing on his doorway wearing a cute light blue short dress that reaches beneath her knees, halo no longer on her head but he can tell she used it as an accessory based on the golden bracelet on her wrist. She looked as beautiful as the day he last saw her. Though, he had a tint of worry as he noticed the bandages on her arms and knees. What happened to her?

Is this a hallucination?

“[y/n]...?” he asked hesitantly, afraid that she'll disappear and afraid she's just a fragment of his imagination.

[y/n] smiled, heart beating loudly against her chest. Lucifer stood in front of her. The white suit with red accents really fits him, he's just as beautiful as she last saw him, more even.

He is really here.../She is really here...

Finally deciding to break the silence between them, [y/n] smiled at him, “It has been awhile, Lucifer.”

Her voice was enough to snap him from his thoughts and without thinking, he leaped into her arms and hugged her. Tears finally streaming down his pale cheeks. The action causing both of them to fall into the floor.

The warmth of his embrace around her was also enough for [y/n] to silently cry. She misses him so much, so many years spent without him made her incredibly so lonely.

Lucifer grips into her waist, burying his face at the crook of her neck as he sobbed.

Lucifer wonders if this was a dream at first but he was able to inhale the familiar perfume she always wore and it was enough to make him cry even more.

It felt like the universe finally listened to his pleas. He was just thinking that he misses her so much a few minutes ago and then suddenly she's in his door step.

“[y/n].... You're really here... Wait...” his eyes widened as he finally removed himself from her warm embrace, holding her arms gently.

“Why are you here...?” he asked softly, voice hoarse from crying. [Y/n] wiped her eyes with her hand but he stopped her as Lucifer summoned a clean handkerchief and gently wiped the tears off her cheeks.

[y/n] smiled weakly, “I fell.” she says with a small giggle. Lucifer deadpans, eyes blinking not simultaneously. He stood up and offered a hand to her to help her stand in which she gladly accepted.

“What do you mean you fell? When?” he asked worriedly, [y/n] smiled softly as she placed a hand over his cheek. Thumb running over the red circle on his cheek adoringly.

“I have a lot to tell you but I fell... A few days ago... Charlie found me and she treated me during it all.” [y/n] explained softly, his eyes widening. Why didn't Charlie tell him?

[y/n] can practically hear the question based on his facial expression, she smiles. “Don't get mad at Charlie, I asked her not to tell you...” she says, avoiding eye contact.

He frowns, leaning towards her so he cups her cheeks, his other hand on her chin. He tilts her head so she's finally looking at him.

“Why...? I... I could've helped you...” he asked, voice trembling. Guilty for not being there for her in her most time of need. [Y/n] gently removed his hands from her face, squeezing it assuringly.

“Because I don't want our reunion to be a sad one, I can't bear to see you so sad and I don't want you to see how bad my situation was...” she explained softly, her thumb rubbing circles in his hand. He can only imagine what happened to her based on her injuries. She's right, he might not function properly if he saw her so injured.

Lucifer sighs, shoulders dropping as he understands her explanation. But still, he wished he could've helped her more.

“But hey, I'm here now and there's a lot that we needed to catch up on. Don't you think?” [y/n] says with a giggle, a small smile on her face. Lucifer could feel his cheeks burning up as he looked at her beautiful smiling face.

Lucifer closes his eyes as a grin finally finds its way to his handsome face, “You're right, you got a lot of explanation to do.” he says, offering his hand to her in which she accepted. He pulls her inside the palace, finally closing the door behind them.

Currently, the two are in his room just catching up with one another. Lucifer's hands shined a golden glow over her arms, his angelic powers helping her heal. He listened intently as [y/n] explained what happened to her.

His heart thumped loudly against his chest as he listened how she defended hell and how she finally got under Sera's skin that led to her fall from grace.

“You really did that...?” he asked softly, his hand working gently with her arm as he unwrapped the bandages around her arm. Her arm finally healed after helping her. [Y/n] smiled softly and nodded, “I made a promise to help Charlie and Sera hid the yearly cleansing from the other angels. It was revealed during Charlie's meeting and I was mad.” [y/n] explained to him, his gentle eyes looking up at her as he healed her arm. “I said some things to her and got her mad and I was placed in a trial in which I ended up guilty.”

Lucifer frowns, softly placing down her hand onto her lap. “I wished I was there to help you.” he says softly to her and [y/n] smiled and patted his head.

“It's alright, what's done is done. What matters the most is that I'm here now...” she says, bringing her hand up to cup his cheeks.

“Yeah... But, I hope you know that I appreciate what you did for hell...” he says, nuzzling his face against the palm of her hand. Eyes half-lidded as he looked at her.

“I know and I'll do it again. I believe that the sinners deserve a second chance.” she says, her eyes landing on the many piles of rubber ducks in his room.

“On the sidenote, I see you haven't gotten over your love for ducks.” [y/n] giggles, his cheeks exploding into a bright shade of red as he felt a little embarrassed.

“I can't help it. They're just so cute.” he says with a small pout making [y/n] laugh softly.

“Don't be embarrassed about it, I'm just glad you haven't changed much.” she says smiling at him.

His eyes widened slightly and then he smiled, “I am glad that you haven't changed too.”

[y/n] smiles, turning her head to look around his room. Seeing the portraits of his family on the wall, they looked so happy. She's a little jealous.

“You and Lilith huh?” she teases him slightly, Lucifer flinches slightly and avoids her gaze. “Well... Used to, we've divorced each other seven years ago.” he says, finally looking at her.

[y/n]'s eyes widened, a frown on her face. She felt guilty bringing the topic up. “Oh... I didn't know, I'm sorry.” she says softly, her voice held a tone of regret. Lucifer smiled and shook his head, “Don't be, it was for the best.” he explained, “We just stopped loving each other, that's all.”

“How about we change the topic?” he suggested with a smile and [y/n] nodded, “Since you're here now... Do you plan to stay at the hotel or here with me?” he asked softly to her.

[y/n] blushes softly, the idea of being alone with Lucifer in a large palace seems so.... Intimate. Lucifer's cheeks also burned slightly as he realized what he just asked.

“Staying here with you? Won't I disturb you from your work?” she asked hesitantly, Lucifer shakes his head no.

“No, no, no... You would never be a disturbance to me [n/n]... I would be glad if you stayed here...” he spoke so softly, eyes pleading for her to accept.

[y/n] smiles, she can practically read him like a book. Despite being years apart, their connection never faded.

“Alright, since you looked like you're begging me to stay.” she giggled softly, looking at him with so much fondness.

Lucifer can only stare at her face, she's looking at him like he's the most beautiful being in the universe.

Don't look at me like that, I don't want to fall too fast.

Lucifer blushes slightly, clearing his throat. “I just miss you, that's all.” he says, avoiding her gaze making her chuckle, “I've missed you too.” she says softly.

“I am really happy to see you again, it's been so long.” he whispers, wrapping his arms around her. “I am so happy to be back in your arms...” she murmurs back to him. Lacing her hand with his with him squeezing her hand gently in return.

They have a lot of catching up to do, a lot of feelings to uncover.

END NOTES: the handholding before marriage finally happened lmfaoo �� also imma try not to make their relationship fast paced okay, awkward friends to lovers idk. This chapter feels shorter than usual, meh.

TAGLIST I:

@selvyyr @leo4242564 @blushhpeachh @lunanight1021 @dvc4 @nehy019 @lu-ferri12 @lilteamushroom @froggybich @eddiemunson4ever @who-let-me-write-this @gurutan27 @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @hcneyiced @valerie-36 @jovialcat123 @b0nn1e @raeinn @wally-darling-hyperfixation @faefanatic @trashbin-nie @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @luleck @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @hxzbinwrites @snoozewritezz @juskonutoh @mayhimouto513 @hcneyiced @koirb @viylikescats @ren-ren23 @kouyoumarryme @dou-dou @thatsquitepoggers

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel x reader #lxkeee answers #lucifer morningstar #lxkeee updates #“MLIMAM” — LUCIFER X READER

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riality-check · 8 months

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DILF!Steve concert saga, featuring Eddie POV for this part! part 1, part 2

"I have to open it."

"Nope."

"Gareth. I need to open it."

"The vault is sacred," Archie says.

At the same time, Jeff chimes in, "The vault was your idea, Eddie."

Eddie thunks his head against the wall. "I know. But I need-"

"They're on the last song," Archie says, putting a hand on Eddie's shoulder. It's probably meant to be comforting, but it feels patronizing as shit.

Eddie is a good friend, though. He doesn't shrug him off.

"Once they're through, I'll unlock it," Jeff says, dangling the key slung around his neck.

"But you could do it now," Eddie protests.

Gareth sits protectively on top of the black lock box. "Absolutely not."

Eddie sighs and waits for the guitar solo onstage to end, nodding his head along to the beat.

It's what he usually does when they're backstage, but this time, it brings a smile to his face. Miss Anna was a natural yesterday for her first time headbanging, and her dad is the reason Eddie wants to break the sacred vault tradition.

He wants, no, needs to know if he got the note. If he decided to write something. If he wants to go a little further than PG flirting.

Eddie for sure wants to go further than that. God. Steve's handsome face and his big hands and his thick thighs (deliciously exposed by his shorts in the summer heat) are all wonderful incentives to skip a few steps and go straight to ramming him into a mattress.

Or, with how that shirt clung to Steve's biceps and how his shorts clung to his ass, let him ram Eddie into the mattress. He isn't picky.

(He isn't desperate, either, thank you very much, Gareth. And no, he won't admit how long it's been since he got laid.)

From the house, the audience roars, and Eddie jumps off the arm of the couch he was laying on.

Gareth sighs and gets off the lock box.

"Jeff, open it," Eddie says, staring at the vault and subconsciously making grabby hands toward it.

"Is that how we ask?"

"I could always yank the key off you."

Archie sighs and, ever the peacemaker, takes the key from Jeff and unlocks the vault. The second it's open, Eddie snatches his phone and turns it on.

Please please please let the DILF text back, he thinks to himself as he waits for this stupid metal brick to turn on and give him a resolution to this whole ridiculous situation.

Because, first, Eddie doesn't really jive with kids. Sure, they flock to him in the same way they flock to every other vaguely cool-looking person, but aside from asking if he has to draw his tattoos on every day or if his mommy is okay with him having his hair that long, they generally leave him alone.

And that's okay. Eddie easily made his peace with not having kids about ten years ago. Between his strong preference for men and the way that significantly decreases those odds and the choice to not pass on his truly abysmal family history of mental illness and addiction, it seemed obvious and a lot more selfless.

But Anna was cool as hell. Smart as hell, too, in a way that made Eddie feel like he was looking back at a time before school punished him for being bright and verbose and energetic.

Anna didn't make him want kids. Again, the whole family history thing is a real vibe killer. But she did give him enough fuel, for just an instant, to think that dating someone with a kid might not be a deal breaker anymore.

Or maybe Steve was just that hot.

He whined a lot yesterday, in the hotel, about how hot Steve was.

His phone turns on, and, front and center, is a text from an unknown number:

I guess I don’t have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we’re even on that front, I’m a teacher, and Anna’s full time job is preschool.

Eddie grins so hard he feels like his face will split in two.

"Is it him?" Jeff asks, trying to look over Eddie's shoulder.

"Of course it is," Gareth scoffs. "Look at his face."

"What did he say?" Archie asks.

Eddie takes the easier way out and lets him have the phone.

Gareth and Jeff crowd over Archie's shoulders, and Eddie watches their faces change as they read the message.

"Oh, he's bitchy," Gareth says.

"That means he's perfect," Jeff says, with a pointed look at Eddie.

Eddie shoots Archie a clear "back me up" look and gets a shrug in return because all his friends are assholes who know his type way too fucking well.

"What do I say?" he asks.

Archie tosses him the phone. "I don't know. Flirt back."

"I don't know how!"

"You ground against a guitar-"

"And kissed me onstage," Jeff continues. "But you don't know how to flirt?"

Eddie puts his head in his hands. "I didn't have enough sex in high school to know how to do this!"

"That's not an excuse when none of us did!" Gareth says.

Jeff barks out a laugh.

"Just ask if he's free tomorrow," Archie says, like the rational, wonderful friend he is. "This was the last stop of tour. It's not like you have to get anywhere else at a specific time."

"Okay. Okay, yeah, I can do that," Eddie says, hyping himself up. Before he can second guess himself, he writes back.

Since it's summer, I'm assuming you both have off. Can you fit it in your busy schedule to have dinner with a humble musician tomorrow night?

"Oh, shit, did you send it?" Gareth asks, snatching his phone.

"Wait," Archie says, like the rational, horrible friend he is. "Do we know if he's single?"

"Oh, shit," Jeff whispers.

Eddie takes his phone back and refuses to look at it. He wants to shut it down. He wants to drop it. He wants to drive to nearest river and throw it there.

"Am I a homewrecker?" he asks absently.

"Only if you succeed," Jeff says.

"He might have a wife," Archie muses. "He might be straight."

"Okay, dude, enough," Gareth says. "This was supposed to be exciting! Eddie was supposed to get ass!"

"He might be ace."

"Archie, shut the fuck up."

He holds his hands up in surrender, and Jeff pats his shoulder, a little comfortingly, a lot condescendingly.

Eddie sits down on the couch. Puts his head in his hands. Breathes.

He's flirting with a married man. He's absolutely flirting with a married man. This is a new low. This is worse than the time he licked the floor of a restaurant, drunk, for five bucks. This is worse than when he greened out in the parking lot of a Chuck E. Cheese. This is worse than when he accidentally told the gas station cashier that he loved them and immediately walked into the glass door behind him.

This is. So bad.

And then his phone rings, so it'll get worse. It has to. That's how these things go.

Eddie has always been self-destructive, so, of course, he looks at the screen.

I can't swing dinner, but how's lunch? Fair warning: it might be a playground picnic if my babysitter bails.

"Holy shit, I'm not a homewrecker," Eddie says.

"I didn't think you had it in you," Jeff says.

"He's single!" Gareth cheers.

"Can I talk now?" Archie teases.

"I'm not a homewrecker!" Eddie says, and he launches off the couch to hug the nearest person, who happens to be Jeff.

They have to get out of the venue. He has to figure out the logistics of the date and how to be normal by the time he gets there and what to wear and everything else.

But, right now, Eddie is over the fucking moon that Steve is even giving him a shot. And he hopes, giddy as all hell and hanging off of Jeff's shoulders, that Steve feels even a little bit like this.

He writes back, once he's calmed down:

Lunch might just become my new favorite meal.

#ria writes #dilf and concert #d&c au #steddie #steddie ficlet #st #st ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #corroded coffin #rockstar eddie munson #dilf steve harrington

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little-hermit-crab56 · 6 months

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I've been writing for a while so I thought I'd share some writing tips I've learned along the way.

1. Never sacrifice the flow for a quirky line.

That bit of dialogue or flowery paragraph you really like but it kinda disrupts the flow? Scrap it. I know it hurts, but you need to. If you really want to keep it, find somewhere else to put it where it actually fits in.

2. Dialogue is a dance.

Dialogue should go at the pace of an actual conversation, back and forth with little breaks and pauses. Add as little dialogue tags as possible while still making it clear who is speaking. You can also describe what is happening during a pause in the conversation rather than saying they paused, unless the pause is important.

3. Show don't tell is a guideline, not a rule.

Show don't tell is a very useful guideline, but if you're ALWAYS showing it can get exhausting to read. Skip the boring bits and just tell us what happened, then we can get to the good stuff.

4. If it's boring to write, it's probably boring to read.

If you can cut out a whole scene with little consequence to the story, you probably should. As I said before, you don't always have to show us, you can always tell us.

5. Everything needs to have a purpose.

I know there are probably lots of interesting or cute scenes where your characters are just fucking around, but if it doesn't develop character, relations, conflict, or plot, why should we care? Definitely still write them if they make you happy, but if you're gonna add it to your final draft, make sure it matters.

6. You don't need to explain everything all at once.

I know it feels tempting to put all the lore, and all the character's intentions, and reasonings into the first few chapters, but please refrain, you can reserve that for your character and worldbuilding sheets. Instead, take the time to let us get to know the characters, and the world, in the same way we'd get to know a real person. Make your exposition as seamless and natural as possible. It will take practice to know when to reveal information and when to let us wonder, but you'll get there.

7. Write in a way that comes naturally.

I know you probably have an author you wanna write just like, but that is unlikely to happen. Embrace your natural writing style and perfect it, rather than trying to be something you're not. Writing is an art, you need to find your own style and polish it as best you can.

8. Try to make us feel connected by cutting out certain words like "felt".

"Chad felt like a glass of water." Can be replaced with, "Chad was thirsty, so he reached for a glass of water." Both sentences tell us Chad wants a glass of water, but one makes us feel more connected to Chad than the other. Though both sentences have their time and place, you want to make your audience feel as close to their protagonist as possible. Make them feel like they're there, rather than just an onlooker.

9. We don't need to know every physical detail of your character.

I know you probably spent ages creating the perfect characters and you want to give us the perfect image of what they look like, but it can get monotonous and boring, why do we care that your character has brown eyes unless the colour has some sort of significance? Try to list off only the most notable features of your character and put focus only on the relevant details. Sometimes you can even not describe them at all and throw in little bits of information about their appearance for the audience to put together. We read to imagine, not to have a perfect image painted for us when we could be getting to the plot.

10. You're allowed to be vague.

Allow your audience to assume things, with some things you can just be lazy and let your audience's imagination do the work for you. Of course, don't do this with important things, but you can save so much time you might've spent researching an irrelevant topic when you can just be vague about it. You don't have to know everything you're writing about, so long as you know the bits that matter.

11. Writing is a skill that takes practice.

Don't be so hard on yourself if your writing is a bit cringe, we've all been there. The important part is that you research how to get better and keep writing those super cringe chapters. One day you'll reread something from a while ago and realize you're actually not as bad as you thought.

12. Leave your work to rest.

I know you wanna start editing right away, but once you've finished, leave it for at least a month. The longer you leave it the better, but that depends on your attention span. A month to six months is good if you're really impatient but want a good result. If you keep writing in that time your skills will continue to improve, then you'll be editing that draft with fresh eyes and fresh skills.

And if you're a fanfic author, I usually leave my chapters for a week before editing and posting.

Hope this helps anyone struggling, I thought this might be especially relevant now with nanowrimo.

I recently realized how much knowledge I've been accumulating over the years, I definitely have more but this is all I can think of for now.

I'm no writing guru, but if anyone has anything they're struggling with, I can do my best to help you out, so dont hesitate to ask questions.

#writing tips #nanowrimo #story writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writerscommunity #writing #writer

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elatedfool · 2 months

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the first ray of light

reverse comfort, may contain small spoilers for aventurine's backstory, may be ooc, reader and aven are in a relationship, mention of childhood trauma, abuse, slavery, aven with abandonment issues, hurt no comfort(?)

aventurine who flinches the first time you try to touch him after a bad day that left him particularly upset.

aventurine who's still on guard whenever he's vulnerable, like right now—the stratagem is quieter than usual, no longer having that smug smile on his face, the lack of life in his eyes even more noticeable when his eyes are wide—surprised at his own reaction.

aventurine who apologizes—even if he doesn't need to—then tries to reach for you, saying that he just had a 'long and exhausting day at work' and shake his head when you ask him what's wrong—the senior manager is still determined to look unbothered in front of you.

aventurine who's had tons of bad, horrible experience during his childhood, resulting in his inability to trust anyone enough, not even to show any signs of exhaustion, always putting up a mask, appearing as a mysterious and mischievous guy, keeping everyone at arm's length.

aventurine who's secretly afraid of being left alone again, of losing his purpose and being deemed as useless. the moment he flinches from you, memories of the past come back to flood his mind with doubts and reminders—reminding him of the chains binding his wrists and neck together, the cells that caged him and his kins, and the shouts of the audience fighting over his younger self, over who gets to bring the poor boy home—treating him like a rare animal, a pet to command.

aventurine who unconsciously begins to tear up, his eyes still wide and unmoving as he stares into space, your words of concern flying over his head, until you cup his face and lean closer to snap him out of his thoughts.

"you're not just 'tired', i can see that something's bothering you. won't you tell me?" oh, those eyes of yours, full of worry and love, and your gentle fingers brushing away his tears. aventurine feels so weak, but he's also scared to open up, yet he also knows you well enough to know that you're a honest person, that your concern is genuine.

aventurine who's already used to fake empathy that it feels like a dream to feel your warm hands on his face—no, not even the thought of having such a wonderful person as his partner has ever crossed the gambler's mind, not like he deserves them, right?

aventurine who's caught off guard when you pulled him into a tight hug, his arms suspended in the air and his brain that just stops working the moment your warmth spreads through his body, quickly enveloping him and slowly melting the ice encasing his heart.

it's not like he's never been hugged before, but they were purely for business reasons, merely a way to greet his acquaintances. but a hug from you? it was an effective way to make him sobs harder.

aventurine who was deprived of the love he deserves, but now he has you, his darling, who has wormed your way into his perfectly-shut heart (or so he thought) and settle yourself inside it, filling the empty space with your warmth.

maybe you could be the perfect listener, the first person he opens up to. maybe you won't leave after hearing about his gruesome past. maybe the goddess finally blessed him with your presence, who came into his life at the perfect time, to give him a reason to live again.

it was like walking into the sun， being with you，it was like walking into the sun for the first time after a terribly long winter.

#quote cr to holyaches on twt #aventurine x you #aventurine x y/n #aventurine x reader #aventurine angst #hsr x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr angst

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funficwriter · 8 months

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Fontaine Characters with Violinist Reader!

A/N: This disappearing thing of mine is annoying, I'm trying to stop it. However, I finally got a bit of spare time to play Genshin and I am so, so in love with Fontaine. I think it's gonna be a wonderful arc. I haven't felt this much jubilation since Liyue or Inazuma!

Warnings; None, really.

Lyney, Lynette, Neuvillette, Navia, Furina, Wriothesley (no particular order)

Lyney

First off, this boy is no stranger to performing, an activity he loves. Naturally, he's going to be most interested in fellow performers, including you!

If you're the type to get anxious before, or even during a performance, say goodbye to that with him. He'll guide you through plenty of destressing rituals to help you relax beforehand.

(This included, but wasn't limited to; Taking deep breaths, doing tongue twisters, asking you to play meme songs on your violin, or tickling your sides because 'laughing is a great way to be loose'.)

Even during, should you freeze up and he's in the audience, he'll do a quick but loud magic trick to get everyone's eyes off you. Even one that makes him look like a fool, so long as you have time to put yourself together.

He'd LOVE to have you on stage with him! He adores your music and would ask you to sync it up with dramatic moments in his magic.

If you compose you own stuff, he's pretty much your biggest fan. The guy who never misses a concert. The loudest clapper. The biggest braggart.

"That gorgeous, graceful violinist we had the pleasure of watching? What if I told you that they're coupled up with an equally electric performer? That is, me~."

Lynette

It's easy to think that her brother outdoes her in terms of being your fan, but quietness hides a lot. If you think she doesn't care as much, you're so, so wrong.

She learned several music skills just to be closer to you, including sight-reading. BTW, she's got a killer voice and loves to sing out your compositions. Sometimes it helps you come up with alternative movements within them.

She can also play piano, to a good level of accompaniment. With time, one would think she is also a music assistant; It's not uncommon for her to be on your stage.

Lynette is VERY attentive to your instrument. Does it need rosin? A new bow, perhaps a re-hair? You just say the word, and she'll happily take it to the repair workshop if you have no time.

"By the way, Y/N prefers real horse hair, the thinnest you have. Don't worry. They're talented enough to thrive on it.".

She makes it a point to let you know how much she loves what you do: "All other music in Fontaine pales in its beauty next to yours. Please, keep playing.".

Neuvillette

You play the violin? (he crosses his legs and assumes his royal position). So when are you going to get married? Will you be okay playing a few pieces, even while being the spouse? /Half-joking, tbh.

For him to say that he is the lover of a music pioneer as important as you... Will never not be a moment of joy for him.

First off, what a sugar daddy. I hope you made a list of the expensive violins you wanted but couldn't afford. Because now, it's yours, never mind the Mora. Your very case may as well be coated with gold.

He won't die on this hill, but he would love it if you could play a bit during the parties he hosts. He loves live music to begin with, but after hearing you, it feels like no other pro could hope to sound as good as you.

(And side note, he likes how mesmerized everyone is with you lol)

If you're the type to remember your patron's personal preferences, and compose/play in accordance to that, just for him? Put hearts in his eyes. He's no longer joking about the wedding thing.

While he loves showing you off, he'll never force you if you're shy/nervous. If anything, he would also feel very special if he got to heard songs not out yet, compositions just for him...

"Perhaps this is Lady Furina's way of rewarding me for my years of service. Bless our Archon for giving me such a talented, show and heart-stopping partner.".

Navia

She likes that the Spina del Rosula is represented by passionate, talented people!

If you like sweets, I say just join her team. It's guaranteed pastries after each request lol.

Her detective work is cool, but can get a bit drab after a while. She likes asking you to play some violin ambiance, partly because it makes her feel cool, and partly because your music changes the atmosphere for much better.

Navia is a woman of decorum, but she'll often have trouble staying still during your concerts. It doesn't matter if there are rules to how loud a woman can cheer, she's happy for you and will make sure you know that.

She becomes even more proactive than usual. If a concert of yours falls on the same time as her work, she'll scour the ends of Teyvat for its solution, so she can see you.

With time, she might request you to play pieces that her father loved. Once they're brought back to life, through your own strings, she can't help but be a little emotional. She must have done something wonderful to have you.

"How beautiful, how poignant as you, my dear Y/N! This calls for macaroons! Which flavor would you like today?".

Furina

"Yes, Neuvillette, I know they perform and all, but why can't I keep them to myself! They're so darn great, I want that everyday!"

Of course, she's not gonna stop you, but beware; I feel like Furina would almost turn you into her own personal violinist lol.

She'd keep requesting your presence over her other personal entertainment and somewhat bombard you with song requests. Buuut if you're looking for a varied repertoire, she's your gal!

One reason she requests so much is because she so impressed with how you not only fulfill them all, you do it so creatively and beautifully. You don't just follow the note as it is... Once you're acquainted with what she likes, you modify the tune a bit to be more her taste.

She's so cute when she claps; The way her hands go so fast and she's about to get up from the seat, the huge eye and smile... Why, you might start reconsidering her offer.

"Bravooooo, Y/N!! Bravo! That was everything, I can't go on without an encore!"

If the tune is more happy-go-lucky, she will get up and dance along. Will also do it in circles around you because she's your little orb :3

Wriothesley

"Forgive me for intruding... But I was overhearing, and your playing is terrific. Electrifying. Do you happen to perform on Saturday nights? That's when I can leave the Fortress for a bit.".

Of all your fans, Wrio is one of the quieter ones, but not so much that no one knows it. For one, he's a Duke, he's bound to enjoy good music. And heavens knows he needs some fun in his life.

Here's a fun thing (ngl this is what I was excited to write): At first, it doesn't sound like he can make it to your recital. You see him on his desk, surrounded by paper mountains that only ever seem to grow. He doesn't want to make you sad, but his remark lets you know that he's not coming: "Would it kill some of these people to tone it down for a bit so I can go see my partner perform?".

So imagine your shock when you step on stage, and see him on the first row, sitting tall and handsome, shit-eating grin on his face and waving. You really bought it for a moment.

"Hehe... Did you really think I can't even make a bit of time to see Fontaine's best violinist in action? You actually bought that?".

I HC that he has insomnia, and has tried any things to cure it, but to no avail. It's rumored in Fontaine that his is incurable, but little do they know about how he lays down next to your sitting form. Little do they know of the soft lullabies you composed just for him, or how peacefully he dreams afterwards 💜

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fontaine #lyney x reader #lynette x reader #furina x reader #neuvillette x reader #navia x reader #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact fluff

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neptuneiris · 4 months

Text

Wild Hearts | Part Two

(the end)

pairing: prince!aemond × lowborn!reader

summary: you and he can't be together, yet the two of you have fallen for each other. but the Gods are not merciful and you both have to let go. but by comparison, your charming prince doesn't think the same way you do.

word count: 10.6k

previous part • main masterlist

hello guys, here I bring the end of this story🥺

I honestly didn't think you would like the first part so much, I received so much love and support that you truly don't know how much I appreciate it❤

you made me very happy and i hope you like this second part and final as much as the first one. i have put all my effort here so i really hope to receive your opinions, i will be waiting for them🙏🏻

and now finally read and enjoy!

Memories of the night before flood your mind, awakening sensations and emotions that spread throughout your entire being.

A shy smile appears from your lips under your sheets, blood tingeing your cheeks, unable to believe that it really happened, while a warm sensation envelops you from the inside out, with the moment more vivid and fresh than ever in your mind.

And you regret absolutely nothing.

There's not even a flicker of doubt. Even if Aemond hadn't told you that he would ask your father for your hand this very morning, you wouldn't change anything that happened.

And mostly because there is no other man you would have trusted with this, something so intimate, only him.

After you stayed a few moments longer in his chamber, when the hour grew too late, he himself led you through secret passages you were completely unaware of.

Together you slipped inside the walls of the hallways and rooms of the Red Keep, leading you to your room unnoticed.

In those dark corridors, there was more kissing and caressing, acting like complete lovers having a forbidden love and you loved every moment.

You keep every instant in your memory and in the deepest corner of your heart, as a precious and unforgettable treasure and you only hope that soon he and you can create more moments like those.

But you can no longer remember those moments as your thoughts are interrupted by your maids entering your chamber to start preparing you for the day.

So you have no choice but to get out of bed.

While you take a bath, get dressed and have your hair done, in all that time uncertainty takes hold of you, wondering at every moment how Aemond's audience with your father must go, feeling the nerves of excitement and uneasiness invade you as the waiting becomes almost unbearable.

He told you he would talk to your father this morning so surely that must be taking place right now.

And you feel that at any moment your father and mother will walk through your doors very happy and pleased by the news. And although the fact that you have given yourself to Aemond without being married or even betrothed will not be a pleasing fact nor will it be well received, still an early union will settle everything.

However, your morning passes normally and nothing out of the ordinary happens, with silence maintaining itself.

You even considered that you would not have to attend the daily activities with the ladies of the Court as you would be celebrating with your parents.

But as the minutes tick by and no one walks through your doors, you reluctantly decide to attend your engagements, having no idea what must be going on.

Despite your efforts to concentrate on activities and be present with the ladies, you are distracted by involuntary memories of Aemond and all of last night, lost in your own thoughts.

The laughter and conversations around you become a distant murmur and you are barely aware of what they are talking about.

Each passing moment seems like an eternity until, finally, one of the guards walks towards the entire group of women in which you find yourself, this only getting your attention.

"Sorry to interrupt, ladies," the man says in a respectful tone and gesture.

"It's all right, Sr," Lady Lannister tells him.

"Lady Y/N," he turns to you and your heart stops, "Your father has requested your presence in his marital chamber along with your mother, my Lady."

Your heart begins to pound with a mixture of excitement and anticipation, keeping yourself from smiling big, holding back all your emotions as you rise from your seat.

"Excuse me, ladies," you quickly excuse yourself to them.

And with a smile and a twinkle of happiness in your eyes, you make your way towards your father and mother's room with the growing certainty that this has to do with Aemond's hearing, definitely.

So as you move through the hallways of the castle, a sense of joy and nervousness comes over you. The idea that you and Aemond will soon be married fills your thoughts.

It is also clear that your father approved of the union and your mother must be more than happy.

And as you reach the door to the chamber, you inhale deeply before entering, unable to help but smile at the thought of all that lies ahead for you and Aemond, definitely a bright future.

However, as you walk through the doors and your parents' attention is immediately focused on you, your smile is wiped from your lips the moment your mother's palm slams hard against your cheek, the pain instantly washing over you and the surprise at not expecting or even anticipating this.

The surprise and the stunned shock of the blow leave you paralyzed for a moment, unable to react, barely processing what has happened, while the pain invades you.

You bring your hands to the bruised side of your cheek, confused, shocked and in pain watching your mother back with your eyes wide open and your lips parted, beginning to breathe heavily.

"How could you?"

Your mother says to you, her voice full of reproach, disbelief and pain, watching you in horror as the room begins to fill with palpable tension.

Confusion lingers in your eyes as you try to process your mother's shock, her attitude and what she is saying to you.

"How could you be so foolish as to give yourself away like a common whore to Prince Aemond?"

She angrily inquires you, on the verge of tears, as you feel your breath catch and shock wash over you further.

"You did not think of us, not even of yourself nor did you think of your suitors and the consequences that no one will want to take you as a wife when they find out about this, you fool!"

Your mother's fury is unleashed, her dagger-like words stabbing into your chest, adding to the pain you already feel right there and also to the pain of the blow to your cheek that spreads across the entire right side of your face.

Your confusion also intensifies further at her words. And just as you try to articulate a response, feeling your throat dry and tight, your father intervenes.

"Calm down, my dear," he says to your mother, wanting to reassure her.

But despite this, the tension in the room persists, palpable like a storm threatening to erupt at any moment. And your mother's gaze, still charged with fury, turns from you to him.

"I can't stay calm after what happened! How can you be so calm?" she exclaims, with a mixture of disbelief and anger.

Your father, trying to remain calm, approaches your mother and places a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I understand your anger but this is not the time for this. It's all over now and we need to approach this calmly and cautiously. We also don't need to make any more scandal than will already be made," he tells her in a calm voice, though the tension lingers in his eyes.

Your mother's gaze returns to you, her eyes still reflecting the mixture of anger and concern.

"You are lucky to have such an understanding father! You don't know how ashamed I am of you Y/N, I do not know you at all. All your Septas told you, I told you, all through your education you were warned what happened to girls who allow themselves to be ruined before they are married! How is it that you could forget it so easily!?"

"That's enough."

Your father says to your mother, who lets out an incredulous snort, on the verge of hysteria, unable to believe what is happening, while you feel your heart rate increase.

And then your father also addresses you, taking the word, leaving you completely breathless.

"Were you truly naive enough to think this would be settled with the Queen and the Hand approving a marriage between you and Prince Aemond?" he questions you, his eyes reflecting a mixture of reproach and disapproval.

Realization begins to work its way through your mind, watching them back in shock and horror, your heart beating too fast and hard.

They refused.

Aemond's plan didn't work.

You and he would not marry.

"You don't know the trouble and shame you put us through, Y/N. Also yourself after the prince announced that he had taken your maidenhead, believing that so the Queen would have no choice but to marry the two of you," he tells you seriously.

The feeling of shame mixes with the pain in your chest, with surprise still in your eyes, you feel the confusion, worry, disappointment and fear all over your body.

And now it is also the sadness that settles deep inside you, wanting to wish that none of this that is happening is real.

You babble, trying to find the right words to explain yourself in the midst of all this and everything you are feeling with that lump in your throat and in your stomach, having the impression that at any moment you are going to throw up.

"B-but he told me... the prince assured me that he would ask for my hand-

"Yes Y/N, the prince did but the Queen and the Hand did not approve of the union."

Your father repeats to you seriously, causing more pain inside you at the news.

"Otto Hightower was furious, he and the Queen could not believe what the prince was saying."

Confusion, despair and pain mingle with the tears that begin to stream down your cheeks, crying silently, pressing your lips together to prevent any sobs from escaping, as you feel a sharp pain in your chest that burns and hurts you inside.

It all falls on you like a painful weight on your heart, barely managing to process the magnitude of the situation.

And your father, seeing your state, with your pain and anguish, even though this was not something he expected from you and he is extremely upset and disappointed like your mother, sighs and approaches you.

"The Queen apologized to us for her son's indiscretion. And to make up for this mistake and the bad time we had to go through, she has promised us to secure a good marriage for you with Lord Ronan or Lord Alan after all," your father reveals to you as well.

The news penetrates your heart, adding additional weight to your already overwhelming emotions.

Tears continue to wet your cheeks, for although you feel a momentary relief at hearing your father's words, it is overshadowed by the heaviness of the pain that still lingers within you.

Knowing this still hurts you, completely. The news of your future marriage seeming more like a burden than a hope.

For it is not Aemond you will marry, when it was meant to be.

"The prince instantly questioned this, he disagreed and tried to convince his mother. However, his grandsire intervened and told him that he too will soon marry Lady Baratheon. Because of his mistake, his wedding will take place in the next few days to dispel the rumors and try to make amends with his betrothed and Lord Borros by the time they find out," he explains, "Still, the boy did not agree, he was furious. They both started yelling, but his grandfather confronted him skillfully and got him to say no more and finally accept it."

And then your heart ends up breaking into a thousand pieces.

The weight of reality looms over you and your broken heart in an overwhelming way, with the weight of disappointment and sadness is unbearable. And in the midst of all that whirlwind of pain, understanding slowly seeps into your consciousness.

Aemond, the prince you naively sacrificed so much on, didn't fight hard enough for you.

Bitterness intertwines with your sadness at the realization. For he was only content to accept the circumstances, throwing you away to marry another man.

He could have refused, he could have even asked for support from his father, the King, who has the final say in everything. And while you understand that his life decisions are not entirely his, at least he could have done a little more.

While you would have risked everything for him, he did nothing. And with that, your mother's words settle inside your mind, accepting and acknowledging them: foolish, naive and a whore.

He said he loved you, but perhaps last night left him completely satisfied enough and that's why he decided to accept your fate and his without fight it.

A bitter resignation settles into your being, as your tears continue their silent march down your cheeks, wondering if this was his plan all along, to simply give you up after anticipating that his mother and grandfather would never have approved of the union.

For he loses nothing and in fact he did not, for he will marry Floris and when all this is known by the Court, he will not be affected by the rumors, for he is a man.

But you... you lose everything, your dignity and reputation, for being the woman.

And although your father understands the sadness that overwhelms you, he prepares to reveal more news.

"The decision about your future husband was also made at that very moment and it was Lord Ronan who accepted our and the Queen's proposal, along with the approval of his father, Lord Redwyne, in spite of everything," he announces in his slightly soft but serious tone.

And his words echo throughout the room like a final verdict.

But his words especially echo in your ears like a distant echo, as you struggle to process this news, trying to keep your posture, but you cannot.

And resignation mixes with sadness inside you.

You can only let more tears fall, unable to formulate any words, besides you have no right to fight against this.

How could you after, thank the Gods, you will still be able to get married when normally the already ruined girls don't make it?

They are doing you a favor. But still your heart continues to ache. How will it be possible to find happiness in this marriage, when your heart still yearns for someone who is no longer willing to fight for you and practically turned his back on you?

And the news doesn't end there, as your father continues to speak.

"Tomorrow at dawn, you are leaving with Lord Ronan and his family to the south, where their settlements are located, The Arbor."

He announces and your heart stop again, watching him in surprise through your tears and all your suffering face.

"There is where the wedding will take place and we will eventually travel there within the next few weeks to be present, until we manage to calm things down here and our reputation is not so affected," he lets you know.

"Father-

You try to speak with your voice completely broken, but barely the word manages to escape your lips when he won't allow you to speak.

"And there is no argument back against this," he sentences.

With your voice muffled, you don't try to say anything more, as you can't and have no right.

And in the middle of the room filled with regret, you cling to the last spark of resistance within you. Tears are still flowing from your eyes and your sadness has given way to a kind of cold resignation.

The thought of leaving for distant lands, far from what you know, adds yet another layer of complexity to the storm that is passing, as the world you know seems to be crumbling around you.

But everything is already decided.

And knowing that very soon the entire Court will learn of these unfortunate events in the name of your family, your parents lock you in your chamber, with guards guarding your doors, where your father gives the order that no one may enter or leave.

And once within the walls of your room, all alone, with your pain and humiliation, you allow yourself to cry freely and let out all your emotions, with each sob sending a pang of pain to your chest to such an extent that you don't even have tears to cry anymore.

So you can only stare at one spot in your room with your gaze lost, tears drying on both of your cheeks and your whole body aching internally.

When your gaze lands on your secret door, between hope, sadness and despair, you honestly hope he will come.

You long for him to come and explain what happened, to let you know that he has not left you alone nor did he give you up as easily as you were told. You simply wish that, that he would come and comfort you, explain, not let you go.

Yet the silence persists and your hope fades until there is no more daylight coming through your windows.

He chooses to avoid your face and a confrontation, leaving you all alone in the coldness of your room, doing nothing for you.

And you allow, completely broken and hopeless, your room to feel like a crippling prison and darkness to envelop you all around, not having the strength and courage for anything, letting the feeling of betrayal take over and accepting the cruel reality.

He has definitely betrayed you.

And at dawn, you watch as your maids pack up all your possessions, while you watch without saying or doing anything, while your father tries to get you to react, telling you that this is the best thing for everyone, but you say nothing back.

Your mother makes no attempt to talk to you, yet her presence is present, but this does not matter too much to you, as you are silently learning to face the consequences of your own actions and your naive decisions.

You don't even say goodbye to your parents. Or at least it is not an emotional farewell, as you feel nothing.

And finally you emerge from the shadows of Red Keep, walking down the halls with a cold and disinterested attitude, with an expression that shows no emotion. You simply allow yourself to feel nothing more, already too hurt and humiliated to suffer any more.

In the hallways you do not cross paths with a person especially characterized by silver hair, nor with anyone else of the royal family, not even with members of the Court, simply because your father chose the right time in the morning so that you would not cross paths with anyone.

And as you reach the gates and the carriage that will take you away, you look for the last time at the high walls of the place that was once your home, with the feeling that not only are you leaving behind many people and memories, but you are also leaving behind the pieces of your broken heart.

And without looking back any further, you climb into the carriage, leaving King's Landing and everything you know behind.

And at no time did anyone try to stop you. Much less look for you.

After arriving at the Arbor Island, your past life is put on pause for the entire journey.

It was weeks of getting to know other places, especially the lands of The Reach, which are known for being supplied with water and many green areas, which was the most beautiful thing you have ever seen in your life, those roads full of green grass, tall trees and beautiful flowers of different kinds.

You witnessed all this at Rosewood and Bitterbrige, but all this was seen most especially at Highgarden, where the whole cavalry made a stop for the supply of more provisions and a short rest, where you could meet the much acclaimed Tyrell settlement.

And eventually the final stop was made at the Three Towers, where a Redwyne ship took you to the island.

And now about a moon has passed since you settled here.

Everything is absolutely green, the castle is huge with trees and rivers all around, the ocean is not far away and Lord Alan, your betrothed, does his best to make you feel at home, showing you the beauty of the landscapes and the kindness of the residents who are at his family's disposal.

He also shows you the process of making the acclaimed wines and even the military force, as the Redwyne fleet is the most powerful after the king's.

And neither of you, much less him, mentions what happened at King's Landing.

However, coming to a new place, being your new home, settling into your new chamber, being among new walls and a new exterior different from the one that surrounded you before, it brings the pain of the past. And although the place here and all that it holds is beautiful, it does not please you.

You can't fully appreciate the efforts of your future husband or even the efforts of his mother, a kind woman who is happy with your presence and gives you everything you need to make you feel comfortable.

But you are simply not happy.

Your stay here is extremely difficult for you. Sadness invades you without being able to control it and every day is a struggle to be grateful for this, to make yourself understand that you have to forget and accept. That you will never see him again.

And with time, you get used to this change. You learn to recognize the differences between your old home and the new one, even though you still can't stop comparing.

You also don't hear any news about King's Landing since you arrived, particularly from him, you don't ask because you have no interest. This more than anything else has become a haven of indifference, a barrier that you yourself have built to protect yourself.

And all it requires of your time is to familiarize yourself with the place, to spend some time with Lord Ronan and his mother, as well as to listen to the preparations for your upcoming wedding.

The whispers of the people of the Arbor, the murmurs about the union that is coming and will take place soon, where everyone will be celebrating, before all this would have filled your heart with joy and anticipation.

But now, they are just silent reminders of a past that was supposed to belong to someone else.

And the one who is most pleased and visibly excited about the wedding is your mother-to-be by law, Lady Bethany, with whom it becomes a ritual every evening to come and have tea with her.

The aroma of tea fills the terrace as you and Lady Bethany share a quiet moment. Lord Redwyne is currently in the island's harbor overseeing his fleet while Ronan is at his daily training.

The view of the green and beautiful gardens with the ocean in the background creates a serene and peaceful atmosphere, with the sound of birds and other insects enveloping you both.

Lady Bethany, elegantly dressed in a dress of warm tones, wears an elegant pearl necklace that sparkles with every movement. Her gaze, piercing and shrewd, contrasts with the serenity and gentleness in her manner, especially when it comes to you.

"I'm sure the wedding preparations have you exhausted to this point, my dear," she tells you as she holds her dainty teacup gracefully.

"No, no, not at all, my Lady," you lie, trying to make your words convincing, just like your face.

"Well, with the wedding approaching so quickly, I'd like to talk to you about a few final details."

You nod politely, holding your own cup of tea with forced elegance.

"I'm sure you'll love our Septon, it sits among many of our beautiful gardens. It's not very large but it has everything in need," she speaks with an enthusiastic tone, "I was also thinking that the feast could be held right here," she points to the beautiful garden in front of you, "It will be lovely and we have everything we need to be able to fit it in."

She continues talking, but despite the exquisite details Lady Bethany describes to you, your mind is far from the wedding preparations.

You hear what she says, but you don't pay attention to it, hearing it as a distant voice to you, echoing in your ears. You know what you are doing is wrong, rude and inappropriate, but you cannot.

You can't rejoice and enjoy this.

When suddenly, a guard approaches, interrupting the conversation with a respectful bow.

"My Lady's," he bows his head, "I apologize for the interruption."

"No problem, Sr. Stefan," Lady Bethany tells him kindly and cordially, "What has happened?"

"The seamstress has arrived, my Lady," he informs her, "She said she had an engagement with you."

"Oh!" she exclaims with a surprised face, "I quite forgot," he says as he begins to set his tea cup back on the table, rising to his feet, "My dear, I am afraid I must retire for a moment."

"It's all right, my Lady, don't worry," you assure her with a soft smile and she nods in your direction, smiling back at you.

"Very well. I'll see you at dinner time then."

You nod, keeping a soft expression as she walks away down the halls gracefully with the guard behind her.

And now being in your own company, you decide to go for a stroll through the outer corridors that offer the most breathtaking views of the gardens and the ocean stretching into the distance.

Lost in your own thoughts, you walk with your gaze lost in the horizon, when suddenly a firm hand with a certain brutality grabs you by your waist, dragging you into a lonely corner to leave you with no escape.

A stifled scream escapes your lips, as another hand is quickly placed over your mouth.

Your whole world stops for an instant, terror in your entire being, as you scream against that hand and desperately search the hallway for one of the guards, but there is not a single one in sight.

So you struggle to free yourself, screaming and shaking your whole body, but this person's hands block your every move with ease.

"Shh..." a familiar voice whispers close to your ear, where again everything inside you freezes and you open your eyes wide, "Easy, love."

A shiver runs through your entire body, your breath catches and disbelief takes over.

No.

This can't be.

This is impossible.

Your heart begins to pound harder, as you breathe hard through your mouth, your mind refusing to accept what is happening.

Yet you feel the familiarity of those hands, the warmth of his body against yours, feeling his breath on top of your neck and that voice... you know.

You know deep down inside that it really is him.

And the fact is further confirmed the moment he brings his lips to your ear to speak softly to you.

"I'm going to remove my hand now but first I want you to promise that you won't shout or make any fuss, understood? Let's not complicate things, love."

The words barely reach your ears as you process the strange reality of the situation, feeling like your heart will burst out of your chest at any moment as tears begin to form in your eyes.

"Now nod if you have understood," he tells you with a tone of authority.

And in the midst of confusion, surprise, disbelief and everything else you're feeling, your head nods involuntarily, unsure.

"Good girl," he coos in your ear.

You feel the tension in your shoulders and can feel the vibration of his words through your body as he slowly removes his hand from your mouth, letting the air fill your lungs again.

And finally, he gently turns you so that you are both facing each other, his gaze eventually meeting yours.

He's wearing a hood with a cloak that wraps around his face, figure, and also perfectly hides his characteristic silver hair. And somehow, the dark of his clothes slightly camouflages the patch covering his left eye.

The shadow of the hood slips subtly over his facial features, adding a mystery to his presence. And to the side of his hip, his long sword hides between his cloak and body, revealing a bit of his hilt.

You can feel the whirlwind of emotions inside you, from surprise to sadness to anger, as his gaze intensifies, staring at you, his expression hard to decipher.

He is truly here, standing in front of you.

And the air seems to stop for a moment, as if the whole world is suspended by this unexpected encounter. The physical proximity between the two of you is obvious and not because you want it that way, but because the surprise leaves you paralyzed and you can't believe it.

Until finally he speaks.

"There you are," he murmurs with a barely visible smile on his lips, "It took me a while to get here."

It took him a while to get here?

You repeat in your mind, flooded with conflicting emotions, surprise, sadness and anger. How can he be here, after everything that happened? And why just now?

"What are you doing here?" you ask almost in a whisper, your voice completely broken, feeling tears stream down your cheeks, a reaction that takes him by surprise.

"I came for you, of course," he says, placing one of his hands on your waist again and the other on your cheek, wiping away your tears with his thumb, watching you confused and attentive, "Why are you crying?"

I came for you.

The thought leaves you speechless, with his presence and closeness seeming almost intoxicating to you, not bearing it, trying to process the reality of his presence.

And the tears in your eyes reflect the mixture of pain and sadness you feel at that moment.

And finally, not knowing where exactly you take the strength from, as you feel completely weak, you let go of his grip and take a step back with your gaze lowered, an action that Aemond doesn't expect and completely confuses him.

And he receiving no response from you, he acts, ignoring that gesture of yours for the moment, aware that he can't waste any time.

"We should leave before anyone sees us," he mutters, averting his gaze to the hallways to make sure no guards are approaching, attentive and fully alert, "Now."

You, however, stand still, unmoving at his proposal, his words floating in the air and echoing in your ears, creating a palpable tension around you.

"Come."

He says to you, taking your arm, trying to pull you forward along with him. But, again, you don't move and this gets his attention, beginning to get desperate.

"Y/N," he calls to you in a demanding, serious tone.

"No," you finally say, trying to hear yourself firm, breathing hard, "I-I can't," you falter, once again releasing yourself from his grip, not even looking him in the eye, nervousness, confusion and fear taking hold of you, "Leave me alone."

You try to pull away from him, but he stops you, surprised by your words, his gaze reflecting the mixture of disbelief and concern.

"Please, Y/N, there's no time for explanations now," he insists, "We need to leave," he begs, pulling your body closer to his, anxiety rising in you as he looks at you intently, "I promise I'll explain everything and tell you everything, everything you want to know when we leave here."

"I can't leave. I have commitments here," you sentence in the midst of all your pain, trying to look strong.

And once again you loosen your grip on him and try to pull away from him, which ends up wearing his patience thin.

"Oh yes?"

You hear the mockery in his tone behind you and once again, he stops you and grabs you by the waist, gluing your body to his.

"And you think I care about that?" he murmurs dangerously close to your face, watching you defiantly, stealing your breath, "I've already come this far and you're wrong if you think I'll leave empty handed."

Despite the closeness and the threat in his words, you maintain your stance and the next words escape your lips with a firmness that surprises even yourself.

"This is a mistake, Aemond. You shouldn't even be here. You can't take me away."

Aemond watches you in frustration, letting out a sigh, but also having a determination on his face.

"Y/N, you don't understand-

"No, I do understand," you interrupt him with a lump in your throat, "I understood perfectly when you left me alone and did nothing when they decided to send me away after you fuck me."

If there is pain in your words and the cruel reality of them, you don't show it and again free yourself from his grip, which in all your attempts are successful, but he immediately grabs you again with renewed firmness, seeking to make you understand, as if he can fix everything with his presence.

"I told you I'll explain everything when-

"And that makes ten."

He is interrupted now by a third voice also familiar between the two of you, that person appearing doubling down the hallway you are in, just ahead of you.

And before you or Aemond can worry and even act, good and bad, this does not happen, as for like him, Aegon Targaryen has a hood and cloak on, hiding his hair and identity.

And without showing the slightest concern, he drags an unconscious guard away with all his might.

"Hey guys," he says with all the normality in the world when he notices you both, dropping the man's legs with a subtle thump, "I hope he wakes up soon," he comments with a spark of mockery in his tone, observing you and then his brother with a grin, "Good, you finally found her. Now can we go? This playing princes to the rescue is exhausting. I'm not drunk enough for this, I need to drink."

Aemond lets out a sigh and looks at him reproachfully, not letting you go.

"I told you to be discreet when you have to do that."

"That's what I'm doing," he defends himself, "But this man is heavier than the others and I had to drag him," he says and then kicks him gently in the side of his stomach.

Aemond rolls his eye.

"And in fact, I think the other guards already noticed. So we'd better go now," he adds, more serious.

He then picks up a sack hanging over his shoulder, tossing it to Aemond, who nimbly catches it in mid-air and opens it, pulling out another hood just like the one the two of them have and holds it out to you with an expectant, menacing look.

"Now... do I take you with me the good or the bad way?"

Aemond holds the hood in his hand, waiting for your answer and what you are going to do, but you in the midst of confusion and pain, also seeming too much like even Aegon is here, helping him, still try to reason with him.

"Aemond, this is wrong," you plead, "Our families will be furious and this will become a huge problem if you take me with you."

He looks at you, his expression showing no remorse, brushing past your words, not caring.

"Very soon, the guards and surely your dear Ronan will surround us," he begins to tell you in a low tone and in warning, "And you don't want me to hurt him again, do you?" he inquires you coldly, "This time I will not be merciful but if you come with me for good, I will allow him to live."

His words hit you like a bucket of cold water, looking at him completely shocked and horrified, unable to believe it, with the reality of danger taking hold of you.

"I've already made a huge problem out of this by simply coming here, Y/N. Of course my family has figured out because Vhagar and Sunfyre left DragonPit. And believe me I'm not going to mind getting my hands more dirty."

The mention of Ronan is like a dagger stabbing into your chest, reminding you of the implications and the risk Aemond is willing to take.

And it's not fair.

Ronan doesn't deserve it.

He's been nothing but kind and supportive to you, always every moment you were in his company being supportive and wanting to make you feel comfortable, visibly excited and happy every time he showed you his home and what he's so characteristic of.

And while there is also the fear of the consequences of these actions, you feel more of an urgency to protect Ronan, because you will never forgive yourself if something bad happens to him because of you, much less him dying.

"You decide," Aemond says to you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Brother, we have to go now," Aegon announces worriedly, peering intently down one of the corridors, alert.

And there you know.

You press your lips together, don't let any more tears fall and resigned, with your jaw clenched, you practically snatch the black cloaked hood out of his hand and take a couple of steps forward, not wanting to watch him, instantly putting it around your dress and also over your head, hiding your hair.

The tension between him and you is evident and once you finish, he again grabs your arm.

"Let's go," he says to both of you.

Aegon leads the way, and the three of you without wasting any more time enter the huge gardens, instantly with bushes and trees covering you. And as the three of you make your way through the leaves, you hear the sound of them and the rustle of branches with every movement.

And though Aemond guides you, your thoughts are filled with more and more worries and unanswered questions as you go along, anticipating the enormous trouble and scandal this escape is going to bring when your family and Aemond's family finds out.

And behind you, you hear the sound of guards and commotion beginning to be made in the castle, reporting the intruders.

"Now, now, now," Aegon hurries.

Aemond makes you run faster and soon the three of you reach the edge of the island, making your way through the white sand, where you make out a small boat waiting on the seashore, hidden among logs and large palm fronds.

The two brothers quickly push it into the water without much effort, where Aemond hurries you up, instantly wetting the edges of your dress, though it is of no matter.

And once the three of you are up, the two of them take the oars and start pushing the waters.

"This shit is the only thing I didn't like about all this," Aegon says grumpily, making force.

You suppose that having flown the dragons to the island would have been dangerous and the guards would have given the warning before the two of them could have even entered the castle.

So you look back to see if anyone is following them and fortunately they are not, relieving and saddening you at the same time.

The distance from the island to The Reach lands is fortunately short, so you soon approach the shore, to a smaller, unguarded harbor where there are two men watching them as you approach, this alerting you but not alerting the two Targaryen brothers at all.

And once you reach the shore, Aegon is the one who helps you out of the small boat, and then thanks the two men, who take the boat and you see how they have more boats set up in this harbor with oars and fishing nets, so you assume they are fishermen.

And then it is Aemond who approaches them.

"Thank you very much," he tells them and then holds out a small sack to each of them, clearly filled with coins.

"It has been a pleasure, my prince," one of them replies.

And he turns his attention back to you.

"Come," he says, taking your arm again, making you walk.

You don't really know where you are, but you can guess what the city of the Three Towers is, only that the three of you are in a less frequented part of the city.

And with Aegon again leading the way, soon enough you see the dragons hiding behind a small dune, near the harbor, where the great immensity of Vhagar surprises you and makes Sunfyre look extremely small beside him.

You never had the privilege of flying in Vhagar before but today looks like it will be the day.

Aegon turns to Sunfyre and as you and Aemond approach the great dragoness, Aemond says some words to her in High Valyrian that you don't understand, but the imposing figure of her makes you feel intimidated and clearly frightened, especially the moment her huge eyes inspect you after Aemond says those words to her.

"Easy, she's not going to hurt you," Aemond tells you, taking your hand.

Vhagar lets out a short roar in the direction of both of you and that makes you startle.

"Don't be afraid. It's all right," he assures you, leading you with him towards the nets to climb up and mount it.

And you have no choice but to comply.

Aemond and Aegon avoid flying over the lands where the news will come faster where two dragons were seen together in the skies.

Instead, they choose to fly over a part of Dorne and reach the lands of Storm's End, where they are characterized by bad weather, icy winds, heavy rains and thunderstorms, so both brothers decide to stop at Mistwood so that, more than anything else, the dragons can rest.

Throughout the flight with Aemond you made no effort to talk and fortunately neither did he.

At first being in the skies in such a large dragon made you experience a completely unfamiliar sensation that you had never felt before, with mixed emotions, excitement being the strongest of all.

It was simply something unique to you and that you can't quite describe, but it made you forget for a moment about everything that was happend.

Aemond couldn't help the smile on his face when he saw that expression on your face, understanding very well what you were feeling, feeling good after so many weeks, calm and at peace, finally having you in his arms.

He couldn't help but watch you with that adoration, even though he knew there was still something missing in all of this.

Eventually you began to get used to the sensation of flight and you start to feel nervous and uncomfortable as you feel Aemond's body touching yours, as he practically has you locked in his arms.

But finally that ends, for now, as the three of you make a stop due to exhaustion and bad weather.

The three of you seek shelter in a tavern where they also offer temporary lodging. There aren't many people when the three of you enter, just a few men drinking and two women refilling their drinks, while there's an old man behind a piece of wooden furniture.

"How can I help you?"

"Do you have rooms available?" asks Aemond.

"Yeah, six rooms available," he says as he notices the poor keys hanging on the wall behind him.

"I'll stay here for a while," Aegon says suddenly, "I need a drink or I swear I'll go mad."

"You can drink in the room," Aemond tells him reproachfully, "I'm not going to stay up all night making sure you're all right and don't get into any trouble."

"Fine, as you wish," Aegon replies to him raising his hands in surrender.

"So how many rooms, boy?" the man asks.

You swear he is about to say two, but perhaps he could have sensed the discomfort and tension emanating from your body. And then he lets out a long breath.

"Three rooms, please."

You internally thank him, feeling instantly relieved, as he makes the payment.

One of the women leads you to the rooms, and you enter yours without addressing a word to any of the brothers, desperately needing to be alone and give yourself a time, as well as take a bath.

Fortunately no one bothers you and you only require the help of the woman from before to fill the bathtub with warm water. And she also kindly provides you with dry clothes while you let your rain-soaked dress dry by the warmth of the fireplace.

Then you watch the rain fall through the small window as you stand near the fire, when there is a soft knock on your door. And before you can answer, the door opens and Aemond enters the room, watching you intently.

You press your lips together and lower your gaze, pretending to be occupied with something in your hands.

"Are you all right?" he asks you softly and attentively, keeping a respectful distance.

"Yes," you answer briefly and without emotion, only hearing between the two of you the creaking of wood and the rain outside.

"Do you need anything?"

"No."

He lets out a long breath and guessing from this, he must look tired and frustrated, to which you decide not to take any notice and continue without looking at him, wanting to be alone.

"If you need anything or anything happens, I'll be next door."

You don't say anything, just bite the inside of your cheek and wait for him to finally leave.

"Good night," he says in a defeated voice then walks away and closes the door.

At dawn and practically at first light, the three of you resume your flight back to King's Landing.

The three of you approach Vhagar and Sunfyre, who are not far from the tavern, hidden in the forest among huge and frightening trees. Aegon mounts his dragon first, and again Aemond helps you scale Vhagar's massive size, standing behind you at all times and making sure you don't fall.

And with a mighty flapping of wings, the two dragons take to the sky with flight towards the horizon.

And while it was impossible not to think that the flight with Aemond would be uncomfortable again, you still hoped that things between him and you wouldn't feel so tense.

However, that's exactly what happens.

Practically your back is against his chest, his arms on either side of your waist to take the reins and every now and then you feel his warm breath on the back of your neck which, without knowing exactly why, sends shivers all over your body and makes you uncomfortable.

Being with him like this only relives the first and last time you both spent the night together in your mind and you want to take your distance, which is impossible. And it also relives the pain.

What happened the next morning makes the whole memory painful and overshadows all the happiness you felt at the time.

And in the midst of everything you're feeling, wishing this would end soon, Aemond suddenly breaks the silence between the two of you.

"They never told me," he murmurs in your ear, tensing your body the instant you hear him.

His words leave you bewildered. You don't understand what he's referring to, but you don't decide to ask either. And in the silence that follows, Aemond continues.

"They never told me they would send you away the next day."

This makes your heart flip and involuntarily this catches your attention, not daring to say anything, let alone turn your head to watch him, but feeling the intrigue inside you.

"After everything that happened in the Council Chamber, I had a plan."

He confesses to you and your breath catches at that moment.

"I wanted to keep my mother and grandsire off guard by making them think I had agreed to their terms. And I didn't look for you all that day because I was planning, that at the right time, I would come for you with the help of Aegon and Helaena and we would marry in secret at the Septon."

The impact of his words resonates within you, creating surprise and disbelief in your thoughts, as you feel your heart begin to beat too hard and you begin to breathe through your mouth.

"But I didn't know that, besides trying to see you would be too risky and would only delay things more, so I focused on preparing a discreet escape," he continues with his tone relieving his vulnerability, "And when Hel didn't see you with the ladies or anywhere else, she told me and I got worried. I tried to look for you, but before I knew it, you were gone."

You bite the inside of your cheek as tears begin to form in your eyes and you process the revelation of his words that envelopes you in a sense of overwhelming emotions, shock, disbelief and sadness.

"I couldn't do anything against it and my plan fell apart," he admits, in his voice mixing regret and frustration, "I had hoped to be able to explain you, to take you as my wife and protect you from everything that would come after, because being wed no one could separate us anymore. But, as always, nothing went as I expected and I failed."

The surprise fades and leaves room for sadness and regret, as silence stretches between the two and only the sound of the wind and the flapping of Vhagar's huge wings can be heard.

With the unexpected revelations, Aemond's words float in the air and for a moment you find yourself lost in the feeling of your emotions, with tears streaming down your cheeks, with the feeling of regret and frustration, realizing the complexity of the situation now and then.

You still can't watch him, even though you feel Aemond tilt his head over one of your shoulders, wanting to watch you, but you don't let him. And now it is you who dares to break the silence with a shaky question.

"Did you get married?" you ask, tears still sliding down your cheeks.

"No, Y/N. I never did."

You instantly frown, not understanding.

Your father that very day told you that Aemond was to be wed soon, but not to you. Besides, the Queen and the Hand seemed very serious about making amends with Lord Borros and Floris Baratheon, so the wedding must have taken place, definitely.

"But... my father told me that day..." you swallow hard, " That your wedding to Lady Floris would take place in the next few days."

Aemond sighs and you can feel the heaviness in his reply.

"Yes, but I did everything I could to delay that wedding and eventually... it never happened."

You are silent for a moment, breathing through your mouth.

"And what happened?" you ask in a shaky voice.

"Two days ago the wedding finally took place but Aegon helped me escape the Keep to come for you."

Aemond's words clutch at your heart and disbelief along with surprise intertwine within you as you try to process the magnitude of the words he has just revealed, leaving you breathless. Even you can't describe exactly what you feel.

He abandoned his family.

He did not fulfill his duty... for you.

Surprise mixes with relief in your emotions, but uncertainty also arises. And finally, your eyes desperately seek his, needing him to confirm that what he is telling you is no lie.

His gaze seeks yours for understanding and support, being terribly honest with you. And in the midst of all his remorse and determination, a faint sad smile forms on his lips, in your direction.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, insistent and pleading, "I truly didn't know you'd be sent away the next day and had I known..." he sighs, averting his gaze from yours for the burden of the situation and denies with his head, "I thought my plan would work."

You can't say anything, you don't even know what exactly you feel about all this as Aemond stands there, sadness and determination in his gaze, waiting for your reaction.

But you can't think clearly, you can only look away from him and stare straight ahead, your lips parted.

You still feel shocked, but now you understand the depth of the sacrifices he has made, something you had no idea of. How could you have known that he, for you, had abandoned his duty even considering the grave consequences he will soon have with his family?

When you first saw him on the island, you thought he was married to Floris and only wanted to take you for his selfish whim. But now, you understand everything.

And yet the words get stuck in your throat as you struggle to articulate a response, sadness reflecting in your eyes and you don't even know what to do, unable to fully articulate your thoughts and feelings.

When he again speaks, breaking the silence.

"Do you still hate me?" he asks you softly and with some fear.

His tone carries with it uncertainty and he gives you your full attention, as you take a moment before responding, trying to find the right words for everything you're feeling at that moment.

"I don't know," you confess, in a low murmur, not daring to look at him, "It's too much... all of this is too much."

He nods sympathetically, understanding everything you must be feeling. And, a little unsure at first, he lifts one of his hands slowly, as if afraid that any sudden movement might break the calmness of the situation and then his fingers gently touch your cheek, caressing you slowly, turning your face very carefully towards his.

And there he is again, seeing his beautiful violet eye and unconsciously, his touch and closeness comfort you.

"I just want you to know that every choice I made was in the hope that we could finally be together, as husband and wife," he tells you sincerely.

And again you close your eyes and let the tears roll down your cheeks and he wipes them away, hating to see you cry, not liking that sight but doing his best to ease your pain, even though he is the cause.

"At least you could have let me know what you were planning... in one way or another," you say sadly, "You truly hurt me that day and I felt so... used and broken."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," he says instantly, sad and remorseful, "I'm very sorry, my sweet girl. I promise you that was never my intention. I never thought badly of you, nor was it my wish for you to marry someone else. When I was told that I was furious, Y/N. Especially because I couldn't say anything about it. And when I found out you were gone... I swear I felt I was going to go mad."

You notice the sincerity of his confession and let out a long breath, as Aemond releases the reins with his free hand and holds it at your waist, hugging you. And then he rests his forehead against the side of your head, then leaves soft, comforting kisses on your left cheek.

And despite the discomfort of the position you find yourself in, you turn your body as best you can and seek refuge in his arms, close your eyes and feel the warmth emanating from his body instantly.

His fingers begin to trace gentle circles on your back above your cloak, seeking to bring you comfort and understanding.

Tears continue to slowly stream down your cheeks as he holds you against his body, the difference being that you no longer feel that weight on your being and feel relief instead.

You sigh deeply as Aemond's fingers now gently caress your head, until you finally feel good and separate yourself enough from him to look into his eye.

But you say nothing, just tilt your head towards him and the two of you bring your foreheads together, as Vhagar continues the course of the flight and Sunfyre keeps flying by a few more clouds above.

"Are you all right?" he asks you softly and you nod.

You close your eyes and look straight ahead again, dropping your head between his chest and shoulder with a relieved gesture, to which he can more easily enclose you in his arms.

"Yes," you murmur, then look around briefly.

It's impossible to tell where you are from this height, mostly because you're unfamiliar with the skies, so you decide to ask.

"How close are we to King's Landing?"

You wait for him to respond by telling you that they are flying over the name of some land and give you an approximate of how long until they both arrive at the place where chaos will once again be unleashed by the actions of both of you.

However, you don't expect that kind of answer at all.

"We are not flying into King's Landing."

Instantly you raise your face to him in complete bewilderment.

"I'm going to take you somewhere else."

"Where to?" you ask completely attentive.

Aemond doesn't say anything right away, just lets the wind wrap around you both for a moment as your unease envelops you and you continue to watch him waiting for an answer.

"To Dragonstone."

He finally says and another pause hangs in the air as you raise your eyebrows, still not fully comprehending, when his gaze meets yours, as if he is searching for some clue in your eyes before he continues.

"That's where we're getting married."

Total surprise takes hold of you, your mouth half opens but no words come out and for an instant, nothing comes to your mind to make you react.

Aemond watches your reaction, fearful of what your expression might reflect. And the uncertainty in his gaze mixes with fear as he watches you completely attentively.

"You still want to marry me?" he asks.

His question hangs in the air, as time seems to fade around you and a wave of thoughts invade your mind, surprise and trepidation, deeply understanding his intentions.

Uncertainty is still present, but a spark of longing begins to glow in your eyes.

Aemond eagerly awaits your response, his watchful gaze searching for any expression in yours. And there you see how his own burden of desire and waiting for your acceptance is there.

Then you feel a surge of warmth in your chest.

And finally a small smile forms on your lips, and then you slowly lean into him, closing the distance between you, and press your lips gently on top of his.

It is your silent response, but full of meaning.

And at this, Aemond relieves, feeling the certainty of your choice, while his arms hold you tenderly, as if he fears this is a cruel dream, responding to your kiss with as much warmth and touch as possible.

The wind fiddles with your hair as the majestic flapping of Vhagar's wings engulfs them, heading towards Dragonstone with a great and promising purpose.

And soon both dragons find themselves landing on the island, where Princess Rhaenyra, Princess of Dragonstone, resides with her family.

At Dragonstone, Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen, along with several other guards, immediately emerge from the black castle with confused, distrustful and curious gazes.

Aemond is the one who takes the word, addressing Rhaenyra, but it is Daemon who responds and very soon they find themselves having an intense discussion. It is Daemon who proclaims that neither of them have any place on the island and that they should not be here.

Aegon and Aemond argue with this, trying to talk to Rhaenyra mainly, but Daemon always vouches for her. Until finally Rhaenyra speaks and listens to the request of her two half-brothers.

Despite the clear rivalry between the two families of the very ill King Viserys, for Rhaenyra that they, especially Aemond, have thought of her to ask for her help with matters of the heart and not politics, speaks to her.

Despite the accident at Driftmark, a night Rhaenyra later spent a lot of time thinking about, she understands that from the beginning, since she and Alicent were little girls, the problem was always with Otto Hightower and his persuasive ideas on Crown decisions.

And when Rhaenyra agrees to help them, Aemond thinks that this is not the acceptance of forgiveness, it is just her half-sister doing him a favor she owes him for that terrible night, where Luke received no punishment.

Besides, there is no time to remember past events, the only thing he cares about is marrying you as soon as possible.

Daemon reproaches and questions his wife's decision, but she decides not to listen to him. She simply wants peace to finally exist between her father's two families and in the Realm.

Rhaenyra provides Aemond and you with everything you need. Even the robes, the dragonglass, the chalice and she also offers to officiate the union for lack of a Septon at the time.

And then... finally the Valyrian wedding takes place amidst the ancestral stones of Dragonstone.

The wind caresses your faces, as if the ancient dragons and the ancient Gods were present, blessing this special moment. You and Aemond stare at each other, face to face, with Aegon as your witness, as Rhaenyra recites the words in High Valyrian.

"Hen lantoti ānogar."

Blood of two.

"Va sȳndroti vāedroma."

Joined as one.

The blade cuts the lips of both, then both collect the blood with their thumbs and place it as a circle on each other's foreheads.

"Mēro perzot gīhoti."

Ghostly flame.

"Elēdroma iārza sīr."

And song of shadows.

"Izulī ampā perzī."

Two hearts as embers.

Then the two cut the palm of each other's hand, join them together and let the blood run into the chalice between your bodies.

"Prūmī lanti sēteksi."

Forged in fourteen fires.

"Hen jenȳ māzīlarion."

A future promised in glass.

The two drink from each other's blood.

"Qēnlossa ozūndessi."

The stars stand as witness.

"Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo."

The vow spoken through time.

"Rȳ kīva mazvestraksi."

Of darkness and light.

And finally, the Valyrian wedding is culminated and permanently sealed as the sun sets over Dragonstone and Aemond's lips claim yours in a passionate and needy kiss, with both of you tasting the faint taste of each other's blood on your lips.

And only then and there, the two of you are finally happy, this being what you had so longed for and hoped for, long ago giving it up for lost. But now, he can call you his wife and you call him your husband.

Eventually the news reaches King's Landing, unleashing a new wave of worry and trouble, but now both you and Aemond are at ease, for no one can separate you now, let alone discredit a Valyrian wedding.

And you both consummate the marriage under the moonlight reflecting off Dragonstone, joining as one, as it was meant to be, long ago.

taglist next part:

@a-beaverhausen

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

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carolmunson · 11 months

Text

always something there to remind me (s.h.)

summary: ten years after the sealing of the upside-down, you and your fiance steve head to a cookout to unwind during memorial day weekend. with steve on edge after a rough half sleep full of night terrors, you hope the day can be salvaged by seeing the party and just relaxing, but a violent thunderstorm changes those plans for the worse. pairings: steve x reader, lumax, edancy. heavy on the steddie brotp tho.

tw: 18+ as always. this story deals with themes of mental illness and ptsd, it is only intended for mature audiences. descriptions of ptsd flashbacks, internal and external (please be advised they are dramatizations). partner violence (unintentional). drinking/smoking. discussions of mental illness. very moody steve but very soft steve. features some tense arguments. smut, like, very loving and passionate smut. this relationship is not perfect, it's also a depiction of a moment in time in 1997. the emotional load was very much a woman's job and i personally think steve would be 'too proud' to be 'too soft' about his stuff. so there are parts that seem kind of 'eh' but -- that's just how things were sorta. gif by @kingofscoops

His pill case sounded like a rattle when you took it from the medicine cabinet, taking it into the kitchen where he was shrugging on his freshly ironed polo. The ironing board and hot iron still set up by the counter. The black stone contrasted nicely against your cherry wood cabinets that he installed two summers ago. That was when you both thought he might be getting better: the night terrors were less and less frequent, the flashbacks far and few between, he was less tense, less irritable. Seeking you constantly for soft touches and kisses, any kind of affection he could pull from you he'd take willingly. Two years ago was your two year anniversary -- when he finally told you the real story. Why he had all those scars, why he can't sleep, why he wakes up in a cold sweat crying. Why you'd never been able to figure out which health care company was providing him with so much medication and therapy when he was working part time at the hospital -- it's because it was the FBI.

It was two years ago where they took you to an underground office where they told you everything. Steve sat next to you, gripping your hand so tightly you thought it might break. They reassured over and over that nothing was coming back, that everything was over, but that Steve and his friends will likely never recover emotionally and mentally from what they endured. Four years into things now, you were both his fiance and his nurse. You checked in monthly with his caseworking team, but in these last few months, they've had nothing but shaky reports. You wondered if maybe his mind just isn't as sharp as it used to be -- you both just entered your thirties, maybe things get knocked loose quicker when you've been to hell and back. "Here, honey," you say softly, putting his pill case on the table. He looks at them and sighs, amber eyes lingering on the 'Saturday' section of the pill box. "Let me get you some wa--" "You don't need to give me my pills every day," he says -- it's soft and sharp, "I know I have to take them. I've been takin' them for ten years."

You offer him a tight smile, "I know, Stevie..." You trail off. 'It's important that he feels in control of the situation, a lot of his role when he was in this situation was to protect others. Try not to baby him about it, he might be fragile, but he doesn't like to feel like he is.'

"It's just...I don't want a repeat of last year," you quietly remind him. He had gotten too sure of himself when he started to feel better -- missing days, stopping altogether, off and on.

He reaches for the pill case and pops open the Saturday square, tossing the main five pills into his palm and then into his mouth. Pain, anti-depressant, anti-anxiety, migraine, blood thinner. The heavy stuff sat in the cabinet above the fridge: Quaaludes, Oxycontin, Sumatriptan, Clozapine -- among others. Every day was a reminder to him that he didn't come out of this a stronger person. His dad let him know that at every visit, treating him like he had a son made of glass. "Don't," he says after he swallows, "Don't start with me."

Your eyes narrow in on the finger he puts up in warning and travels down to his big hand, a vein popping in his forearm and under the band of his watch. His bicep flexes against his polo, you follow it across the expanse of his chest and down the other arm, landing back on the pill case.

You knew last night what kind of day it would be this morning. Desperate reaches for you while he woke up from another nightmare, his damp chest up against yours while he hid his face in your neck. He hugs you so tightly to him so he doesn't float away, and you match his strength as best you can until he falls back asleep. Sometimes it takes hours of stroking his hair and soothing him before he feels safe enough to even close his eyes. In the years you've been together, he's been more and more embarrassed over these needier nights. 'It's just, baby -- I'm a man. I have to get over all this shit.'

"I'm not starting anyth--" "You are," he warns, eyes narrowing. He clenches his jaw, "Don't."

"M'sorry," you breath out. You take the pill case when he sets it back down and bring it back upstairs to the main bathroom. You refill the case before placing it back in the medicine cabinet with a sigh. When it closes you look at yourself in the mirror, no longer the fresh 26 year old he met at the hospital admin desk when he started his part time job as an assistant in the children's psych floor. Gaining hours towards getting his pediatric therapist licensure to help kids who were like him and his friends -- well, sort of. To some extent. You smooth over your button down dress, his favorite one in your closet -- navy blue with beige flowers littering the fabric. It flounces over you in dips and swoops, falling just under your knee. Another sigh and you grab your purse from the bedroom and slip on your sandals, clip clopping down the stairs where you hear him grab the keys. Another Saturday morning where the group gets together and just hangs out, even though Steve sees Eddie, Rob, and Dustin pretty often throughout the week. They've been doing it for years now, but the outside buzzed with the promise of summer, Memorial Day weekend making everyone feel more at ease. Everyone except Steve.

He slams the car door when he gets in the drivers seat, making you jump in the leather of his Lexus. He runs his hands over his jean clad thighs, having grown in size over the last six years with age and trips to the gym. 'I just wanna be in like, peak physical condition if anything tries to come back. I wanna be more ready than when I was a kid, y'know?' And while the muscle was certainly titilating, it made for a very wary you when things went left. "Don't be like that, Stevie," you say softly, your voice calm and gentle like it is with patients on the floor, "I promise I wasn't trying to get on your case. Do you -- I don't know, do you wanna just stay home?" "No," he snaps, looking ahead toward the road as he starts the car, "I didn't pack a cooler full of all the shit you made for this cook-out just the stay home." "Can you relax?" you ask a little harsher than you planned, "Are you even good to drive?" "I'm good. To drive," he says through gritted teeth, pulling down the street. "Are you sure? 'Cause -- Honey you -- you didn't sleep so good last night and I --" He hits the breaks hard, stopping short at a stop light turning to look at you, tilting his head a bit to glare at you down the slope of his straight nose.

"Drop it," he says, the tenseness in his voice sends a chill up your spine. "Stevie I'm not trying t --" "Drop. It." he warns again, "Don't make me raise my voice at you." "Don't talk to me like that," you say sharply while he pulls the car forward when the light turns green. "Then don't talk to me like I'm a fucking child," he snaps back. "Well maybe if you didn't have an attitude with me like one I wouldn't have to," you cross your arms over your seat belt and huff. He shakes his head slowly, tongue tight between his teeth. He thought he knew better than to fall in love with someone who had a tongue as sharp as his. "You're askin' for an argument when you say shit like that to me," he says lowly, the Lexus crunching over helicopter seeds while he navigates through the neighborhood. You see his shoulders rise and fall while he attempts to steady himself -- fuse lit and ready to blow. "I'm sorry," you follow up, a deep breath filling your chest. You uncross your arms to lean your elbow on the edge of the window, resting your cheek in your hand, "I didn't mean that." "You did," he responds, tight and frustrated, quiet. He hastily reaches into his back pocket with one hand, eyes still on the road. Steve pops a cigarette between his full lips and you sigh at the sound of the lighter flicking. “What’s wrong now, hm?” he asks while the cigarette dangles from the corner of his mouth, “What’s your problem?” “Nothing,” you say – it’s something. He takes a drag and blows the smoke out the open window, “It’s just that you bought that pack yesterday and it’s already half way gone. You always chain smoke when you –” “Give me a fucking break,” he snaps, voice raising with each word, “God, can you let me have fuckin’ anything?” “No Steve, I guess not. God forbid I look out for your heal–” you start sarcastically. “Look out for yourself, baby,” he says sharply into the rearview so you can see his glare, “I’m doin’ just fine without you on my back.” You bicker the rest of the way to Ed and Nancy’s house, he only raises his voice one more time.

Eddie and Nancy's wedding was one for the ages, something about the mixture of straight laced and all over the place that made sense when they tied the knot. The pair, you were told, seemed unlikely until Eddie was in recovery after being removed from the Upside Down. He was down there for six months, tested on for another six. The Party and the older kids would visit him every day, keeping him updated and fed and hydrated. They'd cheer him on when he made advances in his mobility -- but for the most part he just needed rest. Nancy was working a lot, throwing herself into journalism like she always wanted, so she'd come to the hospital late. She wasn't really one for small talk so instead, she'd just read. She'd read aloud while he was asleep, her voice slow and calm -- stoic. Keeping him lulled like still water, she didn't even know if he knew she was there. One night, she picked up where she left off on the first installment of Lord of the Rings, continuing in her soft stoic voice. She watched him lay there with his eyes closed, breath steady, the beeps of the hospital machines in quiet rhythm with him. She at frist felt silly before she started, but maybe in his dreams he could hear her, and maybe just maybe if she does something fun, he won't have nightmares tonight. So she tries it...she puts on a silly voice for Samwise, and she continues with her silly voices. Gruff and manly for Aragorn, gleeful for Sam, some weird form of Scottish for Gimli. She bites her lip, smiling as she tries each one, shaking her curly head at her ridiculousness and stops. Then she hears it...the low rumbling giggle from Eddie in his hospital bed. "Keep going, it's funny..." he said with a grin, eyes still closed. "You can hear me?" she asked, trying to stifle her giggle. "I can hear you every night," he said, eyes peering open slightly, "It's the best." "Do you want me to keep reading?" she asked with a blush. He nods, a soft grin pulling up on his lips while he eyes closes again, "Only if you do the voices."

When you park in the driveway it's clear that the rest of the group arrived before you, their cars already Tetris'd into their places. Steve lugs the cooler out of the back seat with a grunt, hoisting it to rest on his broad shoulder. You roll your eyes at his machismo, like someone is watching him at all times and he has something to prove. You both walk to the back, the sounds of music and conversation and laughter bubbling louder and louder as you get to the gate of the yard.

A symphony of 'Heeeyyy!' and 'There he is!' and 'Finally!' come from the group as he opens the gate and you follow in toe. Eddie comes over quickly to help with the cooler, his hair still as long as it was when he was 20 – the only real updates being his five o’clock shadow and the ring in his nose. A few more weary tired lines by his eyes. His home made Iron Maiden muscle tee had a small sweat mark by the neckline – they must’ve been out here getting ready all morning. “Hey man,” he grins when the cooler gets set down, pulling Steve in for a tight hug. “Hey,” Steve smiles, patting his back hard, savoring the hold. “You alright?” Eddie asks when he lets go, putting a hand to his face, “You feeling okay?” Steve smiles tightly and nods but Eddie only half buys it, returning his look before turning to you. He comes forward, kissing both your cheeks with his full lips, scruff scratching at your skin, “Hi, sweetheart.” “Hi Ed,” you grin, watching everyone else come up to say their hellos. “Where’s Nance?” Steve asks, but his question is answered when she waddles out of the sliding door of the kitchen with a pitcher of lemonade. From the back, you’d have no idea she was seven months pregnant, but from the side – let’s just say, it was gonna be a real big boy. “Honey, what did I say?” Eddie calls out, walking over to her and taking the pitcher. “It’s not even heavy,” she chides back with an exasperated eye roll. You giggle at their bickering, listening to their sweet back and forth with a gentle ache in your chest. You wonder if Steve will be the same way when you’re pregnant. You wonder if the back and forths will sound so sweet, so innocent, so soft. Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the cooler opening, turning to look and grab what you can to put in the fridge inside. Steve takes the meat out to put by the grill and a few appetizers that you put together last nice. You take the icebox cake and chocolate covered strawberries, hurrying with them through the sliding door into the kitchen. “I know, mommy just thinks she can do it all,” Eddie coos, resting his hands on Nancy’s stomach while she slices cheeseburger toppings on the counter, “She just won’t rest, are you gonna be like that too? You gonna run me ragged? You gonna be just like mommy?” Nancy laughs and it’s half airy, half from deep in her belly, “Look, it’s just better if I’m active so that I’m not surprised by it when he’s born.” “I know,” he says, kissing her cheek, “I know. You still love me, Wheeler?” “Love you always,” she grins, blushing when she sees you come in with desserts, “Oh! Oh my goodness, let me help you!” “I got it!” you say, “Just hope there’s room in the fridge!” When everything’s loaded up you give each other a hug, watching as Eddie and Steve have a mildly stern conversation about who is grilling what. ‘It’s my grill.’ ‘And? It’s my meat.’

“Do you think they should just kiss?” you ask while you watch them. “Honestly, I feel like they need to at this point," she laughs, "Go on outside, I’ll be out in a few,” Nancy encourages and you make your way back out into the very early summer heat – mugginess starting to soak the air around you. Before you know it, you’re already being pulled over to the picnic table to watch a game of Magic the Gathering between Lucas, Max, Dustin, Mike, and Will. El doesn’t come back to Hawkins very much,so you’ve been told – she’s the only person from the group you haven’t met. “So is this like D&D?” you ask, resting your cheek against your palm while you lean on the table. “Yes and no,” Max explains, looking at her options, “It’s like…” “Like poker but D&D,” Dustin says, making Mike, Will, and Lucas snort. “I think that’s the easiest way to explain it to you,” Mike says. “I trust that,” you laugh with them. You’ve been consistently hopeless with trying to learn the mechanics of Dungeons and Dragons but still enjoy watching, loving it more when Steve decides to join a campaign. He lets loose in ways you’ve never seen when he does, smiling and laughing, free like a child in the summertime. The sun beating on your back suddenly disappears when you hear Steve come up behind you with a hand on your shoulder, “Can I have my glasses, honey?” “They’re in the glove box,” you say, turning around, “Why do you need them?” “Oh, is Erica making you read her thesis outline?” Lucas asks, “Just tell her to buzz off. She already passed it in.” “Sinclair – don’t be an asshole,” Steve gives him a look that can only be described as ‘bitchy’, “She wants some assurance. We need another psychologist in the family, and she’s obviously the only one smart enough to get it done.” “Rude,” Max deadpans, flicking her eyes up at him. “You’re rude, twerp,” he says back, he turns back to you after sucking his teeth, "My glasses?"

“I just said, in the glovebox,” you repeat, a little sharper than you meant to. He lets out a huff through his nose, looking at you like he can’t believe you’d get snippy with him before stomping off toward the gate of the yard. “Is he alright?” Dustin asks quietly, “I saw him on Thursday he just…I don’t know, he seems a little tense.” “He had a bad night,” you explain, toying at a splinter in the wood, “He’ll be okay.” The sun disappears again but not from the expanse of your fiance’s shoulders and chest, but from a thick cloud moving slowly across the sky. The relief from the heat is almost welcomed until you feel the humidity raise a bit in the air – a little too tight, a little too suffocating for your taste.

The party is in full swing while Meredith Brooks’ ‘Bitch,’ blares from the boom box, Nancy and Max screaming the lyrics with abandon while the boys groan. You smile at how much fun they’re having, the afternoon going smoothly enough that you haven’t had time to notice how cloudy the sky had become. Your eyes linger on Steve, glasses on while looking at Erica’s thesis outline with her on the back porch. He had a pen in one hand and a cigarette in the other, the fifth one in the last hour and a half. "You got something here," he says to her, tapping his pen while continues reading, "Your argument's really strong -- especially about the rates of homelessness, it's almost always trauma related." "Well -- I am me," she says. He raises his brows and nods in agreement. "Can't spell America without Erica," he teases. You watch him, how gentle he is and how he taps through outline, asking her questions about how she feels about the finished thesis, where she got it bound, if the articles he sent over were helpful. They speak in words you don't understand, but it's okay -- he looks calmer, brows softened while they talk, so encouraging. "I'm a bitch, I'm a lover, I'm a child, I'm a mother, I'm a sinner, I'm a saint, I do not feel ashamed --"

Eddie's rasp pierces the groups singing and conversation as he belts the lyrics next to his wife. Everyone looks up to watch him go, laughing as he does. "We should cover this," he grins, "Me and the guys, we gotta cover this at the next show." "So you can get boo'd off the stage?" Mike laughs. "So I can make sure your ass doesn't get in the bar?" he asks back. Mike scowls while Dustin laughs at him -- it's always smarter to not try it with Eddie, he'd always get you back ten fold. With a jolt, you feel something cold hit your hand, looking down to see a water drop splat against your skin. Then another, and another, and another. After the fourth or fifth, the rain starts to come down -- and then it starts to pour. "Alright!" Nancy calls, "Everyone grab something and head inside." The Party rises, wincing as the rain pellets down on them while everyone grabs a foil tray or covered Pyrex filled with food. You follow suit, hurrying inside with the undressed cheeseburgers and buns, laying them safe on the counter in the kitchen. Everyone else starts to file in, Steve and Eddie turning off the grill while the sky starts to darken significantly. The first rumble of thunder sends everyone's face to a flat line -- you wished Robin wasn't spending the weekend in New York City so that you'd have someone on the front lines with you and Nancy to keep everyone at ease. Nancy and Robin definitely had their moments but had a much tighter grasp on the world around them now.

A few flashes of lightening crack followed by deep rumbles of thunder. Boom, crack! Boom, crack, crack! You notice everyone resettle themselves around the kitchen table -- jittery, quiet. You sit down across from Steve while he looks down, following the woodgrain with his finger. You keep your gaze on his chest, watching for a tell -- he swallows the frustration he feels from having your eyes on him. "It's alright guys, just a storm," Nancy reminds everyone gently while she brings in the last of the food from outside. Eddie gets her seated before opening things back on the counter, the kitchen smelling like barbecue while he opens the foils. The conversations start around you again while you sit across from Steve, the tension sitting like a weighted stone in your chest. Another flash of lightning and that's when you notice it, the twitch of his hand. The thunder rumbles and he reaches up to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger under his glasses. Shit. "You okay, honey?" you ask him softly. He swallows, jaw clenching, "Mhm." "Okay," you nod, trying not to bring attention to it just yet, just incase it passes. The thunder booms again and he lets out a breath through his nose, he takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes more agressively. You tap your foot under the table and he can hear it, he can hear everything in the room -- the scrapes of foil on foil. The separate conversations. Eddie's laugh while he talks to Nancy. The clinks of silverware. Ice in cups. The drumming of fingers. Your tap. Tap. Tap. Tapping. Under the fucking table could you just stop tapping your fucking foot -- The next crack of lightening is so intense it shakes the house and everyone gets quiet. 'Just a storm', Nancy reminds, but her voice sounds far away. Thunder rumbles again in the distance and he swears when the lightening flashes through the windows it's red. He rubs his eyes again, a short burst of breath coming through his nose. 'Honey?' he hears you but its like he has cotton in his ears. The thunder rumbles again, the slick squelching of vines starts to creep into the sound of it. Another crack of lighting and the lights in the kitchen flicker. But when they turn back on Steve isn't with the group anymore. He's not even in the kitchen. He's back at the Creel House. 'Baby? Steve?' your voice is distant -- does Vecna have you? Did he find you? Is he taking you away from him? Steve whimpers, getting out of the chair, pulling at the roots of his light brown locks -- desperate to pull himself out of the memory, "Help, please..."

"I'm here, Steve," you say rounding the table while the rest of the group stands back, getting ready to help. Max grabs a boom box and Lucas runs to his car to grab his tapes with everyone's favorite songs on it -- just in case. Dustin approaches him slowly, hands out in front of him while Steve shrinks to the floor, back against the cabinets. "Steve, it's me, it's Dustin," he says calmly and slowly, "You're in Eddie's kitchen, Steve." But Steve only hears Dustin saying his name -- Dustin must be in trouble. "I'm coming," Steve says, eyes shut tight, falling further away. You watch as sweat grows on his hair line and neck, muttering a fuck under you breath. This was gonna be a bad one. "Honey, honey," you continue, kneeling down in front of him to ease his hands off of his hair, "You're okay, you're safe. I'm with you." 'Honey.' He hears your voice in the distance, searching for you in the blue black haze of the Upside Down, the thick particles of dust in his eyes. The slither of vines covers the walls and the floors while he ascends the stairs -- where are Nancy and Robin? Weren't they with him? "Nance?" You watch him call out for Nancy and she goes to get up but Eddie puts his hand delicately on her shoulder. He shakes his head no at her, "Just talk to him," he says to her. 'I'm here, Steve, it's okay!' 'It's okay!' But it's not Nancy's voice, it gets more an more deep, more gravelly, more like him. Steve flinches in front of you, soft 'no, no, no's slipping from his mouth. 'Stevie...' Where are you? Does he have you? 'S̷T̴E̶V̴I̷E̵.'

The sound of Vecna's voice booms in his ears, the thunder rumbling, the red lighting flashing to light up the house. You were never here -- Vecna tricked him. He breathes hard, looking around while the vines snake around, searching for him. "Okay, okay baby," you say hurriedly, watching him while he starts to hyperventilate. You raise your voice to get through to him, "Honey you gotta take some deep breaths for me, okay? Can you hear me?" Max and Lucas come back, smacking the tape into the radio and fastforwarding until Marc Cohn's Walking In Memphis crackles through the speakers. They both heave breaths while the song plays, leaning over the table to settle down from running. "You hear the song, honey?" you ask, "Can you hear it? Talk to me, Steve." You reach your hands up, sliding slowly up his chest to rest your hands by his jaw in a soothing touch. But for Steve in the Creel House, the vines have found him, slithering up his chest and around his neck, tighter and tighter against the wall. He tenses, big hands coming up and grabbing your wrists with a grip so tight you whimper. "No, shit, shit, shit! Fuck! STOP! NO! I CAN'T!" he panics, gasping for breath while his nails dig into your forearms and drag painfully downward why he tries to pull you away. "Ow, ow baby, hey, you're hurting me," you yelp out. He doesn't stop, eyes switching from tightly closed to open and unfocused while he reaches up to your biceps, clawing at them in defense. You reach out a final time. "Honey, honey, please, it's me," you say, tears balancing on your lower lashes while he rises, taking you with him. He handles you real rough, grabbing you by the shoulders and throwing you to the ground with a loud thud. And god does it hurt.

"HEY!" Eddie's voice booms out, gruff and loud like the rumbles of thunder outside. He gets behind Steve, pulling his arms close to his chest while Steve struggles against him. Erica and Mike hurry toward you to help you slowly up off the floor. You reel at first, wanting to run back to him. "Stay in front of her Wheeler," Ed warns, "You all stay right there." You stand behind Mike with Erica who takes your hand tightly in hers. You feel the pulse of pain in your arms when you look down -- gouges and deep scrapes, the blood shines in the line of the kitchen. You shake your head out of it and watch on as Eddie and Dustin do what they can to help -- the song continues to play in the background. "No, no," Steve whimpers, twisting his wrists in Eddie's grasp to break free, but in this state Eddie is stronger. He pulls him close, Steve back to his chest while they sink back down against the cabinets. "Shh," Eddie soothes, still holding him tight, "We got you, just listen -- you're in my kitchen. You hear the song playing?" Steve grunts, thrashing while Eddie hugs him tighter to him. "Steve, listen, listen to the song," Dustin says, "Focus on me and Eddie's voice, listen." Steve struggles, less intense than before, "Shh, shh, it's okay Harrington," Eddie soothes, rocking him slowly back and forth. "They need me," Steve cries weakly, breaths slowing while he pulls again at Eddie's hold, "Gotta save 'em..." "Steve," Dustin says again, getting closer. He rubs his shoulder slowly, pressing his thumb into the joint, "We're safe, all the kids are safe." "Safe..." he repeats back. Eddie sighs a little in apprehensive relief, letting go of one wrist to run a hand over his head, turning Steve's face into his chest and holding him close. "That's right, Steve," Eddie says softly, "Safe." 'Saw the ghost of Elvis, on Union Avenue, Followed him up to the Gates of Graceland And they watched him walk right through...' Steve can hear the lyrics, warbled and tinny in the Upside Down. 'Safe, safe, safe.' Echoing through the walls -- it gets dimmer. 'Now security they did not see him, They just hovered round his tomb...' Dimmer and dimmer. 'Almost over buddy, I can tell, we're right here. You feel Henderson?' A soft warm rub on his shoulder, the lyrics to the song, Eddie's voice. The sound of vines fade away, he hears the rain, it fades to black. "Walkin' in Memphis..." Steve whispers, half confused, while his eyes open and focus -- squinting in the light of the kitchen. Overwhelmed he looks around while the room tilts on it's axis. He grips Eddie's leg tightly to steady himself, he's breaths picking up again. "It's okay buddy, it's just us," Eddie says again, "You with me?" Steve nods, face cracking while he lets out a broken sob. You can only watch while Eddie flicks his eyes up at you in another warning to not come closer yet. Dustin let's go while Eddie starts to hoist him up, wrapping Steve's arm around his shoulder while he helps him to the guest room down the hall. "C'mon big boy," he says gently, "Let's get you some rest."

Things feel a little quiet after Eddie comes back from the guest room, he's tense -- no longer having fun the way he was before. His eyes are dark while he heads outside into the rain to have a cigarette. Lucas turns off the stereo and The Party sits back down at the kitchen table for a moment to decompress. They silently take out of the Magic the Gathering cards and start to set up again, Erica joins them seamlessly. When things seems a semblance of stable, Nancy gets up and takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom, "Let's check you out, alright?"

You sit on the toilet seat cover while Nancy takes out a first aid kit from under the sink. You listen while she hums the climax of Whitney's 'I Have Nothing' quietly, searching the medicine cabinet for some Bactine for your cuts.

"Are you okay?" she asks, taking both of your hands to outstretch your arms, she turns them to see the damage -- she tries to hide her face of disappointment but it's clear.

"I'll be fine," you say softly while she wipes down the gouges and scrapes, "I can take care of it Nance."

"No, you just -- just let me," she says softly. The Bactine stings -- so does the way she looks at you -- pitifully. You hear Eddie's boots clomp down the hallway before he shows up at the door frame of the bathroom.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he asks -- you wish people would stop asking. They only ask when they see him lose control. You do this all the time, you take care of him all the time.

"I'm okay," you repeat, "A little banged up, but y'know. It's okay."

"Does he do that alot?" Eddie asks, his jaw clenching, "Does he hurt you a lot?"

"This is one of maybe...I don't know -- four times he's gotten physical with me during an episode," you explain, "And you all know about them."

"Does he hurt you when he's here?" Eddie asks, tapping at his temple.

"No, Ed, don't be ridiculous," you sigh, exasperated that he'd even ask.

"Steve's not like that, Eddie," Nancy says, "We've been over this." "Well, here's the thing Nance," he starts, tense, "We're ten years out of this shit and no matter how bad my shit got I've never put a hand on you like that. Ever." "Eddie --" "No, no, listen," he says, "I don't like that, and I especially don't like that happening in my house in front of my pregnant wife." "And what would you like me to do about it, Ed?" you snap, "I can't -- fuck -- I can't fucking fix him for you." "I'm not asking you to fix him," he says back, a pain deep in his chest coming through with his voice, "I'm asking you to be sure that you still want to be a part of this -- your wedding's what -- October? You really wanna be worrying about this?" "For better or for worse, right?" you ask back, choking on the lump in your throat, "That's the promise." Eddie tucks his lips in, his own eyes getting teary while he scans the gouges that Nancy carefully puts bandaids over. "Ice your hip and shoulder for the first couple days," he mutters, biting the edge of his them, "After a fall like that. Then heat." You nod, quietly murmuring a thank you. "S'what my mom used to do," he says under his breath. Eddie scans you slowly one more time, swallowing hard before pushing off the door frame and walking back down the hall. You hear their bedroom door click closed in the distance. "You know how he gets," Nancy says, "Stuff like that y'know -- that's hard for him." "I know." She takes a washcloth, running it under cold water before squeezing it out. Droplets fall on the fabric of her light purple maternity shirt, leaving dark people marks on the top of her belly. She hands it to you. "Here, for his head," she says softly, "In case he's not all the way back yet."

You creep slowly into the guest room, seeing him laying on his stomach with half his face buried in the pillow. His sculpted arms tucked under it to give him something to hold. "Baby?" you ask quietly, "You awake?" He nods with his eyes closed and you look him over -- big hulking man who needs to be held. He hates it but you can't help but love him for knowing he needs it. You put the wet face cloth on the side table, sliding down next to him while he moves over to his side. In one swift motion you've replaced the pillow -- arms wrapping tight around your waist and up your back, one hand molding over your shoulder. He hides his face in your neck and you can feel his tears on his lashes and cheeks. His shoulders shake while he cries for a while, cold sweat damp on his shirt and the back of his neck. You never check how long he cries for – as long as he does. “I’m here,” you say softly, nails grazing his scalp in a steady swipe, “I’m right here.” You adjust a bit in his hold and you feel his grip tighten slightly, a soft whine of desperation leaking from his throat. “Don’t go, please,” he begs softly. “M’not going anywhere big guy,” you soothe, “This wedding’s already put us ten grand in the hole. Where would I even go, now?” You hear a soft ‘tsss’ come out of him, a tug of a smile against the skin of your neck where he hides.

“Oh, is that funny?” you joke, still coasting your fingers through his hair. He groans, letting his arms let go of you so he can sit up, you can see the tension in his body still. Steve looks down at you with tear stained cheeks and tired eyes, beckoning you forward with his fingers. You sit up for your thank you kiss, his warm palm cupping your cheek while he holds you gently in place. He kisses once slowly, then twice, three times – holding the last so you know he means it. When you break away he rests his forehead against yours, offering a few shallow breaths. You stand up off the bed while he sits off the edge of it, standing between his thighs.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks softly. He asks after every episode ever since he did hurt you back when you first started dating. A swift smack to the arm that stung for a solid twenty minutes afterward with the amount of power he put into it. It welted. He cried for hours. He wrote you love letters every day for a week.

You nod, showing him the scratches and bandages on your arms, "I think you thought I was a vine or something. You threw me. Like, to the ground. It was pretty hard."

His lower lip quivers, "No, no, no." “No, Steve,” you assure, trying to calm him, “It’s okay, you didn’t know. It’s alright, I’m alright. It was an accident.”

His face contorts while the tears start again, his big hands reach out to your waist, pulling you close to him, "It's not okay, it's not alright."

His voice raises an octave while he cries, "I'm sorry, baby."

"It's okay, Stevie, shh," you whisper to him, he pulls you in tighter, body shaking while pressing his nose against your cheek.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he cries, sniffling, "You know I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't," you say back, your own cry getting caught in your throat. He sniffles again, leaning back to face you, both of his hands cupping your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing the apples.

"I love you," he says with a depth and intensity that makes the lump in your throat give way. You cry with him and it breaks his heart, "I love you so much honey, you know I’d never…"

You nod, trying to calm your cry the way he was able to calm his -- so used to swallowing it up even though you'd beg him not to.

"I – shit – I have to tell you something," he says softly, hands sliding from your cheeks back down to your waist and then your hips. He looks down at the small triangle of mattress between you and the apex of his thighs.

"What's up, Steve?" you ask, running your hands through his hair again soothingly, "What is it?"

He lifts his head up, eyes shutting at the comforting touch, but when he opens them he looks defeated -- guilty, "I haven't been taking my meds at night. I was -- was flushin’ them cause I just -- baby, I don't know. I can't keep depending on this shit."

"Steve."

"I know," he nods, "I know...That's why -- that's why my shit's getting worse."

"You're not just taking this stuff to take it," you say, cupping his cheeks, "It's to keep you here. It's to keep you with me."

"I know," he repeats, voice cracking again, "I'll call my shrink tomorrow I promise. I'll get back on track. Fuck -- I'm sorry -- and I'm -- I'm sorry I was so mean to you this morning."

"It's okay," you nod, pressing a kiss to his forehead. You drop your hands and rub his shoulder, "I think we should go home, alright? We can get on the couch for the night and just rest."

"Okay," he says quietly, nodding. He slowly gets up off the bed, a little dizzy, using you for support. You both slowly walk out of the bedroom, Nancy peeking around the end of the hall.

"Everything good?" she asks.

You smile at her, "Yeah, I think we're gonna head home."

She smiles tightly, heading into the kitchen where the rest of the group still sits, eating and talking. Their heads turn when you both come into view -- soft eyes and smiles.

"I'm okay, guys," Steve nods, barely able to meet their gazes, "It's fine."

Nancy approaches you with a few tupperwares filled with food and dessert, "We'll get the cooler back to you on Tuesday."

"Don't worry about it," you smile, gathering the tupperware in your arms. You watch as the group gets up one by one to give Steve a hug goodbye. Their movements are slow and controlled, warning touches on his shoulders beforehand to remind him ‘It’s just me, it’s just my arms, I’m hugging you’. Soft mumbled words of support, nothing too loud – don’t startle each other. Wraiths of the friendship they all shared earlier. Rehearsed reactions to all of their sensitive needs – if you’ve seen one episode, you’ve seen all of theirs. And you had, once or twice. “I’ll get a copy bound for you,” Erica says while she hugs him. “You make me so proud, Sinclair,” he smiles. Nancy walks you both to the door and you turn, “How’s Ed?” “He’ll call later,” she nods, a look behind her eyes that matches yours. You hug goodbye, share quick reminders about food for the baby shower and a few crafty decoration plans before heading to the car with a very tired Steve. The rain patters on the hood of the Lexus while you both sit in the leather interior, this time with you in the driver's seat. He rubs at his temples with his eyes closed while you rifle through your purse for a sandwich baggie of emergency migraine medicine. “Here,” you say, handing him the pill, “Before it starts to get bad.” “Hmm,” he grumbles in agreement, popping it in his dry mouth to suck it down. “We’ll be home soon, okay?” you say, hand coming down on his thigh reassuringly, “Just close your eyes for now.”

He takes the tupperwares when you get out of the car, fishing his keys out of his back pocket while he does. His strides are long while you hurry up behind him, following him into the house only to bump into his back while he’s stopped by the thermostat to turn on the air. “Sorry,” you say softly. “S’okay,” he replies back, barely above a whisper. He puts the food in the fridge while you head upstairs to start a shower, a ritual you’ve both come to learn well after days or nights like these. You take out the good soap, the shower oil, all the aroma therapy you can to get him to ease up. Anyone else watching you get things ready would assume it was about to be a very sexy time for you. On the same coin, these showers are probably the most intimate moments you have with each other. He comes in as the room starts to steam and you help him ease off his polo, you start on the buttons of your dress while he takes off his jeans and socks. He helps with your bra, both of you shedding your underwear at the same time before you step in. Steve soothes almost instantly, his muscles relaxing under the hot stream, sighing further while he gets soaped up. You don’t have to be in there with him, but you do. He needs you so close so he doesn’t float away. His favorite part comes near the end, sitting in the flow of the shower together while you wash his hair. His eyes flutter closed while your nails scratch and massage him – he swears his hair is even thicker than it was before with all the blood flow you encourage. You wash his hair twice, then deep condition, holding him to your chest while you wait the five minutes it takes to settle in. He leaves soft kisses on your collar bone, on all the marks he left on you in Nance and Eddie's kitchen. He holds your hand, so you can’t float away. You both end up on the couch afterward, the leather groaning beneath you both while you lay across the deep seat cushions, you lay on your back, he lays on his side against you. The heat of his bare chest warms you through your oversized sleep shirt. His soft sweat pants tangle up with your bare legs. You let whatever’s on TV play – reruns you guess, you’re thinking about too many other things. “How’s your head, baby?” you ask while his eyes shut, leaning on your shoulder. “S’fine, better,” he says, he lifts your hand and kisses your fingers before placing both his and your hand on your chest over your heart. The ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dum lulling him to sleep. You half watch TV for however long until your own eyelids get heavy. You click off the TV and opt to turn the stereo on low, just so he doesn’t get lost while he sleeps.

You wake up to oldies, music your parents would listen to on records in the living room growing up – songs that came out a few years before you were born. Oldies. It's dark outside but you can still hear the rain. Steve’s already awake, just watching you while his hand smooths back and forth over your sternum. “You snored,” he says. “Good,” you reply quietly. You both snort out breathy laughs, feeling the warmth of his lips as they smoosh against your cheek. “How you feeling?” he asks, hand coming up to rest on your cheek, sliding down the side of your neck. “A little banged up,” you say, “Might bruise.” “M’sorry,” he says again, a tinge of guilty pink tinging his ears. “It’s okay,” you repeat for what feels like the thousandth time in the past six hours. “You looked really pretty today,” Steve says gently, almost sheepish, “I should’ve told you.” “You looked really handsome,” you say back, “But you were kind of being an asshole so I didn’t want to tell you.” “You should’ve told me, it probably would’ve cured my PTSD,” he says seriously but sarcastically, “Could’ve saved the entire afternoon if you just said how good I looked. Prob’ly wouldn’t have had an episode.” “You’re such an ass,” you laugh, smiling. He leans in to kiss you and it’s the kind that makes you too weak to stand. That kiss got him a second date, it proved that they said about old King Steve in highschool. On the stereo, Sherry Baby bleeds into Unchained Melody.

His hand reaches up under your neck to tilt you up toward him, tasting your tongue with his, guiding you with his kiss, “Angel…” he murmurs. He breathes through his nose while he keeps his lips pressed to yours, desperate to stay here in this moment, attached to you. “Steve,” you say softly, breaking away, “Stevie…” “Please,” he whispers, nuzzling your nose slowly, “Please.” “Lemme take care of you.” “I…” your thoughts trail off while he kisses your neck, sucking and nibbling gently at the spot just by the hinge of your jaw. He waits for your soft sigh, the tilt of your hips towards him – your allowance. He grins when he hears the air pass your lips, the realignment of your spine beneath him while he settles between your squishy thighs. His hands travel south, pushing up the hem of your big t-shirt to your waist, holding you there for a moment while his kiss takes over your mouth again. He tugs your cotton panties down, breaking the kiss while he sits up on the couch to slide them off your ankles. Steve looks down at you with an expression that makes your breath catch in your chest, serious – with supple lips, needy eyes. He leads himself back down again, big hands sliding down the sides of your thighs over your hips to your waist again. Instinctively, your legs spring up to wrap around him while his hips align with yours, feeling his strained cock in his sweats against you. “Jesus…” he whispers again, eyes fluttering closed. He buries his face in your neck while you rock slowly against him, the pressure and friction against the underside of his erection sending low volts through his body. “Mm-mm,” he grunts, shaking his head ‘no’ while mumbling, “It’s supposed to be about you.” “Well stop dangling it in front of me then,” you giggle quietly, he giggles too. The smile sends you reeling, his pretty teeth, the way his nose scrunches. He leans forward again to kiss, he just can’t stop kissing, can’t stop tasting your lips, feeling you against him. Steve’s hand reaches down to pull himself out of his sweats, pushing the waistband to the tops of his thighs while he uses the other to push one thigh out off the couch. “You ready f’me?” he asks huskily, tip dragging slowly from the pool of slick at your opening up in between your folds. He lets his thumb run in slow circles over your clit while he waits for your answer, your slow nod while you lean your head back on the arm rest gives him the okay. He eases himself in slow, the tip pushing past your opening with some resistance. “Open up a lil’, honey,” he mumbles quietly while he guides the tip in again, “Open up for me.”

Your little gasps float out of you and into the fuzzy part of his brain, gliding down his spine. You angle your hips upward, one thigh up against the couch cushions and the other dangling over the edge, spread as wide as you can. He holds himself above you with one arm, the other aiding in pushing himself further in, the tip finally breaching your core. He keeps guiding, slow back and forths while you ease open for him – taking him in, inch by inch. “Oh yes, mhm,” he groans to himself softly, “Thass–hmm-that’s it, angel.” He let’s go when he’s three fourths in, crowding over you, forearms on each side of your head while he strokes slowly to start – getting you used to him, accommodating his size. “That’s good?” he breathes. “Ye-yeah,” you breathe back to him. His mouth latches to yours again, feeling him guide your hands up beside your head, lacing fingers while he presses you deeper into the couch cushions. He keeps his strokes slow and deliberate, feeling every ridge of you inside, how you suck him in and hug him tight in place – but how he feels isn’t nearly as important. It’s the way your brows contort, the way you bite your lip, your whines into his mouth while he kisses you. Each slow thrust makes you coat him in a new flow of slickness. “C’mere,” he says into your jawline, letting go of one hand to sneak behind you at the waist, pulling you flush to him. The new angle makes you let out a whine while he hits a spot deep inside you, he grunts at the reaction, the feeling of you taking him in. His pace picks up the smallest tick, face centimeters from yours – your noses brush, lips barely touching while his amber eyes keep steady on yours. You let out short huffs, little whimpers every time the head of his cock pushes deeper with every roll of your hips. “S’nice, hm?” he asks, brows slanting, softening. “Mhm,” you squeak back, “S-so good, honey.” Your legs pull in again, socked heels resting on the top of his butt while he sighs at the change in pressure. “Thassperfect, god,” he hisses out, head dropping down to your chest, pressing sloppy kisses above your breasts while he gathers himself. He groans into your neck while wet warmth tightens over him, soft velvet walls coaxing him closer and closer to the edge.

Steve’s shoulders flex while he balances on his forearms above you again, your forgotten hand taken by his, fingers interlocked. His face inches from yours while he looks at you, the way your eyes flutter, the soft parting of your lips, the high pitched ‘Uhn, uhn, uhn, uhn,’s coming out of them — you’re so beautiful.

“So pretty,” he says to you, huffing a breath into a smile, “So pretty, baby.”

You kiss him a thank you. You see him swallow when he breaks away, his eyes getting glassy.

“S’gonna be okay,” he assures, nodding down at you, nose to nose, “We’re gonna be okay.” Slow thrusts between statements.

“Gonna get married,” he says, a groan flowing right down into your mouth while he kisses you, “Gonna be just like Ed and Nance, right?”

You nod while his thrusts get more passionate, deeper.

“Yeah? That’s nice?” he asks, “Marry you? Take you just like this after the wedding?”

“Yeah,” you gasp back, “Yes, Stevie.”

“Give you a baby?” he asks in a low whisper into your skin, lips pressing against your cheek, his strong nose dragging against your cheek bone, “Give you so many babies. You want that?”

“I want that,” you nod, face pinching while you feel yourself building up and up in a slow churn.

“You want that?” he asks again, coming back to hover over you — tears in his eyes, “You want that with me?”

You nod to each other while he embraces you in an old movie kiss, wrapping himself around you, pressing him to his chest while his thrusts get purposeful, controlled.

“I love you,” he pants into your ear, “I’m yours, m’all yours.”

“I love you, too,” you rasp back, free’d fingers interlocking in his hair. He gets leverage on his knees, the leather of the couch squeaking under him while he repositions. Soft smacks of skin between you echo in the living room against the backdrop of the low stereo. “Oh my god, Steve,” you moan out, “You’re – oh god you’re so deep.” “So deep, angel, Christ–” he huffs, trying to make a mental note of this position so he can remember it for October – really make it stick. His thought process stifled when your nails drag down his back, making his passionate thrusts quicken – a signature cocky smirk flick across his lips. “Mmm, that feels good honey?” he asks – he knows the answer. Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, tears glazing over your eyes while he feels you pulse over him. Thank god the couch was leather. Watching you bathe in the afterglow of your orgasm he works you toward the second with ease, chasing his pleasure with each soaking thrust into you – so nice like this, so pliant – his little ragdoll. When he cums it’s deliberate, spilling inside you with your eyes on each other. You give one another breathless kisses, bodies interlocked, sticking to the couch in new found exhaustion. The phone rings. Neither of you get up to answer it. ‘BEEP. You’ve reached the Harrington residence – Did you forget my last name isn’t Harr– If you’re calling before October 1997 then it’s not just the Harrington residence yet but – whatever you know what I mean. Leave a message, we might call ya back.’

“Hey Harrington it’s Munson, um, just making sure you’re okay, man. Sorry I disappeared for a little bit there. Love you, call me back when you can. Bye.”

thanks for reading. <3

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