Sarih @sahvlren - Tumblr Blog

i’m not sure how much you want to write for bobby franklin, but just in case, i wondered what you’d think of boyfriend!bobby helping his girlfriend cope with nightmares/trauma responses to what the two of them see after escaping the backrooms 💘

boyfriend!bobby comforting you after nightmares ⊹ ࣪ ˖

the backrooms had spit you out eventually, dragged you both through enough horror to leave your nerves permanently frayed, but escape did not mean peace.

it did not mean sleep came easy.

it did not mean your body understood that the fluorescent hum was gone, that the endless yellow walls were behind you, that the fear was supposed to stay there too.

it followed you home.

celestialwyvern

WRONG NUMBER - Aerion Targaryen

SUMMARY - You receive a message from a random number and you two begin texting frequently. However, you accidentally figure out who it is.

CONTAINS - banter (crack to a point), aerion is aerion, modern AU, peep the small details!!

A/N - i keep getting vague modern aerion requests soo!

Your phone vibrated against your mattress late at night.

You rolled over, the glare of the screen hitting your eyes in your dark room. It was an unsaved number.

UNKNOWN: where the fuck is the link for davis’s class

tolucalakke

midnight036

oh to be parents with him at a controversially young age

calledannabella

evil labubu

witchezandwonderz

A Second Small Tale of Unequal Hearts

Pairing: Aerion Targaryen x sweet wife reader

Word Count: idkkkk again, but I am pretty sure that it is longer than the first one.

Summary: Aerion is cruel but you, his wife are the complete opposite. After nearly being trampled by a horse, Aerion's young squire saves you in an attempt to save the sweet princess. You take full blame for his injury.

I haven't proof read because I just don't have it in me rn, so I am sorry if there are any spelling/grammar/punctuation errors- I will get to it eventually.

Warning: Mentions of violence, violence

Reblogs, comments and likes are very appreciated :)

Masterlist

My requests are open.

“Be careful, the hem of your dress will ruin.”

You heard your husband’s words clearly, yet chose not to listen. The floor beneath was muddy, and there was not much you could do to stop that. The last thing you cared for would be a little bit of brown mud stuck to your dress.

“It will only be a smidge of mud, my love. I have plenty of other gowns.” Your words were sweet like honey. In Aerion’s opinion, all of your words were sweet- even in the rare times that you lost your temper. Or your version of losing your temper, anyway, which usually meant a stern face and a huff. Aerion’s version of losing his temper tended to be entirely different.

Aerion let out a huff through his nose, a grin on his lips and clasped his hand in yours. “I am well aware. I paid a lot to ensure that they were all especially made to your liking.”

luvmaekar

Sooo what would happen if the former bethrothed of wife!reader who is now a widow because his lady wife died, visited her in summerhall and at first Aerion wasn’t even aware that there was a guest because he is just too busy with lyra but when the servants starts to whispers of this same handsome lord courting her and suggesting her an annulment, and he sees how she is smiling and she looks so pretty again what would he do? Because I think the situation would stress him even more because she seems to not care anymore about him, and each time they interact he is crueler than before and his father is not against letting her go through with the annulment… 😝

I love the way your brain works, ahhhhh

but let’s make it more interesting and have her old betrothed propose the annulment behind her back— just for the plot

husband!Aerion x wife!Reader

summary: For days now, your old betrothed has been walking the halls of Summerhall— and you seem to be blooming again, truly enjoying his presence. But it doesn't last long, because your husband quickly steps in to ruin it. Eventually, you let your lust take over you.

cw: 18+ (mdni), dark!Aerion, strong language, power imbalance, cheating, abusive relationship, manhandling, fingering(f!receiving), graphic violence, voyeurism & exhibitionism, dub-con, mentions of grief/childbirth loss(not the main characters/reader)

wc: 4k

For the past few days, Gerold Lannister has been a constant presence in the hallways of Summerhall, brightening the gloomy rooms with his warm, easy charm. More than anything, you are overjoyed to have a familiar face nearby—someone completely untainted by the suffocating, toxic atmosphere of the castle. It is a breath of fresh air.

A few weeks ago, you received word that his wife had tragically passed away in childbirth, taking their newborn babe with her. Unable to fathom the depths of such grief, you began writing to him. What started as a simple letter of condolence quickly blossomed into a meaningful correspondence, eventually prompting the man to pay a visit to Summerhall. Officially, of course, his journey is a diplomatic one—an opportunity to strengthen political ties and get to know Prince Maekar a little better.

In reality, he has spent far more time with you over the last few days than he has with the Prince. Your mornings have settled into a comforting routine: a quiet stroll through the gardens followed by hours spent talking on a secluded bench, as if neither of you carried the heavy burden of royal expectations. For the first time in years, you are actually happy. Usually, the people around you are either bound to you by duty or choose to ignore your existence entirely.

Your sudden happiness hasn't gone unnoticed. You are blooming; your hair has regained its luster, you’ve begun wearing your finest silks and jewelry again, and the hollow expression on your face has been replaced by a frequent, genuine smile.

At first, Aerion paid no attention to the change—ignoring how you sat at your vanity for hours while your ladies-in-waiting dressed you, how you rose at dawn just to walk before breakfast, or how you suddenly took an interest in buying vibrant new fabrics from the market.

He only realized something was wrong when he caught sight of you sitting alone on a bench with the Lannister heir. He watched from afar as your bodies leaned in close, noting how you shyly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear—a nervous habit you used to have around Aerion when you were freshly in love. He used to call that your "tell"; it was how he always knew he had won your affection.

It is no surprise that you are drawn to Gerold. He was, after all, your former betrothed—before Aerion decided to tear the match apart before it could even begin. Years ago, Aerion had called off your engagement faster than you could blink, ensnaring you instead with empty promises and a hollow affection that drew you helplessly under his spell. Even now, the memory of the absolute chaos you two caused—and how furious your parents were over those reckless, impulsive choices—lingers in the air.

But all Aerion sees now is you slipping through his fingers, craving another man's warmth. A sickening, sharp pang of jealousy flares in his chest. He wants nothing more than to punish you for looking at someone else with such passion. He forces himself to stay in control, knowing that reacting too violently would expose his weakness, but God only knows how utterly unhinged he feels in this exact moment.

Stepping out from the shadows, he casually slides onto the bench right beside you, draping a heavy arm over your shoulder with a practiced, hollow smile. "Good morning, wife. Aren't you going to introduce me?" he asks cheerfully, his voice entirely devoid of the malice burning inside him.

The easy atmosphere vanishes instantly, and your posture stiffens under his touch. "Husband," you murmur politely, "this is Gerold Lannister—"

"—perhaps you remember me from before you intervened, back when I still intended to make your wife my bride," Gerold cuts in, his tone sharp. The corner of Aerion's mouth twitches, his fake smile dropping instantly to reveal his usual cold, hardened expression. His grip tightens painfully against your shoulder. Yet, despite the tension, you can't help but look down, a small, subtle smile playing on your lips.

"Ah, yes. I heard your wife passed recently. You have my condolences," Aerion replies, though his words drip with a cruel, mocking sarcasm rather than genuine sympathy. Gerold flinches slightly at the jab. For the rest of the morning, you are trapped between two men locked in a silent war of egos. Aerion sits beside you with an aggressive, dominant stance, his leg deliberately brushing against yours at every opportunity.

When a maid finally approaches to call you away, you practically leap from the bench. Following her toward the dining hall, you feel the suffocating weight lift from your chest with every step of distance you put between yourself and your husband.

For the days that follow, Aerion becomes crueler than ever before. If once you believed his neglect to be the worst punishment he could inflict, you soon discover how mistaken you are. Indifference is a mercy compared to obsession— now his eyes never leave you. Where once he treated you as though you were invisible, he now watches your every movement with unnerving attention. Wherever you go, he is there. If you walk through the halls, his presence lingers somewhere behind you. If you dine, his gaze finds you across the table. If you ride, he appears nearby beneath one excuse or another— it is as though a shadow has attached itself to your heels. The constant scrutiny becomes unbearable.

At least the nights remain your own. Aerion still spends them in the chambers of his beloved, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the silence of your rooms. There is something almost laughable in the arrangement when viewed from afar. The mornings belong to you, the nights to her— neither woman receives the whole of him, and yet somehow both are burdened by his presence. Worse still, Gerold becomes increasingly difficult to see. Since the incident, opportunities for private conversation have nearly vanished. Every corridor seems watched. Every gathering feels observed.

One night, unable to endure it any longer, you make a decision. If Aerion is elsewhere, then you intend to make use of his absence. Sleep refuses to come regardless— for hours you toss restlessly beneath your blankets, staring into darkness while thoughts churn endlessly within your mind. At last, with a quiet sigh of frustration, you rise from your bed. A light mantle is thrown over your nightdress, concealing it from curious eyes.

Then you slip from your chambers. The guard stationed outside your door immediately straightens, “my lady?”, “I need a breath of fresh air,” you reply. The man takes a step forward, clearly intending to accompany you— you stop, “alone.” The single word leaves little room for argument. Reluctantly, he bows his head.

You move through the sleeping castle with careful steps, your heart beating faster than it should. Moonlight spills through narrow windows, painting silver paths across the stone floors. Finding Gerold’s chambers proves easier than expected. Soon enough you stand before a familiar door. Fortune favors you tonight. No guards stand watch outside. For several moments you simply stare. Then you raise your hand and knock.

Only once.

The sound feels impossibly loud. Your fingers tighten around the fabric of your mantle as you wait. Seconds later, the door opens. And there he is— the very man your thoughts have sought countless times these past weeks.

His hair is tousled from sleep, dark strands falling carelessly across his brow. His chest is bare, illuminated by the warm glow of candlelight spilling from the room behind him. The sight catches you off guard. “I am sorry,” you say quickly, lowering your gaze. “I did not mean to wake you.” You focus desperately on anything but the exposed skin before you— the floor, the wall, the doorway— anywhere else.

“No, no,” he replies with a warm smile. “Come inside. I was simply unprepared for visitors”, his voice remains rough with sleep, deeper than usual. Stepping aside, he gestures for you to enter. Once the door closes behind you, he retrieves a shirt and pulls it over himself, sparing you further embarrassment. The room falls quiet.For a moment neither of you knows what to say— then you gather your courage.

“I feel alone,” you admit softly. “More alone than I have in a very long time.” Your fingers twist together before you. “Until you returned to my life.” He says nothing— you continue. “I am grateful for all the kindness you have shown me these past weeks. Truly grateful.” Silence settles between you— not an uncomfortable silence. A gentle one. The kind that exists only between people who understand one another.

Gerold studies you carefully. For him, the moment feels almost unreal. Like the fulfillment of a dream long abandoned. A smile appears upon his face before he can stop it. “I confess,” he says quietly, “I have cherished our time together as well” his gaze softens. “You have helped me forget many things I would rather not remember.” Slowly, he steps closer.

Then another.

And another.

The distance between you diminishes until his presence surrounds you completely. There is an intimacy in that simple closeness unlike anything you have felt from Aerion in recent memory. Soon only inches remain. Close enough to feel the warmth of his breath. Close enough that your pulse begins to race. Gerold lifts a hand— slowly, carefully. His fingertips brush the side of your neck. The touch is impossibly gentle. A shiver races across your skin— goosebumps rises along your arms. Your breathing grows heavier.

Your heart pounds against your ribs with such force that you fear he might hear it. Without a word, he reaches for the mantle draped around your shoulders. Slowly he draws it away. The garment slips downward, no longer shielding the delicate nightdress beneath. Your breath catches, “we should not do this,” you whisper. The protest sounds weak even to your own ears.

“Hush now, Princess. I would grant you a kindness in return for all the comfort you have shown me these past weeks,” the man says softly. As he speaks, his hand drifts ever lower, gliding from the swell of your breast, over the curve of your belly, and at last between your thighs. He draws aside the delicate garment that shields your modesty, though little distance remains between the two of you now. His brow rests near your neck, and he scatters tender kisses along your throat— kisses gentler by far than any Aerion has ever bestowed.

Slowly, yet with unwavering purpose, his fingers find the small, sensitive pearl hidden between your legs. They move in careful circles, coaxing pleasure from your body until your breath grows unsteady. One of your arms slips around his neck, drawing him closer as you press yourself against him. Gerold lifts you with surprising ease and settles you upon the table behind you. All the while, his lips continue their pilgrimage across your throat, and his hands work their quiet sorcery, never ceasing, never faltering.

Before long, you feel him ease himself from your embrace. He lowers himself to his knees before you and gently parts your legs with both hands. His lips begin to wander across the soft flesh of your inner thighs, placing reverent kisses there as though worshipping at a sacred altar.

“Do you trust me?” he asks between those kisses, his voice rich with temptation. All you can offer in reply is a desperate nod. You feel his mouth drawing ever nearer to your most intimate flesh. Your head falls back. Your breathing trembles, caught between nervousness and longing. Somewhere within, you know what passes between you is wrong— yet you have hungered for the touch of a man for so long that you cannot bring yourself to ask him to stop.

Then his mouth finds you. You feel him suck gently at your most sensitive place while his tongue labors to draw more pleasure from you. Two fingers move within you, slow and steady, sliding in and out with maddening precision. Your hands seem to belong to someone else. Again and again, they find his hair, tugging at it— whether you wish to push him away or pull him closer, even you cannot say. Your lips part into a silent circle. A moan swells within your throat, too much to remain hidden.

It has been so long since you have felt this desired. So long since you have felt worthy of devotion and attention. Strange that such feelings come only through the hands of another man. A heat begins to gather deep within your belly. It grows stronger with every passing moment until it bends your back and tears a helpless cry from your lips. You press his head closer still, drunk upon desire as though it were the strongest wine ever poured.

So intoxicated are you that you fail to notice the figure standing in the doorway.

Your husband.

Aerion watches in utter silence— his face is carved from stone. Your heart stumbles within your chest. Your first instinct is to shove the man away— yet the aching need for release has wrapped its claws around you and will not let go. Instead, you find yourself looking directly into Aerion’s eyes while another man’s tongue and fingers continue their work upon your body.

He is testing you. He wishes to see whether you will cast the man aside— or continue. Aerion stands motionless, as though frozen in place. His eyes cling to the sight before him with a terrible fascination. His irises appear nearly black, swallowed by pupils widened despite the bright chamber— they have widened from desire, a desire he struggles with all his strength to suppress.

He stares at you— perhaps he wishes to tear you apart. Perhaps he wishes to throw the man from the nearest tower. Perhaps both. The muscles of his face are drawn so tightly that it seems the vein upon his brow might burst. His jaw is locked. His brows are pulled together in furious restraint.

Your own breathing becomes ragged. Your chest rises and falls with hurried gasps. Against all reason, the knowledge that Aerion watches and does nothing only deepens your arousal. In your thoughts, it is not Gerold upon his knees. It is Aerion.

You imagine his tongue upon you. You imagine his hand gripping your thigh, fingers digging firmly into your flesh to keep you still. You imagine his lips wandering across every inch of your body, warm and demanding.

Then it comes— your body erupts with bliss. A loud moan escapes you. The sensation is overwhelming, a flood of pleasure so fierce that it steals the strength from your limbs and tears a hoarse cry from your throat. You cling to the man before you, fearing that if you let go, reality itself will come crashing down around you.

Aerion watches every detail. He sees your trembling legs attempting to close. He sees your eyes roll back. He sees your nails buried in the man’s hair. He notices the sheen of sweat upon your upper lip and every sound that escapes your mouth. He notices everything— so much so that even he can no longer deny the effect the sight has upon him.

At last, the man withdraws his fingers and gazes up at you in admiration. To him, you are a masterpiece. His eyes linger upon his glistening hand, slick with evidence of your pleasure. A faint smile touches his lips. Slowly, he raises those fingers and smears their moisture across your mouth like paint upon a canvas— You part your lips and he slides his fingers inside. And you clean them with your tongue while never once breaking eye contact— the chamber falls silent.

Then Aerion speaks, “I see you have been enjoying the company of my wife, Gerold.” The words strike like a hammer. The man jerks upright and turns. You hastily wipe your mouth with the sleeve of your gown and tug your garments back into place. “My Prince—” “Shhh.”, Aerion is suddenly beside him. One finger rests against the man’s lips, “say nothing.” His voice is calm— far too calm. The courage that filled you only moments ago vanishes like mist before the sun.

“You know,” Aerion says, pacing slowly across the chamber, “I believed my wife capable of many things. Yet a whore…” a dark laugh interrupts his own sentence. The sight of him moving back and forth only deepens the dread gathering in your stomach. Then he stops and raises a finger. “Though perhaps the fault lies with me. I have neglected her of late. Yes. Neglected. That seems the proper word.”

His gaze never leaves Gerold. “And she believes herself entitled to share her bed with another man. Is that not so, Wife?” The final word is spoken like an insult— the air in the room grows heavy. You attempt to hold his gaze, but anger forces you to look away.

Aerion studies the man before him. He sees the fear hidden beneath the bravado. At length, he exhales a quiet laugh. “With which hand did you touch her?“, “My Prince—”, “Which hand?”

The question cracks through the room like a whip. Aerion takes a step forward. “Or was it both?” The whisper carries the weight of a threat. “The right, my Prince.” Aerion nods—nothing more. Then he steps back. “Ser Harys. Enter.” The guardsman immediately obeys.

Suddenly, realization crashes over you like icy water— “No,” you whisper. No one hears. The guard waits for his command.

“Remove the boy’s right hand,” Aerion says. “He has laid hands upon a member of the royal family.” The words are spoken without emotion— the room darkens around you. “Ser Harys, you cannot— Prince Maekar would never permit such a thing—” you try to protest. “Do not listen to her,” Aerion snaps. “I am your prince.”

The guard hesitates only a moment. Then duty prevails— steel flashes. The man struggles to maintain his pride until the final instant, but when the blade bites through flesh and bone, a scream bursts from him. A terrible scream. One that seems to tear straight through your heart— you cry out as well.

The sight is unbearable. Blood spills across the table. The severed hand tumbles to the floor. The man collapses, begging for help. And all of it feels like your fault. You leap forward, desperate to reach him, desperate to ease his suffering— however, Aerion catches your arm. He drags you back so sharply that you stumble against his chest. “Fetch the maesters!” you cry. “Help him!” The guard rushes to obey.

“Look well, Wife,” Aerion murmurs into your ear. He stands so close that his breath brushes your skin. “This is what becomes of men who draw too near to you.” A chill races through your body. “You should think carefully before repeating such mistakes,” he continues. “Perhaps five times carefully. That is how many fingers he has lost today, is it not?” You can scarcely breathe.

Blood stains the chamber. The wounded man whimpers in agony. His severed hand lies abandoned upon the stones. You turn your head away. At last, Aerion releases you— the moment freedom is granted, you flee. You rush from the chamber and nearly collide with a maester hurrying inside. “Forgive me,” you manage to say.

Behind you, Aerion remains where he stands. And deep within him some dark and pathological hunger has— for the moment, been satisfied.

·༻𐫱༺·

“Have you lost what little wits the gods granted you, boy?!” Maekar’s voice crashes through the chamber like thunder. At the far end of the table sits Aerion, silent and unmoving, while his father paces before him like a caged beast. For what feels like an eternity, the older man has stalked the length of the room without rest, turning sharply at every corner— his boots striking the stone floor with enough force to shake the very air.

The sight would almost be comical were it not for the fury written across his face. “As though it were not enough that you shame this family with your endless scandals,” Maekar continues, his voice no softer despite the minutes that have already passed, “you have now commanded a royal guard to sever the hand of a nobleman!” His words echo from the walls— Aerion says nothing.

For nearly a quarter of an hour the tirade has continued uninterrupted. Complaint after complaint pours from Maekar’s lips while Aerion remains seated, listening in grim silence. Whether it is patience or stubbornness that keeps him rooted to that chair, even he may not know. “How is it possible,” Maekar demands, throwing his hands into the air, “that a man of your age can still behave with such astonishing foolishness? Did I not raise you with my own hands? Did I not teach you better than this?”

The prince finally halts his pacing. With long strides he approaches the table until he stands directly before his son. “Do you possess the slightest understanding of what this may cost us?” he asks. “Do you understand what sort of scandal you have unleashed upon this house?” Aerion merely shakes his head— “No. He laid hands upon my wife. He crossed a boundary no man should cross. Now he suffers the consequences of his actions.”

A sharp crack resounds through the chamber as Maekar slams his palm against the table. “Your wife?” he roars. “You speak of your wife as though you have shown her any honor! You stained that marriage from its very beginning!” The words strike true and Aerion’s jaw tightens. The muscles along his neck draw taut, yet he offers no answer.

“Lord Lannister will demand justice,” Maekar continues. “The man will demand your hand in payment for the one his son has lost—“ “Then perhaps his son should tell him precisely what he was doing,” Aerion replies coldly. “Perhaps then the Lannister boy would cease questioning the honor of House Targaryen.”

The older man stares at him in disbelief. For a long moment, only silence remains between them. At last Maekar exhales heavily and rubs a hand across his face. “Boy,” he says, the fire in his voice giving way to weary resignation, “you should pray that young Lannister does not seek vengeance for this. Pray harder than you have ever prayed in your life.”

The strength seems to leave him all at once. He sinks into the nearest chair as though carrying the weight of the realm upon his shoulders. For several moments neither man speaks.

Then Maekar leans back and studies his son. “There is something else you should know.“ Aerion finally lifts his gaze. “Several days ago, he came to me seeking an annulment“ the words hang in the air. “He spoke of ending this marriage entirely. In fact, he offered the suggestion gladly enough— the boy proposed binding you instead to that little whore you have been keeping company with and allowing her to go free.”

Aerion’s expression darkens, Maekar notices. He continues nonetheless, “as compensation, he offered to persuade his father to provide substantial payment to the Crown. Enough to smooth over the matter and preserve appearances“ a bitter laugh escapes him. “And I very nearly agreed“ the confession causes Aerion’s eyes to narrow. “Of course,” Maekar adds, “I would have spoken with you first. Yet somehow I knew you would never accept such an arrangement.”

His gaze drifts toward the window. “Not because of honor. Not because of duty.” His eyes return to his son, “but because you cannot bear to be without her.” Aerion remains silent. The accusation lands harder than any shout. “You forget,” Maekar says quietly, “who begged for this marriage”, his voice is calm now, stripped of all anger. “You were the one who came to me. You were the one who pleaded with me to arrange the match despite her betrothal to the Lannister heir.”

The room grows still, “so do not stand before me now and pretend she means nothing to you.” For a long moment, Maekar simply looks at him— Gods above, where had he failed? What mistake had he made that this man sat before him as his son? The thought alone exhausts him. At last he shakes his head, “I am ashamed of you,” the words are not shouted— they are spoken softly. Yet they cut deeper than every accusation that came before.

Aerion rises so suddenly that his chair scrapes violently across the floor. For the first time that evening, genuine emotion flashes across his face— not anger, not arrogance, something far more wounded. Without another word, he turns and strides from the chamber, the doors slam shut behind him. Maekar is left alone with the echo.

a/n: just so you guys know, this is what happens when another man touches what’s his… so let’s rethink about her cheating again

taglist: @mommyoftwoo @1yoko-j @kravitzwhore @nanascharms @galactict3a @goodgirlgonedgt4l @ladylottiee @amoguswife @iliestillandstraight @fictionanddiatribes @aeriontargaryenslover

moody-alcoholic

Red is for virgins

John Price x f!reader (eventual Poly 141 x reader) Part 1 of 5

CW: Breeding kink, PiV sex, mild dubcon, cum play, oral (F receiving), mafia AU, sex auction.

Masterlist - AO3 - Next

Red is for virgins.

That's the only thing you were told when you asked why your name was in red on the board. It matches your dress. The same deep crimson. You look around you and see many other women of all shapes and sizes wearing similar dresses of different colours.

dreamed-dusk

moon song [iv] | Modern!AU

Synopsis: In which the reader is a veterinary surgeon who helps an injured man one night.

Word Count: 5k+

Tags: Modern!AU, veterinarian!Reader, fem!Reader, reference to crime and mafia, description of wounds, patching up injuries, tension, slightly dark!Baelor, slightly dark!Targaryens, medical inaccuracies, age gap

Note: so sorry it took forever for me to update, but I should be posting on schedule from now on <3 my exams are officially over!!! more chapters to come shortly!!

Masterlist

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Next Chapter ->

The words came out slurred, almost incoherent.

But the sheer violence of them wasn't muffled.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Aerion didn't have the strength to sit up, to move, to do anything, but he still tried. Hands grabbing blindly at the sheets that pooled at his waist, the foreign line that was forced into his veins, injecting Seven knows what sort of poison into him; his movements were desperate, clumsy.

osarina

ঌ LAMENTABLY YOURS

FEATURING: aerion targaryen x fem!reader

SUMMARY: an excerpt of letters exchanged between you and aerion during his time with the golden company. or, a collection of aerion being the fakest idgafer of all time.

WARNINGS: fem!reader. reader comes from Valyrian lineage but no physical traits are mentioned/described. Aerion typical threats of violence and possessive behavior.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: A shorter part today! The next part is likely going to be quite long & rather intense, so it will take a while, please be patient with me!!! I'm considering putting a taglist together for the next part just because I anticipate it will be a handful of weeks before I post it, so if you'd like to be included on that taglist, please comment below! I had a lot of fun with this part because it was different from what I usually write, so it was fun trying to convey both of their deteriorating mental states without any internal narration. BUT WE'RE ALMOST BACK TO WESTEROS!!! I have two more parts planned set in Lys, and then we are heading across the Narrow Sea, and things are going to get #complicated for our favorite toxic couple. Comments and reblogs always appreciated! I hope you guys enjoy!

READ: IKSAN AŌHON, IKSĀ ÑUHON

bambeloniii

good girls don't work for Targaryens - chapter 4

~ anything, everything ~

tags: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, caretaker au, dark romance, richboy/poor girl, class difference, toxic relationship dynamics, emotional manipulation, obsessive/possessive behavior, power imbalance, intimidation, degradation, praise & humiliation kink undertones, angst with smut, hurt/comfort, sex (p in v), oral sex (m receiving), rough sex, hair pulling, face fucking, deep throating, creampie, marking, smoking, dom!aerion

Maybe he was hiding. Yes, Aerion was just hiding. He loved messing with you and this was just another one of his cruel jokes. It had to be.

You quickly threw everything off the bed, duvet cover, sheets - and nothing.

That's alright. Aerion would never be that obvious; he must be somewhere else in the apartment.

You strode into the bathroom, unconscious of how fast and frantic your movements were.

"Aerion?"

No answer.

You spent the next half hour tearing the apartment to pieces looking for him. You opened every door, searched every corner, shouted his name countless times -

Nothing.

You circled the apartment dozens of times, retracing your steps, smothering yourself in denial.

Everything was alright. He was just out. Nothing happened last night. Nothing at all. You are his nurse and he needed care. It was simple.

Your sweaty palms, the tremor in your limbs, the shakiness in your voice that amplified every time you called his name with no answer - it didn't mean anything. You were just... concerned. About your job. About your boss.

That's all he was.

Even when he trembled in your arms, his sweat melting into your skin, his body desperately seeking your touch -

He was just your boss.

None of it meant anything.

He was your patient.

Your responsibility.

If something happened to him, you would be the one who had to explain it to his father.

That's all this was.

You made a cup of tea to distract yourself as you paced around the kitchen, stopping dead in your tracks at even the quietest of noises. A distant elevator ding, a bird tweeting on the balcony - it was pathetic how much hope they all gave you.

Nothing could dull the thoughts burning through your skull. The image of him wandering through the city, sick and confused, weak and helpless, twisted into you like a knife.

No. It didn't matter anymore. What you were feeling, why, it was all bullshit.

You had to find him. And you had to find him now.

___________

You pushed past the pharmacy doors like you were breaking down a barricade. The pharmacist, the customers, every head in the store turned. You didn't care. How could it possibly matter right now?

"Have you seen Aerion?"

You startled at the sound of your voice - such a sad, small sound.

The pharmacist laughed casually.

"Nobody's seen your boss in weeks. Don't have a clue where he is, where he's been, or what the fuck you've been running around doing that psycho's bidding for."

A few customers snickered.

Someone muttered something under their breath.

You couldn't make out the words.

You didn't want to.

It unsettled you beyond measure. Everyone figured out you were something to Aerion rather quickly. The only times you were spotted in town you were carrying packages branded "Targaryen" in big black letters.

It left too much to the imagination. And imagination can be a cruel, cruel thing in such a small town.

You stormed out, face red and arms crossed in anger. Whatever assumptions they made about you, about Aerion, what you were to each other, it was all wrong.

Wrong.

He was your boss. You were his employee. And he wasn't a psycho. He was just a man. Impulsive and volatile, yes, but they hadn't seen him like you had.

They hadn't seen the fear burning in his eyes that night. They hadn't heard the heartbreaking plea that melted you into a puddle. They hadn't felt the maddening warmth when he held you like you were the only real thing left in this world.

You had no real plan, no clear thought behind where you were going.

But you kept going, kept putting one in front of the other, because you were terrified of what you'd do if you stopped even for a second.

Before you knew it, you were at the liquor store. The cashier leaned back lazily, passing around a vape between him and Daeron.

Daeron.

He must know something.

Your face lit up, the excitement, the hope, completely overtaking your body. You opened your mouth to speak -

"How's my brother?"

The premature smile on your face evaporated immediately.

"Haven't seen him in ages."

A cloud of smoke puffed out from his lips and hit your face with a harsh call to reality.

"I-I don't know where he is."

Your voice was so weak. Like a school child admitting they broke a rule.

Daeron was absolutely hammered, a thick scent of whiskey and marijuana coating anywhere in his vicinity. He wavered around clumsily, taking another haphazard hit.

"How's that possible? Aren't you his fuckin' keeper or something?"

You rolled your eyes. His comment carried no weight given how fucking out of it he was.

But one thing was clear.

You weren't gonna get any closer to finding Aerion here.

You turned your head to the clerk.

"If you see him, call me."

He gave you a nod and with that you were off again.

You blazed through the city, peering into every store, every alleyway. It was useless, all fucking useless, but you couldn't just sit around in your own guilt.

How could you let him out of your sight?

You called everyone you could think of - your old bosses, Donnel - hoping someone got a sighting, a fleeting glimpse of silver hair passing by.

Nothing.

The only person left to call was Maekar and that wasn't an option without accepting your immediate termination.

You were utterly powerless.

You wandered back to Aerion's apartment with your tail between your legs, every inch of your body filled with utter dread, every corner of your mind filled with terrible thoughts.

Where could he possibly be? What was he doing? How was he taking care of himself? Was he safe?

Your legs trembled with exhaustion as you nearly collapsed on his door.

Apartment number 700. A place you'd secretly come to think of as a fucked up kind of home.

You slid the key into its place as you had every day for weeks.

It was stuck. You took it out and put it back in again, twisting in every direction with frustration.

What the fuck?

You twisted again and again, nothing worked.

What the fuck?

Who changed the lock? And more importantly, who the fuck was inside right now?

You banged both fists, taking out all of the frustration from this cursed day on the wooden door.

What the fuck was happening?

Who was here?

Why?

You needed answers, so you kept banging. You kept banging until your knuckles started bleeding and the bones in your hands felt like jelly.

Then suddenly, a voice.

"Go away!"

Your body froze.

Your heart stopped.

For one terrible second you couldn't breathe.

Then relief hit you so hard your knees nearly gave out.

He was alive.

He was here.

He was okay.

And somehow that realization hurt even more than losing him.

It was him.

Aerion.

____________

You sank to the ground in utter disbelief.

This didn't make sense.

Nothing made sense.

"You broke my one rule, the one fucking rule I gave you and you broke it."

He roared, the fury in his voice pounding through the door.

And he was right. He had told you not to go into his room without permission. While he was sleeping.

And you had.

But what else were you supposed to do?

"You were screaming, Aerion, what did you -"

"I don't care!"

There was something in his voice that scared you more than any amount of rage. Fear. The same fear you had seen the night before.

"You're fired! Just g-go! Get the fu-fuck out of here!"

You placed your hands on the door. You could practically feel him. The feverish uncertainty in his voice, the rapid beat of his heart, the cigarette smoke crawling from under the door.

As if he were in your arms as he had been the night before.

"Aerion, please. Let me in, let me explain. I'll - I'll do anything."

The silence that followed felt a thousand years long and each second passed with unbearable torture.

The door handle twisted -

And there he was, still sick, still mad, with a cigarette between his lips.

His eyes were bloodshot. The sharp edges of his face were glistening with sweat. His dragon tattoo peeked out of the wife beater caging his lean torso; for a second, you imagined it spat fire at you.

Aerion's voice lowered to a dangerous whisper.

"You were never supposed to see me like that."

You looked up at him, still slumped into a mess on the floor, and shook your head.

"It's my job to take care of you. In any state."

He retreated as if your words had wounded him. You couldn't understand why.

"Just your job?"

He slowly walked closer to you till his legs enclosed your peripheral vision. He tilted your chin up with his thumb.

"You said you'd do anything."

He moved his hand, tracing your lips with his finger before dragging your bottom lip down till your mouth was open slightly.

"Stop fucking lying."

He knelt down in front of you, planting a kiss on your open mouth.

It was tender. Impossibly tender.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

The anger and humiliation that you carried through the entire city today, through the pharmacies and liquor stores, through the snickers and unanswered phone calls, finally melted away.

Aerion pulled away first.

His hand remained beneath your chin.

"You looked for me."

It wasn't a question.

You swallowed hard.

"Of course I did."

His jaw tightened.

"Why?"

The answer should have been simple.

Because he was your patient.

Because it was your responsibility.

Because you'd been worried.

The excuses lined up neatly in your head, ready to be spoken.

None of them would come out.

Aerion let out a humorless laugh.

"That's what I thought."

He stood up straight and took another puff of his cigarette admiring the sight of you knelt before him.

"You know what I want."

He delicately ran his fingers through your hair before pulling you into a firm grip.

"Now I need you to say you want it too."

You weren't yourself. The exhaustion, the humiliation, the desire - it all took over your body. You moved to your feet, hands on his chest, desperate to rejoin your lips with his.

Then he pushed you back down.

"No, baby. I like you better on your knees."

You couldn't help how much it turned you on. How much you enjoyed being at his mercy. You looked up at him, not making a move, baiting him into taking you into his control once again.

“Tell me you want it.”

He growled, licking his lips with something beyond desire.

You couldn’t speak. He’d taken everything, your time, your pride, and now your breath.

Instead you snaked your hands up his legs, eyes locked on his, and traced the length of his clothed cock, bulge throbbing out of his black sweatpants, while planting soft kisses from his navel to his waistband.

Aerion grabbed your hair and yanked your head back, causing you to yelp in a hot mix of pain and pleasure.

“I won’t be sweet; I won’t be gentle.”

His words were harsh, but his eyes pleaded in an ocean of violet vulnerability.

“I don’t care. I don’t want sweet or gentle. I - I just want Aerion.”

The smile that followed was the most genuine expression of joy you’d ever seen from him - not a scheming smirk or devilish grin - it was pure. Real. Him.

He caressed your face as he slowly reached into his sweatpants.

"Open up, doll."

And you did. Without question. You wanted to see him again. To taste him. To feel him.

You held your mouth open for a few seconds, sticking your tongue out for him.

Aerion let out a dark laugh, his already hard cock throbbing wildly at the sight of your willingness.

"That's it, honey."

He pulled his cock out of his sweatpants, stroking it in one hand as you stared up at him mouth still open.

He tapped the tip onto tongue, cigarette still hanging between his lips, as you lapped up every small taste of him.

He then slapped it across your face.

"Take it."

Humiliation pooled in your core as heat pooled between your legs. You hated how much you wanted this - how much you needed this.

You opened your mouth wider, eyes begging him to finally shove his cock in your mouth.

Aerion made you wait, teasing you a few more times, delighting in the way your tongue chased his cock, before he finally slid its long, pale length into the heat of your mouth.

He threw his head back with a groan as your lips circled around him.

You ran your tongue along his tip, tracing circles as his breath pulsed through a cloud of cigarette smoke.

He was big. Very big.

You opened your mouth as wide as you could to take him in, all of him -

"That's my girl."

He barely managed the words, his grip on your hair tightening, nails digging into your scalp.

He knocked your head back and forth, back and forth, as he fucked hard into your face. You gagged as his tip drove into the back of your throat the third time.

"Too much cock for you, baby?"

He teased, not relenting his unforgiving pace for one second. Tears were streaming down your face, mascara running everywhere.

He was right; it was too much.

But you weren't going to let him win. Not that easily.

You shook your head and slid your tongue up to the base of his cock.

He choked on a half-moan, half-grunt before letting out a soft chuckle.

"That's my good girl."

His pace quickened, knocking the guilt out of you with every brutal thrust into your mouth. Every choke, every moan, every sound that escaped your lips only invigorated him to the point where he was now using your mouth as his own personal fuck toy.

"Where should I come, baby? On those pretty tits?"

His free arm reached down, brushing your nipple over your t-shirt.

"Or on that pretty face."

His hand trailed up your neck to brush your jaw.

You felt his body tense and his legs start to tremble. He was close. Very close.

"That's not good enough. I want you to taste me. I wanna be in you. Every part of you.”

His words forced a loud moan out of your throat and onto his cock.

With that, he spilled into your mouth, breath hitching with every pump.

You swallowed the salty liquid, licking any of his remaining cum off your lips.

"Fuck, baby. You're fucking nasty for me."

Aerion purred, pulling you onto your feet as you swayed in a cock-fueled daze. He took a drag from his cigarette, holding the smoke into his mouth, before pulling your jaw open and exhaling into yours.

You sucked onto his air like it was the only kind worth breathing, the tobacco haze clouding your lungs, your limbs, your mind.

He ripped your t-shirt off like an animal preparing to claim its prey. He dropped his mouth to your breast, tongue circling around your already hard nipple as your legs trembled from the sensation.

"I'm gonna mark every inch of you. That way everybody knows you’re mine. All mine.”

With his other hand, he put the cigarette out on your collarbone. You let out a scream as the burning sensation took over your whole body, the only relief coming from the cool wetness at your breast.

"Shhhhhh. It's not so bad, baby. Don't you wanna be mine?"

He hummed as he started kissing your other breast.

Aerion pulled you into the apartment, shutting the door with a desperate urgency. His hands moved to your waist, fingers digging into you hard enough to bruise. He quickly unbuttoned your jeans before ripping them off you. The only thing left on you now was your lace underwear.

Aerion took a step back, admiring your bare figure.

He traced the cigarette burn with his finger, proud of his work, before throwing you over his shoulder.

"Aerion, I - "

He landed a smack on your ass as he carried you into his bedroom.

"Not now. I've waited too long for this for you to ruin it with that mouth."

He hauled you onto his bed before positioning himself between your legs, hands possessively clasping around each of your thighs.

"I thought you liked my mouth."

You let out a giggle, eyes moving down to his cock, still unbelievably hard.

"Only when it's full."

He huffed before tearing your underwear to pieces with his teeth. He ran his fingers through your slick folds, eyes rolling back upon feeling how you were dripping for him.

"You're fucking soaking, baby."

His fingers roamed every inch of you before tracing agonizingly slow circles around your clit.

"How long have you wanted this?"

He fastened his pace before sliding a finger into you, your back arching at his touch.

Your eyes closed as you bit down hard on your lip muffling the whimpers escaping you.

“Answer me.”

Aerion whispered into your ear before sliding in a second finger, pushing into you with a delicious rhythm.

“I - I”

You could only squeak out two syllables as your body writhed with pleasure, breaking all your thoughts into pitiful mewls.

Your walls closed in on his fingers as his thumb and fingers drove you to madness, the squelches from your wet pussy filling the room.

He moved faster now, with more precision, as you kicked your legs completely overwhelmed with pleasure.

“Tell me!”

He growled into your neck before placing hot, messy kisses along your jaw.

You came hard around his fingers, walls clamping shut as your mind went blank with white, hot flashes of pleasure.

“Too long!”

You screamed as you buried your head into his shoulder.

“Since - since the day we met.”

The embarrassment settled as you came down from your high.

You crawled away from him on the bed, gaze deliberately avoiding his, trying to take away from the weight of the words that just escaped you.

Aerion threw his pants and boxers to the side, not hesitating for a beat, before pouncing on top of you. He wrapped your legs around his, overpowering your instinct to keep them closed.

He leaned in close as he breathed into your ear.

“That’s not long enough.”

You didn’t have time to think about what he meant before he aligned himself with your entrance, tip slipping along your slick folds.

He bit down on your earlobe as he pushed into you, stopping halfway, as your body convulsed around him.

"Aerion!"

You begged for him to go further, to fill you completely. But his name wasn't enough.

"What is it, honey?"

He smiled into your neck teasing you, waiting for you to beg till he was properly satisfied.

"Do you want something?"

You squirmed around him bucking your hips up to his, but he steadied you with the unyielding press of his fingertips.

"Y-yes."

You couldn't breathe, the need climbing from your cunt till penetrated your throat.

"Then be my good little slut and ask for it."

The vulgarity of his words was immediately softened by the soft kiss he placed on your forehead - his mix of cruelty and sweetness leaving you a soaking mess beneath him.

"I-I'm your good little slut. And - and I want you, all of you inside of me, Aerion."

He drove into you with full force, letting out an animal groan as you said his name.

You lifted your torso to meet his as he fucked you over and over. However close you were, arms wrapped around each other, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist - it wasn't close enough.

It never was.

Your lips brushed against each other with each of his thrusts, eyes locked on each other as you both pursued your orgasms with the fury of two people who longed for this.

Who yearned for it.

"That's my - hah - that's my girl."

Aerion breathed as his tongue licked your upper lip.

"You're my girl."

The vulnerability in his voice contradicted the punishing force with which his cock plunged into your dripping cunt. The same vulnerability he'd shown last night. When he asked you to stay.

He moved his hand from your neck to your clit, tracing the outline of your breast along his way.

This was wrong. It was all wrong. He was your boss and worse than that - he was Aerion.

But there was nothing you could do. You were utterly powerless to his words, his touch, everything that he was.

You moaned into his mouth and he picked up the pace of his thrusts and the maddening circles he brushed onto your cunt.

You were close. He was too, you could feel the way his breath faltered on your skin.

"Cum for me. Cum for me, baby."

You crashed into each other as he spilled into you, your head slumped over his shoulder while he rested his face against your neck.

You stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, completely melted into each other. Every breath, every tremor, every bead of sweat locked you both together.

He spoke first. Barely even a whisper as he remained glued to your body.

"Don't leave."

His sincerity nearly brought tears to your eyes.

You parted from him, a wet sound filling your ears as you lifted your cunt off his cock. You were dripping with his cum, sticky with his sweat.

"Aerion, where would I go?"

You smiled at him, but he avoided your gaze. Something deeper, darker stirring beneath him.

"Ever."

His strength returned to his voice as he wiped the mess of mascara splattered across your cheek.

"Don't ever leave me."

The finality in his voice sent a shiver up your spine.

But you'd known. For a long time. No matter how much you denied it.

You knew you were his.

And after tonight, after this, whatever the hell this was, you had to accept it.

Even when you weren't ready.

"Can I have one of those?"

You asked sweetly pointing to the pack of cigarettes lying on his nightstand.

He raised his eyebrows with surprise.

"I thought you were a good little nurse."

"You've, um, influenced me over these past few weeks."

He smiled gently as he nodded his head and plunged into the red silk sheets.

You grabbed a cigarette and his lighter, black with a red dragon etched in metal, typical Aerion, as you slipped on one of his bathrobes and headed towards the balcony.

You just needed a minute. To sit. To process.

This wasn't just sex. Not to you.

You slipped out the door and slumped down against the window, looking down on the city laid out perfectly in front of you.

You placed the cigarette into your lips and flicked the lighter as thoughts swam rampant in your head.

Your old life was over.

Whatever there was before Aerion, he'd burnt it to ash with fire, with cruelty, with passion.

You turned to the window observing your reflection. You traced the cigarette burn with your finger, ran your eyes over the hickeys and bruises on your neck before looking down at your body.

Every inch was nearly purple.

You were his. Undeniably his.

And the most fucked-up part was that you didn't mind.

In fact, you loved it.

You - you loved him.

It was stupid, fucking crazy, to love a man that volatile, that cruel.

His voice pierced like thunder, his touch burnt like fire, but you couldn't escape the truth anymore - it felt like home.

The tears began falling before you even realized.

You took a puff of your cigarette, desperate to find some relief, any relief from the brutal reality you now finally had the guts to face.

You loved Aerion.

You loved him senselessly.

___________

Aerion swiped away his silk sheets and headed towards the window.

He would never tell a soul, but he loved seeing her like this.

When she thought no one was watching.

But he was.

The way she twiddled her thumbs when she was nervous, the way she bit her lip when she was deep in thought.

He couldn't help it - in fact he actively fought against it - but seeing her soothed him.

Knowing she was safe. Knowing she was with him.

He stepped up to the window like a shadow looming over her looking for one of the quiet smiles she wore when she enjoyed something she wasn't supposed to.

But something was wrong.

Very wrong.

He took another step, painfully eager to see what was happening.

He watched as a tear slowly rolled down her perfect face.

And then another.

She was crying.

Why was she crying?

She'd wanted this.

Hadn't she?

She came looking for him.

She begged him not to send her away.

She said she'd do anything.

So why was she crying?

Aerion's head spun wildly as he moved back to the bed, brushing his hair back with immeasurable frustration.

He paced back and forth as the thoughts spilled into him like a poison.

Of course this would happen. Of course this was too good to be true.

There were people in his life that cared for him, his father, his older brother.

But no one in the way that she did.

No one since - his mother.

And now he ruined it. Just like he ruined everything else in his life.

He stared at the floor, at the bed, at the balcony.

Anywhere but her.

Because every time he looked up there was another tear.

Aerion drove his fist into the wall with equal amounts of self-loathing and denial.

He tried to be good for her, tried to be gentle.

But he couldn't spend a lifetime concealing his true nature and now she'd seen him. All of him. The worst of him.

Each one of her tears confirmed his suspicions further and further.

She now saw him as everyone else did.

A monster.

Fine. Fucking fine. If she thought him a monster, he'd be the most terrible monster she'd ever seen.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: whew this one took a little longer than the others BUT, we finally got some proper smut in here ayyyy. As always, please let me know your thoughts/if you liked it/what you wanna see. I'm super receptive to y'all and so so appreciative of all the support. I really hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you bbs for everything. MWAH!

Dividers by @pepsipoet

⋆｡°✩ taglist ✩°｡⋆ (comment if you would like to join) : @sand-sucks , @ethel-angel , @ichiban94 , @annajanewood , @machy-march , @mimrntgx , @piya-re , @majuliaaaaaaakkkkkkkkkkkk , @harryspimpdaddy-blog , @sahvlren, @grangersjeanjournal , @uixhzzzi , @snorklingfae , @gasstationwishes

hazemsuhail

If this page suddenly goes silent one day, know that my brother Samer didn’t make it. I will never forget those who saw him suffering from severe bombing injuries, lacking his vital medications, yet chose silence and kept scrolling.

hazemsuhail

I feel completely shattered and deeply ashamed begging strangers for help every single day. This endless nightmare has stripped us of everything, forcing me to sacrifice even my own dignity just to keep my brother and my family alive.

hazemsuhail

I want nothing from this world except to see Samer healthy and free of pain, and to save my family from this slow death. Please donate so we can afford his essential psychiatric and medical treatments before it’s too late.

Please Please donate GoFundMe

hazemsuhail

I swear these donations are our only way out. Please keep supporting us to save my brother Samer. 🙏

rovensher

prince valarr for a friend

kosmogrl

june will be good june will be good june will be good june will be good june will be good june will be good june will be good june will be good june will be good june will be

milkandmoss

₊✩‧౨ৎ₊˚ part ten

an akotsk fanfic

sparklemuffin ₊✩‧౨ৎ₊˚ modern!au — targaryen family x reader; starring aerion, valarr, daeron (and you!!) female!reader (she/her pronouns)

content warnings: minor swearing!!! and a nonconsensual kiss!

series masterlist | prev part | next part

Dunk is sitting red-faced and red-eyed on your couch. Syrax perched on his knee, he cups a bowl that is steaming, and he blows on it softly, before slurping a few noodles into his mouth.

It’s two-minute noodle Tuesday, so you and Dunk sit on opposite ends of your couch, staring at the screen currently playing a space movie you both really, really enjoy. You’re both trying hard not to cry as the music envelops the both of you.

He’s currently failing at that.

maidragoste

The Witch and the Storm

Aerion Targaryen x Fossoway!Reader

Fossoway!Reader Universe

I'm back with more Dad Aerion. I realized I always write him with Baela or Aerea, so it was Viserra's turn <3

If you have more ideas for this universe or if you want to share your thoughts, my inbox is always open 🤗

As I always say, if you liked it, please don't hesitate to like, comment, and reblog. Comments really motivate me and make me happy 🥰🥰💖

And if you're interested, my commissions are still open, or you can also support me with a Ko-fi; that would be a huge help too 🥰🤗

Disclaimer: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

I hope you all enjoy it!

Viserra Targaryen isn't afraid of storms.

At least she wasn't before that fool of Baela told her that story about a witch who took advantage of stormy nights to hunt down young girls and feed on their youth. Viserra had been suspicious of her sister's story, thinking she was just trying to scare her, but then Aunt Daella told her it was true and that when she was little, she had seen the witch take the washerwoman's daughter. From then on, Viserra couldn't stop thinking about the witch.

That's why she couldn't sleep. She doesn't know how her nanny managed to fall asleep with all the lightning and the loud sound of the rain. Viserra couldn't stay with her; her nanny wouldn't be able to protect her when the witch came. She had to go with her father. So she ended up getting out of bed. She didn't even bother looking for a robe to keep warm and hurriedly put on her shoes before leaving the nursery.

She wanted to run to your chambers, but she knew that if she made too much noise, people would discover her, and she didn't want Baela to find out. Her sister would make fun of her if she knew she was so scared that she wanted to sleep with her parents. So she walked as fast as she could, trying to ignore the cold she felt and how nervous the thunder made her. When she finally saw the door, she hurried inside.

Your chambers held a lit candle, slowly melting, and you kept the fire burning to keep the room warm. Viserra saw you and Aerion, your legs intertwined, embraced. Her father's face looked peaceful as he slept on your chest.

"Kepa," she called, starting to climb onto the bed, and pouted when she only got a grunt in response. "Kepa," she said this time louder, shaking his shoulder. Another grunt, and Viserra saw him seem to cling to you even tighter. "Kepa," she shook him more.

“What?” he says reluctantly, opening his eyes. His annoyed expression softens when he sees his daughter’s gaze. “What’s wrong?” he asks in a gentler voice as he sits up in bed.

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