#willa replies <3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wambsgansshoelaces · 5 months

Text

Something Sweet; Chapter 7

Kendall Roy x Reader

a/n: I’m sorry I suddenly became so inconsistent lovies :( I promise I have so much in the works <3 as always, please let me know what’s on your mind in the replies + reblogs and enjoy x

Word Count: 3.421k

The next morning, you’ve convinced Kendall to go home and rest. At least, you’d thought you did, until he showed up at your front door.

“I told you to go home, Ken. Take a nap.”

“This is better,” he murmurs back, dragging you to bed and curling into you after pulling the covers over him. “I didn’t sleep at all, and Marcia wouldn’t let anyone go sit with Dad…”

You sigh, sitting up, and he readjusts, settling into your stomach. Your fingers comb through his hair in an attempt at being soothing. “Have you eaten at all? Since last night, this morning?” His breathing evens out. “Ken?”

You peer down. His eyes were shut, lips parted, the beginning of a snore falling from his lips.

જ⁀➴

As horrible as you’d felt doing it, you had to leave Kendall asleep in your bed with a kiss on the forehead. You’d made your way downstairs and unlocked the bakery’s front door and waited for Connor and Willa to arrive. In a lazy haze, you’d thrown the sweater of Kendall’s you’d clung to the night before. When the bell finally tinkled, you pasted a smile onto your face and waved the couple over. Surprisingly enough, you can see why they both work together well. Connor is loud, outspoken, and Willa balances him out with her quiet thoughtfulness. She flips through a catalog of desserts that you offer to cater, soft smile on her face while Connor rambles about how the flower vendors won’t respond to him about overseas work.

“Maybe just hire a Croatian vendor,” you suggest. “I’ve heard it’s cheaper anyway.” Willa hums approvingly at the thought, while Connor frowns.

“It needs to be perfect, though.”

“Who’s to say Croatia won’t be perfect?” Willa asks, continuing to look through the catalog. “I really don’t mind, Con. They’re only flowers, and as long as I have a bouquet I like…”

“We’ll talk about it later,” he says stiffly.

Desperate for a change of subject, you ask, “Anything catch your eye?”

Willa smiles up at you. “It all looks amazing.”

“Any favorite sweets? I’m sure I have them. And if I don’t, I’d be more than happy to write out a recipe.”

Willa flips back to a bookmarked page. “I love red velvet cake…”

At that, you get up and bring back a tray of sample cakes from your kitchen. “Try as much as you’d like! Do you happen to have inspiration photos for your cake? Just so I can start practicing.”

Excitedly, she pulls out her phone, and the two of you pore over her Pinterest boards. Connor doesn't involve himself in the conversation, seemingly dazed. She tries bits of all the cakes you’d baked for her, forcing her fiance to take bites with her.

“I don’t know how you do it, Miss, but you’ve made me like carrot cake.”

“You can call me Y/N, really. And I’m glad you enjoy it! That’s the goal. It’s your wedding- choose a cake that makes you happy.”

“I still think my favorite is red velvet,” Willa says, turning to eye Connor, who just nods. “And that one design I showed you… the three tiers? Can you do that?”

You jot down a description of the cake she’s talking about. “Of course I can. I’ll make a bunch of prototypes and have you come in and see them over the next few months. You can also just make a list of other desserts you want, and we’ll be good to go.”

“Oh, and don’t even worry about flying yourself out. We’ll cover all of that.

“You don’t need to-”

“No, no, we will,” Willa insists, nudging Connor.

“I’ll pay for your flight and hotel,” he says, snapping out of his trance. “It’s the least I can do. And I’m including Kendall in that.” He pauses. “Is he alright?”

“Sleeping,” you say carefully. “Why, what’s the matter?”

“I mean, I know you know. About Dad.”

“I was sorry to hear about it. Let me know if you ever need anything, okay?”

“We got into a massive fight, about me proposing. I don’t… I don’t know if he wants to see me.”

You chew at your lip. “He’s… not conscious, that I know of. I think it’s best you go see him, the doctor, your siblings.” You catch Willa’s eyes.

“I’ll make sure he goes,” she says. “Thank you. I’ll email over the menu?”

“Of course.” You clasp her hand in a loose shake, then Connor’s, in a much firmer one “Feel free to stop by whenever. You’re always welcome.”

They leave, and you make your way back upstairs, locking the bakery back up. You peer into your room, Kendall still sprawled out in your bed. You think he’s asleep until he calls out to you.

“Where’ve you been?” His eyes are still closed, head buried in his pillow. You go to sit by him.

“Connor’s consult.” Without opening his eyes, his arm reaches out to you, searching. You scoot closer, and he finds your waist, pulling you closer and settling his head into your stomach, just like this morning. “Come on, you should eat something.”

“Mm, I’m okay here.” The tension in his shoulders and back eases when your hand goes to sit in between his shoulder blades. You scratch gently, and he sighs. “Actually, do you have breakfast?”

“I made eggs, but I think they’re cold. I can reheat them, though. Or, I think there’s tarts in the fridge?”

“Tarts for breakfast?” he asks, pushing himself up and giving you a kiss.

“Why not? Life is short.” Sitting next to you now, he tugs on the fabric of your sweater.

“Thief,” he says, grinning.

“What? I was cold.”

“I like it. Looks good on you.” He kisses your neck before getting out of bed, tugging his shirt off and tossing it to you. “Keep that one, too. I’m going to take a shower. I think I was drooling.” You watch, not even suppressing your smile, as he makes his way into the bathroom. Regardless of how much he downplayed himself, the slight ripple of the muscles in his back made you giddy. “Quit staring.”

જ⁀➴

The next few days, Logan doesn’t get any better. To his dismay, Kendall has to get back to work. Roman and him had sat in a booth in your bakery as you worked, trying to figure out how things would run without Logan. The two seemed to be butting heads over who’d be CEO, but you didn’t want to hear it.

You’re working today, too. You figure that you should spend as much time in the bakery as possible before Croatia, just so you didn’t create any issues for yourself. Kendall texts you throughout the day, complaining about Roman or some douche kissing his ass. You zip the ‘K’ around on your necklace absentmindedly as you work.

You’re set to go to his apartment after you’re both off. You feel giddy, You realize, now, that this isn’t your usual giddy- butterflies aren’t terrorizing your insides, you don’t feel like you can’t breathe, you just feel happy, excited.

Once you finally do get off, Kendall’s already sent you a text.

Some associate brought a box of cinnamon rolls to try and kiss Dad’s ass. Looking at them reminded me of you.

You’re smiling stupidly to yourself as you read it, and another text comes in.

They were ass, though. Was thanking god I know you.

aw, you had shitty cinnamon rolls and thought of me? how sweet

Get your ass over here. Please.

i’m coming, asshole

I missed you, too.

You make the drive over, and by the time you’ve gone up to his door, he’s opened it and beckoning you inside. Kendall kisses your brow when you walk in, murmuring hello.

“Are you alright?” you ask softly, his arm coming around you naturally and pulling you close. He drags you to the couch, hoisting you into his lap and relaxing once he sits, your cheek pressed to his shoulder.

“Just need you right now.”

You give his chest an affectionate rub. “What’s going on?”

“Fucking chair battle. Nobody knows what to do or who to put where. Connor’s fighting tooth and nail for CEO, but that’s the only thing Roman and I fuckin’ agree on.” He sighs. “I don’t even know why he’s involving himself. He hasn’t come to see Dad since… you know.”

Your hand continues it’s journey back and forth across Kendall’s chest. “Do you know why he hasn’t gone? Willa said she’d get him to visit, but I guess not.”

“Dad doesn’t approve of Willa. At all. It’s… insane.” He stops your hand in its path, lacing your fingers together.

“He said something about that today. It sounds like he talked to your dad before he actually proposed.”

Kendall hums thoughtfully. “Shiv said she heard it from the yard when she stepped out before dinner for some work call.” He brings your clasped hands to his lips, brushing them against the tops of your knuckles. “It’s going to cause problems. It is causing problems.”

“Take a break, then.”

“Can’t. The press is on our asses. You know how fast that’d sell? Logan Roy, multi-billionaire, incapacitated, leaving Waystar Royco a mess! God, stocks would fucking collapse, the shareholders would step in, and everything goes wrong and we lose the company.”

“So, what’re you going to do?”

“Waystar needs to stay in my control, with Roman and Shiv. I don’t know how to keep Connor out of it.”

“This is going to make me sound like a bad person…,” you begin.

“Don’t stop there. You have my attention.”

“Well…” You look up at him. “Why don’t you just tell the media that you, Roman, Shiv are taking the reigns, Connor sitting out because of the wedding…”

His fingers twist a lock of your hair around themselves. “Evil genius,” he murmurs. “Don’t know why I didn’t think of it.” He litters kisses along your forehead. “Let me ring a journalist I know.”

He gets up, and after a short while, he’s back, grinning ear to ear. “Fucking ate it out of my hand. But enough of that. I have more than enough time to mull everything over in my head.”

You let out an airy laugh when his lips trail down your jaw and find the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. “Do you make french toast?” he asks into your collarbone.

“’Course I do. What kind of chef would I be if I didn’t?” You gently stroke the back of his hand with your thumb. “Want me to make you a slice?”

“What? No, you’re not moving an inch. Can you teach me?”

You grin up at him. “I thought you weren’t interested in the kitchen.”

“I mean, I’m not, but you bake for a living. I want to learn. It’s something you love, so I love it too.” Kendall can’t help the tiny smile that graces his handsome face.

“Tell you what. I’ll lay out the ingredients and walk you through it, okay?”

“Okay. Off you go.” He nudges you off the couch, grinning now. Happily, you oblige.

Since you’ve been together, you’ve brought him any extras from shipments of ingredients for the bakery. Now, his pantry and fridge were consistently stocked- he also made sure to call you any time he went grocery shopping. He had no clue what he was doing.

“Do you have any maple syrup?” you ask, peering in the pantry.

“What would I need maple syrup for?”

“French toast.” You can practically hear him roll his eyes. “Fine. You’ll just use cinnamon. Come here, Ken.”

You sit up on the counter, watching him as he comes over to you and gives you a peck on the lips.

“French toast is easy. Eggs, vanilla extract, and whole milk in a bowl. Salt and cinnamon, then dip the bread into the bowl. Fry the bread and caramelize brown sugar on top. Easy peasy.”

He scoffs. “I’ll light myself on fire.”

You turn him around and gently push him towards his work space. “Get to it. Chop, chop.”

He choppily follows your directions, asking questions as he goes. When the bread fries, it makes a few scary sounds, but in the end, nothing’s burnt. He hesitantly brings you the plate when he’s finished.

“They look good!”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” He makes a face at you, setting the dish by your side. “Try a bit?”

You break a piece of toast off and pop it into your mouth. It’s flavorful, buttery, sweet. It’s certainly not the best thing you’ve ever had, but it’s good.

“I’m proud of you, Kendall.”

He smiles up at you, bracing himself against the counter, his arms on either side of you. “Really?”

“Really.” You kiss his head. “You did great.”

He takes a bite from the same piece. “I still like yours better,” he mutters after he swallows.

“Well, that’s going to be the case for every dessert you come across that isn’t mine.”

Kendall gives your cheek a peck. “Egotistical asshat.”

You laugh. “Sounds like you, not me.”

You squeal when he hoists you off the counter, exits the kitchen with you in his arms, and tosses you back onto the couch. You lose your breath laughing, burying your face in one of the cushions. He settles in next to you, swatting your legs away from him. “Fuckin’ deserved.”

You spend a few hours just talking. You feel so at home with Kendall, like you don’t even need to try and everything will just work out anyway. He’s much looser with you than he was when you’d first met. He had no problem touching you, kissing you, making eye contact. And thankfully, you hadn’t seen him high since when he’d taken you to Logan to see if he’d hire you.

“Do you know what you’re going to wear to the wedding yet?” he asks nonchalantly.

“No clue. You still want to do the matching thing?”

“Of course I do. It’d be cute.”

“I’ve never heard you describe anything as cute before. Are you feeling okay? Hit your head?” you ask, teasing.

He ignores you. “I’m going to go see Dad. Do you want to come?”

“I don’t want to intrude-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up. You’re so kind and soft you couldn’t intrude even if you were criminally trespassing.” You laugh as he pulls you to your feet. “You can stay in the lobby, if you’d like. Nobody would mind if you came up with me, though. It’s probably only going to be me and Marcia, anyway.”

“I’ll drive,” you murmur, fishing your keys from your bag.

Kendall doesn’t complain.

He stares out the window as you go, the city lights passing by in a hazy blur. He grips your hand the entire ride there. “Feeling nervous?” you ask quietly

“A bit,” he whispers back. “I’m… I’m worried he won’t wake up.”

“Don’t worry, Ken.” You give his hand a squeeze. “He will.”

You don’t really know if what you’re saying is true.

When you arrive, the receptionist waves you both off, seemingly already familiar with Kendall. Your heart aches for him. You know his relationship with his father is complicated, which makes this entire process even more difficult.

You let him go in by himself to sit by his father.

You sit outside, practically on your own, but you don’t mind. You know he needs the time to sort through his thoughts. Marcia sits by you, eyes soft, but inspecting.

“You bring out the good parts of Kendall,” she says bluntly, after a long period of silence. “There’s been no breakdowns or issues since you.”

You’re not exactly sure what that’s supposed to mean, but you’re fairly sure it’s positive. “I’m glad.”

She gives you a soft smile before making her way to her husband’s side. Now you’re truly by yourself. In your head, you’re organizing Connor’s wedding menu. Despite the such short notice, it was coming together nicely. You’re even going to print everything out on pretty stationary to put out at the dinner tables.

Eventually, Kendall comes out to sit by you. His eyes seem a bit more sunken, his mood duller. Wordlessly, you take his hand.

Neither of you say anything. He brings your hand to his free one, and now your palm is sandwiched between both of his. His grip is tight, and you see his knuckles whitening. You use your other hand to gently rub your thumb over his knuckles.

While all your silences were comfortable, this one was strained, as if something was hanging tersely in between the two of you. You feel it’s a product of his sour mood. You’re not sure what he saw when he went to his father, but you’re assuming it’s not good.

The silence stretches on- you don’t want to speak before he doesn’t want to. It ends when a nurse gets his attention, Marcia trailing behind her. She tells Kendall she just would like to brief them both on some things concerning his father’s potential diagnosis.

He turns to you. “Could you stay with him? Please? Just in case something happens.”

“That would be very appreciated if you could,” Marcia adds.

You agree, assuring him you’ll cause a scene if any single viral falls below normal. You go into Logan’s room and sit in a chair by the window. Close enough to interfere if needed, and far enough away for it to not be weird.

You awkwardly sit there for a while, not really sure where to look. You keep an eye on his vitals, his heart rate steady and blood pressure seemingly normal.

You scroll absentmindedly on your phone, only half focused, ‘just in case’, like Kendall said.

Logan shifts a bit. You don’t know much about comas, so you don’t really know what to think. You decide it’s too trivial to bother someone with right now. You’ll just tell Kendall when he gets back.

You’re scrolling through a few different mood board Willa has sent you when it happened.

“What the fuck?” Logan’s voice is rough, raspy. It has a grainy quality to it, like it’s clogged.

“Oh! Mr. Roy- let me get someone,” you say quickly.

“No, no. Sit down. Fuck.” He surprisingly manages to sit up, struggling, but sitting up. “Jesus Christ. Don’t get anyone yet. I don’t want to fucking hear it.”

You keep your mouth shut and your ass in your chair.

“You and Kendall serious enough that you come to visit his old man?”

“He’s just with the nurse right now,” you manage. “He’s coming back.”

He waves his hand, as if dismissing you. “Whatever. Is Connor still doing it? Marrying that… that girl?”

“If you mean Willa, then yes.”

“Fuck off.” He wipes a hand over his face. “Haven’t even been awake ten minutes and shit’s hit the fan.”

Thankfully, you’re saved by Marcia and Kendall rushing back into the room. You take this as your chance to make an exit and you retake your seat outside of the hospital room.

Kendall takes you back to his apartment ages later, a large weight seemingly lifted off of his shoulders. His mood has been lifted, but you notice his glum mood was replaced by a discreet tension across his muscles.

“I told you everything would be okay,” you tell him. You’re both laying in bed, his arm wound tightly around you.

“Thank you. For everything,” he murmurs back.

The next morning, you both have a few hours to spend before getting to work. After a shower, you have to help him with the clasp of his necklace.

“Can’t fucking get it,” is all he tells you when he hands you the chain. Smiling to yourself, you fasten in around his neck, liking the way the initials sit on the fabric of his shirt. You smooth your palms over his shoulders once you’re done.

While you’re slipping on your shoes to go home, Kendall’s phone rings. He drifts away from you to speak to whoever it is on the other end. You don’t mind, waiting for him by the door. When he comes back, he’s harried. He traces the line of your jaw with his palm, cupping it once he hits its end, and gives you a long, needy kiss.

“I can’t take you back, I’m sorry,” he says, voice tense. “I’ll come by later, okay?”

You press another lighter kiss to his lips. “It’s alright. I’ll save you a cookie.”

He kisses you one last time on the head before hurrying away.

#kendall roy x reader #kendall roy x you #kendall roy #succession #succession hbo #succession fic #wambsgansshoelaces #succession x reader #something sweet

47 notes · View notes

interpolanticssuperfan · 9 months

Text

nothing natural | ken x fem!reader | part 4 | 18+ only

hey everyone!!!! thanks so much for your patience in my getting out this next chapter, ive been incredibly busy with life stuff and finishing a different fic of mine on ao3. (if you're a fight club fan, i'm @snottys on there. LOL) thank you for the kind words and the messages, they mean SO much to me. i hope this chapter is alright, and i can promise some mounting sexual tension in the next one; im just hoping to build up successfully to it so it feels organic and fun. i love you all and thanks for reading <3

tags: @heyareyoulistening @itsametaphorbriansblog @alyeria

The tight snap of the glass sliding door jilted you, and you should’ve guessed that Ken wouldn’t leave you alone, even if it meant deliberately ignoring your request for some space. With a heaving sigh, you studied your hands, the lines of your knuckles to try and see if your skin could explain what was wrong with you. What could possibly be wrong with you.

Inward thoughts tapering off, you couldn’t ignore the way Ken’s presence was making you feel, searing butterflies in your stomach, which made your shame even more complex and frustrating. To be pinned by his gaze, it made you feel important, uninhibited. Flittery and excited like a child. It was invigorating.

It was nothing but a bad idea. A dead end. Done and dusted before you should have ever let it begin.

A breeze rolled through your hair, welcoming and cooling. Ken’s atomic aura lingered behind you. He didn’t bound right up, didn’t affix himself to your side emphatically like he’d been doing all day.

With a puff and a flick, you heaved yourself away from the curled metal railing, not meeting Ken’s eye.

You hid your waning cigarette like you were about to get in trouble for it, as if you were back in school, ducking administrators under the bleachers, wrapped in thick lined coats with your friends. How simple things had been back then.

The mention of school brought back countless unsavory memories and left a bad taste in your mouth, flashes of arguments and self-doubt, so you ignored it in favor of waiting for Ken to speak.

Back then, you weren’t afraid to approach any boy you wanted. It didn’t matter if he was the head of the football team or a shrinking, shy kid in the back of the study hall. Where this fearless bravado originated from, you couldn’t necessarily identify. All you knew was that it had eluded you into adulthood.

You reveled at how much you’ve changed since graduation.

“Willa’s in her green bed-thing,” Ken murmured a decent ways behind you, and you felt instant appreciation for him. After being such a freak and making a fool of yourself, he only kept choosing to help you, looking out for your belongings, the things you cared about. He had no reason to do them for you, but at this point, you didn’t want to question him.

“Thank you, Ken. You didn't have to do that.” You replied softly, picking at a fingernail absentmindedly.

“She got pretty antsy when you left. Ran in circles. Don't worry, (Y/N); once she gets to know me a little better, she’ll trust me in no time. What does she eat?”

Ken finally appeared at your elbow, voice still gentle, taking in the hanging potted plants, the other identical slim patios of your neighbors that lined the lower units. He seemed nervous to get too close, so he laid his hands down on the railing, blinking rapidly when the sun peeked out from the clouds and shone directly on him like he wasn't used to its intensity.

If you weren’t walking on eggshells, unable to trust yourself to talk with him normally, you might’ve tipped a warm, toothy smile up at him, allowed yourself to just… enjoy his presence. Express thankfulness for the change to your humdrum everyday life.

“Lettuce. Different kinds of vegetables. Um… these special pellets I have to order online that take weeks to get here.” And that cost double what they should… the things you do for Willa. If only you could tell her ‘you're welcome.’

“Can you show me how you feed her? When we go back inside?” So hopeful. So unaware. Ken’s request sent shockwaves of emotion through your body. Your heart couldn’t help but do cartwheels over his sweet comments, the uncomplicated way he interacted with you.

“I don't know what to do.”

Ken paused, cocked his head as he furrowed his brow at you. He'd buttoned his jacket back up and taken his boots off. Just standing out here in the real world like he wasn't worried about what would happen to him.

A vein worked in Ken’s throat when he swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, gilding the beautiful slope of his neck, and you had to tear your eyes away from him, the sweat on your chest collecting rapidly. Too tight, too sweet, too painful to look at.

Of course he buttoned his jacket up, you scolded yourself. What else was he supposed to do after you humiliated him like that, reduced him to nothing but his looks? If he’d done the same to you, you’d have probably kicked him out.

(Or not.)

“Sure you do. You feed her every day, don't you? Actually, you should let me do it, that way we can build a rapport and –”

Exhaling through your nostrils, you took another long drag from your cigarette, and shook your head, still unable to meet Ken’s pleading eyes as the smoke tendril crept upwards and billowed away.

It didn't bring you enjoyment to cut him off before he could lose himself on a tangent, but the day’s events had left you no choice; and you had to own up to your behavior, your unwarranted comments that Ken didn't even register as irresponsible.

“That's not what I meant. I know how to feed Willa. This has been a very, very long and… strange day. And it's only three in the afternoon.”

“I wasn't keeping track of the time.” Ken offered kindly.

“I wasn't expecting you to.”

“That smells bad,” Ken upturned his nose at the cigarette as the cloud dissipated over his face, shifting his body away from the direction the smoke carried. “I saw people with those in Venice Beach, but they walked so fast that I didn't get a proper whiff, you know? I'm telling you, everyone in Venice Beach acts like they're late for something.”

“That sounds more like New York to me.” A sneer formed on your face, which Ken noticed immediately.

“They have those smoke sticks in New York, too?” He questioned innocently, side stepping every wave of tobacco residue that fanned out into the air, engaged in a bizarre dance of bob and weave.

“They have these everywhere.” You counter, lifting your eyebrows curiously.

Ken scowls. “Yuck. What are they for?”

You mulled over an explanation in your mind, a little grateful to be addressing anything besides your brazenly lustful comment that Ken seemed to have entirely forgotten about. That Ken had glossed right over, not even batting a significant (irresistible) eyelash at.

“When you breathe them in, it makes your head feel light for a few seconds. It's a pleasant feeling. But over time, they hurt your body and… essentially poison you.” Is this how you'd explain smoking to a child? It would have to do; you were no teacher, no professional, regardless of how hungrily Ken searched your eyes for answers and succinct explanations on everything.

This information horrifies Ken, who makes to grab the burning cigarette right out of your hand. Pinching it between his fingers like hazardous waste, he flings it as far as he possibly can off the balcony with a grunt of exertion, and you both watch it spin gymnastically before landing a very long distance on a far sidewalk, ashes snowing and dying on the ground.

It's impossible to delay meeting his gaze after that, so you look right up into his eyes, and Ken thaws under your attention, pupils still raging and wild and heavenly cerulean blue.

Good arm, you think to yourself moments before breaking into a grin.

“Sorry (Y/N), but that was for your own good. I can't possibly let you do something that's going to poison you. Not on my watch.” Smug, and a little bewildered, the smile that Ken gives you is flustered and determined.

“You're not even wearing a watch.”

“You don't know that.” Ken lulls, peeking at the sky, trying fastidiously to appear unbothered.

“I'm quite literally looking at both of your wrists.”

“Oh, (Y/N). You bemuse me. You see, a prepared man doesn't need to rely on worldly inventions such as watches. And numbers. He only needs his intuitions. Of which I have so many.” Ken taps intermittently at his temples, still avoiding your direct gaze. Calm and collected. Or, his best imitation of someone relaxed. And educated.

Had anyone else done this, especially on a frustrating and confusing day like today, you’d have probably kneed them in the groin. Maybe hurl a few expletives. Because where would you get off snatching a smoke straight out of someone’s hand? That you'd spent your own money on?

But all you could manage to do was laugh, fold over forwards a little bit with it, and the sound of it eased Ken’s nerves, eventually joining in with you to test the temperature of the conversation.

“So… are you done being mad at me now?” He scrubbed at the back of his neck.

“I was never mad at you, Ken. I just needed some air, I needed to… clear my head. I really meant it when I said you didn’t do anything wrong.” He leaned over the railing a bit, tapping his foot against the welcome mat you’d placed outside.

“What I said wasn’t – well, it wasn’t nice, and I realized that I haven’t been handling this situation appropriately. That’s what made me feel upset. I was mad at myself.” Confessing this had you feeling twenty pounds lighter.

“But it made me feel nice,” Ken affirmed, and you had to soldier yourself mentally not to grab him by the shoulders and kiss him or something equally as unwise. “I liked it. Is that so bad?”

In your peripheral you could make out the lines of his flawless blonde hair falling into his eyes as he watched the grass below, the bright orange “For Rent” sign, the pomeranian sunbathing on the second floor end unit. He seemed to be taken with every new sight that he laid his eyes on. So eager to learn, eager to please you, to help release your nerves.

You considered that you didn't deserve even an ounce of it. His newness. His charisma, the spark in his eyes when you smiled at him. Any of it, there was no reason it should be directed towards you.

Sobered, you attempted with great willpower not to let this falter your resolve. The best way to handle this was with honesty, and you knew that lying to Ken would only further complicate your already complicated friendship that had been forged only a handful of hours earlier.

“To be fair, it usually feels nice to be complimented.”

“And that’s something friends do for each other – they say nice things about the people they like. So I think you should stop being so mad.” Ken sustained, lightly biting at his plush bottom lip, swelling under the tension, the exactitude of his discomfort manifesting.

“Listen. Ken,” you dug your nails into the back of your hand, at the susceptible skin there, leaving imprints as you tried to assert yourself. If Ken noticed the tremble in your exhale as you slowly blinked, he didn’t point it out.

“I’m going to be forthcoming with you, because you seem like someone who… I don’t know. Deserves it. You’re funny, you’re. Fascinating. You’re easy on the eyes, I mean, you're. You’re.”

Ken flushes a deep shade of pink at your words, speechless, the spread of it so clear and unbidden on his lower neck that you have to nearly kick yourself not to look. He's got no idea how to answer you. When Ken finally receives the attention he angles for, it seems that he doesn’t know what to do with it. Stands and sways and stares, waits for the next beat because he isn’t sure of what comes after this, what could possibly be waiting for him on the other side of affection, the words that make him bow his head and drop his listless eyes.

You’re a solid few feet away from Ken, but he smells like sunlight – smells like happiness. His eyelashes dance in the shadows the setting sun casts over him in streaks of oranges and deep reds, painting him like an immortalized work of art.

He glimmers like an angel. Something made from clay. It makes your stomach twist. For some reason you miss your little sister. You miss when your days had structure. When decisions weren’t hard to make, when they weren’t even your responsibility.

When you were only a child, and being alive didn’t sting.

When none of this was your job. It was only dusk and popsicles, running until your ankles scraped against your shoes so bad they bled. When it was just sidewalk chalk and trading cards and homemade dinner. Homework and awful bathroom haircuts. Long walks and skinned knees.

Not a single part of you had ever felt ready to be an adult, and it was hitting you outside on your balcony, washing over you in disconcerting waves that Ken couldn’t read, couldn’t make sense of.

“You don’t know me that well. And. We only just met today. You know? So, what I’m trying to say is, there’s a lot you don’t know about me, about… what I’ve been through and. What I’m looking for. Out of life, out of. Relationships, friends, things like that. What I want to become. And until this morning, I hadn’t really been that inspired to evaluate any of it. My days are essentially just this, every week over and over, exactly like you’ve seen. I work at the library. I say hi to Pat. I rent a magazine that I forget about and then return without even having picked it up or read it, like some loser. I feed my guinea pig. I smoke and then sit out here, watch my neighbors. It’s just.”

Your throat feels constricted, fighting against twangs of distressed emotion that bubble up and cradle within you, threatening to release at any moment. Threaten to betray you. You’re reticent to accept that any display of weakness could turn Ken off.

Could have him turning tail and going back to… wherever it was he said he came from. Barbieland? Jesus, what a day.

Since when had you become such a sap? So ready to let it all out over the smallest event, something as mundane as meeting someone who expressed interest in you?

Ken wasn’t just someone, you scolded yourself. Wasn’t just some guy you’d bump into at a bar, someone you’d match with on a dating app or strut up to at a baseball game drunkenly and emboldened with false courage. He couldn’t fit into a box of superlatives. Refused to be defined so easily.

He didn’t even have a heartbeat.

It’s too much out here, and you want to cry. Want so desperately to cry. To let it out, to experience the way you’d feel in front of someone who would never judge you for it. Who probably doesn’t even know what crying or sorrow or regret or loneliness feels like.

But Ken stills himself and listens. Fiddles with his hands like he’s never been bored before and listens to every word, hangs on them like he’s getting something out of this, like he needs to listen to a human being speak about what it feels like to be a human being. Like this is valuable information to him.

He’s so beautiful and bright and burning like the sun and he listens to all of it.

“It would be the easy thing to just keep you here. I know you have no idea what I’m talking about. I’m sorry about that. It would be so easy to. Accept this, accept you and. Not even question it. I mean, Jesus. You came out of nowhere. Introduced yourself to me. Not afraid of anything. You didn’t even know who I was, not really. And the easy thing would be for me to take you – take it. Not even. Not even worrying about what it said about me to do that.”

Your throat is rubbed raw, the honest and vulnerable tears tugging at your eyes, but you can’t do that right now. Don't want to turn over and show your dark, clingy underbelly to Ken when he's only just met you and only thinks shining, sweet things about you, like you could never be capable of letting him down.

Not when it matters, when someone is pegging you as their lifeline, their sole source of connecting themselves to humanity.

Ken just squeezes his pink, worry-chewed lips into a thin line and continues to listen. He has nowhere else to be. Why would he? He’s pale and shining and gorgeous.

Swells of his arms filling with the afternoon sun. There’s nowhere else he wants to be but right here, barefoot and open and accepting of what you need to get off your chest, like there’s the perfect space right in his heart to fit it all in, to understand it even if he’s struggling to get what you mean.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I think that there’s. I think there’s something about you that makes me want to be careless. And that’s not like me, at least not right now.”

“But I don’t feel careless when I’m with you.” Ken states, like it’s easy, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Something breaks deep inside you, it's thick and presumptuous, and you feel pressure thickening in the base of your gut, like you might puke or scream or maybe a combination of both.

“I’ve been careless of you. You might not realize it, but. I have been. It’s not cool. I don’t feel that I’m doing the right thing.”

“Well. What can we do that will make this better?” The question that’s been dancing on his lips, that’s been tearing him asunder finally comes to light.

You wring your hands in front of you, already craving another cigarette, craving liquor, craving an out from this. The urge to scrape something sharp against the meat of your arm comes to you. You ignore it. Swallowing down the urge to punish yourself.

It’ll be alright. Just approach this logically. Do the right thing.

Do the right thing.

And don’t mess it up.

“I think I would feel better if you went back to where you came from.”

The words smolder between the two of you, more fiery and loaded than you intended, and Ken bristles at your words. Expecting rejection. Waiting for a slap to the face.

"You want me to leave?"

“Hold on. Not like that, I mean. I think I would feel better if you went back to… you know.”

“Barbieland.” Ken states, and it’s too small, it’s puny. It’s not how you want him to sound. So beaten down and insecure.

“Right. And I think you should really consider whether or not you want this. Living in the real world. Because it’s tough, and. Ken, it’s difficult, it’ll rip you apart from the inside out. People are unpredictable. They can be loving and gentle, but… not every moment you spend here will be fun. Not every friend you make here will have your best interest at heart. They’ll take advantage of you and bleed you for what you’re worth. They’ll toss you around and spit you out and not think anything of it.”

The twirling light in his pupils dies out then, fizzles in a way that's tangible, like you could reach out and touch it to feel how real it is. Ken seems to not understand what you’re saying, but stares at you still, picking at the ends of his sleeves with great effort.

"Is it... you're sure it's not me? Because (Y/N), If I did something, I hope you know you can feel free to let me know. I won't get upset." It twinges at your insides. Makes you clench and tongue at the roof of your mouth. There isn't anything that gets past Ken, is there?

"No, that's. That's not it."

"Okay."

“I’m not saying I will do all of that to you.” You turn then to face him, waving your hand in general as if summarizing everything you'd just said, fighting the instinct to pull another cigarette out of your purse, to hide from what you’re feeling. The truth you need to communicate to him so real and regrettable and honest.

“I just want you to gather as much information as you can before you decide this for yourself. Your life. I don’t know what it was like for you before. Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe our world seems like a sanctuary compared to where you’re from. Maybe it seems like a hellhole.”

Ken doesn’t say anything, just watches your every move intensely, watches your back as it contracts and spreads out with anxiety. Working to pick the right words, the intricacies of what you wish you could articulate.

“But that’s how it is here. I think you should be aware of what you’re getting into. I don’t have all the answers and I need you to understand that. I’m not perfect. I’m not. Not… what you probably think I am. But if you speak with your friends, and others who can build on what I’m telling you, and after everything you still want to come back, I promise you will have a place here, I promise that you can stay with me and that. That I’ll do my very best to show you the ropes and show you everything I have learned.”

Ken appears deep in thought, tendering his hands fretfully, doesn’t speak for a moment. When the silence continues for minutes, you wonder if he’s given up entirely on speech.

But then he finally announces, with a measure of confidence you’ve never seen before, “Okay. I will accept this ultimatum, (Y/N). I will go back to Barbieland and ask all the Kens and Barbies what they know about the real world. And when I come back, I can even ask Barbie what she thinks. If she thinks I can do it.”

There’s a tepid, unsure quiver to Ken’s voice when he says this, stumbling over his words like they weren’t ready to come out, not yet. “But you should know something about me, too.”

“What’s that?” You reply, stomach churning with a wistfulness, an aching that isn’t familiar. Might not even be yours to feel.

“When I come back, I want to see you smile. I want you to show me your neighborhood. And what Willa eats. There’s no way I could forget about her. Do you accept my terms?” Somehow you get the impression that Ken isn’t talking about your guinea pig – not entirely, not all the way.

“Yes. I accept. I promise.”

“Promise?” Ken sticks his thin, golden hand out to clutch onto yours, and like it’s burial rites or heartfelt wedding ceremony vows or something precariously in between, and you reach your hand out right back and shake on it. It's real now. Set in stone. Something Ken won’t soon forget. Would never back down on.

"Yes, Ken. Yes."

When he leaves your apartment, you’re reeling, basically unable to look at Willa, the tiny living thing Ken’s connected with so deeply. She sniffs at the air like she's missing something. It hurts. Pathetically, you find it difficult to open your laptop and answer another email. To pretend to be sociable. Capable.

Ken doesn't ask for the address to your apartment, doesn't ask for your phone number, your last name or anything. He seems to believe that he can find his way back to you on instinct and willpower alone.

You think of Ken asking you about bananas of all things. Caring so much about your wellbeing that he threw away your cigarette. An otherwise complete stranger, so blisteringly entrancing that it makes you numb.

Dejectedly, you curl up on your couch, inhaling the smell of Ken so present and dominant in your apartment, that fresh smell, and you bite your fist with a sharp gasp. Shutting your eyes with extreme force, you fight the tears that spill unceremoniously down your tired, tired face, confused and spun around from the inside out.

#ken #ryan gosling #ken x reader #ken x female reader #ken barbie #barbie movie #female reader #ryan gosling ken

110 notes · View notes

inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 · 1 year

Text

MY DARKEST DESIRE (joffrey baratheon x dark! reader)

Joffrey Baratheon x yandere! Reader

2 of 3

TW: mentions of death and unhealthy behaviors.

Sorry if there are wording errors, I have translated it to google because English is not my first language.

You growled in frustration in the solitude of your room. It had been nearly two months since your last talk with Loras Tyrell and the chances of a public alliance with them had disappeared. Apparently, a wily Cersei Lannister noticed your interactions thanks to a traitorous prostitute of your father's and commented on your after-meal outings to Tywin Lannister, foolishly believing it to be a point in her favor.

The idiot ended up with an engagement to marry the uninterested Loras, an anxious Margaery and the death of Ros.

You swallowed quickly when you found out how she had died.

His cold words still echo in your head.

"That happens if you despise the Baelish."

As if you hadn't seen firsthand the beautiful, tragic body of your former ally, her frozen tears and expression of eternal horror. Vaguely, you stroked one of her red locks as she was taken away to be buried in a mass grave without any ceremony or anyone to mourn her. No, that's weakness. That happens to the weak ones.

The cunning ones always win.

You walked vaguely to untie the fancy hairstyle you wore today; it was better to concentrate on something else when those useless thoughts started. Noticing the yellow blanket adorning the wall, you thought of another element of the big plan.

Joffrey Baratheon, the bastard.

Growing up at court, you were introduced to him on his fifth name day. He was a wee lad who enjoyed beating other children with lower positions to complain about, throwing pieces of cake at his sister while she cried, and killing animals like birds with broken wings and baby rabbits with twigs. You came forward and recited the words your father had taught you. Joffrey gave you a bored look as you spoke and dragged you into his playground with the other children. You knew the rules, but watching him tear out that little red-haired boy's hair was enough for you. You stood up and knocked him down with a kick, he looked at you in surprise because no one laid a hand on him until now. Obviously, that would have given serious reprisals for your father and you, however, you lied saying it was the redhead himself and that Joffrey was confused because he hit his head, you did so well that they believed you. You were relieved until your progenitor told you how the poor boy was whipped and how his family was quietly removed from the court. You felt so bad that you told him, to your surprise, he was proud and even happy, he gave you a talk to better convince people and explained what to do if something similar happened with Joffrey.

You reviewed the events of this morning. From Cersei's hurried journey with her betrothed to Highgarden, Tyrion Lannister's appointment as Hand of the King by the Lannister lion himself, and Jaime Lannister's hasty wedding to Rosemund of Lannisport, you could rarely have a peaceful time when King Joffrey was around. His mother was gone, his father also to Casterly Rock, he was often controlled by his grandfather, and his only release was to torment the maids and his uncle Tyrion who rarely let himself be seen. Margaery told you of her fear that he would do you any harm, you replied that, despite being a maid, you were thorn-proof. Your relationship with her was going quite well: Olenna asked you about Joffrey's activities in her granddaughter's absence after finally convincing her of your loyalty; both women mentioned cautiously about a possible marriage with Willas, more adult and powerful than your former betrothed, but of a boring character according to your father's words, and questioned you about the personality of the second son, Tommen.

Everything seemed to be going well, but it was not. You knew what they were plotting and that annoyed you greatly, an assassination that would shake the house of the lion and strengthen the Tyrell power over the crown. That didn't bother you because it was to your advantage, however, you didn't want to see Joffrey being finished off by the Tyrells.

You wanted to kill King Joffrey with your own hands.

You let out a groan as you found yourself almost naked on your bed. The thought of Joffrey paralyzed on the floor brought another moan and the conviction to masturbate; imagining him with an expression of fear was enough to caress your clitoris; and the thought of his tears of horror and submission was enough to touch you harder.

You closed your eyes. Your hands going to his neck with no one around to stop you, him trying to push you away with his clumsy efforts, watching his neck redden, seeing drops of blood from the pressure exerted, unspoken words dominating his lips and finally his lifeless expression.

A moan of pleasure flooded your lips. But from afar it was not enough for tonight.

After your ninth orgasm, you thought vaguely about how his presence would be wrenched from you and how it would influence Baelish destiny. No, there was nothing you could do but obey and see how he would die for the relatives of your lever. Tiredness dominated your head, tucking you in with your blankets, there was only one coherent thought: Not obeying.

You watched the Iron Throne along with the others as King Joffrey displayed his cruelty. The Tyrells were visiting some chamber of a vassal house, loathsome enough to stray away for a few hours, while you stood near your father with the nobles gathered like shivering chickens in a henhouse, and both shared the same vision, but with different goals. : he sitting comfortably as king of the seven kingdoms and you, taking Joffrey by his cloak causing him wounds by the edge of the swords and dragging him like a dog with the sole purpose of seeing him suffocate by the pressure of his own cloak.

Both thoughts were not compatible and you knew that well.

The screams of pain did not distract you, but Tommen's gaze did, the poor boy was holding back tears from the monstrosities committed by his brother. He's too innocent for Westeros, too whiny to get used to violence when he's lived with Joffrey his whole life, and not at all cunning. Too weak.

Being with the Tyrells would do him good. Even if it's just a piece of the game.

You pursed your lip. You were not a player, that place is for your beloved father, you were just a valuable piece. That was good right? He has been for years and years, for your entire life. Why change? Father can be an excellent king; he just needs the necessary push. But the order of the pushes can change, right?

"I'm done for today." The king's proud voice brought you back to reality.

“My king, please…”

Seeing how the citizens were beaten calmed you down. Everything was running its course.

"Let's go, dear daughter." Your father pushed you away with his classic paternal man role, you smiled following his ruse.

"Stop there! Your king commands you."

They turned around confused.

“Lady Baelish, I have received word that you have cured my brother, Prince Tommen, of yellow fever with your healing knowledge along with the maester.” Joffrey's annoying voice grew closer; you could feel your father's machinations in his head. "Therefore, I invite you to hang out in the king's personal dining room, if I'm feeling generous I could offer you a medicine box for your woman skills."

Feeling the perfect opportunity to make your fantasies come true, the satisfaction of knowing the answer was greater.

"My beloved daughter accepts your offer, your grace."

"Well, it's a unique opportunity, she couldn't turn it down."

The blush on your cheeks only increased as did King Joffrey's shit-eating grin.

“I will show you my gratitude for all the goodwill you have had with me all this time…, your highness.”

The sinister shine of your eyes was not noticed by anyone.

@yandere-stan @yandere-daydreams @megsironthrone @letsasoiaftogether @missglaskin @witchthewriter @a-libra-writes @agent-whiskeys-sweetheart @ladywinterwitch @anxiousnerdwritings

238 notes · View notes

crescenthoax · 4 months

Text

a nightmare before Christmas • pt3

🎄or an Annika, Floris, Willa and targtowers Christmas tale🌟

Part one

Part two

Parth three

Summary: Aemond, Daeron, Aegon and Helaena had different things planned for Christmas, but one same fate: their father’s old cabin.

Basically an i’m never gonna love again christmas modern AU because we need to spread some joy on these times and I wanted to write something fun. Mainly centred around Aegon x Female OC.

This is part 3/3.

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

Floris looks at Annika, tucked under the sheets of Helaena's enormous bed, clinging to them as if they shield her from the outside world. “I can't believe you're not coming to the Christmas Eve dinner.”

“I feel sick,” she responds, keeping the blankets over her. “And my ankle hurts; I can't wear heels.”

“That's not a valid excuse,” Floris insists, sitting on the bed next to her friend. “Hey, everything okay?”

“Yes, of course. Just don't want to dine, that's all.”

“But we worked so hard to prepare this dinner!” Helaena protests.

Then Annika uncovers herself. Her nose is slightly red, and her eyes are a bit swollen, but she disguises it with tangled hair falling over her face. “You made sandwiches with potato chips.”

“I made three different kinds of sandwiches?” Hel replies as if it were obvious.

“Yes, ham and cheese, a questionable tomato at the back of the fridge, and probably expired pastrami.”

“Did something happen to you?” Helaena asks, a bit concerned and suspicious. “Did Aegon make you angry or something?”

She thinks for a moment. Unable to piece together the story in her mind after what he confessed. She feels betrayed, a bit lost, too distressed. Initially thought she would spend the rest of the days in bed until they could eventually leave, but there's another doubt gnawing at her.

“Did you know about my mom's illness before I found out?” She asks her friend. Not accusatory, Helaena understands that very well, but in a confused way.

Helaena sits on the bed next to Floris, furrowing her brow. “What are you talking about? I thought your mother –“

“Aegon knew,” she blurts out as an explanation. “Your mother told him, and he never told me. He always knew she was going to die and never told me.”

Floris and Helaena exchange a glance of sadness. Floris gently strokes her hair and sighs.

“It wasn't something Aegon had to tell you, I think,” she offers, very gently. “But where did that come from? Did he tell you?”

Annika nods.

“Why?”

“He was drunk,” she quickly lies. “And it turns out my mother told him not to come near me because he would hurt me. That's why he didn't want to be my escort for the debutante ball, I believe.”

“That doesn't sound like your mother,” Floris says, puzzled. “I mean... Aegon was always a mess, but she trusted him. She always wanted him to be your escort, practically from the day you were born.”

“Yeah, it doesn't make sense. Why would your mother say that? And why would Aegon tell you now?”

She smiles sadly. “I guess our rivalry got out of hand, and now he wanted to genuinely hurt me. I don't know.”

Helaena nods her head angrily and stands up. “Well, it doesn't make sense! And Aegon can't just tell you those things without giving an explanation. He's an adult, and it's time for him to face the consequences of his own actions. You're going to the dinner, looking more beautiful than ever, and we'll find out the rest of the story. I'm sure there's more.”

“How are we going to do that?” Floris asks. “If Aegon hasn't told her everything...”

“We'll make him tell. We'll find out what happened on the night of the debutante ball, this time, the truth. I know my brother; he can be a drunk and thoughtless, but he's anything but violent. What happened that night always felt off. We need to learn the truth so that we all get closure,” Helaena indicates, and Annika sighs. “If Aegon has a chance to redeem himself, I think he deserves it. But first, he'll have to suffer.”

Helaena walks to the closet and rummages through it while Annika covers herself with the sheets again.

“Oh! It's the perfect occasion for the red dress,” Floris says, shaking her above the sheets. “Come on! Make him suffer.”

“You guys are pimping me out,” Annika complains, her voice muffled and distorted as her face is covered by a pillow. Helaena and Floris grab her arms to unearth her from the pile of blankets and pillows. “I don't feel like wearing the red dress, especially not for eating stale sandwiches.”

Floris jumps up and leaves the room, while Annika settles back on the bed. After a few minutes in which Helaena still holds the red dress, also known as the best piece in Annika's wardrobe, Floris returns with Daeron, who has an unbuttoned shirt at the neck and trousers on. He isn’t ready for dinner yet.

“What's going on? I thought you couldn't climb stairs, what are you doing here?” Daeron asks, then looks at his sister, who shrugs, and Floris nods.

“He jumped up here,” Floris explains. “And now, she doesn't want to go to the Christmas dinner.”

“What are you talking about? How can you not go?” He asks confused. “Helaena gave Logan one of Aemond's suits, and we're getting dressed just for you. What's happening?”

“She's sad,” the word drags on Helaena's tongue playfully, and she shudders with embarrassment at hearing it.

“I'm not sad!” She despairs. “I'm tired.”

“You're never too tired for any event involving the red dress,” Daeron wonders, and sits on the side of the bed. “Hey, come on. I get that we all had very different plans on how to spend our Christmas, but we're here now, and that has to count for something, right?”

“But...”

“Commmmme on!” He insists, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. “It won't be fun if you don't attend. I'll make you a fancy invitation drawing if that's what it takes.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine. I'll go. But you're carrying me down the stairs.”

Daeron winks at her. “I'll be back in fifteen minutes.”

“So, we have work to do,” Floris says, grabbing her makeup case.

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

“It's not an optional dinner,” Aemond repeats, rubbing his temples. Aegon is sprawled on his bed, munching on a bag of Cheetos while watching old episodes of Keeping Up With The Kardashians. “Would you turn that off and pay attention? Helaena was very specific. You need to get dressed.”

“Why? We came here to relax and get away from our family. Sorry if the idea of dinner with them doesn't excite me again,” he says, taking another handful of Cheetos into his mouth. He laughs when Scott appears on the screen. “God, I love that guy.”

“You love that guy because he's just like you,” Aemond sighs. “What's the problem?”

“No problem. I've realized that I'm perfect, and it's everyone else around me who has issues,” he playfully grumbles while stretching on the bed and trying to push his brother out of his room. “Now, it's time for you to leave.”

Aemond takes Aegon's wrists and moves him aside. “Get your greasy Cheetos–fingers off my shirt. It's clean.”

The older brother looks at him for a few seconds and then lets out a sigh. He shrugs and gives him the typical look he always gives when letting him know he's ruined the fun, only for Aemond to drop his guard so he can embed his orange-stained hand in his brother's white shirt.

Aemond lets out something close to a feminine scream upon seeing Aegon's handprint. He smacks him on the head harder than intended. “That was my last ironed shirt!”

“It looks like you'll have to choose: wrinkles, Cheetos or dining naked,” Aegon smiles evilly, shaking his head to shake off the sensation of the hit and pretending that Aemond didn't almost grant him a one-way ticket to meet God for Christmas. “Now lose yourself.”

“Not coming to dinner is not an option,” his brother warns him. “Something's wrong. You're going to tell me what, or are you going to keep pretending you haven't downed a quarter of a bottle of wine?”

He doesn't want to say it. He doesn't want to let it out, but he doesn't know if it's the alcohol or that his brother's hit has rebooted his operating system and loosened his tongue because with an unusually casual tone and almost indifference, he blurts out, “I slept with Annika.”

And it actually comes out with a connotation that is not the one he intended. As if he doesn't care that he did it. As if he's avoiding it.

Then Aemond hits him again. Much softer, because this time, he didn't really hurt him, so he doesn't deserve it. But he does deserve the hit for being an idiot, of course.

“Have you gone crazy?” his brother asks, rubbing his temples. “How can you be so stupid? When was this, last night? Is that why Annika wanted to leave?”

“Huh? No, not really. We've been sleeping together for a while. First time around three years ago, and then whenever we feel like. This past months it got overwhelmingly serious. We’ve been seeing each other all around the world, like, illicit.”

“You? Sleeping with someone consistently for months? You, who won't even let our driver take you to see someone if the drive lasts more than 20 minutes? Flying from San Francisco to New York to sleep with Annika?” Aemond raises an eyebrow.

“Not that much,” he explains, contemplating the past few months for a brief moment. “Sometimes we flew to other states, sometimes to Europe. South America once, even. That's not important here.”

“I think that's exactly what's important here, Aegon.”

“It's not a big deal. We had a fight in the spring and didn't see each other after that. She didn't go home, neither did I, and obviously, we wanted to avoid each other so much that we both ended up stuck here,” Aegon explains, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “And now, she's here making all sorts of demands...”

“Well, of course, she'll make demands. She's been in love with you since we were kids,” his brother tells him.

Aegon rolls his eyes. “She's not in love with me.”

“And why do you think she flew around the world to see you? What, do you think you have a magical dick?”

“The sex is good,” Aegon quickly says and smiles. “I mean, it's really good. The best. And yes, my dick is usually irresistible.”

“Have you considered that you have good sex because you love her, and she loves you?”

“It's supposed to be you hitting me and telling me that out of all of Helaena's friends, Annika is off-limits, and we shouldn't have done that, and we messed up, and it's a bad idea, and we're going to ruin everything.”

Aemond blinks, amused. “I would say that if you weren't in love with her. Annika keeps you in line. You keep her humble. It works.”

“I can't spend the rest of my life hoping Annika will fix me,” Aegon grumbles. “And I don't love her. And even if I did, she doesn't want anything to do with me.”

“Why? What did you do?”

Aegon sighs. “I told her the truth. That her mother didn't want me near her, that we couldn't be together because she once told me it would hurt her if I, of all people, hurt her daughter.”

“That's twisted,” Aemond murmurs, suddenly getting serious.

“I know, so –“

“What's twisted is that you use her dead mother as an excuse not to be with her, Aegon. If you can't handle your feelings, face them yourself. You know how sensitive the holidays are for her. How could you say something like that to her?”

“Because I thought that way, she would understand that we can't be together.”

His brother hits him again, a bit harder than the second time.

“You're a pig.”

“I know.”

“And still, Freya loved you a lot,” Aemond adds. “As much of a disaster as you were, she wouldn't have entrusted Annika to anyone else. Screw Dalton Greyjoy; you should have gone with her to the debutante ball. That's what she would have wanted. You know that.”

“And why would she tell me otherwise?”

“She was trying to get you to find something that would make you not want to hurt yourself, perhaps?” Aemond suggests, a bit resentful in his tone. “Because it seems like the rest of us have never been worthy of you even trying.”

“Oh, don't give me that nonsense now. You know I try.”

“You planned an escape from our family. On Christmas

“And here you are with me. What's your point?”

“Do you know why I came?” Aemond questions, giving him a shove on the shoulders that leaves him sitting on the bed, somewhat dazed. The action isn't violent, just authoritative. “Because Mum asked me to make sure you didn't kill yourself on the snowy road. To make sure you didn't overdose, and we found your body weeks later. Mum doesn't know how you are in San Francisco. She doesn't even know why you're in San Francisco. No one knows what you're doing. So don't pretend we came here for me; we all know we came here for you.”

Aegon crosses his arms and avoids his brother's gaze. “You're tough”

“Yes, I am. And I'm right.”

“I'll find myself dead before admitting you're right.”

“Admit that I'm right, and I'll let you skip the dinner.”

Aegon stands up, reluctantly. “So, what are we having tonight?”

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

Aegon looks at the silver tray in the centre of the table. Helaena has truly gone the extra mile to make the enormous table look like it's out of a tale, with a white tablecloth, decorations, candles, fine china, and matching glasses. One would expect that under the tray, there would be a turkey or any dish that matches the decoration.

But it's a tower of sandwiches.

There are other snacks and a couple of salads of questionable origin. But Helaena made them look beautiful.

“Well done, Hel,” Aegon says, putting an arm around his sister's shoulders while holding his glass with the other. He gives her a chaste kiss on the forehead. “It looks very nice.”

“You're drunk, aren't you?”

“I was. Now I’m just hangover,” Aegon says. He's wearing a dark green sweater and black pants, and he looks at Aemond with his white shirt, to which he tried to hide Aegon's Cheeto-stained fingerprints by putting on a tie, making him look ridiculous. “You look dishevelled. What do you think, Hel?”

Helaena has put on a silk blue dress that reaches mid-calf and has various figures embroidered in silver thread: suns, moons, stars, and various insects. It's something only she would wear, and she carries it so gracefully that it looks even more expensive than it is.

“Why are you wearing a dirty shirt?” she asks, disgusted.

“I didn't... You know what?” He tries to calm himself down, unable to be anything other than kind to his sister. “Forget it.”

“I can walk from here,” Annika tells Daeron, who holds her arm and insists on guiding her to the dining room. Floris holds her other arm. When they enter the dining room, the blonde smiles. “Wow. You really overdid it, Helaena.”

Aegon lets go of his sister when Annika sets her eyes on them and just takes a long sip, trying not to look at her directly as if she were Medusa.

“I chose the tablecloth,” Daeron proudly says.

Aemond elbows Aegon and crouches to whisper to him. “She's wearing the red dress. You're so screwed.”

“I'm not screwed. Shut up,” he complains, pushing him lightly. Aemond laughs and goes to sit at the head, right where their father always sits. Aegon looks at Annika for a moment, and just the sight of the golden waves of hair in contrast to the red dress makes him sigh. “I'm screwed.”

Aegon sits next to his brother. On his side are Willa and Daeron, and facing them, more by force and Helaena's order than by their own will, Annika sits. She has Floris on one side, Logan next to Floris, and Helaena on her side at the other end, right where their mother usually sits. They kept the table small to make it a bit more intimate.

Aegon doesn't thank her about that at all. Annika doesn't even register him, often talking to Floris and even exchanging a word with Aemond, but not with him.

“How's your ankle feeling?” Logan asks Annika. In the background, Helaena has put on terrible Christmas music that makes Aegon's head hurt, and everyone eats the sandwiches with a knife and fork to please her. Aegon thinks they look like lunatics.

“Oh, it's fine. It hurts a bit, but it's okay. A bit swollen. I don't think it's as bad as I thought.”

“You'll be walking normally before you know it.”

“Are you a doctor or something?” Florid asks, confused.

“I still have two more years to become one,” he explains. “I chose the internships in Aspen because my family is from here, and I've been away for a long time. But I attended college in Massachusetts.”

“Oh, lucky,” Annika winks at Helaena discreetly, and Aegon rolls his eyes. “My uncle is a doctor.”

“Of course. Lannister. I knew I recognized it from somewhere,” Logan snaps his fingers. “He's a master of cardiology.”

“I wanted to study medicine,” Daeron interjects, and everyone looks at him strangely. He stops chewing the chips he put in his mouth and swallows quickly. “What?”

“Since when? You hate blood. Aegon cut his finger once and you almost passed out,” Helaena laughs.

“Well, I never said I was going to do it, damn,” he sighs annoyed. “Besides, business is easier, and it guarantees more than anything else.”

“What about you, Willa? Are you in business too?” Helaena asks.

She smiles. “No, biochemistry.”

“And top of her class,” brags Daeron, putting an arm around her shoulders. Willa blushes slightly and shifts uncomfortably, with so many eyes on her. “She's fantastic. She has like, I don't know, five internship offers.”

“Oh, so you're smart-smart,” Floris tells her, fascinated at the possibility of having someone else to play chess with besides Aemond.

“Some might say. I consider myself diligent, nothing more,” Willa shrugs, the chiffon of the dropped sleeves of her pink dress moving gracefully.

Aegon takes a sip of wine, as bored as he can be whenever the conversation turns to study or life plans. He sprawls in the chair and discreetly stretches, trying not to make noise, when accidentally his foot hits Annika's, and she startles.

“Ouch!”

“It was an accident,” he quickly excuses himself, seeing that all attention turned to her complaint.

“Be careful next time,” she says, her voice cold and hard like the ice covering the pavement. She looks at her ankle with a wrinkled nose, and he shakes his head.

Aemond kicks him under the table to stop him from making an inappropriate comment, and the hit takes him by surprise too. “Ouch.”

“Do you think it's funny?” Annika asks, annoyed.

“God, no. It's not funny,” he sighs. He tries to restrain himself, but he can't. “It's hilarious.”

“Maybe we should move on to dessert,” Aemond insists, half trying to lighten the mood, half not wanting to eat the overdue pastrami sandwich. He's sure he got the worst one as punishment for Floris' incident.

“Oh, but there's no dessert, just an orange jelly that Willa made,” Helaena says. “There wasn't much we could do, and Annika burned the cookies, so...”

“I didn't burn them! You didn't tell me when to let you know to take them out of the oven!”

“Wait, no dessert?” Daeron asks, outraged. “What are we going to eat tomorrow?”

“The leftovers from Christmas Eve,” his sister responds plainly. He looks at the shredded sandwich on Aemond's plate, and he shudders.

“So... Bread crusts? No Christmas pancakes?”

“I'm sure tomorrow morning it will be viable to go out and get something decent to eat, and if not, we'll make an effort. My truck can probably handle most of the snowy road, and if the weather improves, they'll probably even make the Christmas parade, and we can watch it,” Logan says. “Worst case scenario, we'll eat cans of beans.”

“At least we have plenty of alcohol,” Aegon mutters. “Christmas is saved for me.”

“I can't believe it's Christmas, and there won't be any figgy pudding,” Daeron sounds disappointed.

“I thought you hated figgy pudding,” Floris tells him, puzzled.

“And I do. But it's tradition. Like gifts. We have no gifts. What are we going to do tomorrow morning?”

“You can always sleep until noon and miss Christmas morning,” Annika jokes. “I didn't think you were so traditional, Daeron. Certainly not to escape your family and come spend it only with your girlfriend on Christmas.”

“Let them screw in peace,” Aegon blurts out.

“You're rude. We're at the table,” Annika crosses her arms, as if the previous night hadn't seen her on the kitchen counter.

“We wanted peace and quiet, and we would have done all those things anyway. But now that we're all here... I don't know, it's weird. Because it doesn't feel like Christmas,” Daeron says. “Well, I don't think Christmas can feel like Christmas if I'm not trying to fall asleep in Annika's guest room because the party is boring.”

Everyone laughs.

“It’s not Christmas if Aegon doesn't pee on the tree and blame it on Sunfyre,” Aemond adds.

“It was only once!”

“And do you remember the Christmas when we locked ourselves in the basement to drink anise liquor, and your uncle Daemon found us, and we thought he was going to scold and accuse us, but he laughed at us because we were drunk on damn anise liquor?” Floris recalls, almost bursting into laughter at the memory of Helaena with her cheeks full of liquor, too scared to swallow the burning drink once her uncle found them.

“I didn't know about that,” Daeron complains.

“It was a long time ago. You were probably asleep in Annika's guest room,” Aemond recalls.

“When was it?”

“It was the first Christmas without my mom, I think,” Annika says, resting her chin on her hand, somewhat pensive, as if she had been lost in the memory. Floris puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes it.

“It was,” Aegon nods.

He could never forget that night. The three girls had gone to sleep as drunk as skunks in the middle of the party, and he had put Aemond to bed with Daeron. Being slightly older than the rest, he knew how to handle and disguise his drunkenness a little better than them. He had wanted to go out to smoke on the balcony of the second floor and had seen Annika walking briskly to what had been her mother's painting studio, locking herself in there. He sat silently against the door and listened to her sobbing the rest of the night, too conflicted to try knocking on the door.

He often wondered what would have happened if he had knocked on the door. If he had told her he was there with her, even if she didn't want to talk about it. Even if she just wanted to cry.

But it is no use to ask himself that.

“I know it wasn't the initial plan for anyone, but we're all here now, and I'm glad it turned out this way,” Helaena interjects. “I’m grateful, for all of you.”

“I am too, Hel,” Floris smiles and raises her glass. “I want to propose a toast, for this... Christmas disaster. Even though it's Christmas Eve, and we're eating sandwiches with probably expired cold cuts thousands of miles from home, I wouldn't want to be with other people on Earth.”

“For Hel's expired cold cut sandwiches and Willa's orange jelly,” surprisingly, Aemond says, raising his glass. Then he looks at Floris. “I'm grateful too, for all of you. Even the stranger over there.”

Helaena shakes her head, amused.

“And for Aegon's Cheeto-stained fingers on your shirt,” Daeron teases, to annoy him.

“And Annika's sprained ankle,” Logan adds.

“And may the Moschino fur boots rest in peace,” she sighs, also raising her glass.

Everyone stands up to clink their glasses together. The sound of glass clashing, and everyone's laughter vibrates through the room. For a second, everyone seems to forget the dilemmas, tribulations that brought them there, the deceptions, and old secrets. For a second, they are a family again, the family they have chosen. It doesn't matter that dinner is sandwiches and orange jelly.

And it works. For a second, it works. Until everyone sits back down, the joy still part of their faces, and Aegon takes the bottle of red wine while still standing. “Anyone want some?”

It's Annika who holds her glass toward him from her seat. He looks at her, glimpsing the neckline of her dress from his angle as he pours the wine. Her cheeks are flushed from the wine, and her green eyes are highlighted with feline eyeliner. Her lips are still shiny even after eating. Blood-coloured nails hold the glass, and she even has a defiant look. Her hair is in a low ponytail.

And the dress. He hates that dress. It's a ruby red shade that clings to her body, not in a vulgar way, from the beginning of her breasts to the hips, and it reaches her knees a bit looser. Shoulders and collarbones are evident, and it has two straps that fit on her arms. He has seen that dress several times. He has wanted to tear off that dress every time.

This time is no different.

“Aegon, the wine,” Annika warns him.

He snaps out of his stupor at her click. He takes the glass he has poured too much when the wine spills over his hands and even to the elbow, and drops fall on his mother's white tablecloth. He curses, almost embarrassed.

“Oh, shit,” he says, taking his napkin and trying to clean up the mess he made on the tablecloth. Daeron tries to stop him when he sees that he seems to be spreading the stains, and Aegon doesn't stop. Among the decorations, he knocks over Willa's water glass, splashing it on her skirt. She recoils startled at the cold. “Oops, shit. I'm sorry. Let me...”

“It’s okay,” Willa tells him, and Aegon tries to clean up the water that drips from the tablecloth to the floor when he knocks over a candle, and the tablecloth takes a moment to catch fire.

“Aegon!” Helaena scolds him, getting up from the chair quickly. “Do something!”

“Oh, shit. Oh,” Aegon panics and tries to blow out the flames that have engulfed more than half of the table, but it doesn't work.

Anxiety courses through him as everyone starts shouting for him to do something, so he takes off the sweater and tries to extinguish the flames.

The sweater catches fire too. Daeron forces him to let it go and burn with the rest of the things. Then, before anyone can react, Floris appears with a fire extinguisher from who knows where and manages to put out the flames.

A graveyard silence falls in the room. Annika clings to Floris' arm. Willa has a hand on her chest while Daeron covers his mouth in disbelief, and Logan has his hands on Helaena's shoulders.

The sound of Aemond's blinking clock is the only thing that can be heard. Then he clicks his tongue. “Merry Christmas, by the way.”

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

Everyone stayed to clean up after that fiasco. Even Annika, with her bad foot, forced herself to walk a bit and throw the remnants of the tablecloth ashes into the trash.

“Hey,” Annika calls to Helaena, when both are alone in the kitchen. She leans on the counter. “What's going on with you and Logan?”

“Why are you asking?” Hel questions, pretending not to care.

“Because you've been with him practically since he arrived, and I know you,” she accuses. “You've always been special when it comes to guys. But not with him. You like him”

“Maybe...”

“You love him.”

“Well...”

“You want to have sex, get married, have seven kids, and be a trophy wife with a veterinarian on a retreat farm,” Annika jokes. Helaena laughs. “I have to tell you; I always thought I would lose Floris before I lost you.”

“You're acting like I'm getting married tomorrow,” she rolls her eyes.

“Well, when you love, you love in a very special and deep way. I wouldn't be surprised.”

Hel grabs her hand. “You'll have that someday.”

“What do you mean?” Annika asks, confused.

“The conventional life. You know. Marriage, kids, love. You'll have that someday,” Helaena replies. She shifts uncomfortably. “You don't have to be always alone.”

And yet it seems like my fate. Always the wrong one, never the one. Always the “almost”. Always the nights and never the mornings.

“I know that,” Annika downplays. “But we're not talking about me. We're talking about you.”

“Well, speaking of you...”

Annika straightens up when Helaena turns around, muttering something unintelligible. Then she shows her the empty fire extinguisher.

“What do you want me to do with that?”

“Would you mind going to the service cabin to get the replacement?”

“The service cabin? Do you mean that horrible shed at the end of the garden where we once locked your father in for a whole night? That horrible shed?”

“Come on, you're not going to tell me it still scares you, right? Besides, they've fixed it. The floorboards no longer creak. Please, bring the other extinguisher to put this one in its place, and my parents will never know what we did here,” Helaena pleads. Annika rolls her eyes and takes it.

“Of course, I'm not afraid," she admits. "But why me?”

“Because everyone else has other tasks. And you yourself said your ankle felt better

She protests but fulfils her friend's request, unable to see any of the brothers in trouble for setting the table on fire. She throws a wool coat over her shoulders and walks outside through the kitchen door.

The service shed is located about fifty meters from the house, at the other end of the snow-covered yard. She makes the journey with a little difficulty, some snowflakes falling gently on her skin and melting instantly. Although the yard is turning into hardened snow, Aemond has cleared the path because he spent a large part of the afternoon making the round trip. The piled-up snow on the sides of the cobblestones betrays him.

She blows on her frozen hands as she moves her legs lightly to avoid losing warmth before putting her hand on the frozen handle, pulling with some force, opening the door with difficulty. The squeak is tremendous and almost feels like a bad omen.

It's a fairly large shed since it used to be the maid's quarters when they bought the house, but they never used it as such because it was never in a condition for anyone to sleep there. At least, as Helaena said, they had repaired the floor. She tries to turn on the light, but it's only a dim light that flickers tiredly. She hurriedly leaves the extinguisher aside and looks for the other with her eyes among the clutter of things. She stretches when she finally finds the device on a shelf, leaning all her weight on the uninjured ankle.

“What are you doing here?” Aegon's voice surprises her, and the extinguisher slips from her hands in shock, hitting the floor with a bang.

“Are you crazy? I could have gotten hurt,” she says annoyed, watching as it almost hits her healthy foot. Aegon carries a box of things with both hands and kicks the door closed to leave the box on a shelf. “What are you doing here?”

“I just asked you the same thing,” he says, sighing with effort when he finally puts the box on the shelf. “Who would have thought Helaena had a colonel's skills when it comes to cleaning. She even caught you; I see.”

She raises an eyebrow and chuckles. She heads for the exit without even saying a word, and Aegon growls again.

“Are you still angry?”

“Wonder what gave me away.”

“Besides the dress to make you look good, and you've ignored me all night...”

“I'm not ignoring you. I just have nothing to say to you, and you've made it clear that you don't either. We have nothing to talk about, Aegon.”

“We were friends before, Annika. We were friends before being...”

“Before being what? Your world-traveling booty call?” She cuts him off, with a hand on the latch. “You know what? I don't want to hear it.”

Aegon hurriedly puts a hand on the door and closes it when she tries to open it. “Wait.”

“I don't want to talk to you!” She yells, trying to open the door again. Aegon puts both hands on the wood and pushes outward while she pulls on the latch with all her weight. “Move!”

“Just listen to me for a second!”

“I don't want to hear you! Every time you say something, you hurt me even more!”

“And yet you think you and I would have worked?”

“Do stop bothering me!” Annika shouts at him, pulling on the latch again with all her strength. “For God's sake, Aegon, how much do you weigh?”

He opens his mouth to answer, but remains silent when Annika staggers backward and is left with the latch in her hand, while they hear the latch from the outside falling to the ground.

Aegon nods, lips tight. “That was your fault.”

“My fault?” She yells at him. “No. The last thing I want is to be stuck here with you. Go get something to open the door. Helaena! Aemond! Daeron! Willa! Floris! Logan!”

“Oh, great. Only the bears can hear you, Annika,” Aegon mocks her, and the wood bangs on the door. “Relax. Move. I'll open it.”

“By kicking it?” She asks, arms crossed.

“Of course, what do you think?”

“You're... You know what? Go ahead. Kick the door open.”

She steps aside as Aegon moves all his limbs as if he wanted to warm up his muscles whose only recreation is going up the steep street of his apartment when he returns from buying cigarettes on the corner at three in the morning. He prepares, takes a little distance, and hits the door with all his might.

Annika smiles satisfied when she sees him on the floor, in pain, holding his leg and complaining like a child. “Are you done? Can I shout for the others again?”

“That would be fine,” he whispers, almost breathless, straightening up to sit on the floor, almost defeated. “I don't think any of them have gone to bed yet, so shout loudly.”

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

Daeron laughs as he positions Willa on his lap, both sitting on individual sofas. Aemond and Floris are next to each other, a little too smiley from the alcohol intake, and Helaena is sitting on the floor beside Logan's legs as he holds a guitar on his lap.

“Hel, you're a terrible singer!” Floris mocks.

“What about you? You sound like a wounded wolf!” Helaena responds, offended. Willa laughs too.

“Come on, play another one!” Daeron asks Logan.

“Well, only if you insist,” he replies, and starts playing the first chords of a song without saying which one.

Incredibly, it's Aemond who takes a sip of his wine and guesses it first, singing the first verse. “Such a feeling's coming over me, there is wonder in most everything I see...”

“Not a cloud in the sky, got the sun in my eyes, and I won't be surprised if it's a dream,” Willa continues, cheerful. And of all, she might have the least hoarse voice.

“Everything I want the world to be, is now coming true especially for me,” Daeron continues, using the tip of a small beer bottle as a microphone.

“And the reason is clear, it's because you are here, you're the nearest thing to heaven that I've seen,” Floris and Helaena sing together, while the blonde moves her arms in the closest thing to a dance she has.

“I'm on the top of the world looking down on creation!” They all sing this time, including Logan. “And the only explanation I can find is the love that I've found ever since you've been around… Your love's put me at the top of the world!”

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

“How long have we been here?” Aegon asks, exhausted.

Annika checks her watch. “Ten minutes.”

“What are they doing in there that they can't hear your screams?” he complains. “I want to get out of here. It's cold and creepy.”

“I don't know, but they're probably having a better night than me,” she says, leaning against the dusty shelf with a bit of disgust. “I hope you're happy.”

“This isn't my fault. If you had stayed and listened to what I wanted to tell you, you wouldn't have broken the damn latch,” Aegon reproaches again.

“Did it ever occur to you that I don't want to hear what you have to say because you messed with the one thing you know hurts me the most?” she says, wrapping herself even more in her wool sweater.

He lowers his head, feeling a bit guilty. Suddenly, everything Aemond told him feels too heavy. “Annika…”

“How could you?” She retorts suddenly. “How could you keep something like that to yourself? For years? How could you not tell me?”

“What did you want me to say?” He asks, standing up to her level. “I'm asking you seriously. What was I supposed to tell you? I wasn't supposed to tell you I knew she was sick. And I certainly wasn't supposed to tell you she didn't want me near you.”

Annika laughs. “You weren't supposed to use it as an excuse to not be with me. It's not fair that you're doing this to me. My mother has nothing to do with you being a mess who can't get his priorities straight.”

“Do you think I don't have my priorities straight?” He asks, starting to feel more annoyed than concerned for her, who clearly is fine.

“Please, I know you don't have your priorities straight. You dropped out of college, live in San Francisco on your father's money doing God knows what, and push everyone out of your life so they won't see that you're nothing more than a complete disaster.”

“Oh, who are you kidding, trust-fund princess? Hey, guess what, your mother dying doesn't give you a free pass to be a complete jerk with everyone when things don't go your way. Grow up a bit.”

She furrows her brow, annoyed. “Your father preferring his grandchildren over you doesn't give you the right to be a jerk either, but here you are.”

Aegon runs his hands over his face and stifles a scream. “God! You're fucking crazy. You shouldn't be here. None of you should be here!”

“Well, tough luck, champ. We're here trapped, literally and figuratively. Deal with it.”

Annika crosses her arms again and turns her back, but Aegon hasn't finished.

“No, but seriously. You being here has ruined everything. Floris and Aemond fought over your stupid little game…”

“Oh, come on! As if I made Aemond sleep with someone else!”

“And if they hadn't been here, I'd probably have someone sucking my cock right now.”

“Is that all the fuss? That no one has sucked you off?” She asks, putting her hands on her hips. “I'd do it if you weren't such an idiot, just a reminder.”

He bites his inner cheek, holding back the urge to shout.

“You… You're insane, Annika. You were yelling at me two minutes ago, and now you want to suck me off.”

“I never said I wanted to, just that I would.”

Aegon blinks. “You would? I mean… Now?”

“You lost the privilege of asking me to suck you off when you threw my dead mother's name into this mess,” she says, crossing her arms.

“And if I eat you out?”

“If you come near me, I'll bash your head in with those rusty golf clubs,” Annika points to them in a corner. Aegon smiles. “I’m going to ask you a question.”

“Thanks for the heads up.”

“Are you never going to settle down, or do you just not want to settle down with me?” She asks, leaving modesty behind. Aegon doesn't seem willing to answer. “And if it's not me, then I want to know why it's not me. Why not me?”

“Anything else you want to know?” He mocks.

“Why did you drop out of college? What's in San Francisco that made you move there? Why did you leave?”

Because I want you far away, far away. As far away as possible. I want you to forget about me.

“I don't think I can settle down. You know how I am.”

“I knew how you were when we were teenagers. We fucked for the first time three years ago, and since then, you've left but always come back to me. And you want to convince me that I'm just another of your girls?”

He groans. “We have the best sex, that's it.”

“And you know why.”

“You sound like Aemond,” he says. “Who, by the way, knows. About you and me.”

Annika walks toward him carefully and sits astride. Aegon knows she's testing him, but he's also sure she wants to sit and doesn't want to ruin her clothes by leaning against any dirty places.

“I don't care if Aemond knows,” she tells him. The wool cardigan slips off one shoulder, and he tries to keep his eyes anywhere else but her cleavage. “Did you tell him?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted him to punch me and tell me how out of my reach you are and that I made a mistake.”

“And he didn't tell you that?”

“He said other things,” he cuts her off quickly. “But, you know what I think is funny? That you're here playing a game like a stupid teenager, trying to get me to say I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you when you never thought to tell me that yourself. Because you couldn't bear that it might not be a reciprocated feeling, so you haven't even thought about how you really feel about me. You just want me here to tell you I love you and fix you. I know you. You're an expert at sucking the life out of those around you, and I won't let you do that to me.”

“I can't do that. You have no life, nothing I could suck.”

“I have a dick that could use it.”

“You're making me cringe,” she shakes off a pretend shiver. The dress fabric has ridden up to the middle of her thighs, and he puts his hands on her waist, pressing forcefully to draw her closer. “What's in San Francisco?”

Aegon kisses her, holding the back of her neck so she won't pull away. Maybe he wants to shut her up, and maybe he wants to kiss her, sometimes he doesn't even understand it himself. But his pants feel tight, and she's at his mercy and willing, because she kisses him again. Palms against his chest, clutching the shirt and crumpling it between her impatient fingers.

“I want to fuck you right here,” he whispers against her lips. “One last time, please.”

“One last time? And then what?” She asks, arching her back slightly to bring her chest closer to his. “And then you'll disappear forever?”

“Maybe.”

Annika removes his hands from her with some difficulty, creating some distance between their bodies. “It's hard.”

“What's hard?”

“Loving you,” she replies simply, her green eyes almost soaked. Aegon's lips part slightly in surprise, and soon he stops breathing. “It's hard and painful. And you only make it worse.”

He doesn't know what to say. Suddenly, he's a little boy again who doesn't understand why his father doesn't celebrate his achievements and why his only company is the babysitters and why no one wants to do the science project with him—because he's the problem.

There's something about it that shakes him to his core when she stands up, adjusts her dress, and the wool cardigan swallows her almost entirely, shielding her from his cruelty. He wants to say something, but he can't formulate the words. His mind is blank.

“I…” 

“You wanted to hear it? Well, now you have,” she interrupts him, leaning against the wall on the other side of the shed. “I don't want to hear from you.”

He blinks, dumbfounded, and after a few moments of silence, he finally lets out, “There's nothing in San Francisco.”

“What are you talking about?”

“San Francisco. There's nothing keeping me there. I'm not doing anything in particular either. I guess I'm just running away,” he says. “There's nothing of you there.”

“Is that why you mail me my pink sweater? Because you had to move to a different country and a different city that had nothing to do with me?”

“Basically.”

“So, do you hate me?”

“I don't hate you,” he responds. “And you're right. You always have been. I love you too.”

Annika runs her hands through her hair in frustration and lets out a bitter laugh. “Are you kidding me?”

Soon, they hear a noise coming from the door, and it opens to reveal Daeron with his hand on the doorknob he fixed from the outside. “There you are! We've been looking for you for a while. The doorknob broke and fell. Are you okay?”

Their presence doesn't seem to matter to either of them.

“You're driving me crazy,” Annika shoots at Aegon, walking out the door without even acknowledging Daeron's presence.

“What's wrong with her?” the younger one asks, confused.

“Not now,” Aegon replies, walking quickly and pushing his brother aside. Behind him, he hears the shed door close in the breeze. “Annika, wait.”

“I'm tired of waiting for you,” she protests, her voice firm and cold. When she enters the house, her muscles relax in the warm atmosphere, and the others look at them curiously.

“Where were you guys?” Floris asks with concern. “Why do you look dirty?”

“Because Aegon broke the door, and we got stuck in the utility shed.”

“Could you stop saying it was my fault?! I needed you to hear what I wanted to tell you, and you broke the doorknob!”

Floris looks at Aemond confused, and he shrugs.

“You kidnapped me in the shed! I wanted out!”

“Okay, that's enough, it doesn't matter who broke it,” Helaena intervenes, putting her hands on Annika's cold shoulders. “What's going on? Why are you fighting now?”

Annika crosses her arms. “You already know, Aegon knew about my mom's illness long before I did. All that time, he knew and didn't tell me anything about it. And apparently, her dying wish was expressed to him instead of me, her daughter. Isn't that funny?”

Helaena hugs her tightly as if they were little girls again. Floris looks at Aegon appalled, while he clenches his fists. Logan and Willa shift uncomfortably in the room.

“So... Is that true?” Floris dares to ask. Aegon nods sternly. “I mean... Annika, that's not his fault. It wasn't something he could tell you, I think.”

“No, I know that… But what's macabre about the situation is that he uses it as an excuse to ruin my life, that he uses my mother as if her words were something sacred to him and acts like he respects her wishes when he's been fucking me for over three years!” Annika says. The room falls silent for a moment, and the air is tense.

Daeron enters, shivering from the cold but with a smile. “Hey, you left me locked in the shed. Thank God I was able to fix it. What are you talking about?”

“You two have been fucking... For three years?” Floris asks, surprised.

“What!?” Daeron exclaims, looking at his brother. “You and Annika?”

“It's not...” He begins to say, looking only at Helaena as if he owed her an explanation, but instantly falls silent when Annika laughs. Finally, he sighs. “Yes, Annika and I. I'm sorry. I really didn't want you to find out like this.”

“No, he didn't want you to find out, period,” she adds. “He uses my mother as an excuse not to be with me, but that didn't stop him from showing up on the night of the debutante ball and ruining absolutely everything!”

“I've had enough of this,” Aegon barks, approaching her almost dangerously and grabbing her arm tightly; his face inches from hers. “You want to know what happened that night? Everyone wants to know, right? I bet you do. You staged this whole show, so I'm going to tell you,” he says, letting go of her arm, trying to control the violence generated by the situation. “I beat Dalton Greyjoy not because I wanted to ruin your night or because I was drunk; in fact, I wasn't even drunk. I beat him up because you were a girl, and he was older, and I spent half an hour listening to him talk to his friends about everything he was going to do to you. And how after he finished with you, his friends could have you. That's right. He could sit next to you and act like a gentleman with plans to hurt you while I was on the side being villainized for not wanting to hurt you. And you know what? It's not fair. I was taking care of you. I have always taken care of you.”

No one dares to speak after his revelation. Daeron frowns and scratches his neck, somewhat uncomfortable, then puts his hands on Willa's shoulders as she hugs her legs curled up on the sofa. Logan doesn't dare to breathe, and neither does Floris.

Aegon steps back a few paces as if he needs to get away from all of them.

“Aegon. Why didn't you ever say anything?” Helaena asks.

“What use would it be? Annika would say that I was trying to ruin not only her life but her relationship. You wouldn't have believed me, none of you would’ve.”

Annika laughs, and this time, she approaches him. “Aegon, after all we've been through, you really thought I would have believed Dalton Greyjoy over you?”

He shrugs. “I didn't want you to get your hopes up. You were a bit foolish, and I wasn't exactly a knight in shining armour.”

“Always so considerate of my feelings,” she says, rolling her eyes. “God, Aegon, you're... a fucking idiot.”

“See? See how she is?” He addresses the rest and points at Annika. The only one who laughs is Helaena, who seems tempted by the whole situation, unlike the others who are uncomfortable but too involved.

“I mean, you should have told me. And to be honest, I didn't need you to take care of me like that... I appreciate that you told me the truth, but you embarrass me.”

“Well I lied to you; I was a bit drunk, yes,” he smiles, feeling the tension between them disappear. Then he remembers that everyone is watching them. “Would you guys mind?”

“Um... No? We've been here listening for five minutes. We deserve to know how this ends,” Daeron complains. “Please, make it our Christmas gift.”

“Fine,” Aegon says. “But then forget the air fryer I got you.”

“That's what you got me for Christmas?” Daeron asks disgusted. “Forget it. Continue. Pretend we're not here.”

Annika shakes her head and looks at Aegon again, almost pleadingly. “So. How is it going to end? Forget about my mother. Forget about Dalton Greyjoy. Just you and me.”

“You wanted to hear me say that I love you, and you ran the moment I did. So, you tell me, how's it going to be?”

“You love her!?” Daeron shouts.

“Daeron!” Everyone yells at him.

She squeezes her eyes shut tightly. “I'm willing to try. But if you're not willing, if you don't make an effort... it ends here, now. And I mean it.”

Aegon has a lot to evaluate; he knows that. He has to learn not to run away, to face tense and uncomfortable situations just like she does.

But if there's anyone who would make all these horrors more bearable, it's Annika.

He laughs and pinches her cheeks. “Well, I have to admit you’re the best sex I’ve ever had. I can't lose that."

“Ugh! You're so crude,” Annika protests, struggling to pull away from him, overwhelmed. “In front of everyone. Seriously, what's wrong with you? You're not right in the head.”

“Of course not, and neither are you,” he teases, while trying to pull her closer. He squeezes her cheeks with one hand and plants a chaste kiss on her lips. There's a feeling that reminds him, though, that he still has to face Helaena's scrutiny, silently standing by the Christmas tree with an indescribable expression. “Hel?”

“What?” She asks, confused.

“Is this okay with you?”

“Annika and you?” She asks, and he nods, still holding Annika around the waist. Helaena laughs. “It's a bit disappointing how uneventful it was, but, yes. I mean, you finally admitted it.”

“But I...”

“You're my brother, and she's my best friend. It’s like it was written in the stars, and, please, the only ones here who didn't know you two were sleeping together were Daeron and Floris.”

“Hey!” They say in unison, and then look at each other and sigh. Daeron shakes his head. “Ah, why lie. She's right. I would have never seen it coming. I mean, I never imagined you two were in love.”

“I knew,” Willa says, and her boyfriend looks at her puzzled. “Didn't you notice? Besides, the last time we were in San Francisco, Aegon lent me Annika's pink sweater. It was obvious.”

Annika turns her head like the Exorcist and looks at Aegon with an expression bordering on the macabre. “You. Lent. My. Pink. Sweater?”

“Please don't break up with me,” he sighs and gives her a kiss on the forehead.

“It already beat the record for your longest relationship,” Aemond teases, and everyone laughs.

“Alright, since we're confessing things... I have something to tell you,” says Helaena, approaching to take Logan's hand, who is sitting on the sofa. “He's my boyfriend.”

Floris gasps in surprise.

“Please tell me you're not moving to Aspen,” Annika pleads.

“He doesn't live here in Aspen; we lied to all of you. We have been dating for months,” she says, carefree. “I wanted you all to meet him before everyone at home, wanted to meet Willa, have Aegon and Annika finally admit they love each other, and know what happened between Aemond and Floris. At first, I was going to propose hosting Christmas in New York, but I knew everyone would find an excuse not to come, so when I saw on Dad's credit card statement the flights Aemond and Aegon bought to Aspen, I convinced Annika and Floris to come. And I mentioned this place to Daeron several times during the weeks leading up to it, knowing he'd end up coming instead of going to London. And, hey! Everything worked out perfectly.”

Everyone looked at each other, a little scared.

“So... You knew we were all coming?” Aemond asks.

“Basically, yes.”

“And you two pretended not to know each other...”

“Yes, exactly. The storm and getting stuck here were a coincidence. I wanted you to meet in a calm environment without preconceptions. And I sent you both to the shed, but the doorknob breaking was also a coincidence. It was fate, I think,” she explains.

Aegon opens his mouth to say something but can't formulate words due to surprise. “Anything else?”

“Oh, yes... I saw you and Annika together in France a few months ago. But I didn't say anything because Logan and I also went incognito.”

She laughs and walks over to hug Helaena. “My beautiful, beautiful weirdo. I love you so much, but don't ever do something like this again.”

“And you could have told us about him,” Floris also gets up to give her a hug.

“There was never a right time; something always came up, and we really wanted to spend the holidays together. Introducing him at home when everything was a mess wasn't a viable option,” she replies, giving Floris's hand a squeeze. “I'm so sorry, guys, but I really wanted to bring you all together, and this was the only way I found. Are you mad?”

Her voice is so sweet and gentle, and she's so Helaena that none of them can be angry. She knows it very well and is kind enough to at least apologize; she knows there will be no consequences.

“Of course not, Hel. I really enjoyed being here with all of you...” Aemond begins to say.

“Don't get sentimental on me now,” Aegon cuts him off, giving his sister friendly pats on the head. “Thanks, Hel. Even though we had stale sandwiches, thanks. Now, if you'll excuse me, I want to take a shower. I'm freezing and dirty.”

“That’s a Christmas miracle, alright,” Floris teases. He gives her the middle finger.

“I have a girlfriend now. I have to look presentable. She's truly neat.”

Annika raises an eyebrow. “I don't remember you asking if I wanted to be your girlfriend.”

“It's not necessary,” he says, and leans to support her body in his arms, carrying her like a princess. She wrinkles her nose. “Well, good night.”

“I thought you were going to take a bath?” Daeron says. “It was too good to be true.”

“Yes, I'm going to shower. She's coming with me. Enjoy yourselves.”

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

In the two hours that Aegon and Annika have been in a relationship, he has realized that Annika doesn't joke when it comes to a shower.

“You know,” he says, a towel wrapped around his hips as he finishes brushing his teeth and watches the girl apply lotion. “When I brought you to the shower, I was expecting some sex. You know. Like a honeymoon. Christmas shower sex.”

She looks at him, her golden curls a bit darker and soaked. She's wearing a pink satin robe. “But look how cute you turned out with the cream bath. And I thought you liked my shower gel.”

“I smell like lavender,” he says, indignant. “Don't get used to this.”

“Why would it be so terrible to use shampoo, conditioner, and soap separately?”

“I'm telling you, my 3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner, and soap are fine. Cosmetics are just an industry that takes advantage of women to make money and destroy our planet.”

“Alright, Mr. I use my family's private jet to pick up chicks.”

“Those days are behind me,” he says, shaking wet strands of white hair to splash her. She scoffs, and he takes her by the waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I have my favourite girl with me.”

“Wait, let me just...” Annika asks when he starts kissing her neck, tickling her. She shifts her shoulder restlessly and leaves her cream on the marble countertop when he unties the robe's knot and runs his hands over her body. “Aegon, stop. I need to dry my hair.”

“But it's been so long,” he says, turning her around and cornering her against the counter. He helps her jump up and gets between her legs, opening the robe more. Annika smells like lavender, and he does too. It's even a bit comical.

She takes him by the nape of his neck and pulls him to her lips, kissing him fiercely, as if seeking some kind of animalistic release. Annika hugs him tightly, pressing her naked chest against his, while Aegon's hands grip her thighs so firmly she's sure he'll leave a mark.

She could cry. “I missed you,” she murmurs on his lips.

He smiles mischievously, reaching her wet centre. She squirms every time he gives her the attention she needs, tracing small circles on her clit.

“I need you so bad,” he gasps, feeling her tighten against his fingers.

Then Annika experiences a moment of enlightenment and leans back. “Wait. I'm not on the pill.”

Aegon blinks, as hard as he can. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No, I stopped taking them since...”

“I don't have condoms,” he curses, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

“How do you not have condoms?”

“No, I already used them,” he replies without thinking. She lets out a heavy sigh through her nose, and he raises his gaze a bit embarrassed. “I didn't know you were coming. You know I was trying to...”

“I don't care,” she cuts him off, breathing a bit calmer but still agitated as if coming down from a moment of ecstasy. “Ask Daeron.”

“Don't you think it's a bit humiliating?”

“To Logan, then.”

“Annika! I don't want to think about him having condoms. He's my sister's boyfriend.”

She rolls her eyes. “I also have an older brother, and I doubt he'd make such a fuss when I tell him you're my boyfriend.”

Aegon shudders, but a smile appears on his face. “I'm sure Rhys will love to hear the news.”

“Your mother will be happy.”

“Of course, she loves you more than she loves me,” he tells her and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “Listen, I could just...”

“It's not going to happen. Get me condoms,” she orders, pushing him away from her body and tying the robe again. “Go, while I dry my hair.”

“God, give me patience,” he murmurs, leaving the bathroom for his room to put on a change of clothes and lose all his dignity heading to his younger brother's room.

He walks stealthily and knocks on the door a couple of times, swaying on the spot. Daeron opens the door, a bit surprised. “Hey, what's up?”

“Here goes nothing, I guess... By any chance, do you have... You know...?” His brother looks at him impatiently, and he sighs. “I ran out of condoms.”

“Oh,” he avoids laughing. “Wait a second.”

He closes the door in Aegon's face, missing his nose by just a few millimeters. A few seconds later, he opens it again, only showing his head and extends his arm to give him a small box. “Have fun.”

“Ribbed? Are you kidding me, Daeron?” Aegon sighs when he reads the box, putting his hand to his head. Listen, if I come back with this, Annika will make me sleep on the stairs, and I won't have sex. Don't you have something simpler?”

“What do you think I am? A pharmacy? Get your own stuff,” Daeron mentions and closes the door in his face again.

He returns to his room, almost dejected. He's had enough, and it doesn't even occur to him to knock on Aemond's door. He finds Annika with her hair tied up and folded over her head with a strange device, wearing the same pajamas from the night before.

“Did you get the stuff?”

“Um...” he tosses her the little box. She quickly reads and returns it the same way, shaking her head.

“That is not going anywhere near me, let alone inside” she replies. “Sorry, champ. We can always do other things. Fun things.”

“Like what?” He asks, tempted by the idea. Annika approaches him and pushes him onto the bed, straddling him. She gives him a kiss on the lips and moves to his ear.

“Well, I could return the favour from the other night...”

“God,” he almost pleads, in a tone of voice resembling a whine. His cock twitches beneath her, expectant, and Annika doesn't take much longer to kneel in front of him and play with the elastic of his pajama pants. “Annika, please do something already.”

“Well. Tell me you love me first,” she teases, stroking him over the fabric.

“I love you,” he says, leaning down to give her a kiss on the forehead. “You're the best, and you're the queen of the whole world and the universe.”

“You know me so well,” she purrs before lowering his pants and taking him into her mouth.

Aegon growls when she strokes the wet tip with her agile tongue, feeling like a teenager knowing he won't last long because she knows exactly what to do. How to take it all, how to sink her cheeks, how to use her hand, and how to caress other parts of him.

Unconsciously, he tries to tangle his hand in her hair, and she slaps him and stops pleasing him. “Hey. No. I'm trying these heatless curls. It took me a lot.”

“Are you kidding me?” he complains, furrowing his brow. “But...”

"Shh, it’s fine," she hushes him, taking his hands and intertwining them with hers, using only her mouth. He groans impatiently, and it doesn't take much longer for him to release in her mouth. She takes every drop, and he doesn't even get a chance to say anything before Aegon has her pinned against the mattress, kissing her lips and making her laugh.

“You're so...” he says but gets interrupted by a knock on the door. “Oh, fuck. And now what?”

“Maybe it's Santa,” she jokes, hitting his arm to get him off her. Aegon adjusts his clothes, just like she does, and it's she who heads to the door.

“If he doesn't have a box of condoms, tell him I'll kick his ass back to the South Pole through the chimney,” he says, settling on the bed.

“North. Santa lives in the North Pole,” Floris corrects when Annika opens the door. She looks distraught, with a red nose and teary eyes.

“Are you okay? What's wrong?” Annika asks, taking her arm and ushering her into the room. She strokes Floris's hair, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, talk to me...”

Floris doesn't speak; she just bursts into tears and hugs Annika.

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

It's late, and while everyone seems to be asleep, Aegon and Annika remain awake in silence. He shifts uncomfortably on the hard floor, sighing and raising his torso to observe Annika sitting against the back of her bed while Floris sleeps peacefully in her arms. He gave them some space as they spoke quietly, but then joined the conversation and told Annika she could stay there for the night.

“Still awake?” He asks, although he knows she is.

“It's hard to sleep,” she replies. “I really hate your brother.”

“Do you think she'll be okay?” Aegon asks, referring to Floris. Annika carefully moves her from his arms to the other end of the bed, and when she returns to her place, he climbs into the bed on the other side and lies down on her. Annika looks at him tiredly. “What? It's my turn.”

She rolls her eyes and runs her hand through his hair, adjusting it so he doesn't crush her chest. “She'll be fine, eventually. But I can't go to San Francisco with you when we leave here. She needs me right now.”

“I understand,” he replies, lifting his head. “Are you going back to New York?”

“I want Floris to settle in. Helaena is going back to London to see your family, and we'll all meet again on New Year's,” she explains. Aegon nods. “You can come with us.”

“To New York?”

“Yes. You know, you could help us move Floris's furniture around.”

He laughs. “You're asking me to move in with you.”

“No, I'm asking you to come with me so we can go back home together later. My apartment is big, and it'll just be Floris and me,” she tells him. “I don't plan on making you leave your life in San Francisco for me. And right now, she really needs me.”

Aegon sighs. “I feel like we're married. We're not having sex, and we have a child to take care of in our bed. We're skipping a lot of steps.”

“Or we already had a lot of sex,” she laughs, giving him a kiss on the forehead. Aegon squeezes her waist. “It's the least I can do for her.”

“Well, of course, you both need a male presence. I have friends in New York. Maybe we can introduce her to one.”

“She'd hate your friends.”

“But I want to reconnect with them. Show them the hot girlfriend I got...”

“The girlfriend you got?” She teases. “Oh, God. You're a weirdo.”

“I am,” he says, leaning up to give her a brief kiss on the lips. “And so you'll have to put up with me for the rest of the week, roomie.”

“Floris will be thrilled.”

“We'll get her earplugs because I have no intention of giving you a break.”

“It’s a promise, then.”

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

Christmas morning unfolds with a surprising sense of normality. There are several miracles to be thankful for, such as Annika helping prepare breakfast and, as the road was clear, Logan and Helaena making an early trip to fetch provisions. This allowed Daeron to enjoy his Christmas-themed pancakes (or something resembling them, as they were made by Annika).

Floris looks a bit sad, but occasional hugs from Helaena or Annika manage to bring a smile to her face. Additionally, Annika accidentally tripped and spilled her hot chocolate on Aemond's Christmas sweater, also known as the last clean piece of clothing he had for his stay.

“How clumsy. My foot still hurts. Whoops.”

Aemond says nothing, just giving her a friendly punch on the arm. Despite any lingering resentment between them, they laugh, at least for now. Everyone could have returned to their homes, different states, or countries, but they chose to stay.

“You know what I think?” Daeron says, helping set the table. “We should make this our own Christmas tradition.”

“I think what made it special was that it wasn't planned,” Floris replies. “I mean, 80% of us were deceived.”

“I can't believe you didn't see it coming,” Helaena says. “I fooled two of the smartest people I know. Does that make me the smartest one here, then?”

“Wouldn't you like that,” Aemond smirks. “But you come pretty close. Maybe third place.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Aegon complains. “You wish you were as beautiful as Annika and me.”

“You're not even close to her level, Aegon. She's too pretty for you,” Daeron tells him.

“Still in love with her?” He teases, and Daeron crosses his arms, while Annika passes behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders.

“He's still my favourite, and now I have a new favourite,” Annika says, putting one of her hands on Willa's shoulder. “I really hope you guys come to visit us.”

“I just hope it's not like the visit we paid Aegon,” Willa recalls.

“Of course not. I'm more fun.”

“Alright, sit down already,” Logan asks when the table is set again. Everyone takes their places as the night before, and he raises his cup of hot chocolate. “Merry Christmas, guys. Thanks for including me.”

“We haven't included you yet; it caught us by surprise. The next time we meet, we'll subject you to our initiation ritual,” Daeron explains, looking the most horrified at the idea of his sister's new boyfriend.

“He's right. Are you free on New Year's?” Aegon asks seriously, and Annika kicks him under the table.

“Enough nonsense, and let's try Annika's pancakes,” Helaena suggests, with a smile. “She got up very early to make them.”

“Yes, I did. And I broke a nail in the process,” she says, embarrassed. “So if you find a nail, don't be surprised.”

Floris grimaces and wrinkles her nose when she sees the pancake that simulates a deformed star. “I love you, but maybe learning to make pancakes should be a New Year's resolution for you.”

“You demand too much from me.”

Everyone laughs, creating a warm atmosphere despite the cold outside. Aegon looks around and feels truly fortunate to have these people with him. If he had to go back a few weeks and were offered the chance to live out his initial plans instead of this Christmas fiasco, he wouldn't change it in a million years. But that's not something he'd tell them. They know already.

And, as Daeron said, he really hopes they can repeat it next Christmas and make it their own tradition, away from their parents, although he doubts it will be as special as this one.

“Annika!” Helaena yells, as everyone spits out the pancakes in disgust. “You put salt instead of sugar!”

“Oh, no.”

Well, perhaps he could use a less-special Christmas.

#christmas au #aegon ii targaryen #helaena targaryen #aemond targaryen #daeron targaryen #targtowers #hotd morden au #team green #fanfic #aegon targaryen fic #aegon targaryen smut #annika lannister #asoiaf #hotd #got #aegon ii fanfic #aemond targaryen x oc

19 notes · View notes

beebeetheclown · 8 months

Note

Hi! Can you do 3, 23, and 30 from the dialogue smut prompts with Kendall? 🫠

Of course :) I made this one shot on the more softer and sweeter side lol. Hope you like what I came up with and have a good rest of your night <3

One Shot Request from Dialogue Prompt List⬇️

Tags: F/M, Kendall Roy/Reader, Kendall Roy/You (sweeter rather than spicy? I think lol)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Willa, your best friend, invited you to join her and Connor to the gala that was being held for Waystar. She invited you out because she knew you loved to dress up and look all pretty, like a princess. The two of you played princesses all the time when you were children, it grew on you I guess. You enjoyed wearing big fancy dresses and attending big fancy parties, it made you feel good.

Inside the huge building, it was full with people and separate dinner tables. You, of course, sat with Willa and Connor because you didn’t know anyone else that was there. You have heard about the Roy family both from the media and Willa, but you’ve never actually met any of them before, minus Connor of course.

Willa leaves you alone at the table while following Connor around, he’s trying to make everything perfect. You decide to go and grab yourself a drink before the speeches begin so you head over to the small bar area.

It’s when you receive your drink when Kendall Roy begins to speak to you, trying to get your attention all towards him.

“It’s going to be a long night, I recommend two of those.” He says, motioning to the alcoholic beverage in your hands. You turn to face him, he was a stranger to you and you were a stranger to him. You liked his low toned voice, ‘it would be good for asmr’, you stupidly think to yourself as you smile at him.

“You think this night will be long?” You question.

“Well, I guess it depends, if people keep pulling you in for a chat after the speeches, then yeah, it’ll be a long night.”

You take a sip of your drink, “So, I shouldn’t get to know people?” You tease.

“I mean, you could get to know me. I’d like to get to know you.” He says with a smile. You smile back at him, you thought he was attractive, not just because of his deep asmr like voice, but because he was just attractive with or without a nice voice.

“Get to know me then, ask for my name.”

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

You tell him your name then ask for his.

“Kendall,” he replies, “Kendall Roy.”

Oh shit, he was a Roy and you didn’t even know.

“Roy, Kendall Roy?” You question.

“Uh huh.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

He laughs a little, “What, why are you sorry?”

“Because, I didn’t know you were.. Well Kendall fucking Roy.”

“Don’t be sorry about it.” He replies softly.

“So, does that mean you have a speech tonight?”

“Uh huh. I’m not sure if I’m ready for it or not though. It probably is going to all sound bullshit.”

“No, I’m sure it’s good.”

“Can I maybe get your opinions on it? I could read my speech out to you, then you tell me if I should fix anything?”

You smile and take another sip of your drink, “Sure.”

He smiles and then leads you over to his table. As you make your way there, he doesn’t let any silence fill between the two of you.

“So, uh, who did you come with? A boyfriend? Husband?”

You can’t help but let out a little laugh, “No, I’m just a friend of Willa’s”

You make it to his table and he pulls out a chair for you and pushes it in, being a true gentleman.

“Didn’t she come with Connor?” He asks as he sits down across from you.

“Yeah, she did.”

“So, you’re just like… fuckin’ third wheeling.”

You smile, “Yeah, I guess so.”

He smiles back at you, “ Well, so am I.” he replies, “you see my sister Shiv over there?” He asks and points in her direction.

“Yes, I see her.”

“Well, she came with her husband, they tend to cheat on each other.”

You raise your eyebrows and let out a small huff of air as a laugh, it was funny how he could just easily talk shit about his own siblings.

“And Rome, over there, he’s with his so-called girlfriend I guess.”

“Do they cheat on each other too?” You joke.

“Oh no, instead my brother has weird sex problems and can’t fuck his own girlfriend.”

“Are you always this forward? Talking shit about your siblings?” You ask and can’t help but let out another laugh.

“I tend to be, yeah.” He says lowly. “Do you think that’s a problem?”

You think for a minute, “Maybe, it’s a bit toxic yeah but, I have to admit that I think you're the best Roy child to me so far.”

He smiles and shakes his head, “No, I don’t think I’m the best.”

“How come? I mean, you didn’t come with your wife who you cheat on, didn’t come with a girl you don’t know how to fuck and aren’t getting angry at the staff for making a piece of fucking butter cold.”

He looks into your eyes again and a big smile appears on his face. “I like you.”

“I like you too.” The two of you smile at each other for a moment before he takes a breath in and then asks you to listen and see if his speech is any good.

As you are listening to him read out words, every word begins to sound like blurred out mumbles as you can’t focus on anything else but how badly you wanted to kiss him, how badly you wanted him. You had just met the guy, but you wanted him more than ever.

“What do you think? Good?” He asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Oh, uh, yeah. It sounds great Kendall, you’ll do fine.”

…

Speeches go on for about 15 minutes before it’s Kendall’s turn. You give him a small smile and whisper, “Good luck.” to him as he stands and makes his way to the stage.

As you’re listening to him speak, you feel yourself fall more and more for him, something about him just made you weak.

You clap for him when his speech ends and smile as he comes down to join you again. His speech was last, meaning that you could now leave. You didn’t want to leave with Willa anymore, you wanted to leave with him.

“Want to head out, before people try and make long, pointless chats with us?” It’s like he knew exactly what you wanted.

“Yes, I think that’s a good idea.”

He smiles and he leads you out. You pass Willa and she notices you are following Kendall and smiles at you, happy for her best friend. She was happy seeing you happy, so she let Kendall lead you out.

When you are outside, he immediately pulls you away so that you are somewhere quieter.

“You came with Willa, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“So, is she giving you a ride home then or,”

You decide to be brave and step closer to him, “or what?”

His lips are close to yours now, “Or, I could drive you home.”

You hum then reply, “That sounds like a better idea.”

It gets quiet as you wait for his reply, wondering what he will say next. Wondering if he was feeling the same tension you were feeling.

“Please kiss me.” He says softly, “I need you to kiss me.”

You don’t waste anymore time and plant your lips softly on his and put your hands at the sides of his face. The kiss breaks for a second, but then it continues with him going back in again. The kiss begins to get more and more messy, with his tongue slipping in your mouth and sucking on your bottom lip.

“Where’s your car?” You whisper.

He takes your hand then begins to lead you to where his driver was parked. “Can I take you home… please.” He was so desperate for someone's love. It had been a while since anyone had made him feel good about himself, you were giving him everything and he needed you alone and all to himself.

When the two of you are in the car and on your way to his apartment, you can’t help but lean over and kiss his lips again. He grabs your face and continues to kiss you, letting quiet, little moans leave his lips.

You wanted to give him everything, you just met him about half an hour ago and you already wanted to give in, love him and give him anything he needed or wanted.

It was rare for Kendall to be this sweet and soft for a woman. Usually, he would like to be dominant and act like he’s the fucking boss, But with you, he wanted nothing more but to make love to you softly rather than fuck you.

He needed to know that you needed him and only him, that you were only for him and no one else.

As soon as you make it up to his apartment, you are on each other. You giggle as he picks you up and walks you over to his bedroom. He puts you down so you are standing in front of his bed now.

“Turn around,” he says quietly in your ear. You obey and turn so that your back is facing him.

He begins to slowly unzip your dress, “Are you sure you want this?” He asks

“Yes, Kendall. I don’t want anything else.” You admit. It was true, the only thing you wanted at that moment was him. You wanted him to be the only man to undress you.

“Good,” Your dress is fully undressed now and it drops to the floor. The only thing left on you now were your panties. He puts his hands on your shoulder to turn you to face him again. When you’re facing him again, you look up at him.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says. It was such a simple reply, but hearing him say it makes you melt.

You look at him and remove your panties, letting them drop to your feet.

“Please Kendall,” you whimper out.

“Get on the bed.” He says. It wasn’t in a demanding tone, he kept his voice soft, making sure that you were comfortable.

You sit on his bed then he comes to kiss your lips again before pushing you down lightly so that you let yourself fall back and let your back hit the mattress. Your breathing gets heavier as you hear him begin to undress himself.

He seems to hear the speed of your breathing change because he replies with, “Just relax, honey. I’m going to be gentle with you… I want to take my time with you.

“Fuck,” You whimper out softly, you couldn’t help it, you where so turned on.

You suddenly hear the sound of a plastic wrapper tearing apart. You keep your eyes on the ceiling, waiting for what is to come next.

You feel his hand come to your leg and move it to make you spread your legs for him.

“Don’t be nervous,” you feel his tip at your entrance then his fingers come to play with your clit. “You tell me if it’s too much? I’d hate to hurt you sweetheart.”

You moan out at the feeling of his fingers lightly rubbing your clit, “You won’t hurt me Kendall.”

He removes his fingers from your clit then places both of his hands on your hips before he slowly begins to move his hips forward, fitting his tip inside.

You immediately arch your back and let out a breath of relief at the feeling of him inside of you. He pulls back before grinding forward again, fitting more of himself inside of you. He was so worried about hurting you for some reason. He just thought you were so sweet, he wanted to give you nothing but pleasure.

“More Kendall, please.” You embarrassingly beg.

He breathes out as he grinds into you again, this time, fitting himself fully inside. You both gasp and moan out at the feeling. He continues to thrust his hips, setting a slow but pleasurable pace.

You continue to make sweet little noises for him and it makes him groan out.

“Say my name.” He breathes out, “I love hearing my name fall from your sweet little lips.

You throw your head back and whisper out his name.

“Again, say it again.”

“Kendall,” You moan out louder, “Oh, Kendall.”

He can’t hold back after hearing that, he begins to fuck you with a faster pace now which makes you cry out even more. You grab onto his shoulder with a tight grip, your nails digging into his skin.

“You’re too good for me,” He breathes out into your neck, “I don’t deserve someone like you.”

“Yes you do. You deserve everything.”

“Fuck, I wish I could have you to myself forever. I will never get enough of you.”

All of his praising along with his neck kisses and deep thrusts makes you come undone. You cry out and wrap your legs around him as you let your orgasm come over you. He fucks you through your orgasm before his thrusts become more sloppy and he follows close behind you, stilling inside you. His cock twitching as he spills inside the condom.

He kisses you again before laying next to you.

“Fuck, I’ve never felt anything like that before,” he says, “it sounds dumb and cheesy.”

“No, I think it’s cute.”

The two of you kiss one last time and before you know it, you are sleeping in his arms.

#kendall roy #jeremy strong #succession #fanfic #ao3 #fanfiction #kendall roy smut #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy x you

27 notes · View notes