#oh god it’s been so LONG since I properly wrote!

[veala2]

“ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴋʏ”☆

SYNOPSIS- It was only one night of night watch for you, and that’s all. But a certain swordsman opted against leaving you to yourself, and what was to be a simple night became the start of something more between you and your first mate.

CW - SFW, total fluff and a gn!reader! but, Zoro’s a little OOC in this, so watch out for that.

A/N - it’s been a while since I wrote! I hope everyone enjoys this, because this certainly won’t be the last. (＾▽＾)

You always thought the star’s beauty looked familiar, though you couldn’t quite figure out where.

Doing nightwatch on the Sunny was one of the less daunting tasks to do, and less of the more tiring. Despite having to stay awake all night. It was easier than keeping up with Luffy, Chopper and Usopp’s silly antics. And less freighting than fighting off the marines or turbulent seas. It was simply just staying awake and watching the sky twinkle above.

That’s why, when you saw your first mate come out with dark circles under his eyes and an apparent scowl on his face, you decided to take the reins to let him sleep for some time.

He was very much against the idea. Zoro knew what his position as first mate meant, so the thought of someone else being the sole protector for a night was not appealing. But, once Luffy took note of his friend’s condition, he immediately shooed him to get some rest.

Truth was, you really wanted to give something to Zoro. Your first was always training, fighting and doing everything in his power for his crew and dream. It was respectable, so you wanted to let him rest and take it easy. Even just a for night.

Of course, this didn’t escape the teasing remarks of both Nami and Usopp. As the day went on and night emerged, they went on and on about your ‘puppy crush’ on Zoro.

You simply ignored them, though. Or tried to, at the least. A part of you had a gut feeling… ah, never-mind.

And now here you are. Sprawled on the grass of the sunny’s deck, hands to cradle the back of your head as you lovingly gazed into the night sky. An old friend of humankind.

“You ‘wake?”

A voice came to redirect your attention. A familiar one, at that. Zoro stumbled onto the deck from the door of the boy’s quarters, plopping himself down right beside you with a full barrel of sake on hand. Taking a generous swig while he was at it.

“Wouldn’t really be doing my job if I wasn’t.” You retorted, giving him a playful smirk. He passes the booze over to your hand, but you went against it.

“You shouldn’t be out here doing this… I can take it.” He grumbles. You give a light laugh to defuse the mood.

“I don’t mind. You need the rest. Speaking of which, you should go back to bed.”

The swordsman wanted to report your words, but instead of words a long yawn was drawn from his mouth. A breeze passed through the air, and a chill crawled down your spine. Bringing your hands to rub up and down your arms in a quick motion. You chuckled, looking back up.

“I wasn’t prepared for how cold the night was. Still gotta get the hang of this whole night watch thing.”

A small sneeze escaped from you, sniffling and trying to keep the snot in. You thought how pathetic you must have seemed in front of Zoro. The Roronoa Zoro, who has fought some of the toughest foes, letting his crewmate do the job he could be doing.

But… that’s not what he was thinking.

He was actually thinking about how great sleeping would be right now. And also your health and comfort.

“Tch, well that was a dumb move. Here…”

Before you could retort, he pulled the coat from off his back and placed it over yours. Despite the warmth the cloth was giving, your cheeks felt even more warmer. Along with that fuzzy feeling in your chest. Rising as time went on.

“Ah… thanks, Zoro.” You mumbled, turning away to hide the embarrassment on your face.

Something soft landed on your lap before you even knew it. Looking down, a wave of panic and abashment came over.

It was sweet, to be honest. The fact that Zoro was so tired and yet had enough energy to keep you company and warm through the night. So, a part of you had a teeny, tiny thought that he would give in and hit the hay beside you. Having you drag his ass back to bed. Well, it turns out he did decide to stick with you.

On your lap.

“Wake me up if anything happens…” He said, before passing out and finally sleeping.

Those conflicting angel- devils that sat on your shoulder kept telling you to push him off and bring him to an actual bed. And the other pleaded to let him say. The look on the sleeping swordsman’s face made you melt. His eyelashes were long and thick, lips slightly parted as he gently snored. Zoro looked so calm… something so rarely seen.

Your fingers gently raked through his moss hair, remarking on how unexpectedly soft it was. That’s when it hit you, almost straight in the face.

His face of peace shined like the stars did. It was rare, but just as mesmerizing.

With a small chuckle, you bring your head down to plant a gentle kiss onto his forehead. The sleeping swordsman twitched in his sleep, but showed a small smirk on his face. Making you jokingly scoff.

Well, maybe Nami and Usopp were right…

“What am I gonna do with you…”

#one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x you #one piece #roronoa zoro #oh god it’s been so LONG since I properly wrote! #op x reader

[kombat-time]

old gods

[a little solara fic, POV second person, sweet but a bit sad]

Since Solara's rather... abrupt arrival back into Earthrealm, she has been quite hard to keep in one place.

Though there are places she frequents more than others-- the academy's courtyard, the village a few miles away, etc.-- it's really a wonder where she will be found next. So, naturally, you consider yourself quite surprised when you manage to accidentally find her at the edge of one of the nearby cliffs.

Well, perhaps edge isn't quite the right word, as what sits upon the edge of it is a large-- almost fantastically so-- weeping cherry blossom tree. One that Solara is sitting up against, humming a simple tune as she molds light into shapes.

She doesn't seem to see you, at first, but when she does, she offers a soft smile. The sun is low in the distance, not quite setting but certainly on its way, and it forces you to squint your eyes slightly.

With a soft laugh, Solara takes one of her hands and gently seems to move the light out of your eyes. A casual godly act, as is befitting of her.

"Come sit with me," She calls out, "Please."

You do. You lean your back against the large tree, staring up at the sky through the pink flowers. For several moments, there is no sound besides Solara's quiet humming and the gentle breeze keeping you cool.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Solara says, "There used to be a lot more of us, you know."

You look at her, confused.

"Gods," She clarifies with a slight laugh, "Earthrealm gods, in particular. For a realm not known for its magic, we truly had an impressive amount."

You blink. The only gods you know of-- prior to Solara's return-- are Raiden, Fujin, and the other elemental gods. She must see the question-- What happened?-- in your eyes as she glances at you, because she sighs, her hands slowing around her half-finished project.

"Shinnok happened," She looks to the distance, back the way you had come from, but you get the feeling that she's not actually looking at that. "When a god's realm is threatened, regardless of whether or not they are that realm's protector, they are pushed to act. To fight..."

She looks the the branches above the two of you. "Even those who are not fit to do so."

She begins to weave again, this time, a more specific object taking shape: a lotus flower.

"Fujin and I had made friends with one god in particular-- the God of Flowers-- who was not... well-equipped for war. He had fallen rather early on," She looks down to the lotus in her hands, yellow fading into orange as the sun begins to set. "Gods cannot die, but they can choose to not re-form. Or... to form as something else. Like a cherry tree."

You blink, looking up at the tree you're leaning against. You can feel a quiet thrum of energy as you do, and Solara smiles, though it doesn't seem to quite reach her eyes.

"This was a favorite spot of ours. I'm not shocked he chose to settle here... Though he could have easily picked a smaller form."

Another thrum of energy, a bit harsher, and Solara laughs.

She then closes her eyes, and says, quietly, "At least some things have yet to change."

The two-- three-- of you sit there in silence, two old gods and an observer. Then, as the sun finally dips out of view, Solara opens her eyes again and begins to stand. She helps you do the same.

"We had better get back before the storm brothers begin looking for me," She looks to you, her expression soft. "Thank you for sitting with us."

#twilly's writing #oc: solara #ohhh my god. oh my god i wrote something #y'all have no idea how long it's been since i've properly written something oh my god #anywho. -jazz hands- i hope u enjoy #not proofread btw so if you see a mistake no u dont

[xinupurin]

comfort.

———————(´-`」 ∠)—————————

wriothesley x reader warnings : angst ! wriothesley accidentally snaps ! regret ! cuddling ! kisses

| this fic is : sfw . not proofread . reader is gender neutral

| used petnames : darling . dear

Since Wriothesley works in his office all day, you felt as if this was the perfect time to visit him. He dearly loves you, there’s a mutual connection between you both lovebirds. You pack up some fruits to ensure that Wriothesley is eating no matter what—even if it’s just fruits, it’s better than nothing.

You made your way to his office with a smile on your face while holding a cute tupperware filled with peeled grapes, all peeled by your own hands. You could hear papers flipping when you opened the door, looking at him excitedly.

“Wrio!”

He looked up at you, a worn out face, but he still gave you a small smile before focusing back onto his work. You approached his table, putting down the tupperware. You even wrote a little note, leaving it inside the tupperware.

“Thank you, dear… I’m a little busy right now.”

Wriothesley smiled softly, not looking at you as he nodded in approval. You stood closely, looking at his work while gently rubbing small circles on his neck.

“Wrio, d’ya like green grapes better… or the purple ones?”

You gently asked him, hoping for his answer therefore you could pack his preferred fruits next time. Wriothesley seemed slightly distracted, he didn’t want to be distracted though he loved you dearly.

“I like both, whatever you choose.”

He gave you that sweet smile that you adore, finding your lips curving upwards as well. You pressed a soft peck onto his neck while watching him work. Wriothesley is calm and collected, there’s no way he’d ever get angry at you—or so you thought.

“Darling… I’m quite busy, could you please save those kisses for later on?”

He spoke softly yet a little sternly, still giving a small smile. Of course, you nodded in response, figuring that he was just trying to complete as much work as possible.

“Wrio, do you want me to make you some dinner? Oh! I was thinking about… hm, some pasta?”

You smiled at him softly, thinking about dinner as you listed down what ingredients you still had at home. That was quickly interrupted by a stern voice.

“My God—I said I’m busy! Can’t we talk about this later!?”

Wriothesley snapped, still not looking at you as his eyebrows furrowed and slamming his pen down. Your eyes widened, not expecting that kind of response as you felt your heart clench a bit.

“Oh… I’m sorry… I’ll just… go home, yeah?”

You quickly left his office, head overflowing with thoughts; did he get mad at you? As you left, Wriothesley realized what he did when you spoke in that tone, his head slightly dropped but he should just finish up his work first…

He got hungry pretty fast, opening the tupperware you packed for him as he looked at the note inside. ‘Make sure to eat properly, okay? These grapes aren’t going to fill you up. Love you.’ The note wrote. He felt an instant regret and guilt. Wriothesley knew he might’ve been too harsh with his tone on you, especially on his beloved.

You get home all tired, feeling a little guilty for bothering him. You wrap yourself in your blankets of your shared bed with your head clouded with thoughts. It was hard to brush it all off… knowing he’s angry at you. You felt especially bad… your heart squeezing around as you tried to fall asleep.

Wriothesley couldn’t even finish his work, seeing that note was enough for him to get up from his chair as he made his way back to your shared home. It wasn’t a short journey… nor was it a long journey but he wanted to ensure you comfort with his sweet words. As time went by, the bedroom door eventually opened. You still pretended to be asleep incase he’d argue with you when you woke up.

You felt a familiar big pair of hands wrap around you, his forehead against the back of your head as he softly spoke in a gently voice.

“I’m so sorry, dear… I didn’t mean to come out as harsh—I was just so frustrated with work. Please let me make it up to you… I’m so sorry.”

You let out a deep breath, feeling his lips on your neck. It’s like he knew you weren’t asleep. You weren’t sure what to say… nor did you know how to react but afterall, you did love him.

“Did you finish the grapes?”

That was what you asked—out of everything, you responded to him with that. His eyes widened softly as he gently kissed your nape, chuckling softly.

“Darling… I was harsh to you earlier and you’re worried whether I ate the grapes or not?”

Wriothesley chuckled as he snuggled closer, not letting you escape from his grasp. You put hardwork into peeling those damned grapes all for your dearest…

“How could I not? Those grapes took me so long to peel..!”

You smiled softly, feeling that you forgot about what happened earlier and brushing it off with a giggly conversation. He chuckled along with you, his cheek pressing up against yours.

“Okay, okay~ Still, I’m sorry for earlier…”

He worriedly spoke as he turned you around, pressing a peck onto your lips with a sneaky smile.

———————(´ཀ`」 ∠)—————————

A/N ：angst is not for the weak like me T_T but !! ive had this concept in my mind for awhile even though ive never wrote fics before cjfndjdndn i love wrio though

#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley x you #genshin impact x you #genshin x you

[its-actually-minicika]

The Harshest Winters (18+!)

Part 4;;

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

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

Word Count: 15k+ (wowza i know)

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

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

A war is in its midst.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The fool had been reached by an arrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t need a maid to help me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A sympathetic look was shared between them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For a while, Time herself froze before them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Comparing him to Jacaerys was a laughable feat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, he knew it was too soon for that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… Were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

The rest of the night was spent in washed quietness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Family feuds were neither one's strongest suit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nearby the aching knight, Lady Arryn renowed her position.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, my lady."

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

"Yes, my lady. The very one."

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

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

"... Aye, my lady."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

How lovely it was to sit between comfort and chaos.

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

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

So he was softening up.

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

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

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

Your Grace. Your Grace. Your Grace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was too sober for this.

Lucaerys, Jacaerys, Cain.

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

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

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

"... Aemond."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wanted to feel something.

She wanted…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Aemond."

"(Y/N)."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She could almost pretend that he was Jace.

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

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

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

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

She had uttered the words aloud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A starved meowl left her panting lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A moment she would forever grow to resent.

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

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

"Liar." Aemond rasped in acknowledgment.

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

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

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

"What are you d–"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hen lantoti ānogar. Va sỹndroti vāedroma."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sỹndroro öñö jēdo. Rỹ kīvia mazvestraksi."

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

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

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

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

"NO!"

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

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

"Fuck your fucking pledge."

Some grand venue she received.

A single question hung loosely into the air.

"Are you going to rape me now?"

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

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

As soon as it came, the look of utter betrayal left his face.

"You would slit my throat with the knife." Was his mere reply.

***

Sometime along the night, he left.

The mighty roars of Vhagar registered themselves in the far-away distance.

That night, and only that night, she allowed herself the sacrilege of prayer. And she did so, again and again, pleading to the Seven for a blind arrow to reach his neck.

On the back of Vhagar, Aemond shuddered away from the impossible waves of heat, that licked deliciously at his stiffened cock; whenever her breathing would reach his ears, he felt tortured, trapped beneath the swell of lust and wanton desire.

Despite his abhorrent decision, he knew what their marriage meant. He knew all too well what his cruel bind had done, and yet… he felt no plausible remorse for the situation at hand.

The support of Storm's End, Floris Baratheon, Alys – mere casualties compared to the brink of having her, to knowing that she was finally his, as he was wholly hers.

Eventually, she'd have to love him. Eventually, she'd learn to do so.

A marriage wasn't a marriage until it was consummated. But he would give her, as he had promised, the illusion of choice, if nothing else.

As the cold night's air whipped his face again and again, and as Vhagar's thundering resounded over the burnt trees of the Riverlands, Aemond sighed, and brought a shaky hand to the strings of his breeches.

Scared as she was, his Lady made for a beautiful bride. It was such a shame that he didn’t get to see her wear the traditional Targaryen gown.

The pad of his thumb trailed over the cut he'd made – the same cut that now rested over her extended palm.

The flesh would scar, he thought, well pleased; whenever he looked at her, he'd get to see how she was undeniably his.

A possessive growl etched from his parted lips. Images of her paling skin, of her laugh. Her smile. The way her eyes bore into him, as if she always knew something he didn’t.

Leisurely, he began to pump his cock. Below him, Vhagar let out an anguished roar.

"Nyke gīmigon, Vhagar. Gīmigon."

Droplets of precum rolled over his clenching digits, coating his knuckles and the base of his shaft in a translucent, but thick ropes.

He groaned desperately, aching to relieve his frustration deep within her, but alas…

His gruff moans filled the air around him; and Aemond could feel his climax building up, as visions of her flooded his thoughts.

How she would feel underneath him. How she would writhe on the edge of bliss, begging, pleading for him to finally take her.

He could feel her legs wrapping around him, and feel himself sliding inside her with ease, praising her for being so good to him.

He wrapped Vhagar's bridle tight over his arm, and secured himself better in his leather saddle. His grip tightened around his dripping cock, but it was just not good enough.

The pace with which he fucked his hand picked up in a wilding speed. Aemond sighed in pleasure, and felt his hips move to their own accord. His breathing became rugged. His very mind was not his own.

He wondered what other scars her body bore. What the story behind them was, and how many of them came by his swift undoing.

Would she lie down and let him take care of everything? Or would she want to stay on top, jumping up and down on him, each time with a harsher thrust?

His hips rose and fell with his less than gentle pace, and the man pushed his length deeper into his steadfast grip.

He knew that if she let him touch her, he wouldn't be leaving her bed for weeks. He would pull countless orgasms from her, time and time again, until she begged for him to stop. He would have her so full of his seed, so the Gods' help him, that she would swell with his child – his trueborn child – before the rise of the first rays of sun.

Feeling his release beckon, the Prince set on a final rhythm, one that left his loins more in need than ever. With a loud hiss, he pushed himself inside his fist one final time, spilling his seed onto the saddle beneath him.

He panted wildly into the night, and suddenly opened his lustful eye, allowing a tear of ecstasy to roll off his scarred cheek.

"Se Jaes daoriot rȳbagon naejot nykeā vala raqagon issa. Yn nyke jāhor jikagon va issa knees se kostilus zirȳla naejot ivestragī issa emagon ao. Ao issi issa rōva botagon se se olvie rivaestra lambraes aohvra."

He couldn't keep up the charade with her. He would tell her all about it, once things finally settled down.

Word in Harrenhal traveled fast.

First it was her brash arrival. Then her impromptu marriage.

No one dared to talk to her. Yet she was never without the indiscreet eyes that followed her about.

Her situation wasn't without its ups and falls: Aemond felt no need to guard her as stiffly anymore – For where would the former Tully go, now that she bared his Targaryen name?

She was allowed to breach into some castle corners, always in the company of hefty guards, of course, and basked herself in some new acquired perks of freedom.

On the same account, whilst Alys remained loyal to her role as her lady-in-waiting, the tension between them couldn't have been more pain-strikingly high.

"I never asked for this. You must believe me."

She gave the younger woman a domineering stare, and only shook her head, obliged.

"And yet here you stand, inside his bed."

Word in Harrenhal spread fast – like a fire left unattended, like the so-called "Targaryen madness".

But a new, particular rumor gobbled the attention of everyone present.

Daemon Targaryen was to return to the Riverlands. And with him and Caraxes, he'd bring forth the formerly wild dragon, Sheepstealer, mounted by none other than Nettles.

The Lady had been acquainted with the bastard girl before – when the Sowing of the Dragon Seeds reveled in their first borne crops.

Another troubling report came forth. King's Landing had been secured by Rhaenyra.

When (Y/N) heard the news be whispered, she almost collapsed on her knees in glee. This must have marked the end of it. Surely, the usurpers would be put through the sword, leaving all to be well, and right again.

The Greens would die. They would face trial.

The Greens.

Indeed, word in Harrenhal spread fast. And she'd just been made the wife of the cruelest of them all.

Dread filled her insides. Her eyes cast their darkened shadow over the walls of the cursed Keep. A single, fundamental truth raised strongly from her anxious wallowing.

If Daemon Targaryen should find out about her marriage to his nephew, and get to her first… naught of the loyalty of the Riverlords would have a single say in her decided fate. And she would meet her end by the way of his blade, Dark Sister.

Now, more so than ever, it was pivotal for her to escape.

The clock was ticking.

And she was running out of time.

***

Her last day in Harrenhal was spent making plans. She'd rubbed her temples a myriad times, and paced about the room in a dizzying trot.

It wasn’t enough for her to disappear – she had to ensure everyone else thought she was gone.

When Aemond returned, she beckoned his call by jumping to her ready feet. The girl took him in, in his devillished state, and merely raised her brows at him. Whenever she saw him, the nick on her palm and lip itched at her relentlessly.

Neither was willing to recognize aloud what had transpired two moons ago, but both knew the inevitable punishment that would come with Aemond's actions.

He took a seat by the edge of their bed, and took his dagger out to play with it.

In vain he had asked Alys to share with him what she could see. She laid in broken, cradling her forming bump – the one she so desperately tried to hide away from him. The one thing that once meant her protection and raise in rank, now could very well heed out her doom.

Her green eyes raised from the floor below them, and Alys merely shook her head.

"There is fire, my Prince. Fire, and blood, and death."

"Going out to face two dragons is a death sentence." His deep voice rumbled through the silent chamber, "I can't afford that risk anymore with you involved."

And there it was. The silent admission of what he had done.

"We'll have to move from Harrenhal. You'll get to meet Daeron in Oldtown."

Was he sorry for what he did?

"It was about time you got acquainted with the rest of the family."

Aegon's cause was lucky that Storm's End was already too involved. They couldn't turn in their banners to the other front. Not now.

"It's a wonderful idea." She uttered in a glacial tone, barely above a whisper. "When will we depart?"

Sharpened orbs came in contact with the loneness of a purple eye.

The man took in a sparring breath, and hummed at her obedient retreat. The Prince's fist clenched over his cutting wound, and he nodded his head firmly.

"Should we be graced with the Gods' favor, issa jorrāelagon, then on the morrow," He explained, "but no sooner than that."

The girl's brows furrowed in discontent, as Aemond faltered in pressing the matter further. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with the aid of two long fingers, and heavily rose from his seat.

"Don't wait for me tonight. I shall return to you in the morning. I have unfinished business to attend to."

Lack of air. And crippling fear.

Her tiny world had been thrown into the arms of chaos. But everything fell so perfectly into place.

As soon as Aemond had mounted Vhagar, as soon as her father of wings died upon the night's first watch, the woman sprung to her feet, and began her soul's ascent into the pits of the Seven Hells.

She started off by breaking in her tiny mirror, placing a goose feather pillow below and over it, to somehow mask the clefty noise.

Her long hair was the first to go. She began cutting it swiftly, using big and brisk movements to chop off as many of her luscious locks as she possibly could.

She ripped the mattress of the bed open with one of the bigger shards, and revealed Aemond's dried-up shirt, that she had tucked well under after washing it, long preparing it for that occasion.

Her stomach churned as her hand went to her chamber pot. Risking her own deniability, she submerged her digits deep within it, letting out a victorious huff as she brushed across a piece of cold felt.

The insides of the sack revealed fermented meat – putrid, more like. She scattered the final remains of it over the stone floor like a mad-woman, and ripped the latter pages of the book Alys had gifted her.

She would take the passage to the stables, and simply hope for the best.

Her eyes searched feverishly about the cluttered room, but the hammering in her heart stilled only as she gaped upon the lower left corner of the wall full of banners.

There it was. Exactly where Alys told her it was going to be.

She tore into the mattress further, spreading the wool around, and grabbed a hold of a piece of wood from the crackling fire.

May she be forgiven for what she was about to do.

Her shaky hands grasped the lumber strongly, and she let it roll in the middle of the room, allowing it to fall with a loud bang.

***

The sound of wailing screams echoed inside her head, scratching at her ears, to the point of making them almost bleed. The heat of the fire she caused fell over her skimpily clothed back, and the disgust she felt with herself was palpable against her tongue.

With every turn she took, she made herself another promise. She would not rest until the war would see its end. She'd never sleep warmly again, and forever remind herself of the sacrifice she had to make – of all the lives that she undoubtedly ended, if only to meet her selfish ends.

For once, this was not just Aemond's doing. This was her fault all alone.

Blinded by rage, and seething with fury, her feet carried her down the crooked set of stairs. The woman brought a hand up to her face, and coughed wildly in the back of it. She'd have to make a bold turn soon. Then the outside world would heed, and she would be free again.

With just a twinge of luck, the guards should think that whatever was left of her room collapsed upon herself inside. Her burnt hair and clothes would create the wanted look – the meat would add the unmistakable smell of rot and death, and the lack of an actual body would take days to figure out.

And she prayed. She prayed, she prayed, she prayed: that no one else knew of the passages that she was threading through below.

Her eyes could barely see in front of her. Smoke rose to unforgiving levels, and the Lady swore it could be cut even by the dullest knife. As she reached the crossroads of the secret tunnel, her hands came to grapple at the breeches' pockets, turning them inside out – trying to find the torn pages of the book she'd just previously carried.

A sigh of relief rumbled from within her throat, as the pads of her shaking digits stroked across the withered, olden pages.

Her relief would be short lived.

Boney hands snaked around her, and the girl nearly screamed – until the familiar scent of mint and wild berries floored her senses.

"Alys?!" Her voice let out in an exasperated high. "Alys, we need to hurry!"

But her able hands still hesitantly clung to the soft material of her shirt, digging so deeply into it, that she could rip it in a downward pull.

"You –" She began to say, but cut herself short as she momentarily closed her eyes.

No matter what, she couldn’t tell the Lady before her that she'd have sent her upon her death.

"You took a wrong turn. This isn't the right way towards the South Gates."

The adrenaline flooded her veins. Her heart was pumping wildly against her ears. Lady Tully only nodded, failing to process that Alys had, in fact, never given her access to such an option on the crudely drawn map.

"This way, (Y/N) – came quickly!"

Two sets of legs descended further into the murky passages of Harrenhal. At one point, the smoke had gotten so very thick, that both women had to feel their way out, by touching the corners of every tunnel that they surpassed.

When all seemed lost, Alys finally spoke, "Over here!" She yelled out to her, and latched onto Aemond's dampened shirt.

They stumble into each other, as the small opening of the stifling cellar reaches the South Gates. The witch stops hastily on her heel, and the young Lady nearly busts their cover.

A raid of soldiers came flocking out, with what then looked like tens of thousands of squealing maids. So frightened by their own demise, they bumped into the oak doors and onto each other – choosing to, instead of unlocking the main Gates, reach and pull at the other's hairs, cursing loud and wildly.

Alys let out a bemused huff at their perused antics, but her reglament was short lived; as one of the smarter lassies reached for the illustrious piece of wood, and opened the doors with the loudest of creak.

"Now's our chance," The Lady of Riverrun whispered to her fellow escapee, grabbing onto her wrist harshly, and dragging her out and into the light. "Mingle in the crowd, Alys –"

"My Lady, do not stray far –"

The older woman let out a staggering breath, as she raised her skirts to follow suit on the trail left by the hot-headed girl.

She is Elmo's daughter alright, she disarmingly told herself, Just as hopeless and reckless as he once was.

Alys almost tackled her to the ground, as Lady Tully succumbed herself deeper into the burnt out forest. She gripped onto her hands with hers, so harshly, that she'd definitely leave her mark. "I thought I had told you not to stray far."

The breathless form of the lost child before her appeared to be enough to soften a tad of her resolve. "When I tell you something, I expect you to do it."

Whilst chastising her deeply for her foolhardy behavior, the woman searched her pockets, and pushed out two quarter silvers into her trembling hands.

"You'll go towards the Rushing Halls and buy yourself a mule from the Half Calf's Inn."

As the younger Lady nodded feverishly at her late advice, Alys clasped her cheeks with her hands, and brought her head further towards her. "You'll keep a straight line to the Green Fork. You won't stop to eat or drink – you won't stop until you reach Hag's Mire. Make sure to cover the cut on your hand with this." As she spoke, Alys pushed a black glove into her resting hands.

The Bliss of Riverrun threw the witch a bewildered look. Her eyes searched adamantly for hers, and the woman panted out in pure wonder. "How did you know I intended on migrating North?

"I've already seen you do it." She shook her shoulders promptly, "I've already seen you succeed."

Her green eyes softened, if only for a blazing moment; but the crackling of the trees behind them snapped her out of her inward trance. "Don't waste anymore time. Your diversion was smart, but he will try to find you."

The girl reached down, to squeeze her hands, perhaps, in a wordless display of gratitude and affection. Her soft fingers interlaced over her boney knuckles, and Alys muttered a faint blessing over the twisted arch of her furrowed brow.

The Lady turned around, but not before pausing and shooting the witch one last fiery look. "Come with me." She offered determinedly, and shook her head strongly as Alys took a step back. "He'll try to punish someone for it. You're his next available girl." She begged her to see to reason.

"My place remains here. By his side."

(Y/N)'s eyes hardened at her thorough admission, but she strained herself to shoot the wet nurse back with a curt nod.

"I shan't forget what you did for me." She promised her elder with a minute smile.

"A heads-up when you next decide to set the whole stronghold on fire would be most appreciated…!" She lightheartedly told her, despite the obvious wabbling of her lower lip.

(Y/N) nodded, but remained hammered in place for another while. Alys' hand reached to cup over her face, but a brisk moment of clarity was quick to change her mind.

"Go, you foolish girl…!" She snapped, "Make good use of that promise you made."

Her feet began moving on their own accord. Her mind was blazing with all of the unfinished tasks at hand.

She would run towards the Rushing Halls. Buy a mule. Retreat towards Green Fork. Reach the Twins.

Her road shall lead to Winterfell. If Forrest Fray remained the same kind fool that he once was, she should have no trouble sending Cregan Stark a raven.

And if she could reason with Jacaerys' friend, take in his testimony of protection, perhaps her life wasn't lost just yet.

The gusts of wind ran through her shortened and unkempt hair. Aemond's clothes hung loosely over her, and the stench of fire and ash filled her nostrils with something else other than hopeless dread.

Never before in her life, did the girl run so fast.

Taglist:

Translations:

Gevie… = Beautiful;

Gaomagon daor sagon zūgagon, issa dōna jorrāelagon. Nyke kivio ao naejot sagon gīda. = Do not worry, my sweet love. I promised you I would be patient;

Mēre tubis ao jāhor jaelagon issa. = One day you will desire me;

Se Jaes emagon qrimbrōstan issa naejot jorrāelagon ao. = The Gods have cursed me to love you;

Gīda ilagon, Vhagar. Sagon nykeēdrosa... Sȳz hāedar. = Calm down, Vagar. Be still. Good girl;

Jaes, ao istan vēttan syt issa. = Gods, you were made for me;

Sepār jurnegon skorkydoso īlon kostagon fāelor hēnkirī. = Just look how perfectly we fit together;

Dōna hāedar… ȳdra daor hakogon qrīdrughagon hen issa sir = Sweet girl… don't pull away from me now;

Yn nyke istan zarvīzis. Nyke emagon issare sīr sȳz se… sīr, sīr zarvīzis. = But I've been patient. I've been so good and… so, so patient;

Ao aehron raqagon ao ȳdra daor jaelagon bisa... = You act like you don't want this…;

Yn ao jaelagon issa sepār hae olvie. Ao mazilībagon syt issa – sepār hae qosaevaerī. = But you want me just as much. You ache for me – just as badly.

Ÿdra daor dīnagon, issa gevie Dāria. Nyke jāhor dōrī jaelagon naejot ōdrikagon. = Don't cry, my beautiful Princess. I would sooner die than hurt you;

Valyrian Wedding Vows: Blood of two, joined as one, ghostly flame, and song of shadows, two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires, a future promised in glass – the stars stand witness, of the vow spoken through time, of darkness and light;

Nyke gīmigon, Vhagar. Gīmigon. = I know Vhagar, I know;

Se Jaes daoriot rȳbagon naejot nykeā vala raqagon issa. Yn nyke jāhor jikagon va issa knees se kostilus zirȳla naejot ivestragī issa emagon ao. Ao issi issa rōva botagon se se olvie rivaestra lambraes aohvra. = The Gods don't listen to men like me. But I would go on my knees and beg them to let me keep you. You were once the bane of my existence… and now, you find yourself the center of it.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #the harshest winters #aemond imagine #aemond fanfiction #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys strong #house of the dragon #jacaerys valaryon #jacaerys imagine #jacaerys angst #aemond smut #bookcanon aemond targaryen #dark aemond x reader #dark aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #yandere aegon targaryen #unhinged aemond yep yep

[weirdmageddon]

yesterday i wrote a scene where jade wasnt a plot device and was left the hell alone in A6A5 because this being dave and jade’s last proper conversation in years made me sad and i wanted to see them reunite properly. i mixed a bit of narration in too even though it was rare around this point in the comic but its just to paint a better picture. also i wouldnt mind feedback on character voice (it’s important to me that the dialogue sounds believable)

[3 years are over, everyone is in the new session. The prospit ship is on LOMAX, as is everyone who arrived on the meteor, safely warped by Jade onto LOMAX as well. Jade has banished B2 Jack to the Furthest Ring already. She hasn't seen her friends in 3 years, not to mention she never met the trolls in person yet.]

[Jade teleports to LOMAX where John was talking with the meteor crew. Her eyes widen when she sees the trolls, giving everyone a greeting. Jade waves to the trolls.]

You’ll have time to catch up with them later. First you want to reconvene with Rose and Dave.

> ==>

Dave... Oh my god! DAVE!!! That’s right! The last time you saw him, he died in your arms after Jack redirected the bullets from your gun into his body!

JADE: dave!!!! DAVE: hey DAVE: this has been three years coming hasnt it DAVE: cmere

> ==>

[Dave hugs Jade with a slight grin on face. He notices her… sniffing him?? but doesn’t even bother to question it.]

JADE: it is so nice to hold your body when its not a corpse :) DAVE: ok DAVE: weird thing to say DAVE: actually who am i kidding who gives a shit DAVE: i almost forgot how much i missed the enigmatic riddlefuckery that is your phrasing DAVE: fortunately i have context for this so i know what youre saying DAVE: humor me for a sec and imagine that i didnt DAVE: but first DAVE: are those dog ears JADE: yes! i am part dog now JADE: because i prototyped my dreamself with becsprite JADE: jadesprite became part of me! and so did her doggy traits from bec DAVE: got it DAVE: oh yeah john mentioned that on the back of his dumb poster inside that bucket that appeared out of thin air DAVE: right before we had to haul ass out of there before jack caught up to us DAVE: karkat had a complete fucking meltdown over that btw i wish you couldve seen it DAVE: damn it feels like so long ago now JADE: heheheh i remember JADE: john realized it at the last second but it was too late! DAVE: of course it was johns idea only he could do something that gooberish DAVE: you know what this means though JADE: yup!! woof woof DAVE: it means youve done it harley DAVE: youve finally done it god damn it DAVE: the evolution of humankind is finally upon us DAVE: the scientists said it would never happen in our lifetime DAVE: but look what we have here DAVE: before me stands mans first legitimate furry subspecies DAVE: homo canis DAVE: as the name implies theyre gay as fuck btw DAVE: its too bad all those scientists are dead and cant witness this phylogenetic breakthrough DAVE: rip to the science community yall wouldve lost your collective shit DAVE: hey jade lets pour one out for the science community for being real ones

> ==>

You are still nestled into Dave’s shoulder. He’s taken a sort of protective position over you. Your perceptive barkbeast ears can hear his formerly bullet-riddled heart beating a mile a minute with the regularity of quartz beneath his time-branded pajamas, all the while he continues to ramble to you about certifiably dumb shit. You can tell Dave is psyched to see you again, even if he expresses it in his OWN bizarre way, which means extended metaphors and topical tangents. What a hypocrite, calling YOUR phrasing perplexing! You sure missed this guy.

You realize you started tuning him out while thinking about all this.

DAVE: jade JADE: umm homo is the species name JADE: so wouldnt that mean were all gay? :p DAVE: yeah that sounds about right DAVE: anyway enough of this bullshit

> ==>

[Dave motions to retract his arms since he doesn’t want it to get too weird, but Jade squeezes tighter. Dave immediately yields to the movement]

DAVE: jesus wow ok DAVE: really happy to see you too DAVE: like if you had a tail it would be wagging so forcefully youd be knocking over all the fucking furnishings in the room DAVE: just slapping it so hard on the owners thigh that it feels like theyre being flogged DAVE: talk about getting bitch slapped JADE: :D DAVE: so howve you been JADE: really really excited to see you guys all again!!! JADE: and to meet the trolls! DAVE: yeah theyre pretty weird DAVE: and im still not used to it DAVE: but it gets more manageable the longer youre around them DAVE: by the way JADE: ?

> ==>

DAVE: sorry you had to go through that JADE: through what? DAVE: seeing me die and stuff again DAVE: except that time right in front of you JADE: .... DAVE: when we were gathering up all those frogs i knew jack was going to appear DAVE: i was waiting and waiting to play it out DAVE: mentally rehearsing my fucking torso getting turned into swiss cheese and knowing you would have to watch on top of it DAVE: i had to make sure it happened to protect the integrity of the alpha timeline DAVE: but if you knew this was going to happen you wouldve tried to prevent it and created a doomed one DAVE: and so i didnt say anything DAVE: i couldnt DAVE: so DAVE: sorry for putting you through that JADE: oh..... JADE: dave D: JADE: well im here JADE: if you ever want to talk about it DAVE: its cool DAVE: you just deserve to know what happened there DAVE: but thanks DAVE: so am i JADE: yeah i know JADE: i guess i should be glad you did that then... JADE: even though i was freaking out when it happened ._. JADE: otherwise you wouldnt be here will us now dressed in your red god tier time pajamas DAVE: yeah these magical rags really are comfortable arent they DAVE: and they stay like perma clean JADE: they are! i would wear mine over and over for days on end JADE: id take a nice shower and put it right back on JADE: and you know how much i love cycling my outfits through my wardrobifier JADE: by the way dave your cape is sooo cool! :o DAVE: thanks DAVE: yeah i love it its hella soft DAVE: its like ive got a portable snuggle blanket with me in case i ever need to drop to the floor like a tired sack of shit and get my snooze on DAVE: ive got a permanent personal reservation at club bed featuring dj pillow and mc blanky JADE: heheheh JADE: can i touch your cape? DAVE: of course go nuts JADE: yaaaay!!

#hs #homestuck #davejade #dave strider #jade harley #my hs dialogues

[marksbear]

Hi! I'm not sure if your request are still open but if they are could i ask for yandere Steven Grant x male reader who also is yandere? Or just the reader that is yandere i don't really mind. But i don't have any specific idea other than Steven showing his yandere side to y/n, and y/n is shocked at first but than returns the same yandere affection (?) But more passionately than Steven? And maybe that leads to smut? But if you don't want to write this i don't mind! It's just an idea that's been bugging me for a while now. Thank you for reading!

I hope you're doing well !

I wrote this with inspiration from Bones and all and You. So this is some lovely dovey, DARK kinky shit ❤

A/n: This has to be one of the most jaw dropping shit I ever wrote.

Warning! REALLY DARK, blood kink, bloody sex, blood as lube, protective and obsessive reader and Steven, sadistic reader, murder, alcohol, semi public sex( idk if in a room in a party is public or not.) delusional Steven, breeding kink crying kink forgot what its called in English

H/t= Hair type, H/c= hair color, E/c= eye color

SUB YANDERE STEVEN GRANT X DOM YANDERE MALE READER

Steven stands afar holding a cup of tea watching his crush interact with others. Steven didn't even know how he got invited to his co-worker house party, but he wasn't complaining since Y/n was here.

Y/n stood out from the group of people he was talking to. He had H/t with H/c that makes his hair look even more beautiful with e/c that completes his beautiful face. He even had the smallest scar on his left cheek from mostly he got as a kid. Steven noticed everything about his crush. How he would crack his fingers when talking to a stranger or even how he'd sometimes wink at someone on accident.

He loved every small detail and big one about Y/n.

Even though Y/n and him only met a few times Steven was still in love.They had exchanged names and what they did for a living when they had met.

Y/n worked as a freelancer. But he was different from any freelancer sure he did the standard jobs to get by, but he knew people and people knew him. Hell it was even rumored that he worked with Tony Stark for a couple jobs. Sadly though Y/n never stayed in the same place he traveled a lot, but it seems that he might actually stay at London.

What got Steven out of his thoughts as he watched a woman flirt with Y/n shamelessly. It was most likely the alcohol speaking for her, but Steven didn't care. Steven clenched his cup with anger as he watches.

The woman follows Y/n around like a lost puppy no doubt making Y/n irritated. Steven lets out a sigh before turning his attention away from Y/n momentarily.

Steven begins to wonder around the partying enjoying himself, but sadly it is ruined by someone accidentally bumping into him knocking his drink out of his hand in the process and getting on on his shirt.

"Oh god. Maddie see what you did!" A voice rings out catching Steven's attention. Steven felt time slow down as him and his long term crush made eye contact. "Steven! Fuck man i'm sorry about her. Cmon follow me Steven." Y/n says taking Steven's hand dragging him upstairs as Maddie follows.

Y/n looks for empty rooms so he can properly talk to Steven and help him with his shirt. Finally Y/n finds one and pulls Steven inside with Maddie rushing inside.

The room muffles all the screaming and music from outside. Maddie shakily sits on the bed while Steven stands in the middle of the room awkwardly.

"Steven could you take your shirt off. I'm going to see if I can wash off the stain." Steven nervously does what he's told watching Y/n take his shirt and walk inside the bathroom. Steven stares at Y/n thinking to himself not noticing Maddie approaching him.

"Not to bust your bubble man. But you have no chance with him. Y/n L/n is a black bottomless pit. Don't fall in love with him, you'll just end up like his ex-boyfriend Darren missing for months..." Maddie says taking another sip of her beer. Steven glares at the woman.

"I bet he killed him. I heard they had a nasty fight before Darren went missing. Don't trust him. Hes a evil son of a bitch that thinks he rules the world. He's also a insane maniac."

After those words fall from her mouth Steven could only see red. He didn't know what took over his body as he tackled the woman on the floor and began to punch her and smash her head against the floor repeatedly. Steven couldn't hear anything he could hear muffled shouting from Y/n, but he couldn't make out the words. Time went slow as Maddie's once beautiful face began to get ruined from blood. Blood begins to get everywhere, splashing onto Steven's body and face.

Steven didn't know how long he's been punching the woman only snapping out of his trance once he's pushed onto the ground by Y/n.

Time begins to speed up going back to its original speed. "Maddie! Oh god Madison." Y/n says looking down at her bloodied body. Y/n moves his hand to her cheeks shaking her. "Madison-- dear g-god please say something!" Y/n chokes out watching blood ooze out of her mouth.

"Y/n! I-I didn't mean to! I just blacked out okay! I-I" "Shut up Steven! You- you killed her. You fucking killed her Steven!" Y/n blurts out cutting Steven off.

Y/n and Steven were on the floor both of them covered in blood staring at each other. Y/n's body trembled in fear and anger not knowing what to do next.

"Why...Why did you do it?" Y/n lays Maddie's lifeless body back down giving Steven his full attention.

Steven stayed quiet.

"Huh!?! Why the hell did you kill her!" Y/n shouts staring down Steven.

"Because of you! She was talking bad about you! She called you a killer and an insane maniac! And the things she said weren't true because I know you Y/n! I-I watch and learn from you and I know you aren't the things she says. You're far from being a black bottomless pit. I did it for you Y/n! I killed her for you and only you!" Steven nervously blurts out.

Y/n stared at Steven. Y/n honestly didn't listen to anything he was saying besides the fact Steven said "I killed her for you." Those words burned into Y/n's mind causing a sadistic smile to slowly crawl onto his face.

"You did it for me? You killed her for me Steven. Say it again. That you'd killed her for me." Y/n says standing up from the pool of blood he was kneeling in. Y/n walks to Steven slowly. Steven noticed Y/n's eyes shined with dark intent.

Y/n doesn't bother to wipe the blood from his hands as he cups Steven's cheeks pulling his head up making him look him in the eyes. "I killed her for you Y/n..." Steven says. Y/n crouches down to Steven staring down at him.

"Y'know Steven. I always wanted someone to share the same feelings I had. Willing to kill someone for me. Or me killing someone for them. I love it. I love how you have been stalking me for the past few weeks. I love how you've been watching me the whole time during the party." Y/n says before adding. "I've been waiting for someone to share my entire life with Steven. And i'm glad that someone is you. Your entire body and your thoughts belong to me. You would only need me from now on Steven. Anything that's yours is mine. Your entire being is mine and mine only."

Steven couldn't believe his ears. Steven smiles brightly staring up at Y/n fully in a trance. If Y/n was a witch he had Steven fully in his spell. Y/n finally presses a deep kiss on Steven's lips. Steven quickly melts into the kiss wrapping his arms around Y/n's shoulders.

The blood of Steven's face rubs onto Y/n's own. As they makeout time begins to slow down for them. Y/n stripping out of his bloodied clothes as Steven begins to unbuckle his pants pulling them down alongside his boxers throwing them somewhere in the room.

Steven couldn't keep his hands off of Y/n. His hands roam across his back and chest as he sits in his lap. Y/n couldn't keep to himself either. He kissed and licked Steven's neck and bloodied face. They grind their hard cocks into each other humping each other. Y/n soon begins to grow bored of the foreplay and begins to move to the large puddle of blood, before slowly flipping the position laying Steven down in the blood.

Nothing ever looked so beautiful than both their bodies covered in blood. Steven looked up at Y/n looking into his hungry eyes. Y/n even looked a bit scary.

Y/n spreads Steven's legs open before using his free hand to slowly jerk Stevens cock. He gives it a few lazily strokes before jerking it off properly. "Are you okay with me prepping you like this?" Y/n asks gesturing to his blood covered fingers. Steven enthusiastically nods his head yes. Y/n begins to kiss Steven distracting him as he pushes one finger inside of his hole. Steven's body looked beautiful. He wasn't exactly covered in blood, but just the right amount to make his body shine.

Y/n moves his finger in and out using his other busy hand faster. Steven's body arch and wiggles around as Y/n pleasures him. Small light moans escape his lips.

Soon enough Y/n begins to add another digit fingering Steven at a faster pace. Y/n begins to curl and twist his fingers even grazing Steven's prostate as he finger fucks him deeper. Y/n's fingers begin to touch unfamiliar places to Steven causing him to let out loud moans and whimpers.

Steven's cock begins to leak precum and twitch. Even his cock veins begin to show as his cock throbs in Y/n's hand. Steven's hips begin to sink down into Y/n's fingers moving them up and down.

Once Steven is prepped enough to Y/n's liking he pulls his fingers out slowly. "Y/n~ Please g-go back inside! please please~" Steven begs watching Y/n cover his hand in blood before jerking off his own cock.

"Sorry our first time wasn't in a better place. Next time i'll do something special for the both of us." Y/n says before lining up his cock to Steven's entrance. After Steven takes a few deep breathes Y/n moves inside Steven.

"S-so big!~ fuck! You're so big!" Steven moans out already feeling so full from the tip. Y/n smirks to himself before moving deeper inside inch by inch. Once Y/n was only halfway inside Steven cums hard onto himself landing on his blood covered stomach and chest. Y/n watches as Steven cries and moans as he cums. Y/n takes the opportunity to thrust himself fully inside Steven.

Steven's mouth hangs open as he moans and cries as Y/n thrust in and out of him mercilessly. Steven couldn't bare to look Y/n in the eyes turning his head away. Y/n grabs Steven's legs hooking them over his shoulder before holding his thighs fucking Steven deeply.

Y/n's thrust is like an animal in his rut. His thrust is rough and fast no doubt causing Steven to walk with a limp.

The floor squeaked beneath them. Y/n fucked harder and harder throwing his head back in the process for a while. Steven's hole and prostate was getting abused by Y/n. Steven's walls tightened around Y/n causing him to go faster for pleasure. Steven could swear he heard Y/n growl as he fucks him like he was just some worthless toy.

Y/n grip of Steven's thighs tighten trying to keep Steven still as he drills his cock inside him. Y/n begins to hit Steven's prostate repeatedly. Steven's legs begin to feel like jello. They trembled and shook.

Loud and wet skin slapping filled the room alongside moans and cries. If the party went quiet and paused the music no doubt everyone in the house could hear what was going down upstairs. "Y-Y/n!~ slow down! fuck~ AhhHh~ please slow down~" Steven moans out knowing full and well he doesn't want Y/n to slow down. In fact Y/n just picks up the speed of his thrust. Steven's eyes begin to roll up as his moans begin to sound pornographic. Steven finally begins to feel Y/n twitch inside him.

"Cum inside me! breed me Y/n! Please get me pregnant s-so we can start a family together!" Steven blurts out with a loud moan.

Y/n's thrust slows down and begins to get sloppily as he feels his peak nearing. With a few more thrust Y/n cums deep inside painting his walls white. Y/n begins to thrust lazily calming down from his high before pulling out. Y/n drops Steven's legs off his shoulders but holds them up watching cum ooze out of Steven's over used hole and gets into the pool of blood.

"Even though I love the look of you covered in cum and blood we gotta get cleaned up. And about the whole thing about the body and the blood don't worry your pretty little head about it, I got it all covered alright?" Y/n says knowing full and well Steven's too much in a bliss to understand him.

Y/n begins to get up from the bed and walks to the bathroom and starts some bath water. Y/n finds some clean towels for both of them and gets everything ready. Y/n walks out and walks around the bedroom opening closets and dressers for clothes.

"I found some clothes for us!" Y/n shouts before putting them in the bathroom by the rest of the towels and everything.

Y/n walks over to Steven before picking him up bridal style walking him to the bathroom and setting him down in the bath. Y/n joins him after.

"What are we gonna do?" Steven nervously mumbles out. "Don't worry Steven. I'll take care of everything alright, I just need you to love me~" Y/n flirts with a wink.

"Besides Steven... No one is going to stop us from living our new life."

THE END

#yandere x male reader #yandere steven grant #yandere steven grant x male reader #x yandere male reader #x male reader #male reader #marvel x male reader #yandere marvel x male reader #yandere marvel #Yandere x yandere #steven grant x male reader #steven grant #steven grant x reader #the bear club

[tj-dragonblade]

[Fic] Use Your Words

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling (Hob x Morpheus) Rated: T Word Count: ~2500 Warnings: Mistletoe Notes: My first foray into this fandom. Be gentle; I may not have them quite right. It's been four years since last I wrote anything and I'm a bit rusty.  Many thanks to @virgo-dream for the beta!

Summary: Hob finds mistletoe hung in the bar. Dream is. Insistent. That they adhere to tradition.

On AO3

~~~***~~~ "Now where did that come from?"

'That' was a bright sprig of dark green leaves and waxy white berries, hanging innocently from a random low beam near the end of the bar, and Hob was very sure that he hadn't hung it there. Mistletoe was all well and good among friends and holiday parties and such, but putting it up in the pub where random strangers might happen beneath it in the middle of the afternoon, not so much. Bit of unneeded potential for harassment and Hob wasn't keen to invite that sort of trouble. He'd have to take it down post-haste and make sure his staff knew not to re-hang it.

Beside him, Dream blinked up at the little plant. "Mistletoe," he pronounced, in precisely the overly-casual tone of discovery one might use to imply one had just noticed something one had in fact already been aware of. "We. Would seem to be standing beneath it."

Hob frowned and peered up at the little sprig, which they were indeed now directly under when he was quite certain they hadn't been a moment ago. "…So we are." Which. Huh.

And didn't that set his nerves afire, just a little bit.

"We are meant to share a kiss, then, I believe?" Dream was staring at him now, intent and direct, the bare tilt of a question in his eyebrows.

And that set Hob's pulse racing, quite definitely, no 'little bit' about it.

"You know the tradition, then?" he hedged, mouth gone suddenly dry.

Dream favored him with a look that could have withered the greenery above them, and yes, right. Prince of Stories, entirety-of-the-collective-unconscious, all that. Holiday traditions surely fell within that purview.

Hob swallowed, nerves still singing a gloriously freaked-out tune over the drumbeat of his racing heart. Surely Dream was not expecting—

Dream was still looking at him, expectantly.

And it's not like Hob had any objections, of course! Not like he hadn't thought about the possibility of kissing Dream dozens of times, hundreds even—thousands perhaps, who was counting—but he'd never expected that Dream would suggest it first, under any circumstances, that it would ever be anything Dream could possibly want.

Was he reading things right?

He didn't think he was reading them wrong, but...well. Sure it'd been a hundred and thirty-odd years and there was certainly an openness to Dream these days that hadn't been there then, but "You DARE??" still haunted Hob on many levels and he'd rather not earn himself an encore. Especially not over a frivolous holiday tradition.

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly, aware of the heat in his face. "Okay but don't feel like you have to; there's no obligation." He glanced away, fiddled self-consciously with his earlobe. "I mean, it's just a silly tradition, not as if there's mistletoe police lurking about…"

Hob's dismissive rambling trailed off unconvincingly and Dream tilted his head a little, eyes narrowing the slightest bit.

"I would honor this tradition, Hob. Unless. Are you opposed?"

"Oh no! Not opposed, no." God, no, couldn't have him thinking that. "In that case then, ah, let me just—okay—" He leaned over and brushed a quick peck against the corner of Dream's mouth, quick enough to avoid the temptation of more, but not quick enough to avoid feeling the cool smoothness of Dream's skin beneath his lips in a way that would surely keep him awake long hours tonight.

Desperately trying to school his expression to 'normal' versus 'hopelessly besotted and dying to do that properly except I'm afraid of driving you off for another hundred years', Hob dared a glance at Dream's face. Which was…impassive as ever, with a hint of not-what-I-expected lurking in the downward tick of his mouth.

Wrangling his nerves, Hob flashed a grin and glanced up. "Can't forget to pick a berry, now, else people'll be stuck kissing under this forever—" What a completely inane thing to say, but he couldn't seem to quite get a handle on his tongue. At least none of the bar patrons were paying them any mind; they may as well have been alone for the lack of attention they were drawing.

The berry vanished from his grasp as soon as he'd plucked it, dissipated into nothingness, but that was to be expected, perfectly normal, right? He glanced at Dream to confirm and instead found himself watching transfixed as Dream reached up, pale, slender fingers caressing a waxy white berry of nearly the same shade, and Hob's fool mouth just kept running. "We don't both have to pick one, it's only, y'know, one berry one kiss—"

"I am aware." Dream cut him off and then, quite deliberately, pulled the little berry free of its stem. "But, as I wish to receive another kiss…" He was staring at Hob expectantly again.

Oh.

Still off-kilter, still not sure quite how this was actually happening but also still possessed of enough faculties to not question his good fortune just yet, Hob leaned in and pressed his lips softly to Dream's, full-on this time, lingering just a little. Dream tilted into it, moved his own lips in complement—and oh. Again. Hob shivered, a thrill of delight running effervescent down his spine, goosebumps blooming all along his arms.

He pulled back before he could let himself get lost in it, because getting lost in it would be so easy yet terribly unwise.

"Dream?" Now apparently was the moment to question, his mouth decided, to suss out what his (very dear) friend intended because surely, surely this couldn't be as straightforward as it was trying to appear?

But Dream was regarding him with something approaching consternation, mouth flat and eyes disbelieving; he reached up to pluck another berry, swift and precise, flicking it away to dissolve into thin air as he spoke. "Hob Gadling." He plucked another, and another, punctuating his next words sharply. "I would—" pluck "—have you—" pluck "—kiss me—" pluck "—properly."

Okay. However they'd gotten here, that was clear enough, and Hob wasn't waiting to be told again.

Dream met him halfway this time, fingertips lighting on his face to guide him properly-as-requested to Dream's mouth and Hob just went with it, tossed aside dozens of decades of caution and restraint and finally kissed Dream like he meant it. Dream made a tiny little sound, high and soft like a wish at long last granted and that was it. Hob threw his arms around Dream's skinny frame and Dream's hands tangled eagerly into his hair and they were kissing, kissing, kissing like they couldn't get enough and never mind the public setting.

Hob couldn't hear whether or not they were getting catcalls or wolf whistles, not over the thunder of his own pulse in his ears, and he couldn't have cared anyway because Dream was clinging to the curve of his skull, was kissing like he meant to devour him and Hob was one hundred percent down for it. He pressed himself flush against Dream, arms wrapped tight around him, feasting on Dream's ravenous intensity as the kissing went on and on.

Dream pushed forward and Hob followed his prompting, let Dream guide him one step back, two, and then they fetched up against the bar, the edge of the counter digging into Hob's spine. "Hob," Dream murmured, right against his lips, and Hob shivered at the way his name sounded in that voice at this moment. Dream was kissing down the line of his jaw now and Hob sighed, tilted his head up to offer his throat as well.

"God, is this really happening?" Running his mouth was going to be a continuing theme, apparently. "D'you have any idea how long I've dreamed about you, like this?"

Dream tucked his face into the arch of Hob's neck, breath soft against the skin there before he kissed, grazed it with sharp teeth. "Have you any idea, how long I have wished to do such things with you?"

"I—wait, no. Really?" Hob pulled back to look at him, but was caught instead by the silence of the pub around them. Was everyone staring; had they made that much of a scene?

No, as it turned out, because when Hob actually looked, he found that all the patrons had vanished and the pub itself was sort of washed over like watercolor, barely-there around the edges, an unfinished painting. Only the two of them and the beam hanging the mistletoe above them were in focus and fully rendered.

"Oh no, this is only—I'm dreaming, aren't I." He kissed Dream again anyway, absolutely crestfallen, remembering vanishing mistletoe berries and other unheeded anomalies that suddenly made sense. "You aren't even—this isn't real, is it, just my imagination. Again."

"I have told you, Hob, the Dreaming is as 'real' as the waking world."

"To you, I'm sure," Hob lamented, kissing him mournfully, speaking against his mouth, drawing the words across his cheek. "But are you actually here? Am I even going to remember this when I wake up?"

Dream paused at that, stepped back—stepped out of Hob's arms—and Hob ached at the sudden loss. Then, with an expression somehow equal parts annoyance, arousal, and apology, Dream reached up and pulled down the entire mistletoe sprig from overhead, made a quick horizontal gesture with his other hand. "This dream is over."

Hob startled awake, sprawled into the corner of his couch, disoriented for half a second at the abrupt change and scrambling madly to sit upright, to hold onto the threads of the dream. Because Dream had been in it, had all but demanded his kisses—and if he'd really been there—

His head jerked up toward a sudden shifting of displaced air across the room. Dream stepped into existence in a soft swirl of sand and stalked toward him, dropping the mistletoe sprig on the coffee table, swinging himself down to straddle Hob's lap with his knees snug against either hip. He pushed Hob back into the couch, looming over him in a way that had every bit of Hob paying very rapt attention.

Dream's hands smoothed over Hob's shoulders, as if to gentle a high-strung animal; ironic, that was, when Dream himself was held taut as a bowstring, so tense he was trembling with it.

Hob barely managed an almost-steady tone. "Not just a dream, then?"

Dream's eyes were boring into his with intensity, gone dark and starry. "Be assured, Hob. I would have this in the Waking as well as in the Dreaming. I would not have you…doubt, my affections—"

"Oh good," Hob croaked, and then both hands were buried in Dream's hair, mouth open and angling for Dream's, and Dream collapsed against him, melted into the kiss with a soft sound of relief that sent Hob absolutely soaring.

It was several moments before they drew apart, Dream's hands carding through Hob's hair now and Hob's at Dream's hips, keeping him settled close. Dream rested his forehead against Hob's, eyes fluttering shut, fingertips stroking gently against Hob's scalp. Hob shivered at the sensual touch, fragments of their dream encounter resurfacing while he caught his breath.

"How long, then?" He slid one hand gently up Dream's spine and back down.

"Long enough." Dream kissed him again, soft and eager. "Too long."

"You never said anything."

"Nor did you."

Hob slipped both arms around Dream's waist, underneath the galaxy-lined coat, giddy that he was allowed. "You were—I didn't think—clearly I'm an idiot, because here we are, but I couldn't imagine you taking kindly to my interest."

Dream drew back enough to study him, considering his words carefully. "I…would not have taken it kindly, before, no matter my own feelings. You are correct."

"But now?"

Dream kissed him again, fierce and insistent and sincere, a long moment of poured feeling before reining it in. "Much has happened, to alter my perspective." His lips brushed Hob's as he spoke and bloody hell but it was difficult for Hob to hold back when the promise of kissing him again was right there. He managed, though, because Dream wasn't done yet and Hob was desperately interested in what he had to say, actually.

Dream put a little more distance between their faces, held his gaze now, fingers still laced into his hair. "Hob. I would. Give you candor. I would have you know, the value I place on your friendship. I would express my regard for you in every way you will accept it."

"In any way. Every way. I'm yours. However you'll have me, whatever you'll allow." Hob was reasonably successful, he felt, at corralling his mental babbling into coherent speech. "I'm yours, Dream. I'm yours."

Affections. Regard. Bloody brilliant. He felt the radiant smile splitting his face and let it happen.

Dream kissed it as it blossomed, reverently, and Hob's heart ascended.

"I should like to kiss you more often, Hob Gadling," Dream declared then. "It is every bit the delight I had hoped it to be."

Hob was never coming back down to earth, was he. "Y'know, if you'd led with that and your pretty little speech instead of bleeding mistletoe, I would have been kissing you sooner?"

"It was meant to be…spontaneous, and whimsical." Both things that Dream was decidedly not, generally speaking, but Hob held his tongue. "The dreamers are currently…awash, in their various holidays and accompanying traditions. This tradition, in this season, seemed an opportune means to express my intentions."

'Intentions'. Wasn't that just a fine old-fashioned way of saying it.

Hob grinned wider, trying (and mostly failing, but trying, dammit) to keep the giddiness under control. "So…what you're saying is, you're my Christmas present?" It was a terrible joke. He couldn't help it.

Dream gave him a look halfway between askance and consideration. "…If you wish to view it as such, then…very well. I am your Christmas present."

Delighted, joyful, Hob leaned up and kissed him, because he could.

Dream straightened up a moment later, regal as anything never mind that he was still perched astride Hob's lap, and his well-kissed expression shifted into something mildly imperious. "It is customary to unwrap one's gifts when presented with them, is it not?"

Hob's brain stuttered, ground to a shuddering halt, full record-scratch Hob-dot-exe-has-stopped-working blue screen. Dream had allowed his terrible joke to stand, that was remarkable enough, but now he'd gone and turned it around and lobbed it back? Embellished it with innuendo, of all the impossible—?

He stared up at Dream, wide-eyed and tongue-tied. "Um."

Was he. Did he mean it?

Dream gave him a mildly unimpressed look, with a little curl of smugness underneath; he leaned back in, pressed himself close, grazed his rose petal lips across the shell of Hob's ear. The softest of sighs ghosted after, and then his voice, warm and dark and rich as velvet.

"Unwrap your present, Hob. That you may. Open it, properly."

Hob-dot-exe restarted with gusto; he didn't need to be told a third time.

All in all, it was a very merry Christmas indeed.

===== Started: 12/8/22

Drafted: 12/23/22

Posted: 12/25/22

#Dreamling #The Sandman #Dream of the Endless #Hob Gadling #TJs Fics #it's 4:30pm Christmas here as I post this #still timely go me #Sandman

[matty-bear]

IX. Sibling Introductions [N.S]

Type: Chapter nine of The Influencer series

Pairing: Nick Sturniolo x Male!OC

Warnings: SFW, tooth rotting fluff

Summary: Nick takes Finn to his place to meet Matt and Chris. 

Notes: new chapter woo 🔥🔥 def wrote more than I thought I would this cheater but I feel like yall deserve it ^^ feel like I made yall wait WAYYY too long for this chapter. I hope you enjoy it! Happy reading <3 

WC: 4608

CH10 CH8

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

“Oh come on, you’re acting like you’re gonna meet my parents.” Nick shakes his head lightly when he looks over at Finn who’s anxiously biting his nails. 

Both boys have arrived at the Sturniolo household and have been sitting in the driveway for the past 10 or so minutes. Nick found Finn’s nervousness quite endearing and couldn’t help but poke fun at the boy for being so scared at the thought of meeting his younger siblings. 

“You came out to them right?” Finn asks, his speech slightly muffled due to his pointer finger being in his mouth. Nick lets out a small laugh at the male’s question and looks down for a moment, his hand raising to cover his eyes as they squint at how hard he smiles.

“Are you serious?” Nick asks as he picks his head up and looks over at his boyfriend. Finn nods his head after a moment of hesitation, a nervous smile immediately appearing on his lips as he gets comfortable against the door of the car. “Finn, if I haven’t come out to Matt or Chris yet I would not be so stern on getting you to meet them. Now come on, don’t be a baby. They won’t bite.” 

As Nick lets himself out of the car, Finn huffs and shuts his eyes, both his hands coming up to rub them. At the sound of the passenger door opening, he makes a small gap between his pointer and middle finger to see Nick peeking his head inside the car, a small smile evident on his lips. 

“Don’t make me drag you out of the car by your ankles.” Nick states, his innocent expression clashing with the threat falling from his lips before he shuts the door again. 

“God, spare me.” Finn mumbles, both his hands slapping down on his thighs before he turns his car off. After grabbing his phone out of the cup holder, he opens his door and steps outside, the light wind nipping at the tip of his nose as he stands upright. The male slowly makes his way around the car and stops by Nick who’s looking at him endearingly. 

“You look absolutely miserable.” Nick teases, a small giggle escaping his lips. He wraps a comforting arm around Finn’s waist and pulls him closer to him. At the sight of the taller pouting, the red-head shakes his head and brings a hand up to his boyfriend’s face to bring it closer to him. He lands a quick peck on Finn’s lips and pulls away seconds later, his smile growing when he leans away due to the taller chasing his lips. 

“Another one please?” Finn asks, his body turning fully to properly face Nick. 

“Nope, not until after you meet Matt and Chris. Come on now.” Nick replies. He quickly takes Finn’s hand in his and pulls the male towards the front door. He digs inside his pocket for a moment before he pulls the house key out and sticks it in the lock. After unlocking the door, the red-head pushes the door open and pulls Finn inside. “I apologize in advance if there’s a mess. Chris tends to get even messier when I’m gone.” 

As Nick guides Finn up the steps, he gently rubs the male’s knuckles with the pad of his thumb in hopes of somewhat grounding him. He had no idea why the boy was so nervous. He would understand if he was this anxious about meeting his parents but since it was just a small meeting with Matt and Chris, Nick found his boyfriend’s anxiousness a little confusing. He wasn’t judging at all but rather he found the whole situation a little funny in the least meanest way possible. 

“Matt, Chris. Get y’all’s asses down here.” Nick calls, his loud voice booming in the large space as he enters the kitchen with Finn right behind him. “You want anything to drink?” Nick momentarily releases his hand from Finn’s to open the fridge, his eyes quickly scanning the contents inside before he looks up at the male. 

“You have lemonade?” Finn asks, his tall frame walking a few steps back to rest against the countertop. Nick gently nods his head and digs in the fridge for a moment to grab a can of lemonade and tea. Finn lands a small peck on the red-heads cheek when he hands him his beverage as a small thank you before twisting the cap open. When he goes to lift the can up to his lips, the faint sound of a door opening causes him to momentarily halt his actions. 

“They’re so fucking slow.” Nick grumbles, his head shaking in disapproval as he takes a quick sip from the beverage in his hand. 

“Calm the hell down, we’re right here.” Chris says as he makes an appearance in the kitchen after emerging from downstairs. Matt follows close behind him, a pair of headphones resting on his head and his phone in his left hand. The moment Chris lifts his head up, he halts the second he sees Finn standing a few steps in front of him. 

Matt, who wasn’t paying attention, bumps into the younger with a small oof, his slightly shorter frame stumbling back slightly at the unexpected collision. The male quickly picks his head up, his right hand coming up to his head to slip his headphones off and set them around his neck before he walks up next to Chris. 

“Why the fuck did you stop?” Matt asks, his head shaking slightly before he looks forwards. “Oh shit, hey.” He faintly nods his head in Finn’s direction to acknowledge his presence before walking up to him. “Finn right?” 

“Yeah.” Finn replies as he sets the beverage in his hand behind him on the counter. 

“Sweet, I’m Matt. Good to finally meet the guy that has Nick wrapped around his pinkie finger.” At the male’s statement, Nick leans forward and smacks the back of Matt’s head with an annoyed expression clear on his face. “Ow, what the fuck!” Matt frowns and rubs the area the older hit him, his eyes narrowing as he sends a glare to the red-head. “Did I lie?” 

“I brought him to have him meet y’all, not to have you guys rat me out.” Nick says through gritted teeth. Finn whips his head around to look down at Nick, a teasing smile immediately spreading on his lips at the sight of his boyfriend’s flustered appearance. 

“I have you wrapped around my pinkie finger?” Finn asks, cocking a single eyebrow as he crosses his arms against his chest. Nick doesn’t reply and sends a warning look to the male before he clears his throat and shifts his attention to Chris who is still standing a few steps away from them. 

“Why are you being weird? Get your ass over here.” Nick states as he walks towards the younger and pulls him towards Finn and Matt. 

“My bad.” Chris mumbles, his gaze shifting from Nick to Finn who’s still leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. Nick releases his hold from Chris and walks back up to Finn, his eyes quickly moving between his boyfriend and Chris before he speaks up again. 

“Chris, meet Finn, my boyfriend. Finn, meet Chris, my annoying and dumb younger brother.” 

“Hey!” A ‘hurtful’ expression spreads across Chris’ face at the older’s statement. “You didn’t introduce Matt like that.” 

“Yeah, because he actually came up to Finn and started a small conversation. Your ass didn't, so I had to do it for you.” Chris rolls his eyes and steps closer to Finn, his eyes locking with the older’s when they look at each other. The younger scans the taller’s face for a moment, his eyes moving down to look at his outfit as he forces his lips into a straight line. 

“Finn?” Chris asks, his head tilting to the side after taking a few moments to fully take in the said male’s appearance. 

“Yeah? Finn replies, his voice slightly wavering as his anxiety spikes at the younger’s serious tone. 

“You’ve got to be one of the coolest mother fuckers I’ve ever met, I swear to God. Blue is definitely your color.” 

“Oh!” Finn’s anxiety washes away almost instantly as a huge smile appears on his lips. “Thanks, I really appreciate that.” 

“Of course. Now when did this whole thing happen?” Chris gestures between him and Nick with his index finger. 

“Uh…” Finn turns his head around to look down at Nick. “You wanna tell them?” 

“Yeah, I can.” Nick gently nods his head before looking towards Matt and Chris who are looking at the two intently. “We were baking some cookies and Finn decided to mess with me by throwing flour at my face. That ensured a small chase and food fight before he stopped and persuaded me into putting more flour on me. We started to stare at each other while he was doing so and Finn ended up initiating a kiss. Then after that we both gushed about our feelings for each other and agreed to getting together as long as we take things slow.” 

“Okay that’s gotta be the most cliché thing ever.” Matt says as he crosses his arms over his chest, his statement earning an eye roll from Nick. “But it’s cute I guess.” 

“Wish it was caught on video.” Chris chimes in, his shoulders raising for a moment before they slump back down.

“Yeah, alright. Like you’d willingly wanna see Finn and I suck face.” Nick rolls his eyes as he picks his can of tea back up from the counter.

“We did not suck face!” Finn exclaims, his jaw dropping as he looks over at the red-head who takes a sip of his beverage. 

“YALL SUCKED FACE??” Chris practically screams, his voice cracking slightly as his eyes widen in shock and horror. 

“What happened to taking it slow? Holy shit..” Matt mumbles, his hands raising up to rub his face. 

“For the love of God, we did not suck face. It was just a kiss. I was exaggerating” Nick clarifies. He rolls his eyes again when Matt and Chris rest a hand on their chests, a sigh of relief leaving both of their lips. 

“Oh, I have a question.” Chris states, his demeanor changing as he narrows his eyes at Finn and Nick. 

“What’s up?” Finn asks, his head tilting to the side slightly as he momentarily locks eyes with the younger male. 

“If y'all had a sleepover, did you guys share a bed?” As Chris wiggles his eyebrows in a teasing manner, both Finn and Nick’s faces flush, their minds immediately going in the gutter. 

“Okay, we did sleep in the same bed but we didn’t do anything dirty.” Nick says, his head falling as the blush on his cheeks deepen a few shades. 

“What did yall do then?” 

“We just showed each other our tattoos and my ass fell asleep.” 

“You have tats?” Matt asks, his pointer finger raising to point at Finn. 

“Yeah, I have a full sleeve and have more on my legs, collarbone, and v-line.” Finn replies, a small smile tugging on the corners of his lips. 

“Can I see? I’m dying to know what they look like now.” 

“Yeah, of course! I’ll only be able to show you my sleeve though.”

“That is perfectly fine by me.” As Finn rolls his sleeve up, Matt and Chris both walk closer to the male. When the Finn sticks his arm out, both boy’s mouths open slightly as they take in the numerous designs littered on the taller’s skin. 

“Dude, these are sick.” Chris gushes. 

“Thanks. Took a lot of time to get them all done.” Finn smiles, tilting his arm slightly to allow the two brothers to get a better view of his full sleeve. 

“I can imagine.” Matt mumbles. 

“Do any of you guys have tats? I know Nick does.” 

“He does, I don’t.” Chris juts his pointer finger towards Matt before he excuses himself to go to the fridge. 

Finn’s mouth shapes into a small oval as he looks up at Matt at the younger’s statement. “May I see?” The male asks, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he pulls his sleeve back down. 

“Of course.” Matt replies with a small nod as he also rolls up his sleeve. As the two boys start some small talk about tattoos, Chris and Nick start a small conversation on the opposite side of the kitchen. 

“So.” Chris starts, his gaze staying fixed on the can of Pepsi in his hand as he opens it with his pointer finger.

“So what?” Nick asks, a single eyebrow raising as he adverts his focus from his phone to glance up at the younger. 

“Finn seems like a good kid. I’m glad you finally found someone that makes you happy. I’ve never seen you this happy with someone before and it’s a little cute to see. You know, in the least weirdest way possible. Just don’t let him hurt you. I will pull up at his place and beat his ass.” Nick rolls his eyes, a small smile creeping onto his lips as Chris takes a sip from his Pepsi. 

“You’ve been giving me a lot of mixed signals about him, you know.” Nick stuffs his phone in his pocket to lean against the table in the middle of the kitchen and cross his arms over his chest. 

Chris lifts an eyebrow as he sends the red-head a confused expression. “Really?” 

“Really. Annoying as well but you’ve been up my ass about him lately. That’s why I didn’t really wanna tell you what was going on about us when shit was actually happening.”

“Well, I'm just worried. I really don’t wanna see you getting hurt and crying over some guy because he broke your heart. I know you’ve a very strong guy and are capable of taking care of yourself but I can’t help but look after you, you know. All I want is the best for you.” 

Nick forces his lips into a straight line as he allows his gaze to fall down to his shoes. “I hate where you’re all sappy and shit.” A small laugh escapes Chris’ lips before he shuffles towards the red-head and stops in front of him. He sets the can of Pepsi down on the table next to him before wrapping his arms around the male, bringing him into a warm embrace. Nick happily hugs the brunette back before they both pull back moments later, a small smile toying on both of their lips. 

“So about y’all sucking face, did anything else go down that I should know about?” Chris asks, a teasing smile clear on his lips as he reaches for his Pepsi again and brings the can up to his lips. Nick’s smile falls and he immediately rolls his eyes, a soft shade of blush coating over his cheeks as he stares daggers at the male in front of him. 

“You ruined it.” Nick mumbles, his head turning to avoid the younger’s gaze. Chris laughs loudly and grabs onto the red-head’s shoulder with his free hand to steady himself as he doubles over in laughter. 

“What’s so funny?” Finn asks as he and Matt walk up to the two. 

“Nothing. Chris is just being an annoying prick as per usual.” Nick replies, his gaze softening as he locks eyes with his boyfriend. 

“Hey! No I’m not!” Chris defends, a few giggles escaping his lips as he wipes away a fake tear from underneath his eye. “I’m just teasing him.” 

“About what? Finn?” Matt asks, gaining the said male’s attention as he whips his head in his direction. 

“Yeah. I asked if they did anything else after they sucked face. You know, because Nick said they did. Considering how flustered he got, I think they did do something.” Chris replies with a smile as he looks back towards Nick. 

Finn’s face flushes as he looks down at his boyfriend, a smile tugging at his lips as he looks at his flustered face. He gently sets his thumb and pointer finger on both sides of his face and squishes his cheeks a few times, earning a small noise of discomfort from the male as he softly smacks his hand away. 

“Nicolas Antonio Sturniolo!” Matt exclaims, a small laugh escaping him. 

“We didn’t do anything, promise. The most we did was kiss a few times and sleep in the same bed. And not like that! We’re taking things slow, remember?” Finn replies, earning a small head nod from Nick. 

“Yeah, we were not having sex. Get y’all’s heads out of the gutter.” Nick mumbles, his arms crossing over his chest as he lets out a soft huff. 

“Yet.” Chris mutters as he takes another sip from his Pepsi. Nick quickly reaches forward and smacks the younger’s arm that’s holding the said beverage. When the can of Pepsi falls from Chris’ hand and clatters on the floor rather loudly, the younger gasps dramatically and watches with wide eyes as the dark liquid puddles out of the can. As the male slowly lifts his head up, he locks eyes with Nick who has a shocked expression on his face. 

“I swear I did not mean to do that. It was an accident, I swear.” Nick sputters, taking a few steps back and stumbling into Finn as Chris seemingly stares daggers into his soul. 

“I’m giving you three seconds to run before I beat your ass.” Chris said, his voice low as he bends down to set the fallen can back up. The moment the younger starts counting, Nick runs off and makes a break for his bedroom upstairs. Chris doesn't wait to get to three before he runs after the male, leaving Finn and Matt standing in the kitchen, stunned and bewildered. 

“Should I be concerned?” Finn slowly asks as he points a single finger towards the staircase leading to the upstairs. 

“Probably.” Matt replies, his voice monotone as he walks over to the sink to grab a few cleaning supplies from the cabinet. 

“I’ll be back then.” Matt gently nods his head as Finn excuses himself to go upstairs. The moment he arrives at Nick’s bedroom door, the sound of shouting runs through his ears. 

And laughter?..

Finn hesitantly sets his hand on the door knob and lets himself inside the bedroom, his eyes immediately landing on Chris who has Nick trapped in the corner of his room, both his hands landing rapid and swift pokes on the older’s torso. A string of soft giggles are being drawn from the red-head as he slides down the wall and attempts to shove the younger’s hands away from him. 

“CHRIS!” Nick yells, giggles bubbling up his throat as he shuts his eyes tightly. “I’m gonna fucking rip your hands off your body and feed them to our neighbors dogs if you don’t stop fucking touching me.” 

“Oh please, you’re all bark no bite.” Chris says, a soft chuckling escaping his lips when Nick plops onto the floor and slides down onto his back. 

“Is everything okay in here?” Finn asks as he leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed. Chris immediately stops his actions and turns around to look back at the male, allowing Nick to catch his breath and wrap his arms around his torso tightly. 

“Yup, perfectly fine.” Chris replies, taking a quick glance at Nick who is heavily panting before looking back at Finn. “How long have you been standing there?” 

“Not long.” Finn gently shuts the door behind him and walks towards Nick’s bed and takes a seat on the mattress, his frame slightly bouncing when he sits down. “So Nick’s all bark and no bite, huh?” 

“He’s lying, don't listen to him. I would not hesitate to punch someone.” Nick says through heavy breaths. 

“Depends on the situation.” Chris adds as he walks away from the red-head and makes his way to the door. 

“You walking away after you got caught? Fucking pussy.” When Nick pushes himself up and leans against the wall, his eyes widen slightly when he sees Chris narrowing his eyes at him. 

“I don’t wanna embarrass you in front of your boyfriend so I’m sparing you. I suggest you zip your mouth before I come over there and rock your shit.” Nick puts his arms up defensively when Chris points a warning finger at him.

The moment the younger leaves the room and heads back downstairs, Finn gets up from his spot on Nick’s bed and makes his way over to him. He brings out a hand to the male, which he happily takes, and hauls him up to his feet. 

“You good?” Finn asks, a small laugh escaping his lips as he sets a hand on Nick’s head and fluffles his mop of red hair. 

Nick shakes his head softly to get the taller to stop before looking up at him, his chest still slightly heaving. “Yeah.” Nick replies softly, a small smile overtaking his lips. Both boys stare at each other for a moment before Finn gently grabs Nick’s chin and pulls him in for a soft and quick kiss. When he pulls back, he lands a small peck on his forehead and sends the younger a warm smile. 

“You’re so cute.” Finn gushes, his voice low and soft as he snakes his arms around the red-head’s waist and pulls him against him. 

“Yeah, yeah. You are too.” Nick mumbles, a soft coat of blush dusting over his cheeks as he sets his head against the taller’s chest, the faint scent of vanilla filling his senses the moment he softly inhales. 

Finn smiles softly and rests his chin on the top of Nick’s head, a single hand beginning to form small circles on the other’s back. “Ima have to go, Nick. I don’t wanna be late to my shoot.” 

“No.” At the sound of the red-head whining softly, Finn chuckles and pulls back from the hug. He takes Nick’s chin between his pointer finger and thumb to tilt his head up to have him look him in the eyes, a small giggle escaping him at the sight of younger pouting. 

“I’ll ask Kim if I can start taking you with me but as of right now, ima have to go.” 

“We’re hanging out tomorrow, right?” 

“Of course, I already told you yes.” 

“Okay good. I don't think I’d be able to live if I don’t see your ass.” 

“Okay..” Finn laughs softly when Nick sends him an innocent smile. 

“May I walk you out then?” 

“Sure.” Nick immediately takes Finn’s hand in his and pulls him out of his room and downstairs. 

“Oh, are y'all leaving?” Matt asks, his head lifting when he hears the two male’s step off the staircase and enter the kitchen. 

“Just Finn. He has a shoot to go to.” Nick replies, taking a quick glance back at the male behind him. 

“Have a good shoot Mr. Finn. We’ll see you later?” Chris asks as he takes another can of Pepsi from the fridge. 

“Definitely. It was great meeting you guys.” Finn replies with a smile as he waves goodbye to the two males standing in the kitchen. 

“You too! See ya, Finn. Be safe kiddo.” Matt calls, sending a small wave back to the male as he walks to the living room. After bidding Matt and Chris farewell, Nick pulls Finn downstairs and out the door. The moment the two step outside and take in the warm air, the red-head stops walking and turns around to look back at the male behind him. 

“Thanks for coming over and meeting those two. I told you it wasn’t that bad.” Nick says, a small smile toying at his lips as he locks eyes with the taller.

“Of course. Anything for you.” Finn replies, bending down to land a quick kiss on Nick’s lips. He pulls back and giggles softly at the sight of the smaller frowning.

“One more before you go. Please?” 

“Hmm… let me think about it.” Finn sets his pointer finger on his chin and looks off into the distance. Nick rolls his eyes at the sight and grabs the taller’s face and pulls him in, capturing his lips for another kiss. Finn finds himself smiling against Nick’s lips at the boy's eagerness and slips an arm around the red-head’s waist, his free hand making its way up to the male’s face to gently caress his cheek.

Nick on the other hand wraps both his arms around Finn’s neck, pulling him in closer and playing with the hair on the back of his neck. After a few more moments, both boys pull away, soft pants escaping their lips as they catch their breaths. 

“Eager now are we?” Finn teases with a smile as he slowly opens his eyes. 

“Shut it.” Nick mumbles as he also opens his eyes and takes in the taller’s teasing smile. The two stare at each other for a few seconds before Finn breaks eye contact by looking down and digging his hand into the pocket of his cargos. 

“I’ll text you the second the shoot is over. We can even call afterwards if you’d like.” Finn says, glancing over at his car before looking back at Nick. The red-head gently nods and takes the taller’s hand in his, the pad of his thumb brushing over his knuckles. “I’ll see you later, okay?” 

“Okay. Also, I’m so down for a call. Be safe while heading over there please. And send me photos if they do your makeup!” 

Finn softly laughs at the boy's request. “Of course, anything for you.” The taller lands a soft kiss on Nick’s cheek before saying a soft goodbye to the male and making his way towards his car. As the male gets in his car, Nick takes a few steps back to lean against the door, his gaze staying fixed onto Finn’s frame in the driver’s seat. After staring the engine and backing out of the driveway, Finn comes to a slow stop and rolls down the passenger window. 

He bends his head down slightly so Nick could see him better before he waves at the boy. Nick smiles widely and immediately waves back. Finn returns his smile with a smile of his own before he rolls the window back up and drives down the street. The moment his car is out of sight, Nick lets himself back in his house and heads upstairs, a large smile clear on his lips as he keeps his gaze fixed on his shoes.

“God, look at you.” Chris says, his head shaking slightly the moment he takes in Nick’s state when he arrives upstairs. 

“What are you talking about?” Nick asks, his head lifting and quickly turning to look over at the younger male who’s sitting on the sofa in the living room. 

“You have a stupid smile on your face. I believe you're whipped, Nick.” Matt chimes in as he rests his head on the palm of his hand.

“Yeah, alright.” Nick mumbles, his face flushing as he makes his way to the sofa and takes a seat in the corner. As he reaches over to grab a blanket and drape it over his legs, Matt and Chris share a look before they both shake their heads. Comforting silence fills the room as the three boys busy themselves with their cell phones, the only sound filling their ears being the soft talking coming from the television playing on the wall in front of them. 

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· TagList ·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

@freshloveforthefit @nickuniversity @patscorner

comment to be added to the taglist and click here to know more abt it!

#nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #azul talks ✮ #nick x reader #nick sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo fluff

[onlyhereforthestories]

My Three Girls (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

So I finally wrote something! Hope you all enjoy and thank you for sticking with me, Chica soon

You only had a few days, last night you and your team had won your quarter final game in the euro’s against Sweden 4 nil. You were lucky enough to be allowed back to Spain to see your girlfriend for only the second time since she tore her ACL 2 days before the start of this tournament. You were currently running around your room trying to sort a few clothes before you were dropped to the airport by one of the staff members.

Beth your roommate was lounging on her bed videoing you, “You’re literally going home y/n what could you possibly need to take with you for 2 days.” You didn’t even give the woman a second of your time, you had just put the final pair of socks in your rucksack when your phone rung.

Alba’s face popping up causing you to roll your eyes before even answering. “Alba I’m literally about to leave what do you want?”

“Wow that’s no way to talk to your future sister in law, I was just phoning to make sure you brought the surprise back. Alexia is hiding it well, but she is sad and mum is saying we should focus on Ale so doesn’t want to do anything for her birthday.” Even the teasing at the start of her speech sounded sad, you knew the small family was dealing with it as best as they could but from this you could tell even more that they were starting to struggle.

“I’ve got it all. And don’t worry about Eli, we will celebrate her. Neither of them knows I’m coming right? You swore you wouldn’t say anything no matter what.” With the promise from Alba that she hadn’t told them you sad your goodbyes and told her you’d give her a call once you landed.

With one final check through your bag and a nod to Beth you were on your way to the airport. You would never be able to thank Sarina enough for this.

Landing in Spain just felt right, you had been here for the best part of 8 years now and although England was where you were from and where you grew up, Spain was now home. Walking straight out the front doors you saw Alba leaning against her car. “Hola hermana, did either of them ask why you were leaving?” You leant in for a hug as you checked with the younger woman.

“No I said I was popping out for some groceries to cook mum dinner, so they don’t suspect a thing.” You were so glad and the smile you sent the brunette was all the proof she needed.

On the drive back to Eli’s house you stopped off to grab both Alexia and Eli some flowers, something that you frequently did when you were home with them all during Barcelona’s season. You were strangely nervous, you know your team had knocked Spain out of the tournament and although you had spoken to Alexia about it since and she seemed fine there was still part of you that wasn’t so sure how they would reach.

By the time you had processed those thoughts Alba was pulling up outside the house that held the love of your life and her mother, both of which you hadn’t seen properly in over a month. “Are you ready?” it was Alba’s voice standing at your now opened passenger door that brought you back to the present.

“As ready as i'll ever be.” You got out the car, a bunch of flowers in each hand and followed behind Alba as she walked into the house.

“Alba? What in God’s name took you so long?” just hearing Eli’s motherly tone brought a tear to your eye, these people where your family. They took you in when you had no one and have loved you as their own since the day Alexia introduced you as her girlfriend.

“Traffic mama.” You could feel the eye roll from Alba.

“Its 7 in the evening there wouldn’t be traffic at this” Eli stopped what she was saying as soon as her eyes found your form just behind her youngest daughter. “Oh my come here you beautiful human, I can’t believe you are really here. I’m so proud of you.” You couldn’t stop the tears falling if you tried.

“Hola mama, I missed you a lot.” Nothing more could pass your lips as you were brought into a tight hug. Over the older woman’s shoulder you caught sight of the woman you had been dreaming of for the last 8 years but especially over the last month. Sending her a wink you soaked up the motherly love for a few more seconds before Alexia made her annoyance at the length of time you were hugging known.

“Alright mama I think I would like to finally hug my girlfriend now and seeing as my crutches are not close by your going to have to let her go so she can come to me.” The pout could be heard, neither you nor Eli needed to look at the brown he=aired beauty to know it was full force on her face.

Eli pulled back but held you at arm’s length, giving you the once over as if to check you were really there before taking the flowers you held out for her and sending you in your girlfriends’ direction with a pat on the cheek.

As you reached the injured woman you couldn’t help the piercing smile that broke out on your face, she would always be the person you wanted to evoke this type of reaction from yourself. “Hola babe I’ve missed you so much. Everything I have done on that pitch has been for you, I hope you know that.”

“I’m so proud of you hermosa.” Nothing more needed to be said between the two of you, you leant down and placed the most gentle, loving kiss on her lips, not missing the slight intake of breath that happened when your lips finally brushed for the first time in over a month. After a few moments of small pecks, both of you very conscious of prying eyes, you pulled back and rested your head on the other woman’s.

“Right I’m only here for the tomorrow so I got Alba to book Eli’s favourite restaurant for the four of us, and before you even try to argue Eli its your birthday and we are going to celebrate the most amazing mum we all know.” It wasn’t a secret that Eli was the best mother figure you had ever had, growing up in care did that to a girl. “For now though is it okay if we all chill for the night, I would like to watch and see who I have to beat for this one in a final on Sunday.”

With a smirk from the woman you were still holding onto, a hell yeah from the best mother you could ask to be pretty much adopted by and a profanity from the little sister you always wished you’d have, you settled in for a night full of catching up and love you didn’t know you needed.

Last night you found out you would face Germany in the final, something you were more nervous than you’d ever let anyone know of, but tonight, tonight was nothing to do with football. Tonight, was about celebrating the woman that made your life easier to live almost as much as Alexia did. Eli was sat next to Alba whilst you all ate, it was the first time Alexia had left the house for anything other than doctor’s appointments or physiotherapy and you could see the weight lifting off her shoulders as you all laughed and chatted the night away.

After a lovely meal you knew the cake was coming out, so did Alexia and Alba as you had all decided on the cake, she would have ahead of time, so the kitchen knew to put the 51 candles in it. As you sang happy birthday and the two sisters filmed or pictured their mum you subtly reached into your pocket for the final surprise of the night.

“You girls are the best, thank you for making this day so special for me. I don’t know what I did to deserve 3 of the most amazing daughters.” You weren’t expecting that at all, the tears that threatened to spill over almost stopped you from doing what you had planned. but in actual fact the words the woman said gave you that final piece of confidence you needed to know this was exactly what you were supposed to do.

“I have one more thing I would like to do tonight if that’s okay Eli?” you knew the woman had no idea what you were on about, but it was her birthday, so you wanted to check with her before you made it about yourself.

“Of course, carino, without you this might not have been possible.” You sent her a wink and a smile od gratification before you took a deep breath.

“8 years ago, when I first signed for Barca I was a lost 18 year old who had no place in this world, I had bounced around homes all my life never belonging anywhere apart from on a football pitch. Then I got an offer, an offer I never thought was possible, but I took the leap and came here. I never knew at the time but that would be the best decision I would ever make. That decision has given me the family I thought I would only ever dream of; in fact, I couldn’t have dreamed of you guys if I tried because you are beyond a dream. Alba you are the craziest, funniest, happiest little sister I could have ever thought of having in my life and I’m so grateful for your constant jabs and advice.  Eli, you have made me feel like I am part of your family from the moment Ale introduced me and for a girl that has never had a parent I don’t think I will ever be able to thank you enough but I’m going to try. I’m going to try the only way I know how. By looking after your daughter for the rest of my life.” You paused to catch your breath and you could see on Eli’s face she knew where this was going because she had a single happy tear rolling down her cheek.

“Alexia, you came into my life when I thought I wasn’t worthy of being known. You made me see that not only was I a good footballer, but I was a good human as well. You showed me that there was more to life than just a ball and a pitch, and you gave me something to play for. You are the first thing I think about when I wake up and you are my final thought before I fall asleep, and I want it to be that way for the rest of my life. So, Alexia Putellas Segura, will you make my life complete right now and marry me?”

You opened the ring box you held in your shacking hand and waited for the woman you loved more than football to answer you.

“Si of course. There is no other answer but yes.” You didn’t even get a chance to put the ring on her finger because the both of you were pulled into a 4-way hug by the other two occupants of the table.

“Now this, this is the best birthday present a mother could ask for. The chance for her family to all be officially one. My three girls.”

#alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso imagines

[explicitred]

The Bough Keeper

Dainsleif x Male Reader

yandere??? I don't know

is this considered yandere??

(you can also read as gender-neutral or female, I don't put specifics pronouns. but even if I do add pronouns, you can replace the words with your own.)

note: HIIIIIIIIIII it's been so long since I've last written (I last wrote and posted 4 months ago)

For some reason, I got a boost of motivation after checking Tumblr and seeing that I last posted months ago (plus doing the Caribert archon quest today, after delaying for months)

I didn't write dialogue for Dainsleif since I don't know how to write him, but I hope this fanfic lightens your mood anyway

also there's no plot lol, I just randomly thought of this and went along with whatever I wrote

Dainsleif's eyes drifted toward the door, checking for if you were back for what seemed like the fiftieth time.

The Bough Keeper didn't even touch his alcoholic drink, not even once; after hearing that you had to leave again.

Finally, he sighed and took a sip of his drink.

He sat in a wooden chair, faced towards the door of a cottage-like house in the forest. Really, how did you even find this house?

Dainsleif would sometimes rush into the cottage house in the past, heart beating wildly, unsure of what to due to calm himself down after talking to you.

Though his heart yearned for you, he would always turn too shy and hide his face behind his cape. However, it would be wise not to underestimate the lengths and things he would do to appease you, or to have even an ounce of your attention on him.

After all, your presence and attention felt euphoric and heavenly, cleansing his sins.

The sun may burn brightly, but his love for you rivaled even the gods' strength. Oh, how he would do the most unspeakable acts just to gain a single praise from you.

Click

The door opened.

Ah, you were back.

Dainsleif's breath hitched, as his eyes immediately looked down at his drink. His throat lurched, as you moved nearer to him.

You entangle your fingers through his soft blonde locks, and Dainsleif suddenly feels dizzy from the warmth spreading in his chest.

Dainsleif leans closer toward your touch but scoots to make room for you on the same chair, making sure that your fingers can still reach him.

Your legs touch from the proximity, and Dainsleif could feel your arms slowly wrapping around his torso.

"Hmm, how long have you been waiting for me?"

Your voice rumbles beside his head, his head tucked in the crook of your neck.

Dainsleif cannot find himself able to answer from his muddled mind and state of bliss.

How cruel. How could you expect him to answer you properly when you're so close to him?

He felt he was practically on your lap, the tips of his ears turning even more pink; if that was possible.

Your hands rubbed soothing circles on his back, waiting in silence for an answer.

If he had to suffer, again and again, the horror of the cataclysm, he would gladly do it to receive your affection, no matter how minor.

Ah... Allowing him to stay by your side for eternity would be a great honor to him. A feat, even greater than the gods that Teyvat citizens praise each day.

#explicitred #genshin impact #genshin imagines #male reader #male insert #dainsleif #dainsleif x reader #dainsleif x you #dainsleif x y/n #dainsleif x male reader #genshin dainsleif #genshin x male reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin x gender neutral reader #yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere dainsleif #dainsleif genshin impact #genshin impact x you #genshin impact yandere #gi fanfiction #gi dainsleif #bough keeper #genshin fanfic #genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact x reader #fanfic x reader

[elliseleven]

So, I wrote this Patcap fic a while back (I've written *a lot* of Capvers since I started watching Ghosts so I thought it'd be good to change it up).

But I honestly don't think I'll properly finish it as it's been sitting in my Google docs for a while so I thought I could post it here.

It's a few scenes that are kind of stop-start rather than having proper transitions. I also haven't really beta read it so it's not my best but hope you enjoy anyway!

*******

Pat had planned this perfectly. 2001: A Space Odyssey had something for everyone. Despite that, there was one person who didn’t seem to be enjoying himself.

The Captain was watching the TV screen. However, he didn’t seem to be paying attention at all. 

After the film was over, Pat watched the Captain leave. He wondered what was wrong. Did he not like the film?

Pat decided to follow the Captain. He found himself outside the Captain’s room. Suddenly, he felt nervous. The Captain didn’t like his privacy to be invaded, but Pat didn’t want him to feel sad either.

The door was ajar, so Pat peeked his head round.

“Knock knock.”

The Captain jumped. He was sitting on the edge of his bed.

“What is it, Pat?” He tried to keep his voice level, but Pat could tell something was wrong.

“You alright, Cap? Did you not enjoy the film?”

“No, I did. It was wonderful. I’m just… tired. A lot happened today.”

Pat nodded. “Yeah, it was full on. Not anything we’re not used to though, eh?”

The Captain chuckled. “Quite right. I’d just… like to be left alone.”

Pat hesitated. It was clear that something was troubling the Captain, but he had never been one to open up easily. Maybe it was best to leave it alone. 

“Course,” he finally said.

He made to leave but turned back. He smiled to the Captain. “If there’s anything on your mind, you can talk to us, you know. Well…” he hesitated. “Some of us, at least.”

The Captain only nodded. He knew this to be a fact, of course, but he doubted he would take Pat up on that offer.

Pat nodded in return, leaving the Captain in peace.

Once he was sure Pat had left, the Captain let out a sigh. Perhaps it would do some good to talk about… what was troubling him. He had kept his secret for so long, but perhaps it was time for it to come to light.

*******

“Take your time, Cap.”

The Captain felt as if he was on the verge of a panic attack. He had never said this aloud before. However, Pat’s gentle gaze and hand on his shoulder helped him calm down.

“Where to start…” He mused. “Do you remember that day when Alison and Mike were digging up the garden?”

“Yes, definitely,” Pat sighed. “God knows how I managed to take charge of those lot.”

“You did a terrific job.”

Pat was taken aback. It was rare that the Captain gave compliments, especially to him. “Well, thanks, Cap. I try.”

“Yes, well…” He cleared his throat. “That day reminded me of my… past. Someone from my past, to be specific.”

“Right,” Pat nodded. “Was it someone from the army?”

The Captain very slowly began to tell Pat about his lieutenant and how close they had grown. How he had fallen in love…

Pat nodded along, not surprised in the slightest.

“That makes sense. A lot of sense, actually.” Pat said once the Captain had finished.

The Captain almost gave himself whiplash, turning to face Pat. “What do you mean by that?!”

Pat laughed. “Well, I mean, even a blind man would be able to see that you’re… a homosexual.”

When the Captain continued to stare, gobsmacked, Pat explained further. He hadn’t noticed every little thing, but the things he had noticed were blindingly obvious. 

The way he looked at attractive men: Adam the director, Toby Nightingale, Mike, that naked man from the party. 

“I didn’t think I was being so obvious,” the Captain muttered, unable to look Pat in the eye.

“I guess it’s not to everyone, but I noticed…”

If the Captain had been less nervous, he would have noticed Pat blushing.

“Right,” the Captain cleared his throat. “As long as you don’t tell the others.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it!” Pat patted the Captain gently on his shoulder. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Pat stood up, and the Captain suddenly felt cold.

“I’ll leave you to it then.”

*******

“Hey, Cap?”

The Captain stopped walking and turned to face Pat.

“Yes?”

The way the Captain looked at him made him weak at the knees, but he stood strong. “I just wanted to have a chat, if that’s okay?”

The Captain nodded cautiously. He wondered, and partly worried, about what Pat wanted to tell him.

Pat looked behind him to check they were alone. “I… Um… Wow, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this nervous.”

The Captain frowned. “You don’t need to be nervous around me, Patrick.”

Pat laughed. If only the Captain knew the irony in what he was saying. “How do I say this?”

Pat was stalling because he was nervous, of course, but there was another reason. 

He remembered how the Captain talked about Havers. The Captain had never been good at expressing his feelings, but it was clear how in love he had been. What if he still was? Pat wasn’t sure how he would take that.

Meanwhile, the Captain’s heart was racing. Pat rarely got nervous talking about what was on his mind. This must be important. What if…? No, the Captain berated himself. He had a wife, for goodness sake! He couldn’t be…

“I like you, Cap.”

The Captain narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Well, I would hope so, wouldn’t you?”

“No, Cap,” Pat said, even more serious now. “I like you. Not just as a friend.”

Finally, the penny dropped. The Captain stared.

Pat waited, but the Captain didn’t speak. He didn’t even move.

“Hello? Anyone home?” He clicked his fingers in front of the Captain’s face.

The Captain blinked and slowly found his voice. “S- Sorry, Pat. I just… didn’t expect you to say that. At all.”

“It’s okay,” Pat chuckled. “It came as a bit of a shock to me too. Nothing to do with you!” He added hastily before the Captain could jump to any conclusions. “I just always thought I liked women. Still do, of course, but I like men too? Not quite sure when that happened, if I’m honest.”

Pat continued to ramble, and the Captain smiled. The sense of relief that washed over him was immeasurable. He wouldn’t have guessed that Pat liked him, or was even like him at all.

“-always confused me when I watched films and found both the man and the woman attractive.”

The rambling was getting a little too much now for the Captain. “Pat.”

“I could never tell Carol though-”

“Pat!”

Pat suddenly stopped, looking up at the Captain. “Sorry. Was I talking too much?”

The Captain hesitated before realising he could be honest with him. “Yes. Just a bit.”

“Sorry…” he muttered. “It’s just the first time I’ve talked about this.”

The Captain nodded. “I understand. Do you feel better?”

“Yeah, I actually do, actually. How about you give it a try?”

The Captain hummed. “No, thank you.”

Pat nodded. “That’s fine.”

The two of them fell silent until Pat remembered something. “Hey, Cap? Before I told you this, I didn’t know how you would react.” 

Now that he was speaking out loud, he realised the Captain hadn’t actually said much of anything. 

“Why do you say that?”

*******

So it ends there but Pat's answer was going to be that he knew that Cap was still in love with Havers and he wasn't sure if Cap was ready to love anyone else. Cap ends up telling Pat that he will always love Havers but that doesn't mean he doesn't have the capability to love someone else ❤️

#bbc ghosts #the captain #pat butcher #patcap #my fanfic

[teen6ge]

a nonsense christmas; kmg.

pairing: female!reader x bf!gyu

plot: mingyu has had it with his christmas costume... until he sees yours.

genre: fluff!!!!! a bit comedy too.

word count: 800

warnings: mentions of sexy word play(?) idk how to describe it, but anyway.

a/n: english is not my first english, so forgive me for the errors (also maybe try to disregard it idk sksmdm); i wrote this down while listening to sabrina carpenter's song that is also the title (*^‧^*) it's been quite a while since i posted something here and i do have a scenario to actually write down but i couldn't come up with anything good... anyway, if y'all want a part two or something like this with any other member, lmk! also, i do accept requests and such, so feel free! anyway, here we go. hope you enjoy it <3

"remind me why did i let you convince me into this again?" you laughed slightly at mingyu's whining while fixing his santa's clothes. you can't deny he did look good.

"i told you not to bet on soccer games with my dad, didn't i? i'm his lucky charm and he's always right." once you finished, you take a few steps back so you can look at him better.

crossing his arms and frowning, he asks "so... you're telling me my own girlfriend was the reason i lost the bet?!" as you smile and nod in agreement, he lets out a grunt in betrayal "i can't believe this!" you get closer to him again, hugging his waist while peppering kisses on his face, still not covered with the fake white beard.

"c'mon, baby... you're santa, not the grinch... let's go, my little cousins are going to freak out! oh and don't forget the beard."

the christmas party at your parents house was always a huge event. ever since you were little, your house would be filled with your family and your parents' friends. that was actually how you met mingyu and his parents. you were 6 and he was 8 at the time and you both would go play with other kids around the house. you always had a crush on him, but he only found out when you were graduating high school.

actually, his graduation gift for you was a kiss when he finally got you alone. and, without realising it, he was also your first kiss. ever since then, you started going out and, soon enough, you were dating. you are together for 5 years now and you've never been happier.

thinking about all those years, all those memories makes your heart flutter, and you can't believe how lucky you are to have met your soulmate ever since you were little. looking at him now, watching as he attentively listens to your little cousin asks for her christmas gift. she's sitting on his lap, his eyes focusing on her while he forces a different voice to talk to her so she doesn't know he is mingyu.

you excuse yourself while you run to the pool house, where you and mingyu are going to sleep tonight, and you close the curtains so nobody could look at what you are going to do. mingyu doesn't have to suffer alone with a christmas costume.

the second mingyu closes the door to the pool house, he lets his body rest against it while closing his eyes and removing the stupid hot fake beard and beanie, throwing it to the side. he sighs heavily, voice tired as he speaks. "baby, i swear to god i'll never ever bet with your dad again. you're absolutely right. fuck, this costume is horrible."

with no answer to his complaint, mingyu opens his eyes, frowning when he notices the room is completely dark and silent. he had seen you enter the pool house an hour ago, just assuming you were already too tired to continue partying. it's not like the party went on for too long, but he missed you a lot. but then... it's unusual for him to think that you'd sleep in the dark, he knows you too well that you can only rest properly if there's at least a lamp on.

taking a few steps towards the light switch, mingyu calls out your name, obviously not receiving an answer. the second his finger turn the lights on, the whole place lits up with fairy lights hanging from the ceiling. when mingyu looks at you, his jaw drops with how stunning and stupidly hot you look, which makes you smile satisfied.

you're wearing a mini red skirt with white fluffy edges that matches with your tank top and your santa beanie, along with thigh high black boots and gloves adorning your hands. there's also a string of the fairy lights around your body and a candy cane in your mouth while you're on your knees on the bed.

"surprise!" you say with little difficulty due to the candy. mingyu hasn't moved since he layed his eyes on you, afraid he will wake up at any moment now. you tilt your head a little to the side, candy falling from your lips so you could talk to him better. "gyu?"

it takes a few seconds for mingyu to recompose himself and finally close his mouth, now rubbing his face with both of his hands. oh, this is real he thinks to himself.

"baby, what... how... when did you...?" yep, you broke him. you laugh at his reaction, finally untangling yourself and standing up to walk towards him.

"well... isn't santa going to take care of his misses claus?" your hands pull him closer by his belt, smiling while biting your lip. now it's his turn to laugh.

"yeah... i've got a huge north pole and big snow balls for her as a christmas gift."

#seventeen #mingyu svt #mingyu fluff #mingyu scenarios #mingyu fanfic #svt fluff #svt christmas #christmas scenarios #svt scenarios #scenarios #kpop scenarios #kim mingyu fluff #kim mingyu scenario

[munson-blurbs]

omg i just read your story about reader being attacked by a fan and i cried so hard like no shit. i was thinking maybe you could do a part 2 where reader having the constant fear of being alone, but since she is in home rest (because of the incident) eddie gets her a black kitten to make sure she never truly alone and comforts her. it’s okay if you don’t want to write about it it’s just a request, love your writting btw🤍🤍🤍

Combining this with another Stalker Part II request!

"do you think you could write a part 2 to that last story you wrote where the reader visits the stalker in prison? idk, what she did was beyond horrible but i kind of feel bad for her since she's obviously mentally ill/unstable yk? and even if the reader isn't sympathetic at all (rightfully), it would still be kind of interesting to see a follow-up."

Warnings: language, nightmares, mental illness (pls note that mentally ill folks are more likely to be attacked than to attack others)

WC: 2k

--

You'd gotten home from the hospital a few weeks ago; "home" temporarily being the Hopper-Byers household, since the apartment you and Eddie shared was being treated as a crime scene. To be honest, you had no desire to ever step foot in that building again.

Joyce and Jim Hopper had been nothing less than accommodating, making sure you were eating properly and going for short walks to get fresh air.

"I'm tellin' ya, kiddo," Chief Hopper said to you once, "I can't begin to describe how relieved I was when you opened that door."

Eddie had been your rock through it all. He'd postponed the remainder of Corroded Coffin's tour to take care of you. At the very beginning, you'd needed a lot of help just getting around, still sore from the intense physical altercation with her. You're now at a point where you've built up some stamina, but the psychological damage is all-too prevalent.

You wake up screaming in the middle of the night, body drenched in sweat from thrashing. Eddie's right there next to you, risking a hit from your flailing limbs.

"It's okay, you're okay," he soothes you. "Baby, you're safe."

And once you realize where you are and the adrenaline wears off, the tears flow. Heaving sobs rattle your chest as Eddie holds you tight. You feel horrible waking him--and probably your gracious hosts, too--but they all remind you that it's not your fault. And when Joyce recommends a therapist for you, you gladly accept.

Finally, Eddie found a new apartment for you both. It was a little smaller than your last one, he explained, but it would work. You didn't care if it was a shoebox, as long as you never had to see your old place again.

"I have a special surprise for you," he says with a wink as he drives toward the building.

"Is it a milkshake from Benny's?" you ask giddily, bouncing up and down on the seat.

Eddie laughs. "Calm down, jumping bean," he places a ringed hand on your thigh. "No, it's not a milkshake from Benny's. It's even better."

You wrinkle your nose. "What could be better than that?"

"Shh," he smushes a finger over your lips, "you'll see!"

~

Your new apartment is on the fifth floor, and as soon as the elevator opens, you spot Jeff, Gareth, and Dustin standing outside your door.

"Hey, guys!" you call out excitedly from behind a box containing some of your clothes. "What are you doing here?"

"Welcoming you home," Dustin answers. "But, y'know, we didn't wanna jump out and scare you, so we decided to just wait out here." Jeff and Gareth nod in agreement.

Their thoughtfulness makes you beam; it's been a long time since you've smiled that genuinely. "Wow, you guys are the best!"

Eddie gently pushes you towards the door, placing the key in your palm. "Just wait until you get inside," he teases.

You raise an eyebrow and turn the key in the lock. You open the door to a fully-furnished apartment.

"Oh my God," you whisper breathlessly, and you start to cry. "Did...did you three do all this?"

Gareth steps forward. "Actually, there were four of us. Max is in the bedroom with the second part of your surprise."

You look up at Eddie incredulously. "Second part?" you question, and his response is just another signature grin.

The bedroom is also decorated and furnished, but that's not what Gareth was referring to. In Max's arms is a tiny black kitten.

She holds the cat out to you with a smile. "Eddie figured you two could take care of each other," she tells you. "She needs a good mama."

“Yeah,” Jeff chimes in, “Eddie knows how much you love to take care of strays.” Eddie elbows him in the ribs, which he receives with an oof.

You take the kitten from Max gingerly, and she mews and curls up on your chest. “She’s so cute and little,” you murmur, kissing the top of her fuzzy little head.

Eddie leans up against you, rubbing his forefinger against the cat’s side. “She still needs a name,” he tells you.

You think for a moment before coming up with the perfect idea. “How about Lovey?” you ask, though you’ve already made up your mind. “Because she’ll remind me of a day I felt very loved.” It’s sappy, but you can’t help it.

Dustin looks over at the cat. “Whaddya think? Is your name Lovey?” Lovey just snuggles up closer to you, making everyone laugh.

“Lovey it is,” Eddie confirms, kissing your forehead.

~

A few more weeks go by, filled with Lovey cuteness and training. She’s getting the hang of the litter box, though both you and Eddie have stepped in your fair share of cat turds.

The day you’ve been dreading finally arrives: Corroded Coffin is going back on the road. Eddie’s hesitant; he knows he has to tour to make money, but he’s terrified to leave you alone. You’re nervous, too. Even though she’s behind bars, there could be more Eddie stalkers out there that you don’t even know about yet.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Eddie asks, gnawing on his lower lip as he rolls his suitcase to the door.

You nod. “I’ll be fine. Lovey will protect me,” you remind him. “She’s officially my guard-cat.”

“Ah, yes,” he teases, “she will lick them to death with her sandpaper tongue.”

“Seriously, Eds,” you take his hand in yours and swing it gently. “I’ve got Hopper on speed dial. We’ve got that fancy new alarm system you set up, and you’re not even in the phonebook anymore. You don’t have to worry about me.”

He scoffs. “I’m going to worry about you. Don’t even try to convince me not to.”

You laugh. “Fine, worry about me! But just know that you don’t have to.”

He gives you a deep kiss, breathing you in. “Call me if you need anything, okay? I left a list of the venues we’re playing, and I installed a phone on the bus, so that number’s on there, too.”

“Thank you,” you say. “I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you, too. So fucking much.”

~

The first three days with just you and Lovey are uneventful. You’ve been looking for a new job, so most of your days are spent poring over the Help Wanted section of the Hawkins Post. When you’re not job-hunting, you’re trying out recipes that Eddie would never eat, or playing with Lovey. She’s particularly fond of one toy that’s essentially a ribbon on a stick.

On day four, the phone rings. It’s your lawyer.

“Y/N?” Linda’s aggressive voice bleats over the receiver. “It’s Linda.”

“Yes? Is everything okay with the case?” Your blood runs cold at the idea of the stalker breaking out of jail.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” she reassures you, and you breathe a long sigh of relief. “I just got a call from Stacey’s lawyer, and she informed me that Stacey would like to speak to you and apologize.”

You scowled at her name; you preferred to just think of her as her. “Why?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Well, she might be trying to show the judge that she’s on her best behavior,” Linda explains, “but she is pleading guilty, so I’m not confident that that’s her reasoning.”

“Oh-okay,” you stammer. “So, is she gonna, like, call me or something?”

“No, sweetheart. You’d have to go down and speak to her in person,” Linda says. “She’d be behind a glass wall; you’d talk through a telephone that connects to each side.” She pauses for a moment. “You aren’t obligated, you know.”

You take a sharp breath in. “When can I go?”

~

Linda is able to schedule a visit for the next day. You don’t tell Eddie; he’d just try to talk you out of it. And maybe he’d be right, but you want to do this. You need the closure.

The guards pat you down and check your bag. You wish you could’ve brought Lovey with you. She’d gotten good at calming you down. Your nightmares slightly subsided when you felt her warm little body curled up at the foot of your bed.

You sit in a cold plastic chair, wringing your hands anxiously, until Stacey appears in front of you. She’s wearing a bright orange jumpsuit. Her eyes scream with exhaustion, so different from the villain who’d attacked you all those nights ago.

You each pick up the phone on your respective sides of the glass. All of the words you want to say get caught in your throat.

“Hi,” Stacey says softly. “Thank you for coming.” Like this is a dinner party she’s hosting. You think you’re going to be sick.

Stacey continues on. “I want to apologize for what I did,” she begins. “Y/N, I am so, so sorry for hurting you. I feel awful knowing that I’ve caused you so much pain.” Tears well in her eyes and she sniffles.

You can’t muster up any empathy; in fact, only rage bubbles to the surface. “You feel awful?” you hiss. “I’m the one having nightmares of you in my home, holding a knife to my throat, kicking me in the stomach, violating my safety.

“I see you everywhere I go. I feel like you’re following me in the grocery store. I worry that I’ll walk into an elevator and be trapped with you. That I’ll wake up and you’ll be in my bed.” You can’t hold back your own emotions anymore, and you start to cry. “So don’t sit here and tell me about how you feel, because I honestly don’t give a flying fuck.”

You expect her sinister grin to return, delighting in the spectacle you’re making. Instead, she nods solemnly. “You’re right.” She lightly scratches her short fingernails against the counter surface. “This...this isn’t an excuse, and I hope you don’t take it as one,” she says quietly, practically a whisper. “After I was arrested, the doctors diagnosed me with schizophrenia. I was having delusions...I thought I actually was Eddie’s soulmate. I thought God was putting me through a series of tests to get to him. Y/N, I seriously thought God was speaking directly to me.” She shakes her head at the ridiculousness of the idea.

“So, what did the doctors do?” you ask bitterly.

“They gave me medications that help, and I speak to a counselor here. She makes sure that my thoughts aren’t paranoid or delusional or anything like that.” Stacey looks at you, pained. “I didn’t realize how bad I’d gotten.”

You hesitate before posing your next question, terrified of the answer. “Do you still think you’re Eddie’s soulmate?”

She shakes her head. “No. Absolutely not. I don’t know him. I know his music, but I don’t know him.” A tear runs down her cheek. “Eddie is not anything to me besides a musician I listened to.”

You look at the ceiling. She seems sincere, like she understands the depth of the damage she’s caused. “I accept your apology,” you say carefully, “but I can’t forgive you. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to, but I definitely can’t forgive you right now.”

Stacey nods. “I know. I wanted to apologize, and I’m just grateful that you came.”

“Well, okay then,” you clear your throat awkwardly, unsure how to end a conversation with someone who once tried to kill you. “Thank you for your apology.”

~

You call Eddie as soon as you get home and fill him in. He’s not thrilled that you spoke to Stacey, especially without him, but he doesn’t lecture you.

“Do you think it helped?” he asks gently.

“I dunno,” you answer honestly. “I don’t...I don’t think it hurt. It just felt like something I had to do.”

“Okay,” he finally says. “We have a week between our gig tonight and our next gig because the venue had to cancel. I’m coming home tomorrow, and I’ll be there for a few days. I miss you so fucking much,” he admits.

“I miss you more, Eds. And Lovey misses you most,” you tell him as she purrs on your lap.

“I’ll see you both so soon,” he promises. 

“We’ll be here,” you tell him, “safe and sound.”

--

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #requests

[gingergari]

Saw your Peach AU art and it got me wondering:

What was her reasoning for using the crown long term? Is it a secret that is revealed later? Or are mario and luigi told right away? Does bowser know? So many questions!!

Of course if anything I ask is a spoiler you don't have to answer!

oh my god i forgot to save my draft 😭 i’ll try to remember what i wrote

1. it really wasn’t her decision to use the crown but more of a tradition of the royal family that had gone on for some time. it’s something she learned how to properly use growing up, alongside toadette and toadiko :]

since the mushroom kingdom is rather prominent (major source of healing mushrooms, exporter of the main ? block material, and the transportation pipe hub), it has been the target of conquests before, especially when the ruler was perceived to be as weak as a toad. they aren’t very strong constitutionally, and the mushroom kingdom does not have the best military even in war time, so one of their ‘defenses’ is a ‘human’ with strong magic like peach.

i definitely think it’s not out of the question for there to have been an actual human ruler before the crown began to be used, but that would have been some time ago.

i’m still deciding on how much of a secret this is in the mushroom kingdom. i’m leaning more towards a forgotten fact among her people, as peach is never in public in her toad form but she is nonetheless accepted and beloved by her subjects.

(peasley knows on account of the beanbean kingdom’s relationship with the mushroom kingdom and an early hope that they could be betrothed. this obviously doesn’t happen but they are close regardless. i’m not sure if daisy knows, but i would like her to)

2. mario and luigi are not immediately told, and fairly so. though they had sought out and rescued the princess not long after arriving in the kingdom, the two are still strangers and liabilities that were attempting to return home to brooklyn anyway. toadsworth would’ve had a heart attack if she did 💀 it’s only after they settle and mario starts getting especially close with peach that this becomes an issue. since she’s perceived as the only human besides themselves and daisy, a bit of their relationship seems to be built on the two being alike.

peach waffles and stalls on telling him because of the obvious safety issue for herself but also her fear that she will lose everything with mario since she isn’t what he thinks she is.

and ofc, once mario knows, luigi will know as well.

they do find out, though! eventually! :D

3. bowser absolutely does not know, and it is peach’s imperative that it stays that way. bowser is the main threat to the mushroom kingdom and if there is anything that he can use to obtain victory, he will use it. he is also in love/lust with peach which doesn’t help matters. peach is terrified of the possibility that he finds out somehow, and believes if this ever happens he will kill her.

once the bros know, they pull out all the stops to keep this illusion up in the event that the four are interacting with each other, but this is rare.

(bowser has seen peach’s toad form, though! 🩵 he just doesn’t know it)

#gari’s asks #smb #toad peach au #they call me the queuer #ty for the ask! :^) #ngl i didn’t even think about the concept of spoilers. maybe i should 🤡

[sadiegirl2021]

Watermelon Sugar (NSFW)

Hop on the Gwynlain Train!

I keep seeing that cute fanart of them baking, so I wrote some inspired smut! Enjoy

Ao3 Link

Elain was excited to visit the House of Wind today. She hadn't really spoken to Azriel much since their 'near kiss' at Solstice, but after everything that happened with Feyre and Rhys, and nearly losing people she loved, she didn't want to avoid him any longer. She deserved to be desired and loved, and he wanted to give that to her…at least he did at Solstice.

She told Feyre she was making some treats for Nesta; she definitely didn't mention Azriel. Rhysand seemed tense whenever his name was mentioned these days.

She worked all morning in the kitchen, baking scones and fruit tarts, and had them packaged up neatly in a wicker basket. She had butterflies at the thought of Azriel’s face when she gave him the special tart she'd made just for him. She had cut a love heart out of the pastry’s centre, and filled it with homemade strawberry jam. He was going to love it... she hoped!

"Ready?" Feyre asked, swanning into the kitchen in a flowing black dress. She really was the embodiment of the Night Court.

"Yes! I left a few extra treats for you and Rhys for later."

"You're too good to us," Feyre replied, holding out her hand to winnow. Elain always hated this part. Her hair and clothes were going to be in disarray when she landed. She could only pray no one would be on the balcony, so she had time to fix herself. She took her sisters hand, and they disappeared in a flash, reappearing just above the wards, and gliding down with ease as Feyre summoned her wings.

No one was around! Thank the gods. Elain smoothed out her dress, fixed her hair, and headed for the dining room where she assumed everyone was.

"I'll pick you up at six," Feyre called out as she flew away. She waved her sister off.

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

"Knock, knock…" she said, standing at the doorway of the balcony that led to the grand dining room.

Azriel, Cassian, and Nesta were eating lunch along with Nesta’s two friends. She hadn’t had a chance to meet them properly, only caught a glance of them the day Nyx was born.

One had dark hair, light brown skin, angular eyes, and beautiful Illyrian wings, with scars running down them. That must have been Emerie. And the other…

Elain drew in a breath at the sight of her, the first proper look at her.

This female must have been Gwyn. She was beautiful—rich, coppery chestnut hair and large teal eyes that caught the light and sparkled. Elain had never seen anyone so breathtaking before, human or fae.

Gwyn noticed her staring and, in a light voice, greeted her, “Hello! You must be Elain?” she asked, standing to approach her.

Elain was lost for words.

Nesta cleared her throat, snapping Elain out of her stupor enough to finally reply, “Oh, yes! Gwyn, isn’t it?” she asked, extending her hand. Gwyn took it, and at the first touch, Elain felt a spark ignite inside her—like nothing she had ever felt before. Gwyn looked a bit wide-eyed too, as if she had felt it as well. They stayed like that for a moment too long, holding onto each other's hand.

“What did you bring us, Elain?” It was Azriel who asked. Right. Azriel! That’s who she really came here to see.

“Oh, some homemade treats! You all train so hard; you deserve it,” she said to the group.

“They’re on a strict diet; they shouldn’t be eating sweets,” Cassian argued. Nesta rolled her eyes, getting out of her chair to give her sister a hug in ‘thanks.’ Emerie was next, shaking Elain’s hand and introducing herself. But Elain couldn’t stop stealing glances at Gwyn. There was just something about her…

“This is really nice, thank you,” Azriel leaned over and whispered in her ear. His hand brushed against her back, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. “It’s nothing,” she replied, trying to angle her body away from him. Why did his touch feel wrong? No, she was just being silly. She should give him the one special treat she made for him… or…

“Gwyn, can you help me dish them up in the kitchen?” Elain exclaimed, garnering surprised looks from the table.

“Yeah… sure. Follow me,” Gwyn said.

She wasn’t even sure if Gwyn lived in the house or knew where the kitchens were. But the words had slipped out before she could stop them. What was wrong with her?

Gwyn gestured to the door, and they headed out of the room.

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

“So nice of you to bake us treats; I can hardly boil an egg,” Gwyn quipped as they walked. Elain felt so nervous and sweaty, and she didn’t know why. It was just Nesta’s friend... her beautiful, stunning, tall, warrior friend...

Elain said nothing. Gwyn continued to fill the awkward silence, “Well, there was this one time I made my sister a chocolate cake… although I accidentally used a tablespoon of salt instead of a pinch. Bless her, she pretended it was lovely before running to the bathroom to throw up!” Gwyn laughed at the memory.

Elain had to start speaking, “She sounds like a great sister. Does she live in the Night Court?”

Gwyn frowned sadly, “No…she died at Sangravah. Azriel was only able to rescue me.”

Oh gods. She was so stupid to ask.

Gwyn must have noticed her expression, “Hey! It’s fine; I want to talk about her…just because I miss her doesn’t mean I don’t want to remember,” she said with a gracious smile.

Elain returned it. She didn’t know what she’d do without her sisters. Both had helped her so much in life…she felt like a burden to them.

“We’re here!” Gwyn chirped, pointing to the swinging, double door. She gestured for Elain to go first and followed closely behind.

“We could have just asked the house for a plate, but this seems more fun. Any idea where they would be kept?” Gwyn asked Elain as they took in the huge, sprawling kitchen. It looked like it had never been used.

“Does Nesta not cook for Cassian?”

Gwyn howled in laughter. “Nesta? Cook!? That’s hilarious. I don’t even think she knows this room exists! She has a magic house; no one cooks.”

Oh, right…

“Well, I’m sure between us we can find an adequate serving dish,” Elain said with determination in her voice. Gwyn mirrored it, and they split up to find something. It wasn’t long before Elain found an oval, porcelain plate, painted with delicate flowers. It was perfect.

She opened the basket, and she and Gwyn went to work placing the treats on the dish in an appetising display.

“Ohhh…who’s this one for?” Gwyn teased, noting the love heart tart meant for Azriel. Elain’s cheeks flushed.

“Eh…I haven’t decided yet!” Where did that come from? 

“It looks delicious,” Gwyn said, while licking off a bit of jam that got on her finger. Elain’s breath caught at the sight of it. The flush of her cheeks spread lower down her body.

“Y–You can have it?” she stammered out.

Gwyn’s eyes lit up. “Really? I thought it was for someone special?”

“I would like you to have it…if you want it?” Elain did not mean for the words to come out as seductively as they had. Gwyn stared at her before biting her lip and saying, “I think I do want it…” 

Gods, there was no air in the kitchen. Elain’s throat felt like it was closing up.

Gwyn took the tart and slowly raised it to her mouth, still staring at Elain. She licked the jam out of the center and moaned at the taste, “Fuck…this is so good,” she groaned out. Elain was going to die; her core tightened as she watched.

After a few more licks of the centre, Gwyn stopped to ask, “Do you want some?”

Elain could only nod, licking her lips in anticipation.

Gwyn moved gracefully towards her, bringing the tart towards Elain’s mouth. When she went to take a bite, Gwyn kept moving it back as Elain followed it. Their lips were so close now. Was she really going to do this?

Gwyn hesitated, waiting for Elain to make a move… and so she did. Elain leaned up and pressed her lips against Gwyn’s, the sweet taste of strawberry jam still lingering on them. She moaned in pleasure at the taste, at the feel of Gwyn’s lips against her own.

Gwyn made her own beautiful sounds that Elain wanted to bottle and keep forever. Her hands had a mind of their own as they moved to grip Gwyn’s waist and pull her closer. Gwyn went with it and licked along Elain’s lips. They parted to let her in.

As their tongues brushed against each other, Elain never thought she could experience this level of euphoria from a kiss. No man had ever elicited such a response. Her core heated, the scent of her arousal evident as it mixed with Gwyn’s. It was intoxicating. It made them deepen their kiss, pushing their bodies tightly against one another.

“I’ve never done this before,” Gwyn whispered against her lips, panting.

“Kissed a girl?” Neither had she.

“Kissed anyone.”

Elain was stunned but didn’t stop, too lost in the feeling. Gwyn was possibly the most beautiful female to exist, and that was saying something considering Mor existed! It spurred Elain on more. Their tongues and teeth clashed as they grabbed at each other’s clothes.

Gwyn’s hand came to the front of Elain’s dress, and she gently squeezed one of her breasts before pinching her nipple lightly. It felt so incredible Elain couldn’t hold back the moans she sang out into Gwyn’s mouth. She did it again, and Elain knew she was wetter than she thought was possible.

“You certainly seem to know what you’re doing,” Elain groaned as Gwyn continued her sensual touches.

“I read a lot of books,” she teased seductively. Nesta’s smutty books, no doubt!

“Yeah… what else did you learn from your books?” Elain responded, shocking herself with the words coming out of her mouth. Gwyn pushed Elain back against the counter before stopping their kiss to go to her knees. It was the hottest thing Elain had ever seen.

Gwyn bunched up Elain’s dress to show her underwear. She leaned forward and kissed against the fabric. Elain’s head fell back in pleasure as she groaned from the feeling.

When Gwyn stopped, she looked down to see why. There was a question in her eyes, and Elain nodded ‘yes’.

Elain took hold of her dress as Gwyn pulled down her soaking underwear to the knees, enough to give her access to what Elain desperately wanted. Gwyn kissed her clit before her tongue began its work. Elain couldn’t stop the cries of pleasure at the feeling. Nothing had, and nothing would ever feel this good.

“More!” Elain mewled out, and Gwyn’s fingers joined her mouth. As her tongue teased her opening, pressing inside her, her fingers rubbed tantalising circles on her clit. She was going to come so fast and so hard from this.

Elain gripped the counter, trying to hold herself up, her knees getting weak. She still couldn’t understand how she’d ended up here, but she didn’t care. It was perfect.

Gwyn’s ministrations continued, and after a few more moments of perfect pressure being applied to all the right places, Elain cried out as she came. Gwyn moaned as she did, enjoying Elain’s writhing motions as she trembled in ecstasy. 

When the wave was over, Gwyn fixed her underwear and dress before making her way back up to kiss Elain. The taste of herself on Gwyn’s lips and tongue was incredible. She wanted to repay the favour.

She moved to turn them, but Gwyn shook her head, “Just you.”

“Why?” Elain asked, she wanted to taste Gwyn just as much.

“I’ll tell you another day,” she said, kissing the tip of Elain’s nose. “Thank you for the treats,” she smiled, and Elain couldn’t help but laugh.

“I mean…thank you for that!”

Gwyn laughed too.

They finished dishing up the scones and tarts, composed themselves, and headed back to the dining room. Elain felt lighter than a cloud. Her day, month, year just got so much better than she could ever anticipate.

“Took you long enough,” Cassian joked.

Gwyn and Elain only smirked at each other. Elain placed the treats in the middle of the table, and everyone but Azriel grabbed one. He was looking at her funny and then glanced towards Gwyn. His eyes went wide when she noticed one of her shadows whisper in his ear.

Fuck… he knew.

#pro gwyneth berdara #pro elain archeron #having a good time in the kitchen #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #acotar fanfiction #gwynlain #crackship #one shot

[mr-laveau]

20 Questions for Fic Writers Game

Tagged by a darling, @autisticempathydaemon! Thanks for the tag!

Tagging @agentplutonium because I wanna pull some SH style interrogative shenanigans/lh

1 - How many works do you have on AO3?

Seventeen, not a lot but it's to be expected somewhat I suppose since I'm busy writing NeXus.

2 - What's your total AO3 word count?

64,509-Oh look I beat Lexi/j/pos

3 - What fandoms do you write for?

Redacted mostly, I have some unreleased Castle Audios fics, an unfinished JJBA SDC fic to finish and a Scott Pilgrim fic to start.

4 - What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

#1 is an Ironpanther Marvel Fic of Avenger's Academy I have not touched in forever called "How Tony Stark landed a king and how T'Challa landed a genius". It was fun tho cuz my hc of T'Challa being demisexual was really well received to my knowledge. #2 is "Spitfire", which admittedly is a good FL/Damien fic and people should read it. #3 is "Ghost of the Past", my Sam/SH fic where they both used to be roommates in DUMP. #4 is "Friends...Am I right?" which was a really fun Darlin/Sam & BE+Fred fic. Finally, #5 is "Moments That Flash By" which is a really good Darlin/David fic for my soul.

5 - Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do respond when I remember...ADHD makes me do silly silly things like forget that stuff exists. I like comments and they let me know I'm doing s good job.

6 - What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Easy! "Shattered Glass Makes a Good Weapon" Gods, I love that fic so much. It was really fun for me to reach deep down and write Darlin and Quinn like that.

7 -What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

uhhhhhhh I dunno, probably a Marvel fic called "Crossing Buckies and Dotting Hawkeyes", I am a winterhawk girlie and I had fun writing that, others might think it's "Spitfire" or "Break time, Gorgeous" but subjectively, it's that fic.

8 - Do you get hate on fics?

If I have then I haven't seen it. I don't really engage much with fandom to care about hate comments because "haha, look at you getting mad over words about fictional characters kissing", like shut your goofy ass and move on.

9 - Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I have but I'm not releasing it. I don't feel compelled to do it-mostly cuz it's for me and I like toying with the idea in my head and the people of my current fandom are not ready for the depravity I could unleash.

10 - Do you write crossovers?

No? I have ideated one but I'm still not sure if I want to do it.

11 - Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope.

12 - Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nuh uh.

13 - Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Uhhhh no but I have ideated with Lexi about one and I have been too busy to finish the first chapter.

14 - What's your all time favorite ship?

My redactedsona/redacted men What? who said that? It's Darlin/Sam/David/Angel/Damien/Asher/Baaabe/SH/Milo. It's my ship and yes, they're all poly, yes, they're a network and yes, I am happy with myself.

15 - What's a WIP that you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

"Platinum Portrait", It was an old JJBA fic with my OC/Jotaro and I really liked how it was going. Dunno, we'll see how it goes.

16 - What are your writing strengths?

I'm good at dialogue and characterization as well as pacing(?).

17 - What are your writing weaknesses?

Gore, writing long fics, Dead Dove Do Not Eats (I wanna do those at some point with Quinn or Hush OR Porter OR OR OR Imperium Vincent) I like dark shit, idk what to tell y'all and I wanna get better at exploring darker topics properly in my writing.

18 - Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Gods, I love doing it. If you've read "Break Time, Gorgeous" then I want you to know, I love you and it was fun as hell to write.

19 - First fandom you wrote for?

Marvel. Specifically it was my Ironpanther fic.

20 - Favorite fic you've written?

An unreleased Sam/Darlin smut fic where they fuck in an alleyway. I think it's fun.

#mr. laveau #redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted fandom #marvel fanfiction #jjba fanfic #redacted audio fanfic #ask game #fic writing #fanfic #ao3 fanfic