#armor she shall get

[simple-persica]

I got sidetracked from something I was working on and decided to do Freyja, so here's my concept page for her.

[fereldanwench]

i'm commander shepard valerie and fem v friday is my favorite day of the week 😘

mods: N7 armor for femV | hair ⚠️ do not reupload or edit my shots without my permission ⚠️

[mbat]

man im still thinking about flurry heart opaline. i should think even more about it

[euthymiya]

khaenriahn princess reader x knight capitano ; jealous capitano ; implied hidden relationship ; pre cataclysm ; royal au ; capitano is not cursed yet so his skin is supple and youthful ; banter and fluff

“There is word, my lady,” his voice says lowly. You hum, reaching over to grab at his helmet. Capitano gently captures your hand before you can, pulling it away from its path to uncover his face. There’s a fleeting frown on your lips, but it’s gone as soon as he brings it up and presses a small, delicate kiss to the knuckles through the dark cloth that hides him from you.

“Oh? What of, my dear knight?” You ask curiously. Something tells him it’s almost mockingly innocent.

“That there is a rather…determined prince seeking your hand in marriage.”

Sometimes, it feels unfair that very rarely do you get to see the face hidden underneath the armor, but you suppose you don’t need to see Capitano to know exactly what emotion is twisted in his face. You fight back an amused grin—his voice tells you all you need to know.

You’re certain he must taste his own bitterness as the words fall from his tongue.

“Such grand news,” you gasp, “and yet…you speak with such hesitation. Has this news not brought you joy, my captain?”

“Forgive me, my lady,” he says unamused, voice low and just shy of a grumble, “I value your wellbeing above all. Should a capable prince ask for your hand, I would be most delighted if that is what you accept.”

“You do not sound delighted at the idea,” you tease.

“Perhaps my lady has not given me reason to think she would be interested in such a proposition,” he mutters.

This time, his voice does, in fact, sound the slightest bit petulant—like a child who sulks after being scolded. His tone is usually one that is far too courteous. Painfully so, in fact. (You’ve spent a good number of exasperating moments insisting he be more casual with you. You reap the rewards of those efforts few and far in between). But now, he betrays himself with a flicker of frustration, far too evidently for even you to miss.

He realizes too late how childish the words must sound spoken so irritably. You can tell that he clenches his jaw, seeing the tension even under the mask as he forces himself to still the bitterness spreading through his veins.

“Tell me, my dear knight,” you grin. You can imagine the unhappy lift of his brow as you speak, “what makes you so certain I would be disinterested in such an enticing offer?”

“It seems my assumptions were incorrect,” he grunts, straightening his back before promptly adding, “forgive me, my lady. I must see to rather urgent military affairs. I shall be seeing you—”

“Jealousy is unbecoming on you, Sir Capitano,” you quip, your hand grabbing at his wrist, tugging him towards you. He stills, stiff as a statue as your hand reaches for his helmet once more.

This time, he doesn’t stop you. He allows the lithe, delicate fingers he knows so well to grab at the edge of his helmet, carefully tugging it off before his face slowly reveals itself to you. You smile, cupping a cheek before tracing your thumb along the soft skin of his face.

“I am not jealous,” he says stubbornly.

“Haven’t they taught you never to lie to a princess?” You hum, stepping closer. His lips twitch just a fraction at the edges before two strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you towards him. Flush against his chest. Tucked right against his heart. Pressed so close, you almost wonder if you could feel his heart beating through the armor if you paid close enough attention.

“You torment me, my lady,” he murmurs quietly, “I fear I cannot accept this arrangement. It would tear through my soul to watch you be wed to another.”

“Then do not watch me,” you whisper.

You have seen his eyes flicker with soft, warm affection countless times. There is beauty underneath the helmet he wears so often, beauty that not many are so fortunate to see. You see it often, though. In private, hidden moments that he affords you. In the quiet of your chambers where the maids cannot disturb you. In the corners of the palace where no one can interrupt your fleetingly lingering touches and longing gazes.

Your hands hold his face, slowly pulling him closer as you study every precious slope across his skin. The slightly jagged curve of his nose. The plumpness of his lips. The slant of his sharp cheekbones. Every feature you know by heart, and revisit in your dreams.

You smile lightly at the thought of his jealousy, as guilty as you should feel for teasing him. Your knight—and you, his beloved princess.

“Do you wish to marry a prince?” He asks, leaning into your neck, breathing in your scent as his nose trails up your jaw until it reaches your cheek. Your breath hitches. His lips quirk into a smile.

“I wish to marry someone who owns my heart,” you say breathlessly, “prince or not.”

“Perhaps what you need is someone who is far more capable of carrying the weight of your heart. You possess rather discerning taste—it is not easy to please you, my lady.”

You huff, glaring at him from the corner of your eyes as you ask, “do you mean to call me difficult?”

“Among other things,” he chuckles. There’s a light, teasing trail of kisses pressed to your skin, leading straight to your lips. Capitano knows exactly what he’s doing, though—he stops just at the corner of them, making you pout as you try to lean in and close the gap.

He grins smugly, pulling away just enough to create distance between your mouths.

“You should not toy with a princess,” you say, displeased.

He hums, rubbing the small of your back as he counters, “and you should not toy with the heart of a man devoted to you.”

“Forgive me, my dear knight,” you murmur, gently bringing his face closer as your hands cradle his face once more, “I shall not torment you with such teasing again.”

“I am most grateful, your highness,” he fights back a chuckle.

Jealousy is unbecoming on someone as noble as the captain of your military forces. You like the way it looks on him just a little, anyway. Love the way his posture is more rigid and his voice is sharper when forced to consider the possibility of your heart yearning elsewhere. Enjoy the way he holds you tighter and closer as cool armor steals your warmth.

“Shall I tell this prince I am not interested?” You ask with a knowing look.

He hums thoughtfully, a smug smile playing on his lips as he replies, “no, I think I’d rather witness the expression of his highness when he realizes his charms hold no sway over you—a rare defeat for a man so certain of his allure.”

“Someday I shall marry you, my dear knight,” you whisper. Finally, with a softened look, he leans in to kiss you. Slow. Delicate. So gentle, it almost feels like you are one whisper from the wind away from falling apart.

“I look forward to it, my lady. Not even celestia could stop me from claiming your hand.”

————————

The last line is a big rip if you know what I mean 😔

[depresseddepot]

I'm chewing on the walls bc my dm hasn't seen my question about my character's backstory yet and I am trying SO HARD to keep myself on the rails and not run off with something I'm not even allowed to do yet

[sena-seastar]

Heart to Heart

Aemond x Wife Reader

Summary: Aemond spends time with your child so that you can have a much-needed break.

A/N: I'm back with more, Dad!Aemond, because I adore him so much. Aemond deserves someone who will love him as deeply and unconditionally as he loves them, and his baby definitely would. (Also, any dialogue in italics means the characters are speaking in high valyrian. I was too lazy to attempt to translate it.) No beta, so I apologize for any grammar and spelling mistakes.

“Daenys, please calm down,” you plead as you try to pacify the wailing girl.

Though your words seem to fall on deaf ears, she continues to scream and flail in your arms. You want nothing more than to join in as tears well in your eyes. You were at your wit's end. Nothing seemed to placate your child. Not even the sweets you had tried to bribe her with. 

The nursemaids had changed her nappy several times. They’ve tried feeding, bathing, offering toys, and even taking her for a walk in the gardens. Yet none of it worked. They brought her to you as a last resort, hoping she might be missing her mother. Unfortunately, their hopes went unfounded.

Daenys continued to thrash in your arms, and you struggled to keep a grip on her. She was surprisingly strong for someone so small. 

“Shh, it’s alright,” you coo, bouncing the fussy girl in your arms. “Are you tired? Shall we take a nap?”

Your questions only incite her fury. Daenys lets out an ear-splitting screech. You groaned, eyes closing in frustration at the situation. 

“How about we give your mother a break, hmm?”

You look up, finding your husband now standing before you. He takes your little girl into his arms, and for the first time in forever, she settles down. She doesn’t squirm and try to get away from him, and her wails turn into low whimpers and quiet hiccups. You watch as he handles her with such ease. Aemond pats her back and talks to her in a soothing voice, gently bouncing her in his arms. Daenys rested her head on his shoulder, her tiny fists held tightly onto his coat.

“I’m terrible at this,” you huffed, shame blooming in your chest. 

“No, you’re not.” Aemond leaned down, pressing a gentle, reassuring kiss to your head. “I’ll take her for a bit. Get some rest.”

You nod, grateful for his help. He waves Daenys’ hand towards you as they leave. You wave back until the pair disappear from your view. You sigh in relief as your body slumps onto the Grecian couch beneath you. You debate whether to continue with your book or take a quick nap.

-

Aemond holds Daenys close to his chest as he maneuvers himself off his saddle. Ser Rickard Thorne stands to the side, wearing his freshly polished armor and pristine white cloak. Aemond nods at him, and the white knight quickly takes Aemond’s horse by the reins, leading the horse away.

The dragon lord looked down, watching Daenys as she toyed with the wooden dragon in her hands. He smiled. The familiar warm fuzzy feeling that filled his entire body every time he laid his eyes on her returned. It was hard to believe that something so beautiful and innocent could come from him. But here she was. The two of you had created something- someone so precious. 

A loud grumble sounded in the air. Aemond lifted his head, observing Vhagar. The giant dragon was hard to miss, even from a great distance.

The overgrown grass and twigs squish and cackle beneath his boots as he walked into the open field where the ancient she-dragon resided. Vhagar had outgrown the dragonpit years before he had even claimed her. Vhagar turned her giant head to the side, watching them as they approached. She shut her eyes again when she realized it was just him.

Daenys let out a delighted squeal when her eyes finally landed on the giant dragon. Aemond struggled to hold her as she excitedly kicked her legs and waved her arms. Aemound cursed under his breath as the wooden dragon toy fell to the ground. Oh well, he would retrieve it later.

“What is it, my little dragon?” He asked enthusiastically. “What do you see?”

 Daenys clapped her little hands and babbled, “Vava!”

“Vhagar? Do you see Vhagar?”

She looks up to him and nods her head. Her violet eyes lock onto his, and the two smile at each other. Aemond planted a kiss on the girl’s temple, gaining sweet, girlish giggles in response.

“Very good, my little dragon. It is Vhagar.”

Daenys begins to squirm in his arms and tries to push him away.

“What is it? Do you want down?”

Aemond looks down at the grass, checking for any potential dangers. Your little girl grunts and continues to try to push him away.

Aemond huffs, “Alright, alright.”

His lips curve downward into a slight frown. The two of you had been very proud and excited when Daenys started walking. However, Aemond was a little saddened by the fact that his sweet little girl didn’t want to be in his arms all the time anymore.

His mother had told him that it’s normal for them to want to be more independent when they start walking. The man understood that, but he still did not like it one bit.

Aemond carefully lowers the little girl to her feet. Her chubby little fingers hold onto his hands as she tries to stabilize herself. When she finally stops wobbling, she lets go. Aemond’s heart races in his chest as he watches her take a small, shaky step forward. His hands immediately reach out to grab her, but he stops himself.

Daenys takes another step; this time, she’s a bit more stable. She holds her arms out, trying to balance her weight as she trots forward. Aemond follows closely behind. With each step, he felt a twinge of panic in his chest. The man struggled not to swoop her into his arms every time she stumbled.

Thankfully, they made it to Vhagar rather quickly. Vhagar gave a small huff as Daenys small hands smacked against her snout. 

“Gentle,” Aemond warned sternly, well aware of his dragon's short temper. 

The man kneeled next to her. He took one of Daenys little hands into his own, showing her how to pet Vhagar’s snout carefully. Daenys let out another excited squeal that made Aemond wince. 

“Yes,” he nodded. “It’s very exciting, but we must be quiet.”

Daenys pulled her hand away from his, wanting to try it alone. Vhagar remained still, resting lazily on her chin. Aemond stood back up. He rested his large palm against her warm green scales with a joyous smile. She truly is a sight to behold.

Vhagar was the largest and fiercest dragon in the world. Nothing could stand against her. And yet she decided that he, of all people, was worthy of her. That he deserved the privilege to call himself her rider. No one could question or deny his worth now.

“Vava, pay?”

Aemond looked down, watching as his little girl tried to get the dragon’s attention. Her silver curls fell onto her face. The man reached down, pushing the strands of hair behind her ears. He felt a bit sorry for her. Vhagar was nowhere near as active as Daenys' little hatchling, who resided in the dragon pit. She did not flap her wings or let out any shrieks of excitement like Daenys’ hatchling did when they saw each other.

Daenys tugged on his coat. She turned her head up to look at him. Her brows were drawn together, and her bottom lip protruded further than her top lip. The look on her face tugged at his heartstrings.

“Play? No, Vhagar does not want to play.”

Your little girl does not seem to accept his answer. She turns her attention back to the dragon, gently petting her scales a few more times. Daenys tries calling out to her again, but Vhagar still gives no response. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea. Aemond initially planned to take her to the dragon pit, but he decided against it. Mostly because he wanted to come out and visit Vhagar. He could seldom go a day without coming to see his winged companion. 

Suddenly, a loud grumble echoed in Vhagar’s throat. The dragon, finally having enough of the child’s affection, raised her head. Daenys, who was balancing herself on Vhagar’s head, fell back, landing on her bottom with a loud oomph.

“Lykirī, Vhagar. Lykirī,” Aemond commanded as he swiftly took Daenys into his arms.

Vhagar did not move, nor did she make a sound. The ancient dragon merely eyed the two of them. When Aemond felt confident enough that she would not act, he turned his attention to Daenys.

The look on her face is heart-wrenching. Her wide eyes filled with tears, and her trembling lips stretched into a deep frown. Her breath hitched as she tried not to cry. It makes Aemond feel like he wants to cry as well. He pressed a kiss to the child’s temple.

“Don’t cry, my little love. You’ll be alright.” He tried to reassure her.

She blinks, and tears fall from her violet eyes. Sad, quiet whimpers escape from her lips. Tears started to well up in Aemond’s eye, his breath quivered, and a lump formed in his throat. He was never one to cry. It made him feel weak and small, something he despised more than anything. 

But when his little girl was upset like this, he wanted to cry. Sometimes, he still wanted to cry even when she wasn’t upset. There were many times when he would just watch her while she played or slept, and then suddenly, he would be hit with a massive wave of emotions. Aemond wondered if Viserys had ever felt that way when he looked at him or any of his siblings.

Vhagar let out a loud huff. A wave of hot air engulfs Aemond and Daenys. Aemond looks up, observing Vhagar carefully. The green dragon lowers her head, gently nudging her snout against the crying girl. Aemond raises his hand to wipe away Daenys’ tears.

“Look, she’s sorry for making you sad.”

Daenys sniffled and turned to look at Vhagar. The corners of her mouth turned upwards. She giggled as she rested her forehead against Vhagar’s snout. Her little arms did their best to hug the dragon’s giant head. 

Aemond chuckled lightly, raising his hand to give Vhagar a few rewarding pats. His chest was bursting with pride as he watched his favorite girls interact. The only one who was missing was you.

[nebulaafterdark]

The Succession

Summary: After the battle of Rook’s Rest, Queen Y/N is forced to rule alongside Prince Regent Aemond, in an attempt to keep her children safe and eventually seat her mother, Rhaenyra, on the throne. While attending her husband, on what appears to be his deathbed, she begins to unravel the dark truth of his near passing.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

“Behold, the traitor dragon, Meleys. Slain by King Aegon.”

Cole might’ve bellowed anything before the mention of Y/N’s husband and she would not have heard it. Breaching the castle doors, out onto the streets, where the smallfolk stare in wonder. The Queen has scarcely been seen in the days following her husband’s accession, leaving many to wonder if she still lives.

Here she stands, in the flesh, walking about them like a commoner. “Where is Aegon?” She finds Ser Criston, keeping pace beside his horse.

“You mustn’t be about, your grace. It is not safe.”

“Where is my husband?”

Ser Gwayne looks back toward his fallen nephew, now carried by men.

“No,” Y/N shakes her head, falling in line with the oversized box one might mistake for a casket. She can’t see much of anything through the slats.

“You must return to the castle, my Queen.” Cole circles back for her. “His Grace will need you at his side.”

“He’s alive?” Y/N breathes.

“When last I checked.”

She nods, remaining beside her husband as he is carted into the castle, up the stairs to his chambers. The maesters await him, peeling away armor and bits of charred flesh with it, to reveal the extent of his injuries.

“Is my son going to die?” Alicent asks.

“He is badly burned.” The maester informs the Queen dowager.

“Men survive burns.” Y/N says, holding a hand to her belly, attempting to quell the churning.

“He has many broken bones.”

“Bones heal.”

The grand maester sighs, “that is our hope, your grace.”

What lies beneath his breastplate is naught but more red, angry skin, or lack there of. Alicent comes round to Y/N, a rare occasion, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Mayhaps it is best you step away.”

“I will stay,” Y/N shakes her head, “if anything happens… I must stay.” Hold his hand as he goes, if it comes to it.

Alicent nods, withdrawing.

Aegon’s breathing is something awful. Men survive burns. Bones heal.

An eternity passes in that room, on bated breath. Eventually the maesters begin clearing out, leaving the King to mutter, incoherently.

“Your grace.” The grand maester turns to Y/N. “It is done.”

“Thank you, Grand Maester. For all you have done, I- I owe you a debt.”

The man takes her hand, “we can only do so much to aid in the king’s healing, I believe it is you he needs. Be his strength.”

Y/N nods, “of course.” She makes herself comfortable upon the mattress beside him as the doors close, giving them a moment alone.

Aegon’s mumblings grow louder, though still impossible to make sense of.

“Shhh,” Y/N hushes him, brushing hair from his face. “There is nothing to fear. You need only…get better for me. I will tend the council shortly, but I shall return.”

He quiets then, as though her gentle reassurance is all he wanted.

“I will not abandon you. Not now, not ever. Rest easy, my love. You are safe now.” She presses a kiss to his forehead, before taking the stairs down to join the small council.

Those sitting around the table are already in deep discussion, gaping at the Queen’s entrance, standing to greet her.

“So kind of you to wait for me, my lords.” Y/N smiles, taking her ball from the center.

“We thought you might be with his grace, the king.” The hand explains. “He will be expecting you when he wakes.”

“I am not sure he will ever wake.” The grand maester cuts in. “His fate lies with the gods now.”

“Give it time.” Y/N sniffs, “it has been mere hours since his return.”

“If Aegon could wake, he would have done so for you.” Alicent decides. “A king cannot rule in his sleep, we must appoint a regent to serve in his absence.”

“I am awake.” Y/N reminds them.

“My Queen,” Tyland Lannister interjects, “if I may be so bold. Your lord husband has been wounded in battle, he will need your tender hand if we hope him to make any sort of recovery.”

“That is very thoughtful of you, Lord Tyland.” Y/N replies, in a measured tone. Should she lose her head before the council, there will be no coming back from it. “Still, I am willing and able to rule.”

“In the event of his grace’s untimely death, we must be prepared to proceed with the succession.”

“Understandably, and we do not lack heirs. My husband and I have four children.” Y/N shifts in her chair. “Assuming, as you have, that the men of the realm will never accept a woman on the throne, we then pass the crown to our first born son.” To charm the snakes, you must behave as a snake.

The council looks to each other. “Prince Laenor is but two years of age, our next ruling king, by law; though too young to presently serve.”

“I will advise him, I am his mother.”

Alicent rises from her seat, “might I humbly suggest myself? I have already done so during my late husband’s long illness-”

“Which was fine then?” Y/N arches a brow, “a wife to rule in her husband’s absence.”

Alicent lowers her gaze. “This is different.”

“Because I am your enemy’s daughter and named heir,” Y/N huffs. “Rules for thee, not for me. Isn’t that right?”

“Mind yourself.”

“Or what?” Y/N lifts a shoulder, “you will usurp my husband, as you did my mother?”

“Viserys changed his mind.” Alicent says, with finality. “I am sorry for what’s happened, but with his dying breath, he wished for Aegon to be king. I pray you do not hear a similar whisper from your husband anytime soon.”

“I love my husband,” Y/N seethes, “let that be known.”

“Of course, my Queen.”

“Whatever the members of this council intend to do now will be spoken plainly, in my presence.” Y/N demands, staring down at her wedding ring.

“I believe it is in our best interest to appoint Prince Aemond as Regent, until our King has been restored.” Ser Criston announces, “as hand, I know the king’s greatest concern is the safety and well being of his wife and children. We must honor that, in these unprecedented times.”

Y/N swallows, “very well.”

“My Queen.” Aemond reaches past her for the council ball, abandoned by her husband.

————————————————————————

Y/N goes through the motions, putting their children to bed. All is well, my darlings. Father needs only rest. When they have each found sleep, she returns to Aegon. Speaking to him the same way she always has, as though he can hear.

“The men of the council are restless in your absence. They circle like vultures now,” Y/N chokes out, touching the unmarred skin of his face. “And I am alone in this….I have never been alone.”

If she knew no better, she could swear his fingers twitch against hers. Mayhaps she is gripping them too tightly. She releases his hand, much to Aegon’s dismay, grumbling his discontent.

“Hush now, I am here and you are here. The rest will sort,” Y/N reminds him.

She watches him then, the heaving rise and fall of his chest, wrapped in bandages. Men survive burns. Bones heal.

In time, Alicent joins her at Aegon’s side. “Has there been any change?”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head.

“You are kind to be here, he loves nothing in the world as he loves you. I am sure your presence alone is a comfort to him.”

“That is my hope,” Y/N admits.

“I will leave you to it.” Alicent offers a hint of a smile, making for the door.

“Mummy.”

Y/N hears it, his mother does not. “Alicent,” she calls her back.

Alicent flicks away tears before turning round, “what is it?”

“He’s asking for you.”

“F-for me?”

Y/N nods, giving his hand a squeeze.

Alicent returns to his bedside, passing a hand over the side of his face. “I’m here.”

He draws in a rattling breath, “protect her.” Aegon stumbles over the words. “Please, Mummy.”

Y/N inhales sharply, hushing him.

Alicent locks eyes with her daughter by law. I pray you do not hear a similar whisper from your husband anytime soon. “I will do this, for you, Aegon. You needn’t worry.”

Aegon says nothing else, succumbing to sleep once more.

Alicent excuses herself, with a nod.

Y/N muffles the sound of her cries in the hand which isn’t holding his. She’s only half awake by the time she hears footfall and whispering at the end of her husband’s bed.

“Was it worth the price?” Helaena asks.

“I’ve no idea what you mean, my darling.” Aemond mutters, brushing his lips against her cheek.

Part 2

[aemondapologistfrfr]

His Princess

fancast!bloody ben x targ!fem!reader

Summary: During Rhaenyras absence Jace and Baela deploy you out to deal with the Blackwoods and the Brackens, atop Silverwing. You treat with Lord Benjicot and prepare for a battle with the Brackens. You both can’t help the feelings that arise from working closely together.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, drinking, blood, blades, death(not mc), burning, foul language, political plotting, oral (f receiving), p in v

Authors Note: no bc i got caught up in the plot for a sec 😵‍💫, the rider dragon bond is diff than show, I would say I proofread this like 90%

Word Count: 6.2k

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

“I’m done fucking waiting.” Jace paces around the painted table cursing under his breath. Baela goes to Jaces side and offers him hushed words of support.

The council stares at Jace in anticipation to finally make an appearance in this war. Rhaenyra has been gone for days without so much as a word while Jace and Beala are getting eaten alive by the men surrounding this table. Daemon is doing Gods know what in Harrenhal while we’re on the brink of battle.

“The Riverlands grow restless, my Prince. The Blackwoods and Brackens are at each other’s throats. There’s been no word from Daemon so we must assume no one is there to rally them together.” Lord Massey states with a clipped tone.

“We must send a dragon to amass them to our cause. Or to help the Blackwoods defeat the Brackens. Regardless something needs to be done and soon.” Lord Celtigar nods his head and looks around at his fellow vultures.

“Y/N take Silverwing.” Jace turns to me. “Go to Raventree Hall. Speak with Bejicot Blackwood and do whatever it takes to get him and his men to join our other army. If you can get the Brackens to bend the knee: Great. If not: Burn them. We are done sitting aside in this war.” Jace says with a boisterous voice.

“I heartedly agree with this decision.” Lord Emmon nods his head along with the other Lords.

“Then I shall see you when I return victorious, brother.” I smile to Jace. “Sister.” I smile and nod to Baela before exiting the war room.

Once in my chambers I hastily pack a couple of bags. I change into my riding armor and place my sword in its sheath down my back. I dart down the stairs to greet Silverwing before anyone changes their mind on sending us out. My dragon and I have been itching to take to the skies and begin bending knees.

“Hello, my beautiful girl.” I coo as I approach her and offer her pats. “We’ve finally been given leave.” I say with a playful tone as she chuffs and turns to me.

I quickly mount her and she brings us to the lip of the cave. As she steps over the ledge she lets us free fall which always makes my heart drop. Her wings catch the breeze and we shoot forward as I wildly laugh while clinging to her.

During the flight to the Riverlands I keep my eyes peeled for any armys. I have yet to see anything concerning, but keep a vigilant watch nonetheless. We fly a couple miles away from Harrenhal, but we still faintly hear Caraxes high pitched song.

We thankfully hear no other dragons and have no vision on any army’s as we begin our approach on Raventree Hall. Silverwing circles the castle and gives out a fearsome cry before landing on the outskirts of the city walls. I leave my bags attached to the saddle incase I don’t receive the welcome I’m expecting. Once I make it to solid ground guards start to approach, but keep their distance as they take in my dragon hovering behind of me.

“I come as an extension of the Crown. I must speak with your Lord at once.” I look to the guards expectantly.

“And which Crown might that be?” one guard is brave enough to question me.

“The only rightful Crown. That sits atop my mother’s head. Queen Rhaenyra.” my tone clipped as I start to approach and then men back up.

“I’m sorry, Princess.” they all bow their heads deeply as they bend the knee to my mothers cause. “These are strange times.”

“Indeed.” I hum as I look down at them.

“I’ll go get Lord Benjicot.” one guard raises his head and rushes through the gate behind him.

I turn back to Silverwing and she seems to roll her eyes at the men behind of us. I climb back to retrieve my bags and offer her words of praise and thanks for a smooth flight. As I turn to dismount once more there is a handsome man looking up at me with a slack jaw. I look down at him with low lids and wicked smile.

“Who might you be?” I call down to him as I toss my bags next to him.

“Lord Benjicot Blackwood, Ben if you wish.” he calls up to me as he falls to his knees. I smirk as I slide down the side of Silverwing and stand in front of him as he continues to look at my boots.

“Rise, Ben.” I say hushed as his eyes travel up my body until they lock with mine.

“Is it too forward to say that I much like this position?” Ben offers me a wink and devilish smirk.

“Is that so?” I hum as I bring my hand to the side of his cheek. He grabs my hand with his own and brings it to his mouth to place a kiss on the back. He rises and towers above me never breaking our eye contact.

“What can I do for you, Princess?” he asks, smirk still plastered on his face.

“I wish to have an audience with you and your advisors in the council chambers.” I remove my hand from his and get to the more pressing matters. “I should also like live feed brought for my dragon. She’s hungry and I wouldn’t want her to pick through your men.” I looks to him expectantly waiting to be invited inside.

“Yes,” he clears his throat. “I’ll have some of my guards bring some cattle. Will she harm them?” he whispers the last part to me.

“Not unless they deserve it.” I chuckle as I grab my bags.

“Perfect.” Ben claps his hands together. “Then let’s have a meeting.” he takes my bags from my hands and leads me into the gate.

He hands my bags to servants and tells them to have them brought to the guest chambers. He leads me straight to the council chambers and offers me the seat next to him. Slowly members begin to filter into the room and once everyone takes their seat Ben rises.

“Gentlemen, this is Y/n Targaryen. Queen Rhaenyras first daughter. Rider of Silverwing.” he tells them, his words sounding like adoration.

“As I’m sure you’re all aware war is on the horizon, if not already here. After the battle of the burning mill it’s clear tensions have been high. I want to thank you for fighting in the name of my mother. I am here to ask you to pick up your swords for her again.” I look to all of them to read their expressions.

“What do you propose we do?” one of his advisors asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Call your banners and follow me and Silverwing to the Brackens. I shall ask them to bend the knee to the rightful Queen. If they refuse I shall burn them at your sides and we will continue on to meet the rest of our army to continue to battle and glory.” I say hoping they accept my more than generous offer.

“And what if the Brackens bend the knee? You expect us to fight alongside them?” another advisor speaks up, disgust heavy in his voice.

“I expect you to fight for your Queen.” my voice rises as I stand looking to him.

“We will fight for you. I’m just not sure if the Brackens share the same sentiment, Princess.” Ben adds, eyes shooting daggers to the advisor who spoke to me in such a manner.

“Then they’ll die.” I say flatly as I reclaim my seat.

“Then it’s settled.” Ben announces as no one else has any other grievances. “I’ll be able to have my men ready in two days time.” he nods his head to me.

“Excellent. I have nothing further to discuss at this moment.” I say waving my hand.

Ben dismisses his advisors and servants flood in and offer me beverages and food. I accept a cup of wine and sigh as I lean back into my chair. This went smoother than I anticipated, but I still think there will be work to do to prepare the Blackwoods before I ask the Brackens to bend the knee.

“I must send a raven to Dragonstone.” my eyes glide to Ben who has been staring at me.

“Yes, of course.” he rises from his chair quickly causing the legs to groan against the stone. “I’ll fetch you some parchment and ink.” he rushes out the door and leaves me blinking after him.

I scribble out a note to Jace and tell him of what’s happened and how I expect the meeting with the two hosts to go. I tell him I’ve secured the Blackwoods and intend to try my best with the Brackens but make no explicit promises. I seal it with red ink and hand it off directly to the maester.

“Allow me to show you to your chambers.” Ben says offering me his arm.

I look him over and decide it’s not terrible if I hang off of his arm like a simpering fool for a couple of days. There’s something alluring about him. I can feel the violence bubbling under the surface which excites me to no end. He begins to parade us down the halls with a ridiculous smile on his face as he looks down to every man we pass.

“Here we are, Princess.” he hums as we stop in front of a large set of double doors.

He opens the doors and escorts me in. I spot my bags on a chair near the freshly lit hearth. I peer into the bathing chambers and hum in appreciation at the small pool I have for a bath. Candles are lit throughout the chambers making them feel warm and inviting beside the dark stone and wood.

“I’ll admit I’m surprised you brought me to my own chambers and not yours.” I turn to Ben smiling as I see his cheeks redden.

“Is that disappointment I hear?” Ben cocks his head, matching my smile.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” I playfully roll my eyes.

“Change and I’ll show you around Raventree Hall.” Ben’s smile lingers on his face. “If you want.” he backtracks slightly nervous.

“Come collect me in an hour.” I smile as his eyes alight with excitement as he slips out of my chambers.

Why couldn’t Jace send me to a house without such a handsome flirt of a Lord. I sigh out as I fall back into my bed. I rise and begin to remove my armor. I place my sword on the bed unsure if I’m ready to not have it on my person, armor or gown. I slip into a black form fitting gown and settle for a hidden dagger on my thigh. The sheath can only be seen if one is looking for it or if their hands found themselves traveling somewhere they shouldn’t. I braid my silver hair out of my face and leave the rest flowing down my back. I go to the couch and watch out the window until Ben comes to get me.

“Princess?” Ben’s voice carries through the door followed by a couple knocks.

“Come.” I call as I begin to rise off of the couch. Ben stands in the doorway staring at me with wide eyes. “Is this not appropriate for a tour? I can change.” I look down smoothing my dress slightly embarrassed and confused.

“No,” he breathes out. “No, you look perfect Princess.” his eyes meet mine and I can feel my cheeks flush at his compliment.

“Thank you.” I look up to his eyes and smile softly.

“A true Targaryen beauty.” he hums as he places a kiss on my hand lowering his head.

“You honor me, Lord Benjicot.” I say flustered at his words and actions.

“Ben,” he corrects me, smirking.

“Ben.” his name falls off of my tongue breathlessly.

“Come, let me show you my home.” Ben offers me his arm, which I accept as he leads me out of my chambers.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Ben and I shamelessly flirt over the next two days as we ready our host. We plan strategies with his advisors on the best way to go about speaking with the Brackens. I’ve flown Silverwing near the border and seen the host they’re amassing for themselves. I’ll admit I hope to turn them to my mother’s cause but I can only do so much. This feud between these two house has lasted many generations and I’m not sure that the presence of a dragon will make much of a difference.

Jace has sent back word confirming and allowing me leave to do what must be done to secure a host from the Riverlands. There has been no word on Rhaenyra much to my concern and frustration. Hopefully the next time I see her I’ll have an army raised in her name. I send another raven back stating I plan to meet the Bracken host on the morrow and will send him word of the outcome.

“Are you scared?” Ben asks me, looking over his cup of wine as we dine alone.

“I think Silverwing and I can handle this.” I shrug, biting my lip.

“I know you both can. Doesn’t mean you can’t be scared.” he offers me a soft smile.

“Is it bad to admit that I am?” I asked hushed looking to him.

“No, it makes you smart. I haven’t seen you fight or duel. But from looking at the armor and sword you wore the first time I laid eyes on you, I would say you’re no stranger to what may come.” he surmises looking to me intently.

“I do well with a blade, better with fire.” I smile deviously. “How do you fare? Are you scared, Ben?” my smile widens as I suck in my bottom lip.

“Why should I be scared? I have a Targaryen Princess and her dragon flying above me. I think I can manage with a blade from below.” his eyes filled with shameless admiration as he looks to me.

“Don’t be so humble. I’ve heard your nickname and stories throughout your host.” I raise my eyebrow to him across the table.

“What nickname is that? I’m afraid there’s a few floating around.” he chuckles lowly.

“All I’ve heard is the whispers of Bloody Ben leading them to victory. How you come out of battle covered in blood with a wicked smile painted through it.” I look to him as his smile widens.

“Does that scare you?” he tilts his head studying me.

“Not in the slightest.” I gently shake my head.

“We shall see if that’s true on the morrow.” he hums, still looking over my face. “Allow me to escort you to your chambers.” he rises and walks over to help me rise from my chair.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

I rise early in the morning before the sun has started to rise. I begin fastening my hair into two long braids that flow down my back. I begin to stretch out some before covering myself in my armor. Once everything is secured I slide my blade down my back and check to make sure I have everything I should need. I quickly exit my chambers and as I’m turning the corner I clash into a man.

“Good morning.” I look up at Ben’s voice as his arms steady mine as I sway. “I was just coming to wake you.” he smiles still holding on to me.

“I always break fast with Silverwing before we do something strenuous. Would you like to join us?” I offer with a soft smile.

“I’d be honored, Princess.” he bows his head lowly as I playfully push him back.

“I thought we were done with the formalities, Lord Benjicot.” I chuckle as he regains his composure.

“Oh no, you will always be my Princess.” he licks his lips as I feel my cheeks start to heat.

“Mm, your Princess?” I raise my eyebrows trying to pretend my cheeks aren’t the color of dragon fire.

“Yes, mine.” he says lowly as he pinches one of my cheeks. “Come, let’s go get some cattle for Silverwing. I want to make sure she’s well fed for today, along with you, my Princess.” he whispers my title into my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

I follow after him as he takes us to the dining hall. He tells a servant to have a couple plates made for us and brought out near Silverwing for us to eat. He leads us out of his castle and over to the rows of stables and barns. He offers men more than enough coin and soon we have five cattle trailing behind us as we make our way to Silverwing.

As we approach we see our breakfast laid on a blanket near my sleeping dragon who is now starting to wake at my approach. Ben lingers by our breakfast with the string of cows as I approach her. I rub her snout and walk down the length of her body to her tail, trailing my hand all the way. She begins to stir and offers small chuffs. As I walk back to her head she nudges her snout into me and huffs out.

“Oh come on, it’s not that early.” I chuckle as I scratch under her jaw. “That handsome man over there has brought you some gifts.” I hum as she rises her head and looks to Ben.

I nod my head encouragingly to Ben to bring over the cows. He walks over with a stiff spine but is sure to show no fear. Silverwing stares down at him as I walk to his side. She looks at both of us and comes to eye level. I look to Silverwing like a mother warning her child to be nice.

“He’s not your treat, he’s mine. He brought these cattle for you to indulge yourself on.” Silverwing chuffs at us and turns to the cows waiting for us to back away.

“Come.” I say, pulling Ben away.

Once we’re a safe distance away Silverwing dowses the cattle in fire until they’re burnt to a crisp. She lays back down with a thud and leisurely begins to eat her meal. Ben looks on at the scene as I leave his side to return to our breakfast. He claims a seat next to me, still looking to Silverwing.

“So how does that work? She can understand you?” Ben asks taking a sip of juice.

“She can understand me, yes. We have this sort of bond. It’s like a mutual respect of each other’s feelings and boundaries. Kind of as if our souls are molded together as one.” I look to my beautiful dragon as I speak with admiration.

“I can’t even begin to imagine the strength it takes to do that. To command the skies with her. You both are just so other-worldly.” Ben looks to me with reverence.

Silverwing chirps a soft song at Ben’s words and she continues to feast upon her cattle. I smile at her acceptance and happily eat the meal prepared for me. We eat in a comfortable silence as the men begin to rise for the upcoming day.

After we finish our breakfast Ben goes to speak with his fellow commanders and finalize the plan. I lounge with Silverwing watching the men run around camp. She grumbles when some walk a little to closer for her liking and I chuckle as they’re quick to run back. Once everyone seems scarce I rise and see that they have begun to fall into lines ready to march.

“It’s almost time for us to fly. I know not what today holds for us, but I know we will be victorious.” I talk to Silverwing patting her as I start to mount.

“A moment, my Princess.” Ben calls from afar and I turn to see him running to me.

“Yes?” I return to the ground and await for him to come to me.

“I seek your favor.” he pants, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “For luck, on our endeavors.” his cheeks become red from more than just his short run.

“I-“ I pat my armor knowing I have nothing on me to offer him. “I have nothing on me to-“ Silverwing chuffs and snaps a cattle bone, looking to us expectantly.

“Thank you, my beautiful Silverwing.” Ben smiles widely at my dragon as he bends down to claim the now bone knife from her claws.

“It seems she’s taken a liking to you.” I gasp as Silverwing nudges my back pushing me into Ben.

“And what of you?” he hums holding me.

“I suppose I have.” I try to look anywhere but in his eyes as my face heats.

“You have what?” he asks with a smirk, tilting my chin with his fingers so I have to look at him.

“Taken a liking to you.” I reply breathlessly looking at him through my lashes.

“May I have your favor?” Ben looks to my lips and then to my eyes in a silent question to which I nod my head vigorously.

His lips crash down into mine and his teeth are quick to bite down on my lower lip. I gasp out and his tongue slips into my mouth to dance with mine. One of his hands finds its way to the back of my neck molding me to him. He pulls back from my mouth as our breath mingles. I kiss him quickly one more time and a smile splits across his face. He kisses my forehead softly and steps back from me.

“Our host awaits your command, my Princess.” he looks at me with heavy lids.

“Begin marching, we should make it to Stone Hedge a little after midday. If you don’t see me, we’re in the clouds, but I’ll always be above you. I will see you for negotiations.” I nod to him.

“Understood. I will see you in a couple of hours.” he returns my nod, his cheeks still slightly flushed.

“Do not die today.” I call out as he begins to walk away.

“Your wish is my command.” he turns to me and bows deeply before continuing back to his men.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

I fly ahead of the Blackwood host to see if there are any traps waiting for us. We have a clear path directly to Stone Hedge. I hear no other dragons in our vicinity and sigh in relief. As we approach the outskirts we fly in closer to see if there are any scorpions that I should take out before even thinking of landing in an open field. I mark no weapons of note that make me unsure of my landing.

I circle back to our host and coast on the breeze as they make their way closer. They stop on the other side of the Brackens wooden barricade and await for my arrival. I fly over the approaching Bracken host taking in their numbers. We have about couple hundred more swords than they do and a dragon so I have no worry. Silverwing gives out a high pitched screech and the Blackwood hosts recedes allowing us land in front of them.

As we approach I can see the Brackens pushing back to their gates and chuckle. I slide out of my saddle and make my way to solid ground. The Blackwood host looks at me as if I’m a goddess stepping onto their battle field to bless them.

“How was the flight? What did you gather from up there?” Ben peppers me with questions on approach.

“We have more swords than they do. There were no weapons of note that I was worried about or we wouldn’t have landed here. On approach they pulled back. I’m going to have to lure the Lord out.” I list off what I’ve observed from the skies.

“Noted.” Ben nods his head. “And how was the flight?” his face softens as he smiles.

“Absolutely delightful.” my smile matches his as I look back to Silverwing.

“I’m glad to hear.” he looks down at me tenderly.

“Let’s go see if there’s a way to talk this through.” I sigh and begin leading us to the barricade.

As we begin walking to the middle I see small group of men approaching from the Bracken side. We wait at the edge expectancy and they stop a couple hundred feet away. I groan out in annoyance as I climb over the wooden fence. Ben is right behind of me as we cross the line.

“Thank you for meeting us away from your beast.” one of them says foolishly.

“My beast?” I bark out a laugh at his audacity. “She’s had quite the large breakfast, but surely she could always eat more?” I tilt my head, squinting my eyes at him.

“What is it that you’re here for?” Lord Bracken steps out from behind his men.

“Bend the knee to my mother, the rightful Queen of the realm. Join your host with hers and ride with her into battle and glory.” I hold my chin high as I study them as they take in my words.

“Alongside Blackwoods?” Lord Bracken scoffs looking to Ben.

“Alongside fellow Queensmen.” I correct through my teeth trying to cool my temper at his tone and disrespect. I’m trying to avoid what I know is coming and soon I won’t have patience for words anymore.

“What do I get in return? Her brazen daughter who stands to inherit nothing? Does she truly think your cunt is worth my army?” Lord Bracken looks at me with a smile as his words slam into me.

“As if you would’ve ever deserved her.” Ben breathes out in a chuckle and he lunges at Lord Bracken and slams the cow bone knife into the side of his throat. “You don’t speak to her like that.” he grits out twisting the bone.

The world slows as the next seconds play out in front of me. He pulls the bone out as blood splatters across his face he quickly slams it into the leg of the man next to him. I quickly grab my blade from my back and slice open the man who began to run towards Ben. The last man grabs me harshly and I grab the dagger from my ribs and slam it up into his jaw. I pull the dagger out of the man’s jaw causing blood to spray across my face. Time resumes normally and I’m quick to hear shouts from either side of the army.

“Get to Silverwing.” Ben shouts to me as he turns to face the army pulling out his long sword.

As I run back to the barricade men begin pouring over and running past me. They keep a clear path away from my dragon and I’m able to get to her quickly. I clip into the saddle and she shoots us into the air. We fly low as I look on at the brazen violence. We fly near the back of their lines so they’re not safe on any front.

“Dracarys Silverwing.” I cry out and the entirely of the back of their host is doused in dragon flame.

As I look down I see burning men running for their life. I fly to undefended western side of the Bracken host and Silverwing is quick to bathe them in flame. After burning as many as I could without getting too close to Blackwood men we circle our host and land at the back. I quickly dismount from Silverwing preparing to go into the thick of the battle.

A horn blows and all fighting ceases. I climb back up Silverwing to look on at the bloody mess to see what’s going on. I see my mother’s flag raised in the center of the field. I lay back into my saddle and smile that everything is done. I dismount once more and wait at Silverwings feet for Ben to come find us and tell us of his victory.

“My Princess.” Ben’s voice carries through the crowd as they part to make way for him.

“Bloody Ben indeed.” I hum as I look over him in his disheveled state.

“You’ve got a bit on you too.” he smiles wiping at my face.

“How did it go out there?” I ask pulling back to look him over, scanning for any injuries.

“Very good.” he nods and I can still feel the adrenaline pouring off of him. “You and Silverwing did so well. Amazing to be honest.” he showers me with praise causing my cheeks to redden under the blood.

“Thank you.” I reply bashfully.

“Blushing like I didn’t watch you stab a man in the jaw.” his eyes worship me as he shakes his head.

“You are such a fool for doing what you did.” my eyes narrow on him remembering the start of this.

“I was willing to listen to what he wanted until he brought you into it.” he says approaching me. “I told you that you’re mine.” he says only audible for me.

“Ben-“

“You as a person are worth more than any army. Or any kingdom. Or any realm.” he whispers to me. “I would’ve fought alongside all of them if it meant I could stay by your side.” his eyes scan my face as it softens.

My hands reach up to bring his face down to mine. I place a soft kiss on his lips and pull back to look up at him. He captures my lips once more and pulls me tightly to him. Men begin to cheer and clap around us much to my embarrassment. I pull back giggling as he continues to pepper kisses around my face.

We separate and begin to assess the losses. We were fortunate not to take many causalities or injuries. Ben’s most trusted men take the castle at Stone Hedge and raise my mother’s banners in the usurpers stead. Once the castle is deemed safe we walk through the gates.

Upon entering the castle we have a servant lead us the council chambers and see if there was any information left about the Greens movements. Ben’s advisors join us for a debriefing and I quickly write out a note to send to Jace of our victory in the taking of Stone Hedge and raising an army.

Ben dismisses his advisors and then it’s just the two of us lingering. I take in his bloodied state and shake my head. I know I’m not in a much better state either and begin to rise to seek a servant to make me a bath.

“Where are you off to?” Ben is quick to rise at my side.

“To find a bath. I suggest you do the same.” I raise an eyebrow to him as a smile plays at my lips.

“We could bathe together.” Ben whispers against my lips.

“Mm, come find me once you’re clean, Lord Benjicot.” I smirk against his lips and then slip out of the council chambers leaving him alone.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

A moan slips from my lips as I sink into the hot water. I scrub at my skin and splash water against my face watching the water turn pink and then maroon. I pick my nails clean and once I’m satisfied I rise out of the water wrapping a towel around my body. I groan as I remember the only thing a servant could seem to find me is a sheer slip.

I throw my towel to the ground and huff out as the slip only reaches to the top of my thighs. I make my way over to the vanity and begin to take my braids out. I praise the gods that my hair was spared from the blood. I shake my hair out helping relieve some of the tension that remains. I begin to make my way to my bed as there’s a knock at my door.

“Yes?” I ask from the other side of the door not wanting to be seen in such an exposed state.

“I’m clean.” Ben chuckles from the other side of the door. I crack open the door and take in his freshly bathed state.

“Of course they’d be able to find you proper clothing.” I roll my eyes and allow him in.

“You are absolutely divine.” Ben’s eyes finally land on mine after drinking in my exposed body.

“You clean up nicely yourself.” I appreciate his clean face and body as he stalks over to me.

“My Princess.” he breathes out as he kneels before me, his breath fanning across my thighs.

“Hmm?” I hum, looking down at him as my fingers travel through his hair.

“May I taste you?” he asks softly as his hands trail up my bare legs.

“Please, Ben.” I reply breathlessly nodding my head.

As he rises from his knees, he takes my slip with him. I stand before him completely bare as his eyes dart across my body. I help him remove his clothes as we make our way to the bed. He pushes me on the bed when the back of my knees hit it. He kneels before me once more and pulls my core directly to his awaiting mouth.

“Fuck,” I cry as his tongue lashes against my clit.

With every swirl of his tongue my hips are rising off the bed. One of his hands finds its way between my thighs and he teases two fingers at my entrance. His slowly pushes his two digits in as whimpers fall from my mouth. He begins to pump in and out of me slowly as my hips grind onto his face and hand.

“Ben, please,” I whine as he begins a fast pace.

I lose myself to the pleasure as my moans travel throughout my chambers. My thighs quake at his relentless pace as his name pours from my lips. I explode around his fingers as his tongue continues to lick softly at my clit.

“Ben,” I breathless sob as my hand pulls his hair harshly away from my sensitive bud.

“You taste so good, I could eat you all night.” he places soft kisses on my thighs.

He snakes his way up my body and claims my mouth in a heated kiss. I feel his hardened length slide through my wetness causing me to whine. He chuckles against my lips as my hips continue to squirm.

“Are you ready, my Princess?” he whispers against my lips as he lines himself up at my entrance.

“Yes, please,” I arch my hips up to his begging for friction.

A moan tears through me as he slides into me. He wastes no time and fully pushes himself into me. The stretch of him causes my eyes to screw shut as I focus on the feel of him. I begin to slowly rock my hips once I’ve adjusted and he claims my lips once more as he starts to move his hips.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” he plants against my lips as his pace increases.

My legs wrap around his waist as I cling to him as he continues to pull pleasure from my body. His hips snap into mine at the new angle, stealing my breath. Our breathes become one as our hips meet in a rhythm that has us both panting. Pleasure washes over me, catching me off guard as my nails dig into Ben’s shoulder.

“Fuck, princess.” he grits through his teeth as he keeps pounding into me.

Tears begin to prick at the edges of my eyes from the pleasure he’s repeatedly wringing from my body. One of his hands slide between us and attach to my sensitive bud. I cry out and clench around him and he groans into my neck. I feel him begin to fill me as his hips falter and I explode around him once more, his name falling from my lips as if it’s the only word I know.

“You did so good for me, my Princess.” he whispers as he slowly pulls out.

He pulls me to his side and covers us with the blankets. I curl into his side and hum at his words of adoration and praise. My eyes begin to feel too heavy as I allow sleep to consume me.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Part 2

full masterlist here

ongoing aemond fic plug tho

[yandere-wishes]

˖ ࣪⊹𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞/𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐜𝐞 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

⸸ Yandere! Capitano x reader

༒︎ Summary: He's the ice bearer, the monster sent to snuff out the flames of your homeland. But isn't that just love? To kill with such passion. Wouldn't anything else just be a lie?

🗡Warnings: Yandere behavior, blood, and gore, reader has a pyro vision and wields a claymore

𓌜 author's note: I made some Girlypop Capitano edits to sorta fit the vibe: One & Two

๋࣭ ⭑𓆩✧𓆪⭑ ๋࣭

Do you love me? Or do you love how I make you feel?

๋࣭ ⭑𓆩✧𓆪⭑ ๋࣭

Kachina is lost

She does not emerge from the scared flame

Nor does her ancient name echo across the skies.

Life stills, death looms.

light wanes, darkness reaches.

The glow of the sacred flame burns your eyes.

It's ambers whispering grime truths.

"I volunteer to go, too. You'll need all the help you can get."

Mavuika's flame mane rasps across her shoulders as she shakes her head. Lips taut in thought, sepia brows furled in eccentric fret. You've yet to see this shade of worry painted across your archon's face.

"I can't afford to excuse you, especially now that I fear my powers are dwindling. I need someone to have my back. Besides I'm sure the champians can handle it."

Duty first, that's the oath of the Princesses of Flame. Guard the archon with your life, protect her through any means necessary.

You force your head into a sharp nod.

The chill in the stadium air sends a nervous tang rippling through your spine. You've heard the Wayob speak of this sort of frost before. This all encompassing thing.

His boots grace the stadium floor with all the grace of falling stars. Ethereal armor glows in the soft roar of dancing flames. Icicles in dawn's first light.

The tall figure tilts his armor-clad head up at the archon's perch, with impertinence. You almost swear you hear a chuckle of mockery chime from the inside of his helmet.

"Pyro Archon" he speaks, voice distant and distorted, ice on ice through hail storms. The chill glides across your body again, how can one man be so cold? Shouldn't the cold be a sweet thing? Relief from harsh suns and harsher fires?

"Since the oath made five centuries ago remains unfulfilled, what use is the gnosis in your hands?"

He is all ice. But not the sugar-laced ice cubes that float leisurely in spiced cacao milk. No. He is the harsh verglas only spoken of in hushed tones around grisly campfires. The ice that leaves plains frozen and destroyed. It kills all things warm, all things that breathe.

There is a chill in the air.

It penetrates the skin and nests between the bones.

subconsciously you run your fingers across your neck.

"I challenge you for the gnosis, for the right over Natlan's rules" He shrugs off the heavy cape, the multilayered garment with too much wool and heat.

Strange, strange thing.

It amazes you how he hasn't melted from wearing such stout apparel in such smoldering climate. He tosses it to the side careful to never ripe the precious fabric.

"Fight, or summon your champion"

Your hand rests heavily on Mavuika's shoulder. Eyes transfixed in a silent plea.

The people need their Archon.

Natlan needs its Archon.

Besides this is your duty.

Mavuika nods.

Red eyes never once straying from the intruder.

Vicious sparks flicker across your palm. Like sparking a match across dried bark. You feel the inforno's kiss licking past your skin, weaving into the bone, as your weapon materializes. Your fingers ring across the worn, burnt handle of your loyal armament.

"I shall fight you fatui, for the honor and glory of Natlan and the Pyro Archon."

He watches you through the mask, through the ebony darkness that shields his mysterious visage. He reminds you of how Saurians watch their prey. Weighing each tiny breath, tasting each heartbeat through the air. He looks nothing less than regally monstrous.

Like death, doom, and despair.

You've tasted this before, engraved the bitterness upon your tongue, and honed your body to fight it. He will not take Natlan, he will not condemn your home to his cold.

The weight of your claymore pulls you down. Plunging into hard rock. You watch as he bats the dust with his hand. Gloved and armoured. What is he hiding? You wonder. What man truly needs so many layers? Armor, ice, frost, steel, wool. You long to peel them away, desperate to find something human underneath. Something squishy and worm. You want to feel his heartbeath between your teeth. Drink from his warm blood and relish in the sweet aftertaste. A testament to how you conquered the cold.

You've never seen someone so eager to be hidden in layers up layers.

Snow on ice.

Ice on iron.

"You're awfully young to take on such a big responsibility little girl"

his voice makes you shiver, you can almost taste his ice on your tongue.

Bitter, like barbwire and salt.

"Don't mock me Fatui" You warn, molding your body into a battle stance, knees folded almost kissing the stadium floor, weapon clasped with both hands. Eyes on the target.

Just like Mavuika taught you.

Just like you taught Kachina.

You can feel the heat from your vision coursing through your body, cracking your bones and mingling with marrow. You wait, just one more breath. You use the pyro blessing to project yourself through the air, like an arrow aimed straight for the man made of ice and lies. Swinging your claymore, ready to dent his helmet - and hopefully his head inside-  but he blocks it with his glacier sword. Just a thin dainty thing, capable of quelling your inferno-laced colossus.

Capitano advances, with a flick of his sword he pushes you back. Your heart hammers wildly, someone so skilled so strong, it's almost a shame he can never compete in the pilgrimage. That he can never be on your side.

You use the momentum of his push to frontflip through the foggy air. You land squarely on his wide shoulders, digging your foot into his trapezius muscle, while your knee scrapes his other shoulder for balance. You swing your claymore once more, trying to strike his head off. But to your shock, he parries it with the back of his rime gauntlets.

You keep pushing trying to slice through ice, armor, flesh, anything. Yet everything about this man seems to be made of inviolable steel adorned with everlasting cyro. For a second the metal of his helmet kisses the inside of your thighs. There is no shame in battle, no flirting with the opponent. There are only two bodies entwined until death and defeat. Until one rises and one falls. Still, there's something about the way his black face, regards yours that has a shy blush creeping on the hollows of your cheeks. The man, no this formidable monster is far too close, it's almost as if he's longing for a kiss. You leap back, whispering patronymic blessing to the Archon when your feet meet solid rock once more.

"You fight well little girl, but your attacks are careless, loose. You can not defeat opponents if you can not penetrate their defenses."

He dashes, so quickly you almost think he's flickering between the ground and air. You feel his familiar cold before, you feel the hilt of his sword nestle into your abdomen. He leans forward, helmet sending frostbite through the side of your head "You smell so sweet, like the roses of Snezhnaya". Capitan thrusts his sword with raw force sending you soaring into the stadium walls, the rocks crumple around you, as you struggle to lift yourself up once more.

Your eyes try to carve sight through dust and debris. The air is thick, hot and cold. You blink twice desperate for your eyes to focus. There are silhouettes dancing towards you twirling through the air like Yumkasaurus.

Capitano's ice projectiles glide through the air, they're almost beautiful if you could doubt their lethality. He commands them with flickers of his wrist, and it's only when their frost kisses your body that you fully remember this is a battle, not a dance. They lounge themselves between your ribs, underneath your heart, in the plump of your thigh, the bullseye of your shoulder. Pretty icicles cut open your flesh burying themselves deeply inside you, you'd almost dub it romantic, with how the icicles intonate to your erratic heartbeat.

The frost begins to infiltrate your vascular flow, cauterizing you from the inside. Spreading through the outside, you hiccup out a low moan. Capitano laughs, in a tone that feigns mockery. "I see my ice is to your liking". You bite your lip holding back another moan, it's so wholly painful yet so satisfying. You were right the cold does offer such a delicious relief from the blazing inferno all around.

Your opponent stalks closer, kneeling by your freezing body. You doubt Muarvirka can see through the grey air permutating the stadium. Maybe that's why, away from all prying eyes. The captain lifts his helmet revealing smirking lips. He grazes the side of your mouth with a faux kiss. savoring your warmth before, parting your lips, and deepening the kiss. Even his lips are utterly frozen, he sucks you flames from your mouth extinguishing your fires, with blood-deep frost. He runs a cold iron-clad claw across her cheek, scrapping up the skin, creating a rivulet of red. Before licking it lovingly with his icy tongue. "Why are you so cold?" you shutter, "Why so frostbitten? Has no one ever taught you the joys of the flame?"

He laughs, really really laughs this time. And while you still can't see his eyes, you swear they soften. "I've been burnt too many times, trust me the cold has its merits. But one must be willing to surrender to them."

Capitano plucks your body from the ground. He cradles you roughly in his arms.

He has no warmth to offer.

No heat.

He is only ice.

The fog yields, as you look up. Mavuika screams, her anger palpable. "I'll accept her as my prize for now archon" Capitano spits. "But next time I shall challenge you and know that I will take the gnosis too."

The flames in the stadium roar, trying to melt away the frost plaguing your body. Trying to replenish your spark. You begin to flail and kick, desperate to be liberated from Capitano's iron and frost-clad grasp.

You need to break free, to return to your archon's side, to be there when the others return with Kachina. You can not let this monster pilfer you away from your home, your people, your archone.

"Let me go!" you scream, your last attempt at a battle cry.

"Shhh, war trophies have no right to refuse."

⋆⋆⋆༺𓆩⸸𓆪༻⋆⋆⋆

Super tempted to draw the reader's outfit!!

🪐 @definitely-asexual-volcano @eth3realc0rps3  @numberonefanfury  @madara3437 @crystalkat6747 @m00nlight-mexican @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @orcasandtea @tecchoukisserr

[brabblesblog]

I hope you die screaming.

One-shot, angst/comfort, astarion/f!tav

After you refuse to help Astarion ascend, he leaves you with a venomous goodbye. Unfortunately the vampire has to come back to get his things.

The idea was to mix up the warding bond rings, Astarion’s final words if you refuse to help him, and Tav suffering and dying (not permanently!) in his absence.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

It had been a miserable few days of being alone in Baldur’s Gate, without most of his possessions, but Astarion was loathe to go back to the Elfsong. For one, he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d be there to do. To grab his things and go? A possibility, but not what he would rather do. To get on his knees and ask you to take him back? What he really wanted to do, but the chance of you forgiving him was slim, and he couldn’t face that rejection. So he stayed near the tavern, torn between showing himself and walking away yet again, when the ring on his finger pulsed with a strange magic and the ward protecting him dissipated from his body.

He had known you were still protecting him through the paired rings even as he stormed out of Cazador’s palace. The soft, pleasant feeling of the ward had not disappeared at all, and it had proven quite useful once or twice when he inadvertently offended someone enough for them to attempt to stab him. He didn’t get a lot of injuries - only minor cuts and scrapes - so as much as he felt guilty he figured you would be more than capable of handling it. In any case, should you want, you could just take off the rings, he reasoned.

So when the ward fell away right now, he huffed a bit and took the ring off. You must’ve finally remembered he had the other one, and there was no longer any point protecting him, after everything.

After what he said.

He entered the tavern and sat in a corner, waiting for your group to come back. He’d decided to come get his things. Without the ward’s protection, he would need his potions and armor to survive solo.

Soon enough, the door burst open and Gale came stumbling in. The gore and blood on his robes was normal enough, but his expression wasn’t. The man looked ashen and pale, and he immediately ran to the stairs. “Shadowheart! Come here. Now!”

Before the vampire could even put down the goblet he was holding, Halsin came in, something bundled in his arms. The air that wafted through hit Astarion, and he almost choked on it: blood. Your blood. A lot of it. He watched with wide eyes as Halsin carried the bloody bundle in his arms. It was a body, that much was obvious, but they had wrapped it in blankets. The fabric was stained everywhere, but it pooled the most where the chest would be. Halsin dipped his head and gently placed a kiss on the head of the body, and as he did so the blanket covering the face fell away. Astarion’s heart, if he still had one, would have stopped as he saw the face underneath the blankets. Yours.

He immediately stood up, heading towards Halsin. The larger elf saw him and let him approach, his expression one of sorrow.

“Halsin? What- is she…” he closes the distance. Your eyes are closed, as if you were sleeping. He knows it, knows he can’t hear your heartbeat and can’t see you breathe, but he still reaches out to cup your cheek. Cold, as cold as his hands were. He chokes back a scream that threatens to bubble from his throat.

Halsin moves, slowly climbing the stairs. “Come, Astarion. I shall explain.” As he made his way to your bed, he talked. “She hasn’t been well since your departure, but that is to be expected. We had a fight with the Steel Watch. She was a little too slow, too tired, and they won.”

Astarion growls. “You should all have protected her! Did you all cower when-“

“No.” Halsin rounds on him, eyes glinting with what was almost like anger. “We all have our injuries. We all tried our best. We weren’t the ones who left her.”

He laid you down on your bed, grabbing a wet cloth to clean your wounds. Astarion gripped the elf’s wrist. “Why aren’t you using a scroll to revive her?!”

He sighed. “You might not remember, Astarion, but the scrolls were all in your bag when you left.”

Shit. He had forgotten. He quickly rummaged through it, finding one. He saw Shadowheart approach and asked her for some healing potions as well. While everyone was preparing, Halsin kept cleaning your body up. Astarion scowled and grabbed his own wet towel, gently trying to clean around the hole in your chest. He winced at the amount of blood he saw as he tried to peel off the bloody shirt, then paused as he realized it was his camp shirt. Biting back the urge to scream, he kept working.

Shadowheart came back with several bottles of the potion, and they got to work. Halsin used the scroll, and as he did the vampire began pouring the potions down your throat. It didn’t take long for him to hear your heart start to beat again, and he exhaled roughly as he poured more bottles, just to be sure. He watched the color flood back into your face as you healed, unable to stop some tears from falling.

A hand gripped his shoulder and he turned to see Gale. The wizard sighed. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he said dryly. “Seems like you got your wish,” he said bitterly, gesturing to you.

Astarion bared his fangs and got up, ready to tear him from limb to limb. Halsin barely had enough time to stand between the two men. “There is no point to fighting each other. What’s done is done. And she’s doing better now.”

Gale sighed. He nodded at Halsin, then at Astarion. “I suppose the druid is right. You’ll still have some explaining to do, but it can wait.” He leaves to see Shadowheart to tend to his own injuries. After a moment, so does Halsin, squeezing Astarion’s hand in solidarity as he left.

Astarion continues his ministrations, weeping openly now that no one was here. He leaned forward, kissing your forehead. When you were clean, he puts you in your nightclothes, then wraps you up in his blankets. It doesn’t escape his notice that you’ve moved into his bed, his things still there, as though you were waiting for his return. He sleeps there that night, wraps himself around you, the sound of your soft breathing something he sorely missed.

You wake up a few hours later. Your head pounds, but when you open your eyes, it is blessedly dark. The last thing you remember was a steel watch monstrosity’s blade coming straight through you. You take a breath, nuzzling the blankets. They still smell like him, and you worry that soon the smell will fade. Then there would be nothing left of the man you loved. Well, other than his clothes-

Wait. His clothes. You run a hand down your chest, wincing at the movement. You realize you’re in your own camp clothes. It must’ve been torn in the fight, ruined by the gore. A soft cry escapes your lips. It felt all too much like losing him again. You whimper, helpless. Every movement was pain, but the most painful thing even now was your heart.

You suddenly realize you’re not alone on the bed. An arm sweeps across, wrapping securely around your waist. Someone nuzzles you, shushing your cries. In the darkness you can barely see, but the scent and the temperature of said arm hits you.

“As-Astarion?”

He swallows nervously. “Darling. I… I’m here.” He can see your face in the dark, eyes wide and afraid, and then a glimmer of hope as you realize who he is.

“You came back,” you manage to croak out. Your hand finds his, and he squeezes it tightly.

“I did. I-“ the happiness in your face stuns him. You should hate him. He doesn’t deserve to be welcomed back with such open arms.

“I was in the Elfsong to gather my things.” Before you could get the wrong idea and get hurt, he pushes on. “But I think I knew even as I walked in I’d be here to beg you to let me stay.”

“There’s no need to even ask, love.” Your hand moves to his hand, feeling for the ring. It isn’t there, and you feel a small pang of sadness. “You took it off.”

“Only today,” he says. “The wards fell. I thought you got rid of it, but your ring is still on your finger. I guess it just stopped working when you-“ he swallows past the lump in his thoat. “You- you know.” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Noticing his distress, you move your other hand to cup his cheek. “I’m sorry you had to see this. I got clumsy. I was… I wasn’t at my best.” You look away, embarrassed to admit how much you missed him.

“Darling. No,” he turns your cheek to meet his gaze. “I left you. I broke your heart. All because I was too afraid to see the right path to take. And I wished… I said terrible things. I would take it back, all of it back. I regretted it as soon as I left the dungeons. But I didn’t think you’d let me back in. If I stayed, maybe you’d be alright. You’d be-“

His words are broken by soft lips that press against his. It was tender, and he couldn’t help but lean into it, kissing back carefully and gently. More tears fell from him, and you thumbed them away. Pulling back, you offer him a kind smile. “I forgave you as you left, love. I get it. It’s just that I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too.” With those words Astarion finally breaks down, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. He didn’t deserve such tenderness, such love, after what he did. He vowed to do better with your heart, to give what you deserve as well. Not for any other reason than that he wanted to.

He meets your eyes, and he finally lets the words that had been sitting in his chest for ages out. “I love you. I have loved you for a while, darling, I just didn’t know how. I’m not good at this, obviously. I choose the wrong words, do the wrong things, and you still let me back in.”

You chuckle a bit, hands carding through his hair. “That’s because I love you too, idiot.”

You’ve told him that for some time now, accepting that he couldn’t say the same yet. But every time you say it his heart still soars. He captures your lips in yet another kiss.

“Forgive me?”

“Of course. You’ll have to put your ring back on, though. Maybe when I’m more healed, on second thought.”

You bite your lip, frowning.

“Oh. And I might have ruined your camp shirt. Could you fix it for me? Please?”

He puts on a show of pouting and sighing. “If I must. What would you do without me, hm?”

You roll your eyes and tug him close to you. All too quickly, you drift off, finally having a good night’s rest. He watches your face become peaceful, noting the huge bags under your eyes.

Astarion holds you through the night, vowing to never leave your side ever again.

[muzzledhoundsheart]

❧❧❧THE BEAST INSIDE YOUR WALLS❧

Pairing ❧ dark!Gwayne Hightower x (f)reader  

CW ❧ dubcon, blood, fingering (f), oral (m), p in v sex, m!dom, possible typos 

AN ❧ I hope you guys enjoy this one! I had a pretty hard time with deciding if I’m gonna post it or scrap it and work on it another time or completely rewrite it but I think it pulled itself together pretty well in the end. Also sorry for any typos of any kind, I edit everything myself and English is my second language so some stuff slips to the cracks real fast (always makes me want to die when I see it ahaha) 

Fog hung thick over the trees, weaving itself round the crowns, through every branch hanging like shawls. Or more like nooses, Gwayne thought to himself. Him and his men rode through the forrest for hours now, seemingly without an end in sight. At every corner they rounded they found the same scenery, all blurring into one. While he enjoyed the status of being a knight, the glitz and glam of tournaments, young ladies fawning over him and men respecting him. He hated days like these. The sweat in his armor running cold down his back, the uncomfortableness spreading further, seeping deep into his very bones. 

„I see a village there! “, one of his men shouts. Oh, thank the gods he thought. Finally, some rest. He just hopes to find a good meal, a warm bed and a pretty whore to end the day well with. He could see in his men that they were all thinking the same, or at least some variation of it. They were so close they could almost make out the houses now, when suddenly, a shrill scream echoed through the Forrest. The horses were on high alert and almost knocked their riders off. It wasn’t just a scream of fear, it ran much deeper. The men looked to Gwayne unsure of how to proceed. „Sounds like a fucking banshee.“, a shorter roundish man spat with a heavy drawl. „My father used to warn me about them screams in Forrests, they’re luring you in to skin you alive.“, another one said. „Oh horseshite it’s probably just a kid who ran off and now can’t find their way back, serves ´em little cunts right.“ What a troop of heroes, Gwayne thought to himself. 

He took a deep breath and stifled a sigh, „You go on, I shall see if the forrest nymphs truly are calling for me.“ He said with a boyish smirk adorning his lips. The men looked uneasy but accepted his order and started their journey anew. Just as Gwayne was about to turn around to ride deeper into the thicket again he heard another blood curdling scream. His brows furrowed and he gripped the reigns tighter, dashing towards the noise. The closer he seemed to get, the colder his sweat ran down his neck, his thoughts running rampant stringing together gruesome paintings of violence and agony. Another scream, and it sounded awfully close. He drew his sword and the muscles in his pale back pulled taught, shifting underneath his freckled skin and sending a rush of adrenaline through his veins. The sight before him was, however, not what he imagined. 

A young woman was desperately struggling to climb up a mangled tree, she gained some footage and pulled herself up another branch, pained grunts leaving her mouth and blood dripping from her arm and side — drip drip dripping down from the wounds running down to her naked toes. Beneath the tree stood two wolfs, blood and saliva dripping from their snouts, bubbling around the corners making them look rabid, hungry — starving. The wolves didn’t even care about the deafening noise the hooves of his humongous stallion made, no, they were set on her, having already had a taste of her sweet flesh, eager for more.

 Gwayne ceased the opportunity and aimed for one of the wolves, within a few strives he was close enough to slash the back of one of them, their head hanging on by what little sinew the sword didn’t quite reach. This, finally, caught the other wolf's attention and he growled at Gwayne, ready to tear into his horse, pull him off and rip him apart, piece by bloody piece. Gwayne was faster though, stabbing the wolf in it’s side on one swift motion, his sword cutting into the wolf like velvet, releasing a gut-wrenching whimper, the wolf folded into itself while blood spurted out of it’s wound and snout, until his eyes glossed over, and his labored breathing stopped. It was almost beautiful how such such a beastly being perishes so pathetically, he thought, almost forgetting about the woman still hanging desperately onto the rotting branches of the tree in front of him. „My Lady... I’m afraid the branch will break soon.“ 

It took some time for the woman to realize what just happened. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, her chest heaving up and down heavily. Taking in her appearance, now being close enough to do so, Gwayne noticed how she was dressed, a white thin linen dress, almost looking like a nightgown, with nothing else covering her shivering form. Furthermore, the dress was ripped in multiple spots and her blood blossomed into the fabric, spreading like a visceral garden over her attire. She held her side with one hand and Gwayne noticed that her dress was ripped around her breast as well, it laid openly naked above the hand holding her side. What a lucky man Gwayne was. „Thank- thank you Ser. By the gods thank you.“ She breathed out, her voice sounding hoarse and rough. Gwayne dismantled his horse, hiding his almost perverse smile behind this mundane display.

 He approached the tree and held out his hand for her. Standing tall in front of it, he was sure the woman could reach him if she crouched down. „Let me help, my Lady.“ He said in the softest voice he could muster in this moment, his lips stretching into a friendly, warm smile. If only she knew. The woman was still apprehensive but did eventually crouch down and let him aid her in climbing back down. When she was on a brach low enough, Gwayne cupped the back of her knee and hauled her into his arms. She let out a surprised yelp and blinked up at him through thick lashes. The woman was caked in grime and blood, sweat clung to her body like second skin, but she was beautiful, nonetheless. 

„You’re all good now.“, he said, slowly lowering her to the ground while steadying her. Her hand went to her torn dress, trying to hold it up to hide her bareness. Before words could leave her mouth, he already unbuckled his cape and draped it around her shivering form. „What a predicament you were in ,my Lady. If you let me, I would take you to the nearest village to have a healer look at your wounds.“ He said not letting his gentle hold on her shoulders go. His fingertips slowly wandered up and down the familiar fabric in a soothing matter. „I would owe you my life, Ser.“, she haughtily breathed out.

 He was sure she’s lost enough blood to barely be conscious, especially now that the adrenaline is steadily leaving her body. His face contorted into a look of concern, „I might have to look at your wounds now and tend to them as best as I can. Forgive me but you’re looking awfully pale, my Lady.“ She let out an amused sound at that. „You might as well do it now, yes.“ she was swaying, on the cusp of fainting. Gwyane knelt down in front of her, slowly bunching up her skirt. The wound in her side wasn’t as bad as he initially thought, he got up again and assured the woman that he was only getting one of his satchels off his horse. He then proceeded to clean her wounds, dressing them in cloth and sending her assuring looks through his copper lashes. The woman felt like she was dreaming, being saved by such a beautiful kind man. 

He looked like a knight from a fairytale, his face was carved out of ivory, his eyes like the stormy waters that ran through the land and his copper hair falling around his cheekbones framing his pretty face. He got up again, wiping his hands on a cloth, discarding it after by dropping the bloodied cloth back into the satchel. „That should do it for now.“, he said. The woman was still dazed and looked at him as if he was a prince of the realm. „I cannot thank you enough.“ She expressed grasping tighter onto his cloak. „ Not to worry, my Lady, i have to wonder however you got yourself in this situation though.“. She looked flustered and diverted her eyes. „I was visiting my brother to take care of him, the cold got to him and i was afraid he wouldn’t make it out alive on his own. I thought taking the route through the forrest would get me home quicker, how foolish of me.“ 

Foolish indeed Gwayne thought to himself, stifling a grin. „I could offer you a bed for tonight as my thanks, Ser.“, her eyes lit up saying that, and Gwayne almost felt bad for how genuine she looked. It was rare to find someone seemingly believing in the simple kindness of man nowadays. He also wondered if she knew just what she implied with her statement, well he surely wouldn’t mind if that was what she was thinking of. Just the thought brought a shiver down his skin straight to his cock, it has been so long since he got to indulge himself after-all. „I would happily accept, my Lady“ he took her small shivering hand in his and brought it to his lips. She looked like she was about to faint again and before she started swaying, he decided to steady her with his arm around her waist. The woman stole many glances at him, and his breast swelled with pride — arrogance. He was sure he got kissed by Lady Luck tonight. 

He helped her mount his house and put her legs over his, one arm caging her in, so she „will be safe with him.“. They started trotting towards the small village nearby, her directions were surely helpful, making them arrive sooner than he anticipated.

They rode through a small marketplace coming across some of his men pointing him out to what seemed to be their bedwarmers for the night. Shouts of his heroism were heard, and the roundish man yelled „Not a banshee then ,aye?“. The woman then led him the way to a small hut. Nothing special really, made of wood and stone and mud. It looked solid — just — with greenery not only surrounding it but winding itself into every nook and cranny. They unmounted and she, still shaky on her feet, let him inside the small hut. 

His heavy boots stomped down on the creaky floor as he took his surroundings in; it was…homely. Certainly homely. A small kitchen met a big cozy bed draped in different fabrics and knit blankets. Books and various other items were strewn about, but it looked like it had a system at least. „You may take the bed and I will get you something to freshen up.“. Gwayne looked to her and swiftly grasped her wrist „I would rather claim my reward now, my Lady“. „I’m not sure what you mean.“ Her heartbeat quickened; she couldn’t have been so blind could she? He towered over her taking steps forward until both reached one of the wooden clad walls. She felt as if her flesh would freeze off, needles and pins spreading all over her body, her stomach in knots. „Remove my cloak“. All kindness vanished from his voice. She was staring at him, frozen in time. Cold cold cold fear encompassing her. „Now.“ he almost growled. 

Shaking hands reached up to open the claps, the thick fabric pooling around her still bare and bloodied feet. His eyes raked over her form, half naked and quivering before him. So delicious. His hand reached out to her, making her flinch away hard. This made his cock twitch, hard and wanting in his breeches. He moved quick and ripped the already torn dress to complete shreds. The cloth fell off her breasts entirely and he could almost make out her rapid heartbeat through her chest. The quick — thump thump thump — spurring him on even more. 

Gwayne’s hands found solace on her ribcage, his calloused thumbs slowly tracing the underline of her breasts, making her nipples pebble. The motion was almost soothing but her it felt like a predator seizing up his prey, installing fear in it and calculation their next move. She didn’t dare to breathe which he took note of — it made him chuckle. A deep rumble coming out of his chest. „I wont hurt you“. 

Liar.

She knew he would, they both did. His hands now cupping her breasts, clutching them tightly, pinching and pulling at her flesh. Small gasps left her mouth and she never felt more vulnerable than in this moment. He dipped his head to her level, copper strands kissing his cheekbones. His right hand followed her clavicles, up the tendons on her neck and settled on her throat. The pressure applied made her lightheaded. „Why don’t you sing my praises, huh, your great hero deserves more than this don’t you think?“ She wanted to bite that smug smirk off his face.

 It felt like he could sense what she thought, and he chose to attack first. His lips captured hers in a searing kiss. Gwayne’s tongue slipped into her mouth and he tasted every part of her. When they finally parted, her breaths were labored, chest heaving and saliva coated the bottom of her face, strings of it connecting them like a wet spider web. He kissed her again and again, growing more aggressive with each one, biting and pulling at her lips and tongue until she tasted the iron now coating their lips. She was ashamed of herself for how wet she’s gotten. Wetness slowly running down the inside of her thighs, as she felt how hard and wanting Gwayne has gotten himself. 

While Gwayne was biting and shucking at the juncture of her throat he ripped the last shreds of her gown hanging around her hips apart, leaving her completely exposed to his hungry eyes. Goosebumps littered her body as the cold air hit her skin, which was a welcome distraction from Gwayne’s searing touch, dipping lower and lower. He reached her mount and and slid a single finger between her folds. His lips breathed hot against her cheek „What a tight little cunt“, he moaned as he sunk his finger deep inside her. She wanted to run away, call for help and have him beheaded, but in this moment the coil winding itself in her stomach craved him to keep going, to do more. And do more he did. Another finger slipped into her — two long slender fingers stretching her tight wetness out in fluid motions. His paced steadily increased and he looked like he was about to rip her chest open with his teeth. Her breast heaving into his face and sweat slowly dripping into his face. He licked a long stripe up her artery and bit down, just hard enough to force a strangled groan out of her bruised lips. 

She was burning from the inside out from shame — it felt so delicious, being mauled alive. Just as she was about to completely lose herself in the pleasure, he withdrew his hand. „Get on your knees“, he commanded breathless and harsh. Her eyes refocused on him, and he sunk down, big, clouded eyes fixed on the flushed head of his cock. She didn’t even notice that he partially undressed himself. „Open“, he said as his thumb pressed down on her plump lower lip and hand wrapping around her throat again, much tighter this time. He ran the tip of his leaking cock along the edge if her teeth, finding great amusement in it. Even if she were to bite him, he could snuff her out in seconds. „Don’t tell me you don’t know what to do now, you’re definitely not a maiden,“ She was — but he didn’t need to know. She’s heard enough tales from friends and the brothel workers scurrying about the market when they found the time.

Light-headed form the lack of oxygen and limited in her movement she began running her tongue along his cock. Up and down the head, following a prominent vein slithering along the underside of it. Gwayne groaned and pulled her in by the throat. She sputtered around him, his cock reaching deep into her throat now. He left her no time to catch a breath, moving his hips in a fast irregular rhythm. „That’s it, take it“, he breathed out. His cock slipping in and out her mouth faster with every thrust. Spit dripped down his sack as cradled her head against his pelvis bone. Her eyes rolled up her skull and he swore he would have a corpse around his pulsating cock any minute now. Showing some mercy, he released her, and she gulped down deep breaths of air — coughing them right back out again. Her teary eyes looked longingly at his cock, bobbing and pulsating still, thick drops of precum dripping onto the hard wooden floor. Before she could do much of anything he leaned down and seized her by her claves. Pulling her, with her back on the floor now, closer to him. 

His hands pawed at her thighs and trapped fistfuls of plush fat for leverage. Her lower half hung in the air, and he had a full view of her creaming cunt. Gwayne halted for a short moment, asking himself if he wanted to taste her first, lick up the viscous fluids of her drooling cunt, dripping onto the floor. He discarded the idea and chose to position his cock at her entrance. In one harsh thrust he was inside of her, setting a brutal pace. The small hut was filled with wet slapping noises, moans and groans. Gwayne fucked her as if he intended on killing her. Her body like putty in his string hands and her cunt growing hotter and tighter around his swollen cock. He crouched down lower and threw one of her legs over his shoulder, rutting so deep into her she swore she would never be able to feel whole again without his cock in her. Her desperate whimpers turned into incoherent screams. They ran down deep into Gwayne’s bones and spurred him on as he felt his release coming. His final thrusts were brutal, kissing her cervix and bruising her pelvic bone in it’s wake. He grabbed her throat again and squeezed as his sack tightened and he released hot spurts of thick cum into her womb. They both stayed like this for many moments. He could still feel her walls convulsing around his softening cock, her soft hands laying atop his around her throat, wordlessly begging to release her. When he did, her body fell to the ground with a thud. Her legs still open, arms crossed above her head and her wounds weeping again. Sweat, blood and cum dripping out of her and mingling into a visceral painting of lust. Gwayne brushed his damp hair out of his face and slowly redressed. How he wished to paint the scene before him to take with him out on the battlefields. Alas — he grabbed his sword and pointed it down at her belly, slowly tracing a line up between her breasts and resting below her chin. „I don’t want any red-headed bastards running around, make sure to take care of it.“. „I-i will, don’t worry.“ He nodded curtly and threw her one last glance before leaving her hut. Her heart was still beating like a rabbit running away from a pack of wolves. She hoped the beast would trace her scent and find his way to her again soon.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Safe Keeping | 2

Part 1 2 3

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, forced marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut (dub con, primal play, PIV, rough sex), emotional unavailability, The Hound being abrasive, canon typical casual misogyny, baby fever, typos, etc.

A/N: you guys, i dont want to edit the summary from p1 so i wont. also for future me here are the asks i got for this fic [x] [x] [x] which is like 🤯 cos i thought id get 5 notes on this tbh HAHAH originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @otteropera @poisonsage808 @glitterandgoldfinds

I refused to leave my chambers when I woke.

Not only had I cried myself to sleep, but I had woken with puffy eyes and ended up crying all over again. I was glad that my doting handmaiden was so fiercely loyal to me. Lucy didn't think my weeping childish. She was understanding and eternally on my side. I am immensely grateful for it; I don't know what I would have done without her.

She helped me bathe and dress and eat, then entertained me with gossip from the servants. For a while that was enough.

As the day passed though, my thoughts muddled and left me restless. I could not do anything but obsess over the fact my husband left me after wifing me up.

"Do you think he will come back tonight?" I mutter as I stare blankly at my reflection on the mirror.

Lucy ceases combing my hair and takes my chin in her fingers. Paired with a hand on my shoulder, she silently urges me to straighten my back from my seat. I do just that. She smiles at me through the mirror, "my lady, if you wish it, I will look for him and make him come to you."

I release a breath, "don't be ridiculous."

"I am not being ridiculous," she sets the brush down, "I am being serious."

I feel my throat tighten. My lips quiver but I refuse to break down in tears again. I shake my head rapidly, unwilling to speak, for I knew I would crack if I did.

Lucy frowns in concern then kneels down on my side, grabbing my hand, "my lady, I would die for you."

I screw my eyes shut and break into a whine, "please-"

"I owe you my life," she clasps my hand with hers and brings it to her cheek, "you freed me from my chains. You clothed me, fed me, and showed me kindness none of my masters have ever shown me before," she looks up at me with a solemn expression then repeats, "I would die for you."

I shake my head and lean into her, "live for me, Lucy. I've forgotten what's it was like before you and I don't want to remember."

She kisses my hand and presses her forehead on mine before standing, "I shall do as you command."

She stands behind me and gathers my hair back. She strokes my locks and offers me a smile through the mirror once more. I smile back at her this time around.

The comfort she offers me finally seeps through me as she massages my shoulders.

"I pray the gods will swiftly bless me with a child so that I will have other things to do than await my husband so helplessly and forlorn."

"Well, you said that he pleasured you," Lucy tilts her head, "women who have not been pleasured still bea-

Lucy is cut off by the crashing open of the door. She and I both whip back, hearts in our mouths as we stare at our Lord Clegane, who was staring right back at us.

"What's wrong with you?" he demands. The metal of his armor clanks. I eye the one Lucy tidied to the side, the one I undid the night before, and turn back to him. His brown eyes look at me with such intense accusation.

I feel my hands tremble. I cannot for the life of me find the words to speak. 

What did he even mean? How could he ask me this?

"No one has seen you all day," he says, "have you not left this room once?'

"She 'asn't," Lucy snaps, "milady has been feeling-"

"I wasn't talking to you, wench," the Hound does not turn to her when he says this. His eyes are very much still fixed on me, "I'm talking to my wife."

My wife. I look away. That's right, all that I am now is forfeit to him.

I gasp and turn back when I hear him marching over. Lucy places a protective hand on my shoulder and I find myself cowering into her touch. I clench my jaw and gulp when he stops in front of me.

He gazes upon me for the longest second of my life. He furrows his brows, "what's wrong with your fa-"

I flinch when he reaches out to my cheek.

Instantaneously, Lucy tightens her grip on me and blocks him, and Sandor cuts himself off and recoils before he can even touch my skin. He steps a few paces back then clenches his hand as if he'd gotten burnt.

We both evade each other's gaze. Sandor's eyes finally land on Lucy, "has she been crying?"

Lucy's blood boils. She hisses, "yes," then harshly pronounces, "milord."

Sandor turns away and twitches. He rolls his shoulders back and stretches his hands. He knocks on his chest plate. He looks to no one when he asks, "are you hurt?"

Lucy takes no care in masking her scoff or sigh. I take her arm and she watches me shake my head disapprovingly.

I do not look at anyone when I reply either, "I cannot say I'm not... lord husband."

A thick silence builds in the room within a moment.

When I dare too look at the Hound, he is already looking at me and suddenly speaks, "leave us, wench."

I turn to Lucy. She does not move an inch.

I give her an urging shake, but she is steadfast in her spot. Our Lord Clegane turns to her and grinds his teeth, "you will find I do not make habit of repeating myself."

I shoot up from my seat when Lucy presses forward and quips, "and you will find that I will not allow you to treat milady like this."

"Lucy!" I admonish, yanking her back.

Lucy glares daggers at him as I attempt to pacify and persuade her to leave us. Her eyes do not leave him as I sweep her out the room. I instruct her to walk around the gardens for a while then close the door after.

I press my back against the wooden surface as I look back to the man I was now alone with.

Sandor watches me expectantly. I do not say a word, for I did not know what he wanted to hear.

He finally breaks the silence, "you walk well enough."

I am dumbfounded by his choice of words. I dare not respond when I feel my lips quiver; instead, I nod quickly.

Sandor deeply furrows his brows. He shifts on his spot and chances a step in my direction, "why didn't you come out your room then?"

I lick my lips and shake my head. I turn away from him and mutter, "do I appear like I am in the state to be walking around when I look like this?"

"Like what?" he draws nearer.

I whip my head, "THIS!"

Sandor stops in his tracks. He looks at me, expressionless, "this what?"

I scoff in disbelief, feeling tears immediately soak my face. I whisper, "look at me."

"I am, with both eyes."

"And you see nothing?" I mutter shakily, "feel nothing?'

"Should I feel something?"

My chest sinks; it feels like it's caving in. He might as well gut me and spit on my bones. I turn to my feet and wipe my cheeks, "no. I suppose not."

Sandor curses under his breath. He rips at his collar, suddenly feeling his armour weigh down on him. He feels unbelievably hot. He clears his throat, "it hurts."

I look up at him.

"It hurts the first time, usually," he clarifies, "or in times you're not wet enough." He nods, "you were wet enough."

My entire being burns at his words, at his nonchalance. My face is searing in embarrassment and shame.

I want to scream at him, want to hurtle into him and demand to know why he left me, why he was so removed, but then I find the answers in my head. It dawns on me that he acted carelessly because he didn't care. He didn't want this. He didn't want me. All of it was forced. And so I hold my tongue.

Instead, I calmly explain, "my hurt is not bodily, Sandor."

Sandor's stomach rolls at the sound of his name.

"I was," I turn to space between us, "hurt that you left me. And-" I shake my head as tears rush from my eyes, "I've realized now that it's wrong of me to be."

I put a brave face on in spite of my weeping and hold his stare. The man is as stoic and hard as ever. I scoff at myself for feeling this way.

"Worry no longer, Hound," I open the door, "I will not cause you trouble again."

I step back and make way for him to exit.

He looks at me for what feels like an eternity then marches out the door.

"And have you-"

Lucy and I gasp and turn at once.

"-named it yet, Lady Clegane?"

I chuckle guilty, "Lord Varys."

The man nods to me in regard, "good morrow to you."

I curtsy to him, as does my handmaiden. Lucy lifts her skirt as inconspicuously as possible in hopes to block what was behind her.

Varys catches this and waves his hands, "there be no need for that, my dear. The stray is an obedient one, isn't it?"

I share a look with Lucy before we step back and reveal the dog behind us. Daisy was panting and wagging her tail. She had her front paw bent, for it had been broken and healed that way. I had a maester examine it. In the end, he said it was pointless to put a split because it would not fix her leg and Daisy just kept chewing it anyway.

Daisy closes her mouth and sniffs the man.

"Ah," Varys smiles at the creature, "may I pet it?"

Lucy nods and eagerly explains, "she's Daisy; she is incredibly sweet, milord."

Varys cheerfully scratches the crown of the dog's head.

Though he laughs, my own face contorts into an opposite expression, "please make no note of it to my husband."

Varys looks at me exaggeratedly, as though he was offended.

I continue, "she makes me happy."

"One does not need to be told that to know," he presses his lips together. He links his hands, "I imagine you must be rather heavyhearted since the arrival of your womanly bleeding."

I drop my gaze upon hearing this. The master of whispers truly knew all. Lucy turns to me, then back to him, "milord, it's not proper to mention these things."

Varys measures my reaction before turning to Lucy, "yes. I suppose one such as myself has no business speaking of such things." He raises a finger, "still, if you should ever need assistance with that or your stray, know that my services are available to you, my lady."

I smile at him and nod, "I thank you for it, Lord Varys."

With that, he walks away.

"Do you think he will tell him?" Lucy asks as she grabs my arm.

I sigh and turn Daisy.

I've only had her for few days but she's given me purpose. I named her Daisy because she turned up from a bush of daisies while I read in the gardens. I was shocked, puzzled with how she got there, and a little scared she would bite me. When I noticed her injury, I figured she must be very weak and offered her food. She had my heart the moment she licked my fingers.

It was fate, I figured. I had not read in the gardens since the Hound berated me for it, and she came out of nowhere. When I imagine what would have happened to her if anyone else found her, I dread to think of the fact she could have been struck dead. The gods must have sent her to me, to remedy my sorrow and fill in for the absence of my Hound.

I was meant to save Daisy, and she was meant to save me.

I shake my head, "I'll have someone keep her tonight."

The Hound stops in his tracks when he witnesses what he does from afar. A blazing fury engulfs him as he watches two women walk away. The guard, who was spoken to, ogle their figures as they did.

Sandor laughs under his breath, but of course, nothing about this situation was funny to him.

He immediately charges when the guard is left alone, stupidly attending to an open crate-- he'll fucking bash it into his skull.

The guard goes back to his post and spots the approaching giant. At first, he is unfazed by the Hound but fear quickly finds him when he realizes he was heading straight for him.

He does not speak. The Hound simply grabs him by the chest plate, lifts him up and slams him on to the stone wall. He was angry-- worse, he was irrational.

"Why was she speaking to you?!" he snaps, "what business do you have with her?!"

The guard does not waste a second in spilling his guts, "Lady Clegane paid me to watch her dog!" He sounded like he was about to piss his pants.

"What?!" he seethes.

"The crate! The crate! There's a dog in the crate!" 

Sandor shoves him away and walks toward the crate. Lo and behold, the Hound sees the mutt, fur a light shade of brown, tongue out as it pant, right arm curled up.

He draws his sword.

Lucy and I head back to my chambers after eating supper. Our chattering is abruptly cut when he step in and see the Hound's hulking figure.

To say I am shocked is an understatement. I am terrified. He has not come to my chambers since the day after our wedding night, and now, here he was after Lord Varys confronted me. I struggle to swallow the lump in my throat, "my lord, I-"

"Don't you have one too many dogs now?" he growls.

Lucy is unable to hide the sound that leaves her mouth. My eyes begin to water as trepidation rips up my neck. I whisper, "Sandor."

Sandor flinches. He huffs, "what were you doing with it? You playing dolls with it, girl?"

"I saved her!" I explain with a shaky voice. "I fed her, gave her water-"

"Its leg is broken. You keep it in a crate. It's mercy for me to kill it."

Lucy gasps. My stomach drops and I run up to him, "no. Please. Please, tell me you didn't-"

I start when I see something move on the bed. I let out a shaky breath when a bark echoes in the room. I had never been more relieved to see Daisy than now.

Sandor growls, "OFF!" He marches to the bed and charges at the her. I shriek and grab his arm, holding him back. Of course, I nearly shoot forward for what was my strength against his? Still, he turns back to me and huffs. Daisy jumps down the bed and comes to my side.

Lucy grabs her and leads her to the corner of the room.

I continue to beg, "please, don't kill her. Please, I beg of you."

"You pay the guards to watch the mutt," Sandor yanks his arm away; the action hurts my hand. He seethes, "you're better off selling the bitch to a butcher as pig food."

I wail, "it was only this time! I have kept her with me since before." I drop to my knees, "please, I will ask nothing more of you," hot tears burn down all the way down to my chest. "I beg that you just let her live."

Sandor steps back and looks down at me. I can see how pathetic he thinks I am at this moment, and yet I find myself unable to care.

"You will ask me nothing more, aye?" he scoffs. His lips curl, "don't you want a child?"

My expression drops.

"You would rather save the bitch than have a babe?"

I am unable to speak. 

Why is he doing this to me?

"Well?!" he demands.

I screw my eyes shut when some of his spit sputters to my face. I turn to the floor, "she's been keeping me company in your absence. She's-"

"Ah, so that's why she feels so comfortable on the bed. You sleep with her."

I look up at him, about to explain that she sleeps on the floor and has never done that before. I do not have the chance.

"Well then keep your stray," he scoffs, "and have it fuck a babe into you."

The Hound storms off right after.

He grips his hand and his hilt as he marches away.

He should have killed it, he shouldn't have hesitated. The only reason he did was because it didn't flinch at his sword. The mutt was so dumb it had no fear. It even propped on the crate and tried sniffing the steel. Brainless.

His insides feel like they were boiling.

He knew the little girl would weep if he killed it, yet he didn't and there were tears anyway. He curses loudly. It reverberates in the hall.

He should have killed it.

Now it was too late.

"I see you make friends even with stray cats now, my lady."

I look over my shoulder after the cat I was petting runs off because of the voice. Lord Baelish comes up to me, sparing a quick glance to the orange feline that jumped down the wall. He turns back to me with a smile, "pardon me, Lady Clegane, I did not mean to frighten the kitty."

I shake my head, returning a soft smile. I wrap my arms around myself, still not entirely used to the light fabric and freeness of the dresses I've been wearing lately, "it's alright, my lord. The cats do not like people."

Baelish walks in front of me and smiles wider, "they must see you their goddess then."

I shake my head and give a soft chuckle.

"Where is your hound?" he asks.

I stiffen.

He clarifies, "I mean the one with the broken leg."

I release a breath and look out to the view, "I had my handmaiden bathe her."

"Mmm," Baelish looks out to the view with me, "thus why you sought the cats."

A breeze brushes past us.

I do not turn to him, but I know he turns to me. He speaks, "one such as you should not be left alone or unaccompanied."

"Why? Would you hurt me, Lord Baelish?"

He chuckles, "and risk getting mauled by the Hound? I would not."

I watch as a flock of birds fly overhead.

"Other things perhaps," he says.

I do not respond to him.

A moment passes with nothing but looking and silence.

I feel his hot breath when he sighs deeply, "I remember clearly the day I first met you."

Baelish speaks my first name and it's enough to finally make me to turn to him. In truth, my name sounds foreign to me. Who I was has been long overshadowed by Lady Clegane... or, more accurately, the Hound himself.

"You were a vibrant flower. Your fragrance wafted through the room the moment you stepped in," he says, taking one step closer. "Being around you was a privilege; conversing with you, a prize."

I blink at his words, taking in the lines of his face, "and now," I clasp my hands together, "I've withered away, have I?"

His Baelish-blue eyes appear to be solemn. My lips part when he takes my hands in his. He speaks under his breath, "you are more radiant than ever."

I do not move an inch.

"Take heart," he speaks my name again, "hounds are crushed under heels of goddesses."

I pull away from him and shake my head, "do not speak blasphemy with me."

He laughs, bringing his hands behind him, "ever devout and god-fearing." He raises an arm, "shall we part ways by the stables? I will be heading out of the keep."

I debate for a moment. Ultimately, I offer polite smile and decide to agree.

We walk with no sense of urgency. I never knew Petyr to be one for small talk, and so I am surprised that he asks me about my dresses. In truth, I really shouldn't have been.

"Your dresses are Dornish, are they not?" he raises a brow.

"Dornish-like," I clarify, "it was my usual tailor that made my new dresses. I feared if I asked a Dornish tailor for a modest silhouette, I'd be colder than I am now."

We share a soft laugh.

He shrugs, "the style suits you still," he smiles. "Undoubtedly, the Dornes would love to dress you in their more traditional clothing."

I purse my lips and raise my brows, "wouldn't you like that, Petyr?"

He chuckles, slightly in disbelief by the casual referral. He raises his hands, "I said the Dornes. I am not Dornish, my dear."

When we reach the stables, I stop in my tracks, not because we're about to depart, but because his words freeze me in my spot.

"Surely, our Lord Clegane finds it hard to keep his hands off you."

I do my best to stay neutral, to not give myself away. Baelish holds back a smirk.

"Wouldn't you like to know what me and Lord Clegane get up to?"

Baelish laughs, "if I'm being honest, I do."

I roll my eyes at him and nod dismissively, "farewell, my lord."

He nods back with a chuckles, "and you, my lady."

I promptly head to my chambers after this. As I walk on, however, I remember that another day has passed with me not seeing Lord Clegane. I am unsure if it was deliberate or coincidental, but it was the fact either way.

It had been a handful of days since my monthly bleeding passed. I was never a regular bleeder, and when it came this time around, it stayed longer than usual. I was glad with his absence then, in not needing to explain myself to my him. The moment it had finished, however, I expected I would at least see him once.

I did not.

This lead to my decision to be more... seductive.

And, well yes, or course, he yelled at me and told me to have my bitch fuck me instead-- truly, there was a large pit of dread in my stomach because of this, but people say a lot of things in anger, things they don't mean. He could not have meant that.

I rub my belly, willing the dread away.

I refuse to believe he meant that.

I suck in a breath and decide to head to the king's chambers.

Besides, I've been assured over and under that men really like making babies.

My breath hitches when I catch sight of the Hound, guarding the door. I see him do a double take when he spots me, and yet he gazes into space in the end.

"Good evening, my lord," I curtsy at him.

He grunts with exasperation, "what are you doing here?"

"I wanted," I measure my words carefully, "to request you not stay out late tonight."

The man turns his head fully to me, "what?"

I feel my throat itch. I clear my throat, "I was hoping that you come to my chambers before too late."

Sandor shifts in his spot. He eyes me up and down. I feel like I am being burned alive under his gaze.

He looks away and shifts back in place.

I open my mouth but I don't get to speak at all.

"Dog. Dog! Come inside, I-" King Joffrey calls but then ceases when he steps out of the room and sees me. 

I immediately curtsy, "my king. Good evening."

Joffrey raises a brow and demands to know why I'm here, referring to me by the house I was born into.

I offer him a smile, "I wanted to speak to my lord husband, your grace."

His face contorts in deep bewilderment. He opens his mouth and raises a finger, "why would you come h-" he turns to the Hound and stops himself. He breaks into a laugh. He laughs so hard that he clutches his stomach, "oh!" He wheezes, "oh, I've forgotten about that!"

King Joffrey calms down with a sigh. He from to his Kingsguard then to me, eyeing my attire. He chuckles under his breath as his eyes rake me down, "I see your wife has dressed to seduce you, dog." His looks up to my face, "or wouldn't that make you bitch?"

I do not respond for a moment, put on the spot by his malice, but then my wits finally meet me. I curtsy to the king, "I am what my king makes me to be."

Joffrey laughs airily. He shakes his head, "my, dog," he turns to his guard, "I've truly matched you well," he pats his shoulder plate, "too well, in fact."

He then retreats into his chambers, calling out as he did, "you're dismissed, dog. Breed your bitch as you like."

The door slams shut.

I release a breath once the king leaves, clutching my belly as I did so.

Sandor does not move an inch from his spot. He does not look at me.

I begin to get nervous all over again. I try, "husband?"

"You think I'll answer to your whistle just because you're dressed like a whore?"

My face hardens. I look away from him. I mean I expected as much.

I swallow the lump in my throat, "I only wanted to please you-"

He scoffs.

I look back at him, "I will dress more modestly if it is what you'd like."

"I'd like not to see you whoring around."

I am unable to withhold my scoff, "I am what my lord makes me out to be."

The Hound finally spares me a glance. I glare at him as I curtsy, "apologies for the impertinence." I turn on my heels and walk away. My anger and vexation gets the best of me. I cannot help but jeer, "if my dress angers you so, take it off me then."

Sandor shifts on his spot.

I continue down the hall.

His lips curl as he growls lowly, "run."

I do not hear anything but my own grumbling.

"Run, little girl!" he barks, making me jolt and turn back to him with a scowl. The irritation is apparent in my face as I stop at the end of the hall, "what?"

The Hound begins to march over. My heart races as I hear him warn, "run, if you know what's good for you"

I begin to shuffle back.

"I'll tear that shit off your body when I catch you."

I break into a sprint at the sound of his threat.

I don't look back. I heave heavily as I rush down the halls. I don't hear him chasing after me, though once I'm far, I see him treading fast as the times he's dragged me by the arm. My stomach flurries with anxiousness and regret.

When I reach my chambers, I mentally debate whether or not I should lock the door. I gulp at the idea of him breaking it down. I decide I do not want a memory such as that to be branded into my brain.

I gasp when he bursts into the room. I grip my skirts from the edge of the bed where where I sat.

The Hound locks the door before walking over to me. He grabs my shoulders and shoves me down on my belly.

I squeak when he grabs my skirts and rips it all the way up my ribs. He scoffs, "fucking parchment."

I hear him grab something by my vanity. I do not dare to look at him. I proceed to hear him undo his armor and his clothes.

I hear a pop. I yelp when he grabs my smallclothes and yanks them down. I groan into the cushions when I feel his fingers toy with my folds.

"Don' fink you nee' vis," he speaks like something was in his mouth. He pulls his hand away and suddenly the smell of my lavender oil assaults my senses. I hear a squelch. Something is thrown to my side; it's my vial.

I squeak when he grabs my hips. He sighs, "you're ready on your own." We both make noises when he begins to thrust into me. The Hound growls, "little girl likes to be chased."

I am shoved into the cushions. My entire body tenses.

"You want to dress like a whore," he taunts, "I'll fuck you like a whore."

His tempo is brutal and harsh. He does not relent or give me leeway. It's strange and shameful that my body even feels tingles of pleasure.

I cannot help the screams that rip out of my throat. Had I not been faced down on the cushion, I fear that I would have woken the dead.

I call out his name when he hoists my hips up. My toes could no longer touch the floor. He begins moving faster. My hands dig into the sheets. I feel my eyes water.

The Hound howls. He shoves me down and suddenly my feet are on the ground. He plunges deep, it makes my eyes roll back. His thrusts become increasingly irregular and after with a few more slaps, he stops.

I catch my breath, thanking the gods he's shown mercy.

I whine when I feel him pull away. I gulp and shift on my spot. I anticipate his next movements. I hear a rustle. I lift my head up and look back at him, confused by the sight of him tying himself up.

Was... was it done?

"Don't think to have that dress mended, girl," he pants as he grabs something from the floor. I roll on my back, feeling uneasy because of the wetness between my thighs. I watch him unlock the door and slam the door on his way out.

All hells were breaking loose. King's Landing was under attack, the castle was on fire, and Stannis Baratheon was winning.

All the women and children holed up in the queen's retreat chamber spilled out to gods know where.

My mind was racing, yet all I could think was: run, flee, Lucy, Daisy, Hound.

I was already running. I was already fleeing. I was doing both with Lucy in my grip. I had Lucy, but I did not have Daisy.

We were running up to my chambers. I left Daisy there, my poor Daisy. We were fleeing up the stairs in haste, sparing no time to catch a breath.

I had no idea what we were to do. We could bar the door, block it with our bed. Lucy and I could manage it, I think. Was it a good idea? Would it guarantee our safety? There was only one way we'd know.

I quickly open the door and lock it once Lucy and I are inside.

We take a moment to finally catch our breath. Lucy grabs my arms and I grab hers. I can feel her shaking. I rub her skin, "it will be alright. No harm will reach us here."

Lucy shakes her head, "milday, you and me both know that's not true."

My heart shatters when I catch the way her eyes water. "Shhh," I pull her into a hug, "have I ever failed you, Lucy?"

She seals her arms around me and whispers, "no."

"Nothing will happen to us," I rub her back, "I will protect you."

"And I, you," she pulls away, "as will Daisy," she wipes her tears before they fall, "and the 'ound."

We scream when we hear a voice in the room. We press our back against the wall and turn to the bed. A figure is sat on the floor by its side. What was said was, "your mutt is stupid."

Lucy and I clutch each other for dear life. I recognized that voice. I muster the courage to tiptoe towards the figure and breathe out shakily when I confirm the presence, "Sandor?"

The man turns to me as we walk up to him. Sandor had Daisy on his lap. She looked up and blinked at me before closing her eyes. She was being pet a bloody hand and did not mind at all.

"She was jumped on me when I walked in. She looked excited," he turns to Daisy, "stupid bitch. Anyone else would have chopped her up."

I find myself releasing a breath of relief. Here now was Daisy, and Hound. I had nothing left to think about.

I walk up to him, kneeling on his side. He turns to me. I examine his face, dirtied and bloodied, "are you hurt?"

He looks at me for a moment. I watch him slowly raise his hand. He cautiously touches my cheek. I clutch his wrist in my hands. He swipes his thumb on my skin, "save your tears." I didn't even know I shed them. "None of the fuckers got close enough to try."

He draws his hand back. He grunts as he gets to his feet. Daisy moves back, wobbling on her three legs; I move back too.

"Take your valuables," the Hound grunts, "we're fucking leaving."

I pull my head back. I watch the man survey the room.

Lucy runs up to my side and she wipes my cheek with her skirt. She watches the red collect on the fabric and wonders who it belonged to. She wagers it's not from her lord.

I shake my head in confusion as Sandor grabs a satchel and stuffs my jewelry in it, "I don't understand. Aren't you going to fight?"

"Fuck the fight," he quips as he shoves objects down and raids through the drawers and closets.

Lucy finishes wiping my face. I walk off and grab all my hidden pouches of gold. I hand it to Sandor, "what about the king?"

"Fuck the king," he takes the pouches and stuffs it into the bag, "fuck him especially."

Sandor then chucks the satchel to Lucy, who grunts when she catches it.

"The stupid fuck's done nothing but fuck around," he picks up Daisy, propping her front legs on his shoulder, "no good thing's come from that fuck." He takes me by the hand and mumbles, " 'cept for one."

He releases me only to unlock the door and hold me again. He does not let me go until we reach the outside of the keep.

The whole lot was in disarray; dead bodies, debris, and fire littered the scene. He hands me Daisy, and I struggle slightly to carry her, considering she was not a small breed. He walks not too far off and brings a wandering horse over.

It's a wonder we do not encounter anyone on this side of the castle, more so that we find a horse.

Sandor takes Daisy and puts her down before helping me mount the steed. My stomach rolls with how his touch lingered on my thigh once I was on.

Next, he took the satchel from Lucy and handed it to me. He then eyed her when she stepped forward, as if debating whether or not he wanted to bring her along. Before she or I could speak up about it, Sandor is already helping her climb up behind me. Lucy takes the satchel from me and eyes him after. He rolls his eyes.

He picked up Daisy and tried handing her to me. However, she struggled too much and could not fit in my arms, so he cursed and threw her back onto his shoulders. He grabbed the horse's reins and started walking.

"Fucking bitch, fucking wench, fucking horse, fucking war, fucking-"

[achromatophoric]

Enid: Willa, would you still love me if I was a worm?

Wednesday: Querida, if you were a worm, I would cultivate you. My every cut would be as surgically precise as your extraction of my heart. Your flesh I would divide, until it outnumbered the stars within your galaxy eyes.

Wednesday: I would cherish those trillion pieces of you as if they were my own atomized soul. Every single squirming sliver would be nurtured and nourished by my implacable adoration. Beloved. Seen.

Wednesday: Then, once those fragments have regenerated into a plethora of planarian perfection, a grandiose banquet shall be held in your honor. As the lone attendant, armored in my finest funeral blacks, I would gorge myself upon that raw feast of writhing you.

Wednesday: Simply put, my dearest Enid, if you were a worm, I would let you infest me.

Enid: O! M! G! Isn’t she just like, the most romantic ever?! 🥰

Yoko: 🤢

Divina: 🤢

Kent: 🤮

Eugene: 🤓 *gets the flatworm reference*

Bianca: Fucking Christ. I don’t know whether to hire a psychiatrist or a hostage negotiator.

[peachsukii]

unbreakable bonds ꒰ no quirks au | childhood friends | friends to lovers ꒱ ⇢ a collective of family bonding and little moments between you and katsuki.

『♡』  k.bakugo x fem!reader ꒰ tags & content ꒱ emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, happiness all around ⋆ ˚ʚɞ — just wanted to write something sickly sweet and it’s been sitting in my drafts forever. reader has a little sister that helps bond the two of you together over the years. cross posted to ao3 | word count; 3.3k -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

You were too young - a little over three - to understand the day your mom brought home your little sister. You'd been secretly asking the universe for a sibling, someone to share everything with. Ask and you shall receive! But, you never knew just how much she would shape your life into what it is today.

The Kingdom - Elementary School

Fourth grade is when you and Katsuki started to play after school together on a daily basis. Him and Izuku would come by and grab snacks from your mom while you went back to the park around the corner, playing pirates and super heroes with the other neighborhood kids. Every so often, your mom would ask for you to bring your sister along. You never minded, even though she was your baby sister in first grade. The boys would pick on her - lovingly, of course - to make her feel included with the rest of the pack. She loved being around you, cooing and giggling away as she'd hold your hand and squeal with delight.

One day at the park, she'd declared herself to be queen of the castle as she stood on the slide, proudly puffing out her chest with her hands on her hips.

"I am the queen, and what I say goes!" she pointed to you and Katsuki. "Sissy will be the princess and you will be our royal guard, Katsu!"

You chuckle. "Isn't the older sister supposed to be queen?"

She does her best impression of a royal laugh, projecting her voice theatrically. "Not in my land! It's my kingdom and if you don't like it, I'll send you to the brig!"

"You're confusin' pirates 'n princesses again,” Katsuki taunts playfully.

She stomps her foot on the slide. “Silence in my kingdom! Izu will be my knight!”

Katsuki pouts. “Hey! Why don’t I get to be the knight?!’

“Cause I say so! You’re the royal guard cause you’re tough. Izu is the knight because he’s brave!”

You can’t help but let out a loud ‘hah!’ at her comment. Your sister never failed to push Katsuki in the cutest ways - he probably was thankful to be an only child whenever you guys would go home for the day.

Katsuki huffs at her declaration, taking the challenge with stride. “Fine! I’ll show you who’s tough and be the best dang guard in the whole world.”

“Do I get a cool set of armor, queen?” Izuku asks, bouncing up and down at the bottom of the slide.

“Of course! Only the best armor and ponies for my royal kingdom.”

She sits and pushes herself down the metal slide, rocketing off the edge past Izuku and barreling toward Katsuki. She trucks into him at full force - but, being small, that force isn’t much for him to withstand.

“What the heck was that for?!” he yells while catching her before she hits the wood chips.

“A test of your toughness, Katsu! And you passed! You’re deserving of a spot in my kingdom,” she giggles, mashing his cheeks together with her tiny palms. He protests her closeness and tries to fight her off, setting her feet back on the ground while she’s wiggling in his hold. Watching the two of them act like siblings themselves always made you feel so warm and fuzzy inside, knowing your two closest friends also adored your sister as much as you did.

You meander over to grab her from him. “Alright, I think you made your point, queen. Your guard and knight have other duties to get to.”

She waves goodbye to the boys over her shoulder as the two of you stroll home for dinner. She gleefully remarks how cool they are and that she can’t wait to marry them someday.

You can’t help but giggle at the thought. “Both of them? Wow, all to yourself, huh?”

She pouts and whips her head upward. “No, sissy! We both get one!”

”Oh yeah? Because you’re the queen of the kingdom, you get to pick?”

“That’s right! They’ll have to fight to see who gets to pick you!”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head at the thought. You’re only ten years old, the thought of boys fighting over you was hilarious.

”Promise not to tell Izu, but I think Katsu would win that fight,” she whispers, tugging on your hand to get you to lean over closer to her face. “He’s taller and faster!”

The thought of marrying Katsuki flashes in your mind - you have zero clue what that even looks like, but you imagine him bringing you flowers on the playground or giving you a bite of his ice cream. A blush creeps over your cheeks and nose at the thought. Your sister catches your reaction and gasps dramatically.

“You like Katsu?!” she exclaims.

You shush her. “No! Don’t go yelling that!”

That’s a big fat lie. You liked him a lot, he was your favorite person, but you’re kids.

It’s just a harmless crush.

───

An Enchanted Afternoon - Elementary School

A week later, the four of you returned to the playground after school. Snacks from your pantry in hand, the bunch of you sit on the swing set to eat. Your sister seemed extremely eager today, more so than usual. Once you all finished eating, she demanded your attention.

"Gather 'round! Your queen summons you," she declares, arms raised above her head. You and the boys huddle around her.

"Katsu, go fetch flowers!" she orders as she points to a nearby patch of grass. "Zuzu, clear out the sandbox of any villagers."

There wasn't anyone else here today, so that job was easily done. Izuku doesn't say anything and smiles as he heads over to the sandbox as ordered. Katsuki is confused, nose scrunched and arms crossed.

"Why do I need to get flowers?" he asks, tapping his foot in the wood chips.

"Do you dare defy your queen?!" she shouts, grinning wickedly. He obliges, sauntering over to the grass to find a few spare daisies.

"What's all this for?" you ask, genuinely curious to her plans. She doesn’t answer you as she grabs you by the wrist, dragging you over to the sandbox.

A few minutes later, Katsuki comes back with a handful of daisies, picked and pruned clean of any dirt and weeds. Izuku stands on the edge of the sandbox patiently.

”Perfect! Katsu, Sissy, please approach your queen.”

You play along and stand in front of her with Katsuki. It’s amusing how small she is in comparison to the two of you, easily shadowing over her figure.

“With my knight as witness, I give the blessing to the princess and royal guard to be married forever!” she exclaims, waving her hands around to mimic casting a magic spell.

You're pretty sure she got that line from a princess movie, but that doesn't make the sentiment any less adorable. You begin to chuckle to yourself, smiling ear to ear before turning toward Katsuki. You're expecting him to be disgusted, repulsed by something so sickly sweet, but are shocked to see him standing with the flowers outstretched in your direction. He's biting his bottom lip and avoiding eye contact by staring directly at your feet.

"H-here," he whispers meekly, pushing the flowers into your hands. You've never seen him so shy before - that's usually Izuku's demeanor. His unexpected affection makes your little heart flutter in your chest.

"Thank you 'Suki," is all you can muster up the courage to say, your mind running blank on the right thing to say. It's just an imaginary scenario...It's not real, not like you're actually marrying him. Katsuki exhales, turning his back to you to hide his strawberry colored cheeks.

"Now you're together forever!" you sister raves, dancing on her tip toes with satisfaction.

Maybe that was the moment she bound you two together with some unknown magical force, or it was a mere coincidence. The sappy part of your young brain believed in fairytales and chose to believe she was weaving your golden string to him, binding you two for life.

───

Leftovers - Middle School

”Yo, brats! Come eat already so I can get the hell outta here,” Katsuki called from your doorway. He’d come by with leftovers from his mom for you and your sister, since your own mom was working later that day. The two of you were still…friends? You weren’t sure. Being in seventh grade and all, he started acting like you weren’t cool enough for him. He did the same to Izuku, starting to ditch the two of you for other kids in class to hang out with at lunch or walk home with. Did it hurt your feelings? Absolutely. But you didn’t own him, he was allowed to have other friends, even if it did suck to see him less outside of class.

“Coming!” you called back, skipping down the hallway with your sister in tow. She happily ran into the entryway, hugging Katsuki by the waist. She was taller now, but still much smaller than him as a fourth grader.

“Hiya Katsu!” she gleamed up at him, rubbing her face against his uniform jacket.

He grunted, uncomfortable with her sudden affection and poking her in the forehead to release her grip. “Let go, squirt!”

He turned his attention to you as your sister finally let go of him. “Here, take these. I gotta get to practice.”

”Thank you! Tell your mom we said hi.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You hand the containers to your sister as she wanders off to the table. Before Katsuki opens the door, you tap him on the shoulder.

“Hey, are you alright?”

He scoffs at your question. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem distant lately. Wanna come by sometime for a movie marathon?” you ask, tilting your head and giving him a warm smile.

“We’re not kids anymore. Got better stuff to do.”

Ouch, that stung. Your smile fades away as you reply. “Well…I know. I just miss hanging out with you.”

“You have Deku an’ that other group of bitches you hang out with, ya don’t need me.” His harsh comment has notes of jealousy intertwined in his words. He goes to put his hand on the door again before you take a step forward to stop him.

“Kat, they’re not a replacement for you. You’ve got your own friends now, too since you’re on the soccer team. You’re saying we can’t hang out 'cause we have different friends?”

He glares at you before pushing past you and pulling on the front door.

“Hey!” your sister shouts from the dining area. “Katsu, that’s not nice. My royal guard doesn't act like that!” She’s always thought of Katsuki as a guard since your elementary school playground days.

“Cut the shit! We’re not kids anymore!” Katsuki rebuttals with a growl of frustration.

He makes eye contact with you. “We’ve grown apart, end of fuckin’ story. Get over it.”

He slams your front door closed and leaves you standing in the entryway, your eyes stinging from the urge to cry. You feel a small gust of wind rush by as your sister is sprinting to the door, throwing it open and running outside without shoes on.

“Hey!” She calls after Katsuki. “Get your butt back here, Katsu!”

He turns on his heel. “Hah?!”

She stomps on the ground, fists balled at her sides. “Apologize to her!”

Katsuki cackles, a little too manically. “For what, brat?”

“You’re being a mean jerk to her! She doesn’t deserve to be yelled at like that. Friends are friends forever, idiot!” she yells, her cheeks puffed and eyebrows scrunched together.

You can’t help but stifle a laugh at her calling Katsuki an idiot and turn your head to hide your amusement.

”That’s not who you are, Katsu. That’s not how you treat your princess!”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and screws his eyes shut in annoyance, exhaling dramatically. He locks his gaze on you, storming back up to the doorway. He roughly ruffles your sister’s hair as he passes by her as a pseudo apology. Katsuki sucks the air through his teeth and shoves his fists in his pockets as he stops in front of you.

“Look, ‘m sorry for yellin’, okay?” he sighs, kicking a foot against the pavement. “I'll come over Saturday, we’ll have that movie day ya wanted.”

"You don't need to if you feel forced to hang out with me." Your eyes shift to your feet to avoid looking at his reaction.

" 's fine. I'll be here at noon, don't pick anything lame."

With that, he turns to leave for a second time in silence. You watch him disappear around the corner and can't help but feel like a burden for asking him to make time for you. As if reading your mind, your sister shakes you out of the negative train of thought while walking back to the house.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s just being a dumb boy. That’s what my teacher says when boys are mean for no reason.” She grins a toothy smile up at you and grabs your hand. “Come on! Foods getting cold!”

Katsuki rounded the corner and waited to be out of sight before palming his face in anger. He had no idea why he said those things to you. None of it was true, especially that you’d grown apart. If anything, he was jealous of your friends and missed seeing you all the time. But he couldn’t bring himself to say so, like always. Ever since middle school started, he’d harbored some unknown rage inside of him that lashed out every chance it could. He hated it and didn’t know what to do to stop it - hence trying out for the soccer team, looking for an outlet for the pent up emotions in his body.

Katsuki secretly hoped you wouldn’t end up despising him for it. Even after all this time, he still thinks of you whenever he sees a patch of daisies.

Maybe one day he’d be brave enough to tell you about it.

───

Running Late - High School

The front door to your home opens as Katsuki slips inside, kicking his loafers off by the door. Your younger sister peaks over the kitchen counter while spreading jam over her toast and nods in his direction.

"Hey Katsu, pretty sure she's still asleep upstairs," she calls, rolling her eyes. "I tried to get her up three times, maybe you'll have better luck."

It was hard to believe that she was already in her freshmen year of high school - shit, it’s crazy that you and Katsuki were seniors. The age of playground days and summer adventures went by in the blink of an eye.

He makes his way to the kitchen island, leaning over to ruffle your sister’s hair - some things never change.

"Thanks, bean. I'll get her ass movin’."

“Stooop! You’ll mess up my hair!” She whines as she pulls away, fixing a few stray pieces of her fluffy mane.

“Ya look fine, don’t sweat it,” he compliments while heading for the staircase. He makes his way to your bedroom on the second floor. The door is surprisingly cracked open - he taps on the doorframe to grab your attention.

“Come in,” you call, lying on your bed facing the wall above the covers while scrolling on your phone. You presume it’s your sister until a soft kiss is planted on your cheek.

“Mornin’ sweets,” Katsuki whispers, rubbing your shoulder to turn you to face him. He sits on the edge of your bed beside you. “You wanna be late for our last first day of high school?”

You shift to sit up and drop your phone to your bed, reaching to cradle his face in your hands.

“No, I just wanted to steal a few kisses first,” you mumble as your lips quietly meet his. Katsuki places one hand on your cheek while the other lightly grazes your back. After a few moments, the two of you part with a soft smack. You stand and straighten up your uniform skirt, flattening a few of the panels to work out any stray creases.

“Do I look okay?” You ask, spinning around for Katsuki and showing off your uniform. Your hair was pulled into a pretty ponytail with a few pieces framing your face. The only make up you had on was some lip gloss - you valued sleeping in over doing a minimalist makeup look today.

“Y’always look good,” he sighs, standing to his feet. “Let’s get movin’ before bean suspects somethin’.”

You hadn’t told your sister about your relationship with Katsuki. Sure, you guys had been friends since you were children and he’s always around…how would she know the difference?

The two of you patter down the hallway and skip down the stairs to the kitchen. Your sister is waiting for the two of you, arms crossed and tapping one foot impatiently.

“Finally! Get your damn shoes on,” she orders while pushing you toward the door. She does a double take at Katsuki while you’re putting on your shoes, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Katsu…are you wearing lipgloss?”

Oops.

Katsuki’s searching for something to say as his face glows scarlet. He puts a hand on the back of his neck and turns away, grumbling while attempting to hide his embarrassment.

“Oh come on, you two. I knew you guys started dating months ago. You think I didn’t notice?”

You spin around to face her, cheeks puffed and eyebrows scrunched. “You never said anything?!”

She laughs, walking up to Katsuki and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“If you ever hurt her, Katsuki, I’ll knock your lights out. I know where you sleep,” she threatens, grinning mischievously. Katsuki pulls her into a headlock, ruffling her hair a second time.

“Deal, but I plan on stayin’ alive.” He lets her go, chuckling as he smooths out the pieces of hair he messed with.

Seeing the two of them get along never fails to make your heart swell with joy. Katsuki has always treated her like his own sister - one that he could easily give back at the end of every day, anyways.

She turns with a huff with her hands in the air.

“You both have my blessing, you should know that. I didn’t marry you two in a sandbox for nothing!”

───

Today Was A Fairytale - Current Day

“It’s an honor to be doing this for a second time. You’re in luck, my vocabulary has grown exponentially since our sandbox days.”

There’s a wave of laughter through the crowd at your sister’s lighthearted joke. You can’t help but smile as Katsuki’s fingers dance across the back of your hand to regather your attention.

God, he looks so damn handsome in that tux. His usual wild hair is slicked back and tamed - an extremely rare sight. Carmine eyes stare back at you, full of devotion and excitement for this next chapter in your fairytale.

“By the power vested in me, and these people as my witness, I pronounce you two as king and queen of the kingdom!”

Friends and family alike cheer and whistle as you and Katsuki intertwine, kissing each other for the first time as husband and wife. He spins you around and dips you low, kissing the tip of your nose playfully.

“I love you,” he mouths, a silent profession of adoration - reserved just for you.

The two of you strut down the aisle to the dance floor in the reception hall, the DJ already queuing the first dance song. Katsuki gently tugs you by the waist, pulling you closer to him as he begins to sway side to side when the music begins to fill the room. You rest your head against his chest and get lost in the moment.

Right now, the world belongs to the two of you. Every worry, struggle, and hardship is stripped away from your lives to give you the peace you deserve.

There’s one thought that lingers in your mind as you catch a glimpse of your teary-eyed sister watching you from the corner of the dance floor, latched onto Izuku’s arm for support.

She tied that golden string with an unbreakable knot.

tags 💥 @slayfics @maddietries @queenpiranhadon

[aonungsmate]

Hellllooo

So I was reading ao’nung x reader fanfics and like I came up with an idea that was stuck to my head ever since. So like there’s a sound on TikTok where it’s like : “you’re not good enough for my daughter and I don’t want you to be around her, end of story” …..”so why don’t you give me one last chanc-“ but on ao’nung x sully!reader where she’s like younger than neteyam and Lo’ak, she’s the kind of girl who can be strict but gentle at the same time, help her grandma and mom to make food, heals, the type of girl that dads would be like “girls like you shouldn’t be bla bla bla” the type to walk grandmas on the cross way, type to open a bakery by herself and call it the Sully’s Family Bakery 💀 . So ao’nung wanted to court the reader but Jake, Neteyam and Lo’ak aim buying it so ao’nung had to come with some Metkayina specialty and gifts and maybe even fruitier a song 💀 but Jake is just a protective dad and it turned down to reader scolding 4 dudes who’s like almost twice her size about how she’s mature enough to know who would treat her right and stuff and kiri, Tuk and neytiri is just enjoying the scene 💀

I Hold The World, But You

Ao'nung x Sully!Reader[Word count: 2.8k]

Ask and you shall receive- This is me ditching my written reports to feed all of you <33 Thank you so much for requesting anon!

Warnings: Nothing notable! Please do inform me if there is!

Ao’nung has never really known what it means to be alive.  He never faced any oppression nor any hardship of notable difficulty due to his social status.  Being the son of the olo’eyktan entails so much prestige, but he’s never really known how to live.  Not until he met you.

The moment you were born, you have always known the dangers of living.  Having been born into a family with warrior parents, who were both victims of war, evident pain is still visible in their eyes.  You were Jake Sully and Neytiri te Tskaha Mo'at'ite’s third child, their first-born daughter after they decided to call Grace’s daughter, Kiri, their very own.  Growing up as the daughter of the Toruk Makto and olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya meant bearing the horrors of reality that the na’vi have been facing for years.  Your father was deemed responsible for leading the forest people into many victories against the sky people, along with your mother and the former olo’eyktan, Tsu'tey te Rongloa Ateyitan, one of the finest warriors that the omatikaya clan who was known for leading the na’vi against the RDA forces in the assault on The Tree of Souls.  

“I tried to kill your father the first time we met.”

Having been born into Jake Sully’s family meant so much more than being a warrior’s child.  Your childhood was filled with love.  Your older brothers, Neteyam and Lo’ak, complete polar opposites but are both very protective of their younger siblings.  Neteyam, the finest candidate for the next olo’eyktan, the one who obeys to live up to expectations and earn the title of being a mighty warrior, and Lo’ak, the older brother who gets into so much trouble  to try and live up to expectations, most protective of you, but incomparable to your father, who acts as both armor and bow against the dangers of the world.

You grew up being taken care of by your older sister Kiri, befriending nature through her imaginative mind and immense affinity for connecting herself with the things that surround her.  Your family always knew that there was something special going on between Kiri and the world itself.  As if she’s connected to the things you see everyday, she would always see things from a perspective that you would assume Eywa would have.  

The scientists were not the only people left in Pandora.  You have also been introduced to Spider, a human child that was too young to be put through the cryo chambers.  He has greeted each of you as friends, and you do the same with him.  Despite your mother’s distaste in his presence, she couldn’t really do anything, for you and your siblings loved him as you would a friend.  You thought he was a strong person.  Someone you look up to, because he always seems to overcome his limitations as a human.

It wasn’t long before Tuktirey was born.  The most adorable sister you could ever have, although a bit of a telltale, much to your brother’s chagrin, she was loved by the whole family.  She looks like a bit of your father, and a bit of your mother.  Tuk practically looks like a mix of your parents.  You love it when she would play with your braids.  But most of all, you love it when she would turn to you for more stories and dreams that you would have, carrying the innocent curiosity that a child like her would have.  

You loved your siblings.  You really do.

But right now?  Things are just being so ridiculous.

“No, you cannot court my sister, Ao’nung,” Neteyam shook his head firmly, placing a protective arm in front of you, attempting to shield you from your suitor.  There your brother was again.  He’s having one of those stingy fits where he would deprive you and your lover of spending time together.  Apparently, there was this thing called ‘codes’, where you cannot see your friend’s sister in a romantic way.  The idea of it was ridiculous for you.  

Really.

“Brother, you cannot have a say in this.  You are not the one who is being courted,” you pushed his hand away, flashing a bashful smile at Ao’nung, being enraptured by his viridian eyes.  Your eyes were swirling with love and a mix of nervousness as they met those of Ao’nung’s, only to be interrupted by Neteyam.  “You are not to be courted by him (y/n), that is final.” 

Just what bad deed have you done to deserve this?  You obeyed your elders, went to hunt when told to, helped your fellow na’vi when being asked for help, learned healing, and healed others.  Eywa!  You even learned to cook many dishes after hearing your grandmother complain about how the food being prepared is becoming bland, if it were not for her cooking teylu.  You would always say yes to anything that your family asks of you.  

You always thought that you would not be able to say no to your family.  Maybe there are things that do surprise you.  Just like how your brother Lo’ak, is hissing at Ao’nung at this very moment.  

“What is going on?” you ran towards the direction of the two young men, carrying firewood that your mother had asked you to fetch for her.  There, you found your older brother hissing at your friend, for an unknown reason that somehow, you didn’t want to know.  Therefore, being the most resourceful person in the scene, you opted for the firewood, pushing them in your brother's arms and pulling him away from the metkayina boy.  “I am sorry Ao’nung, we will see you tomorrow!”  With a sweet smile on your lips, how could Ao’nung complain?  A boy who’s as smitten as him could never go against your wishes to stop the fight before it escalates.  Ao’nung’s head always tends to tell him to go big or go home, but right now, that saccharine smile was his priority.  He wouldn’t take the risk and make you cry, no.  

He would rather battle a hundred akula than do that.  He vowed to protect you after all.  

Even from himself.

But that one just seemed impossible.  He feels Eywa whispering to him that you are his muntxate.  

He sees you as someone he would spend the rest of his life with.

Arriving at your marui, you sighed at your father’s questioning gaze after just seeing you drag your older brother back, as if he was asking just what trouble he got up to.  

“What is it this time, Lo’ak?”  He crossed his arms, tapping his left foot in impatience.  You squinted at your father, knowing how he’d react if he knew he was in a disagreement with Ao’nung.  

“Dad, I found him hissing at Ao’nung again–!” “You telltale–  I knew that bastard had a bad influence on you!” Lo’ak hissed, his tail swaying back and forth with betrayal written on his eyes.  You scoffed, side-eyeing him for a second before facing your father with pleading eyes.  

“Bravo Zulu–” “Dad!” you yelled in disbelief, your jaw dropping when your father shook Lo’ak’s hand with pride evident on his face, menacing grins both on their faces.  You could feel a migraine turning into aneurysm when your eldest brother entered the marui, “Dad, you wouldn’t believe Ao’nung– Oh, you’re here baby sis!”  He chuckled nervously once he noticed your small figure in front of his father.  You responded with a glare, crossing your arms at the three men towering over you who take pleasure in making Ao’nung suffer.  

Clearing his throat, Neteyam puts a hand on your shoulder, coaxing you out of the pod, telling you that he has something to share with your father and Lo’ak.  Refusing to be excluded in a conversation you knew was going to be about how they were going to torment the metkayina you love, you stood your ground and bore your fangs, something that you did very seldom towards your family.  

“No.” 

Neteyam squinted at you in return, turning to your father for help, instantly getting his support in a matter of a few seconds.  “Yeah babygirl, we really need to talk about that trouble tailing your shadow every minute of the day, ‘kay?”  Your father said, giving you a smile of reassurance and pressed a kiss on your forehead that did not faze you, even for a bit.  Fate seems to be on your father’s side as you heard your mother calling for you in the background.  You groaned in annoyance, rubbing a palm on your face causing Lo’ak to snicker at you, “Oh yeah sis, best get moving before mom gives you a whooping huh?”  

You’d definitely get back at him when the time comes for him and Tsireya.

Bearing no choice in the matter, you were forced to evacuate your home and walked towards the direction of your mother. 

Your brothers and your father on the other hand, were having the time of their lives imparting their knowledge about your suitor and what they would be doing whenever they would see the boy approach you.  They have devised ‘the most sneaky’ plans to make Ao’nung back out in his courting, but were not able to deduce that the said young man was actually on his way to their pod as they were conversing with each other, bringing them to this very moment.

“I would like to court your daughter, sir.  She is as beautiful as the ocean, and her whole being might as well be my sustenance as I cannot imagine life without her.”

The na’vi are known to be spiritually connected to Eywa, singing and dancing is embedded in their hearts.  So no one could really blame Ao’nung when he broke into a song.

“I want to court your daughter,” he started, undulating notes while clenching his fist.

His eyes meet Lo’ak’s and then Neteyam’s, going back to Jake’s, “I know you don’t think I ought to.”  He smiled, reminiscing his earliest memories with you, a smile tugging at his lips, “I’m not bad, I’m a great guy you’ll see,”

“I think that you should be–”

They were all sitting on the marui, silence overtaking when Jake suddenly slammed a hand on the floor, hiding his face from view, until Lo’ak burst into fits of laughter, wheezing at Ao’nung his father and Neteyam following suit.  Ao’nung chose to ignore Lo’ak’s outburst, pursing his lips in deep contemplation.  He would definitely get him back for this when he asks his parents to court Tsireya.  Ao’nung licked his lips out of nervousness, seeking validation from your father’s eyes.

“I’ll be honest Ao’nung.  I don’t care if you're the goddamn chief’s son,” Jake straightened his posture, emphasizing that he was much mightier than Ao’nung was at the moment, he was Toruk Makto for god’s sake.  “You’re not good enough for my daughter, and I don’t want you around her, end of story.”  

Ao’nung winced at Jake’s statement, his insecurities taking over his mind.  He was the mightiest hunter in the clan that’s for sure, but who’s to say that you were looking for a hunter?  A na’vi as charming and lovely as you is sought by most men.  He would know because you were much like his sister, whom he finds himself being protective of, most of the time. 

“With all due respect JakeSully, I understand why you are being protective of her.  I have a sister myself, and might I remind you, your son desires to court her too–  So why don’t you give me one last–”

“Get outta here.”

He sang his heart out, yet he still got denied?

Does Eywa hate him?  Ao’nung immediately mutters an apology after thinking that way, his mind going in circles as he thought about his options.  Then he remembered, go big or go home.  Of course the answer to his problems has always been inside of him.

And so, Ao’nung prepared all sorts of things that he could give to show you and your family that he’s a good provider.  He foraged in the morning, hunted in the afternoon, twisted the most intricate design he could do on a necklace.  This very process went on and on for days.  He figured that he would rather put his feelings into action than waste his time bumping shoulders with your brothers to convince them to let him see you.  He knew that they would be as stubborn if he didn’t show them what he could do.  

His preparation did not go over five days, eager to please you in a matter of short time.  He wants to prove himself and he will.  After putting his gifts into baskets, he asked Tsireya to come with him in an attempt to distract Lo’ak and avoid disruptions from him.  His sister was aware of the Sully brothers’ antics and pitied her own brother, giving him a nod of agreement and took one of the baskets to carry towards the direction of your home.  He carried in his left arm the biggest catch he could find that day to offer to your family, along with numerous baskets balancing on his right arm.  

It didn’t take long until he reached the opening of your marui, catching the whole family on the floor, preparing dinner.  He carefully placed the baskets on the side of the marui and kneeled before the entrance, making you raise your eyebrow at the sudden gesture.  Your heart soared when you heard him speak, “Yawntu, I ask for permission to extend this gesture as the beginning of our courtship,” his voice growing smaller as he went on, “So, I offer you this necklace as a promise of love and declaration of commitment to you and only you..”  

He pulled out a smaller basket from the satchel he was carrying, presenting you with the most exquisite necklace you have ever seen, precious stones attached to both ends of the fang in the center.  You could feel your face heating up, getting nudged by your mother, with Kiri snorting at the corner as soon as she laid her eyes on your flushed face, and Tuk, she was giggling on your mother’s lap, casting a knowing grin at you.  

“I accept–” 

“No. no. no.”  Jake immediately interjected the proposal, standing up from his position, towering over Ao’nung in a matter of seconds, effectively making Ao’nung feel intimidated, his tail swishing in newfound threat, whilst your father’s was flicking from left to right, the end of his tail dragging on the floor to display his protectiveness over you.  Proving to be your father’s sons, Neteyam and Lo’ak copied him, standing behind their father, hissing at your suitor.

You have prayed to Eywa that she would somehow bless you with everlasting patience, but perhaps she simply does not want to show mercy to your father and older brothers.  

As if Kiri, Tuk and Neytiri were anticipating what was going to happen, they all huddled up together in one corner, deciding to watch things unfold.

“Yes, I accept.”  You said with gritted teeth, walking towards the entrance, your tail in full display as it seemingly found vigor from all the pent up anger that you have been feeling ever since your brothers found out about Ao’nung’s plans to court you.  Your mother’s smile widened in pride as she saw you display protectiveness over the mate you wanted to choose.  You glared at your father, walking in front of Ao’nung to shield him from their gaze.  

“This is my life, and I will find a mate for myself,” you said, “I have been nothing but compliant my whole life, and I will not break that streak by not following my heart!”  

The three tall men feet taller than you gulped, their ears flattened at your dilated pupils and snarl, currently afraid for themselves.  You momentarily turned at Ao’nung, smiling at him sweetly and showed him your neck, gesturing for him to put on the necklace that he had assembled for you, earning angry hisses from your father, making you huff, unfazed by his threats. 

“I will rip your throat into shreds if you so much hurt a single hair on–”  “Ma’Jake.”

“Oh no, dad we are not done yet,” you crossed your arms, making Jake look away in defeat.  Neteyam chuckled at his father’s surrender, making you raise an eyebrow at your brothers, “The two of you have a lot to explain as well.”  “We do?” Neteyam frowned, making him elbow Lo’ak.  “Damn sis, I have a good reason for–”  “No you don’t!  You are in the middle of asking Tsireya to be her mate too!”  

As if on cue, they all sat before you simultaneously, their tails tucked between their legs.  They could only wince at your words, a flurry of apologies thrown at Ao’nung, making you raise your nose up at your brothers and father, threatening them that if they so much treat your suitor badly again, you would find a way to live in a separate marui with Ao’nung.  

And they knew to take your words seriously.  

—

Muntxate - wife

Bravo zulu - military slang for well done

Teylu - beetle larva; delicacy in Omatikaya

[atlabeth]

howling at wolves

pairing: jaime lannister x fem reader

summary: jaime saves you from a wayward knight. a strange friendship forms in the ashes.

a/n: ive lost the plot chat why am i writing jaime lannister fic

wc: 2.7k

warning(s): sexual harassment/assault

“I truly have no idea how you do it,” Sansa says. 

You smile as you finish her final braid. “Many years spent braiding the hair of my peers, my lady. You are a much easier subject than any of them.” 

She smiles. You love when she smiles—makes her look her age, rather than the ‘beyond her years’ that is so often expected of her. “Well, you’re much better than my mother, at least. She’d have tugged half my hair out trying to do anything like you.” 

“I imagine your mother is trying to gather up the rest of your siblings,” you say wryly. “She wants you all on best behavior for the king.” 

“Probably trying to get the boys to stop chasing each other around and straighten themselves out,” Sansa says with a sigh. “Arya, too. She’s always up to something.” 

You chuckle as you put the clasp together on her necklace, then ensure it lays properly before you step away. “I believe that is the final touch. What do you think?” 

“You’re excellent as always,” she says, her smile growing. She reaches up to touch the pendant as she looks at herself in the mirror. “Have you met the king before?” 

“I have, both before and after he took the throne,” you say. “And in my youth, I met King Aerys.”

Sansa turns, her eyes widening in surprise. “You met the Mad King?” 

You nod. “You’re aware of how I came to serve your family, correct?” 

“My grandfather housed you in return for your service,” she recalls. “Weren’t you my age?” 

“Twelve,” you correct. “I met the king at a tourney in Harrenhal, when I was Lady Lyanna’s handmaiden.” Your heart twists at your own mention of her, and you sigh. “Gods rest her soul.” 

Her lips press into a terse line, but she cannot hide the sadness in her eyes. You think all Starks carry an innate weariness in them, whether they know it or not—genetic strain from such untimely deaths. 

“Were you in King’s Landing when my grandfather and uncle were…?” Sansa trails off, but her unsaid words weigh heavily in the air.

“Let us stop talking of such a morose subject, hm?” For her sake, you attempt to switch the topic. “You ought to meet up with the rest of your siblings. Ensure your mother doesn’t go too insane.”

Sansa chuckles at that, and she allows you to put on her extra layer of coats and furs. “I hope all goes well. I know they’re only visiting because of Jon Arryn’s death, but I’ve heard the king’s eldest son is quite handsome.”

“I suppose we shall see,” you say. “Now, run along, my dear. Before your mother starts yelling for you.”

She smiles and nods gratefully, pulling her coat tighter around her as she walks out. You watch her go with a sigh—if King Robert’s son is anything like him, you don’t want Sansa anywhere near him. But it is hardly your decision to make. 

You clean up Sansa’s room and put on your own coat—you have Northern blood in your veins, but your hardiness only goes so far—then take your own leave.

The procession comes through smooth enough.

King Robert Baratheon is older and rounder than you remember, more crude than you think a king should be. He compliments Sansa, and you would be proud if you were not foremost disgusted. 

Queen Cersei Lannister has sharp, inquisitive eyes, and they scan over everything as she gets out of the carriage. You shift under her gaze for the moment it passes over you, however small. 

The queen’s brother, Jaime Lannister, well armored in plated gold, rides in with the last of the knights. He pulls his helmet off and shakes out his blonde hair. 

When he was knighted as the youngest kingsguard, you had just begun to serve the Starks. What a difference being born into a noble house made.

You think the last time you were in their collective presence was that tourney in Harrenhal, when the Targaryen prince disgraced his bride by crowning Lyanna Stark.

Your jaw tenses. When you think of it, that tourney may have been the last moment of normalcy in your life. Nothing was the same after Rickard and Brandon were executed. 

Even less so after you watched your lady die in her brother’s arms.

Everything else passes in a blur. Soon enough you’re back in the castle.

You hardly pay attention as you walk through the halls. With the arrival of King Robert, his family, the kingsguard and so many others, the entirety of the serving staff is working overtime to make things run smoothly. Your primary focus is Sansa, yes, but when she is with her family, you are just another maid. 

As you’ve been working with the Starks for the past decade and a half, you have a decent idea by now of how things should go.

“What are you in such a hurry for?”

Which means you also know by now that this nuisance of a knight seems to have no plans of leaving you alone. He’s been intruding on your peace for the past month, only when you’re alone—likely knows that if Sansa caught word of it, she would get her father involved—and you thought he would have taken the hint by now. 

You make no move to acknowledge the voice, only the clench of your jaw indicating you’ve heard him as you continue on your way. 

“Even a broad like you’s got to know it’s rude to ignore someone,” he calls out. “Whatever you’re doing can’t be that important.”

You stay silent still. Typically, he shouts a few crude things at you, insinuates what he’d like to do, then leaves you alone. Today, though—

A hand encircles your wrist and you whip around on instinct, fire already blazing in your eyes as he leers at you. 

“Are you deaf?” he asks. “Or just insolent?” 

“Let go of me,” you spit. 

“Insolent,” he decides. You try to tug your arm away, but his grip only tightens. “And not very good with questions.” 

An involuntary gasp shudders out of you as he pushes you against the wall, his forearm pressed against your chest to keep you caged in, and you glare daggers at the man.

“I thought the Starks employed better men than this,” you growl. “What do you want?”

“There are those lovely eyes,” he mocks, ignoring your jab. “What about a smile? I bet it’s just as good.”

You try to pull away again, but he catches your wrists and pins them against the wall. The pressure off your chest is a relief quickly dashed by the look in his eyes. Your resistance is a joke to him, just simply part of the chase. 

“I’m sure I can get one out of you soon,” the knight amends. 

He kisses you. It’s nothing romantic, just a purely possessive clash of teeth as he tries to claim something he has no right to take. You fight against him all the while but it does you no good—it’s like the past month hasn’t been enough for him, like he has to make up for all the ways you’ve disrespected him. 

“Now just what is going on here?”

He pulls away from you at the sound of the voice and you’ve never wanted to melt into yourself more. Your face burns—you’re angry at this wretch of a knight and you’re embarrassed that someone else witnessed your shame. 

“Nothing you need to be concerned with,” the knight says. “This is Stark business—no concern for you Lannisters.” 

Lannister? 

You look over at your—gods hope it—savior, and your eyes widen despite yourself. 

Jaime Lannister, brother of the queen and member of the kingsguard and the Kingslayer himself, stands with his hand just above his sheathed sword and the slight smile that seems to be a permanent facet of his appearance. 

“Really?” His eyebrows rise. “Because to me, it looks like you’re in the midst of assaulting this poor woman.”

“What do you care?” the knight snarls. “She’s just a maid—you can find a dozen anywhere you look.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to defile this one against her will,” Jaime says. 

“Who says it’s against her will?” He glances back at you, his wandering eyes making your skin crawl. “Look at her. She’s practically begging for it.”

“I would bash your skull in if I could,” you spit. 

He laughs as he turns to Jaime. “See? She’s feisty—she enjoys having someone to tussle with.” 

“I’ve never bashed a skull in before,” Jaime says thoughtfully, “but I’d imagine it would be quite grisly.” He smiles disarmingly at the knight. “Would you like to be my first, Ser…?”

The man’s grin twists into a scowl. “You’re really protecting this whore?”

“If it’s a whore you want, go peruse a brothel.” Jaime’s smile remains, though it’s lost its mirth. “You can find a dozen anywhere you look.”

Jaime and the knight stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, before he eventually steps away from you with a sharp laugh. You can’t disguise the relief that floods through your body at the distance. 

He shakes his head as he begins to walk off. “You choose the funniest fights, Kingslayer.”

You watch him go, still pressed up against the wall until he’s fully out of sight. You let out a shaky breath as you lean your head back.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “I thought he would get to…”

“No need to linger on what could’ve happened,” Jaime says. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. “You stopped him before the worst. I’ll have some bruises, but better that than anything more permanent.”

“Were we in King’s Landing, he could’ve gotten a more appropriate punishment,” he says. “But I don’t think your Lord Stark would appreciate me mutilating his men before we’ve even made it through the night.” Jaime smiles. “A knight without hands would be nothing but sword fodder.”

“I pity the poor girl who gets stuck with him if he ends up at a brothel,” you murmur.

“She knows what she’s in for,” he says. 

“That doesn’t make it better.”

Jaime stays silent at that, and you look over at him. 

“What are you even doing here?” you can’t help but ask. “Surely you have more important duties than strolling through our halls.” 

“I just had to find my brother in a brothel,” he says. “I thought some peace and quiet would do me good before whatever mess awaits me when my family is together.” 

“Why did you save me?” Another question you can’t keep inside. “You’re a Kingsguard—a Lannister at that. I serve the Starks, and I am no king.”

“I like to believe I am a decent man beneath it all,” he says. “I would not be much of one had I let that brute have his way with you, Stark or not.”

A chill runs down your spine at his words. Having it spoken aloud by another makes it all disgustingly real. You still feel the heat of his hands on your body, and your lips all but fester from his forced kisses. 

“I am surprised you care,” you murmur. “Most men would have turned a blind eye.” 

“Most men care little for things that do not concern them.” 

“And this concerns you?” 

He shrugs. “Would you rather I let him continue?” 

“No,” you say immediately. “I… I owe you my thanks, my lord. Immensely.” 

He huffs a laugh at that. “My lord. I cannot recall the last time someone called me that.” 

In your silence, he chuckles. “Ser Jaime is more than enough. I’m certainly not your lord.” 

You bow your head. “Then I thank you, Ser Jaime.” 

“And I wholly accept.” He pauses, then focuses back on you. “I never got your name.”

“I never gave it,” you say. 

Jaime gives you a cockeyed grin. “I would like to have it, then. If you’d allow.”

“Why?”

“It isn’t every day you save a fair maiden,” he says. “I’d like to know who gave me the pleasure.”

“You are a knight,” you say. “Is it not your duty to save damsels in distress?”

“Among other things.” Jaime inclines his head. “Though it tends to be more kings in distress, and believe me, my lady—those I have served could not be considered fair nor a damsel.”

“I imagine not,” you say placidly. “You are the Kingslayer, after all.”

He winces. “And our conversation was going so well.”

You arch a brow. “It is the truth, is it not?”

“Just because it is the truth does not mean it must be brought up in every conversation I have,” he says. 

“...You are right,” you admit. “You saved me from a fate none too kind. I should not bring up the past in return.” 

Jaime blinks. For a moment, he seems to have nothing to say.

You cannot help the slightly wry smile that curves on your lips. “Surprised, Ser Jaime?” 

He recovers quickly, that own sly smile back as if it never disappeared. “Never. It’s just that those at court typically do not lay off so easily.” 

“I am not technically a part of court,” you say. “Perhaps that is it.” 

“Perhaps,” he agrees. “You should consider yourself lucky you’ve managed to keep any courtly claws out of your skin. I’d wager it would make you far less pleasant.” 

“How, pray tell, do you know I am pleasant?” you ask. “You just arrived in Winterfell.”

“You didn’t kill that man for what he did to you,” he says.

“Had I the ability, I would have,” you say. “Chop off those wandering hands, gouge out his lecherous eyes—”

“Perhaps you are not pleasant,” he interrupts, and your lips twitch despite yourself. “But you are interesting, and that is much better.”

“I’m a servant of House Stark,” you say. “There is nothing beyond that.” 

Jaime shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I’ve actually noticed you, for one.” 

“Then I’m a rather shoddy servant. We’re not meant to be noticed.” 

“It was rather hard to miss you.” 

A chill runs across your skin as you glance down the hallway—you can still feel it all. 

“Men do not like to lose out on their conquests,” you say quietly. “He may be back with a vengeance.”

“Then I suppose I’ll just have to keep an eye out while we’re here,” Jaime says. 

You turn back to him with a frown. “Why?”

“To stop his quest of vengeance,” he says. “It would be rather useless of me to save you once and then abandon you to the wolves.”

“I’ve always found comfort in wolves,” you say. “The Starks saved me long ago.”

“And today, a lion saved you,” Jaime says. 

“And I thanked you for it.” You cross your arms. “Need I repeat myself again?”

He shrugs. “It certainly doesn’t hurt.”

You huff at that, only just managing to bite back the slightest of smiles. “I see your ego is as big as your blade.”

“As is the Lannister way.” Jaime glances past you out the window, and he offers a charming smile. “I’m afraid I must take my leave, my lady. Duty calls.”

“As does mine.” You blow out a loose breath and shake your head. “This whole debacle has thrown my entire day out of order. The other maids must be wondering where I am, and Vayon will have my head if I am any more late.”

“I’ll be sure to keep an eye out during our stay,” he says. “Prevent any other unseemly escapades.”

“I’m not sure I want more of your attention,” you say. “You Lannisters bring nothing but trouble.” 

“I just saved you a bit of trouble,” he corrects. “But if you’d like some to make up for it, I am more than happy to supply.”  

“What happened to ‘duty calls’?” you ask wryly. 

“What happened to your steward having your head?” Jaime responds in turn. 

Again, your lips twitch despite yourself. “Goodbye, Ser Jaime.”

As he watches you go, a softer smile of his own forms.

It’s only when you disappear around the corner that he realizes he never got your name.