𝕬𝖇𝖎𝖌𝖆𝖑𝖊

“Gross.” Luke says as he walks into the library looking for the book that he was meant to have read a few days ago. “Don’t be disgusting in public places.”

“We were here first and what’s disgusting about listening to someone read?” Jace asks his brother, thinking the boy was being dramatic.

“It’s the way you say it.”

-

“What should we call the babe?” You asks late one night not being able to sleep, given the discomfort you’re in. Jace being the brilliant husband he is has decided to say up with you.

“I don’t know.” He admits half asleep, having spent the afternoon flying on Vermax with Joffrey. The boy desperate to fly.

“If you want we can name him after your father.” You offer, talking about Laenor. Knowing that Jace does miss the man who raised him.

“I want to leave Laenor for Luke and Rhaena to use.” He says kissing you softly in thanks for thinking of his father. “But thank you for the offer.”

“That’s nice of you.” You say softly, feeling the baby kick you.

“I think it’s only fitting.” He says, knowing Luke and Rhaena want to name their eventual children after their parents. The pair not yet married as they are waiting until they’re older. “But I do like Aelora for a girl.”

“Princess Aelora Valaryon.” You say testing it out on your tongue. “I love it.”

-

“Almost there princess just one more push.” The midwife says from between your legs. Jace refusing to leave your side as he holds your hand and places cool wet cloths onto your forehead.

“That’s what you said last time!” You cry, just wanting this baby out of you.

“Come on my love you’ve got this.” Jace says brushing your sweaty hair out your face before kissing your forehead.

“If this cunt would just stop lying!”

“Ok my love just a few more pushes then we get our baby.” Jace tells you remembering hearing his mother give birth and compared to that you were actually being quite nice.

“Which is it! One more push or multiple!” You shout through a contraction, screaming as you push. “Why can’t we lay eggs!” You scream when there’s a sudden sound of a baby crying.

“Congratulations your graces, it a boy.” The midwife says kindly cleaning the babe up a little, and checking he was alright.

“Give.” You say to the midwife as she tries to pass your son to Jace who quickly passes you the baby. The little thing all pink and slimy with tufts of sliver and black hair. “He’s so cute.”

-

“He looks weird.” Joffrey says when everyone has some to visit you and the babe the next day. Rhaenyra wanting you and Jace to have time just the three off you.

“That’s just what babies look like.” Luke says looking at his nephew sleeping in his brother’s arms. Rhaenyra fussing over you, wanting to make sure you’re ok. “What’s his name.”

“Valarr.” You say deciding at that moment, not even asking Jace. When you look at him to check he’s ok with it he just smiles.

“Prince Valarr.” Jace says softly looking down at the boy. “I love it.”

“It’s a name fit for a king.” Rhaenyra says softly looking at her grandson.

-

“Where have you been?” You ask your husband while you bounce Valarr, the six moon old having just met his aunt Visenya who was only born a few hours ago. Rhaenyra having a difficult birth but they both are fine now. You helping your mother by law through it, her refusing anyone else. “Your mother is resting.”

“With daemon picking an egg for Visenya, stormfrye also followed us.” He says kissing your cheek before greeting his son. “Your dragon is very clingy my boy.”

“Where is she now?” You ask smiling at your son, his silver and black hair getting longer, as you think of his dragon. Who hatched during a storm.

“Annoying Vermax.” Jace says with a laugh, having already seen his mother. Wanting to check on her before coming to see you. “I hope you don’t mind but I agreed to put the twins to bed so mother can rest.”

“That’s fine, I was going to do it anyway.” You say, letting your handsome husband take your son off you. Him wanting to cuddle the boy. “You look beautiful.”

-

“Valarr and Visenya are playing with Egg and Vis.” Jace says entering the council meeting, you already sat with Rhaenyra looking over trade deals. Daemon playing with his dagger finding the paperwork side of ruling boring. “I promised if they don’t disturb us they can have cake after dinner.”

“You need to tell cook then.” Daemon says, happy that you’ll stop talking about food imports for a while.

“There’s no need, I’ve already requested Lemon cakes.” You say, having been craving them for days and finally caving. Asking the cooks to make more.

“Are you with child?” Rhaenyra asks, looking away from the parchments to look at you with a smile on her face.

“Pardon?” You ask not expecting that question.

“The last time you requested lemon cakes you were carrying Valarr.” Jace says looking at you, thinking back to how you’ve been acting for the past few weeks. “I’ll call for a maester later to check on you.”

“I’m not with child.” You say your body instantly trying to prove you wrong as you cover your mouth to stop you from vomiting. Having felt nauseous for the past few days but not thinking anything off it. Jace just raises an eyebrow at you. “I’ll see the maester.”

-

“What did it feel like when you were carrying the twins?” You ask Rhaenyra sat in her solar, watching the children play on the floor while you crochet a blanket for the new babe.

“Like they were fighting in me, why?” She asks placing down her book she was reading to give you her full attention.

“Jace thinks we’re having twins and I agree with him.” You say resting your hand on your growing bump, feeling the fluttery sensation again.

“What makes you think that?” She asks drinking some tea, also thinking you’re having twins. The woman paying close attention to you since you found out you were with child again.

“I’m massive, I feel two times worse than when I was carrying Valarr and I’m getting the fluttery feeling in different places at the same time.” You say, your bump looking much bigger than it did when you were carrying Valarr.

“You have your answer then.” She says softly knowing it’s not the twins that you’re anxious about. You having confided in her about your fears the first time.

“I’m scared for the birth, Valarr was painful but two?” You admit, playing with your fingers.

“Birth is a difficult, terrifying thing but they make it worth it, though don’t they?” She says as Valarr and Visenya run over to you both to show you the pictures they’ve made.

“They do.” You say with a smile as Valarr kisses your bump before showing you the family picture he made. That includes all the dragons.

-

“Our little princess and prince.” Jace whispers, sat next to you on the bed. Only an hour after giving birth. “They’re perfect.”

“Muña?” You hear as the chamber doors open, and Valarr now 3 looks like a copy of his father but with silver streaks running through his dark hair.

“Hello my loves.” You say softly to your eldest son, who’s stood in the doorway with his grandmother. The little boy having missed you. “Come here.” You say holding your arms out so he can climb up on the bed for a cuddle. “I’ve missed you my little dragon.”

“Missed you too muña.” He says not noticing his siblings sleeping in his father’s arms. Despite for a cuddle from his mother. “Do you want to meet your siblings?” You ask the boy who nods, before you look over at your mother by law to ask her the same.

“I’d love to.” Rhaenyra says softly making her way over to sit on the edge of the bed. Looking at the sleeping babes in her son’s arms. One already having sliver tufts of hair the other looking like Valarr’s hair when he was born.

“I don’t mind, my prince.” You say sat in the gardens with him and stormfrye, the girl napping in the sun on her back loving Aerion scratching her tummy. The dragon taking to him quicker than anyone else.

“Call me Aerion, husband or my dragon.” He says wanting you to call him your dragon, just as you are his.

“I’ll call you Aerion.” You say still waiting to get to know the man it’s been decided you’re marrying. He does seem a bit crazy but a nice crazy.

“Is there anything you want for the wedding?” He ask having planned the whole thing in only a few hours, you getting married in a moons time.

“I don’t want a bedding ceremony.” You say, the thought of it making you uncomfortable.

“That’s fine you’re mine anyway.” He says simply kissing stormfryes large tummy while hugging her. “Are you looking forward to muña and kepa getting married my little dragon?”

-

“What are you doing?” Aerion asks when you meet in the hallway, him wanting to take you on a date. The wedding happening in two days time.

“I’m going for a quick fly, stormfrye is getting stressed with all these people arriving.” You explain, also finding the amount of people overwhelming looking forward to when it just you and Aerion, the both of you moving to dragonstone soon so Sormfrye has somewhere safe to live.

“Give me a few minutes and I can join you.” He says excitedly kissing your cheek before running off, to get ready so you can still have your date just with stormfrye also present.

“Um, ok?” You say watching him run off towards the kitchens. “I’ll meet you in the gardens.”

-

“I’m ready, I’ve packed us a picnic.” He says dressed in his riding gear, giving Stormfrye a scratch and talking to her in high valyrian. “Are you excited my little princess?”

“That’s sweet of you.” You say smiling at him as he joins you on stormfrye, wrapping his arms around your waist kissing your shoulder as he does so. “You ready? Fly Stormfrye.”

-

“Thank you.” You tell Aerion as he rests his head in your lap, looking like a happy cat as you scratch his head. Stormfrye playing by throwing something before going to fetch it.

“For what?” He asks never having felt so content and happy. You not having left his side since you arrived at summerhall, him teaching you high valaryan and just spending time together.

“Being so kind.” You say smiling down at the man who’s practically purring in your lap, loving attention.

“Huh, I’ve never been called that before.” He muses giggling when Stormfrye drops her toy onto his chest for him to throw.

-

“We look so hot.” Aerion says coming up behind you as you’re stood looking at yourself in your wedding dress his arms around your waist. “We’ll have beautiful hatchlings.”

“What if our children’s eggs don’t hatch?” You say, having worrying about it since the king brought up your future children and marrying your daughter to Valarrs son. Nether children even existing yet.

“They will, but if they don’t we’ll still have Stormfrye and I’ll still have you, my dragon queen.” He says placing a necklace on your neck, kissing your shoulder as he does so. The necklace having a dragon charm on it with an A engraved on a charm next to it. “You’re my everything.”

-

“What are you doing?” You ask half asleep seeing Aerion sneak out of bed to grab something, him only so visible because of the fire. Him turning quickly holding something close to his chest before slowly making his way back to the bed.

“This is brightflame.” Aerion say showing you the old toy dragon who’s red and clearly well loved. “Mother made him for me and I can’t sleep properly without him.”

“Hello brightflame.” You say to the toy, happy he’s opening up to you even more as this dragon is obviously very important to him. But also feeling guilty as he only told you because you found him. “Why isn’t he in bed with us?”

“You don’t mind?” He asks anxiously playing with the dragons wings.

Aerion leant forward, planting a gentle kiss on your lips. Once parted, he did not move his face, instead holding himself there as closely as he possibly could, the ghost of him still touching you.

He bit the inside of his mouth briefly in order to stop his grin from broadening.

“And why would that be?”

He had no idea why you had felt neglected by him; he had held your thigh, as usual. He had stared at you for the majority of the evening, as usual. He kissed and held you at every opportunity, as usual.

You pursed your lips and looked away from him. He let out a short yet meaningful exhale, and used both his index and middle finger to turn your chin so that your eyes looked upon him once more.

“Don’t do this to me.” He darkened his eyes, his fingers still holding your face.

“You spoke to that woman.” You replied shortly, your voice closer to a whisper than anything else.

Aerion searched every crevice of his mind to find the memory of what you had accused him of. He stared at you, more so staring through you as he tried. Your eyes stayed firmly to the side, yet you could not help but to flicker between the window and your husband’s handsome face.

Then, he remembered. When introduced to a nobleman’s- someone he could not care to remember the name of’s- daughter. The conversation was brief, and Aerion had been as cold and rude as he usually was.

But it meant that he had taken his attention away from you for a few minutes, which, in your humble opinion, was an unbelievably long amount of time.

“My darling,” he began, now using both hands to hold your face in front of his to ensure that both of your eyes locked directly into his own. “My father would have hit me before everyone if I had ignored her and her father completely.”

“You did not even hold my hand.” Your response came with haste, indicating that you were not truly listening to his words, just thinking of your own.

Aerion allowed his smile to shine through, and so it did. Like sunlight beaming through an open window, Aerion’s white teeth flashed as he laughed. He often found himself cursing at your spoilt ways, yet he could not hold the curses for too long; you were a product of his own making- and he truly, truly adored it.

The Prince loved how much his lady wife relied on him, adored him, and asked from him. Most of all, he loved the fact that he was able to give you everything that your heart so desired, and more.

Aerion had been known to do an array of ridiculous things in order to provide you with things that you wanted, regardless of how small or large.

Notably, if you were to ask anyone whom resided within Summerhall, they would tell you about the tale of summer. It had been a brief flash of winter- barely even that. For one moon exactly, the sun did not blaze as strongly as it usually would have, and you could not stand it at all.

You believed your gowns to be much too fine to be hidden away by a cloak, and in turn refused to wear one. Despite how many times your handmaidens advised that you would stop shaking if you simply applied another layer. Aerion too attempted to reprimand you every time he caught you leaving the warmth of the castle with bare arms.

“Well, my dragon, if you wish for me to be warm, then you must find a way to bring me it without flames.”

Your words came with a beautiful smile, and if it was anyone else who had requested such a thing, he would have laughed.

But you were not anyone else, and he understood the seriousness that you spoke.

And so, both his family and the servants watched in amusement as he attempted to bring you summer. Aerion and two of his men spent hours in the library searching books- a desperate attempt to find anything that would help.

Eventually, Aerion found a page in an old text that spoke of a mirror- when angled at the sky in a particular way, the sun would shine off of it, in turn allowing a beam to flow through a gap in an open or closed window.

Additionally, one of his men heard word of a sorcerer in Lys whom claimed to be able to make birds sing on command. He sent word to the sorcerer, yet they drove a hard bargain and refused to come. Naturally, Aerion had to offer a price three times as much as his original offer.

Regardless of price, it worked.

Everyone watched in disbelief as you entered the large hall that day, and saw your emerald and gold embroidered chair waiting for you, in a patch of direct sunlight. A corner of the hall had been cornered off, and inside of the corner were a dozen birds all singing a melodic tune. Next to your chair, was a large platter of your favourite cakes.

You had let out a squeal of excitement, and jumped on him happily, wrapping your legs around his waist as you engulfed him in a passionate kiss.

In that moment, Aerion did not care for the money that he had spent, nor the time that he had wasted, for all that mattered was the fact that he had pleased you, once again.

Aerion had fallen in love with you the very first moment that he laid his eyes on you. You seemed to be an angel in the form of a woman as you stood confidently between two guards. Despite your smaller frame in comparison to the two men, whom were both of a tall and broad stature, your aura stood twenty feet above them.

Prince Maekar, Aerion’s father, had found himself to be a sweaty mess the entire morning before your arrival; his son, the self proclaimed dragon, had always voiced his lack of need for both lust and love- claiming that any man whom dedicated himself to one woman was a coward. You, a high born, proud woman, would never stand for such treatment.

Prince Maekar knew that, and in turn, he dreaded the outcome.

He watched Aerion carefully, and watched as his darkened, dangerous eyes vanished, and in their place came brighter ones, in a paler shade of violet. He watched just as carefully as you ignored everyone else who welcomed you, asked you questions and attempted to provide you with assistance. You were rude, yes, but you were not there for them.

You were there for the white haired man with the chiselled face.

You stood directly before him, not even bothering to look at anyone whom sat beside him. With your shoulders back, and a flick of your long locks, you placed your hand in front of him without a word. Aerion had looked up at you, confused. You, in turn, furrowed your eyebrows and gestured towards your delicate hand that still lingered in front of his face.

Everyone watched in anticipation, for they knew that if anyone would ever try and force such a pleasantly upon Aerion, it would be bound to end badly.

Yet, to their surprise, he smirked. His eyes locked into yours, and yours into his. Keeping his eyes held into a prison of your own, he leant up, grabbed your hand and raised it, planting a slow kiss onto your soft skin.

"You're doing it again," he muttered.

"Doing what, your grace?"

"Being utterly oblivious."

You sat back on your heels, confused. "I'm sorry, my lord. I don't understand."

He grabbed your wrist. Holding you in place.

"I've been trying to seduce you for three months," he said. "Three. Months."

You blinked. "Seduce me?"

"Yes. Seduce you." His jaw tightened. "The touches. The lingering looks. The way I dismissed every other maid so you'd be the only one in my chambers. Did you not notice any of that?"

"I thought you just didn't like the others, my lord."

He stared at you. His violet eyes were dark, frustrated, burning.

"I don't like anyone," he said. "Except you."

Your heart stuttered. "Me?"

"Yes, you. You impossible, infuriating, beautiful girl."

He pulled you closer until you were straddling his lap, your hands braced on his shoulders.

"I'm going to kiss you now," he said. "And if you don't want it, you have three seconds to leave."

You didn't leave.

He kissed you hard and desperate, like he'd been holding back for years. When he finally pulled back, his chest was heaving.

"Do you understand now?" he asked.

You nodded, breathless.

"Good." He laid you back on the bed. "Because I'm not stopping this time."

Daeron - You had been assigned to help him to bed, a task no one else wanted because he tended to cry and cling. And an apparent handful after visiting the tavern.

But you didn't mind. He was gentle, even when his words slurred.

"Stay," he said, catching your hand as you tried to leave.

"I have other duties, my prince."

"No, you don't." He tugged you toward the bed. "I'm the prince. I say your only duty is to stay."

You sat on the edge of the mattress, letting him hold your hand. He pressed his face into your palm.

"You're so soft," he mumbled. "So warm. Why are you so nice to me?"

"Because it's my job, my lord."

"It's not your job. That’s optional.” He looked up at you, his violet eyes wet. "No one else is nice to me. Just you."

You didn't know what to say. You just sat there, stroking his hair.

He turned his head and pressed a kiss to your wrist.

"I want to marry you," he said.

You laughed, thinking it was the wine. But it was never about the wine. "You're drunk, your grace."

"I'm not that drunk." He sat up, his face inches from yours. "I've wanted you since the first day you brought me breakfast."

"My prince-"

"Daeron." He cupped your face. "Please. Just... let me hold you. One night."

You should have said no. You were a maid. He was a prince. But his eyes were so sad, and his hands were so gentle.

So, you stayed.

Duncan - Duncan was not subtle. He’s the least subtle person when it comes to romance.

He brought you wildflowers every morning. He carried heavy baskets for you without being asked. He smiled at you across the courtyard like a lovesick puppy.

You thought he was just being friendly.

"Thank you, ser," you said, taking the flowers. "You're very kind."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not trying to be kind."

"Oh? What are you trying to be?"

He stared at you. His ears went red.

"Courting you," he said.

You tilted your head. "Courting me?"

"Yes. Courting. You know... flowers. Walks. Holding hands." He gestured vaguely. "All of it."

"But you're a knight."

"And you're a maid. I don't care."

You stared at him. He stared back.

"I thought you were just being nice," you said.

His shoulders slumped. "I've been trying to court you for two months."

"Two months?"

"I brought you flowers every day. I carried your baskets. I asked about your family." He ran a hand through his hair. "What did you think was happening?"

You thought about it. "I thought you were just... friendly."

He let out a pained sound, half laugh, half groan.

He stepped closer, taking your hands.

"I'm not good with words," he said. "So I'm going to say this plainly. I want to be with you. Not as your knight. As your... whatever you'll let me be."

You looked down at your hands in his.

"I don't know what to say," you admitted.

"Say you'll think about it."

"I'll think about it."

He smiled, wide, bright, hopeful.

"That's all I ask."

Valarr - Valarr had been patient. He actually doesn’t know how he went on for this long.

For months, he had watched you work, dusting his books, cleaning his hearth, pouring his wine. He had left little gifts on your cart: a ribbon, a piece of honeycomb, a note folded small.

You always thanked him politely and went back to work.

Tonight, he found you in his chambers, stoking the fire. He stood in the doorway, watching the flames flicker across your face.

"You're beautiful," he said.

You looked up. "Thank you, my lord."

"Do you know why I keep you as my personal maid?"

"Because I'm efficient?"

He crossed the room and knelt beside you. "No. Because I'm in love with you. I always have.”

Your hand froze on the poker.

"Your grace-“

"Valarr." He took the poker from your hand and set it aside. "I've been trying to tell you for weeks. The gifts. The notes. The way I look at you."

You frowned. "I thought you were just being polite."

He laughed. "Polite?"

"You're a prince. Princes are polite."

He took your face in his hands. His mismatched eyes were soft, exasperated, adoring.

"I am not being polite," he said. "I am being desperately, pathetically in love with you."

You stared at him. "But I'm a maid."

"I don't care."

"You should care. You’re a prince.”

"I don't." He pressed his forehead to yours. "The only thing I care about is you."

You sat there, frozen, as he stroked your cheeks with his thumbs.

"Say something," he whispered.

"I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll stay. Not as my maid. As mine."

You looked into his mismatched eyes, and he looked into yours, searching for your reaction.

"Yes," you said.

He kissed you. Soft. Sweet. Full of months of waiting.

"Finally," he breathed against your lips.

He pulled you into his lap and held you there, the fire crackling beside you.

"I'm never letting you go," he said.

“You know this dragon?” The village leader asks, when you throw yourself between a pitchfork and the dragon. Knowing it won’t hurt her but not wanting to risk it. The man viewing you as the crazy ward of the village healer. Who admittedly was also a bit crazy when she was alive.

“Yes, she’s my friend. She doesn’t want to hurt anyone.” You say standing protectively in front of the bright blue dragon. The girl hissing when someone tries to touch you.

“Sure looks like it.” The man who tried to pull you away says sarcastically.

“If she wanted to hurt you you’d be dead.” You snap, pulling the pitchfork off the moron.

“Exactly, so we’d better kill the thing!” Someone else shouts, multiple others agreeing with the idea.

“No, if the Targaryens find out we’ll all be dead. Best have them deal with it.” The old woman who sells cattle says wisely. Not wanting to think about what would happen if the royal family found out the village killed a dragon.

“You want to pass a dragon over to the Targaryens?” The butchers boy shouts, his father slapping him over the head to shut up.

“What choice do we have?”

“Kill it!”

“Please.” You beg tears welling up in your eyes. “She’s good, I’ve kept her hidden for moons. We can leave and no one ever has to find out.”

“I’m sorry dear.” The village leader says giving you a sad smile before looking over to his wife. “Contact the Targaryens.”

-

“They’re clearly lying.” Aerion says riding his horse along side his father, uncle and kings guard. The three going to investigate the alleged dragon.

“I agree with Aerion it’s clearly bullshit.” Maekar says having dragged his second son along, not wanting to go himself but Baelor made him.

“We still have to check it out.” Baelor sighs wishing he brought Valarr, at least then it could be a nice father son trip. “We’ll go, smooth over their worries and go home.”

“So you also agree it’s bullshit, good.”

“Maekar-.”

-

“So where’s this dragon?” Maekar asks as soon as he dismounts his horse not even to do the introductions like Baelor. Aerion just looking at a peasant boy in disgust when he tries to touch the prince.

“I’m the caves your grace, we’ve got people on watch so it can’t leave with the girl.” The village leader says bowing in greeting, stumbling over his feet as he does so.

“What girl?” Aerion asks thinking even more that this whole thing is bullshit. Why would a dragon show themselves to some girl when he’s alive. It just doesn’t make sense.

“The one who found the dragon, she’s been keeping it secret for moons we only found out a few weeks ago your graces and we immediately sent word for you.” The leader over explains not wanting to get in trouble for possibly hiding a dragon.

“Have you actually seen this dragon or a you taking a crazy girls word for it?” Maekar asks deciding to take the lead, ignoring Baelor’s look.

“Oh we’ve seen it alright.” The butcher says with a scoff before Baelor can interject. “Vicious blue thing, it almost took my arm.”

“Yet you still have it.” Aerion says raising an eyebrow at the man who clearly still has both of his arms attached.

“Look just see for yourselves.”

-

“We’re coming in!” The village leader who Baelor learnt is called Dale shouts into the cave that has multiple ‘guards’ standing outside. Ser Roland being sent in first to check if it’s a trap.

“Holy shit.” The knight says from in the cave. “You might want to look at this your grace!”

Maekar and Baelor share a look before making their way into the cave, hands on weapons with Aerion following behind. When they reach the open area they are met with a light blue dragon with yellow lines shooting across it, looking like lightning. Curled up in the corner like it was trying to hide with you stood next to it looking like you’re guarding the mighty beast. “What the fuck.”

“Hello, this is stormfrye.” You say offering a small wave, not sure how to greet them.

“Marry me.” Aerion blurts out dropping to one knee in front of you. Making you blink at him in confusion, you thought the Targaryens would try and steal Stormfrye not marry you.

“I don’t know you.” You say tentatively not sure what to say to the pretty silver haired boy.

“That doesn’t matter.” He says looking at you and your dragon in wonder. “I love you.”

“Get up you pathetic boy.” Maekar says pulling his second son up by the arm. “Have some dignity.”

“That’s a dragon.” Baelor says staring at the beast who kept its eyes on you all.

“Yes.” You answer simply, scratching the dragons head.

“Right, how did you find this dragon?” Baelor asks after a moment. Not expecting there to actually be a dragon.

“I found Stormfrye when I was out looking for herbs during a storm and she was curled up crying, the poor girl looked so hungry. So I took her home and fed her.” You explain, like it’s an every occurrence to bring a dragon home and feed it back to heath. “And when she got too big for the house I took her here.”

“Right.” Baelor says, trying to think of what to do next.

“You’re not going to take her away from me are you?” You ask worried, loving the growing dragon. Who only got caught that day because she wanted to explore and got too close to town.

“Of course not! You’re my dragon queen.” Aerion says quickly trying to get closer to you but his father pulls him back.

“Aerion shut up.” Maekar snaps, looking back at you and your dragon. “We’re not leaving a dragon here.”

“You can come with us, I’m sure Stormfrye will need a familiar face.” Baelor offers, wondering how to even transport the thing. “Have you ridden her?”

“A few times around the cliffs.” You say fidgeting on the spot deciding not to mention the first attempt when you both fell into the sea.

“Then you’ll have to come with us.” Baelor tells you, still trying to think of where to house the dragon.

“Why?”

“You’re her rider.”

-

“I shall ride with you my dragonness.” Aerion says to you kissing the back of your hand, as you check you’ve got everything before you leave your village. No one coming to say goodbye, not that you’re surprised you’re always been seen as odd.

“Aerion stop being so fucking weird.” Maekar sighs, having no idea his second son could be so pathetic.

“That would actually be a good idea, Aerion you can show her the way.” Baelor says, having sent word to his father to meet at summerhall.

“Will two even fit?” Maekar asks looking at the relatively small dragon.

“I think so, we might just be a bit slower.” You say looking at stormfrye knowing your girl can handle it.

-

“Are you sure about this?” Maekar asks his older brother as they mount their horses. Waiting for you and Aerion to mount stormfrye.

“No, but who knows maybe when we get there you’ll have a daughter in law.” Baelor says looking at you and Aerion talking.

“I think I already do.” Maekar says looking at Aerion who’s got the biggest smile on his face as Stormfrye nudges him wanting his attention.

-

“We’ll marry as soon as we get to summerhall, I can’t wait to show everyone our dragon.” Aerion says as you fly through the sky, his arms wrapped around your waist.

“Can I get to know you first?” You ask, finding him weirdly endearing. You know he only wants you for stormfrye but he’s the first person you’ve been able to actually talk about stormfrye to. No one else caring that she doesn’t like eel or likes to play.

── .✮

robert franklin knew he shouldn’t have picked you up after you shift at the furniture store, especially because kat had basically forbade him from hanging out with you but that was before.

before he called for a break he felt they so desperately needed.

“bobby?” he heard your sweet voice and felt you run a hand through his hair which brought him back from his thoughts. “que te pasa? did something happen with kat? she asked to leave early today.” (what’s wrong?)

he had not been able to think straight for the last two days — of course he couldn’t, not when you had told them you were going to move to new york for a possible acting job in a few months, not when you can possibly forget all about him.

he should have never listened to kat who had begged and begged him to help you film that stupid auditioning tape.

he smiled and shook his head, all while nervously tapping his finger onto the counter. “i actually wanted to talk to you about th-“

clark had placed a big box of lamps onto the counter so it blocked bobby’s view of you, “you think you can put these downstairs before you go?”

“pues ya me quiero ir, pero ya que.” you sighed and grabbed two of the lamps. (well i wanted to leave but since you asked.)

he had looked at bobby with a look because he knew of the situation bobby, kat and you were in — the three of you constantly going to him for his secrecy and some advice, to which the three of you never seemed to listen to anyways.

“if you love kat, you will listen to her and stop seeing that girl.” he recalled giving bobby the advice to leave you alone after hearing an argument between kat and him.

another time he could think of was when you had asked if they seemed happy together. “well they were until you came along.” and when he saw you practically frown he cleared his throat. “no offense, it’s just they’ve been arguing about you.”

you didn’t like being the reason of them having problems so when you started thinking about auditioning for a show in new york, clark encouraged it. “go for it, there’s nothing grand about this town anyways.”

clark didn’t really want to see you go, he had actually grown to like you very much — you were his best saleswoman.

way better than him anyways.

he had grown to like you but he knew you at some point would move onto something new, you had constantly told them you were never in a place for too long — you didn’t have family, not much of a friend person and you lived in an apartment close to the store so he naturally fell into a fatherly figure role for you.

then he recalled back to when kat was going on about why he just had to hire you. “because you told me you needed another girl around here, i could barely afford to pay you or bobby for helping me with my commercials but i did you a favor.”

and when he accidentally let your plans slip to kat she was overjoyed. “bobby can help her and she can finally leave!” she did a little jump and high fived him. “good work clark!”

“that’s not what i was try-“ she ran off before he could finish so he groaned and dropped himself onto a chair. “i’m getting too old for this shit.”

── .✮

kathrine taylor had been suspicious of bobby possibly cheating on her just a few months after you arrived into town.

“she’s just a friend kat, our friend.” he had placed a quick kiss on her forehead. “you have nothing to worry about.”

but she saw the way his eyes would linger on you when he thought she wasn’t looking, the lingering touches or the random visits he would do to the furniture store.

“brought you guys some lunch!” he would say kissing her on the cheek and going straight for you afterwards. “and for you i brought you a champurrada with a pan dulce!” (sweet bread)

“it’s champurrado…” you laughed as you corrected him and took the drink from him. “you didn’t have to, the shop is almost all the way across town bobby.”

while you guys were chatting, kat sighed looking down at her strawberry smoothie.

yeah he won’t be allowed around you anymore after today.

so finally when you announced that you were wanted for a live audition in new york, kat was over the moon — whereas bobby knew you would do great over there and they would definitely want you but he couldn’t seem to cheer up, he knew you’d forget all about him.

“well what can you do, she will be missed.” kat sighed and quickly changed the subject. “now that you’re almost finished with your film class, maybe we can go to th-“

“we need to breakup, i mean more of a break.”

kat knew it had everything to do with you even though he didn’t want to admit it but she trusted you to not go behind her back.

then there was bobby who was hugging a crying kat, already planning how he can get through to you and become more than friends.

── .✮

for the past month, bobby couldn’t get you out of his head and found himself seeking you out more, you had slowly been letting him after finding out kat and him were officially over.

you had been organizing the furniture when bobby took a seat on a recliner and pulled you onto his lap. “so where’s clark?”

he was glad when you finally let him touch you more, it only took an accidental slip up of him telling you that he had liked you — he was able to hold your hand as you guys walked. slide down his hand onto the small of your back whenever the two of you were standing next to each other. pulling you into his lap even if there were millions of other chairs around.

you shrugged as his thumb hooked itself to the waistband of your shorts. “trying to fix his marriage supposedly, told me to watch over the store and close up.”

weeks later when clark finally returned again, he was pacing around putting things in a bag like tools and extra clothes.

he tried to quickly explain he was leaving for a few weeks but he didn’t want to say where. “look i’ll be back and when i’m back…” clark went on as grabbed papers and a pen, almost out of breath. “i need you, bobby and kat to have made up with whatever the hell you guys have got going on because i’ll be needing you three for some research.”

── .✮

during the second month, bobby was now getting the cold shoulder from you — he stood behind you as you talked to a customer who was totally hitting on you, he tried wrapping his arm around you but you swatted his hand away.

“dejame and please just leave the store, i got it on my own.” you quietly mumbled out and moved away from him. (leave me alone)

he had invited you over to his house for dinner about two weeks ago and it was going well, way too well.

“f-fuuck. shit, baby you feel so good right now…” he moaned as he felt your gummy walls tighten around his cock each time he’d slam back into you and just before he almost finished, there was a hard knock on the door.

the both of you chose to ignore it but then another knock but harder.

he stopped his movements, leaving you to groan and tried to keep him from stopping.

“bobby! open up, i want my things back!”

he’s been telling kat for weeks now to come get her stuff and of course she chooses now to get it.

you sat up and wrapped the sheets around you. “que cosas quiere?” (what things does she want?)

his spanish was not great so he didn’t know what you had said but he noticed the hint of anger in your voice. “what?”

just before you could answer there was another knock. “for fuck-sake kat! hold on!”

he of course had her things already packed in a box, it wasn’t like he had her stuff around but you didn’t see it that way.

you had packed your overnight bag back up and as much as he pleaded with you to stay the night, you were ready to go.

“c’mon believe me baby, i only want you…”

you shook your head no. “whatever this was it’s over, i’ll be leaving to new york whenever we finish doing whatever it is that clark wants us to do when he returns.”

he quickly ran to the door and got on his knees in front of you. “please don’t say that, i lo-“

“bobby enough! you still have your ex-girlfriend’s things here, you can’t even ask me properly to be your girlfriend…”

which led you to now.

it was closing time and you were in the office organizing papers when you saw bobby had came back with a bouquet of flowers, so once you finished you grabbed your bag and began heading to the door — he was still waiting outside, when suddenly he started swatting the flowers around and his other free hand as well.

you laughed once you saw a small moth flying around him and the petals were beginning to fall off the flowers.

when he was done, you finally walked out and began locking the door to the furniture store. “is the coast clear?” you asked with a giggle.

“i’m glad you think this is funny, i had a whole apology speech ready to go when this stupid moth began attacking me.” he groaned looking down at the now ruined bouquet. “even wanted to ask you out…”

he was such an idiot.

you smiled as you helped him remove some petals off his hair. “pobrecito.” (poor thing.)

he frowned and extended his arms out to you. “yeah pobrecito me.”

you rolled your eyes and gave in, hugging him a little too tightly but he didn’t seem to care.

── .✮

it wasn’t long before you guys were in the backseat of your car, the moment you sank down onto him, you were rolling your hips and he threw his head back onto the headrest.

“holy fuck, you’re so...fucking good.” he found it hard to come up with the right words as you picked up the pace, rolling your hips and doing an occasional circle. “please s-slow down, im going to cum and i haven’t even started with you y-yet.”

you moaned softly as you dug your nails into his shoulders. “you’re so big bobby..”

“hold on, s-slow down.” and just before you could pickup the pace again he brought down one of his hands to your thigh, stopping you from moving and another to your face to force you to look at him. “te amo..” (i love you)

he saw the way your pupils were blown out and you let out a broken whine. “yo tambien te amo.” (i love you too)

he sloppily jerked himself up into you a few times before flipping you onto your back and making sure he was now the one to ruin you.

by the time you were done, it was almost pitch black in the parking lot but the both of you noticed a small light in the furniture store.

“hm. you forgot to turn off a light.” bobby pointed out before drinking out of his water bottle and passing it to you.

“huh. thought i turned them all off, that’ll be tomorrow’s problem.”

✮

finally when the both of you were tucked into bed and his arm was draped around you, you were almost asleep but could still hear him softly talking.

“after doing this research thing with clark, i’ll come with you to new york and help you settle down, maybe i can even stay there with you for awhile…”

you nodded. “maybe, i’ll skip out on the recall and stay here with you.”

“not going to let you miss that audition baby.” he hugged you tighter and kissed the side of your head. “if anything maybe i’ll pickup another film class over there so i can be with you…”

he went on about different plans you guys could work out in new york and when he knew you were sleeping, he kissed the side of your head once again and listed his last plan. “i want to love you till the end of my life.”

little did he know was that in a few days that was the only plan he would actually be able to complete…

©𝟒𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞. all rights reserved. please do not; duplicate, reupload or claim my work as your own.

“Luca babe, the baby is the size of a blueberry!” You showed him the app on your phone. “Isn’t that cute!”

This app had become your obsession. You’d found out you were pregnant at 4 weeks (poppy seed) and made an occasion out of it. Each week you’d open the app and tell Luca how big your little baby was. You’d always hold the app with the picture over your stomach and coo at it.

He found it adorable how excited you’d get and how you’d call the baby little proceeded by whichever seed or fruit it was this week.

“That’s adorable, my love.” Luca responded and kissed you, kissed your stomach. “Our baby blueberry”

***

At work it was all he could think about, his baby, a little blueberry in your womb and before he knew it, he’d drawn up a new dessert and was packing it up. This wasn’t for the menu or for noma. This was all for you and his little baby blueberry.

He presented it to you when he arrived home that afternoon, grinning proudly.

“Blueberry tart with vanilla cream,blueberry sorbet and wild water mint. For my blueberry”

You’d of course cried as the baby hormones were playing havoc with your emotions. Luca, your darling, sweet, perfect Luca had instantly panicked and worried he’d set off your sickness and was at your side asking if it was the taste or the smell or something and offering to go out and get you anything you needed.

You’d sobbed and clung to him and when the tears had subsided, you’d told him it was the sweetest thing and you loved it.

He’d even smeared the cream into a heart and walked back from noma rather than risk it getting dented in the car or on a bus or train, which set you off again.

How could he be so perfect, so doting, so affectionate and so yours.

Luca had kissed you, grinned at how adorable your tears were and insisted he fed it to you on the deck of the boat under the stars.

****

The next week, the little blueberry had become a little raspberry and Luca brought home a whole batch of raspberry danishes. A classic pastry staple but you’d loved it all the same.

It was followed a grape syrup mousse for week nine which Luca spoon fed you in bed. A sticky date pudding when the tenth week rolled around. Week eleven was a lime pandan cake and for your twelve week scan when the baby had reached the size of a plum, Luca spent hours creating a spiced plum clafoutis, which he closed down the restaurant early to present to you.

Each dessert was so lovingly made and Luca began to love the challenge of creating a new dessert and even downloaded the app on his own phone so he could find out too.

After a kiwi sorbet on the thirteenth week fed to you as you walked along the canal and the honey roasted peach with almonds in the park for the fourteenth, Luca managed to convince you to delete the app and let him surprise you with the baby size. You were only all too happy to give up the app, if it meant your lovely Luca getting to surprise you.

By the fifteenth week, he’d laboured an extra two hours one evening to bring you home the first surprise size; Spiced poached pears with hot chocolate and pepper sauce. With anyone else, their husband working later whilst they were pregnant would have been an annoyance that they were working when they should have been painting the babies room or building a cot but with Luca, you fell more and more in love with him with every dessert. You knew whatever he was working on would be extra special. He loved you, loved the bump.

The sixteenth week brought avocado bars that you’d store in the fridge and end up snacking on for the rest of the week. You didn’t usually like avocado but as if your baby knew, you began craving it like crazy. Luca was apprehensive when the avocado picture popped up, nervous about this weeks dessert being based around a food you were never too keen on, but when he’d given you the tray of them you’d greeted him and the bars with the same enthusiasm as you had every other week.

Week seventeen brought a naval orange parfait served to you as Luca painted the spare room on the boat in a beautiful soft yellow. A perfect neutral for your baby. He’d built a cot by hand too and kept pausing to kiss you to thank you for the baby.

As week eighteen rolled around he’d presented you with a white chocolate pomegranate dessert and on that same day, you’d discovered the sketch book.

If he wasn’t a chef, you’d have sworn he could have been an artist. He’d drawn landscapes of Nyhaven or drawn colourful pretty flowers or feathers for you to get tattooed or doodles that would wind up as one of his own tattoos. Sometimes, he’d drawn you. Soft hair over your face as you slept, the curve of your now prominent bump that he’d talk to every night and kiss every morning before work.

Luca had always told you he was no good at school, bunked off too much to be good with Maths or English or Science, but with how precise, perfect, passionate he was about baking you knew he had to have had a creative soul so it was no surprise his art was almost as beautiful as his desserts.

In his newest sketchbook, he’d had drawn every dessert before making it. Perfect, beautiful artist style drawings and next to each one he’d dated it and written the week and the fruit and how many days until your due date.

“Luca” you bit your lip looking down at the sketch book.

“What is it darling?” He’d been busy working in your kitchen on week nineteen. From the smell that lingered on his skin and in the kitchen, you knew it would be one of your favourites. Mango.

“Are you okay? Is the baby okay, my love?”

He’d placed down the bowl and rushed the length of the houseboat to tilt your chin up to look at him with one hand and place the other on your growing bump. He was shirtless, plaid pajama pants hanging sinfully low on his hips. You could see one of the many matching tattoos you shared scattered over his side. His vows to you down his left.

His eyes fell on the notebook and he ducked his head, blush dusting over his cute freckled cheeks. You loved when you could see his freckles, and your head instantly went to picturing a little baby with freckles just like him.

“Spoilers darling” he reached for the book. “We are putting these in a baby book when they’re born”

Needing him there and then, you caught his arm and pulled him down for a long lingering kiss, pressing up on tiptoes to meet him half way.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous Luca.”

You stated before you pressed up on tiptoes and pulled him down into a long, lingering kiss.

“Need to kiss you”

His hand tangled up in your hair and his tongue pressed lazily against yours.

“And you’re so beautiful with my baby inside you” he muttered into your mouth.

God, he was even supporting you on tiptoes one handed, another strong muscular arm around your waist.

You continued like that. A soft intimate make out session, you pressed against him until week nineteens mango bavarois with your favourite passionfruit compote was ready and Luca would pick you up in his toned strong arms like you weren’t several months pregnant, sit you on the counter, stand between your legs and kiss between spoons of it.

***

“Remember at your scan last week, we put the gender in an envelope?” Luca asked you as you walked through the city on your twentieth week.

You remembered and tilted your head. “Yeah I remember…”

“So baby is the length of a banana…or a carrot” Luca explained and then paused. “I have a lovely surprise for you, my darling…I’ve asked one of the chefs to make this weeks. Banana for a boy or erm…carrot for a girl” he smiled softly.

“Like a dessert gender reveal?” You asked, a little smile playing on your lips. He was so thoughtful. That was so Luca and you loved it

“Yeah see, I wanted to keep doing your desserts and I thought it would be a really amazing way to reveal babies gender.”

“Luca you are such a dork, I love you”

Luca broke out into a lob sided grin

“He’s delivering it to the boat today. I know what you’d be like if I picked it up, you’d tease me and ask if I peeked.”

“I know you wouldn’t peek!” You exclaimed “You said you wanted us to find out together!”

“I do darling and we will…soon”

That night, Luca went all out. He lit candles, set up the table and gave you a back rub before his chef dropped off the

“They’re here my love.” Luca said as he turned, two plates with a dome each covering “don’t worry, it’s not twins” he smiled and you rolled your eyes at his playful joke.

“If it was you’d be making me double the desserts!”

He laughed and kissed you before placing yours down and then his.

“What do you want Luca?” You asked him and noticed the blush dusting over his cheeks

“I, uh, really don’t mind, my love…” Luca said but he’d always been a terrible liar and you could tell he had a preference. “Remember darling, banana for a boy and carrot for a girl. On three okay?” He said calmly although you could tell his heart was racing.

You counted down together and lifted the dome lids

“Oh!”

Before you on the plate was an expertly crafted carrot and buckwheat cake, so well designed that you could tell this chef had learnt from Luca.

“Baby girl” was written on each plate.

“Darling…it’s a girl!” Luca looked up at you so full of love, his beautiful soft blue eyes wet and gentle, his smile soft and filled with love. “It’s a girl!” He instantly came over to your side, “a baby girl” he kissed you sweetly and then dropped to his knees and kissed your bump. “Hello my little darling.” He repeated. “I already love you so much, I love you both”

Luca got up, linking your hands and kissed you again over and over before helping you up and leading you to the bedroom where he lay you on the bed and lavished you with love.

“I wanted a girl.” He whispered into your neck later that night “thank you so much for my baby”

“Knew it” you said back as you pulled him back against you.

****

Finding out the gender made it all the more real. All the beautiful that desserts that came in the form of coconut press, followed by a grapefruit pannacotta. Luca, of course, made sure it was a pink grapefruit to symbolise the baby girl.

It was the following week that you first felt the baby kick. In the previous weeks, there’d been flutters here and there but nothing too noticeable.

“I know you must be so uncomfortable my love and please don’t think I’m selfish…” he said as he rubbed your calves on a seat on the boat as you balanced a bowl of papaya cake on your bump. “But you look so beautiful pregnant, I adore the bump”

“You’re obsessed with the bump” you laughed playfully.

Your bump had well and truly popped. It had gone from looking a little pregnant to looking well and truly pregnant. Luca had, as you’d expected, became completely obsessed with the bump.

“Can you blame me? It’s my little baby in there. My little papaya.” He patted it lightly and the bowl wobbled.

“Luca!” You laughed steadying the bowl.

“That wasn’t me that time!” He squeezed your calf and then it dawned on him.

“Was that?” His blue eyes lit up meeting yours and you nodded.

“Think so.” You nodded and quickly lifted the bowl off your bump and put his hand over it, placing yours over his. It was unmistakable this time. The baby kicking.

It could have been ten minutes or an hour of you just sitting like that.

“Love…” Luca’s eyes began tearing up and you leant forward to wipe them. “That’s our baby in there. Our baby. My little baby” Luca rubbed his hand back and forward over, the fondest, most reverent expression on his face as the baby kicked again.

“Maybe she’ll grow up to be a footballer.” Luca said a little hopefully. “Future Lioness captain” he remarked causing you to start laughing.

That was so Luca. He’d never push the kid but of course that would be his first thought.

“Let’s let her finish cooking and start walking before you sign her up to football clubs in Copenhagen okay?”

Luca put his head gently over the bump speaking directly to it. “I already love you so much.” He kissed it before he rose and kissed you “And I’ve loved you my whole life.”

****

The last few weeks seemed to fly through in a mix of desserts including pineapple upside down cake, cantaloupe roll, and candied pumpkin.

You’d picked a name and the babies nursery was all but set. Luca had reassured you that; no it absolutely was not silly to want an ocean waves noises machine despite that you lived on a boat and yes you had the overnight bag packed for weeks. Luca being perfect Luca had even packed a spare one he’d taken to keeping in the car so he’d never need to run back to boat and leave you if you were to go into labour at any time.

It was the night before your due date, you sat with Luca on your boat, lying back against him, head on his chest as he had one hand on your bump and using the other to gently toy with the ends of your hair. Millefeuille with a mix of watermelon and melon rested on your legs.

“Hey” you tipped your head back on against him.“Baby might be here tomorrow.” You whispered low and quiet in the evening “Scared?”.

“Nah.” Luca shook his head “It’s my baby with my darling. Feels like everything is finally falling into place, like it’s the one additional perfect thing we needed.”

Luca would have thought he’d be terrified.

He didn’t know how to be a parent after all. His own father had dipped when he was three. After that there’d been his mums boyfriend James from when he was five to nine. He’d been a nice guy from what he remembered but eventually they’d split too. “Uncle James” had promised to still take Luca and his sister out but eventually the contact dwindled down and it was just the odd Arsenal game or a card on Christmas and eventually even that stopped and then eventually Luca hadn’t seen him since he was eleven.

So it was even to his own surprise that he wasn’t nervous. Not at all. To Luca, you carrying a baby that was his just made sense.

“I just know in my heart this is so right for us” He said, a look of love in his eyes “I love this baby and they’re not even here yet and you know I loved you the moment I met you…Loving you…having this baby with you is the most natural thing I’ve ever felt.”

He leant forward and stole a kiss from your tilted lips.

“I can’t wait my love.”

Seven minutes ago, you were sipping champagne, laughing with your cousins, letting the band’s cover of Sugar by Maroon 5 carry you into that familiar warmth weddings are supposed to have. Then Sydney just had to lean in, casual enough to pretend she wasn’t stirring the pot, and mention that Luca was definitely going to be the new stage at The Bear.

Now?

Your back is against the cold porcelain countertop, heels slipping against the tile as Luca’s frame crowds yours. Somewhere between your third “you’re better than this!” and his clipped “you don’t get to tell me that!” his hands had found the hem of your dress, and silk is now pooled around your hips. 

You’re both glaring, eyes locked, daring the other to blink first.

“I thought you were joking, but you’re serious — you’re really going to be a stage? At his restaurant?” Your voice echoes through the tiled room, sharp and incredulous. 

Luca doesn’t say anything, mouth screwed shut. His hand is braced beside your hip, the other grazing black lace — the panty he insisted you wear tonight. His fingertips slide the flimsy fabric to the side, letting the cool air hit your most sensitive area.

Your fingers curl against the counter, nails biting the surface, holding onto your anger to keep you steady. To keep you anchored. It’s your cousin’s wedding, for fucksakes. It’s practically a family reunion after years spent in Copenhagen with Luca while he chased, and caught, his dream of being a chef. You’re supposed to be mingling, drinking champagne, catching up, delivering a speech in about twenty minutes…

Not pinned in a bathroom with a needy cunt.

“It’s humiliation, Luca. You’re better than Carmen, and you know it.”

The more you poke, the more you prod, the heavier his silence grows. And Luca just stares at you in a flat, bored way. He’s done with the argument. Your words mean nothing to him, yet you’re still dragging it out. You grit your teeth, pulse thrumming.

It’s impossible to look away. He’s dressed too well for this fight. Black slacks, black collared shirt, hair styled to perfection. Fabric clinging and cutting in all the right places.

Luca looks untouchable.

Every inch of him screams control — making it harder to resist, and even harder to remember why you’re supposed to be angry when he looks like this, and smells like smoke and spice and something so distinctly him. 

Then, Luca lifts two fingers to his mouth. 

The wet sound of him coating them in saliva is obscenely loud in the tiny bathroom. Your stomach twists, heat rushing even lower, because he doesn’t look away. 

Not once. 

The connection is so palpable it makes your skin prickle — Luca is doing this on purpose. All because you picked a fight with him, because you dared to tell him he’s better than your cousin. 

“This is about you proving something to him, not to yourself." you murmur, your voice faltering.

His fingers pop out of his mouth. Your chest stutters.

He drops them to your slit, peeling you apart. He starts just below your clit, gliding in an endless give and take motion — nothing about the way Luca touches you is careless. It’s dedication. Years spent mapping your body, so of course he knows the exact pressure it takes to make you gasp.

Your hand closes around his wrist, meaning to stop him, to push him away. 

But you can’t. 

Because you’re not in control. Luca is.

And he knows it. 

The glint in his eyes tells you he feels the shift, feels as you lean into it. Into him.

“And if it is? What then?” He finally speaks, voice low enough that it scrapes over your skin.

His thumb ghosts over your clit, never makes contact. He knows your reaction by heart: a sharp inhale through your nose followed by a ragged exhale, squeezed through clenched teeth.

But he’s taken back by your harsh words.

“Then you’re not the Luca I thought you were.”

The real insult? 

His pupils don’t even dilate. Just that same bored, ‘are you done?’ stare before muttering, “Mmm, wrong answer. Try again.”

Then, he circles your clit, just once. 

Your body jolts, and you try to cover it with a useless scoff, “Well, the Luca I know wouldn’t go back to be a fucking stage.” 

A muscle feathers in his jaw. Not anger. Not even annoyance. Just tired. So fucking tired of your persistent inability to understand him. One by one, Luca plucks his fingers away, leaving behind a glistening trail of ache.

Then, he moves.

Clutching your waist. Hauling you up. Setting you on the counter. Slotting his body between your knees. Cold porcelain biting your ass. Breath rushing out of your lungs. Hands gripping his shoulders for balance.

The bathroom is suddenly too small, and too hot. Music and laughter filter in through the walls, muffled but close. You vaguely register the risk of being caught, but none of it tears you away from Luca. 

He tips your chin up, inspecting your flustered defiance at being manhandled.

“Go on, then. Define me some more, baby,” Luca orders, voice dark, hand dropping to his belt, flicking it open before working on his zipper. “You know how I hate half-assed prep work.” 

Your throat bobs once. No words come. You’re still, silent, trapped by the certainty in his eyes that he has you right where he wants you. Every thought you had is gone, wiped out by the weight of his cock resting on your plush cunt, panty still shoved to the side.

“Let me guess… ‘Too proud to stage’ but just humble enough to fuck you in a bathroom?”

There’s no slow build, no easing in. Just a deep, hungry thrust. Nails digging into his arms. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, clamping around a gasp. Walls squeezing, adjusting. Every exhale comes out as a thin, nasally whine. Brows furrowing together, each line a whisper of it hurts. 

Luca lifts a hand, fingertips slowly tracing them. His touch is light, teasing, and infuriatingly intimate. You flinch, slapping him away. 

He smirks a little, daring you to try again.

“Luca, you can’t just—nngh, fuck—”

He shoves deeper, forcing your gummy walls to expand for him. Luca loves how your cheeks puff out, round and straining, fighting to stay quiet. Even after all these years, you still can’t handle his stupidly fat cock.

It’s cute. 

Your hand drops to his stomach, trying to signal that you need him to stop, that he can’t just take what he wants. He halts, pulls out a little, lets your cunt flutter around his tip instead.

His calloused hand cradles your jaw, grip just shy of painful. His thumb traces your bottom lip, admiring how lightly it quivers beneath his touch. 

“Can’t what, baby?” His gaze lingers, all honeyed and sweet.

You fix him with a glare that’s not really a glare. It’s heady, full of heat and frustration, trying to regain control over the situation you created. 

“Is it too much?” His head tilts, just enough for the bathroom light to crown him. Gold-lit hair, sharp angles, and that permanent, teasing smirk. 

Luca looks impossibly perfect. Entirely in control.

You nod, a little. A soft mewl escaping.

“Oh, that’s too bad…” He rocks forward, cock devouring the space inside you again. You wince, breath hitching. It’s too much. The friction. The burn. You feel dizzy. Lightheaded. Invaded beyond comprehension. 

But it's also everything you ever wanted.

Luca watches, mesmerized, as your face reddens. His finger taps your swollen cheek, pressing just enough to make your lips part in a gasp. 

“Adorable,” he murmurs, “But I’m going to need you to breathe, baby.” 

He holds your gaze, waiting for your lungs to cooperate again. When they finally sort of work, he whispers, “Good girl.” 

His praise liquifies your bones.

Then, you feel the slick drag, inch by inch, of him withdrawing. Leaving nothing to clench. Your face twists into panic — is Luca just going to leave you like this — cunt empty. Sticky. Drooling.

Your fingers dig into his shirt, tugging at him. Your eyes start to water, trying to reason with him, “If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t have said anything. I just don’t want your talent to go to waste working as a stage again.”

You whimper. It’s sad, and pathetic. 

“Luca, please—”

“Mmhm, gonna have to cover that pretty little mouth,” Luca places his palm firmly over your mouth, the heel of his hand pressing against your cheek while the other hand locks onto your waist, holding you in place, “Or the entire wedding is going to hear you.”

With a single thrust, he splits you open. You writhe beneath him, grunting words that get caught between your lips and his palm. 

Wait. Please. S’fucking big.

He doesn’t stop, giving you every fucking inch, burning through your limits until there's no room left, until he's completely buried at the hilt. Luca licks the tear spilling down your cheek, and lets out a low hum of pleasure, “Fuck—tight little thing still can’t take me, huh?” 

You don’t answer him. You can’t. He’s knocked any and all sense out of you. Your chest just arches into his, neck tipping back. Luca uses his weight and strength to cage your body against his, and, he fucks you. 

Each thrust is a reminder that he’s the one who’s spent hours plating dishes you can’t even pronounce. That he’s the one who lifted, endured, broken his body into muscle and precision until it became second nature. 

“Tell me, was it the 16-hour days where you watched me bleed that makes you think I’m too good to get my hands dirty as a stage again? Or are you just going to miss being the only one who gets to taste my best work?” His fingers dig into the soft yielding flesh of your hip, body angling impossibly closer.

“Be honest, baby. I know you hate sharing.” Luca growls, tearing into the resistance like it's nothing, cock hitting that spot now — your eyes roll back, and your moans vibrate against his hand. He works it over and over and over. Showing no mercy as a hot, insistent pressure builds that's too tight. Too much.

You’re right there, walls pulsating with the promise of release that never comes. Because Luca has pulled away, leaving you a shattered, ruined thing of almost.

A wet, broken sound crawls up your throat. It’s half-gasp, half-sob.

It makes him laugh, a soft, disbelieving sound. 

“Oh, did you want something?”

You nod, a bit too desperately. Maybe even a little bit humiliated too. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have picked a fight over nothing.”

His hand that seals your mouth is a brand, a reminder you can’t shake. Each slow flex of his fingers tells you that he’s the one who’s spent years perfecting pressure, and restraint. 

He shakes his head, tsking, “Some insignificant bullshit just to hear yourself talk.”

Your stifled disagreement earns you a hard grind of his hips. It’s just enough to make your toes curl, but not enough to send you over the edge.

This is where Luca keeps you, teetering on the edge, denied.

Because he likes this part.

Like the way your hips jerk, desperate, when he pulls back. Likes the way your lashes flutter, the furrow of your brows, the tension in your neck. He sees it all. Feeds on it. He could end this anytime. But why would he? Watching your thighs quake with the need he refuses to satisfy is half the fun.

And just to prove how practiced he is, how effortless his control is, Luca eases up. Penetration becomes shallow. Only giving you an inch, maybe two. Taking his fucking time, making every second count — again, again, again — until your nearly wrecked cunt starts making lewd, squelching noises and you’re clawing at him, whining in frustration.

A bead of sweat traces down the sharp angle of Luca’s jaw. He doesn’t wipe it away, doesn’t even flinch. Too busy holding the line, too busy forcing you to stay in this dizzy, aching place a heartbeat longer. 

The sweat is the only thing that gives him away. The only crack in his control. And you’d worship it, if he’d let you. 

“I know how to stage. I know how to be a chef.” Luca leans in, close enough for you to feel the heat of his words. “And I know I’m fucking good at it.”

He drags your hand to your stomach, covering it with his own, and presses down. Then, his hips snap forward. And you can feel the faint outline of his cock as it spears your cunt, owning you.

It makes you shudder.

“I’m not doing this to prove myself to Carmen — I’m doing this because he needs a chef like me in his kitchen.” Luca’s throat moves like he’s forcing down glass, tendons standing rigid under his skin. A swallow that’s too loud, too telling. But his eyes are worse. They’re bright with something feverish, pupils swallowing the light. 

“I know I’m better than him in every way that matters.”

His hand stays firm as he kisses the corner of your mouth — a mockery of tenderness. 

“Do you understand, baby?”

Only then does Luca lift his palm.

“—yes, chef—”

A knock rattles at the bathroom door.

You practically choke on your answer, eyes going wide with panic. Luca doesn’t seem to care, smoothing his hand over your mouth again, steady and calm, as if he’d been expecting it. 

“Hey, you in there?” It’s your cousin. Carmen. “Your speech is coming up...”

You twist, a muffled sound pressing into Luca's skin, but he just looks at you. Totally unbothered. Then, without missing a beat, his voice lifts, casual and lazy, “No, she’s not in here…”

Luca smiles. It’s not sharp or cruel, but boyish. Soft in a way that completely disarms you, like he’s not the same man whose throbbing cock is still buried inside your cunt. He lingers, eyes sweeping your face before finally easing out. The loss is immediate, the ache cutting into the space just below your navel.

“Luca?” It slips out as a plea, a question you don't even know how to finish. You're half-undone, wound so tight. Head buzzing, blood thrumming hot in your ears. Desperate for the rest of him.

Luca just steadies you, patient, hands firm as he helps you down from the counter. Your legs wobble when your feet hit the ground, knees nearly give, and it makes him smile again — quiet, and infuriating. He knows exactly how wrecked you are.

With one hand lingering at your hip to keep you up right, Luca crouches low, helping to slip your heels back on, fixing the straps with sure fingers, like he’s dressing a doll he isn’t finished playing with yet. As Luca rises, he sweetly adjusts your black lace panty before smoothing your dress down over your thighs with those sure, capable hands. Tugging at the fabric until it lies flat, until there’s no evidence of what he just did, of what he almost finished.

“You’re fine,” Luca says softly, though you know he's lying.

You're ruined.

Your father aided him — breaking his first promise.

The hedge knight did not yield, instead beating Aerion down into surrender despite his severe wounds — and away it all shattered, his promises to you, his dignity, and your family's reputation.

He's wronged you, your uncle, your father—everyone—for making you appear so… so mad and weak that you would lose all composure from a made-up insult borne out of a mediocre performance of an even more mediocre tale that had nothing to do with you.

It was beyond you how he could have found it insulting.

Tullies ate fish all the fucking time did they not? Starks have killed countless dogs—oh… excuse you… they have killed wolves before—so what was the fucking problem?

Not to mention, that puppet show was obviously a farce, everyone knew dragonfire could melt down the strongest of metals, to depict some lowly knight actually managing to slay a dragon was clear-cut humor, he should've laughed, obviously it was a comedy.

If only he did just that. It would have saved everyone a whole lot of pain, headaches or otherwise.

But that was a while ago—now, you had to deal with a new set of pains. You missed him, egotistical annoying brat that he was, but he was yours, your handsome brother and dearest love.

It was hard to get used to, you used to be inseparable, never one without the other, he gladdened you as much as he aggravated you, and he aggravated you as much as he made you feel so damn good. You thought you could go without his cock and his filthy tongue, but your body couldn't help it — it couldn't help but call to it's other half.

Touching yourself was not enough, your fingers could never reach the spots his own did, they didn't make you feel the pleasure you felt when you rode his face, not even your best pillows got emulate the feeling of his mouth devouring you.

You needed him so badly, you needed him to fill the emptiness inside you—but he should be begging for you to fuck him, he should be grovelling for your forgiveness, a princess shouldn't have to demand it, this obedience is to be expected, it should be given freely.

But he refused — his pride wounded from everything, from his loss at ashford and your casting aside of him.

Well… he can pout and sulk all he wants, he cannot keep acting this way forever. One way or another he will give in, you could see it in the way he stared at you, no matter how hardheaded he acted he could never hide his true feelings from you.

His eyes were not as deceptive as he believed them to be, you were certain he would crumble eventually.

For now, you had a castle to run in your brother's stead before your father comes home from King's landing. When he gave the reigns to Daeron, he must have hoped it would teach him how to be a lord, make him more serious—it didn't, sadly.

You were hoping for it too, you were tired of seeing him like this, but you supposed some things can't be helped, so you took his place, and honestly, the management of it wasn't as difficult as you thought it would be, it wasn't the problem.

The problem lied with managing it AND your siblings together.

Daeron's issue lied with his tendency to sneak off unauthorized to pleasure houses and inns, if not, he would be too deep in his cups to do anything he's bid, thus the predicament you were in.

And Daella… there was no problem with Daella, she was an angel who can do no wrong. She's been rather helpful in fact, reading out the gist of any important letter to you.

Rhae though? She was running you ragged with her demands, unhappy with how you didn't agree to her every order request, unhappy that your father left, demanding you send her to King's landing with him.

Your simple, humble and calm response was: absolutely fucking not? In these conditions? The roads were dangerous and you told her as much.

After a few minutes of her pouts and tearful eyes that you knew to be fake because you practically taught her those tricks (not on purpose, of course, she was very perceptive and cunning, a fact you were proud of), you compromised with a promise of gifts, whatever she wanted, she accepted but not without a final demand of sending a raven to father, to tell him to hurry up home.

Aerion… Oh Aerion...

He's become a even more of a nightmare.

Terrorizing the servants and his squires, he's even been messing with Daeron and your sisters too.

You've had to deal with the cook saying he wants to quit, serve somewhere else, because he cannot deal with Aerion's picky eating and devilish behavior.

Perhaps you should have taken his tongue for what he said, one does not quite need a tongue to cook, now do they? any one of his little assistants can do the tasting for him.

The idea was tempting, yes, but you didn't know what your father would do to Daeron if he found out about it, the man was your mother's favorite cook, so with a twitching eye you talked him down, gave him gold for his trouble and promised to reprimand Aerion for it.

With Daeron, Aerion thought it funny to replace the wine of his flask with vinegar, this you had to find out through Daella, because Daeron left soon after—again.

No sooner than a few hours, both Daella and Rhae came to you with their angry tears in their eyes and clashing voices clamoring for your help, claiming Aerion took the heads off their dolls—that was the final straw.

You were definitely going to kill him. It was one thing to pout around like a child—but doing that? He was just asking for it.

Thankfully, being what you two were — you knew exactly how to get to him.

It did not take long before Aerion nearly broke down the doors to your bedchambers, out of breath like he ran all the way from Volantis.

He marched up to your desk.

"Is it true?" Aerion asked, eyes wild and searching.

"There are many things going on—you must be specific, Aerion." You said monotonously, focused on the letter in your hand, unaware of the clenched fist the lack of 'my' before his name caused.

"Your betrothal to Daeron? Is it true?" He asked, stepping behind the desk to stand beside you.

"Father thought it was time to revisit the idea–" you began until Aerion snatched the letter from your hand and looked over it, eyes frantically scanning the page for anything confirming his fears — it was a letter from Egg, detailing his days in King's landing.

"That hedge knight who our Egg is squiring for is practically assured to be a Kingsguard, can you believe it?" you couldn't help but laugh, a sardonic but nonetheless melodious sound that calmed his nerves a touch, despite everything.

Your smile fell along with his heart as you stood chest to chest, nose to nose, and he had to use every ounce of control not to kiss you right there.

"He's taken Egg from us—a hedge knight who's not worthy of mentoring a prince of Egg's calibre, yet here we are."

He could hear the accusation in your tone.

This is all your fault, you should have killed the hedge knight when you had the chance.

"You cannot blame me for Aegon's foolishness–"

"No, I cannot," you smiled with no warmth. "because he's done nothing wrong, he's only a child, the foolish one is you, brother," the title you used to say sweetly rolled off your tongue like venom.

"I've done nothing wrong," he said quietly, provoking you to take his jaw in hand, your fingers digging into his cheek.

"How long do you plan to act recklessly?" You asked, eyes steadily moving between his glistening ones. "How long until you act like a man?"

"I am–"

You shushed him, finally closing your eyes in frustration and disappointment, opening them with a deep breath and a look of utter exasperation.

"What you are — is an idiot."

Aerion shrank into himself — you've never spoken or looked at him like that before, you've been upset with him in the past, but never so scathingly.

Was this the end?

You could see the apple of his throat move as he gulped.

"Will you marry Daeron?" He asked shakily.

A moment of silence passes.

"Do you truly need me to answer?" You replied, voice steady and unfaltering.

Aerion took your hand off his jaw and placed upon his chest, his heart beat harder at your touch as if screaming to be cradled in your hand.

"You cannot—you promised me you wouldn't," he pleaded.

"You promised me many things too, Aerion, what's one broken promise of mine against the mountainous heap you keep adding to time after time?"

You snatched your hand out of his grip and stepped away. "I've grown tired of it, Aerion, you refuse to change, you refuse to listen to me, you refuse to apologize for your mistakes — and I refuse to deal with your shit anymore."

Aerion felt a harrowing cold tear through him.

This cannot be the end of it—you were meant to be together forever, you promised him.

You promised him that night he's heard father speak to you the first time of this betrothal between you and Daeron.

"This is tradition as old as our house, you would be better off with him than anyone else, Daeron is blood of your blood—your brother." Father said.

It felt all too unfair and cruel to Aerion, why should Daeron have any right to wed you when he hardly spared you any attention?

He should have been the firstborn son—not Daeron.

He should have been the one marrying you—not Daeron.

He was the son that was the measure of excellence, he was the better warrior, the better son—father knew it, Daeron knew it—and you knew it.

Yet he was not considered solely because he was second-born. Because tradition bid it so.

Well fuck tradition and fuck anyone who stands in his way. His sister belongs to him only.

But then you said: "I will think about it."

What is there to think about?

 Did he not give you enough? He dedicated everything he had to you, he never let any harm befall you, he never gave his body nor heart to anyone but you, no matter how many whores tried to get him into bed with them, no matter how many ladies clattered to the front of the stands in hopes that he would ask for their favor—none of them could have his heart rushing, none of them could make blood rush to his cock on the sight of them alone like you did—he would always choose you.

Would Daeron do any of that for you?

What did Daeron ever do except bring shame to this family? To you?

Naturally, Aerion confronted you on it.

To say he confronted you was an over exaggeration. It was more of a plea than anything else. He softly whispered into your neck not to marry Daeron, to not leave him.

You simply laughed and held him closer, promised him that would never happen. Told him that you only wished not to make father suspicious when he questioned why you didn't refuse the betrothal outright. That answer didn't satisfy him at all, but he said nothing and pressed you tighter to him anyway.

Aerion would rather you just demanded to marry him instead. He knew that father would listen to you if you asked. He didn't understand why you haven't brought it up yourself.

He's asked for your hand before, multiple times. But every single time he's been denied and forced to endure endless farcical courtships brought on by the King. Only good thing that came out of them was your possessiveness, you were always more ravenous for him when his attention was threatened to be taken away, not that he would ever dare give it to anyone else.

What he'd give to go back to that night.

When he was courting lady whatever-her-name-was—you spent hours on end making love to him, marking him in places no clothing of his could cover up, so the woman can see he could never be hers and back off.

That all felt so far away now.

Aerion would do anything to make you love him like that again.

He would beg you until the end of time if he had to, no matter how many shades of black and blue his knees turned.

You paused in your steps when he pulled you back by your hand, and you turned to scold him only to find air where his face should have been, your eyes flit down to find him on his knees.

He looked beautiful like this, you thought, and you almost forgave him for just looking up at you like that with his pretty eyes wet with guilt and want, they looked like crystalline lilacs from the shine of his tears.

He called your name desperately, breathlessly. "My love, please…"

"Please what?" You said, fingers loose, refusing to reciprocate his tight grip and give him what he wanted, not yet, he didn't deserve it.

"Please don't leave me," he begged. "I'm sorry, I know now that I did wrong—I'll never do it again," your fingers tightened around his hand, making his breath hitch.

"You'll be good?" You caressed his face with your knuckles, content when his eyes fluttered shut at the faintest touch of your skin.

"To me?" Aerion nodded.

You cradled his face in your hand, narrowing your eyes with a look. "To them?"

"Yes," he said. "I'll never mess with them again, I promise."

You keep your gaze locked to his face, tracing his skin and wiping away his tears with your thumb, you took a second to take in the way he responded to your touch.

Aerion breathed deeply when your thumb swiped at his lips, he licked at it and opened his mouth to take it in, looking up at you with heavy eyes.

"Already so needy," you mused as you entertained yourself with the thought of pushing it in deeper, see if he can handle it, but you decided on something else.

Aerion nearly fell forward when you pulled away, he hadn't realized how much he leaned into your hand.

He was halfway off his knees when you spoke up again.

"Stay there," you commanded, and he obeyed without thinking.

The forceful screech of the chair as it dragged should have made him cringe, but the hunger and anticipation of what the sound meant was far louder than it could ever be.

You stood between him and the chair, satisfied at the sight of his hungry eyes as he watched your nightgown slip off—he felt an odd feeling of jealousy—he envied the silk as it caressed your beautiful skin on it's way to the floor.

"You still remember how to make use of your mouth, yes?" You asked, pushing your hips forward as you sat.

Aerion crawled close and pressed his face into your stomach, trailing open mouthed kisses up your body, all while fondling what he could get his hands on. You suppressed a call of his name from the feeling of his palm rubbing at your cunt.

He let out a groan when he took your breast into his mouth, rolling his tongue on and around your nipple, and you laughed, a sound broken by pleasure.

"You've missed me, huh?" You asked, nails scraping at the nape of his neck, you haven't forgotten how he loved it when you did that.

Aerion's only response was a wordless hum, still preoccupied with mouthing and licking at your breasts. You gripped at his hair and pulled him back, the hand that rubbed at you paused from the sudden movement.

He looked as if he was in a daze, those lilac irises of his were so shadowed by his pupils you would think his eyes were black. You looked down hungrily at his lips, the mess of his drool kept them wet and glistened for you—he looked ruined and you haven't even started yet.

"Use your words when I speak to you." You said, making him stand on his knees to get his face closer to yours.

"Yes," he said and tried to join your lips with his, whimpering when you tugged at his hair and looked down at him expectantly.

"I missed you, sister." He confessed.

"I missed you too, brother," you replied mirthfully. "that wasn't so hard now was it?"

You pulled him by his collar into a kiss and your noses clashed at your eager movement. Aerion ignored the pain of his knees and wrapped his arms around you, lost in the taste of your lips and tongue.

He could taste the blood on your lips, skin torn from ceaseless biting and dryness borne from stress and dehydration. You savored the sting that came from him licking at your wounds.

You felt like he should match you, so you bit at his bottom lip until you could taste his blood on your tongue.

Aerion moaned into your mouth, the sound a mix of pleasure and pain.

In his hazy mind, he swore this was you claiming him in an oath of blood, binding your soul to his — because what else could this ever be? did your blood not mix with his in this kiss?

You separated against your wills, drawing breath with your heads resting against one another. Not for long of course, Aerion greedy man that he was, nips, sucks and bites at your throat and you let him before your mind broke free from it's daze and you pushed him off.

"Aerion!" you shouted, scolding. "I told you—no biting."

He doesn't get the chance to whine over it before you push his head down to where you want him, and he doesn't waste time, mouthing and licking at your cunt like a man starved.

You sighed in pleasure at the way he lapped up and down at you, you placed your legs on his shoulder to draw him in deeper. The new angle raised your pleasure higher, but to a point — the movements of his tongue and mouth slowed, his grip on your thighs lost their pressure.

It was when he let out a groan that you realized one of his hands were missing, the movements of his arm gave it all away.

You take his jaw in your hand, lowering yourself to press your nose to his.

"And who gave you leave to touch yourself?" You asked, searching his eyes and finding no shame in them—you expected no less of him.

"A dragon does not need leave to do what he wants," he said quietly, causing you to scoff.

You dive down slow and he closes his eyes, thinking you would kiss him, but you press your lips close to his ears instead.

"It seems you've forgotten something in our time apart," you whispered, sending shivers down his spine. "you were never the dragon here."

"Get on the bed." You commanded, already on your feet.

In mere minutes, he was undressed and on his back with you crawling on top of him. His cock pinned down to his stomach under your weight, but you would not have him inside you yet.

"Keep your hands on me." You told him, and Aerion didn't need to be told twice as he immediately grabbed at your hips, urging you to move.

You rocked your hips back and forth, smirking at the moans he let out.

"Look at you, not even inside me and already you're so close," you teased, rolling a finger at his leaking tip and making his hips buck up into you, and his fingers dig painfully into your flesh.

"Please…"

A pained sound left you with a laugh, you took his hands off and pinned them above his head with one of your own on his wrists, the other wraps around his throat tight.

"No begging," you said, breath wafting over his face as you take his away. "you'll take what I give you."

Aerion could feel himself coming dangerously close to the edge, his vision darkening at the edges from the lack of air but he could not care less—he could die from the pleasure before the suffocation gets him.

It only took a minute before you drove him off the edge, a minute of your cunt moving effortlessly from the wetness dripping out of you. Aerion's jaw fell slack with a cry as ropes of hot cum spill on his stomach in waves, his hands clenching and unclenching from the strength of his release.

You don't slow your hips even then, your eyes locked on his expression—his cheeks flushed, tearful eyes unfocused as if in another place, but it was his tongue that got you, calling your name over and over like you could bring him salvation.

With a hushed curse you reach sweet, sweet release—finally!

His wrists would surely be bruised by the end of this from how tight your grip was you rutted on his softened cock, your slickness smearing all over him.

You loosen your grip and give him a moment to catch his breath, smiling when he kept his hands above his head, either too tired to care or too fucked out to be aware.

"Hey," you call softly, and at the caress of your hand on his face, his eyes finally found yours. "you good for one more?"

Aerion mouthes his response.

"Speak," you told him.

"Yes!" he rasped out, pleading at you with his eyes and spilled tears. "yes—again."

You smiled down at him.

"I still haven't gotten to cum on your mouth," you said crawling higher over his body and hovering above his face.

"Let's fix that, shall we?" and with that you press down on his face, immediately feeling his tongue licking up against you.

Aerion wastes no time in lapping up your slick like he was drinking down the most delicious nectar, and to him nothing ever tasted as good.

Nothing ever sounded as good as your moans either—he could feel his cock hardening again, it hurt so badly.

He couldn't wait until you let him inside you, but for now he'll let you use him as much as you wanted. He would let you cum a thousand times on his mouth if it meant you would forgive him and never entertain the thought of having another man as your lover.

You grind yourself on his face, soft whimpers leaving your beautiful lips.

"Aerion," you moaned, the sound music to his ears and an enabler to make him work you to your breaking point even harder. "you're doing so well—fuck!"

Still so sensitive from your earlier release, you reach your limit faster than you expected.

Aerion gripped you down onto his face by your hips when you tried to squirm away from him, making you ride off your high.

You laid down beside him, exhausted from all of it, and you feel his arms wrap around you, holding you close to him.

A hardness presses against you, and despite yourself you feel an aching want—you need to feel him inside you, it's been too long.

"Again," you breathe out, pushing him away and turning on your stomach, using a pillow to raise your hips up for him, too tired to hold them up yourself.

"As you wish, my love," Aerion said, grin in his voice, it annoyed you but it was endearing all the same.

Aerion lined himself up, cock practically twitching with glee, and he bottomed out inside you in one swift and hard movement, knocking the breath out of you.

"Fuck," he cursed in your ear and a breathy laugh left him. "you feel even better than I remember."

He finally began to move, drawing back until just the tip remained—then he thrust in hard and deep.

You were certain he grew bigger during your separation, it felt like he was splitting you with every inch of him. Maybe you really did go insane.

If you didn't then his cock surely would have you lose your mind. He picked up the pace, moving in and out like a madman, your velvety walls clinging to him with every thrust as if trying to draw him in deeper.

The bedchamber was thick with the smell of sex and sweat and a filthy cacophony of sounds—the loud slap of skin on skin, the lewd moans and cries—there would be no doubt to any passerby to what you were doing.

You knew for a fact every single servant knew of your dirty little secret, you recalled a time that one of the guards stationed outside your chambers closed the door on you midst lovemaking—it was a wonder to you both how your father never knew—but all were wise to shut their mouths, not even the maester had the audacity to do anything other than make you moon-tea when you bid him to.

Aerion was close, you could tell from his erratic thrusts, his whimpers, his stuttering pace, changing from slow to fast, back to slow again.

He was losing control.

"Aerion," you whined. "don't falter on me now–mmh–fuck me harder!"

He nodded with a groan, the pleasure making him forget that you couldn't see him, then rutted faster at your command, making your vision go white.

"Yes—that's it, Aerion—so good." You praised, and he could swear he almost came from that alone.

He felt your walls spasm hard around him, and he knew that you came then, mindlessly repeating his name over and over again, that was enough for him to follow you and reach his own release.

Aerion kept moving anyway, making sure you take it all, make you milk him for all he was worth, and maybe this time he'll convince you not to drink moontea, but maybe you would come to that decision yourself.

Maybe you'd realize that there was no one else that deserved to have a babe off you.

"mandy bought the shirt cause it was 'so her style'…"

his tongue traces the edge of your panties, and you gasp mid-sentence but keep talking.

"anyway, then we went to that new boutique downtown-"

bobby hooks his fingers into your panties, pulling them aside and exposing you completely. he groans appreciatively before diving in, his tongue flat against your folds as he licks a slow, deliberate stripe up to your clit as his cock strains against his boxers.

"oh god," you breathe, your hands tangling in his hair. "t-then i found this skirt."

"mmmhmm," he mumbles against your folds, his voice muffled.

he sucks your clit into his mouth, and your hips buck involuntarily. "bobby," you moan, your train of thought completely derailing for a moment. "the skirt was…uh…was on sale."

your boyfriend releases your clit with a wet pop, his face pressed against your folds as he rubs his cheeks against you like a cat. "mmmhmm," he murmurs again, the vibrations sending electricity through you.

you whimper, trying to continue your story but failing miserably. "the-um-the skirt was…oh fuck…"

he adjusts your legs, draping them over his shoulders to get deeper access, and you cry out as his tongue plunges inside you, your grip tightening in his hair.

he's making out with your pussy now, sucking and licking and kissing like it's your mouth he's devouring. his nose bumps against your clit as he tongue-fucks you, and you're seeing stars.

he's so turned on it's obscene, the wet spot on his boxers probably growing bigger with every second.

you try to pull away, the stimulation becoming almost too much, but his arms wrap around your thighs, holding you in place. "stay right here." he mumbles against you.

"s-sorry" you whimper, trying to squirm away from his relentless mouth. "anyway," you continue, trying to focus on your story, "so mandy and i spent a-all our money at this boutique…"

he just holds you closer, his tongue working magic on your clit as he slides two fingers inside you, curling them just right.

you tug on his hair again as he sucks particularly hard on your clit, your hips bucking against his face. "w-wait m'gonna cum- bobby don't stop baby-" you gasp, your train of thought completely derailed for a moment.

he looks up at you, his chin glistening with your wetness, a smug little smile on his face. "keep talking," he says, his voice rough. "i'm listening."

you nod and continue your story as he goes back to eating you out, his tongue doing this amazing flicking thing against your clit and his fingers curling up that's making it hard to form coherent sentences. "so…um…what was i saying?"

"spent all your money-" he reminds you, his voice muffled against you.

"oh right! so-" you gasp as bobby slides a third finger inside you, "fuck, okay, maybe we can finish this story later…"

Class, work, library, gym, dorm. That had been your life since starting at Briar.

Maintaining the scholarship you’d worked so hard for was your only goal.

There was no time for parties, no time for sports, no time for boyfriends.

“You’re gonna burnout” Your friend Tina said “You can’t keep going like this.

“Of course I can, I’ve been doing it the whole year” You shrugged.

“But it’s my birthday” Tina pouted “Come on, come out with us tonight, just one night” 

You considered it, the paper you were working on was almost done and not due for another 4 days, you had the day off of work and Tina’s pleading eyes were pretty convincing “Fine” You finally sighed “But only for a little bit”

“Yes!” The blonde hugged you tight “Malone’s at 8, it’s karaoke night” 

Malone’s at night was a completely different place from what you were used to, sometimes you ran in here during your lunch break or in between lessons if there was enough time to grab some food to go but you’d never been here at night when the place converted into a bar.

“You’re here!” Tina somehow spots you as soon as you walk through the doors “Girl the entire hockey team is here” 

“And some of the football team too” Maggie, your other friend points out passing you a shot glass “The quarterback this season? HOT, he’s a freshman too which means maybe I’ll have a chance” She wiggles her eyebrows.

You freeze, the new football quarterback, Beau Maxwell, your ex boyfriend.

Your high school boyfriend who broke up with you only a few days after your first anniversary. His reasoning? College.

He was planning on focusing on his football career and he didn’t want to stand in between you and your education because he knew how hard you’d worked for your scholarship.

You wanted to argue, tell him that the only reason you’d been killing yourself with so much school work had been because of your shared plans to make it to Briar together. Because your parents didn’t have the money his did to put you through a private college comfortably, but they did have enough money for you to go to community college and you had the grades to make it in without slaving yourself over your studies. 

In fact, that had been your first choice, you didn’t mind staying home and going to community college, but Beau had put the idea of Briar U together in your head back when you were just friends and your decision had been final when you finally started dating.

But you didn’t argue, you accepted the breakup and tried to move on, you were already well on your way to start at Briar so you pushed through, spent the whole fall semester with your head in your books ignoring all the noise about football season.

And it worked, it was now almost summer, the end of your freshman year, and you hadn’t had a single interaction with him. You weren’t even sure if he knew you were in the same campus as him.

The drinks flowed nicely, you joined Tina and Maggie at their booth where more friends were sitting, you did a few shots and nursed a drink for a few hours, you were having fun and thankfully the place was crowded enough that you hadn’t seen Beau all night. 

“You have to sing with me!” Tina was begging you, she was a bit more tipsy than you by now “And you too” she pointed at Maggie “Oh my god, we’re doing Mamma Mia!” 

You didn’t even get a chance to protest before she was at the bar signing you up. “Guess we’re Donna and the Dynamos tonight” Maggie shrugged sipping on her beer.

A little later your names were announced and as much as you tried complaining to your friends wouldn’t let you stay in your seat. Tina and Maggie were already on the stage by the time you begrudgingly made your way over. 

“Woo” Allie shouted your name from the booth “Let’s go!” This is what you get for being friends with the theater kids.

Beau stopped mid sentence at the sound of your name, there was no way it was actually you, other people have the same name as you right? 

He knew you were at Briar, he’d seen you around campus a few times, busy and focused as always. He had stopped himself from reaching out more than once, he had broken up with you after all.

But then he looked at the stage and there you were, beautiful as ever, and looking more free than you have in a while.

Super Trouper by ABBA started playing and you and your friends took your places as if you were in Mamma Mia and Beau swears the atmosphere changed completely as if he was in one of the romance movies him and Joana watch every time they’re together.

And then your eyes found his and time warped all around you. A few seconds felt like long minutes and nothing at all at the same time. You missed your next line but thankfully your friends kept going like nothing had happened.

When the song finished you all but ran back to your booth and got your jacket to leave “Okay, that’s it for me guys, love you, bye” You rushed out.

“Nooo, we’re having so much fun, don’t go!” Tina whined.

“I know but it’s late and I work early tomorrow” You excuse yourself.

“Okay well, be safe, text us when you get home” Allie nods.

You turn around to leave but instead find yourself blocked by someone. 

Beau.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Seeing you up in that stage made him realize just how much he had messed up by letting you go.

You’d almost forgotten how your name sounded from his lips. Almost. Your body though, apparently didn’t get the memo that you’re no longer together because it completely relaxed before your brain reminded it that it was not supposed to react that way.

Behind you, your friends were shocked by the fact that the new hotshot quarterback was standing in front of you calling your name, not to mention the fact that he looked like he was a moment away from falling on his knees for you.

“Beau” You said.

“Shit” He cursed “Can we talk?” 

“I was just leaving” You told him hoping that was enough for him to let you leave. 

“I’ll walk you” He said “I’d offer to drive you but I’ve had a few drinks” 

“You really don’t have to” You insisted.

“Or we can get a taxi?” You knew the tone he was using, it was the same one he used that one time he forgot you had a date because they were on a two game losing streak and practices were running late back in high school, it was the ‘I’m genuinely sorry please let me make it up to you somehow’ tone.

“I don’t wanna take you away from the party” You told him looking back at a group of girls where he was standing before, they looked impatient for him to go back. 

“Please?” You sighed giving him a small nod, as always, you can’t resist against him.

The walk back to your dorm was quiet for a while. Like he was trying to figure out how to start the conversation. 

It wasn’t until you entered your street that he spoke “I’m sorry” You didn’t look at him, just kept your eyes to the front “Like genuinely, I’m really sorry. For breaking up with you like that, for giving you shit reasons, for not fighting more for us” 

“Then why’d you do it?” 

“Because I’m stupid” You reached your dorm “Because I saw what college did to my brother’s relationship, and Joanna kept talking about how much fun she was having being single and how glad she was to not be tied to someone” 

“And also because everyone around kept talking about how busy I was going to get with practice and games and classes, and I didn’t want to keep you waiting or make you feel like you were second to football all the time” He continued “And for a while I tried to convince myself that I’d done the right thing but really I feel empty all the time. And alone, all those parties filled with people? They don’t matter because as much as I try to let them distract me I always end up staring at the door waiting for you to walk in” 

“Beau-“ You tried to speak but he stopped you.

“I love you. I know I never said it back when we were together but I need you to know that I love you and every day for the past year I’ve spent wishing I could go back in time and not let all the noise get in my head” 

Now, you knew your friends would never approve of this, well, at least Allie wouldn’t. But hearing Beau say those three words is enough for you to give in.

“Beau?” He finally let you speak, big eyes stared into your “I’m gonna really need your actions to speak for your words if we’re going to try this again” 

“Yes” He nodded immediately “Yes, yes baby. Anything” 

“Okay” 

“Okay?”

“Okay” 

“So can I kiss you now?” You laughed and nodded, in an instant his lips were on yours “Fuck baby you have no idea how much I’ve missed you” 

“Why don’t you show me?” He all but growled “You know, that thing about your actions?”

“Logan!” Dean yelled out. He got off the floor and walked to Logan’s room, he knocked 3 times, no answer. He opened the door and found Logan still sleeping. “Dude, wake up!” Dean approached his bed and started shaking him until Logan jolted awake.

“What the fuck, Dean?!?” Logan exclaimed, completely startled to see the 6’2 human golden retriever standing over him.

“Is that anyway to greet your friend?” Dean feigned being hurt by his friend’s words.

“This early? Yes, yes it is. What do you want?” Logan groaned, moving to his side to try and get some shuteye.

“There was this really cute girl at the party last night, I need you to help me find her dorm.” Dean omits the fact that it was for Logan and not himself.

“Aren’t you dating Allie? Why are you finding another girl cute?” Logan asked.

“She stole my wallet.” Dean lied and Logan let out a little “ha”. “You gonna come with me or not?”

“Dude, go by yourself.” Logan said.

“Please come with me, I’ll pay for your breakfast.” Dean offered and Logan perked up.

“Pay for my food for the whole day.” Logan countered.

“Done.” Dean agreed.

You were waiting for the elevator talking to your mom.

“Si mami, ahorita voy a salir para desayunar, no te preocupes.” You told your worrying mother. The elevator dinged and you saw two boys who you have never seen before step out, walking down the hall towards your dorm.

“Permítame tantito, mami. Excuse me, can I help you?” You asked.

“No thanks.” The brunette said as he followed the tall blonde.

“Te hablo después mami, te quiero mucho.” You hung up the phone and started following the two college boys. “Hey!”

“Dont put your number, don’t put your number.” The brunette told the blonde, both of them standing in front of your dorm, the blonde

“I’m not putting my number, I’m putting your number.” The blonde corrected.

“That’s my dorm.” You said and the brunette turned around, checking you out and with a little smirk he said

“Okay, put my number.”

“Are you sure this is your dorm?” The blonde asked.

“I’m pretty sure, I’ve been sleeping there since I moved in. What’s your name, anyway?” You asked, arms crossed.

“Well my name is Dean Di Laurentis, and this pretty faced brunette is John Logan.” Dean said with his hands on John’s shoulders. “He’s single, by the way.” Dean winked, John elbowed him, and you stifled a laugh.

“So sorry, it’s just that a girl stole his wallet.” John said.

“Oh, it was in my jeans the whole time, silly me. Well, I’ll leave you two to it, you kids have fun.” And Dean left them.

“Was your friend dropped on his head as a baby?” You asked and John laughed.

“No, but it would explain so much if he was.” John replied. “You know my name, what’s yours?”

“It’s Y/N. So John, what was the plan here?” Y/N asked.

“Actually, people call me Logan but you can call me John if you like.” Logan said.

“Bueno, Logan, care to explain why Dean was going to leave me your number.”

“I think he was pimping me out. Anyway, sorry to bother you.” Logan said and he was going to talk away when you stopped him.

“I was heading to the dining hall for breakfast. You wanna join me?” You asked.

“I’d like that, actually.” Logan said snd the both of you started walking together to the elevator. “You like hockey?” The elevator dinged and you got on.

“I’ve been to one New York Rangers game but I don’t really go to the briar hockey games. I’ve been meaning to though.”

“Well when you go to a briar game, check out number 22.” Logan suggested. The elevator door opened and yall got out.

“I will.” You said. “So you’re inviting me to watch you play?”

“Well clearly Dean was trying to set me up with you, it must have been for good reason.” Logan said. “Speaking of which, I have to find him in the dining hall, he’s paying for my food.”

“Alright then. I’ll meet you at the register.” You said. You walked inside the dining hall and split up. Logan spotted Dean talking to Garrett and Tucker.

“Hey, where were you?” Garrett asked.

“Ask Dean, he pimped me out to a Latina.” Logan said, pointing at Dean before grabbing what he wanted to eat.

“Actually, funny story about that, I meant to pimp you out to that girl.” Dean said, pointing to a short brunette with medium straight hair, wearing a blue baby tee and shorts. “I mixed up her dorm number, I drank lots of beer last night.”

“I am so lost.” Tucker said. They headed to the Register to pay for their food.

“I followed Dean to one resident buildings on campus and he was putting my phone number on the door. This girl was startled, had no idea what’s going on. But she’s cute, very pretty.” Logan said.

“Looks like I did something right after all.” Dean said.

“You’re lucky she didn’t call campus security.” Logan said.

“But you two hit it off! It’s fate, I swear, god wanted me to mix up the dorms.” Dean said.

“Keep telling yourself that.” Logan said.