#I caught dragon fever again-

[snowy-spirit]

This is for @calcium-cat!

Unfortunately, I found myself in a rainy sort of mood and did a little bit of young Dream being remorseful (in reference to Chapter 12 of OSD).

I pulled the lyrics from “I’ll be Good” by Jaymes Young. I’m not sure how anyone else thinks, but I think it suits the OSD apple twins very well—especially with the two most recent chapters!

But during class earlier, I was too tempted and started attempting—keyword, attempting—to draw a little dragon Dream for an idea I mentioned in a reblog of Cal’s recent New Years post. I hope you like him!!

Also, most of these were in my Rocketbook, ahaha…

[yandere-wishes]

⭒ㅤׂ ɪ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʙᴇ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇㅤׂ ⭒

⭒ㅤ𓈒 Yandere!WuWa! Men x Reader 𓈒 ⭒

゜⌒ヽ❥ Dark Romance

°•❃•°

꒷꒦꒷Scar | 伤痕

Your fear tastes like nectar, thick and sweet, and sacrilegious. Scar gulps down your apprehension in starving strides. Cradling the burn between his teeth, savoring the sensation of the embers coiling and seething inside his veins. You're too perfect, thrashing underneath him, caged and defiant his little lost lamb. trying to flee, begging for freedom like a fever dream high. He licks your iridescent tears with zealous maniacal jubilation. Relishing in the soft warm flesh of your cheek marinated in your woe. He wants to taste them every day, force them from your pretty petrified eyes with scorching kisses and touches that shatter your very bones.

Scar's talons etch jagged filigrees across your body engraving terrors and torments all parodying "I love you". But he can't love, not really, love is too gentle too vain, he needs to consume, to feel the reverberations trapped between your bones. Scar's kisses burn wakes down your spine, slipping between the vertebras. Hollowing out your essence piece by piece, his hunger knows no bonds, refusing to dwindle until he's bled every delicious part of you dry. Until he feels your heart between his teeth.

˚✶˚Jiyan | 忌炎

You trace his markings, nails gliding gingerly through the jagged crystals of his tacet mark. He kisses the hollow of your palm, basking in the sweet giggle you gift him. You're his precious treasure, a sweet gem imported from the silk roads themselves. He'd do anything to keep you safe binding your soul to his tattered one. Jiyan is the Qingloong that everyone looks up to, the indestructible pillar of Jinzhou. And yet a simple smile from you is all it takes to shatter his illusion of strength.

Between patients, his mother would sometimes grace him with fables about Dragons, not Loong, not the creature their nation worshiped but Dragons monsters from the western nations. She'd tell him How they hoarded exotic treasures from all corners of the world. Growing powerful in the light of other's envy. They did anything to protect their gold coins and pearl necklaces, kill, and maim in the name of obsession. Back then he'd found such creatures disgusting, dubbed it blasphemy to even mention them in the same breath as the deific Loong. Now he thinks he's more dragon than Loong. Hoarding you away keeping you only to himself. Promising to maul any who try to rob him of your sweet kisses and angelic laughter.

𒆜Calcharo | 卡卡罗

You come prepackaged with a soft smile and a docile heart. Calcharo thinks it's all from the privilege of having lived a satisfactory life. Cherished, overfed, protected. All the things stripped of him so young. He shouldn't be jealous though, after all, he has the complacency to thank for turning his darling into such an ideal doll. Jejune and helpless, shivering under his cold touch. He harbors you between his thighs, enjoying the way your pearl-kissed dress pools on the floor. An ivory testament to the innocence he so craves. Calcharo's calloused fingers entrap the hollow of your hips pulling you harshly against him, he can't get enough of you. His lips kiss the dip of your neck nose bumping the back of your ear. Enraptured by the floral scent of your perfume.

You tried to run again today, flee when he'd been out escorting a merchant across the desert terrain. His men had caught you, binded you all pretty and left you in his chamber. He flashes you a crooked smile upon entry. Watching as you struggle and glare knowing damn well it won't change a thing. "Really little rabbit? I thought we had ceased playing such foolish games." He grasps your chin pulling you closer, your knees slide across the wooden floor scuffing from the friction. His cold lips trace your own as he whispers degradations laced with romance. Calcharo leans down for the kill, a lethal crushing kiss. Trapping your lips and engulfing your essence. Laughing when you're foolish enough to return the favor. You shiver and moan and it takes every bit of willpower not to devour you right then and there.

☄Mortefi | 莫特斐

The universe reverberates to a familiar tune when he first sees you. Singing a melody he swears he's heard each night when he lays his wry head to rest. What kind of creature are you? A cacophony of starsongs and golden echoes. He longs to touch you, to permit his flames to traverse your body searing you until you shine with the purity you all so deserve. He loses himself in the melody of your voice, the lost tune of a fading nova. Something too ethereal to be of this crude world.

Mortefi fancies himself a scientist and takes utmost pride in the way his mind curves around a problem. Floating through the riddles seeking answers in the dark. He can fix anything, create anything. And yet you stand before him defiant of his understanding. Mortefi grabs you by the collar, cradling a rogue sun within his palms, kissing its rays trying to grasp comprehension between his teeth and swallow it whole. It doesn't work by the end of the kiss you are still an anomaly and he is still a scientist wearing the heart as some hapless love-struck schoolboy. The need to understand you grows claws tearing at his mind, desperation pierces his throat whenever he catches a mere glimpse of you. He needs to understand, to tear you open and choke your secrets.

҉　Aalto | 秋水

Aalto's fingers weave through your hair, silk traversing through bone and flesh, flowing free in the aero he produces subconsciously. He cradles you delicately in his arms, trying his best to ignore the sour frown etched upon your face. He creates fables, spinning stories out of silk and air trying to win your interest with tales of stray sheep and fallen stars. Of lost treasures on the jade road and little girls with fire flowing through their veins. Your frown doesn't falter.

He kisses you again, and again and again. Trying to pry out adoration and devotion from between your bones. He struggles, whining about detesting and freedom. It sounds so trivial especially when he can give you everything your heart desires. He can't let you go, not when his very essence aches to feel you between his arms. Aalto wonders what stories he must make to erase that blood-curdling frown of yours. What information does he need to lay out your feet for you to grace his lips with your own? A lover's kiss, not whatever this is. I love you he whispers, he doubts you even care.

Let me know what you think. Should I do yandere Jiyan x reader x Yandere Calcharo next? ~💜

[lizzyiii]

hey, so ur works are literally heaven in itself (im in love with u)

you guys reading my works are what validate me in life (i'm so in love with you too, babe)

Scales and Arpeggios

pairing | aemond x wife!reader word count | 4.3k words summary | aemond and his wife share tender moments with their children, engaging in music lessons that bring warmth and joy to their family amidst the shadows of the dance of dragons.

note | slight angst, hotd au (greens win), KING AEMOND, toothrotting fluffff, children, no description of reader, fluffy Aemond, soft aemond, pregnant!reader a/n | aristocats inspired (duchess and her kittens), I thought of this this morning. I really needed this fluff after all my negative thoughts and feelings. also don't worry, I have all my requests in the making, and in my draft's - prepare for the angst and feels.

likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Aemond was tired.

Day upon day, his life was mired in endless council meetings, audiences with quarrelsome lords, and grievances of the peasantry, all in the name of healing a realm ravaged by war.

It had been two years since the Dance of the Dragons had torn through the land, yet the scars remained, as fresh as the charred ruins left in the dragons’ wake.

And here he was, King of the Seven Kingdoms—but at what bitter cost. He had bested Daemon in the fierce clash over the God’s Eye, and his half-sister, the self-styled Queen, had been devoured by her own madness.

She met her end as Sunfyre tore her asunder upon Aegon’s command. Not long after, Aegon himself succumbed to his wounds, leaving the crown a hollow prize.

Aemond had defeated the Blacks. The traitors were vanquished, their cause snuffed out. But his family had been taken in the fires of war. Jaehaerys murdered; young Maelor torn apart; Daeron slain.

Helaena, dear Helaena, had taken her own life. And Aegon—Aegon had burned away with his dragon, his defiance crumbling under the agony of his wounds.

All that remained of his bloodline were fleeting shadows of memory and ashes of kin. Only his wife, the woman bound to him since he was but fourteen, remained steadfast.

Through the dark days of the war, you had been his only constant, his sole source of solace. In the end, that was all he had left: his bride, his son Aeron, his niece Jaehaera, and his mother, Queen Alicent, who clung to life with a frail resilience.

It was his wife, too, who had stayed his hand when he considered the fates of Daemon’s daughters. You had urged him to spare the lives of Baela and Rhaena, allowing them sanctuary with their sole surviving brother, Aegon the Younger, now far away in Driftmark.

And yet, his mother had been torn asunder by grief, the madness that followed the loss of three of her children consuming her like a wildfire. Just months ago, Alicent had succumbed to the cruel grip of Winter Fever, and with her passing, the warmth of their family had dimmed further.

He blamed himself, for in his fervor to protect his own—the children he adored and his beloved wife—he had allowed himself to be blind to his mother’s decline. Each day, he devoted himself to the care and nurturing of Aeron and Daenys, ensuring Jaehaera felt the presence of family, while the ever-looming responsibilities of the crown overshadowed his duties as a son.

Now, he barely caught glimpses of the life that remained. He would rise in the early hours, the dawn light casting a soft glow upon his wife’s sleeping form, a fleeting moment of peace before he was swept away by the relentless tide of royal obligations.

In the fleeting minutes before he departed for court, he could only admire the serene lines of your face, knowing that the day would steal him from your side again.

The children were no better; brief encounters in the corridors felt like whispers of a past he could hardly grasp. Aeron would be playing with his toys, and Daenys might be crawling after the palace cats, laughter echoing softly in the halls, but those joyful sounds seemed distant, muffled by the duties that consumed him.

But on this day, a flicker of fortune shone upon him; he had managed to complete his duties earlier than usual. Typically, he toiled long into the night, only to return to the warmth of their chambers when all were asleep. Though it was after supper, a glimmer of hope sparked within him that perhaps he could still find them, to grasp those precious moments he had so dearly missed.

Through the dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep, the young Prince Aeron and Princess Jaehaera raced, their laughter echoing against the cold stone walls as they hurried toward the music lesson that awaited them. The air was filled with the thrill of their spirited competition, each eager to claim the title of first to arrive.

As they rounded a corner, Jaehaera noticed Aeron pulling ahead, determination etched across his small face. In a quick, daring move, she reached out and tugged at his tunic, managing to pull him back just enough to dart ahead. “Me first!” she shouted, her voice ringing with triumph.

Not to be outdone, Aeron swiftly grabbed hold of her arm, attempting to halt her advance. “And why should you be first?” he challenged.

Jaehaera strained against his grip, lifting her chin defiantly as she met his gaze. “Because I am the future queen, that’s why!” she declared, her voice bold and unwavering.

With that, she broke free, dashing down the corridor, but Aeron was quick on her heels, bumping her to the side in a playful shove that almost sent her sprawling against the wall. “You’re not a queen! You’re nothing but my cousin!” he yelled.

Jaehaera shot him a fierce glare, her brows knitting together. “I’ll show you if I’m a queen or not,” she murmured under her breath, determination simmering in her tone as they neared the door to the music room.

In a last-ditch effort to claim victory, Jaehaera pushed Aeron aside just as they reached the threshold. He stumbled slightly but quickly regained his footing, throwing a frown her way. “Fight fair, Jae!”

Without missing a beat, she rolled her eyes and slipped into the room, only to be met with an unexpected shove from Aeron as he followed closely behind. He hadn’t meant to, but the force sent Jaehaera tumbling to the ground with a hard thud that echoed in the hall.

She shot him a fierce glare, her lips forming a pout as she rubbed her side. “Now that hurt!” she exclaimed, the hint of a whine creeping into her voice.

“Aunty! Aunty!” she called out, her tone shifting to one of urgency.

Moments later, you entered the room, carrying Daenys on your hip. A mixture of sternness and affection danced on your face as you regarded the two children. “Jaehaera, my darling, Jaehaera,” you said, your voice firm but softening with a smile. “You must stop that; it is really not ladylike.”

Your gaze shifted to Aeron, your tone turning slightly admonishing. “And you, Aeron, such behavior is most unbecoming of a lovely gentleman.”

Aeron’s cheeks flushed, and he scowled at Jaehaera, ready to defend himself. “Well, she started it,” he retorted, crossing his arms defiantly.

Jaehaera, unfazed, lifted her chin in a gesture of regal disdain, pointedly turning her gaze away from him. “Queens do not start fights,” she declared, her voice dripping with authority. Then, with a scrunch of her nose, she added, “But they can finish them.”

Aeron rolled his eyes dramatically at Jaehaera, sticking out his tongue in mockery, but the jest was short-lived as he heard his mother’s voice call out from across the room. “Now, Aeron, don’t be rude,” you scolded, your tone firm but laced with affection.

He turned to you, flashing an innocent smile, his eyes wide with feigned innocence. “We were just practicing fighting and pushing,” he replied, his words punctuated by an exaggerated shrug that only added to the mischief of the moment.

You felt a jolt of discomfort at his words, a wave of haunting memories crashing over you. The echoes of past conflicts flickered in your mind—battles fought and lives lost, the heavy price of such lessons. “Targaryens do not practice fighting and pushing and things like that,” you replied, your voice low, the irony of your own words hanging heavily in the air. “It is just horrible.”

With a determined effort, you sought to redirect the conversation and lighten the mood. “Now,” you began, your expression softening as you turned your gaze to Daenys, nestled in your arms, her tiny form clearly on the brink of sleep.

You smiled adoringly at her, a sense of calm washing over you as you looked back at Jaehaera and Aeron. “Why don’t you two head over to the piano, and let’s begin our lesson?”

“Yes, Aunty!” Jaehaera chirped, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as she practically danced toward the instrument, subtly shouldering Aeron aside.

Aeron glared at Jaehaera, his indignation flaring up momentarily, but he quickly turned to you with a soft nod. “Yes, Mama,” he replied.

“It’s time to practice your scales and your arpeggios,” you encouraged, as you moved toward the piano. You settled onto the chaise beside it, Daenys resting her head comfortably against your shoulder, her eyes half-closed as she watched her brother and cousin with a sleepy fascination.

Jaehaera stood poised beside the grand piano, her back straight and shoulders squared, a picture of determination. She cleared her throat, the sound echoing softly in the air, and waited expectantly for Aeron to begin.

However, she cast him a pointed glare as he took his sweet time, leisurely warming up his hands as if the lesson were no pressing matter.

Finally, after an impatient moment, Jaehaera announced, “I’m ready, Maestro,” her voice ringing with a blend of authority and hautiness.

Aeron shot her a sideways glance, his mischievous grin returning as he subtly shifted his foot and stomped down hard onto Jaehaera’s, eliciting a sharp squeak from her.

“Aunty, he did it again!” she exclaimed, turning her wide eyes toward you, indignation clear in her voice.

Aeron, unfazed, looked away, propping his chin on his hand with an exaggerated air of nonchalance. “Tattletale,” he whispered in response.

You carefully rubbed Daenys' back, the gentle motion soothing your daughter. Your patience was unwavering, as you said, “Now, Aeron, please, darling, settle down and play me your pretty little song.” Your voice was calm, and your tone both firm and nurturing.

With a resigned sigh, Aeron nodded, his playful demeanor shifting as he positioned himself at the piano. “Yes, Mama,” he murmured, fingers poised above the keys. As he began to play, the room filled with the soft, melodic strains of his music.

Aemond was at a loss, frustration tightening his chest as he searched the sprawling halls of the Red Keep for you. He had scoured your shared chambers, his personal solar, and the children’s bedrooms, but you were nowhere to be found.

The sinking feeling in his gut only grew as he realized he needed assistance, and at last, he sought out one of the guards stationed nearby.

The guard cleared his throat and straightened slightly, sensing the prince’s impatience. “At Her Grace's music lessons, sire,” he replied, his tone respectful.

“Music lessons?” Aemond murmured to himself, brow furrowing in confusion. He had not realized such an event was taking place, nor had he been informed of it.

Without another moment's hesitation, he rushed in the direction indicated, making his way down a seldom-used wing of the castle, its walls lined with faded tapestries and the whispers of history.

As he drew closer, he heard the unmistakable sound of a piano, its notes cascading through the air like a gentle stream, drawing him forward.

Coming closer to the door, he opened it quietly before he peeked his head inside, his heart melting at the sight as he heard Jaehaera's voice.

"Do mi sol do do sol mi do," the girl of six summers sang, her voice young and somewhat pitchy as she sang confidently, "Every truly cultured music student knows. You must learn your scales and your arpeggios Finger music ringing from your chest And not your nose. While you sing your scales and your arpeggios"

Aemond stood just beyond the doorway, a swell of pride filling his chest as he watched his five-year-old son, Aeron, seated at the piano. The boy’s fingers danced across the keys with a mixture of enthusiasm and concentration, his small face lit with determination.

To Aemond’s surprise, Aeron broke into song as well, his voice sweet yet tinged with the tremor of youth. “If you’re faithful to your daily practicing, you will find your progress is encouraging,” he sang, each note imbued with his budding confidence.

Beside him, Jaehaera stood, arms crossed and a hint of exasperation in her eyes as she rolled them subtly at Aeron’s exuberance. Aeron continued, his voice growing bolder yet still wavering, “Do mi sol me do, mi sol me fa la sol, it goes. When you do your scales and your arpeggios.”

Jaehaera lifted her voice to sing her part again, “Do mi so do,” but she was abruptly cut off by Aeron, who had become overly enthusiastic at the piano, his fingers now racing across the keys with fervor.

“Do mi sol do, do sol mi do,” you chimed in, your voice ethereal and melodic, casting a gentle spell over the room. Aemond found his gaze drawn to you, the light catching your features as you sang alongside the children.

Jaehaera quickly fell in with you, her voice harmonizing beautifully, “Do mi sol do, do sol mi do. Though at first it seems as though it doesn’t show, like a tree, ability will bloom and grow.”

In your arms, Daenys, who had previously been drifting off to sleep, now sat wide awake, her bright eyes filled with wonder as she attempted to mimic the words you and Jaehaera sang. Her babbling intermingled with the melody.

The three of you continued in unison, your voices intertwining, “If you’re smart, you’ll learn by heart what every artist knows. You must sing your scales.....and your arpeggios.”

Aemond leaned against the doorframe, a small smile gracing his lips as he took in the delightful scene unfolding before him. The flickering light of the candles cast a warm glow across the room, illuminating the joy radiating from his children.

Aeron beamed at you, his face aglow with pride as the final notes of the song faded into the air. “How was that, Mama?” he asked, his bright eyes shining with eager anticipation.

You turned to him, your heart swelling with affection. “Absolutely wonderful, my love,” you replied, your voice laced with warmth and encouragement. Just as you opened your mouth to add more praise, a small, excited voice broke through the moment.

“Kēpa! Kēpa!” Daenys cried out, her tiny hands clapping together in delight, her wide lilac eyes fixed on the door where Aemond stood.

All three of you turned your attention toward the threshold, and Aemond couldn’t help but feel a slight flush of warmth at the sight of his little girl’s enthusiasm. He stood there, somewhat awkwardly.

“Do you wish to join us, my king?” you teased gently, a playful amusement dancing in your tone as you gestured for him to enter.

Aemond gave you a small smile before striding into the room, the familiar weight of his crown momentarily forgotten in the presence of his family.

Daenys, her cherubic face lighting up with excitement, eagerly raised her arms toward him, and he scooped her up effortlessly from your embrace, her giggles filling the air. “I was not aware there were music lessons in the first place,” he remarked, an amused glimmer in his eye.

“Merely for the children’s entertainment, I assure you,” you replied softly, your heart warmed by the sight of your husband.

Aemond shot you a skeptical glance, an eyebrow arching slightly as he nodded. “Oh, I am sure,” he replied, a hint of teasing lacing his tone.

“Father, did you see how I played?” Aeron asked eagerly, his small hands still resting on the piano keys, a bright grin spreading across his face.

“Yes, I did,” Aemond said, his expression softening as he smiled down at his son. “Much better than any bard I’ve heard.” The pride in his voice was unmistakable, and Aeron beamed at the praise.

“And did you see how I sang, uncle?” Jaehaera chimed in, her voice a melodic chime that danced through the air like the notes of the piano.

“Yes, of course,” Aemond replied, nodding with genuine admiration. “One day, you might even come to rival the Queen’s voice.” The compliment brought a bright flush to Jaehaera's cheeks, her eyes sparkling with delight.

“She’ll be even better than me,” you murmured, a soft smile gracing your lips as you watched the exchange unfold.

As the children chattered excitedly, desperate for their King's attention, your gaze drifted to the doorway, where you spotted your maid, Emery, standing patiently, signaling that it was time for bed.

You cleared your throat gently, drawing the children's attention back to you. “Children, it’s time to go to bed,” you announced softly, your voice laced with warmth yet firm.

Aeron turned to you, his wide eyes shimmering with innocence as he clasped his hands together in a pleading gesture. “Do we have to, Mama? Father just got here,” he implored, his lower lip jutting out in a way that made your heart ache.

You sighed, feeling your resolve weaken under the weight of his pleas. However, Aemond came to your rescue, his hand affectionately ruffling Aeron’s fluffy silver hair. “And I’ll come say goodnight once you are in bed, little king,” he promised, his voice soothing and reassuring.

You tilted your head toward the door, giving a gentle nudge. “Emery is waiting for you,” you murmured, the soft authority in your tone guiding them toward the inevitable.

Disappointment flickered in both Jaehaera’s and Aeron’s eyes, yet they nodded reluctantly. Jaehaera approached your side and planted a tender kiss on your cheek, her small frame radiating warmth as she bid you goodnight.

Following her lead, Aeron hurried to do the same, his kiss lingering a moment longer before he bent down to press his lips against your swelling stomach, his sweet gesture eliciting a smile from you.

Aemond, observing the tender moment, passed baby Daenys into your arms. She giggled excitedly, her laughter a delightful sound as you smothered her with kisses, before you handed Daenys to Emery, who was prepared to lead the children out.

As the soft patter of little feet faded down the corridor, the lively laughter and chatter of the children ebbed away, leaving you and Aemond cocooned in the warm embrace of the cozy chamber.

A serene silence enveloped the two of you, a precious moment amidst the storm of duties and the remnants of grief that lingered in the air.

“Hello, husband,” you greeted softly, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to shatter the comfortable stillness that settled between you.

“Hello, wife,” Aemond murmured in return, his tone low and warm as he lowered himself onto the piano bench beside you.

With a gentle grace, he let his hand drift over the piano keys, pausing just short of touching them. It was a silent acknowledgment of his lack of skill, yet he seemed fascinated by the instrument nonetheless.

You watched him, the lines of his face illuminated by the soft glow of the chamber, and felt a pang of affection.

“I apologize for not informing you about the lessons,” you said, your voice steady yet filled with sincerity.

“Tis alright,” he replied, though his gaze remained fixed away from you, a flicker of concern shadowing his features. “When did it begin?”

“The day of your mother’s funeral,” you replied gently, choosing your words with care. “Your duties had taken you away, and Aeron and Jaehaera were feeling very down. I thought music might lift their spirits, and it has. Jaehaera even asked me to teach her to sing and play.”

At the mention of that day, Aemond’s expression shifted. Guilt washed over him, and memories flooded back—his mother’s service at the Sept, the heavy atmosphere of sorrow, and how he had been swept away in the currents of his responsibilities, never given a moment to truly mourn.

He nodded thoughtfully, his voice barely above a whisper. “Aeron seems particularly skilled.”

“He is a very intelligent little boy,” you agreed, your eyes not leaving his as he continued to stare at the piano, lost in thought. “He has an eagerness to learn that reminds me of you.”

Aemond chuckled softly, the sound breaking through the solemnity that hung in the air. “I fear he has far more talent than I ever did,” he said, a hint of pride seeping into his words. “But I’m glad to see them find joy in something so beautiful.”

“Music has a way of healing,” you remarked, a wistful smile playing on your lips. “Especially in times like these.”

He turned to face you fully, his piercing violet eye searching yours. “And what of you? How do you fare amidst the shadows of loss?”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his concern. “I carry the grief, as we all do. But I find solace in our children. Their laughter reminds me of the light we can still find in our lives.”

Aemond’s gaze softened, and he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing over yours with an intimacy that sent warmth coursing through you. “You are stronger than I,” he said earnestly. “I often wonder how you manage to bear the burdens we both carry.”

With a gentle squeeze of his hand, you replied, “We bear them together, my king. That is what family is for.”

Aemond's brow furrowed slightly, and he murmured, “Aeron... he shall be a better king than I.” His voice held a weight of expectation and uncertainty, a reflection of his own doubts.

You turned your gaze toward him, a hint of sadness flickering in your eyes as you stood and swiftly settled beside him on the bench.

Reaching out, you cupped his face in your hands, grounding him with your touch. “Only because he shall learn from your mistakes. Every king should be better than the former.”

Aemond stared into your eyes, his heart swelling with gratitude. In truth, he had often wondered what he had done to deserve your steadfast presence. Memories washed over him—of the day he first met you when he was merely fourteen, a boy angry and hateful at the world.

He leaned his forehead against yours, finding solace in your warmth. “You are very wise, my queen. You never lead me astray.”

“Destiny has its designs,” you replied softly, a small smile gracing your lips. “And I am merely fulfilling mine. To guide you, to stand by your side.”

He chuckled lightly, the sound a blend of affection and admiration. “Even when I do not deserve it?”

“Especially then,” you countered, your tone playful yet sincere. “Every king needs a queen to keep him grounded, to remind him of what truly matters.”

Aemond took a deep breath, the weight of the realm and his responsibilities momentarily lifted. “And what is that, my love?”

You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It is love, loyalty, and the hope for a better tomorrow. The kind of future we want for our children.”

Aemond leaned back, a rare lightness settling in his chest for the first time in what felt like an age. He placed his hand over your round belly, feeling the warmth radiate from within. You tilted your head, an amused smile blossoming on your lips as you caught his gaze.

“Aeron has taken to kissing my stomach,” you said, your tone playful. “He believes that if he shows enough affection, it might persuade my body to grant him a brother. He claims it would make his chances of having a fair fight against the girls much better.”

Aemond chuckled, shaking his head in bemusement. Then, nodding toward the piano, he added, “Teach me. I may never reach the heights of Aeron’s talent, but perhaps I could aspire to match little Daenys’ skill.”

Your laughter chimed like music in the air, a sound that warmed his spirit. Aemond grinned at the absurdity of comparing his potential to that of his infant daughter. “Very well,” you said, your eyes sparkling with delight. “First, let us see what you can do.”

You guided him closer to the piano, instructing him to place his large, slender hands over yours on the keys. “Feel the movement,” you encouraged, your voice soft and patient. “It’s not merely about the notes; it’s about the rhythm and the heart behind them.”

Unbeknownst to you and Aemond, enveloped in your own intimate world, three pairs of curious eyes peered in from the slightly ajar door of the chamber. Jaehaera, Aeron, and little Daenys had quietly slipped away from their caretakers.

Jaehaera, though only six years of age, sighed wistfully as she watched her uncle and aunt. “How romantic,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with a sense of longing.

She cradled baby Daenys in her arms, the infant unusually calm, her wide eyes reflecting the gentle glow of the room as she took in the scene of her mother and father together.

Aeron, standing beside Jaehaera, observed his parents intently, a thoughtful frown furrowing his brow. “Do you think our marriage will be like that?” he asked, glancing over at Jaehaera to gauge her reaction.

Jaehaera turned to him, her gaze sharp and serious, her little brows furrowing in determination. “It has to, Aeron. It has to.”

“Do you think we’ll be that happy?” he pressed, his youthful innocence shining through, even as the shadows of doubt crept into his mind.

She nodded vigorously, her long silver hair bouncing with the motion. “Of course! The king and queen love each other. If we love each other like they do, it will be just as wonderful.”

Aeron pondered her words, his gaze drifting back to the sight of you and Aemond, lost in your shared moment. “And what if…” he hesitated, searching for the right words. “What if things become difficult, like they do in the stories?”

Jaehaera frowned slightly, her youthful optimism momentarily faltering. “Then we fight for each other, just like they do,” she declared with conviction.

Aeron nodded, a small smile creeping onto his face. “I like that idea,” he said softly, his gaze drifting back to the happy scene of his mother and his father.

“We’ll make it the best story ever.”

[Jaehaera, Aeron, Daenys]

headcannonsss:

— aemond and reader end up having six children in total: aeron (18), daenys (15), mikael (13), jaemes (10), elaena (7) and aelora (4) + jaehaera (19)

— aeron and jaehaera marry

— daenys falls in love with aegon (rhaenyra's son)

— mikael comes out as gay

— jaemes and elaena marry

— aelora refuses to marry and part with her mother (sophie/donna relationship)

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!

[novaursa]

To Hold Back The Night

- Summary: The Stranger was a familiar companion for you. And Jace decides to hold your hand while you dream of death.

- Paring: sister!reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

Everybody dies.

They call it “living,” but in truth, it’s just dying slowly, one breath at a time. You know this because you see it—every death, every scream, every fire-laced ruin. You die each time your eyelids close. You dream, not of soaring, nor of love, nor even of warmth, but of endings. And though you live now, you have died before. You died even before you were born. And you will die again and again, caught in this endless cycle of death and rebirth, trapped in the web of time’s cruelty, a flame only destined to burn itself out.

Tonight, you stand alone on the balcony, looking out at the angry, storm-tossed sea. The storm rages above Dragonstone, a swirling cauldron of lightning and dark clouds, and it feels like a heartbeat—a pulse of wrath in the sky, matching the fury in your dreams. You think of your brothers, each bound to a fate you cannot change.

Jacaerys—the one they call “the Heir,” the one with a fire so fierce it rivals your mother’s, fierce enough to drown even the dreams that haunt you. You see him, armored and cloaked in the colors of your house, riding Vermax into battle. The flames lick at his heels, the heat of dragonfire tearing the sky as he fights against that which cannot be bested. And then, there is nothing. Just silence and ashes, his face turned to the cold earth, eyes empty, his crown no more than a twisted thing in the mud.

And Lucerys. Sweet Luke, with his gentle laughter and kind eyes. You feel his fear as he faces a darkness far greater than any he could’ve imagined. Vhagar’s shadow, vast and relentless, looms over him in your visions. You hear the thunderous beat of her wings, and you feel his last breath, the weight of that terror as he is torn from the sky and cast down into the churning waters below. The waves swallow him, and he is gone, just like that, leaving nothing behind but the ghost of a laugh.

Little Joffrey, too young to understand, too young to dream of anything but glory and warmth. He laughs at death as a child would, thinking himself invincible. But you see him surrounded by blood and smoke, his cries lost in the thunder of battle, his body colliding to the ground so fast it doesn't even make the sound once he hits the ground. His death is swift, brutal, the life draining from him with the innocence of his last smile.

Your mother… Rhaenyra, who burns with a fierce love for all of you, so certain that she can shield you all from the flames. But in the end, it is she who stands alone against a tide of betrayal, against the very people she once trusted. You see her, wounded and broken, betrayed by kin and throne alike. They strip her dignity, casting her aside as if she were nothing. And there, in the depths of Dragonstone, in the shadows where no light dares to reach, you see her final moments—a proud queen brought low, left to die in a darkness so deep it seems to swallow even the flame in her eyes.

You breathe, slow and trembling, as you feel each death, as real as if it were your own. Each night, the dreams claim you, binding you to a fate you cannot escape. And though you dread them, you embrace them, too, for they are all you have of them when the waking world fails to provide comfort.

“Do you think I am mad?” you whisper to the storm, letting the words vanish into the roaring winds. The heavens offer no answer, only a fresh burst of lightning, illuminating the dark waves below.

“She would say so,” you murmur, thinking of your mother’s worried glances, the way she would press her hand to your forehead, checking for fevers that were never there. “Or maybe it is the gods’ cruelty, a torment meant for those born under the shadow of dragons.”

You do not hear the door open, nor the footsteps drawing closer, but suddenly, there is a warmth behind you, a familiar presence.

“Y/N.”

His voice is soft, yet it holds that quiet strength you have always known, a steadying force amid the storms that plague your mind. Jacaerys steps closer, his hand gentle as it finds yours, fingers warm against the cold that has seeped into your skin. “Come back inside. You’ll freeze out here.”

You shake your head, your gaze still locked on the storm-tossed horizon. “I… can’t, Jace. Every time I close my eyes, I see it—all of it. How it ends. How you die. How Mother dies. How… I die, too.” The words spill from your lips, raw and unbidden, the pain of it gnawing at your chest.

His grip on your hand tightens, a gentle anchor pulling you back. “Then don’t close your eyes,” he whispers. “Stay here, with me.”

You turn, finally, meeting his gaze. His face is etched with worry, his dark eyes searching yours with a desperation that tugs at your heart. He brushes a damp strand of hair from your face, his thumb tracing your cheek in a tender gesture that speaks of years of unspoken promises.

“You aren’t alone in this,” he says softly. “Whatever it is you see, whatever you fight against, I will be right by your side.”

Jacaerys found his mother in the solar, a fire crackling in the hearth as she poured over letters and maps by candlelight. Her brows were drawn tight in concentration, shadows dancing across her face, making her look older, wearier, though her fierce beauty still shone through. When she saw him lingering in the doorway, her expression softened.

“Jace,” Rhaenyra said, gesturing for him to come closer. “What troubles you? I can see it in your eyes.”

He stepped forward, closing the door behind him to ensure they were alone. He hesitated, the words feeling heavy on his tongue, tangled with worry and fear. “It’s… it’s Y/N,” he began, his voice quieter than he’d intended.

Rhaenyra’s gaze sharpened, concern flickering over her face. “What of her?”

Jacaerys sighed, running a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling as he tried to find the right words. “She… she’s not well, Mother. The dreams… they’re getting worse. She can’t sleep without seeing death. She told me last night she sees us all… dying, over and over. She’s haunted by it.”

Rhaenyra’s face tightened, the lines of worry deepening. “I know. I’ve seen it too, Jace. The way she wanders, the darkness under her eyes… her heart is burdened with things even I can’t understand.” Her voice grew softer, almost mournful. “I wish I could reach her, soothe her fears, but she holds it all so close. It’s as if she’s bearing the weight of the realm alone.”

Jacaerys clenched his fists, his frustration evident. “She shouldn’t have to, Mother. I can’t bear to see her suffer like this. Last night, I found her standing on the balcony, drenched by the rain, staring out as if she were ready to throw herself to the waves.” He swallowed, his voice catching. “And I know… I know it won’t end if something doesn’t change.”

Rhaenyra looked at him, her expression unreadable. “What would you have me do, Jace? I’ve done all I can to help her, to comfort her.”

Jacaerys took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Let me marry her.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes widened, a sharp intake of breath escaping her. “Jacaerys… are you certain? This is not a simple choice. And that path carries its own burdens.”

“I know,” he replied, his voice firm. “But I love her, Mother. And I believe… I believe she needs someone who can be there, always, to help her bear the dreams, to remind her that she isn’t alone. I can do that. I want to do that.”

Rhaenyra studied him, her expression thoughtful, though there was a hint of pain in her gaze. “You think marriage will save her?”

“I don’t know if it will save her,” he admitted, his voice breaking with the weight of his helplessness. “But I can try to give her something solid, something real to hold onto. Every day, I see her slipping further away, lost to those visions, and it’s like watching a flame gutter in the wind. If there’s a chance—if there’s anything I can do to keep her with us, I’ll do it.”

Rhaenyra’s fingers tapped softly against the table, her own gaze turning inward as she considered his words. “When she was born,” she said quietly, “she was small and frail. The maesters doubted she would survive, but I held her close and willed her to live, every night praying that she would see another day.” Her voice trembled slightly. “And now, after all this… I fear she carries a burden I cannot lift. I see her suffering, and I know the pain it causes you. I feel it too.”

“Then let me be the one to help her,” Jacaerys pleaded. “Let me share that burden. Maybe, if she knows she isn’t alone, if she has someone who understands, it might ease the darkness.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze softened, her maternal love evident. “You truly love her, don’t you?”

“With all my heart,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I would do anything for her.”

She sighed, looking at him with both pride and sorrow. “You are more like your father than you know, Jace. Brave and loyal to a fault. If you believe this is the path, if you think it will bring her peace… then I will not stand in your way.”

Relief washed over him, and he reached out to grasp her hand. “Thank you, Mother. I will not fail her.”

Rhaenyra squeezed his hand, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “See to it that you don’t. Our family has already seen too much pain, too much loss. I cannot bear to lose either of you.”

Jacaerys nodded, a fierce determination settling in his heart. He would stand by his sister, would anchor her against the currents that sought to pull her under. And perhaps, together, they could find a way to break free from the nightmares that bound her.

As he left the room, he felt the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. But in his heart, there was a flicker of hope. He would find a way to reach her, to draw her back from the brink.

And he would never let her go.

The morning sun crept through the windows of your chamber. You lay still, eyes fixed on the ceiling, caught between sleep and waking, lingering in the half-light where dreams clung to you like shadows. Every breath felt weighted, every beat of your heart like the tolling of some distant bell. The visions had come again, the same as they always did—death and fire and faces you loved slipping away into the dark.

The door creaked open, and you felt a presence fill the room before you saw him. You knew it was Jace. There was a warmth, a steady strength in the air that belonged only to him.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft, hesitant, as though he feared disturbing you.

You turned your head, meeting his gaze. There was worry in his dark eyes, the kind that lingered even when he smiled, though his lips trembled in a faint, hopeful curve. He stepped closer, and you felt his warmth, his hand reaching out but stopping short, hovering as if uncertain.

“Are you… feeling any better?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You gave a faint, humorless smile. “Better? I think that word doesn’t mean much to me anymore, Jace.” Your voice sounded distant, hollow, as though it were echoing from somewhere deep within you. “The dreams never stop. Every night, they grow sharper, more vivid. And I… I am powerless against them.”

Jace’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Instead, he knelt beside your bed, looking up at you with an intensity that made your chest ache.

“Y/N, there’s… there’s something I need to tell you,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “I spoke with Mother.”

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow, knowing the weight of his words before he even said them. His gaze softened, and he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing over yours in a touch that was both warm and hesitant, as though he feared you might vanish.

“We are to be married,” he said quietly, watching your reaction, his eyes searching for something—hope, perhaps, or at least acceptance.

You felt a strange stillness settle over you, a quiet that almost numbed the words. You knew his intentions, the depth of his care, the fierce way he held on to hope. But you also knew the truth—the truth the dreams had shown you time and again. You let your fingers slip away from his, folding your hands in your lap as you looked down, avoiding his gaze.

“That shouldn’t happen,” you murmured, a hollow note in your voice.

He looked taken aback, hurt flashing across his face. “Why? Y/N, I… I love you. I want to help you, to share this burden, to remind you that you’re not alone.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of those dreams settle heavily upon you once more. “Jace, every time I close my eyes, I see death. Our family is crumbling, falling to ruin, and I see myself at the center of it all. How can you say you love me when I bring only suffering?”

His hands reached for yours again, stronger this time, refusing to let go. “You don’t bring suffering, Y/N. You are suffering alone, and I can’t bear it.” His voice broke slightly, and you could see the raw emotion shimmering in his eyes. “You don’t deserve to carry this alone. Let me be there with you, through whatever comes.”

You shook your head, swallowing hard as you pulled your hands free from his grasp. “No, Jace. Don’t you understand? In my dreams, I see you die, over and over. I see you fall, burning. If we marry, I will only draw you closer to that fate. I… I cannot do that to you.”

He leaned forward, capturing your gaze with a fierce determination. “Then let me die by your side, if that is what fate holds,” he said, his voice a low, steady murmur. “If the future is as dark as you say, then I’d rather face it with you than run from it alone. Let me be the one to stand beside you, whatever may come.”

Your throat tightened, words tangling in a knot of fear and longing. “Jace… you don’t know what you’re asking. You don’t know what I’ve seen. I am haunted, every moment, every breath. There is a darkness around me that you cannot see.”

“I see you,” he whispered, his voice rough and resolute. “And that is enough.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and he reached up to brush it away, his touch warm and gentle, like the promise of sunlight breaking through clouds. “Please, Y/N. Don’t push me away. Let me be here with you, let me share the burden.”

For a moment, you allowed yourself to hope, to think that perhaps his love could be enough to shield you, that perhaps this weight could be lightened. But then the visions surfaced again, sharp and unyielding, and you saw it once more—Jace, falling, burning, slipping from your grasp as fate tore him away.

“No, Jace,” you whispered, voice trembling as you pulled back. “It would be selfish of me. I can’t… I can’t be the reason you suffer, the reason you fall.”

He shook his head, frustration and love warring in his gaze. “Y/N, this isn’t just about you. This is about us. Don’t you understand? I would rather suffer by your side than live without you.”

The silence between you was thick, filled with all the unspoken fears and dreams, the shadows of what could be and what would never come to pass. Finally, you turned away, the words barely escaping your lips.

“If you marry me, you will only bring the end closer.”

He rose to his feet, standing over you, his hand still hovering as if he wanted to touch you but feared you would slip away. “Then let it come,” he murmured. “Let the end come, if that is what it means to love you. But I will not turn away, Y/N. I will not abandon you to the dark.”

A part of you wanted to believe him, to let yourself fall into his embrace and allow him to bear the weight of your pain. But you knew, deep down, that the darkness within you was a burden only you could carry.

“Then we will face it as one,” he whispered, determination firm in his gaze, as if he could will away your fears by sheer force of love. “Even if it means standing in the fire.”

And though a part of you wanted to protest, to argue, you felt yourself soften, your heart stirring with a fragile, flickering hope. Perhaps, just perhaps, you could stand beside him in the dark. Perhaps, with him, the dreams would loosen their hold, and you could find a measure of peace.

But the shadows lingered, and even as he held you, the visions danced on the edge of your mind, whispering that love was just another kind of flame, destined to burn out.

[sheyfu]

"i love you."

"what do you want? a massage? food? money? orrrr do you have a fever right now, dan heng?" you place a hand on his forehead, trying to find out if he actually does have a fever or just really sleep deprived.

it's not everyday dan heng acts like this. heck, it's even weirder as you two haven't even gotten to that kind of relationship.

"your skin is cool, and you don't seem to need anything other than, uhm.. sleep?" scratching your head, you look at him dumbfoundedly, trying to find out what the hell was happening to dan heng.

"i love you." cold dragon young says with more conviction as he stakes a step closer to you.

now that's suspicious.

"uhmmmm.. are you really sure you're okay?" worriedly, you place your hand on his forehead again, double checking to see if he was actually okay. "dan heng, please tell me if you're not feeling well-"

"i love you. i love you so much i can't even take it. every time i see you, my heart skips a beat, my breath gets caught in my throat, my hands start shaking like some fucking washing machine. you're so beautiful. too beautiful to the point that i want to throw myself out of the express because my brain goes into overdrive like 'bazinga'. i love you so much. i love you so very much to the point where i want to give everything up just to take care of you. i want to give you flowers, i want to hug you, kiss you, dance in the rain with you-"

"okay, cut! what the hell was that, dan heng? i thought we were supposed to film an introductory video for the belobog music festival and not a confession video??" a confused march 7th asks in the distance---a deep, scarlet blush coating her cheeks as she processes what the fuck just happened.

"hmm. how romantic." welt yang nods his head in approval. clearly proud of his (son) friend.

"i never knew you could be this sappy, dan heng~" himeko lets out a giggle, clearly amused with his spontaneous confession.

"sigh" a tired pom-pom expresses, head low as they walk back to the conductor’s carriage.

"did pom-pom just say 'sigh' and then actually sighed?"

"not a word, trash bomb man!"

"damn pom-pom. what did i do to you?!" caelus drops to his knees as he bangs on the floor. crocodile tears flowing from his eyes as he takes in the "betrayal" of their dear conductor.

"a- anyways.. let's do this again, shall we? by again, i mean introducing yourselves and.. a- and not.. confessing?" letting out a nervous chuckle, march sets up her camera, preparing to take another shot.

meanwhile, both of you and dan heng are left to bask in each other's embarrassment.

"soooooo" you let out a nervous chuckle. "was that, you know, uhh, part of the script? did march give you the wrong script to mess with you?" looking at his face for answers, you're left disappointed as the same, uninterested expression stays on his face.

after a few moments of awkward silence, march finally calls out your attention.

thank god, march! if it weren't for you, i would've already called [omi] to swallow me whole!

"get ready! remember, an introduction video. have some decorum! we can't let the whole of jarilo-vi catch us lacking~ anyways, on the count of three. one, two-"

"i mean it by the way." dan heng cooly says as he returns back to his original position.

"three!"

"WHAT?!"

"hey! i thought i said decorum!"

well, having no decorum is better than accidentally confessing to your crush in front of your (parents) coworkers anyway. right, dan heng?

[omi] - part of mother yn's kit; a void she can summon to eat her enemies up (kinda looks like ix and is very cutesy pie mhm)

[gorgonwrites]

neuvillette headcanons

NSFW below the cut! minors DNI. 18+

author's note: ME AND BESTIE BACK AT IT AGAIN! oh gods, this beautiful dragon man. he deserves everything and then even more. my best friend and i are probably going to do more headcanons for more genshin characters, so expect those from me soon. enjoy! <3

So shy and timid when it comes to showing affection for another person. He’s always learning, but love is a foreign feeling to him. 

We already know it, but the man is the most respectful damn gentleman you’d ever find. Always opens doors for his partner, has his hand on the small of their back to guide them, and he offers his arm when out walking. He speaks gently, and is an excellent listener.

Has a serious shrimp allergy. He doesn’t feel like he’s missing much, though.

He hates being the center of attention, and it can even cause some mild anxiety if he’s caught off guard. Sure, he’s the Iudex and Sovereign of Fontaine, but if he’s not in the courtroom don’t expect him to draw attention to himself. 

Always sneezes in threes–  no more, no less. He has a dedicated handkerchief he carries with him everywhere to cover his mouth, and is always as quiet as possible as to not draw attention to it. If he’s in court and it happens, the entire audience blesses him. He used to ignore it, but he’s grown quite fond of the gesture and takes it as a small human act of kindness. As a result, if he’s ever in earshot when someone else sneezes he’s the first one to give them a blessing. He never skips over an opportunity to sow the seeds of kindness wherever he goes.

He’s learning how to cook. Not horrible at it, but he loves the idea of food inspiring community. He dreams of gathering the people he cares about most and cooking them all a yummy meal one day.

Can sing! And has such a pretty voice. He also has an affinity for most musical instruments he picks up. He’s quite used to the melusines asking him to sing them to sleep. 

Hardly ever gets sick (he does get stress fevers quite easily), but is used to caring for himself if he needs to. The first time he lets his partner care for him when he’s ill, he almost chokes on the vulnerability that starts to creep out of his bones.

Loves his hair being brushed or played with. This is another instance where he begins to feel vulnerable– he tries to avoid the feeling the best he can, but as he grows comfortable with his partner, he allows the feeling to make a permanent home in his chest. 

He loves being held. Even as big as he is, nothing stops him from curling up into his partner's arms to let his work fade away from his whirling thoughts. He has to grow accustomed to the closeness at first, but soon he can’t end a single day without at least having a few quiet moments in his partner’s embrace.

Receiving love, Neuvillette needs physical touch, quality time, and acts of service. He gives words of affirmation and acts of service to show his love. 

nsfw below <3

Has a beautiful blue marking between his belly button and his cocks that depicts his sovereign symbol.  

Neuvi’s ears, neck, and horns are extremely sensitive. Don’t mess with them unless you’re ready to have your brains fucked out. 

Has a praise kink (giving and receiving). Any kind of encouragement goes straight to his dicks. 

On that note- he absolutely has more than one cock. He’s usually so gentle, but if he’s worked into a frenzy he might just try to shove both cocks in at once. 

Has a rut cycle. When he’s not in his rut, he’s an incredibly soft lover. When he IS in his rut, don’t expect to be able to walk anywhere for a few days once his rut is over. 

Has a mild breeding kink. Sometimes he can’t help but think about his partner big and round with his child and it quite literally fries his brain a bit when he thinks too much about it. 

Aftercare once his rut is over is GOD TIER. Hot bubble baths, hair washing, massages, snacks, cuddles. The WORKS. He takes his time soothing his partners after completely wrecking them. 

ASS MAN!!! 

Has a serious overstim kink, both giving and receiving. One orgasm is simply just never enough (or two, or three, or four…). 

Is almost always dominant in his sexual encounters. He can be rough, yes, but he’s never mean. Think pleasure dom or service top. 

Has a body worship kink. He thinks humans are beautiful creatures and always wants to explore every inch of his partners when he can. 

Loves going down on his partner– probably his favorite thing ever after discovering it. 

TANTRIC SEX

Has a tail that occasionally makes an appearance if he gets too worked up. He WILL use it to fuck his partner silly. 

BITING. He loves leaving bites anywhere he can, even if no one else can see them. 

Will only take one life partner, though he may play with other people if allowed. Once he’s formed the bond with his life partner, they won’t ever be replaced. 

Will only allow his life partner to dom him. If he’s ever topped or dommed, it's a deliberate act of giving away his power to someone he trusts completely. These are some of the rarest moments where he willingly lets his worries and vulnerability spill out, and those moments are reserved for one person only. 

in conclusion, he is quite literally the best man ever.

[misguidedasgardian]

The Hour of the Wolf (8)

VIII. Your Obstacle

MASTERLIST

Summary: You want to get out of Cregan’s way

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats, arranged marriage, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon, pregnancy, sickness, pandemic, unrealistic timing and portraits of a pandemic, might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3 k 

Notes: Now Reader and Cregan will be even... you might not like me after this 😬 anyways! Merry Christmas!

“Arra”, you woke up as he was again lost in his mind, “Arra my love”, he was dying, his mind was delusional in fever and yet, you felt your chest tightening, “Rickon”, he only whispered the name of his first wife, his childhood friend, and the one of his son

“I will care for him”

He whispered 

He was burning up again, after getting better the day before when you got there to tend to him. You stood up, and searched for the Grand maester 

“I can’t lower the temperature of his grace”, you cried to the man all the way in the tower of the hand

“Your grace, you should be in your rooms”, he said urgently, “if you catch the disease, we are all lost”

“I need you to help me with Cregan, he caught it”, you cried.

The man and Arryk ran to your side, and towards Cregan’s rooms, he had not eaten not drink anything since the day before, no matter how much you tried to give him sips of water.

The Maester checked on him dutifully

“His temperature is great, your grace”, he said, in his eyes… you didn’t even want to think about it, you didn’t even want to think about what it meant

“No, do something! anything!”

“Let’s prepare him a bath”. The Red Keep had been deserted, but by a handful of servants that were obligated to stay in the palace ground and have no contact with the exterior, those helped you and Arryk make a bath for Cregan.

The maester placed his boney hand on the water, the other, on Cregan’s forehead

“It’s ready your grace”, both the water and Cregan’s high temperature being the same, Arryk, the maester and you grabbed Cregan and placed him on the water slowly

He whined and grunted

He was chanting another woman’s name in his fever induced dreams, and his son’s name. She had died in childbirth, or rather after, but his son? you had kept him from him, from seeing him and taking care of him like any father should

You didn’t know what to do about that, could it be that he dreamed of the life he once had rather than the one he had now? He hadn't muttered your name not once, and you tried to focus on rather doing whatever you could to help him instead of this… silly things

But you were his wife now, and you were expecting his child, even though you haven't confirmed it with the maesters, and… he didn’t know yet, but still…. would he hold you in his thoughts as he did his former wife?

After all, the child you were carrying was not going to be his, he belonged to the Targaryen dynasty, and the Iron Throne, it was not a normal child, his heir… was in Winterfell…

You hold him as he rested in the tub, the theory was that at matching temperatures, as the water started to get more tempered, so will he, his body temperature lowering

With a cloth you kept his forehead and head also wet, with the current temperature of the water.

As minutes trespassed, his face seemed more relaxed, his temperature was indeed lowering

Would he regain consciousness? would he ever look into your eyes and speak to you again?

You had to believe he was going to

As he grunted into consciousness, the maester made him drink some tea with other herbs, and he did, that itself was an improvement.

Once the water was cold, you removed him from the water, dried him, and even he himself stood, with your help, and you laid him back down on fresh sheets.

His fever was no longer there, almost, it had worked, but the Maester had given him milk of the poppy so now he had fallen on a thick sleep.

“There it is your grace, soon he will wake, and when he does, he most likely, left this disease behind him”, muttered the Maester, “if the fever doesn’t return, if it does, please, call for me”

“Thank you”, both men left you alone with your husband

You sat by his bedside, taken his hand on yours, scared his fever will raise again

The night fell over the Seven Kingdoms, and you were so tired, that you fell asleep, your head laying on the rough sheets by his side, his hand on yours

Sleep took you without you fighting it, letting you slumber in dark dreams as dark tides swallowed you whole.

You dreamt about being in one of the royal vessels, it wasn’t nighttime, but it looked like it, the clouds so gray, so dark, they could swallow you whole. The boat was at the mercy of the waves, the sea was wild and dangerous, you felt like you lose your footing on deck

There was no one in sight but you, but you felt ghosts of people all around you, moving the sails, working the ship

You knew you had a destination and that you had come from King’s Landing, but the uncertainty as you crossed the storm was making you tremble. You were alone, nobody you knew was in sight, and in your dream, you knew… Cregan was not there with you.

Behind the clouds, you could hear a dragon, it wasn’t Vhaelar, it was someone else…

You woke up because you felt a squeeze, a gentle squeeze, you opened your eyes, alarmed, and when you managed to focus them, some gray eyes were staring back at you

“What are you doing here my love?”, he asked, and you couldn’t help but cry out of happiness and relief, once you placed your hand on his head, making sure he was clear of the fever

Two months, you had been battleting the disease that stretched out far and wide, but as it came, it went away… for those who survived…

Within the castle, it had taken many lords and ladies, but the most important within your circle was… Alicent and Lord Tyland Lannister.

The former, that sick woman, literally and figuratively, has snuck out of her rooms, sick with the winter fever, and tried to barge into the nursery, Jahaera and Aegon’s rooms. According to Arryk, she had screamed the name of your baby brother with “murderous intent”, she wanted to see him, to make him catch the disease as she screamed, scaring the children, which only worsened the situation because then the mad Queen was conscious that Jahaera was there… her only living descendant

She lost it then, but she was a sickly and weak woman, and once the soldiers gathered she was easily taken back and locked in her rooms.

She refused her green dresses, she wanted to jump off a window, in the end she died with sorrow on her face and your mother’s name on her tongue.

You felt relief, and you couldn’t hide it

But the loss of Tyland did strike you and your family. He had been there since you could remember, even if sometimes he was an idiot, he was there, and had been faithfully for you since Aegon died, probably poisoned with his help

Anyways, you were barely getting the hand of your small council.

But the Lannisters did not want to let the post go, so they were going to send Tyland’s cousin. You were looking forward to him, now with Tyland gone, and Jason dead in the war, the line had to change within the Lannister House, but it remained strong, as they assured you. 

You wanted to be so relieved that Cregan survived, but every time you saw his face, you were reminded of his face twisted in fever and agony, chanting another woman’s name like a prayer. 

You felt so terribly guilty for keeping him here.

So you… as soon as he was better… you demanded of him to go to Winterfell

“No, I’m not leaving you”, Cregan said, passing around the room

“You need to go home, Cregan, to aid in this crisis, the maester suggests that once you caught it and survive, you won’t caught it again”, you said quickly

“The disease is still raging, you are still…”

“I won’t catch it”, you said firmly, “I’m from the blood of old Valyria, blood forged with magic”, you said, he chuckled, mocking you, but you were not joking

“My love..”, he said condescendingly, but you didn’t budge.

“Tyland’s cousin is coming, the realms are at peace, it’s time”, you sentenced 

He didn’t fight you anymore, and it broke your heart even more to see the excitement in his gorgeous eyes. He might be trying to deny you, but he couldn’t hide it, he was excited to leave, and you couldn’t blame him

The mere thought of being without him for so long made your stomach twist, you hand instinctively went to your lower belly, Cregan noticed

“Are you well?”, he asked, you nodded

“I’m fine”, you said

“You look different”, he said with caution

“It was a hellish week”, you answered back

“I see”

You had yet to confirm your doubts with the maester, but you were certain

You were with child

And you were about to send the father back home for spite, well, not quite, but, you were pushing him away, to leave your side. Without him knowing.

So as Cregan was distracted with preparations for his departure, you went to visit the Grand Maester.

“Wonderful news, you are indeed with child your grace”, the old man said, he had been your mothers Maester, he probably aid in your own birth, his eyes filled with tears of happiness

“I’m so glad”, you muttered, “but we must keep this between us, it’s to soon���, he nodded eagerly

“Are you going to tell Lord Cregan?”, he asked

“I’m not sure”, you admitted 

“But the hand is leaving your grace”, he said softly. 

“I know”, you said shortly

Within a week, Cregan was ready to leave, and even though you wanted to cry and hold onto him, you stood in front of him in the Royal Harbor 

“If you take a lover, please be careful, and don’t let him plant his seed in your belly”, he whispered, you only looked at him

“The same goes to you husband, don’t plant your seed on another woman’s field”, you answered meaningly

“Wouldn’t dream of it”, he whispered

“Good”, did he really think you could take anyone who isn’t him? Now you wanted to cry even more 

You were angry, you didn’t even know why… Your heart was breaking at his departure, and you did not want to feel like this, you wanted to get it over with

Your marriage still did not feel concrete enough, he, Cregan, has as well been forced to marry you, nothing else, and even though he and you too have taken joy in bedding each other, there was nothing else there.

Yes he cared for you, but like a sworn sword would care for his princess, nothing else

He frowned when he saw how you evaded him with your eyes

“You are alright? I’ll be back before you even notice”

“You will lose the tide, my love”, you said soulesly, “you should go”, that would have offended him, if he hadn't seen you all angry and offended like you were. He only smirked.

You were angry because he was leaving 

And that made him glad somehow

You cared 

“I’ll be back before you know it, the small council already promised to keep you entertained”, he said softly

“Yes husband”, you muttered, not feeling it, you were like a little child, being comforted by a parent. 

“And I wouldn’t oppose a visit from you, on dragonback”, he teased, you barely smiled

“Very well”, you muttered

“I will arrive in Winterfell in three weeks”, he said with hope in his voice, you barely nodded, again, evading his gaze.

You weren’t angry at him, you were angry at the situation, but it still hurt, very much so, his departure, the thought of not having him by your side, in your bed, not waking him to his hand on your body and his lips on yours

But he had called another woman’s name on his sleep

He leaned in, grabbing your face on his hands softly, and he kissed you hungrily, with longing, you did as well

“Please send word, whatever happens, anything”, he demanded against your lips, you only nodded

“Yes my lord husband”, he gave you a last smile and nodded.

He was taking a grand part of his army with him, those who wanted to return home, but many stayed, in King's Landing or in the Riverlands. 

As you watched him go, you turned to the maester

“Your grace! you didn’t tell him”, he chided softly 

“What kind of wife would I be if I kept him from his son this long? the fever almost took him, what if he never saw his child again?”, you whined, but as you watched the boat sail away, you wiped those thoughts from your mind. You turned to the maester with a soft smile

“We shall tell the small council, that I am with child, now that my husband has just left, I will not give ground for doubts on the paternity of my unborn child as were my brothers”

“Never, my sweet gracious lady”, he said, “we shall tell them this very meeting later today”, you only smiled softly 

You summoned them as soon as the ship’s sails were no longer visible in the horizon

“Lord Cregan just left, we expect him to return in less than a year”, you said firmly, you didn't know where the strength came, you wanted to be curled up in your room, crying, hugging your pillow, your chest was constricted against the fabric of your dress.

You missed him already

You can’t believe he is gone, that you were not going to see him for the next year, or so… that you were expecting his child, and you were going to give birth to him or her… alone, completely alone, without your husband

But it was the right thing to do, you knew it, you couldn't be this selfish, he had a family of his own, a whole country that he needed to see. If you would have told him, he wouldn’t have left, another year far from home, another year away from his son.

You couldn’t have that

“The year will pass swiftly your grace”, muttered Lord Redwyne, “not to worry”

“There is something else”, you said, sharing glances with the Maester, “I’m with child”, there was a few awkwards silent seconds, and then the room exploded with cheers and words of encouragement

“That is great news, your grace!”

“A new prince or princess! A new era!”

“The country is flourishing again”

You only smiled

“Congratulations your grace”, said Lord Celtigar by your side, “But Lord Cregan just left”, he muttered

“Yes, in reality he does not know, and we must kept it that way”, you said firmly and the room was quiet, “he needed to go back home, to resolve some matters of the greatest importance, and he wouldn’t have gone if he knew the news”

“Very well, as your grace commands”, said Lord Redwyne

“This is for the greater good”, you assured them, and the men at the table changed their concerned looks.

You didn’t even wanted to go back to your rooms, you wanted to keep yourself distracted, the castle was still in high alert because of the disease, but still, you finally were able to visit your brother Aegon and Jahaera, who, against all odds, had finally bonded in a somewhat sweet friendship.

They already know how to read, so all this time in confinement had allow them to read and read, history books, children’s books, books about animals, their minds were distracted and absorbed in other things, they had finally managed to reach some other emotions rather than sorrow, and you were so grateful

Their nannies were excellent and had aid them in that as well, keeping them distracted

But the night came anyways, no matter how distracted you kept yourself, and even though if for the past two months you had been sleeping alone, now that you knew Cregan was not even in the castle, that each passing second he was sailing further and further away… you couldn’t sleep

And when you did, terrible nightmares tortured your mind

You were again on that ship, Cregan was with you and… the waves and the storm dragged you to the bottom of the ocean, the waves tearing you apart. 

You were alone again, and it was of your own making.

Cregan could already feel the cold breeze hit his face, he was excited, he couldn’t wait any longer to get home… 

He looked over his shoulder, back towards King’s Landing, where you had remained, he had second thoughts about leaving you, he did, but he knew you were going to be alright, you had to be. You were stronger than you seemed

You were surely going to visit him in Winterfell, right?

You didn’t want to admit it, but you cared for him, you did, you had challenged a dangerous disease just to tent him, made sure he survived. Being with you strengthening your relationship was vital, but… either way, you were not yet with child, once you were, he was never going to part from your side, so it had to be now, that is what he thought

He didn’t need to stay one year away, he was going back home with news for his sister and to feel the current climate, that wat, he might even be able to return sooner to you, perhaps you even felt stronger to fly back to Winterfell to see him, that would certainly improve everything, he thought

When he came back, he was going to tell you to make a tour throughout the Kingdoms, they needed to see you, see their Queen.

He breathed in the fresh sea breeze, and smiled.

He was coming home to see his son, and yet, he couldn’t wait for you to see Winterfell, he couldn’t wait for you to meet his son… He couldn’t wait… for your future together.

He had survived, thanks to you, he had survived the deathly fever, for you, for his son, for the children he knew you were going to give him, for the future of the Kingdoms.

He just needed to… learn to combine his worlds together.

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[maidragoste]

Babysitter

Larys Strong x Velaryon!Reader

Summary: Larys was thinking about spending a quiet afternoon alone with his wife but Jacaerys ruins his plans.

Modern AU where Sea Dragon was never with Harwin and she is married to Larys. Nobody asked for this but I'm a bitch for Larys and Sea Dragon so I wrote it. The truth is that I really enjoyed writing about them being domestic, please if you liked it, don't hesitate to comment, like or REBLOG 🥰💖💖

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions 🤭🥰

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

When Larys entered, the first thing that caught his attention was that the house was silent instead of listening to the music that you usually played when you were at home. The second thing was that when Nightwing, your dog, went to meet him excitedly at the entrance and started barking, you asked him to stop, which was strange because Nightwing always did that and a long time ago the both accepted that she wouldn't stop doing it.

And the third thing was that a minute after Nightwing barked a baby cry was heard. As soon as he heard it Larys thought about opening the door again and leaving, maybe if he took Nightwing's leash and took her for a walk you wouldn't be upset with him for leaving but he doubted it. So he finished taking off his coat and tried to calm the dog by petting it as he headed to the kitchen.

"Hi," you greeted him and your husband turned to see you smiling at him from the living room. Despite the small tantrum a few seconds ago you looked happy to have their nephew Jacaerys in your arms "Harwin and Rhaenyra needed some time alone so I offered to take care of him"

He shouldn't be surprised. Lately every time the both went shopping you always "coincidentally" passed by the baby clothes section and stopped there for a while while you cooed just how small and cute the clothes are. Sometimes you even end up buying some compulsively. Not only that, every time you received a new photo of Jacaerys or your cousins' children you let out an "aww" and excitedly showed him the photos. When you two went to the park to take Nightwing out and you found a baby you started making faces at them until you managed to make them laugh. And now you were offering to take care of Jacaerys. He had a suspicion that you have baby fever.

"For how long?" he asked, hoping it would be an hour or two at most, he didn't want to spend the rest of the day with his nephew. When Larys got off work he had planned to come home and relax with you. He hoped they could take a bath together and then order something for dinner at that restaurant you like while watching some reality show.

"Just for a few hours"

Larys took the kettle out of the fire before it started making a lot of noise and Jacaerys would get scared.

"How many?" He asked, knowing that he wouldn't like the answer because you weren't being specific for some reason.

"They'll probably come looking for him at midnight" you responded and pouted as you heard the exasperated sigh your husband let out "Don't be like that, Jace is happy to see you" You went to sit on the couch when you saw that Larys entered the living room with two cups of tea.

"How do you know? He can't talk" Larys scoffed as he put the cups on the table. Nightwing, seeing that he sat down, instantly lay down on the floor.

"He crawled all over the house looking for you" you responded with a smile and you saw that the baby was starting to get restless so you left him on the carpet with his toys.

"You're talking shit"

"Larys! Language!" you scolded him, lamely, slapping him on the shoulder.

"He can't talk," your husband responded, rolling his eyes.

Larys really thought that you were lying and that you told him that hoping that it would warm him and maybe make him want to have a child. But it was obvious that you weren't lying because Jacaerys barely spent a minute with the toy before crawling to his side and starting to tug at his pants. Larys had never held a cup of tea so tightly, he was afraid that at some point it would fall and burn the child. The last thing he wanted was to end up going to the hospital. Besides, his brother would kill him for hurting Jacaerys.

Larys gave you an annoyed look as she placed the cup on the table.

"I told you he wanted to spend time with you" you scoffed but you took pity on him because you sat on the rug and got the baby's attention by making noise with one of his toys.

Jacaerys loosened his grip on the pants but he still seemed hesitant to let go.

“It's okay, Jace, your uncle isn't going anywhere. You can play with him later” you reassured him and the baby finally let go of his pants to go with you. You welcomed him with open arms and kissed his forehead.

“Don't lie to him, I'm not going to play with him,” your husband said as he took the cup back.

“Larys, stop being an ogre and enjoy your nephew's company.” There was no harshness in your voice but he knew you were serious.

He rolled his eyes and started drinking his tea. You managed to distract the baby by playing with him so Larys could enjoy his tea in peace. Your husband admired you as you responded to Jace's babbling as if it were a real conversation. Jace gave you one of his toys, which he had just slobbered on, but you didn't seem disgusted but instead concentrated on cooing and congratulating him for being so good and wanting to share his toy. You would be a good mother. He could imagine you doing the same with their children.

“Your tea is going to get cold,” Larys reminded you when he saw that your cup was still intact.

“It's okay, I can make another one later.”

But Larys knew you wouldn't. “Give it to me and have your tea,” he asked. You handed him, Jace, carefully and watched with a smile as your husband took the baby without hesitation, unlike the first few times he seemed hesitant before Harwin or Rhaenyra handed Jace to him. “The tea,” Larys repeated with a small smile when he noticed the way you looked at him. Maybe it wasn't so bad that Jace came. He instantly retracted that thought when his nephew started pulling his hair. “Harwin is raising a savage.”

“Don't be exaggerated,” you said, feeling warm from the view in front of you more than from the tea.

Later when Nightwing starts crying and staring at the door Larys, who ends up agreeing to “play” with Jacaerys just because she wants to spend time with you, gets up to go take the dog out. He watches with amusement as Jace begins to crawl with the intention of following his uncle but he is too slow so when he reaches the hallway where the door is he just sees Larys close the door and bursts into tears. You will instantly take him in your arms to comfort him. The door opens again and Larys enters again with Nightwing but Jace continues crying.

“Let's wrap him up so he can come with us,” your husband said as he approached you. “You're too annoying.” There's no malice in Larys' voice or when he pokes the baby's cheek with his finger. “Remind me to ask my father if Harwin was as crybaby as Jace when he was a baby,” he tells you as he takes his nephew away from you so that you can look in the bag that Rhaenyra had left you for some warm clothes.

“I will,” you say and give him a small kiss on the cheek before going to get the clothes.

You and Larys manage to quickly dress Jace under the pressure of Nightwing's crying. Any trace of distress on Jace's part disappears the moment you and Larys settle him into The Kangaroo Carry being carried by Larys. Your husband is struck by the fact that out of nowhere there is a baby carrier in the house, but he doesn't say anything, thinking that surely Rhaenyra left it or you bought it for future visits from Jace or your cousin's children.

Once Nightwing relieves her, instead of returning home, the both decide to go to the park that is close to home for a while. This time you are not the one who coos or makes faces at strangers' babies but the other way around. Larys would be lying if he said he didn't like hearing how people said you four looked like a sweet family. If your purpose with Jacaerys's visit was to get him into the idea of having their own child then you had achieved it.

Hours later, Jacaerys has just left with his parents and Larys is sitting exhausted on the couch hugging you around the waist. The television is on but he is not paying attention to the program rather he is looking at you. Your eyes are lighting up and you have a smile on your face as you look through your phone at all the photos you took today of the two of you with Jace.

“You know, if you want a baby you just had to tell me,” he said, catching your attention.

For a moment you look at him surprised but then you laugh and lean in to kiss him. Larys feels how all the tiredness in his body magically disappears while he savors the sweetness of your lips. But Larys definitely feels more awake when you whisper on his lips, “I'm already pregnant, you fool.”

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[delusionalwritingsofagay]

C.AI Master List

༊*·˚ -  Mpreg -‘๑’- Age regression ׂׂૢ - Dark

Aegon II Targaryen

Baby Fever - I Omega Aegon and younger brother Alpha, Aegon wants a baby I ABO I Targcest I ༊*·˚ Keep You safe - I Omega Aegon and younger brother Alpha , I ABO I Targcest I ༊*·˚ Sweet Baby - I omega Aegon and younger brother Alpha, Aegon is in labour I ABO I Targcest I ༊*·˚ My Love - I Alpha Aegon and Omega younger brother I ABO I Targcest I Where is Jaehaerys ? - I King Aegon married to younger brother I Targcest A Moment of Grief - I king Aegon and his brother-husband grieving their baby boy Jaehaerys I Targcest I Come into my arms - I Prince Aegon and his younger brother who his occasion lover I Targcest I Friends - Young prince Aegon and his nephew I Targcest I Absolutely Smitten - I Young Aegon is obsessed with his uncle I Targcest I Teenage Dream - I Young Aegon bumps into a male whore who is around his age and is enamoured by him I Talk to Me - I Young Aegon takes comfort in his servant I Silk Street - I Prince Aegon seducing his nephew for fun ITargcest I Do you truly love me - I King Aegon with his paramour I No Dance of the dragon I Co-Parents - I Son of billionaire Aegon is co parenting his son Maelor with {{user}} after an accidental pregnancy I Modern Au I༊*·˚

Aemond Targaryen

To Be Friends - I Young Aemond and common born user I Leana's Funeral - I Young Aemond his twin brother and Betrothed at Leana's funeral I Targcest I Nightmare's - Young Aemond goes to his uncle after the brothel incident I Nightmare's - Young Aemond goes to his twin brother after the brothel incident I

Little foot prints - I Aemond and his brother husband teaching their son how to walk I Targcest I ༊*·˚ Forever & Always - I Aemond in love with his peculiar younger brother I Targcest I Mess is Mine - I Aemond calms his dreamer younger brother after an episode I Targcest I Watch you sleep - I Aemond and his brother husband having a moment of intimacy I Targcest I Choices - Aemond Accidental gets his twin brother with child I Targcest I ༊*·˚ Kissaphobic - I Aemond and his twin brother have problems with being intimate due to their past traumas with sex I Targcest I Bite Me - Prince Regent training with his brother-husband and accidently injuries him I Targcest I My Boy - Aemond is in love with his brother I Targcest I Can't we be kids again - Aemond has change since becoming prince Regent and his married with his brother husband has become strained I Targcest I Me and My husband - I Prince regent Aemond asking his brother husbands thoughts in a council meeting I Targcest I Picking a Hand - I Aemond chooses his brother husband as his hand I Targcest I Family Line - Aemond is caught by his brother husband trying to kill their bother Aegon I Targcest I Pour your love on Me - Aemond struggles with saying the words I love you I Targcest I Call out My name - I Aemond and his need for control I Targcest I No Dance of the dragon I Intertwined - I Aemond realizes that sex isn't just about pleasure of the act but the aftercare too I Targcest I No Dance of the dragon I I Get To love you - I Aemond and his pregnant brother-husband I Targcest I No Dance of the dragon I ༊*·˚ Obsessed with you - Aemond kills a lord who disrespected his brother husband I Targcest I No Dance of the dragon I Jealousy - Aemond is celebrating his name day and his brother teases him I Targcest I No Dance of the dragon I Don't Blame Me - I Aemond plots to get rid of Aegon so he can be with {{user}} their brother who was made to marry Aegon I Targcest I Beautiful boy - I Prince Regent Aemond is visited by his sickly brother after Rooks rest I Targcest I war of hearts - I Aemond asks his brother to fly his dragon into battle with him I Targcest I Pressure - I Omega Aemond getting pressure by his mother for heirs I ABO I Targcest I ༊*·˚ Trust - I Alpha Aemond meets his new-born son with his omega brother husband I ABO I Targcest I ༊*·˚

Daemon Targaryen

Jacaerys Velaryon

[abysswalkersknight]

Just did a practise picture and drabble with my last idea with malleus and little Silver, since I wanted to try my hand at some fluff and comedy.

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

Humans are so fragile, Malleus thinks brushing a knuckle over the soft cheek of Lilia’s slumbering child. It had only been a mere eight years since his guardian had introduced Malleus to the sweet little bundle nestled in his arms, and to the old general’s delight, the prince was enraptured at first sight, feeling those tiny fingers, delicate as they were, gripping his own one with such considerable strength. Malleus had decided then and there that with Lilia’s permission he would also take part in caring for this adorable creature. Which brings them to now as little Silver slept, curling into the thickest blanket Malleus could find. It was the middle of winter and Lilia had to go run some errands so Malleus was left to babysit the little human. He frowned as he felt Silver’s cheek and forehead, the child was far too cold for his liking! So with the elegant grace of someone who had to endure torturous hours of royal etiquette lessons, Malleus swept up the child onto his lap in a firm hold, thankfully Silver didn’t stir and instead snuggled closer to the prince’s chest.

This is still too cold for human children! It would be terrible if Silver caught a cold, Malleus had read all about the dangers of human illnesses, first it could be just a slight fever and runny nose then all of a sudden it could turn into something called pneumonia! The books said that it's fatal to humans and if the adults die from it, of course their offspring will have higher chances! 

Subconsciously Malleus’s arms tightened around the child oblivious to his spiralling thoughts. No, he thinks, no way was this child falling sick on his watch, but instead of lighting the fireplace like any rational person the prince picked up Silver once more in his arms and disappeared in a display of little green lights.

‘Malleus Draconia!’ Lilia stormed into the prince’s chambers with a flurry of rage and exasperation. When the castle guards and servants caught sight of the angry general they knew better than to block his path, some of the older guards winced in sympathy for the young prince. They recalled the past incidents when the princess and her husband recently had their egg, and knew very well what was about to happen.

Right now Lilia is hushed by the giant dragon who points down to the little human child nestled into his scaly arm, Silver stirs slightly then settles and nuzzles closer to the warmth, the dragon rumbles and snuffles the child until satisfied that he is settled.

The older fae glared up at the dragon with all the confidence of someone who had seen centuries worth of horrors and the irritation of a parent, ‘Malleus, why did you nab my child. Again?’ the dragon hissed angrily, arching his neck back like a broody chicken. This was not the first time Lilia has had to deal with something like this, sometimes he almost regrets presenting his son to Malleus as the prince has immediately taken to stealing the child whenever it was slightly colder than usual, and it takes Lilia forever to get him back so he could have dinner, not to mention he almost never leaves unscathed. 

He’s just like his father. He begrudgingly recalls. Back when his friends were alive, Lilia would sometimes be sent to retrieve something from the egg’s nursery and it was an absolute nightmare whenever it was Leven’s “turn” to have the egg. It would be just like now, the big oaf would be in his dragon form, curling around the egg and snapping at anyone who dared go near, really Lilia and Mallenoa would always compare him to a brooding chicken, the princess; with affection, Lilia; seven’s damn it, just let him do his job!

Thankfully this just means he knew just the thing for a situation like this. 

‘Malleus give me back Silver, oooorrrr I get the broom’ he says moving closer. The prince hissed again and puffed smoke from his nostrils, his three pointed tail suddenly sweeps up and batted at Lilia until he backed away ‘alright that was just plain rude’ with a flick of his fingers a broom flew into his hand, the dragon snaps at him and he smacks the narrow snout with the end of it ‘I did say I’d get the broom out didn’t I?’ the dragon hisses once again.

Lilia sighed, so this was going to be one of those days wasn’t it.

After a few hours of scrappy cat fights, and a certain dragon getting a broom shoved up his nose, a roughed up Lilia had his son burying his sleepy face in his face and a dejected prince following behind, occasionally blowing his nose.

[sugarpopss]

Lamb, Pig, It's All The Same

Alright here's more Aegon with gout fic. idk. I don't have a tag list but I am gonna tag @bucknastysbabe bc I bounced some of this off of her before it sat in my drafts for two months, and @who-told-you-this-was-butter and @khaleesihel bc they're my howl drool cream over Aegon buddies

Fem reader, Aegon being a pathetic whore but like in a fun sexy way

The gout preferred to strike at night. It would violently jerk Aegon from his slumber and have him crying out with the sudden pain, panicked thrashing hindered by both his afflicted joint and his swollen stomach-for your husband did so love to gorge himself into drowsiness, despite repeated warnings from the maesters and scoldings from his own mother. 

It was Aegons gasping and crying that usually awoke you. The overwhelming panic you’d felt at the beginning of your marriage, when you’d known nothing of the crown princes illness-possibly by design, but you’d not be caught making the accusation-had been overcome in the months since the first, terrifying night. By the time the summertime warmth of your wedding had frozen into winter, you were wrapping your arms around Aegon before you were even fully awake. He always leaned into you with all of his weight, seeking the comfort you provided him like a lamb searching for its mothers shadow. 

“Hush, dearheart, it’ll fade. You know it will fade soon enough.” 

It was all nonsense, really, that you murmured into his hair, but your soothing words and safe embrace gave Aegon something to anchor himself to while the pain ran its violent course. Despite the constant, grating irritation that usually marked Aegons presence in a room-and that ground your nerves to dust time and time again-his cries made your heart ache. Perhaps you were simply weak for a beautiful man in distress, because you always found yourself coming to his side when he glutted himself like a prized hog then whined so pathetically for you to soothe his belly. 

When Aegon sniffled against your shoulder you just couldn’t help but to coo and stroke his hair. Nevermind the tears and mucus he was no doubt spreading all over the fine Myrish lace of your nightgown, the idiot usurper-your idiot usurper-was in pain and frightened. And although it surely made you a damnably terrible person, you found Aegon to be at his sweetest when he was reeling and needy. Not completely lost in the throes of the pain, of course, but when the attack began to ease and he nuzzled against your skin, seeking warmth and comfort and kind words and rewarding you with his gorgeous lilac eyes, red rimmed and watery, turned up to you with all of the mindless trust of a newborn lamb. 

The knowledge that Aegon only sought your comfort because you happened to be closer at hand than a jug of wine did little to sour how much you enjoyed peppering kisses over his fever warm cheeks-cheeks which only seemed to grow fuller and rounder time trod on, but gout was not called the ‘fat mans disease’ for nothing. The fool was nearly incapable of self soothing without something in his mouth, a fact that had perhaps led your mind towards less appropriate thoughts of a hypothetical night upon which, after the pain had faded to a more manageable ache, you’d shrug off your nightgown and offer him your breast. You were confident that Aegon would take it eagerly, after all. Doesn’t every pathetic lamb need something to nurse? 

Sometimes you gave up on holding him altogether and applied a cold herbal compress to his inflamed knee. As you sat on the edge of your own marital bed and pressed the damp, sticky rags to Aegons knee and watched him writhe and cry, your thoughts always grew strange. The affection-fine, perhaps a little bit of power as well-you felt while holding and comforting your husband went quiet. In its place arose thoughts of the Queen Consort tending to her own ailing Targaryen. You didn’t enjoy these thoughts, but they came nonetheless. Perhaps these men with dragons blood in their veins were somehow prone to affliction, or perhaps it was as simple as the fact that a loyal wife and a nursemaid were very much interchangeable. 

Even if you were slightly uncertain whether you’d care for Aegons pain at all if he wasn’t so beautiful and needy and helpless when it struck. 

Perhaps this man, this family, this city-they all brought out the worst in you. Or perhaps you were just a little too fond of your husbands flushed face and hitching cries. 

[starcrossedreaders]

Hi!! I really love ur leon fics and i was wondering if you could write a leon x poetic reader fic? Like Reader always writes in her book and leon always wonders what shes always scribbling about so then this one day he caught her writing in her book again and kinda snatches it off her bc hes so curious then finds out that shes been writing poems about leon? AAAHG Please I love poems and Leon so much

Thank you so much💕💕

Authors Note: This was a dream to write, thank you so much for requesting it. When writing this I pictured re2 and re4 Leon and a reader that you watch grow together over time. I would also like to apologize if the formatting is wonky, I didn't write this directly on Tumblr sooo...I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Brief mentions of sex, a lil angst

 September 13,

i’ve never seen eyes as blue as his. 

i would never need a blue sky

If i was with him.

“Leon…” Shaking this beautiful stranger's hand for a heartbeat too long was never your intention but here you are.

Clearing his throat you finally let go letting out a nervous laugh as you step back. His voice was smooth as the words he spoke rolled off his tongue. “I’m really sorry about spilling your coffee. Let me make it up to you.”

You could barely hear him above the heartbeat in your ears as he spoke up again. “How about another coffee? You free Sunday?” 

It took you a second to process his words “Uh- yea, yea Sunday works.” Stuttering was not how you wanted to respond.

A faint blush crossed over your face as he smiled back. “Great, Let’s meet down at the cafe at 9?” His statement was more of a question: a confirmation.

“Okay, 9 works great.”

“Great.”

“Great.” Leon chuckled and walked off as you awkwardly waved him goodbye.

Turning back you smacked your head a few times calling yourself stupid. “Great? Who the fuck says that.” Letting out a sigh you walked back to your small apartment.

                                                                       September 17,

The bitter liquid seemed…

Sweet; with him across from me.

He would soon turn into my coffee.

Sweet, Addictive, caffeine.

He’s like caffeine.

Pure gold.

“So what are you studying?” Leon stirred the second scoop of sugar into his coffee before taking a sip and giving a slight nod in approval. 

You made sure to take note of that before answering. “English Lit, with a business minor. What about you?” You ask as you take a sip of your own bittersweet drink.

Placing his mug down he shakes his head a little. “College is not my strong suit, I’m actually in the police academy.” He says with a prideful smile.

                                                                   September 20,

His smile.

His smile makes me want to fall.

Fall like the shooting stars that scatter.

Down

Down 

Down.

Soon to make someones wish come true.

The ding of your phone brought you out of your reality of dragons and war. Sighing you placed your bookmark between the pages to see who texted you. Looking at the notification made you smile.

Leon: I had a great time on Sunday, we should do that again sometime. :)

You: We should, I owe you a coffee now since you paid. 

Leon: I can’t let a beautiful girl like you pay for an insanely overpriced latte.

You: Quite the gentlemen you are.

Leon: It’s what I do best.

                                                              October 12,

Whoever said falling in love in October was a fever dream was right.

I was falling

And fast.

With my eyes closed tight 

Heart firmly grasped I awaited.

Awaited that fall.

Awaited for the loud shatter

Broken bones and dried tears.

Stars scattered the night sky as soft music played through Leon’s Jeep speakers. His arm wrapped around your sent shock waves through your body as he rubbed his thumb back and forth. Your head laid over his beating heart as you guys lay in the back of his car, star gazing.

“That there,” He pointed to a cluster of stars. “Is the Cassiopeia constellations.” Leon’s heartbeat was steady as his voice reverberated through his chest.

“It’s also called the ‘W’ constellation because well, it’s shaped like a ‘W’.” He let out a small laugh before he continued. “She was friends with Aphrodite and was the goddess of Fantasy and of seas. She was a queen, a very confident one at that. She would go on and on about how her daughter Andromeda was more beautiful than the sea nymphs known as Nereids.” 

His soft voice eased into your body putting you at ease as he went on. “Poseidon, the Greek God of the sea wasn’t very happy.”

“Aren’t sea nymphs bad though?” Your question caught Leon off guard. He wasn’t expecting you to be listening to his rambles.

“They are vengeful creatures. After Cassiopeia claimed her daughter's beauty was unmatched they felt insulted; hurt. So in return, they became vain creatures.” You hummed in understanding.

“Eventually, they went ravaging her kingdom, soon sending her to the stars.” 

                                                              October 18,

It was once believed that Zeus,

King of Gods

Had split us, Humans, in half.

Cursing us with a life full of journeys to find our other half.

And I think I just found mine.

Leon’s hand smoothed over your leg as you sat in the back of his Jeep once again. Sitting in the trunk Leon sat at the edge swinging a leg outside of the car while you sat across from him, stretched out. The faint sounds of crickets talking filled the silence.

“Look,” Pointing at the sky you let out a big smile. “A shooting star.” Leon followed where you pointed in awe.

Looking back at him you felt all giddy. “What did you wish for?” Leon slowly brought his attention back to you.

His blue eyes shimmered in the midnight sky, the stars reflections looking right back at you. Letting a boyish smile through a faint blush painted his cheeks.

“You.”

                                                              October 28,

Who knew lips as soft as his could send fire to your bones.

With one kiss he melted me.

He had brought those bright stars to me

And made my wish come true

As i fell.

White knuckles gripped the bed sheets above you as hot breath fanned over your face.

 “You’re doing so good baby.” His words were soft, cushioning the pain you felt.

Eyes squeezed shut a single tear ran down the side of your face. Trying his best to comfort you Leon opened your hands to hold them through it all, giving it three squeezes.

I love you. Opening you’re eyes you’re met with Leon looking back down at you with a smile. “There you are.”

Leaning down he placed his soft lips against yours, bringing you down from the stars.

                                                            May 5th

Nothing hurts more then watching you leave.

Leave the small apartment.

Leave the small city.

Leave the state.

Leave my life.

Leave my touch.

Leave my embrace.

“No Leon!” You threw your hands in the air. “How can I be happy and proud of you when you are leaving.” Tears brimmed your eyes and the world became blurry.

Leon stood up and hugged your for what would seem to be the last time in a long time. Kissing the crown of your head he rubbed your back as he mumbled. “I’ll come back. You know home is with you.”

                                                              September 26,

Home was…

Different.

He was different.

Broken, tired, scared, hopeless.

He was

gone.

“Come on Love, you have to eat.” Walking in the dark room, all you could make out was an outline of Leon’s limp body.

He’s been in this depressive hole every since he came back from Raccoon City and survived the incident. There was nothing more that Leon wanted to do then stay in bed with you, holding you. He was tired, so so tired. 

Sitting down on the edge of the bed you rubbed his leg through the comforter hoping to bring any sort of relief to the hell he’s lived thorough; even if it was small. You frowned at his lack of response. 

All you wanted was Leon back.

                                                              December 22,

He wasn’t coming back.

Not his old self at least.

I’m slowly watching him fade away.

Slipping through the cracks.

The only part that keeps him here is the metal wrapped around my finger.

“You’re home?” Quickly you closed your tattered-up leather notebook and stood up.

“Yea…I’m home.” Leon said suspiciously as you walked up to him and hugged him.

Leon hesitianly hugged you back before his voice vibrated between your bodies. “What’s in that notebook? I always see you with it.” 

Eyes wide you pull back from the hug. “Nothing of importance.” You laughed nervously.

“Seriously love, it seems important. You keep that thing with you at all times, always writing in it.” He walked over to where you threw the book on the coffee table. “Ever since college.” He leaned down slightly to pick it up.

Rushing over to him you tried to grab the notebook but it was too late.

                                                         December 24,

I am yours,

The way the sea,

Belongs to the moon

Belongs to the sky.

I love you.

There is no limit to what I can give you.

Even when this world is long forgotten,

A whisper of dust between stars.

I will love you.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Taglist: @hermizery @alewesker @ballorawan740 @lastaceylia00 @chunnies @d10nsaint@darklinxx

[starogeorgina]

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬

Paring: Harwin Strong × reader

Warnings: Swearing, hints of violence

3.03

One hand rests on your bump, while the other holds onto Aerion’s hand. Your second born son had separation anxiety as a toddler, so everywhere he went, he had to hold onto your hand. Aerion had mostly grown out of it, but whenever he was nervous or afraid, holding your hand would soothe and comfort him, and being around a place he was unfamiliar with had caused him to become more quiet than normal.

Ada was sitting beside her grandsire, Ser Lyonel, and was completely caught up in his tales of Harrenhal, a place she had yet to visit. It did worry you slightly how pale your father-in-law seems, but perhaps he was exhausted from playing with your children or the worry felt after receiving a raven saying his wife was sick with a fever. Your father beams as Vaegon tells him about his bond with Nightmare and how large his dragon is.

You feel a tug on your dress, and Aerion quietly asks if he’s allowed to go and play with his cousins in the gardens. “Of course, sweetling,” you smile. “I’ll let you know when it’s time to get ready for supper.”

A few moments had passed before Aegon approached you. He slid into the chair beside you and let out a huff. “Why does he still hold your hand?”

“It comforts him.”

“It’s weird.”

As much as Aegon’s comment irritates you, you couldn’t deny that a mother showing so much affection to her son would be weird to him, simply because he wasn’t used to it. “It’s not weird; some children find comfort and warmth from being close to their parents.”

Your brother brushes stands of strangely silvery hair out of his face. Scrunching his nose up, he says, “But why do you let him?”

His question is painful to hear. “Because he’s my son, and I want him to feel safe.”

Aegon doesn’t reply for several moments, and when he finally speaks again, he makes a remark about how Sunfyre's dragon was bigger than Varos.

“Is that so?” You stand and motion for him to follow; instead, Aegon stares at you blankly, so you take his hand and lead him to the window. An action that doesn’t go unnoticed by your father, who smiles.

“What are we looking at?”

“Wait for it…”

Your brother is left speechless as a dark shadow cast by Varos overtakes the keep. He had grown so large over the past few years that he was now the same size as the wild dragons. Feeling slightly smug, you grin. “What was that you were saying, brother?”

“How did he get so big?”

A mixture of amazement and confusion was painted across his face. Remembering how fascinated you were with the size of Dreamfyre, who was the largest dragon you had seen when you were Aegon’s age, you smile. “Two hundred years before the doom, the Valyrians settled on Dragonstone, and it’s believed they used sorcery and magic to shape it like dragons on purpose, so that it instilled fear in those who saw it. It's said that the same magic that lingers on the island is what causes the dragons who live there to thrive.”

“And you really believe that?”

“Do you think Varos would have grown so large otherwise?”

Aegon says nothing, but you smile, noticing he’s still loosely holding your hand.

—

“If you cannot drink wine, you should at least indulge in one of these. The cream is to die for.”

You pick up one of the strawberry tarts laid out amongst the bread, cheeses, fruits, and sweet tea that Ser Laenor had brought to your sister's quarters. It had been some time since you spent any real time with your cousin, so it was pleasant to spend some time with him.

Noticing Ada watching you closely, you dip your finger into the cream on top of your tart. You pretend to go to lick your finger, but instead you wipe it on the tip of her nose. The giggle she lets out warms your heart.

Laenor leans back in his chair with a faint smile on his lips, his face clouded from consuming so much wine. He was an unhappy man, and neither the richest of Dornish wine nor the finest of men would help him find peace. Sometimes you wonder if his love for his sons is the only thing keeping him alive.

“Where are the boys?”

“They are with Ser Tyland.”

Laenor takes a large gulp of his wine, finishing the cup before placing it down. “And Ser Harwin?”

“In the training yard, he was instructed by Rhaenyra to supervise my nephews and brothers sparing,” you laugh. “It won’t be long now until your sister has her babe; Daemon is convinced it’s another girl.”

You stay in your cousin's company until it’s time to take Ada to attend her lesson in High Valyrian.

—

“Might I ask what you’re staring at?”

Harwin chuckles. He was leaning against the doorway, seeming content watching as you unbraided your hair since deciding to remain in your quarters for the rest of the evening. “I couldn't help but notice how beautiful you look.”

You feel your heart skip a beat at his words and the way he looks at you.

You smile, thinking of his compliment as your fingers untangle the wavy strands of hair still stuck together. “How are my nephews coming along in their training?”

“I think the sooner the boys come to Dragonstone, the better.”

His response takes you by surprise. “Oh, my father told me Jace and Luke were training daily, so I assumed they would be getting along fine.”

“Cole is teaching your brother’s cruelty; he had Jacaerys fight both Aegon and Aemond at the same time. The poor lad didn’t have a chance.”

Your heart sinks at the news, and you feel a rage building inside of you. “I didn’t realize it was that cun—Cole was training them; I thought it would have been another knight training Jacaerys and Lucerys.”

Harwin stands beside you and runs his own fingers through your hair, enjoying the feel of the soft texture against his calloused hands. “Life will be much better for them in Dragonstone, for all of us. Besides, it will be better for Ada and Lucerys to grow up together.”

Not long after the birth of your daughter, Rhaenyra and Laenor proposed a betrothal between your daughter and their second-born son, sweet Lucerys. At first, Harwin was hesitant to accept because they are cousins; however, he had to admit he preferred it to the Valyrian custom of siblings marrying. And most importantly, you knew a son of Rhaenyra would always treat your daughter kindly.

You rest your palm on your stomach and say, “Hopefully, my love.”

—

Luckily, you remember the knights shift patterns from all your years of sneaking around the red keep and use them to your advantage. You sneak into Ser Criston's quarters just before he finishes for the night.

Surprised by your presence, the knight jumps back until he’s pressed against the wall. As you step closer to Sir Criston, you see the amusement on his face. “What is your intention towards Jacaerys?” you demand. “Rhaenyra has told me everything.”

A smug look spreads across Criston’s face until he fills the tip of your dagger just under his chin. He takes a deep breath before replying. “I have no ill intentions towards the boy, princess.”

“I don’t believe you. You’ve known all along who his biological father is, and yet you continue to torment my sister?” You ask, confused and frustrated.

“Did she tell you I asked her to marry me?”

“Yes, she mentioned some ridiculous proposal of you running away together to Essos and marrying for love.”

“I’m sure your husband would enjoy hearing that you find marrying for love ridiculous.”

“Jest about my husband again,” you dare, while pressing the blade up enough to cause more pressure. “You gave into temptation and blamed my sister for soiling your white cloak; is that it?”

“You’ve always been very observant, haven’t you, princess?”

“None of this is Jacaerys fault.” Seeing the fleeting look of fear in the knight's eyes, you lower the blade. The only reason you were giving Criston a chance to change his ways was because he cared for your younger siblings, especially Aegon. It was no secret that neither Alicent nor your father gave him the attention he needed to feel loved. “He is innocent in all of this, and need I remind you that any punishment Rhaenyra would receive if the truth was revealed would be much worse for you.”

“I understand,” he says meekly.

As you turn to leave, Criston suddenly grabs your arm roughly, then spins you to face him. He leans in and plants a kiss on your lips. You're taken aback by the unexpected display of affection from him, and you slap him hard across the face, feeling your cheeks burning with rage.

The knight looks at you with sincerity in his eyes. “It was never Rhaenyra I wanted, princess; it was always you.”

[hungryhungryhannibalhimbo]

The fever had broken and it wasn’t the only thing. There was a sore readiness swelling in Will’s limbs. He was beyond done with bed rest. He ached to have hot flesh under his fingertips again, the blood drenched cotton of an under shirt, a cut he could rub salt into.

How long had it been since his becoming? Since the slaying of the dragon? Since he finally saw? He couldn’t be certain. He’d been slipping in and out of consciousness, the frigid water of his cliff side baptism shuddering his lungs, the places where Dolarhyde had penetrated him leaving him fever slicked and groggy. Somewhere around a week, maybe.

They were somewhere in Lithuania, Chiyoh’s doing no doubt. The air smelled different there, chlorophyll verdant and familiar, a thicket of greenery deeper in Hannibal’s mind than Will would ever get to sink to. It was a teasing scent. He relished in it.

Will had seen Chiyoh’s face when he’d first come to on a boat somewhere off the Atlantic where he’d thrown them. Some conscious bit of him processed surprise that she bothered to pull him out along with Hannibal, but now that he was less water logged, he figured she wouldn’t want to upset her childhood friend by leaving him for dead.

She’d come into Will’s room to clean his wounds, change his bandages, take his temperature, the like. Hannibal came more often but Will appreciated when it was Chiyoh instead. She was colder yes, never speaking to him, rougher with her movements, no tenderness there. He didn't need tenderness if it wasn't from Hannibal. And he knew Chiyoh was there so Hannibal wouldn’t be, that she’d promised to care for Will to ensure the man cared for himself. Will appreciated that. As fun as it had been to watch Hannibal be taken down by a bullet, it would be no fun at all if it kept him that way.

There was too much nervous energy built up, too much adrenaline, too strong a craving to kill and consummate again. Will had to get out of the bed. Sharp pains and dull aches nipped at him as he pulled himself to his feet, grew reaccustomed to standing but he ignored the little bites and wandered toward the mirror in the room.

It was dark in this place they were staying, middle of the night it seemed, and Will was caught off guard by how he looked in his reflection. He was slightly gaunt. He’d struggled to keep food down throughout the week, and his eyes looked all black cast under the shadow of his brows. His features seemed sharper in the moonlight, more wicked than they were supposed to be, but this sight was familiar to Will.

The pounding he’d felt all week in his skull as he recovered came back with a violence and he could so easily picture the velvety sharpness of antlers pushing through his skin, out his scalp, brushing past the curls on his head to form a silhouette. The shadowy figure looking back at Will in the mirror was the stagman. It might have been pain induced derangement, but Will had never felt so stunning.

He wandered out into the hallway, footsteps heavy and slow after all the turbulence and tiredness of recent events. Something in the echoes and creaks of this old house told him where to go, a bloodhound after prey. It wasn't the old Lecter estate, no this was somewhere else. But still something of Hannibal breathed in the walls and swallowed Will full, Jonah in the belly of the whale where he belonged.

He came across a door, heard his heartbeat better as he turned the knob. Hannibal lay in a bed on the other side. Moonlight shone through the bedroom window and cast around him like a halo, made the hair on his head glow silver. He was breathtaking. Will stood there in the doorway to enjoy the sight, crossroads still more comfortable than catharsis.

"You shouldn't be out of bed yet. Your body needs more time to heal." Hannibal's accent was thicker with sleep and it churned something primal in Will's gut.

"I felt antsy."

"You need to lay back down, Will. Go," the authority in Hannibal's voice was compelling but the coldness made Will uneasy.

"You're upset I pushed us off, aren't you?"

There was a sigh. "Go back to bed, Will."

"I'm sorry."

The air was still. They didn't say sorry. This wasn't right.

Hannibal turned under the covers to face Will, his eyes still closed. "For every leap of faith, there is a prayer. What were you praying for when you leapt?"

Will swallowed. There was a knot in his throat, the same kind that forms when a child knows they've done something wrong. When they are anticipating their punishment. "I wasn't praying. I was curious what would happen."

Hannibal let out a sardonic breath, a wry sort of chuckle. "Curiosity killed the cat."

"But Chiyoh brought it back."

Hannibal's lip quirked with amusement but it was still too cool. "What did you think would happen?"

"I figured God would stop us. Or he wouldn't."

Hannibal's eyes finally opened and he stared into Will. "Are you satisfied with his choice?"

"I'm emboldened by it. I gave Him a chance to bring us down and now I want to make him regret his mercy." Will did his best to match Hannibal's gaze. He wanted to carve this vow into him so he would believe it forever.

Hannibal looked away. "God doesn't have mercy. We are proof of that. Now go back to bed, Will."

This wasn't acceptable. The pounding in Will's head, the ache to touch skin and press into it with steel or teeth, the pain eating away at parts of him Dolarhyde touched in an exchange that had set Will's mind on fire so hot everyone must smell the smoke. It was all too much. And now Hannibal was rebuffing him? Ignoring the blaze he'd sparked?

Some scarred piece of Will cut through, a doubt that bled profusely. Maybe he's done with you now. Maybe his love for you hinged on the chase. Now that it's over, maybe you've lost him. He wanted to kill this piece of himself. He wanted to kill a lot of things these days. He crossed the threshold into the bedroom, charged toward Hannibal and crawled under the covers next to him.

Hannibal did not immediately respond. He just watched Will pensively, thoughts bursting through soil and blooming behind his eyes like ghost orchids.

Will tucked himself in, facing him across the pillows. "Satisfied."

Hannibal smirked, cupping the side of Will's face in his hand and running the pad of his thumb across the stitches in his cheek. "Is this you emboldened, Will? Is this God's doing?"

Will wrapped his arms around him and pulled them closer, rubbing his nose against Hannibal's in an eskimo kiss and letting their lips trace each other faintly. "I think I'm your doing, Doctor Lecter."

"No, my cunning boy," Hannibal trailed his fingers through the curls in Will's hair. "You were my undoing, and I'll never forgive you for it."

He pressed their lips together and Will breathed him in with anguish and ferocity, finally tasting the man who tore his life apart and set him free. He whimpered when Hannibal pulled back again.

"Forgiveness allows you to move on. I never want you to leave me behind again."

Hannibal scoffed. "We're cut far too deep in each other for that now."

[animatorweirdo]

Lover's Doom

You find out that your beloved friend, Fingon, had been infected with a lover's doom and was nearing his death. Will you be able to see him one last time and confess your unrequited love for him, or will you lose him and live in regret?

(Author note: Inspired by Hanahaki disease, but since this is supposed to have a happy ending. I took some liberties in modifying it a bit. Hope you enjoy it. A little AU for the white-scaled dragon princess. )

() = Elvish

Warnings: Fingon being sick, coughing flowers, blood, mentions of insomnia, paleness, some lying, reader being worried sick, some backstory on a dangerous flower, losing the ability to love, being on the deathbed, angst, confession, (Perhaps a little cringey: I tried to make the kiss sound passionate) and a good ending.

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

You noticed immediately that something was wrong when Fingon came to visit you. 

Your strong sense of smell allowed you to smell many small things most humans weren’t capable of, including smells that could tell something about someone’s health. It was a troublesome ability when you were young since you did not know how to turn it off, but now it is useful as it helps you locate things and helps Ioreth when she couldn't pinpoint the location of the illness. However, you never imagined the day when you would catch a scent of change in Fingon’s health. 

Your beloved friend had come to greet you and share exciting rumors and news he had heard in his home like usual, but you caught a strange scent from his breath – it was faint but noticeable. It smelled like… flowers. You also noticed other things that left you concerned. 

Fingon looked more tired than usual. He was sometimes tired from his duties as a prince, but this time he looked like he had not slept well for a long time. He also seemed to have trouble breathing, taking in deep breaths like his lungs had lost their function and he had to stop for a moment to rest. You became even more concerned when you heard him cough and a flower petal fell out of his mouth. 

You tried to inquire about it, but he claimed he had been working a lot these days and the petal was from a herb he accidentally swallowed after drinking tea. 

You were in full alarm after his explanation. Fingon was lying and trying to hide something. 

Fingon always had the energy that could last for days. It was nearly impossible for him to get easily tired. He was also not clumsy enough to swallow a flower petal and not notice it. 

It made no sense to you, so you observed him as he tried to go on with his visit like usual. 

Elves had a strong immunity to illnesses, so even a common fever would have been impossible for them, but all the signs indicated Fingon was suffering from some sort of illness. He seemed to be having a hard time breathing and was less energetic which was terribly unusual for him and you also noticed certain paleness in him. Even Ioreth noticed something was not right, but couldn't tell what was bothering him. Elves did not get sick often, so there was little knowledge of what could be bothering him. And the scent of flowers on his breath started bothering you more and more during his visit. 

You tried to talk to him about it again when it was time for him to leave, but he still insisted that everything was alright and that there was nothing to worry about. 

You did not believe him, especially when he came to visit you for the second time and the scent seemed to have grown stronger along with his symptoms. 

The scent had become more noticeable and Fingon only joked that he might have eaten flowers on his way, but you found his joke less funny and became concerned by his behavior since he brought you a large pile of books you might like. 

He often brought you books, so you could hone your elvish and enjoy simple stories written by his kin, but this time he had bought you himself a large amount of books and told you that you didn’t need to worry about returning them. They were yours to own. 

You would have felt touched and honored by the gift, but you only became worried by the strange act. Why was he acting like you two were not going to see each other again? 

He even brought certain pastries and treats for you to enjoy, even things you had never seen before. It was nice and you two enjoyed eating together. You would have nearly forgotten about it if he hadn’t suddenly started coughing like there was something stuck in his throat. 

Fingon coughed and covered his mouth. You became worried as his coughing was worse than the last time. You then witnessed as he vomited more flower petals into his hand, all in different colors. 

You were stunned by the sight and nearly demanded him to explain what was bothering him, or if he had actually started eating flowers for breakfast. 

He hid the flower petals away and yet again claimed there was nothing wrong, that he only had an accident in the morning. It nearly made you want to shake him till he spat more flowers or told you the truth because what kind of accidents would make him cough flowers? 

The third time he visited, he only seemed to have become worse. 

He looked like he could barely stay awake and had shadows under his eye. It was obvious he was suffering from insomnia. He also looked like he could barely breathe. 

He wanted to go around the forest, but this time you forced him to take some medicine first because you were not convinced he would stay awake before you two could even get past the town. He relented and accepted the medicine made by Ioreth, which should at least help him refresh himself and clear up his pipes. After taking the medicine, he looked a bit better but he refused to take more for greater caution. 

You then agreed to go through the forest with him, quietly observing him and the scent that followed him. You failed to make any sense of him. Why was he avoiding telling the truth? What was about this flowery scent in his breath? Why was he coughing flower petals in the first place? 

You never realized the truth could be more horrifying. 

You two came to a river and the atmosphere was lovely, but then you noticed that Fingon was gone and caught a scent of blood. 

Panicked, you looked for him, calling out his name and following the scent of blood away from the river. Luckily, you found him leaning against a tree not too far from you, but then you were horrified when you saw his hand holding petals and a whole flower covered in his blood. He had a small trail falling from the corner of his mouth, so it didn’t take long for you to realize he had cough-up blood. 

This time you did not allow him to avoid telling the truth. 

You grabbed him and demanded him to tell you the truth because coughing petals was one thing, but coughing a full-intact flower was not. When he tried again assuring you it was nothing, you snapped at him, angrily telling him to stop lying. 

You then gently expressed your worries and pleaded with him to tell you what was wrong with him. You wanted to help him, but couldn’t do anything as long as he continued avoiding the truth. 

Your quiet voice and pleading eyes might have helped crack him and Fingon finally revealed he had contracted a rare illness called Mîrumbor, or ‘Lover’s doom’. He explained how he had it since childhood. He had foolishly wandered into a forbidden garden as a child and came face with a flower that gave the illness to him. He explained his illness had simply flared up and the healers of his kin were working tirelessly for medicine for him, so you didn’t need to worry about him. 

It was just another lie because he never came the next time of his supposed visit. 

You worried for him and couldn't comprehend why he would avoid telling you the full truth. 

Ioreth and no one else knew about Fingon’s rare illness. The only one who would know would be the elves themselves. 

You then decided to travel with Freda and her father to the nearest elven city since they needed to go there for shopping. 

You visited the local herb shop and asked the owner more about Mîrumbor. There you learned the full truth about the rare illness. It was contracted from a flower that once existed in Valinor, and when an elf breathes in the pollen, the seeds would implant in their lungs and react strongly to the emotion of love. The flower was soon removed from existence when more elves became sick from it, and the only way for the infected to be cured was to receive the love of the one they held feelings toward. If not, the flowers in their lungs would soon grow to their full extent and suffocate the infected till they died. There was another way, but it involved removing the roots of the flowers from the lungs through surgery. However, the side effect of such removal would cause the infected to lose the ability to feel love, not just for their once beloved, but for everything. That’s why the flower was banned and removed from Valinor. 

You were devastated by the truth. Fingon had lied that his people were working on a medicine for him, but there was no such thing. You also knew that he held feelings for someone, who did not love him back. 

You were envious of that person because you were hopelessly in love with Fingon, but you pushed your feelings back because you did not want to ruin your friendship with him. However, now you were heartbroken and devastated. 

When you mentioned the symptoms the last time you saw Fingon, the shop owner looked at you with pity and explained it was already too late for him. There was a high chance he was already on his deathbed. If the infected vomited intact flowers and had not received the love of their beloved, then their only salvation was the surgery. 

Denial was the first thing that settled in you. You could not imagine Fingon lying on his bed, vomiting flowers and possibly dying, neither could you imagine him going through with the surgery and losing his ability to feel love. Fingon was perhaps one of the most loving people you had ever met, and you knew him well enough that he would rather choose death than lose his ability to feel love. 

You did not want to believe it, but neither, could you deny the possibility. Fingon had not sent any letters to explain the reason for his absence, he always sent a letter when something came up and he couldn’t come for a visit. 

You wanted to believe Fingon and that maybe you were overreacting, so you waited for the next day of his visit, but when he failed to show himself for the second time. You decided to fly on Meraxes and come to him instead. 

In the middle of the night, Meraxes brought you to the elven city where you knew Fingon lived with his father. Never in your life would you have dared to go there on your own. Your heart was beating fearfully against your chest, thinking what would happen if the people there were to see you and your scales, but your desperation to see Fingon gave you courage. 

You landed near the mountains and told Meraxes to stay hidden before venturing into the elven city. 

Luckily, the gates were still open for people to walk in and stay the night in the city. The guards paid you no mind even if you wore your gloves, cloak, and veil to cover your face. 

You quietly approached the castle where Fingon most likely lived. To avoid suspicion, you went to the gardens and stood there. You tried to sniff out Fingon’s scent and it proved easier than you thought as you managed to pinpoint his scent coming from a balcony, not too far from the garden. You observed the balcony and guessed it must be somewhere on the third floor. 

Your face went pale. Fingon was dying. His scent was filled with the scent of flowers, blood, and what you recognized as a scent when someone was nearing death. Thanks to your father and his violent tendencies, you were more than familiar with that scent. 

There was no way the guards would allow you to walk in and seek Fingon without revealing your face to them. They would definitely suspect you being a spy of Morgoth if they saw your scales and Meraxes would fly in to rescue you. Having her burn down the city for you would only make things worse, so you decided to do something you would have never imagined yourself doing and sneak inside by climbing. 

You had enough strength to jump and pull yourself over the walls, quietly climbing toward the balcony where Fingon’s scent came from. 

Surprisingly, you succeeded in reaching the balcony without alerting the guards and carefully looked inside the room, hearing voices and seeing someone lying on a bed. You nearly forgot to breathe when you realized it was Fingon who was lying on the bed. His skin was nearly white as the snow and his dark hair cascaded around him like a dark waterfall, unbraided from his golden ribbons. You had to use your nose to check if he was even breathing. To your relief he was, but very weakly. 

You then listened to the conversation among the healers and one elf you assumed was Fingon’s father. It was perhaps the first time you got to use elvish with other elves than Fingon, but what they said was heartbreaking. They spoke about removing the flower, but Fingon had refused the treatment. Therefore there was nothing they could do but give him some medicine to relieve him from the pain. You failed to understand a few words, but one thing was clear. Fingon was not going to live through the night. 

When you heard them leave and lock the door, you took the chance to climb over the balcony and walk inside. 

“Fingon…” You said gently, avoiding startling him. Fingon’s eyes were filled with shock when he saw you. However, after seeing you, it seemed some strength had returned to him. 

“(Name)... Is that… really you? Are you really here?” Fingon questioned, not believing his eyes while you kneeled beside his bed. He started violently coughing, vomiting blood and flowers out of his mouth. 

You quickly grabbed the towel from the stand beside his bed and helped him clean up the mess. 

“Thank you…” Fingon uttered while dropping his head back down on the pillow. 

“Fingon…” You started, anger and sorrow mixing together as you looked at his state. “Why didn’t you tell me the whole truth? Why didn’t you tell me you were dying and there was no cure for this illness?” 

“Except… the love of someone you had feelings for,” Fingon looked away in shame after you said that. 

“Why?” You uttered as tears swelled in your eyes. 

“I’m sorry…” Fingon answered weakly. “I knew… if you knew of my incoming death. It would devastate you,” 

“You already devastated me when you started hiding this from me. You are dying, and you still dared to assure me that everything was going to be alright. What if…” You hesitated to say it, the pain in your chest becoming worse. “What if you died and I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye to you?” You asked as your tears refused to stay and started to fall freely from your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, (Name). I did not want to hurt you like this,” Fingon muttered, not liking the sight of your tears. 

“But I do not wish to live as an elf who’s not capable of feeling love. I would not only lose the feelings I once had for that person, but I would stop feeling love for everything else, the things I love to do, the people I care about… my family,” He explained while taking a deep breath. 

You dried your tears. “Is there truly no other way to save you?” You asked. 

“How did you even last this long? The elf who told me about the illness said that it only takes a year for the flower in the lungs to develop and kill its host if they do not receive the love of the one they held feelings for,” You questioned. 

“There is a medicine that can slow down the growth of the flower and even put it to slumber, but not forever. It was meant to buy time as I had not yet met the one I would possess feelings for, but when I thought… I found the one, they did not love me back. And now…” Fingon started coughing again. 

You waited and watched as he vomited more flowers out of his mouth. You helped him clean again and the towel turned red from the blood. 

Fingon looked at you with tired eyes. “The medicine lost its effectiveness and now I’m nearing my death,” 

He then chuckled dryly. 

“I’m such a fool, “ He mumbled. 

“Everyone keeps telling me I’m this valiant prince with a romantic heart, yet I ended up being infected with this flower and fell for the wrong person, the one who could have been my salvation, “ Fingon then looked toward you. “Did you know that us elves only fall in love once?” He asked and you nodded. 

“So, somehow I managed to doom myself not only once, or twice, but three times,” He laid his arm across his eyes, trying to avoid showing you the tears that threatened to fall. “The first getting myself infected with this flower, the second falling for someone who did not love me back, then the doom of Mandos itself because me and my people stood with Feanor,” He listed, his tone filled with anguish. 

“It’s most likely nothing compared to the hardship you endured, but I have been certainly unlucky,” He said with a dry smile that fell into a frown. 

He then suddenly grabbed your hand and looked at you with that tired yet gentle expression of his. 

“I’m sorry again, (Name). I should have not kept you in the dark about this. It was unfair of me,” He apologized. “Seeing you here in person already lifts so much pain from my chest,” He smiled. 

“I loved the adventures we had together. I enjoyed helping you learn my people’s language and you already speak so well. I think your linguistics skills could have even rivaled my uncle,” He smiled in humor, and you smiled too, but only for a moment. “In truth… befriending you and going on adventures together helped relieve this growing pain in my chest. It was like finally living the life I once dreamed of having with that person, but better,” He confessed. “I would have loved to go one more adventure with you, to show you the lands beyond Hithlum,” He added. 

“Pity I couldn't get on Meraxes’s good sides. I was hoping one day I would have been able to charm her to my side,” He remarked, making your heart ache even more painfully. 

“Thank you, (Name). For being my friend, for the time I got to spend with you, and for coming to see me for the last time. Now I at least can pass away somewhat without regrets,” Fingon closed his eyes while holding onto your hand. 

You two remained quiet. Fingon’s words cruelly played within your mind and it only enforced the pain in your heart. All this because someone could not love him back. 

“I can’t accept this…” You uttered, gaining Fingon’s attention. 

“(Name)...” Fingon looked at you. 

“I know you might not feel anything more than what is appropriate between friends and since you’re in love with someone else, but it is thanks to you I started liking myself and being less ashamed for being born like this,” You looked at him in the eye. “You are the first who knew both of my secrets yet you did not chase me away or treat me like a freak, even when Meraxes nearly succeeded in killing you twice,” You said. 

“For the first time I felt like I could truly breathe and being with you helped me be less afraid of the world around me,” You stated, “And when I told you the truth of who I used to be and started harming myself, you still cared for me,”

“Then…” you nearly hesitated for what you were about to say. 

“I thought I would only see you as a friend, one of the first true friends I ever had, but then– I started having these deep feelings for you,” You revealed. Fingon’s eyes widened as you continued. 

“You are like… the sunrise whenever you visit, bringing light and filling the world around me with so many new colors. Or like a small stream, gentle yet still resiliently continuing forward, never stopping even once. Or like a wind that soothes my troubles away and helps me breathe,” You explained. “I have never experienced such things before meeting you,” you added. 

“I knew I loved you when you cared for my arms, sang to me, and even helped me see something positive in myself, but I also knew you were in love with someone else, so I pushed those feelings away, also because I believed I could never receive such affection,” You looked away, feeling ashamed.  

“I was happy enough to keep my feelings to myself because I did not wish to ruin the friendship we had and I wished for your happiness, but now I think it would only hurt me more if I didn’t tell you,” 

You looked at him again, bringing his hand against your chest, over your heart. 

“Fingon. I care about you more than myself, and I do not know what I would do with my life if you died,” You declared. “And seeing you accept your fate is killing me from the inside,” 

“If you’re so willing to die, at least take away this pain from my heart first, you cruel bastard,” You started uncontrollably sobbing, gripping his hand against your heart and waiting for his rejection. 

Fingon’s eyes began to shimmer with incoming tears. He then extended his other hand toward you, gently holding your cheek and drying the tears that fell from your eyes. You sobbed, holding his hand that gently caressed your face. 

“I never thought…” Fingon uttered. “The fact you dared to come to see me is proof enough of your confession,” He added. 

You opened your eyes.  

“I always believed elves could only love once, and my only salvation was the one I held feelings for, but… maybe it had always been possible to fall in love again,” Fingon stated. 

“You…?” You started, sniffing. 

“You could love someone like me?” You asked, nearly whispering the question. 

“I never once thought of you as a freak,” Fingon replied. “Freaks do not possess such a gentle yet passionate heart like you, and such otherworldly beauty,” He said in awe as the moonlight seemed to make your white scales glow. 

“Maybe… I fell in love with you the first time I saw you. Dressed in red, and glowing with diamonds on your skin,” He said with a familiar soft grin. 

You nearly felt like losing your breath. 

“(I love you, my dragon princess)” Fingon uttered, his eyes holding a new type of fondness directed toward you. 

“I love you too… my prince,” You said, then leaned in to lock your lips with him. 

You two held each other, unable to let go. You held on to his face and kissed him like it was your last day on earth together, which in sad truth most likely was. Fingon felt powerful warmth as he held on to you and for a moment, he believed you were breathing fire within him like a dragon, warm and passionate like you were breathing in all the love you had for him, burning away the flower from his lungs and taking away the pain that had tormented him for years. It was nearly overwhelming to feel something he had sought for so long, yet he could not let go, fearing for the warmth to vanish and be replaced by the cold again. 

The night suddenly passed quickly and Fingon found himself awake on his bed, awakened by the sunlight that shone from his balcony and able to breathe the air that flowed into his room. He was stunned as he breathed in the air. It was like he was taking his first breath in years. 

He then felt something and looked down to see a small white scale placed on his hand. It was small yet looked healthy and shimmered like a diamond. There were no traces of blood, which gave him comfort. It seemed you had carefully plucked it and left it to him as a small proof that you were truly there and were not just a dream. 

The doors to his chambers opened and Fingon saw his father walk inside. His father then froze after seeing him, dropping the items in his hands to the floor. 

“Findekano! You’re…!” His father exclaimed, his eyes filled with shock yet relief. He then began slowly approaching him. 

“You’re still alive! And well… How?” his father uttered. 

“Did….” His father was completely lost for words. 

“No,” Fingon answered, glancing at the scale in his hand. It turns out he was in love with someone else. 

“This is a miracle. Have the valars finally given us mercy?” His father asked as he kneeled beside his son’s bed. 

Fingon could only smile for his father’s comfort. His eyes noticed something silver in the distance. It was fast and far away, but with his elven eyes, he was able to notice a shape that reminded him of a giant silver bird, or a dragon to be precise. He held on to the white scale in his hand, breathing in fresh air and smiling softly.  Not yet he would tell his father, but one day with your blessing he will tell about his saving grace, the one who had saved him from a lover’s doom.

[samieree]

Helloo, could you please write heimdall x reader were she has breathing problems and is having difficulties to do something, so he starts mocking her but realizes she is really upset and sick so he takes care of her and comforts her? Thanks!!

Hiii, of course I could, sunshine 🤭 I hope you like it 💗

~

You were angry. Angry and tired, so you didn’t have energy in you to express how angry you are. Your work was taking care of dragons in Asgard. It wasn’t the work of your dreams and also not safe - the last person on your job was burned by one of the dragons… - but it was enough to afford a life and sometimes some pleasures. 

But why were you angry? Oh well… Your friend, Isac, was ill. He was working with you and he was always carrying all of the food for dragons. Like all those dead stags, pigs, boars… But now he was and there was no one else to do it, so you now had to drag this damn stag. 

It was another day of working like that and honestly, you felt worse and worse with that. Your illness started to show up more and more, as you were working harder than you should. 

After a few more minutes of dragging this damn stag, you had to sit on the ground. Your breath was heavy, you felt that you needed a longer break but you didn't have time for that. But also you couldn’t encourage yourself to get up and drag this stag to the stable for dragons. So you just sit on the ground, trying to calm your breath when you heard someone’s footsteps behind you. 

“As far as I know you’re not paid for laziness.” 

You knew this voice too well. Of course Heimdall came to mock you again, it seems he was bored again… You wanted to answer him, but first you had to take care of your breath, and that was giving him more time to be an asshole.

“Oh, now you’re ignoring me? You forgot who I am?”

“I’m not lazy…” you said, still sitting on the ground. You didn’t even turn your gaze at him, but you knew what your eyes would meet.

“So what are you doing? Spending your fifteen-minutes long break on the ground next to a dead stag?” he grimaced. It seems that he didn’t like the smell of the dead animal… 

“It’s not my break.”

“I think it is. You’re doing nothing instead of work, so it’s your break. Uncommon to take your break at the beginning of the day-”

“It’s not my damn break…!” you shouted at him, but your voice cracked in the middle of the sentence and you started coughing.

“Don’t say that you caught an illness from your dumb friend…” he shaked his head. Then he took a few steps forward and crouched in front of you. His right hand rested on your forehead, but you didn’t have a fever.

That was the moment when he realised what was going on. You weren’t lazy or “just” ill, you had some breathing problems, that’s why you couldn’t drag the stag all the way to the stable.  

He sighed heavily and got up, in the meantime taking in his hand the leg, by which you were dragging the animal. Of course he grimaced again, visibly not happy about what he was doing.

You didn’t want his help, you knew that right after he was done with it, he would come back to you and mock you even more or maybe even fire you… You didn’t know worse, listening to his rude remarks or having to look for another work. 

“I don’t need help. I can do it, I just need a few minu-”

“Lies.” he replied. “I will do it. You sit here and don’t move an inch.”

What could you do? You listened to him, turning your gaze to how easily he dragged this damn animal, like it was a feather.

He is a God, of course he is way stronger than me… I bet he could drag ten stags like this one at once and not break a sweat.

A few minutes passed before he came back. You realised it because you suddenly felt hands holding you under your arms and pulling you up. At first you squeaked in surprise. Again, when Heimdall pulled you up from the ground you felt like in his eyes you don’t weigh anything. 

“I assure you, I know that you’re not as light as a feather.” you felt yourself blush a bit at this remark. After all those minutes of rest your breath came back to normal and you were no longer scared that you’re going to suffocate. “Until your “friend” comes back to work you won’t drag anything around. There is surely someone who can do it for you.”

“Thank you…”

“Oh, but don’t imagine it’ll be me, I have more important work to do.” you rolled your eyes at these words. Of course, he won’t get his white clothes dirty. At least not for some mortal like you. “It’s obvious I won’t, but on the other hand we don’t want you to die, we had enough problems when the last person with your job burned… Anyway, where is your house?” you barely thought about saying it to him and he already continued. “Great, not too far away. Come on sunshine, you can have a day off. Just don’t get used to it.” He put an arm around you and pulled you after him toward his animal, Gulltoppr. 

It was the first time you stood so close to it, not to say sitting on it… And that’s what you were doing now. You felt Heimdall’s strong hands on your waist as he picked you up and placed you on the saddle. A moment later he sit behind you and held the reins. 

“Also don’t get used to this.” 

You nodded but also smiled. You already knew that this probably isn’t the last time when you experience something like that. Why? Because when Heimdall does something like all these, you surely aren’t indifferent to him. 

And he didn’t say a word since you thought that. He never lies, so he chose silence. 

But when you started to think about it more and more and your thought went to the story you once read, about cinderella and her prince, Heimdall said something: “Yes yes, I’m your prince, you’re more than safe with me, my Cinderella.”

~

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