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lilibethwrites · 1 year

Note

Hello! you would write to aemond x reader. Where she goes to Storm's End, trading instead of her brother, and instead of asking for Lucerys' eye, Aemond claims her as his wife.

To Have and to Hold

Aemond Targaryen x F!Velaryon (Strong)!Reader

Warnings: violence, NSFW, incest

Word count: 3583

A.N: Reader is the middle sister of Lucerys and Jacaerys. This is a good old enemies-to-lovers story with a happy ending.

The family was gathered around the painted table. Plans were made and changed and remade altogether in mere seconds, the lords loyal to your mother scrambling to do everything all at once to secure her rightful claim to the throne.

“Send us, mother. Dragons are faster than ravens,” Jacaerys insisted when the matter of reaffirming old oaths came up.

On your mother’s command, he was to fly south and Lucerys was to fly north, to Storm’s End. Luke agreed to the task, yet you could tell his hesitance from the way he tried to conceal his fidgeting. The rattled nerves made him seem smaller than he was as he hunched over, nodding to the duty given to him.

So you stepped up, though only after the meeting was adjourned. Lucerys was too proud to allow what you have intended otherwise, but you were too fond of your baby brother to let him fly through the treacherous weather of the North alone.

“Mother. A word, please?”

Rhaenyra intended Lucerys to familiarize himself with diplomatic duties which were sure to come in waves following her own coronation. Your proposal was compelling nevertheless. Storm’s End was a flight too difficult for your younger brother to make alone, and you as his companion might soothe his nerves and might even compel Lord Borros Baratheon to be kinder to the message you were to deliver.

“Very well, then,” Rhaenyra reluctantly agreed to your proposal but only on the condition that you would go in peace: as envoys and not as warriors.

The flight to Storm’s End was uneventful. With jokes and friendly teasing, it almost felt like your regular flights above the Dragonstone on beautiful mornings and starry nights. Except there was strong wind and downpour all at once, and Lucerys became quieter as you approached your destination.

“Come on, Luke. I will race you to the courtyard!”

Your dragon was older, not big enough on her own to be considered mature yet, but bigger in comparison to Arrax, which made Arrax faster in contrast.

So Luke landed first, and you were mere minutes behind him.

“Well done, brother. You beat me. You shall have my slice of the pie this supper.”

But Lucerys didn’t seem excited about what would make him jump up and down if it were any other time. He didn’t even smile. He was facing his sister with a hand gripping the saddle on Arrax and the other clutching the hilt of his sword, but his young face was contorted in concern as he looked through her. If you hadn’t known him better, you’d almost misread it for fear.

“What is it?” You asked, but Luke only remained motionless, looking beyond to the walls of the keep.

It was then that you saw it in the flash of lightning that lit up the sky for a moment. Vhagar. She was big enough to make the outer walls of the keep seem like miniatures. You gulped, though remained stoic on the outside for the sake of your younger brother. You accompanied him to support him, not to plummet him down into the endless pit of fear. Vhagar meant, however, the Prince you’d rather see the least had beaten you to Lord Borros. You only hoped he was given a chamber of his own, and you’d deliver your message and slip out without ever facing him.

“Come on, Luke. Let us haste. Mother’s expecting us back for supper.”

The dark and empty hall was as hostile as its Lord. And in the corner stood Aemond Targaryen with one of Lord Borros’ daughters. She seemed tense. You could tell, because so were you.

“Come on, Luke.” You nudged your brother, and he held the sealed message out for the guards.

As the Maester to Lord Borros slowly dragged his feet to his master’s seat and relayed the message to him in hushed whispers, your eyes were trained on Aemond’s. He stood tall and proud, looking at you and your brother with disdain in his eyes and disgust in the way his lips curled up.

Luke clutched his sword once again, and you squeezed his shoulder. “Let go of it, brother. Remember your oath to mother.”

With Luke unable to marry, Lord Borros without a son to offer you, and most importantly, with sweet promises laced with poison seeping into his ear all the way from King’s Landing, Borros Baratheon broke his oath. On any other day, you’d remain and quarrel, threaten the Baratheon forces to bend the knee to the true Queen and not to the Usurper King, but on that day, you wished nothing more than to escort your brother out to safety.

“We thank you for your consideration, Lord Borros,” you spoke without reverence. A turncloak deserved only the traitor’s death. But you’d return for it another day.

Meanwhile, Aemond’s gaze burned into the back of your head as you put a hand on Luke’s back to signal him it was way past your time for departure.

“Wait, my Lord and Lady Strong!” Aemond’s humiliating tone echoed off the walls.

“Luke—”

Fiery as ever, Luke shrugged your hand off and turned on his heels to face Aemond.

“Mind your tongue! Apologize to my dear sister right now!”

“Hm. How about you apologize to me for trying to steal my brother’s crown, traitor?”

“I will do no such thing!”

“Then you are a coward as well as a traitor and I will have your eye, bastard.”

Aemond ripped the dagger from its sheath and threw it flying towards Y/N and her older brother.

With each lightning that struck, the sapphire eye in place of the one Luke once slashed out glimmered. It seemed as if it had a mind of its own, no doubt just as vile and dangerous as its owner.

“As payment for mine.”

“No,” Lucerys stood his ground.

Aemond all but jumped forward then, spurred on by the courage of a boy he saw inferior to him in all regards. Lucerys to stand against him, tall and proud, was a massive hit to his pride.

As Aemond picked up his dagger and moved for Lucerys, you stepped in between your brother and uncle.

“NO! No!”

Your intervention caught Aemond by surprise. He was intrigued, amused, even. What a fine, fiery woman his nephew has turned out to be. Shame she was a bastard all the same.

“Please— Aemond. My Prince. Please—”

“What? Do you plead to pitch in?” he stared into Y/N’s eyes then. He was unyielding, unflinching.

“Luke, go. I command you. As your sister, I command you to leave!” You pleaded with Lucerys, but he stood unmoving behind you.

“Lucerys!”

“No…” Aemond was amused. “No, your eyes are of no value to me. I want his eye!”

Luke would have escaped had it not been for his older sister. He would have turned around and made it to his dragon as you demanded. Yet, only a few acts were more loathsome than leaving kin to the wolves. Besides, Rhaenyra would’ve shredded him to bits and fed him to Arrax for all to see.

So Luke kneeled to take the dagger. Aemond’s request was fair after all.

“Perhaps not my eyes,” You spoke hastily with your hand wrapped around Luke’s wrist in an effort to stop him.

“But demand what you deem worthy of me and you shall have it. I beg of you, Aemond. Let my baby brother return to our mother. He came only as an envoy. He means no harm to you.”

“Hm.” He seemed to consider the offer genuinely that time. “As if you could harm me if you tried. Well, it seems the girl has bigger balls than you, bastard. You’re strong only in name, Lord Strong.”

Then he turned his attention back to you with a cruel smirk that pressed his lips into a thin line.

“You would trade your life, no matter how worthless, for your bastard brother?”

“If it is my life you demand, you shall have it. But allow my brother safe passage first.”

It was Lucerys’ turn to protest then, but you took a step forward, hoping that Aemond would be merciful enough to at least spare your brother the grim sight of the execution of his sister.

“I won’t kill you, dear Nephew. Oh, no. That would be entertainment for what? an hour? No, I will marry you,” His eye widened and he grinned as if a child got a platter of cakes and pies all to himself.

“Go on, then, pup,” He nodded to Lucerys pulling at the sleeves of your damp travelling coat, begging you to stop.

“Go with your worthless life and carry the heavy news to your false Queen—that her daughter is to be defiled by Prince Aemond. Perhaps she will be overjoyed to see what true Targaryen offspring looks like.”

You were trembling then. From standing in a stone hall, dripping head to toe from the downpour you have just escaped from, or from the cruel design Aemond has traded you for your brother’s eye, you didn’t know.

Your brother was looking at you incredulously, clutching Aemond’s dagger with his shaking hand.

“Go—go, Lucerys,” you mumbled between shaky breaths that threatened to explode into a sobbing fit. “You’ve heard Prince Aemond. Relay the news to the Queen.”

“Sister—I won’t leave you—”

“How sad,” Aemond spoke joylessly, mocking Luke with his lips downturned in an exaggerated fashion. “Will you cry, pup?”

“Sister, I shall return. I promise—”

“You will do no such thing, Lucerys,” your back was turned to him, your tears concealed from his vision. “Now go.”

“Oh, and I will have this back,” Aemond reached behind Lucerys, tearing the dagger from his hand and sheating it back to its place on his belt.

Aemond took his leave after Lucerys’, all but dragging you to Vhagar. You grappled to reach for your own dragon but to no avail. Aemond’s vice grip would sooner rip your arm from your shoulder before he let you loose.

“Did you think I would let you fly on your own? What do you take me for, a fool?”

“No. You are no fool. But you are a cruel monster.”

It seemed to please him, and he snorted.

“A monster who is nought but a bully had it not been for his dragon!”

That, however, seemed to have gotten to him. He stopped in his track under the downpour abruptly and struck you across the face. It was your time to grin. For all his quiet mystery, his underbelly was clear as day.

“My Prince forgets who was there on the night he usurped Vhagar from her rightful successors. You were but a scared child who stole what you did not deserve.”

His fingers wrapped around your neck, squeezing so tight that your vision soon turned blurry and you gasped desperately, clawing at his on your throat. There was nothing but fury in his eye, wide with surprise that a woman would speak so plainly to him, and red with rage and the rain.

“Speak but another word and I shall send your skull to your whore of a mother!”

He let go and you collapsed to your knees, coughing and gasping for air. Then came waves of hiccups and sobs, not out of fear or misery but out of utter wrath.

“Save your tears. If it is sympathy you hope for, you shall get none from me. You are a foul bastard just like the rest of your brood and you shall be treated as one.”

Deep down, however, the deal he had just struck excited Aemond. His mouth watered at the thought of his reluctant but fiery bride in their marital bed, as they consummated the marriage and repeated the act over and over again until her belly was swollen and ran around the Red Keep children of Aemond’s own.

She was still a filthy bastard in his eye, yet if he had to choose one of his nieces to tolerate, he’d gladly choose Y/N over the others. Back when they all grew up on King’s Landing, he did have a crush on her, after all. Though it was silly, and he ripped the roots of it long ago. At least he thought so.

Something about her dark hair, livelier complexion, and eyes… her eyes. The defiance and pride in them. And she was brave; braver than most, braver than even his drunk, sorry excuse of a brother and father.

Back at King’s Landing, Alicent was rightfully outraged by the turn of events. Of course, you didn’t expect a warm welcome from your mother-in-law, and you didn’t get one.

Most of your days leading up to the wedding were spent in a chamber of your own with your door locked and latched on you and with a Kingsguard standing watch at all times. It was lonely, except for when Aemond came to visit, which he did almost every night.

He sat by the fireplace and you sat on the bed. Though at first not a lot of words were spoken, soon you realized just how much his conversation entertained you, and that you looked forward to his visits.

It was one of those nights that he stopped by with a heavy book under his arm.

“I had the Maester copy this for you,” he spoke dryly, but he had a hint of a self-satisfied smile on his lips.

He set the book down on the table and flipped through the pages.

“If you put your nose to it, you can still smell the ink.”

Aemond didn’t expect you to indulge him the way you did. You walked up to him, and with your cheek to his, joined him in inhaling the scent of ink on parchment pages.

“What is it about? The book?” You asked with genuine interest, flipping through the pages as Aemond pulled away to look at you incredulously. You weren’t resisting him, dismissing him, or threatening him with a slit throat in his sleep as you usually did.

“It’s—it’s on the history of Valyria. This is the first volume of many.”

“Oh, I remember this book.”

“You do?”

“Yes!” You pulled away with a proud smile of your own. For a moment, you looked like two ordinary lovers conversing by the fire, not enemies who supposed to hate each other and about to be united only as torture for one another.

“Remember Aunt Leana’s funeral?”

Of course he did. That was when you mocked Aemond for not being a dragon rider still, and told him the Gods were cruel not to give him the handsome face Aegon was blessed with. How silly were you back then. But how could you know that Aemond would grow up to be the Prince you’d fall for day after day?

“Yes?” he responded warily.

“Well, you were reading this then. I tore a page out, and you were so cross you told on me to my mother,” you giggled, giving him a playful slap on the shoulder before seating yourself by the fireplace.

Aemond smiled as well, approaching his usual seat cautiously as if not to spook a skittish prey. When you nursed your cup of wine without a flinch, he sat by you. Though his face was turned to the fire, he stole quick glances at your face, your neckline revealed by your evening robe, and your delicate, ringed fingers wrapped around the cup.

“Regretfully, you were fluent in High Valyrian back then and I knew very little, and nothing much has changed ever since.”

“Oh,” Aemond caught your eyes, searching for the dark, burning dislike you had for him that he came to expect. Instead your face was relaxed, and your eyes were almost that of a lover’s. Then, you reached for his hand. It must be the wine, Aemond thought. What else?

“You shall have to teach me.”

“I shall arrange the Maester—”

“I asked you, Aemond, not the Maester.”

From then on, Aemond visited you every night without fail. He came earlier and left later into the night. Though he always brought books, parchment and ink, very little High Valyrian was actually studied. His days were eventful and you loved to listen, and he loved the way you reminisced their days of youth.

So, on a night like that, with your hand on his over the table, you spoke the words that almost stopped his heart.

“I wish you would stay the night, Aemond. It gets awfully lonely some nights.”

He blinked a few times, unsure if his ears heard what you spoke, or what he so desperately wished you would.

“It—it would be improper before the wedding.”

“You took me hostage, Aemond. Traditions are obeyed very little in our marriage.”

That night was the first time you called what was slowly blossoming between him and you a marriage. The words you spoke took him by surprise, just as the way you said them—playfully, with no hatred or resentment.

“You offered yourself up. I was content enough having your brother’s eye.” That was Aemond’s attempt at humour in response, a macabre and perhaps a twisted one that would have gotten raise out of any other woman. Yet you only looked at him for a second, then laughed.

“Yet you did not have to lock me up. I would not have run.”

“No, but my brother would have stolen you from me.”

“Oh, surely. Aegon did promise to demonstrate to me… what was it? Real manhood in case you ever failed to do so.”

“He did?” Aemond frowned. Was that what jealousy felt like?

“Mmhm. I told him I was confident you would make a good husband.”

Though the ceremony was mere days away, Aemond was still not used to being called your husband, especially by you, and he barely got used to wearing a band of gold around his ring finger.

“This would be a good time to say that I would make a good wife, as well,” you joked, hoping to pull Aemond out of his moment of silence.

Instead, Aemond stared at you. He was unblinking and impossible to read. Indeed because his face was impossible to read, it came to you as a surprise when he closed the distance between you and himself and locked his lips with yours.

It was gentle, way gentler than you assumed Aemond was capable of. When he pulled back just enough to study your face, you only whispered “Do it again.”

The caution and restraint went out the window then. His tongue danced across yours and you gripped each other desperately, pulling at your clothes and moaning your names.

Aemond ended up not only staying the night as you asked but consummating your marriage even before the ceremony itself.

It was gentle and cautious at first, but only briefly, before baser and more primal urges overtook you both. You woke up in Aemond’s arms with a dull but sweet ache between your legs and marks in the shape of his mouth and fingers all over your body. Likewise, Aemond woke up with raw lines of skin where your nails had dug into his flesh.

You took your bath together, and Aemond postponed his sword practice for a private noon at the library with you. Though it came as a surprise to neither of you that there was more kissing and touching than reading.

Then, things changed rapidly. Your door was no longer locked, though that might very well be because you all but moved into Aemond’s quarters. You became inseparable. You were there with a book or your embroidery when Aemond trained, you flew together, broke fast and had supper together in his bedchamber.

The only time you regretfully parted was when Alicent—who also surprisingly became like a mother to you, and you a daughter to her— insisted that your fitting for the wedding gown must be kept private and away from the prying eye of the groom. It was bad luck, she insisted, if Aemond saw you in your gown before the ceremony.

“And have you asked mother and the Septa if it is good luck or bad if I have you in your gown?” Aemond teased you, making you blush whenever his words came back to you as the tailors worked ceaselessly to finish the dress before the ceremony.

Neither of you could say if it was indeed bad luck or not, but you found out that it was delightful when Aemond lifted your heavy skirt up and snuck between your legs on your wedding night. He had you in it, just as he promised. Though it was a shame that he grew too impatient to undo the ribbons and laces, so he instead tore and ripped the dress apart, leaving it as a cut of tattered, expensive silk on the floor as the night went on.

You saw the sorry state of the dress in the morning. Well, as much of it as you could see from Aemond’s arms around you, keeping you flush on his body.

“Aemond! You shall never see me wear a lovely dress as this once was for you again!”

“My sweet wife, you should not wear anything for me,” Aemond whispered groggily, still in the sweet clutches of slumber, and he pulled you for a kiss that promised you would not be leaving his bedchamber for the day.

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#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd #house of the dragon

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achaoticeternal · 1 year

Text

bewitched.

AEMOND TARGARYEN X FEM!READER

summary: more word has arrived to you regarding your husbands infidelity. as he returns to you, you present him with a choice. word count: 2k warnings: drinking. strong language. angst. adultery. pain. a/n: see end of the piece for author’s note

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

choose your own ending...

— ending 1.

— ending 2.

— ending 3.

— ending 4.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“My lady,” Your chambermaid spoke from the doorway, returning with a fresh pitcher of wine as you had requested, “Should I see the children to bed?”

“Please do,” Your voice was soft, the words fragile in your solemn state.

“It might be best for you to rest, rather than await the return of Prince Aemond.”

Her words were gentle, simply advising you to take care of yourself. But the fires of hurt and betrayal were already lit.

“What makes you believe that I am awaiting my husband?” With words more venomous than you intended, you bid her leave.

At the sound of the door shutting, you stood and moved toward the pitcher and chalice left idly by the fireplace. You poured the deep red liquid and lifted the cup to your lips, taking a generous gulp. The dull burn allowed some relief to your heightened senses. But you also knew that the alcohol only added fuel to your fire.

Rain began to pour over King’s Landing, softly thudding against the windows and stone of the castle walls. Usually, the rain would lull you to sleep, but it seemed the thunder of the skies only spurred you to continue drowning away the ache in your heart. Your eyes flickered over the second chalice that had been placed on the silver tray with your pitcher. It seemed that the servants expected Aemond to return to the Keep tonight. You were not sure if you wish for him to return or for him to drown in the heavy rains that poured from the sky.

As if the fool perfectly timed you, you glanced out the window to see the silhouette of Vhagar descending toward the Dragon Pits. In a drunken frenzy, you pulled the curtain to cover it, instead, the velvet fabric came down at your harsh tug.

The frustration would nearly boil over, but you did not allow the simple issues to push you over the threshold. As the Queen had often advised you, it was important that a lady bite her tongue and keep her composure even when she is by her lonesome. If someone saw the illusion of a proper lady shatter, it would be nearly impossible to recover from. She even revealed to you how she had come by this knowledge, sharing with you the events that occurred the night Aemond became the one-eyed prince.

Swiftly, you moved back toward the fireplace, picking up the parcel that a raven had delivered directly to you just this morning. It appeared blank to the simple eye, but when you hovered the note over the fire, the message revealed itself. The contents of it were simple, but completely shattered something inside of you:

She is with child.

Though the news had shocked you, the existence of the other woman did not. When Aemond and Daeron laid siege to Harrenhal and the Riverlands, word had traveled through the courts regarding the princes bedding other women. At the time, you had bit your tongue, excusing your husband’s infidelity as you convinced yourself it was just something he used to relieve his stress from battlefields.

But even after the marches through the Riverlands were claimed to be successful and at an end, Aemond would sometimes fly off to Harrenhal. He would say that he was just ensuring the hold that the Greens had on the region, yet you never believed his lies.

It was said that Harrenhal was cursed, blood mixed into the stone that built it. You believed the stories true after the great fire took the lives of Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin when you were a child yourself. But now a curse had attached itself to your husband and kept him crawling back to the towers of Harrenhal.

The door cracked open, the hinges creaking as he entered, exhaustion painted over his face. Aemond was completely drenched, his hair now scrunched into waves rather than falling perfectly straight. Most of his leather overlayer had been discarded for the servants to see to, leaving him in a black tunic and pants with his riding boots.

It took him a few moments, but Aemond quickly came to realize that you were resting by the fire rather than fast asleep in your shared bed.

“Should you not be sleeping, dear wife?” Aemond called out to you while readying himself to turn into bed.

“Sleep has… escaped me recently,” You replied, eyes remaining on the fire. Only at his words did the nerves begin to spur inside you. How would he react when you told him? What would tomorrow bring? None of it really mattered, you supposed, as long as you didn’t allow your nerves to get the best of you.

Now in his proper bedclothes, Aemond began to approach the fireplace. He noticed the half-empty pitcher of wine, slightly shocked that you were partaking this late at night. Usually, you would reserve yourself to only enjoying wine at dinners or feasts, not in your marriage chambers. His eye flickered to the second chalice that sat empty on the silver platter. His slender fingers reached to grasp it, “Would this cup be for me?”

You turned your head, looking between the pitcher and chalice but never into his eye, “The maid brought it with her, probably as a formality. No one expected you back tonight.”

Aemond’s brow furrowed at the tone you spoke with, and it caught the prince off guard when you returned your gaze to the fire rather than continuing to speak with him. He poured his own chalice with wine and allowed himself to enjoy it. He stayed in place, unwavering from his position as he looked down on you.

The air went still… the taste of the wine began to sour in his mouth. He sensed something to be out of place, yet he could not pinpoint it. Usually, you would be elated to see him, but recently you were far more reserved from your husband. Aemond was not sure if he should be upset or concerned, but did not ponder on the thought too much as he allowed himself to attend to his duties rather than his wife.

With a sigh and a light cough to clear his throat, the prince finally spoke once more, “Come to bed…”

The pause settled again before your soft chuckle hung in the air. Quickly, you stood from your seated position and drowned the remainder of your chalice in one swig. You moved to the table and refilled your cup till the pitcher ran dry. Instead of crossing to your bed, you remained standing, only turned away from the man. This behavior caused Aemond to clench his jaw, subduing his urge to correct such disobedience.

“Will you not come to bed with me?” Aemond summoned you again.

Once more you chuckled at him, not sparing him any sort of look from you. Just the cruel chuckle of your acknowledgment.

“Your husband demands—”

“My husband demands me of nothing,” You interrupted him, “And he would do well to find another bed to sleep in or find himself in tonight.”

At your words, Aemond crossed toward you, attempting to snatch the half-drunk chalice of wine from your hands, “It seems you have overindulged yourself. It would do you well to sleep before—”

“Before what? Before I continue to act out of turn?” With a fierce determination, your fingers clutched down onto the chalice so that Aemond could not separate it from you. Your words dripped with poison, “Or before you return to Harrenhal and bed the whore witch?”

At the mention of Alys, both you and Aemond let go of the goblet at the same time and simply watched it fall to the ground, red liquid covering the tile floors.

“It would do you well not to speak of things you do not know or understand.”

“I understand it quite plainly that my husband is now an adulterer, just like his eldest brother and his damned uncle. It seems that disloyalty to marriage is quite a common trait among Targaryen men.”

Quickly, Aemond’s hand came to your throat, gripping the flesh to show how serious he was being, yet not hard enough to asphyxiate you, “Did you not understand my words before, my stupid little wife? It would do you well not to speak of things you do not know…”

“Oh? But I do know…” Your hands grabbed at his forearms, nails sinking into the flesh so that he would release you, “And it would do you well to learn just how smart your wife is…”

“I have known… I have known about Alys since your first rampage through the Riverlands. For moons, I remained confined to the Red Keep from your orders, and when they came to deliver news of you and your victories, I cheered. I still cheered when the maids told me the rumors between you and Alys, because I was grateful to the Seven that you were alive. Because I was still foolish enough to love you far more than you deserve.”

Tears threatened to spill over, but you swallowed them back. You would not allow Aemond the pleasure of your tears, only the fire of your anger.

“She promised me security for my life and the lives of my men,” Aemond attempted to justify himself, “I could not risk it—”

“You could have offered her gold, offered her a title, or anything else besides your body! Instead, you break your vows. And you did not stop there, because you continue to fly back to Harrenhal whenever you desire the witch’s cunt to the point where your son and daughter could not even recognize you if they ever saw you!” You huffed out, scanning his face for any sign of emotion, anything at all.

“You have allowed your lust to overcome you, disappointing your wife, your mother, and the Seven. Worst of all, you shall now have your own bastard. At least this bastard will not be raised of the Street of Silk as your brother’s bastards have.”

“How did you know?” Aemond’s voice cracked while he asked the question, “How do you know she is pregnant?”

A smirk played on your lips at the question, “It seems that the Master of Whispers is a very devoted friend of the Queen, and with the Queen being your mother, she deemed it important enough to share the news with me, your faithful wife.”

His face went pale at the realization of how many people were aware of his infidelity. While Aemond remained silent, you twisted the knife deeper into his chest. You had been tortured with this knowledge for so long that you now enjoyed the pained expression on his face.

“I have always been good to you, devoted to you. Where others cowered from you, I loved you. Despite the warnings of your blood lust and deformity, I loved you and gave you two perfect children who study just as diligently as you once did. So while you found yourself in the arms of another woman, I tried not to curse your name and assure our children that all was well, even if their father would not be present for them. But now, I look at you like a curse upon my life. You have allowed yourself to be corrupted outside our marriage, and I can no longer offer you salvation for your selfishness…”

“What would you have me do?”

You laughed mockingly at his question. Instead of providing a proper answer, you only glared further into his good eye.

“Please,” Aemond gritted his teeth, hating that he allowed himself to beg an answer from you, “Just tell me what I should do!”

“I can not simply tell you what to do. That would be to easy - what lesson would you have learned?” You shook your head and a shuddering breath escaped you.

“You have to make a choice, Aemond,” Your hand gripped his wrist, forcing him to remain attentive to your words, “Either you atone for the sin your committed and the hurt you’ve caused or you reside in Harrenhal for the rest of your days…”

“This is a choice only you can make — a wife or a witch?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n: I am considering making a follow-up to this one-shot, a blurb about the outcome of the options that Aemond has... maybe...

#mattie writes #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #prince aemond targaryen #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd angst #alys rivers #aemond targaryen x wife!reader #aemond targaryen x alys #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon aemond #Aegon II Targaryen #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen one shot

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sluttysanemi · 2 months

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Hiiii I wanted to ask if I could get a nude sending fanfic cause I rarely see any like Giyuu x reader sending nudes please!! I would be on my knees begging 😞

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

PHOTOS

c/w: suggestive / smut ,, subtle masturbation, sending nudes, established relationship

a/n: ok slut nation. i lied. there was no sanemi snippet. I WAS TIRED!!! and it was my birthday on the 20th, so sorry 4 the late post!

a quick clear-up as well, because someone else had asked, i dont think i'll do nsfw of minors, even aged up. it's jst a bit.. iffy? you know what i mean? cuz u know, what's the age in which its wrong to write nsfw 4 the character, even if its aged up? its sort of hard to explain.. sorry!

An unexpected notification in the midst of silence. Giyuu glances upwards, along his phone, pleased to see your note.

You and Tomioka had recently engaged in a long-distance romance, whilst you had traveled to visit family. Despite the physical distance, the connection with Giyuu stood tightly, as you both took effort to communicate regularly. The prospect of rejoining swelled his heart with delight.

He swiftly taps the rectangular frame of the notification, opening your conversation.

Your intimacy was potent, with many rekindling sceneries of passion within the sheets. This distance had interrupted their romantic endeavors, which rationally irked you both.

You missed one another- both sensually yet emotionally. You wanted little else than to relive those driven moments again.

Your ravenous instincts had triumphed across your thoughts, and you had craved the surge of dopamine that Giyuu delivered.

He was surprised, as he witnessed the content you had sent.

In the dank silence of his room, with his phone a single dimly lit source of light, an energy of lust envelopes his senses, as he gazes at your picture.

His mind becomes graphic, with erotic detail, as he stares at your nude body. His eyes trail over, his thoughts recalling the sensation of your physique whilst you had been together.

He watches your breast, your delicate nipple pointed. The curved shape of your ass, the soft plush of your skin addictive to knead.

His eyes scanned over your text, as you detailed how you had missed him. He knew.

His cheeks tinge in color, as his shaft begins to thicken within the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

His hands carefully trail to his stiffening bulge, palming and caressing in a forlorn attempt to relieve himself. His brows knit closely, as his breath began to stream in uneven layers.

You'd caused something to him. You struck him harshly. You always could. It was the influence you had over him. Despite his best initiatives, he could never withstand your effect. Your impact on him was undeniable and yet so pleasurable.

He gently tugs on the waistband of his clothing, allowing his cock to spring upwards eagerly.

He needed to show your lasting effects on him.

He holds the base of his shaft, his lips quivering as his fingertips grasp the pulsing veins of his eager dick.

Angling his phone near it, he captures a picture of his spilling shaft, illustrating its eager state.

He promptly sends it to you, as he had clarified how much he misses you. Needs you.

He expresses a longing for your presence, desiring deeply, lecherously, to see you once more. His message conveys an urgent desire for your company.

And God, he couldn’t wait to feel your cunt around him again.

To watch your gentle face retort in thrill as he would please you over and over, endlessly.

It tortured him.

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im-not-corrupted · 10 months

Text

A sequel to this Dreamling fic here, though this can be read as a standalone. Written for @merry-moody-missy, who requested I write more and get the two of them together. Also, thanks to @samsalami66, who gave me a prompt (that felt more like a fic outline, but that’s great too XD) for this fic.

Edit: Part one and two are now on Ao3!

--------

Dream came to him more often, after that.

Once a month became once a fortnight. He wasn’t half as reserved these days as he typically was; if anything, he seemed to be even more comfortable in Hob’s presence, now. It was rather wonderful to witness for Hob, who, for the longest time, knew Dream only as his distant Stranger. A far star, unreachable. A sun for him to orbit, but a sun who would only bless him with light once a century.

Every two weeks, Dream appeared beside him at some point in the day. It didn’t matter where; he’d often appear at the back of Hob’s classes while he was working, entirely unnoticed by his students. Or he would materialise next to him and fall into step as Hob walked home, content to follow in silence, or to listen as Hob recounted his day.

The first time he did that, stepping up next to Hob when the space beside him had been previously empty—well, the first time scared him half to death, naturally. That simply wasn’t the kind of thing one grew to expect, even after living for nearly seven centuries.

(He didn’t care. In fact, Hob looked upon that day with fondness, a grin upon his face, because that was the first time he’d heard Dream laugh.

He didn’t have a particular lovely laugh. It wasn’t melodic, or sweet. It wasn’t the kind of thing you expected to be a sound of joy at all, really—if Hob tried his best, he’d only be able to describe it as an awful, croaking thing, terrifying and perhaps the least lovely thing he’d heard before—but Hob didn’t care at all, because Dream laughed.

Loudly, and without abandon. Rosebud lips had spread wide in a smile that stole Hob’s heart entirely, and the joy in his eyes was unmatched. There, stood in the middle of a London street with laughter in his face and sunlight catching his stray hairs—well, he was beautiful, and Hob found himself falling.)

(No. No, that wasn’t true. He found himself falling for Dream a long time ago. He was already so far gone for him; hearing him laugh had merely made him fall further, and he hadn’t known such a thing was possible.)

Today, Dream appeared in his apartment—only, this time, he did so before Hob was about to sleep.

Which…wasn’t a problem. Not at all. Sleep didn’t matter, not when Dream was there. He would gladly drop anything and everything, if Dream wanted him to. If his friend wanted his time and his energy. All of it was his anyway; he needed only to ask.

(And he did ask, these days. Indirectly, naturally—Matthew somehow gained the job of messenger raven, and would often fly to the Waking world for the sole purpose of seeing Hob and delivering a message.

The message was usually short. A quick, Boss asks if you’re free today?, and Hob would reply, Let him know I am before quickly cancelling his plans.

Dream still didn’t ask for what he needed. But he still asked, in a round-about Dream kind of way, and Hob? Hob was proud of him. He remembered all too easily the pain on his face when he thought he burdened Hob with his affections; he could only imagine what it took for his friend to be able to ask whether he was busy or not, after that.)

“Dream,” he said, blinking at the being who materialised at the foot of his bed. To his credit, his heart didn’t so much as stutter, proof that he was used to Dream simply appearing out of nowhere. Proof that they truly were friends, now, after so many centuries of him wanting exactly that.

(They were friends. He couldn’t quite believe it, sometimes. They were friends, and Dream didn’t shy away from that title when Hob gave it to him. If anything, he seemed proud of it, like the title of ‘friend’ was an honour.)

(It certainly was for Hob, at least, so he understood that.)

Dream stared at him for a moment, blinking slowly, cat-like. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see Hob underneath his duvet, which—seemed fair. He still didn’t have much of a clue what Dream was, for it didn’t matter, but he knew now that it had to do with a place called the Dreaming—his realm, which certainly gave Hob a bit of an existential crisis the first time he heard that—and sleep. Perhaps he had a second sense for when people were about to sleep. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing Hob had seen him do.

”Hob,” he said, then frowned. Some of that old hesitance kept him from saying much else for a moment, but he eventually asked, “I did not think…Is this a bad time?”

Progress, Hob thought, and shot a grin in his friend’s direction. Dream was making progress, small and still so, so important, and he was simply glad to be a part of it. “Not at all,” he promised, because this was Dream. Dream, who owned his heart entirely by this point, who Hob would gladly dedicate every waking moment of his days to if he could. If his friend would appreciate that, if he would even want that.

That hesitance held him in place for a second longer, but that was all. His floor-length, high-collared coat disappeared, shadow replacing the impossibly soft material of it before vanishing entirely, leaving Dream in a long-sleeved top (black, of course) that felt so casual on him.

(He’d seen Dream without his coat many times before, now. Another testament to the fact that Dream felt comfortable—safe, even—with him. It still startled him, though, and it never failed to make warmth bloom behind his ribs. This—this vulnerability, his desire to abandon armour when with Hob—was another display of trust, and Hob wouldn’t get over that any time soon.

Dream trusted him. It was a fragile thing, that trust, not at all suited for Hob’s bloodied and calloused hands. He’d had many years to practise gentleness, though, and he used it with this; with Dream’s trust, a gift offered so painstakingly.)

And then Dream was moving, climbing onto the bed and tucking himself into Hob’s side. One half of his body ended up entirely on top of Hob’s, his face buried into the crook of his neck, and let out a soft, contented sigh.

It tickled the skin of his neck a little, but Hob hardly cared. How could he, when he turned his head to the side and found himself face to face with Dream’s feather-soft hair, when Dream’s arm came to wrap around his waist?

He chuckled softly. His heart felt so full, all of a sudden, his fondness for this strange and lovely creature lay on top of him almost overwhelming. There wasn’t enough room behind his rib cage for it all, for the adoration pouring from his heart in waves. He brushed his fingers through Dream’s feather-soft hair, the smile on his face growing wider as his friend burrowed further into him, and, without thinking, he said gently, “Yeah, dove, I love you too. And I missed you dearly.”

Missed you dearly wasn’t quite enough. It didn’t explain the way he missed Dream like an ache, in those two weeks he was off doing whatever the ruler of an entire realm did. But it was true enough, so he let the words hang in the air. Dream deserved to know he was missed when he wasn’t around; deserved to know Hob thought about him, even in the louder moments where his head was so busy. Missed you dearly didn’t quite fit, but it said enough.

It was only when Dream’s head snapped up in a movement faster than anything Hob had seen from him before, ocean eyes almost comically wide and lips parted slightly, that Hob realised what he said.

I love you too. It wasn’t a lie. He didn’t think he was capable of that, even subconsciously, when it came to Dream. Always, his heart has been laid bare before him, every little thing it contained inside free for his viewing. Hob made little attempt to keep it hidden. His fondness, his adoration, always slipped into his voice unbidden. Experience told him every attempt to mask it would fall short; there was simply too much to keep it trapped behind his ribs. It was always his friend’s choice whether or not he took it at face value or not.

He did love Dream. Loved him like he loved life; endlessly, with more depth than he thought himself capable of putting into words. Though he wasn’t much of a poet, he would try, if Dream asked that of him. He would do much for his dearest friend, his Stranger, if only he asked.

”Love me,” Dream murmured softly. He sounded almost disbelieving, as though he hadn’t thought of himself as something able to be loved. That thought rang too true for Hob’s comfort; he had to stop himself from holding Dream closer, unwilling to make him uncomfortable in an attempt to offer comfort. “You have. Said this before.”

Not in quite so many words, Hob thought, but yes. He had. Never apologise for wanting to be loved, he told Dream, and that was another admittance in and of itself, wasn’t it? It was an I love you, and I’m happy to do so, and a request; Let me love you, I want, it was always yours anyway.

Fear coiled in his stomach, a poison almost potent enough to stop him from answering entirely. But he met Dream’s gaze and saw the impression of new stars within them; he met his eyes and saw a fragile kind of hope. Fear or not, his dearest friend deserved to know he was loved.

“Yes,” he answered gently. Perhaps he’d run, now, leave Hob as he had in 1889. That, Hob thought, would be alright. It’d hurt, but it’d be alright. Dream would come back to him, just as he had once every month before, and now every fortnight. That knowledge was just enough to make the worst of that fear melt away, and to loosen his tongue. “I love you dearly. With everything I am. Doesn’t have to change anything if you don’t want it to—I don’t want anything from you that you aren’t willing to give, I promise you that.”

A furrow appeared between his friend’s brow. That hope didn’t leave his eyes, even despite the confusion that joined it. “Why would you tell me this, then, if you did not want reciprocation from me?”

Hob ached, suddenly, at the confusion in Dream’s voice. Had nobody loved him without expectation before? Had nobody loved him simply for the sake of loving him, because they couldn’t do anything else? “Let me rephrase,” he said gently, and he sat up. Dream frowned further at being disturbed, though said frown disappeared fast enough when Hob cupped his face. “I would kill to have you feel the same for me. It would be so many centuries of pining resolved in a mere moment; I would love for nothing more than you to love me back. But I don’t expect you to. I didn’t tell you I love you expecting you to say the same. I told you I love you simply because you deserve to hear it; nothing more, nothing less.”

Silence hung heavy between them for a moment, in which Dream simply stared at him without moving a muscle at all and Hob grew increasingly conscious about the fact that he was still very much holding Dream’s face in his hands.

He was about ready to let go, no doubt followed by an awkward apology, but Dream said slowly, “You are. A strange creature, Hob Gadling. I continuously find myself baffled by you.”

Quietly, Hob laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment then, love.” His hands fell from Dream’s face, only for his friend to catch them by his wrists.

”And,” Dream continued, slow and stilted, and Hob froze. Dream’s skin against his, not quite a normal body temperature, was different when initiated by Dream himself. It meant more, somehow. “And. You are not alone. In your feelings.”

Hob was fairly sure his heart stopped in his chest at that. Just for a moment. In his defence, this moment did feel particularly heart stopping. Important enough to fling his own world off its axis.

When he found himself capable of thought again, he asked, barely able to contain the joy pouring from his heart in waves, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Dream?”

”I am saying,” he said heavily, severely, like this moment was as important to him as it was to Hob, “that I adore you, Hob Gadling. That you are a comfort I did not expect to find. That your arms are a place of safety, that I find comfort in your presence, that you are a fresh breath of air after so long spent underwater. I am saying that your continued friendship is an honour, one I am eternally grateful for; I am saying that you baffle me entirely, your joy for life and your willingness to love me, and that love is too small a term to label the depths of my feelings towards you, but it is enough for now.”

Hob stared at him, wide-eyed. His heart spilled over, everything it contained too much, and all of it Dream’s. All of it, shared by Dream, too. “Christ, love,” he said, his voice light with elation. A sob caught in his chest as his hand, still held by the wrist in Dream’s grasp, came up to play with the raven hair at the nape of his friend’s neck, as he pulled Dream into a kiss.

It was gentle. Barely a hint of pressure at all, for fear he’d perhaps misunderstood. But Dream made a noise against his lips, surprised yet pleased, and kisses back eagerly, an answer to a question Hob didn’t realise he’d asked.

Eventually, though everything in him screamed against it, too lost in the sensation of Dream’s mouth against his own and Dream’s hands clutching at the thin top he wore for bed, he pulled back for breath. Dream gazed at him, eyes so dark they were almost black. Hob could see the stars so clearly, now, and found himself breathless for another reason entirely.

Awed, he said, ”You’re beautiful.” His thumb stroked the skin underneath Dream’s eye, reverent and worshipful, and Dream practically preened.

At some point, he lay back down, taking his friend—Dream, his Stranger, who he had loved for centuries and who loved him in return—with him. He tucked himself against Hob’s side, knee wedges between Hob’s legs and an arm thrown over his waist. The duvet was pulled over up to both their shoulders, and Hob let himself kiss the crown of his head.

He needed to sleep. He was tired, his head a little foggy. But elation kept his chest light, and there was enough joy in his veins to last a lifetime. They’d have to talk tomorrow, Hob knew that, but they’d figure that out.

For now, this—this was enough. More than enough.

”I love you,” he said again. His eyes slipped shut.

Sleep would come difficult, with the way his heart felt so full, but that was alright. A small price to pay for the way Dream shifted against him before pressing feather-soft lips against his cheek, whispering, “And I you, beloved,” before settling back in place again.

Hob slept eventually. And when he did, he dreamt of Dream.

#the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream/hob #the sandman netflix #eris writes things #my fic #dreamling fic

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howlingday · 7 days

Text

Raven: If you need to contact us, stop by here and ask for me. One of the employees will deliver a message to me.

Yang: Is this... a girl bar?

Raven: The tribe has many outlets disguised as legitimate covers.

Yang: ...Sure thing~!

Yang: (Thinking) I'm gonna drink on her tab~!.

Raven: (Thinking) She's clearly thinking about drinking on my tab.

#rwby #daemons of the shadow realm #yang xiao long #raven branwen

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year

Text

The Challenge {2/2}

Aemond Targaryen x fem!bladesmith!reader Summary: It is time to deliver the sword to the prince. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, jousting, smut, caught in the act WC: 3.9k

HOTD Masterlist || Part One || Part Two

Two weeks passed quickly as you worked tirelessly on Prince Aemond’s sword.

You had not heard from him since he left that morning and you were not sure whether or not you had expected him to send a message of some kind before you made the journey to King’s Landing. You couldn’t deny you were a little disappointed he hadn’t sent a raven - if for no other reason than to check in on the progress of your work.

Nevertheless, you had gone above and beyond to create the masterpiece before you.

It was by far the most expensive piece you had invested in and the twin sapphires alone had cost a small fortune but after being inset into the eyes of the dragon on the pommel you knew it was worth it.

The sword was made of manganese steel imported from Dothraki, which was far lighter than iron, and had been folded with carbon dozens of times over to increase the tensile strength of the metal. The fierce dragon had been carved into the manganese steel and then dipped in gold but the snarling teeth were made of white gold and polished to perfection.

There was no way to mistake this for any common blade and it was truly fit for royalty.

A local leatherworker had taken the measurements of the sword and made a scabbard that would protect it while it was not in use and you slid the sword into the sheath before locking it into a travel box.

“Your carriage is ready to leave, mistress,” Gerry said after knocking at your bedroom door. “Oh, you look lovely.”

The dress was stiff and uncomfortable and you wished you could travel in more sedate clothes but in public such a scandal could lead to incarceration and that would be bad for business. The other option was to wear the heavy cloaks of your work attire but even after a thorough washing they never smelt or looked very pleasant.

“I look like a meringue,” you murmured, shrugging the puffy sleeves that capped just above your elbow.

“Nonsense,” Gerry said with a giggle, taking it upon herself to straighten the layers of skirts so they hung neatly. “The prince will be lost for words, mistress.”

You narrowed your eyes at your housemaid. “What makes you say that?”

She couldn’t suppress the smile that she tried to hide behind her hand and shook her head. “The girls talk, mistress. Kasia and Tiff heard from Kyron, the stable boy, that the prince and his guard were arguing before they left.”

You shouldn't have been interested in gossip but you were leaning forward in anticipation as her smile grew. Finally you lost patience and huffed as she forced you to ask, “Arguing about what?”

“You, of course.”

“Me?”

“Aye, the prince confessed he had fallen to temptation of the flesh. That had to be you, right, mistress,” she said with a wink. “I imagine his highness has a date with the High Septon on his return. You were careful, right?”

You rolled your eyes and gave a droll nod. “Yes, mother.”

“Don’t bite my head off, I promised your ma I would watch over you, bless her soul. Now be on your way, it is a long ride.”

Kasia was already waiting at the front of the house with the carriage and you climbed into the cab before making space for her. You would have preferred for Gerry to make the three day journey with you but she wasn’t comfortable going anywhere near the capital, and you didn’t pry to find out why.

The carriage driver whipped the reins and you jostled with the movement, eventually falling into a routine sway as the horses ambled along the road that would take you south to King's Landing.

The noise of the crowd was unlike anything you had heard and the musicians playing an upbeat tune only added to the cacophony. Peddlers worked the stands around the stadium, selling their merchandise to the viewers, while food stalls were erected outside with the scent of their goods almost eradicating the smell from the horse stables beyond.

Finding space on a bench seat, you pulled Kasia down beside you and stilled her leg that kept bouncing excitedly with every match that went by. You had arrived later than expected when the wheel of the carriage broke outside of Rosby and so far Ser Criston hadn’t lost a match in both jousting and sword fighting, but you were hoping to catch the next one.

You were beginning to tire of the harsh sun that beat down, the temperature enough to rival your workshop, and ready to find some solace in the shade when the next trumpets fared for the jousting final.

“Mistress, that is Prince Jacaerys,” Kasia gasped as she pointed to the house flag that had been raised and a chestnut steed trotted into the lists with a helmeted rider upon its back. “Who would dare strike a prince?”

You had an inkling as you looked to the other side of the arena and saw the flag of House Cole being draped onto the rung. “Unbelievable.”

A white stallion leisurely walked into the lists and you were the only one who wasn’t surprised to see Prince Aemond riding atop with his helmet tucked under his arm. Whispers began to spread along the rows of viewers as they realised it had been the One-Eyed Prince fighting under his knight’s banner the entire time.

“What is the meaning of this, Aemond?” King Viserys asked as he rose slowly from the royal box.

“It was pointed out that fighting as a prince may lead my opponents to go easy on me, and I would not have that shame,” he said with a smirk thrown Jacaerys’ way. “That need not be a problem now will it, nephew?”

Prince Jacaerys pushed his visor up over his helmet and dark hair tumbled out to frame his face. Even from so far away you could see his brown eyes were full of disdain and his jaw was clenched as he spoke through his teeth, “No problem, Uncle.”

It would have been embarrassing should he have said otherwise, he would have been practically admitting he only reached the finals because of his royal title whether or not it was true.

“Well played,” you chuckled to yourself as you watched Prince Aemond place his helmet on his head and shove a gloved hand out for his steward to give him the lance.

In the royal box the mothers, Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenrya, shot to their feet and rushed to the edge balustrade with concern etched into their faces. The look they shared both held reprehension for the other and you briefly wondered what it was about before a cheer erupted and your attention was brought back to the match.

The princes spurred their horses forward with a kick of the stirrups and you leaned forward in your seat with the rest of the crowd.

There was not a whisper in the air as anticipation held the spectators in silent suspension. To cheer either prince would be to insult the other so not a sound was made.

The horses reached the fence and raced towards each other with thundering hoofbeats. The distance narrowed and no one took a breath as they lowered their lances, the blunt tips aimed at the other.

From your vantage point in the stands you could see how Prince Aemond’s head was turned far more than Prince Jacaerys’ to account for the lost vision in his left eye but his aim was still well positioned. With the extra height he had over his nephew, Aemond’s reach was greater and his lance smashed into the Velaryon’s chest, glancing off the armour and under the shoulder plate.

A collective wince hissed across the crowd and the younger prince screamed as he was thrown from his horse. The scream was echoed by his mother and Princess Rhaenyra rushed from the royal box to check on his welfare along with the maesters. At least given the painful squirming on the ground, he was certainly alive.

Prince Aemond tore his helmet off and his silver hair shimmered in the brutal sunlight, it was almost too bright to look at directly but even with the glare there was no hiding the smirk on his face. Dismounting to the dirt, he sauntered over to his nephew and dropped to one knee beside him, his hand hovering over the wound he had dealt.

How you wished to be close enough to hear what he said, because although he looked like he was offering condolences there was no mistaking the disdain on his face or the amusement when Jacaerys weakly tried to push him away.

Looking up, Aemond saw his half sister nearing and rose to his feet, swiftly leaving the arena without a care for the splatterings of polite clapping for his win.

“That is my queue,” you said to Kasia as you grabbed the boxed sword from where you had kept it safely hidden beneath your skirts and rose to your feet. “I shall see you back at the inn for dinner.”

It wasn’t difficult to find Prince Aemond with his hair like a beacon. Everyone gave him a wide berth in the streets except for his trusted knight who noticed your approach first and sighed heavily. It was the sigh that caught Aemond’s attention and he turned to see what had elicited the annoyed sound from his friend.

The surefooted prince stumbled as he spotted you and his eye travelled your body from head to toe twice before he blinked and recovered.

“I almost didn’t recognise you,” he admitted and nodded his head to Ser Criston. “You may leave, I am sure my mother will want to accost you for the role you played today.”

The white cloak knight didn’t look pleased but nodded back before casting a glance your way and shaking his head. You couldn’t help but send him a sweet smile and bat your lashes at him with a dainty wave of your fingers, earning a chuff of a laugh from the prince.

“Blessed name day, my prince,” you greeted him when you were alone and once more walking towards the Red Keep. You held the box out for him, grateful you no longer had to lug it around the city. “As requested.”

“Do you have a sister?” he asked, taking it from your hands and tucking it under one arm. “You look rather similar to a woman I met a few weeks ago, though she was a little more scrappy and rather filthy.”

“Ha ha,” you exaggerated with a roll of your eyes. “Here I thought you were a prince but I have been fooled by a court jester. Funny how one and two are the same.”

“There she is.” He grinned and opened a door that led to a courtyard but the small joy he had disappeared in the company of the few people milling about. They shifted uncomfortably in his presence and the place fell silent until he had passed under an archway and turned down a corridor.

You were utterly lost by the many turns it took to come to the room he eventually led you, closing the door behind with a click of the lock.

The box thudded as he placed it on a writing desk that was covered with books and letters with the dragon crest drawn upon. They couldn’t have been important as he shoved them aside and unlatched the lid.

“Congratulations on your win,” you said as he opened the reward. “You must be proud.”

“I don’t give a shit about tourneys,” Prince Aemond retorted as he unsheathed the sword before twirling it in his hands. “I just wanted to see the look on that bastard's face when he lost.”

He continued to inspect the weapon, staring down its length to ensure it was straight before pricking his finger on the tip to test how sharp it was. He gave a satisfied hum at the conclusion and you bit your lip at the reminder of the similar sounds he had made.

Finally he brought the pommel closer and peered at the intricate dragon with intense scrutiny. “Incredible.”

“I’m almost reluctant to part ways with it,” you teased and he gripped the handle tighter as if he were prepared to fight you for it. “But you seem rather attached already and I’m feeling charitable.”

“How generous of you.” He rolled his eye and sheathed the sword before buckling the scabbard to his belt and pointing to a large purse on the table. “I suppose that means I can return that small fortune to the coffers then.”

You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m not that charitable.”

Unaccustomed to wearing dresses, you hadn’t realised crossing your arms had pushed your breasts up dangerously high and they were barely contained by the corset. It was only the lingering stare of the prince and the widening of his eye that drew your attention down where he was fixated.

“Not one raven, not even a ‘hello, how have you been?’” you tutted and ran your fingertips teasingly over the skin of your bosom. “I should be insulted.”

His eye followed the movement hungrily. “You have the attention of a prince, insulted is not the word that comes to mind.” One long stride closed the distance and you craned your head back to hold his stare.

“Did you confess your sins to the Septon?” you had to know as you felt the heat of his armour warming your skin. “Did you repent for the sordid touch?”

“I did. And I swore I would banish all thoughts of you from my mind.” He swallowed deeply and reached for the bowtie that held the laces of your corset together. “I did so knowing it was a lie.”

You cursed under your breath as his words affected you more than you expected and you covered his hand with yours, guiding it to the delicate laces so he would hurry up and free you from the constraints of the dress. You could finally breathe liberally and you inhaled deeply as the heavy materials fell to the floor but there wasn’t time to waste as you reached for his armour.

Your deft fingers made quick work of the buckles and Aemond caught the heavy plates before they could clatter to the floor, instead depositing them to the side where they wouldn’t cause an accident.

Next went his damp clothes, the material strewn across the room as you wrapped each layer like a gift - eager to get to the prize that waited beneath.

“I’ve heard men fuck like a lion after fighting in a tourney, like the sweat gets their blood pumping,” you stated as you push him into the chair in front of his desk and straddled his lap.

He grabbed your hips and lined himself up with your entrance, pulling up down his length until you couldn’t take anymore and gasped at the fullness. He still wasn’t done, not when he wanted to tease you with more than his body, his lips following the line of your jaw until he reached your ear and whispered, “Lions are nothing compared to a dragon.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders as you held on tight and rolled your hips to take your pleasure from him. He let you have your moment, enjoying the warmth of your cunt as it tightened around him and the press of your breasts to his skin, but then he wanted to chase his own ecstasy and gripped your hips. His arms should have been weak and trembling from the day spent fighting but they were still strong as he guided you up and down his cock.

“Fuck, Aemond, you feel so good.”

“Hmm,” he growled in your ear, “I am your prince.”

“You can be my prince out there but right now you are just a man, now fuck me like one.”

In an instant you were empty and he was on his feet, spinning you around and bending you over his desk. The void you were missing was filled with one rough thrust and his hand slapped over your mouth to muffle the cry of dark pleasure that erupted.

Gone was the restraint, gone was the control. Prince Aemond was unleashed.

The wood cut into your hips and his ink pot spilled, books tumbled to the floor and the armour resting against the table leg toppled over. The clatter of metal was like the herald bells being struck and shouts came from outside the door.

“Fuck,” Aemond growled at the knock that quickly followed. “Go away.”

“My prince, it is your mother,” Ser Criston called out.

“Fuck.” This time the sound wasn’t from frustration but fear and he pulled out in a rush to find his clothes scattered around the room. “Give me a minute.”

“Cole, move,” a surprisingly stern order came from a gentle feminine voice and the lock on the door was opened from the outside before the door swung open.

“Mother,” Aemond greeted quietly as he covered his manhood and bowed his head.

“I expect this unbecoming behaviour from your brother but,” she sighed dramatically and Aemond’s head dipped further at the disappointment radiating from his mother, “not my sweet Aemond.”

You coughed a laugh and covered your mouth as the sound drew her attention to you. You didn’t have enough hands to cover your nakedness and your dress was inconveniently in a head at her feet.

“Who are you?”

“I’m no one, your highness,” you said as you shifted on your feet and tried to shimmy across to hide behind the prince.

“Her name is Y/N,” Ser Criston said without even stepping into the room.

“The bladesmith you visited, who is also the daughter of the metal merchant?” she confirmed as she took a second look at you before turning her back. “Cover yourselves.”

“Yes, mother.” Aemond grabbed your dress first and tossed it with more force than necessary before swiping his own undershorts up from the floor. “I will go to the Sept and confess.”

“Don’t bother,” Alicent scoffed with a toss of her head. “You are not contrite. No, I have another way for you to repent and save your honour.”

It was far harder to get the dress back on than it was to get off, especially since it had taken the help of Kasia last time. You were still busy trying to thread the laces back through the eyelets when the Queen dropped the bomb.

“You will wed her, Aemond. I won’t have any more shame on this house.”

“Mother,” Aemond interrupted but she held up a hand to silence him, something that wasn’t going to stop you.

“Beg your pardon, majesty, but fuck that. I’ll take a vow of silence and be on my way out of this dreadful city.”

“Silence? From you?” she said with a humourless laugh. “If the people weren't still watching the tourney the entire residence would have heard your filth. No, I’ve made up my mind.”

“More like lost it,” you uttered before Aemond pinned you with a glare that had you closing your mouth once again.

“Cole, make sure my son’s betrothed finds her way to her own room. Alone.” With that she departed and Aemond’s posture slumped.

The moment she was out of hearing range you turned to him. “I’m serious, I’m not marrying you, or anyone for that matter.”

“I don’t believe we have a choice.”

“I do.” You tied a knot in the lace just enough to be sure it wouldn’t suddenly come apart as you stormed out of the room and straight into that bothersome guard. “Move.” Ser Criston looked at the prince but you snapped your fingers in front of his face. “I’m talking to you, so don’t look at him.”

“Let her pass,” Aemond said and your head spun incredulously towards him to find him already dressed. “I’ll escort her.”

“To the ladies wing?” he asked as he moved aside and let you through.

“To the stables.” Aemond caught your arm and turned away from his guard to head in the other direction. “I’ll not marry a stranger because I wanted to wet my prick.”

“How uncouth,” you teased as you hurried to match his pace through the Red Keep. “Such a filthy mouth, Prince Aemond.”

He growled as he pushed you against the cold stone wall and caged you between his arms, his erection hard against your hip through the layers of cloth separating you. “Now is not the time to tease me.”

“Yeah?” you pushed back, grinding yourself shamelessly against him in the empty hall. “Or what?”

Aemond’s fist hit the stone with a groan before his hand circled your wrist and tugged you with a renewed pace. “You were born of the Seven Hells, I swear.”

“What makes you say that, my prince?” I asked sweetly. “My devilish good looks or what was it my stable boy overheard…oh yes, my tempting flesh?”

Aemond opened a door and the irritating smell of stale dust told you the storage room was not often used before he pushed you inside and closed the door behind him. “This is the last time,” he promised himself as he bunched the material of your skirt up over your waist and freed himself from his trousers.

You knew you would miss the feeling of him stretching your cunt with each thrust and the way he stroked your walls until they clenched around him. None of your past lovers had been able to fill you quite like he did, or take your attitude either.

“You can always visit me,” you offered in a moment of weakness as the tension of the oncoming orgasm built, “when your sword needs taking care of.”

The sounds of your bodies slapping together filled the room and the table you were sitting upon rocked as Aemond filled the space between your legs. His hand dropped your skirts so he could cradle your face, his thumb tracing your lips. “The bladesmiths here will suffice.”

“I wasn’t talking about that sword.” You nipped at his thumb and smirked, feeling him react instantly as he rutted harder against you. Your legs wrapped around his and your hands slipped under his shirt as you pulled him closer, chasing the high that was cresting inside you.

Your orgasm erased your ability to think and your body jerked as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. The feel of your cunt pulsing around him tipped the prince over the edge and he released a shuddering breath as he spilled himself within you.

There was no time to enjoy the afterglow and Aemond tucked himself back into his trousers before pulling your skirt down over your legs that were still dangling off the table.

“I doubt my mother will let me leave the keep for a while after this,” he said as he helped you off the table and onto shaking legs.

“Do you always do what your mother says?” You asked him, fixing one of the clasps of his vest that had come undone.

“Don’t.”

Your lips twitched as you saw the fire in his eye. “Don’t what, my prince?”

“Don’t challenge me.”

“Afraid to lose?”

He chuckled and caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His teeth bared as he leaned closer and his silver hair brushed your shoulder while his hot breath kissed your skin.

“You should know by now…I never lose.”

Tagging: @hopebaker , @padfooteyes , @fan-goddess , @whitefang1919 , @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed , @let-love-bleeds-red , @raven1234321

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond smut #aemond imagine #hotd fanfic

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wol-fica · 1 year

Text

-𝔹𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕤-

parings - wednesdayaddams x fem!reader

summary - You and Wednesday finally move in together after your wedding a few weeks prior; chaos ensues

warnings - fluff!! Such a lovey couple <3

an - aim was to write an older wednesday in her 20’s who has matured her emotions much more.

——————

July 13th, 2023

“Oh, yeah that bed goes into the guest bedroom.” You said, pointing up the stairs for the furniture worker.

It was a wonderful summer day, two weeks after you had officially tied the knot with your beloved girl. The wedding was everything you had wished and worked for, it was perfect.

Wednesday was not one to wear white, hence why she was decked out in a stunning spider-webbed black dress that hugged her curves perfectly. She was absolutely breathtaking when she descended down the aisle towards you, she encapsulated your heart and soul, and you didn’t give a damn.

“Y/N.” Your name was softly called from the direction of the kitchen, snapping you out of your memory.

“Coming!” You replied, hurrying down from the second floor to the first.

You made your way past the living room, it’s large windows looking out into the fog-coated valley that lay below your over-the-cliff mansion. Your wife insisted on having a large expanse to live in as she had much money to spend and wanted your lives to be as relaxed and luxurious as possible. After passing the walk in pantry and the two full bathrooms by the entrance, you finally entered the kitchen.

There, leaned up against the kitchen island, was your exceedingly beautiful partner in her horrifyingly perfect state. She was dressed in black ripped jeans, some black combat boots, and a large white and black stripped hoodie that made her look incredibly pocket sized.

You smiled before sliding up next to her, your arm snaking around her waist as you looked down to see what she was looking at.

“Some decor?” You questioned, picking up a framed photo of the two of you when you were at Nevermore together.

“Maybe.” Wednesday replied, turning her face up so she could press a kiss to your jaw, “I’m stuck if we should hang them or just set them on tables and shelves.”

You pondered for a moment, glancing around at your bare walls.

“Either way works for me.”

“I requested you for a decision, not to be unhelpful.”

You chuckled, pressing your nose into Wednesday’s cheek. She smelled forestry, like hickory and pine, and felt oh so soft. One of the many things you would never take for granted was being able to hold her.

“Well my raven, decor IS your expertise.” You murmured, leaving a kiss against her freckled skin.

“Mhm.” Wednesday hummed, staring at a few different photos as she decided what to do with them.

Your phone buzzed, causing you to pull back slightly to see who messaged you. A number you didn’t recognize popped up with the words ‘Your food has been delivered’

“Ah, escargot has arrived.” You said as you pulled away from her to retrieve the food.

After a quick thanks to the doordash person and waving to a neighbor, you hurried back to your wife so she could have her snail cuisine.

“Here ya go my raven.” You said, setting the bag down on the counter and giving her cheek another kiss.

“Thank you cara mía.” Wednesday replied as she pulled out two containers, handing one to you after inspecting it, “Your fried bird.”

“Chicken Tenders, my love.” You corrected, popping the lid to devour your favorite food in the world.

As soon as the breaded meat hit your tongue, your eyes rolled back in satisfaction, a small moan leaving your lips.

“If a piece of junk food can make you feel so good then maybe I’m pointless in bed.” Wednesday quipped as she gracefully ate her escargot.

“Now now, don’t be petty.” You said, waving a curly fry at her, “My chicken will never replace my love for the wonder that you are.”

She rolled her eyes, a blush coating her cheeks as she attempted to ignore your flirting. Ever since she fell for met you, you would always have a way to make her feel so loved and appreciated. Originally she hated it, but after a few months of dating you she got used to enjoying it.

“Eat.” She commanded, waving her fork at you in a threatening manner.

You scoffed playfully but complied, stuffing a tender into your mouth just as a bewildered looking mover walked in. He was holding a box labeled ‘Guillotine Test Subjects’ in his hands, which made you start to silently choke on your food after you laughed.

“Uhm, I’m not sure where this should go..” He said, looking at Wednesday with apprehension.

“Second floor, third door on your right. You will see the electric chair in there.” She said, whacking your back with her hand so the food would dislodge in your throat.

“Ah…of course.” He mumbled before hurrying off with a concerned look on his face.

“Stop dying without my permission.” She directed towards you before moving to throw her trash in the garbage.

You coughed, clutching your throat whilst breathing heavily. A hand snaked around your jaw to pull your face upwards for Wednesday’s inspection.

“You’ll be fine.” She noted before giving you a deep kiss on the lips and heading towards the living room to help with furniture placement.

“I sure will be.” You mumbled in daze as you watched her go, a love-drunk smile on your face.

Being married was a blessing, especially since you got to be with the one you pledged with in highschool to die with. You would do anything for her; kill for her, die for her.

Either way, what bliss.

——————-

tag list: @tundra1029 @i984 @king-scarlet @simp4thena @dreifhraniquo29 @fall-08 @efectoangel @alexkolax @k1mba @annalestern @i-love-u15 @wedfan2

i do not give anyone permission to repost or copy my work onto any other platform

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javier-pena · 5 months

Note

hahahaha i know nothing of the chris evans fandom 👀 all i know is that i like looking at him because he’s very pretty —

Kind of the fence CE fan. My best advice is do not “join” the fandom. Watch his work and thrist after his characters. That fandom is an absolute dumpster fire. In my opinion, his last best role was Lloyd Hansen in The Gray Man.

thank you for the warning 👀 but don’t worry - i only have time for so many fandoms haha

and i loved him in the gray man!!!! this feels like such an unpopular opinion but i loved the movie and his look and he was a very fun bad guy

#anon #ravens delivering messages

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waddinghamhannah · 5 days

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ted lasso, dw, and pink!

Love that pink is there honestly 💜

#bruceewayne #ask games #ravens delivering messages 💌

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windsweptinred · 1 year

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"Notable predecessors of the Raven are Lucien, who was the first Raven, and Aristeas of Marmora, Jessamy, Francois, Jehuda, Vivien, Ming-Ti, Dechtire, and Hatshepsut. After Matthew, Daniel enlists Tethys, a deep-sea creature who had dreamed of the surface world,to serve him as a White Raven."

Wait, wait, wait, back up.. Hatshepsut. THE Hatshepsut! Egyptian female Pharoah BAMF. What the flip did that relationship play like?!

Dream: Hatshepsut tell Lucienne...

Hatshepsut: You may address me as Your Majesty or Ruler of Rulers.

Dream: I am your Master..

Hatshepsut: I've felled lesser men then you, you stroppy little sand kitten!

Dream: You will address me with respect!

Hatshepsut: You'll earn it you scant shadow of an obelisk.

Dream:.... Would the Foremost of Noble Ladies be inclined to deliver a message to Lucienne?

Hatshepsut: With greatest possible respects, from one monarch to another... Go f**K yourself... Sir.

Can we get her out of the Raven retirement home to be Hob's raven? The actual savagery of that tag team would be beyond the realms of brilliant!

Dream: Hob, my guiding light. I know I said you could choose any raven. But must it be that one?

Hob: Are you joking Dream, she's a feminist icon. A wonder of her times. It's truly my privilege and honour!

Hatshepsut: Thank you for your humbling words most kind and wise love of the Dream King.

Dream: Greetings Hatshepsut

Hatshepsut: If it isn't the very essence of Ras rays himself! Descended from on high to illuminate my life once more with his bright and glorious disposition.

Dream: (Looks at Hob) Are you smirking?

Hob: (Blatantly smirking) You wound me love. Ofcourse not.

Hatshepsut: (Identical smirk in Egyptian girl boss raven.)

#dreamling #Run for the hills Dream #I bet she loved him in her own way though #Probably killed a demon in his defense once armed only with talons and pure will power #dream of the endless #hob gadling #the sandman #Hatshepsut

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an-aroaces-harem · 1 month

Text

Ellis Twilight Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: I just deepl and google translated my way through this because I wanted to know what’s going on, so there are definitely mistakes but I believe I managed the general gist of the story. Anyway, it’s just a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes. Ikemen Villains belongs to Cybird.

Another note: I know Ikemen Villains is set in victorian London, but I will use the japanese suffixes because I prefer them.

Ellis: Here you go, Jude.

Jude: ... Ah?

Jude-san looked stunned for a moment when he sa Ellis-kun who had brought me with him.

Surprinsingly, he said nothing.

(... Or rather)

Kate: I will accompany you as a fairytale writer, thank you very much.

Jude: ... Tch.

He clicked his tongue at Ellis-kun, who seemed to realize that there was no point in saying anything, and completely ignored my presence.

Ellis: I delivered the offer to the procurement department last night, which is leaving today.

Jude: Of course. If it doesn't arrive first thing in the morning, I'll have to take a pay cut.

(I can't believe you're working for Crown and you're even working for the company. ... You're both so busy.)

I followed alongside Ellis-kun behind Jude-san, silently observing him as not to disturb him.

I found out through observation that ...

Jude-san runs Raven, a diversified trading company ...

... they were doing a wide range of business with branches abrod.

He had a business meeting in the VIP room of one of the best department stores in London, had a meeting with the inspector at the Port pf London ...

The time that follows the two of them around flies by in a flash.

And speaking of the two working together ...

Jude: No deals until this is settled.

Jude: You were dishonest, so you deserved it. If you don't want to get out of debt, then spit up blood and make up for it.

Jude-san has a sharp tongue and a sharp mind ...

It seemed that business partners looked up to him, business rivals envied him, and employees were in awe of him.

On the other hand ...

Ellis: Fine, I'll take care of the rest.

Ellis: I'll teach you what you don't know and we'll fix it together.

Soft-spoken and attentive, Ellis-kun was well-liked both inside and outside the company wherever he went.

(They're kind of brilliant opposites, aren't they?)

In the meantime, the short hand of the Big Ben was about to pass the apex.

Jude: I don't want the writer to follow me. I don't know what they'll say if I show up with extras.

Ellis: Mm-hmm. Okay.

Kate: Thank you for allowing me to accompany you.

Jude: I can't wait to see if I can say the same thing the next time we see each other.

(What does that mean ...?)

I tilt my head, not understanding what he means.

Jude: You brought him here, so you should clean yourself up. I can't touch you.

Ellis: Yeah ... that's the plan.

(... I guess Ellis-kun gets the message.)

Jude-san walks away without so much as a glance at me, and Ellis-kun turns to me.

Ellis: You're tired. I'm sorry I brought you around.

Kate: No, not at all! I am physically strong. I was trained as a mail carrier.

Ellis: I see. I'm glad. ... Then, let's go to the next one.

Ellis: Can you hang out with me just a little bit longer?

I was asked to go out with him a little longer, and here I am ...

(Why are we here ...!?)

It was the post office where I worked.

When I was hesitant because of the crowd, Ellis-kun turned around.

Ellis: What's wrong?

(That's as much as I'd ask ...)

Kate: It's my workplace, so I know a lot of people, but ... is it okay if I meet them more than a month in advance?

Ellis: Victor said there are no restrictions except for going out alone, so why not?

I blinked at the answer, which was more laid back than I expected.

(That's not what a person being monitored says, but ... is that okay??)

Ellis: I have some mail I want to send. I'll go take care of it.

Kate: Yes ...

Moreover, leaving me there, Ellis-kun heads for the counter.

(What if I ask someone for help or something and confidental information is leaked ...)

I can't hide my bewilderment at how carefree the 'surveillance' is.

(At least, I guess that means Ellis-kun trusts that I would never do such a thing.)

(Or rather ...)

(If information is leaked, at that point, everyone who knows about it, including me, will be dealt with ...)

... "Shall we kill her?"

When I remembered that he had made such a remark, without hesitation, I shook my head in a panic ...

Coworker with braids: Kate!?

Kate: Ah.

Coworker with braids: Kate! Hey guys, Kate's here!

At the sound of her voice, our coworkers notice and gather around me.

Coworker with red hair: Kate, how can you suddenly be serving in the palace?

Coworker with black eyes: We were all worried.

(I just suddenly stopped coming to the office, and they are so worried about me.)

(Even more, I can't tell them.)

(And that I don't know if I'll be able to come back safely in a month, ever.)

(But ...)

Not wanting to cause worry, I gulp down my anxiety.

Kate: I'll be fine. But it's only my first day, and I don't know what's right or wrong.

Kate: I'm sure I'll figure it out.

Coworker with braids: I'm sure that a person who has turned Sleigh and Kramer into good costumers will be fine no matter where they go.

Coworker with red hair: I'd miss you if you were suddenly gone.

Kate: I'm ... really sorry about that. It's something beyond my control.

Coworker with braids: Well, it's not every day you get an order from the Palace that you turn it down.

Coworker with blick eyes: But I'm rooting for you, Kate.

Coworker with red hair: Hey, take this!

Coworker with red hair: I bought it for all of us to give to you if you stopped by. I'm glad I was able to give it to you.

Kate: Oh ... so much?

My arms are piled with gifts of this and that.

Blanket, cookies from my favourite store, and a letter from the colleagues.

Kate: Thank you ...

I'm holding my happiness in my arms, but I can't move an inch because I'm afraid I'll drop something if I move ...

Ellis: I'll take it. Give it to me.

The baggage is snatched from next to me.

The eyes of my colleagues turned in unison to Ellis-kun.

Coworker with braids: Who ... is he? Kate's boyfriend?

Coworker with red hair: Oh, I know him! He's the kid who escorts the scary traders.

It was a complete beehive of activity.

Coworker with braids: Kate, please explain your relationship with this handsome man!

Kate: Ummm ... we know each other from our work at the palace, we just met yesterday.

Coworker with braids: Hmm ... that seems a bit close for my taste, though.

Coworker with red hair: I doubt that ...!

Kate: Hey, everybody, just calm down ...

As I'm placating my excited coworkers, Ellis-kun takes the rest of the luggage, all of it, out of my arms.

Ellis: I'm sorry for all the fuss. I'll wait for you outside.

Kate: Oh ... I'm sorry too! I'll be right there.

Ellis: Take your time.

I give a small bow to everyone and see Ellis-kun off to the outside.

(I'm sorry I put you on the spot ...)

Coworker with braids: Marriage before return, huh?

Coworker with red hair: Congratulations!

Kate: I'm telling you, it's not ...!

... The commotion eventually died down when the director's voice came from the back of the room, saying "That's enough of that".

After exchanging a few words with my colleagues, I went outside to find Ellis-kun waiting for me, leaning against a lamppost with his luggage.

(Even from a distance, it's quite a view.)

With his supple body and long arms and legs, he stands out in the city.

Kate: Sorry to keep you waiting.

Ellis: No, not at all. ... You could have talked to them more.

Kate: It's okay! Um, my colleagues made a terribly rude remark ...

Even though I only work with him, they may have made him feel uncomfortable by calling him my boyfriend.

(Something I wish I could apologize for ... Oh, yes.)

Kate: There is a good baguette restaurant near here. Let me treat you there as an apology.

Ellis: ...

His eyes, filled with light, stare at me as if they have found something.

Ellis: I think I understand a little better why you get so many gifts.

Kate: Eh ...?

Holding a large bag full of gifts from my colleagues, Ellis-kun stepped out to me and ...

... he brought his face so close to mine that our foreheads touched.

Ellis: No, you don't have to treat me, but I'm curious about the restaurants you recommend.

(... Ellis-kun, I don't understand what's talking about.)

But surely, his kindness had penetrated my heart.

As evidence, my second meal with Ellis-kun was much more pleasant than the breakfast.

Kate: Wow, it's late ...

When we left the restaurant, dusk was approaching.

Ellis: ... Let's go back to the castle.

Ellis-kun looked out at the cityscape as it was beginning to darken, absentmindedly.

It was the first time I had heard a slightly urgent voice, and I immediately realized that he was excited.

(I'm sorry to keep you up at this hour, but maybe he had plans for the evening.)

Kate: If we go down the alley this way, we can take a little shortcut.

With the knowledge I had acquired as a postwoman, I entered a narrow alley.

Ellis: Ah ...

Ellis: Well, I guess it'll be okay if we're together.

The sun is being blocked out, and the alleyway's growing dim.

It was almost time to get out into the lighted street.

Men in hunting capes: ...

Suddenly, a man appeared to block the way, and I tried to pass him by avoiding him on the side of the road.

(What ...?)

A man stepped forward, but his path was blocked.

Feeling something strange in the air, I turn around and see two men appear from behind me as well.

Man in hunting cape: Jude Jazza's woman?

(Jude-san?)

Kate: No, I'm sorry I'm not ... but who are you?

Man in hunting cape: We'll check the facts later. Catch her.

The three men suddenly took things out of their pockets and attacked.

(What ... eh!?)

Ellis: Kate-san, hold this for me for a moment.

Kate: Wah ...!

Confused, I accept the package containing the gifts from my colleagues.

Ellis-kun pulled out a black-bladed knife, which bounced off the blade of the man in front of the group.

Ellis: It might be a little scary, but it'll be over soon.

(...)

While I am speechless, he is knocking them down one by one, just as he said "It'll be over soon".

He pulled out his knife to counter the blade, and basically just his long arms and legs seemed to suffice.

Ellis: Good job.

The unconscious men were lined up tightly on the shoulder of the road ...

When Ellis-kun's hand touched the top of their heads like a finishing touch ...

... the wrists of the men, still unconscious, snapped together as if in prayer.

Kate: Oh my god ...! How did you do that?

Ellis: When I touch the head, I can detain the wrist like this.

(I just remembered ...)

... a 'cursed' person possesses abilities that ordinary people do not have.

In the back of my head, Roger-san's voice comes back to me.

Kate: Is that ... what Ellis-kun is capable of?

Ellis: Yes. That's right. It's so much easier not to need a rope at times like this.

Ellis-kun came over smiling as if he had finished his work.

He took the package from my arms again.

Ellis: Jude has a lot of enemies everywhere, so he often gets attacked like this.

Ellis: It was unusual for him to have a woman around, so I guess that gave them the wrong idea.

(Resentment ... I see.)

What I can understand is the result of observing the work during the day.

(It must be a tough job at a trading company to be attacked like this on a daily basis.)

Ellis: ... I'm sorry.

Kate: Ellis-kun has nothing to apologize for! Thank you for protecting me.

But Ellis-kun lowered his eyebrows and shook his head.

Ellis: Actually, I could have predicted this. This is what might happen if I took you out.

Ellis: But ... when you found out I was going to work today, you looked worried.

Ellis: I was selfish and got carried away. ... So, I'm sorry.

(Ellis-kun ...)

I know it sounds selfish, but I want you to know that everything you did today was for me ...

I already knew enough.

(The breakfast, the stories he told me about the members of Crown, the fact that he let me accompany him to work ...)

(Maybe, he even took me to the post office.)

Kate: I've been happy all day ... so there's nothing to apologize for.

I smile to tell Ellis-kun that I appreciate his kindness.

Ellis: ... Hm, good.

The smile on Ellis-kun's lips was as warm as the last light of the day ...

Perhaps it was because the approaching darkness made me feel impatient ... I felt a strange stirring in my chest.

When I return to my room, I open the package of gifts from my coworkers.

"Kate, I care about you."

"Please let me know when ..."

The kind words in the letter from my colleague touched my heart deeply.

(I'm glad Ellis-kun took me to the post office so that I could receive this.)

Ellis-kun tried to make me smile, so I feel very happy right now.

I stepped into a different world.

I can't go back to my daily life for a month ...

I was so frightened, and I felt like he was telling me "It's going to be okay."

(I'm feeling more confident than this morning that I can make it through the month.)

(Especially if Ellis-kun is with me.)

... And the next morning, with new determination.

Victor: I heard that Jude's business partner attacked you yesterday?

Kate: Oh, yes, but thanks to Ellis-kun, nothing happened.

Victor: It's a good thing, though ... before the contract expires ...

Victor: That means Crown's confidential information is at risk, too! Isn't that right?

Ellis: Yeah.

Jude: I have a bad feeling about this.

In response to his grumpy voice, Victor plastered a big smile on his face ...

Victor: Good, Jude, Ellis.

Victor: I want you two to be responsible to guard Kate!

(What!?)

Jude: Hah?

Ellis: ... Guard?

#ikemen villains #ikevil #ikemen villains ellis #ellis twilight #resa translates something for once?

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burstfoot · 2 months

Note

Hello there doctor, it's me, operator Phantom. I've become stranded outside of Trimounts, having misplaced my wallet. I need you to wire 300 distinction certificates to the account I have linked below so that I may make it back safely to the landship. Once I have returned, I will pay you back with interest. Thank you.

Ferdinand you scamp! How could I fall for this ruse when Operator Phantom only ever delivers his messages in suspiciously red ink letters carried by ravens? He doesn't even know what a computer is! I'm telling Saria to cut your pay.

#arknights #burstmail

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 10 months

Text

edgar allen poe + twst??

***Spoilers for book 7 part 4!!***

In the latest main story update, Lilia tells us about the princess of the Briar Valley (ie Malleus’s mom) and a fae messenger that went to an human fortress to the east (Malleus’s dad). If you’ll recall, Malleus tells us in present day (in his Birthday Boy vignettes) that his “only living relative” is his grandmother, which implies his parents are gone. The update leaves us on a cliffhanger where Lilia and co. are at the eastern fortress while the humans are launching a surprise attack on the palace where Malleus’s mother resides. It is very possible that she will die as a result of this encounter (for as powerful as she is, the humans greatly outnumber her). His father had gone missing prior to this while going to deliver a message to the humans. It is not confirmed if he is dead or just… missing at the moment.

Both Malleus’s mom and dad are referred to by name, but the fandom is finding it difficult to settle on one variation until an official English localization of book 7 comes out. “Mallenoa” appears to be the commonly accepted term for Malleus’s mom, whereas “Levan/Revan” is for his dad.

Well… what if we looked at the works of Edgar Allen Poe?? More specifically, at the two poems Lenore and The Raven? 🤔 Stay with me here—

The first poem, Lenore, was written by Poe to cope with his wife Virginia contracting tuberculosis. It speaks of the passing of a young woman (Lenore), and those who mourn for her. Important to note is that Lenore is described as “the queenliest dead that ever died so young”.) Her intended is not crying at the funeral, so others accuse him of not caring for his now deceased fiancé. He counters by claiming the other mourners are the ones who never really cared for her. The poem finished with Lenore’s husband-to-be saying that she is in a better place now than this “damned earth”.

What does this have to do with Malleus’s mom? Look at how her name is written in TWST JP (the two characters that follow the name refer to her title):

Now notice how Lenore is written. All of the characters match except the missing first one (which is understandable, since that is the “Malle”/“Mare” part missing). I confirmed this by typing in “Mallenore”; the end result was the exact same writing as how Malleus’s mom’s name is written in game.

Knowing that Mallenoa is in a dangerous situation that puts her life at risk and Lenore is a poem all about someone who has passed... PLUS Lenore is a woman who is described as “the queenliest dead”, and Mallenoa is the princess of Briar Country, destined to be queen one day... AND how their names are written matching up, it’s possible that “Mallenoa” will be localized as “Mallenore”.

But what about Malleus's dad? Well, I see two possibilities: "Levan" could be a reference to "levin" or lightning (something which Maleficent is associated with) OR it could be "Revan", which is just raven with the vowels swapped around. (It's difficult to know for sure which one would be "more" correct, as the /r/ and /l/ sounds tend to blend together in Japanese.) As we all know, Maleficent is also known for Diablo, her pet raven. Levan/Revan also serves a very similar role as Diablo did for Maleficent to his wife and princess (ie he advised her and acted as her right-hand man; hence why he was the one who departed for the diplomatic trip).

Back to Lenore for a moment, Levan/Revan could be filling in for the role of the upset husband-to-be. Thinking about it, after his wife has died (and assuming he is still alive at that point), the world really would be like a "damned earth" to him. His wife is gone, his country in tatters because of how the human invaders have ravaged it, etc. And worse yet, if he is fae himself then it will be years and years before he is able to rejoin his wife in death.

This brings us to The Raven, which was published 2 years after Lenore and serves as a sort of companion piece to it. The Raven refers to a creature that visits an unnamed man, who laments the loss of his love, Lenore. (Note that even though the same name is used here, it’s not clear if this Lenore is the exact same as the one in Lenore.) The bird continuously antagonizes the mourning man and drives him to madness, reflecting the poem’s sentiment that lingering grief can interfere with one’s ability to live in the present. The Raven, then, is said to be the spirit or presence of Lenore paying a visit to her lover and/or “haunting” him.

The Raven doesn’t have parallels as clear as the ones between Lenore and Mallenoa—however, the motif of the raven itself would match up with what we know of Diablo. “The Raven” is a bird that refuses to leave the mourning man’s home no matter which room he goes to. This could refer to the relationship between Malleus’s parents, between princess and her trusted aide that follows her like a shadow. Alternatively, since the mourning man is Lenore’s lover, this could be foreshadowing. It could mean that Levan/Revan (again, assuming he is still alive by the time his wife dies) will be deeply affected by his wife’s passing.

All of the canon details and stuff aside, this makes some sense thematically if we think about Poe’s general themes. He often talks about death and the loss of loved ones, both of which are major themes in book 7 and now, as we can see, in the history of Briar Country.

So 👁️ 👄 👁️ in conclusion, you should read Edgar Allen Poe… 👉👈

ADDENDUM: HER OFFICIAL NAME IS MELEANOR, BOYS... We were so close...

#twst #twisted wonderland #Lenore #Edgar Allen Poe #Malleus Draconia #Maleficient #Diablo #The Raven #disney twisted wonderland #twst theory #twst theories #twisted wonderland theories #twisted wonderland theory #notes from the writing raven #spoilers #Lilia Vanrouge #Levan Draconia #Meleanor Draconia

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