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more than words masterlist

Summary: The one person who you thought would be happy for you finally getting with someone decent was your best friend. After all, he had set you both up. Who would’ve thought he’d be the reason it all falls apart? (strictly 18+, no minors)

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x f!reader & bestfriend!Benny Miller x f!reader

pt.1

pt.2

pt.3

pt.4

pt.5

pt.6

pt.7

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If you’d like to be tagged, just let me know! And thank you to everyone who is loving this and following along—you’re all wonderful! ❤️foli

Read You Like a Book Masterlist

Read You Like a Book

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Fem!Reader/OFC (Anne)

Summary: Marcus Pike gets his chance to be a main character, and for that matter, so do you. Let’s solve some crime.

Content: Fluff, Smut, Slow Burn, Crime Drama, Rom Com, Occasional Angst, Past Relationship Trauma, Non-Graphic Violence, Marcus Pike Being a Soft Boi, Grumpy Dog Named Din

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Chapters marked with ** contain smut. :-)

Chapter List (Post Fridays at 9 AM EST):

Forgetting (Part 1)

Upside Down (Part 2)

Drop Everything (Part 3)

Slide (Part 4)

Permission (Part 5)

Closer (Part 6)

Lucky (Part 7)

One More (Part 8)**

Definitely (Part 9)**

Rover (Part 10)

Honey (Part 11)**

Fire (Part 12)**

Another (Part 13)**

One Shots:

The Morning After (Set between Part 12 and 13)

London (Set pre-RYLAB)

Hard Day (Set post-RYLAB)**

Seven (Set post-RYLAB)**

Headcanons:

Meet the Gang

Anne and Din

Favorite Books

How does Marcus react when Anne puts herself in danger?

How tall are Marcus and Anne?

Strengths and Weaknesses

What if Anne accidentally sent Marcus an indecent pic?

Triple Date with Frankie and Ezra (A Pocket Wives AU)

Why can’t this be Love? - Chpt.1

Summary: You’ve never really fit in, despite trying, despite being on the cheerleading team, despite awkwardly socialising with the popular crowd. It’s not for you - these people aren’t for you. Yet, you don’t know how to escape! Do you continue following a dead end? Or finally break away?

The answer is made for you after your ‘date,’ a boy on the basketball team, bails on you, and uninvites you from some stupid basketball after party. Whatever, that’s fine. But what’s not fine is the agonisingly long walk home. Oh, in the dark, late at night!

However, your saviour finds you, and not only does he save you from walking home alone, but the conflicting feelings that you’ve spent the last few years with.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Cheerleader Reader

Reader Description: Reader is female and uses she/her pronouns. Not much detail is given about her appearance, other than she wears heavy eyeliner, and is clearly an outcast that is trying to fit in.

Word count: 1.8k

Tags: Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Slow burn, Awkward flirting, Drinking, Angst, Comfort, Generic High School Bullying, Denial of feelings, Feelings realisation.

[Chapter 2]  [Read on AO3]

Keep reading

Cheerleader Pt. 1

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Pairing: female reader x Eddie Munson

Summary: Y/n and Chrissy are best friends, but when she dies, she knows things aren't as everyone seems to think. Maybe Eddie is innocent.

Warnings: SPOILERS for ST4, teen drinking, partying, drugs, death, violence, cursing, fluff, potentially more

A/N: This is turning out longer than I expected so it's going to be multiple parts. Eddie needs some fanfics so bad so here I am making one! Please check in for the next parts soon! Requests open (Stranger Things, Marvel, Harry Potter), taglist open, inbox open! Please like, comment, and reblog!

It was the day of the big championship game. The entire school, or at least most of it, was stoked. Hawkins High hadn’t won a championship in ages, but this year was going to be different. The basketball team was amazing, the band was awesome, and the cheerleaders were impeccable. You were biased though, being a cheerleader yourself. But you knew how hard you and the rest of the cheer squad had worked on all the routines and you just had a good feeling about this game.

While you may have been in high spirits, your best friend Chrissy Cunningham wasn’t doing very well. She had been telling you for the past few days how bad she had been feeling and the horrible headaches she was getting. You knew she was taking tylenols but they weren’t helping. And nothing would help with her nightmares. You offered to spend the night with her whenever they first began but she declined, not wanting to bother you. You really didn’t mind, you just wanted your friend to be okay.

“Chrissy?” you asked, waiting outside the bathroom stall. You were walking down the hall with her when she rushed into the bathroom and promptly locked herself in a stall. She didn’t answer but you could hear her gagging and sniffling. The door to the bathroom opened and you saw a redhead walk into the bathroom with headphones around her neck. You had seen her around before but couldn’t remember her name. You smiled awkwardly at her while Chrissy continued to barf in the stall.

“Is she okay?” the redhead asked.

“Um- no not really,” you said. 

You heard some shuffling in the stall and then heard Chrissy say, “Who is it?”

You looked at the girl and waited for her to say her name. “Oh it’s- it’s Max. Max Mayfield.”

Max. You had heard of her before. She was Billy Hargroves little sister. You didn’t know him very well, just what everyone said about him and how he died in the mall fire last year.

Chrissy heard Max say what her name was, and you guessed that Chrissy didn’t care since she didn’t reply. Or at least you thought she wasn’t but after a very guttural sounding puke she said, “Could you please leave?”

You looked at Max expectantly. Usually you wouldn’t tell people to leave the bathroom but you knew your friend was struggling and probably embarrassed. She nodded and started walking out the door and you followed. “I’m going to get some water Chrissy, okay? I’ll be back in a minute.”

You and Max walked out into the hall. She lingered for a second and appeared like she wanted to ask you something. She didn’t though, and instead just gave you a small smile and walked off. You went to the vending machine down the hallway and stuck some quarters in it. Clink, clink, clink. They fell to the bottom of the slot. You pressed C1 for water and watched as the metal swirls let the bottle drop down to the opening at the bottom of the vending machine. You pushed open the piece to get the water and started heading back to the bathroom.

It was silent. You tilted yourself down just a little and saw that Chrissy was still in the stall, but she wasn’t moving or making any noise. “Chrissy?” you asked.

No answer. “Chrissy?” You shifted your weight back and forth between your feet. “Chrissy, are you okay in there?” you repeated one more time. Still no answer. You checked to make sure the other stalls were empty before going into the stall next to hers and getting on your hands and knees. The floor was absolutely disgusting but that didn’t matter right then. You crawled under the stall and into Chrissy’s.

She was sitting there, totally unmoving other than her eyes. Her eyelids were twitching and all you could see was the white part of her eyeballs. “Chrissy!” you exclaimed. You waved your hand in front of her face but she didn’t seem aware, or present at all. You grabbed a hold of her shoulders and shook her. You were starting to panic. In a situation like that you had no idea what to do. Was she having a seizure? Was she in shock? You had no idea.

“Chrissy! Chrissy please,” you pleaded. “Come on, come on, say something! It’s okay! I’m here.”

Suddenly she gasped, and her eyes went back to normal. She was shaking all over and her eyes darted around like crazy.

“Oh Chrissy,” you said, wrapping your arms around her. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I- I don’t know what that was…” she trembled. “I was here but it was different and…”

“Do you need to go home? I can take you to the nurse. Or we can just skip. I’ll drive you.”

She shook her head. “No, no. I’ll be fine. I have to talk to the guidance counselor later anyways and today is the big game. I can’t miss it.”

You looked at her for a moment, thinking about protesting but you knew it would be of no use. Chrissy wouldn’t miss the game for anything. Jason, her boyfriend and captain of the basketball team, would be really disappointed if she didn’t come.

“Okay. Just make sure that you tell her about what happened. And here, drink this water.” You handed her the water and waited for her to take a few sips.

She knew you were still worried just by the way you were staring at her. Your eyebrows were creased and you were barely blinking, like if you did she would just vanish into thin air. “I’m fine, okay? I’ll see you at lunch, promise,” Chrissy said. You sighed but relented.

Your classes before lunch passed by in a blur. No one was really focused on the school work. Many were buzzing about the game later, and the celebration that would come afterwards if Hawkins won. You weren’t really thinking about the game. Your mind was on your best friend. “What was that back there?” you thought.

You parked yourself next to Chrissy at your usual lunch table with Jason and his basketball friends. The energy at the table was very consuming as they all chatted animatedly about the upcoming game.

“We’re gonna smoke them,” Chance said. All the other boys agreed. “They’re not going to know what hit them. Isn’t that right, Lucas?” He turned to one of the freshmen at the table. He had been on the bench the entire season, and he was quieter than most basketball players you knew. Especially the ones at your table.

“Yeah, for sure man,” he answered.

From behind you a voice spoke up, catching the attention of most of the cafeteria. It was Eddie Munson.

Eddie was standing up on top of a lunch table saying, “...or parties or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets!” He directed that towards your table and Jason stood up.

“You want something, freak?” Jason yelled. Eddie smiled and made horns on his head with his hands. Jason gave him a look and muttered, “prick,” as he sat back down.

Eddie was a senior. He had been a senior for a while now, and had failed his last year multiple times. At least that’s what everyone said. You weren’t well acquainted with him at all but you had a class with him. He was talkative and had an outgoing personality, but you didn’t see anything wrong with that. 

Almost the entire school considered him a “freak” though because he liked to play Dungeon and Dragons. Personally you didn’t play it, but one of the kids you babysat did. You had heard plenty of stories about how the game made people violent and it was satanic. You thought it was a load of bull. It was just a harmless game.

“Y/N,” Chrissy whispered, getting your attention. You had some pizza in your mouth so you looked at her and raised your eyebrows, letting her know to continue. “I set up a… meeting with Eddie for later today.”

You quirked an eyebrow, showing that you didn’t understand. She looked around anxiously and scooted a little closer. “For… stuff. He sells.” Realization hit you. She was buying drugs. Chrissy was buying drugs. That was something you never thought would happen. Chrissy had always been so straight laced.

You nodded and swallowed your food. “What for?” you asked. You had never done drugs before but knew a couple people who did. Your knowledge of drugs was pretty limited. You knew about the not-so-bad stuff like weed.

“Maybe it’ll help with the headaches. And the nightmares.” She chewed on her lip and looked at you seriously. 

“Okay. Be safe though.” You weren’t going to scold her or anything like that. Chrissy was truly struggling and maybe it was worth a try. She let out a breath and shut her eyes for a second. She must have been afraid to tell you. You rubbed her shoulder briefly, causing Jason to look over at you two.

“You okay Chrissy?” he asked. She nodded and smiled at him. She must not be telling him then. Just you.

Hours later you were in the gym, cheering on the basketball team. It was a close game, but you were hopeful that the Hawkins team would pull through and win the championship. The gym was packed full of supporters. It seemed like half the town showed up.

“WOO!” you cheered, waving your pom-poms. There was just a few seconds left on the clock. Jason took the shot, as everyone watched with bated breath. He missed. Your shoulders fell. But then underneath the goal was Lucas, the freshman benchwarmer. He got the ball, took a couple steps back, jumped, and shot. The crowd erupted in cheers. Hawkins had won the championship. The entire basketball team converged on Lucas, hoisting him up on their shoulders and chanting his name.

Later on in the night the gym had cleared out, and the only students left were the basketball players and some cheerleaders in the parking lot. There was plans to go to a well-known place for parties.

“Hey, I’m going to go home and change but I’ll meet you guys there,” Chrissy said. You and Jason nodded and she walked off to her car. You knew that Chrissy wasn’t actually just going home. She was going to Eddie Munson’s house. Apparently he didn’t have what Chrissy wanted with him when they met at school. Jason was unaware of what was going on but you weren’t going to tell him. It wasn’t your place.

The party was hectic and full of alcohol, but you knew your limits. After a few drinks you decided to go home. The next morning you woke up to your mom calling your name. “Y/n! Y/n will you come down here?”

You went down the stairs and went to the living room where your mom and dad were watching the news. You were confused at first then you heard what the reporters were saying. Someone had been murdered last night. Collapsing onto the couch next to your mom, she wrapped her arms around you. She was scared to death of something like that happening to you. After all the death that had plagued Hawkins her worry was entirely warranted. You returned her embrace while she sniffled.

Not too long after you saw that on the news you got a call. “Hello?” you asked.

“Hey y/n it’s Jason.” You raised your eyebrows at who was calling you. He had never called you before, and wouldn’t really talk to you much when you were around him. The only reason you guys were ‘friends’ was because he was Chrissy’s boyfriend. Wait. Chrissy. She never showed up last night to that party. Fear swept over you as Jason continued to talk.

“Did you ever see Chrissy last night? Did you talk to her at all during or after the party?” his voice was urgent as he questioned you. You began to panic.

“Why? Did- Did something happen?” Your voice trembled and your hands shook.

“Listen to me very carefully y/n. I’m guessing you’ve seen the news. Last night Chrissy was… killed.”

Studious (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

Your marriage to the One-Eyed Prince is not as romantic as you hoped. At least he does not seem eager to perform his duty after your wedding night... Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N) Warnings: SMUT, p in v sex, bad sex (these kids have no idea what they're doing) Aegon's commentary at the end is probably a warning too

Author's note: This is my first ever one-shot!!! I wrote this based on a conversation I had a few weeks ago with @valeskafics and @womprat00 about how canon Aemond would likely act in bed... and here we are. There's probably gonna be a part 2 eventually, but idk when. I mostly wrote this to try and clear my writer's block around the upcoming chapters of The Silver Dragon.

Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here - Read Part IV Here

Studious

The wedding feast had been a wonder. Hundreds of candles illuminated the Great Hall, casting golden light upon the celebration below. The wine flowed and tingled in your veins, making you feel so light you almost forgot your nerves.

You had danced with every man in attendance and even a few of the women – including your new good sister, Princess Helaena. But only once with your new husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen.

After your opening dance, he returned to the table at the head of the hall, picking halfheartedly at his food and never more than sipping at his wine.

His eye – his singular violet eye – was on you all night, watching you with some emotion you could not name.

You did not allow yourself to think on it too deeply. Instead, you let yourself be lost in the celebration. You were a princess now, the wife to a dragonrider. Your children’s cradles would be warmed by dragon eggs, and they would go on to make history.

In the face of that, what did it matter that your husband had not spoken to you since the wedding ceremony? That he seemed so hesitant to touch or even look at you?

But then the Queen called for the bedding, and it mattered so much.

Aemond stiffly took your arm, never meeting your eyes, and led you out of the Great Hall.

Your only consolation came from the Queen’s insistence on a private bedding.

-

The bedchamber was starkly different from the exuberant joy of the Great Hall. You had not yet had the chance to decide how to put your personal touch on the new apartments, so the walls and tables were bare. There was only a single candelabra lighting the empty room, and the only thing signaling that it was occupied at all was the presence of two books on the bedside table: your personal copy of The Seven-Pointed Star and your diary.

You felt the urge to hide the diary for some fear that your new husband would read it and discover your hesitancies about the marriage – about him.

But Aemond had not looked at you since you both entered the room. You looked up at him to see if he had spotted the diary, but his eye was closed, his brow furrowed. It wasn’t until you spotted the slight movement of his lips that you realized.

He was praying.

It dampened your nerves, if only slightly, to know he was just as anxious as you. And to know he was as pious as the rumors said. There, at least, you could find some commonality.

You followed his lead, as a dutiful wife should, and bowed your own head in silent prayer.

You thanked the Maiden for such a fine match, begged the Crone to grant you the wisdom to be a worthy wife, and the Smith to strengthen the bonds of your union. Finally, you asked the Mother for her blessing in making the marriage fruitful, that she would soon bless you and your husband with a son and heir.

That task was not in the hands of the Mother alone, however.

Your husband continued his own prayer for long moments after you had again opened your eyes, leaving you standing there with your head bowed and your hands clasped in front of you.

Aemond took a deep breath, drawing your eyes back to his face. It was a handsome face, you thought. When you heard of his injury, you had imagined something far more… monstrous. And while his scar, mostly covered by his eyepatch, was unsightly, you still considered yourself lucky to have him as a husband.

He was better than that Frey boy, at least.

The corners of his lips twitched, and for a moment, you thought he might smile. But he did not. His face remained mostly impassive as he looked at the braids pile atop your head.

“The pins may be uncomfortable. Do you… need help?” he asked, his voice just as soft as it had been when he swore his vows. He obviously didn’t want to deal with it himself.

So, you shook your head and stepped toward the vanity. “No,” you answered. “I can manage.”

He said nothing more as you sat on the short stool and began removing the gold and pearl pins from your hair. Every time you glanced at him in the mirror, he was standing precisely where he had been, arms crossed behind his back as he stared at the bed.

Suddenly worried that he would grow impatient, you began tearing the pins out with less care, stifling your soft whimpers when you accidentally took a few strands of hair with them. Finally, your hair was down. But you only became more nervous when you looked in the mirror.

You looked ridiculous. After being braided in so many different ways and set for so long, it stood up in several places, fell in frizzy curls in others, and lay dull and flat along the back of your head. Hardly the sight to entice a man into bedding you.

Your husband still only stared at the bed, even as you came to stand next to him, straightening the skirts of your wedding gown. Then, his eye flicked to you, and over the wild mess of your hair, before landing on your bodice.

“Lay on the bed,” he instructed.

You obeyed, resting your head on the pillows and crossing your hands over your waist. What you were meant to do with your legs, you did not know. So, you simply held them out straight, awaiting further command.

Keeping your breath steady when you heard the soft sound of leather unlacing was no easy feat. Perhaps you would not have heard it if it hadn’t been so silent. But it seemed even the crickets, which usually chirped loudly at this hour, wanted you to be wholly present for your wedding night.

Aemond made a sound then, something halfway between a groan and hiss, and you instinctively looked toward him.

You wished you hadn’t.

He stood at the end of the bed, still fully dressed save that he had pulled his trousers down just enough to expose his cock as he stroked himself impatiently.

He was big.

You had only seen a man naked once before– some drunken servant wandering through the gardens one morning who had later been whipped for exposing himself to you.

Aemond was near twice that man’s size, and with the stones to match.

You fixed your eyes on the ceiling, trying not to think about it. Your mother had warned you there would be discomfort, and perhaps some pain. After what you just saw, you knew it was going to hurt.

But it was your duty. You were expected to be a good wife. A good wife lets her husband take his pleasure, fill her with his seed, and gives him heirs.

So, though your fingers trembled, you pulled your skirts up around your waist.

Aemond muttered his thanks and climbed onto the bed next to you. Carefully, he set a hand on one of your thighs, pulling slightly. Understanding the request in the motion, you shyly spread your legs, clenching your fists at your sides to resist the urge to cover yourself with your hands.

Aemond moved between your thighs, stroking himself once more before finally looking back at your face.

You could not decipher the expression on his face. His lips were tight and pursed, his brow slightly furrowed, and his eye wide. Nor could you hide your shock when he leaned down to press his lips stiffly against yours.

Neither of you moved your lips. You would not know how; your first kiss had been with him in the Sept earlier that day. Though you had seen people kiss before, moving their lips and tongues with sensual, passionate hunger, you had no idea how to do so yourself.

Thankfully, it did not seem as though Aemond cared to. He withdrew as fast as he had leaned down, once more refusing to look at your face. Instead, he dragged his eye down your form, lingering slightly on the hint of cleavage that peeked out of your bodice before coming to rest at your sex.

The corner of his lip twitched as he reached out to run a finger through your folds, spreading you open for him to see. His touch was warm, the sensation unfamiliar, and you let out a soft cry as you instinctively pulled away from him.

“I’m sorry,” you both said at the same time.

You shyly edged yourself back down the bed toward him, silently granting him permission to continue whatever he needed to do. As you fixed your eyes back on the ceiling, you prayed again to the Mother and Maiden that this would be over before you died of embarrassment.

Aemond rubbed his hand over his thigh to try and warm his fingers before he brought them back to you. He trailed his finger slowly down your center curiously, as though you were a book he was scanning for a particular passage. Though your toes curled at the strange, almost pleasurable feeling of his touch, you kept your legs still.

Then, he withdrew his hand as though he had found whatever he was looking for. Then, he leaned back over you again, holding himself up by his left hand as his right stayed between you.

He did not move to kiss or look at you. Instead, his eye was fixed on where the tip of his cock now met your entrance.

Whatever pleasure his touch had brought you was gone the minute he began to push into you, your every sense fading to the painful stretch you felt. Your only relief came from it looking like Aemond was in as much pain as you. His jaw was tight, his teeth clenched, and his eye squeezed tightly shut.

So, you fisted the sheets in your hands, curled your toes against the pain, and shut your eyes.

You felt him push further and further in, and a soft hiss escaped his lips as his stones came to rest against you.

Gods, all of him had fit?

He stilled momentarily, bringing his other hand to your side to support him.

Then he began to move. Slowly at first, but quickly building speed. The pain remained, mixed with something entirely unfamiliar to you, something you could not decide whether you enjoyed.

Aemond stilled once again before you could decide, a guttural groan escaping him as his head fell to rest against your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, but you hardly felt it, not as you felt his cock twitching inside you, even when his hips were not moving.

Was that it?

Your breath had grown swift and heavy, and an emptiness settled in your stomach, even as Aemond was still inside you.

When he finally pulled himself from your neck, he looked back at your face. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you again. But your confusion must have been evident on your face, for he immediately looked away and pulled himself from you as he climbed off the bed.

He did not face you as he stuffed himself back in his trousers and righted his eyepatch.

Had you done something wrong?

You sat up to ask him but halted when you felt something wet between your legs. You pushed the volume of your skirts aside to find something thick and white leaking from you.

His seed. He had given you his seed, so you must not have done anything wrong.

You looked back up to find his face flushed as he swiftly turned away from you and walked toward the door.

“Good night,” he whispered.

Then he left.

He had not noticed your hand outstretched toward him, beckoning him to stay.

-

Two weeks passed, and your husband had not returned to your chambers.

Part of you was glad, for the wedding night had left you… confused, to say the least. But sometimes, your mind drifted back to his warmth as he lay atop you. To the softness of his lips on yours. To that feeling that drifted too close to pleasure before he stilled once more.

But each pleasant memory was met with an unpleasant one. The stiff way he moved. The way he so obviously did not want to look at you. How quickly he had finished and left without another glance your way.

When the other ladies of the court asked for details, whether he truly had dragonfire in his blood, you simply blushed and feigned bashfulness. Soon, they grew tired of not receiving a satisfactory answer and left you alone.

As did Aemond, it seemed. You saw him only occasionally, and mostly in an official capacity.

In the Throne Room each day, you dutifully stood beside him as his mother or grandsire held court.

At a reception held for a visiting Dornish lord, Prince, or some other thing, he only danced with you once, moving just as stiffly as he had on your wedding night.

You sat next to him at the evening meals he ate with his family every night. He would help you in and out of your chair, and even held heavy platters for you when you served yourself, but he never spoke to or looked at you for longer than necessary.

His mother did, asking you polite questions about your family and interests. Princess Helaena was very curious about the insects you saw at your family keep and occasionally muttered strange phrases you could not understand. At the first meal, Prince Aegon had made several lewd comments about the bedding, but the Queen silenced him quickly.

If Aemond listened to any of it, he gave no indication.

So, you decided to seek him out yourself. Perhaps he was shy and wanted you to take the first step in building a relationship. You donned your warmest cloak and asked a guard to show you the way to the training yard.

It was not hard to spot him amongst the guards and knights in the yard, for there was no one else in the castle with that long white hair.

He moved with such grace as he fought, entirely at odds with how he had been in your bed. His sword seemed like an extension of his arm – a deadly one. You were wholly enraptured by the sight, filled with disbelief that this was the awkward man you had married.

As the fight ended, with the tip of Aemond’s sword pressed against his opponent’s neck, you felt a hollowness in your stomach. Not quite the same emptiness you felt when he pulled out of you, but a yearning for something.

Perhaps for that pleasure you had just started to feel when he stopped thrusting into you and quickly left.

Indeed, when someone below pointed you out to him, and he looked up at you, his chest heaving with the effort of the fight, a thrill ran down your spine.

But then Aemond grimaced at the sight of you and turned away. Your heart clenched as you watched him angrily discard his weapons and stalk out of the training yard without another glance your way.

That grimace hurt more than all the looks of pity then turned your way as you ran back into the castle.

-

You did not join your husband or his family for the night’s evening meal, citing a headache. When your maids brought you chicken broth and a loaf of lightly buttered bread, you only nibbled at it before sending it away. You had no appetite. Not for anything.

Except perhaps home.

For the first time since you arrived in the capital, in the Red Keep, you wanted to go home.

Home was not as glamorous or exciting as the castle, but at least there were people there who cared for you. Who talked to you.

Here, you were entirely alone.

And alone you would stay, it seemed. It had been exactly two weeks since your wedding day, and Aemond still had not returned to you.

So, you fell into your new routine. After dismissing your maids, you settled into the plush couch by your sitting room hearth, a cup of spiced wine in one hand and a book in the other.

You no longer bothered to wear the silk and lace nightclothes your mother sent with you. There was no one to appreciate them, to be tempted by them. So instead, you donned a long nightgown made of simple, soft white cotton with long flowing sleeves that made you feel like a faerie when they trailed behind you. Atop it was a brocaded dressing gown in the colors of your house, a warm and welcome reminder of home.

Then came the knock at your door. Three soft raps in quick succession.

“Who is it?” you called, though you knew the answer. There was only one person it could be at this hour.

There was a long pause.

“Your husband,” a soft voice replied. “Prince Aemond.”

With shaking legs, you stood, setting down your wine and book, and stepped to the door. You did not look at his face as you cracked it open, not wanting to see another grimace.

“I know who you are,” you whispered. “I have only one husband.”

He did not laugh, but had you been looking, you would have seen his answering smile.

“Are you feeling well?” he asked, still standing just outside the door.

“Quite well,” you said. Then you winced, remembering that you had told the Queen you had a headache. “I mean… better. I feel better.”

Aemond’s brow furrowed, and he blinked several times before speaking again. “May I come in?”

Every muscle in your body tensed, but you stepped back and opened the door further to allow him entry. A good wife did not deny her husband, and despite everything, you were still determined to be a good wife.

He still did not look at you as he examined the room, his gaze lingering on the book you were reading. Then, once again, he stood with his back to you and his arms crossed behind him.

The silence was nearly unbearable. Perhaps if you still thought him simply shy, you could withstand it. But after the way he looked at you in the training yard…

“Is there something I can do for you, husband?” You drew your dressing robe tighter around yourself, feeling more exposed now than when he was bedding you.

Perhaps because you had finally started to make your apartments your own. You felt that with every item, every tapestry or trinket he looked at, he was seeing a piece of your soul.

You watched the curtain of his hair waver slightly as he dipped his head. “Did you really have a headache? Or did you simply not want to endure my family tonight?”

Your heart stilled, and you felt fear seep into your bones. He would not hurt you, of that, you were sure. But you still somehow dreaded disappointing or upsetting him.

“I…” you stammered, unable to form words, much less an answer.

Aemond turned back to you, an unreadable expression in that lone violet eye. “I will not be mad if you did,” he said, somehow knowing your very thoughts. “I often do the same.”

He raised a hand to gesture to his eyepatch and the scar that lay beneath it. “It is not always a lie. That it hurts.”

You blinked, unsure how to react to what he had just told you. The vulnerability of it. He all but ignores you for two weeks, and now this?

“I can leave,” he said suddenly, fixing his hands behind him again. You had not realized he had relaxed his posture until he went rigid again. “If you would prefer it.”

You shook your head weakly. “You don’t have to. I am your wife. It is your right to be here.”

His lip twitched, and he looked almost disappointed at your reply. “It has been two weeks since we were wed.”

“Yes.”

“And we have not… been together since that night.”

“No. We have not.”

Aemond looked away from you again, his breathing suddenly heavier. “We should…” he swallowed thickly. “It is our duty to produce an heir, and we have been neglecting that duty.”

When you were first told you were betrothed to a prince, an idealistic, childish part of you had expected a grand romance. Something worthy of the storybooks.

Never this.

“You are right, my prince,” you whispered, and turned immediately to the bedchamber, not waiting to see if he was following.

Discarding your robe on your armoire, you laid on the bed with your arms crossed in front of you, holding your nightgown up and your legs spread, knees bent to allow him better access. With any luck, he would be finished as quickly as before. Then, perhaps, you would have another two weeks of solitude.

This time, you would not spend it hoping for something he could not give you.

You stared at the ceiling, waiting for him to climb atop you. But he did not come.

Curious, you lifted your head slightly.

Aemond was still in the sitting room, staring at you. Finally, he looked away to undo his belt, which he laid carefully over the back of one of your chairs. Then he removed his jacket, folding it neatly before setting it on the side table. His boots were next and arranged by the hearth to keep them warm.

Only then did he walk to the bedchamber, standing in the doorway as he gazed at your exposed sex.

“Stand up,” he commanded, a rough timbre in his voice.

You were so taken aback that you obeyed immediately, smoothing your nightgown back over your legs.

Aemond followed the movement with that piercing lilac eye of his. “Come here. To me.”

You wanted to ask why, but you could not find your voice. So instead, you were the good little wife you were raised to be, and walked around the bed to stand before him.

He quirked his head as he looked at you, stepping forward to close the gap between you. Then, he reached out to cup your chin in his large, calloused hand and lifted your head to meet his gaze.

His eye flicked down to your lips. “May I kiss you?”

You made a slight, involuntary noise of shock and disbelief. “Why?”

A flash of something you would almost identify as sadness passed over his eyes.

“You are my wife.”

“I know.”

His strong brow crumpled slightly, and he whispered your name gently. “I would very much like to kiss you.”

Only an hour ago, you would never have believed him. But he had just been vulnerable with you, admitting that his eye pained him. And he had come to you to make sure you were alright…

You nodded, the movement small and almost frantic. “You may.”

Aemond did not hesitate. He dove into you eagerly, like he had been waiting for weeks – since that first night together.

His lips were just as soft as you remembered, his skin just as warm. But the kiss was not as stiff. He paused after the initial contact, then kissed you again. He raised his other hand to cradle the back of your head, his long fingers entwining in your hair as he tilted you back to kiss you again and allow him better access to you.

The slight tug on your hair had you whining softly, your lips parting. As soon as they did, you felt something wet flick against them.

Your eyes, which you had not realized you had shut, snapped open. Aemond’s eye was closed, his brow set in concentration. Then, you felt that thing again, coaxing your lips open even further.

It was his tongue, you realized. He was using his tongue to kiss you, just as you had seen true lovers do.

A shiver ran through you, and you panicked.

“Stop!” you cried, pushing away from him.

He froze, his hand still aloft where it had just been tangling in your hair. His eye was wide with that unnamed emotion again, and he whispered your name. A plea, a question.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

Aemond shook his head, not quite understanding. “Kissing you.”

You licked your lips, still tasting him on you. “Why? You did not kiss me before. So why do you need to now?”

Now you knew that look was hurt. You, your words, and your hesitancy, it had hurt him. But he did not give you time to apologize.

“I don’t need to,” he said. “If you don’t want to. We can just… you can get on the bed.”

You nodded again and moved to take up your previous position.

“Can you…” he whispered with a wince of embarrassment as you sat. “Can you take off your nightgown? Please.”

Perhaps you would have refused if you had not felt so guilty for wounding him by asking about the kissing. But you supposed this was as good as an apology and lifted the gown over your head.

You heard Aemond inhale sharply as your breasts were revealed, nipples immediately pebbling in the cold – the fire in the bedchamber had not been lit.

Resisting the urge to cover yourself was one of the hardest things you had ever done. But you gritted your teeth and took up your position.

Hands crossed over your waist, legs apart, knees bent.

At least Aemond returned the favor, removing his shirt and trousers before joining you on the bed. He hovered over you, looking deep into your eyes for a moment, perhaps hoping you would change your mind and let him kiss you again.

But you just stared at him, waiting. You had seen his cock. He was ready. So what was he waiting for?

He gazed at your breasts briefly before sitting back on his knees between your open legs. His cock twitched slightly as he brought his eye to your sex, and he blinked slowly.

Then, Aemond laid his hand on your thigh, rubbing small, slow circles on your soft skin. The tender touch surprised you, but you could not deny it felt… good. The longer his fingers were on you, the more you felt a warm feeling of desire pool in your core.

“What are you doing?” you asked as you fought to steady your breath.

The corners of his mouth lifted into an almost smile. “What I should have done before,” he explained. “You weren’t… made ready for me. I apologize for that.”

“I don’t understand,” you whimpered as his hand drew closer to your folds, which had begun to ache with something that was not quite pain.

Aemond shook his head in what you could have sworn was shame. “You will. It will be better this time, I promise.”

You wanted to say that almost anything would be better than what he had done on your wedding night, but then his fingers reached your core, and words abandoned you.

This touch was different than it had been that night. He was more confident and sure – like he knew now what he was looking for and what he was doing.

He was gentle as he circled your entrance, the movement focused but slow. Your stomach tightened as your toes curled, but you gave no other reaction. How could you when you did not know what he was doing or what he wanted?

You were sure he wanted something. Why else would he be looking at you like that?

So, you offered him a tight smile.

It seemed to encourage him. With his index finger still stroking your entrance, his thumb climbed slowly upwards, spreading the slick that had leaked from you through your folds. The sensation was similar to, albeit less intense than, his previous ministrations.

That is, until his thumb slipped under a small hood of flushed skin at the top of your sex, and lightning shot through your every nerve. Your mouth fell open, and your back arched out of your control.

Had your eyes not been so tightly shut, you would have seen a look of utter triumph come over Aemond’s face. His thumb stayed where it was, circling that spot – that bud – slowly but firmly.

This was pleasure, you realized as the lighting crackled under your skin over and over again with every swipe. Different from what you had begun to feel when he was inside you, but pleasure all the same.

Is this what all those women had laughed about when they asked you about the bedding? They wanted to know whether you had felt this?

Your legs began to shake, and it became hard to breathe. The pleasure building and building within you began to terrify you.

It couldn’t go on like this. It couldn’t just keep growing on and on. It would become too much – it already was too much.

“Stop,” you begged when you were able to gulp in a breath. “Please.”

Aemond’s fingers immediately stilled, that look of hurt once more creasing his brow. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just wanted… did I hurt you?”

You shook your head.

“Did it… feel good?”

Gods, it had felt so good. Too good. It felt almost sinful.

But you weren’t about to admit that.

You readjusted to your original position and waited until your breathing had calmed.

“Can you just…” you licked your lips, suddenly realizing they had gone dry. “Do what you need to do? I’m quite tired.”

His hand, still braced on your thigh, tightened, then relaxed and slid away. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” you whispered as you heard the soft sounds of him pumping his cock to prepare himself.

He did not lean over you this time but remained kneeling between your legs as he gently gripped your hips and pulled you towards him. It did not hurt as much when he entered you again, though the stretching was still uncomfortable.

That same low grunting sound escaped him when he was fully sheathed within you, and he stilled for a moment.

You realized for the first time that maybe he needed that moment of adjustment as much as you did.

But then he began to move. The motion wasn’t as stiff as it had been on your wedding night – not a simply thrusting in and out, but a smooth rolling of his hips.

That other feeling of pleasure you had just begun to feel that last time came to you sooner, more intensely. Then, after one particularly deep thrust, another bolt of lightning ran through you.

A gasp escaped you, and your eyes immediately snapped to Aemond’s face.

His own eye was wide, his lips parted, and jaw slack. He smiled at you like you had just given him a present with that reaction.

Your cheeks flushed, and you turned your head away and into the pillow below you.

Aemond’s movements became more stilted after that, and it was only moments after when he stilled again, and you felt him twitch within you once more. He did not make a noise this time.

He climbed out of bed and, only after dressing again, turned back to you.

It was hard to meet his gaze.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asked softly, his tone reminiscent of a scolded child. “I won’t… I will be quick, I promise.”

Guilt crept into you at the desperation in his voice, knowing you had been its cause. You moved to the edge of the bed near him and tried to smile. “You may.”

Aemond moved haltingly as he leaned down and cupped your cheek, his touch like fire on your skin. It was almost as though he expected you to shy away, to take back your permission.

But you didn’t. And he kissed you – quickly, as he had promised. There was not a hint of his tongue.

Then he thanked you and left.

As you fell back against the pillows, you tried not to think about how you almost missed the feeling of his tongue against your lips and his thumb circling that little bud between your legs.

-

“Well, did she come?” Aegon asked the next day, without pretense, manners, or shame.

Aemond bit his lip, knowing what his brother’s response would be. “No. She asked me… to stop pleasuring her and do my marital duty.”

As expected, Aegon nearly fell out of his chair with hysterical laughter. Grand Maester Orwyle and Lord Jasper Wylde – who had both been helping Aemond understand how to better please his wife – grimaced and exchanged a look Aemond did not particularly care to interpret.

“She would rather you breed her like an animal and leave her alone than come?” Aegon barked, shaking his head. “Oh, brother, you are hopeless.”

“I respected her wishes,” Aemond hissed. “Unlike some, I do not force myself on women.”

“No, you just fuck them bone-dry.”

“She wasn’t – ” Aemond swallowed, clenching his fists behind his back to keep him from throttling his brother. “Not this time.”

Sensing the conversation was teetering dangerously close to physical blows, Lord Wylde cut in. “I think, my Prince, it is important to remember that there is a… romantic element to sex. It is not simply a function of the body, but of the heart.”

Aegon groaned.

“Lord Wylde is correct, my Prince,” Orwyle added. “It may do you some good to try and woo her before taking her to bed again. A learned technique can only accomplish so much if she does not crave your touch to begin with.”

“And what would you know about it?” Aegon asked the Grand Maester. “Haven’t you taken a vow of virginity?”

Orwyle’s face remained as impassive as stone. “I have, my Prince. But stimulating arousal, and even orgasm, in women has many medicinal uses. It can have great effect in treating hysteria and melancholy, and even easing the pain of birthing labors, to name a few.”

Aegon’s eyes narrowed. “Did you… have you made Helaena come? Seven hells, have you fingered my wife, Orwyle?”

The Maester said nothing, and that was answer enough.

But before Aegon could say anything more – no one was sure whether he would be offended or impressed – Aemond stepped forward, extending his hands before him as if he could grab the answer to his question.

“I do not know how,” he gritted out.

Neither Orwyle nor Wylde had an answer for him.

Aegon examined his brother and suddenly saw how genuinely desperate he was. The tension in his every muscle leaving him practically trembling before them. The way he refused to meet any of their eyes. And the slight flush on his cheeks.

“Aemond,” he started, all amusement banished from his face. “Do you… love her?”

The One-Eyed Prince looked as though he might cry. Or snap and kill them all. It could be either. Perhaps both.

“She…” he whispered, blinking rapidly as he searched for the words, his silver tongue failing him. “She is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. She is soft, and gentle, and kind. And when I went to her chambers last night…”

He broke off and laughed slightly. Then nodded his head like he had found his answer. “She was reading my favorite book.”

The three other men glanced at each other, exchanging raised brows and wide eyes.

It was Lord Wylde who finally spoke. “You have common ground then, my Prince. That is a good place to start.”

Fan Fic Masterlist

All These are of fan fics that I like

Pedro Pascal Characters

Peaky Blinders

Harry Potter

Stranger Things

Loki

House of The Dragon

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Asrior, Hlin, Thor (Marvel), Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Warriors Three (Marvel), Sif (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Hogun (Marvel), Pepper Potts, Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Kagoq, Valtur the Unmerciful, Ragnar the Undaunted, Sazur Additional Tags: Asgard (Marvel), Avengers in Asgard, Canon Divergence - Post-Thor: The Dark World, POV Loki (Marvel), POV Female Character, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Angst and Fluff and Smut, Uneasy Allies, Developing Friendships, Drama & Romance, Loki is Not Amused (Marvel), Slow Burn, Danger Summary:

After paying for his crimes, Loki has earned back Thor’s trust if not the other Avengers. And though the God of Lies believes that he has reformed, he takes a dangerous path toward revenge—and his enemy’s daughter must pay the price for his convictions before he realizes how much he has yet to learn. Loki/OFC, Thor, warriors of Asgard, Tony S., Bruce B., Cap, and other superheroes.

“Mixed Signals” - Masterlist

Alfie Solomons x modern!reader - social media/university au

summary; you finally move out of your parents house to live and study in London with your older brother Michael, your cousins and friends. You don’t know anyone in the city, besides them, and frankly, you don’t feel the need to get to know anyone new…well maybe except that one guy with a dog who you saw at a party that you didn’t want to go to.

PART 1

PART 2 

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

PART 6 

PART 7

PART 8

PART 9

PART 10

PART 11

PART 12

PART 13

these moments | john shelby

@ateliefloresdaprimavera wanted, and I quote: “happy,married to the love of his life John and [reader] who’s like a daughter to Polly”

hope you like it, hun!

You marched down the street, half angry, half exhausted. Groups of kids were running up and down and you cast an eye out to check whether any of yours were there. Men tipped their caps to you as you passed and you barged your shoulder into Polly’s front door, slamming it behind you.

“I got fucking fired, didn’t I?”

“Lovely to see you too, sweetheart. Sit yourself down. Kettle’s just boiled, you can explain yourself”

You huffed, yanking your scarf off and chucking it over the back of a chair.

“Thanks Pol. Where’s the kids?”

“John’s got them”

“John’s got them?”

Polly cast a look up to you as she brewed the pot and smirked when she saw your confused look.

“He was showing Katie her numbers and the rest wouldn’t let them be, you know what they’re like”

“Sorry, no, go back – John’s got the kids? By himself?”

She chuckled to herself and slid a cup over to you.

“Sit yourself down. And explain”

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Vencuyanir Masterlist

vencuyanir [ven-COO-yah-neer]: sustain, keep alive, preserve

Summary: About to be taken away from Arvala-7, Elana only has two objectives: keeping Bean alive and getting away from the Mandalorian

Words: 132.1k (so far)

Tags: slow burn, mutual pining, enemies to friends to lovers, canon rewrite/expansion, missing scenes, character study, relationship study, worldbuilding

Rating: Teen and Up/13+

Warnings: canon-typical violence, angst, specific warnings above each chapter

Main Masterlist | AO3 

Preview:

The Mandalorian’s helmet then snapped around to her, and she flinched again. “Are you its caretaker?” he asked gruffly. Elana barely managed to nod, scared out of her wits.

He was quiet for a long time, his presence alone enough to make her hold her breath. Then he walked over, and took off her cuff more gently than she would have expected from a bounty hunter.

She looked up at him, shaking in fear, the visor glaring down menacingly. A low command came from him, causing shivers to run down her back.

“Pack your things.”

Face claim for Elana: Meng Ziyi (x) (x) (x) (x)

Moodboards/Art:

(x) (x) by @adikaofmandalore

(x) by @huliabitch

(x) by @astroboots

(x) by @rysttle (commissioned by @callmekaza)

(x) by @what-the–curtains

Fics/Headcanons:

Dreams and Nightmares by @justahorsewithnoname

Some headcanons about Elana’s past (0.5k)

Chapters:

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