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laurorne · 5 months ago

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Hi, can u write Daemon Targaryen x reader where she’s daemon second wife. He married her on the Valyrian way so Viserys had to acknowledge their marriage. Rhea Royce came to the capital because even hating daemon he’s her husband and humiliated her. A meeting between daemon and his wives ahahah

༊*·˚ WITH EACH LOVE YOU CUT LOOSE | daemon targaryen x niece!reader

summary: beheading is the only punishment fit for uncouth behaviour directed at the wife of daemon targaryen.

content: targaryen typical incest (uncle x niece), blood, mutual infliction of wounds, cheating on daemon's behalf, fluff, daemon is a softy, reader is catty towards rhea but feels sorry, possibly innacurate valyrian wedding?, murder!! no beta i'm so sorry

word count: 3.1k

a/n: tadaaa! sorry it took so long hun, i've been flat out with exams but i honestly loved this concept. i wasn't sure about the relationship dynamic you wanted so i assumed you meant for reader to be viserys' daughter, i hope you enjoy tho!!

The cold steel meets your lip in kind, Daemon's pointer and thumb pinching your chin in place so you don't slip from his grasp as he drags it across the soft flesh. Your nose scrunches for not even a second before you're pushing the pain back down. Your eyes meeting those of the man before you as he stares so lovingly at you, your heart hurts in its cage. Your pulse is wild and skittering as you take a deep breath.

His brow pinches slightly as a smile plays on his lips, something akin to hope and possibly admiration settling in those lilac iris'. Oh, ever-sweet Daemon, back from war and he's already offering his mind, body and soul to you in their entirety. It seems being back home, after the Stepstones had lifted a weight that'd been on his shoulders since he was sent away by his brother, your father.

His hair is fluttering along with the night breeze that cocoons Dragonstone on its spring eves. The scent of the lit candles invades your nose as you allow the wind to pull the curtain of your hair along its path.

A droplet of blood begins beading on the curve of your lip, Daemon traces his rough fingers down the edges of it, coaxing more blood to rush from the slit as he blows air onto it, perhaps comforting or enjoying the way your lashes flutter as he does so.

He seems to think the blood enough, as he swipes the pad of his thumb over the beads of blood that bloomed from the cut and he marks the Valyrian rune -fire- upon your forehead. The hand with the knife of dragon-glass upon your outstretched palm, willing you with the dip of his head to do the same he had just done.

Your hand isn't as steady as you bring it to grace upon his lip -you're far too flustered, after all these years of praying to whatever higher power would listen for him to come back to you safely. Utter infatuation and eagerness on your behalf made your cut slightly off but the dragon-glass was sharp and ensured a clean cut that allowed hot blood to pool on the bow of his lower lip nearly immediately.

Another breeze seems to coax you forward as you brush your own thumb along the trail of blood that began oozing its way towards his chin. He tilts himself forward so you can reach him with ease, his hair gathering around his face as it shields you both from the onlooking eyes of the maester and your witnesses. His eyes ever delicate as they trace the way a ringlet of hair dances along your cheek. You catch the droplet of red before it can begin its descent and mark his forehead with 'blood'.

A lingering emotion rolls over his face as your heart skitters to keep up with what's happening, not even a moon ago had he sent a letter pleading for you to greet him on Dragonstone before he returned and here you were, willing to wed this man without so much as a thought about the consequences or the rage your father would berate you with upon your return to Kings Landing. A part of your mind whispering that it was worth it, that you deserved to be loved by a man who didn't only want you for a birth claim of dragons or those pale Valyrian features of snow white hair.

Daemon's hand clasps over your smaller one as he brings the dark edge to the open planes of his palm, pushing down onto it as he guides you through the ceremony with little care of the proper way to do this.

He's waited far too long for this, and he cannot bear another second of not being able to have you as his. His flame, his soon to be wife.

He eases the blade from your fingers as he brings it down upon your own palm, it makes your breath come in shallow bursts at how oh-sp close you are to kissing him. To having him by your side, on the plush bed in the royal apartments of Dragonstone, as your husband and twin soul. Blood of the dragon mingling, like how it was supposed too.

Your tongue rolls over your top lip, licking away the coppery liquid that begins smearing across the entirety of your mouth as part your lips and watch him so delicately hold your wrist and split the warm skin in the cradle of your hand. His thumb brushes across the pulse point of your wrist as he presses your bloody, weeping hands together.

Not even the maester speaking can pull your eyes away from the deep lilac of Daemon's gaze, his pupils are dilated, round and dark as he stares into your own. You can nearly see the way he thinks, can feel what he does with the way he tightens his grasp on your hand.

"Hen lantoti ānogar." Blood of two.

The maesters cold hands brush across both of yours as he begins wrapping the reddened silk around the only point you and Daemon are touching as thick blood mixes and drips to the cup he holds beneath.

"Va sȳndroti vāedroma," Joined as one.

Your shoulders rise and fall as you breath in the salty brine of the ocean, but you cannot escape the man you love dearly as you catch a huff of him. Heady and warm and everything you crave.

"Mēro perzot gīhoti." Ghostly flame

He pushes the cup into your hand and your stomach churns as you bring it to your lips, the intricate headpiece you wear making your neck tilt as you stare deeply into his eyes over the rim as you drain half the cup, licking your lips as the rich blood smothers out anything else you could possibly feel.

Elēdroma iārza sīr. And song of shadows.

He looks down so proudly as you lick the crimson away from your teeth, tongue peeking out for a split second as you capture a stray droplet at the corner of your lip. He had preached when you were but a young girl, that dragons weren't afraid of blood, and you'd be damned by the gods now if you didn't live up to that.

Izulī ampā perzī. Two hearts as embers.

You bring the goblet away from the seam of your lips as you offer it to him between your bodies.

Pūmī lanti sēteksi. Forged in fourteen fires.

He glances down at it with a straight face before looking back up to you, hand wrapping around yours as he moves to take the cup. Warmth spreads from the contact as your lids flutter.

Hen jenȳ māzīlarion. A future promised in glass.

Daemon drags the cup to his lips with a look that burns you down to the core like one of the wicks that struggle against the winds, he lights a fire in the pit of your stomach that you're sure won't be extinguished for years to come. He stares you down, the cup idly held between you as you grasp his hand just the bit harder, eager. He downs what you couldn't in a mouthful, holding eye contact as his adams apple bobs with the swallow.

Qēlossa ozūndesi. The stars stand witness.

He shoves the cup in the maester direction, and the old frail man takes the cup with a trembling hand.

Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo. The vows spoken through time.

Rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi. Of darkness and light.

He cards a hand through the strands of loose hair, tucking it behind your ear as his eyes skate across every feature and dip and slope of your face. Years apart had not changed the way he watched you, the way he took in everything about you without so much as a thought about what he would gain from marrying you, aside from your presence as his wife.

Your heart beats wildly against the cage of your ribs as you place a hand on his cheek, stroking the skin there as you lean up to him, lashes fluttering in anticipation.

His hand cradles your neck as he drags you the rest of the way in, eyes closed as his lips press against yours. Blood is smeared between you both, the cuts weeping anew with the ferocity and want that he kisses you with. Your breath is stolen from you as he bites at your lip, breathing your air as he all but devours you.

Your arrival to Kings Landing after three months of hiding upon Dragonstone with your insatiable, newly wed husband had been rather... quiet. There had not been an entourage of royal maids or knights or even the High Council. It was simply Otto Hightower, accompanied by your fiery younger sister in her riding gear who looked less than pleased as you dismounted your darling dragon alongside Daemon and Caraxes. The Hand to the King had simply said that your grandsire was waiting patiently in Maegors Holdfast, and that, should you say anything, ensure it is an apology.

It was eerily silent as Viserys sat across from you in his chambers, deep within his cups as he regarded you with what you could only consider contempt. Your sister had been no less the same, you had married the man she was pining after, afterall. But you had no qualms about the dissatisfaction of your father or sister, it was your choice, and your life. You'd left your grandsire's chambers in a flurry of fabric as he had regarded you as a child throwing a tantrum, and that you would soon realize that you would come to regret this.

Afterall, Daemon was still married to the lady Rhea Royce in Runestone and that he wouldn't be willing to annul the marriage.

You think that perhaps Daemon had spoken to your father -his brother- because no less than a moon later King Viserys had sent out letters to invite the lords to a tournament in the honour of his eldest daughters marriage. 'To officially announce this bountiful marriage', as Viserys had put it.

So here you were, four moons after your marriage to Daemon, being regarded by your husband as you sat at the vanity in nothing but a shift.

"I feel that today won't be held together well." You allow your eyes to drift from the task of brushing your hair, Daemon is sat against the bed in his attire for today. Dark fabrics that fit him well, staying in Kings Landing for the past month had perhaps tamed him. Or maybe he was laying in wait for the moment he could prove his brother right about his marriage.

"Perhaps. Though I trust you will remain civil." You all but say back, fingers weaving through loose strands as you pull it into a long plait.

"If any lords are to look at you with so much as a lewd face, I may have to pull Dark Sister from their chests."

You hum, hand drifting to your swollen stomach automatically as one of your handmaids steps in to tie the braid off, her fingers not as gentle on your snow white hair as Daemon's were.

"Oh how you make me swoon, husband."

He huffs a breath as he stands from the softness of your bed, hand sitting upon the pommel of his sword. He wanders toward your seated form as he presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, hand smoothing over your bare shoulder as it moves past your breast and to your bump. Thumb stroking circles on the fabric above it as he presses a final kiss to your temple.

"I'll let your maids dress you today, send for me when you're ready to join the festivities."

You lean up to plant a final kiss to the corner of his lips before you allow his hand to fall away. His scent stays with you for a moment and so does his warmth, before he pulls away fully. Leaving the room in careful strides as the maids swarm you nearly immediately.

Being apart of the Royal family meant that you had the responsibility of greeting every longwinded lord who walked into the Great Hall, with a gentle smile and a soft greeting and a monotonous non-heartfelt 'thank you for making the journey for today'.

It's as if the King knew that you hated such things, that you loathed the frequent meetings of the High Council and the repetitive greetings. The only thing that got you through such affairs was the soothing presence of Daemon at your side, his occasional mocking words and dubious glances when a lord with eyes to big for his cock made a compliment to close to inappropriate.

Dinner had been served long ago, the rich oily meats sat across the tables made your stomach churn and the berry juices in your cup seem less than appetizing. So you opted for something savory, the lemon cakes and loaves of bread and soup.

Midway through a bite of a warm lemoncake, there was a voice you hadn't heard tonight, someone that had Daemon leaning further back in his chair as he took a deep swill of his goblet, a taunting look on his face as he glared the woman who stepped towards the table that sat before the Iron Throne with the entire Royal family.

"Thank you for inviting me to the events, my King." Her short brown curls were tied back as best as could be managed, she was dressed up in bronzy fabrics that rippled in the light of the braziers that lined the walls. She was... beautiful. Roynish in her appearance and the hardness of her features, a Northern Beauty for lack of better words.

Your Grandsire grinned widely as he greeted her back, "I was afraid you wouldn't be able to make it Lady Royce, I trust you found your travel to Kings Landing well?"

Oh. So this was the Rhea Royce? The... Bronze Bitch? As Daemon had so lightly put it in all his letters.

"It was a long ride, your grace. But worth it to join the festivities. And to see... my husband after so long apart."

The glare that's thrown towards your left is surely meant for Daemon. This situation was becoming more hilarious the longer you waited for her to greet him, and you by proxy. Oh, you had to greet her first.

"Lady Royce." You smile saccharinely, lips pulling back as you rise to greet her from across the table, hand evidently on your growing bump as you bow your head. "I've heard much of your conquests in the Vale. Tell me, how did you deal with those savages from the forests?"

You can see the tick in her jaw as she bows towards you, forced too by your position on the hierarchy and the keen eyes of the other guests here tonight.

"With a steady hand and decisive mind, princess."

You laugh, a true sort of thing as you look back to your husband, he huffs out a breath at that. He knows what you're doing, and he's keen on helping play this falsity of niceties.

"Husband," Rhea says suddenly, it's harsh and possessive as she watches you hold your husbands hand. "It has been a long few years, has it not? I missed your letters so."

She looks like a scorned wife -she is, but she cannot act upon it in the presence of her King, your father. Your smile falters as your fingers tighten around Daemon's scarred ones.

"Husband? You're not married anymore." You withhold any of the ill will you feel for her as her lip curls.

"Oh, my princess. But we are. The King hasn't annulled Prince Daemon and I's marriage. He is rightfully wed to me."

The hand you had on Daemon is swiftly pulled from his grasp, the hand you had on your stomach is twitching as you glare her down, you stand taller than her both figuratively and literally.

"Lady Royce, I would be mindful of your tone. Speaking to the Crown Princess with such speech could find your lands without a Lord." You all but laugh, you can feel the mirth that Daemon holds for her and it only doubles your hatred for this insolent petulant woman.

"I only speak the truth, princess."

"Was there not a rumour that your marriage was not consummated?"

Your grandsire snaps into action at that, a bit off call of your name as you bristle at his intrusion on your conversation. "Father. It's true is it not? There was never proof that Daemon bedded her, her womb is barren and I find that mine is not the same. Would you call me a liar and fraud when she couldn't even produce an heir?"

"You have embarrassed me! I've been dishonoured and cast aside after how many years or marriage? My own husband will not speak while his mistress dares to speak on his behalf. What have you to say, husband?"

You stand with a hand over your stomach and a lip curled up in disgust at the woman stood before you with a flushed face. If this is how your father thought he would turn you against Daemon, he was deftly wrong as he often is.

"You dishonour my wife by simply being here, Rhea." Oh and how the brown haired woman seems to crumble at that. Daemon had always been a man of few words, but he made each one count all the same.

“I dishonour your wife? She is nothing but a platinum haired husband stealing whore!”

The Bronze Bitch all but snarls and picks up a plate of tarts to throw in your direction but Daemon is swift in his movements. Standing before you and taking the metal dish to his chest without thought.

The plate clatters onto the stone floor with such a loud reverberation that Rhea seems to snap out of her rage as she realises that she had indeed just insulted a royal family member, and that she may not leave this Great Hall with her life.

There's a telltale sign as a sword is unsheathed and the whoosh of a blade through air. And then deathly silence as the entire hall settles into silence, as the body of the woman steps once backwards before it crumples and her neck hinges, a spray of blood decorating the table before you as Rhea Royce becomes but a corpse for the Silent Sisters to prepare for burial.

Grandsire stands from his chair in a swift move, shouting at Daemon for such insolence and killing a guest of the King.

Daemon ignores his brother in favour of wiping the blood from Dark Sister and stares out at the full hall. "Insult to the Crown Princess is punishable by death, you will all do well to remember it as such."

Rhaenyra is tensed in her seat and your father yells at him, something pertaining to another banishment and you are left to stand in awe of the gruesome acts your uncle is willing to commit in your honour.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x fem!reader #daemon targaryen x you #targaryen incest #targaryen!reader #daemon is a baddie #trust guys #daemon targaryen x niece!reader #possibly innacurate valyrian wedding

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kaerumi · 1 year ago

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Hello dear, I was wondering if you can do some yandere for the very infamous OP men shanks, mihawk,ace,and sabo with normal y/n who's younger than them in separate senariors..

Y/N traits : innocent, sweetheart, warm personality, enchanted beauty with extremely cutie pie face and amazing warm and calm voice that melts the snow from its sweetness it's make anyone feel at ease only by hearing it , it's one of the most reasons why those men had gone insane over her ,why they want to possess her at any cost .

TY and have a good day ☺️.

TW/CW: Yandere, Age gap is up to 3 years, obsession, implied murder, implied poisoning, mention of murder & arson, manipulation (for Sabo)

Notes: I'll be honest I have no clue how to do an innocent reader. And it's gonna be GN Sorry I don't particularly do Female readers Also sorry for not writing in so long :^

Shanks

Shanks was a popular Model, he can flirt with anyone without hesitation.

Then there was you, you weren't popular at all. When he saw you he felt the urge to just... Take you.

He felt jealous of the guys around you that soaked in your attention, in your voice and innocence and especially your beauty.

He just needed it. Needed you.

Eventually he started obsessing over you trying to find every photo there was of you, eventually it got worse

Just hope for both your innocence and sanity you don't meet him.

Until you did.

And suddenly you started to notice people around you get killed, you somehow trusted the red bloody haired man with your safety.

"You'll be fine I'm here after all! All you need is me sweetheart."

After all what did you know?

You're innocent after all

And that's what made Shanks' job of getting you to be his more easier.

Mihawk

Mihawk was a famous swordsman and you were always interested in swords so naturally you took interest in Mihawk.

Unfortunately he took a interest in you as well.

You ended always staying behind the classes because of how much trouble you had with sword, you'd have small conversations with Mihawk.

Slowly Mihawk started to know everything about you and wrote of it down in a notebook that was always locked in a case.

When someone annoyed you too much or confessed to you they suddenly would fall ill and be unable to attend.

Due to Mihawk naturally being cold people didn't notice anything different about him and you didn't know better.

Though you slowly started to blame yourself because people around you would get ill and naturally they ended up dying to the illness.

"My dear... It's not your fault, they naturally fell ill. It is not your fault and anyone who is saying such things is a horrible person who is just jealous. It is unfortunate they fell ill yes but there was nothing you could do. My dear..."

You never knew why they fell ill, and you may never know.

Maybe it's better if you never did anyways.

Ace

Ace was Ace, he's a popular play boy in the town but all he did was flirt and play with hearts.

That was before you came along.

He knew he needed you once first meeting your eyes.

You were most certainly more cuter than anyone else's hearts he's played with.

He wasn't gonna break your heart, no. He could never, he was gonna make sure he was the only one in your heart not matter what he had to do.

He would do whatever you wanted to do or needed.

He'd gladly kill with no hesitation.

Want him to stab that guy who catcalled you? Done.

Want him to burn down a place that has bad memories? Done before you could mention it.

No one went near Ace when the missing people news started getting known, knowing how cold he got when it came to that, they tried to warn you how cold he could be.

You always laugh it off and hang out with him anyways.

He'd act like nothing was happening.

Why read the news when you already know it before anyone else?

You wake up from your nap when you started hearing the news "Mmmh?" Ace turns off the Tv "Don't worry about it my love just go back to sleep."

Sabo

Sabo was the second in command of a powerful business.

Once you joined everything changed.

However unlike the other three Sabo wouldn't kill, no. Sabo wouldn't want his hand or gloves dirty and blood stains too.

Sabo would figure out your favorite things to do and food and everything and give it all to you.

He'd spoil you with everything you'd ever wanted.

He'd help you with a lot of things

He sublely manipulates you into being dependent on him and him alone.

No one would dare go near you if they cared for their job or reputation.

No one went near Sabo either, Sabo didn't mind this, it just meant he could give all his attention to you.

He tested it once day by hiding on purpose.

When you realized Sabo wasn't there you got really nervous and got a bit upset, until Sabo popped

up and helped you again which you immediately calmed down when he did.

Sabo smiled at you, he was glad that his plan was working and working well.

"Please don't leave me alone..." "I promise I won't ever again my angel..." "Thank you Sabo." "Anything for you. My sweet Angel."

#one piece x reader #sabo x reader #one piece yandere #op sabo #one piece #portgas d ace x reader #ace x reader #shanks x reader #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #shanks #portgas d ace #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere one piece #Kaerumi's writing

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rakurairagnarok · 11 months ago

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I dedicate this story to my good friend and writing buddy @idesofrevolution. Merry Christmas buddy and please PLEASE Enjoy. Happy holidays to everyone and Happy TF's.

A Green Christmas

`What!!`

Ryan screamed at the news.

You sighed.

´I have no choice, my family has to move, and I have to go as well, I don´t have any accommodation here.´

Ryan grumbled. `Bro... you can´t leave me man... you´re my best bud.´

You grimaced. Your friend had been acting weird lately. You used to be super close, and you honestly still are, but your interests had began to shift. You used to play games, watch cartoons and study together, but lately Ryan had become absent from you life. He had been ´busy´ with other things but his grades had been plummeting and he had picked up smoking. Ryan had no idea you knew this, but you had seen the pictures from your classmates. His wardrobe had changed too. Before he would wear shirts and khakis, now its oversized shirts and hoodies. He started wearing contacts as well, which, to be honest, was a great look for him, he looked very handsome without glasses. His lingo had switched as well. No more academic jargon. Just simple sentences, which almost always had at least one bro in them.

`Look Ryan, I really am sorry, but I just can´t make this work´

Your family was moving, and while you were a college student, who by all accounts should have received some form of scholarship due to your amazing grades, you never did. The truth however, was that you wanted to move. The alienating feeling you got from your former best friend broke something in you, and you had to put some distance between eachother. You could easily apply for the on-campus dormitories but you just couldn`t bear staying near the now almost stranger.

`Look you´d better go, I want to be home before Christmas and I still have a lot of packing to do.'

Ryan sighed and left. After closing the door behind him, You let out a grunt.

"Why does it have to be this way! What happend to him?"

Reluctantly you began packing. Your father would come and get you and your things on Christmas eve, so you had your work cut out for you. You were currently staying Ryan, but this had always been a temporary solution. Ryan's landlord didn't want two friends staying together only couples or families. Ryan had become quite open to you about his sexuality. He had told you he was bisexual and that he could always tell the landlord the two of you were dating, but you had declined. You had a hard enough time not getting picked on. If word would get out that you two were dating, you would not be able to survive. What Ryan didn't know is that you were in fact also bisexual. You really liked girls but men really were where you got your satisfaction. From porn that is, because you were still a virgin. You grew up in a strict Christian household, with a Father from the south. Your parents would never approve and they were the reason you didn't have to work, so coming out was never an option.

A loud knock shook you from your deep train of thought. You opened the door and Ryan was standing right there, smiling.

"Steven, can we talk bro?"

"Ryan, I told you. I need to pack for..."

"Please, just for a little while."

"...Fine..."

Ryan walked in and sat down on your bed.

"Look man... I've been thinking... I need to be honest with you about something."

You looked at your former best friend with confusion. He had been so dominant and confident these last few weeks, and all of a sudden he looked shy and insecure.

"I... I picked up smoking... and... not just cigarettes. Weed too"

You sighed.

"I know Ryan, I have seen you. Don't worry, it's whatever... Your body, your choice."

Ryan smiled.

"Yeah for reallll broo but, I wanted to ask you a favor."

"What is it?" You asked, slightly impatient.

"Come sit down first" Ryan had this shit eating grin on his face, his perfect white teeth on display. Wait that doesn't sound right. he had braces right?

Because you took so long, Ryan grabbed your arm and pulled you onto the bed, right next to him.

"What the hell man!" You exclaimed.

He quickly wraps an arm around your shoulders, his musky scent drilling into your nose, and holds something up to your face.

"I really, really want to smoke this with you man. Like dying wish and shit."

You look down and see a blunt in between his fingers.

"I don't smoke Ryan, you know this" You point out.

" Just one hit bro, that's all, I won't tell anyone, you don't have to smoke any more, just humor me with this man."

You took a deep breath and wanted to decline, but then something clicked.

"You know what. Sure."

Ryan's grin widened. 'Let's fucking go bro!!!" He quickly grabbed a lighter, and lit the blunt.

He took the first hit, blowing the smoke right into your face, the fumes invading your nose and throat, leaving you gasping for air.

"Sorry there bro, just wanted to give you a little taste."

"I'm only taking one hit bro... fuck" Your eyes widen not only did you just curse, something which you rarely do, you also just used bro in your sentence. Hoping he didn't notice you hold out your hand to take the blunt.

Ryan, who's grinning from ear to ear, hands you the blunt, and you quickly take a hit. You deeply inhale, feeling the smoke fill your lungs and the weed invade your brain. A single hit, and you can almost feel your brain stopping.

"W...whaaat the fuuuuuck" You mumble. Your jaw slacks a bit as the smoke escapes from your lips.

"You gonna take that hit or not bro?" Ryan asked with a sly grin on his face.

"Huh didn't I just?'' You asked confused.

"Bro are you already tripping? I just blew some smoke in your face man, thats all. Now come on bro, you promised."

You took a hit, taking a deep breath, feeling the smoke fill your lungs, and your whole body. Slowly blowing out you feel constricted. You look down to see your buttoned up shirt bulging. You tug on it a bit, and it flies open, revealing a chiseled abdomen and two meaty pecs.

"Brooo wat the fahk' You mumble. "My chest is so big... what the hell"

"Yeah bro I know right. I love that strain. Made me who I am today" Ryan smirks as he takes off his hoodie showing his massive arms and chest.

You look in awe as he stretches a bit, his smooth torso , and bulging muscles on display. He drops his sweats, showing off a massive bulge in his white briefs as he looks at you and smirks.

"Wanna take another hit bro?"

Before he even finished his sentence the blunt was back in your mouth, filling you up with even more smoke. You look down and begin to giggle as you bounce your growing pecs.

"Huhuhu broo they are so bigg... what the shit..." You say as a familiar musk begins radiating from your growing body.

Ryan smiles back.

"Yeah bro you're getting so fuckin huge. You're so hot"

You look at him with a flushed face.

"What... did you say?"

"You're hot. You look amazing."

"Thanks..." You can't help but blush, seeing as he himself is a fucking model.

"You're really hot yourself" You say with a beetred face

Ryan stops smiling and looks at you. He sits down and looks you in the eyes.

"I don't want you to go Stevey. I love you..."

Your eyes widen at the words, and before you know it, his lips get pressed against yours. Before you can react he pushes his tongue into your mouth, and a torrent of smoke follows suit. It's almost as if hes blowing you up, and it feels that way too, Your muscles getting bigger, your mind hazier, and your dick... well...

You manage to push away and look at him.

"Ry... I ... "

"yeah?"

"I think... no ... I know... I love you too man"

Ryan signature shit eating grin flies back onto his face.

"Fuck yeah bro!!"

A sheepish smile creeps onto your face as you grab the blunt from his fingers, taking a massive hit before grabbing his neck and blowing the smoke into his mouth.

"You're so sexy." You say as he blows the smoke back into your face.

"What about you then, such a fucking cute stud you are"

The two of you continue laughing, finishing the blunt before crawling into each others arms.

You text your dad that he doesn't have to come get you anymore, as you will be staying with your boyfriend, and promptly block him afterwards.

You nuzzled up to your boyfriends pit and took a deep breath. It smelled amazing and it bricked you up knowing you smell the same.

This will be a pretty special Christmas.

__________________________________________________________

Happy Holidays Everyone!!!! Feel free to send in some asks or order something at Rakurai Inc.!!!

#transformation #male muscle growth #rakurai #gay tf #male transformation #dumbing down #blunt #stoner #gift #bisexual #coming out #musk

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bri-cheeses · 6 months ago

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Jerseys vs. Hoodies - Part 5

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 971 | Part 4 is here |

Evan breathes in deeply. “Bee…” he says slowly, “I should probably tell you something first.”

Barty looks confused at the shift in tone, but he sits up straighter in order to listen anyways.

“Okay,” he says, and Evan’s never been more terrified in his life.

His next words come out shaky. “We’ll always be friends, right? No matter what happens?”

Barty frowns. “Of course. But Evs, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”

His concern is enough to cause Evan to close his eyes as if he can block out all the bad by the performing the simple gesture. But when he opens them again, the fear and apprehension is still there.

“No,” he says, and it’s the most truthful thing he’s said in a while. “Bee, d’you know when you came to me that first night, and you kissed me, and I kissed you back without hesitation? Do you remember that?”

“…yeah?” Barty says slowly.

“Do you ever wonder why I didn’t question it, never even took a second to ask you why you were doing it?”

He doesn’t give Barty a chance to answer, staring at the table instead of looking at Barty as he continues, “It was because I didn’t want you to stop. I just wanted you to keep kissing me, no matter the cost, no matter your reasons behind it. For that minute I let myself enjoy kissing you, the feeling of having you kiss me, because I had wanted it for so long. And yeah, it hurt afterwards when you said that it didn’t mean anything. But I said “fine” and “okay” because that’s more than I ever thought I would get from you, and I was thankful for that tiny little scrap even if it “didn’t mean anything.” And then you came back, and again I took the scraps. And again, and again, until we had this little arrangement and I wasn’t worried anymore that every time we ever did something, it would be the last time.”

Tears are starting to blur his vision, and he refuses to look over at Barty, who remains silent.

He chokes out the next sentence. “But it hurt every time you reminded me it meant nothing, until eventually I couldn’t keep all of this to myself. So I told Pandora about it. And that helped a little, but soon after Reg started to get suspicious and confronted me about it, and I was so incredibly tired and I told him just about everything. So yeah, he knows, and yeah, that’s what he meant when he said “everything going on” between us. Which I guess makes it a low blow, but,” he laughs humorlessly, “nothing lower than I’ve been dealing with recently.”

He doesn’t look at Barty. He can’t look at Barty, can’t bear to see his expression as silence fills the space in between them.

“Evan,” Barty says, and that’s when Evan knows it’s going to be bad. Not “Evs” or “Evie” or even “Rosie.” Just “Evan.”

He tries not to let the tears fall, but it’s a struggle as he simultaneously tries to keep Barty from noticing his watery eyes.

“Evan,” Barty says again, “look at me.”

“No.”

“Evs,” Barty pleads.

Evs, Evan thinks. He said “Evs.” Not “Evan.”

So Evan turns towards Barty. He wipes his eyes in an effort to get rid of any traces of his tears, but it’s evident that he didn’t do a good enough job as Barty’s face softens as soon as he takes him in.

“I’m so sorry, Evie,” Barty says, reaching out a hand and pulling Evan into his chest.

It’s a nice gesture, so sweet that Evan can’t stop himself from collapsing into Barty, despite the fact that he knows Barty’s just trying to soften the blow that’s bound to come.

Here comes the rejection, Evan thinks, but still clutches on all the tighter to Barty’s sweatshirt. Maybe if he can hold on tight enough, Barty won’t go.

“I’m so, so sorry I made you feel that way,” Barty whispers, and his hand makes its way to Evan’s head and winds into his hair. Evan closes his eyes tightly, wanting to stay here in this moment before everything comes crashing down around him.

“I never meant to do that to you,” Barty continues. “That was never my intention at all.”

He pauses, as if contemplating whether or not to say something.

“Do you know why I kissed you in the first place?” he asks. Unlike Evan, he waits for a response.

“No,” Evan mumbles against Barty’s torso.

“Well, I don’t know if you remember, but I was slightly tipsy.”

Evan remembers. Of course he does.

“I saw you sitting there on your bed, and thought, “Merlin, he’s so beautiful.” And you wanna know something? It wasn’t the first time that I had had that thought. Not even close. I just hadn’t acted on it, because… well, you’re my best friend, and I didn’t want to mess that up. But I guess the alcohol had gone straight to my brain, because I couldn’t stop myself from walking up to you and simply kissing you.”

“And I’m not proud of what I did afterwards, when I finally started thinking clearly again and panicked about you hating me because of what I had done. I told you that it didn’t have to mean anything. And if I could somehow go back in time and take that back, I’d do it in a heartbeat, consequences be damned. Because I really had wanted it to mean something. I still want it to mean something. I just didn’t think that you would want the same thing, so I never said anything.”

“But,” he says softly, his hand sliding out of Evan’s hair to cup his face and turn his gaze upward, “I’m saying something now.”

(The sixth and final part will come out sometime this week) (Hopefully)

#i hate finals #it makes it so hard to do anything other than study #but somehow i’m still cranking out rosekiller because that’s just how my brain works i guess #rosekiller #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #slytherin skittles #marauders #rosekiller microfic #my microfics

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mustainegf · 3 months ago

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Thoughts about reader celebrating new years eve with the band, and james confesses and they share readers first kiss together?

This is so fucking adorable, i tweaked a few things so I hope it lives up to your expectations!!

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 ¹⁹⁸⁵

It's New Year's Eve, and I find myself sitting on the front porch with James. The night is a bit chilly around the edges, but his warmth makes me warm. I've got one of James' leather coats on, which he insisted I wear because of the cold.

Kirk, Lars, and Cliff are out partying, but I was feeling sick earlier tonight, so I stayed back. To my surprise, James decided to stay back with me, not wanting me to be alone on New Year's.

"Do you ever get tired of all the noise?" I ask, looking over at James. He takes a sip of his drink, his eyes thoughtful.

"Sometimes," he admits. "But I think it's more about who you're with than what you're doing." he shrugs lazily as he looks out into the dark street.

I smile at this, feeling the sudden flapping of butterflies inside my chest. "Thanks for staying with me."

"Hey, someone's gotta make sure you're not alone to ring in the New Year," he says, flashing me that charming horse grin that always makes my heart miss a beat.

The city festivities feel so far away, it's like another world. Here, we are together, and that's it.

I feel the calm before midnight, its almost 1985. Surely enough, there's a sense of excitement, despite James and I's sweet silence. James leans back, looking up at the sky.

"You know," he says, his voice soft, "I've always liked fireworks. They're like.a burst of magic into the sky... My mom used to bring me and my sister to this little field, back in Downey. And we'd watch the fireworks." James fondly recalls the memory, looking into the stars.

I look at him, touched by his words. "That's sweet, how old were you?"

He thinks back, his face drooping a bit as he thought. "She first took us when I was 10, we did it every year until... you know, Mom was gone..." He mumbles, a bittersweet look on his face. The face of acceptance.

I scoot close to him, leaning my head on his shoulder. He'd gone through so much, surely more than he deserved. He was strong, and that was one of the things that made me love him. "I'm sorry, James."

A first firework suddenly bursts into the sky, a brilliant, colorful, bright illumination. We both look up to the display. More fireworks follow, bursting the night sky with glowing and shimmering trails. The year is born anew.

"They're beautiful," I whisper in surprise.

"Yeah," agrees James as he gazes toward the sky. "Really beautiful."

Another firework goes off, lighting up his face in a soft, yellow colored glow. He turns to me, his eyes sweeter than I'd ever seen.

"You know, it's tradition to have a new year's kiss," he says, his voice a little awkward but entirely sweet.

I can't help but smile. "Is it now?"

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, it is. Thought we should, you know, follow tradition."

We both laugh, and the awkwardness snaps away in a second. There's a hesitation, then a space, which I diminish. The lips meet, and it feels like the world falls away. Overhead, the fireworks keep bursting, but the only pressure I feel is that of James's lips warm and soft on mine.

Finally, when we pull back, we're both giggling. My forehead leans against his. "That was..."

"Yeah," James agrees, his voice breathless. "That was."

We just look at each other now. The idea of what exactly just happened seems to settle into our chilly skin. "James," I begin softly, "I... I think I've loved you for a really long time."

His eyes widen a moment before his lips stretch into a very real, honest smile, making my heart swell. "You know what I think?"

"What do you think?" I laugh, cupping his cheek as the fireworks continue to burst above us and momentarily light our faces.

He kisses me again, this time a little deeper, his hands gently cradling my face. When we finally break apart, both of us are grinning like idiots.

"That I love you. That's what I think."

"Happy New Year," he whispers against my lips, his voice warmed with love.

"Happy New Year, James."

#mustainegf #fanfic #reqs open #fanfiction #request #metallica #metallica x reader #metallica fanfiction #metallica fluff #james hetfield x you #james hetfield x oc #james hetfield fluff #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield imagines #james hetfield fic #james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield #metallica oneshot #metallica imagines

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artstatues · 5 months ago

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New year's kiss. - g.h × reader.

wc : 927 pairings : grayson hawthorne x gigi grayson's best friend fem! reader, from the inheritance games. synopsis : its new years eve. you and your best friend, gigi, decided to go to a party, but she brought a special someone to watch over the both of you. warnings : swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of getting drunk, kissing. a/n : atp im gonna give up and always get second hand embarrassment when i have to write x readers ahjhd hjhfsk also this is not rly proofread so !! taglist : @lxvebelle, @urbanflorals, @reyna-obsessed, @reminiscentreader, @never-enough-novels, @kozumesphone, @shuhuaspookie, @off-to-the-r4ces.

“Oh, hi-” You awkwardly greeted as you got in the backseat of the car, not expecting your best friend’s brother to come. “I thought we’d need someone to watch us, I mean, it’s new years eve after all!” Gigi grinned. “Didn’t you say he hated parties?” You raised an eyebrow towards Gigi. It’s true, Gigi told you about the one time she dragged her brother to a party, only for him to frown from beginning to end. You’ve also never seen him in shorts. The Grayson Hawthorne you knew would always be in a suit. The multiple times you’ve seen him, he wouldn’t be without a suit. Tonight, he was wearing a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up, and a pair of beige shorts to go with it. You couldn’t help but smile at him. “Stop looking at my brother like that-!” Gigi scolded you, brows furrowed like you had just murdered someone. “I wasn’t-” You argued back, trying to keep your cool. Grayson glanced at you through the rear view mirror. “Also, did you hear?” Gigi abruptly yet frivolously asked you before she went on about something someone did, which you weren’t really paying attention to.

“Really?” You changed your facial expression to make it seem like you were shocked. “Yes! I know, right! Isn’t it crazy?” Gigi exclaimed, actually shocking you this time. “We’re here.” Grayson grumbled as the car stopped. “Hell yeah!” Gigi screamed right when she entered the party. It was only 10.57 pm, and you had no clue how you were going to survive another hour with a probably drunk Gigi Grayson and her moody as hell brother. You eyed Grayson from across the room, arms crossed, holding a drink and definitely holding up that poker face. You couldn’t help but notice his hips, swaying little by little to the beat. Another smile crept up your face before Gigi noticed, again. “That’s it! We’re going to the backyard- I can’t have you staring at my brother all night long.” Gigi dragged your hand, forcing you to tear your gaze. Gigi stumbled on the way out, instantly sharpening your concern for her, “How many drinks have you had?” You asked her, like a mother scolding her child. “Like- 2? Maybe, can’t really keep count-” She giggled. You only swore beneath your breath. Sooner or later, after the both of you left the indoor area for the backyard, Grayson followed, eyes still on the both of you. It felt like he was babysitting the both of you now. Gigi was dancing to the music, so you made your way inside to get yourself a drink, but as fate would have it, you bumped into Grayson. Of course.

“Sorry, hi.” You awkwardly mumbled, before greeting him. He gave you one of those fake smiles, those smiles everyone could see through. “Hello.” He replied. “Just a fair warning, Gigi’s a bit drunk, wait– no, she’s wasted- Can you keep an eye on her really quick?” You stumbled over your words before heading inside, rather quickly. You heard the faintest chuckle over the blasting music. You poured yourself a cup of whatever they had, it didn’t really matter right now. 11.49 pm. It’s been 52 minutes since you arrived. A few minutes since you talked to Grayson. Your feet were starting to hurt at this point. You took a quick breath before heading outside, again. Gigi was still dancing, gone, wasted, drunk. Grayson was on a sofa, drink still in his hands, eyes on Gigi. Something about the alcohol that made you think it’d be a great decision to sit next to him. “Oh- Hello, again,” He smiled, quite genuinely, you thought. “Hi, hey” You slightly slurred. He didn’t say anything for a while, only observing Gigi, like the very protective brother he is. “Do you think she got herself a new year’s kiss?” You joked. “I actually don’t know.” Grayson tilted his head. “Funny to think so, though” He smiled. “Did you get yourself one?” You inquired, wondering what the hell you actually poured yourself, because whatever it was, it was surely trying to screw you over. “Hm. No, I don’t think so.” Grayson replied, tone flat, but his eyes were fixated on yours. Like your eyes were a spectacle at a museum, that’s how he was staring at you. Shit shit shit. “Did you?” He asked without even blinking. Oh fuck. Your face was definitely a shade of red now. “No.” You whispered, looking down to check your watch. 11. 55 pm. Perfect timing. People soon started to come out, fireworks were being prepared. You quickly chugged the rest of your drink before setting the cup down on the small glass table in front of the couch. “Be my new year’s kiss then?” Grayson finally spoke, breaking the silence, well- not exact silence, since people were cheering, getting with their loved ones, and at this point, you couldn’t care less for what and who Gigi was doing. You got up, dragging him with you. Who knew alcohol could do this much to you. A smirk crept up your face, while your arms found their way around his neck, while his snaked around your waist. “5, 4, 3, 2– 1!” People around you counted down, but their voices faded as Grayson leaned down to kiss you. It was delicate, soft, gentle. It felt like you’ve just kissed a feather. You got on your tiptoes to kiss him back, before finally pulling away to a familiar shriek. Gigi. Shit. “Well, Happy New Year’s, love.”

#the inheritance games #the hawthorne legacy #the final gambit #the brothers hawthorne #the grandest game #tig #thl #tfg #tbh #tgg #grayson hawthorne #grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson hawthorne x you #writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr

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fushigur0ll · 1 year ago

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Ok now here me out… you know how that old people filter is going around on TikTok? I think it would be so cute if 42!Miles and you do it and he gets kinda emotional at the thought of growing old with the reader, and also he kinda looks like his dad so it’s a harder blow.

Idk I think it would be cute and kinda sappy cause I love seeing those couples on TikTok try it and be like “that’s how we’ll look when we’re grandparents.” AHHH😭♥️

i’m gonna make this as sentimental as possible</3 thanks for the request boobie snoobie

NOW? LIKE NOW NOW?

꒰ ♡ ꒱ you try out that filter you see everyone doing on tiktok and you show miles and his reaction shocks you

includes ; fluff, kisses, tears and sadness but it’s happy tears and sadness oh and use of the n word! not proof read, finished this long one half asleep, n may be a a tiny bit ooc but..IDGAF this is cute💔

"Why do you always leave a nigga hanging outside your window for so long, baby?" Your boyfriend frowned as his gaze fixated on you, while you kept your eyes glued to your phone, even as you opened the window for him.

"I'm sorry, I was using the bathroom," you replied, finally looking up at him with a smile that made him smile back at you. you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your heart as he leaned down to give you two soft kisses on your lips before fully entering your room

Your room was chilly and cozy, with a gentle breeze flowing in from the now-open window, giving your boyfriend goosebumps that raised the hairs on his forearms. As he looked around, he noticed the soft glow of the low orange and purple LED lights, illuminating the room like a beautiful sunset over Brooklyn. He closed the window behind him, but the cool air remained, just the way you liked it.

"Why are you so glued to your phone?" he asked as he took off his shoes and jacket by your desk. You were sitting on your bed, scrolling through videos on your phone, not looking up from the screen.

"I saw this trend on TikTok, and now I can't stop watching it," you replied, still engrossed in your phone. He hummed and headed to the washroom to freshen up and change into his own clothes that he kept at your place.

After a few minutes, he emerged from the washroom, wearing a black t-shirt, gray sweatpants, and a silver necklace adorning his neck. He saw you in a different position, lying down on the bed with your phone a few inches away, as if you were recording a video.

He walked towards you and sat by your side, watching your face closely. He stared at you without saying anything, and you could sense his intense gaze on you, making you glance up at him with a curious expression.

"What's wrong?" you asked, and he just shook his head and leaned down to kiss you once again.

"nun...you're just beautiful," he whispered, laying his forehead on yours, and you smiled, cupping his left cheek softly.

"And you're even more beautifuler pookie butt," you teased, biting his nose playfully when his face drops. "So weird," you chuckled and shoved your phone to his face, making him widen his eyes for a moment before focusing on the screen.

"What is this, baby?"

"its a filter. this is the trend i found. You just press it, and it shows you how you would look when you're older," you explained, sitting up and making him do the same. You pressed the filter and applied it to your faces. The top half of the screen showed your current selves, while the bottom half showed an older version of you both, which made his breathing stop.

As miles stared at the screen, a wave of emotions washed over him. The longer he gazed at the older version of himself, the more it began to resemble his father. He blinked and opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but nothing came out. He continued to blink, feeling the burn of his eyes that he didn't want to experience at the moment. He took a deep breath in, trying to steady himself.

As he looked at your old face, his feelings washed over him like a wave once again. He found you so beautiful, even with a few aging lines and wrinkles on your skin. He stared a bit longer as his train of thoughts went throughout his brain.

Miles didn't just love you, he was in love with you. He always had been. Ever since you both were in the same class together two years ago, and last year you both got together, making it almost two years. He never understood how someone could love him this much. No matter how hard or how high of a wall he built around himself, you managed to climb it or even break it down. He wasn't complaining, but if he knew loving you would be like this, he wouldn't have put up the wall in the first place.

He still remembered the days when you would try to strike up a conversation with him, and he would always be so cold, just to get the point across that he needed to be left alone. But it didn't come through your big ass head. He chuckled to himself, remembering how much he loved— and still loves making fun of your forehead being so big.

He always remembered the times he would find himself staring at you in class when you would sit beside him during the quiet period, just writing notes and doodling cute hearts and faces on his paper. He pretended to be annoyed about it, but secretly loved it. And he wouldn't tell you, but he still had those doodles you used to do in his desk.

Another thing he remembered was when you agreed to being his girlfriend and you both found yourselves at a park, on the playground. You lay in his chest as you both lay on the slide, cuddling close to each other while just looking up at the pretty stars that twinkled and glistened in the night sky. He remembered a story you read with him a few days prior about how the sun loved the moon so much he died every night to let her breathe. He referred to himself as the sun and you to the moon. He would sacrifice himself as long as you got to live a better life. Someone who came into his life just to break down his walls and love and cherish him this much shouldn't have him thinking about the day he wants to marry you, but he finds himself doing just that anyways.

He wonders how you will react when, after you both are done with school, getting a bit older and thinking about moving out of your parents' houses, you consider moving in together. Maybe even getting a pet. He knows you love kittens, and he's seen how you cry happy tears of awe when you see a baby kitty cat. He would make fun of you, and then you would start crying more and more. To cheer you up, he would just start kissing and tickling you, which always 100% of the time works.

Oh, how he loves you so much it brings tears to his eyes. Literally.

You had already put down the camera long ago when you saw Miles lost in thought. But you immediately become concerned and worried when a tear falls down his cheek, even though his face remains blank. You frown and cup his cheeks to direct his face towards yours. You kiss his nose, cheeks, and finally his lips ever so softly, hoping to bring him back to the present moment.

You whisper Miles' name, your voice soft and gentle, not wanting to startle him too harshly out of his train of thought. He blinks once, and another tear rolls down his cheek, and you move your thumb to gently rub it away, your heart aching at the sight of his tears.

"You're crying," you say softly, and Miles inhales softly, exhaling and leaning into your hands with his eyes closing.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, his lips pressing against the palm of your hand. He opens his eyes once more, staring into your beautiful eyes.

"There's no need to apologize, baby. I'm just worried," you respond, your voice equally soft as before. Your words make more tears well up in his eyes, but he holds them in.

As he hums softly, the sound vibrates through his chest and sends a shiver down your spine. he squeezes your thigh once then makes his way up the bed to rest his back against your headboard. As you crawl up the bed towards him, you take in the sight of his broad shoulders and muscular arms. you lay back into his chest, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

he wraps his arms around your waist, you feel his strong hands on your skin, kneading and rubbing your soft flesh of your thigh once more. You feel his warm breath on your neck as he leans down to rest his head against you, and he can't help but smile as he recognizes the familiar scent of vanilla and cocoa butter.

As he kisses your bare shoulder, you feel the softness of his lips against your skin, you tilt your head to the side, giving him more access to nuzzle his head into your neck and exhaling softly.

he starts to speak, his voice is a deep rumble in your ear, and vibrations of his chest against your back.

"I was just thinking about something... I never saw so much of my dad in me until now, and that's just very... very scary. I don't like to have him on my mind so much because then I'll just fall into this depressive state, but... I just really, really miss him," Miles trails off

You smile sadly, your heart breaking at the sound of Miles' pain. You tilt your head back to press your lips against his chin, your hand coming up to hold the side of his face so you can bring his face down for your lips to touch his own, conveying all the love and comfort you can offer.

you always loved kissing miles. both of your love languages was just physical affection, him more then you from what he says because

‘you can’t love me more then i love you’

"It's okay to think about your dad once in a while, Miles. That's what keeps his memory alive, right? He's always with you, around this house, outside, and in your heart, baby. Don't ever forget that," you say, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart beats strong and steady. As you speak, the room is filled with a sense of calm with Miles listens intently, his eyes watching you as he takes in every word, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

When you finish speaking, Miles frowns, feeling more tears start to line up in his eyes. He groans and covers his eyes with his arm, feeling overwhelmed by his emotions. You can't help but giggle softly at his reaction, finding it endearing.

Turning around, you straddle him just sitting on-top of his thighs. your fingers tracing small circles on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your touch.

"Look at me," you say, poking his chest playfully. He swats your hand away, giving you a playful glare as he peeks out from under his arm. He sighs and puts it down, his callused hands landing on your thighs.

You feel a the warmth of his hands "Why did you cover your face?" you ask, pinching his cheeks playfully. He gives you a warning glare, but the smile on his face betrays his true feelings. He shakes his head at your antics and starts rubbing your skin slowly up and down.

"...I wanna get married," Miles says suddenly

You freeze, staring at him like he's lost his head. The room falls silent, the only sound that’s there is your breathing and the beating of your hearts. You get curious and comfortable, leaning closer to hear his explanation.

‘now?..like..now now?’ you couldn’t help but think. ‘im not even looking good or ready.. but where’s the ring—‘ your thoughts was cut off by miles snickering underneath you.

“not right now ma, i meant later on in the future” he explains and you nod, understanding way.

"Miles, what are you talking about?" you ask softly, your eyes locking with his. he twists his lips to the side before speaking once more

"I want to marry you," he whispers, You gaze up at him, taking in the way his eyes only look at you.

"You do?" you ask softly, your heart pounding in your chest. All he does is nod his head in response, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. You feel a rush of happiness wash over you.

"I want to grow old with you," he continues, his voice steady and sincere. "As corny as that shit sounds, it's true." You can't help but smile at his words, feeling your heart swell with love for him.

"Me seeing us old gave me some sad thoughts," he admits, his expression softening. "But it gave me some hopeful ones too." You listen intently as he speaks, hanging on his every word. You love when he opens up to you like this, sharing his innermost thoughts and feelings with you.

from the time you knew miles, he used to have a hard time expressing himself. He would often be closed off, keeping his emotions bottled up inside. But over time, he's grown more comfortable with sharing his feelings, especially with you. It makes you feel special, knowing that he trusts you enough to be vulnerable with you.

“those hopeful thoughts, most of them, was how i wanted to make you my wife…even though you already are” he winks and squeezes your thigh playfully making you huff and show a small smile. “but for real though, you show me so much love that i never thought you’d do in the first place for me. you’re my first girlfriend and i want you to be my last.” he confesses “i wanna see your old ass make some peach cobbler in the kitchen one day when we have kids and our kids have they kids and you be in there talking about some ‘you ain’t ate all day baby?’ “ you burst into laughter at his attempt to try and sound like a old momma with a raspy voice.

he chuckles and moves his hands to your waist. “but before that, i wanna see you walk down that isle with the dress of your dreams and a pretty smile on that pretty face to get your ring i’ll put on you that’ll make you mine till i’m no longer on this earth”

you couldn’t help but feel yourself about to cry, it was your turn now to groan and shove your face into his chest making him laugh at you.

“wanna be me so bad” he mumbles, kissing your temple and hugging you. you sniffle against his shirt, holding onto him tightly. you were so inlove with this man it makes you so soft

As you look at him now, you can't help but feel grateful for him and the deep connection you share with eachother. it’s something you always wanted to have with someone special and it just so that miles is that one special person

the room was quiet and calm. miles looks down at you you starts drawing circles on his chest, even writing his name and your name inside a big imaginary heart. he chuckles and his chest vibrates making you look up at him just to catch his attention directly on you.

“hi” you whisper and he smiles leaning in closer to your face

“hey” you stuff your face into his chest and hug his tighter.

“..yes” you suddenly speak. miles not knowing what you’re saying yes for, starts to rub your shoulder whilst looking at you in confusion

“hm? whatchu saying yes for?” he asks and you look up at him once more.

“i wanna marry you too” i whisper with a sincere look on your face. he stares before he leans in and kisses you passionately, holding the side of your jaw to make the kiss deeper.

you smile against his lips and enjoy the softness of it on yours. you both savoured the kiss, almost losing air from not wanting to let go. you both unlock lips slowly and you just stare into each-others eyes not wanting this moment to end

“cant believe because of you and that damn filter i’m over here cryin” he grumbles and you just laugh, rubbing the back of his neck

“my softy bootie butt” i tease and he pinches your side

“i take everything i said right back—”

“TOO LATEEE~”

#—fushi’snotes #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spider verse #across the spiderverse #x black reader #miles morales #miles morales x reader #earth42 #across the spiderverse x reader #miles morales fluff #earth42 miles #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #atsv x reader #astv x black reader

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angelslittlewritingcorner · 7 months ago

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DESIRE

(Adam x Lute x Reader)

After you gave so much love to the first part of the series, I thought I'd post the second this week. A little more fluff this time, but the next part will be very spicy. Have fun with it.

Tags: @mournings-stars

Synopsis: Y/N just wanted to spend some wholesome time with her lovers but they had other plans.

Part 2 (of 3)

Part 1

Warnings: Language

Y/N straightened her shoulders and opened the bathroom door. "Yes, I'm ready," she said and let her eyes wander over Lute. She was actually wearing the dress she had just bought. It clung perfectly to her curves and Y/N had to avert her eyes. Even if Lute was an angel, she was made for sin. Damn, she was already thinking like Adam. He came up behind Lute and scrutinised Y/N. "Woah damn girls you look really hot" Lute just rolled her eyes and punched Adam lightly in the arm. Y/N also looked at her other lover and couldn't help but grin slightly. "Adam? Is that gel in your hair and you're wearing a jacket?" He just grinned and his nose coloured slightly pink. "So can we then?" Lute asked, a little more annoyed and held out his hand again. Y/N nodded and grabbed her handbag before the three of them left the flat.

Holding Lute's hand felt incredibly good. She looked quite petite, but her grip was firm and firm. Adam walked next to them and talked about a dog he'd seen the other day that had totally dragged its owner through the mud because it had seen another dog. "And then he dragged him all over the park. I really thought the ice cream was going to fall out of my hand I laughed so hard." His two girls just grinned at the story and threw in a few comments here and there. Once Adam started talking, he never stopped. Y/N thinks it's because he was alone for so long after Lilith and Eve left him. You could really feel sorry for him.

When she first met him, she thought he was just a jerk who was self-absorbed and reckless. Just like the high school jocks in the TV series on Earth. But after getting to know him better and seeing behind his façade, she realised that he longed for love and acceptance. Things he would never admit to, of course, but were very obvious when you knew him.

The three of them arrived at the elegant restaurant and quickly took the seats they had ordered. As they were all quite hungry, they immediately began to check out the menu. "Really a fancy place," said Adam and grinned at Lute out of the corner of his eye, "Yeah, you'd never have thought of such an idea, you Dickmaster." He just rolled his eyes and grinned behind the menu. God those two were cute when they weren't out for blood and fighting. Y/N thought about the little surprise she had in her handbag. When would be the best time to give it to them? Before dinner? After? She decided to give them the present while they were waiting for the food.

After a few minutes, a waiter came and took their orders. He also placed a glass of crystal clear fresh water in front of each of them. No matter how many times Y/N saw the food and gifts of heaven, it was still a mystery to her how everything could be so clear and clean. Every colour seemed brighter and more intense. Lute took a sip from her glass and then put it down. "Y/N darling … why are you looking like that? What's bothering you?" "N-Nothing's bothering me I… well" she took a deep breath "It's just that I have something for you both because today is such a special day." None of the three would ever admit to dating in public. What would people think if they knew it was a three-way relationship? Unfortunately, they didn't realise that they were so obvious that everyone already knew. Y/N reached into her handbag and handed her two lovers a small parcel each.

Curious, the two opened it and stared at the contents for a moment. The parcels contained a bracelet for each of them with the initial letters of the three of them. "I made them myself. The band is made of leather and the letters are made of silver." "That's really pretty," said Lute, her eyes taking on a warm glow. She took the bracelet and held it out to Y/N. "Will you make it for me baby?" She nodded and carefully put the bracelet on her. Adam was silent the whole time and just held out his arm. Y/N put the bracelet on him too. She had been wearing her own since she had left. Why didn't Adam say anything? Didn't he like it? Too cheesy? Too feminine? But she didn't dare ask, after all, she had her pride. Luckily, the food arrived and took the decision off her hands.

After the meal, they paid and went back to their flat together. "Kitten" Y/N turned to Adam. "We have a little surprise for you too" She raised an eyebrow curiously and Adam gripped the side of her waist and led her in the direction of the bedroom....

#hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin vaggie #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel charlie #adam #adam x lute x reader #adam x lute #hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin lute #lute x reader #lute #guitarspear

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sacredjake · 10 months ago

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pairing: Josh Kiszka x Reader

word count: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ MDNI!! cussing, alcohol consumption, mentions of weed, smut, praise kink, very slight degradation, spanking, rough sex, overstimulation, hate sex, unprotected sex

welcome to the first of four collabs that @gold-mines-melting and i have planned! we hope yall enjoy this enemies to lovers josh fic that we planned out :)

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“You’re going to Jake’s party tonight, right?”

“Yes, Jenna, of course I’m going to Jake’s party. We talked about this like last week.” You set your phone down on your bathroom counter and pulled out your makeup bag.

“I know that, Y/n, but you also said you considered not going just so you wouldn’t have to deal with Josh.”

She wasn’t wrong. You had said you were debating not going to your mutual friend’s party just because of his twin brother. Jake was one of your closest friends, so of course if he was throwing a shindig you wanted to go, but Josh made it so hard to be around most of the time.

You and Josh had once been close. In fact, at one point a long time ago, you really liked him and you thought he liked you back. However, that hope was quickly stripped away and the feelings you had towards him grew into loathing when he started treating you horribly. He constantly made rude, snarky comments to you and about you, and made sure to really kick you when you were down. And you had no idea why.

“I’m not gonna let Josh ruin a great New Year’s Eve party.” You began applying your foundation as you spoke.

“Good. I gotta start getting ready so I’ll see you later.”

“For sure.” You agreed and let her hang up so you could blend the foundation out. You quickly finished up your festive makeup, and slipped on your sparkly dress and heels.

When you arrived at Jake’s house you were pretty positive that you had been the first, if not the only, to arrive. While there was still an open spot in the driveway you pulled into the spot in front of Jake’s garage. You didn’t bother locking your car and headed straight for the front door. Just as you were walking up the path leading to his house you could hear a car loudly making its way down the road. Out of habit you turned towards the noise to see who it could be.

Of course it had to be Josh. And of course instead of pulling into the open spot next to you he decided to park behind you. Completely blocking you in. Asshole.

“You couldn’t park in the completely open spot next to me?” You nearly shout mostly to be heard as Josh exits his jeep.

“You’re the one that parked in my spot, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry? Your spot?” You can’t help but stare at him completely baffled by his entitlement. You also can’t help but notice how nice he looked. His mullet was curled and fluffed up nicely, and his outfit, an elegant suit over his usual white crewneck, flattered his slender frame very nicely. You mentally scolded yourself for even thinking about it. Josh paid you no mind however, and walked past you.

“That’s what I said.”

It took you a moment to get moving again, but you started following him towards the door, you were hot on his heels. He had already managed to piss you off before he even left his car.

“This isn’t even your house, Josh. How in the hell is that your spot.”

Josh didn’t bother knocking on the door and instead just let himself in. Had it not been for the two of you arguing, rather loudly, Jake probably wouldn’t have known you were there. You and Josh were bickering so intensely that it was actually Jake's presence that went unnoticed.

“You’re a self-entitled prick.” You pointed your finger at him, your chest puffed up and practically touched his.

“And you’re a selfish brat!” He spat back.

“Hey! Whoa!” Jake finally decided to intervene and pushed his brother back gently with his arm. “What the fuck could the two of you be arguing about?! You just got here!”

“Little miss ‘I only think about myself’ here parked in my spot!”

“How arrogant do you have to be to claim you have a parking spot at someone else’s house?!” You started to move in closer to Josh when you felt a pair of hands grip your shoulders.

“That’s enough, you two. It’s fucking New Year’s Eve.”

Somewhere between fighting with Josh outside and walking inside, Sam and Danny had arrived to help set up. Danny was currently holding you back.

“Josh get your ass in the kitchen and help me put out the food. Y/n go with Sam and Danny to set up the living room. I don’t wanna hear either of you say a peep to or about the other. Got it?” Jake demanded. The only response either of you gave was an unhappy mumble of agreement.

For the next hour you and Josh had been separated by his brothers. It was definitely for the best.

You, Danny and Sam worked together to finish the decorations up in the living room and set up a cocktail and champagne station. Meanwhile in the kitchen, Jake and his twin set out all the food and the full bar. When a few of your friends showed up Sam and Danny were nowhere to be found. You had assumed that they were making their rounds talking to everyone, but you spotted them almost hiding away with Jake, deep in a private conversation.

With more party-goers showing up it was easier to keep your distance from Josh. The lights had been dimmed, and you were feeling pleasantly tipsy after a cocktail. You drifted from person to person catching up and saying hi, enjoying the glamor of the evening. Some people you didn’t know and would introduce yourself to. Eventually Sam found you while you were free from company.

“Hey, Y/n, I need you to go down into Jake’s basement and get another bottle of champagne.”

“Yeah, sure. Is there a certain brand I’m looking for?”

Sam’s lips pulled up at the corner in an almost sly grin. “You’ll know it when you see it.” Without another word he walked away leaving you to retrieve the bottle.

You made your way to the door that led down into the basement and began the familiar descent down. There had been countless nights with your close friends spent in Jake’s basement just drinking, playing games and getting high. Not bothering to close the door behind you, you walked carefully down the steps.

“Dude I’m not seeing a bottle of champagne anywhere.” A voice called out from the room below you.

Josh.

He must’ve thought you were Jake coming to check on him. Before he realized it was you and not his twin, you turned and practically bolted up the stairs. You saw a glimpse of Sam on the other side of the door along with Jake and Danny before it slammed shut. The next sound you heard was a lock clicking into place.

“You have got to be joking!” You shouted and banged your fists on the door.

“Y/n? What the hell did you do?”

You turned around to meet Josh’s eyes. He was about more than halfway up the stairs, a puzzled look on his face.

“I didn’t do shit! They slammed the door and locked us in here!” You wiggled the handle furiously hoping to god it would open.

“You can’t be fucking serious.” Josh closed the distance and basically squished you against the wall. He repeated your previous action. Clearly the door wasn’t going to open.

“Oh we’re serious alright. No one is allowed to enter or exit until the two of you have worked your shit out.” Jake’s voice came from the other side of the door.

“Open the goddamn door, assholes!” Josh pounded his fist against the wood this time.

On the other side of the door there was nothing. Clearly all of them decided not to stick around. Seeing that standing there waiting around was pointless, you turned and walked down the stairs before flopping defeated onto the couch.

Great. You were trapped in a room for god knows how long with a man you despised. As if on cue, the devil himself thundered down the steps.

“This is all your fault!” He seethed, finger pointed at you as he walked over.

“My fault?!”

“Yeah, had you not parked in my spot we wouldn’t be down here right now!” He was looming over you now.

“Do you even hear yourself?!” You stood up causing him to back up quickly but the coffee table between you ensured he couldn’t go anywhere. “Any sane person would have just parked NEXT to my car, but no! You had to block me in because I parked in a spot of a house you DON’T EVEN LIVE IN!” You shoved your pointer finger into his chest to drive the point home further.

“I think you need to go back to Kindergarten when we were taught to keep our hands to ourselves.” His voice was calm and collected unlike yours, but you could tell he was fuming. It only served to irk you even further.

“Fuck. You. Josh.” You pressed your finger into him with every word and craned your neck upwards even more, invading his space just to make him break.

This was the closest you had been to Josh in a very, very long time. Even when you were arguing earlier you hadn’t been this close. His sweet but musky scent invaded every sense and you had to keep yourself from looking at his lips.

“Y/n,” You could see the anger flare in his eyes, “I would suggest you take your finger off me.” You could feel his chest rising rapidly underneath the sole digit.

“What are you,” Another thrust of your finger into his sternum, “gonna do about it?”

In an instant his lips crashed into yours. It was like your mouth moved of its own accord melding into his. Your hands fisted themselves in the collar of his white crewneck sweatshirt and pulled him closer. His hands were firm on your waist, fingers pulling you to him. The kiss was sloppy and rushed. Everything was moving a million miles a second.

Josh’s hands moved back over your hips to grab your asscheeks and gave them a firm squeeze. You bit down hard on his lip and tugged on it earning a groan from him. One of his hands gripped itself in the hair at the base of your skull and pulled enough to cause slight discomfort, but not enough to pull you away.

The kiss only got more heated, groans and moans escaping both your lips. After a few moments you were craving more and found your fingers working to undo his belt. His hands slid underneath the hem of your dress and teased around the top of your underwear before dipping further, but still he avoided everywhere you needed him. Not wanting to play into his game, you pushed his slacks and boxers past his hips, freeing him completely.

“Eager are we?” Josh didn’t even bother pulling his lips from yours.

“Are you going to play with my underwear all night or are you gonna fuck me?”

“Need it that bad huh?”

“Fuck. You.”

“Oh you’re about to. Turn around and bend over.” He took your hips in his hands and forced you to turn around. You followed his second instruction, bracing your hands on the back of the couch. With his foot he kicked your legs further apart and ran two fingers over your covered cunt. As he ran them back up the length of your slit towards your clit he curled his fingers on the edge of the fabric. He bunched the skirt of your dress up over your hips and slowly pulled your underwear to the side, watching the wetness that clung to them stretch.

“Any day now would be fucking great, Jo-”

All of the air was ripped from your lungs as he buried himself into you fully. He didn’t give you any time to recover before pulling out of you almost completely and driving back in repeatedly. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t know what he was doing. With every thrust he successfully hit that spot that made your core tighten and pitchy moans leave your mouth.

“Don’t have much to say now, do you princess?” There was no slowing his pace, and in fact you thought it even got faster and harder.

In a matter of a few minutes he had already brought you to the edge of an orgasm. You could feel yourself staring down the abyss, but you just needed one final push. Using the small amount of leverage you had, you pushed your hips back to meet his and arched your back ever so slightly. The small change in position had you practically barreling towards your climax.

“Oh fuck! Fuck, fuck, Josh. Just like that. God don’t fucking stop, I’m about to- I’m gonna- Fuck me, Josh.” You sounded desperate and whiny, but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

“You sound so pretty when you beg for my cock.” Continuing his space, Josh spread his hands over your ass, pulling your cheeks apart and stretching you even further. His right hand released your ass before coming down hard on the sensitive skin. The blow he delivered was the last push you needed into your high, and he fucked you through it.

“Look at my favorite brat cumming for me. That’s it, baby, let ‘em know how good it is.”

Even when you had finally come down, Josh never once stopped his hips and chased his own high. His pace had slowed somewhat, but the obscene sounds of his skin slapping against yours only grew louder from how wet you were.

“Josh I-” You were cut off by your own moan. It was becoming too much and you were oversensitive.

“I know, I know. Just give me one more.” His hand snaked down in front of you and rubbed slow, tight circles on your clit. His voice was far softer than it had been in the longest time. “C’mon, just one more.” It sounded almost like a plea. His lips ghosted the shell of your ear, his chest grazing over your back.

With his free hand, Josh moved your hair away from your neck and began leaving slow, open-mouthed kisses to your neck. He could feel you relax more underneath him, the discomfort turning to pleasure again. Keeping his attention on your clit, his hips started to speed up once more. You could feel the coil in your core tighten again, but much faster this time.

“God, you feel so fucking good.”

Once again he was ramming into you, but at a much slower pace and each brutal thrust of his hips bringing you that much closer to your second orgasm of the night. At this speed you were able to push back onto him more easily. After a few moments, Josh’s hips stilled completely, letting you take control. You sped up your hips and angled them with every push and pull, fucking yourself on his hard cock.

“Yeah that’s it, just like that.” His hand came into contact with your ass again forcing you to gasp in a pleasured sigh. “That’s it, baby, you fuck me so good.” Another slap landed to your backside and you were almost there.

“Just a little bit more. Keep going. So, so good.” The praises tumbled from his mouth with ease and you were eating it up.

With what little control you had left, you sped up your hips and slammed back on him repeatedly. His hands were gripping your hips so hard you were sure there would be bruises. You weren't going to last much longer.

“Josh I’m gonna cum, please.”

His hands stopped your hips from moving so he could take over. The pace he set this time was almost as fast and hard as when he first entered you. His right hand found your clit again while his left gently pushed your lower back down to increase the angle he was slamming into at. Your fingers were digging into the couch cushions, knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping them.

Just as before, with a firm smack to your ass you were pushed into your second orgasm of the night. You weren’t sure if you were making noise or not, the rush of adrenaline dulled every sense that wasn’t burning pleasure. Josh pulled out shortly after you came, catching sight of your cunt fluttering around nothing while he pumped himself a few more times. He braced himself against the back of the couch with his hand next to yours and his chest almost leaned fully on your back as he came on your lower back and ass.

As soon as he caught his breath he moved off you with only a simple, “Don’t move.” You did as he asked and stayed put, but mainly because you didn’t wanna risk getting cum on your dress. A few seconds later you were being wiped off with some kind of cloth before he carefully moved your underwear back in place.

“You should be good.”

“Thanks...” You stood up slightly confused and let the skirt of your dress fall back over your hips.

Josh threaded his belt back through the buckle and sat down on the couch. You felt awkward just standing there, but you weren’t sure what to say. He had been nice to you which you weren’t used to. And just gave you some of the best sex you’ve had in a very, very long time.

“Well that is not how I envisioned our first time going.” Josh rubbed his hands down his face and leaned back into the couch.

Once again you were confused. What did he mean by that?

“Our first time? Like you’ve thought about it?”

Josh didn’t say anything and instead stared at you like he hadn’t realized he said it out loud.

“And why were you being nice to me? You’re always such an ass, I thought you hated me.” He took a deep sigh and thought for a moment before speaking.

“I don’t hate you, Y/n.” His voice was soft and quiet. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually hated you. I think I was just hurt.”

“Hurt? You’ve treated me like shit all this time because you were hurt? What the hell did I ever do to you?” You couldn’t help the animosity seeping into your tone. You were pissed off. He was the one that started treating you like shit out of nowhere.

“Please, Y/n, don’t pretend you don’t know what you did.” Defeated anger laced his voice, his eyes slicing but still soft in a way.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Josh. Please enlighten me!”

“You ditched our gig for a date!” He stood from the couch and faced you, his hands flailing about. “I had specifically invited you to our home show for Strange Horizons and had passes for you and you blew us off for a date with your coworker!” He leaned in closer to you, invading your space more and more.

“Josh I-“

“I planned to sing Unchained Melody for you and then after the show I was gonna finally tell you how I felt because I thought you felt the same!”

You knew exactly which show he was talking about but he had the information wrong.

“Josh, I did feel the same way… And I never stood you up for a date.”

“But-“ You grabbed his hands and gave them a light squeeze.

“I got stuck at work. The person who was supposed to cover my shift backed out at the last minute and I had to go in. I couldn’t find anyone else to cover me on such short notice. I never had a date. My coworker canceled on me for a date.”

He looked absolutely dumbfounded. It was like the pieces were clicking into place for him.

“Oh god I am the stupidest man alive.” You smiled at him softly and threaded your fingers with his.

“No you’re not. It was a miscommunication. It happens.”

“Yeah, but I wasted the past year being so awful to you. Had I just asked you about it then maybe we could’ve…” You cut him off with a soft peck to his lips.

“Hey, it’s a new year, right?”

“Right.” He checked his watch. “Looks like we missed midnight,” he noted playfully, “but we definitely got our New Year's kiss.”

You giggled at that. Josh pulled you closer and smiled down at you fondly before giving you another quick kiss. “Let’s hope they didn’t forget about us.” He snickered, keeping one hand entwined with yours and walking towards the stairs. When he tried the handle it gave way with ease and the door swung open. He led the two of you back out into the house still holding your hand.

“Well it’s about damn time!” Sam hollered pointing at your hand in Josh’s. Whoops and more excited cheering followed making both of your cheeks flame.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Josh turned to you with bright red cheeks but with a smile that overtook his entire face. You nodded, not wanting to have to deal with how obnoxious your friends will be all night.

“Guess it doesn’t even matter that he blocked you in now!” Danny called after the two of you. You tried to make a quick getaway with everyone adding their two senses to the subject, all in favor of the two of you getting over yourselves.

Both of you just laughed at Danny’s comment and exited Jake’s house towards Josh’s Jeep. He opened the door for you to hop in the passenger side and made his way around to the driver’s side. Josh pulled his phone out to put on some music and chuckled to himself. He flipped the phone around to show you what amused him.

It was a text he had gotten while you were stuck in the basement.

Jake: Went to check on you to make sure neither of you murdered the other. Definitely didn’t sound like either of you were in danger… Not what I intended, but glad you worked your shit out. Don’t fuck it up this time.

The two of you rang in the new year at Josh’s house with an actual bottle of champagne and even more fireworks than the ones going off all around.

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slut4prongs · 1 year ago

Note

Could you please write a part two with a happy ending to Sirius Blacks first fight? I’m a happy ending girl too and it’s killing me that it ends like that! 😂

sirius black x reader

part 2 to this

very willing to finish this as a happy ending

Its been two weeks since your fight with Sirius. Actually its been two weeks since you last even saw him seeing as two days after the fight everyone was heading home for the holidays.

And now, as you stand in your fire place on new years eve, preparing to use the floo network to get to the Potters for a party, you are panicking.

Two weeks. Two weeks away from Sirius was all it took for you to realize you didn’t want to be away from him, but what he did was wrong, and he never apologized.

So you were panicking, scared that the second you saw his stupid, perfect, flawless face, you’d be apologizing, retracting your previous argument, even when you still stand by what you said.

So with one last deep breath, you throw down the floo powder and speak ‘Potter’s Manor’

Moments after you appear in the Potter boys fireplace, you are pulled from it by an already tipsy James.

“Y/n, you’re here!”

Accepting the uncoordinated hug he’s giving you, you laugh softly at him.

“Yes James, how-”

You’re quickly cut off by a familiar voice,

“Oi, Prongs, who are you over here harassing now”

James quickly, or as quickly as he can with his current state, releases you from his arms and looks at the source of the voice behind you.

You turn to face Sirius, mentally preparing yourself, yet again, to see his stupid flawless face.

Only this time, you’re not greeted by a flawless face. No, there’s actually a flaw, one big one. A big black eye.

Of course you know of Sirius’ home life, but never had you seen him with a bruise like this. His parents always seemed to make sure the abuse the enacted was hidden away.

Apparently you had been staring, mouth slightly agape, at Sirius’ eye for long enough for James to have wandered away, and for Sirius to feel the need to regain your attention.

“Hello? Y/n?”

Blinking harshly a few times to pull yourself out of your trance.

“Hm? Sorry, Hi, Sirius.”

Sirius can’t stop the small smile that forms on his face hearing his name coming from your lips.

“How was your christmas?” He questions you, pulling you even further from the trance your still kind of in.

“It was nice, missed my family. How was yours?”

You felt silly asking him that, obviously it couldn’t have been good. Unless the only thing on his christmas list was a bruised eye.

Sirius’ answer abruptly ripped you out of your thoughts. “It was really good actually,” he pause and smiled softly, not his usual smirk, but a genuine smile that looked like he couldn’t help but do it.

“Spent it here, with the Potters.” He continued, which made your lips part in shock for the second time this evening.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m, uh, actually living here now. But, um, would you mind going upstairs to talk, I have a lot I need to tell you.”

“Oh, yeah, sure-” You start before getting interrupted yet again, this time by Marlene grabbing your arm.

“Y/n! You’re here! C’mon we need to get you a drink.”

With that she pulls you away from Sirius and towards the table that has a spread of various liquids on it.

—

A few hours pass, only around 20 minutes left until midnight, and you’ve still yet to stumble upon Sirius again.

That is until you are stepping out of the bathroom and straight into a hard surface, Sirius’ chest. His arms speedily wrap around your waist, much to fast for someone who was drunk, which leads you to believe he hadn’t drunk which is very unlike him.

He keeps his hands on your waist when he looks down at you, “You okay?”

“Mhm, Sorry Siri” Immediately after the words left your mouth you’re mentally berating yourself for it, the stupid nickname just slipped out.

Sirius doesn’t seem to notice or at least if he did he didn’t show it.

He removes his arms from your body and takes a small step back to give you your personal space.

“Could we maybe talk now? My rooms right there,” He is picking at the skin around his nails as he talks, a nervous habit of his you could recognize anywhere.

You can’t stop yourself from reaching out with your own hand to take one of his, as to stop his picking.

“Sure, Sirius” You give him the warmest smile you can muster up, but you’re 99% sure it was more a nervous smile than anything.

He doesn’t release your hand but instead uses it to guide you a few feet down the hall into his bedroom.

Scanning the room while Sirius shuts the door, you notice that his room is lacking in anything very personal, that is barring 3 things.

The first being a drawing of his star and his brothers that they drew together as kids taped to the wall, the next being a small stuffed lion you had given him in second year when he was upset that Regulus was sorted into a different house.

And the final thing being a set of photos from a muggle photo booth taped up on the wall next to the drawing, they are of the two of you on your third date when you snuck out of school to show Sirius a muggle carnival.

Sirius steps around you to take a seat on the end of his bed and pats the spot next to him for you to sit.

The moment you sit down next to him, he quickly turns to look at you and speak.

“I just wanted to tell you how sorry i am, for everything.”

“Sirius, I-”

“Y/n, please just let me say this,”

You stay silent, and nod to let him know to continue.

“You don’t have to forgive me, but I just felt like you deserve an explanation. I have no idea why I let that girl flirt with me, and I especially don’t know why I did it back. It isn’t fun, I don’t enjoy flirting with anyone but you. No one else scrunches up their nose and blushes when I compliment them like you do. No one else’s entire face turns red and hides in my neck when I kiss their head, not that I’m kissing anyone else’s head, by the way.”

You giggle softly at the was he rushes out the last part and he smiles.

“And that, no one else has a laugh that makes me want to do as many stupid things as I can just to hear it, no matter the consequence. I think I flirted back with her because I was scared, that if i wasn’t the same flirty, confident, ‘I don’t care about anything’ person, no one would like me anymore. But I realized, I really don’t care if they like me, I just want you to like me.”

You let out a shaky breath before speaking, “Sirius,”

“Hold on, I’ve still got more.”

That makes you burst out into a fit of giggles for a minute until you can calm yourself down.

“Okay, okay, continue.”

He’s grinning at you ear to ear when you look back at him when you speak.

“Thank you,” He chuckles

“I’m also sorry that I don’t know how to love you the way you deserve. I know that you deserve better than me, and I planned to leave you alone so you could find that. But after my parents beat the shit out of me a week ago and I had a few minutes to grab some of my stuff and run, the first thing I grabbed were our pictures. I know its selfish, but I love you so much that i can’t help but be selfish when it comes to you, I don’t want you to go find someone else who can love you better, I want you to help me learn how to love you right.”

When he finishes there are tears building up in your eyes, threatening to fall down your cheeks.

A small “Sirius..” is all you manage before the tears to fall and you wrap your arms around his waist and burying your head into his chest.

“Oh, darling, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He murmurs softly into your ear as he begins to run one of his hands up and down your back, soothingly, and the other through your hair.

“How can you say things like that and not expect me to cry?” You say through sobs, squeezing your arms around him tighter.

“Oh sweetheart,” Is all his says as he continues the movements with his hands until you calm down and pull back from his arms.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have jumped on you like that.”

“Please don’t be sorry, all I’ve wanted since I ran away was to hug you.”

That makes you frown a little before you reach out and grab his hand.

“Sirius, I forgive you, and I miss you so so much, I was to harsh when I told you that you weren’t good at loving people. Its not your fault your parents are pricks,”

Sirius laughs fully at that, and squeezes your hand tighter.

“I shouldn’t have handled that situation the way I did. I was acting purely out of jealousy and wasn’t being rational. I’m not saying what you did was okay, but I understand why you did it, and I believe you when you say you won’t again.”

Sirius’ faces grows into a bigger smile the more you speak.

“So what does this mean?” He questions excitedly.

“It means that I want you to be selfish, I want to teach you what it feels to really love, and I especially want to be your girlfriend again.”

Sirius jumps to his feet and pulls you up with him and into his arms to hug you.

“Oh thank Merlin, I think I would have died without you.”

You smile against his neck from the position he has you stuck in.

“There’s my drama queen, oh how I missed you.” You tease and he pulls away from the hug slightly.

“Oh, you-” He starts but cuts himself off when the sound of everyone down stairs counting down from 10 can be heard.

He looks down at you and smiles.

10..

9..

8..

7..

He leans closer to your face, and moves one of his hands to push a lock of hair behind your ear and rests it on you cheek.

4..

3..

2..

You stand up on your toes so that your lips brush lightly against one another’s.

1..

“Happy new years, my love.” Sirius whispers against your lips.

“Happy new years, Siri.” You respond before standing up a little taller to fully press your lips together into a deep passionate kiss.

You break away a few moments later, foreheads resting against one another, heavy breathing matched up, and the yelling cheers of your friends celebrating down stairs.

“I love you, Sirius.”

“I love you, Y/n.”

Theres a sudden crash and the sound of breaking glass down stairs along with someone yelling “James!” that breaks you both out of your lovesick trance.

You both groan, and separate from each other except for your hands which are still clasped together.

You head out into the hall before you speak again.

“Oh and we need to circle back to your parents beating the shit out of you,”

“Shit, I thought I distracted you enough that you’d forget about that.”

“Sirius. What?!”

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hana-no-seiiki · 1 year ago

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REJECTION

YANDERE! IDOL! OC! (EVE) x IDOL! READER BLURB (ft. new ocs!)

Before we start, I’m excited to announce that I’m finally starting an HNSVerse webtoon/comic series w/ our starting story ( being the one Eve/Jisoo is featured in ) Love ♡ Multiplied ! Invasion of Your Heart this fall. Hope to see you guys during its release ehe.

If you’re new to my blog, go ahead and check the tag hns.eve for more works of him, or check out my master list.

Without further ado, here’s Eve’s first ‘solo’ fic! Enjoy!

warnings: yandere themes (obsessive love, violence, unreliable narrator). mentions of alcohol abuse/alcoholism. incel/nice guy jisoo. profanity.

status: unedited

©️ both the art and story belong to me, please do not redistribute, repost, translate or share without credit/permission.

this particular fic is safe for minors (16+) so no mdni on this folks. feel free to enjoy.

[previous fic / prequel to this fic]

“I’m sorry, but I don’t like you that way.”

Jisoo never truly knew the power of words til he heard you after his confession.

He prepared months in advance, with a dedication that was unusual to him at the time.

He picked the perfect venue, the one convenience store you two always ate onigiri at. He picked the perfect time, sunset — to really set the mood — and a week after monthly examinations so that emotions were not running too high. He spent hours, days, maybe even weeks just agonizing over the words to choose when he finally poured his feelings out. He even prepared for times after the

Throughout his whole time as a trainee, nothing felt as bad as the dejection your words gave him.

“W-what do you mean?”

“You’re more of a dad to me . . .” He saw your eyes flick left and right, clearly uncomfortable with the arrangement despite the plan he meticulously concocted.

Still he could not control the poison from injecting itself within the crevices of his inflection, his delivery coming out as awfully sour — maybe even petty, “A dad? You’re older than me.”

“Yeah, a dad friend. You’re the more mature one between us and . . . I just — I just can’t see you romantically.” If the damage wasn’t enough, you ended your explanation with an emphasis. “Ever.”

You then grabbed your belongings and left. Though, being the polite and kind person you were, you made sure to at least give him a farewell.

Jisoo sighed, looking up towards the convenience store ceiling lights. The sting from the bright luminance distracted him only a little bit before his mind went back to you. Consumed by his thoughts, his heart suddenly began beating a million times a second. A sudden adrenaline rush overcame him.

If you didn’t like him because of his personality, he’ll just go ahead and change that up a bit.

The day right after, Jisoo found himself doing something he would have never even thought of. It was amazing how much you made him realize and change. It was actually why completely fell in the first place.

Though, the changes before were natural and a bit too slow. Jisoo needed to have you as his as soon as he possibly could. And so, change had to happen now and under his jurisdiction.

You weren’t present that day, so it wasn’t too out of the ordinary to follow a couple of trainees out when lessons concluded. Usually he was completely stuck to your side and your side alone. Conversation didn’t come naturally to him, as such friends don’t either.

It took him a few minutes to man up and a long, deep breath to finally attempt getting one of the trainee’s attention.

Daehyun was his name, Jisoo thinks. When getting the former’s attention he opted to tug the guy’s sleeve just to be safe.

“What’s up? Oh, it’s you. ” Daehyun turned around. His silver eyes sparkled underneath the late afternoon’s sunlight. He was one of if not the best dancer in Celestial Entertainment. In addition to that, he was known for charming personality and magnetic stage presence.

Frankly, Jisoo only saw him as annoyingly bright and cheery. They were exact opposites. They fought on a daily basis.

But that was exactly why Jisoo needed him in particular.

“You’re childish.” Jisoo began.

Daehyun’s jaw goes slack at this cool, raven haired giant’s audacity. Most of the time he’d come back with a retort but he was utterly drained from practice. “Ah. . .Okay then. . . Well I gotta go — “

Daehyun jerked his arm away, but that only prompted Jisoo to fully grab him by the bicep, “Teach me.”

“Sorry, I think I’m misunderstandiny you. You want me to teach you how to be childish?“

Jisoo nodded vigorously, “I want to be a better idol. And . . . a better fellow trainee. Listen. I’ve been a terrible person to everyone here. I just want to be better.”

Daehyun doesn’t answer for a long time. Maybe even minutes pass before he did. At least, enough time for the trainee walking alongside him to realize his partner wasn’t near him anymore.

His jaw was still wide open.

“Wow, points for self-awareness yo. Finally.”

“Bold words for someone in punching range.” Jisoo lets go of the shorter man’s arm and crosses his. An eyebrow raised.

“Fine, fine. Guess your short temper hasn’t gone anywhere. Time for Being Chill 101, yeah?” Daehyun then shouted to his companion, an even shorter guy that Jisoo dreaded asking help from. But he was desperate. Beggars can never be choosers. “Hayate! C’mere! Jisoo needs a lil help!”

“Eeehhhhh—?! Jisoo? Asking for help? The gods have answered our prayers!”

Jisoo soon realized that he asked help from a bunch of hooligans.

If he faces rejection again after all this trouble, he might just murder a man.

“Hey.” You walked towards Jisoo with your usual smile.

“Heyyy!” He greeted back. Earning a confused look from you as you sat beside him.

You chuckled at his strange demeanor. Well, maybe it wasn’t so strange. You knew Jisoo could be quite awkward at times. Considering you haven’t seen each-other for months by now, he must feel weird talking to you all of a sudden. Especially after what you did last time. “What has gotten into you?” You asked. It was either your earlier theory or the effect of him hanging out with other people. You heard he started spending some more time with other trainees. Even going on drinking sprees with large groups. You didn’t approve of such activities but were too busy to scold him on the topic lately.

But apparently both of your guesses were ‘wrong’ as he had answered, “Huh? Me? Pffft. Nothing. Justa — think I drank too much coffee.”

You could smell the stench of soju and beer in his breath now that you were closer. “Right. I just wanted to say that we can still hang out you know. Doesn’t mean that I rejected you that we can’t talk anymore.”

“Oh, sorry! Sorry. Did it feel like I was avoiding you? I was just busy with Idol Image training.”

“Idol Image training? I thought you hated those lessons.”

“Ya know me. Indecisive and impulsive as always.”

Jisoo grinned at you. But all you could do was cringe out of pity and guilt.

Apparently the guilt you felt wasn’t enough however as you decided that it was now or never to rub some salt into gaping hole of a wound.

“Almost forgot. I have to tell you something. I got a deal to be a solo artist.”

“Solo what now? I thought we were debuting together.”

“Looking at how you’re dealing with my rejection. I think it’s safe to say that us working and living together won’t go too well. I don’t want to lead you on. We’re friends. Nothing else. Sorry if I did so before.”

You didn’t even let him show you how much he’d improve. How much he worked on his way with words and conversation. Before he even had the chance to show his work you had not only rejected him once again but extinguished any hope from forming.

For once in these past few months when Jisoo had been the most talkative he had ever been in his life, he found himself speechless again.

“Soo?”

“I’m . . . proud of you. Really.”

The awkward air was too much for your to bare, so you left right after. Not a goodbye or even a wave.

Instead he watched as you swiftly made your exit. A frown laced your exquisite features.

He then spotted a man. He looked quite a bit older than you. Elegant and refined, he wore a classic black suit with a long coat draped on his back. Short leather gloves that no doubt hid hands as attractive as his own face. His hair was somehow darker than the one Jisoo was born with.

But what struck the young trainee the most was the man’s pine green eyes. It was like a forest one could easily get lost in. A cliche description he knew. But it was the best he could think of.

Jisoo doesn’t realize the trance he was in until the man suddenly turned straight at him —

— and smirked.

People often saw Jisoo leave early during drinking parties. They chalked it up to his shy nature and he didn’t really have a good tolerance.

In reality it was mostly because he found a perfect victim to vent out his frustrations on that night.

It was usually a person too drunk to even understand or realize what was going on.

“Useless.” He muttered, kicking the random man’s stomach before the latter curled up in the floor in pain.

“Stop! Please stop!”

Jisoo scoffed at his protest. His red eye held no light as he continued his ministrations. This time stomping on the stranger’s cheek. “Utter piece of shit.”

The man stops protesting. All that could be heard in the cold chill of the night, was sounds of harsh impacts and Jisoo’s complaints and self deprecating words.

“Too mature? Bah. Bet that was all a fucking lie. They just couldn’t fuck a pathetic piece of shit like me.” Jisoo gave one last stomp, aiming specifically towards the man’s hazel eyes that reminded him of the person that took you.

Wait.

Eyes. Green Eyes.

That man was the CEO of Celestial Entertainment. A man known to be cut-throat and ruthless. A man who’s infamous for his apathetic nature regarding business. He probably saw your potential and thought that putting you in a group would dim it down.

Ace.

That’s it! You didn’t want to actually go solo. Jisoo understood now. Why was he so stupid?

You were just forced by that smug-faced bastard.

He leaned down, happily whispering in a sing-songy voice to his victim. “Thanks man. You really helped.”

“Woah.” A familiar cheerful voice resonated from behind him.

Jisoo froze.

He was done for. He was going to jail. This was it.

No, he had to calm down. Think rationally. He studied for this goddamn it.

Jisoo slowly spun his head. The happy expression on his face was instantly replaced with a horrified one. A look of confusion, fear and sadness. “Daehyun - 형 . . . he . . he came unto me— “

“Shit bro. No worries I got you covered.”

With rejection came realization. With charm came blind support. And with the right words and proper delivery, any person could be swayed.

“Wanna go drink after this?”

“You paying?”

Jisoo wished, for the good of everyone else and himself, that this green-eyed monster would not freely give rejection as you did.

[ TRANSLATIONS ]

형 - hyeong - older brother (not literal). honorific used by men towards those who are older (also men).

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

#hns.eve #love multiplied 👾❤️#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagine #yandere oc #yandere fic #yandere oc x reader #yandere original character #yandere core #tw yandere #yandere blurb #yandere concept #yandere idol #yandere idol x reader

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idkfitememate · 7 months ago

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In Eden’s Garden

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : GN! Adam/Eve Reader x Lilith + Obey Me Character

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 6.4k

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : fluff to angst, character death, Reader is basically a angsty teen

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : Got bored, got too many brainrots and obsessions rn and wrote this “super fast” just to prove a point *AHEM*

(Also you kinda have a “set” look in the beginning, but that’ll change! It’s for stories sake I’m sorry-)

((Also also, I’m so sorry guys… you start off as a Texan I’m so sorry-)) [Fun fact I have a slight southern accent and it’s wild when I hear it-]

Yes this is the Adam/Eve!Reader x Obey Me. It has been rotting my mind for months I’m not sorry-

The Garden of Eden.

Never was it, nor its human counterparts spoken of in a negative light in the Celestial Realm.

Talk of trees that grew above the clouds and lakes so crystalline that you could see every grain of sand under the perfectly glowing sunlight flew out of Angel’s mouths, some even admitting small amounts of jealousy at how finely those mortals were living.

It interested Lilith.

Youngest of seven siblings and one of the Seven Heavenly Virtues - that Virtue being Patience - she was of high status and importance among those lucky enough to live under their Father’s light and guidance.

She wanted to know more than what those baseless rumors and tales could offer her, so one night, beneath the many star like moons of her home, she flew down beneath the clouds but above the stony bridge that would have snatched her away, down into the depths of the Devil’s Realm.

Her wings, as pure as a dove, flapped endlessly to carry her over gorgeous mountain ranges and wide plains of golden grass, over the bluest of oceans, to find this fabled Garden.

And finally? She came upon it.

Landing gracefully on the emerald green grass, she took in the sight. She supposed this Garden truly was what one would get if you took a piece of The Celestial Realm and placed it in the Human Realm.

Colorful birds filled the sky with trees of every type surrounding her. Animals she had never seen before lunged around her. Feeling giddy, she began to run with the multiple groups, eventually taking off.

She flew over a lake, lowering herself right above it to gently grace her fingers over the top, ripples feathering out and creating small waves behind her. Fish kept from the water around her in grand arks, and with a giggle she pushed herself higher with a great flap.

Liliths giggles bubbled into loud laughter, as she soared over tree tops with beautifully colored birds, spinning and diving with no one to tell her no.

She felt free.

That was, until she didn’t manage to catch herself in a dive and crashed through the treetops.

She slammed into the grassy floor of the forest, dragging through the dirt as rocks flung out of her way, eventually being stopped by a tree. It took her a moment to really get her bearings, but when she did she was suddenly all too aware of her surroundings.

It wasn’t nearly as bright here as it was out there.

The shadows of the trees were long and bird song was suddenly silenced. The winds picked up and branches shook harshly, leaves being pulled from their trees.

She could barely make out the sun, clouds blocking its path, and the lack of other creatures was deafening.

Something was watching her. Not unlike the gazes of her elders when she made a small mistake on a document or once again had a day where she stole her closet brothers away to just have fun.

Its gaze was attached to her back, and she curled into herself. She was wrong, this gaze was worse.

It wasn’t scrutinizing her, it was observing her. Watching her movements. Taking her in.

She felt something she couldn’t identify. She hadn’t felt it before. Something crossed of anxiety and that feeling when someone was angry with her.

She was… scared?

That word flew through her mind. She heard it scarcely with fellow Angels. It wasn’t something usually felt in her home, as it’s wasn’t truly necessary. They were supposed to be happy in the Celestial Realm, and fear was not positive, it was a negative, something Demons would usually deal with.

So why was she…

A branch snapped in the background, echoing through the empty forest around her. She jolted upright, grabbing her knees and wrapping her arms around them.

Her breath grew heavy as she began to look around wildly, her wings puffing up as she curled into herself tighter. Her knees to her chest, she instead took her arms from her legs and wrapped them around her head.

“Whoever is there… please…”

Her voice was weak. She shook in the breeze, the delicate flowing fabrics of her gown dancing wildly in the wind with her hair. Her sniffed, trying hard to hold the tears that had suddenly formed in her eyes at bay.

“Please…”

Suddenly, she heard footsteps, fast and steady, rushing towards her. Her head shot up as they grew closer, fight or flight kicking in immediately. She jumped up, arms cradling her chest.

“W-wait!-“

Deciding against talking, she ran.

She hadn’t thought she’d have to fight, so she saw no need in bringing her holy weapon. Her bare feet pounded against the earth. Wildly thrashing through branches, leaves and sticks got stuck in her hair, scratching her face, ichor slipping from the wounds. She pushed through the forest, looking for a space to take off. She heard the footsteps growing closer and faster, nearing her with animosity.

Finally she burst from the forest line and down a hill, tumbling down and landing on her wing awkwardly, causing a dull pain to scream through the joint. White feathers flew as she fell, small screams falling from her throat. She finally rolled to a stop, tears and ichor mixing on the ground. Her shaken sobs making her body shiver on the ground.

She turned and laid eyes on mask, painted with gold and black accents.

Long flowing golden hair trailed behind them as they walked towards the fallen Angel. A tight black top clung to their chest, sleeveless and cut off right below the pecks. A pure white sash wrapped around their shoulder and down onto their waist, a bow on their thigh tying it together. Large, black flowing pants with golden accents ended at their ankles where their feet were wrapped in bandages. Armor clung to their arms - black with golden trimmings - one arm having slimmer armor that ended at the wrist, revealing an archer’s glove, the other arm ending in a gauntlet with sharpened claws for fingers. A small amount of the same armor rested on their waist, held together with a golden chain. A white scarf that flowed behind them covered the bottom part of the white mask with golden inlays that hid their face from Lilith.

What brought it all together were the feathers that attached to one side of their mask. A large golden one, two pure white ones on either side of it, and a small row of black feathers behind them.

A bow rested on their back, large and black in color with golden accents, made of the same metals that made the armors that covered their skin. A long sword rested on their back as well, under the bow. A circular shield rested atop the bow, though from the angle she lay at, Lilith could not see the design on its front. The sheath was beautifully decorated with golds. A quiver rested on their hip, filled to the brim with arrows begging to be used, surrounded in smaller bags and satchels. And finally, in their hand, was a large and imposing spear. Long and thin, yet it looked to be made of a strong metal, one light enough to glide through air if thrown.

They slowly and antagonizingly made their way towards the fallen Angelic girl, who in a last ditch effort shot a weak burst of light from her palm. It was hot, but if not hot enough to injure then it would be bright, to blind. Though unfortunately, the person just smacked it away with their spear.

They made it in front of the still downed Lilith, who was preparing to prey to The Father for safety, before they crouched down and kneeled before her. They both stared - Lilith assumed they were anyway - at each other for a moment. Then, the clawed hand came to their mask, and slowly pulled it above their head.

Lilith’s eyes widened.

“A genuine Angel..? Here..? Well, I do apologize for our horrid meeting. Hadit been in my hands I’d’ve had you land safely into m’ arms, pretty lady. Now, what can this a-humble human do for a graceful lil’ thing such as yourself? Father got any new messages f’ me?”

Soft (e/c) eyes stared back into Lilith’s with a soft smile as well. A hand was offered to her as well, which she took. The spear in hand was safely placed on their back as they pulled her up gently, their un-clawed hand gently wrapped around her waist.

“Oh! Where are my manners! S’cuse me, but I’m The First. Eh, heard from the last Angel that visited that ya’ll might call me Adam? Or Eve? Couldn’t really tell. You can pick though, pretty lady. Speakn’ of, what’s your name dove?”

They gave her a toothy grin as she stared wide-eyed at them. They were… Adam… and Eve? Looking at their body they looked neither feminine nor masculine, a perfect mix of the two. As did their face.

“L-Lilith…” “Well nice to meet you, Lilith! As I said, Adam or Eve I don’t mind neither, course you could come up with somethin’ of yer own!”

Lilith continued to stare at the human-you as you walked her through the forest she just ran through. Taking her through a small yet visible path into a small clearing, sat in the center was a small little hut of wood with a high standing brick chimney.

“Oh! Darn, yer wing! Ah, my apologies Lilith, I assume this happened when ya took that real big tumble down the way? Now, I ain’t ever heal no Angel wing before, but I’d be a fool not to try for you, dove.” Their hand brushed over her wing gently, smoothing down some feathers. Lilith looked at them, taking in their features once more. They looked… young.

“How long have you been here..? Alone..?” The looked at her with widened eyes, before turning back to the hut.

Silent with a thoughtful look on their face, they opened the polished, wooden door and showed Lilith inside first, closing the door behind them. With a flick of their wrist, a flame enveloped their hand, and with another, shot out of their grip, startling the Angel.

It flew to different corners of the house, bouncing off walls and other surfaces until they found their placement in various lamps around the room, bathing the small house in a warm glow.

“How did you… you spoke no words-“ “Yeah, been doin’ things of that sort for as long as I can remember. Didn’t mean to startle you. But to answer your other question… I don’t know, truly. Been left with my thoughts for ‘bout as long as I’ve been alive, not countin’ the few Angels that may come down with a message from The Father anyway.”

They sat her down in a small chair, and she really took in her surroundings.

It was all one room really, only a wall separating what she assumed was the kitchen from the living/bedroom. The kitchen had the bare minimum, a wood fire stove and a couple small chests and cabinets. In the living room was the base of the chimney, a fire having been lit inside it with a large pot rested against it. In front of it were two wooden chairs, each draped with thick woolen blankets. Behind the chairs was a bed that took up a large corner of the home, pressed to the wall next to the door. A small window rested above it, as well as a shelf with small pots containing various flowers of different sizes, shapes and colors. Beside the small kitchen area was a small circular table - where she was sat now - with four chairs surrounding it. It sat in the corner opposite to the bed, with a window beside it as well and a potted flower in the center.

It was small, but cozy. As she looked around, Lilith barely noticed as the human, who had placed their weapons at the foot of the bed and mask on a hook next to it, took a look at her wing, gently flexing it and feeling up the joint to get a better feeling for the injury.

“S’nothin’ too bad. Pulled a muscle, might be a sprain. I’d say stay off it for a bit, maybe ‘bout a… week?” Lilith looked at them incredulously.

“A WEEK!?! I NEED TO BE BACK BY TONIGHT!!! I can’t stay here… I need… I can’t-“ She kept up from the chair, causing it to clatter against the floor. She flinched as it fell but the human simply stared.

“Is there anything you can do?? I need to leave, this was a on a whim trip and no one knows I’m here-“ “No one knows?” They interrupted.

“Well now dove, ain’t that a bit irresponsible of you?” Lilith sighed with a grimace.

“Well… yeah. BUT I WAS CURIOUS!! I couldn’t help myself! I just had to see the Garden of Eden. It sounded to pretty a magical and and… oh isn’t there anything? I’m not the greatest at healing magic, my brothers usually take care of all my cuts and scrapes…” The human smiled at her while gently rubbing her back.

“Now don’tcha worry your pretty lil’ head dove, ya interrupted me ‘fore I could say that’d be if I couldn’t heal it, which I can. So you just sit back down an’ led me work my magic, alright?” They picked back up the chair she had knocked over and sat her back down.

“Plus, a week ain’t that bad compared to what it woulda been f’ me. I’da been outta commission for at least a month. But with y’all’s fancy Angel bodies, healing is all quick like. Notice here? Ya face scratches are all gone dove.” Lilith gently placed a hand on her face, noticing the dull throb of any of the scratches she sustained in the chase were gone.

“I-I guess I never noticed, considering we don’t regularly get hurt in The Celestial Realm…” She mused. The human chuckled.

“Heh, wouldn’t expect y’all too. Anyway, gonna have this wing fixed up faster than double-struck lightning.” The Angel looked that them.

“What?” “Eh?”

They both stared before the human chuckled.

“Don’t mind me, let’s just get this here wing fixed up. I’m gonna count to three, and then you’re gonna hold ya breath, alright?” She was confused, but Lilith nodded.

“Alrighty, one…” She closed her eyes and took a breath.

“Two…” She felt the humans hands wrap around the injury.

“THREE!” A loud *SNAP* sounded through the room, and her eyes shot open. Before she could scream or anything of the sort, a cooling sensation flowed through her wing, the dull pain she felt washing away. She sighed in relief and leaned into the touch of the human. She couldn’t see it, but a sweet smile crossed their face.

“Thank you… so much…” “It’s no problem, dove. My fault you even got hurt in the first place. Again, my apologies f’ that.” Lilith huffed.

“No, it’s my fault for even getting in this situation in the first place, I shouldn’t have left without permission. Maybe I would’ve known where your dwelling was and could have made a safer landing.” That human chuckled and gently pulled her up.

“Now now, don’t go gettin’ your knickers in a twist over this, alright? Here, we both take blame.” “No no, I did more harm in the long run-“

They placed their hands on her shoulders, mindful of the claws on their single gauntlet.

“Nope. Not hearin’ you out ‘bout this. Anyway, you best be getting outta here now dove. Wouldn’t want’cha getting in no kinda trouble just cause you came down and visited this mortal. Come one now, let me show you out.”

A arm wrapped around her waist, gently leading her back to the front and out the house into the small clearing.

“Next time ya come ‘round here, make sure ya got some kinda permission, alright?” They asked. Lilith blushed as she looked back, an embarrassed chuckle following.

“I will. Promise.” The human smiled back.

“Alright then. Now then, it’s time f’ you to swap spit an’ hit the road.” The Angel looked back, aghast.

“It’s time for us to WHAT?!” She screamed, leading the human the lift their hands in surrender and laugh.

“Sorry, I just meant it’s time for you to leave, dove.” Lilith sighed and chuckled with them.

“Alright, thank you again! I will visit, I hope you know that!” They nodded and she smiled.

With a final smile, she leapt into the air, wingbeats echoing through the landscape. As she cut through the sky, she took a glance back and noticed them enthusiastically waving her off with a big silly grin, causing her to grin.

Yeah, she’d be back.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍮🍯🍧୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Belphegor had begun to notice Lilith’s absences were increasing.

It wasn’t odd for the youngest of the seven to go missing on one of her little adventures, but for them to be happening so often?

And on top of that, she seemed happier. Now, don’t get him wrong, Belphegor loved seeing his sister so happy, but the thing was he couldn’t tell what exactly was making her so happy.

Also she called him “as pretty a peach”??? Whatever that means??? What even was a peach???

Anyway, he was determined to find out what it was, especially since last night she came home THREE HOURS after dinner all giddy and stuff.

Today was the triplets day off and with Beel out for the moment and her in her room, Belphegor figured this would be the best time for questioning.

Knocking on her door and waiting for the muted ‘come in’, he entered the room and closed the door behind him.

“Yeah, Belphie?” Lilith was sat on her bed on her stomach, legs swinging above her. Her head was resting in her palm as her other hand held a letter.

“I just had a question, nothing serious. May I sit?” Belphegor asked from the door. He pointed beside the laid down girl who giggled.

“Yep! Go right ahead.” She said, rolling over and sitting up. Belphegor sat by her feet and looked at his sister.

“My question is… what’s been making you so happy lately?” A sour look crossed the man’s face as Lilith only stared… Before bursting out into laughter over his expression.

“PFFFT- WHAT KINDA QUESTION IS THAT BELPHIE???” She laughed. Belphegor coughed into his fist to hide his now embarrassed expression, causing Lilith’s laughter to only grow in volume.

“W-Well I only ask because you’ve been so... so… Giddy! Lately! Like your head has been in the clouds!!” Belphegor defended, Lilith’s laughter quieted.

“Well for one, aren’t our head technically always in the clouds?” Belphegor stared at her as she grinned. With a chuckled, she continued.

“Besides, it’s nothing super important. I just maybe… kinda… might think I’m in love?” Belphegor did a double take.

“You might be… what?” “Okay head me out Belphie-“ Belphegor shook his head in shock. His little sister? In love? With who? What were they like? Likes and dislikes? How old? So on and so forth. Questions ran through his mind a mile a minute.

“Before you ask ANY questions, they’re younger than me, super nice and take my wants into consideration, cares for nature, and is just the sweetest person I’ve met. They even cook and clean and can sew and even crochet! Isn’t that just amazing…” Lilith immediately looked away from her brother, clutching the letter she was holding to her chest.

Belphegor figured the letter might be from the person in question, so in a moment of selfishness - to which he knew he would pray about later - , grabbed the letter from her, causing a gasp from his sister.

She immediately complained, pushing at her brother to get it back, but he stood up and held her back with one arm, reading the letter aloud.

“- Don’t worry about the bruise, it isn’t nothing to worry about. Anyway, those Celestial flowers you brought me are doing wonderfully. You were right, all they needed was a bit more sunlight than the regular flower, like a sunflower. Might show you the sunflower field I found the other day if you want. Don’t feel rushed to come back down, however. And please say thank you to Yael for making the trip to and fro. Glory to The Father, may he smile upon us. Goodbye, my dove.

- A.E.”

Belphegor looked at his sister who was flushed in embarrassment. She had given up fighting in the middle of his reading the end of the letter, and was sitting on her heels on her bed.

“A.E.? What kind of name is that? And why are they acting as though they don’t live here? “Those Celestial flowers you brought me are doing wonderfully.”? That’s not something someone who is here would say, Lilith. Just who is this?” Belphegor looked to his sister whose blush had disappeared by then.

She sighed as she looked to her brother, gaze clouded for a moment before huffing again.

“If I tell you… promise to not tell anyone?” Lilith’s voice was uncannily soft compared to her usual loud and outgoing self. A little uneasy with her sudden change in tone, Belphegor nodded.

Lilith hesitated and opened her mouth, then shut it, then thrust her hand into her brother’s chest, pinkie out turned.

“Pinkie promise?” Lilith’s eyes held… worry? Fear? Belphegor couldn’t read it well but whatever it was it immediately sent signals off in his head.

“Yeah… yeah of course.” Belphegor held out his hand with pinky extended, wrapping it around hers.

“I may have… gone to the Garden?.. And talked to a…” she hesitated, “human..?” Belphegor looked to his sister with now widened eyes.

“You went to… the Garden? Like, THE Garden? Of… Eden? Where the… humans live?” Belphegor spoke their name like a taboo, which made Lilith cringe.

He knew why, humans were still relatively new and were more or less a hot topic. Either you never spoke a word or they were all you could talk about. They were something of a passion project, as was rumored. Something that was aloud to have varied results, and more importantly:

To make mistakes.

The was the supposed “beauty” of what would soon be humanity.

Or so Belphegor was told, anyway.

He never got it, as the Virtue of Diligence, it was literally ingrained in his being to always be alert to any mistakes and correct them as quickly as possible, to ensure everything ran smoothly. Sure, sometimes a mistake could prove to be beneficial, but more often than not, that was untrue.

So how an entire race could be conceived from the idea of mistakes propelling them was… Belphegor just couldn’t understand.

So to hear his sister, LITTLE sister mind you, had gone down and… interacted with those things?? He was a little upset but… her eyes.

Lilith’s eyes shined with a wonder he hadn’t seen in them in a while, life finally growing bland after their millions of years of existence. She had something new, and it clearly brought her happiness. Who was he to take that from her.

In the grand scheme of things it didn’t affect her work to much, and Father had never explicitly told them to stay away…

“Does this human seem to have any intentions of hurting you?-“ “NO!”

Lilith raised her eyes and flinched back in indignation at the words, looking offended, a hand landed on her chest.

“They would never! I’m impressed you’d even say such a thing!” Chuckles rung from her as she began to kick her legs slightly, covering her mouth with a hand. Belphegor smiled.

This may not have been his favorite predicament, but she was happy. Perhaps he could give these humans a chance.

…

This would be his first time making a “mistake”.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍡🍬🍩୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Years went by and Lilith’s visits to you didn’t stop.

Nearly every weekend was spent with you, sharing stories and otherwise. You’d taught her a few tricks of your trade as well, such as sewing and wood carving.

All was well.

Of course, until it wasn’t.

Yael, the Angel you and Lilith had trusted to take your messages to and from each other, had “crumbled under the pressure” and told a higher up. Who told someone higher than them, who told someone higher than them and well…

You hadn’t seen or heard from Lilith is weeks.

You were getting worried, but you had no way of getting to the Celestial Realm to check on her. So you waited.

And waited…

And… waited…

Lilith, meanwhile, was trying her hardest to convince the others to allow her back down into the Garden.

she had been forbidden, Angels weren’t meant to meddle in the affairs of mortals unless explicitly instructed too, after all. The Realm was still figuring out the logistics of Guardians, so no one Angel - without permission - was allowed down there.

Lilith begged and cried and sobbed, doing everything in her power to convince them that she deserved to go back down. That nothing had truly changed or happened. That’s she hadn’t fully interfered with the mortals.

All it took was an image of your now sullen face staring at the sky awaiting her return for the council to agree that she would never again be allowed to see you again.

She had exposed you too much.

You’d most likely not move on for years.

And she sobbed.

Her brothers had never seen her cry like this.

She fell to her knees and sobbed and pleaded with the council to reconsider, to give her another chance;

To at least allow her to say goodbye.

All requests were denied.

And her brothers were forced to watch her fall into something they had only heard from Demons, a “Depression”.

No longer did she go on spontaneous adventures, nor did she make jokes or try anything new.

It was simply work, eat, sleep, and staring longingly at the gifts you had given her.

Her colors dulled as time went on, and she slowly lost her glow.

Lucifer just couldn’t take it.

He tried to reason with the council. Asking them time and time again.

Always getting denied.

He only got more desperate as days past and she got duller and duller…

And finally he snapped.

Lucifer didn’t know how it happened. Once second he was asking peacefully.

The next he was chocking someone.

He let go after regaining control of his body, breathing heavily and palms shaking. After which a shouting match broke out.

And soon after that meeting, things only got worse.

Chocking turned to punching, punching turned to full on fighting, and fighting turned to the first angelic death by angelic hands in history.

Then the declaration of war.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍪🎂🧁୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

The days seemed to pass like a blur to you.

From days filled with planing of what new thing you could introduce to Lilith and where you could take her, now filled with the monotony of what like was before.

Farming, hunting, animal watching.

Barely did you touch your loom or carving tools, only when you needed a new utensil or blanket.

You hated it.

You missed her smile, and her laugh.

You sighed as you polished off another deer skull, taking a hammer and smashing it across a rock. Picking up the pieces, you take them to a small plot of land and begin to bury them beneath the tilled dirt.

though your eyes immediately met those of a dove, and you smiled.

“I’ll wait as long as you need, dove.”

It fluttered softly onto your upturned hand, cooing softly at you. Your eyes softened and you ran your free hand through the feathers on its head.

“As long as you need.”

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍮🎂🍩୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Years passed without much thought.

You remained oblivious to the war raging on above you.

Angels blood was technically on your hands and you couldn’t be the wiser.

Masses fell into their graves, simply because you needed to morn.

And now here you were, staring into the sky in shock as you watched the body of the woman you loved streaked across it, obviously mortally wounded.

You cried, and with a yelp, leapt into action, rushing behind her as she fell.

Your weapons discarded, you ran through rivers, jumped over rocks and basically glided through fields, all to catch her.

You barely noticed when you left The Garden.

Rocks dug into the skin of your feet but that was the least of your worries as you screamed her name, begging the Father to wake you from this awful nightmare.

Your arms raised high to catch her, begging her to please land in your grasp, barely paying attention to the cliff before you-

You fell.

You had never fallen from such a hight before.

Your long hair billowed through the wind with your clothes as you watched through tears as she hit the earth.

Then you hit a cliff.

A *SNAP* rang through the air as you landed on your back, head over the edge, perfectly positioned to see her and her… brother?

Two other men came as your breathing shallowed, a conversation you were too far away to hear taking place before you, before the man with the leathery wings performed some kind of spell, and her body ignited in a flame.

Your vision grew blurry as blood seeped from your mouth, coughs mixed with crimson bubbles escaping your lips as she disappeared. Her brother - who you realized was Lucifer, though his color pallet was much different than what she described - kneeled before the men.

With what little strength you had left, you clasped your hands together.

‘My Father who art above, please heed this prayer. Let be me reborn and find my love once more. Let us continue to be the star crossed lovers we believed ourselves to be. Please Father… and if one must be punished let it be me, for I had forsaken her from your land when my mortal lips met hers. Allow me this repentance and… let me… see… her once… mo…r…’

Your thoughts were silenced as you slipped away.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍪🍯🍫୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

You hated that prick in the sky.

You had given Him your everything, pledged yourself to Him.

You thought He was merciful, well apparently not.

Hundreds of thousands of fucking years.

You’ve had to watch her descendants live their lives, always finding a way to bump into them.

If this was His idea of a cosmic joke, then you wanted to bash your fucking skull in.

I mean, you’ve tried but he made you immortal on top of everything.

You had been reborn, as you asked, then to find that she’d been reborn as a human too. Great! You even had all your memories so you assumed she had her and…

…

…And then you were getting invited to her wedding as her ‘best friend’.

Never did you ever think you could’ve experienced a pain like that, like your soul shattering and being crumbled into dust but there you were. Watching her get wed off.

And have children.

And die.

You grew numb after a while, because why wouldn’t you. Seeing them grow became a past time, seeing where they ended up and then how many people attended their funerals.

Morbid game but it helped pass the time.

You got to watch as humans evolved and took over the planet, eventually coming to a point where they might destroy it if they aren’t careful.

You’ve watched technology grow and tack over and magic users be forced into hiding.

You’ve watched kingdoms rise and fall, nations grow and shrink, the belief of Angels and Devils become lesser and lesser.

You remember when Solomon, the big bitch of magic users and demon pact collector extraordinaire, was born. That was fun.

You remember when The King of the Devildom went to sleep, that was also neat, though you’re pretty sure that happened just a while before you died… time was a blur.

And naturally, you remembered when the brothers officially became “The Demon Brothers.”

You never forgot.

When out with “friends” - they were more people you surrounded yourself with to numb the pain of life - you just said you had Hyperthymesia, which led to more questions and other shit you couldn’t be bothered with.

The Father only know how many times you’ve gone through Highschool and Collage for the hell of it, there was shit else to do and at this point you were a hidden billionaire with how long you lived, plus it was nice to stay up to date on current affairs.

You had cut and dyed your hair same near every color under the sun at the this point, now at (h/c) for the time being.

One of the shittiest parts, however, was your morals.

The Father must’ve thought he was the funniest fucker in reality because he basically singed the Seven Virtues onto your soul, the on top of that made you the living example of the Seven Sins.

You couldn’t do shit without feeling torn apart.

Couldn’t spend large amount of money on yourself without feeling the need to give it away, but when you did you just wanted more money.

Never got a good nights sleep anymore because part of your brain would want to stay up to make sure nothing bad happened.

Couldn’t gouge yourself on a mountain of food without wanting to hurl halfway through because it “was enough”.

So life was shit in every way.

And then, the fucking cherry on top?

When a friend - who you knew full well was a decadent of her - got a letters from the Devildom about some “exchange program”. They tossed it because they thought it was a scam, which was fair.

You only read it out of curiosity, and when you say your jaw dropped? I mean it fucking dropped.

You knew all about Diavolo’s little “re-connection” thing, had since he announced it really, but to see it actually coming to light was… an experience you weren’t expecting.

Honestly you didn’t want them to go.

This descendent, MC was their name - such a weird fucking name - was one of your favorites. They were a chaotic little shit and you lived for it. Unless you had to pull them from a problem they caused. Then you didn’t.

But soon you got involved with their shit and completely forgot.

And there you were when they got sucked to hell, hand in hand…

… Also handcuffed but we don’t talk about that-

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍯🍡🍫୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

“AW FUCK-“

“SHITTY TITTES AUGH-“

Both you and MC gripped each other, them screaming and you gritting your teeth with arms around them to protect them.

It took a second for them to stop and you to finally look up.

Before you was a judges seat with eight seats, five of which were filled. Though, a man stood beside the tallest standing seat.

Wait…

Orange, blond, strawberry blond, ravenette, red head - literally, and deep blue to teal?

Oh fuck-

The man in the tallest seat began to speak.

“Welcome to the Devildom MC… and friend?”

Diavolo looked down at the two of you, MC looking confused and you well… you looked uncomfortable but not unknowing.

“We can deal with that in a moment but, pardon my abrupt introduction. Feeling a bit shocked, I’m sure? Well that’s understandable, you’ve only just arrived, after all.”

MC looked around at the men confused and obviously scared while you just sighed with a hand pressed to your forehead. MC tried to stand only to trip back when the cuffs holding you both together. You noticed some of the brothers staring at you two, but you looked away. Diavolo seemed to ignore you both, however.

“As a human, it will probably take a little while for you to adjust to things here in the Devildom.”

“What the fuck is a Devildom-“ MC was cut off by a glare from Lucifer.

“Haha! Calm yourself Lucifer they were just asking a question! Now, before we introduce ourselves, who are you?”

You glanced over at the male and glanced at everyone else. Tugging on your shirt and running your hand through your hair, you finally met Diavolo’s eyes again.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍩🍭🍦୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

“Now I call you dove, you ain’t got any kinda name f’ me?”

You both were sat on a cliff you had just recently found overlooking your home with a great view of the sky and sun, which was setting at the moment. She was sat beside you, head on your shoulder with you both in the grass. A small wind blew through, making your hair wave like a sea of gold. She ran a hand through your hair, you humming at the feeling.

Your easygoing grin made Lilith’s heart melt, but she focused up back on your question after a moment, humming.

“Well… I want it to mean something.” “Dove means somethin’!” Lilith giggled.

“Oh yeah, and what would that be?” “Well you’re an Angel… n’ doves are connected ta Angels n’ stuff…” you groaned after, shoving your face in your hands, causing the Angels laughter to grow.

“Don’t laugh at me! It was cute how you reacted when I first called ya it!” Lilith continued to laugh, you whining and wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling close and placing her head on your chest. Then, you grabbed her face in a huff. You forced her to stare at you as she bit her tongue with blush on her cheeks.

Finally you both broke out into laughter, her falling onto you. You both fell back into the grass giggling. She laid on top of you and you both breathed and took the moment in.

“… I think I have an idea.”

You glanced at her. Wrapping your arms around her waist, you pulled her up and rested your head on top of her hers. She nuzzled into your neck.

“Idea for what, dove?” “A nickname.”

You smiled and looked down at her, causing her to look up.

“Well then get on with it, I’m excited as a cow to a good wooden post.” “A what… to a what?” “Heh, nothin’ dove.”

She smiled and snuggled into you.

“I think you deserve your own name. Not what they call you up there. Something like…”

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🎂🍩🍯୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

You stared Diavolo in the eyes, and smiled somberly.

“…(y/n).”

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : WOOO FINALLY I FUCKING FINISHED IT WOOOOOOO-

This has been sitting in my drafts for fucking months :)

Yes this will be getting a part two this is for me I’m the target audience-

My fucking hands man… they hurt-

Please god tell me someone appreciates this-

… is this my longest fic?-

#Obey me #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me lilith #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me x reader #x reader #x gn reader #x yn #x gn y/n #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me x gn!reader #Adam/Eve!Reader

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its-actually-minicika · 2 years ago

Text

The Harshest Winters (18+!)

Part 4;;

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

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

Word Count: 15k+ (wowza i know)

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

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

A war is in its midst.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The fool had been reached by an arrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t need a maid to help me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A sympathetic look was shared between them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For a while, Time herself froze before them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Comparing him to Jacaerys was a laughable feat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, he knew it was too soon for that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… Were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

The rest of the night was spent in washed quietness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Family feuds were neither one's strongest suit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nearby the aching knight, Lady Arryn renowed her position.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, my lady."

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

"Yes, my lady. The very one."

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

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

"... Aye, my lady."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

How lovely it was to sit between comfort and chaos.

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

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

So he was softening up.

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

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

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

Your Grace. Your Grace. Your Grace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was too sober for this.

Lucaerys, Jacaerys, Cain.

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

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

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

"... Aemond."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wanted to feel something.

She wanted…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Aemond."

"(Y/N)."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She could almost pretend that he was Jace.

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

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

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

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

She had uttered the words aloud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A starved meowl left her panting lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A moment she would forever grow to resent.

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

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

"Liar." Aemond rasped in acknowledgment.

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

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

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

"What are you d–"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hen lantoti ānogar. Va sỹndroti vāedroma."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sỹndroro öñö jēdo. Rỹ kīvia mazvestraksi."

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

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

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

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

"NO!"

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

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

"Fuck your fucking pledge."

Some grand venue she received.

A single question hung loosely into the air.

"Are you going to rape me now?"

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

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

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

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

***

Sometime along the night, he left.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nyke gīmigon, Vhagar. Gīmigon."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Word in Harrenhal traveled fast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Greens would die. They would face trial.

The Greens.

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

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

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

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

The clock was ticking.

And she was running out of time.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he sorry for what he did?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lack of air. And crippling fear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her relief would be short lived.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"This way, (Y/N) – came quickly!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"My Lady, do not stray far –"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"My place remains here. By his side."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taglist:

Translations:

Gevie… = Beautiful;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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