#dark forest profile

[residences-of-the-darkforest]

Dark Forest Residences: Fathomcry & Goldenrue

Fathomcry

Aliases / Nicknames: Flint, Fathompaw

Gender: male

Sexuality: demisexual

Family: Quiver (mother), Gravel (father), Goldenrue (mate)

Other Relations: Goldenrue (mentor [Clan]), Marshglare (mentor [rogue])

Clan: BayClan (Southern)

Rank: warrior

Characteristics: vengeful, obsessive

Murder Motive: vengeance

Number of Victims: 5+

Number of Murders: 4+

Murder Method: varies

Known Victims: Dunestream, Harebreeze, Stoat, Pikefin, Driftbite, Goldenrue

Victim Profile: Clan cats who hurt rogues

Cause of Death: old age

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story: 

Flint would never forget the sight of his father's dead body.

Nor would he forget the sight of his savior.

Goldenrue had rushed in, demanding what happened from Dunestream.

"He tried to kill me."

Flint had shaken his head from where he was crouched underneath the bush. Dunestream hadn't seen him. But Goldenrue had, and shushed him when Dunestream wasn't looking.

Flint heard the gossip a little later. Dunestream had been thrown out, on the testimony of Goldenrue. Flint would have just lived his life, if not for the stories.

Sawdust, an exiled cat who had created a small colony of cats who would test others. Rehabilitate them. Or kill them.

Sawdust had died a long time ago, but his legacy lived on. Flint wanted to be part of that. Marshglare, a cat who had been left to die by another apprentice of Sawdust, thought he was ready as well.

So he grew up, getting lessons from the other rogues around the city, or training himself.

When the time was right, he caught a rabbit shortly outside the city, and brought it to the leader. Driftstar had retired, so Ospreystar was the current leader of Southern BayClan. She let him join as an apprentice, and there he was. Goldenrue.

Everything was in position, and it was time for him to start his work.

Harebreeze, a cat who would always back up the falsities of the other warriors, was his first victim. A bear trap, an old favorite of Sawdust's apprentices. Though it made Marshglare tense to look at it.

Fathompaw and Goldenrue were sent to investigate it. Fathompaw fought hard to keep down his excitement. Goldenrue could see his work. He wasn't really upset, he just didn't understand yet.

And then, Marshglare showed off something incredible he had been born with.

Cavecrawl's spirit was summoned, and it spoke to the senior warriors gathered to investigate the murder of Harebreeze.

The mangled spirit spoke of a reformation, telling the warriors that they have fallen into darkness. Harebreeze failed, would they do the same?

Next up was Finchback. This one was personal for Fathompaw. Well, not really. Finchback had left Goldenrue alone, while the two were chasing down two stray dogs. Goldenrue gained a nasty scar that day. If he had died, Driftstar wouldn't have left Finchback alive. Fathompaw was glad he had. That meant he could have all the fun to himself.

This time, he recruited Stoat, a rogue with a pretty fast running speed, to lure the dogs to Finchback, who he had knocked out and dropped into a tangle of silver thorns. He promised that if Finchback got out, he would call the dogs off.

Finchback didn't get out, and Fathompaw hoped to everything and everyone that he didn't imagine the positive look in Goldenrue's eyes when looking at the gory scene.

And then, to allow himself to set up the tests more frequently, he faked his death. Skinning Stoat after the cat fell ill, the blood covered up the differing scents and the fur color was similar enough.

He went after Pikefin next. A cat who covered up the cruelties of BayClan. She drowned, and it was beautiful. To get rid of the ones who had hurt so many. To watch Goldenrue put the pieces together, and go and find his old friend.

Before the biggest test yet, Marshglare decided he was ready, and gave Fathompaw a warrior name. Fathomcry.

This one was a dual act. Slicing the back of Dunestream's legs, throwing him into a ditch in a cavern, and placing Goldenrue on a nearby ledge. Giving him a choice.

Dunestream died, and a flicker of movement had Goldenrue chasing down Marshglare in the tunnels connecting the cavern to the surface.

Fathomcry revealed himself, smiling as he told Goldenrue of his true identity.

And then....

Goldenrue

Aliases / Nicknames: My Savior, Angel, Love of my Life

Gender: male

Sexuality: bisexual

Family: Breezesting (mother), Driftbite/star (father), Fathomcry (mate)

Other Relations: Dunestream (mentor), Fathomcry (apprentice)

Clan: BayClan

Rank: warrior

Characteristics: exasperated, defensive, distrustful, heart of gold

Murder Motive: protect innocent cats

Number of Victims: 6+

Number of Murders: 6+

Murder Method: N/A

Known Victims: Various warriors

Victim Profile:  Clan cats who hurt rogues

Cause of Death: old age

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story: 

"It's time for your final test."

Goldenrue's fur bristled. Fathompaw--No, right, he was Fathomcry now, turned and gestured for him to follow. He did, trying to instill anger and resentment in every step. The resentment was deeper, though.

There really was nobody he could trust.

The tunnel opened up into a larger cavern, where Driftbite hung from an old Twoleg fishing hook. A spirit, the crushed limbs making the identity clear. Cavecrawl was holding into the chains of the hook, looking down at the confrontation with interest. Outside, Marshglare was leading several warriors of BayClan on a wild goose chase.

Fathomcry stood in front of Goldenrue.

"I have an offer for you. Goldenrue, you took a stand against the cat who killed my father. What did that get you? There's nobody in BayClan you can trust. Nobody except for me."

Goldenrue was about to point out how incredibly stupid that was considering the situation he was in, but Fathomcry didn't give him a chance to talk.

"I mean, Finchback abandoning you. That fox-heart won't get to repeat that mistake. And Harebreeze, I wouldn't have started off with him, but he covered up for so many other atrocities. You, Goldenrue, you're different. Find me the best targets, and I'll do the rest. You wouldn't even get your paws dirty."

Goldenrue squinted at Fathomcry, who did really seem hopeful about this. "You....want me...to help you kill my Clanmates?"

"Just the bad ones. They aren't really your Clanmates, are they? None of them trusted you, none of them even liked you." Fathomcry replied.

"....Okay."

"Okay?"

"I'm in. But let Driftbite go."

Fathomcry's face fell. "Just a second." He turned around, looking at Cavecrawl. "You know what to do." He turned back to Goldenrue.

"I'm going to give you a choice. You go with me, you join me. Your father dies, like he deserves to. You could try and attack me, which results in the same fate for your father. Or you could free him. Kill me, we lose. Free your father, and I lose the battle but not the war. Join me, and this is the happiest day of my life."

Now, that was something Goldenrue was going to unpack later, but not now.

"Driftbite, when he was the leader, let certain things slide. Why did Dunestream feel free to kill my father? Because Driftbite let him. The Clan felt safer because the warriors were willing to kill innocents."

Goldenrue looked from his father to Fathomcry, back and forth, back and forth, until....

He lunged, taking the narrow path up to where Cavecrawl was languishing. The spirit gave a bored nod, and dragged the hook over to solid ground. Fathomcry sighed, and began to walk towards the tunnel out.

Things happened fast after that. Marshglare burst out of a tunnel that led straight to Driftbite and Goldenrue, followed by a few warriors too many then what they had thought. Goldenrue bolted down the path and to Fathomcry. One of the warriors went for Cavecrawl while Marshglare escaped, and went right through the spirit, slamming into Driftbite. The fall killed him.

Fathomcry escaped. Marshglare escaped.

Goldenrue was left to deal with the aftermath.

-------

"Hey."

".....Hey."

"You know what I said was true."

"I know. I just need some time to think."

"I understand."

-------

"Let's do this."

-------

Marshglare sighed in contentment as he rested his head on the shoulder of Cavecrawl. "It's nice. I think he's the only one of us who tried to follow Sawdust's teachings to die of old age, and to die happily."

Cavecrawl rolled his eyes. "What, you didn't die happy?"

Marshglare smiled. "I couldn't be happy until I was able to touch you again."

"Oh, and who's fault is that?" Cavecrawl responded.

Marshglare ducked his head. "....Mine."

Additional Information:

--Submission by @frightnightindustries

--Quiver is a distant relative of Rabbithollow.

--Warrior cats version of William Schenk from Spiral: From the Book of Saw. Took some liberties with the story. After Driftbite dies, it goes to fully original.

Also Warrior Cats version of Ezekiel Banks from Spiral: From the Book of Saw. Rue is also a synonym for regret

--BayClan has four sections. Northern, Southern, Eastern, Western. It's a massive clan in an abandoned city based off of Baltimore.

--Fathomcry was warrior aged when he became Goldenrue's apprentice. People who know about Saw, try and guess who Sawdust, Marshglare, and Cavecrawl are.

--Goldenrue is the one who matches Game of Life, Fathomcry is the one who matches Gasoline.

--Other notable residents of BayClan: literal poster child for cannibalism, falcon tamer with a brain disease, someone who fell into a brick, someone who killed his cheating mate, child who is done with this shit and part eldritch moor.

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Dark Forest Resident: Hollylion

Aliases / Nicknames: Bitch, Cheating Bitch, The Worst Mate Ever, Disloyal Foxheart, Heartbreaker, Dearheart, My love, Sweetie

Gender: female

Sexuality: heterosexual

Family: Goldsting (mother), Airnettle (father), Poolflake (aunt), Splinterwisp (uncle), Elderfleck (sister), Chasmmoon, Pricklestar (brothers), Torndrop, Boulderbloom, Sleekspike, Olivedapple, Mallowspots, Ratspeckle, Frigidshock, Stoneslash, Volcanonoise, Burdockpaw, Goosefluff, Ripplefrost, Cresspaw, Smokehare, Minnowspore (daughters), Shinefur, Echoheart, Scorchhaze, Pearpaw, Nettlefoot, Shatterram, Daffodilstripe, Nutpad, Fawnfleck, Fluffyheather, Birdfluff, Sootseeker, Flipjump, Jaypaw, Bluekit, Brightlily (sons), Laurelmurk, Archpatch, Summitdusk (granddaughters) Poolthrush, Shalequake (grandsons), Splashstar (grandmother) Jumpmask (grandfather), Pearfeather, Tabasco, Zelda, Chiquito, Alyconefleck (former mates)

Other Relations: unnamed mentor, Jaypaw, Boulderbloom (former apprentices)

Clan: Thunderclan

Rank: elder

Characteristics: cheats on mates, charismatic, connection to the Dark Forest

Number of Victims: 41

Number of Murders: 0

Method of Harm: cheating on mate, dragging her kits into her mess

Known Victims: Pearfeather, Tobasco, Fork, Zelda, Lazlo, Shadowkite Chiquito, Burrowfur, Lilacpatch, Burnetspot, Shinefur, Echoheart, Scorchhaze, Pearpaw, Nettlefoot, Shatterram, Daffodilstripe, Nutpad, Fawnfleck, Fluffyheather, Birdfluff, Sootseeker, Flipjump, Jaypaw, Bluekit, Brightlily, Torndrop, Boulderbloom, Sleekspike, Olivedapple, Mallowspots, Ratspeckle, Frigidshock, Stoneslash, Volcanonoise, Burdockpaw, Goosefluff, Ripplefrost, Cresspaw, Smokehare, Minnowspore

Victim Profile: mates, kits (indirectly)

Cause of Death: heart attack

Cautionary Tale: heartbreak has consequences

Story:

When she was a kit, she dreamed of having a loving mate. Pearfeather wasn’t that though. Always ‘too busy’ to spend time with her.

So who could blame her for seeking attention from others?

Tabasco was fun for a while.

When Pearfeather died, she turned to her new mate, Zelda, for a time, but he was so boring! Always so nervous around everyone.

So she may have messed around a bit.

And Zelda may have hated her by the end of their relationship, but it was fine, because she had a new mate!

But then Chiquito got mad because she had an affair, so she may have gotten a new mate, but then he died, so back to Zelda it was.

She ended up having a whopping 31 kits, and even loved some of them.

Sure Sootseeker murdered two of his siblings, but most of them turned out ok! So what was the big deal?

It wasn’t like a lifetime of breaking hearts could have consequences…

Additional Information:

--Submission by @ambitiousauthor

--Ambitious: "I have discovered the ‘have affair’ button on Lifegen"

--Her kits are listed as victims bc their mom constantly having blatant affairs really messed them up.

--For a split second I thought that this was extreme of StarClan to condemn her for this but then I remembered all of Squirrelflight's Hope.

[hisbodycorpse]

This is my design, 1990.

En las sombras, te veo.

[tyudeongis]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀₊ 𓋫 . 🌱 ⍋

[bonefall]

Better Bones Profile: Houndleap

"The horrifying eldritch fallen angel likes ME best because I'm hot"

[ID: The Better Bones AU version of Houndleap from Warrior Cats. He is a black-and-white tom with ginger flecks in his black parts, and a fluffy white tail tuft. His ears are burned away, and he has orange, swirly keloid scars. He also has a heart-shaped paw pad.]

Here by popular request! Holy MOLY you all jumped on the offhanded manwhore comment lmao.

Houndleap's a great example of cats who are in the Dark Forest for breaking non-violent commandments. The only thing he's killing is the gene pool, with his 6 known mates and the 16 kittens between them all. No, he wasn't in love with them all either, he just liked to play the game.

He is as close to the ideal Clan cat as one can get, and he knows it, and flaunts it. Tri-colored with beautiful ginger flecks, he fell victim to a terrible moor fire and came out with severe burns. His surviving was already a great mark of strength, but then he became even luckier when his shiny scars raised, and slightly spread from the initial injury.

Clan cats didn't have a word for keloids, they only knew it was gorgeous. As if StarClan had given him a scar that dances and shimmers.

Houndleap "abused" this gift, seeing as many cats as possible and cheating on his 'official' mate back home. In the modern era, he might have just been a very popular Honor Sire, but this was before the Queen's Rights and the Aftergathering. He was eventually caught, and after his death, he was banished to the Dark Forest for violating the Law of Loyalty on more than 5 counts.

Yes. More than 5 counts. StarClan was able to see that he had even more than 5 halfclan mates (and they're not even counting the wife he cheated on) but only 5 got pregnant.

Alignment: Dark Forest, ex-WindClan

Time Period: Skyfall Era

Relations: Too fucking many

Houndleap's addition to the Dark Forest is Lover's Beck, a twisted, romantic version of a spot in the Gorge where he used to meet with his secret lovers. It's his worst memory because he planned poorly and two of them showed up at the same time and that's how he got caught.

More trivia below!

Canon said he's solid-colored and I said no. Pretty boy.

There are several minor features in his design that will be seen in modern family lines. I won't point them out but there's 3 total (so far.)

I decided to use him as an example of nearly ideal beauty standards in BB, since I famously overhauled them from canon. He is brightly colored with complicated patterns, slightly chunky, and has a HUGE scar on the face.

Personality is slut. He just wants to flirt, man. Theme song is Mambo #5 he's just like that.

He works with Tigerstar in OotS mostly because it's not like there's anything better to do. Plus some of the trainees are hot, "hellooooo Ratscar"

When Antpelt dies, Houndleap is one of the cats who needs the most convincing to come back into the alliance. It's one thing when it's funny haha Attack And Dethrone God or whatever, but PERMAdeath??

Thankfully, Hawkfrost is a fantastic diplomat.

Generally, Houndleap is motivated by whatever's fun. He was one of the first to fall in line under Ashfur and will do basically anything if he's bored.

"We're teaching people how to kill? sure lmao. Oh we're attacking the living? Ok cool. Guard the prisoners? Not like I had plans anyway. Anyway wanna get evil dinner later, handsome <3 ?"

Likes drama, tea, stories, games, anything that brings him a little excitement really.

He can usually be counted on to join whatever silly project the group's up to this time, like catching Shrewpaw's Pheasant.

I cannot stress enough how much of a normal Crummy Dude he is. He's just some standard jerkwad guy. The Dark Forest in Better Bones contains several people like him, who might be sleazeballs or jackasses, but we would generally agree don't deserve Hell.

When canon comes up with a Houndleap backstory, I'll consider what to do with it. But for now we only know that Hound came from WindClan, which I've included.

[know-it-all-freak]

Paul McGann's (perfect) profile, Part 2

[girl-hobbit]

🌿🍄My bedroom wall decor🕯️🍁🌿

[suskindkore]

Acid Witch (dump)

credit: suskind

En postant le set de bannières, je me suis dit qu’avant de continuer les nouveaux autant faire un dump de ce qui traîne sur mon pc (essentiellement des trucs pour mes anciens personnages). Plutôt que ça reste dans un dossier, pourquoi pas les partager ✨ Ce sera plus ou moins récent, mais si ça peut rendre service !

[marmotclaw]

Ashfur

Name meaning: Grey furred

Short furred blue spotted tabby tom (he/him) with dark blue eyes, he has short, thick fur and a torn ear

Cause of death: Killed by Hollyleaf

Cause of Spirit death: drowned

Family and Education

Mother: Brindleface

Father: Darkstripe

Brother: Tulipkit

Adopted Brother: Cloudtail

Sisters: Ferncloud, Moorkit

Mentor: Dustpelt

Apprentices: Birchfall, Lionblaze

Personality

INFP

Rebel Evil

Social

Platonic Love: Birchfall, Brindleface, Cloudtail, Ferncloud, Moorkit, Tulipkit

Romantic Love: Bristlefrost, Squirrelflight

Best Friend(s): Thornclaw

Friend(s): Bramblestar, Dustpelt, Hawkfrost

Mixed feelings: Berrynose

Enemies: Alderheart, Bristlefrost, Firestar, Greystripe, Hollyleaf, Jayflight, Lionblaze, Shadowsight, Sparkpelt, Spotfur, Squirrelflight, Stemleaf, Tigerstar

Favourite food: Pheasant

[thejaymo]

A Machine-Made Mirror | Weeknotes

The notion that the internet will become flooded with machine-generated sludge is something I’ve written about before. It’s always felt like a distant storm on the horizon. But nothing prepared me for how soon I’d see my own reflection in the sludgy waters of the machine web. A Machine-Made Mirror Until the other day I hadn't come across any obvious LLM written media. To have the first one I encounter BE ABOUT ME is surreal and weird.

[hairyjocktf]

Fire in the Forest

Adam sighed deeply as he unlocked the door to his apartment. The familiar scent of old laundry and takeout boxes washed over him as the door swung open. He slid his bag off his shoulder onto the floor and slumped onto the couch. Today had been one of the worst days of his life, to put it mildly. The company he’d slaved away for since graduating a few years ago had unexpectedly let him go as part of cost cutting measures. Every late night he’d spent at the office suddenly hit him as a waste, his hard work had never mattered to those up top. Adding insult to injury was his paltry severance package; with his rent it’d barely last two weeks. He wouldn’t even have time to breathe before having to find a new job.

Before he knew it he’d passed out sitting on the couch, waking up hours later to a dark sky out the window. Shit, he muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes before forcing his body up and off the couch. He tossed a frozen meal into the microwave before setting his laptop up on the table. With the microwave humming in the background he started visiting websites of companies he knew of in the same sphere. Career page after career page yielded no luck. He grabbed his food from the beeping microwave and continued to solemnly scroll through page after page of indeed listings, applying to every one he could convince himself he was qualified for. Soon enough it was two in the morning, and Adam decided to call it quits. He cleaned up his now very cold dinner and went to the bathroom to splash some water on his face and clean up for bed. His red hair glowed under the ceiling light, looking almost like fire. It was one of his more attractive qualities, he thought to himself, looking at his skinny frame and ghostly skin. He flipped off the lights and hopped into bed.

It was around ten the next morning that Adam finally crawled out of bed. He grabbed his phone off the desk and quickly checked for any job notifications. There was only one, and not one he recognized. It was a recruitment email from a logging company, Cascade Lumber. He skimmed over the email, they’d “found” his profile online and thought he’d be a good fit for a lumberjack role? That was ridiculous, he thought, and closed out of his email. Frustrated at no actual leads, he decided to take a walk for the morning and get back to searching that afternoon. While out trying to enjoy the rare sunny day, that email stuck in his mind. Really? A lumberjack? It was absurd, insulting almost. He was a software developer, not some country laborer. He got back to his apartment and threw himself back into the search, sending out applications one after another. The next day was much of the same, desperately trying to find more niche positions that might be hiring. Still no responses, though. Each day he became a little more stressed, a little more frantic in his search. How had no one responded yet? He had plenty of qualifications and experience, he didn’t understand the problem.

Two weeks had passed and Adam was against a wall. His severance cash was nearly dried up, and still nothing had come through, not even an interview. Even his connections had fallen through. With the bills starting to pile up on the counter, he was out of options. That was when he remembered the email from weeks before. At this point it couldn’t hurt to respond, maybe they had a tech position he could weasel into. He wrote a short response and sent it off. Just minutes later, as Adam was in the middle of making lunch, his phone buzzed. They’d responded already, inviting him out to their office. The address was nearly an hour out west, but what choice did he have?

The next morning he was on his way out of the city, high rises giving way to fields and then forest. Dense groves alternated with barren patches of recently logged areas, letting sunlight down to the road. He pulled down a narrow road and a few minutes later parked in front of a modest building tucked into the trees. His car was surrounded by huge trucks filled to the brim with tree trunks, as well as some large machinery he couldn’t identify. Upon walking inside he was greeted with a dim room full of old logging gear. He heard the footsteps of someone large approaching, before a huge man descended the stairs to greet him. He looked enormous in this small room, almost scraping the ceiling, and his frame was equally wide. His open shirt revealed a forest of hair on his chest, and his beard was incredibly thick. Adam suddenly felt very intimidated, despite the large smile on the man’s face.

“Hey there! You must be Adam, so glad you took us up on visiting. We really think you’d be a great asset on the team. Whoa! I’m getting ahead of myself, the name’s Derek,” he reached out his absolute paw of a hand. With a shake Derek immediately began touring Adam around the office. Derek was overwhelming with his enthusiasm, but also in his assumption that Adam had agreed to start working there. He didn’t have another option, but they didn’t know that. They got into Derek’s truck and he drove off into the forest towards a work site. The majority of the information Derek was spitting out went in one ear and out the other, but Adam tried to look as engaged as he could. The truck came to a screeching halt in an area they were currently clearing. The sound of chainsaws was like nails on a chalkboard to Adam as they stepped out of the truck. In the distance he saw machinery whirring away cutting trees, as well as men harnessed up with saws. Derek went into more detail about working in an active logging site, the dangers and safety measures. Adam was instead busy looking at the men working nearby. They had on hard hats and bright orange vests overtop thick jackets or flannels. They all looked big and burly, like they’d been lifting for years. Adam wasn’t sure how in Derek’s mind he would be able to do anything here.

“...and I think that just about covers most of it. Oh! And the salary is $55k per year, with annual raises and benefits. We try to do right by our guys here,” Derek smiled at Adam. That number had finally gotten his attention. Nothing close to his old job, but better than zero. In a decision that probably warranted some more thought, Adam opened his mouth.

“Great, when do I start?”

Derek’s smile doubled in size and he slapped Adam on the back. “That’s my man, let’s get you all set up then while you’re out here,” he said. They both got back into Derek’s truck and drove back to the office. Inside Adam was handed the same hat and vest he saw the men at the site wearing.

“Now that’s just the basics, you’ll probably want some heavy clothing while on the job, and get yourself some good boots while you’re at it,” he chuckled, looking down at Adam’s aging vans shoes. Adam thanked him and walked back to his car. Still unsure of this whole venture, Adam departed. On the way back he stopped at some workwear stores, looking for boots and clothes to fit the job. Having no idea what he actually needed, he just looked for the closest things to what he remembered the guys there wearing. Close enough, right?

Back at his apartment he cautiously tried on all the clothing he’d just gotten. To his surprise, it all fit fairly well, despite his body being much smaller than most of the guys out there. His thin frame looked bulkier under a thick layer of protective and warm clothing. He almost… liked how it looked? Adam quickly put that thought out of his head and stripped off the gear. The sun was already dipping below the horizon and he had to be out there early in the morning from now on. 

The alarm came even sooner than he thought. Adam rolled out of bed at four in the morning, and was out the door as soon as he could get himself together. The air was chilly outside, with not even a hint of the sunrise yet in the darkness. He drove straight to the site Derek had assigned him to, finding a group of men chatting together while donning their equipment. Adam introduced himself, and began putting on his own assigned gear. The day flew by as several other guys instructed Adam on how things worked. He was more keen to pay attention to everything this time, listening intently to each burly man who showed him how to use a chainsaw. By the end of the day he’d felled a few trees and learned the basics of the larger machinery the team used. Despite it being cool all day, Adam was sweating up a storm in his thick coat. Maybe he’d overestimated how much layering was needed. The drive home felt shorter than it had the day before, but Adam was frustrated at a recurring itch on his jaw, it just kept coming back no matter how much he scratched at it.

The next few days were much of the same, Adam’s time was highly supervised while he was learning, but he was surprised at how easily he took to it. His original plan of finding a tech position to switch to had already been forgotten. The other lumberjacks seemed to like Adam as well, despite his scrawny stature. His red hair made him easy to point out, even though it was usually covered by a hard hat. The itch on his face reared its head a few more times, as Adam’s baby smooth face was slowly overtaken by a light red stubble. Each day it would poke out just a hair more, reaching out from his chin towards his sideburns. Adam failed to notice this, just as he was blind to the muscle his skinny body had started to put on. In just a week he’d gained serious definition, he had slight pecs and shoulders, and his arms looked like he’d been working out for years. Must be the intensity of the job, he thought to himself when one of his old t-shirts no longer fit. As the days passed, his stubble connected across his face, and some wispy hairs poked out of his growing pecs. Barely noticeable, but there nonetheless.

The weeks continued to pass as Adam got settled into his position. He started to feel like a real lumberjack as trees fell by his hand day by day. He began to fit in more with the other men as well. His bright red stubble thickened. Hairs that were barely more than peach fuzz grew thick and pushed out into a true short beard. The wisps on his chest likewise grew thicker, curlier, as more pressed out of his pecs. The red hairs grew and wove together until the hairy coating could no longer be ignored. His chest hair was normally kept beneath multiple layers, until one of his fellow loggers spotted the rug while he was changing. The crew gave him their old flannels and forced him to wear them and let some of the fiery red hair poke out. They all loved it, he was looking like them with their thick beards and hairy chests. The tiny new hire was quickly vanishing beneath muscle and fur, as the hairs on his chest spread downwards over his tight stomach.

Adam began noticing that each day he would leave work absolutely soaked in sweat. His layers just absorbed it leaving him a sopping mess as the job was so labor intensive. It didn’t bother him, he just bought more work clothes to cycle through, but he was oblivious to the other effects it was having. Adam’s body, steeping in sweat all day, was producing more and more. Not only that, his previously bare pits began sprouting fine red hairs. At first it was just a few thin hairs poking out, but as they were soaked in sweat they grew thicker. More hairs popped out of the damp pit, filling in rapidly. His once smooth pits were growing into a dense jungle of hair, the hairs thick and red, tangling together into a tuft that trapped even more sweat and stench. They spread out of the confines of his pit, connecting with the pelt on his chest and beginning to pop out across his upper arms. He would dig his fingers into his furry pits to scratch, the hair growing in itching like mad. Each day more hairs pushed out, more sweat was trapped, and the more he smelled like the other men around him.

As the weeks rolled on, Adam kept having to buy new clothes between sweat stains and simply outgrowing them. His body had put on a lot of size since starting, his thin frame bulking out as he grew taller and wider. The weather was growing colder, and the added layers were hiding his growing size, as well as his growing fur. The hair from his pits was continuing its march, with wiry hair cropping up across his shoulders, triceps, and was especially dense on his forearms. Red wispy hairs sprouted all over his upper body, filling in gaps and growing into a thick ginger rug. His body was growing at a rapid rate, biceps filling out and pecs becoming real pillows, but it wasn’t all muscle. His size was softened by a healthy layer of fat that only encouraged more hair to sprout. His already dense chest hair thickened further, red hairs swirling around his nipples and growing longer and curlier. The chest fur grew up and over his shoulders, creating a seamless carpet from his hands through his torso. Even his back was beginning to show signs, as light red fuzz was gathering around his shoulder blades and above his waistline. Hair sprouted out of his shirt collars and poked from his sleeves; even under his layers of clothes his coworkers knew Adam was hiding some impressive fur.

What they couldn’t see was below Adam’s waistline. The fur coat from his stomach slowly inched downwards, the wispy hairs occupying his groin quickly overrun with a thick red bush. The hairs pushed out from the base of his cock, thick and curly they sprouted and tangled together as the bush expanded. The hairs climbed up and connected with the rug on his stomach, and out to his thighs before racing down his thick legs. His pubes grew denser into a thick triangle of red hair, his cock growing larger to not be hidden beneath the jungle. Adam hardly noticed as the bulge in his jeans grew day by day, sweat soaking the area as it developed a thick musk that was barely contained by his underwear. He had to buy larger sizes after his balls swelled considerably, dropping lower than before and sprouting with their own rug of red hair. The hairs spread down over his taint before blossoming in his ass crack, a thick fiery explosion of fur pushing out as the hairs grew like weeds over his large cheeks. His legs grew stockier to support his growing body as the hairs continued their march from the thick nest of pubes. His thighs were coated before it spread to his calves. His feet stretched and ached as they grew multiple sizes in just a few weeks, before too being buried beneath a thick mat of red hair.

Winter finally began showing its ugly face, and Adam’s job grew rougher daily as temperatures plummeted up in the mountains. His body adapted, packing on considerable bulk. Gone was his thin, twinky frame, replaced now by a thick and strong body, built for strength and warmth. His thick muscular frame was coated in a layer of fat to insulate him, and his belly seemed to just keep growing. The fur coat he’d been developing only continued to come in. The red hairs grew thicker and denser every day, pushing against his clothing. His fiery red beard, which had been well kept until now began erupting from his face with a fury. Thick hairs curled over his upper lip as the hairs on his cheeks pushed out inch after inch. More hairs filled in between as the coating crawled higher on his cheeks. It surged down his neck and blended with the thick chest hair. He looked wild, but it kept his face warm from the frigid winds. He even got complimented on it, earning a reputation as a real mountain man from his fellow lumberjacks. Adam had fully adapted to his job, there was no going back. He was now a hairy, hefty lumberjack with a fur coat to rival an animal’s. He’d grown to be one of the best in the crew, each tree felled returning as a hair in his pelt.

[residences-of-the-darkforest]

Dark Forest Resident: Roseriddle

Aliases / Nicknames: Rosie, Wretched She, Traitor

Gender: she-cat

Sexuality: bisexual

Family: unknown Mother, unknown Father, Burnetfeather (Sister), Nectarinekit (Nephew)

Other Relations: unnamed mentor, Blazingbright (brother-in-Law), Twostar (nemesis)

Clan: NocturnClan

Rank: warrior

Characteristics: manipulative, acts sweet, cunning, smooth talker, strategic

Murder Motive: to take down leadership in NocturnClan and remake as ‘better’

Number of Victims: 17

Number of Murders: 1

Murder Method: ripping out throat

Known Victims: cats of NocturnClan, Twostar, and Blazingbright

Victim Profile: her clanmates (manipulated), leader, deputy

Cause of Death: killed by Twostar

Cautionary Tale: leaders are chosen by StarClan for a reason, do not let your opinions of them blind you

Story:

Rosekit and Burnetkit were like two peas in a pod as kits, while their personalities were opposites of each other. Burnet was shy and sweet, Rose was bold and energetic, but a bit of a pathological liar.

While she could be prickly, Rose always wanted the best for her Clan.

Perhaps that’s why she never liked Twostar.

They were always so...Strange, to Roseriddle. It didn’t make sense to her how StarClan could accept Twostar as leader, and so she made herself a goal. She’d become the true leader and make sure NocturnClan was only led by the best. After all, Roseriddle was a good warrior. Cats would trust what she said!

Things started simple, her commenting on the little things. Blazingbright was a good friend of hers, he and her sister loved each other dearly, but was he really the right pick for a deputy? He was young, compared to the many older cats who have served this Clan and deserved such a role. She spilled little white lies that made Twostar worse in the eyes of their Clanmates.

Then the famine came.

Cats were suffering, several dying. It was perfect to sow seeds of doubt about Twostar’s leadership. Why have they been disappearing during this time? Surely they should be staying with their suffering Clan--What are they hiding?

Cats were growing uneasy, and arguments were starting to break loose in camp. The exile of Wardenstare happened, and Roseriddle didn't hesitate to use it as more ammo.

How could they let a cannibal stay?

How could nobody have realized what had happened to poor Rippletide, Mantisclove, and Grassflutter?

The Clan was slowly devolving into discord at her paws, arguments between circles and within inner circles. Of course, Roseriddle watched with contentedness. The Clan would only fix itself once Twostar’s reign was over. It’d force them to stand down, wouldn’t it?

And then she found out the truth.

Twostar had a mate. A loner mate. She took this information she found out to Twostar, giving them an ultimatum: fight for their honor and deal with the ruined reputation, or step down quietly.

Twostar immediately revolted, and any peace that remained in the camp was gone.

Cats started fighting, and Blazingbright attacked Roseriddle when she made a move for Twostar, so she did what she had to do. She ripped his throat out while he hissed that she’d never truly have good intentions for NocturClan.

She stepped away from his corpse, then she got knocked over by Twostar, who ripped her throat apart like a flower in bloom.

Additional Information: 

--Submission by @meowstival

--Burnetfeather did NOT take the death of her mate and sister well, disappearing a moon after the birth of her and Blazingbright’s kit.

--Nectarinekit, her nephew, looks very similar to her--perhaps that’s what led her to choose to communicate with him via his dreams.

--Still wants Twostar dead, even if she has to manipulate her baby nephew to do it, using his fear of one of his Clanmates as ammo. She loves Nectarinekit, she really does, but she hates Twostar more.

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Dark Forest Residences: WolfStar, GoldfishFur, & HollowStar

WolfStar

Aliases / Nicknames: Cursed One, WolfFern, Champion 

Gender: demi-tom 

Sexuality: asexual, demiromantic 

Family: SerpentWing (mother), PuppyNut (father), Rainkit, Bristlekit, Mistlekit (kits), 400+ other family members, 60 who were alive at the same time as him. 

Other Relations: unnamed mentor, HalfSpeckle, BeaverJay, BlotchPad, SmallBlossom, AspenLight, MidnightTail, (apprentices) 

Clan: WolfsfootClan 

Rank: leader 

Characteristics: bloodthirsty, good fighter, reclusive, confidant 

Murder Motive: ambition, fun 

Number of Victims: 80+ 

Number of Murders:  80+ 

Murder Method: luring to fox, clawing/ripping throat out, drowning, shaking to death, disemboweling, skinning, poisoning, hypothermia, burning alive, breaking bones, blunt force, placing maggots into open wounds 

Known Victims: RobinKit, MorningKit, PatchKit, BoulderKit, RunningHare, RaccoonFur, PranceBlossom, PheasantJaw, GoldPelt, BadgerRiver, PinkFoot, TawnyPatch, SheepFang, WolfFeather, BlackKit, DayFur, CrestedSlip, FirePoppy, GrassKit, HayBird, ChasingShade, BristleFur, DuskCatcher, HatchNose, QuickKit, ThunderHorse, BreezeSplash, BriarNose, HollyPaw, SmallBeam, MallowLightening, HeronStorm, SleekDrift, LongRump, JumpLotus, SpiderWhiskers, PrickleFur, BroomDust, HollowStar/Stripe, CicadaStar, WolfFade, NeedlePelt, BitternFur, LarchKit, CrookedStone, PloverTuft, BogEar, BraveSkip, RainFur, FawnSnow, RushWish, FawnLeaf, LoudPelt, BlackSpeckle, ShardSpeck, Jayhorse, BubblingSky, OrangeRoar, HalfSpeckle, TroutPeak, PiperNoise, BeetleShade, DancingWhisker,   BayBlaze, SnapDragonBerry, ShrewHeart, CoconutTooth, GoldPelt, BadgerRiver, many rogues 

Victim Profile: Clanmates, rogues. 

Cause of Death: blood loss from many injuries

Cautionary Tale: beware the quick cats with long legs and sharper claws that haunt the forests

Story: 

WolfFern was born in a very large Clan mostly made out of his kin, but he never got very close to anyone except GoldfishFur. 

WolfFern grew up to be the incredibly ambitious apprentice to the deputy, WolfFade. 

It was truly a shame when sweet, elderly WolfFade showed up dead outside camp after WolfFern was made Champion. 

He didn’t have any issue with killing his mentor. It was just a necessity to become leader. WolfFern spent a moon planning how to get rid of CicadaStar, but in the end he didn’t need to. The anxious, thin leader who never shared how many lives he had left got sick and, to WolfFerns luck, was on his last life. 

Within a moon of becoming a warrior, he was deputy. Within a moon of becoming deputy, he was now leader. 

WolfStar starting killing. Sometimes those who annoyed him, sometimes for fun. 

He began washing his paws very frequently, which his best friend GoldfishFur noticed. GoldfishFur helped him kill many more cats, and forced WolfStar into a code of sorts. Helped him cover his tracks. And in return, GoldfishFur was made deputy. 

Over many moons his kill count grew, and he even found a mate of convenience. He had very few friends, and needed a way to keep connected to the Clan. To seem devoted to them. They had RainKit, MistleKit, and BristleKit together. 

Many, many more Clanmates died, and Wolfstar realized that he didn’t feel any grief in killing any of them, not even his kin. 

He took on many apprentices, and even appointed a Champion: HollowStripe, however he would have to wait until HollowStripe was no longer with kits. 

GoldfishFur helped him commit countless more murders and continued to do so after he retired early from his chronic joint pain in his front leg. BroomDust was an easy deputy to manipulate, but everyone knew GoldfishFur called the shots. 

The only time WolfStar truly grieved for was their father, PuppyNut. Wolfstar never received visions, but that night he prayed for PuppyNut to visit him. 

The secrets, the constant lies and covers, all the small injuries hidden in his long fur caught up to him and he lost it. He killed ten Clancats in front of the clan, and everyone was too scared when GoldfishFur turned on them as well to stand up to the cruel duo. 

And, to his Clan's horror, he began skimming the corpses and piling them in the centre of camp as an example. 

At the next elder's ceremony, he slashed SpiderWhiskers throat out. A couple cats died from the stress, more killed by GoldfishFur and WolfStar. HollowStripe was an easier deputy to manipulate anyway. Eventually WolfStar and GoldfishFur organized an attack with a group of rogues. 

WolfStar died of his injuries, but not before nearly exterminating the Clan. 

GoldfishFur 

Aliases / Nicknames: Two-faced Tom, Goldy

Gender: demitom 

Sexuality: bisexual 

Family: CoconutTooth, WhirlAster (parents), HerringBreeze (mate), GuppyShadow, TallyPaw  (daughters), MilkPaw, KoiPaw (sons) 400+ other family members, 60 who were alive at the same time as him

Other Relations: unnamed mentor, PoppyHeart, LaurelNight (apprentices) 

Clan: WolfsfootClan 

Rank: deputy (retired)

Characteristics: cold, goofy, good kitsitter, manipulative 

Murder Motive: to protect his best friend 

Number of Victims: 80+ 

Number of Murders:  80+ 

Murder Method: luring to fox, clawing/ripping throat out, drowning, shaking to death, disemboweling, skinning, poisoning, hypothermia, burning alive, breaking bones, blunt force. 

Known Victims: RobinKit, MorningKit, PatchKit, BoulderKit, RunningHare, RaccoonFur, PranceBlossom, PheasantJaw, GoldPelt, BadgerRiver, PinkFoot, TawnyPatch, SheepFang, WolfFeather, BlackKit, DayFur, CrestedSlip, FirePoppy, GrassKit, HayBird, ChasingShade, BristleFur, DuskCatcher, HatchNose, QuickKit, ThunderHorse, BreezeSplash, BriarNose, HollyPaw, SmallBeam, MallowLightening, HeronStorm, SleekDrift, LongRump, JumpLotus, SpiderWhiskers, PrickleFur, BroomDust, HollowStar/Stripe, CicadaStar, WolfFade, NeedlePelt, BitternFur, LarchKit, CrookedStone, PloverTuft, BogEar, BraveSkip, RainFur, FawnSnow, RushWish, FawnLeaf, LoudPelt, BlackSpeckle, ShardSpeck, Jayhorse, BubblingSky, OrangeRoar, HalfSpeckle, TroutPeak, PiperNoise, BeetleShade, DancingWhisker,   BayBlaze, SnapDragonBerry, ShrewHeart, CoconutTooth, GoldPelt, BadgerRiver, many rogues 

Victim Profile: Clanmates, rogues. 

Cause of Death: thrown into pit of starving rabid cats, snake bite. 

Cautionary Tale: beware the quick cats with long legs and sharper claws that haunt the forests

Story: 

GoldfishFur got along perfectly with his Clan. In fact, he was very popular.

When he caught WolfStar in the middle of a murder, GoldfishFur killed the cat before it could scream to him for help. 

WolfStar exposing the murders was very against their original plan, but GoldfishFur still used it to his advantage. The Clan now fully trusted him instead. 

He regretted the murders when he saw his Clanmates grieving, and he grieved for all the cats he had killed. One, however, nearly broke him: ChasingShade.

The two were fighting with a fox when GoldfishFur’s weak leg gave out, and the fox tore out ChasingShade's throat. 

When the deputy, BroomDust, spoke badly about WolfStar, GoldfishFur killed him before the Clan as an example. The sweet, goofy cat turning on his family. 

GoldfishFur had kits whom he loved, and desperately tried to keep out of the way of the rogue attack. The Clan fought back, stronger than they’d expected, and GoldfishFur was bitten by a snake after being backed up over the snake rocks. 

Before he could succumb to the venom, he  was torn apart. 

HollowStar

Aliases / Nicknames: HollowHearted Leader, HollowStripes

Gender: tom 

Sexuality: unlabelled 

Immediate Family: DuskCatcher, MallowLightening (parents), ShardKit, BrookLeopard, RubbleShade (daughters) LongKit, GrassKit (sons), many unnamed siblings

Other Relations:

Clan: WolfsfootClan

Rank: leader, Champion 

Characteristics: proud, ambitious, good fighter, excellent den builder

Murder Motive: exterminate all of QuickStar’s descendants 

Number of Victims: 60

Number of Murders: 60 

Murder Method: poisoning via deathberries and lilies, hiring rogues. 

Known Victims: WolfLilac, BrookLeopard, RubbleShade, many unnamed Clan cats

Victim Profile: cats from QuickStar’s family tree 

Cause of Death: neck torn out by wolf 

Cautionary Tale: beware the quick cats with long legs and sharper claws that haunt the forests

Story: 

HollowStar lasted a few moons after he became leader to the once thriving ClubmossClan, now shaken down and beaten from the inside. 

With so many cats having been murdered at the paws of WolfStar and GoldfishFur, the lan was left in shambles. Cats turning on each other, Clans spreading word of curses. It was all too much. They had to be right! It was all a curse! 

For decades, the Clans have been plagued by QuickStars legacy. It had to end. But first, HollowStar had something to do first. 

He only killed one cat directly, and that was WolfLilac. He couldn’t stand to hear her name called across camp. 

She was fierce, and put up a big fight. He earned a couple scratches along his back in exchange for her life. 

Next, he gathered as much deathberries as possible alongside his two surviving daughters, born secretly to a rogue and haven grown up in Twolegplace. They were young, and listened to him out of an eagerness to impress their father. 

They squeezed the deathberries into the pond, and within a day, half the Clan was seizing, frothing at the mouth, and convulsing on the ground by the drinking pond. 

His daughters waited patiently by his side while the screams slowed, more and more surviving cats deserting. If they were of QuickStar’s decent, they were swiftly disposed of by some rogues who were helping in exchange for safe passage through the forest. 

His daughters should have checked the prey he’d given them, for maybe they would have noticed the lily petals left inside it the day prior. 

It was finally over! Starclan would be so proud of him! 

The scent of blood quickly overtook the forest, leaving HollowStar in the middle. He should have realized that the starving wolves would have been interested in the easy meal.

Additional Information: 

--Submission by @wills-woodland-warriors

--Wolf:

Wills: "I left a lot out, but he’s one of my favourites and is incredibly interesting. He hid that he was killing for years from his clan. He never had an attachment to his kits or mate, only ever getting close with GoldfishFur and HollowStripe."

*He drove the Xlan mad. No one was brave enough to stand up to him. 

*He’s a very big and strong cat, and he’s about as ruthless as Alder/Myrtle and GremlinFrost. 

--Gold:

Wills: "also a very interesting cat from clangen, and again one of my favourites."

*Almost all events from these two stories are from clangens generated story itself!  cv Clangen Images are  from the brief moments he was in starclan during his trial. 

--Hollow:

*Few of QuickStar’s decendants possibly got away, but not very many. 

*HollowStripe was actually a very sweet child before WolfStar took him under his wing (arm? Paw?) 

*The end of QuickStar’s legacy! 

[sapphiremusings]

bride | vampire!aemond targaryen

cw: explicit smut, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), dubcon, loss of virginity, breeding kink, blood drinking

Only the light from the full moon shines down between branches and leaves, illuminating her way as she walks through the forest rarely traveled. She doesn’t know how she got here, still in her shift and robe that has been thrown over her shoulders half-heartedly, the forest floor crunching underneath her slippers, yet an unknown force seemingly presses her forward. Her mind is in a daze, heart thrumming against her chest sporadically and her ears feeling as if they are under water, and through her vision is a fog that refuses to leave, no matter how many times she rubs her eyes. Up ahead, through the heavy brush, sits the abandoned castle that was once called Harrenhal, an accursed place in history. Steadily, she makes her way towards it.

Harrenhal is a mighty fortress, once home to many great houses of Westeros, all in which were struck down by unforeseen tragedies. Whispers of its twisting halls being cursed, haunted by those that died within, scattered throughout the Riverlands, and all along Westeros, until the castle was abandoned. Now, it sits alone, stone burned dark from the days when dragons ruled the skies and their riders sat on the old Iron Throne.

Centuries have passed since then, yet Harrenhal remains the same, merely overgrown in its shrubbery and the vines that trail up its walls. The steady rhythm of her heart begins to speed up as she walks through the courtyard, eyes averting away from the blood stained ground, up towards a window at the very top of the castle, where a single light shines. Like a moth to a flame, she gravitates towards it.

Inside, it’s dark, and she finds herself walking through cobwebs, past open windows that let the cold air in, and up a large number of stairs, until finally, the lit room sits at the end of the hallway. Slowly, her footsteps creek along the floor, her spine tingling at the whisper that enters her ears and swells within her head; “Come to me.”

Her fingers reach out to touch the ancient wood of the door, which sits open just a crack, its hinges squeaking as it opens fully beneath her push. The room is lit by what seems to be a hundred candles, scattered around and perched on almost every surface, including the floor. A large window draws her attention, and standing in front of it, a tall figure, as still as a statue.

He towers over her, even from her spot by the door, lean and strong in his posture. A sheath of silver hair gleams down his back, so beautiful and shiny that it looks like silk, and her hands itch to reach out and run their fingers through the long strands. Slowly, he cocks his head to the side, and her breath hitches as his side profile comes into view among the shadows.

“You’ve finally made it,” he muses, all strong nose and smirking lips, stained the color of roses. Suddenly, he turns, facing her stunned figure. He hums, head tilted. “Come now, bride.”

She thinks he is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. Even with a scar that runs down the left side of his face, a glimmering sapphire within his missing eye’s socket. His other eye is an alluring shade of violet, though when he turns slightly, it looks almost red. He has a strong jaw and chin, skin porcelain and without color. He looks like a god.

He seems amused by her tied tongue, watching patiently as she tries to form a sentence. When she does, it comes out in a whisper. “Who are you?”

Quickly, so much so that her head spins and she stumbles back, he stands before her, close enough that she can touch him if she merely lifts her hand. He hums, his own hand coming up to run a finger down her cheek, the sharpened nail leaving a small streak of red on the flushed skin. His single eye studies her features, thumb resting under her chin as he tilts her head back, her lips agape. He smiles.

“My name…” he pauses, dipping his head lower, his cold breath fanning across her face, “is Aemond, and I have waited a millenia for you, ābrazȳrys.” (Wife).

The strange word echoed around in her head, and she knew it for High Valyrian, the old language of the dragonlords that once ruled over Westeros with fire and blood, hailed from the kingdom of Old Valyria. Her father is a scholar, one with an interest in history, and she had grown up learning about the years before, from before there were even the Seven Kingdoms. Tales of forest children and the First Men, of the Andals and the ice creatures, were all stories she was told at bedtime.

And then there is his name. Aemond. Another Valyrian name, one she had only heard once. Centuries ago, the ruling House Targaryen was torn to shreds when kin began to fight kin, and their dragons danced among a burning sky. There had been a particular prince that had caught her eye, a one-eyed kinslayer who rode the largest dragon in the world. When the war ended, the cruel Targaryen prince had vanished, and rumors swirled in his wake. Most believe he had succumbed to his uncle, a rogue prince who had a fiery vengeance. Some wonder about his paramour, a so-called witch that had lived in the same abandoned castle she was standing in now.

Her mind reeled over the possibilities. Could he be the long lost prince? After all this time? She knows it is not possible, for too much time has passed, yet he stands before her all the same. Cautiously, she reaches her hand out, resting it against his chest, breath catching within her throat at the stillness beneath his ribs.

He isn't breathing. His heart isn’t beating. It is as if he is a statue, carved from stone.

He gazes down at her, curious. Her voice comes out in a stutter. “H-how…? I don’t understand.”

His other hand encircles her own, pressing it tighter against him, eye fluttering closed as he begins to trace it up his chest, bringing it to his nose. He inhales, nose pressed to her wrist, pulse pounding under a web of blue veins. Her own eyes threaten to close, overwhelmed at the feeling of warmth that overcomes her, traveling from her head to the pit of her stomach, where it goes to rest between her quivering thighs.

He presses his lips to the same spot, opening his eye to peer up at her flushed expression. “You smell so sweet, my love.”

Her head spins, and she sucks in a sharp breath as he begins to kiss down the length of her arm, the silk sleeve of her robe lifting to rest in the crook of her elbow. When his lips reach the fabric, he moves to her shoulder, which the robe has fallen down from, leaving the bare skin exposed. At the nape of her neck, his tongue, surprisingly hot, darts out to lick at her pulse.

“Please,” she murmurs, head tilting to the side and her hands reaching out to grab at his tunic, pulling him closer.

“I am never letting you go, dōna riña,” Aemond muses, moving to press his lips against her jaw. “No, you were born to be my bride, and I shall take what belongs to me.” (Sweet girl).

Cold hands ruck up the skirt of her nightgown, caressing the soft skin of her thighs, which are covered in goosebumps as they shiver in desire. Some part of her is ringing an alarm bell, for she doesn’t yet know how she got here nor why she is here, or even how it is possible for this man… this being, to be before her. He has no beating heart, no working lungs, and though she knows it’s unfathomable, he is a Targaryen prince. With long silver hair and a single purple eye, she believes this in her heart.

Her thoughts come to a halt as long fingers curl under her soaked garment, touching her in a way no man has. A quiet gasp escapes from between her lips, mind at a stand still as his finger dips down to circle at her slick hole, pressing slightly but not yet entering. Instead, he moves to gather more of her arousal between his digits, thumb going to a spot that makes her jump, heart pounding against her heaving chest.

Aemond shushes her, a sweet coo leaving his smirking lips as he watches her with a hooded eye. His thumb rubs circles against that same spot, and a tight coil begins to turn within her stomach, nipples hardened to sharp peaks as she pants.

He brings his face down, forehead resting against her own. “Do you taste as sweet as you smell, ābrazȳrys?”

When she lets out a whimper, knees buckling from beneath her, he lets out a deep groan. Suddenly, with a force and speed that makes her dizzy, he is laying her down on the large bed that is against the wall, the velvet blankets smooth against her hot skin. Her nightgown is bunched up around her hips, robe long forgotten on the stone floor, along with her slippers. He kneels before her, fingers under the band of her undergarments, which he practically rips off her, tearing them down her legs.

“A-Aemond,” she whines, wanton as she writhes atop a sea of red velvet.

His nose nuzzles between her thatch of curls, tongue darting out to lick up her essence, which coats her entirely. Her back arches, hips wiggling away as a broken moan leaves her lips, but he merely throws an arm over her stomach, pressing down and locking her in place. Another moan is ripped from her throat, hands reaching down to nestle in his long strands, fingers curling around them and tugging. A deep rumble is heard within his chest, vibrating against her cunt, which pulses in return.

His tongue is ravenous as he laps up her arousal, swirling around that sensitive spot that makes her toes curl, before moving down to dip into her clenching hole. She leaks even more there, thighs shaking around his head as he pushes his tongue in deeper, until his face is pressed fully onto her weeping cunt. He groans, thrusting the muscle in and out, before retracting and bringing his fingers up to take its place. When his tongue lays flat against her and his finger eases its way through her tight entrance, she nearly screams as her head seems to explode, body vibrating in pleasure as the tightly wound coil in her stomach snaps.

Another finger joins the first, pumping into her steadily as she comes, feeling as if she is floating above her own body. Aemond starts to speak, but the words don’t process as her head buzzes, dazed in a pleasure she has never felt before. Whatever he says, her body clenches at, moving on its own accord with no way of her stopping it and regaining control. When she finally comes down, he doesn’t stop, continuing to lap at her quivering cunt, fingers beginning to curl upwards inside her, searching for a spot that they find almost immediately.

“My sweet, sweet bride,” he grins, resting his head against her thigh, mouth covered in her slick. “I want to lick this pretty cunt every day now. You’ll let me, won’t you?”

She whimpers and moans, tears prickling the corners of her eyes as another wave of pleasure begins to wash over her. He seems pleased by this, eye wide as it flickers between his fingers that are buried deep inside her and her flushed face. “Sȳz riña.” (Good girl).

He finally removes his fingers after her second peak, digits coated in her juices, which he brings up to her lips. Without a word, she opens her mouth, tongue swirling around them as she sucks, the taste of herself causing her blood to heat.

Aemond seems dazed as he stares down at her, member straining against his leathers. The sight both frightens and arouses her, her own mind still in the clouds and seemingly not coming down anytime soon. Slowly, cautiously, she reaches a hand out towards him. He grabs it, laying a kiss on her wrist once more, before moving to grab at her shift. She doesn’t stop him as he pulls it off her, leaving her naked under him. The drafty air of the old room brushes against her skin, and she shivers, nipples hardened and body covered in goosebumps.

His head bends and he wraps his lips around her right bud, hand grabbing at her left breast and squeezing. He’s heavy against her naked frame, the cold leather of his clothing feeling pleasant pressed along her flushed skin. She feels sticky all over, so unbearably hot that she presses herself closer to his odd coldness. He hushes her softly, lifting his head from her bosom and capturing her lips with his own. It’s messy, a clashing of tongues and teeth, and his rigid member feels like a hot iron against her thigh. Dazedly, she runs the tip of her tongue against his front teeth, gasping when a dull pain throbs throughout the wet muscle.

Aemond pulls back sharply, purple eye now a deep red, matching the crimson blood that stains his plush lips. Two sharp canines protrude from the top of his mouth, glimmering under the candlelight. His eye is focused on her lips, which hide her bleeding tongue from his view, and with a groan, he presses back against her, his own tongue forcing its way into her mouth. He caresses the small cut, licking up the blood that seeps from the wound, hands grabbing ahold of her tightly.

With a sigh that almost sounds like a growl, he pulls away so suddenly, and in a blink of an eye, he stands before her naked. Her eyes trail over his figure, porcelain in color and seemingly carved from stone. The light from the moon and the scattered candles create daunting shadows along his form, and through the fog of her mind, she realizes that she wants nothing more than to touch him. She sits up, reaching her hands out towards him, and he complies with her silent request, leaning down to allow her to explore. He watches with a curious eye, still red in color, as her fingers dance along his shoulders and down his chest, brushing over his pink nipples and his lean muscles.

“You’re beautiful,” she murmurs, bringing her lips to kiss the spot where his heart should rest, holding her breath when no heartbeat is felt.

As if reading her thoughts, he pushes her back down against the bed, and her eyes are immediately drawn to between his thighs. A twinge of fear rushes through her at the sight of his hardened cock, its head flushed pink with thick veins that curl up its side. She has never seen one before, still a maiden, waiting for her father to betroth her to whichever man he deems worthy. But she feels as if Aemond’s is too large.

His lips curl into a smirk at her wide eyed gaze, bringing himself forward to lean over her, his silver hair falling around them like a curtain. His body, still cold and heavy against her, like a stone wall. She tenses as his hand goes between them, grasping his member in his palm and lining himself up against her entrance. Once again, his gaze is dark, brows furrowed and jaw tense as he runs the tip up and down her leaking seam, nudging that special spot that makes her spine jolt.

“You are mine, riñītsos. Mine to claim, mine to fuck,” he hisses as his tip begins to press into her tight hole, arms straining to hold himself above her shaking frame. “Mine to breed. Kesan dōrī ivestragī jā.” (Little one), (I will never let you go).

A broken sob leaves her lips as he pushes forward, a sharp pain settling deep between her legs, which only grows the farther he goes inside her. She begins to shake her head, pushing her palms against his shoulders with a moan. “It’s too big… it won’t fit!”

“Shhh,” he hushes her sweetly, lips coming to kiss along her ruddy cheeks. “Don’t worry, dōna riña. I’ll make it fit. You were made for this… for me.”

Her vision is clouded as she nuzzles her face in the crook of his neck, wrapping herself around him and clinging onto him as the pain slowly ebbs away, turning into something entirely different. When he’s sat completely inside her, a wanton moan leaves her lips at the fullness, her head vibrating as she gasps up at the ceiling, trying to catch her breath among the surging pleasure that begins to make its way through every nerve. Her hips begin to cant upwards, the slickness of her arousal helping her to slide against his cock, her fingers gripping tightly to strands of his hair.

“Please…” she whines, nearly sobbing.

He hums, lifting himself up as he begins to move his hips, creating a steady rhythm as his hands grab ahold of her waist. She is tiny below him, so much so that he can see the outline of his cock in her stomach, a sight that makes him groan and speed up, balls tightening in pleasure as her wet heat squeezes him. He eyes her thundering pulse at the base of her neck, his fangs beginning to ache and his throat going dry. His thrusts grow harsher, fingers digging into her flesh as she cries out beneath him.

“Kostagon nyke angogon ao, ābrazȳrys? Kessa ao ivestragī aōha valzȳrys mōzugon hen ao?” (Can I bite you, wife? Will you let your husband drink from you?)

His words come out in a mix between whiny and growling, teeth gritting as he leans down towards her open neck. Though she doesn’t quite understand what he said, only knowing a few words in Valyrian, the neediness in his tone has her back arching, and she greedily pulls him closer. Some submissive part of her wants nothing more than to please him, to give him all he desires and more. She gasps out a small “please.”

He nuzzles his nose under her jaw, rubbing against her pulse as his hips slow down, his thirst growing immensely. He brushes the tips of his fangs against her vein, thrusting his cock deep inside her, before biting down, eye rolling to the back of his head as warm blood spills down into his mouth. He moans, hips stuttering, pulling her as close as he can until they are flushed against each other, listening to her whimpers. She scratches her nails down his back, her cunt pulsing around his heavy cock as her blood flows from her vein, dizzy in her pleasure and loss of blood.

She tastes of the finest ambrosia, rich against his tongue and tingling his tastebuds, and his cock seems to swell in size as he cradles her in his arms, fangs imbedded into her neck. Her vision blurs, the rising wave of her arousal coming to a peak, and she nearly screams out as his hand slides between their stuck bodies, fingers circling at the throbbing bud at the apex of her cunt. His cockhead pounds steadily against a rough patch within in, and he doesn’t let up on his assault as the wave crashes over her, drowning her. She gasps for air, everything silent except for the beating of her heart and the slurping of Aemond’s tongue lapping at her lifesource.

“Sȳz riña,” his own peak begins to wash over him, lips murmuring against her neck and between sips of blood. “Iksā vok. Ñuha vok ābrazȳrys.” (You are perfect. My perfect wife).

With one last groan, he fills her with his seed, taking one last gulp of her before ripping himself away, mouth open against her wound as he pants. His tongue begins to lick at the two points, saliva coating them and slowly healing the marred skin. She is barely awake beneath him, exhausted from her pleasure, yet the sound of his voice and the feeling of his seed hot against her womb makes her throb all over again. She leaves wet kisses along his shoulders and chest, relishing in the feeling of him pressed against her, sweaty in the aftermath of their love making.

Slowly, he pulls out of her, cock only slightly soft, ready for another round. He feels as if he could spend an eternity between her legs, pounding into her tight, wet cunt and breeding her over and over again. For a moment, he has a thought to chain her to this very bed, his obedient little bride. He wants to lap at her sweet blood and lick up the essence of her, until every part of her is claimed. When his seed begins to seep out of her used hole, he brings two fingers to plug into her, refusing to let any of himself leave her. He smiles at her adoring expression.

“Will you marry me now, my lord?”

Aemond brings his coated fingers to her lips for the second time that night, humming in delight when she sucks on them, tongue swirling around and licking up every last drop of their combined arousal.

“Yes, my love. And when the time is right, I will turn you into my eternal bride.”

[ladythornofrivia]

Lady with Teal Eyes || Aemond x Aunt!Hightower Reader (Part One)

word count: 2,733

author’s note: i’m sorry that i didn’t post much stories, as I’ve been reblogging and changing themes in my profile. i’m trying my best, but I’ll make up for it.

warnings: incest, cockwarming, teasing, sucking, p in v, rough play, flirting, wholesome moment, jealous aemond, possessive, roughness, mild manhandling, mild degradation, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex, second hand embarrassment, dark content, mentions of su*cide, Aemond being too touchy with his aunt, degradation, humiliation.

summary: Aemond meets his aunt for the first time, and there’s more than meets the eye. (there will be three parts).

There hasn’t been a day that you never left your homeland. All in prosperity. All in solitude, all in mindful thoughts that even the castle walls were unable to perceive. Oldtown is known for the oldest kingdom within Westeros.

We light the way, those are the words from House Hightower, a tall, silver tower with a green light of flames atop. Members of the Hightower court are known to be proud and resilience. Perhaps too greedy to your taste. Less fickle to their needs, their desires, their secrets, their ambition.

All minds think alike, as they said. But your mind is unalike from theirs.

There hasn’t been a single day where your life change—steady as it goes. But when your older sister, Alicent, sent a letter to you from a raven fled from miles, you instantly ripped the seal and unveiled her letters, written in neat cursive. In the days where you can recall that Alicent taught you to read and write, before accompanying your father, Otto Hightower, to aid the ailing king and his throne.

In King’s Landing, where Aegon has set and had trees felled after his conquest in Westeros. The stories of dragonlords and ladies has caught you into a slighted dot of peculiarity. But with your father, you knew that your father wanted more than being as the Hand of the King. Like any folk in Oldtown, he’s all in the same cloak of mind and heart as the rest. The only difference is he has resided in King’s Landing with the Targaryens, warming the throne with Alicent’s political stead.

With you, as Alicent’s half-sister, one thing you adored about her is her resilience, no matter how the power struggle may have been, Alicent held her head high, it inspired you to do the same cause, not for the greater good, but for you to steady your heart. With Alicent’s brown eyes, anyone would be easily swayed at her beauty. With your eyes like glowing water, the subjects were to assume that you’re either a sea creature in the ocean, or have been reincarnated as a woman. Common folks assumed that you’re a goddess sent by Maiden herself. But others theorized you’re born in the sacred pond within the forest.

Despite the nonsensical rumors, you carried out your duties dulled within life, but with your brother, Gwayne Hightower, entered in your chambers without a warning.

“Sister!”

“Good heavens, you gave me a fright,” you screeched, hand clutching over your chest.

“A word from the raven,” he resumed, pulling out the letter. “It’s from our dear sister.”

She hasn’t written you a letter for months. Understanding of her high authoritative position, thankfully enough you aren’t the queen. You couldn’t bear to think about gifting children into the world from your maidenhood.

“Alicent!” Departing from the chair, you snatched the letter from Gwayne’s hand and ripped the letter open, straightening the scrolled paper.

My dearest sister,

I regret to inform you that I cannot visit in the Oldtown due to personal circumstances that our father has been trifled with the matters in King’s Landing. As queen, I must fully prioritize my duties and smite the inconsiderate undutiful thought of others. My dear husband, King Viserys, has been unwell as of late, growing slower day by day, but still the same man who loves his histories and shed upon endless favoritism on his daughter and her plain-featured sons, as well his miniatures he rarely finished. As of this moment, we are preparing the feast for the upcoming celebration. Misery and dread and politics has been my company, and I’d be happy if you come to King’s Landing and stay here for more than a month. I also send Gwayne and his men to escort you back. I hope you still have the new dresses and jewels the seamstress sorted to your taste; I always know that you hated attire that itched your flesh or suffocating. Words cannot expressed about how I miss the sweetness of your smile and laughter. We shall meet soon.

Signed,

Alicent Hightower

Jumping with joy, your body lunged at Gwayne, locking him into a tight hug, slightly hopping in place with a big grin stretched onto your lips.

“Have my things ready, brother,” you said, hasting, forgetting about the silks and fabrics in your hands.

“But you need more time. You’ll stay in King’s Landing as our queenly sister instructed.”

“Send the maids, then. I can’t do this alone.”

“You mustn’t make haste!” Gwayne shouted as you ran off, never minding the silks on the ground only for him to pick up.

“The sooner the better,” you shouted back.

~~~

The trailed ship took no more than three days to reach King’s Landing. Alicent hasn’t mentioned anything particular to the celebration. But you have come to acknowledge that Alicent lessened the details.

By the time the ships rested at the shore, you rushed down to the clear path and greeted your father, who was rather cold and emotionless. Nevertheless, you gave the courtesy of shallow inclination of your neck bent down. Though your heart shattered at the motionless greeting; a chilled wind spiraled on your thickened sleeves.

“Father,” you said, grinning ear to ear.

“Queen Alicent awaits,” is all he said, then left without abiding on you.

“But—”

“Ser Gwayne, escort this lady in the Red Keep,” he wasn’t saying it with care.

This lady.

Months without communication and souvenirs, you’d ought it’ll soften your father’s resolve regarding onto the estrangement.

Another clash of heartbreak has struck again. But it comes as no surprise.

Both of you hadn’t spoke since of his second wife—your mother’s—passing.

As numb as it may be, the small pang in your heart resolved again as Gwayne Hightower escorted you to the high steeps close, reaching the royal grounds of Red Keep.

~~~

Infiltrating from climbing the steps until reaching the indoors, the green queen appeared.

Your sister.

“Alicent,” you rushed and clung her to embrace.

“Sister, how good of you to come,” Alicent replied.

The halls greeted you in cold and dreaded air clinging onto your sleeves, goosebumps flooded over your skin, the thick air of candles and torches has impaled your stomach. You didn’t like this feeling. These halls, darkened in heralds of statues and stars that your pupils recognizant.

Faith of the Seven.

Hightowers held their religion in the highest regard, while you, don’t cherish the ideologies of the religion, filled with fanaticism and hypocrisy. Even Targaryens have the queerest customs, of marrying brother to sister, relative to relative since Aegon I. It dire consequences of genetics and birth, and the fruition of a child birth into an unshakable world of politics and desires. According to the Citadel, in secret debate, those who are born of incest are nothing but sort of monsters lurking, a defect to a bloodline.

The Targaryens disagree—couldn’t care less, of course. As you often heard of keeping the bloodline pure.

Bloodline pure. People speculated that the Targaryens are closer to gods than men. Thus their words ‘Fire and Blood’ is in order. In Valyria, their source is magic and dragons, long before volcanic eruptions swept the lands and dragons into ashes. The last Targaryens resided in Westeros, and thus, their last kind is dwindling, hence creating pure bloodline. As theatrically hysterical as it is, you trudged along the halls.

“It has been so long since I saw you last,” Alicent began.

“It has, but we rarely sent letters as of late.”

“Being a queen is no simple task. Our father’s ambition has gotten stronger.”

“Your father,” you said bitterly.

“My dear sister,” Alicent resumed, her voice soothed. “Father is doing his best to stabilize the realm.”

“Cold, cruel and calculated,” you answered. “Your strength and dutiful as queen is one of the things I admire about you. But, sister, it feels as if my existence is no longer needed. I feel as if I’m useless. My mother received no love from your father.”

The doe-eyed look in Alicent’s eyes protruding. “Sister, I—“”

“Half-sisters,” you reminded. “Everyone thought I was some sort of creature that shouldn’t belong in the realm. I’m no fool; I could hear everyone whisper, even closed doors.”

“Creature or not, you’re still a Hightower. We share the same blood. Nothing will ever change between you and I.”

“But your father will never accept me,” you replied.

Alicent clasped her hands onto yours. “The next time we see each other, I’ll be visiting the Oldtown.”

“You said that the last time on our previous letters,” you chimed. “Let him stabilize the realm alone.”

“That is why you’re here. I needed time apart from the council and subjects,” Alicent reasoned. “Men are often ambitious with their politics and trifling over gold than their wives.”

“It appears so,” you agreed, huffing.

Ironically, Alicent served men, and still is. First Jahaerys, then Otto, then Viserys. Though you wouldn’t so recklessly give your personal opinion away to Alicent.

“We have yet to explore the grounds. We must rest at the gardens. I know how much you love staying in the gardens.”

Your cheeky smile was showing. “I do.”

Alicent squeezed your hand. “Let us be off. It’s considered bad luck if we let our food grow cold.”

“Never knew that it involves bad luck.”

“I’ve been told.”

“By who?”

Not once, Alicent answered.

~~~

“Make yourself comfortable,” Alicent said, indicating the spare chair, and watched you sat with ease, eyeing the lavish outdoors where the Weirwood stood as main view.

“Quite nice out,” you complimented.

This was Alicent meant when she said gardens.

“I chose this spot for a reason,” Alicent said as the servants settled the meal over the table—bowed and left. And the last servant entered, placing a stacked candied almonds and candied plums on a gold platter, alongside of Dornish wine.

Alicent watched your eyes lit up.

“I took the liberty of having the kitchen staff ready for your sweet-tooth,” she clarified.

“You know me well, sister.” You grinned.

“My lady,” a soothing masculine voice said behind you.

“Ser Criston,” Alicent addressed, glancing. “I’m occupied as of this moment.”

“There has been urgent matters regarding to your son.”

Puzzled, Alicent spoke with, “Which son?”

Appalled, your eyes darted at her. On the other hand, you never retain information from Alicent.

“Aegon,” Criston answered, eyes turning away. “I’m afraid his excursions have rather been…” Then his dark brown eyes flicked to yours, his mouth opened, choosing his words carefully.

“We’ll speak no more of it,” Alicent pleaded. “I’m under the liberty of entertaining my sister at the moment. Do ignore Aegon’s excursions for now.”

Somewhere in between the lines, you knew Alicent’s calm demeanor struck hard when the excursions take place, wrath kept within, as you read between Alicent’s lines furrowed on her forehead. Ser Criston glimpsed at you and bowed before withdrawing from the outdoors.

“My apologies,” Alicent said to you in a dreaded voice. “The excursions in the daylight hour upon King’s Landing hasn’t ended.”

“I never knew you had a son,” you said, munching on the candied almonds.

Alicent swallowed the contents of the food. “I mentioned it once before in the letter. That I was having a babe in my belly.”

You pondered for a moment. It was back when Alicent married Viserys and carried a child in her.

“But you never mentioned that it’s a son,” you commented.

“But I’m sure you heard Aegon’s name the moment he arrived into the world.”

Your teeth clenched. “I can assure you I did.” The Oldtown spoke of Aegon in high regards, but as you grew older, you never hear much of Aegon’s doings, hoping to meet your nephew, you waited, but as usual, you sister never once sent letters to offer you an invite.

“Things have been hectic for the past years, and I doubt that’ll cease. With the Iron Throne empty and with all that it stands, we’re keeping the place intact with politics and debate,” Alicent reasoned.

You stayed in silence.

“If you would like,” Alicent continued, “I would be happy to take you to the gallery. The Red Keep has been nothing but a dread. I shall escort you and give you a tour to the Red Keep unless you want someone else to—”

“No, I’d be thrilled if you were to accompany me,” you paused, then said, “sister.”

Alicent gently beamed at that.

~~~

When you and Alicent both went inside the Red Keep, the royal subjects and guards bowed before the green queen as their eyes lingered onto yours, and an incoherent of whispers were passed to your ears.

The sister of the green queen.

And as you ascended the staircases, from there, you saw the shaded eyes of violet and curled hair—a young girl, a few years younger than you.

“Mother, have you seen my—” The girl’s youthful stare darted to yours, backing away gradually.

“This is my sister, (y/n), your aunt,” Alicent introduced. “This is Princess Helaena, my daughter,” Alicent said to you.

“A pleasure.” As you made an inclination to your neck, smiling to the princess as you hadn’t realized that the others accompanied none other by two young men behind Helaena, both with Targaryen features.

Your heart stopped—leapt with warmth—when you first glanced at the tall prince with gold, lithe hair as his other eye covered with eyepatch.

“These are my other sons…” Alicent said, searching for the third son with a slight frown on her features. “Where is Aegon?”

“Drunk as usual,” Daeron rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

“That blasted fool…” Alicent hissed, then smiled merrily in a way to appease herself. “I hope you and Lady (y/n) would get along.”

“Yes, I remember now! You’re that boy—that cupbearer in the council!” you said to Daeron.

Daeron beamed. “I am proud to serve my mother’s family in Oldtown. Ashamed we never met circumstances in the Reach, yet here we are!” he chuckled. “For my dear father’s name day contained in private ceremony, I’m glad you came.”

You sensed the sarcasm in the word “father”, but shrugged it off.

The dread of unwanted unwelcome washed away with glee. “Indeed. I shall look forward to the festivities.”

Aemond lifted and placed his kiss upon the back of your hand. A kiss placed with gentle fire ignited your dulled soul, envision with flames of blush blaring your dewy cheeks. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

Breath caught in your throat, eyeing on his hand still lingering his intertwine fingers to your skin. “Likewise, my prince…”

For the first time in your life, the gentleness of a dragon has captured your heart and soul.

As for Aemond, with the slighted news of your presence, there’s nothing more than mere maiden who needs to be soiled with his perversions trapped and coiled and enflamed in between his legs. When he first laid his gaze on you, he pictured your flushed skin wrapped with his own, his lips captured yours as his presence trapped into your mind for eternity. But alas, with a wandering thought just now, it wasn’t like him. He mustn’t be capricious and avarice on the spot.

With your grand arrival, Aemond had already decided you’ll become his.

One day at the time, he reminded himself.

“It’s unusual for you to be courteous to someone,” Alicent commented.

“I never wish to scare anyone with my presence, mother,” Aemond said. “It is my duty as a prince to make our special guest comfortable.”

A hot tingle between your legs stirred as you eyed on him—on his lips—how rolled off words with his tongue, finding yourself imagining at the thought of your nephew tasting your folds as you ride him, warming the bed—riding him whilst lace and corset of your precious dress torn apart by his own rugged and young hands.

“He’s only being courteous like Prince Daeron,” you noted, clearing your throat. “Everyone must fulfill their role to the realm. We mustn’t decay our customs to rudeness.”

Aemond’s eye gleamed at your flushing features whilst you looked at Alicent in the eye, you speak with assurance yet your body wavered, dying for your hungered coil in you—the scorch caged within your dress to be set free.

You cannot fool me, my princess, he thought.

In the end, nobody can fool a dragon like him.

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[vanessamooney]

Heaven Above - Draco x Reader

Prompt: Draco finds you late at night in the astronomy tower, set during 5-6th year.

Pairing: Draco x Slytherin!Reader

On black nights where the air stood still and the sky was littered with flashing bulbs of hope she came and sat on the highest peak of the astronomy tower. Her legs were curled against her chest, squeezed uncomfortably tight by her frail arms. It was cold; not cold enough to shiver but cold enough to sit and ponder in thoughts that swirled within them the very galaxy.

Of course, she wasn’t allowed up here so late - no one was. It was so much like a game, one of the only thrills she partook in. It was worth it for her, even if she were to get caught; but she never did, not by wandering prefects, not by professors or other misbehaving students. Never by them. 

She was caught by the moon, and the stars, and creatures watching from the forest she wasn’t aware of. But she was aware of the moon, aware of the planets and the yearning which pulled her closer, which made her twinkling eyes widen just that little bit more, made her inhale just that little bit deeper and made her nostalgic for lifetimes ago that she never really experienced. 

It was the sort of magic the professors never taught, the sort of magic which had no history books or lessons to attend or true believers. Magic from another world, so much more fragile and fussy than the magic which spouted from her wand. It took tender love and peculiar attention for this magic to blossom; the kind which granted wishes made on stars and pleas blown on dandelions. 

Y/N let her legs dangle along the edge, fighting the cold stone against her skin. She planted her palms firmly next to her hips and she pondered on her own self and the foreboding which wrapped her in chills. She imagined she was the dandelion, and her petals were blown to be forever spread across the cosmos, never to be seen again.

'Don't get too close to the edge lest you fall,' 

She heard the familiar voice of Draco echo around the tower and into the distantness of the night. She pressed her lips into a thin line, and slowly turned to see the blonde boy standing with posture so rigid and his blue gaze piercing through the darkness. 

She met his gaze, her own expression unreadable. 'Malfoy,' she acknowledged, taken aback from the unexpected company. 

Y/N and Draco had spent the entirety of their schooling at Hogwarts in the same house, exchanging glances and polite nothings. 

In second year, the glances became longing and stares became more noticeable. Polite exchanges became longer and their seats in the great hall grew closer. Their friends became mutual and late night study in the library turned into giggles.

In third year their hands brushed each others during potions class, receiving unapproving looks from Snape. Weekends were spent with butter beer moustaches and unexpected flowers plucked from gardens.

In fourth year Draco asked Y/N to the Yule Ball and she was sorry to tell him that a Durmstrang boy had already asked her and she had said yes. Draco watched that year as she danced the night away with another boy, his heart heavy with unspoken emotions.

His eyes held the same look now as they did that night and she saw his face heavy with grief as the moonlight illuminated his features, 'Y/L/N,'

She motioned for him to join her, a flicker of sympathy softening her features even more - as if he didn't melt her just by being a flame. 

Draco joined her on the cold floor of the astronomy tower, the moon bathing them in her light. For a moment, they simply sat in silence, legs swinging in the tension, taking in the breathtaking view of the night sky stretched out before them. 

'It's beautiful, isn't it?' Y/N murmured, her voice barely above a breathy whisper as she gazed to the stars. 

Draco nodded in agreement, sneaking a glance of Y/N's side profile. He noted how flushed her lips were from the cold, how rosy she was and how the scent in her long hair enveloped them in peonies and myrtle with the gentle blows of the wind.

'Why are you out here?' 

'I could ask you the same thing,' 

'That’s true,' she smiled, 'But I asked you first,' 

Draco couldn't help but return her smile, he always had a soft spot for her. 'I just needed some air,' he admitted, his tone laced with a reserve that hinted against his own words. 'Now you,' 

'I just needed some air,' Y/N parroted, a glint of mischief lighting her up momentarily as they both let out a slight chuckle. She laid her heavy head on the willing shoulder next to her and he relished in her touch.

Draco felt a rush of warmth flood through him as Y/N mirrored his words, her playfulness always brought a sense of lightness to the atmosphere and he wishes he could selfishly lock her into a box, all for himself.

'Do you remember the first time we snuck out of the castle together?' he asked suddenly, breaking the tranquil silence that had settled between them. It was a moment he had buried deep within himself, yet it resurfaced now in the stillness.

Y/N lifted her head from his shoulder, looking at him inquisitively. 'How could I forget?' she replied, her voice filled with amusement. 'It seems like life times ago now,' she remembered, of course she remembered. 

She let out a heavy sigh upon the resurgence of buried memories, her gaze faltering to the twiddling thumbs in her lap. Her watering eyes met his and she couldn’t help but let out a sob, her eyes fluttering with embarrassment.

'What happened to us?' She breathed out shakily.

Draco reached out instinctively, his thumb brushing away her tears as he met her gaze with an unwavering intensity. 'I wish I knew,' he admitted softly, his voice tinged with regret. 

With a lingering kiss on her forehead. Y/N leaned into his touch, seeking comfort in his warmth as she struggled to compose herself. She reached out to rub his forearm to comfort him too but Draco had flinched, frantically pulling the white sleeves of his shirt down. And with a silent knowing glance, she knew exactly what happened to them.