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queers-gambit · 10 months

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Mother Knows No Bounds

prompt: you are Rhaenyra's daughter, married to Prince Aemond, and the subject of Alicent's hatred. one day, she takes it too far.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader technically Velaryon!wife!reader, but you can pick and choose

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.7k+

note: 10,000 points to your Hogwarts House if you can find the Lord of the Rings quote

warnings: cursing, vilified!Alicent, Aemond needs his big brother. descriptions of potentially triggering content: miscarriages, natural abortions, toxic family being toxic; um is this technically neglect? abuse? potentially triggering description of medical phenomenons, i guess OC Aemond ?

please note again and do not proceed if you are triggered by any of the following content: descriptions of potentially triggering content: miscarriages, natural abortions, involuntary termination, depiction of medical procedure.

you are not missing anything by skipping this, please value your comfort!

The city had come to a screeching halt the moment extreme temperatures skyrocketed, citizens unable to bear the scorching sun during waking, working hours. It was only the brave, stupid, poor, or accommodated persons that dared venture about their lives when the heat index had tripled; silent, since the heat was so sweltering, nobody wanted to add to it by talking. Even the animals were quiet and scarce around the streets, most seeking shelter under any shade they could find.

Women skinny dipped. Children ran around without their clothes. Men forewent any and all armor, most even going shirtless.

The guards were on short patrols and constantly rotated to try and save them from heatstroke. The fishermen all left port to spend time on the water since it was cooler than being on land. Whores wore less than ever before. Vendors constructed makeshift fans for their own air current.

The temperature spike was truly murderous. At dusk, gravediggers traveled the city with a bell and horse-toted cart, announcing if anyone wanted their dead disposed of, now was the time. The heat caused any elderly to dehydrate, their hearts simply stopping; and for young children to overheat and catch too-high fevers.

It was a dreadful time to be alive in King's Landing because the city had next to no coverage, so, the sun beat down on citizens in a suffocating, unbearable, offensive manner. None stood a chance: the young, old, rich, poor, everyone was a target.

For some reason, the fat Lords of the Realm had demanded the King hold court to voice their complaints; temperatures making many operate on short fuses. However, due to his sickly, deteriorating state and wicked weather, King Viserys was unable to sit the Throne; the responsibility falling onto the Hand of the King, Otto Hightower. And because she was Queen, his daughter, Alicent was always in attendance.

Yet for some reason, she had sent guards and servants to retrieve her children - including you.

You'd been married to Aemond about 21 months, and while a seemingly short time, certain single days felt more like three when loved by a man you considered your best friend. You had known the One Eyed Prince back when he had no need for an eyepatch, sapphire, or silly nickname, and for years, you were decent friends before growing to attach at the hip. He was kind, sweet, intelligent, and best of all, he was a wildly good listener. Even as a child, he didn't talk too much, but still more than he did now; and all his life, he was simply a listener. It made for a peaceful and trustworthy marriage.

21 months of marriage, and now, (almost) 7 months pregnant.

Aemond was over the moon with pride, joy, and excitement when you told him the news. He was eager to meet the babe, and the moment he learned, Aemond started gathering whatever material and furniture he could. He commissioned 11 Septas to knit a series of baby blankets; most with Targaryen colors and / or design. Otto was happy to see his grandson looking forward to married life, and Helaena was elated for you both. She's always liked you like a sister, always thought you were kind, just, and fair, with a healthy balance of being stubborn - all topped off with heaping loyalty. To everyone's surprise, even Aegon sincerely offered congratulations to you both when you broke the joyful news, telling you and Aemond he was excited to meet his newest niece or nephew.

However, amongst the fanfare and triumph, two women remained permanently dismayed by the entire marriage that the prospect of a child genuinely angered them.

The first woman was your mother, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, but she was annoyed simply because she knew the Targaryen Curse was real and thought this was not something you should endure. You were her firstborn, her brightest star, her dearest love; she worried herself to the brim about you, and while she respected your marriage, she's never offered approval.

The second woman was Aemond's mother, Queen Alicent Hightower, who chose to silently seeth to herself (for a time) instead of voicing any opinion or emotion. Years ago, she and your mother were the closest of friends, and after she married Viserys, Alicent lost her friend and the tension has only festered from there. However, now that Rhaenyra was living on Dragonstone, you were the only person close enough to take the brunt end of Alicent's anger and she found new ways to project that. Simply put, she despised you - but she would've hated whoever "took" her (unofficial) favorite child "from" her; who became the leading lady in his life. Alicent's anger was justified, but only towards Rhaenyra - not you.

Yet communication and emotional intelligence was rare in this day.

Alicent knew you were innocent of everything. Yet somedays, she could not restrain her anger and would lash out like a dog chained-up; but you had thick skin. You always endured her quick jabs, sharp tongue, and snarling insults because you loved and respected Aemond too much to bite back at his mother. However, while most days, Alicent was amicable, some days, she was a downright bitch, and other days, she was absolutely diabolical.

Alicent's anger took over and when this happened, she was powerless towards impulse; resulting in usually terribly stressful events that honestly have no business being so fucking stressful - or even further, by becoming catastrophic. For example, years ago, when Luke cut Aemond's eye from his socket, she took the King's dagger from his person and tried to attack Rhaenyra. She ended up slicing the Crowned Princess' forearm, but far more damage was already done, and nothing would ever be the same.

Alicent's anger often blinded her and drove her to impulsive decisions or reactions, and this today, in this heatwave, she went too far.

You were sat in your bedchambers, Aemond at your side as you both listened to a sweating Grand Maester; both your hand and your husband's resting on the curve of your pregnant belly.

"Now, remember, Princess, in these conditions, it's important to lay low for the sake of your health and the baby's. Don't be on your feet in the heat too long, don't exert yourself, drink more water than you usually would, and rest as much as possible." He handed you a tea bag, explaining, "For the nerves before bed."

"Thank you," you agreed, taking what he offered. Aemond saw the Grand Maester out of your chambers as you sighed, using a handheld fan to wave cooler air over your face.

"It's criminal, this heat. Gotta get someone in here with a fan," Aemond mumbled to himself, leading you to a lounge chair to rest on. "Can I get you anything, sweet love?"

"Water, if you'd please," you smiled.

He agreed and stood, but just then, a knock sounded at the door. "Come in," Aemond permitted, moving to the table in the room to pour you a goblet of water. The guard who entered wasn't known to you by name, but Aemond greeted him casually, "Ser Mythos. What do we own this pleasure?"

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"Do you know why?" Aemond grit.

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"I've asked you why."

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"Fuck's sake," you snapped, "we heard you! Yeah? Gods," you cursed, head tilted back in annoyance; eyes squeezing shut as your child kicked your bladder.

"The Queen has requested you both in the Throne Room, my Lady and my Prince."

Aemond glanced at you, sighed shortly through his nose, then turned to Ser Mythos to snap, "I will be along shortly, but my wife was told to rest in this heat for our baby's health. We'll need palms brought in for fanning."

"And the Queen has requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince, both of you. Both, my Prince, both."

Your eyes rolled, telling Aemond, "I think the Queen wants us both, my love." Then shifted your glare towards the messenger, sounding as tired as you looked, "All right, fine, fine, fine, fucking fine, give us a moment to dress and we will be there presently."

"My Lady," the guard accepted, turned, and left the room.

"What could Mother want with us both?" Aemond snipped at you when the door shut with an echoing-clang.

"Does it matter? She's called for us," you frowned.

"They can at least call you by your proper title - we are married now. You are a Princess of the City, they should address you as such."

You waved him off, "Who cares about that? C'mere. Help me up, my love, please. Your kid's sitting heavy."

You and Aemond dressed for court in thin clothing before fixing your hair so it didn't cling to either of your necks. It was already far too warm to even think properly, and surely, nobody would judge if you attended court with your hair pulled up, nor judge Aemond for the fashionably bun you convinced him to wear. No make-up was used, no heels; no corset, nor any pinch of leather. Aemond didn't like the last bit, but you were stern in your worry, telling him that leather would retain his body heat and today was already stifling enough.

When ready, you vacated your chambers and walked to the Throne Room, seeing it filled with a sizable crowd that surely would do nothing to help the sticky heat hanging in the air. Aemond held your hand tightly with his head held high to lead you towards his mother, who stood at the base of the Iron Throne. When close enough, Aemond asked, "You called for us, Your Grace?"

"I did," she eyed you both. "This is a good learning opportunity for you both, I thought it best we were all here."

"Mother, it's too hot for - "

"We are all suffering the same heat," she cut Aemond off.

"Yes, but my wife is pregnant, Mother. The Maester told her to rest, not stand in court with a hundred bloody people."

"You mean to tell me she has a higher priority than - "

"Yes. That is what I am saying, Mother. My wife certainly has priority over everything else as far as I am concerned."

Alicent shook her head, "For as long as we hold places in court, we will attend court. All of us, as a united family. Now, pay attention, you both will hold places here after King Viserys, best you know this all now."

So, you stood there like an obedient dog as slowly, one person after another approached the Throne to tell Ser Otto Hightower their grievances. They yapped up all the advice and court rulings; Aemond standing at your side, and while he was listening to what was being said, he also kept an eye on you out of sheer worry. There was no air to blow, no window to open; mediocre fans and palms brought in to manually wave by a few sets of servants. Yet it wasn't enough.

Sweat bulleted on brows. Pale cheeks flushed with heat. Legs started to shake from stress. Clothes dampened and clung to skin.

You were all of the above and then some!

The heat felt criminally offensive, and you knew you wore your displeasure on your face. Discomfort while pregnant isn't easy to hide, your hand smoothing over your belly as you exhaled a slow, calming breath that did literally nothing to aid your tangible anger. The common folk still reported to Otto, but you knew this was far from over, trying to blink back your discomfort as your stomach churned; twisted; started to cramp with increasingly stabbing pain. The heat festered a headache and soon, the nausea set in.

Taking another deep, long breath, you focused on the man complaining about his neighbor stealing his crops, his silver, and how the other man was fucking his wife - in his very own barn! The man asked for permission to sentence the neighbor to trial by combat, and for the life of you, you could not understand why you needed to be present for this.

Another farmer came up, saying there were too many maggots in his fields and needed the King's coin to bring in specialized mulch for himself and all the farmers in all of the Riverlands - who were plagued by this contagious maggot infestation.

Some Lord of Some Lineage From Some Castle of Some Place came up and asked for an increased patrol of "the King's Men", sell swords sent to "keep the King's peace." A group with radically different tactics than Daemon's Gold Cloaks.

This "Some Lord of Some Lineage From Some Castle of Some Place" even presented his daughter, saying she was fit to marry the Prince Aemond. Eyes turned to you and for whatever reason, you felt embarrassed by the sudden attention. So, you shied away from it, shifting slightly closer to Aemond as Otto spoke with a bored expression, "Prince Aemond is wedded already. As is his brother, Prince Aegon."

"What 'bout the li'l one?"

"Pardon?" Otto blinked.

"The Queen's last son?"

"With respect, my Lord, our son is still a child learning the ways of the world and is no way fit to marry quite yet," Alicent cut in, your feet going numb and making you sway slightly. "The Crown has learned from other marriage pacts to examine all offers carefully," but Alicent's sharp words flew over your head as something in your stomach pinched sharply like a severe period cramp. Your breathing came out in shudders; holding onto Aemond securely as he looked down at you with worry.

Your entire face, neck, and chest glistened with sweat. It clung to your hair, raced down your chest, and when he got a closer look, he didn't like the discoloration to your skin. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong...

"Then it shall be a long engagement so you might consider my daughter well!" The Lord barked, laughing gruffly. "She is not a disappointment, my Lord Hand."

"The Crown will consider your offer, Lord Peregrin, but the Crown must weigh other presented offers before marrying young Prince Daeron to anyone," Otto spoke diplomatically.

"Aye, I'll offer her dowry. Twenty thousand good men for your army, and I can spare about 500 Gold Dragons."

"Our army? Are we at war?" Otto faked a chuckle, your vision starting to blur but you refused to cause a scene. Your mouth had cotton in it; tongue sticking to your roof and your cramps were getting worse. You sweat so much, it was running down your neck, forehead, shoulders, lips, thighs, chest.

"Well, no, perhaps not in this moment, Lord Hand - Your Grace - but we know the rumors about the King's lineage," the Lord spoke boldly, making your blood boil, but the pain was over-powering your ability to speak. Tears actually coated your eyes. "Prince Aegon should be named the rightful heir to the Throne, so, if the time comes that he needs an army, my daughter's marriage to Prince Daeron would guarantee those men and swords."

Otto sighed as you gulped harshly, wincing in pain, a single tear rolling down your cheek. The cramping intensified, the bolts of pain setting your muscles on fire and radiating into your organs - or so it felt like. The Throne Room was too hot for you to withstand much longer; there was no water, and you'd been standing there going on three hours. Not to mention, you had been throwing up terribly violent in the night and mornings, meaning, you were probably (very likely) very dehydrated and that wasn't good for you nor the baby.

The longer you stood there, the sicker you felt. The longer you stood there, the more Aemond worried. The longer you stood there, the more time you had to develop a strong resentment towards Alicent. Your hand went to your belly, trying to regulate your breathing, but even your dress gave you away - sweat darkening the hemlines. Since finding out you were pregnant, you and Aemond agreed you would no longer wear corsets, and for a whole weekend, he took you to Highgarden to visit the tailors. They created a whole new "maternity wardrobe" that was loose but still womanly by being formfitting. They were made of breathable material, since Highgarden was tropical and often warm; and Aemond adored the sight of your bump.

"Aemond," you whispered, your husband looking down at you but so did Alicent. "I'm not feeling well, my love. I-I need to sit, I need water."

"We're almost done - "

"This is not the time to distract everyone," Alicent snapped quietly at you. "Focus, and let Aemond focus, too, he's the Prince. You don't need him for your every whim."

You only nodded and closed your mouth, clearing your throat of emotion, knowing something didn't wasn't right. It was more than a gut feeling now, you just inherently knew something was wrong. Disconnected. Short circuiting.

The hall was too hot.

Stifling hot. Suffocatingly hot. Stuffy sort of hot.

Overwhelmingly hot.

Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, so fucking hot!

Your nausea got worse to the point you were going to hurl at any moment. You know that feeling? C'mon, yes you do! You start to feel a little shaky, then your mouth starts "sweating" (or watering) and you even get a little clammy; maybe you even start to look gaunt? Maybe your skin changes color? That feeling? Yeah, that's exactly what was happening!

So, to keep calm, you just start taking long, deep breaths. The last thing you wanted to do was panic when surrounded by so many members of court... Then something that felt like urine raced down your inner thighs, yet you barely noticed it, too distracted with keeping upright. Blood puddled beneath your skirts on the stone but nobody noticed yet. More Lords came and went, some Ladies, more and more farmers with trivial disputes. Fathers, sons, uncles, neighbors, you name it!

However, to your earnest shock, when a particularly amusing man came to speak to the King('s Hand), Aegon had glanced at his brother with an amused smirk, but caught sight of you, requiring a double-take. "Brother," Aegon turned from his 'front row seat', showing a rare moment of emotion by looking concerned at your being. "Oh, Gods, fuck," he worried, looking ready to extend his arms to you.

"Fuck," Aemond breathed, turning you to face him. "Can you hear me, sweet love? Hey, hey," he spoke your name, "can you hear me?"

But it was as if you were in a trance. Waves crushed over your ears, sweat rolling down your skin, appearing clammy and as if not in your own body. Aegon jolted forward when your eyes rolled back in your head, knees buckling, forcing your husband to catch you before you began your descent to the ground. When he caught you, it revealed the blood from under your skirts, and when Aemond got you on the ground, he realized your legs were coated in slick, mucus, and both dried and fresh blood; indicating you had been bleeding for hours.

"Call the Maester!" Aemond barked. "Get the bloody Maester!"

"She's bleeding," Aegon pointed out.

"I have eyes to see, brother, I know she is bleeding!" Aemond snapped, his panic tangible. "Love! My sweet love, please, open your eyes, please. Fuck's sake, please, open your eyes - let me see them. Sweetheart, please, c'mon - FUCK! Brother! Brother, help, please, there's blood! There's too much blood! Aegon! What do I do!? Aegon, please! What do I do!?"

"Let her breathe, brother, the Maester's are coming, it's gonna be all right, I-I've heard this can happen. Okay? Just gotta wait for the Maesters, Aemond," Aegon nodded, reaching a hand to his younger brother's shoulder in comfort. Otto descended the Throne to get a closer look as guards surrounded your unconscious body and Aemond's panicked, kneeling form.

"What happened?" Otto demanded.

"She passed out," Helaena frowned in worry, looking as if tears would soon fall. "And there's blood - she's been swaying, I-I think she was ill."

"It's the heat," Aemond snapped, tears down his cheeks. "We were told she needed rest in this temperature, but no." His glare turned to his mother, "We were both expected here."

"You saw the Grand Maester?"

"We did."

"He told her to lie down?" Otto asked, looking and sounding confused.

"To rest," Aemond nodded, supporting your limp head and neck.

When the Grand Maester arrived, he wasted no time in demanding your limp form be brought to his chambers for monitoring and examination. Aemond picked you up and carried you, leaving everyone else behind - or so he thought. The Maester spent a grand total of 43 minutes conducting diagnostic tests, and when the last exam was brought up, he asked Aemond to step out of the room as the examination would turn more intimate.

When Aemond stepped out, he was surprised to see Aegon and Helaena standing there. Aegon instantly pushed off the wall, asking, "Well? How is she? What's happening?"

"One last test," Aemond answered in a low mutter. "What're you doing here?"

"We wanted to make sure you were both all right," Helaena, his sweet sister, answered.

"Mother didn't demand you stay?"

"No, Mother actually called an end to court," Helaena told Aemond. "Grandfather was very angry."

"He was?"

"Never seen him like that," Aegon agreed, telling Aemond of the words Otto raged at Alicent.

When the chamber doors opened, Aemond was invited back inside. He took to your side instantly, but there was a knowing look in your eyes. You never looked at the Maester, only at your husband, as it was explained that due to the heat, you had become dehydrated over time and then spending the day in court, it was just too long a time being on your feet without water or fresh air. You had toppled over the side of heat stroke, the lack of hydration causing you to involuntarily miscarry.

The child would not grow and for your safety and health, the Maester would have to preform essentially what is an abortion to eliminate exposure to rot. Aemond blinked in astonishment, feeling confused about the turn of events, but when he realized you weren't able to respond, he looked at you.

He made the decision, seeing tears streaking your cheeks and the dead look in your eyes.

You were prepped for the procedure and while the Master tried to escort Aemond out, nobody was able to move him from his place at your side. It took the better part of an hour, but when it was over, not only were you given an additional dose of Milk of the Poppy, but Aemond was also given several vials for you in the coming days. He was also given a plethora of herbs, spices, remedies, salves, therapies, and treatments; being given explicit instruction and detail about all he was given, being told when to use what to best help you.

Aemond stooped to pick you up, again, refusing to let anyone else touch you, and the Grand Maester held the door for him. Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, and Otto were all revealed, but Aemond didn't even so much as blink at them; whatever life might've been left lurking behind his eye being completely snuffed out. He made a direct beeline for your chambers with the intention to let you rest in a soft, familiar bed for however long you needed, but he was followed by his family and knew this would be anything but a peaceful time.

"L-Love?" You whimpered when your husband laid you on your marital bed. "Aemond? Aemond?" You asked a little more frantically, being soothed swiftly.

"I'm here, I'm right here, sweetheart," he hushed, ignoring the audience; one hand holding yours as the other pet your hair back. "Hey, just breathe for me, darling, I'm right here. I've got you."

"I-I might be sick," you complained in a whisper, eyes unable to open as sweat bulleted on your skin.

"'S all right," he assured, grabbing a basin to leave on the bed beside you so he could sit at your side. "'M right here, you're not alone."

Aemond watched the way you harshly gulped, a hand dragging up to press to your belly. "W-What happened?" You mumbled, making his heart clench. "I just... There was a lot of heat and then pain." Your eyes finally opened to meet his, "I remember pain, Aemond."

With a glance up at his family, Aemond told you stiffly, "You remember correctly, love. The, uh... The heat was too much for you to handle, sweet girl, and that wasn't your fault." He took a long breath, clutching one of your hands in both of his, "But it was just too much. We couldn't save them... We couldn't save her."

"I-It was a girl?"

"It was," Aemond confirmed, reaching for your other hand to hold tightly. "And you didn't do this. Hmm? You hear me? This is not your doing."

"But my body - "

"No," he refused with a harsh tone. Realizing you were not the one to take his anger out on, he cleared his throat, "Sorry, love, I just," he took a breath. "Listen to me, okay? No, my sweet love, we were told to rest - you and I were told this heat was too much for the babe and that you would need rest. We meant to, we had every intention to follow the Maester's orders, but..." Another pause as he fought off the emotion clawing through his chest. "But for some reason, royal obligation was more important than our family, and Mother refused to let us miss today's court appearance."

"Huh...?" You breathed, still relatively drowsy from the day. But the emotion was real, your husband saw your pain. "What're you talking about, love? Aemond? What's - What the hell happened to our baby? Where's our baby?"

Aemond's jaw steeled and a tear streaked down his cheek as he forced himself to explain, "The Queen demanded our attendance in court today. And standing in the heat for hours cost us our daughter's life. I am so sorry, my sweet love, but we do not have our daughter because she is... She isn't in your womb anymore," his hand laid over your belly, your own automatically following. "She can't ever join us, our family," he spoke slowly, then tearing his glare away from your tired figure to his mother, sneering, "because my mother can't let go of a decades-old feud with a woman no longer living in this very city."

"Aemond," you whispered, heart shattered in your chest but still managing, "do not take this out on her."

"No?" He snapped, still glaring at his mother but clutching your belly, "If not for her, our daughter would still be safe in her mother's womb and we'd still have the chance to one day hold her. But no," he spoke as slowly as he stood to his feet, pulling his hands away from you, "no, we were unjustly denied that chance."

When her (favorite) child faced her with such hatred, dread, distraught, soul-sucking eyes, Alicent frowned with tears in her own eyes. She had so much to say, but only managed, "I did not intend for this."

"This hatred you feel for Rhaenyra is literally costing lives! For the love of all the Gods, my wife is nothing like her mother! They are not one in-the-same, this does not make her your new target to unleash Hell upon - she has done no wrong and yet suffers these heinous consequences!"

"I did not intend for this! You must know that!" She repeated in desperation. "I only wanted you both to partake in your duties - soon, you will be the ones conducting business at court and you must be readied for what may come!"

"That does not give you the right to forfeit her health!"

"How was I to know - "

"The bloody Maester told us - but evidently, the word of the trained professional is not good enough for you!" Aemond raged, something in his heart snapping. "We are denied the right to meet our daughter because, what? What is it? You cannot reach Rhaenyra right now so you will take the closest thing - being my fucking wife!?"

"Aemond," Otto tried to step in, "perhaps this is getting out of hand."

"It was already out of hand," Aegon defended with a sharp snap, "the moment the Maester was ignored."

"You refuse to respect us," Aemond snapped at his mother, everyone silencing themselves when another tear fell down his cheek. "You refuse to respect us, to listen, and all for why? You think you know better than the Maesters? Or because she is daughter of Rhaenyra?"

"Aemond," Alicent warbled through her tears.

"You've gone too far," his head shook, devastation taking hold, "and I do hope you find deliverance from the Gods, because from me? I do not see how I can find a shred of ability to forgive such a sin."

It was quiet. Helaena's head was bowed, Aegon glared at his mother like Aemond; Otto frowned as he avoided all eye contact.

Imagine everyone's surprise when bare feet padded over the stone ground, two shaking hands raising to press into Aemond's stomach from behind. "My love," you mumbled softly, "please, do not speak so hatefully in this prolonged grief. We will do all we can do now and pray on this, but if we want to heal, we will need to learn to forgive. This was not a malicious, thought-out plan executed in partner with the co-conspiring weather; it was a terrible circumstance that the Gods have chosen us to endure. Your mother can pray for forgiveness, she's owed that right; and we will say our own, but I know that one day, we will be blessed and bring a child into this world. Because it's you and I, Aemond, and our child would be the full embodiment of the purest, truest love - and for something that perfect, we'll need time." You took a breath, looking sickly, gaunt; eyes full of tears as you ended, "But it is not this day."

Aemond turned to wrap his arms around you, insisting, "You should be resting." When he got you to turn to move for the bed again, he snarled at his mother, "She's the one who just lost a child and yet still defends you."

"Perhaps it's best we leave them alone," Aegon recommended. "We'll have meals sent for you both," he told his brother with a meaningful nod. "You both just take your time."

"Thank you," Aemond sighed, easing you back to the mattress; laying a single, thin sheet over your body. When Aegon had ushered everyone out, Aemond just stared down at you for a long moment, sighing sadly and whispering, "I'm so sorry, sweet love."

"Just lay with me," you requested.

He moved to strip himself of his linens, the heat still sweltering, and laid beside you; instantly cuddling you into his bare chest. Aemond knew you didn't want to talk, but this needed said, and he whimpered, "This is my fault."

"What?" You gaped, looking up at him in shock. You quickly pulled his leather eye patch off to force his full attention, holding his cheek and demanding, "What did you just say?"

"If you and I did not marry, if I had not pursued you - courted you," he shook his head, brows crinkled from restrained sobs, "we would not be in this position, you would not know this pain. We knew the tension in our family, we knew the hatred between our mothers, and still I wanted you. This is my fault, I shouldn't've done this - you should not have to endure this."

Your hand reached up to caress the side of his face; foreheads pressed together to breathe the same air, warm the same space, sweat onto one another, but never wanting to be apart. It was a sticky embrace but you both needed it, and you hushed, "I regret nothing about us. Nothing, Aemond. If I knew how this would play out, I'd do it all again because I know I love you beyond words. Beyond," you giggled lightly, "rational thought, even. Aemond, everything you are, I adore, and all we are together is... It's the greatest pleasure of my life. My greatest honor."

"I do not deserve a woman like you."

"Perhaps not," you teased, "but you have me anyway. And what do we do with rare women, my Prince?"

His lips found yours in a sweeping kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. When he pulled back, he whispered, "We love them well."

A week later, King's Landing would find relief from the unwavering, record-breaking heatwave - only to be blasted by a wave of dragon fire. It was only then the Prince Aemond was seen with his wife for the first time since "The Throne Room Incident", and both were dressed in the traditional color of funerals: black.

You were bestowed an incredibly small bundle of black cloth, and with the rest of the Royal Family following, ventured to a distant hill where a funeral was to take place. Because your daughter was still so very tiny, she was laid in a fiery basin with only you and Aemond to preside over; offering prayer in High Valyrian. He held you close, the wind from the coast whipping all clothing around, and just behind everyone, Vhagar landed with a distinct thundering thud.

You didn't move, staring into the flames.

Aemond looked back, and when Vhagar saw the tears in her master's eye, noting the way he turned back to comfort you and grieve over your daughter, the dragon roared. A roar so loud, it was heard from the Riverlands. A roar so powerful, it shook the ground they all stood on. A roar so terrible, it made a few throats swell in emotion. A roar so sad, ballads would be written about it.

King's Landing might've been relieved from the weather's temperature, but as Vhagar felt her master mourning his daughter, she released an angry flame into the air that the citizens all felt.

For years, on the contrary, the entire city would feel Prince Aemond's cold shoulder to his mother, Queen Alicent, but for now, the heat of grief demanded to be felt.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

#aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x f!reader #hotd #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen angst

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jacketssupplier · 1 year

Text

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marathonclothes · 2 years

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The Advantages Of Compression Clothing For Daily Workout

In this day and age of fitness and exercise we focus so much on what we put into our body. But what about what we put “on” our body? Fitness clothing is more important than ever with ever advancing technologies coming in to play, it’s a way we can enhance our performance without any extra effort or training.

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obsessivelullabies · 7 months

Text

⎯ pervert arataki itto.

pairing : arataki itto x fem!reader.

tags : smut, arataki itto x reader, itto x reader, pervert itto, genshin x reader, genshin impact.

warnings : stalking, smut, 18+, yandere behavior.

authors note : unedited, short.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

⎯⎯ you were a simple woman. you resided in inazuma. if there was anything to say about you, it would be that you enjoyed peace and quiet. you didn't like anything to be big, flashy or troublesome. you can still remember the day you met itto.

⎯⎯ you were indulging in some ramen from a street vendor, as you handed over your mora, you heard a deafening cry of chaos. a massive oni announcing himself as he strolled down the street.

⎯⎯ to make a long, dragged on story short of poor haggling and pleading, you ended up buying this oni his own bowl of ramen. to your own dismay, as you tried to leave, you were followed.

"hey! heyyy!" the oni repeated as you tried your best to quicken your pace in a poor attempt to be away from him.

you sighed, trying your best to keep your manners, "hello." you greeted him flatly, giving him a weak smile.

the oni strode beside you, a wide grin on his face as he held the bowl of ramen in his hand. "i've never seen you here before. who are you?"

as you opened your mouth to give him a short introduction, he cut you off. "name's arataki itto, you probably know who i am." itto hooted, "the leader of the famous arataki gang!" he boasted.

"..never heard of it." you mumbled, keeping a quick pace, lest he try to recruit you into his weird street gang.

⎯⎯ itto's jaw practically dropped. your small interjection caused him to begin a series of ramblings about him, his gang, what his gang did. you didn't pay attention to most of it.

⎯⎯ itto felt immediately drawn to you. you were so sweet to him, buying him ramen, giving him a cute smile and listening to his yapping. from the first day you met, itto vowed to stay by your side, to protect the kind young woman who had done such a thoughtful small gesture for him.

⎯⎯ and that's exactly what he did. he followed you around, observed you, made sure you steered clear of danger. he thought of it as bonding. bonding without your knowledge or consent.

⎯⎯ from what you knew, you ran into itto every so often. you two would chat casually about nothing in particular. you even invited him over for tea.

itto rushed out of your quiet home, right after he finished a small chat alongside tea with you.

he had a treasured possession stuffed into his pants. a pair of your delicate, lacy panties.

itto practically bolted towards a discreet alley, clutching your panties in his hand. he stared at them in contemplation. his granny raised his to respect women. to not be gross or lewd.

that was all thrown out the window when he caught a whiff of your essence.

almost instantly, his large hand was down his pants, teasing his leaking cock as he stroked himself. his other hand held your panties up to his nose, he buried his face into your scent.

a part of him felt gross, but the other part could only think about how your walls would feel squeezed around him, milking his balls.

he thought about how good he’d fuck you, how your perky tits would bounce as he claimed you over and over again.

itto’s mind was consumed with the thought. he’d breed you, stuff your gorgeous cunt with his babies, make you feel so good.

itto came hard, his cum staining the inside of his pants. he groaned, panting as he envisioned your gorgeous body and your pretty smile.

he knew he had to make his fantasy real. he had to have you.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

#yandere #yandere x reader #genshin yandere #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin itto #arataki itto #arataki itto x reader #arataki smut #genshin x you #itto x reader #itto x y/n #itto x you #genshin drabbles

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bat-besties · 1 year

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People often say Cass’ reason for identifying as nonbinary is “not understanding gender” and while it’s often a joke, I do think it’s the complete opposite to Cass’ knowledge. (I’m using she/her for canon, this applies however and whichever way you headcanon Cass’ gender identity)

I feel it’s often coming from a place of her not understanding language, but gender is so much more than language. A lot of sociologists and gender theorists would kill for the ability to perfectly understand body language and then travel across (at least) China, Vietnam, and the US observing people in urban and rural environments, in both peaceful and violent situations.

In many ways, her lack of preconceptions about gender or need for language to shape her observances would make her more able to see the reality of gender performance rather than ideals. The idea that women are weak or men are unemotional would be foreign to her.

As a child she’s isolated, but she still trains with the League of Assassins briefly. Unfortunately, the first time she is heavily gendered is as a disguise and a weapon in the most traumatic event in her lift, which undeniably shapes her attitude to femininity as this post covers.

But as she runs, her world suddenly expands to, well, the entire world.

Her gender identity may have come to words and self-expression in America, but the first place she would be able to really observe people is in south China, likely passing through Guangdong and Guangxi over the course of a year or two. That’s a really formative period, and as I personally think Lady Shiva is from south China (specifically Yunnan), is also unintentionally Cass connecting with her heritage.

She’s a homeless and very traumatised nine year old, so obviously her experience would have been overall awful. However, a teenage Cass still strongly believes in the sanctity of life and the capacity for goodness in people, and I have to think that while she’s seen a lot of darkness, she’s seen a lot of goodness too. Cass isn’t always curious about things she doesn’t understand (as with her reading), but she has to have been observant to keep travelling and keep escaping from Cain.

She will have seen the wealthy gamblers of Macau, the street vendors of small-town Vietnam, the pickpockets of Gotham. She will have seen different gender norms across cultures, even if she doesn’t know how each language reflects those norms. She would have to adjust to each new place, and refine her body language reading more generally (like how Americans smile way too much), including gendered readings.

Cass will have seen a million couples, straight and gay. Pairs of women afraid to hold hands but projecting their nervousness on the first date like a signal. Unhappy marriages hidden by false smiles for the neighbours. Elderly couples where the man still walks on the road side of the pavement.

Considering herself an orphan, she will have seen mothers nursing their babies, fathers pushing their daughters on swingsets, sisters yelling at each other one moment and laughing the next.

Watching unobserved, she would see all kinds of women in the city. Groups of women going from club to club in high heels, schoolgirls copying each other’s homework on the train, business women in neat makeup and a purposeful walk.

She will have met other homeless girls like herself. Despite being unable to speak with them she might recognise the guarded set to their eyes, the way they are always poised to run - but they might have a smile for her, and a willingness to share a sheltered spot. They might have cut her hair spiky and short, or taught her to play cat’s cradle.

Unfortunately, she will have seen predatory behaviour, men who leer or talk with deceptively friendly tones to a little girl alone. (I know she’s meant to “discover” men being attracted to her in the comics as a teen but that’s optimistic). When those men approach other girls, she doesn’t hesitate to protect them.

But she would have seen so much joy too - boys playing football and grown men joining in, old men sitting on plastic chairs and observing the street together, gangly teen boys play-fighting.

On the streets, clustered and sometimes hidden, she would have seen people whose clothing and body language doesn’t match their bodies. Before Cass knows the words transgender and drag and gender nonconforming, she knows that these people are at risk for being different - at risk like she might be, if she couldn’t convince herself she only needs her fighting skills to protect herself. She wouldn’t need words to take each person as they look to her, to have an amorphous and wordless idea of performativity.

And then of course, she has Barbara, and Batgirl, and finally language.

So, I think Cass’ gender identity is something she discovers with the background of this huge tapestry of humanity she’s observed over the years. And if she goes “fuck that it makes no sense”, that’s a deeply informed, nuanced Fuck That.

#cassandra cain #cass cain #batgirl #orphan dc #black bat #dc #batfam #trans cass cain #trans cassandra cain #i'm very passionate about this #i wish we got more of cass' lost years generally #because 9 to 15 is such a formative time #this is all based on her original batgirl run #as my favourite cass #and where we get the macau detail and that panel with vietnamese writing on the street signs #gender is not about knowing english words or american norms!!!!

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dearharriet · 3 months

Note

could I request the tangled prompt for george, please? 😚

and congratulations on 150!!! 🎉

here u are lovely, thank you sm!! (wc: 870)

George is not used to this whole heart in his chest thing, and it’s really dragging down his name as an enemy of the crown.

I mean, sure, that’s not something he can just put away—and the palace guards certainly won’t—but he almost wishes he could. Which is stupid, obviously George loves being a criminal—who doesn’t?

But the thing is, you’re kind of more than he’d been expecting. George thought you were naive, and jumpier than a field mouse, and you are, but you’re also kind when you want to be, and similarly cutthroat when necessary. You’re not half bad.

Like now, in the square, you’re helping an older group of women with their knitting patterns. George had ordered you to lay low, but he realizes now how foolish that is. It doesn’t matter how low you lay, everyone would be looking at you anyways. You’re just magnetic that way.

Leaving the chittering group, you pass over the wide open square, eyes on a shady alcove at the other end. George ducks further into the overhang, skirting around columns to meet you there.

Even if you’re not seeking him out, he’s glad you’re getting some shade. The mid-year sun is penetrating every thick stone building in the kingdom, and turning the ground into a coal walk for your bare feet.

And anyways, when the sun and you meet head-on, it’s a spectacle that’s hard to look at.

Rounding the corner, George stops short, realizing you’re not as alone as he thought.

You’re crouched, hair fanning over your shoulders, speaking with a small boy who looks very unfortunate. There’s dirt covering his face, and his feet are similar to yours in that they’re unprotected. He can’t be more than ten, but instead of playing in the sun like most children, he’s slumped against the wall, looking tired.

George’s newfound heart thumps a little, shocking his system. He steps forward, but then you’re standing, pulling the boy up with you.

Weaving through carts and wagons, you lead the boy into the center of the square, and then skitter away to a quartet of musicians.

The little boy looks like he’s treading open water, spinning in the wake of your attention. When you come back, you take his shaking hands into yours as a song begins to play.

Then you’re dancing.

With the height difference it’s nothing more than a flailing spin, but with every rotation both your face and the boy’s light with joy.

Two couples join in, and George ventures out of his hiding spot to get a better view. As he passes vendors and shoppers, he notices them uprooting themselves, pushing toward you the way he is.

Many of them join, and when George is on the bank of the whirling circle of townspeople he can’t see you anymore. The dance has quickly evolved into a more complex braid of partners, one that everyone but him seems to understand.

A part of him worries that you were taken, but a flash of gold cuts through the mesh of feet, and his shoulders settle.

The partners change fast, so one second your elbows are linked with an older man, and the next you’re swinging into a young girl. It goes this way down the chain, changing all at once like a flower that blooms new every minute, and you keep your eyes on George the whole time.

When you reach him, you stick one hand out and yank him into the fray.

George stumbles and then catches himself on a stranger who kindly guides him into the proper spin. Luckily, he’d been watching long enough to know when to switch, pinging from one partner to the next as bystanders clap to the beat.

When he’s rounded the full circle, the music changes, and everyone finds a new direction.

Though he probably wouldn’t admit it out loud, George understands why you and the boy had looked so happy. As he swings through smithys and students and artists, touching each hand briefly in this hurdling dance, he’s undeniably alive.

He thought that stealing the crown was the fastest his heart would ever beat, but he might have been wrong. Running away was easy, but coming back? Near impossible.

Without him even realizing, George is finally dancing with you. It felt like every time he’d completed the circle and come to you, the music had changed and you’d miss each other.

But now, you’re under his hands, and when the music changes, you tighten yours around his. The chain breaks, and no one seems to mind. George suspects it was all your making anyways, so this time is no different.

Around and around you spin under the summer sun, and George tugs you closer, his feet doing the work for both of you. He doesn’t have to think, he just turns and turns and lifts you, revels in your delighted laugh. He shocks himself with his returning laugh—not snide nor attractive, but truly overjoyed.

When you land on your feet, the music comes to an end, and George and you are still laughing. Both of your chests meet with each huff, swelling with air and pride.

George knows it’s not about the crown anymore.

thank you for reading xx

masterlist

join the celebration!

#harriet’s 150 celebration #george weasley #george weasley x fem #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley fluff #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley drabble #george weasley fic #george weasley fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #harry potter #request

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oftenwantedafton · 5 months

Text

The Perfect Girl - Dave Miller/William Afton x Female Reader

Chapter 1

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - none for this chapter

Excerpt: Dave Miller sees you hesitate. Perhaps reluctant to stay alone in the dark. Perhaps some sense of self preservation is finally kicking in, making you wary of following a virtual stranger more than two decades older into the recesses of an abandoned restaurant.

No one knows you’re here.

Anything could happen.

Also available on AO3

Fate brings you into the man calling himself Dave Miller’s path on a Monday afternoon.

You’re in line ahead of him at a kiosk at the mall, where a vendor sells bags of artificially colored and flavored popcorn. There are a variety of unusual offerings like chocolate orange and strawberries and cream and peanut butter and jelly, the latter dyed purple and yellow. That was a personal favorite of his.

You’re next. You take a step forward and Dave moves right behind. He hooks a thumb in one of the belt loops of his security guard uniform pants and fiddles with the heavy ring of keys. There are so many. He doesn’t even know what half of them are for, in truth; only concerned with the ones that matter.

He can smell your fragrance from here. Not some cloying perfume that older women seem to favor, but something fruity and vibrant. A body spray of some sort perhaps. He also detects a light floral scent from your shampoo. You’re not long out of the shower, he thinks.

You order Wacky Watermelon. The kernels are colored red and green. You rummage in your purse. A tidy little thing, compact, thin strap, single compartment. It appears you’re a little short on cash.

“I’ve got it,” the security guard says, stepping beside you, reaching for his wallet.

Your cheeks flush. Such a pretty pink hue. “That’s ok, I…”

“It would be my pleasure.” He smiles. It’s a large one, lips stretching over sharp looking teeth. A bit intimidating.

“Oh, okay. Th…thank you,” you stammer.

So now you are indebted to him. At least, that is how he sees it. You collect your bag of popcorn and smile nervously.

“I’ll treat you next time. I just got a job working over there.” You point to a clothing store for young adults. He can hear the music blaring inside from here. The mannequins in the storefront windows are currently wearing distressed denim leggings and cropped hoodies. The fashion of today’s youth is something that eludes Dave, but then again, he supposes every generation has their trends. He’s seen bell bottoms and leg warmers come and go. Earth tones and neon. Now this blatant exposure. A jarring mismatch of wanting to be covered but also exposing tantalizing amounts of flesh. And he was not supposed to look. Well.

You don’t appear to subscribe to that same sense of style. Your clothing is demure. Everything covered. Not too tight. Hinting at nothing. Leaving it to the imagination. He likes to imagine.

He nods and a piece of the dark hair that’s a bit untidy falls over his brow. He sees you swallow thickly. How lovely your throat is.

“So I gotta get back. I’ll see you around.”

Oh, indeed you will, he thinks.

***

It’s Thursday. It’s pouring outside and the mall is crowded, people driven to find activities indoors. The pizzeria would have been very busy on a day like today, if it was still open.

He wanders the dusty rooms. Brushes fingers over the joysticks and buttons on the arcade cabinets. Draws back the stage curtains to view the animatronics frozen in place, waiting patiently for a future peformance. He’ll wake them again, when the time is right. He returns to the security office and surveys the monitors. There are intruders on occasion, but they’re rare, as the restaurant is actually concealed behind a wall, its existence forgotten. Those that do happen to stumble into it, well. They don’t live to tell the tale. So it remains hidden, secret. Like his real identity as the former owner of the establishment, William Afton.

He eases back into the office chair and it creaks loudly in the stillness. He can spare a few more moments before he returns to his actual job patrolling the shopping mall. How tedious it is. Assisting customers when they’ve locked themselves out of their cars. Giving directions, usually to the restroom even though there are mall directories everywhere. The occasional shoplifter. Reuniting lost children with their parents. That last task was especially difficult to keep a straight face during. It’s a waiting game, something to do to fill the in between times, until he can begin the work again. At least it gives him an alibi, an excuse to be near his old restaurant.

He’s thirsty.

The soda vending machines are empty, of course, the supplies of the franchise’s stock long depleted. No more Freddy Fazbear’s Fizzy Cola or Bonnie’s Bodacious Orange Blast. He’ll need to get something from one of the vendors in the food court. Perhaps you’ll go with him, pay him back as it were.

He has found you coming into his mind all week.

He’d seen you a few times during his patrol. Paused to watch you refold sweaters and organize pants hanging on a rack when he thinks you’re unaware. Sometimes he waits for you to notice and he waves and smiles. A softer gesture, no teeth. You wave uncertainly back.

The wheels drag across the floor as Miller pushes back from the desk and rises to his feet. It’s time to leave his beloved pizzeria. For now.

***

You’re in high school. Senior year. Eighteen, an only child. Parents divorced. You’ve just purchased your first car. Want to study Archaeology, specialize in Egyptology.

You’re babbling, alternating between nibbling on a chocolate bar and sipping lemon lime soda. Dave patiently listens to the prattling. He likes the way your glossed lips look wrapped around the straw, the suction you apply. He takes a sample of his own cherry soda and leans back. The metal cafe chairs in the food court aren’t the most comfortable, especially since his legs are so long, his six foot four frame cramped. But he’ll endure it, and gladly. The chatter and the discomfort pale in comparison to what he wants to take from you.

“How long have you worked here?” You ask him, taking another bite of milk chocolate.

“Two years, nearly.”

“What’s the most interesting thing that’s happened? Like, did you ever have to call the police or anything?”

“There are the occasional shoplifters. Nothing dramatic.” The security guard takes another pull from his drink.

You look a little disappointed. “Oh, okay.” The candy wrapper is empty. He can hear the ice rattling around in the nearly empty cup. Your time together seems to be running short. “Well, I gotta get back. It was nice talking to you.”

“Likewise. I appreciate the beverage.” He finishes his drink and dumps it into the trash bin nearby.

Dave accompanies you back to the clothing store. There’s no reason for it. You don’t need an escort or a guide. But it’s an excuse to be by your side a little longer. You’re wearing a different body spray today but this scent is equally as appealing. Vanilla. Warm and sugary.

“Have a good rest of your shift,” you say, stepping back into the store you’re employed at. Dave watches your thread your way between the shelves and the racks and he thinks he’s going to bring you into the darkness of the pizzeria very soon.

***

The following Sunday. Sunny, mild, the perfect spring day. The mall is less crowded, customers seeking the good weather outdoors.

Dave braves the music and enters the clothing store you work at. You’re leaning against the counter. He’s watched you wipe down the same clean space five times in as many minutes. Keep glancing at the clock, eager for the shift to end. You’re clearly bored.

The security guard joins you at the counter and leans. Narrow hips much higher next to your curves. Arms folded over a gray shirt with black epaulets. Long and lean. The heavy ring of keys jangling when he shifts positions.

“Is it me, or is today incredibly dull?”

“Oh my gosh, yes,” you agree immediately.

“What time do you get off?”

“Two.”

“I’ve got something to show you.”

The phrasing throws you off. He can feel you stiffen a bit beside him, your breath catching.

“I’ve found an old arcade walled up at the other end of the mall. Thought maybe you’d like to go explore. It looks pretty interesting.”

“Oh!” You exclaim. He feels the tension ease in your limbs. Back to trusting again. “That’s kind of neat.”

“Don’t tell anyone about it, okay? I don’t want people to find out. It’s just our little secret.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I’ll come back at two to get you.” He pushes off from the counter, raking a hand through the dark locks that are just a touch too long.

“Okay.” You sound a bit uncertain. But the deal has been struck. It doesn’t matter if you’re a bit wary.

He’s got you right where he wants you.

***

Dave Miller doesn’t really need the flashlight.

He knows his restaurant by heart, of course; knows the placement of every machine and table and chair and counter. But he has to illuminate the path, for your sake.

You follow close behind him. He has a habit of stopping abruptly and you collide against his spine more than once. You don’t see his feral grin.

He beams the light around so you can see the remains of the pizzeria’s glory: the claw machines and the pinball cases, the partially stocked prize counters and the arcade cabinets.

“What’s behind the curtains?” He sees you looking curiously at the stage.

“Animatronics.”

“Like Chuck E. Cheese?”

Miller scowls. “A superior version. They copied Freddy Fazbear’s.”

“It’s a shame there’s no electricity. I would totally give some of these games a try.”

“Oh, there is. I just have to hit the switch. It’s way in the back near the offices. Are you going to come with me or stay here?”

He sees you hesitate. Perhaps reluctant to stay alone in the dark. Perhaps some sense of self preservation is finally kicking in, making you wary of following a virtual stranger more than two decades older into the recesses of an abandoned restaurant. No one knows you’re here. Anything could happen.

“I’ll come with you.”

Dave grins. “Follow me.”

#william afton x you #william afton x reader #dave miller x reader #dave miller x you #william afton #dave miller #fnaf fanfic

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eevylynn · 3 months

Text

You're Good

Sterek || E || Friends to Lovers || 7k wc

“I’m comfortable with my life,” Stiles told Lydia, and he was. He had a job he loved, his pack was safe, and he got to see them regularly. Yeah, there was one thing he would like to change, but there's only so much he can do to change that one thing. Stiles was pretty sure that dating other people wouldn’t help. Or Stiles agrees to let Lydia set him up on a blind date, not realizing who exactly she had in mind.

AN: I realized I never made a full on tumblr post with this..oops!

This was written For L_Grae with the prompts: ~Mutual pining with meddling from the pack. ~Future fic, blind date set up by certain packmates, not realizing Sterek has a FWB agreement already.

Unfortunately, I can't quite write friends with benefits (I gave it a valiant effort, but my brain just couldn't get it right), so I merged the prompts together.

Sterek Valentine's Bingo 2024: Candle

~*~*~*~

Locking the office up with a whistle, Stiles tossed his keys in the air before catching them and shoving them in his back pocket before he turned to walk down the street to the combination coffee and bar that sat a block or so away from his office. He mentally patted himself on the back for that smooth move before abruptly tripping on nothing. Stiles looked around quickly. No one saw that.

That was the one good thing about it getting dark before Stiles even leaves the office at this time. The whole shorter days thing that came with winter coming AND Daylight Savings Time ending at the same time does get somewhat depressing at times, but it’s not like Stiles has never gone around town at night before.

Back in high school, nights were the only times that Stiles could really investigate supernatural happenings what with needing to actually go to school. He always did love a good puzzle to investigate and even contemplated joining the FBI. However, after botching up his own internship with the FBI, Stiles ended up going to college at Beacon Hills Community College. While still in school, Stiles started a side hustle as a Supernatural Private Investigator, and, upon graduation, he was able to devote his time to his growing business, even opening an office in the slowly reemerging downtown area of Beacon Hills.

Thanks to the combined efforts of the local Beacon County packs, the Nemeton was growing healthily again, bringing positive energies with it, something even the everyday humans could feel. Because of this, more people, both supernatural and human, were moving to town and slowly building up the local economy.

Just the short walk between Stiles’ office and Lunar Lounge, his favorite bar and coffee shop, included a boutique one of Stiles’ old classmates opened, a vegan smoothie shop, owned by a nice family of elves that just moved here a few years back, and a greenhouse bookstore whose owners were always more than happy to provide Stiles with any herbs he needed for potions work after he helped them with a pixie infestation that took residence in one of their personal gardens at their house.

The Lunar Lounge was where many of the Hale pack worked. Open practically 24 hours, it served coffee and breakfast for the morning crowd before transitioning into a pub style bar in the afternoons. In addition to providing human beverages, Lunar Lounge also offered a variety of specialty drinks for the different supernaturals of Beacon Hills, including but not limited to wolfsbane infused homebrews, real bloody marys, and a selection of shimmering, almost ethereal, wines that Peter had procured a vendor for that Stiles was pretty sure was fae, but the wolf refused to confirm or deny that suspicion.

Entering the open double doors, Stiles nodded at Isaac who was behind the bar preparing some fancy pink and yellow monstrosity of a cocktail that was most definitely too sweet for Stiles’ liking.

He crossed the open sea of scuffed wooden tables, dodging a pair of colorful haired women that suddenly blocked his path as they stood up to go who knows where. Reaching the back corner, he found Derek at his usual table that he’d probably been sitting at for the last several hours, hidden from most by a black metal staircase that led to a lofted lounge area. Dark eyebrows furrowed as Derek continued to type on his laptop.

As Stiles plopped down in the seat across from him, Derek glanced up before he said, “I’m almost done. Give me a minute.”

Stiles grinned, “You’re good.” Derek smiled before turning his attention back to the screen.

Continue reading on ao3

#sterek #my writing #stiles stilinski #derek hale #eternalsterek #sterek fic #teen wolf #teen wolf fic #sterek valentine bingo #sterek valentine exchange

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helloescapist · 11 months

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In Another Life | Sanemi Shinazugawa

Word Count: 5272

Setting: Shinazugawa Sanemi x fem!reader (oiran reader), pining, short

Content Warnings: mentions of gore, abuse, and oiran/redlight district, and language

Summary: After hearing about Tengens success in the redlight district, Sanemi has decided to investigate one himself. His analysis leading him buried memories of the girl he had loved, and that faith had abandoned.

A/N: I am admittedly new to Tumblr, and very unfamiliar with how to interact. Until I figure it out, I just want to express how happy I am to see my work being read, and shared. I really do appreciate each and every one of you.

[Art work is not mine, credit goes to the artist!]

Lights glowed across the district; waves of visitors jostled amongst the path. Lanterns glowed in the growing night, bright enough to daze and confuse the senses. Human instincts humming whispers of slumber, and beckoned sleep snubbed out by the intense atmosphere.

Human instincts humming whispers, and beckoned sleep snubbed out by the intense atmosphere. The night delayed as it masqueraded as the day, masked in the glow of lanterns across the district. Incense and perfumes that dulled the senses, claimed the thoughts of men and women alike drawn by the intimate glow. Lanterns danced in the night air, as waves of visitors jostled along the paths that had been abandoned in the daylight. Buildings that loomed in the sky, grandiose in nature, dripping of the wealth of proprietors. Owners exhibiting their prosperity in embellished fabrics, banners hung intentionally to draw the eye. Windows alit with the readily available oirans. Hair meticulously styled for the run of the mill customer; adorning hairpins and fabrics no longer favored by higher ups. Their very being mere constructions of the tayu classes’ secondhand rejections. Either discarded due to outdated appearance, or simply deemed unfavorable for valued customer classes. Only the luckiest of them having adorned castoff rouge. Farmers and vendors alike appraising them through warped vision; having tossed away thoughts of their wives, partners, and family for the night, willing to overlook the product’s pitiful origins in favor of lust and personal benefits. The merchandize only dared to smile, eyes trained to the ground with the occasional fan pressed against lips. The customers only momentarily distracted from the coos and teases of women on the balcony, hoping to earn a night’s work. Dizzying waves of women who had taken to the streets to beckon passersby to their brothel. Kamuros dashing across the way, bending to the whims of their oiran’s command as they fetched every need one might possess.

It was enough to piss him off. The overbearing scents to mask the leftover musk of various customers. Perfumes intended to disguise the common prostitute as something angelic despite the usual fierce temperament. The smells burned his nostrils, and left his stomach nauseated. Far too many fragrances intermingling, none willing to compromise to the other. The lights were just as guilty, determined to set an intimate scene despite the obvious façade. The fabrics were bright, far too lavish, and often times revealing to provide a quick slip of clothes before delving into the job’s demands. Just as quick to conceal marks, and set off for their next target. Little more than assassins looking for their next meal ticket, enough to make his skin crawl. Not that he could blame them, their upbringing had been mangled as his own. Sold off by impoverish family members, they had been left to survive, much like the day he had taken to the mountain and left his own family behind. In the very same way, he had wielded various weapons snatched to his back in the dead of night, only daring to rest in the sunlight all those years ago, these women were just as lethal desperate to survive as himself. Parading as gentle, insightful women who tended to their proprietors willing to turn a favor to any coin, very few of them were in fact as kind as they claimed to be. Even less were compromising to their lesser attendants. Only a few baring gifts from their ward, more of them brandishing bruises and scratches. Smacked for the smallest of inconvenience, and baring the ravish of a scorned women confined to the life of servitude. Kamuros and shinzou alike, innocence robbed each night, bearing witness to the realities of the red-light district. He could feel the rage bubbling. He had always feared the chance of his own father coining his sisters off when he was a child, one of the many reasons Genya and he had worked so earnestly to care for their families. Their relief only realized in their father’s death. In his youth he had witnessed so many hardships, but being here. The familiar sear of incense, the telling whelps and bruises that formed at the corner of mouths of little girls, working to the bone despite the tears that threatened the corner of their eyes. Forced smiles, and facades of dreams, only reminded him of the girl he had left behind so many years ago. When his childhood had convinced him that he would experience happiness, a bride to call his own, and the hopes of a family on the way.

You were lovely in all the ways no one could compare. A demure smile that could captivate the heart of any man. Unusual hair color as pale as the sunlight, and as warm as the days of summer. Eyes that dared to captivate the sky, wide and furnished with long, thick eyelashes. Reticent despite such a young age. A gaze that danced across the lavish doll caught between your fingertips as you studied its features, so contrast to your own. Hair long and intricately weaved and pin with lavish hair pins, multiple kanzashi placed, an unusual sight for him at the time. Frozen in his tracks mid-delivery as he studied your delicate features, captivated by the sunlight under a Japanese maple whose leaves had already descended into waves of oranges and vivid reds. Such as the touch of rouge and blush that settled across your cheeks and lips, delicately painted. Brows drawn as you studied the doll, its black hair folded over your fingers. As well as the black painted eyes that deliberated your own. The heavy embellishments weaved into your intricate hairstyle were lavish, but nothing that compared to the many layers your small frame bore. Nearly wore down across the fabric. Vibrant folds and luxurious prints adorned over the fold of an attention drawing obi. He found himself leaning forward, his eyes tracing the stilt of your shoes, giving you height pass your natural frame. The enchanting length of your sleeves, a young Kamuro, he would later come to understand. For someone so beautiful, and obviously well cared for, the undeniable sorrow was visible. Stained upon your light make up, depicting a hidden hurt that he could not understand. Drawn to touch the surface, it was as though you were as beautiful as an untouched pond amidst this hidden garden. Only rippling at the boy whose fell forward, rolled off of steps and landed in a heap into your hidden world.

Your eyes, large and imploring, the startle gasp as you dropped your doll. Your surprise having drawn you backwards as, eyes tracing his silhouette. His clothing, far humbler than your own. The dirty covered samue covered with the day’s filth, and unassuming, a stark contrast to the intricate garments before him. The working class that derived from sweat and hard labor. The realization stilling his blood as his eyes met the ground, embarrassed to be caught in admiration of you. Especially given the circumstances. His intrusion into your seclusion far louder than he had expected, met with the growing realization that he very well could be beaten for having wandered into such an illustrious place. The growing commotion that grew from within the grand building, the raised voices of inquiring men, and that of shrills of surprised women. Your eyes having fallen to the doors of the veranda before falling back to him, your small steps rushed across the garden. Small, delicate fingers that clasped his own, pulling him from the ground. Tugging him behind you as you sought suffrage within the small grove of flourishing trees. Pressed against him, the shock radiating from his body as your small hand reached up to cover his mouth. Pressing a finger against your lips.

“[LN]? Are you alright?” a male had called. The clack of shoes again the stone work. The pounding in Sanemi’s heart becoming panicked and nervous, smacking your hand from himself. “[LN]?” the man called, pressing forward. Only to cause you to further lean on Sanemi. As though in some way your small frame could ever hope to conceal his own. Your eyes caught on the advancing man, an attendant he had surmised.

“Sato, I sent [FN] on an errand.”

The distinct shift in atmosphere was evident. As though the entire garden had fallen under a spell of a different kind. A sultry voice that commanded attention, grace in her languid movements. Sanemi dared to peek over his shoulder, meeting black eyes that could only be compared to the night sky, and hair detailing’s that mirrored your own unique style despite the obvious difference in color. The hue of the woman before him reflective of the most extravagant ink blocks only afforded by the higher-ups. Elegance tinged on the older woman’s features, carefully painted as she met the attendant’s gaze. A hidden venom that coiled in extravagant fabrics, more than those you adorned. As she tilted her head, peering down at the man before her. “M-Madam,” he had sputtered, quick to bow his head. “I-I had heard a noise, and I thought perhaps [LN] had fallen.”

“Sato, I will not repeat myself.”

“Y-Yes madam.”

The momentary glimpse his way that chilled his bones. Her gaze had softened, especially in comparison to the man who escaped to chores, desperate to evade her piercing gaze. The small smile she quipped before clasping her fan. Her movements fluid as a Tiger Keelback, relaxed in the grass. Evidence of her deadly behavior that had been briefly expressed now stripped from her features. Recoiled under the foundation of a tender smile, and slight nod at the package he had been intending to delivered, dropped where he had fallen through the gardens. The press of your body having slipped from his as the woman disappeared into the grand building, a knowing smile tucked on her delicately painted face.

Your mother, you had shared to him between stolen ohagi bites. A grand tayu, one of the highest rankings in the area at that. Your smile as wide and delighted to meet him as he had been to witness you. As beautiful as the leaves above you; he had understood your duty. Listened to you explain that you were a kamuro as you accepted his package in exchange for another. For him, you had pressed into his care. Extra ohagi intended for his siblings, a rarity they would enjoy, you had insisted. Promised that the house would not notice their missing. Ignoring his obvious discomfort and the annoyance his bashful nature had forced upon the both of you. Over redden cheeks, and unable to ignore the way that you had once again boldly pressed into him as you forced the lavish fabric into his hands before separated from him. Dismissed his insistence that he could not afford to replace such delicacies. After all, no one would notice that they had gone, not to worry. Pulling his delivery into your hands, and allowing your shoe to slip from your sock as you pressed onto the veranda. Earnest eyes that captivated the sunset, bored into him. The small, undeniable sorrow that he had witnessed before was beginning to show as you waved to him. “Please, visit me again,” whispered in secret.

A vow he had not broken tucked shyly to his heart.

Seizing the opportunity to visit you any time his deliveries took him to the pleasure district. Secret rendezvous tucked under Japanese Maple trees, split over tea and ohagi you had snuck from the kitchens. Each encounter growing warmer and more familiar. At times, he would bring Genya along, and others, he would sneak away at the first opportunity. Unwilling to admit that at times, he felt envious of the way his brother could captivate your attention. Your over willingness to lean into him often earning a series of curses, rough in speech and manners, and Sanemi only to receive the softest of giggles. Having thrived at his attention, and company, there were times you would insist on assisting in his deliveries to other brothels. Familiar with the landscape, you had insisted, and unwilling to admit that he didn’t want to depart from you just yet, he would often fold. Determined to preserve his pride. When you had dared to adorn a lesser kamuro’s old tattered kimono and covered your hair in the soot remains of a snubbed lantern of the night, daring to leave the confines of your employment, your fingers tugged at the hem of his samue… he had begrudgingly allowed you to follow after him. A secret just between the two of you. Spitting out a demand you release him before shyly grasping your hand and leading you through the town, muttering that you were far too much like a child. On these rare days out, you would whisper to Koto, and Sumi would assist you in securing him to your back despite Sanemi’s obvious fretting. Concern that his family had asked to much of you, or that such labor would be far too exhaust. Your whispered wishes of a life such as this hushing such worries. Days left to Shuya, Teiko, and Hiroshi’s teasing. The time his siblings would dare to reveal such matters to you. Such as the way he held your hand in a crowd, the way he rerouted his travels around move to avoid mucking your borrowed kimono, or that day at the river. When you had longed to dare to skim across the surface. How shyly you had peered into the water, in awe of him having dared to walk in to its shallows without a second thought. How he had watched you fumble over your kimono, determined to follow after him, but unfamiliar with the workings of fishermen, or how to tie back your clothing. How he had uttered curses, accusing you of being a child. How his knees had met the stones submerged in the river. Without hesitation, his white hair soft and bright, as puffy as the clouds above you. How your heart had hammered in your chest as his calloused fingers, unfamiliar to you as they grazed across your calf. His words as usual had been harsh, yet just like all the other times, his touch was gentle. Calloused from a lifetime of work, yet gentle in the way they regarded you regardless if it was protecting you from a snake that had wandered into a garden, or a patron who had become too casual, he always regarded you with such care despite his tongue. How his eyes had met yours, shy and sputtering a curse as your fingers threaded through his hair, because just one time… just one time, you had wanted to run your fingers through the snow touched strands. Naïve and oblivious to the way the blush crawled down his collar. Although, the truth was, Sanemi had realized that he had been the one naïve. From the blemishes that would be liter your cheeks when your mother was not looking to the day, he had found you cornered in the district.

The rocks that had pattered against your hands as you struggled to shield yourself. Words such as hafu, konketsuji, ainoko, and mutt littered the air. Having been caught in the rain, the soot was washed from your hair. Revealing you to the general public, and how they had scorned you. Rocks thrown from peers, random ones hitting their marks, revealing the depth of malice others outside of the pleasure district had regarded you, why you had insisted on staining your hair at each visit to the outside world. He had never considered, and without a second thought, he had pinned your assailant to the ground. Sanemi’s fists met with his cheek. Forced him to the ground, and berated him with every insult he could think of. Bitter and full of rage and ignorant to the shrill of the neighborhood kids fleeing his fury. The boy who was under him, now snotty and bloodied was still not enough to cool his temper. It wasn’t enough—he would never forgive them. Practically boiling over until he felt the all too familiar tug of fingers on the hem of his sleeve. Biting back the rage that threatened to spew, did his best to conceal his temper. His wide eyes met your own. The sorrow inevitable, that same sadness that he had witnessed so long ago under maple leaves. Your chin dipped to your chest, avoiding his gaze as you quietly requested your assailant’s release. And how he hadn’t wanted to. How he had swallowed his temper, met with your dejection. Your eyes unwilling to meet his own even as his fingers swept across your face. Grazed against the blossoming bruise at your cheek, and caught the tears that tinged the corner of your eyes. His gaze soft and mournful. How naïve he had been not to realize you had been suffering. Not to have realized the implications foreign born imparted on your life as the daughter of a courtesan. How artless he had been not to realized his growing feelings, or to understand the depths of his desires. Nor the nativity he had born as the words left his lips without a thought, a vow. A promise. To stop crying dam nit. Because one day, one day it wouldn’t be like this. One day, one day you would be home with him. That no one would ever hurt you again.

Fucking naïve.

The distant memories plagued him as he sat crisscross on a tatami mat adorned with cushions. His eyes trained on his drink and snacks. Ribbons hung throughout the brothel, lined in a variety of perfumes and incenses that burned his nose, and left him with the aching memory of a life he had longed for, and had abandoned after the loss of his mother. He had hoped, in some small way that perhaps, Genya had taken you for a bride. Although the little shit having made an appearance at the demon corps made it clear that certainly happened. The thought pissing him off as much as the overbearing scents that clung to detailed décor. Hints of gold and lacquered woods, rich in finery and portraying the wealth of the cliental the brothel owners captivated. Tucked into an inner room, his uniform having caught one of the courtesan’s attentions—mistakenly assumed him of a higher rank of the Imperial Japanese Army. Securing him a seat in the inner areas from prying eyes, an opportunity he wouldn’t waste. He had never had the opportunity to dive into the inner world of the district, not like Tengen had—not that the Wind Hashira had even considered bring tag along on his investigation. The underhanded method of dragging his wives into his business was one that had secured weeding the upper moon out, but was a technique he would not employ. In part because his rash decisions had simply taken hold of him, and he had left without much thought. The remainder of this route unavailability to him was that he neither wanted to include others in his analysis, and even less were willing to volunteer to work alongside him. So, this opportunity presented was a valuable one at that, one he would not waste.

Tucked beind sheer screens, the distinct pluck of a koto beginning to play. Another goddamn memory threatening to surface. You had spent hours practicing—Nope. Not fucking doing it. He bit back a bite of his snack, threatening the memory to remain buried from his presence as his large violet eyes surveyed his surroundings. Ribbons that hung decoratively from a variety of angles, intended to immulate the oiran’s kimonos if he had to guess their reason. Stupid at that, men clearly drowning in saki and desperate to escape their lives, and their wallets were veiled behind their own screens. From what he had gathered, one had in fact been a higher up—likely the reason the oiran who had guided him to this place had assumed he had been seeking a night off. Another, a rice man from a noble family that was bored of his second wife, although from the way he spoke, Sanemi had wondered how he had secured the first one. Brash, and demanding, and certainly not shy about grabbing at the waitresses. Their forced giggles revealing their annoyance as they gently reminded him that they were merely servants, not entertainers. Nothing worth pursuing in either of the occupants. Two places, he had discovered were empty, and available to incoming customers. Perhaps having too quickly busied themselves before big performance the oiran had promised him before ushering him in. Something about the Lady Kazaori’s impending betrothal allowing her only one more night of presentation, he had barbed at the name. Sending the oiran into a nervous fit, eager to be rid of the scarred customer. Fair enough. He had to remind himself that for courtesans, names meant little, and simply because the name bared familiarity didn’t mean… goddamn it this was pissing him off, he bit back another drink. His ears catching the koto and the murmured whispers of courtesans who had been invited to the booths next to him. One of the occupants having bathed in the attention offered, his sighs and teases evident as the drink on his breath and how heavy he sauntered. His words becoming nothing more than incoherent babbling, while the other resident had merely ignored the oiran’s interference. His eyes trained on the sheer screen before him. The courtesians desperate to draw his attention, having accepted that Sanemi was not willing to entertain them, or perhaps they were too afraid to inquiry. Not that he could give a shit, but something about the other man was different. Through delicate plucks on the koto, the enchanting melody that felt familiar to Sanemi’s ears, and warmed his heart. Goddamn it, his ears had managed to catch a snippet of the women’s conversation. “No one is paying attention to me.” A drawn-out pout intended to catch the man at her side’s attention, but fell on deaf ears. The man practically possessed by the performer before him.

“You should have known they wouldn’t,” one scolded. “He has always been Kazaori’s biggest fan. Besides, it’s Kazaori’s last night, you should wish her well.”

The indignant snort that retorted. “Why should I wish her well? Fate has done so itself.”

Pitter back and forth between the two, one clearly reserved and adjusted to her job, and the other ebbed in jealousy at the mere mention of the higher courtesan title the one Kazaori had earned. Bitter spats back and forth as the one woman had demanded the other remember her place, while the other could only lament that the Kazaori had secured a husband to be from a noble family. A second born of some beaucrat, born with a silver spoon his mouth. Apparently so enthralled by the tayu he had sputtered off some poem, and met with the keeper of the brothel without hesitation. Smacked double the woman’s amount without a second thought, even an additional fee for ensuring she would be ready in the days to follow. The woman obviously enamored by the idea of the other being spirited away, and perhaps wishing it for herself, the idea nauseated the wind hashira. The snip of bitter, “a hafu getting married like thaaa”. Hafu, the word barely processing before the woman’s voice had become mangled. The scream of her companion ringing in his ears and silencing the performance. Terror screeched across her features as she pushed pass the screens, desperate to flee the scene. The toss and clatter of her scatter leaving remnants of the once beautiful performance amuck. The toss of ornate furniture, women screaming and dashing. The imperial officer brandishing his weapon to no avail. Blood that spattered amongst the crowd. The glimpse of familiar sun-kissed hair, ushered by small kamuros before Sanemi had forced his way through the crowd. The demon who had masqueraded as a man having torn after the object of his affections. Leaving the woman whos throat he had crushed in ruins. Not even bothered to reveal in her flesh, discarded as though she were nothing more than mere garbage in his gaze.

Hand on his nichirin blade as he bolted down the halls, navigating the large building through the fury of screams and crying women who sought to escape. Blood quick to decorate—he was fast, but his trail leading Sanemi to the small form of a child, whose sobs were unmatched. Shrill, and screaming violently as the blood and snot marred her features. Her hair ornaments disarrayed, the hair on her scalp oozing, torn from their placement. The furniture she had smashed into severed beneath her light weight, glass littering her cheeks. He crouched down, his fingers grazing against her throat. Inspecting the bruising that had formed, but no clear abrasion. Nothing that had broken the skin. The bastard having merely tossed her in his wake, eyes too trained on the prize. Goddamn it. “L-Laadddy K-Kaa,” the little girl began to hick up in choked sobs. Her eyes meeting Sanemi’s. Fear marked into her skin, small… a child. She was just a child. “M-M-oonssste-“.

His found her hair. Gently twining his fingers across her scalp, gently patting her hair with care. “Did he take your lady?” Her tremble confirmed his question as he did his best to sooth her tears. “Where?” Her finger as his guide he offered one last soothing pat, “You did a good job, stay here.”

He was fucking livid. An internal storm that threatened to spew, a volcano that threated to erupt. The demon itself felt like a fucking waste of time, but goddamn it if he didn’t feel like the past was determined to fucking haunt him. The curse that he had spewed at the sight of you. From what he could gather, the demon had attempted to force itself upon you, promising eternity together. An offer you had refuted with a hair pin, jabbed with all of your might. Plunged into the side of his head, buried deep into his flesh, and irretrievable. Making the demon an easy target for Sanemi to slay, but goddamn he was pissed. From the way the bastard had dared to touch you, to taint your features with its very being. To the fact it dared to attempt to drag you into filth, to the fact that the very sight of you. Tears tinged at the corner of your eyes, your pride not allowing them to fall. Kimono torn open, hair unraveled and aslant. It was the fact that he hadn’t hesitated to captivate you in his arms. To trace calloused fingers of smeared rouge, inspecting your familiar face. The years had changed you, you had certainly grown. Merely the ghost of a child he had known before, to the very woman he had given his heart to so long ago. The shiver of recognition, your sky blessed eyes widening as you uttered his name. It pissed him off how he longed to hear you call his name once more, desiring to hear it between broken shudders. Your fingers clasped onto hem of his uniform like you had so many years ago. “Sanemi,” you whispered, begged him to look at you. Gritted his teeth as he attempted to turn from you. What pissed him off more than the fact that he had forgotten himself and embraced you as though you were still children longing for a fate that would never come—was that after all these years, here you were… waiting. Having risen through the ranks, claiming your mother’s title as your own, endured hardships he dared not think of, and yet, yet you looked at him with such adoration. As though you were still that little girl, faithfully waiting her fate… waiting. After all these years, you were still fucking waiting.

Soft fingers tracing the mar of his flesh, traced alongside the scars he had gathered through the years as you fell through broken sobs. He had told himself to leave, but the purr of your lips, the cries of disbelief that after all these years, he had come for you. You had money, you had sworn. Hidden away from sight, offered to him. Begged him to spirit you away, kidnap a bride before her day, to claim you as his own as he had sworn so many years ago. The press of your forehead against him, breathing in what you could only note as traces of spring that dared to escape your grasp. His heart settled against his ribcage for only a moment, whole and wishing for the day he had longed desperately for, but it was not to be.

“L-Lady, Kazaori!” a small voice cracked.

As though the chill of shifting winds had slid down his collar, your fingers still clutched to the hem of his uniform. His violet iridescent eyes found the little girl who charged through the entryway. Her hair still disheveled, the blood of her features only wiped half-assed as she wrapped around your waste. Her sobs staining the folds of your extravagant kimono. The Kamuro he had patted now stared up at him with wide yes, praising him between hick ups and attempting to catch her breath, and in the same fluid motion, she had brought him back to reality.

Wordlessly, his calloused fingers met your own, delicately unweaving their clutch on his clothing. Detaching himself from you, as though severing an invisible bond that you dared to reach for. Your shattered reality falling into your lap. The tears now falling, and out of grasp. He had separated from you, and in your heart, you knew what this moment was. What you had dreaded, and feared for all of these years. “S-Sanemi.”

The gentlest gaze, delicate. Fragile. The shatter of the wind of a cold night, distant and only enough to elicit shivers. Danced across snow flurries, and greeted the Japanese maple leaves. His smile curved and warm with all of the love he had held for you throughout the years. “Your husband is waiting.” Before slipping out the door, knowing all too well that he dared not look back. Dared not meet your broken gaze. Nor acknowledge the sound of knees meeting the wood floors, a collapse of distress, and the little kamuro far too innocent to the world of the pleasure district tired to console a broken woman. No, he did not dare. Because if he did, he would break, and in another life. He wouldn’t have to hesitate. Would not have to bid you farewell. Nor meet the cold air outside, this reality would not be his own.

No, in another life. His heart would be reeling from the yuinou. He would have been the one to present your mother with konbu, hemp, and dreams, with whatever money he had scrapped together from his jobs, with the hopes of growing old in one another’s embrace. In another life, it would be him beaming into the night air; him to protect you from your inheritance. Him to etch the memory of a furisode into his mind. Him to swear himself to you. Him to embrace you in the night, and his name you would bare, and the children to come. His name you would cry out, his touch you would lust for, and your body he would worship in adoration. It would be him. But in this life, he could only sever the bond of the girl who held his heart, and turn his back on the woman that faith had abandoned.

#sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #wind hashira #in another life

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thebibutterflyao3 · 4 months

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Day 7 - Prompt: Soft @pandalilymicrofics

February Daily Series - 662 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Pandora’s eagerness was immediately quashed when she turned to find a disappointed frown on Lily’s face. She cleared her throat and gestured toward the three paths that led away from the festival’s entrance. “Which one should we take?”

Lily blinked rapidly, then offered her a tight smile. “It doesn’t really matter. They’re all connected.”

“Oh. In that case, why don’t we go left? We’ll meet up with the others in the middle.”

“That’s fine.”

Pandora hesitated, then led the way down the left path. Behind her, she heard Lily inhale deeply and sigh again before following her. The soft swish of her braid against her jacket was the only sign she was still there as they made their way to the first stall.

Merde, this is awkward.

Pandora was still reeling from the impromptu introduction to the trio of stunning women. Then there was the lovely sound of Lily’s Welsh accent wrapping around the vowels in her name. Her heart was pounding wildly in her ears as the others paired off. It was all she could do to contain a shimmy of excitement when she realised that they’d been paired together.

But that’s not what Lily wanted.

“Are you hungry?” Pandora asked, glancing over her shoulder. She gestured at the row of food trucks lined up along the left side of the road. “I know it’s a bit early for lunch.”

“Not really. Are you?”

“No.”

Pandora adjusted her septum ring anxiously as she eyed the stalls filled with trinkets and handmade pottery. She couldn’t gauge Lily’s interest in their offerings while walking ahead of her, but when she slowed her pace, Lily did too. The woman persisted in maintaining a full two metres of space between them, despite the crowd gathering in the narrow path.

“Do you like pottery?” Pandora asked, nodding at the tent filled with ceramic plates and mugs.

“Not particularly.”

Every suggestion was met with the same tepid response. Pandora was teetering on the brink of annoyance with Lily’s disinterest. She was either incredibly bored or in a hurry to rejoin the group. Neither option was particularly flattering.

Eventually, she spotted a candle stand and decided to check it out. Pandora was more interested in Lily’s reaction to the detour rather than the candles themselves, but they did smell good. It was clever of the vendor to light one of the food-scented candles. Peppermint and fudge was a tempting combination.

“Bore da!” the woman behind the table asked, smiling brightly.

“Good morning,” Pandora replied politely.

When Lily stepped up to the table beside her, the woman reached for her hand and began chattering casually in Welsh. Lily’s accent deepened as their conversation continued and Pandora caught herself staring at Lily’s lips more than once, wondering how she made a language with so many harsh syllables sound melodic. She caught a reference to Lily’s “mam” and surmised that they were acquaintances.

“She’s quite well, she is,” Lily said, clasping the woman’s hand in both of hers. “Pob lwc today.”

“Diolch! Enjoy yourself, Liliana.”

“I will.”

After moving on to the next stall, one filled with fudge and sweets, Pandora couldn’t restrain herself from asking. “Is Lily short for Liliana?”

“No, it’s the opposite. It’s a nickname, of sorts.”

“Nicknames are usually shorter, no?”

Lily puffed an amused breath through her nose. “Not in Wales. My dad’s name is Liam and he is called ‘Liam dai chippy’ more often than just Liam.”

“Interesting. Liliana is pretty,” she said, eyeing the packets of fudge.

“Prettiest girl in the county, I’d say.” The older man running the stand winked at Pandora. “Good eye.”

“Oh, I meant her name is pretty. Her nickname, rather. Well, I think Lily is a pretty name too, and she is pretty too, of course, but I was referring to…never mind.” Pandora ignored the flush of heat filling her chest and rushing up her neck as she crouched down to sift through a basket of candies.

What am I blathering on about?

Next Part>>>

#pandolily #pandalily #lily x pandora #pandora lovegood x lily evans #pandora rosier #pandora lovegood #lily evans #marauders girls #the valkyries #marauders era

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quills-of-freedom · 1 year

Text

Short Story ~

First kiss with Reiner Braun 💋

Female Bodied Reader X Reiner Braun

You're just about halfway through cadets and the tension between you and Reiner has been thick for a while now. Caught in a downpour, his true gentleman self certainly shines through and you just can't seem to resist his authentic charm...

Tag list info here 🐙

Themes: Fluff. Soft.

Warnings: None.

It’s into year two of the cadets. Reiner finally has you all to himself as you browse the market stalls in the quaint town of the Trost District.

But a summer shower quickly dampens his already low spirits, knowing these feelings for you are strictly forbidden…

As the sky began to darken over Trost, Reiner glanced up at the gathering clouds and wondered if he should call it a day. He was reluctant to; it wasn’t very often he got to have you all to himself.

His golden eyes glanced at you as you pondered over the stall you were standing at – the vendor excited to show the wares. His eyes then fell to the pavement under his feet. You looked gorgeous as usual. The white dress hugged your curves and it flowed right down to just above the ankles. He’d noticed the glances you'd gotten from men, of course he did. He also noticed the second looks he had gotten.

Eyes filled with envy.

Those men thought you were a couple and Reiner secretly loved it. What he wouldn’t give for that to be true.

“Reiner?” Your soft voice called out, snapping his attention.

“What do you think of these gloves for Mikasa? They’d definitely help with her training.”

Sweet y/n.

Whenever you had spare money, you would spend it on your friends. Mikasa had been getting blisters from her pairing blade hilts. They’d joked she takes out her frustration towards Eren’s behaviour out on her grip; pretending they were his neck.

“Uh, yeah. I think they’ll come in handy, sure.” He replied half dazed.

“Everything okay?” you ask as you hand the salesperson the cash. “You seem a bit out of it.”

He instantly pulled up his usual facade. “Me? I’m fine. Looks like it’s going to rain though. We should head back.”

“Okay.” You smile slightly, taking the paper bag with the leather gloves inside. You both began to walk down the street back towards the barracks.

He silently kicked himself.

He wanted to take each step as slowly as possible, trying to wring out as much alone time as he could.

When did it get so bad?

If you didn’t have your swarm of friends around her constantly, and Bertolt didn’t act as his shadow, maybe he wouldn’t be so desperate to be alone with you in the first place.

Why did he even want that though?

He wasn’t dense. He knew he had a soft spot for you and despite his best friend’s warnings, he ignored his advice to stay away. It got worse and worse like an neglected cavity in a tooth. The longer he left it, the deeper you bore into him. He wondered if the pain of a toothache would be better than this constant yearning to be near you.

When did he become so pathetic? When did he become so… weak?

Reiner Braun was the strongest male in the 104th with the highest grades. Dedicated. Focused. Yet this H/C’d girl walking beside him with her sparkling e/c eyes could easily bring him to his knees.

He’d gone through the implications in his head over and over. His friends from back home wouldn’t approve. It’s not like they didn’t like you… In fact he was surprised how well you got along with them.

It was because they didn’t join cadets to fool around with beautiful women.

They were there to return home. Home… He wondered what his family would think of her. That was when he shook his head.

No.

There wasn’t any use in going down that trail.

“Oh no…” You wince as fat rain drops began to fall from the swollen clouds.

It was a summer day so you didn’t think to bring a jacket. In fact, none of your friends earlier had been wearing one.

Within seconds the heavy drops were crashing down all around you both, people ran for cover and merchants began to hurriedly set up a canopy over their goods.

Reiner grabbed your wrist and began to run.

With his free hand, he began undoing the buttons on his shirt.

“Summer shower.” He explained. “It won’t last long, but it’ll be a soaker.”

Women around you let out a squeal as a loud rumble of thunder echoed out over the town. Puddles were already forming as Reiner hurriedly led you down the clearing street. As you ran, water splashed around your ankles as the water was already collecting on the road.

“What are you doing?!” you called out over the loud crashing of water. “You’ll catch your death!” By the time you uttered the last word of your sentence, he whipped around and lay his large shirt over your head before returning to pull you along.

Not long after, you’d reached the stables where the transport horses were kept. It was deserted, being the cadets weekend off and were carting the soldiers to their home towns for the next couple of days.

“Dont want that pretty dress to be ruined, do we?” he joked, yet his face stayed serious.

“Reiner…” you whispered in awe, inaudible due to the crashing rain.

Reiner pushed open the large wooden door of the hay storage barn, before ushering you inside.

“Are you crazy?” you laughed once they were tucked in away from the downpour.

Beads of rain rolled down his bare flesh, trailing down his pronounced pectorals and solid abs.

Reiner shrugged. “Didn’t want you getting cold and wet.”

Your eyes softened gorgeously as he turned to rub his hand over his hair, getting excess droplets off him.

His back muscles flexed with every small movement before he turned back around, Goosebumps raising on his skin and his nipples hardening from the chill.

The barn was filled with the relaxing sounds of the heavy pattering of rain on the wooden roof above your heads. This was the side of Reiner you’d been waiting to see.

You knew he had it in him, underneath the crude jokes and the flirting attempts. He was a gentleman through and through. He just liked to hide it for whatever reasons you didn’t know.

His shirt was warm and his scent rolled off it into your nose.

You hadn’t realised how much you actually enjoyed his smell until now. It sent waves of comfort over you, like the smell alone was his big strong arms wrapping around your body, ensuring your safety and comfort.

Yes.

You’d decided.

You had been pondering on your feelings towards your classmate for a little while now and wanted to be sure. The torment of professionalism as well as distractions from training had been hanging over your head.

But there was just something about him that you were pulled to.

He jumped a little when you placed your soft hand gently on his forearm. The skin across the bridge of his nose and under his eyes instantly heated up, turning a hue of pink.

You were so close to him and he got what he always yearned for – for your skin to be touching his.

The next thing he knew you were reaching up and planting a tender kiss on his cheek.

The breath caught in his throat and that pinkness burned more brightly. Every muscle in his body tensed and his eyes enlarged slightly. But what really sent his chest thudding, was when you pulled the kiss away.

You kept your face close to his, now bearing the same pink hue. Your gorgeous eyes glistened, long lashes framing them beautifully. You smiled adorably, pulling at his shirt that was now draped across your shoulders.

“Thank you…”

You spoke softly, your hair a little messed up from the shirt, but it just made you look even more beautiful.

“For what…?” he replied in a haze.

“Being you…”

Those last words penetrated straight through his macho exterior and felt like they pierced into his heart, injecting some sort of warm fluid that quickly spread across his entire chest.

He didn’t even think.

It was like he went on auto pilot and his instincts just took over.

Placing the side of his index finger under your chin, he tilted your head up slightly and closed the gap between you, gently pressing his lips against yours.

His heart smashed against his solid barrel chest as you return the kiss, your lips softer than he had ever imagined them to be.

You run your hands up his shoulders and hung them, opening youe mouth a little wider as you kissed, giving him full permission to explore your mouth.

He did so without hesitation.

Sliding his tongue passed your sweet lips, he entwined it with yours.

It felt like fireworks and explosion were going off around him and he thought he could see stars behind his closed eyelids.

Having you kissing him and getting to be this close and intimate with you was the best feeling he’d ever had.

The adrenaline was richer and sweeter than any fight he’d been in or any training exercise.

It just felt perfect.

It began to get heated pretty quickly as your pace quickened slightly, deep exhales leaving his nose and his brow became furrowed and desperate.

You truly did make him feel weak.

He handles you gently. Although he knows you're strong, you also felt delicate, like his big lumbering body could break you at any moment.

Your fingers run through his hair and you press up against him, his arms wrapping around your form in a sweet embrace.

Although he thought he was the luckiest man alive to be able to kiss you, his body quickly began needing more.

He battled with it, keeping it under control and letting you now take the lead of the kiss.

You gently pull his pouty bottom lip with your teeth, making it that much harder for him to not throw you down and lift up that dress.

Instead, he settled for a pleased grunt, his brows creasing deeper as he became hungrier.

You slowly pulled away.

He pressed his forehead against yours, unable to hide the dumb grin that spread across his face as he caresses your hair with his right hand.

“What’s with that goofy grin?” you joked quietly; her sweet breath warm on his face.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He replied, his grin stretching further.

Smiling, you lower your head almost shyly at that titbit of information.

You then fix your eyes on his. “Really?”

“Of course…” he looked genuinely surprised. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“Oh stop.” You laugh.

He took your hand and placed it on his bare chest over his rapid heartbeat. His honey eyes not removing their gaze from yours. “I swear.”

You didn’t know what to say.

“Well, you have awful taste.” Was what you settled for.

But having Reiner Braun, of whom didn’t really catch your eye at first, now you'd gotten to know him, was extremely attractive; his chest bare and holding you close like this set a burning desire deep within you.

One that you would have to keep under control.

…For now.

You gently place your hand on his jawline before replacing your mouth onto his.

He let out a small unintentional exhale from his nose, more than happy to slide his warm tongue back inside of your mouth.

Your hands gently caressed his broad shoulders, pace quickening and teeth grazing his lip.

You didn’t want to let things get too heated too quickly, but battling your urges seemed like an uphill battle. He’d grown on you a hell of a lot over the last year and a half and having him hold you like this felt amazing.

As Reiner kissed you, he pushed away the little voice inside of his head that was telling him this was all a big mistake and he had just complicated things massively.

He didn’t care.

His feelings for you had always surpassed the doubts that swirled around in his mind. And now, knowing you had some reciprocating feelings it was incomprehensible that he would now turn his back on you.

He grazed his hand lightly up your arm as he slowly and almost gracefully devoured the inside of your mouth. Your skin was the softest thing he’d ever touched like some fine silk from a faraway land. He almost felt like he was ruining you, just by having his unworthy hands upon your flesh.

You pull away once again and he sealed the kiss with another gently peck.

“This is crazy…” you sigh, taking a step back. “We’re training to be soldiers.”

“I know how you feel, believe me.” He muttered, a frown tugging at his mouth. “But I think life’s a little too short to be putting good things on the back burner.”

You pondered on that for a moment.

He began to feel desperate. Now that he had your affections within his grasp, he wasn’t about to let them slip through his fingers.

“I mean…” he took a step forward and took your hand into his large pair. “I know I joke around a lot but you…”

He paused for a moment, choosing his words.

“I didn’t kiss you with the intention of just having you then leaving. …I want us to be together. Properly. Hell, if we weren’t in Cadets, I would be asking you to marry me right now.”

That blushing hue returned to his face as he shyly looked away, not used to spilling out his feelings like this.

But the humiliation and discomfort would be worth it if he managed to gain you as his own.

Again… When did I get so weak?

You do a better job than he at hiding the grin that was threatening to spread across your face.

Instead, your face matched his reddening tone.

“Are you saying… You love me, Reiner Braun?” you spoke softly.

He pushed away every instinct that told him to run and hide.

“Yeah. As a matter of fact, I am.” He replied steadily.

Now it was your turn to ignore her instincts to run.

“R-Reiner. It’s not that I don’t care for you too, I do. But… Ah, it’s complicated.” You grimaced. “I don’t know when.. uh… I’ll be ready to…” your face was almost glowing at this point.

“Hey hey…” he soothed. “Its okay. I love you. I don’t care about waiting.” His face returned to the familiar serious soldier expression you were so used to seeing during training. “Even if you’d wanna wait until after marriage. I don’t mind.”

You squirm uncomfortably. “Its not that. Maybe we can talk about it… Another time?”

It perplexed him but he didn’t mind. “Of course.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“So…?” He melted back into that cheeky smirk.

The classic Reiner grin. Mischievous and cunning.

“You wanna give this a shot?”

You had noticed the rain had slowed to a stop, the clouds had moved on and the sun was shining once again.

You'd known Reiner now for almost two years. Spent every single day pretty much in his presence. You'd worked together, laughed together and well… Now this.

You reminded herself how strong that urge was to kiss him only minutes ago. Why you initiated closeness in the first place. Your mind fluttered through the pages of your recent memories and how he had been making you feel these days, and how your eyes have been lingering upon him a little longer than you'd have liked.

You let out a sigh before smirking back at him. “Sure. But don’t get comfortable now. Just because you have me doesn’t mean you can start slacking your charm.”

You playfully pushed his cheeks together with your index and thumb, resulting in a chuckle rumble from his broad chest.

“I swear it.” He grinned, kissing her.

“Come on. We’d better head back.” You smile, handing him back his shirt.

#reiner brainrot #reiner x you #reiner x reader #snk x reader #reiner braun #reiner fluff #aot headcanons #snk x y/n #snk

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