hii i absolutely loved "lust in lys" and i was wondering you could write how Aerion and reader grew their relationship, how they started having feelings and their relationship growing up
its okay if you cant im just really curious and i love your work! thanks anyway π
yes ofc ml!! ill work on it asap and ill tag you + put the link here once i publish itπ€πͺ½
An email is forwarded to you at 11:47 PM, the exact time your familyβs lawyer reminds you how disappointed she is in you two. It was after hours, so no chance anyone was up to scold or be upset at the two of you.
You read it twice before groaning, picking up your phone to call Aerion. He picks it up on the first ring as if he has been waiting. βThey bought it,β you said.
βObviously, they bought it,β you can hear him grinning through the line. The same snarky grin that's been plastered on his face since you could remember.
You and Aerion believed it was wise to pay Raymun to write your final essays for your business class, as well as giving him total free rein on the subject. You promised him some cash and to go on a date with one of his friends. Aerion promised a free drink next time at the pub and his pocket change.
Aerionβs hasty words reminded you of how he convinced ten-year-old you to jump off the boathouse roof at Summerhall, swearing the water was not shallow. It was not even close to deep. You ended up breaking your wrist and wearing a cast for half the year. You did it again next summer.
β80% is a joke, though. We should have asked for a 90%,β he hissed. You rolled your eyes, then rubbed them from your tiredness. βWe got caught having Raymun write both our theses and our essays, Aer. Be grateful itβs even a number at all.β
He just scoffs, low and unbothered, which has gotten girls to do considerably more interesting things than write a thesis for him. βSo. Banned from campus for the rest of the semester. How will we ever survive?β he emphasized the last word. His faux groan made you smile.
You already knew how you were going to live out the last month of university. Youβve known since the review boardβs letter mentioned βa family residenceβ as your assigned suspension location, as if it were assigned to some lazy location. Summerhall in June. The beach manor was off the coast of Westeros and housed the family every summer. But for two weeks, it would just be the two of you, and however much distance the houseβs forty rooms can put between the rest of the world and your cousin.
You bit your lip in an excitement that couldnβt be spoken yet, βIβll see you Friday, Aerion.β
βYouβll see me tomorrow,β he corrects. βNo way Iβm waiting three more days to get out of this city.β
πͺ½
Summerhall smelled of sea and hydrangeas, as well as the fresh laundry the maids were doing when you pulled up on the driveway. You loved every inch of it, no matter how much you said you disliked being stuck in a house with your entire family for at least a month.Β
You and Aerion have the run of the manor for exactly fourteen days before the rest of your lineage arrived, and you spent them disgraced and carelessly. You slept til noon, raided the wine cellar Uncle Baelor swore he hid well, and raced on jet skis that you were too drunk to operate.
Youβre both spraying wakes at each other across the water, shrieking with laughter and cackles that only someone like him could have with you. Rivalry has been a common denominator between youβ whoever got better marks, who got the better allowance, who Grandfather Daeron liked most. Somewhere within the last few years, it curdled into something else, something more vile and gritty.
That night, you stole a shirt from his room because you were tired of wearing bikinis and tank tops all day. The two of you take a blanket down to the private section of the beach behind the house, the one that the servants and groundkeeprs donβt bother turning the lights on for because anyone rarely comes down.Β
The tide is far out, rinsing the shore of its sins. The sand was now cooled and pale under the moonlight as Aerion sat beside you, elbows on his knees. For once, he was watching the waves rather than you.
βWeβre so stupid,β you coughed out, inhaling the fat rollup. Aerion huffed out a laugh, taking the blunt from you. βRaymun had a typo in the title page. Targeryen. With an E.β
You groaned excessively, pulling a hand down your face. βDonβt.β
βThe review board didnβt even catch it. They put it in the proofreader and didnβt catch the most prominent thing?β
βDonβt,β you repeated, laughing so hard you had to press the heel of your palm against your mouth. Aerion finally looks down at you, and something in his face goes silent in a way it never does.
The laughter dies out slowly, the way it would always fizzle out between you two. The air was going thick and close despite the wide, open sky above. He reaches over without saying a word, tucking a loose strand of hair back from your face. He dragged his thumb along your jaw, unrushed, like he had all the time in the world. You let him.
βCβmere,β he whispers, low enough that it's essentially a breath, and you do, because you always do. His mouth tasted of smoke and a certain sweetnessβ maybe the pressed juice from dinner. His hand slides to the back of your neck as if he has done it a hundred times before, primarily because he has, because youβve been doing it since you were sixteen.Β
You pretended numerous times that it didnβt count, that it was just a thing that happened between cousins who grew up closer than siblings. You acted like Aerion would grow out of his teenage hunger, and you two would stop overstepping with one another.Β
Aerionβs other hand finds your waist, fingers pressing into your his shirt as if heβs trying to feel the shape of you, like he didnβt memorize it the second time you did it. You sink into the sand and into him in the same motion, with no hurry to go to bed just yet.Β
You havenβt grown out of it. Neither has he. Lying there with the tide washing away and your weight settling over him, content with your academic probation.
πͺ½
Everyone else arrives on the fifteenth day, and Summerhall has now been taken over by the loudest and largest family in Westeros.Β
Valarr arrives first, at ease due to his top marks during finals week. Rhaelle and Daeron were trailing behind him, slinging and dragging their bags in because the servants were not set to arrive until noon. The three were already exhausted, hearing about your suspension from three separate relatives, until they got the full story from you.
Valarr finds the two of you in the back, on the veranda. Your feet were propped up, day-drinking like the last two weeks were a vacation rather than house arrest. Valarrβs face swirled into a mixture of confusion and disappointment. βYou two are unbelievable.β
βThanks,β Aerion replies, raising his tumbler to his cousin.
βThat wasn't a compliment.β
βIβm taking it as one anyway.β
Valarrβs jaw stiffens up, the same way it did when he was holding something back. He exhales and says, βJust.. donβt make this worse.β He goes inside to find a drink of his own, because he is going to need it. Valarr doesn't clarify what βthisβ was. He never had to.Β
Valarr had known since you were both seventeen, when he was looking for you and found Aerion in a compromising position above you. Over the past five years, he hasnβt brought it up directly to you once. However, he weaponized the information whenever Aerion bickered with him and needed to put him in his place.Β
Daella corners you in the kitchen later that night while you are making tea that neither of you will drink. βYouβre being obvious,β she notes, not unkindly, but more so, watching out for you.
βThink so?β you asked, steeping the tea leaves in.
βA little. Itβs worse than usual.β She studies you over the edge of her mug. Daella was the only person in the family who looked at you and Aerion and acted like it was a normal thing, because to her, it was no issue. It had been a tradition for decades and sees no reason for it to die out. βJust be careful, will you? My dadβs still in a mood about the whole thing. The suspension, I mean. Notβnot the other thing.β
βWhat other thing?β
Daella just smiles in her mug of tea and says, βThatβs why I love you.β
πͺ½
Two days later, after early morning pickleball games and beach bumming, Maekar drops the news at dinner. A dinner that was going splendidly until he spoke up.
βYouβre both going to Lys.β
Aerion sets down his fork with a clatter. You swallow your food, not chewing enough, making it go down in a chunk. βWhere?β
βLys. A month. I have had enough of the two of you treating Summerhall like it is someβ some holding cell that you are clever enough to escape to.β Maekar's eyes remain on the platter as he says it, as if you were not worth the effort of giving eye contact. βYouβll go somewhere with actual consequences for your poor behavior, and youβll get whatever this is out of your system before the next semester, because I am not allowing this next year.β
βBut Uncle, Summerhall is the consequence.β
βSummerhall is where you have spent the past two weeks racing jet skis and raiding my wine cellar,β Baelor adds mildly, not caring so much about the wine. βLys will be different, believe me.β
Valarr, who, to your surprise, is the one who pushes against it hardest. βThis is a terrible idea! Theyβre alreadyββ
βNobody asked you, Valarr,β Aerion spat.Β
βHush. You both are reckless enough with supervision. Sending you somewhere with none is asking for a debt you cannot repay,β Valarr justified.
βIt is for a month, not a war deployment,β Maekar clarifies, unmoved by all but his own words. βBaelor has found them a place, an Airbnb. It has been decided.β
Valarr looks like he wishes to say several more things, all of them directed towards Aerion, none of which he can announce at the table. He settles his grievance with a long, flat stare down the length of the table. More so at Aerion, because Valarr would never blame you for this, because he thinks that Aerion started your taboo affair. He goes back to dinner without another word.
βA damn Airbnb,β Aerion mutters to you later, in your room. He was acting as if Baelor had reserved a park bench for the two of you. βWeβre being sent to Lys and stuffed up in an Airbnb. Like tourists.β
βI believe thatβs the point, Aer.β
βWho said I had to like the point?β
πͺ½
Airbnb is an insult to your collective upbringing and usual choice of living, as you both thought. It was three bedrooms, as if you were going to use the other two, a large air conditioning unit, and a kitchen that looked nothing like yours at Summerhall. You stand at the doorway, shoving your duffel bag inside. You start to laugh out of spite, because it was either that or cry about the loss of 24-hour, 7 days a week service staff.
βThereβs no pool,β Aerion whimpers, wandering the length of the living area as if he were inspecting for damage. βThereβs noβ Uncle Baelor is punishing us. This is punishment.β
βI think thatβs the goal here, yes.β
βI liked Summerhallβs version of punishment better,β he sighs with pursed lips.
But it takes less than 48 hours for the βterribleβ accommodations to stop mattering, because Lys has not a single clue of who you both are. Nobody here has grown up, heard the Targaryen name, and trembled with fear or intimidation. No scandal, no long dynasty that took over Westeros with three blondes, just two fair-faced rich kids with an accent that read money and a black card. Bottle service appears without asking; a corner of the club opens up its arms for you. Nobody here would report anything back to Maekar. Nobody was going to look at the two of you standing too close and imagine that there was something wrong.
It was the most freedom either of you has ever had.
You learned quickly that Aerion has never once in his life understood decorum or restraint in public, and Lys only made it worse. You were stretched out on a towel at the cove beach two streets down from where you were staying. The sun shone brightly everywhere but the space under your umbrella. Aerion props himself on an elbow beside you and starts pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses along your sternum, right in broad daylight. As if the string of families and tourists a couple of feet away didnβt exist.
βAerion,β you swat at his shoulder, laughing. You glanced around on instinct, even though not a single person had an idea of who either of you was. βThere are people here!β
βThere are,β he agrees, unbothered by such unnecessary information, and he does it again, mouth trailing lower and drifting back up once he hears a hum from you. βSomeoneβs going to look over, Aer.β
βLet them.β
βYouβre insufferable.β
βAnd youβre ticklish,β he counters, thrilled by your squirming under the kiss at the dip of your collarbone. You swat at him once more, half-heartedly, giggling too hard to actually mean it.
βWe are cousins enjoying the beach in public. Aerion, this is not normal person behaviorββ
βNobody here knows weβre cousins,β he points out, which wasnβt a total lie. He was being entirely too reasonable for someone ignoring every faux boundary you set. βAs far as theyβre concerned, weβre just an extremely good-looking couple whoβre in love.β He paused at the last word, strictly by the impact of the word that he never said out loud in relation to you. Well, in a less familial sense.
You just huffed in defeat, lying back down on the towel.Β
πͺ½
The club you found was one of the largest ones in Lys. The attitude and air it had would be shunned in Westeros. You felt the bass in your teeth before youβre even through the door, a loud thump inside your cavity. It was threaded under strings of violet and fuchsia lights and the smell of sweet, sharp liquor and floral perfume. You strung through the crowd with Aerion as if you owned the place. His mood was turned up all the way tonight, his shirt unbuttoned way too far down, arm slung around your shoulders.Β
He bought a round of shots for an entire table of strangers, just to fuel his ego by hearing them cheer his name like theyβve known him for decades.Β
βYou didnβt even ask for their names,β you shouted over the music, staying close by his side.
βDonβt need to. I bought the shots, they drink βem. Thatβs a formal introduction where Iβm from.β
βYou made that up just now.β
βDid I?β He grins, cheeky as ever, and steals the lime out of your hand before you have the chance to jerk away.
Somewhere around midnight, he talks a strangerβs boyfriend into a terrible bar game, unprovoked and full of ego. He lost spectacularly, mouth tasting of terrible vodka. You laugh so hard that you nearly fall over, dragging him with you so you donβt miss your humiliation on your own.
βThat was so bad, you couldnβt find at least one thing thatβs blue in the room?β You ask him, breathless, straightening him back upright.
βI found you,β he coos, spinning you under his arm, nearly making you lose your footing.
Later, you drag him into a bet you knew you shouldnβt have madeβwho can do shots the longest, a rematch of a contest you have lost on numerous occasions since you were nineteen and talked you into at a family wedding. It ended the way it always did, with you both wasted and too disgusted to determine a winner, babbling about rules and cheating.
βWeβre so bad for each other,β you tell him, hanging off his shoulder as you stumble outside the club into the humid Lys night. The bass still rang faintly in your ears as you watched the skyβs bruise that was shown an hour before dawn.Β
βLast summer of this, though,β he says, smiling down at you, gorgeous and entirely yours in every way.
You donβt think itβs the last summer of anything.
πͺ½
You donβt get back to the Airbnb until it was five, giddy and now a little more sobered up, and youβre almost to your bathroom before you realize the zipper at the back of your top has been wedged at your shoulder blades all night, and you canβt get to it.
βAerion,β you announced. He was in the hallway, shirt now a faint memory, turning at his name. βHelp me with this.β
He makes his way down and doesnβt say anything clever. You knew it was going to be an issue because he always had something clever up his sleeve, except for these moments with you. He crossed to you and his slender fingers found the zipper. Instead of pulling the rest of it up, he tugs it down. Slowly. Unhurried. He knuckles trail the smooth skin as the zipper opens, and you feel every ridge of the metal opening.
βAerionββ
βYou asked for help,β he mumbled, low and close enough that you felt it against your neck more than you heard it. His mouth was just barely at the curve of your shoulder, breath warm against skin that oversensitized. βIβm helping you.β
You donβt stop him. His hand splays flat between your shoulder blades, holding you there like he wasnβt done with you yet. When he turns you to face him, the nonexistent joke between you two disappears. The competition and rivalry you always had are gone.Β
You let your top drop to the floor before Aerion dives into your lips, full of need and desire. Your hand made way into his silver tufts, pulling at them before he dragged you into his bedroom.
πͺ½
It was well past noon the next day when you woke up, sprawled over the king bed, an arm behind your head. He was insufferably pleased with himself the way he gets after a good night, a very good night. You climb back into bed after going to the restroom and dig your thumbs into a knot of muscle at his shoulder that he blamed the mattress for. Youβve never once been able to resist taking care of him, especially when you shouldnβt.
His phone lit up on the pillow beside his head, and you tried your best not to look, because you werenβt that type of person to him. Itβs in your peripheral, just there where you worked your hands down his shoulder, but the name atop the notification makes you go still.
Valarr.
'Saw a photo from the club. You need to stop this. Whatever is between you two needs to be over. We donβt do this in this family. Not anymore.'
Aerionβs groans stop, and he goes tense under your hands the moment he feels you stop.Β
βI can explainββ
βWe were in the back of someoneβs photo,β you simply stated. You already imagined it. You were kissing him on the back of some influencerβs photo, and Valarr just happened to come upon it.Β
He said your name, sounding full of guilt and remorse for you, never him.Β
βSorry,β you apologize, meaning it wholeheartedly. βFor reading it. I wasnβt trying to.β
He twists up to look at you properly, searching your face for whatever panic it may have had. But at this point, you donβt have it in you anymore. You spent your entire life being told that what your predecessors did was a door that was closed for generations before either of you was born, a thing that the family doesnβt do anymore. But you spent your whole life loving him first, and so did he. Everything else was secondary.
βYou donβt care,β he stated matter-of-factly.
βI only care that Valarrβs going to be insufferable about it,β you rolled your eyes and shrugged, going back to easing the tension in his shoulder. βI donβt care that he thinks we should stop.β
His face breaks at that, relief perhaps, or just the small tenderness he had left in him that was only shown to you. Never his fake girlfriends, not strangers, not even his father. He catches your wrist before you can pull away, and presses a kiss to it as if you were lovers. To him, your blood was thicker than any connection could ever be.
His thumb came up to trace your cheekbone, his teasing self now entirely gone, replaced with something else. "Kiss me."
You neednβt be told twice. He kisses you like he had no choice, his hand fisting into the flesh at your waist to pull you flush against him. The proximity alone was never enough for either of you. You lost track of where the mattress ended and where he began, the drag of his mouth and the low sound he makes against your lips like heβs been starving. Starving for you.Β
You straddle him softly, moving against his lap. Aerion groans for a moment, something rattling inside him. Suddenly, you forgot everything that you both have done outside your relationship. Aerion throws that boyfriend you pretended to like during your first year of uni out the window. You remain ignorant of the numerous girls he was with, the ones who would brag and openly tell you about what they did to him. You didnβt care that much because, at the end of the day, you both knew it was a cover-up, and he always came back to you.
Your tongue moved inside his mouth, warm and sickly sweet. βNothing gets to touch this,β he rasps. βNot Valarr, not the family, not anything.β Aerion thrusted into you, your core shaking from his movement. You gasped into his mouth, pulling back for just a moment.Β
Your brows furrowed, mouth agape. Sure, you and Aerion had snuck away at countless gatherings and events to hump each other like bunnies, nasty makeouts, him eating you out like it was his last meal, but you had never taken him entirely. βAerionββ you gasped.
βWe donβt have to,β he immediately started, hands coming up to take you off his lap, but your hands hold his wrists.Β
βNo, no. I want to. I want you. I want this.β
He gazes into your eyes to look for any form of hesitation, any wanting to back out, because he couldnβt lose you. You were the only good thing in his life.
You let go of his wrists, letting them fall slowly before they made way to your waist. The day glowed through the sheer curtains, a reminder that youβre spending your afternoon basking in the warmth of your cousin in Lys.Β Aerion flipped you over, so now you were caged underneath him.
He began his usual routine of kissing you deeply on the lips, before trailing down your throat, then your pulse point, then his favorite placeβ your sternum. The space between your chest, the area that caged your heart, was always his favorite. He swore he could feel the pitter-patter quicken as he made his way down it.
He unclipped your bra and slipped it off you, throwing it on the floor as he did the same with your panties. Aerion wasted no time removing his boxers before lying his body on top of you. His head of silver hair was cradled in the space of your neck, pressing hot kisses to your jugular.Β
You swiped the hair out of his face, lashes fluttering at the heat on your neck. Aerion pressed against you, but didnβt enter you yet.Β
βItβs okay, Aer. Go ahead,β you whispered, giving him the clear. He peered up at you, eyes glimmering. He kisses your lips once more before slowly pushing himself inside. A collective groan emerges from the two of you. Another soft sound escapes your lips before he silences it with his, a wet pop sounding.
Aerionβs arms came around to cage your head as he thrusted in, your hand coming to grip onto his bicep. βF-fuck, Aer,β you choked out, throwing your head back from the fullness.Β
βMy girl,β he lowly says, continuing the roll of his hips.Β
Aerion was always clever-mouthed and a talker, but he was especially talkative in bed. His words were normally sweet remarks or explanations of desire, but currently, they felt like something aligned with a confession. βI used to think weβd grow out of this. I never knew why,β he rasped in your ear. βI couldβve had anyone. Half the girls on campus would die for me, but youβre all I need. Theyβre placeholders for you, you know that, right? Youβve always known.β
You didnβt know what to say at the vulgarity and sincerity of his words. You always had a feeling deep down that you had to stop your antics, but this only pushed that thought away. He continued, βThey think that blood is the reason this is wrong. I think itβs the reason it feels so right.β At the last word, he thrusts harder into you, earning a moan from you.
Aerion sped up, purring into your ear against your skin. You wrapped your legs around him, bringing him in impossibly closer. Your grip now moved to pull your arms around his shoulders, not letting go for a moment. βPlease..β you begged, yet you were unsure of what you were asking for. Was it more? Faster? Stop?Β
Everything was blurred when your tears began to prick your eyes, threatening to run loose before you shut them. Your mouth formed an βoβ at Aerionβs desperate thrusts of desire. His grunts and groans were now changing into cries, taking in fully what sin he has committed.Β
βThatβs it, fuck,β he cursed, breathing heavily. You clawed at his back, leaving marks that were sure to be seen at the beach tomorrow. You cried out, signalling how close you were. Aerion sped up, pushing you into the mattress to go deeper inside you. What little dignity and buildup you had before was now gone, totally shattered and ruined by Aerion.
You swore you saw white when the tight feeling in your tummy snapped, a wave of pleasure spilling over you. Aerion was right there with you, groaning loudly before slipping out of you to finish on your waist.Β
Aerion fell against you, not caring about the mess he made. His toned arms came to hold you, tight and tough. Your eyes were still closed, but you hugged him back, a hand coming to smooth over his head. βNever leave me,β he finally mumbled out.Β
Your eyes fluttered open at the choice of his words, feeling him come up to lay a kiss on your temple.Β
βNever,β you replied. βI love you, Aer.β
βI love you more.β
Nothing was said soon after, because there wasn't anything to say. It was barely the first week of your βexileβ in Lys, and you still had so much more time to spend with your cousin.
Aerion ended up sending Valarr photos of you shortly after.
πͺ½
a/n: hi this was sooo fun to write im absolutely obsessed w all of finn's roles, esp in akotsk and black doves!
the godswood smelled like scorched stone, even fortnights after the masons completed it. you enjoyed it that way. it meant heartfyre was here recently, and that the cold, grey castle had flames running through it once more.
cregan stood a respectful distance away, his arms crossed, watching as you directed the hunters to place hunks of elk onto the platform. heartfyre waited til the men were at a reasonable length away before you said, βkisΔs.β eat.Β
she flamed the corpse before snapping her jaws shut, smoke curling from her nostrils in fulfillment. βao games jorrΔlagon, eh, prumiaperzys?β you like that don't you, heartfyre? you murmured, more to her than your lord husband. you ran your hand along the ridge of her scaled leg once she had swallowed. heatfyre made a clicking noise of approval, just like caraxes, a sound that vibrated through the ground beneath your boots.
βwhat was that?β cregan asked, now stepping closer, now that she was a little less hungry. βhigh valyrian,β you said, as if cregan didnβt know. βi asked if she was eating well.β you smiled, signalling the hunters to bring another hunk of meat up. βi speak to her more than i intend to. old habit,β you sighed. βfather always said dragons remember the tongue far more than anything otherwise.β
cregan was silent for a moment, watching you stroke the beast. βsay something else.β
you chuckled, considering your husbandβs request. βwhy?β
βbecause i am a northerner who only understands the common tongue,β he admitted. true, but painfully so. βand it is still the finest sound i have heard since i came home from the wall.β
heat arose in your cheeks that had no concern from the dragonfire. βsopagon." laughable.
βnorthmen do not jest of such,β he said with ease. βwe speak the truth. it gets colder here, men learn not to make waste of their words.β
you let a laugh out, and heartfyre huffed out smoke in response, as if she found cregan amusing as well. you switched back to the common tongue, only to say, βcareful, lord stark. keep speaking like that, and i shall teach you a phrase or two on my own.β
βi would enjoy that,"he genuinely replied. with cregan, you could always tell. he always had full intent with his words.
you pat heartfyre before getting up, skipping over to your lord husband to kiss him.Β
π€Λｑ π¦ Λβ½ΛｑβΒ
the fire in your chambers had settled to ash now, and you were still in your furs, loathing to give the final remnants of the eveningβs warmth for bed. cregan sat across from you, sharpening a smaller blade that needed no more shine. it was usually a sign he wanted to speak to you about something.
βa rider came through wintertown this morrow,β he stated. "called you βthe dragon of the northβ before he even asked to see me. did not name you a princess. not lady stark, even.β
βi noticed.β you swirled your wine in your hand. βstrange is it not? in the keep, i was just princess. alike of baela and rhaena. titles were handed to us on silver platters.β
βnot much difference here,β cregan noted. you nodded, eyeing the crimson liquid in your glass. βi beg to differ. here, i am the dragon of the north. lady of winterfell. shewolf, when the elder men in the hall have had their sins wasted away in ale, and believe i lost my hearing.β
βdoes it trouble you?β cregan asked. you knew he would halt any words of disgrace that came your way, but it never disturbed you truly.
βno,β you replied without thinking a second time. βin truth, i believe it is fitting, as strange as it sounds. the titles i was born with mean nothing to me, for i did nothing to earn them. but this,β you gestured vaguely, at the castle, him, the embroidered direwolf on the quilt, βthis is a name for what became of me. the north gave it to me.β
cregan set the blade down gently. βshewolf,β he repeated, saying it to hear what it sounds like from him and not a member of the commonfolk. βsuits you better than princess.β
you scoffed, βlet us not get further than we anticipated, lord husband.β
he laughed, crossing the room to settle beside you. βprincess is still yours, do not worry, my love.β you let yourself lean into him, furs and all. βbesides,β he whispered before kissing your lips, βheartfyre takes dragon of the north.β
you rolled your eyes in jest before launching a pillow at him, which he let hit his chest. outside, far and fair, a dragonβs click answered as if she knew her ears were burning.
π€Λｑ π¦ Λβ½ΛｑβΒ
a letter arrived whilst you were sitting with your ladies in waiting in the solar, needlework and embroidery forgotten in favor of gossip, as it usually was during midday. a gold yellow seal coated the front, bees raised in the wax. you broke the seal and scanned the parchment before letting out an exasperated groan. the sound was so undignified that three separate ladies looked up in alarm, or more so, fright.Β
you could have assumed someone passed, or maybe a relative insistent om visiting the north. βwhat is it?β one asked.Β
βlord beesbury,β you lamented, βis to be wed. once more.β
the solar erupted in laughter and gasps. you counted on your nimble fingers as the women supplied the tally. his first wife died of a fever, the second of childbed, the third, who caused a scandal in the reach because she ran off to braavos with a lover, the fourth, who βexpiredβ, as one of the elders put it. and now, a fifth, a maiden younger than his daughter.
you laughed til your ribs were aching, and still were hours later, curled up against cregan's side in the dark of your bed chambers.
βyou smile at nothing,β cregan observed with a smirk.
you smiled harder now, completely forgetting to tell your husband the humorous information. βlord beesbury is getting wed. fifth wife.β
cregan huffed, half a laugh of disbelief and jest. βthe man must be having the constitution of an elk.β
βor the lack of one,β you chortled. βfour wives, cregan! i could wager half the court believes he is the old gods and new cursed him, or he is hunting them for sport.β
βwhich do you believe?β
i believe,β you started, turning over to prop yourself on your elbow, βthat he simply cannot bear to have an empty bed for longer than a fortnight. he is too noble to find a lady of the night. few men cannot stand an empty hall.β
βfew men,β cregan parroted, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of silver hair behind your ear. βknow a good thing when they have had it, and go searching for it again the moment it is lost.β
you smiled, βmy, who would have thought the warden of the north had such a way with words?β
βlet me tell you more then,β he said shamelessly before flipping on top of you, holding back a giggle.
π€Λｑ π¦ Λβ½ΛｑβΒ
the shout of your boys carried across the training hard, punctuations left by the clacking of wooden swords, as well as your husbandβs patient corrections. your son, rickon, overcommitted on every swing, the stark stubbornness shining through. rodryck was more silent in his fights, more analytical of his older brotherβs mistakes before he made his own.
βrickon, elbow in,β cregan warned, stepping in to adjust the young boyβs grip. βnot chopping wood, aye?β
you sat a little further across the yard with the girls, a bow in your own hands that was being used more for decor than weaponry. saera was the one drawing now, a small doll face stitched together with concentration as she lined up a shot at the targets. raeya was tapping her boot against the ground, impatiently waiting for her turn.
βlike this,β you softly instructed, adjusting saeraβs positioning just as cregan did with rodryck previously, just a few dashes away. βsteady. release when you are ready, not when you think you are ready, rakaris.βΒ little love.
the arrow loosened and landed wide, but closer than her previous attempt. saera beamed as if she had just won a tourney.Β
βbetter!β you approved, and looked up to find cregan watching both of you, rather than the boys, for a moment. something soft appeared on his face before he caught himself, face pink, before turning back to correct rickonβs stance.
raeya groaned, patience running thin, but this time about something else. βwhen may we go to kingβs landing?β she tugged at your sleeve, restless as ever. βyou said we would meet uncle aegon's children.β
βnot for some time, my little wolf,β you hoped, testing the bowβs string idly. βnot while i am carrying your little brother or sister.β your hand briefly drifted to the curve beneath your furs.Β
βhow do you know it isn't another sister?β saera demanded, standing on raeyaβs behalf.Β
βi do not,β you admitted, a smile breaking through. βhowever, your father has convinced himself so.β
across the yard, without looking up from correcting your sonβs footwork, cregan called back, βi am always correct.β
βinsufferable, is he not?β you sighed solemnly, earning a giggle from both of them. in the distance, you saw creganβs mouth twitch with the smile he was having a difficult time hiding.
π€Λｑ π¦ Λβ½ΛｑβΒ
βi did it last time!β rickon insisted, already halfway up the steps of the platform, that you could put a halt to his actions.
βyou did not! you did it the time before that, it was my turn last timeββ rodryck was scrambling after him, naive to all, a chunk of meat clutched in his small fist as if it were a trophy he denied relinquishing.
the boys were always so excited to feed heartfyre, but their mischievous behavior made you wary of such sometimes.
βboth of you, off the steps,β cregan announced, in the tone he used when it was truly time to parent. a tone the boys learned to argue with. they halted, but continued to glare at each other with venom only siblings a year apart could follow through with.
βshe has no intention of eating either of you,β you said, amused, crouching down to your childrenβs height. βthough she may not eat out of the hand that is distraught with fear. the beasts of valyria know fear, and apparently, temper.β
your small word of advice got the boys to still, thankfully. heartfyre watched the entire exchange with calm, but considering eyes. a snort blew through her, just waiting to get her snack.
βrodryck can go first,β rickon murmured. generosity is never scarce in the north, and it never feels as such when your dragon hatchlings chatted. βsince heβs smaller and probably needs to practice more.β ah, there it was.
βi do not need practice,β rodryck spat, but he took the opening anyway and marched up with the chunk of meat like a pouch of rubies. he presented it to heartfyre, who took it with surprising delicacy and gentleness. rodryck turned back to you with a grin so wide it nearly cracked his face.
βyour turn,β you told rickon. he puffed his chest and made his way up the steps in his tiny boots. cregan watched the interaction with his arms crossed and the same soft, unguarded look he had on only with the four (almost five) of you.βthey shall fight about this until they are grown. or maybe until they both get their own dragonsβ
βgood,β you said, eyes closed, leaning against a tree. βthat means they shall still speak to one another.β
π€Λｑ π¦ Λβ½ΛｑβΒ
your first feast in wintefell was ghastly, especially since it was a celebration of the betrothal of two great houses. you were so nervous that you had barely eaten. the duck on your plate was untouched, and the fruits still assembled as they were before. every northern lord in the hall had looked at you the same way, with a polite, distant, awaiting look. most likely waiting to see if you had the blood of the dragon, or were just a pretty alliance for the warden.Β
if your family had taught you anything, it was to be prepared to win. never to lose.Β
βlord cerwyn,β you started, when the stern, greying man presented himself to you. βiron and ice, is that correct? i confess i find it strange for a house far from either to have words of such.β you smiled, easily and warmly. βthough i suppose after enough harsh winters, the two start to feel related.β
cerwyn blinked, startled that a southern princess had bothered learning anything, especially a northern house. he accepted the jest, however. βaye. that they do, my lady.β
you had complimented lord manderlyβs wine that somehow made its way to your feast. the hall began to shift, whispers and looks, yet not unkind. by the time you had greeted all the northern lords, the house words of all were familiar as fire and blood. scepticism thinned into respect and loyalty.
cregan found you near the end of the evening, cheeks flushed from wine and your efforts that were unexpected. βyou memorized every houseβs name in the north.β
βi memorized every house coming to our wedding feast,β you corrected. βa dragon only has so much patience.β
βthey did not expect as much,β cregan noted, bringing an arm to your waist.Β
βnay,β you agreed. you watched lord mormot laugh at something across the dining hall, who looked you up and down before sparking a conversation with you. βi donβt believe they expected me to try at all. most seem to forget i come from a line of conquerors.β
cregan took your hand, prideful and poised, before he looked at your eyes. βthe north remembers those who try.β
π€Λｑ π¦ Λβ½ΛｑβΒ
the solar in the red keep was warm with the sun of the morrow, and you sat with saera and raeya. the girls were settled in front of you, the scent of their hair hinting at scents of lavender and lemon. your old nurse hummed a valyrian hymn under her breath as she worked.
βtighter than that, please,β you directed her, watching her fingers make way through raeyaβs silver hair, with a streak of brown. βshe will tug it loose by supper if otherwise.β you took over her sisterβs plait yourself, fingers feeling along the hair to find the pattern. you took the three strands, crossing them back over themselves into the tight, elegant braid every targaryen woman had styled before you. styles meant to survive thrashing winds and dragonback.
βwhy do we wear them as such?β saera pondered, wincing for a moment as you tugged against her tender scalp.
βbecause your ancestors flew on dragons across the narrow sea in them. their locks would have been ruined by loose hair the moment they gained height,β you explained. βevery braid in this style is old enough to have crossed an ocean, Γ±uha dona rΕ«s. my sweet baby. your aunt rhaenyra wears them. your grandfather does too, when he still bothered.β
Β βcousin aegon never braids his!β raeya unhelpfully pointed out.
you scoffed and dryly said, βcousin aegon does away with many matters incorrectly.β
by the time you and the nurse had finished, both girls had proper valyrian crowns woven into their hair, so silver, yet a small streak of brown that dawned on it made it ten times more beautiful. it nearly vanished into itself, the plaiting that took years of practice and patience to get right.Β
you held up a looking glass to show the prideful crowns, the two turning their heads to see the patterns.
βnow we look like real princesses!β saera declared. βyou were always real princesses,β you reminded her, smoothing a loose wave. βnow you are valyrian ones.β
outside, kingβs landing was abrupt with its usual noise, contrasting with your home of winterfell, but for a morrow with your daughtersβ hair betwixt your digits and old hymns in your ear, it felt like home.
π€Λｑ π¦ Λβ½Λｑβ
lord wull was drunk, and three cups past the point of such, and had cornered you by the table with the confidence of a lord who had never been denied of anything.
βa maiden like you,β he slurred, the smell of wine apparent on him. βwasted up here in the cold. dragonstone, or even kingβs landing, should have pulled you for a keepsake. or even better, somewhere a lord could appreciate you properly.β
βi am no maiden, my lord,β you mumbled quietly, because your four brats were enough explanation. βand i am well appreciated,β you explained, stepping back into the wall. βby my husband.β
βhusbands get tasked,β he cooed, a hand approaching your waist. βcome now, just a danceββ
βas my lady wife stated, she is well appreciated, i assure you.β creganβs voice cut through the noise, making lord wullβs wandering hands falter. cregan did not raise his tone, simply because he did not need to. the lord of winterfell was rarely required to, and everyone in the hall knew it. he stepped between the two of you, and wull carried on with haste, deciding you were too much work for a man so slothful.Β
βmy lord stark,β wull began, sobering up fast, βi meant no harmββ
βmake way back to your chair, lord wull,β cregan ordered. no threat in his tone at all, yet the lesser lord fled.Β
cregan turned to you once wull left, a hand light against the small of your back. he checked over you without making it clear to the public, but ensured you were safe anyway. βare you well?β
βvery much so,β you laughed, tension releasing from your bones. βi could have handled him myself, you are aware, yes?β
βindeed, i am,β cregan admitted, not a tinge of remorse or sorrow in him. βi enjoyed denying him, however.β
βjealous wolf.β
βonly when warranted.β your lord husband pressed a brief kiss to your temple, unbothered by the eyes of the hall. βcome. dance with me instead. properly.β
you pretended to hesitate the request before you smiled and took his hand, glancing in lord wullβs direction with small satisfaction.
π€Λｑ π¦ Λβ½Λｑβ
short hcs β‘
π€ awaiting the lengthy time was worth the expression on your childrenβs faces. four dragon eggs, warmed in a chest, were sent to winterfell. you showed them the small, iridescent eggs, watching their eyes gleam. you told them you had to wait and keep them warm at all times, not letting the harsh chills of the north stunt them for even a moment.Β
π€ after many failed, solo lessons of teaching your children high valyrian, you asked cregan to search for anyone in winterfell or wintertown to assist them. you tried with all your might, but they just did not want to hear it. rickon would purposefully mispronounce things, rodryck was busy scribbling wolves into the parchment, saera was refusing to read any book, and raeya was sound asleep. the instructor cregan found was as old as vhagar, but her methods were ten times better than yours. safe to say, they were all wide awake, had books free of wolves, and better than aegon at the end of their first lesson.
π€ cregan would commission the seamstresses' new fur every season. he could tell when you wanted a new one, because you would either throw it off the bed in your sleep, or refuse to sleep with a fur whatsoever. when raeya was a babe, it was hare fur, when you were sick it was bear, when it was whatever winterfell considered spring, it was fox. he always knew.
π€ you and your lord husband, who were the most proud couple in the north, and maybe even westeros. you felt shame and guilt for your family, as they had to marry within and not choose lovers whom they resonated with. you told cregan tales of saddened cousins and aunts who had little to no choices in their partnership, making them bitter and aged like a rotten wine. he would thank you and always make you aware of the fact that you were his first and only choice to wed. a dragon and a wolf. an uncommon pair, but one that would last for eternity.
π€ cregan, who would comb your hair as you sat at your vanity, admiring the silver-strung locks. he would carefully pull the wooden comb through and watch as it fell through the bars. cregan would kiss the crown of your head, thinking of your children as well. βi am in disbelief that not a single one of them is entirely doused in brown hair.β you nodded in agreement, βas am i. guess iβm the chosen one.β he let you have that.
β‘
a/n: i loved writing this lol we r all happy targs in another lifetime!
hcs of cregan being the best husband ever! wc ~ 1.3k (part two with targaryen!reader here)
π€ cregan, as your husband, would be so adorable! you weren't used to the weather of the north just yet, so he had the seamstresses make you a ton of dresses lined with hare fur. they were made of the finest silks imported from lys, gemstones harvested from crownlands. of course, you denied the abundant gifts, but cregan rarely took no for an answer.Β
π€ every night you would return to bed around the hour of the bat, taking a bath your maids prepared. you requested the oils and soaps he favored, as he would compliment you every single night. your perfumes were, of course, imported from across westeros. every time you finished one, another would come right in. "creg, did you get this refilled?" you would ask. your lord husband would chuckle, "they came in this noon, from dorne. do you prefer the previous scent?" "no, my love, i love both."Β
π€ cregan would ensure the fire was lit in your shared chambers every single night. he would poke at it, watching the embers crackle. you would turn over, begging him to come to bed. "i'm warm enough, darling. come here." you wouldn't have to tell him twice!Β
π€ even though he exerts all of them, cregan's top love languages are definitely physical touch and quality time. he would cherish your touch, no matter what you were doing. simply holding his arm while you walked around winterfell would rile him up. combing his hair before going to break your fast. scratching his back at the end of a long day of hearing lesser lords bicker. he loved it all.Β
π€ just like his father, cregan was quite present and spent quality time with you as if you would disappear from his arms. whenever he could, he would just sit by you. you could just be embroidering the stark sigil into a slate frame, and he insisted on being shoulder to shoulder with you.Β
π€ if you ever get a cold from the harsh north's chills, he would actually faint. he would have multiple furs atop of you as you rested, maids and maesters by your side, body full of ointments. he would sit by your side, worried out of his mind. "cregan, i can assure you i am well. i just need more rest." "i am well aware, my love, but i need to stay by your side." you were far too drowsy from the milk of the poppy to refuse him.Β
π€ cregan would bring you up in every conversation he is in. of course, everyone knows you are the lady of winterfell, but how could they ever forget with cregan's constant reminders? "yes, my lady wife craves the lemon cakes the chefs make for conqueror's day almost monthly. we must find a more efficient way to make them." "my darling wife says we should ease on this particular wine. she did a tasting in king's landing and said she was quite crazed afterwards!" "the riverlands have choices of fashion that my sweet wife would die for. the textiles and dyes range quite differently from ours, don't you believe?"
π€ cregan would go hunting with his men, but sometimes he would ask you to go. reluctantly, you'd go anyway. he had an efficient gown and boots made for you, so there was no excuse to decline. you would ride on your horse beside him, gazing at the birds flying across the grey sky. you asked cregan if it would be okay if you didn't hunt, and he respected your wishes. it also made him change his mind, because now your hunt was turned into a bird-watching stroll.Β
π€ on cregan's name day, you would go all out. you and your ladies in waiting would prelare for weeks, hiding and cutting all kinds of corners to avoid him deciphering his presents. when you woke up next to him, you pressed a fat kiss to his lips, wishing him a great name day. you made sure that when you broke your fasts, all his favorite meals and dishes were present. soon after, you'd stroll along the corridors, talking about nothing and everything. "i know, i know! i told her that house beesbury was not a wise choice to marry into!" "nonsense, their honey supplies half the north." "i'm sure lord beesbury doesn't supply any honey to her in their chambers-"Β
π€ cregan, who would absolutely be enamored with you when the two of you lie together, but especially afterwards. his strong, muscular back would rest over your frame, full of red crescents from your nails. his sculpted arms would cage you, and his head would rest on your chest, hair tussled. you would stroke it, occasionally pressing a kiss to his forehead as you both drifted off into the night.Β
π€ your lord husband always desired a large family. his was small, just a brother and a bastard sister by his side, both of whom were lost in time. he never begged, never, but he would sometimes drop little hints into conversation. he didn't even intend to; the majority of the time, it just happened! one night, he was twirling your locks between his fingers as you rested on top of him. "do you think our children will have your hair, or mine? or will some have yours, some have mine?" "maybe our daughter would like that," he mentioned, as he looked at a doll that a young girl was holding. "our son would be a great swordsman. perhaps even better than i or my father," he would say to himself as he sharpened his blade.Β
π€ cregan, who would ultimately pump you full of children. he assured you at the beginning of your betrothal that he would wait as long as you wished to start your family, as you were both still fairly young for a wedded couple. however, the bond between you and your husband was stronger than the wall itself. you never set a limit on how many children, because you didn't realize it would get this far. you were already at four, with a fifth on the way. he was present at every birth, holding your hand as you howled.Β
π€ the two of you would decide on names the moment you found out you were with child. he named your first son after his father, the second after your brother. your two daughters were named after your sister and a previous stark wife. you have yet to find out the gender of your fifth, but he was ecstatic nonetheless. he would rub your swollen feet, massage your tight shoulders, and tend to your cravings. he would immediately have the chefs put together your insane meal requests, never questioning them.Β
π€ at a feast to celebrate the arrival of your child, he would proudly parade through the halls with you, hand on your belly. oh, and don't even let a lord be near you during your pregnancy or not! he would be glued to your side, making sure that the stark sigil on the gown was shown. he corrected anyone who referred to you with your birth house name instead of stark. it was more subtle, though. you told him many people either were used to calling you your previous name or simply didn't know which you preferred.Β
π€ a lesser lord would say,Β "lady ___'s father said she was particularly fond of the paintings in the vale." cregan would be slightly annoyed but would remember your little reminder. "lady stark enjoys them quite much. i was planning on requesting access to them, or somehow bringing them to winterfell for her to see."Β
π€ cregan, who sneaks around the corridors with you, giggling in the dead of the night. you kiss passionately in the halls, shushing each other when you hear faint footsteps. as if you were both a lad and a maiden still, you never dared to engage in anything outside your chambers. he preferred the privacy and quiet of your shared chambers, surrounded by the crackling fire and, in a distant room, the faint slumber of your newborn.Β
π€Λｑ π¦ Λβ½Λｑβ
a/n : hi i love asoiaf sm i also miss seeing tom taylors beautiful face
fucking dex in his bullseye suit, breeding, daddy kink, fingers in mouth, riding, manhandling, age gap (wc ~ 1.1k)
imagine dex coming back from his nightly patrol in his full bullseye suit with no intention of taking it off just yet. dex sneaked back into your shared apartment, silently locking the door behind him. you were in your bed, your cover tussled.Β
you were faintly drifting off into sleep, mumbling in the covers. even though you constantly called your boyfriend an old man, you had the bed time of a woman double his age. dex always insisted you to sleep if he never came home in time, as he always would. you drowned your face into dex's pillow, trying to smell bits of him. dex came into your bedroom, but did not make a sound to signal his arrival.Β
he stood at the doorframe and looked at your figure. you were turned over, tiny sleep shorts riding up. the straps of your tank top were falling, and dex held back the urge to pull them back, snapping against the soft skin.Β
dex took a step forward, the carpet dampening the sound of thick boots. he strode to the bed now, taking a seat at the edge. he raised a gloved hand to stroke your hair, smoothing it down. "my girl," he whispered, before coming to lay a kiss. you murmured, something about dex coming to bed and how you miss him.Β
dex chuckles at your antics, in awe of how gorgeous you are while disheveled in the sheets. dex's finger travelled down your spine, all the way to your bottom. you were now up, blinking yourself awake. "hi, dexy," you smiled. "hey, princess," rasped. you turned over to your side, clawing a hand at his chest, threading your hand through his greying, golden locks. "i missed you.. i tried to stay up. i couldn't, though, i got sleepy." dex took your hand and kissed it, "no problem. my girl's still tired?" you nodded, mumbling a yes.Β
dex hummed in acknowledgment, putting your hand back so he could change. but you tugged your hand to place it back on his chest, pulling him forward. "not tired enough to sleep, though," you cooed. dex smelt of rain and his usual cologne, a mix that always drove you up the walls. "want you, hun." dex replied, "let me shower first baby." you shook your head, "no, no, want you like this." dex raised a brow, bemused by your sentence. "in my suit?" you nodded with haste, "yes dexy, now," you peeped, pulling yourself up.Β
you licked your lips before pressing a kiss to dex's, kissing through his mask. he kissed back with passion, trying his best not to claw you apart. he pulled his arms around you, pulling you into his lap. "miss you so much, always leavin' me." dex cradled your head, taking a good look at you. your eyes were still half-lidded,Β but full of love. your lips parted, bringing dex's hand to them. he understood what you wanted and set his thimb against your glossed lips. he squished them before tapping them twice, signalling you to open.Β
you gladly obliged, sucking the gloved finger. your lashes batted at him, before turning so your back was against his chest. dex's large hands trailed down your body, raising goosebumps. before, you saw masked vigilantes, and fear arose in your body. however, since you saw dex in his suit, a warmth bloomed in you. though you've never told him, you always wished he would take you in it, helpless and bound.Β
you wished he would come in the dead of the night to scare you back to life. dex stroked both your thighs before pulling them apart. you yelped in surprise, before whispering something just enough for him to hear. "be rough dex. use me." dex didn't reply, but kissed your cheek, maybe as a silent 'thank you.' he pulled your shorts down, the thin fabric pooling at your feet. "dirty girl," he hissed, seeing that you had no underwear on. dex slapped your core, making you cry out.Β
he closed his other hand around your mouth, muffling the sound. he circled your pearl, making you twist and turn. he removed the hand from your mouth to hold you tight, not wanting you to escape. dex pulled the frilly fabric of your tank top down, groping your chest. you squeezed your eyes shut, grunting at his manhandling in eagerness. he held you tight before fumbling with his belt and pants, pulling himself out.Β
he gave himself a couple of strokes before probing you, spreading your legs further. he moved down to kiss your neck, sucking on the flesh through the mask. he circled your entrance with his finger, making you moan egregiously. he shushed you, "quiet, doll." you tried shutting your legs from the stimulation, but he pulled them apart once again.Β
he lifted you slightly, pulling you down on his length. he didn't ease in this time, making tears prick your eyes. your lip quivered, dex making you turn so he could kiss you. he silenced you through the aggressive pull, forcing you to stay right where he wanted you. he lifted you, tip prodding your entrance. thrill flowed through your blood, feeling full everywhere. dex groaned gutturally, pleasure-filled.Β
"look at you, so needy for me." you looked up at dex, staring into his blackened eyes. they were wide with lust, the type he got when he ended a life. your fear-instilled, furrowed brows gave him meaning, meaning to be more rash. he used you like a ragdoll, throwing you around on his cock. you threw your head back, wanting to scream until his hand came back. your eyes met his again, except this time his were closed. you could tell dex was close, his movements stiffening.Β
you grabbed his bicep, the muscle flexing from keeping you still. your nails dug into the suit, nearly hard enough to leave crescent marks. "my little doll, all fucking mine, hm?" you nodded your head, mumbling, "i'm all yours, dexy, all yours, daddy." that was the final stretch for dex, making him grunt a final push to your cervix.Β
you swore you saw white, your vision blurring. soon after, you felt the warm cum inside your belly, overfilling your tiny cunt. you whined against dex, clawing at his chest behind you. "dex, full.."Β
dex shook his head, "nah, you need more, princess. swear iβll put a baby inside you, donβt need to leave me." dex pulled out of you, remnants of him oozing out and dripping onto the hardwood floor. dex stroked himself a few times before cumming on your stomach. you lazily looked down at the mess, eyes slowly shutting. you traced a heart between the droplets before your head fell. dex craned over to kiss your cheek, cooing, "i love you, my little girl." he ran a bubble bath as he always promised.
π£
a/n : hi very rushed and not proofread but at least i wrote! also im taking a teeny weeny break cause im taking an online course thats super hard so ill be back around august! for now im just posting little blurbs like this.
