summary: while high, you and your two best friends get into the usual trouble, this time with something more..
pairing: kat taylor x fem!reader x bobby franklin
warning (s): porn with little plot, mention of drug use (weed), threesome, f/f/m sex, high sex, fingering, tit sucking, male masturbation, face riding, oral (fem!receiving)
word count: 3.1k
a/n: i love them and i’m already thinking of carrying this on when they go into the backrooms, and bring reader with them. based on this ask, by this lovely @thefaetellsnotales .beware this isn’t exactly proofread and iam sick, but i hope you sexies enjoy 💗
“Are we even meant to be here?”
“Come on, it’s closed.. no one’s here I promise.”
The shutter retracted up with a clatter, the three of you ducking in one by one before Kat dragged it back down to the floor, twisting the key at the bottom to lock it.
You coughed as you stood, the air thick with the faint smell of bleach and old lint. It was to be expected from a furniture store you supposed, especially one that didn’t get much movement from well.. anyone.
“Hey is there a light in here?” You spoke through the darkness, turning to catch the silhouettes standing behind you.
“This way.”
An arm hooked around your waist before you could answer, and through the dim light you made it out who it was. A scent of roses and cocoa butter covered the smell of pot, and the coolness of her bangles rubbed against your arm as Kat angled you both across the floor.
You made it a few paces to the back wall before a gold glow lit up from the far corner.
Bobby.
He fumbled with the string of an antique lamp, unwrapping the straps of his camera as he set it onto a nightstand, turning to face you both with a scrunch in his brow.
“Does Clark really sleep on these things? They’re fuckin’ hard.” His hand pressed into the mattress, shoving it up and down before it bounced back into his hand.
“Don’t complain about it now, it was your idea. And yeah.. he does..” Kat looked up at him with that familiar look of sarcasm, shrugging beside you as she swung the backpack from her arm and onto a dresser. Her arm reached into it, rummaging as you leant against the wood.
“Your manager sleeps in his own store?” She huffed a laugh at your quirked brow.
“He’s kind of.. down and out, it’s the only place he has right now.”
“Then where is he?”
“I’m not sure, out of town for something he’s gone crazy about, something he’s found apparently.”
She eventually pulled out a packet of ‘jiffy pop’ from the bag with a proud smile, “Right Im gonna get us actual food.”
Kat turned on her heel, placing a hand on your shoulder before giving it a squeeze.
“Don’t get into too much trouble.. and.. don’t let Bobby touch anything.”
Kat disappeared down the hall in search of the break room, leaving you standing in the middle of Clark's furniture store trying not to laugh at how ridiculous this was.
You had been lying in their apartment for hours before one of you, not that you could hardly remember, mentioned heading out. And after however long of wandering through town, the last glimpses of the sunset burning into the dark, you’d made it to Clark’s.
"Yeah if we don’t get arrested for a break in."
Bobby had already claimed an entire display bedroom for himself, setting it up for you all. The bed was wide, king sized it read from the poster, with deep blue sheets and off white pillows, discoloured it looked from that angle.
"Nah," he said, kicking off his shoes and throwing himself backwards onto the mattress. "This is basically a hotel."
"It’s a furniture store." You crossed your arms watching him with a squint.
"Exactly, free hotel."
The mattress bounced as he spread his arms dramatically with a smirk. Half of the lights had been switched off for the night, leaving the showroom glowing in soft amber pools, and somehow it actually made it look homely. Not the empty, stale place the three of you usually made fun of.
Your eyes wandered over the space, fighting a smile. The whole place felt surreal. Couches were arranged like fake living rooms, lamps casting warm circles of light, rows of untouched beds stretching into darkness, and the staircase behind you leading to the lower level. Not creepy at all.
You found yourself drifting where Kat had disappeared to. The three of you had been inseparable all evening, and lately it had only grown, like some undergrown strange tension that crept on you all slowly. Being friends for years would do that you supposed, but it always seemed as if there was more. Like gravity pulled you together just as you all had stayed close. The lingering glances, the casual touches that lasted a little too long, and some sort of feeling nobody seemed quite ready to put into words.
They’d been dating for two years, and you’d been happy for them, even remembered the exact day they’d came come from school in the late afternoon to your house just to tell you.
“So you’re together, together?” You leaned on the doorframe, eyes wide with excitement.
“Hell yeah.” Bobby’s arm slung around Kat’s shoulders with a proud grin.
“Not that this changes anything, he’s still an idiot, and you’re still my favourite.” Kat smirked at you.
“Hey—“ Kat swatted him in the stomach before grabbing onto you and ushering you outside into whatever left of the summer sun there was.
And she was right, it didn’t change anything at all. If anything it brought you all closer. There wasn’t anything unspoken, it was all out in the open and comfortable, except for one thing. How they had felt for you.
Bobby patted the spot beside him.
"Come test the merchandise." He spoke up, gesturing his head toward his hand.
"You sound like a salesman."
"I'm the best salesman Clark's ever had."
The thought made you laugh, yeah right.
You stepped forward anyway, the bed dipping beneath your weight as you kicked off your shoes and climbed on. Neither of you said anything at first, just laying a single arm length’s away as you realised he was right.
The mattress was hard, sticking into your back through the plump covers. Though it should have been expected, it’s a display. So much for getting high beforehand, you hadn’t through that far. So you made do with what you could, snagging the fur blanket from the end of the bed and tucking it behind you both.
The flicker of the TV box he’d angled into a chest of drawers, lit up your faces through the shadowed space, returns of old tv shows muffled in the background. And both of you were engrossed, staring into the flashing colours fading in and out.
You felt eyes on you after a while, staring into you from the side. Bobby had turned his head slightly, blue eyes burning into you, and you turned yours.
His grin had disappeared somewhere along the way, leaving only the twinkle in gaze, something you’d always noticed reserved for one other person. The one they reserved for eachother.
"You're staring." Bobby whispered dropping his head between you both teasingly.
"No I'm not." You kicked his leg lightly, shaking the buzz from your head, but it didn’t seem to lift, instead it grew, a shiver wracking the back of you spine.
"You are.”
"You started it.” The wood of the headboard creaked behind you as you braced your knees up, tucking them toward your chest.
That earned a laugh, a breathy one like the air had been punched from his lungs as he sat up, and then suddenly you were both laughing. The kind of laughter that came from being slightly high, and running entirely on bad decisions.
Bobby's shoulder brushed yours then, quick and tender, so quick it could have been ignored, but you were already heightened, alert to every movement around you. Neither of you moved away, his eyes flicking down briefly before returning to yours.
"Hey." He rasped softly, lips parted as he turned to rest onto his arm.
"Hey." You whispered back, swallowing thickly.
“Bobby I don’t think..”
You weren’t able to continue, to telll him it was a bad idea, that it was wrong, but before either of you could overthink it, he leaned in.
The kiss was soft. Tentative and warm, his lips brushing over yours with a desperate tenderness, and you almost melted into it, almost.
You jumped apart from him when you heard footsteps, catching the gaze of your best friend in your peripheral. Bobby only retracted, still ghosting your lips as he released the palm he’d placed on your cheek.
Kat appeared around the corner, standing beside the TV stand, carrying the popcorn in a bowl she’d somehow found. Her eyes darted to Bobby, then at you and then back to Bobby, a hand moving to her hip, and for a moment none of you said anything.
"...Seriously?"
“Kat I can—“ Your face burned.
Bobby immediately pointed at you, “Her fault.”
"My fault?" You whipped your head toward him.
"Absolutely." His face was unreadable, even if the smirk that pulled at his lips was far from innocent.
Kat stared for another second before letting out a laugh so hard the bowl of popcorn ruffled in her hands.
"You two are unbelievable. You couldn’t have waited for me?”
She tossed the bowl softly onto the bed and climbed onto the mattress beside you. You only stared at her, at both of them, eyes wandering where your heart hammered in your chest in a way you didn’t know how to feel. Shame? Guilt?
“Really I didn’t think—“ The words left your mouth before you could hardly speak, stumbling over them to explain.
“You have no idea how long we’ve waited to do that.” Kat cut you off gently, settling herself comfortable under the blanket.
Desire—
“You— uh, what?” Your head snapped up, and she just nodded, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth with a smirk, handing the bowl over to you.
We. The word lingered in your head, stirring your senses as if you’d been dreaming. But they only smiled at you, amused by the dumbfounded look on your face, as if all of it, their own agreement of you, had been common knowledge.
The three of you collapsed into a tangled pile of blankets and laughter, yours somewhat in disbelief. But even as the three of you rested back, Kat bumped her shoulder against yours.
"Move over."
You rolled your eyes and listened, shuffling over into the very middle of the bed, both of their leg’s sticking into yours from the sides. “Bossy."
"Always."
Bobby groaned dramatically as Kat stole half of the blanket, and with the minutes passing and him still busy complaining about the blanket theft, Kat glanced over at you and the playful expression on her face softened.
"Come here," she said quietly, beckoning you over with the pull of her fingers. And before you could ask what she meant, not that you bothered to question, she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.
She looked just as surprised as you felt when she pulled back, her hand splaying at your hip. Bobby blinked from behind you, grinning softly, leaning around you both where you could both see him.
"Oh, so we're all doing that now?"
Kat reached at her side and threw the pillow behind her back at him. The three of you dissolved into laughter again, and that time nobody seemed interested in pretending that nothing had happened.
Because there was something different underneath it all. Something shared between all three of you finally coming undone.
You shook your head, resting back into one another and staring mindlessly at the static buzzing from the television. The three of you must have passed another two blunts between you when the haze grew, thick and heady. The room contorting amongst you all into something more heated, as if the air had been sucked from the space entirely. A leg slid up against yours, and fingertips touched at your thigh.
Kat steadied her hand there as your breath stuttered, the cool air of Bobby’s exhale sifting right at the back of your neck. Your noses bumped then, rocking back and forth as your breaths mingled, lips ghosting through lidded eyes and exhilaration.
“Hey, you know we haven’t got to do anything you don’t want to.” She was breathless, brown eyes gazing into yours with careful consideration that washed all over your face.
“You want this?” You tilted to look at both of them, Bobby and Kat looked at each other over either side of you and meeting back to you, their hands curled around one another’s, “Uh.. yeah, more than anything..”
You nodded slowly, the breath catching in your throat, “Then I want to.” Your hand curled around Kat’s neck as she dipped back to kiss you, this time hungrier, her tongue sweeping across your lip, and inching you both back against the headboard.
“You’re so so pretty..” She mumbled into your lips with skin pressed against skin your tongues locking around each others and another pair of lips at your neck.
“Open up for me Angel..” Bobby called out to you, arm bending over your waist and snaking the t-shirt from on you. You retracted only for a moment, the material being pulled away and tossed over on the floor, revealing the swell of your breasts. Long, warm fingers tweaked your nipple before his body had bent over you, sucking one into his mouth. His tongue was hot against your the sensitive bud, swirling harshly until you moaned into Kat’s mouth.
One hand fell into his hair, threading through the fine blonde strands as you arched into the feeling, his hand staying gripped at your hip to keep you in place.
His own t-shirt rose over his head with one steady tug, reaching for your hand to put it against his skin, letting you feel him. You traced the warm planes of muscle, down his chest and to his abs, and further along the v of that dipped beneath his jean shorts. Bobby shuddered against you, pressing into your thigh, and trailing his fingers down your sides.
You watched them through the haze, a gentle buzzing in your fingertips and your chest. The high from the pot or them you couldn’t tell, and not that it mattered.
They pulled away only for a moment, impatient and needily, Kat’s arms rising on instinct as he helped her take the rest of her clothes off, sliding her shorts down the legs before her fingers worked at undoing his belt buckle, reaching to cup the bulge beneath his pants, already tented and aching. “Save it.. for next time baby.” She mumbled against his lips over you, and he groaned into the kiss with a slight nod.
Next time.
He shrugged the rest of his clothes off, leaving him only in his underwear, the hard line of his cock poking through the dark fabric. She rose beside him, the curve of her breasts shadowed beautifully in the golden light, and the tan flesh of her thighs curling over yours. The pressure swirled in your belly at the sight, arousal coating slick between your thighs.
Bobby settled behind you, an arm slipping around your waist as though he’d always belonged there, and the warmth of him at your back only made Kat’s presence in front feel more overwhelming. You shivered at the feeling, hands moving between the both of them as they settled.
Kat’s fingers brushed loose hair from your face before cupping your cheek, foreheads touching briefly, sharing a knowing smile that felt private despite the crowded tangle of limbs and blankets.
“There you are,” Kat murmured softly.
The attention from both sides left you breathless, almost unable to move if you couldn’t feel the thump of heartbeats and burning touch of skin.
Bobby’s chin stayed pressed to your shoulder, his hands sliding lower, gripping your hips to keep you pinned between them. Kat’s mouth claimed yours again, her tongue sliding deep while her fingers pinched your nipple hard enough to make your back arch. Bobby’s cock dragged along the cleft of your ass, thick and hot, already leaking as he rocked forward in slow, deliberate thrusts that never quite pushed inside.
"Fuck, you’re soaked," he muttered against your neck, teeth scraping over the fresh mark he’d just sucked there. His tongue followed, licking the sting away before he dropped lower, body snaking further down the bed, spreading your thighs wider with his shoulders. The cool air hit your pussy, as he turned you onto your back, both pairs of eyes flicking between you he gave one long, filthy lick from your entrance to your clit, making your whole body jerk back against the ruffled sheets. He groaned into your cunt like he was starving, sucking your swollen clit between his lips and flicking it with the tip of his tongue, teasing two thick fingers through your folds.
Kat swallowed your broken moan, grinding her soaked pussy against your thigh. She grabbed your wrist and moved your hand between her legs. "Please.." Your fingers slid through her slick folds, her legs widening as two of them sunk knuckle-deep into her tight heat while your thumb rubbed tight circles over her clit. She rode your hand with short, desperate rolls of her hips, her juices coating your palm as she panted into your mouth.
Bobby pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his tongue, fucking you with it in messy, wet strokes before he sucked your clit again, loud and obscene. Spit and your arousal dripped down his chin, his one hand keeping you spread open while the other stroked his cock in time with every thrust of his tongue.
"Taste so fucking good," he groaned, voice muffled against your pussy. Kat fluttered around your fingers as she came with a sharp cry, her thighs shaking and wetness gushing over your hand. She didn’t stop moving, she only kissed you harder, biting your lower lip while her fingers found your other breast and squeezed it into her hand.
Bobby clamped at your thighs, tugging you further down onto his mouth as you mewled, bucking your hips against his face while your fingers pumped in and out of Kat’s wetness, drawing all of you closer to your edge. He rubbed himself into the sheets, fucking himself through the rough fabric of his pants and into his palm desperately.
Moans filled the room of the empty store, so confined and warm, that all care for even being there had left your mind, filled with the haze of them fucking you. You felt the peak of your climax, falling over the edge with the burn of Kat’s whines into your neck and Bobby’s tongue.
“Fuck, make her come Bobby..”
Kat straddled your chest, knees planted on either side of your head, lowering herself onto your waiting mouth, grinding down with a breathy moan as your tongue pushed inside her. Your tongue and sucked at her swollen clit while she rocked against your face her brow pulled tight as she gripped the headboard. Her juices coated your chin and cheeks, as she rode you harder, Bobby’s face still buried between your spread thighs, tongue working in relentless, sloppy strokes.
He dragged the flat of it up through your soaked folds, circled your swollen clit, plunging back down to fuck into your dripping hole. Every lewd sound and moan echoed in the quiet room, his fingers digging into your ass, holding you open while he rode you through your high.
Your own climax hit fast and hard, crashing over your body in a wave and making you come with a muffled cry, your fingers tightening at Kat’s waist. Your thighs clamped around Bobby’s head as your pussy clenched and pulsed, fresh wetness flooding his tongue and he groaned into you, lapping it up greedily while his hips jerked against the mattress. The friction against his trapped cock was too much, “Fuck fuck fuck..” He came with a broken grunt after a few sloppy thrusts, hot cum soaking through his pants in thick spurts, his whole body shuddering between your legs.
Kat followed seconds later, her hips stuttering over your tongue as she came, grinding down hard, her thighs shaking on either side of your head. She cried out into her hand, gushing over your lips and chin, riding out every wave until she finally went limp. The golden strands of his hair fell into his eyes, his forehead rocked into your inner thigh as he finally let up, panting to catch his breath.
Her body fell down beside you, climbing from you carefully where the three of you collapsed together in the tangled sheets, a hazy sheen coating your bodies.
Kat slid to curl against your side, her face tucked into your neck, still breathing hard. Bobby crawled up behind you, pressing his sticky, cum-wet front to your back and wrapping an arm around both of you. His breath warmed your shoulder as he nuzzled closer. Kat’s fingers traced lazy circles on your stomach while Bobby’s hand rested heavy on your hip. No one spoke. Just the sound of slowing breaths and the quiet creak of the bed as you all melted into one another, warm and spent.
The three of you lay there, tucked and blissed out in a bed you shouldn’t have been in, veiled moonlight peeking through the thin shutters in the small glow of the showroom. Every buzz of the high eased off into a comfortable tiredness, as your breathing evened out.
“I think I need new shorts.” Bobby mumbled into your back, and you let out a short giggle hearing the smack against muscle from Kat’s hand reaching over. But none of you bothered to move, his shoulders shrugging, and the pair of them cuddling around you as his arm swung over you both.
So much for bad decisions. But secretly, none you hoped it would end. After all, it was just the beginning of something none of you were ready for.
Don’t say hello, it’s time to go | Daeron Targaryen
Rating: Mature
A/N: idk this has been brewing but I got the itch to finish it. Thinking that Aemon graduated from the Citadel and congrats son go heal your STD ridden brother❤️
Tags: ye olde SYPHILIS, vague descriptions of sores and such, angst, Daeron death bed spectacular, dreams and doom and mercury treatment, wife reader, Vaella is theirs, happy ending if you want it, no beta blow me
It began some time after your daughter with Daeron was born—a visit to King’s Landing to see your good-father. Daeron did as he pleased. He’d get piss drunk and visit whores. Dragonstone didn’t allow for such indulgence. Your husband retracted his embraces after duty was fulfilled.
He abhorred duty. You’d accepted that early on. The best you could do for your family was marry Vaella to Aerion’s son if he proved not to be mad or a cousin, perhaps a powerful Lord. If her mind would strengthen…you worried she would remain childlike as she continued to age.
Daeron was sweet to her, enamored really— your daughter was precious, taking after her father with periwinkle eyes and sandy blonde hair. He had smiled when she was born, soft affection on his usually somber expression.
Daeron had not been allowed near her or you for some months. As you said, it began after a trip. It was simple— visit the King, discuss succession, and let Vaella bear Maekar’s cups for a fortnight before returning to Dragonstone, Daeron lamenting the gloomy ancestral keep on the voyage back.
It was merely days later before Daeron had come to Aemon. Your good-brother was fully trained as a maester now and dedicated to the Prince of Dragonstone. Your husband had noted a strange raising of skin on his nethers.
You figured it would be a quick fix, but it wasn’t the first time Daeron had caught something from a Flea Bottom whore much to your chagrin. Aemon administered teas and a poultice. The curious lump disappeared to your relief. Only to come back— this time in a rash of reddish bumps all over Daeron’s skin.
Aemon had tried to soothe your worries at first with knowledge. Yet you knew it had gone out of his depth from the nights you’d watched Aemon send ravens and pour over books. Finally, he turned to reality, the mild-mannered prince-turned-maester informed you, “It’s a rare pox not commonly seen in Westeros. Quicksilver will help. For now, you and Vaella will have to keep to your rooms due to infection.”
How you hated the agony Daeron was in. Bedridden, fatigued, and those horrid lesions. You’d watch from the door, a cloth over your mouth watching him sweat from treatment— half-conscious from the milk of the poppy. Sickness lingered in the air. He mumbled about terrible things when he was coherent enough to sip on soup or soft bread.
Horrid.
Vaella, ten years of age and too sweet for her own good asked softly as she played with her dolls.
“Will Papa be okay? I wish to see him.”
Your throat tightened as you nodded with a little smile, “Yes, dear girl. Maester Aemon is taking good care of him. We should see your papa soon. He will be pleased to see his precious girl.”
She smiled, hugged the doll as she declared, “We will bring him a gift. So papa will smile.”
Your throat tightened as you hummed, “We will, Vae. Perhaps a nice silky tunic so he will be comfortable. Some flowers from the garden to lighten his chambers.”
She giggled, nodded. You pet her sandy hair, haunted by how familiar she looked to Daeron— before he lay diseased and confused. The flowers may mend the scent of sores, liniments, and incense. The rot would linger, you thought miserably.
Time had passed. The sores and spots had diminished. Aemon declared it safe to sit with him, but nothing more. You could almost scoff. The days of your newlywed passion had fizzled with every death of another Targaryen. Another moon where your womb did not quicken. Two of your babes were interred in the grounds at Summerhall. Malformed, sickly things that never took a first breath. You bore the grief and carried on.
On the other hand, Daeron hated himself, hated your unconditional love. Loving touch turned to a single-minded purpose. Silence would lie across your bedchambers as he would fill you with seed and roll over to drink more.
There was a brief interlude of happiness when you were pregnant with Vaella. Daeron was doting, kept to Summerhall and away from the tavern down the road. Caress your stomach and kiss your neck, voice soft, “You’re magnificent, you are, my beloved wife.”
You blinked back from your reverie, holding Daella’s hand as she carried the wrapped tunic and you held the flowers. Daeron had been less ill physically, occasionally experiencing the outbreak of bumps, but his mind had taken a sharp turn. Foul moods, depression darker than before, and dreams that he saw in the waking day.
Aemon suggested the gifts might brighten the prince’s sour disposition and informed you he had been of a good temperament. That Daeron was lucid.
A singular Kingsguard stood aside, eyes flicking to you. Vaella chirped a hullo. You took a breath, pushing the door open. Daeron sat by the window— the sulfurous breeze flowing in from the Dragonmont, the faint tang of ozone and salt in your mouth upon entering.
He looked drawn, hair tied back to expose the scar from Ashford. He leaned on his hand, a goblet sitting close by. Daeron’s eyes flitted over both of you. He spoke quickly in an attempt for your girl not to hear, “I don’t wish for her to come close.”
Vaella blinked, confused.
“Aemon said you were fine to visit. No sores, no aches yes?” You questioned.
Vaella hurried over to her father. Daeron stiffened— eyes flitting to you with fear. You came closer yourself, taking a seat across from your husband at the table, chiding, “Vae, mind yourself.”
The girl did stop. She glanced at you before she held the present out. You put the fragrant flowers within an old pitcher. Vaella shied a little— she had not been permitted to see him of late. Your girl murmured, “I got you a gift, papa, so you may rest better.”
Daeron looked teary, his voice soft as he took the wrapped tunic, “My sweet Vaella. How kind of you. You warm my heart.”
She gestured, periwinkle eyes sparkling.
“You can open it!”
Daeron gave a brisk nod, lips turning up, his eyes still glassy. He carefully peeled back the layer to reveal a thin silk tunic. Well made in lively green he liked. You’d gotten it from a Dornish trader on the last visit.
“Why, Vaella, I’ll sleep soundly,” he declared to her delighted giggles. You smiled along despite knowing he didn’t sleep. It was induced darkness from poppy milk or wine— or the dreams. The damnable dreams you hated so. Dreams of death and dragons he naught knew when would happen. Past and future mixed up to bring him agony.
He sighed, bringing her in briefly, petting the girl's hair, mumbling soft words to the girl. Daeron looked reluctant, eyes over to you once more. You murmured, “There we are. Papa is very tired but you’ll get to see him now. Come here, Vaella.”
She frowned a little before trailing to your skirts, ever the sweet little thing. Her wide eyes peered up, blonde curls framing her delicate features.
“I’ll see him soon? Yes?”
Your heart ached. You pet her hair gently before thumbing her cheek.
“Yes, my love. Your septa is going to come take you and wash you. Maester Aemon will have you help him after. How does that sound?”
She nodded, smiling, briefly glancing back at Daeron before chirping, “Yes mother. I will help nuncle. So Papa may get better.”
Your husband forced a quirk of his lips.
The septa took Vaella— leaving you and Daeron alone in formerly shared chambers. He exhaled, slumping in the chair before gulping wine. He slouched— reminding you of better times, playfully chiding him to sit like a prince.
“I’m a prince in name.”
You folded your hands in your lap, looking over. Your heart ached. Daeron murmured, “This will kill me. I’m too much of a coward to tell the girl.”
“She wouldn’t understand,” you said tightly.
He frowned and took another swallow of the red wine. Silence stretched on uncomfortably. Daeron shifted, a hand restless on his thigh. He exhaled, “I dreamt of this too. Now I see your sad face. Too many sad faces, for what I do not know. There’s the rot, I see the rot within, clawing out. It’s all in my head, a black festering.”
You frowned. You had suspected as much, his decline in the last two years. You held frustration. For Vaella. Perhaps you within. Your voice sounded bitter and foreign.
“Why couldn’t you have gone to a courtesan instead of fucking back alley whores?”
He huffed a laugh, head cocking as his pale eyes focused on you. Daeron huffed, “I felt it was right at the time. Too drunk to give a damn. The courtesans made me feel guilty, too pretty.”
“Too pretty. So you know you’re to leave your daughter and..” you trailed off, jaw snapping shut. You added in a cold whisper, “You will spend your days with Vae unless your mind doesn’t allow it.”
Daeron nodded, expression glum as he drank from the goblet. He moved his hand on a lean thigh, eyes focusing on nothing. He bit out, “I would like to see you too, you know. If you can bear it. I understand-“
The bitterness melted within your breast.
“Quiet with your self-pity, I’ll come in here,” you huffed, “I will miss you, you bastard.”
Daeron huffed a laugh, eyes flicking to you.
“Ah, I did miss you calling me that. Brings me out of my self-imposed misery. Eases the bite when it’s you calling me a bastard, still looking like a vision,” he said, giving a small smile, tired eyes gleaming with amusement.
“A vision,” you repeated, waving a hand.
“I mean it, you’re lovely as when I first met you,” the prince murmured, swirling the goblet around.
“Yes, where I came to Summerhall and you got sick at dinner,” you snorted.
Daeron almost had a look of sheepishness on his face. You hated how content he was with death, yet you knew. No more dreams. No more pressure. No place for anxiety and disappointment.
“I still thought you handsome,” you shrugged.
He scoffed before allowing a little smile upon his lips, brows raising.
“Handsome? Perhaps if you like a flimsy reed,” Daeron murmured, adding after a pause, “That always did baffle me. Your devotion, even from the beginning.”
You opened your mouth only for Daeron to hold up a long finger as he took some swigs from his cup, refilling it with one hand. You waited, rolling your eyes at his flair for nonsense.
“I think in another life we live happier. Free. Vaella too,” he said quietly— the amusement gone from his face to reveal raw exhaustion. Perhaps regret. His moods were mercurial these days.
Daeron sat back with a breath, pale periwinkle eyes stuck on a place behind your as they unfocused. One of his hands tightened around the goblet, the other on the armrest of the chair. Your heart ached and tightened uncomfortably at the sight.
“It was a dream long ago. I have decent ones now and then. Too murky. But it was Vae by the seaside. Your hand in mine. I was a true man. A good one.”
He trailed off before blinking, his curved lips tightening into a grimace before he exhaled audibly, hands loosened from where they had gripped.
“I would try again. Given the chance. I have prayed for that,” the blonde lamented.
He prayed? And you thought he swore off the divine.
You noticed how frail he looked for once. You rose abruptly and padded over to stand between long legs. Daeron shook his head, tight and uncomfortable— always worried someone would catch the disease that ravaged him.
You pushed back his messy hair, eyes softening as you cupped his hollowed cheek. Daeron relaxed after a few moments. A shaky hand now rested on your hip, thumb stroking your waist.
“I believe it would be so. Your dreams do come true, do they not?” You asked, meeting his wide eyes.
“They do,” he croaked.
“Then we shall see each other again. We three in a better life. Although I do hope you learn how to ride a horse.”
The Prince blinked before grinning, tears pricking at his pale eyes. Daeron laughed, a real one that made his eyes crinkle. He thumbed at your dress, gently whispering, “I will, I hope. Otherwise, you’ll still be ruling the house.”
“That wouldn’t change,” you said.
A pause.
He sighed, “I wish I could kiss you. I should’ve done that more.”
“You-“
The door opened. You turned to see Aemon coming in with a cart. He rolled it in, eyes down as the trays and glasses clinked softly. You glanced back at Daeron.
Aemon’s gentle voice broke up the moment, “My apologies. I’ve brought the quicksilver.”
You thumbed at Daeron’s cheek once more, stroking the sallow skin under his eye. Daeron looked distant again, weary and numb as he breathed heavily out of his nose.
“I’ll stay, if that is fine. Is Vaella settled?”
“Yes, the septa is letting her play in her chambers. She is a happy girl, easy to impress,” Aemon remarked with a tilt of his lips. Fondness.
Dear Vaella. You hoped she would remain glad.
Daeron stood up and squeezed your hip as he passed by to return to bed. You hovered, cautiously watching the treatment. The prince would gaze at you now and then. You longed to kiss him too. You couldn’t risk it despite no infections or contagion spread.
You approached the side of his bed, taking hold of Daeron’s hand, “We can meet by the seaside and fulfill that promise, hm?”
Daeron smiled again, turning his head to face you as he mused, “I would like that. I’ll be a good husband.”
you hate how curiosity gets the best of your boyfriend
suggestive/horror. part 1. slight backrooms movie spoilers.
finally, Bobby lifted his head, a lazy, satisfied grin spreading across his face as he looked down at you. “told you Clark wouldn’t know” he teased, his voice hoarse. you let out a weak laugh, swatting at his chest. “You’re such an ass” you muttered, but there was no bite in it.
your body ached in the best way, and you couldn’t deny the thrill of sneaking around like this “I love you too” he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before rolling onto his side, pulling you into his chest.
suddenly a dull thump echoed somewhere below the floor. you both froze and ended up sitting up at almost the same time, pulling up your clothes a little too quickly.
Bobby slid off the bed first, the thump came again, closer this time.
your gaze drifted across the showroom, landing on the familiar staircase tucked behind a stack of display chairs. a big, slightly faded arrow sign hung above it:
‘MORE DOWN HERE’
your fingers tightened around his hand the second he started to move. god, you hated how curiosity always got the best of him.
“Bobby…” it came out quieter this time. a plea for him not to go.
he paused and looked back at you. that same easy smile was still there, he squeezed your hand once “Baby, it’s fine.”
then, softer almost like he was trying to convince both of you.
“I’ll just look. I bet it’s nothing, we’ll laugh about it later on the way home.”
he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. for a second, it almost made sense again. almost made the store feel like just a store. like Clark was just a weird boss and the basement was just a basement.
then Bobby let go and walked. you stayed there frozen on the bed as he crossed the showroom, weaving between couches and dining sets.
“Bobby don’t-“ you began. he glanced back once at you at the top of the stairs. with a small reassuring smile
“Stay there. I’ll be back”
you didn’t like how calm he was. you didn’t like how calm you weren’t. then he disappeared down the stairs.
silence didn’t last. the moment he was gone, the showroom felt wrong in a new way. the hum from below didn’t fade. it seemed like it spread through the floor and all around you now.
another thump came from beneath. closer than before.
then Bobby’s voice, muffled through the floor. you exhaled in relief.
“hey, I think I found something baby.”
“what is it?” you called out
a pause. longer this time. your stomach tightened.
the arrow sign above the stairs ‘MORE DOWN HERE’ seemed to tilt slightly in your vision, like it was pointing less at a place and more at a direction you really shouldn’t be acknowledging.
another sound came from below. not a thump this time. a slow, dragging creak… like something turning its attention upward.
Bobby never spoke again. just a faint breath through the floor.
you sat there, leg bouncing with anxiety. twenty-two seconds. that was all it took before you got up yourself, your feet padded quickly and hesitantly to where you last saw bobby standing.
you took one step toward the stairwell, then another. you hesitated at the top of the stairs.
“Bobby?” you called. your voice didn’t carry the way it should’ve. it felt swallowed halfway down the steps, like the basement had decided it didn’t need to return it.
no answer. just that faint glow. warm at first glance, wrong the longer you looked at it.
you swallowed hard and started down. the stairs weren’t long, but they didn’t feel consistent. halfway down, the angle seemed to change slightly like the building couldn’t decide how many floors it was supposed to have.
each step made a soft, dampened sound, even though everything above had been dry carpet and polished tile.
the air shifted the lower you went. that familiar furniture store smell faded. cardboard, polish, dust, gone.
“Baby…” your voice came out thin.
the word disappeared into the darkness below, swallowed whole before it could reach anyone.
“This isn’t funny anymore.”
you kept descending down. one hand dragged along the wall beside you, partly to steady yourself and partly to prove the wall was still there. the further down you went, the more the staircase seemed to stretch. every time you thought you should be reaching the bottom, another few steps appeared below.
“Bobby?”
no response. you tried to picture him waiting at the bottom. maybe he’d wandered into a storage room. maybe Clark had stopped him. maybe he was about to step around the corner with that sheepish grin and apologize for scaring you.
you held onto that image as tightly as you could
“Bobby, if this is some joke-”
your voice cracked. the rest died in your throat. your hands were trembling now. not because of the dark, nor because of the strange humming but because Bobby always answered.
always.
even if it was just a sarcastic comment, even if it was a laugh, even if it was a simple “I’m right here.” but this time there was nothing.
at last, your foot touched level ground. the bottom.
you looked up. the staircase behind you seemed much taller than it had any right to be.
ahead stretched a long corridor. yellow walls, dingy carpet, buzzing fluorescent lights.
for a moment your brain refused to process what it was seeing.
that wasn’t the basement. it couldn’t be. the furniture store was old, but not this old. the hallway extended farther than the building should physically allow. farther than the entire showroom upstairs, farther than the parking lot outside.
the fluorescent lights flickered overhead with a constant electrical hum. the wallpaper was stained in places, the air smelled faintly of damp carpet and dust.
and there was no sign of Bobby. your heart squeezed.
you hurried forward. “Bobby!”
the name echoed. not once, not twice. it echoed several times from different directions, bouncing through hallways you couldn’t even see.
Bobby.
the last echo sounded wrong. not quite your voice. you stopped immediately. the silence that followed was worse. much worse. because for a second, you thought you’d heard footsteps.
not yours but someone else’s. a shape appeared at the far end of the corridor.
“Bobby?”
the figure stood perfectly still. too far away to make out details. human-shaped. maybe?
the lights buzzed, flickered. the briefest instant, the figure seemed taller than before. the lights steadied again. the hallway was empty. your stomach dropped.
the corridor continued endlessly ahead. identical turns, identical walls, identical lights. every direction looked exactly the same. and somewhere in that vast maze, your boyfriend had vanished without a trace.
then, from somewhere distant, so distant it could have been miles away but you heard it. a voice. faint but unmistakably Bobby’s.
your head snapped toward the sound.
“Bobby!”
no response. just the endless hum of fluorescent lights. and a pile of furniture sat in the middle of the room.
chairs stacked on tables, dressers balanced at impossible angles. a mattress folded between them like it had been shoved there by something. it looked less like storage and more like a memory of storage.
ahead stood a blank wall. except it wasn’t entirely blank. blue painter’s tape had been carefully applied across it, outlining the shape of a door.
a simple rectangle. a doorway that wasn’t there or wasn’t supposed to be.
your stomach twisted. every instinct screamed at you to turn around. to go back upstairs, to leave.
but… Bobby was gone. the thought drowned out everything else.
“Baby? Bobby?” you called one last time.
the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. no answer. the silence felt enormous.
you stared at the taped outline
“…What kind of fucked up shit is this, Clark?”
the words broke halfway through. your voice sounded small and tight.
you stepped closer. the blue tape looked old. worn. like it had been there for years. yet you were certain it hadn’t existed yesterday or maybe it had.
a strange uncertainty crept into your thoughts. you found yourself struggling to remember the showroom upstairs.
the reception desk, the parking lot, the front doors. even Bobby’s face seemed harder to hold in your mind than it should have been.
the panic that followed nearly knocked the breath from your lungs.
you pressed a hand against the taped doorway. the wall felt warm. not room temperature but warm. like skin left in sunlight.
you recoiled then froze.
from somewhere beyond the wall came a sound. not Bobby, not Clark. something moving through an immense distance. a shuffling noise. followed by the faintest whisper. words you couldn’t understand, yet somehow felt addressed to you.
the outline of the doorway seemed deeper now. less like tape. the fluorescent lights flickered once. twice, three times. darkness swallowed the room for half a second. when the lights returned, the pile of furniture behind you was gone. the room was larger, much larger. the walls farther away, the corners wrong.
you should have run, anyone should have. but fear had long since become desperation.
the belief that if you just kept going, if you just opened one more door, turned one more corner, called his name one more time you’d find him.
so you stepped forward.
you never found bobby, and you were never seen again.
the furniture store remained open for another six months until Clark eventually locked the lower level permanently. he never explained why.
the missing persons reports went nowhere. no bodies were found. no evidence was recovered. no explanation was ever given.
the building was eventually abandoned. years later, urban explorers who entered the property would sometimes discover strange things.
a reception desk that shouldn’t have been there, rows of furniture extending far beyond the dimensions of the building, a faint humming beneath the floor.
just a man and a woman. still searching for each other through endless halls. neither one of you ever getting quite close enough to getting found.
“My brother's mace, most like,” Baelor replies, eyes still closed. But then he leans in toward Raymun and opens them again so he can look at the lad with a pride that sits familiarly on his face, mouth tipping up into an amiable smile as he continues, as if sharing an open secret, “He’s strong.” And he chuckles, too.
There’s a simple delight there—a brightness in his mismatched eyes where they meet Raymun’s from under the cracked visor of his borrowed helm. It’s the expression of a loving older brother that has definitely bragged about this before, to their parents and other brothers, to nobles in a tourney’s royal box, to sparring knights in several training yards, to soldiers around a campfire after a day of fighting a war. My brother is strong. An inarguable truth, personally experienced; an honest smile to accompany the out-of-pocket boast. Countless memories of reveling in their ability to meet one another physically, to harm as much as to hold. To leave wounds and scars, to manhandle one another. The fun that comes with it, and the joy of being moved so literally—the deep pleasure of having a brother like Maekar, who can move him.
Baelor is playful in this moment, the helm still tight on his head, talking about his baby brother to the young Ser Fossoway. And he radiates the plain happiness of knowing his Maekar grew up so demonstrably, undeniably, wonderfully strong.
“Dream now, my baby, of life in the clouds, Your head held so high and your wings spread so proud, For I know a secret I promise is true, Here there be dragons, and one of them's you.” Maekar sings to a sleepy Aelora, the three year old not wanting to go to bed. Alyssa already asleep cuddling her dragon toy Maekar gave her for her first nameday.
“Oh my gods, it’s your fault.” You whisper from your spot in the doorway, having been watching the man for the past few minutes. Seeing Aelora falling asleep in her grandsire’s arms.
“What?” He asks gruffly, pretending like was wasn’t just singing to his granddaughter.
“You would tell Aerion he was a dragon!” You whisper shout a massive smile on your face as you try to stifle your giggles not wanting to wake the girls. “If my girls think they are actual dragons I will blame you.”
“He is, he’s from the dragon house. It’s not my fault my son is very literal.” Maekar responds rolling his eyes at you before tucking Aelora into bed, kissing both girls foreheads before doing the same to you and leaving to go back to his chambers. “Get some sleep.”
-
“I want another.” Aerion late one night when you’re both cuddling in bed, having spent the day fishing with the girls and Maekar. Aelora loving fishing just like her father, whereas Alyssa liked paddling in the river with you.
“When you’re the one pushing the babe out then you can pick when we have another.” You tease trying to hide a moan when he kisses down your throat.
“But you look so pretty carrying my hatchlings.” He whispers into you nipping at your skin.
“Please stop calling our children hatchlings.” You giggle kissing your stupidity pretty husband.
-
“Brother, took you long enough.” Maekar say to Baelor, the prince staying in summerhall for a few weeks, as he had to meet with some lords Maekar had pissed off. “I’m winning our bet by the way.”
“What bet?” Baelor asks not knowing what his youngest brother was talking about. Deciding not to think to much about it as he has amazing news to share. “Oh, brilliant news Keira is pregnant.”
“Yes I’ve heard.” Maekar says leading Baelor to the dining hall, the man arriving just in time for dinner.
“How?” Baelor asks, only finding out moments before his departure.
“You seem to forget our daughters are best friends.” Maekar says rolling his eyes, you having received the letter before Kiera had even told Valarr. “They tell each other everything, to much actually.”
“What makes you think that? Could it be a possible security issue?” Baelor asks worried about possible repercussions to your letters.
“There was a mixup with letters, I really didn’t need to know how good your son is with his tongue.” Maekar says entering the empty dining hall, everyone still getting ready. “So no, if they get intersected I don’t think there’s much the blackfryes can do with our children’s sex lives or what the grandchildren have been up to.”
-
“Why am I so bloated? I look like I did when I was pregnant with the twins.” You complain to your husband as you stand in front of the mirror. Aerion fixing his hair next to you.
“That’s because you’re pregnant my dragonness.” Your husband says casually, finally happy with his hair as he goes to help you with your necklace.
“Even if I am.” You say knowing you are but waiting to tell your husband until your letter has a chance to reach Kiera. “I shouldn’t have a bump this big this early. We cant be having another set of twins.”
“Watch it be triplets.” Aerion teases wrapping his arms around your waist resting his head on your shoulder. “You look so beautiful.”
“Kepus! Alyssa took brightflame!” Aelora cries running into your chambers the three and a half year old wearing her new dress that Maekar got for her. “Make her give him back!”
Running in after her sister is Alyssa, who looks like the girl version of her father, holding that stupid red dragon you got for Aerion as an anniversary present. Both girls loving the toy since you gave it to your husband. “It’s my turn with him! Muña tell her!”
“Gods please don’t be twins.” You mumble to yourself with a small smile. “Girls, if you can’t share you have to give him back to Kepus.”
-
“I hear Kiera has already told you.” Baelor says to you over dinner, the twins occupying Aerion and Maekar. Both girls still sulking over brightflame being confiscated. “Her and Valarr are very excited.”
“I’m so happy for her.” You tell your husbands uncle, when a servant enters the hall holding a letter. “Jace will be an amazing big brother.”
“I’m sorry m’lords, the letter as urgent written on it.” The servant says quickly hurrying over to pass you the letter. Scurrying off before you can thank him.
“Keira I take it?” Maekar says cutting Alyssa’s food for her as you open the letter. “What does she have to say?”
“She’s saying we could have a joint celebration, if one of us is up to traveling if not, once the babies are born we should all go for a family holiday to dragonstone.” You say skimming the letter, to busy making sure to leave out the pregnancy sex that you accidentally announced your own pregnancy.
“Babies?”
-
“I feel like a whale.” You say a few moons later, the maester having just left after informing you that ‘you have at least one in there, probably more.’ An idiot could have told you that.
“No, you look like a dragonness carrying my hatchlings.” Aerion corrects, hand resting on your bump so he can feel the babies move.
“Dragons lay eggs.” You respond not feeling very dragonly as a baby keeps kicking your ribs. “They don’t have a baby punching their bladder.”
“You’re protect our eggs by keeping them with you.” He says moving to kiss your stomach. “Be good my little hatchings, muña is tired.”
“You are so weird.” You say softly to your crazy husband who you love more than anything in the world, baring the children obviously. “I love you my dragon.”
-
“How are you feeling?” Aerion asks you after your long labors, having given birth to triplets in the late hours of the night, having only just been able to sleep.
“Like I just pushed out three watermelons.” You respond resting your head on his shoulder. “We have five children.”
“Two more and we beat father.” At your look he just kisses the side of your head. “I’m so proud of you. Do you want me to get the twins?”
“Please.” You say having missed your girls in the hours of labor. Now being the best time to see them as the triplets slept.
-
“Muña!” The girls whisper shout, clearly having been told they have to be quiet by their father as they run in. Climbing into bed with you to give you a cuddle. “Missed you muña.”
“I missed you too my little dragons.” You say softly, kissing the side of both their heads. “Do you want to meet your new siblings?”
“Can we?” Alyssa asks, looking at Aerion as he moved over to the crib, picking up one of the babes.
“You have to be gentle with them.” You remind, knowing Aerion and Maekar will of already told them. “They’re very little.”
“Girls, meet your brother.” Aerion says waking over holding a sleeping babe that was wrapped in a blue blanket. “This is Aelyx.”
“Hello Aelyx.” The twins say in unison, looking at their brother in fascination. “He’s so small.”
“You used to be that small.” You tell them taking Aelyx from your husband’s arms so he can fetch the other two babies. “Do you want to meet your sisters too?”
“We have sisters?” Aelora asks carefully getting off the bed to join Aerion over by the crib, letting him pick her up so she could look at the two sleeping girls. Alyssa still looking at her little brother, smiling when he holds her finger. “What are their names?”
Your daughter sneaks into your chambers wanting her fathers attention
Short but sweet, trying to get through my drafts before the Jace fixation starts. But my requests are always open 🐉 and completely unrelated but my kitchen should be done next week so I can finally bake again!!!
“Kepa! Kepa! Kepa!” Your two year old daughter says jumping on the spot pulling on Daeron’s arm wanting his attention. Not caring that it’s way past midnight and you and Daeron are trying to sleep.
“Helaena! Helaena! Helaena!” He teases still half asleep lifting her onto the bed so she can be in between you both. “Why are you awake? You should be sleeping.”
“No sleep.” She tells him shaking her head playing with his hands. “Play!”
“No, sleep.” Daeron tells his energetic daughter pulling her so she’s lying down with him, ignoring her squirmy giggles. “It’s bedtime little dragon.”
“Nooo.” She whines wanting to play not caring that she was tired so she starts shaking you ignoring the father telling her not to. “Mama? Wake up.”
“I’m awake darling.” You tell her sleepily rolling over to face her, yawning as you do. “What are you doing awake little miss?”
“Play.” She whines not wanting to sleep, despite clearly being over tired.
“No, it’s bedtime.” You say cuddling her and Daeron, the girl giggling from her spot in between you both.
“But-.”
“You can sleep in your room or you can sleep with us but it’s bedtime so Kepa and I are going to sleep.” You say, needing sleep. “Night, night.”
“Can I have story?” She asks looking so much like Daeron when she looks at you like that. Eyes wide with her thumb in her mouth.
“One.” Daeron says lighting his candle on the bedside table and picking up one of the toddler books that he keeps there for moments like this. “Zog or hungry caterpillar.” He asks the toddler showing her both books despite already knowing the one she’s going to choose.
“Zog!”
“There once was a school many moons ago, that taught young dragons all the things that dragons need to know.” Daeron says starting the read the book you know have memorized from the amount of times you’ve read it.
i saw someone saying on twitter about a woman who said that her boyfriend was so nervous when propose her that he forgot everything and ended up just getting on his knees saying “please”.
i hope every writer who reads this makes the best of it
one thing i love about every single Stark is that they physically cannot stop themselves from chatting shit, even when it actively endangers them. if they think of a good one liner they will genuinely rather say it and die than keep quiet
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