#failed matrimonies

[truethes]

when it comes to cooking my muses are either, good enough chefs that they could probably run a resturaunt really well or can / has set the kitchen on fire to create something that perhaps is not safely consumable. 

#❛ ♡ › jupiter : 𝐨𝐨𝐜. #COMING FROM A MEDIOCRE COOK... .its hillarious to me #they cant make ok meals they either give it their all or fail #or give it their all and then fail #or think theyre going to fail and then it looks so much decent ... #cooking threads are a cute underappreciated matrimony really #im gonna run upstairs now probably and get to some outstanding ims ... so hopefully soon we should be able to do some stuff before the #holiday comes around

[cursedcola]

Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia( pt.1 Here!)(pt.2) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. Also, I went overboard. So much that I exceeded the character limit and need to post Diasomnia in 2 parts. I have favorites I guess :/

Malleus experienced more firsts over the course of three years than the duration of his life. His first board game session, his first group trip with peers, his first taste of carnival food, his first sleepover, his first true friend - so, so many firsts. All a byproduct of one person walking into his life and taking a genuine interest in him.

You were the first houseguest he personally invited over to Diasomnia. Not for a tour, not for business, not on behalf of another - no. You were Malleus' houseguest, there to visit Malleus and spend time with Malleus. The snacks prepared were for you both to share. The lounge seating reserved for your company. His first time hosting for fun.

You were the first person he ever got a present for outside of his family. How quick your birthday had come, and how startled he became to find he cared. You were older. Growing so quick and changing at an alarming pace. He could see it in your features and mannerisms. Malleus knew that humans aged at a much faster rate than fae. Silver sprouted like a beanstalk. Yet you were blossoming like a flower in spring. How long until you'd wither?

Malleus cared. Not out of curiosity, but something deeper. Malleus did not want a servant to pick your gift, not even his closest companions. He desired to adhere to human custom and do the task himself. He did not trust another to pick something meaningful and to your preference.

You were the first to make him laugh. Your humor being like none he had heard before. Others tend to correct themselves in Malleus' presence, or try to cater to 'his' taste. Even those closest to him, often sharing a joke that flies over his head without any explanation. You did no such thing. Your humor was curious, and perhaps a bit crude. The jokes did fail to land with him, but he still found them funny regardless.

You were the first to make him yearn. Malleus had felt loneliness before. He's been bound in it's searing clutches and taunted. Yet his rooted longing never compelled him to change. He never felt jealous. Until your smile became another's and he felt a hot pit in his stomach. One different than his fiery magic.

You were his first desire.

Malleus fumbled and panicked. He had finally found a friend, yet he wanted more. The realization striking him deep. The first want he had no guarantee of obtaining. Yet his need for you was strong. He could not lose you. Malleus begun to value your presence. Your joy. The new life you breathed into him. He held it as dear as his family. You became his fondest treasure.

Malleus needed to ensure that you would never be taken from him. That you would never change.

You were also his first failure. On the dawn of your second year and his graduation, Malleus proposed. He had forgone all customs and jumped straight to marriage. Love to the fae was a lifetime bond. No power could chain you to him stronger than matrimony. Which is why he demanded your presence in the gardens after the ending ceremony. He decorated according to your tastes, with colorful lanterns and firefly lights strewn across the plants.

He saw the hope in your eyes. The way they sparkled with affection and pride bloomed knowing that he was the cause.

“Malleus….It’s so beautiful. Did you prepare this just for me?” You ask, clutching your hands to your chest. He smiles, reaching into his breast pocket and pulling out a black velvet box in the shape of a rose.

“I’m happy to see you like it; however, I hope this offering pleases you more”

Malleus opens the box to reveal a ring. Your eyes widen owlishly and he interprets it as a good sign. Until you step back.

“Oh Malleus….I can’t accept this. We aren’t even dating!” You deny his unspoken proposal with a shaken tone Malleus’ is unfamiliar with. Not from you.

“Why not? I love you. Is that not enough? Do you not love me?”

He fails to understand why you declined. He spent countless hours studying human customs and expression. No. Studying you. He was confident you returned his affections. So why? Why not leave this place and join him?

You explain to him that you’re incapable of marrying someone you haven’t spent time with romantically. That you do care about him. That you liked him and did feel for him. That you could love him, but not so suddenly. You have friends at NRC and didn’t want to leave. Not to mention how him marrying a human, especially with no warning, would cause so many political problems.

Of course he had already taken all this into consideration. He didn’t care about all that, yet bit his tongue from speaking his mind. Another first for Malleus.

“What if I abide by your terms? Would you allow me to court you properly?” He cuts into your sea of reasons not to be together. They weren’t his concern. Only you.

This gets you. He clearly wasn’t listening. Love blinded the average person, and Malleus’ heart bled. You consider his offer, and agree to his courtship. It would be difficult to maintain considering your distance and his status. Yet they were fickle matters to Malleus.

You were his first failure, yet he didn’t mind. There was no true victory without a bit of labor.

The change that he so feared, it became something Malleus adored. Every time he would whisk you away from NRC, or return for a visit - you were different. You had a new story to share, or had changed your appearance. At first he began to panic once again at how quickly you seemed to evolve without him.

And one day he realized that you would keep changing. He’d see a new you forever. All these new versions. A constant spark and longing that made him realize how precious each one was. They would come whether he bid them to or not - so he had to cherish them. Every version of you was one he loved and lost. Yet the fact that another would emerge kept his heart complacent.

You were his first kiss on a dewy fall morning. You were his first heartfelt dance, dressed in shimmery black satin and pearls that he gifted. You were his first goodnight kiss, and first morning embrace. You were his first comfort after tragedy struck and his first sympathetic heartache. You were everything.

It was no longer about chaining you. He loved his firsts. He would forever remember them.

His first goodbye.

On the cusp of your 3rd year coming to a close, Malleus prepared the ring from two years prior. He would gift it to you after your graduation. It would be yours whether you accepted the meaning behind it or not - the ring could go to no one else.

An announcement arrives to him the week prior via pen and paper. Hand written by you and oh how he so loved your letters. Malleus opened it with calm delight, yet as his eyes traveled across the words he forgot how to control his strength. The paper alit in flames.

‘The Headmaster found a way to send me home. Would you come for a visit?’

The letter was not so blunt, but that’s all he could comprehend. Malleus was not ready to say goodbye. He once thought his greatest fear was to watch his flower wilt, yet now it must be cut to make a bouquet.

As much as it tore him apart, Malleus had to let you go. He couldn’t root you to soil forever. His hands unconsciously drift to the velvet rose box tucked safely in his breast pocket.

It’s only natural you’d be the source of some of Malleus’ lasts. He would never love another.

He joins you days before your ceremony. You explain to him the procedure to return, and he bites his tongue once again. He encourages you, and is happy that you’re happy. The ring burns a hole where his heart lies yet he continues on with grace, ignoring the cautious behavior of your peers whenever he’s around. The only opinion he cared for was yours, and he’d stay as long as you needed.

Malleus missed the way your heart sought his. The way you gave him chance after chance to ask you to stay. How you clung to him despite the roles normally being reversed.

“I guess this is goodbye. I’ll miss you,” you whisper, holding Malleus’ hand and glancing at the glowing portal behind him. Malleus smiles, his eyes softening as he leans forward to kiss your forehead.

“I will never forget your heart,” he murmurs against your skin, and reaches into his breast pocket with fluid movements. Malleus places the velvet rose box in your hands, cradling them gently with both of his.

“This is yours. I had it made for your finger alone, and only you will be the one to wear it. My heart belongs to you. Let this be my final selfish wish, but I hope you will think of me when you look upon it”

Malleus doesn’t understand why you break down. The way you clutch the box to your chest and look at him with such pain. He thought you wanted to go home. Is it not what you waited so long for?

He cannot be strong when you’re crying. How can you be so cruel. He won’t be able to -

“I want to be with you. I love you,” you whisper yet he hears it perfectly clear.

Malleus’ heart stutters and he clutches your shoulders. With one hand he tilts your chin up to look at him. Your eyes splotched with red irritation and glassy with sorrow. He wipes at their edges with his thumbs, cupping your cheeks ans looking at you for any sign of doubt. Any insincerity or fear. Your expression from years prior still lives rent free in his mind…he would not risk your happiness for his selfishness.

He finds nothing and pulls you in his arms. For the first time, Malleus sheds tears born from love. From relief. He wraps his arms protectively around you, and tucks his chin over your head.

“If you love something, let it be free. If it was meant to be yours then it will come back willingly. This is a saying of humans, is it not? I could not have you at the cost of your happiness. You do not deserve such a tainted love…but if this is truly what you desire, then I will not cease my efforts. You are mine, and I will eternally be yours,”

{Malleus’ ring is hand crafted by the royal blacksmith. Some would assume that there is a ring passed down through generations of the Draconia bloodline. There is not. The fae do not follow such traditions, yet Malleus would not instill all his values onto you. If it is a ring you need, then it is a ring he will get. He decides to reforge a gem plucked from his mother’s staff. The ring is made especially for you, with a teardrop-cut of magic-infused emerald as the focus point. It’s enchanted to reject any hand other than your own, and morphs to the size of your finger. It is subtle, made of pure gold, and a symbol of union between fae and mankind.}

"One should never make a vow of eternal love lightly. Take it from someone with ample life experience"

Lilia often imposes advice without any prompting. The musings of an old man normally went in and out of people's ears anyways. Sometimes it takes experience to learn, and no matter how we try to warn our children - fate is fate. They will go through the motions just as the people before them. Especially when it comes to trials of the heart such as love and loss.

Lilia knows both intimately. They've forged the man he is.

Philia: Love of friendship and equals. His peers, his comrades in arms, his fellow fae. The friends he has lost through death and distance. Those he fought to protect.

Storge: Parental love. To raise the son of his closest friends, and the blood of his sworn enemy. Lilia has fought through loss to feel the gratification of fatherhood. Lilia loves his children.

Agape: Love of man. This one took work. It took losing all he had, and then losing more. Hundreds of years of healing and trying to be better. Even in his final stretch Lilia is still learning this love.

Eros: Passionate, unconditional love. Lilia has felt this once, and only once. The wound still fresh with a dribble of salt steadily halting the healing process. To feel eros is a beautiful thing, but to have it ripped away is enough to kill.

Lilia experienced his fair share, and now enjoys watching those in the prime of life seek out love. He doesn't engage in romantic gossip, but enjoys watching others live their lives. One of his biggest curiosities being you, oddly enough.

This is because you've shown no interest in feeling love of any kind. Being the nosy man he is, Lilia finds your dismissal of others a bit concerning. He's not the most open person himself, yet you're a young human. This is when you should be wild! Surely you must feel something, considering all the 'escapades' you've been on with other students. The best way to bond is over shared trauma - he's not endorsing it. Just stating a fact.

"It's nothing personal. I'd rather not get too attached considering my living circumstances, if you catch my drift" you say in response to his prying.

He indeed 'catches the drift' and sees a bit of himself reflected in you. You were not unkind, yet also not overzealous. You did not push others away, yet also made an effort to protect yourself. For all the kind deeds you've done, Lilia knew better than to think it a case of bleeding heart syndrome. You remind him of how he was when deciding to raise Silver - afraid and very good at hiding it for the sake of others.

He decides to step in against his better judgement. If anything to repay the kindness you've done Malleus and his two youngsters. He couldn't watch you waste the precious life you’ve been given huddled away in isolation. Lilia would become your confident, as he is the most equipped to endure inevitably bidding farewell. If anything he will encourage you to forge stronger bonds of your own accord without fear.

He does an outstanding job at being the extrovert adopting an introvert. His favorite hobby being to startle you - popping out from random places like trees, bushes, the ceiling, your closet, etc. So much that you grow accustomed to his antics and expect them. Going so far as to always carry hard candies in your coat pocket as a peace offering.

He invites you to play online video games, go shopping, and sometimes pops by your dorm with Malleus. However his visits soon become solo, sensing that his adopted son didn't enjoy his 'nightly stroll' with his best friend being invaded. Lilia didn't mind - it meant that he'd get your company all to himself! There was nothing like watching a few horror flicks and tormenting Grimm after them. You even had a guest room in case he felt too ‘lazy’ to fly home.

On your birthday, he bakes a cake and leaves it on your kitchen windowsill. You found it, and even thanked him 'happily' later that day. He never said he was the chef though....you must have quite a keen sense of taste! That or he must be so talented that you know his cooking by heart!

Lilia felt a sense of relief, seeing your mannerisms shift from neutral to happy as time passed. It was hard work ebbing away at those walls of yours. It's not good for humans to be stressed. It lessens their already short lifespan.

He really should step aside. Let you befriend more humans and people that will support your journey. Except he doesn't want to. Philia's taken root in his heart - you're now a friend. An actual one.

So...he doesn't let go.

You join the college's boardgame club, and Lilia feels honored that he's the first you ask to play with. Each time you sought his company made him feel young again. Thrills did tend to follow your wake after all.

You often spent many evenings teaching Malleus, Silver, and even Sebek about your world. Not something Lilia planned for, but seeing you open up about it put his mind at ease. The different cultures, history, trends - Lilia listens in happily as well. Going so far as to learn some of your favorite recipes. He wants to cook them right away, but agrees to wait for your company. You grew nervous when he brought the topic up, possibly because you didn't want to be left out? Surely, that must be why.

Soon comes another January 1st - Signifying a new year and also Lilia’s birthday. The night prior he was out on the prowl, flying free throughout campus, watching people party and celebrate. Normally he’d spend this evening having fun of his own, but being caged at a school left him little chances to be free. Jumping across rooftops and sneaking around doing parkour was a trip down memory lane. The fireworks and lively people made for an excellent atmosphere.

By chance he happened on your rooftop, and decided to pop in for a quick respite. Slipping in through an open window was child’s play, as was avoiding your paranormal houseguests and popping in and out of rooms.

His keen hearing picks up your voice coming from the main bedroom - and normally he wouldn’t invade a personal space but the door was open. So obviously it was an invitation. He sticks to the ceiling and crawls to a shrouded corner with a mischievous grin.

How unsuspecting you were - dressed up in fancy clothes and muttering to yourself while in front of a floor length mirror. Lilia thinks you’re going to a party and is prepping to tag along -

“Alright. I can do this,” you mutter and turn around to pace the floor. A neatly wrapped present is clutched tight in your hands - wrapped in ivory paper with a sparkly pink ribbon. Lilia freezes just when he’s about to jump down, and clings back to the wall. “Just give it to him. Give it and tell him how you feel,” you turn towards the mirror, holding the box out, “Hello there Lilia. Yes, this is a birthday present. Yes, you’re a year older, how exciting! By the way I really like you so would you want to go on a date?” You fall silent, cringing in disgust at your reflection before sitting on the bed, “Ah. That was such dogshit”

Lilia exits as swift as he entered. The night air whips against his skin as he transforms into a bat and is already on the way back home. The implications of what he just witnessed weighing heavily on his mind.

This would not be the first time someone has caught feelings for him. You don't go 700 years without any suitors - he'd always turn them down with careful consideration.

Except he doesn't want to this time. That's the major issue.

The flight home was long, with purposeful detours until he felt tired enough to retire. A familiar bitter ache stung his heart. He'd only felt this disappointment once prior, and swore off letting it bud again.

Eros.

Lilia was in love too. He recognized the passion growing long before this moment, and against his better judgement let it fester.

"Seems I'm not as equipped to handle this as I once believed" he says to no-one and moves to play some online games instead of sleeping.

Lilia once felt a love he couldn’t express through anything other than fealty and devotion. It was a darker time where there was no promise of future. He swore not to endure that pain again - yet this is similar yet also different. The love is blooming effortlessly. His devotion is growing. The desire is there and so is the fear. All the same feelings yet without the dire weight of external forces adding pressure. This time it’s his choice to follow through. There’s no bigger force at play stopping him. Not even your mortality, considering how his lifespan is almost at its close.

Yet for all his years of wisdom, the thought of putting his heart out was still as frightening as the first.

In truth, Lilia had ulterior reasons for pursuing your companionship other than worry or repaying a debt. Your behaviors did remind him of his past self. That was no lie. He simply felt affection blooming upon your first meeting and thought having your friendship would morph it into something more tame. He had a habit of drawing in lost souls - what was one more?

Now the affection is stronger, and you return it.

Heavens, was he being given another chance? After all these years.

You return it. It's requited. He needn't hide it for the sake of someone else's happiness. Lilia could be selfish, if only he let himself.

The next day, Lilia finds an ivory box with a sparkly pink ribbon outside his door. A neatly written letter is attached, with the words 'Happy Birthday' written on the front. His name is written on the tag in black ink, with your name signed as the sender.

Lilia picks it up and undoes the wrapping with nimble movements. Inside is an assortment of treats that he wanted to try from your home, and a neatly folded letter atop them. It details exactly what was expected, a perfect explanation of your feelings that's entirely different than the nervous display he intruded upon.

He looks around the hallway, checking to see if you’re nearby before disappearing without a trace. Nothing but an open door showing that he left.

Everything after is a blur. While doing the dishes back at your dorm and trying not to think of the present - Lilia appears out of nowhere, startling you for what was probably the first time in months. His typical cheeky grin and snicker were nowhere in sight.

He says one thing, “Are you certain?”. The words held a heavy meaning for the both of you.

Asking if he’s willing to go for one last chance. To take one final risk or simply be satisfied with all he’s accomplished thus far. It asks if you’re willing to do the same - to risk everything you’ve built in one fell swoop.

You nod, and Lilia smiles. Not an impish smirk or a snarky grin. A true, soft smile that is full of released tension. He happily hugs you from behind as you finish working in silence, gradually slipping back to his playful ways yet not entirely. He would remain the out of touch peepaw that you so loved to tease him as, but a bit of his youthful spirit was being revived. His inner self being healed, perhaps.

He loves you, and the world hasn’t split in two. It was his time.

Finally.

From then on he had no reservations in loving you. This was a new form of eros. A new passion filled with joy and living for the moment - versus the weight of time holding him back like it did when he was younger. Nothing changed in your dynamic other than he now had the strength to let himself love freely.

Which is exactly why he wastes no more time. Just as he told you off hand long ago, one should not make a vow of eternal love lightly. He’d take his own advice and seek his own happiness for the first time in hundreds of years.

On a random night with no inkling of warning, Lilia drags you out of bed to the Ramshackle rooftop in nothing but your nightclothes. It wasn’t the first time he’d ask for a midnight escapade - just for the thrill and surprise, most of the time. He loved to keep things exciting.

Except he was being far too gentle. Far too nostalgic. He sits you down on the edge of the roof and puts his cardigan over your shoulders. Not a word passes between you as he tucks it snug around your shoulders - his hand tracing the line of your cheekbones, down your arms and to your hands. He cradles them gently, never taking his eyes from yours.

Then something foreign glimmers against your finger. In an effortless motion, he slipped the ring on without pause. You can’t help but stare at the gem in thought, looking between it and Lilia’s thoughtful expression over and over.

Lilia nods, taking your hand in his and running his thumb over the ring - admiring it against your skin.

“I’ve lived many years. Lead many lives. I thought I had accepted my nearing end, yet I find myself wanting more. I want to grey with grace at your side. To enjoy mundane evenings - greet you come morning and kiss you to seal a day’s end. I want my last life to be at your side, if only you will have me”

{A blood red garnet placed inside a blossom frame. Lilia’s ring is made of silver, and gives the illusion of a red rose in a bed of vines. Red is the color of passion, devotion, and unconditional love. Red roses hold this very meaning in the language of flowers. Lilia has felt this before - but you are his fated. You have chosen him simply for the person he is - not who he needs to be. He can finally be free and at peace. Your love is something he can selfishly hoard and it gives him the desire to enjoy life. He feels full. Happy. He hopes that this ring shows that he wants to live for the moment by your side, eternally}

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #diasomnia #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines

[earthtooz]

cw: arranged marriage, fluff, neglect at the beginning, ratio falling hard, pining, ratio being jealous of aventurine, unedited bc i wrote this with my heart not my brain

my brain has been thinking about an arranged marriage fic with dr. ratio...

he isn't kind to you at first, less than happy to share a life with a mere acquaintance. he's heard about you before in passing, noting your achievements with a grain of salt because nothing about you particularly mattered to him, irrelevant against the mass of scrolls and books he needs to read.

you don't really disturb his normal routine too much. you move in to his estate with a fair share of your belongings, but none of them crowd his house too much. you have your own room, pristine guest room unearthed by your artistic touch.

aside from dinners, you don't get to see each other too much. he starts his mornings early, getting up at the crack of dawn to exercise and start his day with a hearty meal. you wake up later, partaking in a slow morning, and if you glanced out the window, you might be able to see your husband running laps around the expanse of his gardens.

you admire his dedication and routine, it's fascinating to live beside a genius. everyday, the chest table that sits in the living room changes, the black and white pieces never remaining where you last recalled. the size of his blackboard is impressive, and yet too small to fit all of the formulas his brain remembers, hands effortlessly dancing along the surface to scratch number after number.

a frequent order of his estate is chalk. a new pile is delivered every three days, and he goes through them without fail every time.

during dinner, he tries to spare some conversation with you. you don't tell him too much about your day, not wanting to bore him with your menial chores. he's only half-listening either way, so you'll feign understanding about his work when he explains what he's up to.

ratio is not an attentive husband, but he doesn't mistreat you, either. he allows you to spend his assets without too much care, doesn't police your everyday tasks, and also doesn't bat an eye at other men or women. his pursuit of intelligence is important, and your wellbeing would not come in between that.

your monotonous, distant routine changes one autumn dusk. you're perched in the front yard with an easel set up before you, the sky in front of you now a blend of pink-purple hues. he returns home earlier than you expected, carriage stopping at the front of his estate, and he witnesses you in your tranquil state.

the paint strokes on the canvas before you are skilled, and show years of dedication to the craft. you're so invested in the piece before you, that you don't even hear him approaching until he calls your name.

"the night turns colder with each minute. shouldn't you come inside before you fall ill?" the scholar greets, and you're snapped out of your creative reverie, looking over at him.

"oh, i had not realised. let me clean up here, first." you take your canvas off the easel, but to your surprise, your spouse kneels down to organise your oil paints back into their box.

"make haste, then," he urges.

during dinner, he can't help but be curious over your hobby, the stubborn splotches of paint clinging to your hands visible to him. that night, you engage in uninterrupted conversation, and discover that he's an artist himself- a sculptor. it calms him, and all the statues reside in a removed room, adjacent to his study.

despite your years of matrimony, you had never once dared enter his study, but the design is so fittingly him. it is organised (well, as organised a genius can be), with shelves and shelves filled with books, discarded scrolls lay around the room, but even then, his taste for greco-roman aesthetics are seen. roman dorics act like stands for little plants, and his many certificates are displayed, along with other achievements.

(his study is overwhelmingly filled with them. though you knew of the merit of the man you were arranged to be married to, you had never known just how expansive the list is. perhaps, that only made him more intimidating to you, standing beside a genius does not feel so light to say anymore.)

he shows you his sculptures, and though many of them are... self portraits... the likeness is disgustingly accurate. it was as if he had casted himself in plaster and displayed it proudly. you wonder how long he must have stared in the mirror to perfect their appearance.

but, there are also various other formidable statues. some of people you recognise. you compliment his skill and don't get to see the blush that spreads along his cheeks.

it seems that you've chipped a way into his heart, because between brushstrokes and chiselled marble, he falls in love with you.

ratio knows he didn't start off being the best husband, but he tries to now, and begins by being present. asks you to dine together where possible, listens when you're talking about your day, and the two of you can be seen venturing downtown together; an unbelievable sight for those who believed that ratio was romantically inept.

perhaps, an even more unbelievable sight, was the soft smile on his face that glanced at you very adoringly, and how you remained unaware of his affections.

and, maybe a jealous veritas ratio is just as unbelievable.

he is practically glaring daggers at the side of a certain blond's head. ratio has never been fond of the scheming businessman, aventurine, and is even less so of the fact that you seem so close to him, more than you are with your own husband. you're speaking with him like how one would with old friends, a peaceful visit to the markets turned sour by his presence.

when you finally, finally, finally, bid farewell to aventurine, who gave ratio a look that signified he was up to no good, your husband held your hand in his gloved one with an unforgiving grip. his mood is dampened for the remainder of the day, and is only made better when you enquire about his sudden glumness, visiting his office to see if he was alright.

you leave him with a kiss on the crown of his head, and a whisper of 'goodnight', before retreating to your chambers, and the only thought that circulates in his head for the rest of the night is you, and how he's going to sweep you off your feet.

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ earf's ideas that i'll never write #earthtooz: honkai star rail #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #ratio x reader #dr ratio fluff #dr. ratio x reader

[mo0nfairy]

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ LET YOU BREAK MY HEART AGAIN !

summary :: together in blissful matrimony, miguel o'hara has never felt true happiness until he was by your side. when you're unexpectedly taken from him, he'll do anything in his power to avenge your death. what he doesn't expect is to find you during that process. or, at least, one version of you.

word count :: 2.9k

content warnings :: obsessive!miguel, yandere!miguel, death, deafness (reader is deaf & mute in one reality), spiders, marriage, gore, grief, noncon touching, drugging (venom is put into readers system).

authors note :: Y/H/N = your hero name.

miguel o'hara's yandere traits are . . .

smothering, territorial, & paranoid

──── The gentle melody of piano and harp paint the room in an array of romantic hues. Snow drifts through the Winter air from outside the frozen windows of the venue. Family and friends stand around and admire the beautiful scene before them. You're adorned head-to-toe in white, like an angel who had just descended from the clouds. Miguel is dressed in the finest suit he searched high and low for to ensure it was perfect for this day. However, he knows no one is paying attention to him when you look as breathtaking as you do. His rough-skinned, yet gentle-mannered hand rests on your lower back, the other interlocking your hands together. With your head resting against his shoulder, he sways your body along to the gentle hum of music pervading the air.

Your first dance.

The golden light from the chandelier above serves as a spotlight for you and Miguel. Feeling his chest begin to shake, you move your head to look him in the eye. Tears of sheer happiness were cascading down his cheeks and a weak smile is plastered on his face. You swear that if you were to look up 'devotion' in a dictionary, the way he is looking at you would take up the entire page.

Miguel briefly disentangles his constricted hold on your hand to express his current, overwhelming feelings. He points his middle and ring finger down, the rest of the digits left pointing up. "I love you," that is what he is telling you. When he had first learned you were deaf, he spent his nights studying ASL and SSL in order to communicate with you. However, that single symbol is the one he always finds himself reverting to when all other signs and words fail him. I love you, I love you, I love you. Although Miguel won't express it verbally, he will express the three words through his hands for as long as he lives.

And Miguel remembers the best day of his life just as much as the worst day.

Just one month after you had both gleefully tied the knot, the two of you had gone on a stroll through Nueva York. The moon hangs heavy in the sky and darkness settles against the faint streetlights. Miguel made the vow to always protect you and you've found it to be comforting, relaxing. After a whole lifetime of being deaf and mute, you knew that you were far more vulnerable than others. Knowing you have the Spiderman as your husband causes your concern of any potential assailants to fade away. It's evident in the way his grip on your waist tightens when passerbys walk by and the perceptible shift in his eye when someone stares at you for a little too long.

You've always known he wouldn't let anything happen to you.

The following events all happen quicker than either of you can think. Just as you're crossing the bridge that overlooks the entire city in all its glory, a sudden black hole forms, framed with iridescent hues and overwhelming force. The power of the portals sudden appearance causes the bridge to vibrate beneath your feet. Screams of terror from pedestrians falling to their death goes unbeknownst to you as Miguel holds you against him with constricted tension and hides your face in his chest. The man you have chosen to spend the rest of your life ignores his duty of being the city’s superhero. All in favor of your life.

The remnants of the platform you stood on soon crumble. The red glare of Miguel’s web shoots from his wrist, to where it wraps itself around one of the numerous pillars spread upon the bridge to ensnare you further. But it was so quick, the way you slip from his tenacious grasp. Almost as if someone had forcefully snatched you from him. Innocent civilians shout and plead for Spiderman to save them, but Miguel can't hear them over the thumping of his own heartbeat. Even if he were to hear them, it would not stop him from tearing this entire city asunder in order to get to you.

He forms his hand into the same sign he uses to say 'I love you' and another blaring-red web, the same hue as his panic, springs from him and down to wrap itself around your body. He's done this a million times for others and saved the lives of practically everyone in the city. But, this is you. Miguel is digging his claws into crumbled pieces of the wreckage and shoving them through the air as if they were merely nothing, all in favor of saving you. However, you're both picking up speed and accelerating closer and closer and closer to the unforgiving ground. He latches his talons into a protruding pipe caused by the chaos and clings tight to the web connecting you with him, watching in trepidation as you continue to fall. Attempting to pull the web towards him and bring you back into his arms, where you belong, his efforts were futile.

A loud crack! permeates and his world falls apart.

Practically faster than light, Miguel is pummeling to the ground and to where you now lay. Your chest is flat with no breath and your body is lifeless. Blood is caked on your skull and it cascades onto the pavement beneath you. He rushes to your side, a mantra of ‘no’’s invading the dead, silent air. His heart is paralyzed in his chest as reality sinks into his bones. Desperate pleads escape through loud, violent sobs, begging for you to just open your eyes, hold your hand up, and tell him 'I love you, too'. He knows you cannot hear him, he knows this. But, this does not stop him from begging you, begging God, begging the universe, begging anyone to not do this to him, to not take away the only thing that has ever mattered to him. The only thing that has ever made him happy.

He'll never forget how he had stayed there for hours, ensnaring your lifeless body in his arms as the night faded into dawn. He'll never forget when he left you through brute force and was sent back to the desolate building he could only call home when you were in it. He'll never forget how he had spent days upon days studying the sudden black hole that formed and declared to destroy whoever caused it. The person responsible had taken you from him and if every soul in the galaxy has to pay in order for him to avenge the only one he loves, then so be it.

A year had gone by and every second without you become more tortuous than the last. Things that made him once glisten with joy only make his empty heart lurch with grief. Miguel is now present in the Spider-Society, desperate to manipulate any and all sources to eradicate who had so selfishly taken you from him. He'll just have to endure the yapping teenage-spiders that push at his buttons for the time being. All for you, he reminds himself.

At times, unbeknownst to Miguel, he'll start mumbling your wedding vows under his breath in front of the other spider-people to ease his mind. He knows it by heart; he will never forget it. They may all stare in disturbed confusion, but to mention your name to a man like him would be nothing short of a death sentence. "It's a soft spot, don’t poke it" Jess informs the others.

When the day is finally over and his everlasting efforts were brought to no avail, Miguel will return to the house you had planned on spending the rest of your lives in. Together. All life has been sucked out of the property. The wedding photos scattered about the premise have been derelict with shattered glass after enraged fits. The 'Just Married!' paint still sits on his car and decays with age, but he refuses to ever scrub it off. Your wedding ring, wedding dress/suit, and flower bouquet sit in indestructible cages he operated to preserve them. He fidgets with the wedding ring he vowed to never take off as he wallows in the despair of his silent home. If only he had been quicker; if only he hadn't been so weak.

The video of you dancing in matrimonial bliss ends and the monitor shuts off faster than Miguel could even blink.

The hefty, metal doors to the headquarters open to where several spider-people enter, pantomiming dramatically about the success of their previous missions. Their sudden appearance startles him, to where he demands to know why Lyla hadn't informed him of the spiders' incoming. Jess then enlightens him on his strict rule he set to not disturb him whenever your face is on screen. He exhales with a sigh of defeat and prepares himself for the onslaught of mayhem that would soon come his way. This time, however, a new recruit has joined the group.

Full-body suit hiding any form of physical identity and a soft voice that rarely comes out, Y/H/N from Earth-555 was requested to join the team by Jessica Drew herself. And Miguel couldn't care less if he tried. He'll let another spider on the team if it means keeping the multiverse stable and fueling his progress to one day finally kill the one responsible for your demise. Still, something allures him about this new recruit. Their real name and face are left a mystery to him, but there are certain moments with this stranger where he can't but be reminded of you. That soft voice and heedful hearing prevent him from fully indulging in your memory, but there are certain tics and habits they possess that catch him off guard.

The way you tap your feet when you’re focused, the way you scratch your wrists when you’re anxious, and the way you fidget with the hem of your clothes when you’re bored. And this is what life had been like for a while. Staring at the countless monitors that display a myriad of different information until his brain rots and returning hole to bathe in his misery until the next day repeats.

Several months into Y/H/N's time here is when the doors to the headquarters slam open and several spider-people all clamor in. All were breathless and bruised from a mission that ended messily. The new hero is in the mayhem, as well, exasperated as they rest against the wall. Miguel rolls his eyes at the sudden intrusion and leaves his spot at his desk to find out what these idiots had done now. They all scramble to defend themselves and point their finger at one another, while that new recruit is still trying to catch their breath in the corner. Pathetic. They should know by now that the sake of the multiverse can't afford even a minor mistake. Seeing them left so weak after a fight causes a dry laugh to escape his throat.

Their gloved fingers then grasp hold of the hem of their mask, before forcefully yanking it from their head. And it is like a miracle had materialized right before Miguel's eyes.

His stomach drops at the sudden intrusion of emotions. Shock, elation, disbelief, infatuation. Y/H/N, Earth-555's Spiderman, is his Y/N. You stand before him as you did all those years ago. Despite the dirt and blood smothered into your exposed skin, Miguel thinks you look almost as beautiful as you did when you walked down the aisle.

All you do is clench your eyes shut and try to wait for the pain in your abdomen to ease. The clattering arguments of the others only add fuel to the flame that is your suffering. Soon, there is a sudden wave of silence that washes over. Even with the agony coursing through your body, you were still able to catch the abrupt shift in the atmosphere. You open your eyes to find the man you had feared most, Miguel O'Hara, treading towards you and towering over you with his large figure. Paralyzed with fear, you had jumped to the conclusion that you had enranged him in some way. The terror is so overwhelming, you completely miss the sheer look of love in his eyes and how his pupils had morphed into the shape of a heart.

Eventually, you gain control of your numb body and make a break for it. Pain pumps like a drug through your damaged body, but you persevere and use every sliver of strength left in you to run from him. You're running through the city, dodging past all the numerous spider-people, and webbing through different buildings to escape this maniac of a man. During this, your name and demands for your return are shouted profusely. You don't have time to acknowledge how on Earth he had found out what your actual name was.

Mistakenly, you take a quick glance over your shoulder and almost shiver with fear at the sight alone. Miguel is barrelling after you on all fours like some sort of fucking animal, with fangs and claws out and all. Broken glass protrudes into his limbs from the numerous windows and walls he barreled through. Blood seeps through the torn cuts of his suit, exposing his bruised skin. The excess of vermillion webs clutters the complex from his frivolous attempts at retrieving you. It is utterly terrifying.

Somehow in the midst of chaos, you had found yourself back in the headquarters. The 'Go-Home Machine' practically calls out for you with its luminescent hues. You hear the muffled shouts of your name and the thumping of racing footsteps. In an attempt to use your webs for faster travel, you realize that during your chase, you had entirely run out of web fuel. Shit. From here, you resort to using your legs for once and practically throw yourself into the machine. The translucent spider above uses its limbs to piece together bits of the portals' walls as if it were merely stacking legos. Hope pokes at your brain, but you don't dare let yourself think the storm had washed over just yet. A deafening crash then permeates through the headquarters.

"STOP THEM! NOW!" The echo sends a chill straight into your bones. You watch the machine sputter with increased energy and hope that with enough time, this predator on your tail will find something else for dinner.

Miguel springs into the air as if he were weightless, before landing above you on the thick facade while it buzzes from heightened energy. You have nothing but this wall to protect you from this absolute rabid dog. Sheer trepidation caresses your skin with it's ice-cold touch as he attempts to claw through the membrane of space and time protecting you.

He is bone-chillingly terrifying as he slams all the strength in his body against the barrier. It becomes increasingly difficult for him to keep his grasp on the machine as it continues to charge with intensifying energy. This does not halt his efforts, though. If anything, Miguel has now become increasingly aggressive as the prospect of you leaving him again becomes more profound. The technology whirs from every punch and thrash Miguel gives in order to get to you. Static bolts of energy protrude the air like lightning bolts when he is finally able to tear a hole through the surface, eyes wide and crazed like some sort of beast.

In an attempt to stop him, you try and piece together the chunks of radiation that had been discarded from his unwanted entry. Upon doing so, Miguel is finally able to reach through the opening and dig his talons into your wrist. Your escape was right at the edge of your fingertips, but now you have been flung straight into the jaws of this monster. You splat harshly against the ground and with the state your body was now in, you knew for certain you could not fight anymore.

However, you don't even have a mere second to think of leaving anymore. Not when this vampire-spider has you pinned to the floor with ease faster than you could produce a single thought. He begins to shush you like a baby while you fight and thrash at his chest. His large hand cups your cheek with the same softness you would use to handle a kitten, while the other utilizes his strength to restrain your body.

"I got you! I got you back with me!" The pitch in his voice had raised as he pours his heart out to you. "I never thought I would see you again, but you’re here. My Y/N, you’ve come back to me…” Red eyes are blown wide and they practically stare daggers into you. All as if you were some sort of prey.

The only thing his words do justice in is confusing you further. What you had perceived before as anger was actually... Desperation? Relief? Love? This man has never spoken a single word to you for the entirety of your several months spent in the complex. You are perplexed as you try to think of what had triggered him to suddenly act this way towards you.

"I will never let anything happen to you again... Just let me under your skin..." Miguel's lips find their way down to your ear as he whispers to you the same way a lover would. The entire moment is so deranged, it makes you shudder with horror.

His teeth then sink into the nape of your neck as if his fangs were two needles. With a yelp, you feel warm blood escape and seep down your flesh. Something new swims through your bloodstream that was induced by his bite. Your body begins to fail you and lethargy envelops you like a warm blanket. And this man is like goddamn Dracula, slurping and drinking every last drop of your delicious essence. His calloused hands savor the feel of your body against his and he indulges in how much he had missed this, missed you. With a final, feeble attempt to defend yourself against your assailant, you're soon enveloped into a deep slumber within Miguel's embrace.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 ۫ you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

❝ ONE DAY, I WILL STOP

FALLING IN LOVE WITH YOU . . . ❞

i wrote this all in one sitting after an all-nighter please bare with me lmao.

did you guys also know that the pupils of his eyes canonically turn into hearts?

#moonfairy #miguel o'hara #spiderman #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #masterlist #yandere #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere spiderman #yandere spiderverse #yandere across the spiderverse #yandere atsv #miguel o’hara imagine #spiderman imagine #spiderverse imagine #across the spiderverse imagine #atsv imagines #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse x reader #atsv x reader #Spotify

[chuluoyi]

romeo and juliet

- fushiguro megumi x reader

you were both young when you first saw each other. years later, you and your gentle childhood friend fall in love... but you're betrothed to someone else.

genre/warnings: modern royal(?) au, childhood friends to lovers, soft!megumi, fluff, forbidden love, arranged marriage, mild angst, comfort

notes: i love this request!! but i don’t know if this turned out good🥲 honestly, this is what unholy matrimony would be if done right in another universe *snorts* anyways i hope i did this right! enjoy!

had to repost it 3x bcs it didn't show up in the tags😭 based on this request: “Hey, can I ask a Megumi x Reader with the plot related to “Love Story” by Taylor Swift?” thank you anon!

listen to: love story - taylor swift duh

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Your father had always told you that you were promised to the Zen'in.

Ever since you were a child, he had groomed you to be the picture-perfect lady, and he always brought you to their ancestral home, a grand, maze-like estate you would always get lost in.

You were barely six back then, stumbling on your own feet as tears streamed down your face. You sought refuge in the gardens, hoping that someone would come to find you there eventually as you were tired of walking around.

And on that fateful day, the one who finally did was none other than the little Fushiguro Megumi, who looked at you with tilted head and confused eyes.

"Are you... okay?" he asked cautiously, and he was startled when your wide, teary eyes quickly focused on him. The next thing he knew, you immediately clung to his hand.

"I'm lost! Please help me!" you said with trembling voice, and Megumi merely blinked. This unknown girl suddenly latched onto him, well, who wouldn't be taken by surprise?

Yet, even as a child, Megumi knew how to treat someone right. Seeing you in distress, he immediately found a way to console you. "Okay... where are your parents? Let me take you back to them."

"I... don't know..."

He sighed. You were a stone throw away from bursting into tears, and he didn't want that. He had to find another way. "Don't be scared. This place seems scary, but it's not."

You scrunched your face, tears already pooling in your eyes. "How is it not scary? There are so many windows and leaves! This is more like a jungle rather than a house!"

"Well..." Megumi wracked his head and a light bulb went off in his head when he caught the sight of the flowers. He pointed at a pot of roses. "Look, they're actually quite pretty, right?"

At that very moment, your focus was completely captured by the flourishing plant, and your eyes practically shimmered with delight.

Little Megumi thought then, that you were quite lovely.

And your friendship started then, as he took you by the arm to lead you to the main foyer.

Years flew by, and the only thing that made it bearable to pay a visit to the Zen'in was meeting Megumi. You both would explore various hidden corners and knew every nook and cranny of the place. And when you reached your teens, the "playing" was replaced by studying in the library together.

"Hrrrgh, why—can't—I—reach—"

You gritted your teeth in frustration as you attempted to pull the book from the top shelf, only to fail miserably. Your were too short. But you refused to surrender, standing on your tiptoes once more, you stretched your hand as far as it would go.

Suddenly, the scent of fresh roses filled the air, accompanied by a warm presence behind you. Your back made contact with him, and a longer hand effortlessly retrieved the book you desired.

"If you're having a hard time, ask me for help, dummy," Megumi shook his head and handed you the book. "Here."

"Thank you," you pouted. Despite the frequent close proximity between you two, you still found yourself feeling giddy.

Megumi was always like this though. He was curt, but he cares. He would often cheer you up whenever you father smothered you with the talk that he couldn't wait for the day you would be living at the Zen'in estate and became their bride. He would get you flowers, let you put your head on his shoulder, or quietly watch as you cried, offering his silent presence.

You really, really hoped that if you were to be married off to the Zen'in, it would be to Megumi. He was easily the boy you'd pick over Naoya, the son of the main branch of family. You were never close to him, the way he stared at you sure gave you the creeps.

"I can ask for your help anytime, right, Megumi?" you mused, observing his cool profile as he turned the page of the book he was reading.

He regarded you with the straightest face ever. "Of course. I have always helped you since we were kids. Why wouldn't I do that now?"

"Then..." you breathed. "Can you take me somewhere... anywhere, just away from all of this?"

Megumi stilled. He knew about the conflicts in your heart. He knew you hated being played as a pawn in your father's schemes, and he hated that too, because he simply didn't like how sad it made you.

And he hated that there was the looming possibility that you might be out of his reach far sooner than he thought.

"Sure," he answered. "Where do you wanna go?"

And then, you began to do just that. Sneaking out to the gardens, finding secret meeting spots in the town—because you were dead if anyone should know.

Before you knew it, you both had each other's hearts entirely in your hands—before you knew it, his face was mere inches from yours as you both concealed yourselves behind a large cluster of foliage in the Zen'in gardens, your father and the Zen'in clan head engrossed in a conversation just a few feet away.

Your clear, wide eyes blinked up at him, and Megumi gulped. At that moment, he realized once again that you, his childhood friend, were really stunning. And that you trusted him wholeheartedly enough to go with him and be found in this position, with him.

He couldn't deny it any longer. He was in love with you. Have been for a while now.

And so even with the great risk of being found out, he led you deeper into the woods, his arm wrapped around the small of your back, and with a soft tug, he planted the gentlest, sweetest kiss on your lips—your very first kiss. Everything was sealed then.

"So, do you say yes, or not?" he mumbled afterwards, his cheeks burst into the color of peach. Meanwhile you, still breathless, touched your lips in astonishment.

"You..." you couldn't help the grin that was blooming in your face. "You like me?"

He turned away. "Who wouldn't? After making me run after you, lead you to safe places, see you cry—"

"Okay, okay!" you giggled, and the sound was like music to his ears. "Then it's a yes!"

You were the happiest with him. Amidst the intrigues surrounding you and the Zen'in clan, the times you spent with him were your saving grace.

"Am I pretty?" you boldly twirled in front of him, after meeting up at the outskirts of the town in one of your escapades. Megumi watched you from head to toe, taking note of how your flare dress hugged your form so elegantly, and the straw hat that framed your head only made you look even more adorable.

He didn't immediately answer, and when he did, all with red cheeks, you smiled brightly, expecting a compliment.

"Don't do that. People are looking. You're embarrassing yourself."

You pouted. "So I'm not pretty..."

To your surprise, he suddenly plucked your hat and pulled you behind the pillar, and then the round hat was beside your head, hiding your face—

And he stole a kiss.

"Megumi!" you jolted, blood quickly rushed to your beautiful face. "This is public place!"

His soft chuckle only served to make your heart soar even higher.

You were living the dream, with the man of your dreams beside you. This love story no one knew, you were content with it.

"By this point, all there's left to do is run," you heaved between chuckles and his feathery kisses as the two of you hid away to have your thirst in the gardens. "Can't we just run, Megumi?"

"I would, if I could," he gazed at you with a steadfast resolve. "Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess, somehow."

This love is difficult. But it's real.

But so was your father. And his will. In the summer of your coming of age, it was decided that you were going to marry Zen'in Naoya.

Your love story with Megumi... would it end just like that?

"Please, don't go!" you begged. You could hardly believe this situation right now. What did he say? End things here—?

Megumi felt his heart clench. "It's been announced already. You are to marry him. We can... no longer do this."

"But!" you argued. "You s-said... you would find a way out of it somehow..."

Your eyes glazed over, and Megumi had to look away to keep his heart from breaking completely. "I'm sorry."

At the end of the day, he was still a mere son of the branch family and stood no chance against Naoya. If you were to become the bride of his cousin, even he had to respect that.

Your heart shattered into pieces. This day had been looming on the horizon, and you'd been aware of it for some time. Your father didn't exactly conceal his greed with how he insisted on your marriage to Naoya to secure your position as the clan's main wife, instead of Megumi.

Yet it still hurt. You didn’t expect your happiness to he this fleeting, and you were disappointed that Megumi didn’t exactly fight his way through this.

“It’s… for your own good,” he added, and grimaced when he saw how you started sobbing. “I don’t want to compromise your virtue. It'll get ugly fast if people think that we're having… dalliances. You deserve better—”

"Don't patronize me!" you yelled. "Don't t-try... to tell me how to feel!"

Frankly, you never cared about virtues or anything. Most of choices made in your life weren't yours, and if you could finally make a decision through jeopardizing your fickle reputation, then so be it.

"I love you too much to let that happen," Megumi said then, baring his own feelings, that he too, didn't want this any more than you did. "You know I would do anything for you."

"All there's left to do is run," you sniffled. "If you would do anything for me, you would run with me."

Just say yes, your little heart screamed. You stared at him through your wet lashes, desperately willing him to just forget all this nonsense about family, virtue, and just choose love—your love.

But he never did. That day, he decided to leave you. This love was indeed difficult, but you really thought it was real, and now you had never felt so alone.

Days went by longer after that. Now that it had been announced to the public, as per Naoya’s will, you would move into the Zen’in estate until the day of your marriage. You resented and barely knew him, and your gut feeling was proven true when he smirked before you, pulling you into one of the hidden compartments of this godforsaken place.

“Don’t think I didn’t know about what you and he were up to,” he spat viciously. “You should’ve already known that you are always meant to be my wife—and what did you do? You’re putting me to shame as you and that lesser bastard run around.”

“He would always be better than you,” you bitterly scoffed.

“Get it through your head already, you’re to become my wife, and that’s final.”

“You can’t do anything if I don’t want to anyway. Beware of upcoming scandals in the future.”

And with that, came the first day of your misery. Naoya locked you up in that desolate place.

You were missing.

Megumi had noticed it for quite a while. Even if you were no longer his, his heart still longed for yours, and ultimately he wanted to make sure if you were okay. You moving in into his home should increase the chances of him seeing you, and yet, it was as if you had disappeared into the thin air.

It was an understatement to say that he was just worried. He knew Naoya wasn’t exactly the kindest in this household, but he really expected him to at least treat you right.

He still remembered how the tears fell from your beautiful eyes, telling him not to go. Megumi was as heartbroken as you, if not more. He had the choice when you asked him to run, yet he willingly stopped and did what he believed to be the right thing.

Was this still the right thing though?

As the maids hurried past, yelling something that vaguely sounded like your name and the phrase "starving herself!", Megumi felt his blood run cold. Without hesitation, he forcefully grabbed one of them, demanding answers.

“Where is she? What happened to her?”

The maid merely cowered with worry and fear. “Master Naoya… specifically instructed us not to let the miss pass freely…”

Megumi didn’t quite recall what he did, but he couldn't forget the frantic pounding of his heart as he rushed through the gardens to find you in the small room tucked away in the farthest corner of the vast compound, near the servants' dormitory. He practically tore the door off its hinges when he opened it.

You abruptly spun around to face the commotion, thinking that it may be your shitty fiancé, utterly bewildered.

Megumi scrutinized you closely, and gradually, he could feel his anger simmering beneath the surface.

You were pale, your hair was a disheveled mess, but what truly infuriated him was the sight of your broken nails and the dried blood. All he could think of was that you probably tried to claw your way out of this place.

"Megumi?" your voice sounded too hoarse to his liking. You looked at him as if you couldn't believe he was real. His heart shattered.

He shouldn't have left you. He should've run with you. You shouldn't have to be alone and hurt like this.

"Save me," you croaked with small voice, eyes brimming with unshed tears and fear.

That did it. When he heard the approaching rapid footsteps, he made the swiftest, life-changing decision of his life.

He caught a hold of your arm, and pinned you to the wall. And when the entirety of the household arrived in your doorstep, Naoya included, he made it a show as if the two of you were having the most scandalous tryst of the town.

"This ends here," he grunted, casting a glare at his rotten cousin. "I'm marrying her."

"I got tired of waiting, you know," you giggled, peering at your beloved's sullen face. "My faith faded at one point."

Megumi hummed, clasping his hand in yours. "I'm sorry."

You rolled your eyes, staring at the clear waters under the cruise. "I kept waiting, but you never came... and when you did, you caused us to make the headlines."

Your wedding to Megumi was both the grand event and scandal of the year. The sudden change of groom on such short notice triggered disapproving glances from most of the people you knew in this infuriating town, but frankly, you didn't care.

"I thought you wouldn't fight for me at all,” you mumbled, fiddling with your fingers.

"I've always believed that if it would make you happy in the end, I would be fine with it," Megumi said, gently tucking your hair behind your ear as the wind swept by.

"And then? What made you finally let go of that righteous, self-sacrificing thoughts?"

The softest smile was graced his lips. "I love you, and that's all I really know."

You didn't give a damn about what anyone else had to say because, in this moment—as you sailed on your honeymoon cruise, and throughout this love story, from your childhood and forevermore, he is the prince, and you are his princess.

#fushiguro megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fanfic #fushiguro megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro fluff #HSHAHA i don’t know anymore #i legit repost it THREE times so it’ll show up in the tags #this is so cheesy overall aHSHSHS

[kinokoshoujoart]

Marrying Carter in Harvest Moon DS Cute! (North American version)

oh… sorry no not the archaeologist, i mean Pastor Carter from Mineral Town!

(or is it Pastor Curdy….?)

teeechnically his descendant, and it causes a game over… but this is the only time we’ve been able to marry him right?

so in the girl version of HMDS, there’s two “secret” Mineral Town bachelors that you can marry by talking to them enough times on the phone. one is Mason, the guy who runs May’s Tailoring… but the second, Pastor Carter, is a bit more obscure…

i couldn’t find them uploaded anywhere so here are his 2nd* thru 10th conversations+his proposal+proposal rejection in english! if you want to see it on youtube instead here you go

*i failed to record the first conversation when it happened, and there’s no way in hell i’m resetting my whole game again (…yet), so…just know the first one was like “oh you want to talk? what should we talk about…….. …… ….. …. i can’t think of anything. well see ya………” extremely riveting stuff

he’s so obscure that i didn’t even realize that he was a bachelor until i found out about the mechanic from this japanese wiki!! (here’s an archive link to the page on him in case the page doesn’t work) all i did was test whether it worked in english since i couldn’t find any english info at all mentioning it. i’m sure others have found him… right……..

in case the links above don’t work, a small guide to holy matrimony below the cut since i can’t find one in english

it works essentially the same as the Mason marriage (so it’s just a game over, sadly…), and the steps are pretty tedious and counterintuitive, so you’re unlikely to just stumble across it… but you too can get a priest to break his vow of celibacy for you or whatever!

you will need:

at least 2,050,000 G

20 cursed tools/accessories

if you really don’t want to dig up 20 cursed things you can substitute 100x “remove a cursed tool/accessory” for blessing a cursed tool…

but, including all the cursed tools and accessories, there’s only 16… which means you will need to go dig up 4 duplicate cursed accessories using this method! yay!!! extremely pointless since you can’t sell blessed accessories until after marriage in DS for girl (at which point you can’t trigger pastor carter’s proposal)

you unlock a conversation with cardi when you spend at least 205,000 G. which means the quickest thing to do is to order removal of a cursed item five times, then bless 2 cursed items.

**be careful when blessing accessories to only equip one at a time!!! if you equip a stack of duplicate accessories, blessing that stack destroys the duplicates!!!! :( so just take 1 out of the stack and equip it!!!**

you also can’t unlock more conversations until you’ve seen the one you unlocked, so like even if you spend a million G you’ll just unlock one conversation, and you’ll need to finish that conversation and then spend 205,000 G to unlock the next one…yeah….

on the tenth conversation he abruptly reveals that he’s fallen in love with you and asks you to marry him! it ends your game, but….! on the bright side, it ends your game!!! you’re finally free from Hell Simulator!!!!

#my art #why is his name localized as CURDY….. #i was making fun of it being cardi in the japanese version but……. CURDY #bokumono #harvest moon #story of seasons #harvest moon ds #harvest moon ds:cute #harvest moon ds cute #hmds #hmds cute #pastor carter #now everyone knows i always name my farm ram ranch. shameful #ladies……. he’s broke and possibly an alcoholic….(can we save him?) #the proposal really comes out of nowhere lmao #i’m sorry i’m still not over this his name is CURDY…… aaaaaaaagh #pastor carter is such a funky little guy to me. i have him in my acnh town he has a basement full of flame machines and a single wheelchair #why did the video crop like that when i appended the recordings together. i’m getting so old #sorry for the excessive babygirlism my tablet works again and i went a little ham #of course marrying a man of god causes the game to end. since the programming language for hmds is ancient evil curses #heh….. hex code

[jinnyeo]

不浄な結婚 UNHOLY MATRIMONY

Fem reader x Gojo x Geto x Sukuna x Choso

╰┈➤ They all had always been obsessed with you from the moment they laid their eyes on you.

Masterlist | Wattpad link

CHAPTER ONE

Chapter content: Mild abuse

WC: 4.2k

You were set to marry Naoya Zenin, the very man you despised your entire life. In the quietness of the Zenin household, the air was thick with tension as you sat in your new room, you were adorned in your finest kimono for your marriage.

From a young age, your parents had set to marry Naoya Zenin. He was always there, his presence looming over you like a dark cloud. Even as children he was obsessed with you, a fact that both disgusted and frightened you.

Born into a noble family, you were known as the most beautiful woman in Japan, desired by many. However, Naoya's obsession with you turned your life into a nightmare. He destroyed your reputation, tainted your purity, and ensured that no other man would want you.

You were trapped, with no choice but to marry him.

Now as the day of your wedding approached, the dread that filled your heart was suffocating. The thought of spending your life bound to a man you despised was almost too much to bear. Yet, you knew that this was your fate, chosen for you by your parents, leaving you with a future that seemed bleak and devoid of any happiness.

In a few minutes, you were going to be the wife of Naoya Zenin. Despite your hatred for him, you wanted to fulfil your parents dreams of being allies with the Zenin clan, you just wanted to make your parents happy for the first time. So with a heavy heart, you wiped away your tears with the forever of your kimono before putting down your wedding veil.

The wedding ceremony began, and you walked down the aisle, the red carpets contrasting with your kimono. As you reached the stairs, you took a seat in front of Naoya Zenin, unable to summon the courage to look up at him. The air was heavy with tension as he lifted your veil, revealing your face to him and sealing your fate in a marriage you never wanted.

"You look beautiful as ever Y/N" Naoya's voice cut through the music. His words only served to deepen the resentment and disgust you felt towards him.

Ignoring Naoya's comment, you reached for the cup of tea in front of you and handed it to him. Without a word, you then picked up your own cup and took a sip, the bitterness of the tea matching the bitterness in your heart.

With the tea ceremony complete, you were now officially married to Naoya Zenin and the new lady of the Zenin clan.

Throughout the entire wedding ceremony, you remained seated in your chair, a silent figure of a ruined beauty. You didn't gaze at anyone, nor did you speak a word. Ever since Naoya tainted your reputation, everyone had abandoned you, unwilling to associate with someone they deemed tainted and immoral. Left with no one by your side, you endured the ceremony in silence while watching everyone praise and cheer on your so called husband.

Finally, the ceremony came to an end, and as you stood to leave your mother approached your side. "Remember what I told you Y/N" She whispered, her voice lacking any empathy, it was cold and empty as always.

You turned to look at your mother, her face was stone-cold with no expression. You looked at her with pleading and sorrowful eyes that screamed the words of help, about to open your mouth to say something.

But then Naoya's butler came. "Lord Zenin is waiting for you in the wedding chambers" He said.

Before you left your mother had put her hand on your shoulder. "At least try to please your husband" She said.

Your mother had always been neglectful of you, treating you more like an obligation than a daughter. Her lack of care and concern had been constant in your life, leaving you feeling unloved and unseen.

You were always aware that you were unwanted by both your mother and father. Your mother was the first and legal wife of your father, your mother's repeated attempts to conceive a male heir failed, resulting in you- a mere woman and a burden to your family name. Your mother neglected you, wishing you were a male instead because this failure led your father to take on multiple concubines, distancing himself from your mother and you. Finally your father had succeeded in fathering three sons with his beloved concubine, forgetting about you and your mother. Your father had abandoned you and your mother within the family walls, you guys were nothing but mere ghosts with everyone ignoring the both of you.

The only success you could bring to your family was earning the title of the most beautiful woman and marrying into the Zenin clan. It was the only moment your father acknowledged you, recognizing you for your beauty and the advantage your beauty could take you. You had secured multiple marriage proposals from high ranking noble families. Your father had used your reputation to his advantage, he used you to climb up the ranks, he pretended to love and cherish you in front of others but in reality that was far from the truth because you were still and would always be nothing but a failure in his eyes.

Your father was more than happy to see you bring power to your family name. So, he was more than happy to marry you off to someone with high ranking like Naoya Zenin.

So now here you were, holding back tears as you walked towards the wedding chambers, multiple maids followed behind you. You knew not one of them would ever pledge their loyalty to you because they were the property of Naoya Zenin, they only and will ever follow your husbands orders, never yours.

Once you entered the wedding chambers, the maids immediately began to undress you, carefully removing your wedding kimono and the multiple hair ornaments that were in your hair. They stripped you down to your wedding night attire, all while brushing out your hair.

"Lord Zenin is here!" A voice yelled from outside the room, signaling Naoya's arrival. As you clenched down onto your inner cheek, you watched your maids all walk out, leaving you in the room alone. The sound of the door closing echoed in the silence, and you were left to face Naoya on your own.

You sat on the bed, watching Naoya walk in, a sense of dread settling over you. As he approached, you couldn't help but plead silently for this night to be over quickly.

To your surprise, you watched Naoya kneel down in front of you. He took your hand, kissing it gently. "Your so beautiful Y/N" He said, his actions had caught you off guard as he looked up at you with those slick green eyes you once fell for.

Naoya was a man full of arrogance and power, always ensuring that everyone knew their place beneath him. He was cocky and always abused his powers. He demanded respect and obedience from everyone below him, making sure that everyone kissed his feet to maintain his position of authority.

Yet here he was, Naoya Zenin kneeling in front of you.

"N-Naoya, are you drunk?" You stumbled over your words, unable to process the fact that he was kneeling in front of you. "Get up, you can't be seen like this" His behavior was so out of character that it left you questioning his motives, unsure of what to make of this unexpected gesture.

"Can I not worship my wife?" Naoya replied, his tone soft yet firm. His words caught you off guard.

There was silence in the room for a bit, the weight of Naoya's words hanging in the air between you.

"Can we just... get this night over and done with Naoya" You said, unable to meet his gaze.

"Why do you always think of me negatively Y/N?" Naoya said, his voice carrying a hint of sadness. Despite this, you ignored it, convinced that it was just another one of his manipulative games.

"How could you ask me something like that?" You snapped back, your brows furrowed in anger. The audacity of his question, the way he seemed to expect you to overlook all the pain and suffering he had caused you, infuriated you.

"All I've ever done was love you Y/N" He sighed, resting his head on your lap. You felt a mix of emotions, anger, frustration, and perhaps a hint of pity.

"You don't even know what love is" You replied, the words coming out sharper than intended.

"I've done everything for you Y/N" He said. "I bought you everything, the most expensive jewels, kimonos, and ornaments. I even built your own private estate here. But you still won't return my feelings and see me as your husband." His words were filled with frustration and hurt.

It was true that Naoya loved you. Throughout the years, he had stayed by your side, his love suffocating. However, what he didn't know was that you were disgusted by his love. His perception of love was different from yours. Naoya was obsessive, going to great lengths to ensure you would always be his, but in a way that felt like you were his hostage rather than loving.

He would send people to follow you, watch you, and report back to him. Naoya's obsession with you was evident even from a young age. When he found out he was betrothed to you at the mere age of 11, he spent seven years building your own private estate within the Zenin walls, all to your liking.

Naoya's obsession with you reached such heights that when you came of age and garnered the attention of many suitors, he grew incredibly jealous. To ensure that no one else could have you, he began spreading rumors that you had lost your virginity to him. These rumors tainted your reputation, causing men to stop courting you, believing you to be impure and immoral.

Left with no other options, you were forced into a marriage with Naoya, trapped with a man you despised.

"Please Y/N" Naoya begged, desperation evident in his voice. "Why can't you love me back?" His words were filled with a longing for something that seemed unattainable, a plea for a love that you could never return to him.

"You are a man who doesn't know what love is Naoya" You suddenly said, your voice firm. "You are not capable of loving me, you're just infatuated with the thought of me. You don't love me" Words began spilling out of you. Naoya's love was not true, it was a twisted obsession that left you feeling trapped and suffocated.

"No..." Naoya stood up, his expression desperate. "Is it the concubines I have? I'll get rid of them all for you" His offer was sincere, a last-ditch effort to win your affection. But you knew that even without the concubines, his love would remain the same. Selfish and possessive.

"You can take on as many concubines as you can, you can sleep with them as much as you want Naoya. But at the end of the day, no matter what good or bad thing you do towards me, my feelings for you will always stay the same. I can't love you Naoya, I can never love a man who ruined my life, I can't give you the love you want so please just give up on me!" You finally snapped, standing up to face him as he hovered above you. "We both know that this is just a political marriage Naoya, please don't bring love and feelings into this. I can't be a wife who loves you, but I can be a wife who can bear you a son, and that's all I can do for you"

Naoya's expression was a mix of shock and hurt, his eyes searching yours for any hint of a lie. But you stood your ground, your words final and resolute. The truth was painful, but it needed to be said.

"You...you" Naoya muttered, he then looked down at you with a dark and intense look in his eyes. It was almost like you flipped a switched in him and it terrified you.

Suddenly you felt his strong grip on your neck, you gasped in shock as Naoya's grip tightened around your neck, you struggled to breathe, fear and shock coursing through you. His eyes, once filled with adoration now bore into you with a cold and menacing glare. You tried to pry his hand away, but his strength was overpowering.

"Naoya....please!" You managed to gasp, your voice strained. But he remained silent, his expression unreadable as he continued to tighten his grip. Panic surged within you as you realized the gravity of the situation. This man, whom you were bound to by marriage, now held your life in his hands.

Just as you felt yourself starting to lose consciousness, Naoya suddenly released his grip, stepping back and letting you fall to the floor gasping for air. He stood over you with his chest heaving, a mix of anger and hurt evident in his eyes.

"You will love me sooner or later Y/N" Naoya said, he looked down at you with those dark and intense eyes. His words sent a shiver down your spine, his tone menacing and full of intent.

With that, Naoya turned and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. As you lay on the ground you gulped, trying to catch your breath, your hand instinctively reaching for the spot on your neck where Naoya had choked you. Tears welled up in your eyes. No matter how hard you tried, you could never escape Naoya's obsessive grip.

You had spent your wedding night all alone on the floor. The night passed in a blur of tears and despair as you lay curled up on the ground.

As the morning light shone through the windows of your chambers, you sat in front of the mirror, your reflection stared back at you with that same sorrowful and dull face full of nothing but sadness. Your maids busied themselves around you, dressing you in a delicate floral kimono and adorning your hair with luxurious ornaments. They tried to conceal the redness and puffiness of your eyes with powder.

"Get the carriage ready" You suddenly said, ignoring your maids surprised looks, you got up from the chair and walked towards the door.

Two maids ended up accompanying you from behind. As you were about to reach the carriage, your eyes were drawn to a scene that froze you in place. There, hand in hand with another woman, was Naoya Zenin.

You brushed off the sight of Naoya Zenin with another woman. You reasoned that she might be one of his concubines, dressed in luxurious kimono befitting her status.

"Lady Zenin, please do not worry" A maid spoke up from behind you, her voice soft and comforting. "You are the lady of the house, she is just a mere concubine"

You turned around and were met with a young girl who couldn't have been older than 16. She stood before you, petite and fragile. "What's your name?" You asked.

"H-Hana" She stumbled over her words, clearly nervous in your presence. "I've been assigned to serve only you my lady"

You silently stared at Hana, her words echoing in your mind. Despite her seemingly innocent demeanor, you couldn't shake the feeling of distrust that lingered within you. Was she truly here to serve you, or was she merely a pawn in Naoya's game? The thought gnawed at you, leaving you wary of the young girl standing before you.

You took a deep breath, continuing to walk to the front gate. Yet the heavens seemed to be against you as you would have to walk past Naoya first. With a stoic demeanour, you walked past Naoya, ignoring him as best as you could. Just as you thought you had successfully avoided him, he called out your name.

"Y/N" His voice cut through the air, stopping you in your tracks. Despite your reluctance, you turned to face him.

You sighed. Stopping in your tracks, you turned around to meet Naoya's gaze, only also feel the intense lingering stare of the other woman wrapped in his arms.

"My lord" You said, bowing to Naoya.

"Where are you going?" Naoya's voice cut through the air, his tone unreadable.

"To the city centre" You replied, keeping your tone neutral. Avoiding Naoya's gaze, you hoped to end the conversation quickly and continue on your way.

"Oh, do you mind if Emi and I accompany you?" Naoya's voice dripped with mockery, and you could hear the chuckles of the woman beside him.

With a forced smile, you agreed to Naoya's request, though every fiber of your being resisted. "The more the merrier" You said, masking your true feelings.

"Great, I'll get my driver" Naoya said, releasing the woman beside him and then tightly grabbing your hand. You flinched at his touch, a shiver of discomfort running down your spine.

The whole ride was full of tension. You sat bundled up in the corner, the distant laughter of the woman who had snuggled up in between Naoya's arms echoing in your ears.

Finally, the carriage arrived at the city center. Naoya was the first to step out, and he reached his hand out to help you. However, you ignored his hand and stepped out of the carriage on your own. After you, Emi got out and ran to Naoya's side, seeking his attention once again.

"A wife who does not want to accompany her husband?" Naoya's voice was laced with amusement as he snickered. His words were like a knife, cutting through the already strained atmosphere between you.

"You have enough company by your side" You said, your tone calm but firm. You ignored Emi's gaze, refusing to be drawn into any drama within the walls. All you wanted was to fade into the background, to live your marriage in peace without the burden of Naoya's relationships weighing you down.

"And here I thought you would succumb to jealousy Naoya remarked, his tone mocking.

"Naoya, I'm here to buy gifts not to chatter with you" You sighed, trying to keep the conversation as brief as possible. The less interaction you had with Naoya, the better.

"Gifts? For whom?" Naoya raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued at the thought of you knowing anyone else apart from him.

"My father" You replied curtly.

"Your father? He already has the power he wants after you married me, what else could he possibly need?" Naoya replied. "Hm, I guess instead of a gift for your father, we should buy you jewels"

"Naoya... I already have so much" You sighed.

"No, my wife will only have the most expensive and fine jewels. It's never enough" Naoya insisted, his tone firm.

So, here you were, walking behind Naoya and Emi as they led you to reknown jewellery shop in the heart of Tokyo.

You felt out of place in the jewelry shop, surrounded by married couples in love while you stood there looking like a mere maid, awkwardly holding your own hand as Naoya and Emi held hands like teenagers in love.

"What would you like to get for your wife?" The shopkeeper said, completely ignoring you and looking towards Emi, assuming she was the wife. You felt invisible, a mere bystander in your own life.

Naoya suddenly took your hand by surprise, pushing Emi away to the side. "You remember the woman I bought all those jewels for last week?" He asked, looking at you with what seemed like love. But you ignored him, maintaining your stone gaze.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Lord Zenin. I thought that other lady was the new Lady of the Zenin House" Fhe shopkeeper apologized, realizing his mistake.

"Give me the most expensive necklace that would suit my Y/N. I only want my wife to wear the most lavish ones" Naoya instructed, his tone commanding.

Naoya let you go, turning his attention to the multiple pieces the shopkeeper showed him. Meanwhile, you gazed out, losing concentration, lost in your thoughts and emotions, feeling trapped in a life you never wanted.

You wished someone, anyone, could save you from this life, from the suffocating marriage and the emptiness that consumed you. But you knew deep down that there was no one coming to rescue you right?

You were gazing out, lost in your thoughts, when your attention snapped back at the sound of an unfamiliar voice from behind you. "Bring out Yuji" The voice said to the clerk.

You didn't know what came over you, but you suddenly turned your head to the side and were met with the sight of icy blue eyes and white hair.

His presence was like a beacon in the room, drawing everyone's attention. Dressed in the attire of a high-ranking noble, his aura screamed power and authority. His unique features, with his striking face and ethereal appearance, made him stand out as if he were an angel among mortals.

His gaze met yours, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to disappear. It was just the two of you, locked in a moment that felt suspended in time. You could see the curiosity in his eyes, the flicker of interest, but also something else, something you couldn't quite place.

As you felt someone touch your arm, your attention snapped back to Naoya. You turned to look at him, momentarily forgetting the presence of the man. Naoya's expression was unreadable, his eyes searching yours as if trying to decipher your thoughts.

"I called you 3 times Y/N" Naoya said.

"Forgive me, I must have been lost in thought" You replied, meeting Naoya's gaze with a forced smile.

"Isn't this necklace beautiful Y/N?" Naoya said, showing you the lavish necklace adorned with sapphire, shaped like a butterfly.

"Yes" You replied absentmindedly, your thoughts still lingering about the mystery man.

"Zenin" The familiar voice said from behind you. You could feel his presence strongly, close behind you. Inching your head slightly back, you looked up at him, your eyes immediately locking as you felt your heart flutter.

"Your... majesty..." Naoya gritted his teeth as he bowed to the male. You also stopped in your tracks and immediately turned towards the male bowing to him, not realizing the man behind you was possibly the emperor.

"What are you doing outside the palace... are you not afraid someone would try to assassinate you again?" Hatred was evident in Naoya's tone.

"Enough questions, Naoya. I'm glad I met you here" The man said, his eyes lingering on you as you gulped by his intense eyes. "So, this is the infamous Y/N Zenin?" His eyes never leaving your body.

"What do you want Gojo?" Naoya finally snapped, grabbing your arm and forcing you against his chest as you gasped.

"Wow, already dropping the honorifics?" The male laughed amusingly.

"Cut the bullshit Gojo. You never talk to me unless you want something," Naoya retorted, his grip tightening on you possessively.

"What? Are you afraid that I would take your beautiful wife?" He laughed. "You're not entirely wrong Naoya" He said with a smirk.

"Y-you" Naoya snapped, about to take out his katana, but Emi stopped him by throwing herself on him, hugging his chest tightly.

"Naoya don't! Not here" Emi screamed, gathering more attention as they all watched the scene unfold between the emperor and Zenin head.

"Naoya Zenin, you really are a shameless man" He mocked. "Naoya Zenin, you're a despicable man. I heard rumors that you managed to marry the beautiful yet immoral daughter of the L/N family. But here you are, taking advantage of your wife's love and taking in concubines" He said.

Naoya's eyes flashed with anger. "You bastard, how dare you speak like that in front of my wife" He spat out.

You felt cold hands cup your chin, gently lifting your face to meet his icy blue eyes. Your heart skipped a beat as your faces were mere inches apart.

"It's a shame to see you lose your purity over a man like Naoya" He said, his voice almost a whisper, sending chills down your spine. "You should have picked an emperor over a lord" He added, his tone cutting through the air like a blade as whispers began erupting in the store.

@jinnyeo

I’ll be publishing chapters rlly slow on tumblr, but wattpad is where I publish on.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #satoru gojo #toji fushiguro #toji smut #choso smut #choso x reader #geto fanfic #jjk choso #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic #geto smut #geto x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna

[blues824]

Hello. Can I request Muzan, Douma, Akaza, Daki and Gyutaro (separately) with human S/O, who willingly help them for two reasons: first, their love towards them, and second, the fact that they f*cking hate people (lol, I really shouldn't watch YGOTAS that much)?

I am so sorry for how late this is. Also, imma make it so that you are married to them because I had no idea how else to execute this. Also also, kind of OOC, but eh.

Also also also, I hate people as well. All my readers are exceptions tho.

Muzan Kibutsuji

“My love, why are you so willing to help me?” He asked after you already went through most of his task list by yourself. You were even willing to lay down your own life for him if it ever came to that point. But why??

“Well, because I love you. In our wedding vows, I vowed that I would support you in any way that I could. I also just hate people” You responded honestly. Even if you had a horrible past, people just sucked in general.

Muzan seemed satisfied by your answer, responding by putting his hands on the side of your waist and pulling you in for a kiss. It was small moments like these with your husband that you treasured the most.

“Darling, on our wedding day, you looked so ethereal. As if you were a snow monarch in the midst of the stars of the night sky” He whispered into your ear. He always managed to make your heart squeeze in adoration for him.

“And you looked so unbelievably handsome, I was nervous about tripping on the aisle because I was so distracted.” You giggled as you looked into your husband’s eyes. He had a smile gracing his lips. It wasn’t normal for you both to be seen as lovey-dovey, but that doesn’t mean it never happens

Douma 

As a result of being joined together in matrimony, it only made sense that his followers became your followers as well. While being praised as a deity definitely has its perks, it was a lot to get used to in such a short amount of time. Especially if you weren’t particularly fond of humankind.

“Y/N, how are you adjusting to being the spouse of a highly worshiped demon?” He asked with a smile. We all know that he’s genuinely apathetic, but when he saw you for the first time… Alexa, play This Is What Falling In Love Feels Like by JVKE. 

“It’s a lot to adjust to, if I’m being honest. All the worship is a lot to handle. You know how much I don’t like people” You let out a weak laugh as you gave him your answer. He had a frown on his face as you said it. He pulled you into a hug and placed a kiss on your temple.

“On our very special day, I vowed that I would protect you and provide for you. If you don’t tell me these things, then I’m not doing my job as your husband.” He whispered to you. He felt like he failed you. Why wouldn’t you tell him something like this?

“You are doing a wonderful job as my husband, honey. It’s your followers that are the problem. I understand that you would get praise, but I would rather not have it.” Douma made a mental note to warn his followers that if they were so much as to breathe in your direction from now on, they would meet their end.

Akaza

He has forgotten what the word home meant before he met you. You were just so loving and you acted like his rock that kept him stable. You gave him a purpose other than becoming stronger. This is how he knew that he absolutely needed to marry you. However, you were still human.

“Baby, do you ever miss your family?” He asked as he saw you making something in the kitchen of your shared home. Times like these are times he can mistake you both as being a normal married couple in a normal house with normal lives. 

“You are my family.” You didn’t look up, instead you continued chopping the vegetables you were making for the stew. You knew that Akaza wasn’t able to consume it, but you were still human. “You’re the only one I need.”

“Yes, but before me you had a life with your friends and family. Surely you must miss them, or at least hold some resentment towards me?” You always hated when he would get insecure because he never saw how great he treated you compared to the people from your past.

“If I had to choose between you and my family, I would choose you no matter what. We made a vow to stick with each other for better, for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health.” He seemed happy with your answer, as he gave you a kiss on your shoulder and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind.

Daki

We all know how much of a child she is, but when you agreed to marry her, it increased by a lot. She became super clingy because of her past. However, you don’t mind. I mean, you knew you would never be treated horribly by her because of it. But she still has her insecurities.

“Sweetie, why are you still with me? You’re human, and you had a life before I took you away from it.” She ended her tangent with a sad sigh. It pained you to see her so blue, so you knelt in front of her and took her hands in yours.

“I’m still with you because we’re married and it’s not that easy to leave. I also love you and hate humans.” You said with a soft smile. Memories of your wedding day flashed through your mind: your wife (then fiance) was so beautiful in the white kimono. Gyutaro was sobbing in the front.

“If you could, would you ever go back?” She asked. She had never felt so sad, because she knew that she originally didn’t really give you a choice in the whole matter. Wasn’t marriage supposed to be a mutual agreement between both parties?

“Absolutely not. Instead, I would go back so that I could be the one to ask you to marry me. I love you, Daki. I wouldn’t give up what we have for the world.” You whispered. She had shed a few tears during your ‘speech’. Then she pulled you into her lap (she’s strong, your size doesn’t matter) and squeezed you tightly.

Gyutaro

If you think Daki was clingy, you haven’t seen anything yet. Sure at first he was extremely distant, but when you reassured him that you weren’t leaving he held on for dear life. If his hand isn’t in yours, his whole arm is around your waist.

“Baby, why don’t you leave me? You’ve always stuck by my side, but why?” Even if he was super powerful, he still had those days of doubt. And on those days, you would make him lay his head in your lap and run your fingers through his hair while you tell him the reasons why you love him.

“Let’s see… because you’re the most handsome, loving, amazing husband that I could ever ask for. You protect me, love me, and make good on your promises to me that you made at our wedding.” With each thing you listed, Gyutaro’s blush worsened more and more.

“But you could do so much better than settling down with me. You’re graceful, kind, and a good listener.” He rambled on and on. Once he got going, it was hard for him to stop. It saddened you that you couldn’t just reach in and extract all self-deprecating thoughts from his mind.

“Gyu, I chose you for a reason. If I didn’t want to marry you, I wouldn’t have said yes when you proposed. I wouldn’t have said I do after our vows. I love you, Gyutaro. Now, accept it.” You jokingly threatened. You always knew how to make him feel better.

#demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny x reader #kny #muzan kibutsuji #muzan kibutsuji x reader #muzan x reader #muzan #douma #douma x reader #akaza #akaza x reader #daki #daki x reader #gyutaro #gyutaro x reader #gn reader #g/n reader

[its-actually-minicika]

The Harshest Winters (18+!)

Part 4;;

Pairing(s): Jacaerys x Reader x bookcanon Aemond;

Warnings: all of them lmao - dubious consent, canon typical violence, lack of Jacaerys, death, blood and gore, Aemond - who forces the reader into holy matrimony in this one (oh yes it's happening), and of course engages in petty masturbation (it's not THW without him going ham on his own hand ♡)

Word Count: 15k+ (wowza i know)

Author's Note: Low and behold, part 4 is here!! Originally, this was supposed to be a 4 parts series, but that obviously isn't the case anymore. THIS TOOK SO LONG AND I'M SO SORRY - I had major issues with the tag list, and at some point, tumblr wouldn’t let me post this; I unfortunately couldn't solve those problems, no matter how hard I tried, so most of you haven't been properly tagged :") This update is a hot mess, and I haven't actually had the time to read through all the paragraphs that I wrote. I SHALL BE BACK TO EDIT

A huge thank you to everyone who's still following the story, though, and I hope you enjoy!

A war is in its midst.

When everyone else is readying themselves for the following decisive battles, you and Aemond are busy playing house.

Things get heated in Harrenhal, and one must decide when and where to pick their side.

The contact of the hot water upon Aemond’s ivory skin made the man shudder in naught but blinding pain. Achingly slow movements, followed by slow grunts echoed throughout the room – and Lady Tully stilled upon the silken sheets, moving her eyes over the book’s page for the thousandth time since he returned; thus driving all her peace away.

The baths Aemond determinedly took in the raptures of the late-night hours never failed to make her uncomfortable, and keep her on edge. Even so, being forced to hear the pained man move with such little stability and lack of confidence almost teetered the girl to the brink of madness.

Harrenhal had been in shambles since its proud conqueror beckoned his return on dragon back that very eve. Two young maids shouted for maesters, and Alys Rivers nearly caused a scene. As he got off his leather saddle, the Prince all but collapsed from tiredness and blood loss.

'He commanded his features to turn brave and taciturn,' his paramour had told her, 'as to not let a single hint of his condition spread throughout the Keep. My poor Aemond.'

The fool had been reached by an arrow.

An impressive feat, one had to agree – and wonder further on the identity of the courageous shot.

‘Struck right between his shoulder blade and chest,’ she had heard some lost girl utter, ‘It is a miracle he’s still alive.’

… Or the Gods’ cruelest punishment, the Lady compelled within her thoughts.

“Mmhh…” Aemond’s rugged breath deterred the girl to raise her glassy orbs from the confinement of the wilting pages. She schooled her eyes to stay above any level of indiscretion, and gingerly followed the trail of blood mixed with dirt, that seeped into and dirtied the once clear water.

Now that her curiosity was quenched, she could freely look away again.

Half a heartbeat later, she relented and surrendered in the face of his quarrelsome state. The Prince bit the inside of his cheek again, and raised his hand up to allow droplets of liquid to trail past his wounded shoulder… but to no avail.

“You could call in a maid, you know.” Her raspy voice descended upon his struggling body. Sooner than she may have liked, the Bliss of Riverrun closed her eyes, and concentrated on the languid noises that the Prince was making.

Seconds felt like pending minutes, until Aemond One-Eye graced her with a reply.

“I don’t need a maid to help me.”

Then that was that, the young woman soon concluded, returning her attention to the opened book.

'The Philosophies of the Riverlands', however, provided little to no aid to the situation at hand – and her overall station.

For she knew, perhaps far too well, that she had to play a different game than the one they'd engaged in, months prior to her imprisonment in that cursed place.

Insufferable man… she vexed him cruelly inside her head, I hoped by now you would be dead.

She raised one leg from the mattress that embedded her, and shifted it, so as to allow her limbs to hang lowly by the edge of the bed. Her thoughts formed and went as they pleased, but the girl settled on one final reach.

He hadn't even allowed Alys to help him undress. Suggesting her now was a deliberate waste of her time.

Not only that, but she still had to win his trust. Somehow, she promised herself, no matter what it takes, she'd do it.

Forcibly she rose from the bed, and made her way slowly towards his wide basin, fixating her eyes on the stone floor ahead. Her throat closed in on itself, and the girl pursed her lips into a tight line, whilst exhaling through her nose. It took a while for her to calm herself.

"... What about me?" She asked in a leveled tone.

Her gaze met his piercing orb, and the Lady nearly took a small step back. His face long washed the wave of shock from his sharp, Targaryen features – Aemond awaited her next words with a quirked up brow and a slight bite o'r his inner cheek. He seemed more than interested in her meek suggestion.

His wordless approval had left her speechless and, for a while, only her heartbeat emerged in her ears.

The Prince Regent trailed his eye hungrily over her extended arm. He took in a sharp breath as she grasped the rough sponge from his hand, and drained it of the putrid smell. She confidently brought it up to him – and teasingly trailed it over his hard chest, down to his lower abdomen, up again to his slouching shoulder.

"This… will hurt you a little bit." She whispered to him, skillfully averting her face from the man in question.

He gritted his teeth harshly, and almost let out a groan from his parted lips – with his dexterous and long fingers, he gripped the edge of the wooden basin, but dared not to look away from the kneeling Lady – choosing, instead, to focus on singling out her every soft and hard feature.

On her end, (Y/N) dabbed the piece of cloth over his wound gently, chanting inside her head to remain small and taciturn.

He shan't get more of a reaction from me, she promised herself through the span of an agonized huff, as she focused in on the task at hand.

Aemond's white skin revealed itself from the washed patches of dirt, and the Prince sighed a deep breath of contentment, as he felt his body be unintentionally caressed by her. His eye fluttered close, and a slight furrow of his tantalizing brow indicated the uncommon pleasure he took from their sporadic intimacy.

The two remain in awkward silence - the only noise that reached the girl's ears being the rattle of water and the occasional hiss from Aemond.

"... I'm sorry." She strained herself to whisper, whilst her hair fell seemingly out of place. "This looks as if it's painful."

The Prince Protector mirrored her stance, and glanced at her through the thick curtain of long, silver hair – the lilac in his eye complimenting the heatwaves of fire that danced across his marred skin.

"It's not painful." His gruff voice echoed in reply.

"... You –" The Lady began, but stopped on her tracks to level her voice again, by the aid of coughing in the back of her hand.

"You don't have to pretend in my company, you know."

She graced him with a forced smile, one she hoped seemed light enough to fool him. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't make fun of you."

Her eyes trailed over to the harsh stone floor, wrinkling at their sharpened ends – "When I was three and ten," she began, "My youngest brother betted against one of the stable boys: that he could ride faster than anyone on his horse, Middle." Her eyes spasmed close at the memory, and the girl wistfully smiled to herself, "The fool scraped his knees in that dreadful race. Middle threw him right out of his expensive saddle."

As she spoke, she brought the rough cloth over Aemond's shoulder blade, right above his wound, and began scrubbing the dirt that adorned over his skin.

"He didn’t want anyone to know what had happened, so he made me clean it, in the stead of a maester." The Lady let out an airy laugh, as her nose scrunched up with a pang of fondness. "I have never seen a boy get so worked up over a simple scratch before."

Aemond hummed in admission – half relieved by the distraction she was offering, and half worried by the impending pain he would soon feel. He shifted from inside the basin, as if to reach for the sponge in her hand himself, but the girl simply laid her hand away.

Her musings came to an abrupt end. She retreated on her steps lightly, and offered the Crown Prince a quirked-up brow.

"You need to stay put, Prince Aemond. Otherwise, I risk causing you more harm than good." She swallowed thickly, and only shook her head, "Your wound needs thorough cleaning, Your Grace. And it is too far in the back for you to clean it by yourself."

She glanced at his face anew, and let out a tumbling sigh as he nodded his head again, trying his hardest to relax into her touch once more.

Part of him remained put up – the bulk of his chest and shoulders still gloriously hunched over, ready to bolt up at any given moment.

"... I hate to admit it. I thought he was exaggerating then – with the discomfort which he feigned was feeling."

Her lips pursed into a tight line, as she glanced quickly at the laying man, "But how can one make fun of another's state of pain?"

A sympathetic look was shared between them.

Her eyes softened in admission to his furrowed brows and descended features. In that exact light, she couldn’t help but notice how much he resembled her Jace.

"Pain makes us human. And it's a reminder for us: to really cherish our times of incandescent joy."

The break of a cold sweat kissed over Aemond's forehead; droplets of which gathered at the base of his left eye, where his leather eyepatch stayed secured.

The girl pushed down a disdainful puff, as her eyes trailed him over, from the rosy blotch of skin, back to his hawk-like eye.

"Leather retains heat." She murmured before she could catch herself.

The Targaryen Prince expelled a deep breath, and, as her hand came to rest over the buckle that secured his patch into place, he primed his lips into a downturned arch.

"It can't be good for you to always keep it on."

"The sight of it frightens others. I don't want it to frighten you."

"I've seen you without your eyepatch before."

"That was different. This time… is different."

The latter of his words sent a shiver down her bent spine. Nothing is different, she was aching to say. Her lips pressed anxiously together, and the girl offered Aemond a curt nod. Just as she was about to pull her hand away from the nape of his neck, the Prince's wet palm came up to stop her.

His fingers shakily entwined with hers. The deep callouses of his hand scratched the softness of her open palm.

For a while, Time herself froze before them.

(Y/N) came to avert her gaze, but Aemond's eye feverishly searched for the relieving clash of hers. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and the Lady of Riverrun nearly choked onto the clogged-up air.

His silver locks curled slightly at their ends – the dampness of the room striking its claim over his perfectly straight strands of hair. In his own right, Aemond could be called beautiful. His striking Targaryen features might have ensured the favor of many young maidens, were it not for his rash and impetuous attitude, the bite that rested in his character – which no doubt spread like a disease over his life at Court.

"Look at me." Against his better judgment, and his innermost turmoil, Aemond allowed her small fingers to trail over the buckle of his blinder again. He drew out a comforting sigh, and, with her hand still in his, gently slid the leather off.

He sucked in a quiet breath, as the coldness of the air enveloped his throbbing eyelids.

The poise in his composure was cracking at the seams, with the passing of each second, during which she settled to remain silent.

Eventually, her hand came to rest over his face again. Her dexterous fingers began to leisurely wipe the sweat from his brow, his eye, by submerging them into the lukewarm water, and bringing them over and over to his clenched face.

"I'm sorry." She settled on to say instead, once the breaching of kind words failed to meet her. "No one deserves to be left without an eye. No one deserves such appalling cruelty."

"You appear to be sorry an awful lot this evening, My Lady." Aemond choked under his breath, taken aback by her gentle movements and sainty utter.

"I spend the better part of my days in the company of my own thoughts." She huskily reminded him, "... It's been increasingly easier for me to reflect on my past mistakes."

Wordless from her hoax admission, and desperate to feel her hands explore him further, the Targaryen Prince rose heavily from the dirtied water – his chest coming directly to her field of vision.

The girl let out a cutting gasp, as she turned swiftly on her heel, refusing to glance at his modesty, not any longer than she'd already had.

Her eyelids fluttered close, and she shifted from one foot to the other, but to no avail. For in spite of her desire to run away, the Lady found herself hammered in place.

The proximity between them laid out to be a problem – Aemond let out a frustrated sigh, and turned her head around with the clasping of his untouched arm. Two of his fingers came to rest at the base of her cheek and chin; the Prince let out a satisfied hum, as her body trembled in slight shock at their change of position.

"Gevie…" He muttered to no one but himself.

His cock stood proudly at attention, kissing over his prominent abdomen, trailing long past his belly button. Every now and then, white pearls pooled to the base of his length, weeping from his angry tip, trailing past his stones in the reach of the water below him.

"Look at me." He breathed again, and his sweet Lady obeyed.

She threw him a dejected look: half harsh and cold, half hardened and scorned. The tips of her ears matched the redness of her pale cheeks. Her eyes cast their curious glow throughout every corner of the room, yet stayed away from the scorn of indiscretion that called out to her, only centimeters below her swollen lips.

Aemond's thumb flicked once over her crimson labium, but the man sighed, seemingly discouraged, and settled upon gripping her dainty wrist instead.

"Gaomagon daor sagon zūgagon, issa dōna jorrāelagon. Nyke kivio ao naejot sagon gīda."

The gentleness that oozed from his voice could have had anyone fooled. But not her. The translations of the words he muttered against the skin of her wrist were lost on her, but the Lady of Riverrun still singled out a most protruding word.

He had never failed to call her 'his tormenting love'.

The girl's breath rose and fell with each agonizing word that befell over her face.

"Mēre tubis ao jāhor jaelagon issa." Aemond sighed against her wrist.

'I would sooner die than spread my legs for the Usurper's kin. I would sooner die than spread my legs for the Usurper's kin. I would sooner die than spread my legs for the Usurper's kin.'

Her words rang harsh and true inside her head – and, much like it was back then, her heart harbored no honorable intent towards the Trident's Terror.

He burnt your entire homeland, she chastised herself harshly, He killed thousands. Every day, even more find their end by the breath of his dragon. By the way of his wrath.

The ache in her heartbeat rang loudly inside her ears – her every pore aligned with her wish to run away, and her mind was screaming at her to retreat to a corner.

Comparing him to Jacaerys was a laughable feat.

"Let's… just finish getting you cleaned up, Your Grace" She struggled to finally suggest out loud, through the timid inflection of her outwardly calm voice.

She slithered her face away from his grasp, and began draining the sponge of the dark mud again.

Aemond sighed, and lowered himself back into the cold water – his lone eye never leaving the mould of her smaller frame.

"I heard that conversation… sometimes distracts the ill from the discomfort of the cleaning process, Your Grace."

Now turned to his exposed back, the girl's hand wavered over his punctured shoulder. She waited three, perhaps four seconds, before her arm finally breached contact with the wounded flesh.

Aemond took in a sharp breath, but remained otherwise silent, until she prompted him to speak again.

"How… how did such a thing even come to happen?"

Aemond's chest rose and fell with each labored pant. His eye remained tightly closed, his jaw awfully set. Her question registered into his mind, and a reply formed at the former base of his thoughts.

For a while, however, the One-Eyed Prince remained quiet – weighing the option of telling her the truth rather carefully.

"A Frey company was marching South." He hissed as her light hand came over his flesh, applying soft pressure in its wake. "The fog of the morning masked them from me – but Vhagar's shadow still went right above their heads."

The woman brought her free hand to rest over his lower back, and her fingers rubbed soothing circles into the dampness of his skin. "It was… very lucky that you didn't get more hurt."

She scorned herself inwardly, but kept her curiosity at bay. She wouldn’t ask him whether the company had risen victorious, or if he burnt all those men to the ground.

The latter option, in any case, seemed more than likely.

The Crown Prince tensed visibly, but didn’t scoot away from her soothing touch. A deep sigh parted from his cracked lips, and the man revelled at their sudden closeness.

He ached to talk to her, to plead with her to welcome him inside her heart – and into her bed. He could feel his own beat loudly, and his body trembled in unquenched lust and rage.

Still, he knew it was too soon for that.

Not once during their rash acquaintance, did the girl before he talk with so much interest about his day with him.

His thoughts trailed to Alys, and Aemond wondered if half her new admission was owed to her – if indeed the two women secured a friendship within the last two weeks, if his whore became her confidant, if she breathed in her trust in him.

He would have to talk to her later. Thank her, if he was feeling apt and generous.

(Y/N)'s breath caught in the shell of his ear, and the Targaryen Prince nibbled at his lower lip. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down; the coldness of the water gave him the strength to concentrate, by the sliding of small ripples down his exposed chest and abdomen. The ache of his wound was a small price to pay, if only to feel her knuckles working against his back.

"There we are. All done, Your Grace."

She rose up from her kneeling stance, wincing at the sudden change of perspective, and at the throb of her tired knees. She gingerly presented the clean set of clothes and bathing robes to him. Her head remained turned to the side, and her hand instantly let go of the heavy clothes, the moment his palm came into contact with them.

In the stead of returning to sit idly by their resting place, the woman graced him with a final look, and let out a faint mutter. "I'll leave you to it."

She wavered but a moment, and turned her stare to the ruined clothes; the ones that Aemond had so carelessly discarded on the floor, as he prepared for his undeserved nightly soak.

The shadow of a long-laid plan gleamed beneath her silent gaze.

"I can wash them for you tomorrow – after my bath. It might be wiser to keep the nature of your wounds hidden. The maids needn't worry over how much blood you lost."

Aemond's brows furrowed in slight shock, and the Prince remained wordless in the face of her sensible suggestion.

And yet her eyes spoke with so much sincerity, that he gleefully allowed the pang of hope to warm his unforgiving features.

"As you wish." He rumbled out, while forcing himself to move his stare to the folded clothes before him.

His eye trailed back to his hands' agile ministrations, and Aemond soon began to roll over his linen breeches, covering his half-hard cock with the help of the rough material.

A throaty groan etched from deep within his throat, however, as he reached for the pristine shirt.

The girl stopped in her tracks, and a deep scowl settled over her fair features.

The struggle he was undergoing would have been music to her ears – were it not for the solidarity of her position. For the millionth time that night, she reminded herself of her plan and her desperation to escape.

Thus, unbeknownst to her own better judgment, the Lady compelled herself to seek him further.

Although her words failed to assist her, the way she gingerly reached, with her hand wide and outstretched, made Aemond aware of her pending intent.

Their bodies were inches apart. The girl sucked in a hurried breath, and neglected to exhale it as the oxygen hit her lungs.

Aemond was burning up – and whether that was from the lack of fresh air within the confining room, or the first telltale sign of fever, or her – he was lost on saying anymore. His weakened arm slithered into the sleeve of his shirt, though the pain was long forgotten.

And instead of focusing on his poised movements, his glassy eye ran hungrily over her face and hypnotic features.

(Y/N)'s fingertips grazed over the light material. Her tired eyes softened at the familiar feeling. The threat of tears beckoned at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them all away in a hasty movement. Melancholy ate away at her, far more often than she knew was wise to allow.

Still she remembered, if only for a moment, the raptures of Jacaerys' warm embrace. And how, in the heat of summer, that very same cloth felt against her heated cheek.

They must have had the same seamstress, the same tailor. Of course, she thought to herself in a bitter manner, after all, they are both Princes.

… Were.

But if she closed her eyes, she could pretend – No, she chastised herself fully, such a thing just cannot be. And you'd be a fool to attempt to it.

The magnetic pull between them trebly pried the two souls together. And it would be yet another minute, until (Y/N) finally took a step back, opening her mouth to announce the end of her intimate task.

Her eyes fell on the stone hard floor, and she carefully turned her back around him.

The long waves of her hair shifted over her modest nightgown, covering her mounds of flesh with a slight shift to the left.

"I'm going to sleep." She pathetically uttered, as the warmth that emanated from Aemond's form not moments prior, still fell heavily over her slight frame.

Mechanically she gripped the satin sheets and engulfed herself with them – a slight comfort came over her, as the coldness of the unused bedding fanned gently over her scorched limbs.

Aemond remained stuck in place, and a heaved breath rumbled from within his chest. The red in his cheeks would have put both their Houses' seals to shame – For once, he was glad she wasn't looking his way.

***

The rest of the night was spent in washed quietness.

And his Lady might have made it up: the dip at the edge of the bed, the smell of fresh pine and wildfire that caressed her in her sleepy state, and the slight "Thank you" that dabbled from her captor's lips.

“You plan to ride on dragon-back again? So soon?” The echo of Alys' voice carried her worry throughout the silent clearing.

The first rays of sunlight caught flame into her raven hair, lighting her features in such a way, that it accentuated her every perpetual scar and wrinkle. The fire inside her eyes could rival the one of a trueborn Targaryen, were it not for her strong outer appearance.

Aemond moved his body at a leisurely pace, not even bothering to throw the woman one of his usual vexing looks.

"Do you think dear nuncle will put a stop to the siege of the Twins, should the word spread about my condition?"

His cutting words rendered the woman speechless, and the Rivers witch simply clicked her tongue, whilst glancing at the green grass below her.

"War awaits no one, my dear." He asserted definitively, as he gripped onto Vhagar's long bridles.

The mighty beast let out a shaken roar, as Aemond winced once his wounded shoulder made light contact with her dark-green scales.

"Gīda ilagon, Vhagar. Sagon nykeēdrosa... Sȳz hāedar." He instinctively reached for her, and caressed her lower belly with one of his gloved hands.

At their calm exchange, Alys bit over her lower lip, harshly enough to draw her own blood. "You should stay." She managed to draw out, "At least a while – going in search of your uncle today, instead of tomorrow, won't make a difference to your brother's cause."

But her voice of reason reached deafened ears. For Aemond Targaryen was set on paying the debt he owed. The debt he agreed to take on, the moment his dragon clasped onto Lucaerys, swallowing the bastard whole.

"Everything matters at war, Alys." He hummed impatiently, while snapping his head in her general direction. "What do you think will happen to you, should Daemon reach Harrenhal? Your pretty head will rest near mine, impaled on a sharpened spike."

But if she told you to stay put, you would do just that, wouldn’t you? Her bitter thoughts chewed her conscious away.

Alys spat out a lowly curse, as she shifted uncomfortably in place. "Daemon Targaryen was here once, not long before you. He didn’t kill me then."

"Because you didn't matter back then." The Prince Protector of the Realm hissed through painfully gritted teeth, "You were no one to him. You were a wet nurse who merely spread her legs for him."

The man turned his back to her, as he wordlessly bound Vhagar's bridle over his wrist again and again.

"And last I checked, your cunt failed to inspire him."

Her mouth parted in a silent protest, and her green eyes widened in partial distress. "Still I should remain in luck," She choked out through a breathless laugh, "for it has never failed to inspire you."

"You are perfectly right," Aemond's laughter was humorless and brash, "And it is because of this loose cunt that Aegon nearly lost the support of Storm's End."

The Prince spun around on his heel's end, and trapped the woman in between his hard chest and restless dragon. "Sometimes I think you cost me more than you're worth." He whispered calmly into her ear, while trailing his index finger over the sharp edge of her jaw. "For speaking back to me, I could have you executed."

The finality of his words drew her body closer to the ancient beast, and Vhagar let out a displeased grunt. Amusement pulled at the corners of his downturned mouth.

"Still you should remain in luck," He mocked her with an airy laugh, "I find myself in an exceedingly good mood today."

The back of his hand came to play with a loose lock of her messy braid, and the Prince smiled at her stance and her bewildered look. "But you've been a most useful asset, haven't you, my dear?" He obliged her with a teasing smirk, "Lady Tully responded well to you, hasn't she? Tell me," He paused momentarily, as he trailed his hands to the narrow middle of her waist, and back up again. "Have you kept up your training with her?"

Alys' face fell into a frown, as she staggered a frustrated look. Aemond was toying with her.

"That dull book she pretends to read at night has the maps of three secret passages hidden amongst the latter pages. Two of them lead to that cell into the West Wing – but of course, she doesn't know that. The third one leads to the stables of Harrenhal."

Aemond hummed pleasedly, and the man soon took a wide step back, allowing his paramour enough space for proper breathing. "You did well." He smiled wistfully, "I should reward you well tonight. You may think of something you desire. I will see to it once I return."

"I would very much like you to stay and heal today." She urged him not a heartbeat later, surprising even herself with the intensity of her tone.

Aemond's composure broke with the licks of roaring laughter – one that was empty, and fell devoid of any feelings of fondness or grief.

"Think of something else." He urged her coolly, and dismissively pushed past her, to reach for his dragon's saddle.

"'Tis a good thing you shall never be a wife, Alys. The role of the worried wench doesn't suit you one bit."

"Keep feeding her half-truths and lies." He encouraged the woman with a final reach over her hand. He squeezed once over her balled-up fist – acting as both a promise, and a taciturn warning on what should happen, should she let him down again. "Regarding whatever else she may have to say… you'll report it back immediately."

With that, the Kinslayer of the Trident took off, leaving the promise of bone and ash behind his dragon's menacing ascend.

The Eyrie was, on all accounts, smaller even than Maegor's Holdfast. Inside the stronghold nestled the Arryns, hidden deep beneath the illusion of the smallest stronghold of the main seven Kingdoms. Despite its intermediate size, the Keep of the Giant's Lance deemed itself one of the safest places to be – Hardly a lie, especially now, Cain Waters ineptly hummed, once his wobbly feet carried him over the stoney threshold.

Despite its less-than-imposing size, and lack of sheer volume, (Y/N)'s sworn shield felt himself smaller than ever before.

How would he dare account for his whereabouts? Reason his shortcomings?

How could he hope to explain to his Lord that not only did he return empty-handed, without his beloved granddaughter on horseback – he returned without the notion of a hand at all?

Between the two strange figures with whom he traveled, it was Mira Florent who rested loyally by his side – her strength and stability allowing the Waters bastard to lean into her, if only for a fleeting moment, during the ascend of the narrow stairs.

"Take heart," She whispered, "Your Lord is a kind and understanding one. You won't be facing trial for this."

His mere reply was a solitary grunt, and a quick smile, dejectedly thrown her way.

Between the two strange figures with whom he traveled, Albar had remained behind. The mute man shrugged his head decidedly when Cain gestured towards the waiting castle, and Mira explained to him that the Vale scarcely left him feeling safe and wanted.

And he understood, perhaps far too well – the feeling of dejection a bastard boy felt, as he stepped foot into the land of his birth.

***

He'd been granted the comfort of a Maester and a hot soak, almost immediately after his appearance at the Arryns' Great Door.

The Lady of the Vale proved to be a kindred spirit, capable of great nurture, despite her lack of heirs to her family's ancestral throne. She gasped loudly at the sight of him. Her eyebrows furrowed in grave distraught, and her lower lip trembled as the healers informed her of the state of his right hand.

Her searching eyes reminded him of the ones of his own mother – neither particularly warm nor cold towards him, but fair and just in their own accord.

She almost decided against calling upon him to the Trouts' Black Council, but the young Oscar Tully had entirely different plans.

His eyes, as they were, were socketed by a deep, but elusive brown. They spoke and reminded him of a whole different tale than the one of his fair, poor Lady.

And it was Oscar's eyes, so similar in shape to hers, who bore ghastly holes into the back of Ser Cain's skull. His arm rose up, as if to cut off the man's retelling – his nostrils flared up in disgust, and his face twisted into a painful scowl.

"So what you're telling me… is that you failed to bring her back."

Cain's eyes hardened at her brother's words, and the knight nibbled on his lower lip, in an attempt to calm himself.

Although a brave and honest man, he dared not look in the eyes of Lord Grover Tully – he dared not see what lay beneath his wilted face. Thus, all his attention focused in on the chirping lass.

"Aye, my Lord." He mustered up to tell him, "I lost her to the One-Eyed Prince. We escaped Harrenhal, and managed to get as far as the Saltpans, but –"

The boy scoffed at his attempt to pardon and explain himself. He nodded affirmatively, and scrutinized Cain with his piercing gaze.

"You returned with an empty hand, Ser Cain. You failed: miserably."

His back straightened in an attempt to appear bigger, and the hot-headed lass rose from his chair in a hurling daze.

"Because of you, my sister is in the hands of that cycloptic freak. Because of you, we don't know anything about her whereabouts. She could be tortured, enslaved, sullied – worse!"

Lady Jane Arryn clicked her tongue in disbelief, and beckoned her guard to guide the boy back into a sitting stance.

"That is quite enough, Oscar." She asserted calmly, "We have no evidence of such a feat."

"Of course we don't!" The young Lordling huffed annoyedly, jolting on the brink of madness, "The deranged cripple wouldn't reply to any of our ravens!"

His face contorted animalistically, the freckles on his face being taken by the deep shade of crimson that coloured in his plumper cheeks. "And with you here, Waters, we don't even have the certainty that (Y/N) is still alive!"

"Oscar." Grover's deep voice echoed a warning through the quietness of the tiny Keep.

As if struck in the face, the youngest of the Tully brothers shifted in his seat again. "My sister's fate is breached unknown," He cried out in a collapsing tune, "She's our family, grandfather, my only sister! Pray tell, why does it look as if I'm the only one who gives a damn?"

The graying Lord and the narrow Lady both leaned towards a perplexing look. But before any of them could reply to his laid-out challenge, (Y/N)'s brother urged them further, as he hissed through his gritted teeth. "It would have been better for you not to return at all, Ser Cain. It would have been better for all parties involved to have sent me in his stead, Grandfather!"

His shoulders slouched forward, and the brazen boy fought with Grover's intense stare. "Had I failed, I wouldn’t have even returned at all." Oscar roared over the silent council, proclaiming his intent with a defying raise. "I would sooner have died, than see her be taken by that monster again."

"What would you have had me do, boy?!" Grover Tully raised his voice in turn, "You fool. Would you have had me send you away for her? Do you think your death would have made you a martyr?!"

Cain's lips pursed into a tight line, as the Riverlords before him bickered further. Even Lady Jane Arryn seemed to be left speechless, unsure of when or how to stop their arguing.

Family feuds were neither one's strongest suit.

"Do you think," His Grandfather uttered, "that if you were to die, anyone would remember you fondly?!" The red in his cheeks matched the one on his grandson's face, and the elder Lord broke out into a coughing fit. "Your sacrifice would mean nothing. And when the dust settled over Westeros, and the war was done, you would just be another casualty. Another body to burn in a communal."

Almost immediately, his eyes softened, and their deep creases faltered on his face.

The Lord of Riverrun grunted in fatigue, but still rose himself securely on his two able feet. He marched towards the huffing boy, and placed a wrinkled hand over his sweaty forehead, urging him to quiet down.

"It's not about glory, Grandfather." He spat out lowly, as his ears began to match his fiery locks of curly hair. "It's about family. Our family. It's about ensuring its survival."

The older man gave the lass a curt nod. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, and turned to the knight with a downturned smile.

"There wasn't a knight more fit for the task than Ser Cain." He confirmed his judgment with a tired gesture in his direction. "He was knighted at five and ten. You are over your seven and tenth birthday, boy, and haven’t been even mirthed a squire."

Oscar sucked in a protesting breath, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room fall before him. His brows furrowed in a dangerous quarrel, and his blood ran hot. "Yet even with all the skill in the world, he still failed."

Lord Grover was losing his patience, "Yes, grandson, that he did! He failed, despite all the signs that pointedly told us otherwise – do you think you'd do an equitable job? When you haven't even once crossed swords in a Joust or Tourney?"

Nearby the aching knight, Lady Arryn renowed her position.

She whispered to her waiting guard, and the man took a step ahead, hitting over the chantry with the hilt of his sword.

The noise that erupted grabbed the attention of both grandson and grandfather.

"The turn of events marked by Ser Cain's departure means we need to readjust our plans." She commanded their heed calmly, "It is… unfortunate; that Lady Tully's sworn shield failed to protect her. Yet here we all stand, warming our bottoms on a mine of gold."

Cain should have been grateful for the distraction she was offering. All the displeasure surged upon him evaporated within the click of her tongue, and less conventional language – still, even he had to remain weary on the subject he opened.

"On a mine of gold?" Oscar spat out sharply, feeling his self-control disperse by failing him again. "My Lady, do you think my sister's condition is a situation of great rejoice?"

The Lady's blue eyes cut through the boy deeply, and the young man closed his mouth in embarrassment, before sitting down again.

She reached for the goblet of wine, and wet her lips with it, "Our strategical situation couldn't be better. Not once have we had a spy of Harrenhal successfully return. In truth, we didn’t even think it possible." Her lithe hand pointed towards the bloodied knight, and her eyes glimmered in mischief, "Yet here stands our living proof."

She elegantly rose from her ivory throne, and signaled the man to take a seat at the bent table. As he gingerly followed her lead, the woman spared him with a kind glance, and met his glance with her deep azul gaze.

"From what I gather, you spent the better part of a month undetected in the Strongs' Keep. Is that true?"

Cain nodded stiffly, and rested his bulky hands over his tired knees. "Yes, my lady. That I have."

"And you were knighted at fifteen?" She alluded to what was early spoken.

"Yes, my lady."

"By Lord Hunter Redwyne." She urged him to clarify, through the edge of a quirked-up brow, and the callings of a small smile pulling at her dusted lips.

"Yes, my lady. The very one."

Lady Jane hummed, seemingly satisfied by his short answers. She turned her attention to Lord Grover and his tiresome grandson, and merely asked Ser Cain again.

"And you faced the Kinslayer in combat, cut by a Valyrian blade, and lived to tell the tale?"

"... Aye, my lady."

Oscar's eyes remained unyielding. But Grover Tully glanced at the man before him, and offered him a wordless bow.

"Tell me, Ser, how would you like to command your own battalion?"

"You have to be patient." Alys chastised her deeply, as her luring features turned from flaccid to sharp. "Hardly enough time has passed since your last attempted escape – Aemond is still very much on edge."

The Lady's eyes turned to her. With the bridge of her nose scrunched up, and her fair features molded into a desperate plea, the girl looked more like a lost child, than an able and resourceful Lady.

Alys regarded her as such, and sighed deeply as she grasped onto her shoulders carefully.

"If I wait any longer, it'll be too late. I've already wasted three moon turns in this cursed Keep. I have to return to my family." The Tully spoke decidedly, leaving behind no room for arguing. She took a seat before the tiny mirror, that breached her modest vanity – a recent gift from Aemond, deduced by him to make her feel more like a proper lady.

The image that reflected within it looked at her like a dire stranger. The green silks she was dressed into, the pristine, braided hair that framed her pale cheeks perfectly; She was the vision of a flawless royal, a soft and polite maiden, untouched yet by the spoils of death and war.

'Would this be enough?' She asked herself desperately, whilst gripping the edge of her chair painfully.

Was this what Aemond had always wanted? The proof of her lack of autonomy, finally presented to him on a silver platter, as he returned from war every night?

Was he, perhaps, congratulating himself, every time he glanced at her, thinking himself master of the universe for making her arch and kneel?

Alys shook her head once more, and rested a hand over her bouncing knee.

"Patience is a virtue, Lady Tully. You needn't put yourself through any more unnecessary risks."

The Lady of Riverrun shook her head vigorously, finally snapping herself back to reality; Her actions were defying, and devoid of any capacity. Alys felt herself more confounded by the second. "I'll help you plan this thoroughly." The wood witch adverted. Her head quirked to the side in an encouraging gesture, and the girl nodded feverishly in reply.

Her green eyes widened in fair delight, and Aemond's lover lowered her gaze over the girl's book. "You memorized the passages well enough. Very soon, you shall put your knowledge to practice."

(Y/N) let out a tired sigh, and graced the older woman with a pleasant smile. "I'm lucky to have you, Alys" She played with her rings as she spoke, "Thank you. For everything."

As the elder woman finally left her Quarters in favor of bringing out the order for dinner, (Y/N) let out an aggravated groan.

Her long pretense would surely make her nauseous. But she would be a simpleton indeed, to place all her trust in Alys.

The walls preleened with the doom of silence. A cold breeze dug its way deeply into her spine, and the silent taste of passing and demise left a sour taste in her parted mouth.

***

Aemond began dinner as he wontedly did every day – praying to the Warrior to grant him strength in battle, to the Smith, to mend all that was left broken, to the Father, "to shine his light", and lead their souls out of the brink of darkness.

Each and every time, without fail, the girl would bring the pristine napkin to her mouth, masking the obvious way her lips would quirk into a most unyielding smile. His pious speech, and the way his hands painfully clasped together, begging for the blessing of resolve, made her scoff in blinding wonder.

Was he even aware of the words he mostly muttered? Did he ever stop to assess himself throughout the day, and realize the sin in which he debaucherously bathed in?

As his speech came to an end, the Lady preleened forward, grabbing a hold of the boiled-up stork.

How lovely it was to sit between comfort and chaos.

"You've never been one to speak much during our time spent together." Aemond remarked through the rumble of a solitary hum. "Yet I had hoped this last week softened your resolve, My Lady."

Her eyebrows rose in slight discomfort, as her eyes focused on the leisure movements of his bigger hands.

So he was softening up.

She opened her mouth almost immediately, but her hesitant eyes danced around his blinding stare. Her plump lips pressed into a hard line, and she exhaled loudly through her nose, in an attempt to ground herself.

"Not at all, Your Grace, I assure you." The cluttering of her fork came to a hoisted end, as Lady Tully aligned her head to focus directly on the One-Eyed Prince. "I should love nothing more than to talk to you… Please, do advise me on what you would like most to hear."

She fidgeted nervously with her silver rings – a quirk she developed whilst imprisoned in the Strong's Keep – and gingerly awaited his reply.

Your Grace. Your Grace. Your Grace.

The stillness in her speech and eyes drove the man effectively wild.

"Aemond." He stilled her faction through the reign of a distorted sigh.

She regarded him with a petrified stance. Her hands fell heavy over her legs in the wake of anticipation.

"... I-I beg your pardon?"

"Aemond." He repeated his name again, "We already break bread and sleep in the same bed." His lilac eye rose from his plate, and singled out her reddened cheeks. The man paused a while, as if to weigh his words carefully, and his cold, glassy orb, hungrily ran over her form. "It seems inevitable that we'd call each other by our given names. Yet you never once said mine throughout."

The girl could feel her throat dry up. While still maintaining his awkward stare, she reached for the glass of wine that rested by her left side. She wrapped her hand around its stem, and brought it to her paling lips.

The liquid courage slid down her throat in a quick, though burning manner, and (Y/N) had to swallow down an erratic cough. Her brows furrowed amidst, as she picked her words out slowly.

"I have called your name before, Prince Aemond. Many times throughout the moons, in fact."

He smiled at her perturbed reply, and shook his head in coy distraught.

"Not without the honorifics." The man clarified in a pleading tone, his voice growing hotter now. "... Just say my name." He sighed defeatedly. His hand gripped the edge of the table, silently, as the Targaryen Prince could feel his mind running with a thousand thoughts per passing minute.

The silence ate at him alive. She drowned the wine in a swift swing, and slouched forward to pour herself another glass.

She was too sober for this.

Lucaerys, Jacaerys, Cain.

Part of her wanted to pluck his eye out. Part of her wished nothing more than to make fun of him. Laugh, perhaps, at his desperate indiscretion. Do something – anything – to gauge a reaction out of him.

Any sort of reaction, that would make her pestering feelings for him leave her heavy soul.

Surprising even herself, adamantly going against her own wishes, the woman caught herself breathing out.

"... Aemond."

Unexpectedly he moved, by jumping to his ready feet, fully disregarding the oak chair as it hit the floor in a most perused manner.

The pang of noise alerted her, and seemingly, the guards outside. A while they remained in silence, listening in to the clash of metal that announced their unsure shifting.

But they wouldn’t come inside. The girl was lest aware of that.

As time pressed on, Aemond remained hammered in place, heaving out his weighty breaths and clasping his hands in aching fists.

Her eyes momentarily left his shadow – to turn again towards the poach of wine, and empty another glass in rapid gulps.

The heavy atmosphere inside the room hung lowly over their tired heads. (Y/N) resumed her mellow eating, wincing at the shakiness within her hands. She grabbed another piece of the boiled meat, though Aemond's stare soon made her drop it, and the girl clicked her tongue in disbelief; grabbing it instead with a piece of cloth, and securing it into a tight knot.

This time, it was her actions that had failed her. And perhaps it'd be her ready words that would prevail.

"Aemond." She spoke again, this time more confidently than before. The bitter liquor was burning her throat, her chest, her heart. She felt her limbs heavy – with both anticipation and frustration - borne out of lack of relief. She wanted to slap him, to hit him, to crush him beneath her feet.

She wanted to run away, to stay confined, forever inside this room, forever astute to what was going on in the outside world.

She wanted to feel something.

She wanted…

"Yes." Aemond encouraged her softly, and her attention came back to the raptures of the present tense. "There we go." He worded out, keeping his tone barely above a whisper.

Neither could tell when or how it happened – but Aemond's body was inches away from touching hers. The heat emanating from his beating heart washed over the meek form of the tipsy Lady. His Lady.

She gulped painfully, and the Prince could feel how his hands started spasming with the need to feel her. His nails bit the inside of his calloused palm, leaving deep and angry marks inside them.

His prominent veins shifted with his every faction. His face morphed into hopeful disarray.

"There we go." He repeated gently, "I want to hear your laughter. You never once laughed with me."

Her stare was hard to decipher. And yet confliction danced across her face. Aemond turned serious, and the stammering of his hands came to an untimely end. His eye bared holes into her reddened face; and the Lady humorously thought, if only for a moment, that it was a lucky thing he didn’t still have both his eyes. For such a stare would be embedded in her subconscious, bringing forth her swift undoing.

The corners of her mouth felt painful to bend and break. Shakily she smiled at him, and opened her mouth in shocked reclusion.

A shy laughter erupted from her unquenched throat, and the woman shuddered, surrendering the reins of reason to the drunken thoughts that sieged her.

Her laughter wasn't her own. The languid movements of her hands, that trailed over Aemond's chest, were not her own.

His finger came to caress her cheek. Her nose. Her brow. Her lips. Her mouth. The Crown Prince sucked in a dangerous breath, and secured his left arm loosely around her waist.

"Good girl," He spoke tenderly, his voice going from gruff to rough, "Such a good girl for me." His fingers combed through her messy braids, marking their swift undoing – taking a step back, he could feel the heat leave his head, in the favor of traveling lower, to meet the almost flaccid cock confined in the tightness of his pants. "Say my name again. Laugh again." He commanded in a pleading meowl. His lips twitched in anticipation, and his eyes trailed lower, lower still, from up her face, down to her soaring bosom.

"Aemond."

"(Y/N)."

A solitary look of shame was shared between them. Perhaps pushed forward by the only remaining faction of rationale, the two placed a step in between each other, but even that proved to be too fickle of a barrier to keep them whole apart.

Aemond reached to cup her face with his own trembling hand – on her end, the girl's digits trailed over from his high cheekbones, down to his prominent cupid's bow, in an all but gentle caress.

"Avy jorrāelan." He hissed through painfully gritted teeth, allowing his head to rest in the crook made of her shoulder blade and neck. "Avy jorrāelan." He repeated, the vulnerability in his voice making him lose the hold he had over himself.

"Se Jaes emagon qrimbrōstan issa naejot jorrāelagon ao." His feathered breath came into contact with her dainty neck. (Y/N) gasped lightly, as she felt the first of his many kisses being tenderly placed over her jaw and neck.

Her head was pounding, and her eyes were screwed shut, as the coldness of the wall hit her in perused waves. The impropriety of the soft moans and sighs that filled her ears to the brim left her confused and wanting.

The worst of it was that she didn’t know whether they came from her or him.

She felt as though her head was being harshly held below the water, and the girl clawed at her dress to loosen her tight bodice, which seemed to constrict even her erratic breathing.

Aemond's attention moved from her earlobe back to her lips. He felt how her hands contorted sporadically, and he placed his own palm over hers, to put an end to her hasty movements, and give her a sense of calmness. His fingers suddenly entwined with hers, as his form hovered above her. His throat etched with a lousy moan, and his mouth finally crashed with hers.

(Y/N)'s eyes opened at the shocking scene, and her lips suddenly parted, either to beg or to protest against him, but Aemond's hot tongue found entrance into her warm cave – deciding instead to deepen the kiss, and press himself further against her smaller form.

The outline of his throbbing cock molded against the shape of the woman's thigh, and the Prince Protector of the Realm let out a pleasured hiss, once her insistent writhing ended up brushing up his weeping tip. "Jaes, ao istan vēttan syt issa." He mumbled against her swollen lips, "Sepār jurnegon skorkydoso īlon kostagon fāelor hēnkirī."

She let out a fatigued whimper, and swiftly turned her head around, putting an abrupt end to their meek and vicious pecks.

"What's wrong, hmm? Dōna hāedar… ȳdra daor hakogon qrīdrughagon hen issa sir."

Aemond's lips were soft and tender, leaving behind an almost vivacious bite over her exposed parts. His pace had been filled with an animalistic hunger; the longing inside his eye caught her unprepared, and her lips parted with the desire to feel something – anything – that his palpable mouth would keenly offer.

(Y/N) shuddered with her eyes closed, and grabbed a hold of his long, white hair, leading the man closer yet to her swelling heat.

The way in which he held her should have felt so very wrong. But at that moment, the only thing she could do was extend her arm back up to him, and guide him with an insistent pull over his silky locks: encouraging him to bring forth his descent upon her lips.

She disregarded the way a figment of her psyche screamed at her. To stop her ministrations, to slap his calloused hands away from her. For if she kept her eyes closed, and focused solely on the shape of him, then she could almost pretend that the man before her had nothing to do with her beloved Jace.

She could almost pretend that he was Jace.

Aemond's pupil was left blown wide – so much so, that the lilac of his iris could almost be left neglected. He wrapped his hands around the lady's thighs, and hoisted her up to meet him by his narrow hips. Both moaned into the other's mouth, and the Prince soon found his way into the raptures of the silken bed.

His heated cock kissed the outlines of her soaked cunny. Aemond sighed deeply over the arch of her neck, and pawed away at her untouched bodice.

(Y/N)'s hands rested still upon his eyepatch, and, with a swift and hasty movement, she yanked it off his sculpted face.

"We need to stop…" She moaned, defeated, and felt how Aemond's body stiffened up below her, as the harsh realization finally hit them both.

She had uttered the words aloud.

Half expecting him to blow out fuming, the woman tried to pry herself off his fevered body, but his hands reigned like iron shackles over the inside of her spreading thighs.

"Do we?" He whispered lowly, whilst leaning in to steal another kiss from her again.

"We shouldn’t." She strained herself to say once more, and Aemond nodded, still chasing her lips with his.

She melted into his reluctant touch, and hummed against his beating heart. His hands dug deeply into her resting sides; his fingertips scattered over her translucent spine, leaving their possessive mark. "This isn’t right."

"I know, I know," He gasped, "Seven Hells, I know…"

"Yn nyke istan zarvīzis," He pressed a finger over her swollen lips, "Nyke emagon issare sīr sȳz se… sīr, sīr zarvīzis."

With the last ounce of her strength, she bit over his lower lip, dragging a wanton moan from out of his rosy lips.

"Ao aehron raqagon ao ȳdra daor jaelagon bisa..." He chanted, while latched onto her burning sear, "Yn ao jaelagon issa sepār hae olvie. Ao mazilībagon syt issa – sepār hae qosaevaerī."

His High Valyrian had made her dizzy. And at first, she tried to pay his words her mind, she tried to grapple and understand what he was saying.

A starved meowl left her panting lips.

"You can tell me to stop," The words that poured out of his mouth washed upon her like a rippled tide, "You can tell me to stop… and I will..."

Her body quickly arched against him; her shaky hands came to rest over his hips. She laced her mouth again with his, expecting rough, dominant kisses – but Aemond's hands propped themselves loosely against her cheeks, his thumbs pliantly stroking her with untoward devotion. His single eye drank her in with reverence.

"Please…" He whimpered into her mouth, "Avy jorrāelan." He confessed to her, again and again, trying his hardest not to take her against the cold floor – and not fuck her straight into the messy mattress.

Her limbs felt heavy. Lacking their autonomy. The body she was nestled in still wasn't her own.

"... Why?" She asked him disdainfully, sporadically, as his index finger came to pry open her haughty entrance.

His eye widened in perplexed ruin, but the Prince soon stumbled over his words again.

That bastard Jace must have taught her the gist of that.

"... I wish I knew." Came his sole and sincere reply.

Just like that, her eyes welled with the threat of tears.

His hands, his hold, his voice, his mouth. It was all wrong. In truth none could ever hope to feel right.

Flashes of her old lover, of his baby brother – who was so small the last she'd seen him –, of her sworn shield came into view. All of them, gone as if they never were. All of them, with their memories trampled deep beneath her sprawled-out form.

She wasn't a woman of the Faith. Not after what had happened. Not after the spoils of war that she, herself, felt like angry whips upon her skin. But her eyes fluttered close, and she begged the Mother for forgiveness, whilst a tear rolled off her ticking cheek.

She brought a hand to her wobbly lips, and began to violently rub away any remaining trace of Aemond's presence.

She was disgusted. With him, with herself, with the world, with the image of her Jace – that surged in her mind the second she blinked, the moment that she jolted awake in her misery.

On his end, (Y/N)'s display of pure abhorrence failed to falter Aemond's lustful grief. Why, if she did not desire him, did she fall into his arms again and again?

Love was the death of duty. And longing was the doom of all.

"Fucking cock tease…" The Prince growled, grief-stricken, "How much longer are you going to give into me, just to push me away?"

His patience had been running thin. The ache in his breeches was long forgotten. In its stead, the urgent sting in his heart dragged the man into the pits of madness. "What is it this time?" He groveled over her closed legs again.

Her recuperation had been jovial and quick. Adrenaline replaced the pain and shame, and the woman tried to get off the bed, put as much distance as she knew how in between her and the ravished Prince.

For the first time since he came to be, Aemond would not let her escape his clutches. As she moved backwards, he persisted forward – following her wobbly feet throughout the room with the spare of his predatory eye.

"Y-You said –" She tried ceaselessly to accuse him. "You said you wouldn't –"

"And you're right. I meant every. Single. Thing. I told you." He growled into her frightened ear, as his hands came to cage her, trap her under the seclusion of the hard, stone wall.

"You're mine." He hissed desperately, as he clasped her jaw to face him. "You've always been mine, you fucking harlot. From the moment you stepped foot into Harrenhal, your life belonged to me."

Perhaps Aemond was right, and she was nothing but a harlot. A treacherous swine that hung onto whatever he could give her - so starved and devoid of love and warmth, that she'd dare to stoop so lowly with him.

Aemond descended his unquenched rage over her exposed neck, and began leaving tender love bites all over, in spite of her lackluster pleas.

(Y/N)'s head felt like it was about to explode. She felt sick to her stomach – the wine and the distraught both built up inside of her. All she wanted now was to be left alone. For Aemond's touch felt oddly comforting, and her tired eyes began to close. "You drive me insane." She heard him choke.

She wanted to open her mouth. To urge the Prince to stop; but her word hole was sewn shut, taken over by the grip of feared confusion. While his hand hoisted her up by the waist again, her hand went around him, to grab onto whatever she could find. Finally, she stopped at the dragon-glass dagger, that securely latched onto Aemond's waist. Effectively, she wrapped her fingers around its silver hilt, and sheathed it out of its confinements.

"I swear on whatever God you want me to, I'll slit your throat if you don't stop touching me –" She wailed into Aemond's form, as she felt him stiffen up in tumultation.

His nostrils flared up at her attempt to intimidate him, and yet… his face looked most serene, as the cutting edge of the dagger reached close to his ivory skin. She raised her brows at him in utter surprise; for she expected him to surrender. His arms snaked away from her, and Aemond watched her intensely with his piercing gaze.

She could kill him, consequences be damned. And if she faced trial for this, then at least she'd have taken out a Green and Vhagar.

Her hand was shaking. Her breathing became erratic. She'd held a blade on multiple occasions; she'd fantasized about cutting Aemond's throat more times than she could bring herself to count. And yet…

His lack of movement – of worry – rattled her endlessly. She wanted to scream at him, to push him, to cut him. But for some reason couldn't bring herself to do it.

The realization that she just couldn’t do it made her almost drop the knife from the tight hold she'd kept it under.

"Why aren't you the least bit worried?" She spat out lowly, with her body trembling and her jaw set tight.

Aemond remained quiet and taciturn. His eye fixed her face carefully, and his hand gently wrapped around her quivering wrist. "Come on now…" He whispered to her, and watched how her eyes filled with the endless tears of frustration, how the hot droplets rolled down her reddened cheeks.

It would take another moment for her to drop the blade.

A moment she would forever grow to resent.

"I fucking hate you." She hissed through a breathless sob.

Oh, how she wished to hate him. Hate him as she did when they first clashed swords. Hate him as she did when she heard Jace talk about Lucaerys' death.

"Liar." Aemond rasped in acknowledgment.

And, just like that, the damage had been done. The blade rested back into his hand within an instant, and Aemond hit the wall behind her with murderous intent. "Fucking liar." He whispered again, breathing less and less sporadically, trying to wash his nerves away.

"I have been so good to you. But no matter what I do, it'll never be enough for you. Hmm?" He shook his head adamantly, and dug his fingers into the cold tiles of the cursed stronghold. "I am a patient man. But I will not wait a minute longer."

Her face twisted into a painful scowl, and the girl pushed over his chest roughly, but Aemond was quick to deny her exit. "This is not ideal," He muttered lowly to himself, "Yet you need to be taught a lesson."

"What are you d–"

Her words died upon her lips. Aemond hummed in dissatisfaction, and immediately brought the blade into her view.

She let out a scream of pure horror, but his pliant mouth silenced her with a scorching kiss. Her whole body was shaking, and the Prince Regent let out a frustrated sigh.

"Cease your crying, you hateful woman." He chastised her cruelly, "The fucking Gods sent you to ruin me."

At that moment, she wasn't above pleading. Her knees wobbled in place, and her orbs frantically searched for a way out. For something to grip and swing at the man before her.

Aemond's eye softened at the sight of her. Despite the pang of guilt he felt, a teasing and self-assuring smirk formed at the corners of his upturned lips.

So Jacaerys hadn't told her. He never mentioned their Valyrian way to her.

His triumphant feat soon washed away, as her trembling hands came into contact with his. "Ÿdra daor dīnagon, issa gevie Dāria. Nyke jāhor dōrī jaelagon naejot ōdrikagon." He told her adherently, truthfully, despite the obvious language barrier.

He took a moment to regain his composure. Grab a hold of her balled-up fists and remember the ancient words he'd only ever read about in his history books.

"Hen lantoti ānogar. Va sỹndroti vāedroma."

He ripped the sleeve from his linen shirt, and placed it over their entwined fingers.

"Mēro perzot gīhoti. Elēdroma iārza sĩr. Izuli ampā perzī."

The blade finally pressed down, over the softness of his left palm. Aemond winced at the sudden pain, and made a mental note to only nick the frightened girl with it, when the time came for that.

"Prūmĩ lanti sēteksi. Hen jenỹ māzīlarion. Qēlossa ozündesi."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened to a comical amount. Somewhere along the way, it seemed, she grew aware of Aemond's intent. She refused to show her hand to him, placing them both behind her back, and holding on for her dear life.

He let out a disapproving grunt, and reached his bloodied hands to her, yanking her right hand from underneath her strong grasp.

"No! No –!" She kept on screaming, and the guards outside shifted in place, before they fell under their oath of silence once again.

The cold and slick edge of the dragon glass pressed lightly against her writhing palm. Aemond made a smaller cut, and carried on with his rapid mumbling.

"Sỹndroro öñö jēdo. Rỹ kīvia mazvestraksi."

His very fist came to cut over his lower lip. His gory hand then reached for her jaw, hammering her in her place, and a sharp sting reflected on her weary stance. Aemond profited off the moment, to ease the dagger into her waiting mouth.

The metallic taste flooded her senses – the girl saw red before her eyes, and failed to register how his fingers came upon his and her forehead, painting them over with a ghastly symbol.

The Targaryen Prince reached for her hand again, and pressed her wounded palm cohesively with his.

"Following the tradition of my House from before the Doom of Old Valyria, I, Aemond of House Targaryen, bind myself to (Y/N) of House Tully, by blood, by soul, by life –"

"NO!"

" – And I pledge to her: that we are now one flesh, one heart, one body. Now and forever."

As he finally pried his limbs away from her trapped body, Aemond allowed his lips to feathery trace over her twisted mouth. She glanced at him, with wide-set and teary eyes.

"Fuck your fucking pledge."

Some grand venue she received.

A single question hung loosely into the air.

"Are you going to rape me now?"

She scarcely registered her own words as they left her mouth.

Aemond's eye widened at her query, and the Targaryen bit over his lower lip, as a deep grimace morphed the fairness of his features. He looked almost dumbfounded by her made assumption.

As soon as it came, the look of utter betrayal left his face.

"You would slit my throat with the knife." Was his mere reply.

***

Sometime along the night, he left.

The mighty roars of Vhagar registered themselves in the far-away distance.

That night, and only that night, she allowed herself the sacrilege of prayer. And she did so, again and again, pleading to the Seven for a blind arrow to reach his neck.

On the back of Vhagar, Aemond shuddered away from the impossible waves of heat, that licked deliciously at his stiffened cock; whenever her breathing would reach his ears, he felt tortured, trapped beneath the swell of lust and wanton desire.

Despite his abhorrent decision, he knew what their marriage meant. He knew all too well what his cruel bind had done, and yet… he felt no plausible remorse for the situation at hand.

The support of Storm's End, Floris Baratheon, Alys – mere casualties compared to the brink of having her, to knowing that she was finally his, as he was wholly hers.

Eventually, she'd have to love him. Eventually, she'd learn to do so.

A marriage wasn't a marriage until it was consummated. But he would give her, as he had promised, the illusion of choice, if nothing else.

As the cold night's air whipped his face again and again, and as Vhagar's thundering resounded over the burnt trees of the Riverlands, Aemond sighed, and brought a shaky hand to the strings of his breeches.

Scared as she was, his Lady made for a beautiful bride. It was such a shame that he didn’t get to see her wear the traditional Targaryen gown.

The pad of his thumb trailed over the cut he'd made – the same cut that now rested over her extended palm.

The flesh would scar, he thought, well pleased; whenever he looked at her, he'd get to see how she was undeniably his.

A possessive growl etched from his parted lips. Images of her paling skin, of her laugh. Her smile. The way her eyes bore into him, as if she always knew something he didn’t.

Leisurely, he began to pump his cock. Below him, Vhagar let out an anguished roar.

"Nyke gīmigon, Vhagar. Gīmigon."

Droplets of precum rolled over his clenching digits, coating his knuckles and the base of his shaft in a translucent, but thick ropes.

He groaned desperately, aching to relieve his frustration deep within her, but alas…

His gruff moans filled the air around him; and Aemond could feel his climax building up, as visions of her flooded his thoughts.

How she would feel underneath him. How she would writhe on the edge of bliss, begging, pleading for him to finally take her.

He could feel her legs wrapping around him, and feel himself sliding inside her with ease, praising her for being so good to him.

He wrapped Vhagar's bridle tight over his arm, and secured himself better in his leather saddle. His grip tightened around his dripping cock, but it was just not good enough.

The pace with which he fucked his hand picked up in a wilding speed. Aemond sighed in pleasure, and felt his hips move to their own accord. His breathing became rugged. His very mind was not his own.

He wondered what other scars her body bore. What the story behind them was, and how many of them came by his swift undoing.

Would she lie down and let him take care of everything? Or would she want to stay on top, jumping up and down on him, each time with a harsher thrust?

His hips rose and fell with his less than gentle pace, and the man pushed his length deeper into his steadfast grip.

He knew that if she let him touch her, he wouldn't be leaving her bed for weeks. He would pull countless orgasms from her, time and time again, until she begged for him to stop. He would have her so full of his seed, so the Gods' help him, that she would swell with his child – his trueborn child – before the rise of the first rays of sun.

Feeling his release beckon, the Prince set on a final rhythm, one that left his loins more in need than ever. With a loud hiss, he pushed himself inside his fist one final time, spilling his seed onto the saddle beneath him.

He panted wildly into the night, and suddenly opened his lustful eye, allowing a tear of ecstasy to roll off his scarred cheek.

"Se Jaes daoriot rȳbagon naejot nykeā vala raqagon issa. Yn nyke jāhor jikagon va issa knees se kostilus zirȳla naejot ivestragī issa emagon ao. Ao issi issa rōva botagon se se olvie rivaestra lambraes aohvra."

He couldn't keep up the charade with her. He would tell her all about it, once things finally settled down.

Word in Harrenhal traveled fast.

First it was her brash arrival. Then her impromptu marriage.

No one dared to talk to her. Yet she was never without the indiscreet eyes that followed her about.

Her situation wasn't without its ups and falls: Aemond felt no need to guard her as stiffly anymore – For where would the former Tully go, now that she bared his Targaryen name?

She was allowed to breach into some castle corners, always in the company of hefty guards, of course, and basked herself in some new acquired perks of freedom.

On the same account, whilst Alys remained loyal to her role as her lady-in-waiting, the tension between them couldn't have been more pain-strikingly high.

"I never asked for this. You must believe me."

She gave the younger woman a domineering stare, and only shook her head, obliged.

"And yet here you stand, inside his bed."

Word in Harrenhal spread fast – like a fire left unattended, like the so-called "Targaryen madness".

But a new, particular rumor gobbled the attention of everyone present.

Daemon Targaryen was to return to the Riverlands. And with him and Caraxes, he'd bring forth the formerly wild dragon, Sheepstealer, mounted by none other than Nettles.

The Lady had been acquainted with the bastard girl before – when the Sowing of the Dragon Seeds reveled in their first borne crops.

Another troubling report came forth. King's Landing had been secured by Rhaenyra.

When (Y/N) heard the news be whispered, she almost collapsed on her knees in glee. This must have marked the end of it. Surely, the usurpers would be put through the sword, leaving all to be well, and right again.

The Greens would die. They would face trial.

The Greens.

Indeed, word in Harrenhal spread fast. And she'd just been made the wife of the cruelest of them all.

Dread filled her insides. Her eyes cast their darkened shadow over the walls of the cursed Keep. A single, fundamental truth raised strongly from her anxious wallowing.

If Daemon Targaryen should find out about her marriage to his nephew, and get to her first… naught of the loyalty of the Riverlords would have a single say in her decided fate. And she would meet her end by the way of his blade, Dark Sister.

Now, more so than ever, it was pivotal for her to escape.

The clock was ticking.

And she was running out of time.

***

Her last day in Harrenhal was spent making plans. She'd rubbed her temples a myriad times, and paced about the room in a dizzying trot.

It wasn’t enough for her to disappear – she had to ensure everyone else thought she was gone.

When Aemond returned, she beckoned his call by jumping to her ready feet. The girl took him in, in his devillished state, and merely raised her brows at him. Whenever she saw him, the nick on her palm and lip itched at her relentlessly.

Neither was willing to recognize aloud what had transpired two moons ago, but both knew the inevitable punishment that would come with Aemond's actions.

He took a seat by the edge of their bed, and took his dagger out to play with it.

In vain he had asked Alys to share with him what she could see. She laid in broken, cradling her forming bump – the one she so desperately tried to hide away from him. The one thing that once meant her protection and raise in rank, now could very well heed out her doom.

Her green eyes raised from the floor below them, and Alys merely shook her head.

"There is fire, my Prince. Fire, and blood, and death."

"Going out to face two dragons is a death sentence." His deep voice rumbled through the silent chamber, "I can't afford that risk anymore with you involved."

And there it was. The silent admission of what he had done.

"We'll have to move from Harrenhal. You'll get to meet Daeron in Oldtown."

Was he sorry for what he did?

"It was about time you got acquainted with the rest of the family."

Aegon's cause was lucky that Storm's End was already too involved. They couldn't turn in their banners to the other front. Not now.

"It's a wonderful idea." She uttered in a glacial tone, barely above a whisper. "When will we depart?"

Sharpened orbs came in contact with the loneness of a purple eye.

The man took in a sparring breath, and hummed at her obedient retreat. The Prince's fist clenched over his cutting wound, and he nodded his head firmly.

"Should we be graced with the Gods' favor, issa jorrāelagon, then on the morrow," He explained, "but no sooner than that."

The girl's brows furrowed in discontent, as Aemond faltered in pressing the matter further. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with the aid of two long fingers, and heavily rose from his seat.

"Don't wait for me tonight. I shall return to you in the morning. I have unfinished business to attend to."

Lack of air. And crippling fear.

Her tiny world had been thrown into the arms of chaos. But everything fell so perfectly into place.

As soon as Aemond had mounted Vhagar, as soon as her father of wings died upon the night's first watch, the woman sprung to her feet, and began her soul's ascent into the pits of the Seven Hells.

She started off by breaking in her tiny mirror, placing a goose feather pillow below and over it, to somehow mask the clefty noise.

Her long hair was the first to go. She began cutting it swiftly, using big and brisk movements to chop off as many of her luscious locks as she possibly could.

She ripped the mattress of the bed open with one of the bigger shards, and revealed Aemond's dried-up shirt, that she had tucked well under after washing it, long preparing it for that occasion.

Her stomach churned as her hand went to her chamber pot. Risking her own deniability, she submerged her digits deep within it, letting out a victorious huff as she brushed across a piece of cold felt.

The insides of the sack revealed fermented meat – putrid, more like. She scattered the final remains of it over the stone floor like a mad-woman, and ripped the latter pages of the book Alys had gifted her.

She would take the passage to the stables, and simply hope for the best.

Her eyes searched feverishly about the cluttered room, but the hammering in her heart stilled only as she gaped upon the lower left corner of the wall full of banners.

There it was. Exactly where Alys told her it was going to be.

She tore into the mattress further, spreading the wool around, and grabbed a hold of a piece of wood from the crackling fire.

May she be forgiven for what she was about to do.

Her shaky hands grasped the lumber strongly, and she let it roll in the middle of the room, allowing it to fall with a loud bang.

***

The sound of wailing screams echoed inside her head, scratching at her ears, to the point of making them almost bleed. The heat of the fire she caused fell over her skimpily clothed back, and the disgust she felt with herself was palpable against her tongue.

With every turn she took, she made herself another promise. She would not rest until the war would see its end. She'd never sleep warmly again, and forever remind herself of the sacrifice she had to make – of all the lives that she undoubtedly ended, if only to meet her selfish ends.

For once, this was not just Aemond's doing. This was her fault all alone.

Blinded by rage, and seething with fury, her feet carried her down the crooked set of stairs. The woman brought a hand up to her face, and coughed wildly in the back of it. She'd have to make a bold turn soon. Then the outside world would heed, and she would be free again.

With just a twinge of luck, the guards should think that whatever was left of her room collapsed upon herself inside. Her burnt hair and clothes would create the wanted look – the meat would add the unmistakable smell of rot and death, and the lack of an actual body would take days to figure out.

And she prayed. She prayed, she prayed, she prayed: that no one else knew of the passages that she was threading through below.

Her eyes could barely see in front of her. Smoke rose to unforgiving levels, and the Lady swore it could be cut even by the dullest knife. As she reached the crossroads of the secret tunnel, her hands came to grapple at the breeches' pockets, turning them inside out – trying to find the torn pages of the book she'd just previously carried.

A sigh of relief rumbled from within her throat, as the pads of her shaking digits stroked across the withered, olden pages.

Her relief would be short lived.

Boney hands snaked around her, and the girl nearly screamed – until the familiar scent of mint and wild berries floored her senses.

"Alys?!" Her voice let out in an exasperated high. "Alys, we need to hurry!"

But her able hands still hesitantly clung to the soft material of her shirt, digging so deeply into it, that she could rip it in a downward pull.

"You –" She began to say, but cut herself short as she momentarily closed her eyes.

No matter what, she couldn’t tell the Lady before her that she'd have sent her upon her death.

"You took a wrong turn. This isn't the right way towards the South Gates."

The adrenaline flooded her veins. Her heart was pumping wildly against her ears. Lady Tully only nodded, failing to process that Alys had, in fact, never given her access to such an option on the crudely drawn map.

"This way, (Y/N) – came quickly!"

Two sets of legs descended further into the murky passages of Harrenhal. At one point, the smoke had gotten so very thick, that both women had to feel their way out, by touching the corners of every tunnel that they surpassed.

When all seemed lost, Alys finally spoke, "Over here!" She yelled out to her, and latched onto Aemond's dampened shirt.

They stumble into each other, as the small opening of the stifling cellar reaches the South Gates. The witch stops hastily on her heel, and the young Lady nearly busts their cover.

A raid of soldiers came flocking out, with what then looked like tens of thousands of squealing maids. So frightened by their own demise, they bumped into the oak doors and onto each other – choosing to, instead of unlocking the main Gates, reach and pull at the other's hairs, cursing loud and wildly.

Alys let out a bemused huff at their perused antics, but her reglament was short lived; as one of the smarter lassies reached for the illustrious piece of wood, and opened the doors with the loudest of creak.

"Now's our chance," The Lady of Riverrun whispered to her fellow escapee, grabbing onto her wrist harshly, and dragging her out and into the light. "Mingle in the crowd, Alys –"

"My Lady, do not stray far –"

The older woman let out a staggering breath, as she raised her skirts to follow suit on the trail left by the hot-headed girl.

She is Elmo's daughter alright, she disarmingly told herself, Just as hopeless and reckless as he once was.

Alys almost tackled her to the ground, as Lady Tully succumbed herself deeper into the burnt out forest. She gripped onto her hands with hers, so harshly, that she'd definitely leave her mark. "I thought I had told you not to stray far."

The breathless form of the lost child before her appeared to be enough to soften a tad of her resolve. "When I tell you something, I expect you to do it."

Whilst chastising her deeply for her foolhardy behavior, the woman searched her pockets, and pushed out two quarter silvers into her trembling hands.

"You'll go towards the Rushing Halls and buy yourself a mule from the Half Calf's Inn."

As the younger Lady nodded feverishly at her late advice, Alys clasped her cheeks with her hands, and brought her head further towards her. "You'll keep a straight line to the Green Fork. You won't stop to eat or drink – you won't stop until you reach Hag's Mire. Make sure to cover the cut on your hand with this." As she spoke, Alys pushed a black glove into her resting hands.

The Bliss of Riverrun threw the witch a bewildered look. Her eyes searched adamantly for hers, and the woman panted out in pure wonder. "How did you know I intended on migrating North?

"I've already seen you do it." She shook her shoulders promptly, "I've already seen you succeed."

Her green eyes softened, if only for a blazing moment; but the crackling of the trees behind them snapped her out of her inward trance. "Don't waste anymore time. Your diversion was smart, but he will try to find you."

The girl reached down, to squeeze her hands, perhaps, in a wordless display of gratitude and affection. Her soft fingers interlaced over her boney knuckles, and Alys muttered a faint blessing over the twisted arch of her furrowed brow.

The Lady turned around, but not before pausing and shooting the witch one last fiery look. "Come with me." She offered determinedly, and shook her head strongly as Alys took a step back. "He'll try to punish someone for it. You're his next available girl." She begged her to see to reason.

"My place remains here. By his side."

(Y/N)'s eyes hardened at her thorough admission, but she strained herself to shoot the wet nurse back with a curt nod.

"I shan't forget what you did for me." She promised her elder with a minute smile.

"A heads-up when you next decide to set the whole stronghold on fire would be most appreciated…!" She lightheartedly told her, despite the obvious wabbling of her lower lip.

(Y/N) nodded, but remained hammered in place for another while. Alys' hand reached to cup over her face, but a brisk moment of clarity was quick to change her mind.

"Go, you foolish girl…!" She snapped, "Make good use of that promise you made."

Her feet began moving on their own accord. Her mind was blazing with all of the unfinished tasks at hand.

She would run towards the Rushing Halls. Buy a mule. Retreat towards Green Fork. Reach the Twins.

Her road shall lead to Winterfell. If Forrest Fray remained the same kind fool that he once was, she should have no trouble sending Cregan Stark a raven.

And if she could reason with Jacaerys' friend, take in his testimony of protection, perhaps her life wasn't lost just yet.

The gusts of wind ran through her shortened and unkempt hair. Aemond's clothes hung loosely over her, and the stench of fire and ash filled her nostrils with something else other than hopeless dread.

Never before in her life, did the girl run so fast.

Taglist:

Translations:

Gevie… = Beautiful;

Gaomagon daor sagon zūgagon, issa dōna jorrāelagon. Nyke kivio ao naejot sagon gīda. = Do not worry, my sweet love. I promised you I would be patient;

Mēre tubis ao jāhor jaelagon issa. = One day you will desire me;

Se Jaes emagon qrimbrōstan issa naejot jorrāelagon ao. = The Gods have cursed me to love you;

Gīda ilagon, Vhagar. Sagon nykeēdrosa... Sȳz hāedar. = Calm down, Vagar. Be still. Good girl;

Jaes, ao istan vēttan syt issa. = Gods, you were made for me;

Sepār jurnegon skorkydoso īlon kostagon fāelor hēnkirī. = Just look how perfectly we fit together;

Dōna hāedar… ȳdra daor hakogon qrīdrughagon hen issa sir = Sweet girl… don't pull away from me now;

Yn nyke istan zarvīzis. Nyke emagon issare sīr sȳz se… sīr, sīr zarvīzis. = But I've been patient. I've been so good and… so, so patient;

Ao aehron raqagon ao ȳdra daor jaelagon bisa... = You act like you don't want this…;

Yn ao jaelagon issa sepār hae olvie. Ao mazilībagon syt issa – sepār hae qosaevaerī. = But you want me just as much. You ache for me – just as badly.

Ÿdra daor dīnagon, issa gevie Dāria. Nyke jāhor dōrī jaelagon naejot ōdrikagon. = Don't cry, my beautiful Princess. I would sooner die than hurt you;

Valyrian Wedding Vows: Blood of two, joined as one, ghostly flame, and song of shadows, two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires, a future promised in glass – the stars stand witness, of the vow spoken through time, of darkness and light;

Nyke gīmigon, Vhagar. Gīmigon. = I know Vhagar, I know;

Se Jaes daoriot rȳbagon naejot nykeā vala raqagon issa. Yn nyke jāhor jikagon va issa knees se kostilus zirȳla naejot ivestragī issa emagon ao. Ao issi issa rōva botagon se se olvie rivaestra lambraes aohvra. = The Gods don't listen to men like me. But I would go on my knees and beg them to let me keep you. You were once the bane of my existence… and now, you find yourself the center of it.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #the harshest winters #aemond imagine #aemond fanfiction #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys strong #house of the dragon #jacaerys valaryon #jacaerys imagine #jacaerys angst #aemond smut #bookcanon aemond targaryen #dark aemond x reader #dark aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #yandere aegon targaryen #unhinged aemond yep yep

[justcomeoverandbiteme]

𝓐𝓹𝓹𝓵𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓔𝔂𝓮

𝟏. 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐒𝐡𝐮 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐒𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐛𝐲𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐥 <3

Part 2

{𝐂𝐖: 𝐨𝐛𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 (𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭), 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐥}

   After the countless failed attempts at the Eve project, Karlheinz decided it might be best to level the grounds. While humans had the flair of added variables to his experiment, they were weak. Vulnerable. And frankly, too quickly disposed of. As try as he might, his sons never did care to make their toys last. 

  Previous brides had the restriction of ignorance, thrown into a jarring world of infinite night and bloodshed, it was no surprise they passed by the hundreds. However, perhaps with blood picked from the land of Eden itself, may his attempt at matrimonial successes with his sons finally be accomplished. 

  A new variable has been added to the experiment. A creature of daunting song and inexplicable beauty. Captivating all who stand within its presence, the tides have reversed, blossoming apples in the wake of Adam just begging to be picked. 

   The eldest son couldn’t say he was surprised another bride was being sent to the Sakamaki manor. The letters stamped with red wax had formed a home in a forgotten pile somewhere within Shu’s room, the amount reaching in numbers that could compete with Kanato’s wax doll collection.  

  However, there was a piece that had managed to catch him off guard. 

“𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐠. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐭𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝. 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐡𝐮 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐑𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.”

  …

  Matched? 

  The letter was discarded, slipping from the man’s diligent fingers and swaying to the floor.

  Predetermined?

  The idea was sickening, but perhaps not too shocking. The Eve Project had gone nowhere. Any fruits his father hoped to pick from the experiments’ outcome would be found instead in a drained woman or a pasty wax figure. In hindsight, who’d think to send a wide-eyed human, hot with pounding blood to a mansion of ravenous vampiric youth with a taste for fear? 

  Only the old man.

  Shu scoffed and let the thought slip from his mind as he plugged in his earbuds, leaning his head back to rest upon the sofa armrest.

  A week later

  Undoubtedly, the thought had slipped too far into his mind, seemingly lodged into the deepest crevices of his brain. 

  Shu had missed the bride’s arrival on purpose, too unmotivated to remove himself from the tub of warm water. The woman would inevitably fall to the hands of his brothers- coming face to face with her wouldn't alter that outcome at all. If she had been previously informed, and truly planned to court him, she would state the matter as it was. 

  But Shu didn’t have that sort of confidence for anyone, much less to believe a bride would go out of her way to state her arranged marriage to her arranged husband. 

    “Good-for-nothing.”

  Shu inwardly grunted, keeping his eyes closed.

  “The bride has arrived. However she informs me that she has specifically been chosen to be your bride, is this true?” 

  Shu was silent for a moment, allowing the question to hang in the prickly air. Then, the man sighed. “Yes. The old man sent me a letter.”

  Reiji scoffed. “To think of all his sons, my father would choose you to inherit the crown.” 

  Shu didn’t speak, contemplating submerging his whole body underwater to drown out Reiji’s spitting voice.

  What a bother. The thorns lacing his brother’s words pierced the svelte melody of his music, ruining a perfectly good ballad. 

   “Your presence is demanded of in the main foyer. The bride requests it.”

  Shu sighed, tempted to argue that if the bride wanted to see him so badly, she could come seek him out herself. But Shu knew his limits. This bride had specifically been chosen by no one other than his father, and while that didn’t vary much from the previous women who had entered this house, for some odd reason, he had been the predesignated groom. There was only so much interference Shu was willing to push before potentially being punished by his father for ruining his suddenly altered project.

  The man lifted himself out of the water slowly, grunting as if he bore the weight of clay skin when really, the only weight that clung to his skin was that of his drenched clothes. Reiji clicked his tongue.   

  “Do not soil your first impression with such a disheveled app-!”

  The glowing atmosphere of the foyer seemed to burn through Shu’s closed eyes as he appeared before the great steps of the mansion. The candelabras that lit the room emitted a fiery warmth casting a glaze that made the walls appear as though coated with amber. His nose twitched, detecting an unfamiliar scent amidst the fog of blood and hunger. Yet surprisingly, the twisting fragrance of fear was absent from the air. And instead, replaced by something else. Something different. 

  Shu blinked, coming face to face with Laito, whose green eyes were slitted from the smile on his lips. “Wow, groom-to-be finally decided to show his face~” The man cooed, a glint of jealousy lying beneath the man's cat-eyed gaze. 

  “You’re dripping everywhere.” Kanato whined, clutching Freddy closer to his chest and furrowing his brows at the oldest brother. 

  There was still that scent in the air, blurring Shu’s concentration as Laito stepped away with his signature giggle. His nose searched through the vampiric scent that had settled itself into the mansion and let out a soft sigh at the sudden whiff of sweetness, almost teasing in its subtlety.

  Where was it coming from-?

  “Just because you’re the oldest you think you can suddenly get everything?” Ayato’s fingers were suddenly clutching at Shu’s woven sweater, pale skin tightening against the beige wool. Shu glared at his younger brother’s face, Ayato’s teeth baring with hardly kept rage. “Damnit, Shu! What do you think you’re better than Yours Truly or something?!”

  “Actually, Shu had little say in the matter at all.” 

  A feminine voice broke through the rising tension. 

  There.

  Shu’s attention flitted to a figure only a few feet away. How he hadn’t noticed her before, he had no idea. With his eyes now fully trained on the bride, the fragrance seemed to amplify itself, unfolding itself like a cloud of wisteria to cloak the room.

  She spoke again, plush lips parting. “It just happened we matched upon compatibility. The King figured if there was a picked son prior to us meeting, it would decrease the chance of mortality if there was less…” Your hands, manicured delicately and painted an elegant blue waved over an area of air. “..infighting.”

  Shu had never felt so awake in the presence of anyone, much less a bride. And yet, he couldn’t tear his gaze away, letting his blue hues fall over the curvature of your body, accentuated by the tightness of the white silk blouse you wore which stylistically loosened right at your breasts. Your sleeves matched the flounciness of the bust material, traveling like sheer clouds down to your wrists. Black leather encased your lower body, high waisted leggings twisting deliciously along your hips and legs. Damn he hated his father, but the man knew how to pick ‘em.  

   When Shu looked upon your face, he paused for a moment, frozen. You were gorgeous. Undeniably alluring with eyes that seemed to tempt even the most persistent of sailors to dive to their depths. A small grin played on your lips, glazed with the slightest of red gloss to enhance their softness.  

  A siren.

  It took him a moment to realize you were no longer smiling at him. And instead looking at Reiji, who had teleported back into the main foyer. Disdain began to unfurl in Shu’s chest, a sense of wrongness arising at you turning your attention to his brother, of all people. 

  “It appears to me that my brother has failed in informing us of your presence, Miss (L/N). Even more so, of your clan heritage. Forgive me for the confusi-.” 

  Your voice sliced through Reiji’s own, the airyness of it almost overwhelming in the mansion that was almost rotting with the constant tension. “It’s whatever, I don’t mind.” You spoke dismissively. “I would really just appreciate being personally introduced to my future groom.”

  The ease that your voice sent through his body was almost sickening, widening a gap in the constant dismality of his mind that previously, only music had been able to achieve. Shu felt like he could finally breathe even though he hadn’t needed to for the centuries he’s existed. He was sure his brothers could feel it too, your tone infectious in its sobriety, that even Ayato had backed off the minute you began to speak. Reiji, who usually upon being interrupted would instigate an immediate punishment, was rather silent, brows furrowed at your smiling face. 

  “...Very well. Shu and Miss (L/N) are to be left alone until dinner.”

  One by one, the brothers dismissed themselves until finally, all that was left was you and Shu. 

  You were smiling at him, Shu realized, surveying him with those captivating depths that seemed to swallow him whole. So often it was spoken that a siren’s song was their most deadly trait, and yet here he was, unable to tear his eyes away from your gaze.  

  “Shu Sakamaki.” His name unfurled like petals off your tongue, and the scent of wisteria was suddenly dizzying. “My name is (Y/N), it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  You were grinning now, with teeth glinting in the candelabra glow. Shu found himself staring for a moment, frowning subtly at your canines. They were sharp and slightly thicker than the rest of your teeth. With their almost hooked like tips, it was no question they were meant to be sunken into the flesh of prey. Beautiful, yet deadly. 

  He looked back up at you, a sudden blankness in his face. Of course. The countless prey sent to the castle was counterintuitive, an expectation for success that was like hoping for frost to thrive in a desert. A predator stared back at him, flickering between a beautiful woman and a creature that bared its teeth. 

  A threat sent from his father. 

  “I hope you know I have no will to pursue the throne.” He mumbled, eyes growing half-lidded to limit the disorientation that came with your presence. “So if that’s all you came for, I recommend you choose someone else.” 

   The siren before him blinked, eyes widening into pools of confusion. Until suddenly, you giggled. Like soft bells twinkling in the moonlight, the blissful sound danced throughout the foyer. 

  “Oh, Shu~. I don’t want the throne.” You laughed gently, fingertips rising to hide the sharpness of your grin. “I just want you.” 

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers x reader #shu sakamaki #shu sakamaki x reader #sakamaki brothers x reader #siren! reader #vampire x siren #diabolik boys #diabolik lovers blog

[rosie-zia]

Luca Kaneshiro x Reader

A/n: After being on hiatus for eight months, I decided to go back and write stories again. This fanfic is an inspiration from Luca Kaneshiro's cover of "Honeymoon Un, Deux, Trois." This is a very long one so I hope you enjoy! :^) Word count: 2.3k+

Luca Kaneshiro was famously known as the evil mafia boss around the city and in the streets. Most people fear Luca because of the stories they have heard about his crime syndicate, but only a few knew he was like every other married man with a wife behind the closed doors of his manor. His beloved spouse was none other than you, Y/n Kaneshiro.

Luca didn’t see himself getting married so soon; however, it all changed when his father laid eyes upon you. You were known as the daughter of an elite mafia boss hailing from another country. Naturally, Luca’s father thought it was a good opportunity to create a strong alliance between two powerful organizations. Thus, a pact was formed and an arranged marriage took place. Despite you and Luca being against this whole ordeal, you two had no other choice but to go through it, and the rest was history.  In the beginning of your marriage, it was awkward as you two tried to adjust in spite of the pressure since you and Luca perceived marriage only as business and not as love. If needed, both of you would do your best to present yourselves as husband and wife in front of other mafias at every gathering and every meeting. When you and Luca fully adapted in the ways of matrimonial life, you two ended up catching feelings but were just too scared to tell the other. 

Luca saw you as nothing but a simple woman who has been involved with the dark side of the law, but his eyes were slowly opened and realized there was more to you. He highly thinks of you as a sweet lovely lady with kindness and beauty unlike any other. Your simplicity and grace immediately caught his attention that made him fall for you so hard that he feels he lost his breath every time he sees your bright smile. The blonde man doesn’t know how to express his love, so he only does it in which way he knows best: giving you materialistic things.  Ever since you married Luca, he often showered you with luxurious gifts that filled your entire room. From small trinkets, expensive clothing, and everything in between. As the recipient of his gifts, you were slightly overwhelmed how your husband provides you such an extravagant lifestyle. It felt like a one-sided marriage for you, so you did your best to be an obedient wife that takes care of the house and his needs while also involving yourself in the mafia business. Even though your marriage with Luca was mostly a smooth sailing, there had been some disputes that happened between you two. Lately, you have gotten yourselves in a heated argument with Luca, and it has been bugging you ever since.

_______________________________________

*Flashback*  “Luca, please let me know if you are in a bad condition from your missions. Don't try and hide it from me.” You and Luca are in the bathroom as you tried to tend his wounds carefully with bandages and ointments. He just returned home from another mission and unfortunately got hurt. The blonde man tried to ignore the pain and hide it from you but failed to do so as you caught him red-handed from the moment he stepped into the house.  “You don’t have to worry about me, Y/n. I’ll be fine.”  “But you are hurt right now, Luca. I worry about you sometimes… you should not let yourself get hurt like this.”  Every night, you mostly worry about him whenever he takes dangerous missions in the Kaneshiro mafia to the point you would always pray he will come back safe and sound. Although you sounded genuinely concerned about him, something about it irritated Luca into thinking you didn’t trust him enough to do his work “I said I’ll be fine, Y/n. Geez, you’re making me sound like I’m just a kid. You have no idea on what it is like to be in my position. Just mind your business will you?”  This led you two to argue for thirty minutes straight until he had enough and walked out. He may have looked irritated but deep inside, he felt like he hurt you. He ended up realizing that you were just looking out for him, but it was too late to take everything back. In that moment, he knew he had to make things right before it was too late.

________________________________________

After thinking about the events that happened that night, you were immediately snapped back to reality as one of Luca's men laid a ball gown with other fancy accessories that complimented the dress. "Greetings, Mrs. Kaneshiro. I was given an order from the boss to deliver his present to you. He wants to be present for the ball this evening. It will start in a few hours, and Mr. Kaneshiro will be escorting you to the party."

His bodyguard bowed down in respect and walked out the room to leave you alone to prepare for the ballroom party that will be hosted by Luca himself. You have no idea what is the special occasion celebrated in this event, but you assumed it was just a simple gathering to get more influential connections in the mafia.

You don't feel like going to that party, but Luca's small lion cub, Augustus, helps you raise up your spirits as he lets out small growls.

"You're so lucky that you don't have to attend a party with so many people. I wish I could just stay with you in bed."

You gently pet Augustus in which he gives out one of his toothy smiles. You knew very well that not showing up at the party is clearly not an option. Not wasting anymore time, you started your makeup routine to look good for the party. You're just hoping for the best that you will survive at the end of the day.

_______________________________________

You and Luca arrived at the ballroom before the event started as you two waited for the guests to arrive and made sure everything was in order. As always, you two will put up a face as a married couple in front of all the mafias who will be attending this gathering. One by one, you both greeted all of the guests with a smile on your faces while linking arms with each other. It may look like you and Luca are the perfect married couple and yet you both still did not resolve the argument that happened yesterday. You sighed to yourself and let Luca properly welcome the guests in his honor. When all of the guests had arrived, Luca clinked his glass to get everyone's attention. "Good evening, dear friends and loved ones, and thank you for attending tonight's ball here in my manor. I just want to celebrate a very special occasion that is very important to me. I do hope you all enjoy this night. May the party commence!"

As Luca finished his speech, all of the mafias and other guests talked away and enjoyed the party in their own ways. The gathering felt lively under the bright lights of the chandeliers in the ballroom. With the lively aura in the party, you're still confused on the special event Luca failed to specifically mention. You stayed beside Luca as he conversed with other mafia bosses until you felt like you're out of place. You excused yourself from Luca, and went somewhere else to get a breather and away from the crowd. The party was still going, and Luca can't help but steal glances once in a while to see how you are doing. He sees you by the balcony being alone by yourself with a glass of champagne in your hand. Luca knew how you can't deal with handling big crowds like this, but something about you was different from the way you look. He may be oblivious to most things but his thoughts went back to yesterday's fight, and he takes the blame for not considering your feelings.

________________________________________

After hours of dancing and drinking among the guests, the guests waved goodbye to you two and went to their respective homes. Finally, all of the guests have left, and you went back inside to close the lights in the ballroom and call it a night. The grand mechanized clock chimes to let you know it was quarter to midnight, giving you the signal to close the ballroom doors. Before you even got the chance to do so, you heard the orchestra on your left begin to play their instruments, producing an enchanting-like melody. You were about to stop them but you caught something from the corner of your eyes. Lo and behold, it was your husband by the grand staircase in all of his glory.

The heels of his shoes clicked as he made his way towards you. Something about him right now feels different than he usually carries himself. His lavender eyes seem more gentle, his outfit exactly matches the gold accents of your dress, and his overall appearance was much more dazzling compared to what he looked like during the party earlier.

Luca bowed slightly and brought the back of your hand against his lips to give it a small kiss which made you a bit flustered by the gesture. He uttered a few words that made you caught in a trance from how his voice dripped like honey.

"My dearest and beloved wife, shall we dance?"

---------------------------------------- Now playing: Honeymoon Un, Deux, Trois - Luca Kaneshiro Cover ----------------------------------------

Before you can properly process his words, Luca gently grabs you by the waist and sways you along with the music, taking the lead between you two. You let his fingers entwine with yours, and his hand fitted perfectly, letting your bodies become one. Under the dim lights in the ballroom, his features radiated perfectly, capturing the essence of the mafia boss before you. He also starts to sing along with the instrumental playing in the background in a foreign language you've never heard him speak before.

You may not understand most of the words he's singing, but you felt addicted to his voice like he was casting you under a deep spell you cannot ever break free from. It felt like a fairytale as he pulls you in twists and turns, also letting you have your way in the waltz of love. Every step you both took, you both were in sync with the song he's singing.

Never in your dreams he would act genuinely romantic towards you. This was the side of Luca you thought you would never witness, and here you are dancing with your husband in this empty ballroom. The moonlight illuminates the golden hues of the marble tiles beneath you two which makes it the perfect night for lovers exactly like you and Luca.

As he finishes up his song, he romantically dips you, and then pulls you back up. You wished it lasted longer, but you redirected your attention to Luca once more when you felt his fingers caress your hair to the side of your face.

"Y/n, I just want to apologize for last night. I'm sorry for being a jerk and not considering your feelings. I should have let you know that I took dangerous missions like these in the mafia. Could you forgive me?"

He says as he looks at you directly with tears in his eyes that are threatening to spill in a moment. With a sigh, you managed to forgive him.

"Alright, I forgive you, Luca. If you're hurt, please let me tend to your wounds after your mission, is that clear?

"Yes, I promise, Y/n..."

You both laugh while basking in each other's presence. It didn't take long before your laughter became silence... and silence became awkwardness. You knew you had to do something, so after debating with yourself, you decided to break the silence between you two.

"T-thank you for the lovely dance this evening. I still don't get why you hosted a party without any special occasion."

Up until now, you still don't know what the celebration was all about, to which Luca only replied with a smile on his face.

"It's our first wedding anniversary, Y/n. I thought I could celebrate it with you."

Hearing Luca's response made you so embarrassed and flushed that you forgot it has been one year ever since you married Luca. Now it was your turn to apologize to him.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, Luca. I didn't know it was today. I have completely forgot about it, I-"

Your husband just chuckled and placed a finger on your lips, shushing you and stopping you from rambling such nonsense.

"It's alright. I know you don't see our marriage in a romantic sense but I wanted to tell you that I love you. I'm glad that I have you as my lovely wife."

He then proceeds to cup your face with his hand and pulls you by the waist with his other arm as he plants a chaste kiss on your lips. When you two pulled away, you ended up confessing how much you love him as well.

"I love you too, Luca. I'm also glad that I married you. You will always have my heart."

At that moment, you felt your hearts have become one. From this day forward, the marriage you have with Luca has gotten stronger from just business to pure and unadulterated love. Feeling so many positive emotions all at once, you just held him close to you just savoring this moment.

"Shall we dance the night away one more time, my lady?"

"Yes, Luca, we shall."

The grand clock chimed once more, telling you both it has struck midnight, but you just stayed there with the prince of your dreams without a care in the world and living the fairytale you truly deserve.

________________________________________

A/n: Thank you so much for reading this fanfic, and yes, I do Luxiem fanfics and possibly other Nijisanji members. I'm trying to explore and write more characters. If you liked this one, I might probably write more in the future, but it might take a while since I'm busy with school and other things. If you wish to chat me and give me some ideas for future fanfics like this, I would gladly accept them. See you in the next fanfic! ^^ - Rosie Zia

#luca kaneshiro x reader #luca kaneshiro fluff #nijisanji en #luxiem x reader #luxiem fluff #nijisanji fluff

[dearshelby]

Boy toy | T.S

Tommy blew the smoke out his lungs harder than he usually did. Laying in bed with her snuggled into him, he gulped trying to find the best words for the question he needed to make.

He drew patterns on her arms, she felt the small callous in his fingertips that contrasted with the soft skin of his chest. In a sign of affection, she lifted her head and pressed a kiss on his cheek, all he offered as a reaction was a squint of the eye.

"You're too quiet today," she commented, "more than usual,"

"Epsom is tomorrow," he explained.

Even though she was not exactly satisfied with his answer, she chose not to ask any more questions. She worried about him, but at the same time she didn't want to involve herself in his business. Tommy had a dangerous line of work and she'd never exchange her peace and security for more information.

He was her nightly companion, his quiet yet imposing presence comforted her. That was all, she'd rather keep things like this.

"I have a business to finish and when I come back-" he continued, licking his lips in hesitation, "I wanna come back to you,"

"Well, I can wait by the restaurant, or the parking lot if you want to leave," she offered, sensing an uncharacteristic worry in his voice.

Turning his head, he stared into her eyes, she swore there was an ounce of vulnerability in him, the blueness usually resembled her of ice but at that moment, they reminded her of fire, the blue part of fire which burns harder.

In a sudden move, he sat up, leaving the bed and reaching for his coat on the bedroom's floor. She felt her limbs freeze when he took a red velvet box out of the pocket.

Sitting up and covering herself with the sheets, she shrank away from him, perhaps she didn't pay close attention, but she never noticed any softness from him towards her, at least not enough for him to propose.

He sat near her, opening the box revealing a small, tasteful diamond, his chest moved up and down with his tense breath, his dilated pupils focused on her as he muttered, "Y/N, will you marry me?"

"Tommy, I think she misunderstood things," she answered, "I won't ever get married again,"

"There's five years her husband is gone, there's nothing for people to talk,"

Her husband had died in France, shot dead by the germans. Traditionally she had to grieve for him for two years, she did without struggle, not really interested in joining another matrimony.

Somehow, she felt like he took her dreams of having a family away with him. Once she fantasized about it, now it was buried in the mud, rooting in the same trench he died.

"I know, it's not about him," she explained, "I already got married, I won't do it again,"

Tommy's jaw clenched, his eyes switched between her, the ring and nothing, she noticed his whole body tensed up before her rejection.

"Tommy, you're young, you're handsome, I'm sure you have many women swooning over you," she tried to comfort him even though he always took it as patronizing.

"Not you," he muttered.

"You only want to get married because she don't know what being married is like,"

"But I do," Tommy argued, he watched his parents' marriage fail and John, Polly and Ada losing their spouses, he knew it wasn't easy and he still wanted it with her.

"...your eagerness enchants me, everything about you does," she confessed, "but I think it's better if you leave,"

Looking down, Tommy collected himself, dressing up and leaving the room silently. Humiliation weighted on his shoulders and yet, he knew if she called, he'd promptly reply.

#tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #requests #thought it'd be nice to see tommy being rejected #also no this isn't a request i just tag like that so i don't have to add to the masterlist hehe

[stonedcoldfoxtarot]

What would they confess while stoned or drunk?

From left to right:

Pile 1 -> Pile 2

Pile 3 -> Pile 4

Pile 1 La Mota 6oC, 7oP, Tower, 5oW, AoC (Temperance)

Pile 1, I feel like this person has a lot to say while under the influence because the cards flew put of the deck right away.

Someone with whom you share a deep connection would want to tell you that you came into their life and nothing was ever the same. They haven’t stopped thinking about you since. When faded or gone off the liquor, this person wouldn’t hold back in telling you how you are their soulmate and how deep their feelings are for you. If they’ve been holding back their feelings in the past, everything will come spilling out of them suddenly - they won’t be able to fight it or hold back. They might even blurt out the words “I love you.”

If you and this person have had arguments or disagreements in the past, while under the influence they would want to make up and tell you how sorry they are for hurting you or blowing up your connection. They deeply desire to work things out.

Pile 2 Magic 8 Ball 7oW, 6oC, Death, High Priestess, AoP, 8oS, 10oW, 7oS rev, Judgement, AoW, 9oW, 4oW rev (9oP)

Someone who may be a recovering addict or abstains from drinking or smoking due to something traumatic that happened in their past might prefer to keep their wits about them and would not enjoy the feeling of being in an altered state of consciousness. They may have struggled with addiction themselves, had a toxic ex who struggled with sobriety during their relationship or been raised by an addict. However, this person enjoys your company and may even find you incredibly attractive. Yet, they seem to be focused on being single and financially independent for now, and do not seem to be opening up about their feelings due to internal or external blockages and responsibilities.

Pile 3 The High Priestess 9oP, Temperance, Emperor, Hierophant, 8oS, 7oP rev, 5oS, 6oW, 3oW (AoC)

When this person gets intoxicated, they confess how beautiful and amazing they think you are. They admire you and learn a lot by being around you. They see you as smart, independent and a natural born leader. When sober, they may hold back from telling you how much they admire you, but under the influence of liquor or weed, they can't hold back.

This person also desires to take things to the next level in your connection and make things official. They might even propose! They want to take care of you and share a life with you. Even when sober, they think the two of you would make a great team. You guys might smoke or drink together on occasion and they really enjoy getting faded with you. They are very much in love and at times it may be written all over their face.

If they have held back in the past, with a little liquid courage, this person would tell you how lost and incomplete their life is without you. They would let you know that they are deeply in love with you.

I heard the lyrics “Baby I’ve been making plans for you” from The Matrimony by Wale Ft. Usher.

Pile 4 Don’t Care Bear Tower, AoS rev, 10oW rev, 10oS, World, 3oC, 5oW, 9oC, ToS rev, Hierophant rev (AoW)

Pile 4, this person is using alcohol and drugs to forget their past mistakes in the relationship. They realize how they were dishonest and disloyal with you, and how they failed to be there for you when you needed them the most. They acknowledge that they put everyone else before you, and they regret it. When they drink or smoke the memories of how things fell apart between the two of you overtake them and they shut down in order to forget.

If you have cut this person off or if they ghosted you, spirit is saying it's best to let them go. They are not capable of committing to a relationship, even if they made you feel otherwise when you got high or drunk together in the past.

Sometimes, while faded they may consider reaching out to you but they know that you have already moved on from them due to their wasteman behavior (gender neutral). They understand that the most they could offer you at this time is a night or two of pleasure but little to nothing more. They are not suitable for a long-term relationship because even at their best they will forever be for the streets.

I heard the lyrics to Needed Me by Rihanna.

Thanks for reading🔮✨

© 2023 stonedcoldfoxtarot. All rights reserved. Please do not copy, translate, edit or redistribute.

#pac reading #pick a pile #pick a card #intuitive readings #pick a picture #future spouse reading #tarot reading #tarotblr #pac #tarot #love reading #love pick a card #oracle reading

[brittle-doughie]

Lost Amidst Matrimony (Pure Vanilla and White Lily Cookie)

Letting go is hard, harder for others, but some…refuse to let go.

Pure Vanilla and White Lily had been a pair for some time now, they were happy to finally acknowledge their strong feelings for one another and make things official..

However…they can’t deny that they’ve been missing something in their relationship..until the two cookies make their gaze towards you and it hit them!

It was no surprise to the group of ancients that they all adored you to pieces! Dark Cacao, Hollyberry, Golden Cheese, Pure Vanilla, and especially White Lily. White Lily was your biggest fan dating back to your younger days in the academy before you both met Pure Vanilla Cookie.

You didn’t fail to catch on how the two felt about one another and was giddy to finally see them become an item! It did hurt a little at first in terms of White Lily Cookie, but you were ultimately happy for her in the end.

It inspired you to try and find love of your own, a cookie that you wanted to share your life and give all your love to. A cookie you would swear to protect and remain loyal to until death did you two part.

You felt like you could take on DE herself when you finally found the one. Seeing their warmth and that joyous smile of theirs made you feel all cheery and happy inside, it was fate that you and them had met! Before long, it was time to announce the wedding! You had sent out letters to all your close friends, it would mean a lot to you if they showed up!

Oh look at the clock! It was wedding prep time! You decided to go ahead and write the letters of invitation to the cookies you have grown most close to! With that, two particular cookies came to mind as you wrote. You were so excited to have them be there for you when you finally exchanged vows with your dearest fiancé. Oh how you wished to see the looks of joy for when they read your invitation letter!

———————————————————————

“N-No! It….it couldn’t be…it CAN’T be! Y/N Cookie….no…..NO!”

Pure Vanilla tried to comfort a destroyed White Lily, her hands over her eyes as tears flowed down from them, a letter on the floor in front of them that fell after White Lily fell to her knees. Pure Vanilla was trying to figure out what was wrong, White Lily couldn’t speak through her tears.

Pure Vanilla gazed down at the letter in front of them…

…and those words would forever be etched in his mind.

“You have been invited to the wedding ceremony of Y/N Cookie and…”

The name of your fiancé was covered by the letter, but it was all Pure Vanilla wished to see, he couldn’t bare to read the rest of it…

Both of them sat on the ground in their home, feeling empty and broken. Pure Vanilla was still taking in those words….

Y/N Cookie….his friend whom he loved dearly, getting married? W-why? When? How? All these questions and no answers to them, which only added to his state of confusion and despair…

But it was White Lily who was taking it the hardest…

She didn’t understand…

Who was this cookie you were marrying?

What gave them right to marry you…?

Over Pure Vanilla?

Over her?

What did this cookie have that she didn’t?

Just picturing you being happy with this cookie made her fall more into sorrow as she couldn’t stop the tears.

She and Pure Vanilla would love you way more then this fiancé of yours could. The more she thought of your life with this cookie only served to bring more sorrow to her heart...

She felt her grip on her staff tightened up, she wanted to find this fiancé…and hit them over the head again, and again, and again, AND AGAIN until they were nothing but crumbs and jam.

Yes, all for the crime of taking the hand of the cookie Pure Vanilla and she were meant to be with…

To her, it was the biggest crime a cookie can ever commit to her eyes, an unforgivable offense to her that only deserved an equal punishment.

Pure Vanilla, on the other hand, was thinking of ways to hurry the process and confess before this fiancé of yours corrupted you any further, his thoughts not anywhere near as foreboding as White Lily’s…yet.

He refused to believe you were in love of them willingly, it had to be a forced marriage! To be marrying a cookie in such short time (in his perspective)…he had to save you from this cookie!

White Lily was going to crumble this fiancé and anyone who stood in the way of a happy life for all three of you. She will show just how much her love far exceeds above all else, how she’s the one you’ll walk hand and hand with, the one you’ll love and cherish for as long as she lived…

But for now, all she could do is weep alongside Pure Vanilla, her tears trickling down and onto the letter, standing the paper.

“Please….please don’t leave me…”

“I don’t want you to go…”

“I don’t want to lose you at my side, Y/N Cookie…”

“Y/N Cookie….don’t leave us alone….”

#cookie run x reader #cookie run x you #cr x reader #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run #fanfic #cookie run kingdom #cr kingdom #pure vanilla crk #white lily crk #white lily cookie #pure vanilla cookie #pure vanilla cookie x reader #white lily cookie x reader #cookie run angst #yandere cookie run kingdom #yandere cookie run

[franklespine]

Lucifer telling Sam "you've gone soft" in 11.10 is soooooooooooooooo...

Yes it's all a manipulation tactic, but Lucifer walking Sam through his memories, things that seem a lifetime ago, saying this is how you were before: bold and decisive - this is the Sam that saved the world, this isn't you anymore - when Lucifer is the reason why Sam is the way he is now. Insane. There are rare moments of gold in supernatural and one of them is when they play on the psychological horror in the fact that Lucifer; his torturer, tormentor, abuser and other half of his soul is the one that knows him best. He knows how powerless Sam feels - now that he's got lifetimes of trauma from the Cage that have skinned and flayed him on every level. His rigorous, borderline obsessive routine he keeps in his daily life through exercising and healthy eating - all to maintain a semblance of control. Yet deep down, it's like he told Rowena in s13:

"It’s not going to change anything. You’re still going to feel helpless."

Just as Lucifer knew that playing on Sam's desperate faith in religion and scramble to achieve purity (to be saved - as he said in s2) would be the only thing to get him to even go near the Cage, Lucifer knows that throwing back in his face his increased docility as time goes on as Sam's true failure and the reason why he will fail everyone around him is the only thing that could make Sam let himself be Lucifer's vessel. The way he spins it to sound like Sam not letting Lucifer out is proof of his weakness and helplessness. What if that was my last straw?

This scene, this whole episode, was so good and it made me want to claw my eyes out.

Lucifer calls him prissy. He says I never liked you but at this point - when you made the hard choice to save the world and condemned yourself in the Cage to me in holy matrimony, I respected you. You're not that person anymore. You're soft and placid and weak and that's something to be ashamed of. You're going to doom the world now because you're too screwed in the head. Look at you and your first romantic affairs when you were younger - Solid B on the tongue action - yes I know that about you too.

Lucifer being all righteous in saying that its the fact that Sam and Dean would do anything to save each other that is the problem that keeps dooming the world. And it's horrible because Sam knows he's right, the viewer knows he's right - their codependency is their moral pitfall, but it's all spiraling to the worst conclusion.

Tell you what - the second half of s11 can shove it's sympathy for the devil routine down my throat all it wants, but I will never stop hating that slimy bastard. The potential of s11 was unmatched in reaping psychological warfare on Sam, and it was a shame that it played out in such a... goofy... unnuanced... cheap semblance of a redemption arc... way that it did. But still, it is scenes like this one that pull through to make the season worth it.

#supernatural #spn #sam winchester #lucifer #sam and lucifer #s11 #and then after this sam still tells him no #despite it all #I feel like I'm always saying that phrase when it comes to sam #“despite it all” #because in the face of everything he's gone through - still he's innate willpower stands true #his innate ability and ingenuity to think outside the box #to pull on loose threads #even at the risk of tearing his life down #all in the name of doing the right thing #that is something that has stayed consistent to him through everything #even if he has evolved in numerous other ways as a character #in both positive and negative ways #I'm not ready to be your bitch he says #you probably dont even know how to defeat her and then you're just going to start the apocalypse again cause you're a cheap dick #go sammy #fuck him up

[daisybianca]

pairing: charles leclerc x femalereader

summary: getting married to the man himself, charles leclerc.

warning: none, just pure fluff

STANDING IN FRONT of the mirror, you couldn’t believe the woman you were looking at right now, so beautiful.

Wearing a wedding gown, hair tied up and not having much makeup on.

That was you.

You were that woman.

You always have dreamed about what this day would be like since you were almost 20 and here you are about to witness it for real now.

“Hey, you ready?” You heard your best friend say after a slight knock on your door.

“Yeah, come in.” You sighed looking at your reflection one last time and turned around.

“Oh. My. God. You look so beautiful, honey!” Your mom exclaimed as soon as she set her eyes on you.

“Wow, (y/n), Charles won’t be able to keep his hands to himself today, I’m sure.” Your cousin commented earning a smack from (y/b/f/n) on her shoulders.

Your mom walked towards you, having a hard time not to shed happy tears but failed, “I cannot believe my princess will be married in a few minutes." You wiped her tears from your mom's cheeks, using your thumb in a gentle and comforting way. "Oh, I wish your dad was alive to see this day."

“He is with us, Ma. Here in our hearts. He is with us all the time." You assured your mom with a smile and hugged her.

There was a knock on the door which lead you to break the hug. The door opened, revealing your younger brother.

“Excuse me, have you seen my sister? I can’t seem to find her.” Your brother joked making the four women in the room laugh.

“You look incredible." He said and hugged you tight.

“Come on now, I’m not going to tear up like mom. It’s time to go.” He said breaking the hug and kissing you on the cheek.

・❥・

You heard the pianist start playing Canon in D - Pachelbel means you had to start walking down the aisle in seconds. You held your brother's hand tight and sighed nervously.

“Everything will be okay. Don’t worry, I won’t make you trip.” He mumbled to you, placing his palm on yours. You nodded in response and breathed in trying to calm down your racing heart.

The doors opened and you started walking, that’s when you caught a pair of green/blue eyes staring back at you.

There he was.

The love of your life, the man of your dreams standing by the end, waiting for you.

He smiled at you which caused you to blush hard under your veil.

Once you and your brother reached the end, he kissed you on the cheek and placed your hand on top of Charles'.

“Take good care of her.” He said in a very stern voice to Charles and walked off to stand beside your mom.

You could see a few drivers in their seats behind you. You'd wave at them but you just didn't want to ruin the moment with you and Charles.

Your wedding was about you and your husband, Charles. You wanted to feel every damn minute of it.

“We are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in the bonds of holy matrimony.” The priest started.

“Let’s all get to the vows now, (y/n)?”

“Charles, for so long, I wondered if I would ever find my prince, my soul mate, then 5 years ago I met you at a party thinking you were just a friend but instead I found everything that I’d ever been looking for my whole life. And now, here we are with our future before us and I only want to spend it with you. My prince, my soul mate, my best friend.” You said gazing into his eyes.

“Charles?” The priest mumbled.

“I promise to love you, honour you, cherish you as my wife. I vow to hold your hand in my hand to hold your head in my hands and to hold your heart in mine. I love you and I always will. I pledge to be your faithful, honest and loving husband. Let’s build a life of laughter, love, support and charity. Let us create a warm and welcoming space for the good times. Let us be a home for each other, forever and ever.” Charles completed the vows by kissing your knuckles.

“Do you Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc take (y/n) (l/n) to be your lawfully wedded wife?” The priest asked.

“I do.” He didn't hesitate as his eyes found yours.

“Do you (y/n) (l/n) take Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc as your lawfully wedded husband?” The priest then turned to you.

“I do.” You replied with a breath.

“I now pronounce you Husband and Wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

With that, Charles lifted your veil and kissed you passionately as the crowd cheered from the seats.

He slipped his arms around your waist and nuzzled your neck with his nose before kissing you repeatedly up to your ear, where he whispered. “You look so beautiful, Mrs (y/n) Leclerc.” Charles complimented and kissed you again while the crowed continued filling the church with noise. "Words cannot describe how much I love you, my wife."

●○•°•○●

requests are always open for my wags <3

#f1 drivers #f1 #f1 ferrari #f1 memes #formula 1 #charles lecrelc #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc edit #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #formula 1 imagine #formula one #formula 1 memes #formula one oneshot #formula one imagine #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 one shot #f1 smut #f1 fluff #Spotify