#but i'm struggling with writing this dragon smut

[deunmiu-dessie]

struggling sooo bad with writing this dragon smut! like that's the only thing i'm stuck on--- do i morph it? do ya'll want it to stay its true size. ya'll his peen is gonna tear the reader apart, do i make one peen smaller than the other so it fits? or do i just make him smaller? you guys i have 9k words of pure plot, and i'm almost done--- HOW DOES HE FUCK THE READER THO?!

[satansdarlin]

Blue stained glass

While I work on the fourth chapter of a full deck of cards I also decided to write for another one of my boys! Welcoming Kurt Wagner to the stage! Apologies for any bad German, I'm still learning it and often forget that it is a gendered language so please forgive me.

MDNI

Rating: E

Word count: 8.3k

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x shy!artist!fem!reader

Warnings: reader being kinda stalkerish but not with bad intentions, implied that some of the students have harmless crushes on Kurt, Kurt being a flirt, smut! Because I missed writing it, Oral (fem receiving), PiV, mentions of Kurt's faith, you wife that man up!, pregnancy. Not beta read!

If you liked this check of my masterlist or put in a request if they are open

Golden light trickled in through the curtains as the sun set behind the school. The smell of dragon's blood incense wafted around the room in delicate wisps of smoke. The only sounds were the slight breeze outside and the dragging of bristles across canvas. You sat on the wooden stool, a slight hunch in your back you'd need to correct later with stretches. Your gaze followed along as you drew blue across the canvas. Blue had become a vital part of all your recent works, and you knew exactly why. Whenever you thought of art, flashes of blue fur, a spaded tail, the smell of sulfur, a silver cross, and a mischievous laugh filled your mind. You wouldn't call it obsession or infatuation. He was your muse. Not that he knew. How could you tell your teammate that he gave you such powerful inspiration? So the portfolio filled to the brim with artworks of just him remained hidden away under your bed.

Kurt Wagner. Everyone loved him. He was a friend worth keeping, made everything fun, always had the best ideas to keep the students entertained, and loved to chatter. Even Logan enjoyed his company from time to time. Kurt just had a way with people, with mutants. A few months back, you had a solo mission with him. It was awkward at first—the shy, quiet artist of the school and the impish chatterbox didn't know how to approach one another. In the end, the mission had concluded in giggles and soft-spoken words. Kurt was wonderful. That's why you couldn't understand why he kept insisting on spending time with you of all people. You were reserved, shy, introverted—the exact opposite of Kurt.

You had put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on your door before starting, hoping it would deter visitors. It did. Well, anyone who saw the sign didn't bother you; the same could not be said for the blue fuzzy imp. He didn't see it, to be fair. He had just gotten home from taking some students to the mall for shopping and wanted to show you the paints he had found, so he teleported. The smell of sulfur and the familiar BAMF sound filled your room, making your eyes widen comedically as you stared at the canvas. A painting of Kurt praying in a church with blue stained glass—one he was most certainly not supposed to see.

"Mein Freund, you would not believe the gift I have found for you— ah," his pleasant accent-tinted voice stalled as he gazed at your shape and then the painting before you. His eyes widened and filled with glee. "Oh mein Gott! Is that me? It's... it's—" he struggled to find the English word for a moment before settling on, "herrlich."

You stammered shyly as he walked up behind you, gazing at the painting with a smile that made your insides flutter like a thousand baby butterflies had hatched. "I... erm... yes, it's you, but it's not finished," you spoke hesitantly.

"Not finished?" Kurt moved closer, his tail swaying gently behind him in that way it did when he was truly excited about something. "But it's already so beautiful! The way you captured the light through the windows..." He leaned in, careful not to disturb your workspace, but close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. "I had no idea you were watching me pray."

Your cheeks burned hot. "I... I wasn't. Not really. I just... sometimes I sketch you when you're around the mansion, and I remembered how peaceful you looked that one time I passed by the chapel..." You trailed off, realizing you might be revealing too much.

Kurt's expression softened, and a knowing look crossed his features. "Then perhaps..." he said, reaching down to carefully take the brush from your trembling fingers, "you wouldn't mind showing me the other drawings?" His golden eyes flickered toward your bed, where your portfolio lay hidden.

Your heart nearly stopped. "You knew?"

A gentle laugh escaped him, musical and warm. "Mein Schatz, I may be a fool sometimes, but I'm not blind. I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching." He paused, his tail curling slightly in what you had learned was nervousness. "The same way I look at you when you're lost in your art."

The confession hung in the air between you, as tangible as the wisps of incense smoke still dancing through the golden evening light. You sat frozen, brush dripping blue paint onto the dropcloth below, as Kurt Wagner—your muse, your teammate, your secret inspiration—waited for your response with bated breath.

"You... look at me?" You whispered in shock and a tinge of disbelief. He looked at you like you looked at him? That sounded impossible, yet the way his tail curled in nervousness and his foot tapped against the ground told a different story.

Kurt's hand came up to rub the back of his neck, a gesture you'd seen countless times when he was trying to find the right words. "Ja, I do. More than I probably should." His voice was softer now, almost vulnerable. "When you're in the garden sketching, or during the art class with the students when you create those beautiful displays... The way your face lights up when you finally perfect a piece you've been working on..." He trailed off, a deeper blue tinting his cheeks.

Your heart thundered in your chest as he took a small step closer, his tail now swaying in a gentle, hypnotic pattern. "I've wanted to tell you for so long, but..." He gestured to himself with a self-deprecating smile. "Well, I wasn't sure someone who creates such beauty would want..."

"Kurt," you interrupted, finding courage you didn't know you had. Standing from your stool, you reached for his hand, feeling the unique texture of his fur against your palm. "You are beauty. Why do you think I can't stop painting you?"

His golden eyes widened, and that brilliant smile you'd captured in countless sketches spread across his face. "Then perhaps," he said, bringing your joined hands up between you, "we've both been a bit foolish, ja?"

A small laugh escaped you, breaking the tension. "More than a bit." Your eyes drifted to the painting on the easel, then back to him. "Would you... would you like to see the others? The real ones, not just the ones I do for art class?"

Kurt's tail perked up, and he squeezed your hand gently. "I would love nothing more, mein Schatz. But first..." He reached into his jacket pocket with his free hand and pulled out a small paper bag. "I really did bring you something from the art store."

Inside was a set of iridescent blue paints that shifted colors in the dying sunlight, almost the exact shade of Kurt's fur when he moved. Your breath caught at the thoughtfulness of the gift, and when you looked up at him, his expression was so tender it made your heart ache.

"I saw them and thought of you," he admitted quietly. "Though I suppose I'm always thinking of you these days."

The confession hung in the air like a prayer, and you found yourself moving closer, drawn into his orbit like you'd always been, only now there was no need to hide it. The golden light that had started this evening's painting session now painted Kurt in warm hues, making him look almost ethereal—your own personal angel, right here in your art-cluttered room.

"Kurt," you whispered, not quite sure what you wanted to say, but knowing you needed to say something. The way he looked at you now, like you were one of his precious religious paintings come to life, made you understand why he'd always insisted on spending time with you. He'd been drawn to you just as you'd been to him, both of you dancing around each other in an elaborate routine of stolen glances and hidden feelings.

His tail curled gently around your wrist, as if he couldn't bear to not touch you in some way, and you realized that maybe this was what inspiration truly felt like—not just the desire to capture beauty, but to be part of it. With trembling hands, you knelt beside your bed, aware of Kurt's presence behind you as you reached underneath to pull out the large black portfolio case. Your heart hammered against your ribs—no one had ever seen these pieces before. They were raw, honest, intimate in a way your public artwork never was.

"I, um," you started, clutching the portfolio to your chest as you stood, "some of these are just quick sketches, and others aren't very good—"

"Liebling," Kurt interrupted gently, his tail swaying with barely contained excitement, "everything you create is wunderbar. May I?" He gestured to your bed, and you nodded, watching as he settled cross-legged on the corner, patting the space beside him.

You sat down carefully, the portfolio balanced on your lap. Kurt's warmth beside you was both comforting and nerve-wracking. Taking a deep breath, you unzipped the case and pulled out the first few pieces.

"Oh!" Kurt's delighted gasp made you jump slightly. His tail curled in pleasure as he leaned forward to study a charcoal drawing of himself perched on the mansion's balcony railing, looking out over the grounds. "I remember this day. It was right after that terrible thunderstorm, ja? When the sun finally came out?"

You nodded, surprised he'd remembered such a small moment. "The light was hitting your fur just right, and I couldn't help but..." you trailed off, embarrassed at admitting how much you'd observed him.

But Kurt was already reaching for the next piece, his golden eyes bright with wonder. "And this one!" It was a series of quick gesture sketches of him during a training session, his body in various poses of acrobatic grace. "You've captured the movement so perfectly. I had no idea you were watching so closely."

Your cheeks burned. "I hope that doesn't sound creepy."

His laugh was warm and genuine. "Nein, not at all. Though it does explain why you always volunteered to help supervise training." His tail brushed against your back playfully, making you squeak in surprise.

As you went through more pieces, your initial nervousness began to fade, replaced by a warm glow at Kurt's genuine enthusiasm for each drawing. He had a comment for every piece—remembering the moments you'd captured, praising your technique, asking questions about your process. His tail never stopped moving, expressing his excitement in a way his controlled expressions couldn't quite hide.

"This one," he breathed, carefully lifting a watercolor painting, "this is..." It was one of your favorites—Kurt in the library late at night, reading by lamplight, his tail curled around a cup of tea. You'd painted it from memory after watching him there one evening, trying to capture the peaceful contentment he radiated in those quiet moments.

"The way you see me," he said softly, tracing the air above the painting as if afraid to touch it, "it's so..."

"Real," you finished quietly. "That's just... how you look to me."

Kurt turned to face you then, and the expression on his face made your breath catch. "All this time," he murmured, "I thought I was alone in feeling this way. In seeing such beauty in someone else."

You ducked your head, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, but his tail gently curved under your chin, lifting it back up. "No hiding," he said softly. "Not anymore, ja?"

The portfolio slid forgotten to the floor as Kurt's hand came up to cup your cheek, his touch feather-light, as if he still couldn't quite believe he was allowed this. In the fading golden light of your room, surrounded by scattered artwork that told the story of your hidden feelings, Kurt Wagner looked at you like you were the masterpiece—not the artist. Time seemed to slow as Kurt's hand remained gentle against your cheek, his thumb brushing softly across your skin. Your heart was doing acrobatics that could rival his best performances, and you wondered if he could feel how warm your face had become.

"Mein Schatz," he whispered, leaning closer, "may I...?"

You could only manage a tiny nod, and then his lips were on yours, soft and sweet. The kiss was gentle, almost reverent, and you could feel his smile against your mouth. His tail curled around your waist, drawing you closer as your hands tentatively came up to rest against his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt and the steady beating of his heart beneath.

When you finally parted, you immediately buried your burning face in his shoulder, earning a warm chuckle that rumbled through his chest. "Hiding again so soon?" he teased, his accent thicker with emotion.

"Mmph," was all you could manage, which only made him laugh more.

"And here I thought artists were supposed to appreciate beautiful moments," he continued playfully, his tail squeezing your waist. "Perhaps I should pose for another painting? 'The First Kiss' would make a lovely addition to your collection, ja?"

You groaned and swatted his chest weakly. "Kurt!"

"Or maybe a series?" He was clearly enjoying himself now, his voice full of mischief. "We could call it 'The Evolution of Romance' or 'Love in Blue'—"

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your face still flaming. "You're terrible."

His grin was radiant. "Terrible, but yours?" The hope in his voice made your heart flutter.

"Yeah," you whispered, managing a shy smile. "Mine."

"Wunderbar!" He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. "Though I must ask—do you have any paintings of our future together hidden away as well? Should I be prepared for more surprises?"

"Kurt Wagner!" You tried to sound scandalized, but you couldn't help laughing, especially when he waggled his eyebrows at you.

"What? It's a reasonable question! After all, you've been secretly documenting me for months. For all I know, you've already planned our wedding colors—blue and more blue, I assume?"

You grabbed a nearby pillow and tried to smack him with it, but he teleported across the room with a BAMF, leaving a cloud of sulfur and the echo of his laughter. He reappeared perched on your easel, careful not to disturb your painting, his tail swishing playfully.

"You know," he said, his golden eyes twinkling, "I think I prefer being your muse when I know about it. The poses can be much more interesting this way."

"Oh my god," you mumbled, falling back onto your bed and covering your face with your hands. But you couldn't hide your smile, especially when you felt the familiar displacement of air and suddenly had a warm, fuzzy mutant curled around you, pressing gentle kisses to your temple.

"Don't worry, Liebling," he murmured against your skin, his tail finding your hand and twining with your fingers. "I promise to be the best muse you could ask for. Though..." He paused dramatically, "I do have one condition."

You peeked through your fingers at him. "What's that?"

His smile softened into something so tender it made your chest ache. "That next time you paint me praying in the chapel, you'll be there with me. Some masterpieces are better created together, don't you think?"

This time, when you pulled him down for another kiss, you didn't hide your face afterward. After all, how could you when he was looking at you like that—like you were both the artist and the masterpiece, the muse and the creator, the beginning and end of something beautiful?

Though you did blush furiously when he later insisted on signing all your portraits of him with "Kurt Wagner, Professional Muse and Master of Stealing Artists' Hearts.”

.

.

.

The chatter of students filled the air and the sweet smell of honeysuckle surrounded you and your students. Truth be told, you hadn't even offered to do this job; teaching the art class wasn't something that had ever been on your mind, but Charles had asked you to do so, saying it would be good for the students to have an outlet for their emotions. Though teaching a bunch of mutant teenagers wasn't particularly easy, especially when half of them wanted to be in the danger room training to be X-Men—you probably got more questions about that than actual art.

"Your piece should be about expression. There is no right or wrong, only your feelings about your art," you spoke gently as you walked by the students settled in the grass of the gardens behind the school. A hand rose up and you looked over and nodded at the boy, Damian you believed his name was.

"Excuse me, but how exactly is painting helping us prepare for anything?" You sighed at the boy's question as he got some chastising nudges from some of your more kind students. You got that question about every class.

Before you could answer, a familiar BAMF sound and the scent of sulfur announced Kurt's arrival. He appeared perched on the garden wall, his tail swaying as he grinned at the class. Several students brightened immediately—Kurt had always been a favorite among them.

"Ah, but that is where you are wrong, mein junger Freund," Kurt said, gracefully flipping down to land beside you. His shoulder brushed yours in a subtle show of support that made your heart flutter, even after months of being together. "Art teaches us more than you might think. Strategy, patience, observation..." He winked at you before continuing, "How do you think I learned to move so efficiently in battle? By understanding space, movement, and perception—all things your talented teacher here helped me improve."

A few students giggled, well aware of your relationship with the blue mutant. It had become something of a school legend how you'd been caught with a portfolio full of Kurt drawings. Some of the older students even insisted they'd known all along, claiming they'd seen the way you both looked at each other during training sessions.

"Besides," Kurt continued, picking up one of the spare brushes from your supply kit and twirling it like one of his swords, "did you know that Leonardo da Vinci used his artistic skills to design defense systems? Or that camouflage patterns were created by artists? Even the maps we use for missions were drawn by artists."

Damian sat up straighter, suddenly looking more interested. "Really?"

You smiled, grateful for Kurt's intervention. "Really. And speaking of missions..." You shared a knowing look with Kurt before addressing the class. "Who wants to hear about the time my sketching skills helped us locate a hidden Sentinel facility?"

"Oh, tell them about the warehouse in Berlin!" Kurt added enthusiastically, his tail curling around your waist as he settled beside you. "When you noticed the architectural inconsistencies in my reconnaissance sketches?"

The students were all paying attention now, art supplies temporarily forgotten as they leaned in to hear the story. Even Damian had put down his phone, his previous skepticism replaced with curiosity.

"Well," you began, feeling Kurt's tail squeeze encouragingly, "it started when we noticed some unusual energy signatures in an old industrial district..."

As you recounted the mission, Kurt occasionally chimed in with his own colorful commentary, making the students laugh with his dramatic reenactments. You couldn't help but smile, watching him demonstrate his acrobatic moves while describing how your artistic knowledge had helped spot the hidden entrance.

"And that," Kurt concluded, landing gracefully beside you again, "is why we should never underestimate the power of art. Or artists." He pressed a quick kiss to your temple, making several students coo and others playfully groan at the display of affection.

"Mr. Wagner," one of the girls called out, a mischievous glint in her eye, "are you going to model for our class like you do for the teacher?"

Your face immediately heated up as Kurt laughed delightedly. "Sadly, I'm needed in the danger room. Though..." He grinned at you, that familiar impish look in his golden eyes, "I do have a private session scheduled later."

"Kurt!" you hissed, mortified as the students erupted in giggles.

He merely winked, pressed another quick kiss to your cheek, and teleported away with a theatrical bow, leaving you to face your amused students with burning cheeks.

"Now then," you said, trying to regain some semblance of professional dignity despite your flushed face, "back to your projects. And no, Jenny, you cannot paint Mr. Wagner for your assignment—pick a different subject."

The disappointment on several faces told you that more than one student had been planning exactly that. You couldn't really blame them though. After all, you had an entire portfolio that proved just how inspiring a subject Kurt Wagner could be. After the lingering giggles from Kurt's dramatic exit finally subsided, you circled back through your students, the grass crunching softly beneath your feet. The afternoon sun warmed your shoulders as you paused to observe their work, offering gentle guidance where needed.

"Sarah," you said, stopping beside a girl whose hands were literally glowing as she painted, her mutation allowing her to create luminescent colors, "that's beautiful. The way you're using your powers to add depth to the sunset—very creative." Her beaming smile made your heart warm; it was moments like these that reminded you why Charles had been right about teaching.

Moving on, you found Marcus struggling with his brushstrokes, his extra set of arms getting in the way of each other. "Try coordinating them like we practiced," you suggested softly. "Remember, each hand can work on a different section. Think of it like... like when Kurt coordinates his tail with his movements during training."

The mention of Kurt made a few nearby students glance up with knowing smirks, but you ignored them, focusing on how Marcus's face lit up with understanding. Within minutes, all four of his hands were working in harmony, creating an intricate pattern that would have taken others four times as long to complete.

"Teacher?" A quiet voice drew your attention to Amy, a shy freshman whose scales tended to change color with her emotions—currently a nervous purple. "I... I don't know if this is good enough." She gestured to her canvas where she'd painted a self-portrait, her scales rendered in beautiful iridescent shades.

You knelt beside her, careful not to disturb her workspace. "What makes you think it's not good enough?"

"It's just..." she glanced around at her classmates' work, her scales shifting to a deeper purple. "Everyone else is painting normal things. Beautiful things. I painted... me."

"Amy," you said gently, thinking of all the times you'd doubted your own artwork, of all the paintings of Kurt you'd hidden away because you thought they were too revealing, too personal. "Do you remember what Kurt said in his last ethics class about beauty?"

Her scales flickered with hints of pink—she had a bit of a crush on Kurt, like half the school. "That it comes in all forms?"

"Exactly. And look—" you pointed to how the light caught her painting's scales, creating rainbow patterns across the canvas. "You've captured something uniquely beautiful. Something only you could create, because only you know exactly how those scales feel, how they shift and change. That's not just good art, that's powerful art."

The purple of her scales gradually shifted to a warm golden hue as she smiled, looking at her painting with new eyes. Around you, other students had paused to listen, and you saw several of them return to their work with renewed purpose.

"Damian," you called out, noticing he'd actually started painting instead of just complaining, "excellent use of perspective on that building. Been practicing your architectural sketches?"

He tried to look nonchalant, but you caught his pleased grin. "Yeah, well... after what you said about the Berlin mission... I figured it might be useful. You know, for future X-Men stuff."

"Hey, teacher?" Jenny piped up, paint smudged adorably across her cheek. "Since we can't paint Mr. Wagner, could you tell us more about how art helped on missions while we work? Please?"

A chorus of agreements rose from the class, and you couldn't help but smile. "Alright, but keep painting. There was this one time in Moscow when my knowledge of color theory helped us identify a shapeshifter..."

As you shared the story, moving between easels and offering guidance, you noticed how the students' work seemed to come alive. Even the most reluctant artists were engaged now, their creativity flowing as they listened to tales of how art and heroism could intertwine.

The smell of honeysuckle grew stronger as the afternoon wore on, mixing with paint and teenage enthusiasm. A flash of blue in your peripheral vision caught your attention—Kurt, watching proudly from a nearby window between his training sessions. He blew you a kiss before disappearing again, leaving you with paint-stained fingers and a garden full of budding artists who were finally beginning to understand that there was more than one way to be extraordinary.

"Teacher?" Amy called out, her scales now a confident shade of blue that reminded you of someone special. "I think I'd like to do another self-portrait. Maybe... maybe one of me in an X-Men uniform this time?"

You smiled, thinking of your own portfolio of Kurt, of how art had led you to love, and how that love had led you here, helping these young mutants find their own way to express their unique beauty. "I think that's a wonderful idea, Amy. Just remember—"

"We know, we know," the class chorused together, matching your grin, "there is no right or wrong, only our feelings about our art!”

.

.

.

Evening had settled over the mansion, the last rays of sunlight painting your studio in familiar golden hues. The day's classes were done, art supplies cleaned and stored away, and you'd finally managed to stop blushing from Kurt's teasing comments during your lesson. You were just setting up your easel when the familiar BAMF announced his arrival.

"Ah, mein Schatz," Kurt's voice was warm as he appeared behind you, arms wrapping around your waist and tail curling affectionately around your ankle. "Ready for our 'private session'?" You could hear the playful smirk in his voice.

"You," you turned in his arms to poke his chest accusingly, "are terrible. Do you know how many knowing looks I got from the students after you left?"

He laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I couldn't help myself. You're adorable when you blush. Speaking of which..." His tail reached over to your desk, picking up your sketchbook and flipping it open to reveal today's quick sketches of him during his brief visit to your class. "Someone was inspired during their teaching duties, ja?"

"Kurt!" You tried to snatch the sketchbook, but he teleported across the room, perching on the window seat as he continued flipping through pages.

"Oh, this one is new!" He held up a sketch of himself demonstrating acrobatic moves to your students. "You captured my best side."

"All your sides are your best side," you mumbled before you could stop yourself, then immediately covered your face with your hands as he teleported back to you, gathering you close.

"Is that so?" he murmured against your ear. "Then perhaps we should make sure you have proper reference material for all of them?" His tail gently pulled your hands away from your face, forcing you to meet his tender gaze. "Now then, how would you like me to pose, Liebling?"

You gestured weakly to the arrangement you'd set up—a comfortable chair positioned near the window, where the last of the sunset would cast those perfect shadows you loved to capture. "Just... sitting would be nice. Natural. Like when you're reading in the library."

Kurt's expression softened as he settled into the chair, understanding your desire to capture one of your favorite quiet moments. He pulled out a small book of poetry—Rilke, you noticed—and arranged himself comfortably, his tail draped over the armrest.

"Like this?" he asked, and you nodded, already reaching for your charcoal. This was familiar territory now, though no less special than those first secret sketches. If anything, it was more intimate—knowing he was here specifically for you, watching you create, sharing these peaceful moments together.

As you began to sketch, Kurt started reading aloud softly in German, his accent wrapping around the words like silk. You'd grown to love these evenings, the gentle cadence of his voice mixing with the scratch of charcoal on paper, the way his tail would occasionally twitch in response to a particular phrase or stanza.

"You know," he said during a pause between poems, his golden eyes meeting yours over the top of his book, "I used to wonder why you chose me as your subject so often. Now I think I understand."

You paused in your sketching, curious. "Oh?"

"Ja. It's the same reason I can't stop watching you when you create." He marked his place in the book and leaned forward slightly. "There's something magical about seeing someone doing what they love, being exactly who they are meant to be. You see me that way when I move, when I pray, when I simply exist. And I see you that way when you're lost in your art."

The charcoal trembled slightly in your fingers as he continued, "It's like seeing someone's soul, isn't it? Their truest self?"

You nodded, unable to find words for how perfectly he'd captured it. Kurt rose from the chair in one fluid movement, crossing to where you stood. His hand covered yours on the charcoal, bringing it to rest against the easel.

"Perhaps," he whispered, turning you to face him, his tail wrapping around your waist, "we could find other ways to capture this moment?"

Your breath caught as he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that tasted of poetry and promises. The charcoal slipped forgotten from your fingers as you wound your arms around his neck, letting yourself get lost in the overwhelming rightness of being held by him.

When you finally parted, Kurt rested his forehead against yours, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Though I do hope you'll finish the sketch later. I have a reputation as Professional Muse to maintain, after all."

You laughed, the sound mixing with his own quiet chuckle in the golden evening light of your studio, where art and love had become beautifully, perfectly intertwined.

"So how do you wish to capture this moment, hm?" You hummed up at him with a new sense of courage.

Kurt's yellow eyes sparkle with mischief and desire as he gazes down at you, his tail gently squeezing your waist. The sunset light casts a warm glow on your skin, highlighting the delicate curve of your neck and the soft fullness of your lips. He leans in, his breath ghosting over your skin as he speaks.

"There are so many ways, mein Schatz..." he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "We could start with a kiss..."

And he does, capturing your lips in a deep, lingering kiss that steals the breath from your lungs. His lips are surprisingly soft against yours, moving with a passion and tenderness that sets your heart racing. One hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, while the other slides down your back, pressing you closer to him.

When he finally pulls away, you're both breathing heavily, your cheeks flushed and your eyes dark with desire. Kurt's tail tightens around you, keeping you anchored against him as he trails his lips along your jaw, nipping lightly at your earlobe.

"Or perhaps," he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine, "you'd like to capture the way my hands feel on your skin?"

Without waiting for an answer, he begins to unbutton your shirt, his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he reveals more and more of your body to his hungry gaze. Each touch sends sparks of electricity through you, igniting a fire that only seems to grow with each passing second.

As your shirt falls to the floor, Kurt takes a step back, his eyes roving hungrily over your newly exposed skin. His gaze is almost reverent, as if he's drinking in every inch of you like a man dying of thirst.

"Beautiful," he breathes, his voice filled with awe and desire. "You're absolutely perfect, Meine Liebe."

His hands come up to cup your breasts, thick fingers brushing over your hardening nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as he begins to circle and tease, building the pleasure slowly but surely. Kurt's hands continue their sensual exploration of your body, tracing every curve and dip with a reverence that makes your skin tingle. He leans down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, his tongue darting out to taste the salt of your skin.

"I want to worship every inch of you," he murmurs against your throat, his voice rough with desire. "To show you how much you mean to me."

His fingers find the clasp of your bra, deftly unhooking it and sliding the straps down your shoulders. The garment falls away, baring your breasts to his eager gaze. Kurt pauses for a moment, simply drinking in the sight of you, before cupping the weight of your breasts in his palms.

"Perfektion," he breathes, thumbing your nipples until they pebble beneath his touch. He lowers his head, taking one nipple into his mouth and suckling gently, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

You gasp at the sensation, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair, holding him close. Kurt continues his ministrations, alternating between your breasts, licking and sucking and nipping until you're writhing against him, desperate for more.

His hands drift lower, skimming over your stomach and hips before dipping beneath the waistband of your pants. He strokes you through the damp fabric of your underwear, his touch light and teasing.

"So wet already," he marvels, his voice thick with arousal. "You're so responsive, mein Schatz. So perfect."

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your pants and underwear, tugging them down your legs in one smooth motion. You kick them off impatiently, standing before him in nothing but your socks and shoes.

Kurt takes a step back, his eyes raking over your naked form with undisguised hunger. He licks his lips, his tail swishing behind him in anticipation.

"Lie down on the couch," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I want to taste you." You obey without hesitation, settling into the plush cushions immediately.

 Kurt follows you to the couch, his eyes never leaving your body as he crawls over you, settling between your spread thighs. He runs his hands up your legs, his touch light and teasing, until he reaches the apex of your thighs.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, spreading your folds with his fingers and exposing your glistening flesh to his hungry gaze. "I can't wait to taste you."

He leans down, dragging his tongue along your slit in one long, slow lick. The sensation is electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body. You gasp, your hips lifting off the couch as you seek more of his touch.

Kurt chuckles, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. He looks up at you through his lashes, his yellow eyes gleaming with mischief and desire.

"Patience, mein Schatz," he teases, blowing a cool stream of air over your wet heat. "We have all the time in the world."

And then he's diving back in, his tongue delving deep into your core, lapping at your essence like a man starved. He circles your clit with the tip of his tongue, flicking over the sensitive bud again and again until you're writhing beneath him, desperate for release.

His hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as he feasts on your flesh, his groans of pleasure muffled against your skin. The room fills with the obscene sounds of his licking and sucking, punctuated by your own breathy moans and gasps.

Kurt brings a hand up to your clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen nub as he continues to tongue-fuck your dripping cunt. The dual stimulation is too much, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with each passing second.

"That's it, Kleine," he encourages, his voice rough with arousal. "Let go. Come for me."

His words are all it takes to send you hurtling over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. You cry out, your hands fisting in Kurt's hair as waves of pleasure crash over you, threatening to drown you in their intensity.

Kurt works you through it, his tongue and fingers never faltering as he prolongs your climax, drawing out every last shudder and gasp until you're boneless and spent, collapsing back against the couch in a sweaty, satisfied heap.

He presses one last kiss to your sensitive flesh before crawling up your body, settling his weight on top of you. His erection presses insistently against your thigh as he wiggles off his pants, hot and hard and ready for you.*

"I need you, meine Engel," he breathes, his voice thick with desire. "I need to be inside you."

He reaches down between your bodies, grasping his cock and lining it up with your entrance. You can feel the heat of him, the pulsing need that throbs against your slick folds.

With one swift thrust, he's inside you, filling you completely. You cry out at the sudden stretch, your walls clenching around him like a vice.

"Fuck, you're tight," Kurt groans, his hips rocking against yours as he begins to move. "So perfect. So gut."

He sets a steady rhythm, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, his cock hitting depths you didn't even know you had. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, igniting a fire in your core that threatens to consume you whole. Your heart flutters hearing him slur out German and English in a pleasure drunken haze. Kurt's tail wraps around your legs, holding them open wide as he pistons into you, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your shared moans and gasps.

"So good," he pants, his face buried in your neck as he laves his tongue over your pulse point. "So perfekt. So mine."

His words send a shiver down your spine, igniting a possessive heat in your core. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into your body with each thrust.

"Yours," you gasp, your nails digging into the fur of his back. "All yours, kurt"

Kurt growls, low and deep, his tail tightening around your legs as he pounds into you with abandon. The couch creaks beneath your combined weight, threatening to give way under the force of his thrusts.

"Ich liebe dich," he slurs, his words muffled against your skin. "Love you so much. Need you. Need to be inside you forever."

His confession sends you careening over the edge, your body seizing up as another orgasm rips through you. You clench around him, your walls fluttering and spasming as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

"Fuck, Prinzessin," Kurt groans, his hips stuttering as he chases his own release. "Feel so good. So perfect. Gonna come. Gonna fill you up."

With a final, bruising thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your waiting womb. You can feel the heat of his seed, the way it paints your insides, marking you as his.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the cushions as he pants against your neck. His tail unwinds from your legs, draping lazily over your thigh as he nuzzles into your hair.

"I love you," he murmurs, his voice soft and sated. "My perfect girl. Meine schöne Künstlerin."

You smile, your heart full to bursting with love and contentment.

.

.

.

Nearly a year later

The chapel was quiet save for the soft whisper of your pencil across paper. Early morning light filtered through the stained glass windows, casting familiar blue patterns across the wooden pews. Kurt knelt at the altar in prayer, his tail curved peacefully behind him, rosary beads wrapped gently around his three-fingered hands.

You'd grown comfortable here in these morning moments, sharing this sacred space with him. What had once felt like an intrusion now felt like belonging. Your sketchbook was filled with these quiet scenes—Kurt in prayer, Kurt reading his Bible, Kurt simply existing in this place that meant so much to him. But this morning was different. This morning, your hand trembled slightly as you drew, your mind wandering to the small box hidden in your art supplies.

It had taken weeks to create, working late into the night in your studio after Kurt had fallen asleep. A hand-carved wooden ring box, painted with delicate scenes from your relationship—the first time you'd been caught painting him, your first kiss, teaching art class together, quiet moments in the chapel. The ring inside was simple silver, engraved with tiny crosses and artist's brushes intertwined.

"You're thinking very loudly this morning, Liebling," Kurt's voice startled you from your thoughts. He hadn't moved from his position, but his tail swayed knowingly.

"Sorry," you mumbled, adding another shadow to your sketch. "Didn't mean to disturb your prayers."

"You never disturb me," he said softly, finally turning to face you with that gentle smile that still made your heart skip. "Though I am curious what has you so distracted. Usually you're much more focused when drawing in here."

You set down your sketchbook with trembling fingers. "Actually, I... I have something for you."

Kurt's eyebrows rose curiously as you reached into your art bag, pulling out the painted box. His golden eyes widened as you stood and walked to him, kneeling beside him at the altar.

"Kurt Wagner," you began, your voice shaky but determined, "you've been my muse, my inspiration, my best friend, and the love of my life. You've shown me that beauty exists in so many forms, that faith can be found in art just as much as prayer, and that love..." you had to pause, swallowing hard as his tail curled around your wrist encouragingly, "love can be both the masterpiece and the creation itself."

You opened the box, revealing the ring nestled inside. "Would you let me spend the rest of my life creating with you?"

Kurt's breath caught as he took in the painted scenes on the box, his fingers trailing reverently over the tiny details you'd spent so long perfecting. When he looked up, his eyes were shining with tears.

"Mein Gott," he whispered, "you've managed to surprise the teleporter." His tail tightened around your wrist as he pulled you closer, pressing his forehead to yours. "Did you really think there could be any answer but yes? You are the greatest masterpiece God has ever placed in my life."

Your laugh was watery as you slipped the ring onto his finger, a perfect fit just as you'd hoped. Kurt cradled your face in his hands, his touch infinitely gentle.

"Though I must say," he murmured, his accent thick with emotion, "you've rather stolen my thunder, Liebling." With his tail, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, making you gasp. "I was planning to ask you after morning mass."

Inside was a delicate gold ring with a blue sapphire that matched his fur perfectly. "Great minds think alike, ja?"

You couldn't speak through your tears as he slipped the ring onto your finger, but you didn't need to. The way you pulled him into a kiss said everything necessary, the morning light painting you both in shades of blue and gold through the stained glass windows.

"I can't wait to see how you'll paint this moment," Kurt whispered against your lips, making you laugh.

"Already planning it," you admitted. "Though I might need my muse to pose for several reference sketches."

His tail wrapped around your waist as he grinned. "I believe that can be arranged. After all..." he pressed another soft kiss to your lips, "we have the rest of our lives to perfect it."

Through the chapel windows, the morning light continued to paint you both in blues and golds, artist and muse, two hearts creating something beautiful together. And if anyone noticed that your afternoon art class was especially romantic that day, well... they were kind enough not to mention it. Though you did have to tell Jenny, once again, that no, she still couldn't paint Mr. Wagner for her assignment—even if he was now your fiancé.

.

.

.

You woke up to soft snores and looked over, unable to help but smile softly. Your husband's sleeping face was too cute to not smile at. After five years of being married, you'd never grow tired of waking up to this. Recently he had taken to growing out a goatee, saying it made him look more mature (you couldn't help but agree—after all, it made your mind wander a lot too). You carefully pulled out of his embrace without waking him; his tail was always a struggle to remove from its place around your leg without waking him, but you managed it. After a small silent dance of triumph, you moved out of your shared bedroom to the room across from it.

The room was halfway painted, though you had been working on it for the past six months. It had paintings of stories and family littered across it—scenes from Kurt's favorite fairy tales, the X-Men as loving aunts and uncles, even a small portrait of Professor Xavier smiling benevolently from above the planned crib space. You picked up a brush and were about to continue when you accidentally kicked a paint bucket. That's all it took, and with a sudden puff of smoke your husband had teleported in, his stance ready for action but relaxing when he saw it was just you up early.

"Mein Gott, woman, I thought you were a thief!" He exclaimed, holding his three-fingered hand over his chest before walking over with a soft tired smile and pecking your lips. "You're up early, I don't even hear the morning birds yet."

"Needed to stretch my legs," you hummed back, and he hummed softly in suspicion. His hand rested on your stomach.

"Are you sure it is not because of the Kleine?" He spoke in a teasing voice as he gently rubbed your stomach.

You leaned back against his chest, letting his warmth seep into you as you both gazed at the wall you'd been painting. His tail automatically wrapped around your waist, just above where your small baby bump was beginning to show. "Maybe," you admitted. "I just... I want it to be perfect before they arrive."

Kurt nuzzled against your neck, his goatee tickling your skin. "Liebling, with you as their mother, how could it be anything but perfect?" His hand joined yours on the brush. "Though perhaps we could add a few more acrobatic scenes? A future X-Man should know their father's best moves, ja?"

You laughed softly, mindful of the early hour. "Kurt, we don't even know if they'll be able to teleport yet."

"Ah, but they're already showing artistic talent!" He moved to stand beside you, gesturing dramatically at your stomach. "Look how perfectly they've rounded out your usually straight lines!"

"Did you just call me fat, Mr. Wagner?" you asked with mock offense.

His eyes widened comically. "Nein! Never! I merely meant to say you're more... sculptural these days?" His tail flicked nervously as he tried to backtrack, making you giggle.

"Saved it," you murmured, turning back to the wall. You'd been working on a particular scene—a small blue figure learning to teleport while protective arms waited to catch them. "Do you really think they'll like it? All of this?"

Kurt's arms wrapped around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder as he surveyed your work. "Mein Schatz, they will love it. Just as they will love you." His hand splayed protectively over your stomach. "Though perhaps we should add a small easel next to the training equipment? Best to be prepared for all possibilities."

You turned in his arms, brush still in hand, accidentally leaving a small blue streak across his chest. "Oops."

His grin turned mischievous. "Oh? Is that how we're playing this morning?" He reached for another brush. "You know, the wall isn't the only canvas in need of some color..."

"Kurt Wagner, don't you dare—" But it was too late. With a playful BAMF, he was behind you, painting a gentle heart on the back of your nightshirt.

What followed was a careful (mindful of your condition) but enthusiastic paint war, filling the nursery with quiet laughter and colorful streaks. By the time the sun began to rise, you were both covered in paint, sitting on the drop cloth and admiring your handiwork—both on the walls and each other.

"You know," Kurt mused, his tail drawing abstract patterns in a small paint puddle, "this might be your best work yet."

You looked around at the cheerful chaos you'd created together—the story-filled walls, the paint-splattered drop cloths, the mixing of your artistic vision with his playful additions. Your hand found his, fingers intertwining as they rested on your growing bump.

"No," you said softly, "I think our best work is still in progress."

His answering smile was brighter than the rising sun, and as he pulled you in for a paint-smudged kiss, you couldn't help but think that sometimes the most beautiful art came from life itself—messy, unexpected, and absolutely perfect.

Though you did make him clean up the paint footprints he'd teleported all over the mansion before the students woke up. Your gaze went over to the window which Kurt had helped you place the stain on. The blue hues glittered over the room and it filled you with a sense of love and happiness. Blue would always be apart of your life now, and you wouldn't have it any other way. 

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Hello! I was wondering, if you'd like, could you write a hc for Toshiro, Shinji and Shunsui (and if you'd like to add any other characters), dealing with a fem!reader who just won't confess her love, even though it's very obvious? It can be fluff or smut, whatever you prefer. I would love to see what you come up with! Thank you very much in advance! 💗

Bleach Men and Shy Reader

Hello! Sorry it took me a while to get to this! I'm always struggling to keep characterization accurate which is why this took forever. I love this request btw. So I just didn't get a HC feel for this because I felt like half the fun was in the dialogue of getting reader to confess. So I wrote scenarios instead. Hope you don't mind! ^_^' All fluff, slightly suggestive at places but mostly harmless.

icons by @/pfpanimes and @/xoxomyseriesxoxo

Toshiro (aged up)

"Y/n, I think we're good. We got all the information we need."

Toshiro runs a hand through his hair, his sharp blue eyes narrowing as he takes in their surroundings one last time. Their surveying mission had gone well and he was hoping to get back to Soul Society before the sun sets.

"Y/n...?"

He looks around, then his face turns into a look of exasperation as he sees you petting Hyorinmaru like a puppy. Even Hyorinamru seemed to be enjoying the attention, eyes closed, making a loud rumbling noise which he supposed could be comparable to a cat purring.

You were some distance away so he starts to walk over to you as you press your forehead against the large ice dragon's face. It was perplexing why Hyorinmaru behaved the way he did around you, but of course, zanpakuto were mainifestations of their owners. Hitsugaya's face relaxed slighty and took on a softer expression as you continued to play with Hyorinmaru. He was also uncomfortably aware of the way his heart beat a little faster when you were around. Perhaps that's why his zanpakuto behaved similarly.

You were cooing at the large blue dragon. "You're such a good boy. The best ice dwagon...yes..."

You press a kiss to Hyorinmaru's face. Softly, you then say, "I wonder if Hitsugaya taicho feels it when I kiss you..."

Hitsugaya freezes, wondering if he should say something. He didn't feel it, but wouldn't it be wondrous if he could?

"Y/n," he calls out, making you jump. Your face turns red, and you quickly try to compose yourself.

"Hitsugaya taicho! I apologize, I didn't hear you. Are we done with our mission?"

"Yes...I believe we are." He hesitates before saying, "What were you telling Hyorinmaru before?"

You feel your heart racing and try to brush off his question. "It's nothing! I was just being silly. He's a very sweet dragon."

"Yes, I suppose he can be..."

A moment of awkward silence passes between you both before you say, "We'd better get back to Soul Society huh?" Trying to pass over your awkward exchange, you slip past Hitsugaya and start walking back. Hyorinmaru vanishes a minute later as Hitsugaya follows you.

After a few minutes, Hitsugaya quietly says, "I can't feel it."

Your heart skips a beat. Surely you must have heard wrong. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I can't feel it when you kiss Hyorinmaru."

A jolt of electricty runs through you. Had he heard that?! "Oh, well good. That would have been weird."

"Yeah I guess so...but...would it be a bad thing?"

"Would what be a bad thing?"

"If I could feel it."

You feel like your heart may leap out of your chest. A nervous laugh bubbles out of you. "Well you can't so...I guess we'll never know!"

"I mean you could just tell me."

Your words catch in your throat. When you talk again, they come out shaky. "Tell you what?"

"If it's good or bad."

A very palpable, tense, moment lingers between both of you. All that can be heard is the rustling of your robes and your footsteps as the both of you continue to walk.

"I guess...it wouldn't be...too bad, right?" You offer.

"No, I don't think it would be." Hitsugaya looks directly at you. "Those words weren't meant for Hyorinmaru to hear excusively were they?"

You look away. "Well I wasn't saying it out loud intentionally if that's what you mean."

"What's the worst that could've happened? If you had said those words to me?"

"You may have gotten the wrong impression of me..."

"Wrong impression? So you don't like me?"

Well you had kind stepped right into that question. "I...I..."

Why was it so hard to admit your feelings? Your eyes squeeze shut.

"Hey, y/n. It's ok." Hitsugaya pats your shoulder reassuringly. "How about this? I'll bring out Hyorinmaru. You can tell him whatever you want. If that makes it easier."

You look at him with gratitude in your eyes. You knew you weren't getting out of this one until Hitsugaya had a satisfactory answer.

With a small swish of reiatsu, Hyorinmaru appears in front of you. You look into the striking blue eyes of the dragon, so similar to its owner, and take its face between your hands.

"Hey Hyorinmaru," you say softly. "So, I just wanted to say. I think I like someone, and he knows it. But...I'm scared to admit my feelings because...deep down...I feel like he's worthy of someone more talented and special. So if you have an answer to this, please let me know."

Warm hands wrap around your waist and to your surprise, Hitsugaya pulls you against him, resting his cheek on the back of your head.

"Is this enough for an answer?"

You take a deep breath, cheeks pink as a peach.

"Yeah. More than enough."

Shinji

You and Shinji trudged back to his quarters after a particularly tiring mission. It wasn't uncommon for you recuperate in his quarters because his place was simply the closest to the gate when getting back into the Seiretei. And after a long gruelling mission, questions about appropriateness get tossed out the window.

Your muscles ache and you feel your reiatsu pulse as you force yourself to walk. The comforting feeling of the courtyards near Shinji's quarters fill your senses.

"Not too far along now y/n. You can shower first this time."

You look at Shinji side eyed, remembering how the last time he'd hidden the soap when you had made a dash to the bathroom to shower first.

Clearly he was remembering it too because he smirks at you and says, "How about next time, you bring your own soap, you freeloader?"

"I'm a rookie shinigami, taicho. I hardly make enough to afford luxuries like soap." You respond sarcastically.

"You just wanna use mine because you like the way I smell. Admit it. You get off on having my scent on your skin." Shinji says teasingly, giving you a shit-eating grin.

The color rises in your face and you look away. It was true but you couldn't admit that. Instead you say, "As if. Like I enjoy smelling like your cheap deodarant."

"And how would you know my deodarant smells cheap? Have you been going through my toiletries y/n? Like some kind of pervert?" Shinji nudges you playfully.

"Why I might have to start hiding my boxers, in case I find you in my room sniffing around at night."

"Eeewww," you say, wrinkling your nose. You start to walk faster so that you're ahead of him, not wanting him to see how fantastically red your face is getting.

Chuckling, Shinji sprints after you, grabbing the back of your shihakusho, and bringing you to his side, arm draping possessively around your shoulders so that you can't move.

"Taicho," you say through gritted teeth. "What would happen if someone sees us this way? It's very unbecoming of a captain."

"Strange, I don't seem to recall you saying that whenever you crash at my place after a mission." Shinji stops walking and turns so that he's facing you, blocking your way, a hand on each of your shoulders.

You can't look at him now, and drop your gaze. "That's...different. I sleep in your spare bedroom. We both know that and would say the same. But this kind of behavior...out here in the open...someone might mistake us..."

"Mistake us how exactly?" Shinji presses, not relenting at the fact that you're barely able to keep your head up now. "Mistake us as...lovers?"

He drawls the last word and you squeeze your eyes shut. Your heart races and you can't seem to think of a comeback. He was so close to you and his hands were holding on tight.

"N-no," you stammer, trying to keep calm.

"No? What else could they mistake us for that's gotten you so red?" Shinji takes a step closer to you and grasps your chin, lifting you face up to look at his. Helpless, you look into his brown eyes which are looking at yours with amusement.

When you fail to reply, he continues. "There's plenty of reasons they could mistake us for lovers, y/n. I mean, we cuddle on the couch."

"That's because-"

"We've eaten together so many times I've lost count." He barrels over your objection. "Your toothbrush is in a cup on my bathroom counter. Do I need to keep giving you more examples about how unconventional our relationship is? It definitely isn't a captain-subordinate one anymore."

Caught, you try to jerk your face out of his grip which only tightens. "Well, doll? Because if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're living with me, but you seem to be trying to convince yourself otherwise."

"I-that's-" you sputter, trying to retort. "How about the fact that we don't feel that way about each other? Doesn't that count for anything?" you say desperately, hoping for a final chance to keep your heart from getting hurt.

Shinji's expression changes from amusement to thoughfulness. "Don't feel that way about each other...hmm...so...why am I teasing you this way? Why do I allow you to cuddle up to me when we're watching TV? Why am I here, forcing you to look at me, and making my intentions known if I don't feel that way about you?"

Your heart skips a beat and you quit struggling. He couldn't possibly...?

"And why are you blushing so much when I say all this? Why haven't you stopped looking at my lips this whole time?" His voice becomes a soft timbre and his hands drop from your shoulders to your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Why are you so resistant to what you're feeling towards me?"

Your chest swells with emotion as his words wash over you. For the longest time, you'd hidden your feelings, hoping he wouldn't notice. Because how embarrssing and cliche? A subordinate falling for her captain?

"I...may...like you as more...than my captain..." You admit grudgingly.

"There we go. Now was that so hard?" Shinji rests his thumbs on your cheeks, stroking gently. "For the record, I'm not playing around. I'm serious."

You peek up at him. "Promise?"

"Well...I'm not a fan of making promises I can't keep- OUCH!" Shinji lets out a yelp of pain as you shove him hard in the ribs before scurrying off towards his quarters.

Humbled, he quickly chases after you. "Y/n! I am dead serious! I didn't mean to hurt your feelings!"

When he hears you laughing, his eyes narrow.

"Very well then doll...I suppose I'll have to torture the confession out of you while hiding the soap again...maybe this time after you've gotten in the shower..."

Shunsui

Your eyes roam over the voluptous shinigami talking to Shunsui. He certainly seems to have a type. You sigh and try to focus on your own work. Being an aide to Shunsui has been insightful in terms of getting experience but also an eye-opening period where you would see how many women seem to sidle up to him for attention.

Shunsui chuckles at the woman before she saunters out, hips swaying. He fixes his hat and stretches, the neck of his shihakusho slipping down to reveal his toned pecs.

Such a slut you think to yourself as you try to finish your paperwork. Although, truth be told, you weren't sure if that was entirely true. Women went up to him all the time, sure. How many of those women made it back to his quarters was another question entirely. Not as many as people thought, according to Nanao.

Shunsui glances over at you, a cheeky smile widening over his face. "Enjoying the view?" he teases, as you suddenly flush, realizing you'd been staring shamelessly at his chest for the past minute.

"N-no," you stammer. "Just wondering how brazen you must be to have your shihakusho practically untied while in the office."

"Not as brazen as my subordinate who's been visually feeling me up," he shoots back with a wink.

You quickly look back to your paperwork. Was it your fault he was an attractive looking man for his age? You heart thuds in your chest and you take a deep breath to calm down. This does not go unnoticed by Kyoraku who puts his face on his palm, leaning on his desk looking at you.

"Let's get a drink tonight."

Surely you misheard him. "...What?"

"I know you heard me y/n." He chuckles, a rich, low, rumble emanating from his throat. "And based on what I've seen, I think you've imagined more than having a drink with me."

Your throat goes dry. "You got that...from a one-off look?" Your words come out like a croak.

"Well darling, you've been making eyes at me all evening. Thought I'd save you the trouble." He gets up from the desk and wanders over towards you.

Your brain goes into panic mode. "I-I can't. Busy today."

"Ah hm...I see." Shunsui says in that lazy way, getting closer to you. "Busy. So very busy. Tell me. What plans do you have tonight that you're too busy to get a drink with your captain?"

Your mind blanks out at his question. Seeing the look of disarray on your face, Shunsui offers you a sympathetic pat. "I can give you a minute if you need to come up with an excuse. Maybe pretend to watch the birds outside?"

Your cheeks burn at his suggestion. "Unnecessary. Clearly I don't have one. Apart from I don't want to."

"Now why's that? I like you, and you seem to return the feeling. I've been around long enough to know when a woman is interested in me. So what's the problem?"

"I'm your subordinate. And with your reputation I don't wish to be another statistic in your book."

"Statistic?" Shunsui looks at you with sharp eyes. "Darling, how many women do you think I've been with?"

"I don't know. 2000 years is a long time."

He looks stunned at your words then sighs deeply. "I don't know what you're thinking, but I'm not thinking of making you a 'statistic'. I actually like you."

Your heart races. "Say that again."

"I like you. I'm not too proud to hide how I feel. Now how about you stop insulting me and admit you like me too?"

You take a deep breath. "I'll have a drink with you."

"Well that's a start I suppose."

"And tie up your damn shihakusho."

"And miss the chance to have you stare at me all night?" Shunsui's eyes glitter with mischief. "I think not."

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 4

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Mentions of Cannibalism, Choking

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Ok, so clearly I'm a big fat liar. I'm sorry this chapter also took ages. I think I'm just a slow writer lmao. Anyway, it was fun writing this so I hope you guys enjoy it. As always, thanks for all the lovely comments I appreciate them a lot. Take care and have a good one!

"Where is he?" you snarl as you march through the halls gripping Iassa's choker. "Where is the na-Baron?" Your voice a threat.

"He is doing his morning drills, my lady," Zora, your new servant chases after you, growing increasingly panicked, "he trains with the Warmaster."

You pick up your pace, "Take me to him." When Zora hesitates, you yell, "Now!"

When you arrive, Feyd-Rautha is sparring with who you assume to be the Harkonnen Warmaster in a shallow recessed pit in the center of the training room.

"Where is she?" you call from the doorway, your voice filled with vitriol.

Your unexpected presence catches Feyd-Rautha off-guard and his sparring partner manages to cut his right abdomen through his shield. He growls at the Warmaster and snaps his head to you, "I am preoccupied at the moment, my lady."

"Where is Iassa?" your glare pierces through him.

"Who?" he asks genuinely confused.

Your grip on the choker tightens, "Don't pretend. The servant girl assigned to me. You left this in my room, didn't you?" The realization he had snuck into your quarters while you were asleep quietly creeps on you. "What have you done with her."

"Ah," he tilts his head, ignoring his bleeding wound, "I thought about just cutting her tongue out." A smirk grows on his lips, "but my darlings were hungry."

It was only then you noticed his concubines in the room, lounging in a corner of pillows. Their sharp-toothed grins only stoked your fury.

You scoff in anger, "because she revealed your farce? Are you so insecure?"

Is cocky expression evolves into a glare. "Leave us," he orders, eyes staying on yours. Servants flood out of the room asking with the Warmaster but it seems his pets were exempt from this command. "Why do you cry for a girl you knew less than two days?"

He was right. Why do you care so much? You were hardly 'close' with Iassa. You've had servants on Caladan and you were never particular with any of them. Would you anger for them the same way? Why must you suddenly be a paragon of justice? And at the risk of the Harkonnens' contempt?

When you remain speechless, the na-Baron continues, "You may not be familiar with slaves but here, their death is inconsequential—save for the economics of it all."

"Is that so?" You look at his pets then back at him. Your breath is dragon-like and your tone hardens, "then relieve your concubines."

"What?" Feyd-Rautha's low voice echoes through the room. His concubines hiss at you from their raised platform.

You stand taller, shoulders back, still clutching Iassa's choker in your hand, "If I am to be your wife, I demand you take no other women."

He takes a moment to determine how serious you are being, then decides it doesn't matter. He walks up the steps surrounding the pit and you aren't given time to react before he has your neck in his grip. "You are in no place to demand such things, Atreides." His black gritted teeth at the last word match the darkness of his voice.

Your hands fly to claw at his wrist, "How dare you lay a hand on me." You struggle against his unrelenting grip, "Let go of me!"

He leans down to your ear, "You're a feisty one, aren't you, little hawk?" You feel his hold continue to tighten and panic rises in your chest. Before you can be rendered speechless, you make a decision.

"UNHAND ME."

The Voice echos from your mouth seizing Feyd-Rautha's mind and his hand releases your throat. As you gasp desperately for air, he attempts to recover from the haze of the mental intrusion. When he finds his bearings, you see the thrill in his dark eyes. Witch, you can almost hear him say.

"Aren't you just full of surprises," he smirks.

"And I will have many more," you say bitterly. Straightening your dress, you regain your self-assured stance and meet his eyes with a cold stare, "Be rid of your harpies before we are wed or I will kill them myself."

You don't spare his concubines a glance as you turn to leave. You don't see the way Feyd-Rautha looks at you, head tilted, as you storm off.

You dismiss Zora and lock yourself in your chambers. Sprawled out on your bed, you stare up at the dark gray ceiling and question what could have possibly possessed you to challenge Feyd-Rautha the way you did. You go back and forth on whether or not it was an overreaction but eventually chalk it up to the Atreides' fiery defiance. Certainly, it wasn't the brightest decision but you sense that your father and brother would not have condemned it. Your heart is still pounding from the encounter. And the flicker in Fey-Rautha's eyes—you dismiss the idea that he might have enjoyed it.

You had hoped to hide your mother's training for longer. She had trained you and Paul in The Voice and Prana-Bindu. As a high-born lady, you could have been sent to a Bene Gesserit School in your formative years, but it was decided against due to Baron Vladimir's thinly veiled aversion to The Sisterhood. So, Lady Jessica resolved to teach you in secret. You were grateful for it anyway as you didn't have to be separated from your family. You think about how your mother would be able to continue to train Paul without you. You had always been more adept at The Voice than him. Now, he has the opportunity to surpass you. The thought triggers your competitiveness against your sibling but the feeling quickly melts into melancholy. You miss him. You miss all of them.

Is this to be your life? Married to a twisted psycho who feeds his concubines human flesh and kills people you care about? You sit up and place Iassa's choker carefully in the drawer of your nightstand. You hoped she didn't fear you as she did the Harkonnens.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door. You had really hoped no one would bother you for the rest of the day but then you feel the emptiness in your stomach. You had skipped breakfast that day to confront the na-Baron. When you open the door, Zora is holding a covered tray which you assumed, and hoped, to be lunch.

"Would my lady like to eat in solitude?" she asks after she sets your meal at the small table in your quarters. Your heart sinks. She is so young.

"Ah no, I would like you to stay if that's alright." You sit at your table and cut into your food while Zora stands politely to the side. "I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier. The na-Baron—my fiancé—he has caused me some aggravation."

"It is quite alright, my lady," she says, her head bowed low.

After your meal, you ask Zora to fetch you various projections on the planet of Giedi Prime from the Harkonnen archives. You were hesitant to make the request considering the fate of your last servant but you hoped you managed to convince Feyd-Rautha you were not to be trifled with. Besides, what harm could you do by learning about flora and fauna.

You spent the rest of the day watching informative holograms about your new home's ecology and biodiversity. Apparently, one of the planet's greatest exports is wood from the Pilingitam tree which is prized for its pliability when freshly cut but sturdy hardness once aged and dried. It was also anti-fungal and naturally fire-resistant. It was a surprise you didn't see much of it. Everything in the fortress was cold stone and concrete. You wonder how beautiful furniture made out of Pilingitam must be when carved by a skilled artist.

That night, you make sure to lock your door and fall asleep to images of sprawling landscapes.

The following day was similarly spent, watching projections about Giedi Prime's geographical features. You were left undisturbed save for Zora's quiet knocks on your door to serve your meals. Your life as a baroness is days away so you might as well educate yourself. Although, you suppose you should probably focus on politics and history more than the planet's Obsidian Planes but you weren't really in the mood to learn of the Harkonnens' gruesome past right now. You would cross that bridge when you got there.

Come evening, you hear an unfamiliar knock at your door. Zora had already brought you dinner earlier so you are wary as you crack open the door.

"Hello, little hawk." Feyd-Rautha's tall figure looms past the doorway.

You stare him down, making no move to let him in.

He tilts his head slightly, "Would you really kill my darlings?"

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Devil's Snare part.5

Aemond Targaryen x reader

Description: Aemond introduces Y/N to his mother as his betrothed, much to the displeasure of Otto Hightower. The strength of their love for one another is tested by the whispers which spread throughout the court of the one-eyed Prince and his strange choice to wed his handmaiden. All the while, Aemond is insistent that Y/N meet Vhagar.

Previous part

Writer's note: I am so sorry this took so long! I had major writer's block and overthought the hell out of it. Its giving "started making it, had a breakdown, bon appetit" for the people who get that reference 😂. Also wanted to avoid HOTD content when the leaks happened. We finally get the wedding in this part so shout out to @ateliefloresdaprimavera this one's for you! Unsure whether you guys want this to continue into the dance of dragons plot, I might need to diverge from canon. I thought I'd do a Lord of the Tides part next as a test run.

Warnings: female reader, canon typical misogyny, slut shaming, Granny Vhagar (in the flesh this time), sexual innuendo but no smut (sorry, I just don't read it so don't think I could write it well), lengthy as always.

Y/N felt nervous butterflies fluttering against her ribcage as Aemond led her along the halls of the Red Keep to his mother's chambers, grounded only by the feel of his hand wrapped around hers. It was all she could do to keep putting one foot in front of the other, so anxious was she of the Queen's response to her son's decision to marry her, a mere handmaiden. But she could not bear to hold Aemond back any longer, not when his face glowed with such happiness. Besides, she did not think he'd allow her to go back on her word now she'd promised herself to him. He'd all but taken her breath away with the force with which he'd kissed her and grabbed her hand to pull her from his chambers almost immediately afterwards in his eagerness. She'd subconsciously halted where she stood, her thoughts panicked and frenzied as she realised the weight of her words and that Aemond really meant to waste no more time in informing his mother, the Queen herself. Aemond, however, was all too impatient to marry the girl he loved. 

Stopping as he felt her hand go limp in his he turned to her, assessing the panic on her face. Suddenly taking hold of her waist, he pulled her against him so that their bodies seemed to melt into one another, causing Y/N to blush a furious shade of scarlet as she felt the contours of his body against hers. Aemond smirked, always pleased he was able to have such an affect over her. "I'm afraid my patience has been entirely spent, my love. I can tarry no longer in making you my wife. I will carry you to my mother's chambers if I must." His hand tightened around her waist, not enough to hurt but enough to make her gasp as she realised he may actually be serious. Strengthening her grip on his hand, she stuttered out a semblance of a response. "That will not be necessary, My Prince." Aemond's eyebrows shot up at that. "I am no longer just Aemond to you?"

Y/N's blush deepened at her blunder, hoping she hadn't offended him in her state of nervousness. "I am sorry, my love. It just slipped out."

Aemond's face softened and he lightly trailed a hand across her face. "You have not called me that before." Y/N realised he was right. Aemond was so free with his affections, with terms of endearment, but this seemed to be the last layer of intimacy she had struggled to breakthrough. Y/N looked down, somewhat ashamed that she had been so slow to offer Aemond the love he gave so freely in return, feeling strongly that she did not deserve him. Her chin was tilted upwards by a gentle hand as Aemond brushed his lips against hers, the ghost of a kiss. "It matters not what you call me, only call me yours and I should be content." Y/N felt such a strong surge of love for Aemond in that moment, in light of his understanding of her difficulty expressing affection and his unfaltering patience with her nonetheless. She felt her nerves dissipate a little, and grabbing his hand more resolutely she led them from his chambers herself.

Aemond had been pleased Y/N had gone willingly, he had not been jesting when he told her he'd carry her to his mother's chambers. He knew that she loved him and it was only the opinions of others that concerned her, and Aemond could no longer allow such unfounded fears to delay their union. He wanted her and by the grace of the Seven she wanted him too. That was all that mattered to him now, and he was prepared to fight for the girl he loved, from any opposition they may face. Aemond strode purposefully towards his mother's chambers, having no care for the lateness of the evening, but slowed as he felt Y/N's grip loosen oncemore, looking back to see her tailing behind him. Sighing, he lowered his torso to meet her eyes. "Y/N I will put you over my shoulder. Unless you have decided you will not have me after all?" He hated the tinge of insecurity that laced his voice.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide with alarm. "That is not what I want. I wish to be your wife. I am only frightened of meeting your mother."

Aemond took hold of her elbows. "I assure you there is nothing to fear. She will love you in time as I do. I will not allow anyone to come between us."

"You sound so certain."

Aemond shot Y/N a roguish grin. "You can depend upon it. Come now." Reclaiming her hand he pulled them down the final corridor which led to his mother's chambers, addressing his mother's sworn protector before they'd even reached the end of the hall. "Ser Criston, I would speak with my mother."

Ser Criston's eyebrows pulled into a confused frown as his eyes flitted between the Prince's serious expression and the hand which clasped his handmaiden's. "The hour is late, my prince. Her grace is presently engaged with the Hand of the King."

Aemond startled slightly before schooling his features into a mask of calm, not wishing to alarm Y/N any more. He had not expected to contend with both his mother and Otto Hightower this night, but it mattered little. He had no intention of backing down on the matter of his marriage to Y/N, whatever the opposition.

"It is no matter Cole, my mother will be gladdened by the news I bring her."

Aemond was not certain of this fact, but he assumed an air of self-assurance nonetheless as he released Y/N's hand to pat Criston on the shoulder, pushing the door to his mother's chambers open.

His mother's eyes snapped up to him as he entered, Y/N shuffling in behind him whilst lightly clutching onto his tunic. He discreetly reached behind him to take hold of her free hand, hoping to provide her some degree of comfort. His mother looked flushed as if she had just been shouting and his good eye immediately sought out the object of her distress, landing on his grandsire Otto whose expression was one of irritation. Aemond narrowed his eyes at the scene before him, clearly he had interrupted an argument. He loved his mother and had never forgotten how she had been the only one to speak up for him and defend him on driftmark when he had lost his eye. Fixing Otto with a stern glare he returned his gaze to his mother. "Mother, I wish to introduce you to my betrothed. I have asked Y/N to marry me and, happily, she has agreed to become my wife." Aemond spoke with finality, he would not prevaricate or draw this out any longer than he needed to. An eery silence followed for an agonisingly long time before Alicent rose to meet Aemond, hands reaching out towards him. He regretfully released Y/N's hand to take his mother's proferred hands. She spoke softly as if to a young child who needed to be coaxed away from doing something dangerous. "Aemond, she is your handmaiden."

"She was my handmaiden, she is my lady now."

Alicent shook her head and closed her eyes, as if when she opened them again the image of Aemond and his handmaiden would only have been a figment of her imaginings. When she opened them and observed her son's determined expression, she blanched. "Aemond, you cannot mean to marry a servant. You are a Prince of the realm and you know it is your duty to marry for the benefit of the crown. I'm sure your handmaiden is lovely, but she is not a suitable marriage prospect."

Aemond's own tone sharpened. He misliked his mother talking as if Y/N was not standing right behind him, her own hand tightening on his tunic.

"Mother, I did not come to argue with you. The matter is settled. I love her and will marry no other. Would you deny me this happiness I have been fortunate enough to find, after all I have lost?" Aemond began to hope his mother was losing her resolve as her eyes softened, one hand reaching up to cup his cheek. But it was at that moment that Otto hightower broke his silence. "Will you truly entertain this nonsense Alicent?"

Then turning to Aemond, "Are you so foolish boy? Or have you got the girl with child? There are other ways of dealing with this than sullying your title with a marriage to a low born girl." Alicnet had to push against Aemond's chest as his face contorted in anger, taking a step forward towards his grandsire. He practically snarled in response. "I will not suffer insults to my betrothed or allow you to taint her honour with your vile assumptions."

Otto's anger only rose to match Aemond's as he shouted back at him. "It would be an embarasment for your family, for your House, for the crown itself. Do you care for nothing but your own base desires, boy?"

Aemond's voice was dangerously low and seething. "My love for Y/N is pure, there is nothing base about it. I'll thank you to watch your words, grandsire. I intend to serve my House dutifully with Y/N at my side. Am I not our House's strongest sword? Do I not ride the largest and most ancient dragon in the world?"

Seemingly writing Aemond off as a lost cause, he looked around the Prince to the girl cowering behind him. Perhaps she might be swayed to sense.

"Girl, you must know that this would be a disastrous match for the realm. I am sure you must feel something for the Prince. Would you not then see him ascend to his rightful position and marry for the good of the realm?

The girl's face turned disconsolate. Aemond lost his composure entirely, brushing past his mother and advancing on his grandsire, each word laced with venom. "Do not speak to her as if she were just an object to be dispensed with when it is no longer of use."

Otto's eyes flitted back to the girl, ignoring his nephew's attempts at intimidation. He was sure Ser Criston would intervene if it came to violence.

"What will you take to renounce this farcical pact? A girl like you should want for security, the path you tread will offer you only strife and judgement. Will you take coin, jewels, an elevated position perhaps?"

He watched his nephew's reaction closely for any sign he would strike, coiled as he was like a viper.

Instead, he saw his nephew's face crumple and his good eye widen. Mayhaps he feared the girl would take him up on his offer.

Looking back to the girl, Otto was startled by the fierceness of the glare she now levelled at him. She'd only seemed a timid creature moments before, easily malleable to his will. She took determined steps forward until she stood next to Aemond, taking his hand in hers. Looking steadfastly up at Otto, she spoke for the first time with an air of confidence he had not expected from her. "I love Prince Aemond and I will not abandon him, whatever you offer me." His nephew's face softened as he gazed down at the girl, perhaps he had not expected such a reaction from her either. Before Otto could incite Aemond enough to strike him, Alicent intervened. "Aemond, we will discuss this further tomorrow. I will have separate chambers prepared for Y/N. She cannot be permitted to continue in service as your handmaiden if these are your wishes. It would continue to raise questions." Alicent knew her son. He was determined and unlike to make a vow he did not mean.

Aemond smiled at his mother, pleased by her softened resolve, though she still looked unconvinced. "Very well Mother, thank you. I will see you on the morrow." Lightly pulling Y/N with him he quickly strode from the room, not stopping until they had passed along several hallways and were far from his mother's chambers. Halting without warning, Y/N almost bumped into him before he caught her, wrapping her up in his arms and leaning his head down to rest against her shoulder.

"Thank you, my brave girl."

Aemond had felt a deeper scar than the one he bore upon his face begin to heal over as Y/N had affirmed her love for him, standing up to the Hand of the King himself to remain at his side. He could not put into words how much her actions had meant to him, knowing how difficult it must have been for her to do so. He cursed himself for believing, just for a moment, there was a possibility of Y/N taking Otto up on one of his sordid offers, so used was he to being the second choice as the second son, and even then it was only Rhaenyra his father truly cared for. He knew how inherently good Y/N was, how she returned his love, and decided his faith would never falter again. Releasing his hold on her he slid his hand down her arm before interlocking their hands. "Come, I will walk you back to the servant's quarters for tonight. Tomorrow you will have more adequate chambers fit for a princess."

Y/N lightly swatted at Aemond's chest. "Aemond, it would scare the servant's half to death for a Prince to show up unannounced at this hour. Rumours will run rife. And I am no princess."

"I do not care, my love I wish to walk my betrothed safely to her door. Besides, you shall be my princess shortly and I wish you to be treated as such. I would shower you with jewels if you would allow it."

Y/N blushed, looking down at the ground. "I have no need of extravagant gifts, Aemond. You know I have always managed quite well with my room in the Keep and with less before that."

Aemond frowned, his heart dropping at the thought of the hardships Y/N must have faced whilst his every need was tended to in the Keep. "I do not like to think of you suffering any deprivation." Y/N squeezed his hand comfortingly. "It was not so bad, I was very lucky to secure a position in the crown's service at a young age."

Aemond tucked a tendril of hair behind Y/N's ear, smiling softly at her and humming as if in thought. "Well, if you will not take jewels, I will need to find another way to express my adoration for you, little one."

Aemond made good on his promise, and everyday a squire would arrive at Y/N's newly appointed chambers to deliver a bouquet of bluebells to her door. Y/N had no idea how Aemond was managing to get hold of so many bluebells, aware as she was that they did not grow within the grounds of Kings Landing, but she adored them and her heart fluttered at the Prince's thoughtfulness. He had heeded her previous rejection of jewels, but he sent her gifts he thought would be more acceptable to her instead; books he thought she might like to read, as thanks to him and Helaena this had become a favourite past time of hers, new gowns in the colours of his House, which made the prospect of their marriage feel more real to her, that she really would be his lady. But it was the flowers that made her feel closer to him as her abrupt change of circumstances meant she could no longer spend time with him alone in his chambers, and she missed him when he was attending to his duties during the day.

She would have been bored out of her mind if not for the company of Helaena who was only too happy to receive her as a sister. She spent the better part of her days in Helaena's chambers, either playing with the little Prince Jahaerys and his sister Princess Jahaera, or discussing her upcoming nuptials with the Princess Helaena. Aemond came to see her at least once a day when it was permitted in his sister's chambers, or she would come to watch him in the training yard. But she misliked the stares she received and found herself seeing Aemond less and less as a result. The Queen had tentatively consented to her marriage with Aemond, despite the Hand's open distate, but she had not spoken to Y/N since. She was all too aware how the Queen and her father saw her as a burden to the Prince, to House Targaryen. As such, the wedding was set to be a small affair, which suited Y/N's shy nature. Though she did hope that in time she might be able to bond with the Queen if she truly saw how happy she and Aemond were together. What mother would not wish their son to be happy?

Rounding a corridor on the way to Helaena's chambers, Y/N heard giggles and muffled whispers, halting in her tracks as she heard the repeated refrain of Aemond's name.

"The Prince Aemond...marrying his handmaiden."

"With child, surely?"

"It is a wonder she is not frightened of him with that scar."

"I could not do it."

"Perhaps no other ladies of the court could stand it?"

She struggled to discern the nature of the conversation between the three ladies of the court, only picking out bits and pieces at first. But when she pieced it together she felt her blood heat as outrage rose up within her.

Before she could think through her actions, Y/N stepped out from behind the wall which concealed her and stormed towards the three ladies who glanced up at the heavy tread of her steps. "You should not speak of the Prince in such a manner. Have you no shame, no respect for the Crown?" The lady closest to her scowled, shifting her raven hair over her shoulders as she upturned her nose at Y/N. "Who are you to presume you can dictate what we should or should not discuss? This is a private conversation."

Y/N was sure she must resemble Vhagar, though she'd never seen the she-dragon, with her own flames pouring forth from her in the form of her heated cheeks. "I am the Prince Aemond's betrothed you speak of. I will not allow you to sully the Prince's name with your false rumours or distasteful remarks about the scar he bears through no fault of his own." The raven haired lady's tone turned mocking then. "So you are the handmaiden then? How dare you talk to your betters this way? Know your place girl."

Y/N's fists clenched unconsciously. "My place is beside the Prince, or defending him from ignorant people like you who would insult him over something entirely out of his control. I must refute your cruel assumptions. The Prince is a noble warrior, a fierce dragon rider, and a dedicated scholar, deserving of your respect. Greater still, he is kind and a gentleman, and I do not fear him in the slightest. Any lady would be lucky to receive his affections and it is my good fortune that he has decided to bestow them on me, though I am but a lowly handmaiden as you say. This only speaks more to his character, that he is able to see past the physical appearance of things, unlike certain members of this court."

Chest heaving, her breath coming in short pants as she finished her tirade, Y/N glared at the three ladies, daring them to speak another word against Aemond.

The raven haired girl took a step towards her, a clear attempt at intimidation. "Be careful girl. You are not wed yet. Who knows how long you will have Prince Aemond's favour. The love of a Prince is a fickle, fleeting thing." When Y/N only continue to scorch her with her glare, the three ladies stalked away. Y/N could feel herself still trembling slightly in her anger at the insults levelled at Aemond. She had never stood up to anyone, her naturally timid nature and status as a servant did not lend themselves to such agency. Though she felt a sense of satisfaction in having done so in defence of the man she loved.

Alicent Hightower had been making her way to her daughter's chambers when she came across the odd sight of the girl, Y/N, squaring her shoulders and raising her voice to three ladies of the court. Shocked at first that she should be so brazen, she stepped forward to intervene, quickly relenting once she approached close enough to hear the nature of the girl's tirade. Instead, the Queen felt her heart warming to the girl as she heard her passionate defence of her son, beginning to understand the depth of Aemond's feelings for the girl. No one save herself had ever defended him so steadfastly. And Alicent could admit that even she had been somewhat lax in expressing her affections for Aemond. This girl clearly loved her son, unconditionally so, and Alicent could not but help to feel grateful to her for this fact. She loved all of her children and wanted them to feel safe and loved. The King barely took note of Aemond, no matter how hard he tried to embody the traits of a true Targaryen, whilst he revered Rhaenyra's plain featured bastards. It was an insult to all decency. In that moment, Alicent resolved to accept this marriage fully and try to bond with the girl, Y/N she reminded herself. Aemond deserved to be loved and she would defend his right to marry the girl should her father or husband express any further opposition.

Aemond was surprised to be summoned to his mother's chambers that evening, she spent the greater portion of her time with Helaena and rarely sent for him. Though he often wished she would show him more affectation as his mother. He grew concerned she wished to talk him out of his engagement with Y/N, already having tentatively expressed her apprehension to the match to no avail. He would not hear anymore on the matter if that were the case.

"Prince Aemond, your grace."

"Thank you Ser Criston."

Aemond entered his mother's chambers as Cole announced him, back ramrod straight and hands clasped behind his back.

Hi mother waited until Cole had shut the door behind him before taking both his hands in her own. "I wish to talk to you on Y/N, Aemond."

"Mother..."

"No, let me speak my peace. I wish only to tell you that I approve of your marriage to the girl and give you my blessing. I will defend your choice alongside you should the need arise again. Though I believe your grandsire has written it off as a lost cause and you well know your father's condition."

Aemond squeezed his mother's hands, hardly believing such a change could have come about so suddenly. "I thank you, Mother. May I ask what has prompted you to change your opinion on Y/N?"

Aemond felt the love he had always wished for from his mother as she smiled warmly up at him. "You'll be pleased to know your betrothed is not so timid as she seems. I came across her defending you quite passionately against three members of the court today. She would hear no insult to your name or your intentions towards her, and made her love and respect for you abundantly clear to the three ladies...and to myself. I confess myself greatly moved by her love for my son."

Aemond felt pride rise within him at Y/N's defence of him and his love grow for her if that were even possible. Taking his mother's hand to place a kiss upon her knuckles, he released her to go and thank his lady. "My heart is gladdened to hear of it mother, and grateful for the affect it has had upon your own. I will bid you goodnight now."

Y/N jumped at the sound of a knock at her chamber door. The hour was late and she had been preparing for bed. She was not entirely certain she should be opening the door in her night dress at this hour but did not wish to be rude if it were a matter of importance, a summons from the Queen herself even. Y/N had barely taken the lock of the latch and opened the door before she was unceremoniously crushed to Aemond's chest, shrieking as she was lifted into the air and spun until her back met the door as he quickly swung it closed, shushing her as he did so. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck reflexively, though she knew he would not drop her. "Aemond what in the Seven..?"

Aemond silenced her with a kiss that took her breath away as he continued to hold her against his body. Melting into his kiss, Y/N tangled her hands in his hair, not caring anymore for the abruptness of his greeting. Pulling away so they could catch their breath, Aemond gently set her down though he kept a hold on her waist. To Y/N, his face looked ethereal in the soft glow of the candle light as he smiled at her.

"I apologise for startling you, my love. I did not wish anyone to see me enter given the lateness of the hour."

Y/N was half dazed by Aemond's proximity and the tingling sensation on her lips from when he'd kissed her, but she willed herself not to just stand gaping at him. "And what brings you to my chambers at this hour?" Her tone was light and teasing. She had missed him and was glad he'd come to see her whatever his reason.

Aemond stepped closer towards Y/N before bringing his lips to her jaw. Y/N gasped softly, but pulled him closer to her instinctively as he kissed down her jaw and spoke against her skin. "I came to thank you for defending me. My mother spoke of it to me."

Y/N's eyes fluttered closed as Aemond began to kiss her neck but tried to maintain a degree of composure to respond to him. She had not been aware of the Queen's presence at the time. "I did not like to hear others speak badly of you. They do not know you as I do." Y/N lifted a hand to stroke his hair as Aemond hummed in response, planting a kiss against her clavicle just above the neckline of her night gown. Her eyes flew open as she realised for the first time that she was, in fact, only in her night gown and the situation was less than appropriate. Pushing Aemond back slightly by his shoulders she tried to keep her voice quiet so as not to alert anyone who might pass by to Aemond's presence in her chambers. "Aemond, I'm only in my night gown!"

Aemond looked confused that she had only just realised this. "I'm well aware, you look beautiful."

Y/N blushed scarlet. "That's not what I meant. But if we're seen together like this, people will think..." She trailed off, hoping Aemond would understand her concerns without her having to spell it out.

Aemond grinned at her. "I only wished to thank my lady for defending my honour. Having done so I shall depart forthwith. I will be discreet." He took Y/N's hand and pulled her with him as he quietly opened the chamber door, glancing around for any signs of movement. Quickly turning to bid his lady goodnight with a final peck on the lips, he shut the door behind him and hurried back to his own chambers, unable to contain his smile as the image of Y/N's flushed cheeks and hair mussed from his ministrations swam in his mind.

Y/N shivered as a cold breeze blew through the courtyard of the Red Keep, blowing whisps of hair into her eyes, which she quickly brushed away. Aemond had asked her to meet him that morning for she knew not what, but the presence of the horse being saddled by a young squire by the steps of the Keep entrance concerned her somewhat.

"Y/N"

At the sound of her voice she looked up to see Aemond taking the steps three at a time to meet her, immediately wrapping an arm around her waist to kiss her as he reached the bottom.

"Good morning, my love" He pulled back to smile at her, the biting cold of the crisp morning seemingly having no affect on his mood. She supposed the blood of the dragon spared him.

Placing a hand against his chest she realised she was right as heat seemed to radiate from him whilst she stood there shivering. "Good morning, Aemond."

Taking hold of the hand that was on his chest in both of his, Aemond began rubbing his hands up and down hers "Your hands are cold. We should head off while the skies remain clear." With that he began pulling her towards the horse, just as she'd feared. She'd never ridden before and could foresee embarassment just at the thought of mounting the horse. "And where are we going, Aemond?"

Without stopping Aemond called back to her over his shoulder. "To visit Vhagar. It is important to me that you become acquainted." Y/N blanched, she'd expressed her interest in dragons early on to Aemond, they were almost like gods to her, but also her fear of them...and Vhagar was the largest and fiercest of them all. Aemond had taken to mentioning Vhagar with increasing regularity to her and she should have realised this was inevitable. His grip on her hand was tight and carried with it a sense of finality. Sighing and accepting her fate, hoping the dragon wouldn't cook her on sight, she asked the other question that was on her mind.

"Why do we have need of a horse to see your dragon? The dragon pit is within walking distance, is it not?"

"Vhagar is too large for the dragon pit. She resides on the outskirts of the city."

Y/N gulped. Aemond was always so nonchalant about his fearsome dragon, as if she were a friend to him rather than a fire breathing beast. She could not be so calm about the danger.

As Aemond released her hand to take the reigns of the horse from the squire, she looked sceptically at the saddle. Before she could make a disastrous attempt at mounting the horse, warm hands lifted her by the waist onto its back. Aemond followed swiftly, positioning himself behind her.

Y/N blushed as Aemond reach around her to take the reigns, encompassing her in his arms as the horse broke into a canter. His breath tickled the hair by her ear as he leant his head on her shoulder. "Relax." She realised she had been sitting stiff as a board, tilted forward, and leaned more fully into him, her back pressing against his chest. She felt a sense of security in Aemond's arms, even as she want to meet a dragon, his warmth seeping into her.

Aemond smiled as he felt Y/N shift closer to him, basking in her proximity and how far they had come for her to be so comfortable with him now. He'd been bemused at the look on her face as she'd approached the horse, tentatively placing her smaller hand on the saddle. He doubted she had any or at least very little experience with horse riding. Lifting her up onto the horse himself and wrapping his arms around her to take the reigns, he thought to himself that he should have invented an excuse to do so long before.

They fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by Y/N's gasp as what she'd thought had been a huge mountain moved and lifted its head, seemingly sensing its rider's approach. Not a mountain...Vhagar.

"It is alright, Y/N. She will not harm you. I am here."

Bringing the horse to a stop a safe distance away from the she-dragon, Aemond jumped down before turning to lift Y/N down. Vhagar was looking inquisitively at them and Y/N feared she was wondering whether Aemond had brought her a snack, though she was also awestruck by the sight of a real dragon before her. "Stay here a moment, I will calm her before I introduce you."

With that he approached the large dragon as if she were only a small dog, speaking softly to her and patting her snout when he was close enough.

"Lykirri Vhagar, dohaeras."

Y/N felt her lips quirk up in an involuntary smile and her cheeks heat at the smooth, low tone of Aemond's voice as he spoke in High Valyrian. She had not heard him speak it before but found it unspeakably attractive. Y/N could not understand what Aemond was saying, but whatever it was seemed to have a calming affect on the she-dragon as she rested her head back on the ground, not even looking at Y/N anymore. She could not school her features before Aemond looked back at her, returning to her side and looking down at her questioningly. "I do so love to see you blush, might I inquire as to the cause on this occasion?"

Y/N wanted the ground to swallow her up at his directness, but as she began to turn from Aemond to hide her glowing cheeks, he only took hold of her elbow and turned her back towards him. "There is no need to be embarassed, Ñuha prūmia." As her blush deepened and she squirmed away from him realisation dawned on Aemond's face, and he graced her with a knowing smirk.

"Ah, I see."

Y/N felt the need to explain herself, but only managed to stumble over her own words. "It is only that I like to hear you speak in Valyrian, it has an elegance to it. I mean to say that I find the sound of your voice comforting. Wait, that sounds worse." Flustered she placed her head in her hands, hearing Aemond chuckle softly as he prised her hands from her face. "I am glad you like the sound of my voice, my darling, and I'll speak to you in High Valyrian more often if it should please you.

Brushing his hand over her blazing cheek he brought his face low to speak against her ear, his voice barely above a whisper.  "Iksā gevie, Issa jorrāelagon."

A shiver went down Y/N's spine, though she did not understand the meaning of the words. "What does it mean?"

Aemond pulled back, his smile widening at her physical reaction to his voice. "Do you truly wish to know?" Y/N narrowed her eyes in suspicion at the cunning glint in Aemond's eye, resolving to just ask Helaena later. She hoped it was not anything too crude. "I'm suddenly not so sure I do." Aemond patted her cheek affectionately before taking her hand in his. "Come then, I wish you to meet Vhagar. She is calm now. It is safe."

Interlocking their fingers, Aemond gently pulled Y/N towards Vhagar until she was close enough to touch the she-dragon. Pulling their joint hands up, he placed Y/N's palm on Vhagar's side. The Prince observed Y/N's face switch from one of trepidation to a look of of wonder as he smoothed their hands down the tough surface of Vhagar's scales. His dragon was not perturbed in the slightest, a relaxed hum reverberating through her as she huffed out soft tendrils of smoke.

He knew that Vhagar could feel the great importance the girl beside him held for Aemond, could feel his love for her, through their shared bond. And as such she would not harm her. But it warmed his heart to see the two great loves of his life interact. His bond with Vhagar had been the most important connection in his life before he met Y/N. She was his only friend, their bond with one another unequivocal, unbreakable. Introducing Y/N to Vhagar felt like baring the most essential parts of his soul to her. He hoped that Y/N might even agree to a ride with Vhagar in the future as she grew more comfortable with his dragon, and his heart raced with excitement at the prospect. There was no feeling like riding high in the skies, as if touching the heavens, nothing so pure as the trust between a dragon and it's rider. Aemond wanted to experience this with Y/N in time.

Y/N allowed the Queen to manage preparations for her wedding entirely, grateful there would only be a small wedding feast afterwards. The Queen had been nothing but warm and welcoming to her since she'd witnessed Y/N defending her son so vociferously. Y/N would be forever grateful to Helaena for teaching her the basics of dancing and only hoped she would not embarass herself too greatly, though she was excited at the prospect of dancing with Aemond. There was only one matter she had a strong opinion on, and that was her dress. One conversation with Helaena had convinced her that her dress should be blue. The Queen had seemed unsure at first, the common colour being white, but did not see the harm if Y/N was adamant.

Though Y/N was racked by nerves on the morning of her wedding, she was overjoyed by the way her dress had turned out. The soft midnight blue fabric and the golden detailing shifted elegantly as she moved, and Y/N thought it resembled the night sky. She only hoped Aemond would also like it. Butterflies erupted in the pit of her stomach as she faced the long expanse of the aisle of the Sept, her arm interlocked with the Prince Aegon's.

Aemond's brother had been surprisingly pleasant to her, despite his reputation for being somewhat of a menace at court, and had offered to walk her down since she had no surviving male relatives of her own to do so. Searching Aemond out, she felt her nerves settle somewhat at the sight of him, handsome garbed in his ivory tunic and with a soft smile upon his face as he took her in. Taking his hand in hers, Y/N felt a wave of calm rush over her at how their hands fit together, as if made for one another. Her feeling of contentment, of pieces falling into place, only intensified as they spoke their vows and Aemond placed a cloak embroidered with the colours of House Tagaryen over her shoulders.

The wedding feast itself passed with little ceremony, including only a small gathering of nobles. Aegon had sunk into his cups early into the evening and managed to make a fool of himself drunkenly pulling Y/N about the room in the semblance of a dance, insistent that he should "welcome his new sister into the family properly" before she was rescued by her husband. Her heart fluttered at the thought as she placed her hands on his shoulders and he pulled her close to lead her in the steps of the dance. Aemond did not much like to dance, but that night he did for Y/N and found he did not mind so much when it was his wife he held in his arms rather than the simpering noble ladies that had been thrust upon him at feasts before. As the hour grew late and Y/N felt herself growing overwhelmed under the watchful gaze of the courtiers, they made to retire to their chambers. Aegon had just barely spoken the words "bedding ceremony" before Aemond fixed him with a glare so fierce he immediately quietened and went back to his cups.

Shutting the doors to their shared chambers, his heart warming at the thought, Aemond's smile fell as he turned to see his wife anxiously wringing her hands and shifting from one foot to the other. He gently gripped her shoulders. "Are you well, my love?"

"I confess I am a little afraid." Realisation dawned upon him. It was not uncommon for ladies to be concerned about their wedding night, but he did not wish his wife to be.

"You needn't be. We do not have to do anything. I can just hold you."

Aemond's felt a surge of guilt at Y/N's still uneasy expression, he hated to think she felt she had to do anything she was not yet comfortable with out of duty. It was more than enough for him that she was now his wife. He wished her to understand that he would never force her, or pressure her for anything more than she would allow.

Gently taking her hand he purposefully pulled her away from the bed to the chaise in the centre of the room. "Come, sit and talk with your husband a while."

He hoped if he continued on as they normally would, Y/N would feel less nervous. Keeping hold of her hand in both of his he turned to her, mouth quirked up in a conspiratorial smirk. "You have been thoroughly inducted into House Targaryen now with all its foibles. I hope Aegon's fool hardy behaviour did not alarm you too much. I must warn you that I will not allow myself to be parted from you even if it did."

Aemond felt his heart warm at her laugh, hoping she was beginning to feel more comfortable. They talked for a while before Y/N suddenly quietened, her expression sheepish. Aemond squeezed her hand gently, concerned that his wife might be afraid of him by the way she was looking at him. Her next words quickly dispelled that thought. But they instilled in him a different fear entirely, causing him to stiffen as she tentatively raised a hand to brush against his cheek, along the strap of his eyepatch.

"May I see you without your eyepatch, husband?"

Aemond caught her wrist, halting her movements, his voice laced with an admixture of shame and fear he had carried with him since he had lost his eye. He had gained a dragon, the largest and fiercest in the world, but he had been irreparably maimed for it. It was an act of violence that had changed the way people looked at him ever since and he could not bear it if Y/N should look at him with disgust or horror, or shame. "It is an ugly thing, my love. Not for the faint of heart."

"It is a part of you, Aemond. I will not judge you for it. I wish only to look upon the face of my husband, who I love dearly."

Aemond closed his eyes briefly, trying to control the erratic beating of his heart as he sought a way to distract his wife from her current train of thought, to disway her from her wish to see what lay beneath his eyepatch. He did not know if he could part with this layer of armour, the fear of rejection palpable in the air between them.

"I do not know..."

Y/N cut him off before he could give his excuses.

"If you will not show me, will you tell me how it happened? If it is not too painful. I know that it was your nephew Lucerys who was to blame." Aemond was surprised by the biting tone of his wife's voice as she spoke the name of his nephew. But he was grateful for the escape she had offered him and so he told her everything. Of how he had so oft been an outcast, jeered at by his brother and nephews when his dragon egg failed to hatch. He told her of how they'd mocked him with the promise of a dragon, only to present him with a pig. He told her of how he'd tried to offer his nephew Jacaerys comfort upon the death of Harwin Strong, of how he'd been rebuked and sought out Vhagar. How he'd claimed the largest dragon in the world, and how he'd lost an eye for it.

All the while Y/N stroked the side of his face, his hair, her eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowing at each painful memory Aemond recalled. When he'd finished, she pulled him to her, his head coming to rest in the crook of her neck. "I hate that you have suffered so much at the hands of those who should love you. I wish I had been there for you." Aemond felt his heart seize, unused to such care, such devotion to his well being. "I do not wish to distress you, my wife. I am perfectly content now."

Y/N huffed. "I always want you to feel comfortable telling me about these parts of yourself Aemond. I would like a word with your nephews though" she grumbled out under her breath. Aemond let out a hearty laugh at that, clutching his wife tighter to him "Perhaps it is not Vhagar my enemies should fear, but my fearsome, protective wife. I have long since forgiven Lucerys, it is his lack of punishment that has always pained me, rather than the act itself."

Y/N pulled away from him to look into his face, cupping his cheek where his eyepatch rested. "Then you are a better man than most."

As gratitude for his wife's care washed over him, Aemond felt that he did not need to hide from Y/N anymore, that it might be a relief for her to see him as he truly was without the fear of her reacting negatively. She had not judged him at any moment for his scar or as he told her of the misfortunes of his childhood. Had she not been the one to mend the very eyepatch he now wore upon his face the day they had met, knowing what it meant to him? He trusted her fully, and would show her as much.

"I do not mind if you wish to see it, my love." Taking strength from the warmth of his beloved's hand he placed both their hands atop the strap of his eyepatch and slowly removed it from his face, leaving only the sapphire where his eye should have been. He closed his good eye, not wishing to see his wife's initial reaction, aware the sight was ghastly and harrowing for most. The soft touch of her fingers down the line of his scar grounded him, reassuring him that she was not disgusted with him. She did not despise him.

"It is beautiful, Aemond."

Aemond snapped his eye open, looking at Y/N as if she'd lost her mind. "Beautiful? I expected you to shriek or faint at the sight of it. You are always surprising me Y/N."

"I think every part of you beautiful, the sapphire compliments you well. Why did you think I had a blue dress made? It is not the common colour for a wedding gown."

"You had your dress made to match me?"

Aemond spoke slowly, each word latent with barely repressed emotion.

Y/N nodded eagerly. "Yes, Helaena told me of your sapphire. I know it is not common knowledge but I thought it might please you."

Moved by his wife's sweet gesture, Aemond pulled her towards him so she was halfway in his lap, one hand holding her head to his chest.

"I worried you would hate me for it, that you would come to regret tying yourself to a man with such a deformity when you are perfection itself."

Y/N pulled back from him then, all seriousness as she considered how best to show Aemond that his scar did not make him any less in her eyes, that she love all of him.

"I could never hate you, and it does not frighten me. If anything I only love you all the more for allowing me to see you this way, for trusting me. And as to me being perfect, I assure you it is only you who thinks so and I most certainly am not."

Leaning over Aemond, Y/N placed a trail of kisses along the length of his scar, pulling away to rest her hand on his cheek. "You will always be the most handsome man to me. My brave husband."

Y/N lowered herself from her position leant over him until she was straddling Aemond, his hands moving to her waist to keep her secure as he gazed up at her in awe. Bringing her lips to his, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself as close as she could to him. In the comfort of his arms and with the feel of his lips on her, Y/N realised she had never felt so safe, so seen with anyone as with Aemond, and her previous worries dissipated. She parted her lips, allowing Aemond to deepen the kiss, before reaching one hand down to take hold of Aemond's.

He did not oppose her as she moved it from her waist to place it on her collarbone, slowly moving it down her chest until it rested over her breast. She heard Aemond's breath hitch but steeled her courage as she continued to move her lips against his, all the while trailing his hand down her torso, her hip and finally her thigh. Aemond pulled away from her then to look into her eyes, seemingly searching for any doubt. "Are you sure, my heart?"

Y/N had never been so sure of anything in that moment as she was of her love for Aemond and his love for her. Bringing her hands up to his shoulders she pressed her lips to his forehead. "Yes."

Aemond smiled tenderly at her, his voice soft as he ran his fingers through her hair. "Avy jorrāelan." He knew that she would understand what that meant from the tone of his voice. Pressing her closer to him still, if that were possible, the prince crashed his lips against hers.

Valyrian translations:

Avy jorrāelan~ I love you

Iksā gevie~ You are beautiful

Issa jorrāelagon ~My love

Nuha prumia~ My heart

This might be the prettiest a man has ever looked. I was in shock your honour.

Also. How the fuck did he do this????!!!!

@zoetje2004 @jjkysnk @ieieibhibu8 @skymoonandstardust @truly-abysmal @idonotknowenglish @leonesimp @hyacinthesiss @nanawaffles @callsigncrushx @bitchyfestivalbouquet @void21 @sapphiresandferrari @pinkykats-place

@lportes-22

@superintenseart @youknownothingjohnwatson

@misspinkonmars @ateliefloresdaprimavera

[anxiteyandsleep]

I'm so sorry if I made you flustered about the smut question- didn't mean to! 🫢🫣😆

Okay so I'm gonna try and request this: 🙏

Could I please request Thranduil x Male reader who's this tall and buffed tiefling (big horns, long strong tail) who looks scary asf but is actually a total sweetheart? He only looks intimidating bc he's always wearing his armor, covers his face with a cloth/a mask, has dark makeup around his eyes and basically looks like a fricking demon?

He wears a cloth/a mask around his mouth bc he has a big open scar on his cheek (naaah nothing too graphic he just can do this trick with food where when you're facing his healthy side he sticks a carrot into the opening (scar) on the other side and chews without even opening his lips- totally normal- he did it in front of Legolas once and that poor child didn't sleep for a week). He's not ashamed of it, he just doesn't like the stares.

Even tho I'm as old as the first LOTR movie I only just now became a fan and I saw that Thranduil has an injury on his face as well (but hidden) so that got me thinking...

Maybe reader and Thranduil are a couple (reader was treated badly for being a barbarian tiefling -> not by Thranduil <- but proved himself when he saved him) and he then made reader his personal guard, became friends and then lovers.

Thranduil is curious about reader hiding his face but never pushes him to uncover himself (Like why are you hidding yourself from me hmm? Why don't you kiss me? Your other facial features are gorgeous asf, for a tiefling barbarian who rips goblins in half with his bare hands you could even compete with some elves I know-).

One day Thranduil has some issues with his own injury which reader sees and comes to his aid, Thranduil is embarrassed and nearly breaks down, tears fill his eyes bc his love saw his hideous face and is afraid he will leave him (god I'm so bad at romance bro) but reader just chuckles, takes the cloth/mask from his face and shows Thranduil his own injury.

Now they both have scars! They know each other struggles! And they love each other like never before! Happy ending- No but really, angst with fluffy comfort for our two boys and mainly for the elf himself, he needs the love.

Maybe even emotional way back to their shared bedroom by sunset all lovely dovely bc why dafuq not- just Thranduil giggling kicking his feet and twirling his hair as he's princess carried-

Jesus...I got way too into this. 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Sorry for it being so long, I honestly don't know how to write short requests...also sorry for any mistakes, english is my second language.

Add something, remove something, it's up to you. You don't even have to write it if you hate it or you're not comfy with it. 😘😘

This is adorable ahhh and dw you didn't make me embarrassed or anything! I may have missed some details, this was written over the course of multiple days with very little sleep😭

I included my head canon that Thranduil is blind in his one eye from the dragon fire, as well as that when low on energy he can't keep the disguise up.

Slight TW for blood, scars and such???

It has been almost a year since you and Thranduil had started dating, you were his personal guard and beloved boyfriend, he adored you so much. He never knew why you hid your face but he didn't pry, especially considering he hides his face in a way too.

Thranduil had always been impressed by you, a strong tiefling with a kind soul, much like a gentle giant. Sure you were rather... Gruesome in battle, using your bare hands to fight and always returning covered in blood and gore. It was truly terrifying but Thranduil loved it, especially after you had saved him from a spider attack.

Today, however, Thranduil was hiding away from his beloved barbarian, tucked away in his room with nothing but a small candle dimly lighting the room. He had overworked himself again, his head was aching and he had no energy left to maintain his disguise, the burnt skin and muscle visible, a sight he despised.

When you heard that Thranduil was taking the day off and locked himself in his room, you grew worried. He's never done that before, usually on his days off he spends them with you, taking a walk through the garden or getting some much needed sleep. So of course you immediately went to check on him, making your way to your shared bedroom.

"Thranduil? Are you alright? I heard the guards say you weren't feeling well and I-" you fell silent as you entered the bedroom, squinting as you adjusted to the dim light but you knew exactly what you saw. You never knew Thranduil had such a scar, it covered the left half of his face and his eye was completely white.

Thranduil had to turn his head completely to actually see you, quickly attempting to cover up the scar but alas, he couldn't manage to use his magic in such a state. He never wanted you to see this side or him, he wanted to keep this horrid scar hidden from you.

"(Name)... What... What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be on patrol?" He managed to get out, clearing his throat and doing his best to speak in his usual tone but his voice still sounded shaky. Perhaps if he didn't bring attention to the scar, you would just ignore it as well

"I just got back, my love..." You replied, slowly walking closer to Thranduil, head tilted slightly in curiosity as you examined the scar. When you reached the edge of the bed, you knelt down before him, resting your chin on his legs. "is that from the dragon you faced?"

Thranduil sighed softly, closing his eyes as he couldn't bare to look at you, afraid he'd see disgust in your eyes. "yes...I managed to survive but..." He vaguely gestured to the scar, shaking his head slightly. Thranduil finally opened his eyes again when he felt your strong hands holding his, the touch was so gentle and caring, he just had to see you.

The way you were looking at him surprised him, your eyes were full so of love and admiration, it made his heart swell.

"We kinda match" you hum in a soft whisper, reaching up to remove the mask you always wore and revealing your own scar. You weren't ashamed of it, you mostly hid it for everyone's comfort as the sight of your open cheek often made people uneasy and you hated the looks they'd give you.

it was now Thranduil's turn to stare in awe, one of his delicate hands reaching up to gently trace around the scar, his fingers soft and gentle as always. "hm I suppose we do, my love" he replied softly his hand trailing up to gently trace over your horns, following the pattern and ridges of them.

"forgive me for keeping this from you... I... I do not like people seeing me in such a state but I should've told you" Thranduil apologized, moving his hands back to gently cup your face, being careful to not disturb the scar

You couldn't help but chuckle a little, leaning into his touch while your tail wagged slightly. "there's no need to apologize, I kept a secret from you too"

Thranduil felt as if a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders, the stress slowly melting away as he held you in his hands. "Well now that we both have told the truth, how about we rest?" He whispered sweetly, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss, one you eagerly returned.

Without breaking the kiss, you got off your knees, cradling the back of Thranduils neck with one of your hands. You kicked off your boots, accidentally sending one flying across the room but you didn't care. "a nap sounds good, yeah" you muttered against his lips as you carefully push him back onto the bed, climbing on top of him to continue the kiss.

Thranduil couldn't help but chuckle, pulling back from your lips just enough to talk. "My love, this is not napping ~" he didn't really mind as you continued to pamper him with kisses, his delicate hands reaching up to gently tangle themselves in your hair.

"mm we'll nap after, then"

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Can I request some sort of smut with Prince Regent!Aemond? I can't get him out of my head!!!! I see him being so mean and intimidating on the Iron Throne, like he wouldn't wear the eye patch bc he knows he looks "scary" to everyone in the court without it...except his little wife doesn't find him scary. His sweet wife is willing to fulfill his every need, no matter what that is, and is a good girl for him when he fucks her roughly, and it ends up melting his cold heart. Just a thought 😮‍💨

please the heinous bitch I'll become when Aemond takes this role on, lord forgive me. this is brilliant, thanks for sending in the ask boo xx

hope you love it!

Dearest, Ruthless Husband

PAIRING: Prince Regent!Aemond Targaryen x fem!Wife!Reader

WORDS: 2,432.

WARNINGS: swearing, mentions of cruel!Aemond, degradation kink, p in v sexual intercourse (consensual), oral male receiving, mentions of breeding kink.

A/N - writing this got me so hyped for Prince Regent Aemond!!! I hope you all enjoy, the smut is a little different to what I normally write or go about it, but sue me. Intrusive thoughts won!!!!

The Dance of the Dragons as most maesters and commoners of King's Landing had dubbed the unfolding family feud within House Targaryen, was beginning to simmer and churn. Brutal words exchanged, promises unkept and broken, and battles ruthlessly fought, both sides began to earn their gains, and yet also face immense losses. The most recent, left the Usurper King Aegon, burnt and beyond repair. The King had succumbed to his bed chambers, in the endless care of maesters, tending to his wounds as he remained unconscious from milk of the poppy. Although the realm staggered on, it needed to be assigned someone to represent the sovereign himself, and no other candidate stood out, other than your royal husband, Prince Regent, Aemond Targaryen.

Before the war had torn through the Seven Kingdoms, you had been betrothed to the young Prince. Paramount in securing an alliance on behalf of the Crown, you had grown doubtful that the marriage would remain fruitful, weary that Aemond merely saw you more as an obligation than an actual human being. Much to your surprise and in favour of the Gods, the Targaryen prince, took a key interest in you, as you gradually began to spend more and more time immersed in each other's sole company. Till proof had been cemented when he meekly admitted his love for you.

"It will be undying, this union, bound to me forever, my love. You will never no of hate nor harm, that I can promise you, my wife to be."

And although, Aemond had always been more of a withdrawn, private man since your first acquaintance, the longer this war prolonged, the more it seemed to have hardened his exterior. The man you'd once soulfully cherished and dreamt of now absent, replaced by a strange clone, the warmth buried inside seemed to have gone out like a candle in the wind.

He did no harm towards you, although, you scarcely saw him. Occasionally, he'd accompany you to dinner, only to be torn away from you, more prominent, urgent matters to attend that broke in the dead hour of the night. The bed had grown lonesome, and you struggled to sleep without his comforting presence and familiar body warmth. Regardless, your safety was still a priority, he made certain that you were around, in his vicinity.

****

Nowadays, you often found your husband seated firmly atop the Iron Throne, speaking and acting on behalf of his elder brother, the King. Many a times, he'd often privately disclosed of how he'd envisioned himself instead, given the miraculous chance, he sternly believed he'd be the better choice, "I'm far more suited than the likes of him." And yet, now that his treasonous wish had been granted, the circumstances unfortunate, he did not feel as willing for it. Eager to uphold duty nonetheless, you knew, however, that Aemond loved his family immensely, this including Aegon. They grew together, trained together and fought together. Yet he only now, fully understood the burden in which the crown wielded.

Today was no less different.

Entering the throne room, crowded by those who'd sworn allegiance unto King Aegon the Second, and those in chains, forced upon their knees, for those who had instead sworn fealty to Rhaenyra only to be captured. Aemond coldly observed them from above, the ferocity of the throne, its sharp, steel blades exemplified by his exposed sapphire eye. Since your beloved husband was publicly anointed as Prince Regent, he had taken to the habit of unveiling his lost eye, no longer bearing the notorious eye patch that modestly covered his ailment. He never hid it out of shame, though rather sympathetically as means to not frighten the maidens of the court. Yet the spoils of war had unleashed a crueler side to Aemond, one that you did not sense of its existence, though neither grew fearful of.

"Sided with the false Queen, my elder sister, Rhaenyra Targaryen, you have committed the highest form of treason against the Crown... Cowards and traitors, you shall all face the wroth of the Dragons through me... I do not see it fit to send you all to the Wall, no that would be mercy...Death to the whole lot of you."

His words sent a cold chill through your body, shuddering against his low, unwavering tone. Aemond had always spoken with a steadiness, and that remained unchanged. You could not deny that seeing such a formidable side of Aemond, unlike before, was invigorating. In the haste moments that you were caught in your own bewildered thoughts, with a sway of his hand swatting for the guards to remove said traitors, the out-roar of prisoners begging and pleading before their Prince Regent and the rattling of their heavy chains as they'd been forcefully led away was a chilling memory. After the final few had left to the dungeons below, you'd caught sight of Aemond staring right at you. Mindlessly, a faint smile fell upon your gentle face, and in a few seconds to come, Aemond demanded that all vacate the room, except for you. As the others departed, you walked in the opposing way, strolling closer and closer to where your husband remained comfortably seated, coming to a halt before the stony steps.

Upon hearing the final closing of the main, oak doors, an eerie silence fell upon the void of the room. Aemond's eye turned from the shut doors back down unto your feeble state below, the height and distance made you look smaller, more miniscule.

"You dare to taunt me with that smile, woman? Your presence during court already weakens me so."

"I merely wish to see my husband in all his glory, for it feels like a lifetime that I have not been blessed in his company. If needs be that I must seek you out myself, then so be it."

"Hmm."

Just as you'd taken the first step up, Aemond commanded for you to stop. Caught mid-way, you were startled by his objection as he often never resisted you.

"You think you can go unpunished just like that, do as you please and walk yourself right up here. Simply because you're my little whore?"

You were mildly perplexed by his minor outburst, although with the sly grin strewed across his face and the low deep chuckle he provoked from his own amusement, you knew he was simply taunting you. And yet, being Prince Regent, you had no choice but to obey.

"On all fours woman, I want to see you crawl to me, like the bitch that you are."

Hesitant at first, the burning glare from your husband's end though convinced you otherwise. Now on all fours, you slowly began to mechanic your way up to him, feeling Aemond's grin seething into the tender skin of your back, straight through your gown. Did this amuse him, seeing you grabble for him on the grimy, ancient floor, practically yielding to his every word.

Now at his feet, you remained on your knees, sore palms resting on your thighs, you looked up at him eagerly, a soft smile upon your face. If he thought he could taunt or debase you, he should reconsider.

"Satisfied yet, my dearest?" You meekly interject, your smile growing brighter.

"Not yet. Have you any bright ideas, wife, or must I command you like a hound?"

Although his voice stern, the sly grin remained faintly embedded across his face, and eyebrow perked, eager for your response. Yet your remained endearing, a lustful look across your face, as your hands began to gently make there way up his lean thighs.

"You have worked so tirelessly for the realm, and yet your wife remains lonesome, in her own company. From time to time, my husband is too busy fulfilling the duties of the realm, he seems to have forgotten his duty to his wife. Leaving me to touch myself so desperately... I suppose, I must remind him."

Now your hands reached the buttons of his trousers, Aemond bucks his hips forward, as you undo them, pulling them and his under garments just low enough, that his bare cock strings out. Already glistening at its tip, the sight always left you dumbfounded. His length was greater than average, and veiny, you could sense its palpating throbs against the soft palms of your hands, as you began to stroke its firm state.

"Already hard for me, my Prince. Have you missed me so?"

His pre-cum already spilling from the pinkish tip, you'd noticed the more fasten your pace grew, the firmer his grip tightened on the metal arm rests of the throne. His once-steady breathing now heavier.

"Fuck Y/N. Don't keep me waiting."

A sweet giggle escaped your lips, as his eye and the sapphire gem remained fixated on your kneeling frame below his knees. Soon enough, still massaging his hardening cock, you ease yourself between his thighs, spreading his legs out wider for you to adjust yourself. His wish, his command, you brought your mouth to his cock, in the same, sensual pace, sucking at his cock, feeling the throbs and familiar taste in your mouth.

"Seven fucking Hells," He breathlessly huffed, his chest now heaving against your slow, engulfing motions.

It was undeniable that the tip of his cock was stiffly hitting the back of your throat, regardless of how often this act was done in the privacy of your shared chambers, his length was one you could never quite adjust to, often gagging at it, although now you'd grown familiar to manoeuvre and angle it accordingly.

"That tight, pretty mouth of yours, oh, how I've missed it."

It had been a while since Aemond and yourself had shared these intimate moments only lawful between a man and his woman, since the uprising of the war. The Gods were now charitable, for both your favours were being met.

"Mmm. F-Fuck I'm close, Princess. Straightened up."

The thudding of his hard, long cock you could feel had grown tenser. Pulling out, caused a visceral reaction from him, as you once more, obeyed his command, straightening your posture enough, that the cleavage of your breasts was the main attraction between his thighs. Immediately, he hastily spilled his warm seed over your breasts, causing a mess all over you, some of his wetness had seeped in between the cleavage, whilst the rest glistened against your soft skin, before pooling down, drenching your garments.

"A masterpiece if I ever saw one," He chuckled, as his thumb tenderly wiped away at the remnants lingering over the corner of your moist lips.

"Aemond, I need you dearest," You sulkily yearned, a hand clutching to your clothed cunt, feeling yourself beginning to grow avid, as a long, familiar feeling brew between your thighs.

"Up- Come, my dearest-" His hand smacked against his thigh, as the other held your hand in is lifting you up, guiding you to ease yourself down over him: hastily pulling your layered gown up and tearing your undergarments into two, his firm cock easily finding its way inside of you.

Muffled moans helplessly tore through you, once again, the neediness for your husband's cock, and the long-awaited wait, stimulating you enough. His wetness that coated him, helped to ease himself plunging in, now adjusted, your hips beginning to sway forwards and back over his strong lap, his rough hands held you firmly by the waist, steadying you over him.

"I ought to fuck you senseless, leave you satisfied enough for until the next time I return from battle. Perhaps I ought to fuck a babe into you, my dearest."

Still childless, it was all bad-timing for only a few months after your wedding, the war broke out and Aemond was caught in the haste of it all. He scarcely had time to bed you, although now that his family numbers were dwindling, it seemed a babe was of great importance, an heir for the Prince Regent.

"Y-Yes, Aem- I want your child."

"Your wish is my command, wife. I shall see you swell greatly with child, as many sons and daughters as I see fit."

Earning more helpless cries and screams for your husband, the room echoed with your pleas and Aemond's heavy breathing. You were certain the guards posted outside, would know of the events unfolding from within, and yet no shame. For they'd have to answer to Aemond, and that itself, was a threat.

"Fill this pretty cunt of yours, this cunt that belongs to me. I shall keep you full, as need be."

"A-As you desire, m-my Prince-"

One of Aemond's hands remained supporting your lumbar, snaking its way behind, and the other found its way to your scalp, tugging and pulling at your hair, as your head rocked back in tune to his aggressive motions. Words no longer comprehensible to exchange, Aemond's lips found themselves occupied, lapping and suckling at the sensitive crook of your neck, leaving harsh, red marks across your skin.

"Finish me, Aem. I-I need you to fill me-"

The excitement that had brewed in anticipation for this monumental moment, had finally met its need. Your sweet, hot cum pooled over his sturdy, long cock inside, pooling beneath your gown, and in response, evoked the same pleasurable reaction from your husband. Feeling his hot seed once more, shooting itself inside, coating your walls. You felt certain a child was procreated in that precise moments, though regardless, would pray to the Gods to grant you the chance to bear a healthy babe.

Huffing and puffing, hot, perspiring skin against each other, resting your foreheads against one another, almost in sync, you both exchanged faint, genuine laughter.

"I-I have missed you my dearest. It pains me so, to be away from you so often and for so long. I cherish these moments with you, even catching you lingering in the shadows, watching me."

His sweet words warmed your meek heart, and you knew that your husband was apologetic in some sense, even if he struggled to admit it.

"I know my love, but soon enough, a war always comes to an end. Just be sure, I have you returned to me in one piece, and at my beckon call."

A deep, low chucked echoed from deep inside him, as he bashfully looked down, before returning his sole gaze unto you, your fingers toying with long strands of his platinum hair.

"Even if the Gods have other plans, I will defy them for you, always. I promise to return to you, and if the Mother is willing, a babe in your arms. I love you."

general taglist - @evenstaris @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @ilikeitbetterangsty @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @randomdragonfires

Aemond taglist - @godrakin @megatardisbaby @harrypotteranna23-blog

[celtigxr]

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 31 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: All gather in the Throne Room to hear Ser Vaemond Velaryon's petition. Never a dull day at the Red Keep. Word Count: 6874 CHAPTER WARNINGS: Show canon scene. Violence, gore, slut-shaming/misogyny, bit of angst, canon death, fat-shaming/fatphobia, bullying mention, depression/mental health mention. Lots of fun things.

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: I'm BAAACCKK. Hope everyone had happy holidays and a great new year. Mine was adequate, nothing to report other than get a lil annoyed at the bf. But that was overshadowed by a band I listen to dming a happy new years. I won't say who, because I'm trying to manifest something rn, and I don't want to jinx it. but hint: 😴🚶🐕🐈 Now, this chapter still is around the time I was really struggling to write. Re reading it, it's not entirely as bad as I thought it was, but you might be able to tell where I was getting frustrated and losing my muse. Or not, idk, maybe I hid it well.

There was nothing more intimidating than the Iron Throne when it sat unoccupied. It was almost like the ghost of Aegon the Conqueror still lingered there when the current king did not, watching and judging his dynasty before him. Valeana wondered if this is what he imagined for his line of Fire and Blood; had he predicted his grandchildren, and great grandchildren to fight amongst themselves? Did he predict that his heir to be a woman, where a son with his name stood idly by? Did he predict that his legacy would be put into question?

Valeana also wondered if Targaryens would have ended up this way, had it been Visenya’s line that survived, and not her sister’s. Perhaps their people would not see them as weak, as they once thought of King Aenys.

“Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds,” The Lord Hand spoke after the King had descended upon his throne of iron and war. “We gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark.”

His words were not appreciated by those that suffered for this petition. Valeana stood by her family, who stood behind Alicent and her children. The Throne Room was not at full capacity, but the Lords of the Great Houses had gathered, some with their wives, some with their heirs. The Baratheons, the Starks, the Hightowers, The Arryns, the Lannisters, the Tyrells, the Tullys, the Greyjoys, even representatives from the Martells were present. The Realm knew what this moment meant – It was not just a petition over who would inherit Driftmark, it was a petition to prove or disprove that Rhaenyra’s three eldest were illegitimate. Bastards. It would not only take away Lucerys’ inheritance, but Jacaerys' and Joffrey’s. If that happened, the Realm may very want Rhaenyra to be removed as heir to the Throne as punishment for her carnal transgressions, and effectively move the line of succession onto Aegon the Elder, bypassing even her legitimate fair-haired sons she sired with Daemon. 

“The crown will now hear the petitions: Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon,” Otto stepped away, and all in the room watched with bated breath as Vaemond moved from the spot he stood next to his uncle’s wife and grandchildren and took his place at the foot of the dias. 

“My King,” he bowed, then looked upon Alicent and Otto. “My Queen, my Lord Hand.” His eyes return to Viserys, whose face was already set in stone, his lips thinned and already showing his disapproval. Alas, Vaemond’s confidence was bordering on delusion, and did not let that deter him in the slightest. Valeana took a step forward, putting herself just behind the backs of Aemond and Aegon, so she could have a better look. 

Aemond slightly turned to her, a silent look that communicated everything. He could not yet show his affections publicly – he had not taken the time to converse with Maris just yet to end their very public courtship (even if it had grown apparent that it was dwindling). Aegon, however, took pleasure in taking advantage of that fact, for when Valeana appeared at his side, he wove his arm around hers and laced her fingers with his own. 

Valeana wasn’t entirely sure what horror show she should dare to look at: Vaemond’s petition, Aemond’s fury, or her brother and father’s heated disapproval behind her. 

“The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria,” Vaemond began his speech, hands clasped in front of him as he not only spoke to his monarch, but to the audience, to the lords and ladies of Westeros. “For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas.” 

Not entirely true, Valeana mused. House Celtigar and House Velaryon ruled ceremoniously, while the latter was more naval and militant, the former was more in trade and piracy. Though that last bit was more of an unsavoury historical anecdote that her father will never acknowledge. 

“When the Doom fell on Valyria, House Targaryen, House Velaryon and House Celtigar became the last of their kind. Our forebears came to this land knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name

“I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my uncle’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’ closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins–”

“As it does in my sons, the offspring of Leanor Velaryon,” Rhaenyra spoke up, interrupting the knight without remorse. Her face was remarkably neutral despite the bite of her words, reminding everyone in the grand room of her sons’ birthrights. With eyes trained onto the floor ahead of her, she went on, “If you cared so much about your house’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir.” She said this now looking at him directly, and Valeana could only watch, enraptured and captivated by her strength and conviction. “No, you only speak for yourself, and for your own ambition.” 

“You have a chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra,” Otto interrupted, overlapping the princess’ words. “Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard.”

King Viserys was rubbing his eyelids, already tired and weary. Valeana watched his face carefully as Vaemond continued his speech, claiming that Rhaenyra did not know a thing about Velaryon blood. Eyes darted around the room, as she watched Jacaerys catch Aemond’s eye, and Lucerys watched Vaemond with contempt. Daeron looked impossibly uncomfortable, eyes flickering around to everyone to gouge how he should react. And Aegon… Aegon simply shuffled in his spot, free hand moving to scratch his jaw. 

“This is bloody torture,” she heard him whisper. The only thing she could do was give his hand a squeeze in response and he gently squeezed back, rubbing his thumb over the back of her palm. 

When it was Rhaenyra’s turn to petition, her words were cut short when the King placed up his hand to halt her. 

“I must admit my confusion,” his words were laced with exhaustion, but with an underlying strength of a king. He had been patient, polite and courteous as he allowed Ser Vaemond to speak, since he did come all this way to do so. But now it was his turn, and he intended to speak on behalf of his daughter and Lord Corlys, the latter of which could not speak on his own behalf. “On why petitions are being heard over a settled succession.”

His statement was met with a second of strained silence before he continued, moving his head around the crowd before settling on his cousin. “The only one present who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys’ wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.” 

“Indeed, your grace,” The Queen Who Never Was spoke once everyone had settled their attention onto her. Her eyes flickered from Vaemond to Rhaenyra, then she moved over to place herself at the foot of the dias, before the Throne that in another life, would have been hers. 

“It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Leanor, to his trueborn son… Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed, nor did my support of him.” 

Rhaenys’ confession garnered a group reaction of surprise. It was under the assumption that the older princess had always disapproved of Rhaenyra the moment each son she birthed looked nothing like hers, and the circumstances of Leanor’s death seemed to put a rift between the like-minded princesses. Though it now seemed that bygones had become bygones. 

“As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire for her son, Luke, to marry Lord Corlys’ granddaughter, Rhaena… A proposal to which I heartily agree.” 

Hushed chatter befell the Throne Room. Rhaena and Luke shared a look with each other, subtle smiles upon their youthful places. This development certainly put a wedge in Ser Vaemond’s petition. He cried about blood purity, and yet here the solution laid plainly in front of the Kingdom. For those who believed that Luke was a bastard, the seat of Driftmark would no longer belong to the Velaryons in name only. Rhaena held that blood from her mother, and what's more, their children would be dragonriders, with their matching Targaryen blood between them. 

Valeana was quick to notice Vaemond’s displeasure and shock. 

“Well…” Viserys lifted his hand dismissively, “The matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.”

Just when people believed matters were settled, and the chatter started up again, Vaemond stepped forward after Rhaenys stepped back. “You break law and centuries of tradition, to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon–No,” he shook his head minutely. “I will not allow it.”

The King furrowed his brow, mouth popping open at the man’s gall. “Allow it? Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

This is where things had taken a turn for the worst. When Vaemond shook with anger, Valeana knew that all sense was lost. At the shout of “That!”, she startled next to the princes. Aegon turned to her slightly amused, and Aemond had moved closer to her until their shoulders touched. 

Vaemond pointed viciously at Lucerys, who surprisingly shrunk under the angered man. “Is no true Velaryon, and certainly, no cousin of mine.”

“Go to your chambers,” Rhaenyra whipped her head to her son, who also vibrated with emotion, lip curling over his teeth as if he wished to lash out on his own behalf. Then she turned to Vaemond, “You have said enough.”

Lucerys didn’t move, but his step father still kept a hand on his shoulder. 

“Lucerys is my trueborn grandson,” The King spoke lowly. “And you are no more than the son of the second son of Driftmark.”

“You may run your house as you see fit,” Vaemond bit back. Valeana held her breath, finding herself squeezing Aegon’s hand. “But you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom, and a thousand tribulations besides. And gods be damned,” He swiveled back around to glare at the boy again, as if he were the reason for all his troubles, and not the adults that surrounded him. “I will not see it ended on the account of this–” His lips folded in between his teeth, and the air in the room stilled. Then as the slow seconds went by, Vaemond’s face relaxed, as if he could lose no more than he already had.

“Her children… are BASTARDS!”

“Seven Hells,” Valeana breathed out. The entire room was filled with loud murmurs, the King himself leaned forward on the Throne, his anger building in his chest, as weak as it was. 

“Oh, this is turning out to be quite the show,” Aegon whispered, his words laced with mirth.

A horror show. 

A very horrific, bloody show. 

“And she is,” Vaemond continued, punctuating every word as he burned his eyes onto Rhaenyra, then Daemon, and then finally the King. “A whore.”

The chorus of gasps filled the Throne Room. Everyone paced around, looking at each other in disbelief. Valeana glanced up at Aemond and saw his smirk, no different to Aegon’s. She knew of the princes’ animosity towards their half sister, who coveted all their father’s love, but as a woman, she could not help but feel disgusted by their reactions. With one glance of Helaena, she was relieved to see that she did not approve either, and when the two princes noticed their disapproval, their smirks dropped. At the very least Daeron had the decency to look scandalized, regardless of what his opinions were of Rhaenyra. 

The king ascended from his throne, his cane forgotten as he reached into his cloak and pulled out the cat’s claw dagger that was always strapped to him. 

“I will have your tongue for that–”

Valyrian steel sung in the air, swiftly and without mercy. The sound of blade cutting through flesh and bone dirtied Valeana’s ears, and the sight of Vaemond’s nearly headless body slumping on the floor now seared into her mind like a brand. Never before in her life had she seen such violence. Not even her fall down the stairs could compare. She had thought she would be impervious to such displays, having seen her own bone out of her flesh, and then watch her leg rot away before it was severed off with a saw. Though that was nothing in comparison to seeing a man’s head chopped off from his cheekbones, leaving his jaw and tongue atop what remained of his head. 

Helaena had turned away with her hands placed upon the sides of her head, her mother Alicent on her protectively to shield her from the gore. Daeron’s eyes widened in shock and horror, his hand flying to the sword on his belt as if it was muscle memory. Behind Valeana, Shyla and Floris both screamed, flying into the chest of Bartimos and their mother, with Clement shielding them from it. Arthor merely stood agape, the first time he, too, ever saw such an act. 

Valeana had jumped away, retching her hand out of Aegon’s in the pursuit to put herself as far away from the corpse as possible. It was Aemond who moved in front of her, hand upon her arm to keep her behind him, whilst Aegon stood like a statue, lips pulled into a frown and eyebrows up to his hairline, staring at Vaemond’s lifeless body as if he could not believe what he had just witnessed, what he was actively staring at. 

“He can keep his tongue,” Daemon stood there, hand placed on the pommel of Dark Sister. 

“Disarm him!” The Lord Hand shouted, the Kingsguard poised to attack.  

“No need,” the Rogue Prince replied casually, using the ends of his black tunic to wipe the blood off his sword and sheath it back into its scabbard.

Valeana tore her eyes away at last, blinking away rapidly, as if that would rid her of the image. It was then she brought her attention to where her hands had found rest. She gripped onto Aemond’s sleeve, both of her forearms caging his arm to her chest like a shield or a life preserver. 

“Valeana,” Clement’s presence loomed over her shoulder, his large hand firmly on her bicep. 

Valeana followed Aemond’s arm until she reached his face. He stared at her with a wide eye and a gritted jaw. His fingers flexed at her own sleeve, not wanting to let go either, but they were not in the privacy of their library. It took all her courage to let him go from her vice and allow Clement to pull her into his orbit. 

But when Valeana tore her eyes from Aemond, she landed them on Aegon, who saw the whole thing. His face was crestfallen, but only for a moment before his features pulled into a scowl, eyes glaring up at his younger brother. 

The petition had inevitably delayed the anticipated dinner of the Valyrian Houses, of which Vaemond had been invited to, mostly out of respect. It would be pushed to the next evening, as everyone was collectively in a state of shock and displacement. 

Valeana longed for solitude, she wished to be tucked in the reading nook of the late Aemma Arryn’s library, or laying in a nest of cushions and furs on the secret platform amongst the cliffs. Though for now, she settled on her bed chambers. Shyla was absent, she seemed to disappear after the Throne Room, along with Daeron it seemed. She was particularly distressed and the prince was concerned for her, leaving poor young Floris in the wind. Gods, Borros Baratheon is going to absolutely loathe the Celtigars after this Conclave was over with. 

Valeana was sitting cross legged in the middle of her bed, embroidering an image of a milkweed plant on a dark grey canvas. She intended to give the loop to Helaena as a thank you for her part last night. It was still such a bizarre recollection, that now felt like it was eons ago. Seeing a man’s head lopped off from the middle would do that to someone. 

Still, she wove every memory she made that night into the fabric of her mind. From the moment she saw Aemond splayed on the chair at the table, to that very morning when the warm orange glow of the dawn reflected against the silver tresses of his hair and pearlescent complexion of his skin. Valeana had woken up before him, and she took that privilege gently, savouring every moment. 

Aemond had tucked her under his arm at some point, and she was nestled on his upper arm, hand slayed on his chest while his nose nestled in the crown of her hair. They were both lying on their sides, legs tangled with each other, his hand resting on her hip and thigh. With gentle fingers, she traced the lines of his jaw, his nose, his scar, the gnarl frame of his sapphire eye, and brow, and then his lips that were parted as he breathed gently. Valeana noted how the skin around his perfect lid was red, the corner had a little sandy crust as if his eye had been tearing up during the night. 

With boldness, her hands moved southward, running along the muscles of his chest and stomach, humming in satisfaction at the warmth and feel of his body. It was art, truly; every ridge and curve, every bone and muscle, expertly carved by the Smith himself, designed in the likeness of the Warrior. 

Aemond roused from his sleep when her fingers trailed over the area below his belly button. He blinked away the sand from his good eye and gave a soft, grumbly hum. 

“Still not convinced I am a man?” He questioned softly with a hoarse, sleepy tone before his hand moved to her wrist and guided her to the crotch of his breeches. Valeana gave a soft gasp, or more of a hitch in her throat. She could feel him through the fabric and while he was soft, the muscle twitched at the contact. 

“Aemond–” He interrupted her with a peck on her lips, moving his hand up to the curve of her jaw to keep her there, so he could stare into her eyes. And that is where they remained until there was a knock on the library door, and Helaena’s gentle voice reminded them it was time. 

Valeana sighed contently down at her embroidery. Basking in the perfect evening and the perfect morning was enough to drown out the macabre events of that midday. Now the image of Aemond’s hardened body and Aegon’s thick cock permated her mind, creating a warm stir in her core. Alas, she was still bleeding, and she was not going to risk getting blood under her fingernails and all over her sheets to satiate her carnal hunger. Besides, there was a knock on the door, effectively ending her lewd thoughts. Clearing her throat, she called out: “come in.”

Clement entered the room, closing the door behind him as he did, “How are you doing?”

She offered him a half shrug, “Fine, I suppose.” 

Her brother took a seat at the edge of her bed, his body twisted so he rested his knee on the mattress, where he could look at her properly. “You’re doing remarkably well for someone who just witnessed their first execution.” 

“I do well with gore, I suppose. Finding severed feet on the beach on a regular basis could desensitize you to it,” her jest came out awfully stoic, as if she was serious. Though Valeana tended to joke when she was on the verge of anxiousness or sadness, if she wasn’t already thrown into the maelstrom of a fit. 

“And watching yours decay whilst attached to your body,” Clement added, his dark humour similar to her own. 

“Hm, that too. Perhaps the Stranger’s mark on me still lingers.” 

He hummed in agreement, unserious in his consideration for the statement. But then his face fell, and Valeana geared herself up for the real reason why he was there in her room. 

“Valeana…” He looked down on the bed, where his hand laid flat. He drummed his fingers on the duvet, like he was stalling so he could find the right words, or to rein in his censure. “I feel like you have become a stranger since we arrived at King’s Landing. You have been pulling yourself away every day from our family…and I can’t help but believe it is because of the princes.” 

Valeana leaned back into her headboard with a sigh, her loop forgotten in her lap. “Clement, I have been a stranger to this family for years…” Her eyes drifted over to the balcony. The Hydrangeas that Aemond left her were now placed in a vase next to her bed. 

“Not to me,” he shook his head vehemently. “We are full blooded siblings, Valeana. You and I have a bond that cannot be separated.”

Val tilted her head at him, a single eyebrow raised, “Clement, for half my life we were separated. I was here, and you were on the Isle with Ursula and Arthor. I am twenty, and yet I’ve only ever spent half my life with you, brother, and during that time I spent the better part of it locked in my rooms, despondent and longing for death.” 

Clement let his head sag at that, then raked his fingers through his short silver hair. He did not like dwelling on that dark part of her past, it still made him feel like a failure of a brother that he was not there for her when it happened, nor was he able to coax her out of the abyss in the aftermath. He reached out then, placing a hand on the ankle of her prosthetic, and although physically she could not feel it, the phantom of his touch tickled in the back of her mind as if she could. 

“You are the closest thing I have to mother, you know,” he said quietly, thumb moving along the ball joint. “I might have lost her, but I gained a sister in her stead, in her very image. I vowed over her grave that I would protect you, and I have failed thus far… I do not wish to continue that path any longer.”

When Valeana felt her eyes begin to water, she shut them immediately and bowed her head till her chin laid on her sternum, “Clement–”

“I saw you,” he said a bit forcefully. “You held Aegon’s hand one moment, and then clung to Aemond the next. Whatever it is you are doing, you must know it will end in heartbreak. Please, for your sake, sister, let them go… Jacaerys is an honourable man, who can offer you a great future–”

“I do not love him,” the words came out before she was able to filter them. 

Clement furrowed his brow as he tilted his head at her disbelievingly, “Then who is it you love? Aemond the Blackhearted or Aegon the Whoremongerer?” 

Sorrow was quickly being pulled into frustration. Valeana shook her head, “You only know the princes by their reputation, you do not know their character, the way they are with me–”

Clement pulled away, scoffing loudly, “I know Aemond is the cause of your first heartbreak, the reason why you walk with a wooden leg, and I know Aegon is the cause of your self hatred and the reason why you hide yourself from the world. This is all I need to know… So excuse me if I cannot fathom why you wish to consort with either of them, let alone harbour feelings.”

Valeana took a steady breath through her lips, her eyes closed to ground herself in the darkness behind her lids. “They have both reconciled with me.”

“Oh, they have, have they? When will they seek out father’s forgiveness then?” His question took her off guard. “Father was just as hurt as you were. He ended his friendship with the King over it… let go of his position on the Small Council, and left King’s Landing. Do not think you are the only victim here, sister.” 

“Please leave, Clement,” she ran her fingers over her eyes, where a headache was starting to bloom.

“I will not. I am not going to let you ignore the truth, Valeana… You have been causing an immense amount of stress on not only Ursula and father, but our sisters and brother as well. Everything has been revolving around your scandals, your love life, and it has put poor Shyla and Floris on the backburner. Floris, the poor thing, weeps at not being married still at her age. How do you think she feels seeing her step sister being the centre of attention? To have this many men flock to you and not her?”

“Floris,” she nearly yelled her name. “Floris is the reason why people whisper about me! Her insecurities are not my bloody problem, Clement! She could have been married off years ago, but she lets her pride and narcissism get in the way of it.

“She envies me, that is the truth of it. It’s always been like that – do you even notice the comments she makes of me? Floris is just as terrible as Aegon, Jacaerys and Lucerys was to me, even worse because we are family! It has been like that my entire fucking life with that woman… And you, father, mother, Arthor, and Shyla choose to ignore her belittling comments about my figure, because of what, Clement? Because you do not wish to cause strife among family? To choose sides? Or is it because you all believe her? You all agree I’m too fucking fat, but unlike Floris you keep your opinion behind your buttoned lips and avoidant eyes?”

Valeana did not give him room to respond, if he had any intention to, if he had any strength to. She pulled herself from her bed, embroidery loop forgotten, and slipped her feet into her shoes. Then, she bent down and secured the shoe’s strap around her wooden ankle, mindful to not run off on insecure shoes like last time.

“Where are you going?” 

“Since you refuse to leave, I will,” she marches over the door, and pulls it open with a violet jerk. 

“And which prince will you flock to?” He is standing up now, looking at her retreating back.

She paused in the threshold, her hand flexing on the handle of the door. “Neither,” she replied flatly, then slammed the door on him. 

When Valeana left her family’s wing, she had spotted Ellyn and Wylla walking in the gardens arm in arm from the loggia above. She fled to find some corner of the Keep for solitude, but when she saw them, she craved friendship more. They were whispering about something, giving each other looks that Valeana could not quite make out from where she stood. When she called out for them, they looked up, completely startled. Their bodies pulled away from each other as if they were caught committing a crime. 

Valeana tried not to think too much about it, especially since her thoughts were already at full capacity. Though as they sat in the grass, underneath a cherry blossom tree, away from courtiers and servants, Valeana couldn’t help but feel suddenly paranoid. The two were sharing looks with each other that she could not decipher, and she couldn’t help but wonder if they had been talking about her. 

Eyeing them warily, she decided to test the waters, “You two seem quiet.”

They looked at her slightly surprised, with Ellyn the first to speak, “Sorry… That nasty business in the Throne Room, it… it was just not expected.”

Wylla hummed in agreement, “I’ve seen a few executions, done by my father… Never seen anything so savage, however.” 

Valeana nodded, still unconvinced. Did they see her cling to Aemond after it happened? It was possible, though she was behind the Targaryen princes at the time, and she was fairly certain that people were more preoccupied by Ser Vaemond’s scalp rolling around the floor. 

Narrowing her eyes, she decided to press further, a little more boldly, “Are there any more whispers about me?” At their collective confusion, she added, “Only because you two seem quieter than usual, and I’m starting to wonder if you’ve learned something unsavoury that I should be concerned about.” 

Ellyn’s cheeks went pink, her eyes darting from Wylla, to the grass she was picking and peeling. They both shook their heads and cleared their throats. 

This time, Wylla answered, seeming genuine.  “No, nothing new. Only that bets have been challenged now that Jacaerys is in the running for your hand.”

Valeana rolled her eyes, “He isn’t. It was simply a brief moment in order to appease our parents.”

Ellyn raised an eyebrow mockingly, “So there we are back to two princes?”

Wylla tilted her head, “Or just one? I saw you and Aegon holding hands in the Throne Room.” 

“Is that all you saw?” They both looked genuinely confused. It was a bit of a relief, at least she knew they weren’t gossiping about her clinging to both Aegon and Aemond so publicly and judging her for it. As of right now, Aemond and hers reconciliation was not public knowledge; as far as the court is concerned, he was still courting Maris, and it was only the whispers that breathed life into the rumour of him yearning for Valeana. It was…  true, and well observed, but Valeana knew better to encourage the truth. Aemond needed to gently rid himself of Maris Baratheon, now more than ever. Having noticed how Shyla was slowly usurping Daeron Targaryen from Floris Baratheon, the tensions between Celtigars and Baratheons were becoming very tense, and it did not bode well for Valean’a own precarious circumstance.

Wylla’s eyes narrowed, “What else was there to see, Valeana?”

Val’s eyes flickered to Ellyn, who stared at her expectedly. She trusted this Baratheon with her past with Aemond, her feelings for him, but she did not know Ellyn’s relationship with her sisters very well. Did she approve of Maris’ match with him, or merely tolerated it? Would she choose Valeana or her sister? And the issue with young Floris and Shyla was a whole other added problem. The last thing Val wanted was to put Ellyn in a position of choosing between friendship and family. 

After kneading her lip with her teeth in thought, Valeana tentatively asked: “Ellyn… Is Maris… quite fond of Aemond?”

Ellyn seemed quite taken back by the question, but otherwise she appeared almost like she was harbouring knowledge she had yet to share. With a great sigh, the brunette nodded remorsefully, “She is. I’ve never seen her quite smitten but… She seems a bit agitated lately. Ever since the Hightower dinner, which…I know you’ve told me about. Maris has given me her own version of it, as did Daeron when he visited Floris one afternoon. My sister was quite affronted. Her intelligence is her biggest pride.”

“So suffice to say she isn’t my biggest fan.”

Ellyn huffed a soft laugh, “An understatement really. Um, she has also noticed… Aemond has become distant with her, and she has deduced it may be your doing. From what I overheard from her and Cassandra yesterday, your step-sister has been insinuating that you’ve been trying to seduce him.” 

Valeana sighed, rubbing the spot between her eyebrow and nose, “Of course she’s doing that. I somehow wonder if my beloved step sister has a plan, or she is simply lying freely, trying to see what people will believe and if it will ruin my character.” 

“I am surprised you aren’t trying to seduce him,” Wylla admitted thoughtfully, regarding Ellyn’s statement, “Given what you’ve told us. Didn’t you want him back? Or…has Prince Aegon snuffed that flame?” 

Valeana has done nothing but disprove the whispers about her and Aegon, particularly after the Hightower dinner when they publicized their (fake) courtship just to make Aemond jealous. It worked, though faster than she anticipated, and now she gathered how confused her two new friends probably were, given how much she had not shared with them since their last conversation about Val’s lovelife. The context between that drunken night to the present had not been divulged to them, and that was not just because she simply hadn’t the opportunity, but because she wasn’t accustomed to sharing vulnerable secrets. Valeana never actually had friends she could trust, she painfully realized; not since Aemond, and look how that turned out. 

She glanced around them, making sure they were very much alone. They had trailed far from the path, hidden in the grassy knolls, underneath the cherry blossom tree, surrounded by hydrangea bushes of various colours. The bushes and florals do a good job at muffling their voices as well as the noises of the world outside of their little sanctuary.

Licking her dry lips, Valeana geared herself to confess her sins, hoping that they would not judge her too harshly for her weaknesses. Hoping that Ellyn would at most be impartial to Valeana’s hand at effectively ruining Maris’ chance at a royal betrothal. 

“There is much I should– no, need to tell you. So much has happened…I do not know where to begin.”

Ellyn reached out and patted her arm, “Start from the beginning then?” 

With a harrowing sigh, Valeana nodded and began her complicated, long tale. She tripped over her words and backtracked when she remembered information that added more context, but she recounted everything. From the moment Aemond pulled her drunken self out of the Throne room, to her eve spent with Aemond in Queen Aemma’s old quarters. Yes, she even told them of Aemond’s apology on Maiden’s Day eve. Valeana even admitted to Aemond ravishing her tits that drunken night in the passageways, the morning before the Hightower supper. Even told them about the night at the secret terrace with Aegon. She also mentioned how she lost her maidenhead to a bloody horse, which was her attempt at humour and alleviating the tense conversation. 

In the end, her fingers were pressed in the corners of her eyes, head bowed over her crossed legs in exhaustion. Her head felt dull and heavy from a steady headache, one that began with Clement earlier. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she confessed defeatedly. “This is all so new to me… All my life, I was prepared to either be a spinster, a septa, or a despondent wife to a lord that did not care for me. I never even entertained the idea that a man might… desire me at all, let alone two.” It was addicting, she admitted to herself. Selfishly she thought perhaps she could have them both, like Catelyn Redwyne’s story, but she knew that was impossible…Aemond and Aegon would never share her. They would spend the entire time trying to lay claim on her, like two opposing conquerors. 

Wylla’s hand patted her knee comfortingly, “Your life never ceases to amaze me, Valeana. Most women would kill to be in your position.”

“I am not one of those women,” Ellyn commented good naturedly. “Though I admit that it is a privilege to be fought over by two princes of the Realm.”

Valeana pulled her hands from her eyes and blinked tiredly at both of them, “What would you two do if you were in my position?”

“Choose neither and become a Septa,” Ellyn shrugged dismissively, but at Valeana’s pointed look, she sighed. “Honestly, I do not know. I suppose I would try to figure out who I could not live without.” 

Wylla nodded her agreement, “You will be spending the rest of your life with this man… I personally don’t think it is disgraceful to explore who you are compatible with, both emotionally and physically. Most of us do not get the leisure of testing the waters before we are thrown in.” 

Val nodded, because she had no choice but to agree. It still did nothing to ease her stresses, though. “The problem is that my decision will be at the expense of the other’s pain. And I do not wish to cause anyone pain… Not even your sister, Ellyn. Even if – and forgive me for saying so – even if she is a pretentious bitch.” 

Ellyn huffed, shaking her head, “Oh, do not worry, I don’t take offense to that. Maris loves to call me stupid whenever she gets a chance, so she deserves the insult.” Suddenly the brunette looked down at her hands for a moment, brow furrowed as if she was in a battle with her own thoughts. “I love my sisters, truly… I wish to see them contented. Though… I do not believe that the princes would ever give them the happiness they hope to have with them. I think Maris and our Floris both are blinded by their titles, of the little fairy tale of becoming princesses rather than actually understanding the gravity of it all.

“I saw immediately that Daeron is far too self-centered to care for my little sister truly, and she is far too meek to stand up for herself. He never asks questions about her, and if she does not ask questions about him, then there is no conversation to be had. As for Maris, well…she likes the idea of Aemond. Of someone who actually enjoys her mind, and shares academic conversations, but,” Ellyn lifted her shoulders in a shrug, “As far as I’m aware, they have not shared anything deeper. Though, I dare say, with all my sister’s intelligence, she isn’t particularly educated in matters of the heart. If it wasn’t Aemond, any man that showed an interest to her intellect and mind would be enough to convince her that they are in love with her.” 

“That does not make me feel any better, Ellyn,” Valeana picked at the grass too, covering her skirts with it. 

“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I’m trying poorly to convey something… What I mean is… Do not feel guilty about it. My sisters are not compatible with either Aemond or Daeron. Floris is young, beautiful, she will not suffer singledom long. However, I do worry about Maris, but not for reasons you think. Maris is not stable.” 

With a furrowed brow, Valeana peered at Ellyn carefully, “What do you mean?”

“She does not like being insulted, which you did, but she also sees Aemond's sudden distance from her as an insult too. Maris is calm most of the time but, when she feels like she has been aggrieved, or humiliated, she is… reactionary, for lack of a better word. And with your step sister’s ill counsel… I fear she plans on doing something explosive to get back at you. I just do not know what, or when, or if it’ll happen at all. I just know my sister… And since you are my friend, I only wish for you to be cautious. Perhaps do not make your affections for Aemond so obvious, until the sky is clear, until Maris cannot do anything.” 

Tentatively, Valeana gave a soft nod, “Thank you for telling me. Though now I have to deal with your sister on top of my own. Is there anyone else out there that is trying to sabotage me for reasons unknown, that I should be aware of?” She turned to Wylla, “Do you have a sister I do not know about that is plotting to kill me?”

Wylla softly laughed, “Gods, no. Well, I have a half sister. She is baseborn, but she is not here, anyway. Besides, we northerners have no interest in pretty white-haired princes with soft bellies or thin waists. We like our men towering, hairy, and smelling like a campfire.” 

Ellyn wrinkled her nose at that, but otherwise said nothing. 

Valeana hummed, lifting up her leg to rest her arm on her knee, “Your brother smells cedarwood and raw masculinity, which also smells a bit like roasted venison. It does things to me.”

“You still try to covet my brother even with two Targaryen princes at your beck and call?”

“Key word is try,” Valeana shook the grass from her skirt in exasperation. In total unseriousness, she continued, “Though he seems too preoccupied with Alysanne Blackwood, and I cannot compete with a woman who breaks horses and looks like she can kill a man with her thighs.” 

“And I am sure she has!” 

Their laughter pulled their outing to a lighter conversation about this or that, leaving the stress of courtships and family behind. Though despite the change, something dreadful settled in Valeana’s gut as Ellyn’s warning about Maris echoed in her mind like a bad omen. She couldn’t shake the feeling; it felt like she was an animal, sensing the impending doom of a large, disastrous storm. 

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO SNEAK PEAK Valeana flipped back over, only to see a shadow looming on the right side of the bed. Her heart leapt in her throat, momentarily gagging her as she jumped and gaped, a scream nearly escaping her lungs. His hand flew to her mouth.  “Shh, shh,” Aemond crouched down next to her bed, his grip over her mouth softening when he saw her shoulders cave. “It’s only me.” When he removed his hand from her mouth, she gave him a sharp whack on the shoulder, “Aemond, I swear to the old gods and the new, the next time you do that I’m going to throw you down a flight of stairs.” “Wouldn’t that be an interesting sight,” Said another, causing Valeana to jostle a second time. She and Aemond whirled their heads towards the door with wide and alarmed eyes. And there in the dim light she could make out the short wavy silver hair of Aegon. 

Notes: I hope that was worth the 2 week wait )x I still didn't do as much as I wanted in the last two weeks. Didn't realize how much I just needed to unplug during the holidays, what with work stress, among some other things and stuffs. Though the chapter I'm currently working on is nearly done. I just hope the one after doesn't take me just as long, otherwise I may need to do another two-week wait. Also I just wanted to point out...the amount of times I had to watch that Vaemond and dinner scene just to write this chapter, and the Fem!Aegon one shot was so absurd. It used to be my favourate episode, but now I can't even watch it again XD Anyway, once again, I hope everyone had good and safe holidays, <3

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel, @t0biasparabatai

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[arislary]

Brewing Chemistry (3/5) Han Jisung x (f) reader

Synopsis: Reader and Jisung feel the obvious connection coursing between them, but misunderstandings leave them on uneven ground. Reader begins to fall into old mindsets, struggling with the thought she ruined her one shot with Jisung. Will this end their connection before it can really begin?

Pairing: Han Jisung x (f) reader

Genre: fluff, eventual smut, strangers to lovers, coffee-shop au, non-idol au, meet-cute au

Warning: fluff, eventual smut, slight angst, slight dom/sub, slight Dom Jisung, slight Sub reader, cute nicknames, spit kink, makeouts, i lied about it being a slow-burn, moving too fast?, insecurity, sad Jisung, sad reader, jealous!Jisung, communication is key! bf!Felix, 3RACHA, alcohol use, drug use mentioned (stoner!reader) (let me know if I missed anything)

WC: 3.5k

AN: some more angst from reader as we navigate the aftermath of the first date, if there's one thing I hate it's misunderstandings, but ugh I love to write them! UNEDITED

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 1 -> Part 2 -> Part 3 -> Part 4 -> Part 5

It had been close to about two weeks since I had last seen Jisung. Two weeks since he came over to comfort me. Two weeks since he left me a quivering mess in my kitchen, sitting a puddle of my desire. Two weeks since he walked out of my apartment after staying up until 2 am, over cups of coffee, talking. I could still feel the warmth of his hand, the only contact we allowed ourselves after the kitchen- I don’t know what to call that honestly. I could feel the growing bubble of ‘what ifs’ already taking root inside me. I am dumb, so dumb.

I totally scared him off, way to play it cool, man! I pulled the scrunchy from my hair, letting the waves come down around my shoulders. I scrubbed a hand through my hair, groaning as I slumped forward, elbows resting on my knees.

I had been sitting in my living room, trying desperately not to think about Jisung. Or his hair. Or his eyes. Or his hands. Or his- 

Did I think we would start dating after that? 

DUH. Okay no, not really, but maybe at least something!

To be fair, we had received a new project at work that had me around the clock, night and day working and I genuinely struggled with texting back anyone, but it wasn’t like he was also asking me to hang out either! I grumbled, looking down at my phone again to the still ‘0’ notifications. I could feel myself starting to get anxious and angry. ‘Please tell me you feel the same way’ my ass. I groaned and flung myself back against the couch, narrowing my eyes at the tv screen, Criminal Minds playing the background. I had been watching this when he was here- already 6 seasons past that point. I pouted and rubbed my socked feet together, my fingers tracing the dragons tattooed on my thighs.

Wow this.. actually sucks. I could feel start to wake up in the back of my mind, that dark inkling fear of being alone. That I'm alone. Always alone. I bite my lip, scrolling through my favorites and quickly calling my only lifeline. 

“Hello!?”

“Lix?” 

I could hear the rustling of phone as it sounded like he was holding it between his head and shoulder. I could hear him grunt and immediately tore my phone away from my hear, disgust present on my life. All previous emotions putting a pause.

“Oh! Felix- what the fuck! You better not be having sex!”

“PFFT! ______!” He sounded scandalized, his gasp a dramatic high pitched noise. “Why that’s not very nice!” 

I rolled my eyes at my best friend, a ruthful smile present on my lips. If there was one thing I could be sure of, I really wasn't alone, as much as my mind liked to convince me.

“Actually yea, I take that back. You are that much of a pervert-”

“Exactly!”

“-At least you have shame to hide your weird kinks!” The smirk growing on my lips.  

“Yea! At least I have- Hey! What the fuck are we even talking about right now!? Did you just call to insult me?” Felix growled over the phone, his voice going back down to a deeper pitch. I snorted as he hurriedly explained that his kinks weren’t weird, but linked to our genes and traumas. “-And another thing! We DON’T kink shame in this household!” 

“God, that Sex and Psych class really did something for you didn’t it?” Referring back to the elective course he and I both took to get our final Humanities credit. The class wasn’t bad and actually really informative, but it left a lasting impression on Felix, who ended up staying an extra two years to minor in psychology specifically about sexuality. And to think this guy wanted to go into business. 

“I’ll have you know humans are complex creatures and society has been made it to a mission to shame us for what-“

“Alright dude, we don’t have all night for this, now did you want to hangout tonight or not?”

“Well jeez! I don’t think I even remembered you asking if I was free!?” I whined into the phone, my foot stomping on the carpet.

“Pleeaaseee Lix! I just- I gotta go out or something!” He tsked through the phone before relenting saying he’d meet me in 10 to head to our favorite bar. 

***********************************

Pulling up to the Rooftop was always a hassle, but thankfully, Felix decided to order you both an Uber so that he could get as he said “blacked the fuck out”, I whined telling him it was me who was having a rough few weeks, I deserved to be getting fucked up.

"Please, ______, don't act like I didn't smell the two joints you smoked before I even arrived-" I smirked at Felix as he shook his head in disbelief. "-like legit, it took 10 minutes to get to you."

I shrugged, my eyes falling closed. "What can I say? I'm a connoisseur."

Passing the bouncer, our IDs already out and displayed as he let us walk in. The beat of the music and loud chatter from bar patrons drowned everything out as I pulled the strap of my tiny purse further up my shoulder. I walked towards the bar, wiggling my fingers at Sana, who winked at me as she finished handing a customer a drink. She whistled and eyed me up a down as she came over to our side of the bar. I had chosen a form fitting black jumpsuit, with long sleeves and thumb holes and my white kicks. 

“______, look I know I hit on you jokingly-“ I gasped in mock-offense, my arms crossing against the bar, boobs pushing up together, smirking as Sana’s eyes darted down, watching a slight flush hit her cheeks. “But for real, give me a chance, baby.”

Baby. I felt my heart stutter. My mind immediately flashing images of a certain brown-haired, brown-eyed boy. I focus back on Sana, and give her wink. “Who knows, Sana! You just might win me yet!” She laughed, her pretty lips tugging back in a smile as she prepared our usual drinks.

And honestly, why not give her a chance, Sana was hot as fuck, witty, and charming as hell. 

But she’s not Jisung-

Exactly! She wouldn’t basically ghost me after making me feel endless universes’ colliding in my stomach, ruining me for anyone from just a stupid kiss. Sana placed a rum and coke down in front of me and a vodka red bull for Felix. We cheers, both quickly throwing back the entire glass and slamming them down on the bar. I moaned and threw my head back. 

“Felix, this is literally what I needed, you don’t understand!” I pouted and looked over at him, eyes shining brightly. “Am I ugly?”

Felix started nodding before I finished, face sympathetic. 

“I thought you knew-“

“Hey!” A laugh bursted from my lips, as I slapped his arm. “You asshole! I’m serious-"

“So am I!” I pinched his side and he yelped, jumping in his barstool. His knee banged against the bottom of the bar and I fell in a fit of laughter against it.

“T-that’s what y-you fucking get!” Felix rubbed at his knee, eyes glaring at me as he asked Sana for another drink, purposefully making a point to ask her not to give me another. That sobered me up quickly as I pouted, reaching towards Sana with grabby hands. “Don’t listen to him! You’ve known me longer.”

“True-“ Sana ran her tongue over her bottom lip, clicking and tilting her head to the side. She turned her gaze to Felix, who leaned in smiling at her, the glitter around his eyes making him look ethereal as the transparent shirt shimmered like water as he lifted his hand to glide a finger across Sana’s hand that rested flat on the counter. “But I wouldn’t mind taking a dip in the deep end with you, Lix.”

I grimaced pulling back from them. 

“How could you! I thought what we had was special!”

“_________?” 

My back straightens as I whip around to see those eyes. Those big, beautiful eyes. Those big, beautiful, dumb eyes. 

“Jisung.”

He blanches, the hopeful look in his eyes faltering as he took in my cold demeanor. I could feel the blood rushing to my ears, god why did he have to look like that? His hair looked soft as ever, dressed in a black long sleeve shirt, black pants, and chunky boots. His gold necklaces sparkled. I hated it. He looks sooo fucking good. 

“Uh- h-hey, how’ve you been?”

“Fine. Yourself?” Jisung now frowns, his eyes darting all over my face. He must have found what he was looking for as I watch him visibly dissolve in front of me. Ah fuck now that hurts. He shoves his hands in his pocket, rocks back on his heels. 

“It’s alright, _______. I get it-“ he cleared his throat, a nervous laugh coming out as he ran a hand through his hair. “I hope you have a really good night. And uh-“ his eyes flickered over to Felix, something passing through them. “Be safe.” 

He mumbled out the last part and turned around quickly. I watched as he shuffled back towards a booth in the corner. I could recognize the two men that had accompanied him to the cafe, watching us with still curious eyes, except now, one of them met my gaze with a frown. Alright, now why's he looking at me like that. I turned back around to be met a raised eyebrow from Felix. He nodded his head over to the booth and leaned closer to me.

“Is that him?” I avert my gaze and take a peak behind me to find, oh god-

He’s staring. 

And he looks so sad. 

I turned back forward, choosing to ignore Felix's question as he already figured out just who left me in turmoil yet again, calling out for Sana to give me two shots of rum and another round of our drinks. Felix sputtered next to me, scandalized. 

“I was gonna be the one to black out!”

I scoffed at him, downing one of the shots and shoving the other towards him. 

“I don’t want to get drunk, I need courage.” 

Felix gave me a look, his eyes softening and an understanding passed through them. He gave me a small smile, hand reaching over to pat me on the top of my back, rubbing my shoulder. Felix threw his shot backs, coughing lightly. 

“God I hate rum- you’re sick for enjoying this so much-“ he turns his body towards me, his chin resting on his hand as his other arm came to rest on the back of my stool. I watch as his gaze goes to something behind and a surprised look makes itself known, his mouth forming the shape of an 'o'. “Also, I can’t help, but think maybe you won’t need anything liquid courage with the way he’s staring at yo- actually no, glaring at me really.”

Wait, HUH?!

I grabbed onto Felix’s arm and dug my nails in. Felix yelps, trying to tug his arm out of my hold. My cheeks suddenly felt hot and I reached to take a sip of my drink, chewing on the tip of the straw. 

“Is he really?” Felix snorted, sipping on his second vodka red-bull. His gaze going back behind me, and an evil smirk making its way onto his face. 

“Oh yea, I don't think he's stopped since he sat back down to be honest with you,” I gasped, my mouth falling open, eyes sparkling, before letting go of his arm finally to down the rest of my drink. I hopped up from my stool, slamming my purse down on the bar, giving Felix a look. 

“Guard this with your life. Now I’m gonna casually turn so I can see his cute dumb face and then I gotta pee like hella badly.”

Felix chuckled, before leaning in, placing a hand on top of mine and squeezed it. His nose almost touches mine and the smirk on his face widens. 

“Wanna make him jealous?” 

I roll my eyes and push at his shoulder, snorting at him. So stupid. I wasn’t one to be petty in that way. I preferred a more intimate type of pettiness and while I may be so frustrated at him, I didn’t want Jisung to think I was like that. Fuck him. I shook my head at Felix and turned to head in the direction of the bathroom. I started at the almost desperately helpless eyes that met my stare as I took my first few steps.

Jisung sat in the booth with what looked like an air of casualness, legs spread so that one was under the table, the other in front of him. I would've thought he was indifferent if it had not been the erratic bouncing of his leg, slight rubbing of his hand on his knee, and that look in his eyes told me he was anything, but indifferent.

I bite my lip, furrowing my brow, absolutely confused. Honestly, it really wouldn’t hurt me if I just reached back out to him. It's not like he hates me or anything, but still why didn't he ever text me. The phone does go both ways, I could’ve- should’ve said something more. This was my problem, why I spent countless nights, sitting in my room. 

Because it’s hard!

I averted my gaze from his, moving quickly to the bathroom. I finished my business, washing my hands before I’m left staring at the mirror. I did look good, beautiful even, my suit accentuating my figure and I turned to gaze at myself. A small smile made its way on my face, before I realized, I wish I was here with Jisung. Not that Felix wasn’t great company, but seeing him here.. All I wanted was for us to hold hands again. To kiss me again. To have him smile at me as he calls me 'his baby'.

Oh god. 

I shuttered at that, man was I sick. Hold hands with a guy once and now I’m obsessed. Maybe I should start therapy again. I threw out the paper towel, thankful that Rooftop was at least conscious of making the indoor bathroom a push door. I pushed it open with my butt, hands going up into my hair to form a bun, having forgot my hair-tie in my purse, feeling like I was starting to heat up from anxious feelings starting to surface. God, I need a hit. I gasp, my hands tightening in my hair as I found Jisung leaning- waiting -against the opposite wall from the restroom. His hands were shoved in his pockets, his head down, but shooting up once he heard the door opening. 

“Hi.”

“H-hi,” god he was so cute. He cleared his throat, standing up straight. He shuffled closer to me, his eyes hard to read as he gave me a soft smile. I watched his eyes slowly run down the length of my body, taking me in completely for the first time. He gradually returned to my gaze, his face almost unreadable, but I could see he was holding himself back. Back from what? “You look really beautiful tonight. I uh- I had wanted to tell you earlier. I- I’m sorry if I interrupted your date or if I-“

“Felix is just my best friend,” Jisung’s mouth snapped closed, his eyes flashing up to mine. “And I’ve never even remotely had feelings for him whatsoever and neither has he for me.” 

Jisung continued to stare at me, his expression growing even more unreadable. It was just like that first day meeting, I could see the gears turning in his brain as he needed a second to reset. Having let my hair fall from the initial shock of seeing him, my arms wrapped around the middle of my stomach and I stepped closer to him. 

“I just need you to know that I’m not talking to anyone or anything,” I took a deep breath, rubbing the tops of my arms before looking him the eyes again. “And, I’m sorry I didn’t text you. It’s not an excuse, but I got busy with work and I’m just not good- not the best at time management, but I'm working on that- but I could- should have at least said something to you.”

Jisung immediately starts shaking his head, hands coming out of his pockets to finally reach towards me, but pulling back at the last second. Biting his lip hard, his hands forming fists at his sides.  

“No, Ba- _______- fuck- Please don’t apologize. Fuck, I’m sorry, it’s on me. I should’ve been the one to call you and reach out. But-“ He groaned, scrubbing his hands into his hair, frustration and desperation oozing from his pores. I could feel myself perk up slightly, ears already picking up on the word he nearly dropped. I stared at him as he looked everywhere else, but me, his lips pouting. “You had just been so vulnerable with me and god I felt like I had taken advantage of you-“

“Taken advantage?”

“I mean there you are crying about your bad day, only trying to just tell me about it and I- I kiss you!”

“I wanted you to kiss me.”

“God, I felt like such an asshole, but you just looked so beautiful and sweet and just small and were looking at me like you just needed me and- wait what did you say?”

I laughed, finally closing the distance between, hand grabbing a hold of his fist, pushing my fingers to interlock with his. 

“I wanted you to kiss me and I really enjoyed it. You have been the only thing on my mind and I do want to apologize that you felt that way-" I shook my head, taking a step closer to him. "Jisung that was the best unconventional first date I’ve ever had. I didn’t feel taken advantage of at all.”

It was his turn to laugh, one out of relief, as he pulled my hand towards him, his other hand coming to wrap around my waist, his forehead coming to rest on mine. His eyes were closed, but I could feel the tension slowing leaving his body the longer he held me. 

"Baby, I can't tell you- I mean I just, fuck," I muffle my laugh, digging into his embrace. "The boys were telling me I was getting too much in my head and that you would have said if you were uncomfortable-"

"True."

"I just- you're so cool to me and I feel like I'm doing everything for the first time."

I bite my lip, taking a deep breath of his cologne as I rubbed my cheek against his shirt. "I feel it too, so I get it and I could have also just sent you a text too-

"No!" Jisung shook his head, arms tightening around me. "That was on me, pretty, definitely dropped the ball on that. I'm taking full responsibility!"

I laughed as I pulled my head away to look up at him.

"Jisung?"

"Hmmm?" He has this content smile on his face, swaying us as we held on.

"Will you go on a date with me?"

The swaying stopped and a deep red bloomed on his cheeks. Jisung stared down at me in wonder. His breathing stopped too as he continued to gawk at me.

“Are- you’re sure?”

I nodded, my hand coming to rest on his cheek as I leaned up to peck his lips. I moved back and smiled at the dazed look on his face, smothering the laugh the was threatening to come out, I rubbed my thumb back and forth on his chubby cheek. 

“I’m sure,” he basically melted into my hold, both of his arms now wrapping around my waist and lifting me slightly off the floor. I shrieked, hugging him closer, nails scratching lightly at his back.

"Fuck yes! Holy shit! You're my girlfriend!"

"I said a 'date'!" Laughter spilling from my lips, as he mumbled 'details' and 'soon' in between the pecks he left on all over my face.

Yea sometimes I could be really dumb. As Jisung squeezed me tighter to him. Really dumb. As he held my hand, walking us out to meet with his friends who had migrated to the bar now speaking with Felix. Like so enormously dumb. As he kept his arm around my waist the rest of night, excitedly introducing me to his friends and co-producers, Bangchan and Changbin (or as they call themselves as a group, 3RACHA). Like maybe Felix had been right with how many times he’s called me ‘pabo’. Because what was I thinking that I could have scared this guy off? I looked up at him, catching his gaze as he spoke animately to Felix about ‘Clash of Clans’ and without skipping a beat, he leaned down, his lips grazing mine before pulling away to continue speaking with Felix, who was now fake gagging along with Bangchan and Changbin. 

Yea I could be totally dumb sometimes, to think I could have missed out on him. So dumb.

[captain-joongz]

thank you so much for the tag @shadowkoo! it's such an interesting idea and i loved delving into my blog in this way <3

i've only been writing on here for a little less than a year, but i'm so damn grateful for the lovely community that opened their arms to me, and loved on my works and made me feel accepted.

i struggled a lot in this year and the one before, mainly because i felt super burnt out and like i trapped myself in a situation where i felt unmotivated. starting to write was my escape and my attempt to bring back some creativity and joy to my life, and it worked out better than i could have hoped for!

so thank you, for an amazing year that i truly enjoyed more than the last few all thanks to having a creative outlet here! <3

and thank you for leaving so much lovely feedback on my blog, i truly couldn't have asked for better readers!

the first fic i actually posted on my blog was Heroes, which was posted almost whole six months before i truly became active on here!

the first official fic that started off this blog then became Abraxas ch.1, which was posted on 16th of February, a day after my birthday!

number of fics posted : 7 one-shots, 8 chapters across 3 series, 18 drabbles during the hard hours

together that makes almost 225k words total!

number of fics in progress : 7 new fics + 3 new chapters

Tits out

Wooyoung x reader, bffs2l, college au, smut | 7k words

posted: March 3rd

this was my first one-shot posted, and the rush of adrenaline i felt when i woke up the next day and there was 99+ icon on my activity was indescribable. I'll never forget breaking my first 1000 notes on my first fic and getting my first comments!

thank you so much, everyone <3

Deserve you

Seonghwa x reader, brother-in-law!Hwa, wedding night au, pure angsty porn | 18.5k words

posted: July 17th

I remember working on this fic relentlessly and being so proud of it! I had a major break-down in April and left school, and wasn't writing for some time because i wasn't in the mental space to, and this was the first thing i poured my heart into when i got back into my fics. the idea has been stewing in my mind for months at that point, and i felt so fulfilled finally putting it out!

thank you to everyone who loved this fic and lost their minds to me about it, i loved watching your reactions more than anything!

Dragonheart

OT7!BTS x reader, dragon au, dragon-rider au, high fantasy | currently sits at 36k words

first posted: July 9th (the masterlist) | August 14th (the first chapter)

My first OT7 project! I love dragons so much, and having the chance to write about them is such a passion of mine! i have so much in store for this story, so much to unfold and such a journey to take, all the while making this a love song to the mythical creatures I've always been obsessed with and to the seven boys who helped me stay sane!

and of course, to you my readers, who supported this series and have endless patience with me while i write new chapters for you!

According to my AO3 stats, the favourites are vastly different on there than they are here!

On my account there, the favourites are as follows :

1.Dragonheart

2.A little show

Yoongi x reader, college au, s2l, fluffy smut | 9.6k words

posted: April 21st

3.Tits out

4.Deserve you

5.Cinderella

Yoongi x reader x Hoseok, club owners au, s2l, smut | 19.7k words

posted: September 17th

Abraxas, ch.2

Yoongi x reader, mob boss au, police officer au, investigative, crime | the series currently sits at 78k words

this chapter has over 39k words, and it's the longest I've ever written - it even had to be split up into two parts for the ease of reading!

Penny for your ghosts, ch.2

OT7!BTS x reader, hybrid au, supernatural au, ghost hunting au | this series currently sits at almost 20k words

i posted this chapter after months of not being active, on the 24th of December, like a little present for all my patient darlings!

Deserve you

Seonghwa x reader, brother-in-law!Hwa, wedding night au, pure angsty porn | 18.5k words

posted: July 17th

As i said before, i do have quite the soft spot for this fic, and it's very close to my heart, but i do genuinely think that this is some of my best writing, and i re-read it occasionally haha. i feel that this was some of my most creative time, and i wrote this fic with an ease, as if the words just wanted to come out and i was simply their medium. though Tits out is definitely up there too!

i've been periodically putting out fic recs and talked about my favourite fics, so if you're interested, check out my library!

otherwise, the few absolute favourites that i'd choose would be these:

Ugh, as if! by @ennysbookstore (khj x reader)

Look after you by @mingigoo (khj x reader)

Plug & Play by @bangtanintotheroom (khj x reader)

we can't be friends by @jensthwa (cs x reader)

obliviate me by @bvidzsoo (psh x reader)

home for the holidays by @highvern (jwy x reader)

Masked miracles by @remedyx (bts x reader)

Trouvaille by @spookyserenades (bts x reader)

fast lane by @yminie (ksj x reader)

fail-safe by @jiminrings (myg x reader)

love roulette by @whatifyoulivelikethat (myg x reader)

strike a chord by @snackhobi (myg x reader)

Illicit favours by @yoongiofmine (myg x reader)

petty by @hamsterclaw (jjk x reader)

package deal by @hoseokhasmyheartxx (myg x reader x jhs)

Sex & Candy by Marcy Playground

Nothing Matters by The Last Dinner Party

Too Sweet by Hozier

Dis-ease by BTS

Wonderful Nothing by Glass Animals

Love Again by Dua Lipa

Come back to me by RM

Set Me Free pt.2 by Jimin

So Beautiful by DPR Ian

D-Day by Agust D

Peanut Butter & Tears by DPR Ian

UGH! by BTS

La Bohéme by Charles Aznavour

Light My Love by Greta van Fleet

Run BTS by BTS

to get back into writing, as i will have more free time, to finish the requests that i've gotten and haven't found the time to write, to pour my heart into updating the series i've started

to experiment more with my writing and my genres and try something new

to post a Halloween fic that i didn't have time to write for this year's Halloween

to turn cherry-yoongs from a side-project into a fully functioning fic library/review blog

to continue growing and to never lose the spark for writing <3

and here we are! the end <3 this was super fun to make, and i loved sharing this with you, so thank you once again to Raven, who tagged me in hers!

i hope that whatever comes to us in 2025, we'll make the year our own and continue soaring even higher into the sky 🩷🥂

and also special thanks to my three anonies ✨💋🪷, thank you for reaching out and hanging out!

tagging (if you feel like it, if not, definitely don't feel pressured into making this <3) :

@spookyserenades @remedyx @potatomountain + anyone else who sees this and feels inspired to make one!

[paynomindtotheinsanity]

Update, I've reread it twice and gone thru most of your blog for crumbs. My body shrieks for this fabled 'Chapter 27' of Legend. Sealed away in the dragon's keep. Locked under lava, flame, magma and DOOOOOM!!!

I also like??? Really like your writing style?!?

It's astoundingly good because even though I'm the type to drop and not read 1st Person POVs (I did this, I replied, yadda yadda), I got hooked onto the premise and your words almost immediately. It was amazing.

I also wanna bring up the art. Your style for Zim is surprisingly cute and what is to be said about Dib remains in the deep crevices of my mind. Deep... Very Deep. Deeper than the caverns that gave him his trauma, that's for damn sure--

I shoosh. I shoosh. Otherwise I'm gonna keep talking about the horny bug and his vampire boyfriend all day and we wouldn't want that on our plate. Not todAy.

Have a nice rest of your day, night or evenin', bye byes!

Aahhhhh thank you!! 😭

Chapter 27 is very real, I assure you. Poor @abrthephantomq has to suffer with me throwing random smut scenes at them while I work on the draft. It's gonna be a beast of a chapter >:]

But for real, the comments you guys leave about my writing style means so much to me. I went, like, seven years without writing much of anything, and getting back into it has been a huge factor in recovering my mental health. I know 1st person POVs aren't typically popular, but it's my favorite writing style, and it warms my heart to see it's been well-received.

Also, your thoughts about The Dib are safe here. We all viciously simp for the alien-vampire 😌 (the "deeper than the caverns that gave him his trauma" line was so fucking funny, thank you for that).

Chapter 26 will be up in a few days. It's kinda heavy, so I've been struggling a bit to make sure it hits just right.

Thank you again for such a lovely message! <3

[mithrilhearts]

Fanfiction Author Interview Game

Thank you for the tag, @pomgore!! It's been so long since I've done a proper tag game, it feels like lol

How many works do you have on AO3?

32 currently, though I'm tempted to trim some of that down with some works I'm not really fond of anymore (orphaning I guess? I'm not sure yet lol)

What's your total AO3 word count?

784,858, with a good handful of words written down unfinished and unposted

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

May Your Forge Burn Bright

(Take Me Back To) The Night We Met

Dragonhearted

Forget-Me-Not

An Ink-Stained Vow

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to anyway!! I may not get to them in a "timely" manner, but I try. Even if it's simply reacting with an emoji - I like to let people know I see and appreciate their kind commentary!

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I am a happy ending type person, so I don't have any angsty endings, I don't think?

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

See above lol they all end happily, and I want to keep it that way!

Do you write crossovers?

I haven't written any, and as of now, I have no intention to. Not my vibe

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I have a few times now, yes. Honestly, it just goes back to my philosophy of "don't like, don't read", but hey, not all of us can be reasonable and not leave hate when we don't like something. The back button exists for a reason!

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do yep, as for what kind...soft? I don't know how to describe it 🤣 it's not exactly a strength of mine.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

As far as actually WRITING it together, yes! @sunnyrosewritesstuff and I did a collab last year for The Hobbit: An Unexpected Collaboration!

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Bagginshield, I would say. I have some other OTPs, or ships that I enjoy, but they're the one that have their claws deep in my skin at this point

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

This is such a hard question. I genuinely don't want to leave a started (as in, I started posting it on ao3) fic unfinished, but I have no idea where life is going to take me. I have an assortment of fics started, and plot bunnies fleshed out, but no idea where I'll get with them.

What are your writing strengths?

These questions are so hard to answer! I think maybe dialogue, sometimes? And maybe descriptions of emotions.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Run-ons are a huge issue for me during the actual process, but I also struggle very much with battle sequences. I would also throw smut under this as well lol

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think it depends! I throw in Khuzdul for dwarves, but offer in translations, but never really go beyond that. I think there are cases where it works, and others where it becomes too much.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

Baldur's Gate 3 and Dragon age! I have stuff drabbled out a little bit for the latter, but haven't posted anything yet. I'm ready to expand my horizons!

What's your favorite fic you've written?

Asking me to pick my favorite child, I see. It can change from day to day, and for TODAY, I'm going to say Kurdu 'abadaz - it gave me an opportunity to do my own take on a "fix it fic", but also held something unique and unseen before which is amazing in a 10+ year fandom lol it was such a huge accomplishment that meant a lot to me.

Tagging @elvain @chaoticangel666 @fantasyinallforms @sunnyrosewritesstuff @imakemywings and any other writers who want to participate!

[alrightbuckaroo]

Happy Friday, my loves! It's been a minute since I've seen this tag game go around and it's been even longer since I participated. Seems like the perfect time to change that. As always, please feel free to use this as a jumping off point for all the wonderful words that have been written. Don't stop with just this list!

Take my hand, take my whole life, too by @heartstringsduet

With each wrinkle, each scar, each crease, each spot, their rings, their hands tell the stories of their lives together.

throw me on a hurricane (i'll ride it to the coast) by ArsenicInYourPudding

This is, in fact, TK's first rodeo. Carlos is lucky that he's there anyway.

Protect me by Karaxuno

“It’s what you want, isn’t it?” TK asks, struggling for a second to find the words for what he wants to say, “Space to grow?” “With you, I’d take a closet.” Carlos teases, his fingers dancing away from his shirt sleeve and instead tracing up and down the line of TK’s jaw. “Been there, done that, let’s find a house.” TK grins, unable to stop the little laugh that bubbles in his chest. Or, post-S2-fire TK and Carlos look for a place together, and house shopping has its ups and downs.

Among my stillness was a pounding heart by @tailoredshirt

TK took a deep breath. “I think we need to talk about what happened last fall. With the loft.” Carlos’s brain was skipping around from one feeling to the next like a pinball. “With…when we broke up?” “Yeah.” “You…want to talk about the breakup,” Carlos said slowly. “While I’m proposing to you.” TK squeezed his hands. “Yes. Please.”

I hold onto the night you looked me in the eye and told me you loved me by @irispurpurea

"I have lost everything!" TK roars, and it feels so good. "Isn't that the whole point?" Or: It's the beginning of Season 4, and TK and Carlos are broken up again.

The Light of Our Life by @carlos-in-glasses

After an awkward conversation, Carlos buys TK a bearded dragon and fears it may be a parting gift (Coda for 4x12)

See Me (All of Me) by @bonheur-cafe

A fractured heart and a plea to be seen. Otherwise known as: the apology from his mom that Carlos never got, but deserves.

Make Me Laugh 'till I Die, I Stand Beside You With Pride by @lemonlyman-dotcom

A coda to the ending scene of 4x06. TK has a moment of insecurity; Carlos reassures him and, in the quiet safety of their bed, confesses an insecurity of his own.

tried and true blue by @reyesstrand

"She knows," Owen says, his eyes almost too sincere for TK to handle. He clamps his molars together and just stares at his father, because if he lets himself think too hard about all the ways his mom is still here, somehow, he'll probably burst into tears. Owen gives him a sad smile. "She does, TK. She used to talk about when you'd get married all the time." There's a pause, and TK curls his fingers tighter around his mug, letting everything simmer between them. "When I got married," TK quietly repeats. "Not if?"

and because there's a new chapter on the way, I'm going to recommend my shameless collection of smut, something to give each other (things are about to get so casual)

No pressure tagging everyone above and:

@captain-gillian, @carlos-tk, @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut, @basilsunrise, @butchreyes

@nancys-braids, @never-blooms, @mikibwrites, @lightningboltreader, @herefortarlos

@honeybee-taskforce, @guardian-angle22, @freneticfloetry, @fifthrideroftheapocalypse, @strandnreyes

@sheholdsthemoon, @actual-sleeping-beauty, @whatsintheboxmh, @welcomehometk, @reasonandfaithinharmony

@welcometololaland, @eclectic-sassycoweyes, @rmd-writes, @thisbuildinghasfeelings, @theghostofashton

@orchidscript, @paperstorm, @emsprovisions, and of course here's an open tag for anyone who just wants to share!!

[poeedamerons]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to five other writers! 💗

To be honest, I cherish everything I’ve written because each piece represents a part of my journey as a writer and offers a glimpse into who I was at the time of writing. I truly enjoy revisiting them from time to time. However, my absolute favorites—and there are quite a few—are:

Baby, you're the only one I'm coming for – This was the first smut I ever wrote, and I had so much fun exploring their dynamics. It holds a special place for being such a milestone in my writing journey.

I can't believe you let him down (but the proof is in the way he hurts) – This was the first truly different piece I wrote, as it wasn’t about my OTP from that show. I ended up writing so much! Back then, 5k words felt like an enormous feat, especially considering I was juggling an 8-hour job. The story just kind of wrote itself, and it only took me about two days to finish.

Me? I will fall in love with you every single day – This story is so sweet and stands out because it pushed me beyond my comfort zone. It features Michael waking up and coming to terms with being in the hospital—something that, at the time, felt really challenging to write. For some reason, it even inspired me to write another amnesia fic for a different fandom! Knowing this story is a favorite within its fandom makes me so proud. I still remember being in a Discord for this fandom and seeing people I admired praise it. They didn’t even realize I was the author because my AO3 and Discord usernames were different—it’s such a cherished memory.

Busco en la memoria una señal (diga que no me olvidarás) – Another amnesia fic and also a fandom-favorite. It’s such a sweet story, and I had a blast developing the plot. I even included a nod to another fanfiction by a well-known author I admire, and she loved it, which made the experience even more special.

May you rise (may we burn) – This is, without a doubt, my all-time favorite. It’s the most different thing I’ve ever written and felt like a significant step forward in my writing skills. It’s also unique within the fandom—at least for Lucemond—because it’s written entirely from a dragon’s POV. That made it feel like such an accomplishment and a true turning point for me as a writer.

Inside of us (a wild thing) – I have to include this one, even though I’m still struggling to finish it. This was my first fic after almost three years, and I was definitely rusty. It’s set in a more medieval universe, which was a significant challenge for me since I’d only ever attempted a historical setting once before. What makes it so special, though, is that the entire plot is infused with all my personal favorite kinks, making the process uniquely enjoyable despite the obstacles.

[kalmiaphlox]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️

oooh thank you for this! I think I've done this before but it was a while ago and now I have a few more fics under my belt!

I'm Better Now, I know My Faults - my completed dadstarion long fic, coming in at 206k. I recently reread this, and while it's a fucking mess from my inability to stick with tenses in the first like 14 chapters (I promise I'll fix it one day, I'm so sorry new readers!!), I am super proud of what I created. It's not perfect, it's kinda long, but damn I wrote all of that and I miss my lil characters. I wrote well over 100k of it before I actually started posting online and every word was a labor of love.

Till Lies Break Our Hearts - current WIP. Arranged marriage AU between Astarion and my OC/Tav Hircine. Inspired by a lot of Korean manwhas that involve the same trope, I've been really enjoying writing this one. Manipulative Astarion and secretive women, what's not to like? Lots of Elder scrolls references, drow lore, spooky shit and eldritch happenings in this one so I have a lot of fun just doing whatever I want.

If You Give A Vampire A Polymorph Scroll - probably my favorite short fic of Astarion and his big (little) dragon gf getting up to funny business in Waterdeep. Crimes and lots of biting to be had with these two goobers. I just like silly stories

Crash Landing - a little dad-batstarion. Astarion learns how to fly as a bat and becomes much to confident. A cute little fluffy story. Also one of my faves.

Damn, this is what it feels like to be you? - this one is definitely a labor of love... I've struggled a lot with just keeping the characters properly differentiated and then I could complain all day about writing smut lol but it's been a ton of fun writing something so different, especially for a character that is resistant to this type of stuff.

[prpfz]

👑💞 — twentyone plus mun. they/them pronouns.

info . . . only looking for historical/fantasy ( think a song of ice and fire , dragon age , lotr / hobbit , skyrim , vikings , etc ) right now. bring me your royals , your highborn gals , your lgbtq+ muses. I have a m oc I've been dying to use and work on. he can be adapted to fit into other verses , however I am primarily looking to write him against some kind of royal right now. the princess of a kingdom , highborn noble girl with a skewed view of the world , but i'm open to other muses as well. mxf is my ideal pairing right now ( or mxm with your muse being trans or is a softer , gentler type of m ). themes . . . the specific vibes i'd like to touch on include heavier themes ( dead 🕊️ including 🍪 , non/dub con , incest , and more ) , the mistreatment and struggles around being property , forced into roles , to wed and bear children , age gaps , and seeking freedom , escape , or otherwise. looking for a mixture of heavier and softer themes. this could mean kidnapping , violence , power imbalances , abuse , your muse seeking mine out as a form of s/h , to flee a forced marriage , and so on. i'd also really like this to imply some sort of stockholm syndrome type bond eventually, or maybe our ocs build a genuine bond together? are they soulmates? are they facing against the same enemy? unlikely friends? forced together to interact? there's endless possibilities, and i'd love to explore them. angst is beloved here , so please bear that in mind too! nsfw highly encouraged ( i only have a few limits ) , with a range of around 50:50 plot to smut to 80:20 plot to smut. kinks can be discussed privately! interested . . . leave a like , and I'll reach out!

give a like and anon will get back to you