#but the rest faded into obscurity
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When my interest shifts from one to another I donât start disliking/hating the old one
It just slips into being dormant until something inevitably triggers monkey brain about it again
#for instance! I am likely going to be annoying as shit once professor layton nwos comes out!#I do have old PL ocs to dig out to redesign#two of them survived past my PL interest! (cateyes and Naro)#but the rest faded into obscurity#namely Abigail and Cosmo#I kinda dodged getting SUPER back into lmk when the last season came out#but thatïżœïżœïżœs because I caught covid 0.2 seconds after I watched it JGSHFKFH#Iâm trying to think of more recent ones#trolls!! is one of them! I DO still love those movies#but I have a huge dislike towards my own ocs for them so?? bramble is likely dead unless I give him a major redesign#(where he would not be a troll anymore)#uh⊠psychonauts! I have exactly one (1) psychonauts oc and itâs a sona#I would likely only get back into that if I decided to replay the games or they made a 3rd game#currently ace attorney owns my brain! and I am!!! struggling with making fan art for that JGSHFJJD#I feel like Iâm not allowed because Iâve only ever played up to the second game#I donât know who apollo justice or trucy wright is#I only have knowledge of phoenixâs disbarment via osmosis#who the fuck is godot. why does he throw coffee at phoenix.#i dont know
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the fact that mary shelley was supposed to be on the boat with percy when he drowned but at the last minute she didnât go because she still didnât feel well enough due to a miscarriage which almost killed her a month earlier except he saved her life⊠and that she later believed she was meant to live to raise their child (who was named after percy!!!)⊠the amount of dramatic details surrounding their lives blow my mind⊠how were they even real!!!!!!
#imagine if they had both drowned together :(#percy never would have been as famous because he was mainly posthumously famous due to mary editing/republishing his work#the rest of her life#& frankenstein never would have been adapted as a play so it wouldnt have been as famous#the 1831 version wouldnt exist#it would have been way less or way more popular#they could have been more famous for dying together OR would have faded into obscurity#its insane to think about#godwin would have fought timothy for the boy#timothy sadly might have won
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#people acting like cmd will fade in (relative) obscurity like whichever other xyz player if he never **** *** *** like are you stupid#heâs easily a first ballot hofer even if he retires today bc there is not a single player w multiple harts who isnt#like heâs going to be a part of the conversation w gretzky and sidcros for the rest of time#<- sorry soemtimes men on podcasts are infuriating#heâs also barely halfway thru his career like brother has time#sidcros just was godâs favourite child and also started w a better team than cmd did#<- not to diminish what heâs done. obviously. but theyâre differentttttt
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(18+) König x Reader - Jealous of Your Sex Toys
WARNING: Implied Toxic Relationship Dynamic
Youâre a grown woman. You are allowed to have sex toys - itâs expected even. And yet, you feel guilty. Caught doing something you shouldnât have been. Body locked up and eyes wide as you stare down at the brightly-colored silicone sex toys resting in the flat of Königâs massive palm.
âYou donât need these. Iâm enough for you, ja?â
Itâs a simple question - a yes or no question - but you both know there was enough strings attached you could spool it into a ball of abrasive twine.
You weigh your options.
âYesâ - No more sex toys for you. A life of relying purely on your fingers and him, clit never knowing the buzz of a vibrator again. Giving into his will and letting him control you to a degree that you know isnât healthy.
âNoâ -
Well, you canât say no.
Aside from how soul crushing you understand the weight of that word would be coming from you - itâs far from the truth. He is enough for you. More than enough - too big, even. Too insatiable. Too much of an ego to not leave you whimpering and covered in the evidence of finish after finish until you were begging him to stop.
Your hesitance is somehow worse than either of your impossible options. You should have just blurted the first answer that came to mind.
His brow quirks as his gaze continues to bore into you with sly, half-lidded eyes.
âNo?â He asks, with a quirk of his brow and a thrilling glint of mischief in his eye.
You still canât bring yourself to confirm or deny.
He nods in understanding, his giant hands wrapping around your sex toys, so little in his palms.
âThatâs okay, mein Nervenkitzel Sucher,â He purrs, âI can share.â
Your shoulders brace instinctively, insides coiling as tight as that ball of abrasive twine, those attached strings getting more and more tangled with every silken word that rolls from his tongue. He says itâs okay - but it sure doesnât feel like he means it. Choking you with those tricky strings.
The fistful of your sex toys - your misdeeds, your dirty, shameful little secrets - falls to his side. He approaches with precise steps until heâs between your knees, looming over you.
âIâll show you,â He says with a dangerous crinkle in his eyes, a sickeningly sweet smile surely hidden underneath that mask.
You unintentionally shrink in on yourself in the shadow of his hulking, commanding figure. A calculated move. Not-so-subtly reminding you of just how small and defenseless you are in his presence. His voice drops, and those brows furrow, that smile surely faded behind the black fabric obscuring his face as he stares down at you intensely.
Your mouth has gone dry, your attempt at words - an apology, a flirt, a joke, anything - leaves you as nothing but a dried out squeak lodged deep in the back of your throat.
âIâll show you how I share.â
-
âKmph-Kmph!â
âSh, sh. Isnât this what you wanted, BlĂŒmchen? To keep both?â
You let out a truly pathetic whine, throwing your head back on the mattress. How many times have you cum?
You lost count, lost your very rationality, lost to him - the gift of bittersweet pleasure twisted into something unbearable.
âGreedy, greedy girl.â
Plugged, stuffed, and spread open. Your vibrator buzzes ruthlessly on your abused, swollen, throbbing clit at a torturous speed. Restrained by your own handcuffs, secured tightly to the headboard and keeping you from putting up the fight that would be useless anyway. Thereâs surely a metaphor hidden somewhere within this detail - but your thoughts are so clouded with arousal thereâs no way youâd be find it.
Too much, too much, König, too much!
And while you know he knows exactly what youâre pleading, your mouth will never form the words - stifled by the drool-covered gag nestled between your lips.
His pumps in and out of you at a punishing pace, thick cock soaked with your arousal and disciplined hips snapping against the back of your thighs, ignoring the tears of pure overstimulation streaking down your temples.
He studies you with narrowed, unreadable eyes, watching you writhe. His stare lingers on your chest, arching and twisting beneath him as you fight the cruel pleasure between your legs. His stare is eerily cold for a man whose cock is being pleasured by a warm, tight cunt. Youâre not even sure if heâs enjoying it, or if this is purely a lesson he must teach you in his eyes.
You know heâs trying to prove a point - to show you that you only need one or the other. Canât you see? Both is just too much for a little girl like yourself to handle.
So choose wisely, little one.
⥠KĂNIG DRABBLE MASTERLIST âĄ
#sorry for the lack of drabbles bbs Iâve been focusing on my longform works :)#hope yâall donât mind <3#dividers: thecutestgrotto#könig#konig cod#könig cod#konig call of duty#konig#könig call of duty#cod#call of duty#dadscannons#cod könig#cod konig#call of duty konig#call of duty könig#cod smut#cod x you#konig mw2#könig mw2#konig x reader#könig x reader#könig x you#konig x you#cod x reader
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I LOVED the âWho invited you?â one, so i was thinking⊠maybe a Thornton!reader x season 3!rafe, where Rafe and reader are secretly dating and reader tells about it to sofia, not knowing she had a crush on Rafe, so she tells everything to Topper
Stay in your lane || Rafe Cameron x Thornton!reader
A/n: so sorry this took me forever to reply to but hope you like it!!! added my own little twist in the end reminder that requests are open!!!!
Warnings: mentions of smoking, suggestive content, if theres anything else, lmk!
Word count: 1,884
MASTERLIST (rafe x thornton!reader au masterlist)
divider by @h-aewo
As you step into the country club, the cool air conditioning providing instant relief from the summer heat, you're greeted by a familiar face. "Hey," Sofia's voice carries a warm, welcoming tone as she catches your attention. Her honey-coloured hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail, and she looks every bit the part in her crisp, white polo shirt.
"Sofia, right?" you say with a smile, sliding your sunglasses up onto your head. She nods with a bright smile, her eyes sparkling. "That's me! And you're Y/n, Topper's sister," she says confidently, her gaze lingering on you for a moment as if to commit your face to memory.
"Yeah, that's right," you reply, your tone light and friendly as you confirm her guess. "Can I get you a table?" she offers, her hand subtly gesturing towards the dining area where groups of people are already seated, enjoying their meals and conversations.
You shake your head gently, your smile widening. "Oh no, I'm here with someone," you explain, a hint of warmth in your voice. Sofia's expression shifts as her lips form a small 'o' of understanding. "Well, enjoy!" she responds, her smile returning, though there's a hint of something else in her eyesâcuriosity, perhaps, or intrigue.
You reciprocate her smile, offering a small wave before you turn to walk away. As you move towards the back of the club, you can feel Sofia's gaze following you, her attention unwavering until you disappear from sight.
~
Sofia stepped into the secluded section of the country club, balancing a tray of drinks with practiced ease. The chatter of the main dining area faded behind her as she ventured deeper into the quieter, more exclusive part of the club. As she approached the table, she quickly recognised you sitting there, and a curl of smoke caught her eye, obscuring the person seated across from you.
"Iced tea and a Westbrook?" Sofia announced as she drew closer, her voice steady. But as she placed the drinks on the table, her eyes widened in surprise as she finally saw who you were withâRafe Cameron, his presence unmistakable.
âThanks, Sof,â you responded warmly, your smile reaching your eyes as you accepted the glass of iced tea from the tray. Sofiaâs attention drifted towards Rafe, who sat across from you with an air of nonchalance. He casually exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke, his intense blue eyes never leaving you as he flicked the ashes into the nearby ashtray.
His gaze was unwavering, almost possessive, as he watched you, barely sparing Sofia a glance. It was clear that his focus was entirely on you, as if the rest of the world, including Sofia, simply didnât exist in that moment. The casual way he leaned back in his chair, a cigarette dangling from his fingers, contrasted sharply with the tension in Sofiaâs chest.
"Y-you're welcome," Sofia stammered, caught off guard by the sight of the two of you together. She quickly realised that her surprise was showing, and she forced a polite smile before retreating, her mind racing as she walked away, the image of you and Rafe together lingering in her thoughts.
~
As Sofia made her way outside, she hauled the heavy bags of rubbish towards the bins at the back of the country club. Her thoughts were preoccupied, replaying the scene she had witnessed earlier of you with Rafe. The image of the two of you together lingered in her mind, stirring a mix of emotions she couldnât quite pin down.
Lost in these thoughts, something in the parking lot suddenly caught her attentionâRafe Cameronâs truck parked in the parking lot. Her steps faltered as she saw you step down from the passenger side, a playful smile on your lips as you tugged your dress back into place.
Sofiaâs heart raced, and without thinking, she ducked behind a nearby tree, hoping to remain unnoticed. Peeking out from her hiding spot, she watched as Rafe emerged from the car, his confident smirk evident even from a distance.
He moved towards you with a casual grace, his hand trailing down your back before giving your ass a light, possessive squeeze. The gesture was intimate, familiar, as if this wasn't the first time he'd done it. Then, Rafe leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that seemed to linger just a little too long.
Sofia could feel her chest tighten as she observed the scene, her mind reeling from the implications. She watched as he then walked you to your Porsche, his hand resting on the small of your back, guiding you with ease.
He opened the driver's door for you, the gesture almost gentlemanly, before leaning in for one last kiss. The way you smiled at him before driving off sent a pang of something unidentifiable through Sofiaâs chestâjealousy? Surprise? Disbelief? Maybe all three.
As your car disappeared from view, Sofiaâs eyes remained glued to Rafe. Just as she was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he suddenly turned his head in her direction, as if sensing her presence. Panic surged through her as she let out a quiet gasp, instinctively slapping a hand over her mouth and pressing herself harder against the rough bark of the tree.
She remained frozen, barely daring to breathe, until she heard the roar of Rafeâs engine as he sped off. Only then did she dare to move, her heart pounding in her chest. Of course, you and Rafe were together. The thought settled heavily in her mind, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. It was almost expected, yet seeing it with her own eyes was something else entirely.
~
"Hey, Sof," you greet her with a warm smile as you walk up to the bar and take a seat. Sofia returns the smile, but there's a slight tension in her expression, a tightness that you don't seem to notice. "Hey, what can I get you?" she asks, her voice pleasant but lacking its usual warmth.
"An iced tea will be fine, thanks," you reply, settling into your seat. Sofia nods and begins preparing your drink. As she works, your phone buzzes, drawing your attention. Sofia can't help but eavesdrop as you answer it. "Hey," you say into the phone, your lips curving into a smile as you listen to the person on the other end.
"Yeah, 1 p.m. is fine." Sofia continues making your iced tea, her curiosity piqued, wondering who you're talking to. When the call ends, you smile at Sofia, who quickly averts her eyes, focusing on placing a straw into your glass before pushing it across the bar towards you.
"Thank you," you say, taking a sip of the iced tea. You then pick up your phone again, your fingers tapping away as another smile forms on your lips, seemingly in response to a message. Sofia, now cleaning some glasses nearby, can't hold back her curiosity any longer.
"So⊠you and Rafe, huh?" she asks, her tone laced with subtle intrigue as she glances over at you. You look up from your phone, a light giggle escaping your lips. "Yeah?" you respond, a bit amused by her question. Sofia purses her lips, nodding as she tries to process this new information, a flutter of jealousy stirring in her chest.
"I didn't know you guys were dating," she continues, her voice careful, as if trying to gauge your reaction. You hum softly, playing with the straw in your glass. "Between you and me, we were friends with benefits for a while before he asked me out properly," you admit with a small, almost secretive smile.
Sofia nods, doing her best to hide her surprise, but there's a flicker of something in her eyesâdisbelief, maybe even a touch of envy that she quickly tries to suppress. Her mind races, wondering how she missed the signs, and why the thought of you with Rafe unsettles her so much.
"Does Topper know?" she asks, her tone slightly more pointed as she looks at you. Your eyes snap to hers, and for a moment, the air between you feels charged with something unspoken, a tension that Sofia struggles to ignore.
"No, he doesn't know yet. We'll tell him soon enough, though," you reply, your voice steady. "Right now, he just thinks we're really good friends." Sofia hums in response, trying to mask the pang of jealousy as she watches you return to your phone, clearly engrossed in your conversation with Rafe.
You finish your drink and stand up, offering Sofia a warm smile. "Thanks for the drink, it was so good," you say sincerely before turning and walking off, leaving Sofia standing behind the bar, her thoughts racing as she watches you disappear from view.
~
When Sofia caught sight of Topper and Rafe walking into the country club, her heart began to race, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety flooding her system. The two of them made an imposing pair, effortlessly commanding attention as they approached the bar.
Sofia's gaze followed their every step, her pulse quickening when Rafeâs eyes met hers. He held her gaze for a brief moment before leaning in to whisper something to Topper. Without a word, Rafe then turned and walked outside, leaving Topper alone at the bar.
"Just my usual, thanks. Make it two," Topper said, leaning casually against the polished wood. His tone was indifferent, his eyes lazily scanning the room as if the bar and its staff were just another part of the scenery. Sofia nodded, accustomed to his detached manner, and began preparing the drinks.
As she worked, she stole a glance at Topper, feeling a sudden surge of boldness. Clearing her throat, she decided to speak up. "Y/N's not joining the two of you tonight?" she asked, her voice steady despite the nerves bubbling underneath.
Topperâs attention snapped back to her, his brows knitting together in mild confusion. A dry chuckle escaped his lips, the sound laced with a hint of amusement. "And what makes you think my little sister should be here with us?" he asked, his tone edged with curiosity as he watched her skillfully mix the drinks.
Sofia felt her confidence grow, fueled by the moment and the subtle power shift she sensed. She met his gaze head-on, refusing to be intimidated. "I'm not sure, I just thought she'd join you guys since she and Rafe are a couple now," she replied, trying to sound nonchalant as she shrugged her shoulders.
For a brief second, Topper went silent, and Sofia braced herself for his reaction. She expected surprise, maybe even a flash of anger or disbelief. But instead, Topper's response was cold and indifferent, his expression unreadable. "Don't see why that concerns you, Sofia," he said, his eyes drifting towards the view outside, his interest in the conversation fading as quickly as it had sparked.
Sofia's eyes widened, not prepared for his dismissive tone. "Oh, noâI was just wonderingâ" she stammered, her initial confidence rapidly dissolving under his gaze. Topperâs stare sharpened, cutting her off before she could finish. "I think you forget yourself sometimes," he said, his voice chillingly calm.
"Just because you work here in Figure 8, it doesn't give you the right to go sticking your nose in our business, yeah? So stay in your lane," He grabbed the glasses she had just finished preparing, his hand steady, his demeanor cold.
With that, he walked off without another glance, leaving Sofia standing there, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She hadnât expected Topper to speak to her like thatâso harshly, so dismissively. The words stung, lingering in the air long after he had disappeared, and Sofia was left alone.
#rafe cameron x thornton!reader#drew starkey#rafe cameron#outer banks#rafe cameron x reader#fanfiction#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey x y/n#rafe cameron x you#obx fanfiction#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x oc#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron obx#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe outer banks#outer banks x reader#outer banks x you#outer banks x y/n#rafe cameron x sofia#outer banks fanfiction#outerbanks rafe#drew starkey x you#drew starkey x female reader#drew starkey x oc#obx imagine#rafe x y/n#rafe x reader
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SO INTO YOU. â nicholas a. chavez & cooper koch âđâËâč
â pairing. n. chavez x fem!reader x c. koch â
a/n. woof this took long... i hope you enjoy though! let me know if you want a part two (i want to write it so bad but really rough & filthy this time). anyways requests are open just like my legs for these two
.á warnings. fluff (just nick & coop being cuties & in love!!!), SMUT! making out, soft!dom!cooper, more of a mean!dom!nicholas, slapping?, threesome ofc, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, orgasm denial, sum dirty talk (praise & slight degradation), more fluff :)) wc. 4896
The camera flashes made you slightly lightheaded as you posed, well-trained smile on your face â your uneasiness not visible to the paparazzi, but the two men next to you noticed it almost immediately.
Nicholas' hand was resting around your waist comfortably; not tight or low enough to draw attention of the cameramen, but with enough force to let you know that he was there for you.
You looked at Cooper, sweet smile on his face when he caught your eye, the flashes finally coming to an end, and all three of you exhaled with relief.
"I thought it would never end", you pressed your glossed lips together, fixing your hair softly, as you fell back against the chair.
Nicholas laughed at that, sitting across from you, the exhaustion visible in his eyes; he made sure no one was looking before taking your hand into his.
Your relationship with Nicholas was quite... complicated. You were best friends ever since you two met on the set of Monsters. It was you, Cooper and Nicholas, a trio that the internet loved.
Although, you were just a woman. And Nicholas was just a man. It soon evolved into something deeper; something you couldn't quite name. The lingering touches, sleeping on a couch together after an exhausting day on set, sporadic kisses on the cheek, a little too close to the corner of your lips. It would be hard to explain to the general public. You were just friends.
When it came to Cooper, he was the sunshine of your trio. His hugs warm, always making sure you were comfortable in his presence. He was so much different than Nicholas; less bold, always touching you with a glint of uncertainty. They complimented each other so well, it actually started driving you crazy.
You liked Nicholas, and you liked Cooper. Although at this point, you weren't sure if you only liked them. You still felt comfortable around them, but every touch from either of them sent a spark of excitement down your spine, which â you hoped â they didn't notice.
You had no idea what was happening, but you didn't like it.
Nicholas' thumb traced soft circles on the back of your hand, his eyes warm and welcoming, pretty smile adoring his face. You hesitated before returning the gesture, the loud music and incoherent voices seemed to fade into obscurity as you stared at him. He looked so good that night; a patterned, slightly unbuttoned shirt clung onto his body perfectly, simple black dress pants and shoes, and the god damn cross necklace. Such a simple look, but he looked absolutely flawless. You wondered how he managed to leave you speechless every time he walked into the room. His hair looked messier than usual after he ran a hand through it right after you all left the spotlight.
You shook slightly when you realised you were staring. Nicholas chuckled, shaking his head, hand leaving yours, the sudden coldness making you miss his touch almost instantly.
"You look good tonight", you declared, looking him up and down shamelessly, sly smirk appearing on your face. Nicholas leaned back against the chair, spreading his legs; the sight making your mouth water.
"Could say the same about you, Y/N", Nick rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb nonchalantly. A dangerous glint appeared in his eyes, and you crossed your legs at the sight. Your name leaving his mouth made you shift in your seat uncomfortably, the room becoming smaller in a second.
He didn't lie, though. You decided on a bold outfit, yet modest enough to make an impression. A tight bodysuit with built-in shorts, leaving a little to the imagination; brand new, knee high Naked Wolfe boots that made your legs look longer, and a leather, red coat. Nicholas almost choked when he first saw you, and so did Cooper â yet you didn't notice the way their eyes lingered on your body for a little too long.
"You look... fucking hot". You couldn't help but smile at the compliment; his voice sincere, eyes glistening with something you couldn't quite name, playful smirk lingering on his lips. You bit your lip, slightly breathless, playing with the hem of your bodysuit mindlessly. Nicholas' eyes wandered down your body as you did, your curves visible through the thin material, and he noticed that instantly.
"Hey!" Cooper's voice saved you from the heat of Nick's stare as he stepped in. You looked up at him, his presence not helping that much, after all; he looked so good, they both did.
"We have to do some interviews and then we can get the hell outta here", he declared, and you nodded, getting up from the chair awkwardly. A waitress stopped next to the three of you, tray with some kind of alcohol in her hand â champagne, you assumed, polite smile on her face. Without hesitation, you took a glass, swallowing all of its contents almost at once.
Nicholas and Cooper laughed when you made a face; it definitely wasn't a champagne. It tasted more like a vodka tonic. Your face twisted in pure disgust at the taste, eyes closing involuntarily.
"Now, slow down, pretty", Cooper said in a playful tone; the nickname made you wish you could drink five more of those drinks. You sent him a glare, small smile lingering on your lips nonetheless.
You heard someone call your name, and you exhaled at the sight of an interviewer waving at you. You exchanged knowing looks with both men before you all walked towards the camera.
A few hours and drinks later, you finally felt your body relaxing. The better part of the event came â an after party where cameras were not allowed. You were relieved; the annoying and disrespectful paparazzi followed you like lost puppies, as if trying to capture every single moment of your evening.
You found yourself sitting at the bar, Nicholas and Cooper nowhere in sight. You played with the rim of your glass, the slight buzz finally getting to you, small smile playing on your face.
An image of Cooper and Nick popped up in your head again, and you found yourself thinking about them in inappropriate ways.
The way they'd kiss you, Nicholas more harshly, demanding, almost aggressively. And Cooper? Cooper would take his time, leaving you breathless and painfully turned on when he pulled away. You had no idea which one you liked better. Preferably both, at the same time.
You shook your head, finally deciding on going to search for them. The smell of weed filled your nostrils, and you raised your eyebrows; it wasn't usual for celebrities events to go this far.
Your steps were quite unsure and shaky due to the alcohol in your system, but still confident, as you paced through the crowd of people. You looked around you in search of Cooper familiar curls, but you soon realised it was pointless.
What if they're making out with some random girls?
The thought crossed your mind and you shifted uncomfortably, accepting your defeat as you walked towards the bathrooms.
The corridor was dark, and if it wasn't for the music still playing loudly in the background and the alcohol in your system, you would definitely be scared.
Your boots echoed through the walls, shiver running up your spine at the sudden coldness. You almost screamed when the men's bathroom door opened, and you were met with someone's warm chest.
His smell filled your nostrils, and you exhaled, recognising it right away. Nicholas.
"Already falling for me, doll?", he laughed when you looked up at him, the height difference almost ridiculous â even when you were wearing the highest boots you could find.
The corridor was lit only by the men's bathroom dim lightning, and you suddenly felt a spark of excitement run through your chest.
"I was looking everywhere for you!", you declared, stepping away from him, the smell of his cologne making your head spin a little. You studied his face; he seemed completely sober, hair in the same condition you last saw it in â so he didn't fuck anyone during his absence. Relief run through your veins at the realisation, small smile making its way onto your face.
"I was looking for you, too", he grinned, and your stomach turned at the sight. "We were just talking about getting the hell out of here. Wanna spend the night?", he asked casually, and even though it wasn't unusual for you to stay over at his place, it felt different this time. You nodded frantically, biting your lip. His cross, gold chain glistened in the dim lightning, and you couldn't help but stare at his chest, hiding under the shirt.
"You know...", you started, your hand moving up before you could register, fingertips lingering on his chest softly. Nicholas stiffened when you met his eyes, and his jaw clenched. "You look really good tonight".
"If you were anyone else, I'd think you're flirting with me", he laughed, but you could feel his muscles tensing when you run your fingers over his chest more confidently now. You tilted your head, wanting nothing more than to feel his skin on yours. "And what if I was?", you challenged, voice teasing, and his hands were on your hips in an instant. Nicholas pulled you close, hands slipping under your loose coat, running over your curves greedily.
"I wouldn't mind", he said truthfully, and you breathed out. He was so close, you could feel his breath on your cheek, and your lashes fluttered at the feeling. "I would say... you look tempting. Making it really hard for me to control myself".
You tensed, hands running over the sides of his neck, eyes never leaving his, and you noticed how much darker they've gotten. With one swift movement, you were against the wall, Nicholas' hand lifting your leg to rest on his hip.
"You have no idea what you do to me", he whispered, his voice low and predatory, as his other hand run over your throat softly.
This will ruin our friendship. These words echoed in your head as you looked deep into his eyes, gaze almost innocent, sending jolts of electricity down to his cock. Any doubt left your mind when you realised that you waited for this for the longest time. Maybe I like him a little too much, you thought, as your eyes lingered on his lips, so tempting. Before he could say anything else, you pressed your lips to his greedily.
You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips at the contact; your lips moved in a perfect sync, hands roaming over his chest, nails digging into his skin. Nicholas held your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh in his big hand, the other one tangling itself in your hair.
He pulled on it, hard, and you whimpered, the pain on your scalp sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core. He smiled into the kiss, body pressing into yours with force as his tongue found its way into your mouth. One more pull at your hair, and you moaned into the kiss, his tongue half down your throat in an instant. It traced the inside of your mouth, almost as if he was trying to memorise every single detail about it.
He swallowed your moan as you arched into him, eager to feel all of him all over you, his strong hold on your hair only intensifying.
You felt his bulge press into your thigh deliciously; you tested the waters by grinding your hips down, and he let out a strangled moan, the sound making you shiver.
The next second Nicholas' lips were all over your neck, and your head tilted back involuntarily, mouth opening in a desperate moan. That was before you realised you were still on an event â public event, and that someone could actually catch you making out in a dark corridor.
You tried to form a sentence, but the words died before you could speak, as he sucked the soft skin on the column of your throat: marking you.
"Nick- we need to-", you tried to explain how irresponsible he was being, but he didn't seem to listen; if anything, he got more eager, pressing you flat against the wall, hips moving forward to grind against you.
That's when he opened his eyes and looked into the darkness surrounding you; and he was pleased to see Cooper standing there, leaning against the wall, watching the little show in front of him with interest.
Nicholas smiled as you pulled at his shirt, playing with the buttons, and he kissed your neck once again just to distract you from noticing Cooper.
"Looks like have an audience, doll", he whispered in your ear, and it took you a second to actually process his words; when you did, your eyes shot open.
"Holy shit", you heard a familiar voice; your eyes widened even more in realisation.
Cooper stood there, in the darkness, and if it wasn't for his voice you wouldn't even notice he was there. He took a step closer, and you were surprised to see that he didn't look mad. He didn't look surprised, either. Small smirk made its way onto his face, eyes dark â but it could be all about the shitty lightning.
You bit your lip, not quite knowing what to say. Nicholas took a step back, not a trace of shame or embarrassment on his face; he returned Cooper's gaze, a silent deal made between the two.
You knew Cooper was into guys. You weren't quite sure if he liked girls, too â you never asked, partially because you were scared of the answer. His words made you think that maybe he was into Nicholas, maybe he liked him the way you did. You shifted uncomfortably, not meeting his eyes.
"Well, we are finally getting there", Nicholas said, fixing the bulge in his pants shamelessly, and your gaze lingered on it for a little too long. You wanted â no, needed â more, and getting caught by Cooper of all people didn't exactly help the pulsing between your legs. Nick caught your gaze, playful glint in his eyes, but he looked unaffected. You wondered what he meant, but just before you could ask, he already took your hand and leaded you to the door; Cooper following close behind you.
You were panting, hair messy and lipgloss smudged; most of it stayed on Nicholas' face, though. Your eyes glistened insatiably, his words echoing in your mind like a promise of what was about to come.
You didn't remember the way back to your hotel; when you did get there, though, you felt Nicholas' hand low on your back, Cooper keeping his distance as you walked to one of the boys' room; you couldn't help but wonder if he was mad at what he had witnessed, guilt blooming in your stomach.
Nicholas looked relaxed, though, sending you and Cooper an occasional smile, tracing soft circles onto your back, and you shivered at his touch.
You got to the room 230; you remembered it belonged to both of them. As Cooper unlocked the door, Nicholas' presence behind you like a shadow; you walked in, the tension between the three of you lingering in the air as you made your way to the living room.
"Coop, I...", you started, breaking the silence, as Nicholas disappeared in his own room. The older man didn't look at you when he took his coat off, avoiding your gaze. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't... We shouldn't have...".
You could tell he was holding himself back as he did everything but look at you, pretending to be extremely busy with his watch.
"I'm not mad, Y/N", he ensured; you raised your eyebrows at the sound of his voice. Hoarse, low and quite strangled.
"Then why won't you look at me? Why won't you talk to me?", you whined, the need to confess everything you felt for him now stronger than ever.
He didn't answer. You sighed, a hint of annoyance now clear in your voice.
You stared at Cooper from a safe distance, taking in the sight in front of you. He looked just as good as Nick: simple but elegant, making you sweat like a dog in heat. A black, plain sweater, dress pants and shoes complimenting his tan skin. His long fingers played with the watch on his wrist, and you couldn't help but imagine the possibilities.
You took the coat off your shoulders, the sudden heat all over your body making you sweat uncontrollably. Your boots clicked against the marble floor as you made your way to the couch, throwing the coat on it carelessly.
You took a deep breath before deciding on what to do next.
"Coop...", you turned to him, and he finally met your eyes. "I want... For the longest time, I...".
The weight of what you were about to confess fell on your shoulders with force, words dying in your throat under his intense gaze.
"She wants to fuck us".
Your eyes widened at the words leaving Nicholas' mouth. You turned to him, he leaned against the doorframe, shirt slightly unbuttoned, dress pants still low on his hips. He must've been there for quite a while, watching you struggle.
"I...", you tried to explain, all of it pointless when he smiled knowingly.
You couldn't lie to then and say that he was wrong; but you couldn't just admit that he was right.
"I'm not doing this", you whimpered, embarrassment filling your whole chest, making it hard to breathe.
"You're not doing what? Admitting the truth? It would be so much easier for us to grant your wishes sooner if you were honest from the start, pretty", Cooper got closer to you by a second, and Nicholas creeped in behind you, the room becoming smaller in a second as you realised that they planned all of this.
Cooper tilted his head, his gaze hardening dangerously as he watched you.
Nicholas' chest pressed against your back, and you whined at the contact; your eyes never left Cooper's, almost as if an invisible string was connecting the two of you.
A wet kiss on the side neck was all it took for your knees to buckle. Before you knew it, Nicholas was devouring the delicate skin of your neck and collarbones, his big hands closing on your hips, making sure you stayed upright.
This is so wrong, you thought when Cooper took a step towards you, and, as if he was testing the waters, leaned over to brush your lips against his. Nicholas licked a wet stripe up your neck, and you arched your back, a quiet whimper leaving your mouth when Cooper came closer, pinning you between his and Nicholas' bodies.
"Tell me you want this", he whispered, voice soft, and you tried to nod, but Nicholas' actions on your neck made you slightly lightheaded. "Tell me".
"I- I do", you breathed out. "Wanted this for so long".
You felt Nick smile against your skin as he pulled away just slightly, his bulge pressing against your ass deliciously. Your mind went blank as Cooper finally pressed his lips to yours, his kiss soft but demanding.
Nicholas squeezed your hips in his big hands, and you whined, clawing at Cooper's chest, the urge to feel his skin on yours overwhelming, and Nicholas was back on you again. He cupped your breasts through the thin material of your bodysuit; you moaned shamelessly, biting on Cooper's lip, the taste of him intoxicating.
You were in one of the boys' room in a blink of an eye. Nicholas grinned at you and sat down on the bed, and your lips were back on his in an instant. He tugged at your hair yet again as you started unbuttoning his shirt; the feeling of his chiselled chest under your fingertips almost making you drool a little.
You pulled away, taking the excess clothing off his body, throwing it somewhere on the floor. You looked at Cooper, his eyes glistening softly as he traced his fingers down your back. You couldn't decide whether to focus on him or Nicholas.
Cooper kissed you again, this time more aggressively, pushing his tongue into your mouth for it to tangle with your own; a groan left his mouth at the taste of you as he held you close, tugging at the material of your bodysuit urgently.
You smiled before pulling away, taking off your shoes â the height difference even more prominent now â before you removed the bodysuit from your body in one, swift movement.
Your back was met with the soft sheets, the boys towering over you, each on opposite sides of the bed. Your chest heaved with uneven breaths, and you thanked yourself for choosing a sexy set of lingerie for the night.
Nicholas' greedy hands were on you, everywhere at once, running over your curves, squeezing the soft skin of your covered breasts. You whined, searching for Cooper's mouth again, and he gladly leaned in, delicate touch lingering on your neck, making sure to leave you panting under him.
"We've talked about it for months", Nick admitted, and Cooper pulled away, nodding at his words.
"We wanted to have you right here, under us, letting us use you however we please", the younger man continued, exposing your boobs with one strong tug at the lacy material of your bra.
You panted when you felt both of their lips on your sensitive skin there. The difference between the two men more prominent than ever now that they were touching you. Cooper's movements were more thoughtful as he pressed wet kisses on the skin of your boob, tongue darting out to circle around your nipple teasingly. Nicholas didn't hold back, biting at the sensitive nub between strong sucks, making you see stars. They complimented each other so well, it actually made you whine and arch your back as you tugged at their hair.
"Holy shit, please", you begged for god knows what, and you almost cried out in relief when Nicholas lowered his head, pressing kisses all over your stomach, before he found the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.
Cooper positioned himself so that he could sit behind you, his legs on both sides of your own. He grabbed your thighs, spreading them open for Nicholas; he lowered his head to look at your drenched cunt, a small patch of wetness on the centre of your panties. He hummed, biting the soft skin of your thighs, and when he looked up at you, you felt as if you could come at the sight alone.
Cooper kept one of his hands on your thigh, while the other one travelled up your stomach, between your boobs, brushing against your hard nipples just for a second.
"Are you sure?" he whispered in your ear softly in the exact moment when Nicholas' lips pressed against your clothed pussy. He placed a dirty, open mouthed kiss on the center, and you shivered, head lulling back against Cooper's shoulder.
"Answer him, doll", Nick demanded; voice sharp and dangerously low as he watched the way your jaw went slack, mouth opening in a quiet whimper.
"She sounds so pretty", the older man smirked, and you felt his bulge press against your back. His grip on your tight tightened, and he pressed a soft kiss on your shoulder.
"Nick, please, yes- I'm sure", your eyes opened involuntarily as he moved your panties to the side, your wet cunt now exposed to the cool air around you.
"Holy shit", Nicholas smiled, tilting his head while his thumb pressed against your clit. The touch was barely there, but it didn't fail to send jolts of electricity down your spine. "She's so wet, Cooper. Almost dripping all over my sheets".
Cooper hummed softly right into your ear and you twitched against both of them. They were talking as if you weren't there, and it made you embarrassingly more turned on.
"Yeah?", he rasped, the sound making you shiver against them. One of Cooper's hands travelled down to brush against your puffy clit. You moaned as they both touched you; Nicholas' fingers slowly dipping into your entrance, the wetness coating your walls making it easy for him to stretch you out. Cooper's thoughtful touch graced the button hiding between your folds. His touch so delicate, unlike Nicholas' â his fingers moved slowly but steadily, pulling them out almost fully before dipping back in.
You were breathless; your chest heaved with uneven breaths, one of Cooper's hand resting on your boob â not putting any pressure, just letting you feel his hands on your overheated body.
"So good, oh shit-", you managed to get out as your back arched off the bed; Nicholas was quick to hold your hips down with his unoccupied hand. His wrist moved faster now, along with Cooper's; they found just the right rhythm to make you go crazy without making you come too fast.
Whimpers left your mouth as you gripped Cooper's thighs, your nails digging into his skin with enough force to leave marks.
"You're right, she's practically soaking our hands", Cooper murmured, and you could feel your cheeks heating up. Your eyes fell closed for a second, before his free hand reached to grab your neck â pressing with pressure that made you slightly lightheaded, but not with enough force to choke you. Your eyes flew open; Cooper looked down at you, his darkened eyes making your legs shake.
"Don't close your eyes, darling", he held your throat harder; both of their hands moving in sync, determined to get you to your peak. "Please", you whispered pathetically, turning your eyes to Nicholas, who was watching you the whole time. His mouth formed into a dirty, open mouthed smirk, sending sparks of electricity down your spine.
Holy shit.
"Are you close, doll?" Nicholas asked, his voice raspier than you've ever heard before. You nodded frantically, the coil in your stomach ready to snap any second now. You whined when Cooper's fingers left your clit and Nick slowed down.
"No, fuck!", you cried out, hips bucking into Nicholas' hand, and they both definitely didn't like it.
You felt a strong sting on your left breast, Cooper's hand slapping it roughly.
"Look at her, practically crying for us to make her cum", Nicholas tutted, his drenched fingers scissoring into your cunt. Before you could come up with a smart reply, his mouth was all over you.
He pressed a wet kiss right on your clit. You squirmed; Cooper held both of your boobs in his big hands as he watched Nicholas devour you with a satisfied smile on his face, index finger and thumb tugging on your nipples experimentally.
Nicholas held your gaze as he licked a stripe from your opening up to your clit. He sucked the little button between his lips, tongue tracing circles around it, his fingers inside of you moving with precision, hitting just the right spot every time.
"She tastes so sweet, Coop", he groaned between licks, winking at you, the vibrations of his voice making your thighs shake around his head.
"Oh, I bet she does", Cooper replied breathlessly and he forced your face towards him; his mouth meeting yours instantly, tongue playing with yours as he swallowed your moans.
"I'm-", you weren't able to finish the sentence, before Nicholas sucked on your clit particularly hard, his fingers moving swiftly inside of you, and you could feel your orgasm nearing.
"Come for us", Cooper whispered softly, fingers playing with your stiff nipples non-stop as you whimpered into his mouth.
"Yeah, baby, come on, make a mess for us", Nicholas pulled away only enough to watch your face twist in pure bliss, the sight of you kissing Cooper while he pleasured you turning him on more than it should.
You cried out, one last withdraw of Nicholas' fingers and your back arched off the bed; they didn't stop you this time. Cooper pulled away to watch your face as you wet Nicholas' hand, creaming all over his thick fingers.
You were breathless, eyes threatening to close, but instead they widened, when Nicholas got up from his knees, grabbing Cooper's hair, and then kissing him.
Obscene sounds left both of their mouths as Nick let Cooper taste you on his tongue. You watched the scene shamelessly, your pussy clenching around nothing as Cooper sucked on Nicholas' mouth before pulling away.
"You're right, she tastes fucking divine", he breathed out, grinning at you and Nick, eyes clouded with lust.
Your legs closed, the earth shattering orgasm leaving you spent and limp between their bodies.
Your head fell against Cooper's chest, and he wrapped his arms around you in an instant.
Nick smiled at the sight of you, so defenceless and spent after only his fingers and mouth.
He pressed a sweet kiss against your forehead, and you murmured something incoherent, almost falling asleep right there and then.
"No. I wanna cuddle", you whined when Cooper and Nicholas tried to pull away, but they were quick to obey. Cooper laid you on your side, his chest pressed firmly against your back, and Nicholas laid down on his back, letting you rest your head against his own chest. He played with your hair mindlessly, and you were fast to fall asleep, nothing but happiness filling both your heart and mind.
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Jacaerys Velaryon - Protect and Avenge
Summary -Â Ambushed by ruthless bandits, Jace's wife is ripped from his arms, igniting a fury within him and he truly will stop at nothing to protect the woman he loves, no matter the cost.
Pairing -Â Jacaerys Velaryon x reader
Warnings -Â Violence
Word count - 2442
Masterlist for Jacaerys âą House of the Dragon General Masterlist.
The journey to the Wall was proving longer and more exhausting than I had anticipated, yet my determination to see it through remained steadfast.Â
From the outset, I had pleaded with Jace and Lord Stark to let me accompany them, yearning for a chance to steal a few peaceful moments with my husband amidst the rigors of the trip.
As we pressed onward, Lord Stark and his men rode ahead, scouting for a suitable place to rest for the night. Despite my weariness, I found myself captivated by the beauty of the landscape around us.Â
The tall trees stood like silent sentinels, their leaves whispering in the cool evening breeze, while the fading light painted the sky in hues of orange and pink.
"This is all so beautiful," I murmured, almost to myself, as I admired the view.
"It is, isn't it?" Jace responded, though his eyes remained fixed on me.
"When all of this is over," I began, my voice tinged with longing, "we should travelâsee the great wonders across the Narrow Sea."
Jace's smile softened as he reached out to touch my hand. "Anything you wish," he promised.
Just as the peaceful moment settled between us, the serenity of the forest was shattered.Â
Figures emerged from the shadows without warning, their movements swift and silent. My heart leapt as they stepped onto the path, blocking our way and forcing us to halt abruptly.
Jace's hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword, tension radiating from him as he scanned the strangers. Their faces were obscured by capes, but their postures were unmistakably threatening.
I took a deep breath and straightened in my saddle, striving to keep my voice calm as I addressed them. "Apologies, have we done something to offend you?"
The leader, a tall figure with a rough voice, stepped forward. "Your presence here is what offends us," he said, his tone cold and menacing. "These lands are not safe for travelers."
I exchanged a quick glance with Jace, who subtly shifted to place himself between me and the leader. The tension in the air was palpable, and I felt my pulse quicken.
"We are simply passing through," I replied, my voice steady despite the fear creeping up my spine. "We mean no harm and seek only to continue on our way."
The man's eyes roved over us, lingering on our fine cloaks, the well-crafted saddles, and the quality of our horses. I could see the gears turning in his mind, a calculating look crossing his face as he assessed us.
"I do not see a traveling party," he remarked, gesturing to the empty road around us.
"Lord Cregan Stark and his men are not far ahead," Jace said, his tone firm but cautious. "We are accompanying them."
At the mention of Lord Stark, the man's eyebrows lifted slightly, and he glanced back at his group. They straightened, exchanging knowing looks.
"Lord Stark?" the leader repeated, his voice now tinged with interest. "You must be some important guests, then."
A chill ran through me as I realized what he was thinking. Our clothes, our horses, the mere mention of Lord Starkâall marked us as wealthy, or at least valuable. To a group like this, we were the perfect targets.
The leader smirked, a sinister glint in his eyes as he turned back to us. "Seems we've found ourselves a bit of fortune today, boys," he said, his voice dripping with malice.
Before we could react, the men closed in around us. Jace's hand flew to his sword, drawing it with a sharp hiss as he braced himself to defend us. The determination in his eyes was clear, but so were the overwhelming odds against us.
"Stay close to me," Jace ordered, his voice low and tense.
The men moved with practiced precision, their intentions unmistakable. They saw an opportunity to take something, or someone, of value, and they weren't going to let it slip through their fingers.
Jace swung his sword, delivering a fierce blow to the first attacker, but more men quickly swarmed around us. I reached for the dagger I kept hidden, trying desperately to assist, but the chaos was overwhelming.
There were too many of them, too strong, and despite Jace's valiant efforts, it wasn't enough.
Rough hands suddenly grabbed me, yanking me from my horse. I screamed and struggled, but their grip was relentless. Jace's face twisted into a mask of fury as he fought to reach me, but the men were ruthless.
"Let her go!" Jace roared, desperation and rage lacing his voice as he slashed at the men holding me. For a fleeting, heart-stopping moment, he managed to break through, reaching out to pull me back.
But more men piled on, and the force was too great. I was torn from his grasp and dragged backwards, my efforts to escape futile against their ironclad hold.
"Jace!" I cried out, my voice trembling with terror as I was pulled further away. I saw the anguish in his eyes, the helpless rage as he struggled against the overwhelming numbers.
Jace fought like a man possessed, his sword flashing in the dimming light, but it wasn't enough.Â
The men were too many, their intent too fierce, and I was dragged away from him, my captors tightening their grip.
"Take her!" the leader barked, and I was roughly hauled into the trees. My screams echoed through the forest, growing fainter as Jace's desperate shouts diminished in the distance.
My heart pounded as I was ripped from the man I loved. The once-beautiful forest had transformed into a nightmarish blur as I was carried off into the unknown, my fear of what awaited me mounting with every step.
"Let me go!" I thrashed wildly as they dragged me deeper into the forest, but their grip remained unyielding.
They flung me over the back of a horse, my body jolting with each rough step as we moved further and further from Jace, from safety. In the distance, the soft, flickering light of a campfire came into view, casting ominous shadows over my impending fate.
The men shoved me to the ground, and I winced as the rough earth scraped against my skin. They quickly bound my hands and feet with coarse rope, the knots tight and unforgiving. I could hear their voices murmuring among themselves, low and urgent.
Their ragged appearance marked them as mercenaries or bandits from the Riverlands, their clothes worn and their faces hardened by a life of crime.
"Please, listen to me," I begged, my voice trembling with fear, but they ignored me, engrossed in their whispered discussions.
"Listen!" I shouted, forcing some of them to turn and look at me.
"The man you just fought is Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne, and I am his wife," I declared, my words spilling out in a desperate rush as tears streamed down my face. "His mother, the queen, will not take this lightly. Just let me go, and we can end this now."
The men exchanged uneasy glances, the gravity of my words slowly sinking in. One of them, a wiry man with a cruel smirk, raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
"You lot nicked a princess?" he asked, his twisted grin widening.
"Well, we didn't know she was a princess when we took her," another man retorted defensively, his voice tinged with nervousness.
As the realization of their mistake dawned on them, the unease in their eyes became palpable. A crime like this would undoubtedly draw the wrath of the crown.
Instead of releasing me, their hesitation grew, caught between fear and greed. The leader stepped forward, his face hardening as he weighed their options.
"If she's truly who she claims to be, then she's worth a king's ransom," he said, his voice cold and calculating.
My heart sank as I grasped the danger I was in. These men, desperate and driven by greed, had nothing to lose and everything to gain. I was now the unfortunate prize in their ruthless game.
Before I could react, rough hands grabbed me again, clawing at my clothes and forcing me to my feet. They dragged me forward, shoving me into the center of the circle they had formed. Their eyes gleamed with a perverse curiosity, as if I were a rare and exotic creature on display.
"Hold her up!" one of the men barked, and more hands seized me, lifting me so that I was suspended in their grip, my feet barely touching the ground.
The ropes binding my wrists and ankles dug painfully into my skin, but the physical pain was eclipsed by the overwhelming sense of humiliation that washed over me.
They passed me around like a lifeless doll, their rough hands poking and prodding with cruel enjoyment. Their laughter and crude comments were relentless. Tears stung my eyes, but I fought to keep them back, determined not to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.
"Look at her," one sneered, yanking at my cloak to reveal the fine dress beneath. "All dressed up like she thinks she's better than us."
"Bet she's never had to work a day in her life," another added, his voice dripping with disdain.
"Probably thinks she's too good to even look at the likes of us," a third chimed in, his face contorted with malice.
Their words were like daggers, each one striking at my dignity. It wasn't just their words, it was the way they looked at me, as if I were nothing more than a trophy to be displayed, a symbol of their defiance against those they deemed superior.
To them, I was not a person but a prize to be humiliated, a way to assert power in a world that had likely offered them none.
"Let's see how pretty she looks without all that fancy fabric," one of them sneered, reaching for my dress.
Panic surged through me, and I struggled harder, twisting in their grip, but their laughter grew louder, feeding off my fear. The leader stepped forward, his eyes as cold as ice, and seized my chin, forcing me to look at him.
"You should've stayed in your castle, little princess," he hissed, his breath hot against my face. "Out here, you're just another piece of meat."
The weight of the humiliation was crushing, pressing down on me until I felt utterly powerless. Surrounded by their mocking faces, my pleas for mercy were swallowed by the cacophony of their laughter.
Just when I thought I could endure no more, a thunderous voice shattered the cruel laughter that surrounded me.
"Get your hands off my wife!" The command roared through the clearing, silencing the jeering men and freezing their wicked smiles in place.
My head snapped up, and through my tear-blurred vision, I saw Jace standing at the edge of the clearing, his face a mask of rage and determination. He was flanked by Cregan and his men, their weapons drawn and ready.
Jace's eyes locked onto mine, burning with a fury I had never seen before.
In an instant, chaos erupted. Cregan's men surged forward, their swords clashing with those of my captors, who barely had time to react.Â
The leader's grip on me slackened as he turned to face the new threat, but it was too late. Cregan's men were relentless, cutting through the bandits with brutal efficiency.
I was dropped to the ground, my legs buckling beneath me as the battle raged on around me. I heard Jace calling my name, his voice filled with desperate urgency. I tried to stand, to reach for him, but my strength had been drained by fear and exhaustion.
Then Jace was beside me, dropping to his knees and pulling me into his arms. He cradled me against his chest as I sobbed uncontrollably. The warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart were my anchors to reality in that moment.
"I'm here, I'm here," Jace murmured, his voice trembling with emotion as he held me close. "I'll never let anyone hurt you again."
I clung to him, my fingers digging into his cloak as if I could melt into him and escape the horror of what had happened. The tears flowed freely now, and I couldn't stop them, nor could I hold back the flood of emotions that had built up since my capture.
Jace stroked my hair, whispering soothing words as I cried into his shoulder. The sounds of battle faded into the background, replaced by the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat and the solidity of his presence.
For a brief, precious moment, the world shrank to just the two of us, and I felt safe again.
As the last of the bandits were subdued, their leader was dragged forward by two of Cregan's men. His defiance had melted away, replaced by fear as he was thrown to the ground at Jace's feet.
Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead, and he looked up at Jace with wide, panicked eyes, no longer the predator but the prey.
Jace's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at the man who had dared to lay a hand on me.
Without a word, he drew his sword, the steel gleaming in the firelight. I could feel the tension in his body, the barely restrained fury trembling in his hands as he gripped the hilt.
"Please..." the leader began to beg, his voice trembling as he realized the gravity of his mistake. "I didn't know who she was... I didn't know..."
His pleas fell on deaf ears. Jace's gaze remained cold and unforgiving, and in that moment, I knew there would be no mercy.Â
This man had taken something precious from Jace, my safety, my dignity and Jace was not one to let such a transgression go unpunished.
Without hesitation, he swung his sword, the blade slicing clean through the air. The leader's plea was cut short, his life ending in an instant. Blood splattered the ground, and the clearing fell silent, the weight of what had just happened settling over everyone like a heavy shroud.
Jace stood over the fallen man, his chest heaving with the force of his anger, his sword dripping with blood.Â
The conflict in his eyes was evidentâthe struggle between his need for justice and the horror of taking a life but when he looked back at me, only the fierce protectiveness of a husband who would go to any lengths to keep his wife safe remained.
He sheathed his sword and turned back to me, kneeling once more to gather me in his arms.
"It's over," he whispered, pressing his lips to my forehead. "You're safe now."
I nodded, though my body still trembled with the aftershocks of fear. I clung to him, letting the warmth of his embrace and the steady reassurance of his voice wash over me.
I was safe, I was with Jace, and that was all that mattered.
A/n -Â Jace's protectiveness levels just went from "'I'll hold your hand' to 'I'll decimate an entire forest for you.'
#house of the dragon#house targaryen#hotd#hotd x reader#house of the dragon x reader#hotd one shot#hotd season 2#house of the dragon fanfiction#hotd fanfic#jacaerys targaryen#jacaerys velaryon#jacaerys x reader#jacaerys velaryon x reader#team black#prince jacaerys#jace x reader#hotd jacaerys#jacaerys strong
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Vicious little thing
Eris x Reader
Synopsis: Dressmaker for the Inner Circle was the dream job turn mundane nightmare, all in Court you could never quite warm to. A chance encounter with the infamous son of Autumn leaves you wondering if there's more to life than what it seams (get it lol cause seams not seems)
Warnings: Flirting, banter, Eris pissing Cassian off, angst, descriptions of injury, two males being creepy (but don't worry protective Eris on the scene), jealous Eris, a lil violence and torture, Lucien being an MVP as always
A/N: You guys!! I just have not been in the headspace for writing but I had this written awhile back and I just want to shout out and thank @ninthcircleofprythian @pit-and-the-pen @lady-of-tearshed for helping me out! Let me know as well guys if you have any requests, might get my brain going
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Of all the places in Night you had accompanied the Inner Circle to, Hewn City was comfortless to you, a specific cold that followed you throughout the Court only amplified off the the dripping stalactites. The slippery cobblestone streets echoed as you moved with slight tension in your steps, fresh supplies tucked under your arm. You practically counted the seconds to when you would reunite with your home deep within the House of Wind, the only place in Night Court with any ounce of warmth for your bones.
A loud bar leaked patrons onto the street, all desperate to escape their daily drivel at the bottom of a keg. Two somewhat large males leaned against the entrance, shouting loud slurs of profanity you ignored while passing, hoping to fade into the background and evade any attention. Unfortunately, you were unsuccessful and soon after felt the eyes of distorted drunken desire bore into your back as your pace quickened.
âHey, gorgeous whereâs the fire?â The voice of pure rust and smoke made the hair on your neck stand up, their footsteps getting louder with the shrinking distance.Â
âOh, no manners baby? How refreshingâ The other let a slimy sick laugh leave him as his knotty hand finally caught hold of your forearm, whipping you back to face them, the beautiful fabric sailing to the floor to mop up a muddy puddle.
âLeave me the fuck alone!â The lines on your forehead deepened with disgust as you bent down to retrieve the dripping material.
âOrâŠâ The ever so slightly taller one caught you more roughly by the arm before hauling you forward, dragging you into the mouth of an alley, the other acting as reinforcement.
âLet go of me!â Pure panic left your voice, your head darting side to side for an out as your back was pressed into crumbling brick under your vibrating bones.
âYou have to give us a few things first babyâ One leaned forward into you as you braced, your wrist being crushed by the other fae, their movement suddenly halting with the addition of a new voice.Â
âI donât think sheâs interested fellasâ The three of you found your gaze darting towards the tall figure at the end of the alley, a shoulder resting against one wall, hands casually in his pockets as if he wasnât about to witness a crime against nature. The grip was released on one of your wrists, the taller male unmoving from in front of you while his accomplice began to square off to the still slightly obscured fae.Â
Your eyes dropped cautiously down to your side to your bag, trained nimbleness in your hands had you retrieving your fabric sheers, launching them immediately into the thigh of your current captor. A near-deafening roar was released alongside your other arm, the figure at the end of the alley instantly floored the other male with a wave of unseen power.Â
You scurried down the alley in the opposite direction of the three, your hands covered in a fine layer of blood that you wiped on your trembling thighs. A flush of heat came from behind you as you reached the mouth of the alley. A curious glance had you witness your perpetrators turned to mounds of ash, the sight turning your stomach into waves of unease. The thought of meeting a similar fate had your feet moving again, only to come flush against a wall-like figure.Â
âWhere are you going? No thank you?â Eris towered in front of you, a self-satisfied smile scanning unbeknownst to you for any sign of injury. Â
âI-um-than-k thank you, Generalâ The words were a rush of syllables followed by a deep curtsey, before you move down the street again, eager to get away from the infamous male. You heard Eris scoff a laugh before he spoke again.Â
âWell okay then Ice Princess, maybe next time Iâll leave you?âÂ
âDo you want a medal or something for doing the right thing?â Once again your tracks were stopped but this time by your own brazen words and the silence from behind you. Turning on the ball of your foot you reluctantly faced the future High Lord, his hands still in his pockets, lips pursed in thought. He could kill you for your insolence and no one would challenge him, you were not even sure anyone would notice you missing until their trousers reached their knees.
âHuh, cute-â He smirked, closing the distance between you in a few long strides â-maybe I do want a medalâ You found yourself scoffing at his words, a small blaze seemingly igniting in his eyes at the sound.Â
âGet in line, Generalâ A certain playfulness danced in his eyes at your teasing tone, normally not the response heâd elicit from others. You could feel something subtly different in the air, something missing from the mountainâs mist. âPlease, call me Eris, or Savouir, ladyâs choiceâ He outstretched a hand you somewhat hesitantly took, not going unnoticed by the son of Autumn. You realised on contact that it was the everpresent chill that you felt that had made its exit from you, flushes of warmth heating your cells gently. Eris turned your hand over in his, scanning over the callouses and their tinge of fresh maroon.Â
âA street fighter?â He laughed, eyes tracing the hardened skin. âDressmaker, for the Night Courtâ You smiled, taking your hand back, missing the steady pulse of heat his fingers supplied.
âLaborious crowdâ His laugh returned the missing warmth to your skin and you found yourself smiling back at the towering male.
âYN?â Your whole body shook at Lucienâs voice across the street, his arms full of freshly purchased supplies for his small apartment in the city. You looked between the two males as Lucien crossed the street to join your side, Erisâs smugness only growing. You and the Prince of Foxes were relatively new friends, his exit from the Spring Court required a whole new wardrobe that you skillfully made.
âStay away from her Erisâ âOh brother, save us the martyr actâ He sighed in almost boredom, amber gaze landing back on you where you could have sworn it softened, no matter how brief. That gentle element died when Lucienâs arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to his side.Â
âIs that blood on you YN?!â the closer proximity opened you to Lucienâs full mother-hen inspection.Â
âYes it is but not hers, quite the vicious little thing you have hereâ The air of self-righteousness returned to Eris, his best shield to whatever was bubbling deep beneath.Â
âThimble, what happened?â You noticed Eris subtle flinch at Lucienâs pet name for you as he attempted to ignore his brother's presence altogether. You hated the nickname, it made you feel small, and inexperienced, despite being older than Lucien. It began when he remarked on the coarseness of your hands on his skin during a fitting, suggesting a thimble may stave off further damage. You would never see the point in covering what your years of experience had rewarded you with, the scars on your hands were evidence of a master at work, and a thimble would only hide away your efforts although that was a recurring theme for you in the Night Court you felt.Â
âThimble seems an odd nickname, arenât they supposed to protect you from pricks? And yet here you are Lucienâ Your head lowered slightly to hide the deep smirk growing across your face at Erisâs dig, Lucien unable to continue to ignore him.
âIâll have you kn-â â-Lucien, we have to get back, Iâm not finished with a dressâ You cut across any possible rebuttal, eager to get out of the thick air between the two brothers, Lucien smiled softly at you before glaring back at Eris. You tilted your head to Eris again in an almost bow, twisting Lucienâs stomach as you began your fruitless journey back to Nesta.Â
âVery good little lapdog Lucien, Iâd watch her around scissorsâ He called after the two of you, his own amusement radiating from his voice.Â
-
The ball was organised chaos at best, swelling music and overserved fae had you hiding out in the corner of the venue. Not your normal scene however Nesta had begged you to come, if only to witness your beautiful work in action. You had sacrificed one of Feyreâs many dresses as donor fabric to patch together what you could of Nestaâs outfit, neglecting to tell her that of course.Â
âYN, this is so borrrrringâ Nesta found you through the crowds, sneaking away from her role at the dais alongside her sister. It had been a few hours since the incident, a glass of wine only taking a sliver of the tension you felt about it from you.Â
âDonât worry Nesta, hopefully it wonât be much loâŠâ you trailed off, your eyes snagging on Eris across the vast dance floor as he both dazzled and terrified the participants in the conversation he held.Â
âAt least heâs not bad to look atâ Nesta tilted her head to the side, inspecting her mission with curiosity as he glided through the crowd.
âLucien says heâs torturousâ
âBet heâs good in bedâ You elbowed her for her comment as she laughed, the whole conversation making you feel like giddy children.
âPerhaps heâll make a good pallet cleanser from Cassianâ she added. âCassian whoâs trying to melt him with his eyes right now, right?â You grinned, Nesta taking a stolen glance at the slowly boiling Illyrian. When Nesta wanted something, she got it and this very core defining personality trait of hers terrified you. You had been on board with the plan up until your own encounter with the heir and yet now you found yourself empathetic to Cassianâs jealousy, no matter how unfounded you felt it may be. The very voice that saved you earlier pulled your attention back into the room.Â
âHello again YN, I was wondering-â â-Who your friend is? Eris, have I really to remind you of my personâ Nesta tone leeched a pure sultry decorum you would never be able to mirror. Her body stood slightly in front of you, a hand extended to reacquaint herself with the High Fae, new beats of jealousy pulsed in your veins as they made contact. Your skin crawled and boiled all at once, further tension only being added by Cassian's surveying across the floor.Â
âGo find something to busy yourself with YNâ Her voice was firm but said with a smile, forever toeing the line between friend and employer. You watched as Nesta masterfully led Eris to the dance floor and began to light the room ablaze with her ease of movement. The room watched on as the two slotted into one another like a lock and a key, your eyes landed on your shoes, anywhere but on the scene in front of you.
âCâmon dear friend, let's see your movesâ You looked at the unfurled hand of your dear new friend in front of you, Lucienâs soft smile accompanying it. You laughed lightly as you allowed him to lead you to the dancefloor.Â
âAre you sure you wouldnât rather dance with Elain?â
âBut Iâd miss you stepping on my toesâ he teased as your head tilted back and laughed, despite knowing the answer to your question was of course yes. Now and then while being swirled by the Prince of Foxes, your eyes would cross the path of Erisâs before Nesta stole back the attention. A successful mission up until Cassianâs jealousy could no longer be snuffed out.
â--------------------------------------------------
The gentle pitter-patter of drizzle off the window pane of your workspace filled the room, your hands busy at work, humming along to a tune you heard weeks ago while dancing with Lucien. Back home in the warmest of colds available to you, squirrelled away in mounds of fabric and projects.Â
Your hands stilled at the din of distant shouting many floors up through the house. Often youâd ignore any rumblings from upstairs but the familiar sound of a male youâd spent your time trying to forget had your curious feet wandering in the direction of the source.Â
âYouâre incredulous!â âNo, you are!â You peeked through the gap in the huge door that led to one of the grand dining rooms, the two brothers in a stand-off across the large oak table, Rhysand glaring between the two.Â
âAnd you couldnât have stopped our dear darling father from travelling to Briallynâs continent?!â Lucien barked, the table shaking slightly. Cassian matched Lucienâs scowl towards Eris, who only allowed a sickly laugh to leave him.Â
âAnd expose myself and this little alliance? I donât think so little brother! Alec, our father's dear advisor is already getting too curious.âÂ
âOh no, nothing to inconvenience yourself!â You flinched slightly at Lucienâs razor-like tone.
âI have inconvenienced myself every day for you!â Erisâs hand shot forward in a dramatic gesture, knocking the large goblet of wine across the table, soaking Lucien as he leapt up from the cold.Â
âFuck! You did that on purpose!â He reached for his napkin to blot the deep stain with no success, Eris now also standing in his own defence.Â
âIt was an accident, much like your birth, do as I did and make peace with it!â Eris grinned until Lucien swished a wrist, a small ball of flame leaving his fingertips, singeing the jacket and waistband of Erisâs immaculate suit.Â
âLucien!â
âIt was an accidentâ Lucien mimicked, Rhysand now finding his own feet, feeling grateful not to have had any biological brothers.
âEnough! We must leave to meet the other High Lords in an hour and you two are squabbling like children! Lucien, go home and find a new pair of trousers-â Lucien very much looked the role of scolded schoolchild as he winnowed out before further reprimanding â- and you-â Rhysand turned full attention to Eris, who only rolled his shoulders back to accompany a raised eyebrow â-you go and find a curtain or something to wear because if you fuck this meeting up, I will kill you where you standâ
âAww do you promise-â Eris batted his eyelashes in faux excitement â-I donât take orders from youâ
âFine, go smelling like a bonfire, see if Rhys and I careâ Cassian shot out.Â
âPerhaps I left some clothes here after I visited with Nesta the other nightâ Cassian practically leapt from his chair, Rhysand catching hold of his forearm leaving Eris unshaken.Â
âEris, go be anywhere but hereâ
âIâd suggest down on your deathbed, I can help youâ Cassian chewed out accompanying Rhysandâs order.Â
âThe only place Iâd go down on is the lovely Nestaâ Rhysand released Cassian in an instant, springing the warrior over the table, your instinct having you whip the door back on its hinges, the entrance stilling Cassian in confusion as he caught Erisâs collar.Â
âIâll help make something!â You rushed out, unsure of why you were eager to rescue Eris even if it gave away your eavesdropping.Â
âYN, know your placeâ Rhysand warned.
âI mean- câmon S-sir you have to leave soon and let's be honest, thereâll be questions about why a lord of fire is-is emm burnedâŠor why his face is in pieces for that matterâ You watched Cassian release the wrinkled collar, exhaling deeply and jump from the dining table to the floor before striding over to you.Â
âAt least stab him a few times with pinsâÂ
âDealâ you laughed before standing aside in the doorway for Cassian and Rhysand to pass.Â
-
After arriving at your workroom, a flush of self-conscious energy rushed you at the mess you had been living and working in, now under the scrutiny of the son of Autumn. Towers of discarded and active projects cast shadows along the stone of the space, his eyes inspecting the smaller details of the room as you pulled out fabric rolls from the wall. You couldnât help but notice the warmth in the tall shadows not there previously, its addictive nature nipping at your skin.
âJacketâ You ordered, a hand out to take the sooty material, Eris obliging wholeheartedly, surprising even himself. He watched you inspect it closely, attempting to hide his wonder of you as you sighed. He thought how he would very much love to watch you work, how he may very well do anything you asked of him and how foreign that very feeling was. âSloppy stitching, conjured I suppose not handmade?â He nodded in confirmation to your question, doing his best to hide his amazement at your assessment.Â
âI donât think this is your colour-â â-Excuse you, this green is one of my court colours, how can it not be my colour?â Eris' anger startled you, snapping you out of your dressmaker autopilot, remembering your company. âSorry-I emm- not your tone shall we sayâ Your panicked voice was only silenced by a laugh from Eris.
âJust kidding YN, Iâm not offendedâ âJust a prickâ You whispered to yourself as you slipped a pin cushion over your wrist, Eris smiling from behind you. You pointed at the step riser in the corner of the room for Eris to stand on as you gathered your treasure trove of supplies.Â
âTake off your trousersâ You threaded the soft measuring tape through your fingers from behind him.Â
âNot going to buy me dinner first?â He raised his eyebrow to you with a grin you felt that maybe not everyone got to see, his hands undoing what was left of the waistband before he shook off the fragile fabric, leaving him in his undergarments. You took a deep quiet breath before sinking to crouch alongside him, measuring the length of his leg.
âOn your knees so soonâ You stood instantly again, pushing him playfully, stilling almost as soon as you had moved.Â
âSorry I-â â-I wonât bite you YN, not unless you askâ he winked, causing you to bite the inside of your cheek begging your body not to grin back, instead just resuming your measurements. âI should have let Cassian kill youâ You whispered by his calf as he looked down at you.Â
âThere she is, thereâs whoâs fun to play withâ You could hear his smile, just as you took a pin from the holder strapped to your wrist, poking him into his ankle. He hissed, rolling his ankle slightly away from you as you stood again.Â
âThat was for the Nesta commentsâ You put the pin into the cuff of your sleeve, retrieving your scissors and cutting strips of a deep red fabric without the measure, all the knowledge within your head accompanied with years of skill.Â
âI was just bored and the big bat is an easy target. I have no intentions of pursuing Lady Death, donât be jealousâ He watched you in the mirror as if afraid to blink and youâd disappear. You forced your focus closer to your cutting, Eris slipping from the step to stalk closer to you.
âWhy would I be jealous? I don't even know youâ âOdd, I feel like I know you⊠but regardless, Iâd imagine youâd be jealous if your relationship with my darling brother isnât all you want it to beâ You whipped around to him in shock, scissors still in hand. Eris put his hands up in faux surrender while glancing at the scissors, your eyes rolling again, placing the instrument behind you.Â
âWhat? Me and Lucien?â You laughed wholeheartedly, Eris tilting his head to the sound, stepping from the riser.Â
âNo?â âNow whoâs jealous?â he only scoffed at you in reply.Â
âHeirs do not get jealous, they get what they wantâ His somewhat serious tone sent a shiver down your spine, the distance seemingly shrinking between you.
âAnd what does this heir want?â âHmmâ he hummed leaning forward into the gap, that tempting heat pulling you towards him, every cell screaming for the temperature in your skin to increase, to meet with his, to reach inferno.
âYN, do you have a spare-whatâs going on in here?â Lucien stood in the doorway, his suit jacket in his hand, a missing button by the collar.Â
âEver the best for timing dear brotherâ Eris squared his stance, turning to face his kin as you wished the earth to swallow you whole.
âLet's not get into it in front of the Lady.-â Lucien rolled his shoulders back, unshaken by the sharp tone of his brother â-Thimble, please could you reattach this button? It was the one I used magic to affix and you were right, it didnât holdâ You gave a soft smile, taking it from his hands, reluctantly crossing the path between the two.Â
âCome, dear brother, leave my lovely YN to workâ Lucien stood back in the doorway to leave space for Eris to pass. A rush of intense heat radiated from Eris at his brother's endearment towards you, his knuckles cracking as fists formed.Â
âWonât you need me for the rest of the fitting?â He looked at you, eyes asking you to beg him to stay.
âI-â â-YN is used to finishing projects down here without the muse, she works better alone right YN?â You nodded slightly at Lucien, his voice no longer toeing the line between friend and employer, the latter taking full effect. You sank back to your work table, tacking together the fabric as Lucien guided Eris away from you, Eris slipped back on the remnants of his trousers before reluctantly leaving. The cold rushed to your bones again as the faint sound of their bickering filled the halls.Â
â-------------------------------
Two weeks later
Thoughts of Eris crossed your mind while looking down on the vast woodland of coppers and bronze through a window taller than him. The flickers of rust and chestnut hues pulled you towards them like a moth to flame. You had never been in an environment like it, so famously cold but surprisingly warming to your inner world. Beron had insisted on holding a dinner with Night Court in his home, still believing his trip to Briallynâs continent was undiscovered.Â
âOkay, we go, we hear what nonsense heâs peddling and we compare notes when we get home?â The Inner circle nodded in agreement to their High Lord as he knotted his cufflink into place before outstretching the same hand for you to adjust. Just as quick Nesta called for your attention as Azriel covered a more specific game plan. Nesta had insisted you accompany her, and help to ready her for the meeting, no matter how many times you reminded her that that was very much so not part of your job.Â
âIt's fine YN stop fidgeting!â She snapped at you, tugging the end of her dress from your grip before she leapt from the riser to take Cassianâs arm as they moved to leave for dinner. You knew she didnât mean to take you so sharply, she was just stressed, they were all stressed. They were always stressed, they never meant to snap at you, or at least that's what you convinced yourself of.
âWe should have left you home where you would be safeâ Lucien said softly, pulling you from the step riser again, his thumb sweeping over the back of your hand. You couldnât help but notice how different his touch was from Eris, and how you wished it was him with you now not Lucien.Â
âStay here YN, I hate it here as much as you, Iâll be as quick as I can back to youâ He gave another smile before following the Inner Circle, closing the heavy door behind him. Did you hate it here, you wondered as you wandered around the room at the edge of Forest House, secluded away as you always were in these venues.Â
You couldnât help but listen to a vibrant voice in the back of your mind, beckoning you to come out and play.Â
The distant echos of grandeur filled the halls from the dining room at the opposite end of the hall as you crept down the stoneway in the opposite direction. Before realising it, you step to a servant entrance of the grand house, whispers of Autumn guiding you through a place so new yet familiar. Your fingertips hardly made contact with the bronze of the handle before a large weight was thrown deep into your side. Overwhelming, almost suffocating heat swallowed the screams you shrieked, accompanied by a heavy hand as all pulled you from the hallway to an adjacent hallway pantry.
âWhat the fuck are you doing here?!â Eris released his hold on you, a flicker of flame leaking from his hand illuminating the closet. You doubled over, arms swaddling your stomach as you caught the breath shocked out of you. Eris's characteristic ironing-board-like posture softened at the sight.
âI-I didnât mean to frighten youâÂ
âWhat-what the-â Erisâs hand reached for your arm, worry radiating before you cut off the action â-what the fuck is wrong with you?! You donât just grab someone like that!â You righted yourself again, hands finding your hips as the oxygen found your lungs again.Â
âOh, youâre okay, I thought you lost your damn fucking mind coming here!â unfamiliar sharpness crossed his tongue as you scoffed at his heated whisper.Â
âIâm here workingâ âWorking? Those morons have no idea what bringing you here could cause!â His hands ran through his hair in frustration, the light flickering with the movement.Â
âI wonât cause anything!-â You watched him drag his hands from his hair down his face in pure exasperation â-except it seems a headache for youâ You grinned and as much as he fought it, he mirrored you. Â
âArenât you supposed to be at the dinner?â âAnd arenât you supposed to be in your cave of endless fabric?â You rolled your eyes at his rebuttal, moving to pass him only to have a soft touch take hold of your arm. The thud of a palm-sized book tumbling out of his pocket had both your gazes dropping. Surprisingly, you were first to retrieve the ornate book, its cover decorated with expansive drawings of the wood surrounding the Forest House.Â
âYour diary?â You grinned, offering it back to him.Â
âItâs actuallyâŠitâs actually nothingâ You pulled it back into you at his ever so slightly panicked tone.
âSo it is your diary?â You laughed gently, a slight rush of red growing across the Prince of Autumn's cheeks.Â
âIts-its a collection of..of poetry Iâm working onâ He admitted, fighting his way through growing embarrassment as his eyes fixated on the leather in your hand. You smiled down again at the cover, at the idea of a softer Eris locked behind these pages, a glimpse into his world.
âWe have to get you out of hereâ He said abruptly, as if eager to shift topics away from his hidden hobby. âFine, Iâll ask Lucien to bring me back thereâ A pulse of heat radiated between you.
âIâll bring youâÂ
âWonât that impact the whole double agent incognito thingâ You smirked, trying your best to not look down towards his gentle hold on you.Â
âIâm sure if I murdered Lucien that would impact things moreâÂ
âRemember Eris, I told you that shade of green wasnât your colourâ Silence swaddled the forgotten closet.
âThatâs the first time youâve said my nameâ The sound of his moniker sent Erisâs grip tightening slightly on your arm. âIâm sorry, was it saviour you preferred?â You hardly whispered, the swift movement that followed had your back pressed into the adjacent wall, Erisâs hand resting above your head, trapping you in the addictive warmth.
âAs long as Iâm the one you call for, I donât care what you call meâ he allowed himself to confess.
âThis feels like a mistakeâÂ
âSo was trying to hurt you, I enjoyed every lick of flame that torched those males YN and if it had been any other male other than my brother to dance with you that night they would have met a similar fateâ Erisâs smoky voice admitted quietly, amber eyes trapping you in their heat. A warm palm found its way to your waist, ushering you closer to the High Fae behind the walls of an enemy Court.
âSo you were jealous?â âShut up and let me kiss youâ Every drop of your blood was heated with the perfect pressure that met your lips and your hand instinctively took a fistful of his shirt pulling him tighter into you. You felt his fingers knot deeply into your hair as his other hand tightened its grip, your mouths slotting over one another in perfect synchronicity.Â
âYouâre so delicate YN, your Courtâs best kept secret and this world's greatest beauty, I feel like a moth to your flame-â Erisâs voice came out husky, starved for your touch â-I couldnât explain it to myself why I felt like walking around that cursed city that day, the Mother must have known Iâd meet you, that I would be drawn to you, that I burn for youâ his thumb brushed over your cheek as you rested your head in the palm of his hand. A rush of cold met your skin as Eris fully pulled from you, your balance rocking slightly.
âDid-did I do something?â Eris sighed at your words, a hand tracing through his hair before he turned to face you, eyes ablaze.Â
âI-I really feel like you may be worth every risk in this entire world but I am not and I will not risk your safety for my own desireâÂ
âI can protect myself Erisâ âNot from what would seek you out because of meâ The both of you stayed in studied silence for a moment, just observing one another and the energy shift between you both.Â
âMy court will protect meâ a low sound growled from Eris's throat in response to you.
âYou mean my brother will protect you? The others care not for anyone but those in their precious inner sanctumâÂ
âThatâs not true, Iâm their friend!â You snapped back, your voice rising above a crackled whisper in anger. The words pinged an idea directly into Erisâs head, his way to push you away. âYouâre their employee! They take you for granted! You canât honestly say they treat you well can you? Do you think theyâd keep you around if you lost your use to them? Their loyalty is conditional, they canât be relied on!â A truth you frequently ignored washed over you, too much to take.
âYouâve been away from the table too long General, I must return to workâ You offered the almost forgotten book in your hands back to him, his eyes only moving from the binding to your eyes. You scoffed again before moving as quickly as he had brought you to this secluded closet, rushing your away from the heat you wanted to be swaddled in forever. You tucked the tiny book into your sock beneath your dress, perhaps that was his goodbye gift to you you thought. Your path was then interrupted around the corner of the secret haven by the feeling of your body crashing into the solid pushback of metal, your hips meeting the plush carpet.Â
âWhat do we have here?â You looked up through your eyelashes at the striking male, his broad shoulders shrouded in thick copper metal, the Autumn court of arms across his breast.Â
You pushed up off the ground, doing your best to ignore your bruised tailbone. The broad, older male scanned you, his eyes snagging on your Courtâs emblem stitched into your sleeve.Â
âAnd tell me, what would a member of the Night Court be doing out of the designated area?âÂ
âI-I was looking for-for the bathroomâ He towered over you, the smell of soot and tinder filling your airways, thick enough to choke on. He stretched out a gloved hand, lights flickering in his eyes like a sparking fire. Before you could take his hand, they curled around your wrist, hauling you forward.Â
âAnd yet, I don't believe youâ razor words said with a razor grin nicked at your nerves beneath your uniform.Â
âWould-would I lie to you sir?â You sank into the lowest curtsey you could manage while still tethered to the burly male. You could feel your fingertips turn blue as the gloved hand took a tighter hold, your voice fighting not to croak as you spoke again.Â
âI-I must return to my High LordâÂ
âI donât think so, this little exploration of yours must be reportedâ Alec snarled down at you, flicking his wrist sending yours back in a conflicting direction, a small yelp leaving your throat. âYN?â The two of you looked to find Lucien, stunned expression turning steely as he looked towards the hold a member of his former Court held on your wrist. He made short work of the distance between you, his warmed hand taking your opposite wrist.
âUnhand this Lady!â He barked.
âLady? She is staff, staff that was where she shouldnât have been!â Your head dipped at the ever-present reminder of your differences. Lucien scanned you briefly, a subtly deep intake of air had the scent of Autumn wind and campfire flooding his senses, his brother's scent on you.Â
âI perhaps agree with you for once-â Lucien whispered down to you, words tainted with disappointment â-but regardless, she will come with me and her High Lord will take care of mattersâ Alec's grip only tightened further as Lucien attempted to pull you to his side, another wince decorating your face.Â
âNot before my High Lord has a chance to examine what she may have learnedâ
âWhat was I going to learn in the bathroom, his Lordship's haircare routine?â Your words surprised you as much as anyone but not as much as the feeling of cracked leather meeting the side of your face, knocking you down to the plush carpet, out of Luciens hold. The side of your cheek felt as though it instantly began to swell, it matched your eyes as tears threatened to fall over the rim. You didnât stay down for long, Alec hauling you back to your feet by your cracking wrist joint. You could feel the blood run from your lips, your skin fighting to stitch together and failing. Black blotted your vision competing for the greatest pain with your wrist.
âThis female is to be brought before the Lord of Autumn. You have no authority here, run along to your master, she comes with meâ Thatâs all you could hear before the black blots overtook the beautiful brass and copper of the Court of Autumn, no longer able to support your own weight.Â
â-----------
The low crackle of a cruel flame filled your ears as an unnatural chill stretched from the icy flame. Your eyes flickered like the fire across from your cell, doing your best to come around from the sadistic maleâs brutality. The cracking of brickwork met your back as you leaned into it, uncurling your legs from the ball of protection you had attempted to make. The depth of Forest House, far far away from the kind forest spirit voices that beckoned you to play, now replaced with the pained groans of other enemies to Autumn.Â
âWakey wakeyâ You rolled your head along the stone, supporting its weight as you looked to see the ever-feared Lord of Autumn standing on the other side of the brass caging. The metal shuddered as the guards opened them for their master. You lowered your head slightly, trying to win any favour with Beron, his low laugh your reward.Â
âAnything to say for yourself?â You looked back up, fear stealing your voice as he stepped in closer, your bones rattling lowly off the stone beneath you.Â
âNo? Funny, you seem to have plenty of thoughts to write aboutâ âEx-excuse me, Lord?â You said quietly, your eyes then landing on the pocket-sized notebook in his cruel hands. You looked between it and its new holder, evident panic on your face, quickly exchanged for pure pain as the Lord of Autumn suddenly shot forward, pressing your body into the cold stone, his grip clutching your throat.Â
âBeautiful sonnets and poems and prose, all with the very strong theme of escaping my beautiful court, destroying my beautiful legacy, running off with a beautiful forbidden creature, an accomplice of yours?â His even tone of pure ice contradicted the flaming heat beating through his hands to your throat. Heâd kill his heir for his words, destroy him, torture him, make him beg, the idea of any of those outcomes unthinkable to you.
âDo not, DO NOT try to deny itâ He tried again, crushing some air from your windpipe free.Â
âFather!â Eris bellowed suddenly from behind, a small ease in pressure on your skin.
âMake yourself scarce Eris, Iâm busyâ His blackened eyes didnât leave your bloodshot ones.Â
âWhat are her charges?â Eris tried his best to keep the desperate tone at bay, Beron only held out the tiny notebook to his side, his other hand still gripping you. You watched as Eris turned practically to match the colour of your own oxygen-starved skin.Â
âAnd she-she has admitted to that being hers?â âShe was about to before your interruption!â He barked back at his eldest son, before allowing enough air into your lungs so you may speak. You looked over his shoulder to the Heir of Autumn, his eyes sunken in from worry or lack of sleep or both, you werenât sure. You werenât even sure how long you had been down there, how long before your Court would come for you if they even would come. These questions plagued you endlessly and now you were finally about to meet your end, your answer of who would come if you really needed help answered right in front of you in the russet eyes of a male you took stolen moments with. The male who believed himself not worthy of anything other than pain. You would not die with him believing this.Â
âItâs min-â Your rasped lie cut off a flush of heat pulsating around the entire cell, Beronâs gaze snapping back to his son, a full release of pressure met your throat, your body sank to the ground, muscles screaming out for the rush of returning oxygen. You propped yourself up on your well-worn hands, fighting away blurry vision. Eris stood, shoulders settled back, flames like globes in his hands.Â
âAlec, thatâs Alecâs, there's more in his quarters. Go search them and youâll see, no need to declare war with Night Court by slaughtering one of their courtiersâ Pure confidence beamed from Eris, a grin then decorating his face as his father tilted his head in thought.Â
âThink about it Father, it has to be someone with more access than a dressmaker? Someone with the intelligence to weave plots into poems, do you really think that a female would be capable of such?â Your heavy breath remained down towards the brick floor you looked down to, its small stones breaking away and burying into your palms and knees. You knew he saw you as more than that, and you trusted that he saw you as more than your court saw you as. You trusted him you realised. You heard Beron hum in quiet contemplation before looking back towards you, your hair matted in knots, uniform in tatters, the perfect image of weakness he believed all females had. Beron gestured quickly with his chin, his armed guards launching into action to search the quarters, no doubt going to find carefully planted prose and poems, damming in their divinity.Â
âA dressmaker?â Beron questioned you once again, his head tilting as you nodded gently towards the stone, unable to lift your dizzying head.Â
âUseless skillâ He spat down before sinking a heavy, steel-soled boot flush with your right hand. Blood rushed to your ears as the little oxygen in your lungs escaped as a deafening roar, drowning out the sound of your breaking bones. The ring of bruises gifted to you by Alec on your other wrist clutched your shattered hand into your chest.
âYou may finish her off Eris, your reward for your observant nature, I must see to the searchâ He smirked at his son who fought to keep his mouth from hanging open and flame from fleeing his fists. Beron sank into the fire, leaving his heir and his prisoner. Eris crashed to your side, his warm hands supporting your shoulders as you cried out.Â
âIâm sorry YN, Iâm so sorry, Iâm sorryâ He whispered into your hair, your sobs drowning in his chest. A swirl of comforting flame swaddled you both as Eris pulled you both through the heat to the outskirts of the wood surrounding Forest House.Â
The Forest air was as refreshing as any of the elements as you landed gently in the clearing, Erisâs arms supporting your weight as he clung you into him.Â
âTheyâll be here soon my loveâ He gave a small saddened smile into the crown of your hair, causing you to pull back to look up at him.Â
âWhat?â You managed, the movement of even speaking amplifying the pain in your digits. Another whoosh of air filled the clearing, Lucien quick to your side accompanied by Azriel, colour draining from the Shadowsingerâs face at the overly familiar sight of your hands.Â
âGo with them YN, theyâll protect youâ Eris attempted another smile as you looked from him to his brother, who tried and failed to hide his worry.Â
âI want- I want to stay with you Erisâ âLook at what happens when you stay with me YN, nothing good ever comes from this placeâ âBut you came from this placeâ You cried out, your legs trembling again, Erisâs arm slipped around your waist again, Lucien unfamiliar with this side of his brother.Â
âI told you Iâm only going to bring you painâ âAnd I-I told you green wasnât one of your colours, we can both be wrong sometimesâ You laughed lightly through your tears, fighting your instincts to look down at your hands. Eris brushed a thumb over your cheek, keeping a stray tear from falling before pressing his lips to your forehead.Â
âI have to leave you YN, I have to make sure Alec learns his lesson, the same one I will teach my father one day and anyone who dares to harm youâ He searched through your eyes before stepping back, allowing Lucien to wrap his arm around you to support your body, Azriel placing a small cloth over your hand to shield you from the full extent of the damage. Eris traced the rings of bruising on your uncovered wrist, further cementing his decision. Azrielâs eyes scanned, watching for signs you had all been discovered and finding the distant sounds of guards beginning to storm towards them.Â
âWe have to goâ Azriel ordered, Eris and Lucien both nodding.Â
âEris, please, please come with usâ You begged through sobs.Â
âOne day YN, one day Iâll show you this Court when itâs something Iâm proud of, Iâll show you all of who I am, when itâs something Iâm proud ofâ He brought the back of your hand to his lips, only to have you suddenly pull it back before launching forward towards him. His lips on yours felt like a warm hearth, like home, his soothing heat warming the world you always thought was meant to be cold.Â
âI was jealousâ He admitted with his signature smirk as he parted from you, his hand running down your tangled hair receiving a light laugh from you as Lucien reluctantly pulled you back.Â
âWe have to go, theyâre closeâ Azriel took your weight, hesitantly taking you some distance away from Eris, leaving Lucien and Eris with some space between them.Â
âI will look after your mate brotherâ Eris only nodded in return before stealing another glance at you and sinking into flame.Â
--------------------------------------------------
Whatcha think? Hehehehe
#a court of thorns and roses#acomaf#acosf#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar fic#acotar fluff#acotar x reader#acotar x y/n#acotar x you#eris vanserra#eris x reader#eris acotar#eris x y/n#eris x you#eris#autumn#autumn court#eris vandaddy#eris x oc#eris vanserra x reader#eris vanserra x you#eris fanfic#eris imagine#eris vanserra acotar#eris vanserra fic#acotar fandom#pro eris vanserra#high lord eris#autumn court heir
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DPxDC - Missing Persons
also on AO3
It started so quietly no one really noticed.
People were disappearing. A veteran from the mountains, a firefighter from the city, a surfer from the coast, and on and on. All gone without a trace. The local authorities investigated, of course, but they never found any leads. After some time, the people were simply written off as missing, and their communities moved on. They remained forgotten until the Justice League got involved. Their systems flagged the uptick in disappearances, and once a Bat took a look, they were immediately suspicious. It took another Bat before the link was finally found. And it took Red Hood disappearing to confirm it. The missing people all had previous close calls with death. And so the League followed protocol â they announced an investigation.
The disappearances stopped.
It was a relief at first. There were far too many people who fit the profile, and none of their analysis could discern a usable pattern from the previous disappearances. But as time stretched on, they got nervous. Surely whatever this was wouldnât just stop once noticed? What was going to happen next, and when? Justice League Dark got involved. Only once John Constantine started poking around did they find a lead, and even then only thanks to dumb luck.
When Constantine was finally dragged to the town where one of the early disappearances occurred, he zeroed in on an old woman living in a care home. As it turned out, she was mildly magically sensitive. Apparently her grandmother was a witch or something of that sort. But crucially, she had suffered a nearly fatal heart attack almost a decade ago. And she was all too happy to talk about the ânice young manâ from her dream who offered to take her away.
She granted Constantine permission to dive into her memory to learn more. Whatever he learned did not make him happy. He said heâd be back after a quick trip to Hell and disappeared, much to Batmanâs irritation. But true to his word, surprising some, he returned with slightly singed clothes and a book.
So here he was, chalking sigils onto the floor. Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Green Lantern watched him work in silence, likely trying to wrap their minds around the fact that there was a so-called Ghost King who they were about to request an audience with. Constantine finished up his work and stood at what they all assumed was the front of the circle he had just drawn.
âI do all the talking, yeah? These ones can be tricky.â
Without waiting for a response, he waved his hand, magic glowing at his palm. The circle responded in kind, pulsing white then fading into a harsh, vibrant green. A large black, green, and red elaborately-decorated sarcophagus rose inside the circle, appearing to phase straight through the floor.
âDramatic fuckers, eh?â Constantine muttered.
A thick fog billowed out alongside it, quickly surging out past the boundary of the circle. It spread upward, threatening to fill the entire room. Constantine cursed to himself and waved an arm, clearing out the fog around them even as it thickened throughout the rest of the room, obscuring the view of the ceiling and walls save for the door directly behind them.
A deep voice echoed through the room with no discernible source. Everyone tensed.
âWho would dare wake the sleeping tyrant?â
A pair of bright green slits appeared from the depths of the fog and widened into eyes.
âEugh, itâs you.â
The voice lost its echo. It sounded annoyed but entirely human and...young? That didnât stop Constantine from clenching a hand into a fist, charging magic and preparing for an attack. The eyes moved closer, revealing a pale face and snow-white hair that floated in an unfelt breeze.
âPeace, Hellblazer.â
A lanky figure stepped forward onto the sarcophagus from where they were floating. They wore all black save for their white gloves, white boots, and previously visible head. With an audible thunk they plopped down on the foot of the sarcophagus, one leg bent upward to rest their chin on and wrap their arms around.
âI mean you no harm.â
There was a pause as the others waited to see how Constantine would respond.
âWe met?â
âNo, but I know of you. And I must admit, Iâm disappointed to see you working with the likes of them.â
They gestured to the others in the room.
âYeah, well,â Constantine relaxed his fist but lost none of his tension, âDonât meet your heroes.â
The stranger scoffed.
âDonât flatter yourself. I just enjoy seeing demons annoyed.â
There was another tense pause as the stranger lazily looked over all those present. Constantine broke the silence again.
âWho might you be, then?â
The stranger slowly dragged their gaze away from Wonder Woman and back to the magician. After a pause they spoke.
âYou may call me Ambassador.â
âAmbassador to ghosts?â
âIf youâd like to think of it that way.â
Constantine straightened his posture.
âWe would like to formally request an audience with His Majesty The King to discuss what we suspect is ghost activity in our world.â
The ambassador stared back in silence with squinted eyes before sighing and thumping their forehead to their knee.
âWhere to even beginâŠâ they whispered to themselves.
âOkay, letâs start with this.â They slapped the side of the sarcophagus and looked up. âWhat part of âsleeping tyrantâ wasnât clear?â
âI was under the impression His Majesty was recently crowned and well-respected?â
The ambassador pinched the bridge of their nose and groaned.
âAncients...â
They hopped to the ground without warning, causing everyone to flinch into defensive stances. If the ambassador noticed, they gave no indication.
âThe king is a tyrant, he is trapped in forever sleep again, and Iâd like to keep it that way this time.â
Constantine opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted before he got a chance.
âSpeaking of which, howâd you even summon him?â
âSummon?â Constantine choked out, clearly surprised.
The ambassador walked toward Constantine, making everyone save for him slide backwards a step. They looked down at the chalk marks on the floor.
âAncients, this is archaic. Whereâd you find it?â
After a few seconds of silence, the ambassador looked up at Constantine.
âWell?â
âAh...Merlin.â
The ambassador raised an eyebrow.
âWhat? Itâs bloody true!â
The ambassador huffed out a laugh and walked back to lean against the sarcophagus and cross their arms.
âCanât fault his demonology, but this circle is Bad. I suggest you lose it.â
Constantine opened his mouth to speak, but was once again interrupted, this time from an unfamiliar voice echoing through the room.
âLord Phantom.â
Everyone flinched as a set of black armor coated in purple flames stepped into view from the fog.
ââSup Frighty?â
âThe dark one is marked.â
The ambassador flicked their eyes to Batman and stared for several tense seconds.
âSo he is. Just like the other one, but actually concealed. Must be barely contaminated.â
The ambassador squinted and tilted their head.
âSure enough. Itâs weak, but thereâs a family bond there.â
Batman clenched his fist.
âWhere is Red Hood?â
The ambassador straightened their head, unflinching and unblinking.
âSafe. And being cared for.â
Before Batman could respond, yet another voice echoed from the fog.
âThese are the ones?â
The ambassador turned their back to Batman and groaned.
âIs anyone not coming?â
A giant, four-armed, blue-skinned, armor-clad woman stepped out of the fog with two sets of crossed arms. She had the smallest smirk on her face.
âApologies. I wished to see those who would obstruct our evacuation.â
Superman and Green Lantern perked up and shared a short look of confusion. The woman turned her head to Wonder Woman, her smirk replaced with a grimace.
âI am disappointed to see one of my kin among them.â
âI thought she might be, but I wasnât sure.â
Wonder Woman stepped forward.
âMy Lady, I ââ
âYou were not asked to speak, Child.â The woman snapped.
Her voice shook the floor underneath them. Wonder Woman flinched and stared up at her with wide eyes. The heroes tensed for a fight. But to their shock, Wonder Woman slowly raised her arm to press a fist over her heart and bowed her head in deference.
âI will make my displeasure known,â the woman growled, voice still angry but no longer violently.
âTake Dora with you.â
âDo you think me unable to fend for myself, Little One?â Her mouth curved up into a fond smirk again.
âI know better than to doubt you,â they briefly smirked back, âbut given my limited experience, I donât hold them in high regard.â
After a pause they tacked on a âno offenseâ.
âNone taken.â
The woman stepped backwards and faded into the fog. Superman took a step forward, eyeing the armor cautiously.
âAmbassador, my apologies for our unpleasant first meeting.â
He waited until the ambassador gave him a slight nod.
âMay I inquire what your companion meant by âevacuationâ?â
âExactly what she said. Our kind are being hunted, and we are trying to save them.â
âIn that case I must apologize again. We were not aware of this unfortunate situation. Had we been provided an explanation, we would ââ
âTypical,â the ambassador scoffed, âyour primary patron government is committing a genocide, and yet weâre at fault for not properly informing you.â
Superman was smart enough to bite back his standard âweâre independentâ retort. Green Lantern stepped forward instead.
âIf I may, Ambassador, my name is Hal Jordan. I am a member of the Green Lantern Corps. We are a wholly independent organization dedicated to peacekeeping across the galaxy.â
The ambassador looked him up and down slowly before turning their head away dismissively.
âI donât talk to cops.â
The heroes were stunned to silence. The ambassador turned to the floating armor.
âPrepare the Keep. Iâll ward against this circle once the sarcophagus is back in its place.â
âMy Lord.â
The armor bowed its head then faded into the fog. Batman stepped forward.
âWe have no involvement in the violence against you or your kind.â
The ambassador turned to stare at Batman for several seconds, squinted eyes glowing brightly.
âYouâre an excellent liar, Batman.â The fog crept forward and wrapped around their legs. âUnfortunately, I know youâre full of shit.â
âWhat points you to that conclusion?â Batman kept his voice neutral and steady.
The fog had risen to the ambassadorâs chest. They scoffed.
âThere are photos of you with Amanda Waller.â
Batmanâs fist clenched harder.
The ambassador turned to look at Constantine as the fog enveloped them, leaving two glowing green spots.
âI suggest you not push this any further, Laughing Magician. There are some things in this universe that trump even your luck.â
The glowing green eyes closed, and the fog faded away, leaving an empty summoning circle and untouched room. After several seconds of silence, Wonder Woman finally raised her head and spoke.
âI must return to Themyscira, perhaps for some time. If that was who I believe it to be...something has gone very wrong.â
Superman glanced over the others, who were all still silently processing the encounter. He turned back to Wonder Woman to give her a nod, and she quickly walked out of the room.
Constantine reached into his coat and pulled out his flask. He unscrewed the cap with a heavy sigh and downed whatever was left. He looked tired and annoyed, same as he always did. But Batman could tell he was shaken.
He looked away from Constantine and back to the empty circle again. There was a lot of concerning information to process, but one key thing did slip through. The knight had called the stranger âPhantomâ. He had come across that name once before. One of three legible words on a burnt piece of paper in an abandoned and destroyed facility. A facility that stank of a classified government cover-up. A facility Waller had sworn up and down she knew nothing about. But he had a lead. The other two words. Amity Park. A small town that only existed if you looked at paper maps printed several years ago.
He had to act quickly.
#dp x dc#dpxdc#my writing#not sure where this idea came from#dont know where it goes from here#but i think itd be funny if batman clocks danny#cuz he hears him say 'i dont talk to cops'#bonus points if its to dick/nightwing
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âThe tow truck driver?!â
synopsis : Incoming text from - Toji đ» âi wasnt gonna tell you, but youâre fucking hot. but im honestly a hoe and only want one thing.. đđŠâ
cw: daddy kink, fingering, head (giving/reciving), brat taming?, f!reader
the check engine light has been on for the past month, but youâve repeatedly ignored it. If it ainât broke, donât fix it, right? well, your consistent neglect of the light has landed you in this situation.Â
stranded on the shoulder of the highway waiting for some shady tow truck driver to come to your rescue, he was your cheapest option, and when you saw his old beat up truck speeding towards you, you quickly understood why. he came to a stop as he approached, rolling down his passenger window to get a good look at you.Â
âyou [âż]?â, the brown rust corroded the hood of his car, causing flakes to peel off with the wind. you canât even imagine what the truck couldâve looked like in it's glory, it was hard to believe years of neglect left the truck in this stateâ it's almost like he bought it this way. âyeah,â you answered, âare you toji?â
âwhatâs it look like?â you search the truck to see the faded out: âTojiâs Towingâ. âohâ
âya waitinâ for an invite?â
you open the car door to see crumbled-up wrappers from obscure burger joints and empty beer cansâthe rubbish, let alone the smell of *sniff* *sniff*⊠man contorted your face. toji mustâve taken notice of this because it made him chuckle. âexcuse the mess, sweetheart,â his raspy voice curling over his words, âyou donât mind, do ya?â
ânot at all,â you awkwardly smile. you felt kind of bad for him, honestly. he hooked his crane up to the front of your car and, before pulling off, lit a cigarette. his shoulders were broad and his arms looked strong and heavy, he didnât have an AC in his car, either that or it didnât work, so the hot summer air blew in both of your facesÂ
his black locks stayed all but too far from his face, allowing you to get a glimpse of the scar that marks his lip, his emerald eyes focusing on the road ahead.Â
you felt weird for staring at him after a while and didnât want him to notice, so you averted your gaze to the road, watching the cars pass by you two. you wondered though, how could a hunk like him get in this position.Â
âso, you grew upâround here?â He asks
âa little ways from here, i stay with my mom in a duplexâ
ânice, where ya cominâ from?â
âmy job, i work as a barista at the mallâ
âsâ bit far for work donât you thinkâ
you smile at how easily he set himself up, âyou drive a tow truckâ
you turn towards him to see a smirk creeping up on his face, he blows out smoke and holds his cigarette out
âfair,â he pulls another drag before putting it out in what you can only assume to be a homemade ashtray, âyou got anyone that can look at this for ya at home?â he says gesturing towards your car
âmm no, i was gonna take it to the shopâ
he clicks his teeth and sneers, âthose punks donât know the first thing about carsâ
âwhere do you think i should go then?â
he glances over at you before returning his attention to the road, âiâll look at it for yaâ
â
after that convo the rest of the drive was silent, though you both exchanged stolen glances here and there. you tried to tell yourself it was nothing to overthink, though the stirs in your stomach were telling you otherwise. it was hard to act like having an older manâs attention wasnât somewhat enticingÂ
when he finally got to your house, he backed your car into the driveway. you couldnât help but feel a slight sense of relief. though it was nice talking to him, you couldnât wait to get out of that dump of a tow truck. it made you consider taking those AAA charges next timeÂ
he steps out of the truck and walks around to let you out. when you see his full body for the first time, youâre a bit taken aback. sure he looked ok in the truck, but he looked even better out of it. he had a tall muscular build, and he had to be around 6 feet. how was his truck hiding so much height from your eyes? You shook any remaining amazement from your face and stepped out, hurrying past him to try and avert your gaze
âso what happened anyways, whatâs wrong with it?â he immediately walks past you to your car and starts inspecting it
âthe engine light was on but.. i thought it would just go away on its own..â you reluctantly admit
âsilly girl,â the rasp in his voice making your heart jump, âyou shouldâve taken thisât the shop when you first saw itâ he struts over to you and lays his hand out, you look at his hand and then back up to his captivating eyes, âthe keys?â he says.
âoh, yeah, right, rightâ you hand him the keys, and he turns the car on, popping the hood. you watch as his clothes cling to him, his long, black hair hanging over his face as he inspects different parts of your engine. you notice as he reaches into the engine, his tanned hands become stained with a black substance. itâs kinda hot. when you actually get a good look at him at this angle⊠he isnât a bad-looking guy, heâs a little ruff around the edges, sure, but you like that about him
âi might haveâta take this to my shop, really gotta get under there nâfigure out whatâs going onâ
you could name something else you wanted him to get under too, but you quickly shoved that thought in your back pocket, âhow much is that gonna beâÂ
âusually i charge a pretty penny but for you,â he says while wiping his hands on a dirty rag that was stuffed in his pocket, âiâll do it for freeâ
âreally? oh my god thank you so muchâ
âsâno problem doll, i should probably get going before it gets too dark thoughâ
you can feel your heart pounding from anticipation not quite wanting him to leave yet
ây-yeah sure, but um⊠wouldnât you like to eat first?â
he closes your car hood and smirks
âwhatcha cookin?â
â
you turn the keys to your house before inviting him in, he winks at you and makes himself comfortable at the kitchen's island. you walk past him and pull out lukewarm potatoes, you can feel him stare at you as you walk back and forth between the different drawers and potatoes. you tried to focus on what you were doing and tried to think of other things, but your mind would always wonder back to the idea of him bending you over and fucking the living daylights out of youÂ
you try to sneak a glance at toji but it doesn't work he's still staring just as intensely as before and snickers at your futile attempt to look without him knowing. "somethin' you wanna say, sweetheart?" he asks, words laced with lust
'yeah, i want you to fuck my brains out' some request that is huh? instead, you ask something more appropriate, "could you come peel the potatoes?" so there you two are side by side peeling potatoes, weakly fighting the urge to ask if he's feeling the same way you're feeling. your thoughts suddenly come to a halt though when you realize he's old enough to be married, even so when you peep at his hand, you see no ring, but he's definitely old enough to be somebody's dad.. who are you kidding, you love DILFsÂ
you go on and on internally struggling on if it would be morally correct to fuck a strangerâa tow truck driverâuntil he makes the first move for you, his hand slithering along your back to grab your hip, "where's your bathroom at? 've gotta drain the snake"Â
"yeah its uh, right around the corner over there"
"thanks doll" he whispers into your ear before squeezing your hip and moving so close past you that you can feel his bulge before he slips away. you were at a loss for words. like actually your mind had went blank, what were you even supposed to do with that?
let him come back to your sprawled out naked body on the kitchen floor? but on second thought you had an even better idea, he clearly wanted you to feel that he was hard cause he feels that you're too scary to make a move. something he didn't know though is that you loved to play the long game and you could tease him all night if you had to
when he comes back, he sees you trying to reach the very top of your cabinet. you can hear his heavy foot steps stop right behind you before he rests a hand on your hips and pulls you close to his warm pelvis. "need help?" he asks. you look up at this tall, buffed up man, and he looks right back down at you
"could you hand me the paper towels up there?"
he hands them to you, but not before pressing himself against you, letting his hard-on poke between your cheeks. you could feel your heart skipping a million miles per minute, your cunt wildly throbbing between your legs, a tiny whimper escaping your lips when he backs away, leaving the paper towels in front of you
defeated, you walk back to the potatoes. how could you tease him back? oh, the bottom cabinet! you quickly plop down, and before he could notice you tug at the bottom of his jumpsuit pants, he looks down and is obviously flustered. you sat on your knees, looking at him with such ardor in your eyes "i need to get another bowl" you say while pointing towards the cabinet, a sneaky smile spreading across your face. "hm?" he says while bending down to your level, "I let you slide the first time, but I think you're forgetting somethin'"
confusion filled your face trying to figure out what it was you could've been missing until he grabs your face pulling you a bit closer to him
"where's your manners at girl?"
oh he was good at this
"what happens if i don't use 'em?"
"might need to train that pretty little mouth of yours"
"yeah? how're you gonna do that?"
he snickers at you, standing up while still holding your face in his big, calloused hand, "whatchu think?"
so there you are, taking every inch of his thick cock in your mouth as his hand holds the back of your head, making sure to push down when he wants to hear that slutty throat struggle to take all of him inÂ
âso this sâwhat all that staring was for?â he teases, âwhat a nasty girl, sucking on a strangerâs cockâ
you hum contently, hands lightly grazing against his thighs as saliva collects at his base, slowly dripping onto your tiled floor
he groans while picking up the pace, âsuch a mess, you like the taste of it? hm? yeah you doâ
you gag and hum against him, letting his angry tip bully the back of your throat. you just started, and you're already cock drunk, moaning and twisting your head around while you use your mouth to grip around his length tighter.Â
he sucks air through his teeth, letting barely audible âfucksâ escape his breath while steadily rolling his hips into your mouth. you use your tongue to  dance around one of his throbbing veins, enjoying how it interrupts his rhythm, making him thrust faster and faster until a sudden mean pop snatches his hips away from your mouthÂ
he bends down to slip his tongue into your mouth, stealing the taste of his precum right from your mouth. you tongue him back a bit more eagerly, feeling around his teeth and the scar on his mouth until his lips departÂ
âyouâre so greedyâ he teases, âdidnât your throat training teach you anything?â
âplease, please kiss me tojiâ you didnât think your pussy could take anymore teasing, you could feel how it beat against your squished thighs longing for his touch
he mustâve felt the same cause he stands you up on your feet and moves you on top of the island, snaking your pants off and pulling your slick cunt close to him in the process. âyou gotta earn it, princessâ, he taunts your clothed entrance with his tip before gracing you with one more kissÂ
âput it in, please put it inâ you couldnât wait any longer and started slowly grinding yourself on the tip until, of course, a mean smack to your mound caused you to freeze. you look up at toji and see annoyance plastered on his face. you ooze at the seriousness on his face, waiting for him to say somethingÂ
âjust for that, iâm not fuckinâ youâ
âWHAT! no, please iâm sorry please toji im-â he covers your mouth with one hand and moves the other towards your wet, sticky folds, collecting a bit of the slick before moving it around your pulsating clit.
he made deep circular motions on it, making you whine every time he hit the peak. your eyes rolled back, and you let him completely take over. your hips stuttering to his touch, he then moved closer, leaving kisses along your ear and down your neck, nipping at the skinÂ
though you didnât know your muffled moans were making it hard for toji to stay focused on teasing you, the truth is he was about to cum earlier while you were on your knees. sitting so innocently while taking all of him in you, the way your pretty eyes would flutter at his praise or how youâd scrunch your nose when you pushed your head down more, not to mention that tongue trick you did earlier, instead of thinking about it, he decided to return the favorÂ
he moves down to your panties and moves them aside, covetously looking up at those same eyes that made his tip leak beads of precum. âthatâs it baby, keep those pretty eyes on me," Â he starts slowly at first, his pointed tongue moving up your folds, slowly moving your legs further apart while keeping eye contact. the familiar feeling of haze started filling your mind as desperate moans echoed through your kitchenÂ
he groans into you, knowing the vibrations will probably make you cum faster, and he gently suckles on your wet bulb, listening to how sweetly you moan out his name. grabbing a fist full of his hair, you push him in deeper, chasing an end you didn't know toji wasn't going to let you reach just yet.Â
he stops sucking and instead sticks one finger inside your drenched cunt, moving it ever so slowly while he moves a pointed tongue in swirls on your clit his finger eventually picks up the pace, so he slips two in, then three. he had a merciless tempo, curing his fingers around your g-spot just to hear those pretty little moansÂ
"m'gonna cum toji~" you'd whine out, but he'd rapidly shake his head against your sopping wet clit and slap your mound, telling you to wait. to say you were drowning in pleasure would be an understatement. you felt hot all over, and with every thrust, you were sure you were going to break. eventually your moans became cries for a release. he turned you into a dripping wet mess, and he loved every bit of it until, of course, you said the magic wordsÂ
"please let me cum daddyâ fuck!~"
he lifts his head up almost instantly though he's still drilling his fingers through your pussy, "say that again?"
"please let me cum" you whimper, you don't know how much longer you can hold back
"nah girl, the other thing" he stands up, towering over you even as you're seating on the counter. his fingers pump into you slower but deeper, taunting your g-spot
"daddy" you whisper, he brings his other hand to your face and brings you in for a sloppy kiss loving how you moan into his mouth
"atta girl," he pulls his fingers out but the fullness is instantly replaced with his fat, rock hard cock. you felt him tear though you so easily, you desperately pull him in closer while looking at him through half lidded eyes. "look at you, so desperate for daddy's dick" he'd tease
"all fucked out n'still begging f'more" he pulled you in for another kiss and left his tongue slithering in your mouth while he pumped faster, holding you tightly as you struggled to keep up with his kisses. he moved a hand up to your face and held it in place as he tongued you, you felt a smile spread across his face as you struggled to keep it together until all you could do was wail into his mouth
his pace was harsh and unrelenting he fucked you like he was angry at you, punching your cervix with such vigor and gusto, you moaned louder practically screaming but all he did was move his mouth to your ear and whisper.
"that's it princess let it out, you're making sucha mess of yourself on me," you squeeze tighter at his words feeling your body go limp at the over stimulation, "you wanna cum on me?"
you shake your head yes almost instantaneously and he moves his head to look directly at you, moving his hand down to your clit, covering it in slick before rubbing it in circles. "go ahead," he coos, "cum on daddy's dickâ sh-shit"
he keeps rolling his hips into you until you finally come to your shaky finish, leaving scratches on his skin as you try to grasp your way back into reality with toji following close behind, loudly groaning and pulling out before fisting himself over your stomach releasing thin milky shoots of cum
he holds you close to him and leaves kisses on your head before helping you off the counter, it was weird feeling the ground under you again the sudden rush of blood making your legs feel like jello
"so about your car,"
right, shit he was in here to eat FOOD and go home not fuck you
"ill probably be able to fix it by tomorrow, n'maybe come drop it back off," he says while slipping his jumpsuit back on, "unless you wanna come to mine insteadâ
"you'd love that wouldn't you"
"think your pussy would like it more" he teases, pulling you closer to him. he was gonna turn you on all over again until you heard the front door open
#jjk smut#jjk x reader#smut#black reader#jjk#x reader#y/n#jjk x y/n#jujustsu kaisen x reader#toji x y/n#toji x you#jujutsu toji#toji smut#toji zenin#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#jjk toji#jujutsu kaisen toji#jujutsu kaisen#mdni#modern au#âż#pixiesholloworld
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August
Part 1: Possibilities and Peace Offerings
Your family has been invited to spend August at Dragonstone, where things get a little tense after an unfortunate first encounter with Aemond Targaryen, one he's determined to put right.
Aemond Targaryen x Reader // Modern AU
Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3
Warnings: 18+, nothing too bad here, eventual smut, slight enemies to lovers, mutual pining
Words: 7k
A/n: Summer romance is here!! hope you likeeee. This is going to be three parts in total.
The impending summer exists beyond time, beyond the rest of the world. Exams are over and youâve already received a mark for your dissertation. The dorm room you called home for three years is packed up and returned to its prison-like appearance, just as it was when you were an eager and excitable fresher. Suddenly the world is an endless sea of possibilities and youâre standing on the waterâs edge with nothing to lose.
You spend a few weeks with your friends, drinking in pub gardens and driving down to the rammed beaches along the coast near Kingâs Landing, but this summer of possibility takes an unexpected turn when your father receives an invitation to spend the month of August at Dragonstone, as a guest of Viserys Targaryen. Viserys and your father have been business partners for just under a decade, but to be welcomed into his inner circle, to the ancestral home of the Targaryen family, is another honour altogether.Â
Your parents are beside themselves with excitement. Youâre a little more sceptical but you wonât let them know it. So once your uni friends have gone back to their hometowns, you pack an array of swimsuits and summer dresses into a suitcase, and bundle into the backseat of your fatherâs car.Â
The aircon is on full blast. You sip on the last of your water as an 80s playlist blares through your headphones to block out the conversation of investments, clients, lawsuits and legal fees from the front seats.
Dragonstone is three things; an island, a town, and a castle. You drive out of the city, red and grey buildings blurring into greenery and vast spaces of blue, the sky and the sea. A ferry takes you from the mainland to the islandâs port. The song you were listening to fades away as you slip your headphones off your ears. The town is utterly charming, from the rows of fishing boats in the harbour to the cobbled streets and obscure little buildings, bookshops, bakeries and butchers. The sun shines brightly, heat pulses through the window even with the blast of cool air.
A few more miles and you reach a gatehouse, ancient stone walls smothered with ivy, guarded by two stone creatures with their jaws wide openâ dragons with spikes and sharp teeth. The driveway is lined with thick trees and foliage. Suddenly you turn a corner and there it is, towers and turrets reaching up into the summer sky, hundreds of windows, more carvings of dragons looming proudly over where Blackwater Bay becomes the Narrow Sea.Â
The man who greets you by the doors is not a Targaryen. He has dark hair, dark eyes, a crisp white shirt and a radio on his belt. Your father seems to know him already. He greets him as âCole,â and introduces him to you and your mother.
Cole offers his hand to you. âCriston,â he insists, âIâm the head of Mr Targaryenâs security.â
Two identical butlers take your bags from the car while Criston shows you into the entrance hall. He comments on the antiques and the 14th century timbers, leading you through to the room he calls âthe waiting chamberâ. It has high ceilings, wood panelled walls, an enormous fireplace and aged but comfortable looking leather sofas at the edges of the room. You note the portraits on the walls, the more recent photographs on the mantle, but before you can get a proper look, someone announces their own arrival into the room.
Viserys Targaryen has his arms open, dressed far more casually than youâve seen him at various galas and events, he even has a pair of aviators keeping his silver hair out of his face. He greets your father with a smile and a firm handshake, his eyes sharp but somewhat hollow.Â
âSorry for keeping you waiting,â he says, moving onto your mother and then to you. âWeâre having drinks on the patio, enjoying the sun. Why donât you join us?â He chuckles and you donât really understand why. Youâre not sure how any of this works.
Viserys leads you through the house, stopping by the great hall and the library, pointing out details like Criston did. His home is devoted to family and every furnishing carries some sentimental value. The curtains and the sofas in the library are Arryn blue for his first wife, the shelves are laden with books that belonged to his grandfather. There are items here which have belonged to the Targaryens for generations and their houseâs sigil is carved into the walls and wooden beams.Â
At last you come to a hall with tall windows, glass chandeliers and marble floors. Viserys calls this âthe west galleryâ, a more modern addition to the castle, built in the 17th century. He opens a double glass door and you can already see the sprawling green gardens, the unnatural blue of a swimming pool somewhere in the distance. Before all that is the raised patio, an array of chairs and the people sitting in them.
You step into the heat of the garden, into cigarette smoke and the sounds of laughter, loud and seemingly rehearsed. Your father knows most of these people, other associates of Targ Corp, Corlys Velaryon and his wife Rhaenys Tagraryen, Jason Lannister and his wife Joanna, Lyonel Strong and his son Larys. Even Otto Hightower is lounging back in his chair, sunglasses over his eyes, a pale pink cocktail in a crystal glass.Â
Your parents smile graciously, your mother clutching her handbag over her shoulder, your father wiping the sweat from his brow, trying to air out the damp patches in his shirt. Theyâll want to make a good impression. Each person staying at Dragonstone this summer is another opportunity for your father.
You glance down at your denim shorts and your sandalsâ an outfit for comfort, not for networking.
Viserys directs the three of you to a cushioned wooden bench and you squeeze in beside your mother. Another butler appears and offers you all a drink. Your parents both ask for a gin and tonic. Youâre thinking that youâd like to dunk yourself in the pool, so you ask for a large glass of water.Â
âWith ice and lemon, miss?â
âYeah, please, if you have it?â
Your mother nudges you with her elbow and whispers in your ear. âThis is Dragonstone, if you want it they probably have it.â
âIf I asked for the Prince of Pentosâ phone number, do you think theyâd bring it out on a silver tray?â You return with a grin.
The minutes drag by. Lyonel Strong asks your father about his law practice. Corlys Velaryon and Jason Lannister enter a heated discussion about yachts. Otto Hightower mentions the name âDaemonâ and the other voices go quiet. You take large gulps of your water, occasionally sharing silent looks with your mother.
The heat is sweltering. You feel your head pulsing, your skin becoming damp and you worry you may end up as a puddle on the patio if you donât find a reason to escape soon.
The glass doors open and two women enter the garden, one with auburn hair, dressed in a floral dress and high heels. The other, younger, blonde hair cut into a fashionably short fringe, barefoot, dressed in denim shorts and baggy t-shirt, goes straight to Otto. She doesnât look at anyone else. She stands behind Otto and leans down to wrap her arms around his neck. This must be Alicent Hightower and her daughter.
Alicent makes her rounds elegantly. Sheâs familiar with all the people present, except for the three of you, the outsiders, piled onto a single piece of garden furniture. Her eyes are wide and brown, her lips full and fallen slightly even when she smiles. She asks about the journey from Kingâs Landing, if youâve had a chance to explore the town.
She asks you a lot of questions too, what you do, where you studied, what your plans are for the Autumn. And once sheâs found out what she wants from you, she starts telling you everything about her children, unprompted.
âHelaenaâs starting a PhD in a few weeks, staying in Kingâs Landingâ Kingâs college, of course, not KLU, seven heavens. We didnât want her to be too far away from home,â she says, looking back at her daughter and her father. âEtymology. Well, sheâs always had a thing for insects, I could never understand it, but itâs easier to let her follow her interests, sheâs that sort of girl.
âNow Aegon is like that too, he likes a lot of things, would be nice if he could be interested in something that makes him money. Oh well, heâs into the arts, fancies himself a photographer, directed a few plays at universityâ Oldtown. He wrote a screenplay, you must remind me to show you, itâs really quite clever. Itâs about injustice or something like that.
âDaeron is at Oldtown too, at Citadel Boys. Heâs the only child I sent to board, I just felt he might be happy with a bit of space from all of us. He wants to go to Oldtown like his brothers. His father wants him to do economics, but heâs very good at history.
âAemond did history, but then he trained in accountancy. Heâs worked all over, Oldtown, Stormâs End, Harrenhal, but heâs looking to stay in Kingâs Landing nowââ
âMum, youâll bore her to tears,â Helaena says and itâs only now you notice that sheâs moved to stand in front of you.Â
Alicent frowns.
You stifle a smile and raise your brows hopefully.
âDo you know where youâre sleeping yet?â Helaena asks, looking at her mother.
âIâve put her in the moat room,â Alicent says. She turns back to you, âIâm sorry, darling, youâre probably tired, arenât you? Helaena can show you your room.â
You kiss your mother's cheek and agree to reconvene for dinner in the evening.
âSorry about mum, she just jumps at the chance to talk about her kids,â Helaena says as you walk back through the west gallery.
âItâs sort of cute,â you say, staring up at the gold detailing on the ceiling. âVery informative.â
âOh, you have no idea,â she says with a wicked smile.
When Helaena laughs she scrunches up her eyes and her nose. She sways her arms by her sides as she walks and trails her fingertips on the walls. Unlike Criston or Viserys, she doesnât have little anecdotes about any of the vases or paintings on display. Sheâs a juxtaposition of her familyâs ancestral home, airy and lighthearted, earthy and inexplicably real.
âYour parents are probably in the west wing,â she explains as you come to a winding stairwell. âThatâs where everyone else will be too. The moat room is on the other side of the house.â
You nod along, stealing glances out the windows, at the gardens, and from higher up, you can see the sea.
âDonât be too disheartened though,â Helaena says, âthat means youâre with us.â
She shows you your room first. It sits at the very corner of the castle with windows to the north and the east. The moat in question isnât a moat, itâs more of a well kept ditch. By the rest of the house you were half expecting the room to be medieval, but to your surprise itâs bright, carpeted, sans priceless antiques and heirlooms. A queen-sized bed waits for you piled with pillows.Â
âIâm down the hall, and the boys are in the next corridor,â Helaena explains. âIf you smell something suspicious, itâs Aegon.â
She helps you unpack your suitcase, admiring your swimsuits and looking through the small collection of books youâve brought to pass the time.
She shows you her room which is further down the corridor. Itâs much larger than yours, far more personal. She has worn patterned rugs over the wooden floors, dark blue wallpaper and accents of gold everywhere, the mirror over her vanity, the handles on the drawers and the wardrobe. Youâre most intrigued by the framed taxidermies on the walls, butterflies with the most beautiful wings youâve ever seen, moths, beetles, even a scorpion.
Youâre a little relieved when you see a cat curled up on her bed, with a thick white coat, brown ears.Â
âDreamfyre,â Helaena says, scooping the cat up in her arms. âSheâs named after the Valryian god of prophecy and wisdom.â
You hold your hand out for Dreamfyre to sniff. She considers you for a moment, and runs her head against your fingers. âSo can she tell me my future?â you ask.
Helaena stares at you. âDonât be ridiculous, sheâs a cat. Why, hoping for something in particular?â
âI like to see where life takes me,â you say.
After exchanging phone numbers and scrolling through each otherâs Spotify playlists, Helaena tells you that she thinks the two of you are going to be friends.
Dinner is surprisingly more pleasant, where you all eat around a table on the patio. Being outside is far more bearable once the sun starts to set and a breeze sweeps in from the sea. Youâre served white fish, potato salad coated in herbs which Alicent says she grows herself, summer vegetables, grilled courgettes, red and yellow peppers, sweet and tangy tomatoes, washed down with white wine.
You sit beside Helaena, opposite two of her brothers, Aegon and Daeron. Daeron is far taller than his older brother but his face is clearly younger. His pale blond hair is slightly overgrown, his nose a little pink and his skin freckled from being in the sun. âAemond managed to beat me at tennis today,â he says.
Aegon rolls his eyes, far more concerned with scratching the ears of a golden labrador perched on the floor beside him.
You look to Helaena for an explanation.
âDaeronâs looking to go pro. Aemond canât stand that heâs not the best at something.â
Thereâs an empty space at the head of the table, between Aegon and Helaena. Youâve yet to see any other evidence that the elusive middle brother exists.
âThereâs a tennis court here?â You ask.
âTowards the water garden, you should be able to see it from the moat room.â Helaena says. âYou should have a look.â
Dessert is pistachio ice-cream, then everyone starts to disperse. Aegon grabs a bottle of wine and he and Daeron traipse over to a firepit at the edge of the patio, followed by the labrador. Your parents follow Viserys and the others into the house. Corlys and Rhaenys linger at the table, staring up at the sky and taking long drags from their cigarettes.
You trail Helaena to a neatly kept kitchen. Some of the staff pass through, into a far larger back room with metal surfaces, where the real cooking is done. Criston sits at the kitchen island on a stool, eating a pasta salad from a glass bowl. Helaena pats his head as she passes him. He doesnât seem surprised by it, perhaps itâs a common occurrence.
âFeel free to grab anything you want, by the way. Thereâs all sorts of snacks and stuff, and if you want more of something give Criston a shout,â Helaena says, picking out bags of chocolate buttons and sour sweets from a cupboard.
âThatâs kind,â you say, twisting your fingers over each other in front of you. âIâm quite tired, I think I might just have a shower and go to bed.â
âDarling, itâs summer, you can do whatever you want,â Helaena says. âSee you at breakfast, yeah?â She pulls you into a quick hug and disappears out into the garden.
Not wanting to linger when Cristonâs phone starts to ring, you decide to brave it and find your way back to your bedroom. Aegon and Daeron seem like fun, maybe too much fun for tonight, you just need to sleep off the fatigue from the sun.
This place is far too big for you to feel settled just yet. It amazes you how everyone can navigate the castle so easily, itâs like a maze. Eventually you find your way back to the entrance hall. You think you might know the way to the east wing from here, but when you see the sky beyond the windows, lilac and orange, dotted with grey clouds and the first few stars of the evening, you want to make the most of the dying light. Maybe you could head towards the water garden and find the tennis court.
Your sandals crunch against the gravel which stretches out into paths leading in three directions. The central one leads to the driveway and the gatehouse. To the left is the gardens past the edge of the moat, and to the right is an outlook and a downhill path which disappears from sight, which you assume leads down to the sea. You can hear the waves in the distance.
The sunlight is fading fast. You cross your arms over yourself, shivering and regretting the lack of a cardigan. You tell yourself you might warm up with a bit of a walk.
You take a few paces down the path towards the gardensâ a dogâs bark has your heart leaping out of your chest. Itâs deep and loud, coming from behind you. Your head darts around. An enormous dog has emerged from the downhill path and is bounding towards you, covering ground quickly.
You keep your feet planted on the ground, out of fear
The dog, a great dane, stops before youâ it truly is huge, its head would come up to your torso if you were close enough, and you donât really want to find outâ barking viciously. Its teeth flash, flecks of saliva dripping from its mouth.
âBack off! Come, Vhagar!â
You look back along the path. A man in a black t-shirt and black shorts is walking quickly towards you and the dog. He grabs it by its collar and yanks it back, fastening it on a leash.
His eyes dart upâ eye, you realise. The right side is a bright blue, the left is clouded, framed by a scar slicing down from his brow to his cheek.
âWho are you?â He asks like an accusation.
You hesitate, your heart still racing in panic.
You say your first name, then your family name, at that the man tuts and raises himself to full height, keeping the great dane on a short leash. âRight. What are you doing out here?â
âJust⊠looking around.â
âJust looking around someone elseâs house?â
Gods now youâre really starting to panic. Heâs glaring at you as if itâs your fault his dog just made a break for you.
He huffs irritably through his nose. âLook, Vhagarâs not always friendly and especially not around strangers. Be careful, yeah?âÂ
Vhagar now seems content enough sitting by her ownerâs side, wagging her tail and panting with her tongue out. Her grey coat is covered in sand, especially her paws and her nose.
âIf your dogâs not always friendly why wasnât she on a leash?âÂ
His face hardens. Frowning suits his sharp features and the intensity of his eye. âI donât know if youâve noticed, but this is my fucking house.â
That explains the blond hair, and you suppose now he has the same lanky look as Daeron and the same gauntness in his face as Aegon.
âRight, your dog could have just mauled me but thanks for the friendly reminder.â You turn towards the house and mutter loud enough for him to overhear, âprick.â
You canât shake the frustration. Nothing takes the edge off, not the hot stream of water from the shower, the routine of your skincare or the feeling of sinking into an impossibly soft mattress. Dragonstone is perfect⊠and all you want to do is scream, just a little.
Breakfast is served in the morning room, next to the kitchen, according to the text you got from Helaena. You put a swimsuit on, a patterned one piece and pull on some shorts. Before you head downstairs you grab a pair of sunglasses, a bottle of suncream and a book, determined that your morning will be peaceful and idyllic.
People flitter into the morning room as they please. Helaena is still in her pyjamas, tucking into a bowl of yoghurt and fruit. Daeron comes in and starts eating toast off Alicentâs plate, having already run a casual 5k about the grounds.
The man from last night is hovering by a side table, placing sausages and bacon onto a small plate. He glances sideways at you as you enter.Â
You keep your teeth pressed together as you reach for a plate and go for the platter of pastries, reaching for an almond croissant.
His elbow must be a few inches from yours. âMorning,â he mutters.
You were half expecting him to act like you donât exist. âMorning,â you mumble back.
âHave you two already met?â Helaena asks loudly from the table.
âBriefly,â he says.
âAnd you didnât actually tell me your name,â you say, adding some strawberries to your plate for good measure.
âThe boy has no manners,â Daeron says in a mocking voice, earning him an exasperated chide from his mother. Helaena giggles to herself.
He faces you fully. âAemond,â he says.
âGood for you,â you say, and go to take a seat beside Helaena.
âTea or coffee?â she asks you, reaching towards the two silver pots in the middle of the table.
âCoffee, please.â
Helaena makes a shocked expression. âBlasphemy. Iâm a tea girl.âÂ
As Helaena pours some coffee into a china cup, Aemond takes the free seat opposite you. Your heart races a little, infuriated at the sight of him, somewhat guilty that your time at Dragonstone has already soured and his entire family is there to see it.
You add just a dash of milk to your coffee. In the corner of your eye you see him watching you, fork hovering in front of his face. You muster the confidence to look up and he averts his eye.
After youâve finished your breakfast you head out to the patio, down the stone steps and to the pool, settling on one of the lounge chairs. Helaena has gone back up to her room to change and bring you both down a towel.
You lather suncream on your limbs, face and neck, and open your book. This is a nice kind of heat, one that youâre more prepared for. You can almost feel it permeating your skin, breathing new life into your blood.Â
You get a few moments of bliss until a silhouette appears beside you.
You raise your eyes from the page, over the edges of your sunglasses, staring ahead at the surface of the pool. You can smell a manâs aftershave, and you can tell heâs too tall to be Aegon.
Ice clinks against glass. He leans down to place something on the small table beside you. âLook, I think we got off on the wrong foot.â
You donât want to turn your head, that might be misinterpreted as you actually caring.
But then Aemondâs voice takes on a lighter tone and he says, âAre you reading Crime and Punishment?âÂ
You scrunch your brows in bewilderment as you look up at him.
His eye moves between your face and the book in your lap
âYeah,â you say, shifting your legs and drawing your knees closer to your torso, âIâm finding it a bit boring to be honest.â
His lips are parted ever so slightly and you can see the tips of his teeth. âItâs one of my favourite books.â
âI think that might explain a lot,â you say.
The corner of his mouth flickers like he might smile. He holds it back.Â
âWhatâs this?â You ask, looking down at the glass of iced coffee heâs placed on the table.Â
âA peace offering,â Aemond says. âI really am sorry about yesterday evening. I just⊠panicked. Vhagar isnât always good around people she doesnât trust. She bit my nephew once actually.â
âOh, not good.â
âIt was years ago, and to be fair to herââ he doesnât finish that sentence. He presses his lips together. âI just thought I should apologise to you.â
Even when apologising he sounds smug.
âThanks, I appreciate it,â you say.
He hums, itâs cryptic and it throws you off a little. He looks at you like he has a secret, like heâs managed to spot something that you havenât.Â
You feel aware of yourself and now you canât breathe without doing it consciously. You feel beads of sweat forming at the back of your neck, the warmth of your own skin with your thighs pressed together, the pulse in your chest, the restless feeling in your stomach. Youâre worried you might do something stupid, but how could you? Youâre only sitting in a swimsuit and sunglasses, while Aemond is doing nothing to hide the fact that heâs looking at youâ studying you with a hint of excitement in his eye.
And after about a minute of this he says, âenjoy your morning,â turning and strolling towards the patio.Â
You clench your jaw, determined that you wonât look back at him, but you listen to his footsteps as they move away.Â
With each line you read, you can only think of Aemond pouring over every word and making this book his bible. You imagine his hands holding the cover, his fingertip dragging over the page, his lips parted in concentration. It feels intrusive, it feels too involved. You couldnât possibly put this book down now.
Aemond is an understated presence amongst his own family. He often lurks in the library or in a corner of the sitting room with a book. He wanders the gardens with his headphones on. He takes Vhagar down to the beach every evening and some nights you steal glances of them from a window at the front of the house. He gets these headaches, something to do with the scar over his eye, and when he does he likes to retreat to his room. When he is around for dinner he sits at the head of the table, opposite his father but miles away from him. Heâs not a big talker but when he does have something to add to the conversation he commandeers it. Everyone stops to listen when he speaks.
You like watching him, the way he fiddles with anything within his reach, how he strokes his fingertips over his hands, the edge of his jaw. You look for his microexpressions, the twitches of his brow and the quirk of his lips when he finds something amusing, and how at the mentions of sensitive subjects or certain names, his eye widens.Â
He smirks when he sees you looking, you donât mind that he knows that you are.
You donât want to seek him out, but you donât try to avoid him either. Heâs always somewhere in your periphery, his hand brushing against yours at the dinner table, the smell of his Marlboros wafting from the patio when youâre sitting by the pool which makes you wonder if heâs watching you. In the evenings after dinner, you and the Targaryen siblings hang around the firepit late into the night. Helaena and Daeron talk about constellations and roast marshmallows, Aegon plucks on a guitar, and you and Aemond fall into a game of pretending like youâre not looking at each other.Â
Some nights you sit across from him, your view distorted by the heat and the flames. Other nights he dares to sit beside you, close enough that his leg will rest against yours. He keeps his voice soft until youâre leaning in closer to catch every word he says, this insufferable man who bings you a coffee every morning and asks you about the books you read.
One night Aemond is sat beside you. Helaena sings along to Aegonâs guitar, Daeron drums his fingers against his legs, gazing in wonder at his siblings because moments like this are a rarity for him.
âDo you forgive me yet?â Aemond asks, his arm draped along the back of the bench you sit on. Maybe he can read your mind because youâve been silently begging for him to come closer⊠closerâŠ
Your senses are hazy, the smoke of the fire, the scent of cigarettes and aftershave lingering on Aemondâs shirt, the glasses of wine you had with dinner, the clear, cold night air piercing the backs of your arms. He notices you shivering and slips his arm around your shoulders, slowly, so you have a chance to tell him to stop. His heat is white hot. Your chest feels hollow and weightless.
Everything about him is hypnotising, the curve of his mouth, his self-assuredness, the look in his eye thatâs gentle and intense all at once.
Your body feels heavy; you should probably go to bed soon. âDo you care if I forgive you?â
He frowns, less disappointed, more intrigued and lifts his hand to brush your hair from your neck, fingertips grazing over your skin. Your body stiffens in his wake, like electricity coursing through your shoulders, down your spine.
âIâd hate to have it hanging over my head,â he mutters.
You turn your head and now your faces are inches apart. His nose twitches as he breathes, you notice.
His palm comes to rest on your bare thigh, below the hem of your shorts. In the corner of your eye you see heads of silver hair glancing across the firepit. Aegon chuckles. Youâre content to let the distractions fade away. âKeep bringing me coffees and Iâll consider it.â
The next day youâre laying on your bed, enjoying the cool of the early evening against your damp skin and hair after a shower. How you can be so exhausted after a day of reading by the pool makes you despair a little. Itâs the heat, it messes with your brain.
The music through your headphones is interrupted by a notification.
Helaena Targaryen: Aemond said heâs off to walk the dogs if you want to join him.
You frown at the screen. Did he want Helaena to ask you? You specifically?
Surprisingly, you were getting on rather well with Aemond today, not enough for him to text you himself, or ask for your number for that matter. At the very least, things have been less hostile since your first encounter. You saw him at breakfast and he asked you how you were getting on with Crime and Punishment, if you had finally realised that itâs the best piece of literature put to the world (his words). You said you were not convinced, only because it was fun to argue about it with him. While you were sitting by the pool he came down in a pair of black trunks and no shirt, swam twenty laps in twenty minutes, then dried off in the lounge chair next to yours. Later, while Helaena was sitting with you, he appeared from the kitchen with two bowls of strawberries with the stems cut off. And then at lunch he sat between Aegon and Daeron, and hardly looked at you.
Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, painfully conscious that Helaena will be able to see that youâre typing.
Helaena Targaryen: I think itâs part of him âmaking amendsâ with you.
Helaena Targaryen: He probably still feels bad about it.
Helaena Targaryen: Loser.
You smile to yourself and type out your reply: Yeah, why not. Where does he want me?
While Helaena starts to type you quickly pull on some shorts and a clean t-shirt. Your phone dings while youâre in front of the mirror, dabbing concealer under your eyes.
Helaena Targaryen: Front door. Five mins. Have fun :)Â
It will probably take you five minutes to find your way down to the entrance hall anyway. You finish your face off with some blush on the apples of your cheeks and a thin amount of mascara on your lashes. Thereâs not much you can do about your wet hair, but other than that youâre mostly satisfied with yourself, so you pull on a pair of trainers, slip your phone into your back pocket and hurry through the corridors of Dragonstone.
Heâs waiting for you in the entrance hall by the door, Vhagar, the great dane on one leash, Sunfyre, the golden labrador on another. He gives you a half smile as you approach them.
âWho am I walking?â you say.
âMy girl stays with me,â he says, offering you Sunfyreâs leash, which you take, ruffling his ears.
âVhagar is your girl then, is she?â you ask as Aemond leads you out the door and down the front steps, past the spot where she scared you half to death. The dogs are eager to storm ahead but Aemond keeps Vhagar on a tight lead, so you do the same.
âI suppose. Weâve had great danes forever, my fatherâs very fond of them. We got Vhagar when I was sixteen and well, we just like each other a lot I guess.âÂ
âWhat about Sunfyre?â
âHeâs Aegonâs really, but mostly he stays at the Keep with mum and dad. Aegon doesnât really stay in the same place long enough.â
âSounds exciting.â
âYeah well, he does what he wants. This way,â Aemond says, nodding towards the downhill path to the beach. Youâve been down here with Helaena already, a winding gravel path lined with bushes and brambles down the cliff face. Vhagar plods along leisurely, Sunfyre canât get down fast enough. When you stumble, Aemond steadies you, a large hand wrapped around your forearm. âHe can run off now anyway,â he mutters, undoing the leash, and Sunfyre darts along the path in a golden flash.
Low in the sky, you see the sun dancing along the surface of the sea, waves rolling orange and blue into white foam as they meet the shore.
âWhat about you?â
Aemond looks at you with a brief look of bewilderment.
âAre you not doing what you want?â
He tries to conceal a frown, pouting his lips slightly. âMaybe I did for a bit, wound up working for Targ Corp, so I donât see what difference any of it made.â
Once you reach the sand and Sunfyre is sniffing at some rocks along the base of the cliff, Aemond looks at you. âAre you alright if I take her off the leash?â
Vhagar looks pleadingly up at her owner, her tail thrumming against the ground.
âYeah, of course,â you say.
âI just didn't know if youâd be comfortable afterâŠâ
âOh,â you say, âthanks for considering it, but yes, itâs more than fine.â
Aemond grins as he undoes the clasp connecting the lead to Vhagarâs collar.
âWhat?â you ask.
âDoes that mean you forgive me now?â
You fold your arms, your cheeks straining as you try to withhold the extent of your smile. âYou do make a good coffee, Iâll give you that.â
Sunfyre and Vhagar entertain themselves, chasing each other, running to the edge of the water where the waves rush over the sand and retreat again. You and Aemond walk along the shore where the sand is damp and stable. Aemond says the tide will be coming in within the hour.
âSo why work for Targ Corp if you donât want to?â you ask him.Â
Aemond contemplates this for a moment, making a low humming noise in his throat. âIf I really didnât want to, I wouldn't.â
âBut if Aegon gets to do what he wants, why donât you?â
He looks down at his shoes, white sneakers, and digs his hands into the pocket of his joggers. âI remember thinking when I finished my bachelorâs, there were lots of things I was good at.â
You make a teasing face.
âNo, I just mean thereâs lots of things I could have done. I thought about being a curator, or something, you know? I did my dissertation on that actually, how museums and exhibitions can distort the past as well as preserve itââ he interrupts himself with a short tut. âSorry, I donât need to bore you.â
Your eyes trail along the curve of his jaw and his chin in the fading light. The wind is gentle, whispering over the bare skin of your cheeks, your arms, your legs. The smell of sea salt lingers in your nose and on your tongue. âIâm not bored,â you say.
With a shy sort of smile he tells you more, how he used to spend hours in the museums in Oldtown, looking at exhibits on Dorne, Essos and Valyria, the papers he read, the cultural memory and the dissonance. âHistory and heritage, when you think about them, are inherently vague concepts,â he says, âbecause theyâre all based on claims and narratives that are difficult to determine and if they are clear cut, theyâre biased. So how do we find the truth? How do we know that what weâre claiming is the right story is actually accurate?â You find yourself watching the parts of him you usually do. He speaks with his hands, indicating and gesturing and moving them randomly when heâs trying to think of a word or explain himself. Occasionally he runs his fingers through his hair or rubs his chin. And his single eye is wide, looking up as he pieces together a thought, looking back to you so he knows youâre still listening.Â
âBut after all that, you went and trained to be an accountant?â you ask.
âYou should have seen the look on my fatherâs face when I told him I wanted to do a masters in museum studies. So yeah, accounting it was.â
It makes you sad, but you donât want to tell him that. The entire time youâve been here youâve never seen Aemond so animated, talking about something he seems to love.
âWhat about you? What are your big life plans?â he says.
âAnything but accounting.â
He chuckles. âYeah, I bet.â
âIâll do a masters eventually, but I want to work for a little bit. Iâll start applying for jobs when Iâm home.â
âIn Kingâs Landing?â
âYeah.â You look back up at the dark stone of the cliff, the layers and straight lines, the tops of the castleâs turrets just visible from the shore. âYeah, yeah I think thereâs so much pressure to find something to do. I mean, I was trying to focus on my dissertation and my exams, and I kept having these weird moments where Iâd think, whatâs the point? I donât have a job ready to go. I donât have a place on a masters course. I donât have any plans to travel or volunteer at an orphanage in Meereen. It was like there was a timer going off in my brain and if I didnât make something of my life before my exams were over, well it was all going to be a waste.â Now youâre the one moving your hands mindlessly, and you donât know why but saying it all out loud makes you nervous. âSometimes I feel like Iâm running out of time.â
You look back at Aemond and realise youâve stopped walking. Somewhere along the beach the dogs bark and splash in the shallowest part of the water. Aemond is watching you. He still has his hands in his pockets, his lips curled into a vague smile. âYou have plenty of time, donât worry,â he says.Â
It suddenly strikes you what Alicent had mentioned, about him moving back to Kingâs Landing.
Without stepping away from him you take a mental note of him, your eyes glancing up and down. You want to remember his silhouette, his posture and how he stands, the way he angles his chin, the way he likes to hold his hands behind his back, the joggers and the shape of his torso though his t-shirt. You think you could recognise him at a brief glance, a single body in a crowded city. You think youâd find him.
Aemond meets your eye and raises his brow.Â
You smile slightly to fein innocent interest. âWeâll be neighbours, we might see each other wandering around the city.â
But you realise youâve made a mistake. His amusement starts to fade from his face, his shoulders stiffening. He turns and puts his middle finger and thumb in his mouth to whistle the dogs. They both freeze and bound back towards you. âTide will be coming in soon,â he says to you.
He has Vhagar and Sunfyre on their leads again. By the time you come back to the path on the cliff the sky is a dull shade of dark blue. The castle looms in darkness and the light comes from within, golden through all of its windows.
âIâm sorry if I was a bit of a downer,â you say.
âYouâre fine,â Aemond says. Your steps sound in perfect time along the gravel, up to the front steps. Vhagar and Sunfyre huff and pant, pulling on their leads and eager for a rest.
You reach the door and Aemond opens it. Down the hall one of the butlers is waiting to take the dogs.
âItâs just, I thought we were getting on.â
âWe are,â Aemond mutters. âDo you think we are?â
Itâs hard to tell with Aemond. Heâs polite when he needs to be, easily irritated around his siblings. Heâs so calm and composed, but you can see it in his eye when heâs thinkingâ you just donât know what. But then there are moments like this, when you think youâve scratched the surface, when his gaze lingers on you and his eye is soft but intent. When he brings you a coffee in the morning, when he tells you about his favourite book and the things he wishes heâd done with his life.
Youâre standing in the entrance hall. Dragonstone is alive, filled with people and distant sounds. Beyond the ancient walls the wind picks up and the tide is coming in. If you took one step closer to Aemond, your navel would be pressed against his.
âI want us to get on,â you say.
âMe too.â
âAnd I thought we were getting somewhere.â
âMaybe we are,â he says. âI liked this, youâre a good listener.â
âI donât get that a lot.â
âDo you not?â
âWell I suppose it helps if the person speaking has something interesting to say.â
âOh,â he says with a little nod, âI thought you were going to say you just liked me that much.â
âThat helps too.â
No taglist, follow @ficsbygee and turn on post notifs for updates <3
#my fics#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x you#aemond targaryen x you#aemond smut#aemond targaryen smut#hotd fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfiction#hotd fanfic#house of the dragon fanfic#aemond fanfic#aemond fic#aemond targaryen fic#aemond targaryen fanfiction#modern!au#modern!aemond#summer aesthetic#summer romance#summer romance fic#hotd fandom#aemond targaryen#aemond one eye#hotd aemond
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spin me around | joel miller x f!reader
joel masterlist | read on ao3
summary: you find a vintage record store full of rare finds, the man behind the counter the rarest of them all word count: 2,4k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied & wears a dress, way too much music talk, food & alcohol consumption, pet names, touching in public, dirty talk a/n: written for @secretelephanttattoo's Secret Springs challenge! i saw record store on your wheel and ran away with it - this is highly self-indulgent with the music references (like woah) but what better place for it than secret springs :) not beta'd, keep slaying
The stair treads creak as you head up to the second floor, blank CDs are fastened to the risers and old warped vinyl hangs from the ceiling. A faint melody floats down the stairwell that you donât recognise, the instrumentals rising in a crescendo as you climb, the varnished railing worn and knotted.
Youâd found this place online on your quest for a bargain, the secondhand vintage vinyl shop is situated on a fashionable street at the top of town with picturesque mountain views. After stalking their social media pages, you decided youâd just come and see it for yourself. Having mentally prepared yourself for parallel parking, it was unusually stress-free for a Saturday morning, the sun just beginning to warm the air.
Reaching the landing and glancing around, the room is essentially wallpapered with band posters, crates and crates of records are alphabetically organised, and a gallery of LPs sits on shelves behind the counter. A few customers are rifling through the various collections, one man perched on a barstool with headphones wired into a cassette player. The space is light and vibrant, it feels like a sacred haven.
What really catches your eye is the man behind the counter â unruly silver-streaked hair, trimmed moustache and greying beard, unreasonably broad shoulders that fill out his faded thin t-shirt.
âMorninâ!â He looks up as you round the bannister and flashes you a winning smile, his brown eyes sparkling in the light filtering through the windows. âAnythinâ in particular you lookinâ for?â
You greet him shyly as you enter the room, âJust came to look around, thanks.â
âNo problem.â He turns back to his newspaper and you canât help but stare, stuck in place as you think youâve found far more than you couldâve imagined.
-
The sheer number of records fitted into the quaint shop is amazing, with some dividers spilling over into two or three boxes. Flipping through the S category, you find Sade, Stealers Wheel, Steppenwolf, Stevie Nicks, and countless others â a never-ending supply of artists and albums, some popular and some obscure.
Your eyes go wide at seeing Pretzel Logic, a favourite album by a favourite band. Youâve considered for weeks whether or not to just buy the damn thing online at full price, but you never did. Now you see why, some sort of divine intervention leading you here to snatch it up at a fraction of the cost â or it led you here for that man.
Youâve been peering over to him every time you move to the next crate â crinkles around his eyes, plush lips, deft hands. Itâs almost unfair how beautiful he is, hidden away up here from the rest of the world. Admittedly you tried looking if he had a wedding band on, but you scolded yourself before you could complete the task, not wanting to get caught.
Time slips away from you as you switch between scouring through everything and stealing glances at the mystery music man, your fingers cramping from holding onto far more records than youâd planned to take. You scan over the tables and check for anything you may have missed, slinking through the room and placing your selection on the counter. You rummage in your bag to find your wallet.
âFan of Steely Dan, huh? Gaucho, Pretzel Logic, Countdown to Ecstasy⊠Youâre cleaning me out here, darlinâ.â You lift your head at his words, losing yourself at the endearment.
âYeah, uh⊠couldn't help myself,â you huff a laugh, feeling heat under your skin as he keeps his attention on you, a half smile on his face. âI did pick out some others, too. For some variation, you know?â
He fans the records out on the table to see each one.
âYeah, thought you might be a Fleetwood Mac girl, Eagles is a bit of a surprise, but a pleasant one⊠Steely Dan, though? Wouldn't have pinned a girl like you as a fan of âem.â
âA girl like meâŠ?â
âFar too pretty.â He winks at you with a tilt of his head, that half smile now spread fully across his face before he moves to add up the total. Your mind races as you try not to stand and gawk like an idiot.
âI saw online you had Dark Side of the Moon⊠do you uh, still have it, by any chance?â
âFull of surprises⊠Iâm afraid we sold that one already, noticed itâs a bit of an elusive find âround here.â He drums his fingers against the wooden top and looks at you briefly, his eyes warm.
Shuffling papers around, he picks up a notepad, big hands and thick fingers dwarfing the pages. âI can keep an eye out for you, if youâre okay giving me your number? Wonât bother you, just business.â
âYeah, sure.â His fingers graze across your skin as you take a pen from him and write down your information. Tearing the page off, you slide it across the counter and tease him, âWouldnât mind if you bothered me.â
âWell then, maybe I will. Iâd love to know what else you got in your carefully curated collection.â He doesnât take his eyes off you as you pay for the records, and he slips them into a brown paper bag, folding and unfolding the top like he doesnât want you to leave.
âThereâs actually this nice restaurantââ he turns to look behind him, grabbing a small carton and repositioning it on the counter, stalling as he tries to find the words, ââthey have uh, live music on Friday nights⊠if youâd be interested.â
âSounds funâŠâ You mull it over, impressed by his boldness but still wary. âCan I let you know?â
ââCourse, no pressure, here,â he writes his own number on a new page and tears it off, holding on as you reach for it and brush your fingers over his hand.
âAnd you are?â
âJoel Miller.â
Joel Miller. You quite like that.
-
Youâd stared at Joelâs number for days, a constant back and forth on whether or not you should go. On the one hand, you knew nothing about this man except his name and where he worked; on the other, youâve seen just enough of him to be well intriguedâŠÂ
You caved and said yes, which brings you to the present day â itâs Friday afternoon and youâre pacing in front of your wardrobe, worried about what to wear. To avoid losing your mind over this, you text Joel for some insight.
You: So, what am I supposed to wear tonight?Joel: Place is smart casual, I guess
Smart casual â arguably the worst fucking dress code description in existence.
You: That doesnât help meJoel: Just wear a dress or something nice? Iâm sure whatever you choose will be perfect
Perfect? Well, that certainly raises the bar. You suspect that Joel isnât impressed by material things, and isnât phased by flashy appearances, but you still want to make an effort. He called you pretty once already and youâre hoping heâll repeat it tonight.
-
Approaching the restaurant, the brick wall facade is lined with fairy lights, the stars just beginning to twinkle in the darkening sky, and muffled music sounds through the windows and glass doors.
Joel waits out on the pavement like a gift from God himself â black dress pants, a hint of chest peeking out from behind his button-up, a blazer hooked on one finger over his shoulder. You canât help the way your gaze runs over him, noticing how his tummy just pokes out past the waistband of his pants, and just how well fitting those pants really are. You swallow to steady yourself.
âHey.â
âHiâŠâ
You fall into silence as you take each other in â a low heat settles at the base of your spine and you drop your eyes to the floor, holding back a giggle like an enamoured schoolgirl.
âShall we?â He pulls the door open and gestures for you to lead the way, eyes sparkling and a crooked but warm smile on his face, a guiding hand on the small of your back as you step inside.
Black-framed minimalist posters line the walls, the floors are polished dark wood and exposed brass light fixtures hang at varying heights from the ceiling. You pass a long, elegant bar lining one side of the room as youâre led towards the back of the restaurant â this place oozes sophistication, even the waitstaff are in fancy uniforms. Not smart casual.
Joel pulls a chair out for you as you reach your table, a small reserved card rests against a floating candle and two red roses bloom in a slender vase.Â
âDo you mind if I take the wall?â you ask timidly, pointing towards the opposite bench.
âNot at all.â His gaze is soft as he shakes his head, eyes trained on you as you both take your seats.
âI justâ I like being able to see, itâs uhâŠâ
You smooth your hands over the tablecloth as your voice fades off, resisting the urge to make a game of blowing the candle out. You flit your eyes up to look at Joel, finding heâs already staring at you, candlelight flickering in his eyes. You drop your gaze to the table again, failing dismally at suppressing the grin that spreads across your face.
âYou look gorgeous, by the way â if you donât mind me sayinâ. Knew you would, of course, butâŠâ
It seems your outfit choice has paid off â gorgeous?
After hours of flinging clothes off hangers, youâd finally settled on a black, mid-length dress â a sweetheart neckline with white piping, the same white mirrored on the hem, a daring slit up one side of the skirt. Thereâs nothing casual about it, but seeing Joel dressed up and the finely decorated restaurant has calmed your nerves.
You donât dare look at him again as the waiter returns and places two menus on the table. The nightâs barely begun, and you hope it doesnât end any time soon.
-
There hasnât been a lull in the conversation once during dinner, a sharing dessert now in the centre of the table as Joel swirls whatâs left of his whiskey around the glass. He held back all evening, fingers twitching and curling into a loose fist alongside yours on the table until he finally allowed himself to dance them across the back of your hand.
âHowâd you get into all this record business?â
âStarted workinâ there on weekends as a kid, wanted to earn some pocket money. The old man who owned it was like a mentor, he taught me all about the world. He left it all in my hands when he retired, and Iâve never looked back.â
A fond smile on his face as he retells his memories, you saw the first day you met how happy and comfortable he was in his charming shop, and it seems that charm bleeds over into him, too.
âAnd you get to meet all kinds of people â loud, friendly, aloof⊠pretty ones, too.â He gives you the same wink and devilish grin as before, continuing his stories as if you arenât burning across the table.
-
Sometime during the night, heâd moved to sit next to you, claiming he âwanted to see the bandâ â the arm draped on the bench behind you and fingers trailing across your shoulder says otherwise.
He mentioned at the shop that there was live music here on Friday nights â the one thing he didnât mention? That tonightâs particular band was a jazz quartet â the slow, smooth, romantic kind of jazz, the kind that acts as the perfect backdrop for a night of cheeky flirting, lingering glances and desperate touches.
âJoel, can I ask something?â
âShoot.â
You roll the edge of the tablecloth between your fingers. âIs this a date?â
âIt can be, if you want.â You drop your hands and eye him, unimpressed by his response.
âAlright, Iâll admit, I was hopinâ for a date. I wasnât really sure how to ask, didnât wanna come on too strong.â
Youâre silent for a beat, considering how to respond. âI mean, you couldâve just asked.â
âWell then, you wanna go on a date?â He tilts his head, eyebrows raised.
âI thought we were already on one.â
He chuckles at your remark, downing the last of his whiskey and momentarily tracing a finger along the rim of the glass. You focus on his movements, imagining his fingers tracing patterns into your skin instead.
As if he can read your mind, he twists himself towards you and plants that same hand just above your knee, fingers curled towards the inside of your leg as he scrapes his nails against you.
âAnd?â His voice is almost a whisper in your ear, âHas it been a good one?â
He glides his hand up your leg and into the slit of your dress as you nod, higher, higher, higher until his fingers brush against lace. You wonder if he can feel the fabric dampening.
âYâknow the Pink Floyd you asked about? It wasnât sold, I kept it for myself. Iâll play it for you sometime.â
âYouâre gonna talk about music? Right now?â
âWhat should I talk about instead? The delicate panties you got on? How wet theyâre getting?â
Your breath hitches as he shifts his fingers, tucking them just under the edge of your panties and caressing your skin. Glancing around, the band are still playing low and slow, most tables having cleared out by now.
âWould love to see âem, if youâll let me. Iâd really love to see whatâs underneath though. Pretty girl like youâs bound to have a real pretty pussy, too. Certainly feels like it, Jesus.â
He presses his fingers into you with more force this time and you turn your head to him. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide and not from the dim lighting. He glances down to your lips and back up to your eyes again and you close the distance between you. He repositions the arm around your shoulders, hand holding the back of your neck as you lock your legs together and grind yourself against him.
His lips are soft, beard and moustache tickling your skin as he swipes his tongue against the seam of your mouth. You moan into him as you part your lips, letting him lick into you and you can taste his whiskey. He pulls back and you whine, teasing you with just enough to leave you reeling for more.
âWhatâs wrong, baby?â
âTake me home, Joel. Please, I need you.â
âSure thing, sweetheart. Wanna hear the music you can make.â
comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all đ
dividers by @saradika-graphics
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Hi cherry!
I've been trying to send you this and overthinking about it for a while because I'm very shy to ask, and the thought of you ignoring it eats me up..
Could you please write about dadbod Miguel in his wedding night with fem reader; trying to fit his fat dick in her, but it just won't, and she's very shy about it?
You can end it however you like bc I don't have any idea tbh
Thanks! â„ïž
Pairing: Miguel OâHara x fem!reader
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fingering, Penetrative Sex
A/N: Here you are, love!
Unedited
The silk and lace are long forgotten.
Itâs a layered pile of pure white, an obscure amount of money reduced to pesky fabric on a hotel floor. Itâs vastly unimportant in the face of Miguelâs flaming touch on your skin, engulfing every inch of exposed flesh.
Your body arches, soft gasps spilling from your lips as he trails kisses along your neck, his hands finding the wetness between your thighs. He fits perfectly against you: his head resting comfortably in the space where your neck and shoulder meet, the pudge of his stomach resting against your own, his fingers just thick enough to press over your clit entirely and stretch your entrance, his hand holding yours and causing your matching rings to clink together.
The only thing that wonât fit is his dick.
You whimper as he continues to stretch you out, fighting through the past few orgasms. But no matter how wet you are or how many fingers he squeezes into your warm heat, he finds that itâs not nearly enough. Every attempt he makes at slipping into you, heâs met with a persistent resistance that refuses to give before he can fit himself fully inside.
âM-Miggy,â you hiccup, squeezing his hand tight, âItâs not gonna-â
Miguel grunts, trying to thrust forward, only to apologize hurriedly when you sob at the pain. Your walls clamp sharply around him, warning that there is no where else to go. It causes him to hiss, eyes closing in bliss before he pulls back slightly and back in. You let out a watery moan, your other hand coming to his back.
âItâs okay, mi vida,â Miguel murmurs into your skin, leaning down to kiss at the tears running down your flaming cheeks. âI promise Iâll still make it feel good.â
You choke on your next hiccup as he slowly thrusts into you as far as he can go, stretching you wide and adjusting your position to be flush with the rest of his body.
âNot gonna stop me from showing how much I love mâwife.â
At the reassurance and the pleasurable thrusting, you find all your worries start to disappear. Everything begins to fade, and youâre reminded of why you married this man. You love him. You love him, you love him, you love him.
And you fit together in all the ways that matter.
#cherry's requestsđ#miguel o'hara#miguel oâhara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel ohara x you#atsv miguel#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099 x you#spiderman 2099#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara#miguel smut#miguel o hara#miguel oâhara smut#miguel ohara x reader smut#spiderman 2099 smut#miguel spiderman#miguel x reader#miguel 2099#miguel spiderverse#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o hara x reader#miguel ohara smut#miguel oâhara x you#miguel oâhara x y/n#miguel oâhara fanfiction#miguel x you#miguel x y/n#spider man 2099
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pairing ⧠yandere!diavolo x f!reader x barbatos
warnings ⧠minors: please do not interact! i will block you. this is a doozy⊠implied toxic relationships, inhuman anatomy, monsterfucking, breeding, knotting, cervix fucking, dubious consent, pregnancy mention, lots and lots of cum, passing out, neglect (kind of), bondage and restraints, implied nonconsensual acts at the end. reader has a vagina and is referred to as âmy little humanâ and âlittle one.â please let me know if there is anything i missed!
word count ⧠1129
notes ⧠this is the first installment of the garden of earthly delights! i apologize for the wait; i hope everyone enjoys <3
you have never looked more beautifulâmore hisâthan in this moment, diavolo thinks. the demon prince has one massive hand encircling your ankles, pressing your knees flush to your chest. his other hand cradles the back of your head with adoration, forcing your teary gaze to remain on him, a clawed thumb hooked between your swollen lips. his amber irises are nearly subsumed by his pupils, jet as the moonless night.
black spots cloud your watery vision as you slobber all over the digit, broken whines the only sound to leave your lips; the golden tips of his horns flash in your periphery. youâre on the verge of losing consciousness.
diavolo has been breeding you for hours. his long, thick cockâgilt, ribbed, impossibly large, and complete with a knotâhas already stuffed you so full of seed that your stomach is distended. the viscous liquid, a rich cream with an otherworldly sheen, spurts out of your abused cunt with each of his powerful thrusts. the rest of it tingles hotly in your core.
âyou can take one more, canât you, my little human?â diavolo coos, breath unnervingly steady given the force of his movements. he leans down to smear a gentle kiss against your damp hairline before dropping your head and sliding his hand down to rub your puffy clit, plenty slick with the fluids coating your flesh.
âc-canât,â you whimper. your nerves are fried and the overstimulation has your head pounding and your legs shaking as diavoloâs cock batters your cervix. your hands scratch and scrape at his chest in an attempt to get him to slow, to stopâanythingâbut your nails do not even pierce the princeâs thick flesh. the demon chuckles at your pathetic protests and his pace quickens in response.
hasnât he taught you that you are not as fragile as you think?
âyou can,â diavolo asserts, pulling out entirely. his crimson strands hang past his forehead and obscure his eyes, the glistering gold almost menacing as he leans over you. he strokes himself lazily, grazing his flared knot with a shiver, ready for his high. ready to see your womb swell with his heir.
âand you will,â he punctuates by plunging his cock and knot inside you in one fluid motion, a guttural groan rumbling from his heaving chest. your mouth stretches to accommodate a scream that never passes your lips. your body is aflame, dripping with sweat; the room fades into nothingness as diavoloâs hot cum pumps into your pulsing cunt.
the room is dusky when you awaken. your lover is gone, his warmth and ever-present touch absent, stillness in his place. the slippery silk sheets cling to you and glide along your curves as you sit upright. you clutch your forehead and curse the dull thump in your skull, a wince breaking the quiet. you feel a trickle of sticky cum ooze from you to join the wet puddle you slept atop like an animal.
the demon princeâs little pet.
a rustling sound draws you from your thoughts. a looming figure swathed in shadow floats toward the bed; you squeak in fright as you yank the sheets up to your neck in an attempt to shield your nude form.
âthere you are,â barbatos, who you can now see as he emerges from the darkness, says. âi apologize for disturbing you. i am here on behalf of the young master.â
you breathe a shaky sigh of reliefâthe demon butler is your only friend in the lonely castle. âyou scared me, barbatos. whereâs diavolo?â
barbatos turns on the bedside lamp, bathing the room in a faint glow. his eyes, emerald in the low light, shine eerily as his gaze meets yours. âthe young master had to run to an impromptu meeting, but he did not wish to disturb your rest. thus, i am here to aid you in his stead.â
you furrow your brows. a meeting. you were once a member of the student council, privy to conferences and other social functionsâuntil diavoloâs devotion to you got the better of him. (as a human, you are far safer being completely removed from lesser demons. and there is no one better to care for you than the prince of the devildom himself.)
you suppress your memories. âthank you. i can manage myself.â
instead of bowing and leaving, though, barbatos stands still. his forked tail sways at his feet and his skeletal horns gleam resolutely. after a few moments of deathly silence, you rephrase your dismissal: âi donât need any help, barbatos. i appreciate you checking on me.â
the demon takes a step closer to the bed, his knees nearly knocking against the frame. âyou do not seem to understand me,â barbatos muses, gloved hand delicately resting beneath his chin. if you were less disoriented, you would notice the hint of mirth in his tone. âlord diavolo ordered me to assist you, as he had to leave unexpectedly. i shall honor his wishes.â
the corners of the butlerâs lips curl into a faint smirk, but no humor marks his visage. in fact, there seems to be a primal hunger lurking in the dark, verdant depths of barbatosâs irises. fear beams through your body. it starts in the pit of your stomach and spreads its icy tendrils out through your limbs, biting your fingertips. headache forgotten, you now feel faint; your heart skitters like scared prey. unconsciously, you pull the sheets around you tightly, temporarily shielding yourself from the humiliation that is sure to come.
âthere is nothing to fear, little one,â barbatos soothes, smoothing a hand over your hair, matted with sweat and his masterâs cum. the act is more patronizing than it is comforting.
the demon snaps his fingers and the sheets wrapped around you disappear. you scramble to cover yourself with your hands, but barbatos is infinitely stronger and faster than you are. his forked tailâcold and wetâcoils around your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. another snap of his fingers, and your body is bound with invisible restraints. your arms are stretched above your head, almost painfully so. your legs are spread wide and bent at the knee; no matter how hard you try, you canât move. thereâs even a gag in your mouth to muffle your cries and force you to suck oxygen through your nose.
crouching between your open legs, the butler tsks. âoh my, what a mess.â his tail slithers up your leg and settles atop your womb. the slightest pressure from the appendage causes a stream of diavoloâs cum to rush out of your bruised hole. the demonâs snakelike tongue darts out and tastes the semen that is now pooled beneath your ass.
bartabosâs eyes meet yours and he smiles something wicked. âletâs get you cleaned upâshall we?â
#the banner is a detail from hieronymus boschâs triptych âthe garden of earthly delightsâ#dividers are my own!#the garden of earthly delights#kinktober 2023#obey me smut#barbatos smut#diavolo smut#barbatos x reader#diavolo x reader#obey me x reader#tw dark content#tw dubcon#tw noncon#tw yandere#tw knotting#tw monsterfucking#àŒ kae writes
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lap girl (2)
summary. daryl needs comfort at the greene farm after he fails to find sophia again. luckily his girl is willing to give him exactly what he needs; her in his lap
warnings. fluff, angst mentions of darylâs childhood abuse, mentions of death, swearing
divider credits. @cafekitsune
greene farm
It was a new place, and they didnât belong, and were only welcome due to the miss-aim of Otis. If he had hadnât ricocheted a bullet into Carl, then their group that had travelled from Atalanta to the CDC and then some, would never have found this little piece of solace. Darylâs eyes squinted beneath the glaring sun as he sought out the figure that had brazen themself to be absorbed in the daylight, feeling safe since there were barbed fences separating them from the wilderness in which the dead freely roamed. Y/n was enjoying the quiet that surrounded her, sitting upon the blades of grass that handed no threat in her direction.
It was pleasant to see her so peaceful, she wasnât running for her life, or scavenging for scraps to replenish her hunger, she was instead still, and content in being so. But feeling secure wasnât enough; it wouldnât last, it never did. Theyâd eventually be sent on their way back to the trailing lands that had lead them here in the first place. The road was cruel, and it would only get worse when winter devoured them with the hardships of its crisp air.
And Daryl resented the foreshadowed thought, as they would need more supplies and warm food, and a fire big enough to bring heat to them all. The embers would only attract the undead and threaten them with even more loss, and whilst Daryl wasnât particularly fond of many people in the group, he had somehow integrated within its ties after Merleâs absence.
Merle had left him before, in the worst possible way - alone with their father William Dixon. He understood that his elder brother had wanted to escape from the abusive entrapment, and thus he had allowed Daryl to be single-handedly foreseen by their parent as a punching bag; and worse. He still had the scars that were far too prominent over his body, they were askew like lines in a map, permanent and hadnât faded since the sharp indents that had once been bloody had healed.
He resonated in a ying and yang parallel with Carol, the mother of Carol. She was distraught with Sophiaâs fleet, already grieving her loss when there was nothing sufficed to state that she was either dead or alive, and Daryl felt responsible to uncover the reality that encased the child, to bring comfort to not only her mourning mother, but the rest of the group. It was an unsure journey that he had already been scathed from, a bullet that only with luck grazed his temple, and an arrow that was plunged from the long fall into his side, but he needed to do this.
Daryl knew what it felt like to be alone when he had been of the same age as Sophia, however he had discovered a loophole through the tormenting years prior to the contagion that infected the human vessel; there was a girl. He had been instantaneously drawn to her, although at first he had wanted to keep his distance, heâd never allowed anyone close. But she made him see the sun shine in every smile that composed itself upon her face and each glimmer that reflected in her eyes.
She made him feel safe. And so here he was, seeking her out as the gauze remained attached to his head, and if anyone saw him he was sure he would look like a fool. The normally obscure and grouchy Daryl appeared giddy as he stepped towards his human lifeline, his footsteps uncoordinated as he felt the ache in his side brew.
At the sound of shuffling fabric behind her, y/nâs head whipped around, she knew better than to just assume that there was no danger that could appear out of nowhere. Even with the serene tranquility that was deranging her viewpoint from the world that had began feasting on itself, there was always the risk that getting too comfortable would end in death. And Daryl smirked at the sight of the blade that shone from the sun in her hand.
âThought you were a walker you ass!â She exclaimed, her mouth widening in a teeth baring smile. Her blade was placed back in its hiding spot as she felt the need to aid Daryl in seating himself next to her, her palm remaining against his bare arm. âI kicked Andreaâs ass after her shit shot, told her to get Herschel check her eyesight.â Daryl shook his head lightly as to not cause any more disturbance to his injury, promptly nudging her with his shoulder as he allowed himself to laugh at her protective demeanour towards the blonde.
âYer real funny sunshine.â His rare smile was prominent as he endearingly looked at his girl, wrapping his arm around the back of her relaxed shoulder blades as he brought her closer. But close was still not close enough. âCâmere.â Daryl agilely helped her climb onto his lap, the place he reserved solely for her, his rough yet tender hands remaining on her hips as he brought his face near to y/nâs, rubbing their noses together in a sweet eskimo kiss.
He was exhausted, and he felt like a failure, but she was the only comfort that he needed. Her form was facing his own, and she brushed her featherlight fingertips against his cheekbones, sparing a glare to the dressing. âWeâll find her.â She whispered gently, shutting her eyelids as she melted into him. âBut for now you need to rest honey, Iâm not having you wear yourself into the ground.â His head rested against her collarbone, inhaling her presence as he tried not to be frustrated with himself.
It wasnât his fault that Sophia had ran for her life off of the highway, and he wasnât guilt for being unable to find anything other than her stuffed toy. His hands ran up and down y/nâs back as he buried his head in the crook of her neck, finally taking a break from his daily searching. He just needed his girl planted in his lap, and all his qualms and insecurities became minor.
#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon fluff#daryl dixon smut#daryl dixon angst#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon fic#twd x reader
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thinking abt the contrast between jimmy's violence and swansea mercy-killing daisuke.
everything jimmy does feels gratuitous. for the smallest example, he escalates curly's (seemingly calmly stated) bad news into hostility and accusations - and it only gets more severe when we start seeing things from his perspective. it's all laid out right there in front of us, whether we like it or not; we watch him, help him, carve into curly's leg and feed it to him, and dehumanise anya, and shoot swansea point-blank. even when he's forcing medicine down curly's throat and the game mercifully fades to black, we still aren't spared the sound of him gagging and sobbing and choking on it - and every time curly is on screen, he's an unavoidable, stark reminder of jimmy's violence. it's everywhere you turn.
swansea putting daisuke out of his misery is, in comparison, heartwrenchingly tactful. he tells him to close his eyes (something that curly can't do, doesn't have the choice to do anymore - even as the credits roll he's still left staring helplessly, no fade to black), and as he does so, the camera pans and retreats until his entire head is obscured. not only do we not see the impact, but we don't hear it either, since the audio cuts out. for the actual moment of daisuke's death, we as the audience don't actually see any of the blood and gore of it all, just the sombre lead-up - and it's only when we switch back to jimmy's perspective that we see it. and it's only through jimmy's hallucinations(?) and actions through the rest of the game that we keep seeing it.
#this game is drilling its way into my brain and i am abnormal <3#og#horror tag#mouthwashing#mouthwashing game#mouthwashing spoilers#mouthwashing jimmy#mouthwashing curly#captain curly#mouthwashing swansea#mouthwashing daisuke#mouthwashing anya#gore tw#cannibalism tw#autocannibalism tw#abuse tw#violence tw#hallucinations tw#spoilers
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