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queers-gambit · 5 months

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And Let Me Love You Anyway

[ part two of two ]

prompt: you embark on a secret but passionate affair with the Rogue Prince, and when his wife, Rhea Royce, passes away, he chooses you to wed next - a decision that angers his niece and changes history.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader only description given: red hair and Daemon's able to lift you

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 6.3k+

note: what the fuck is this, Cherry? also two parts 'cause author gets carried away!

warnings: show spoilers, cursing, author has small bouts of feministic ideas, author also really likes the "little birds" storyline (let her live!), wonky brain is wonky, i think hurt and comfort, angst, very mild NSFW (female receiving oral), technically alternative timeline 'cause this goofy-ass author has an overactive imagination, #icanmakehimworse, another reader-episode-insert (this warning is for the fucking losers in my inbox).

part one: "Tell Me Every Terrible Thing you ever did, And let me love you anyway," - Edgar Allan Poe

"Alicent, we're late," you sighed with a frown, wiping your sweaty palms nervously as your necklace was latched in place and perfume spritzed on your pulse points. YES - that included your ankles.

"That's the point, sister, we're supposed to be late. It sends a message."

Your eyes rolled, snipping, "The King will not be pleased. I am not his wife, he can get angry at me, you know!"

"He'll manage," she snapped, glancing at Talya. She continued, "He dismissed Father for telling him a truth he would rather ignore. So much so, after years of service, he'd - "

"Yes, yes, the King removed Father as Hand, sent him back home," you nodded with understanding. "But we both know how he feels about his daughter, The Princess! The rumors circulating would cost him his life in the end, we are lucky he was only sent home!"

"Rumors! Rumors, sister, truly!? Tell me, do you think Father lied?"

"I know he didn't."

"Exactly why we're late to tonight's affair," she huffed, fixing her hair in the mirror again. "It's a statement, it's deliberate. We will stand out, prove we are not happy with the turn of events. Why offer Rhaenyra blind respect when she continues to do as she pleases - regardless of consequences."

You paused, sensing her anger brewing and trying to distract, "You know, Ser Lyonel Strong is not a bad replacement for Father."

"This is not about Ser Strong."

"Isn't it? Father's served long and faithfully, but perhaps it is time for a new guidance. Lyonel Strong is a smart man - qualified, even!"

"Yes," she agreed, turning to face you in a shimmering emerald gown. "But this is still an injustice to our family that I fear I cannot overlook any longer. It's been weeks..."

"Yes," you allotted, nodding with a sigh. "All right, yes, you are right, sweet sister. This is all just - it's a lot to take in, to try and digest. And we talk of playing a game with the Throne - I do not think we've the strength to endure alone."

"This is not about Lyonel Strong, sister! It's about Father and the disrespect the Crown continues to offer. Remember that," she advised softly.

You nodded, "I know, sister."

She frowned, "And remember... They aren't our kin. Despite previous displays of kindness, the Targaryens have made it clear that we are not family to them. They are not blood to us, sister; they will protect their own, not us. If we wish to survive, we will need to ally ourselves."

"I understand," you told your younger sister. "I am not arguing, I know what our reality is now - I merely implore to explore the routes that won't label us as traitors."

"I know, we have much to discuss going forward. But none of that for now," she took a long breath, smiling as she looked you up and down, complimenting, "you look stunning. Truly, you might outshine the bride tonight."

"Let's hope it doesn't come down to that, and that The Princess has a mature bone in her body - though I do not hold out hope." You smiled at her, "But enough about me, you look - you look like a Queen, sister-dearest. Gods, you're gorgeous, you look just like Mummy." The two of you shared an emotional, watery smile; embracing tightly as reality settled in your guts: it was you two Hightower Ladies against the whole of the Targaryen clan. "Come," you decided, taking a deep breath, "are we ready to go? Any later and I fear we might not get any cake."

"Oh, you and cake," she smirked, looking you over in a matching emerald, lighter-weight gown that had layers of thin fabrics clinging and dripping from your form. Golden jewelry was clasped around both your necks, wrists, tight around your fingers, and plugged into your ear piercings.

The Queen took your arm and left the dressing chambers you took refuge in, coming to a gasping halt when you were greeted by a well-groomed man in green velvet. "Father," Alicent exclaimed in shock.

"My daughters," he smiled, offering both arms, "I do believe we are now fashionably late. Hmm?"

"Exactly as we intended," you mused, taking his arm. "How is this possible? How are you here?"

"I was invited, if you believe that," Otto answered, the three of you walking slowly. "Though, I suspect your sister had something to do with that?"

"I only told Viserys I'd be deeply offended if you were ignored for this event," Alicent quipped.

"None the less, I am happy to escort my daughters to such a historic event," he spoke diplomatically, aware of the guards and servants milling around. Otto lead the way to the Throne Room - where you could hear King Viserys' echoing speech from the foyer.

None of you spoke, approaching the open doors and pausing to let everyone see the united Hightowers. Alicent wore her dark auburn locks pulled back from her face to cascade in thick ringlets down her back, your own Hightower-red hair left down around your face with the longer locks pinned off your neck. The entire room - the entire court - all wedding attendees and royal procession stared at you three in shock for entering during the King's speech. Your statement was clearly made.

Even from this distance, you could see how startled Rhaenyra was by your arrival, needing to fight off a smirk of amusement in order to keep your neutral façade.

You and Alicent walked arm-in-arm with your father, the once-Hand, down the stairs and up the aisle of banquet tables full of people, staring forward and giving no emotion away. The people buzzed in quiet gossip. The attending Hightowers of Oldtown, sitting closest to the royal banquet table because of their relation to the current Queen, stood first; everyone else following in a show of respect.

You and Alicent paused to let Otto sit with his relatives at the lower banquet table before joining arm-and-arm together. Over the muttering of the entire room, you whispered almost mutely, "Be kind, remain composed, we'll kill 'em with kindness."

Alicent gave a subtle flex to give indication she understood.

When you looked up at the table you approached under the King's heavy glare, you noticed there was an empty chair between Ser Strong and... Prince Daemon? Was that really him? When did he get here? Why was he back? It's only been a few weeks!

Your shock did not slow you, and as you approached the table reserved for the Royal Family, you saw Daemon smirking at your theatrics. Alicent did not let you part from her side as she greeted Princess Rhaenyra with a sickly-sweet voice, "Congratulations, stepdaughter. What a blessing this is for you."

She ignored any other reaction to let go of your arm, kiss her husband's cheek in greeting, stand beside him, in front of her chair, and stare forward with zero other emotion.

"Congratulations, Princess," you whispered, bowing your head. "Your Grace," you acknowledged, doing the same and taking the empty chair between Lord Hand and Rogue Prince only to stoically stare forward in silence. You did as Alicent did, not looking at any other, and just waiting for a pregnant moment that seemingly never ended.

"Please be seated," Viserys finally permitted, everyone sitting at his behest. He cleared his throat, whispering to Lyonel Strong, "Where was I?"

"The joining of the two Houses, Your Grace."

You swallowed when a warm hand laid on your right thigh, Viserys continuing his speech. You glanced at Daemon, seeing his smirk, and instead of throwing his hand off you, you laid your own over his to give a long squeeze. You had wrestled with the idea of his favorite whore, Mysaria, and the idea of whatever he did with Princess Rhaenyra for weeks. Then when you heard word that his wife, Lady Rhea Royce, had met her untimely end, you knew he was involved, yet said nothing. You could only think deeply about what it all meant - and how you fit into the equation that was Prince Daemon Targaryen.

Tell me every terrible thing you ever did...

All you could understand was the overwhelming affection you held for him. His shocked-wide-eyes found yours for a long moment, seeming communicating telepathically - you telling him you wanted him. His hand tightened to keep hold of yours, hidden from the public for the time being.

And let me love you anyway...

You tuned back into the King's speech in time to clap with the others, showing your support of the union you technically helped influence between Targaryen and Velaryon.

However, you caught the way Alicent glared at Rhaenyra, sighing to yourself; having heard through long private dinners what Alicent came to know and why this upset her so much. How strange to learn Ser Criston Cole admitted to Ali that he was coerced into soiling the Princess' purity - not her Uncle Daemon, like rumored. Yet none the less, the girl had sworn on her beloved, dearly departed mother to Alicent that she was still a maiden... A huge, glaring lie - that both you and Ali took personally.

You found all of this terribly interesting, yet did not let the distain show so boldly. After Daemon came to you in confession, you had yet to speak a word outside of public politeness to the Princess; feeling betrayed by what your lover had told you. He had been right: you were Rhaenyra's friend, she wasn't yours. So, you demoted yourself to create distance.

When the drums rumbled and the Princess took to the dance floor with her intended, you spared Daemon a look and muttered, "You do not have to look so annoyed."

"I'm not, sweet one."

"Nor so amused," you tacked on.

Daemon smirked at you, leaning in and pondering, "I am only wondering if you would care for a dance later, my Lady?"

You lied, speaking in a teasing tone, "I'm not one for dancing, my Prince."

"A single dance with me, then. Just one, pretty lady."

"You're pushy," you whispered, nudging him to keep quiet; but the grin on your lips assured him you were completely enraptured by his antics.

He sat back with a smirk, watching his niece and her fiancé dance. The entire courtroom clapped at the end, others flooding to the spaces around them. You glanced over as your sister stood from her seat, meeting your eyes and offering only a soft smile before descending from the table to approach your aunt and uncle from Oldtown - standing with your father on the side of the room. You sighed under your breath, your lover tightening his grip on your thigh.

Daemon made for a great distraction. "Did you hear the news?" He asked softly, reaching for his goblet of wine with his free hand.

"Which news would that be, my Prince?" You asked casually, pretending your heart wasn't hammering in your chest.

"Of my dear wife's passing."

"I did, actually," you fought off your smirk. "I am truly sorry to hear of it, I understand Lady Rhea was truly one of a kind. You shouldn't speak ill of the dead, love," you reminded in a whisper.

"Hmm. Don't be sorry, I'm not," he eased.

"You're not? Your wife died, Daemon..."

"I know," he met your gaze, "I'm not sorry because now it gives me vocation to follow my own desires."

You smirked, "Which desire will you follow first?"

His hand tightened to a bruising grip. He was not able to answer yet because your gaze was caught by movement, Rhea Royce's cousin approaching slowly, evidently a cup or two deep in the wine; making you remove Daemon's hand so you both could sit casually - without touching.

The man gruffly leered at Daemon, "In the Vale, men are made to answer for their crimes." Your lover spared you an exasperated look as he tacked on, "Even Targaryens."

"Who are you?" Daemon asked dully.

"This is Ser Gerold Royce, my Prince," you told him softly, "of Runestone."

Daemon perked his brow, asking sarcastically, "An excellent show of your knowledge, my sweet lady, but what does that matter to me?"

You didn't answer, Ser Lyoel Strong (who was listening in) didn't answer, because Ser Gerold was approaching the table by climbing the stairs. He growled at Daemon, "I am cousin to your late Lady wife."

"Ah, yes... Terrible thing," Daemon offered. "I'm positively bereft. Such a tragic accident."

"You know better than anyone, it was no accident."

Through a smirk, Daemon quipped, "Are you confessing some guilt, Ger Gerold?"

"I am making an accusation."

You shared a look with Lyonel to your left, catching sight of the King's turned head - showing he was listening, too. Daemon easily deflected, "Here, in King's Landing, men are made to answer for their slanders. Even old bronze cunts like you." This angered Ser Gerold visibly, the man stepping closer, but obviously restrained himself. Your lover continued, "The truth is I'm glad you've come. I wish to speak to you about my inheritance."

"What inheritance?" Ser Gerold demanded.

"Lady Rhea and I had no heirs. As her husband, whatever she was due now passes to me. She stood to inherit all of Runestone. Did she not?" Daemon had Ser Gerold pinned by legality, the man looking disturbed by his own realization. So, naturally, Daemon taunted, "After my niece's wedding, I plan to fly to the Eyrie and petition Lady Jeyne myself. Perhaps I'll see you there, Ser Gerold."

The man sheepishly walked away, his inebriated mind whirling with possibilities. You glared, pinching Daemon's arm so you could scold him when he turned to face you, "That wasn't very kind."

"And?"

"You don't truly care for Runestone," you snapped. "Now that man will fear for his home, fret over the laws, and that's not very nice."

He sighed, "What would you have me do, sweet one?"

"Leave House Royce to grieve and rearrange their succession without your pettiness."

Daemon smirked, "Whatever my Lady wants."

"You're dreadfully annoying tonight, do you know that?" You whined. "I'm going for a dance, and no, this is not an invitation to follow," you warned him - albeit playfully - before standing to excuse yourself.

"Sister," Alicent paused you before you could pass her by. "Are you well?"

"Yes, yes, just felt like dancing, too much energy to just sit. Come join - "

"No, no, I should sit. Eat," she smiled. "Perhaps tonight will be when you meet your match and we can plan another wedding."

"Perhaps," you mused, squeezing her hand. "You all right? What did Father and Uncle say?"

"Later," she whispered. "Go on, go."

You joined the stream of people dancing, instantly grinning when you were welcomed joyfully by different suitors. The band played a lively beat, the crowd cheering in rhythm; you being twirled around men and women with matching grins.

You heard your name being cheered through a small giggle.

"Hi, Princess," you greeted Rhaenyra as you both marched along to the beat. You reminded yourself this was all a game and if you wanted to survive, you'd have to play your part strategically. So, you quipped as you danced with Ser Arryn Blackwell, "Nice party you've got, huh?"

"Oh, you know how we Targaryens do," she teased. "Where've you been lately? I feel as if I've hardly seen you."

"Just busy with chores since Father was replaced as Hand," you answered, spinning under someone's arm.

Nyra didn't comment on that, instead, waiting a few moments before complimenting, "That's a beautiful dress, really goes with your hair!"

"That's what I hoped for," you gasped girlishly, deciding to play nice when she reached for your hands. You felt weak for a moment, but the truth was, you missed your friend... So, you might've giggled a bit when you joined hands, dancing together instead of with anyone else. With kindness, you offered, "You look gorgeous, as well, Princess, I love this dress - "

"Yes, yes, we all look fantastic," Daemon interrupted abruptly, crowding over you, asking quickly, "can I speak to you a moment, my Lady? The Princess won't mind, right, Rhaenyra?"

"Uh, no, I guess..." She eyed the two of you with suspicion as she stayed in-beat with the music.

"Daemon, not now - "

"We need to talk," he pulled you from where you danced, glancing back at the head banquet table as he took your hand, and lead you deeper into the crowd. He turned you to face him, pacing a small circle around you, demanding, "Do you still want to marry me?"

"What? Why are you asking now?"

"Because I just asked your father for permission," he seethed, pausing in front of you, "and he outright refused, saying he's negotiating with the fucking Lannisters. I need to know what you want."

"I was not aware what I wanted mattered to you, the man who views marriage as a political arrangement," you eyed him with a curled lip of annoyance.

"What arrangement could I want? Your sister is Queen, my family is bound to the Hightowers already. My political marriage is recently dissolved, I am free to do as I please, regardless of what others want or say - "

"Then tell me what you want. Tell me plainly what you want from me, Daemon, no more pretty words and veiled truths. Be plain."

"You said I had a year, and look - it's been weeks. Weeks, my love, how much more plain can I be? I'm here, now, free to marry, and I need to know if you still want to marry me. I'll marry you tomorrow - "

"Oh, please! Would you steal me away?" You mocked with a chuckle. "Take me to Dragonstone? Make me your little wife that you'll come to resent, too? Just as you did Rhea?"

He reached out to aggressively hold your cheek and jaw. "I had no choice in my first marriage, I could never come to resent you - you're all I've ever wanted. I'd do anything for you," Daemon snarled over your lips, "including risking your father's wrath. I'd do anything to make sure we end up together, you are my heart - do not forget that."

"Then pull out your sword, cut them all down," you purred, feeling his hand tighten, "and claim me as your own - do not let anyone stop us."

His lips hovered over yours, breathing the same air, and before he could respond or kiss you, a woman screamed shrilly from behind you. Daemon instantly latched onto your body as a crowd formed to your left and right, and when you both looked, you were shocked to see the commotion happening at your feet.

"Love - "

"Daemon," you paused him, shocked as Ser Criston Cole was engaged in a fist fight with some Velaryon knight before Ser Laenor Velaryon, the groom, was tackling him to the side. What an interesting display of protectiveness from Ser Laenor over his knight.

Daemon rushed in your ear, "Do not look - come away with me."

"Wait," you held his hands to your waist, letting him crowd into your back as Cole had punched Laenor to the side and straddled the blonde on the floor once more.

He landed one blow before the knight was brandishing a dagger; but the White Cloak caught his arm and easily snapped it broken, startling the crowd. Beyond your ring of spectators, other men were trading blows and engaged in their own fights; total chaos taking over the whole of the Throne Room. You flinched back into Daemon's embrace when Cole screamed like a wild man in the mountains, repeatedly pounding his fist into the knight's face; literally caving it in, creating a human minced meat pie.

Someone better contact Mrs. Lovett!

"No more," Daemon decided, Cole rearing himself back as Daemon stooped to heave you over his shoulder. He was able to find safe (enough) passage through the people, approaching the royal banquet table. "Hey, hey," he whispered, setting you down and taking your face in his hands, the wailing of Laenor Velaryon seeing his murdered knight echoing in the Throne Room. "You all right? You hurt? Look at me, love, are you hurt?"

"No, no, I'm okay," you whispered, swallowing unsurely; reaching up to hold his wrists. "I'm okay."

"Sure? You shouldn't have seen that - "

"It's all right," you assured, stroking his wrists. "I'm okay, Daemon, truly. Just... A little startled, maybe?"

"What's this then?" Harwin Strong smirked, panting lightly from his rescue mission as the Princess was attending her father, the King. "You two hit it off then, yeah? Is it me or are sparks flying?"

"Something like that," you whispered, trying to regulate your breathing after the adrenaline-inducing scrimmage.

"Easy does it, love," Daemon whispered, keeping you close as you didn't let go of his hands; wanting to stay connected. He told Harwin, giving a half-shrug, "They aren't sparks. She's everything to me."

"Perhaps your second wedding will go better than this one," Harwin sighed, hands on his hips.

"In some cultures, deaths at a wedding are considered good luck," you muttered, Daemon snorting lightly in amusement before running his thumbs over your cheekbones in soothing gestures.

"Didn't your wife just pass, Prince Daemon?" Your father demanded publicly with a heavy glare. "You'd offer insult to her memory by remarrying so quickly?"

"I've grieved Lady Rhea plenty, Ser Hightower, it's time to look to the future," Daemon declared, eyes daring your father to challenge him. "The Lady Hightower and I will wed. The sooner, the better, in truth."

And history would never be the same.

"What?" Rhaenyra demanded, whirling around at the news, making all others pause in confusion. "What did you say?"

"That I intend to marry the Lady Hightower."

"Her? Her? Fucking her - who is more prude than woman?!"

Well, that was mildly offensive...

"Rhaenyra - "

"What makes you think you're worthy?" She demanded of you, turning from her father to stalk across the platform. "Worthy of a man like Daemon, of a husband like Daemon? You've done nothing to - to deserve such a title! The title of Princess, of wife!"

You were honestly confused to your core.

"I deserve a man like he - not someone like you!" She continued, shocking the group as the Kingsguard cleared the Room of any lingering stragglers to keep this as private as possible. "You think I didn't see you on my tour? You were fawned over, all wanted to talk with you, but were forced to line up for me! You rejected them all on your own, and now I see why! You wanted to wait until the Lady Rhea passed, which makes me wonder - what part did you play in that?"

"Rhaenyra!" You gasped.

"What? Honestly, it would make sense - the day Daemon's banished, you weren't seen! I wouldn't be shocked if you were seen somewhere lurking in the Vale! You cannot have it all - you've always wanted my life, and now look! You have to have what I have, and now you've taken a liking to my uncle after our scandal! What? He wasn't interesting before? You heard rumors about us and decided you wanted him for yourself? Just because he was mine first? You just want to be me, you always have - you've always reeked of jealousy! This is all you wanted, to steal my family, and - "

"That's enough," Daemon tried. "You are out of turn here, Rhaenyra, do not make this worse."

"Why? Because little Lady Hightower's façade of being a respectable, pure woman is now tarnished?"

"We share one dance, albeit intimate, sit next to each other at a single dinner, shared some conversation, and you now think it's appropriate to call my virtue into question? What of your own, Princess? You just admitted to scandal with Daemon - but I wonder why the service of Moon Tea if your virtue was unimpeachable?" You demanded, feeling defensive on a new level. Even Alicent straightened up at your words.

However, Daemon rushed to add, "With all due respect, Princess, I don't want you, and you can't claim me as your own when you never had me. You might be angry, but it is no use to take it out on my intended, she is of rare stock and breed - she will not be questioned. Nor will my intentions with her."

Rhaenyra snarled, "Yeah? You don't want me? Well, you wanted me enough to try and fuck me at that whorehouse!"

There were gasps and murmurs all around, but Rhaenyra was glaring at you and Daemon, still standing together. His arms actually dropped to hold your waist, keeping you close as he snarled at his niece, "But I didn't. If memory serves right, I walked away!"

"You wanted me!" Rhaenyra raged. "You always were and always will be mine - regardless of the whores you bed in the meantime! And I want you, I am not yet married - "

"Yet I will not be who marries you, I am betrothed to another," Daemon reminded with a venomous tone. "There's nothing you offer that I want, Rhaenyra."

"I am not some inexperienced little girl anymore, I'm a woman grown, and I could do more for you than she ever could!"

"Rhaenyra!" Viserys roared.

Everyone knew she had gone too far and there was no coming back from any this. After a beat, Alicent stepped in as if questioning for the first time, "And yet, sister, you said the Princess was served Moon Tea? If Prince Daemon did not touch the Princess, does this mean she still," she scoffed as if the idea were absurd, "sullied her maidenhood? Before marriage?"

It should be noted that Ser Criston Cole was already gone from the hall at this time. In fact, he lingered just outside a side door, listening, in case his name came up. When Alicent spoke, he straightened up and started the slow trek to the Godswood.

"Ser Lyonel? Do I misunderstand?" Alicent pulled the Hand into the fray.

"Well, that's what that would sound like, Your Grace," he agreed begrudgingly. "Moon Tea is beneficial to prevent unwanted consequences outside of marriage."

"From what I understand, she was served by Grand Maester Mellos himself," you told Ali, minds strung together by a common thread. "The castle likes to gossip, you can learn a lot if you just listen."

"This is..." Viserys seethed, "Unacceptable."

"I'm sorry, Your Grace," you instantly apologized.

"No, no," he deflected, hand held up, "you have a duty to the Realm to flesh out any deception. And this," he directed his glare at his daughter, "is a grand deception that cannot be undone, unknown, covered-up, anymore, Rhaenyra!"

There was a meltdown. Everyone began yelling.

Viserys was enraged. Rhaenyra was desperately trying to plead with her father. Lord Corlys was demanding to know what the hell was about to happen with the impending marriage to "the future Queen". Ser Strong was trying to keep the people from each other's throats.

His sons stood to the side and just let them all fight.

Daemon kept you out of the line of fire, away from the action; sighing as you deflated into his chest. Over it all, Viserys' voice was angriest, and you heard, "You are no daughter of mine! The position you have put me in tonight - I cannot undo this, Rhaenyra! I should have never disinherited Daemon for you, breaking centuries of tradition because I wanted to see your mother in you! You have spat in my face around every bend, but this? This is unforgivable, we will not recover from this and I will no longer endure your insolence!"

"Father, please, let me - "

"No," he snarled, "I have had it with your disresepct the past several years, this is beyond any scale." You blinked up at Daemon, his lips curving down as his hands tightened around your form. And then, Viserys said the words, "I made a mistake naming you my heir. You may marry Ser Laenor, if you so choose to, but after that, you will reside on Driftmark with your husband - you will no longer inherit the Iron Throne after me."

"Father!"

"No," he snapped, "you've exhausted my patience, Rhaenyra!" Viserys roared. "And while Daemon might be unpredictable, the woman he wants to marry is not - and from where I am standing, she will make a far better Queen than you!"

It was quiet as everyone forgot their own selfish woes as father disinherited daughter.

"Your Grace," your father tried to step in, "with respect, why not place your son, Aegon, in line after you?"

"Oh, for the love of the Gods, Otto," Rhaenyra raged, rounding on your father, "give up this campaign, you get all you want and more! Your daughter is Queen now and your other daughter will be Queen after that, aren't you listening? Your grandchildren will still inherit the Throne!"

"That's it," Viserys breathed, needing to hold onto the banquet table for balance as all eyes turned to him again. "It's time to do what I should've done all along. Rhaenyra," he shook his head, "I can no longer have you as my heir, this type of behavior cannot stand. I will give you permission to marry Ser Laenor, and if he chooses not to, I will allow you to reside on Dragonstone until a match is made. Until then," his eyes shifted to where you and Daemon stood, "I name my brother, Prince Daemon Targaryen, as my Heir to the Iron Throne."

"You would not name your son?" Alicent asked in mild disbelief.

"No," Viserys told her, "no, I would see my brother as my heir. Should Aegon prove to live up to his namesake, we can talk about succession again, but I know my brother is capable... And though he might be overly wanting, he will learn patience, because I know the love of a good woman can change a man for the better."

You smiled, feeling emotional for a moment, but Daemon asked for you both, "Brother, do you mean to give your blessing?"

"Of course," he nodded once, "why waste a good wedding tourney? We shall announce on the morrow our new intentions - to crown Daemon as heir and marry him to the Lady Hightower. This matter," he panted, glaring at everyone, "is resolved, I will not hear more. Make the preparations!"

It happened in slow motion. Rhaenyra's rage flared to a temperamental height previously unknown; lunging to seize her father's Valyrian Steel, prophesy-engraved dagger, turn, and charge straight for you as the remaining audience shouted in panic. You felt Daemon try to push you behind him, but instead, your own temper flared and you stepped up to meet Rhaenyra; catching both her arms to hold her at bay.

Daemon was at your flank if you needed him, otherwise, he kept the Kingsguard away from you two - knowing this needed to happen now. Or else something worse would happen later...

"For fuck's sake, Princess! What is this? Jealousy? Huh?" You asked through your tears, struggling to hold your old friend's weight away from you. "What is this jealousy, Nyrie, hmm?"

"Don't call me that," she grit. You just sighed, pushing her back a little but not enough to overpower her; the girl's anger making her stronger than you would've previously guessed. "You've gone too far," she seethed through tears.

“I? What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the Kingdom, the family, the law. While you flout all to do as you please! Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It’s trampled under your pretty foot again!"

"You think you finally get my life, huh?" She snarled. "You won't ever be accepted - not as Queen - not as part of this family! You've wanted this all along! Haven't you!?" She struggled against you, hands sweating. "You've always wanted my life, that's why you stuck around! Your mother died - so you tried to take a place in my family, make them yours - and now, look! You're nearly there! Pouncing on my uncle the moment he's widowed!" She snarled, bearing her teeth.

“Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are, Nyrie," you whispered with a broad smirk.

"You aren't fit to play this part! To have my life! You'll never be accepted as their Princess!"

"I wager I'll do a better job than you ever could," you hissed. "There's not much to live up to, you don't leave a lot of room to fill."

She screamed when Ser Harwin's arms seized around her waist, but the momentum of him pulling her back and Rhaenyra's thrashing cause the Valyrian Steel dagger to slice your forearm. You yelped and reared back amongst the startled gasps and panicked murmurs from the crowd, Daemon catching you. The dagger clattered to the floor as Harwin backed up several paces to keep the belligerent girl at bay. You whimpered quietly at the sting, a pool of blood forming to the side you held your arm at.

"Fuck's sake," Daemon growled, "lemme see, lemme see, my love, c'mere," he winced, looking around before using his own belt to yank free and tourniquet around your lower elbow. "You're bleeding a good bit," he whispered, "you'll need stitches, sweet one."

You pouted at him, wincing again in pain when he tightened the belt.

Around you, the Kingsguard was ordered to escort Rhaenyra to her chambers, and the moment she was marched out of sight, Daemon was warning his brother that she knew about her secret passage door and parts of the tunnels.

Go stand watch," a personal guard was ordered by the King. "Someone go - go find Ser Cole - I want him posted in the Princess' passage, he's trusted to us."

Alicent slunk off to do exactly that, and she'd tell you later that Cole was found only moments from taking his own life. He was overjoyed to hear the King had requested him personally to stand guard for such a sensitive situation.

In the meantime, Lord Corlys Velaryon and his wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, thought it best their son not marry Rhaenyra; now that she had been disowned, she was less appealing. Viserys was free to offer her again later if Laenor was not married in that time and if she showed true change, but after tonight, nobody thought that possible.

Daemon tried helping your wound, your father approaching as he laid a clean cloth over the cut. Your lover tisked, "It's deeper than I thought. We should get this looked at."

"A moment," Otto prevented.

"If it would please you, this is not an injury I'd like to wait to attend to," Daemon sighed, nodding at your bloodied forearm that he held.

"I only meant to say, you have my blessing to marry, my Prince," Otto nodded at him. "Seeing the kindness you show my daughter, I feel... Content knowing she will be loved and cared for."

"Thank you," Daemon nodded.

"Yes, thank you, Father, but we really must be going, this doesn't feel very nice," you rushed to explain, watching him nod and eye your injury with worry.

"This way," He even instructed, a few handmaids rushing forward to help herd you away.

"Doing all right, love?" Daemon muttered as you walked.

"Bit shocked," you admitted.

"I'd say," he mused.

"It burns," you pouted at him.

"We'll get everything tended to, you'll feel better soon," he soothed.

You peaked up at his worried brow, pouted lips, darting eyes; whispering, "You're heir, again, Daemon."

"So it would seem," he deadpanned. "Can we not talk about it now?" He requested quietly, "I only wish to see to this wound of yours."

You nodded, and once in Mellos' chamber, you were left alone with your father - since Daemon was not yet your husband. Otto was silent as your forearm was stitched carefully; the bleeding staunched, herbs stuffed in the wound to prevent pain and promote healing. As you let Mellos wrap you in gauze, you glanced at your father.

"So... Your blessing, is it?"

"He's different with you already," he nodded stiffly. "And after his nieces' display tonight, I can think of no better future Queen."

"I do not wish to talk about future station, Father, but instead, that... That Daemon makes me happy and I am relieved you have given us your blessing. It would've felt very wrong to marry without my father in attendance."

Otto wasn't affectionate in the least bit, but he showed his love by doing his best to understand situations before passing judgement. It created a sense of trust and security between father and daughter. So, he asked earnestly, "And you will overlook what he did with Princess Rhaenyra?"

"He told me of it all the morning after it happened, I've had time to think, and I've had time away from him. I know what I want, Father, and while Viserys has changed history - again - tonight by naming Daemon heir, I know he is the man I want for the rest of my life."

"I see," he nodded. "Then... By all means, I will see this union happen."

"Thank you," you whispered, the Maester tying the gauze. "Thank you, Grand Maester," you spoke calmly.

"Of course, uh, um, Princess."

"I don't think I'll get used to hearing that," you whined, standing off his table. "Will you talk to Daemon for me, Father? I think you need to clear the air... I will not say the King will instill you as Hand again, but if I am to marry the Prince, I will need there to be peace between our families."

He nodded, opening the door for you, "It will be arranged, my daughter..."

As Otto took his leave, Daemon, pacing the hall, approached you. He took hold of your waist, asking, "Are you all right?" You let him hold your injured wrist in a soft grip, viewing the wrappings.

"Yes, Your Grace," you teased, watching his pale face flush.

"Don't start with that."

"Mellos just called me Princess."

"You are," he grinned. "And we will be married in less than a week's time."

"I can hardly wait," you whispered, letting his lips find yours in a searing show of rare public affection.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

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lovebugism · 5 months

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hiiii 😊 i LOVE your writing, especially shy!reader!! i heard you wanted more spooky/angsty requests, so...

maybe one with eddie where they're camping with the group around halloween and everyone is telling scary stories around the campfire, but reader gets really scared and doesn't wanna hear any more, but she can tell eddies having so much fun that she doesn't say anything. eventually eddie notices something's wrong but reader won't tell him what, then he figures it out and comforts her?

ty lovie! hope you like it! — eddie comforts you when your imagination runs too wild, maybe a little more than best friends are supposed to (shy!reader, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, 1.5k)

fictober leftovers (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

You know you shouldn’t be as scared as you are, but you keep torturing yourself anyway.

Robin Buckley, as it turns out, has about the same storytelling abilities as Edgar Allan Poe. She spins a web of horror with nothing but a couple wretched words and a wild imagination. Lit up orange by the simmering campfire, you listened to her in wide-eyed horror — like a child just learning about the boogeyman.

She’s stomping out that fire now, laughing loud and pretty after telling Nancy some dirty joke, and acting like she didn’t just get done telling the gnarliest ghost story of all time. You’re frozen on the rickety bench that overlooks the pitch-black lake, too busy convincing yourself that there’s a figure in the treeline — a Jason Vorhees equivalent on his way to murder you in your sleep.

Eddie’s sitting beside you, though. The warmth of his presence puts you at ease, like a belly full of food or a warm bed. You nearly jump out of your skin when he rises from the picnic table.

“Me and Steve were gonna go smoke,” he tells you, pulling a smushed carton of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “You okay here?”

You blink at him for a moment. It takes you a second too long to hear him, having been so stuck in your own head. You don’t trust your voice, so you just nod and try your best to smile something convincing. It’s a grimace, at best.

Eddie sees right through you. You’re rarely so passive with him. He’d only asked ‘cause he doesn’t like to smoke around you much. He knows you don’t like it. Now he’s scared he might’ve offended you in some way.

“You sure?” he presses, bushy brows pinched in concern.

You nod again, much slower this time and far more dramatic.

Eddie smiles down at you, pink and lopsided. This quiet, sarcastic version of you is much more familiar. “Well, are you gonna speak, or are you gonna do the not-talking thing for the rest of the night?”

He flicks a strand of your hair. You squint. What not-talking thing? you’d argue if he didn’t know you so damn well. Instead, you just tell him, “I’m okay,” in the firmest tone your mousy voice can muster.

“Do you wanna come with?”

He cocks a thumb over his shoulder, where Steve’s brave figure ventures up the darkened trail to his dad’s lakehouse. You cower under the weight of his chocolate stare, wringing your clammy hands in your lap.

“Is that okay?” you ask in response.

Eddie scoffs. “Of course, it’s okay! Want you everywhere I go.”

You try not to get all flustered about it. Friends aren’t supposed to burn up like a stove-eye when their best friend is nice to them. It’s impossible not to, though, when Eddie’s leather-clad arm wraps around your shoulders — to keep you close, maybe, or to keep you warm.

Your stomach is in knots about it either way.

You lean further into his warmth. He smells like cologne and boy and a weekend on a lake. You wrap your arms around yourself when a crisp breeze prickles your skin. You clench your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering.

Eddie sees everything you hide from him and holds you tighter. “Told you to wear a jacket.”

“It was warmer earlier!” you retort without missing a beat.

“Well, that’s why you listen to me.”

“I didn’t have a jacket big enough to wear over my sweater!”

“I told you to borrow mine, you loon!”

“But then you would’ve been cold!”

The married couple arguing fills the darkened woods, illuminated only by a dim moon and some amber lanterns hung every couple yards. Something rustles in the pitch-black, and the bickering ceases.

Your heart lurches into your throat. You gasp, almost cartoonishly so, and your sneakers scuff along the gravel when you freeze.

Eddie laughs it off like he always does. The warm, honeyed, boyish noise doesn’t comfort you like it usually does. “It’s okay,” he tries to assure you through his chuckling, squeezing your shoulder with a warm hand. “It’s probably just, like, a rabbit or something.”

You remain frozen and unswayed. “Sounded heavier than a rabbit…”

“What? You are, like, an expert on wildlife now?” Eddie teases, if only to make you smile. You do, but just barely. He holds you tighter and juts his chin back to look down at you, grinning wide to make up for the lack of yours. “You spend one weekend in a cabin, and suddenly you’re a know-it-all on nature?”

You start smiling wider despite yourself. The sparkly feeling Eddie swirls in your chest is much more powerful than the tiny, lingering fear in your tummy.

“I just know what footsteps sound like, dork.”

The rustling returns, louder now. Tree limbs crack when they’re broken beneath the weight of something definitely heavier than a rabbit. When two figures appear from the blackened forest, you stumble into Eddie on instinct. He presses you closer to him without thinking, pulling you backward from the lanky silhouettes across the trail.

One step closer, and the shadows have faces. Jonathan and Argyle stand shoulder-to-shoulder in the tall grass. They’re starry-eyed, gazes rimmed red. The latter lifts the hem of his t-shirt, forming a bowl of something you can’t see.

“Hey, brochachos!” Argyle greets, perhaps a little too loud for the late night.

Jonathan is the only halfway sober one of the two, so he notices the fright dancing in your features before his best friend can. He mumbles, much quieter in comparison to his brightly-dressed counterpart, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“The hell are you guys doing out here?” Eddie wonders with a partly forced laugh.

“Scavenging for mushrooms,” Argyle answers like it’s obvious. He brings down the bottom of his shirt and flashes the makeshift bowl of mushrooms he’s collecting there.

The brunette boy nods. Slow, dumbfounded, and a little impressed. “That is a… totally normal thing to be doing in the middle of the night… We’ll, uh— We’ll leave you to it, I guess.”

“I’ll make sure to save you some!” the Californian boy promises as the two of you head up the trail.

Eddie’s hold on you doesn’t waver. His leather arm is firm in its grip and its delegation to keep you close to his side. You’re halfway stumbling to keep up with his longer strides, but you don’t mind it. You’re just happy to be held.

“You can breathe now, you know?” he teases.

You manage a trembling laugh. You know you have nothing to worry about, but you’re still high-strung and worried without cause. “Sorry. I just… I don’t know— I got a little scared.”

“Yeah. I can tell,” Eddie scoffs. “Feels like I’m hugging a rock right now.”

Your laugh is more genuine this time, but still a bit forced. Eddie can tell. You’ve been quiet all night, reserved and a little standoffish. You’ve always been a little timid in your way, just more than he’s used to now.

“Was it those dumb ghost stories everyone was telling earlier? ‘Cause I said we shoulda just played Spin the Bottle instead.”

You lean further into him to nudge him with your shoulder. “It’s fine. I’m just a baby.”

“No, Robin is just the second coming of Stephen fucking King.”

“Yeah, that’s also probably true,” you concur with a shrug, feigning a sort of nonchalance despite your racing mind. “My imagination is just… a little crazy sometimes.”

“Trust me, I know,” Eddie sighs, then slows down so he can face you more. His features are softened beneath the amber glow — more so when he gazes at you with a honeyed fondness you’re not entirely sure two friends are supposed to have for each other.

You’re cold when he unwraps his arm from around your shoulders — warm again when he holds your cheek in a calloused palm. You hope you’re not burning him with how hot your face has gone.

“I wanna know what’s going on in here,” he murmurs quietly, tapping a ringed finger to your temple.

“It’s a scary, scary place,” you joke back. It’s mostly true, but you figure it’s easier than saying that your brain is so often filled with thoughts of him.

“Well, I’ll protect you from whatever nasty horrors your mean ol’ brain conjures up,” Eddie promises, nose scrunched and dark eyes sparkling.

Your chest swells with a foreign warmth, so hot it burns. “Thanks, Eds,” you mumble, trying your hardest not to melt into a puddle at his feet. The two of you fall into stride once more.

“I’ll even let you sleep in my bed and put your cold feet on me if you want.” He offers it begrudgingly. Like it’s some kind of burden. He doesn’t mind it, though. He’d beg you for it if you wanted him to.

You scoff and roll your eyes. “How chivalrous.”

“You’ll have to put up with Harrington’s snoring, though.”

The two boys are sharing one room while the rest of you girls share the other. You pinch your brows and flash him a pointed look. “Eds, you snore.”

His face screws up in offense. “I do not!”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

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ddostoyevskyy · 9 months

Text

BSD MEN!

↳ AND WHERE DO THEY LOVE TO HOLD YOU.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒... f!reader but can also be read as gn!reader, NSFW, unprotected sex, blowjob, missionary, biting/marking, size kink, slight belly bulge, just some filthy stuff that need to get out of my head.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄... 👁️👄👁️✨

BSD MASTERLIST.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒, 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 — he’s a traditional lover; a classic love making — tangling your hands together in a tight clasp as he drove his hips, cock grazing your sweet spot and creating a smallest of a bulge in your stomach that made your mind blank — the pleasure of his cock pounding in your walls is all you can think of, adding the stimulation of both of your arms raise over your head as he holds it with one hand with a tight grip as you can feel the burning sensation of his nails grazing on your sensitive skin as your hips twitch; you know he’s close by the way his hand clasped on your wrists together were trembling and his moans were getting louder and breathier as you clenched around his cock — followed by a few squeezes of your fingers on his and littering his neck with kisses, adding the stimulation of your cunt squeezing his cock, he came with a breathy moan.

Nakajima Atsushi, Kunikida Doppo, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Tachihara Michizō, Fukuzawa Yukichi —

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐊, 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐉𝐀𝐖 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒 — as his lips hover yours, but not quite touching; teasing you with a smirk on his lips when you seems desperate to kiss him while he fucks you; he loves the fucked out look on your face, though he isn’t any better; his mouth agape, lips swollen and eyebrows furrowed together, his nails graze on your jaw and you can’t look away on his eyes when you’re cumming; eyes rolling back with your mouth fell open as he push his thumb past your lips, sucking on his finger as he followed soon enough with a choked moan.

Nakahara Chuuya, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Dazai Osamu —

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 ��𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒 — as he hooks it on his shoulders, holding your thighs as a leverage to fuck himself deeper and harder as though to chase his impending orgasm that is hurling faster than he expected, his teeth would graze on the expanse of your skin on your inner thighs, creating marks and bites that will surely last longer and will make you not wear skirts the next day; though, that was the point of his marks, he huffed a breath as he was trapped between your thighs, cock ravishing your cunt in a brutal pace as he leaned in to you, the same time your thighs folded over your chest and you whimpered at the sudden stretch of your body folding in half; he had you in a mating press as he cums, your cunt leaking and milking him the same time — his release too powerful that he has no choice but to bite on your inner thigh.

Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Mark Twain —

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 — as you fasten your pace; your jaw slack as your throat restricted when you tried to take as much of his cock on your mouth — his hand tightened around your hair as you whimpered on his harsh grasp and his moans drift on the air when you use your hand to grip on the base where the remaining inches of his cock can’t fit anymore. He’s harshly pushing your hair away from your face, creating a messy ponytail just to take a glimpse of your hooded eyes and swollen lips taking his cock and when he cums — he’s pushing your head down with a grunt as he paints your throat with white thicks of ropes of cum.

Nakahara Chuuya (damn), Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Edgar Allan Poe, Edogawa Ranpo —

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

#bsd fics #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd fanfic #bungou stray dogs x reader #[❤️; niko’s headcannons]#bungou stray dogs smut #bsd smut #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs headcanons

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storiesforallfandoms · 1 year

Text

more than a song ~ alex turner

word count: 2937

request?: yes!

“hi lovely! i wanted to request an alex turner x reader. just something based off of the song you’re so dark by arctic monkeys. he’s been friends with you for a while but a side comment from his girlfriend (something just like she doesn’t get how they’re just friends) and it’s just snaps into place. ig just him writing the song and moments of them together. maybeeeee him jacking off imagining her on all fours 👀. something like that! thank youuuuu”

description: in which he starts by writing a song about his best friend who is much different than him, and it turns into something more

pairing: alex turner x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (male masturbation), kind of cheating since alex is imagining the reader and not his girlfriend (who will be a made up character, not his real girlfriend louise), also the reader doesn’t really know what alex was doing so idk take that into consideration? idk these warnings are a mess now

masterlist (one, two, three)

It all started with a comment his girlfriend, Cheryl, made.

“She’s so dark. How are you two friends?”

They had just left a night out with Alex’s bandmates and his best friend, (Y/N). It was the first time the two women had met, which Alex was hoping would go well since both of them meant so much to him. They had just barley left the bar when Cheryl made the comment.

It amused him so much that he couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Why do you say that?”

Cheryl gave Alex a look. “Really?”

He stopped walking so he could turn to face her. “I’m serious. What do you mean she’s dark?”

“Alex...she talked for nearly an hour about HP Lovecraft and Edgar Allan Poe.”

Alex waited, expecting her to explain why that was a bad thing. When she didn’t, he said, “Yeah, those are her favorite authors.”

“They’re very depressing authors.”

Alex shrugged. “I’ve never read any of their stuff.”

Cheryl closed her eyes and sighed. “She’s got a very dark personality, Alex. Like murder of crows follow her around, Addams family’s long lost member dark. It’s just weird to me that you’re her friend when she’s so depressing.”

“Hey, you may think that, but she’s still my best friend. I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t insult her like that.”

Cheryl crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “Maybe I should be questioning your friendship with her in different ways.”

It was safe to say the night did not go as planned. Alex brought Cheryl home in a tense silence. He gave her a chaste kiss on her cheek before she got out without a word, slamming her door shut behind her.

The night had definitely left a slight strain on their relationship. Cheryl had decided that she hated (Y/N) just because of this idea she had that Alex and (Y/N) had romantic feelings for one another, but Alex refused to end his friendship with her when that wasn’t true at all, and when he had known (Y/N) for so much longer than Cheryl. So, even though they decided to continue their relationship, it wasn’t exactly smooth sailing.

But Cheryl’s comment about (Y/N)’s personality stuck in Alex’s mind. He had never noticed a “darkness” to his best friend. She was just (Y/N), the person Alex had known since they were kids. But now he was thinking about the things she liked, and the way she acted and just her general personality. He found himself humming to himself around his apartment; a melody at first, but eventually lyrics started forming in his mind.

“You got your HP Lovecraft. Your Edgar Allan Poe.”

He quickly rushed to his work desk to scribble down the lyrics as they came to his head.

“You got your unkind ravens, and your murder of crows.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he thought of Cheryl’s comment about (Y/N) being like a murder of crows. What Cheryl didn’t know was that (Y/N) had a tattoo along the backside of her left shoulder that was a flock of black birds. They weren’t distinguishable birds, but she often said it was a murder of crows since they were black birds. Cheryl would probably have lost her mind if (Y/N) was wearing anything that would’ve showed off that tattoo.

Thinking of Cheryl caused his mind to wander to the turmoil of their relationship. He looked down at the verse and chorus he had written about (Y/N) and thought about the fact that he was in the process of writing a song for his best friend when he had never had thought about writing one for Cheryl at all since they started dating. Maybe Cheryl was right to think Alex felt stronger feelings than friendship for (Y/N).

He shook his head. No, that’s not it. She’s my best friend since we were kids, and I’ve only known Cheryl for a few months. That’s all it is.

“I know you’re nothing like mine, cause she’s walking on sunshine. And your love would tear us apart.”

Alex was at his desk for nearly an hour putting the song together. He had two full verses and a rough outline for the chorus, but it still needed something more. He was toying around with more lyrics when he started writing, “You watch Italian horror and you listen to the scores. Leather-clad and spike collar, I want you down on all fours.”

“Whoa,” he muttered to himself. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

But now that he had written it, he couldn’t help but picture (Y/N) doing exactly what he had written: on his bed, down on all fours, her ass in the air.

He shook his head. “No,” he scolded himself. “No, stop. This is wrong.”

But he couldn’t stop. He closed his eyes and the image was embedded into his eyelids. He felt himself straining against his jeans as he imagined himself knelt behind her, looking down at her ass in the wear, wearing only a pair of lacy black underwear.

He groaned as he palmed himself through his jeans. The desire was far too strong to ignore. He had to take care of this, otherwise he knew he’d have a nasty ache between his legs that he would not be able to get rid of.

Just one time, he thought. Then I’ll never think of her like this again.

Alex unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them and his boxers down to his knees. His dick was hard as a rock and angry red. He hissed as the cool air touched the sensitive area. He spit on his hand and wrapped his hand around the base. His head tipped back as a moan erupted from his throat.

He closed his eyes and the image of (Y/N) appeared again. Her face buried into the pillow beneath her, moans muffled by the fabric of the pillow. Alex’s dick plunging in and out of her tight pussy, her ass bouncing every time his hips collided with it. He imagined that her moans were as pretty as her regular voice was. Picturing that pretty voice moaning his name caused his dick to twitch in his hand.

The wet sounds of his hand stroking his dick mixed with his heavy breathing and moans filled the room. His mind drifted from having her bent over in front of him to having her sat on his lap in the very chair where he was sat. He imagined (Y/N), still just in a matching lingerie set, pulling him away from his songwriting so she could climb up onto his lap and straddle him. He imagined her pulling the fabric of her panties to the side, a string of arousal connecting her needy hole and the underwear. He could almost feel the warm, wetness of her walls as she sunk herself down onto him, and her lips on his neck as she started to ride him.

“Fuck,” he grunted. “God, that feels so good.”

His desire to have her grew, even though he knew he never would. She was his best friend. There was no way she felt this way for him, too. And he definitely was not going to risk their friendship by bringing these feelings up to her. More than anything, (Y/N) was his friend and he wasn’t about to lose her all together. For now, the only way he’d have her would be in his imagination, and he was more than okay with that.

Behind his closed eyes he could see (Y/N)’s perfect tits bouncing in his face. He squeezed the base of his dick a little tighter as his jerking motions became quicker, almost more desperate. He could feel his high creeping up on him, and he was desperately trying to chase it.

In his mind, (Y/N) was leaning into his ear. In a sexy, sultry voice, he pictured her whispering, “Cum for me, Alex.”

And that was all he needed to go tumbling over the edge. He called out her name into his empty apartment as his hot cum spilled over his hand, lap, and some on his shirt. He mentally cursed to himself for not preparing more for the mess, but physically he felt incapable of fixing it. He let his head rest on the back of the chair as he breathed heavily. When he opened his eyes to finally face reality, he was looking up at the ceiling instead of at (Y/N)’s beautiful face.

There was a slight ringing in his ears as the blood flow from his brain to his dick finally went down. It was loud enough that he almost didn’t hear his phone vibrating on the desk and took him a moment to realize someone was trying to call him. He reached out with his clean hand to look at the caller ID, and his heart skipped a beat when (Y/N)’s name and face popped up on his screen.

Against his better judgement, Alex answered. “Hello?”

“Where the fuck are you?” (Y/N) asked, a joking tone in her voice. “I’ve sent you, like, five text messages.”

Alex pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the lockscreen to see that (Y/N) had in fact tried to text him.

“Hey fucker, what are you doing?”

“Hello? Alex?”

“Quick wanking off and answer me.” (That one both made him laugh and made his heart pound harder against his chest.)

“Listen, can I come over? I wanted to talk about something.”

“I really hope the reason you’re not answering is not what I think.”

“Sorry, I was - uh - I was busy writing,” he said. It wasn’t entirely a lie. “I got really into it and had my phone on silent. Didn’t even know you were texting me. What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“Well, I’m currently parked outside your place. Can I come in to talk about it?”

He felt his blood run cold. (Y/N) was outside his place right now trying to come in to talk to him, meanwhile he was sat at his work desk with cum over himself after jerking off to the thought of her.

This truly could not be any worse.

“Yeah! Yeah, just give me a second,” he said, quickly trying to figure out a solution to this.

“Alex, I’ve known you for years, you do not have to tidy the place up for me,” (Y/N) said.

“I know, I just need to...I just have to do something before you come in. Give me a second.”

He hung up before (Y/N) could protest any further. He quickly took off his already cum-stained shirt and used it to wipe off his hand and the area around his dick. He threw the shirt with the rest of his dirty clothes, tucked himself back into his jeans, and found a new shirt to put on. Just as he was pulling the shirt over his head, the doorbell started ringing. He quickly raced to his front door and threw it open to reveal (Y/N) stood there.

“Are you done whatever you had to do?” she asked, but pushed past him before he could answer.

“Come on in, make yourself at home,” he teased as he followed her in.

“I always do,” she said with a smirk. “You’re lucky I respect your privacy enough that I didn’t just get that hidden spare key and barge in here before I called.”

Very, very lucky for that, actually.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” he asked her as they reached his living room. “Your texts sounded serious.”

(Y/N) sighed and flopped down onto his couch. Alex sat across from her, leaving a decent amount of space between them. His mind was still reeling from the mental images from earlier that he wasn’t sure if he trusted himself to be so close to (Y/N) right now.

But she seemed very troubled, which was very concerning to him. (Y/N) always talked to him when something was wrong, but very rarely did she physically come over to his place to talk about something. He knew whatever it was had to be very serious for her to show up so suddenly like this.

“I ran into Cheryl at the store just now,” she said, looking down at her lap. “And...well...I know she doesn’t like me. I’m not stupid. I know there’s a reason she doesn’t come out anymore when she knows I’m there, and our brief run ins since we first met always include a glare whenever she sees me. Don’t even try to deny it, Alex.”

He wasn’t going to, but his mouth had been open to speak. He wasn’t even sure what he would’ve said, so he closed his mouth again and allowed her to go on.

“I saw her and decided just to try and avoid her. I expected her to do the same. There was really no reason for her to approach me when it was just her, so I thought. But she came right up to me in the middle of an aisle and she...well, the best way to describe it is she went off on a tirade about not liking me and how she wishes you would just stop being friends with me, and even told me that I should be the one to end our friendship so that she didn’t have to stress about me and you anymore.”

Alex’s hands balled into fists on his lap. He couldn’t believe Cheryl would really go up to (Y/N) like that when he wasn’t around. Like (Y/N), he figured that Cheryl would’ve just walked the other way and left her alone since she disliked her so much. But to go up to his best friend in a public and to go as far as telling her to stop being friends with him for the sake of a relationship that wasn’t even a month in was further than he ever expected her to go.

“I thought you weren’t responding because she got to you first,” (Y/N) continued. “I thought she was going to come to you with some made up bullshit saying that I was the one who attacked her or something.”

“I haven’t heard from her,” Alex said. “I guess she’s waiting till whenever I see her next.”

“Listen, I’m sorry that I’m causing this strain on your relationship - ”

Alex reached out to take (Y/N)’s hand to cut her off. The contact sent a spark through him, but he tried his best to ignore it.

“You’re not the one causing any strain to my relationship. Cheryl is. She’s the one who is feeling so insecure about our relationship that she has to go as far as calling you down to the dirt while I’m not around. I’ve tried everything to assure her there’s nothing to worry about between us, but it’s not enough for her. I think...I don’t think I can continue this relationship with her. Especially not after what you told me.”

(Y/N) looked down at their joined hands. In a soft voice she said, “She’s a fucking bitch.”

Alex smiled and chuckled softly. (Y/N) did as well, and eventually, they were both laughing at her comment.

When the laughter died down silence fell over them. Neither one of them knew how to break it, but they didn’t really feel like they had to. Silence always felt comfortable between the two of them. They never felt like they had to speak if they didn’t want to. They could just sit like this for hours and it would be fine.

But their hands were still joined together. (Y/N) was tracing circles in the back of his hand with her thumb, almost absentmindedly. He liked the feeling of her hand against his. He never wanted to let go of her.

“You said you were writing when I came?” she finally asked, looking up at him. “Anything good?”

“Oh, um, I think so? I haven’t really put it together properly. It’s just a couple verses and a chorus that I have to finish.”

“Can I hear it? Or see what you have written, at least?”

His face burned at the question. He knew he was definitely blushing by the way that a confused look creeped on (Y/N)’s face. How did he show her this song, which was clearly about her and included a line about wanting to fuck her, and not absolutely ruin their friendship in this moment?

“I-I guess, if-if you wanted to,” he stuttered. “But, um...it’s...it’s a little embarrassing because...well, you were my muse for it.”

Her face seemed to brighten. “Really? You were writing about me?”

“Yeah. There’s some lyrics...well, you’d know it was about you the song is released so I guess there’s no getting around it, there’s some lyrics that are a bit...more than friendly.”

And there it was. There was no taking it back.

He watched her face, trying to gauge what her reaction to that revelation would be. She was just looking at him for a moment, as if registering his words, before a smirk crept across her face.

“Then show me,” she told him, her voice low and sultry the exact same way it had been in his imagination.

And Alex swore he had never been more excited than in that moment.

#alex turner #alex turner imagine #alex turner x reader #alex turner smut #arctic monkeys #arctic monkeys imagine #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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lazyjellyfish300 · 4 months

Text

In a vial around your pretty little neck📿🍷

AFAB Reader x Miguel O'Hara

*image not mine, from Pinterest, credit to original owner, if you are the owner let me know and I can credit you or delete*

TW: MINORS DNI, BLOOD, NEEDLE DRAWING BLOOD, SUGGESTIVE SEXUAL CONTENT

Synopsis: you and Miguel are dating. You two want to kick your outward display of devotion to each other up a notch. Your idea: wearing jewelry containing each other's blood.

The Valentine's Day spinoff I posted as a continuation of your relationship

A/N: More Miguel bc the brain rot is real lol 🧛🏾

----------------

You two laid together in the dark at his place (practically yours by now too), the 3 am traffic quietly humming below. You and Miguel had been dating for a year. One passionate, lustful, magical, sex-crazed year. You two went out for hibachi tonight and it wasn't long after that until your brand new dress and heels decorated his bedroom floor.

"Happy Anniversary," he whispered, planting a kiss into your temple.

"Mmmm..." you rolled over, draping your bare figure over his, which caused him to groan and grab you around the back of your neck to pull you in for another kiss. He was about to drift off but he didn't mind losing another 30 minutes to finish what you were starting...

You had something of an interest in the macabre. You had a little emo phase in junior high growing up and dark things like horror and true crime interested you. You loved Tim Burton and Edgar Allan Poe and Halloween was your favorite holiday.

You were also big into Twilight at one point and now that you were dating a guy with fangs it was like your ultimate vampire fantasy come true. You weren't a full blown goth, but while you were scrolling on your phone the other day, you came across an idea that seemed so edgy yet irresistible and sexy.

This fiery relationship you started with Miguel made you feel different. You felt alive and liberated and emboldened to try new things. And it filtered into your physical relationship with one another and he was not complaining one bit. Not at ALL. He never had a partner like you who made him feel so fulfilled and satiated. You made him feel like a man.

"I want a symbol of your devotion," you said breathlessly as he kissed your neck.

"Hmmm.." he paused, sucking a little on one spot, causing you to quiver as the skin turned splotchy red. "What did you have in mind?" He said in a sleepy voice.

"Jewelry..." you started but then evolved into a high pitched gasp as you felt his lips.

Miguel laughed into your skin. "I should've known you'd say that."He sighed and stroked your hair behind your ear.

"It's kind of a crazy idea, just bear with me."

Miguel smiled. "So far I've loved all your ideas. I'm listening."

You look at him with a smile as though you're planning something diabolical. "Blood jewelry."

When you saw Miguel's expression turn skeptical, you giggled.

"Hear me out. Remember how Billy Bob Thornton and Angelina Jolie wore vials of each other's blood when they were together? I wanna do that with you. We can find someone professional to do it and get our blood drawn together. I know it sounds weird and freaky but wouldn't that be so hot? Imagine me walking around with a necklace with your blood in it at all times. "

"Isn't that kind of superstitious?" He smirked. "That seems like something a really sexually charged couple would do at the peak of their romance only for it to fizzle out. I wouldn't want to inadvertently put a curse on this amazing thing we have going."

"Haha it's not witchcraft, babe! I just wanted something unique. I want something of you wherever I go. And I know we're not ready for marriage just yet. But I am committed to you. A hundred percent. People used to do blood oaths to signify the deepest sacrifice and devotion."

"Like the Mafia?"

You burst out laughing. "Babe, we're NOT in the Mafia. Just deeply in love until we take that next step someday when we're both ready..."

Miguel's face softened as you went on with your explanation and realized you were serious. His heart skipped a beat and his face grew warm. He traced your collarbone with his finger.

"Yeah? You'd want my blood to wear around your neck? And I could have the same from you?..."

You nodded looking into his crimson eyes, eager for an answer.

Miguel scoffed and shook his head. "Baby, you are crazy...."

He pressed his lips to yours. "But that's why I love you."

You break into a smile "Is, that a yes?"

"Mhmmm.." Miguel sighed, then looked down at you, draping an arm around your midriff. "Let me handle the lab side of things. I'll ask one of the technicians at my work to do it because if we're really doing this, we're doing it right. I'm NOT going to let us catch a disease on account of your insane little idea," he pressed the tip of your nose with this finger playfully.

"Coming from the guy with literal fangs!" You teasingly squish one of the spare pillows into his face. "I thought you'd be into blood."

Miguel removes the pillow from his face, definitely fully awake now. "They're paralyzing fangs, sweetheart. I inject venom. I don't suck people's blood."

He suddenly pounces on you causing you to squeal excitedly. "You're gonna pay for that."

"Oh yeah?" You smile up at him biting your lip, running your hands along his biceps as he cages you in underneath him. "How's that?"

"You're not walking tomorrow."

Your last train of thought vacated your mind as he fucked you into oblivion.

---------few days later---------

You sat nervously in Miguel's lab at HQ, clicking one of his pens over and over. You were waiting for his lab tech to do the blood draw. Miguel chose a signet ring to wear on his left pinky with your blood in the center stone, and you chose a necklace with a tiny, heart shaped bottle pendant to contain his blood.

Miguel walked over to you, squatting down to your level as you remained sitting on a lab stool, running his large hands along your thighs. "Nervous already?" He asked with a half smile.

"Is it a bad time to admit I don't like needles?"

Miguel laughed. "How on Earth did you survive getting all your tattoos then?" He ran a hand along your thigh piece that was poking out from under your skirt.

"That's different, mister. Tattoo needle pain is way more tolerable than medical needle pain."

Miguel shook his head. "That makes zero sense."

"You wouldn't know!" You scoff.

Miguel chuckled and then kissed your forehead. "I'll hold your hand, babe. Don't worry. If you want, we don't have to do this."

You smile and close your eyes as you feel him kiss your forehead and wrap your arms around him as he lays his head in your lap. "Thanks babe. I'm not backing out now though."

The lab tech walks in carrying a small phlebotomy tray. She's a short, slight woman named Trish who looks to be in her 40s with a blond pixie cut, almost like Tinkerbell.

"Who's first?" She asks with a grin. This was the first ever blood draw she's done for a couple wanting to wear it as a sign of devotion, but hey, she's not judging you two for your kinks. When Miguel offered her extra OT to come in on her day off, she happily obliged.

Miguel noted your nervous expression and rolled up the sleeve of his crew neck sweater first.

His blood draw was quick and easy. His face in the same stoic expression the whole time. He had to inject himself with Rapture on a daily basis so needles were no big deal to him.

He gave you an encouraging smile as he rolled his sleeve back down covering his teal bandage.

You felt your insides liquify as Trish walked over to you and wrapped the orange tourniquet tightly around your arm. Miguel squeezed your thigh harder and reached over and took your free hand in his.

"Look at me, don't look at the needle," he muttered.

You gulped and looked at him, staring into his eyes and he gave your thigh another sympathetic squeeze. You kept staring at him, trying to focus on his dreamy face. His sculpted brows, bold cheekbones, his chiseled jaw, his Adam's apple. He was easy on the eyes for sure.

God am I lucky you thought. Then your stomach fell as he pressed his lips tightly into the back of your hand, bracing you for the pain, and you felt that uncomfortable tight pinch as the needle punctured the sensitive skin in the crook of your arm and entered your vein.

You sucked in air between your teeth, gritting them together.

"Sorry, hun..." Trish says.

Miguel's eyes find yours, his lips still buried in the back of your hand, his free hand still gripping your thigh, giving you little pulses of encouragement as the blood began to collect in the vial.

As you focus on him and his face you never got tired of looking at, suddenly you felt a weird twinge of arousal staring low in your belly, combined with the pinch and discomfort of the needle in your other arm. You willed your body to release itself into the sensation, suddenly your cheeks get hot, electricity rushing to your crotch. You take a deep breath in, your breasts heaving slowly, causing the exposed round tops of your cleavage to push against your black knit top, causing the tip of the fabric to recede downward ever so slightly.

Miguel knows you well by now and notices how your demeanor shifts when you're getting turned on. He stops pressing his lips so hard on the back of your hand and begins to soften. He slowly raises his head, dragging his lips against the back of your hand, his bottom lip catches on your skin, slowly pulling it down, exposing the bottom row of his teeth.

You look at him and gently cock your head to the side, your lips parting slightly as you take another deep breath in.

Miguel's jaw tenses when he realizes your body and mind are going exactly where he thinks they are going.

"Fuck." He mouths to you. His eyes hungry as they focus on your bulging breasts trying to spring themselves free from your slutty black top. The vein in his forearm protrudes as he clenches his fist.

"All done." Trish removes the needle and begins wrapping you with a matching teal bandage. You sigh with relief and then let out a quiet wince as Miguel's hand on your thigh closes around it even tighter than before , knuckles turning white, giving you a small preview of the pent up lust he plans to unleash on you on top of this lab table as soon as Trish is gone.

Trish adds the anti-coagulant to the samples and gives them a little shake. She gives you two the run down on proper storage for the blood and wishes you luck and shuffles out the door.

As she walks away, she hears the door to the lab click shut but quickly claps a hand across her mouth to stifle a laugh and speeds even faster down the hallway as the sound of your moans and Miguel's grunts begin to emerge from the other side.

------------

You and Miguel shakily emerge from the lab an hour later. He lets you lean on him for balance as you walk with a slight limp. He smiles devilishly down at you.

"Amor, you took it so well."

You scoff and look up at him as you both continue to walk, pouting your lips indicating you want a kiss from him. He gives you a tender peck.

"Hopefully Trish didn't hear," you say.

Miguel laughs. "I mean, you were absolutely incredible taking me that way," he winks. "But I was referring to the blood draw. I'm proud of you for facing your fear. "

You smile and bob your head. "Yeah, well, yanno, you being there made it a lot easier. Turns out I might actually have a thing for needles."

Miguel inhales sharply, simultaneously pulling you into him from the back, your ass pressing into his front, and he bites the top of your ear.

"Don't, get me riled up again."

You giggle at his bite and wiggle out of his hold, interlocking your fingers once again as you two stroll to his car.

The rest of the afternoon, Miguel reluctantly buys you coffee after you gave him the puppy dog eyes on your way to the blood jeweler you guys are hiring to make the necklace and ring. The corner of his mouth raises slightly as he sees you happily sipping your overly sweet frappuccino and munching on your egg bites in the passenger seat and he shakes his head as he takes a sip of his black Americano.

He nuzzles his chin in the back of your head as you two wait at the the jeweler's, as you point excitedly to the rings you'd like one day for your engagement ring in the glass display cases.

"This one, no wait I like that one too..agh, okay maybe more so this one actually...yeah that one's my new fav..."

He takes silent mental notes of each design, pressing a kiss into your hair once more.

------

A few weeks later, your jewelry is ready for pick up. You and Miguel walk out of the jeweler's again with two sleek black boxes. He snatches your box away from you, a smug look on his face at your disappointed, cute pout as he tells you he's going to present you with it properly tonight at dinner.

You sat on a barstool with your face in your hands as you watched Miguel cook you your requested meal of the evening: Pasta Pomodoro.

He kicked you out of the kitchen this time because he knows you can't resist scoooching past him long enough to tease him with your hips before he'd have you on the kitchen island, banging you senseless, and then the sauce would be burned and ruined.

You hummed in approval as you stuck one of the red sauce coated rigatonis in your mouth, savoring the taste of the fresh warm tomato sauce, garlic and basil as the hot pasta warmed your belly.

"You outdid yourself tonight babe. My compliments to the chef." Your mouth made a "mwah" sound as you did a chef's kiss motion with your hand.

Miguel smiled warmly at you as he took a swig of his wine. "Thank you, babe. Should we give each other what you've been begging me for all afternoon?"

You smiled and rubbed your hands together quickly "It's about damn time."

"You are SO dramatic." Miguel pressed a kiss into your forehead as he knelt in front of you holding the small black velvet box containing the necklace. Suddenly you felt butterflies in your stomach as he opened the box gingerly, pulling the necklace out of it, dangling it before your eyes, the glint from the silver stopper of the glass vial gave a slight twinkle as the light from the kitchen ceiling hit against it. The glass vial was filled with the dark red liquid. The blood that once flowed through the vein in Miguel's arm contained in the small heart shaped vial.

"My love..." He said, holding your hand, the necklace still dangling in his other hand. "I wrote a few words I wanted to say when I gave you this." He pulled out a small folded piece of paper from his shirt's breast pocket.

"Amor, I have too much I want to say. But I'll try to keep this as short as I can. You have changed my life for the better. When I lost Gabi I-"

His voice cracked. His Adam's apple raised as he was surprised at the sudden emotion his body gave him in response to his words.

"I thought I would never be happy again. But then you came into my life. Those beautiful eyes looking at me over the rim of a mug in the coffee shop where we met. You lit a fire under me that I never want to put out. Your eyes are a warm spell I never wish to be cured of. Your arms are a haven in which I wish to take up permanent residence. Your body is my altar I want to forever worship. Your laugh is a melody I never want to stop listening to."

"I know we plan to pledge ourselves to each other one day as husband and wife, but for now, I'll give you this part of me, as a sign of my devotion. My blood in this pendant that once ran through my vein, kept me alive. You, mí vida, you now keep my love alive. Remember what once belonged to me, now belongs to you for good."

Your eyes glisten with tears as he presses a soft kiss into your neck and traces a finger across the back of it, moving your hair out of the way. The metal from the chain tickles your neck and the vial with Miguel's blood is slightly cold as it rests in the middle of your chest. His blood resting above your heart.

You wipe your eyes and open the velvet box containing his ring. You hold the golden signet in your fingers, the middle of it a dark red with your blood. Miguel's handsome face looks into yours and presses a kiss into your palm to calm your nerves as you pledge your love to him.

"Miguel, I'm so lucky to have you. You're more than I could ever ask for. You're funny (when you want to be), and I wanna jump your bones every time I look at you...."

Miguel's cheeks turn pink and he shakes his head, chuckling as he presses another kiss into your hand.

"...But your soul is what I've fallen hopelessly in love with. You've captured my heart and I never want it to be freed. Your mind, your intelligence, your thoughts and the very essence of who you are is something I've found in no other and I don't wish to seek it anywhere else."

I present you this ring as a sign of my undying love and loyalty to you. I can't properly repay you for all you've given to me, so I'll give you something that used to be a part of me. This blood in this ring once flowed through my heart, and now I ask you to wear it on your hand and know that you are never far from me, my love."

His eyes are glossy with tears as you slip it on his left pinky and he can't hold back as he kisses you desperately, cupping your face with his hands. He pulls back after a few moments to study you, his crimson eyes running along your features and he runs a thumb tenderly along your cheeks.

"This is the best night of my life." He whispers as he presses his forehead to yours.

"I don't know about you, but I want dessert..." You whisper back, fiddling with the top button on his shirt.

"Ohhh....mí vida, you're getting it now." He presses a canine into his bottom lip and swoops you up in his arms in one motion, not tearing his face away from yours as he takes you to his room, dirty dishes and the half-drunk wine on the table be damned.

"Everything comes off, except this...." He takes the vial of your necklace in between his fingers.

You smile and kiss his lips again before returning your attention to taking off your blouse.

"I adore you."

"Mí vida, I adore you most of all."

The rest of the night is slow, sensual, orgasmic bliss as your bodies practically devour one another. Your blood sealed in the ring on his pinky and his blood sealed away in a vial around your pretty little neck..

#Spotify #miguel o'hara #fanfic #miguel x reader #miguel atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #romance #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o hara fluff #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara imagine #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel o hara x you

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sulumuns-dootah · 6 months

Text

WHB HC's - Gehenna demons

A/N: I'm not that far into the game, so some of this might be ooc to the game, but i based this off of what I've seen + Ars Goetia (Solomon's book of demons)

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

Characters: Satan, Sitri, Belial, Leraye, Astaroth, Zagan, Paimon

༺☆༻

Satan

Definitely has Gen Z humour

His necklace is a gift from Solomon

If Satan and Beelzebub happen to be at the same pub, they eventually end up having drinking competition

When he's depressed, the only ones he'll allow near him are Sitri and Ppyong

His playlist mostly contains metal and rock (He also has a secret playlist with pop music, but if you find out, he'll kill you right on the spot)

༺☆༻

Sitri

He has only one horn, because he gave the other to Solomon

Knows his dining etiquette and glares at anyone who does something wrong, including Satan

Loves watching horror movies with MC just to hear their heartbeat, but gets nightmares afterwards

Enjoys mixing batter for baking, but absolutely hates the rest of steps

A big fan of Edgar Allan Poe

༺☆༻

Belial

Frequently forgets to take Jiyu off his horn before shower

Secretly uncomfortably stares at everyone around him (Like we all do when we have sunglasses on)

I imagine his personality being just like Belphegor from Obey Me

Has a collection of plushies on his bed and a fully decked out dollhouse where Jiyu sleeps

Loves classical music, but also has few playlists with indie and symphonic metal

༺☆༻

Leraye

Would rather prefer bow and arrow than a gun, but bows don't have as much range

As an offering from mortals, he prefers fire water (=rainwater collected during storm with chilli)

Every teddy bear body on his outfit has a name

At first I was gonna say he loves playing darts, but he strikes more as a chess guy

Very competitive

༺☆༻

Astaroth

Loves gossip and secrets

In Ars Goetia it says his breath is toxic and I kinda like that idea

Always has a smut book on hand and sometimes he can be seen reading during battles

During sex the viper stays on (or even participates)

Gives really good advices

༺☆༻

Zagan

Favorite beverage is wine

Can move silently if he wishes to

Unlike Astaroth, you can actually trust him with your secrets

Absolute cuddle-bear

Actually kinda sassy and sarcastic at times

༺☆༻

Paimon

Complete Asmodeus from Obey Me energy, definitely follows him on Devilgram

Always wins the popularity contest despite the not being held one

If you introduced them to human music, they would love Marina & the Diamonds

Good friends with Zagan due to his Wine-to-Blood ability

Loves singing and has an amazing singing voice

#what in hell is bad #prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#prettybusy #whb satan #whb sitri #whb belial #whb leraye #whb astaroth #whb zagan #whb paimon

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akutasoda · 5 months

Note

hello akuta!!

I was wondering if you could do like proposals or wedding hcs for ranpo, poe, yosano, kouyou (all separate of course), and maybe others if you want!

can i spend my eternity with you?

synopsis - how would they propose a d how is your wedding day

includes - yosano, ranpo, kouyou, poe

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight crack, marriage, wc - 842

a/n: hi hi! :)

akiko yosano ★↷

↪if there were a day that she would really indulge in, it would be her wedding day. even if she sometimes thought she'd never have one- it wasn't exactly a priority of hers.

↪but upon meeting you she practically could hear the wedding bells in the distance from day one. so with every little detail, she made sure it would be absolutely perfect.

↪she wasn't into all that fancy stuff, if the two of you loved eachother then that's all that mattered. so she would mostly likely propose at a home date. it made it more special as it was just the two of you.

↪after a long day, she'd look forward to the small date you both agreed for in the evening. and after dinner was out the way you both sat idly watching tv in each others embrace. eventually she got up claiming to go grab a drink before re entering and immediately getting down on one knee.

↪her wedding? well it was a once in a lifetime thing and especially because it was with you, she'd want to be absolutely stunning (fukuzawa was more than happy to fund it). and no matter who walked down the aisle, she swore she never had been so happy seeing you.

ranpo edogawa ★↷

↪he never really thought about marriage. he either thought it was dumb or, after meeting you, thought that the both of you would stay together regardless. he didn't understand the significance of marriage.

↪but through you or someone else telling him why they were so special, he eventually decided to propose. and again, wasn't aiming for anything fancy. afterall he was always straightforward.

↪the most likely scenario would be him simply asking you and handing you a very expensive ring. or maybe he would do a bit of research and arrange ot to be not so casual but it would be really up to what he thought you would prefer.

↪and once you were engaged, he did start thinking about the wedding. he practically couldn't wait, he now finally understood why people loved it so and especially because he would see you walk down the aisle in whatever stunning outfit you wore.

↪the wedding would also be happily funded by fukuzawa, so ranpo may of splurged a bit too much - mainly on the cake for him and whatever you wanted. but at the end of the day he finally had it sink in and he looked at you with the biggest lovestruck look one could imagine.

kouyou ozaki ★↷

↪she always dreamed of her wedding as a girl. it was something she found comfort in envisioning, making up all different styles and visions for it. but never too perfect as she couldn't imagine who with. and meeting you she finally could imagine the best one.

↪fancy yet humble. that's one way to describe it. from the proposal to the wedding day. she's a classic romantic, taking you out to a fancy restaurant (perhaps the one you both first went to) and proposing. and in that moment she swore she came so close to crying.

↪she had booked a table that was rather secluded and waited for all waiters to temporarily disappear. this way it could be a moment shared between the two of you only. and when she hughed you after your acceptance that's when the wiater finally returned and so did she, never letting your hand go.

↪the wedding would be small. she only wanted people very close to her but didn't mind who you invited. and while it was small, it was extravagant. she somehow found a way to make it seem so humble yet so fancy and made it work.

edgar allan poe ★↷

↪he never ever envisioned his marriage. sure he thought about it time to time when he maybe wrote a scene in his books to add twists but not much. and he was perfectly fine with not marrying. just being with you was enough for him.

↪you'd probably have to propose. he's only proposing if you really hint at him and even then he doesn't do so well. he has the absolute best intentions, he's just nervous. very nervous. he plans it out like a classic romantic (he is a classic romantic and i will fight for this statement) but just let his nerves get the best of him.

↪it's not that he doesn't, he does very much so, it's just he's scared of being rejected or embarrassing himself. you do probably watch him drop the ring a few times but you don't mind.

↪another small marriage. he isn't one for big crowds normally so he would absolutely not want a big crowd watch him especially when he's nervous enough. but he doesn't mind if you want to invite loads, its not just his special day afterall.

↪and no matter how long you both have been married, he will stare down at the ring and smile to himself. always wondering how he ever got so lucky.

↪karl is the ring bearer and i take no complaints.

#x reader #x gender neutral reader #bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bsd x you #bsd yosano #yosano x reader #bsd ranpo #ranpo x reader #bsd kouyou #kouyou x reader #bsd poe #poe x reader #bsd edgar allan poe

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dokk-fukuro · 11 months

Text

On Call. Pt.2

Characters: Edgar Allan Poe, Ogai Mori

Minors DNI

TW: SMUT, dirty talk, afab reader, imagine threesome w Poe and himself (whoah...)

۞₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪۞

For Edgar, this is a real test: not to succumb to your charms when you call him and say that you are only wearing his shirt. Poe has no luck in life with his fantasy - unfortunately, it works very well for him. Therefore, in the head, without unnecessary problems and tension, your image appears in the rays of sunlight.

You stand in front of a floor-to-ceiling window, sunlight filtering through a thin curtain illuminates your figure, and even the shirt that should hide your naked body does not cope with its task as it should. Of course, the fabric does not flaunt everything that you have, but even the outlined silhouette is enough for a young man to want to touch you.

“My angel, this is not fair!” Sitting in his chair, Edgar tries his best to keep control of himself and his emotions as you whisper to him how well his cock stretches you, how much you love his big hands squeeze your boobs.

Thinking soberly and sensibly is hardly possible, because the young man returns to your image over and over again in the light of the sun's rays. You are beautiful, too beautiful. Po really wants to be with you now, but he can’t do anything, ‘cause he has urgent business waiting for him. However, his hard cock demanding attention gives a pretty clear hint: Po won't leave his office until he does something about it.

“You know, I would love to lock you up in one of my novels that I would write for you. Just imagine: a house on the coast, an early, sunny morning, you in soft sheets, me pounding into you, and me using your mouth. You're so cute when you're on your knees in front of me, trying to take my cock all the way,” Edgar is pleased with himself, knowing how much it provokes you. He clenches his cock in his hand, thrusting into his fist as he hears your waning attempts to embarrass him more. The idea of being at the mercy of him alone is attractive. It sends goosebumps all over your skin as Poe continues, “Your walls are squeezing around me as I circle your clit. You want to scream with pleasure, right? Alas, my angel, will not work. You remember that in this novel you’ll be having your way with me? Your moans and screams are muffled with my cock in your mouth. But it's better if I make you mine once again in reality. What do you say?”

It takes a lot of effort to keep himself under control, but the young man almost copes, feeling his orgasm approaching. And your moans only spur.

“Come on, angel, cum for me,” Po exhales, hearing your moans and wet sounds. You reach your orgasm together. Edgar leans back wearily in his chair and smiles contentedly. “But you don’t think it’s all going to end like this, do you?”

۞₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪۞

Mori left you early in the morning. As much as he would like to, he is the boss of the Port Mafia, and therefore he has to be in his office more often than in the apartment that you share together. Surprisingly, this man has photos of your beautiful body. He sometimes rewatches them, listening to Alice's resentment that it's not safe for him. “Suddenly someone will see. You're a dumbass, Rintaro! You should not allow even the slightest chance of compromising your personal life!” the man hears, but does not answer. No matter how you look at it, Alice is right. But the temptation to see you in a negligee is too great at times.

And it's not some kind of explicit pornography, no. Photos of your body have an incredible aesthetic that Ogai keeps to every time it comes to your photos.

You call him yourself, you discuss everyday topics, without even touching on the issue of intimacy. Suddenly you casually say “Oh, honey, have you seen my panties? I think I lost them while you undressed me." You didn't actually lose them. And he understands this when, straightening his tie, he settles comfortably in his chair. Your pair of panties is in his trouser pocket. How they got there Mori does not know, but guesses.

"Sweetie, we're not teenagers anymore to do this kind of thing, are we? Leave this entertainment for young people,” the man smiles, but it’s hard for him to deny that your antics aroused excitement in him, as if he were in his early twenties again. In response to this, you retort by saying that it is entertainment for young people to keep photographs of the naked body of their beloved. And your slightly shaky voice attracts attention. "You're not wasting any time, are you? Then let me remind you that I’l punish you for it. My hands will mark your skin, digging into it with my fingers while your wrists are chained to the bed. Why do you think I let you touch yourself?”

His firm voice only turns you on more when Mori reminds you again what a naughty girl you are to decide to touch yourself while he's not around. Yes, you know the rules, but you can't help yourself. You love this man way too much in every way.

“But, if you don’t want to be punished, you need to do something for me,” Mori says insinuatingly, and you already listen eagerly, wanting to do anything for this man. “Imagine that it is my hand touching you now. Imagine the warmth of my body next to you. Be my obedient girl and cum for me when I tell you to.”

Hearing you moan and not being able to touch you is like torture. However, Ogai is a strong person who can keep his desires under control, unlike you, who loves his touch to the point of trembling fingers.

You spread your wetness over your pussy, stroke it with your fingers, rub your clit. The second hand is squeezing your boob, playing with the nipple. As you slide your fingers inside, you let out a moan of disappointment. It's not Mori's fingers that fill you up so well, but your walls tighten as the man whispers to you:

“Come on, sweetie. You’re my good girl. You take my cock so well inside you. You can't imagine how nice it is inside you, how wet and warm” in response to your pleas to let you cum, Mori clicks his tongue. “No, not yet. You promised to be a good girl, remember? That's right, and... now I have to gonow, wait for the evening and don't try to touch yourself. I’ll find out it.”

#bsd #bsd smut #bsd x reader #bsd mori #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs headcanons #mori ogai #mori x reader #mori ogai x reader #Edgar Allan Poe #poe smut #edgar allan poe x reader #poe bsd #edgar allan poe bsd #My writing

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neanmoins-que · 3 months

Note

which music artists do you like?

The Mars Volta — Noctourniquet

King Crimson — In the Court of the Crimson King

King Crimson — Islands

The Alan Parsons Project — Tales of Mystery and Imaginations Edgar Allan Poe

Cinema Strange

Sopor Aeternus & the Ensemble of Shadows (my most adored, when idk what to listen too I always chose them)

I listen stuff mostly in album order because im a snob with a vinyl player so my big 6 is here. Other honorable mentions are Shortparis and Velvet Eden

I have no genre preferences but the text is important to me

#ok getting too talkative today #back to work

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diagonal-queen · 10 months

Note

omg what if i requested...

okay okay imagine: [character] taking a bath with you and its all cute but GOD DAMN WHY DO YOU HAVE SO MANY RUBBER DUCKS? like yalls are taking a bath and you just pull out the rubber ducks and dump them in the bath djfbdjdj YES SFW I WE DONT TOLERATE NSFW HERE

characters: ranpo, dazai, chuuya, poe, atsushi, [your favorites] SEPARATE! if you dont wanna do em all you can just do poe and ranpo lol also you can insert blue lock characters if you want to 👍

i want isagi so bad frfr ALSO HONKAI STAR RAIL CAELUS WHY ISNT ANYONE TALKING ABOUT HIM LIKE HELLO??? TRASH CAN BOYFRIEND??? HES SO HOT TOO? I WANT HIM TOO FRFR

i hope youre having a good day i am indeed alive!!

- nia

A NIA REQUESTTTTTTTTTTTT OMG YES

Rubber duckie, you're the one~

♡ pairing: Ranpo Edogawa, Dazai Osamu, Chuuya Nakahara, Edgar Allan Poe, Atsushi Nakajima, Mykola Hohol, Tecchou Suehiro x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: You bring rubber ducks into the bath.

♡ cw: Swearing, nudity I guess??? It's not NSFW lmao but gotta cover my bases

note: HELLO NIA. I want you to know that I AM gonna be doing a BLLK version of this some time after I've finished this one. Also I don't know much about Honkai Star Rail but isn't Caelus basically like that game's equivalent of Aether from Genshin? I'm uncultured T-T These are just crack hcs lol uh yeah apologies for errors and I hope you enjoy x

Ranpo:

Bold of you to assume this mf didn't bring his own rubber ducks

The bathtub is overcome with your shared aquatic fowl. You two are having an absolute field day in there (and not like a regular field day, but like a Magic School Bus field day)

Maybe they have a war or something. Or maybe they establish a peace agreement and the two leaders of your different duck nations get married to form a union

You guys end up staying in the tub until the water is freezing

Honestly though, you probably benefitted from having a little while to both just indulge in childish behaviour without any judgement or consequences. And it was super fun so no regrets

After the first time you guys decide to start having shared baths every now and then when things get too stressful at work, so you could blow off steam in a harmless and fun way

But you two don't tell anybody. I mean Ranpo still brings rubber ducks to public bathhouses because he's just like that but nobody else ever finds out the true extent of your duck-related shenanigans

10/10 would recommend bubble bath rubber duck therapy w/ autistic manchild 👍

Dazai:

He didn't expect it, but he likes it!

Dazai probably never washes himself ever so he was already quite on board with the idea of having a bath with you (he gets to see you nakey and have clean hair for once? Like what a win)

Also I reckon he's the kinda guy who really enjoys bubble baths and plays with them and gets the bathroom all messy with the bubbles (me too Dazai)

So he was pretty hyped for this. But then you dump like fifty rubber ducks into the bath and NOW IT'S TIME TO GET FUNKY

Dazai has definitely never played with them before. He's amused with the way they float, with the fact that they make noise when you squeeze them, their big stupid eyes and everything about them

He initially wants to question why you have so many of them or where you got them from but then he just as quickly decides that he doesn't really wanna know the answer

Is he as invested in the ducks as you are? No, but he's very curious about them and finds it nice that you enjoy them so much

Probably wraps one in bandages and gives it to you so you're always thinking of him or smth 💀 (it's cute though)

Chuuya:

If Chuuya has run you a bath he probably intended for it to be romantic and relaxing

And then you bringed in the duckies

After a quick discussion you two do compromise on a romantic bath. With rubber ducks. And it honestly ends up being more perfect than either of you expected

He'd have been willing to just let you do your thing though because he just wants you to be happy but mans works too hard to pass up an opportunity to relax in the bath with you

So what ends up happening is you two just cuddle in the bath and talk about life and romance and stuff, and there's also ducks floating there, entirely out of place

Like Chuuya would have pulled out all the stops. Candles and wine and stuff, so like a pretty mature scene that does not accommodate for rubber ducks, and yet there they are

But he thinks it's really cute how into the ducks you are so he lets you keep them around

He would definitely buy you more rubber ducks in the future just to see you smile. Chuuya is down so bad for you 😌

Poe:

He's probably never even seen a rubber duck in his 1800s gothic anxietycore life

You might honestly have to explain what they are. He's like 'and they don't do anything? You just have them there for company?' and you're like 'yeah!' and he's just like

Poe would find one singular duck of yours and latch onto it. That one is his duck now and he would keep it nearby because it reminds him of you

Overall though he doesn't really get on board with it. Like after the first two minutes when the novelty fades he's like '...can we please remove them' lol

If you say yes then the bath then continues on exactly as expected. It's nice but Poe's a little insecure and shy (cuddle him pls)

If you say no then he's just gonna learn to deal with them. This man doesn't have the balls to set boundaries with you (ME TOO POE)

That being said, if Karl likes the ducks? ...oh boy he's straight up going to purchase an avalanche of them

It's really up to you whether or not the ducks catch on or not, Poe's just along for the ride whether or not he wants to be

Atsushi:

Help him

They didn't have rubber ducks in the orphanage, and Atsushi probably hasn't had a proper nice long bath in years. He did not want nor expect a horde of rubber ducks

But Atsushi loves you so much that he's willing to look past it. And the duckies actually grow on him by the time you guys get out the bath

He's always seen bathing as just that. A way to clean. But you're determined to introduce him to the wonders of bathtime and make up for the childhood he wasn't allowed to have

He mostly just goes along with you and doesn't really match your energy, but he absolutely loves seeing you so excited about the ducks

He would definitely like the idea of baths being a cute couply thing for you guys to do though so whether or not you got your ducks with you is honestly irrelevant

But you do. And so he accepts them as a part of being with you. In sickness and health or whatever idk nobody loves me lmao

Just make sure that you give Atsushi as much attention as you give to the ducks okay?

Mykola:

Mykola has literally never been happier in his entire life

This was the moment when he realised that you were the one for him. His soulmate, his one and only

He doesn't care how many ducks there are, he just cares that there's ducks. And that you're the one who bought them into the bathtub.

The pair of you wreak havoc on the bathroom. Like with Ranpo, y'all were just being a little playful. You and Mykola straight up destroy the whole room

You two spend hours in there coming up with names, extended backstories and lore of each rubber duck and it gets so complicated so fast

He would also give each one of them a different voice while you guys are messing around. Theatre kid moment

You've now given him the idea to just randomly present you with rubber ducks at any time, regardless of the scenario. Your collection grows tenfold due to this bastard and Fyodor is not pleased about it. Not when Mykola is interrupting DOA meetings with fucking ducks

The poor repair guys you hire to fix the bathroom...they're so confused T-T

Tecchou:

Straight up just does not react. This shit is a regular Tuesday for him

LET'S NOT PRETEND THAT HE DOESN'T OWN RUBBER DUCKS BECAUSE HE LITERALLY DOES I SAID SO

And he just lets them float there in the bath and pays no mind to them. Doesn't play with them, talk to them or whatever. It's just nice to have some silent, non-judgemental company sometimes

Tecchou doesn't strike me as someone who would suggest that you two take a bath together, so it was most likely your idea. He went along with it because relaxing in a steamy room with you sounded nice, but in reality you just wanted to show him the ducks

And though he might have seemed disinterested he was so happy to know that you and him had a similar interest

You two are so good for each other that way <3 (good = autistic I guess, because Tecchou is canon autism I decided)

So while you play with the ducks or whatever he just sits there content and watches you do so with a little smile. Probably calls you cute at some point entirely catching you offguard

You two make it a regular thing, but Jouno probably finds out somehow and it's just a whole other can of worms I won't go into rn

Taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fedyushka, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl

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queers-gambit · 5 months

Text

Tell Me Every Terrible Thing

[ part one of two ]

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!Hightower!reader only description given: red hair

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.6k+

note: what the fuck is this, Cherry? also two parts 'cause author gets carried away!

warnings: show spoilers, cursing, author has small bouts of feministic ideas, author also really likes the "little birds" storyline (let her live!), wonky brain is wonky, i think hurt and comfort, angst, very mild NSFW (brief female receiving oral), technically alternative timeline 'cause this goofy-ass author has an overactive imagination, #icanmakehimworse, another reader-episode-insert (this warning is for the fucking losers in my inbox).

part two: "Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, And Let Me Love You Anyway," - Edgar Allan Poe

"How angry do you think he'll be with me?"

You offered your best friend, The Realm's Delight, Crowned Heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra, a unamused, stale look. Sarcastically, you replied, "Oh, come now, Nyrie, why would your father be angry? It couldn't be because you rejected every suitor His Grace put before you, or even how you abruptly ended the tour with two months remaining. What father would be angry after that?"

She groaned, "I know, I know, you don't have to be so right all the bloody time. I just... I couldn't do it anymore, you saw what it was like," her head bowed and you knew the girl was truly overwhelmed by her 'job' picking a suitor.

"This was no easy feat to arrange, Princess," you spoke diplomatically, aware of the ship's crew dotting around the royal ship. "Our fathers went through much difficulty to ensure this tour's success, Princess, and I'd imagine neither will be thrilled by our early arrival."

"But it's just - "

"I know," you soothed with a knowing, sympathetic smile. Your arm extended around her, her head dropping to your shoulder for comfort. "In an ideal world, women would have a real say in their futures. Perhaps, that is what you're meant to do, Nyrie... Perhaps you're meant to break this wheel, give the other half of humanity a fighting chance against the men who have long suppressed us. Being heir is a monumental stereotype to shatter, but most women are not born into royalty and have nobody protecting or defending them."

She picked her head up to stare at you for a single moment, then nodded slowly, "That's a lot of pressure."

"Less if you pick a respectable man to help you lead," you advised softly, reaching to caress her cheek briefly. "You're to be Queen, Nyra, which means you need a King Consort that the common folk will respect, who will play his part in the courts to come. I know it's not ideal, my friend, but it's not meant to be - it's meant to be strategic." You paused, adding, "Similar to Ali marrying your father, yes? That was a strategic move on my father's end. Now it's up to you to chose your own match, to plot your own strategy."

"Who would you see me marry?"

"In truth? I'm unsure if anyone would fit the bill perfectly, so, I don't know who I could see you with. Definitely someone smart, though."

She only hummed, sighing deeply and making you frown. Before another word could be said, there came a distant screech that sounded all too familiar - though you refused to let it show that you knew this particular dragon's sound.

Nyra moved away from the ship's railing to stare longingly up into the sky, and about a minute later, without visible sight of any threat, Ser Criston Cole was shouting, "Take cover!"

And then, like a bird swooping to snatch a fish, a crimson dragon descended from the cover of clouds - seemingly materializing from nowhere. The large, long, slithery beast with wings knocked into the ship's main mast; jolting everyone on board enough to topple over.

You tried to stabilize the Princess, but you lost balance and dropped to your knees as Cole rushed to help Rhaenyra to her feet. When able, you looked to the sky; grinning to yourself as you recognized the retreating Blood Wyrm. Seeing the distinct form of Caraxes made you giddy with anticipation, however, that was short lived as you clocked Rhaenyra's gaze of awe and wonder.

It seems she was excited for her uncle's return, too. Though, it won't be till later that you learn the extent of her adoration.

Less than an hour later, the ship was docking and you escorted Princess Rhaenyra from aboard; her guards surrounding you both as you trekked to the Red Keep. "Just... Perhaps try to stay invisible," you advised your friend, arm-in-arm. "The King won't be pleased if you interrupt court, even just by being there. With luck, we won't be noticed."

She agreed softly, continuing on. She started fiddling with her necklace, the piece of Valyrian Steel jewelry that her uncle, Daemon, had gifted her years ago before Queen Aemma passed away. Your lover had told you the Princess was owed a piece of her Valyrian history, and since he could not gift a sword to a young lady, the necklace was chosen, crafted, and gifted.

When you returned to the Red Keep, it was just in time for court to be called to session and your friend was all too eager to join. "Nyra," you warned, hand in hers.

"It's all right," she assured, "come, it must be Daemon - "

"No, I should return to my chamber. Don't piss your father off too much," you warned her with a smirk, watching her grin in response, squeeze your hand, and then file into the Throne Room with the other members of court.

You retreated to your old room, sighing in relief when you discovered nothing was disturbed. "My Lady!" A voice gasped at the open door. You glanced over, smiling at Milah, your usual handmaiden, and opening your arms when she rushed forward. "You're not supposed to be back yet! Oh!" She tutted, looking you over. "I'll get your bed made and - "

"No, it's fine - "

"Nonsense, let me do this," she insisted, already busying around the room. "I was wondering why they were bringing things into the foyer - must be all the Princess' luggage, hmm?"

"Yeah," you sighed, helping her strip the bed and change the sheets. "It was strange," you admitted, "the men, I mean, and the way they all competed for her hand in marriage."

"Did you expect anything else?"

"I did not think they'd honestly kill one another. Though it was more so their pride than the Princess they fought over."

Milah smirked, "Sounds about right. Well, what of you? Anyone catch your eye?"

"Of course not," you sighed a little sadly.

"Still hung on the Prince, aren't you, my Lady?"

"Perhaps," you mused.

You spent the better part of an hour gossiping with Milah before she had to go grab a few things, but promised she'd send your belongings up as soon as possible. You thanked her, walked her out, assuring you were just going to get a bath or something, and just as you shut and locked your chamber door, gasped when a pair of hands seized your waist.

"Daemon!" You hissed when you saw the short, white locks of your surprise guest. "The bloody fuck is wrong with you?" You demanded, turning in his grip to shove your hands into his chest. "What're you doing here? Want to get us caught?"

"Three years," he grit, gathering you in his arms to heave upward and force your legs around his waist if you wanted to keep balance, "three fucking years I've been gone - away - missing you, do not deprive me a moment more."

"Someone will come looking," you whispered, caressing his face as your forehead met his. "And perhaps I want a moment to just look at you, 's been years," you breathed. "You cut your hair," you commented, running your hands through the short strands.

"I cut my hair," he agreed softly, just holding you close and tight.

"I like it... But I'll miss braiding it."

"I will, too," he admitted. He nuzzled closer, inhaling your neck sharply, boldly licking a flat tongue up your pulse point to make you shudder lightly.

"Daemon," you whispered, pulling his head back so you could look in his eyes, beaming, "I missed you, too."

"Viserys is arranging a lunch for my return," he informed, turning so he could approach your newly-made four-poster bed; dropping you flat on your back with a grin. "Which roughly translates into only allotting a few minutes to make up for lost time."

"We will have time later - "

"I overheard Viserys saying he and Otto intend to take evening tea with you regarding the Princess' return from tour," he eased, reaching to spread your legs, bunching your skirts. "But I will call upon you tomorrow? Yes? Officially?"

"If you insist," you teased, letting him finally descend to smash his lips against yours. In truth, you were used to his empty promises of 'calling on you officially' because of his marriage to Lady Royce, but it was his way of telling you without words that he wished it was you instead of Rhea.

Daemon groaned, melting into your form; breathing heavily. "I've missed you past words," he whispered, nuzzling your nose with his. "But for now, I just need a taste - "

"We don't have time - "

"We'll be fast. Tell me, love," he nipped your pouting lips, soothing his tongue over the puckered skin, "have you taken another in my absence?"

"Of course not," you hissed in offense.

"Good," he nodded, kissing you sweetly.

"Need I ask?"

"There were no concubines," he mused, "though, they were offered, I did not accept. So, we'll be quick - faster than quick," he promised, pawing at your undergarments and exposing your dampening cunt to his sight. "I'll take my time with you later, but for now, I need this," he all but seethed before diving tongue-first into your core.

His spit mixed with your arousal, creating a slippery mess.

"Shit," you hissed, grabbing his shorter hair as his tongue flattened to lap at your entrance, dripping in your essence. One of his hands held your thighs apart for his access, the other releasing his cock from the pair of breeches he wore. Daemon groaned at the taste of you, lapping wildly like a man starved, and stroking his bare cock in rhythm with his ministrations.

It truly took no time at all once he found your clit and sucked mercilessly, the hand holding your thighs now extended up to paw roughly at your tits. Alternating his tongue around your sloppy cunt added to your heightening pleasure, swirling his tongue as he bobbed and shook his head - making an absolute mess, and causing your climax to shatter your mind and soul.

Your legs twitched, spine curled, stomach contracted as your arms quivered from the rush of adrenaline; hand slapped over your mouth to keep your moans to a minimum. You grabbed his hair so tightly, he groaned in mock pain; legs then contracting to a suffocating grip around his ears and head while Daemon met his own end, spending in his hand whilst milking you for all you had.

He panted with satisfaction when he pulled back, grinning at you in mischief when you released your hold on him. "Good fuckin' girl," he praised, standing to his feet only to slither over top of you. "Like not a day's gone by, huh?" He whispered, kissing you messily, smearing your cum on your tongue; grinding his bare cock into your recovering core to make you shudder. "Take a moment, then get ready," he whispered. "I expect to see you at the celebrations... Wear that dress I got you for your fifth-and-twentieth nameday," he smirked, adding, "if you'd so please, my darling."

You chuckled, "You magically learned manners during the war?"

"Perhaps," he mused, pecking your lips again.

"Hey, Daemon?"

"What is it, my sweet one?" He asked, seeing the sincerity in your eyes and hearing the seriousness in your voice - something in his heart jumping.

"Would you tell me about it all later? The war, I mean? Would you tell me what you've endured?"

"I do not think it's a tale befitting a lady's ears."

"Please? I wish to know..."

"Then I will tell you," he promised, "but only if you wear that dress."

Your eyes rolled in humor as Daemon stood. You watched him wipe his cum on a spare rag, tossing it away, and after one last kiss, was leaving out of the secret passageway's door. Taking another moment, you finally stood on weak legs and unlocked the main door, preparing how you could for your day before Milah returned.

After arriving at the luncheon, you made a beeline for your father, greeting him happily before explaining your surprise reappearance. He filled you in on that day's court, explaining that Prince Daemon was back; and you felt almost guilty for the way your skin was still set ablaze from your lover's earlier visit.

For all Otto's faults, he was still your father, and you felt guilty for sneaking around with Daemon behind his back. Your father ushered you off to mingle, insisting he was only there for the King; and no, he wasn't hungry. So, you parted ways with a chaste peck to your forehead; the feeling of his scratchy beard lingering on your guilt-riddled flesh.

"Sister, what a surprise!" Alicent happily distracted by greeting you with a bright grin. You adjusted course to approach the Queen, King, and newly-returned Prince. "Oh, what a lovely dress you've chosen," she complimented with ease, reaching for your hand. "You always do have the best eye for clothes, I feel as if need you to live in my wardrobe, tell me what to wear everyday."

"Thank you, Your Grace, I'd be honored," You smiled at her, holding her hand, looking to the others. "My King," you curtsied to Viserys, glancing at Daemon and bowing your head respectfully, "my Prince, how nice to see you, again. Welcome home."

"Thank you, my Lady," he smirked. "Might I welcome you home as well? I hear you've been gone from the Capital."

You hummed with a nod, "I was on tour with the Princess, my Prince. I've only arrived home today, as well - though not by dragonback."

He eyed you up and down, offering, "I must agree with the Queen, my Lady, that is a lovely dress you've chosen."

You pet the black material, smiling genuinely, "Thank you, my Prince. It's one of my favorites."

"I can see why, given how beautiful you look," he flirted, and from behind you and Alicent, you could hear your father scoff.

"Thank you," you whispered. "What conversation did I rudely interrupt before?"

"Oh, nothing of importance," Daemon told you, looking to his brother and your sister.

"Because we spoke of how Daemon, here, was always Mother's favorite," Viserys grinned. "Do you want to know, my Lady? About how much Mother adored Daemon?" He asked you, his little brother trying to drone over him - but Viserys was determined to tell you the examples he could think of regarding his brother's favoritism.

You giggled from both Viserys' stories and Daemon's evident embarrassment.

However, almost awkwardly, on Alicent's other side, Princess Rhaenyra approached the group and stood amongst you. You knew the King must be unhappy with his daughter, but did not voice any opinion since you were not the source of disappointment at the moment. Instead, you listened to the King's complimenting words to his brother; thinking it was interesting that Daemon was so egotistical and yet, flushed under his brother's praise. Princess Rhaenyra waited until a natural lull to tell Daemon, "Congratulations on your victory."

It was awkward as Viserys just glared at her, Rhaenyra's expression falling short. Daemon covered smoothly, "Thank you, Princess."

Trying to save the tension, your sweet sister offered, "Perhaps Prince Daemon would care for a tour of the gallery? He hasn't yet seen the new tapestries gifted to you by Norvos and Qohor."

Viserys nodded and whispered, "Oh, oh," mockingly. He asked his brother, "Would you like to see the tapestries?" But by the end, he broke character and laughed with his brother; the latter who whom you knew spat on trivial things - such as tapestries and such. Through their laughter, Viserys proclaimed to his wife, "He has no interest in such things!"

"But thank you for the offer, sister," you smiled at her, trying to reassure her when her husband laughed in her face. "The tapestries are very beautiful, you've chosen a grand place to display them. I saw them on my way here."

"I'd like to see them," Rhaenyra jumped in, seemingly to Alicent's aid - something she'd not done in an age considering the tension between them. You just smiled politely, seeing the way Viserys dropped his grin when he looked at his daughter with distain while the rest of you looked away sheepishly.

"Then you should not deprive yourself."

Rhaenyra offered a pained, pursed smile, "I shall enjoy them alone."

You, Alicent, and Daemon all stared after Rhaenyra with varying degrees of pity as she walked away to sit solemnly by herself on a distant bench while Viserys went on about his and Daemon's youth; over Daemon being their mother's favorite. However, Alicent excused herself to follow the saddened Rhaenyra, perhaps to offer the Princess comfort in her father's anger. The King looked ready to protest, but instead just shook his head in disappointment.

Viserys turned you and Daemon away from the sight of the girls, showing off the Godswood in bloom; your father approaching you three stiffly. "Your Grace," he bowed to Viserys, then nodded in resepct, "my Prince. Daughter," he smiled, trying to instigate, "how was tour with Princess Rhaenyra?"

"Oh, as eventful as a Royal Tour can be," you smiled, deflecting, "though I must admit, while seemingly exciting at some parts, I'm sure it pales terribly in comparison to the Prince's adventures in the Stepstones." Viserys smirking broadly at your redirection. "I do wonder, what brought the war to an end? We've heard rumor, but surely the Prince might know for sure what brought the Triarchy down?"

"Surely," The King nodded, looking to Daemon expectedly.

The Rogue Prince smirked and readjusted his stance, deflecting, "Perhaps a conversation for later."

"Oh, come now, brother!"

"Your Grace," Otto interrupted, "I do apologize, but there are matters at hand that require your attention. The Tully's still - "

He sighed and waved your father off, "Yes, yes... Well," Viserys nodded, "I'll call upon you both later."

"Your Grace," you instantly curtsied.

"Your Grace," Daemon bowed right after. Viserys smiled and nodded back at you both, patted his brother's shoulder, turned, and when he walked away, Otto followed with a single look to you and Daemon.

"Daughter," he bid curtly - and you read between the lines. He really wanted to say, "Do not linger around the Prince."

When the King moved, his usual procession of advisors, guards, and entourage followed right after. You sighed as almost all of the Godswood cleared out, Daemon eyeing you as he readjusted his stance; subtly reaching out to pet your hand with his fingers.

"Daemon," you warned quietly.

"Nobody is watching us," he smirked. "You look beautiful, love. I'll have to buy you more dresses, you wear them so well."

"I cannot believe I will not see you tonight," you whispered with a pout.

"I will call on you tomorrow," he reminded.

You opened your mouth, but another voice answered. "Sister," Alicent called, you looking over and smiling innocently. You caught sight of Princess Rhaenyra glaring at her uncle, but didn't think much of it.

"I look forward to your tales from the Stepstones," you told him calmly, offering a curtesy.

He took your hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back, "I look forward to any time spect together, my Lady."

You hummed in contentment before stepping away, instantly taking Alicent's arm when close enough. "What was that about? Daemon looks so smitten!" She whispered with a growing grin.

"He was being polite," you whispered back, "and simply being Daemon - you know how he is. He's got three years of mischief to make up for."

"I see," she giggled. "He's quite handsome with the short hair, isn't he? It suits him well."

"I have to agree," you gossiped. "I can see why the ladies of court have missed him so."

Your younger sister giggled, smiling at you, offering, "I've missed you greatly. Come... I wish to hear of your time away."

"Oh, sister, please, I've only just returned."

"But... Wouldn't you tell me before the King?" She whispered.

You paused, then nodded, "Got me there, sister-dearest."

"We'll take tea together," she decided, leading you around the Keep until she saw a familiar face she knew. "Talya, my sister and I wish to take tea in the gardens, please. Privately, of course, so do not announce it," she directed the handmaiden. "We'll be in the gazebo in the rose gardens, bring tea, sandwiches, and my sister's always loved those peach crumbles?"

"I know the dessert," she nodded, smiling at you. "Can I interest you, Your Grace, in anything specific?"

"No, but bring enough for us both. Come, sister."

You three parted ways, Alicent leading you to the gardens as promised. She dismissed anyone in the area, even telling her guards to wait at the front hedges to give you ideal privacy while deeper in the roses at the gazebo. While sitting, you exchanged gossip about what happened while you were away, Alicent happy to catch you up because she was happy to finally have a friend, even if it were a sister, back in her corner.

You were happy, too.

While you loved Rhaenyra, the tension between her and Ali made you feel in the middle despite both parties assuring you "you weren't". Nyra was a good friend, your best, even! But it was something about your sister that was calming and assuring. She was trustworthy to a fault, but she was still your strongest pillar.

As Talya dressed your table with tea, lemon water, sandwiches, fruits, and other foods (including the peach crumbles), you giggled at Ali's retelling of whatever failed proposals occurred this past season you were away. When alone, at last, Ali turned to you in her padded chair and asked, "Tell me in truth, how was the tour? Why did you return early?"

"In truth, sister, vying men made the Princess uncomfortable. She did not need the two months more, she knew she was unhappy with the men so far presented to her."

Alicent sighed, "So, who does she intend to marry?"

"Yes," a new voice agreed, you both jumping in shock and looking up to see Viserys approaching with your father behind him. "Who does my daughter intend to wed, Lady Hightower?"

"Your Grace," you uttered, both you and Alicent standing in respect to bow your heads.

"Please, please," he permitted you both to sit, taking the lone chair across the table as your father remained standing. "I only wish for the unfiltered truth. I know what is said, I know what is reported, I know..." He sighed, "I know what my daughter might say, but please, Lady Hightower, what is the truth of it?"

"The truth, Your Grace, is that Rhaenyra was overwhelmed. Perhaps it was too long for her that she eventually, I'm not sure, shut down? She did not care towards the end which men was presented, she was overwhelmed with the options and pace at which everything moved."

"Kings and Princes before her have done the same, many Queens and Princesses embarking on their tours to find proper suitors," Otto reminded. "Why was this different, my Lady?"

"Because she is the first," you reminded. "Never before has a woman been named heir - she holds a different responsibility. Perhaps having everything thrown at her was too much, she has to filter through lesser men that would be King Consort. Nobody stood out, she became discouraged, and honestly, Your Grace?" You spoke earnestly, "I think it just made her sad. She did not want to disappoint you by choosing a man not worthy of being her King, so, she would rather face your anger in coming home early."

Alicent frowned but nodded to herself.

Otto adverted his eyes.

Viserys looked dejected, but sighed, "I see... Thank you for your words, my Lady, truly, you've always been a trustworthy advisor to the Queen, Princess, and I."

"It's the least I can do, Your Grace, since you and Queen Aemma - you - you were so kind to me when Mother passed. And Rhaenyra - to both Alicent and I - she was a true friend. I am in debt to you, Your Grace, and whatever I can do, be it just a simple different perspective, I am happy to provide."

"Well," he considered, "in the spirit of your unfiltered perspective, who would you see Rhaenyra marry?"

You blinked in shock, "Oh, Your Grace, I-I am not qualified to say."

"You serve as my Master of Whispers, do you not?" He smirked. "Speak, please."

You sighed deeply. With a small gulp, you blinked twice, then admitted, "I do not think my opinion matters, but... It would make sense to marry her to Ser Laenor Velaryon, would it not? He's a warrior who survived the Stepstones, is of Valyrian stock and blood, rides the dragon, Seasmoke. He's kind, brave, true, unmarried, heir to Driftmark. I think when it comes to filling the position of King Consort, Ser Laenor Velaryon would make a fine candidate."

Apparently, this was all Viserys needed to hear.

You could not sleep that night. You could not explain why, but something foul was in the air and prevented you from drifting off. So, you chose to browse your private library, select a literary favorite, and stroll the deadened halls of the Red Keep; reading by flickering torch light.

Good thing you were up and out, because one of your Little Birds chirped at you from the shadows. You looked around to see nobody in the hall, but another chirp directed your attention to a darkened alcove. "Hmm, oh, Kaela," you hummed, approaching her slowly and bending at the waist. "What is it, child?"

"I came as fast as I could."

"What's wrong?"

"I've seen something - something you'll want to know," she glanced up and down the hall, "but not anyone else."

"Come," you whispered, pushing her further back into the dark and sheltering yourselves safely. Once knelt before her, you asked the child, "All right. What is it you have seen, little one?"

"Do not get angry, my Lady..."

"I promise I won't," you spoke softly, confused - you never got angry at your Little Birds... Why start now?

"I-I saw... I saw the Prince Daemon and... Princess Rhaenyra."

You nodded slowly, asking quietly, "Where?"

"In the city, in a pleasure house."

You blinked, "And what were they doing?"

"What grown-ups do."

"I see. They were coupling?"

She shrugged, "No, just kissing, but it stopped fast. He left her there."

"He left her there? In the pleasure house?"

The little girl nodded. "The Prince looked sad... When the Princess tried to kiss him again, he pulled away... Then he left."

"Where did he go? After?"

She blinked, frowning, "My brother, Grenn, said he saw him at the pubs - but he was always on the move, very drunk. I came here right away."

"Good girl," you smiled, offering her whatever Gold Dragons from the pouch you usually kept on your person under your robe for times like this. "Where will you be tomorrow evening? I will bring you and Grenn supper."

She smiled, "We can meet you at the dock!"

"The dock?"

"He likes watching the boats."

"The docks, then. By the Fisherman's Pier?"

"No, Grenn like the Harper's Pier. They're not there around supper, they're still out at sea."

"Harper's Pier for supper," you agreed. "Go on."

The little girl looked around before scampering off down a different passageway and you stood from your knelt position with a stony look of tentative contemplation on your face. With a deep breath, you did the only thing you thought you could... You went to your father.

With a rapid knock at his chamber door, it took a moment or two before he was opening it - still dressed. "What is it, daughter?" He asked gruffly. "It's late, this should wait till morning."

"The castle is about to wake - "

"I know and I've much to attend to - "

"Father," you hissed, glancing up the hall.

He sighed and let you in, "What is it?"

"I carry scandalous news," you muttered, his door's lock echoing around you. "About the Princess Rhaenyra."

He turned to you sharply, you taking a step back in surprise. "You... Know?"

"About her sneaking around in a pleasure house?"

Otto frowned, "Do you know with who?"

You could not tell him, so you answered, "No, just that she was seen in disguise."

"Who told you this?"

"One of my Birdies."

"All right," he decided, nodding to himself, "thank you, daughter, for reporting this. I will... I will figure out what to say to the King."

"Should you say anything?"

"I'll figure it out - but now we both know."

You nodded, "So you knew before I came?"

"I was awoken an hour ago to hear this news."

You nodded slowly, "Then I will leave you to it."

"Thank you," he whispered, letting you peck his cheek in parting before slipping out of his chambers. With nothing left to do or anything else to say, you went back to your chambers as to limit your exposure to the castle's tenants.

The less that could say they saw you this night, the better.

Once safe in your chambers with a locked main door, you could do nothing else but (over)think, wishing to all the Seven Gods you didn't know what you knew. Information and knowledge was vital to maintain power, this is true, but it also made you dangerous - also a target. The more you knew, the bigger the target.

It was only a few hours after dawn when the secret passage doors to your chamber opened. You were braiding your hair, ignoring the man you knew to have the only balls to use that door - especially now.

"I've always wondered, if we had children, would they have white hair or waves of fire, like you? Perhaps something between?"

"Fuck off, Daemon."

"So, you've heard," he sighed deeply. "Won't you even look at me?"

"I can't stand the very thought of you right now, nor the actual sound, I'll lose my stomach if I have to look at you."

"Let me tell you the truth," he begged, "before I have to leave the Keep, let me tell you the truth. Let Viserys and everyone have their ideas and opinions, their lies and slander, but let me tell you!"

"Excuse me?" You asked, whirling around in your seat to glare at him fully. "Viserys banished you, again?"

"He did... Back to the Vale."

You scoffed, "Good... Your Lady wife awaits you."

"Viserys thinks I've sullied Rhaenyra's virtue. I do not need you thinking the same, so, please, let me tell you what happened - no matter how uncomfortable, please, let me tell you the truth."

"What difference does it make?"

"I can't have you thinking something more occurred. Was I tempted? Yes, but I refrained. Did I touch her? A little - but not how you think."

You sighed, shaking your head, "I don't care, you're returning to your wife in the Vale, and I will be rid of you. No matter for how long this time, you will be gone - "

"For a time, yes, but I intend to return for you."

"No, I think I'll let Father make me a match. I despised the North, it was too cold, so the handsome Cregan Stark is out. I don't mind Dorne, perhaps a Martel to marry? Or even a Tully of Riverrun?"

"Do not speak such atrocities to me."

"You're one to talk! Your niece, Daemon? The girl I consider my closest friend? You couldn't just find that whore you like and be satisfied with her? Couldn't wait a single day, could you? Huh? How fucking pathetic!"

"Perhaps you are not as close with Rhaenyra as you thought," he tisked, making you feel disarmed. He spent the next hour and a half explaining to you what happened the previous night, and despite your disgust, you just listened.

Knowledge was power.

"I will return," he sighed at the end, "and in that time, you can make your own decisions if you want me or not. But I will return and I will have you, if you will have me, and this foolishness will be behind us."

"I'll give you a single year. I will not wait for you longer than that," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "I can't stand that you've done this, but I will wait one single year for you to find a way out of your marriage and back to me. Any longer than that, and I will simply move on. I do not want to live my whole life in the Red Keep, and the truth of it is, I cannot live in the Princess' shadow any longer. One year, Daemon."

"One year," he nodded, stepping closer. "My love, please - "

"Do not assume to touch me. Not after you've touched her," you snapped, stepping away. "Get out, I need to be alone, you have been banished - you need to go, you cannot be seen here." Your eyes rolled, muttering, "Probably have to go collect your whore for this banishment, too."

"Not this time," he smirked, "this time, I leave with my promise that I will return for you, my sweet Lady Hightower."

"Fuck off, you perverted Prince Daemon," you sassed, watching him slip out the door; shutting you in an echoing silence. Your heart ripped itself apart, making you wonder what the fuck you had done to deserve getting caught in such a scandalous affair. But you knew, in your heart, you'd do anything for Daemon - the thought sickening your stomach as you pondered how far this would all go.

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