red cupid strings v
⌞sugar daddy! maekar targaryen head canons - narrative ⌝
⌞tags⌝ - 18+!, mdni!, sugardaddy!maekar x collegestudent!reader, age gap!relationship, heavy angst!, sweet fluff!, longing!, familydrama!, smut!, pinv!, stalking if you squint!, devotion!, timeskip!
𖤝 r.c.s 𖤝 r.c.s ii 𖤝 r.c.s iii 𖤝 r.c.s iv
⌌⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰⌍
- red oozes from within the lid of the metal tin of waste, hours bleeding further into the spiral to not the dread of what’s to come, neither the anticipation to a certain’s obdurate aim of possessing what is beyond one’s wishing— but the raw trepidation as to what is looming in near coming.
the windows remained opened despite the gloomy weather almost mocking the storm that is inside of you in turmoil; wrapped in the same cordial blanket by the sofa in mere state of distance in mind— chest as heavy as the pitting patters of the rain.
it has been exactly seventeen hours since the red of quietus arrived to your holding, sixteen since you last spoke with whom mattered most, fifteen of absolute descend into the inevitable hebetude in form and forever it seems to this unfortunate chronology of never having what you’ve considered at least at an arm’s reach once.
perhaps attainable, so to speak.
you could feel his arms around you in memory, breathe the remnants of his scent from the fabric surrounding you in little aid and taste not of his lips but the saccharine essence to each syllable maekar’s whisper to you of ‘i love you.’
it’s unfair— it’s so unfair, you repeat with each descend of hot sentiment from your eyes while cursing the gods from above for being utterly cruel to not just you, not just to the man you love but to what both could have been.
perhaps it’s an easy choice, for most it would most likely be apparent in choosing the future that is to come in self-proclaimed glory through the hardship endured— biting the fruit of labor. yet for you, no other sweetness compare to the honesty of maekar’s devotion.
but you were merely a young woman of morals after all; inner battle of common heart and mind you’ve once dismissed as never in falling situation to, has now found it’s way in a rather vicious ultimatum.
and so a choice is made despite the sobs of pleading to those supposed just above who listened, the screen of your cell lit in typing not in response to maekar but to sir reynold:
‘could you bring me boxes, please sir reynold. loads.’
‘and do not say a word to maekar. thank you.’
- arms of the clock hanging in display from your bedroom wall reads six thirty-eight in the early evening from the day that followed your dilemma.
you’ve spent the entire day slowly filling the boxes with your belongings; sir reynold commanded to seal his lips in letting slip anything to who has been consistent in growing fret about you.
‘doll?’
‘talk to me, please. what’s going on?’
‘good night, babydoll. speak soon, okay?’
‘good morning, heading to the conference meeting with the investors now. grabbing lunch with the franchise department head by noon. did you eat?’
‘you’re worrying me, my girl.’
‘i miss you. talk to me please.’
‘it’s been two days, doll. your location isn't on either.’
‘sir reynold said you’re home, did i do something wrong?’
‘no text, no call and not even reading them? your pictures aren't enough to suffice me from this suffering, doll.’
‘babydoll?’
‘i love you. don’t forget that.’
all sent within the hours of practiced restraint, one single message captures your beating heart in panic.
‘times up, pretty girl. meet me in the address by seven thirty. or don’t, it would be a pleasure to post how soiled you are.’
and a pin to an exclusive bar within the inner parts of the city most had named a playground for the rich.
breathing out a wavered sigh, you swallowed each tremble in change of a decent pair of jeans and a cardigan— signalling sir reynold for a drive that's all too quiet and all too telling of the quagmire you’re subjected to.
the setting of the sun in rest only adds onto the intimidating lights to the entrance of the location, glancing back to the front with a quiet demand.
“please wait for me here. i will not be long..”
“yes ma’am.”
“..not a word to maekar, as well. please.”
“understood.”
to that, feet in usual pair of doll shoes have stepped into the blaring red door where the bouncer and security recognizes you with ease— instantly letting you past with a respectful nod, nodding to a particular booth that you walk towards.
- silver hair brushed back in tame but tousled from the humidity, lips curled into a baleful smirk and clothed in black leather— aerion orders his companions away with a single dismissive wave, nodding beside him for you to sit.
a respectable distance was placed, hands gripping the handle of your bag and the form of your cell— he scoffs and decides to move himself nearer, perhaps much too nearer where every boundary is jeopardized. gaze down to your lap, aerion tilts his head with the same look as before; taking in every tremble of your chin from evident fear that he breathes in like life— so intoxicated to what there is of you.
fingers twirling the strand by your cheek, the silver-haired young man who happened to be the son of who weighed heavy in your heart leans in close while you attempt to move away from the repulse of a touch non other than maekar’s— aerion’s other arm already snaked by your shoulders.
“i need time.. please.”
“time that you don’t have, unfortunately. have i not given you an ample amount already?”
“you have.. and i’ve made my decision.”
“have you?”
“..just please. i need more time— just a week. just one more week.”
“to what?”
to carve in feeling each stroke of affection maekar blesses you with, to memorize the very line of his features traced by the pads of your fingertip in safekeeping, to indulge in complete solipsism the glimpse of a love well deserved but all in the while purloined from having in complete.
“..to deal with this. please..”
the tears further in falling the second his hand raise up your thigh and envelop your nape with a tight hold— hair blowing from his breath while you held yours in as much as the sobs threatening to spill.
“.. you fuck me over in any way.. and i swear to gods you’re done for, understood?”
a nod, court and swift with closed crying eyes. aerion revels to the emitted show of distress and obeisance, lips to the slope of your neck where gritted teeth is warranted as expression in return.
the second he lets go, you were moving away, but all once more tugged by the wrist in facing with spilled whimper and glossed irises.
“five days. that’s all you get before you’re mine.”
feet already in search of the exit, you slipped past people and climbed the backseat of the waiting car still in rimmed tears. sobbing completely now that you felt an ounce of safety, sir reynold merely brushed away with a ‘i’m fine.. just drive me home please.’
- away for long, the sojourn felt much longer than a certain amount of days for maekar who hurriedly disposed of his items at home before anxiously driven to who mattered most at the very moment.
finding you curled in resemblance of a new born cat, he coos quite instantly onto the manner you’re wrapped in a blanket by the sofa with an open window— slumber currently holding you hostage away from him in reality.
maekar kneels before you with a heart plenty in sentiment of longing; craves to have those pretty eyes set on him with excitement he wishes to capture yet selfless enough to allow rest. instead, he takes you into his arms and walk both to the long couch before breathing in deeply the scent of his beloved— you.
it isn't long before he’s taken as well: breathing at ease, heart warm, and mind at rest— evidently, the man who adores your being does not wait for long, much too impatient for he quickly surrenders in dreaming state where he prays to reunite with you.
- soft with sleep but much mellower from the love emitted with no limit; the light of the early morning is witness to the attempt in withholding the very little restraint left into glimmering tears coating each of your eye while admiring wordlessly the man who held you even in sleep.
it’s heavy, not the longing but the ache of knowing how soon it would all be taken away when the time arrives at last in demand of crossing the rubicon. but for now at least, at this very hour of the new day— maekar is yours, and you were his.
a hand to caress his cheek, a tear slips past without permission; unaware of it’s existence, maekar blinks away the remnants of rest and instantly smiles upon seeing you dote him with affection craved in a long while.
“good morning, my love.. why the tears?” uttered past his lips in benign, you merely stared back with a look of unceasing devotion— whispering in return.
“i love you.”
a kiss to follow, melting in complete paralleling the feeling of simply being with him. maekar completed you, the same way you did him: pure, sinless, true and honest. in manners most would regard as spurious for how little time existed in creation of the profound connection in between beating flesh and morphing souls— yet for you and for maekar, it mattered little and it mattered not at all.
it’s innocent the kiss, sweet and almost childlike from the forming smiles after paired in gazes of reciprocated perception. lips tingling and head buzzing with endorphins, he breaks the silence first:
“did you miss me?’’
“i always do..”
the quickness of your response in tone of a repressed misery veiled by equanimity brings forward a wave of soothing fervor to his heart— still so taken even after the repetition from before.
“you’re all i thought about in my trip..”
“really?”
“even after you worried me. don’t do that again, hm?”
“i'm sorry.”
“i don’t know what to do with myself without you.”
it nearly triggered you to sob. his words reminding you of the ticking time left, of the impending ruin in waiting— all inhaled sharply in constrained tongue, a kiss is placed in response. a wistful prayer the man you adored does not question the behavior of a woman already longing for who she held in her arms still.
how cruel aerion— his own son, while he remained furtive of the truth.
- five whole days remained, and five whole days you took solipsistically in a state of abnegation that it would all slip past your fingers like water returning to sea after a pleasant wave.
a reality of cunctation one subjects themself in denial in order to feel even a slightest sense of normalcy— but you were far too aware of how little time lingered in ticking checkered flag. in the while, you made do what you would carry in memory when the race against the other sharp end of the blade concludes your surrender.
the mornings a ritual of brief existence: awake hours before maekar who slept in your arms so unaware to how you carved each feature of his in mind for later. finger tracing the slope of his nose, thumb gentle against his shut eyes and lips pressed in genial pecks that awakens him from dreaming.
and consistent like the man he was:
“good morning, babydoll.”
“hello, my maekar..”
those short hours of the early sun and sublime intimacy of affection follows the route of skin left with bruises of love in their awake like flowers blooming in spring— sweat like the rain for bringing and hands to touch in admiration of what belonged to one another wholly.
your eyes are glossed, lips parted and swollen as maekar pulls yet another high from the flesh within that surrounds him equally in shared pleasure during the act of union. his thrusts slowing just enough to pull you close, skin to skin, bare and raw to kiss and dote while you pant whines of losing stability in mind.
“i know.. i know, doll. i'm here, i am— just hold me.”
and you’d whine even more, melting into his embrace— maekar smiles to himself at how trusting you were, to how faith binds the both of you in utter amour that he proceeds as rush to have you more, to give himself to you just as much.
legs spread with him in between from above, thrusting in a pattern of well-knowing routine with the end of ensured glory for both; he continues to kiss you in every moan and every whimper you make— his back littered with your scratches and neck mirroring in forming blues and hues of lilacs like his eyes. hair tousled all over from movements.
“m-maekar! ‘m so close— please, it’s too muchh!” you’d whine, head shaking as you lose yourself in spirals of overwhelming satisfaction.
he’d kiss the tears away much like the mewling; fucking his throbbing cock into your warm wet cunt a little more rougher like he knew you liked.
“but you can take it, can’t you? you’re a good girl for me, right?”
oh how easy he steers you back into the proper headspace is dizzying, head nodding along with each slam of his hips against your softer ones— maekar smirks at the look in those pretty eyes staring up at him.
and he’d continue to fuck himself into your needy cunt in every position despite both echoing the room with pantings of worn and moans of ecstasy: disregarding the early hours turning into late afternoon.
those five afternoons were bliss for you.. and for him as well. in fact, the seconds spent in laughter over easy conversations varying lunch options that you ceaselessly reminded him were ridiculously overpriced to the sentimental memoirs of tasteful bondings nearly aided you far from the pressing pressure eating away in cached hunger in your mind— time is limited. time was scarce.
you shook away the reminder, allowing maekar to wrap his arms around you as the makeup brush applied in stroke the color of your concealer. smiling at him at the reflection, his lips kissing your shoulder and your nape before he settles by the slope with a charming smile.
“almost ready?”
“just a few more steps..”
“beautiful to me. always.”
evenings were much fluent in the language of fond with the sun setting west; tongues speaking of shared sentiment while eyes held the gaze of profound frisson in reflected sense of belonging to one another. you relished each touch, memorized his breathing pattern and stored away in your memories the feeling of him and him in every sense that mattered— in every regard that was sufficient in burying the gnawing grim that neared each day.
you would make love to him; have maekar deep inside of you in an almost worship that he mistakes as carnal need, yet reciprocates all acquiescent.
then you’d invite him for a bath: both so eager to touch without the lens of lust, just tenderness at each glide with soap and warm waters.
after, the tv to your living room is lit; a tub of ice cream and nearly burnt microwave cake is indulged while watching a movie of preference— which always end with your choosing because maekar allegedly has questionable taste in film.
you’d sneak pictures of him, and he would of you. an unknowing habit grown over the days that would seem like a blessing in disguise once the sand in the hourglass commences the end.
and when fatigue overcomes both physical bodies, arms like green growing vines of awaiting fruition for summer wraps each other in hold— content with staring at each other in a dim glow of city lights below, chest feeling paralleled anchor of revery that leads to easy sleep.
for maekar, at least.
- the sun rises again like always; consistent, continuous, ceaseless, promised and every synonym that may be in existence to what is proven to be true. but were you?
you seemed like a distant memory, a dream perhaps more suiting— a ghost, phantom and passing for he wakes the very morning with an empty bed. gone of you, cold without your warmth and empty with solely the wrinkles of your side in proof that you were real by the sixth day.
a countdown your lover had not been made aware of. blinded for his own sake.
maekar does not worry, not instantly that is— pitying at how naive, to how ingenious he was in assuming normalcy was ever truly an option at the complexity that is of you and him.
he rises after the second calling, eyes soft with sleep and hair all tousled. so unaware of the wick burning at it’s last ends— gaze landing at the folded paper placed in all it’s form to read. smiling at the thought of innocence, just for his heart to plummet in shattered pieces of betrayal and woe.
‘i did not wish to part ways, neither has it ever been a thought in my head that is full of you— of us and what we were. you’ve admired me plenty for my ambitions, i could only hope you continue to do so despite it being the cause of my leave. i have so much to say, yet was granted very little time to. so instead, i held it all within hopes of granting you the kindness i was not by your own blood, by your own son. aerion had been considerate in the least, an entire near week of extension spent through acts of ever-lasting love i shall carry in my heart that i could barely call mine for it beats of you and for you. maekar, i wish you could find it within yourself to forgive me for my lack of fight. i am scared, you see.. not of what aerion would do, but to whom i would be if i stayed.
an apology wouldn’t sufficed for what i’ve done, this i know. but, i wish to tell you once more even as i write this with you beside me in bed with your arm by my waist in slumber that.. you were everything to me. permanently for nothing about you was temporary. eternally carved with the scar of having you even for a short while. from the moment i allowed myself to you, the first kiss we shared, the affection you’ve given although out this passed half-year will all be cherished to no end. selfishly, i confess that i pray that i loved you in ways dyanna has not. in ways where you’ll remember me— even in abhor. it matters little to what regard.. as long as i bare for myself a place in your mind or your heart.
i love you yesterday, today, right now, tomorrow, the days that will come and the years that is inevitable. i love you, i’m certain of it— even as i live my life in quiet now, you will be who breathes life into me. my maekar, i wish we had more time.’
beside a usb with a single file– an audio depicting the quagmire his own son had gutted you with. recorded every word that aerion slurred with malintention the night you met him in the club. smart girl you are, yet maekar wishes you were brave instead.
- gone and void were his eyes, lips dry like his throat rough at the liquor he downs. maekar is lost in the spiralling dilemma of losing you; his office a witness to this new of him all within the same rise of the sun.
he does not knock, no— aerion remains arrogant and oblivious that he’s caused a split to his father’s soul. all due to greed and lusting after what he knew was out of reach, what belonged to someone else what what should have stayed as far admiration. he was anything but the latter— antonyms of his father, aerion scoffs at the state he sees maekar.
the glass of swirled dark liquor is set calmly, odd and bizarre for the turmoil clawing away deep within in scratches maekar is unsure of healing how.
“i have done everything i could to you– for you, have i not?”
confusion arrives quick in etching into expression, the younger gazing at his father in lost like his tone of question.
“what are you talking about—”
“have i not?” maekar cuts, eyes blank but cutting that aerion is rended further in fret.
the same glass is thrown towards in his direction, missing by an inch before he objects with a scowl.
“if this is about that fucking bit—”
collar fisted with his back slammed against the wall, maekar’s tall height towers over aerion whose eyes were wide and breathing stuttered from fright. only then it settles on slowly what calamity he’s done.
“you are my demise. my fucking ruin.”
“father—”
“you are everything i had turned a blind eye to.”
“father pleas—”
books placed in shelves rattle, but the picture frame of him and his father break apart in glass after he’s slammed once more by force. he watches how maekar turns his back— almost as if seeing him was punishment, almost as if his own father was repulsed by him.
“you have a day to pack everything you can.”
“w-what?”
“i'm sending you to the north and you’re to stay there until i say so.”
“dad please don’t do this—”
“go.. before i forget you’re my own blood.”
it is that very moment, the very second that it settles into aerion’s bones, the tragedy he’s inflicted for both himself and for maekar whose heart warps in immeasurable sorrow that is beyond comprehension for someone as shallow as he was.
- to say maekar surrendered at a mere letter of adieu is to renounce the immense effort exercised in finding you within the vast of the planet. nothing but grief for the woman who once he had the privilege of everything.
weeks spent in texting and in calling the number that no longer exists in possession:
‘doll, please.’
‘talk to me. i miss you, i always do.’
‘you’re everything to me, my love.’
‘come back to me. please.’
months of incessant searching for even a glimpse or a shadow of who carried his heart entirely in full— even if it beats slower each day he was stripped of you. it would be a lie to say that he was patient, for he was anything but the latter.
his group of private investigators knew, the employees in the company all silently questioning and the targaryens verbal of their concern— through it all, maekar remained steadfast in his search.
a year and two months, two weeks and three days until aspiration returns. the folder of captured photographs was placed upon his desk at exactly nine fifty-seven in the morning; the very hour where maekar is blessed with the sight of his obdurate but still so electrifying beloved— you.
he planned to seek the very location you frequented: by the south-west, in oldtown to be exact. but sir reynold had reminded him once more of your elusive behavior and it’s possible reasons. a sharp and bitter pill a man who longed for nothing but the feel of his lover once more— patience may do him well, a mantra that echoes the domes of his heart along with your name.
- so despite the hebetude he carries in weighed shoulders and even more doleful heart, maekar respected the unannounced boundaries and wish for a quiet life that you now lived.
he endured every longing at each second spent in avoiding the same restaurants you’ve both had a meal in. he endured each yearning for the day he would be granted access back into your life, even if it now sounded as a mere ambition and a prayer for the seven above. he endured the love that remained along with the anguish for the need of contentment in watching from afar. and most of all, maekar endured the vacillating misery that kept him both away from you yet all so close in metaphor.
all within those four years and a half that passed now; he has gone to the whole hog, in the name of obeying the silent ask from you in that letter he keeps in his wallet beside your picture.
maekar knows your new address, the hospital you interned for and now worked in as a diagnostician after graduating, the café you get your morning caffeine from, the grocery store you visit once a week, the vintage store that you pass by before grabbing lunch with your old friend sasha and he knows the very park you lose your time in reading books by the grass beneath an old oak tree during weekends.
his office, his study and his bedside table all carry a framed picture of you in surface; recent candid ones sent to him by his private investigator. but his favorite remained the same, even after all these years: his own candid photo of you in bed with a bare face beneath the blanket sleeping— waiting for him to come home. it’s quite comical, how the scenarios have changed for it was him now that awaits for your return. wallpaper permanently of you, all the same with his laptop and all the electronic device he owned. stares into the old photos and videos of you together while holding the velvet box containing an engagement ring he’s owned a week before you had taken leave for good.
- you knew, it was quite difficult not to when the signs appear themselves in full glory– shameless but willingly persistent in displaying only the love that continued to exist even in abrupt.
you first received flowers at your new apartment, that alone should have been a sign even when no note was given by the delivery man; only nodding to you with a proof of receiving to sign. a rather familiar situation you recalled.
they were consistent: your first day as an officially licensed diagnostician, your first successful case, finishing an entire book, your birthday, celebratory days of lovers and even in mundane days where one wouldn't expect them.
then the signs were much more apparent: delivery of pastries to your department in the hospital with nothing but a note of ‘still like sweets, doc?’, landlord laughing when you apologized for being a day late in rent before following with ‘you’re paid for the rest of the year, i received the cheque yesterday, young lady.’ and the car you were eyeing and currently saving up for suddenly delivered with a fully paid note and insurance— keys handed by the sales associate with a smile.
eyes landing onto a familiar face, your lips form a small smile in acknowledgement to sir reynold who stood at the other end of the street; almost guarding, almost like before. oh the lengths maekar would go through in order to remind you that his love remained despite the years, despite it all.
it keeps you up one late evening after a harrowing shift at the hospital, fresh out of the shower and now abed in pyjamas. the window slightly open for a breeze that you welcomed with a hum, allowing it to lull you in the much needed rest– but not before your fingers grasp in hold the heart shape locket by your chest in pendant of the necklace containing a photo of who mattered still, despite these years and despite it all.
perhaps when time is right and life is kind, paths are crossed once more in given blessing of trying again without the fear of no longer anything. free to love, free to devote and free to belong.
but for now, patience shall echo in two minds and amour shall remain in two hearts until it morphs once again in red strings from the same thread.
fin.
⌎⊰⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊱⌏
⌞a/n⌝ - hi.. yes, i knowwww i know! but as doll wrote, i hope you all find it within yourselves to forgive me :( before i go in a rant, a thank you is warranted for the patience you've all shown me despite my current m.i.a status every now and then due to finals. thank you, truly. for being patient, for being kind and for loving this series as much as i did. they are so dear to me and its quite sad to part ways. but! before i end this, i'd like to say why it took so long to post– this plot wasn't the original ending, it was much more simpler and less angst.. more happy but who am i without anguish as my muse? if you'd like to know the original ending.. let me know! with all the kissesss, lily! 🦢