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elizaleclerc · 2 months ago

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it was all by design 🌟

"what if i told you none of it was accidental?"

summary: hunter!reader starts to realize their feelings for xavier, but he's felt this way the whole time...

song: mastermind by taylor swift

word count: 2.1k

author's note: my first l&ds fic everyone cheer! / mostly fluff / workplace romance (i mean this is canon) / im new to this game don't judge / cheeky makeout sesh / he falls first and hard / sarcastic smug xavier (he's a freak) / sweet talk - nothing too spicy / barely proof read oops

It was simple day at the arcade. You and Xavier decided to take the day off from missions and relax with some fun at the colorful arcade machines. You had won more stuffed plushies than you could feasibly carry in your arms, so Xavier held one in his hand delicately, as if he knew how much those little stuffed creatures meant to you.

“Well I better call it a day, I don’t think I can carry any more of these little guys.” You chuckled as your arms began to grow sore, even with the stuffed creatures’ light weight.

“Yeah, you’re supposed to be resting your muscles and instead here you are.” He gestured towards your arms filled with plushes. You laughed to yourself, refusing to admit he was right.

The two of you walked back to your car and you dumped all of the plushes in the backseat. As you looked at all of the adorable creatures, a realization hit you. You had no more room at your desk in the office for all of these plushes to fit.

“What are you thinking about? Or are you just admiring your growing collection?” Xavier spoke from beside me. I turned to look at him for a few moments. The Xavier during missions was so different yet the same as the Xavier outside of work. You had come to know him as a close friend, and even shared some flirtatious moments. Most of the time, you pushed those moments aside and decided to see him only as a coworker. But flirtatious fantasies sometimes danced through your mind.

You envisioned his desk at the office. Completely barren; no pictures, no decorations. A piece of furniture completely devoid of any color or personality. You grabbed one of your plushes. This one was a particularly round tomato plush. “Here,” you started, “this won’t fit on my desk, so you can have it.”

Xavier took the plush in his hand and examined it for a moment, “What am I supposed to do with it?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I dunno, it’s up to you.”

For some unknown reason, after the day at the arcade you spent the entire next day thinking about Xavier. During random moments of the day, memories between the two of you kept flashing back into your mind. You would be folding laundry and suddenly think back to his arms brushing against yours like they did during a mission in the forest. You both had heard and felt fluctuations and were on guard. He held your wrist in a swift movement to keep you close. You snapped out of it and finished folding your clothes.

Another memory flashed while you were cleaning dishes. It was a particularly risky mission, and Xavier’s Evol was dwindling. His life was at risk, but he was still willing to put himself in the face of danger in order to keep you safe. When you tried to resonate with him, at first he hesitated. He wouldn’t dare you spend any of your energy or power on him. But in the end, your decision to resonate saved his life. You both thought you’d end up losing the other that day, and the silent air of the aftermath sat heavy. You held each other close, your heavy breathing mixing together.

After your days off were over, and you thought you had finally gotten over yourself, you walked into the office prepared for whatever mission Jenna was going to send you on. But then, you saw Xavier across the room. He was standing talking to another hunter, and you just about lost your mind. He was standing with his arms crossed, clad in his hunter uniform, his head cocked slightly as he listened to whatever his coworker was jabbering about. God, he looked amazing, you thought. Why were you thinking of him in this way all of the sudden?

You had gone over every small interaction, every side conversation, every slight touch that the two of you had ever shared. Was there really something between the two of you, or had you actually gone mad this time. You walked over to your desk, placing one of your newest plushes on the shelf to complete your set.

Your eyes glanced over at Xavier’s desk, not expecting anything to have changed. You did a double take when you noticed something new. A small tomato plush sat next to his computer. That wasn’t the only thing either. A square photo was stuck to the hang wall that every worker had.

Trying to be inconspicuous, you squinted at the photo. It was one the two of you had taken before one of your most recent missions. You were both dressed in your uniforms, and he had his arm around your shoulder as you held bunny ears behind his head. He was smiling, and you were sticking your tongue out. It was the only photo the two of you had ever taken together.

Your head was reeling. This couldn’t be real. You were convinced you were trapped in some Protocore induced dream. “Do you like the new decorations?” Your body jolted as Xavier spoke next to you. You turned to see a smug smile on his face, his arms still crossed.

You were too shocked to speak, but finally decided to say something as Xavier waited for an answer. “Yeah, yeah…it’s nice.” Your voice sounded more exasperated than you’d like. Xavier seemed to read you like a book. Did he know the realizations that you were having?

“Are you alright?” He asked with a slight smile. He didn’t actually seem too concerned.

“Yeah- no, yeah, I’m fine.” You stumbled over your words, refusing to make eye contact with him. You saw a slight twitch in his bicep as he adjusted his stance by his desk. Your entire face went hot. “I think Jenna wanted me to look at something in the Archive room, I’ll um…be right back.” You hurried through your excuse to leave the main office.

Your breath had quickened, but you found solace in the empty archive room. Only tech workers were really needed back here to retrieve old files on specific Protocores or important history of Linkon. Thankfully the room was empty, the only sound being your heavy breathing. You sat yourself on one of the empty counters, the space usually used for examining documents. You put your head in your hands, get it together.

You heard the handle of the door slide open, and your heart sank. In walked Xavier, still appearing smug and moving like he rehearsed all of this. “Are you following me now?” You huffed, just needing some time alone to sort through your thoughts.

“Are you done lying to me?” He retorted, moving closer to you, now standing only a few feet away.

“What are you talking about?” You scoffed in a hushed laugh.

“You’re clearly not fine. What’s going on?” He still held that dumb smile on his face, and your brows furrowed.

“Are you actually concerned for me? Because you’re smiling. Do you know you’re smiling right now?” You asked in a rushed tone; you’ve never seen him behave this way.

He let out a deep sigh, his eyes rolling in exasperation. "Do I have to explain everything to you?" He took a step closer, his body now towering over you as you sat perched on the counter. He leaned down, his hands planted firmly on either side of your legs. Your faces were mere inches apart, and the intensity of his gaze sent shivers down your spine. “Do I have to explain why your face flushes when I get close like this?”

Gently, he reaches out and places his warm hand on your knee, caressing it with gentle strokes. With a slow and deliberate movement, he begins to trace a path up your thigh, his fingertips leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. Gradually, his touch becomes more confident and sure, sending waves of desire rippling through your body. “Do I have to explain how your breath quickens when I do this?”

He leans in, his breath warm on your neck as he speaks in a soft whisper only meant for you. You can feel the heat radiating from his lips, and the gentle brush of his words sends shivers down your spine. His breath carries the scent of mint and musk, enveloping you in a cloud of desire. The closeness between you is palpable, and every nerve in your body is electrified by his presence. “Or can you put the pieces together yourself?”

“Xavier…” Is all you can think to say. Your breathing was quickening, and your face was flushed.

He sighed, his lips just barely grazing the start of your jaw, “I’ve waited and waited for you to finally feel what I’ve felt for so long.” You take your hands and slightly push his chest away.

You analyze his face and his brows furrow ever so slightly. “You mean- you’ve felt this way about me all this time and never told me?” You brought one of your hands up to the side of his face, your thumb lightly tracing around his cheek.

“Of course, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I knew you didn’t feel the same way- if you would never feel this way…” He starts, and before he can continue, you speak up.

“But now you know…”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, “Exactly.” He brings a hand up to your jaw and slowly moves it to the back of your neck. “Can I kiss you now?” Your eyes felt dazed as you gazed down at his lips. He brushed a thumb over the bottom of your lip, waiting. “Please, your eyes are saying yes but I need to hear it from your mouth.”

You nodded, snapping out of the haze you were in. “Yes, yes, please.” As soon as the last word was uttered Xavier brought his lips onto yours. He started slow, his soft lips moving in rhythm with yours. He was still leaning on his hands, but he moved them to wrap around your lower back. You never thought he would feel this good on your lips. You let out a slight whimper, and that sent Xavier spiraling. Like a man starved, he quickened his pace and kissed you as if he’d never get the chance again.

“Wait- we can’t do this here.” You took a moment in between kisses to center yourself and remember you were at work.

“Ugh, I don’t care,” Xavier breathed out and went back to kissing you again. Once his lips found yours for the second time you didn’t care anymore either. You wanted this feeling, this burning desire for him to last forever.

You smiled into the next kiss, “Okay,” You moved your hands into his hair, your fingers tugging on the strands slightly. He moaned lightly into your kiss, causing your back to arch.

You almost missed the door handle opening again, and you immediately pushed Xavier off of you. He stumbled back, partially in shock until he realized why. Andrew walked in, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment from walking in on the two of you. “Um- Jenna is looking for you. The mission assignments are about to be handed out.” He cleared his throat and walked out of the room.

Your own face was flush pink, and once Andrew left the room you put your head in your hands. “Oh my god.”

“Okay, you were right. Maybe we shouldn’t have done that here.” Xavier laughed to himself. You had no choice but to laugh, really.

You hopped off of the counter, your legs feeling weak. You couldn’t even think about going on a mission right now, nonetheless with Xavier. “Well,” You straightened out your uniform, “I guess we should head back.”

“Yeah,” Xavier chuckled to himself, “until next time.”

Your face flushed at his words, because you knew there would be a next time.

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jezebelblues · 5 months ago

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Hi can you do another dad!Harry x reader where Niall meets atlas and he and Harry teach him how to play football and Harry Niall playfully argue about what team atlas will root for. And Niall also wants to teach him how to play the guitar.

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄 ࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔

⋆˚✿˖° 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛

summary: check the request u silly goose ^

also hello anon, thank u for the request <3 sorry it took so long! hopefully it’s smthn u liked :)

cw: dadrry 🤨, unedited

word count: approx 2.3k

| i’m trying to go in order with the requests ive gotten. a lot have been dadrry which i LOVVE however im gonna take the smallest breather from it because i’ve been wanting to get a few other things out that isn’t dadrry/kid related which i hope yall will still like :^)

masterlist

harry bent over and plucked a dandelion from the ground, its yellow petals nearly glowing in the gentle light. “here,” he murmured, tucking it behind atlas’s ear, nestled into dark curls that mirrored his own.

his boy squinted up at him, dimple deepening as he tilted his head, casting that same unguarded, easy smile. harry’s own grin met it, his eyes crinkling, his nose scrunching up just so. “sunny flower for my sunshine,” he said, voice a low, soft thing.

the world outside was painted in a wash of soft honeyed glow, every blade of grass dipped in a warm, dewy shimmer. somewhere overhead, the clouds stretched in lazy tufts, the kind that would drift by in no hurry, letting the sky peek through in swathes of baby blue.

they were tucked beneath the willow tree at the back of the yard, both of them shirtless, shoeless, and dusted with dirt. atlas sat cross-legged, his chubby fingers digging into the cool soil with the focus only a four-year-old could muster. he was on a mission, hunting for the little grey bugs he loved, the ones that rolled into perfect balls with the gentlest nudge.

“look, bub,” harry whispered, flipping over his hand to reveal one of the bugs crawling along his dirt-streaked palm. atlas’s face lit up, eyes wide and delighted. he gently took the bug, murmuring, “hello, potato,” as if the creature was an old friend. carefully, he coaxed it onto his own hand, watching it sprawl out its tiny legs, finally uncurling. “there y’are,” he said with a satisfied little sigh, his finger brushing gently over its shell before he let it crawl back into the soil.

harry watched him, struck by the quiet tenderness in his son’s movements, his heart swelling with a mixture of pride and awe. atlas’s world was so simple, and yet somehow so vast, filled with magic in places adults so often overlooked.

his son’s head whipped around suddenly, catching sight of a patch of tiny purple flowers hiding near his dad’s knee. he scrambled over, tugging a few loose with careful fingers, his face lighting up like he’d found treasure. harry chuckled, watching his son’s single-minded determination as he came closer, leaning down to face his dad.

“shh,” he whispered, pressing a finger to his lips with the gravest expression he could muster. then, with a careful hand, he began tucking the little flowers into harry’s curls, his small brows furrowed in focus. one by one, purple petals nestled into the messy locks until he was satisfied. “now we match, daddy,” he said, the faintest look of triumph on his face.

harry couldn’t help the way his heart tugged, warmth spreading in his chest. “mama needs one, too,” atlas murmured, glancing around with a serious look.

“does she now?” he stood, brushing dirt from his knees, lifting atlas onto his hip with a grunt. his feet made soft imprints in the grass as they moved toward his wife, who lay stretched out on a towel near the front yard, soaking up the late afternoon sun. her eyes opened as they approached, a gentle smile tugging at her lips.

“what kind of flower, do y’think?” harry mumbled, nudging atlas’s cheek with his nose.

atlas thought for a long moment, glancing between his parents. “m’the prettiest one.”

“now that’s a hard call, mate,” he chuckled. “your mum’s too pretty for just one flower, really. her beauty would outshine it.”

atlas didn’t quite understand, but he knew his dad was talking about how lovely his mama was, so he nodded, satisfied.

just then, the clink of a metal latch echoed from the house. niall appeared, hands on his hips, a football tucked under one arm, grinning as he made his way down the steps toward them. “ready for a bit o’ footie, then?” he called, his voice bright with that familiar lilting accent.

atlas perked up immediately, wriggling in harry’s hold. harry set him down, watching as he bolted across the lawn, little legs pumping as he met niall halfway.

“now, before we get started, little man,” niall began, crouching down to atlas’s level, “we need to sort somethin’ important.”

harry groaned, wandering over with a lazy grin. “oh, here we go. already brainwashing him, are ya?”

niall chuckled, tousling atlas’s hair. “only tryin’ to steer him right, yeah? see, atlas, your dad here likes the red team, manchester united.” he said it in a tone like he was explaining a tragic flaw. “but me? i’m derby county through and through. we’re the true underdogs.” he tapped atlas’s nose for emphasis.

atlas tilted his head, clearly confused. he looked up at his dad, brow furrowed. “the red team, daddy?”

harry laughed, ruffling atlas’s curls. “that’s right, mate. we’re united fans, us. always cheer for the red team.”

niall clutched his chest in mock horror. “ah, but atlas, don’t you want to support a real team, one with heart?”

atlas just blinked between them, completely lost but amused by their playful bickering. he didn’t quite get why it mattered, but he knew his dad loved the red team, so that’s what he’d cheer for, every time.

“alright, enough of that,” niall said with a wink, rolling the football out in front of him. “time for a proper match. let’s see what you’ve got, little man.”

“think y’can win, attie?” harry asked, grinning wide as he kicked the ball softly toward atlas, who stumbled back a step as the ball nudged his bare foot.

atlas giggled, a bubbling, bright sound that made both men laugh. he glanced down at the ball, brows furrowing like he was trying to solve a puzzle, then he looked up with a determined expression. “i can beat you,” he declared, puffing out his chest with all the seriousness a four-year-old could muster.

“oh, he’s got a bit of fire in him!” niall laughed, straightening up and adjusting the dandelion in the boy’s hair. “good lad. that’s what i like to see.”

harry crouched down to meet atlas’s eye level, his smile softening. “alright, bubba. let’s start with the basics, yeah?” he placed a hand gently on atlas’s shoulder, guiding him toward the ball. “all you’ve got to do is kick it nice and easy, right to uncle niall.”

atlas gave a determined nod, his little face scrunched in concentration. he took a step back, wriggled his toes in the grass, then swung his leg forward with a small grunt. the ball wobbled and rolled just a few feet, but it was enough to get a cheer from both men.

“that’s it!” niall called, clapping his hands together as he jogged forward to stop the ball with the inside of his foot. “perfect! now let’s try somethin’ a bit trickier, yeah?” he gave the ball a gentle nudge back toward atlas. “this time, try keepin’ it goin’. we’ll pass it back and forth.”

harry stayed beside him, his hand resting lightly on his son’s shoulder, offering small tips here and there as the ball rolled between them. atlas’s kicks were unsteady, more little taps than proper strikes, but each time he got the ball to move, his face lit up like he’d just scored a winning goal.

after a few minutes, harry stepped back, letting atlas and niall keep the rhythm on their own. he folded his arms, watching them play, the gentle back-and-forth, the easy flow of laughter. niall, ever patient, exaggerated his reactions to every kick, even the weak ones, stumbling back dramatically as if atlas had knocked him off balance. it sent atlas into fits of giggles, his small frame shaking with the force of it.

“look at that!” niall called, holding his arms wide in mock surrender after a particularly strong kick from atlas. “we’ve got ourselves a future champion here! sign ‘im up for derby now, i say!”

“oi, back off,” harry said, joining them again with a wide grin. he scooped atlas up, making the little boy squeal as he swung him around in a wide arc before setting him back down. “he’s stickin’ with united. right, attie?”

atlas just beamed up at them, not understanding but pleased to be the center of attention. “yeah!” he agreed, without really knowing what he was agreeing to. “the red team!”

“traitor,” niall muttered, though his eyes were bright with laughter.

“nah, he’s just smart,” harry teased, tapping the ball with his bare foot and sending it toward niall, who caught it with an easy stop. they moved seamlessly into a light game, the ball pinging between the three of them, atlas racing after every pass with a fierce determination.

niall leaned down, conspiratorially. “tell ya what, atlas,” he said, his tone lowering as if he were revealing a great secret. “if you can get the ball past your dad just once, i’ll let you wear my derby county jersey.”

harry raised a brow, feigning indignation. “oh, no you don’t. we’re not corrupting him with your bad taste in football, mate.”

but the boy’s eyes widened with the challenge, his cheeks pink and his grin growing mischievous. he turned, the tiniest flicker of determination lighting up his eyes as he faced his dad, who crouched down slightly, hands out in front like a goalie.

“you think you can get past me, bub?” harry said, a playful glint in his eyes.

atlas didn’t answer. instead, he lunged forward, feet slipping in the damp grass as he pushed the ball with both tiny feet, charging straight at his dad. harry bit back a laugh, shuffling to the left and blocking the ball gently with his foot. atlas let out a tiny growl of frustration, spinning around and kicking again, his effort all concentration and floppy limbs.

niall ran amuck from the sidelines, letting out hushed yells to mimic that of a roaring crowd. “go on, atlas! you’ve got ‘em! he’s not that quick, trust me!”

harry shot niall a mock glare but couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up as atlas kept trying, little determined sounds huffing from him with every move. finally, with a wide grin, harry let himself stumble just a little too dramatically, the ball slipping past him as atlas charged forward.

“he’s done it!” niall whooped, jumping in the air and throwing his arms wide as if they’d just won the league. “you got him, attie! you scored!”

he froze for a second, blinking in surprise at the empty space in front of him where his dad had been. then he let out a triumphant yell, arms shooting up in the air. “i did it! i did it!”

harry caught him up in his arms, twirling him around until atlas’s laughter rang out, loud and joyful. “you did, mate,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of his son’s head. “you got me.”

niall jogged over, slinging an arm around harry’s shoulders and holding his other hand out for a high-five, which atlas delivered with a delighted smack. “a promise is a promise,” niall said, grinning wide. “you’ll be gettin’ that derby jersey from me. though, your dad might never forgive me for it.”

“we’ll talk about that later,” harry said, giving niall a playful shove. then he turned back to atlas, setting him down and ruffling his hair again. “but for now, let’s see if you can do it again. think you’ve got another goal in you?”

atlas’s eyes gleamed with excitement as he nodded, puffing out his chest. “i can do it! m’the best player ever!”

“that’s the spirit,” niall said, positioning himself across from them and rolling the ball back to atlas. “ready when you are, champ.”

the afternoon stretched on, niall disappearing inside for a bit before reappearing at the back door, this time not with a ball, but with his battered acoustic guitar slung over one shoulder. the old wood caught the golden light just right, warm honey glinting off the curves. “thought we’d change things up a bit,” he called out, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. he settled onto the cool grass under the shade of the willow tree, cradling the guitar in his lap.

“oh, you’re quittin’ already?” harry teased, giving the football a gentle tap with his toe toward yn, who was standing barefoot a few steps away, her hair a soft tangle in the breeze. atlas stood between them, his little legs bouncing as he tried to mimic the back-and-forth passes between his parents.

“nah,” niall replied, the strings thrumming under his fingers as he absentmindedly strummed a chord, “just thought atlas could use a break from whoopin’ your arse.”

the little one giggled, spinning around in circles as harry pretended to stumble back dramatically. yn gave the ball a light kick back to her husband, the sunlight catching the bright colors of her sundress, and harry caught it with a playful flourish. the three of them formed a small, easy triangle in the yard, the ball moving lazily between them as niall started picking out a familiar melody.

“come here, little rockstar,” niall said, patting his knee and looking over at atlas with a soft smile. “fancy learnin’ a tune?” atlas hesitated, glancing up at his dad, who gave him an encouraging nod.

“go on, attie,” harry urged, scooping the ball into his hands to pause the game. “uncle niall’s got a song for ya.”

atlas’s eyes widened, curiosity shining bright as he trotted over, plopping himself down in niall’s lap with a trusting little wiggle. the guitar was far too big for him, the wooden body swallowing his small frame as niall adjusted the position, balancing the neck across atlas’s knees.

“alright, kiddo,” niall said, his voice low and patient as he wrapped atlas’s small hands around the neck of the guitar, guiding his tiny fingers to press down on the strings. “these are called chords, yeah? they make the music. we’re gonna try somethin’ special.”

yn and harry settled down in the grass just in front of them, harry’s arm slipping around her waist as they leaned back on their elbows, watching the scene unfold with soft smiles. atlas’s little fingers fumbled against the strings, pressing too hard and too light in the same awkward movements, but niall was endlessly patient, his hands covering the boy’s, guiding him with an easy confidence.

“this one’s called a ‘g chord,’” niall explained, carefully placing atlas’s index finger on the right fret, his own fingers moving over atlas’s to show him the way. “we’re gonna play a bit of my song, yeah?”

atlas nodded solemnly, like he understood, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in deep concentration. he strummed the strings with a jerky motion, producing a sound that was more discordant twang than melody. niall chuckled softly, adjusting atlas’s grip with a patient hand. “easy there, mate. it’s all about bein’ gentle, like you were with those potato bugs earlier.”

“like this?” he asked, his face scrunched in determined focus as he tried again, fingers splayed awkwardly over the frets. he plucked at the strings with all the finesse of a four-year-old, the sound shaky and uneven, but undeniably proud.

“that’s it!” niall encouraged, his voice warm and easy. “you’re doin’ perfect, bud. let’s try a bit more, yeah?” he hummed the opening bars of the song under his breath, guiding atlas through each shaky strum, the boy’s small fingers following his lead with a mixture of curiosity and pure, bright determination.

harry’s hand squeezed yn’s gently, his gaze soft as he watched his son try so earnestly. “he’s really into it, isn’t he?” yn murmured, resting her head on harry’s shoulder.

“yeah,” harry replied, his voice low, almost reverent. “reminds me of myself.”

atlas’s fingers slipped off the strings, causing a strange, discordant twang, but niall just laughed and nudged him gently. “no worries, champ. it takes a while to get it right. even i messed up plenty when i was young—ask your dad, he’ll tell ya.”

“he’s tellin’ the truth,” harry interjected with a grin, leaning back on one hand while still holding yn close. “used to be a nightmare. couldn’t get through a song without stoppin’ every few seconds.”

niall pretended to look wounded, pressing a hand dramatically to his heart. “oi, easy, now! this is a teachin’ moment, not a roast!” atlas giggled at the banter, his chubby hands clinging tighter to the guitar.

“let’s try again,”he suggested softly, tapping atlas’s little hand in encouragement. “i’ll help you with the chords, and you just strum when i say, alright?”

the curly haired boy nodded, his eyes wide and focused, and together they moved slowly, atlas’s fingers guided with care over the strings as niall led him through the simplest, gentlest notes of his song. it was more noise than song, a jumbled mix of too-loud and too-soft strums, but there was a rhythm to it, a quiet kind of magic in the way atlas’s brow furrowed with every sound he managed to coax from the instrument.

they played like that for a while, atlas’s small body wrapped in the circle of niall’s arms, the guitar humming under their hands, filling the late afternoon air with its uneven melody. the sun dipped lower, casting long, soft shadows across the grass, the golden light wrapping them all in its warm, fading glow.

when they finally finished, atlas let out a triumphant sigh, dropping his hands from the strings and leaning back into niall’s chest. “i did it,” he said with a breathless sort of wonder.

“that you did, little man,” niall replied, resting his chin lightly on top of atlas’s head, the smile in his voice clear as day. “you played your first song.”

harry clapped softly, his eyes shining with something tender as yn leaned against him, her arm around his waist. “we’ve got ourselves a musician,” he said quietly, his voice caught somewhere between pride and awe.

atlas beamed, his cheeks pink from the effort, his eyes bright with a happiness so pure and unfiltered that it tugged at everyone’s heart. “i wanna play another one,” he declared, turning to look up at niall with wide, eager eyes.

niall laughed, ruffling atlas’s messy curls. “we’ll make a rockstar outta you yet, mate. but maybe we’ll leave the heavy stuff for another day, yeah? for now, you did brilliant.”

they all sat there for a moment longer, the last traces of sunlight casting everything in a honeyed glow, the guitar cradled in atlas’s lap, his small hands still resting on the strings as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go. the world felt quieter somehow, the soft hum of the summer evening settling around them, and for a brief, perfect moment, everything was exactly as it should be.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles concept #harry styles dad #dadrry

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reidsbabyhoney · 5 months ago

Text

night out | hozier

the one where he gets drunk and falls in love with you all over again.

pairing: hozier x wife!reader category: fluff cw: drinking, being at a bar wc: 1.7k a/n: I'm so so sorry this took so long to write, I just had midterms for all of my classes and had absolutely no free time, but I'm finally on break so Im hoping to get more stories out these next couple of weeks! this was a request, so i hope you love it. reader is a book store owner and that is very self indulgent of my dreams of one day maybe owing a book store if nothing else works out for me. (outfit described can be found here, but as always imagine it however you like

masterlist hozier masterlist

This was the first time in what felt like years that you and Andrew were finally taking up an offer to go out.

Since the tour began, the band had invited you both out multiple times, but neither of you accepted, claiming to be too tired after the shows.

Since this was the first time that you had been able to join Andrew on tour, you were taking up as much quality time as you could get from him when he wasn't busy running around during sound check and doing interviews.

That was another reason you both declined going out multiple times deciding to spend...quality time with each other behind the doors of hotel rooms.

But tonight, you both agreed to go out when Alex asked if you would be joining the rest of the band, saying they were going to a bar just down the street from the hotel you were staying at.

Walking down the sidewalk to the bar, you’re hand in hand with Andrew who’s softly humming to himself.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he says, taking in your outfit.

It was nothing extravagant, though you did want to look a bit nicer. Just a simple satin slip dress with some red boots for a pop of color and your usual purse.

“Mm thank you, you look handsome tonight too, I say we just go back to the hotel room,” you respond with a mischievous smile.

He’s simply wearing a jumper with a white t-shirt underneath and a pair of jeans, but the way his sleeves are rolled up makes you want to drag him back to the hotel room and stay there for days.

At your remark, he playfully pinches your hip and shakes his head, “No, you minx. We’re going out because you wanted to, let’s keep that in mind.”

You let out a huff as he opens the door to the bar, which looks to be busy as you eye the tables are full of people.

Surveying the bar, you quickly spot Melissa and both make your way towards the table they’ve claimed.

After greeting them all, everyone goes their own way. Alex decides to drag Andrew to the corner of the bar where the pool tables are stationed.

Over hearing his plans on getting your husband absolutely hammered tonight, you simply shake your head with a small laugh and send him off with a kiss.

An hour passes and you've had a few drinks, deciding to stay near the table and observe everyone in the cramped space.

Realizing you haven't seen Andrew in a while, you get up from your spot at the table, asking Joy if she’d seen him anywhere.

“Oh yeah, last I saw he and Alex were by the bar, I think Melissa might be over there too,” she says, pointing to where Andrew’s tall body stood at the end of the bar.

“Thank you.”

You walk over to where the three of them are standing, deciding to talk to Melissa first since Alex seems to have your husband deep in thought.

“Please tell me he hasn’t had more than 4 drinks,” you say to Melissa as she just lets out a laugh.

“I’m afraid he might be well past that y/n/n.”

Turning towards Andrew you see him looking at you as if he was met with the most divine creature in the world.

“Go on, talk to the pretty girl Andy,” says Alex, trying his hardest to hold back a laugh.

Your eyebrows basically reach your hairline as he says that, no way he’s so hammered he’s forgotten you’re married.

“Hi, em, hi, m’names Andrew, or Andy’s fine too,” he says looking a bit shy.

You just look towards Alex instead of answering, "Alex, when you said you planned on getting him hammered, I didn't think you meant it was going to be this bad!"

All he does is laugh and shrug his shoulders, finding this situation amusing.

Sighing, you know there’s no way that he’ll believe you’re truly married if you try explaining it to him now, so you decide to play into it a bit.

Smiling you shake your head and respond “ I’m y/n, it’s great to meet you Andy.”

Both Melissa and Alex just laugh, deciding to leave you both in the empty corner of the bar.

“I hope I’m not being too forward y/n, but you’re truly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You grow a bit shy at his words, your cheeks covered in a faint blush. The conversation is reminding you of when you first met years ago, his words almost the exact same.

“No baby, not too forward at all."

“I just, well not to sound creepy, but you caught my eye while you were sitting down over there and I'm afraid to admit I was nervous to go over and introduce myself first," he says looking down at his hands as if he's embarrassed by his confession.

Your smile brightens at his words. You're truly about to swoon over this man all over again.

"Well then, I'm glad I came over here first. How about we go sit down with our friends over there yeah?” you say, pointing to where the rest of the band is.

Andrew responds by quickly nodding his head and grabbing your hand to guide you through the still very packed bar.

“Here come the lovebirds.”

Of course it’s Alex that says this, still finding extreme delight in your husband's current state.

Looking at the rest of the table, it seems like he’s caught everyone up on what’s happened because they all look at you with small smiles on their faces.

Taking your seat at the booth, sitting between Joy and Andrew the conversation starts back up again.

Your husband turns towards you and begins asking you questions.

"So, y/n, where are y'from," he asks. He's looking at you as if trying to memorize your every feature.

You shy under his intense stare, and it takes you a second to respond.

"Well, I live in Ireland."

His eyes basically pop out of his skull at your answer, surprised as if there aren't millions of people living in the country.

"Seriously, me too," his eyes bright with excitement realizing that this could possibly go somewhere, little does he [currently] know, it already has.

"Yeah I live in County Wicklow with my husband."

His face brightens then immediately falls once you finish your sentence.

"Husband?"

"Baby, look at your left hand for me, yeah?"

Doing as you say, Andrew looks at his hand that's rested on the table, finally noticing the wedding ring on his finger.

"Now take it off and look inside," you say, taking off your ring to show him the matching engraving details on the inside of both your rings.

"Andrew & y/n. April 23, 2022," he says reading the date of your wedding.

It takes him a second to realize what it means, but once it clicks, he's looking up at you, wide eyed.

"We're married! Alex, why didn't you say I was married to her," he says turning to his friend, who seems all too pleased that this conversation is happening.

Alex simply takes a swig of his beer and chuckles, "Y'never asked."

Andrew then turns towards you with embarrassment washing over his features, "Gods, I'm mortified love, and you're never going to let me live this down are you?"

You just shake your head and laugh, planting a kiss on his cheek, "Nope."

Laughing at his reaction, you decide that it may be time to leave, realizing it's nearing one in the morning.

"C'mon, let's go back to the hotel so you have enough rest to actually be embarrassed about this tomorrow."

With that, you get out of the booth and say your goodbyes to everyone.

Walking out of the bar, there's a slight chill in the air, causing Andrew to take off his sweater and hand it to you.

Taking it, you pull it over your dress and walk hand in hand back to the hotel.

Reaching your room, you pull out the key card to your shared room, opening the door wide enough for both of you to walk in.

"I can't believe I'm so far gone I didn't even remember we were married," Andrew says as he sits down on the bed to take off his shoes.

"I know, me either, I mean how could you forget you were married to me," you say jokingly, dragging your hands down your body to emphasize what he was forgetting.

Andrew just laughs and shakes his head.

He notices you going to the bathroom and turns towards you, "Aren't you coming to bed?"

"In a bit, I just need to take off my makeup," you reply.

Andrew patiently waits for you in the bed in his pajamas which consist of a pair of pajama pants that are far too old to still be worn, and a beat up shirt he'll eventually take off, claiming to be too hot. (Even though he'll later wrap his arms around you dragging you as close as he possibly could, and wake up in the morning complaining that you "radiate too much body heat", even if he's the one that starts the cuddling.)

Shortly after, you make your way out of the bathroom, fresh faced and in your own pajamas.

Getting under the covers you turn on the lamp on your nightstand and expectantly wait for Andrew to do the same.

When he doesn't, you look towards the end of the bed where he's sat.

"Andy, aren't you coming to bed?"

"I, I know we're married but, it feels odd sleeping with you, I feel like I should take you out to dinner first," he says sheepishly, finally turning to face you.

"Don't worry, you've wined and dined me many times, so I'm not worried about that, now let's go to sleep," you say.

Finally Andrew gets on his side of the bed, turning on his side so that he's facing you.

Letting out an exasperated sigh he just shakes his head and one final time asks, "I'm never forgetting about this am I?"

Letting out a fake snore, you pretend you're asleep instead of answering him though he already knows the answer.

Andrew just chuckles, knowing that whatever comes tomorrow would be worth it, cause he got to relive what it felt like to fall in love with you again.

divider: @fairytopea

tags: @man-i-love-folklore @the-song-of-flowers @songbirds-sweet @cowboycatreign @harnans @celery-grace @genevievetaylorsversion22 @alexis-34 @inejghafawifesblog @colddarkearth23 @hauntedworld @sleepy-time-dreamy @lemon9de @midsummervixen

#andrew hozier byrne #reidsbabyhoney #my fics #hozier x reader #hozier #hozier x fem!reader #fluff #hozier fic recs #I'm sorry this took me so long I've been in a writing slump please forgive me

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lis-zhuk · 7 months ago

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TDL & TCO - fusion

a comic-collaboration with @vulami-wantz-t0-sleep

So... yeah. They can merge for they are very simple organisms (plasmoids).

And while for Internet sticks merging can be dangerous - if they spend too much time merged, their innards and magic (even if they have little to no magical potential) meld into one, making two separated sticks into a creature with two cores; for Animated stickmen (or Hollowheads) it is hard. They mostly consist of magic and are active users of it (staring at you, Second) so they have a greater control over it and are more natural. Also, Hollowheads don't have cores - their cytoplasm is much thicker and membranes are almost impenetrable.

Note: fusions can happen between more than two sticks, but they are difficult to both perform and sustain, they lack stability and the new self is in constant pain.

So for Animated sticks merging is the question of syncing their flows and entering the state of mutual acceptance. Their mind stays two, but they enter a slow dance of balance that creates the third self - "us" of the two. It has consciousness and understanding of itself as two combined. It exists only in the fusion and proactively reacts to whatever its parts are doing.

In a way, fusion is a long magic exchange between two.

Note: Merging with someone can be seen in many ways, from weakness (too weak on one's own) to a making out session

In calm state it's collected and whole, either being a rough merge of the components' personalities and/or reflexes or a whole new person, having only the childish wonder and some critical memories of both of the sticks. When the parts become unstable the fusion feels pain, as their body becomes to split back into two forcefully.

(an old ref for TCL, previously - TOL)

(new TCL concept)

TCL likes being, just being in general. They presumably formed their personality from little bits of both TDL's and TCO's minds. They don't belong to Alan but aren't that different from a usual hollowhead. TCL has high stability and can endure the pain of Dark getting fascinated over a sunset from bird flight's height or enraged by some rando. They can channel all the excessive emotions of the parts into their own. For a short while after the first TCO's and TDL's merge they had halves of their hair swapped, exchanging some powers too. After that they had to force a mana exchange (Dark almost caused a local cataclysm while trying to go on a flight)

Note: TCL most likely uses a different name, like Cataclysm or Hazard. TCL is just a placeholder.

Usually, after the sticks divide, for a short while (while there is mana that didn't divide properly) they can hear their combined self in half-conscious space or have bits of other's memories. As hollowheads keep all the info throughout their whole body (okay im voting for the primitive colony structure, lis can't continue stating that they are unicellular with this stuff going on)

#alan becker #ava #fanart #animation vs animator #ava the chosen one #ava the dark lord #chodark #comic #ava chodark #fusion #can be read as platonic or romantic #headcanon #hdc heavy

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hs-transfusion · 1 year ago

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> GAMZEE MAKARA

HEMO: Mutant (#626262) TROLLTAG: tentativeCirque [TC] SIGN: Cancap, Sign of the Sheltered STRIFE: batkind MODUS: Charades LUNAR SWAY: Derse MYTH. ROLE: Page of Mind LAND: Land of Dreams and Darkness

TC: nahhh bro. im just gonna be here diving the FUCK out of this dumpster.

Many people yearn to find a PLACE IN LIFE, but few trolls struggle more than Gamzee Makara. With NO HIVE and only the CLOTHES ON HIS BACK to his name, he drifts from place to place atop his lusus (unaware that he's simply WALKING IN CIRCLES). His only other possessions are those he finds by DUMPSTER DIVING. Because of his lack of social life, he has the SOCIAL GRACES of a sack of potatoes.

Gamzee looks up to a group of fictional mirthamaniacs called the CIRCONQUERORS DU SOLEIL, modelling his drifting lifestyle and knack for RESOURCEFULNESS from their no-holds-barred approach to pillaging the galaxy as they see fit. He also enjoys annoying his friends with RIDDLES. Some day he aspires to be a COMEDIANTAGONIST, though his friends recommend he not quit his night job.

Gamzee's CHARADES Fetch Modus is as simple as it sounds: to retrieve an item, he must mime the item in a way his sylladex can interpret.

Gamzee's lusus is classified as the GRUFF ARCHCAPRA; a huge goat-like creature that, coincidentally, resembles a LARGE STONE BRIDGE. His hard, rocky body is completely IMMUNE TO THE SUN, so during the day Gamzee takes shelter under his long, concave belly. This officially makes Gamzee a TROLL LIVING UNDER A BRIDGE.

The Land of DREAMS AND DARKNESS is a cavernous planet shrouded in PINK MIST. It's not toxic, but inhaling too much of it will PUT YOU TO SLEEP in no time. Legend says the denizen, EPIMETHEUS, slumbers in the planet's core, toiling in an ETERNAL NIGHTMARE. Legend also says that LODAD is a world dreamed up by Epimetheus in the first place, so waking him up risks dire consequences.

Gamzee's ancestor is known as The NAMELESS. After attempting to OVERTHROW THE EMPRESS, he was punished by having his entire identity WIPED FROM HISTORY. His story lives on among elite CARNIVALIANTS, as The Nameless was close matesprits with the leader of all subjugglators.

#homestuck #transfusion au #gamzee makara #hiveswap #bloodswap

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thatnonameuser · 3 months ago

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okay but how did almost EVERYONE in this society end up with yandere blood? Im so interested in the lore. Is it a curse of some sort? A normal human being has the capability of feeling pity for another, and the fact that most yanderes lack it feels so scary. How did they all end up like that? Would they be able to redeem as the story goes on? Will there be more endings to the story??

How can more than half of the population be yanderes? How could so many people become yanderes over the course of centuries losing all their empathy when it comes to a partner's unhappiness all because they’re with them?

Well, it’s simple really. Magic.

TWST is a world full of magic. Which exists in nearly everything, the forests, the seas, deep within the ground and high in the skies. Magic is everywhere and isn’t the most powerful one of all is the magic of love?

Love is maddening, sickening and destructive. Regardless of whether it’s platonic and romantic, we all crave love and hold quite a bit of magic. And that magic is everywhere, but unlike all the magic that helps plants grow and rain fall, the magic of love is like a parasite, worming its way into the hearts and minds of whatever creature it can reach.

And whether they’d turn out to be yanderes or darlings, that magic would latch onto them like a leech and not let go.

The animals of the world were the first to be influenced by the magic’s unbreakable influence. The magic of this world directs hundreds of species together, manipulating their instincts to revolve around that obsession. Animals can’t exist beyond their innate instincts, so combined with the magic growing within them like fungi, most of them became even more possessive, protective, and obsessive.

And the others, the ones that didn’t become violent in the name of the mates or kin, became the new prey of the infected few. Whether they liked it or not, accepted it or rejected it is unknown as all are still under the same effect of the magic.

The kind that turns partners and mates into prey.

After some time it began to influence people, with thoughts outside of animalistic instincts. It grew to be devoted, clingy, and sadistic. The magic of the world became a part of the bodies. Genetic is likely the best term for it.

The fae were the first people to ever be affected by the magic that drove them to love so obsessively. Born of the world’s magic, it’s influence on how they perceive love. Made of magic and still carrying many of the base instincts of animals, the fae were likely the first species to evolve outside of the three first instincts.

Born deeply affected by the full force of the influence of that magic, they seek out that need for love, that search for another's love is ingrained to their being. It’s a crucial part of them, irremovable, incurable.

So when the fae became a society. So when the Thorn Fairy became the start of what would grow to be the Draconia bloodline. For centuries, they lived for finding their one true love, their mate, their other half, whatever they wanted to call it, for fear of the pain of loneliness that the magic had burdened them with. And that magic which both fueled them and ruled them, would always linger. The fae lived like that for thousands of years all the way up into the modern day fueled by that magic’s influence.

After the fae, it was the beastmen and mer-folk.

Since they weren’t born with the same connection of magic as the fae, it took much longer for them to start being affected by the magic’s influence. But because they were born with the same animalistic instincts that the regular animals did. So while they weren’t originally born with that instinct ingrained into them, as time passed and the fae intermingled with them, that magic grew into them like a parasite.

While they may not have been originally born with that urge that the fae did, the magic infected them like a virus.

And after that, it was the human population. Though it took much longer than it did the prior three.

Originally born magicless, born without the animalistic instincts of the beastmen or the merfolk, they were the ones that were originally different. To them, free of the forced instincts that the world’s magic had, love was for companionship, out of shared interests and attraction. Not obsessive desire and possessiveness.

So they ultimately were different. But as previously stated, that magic would seep in like a disease.

It started with the Great Seven, and that exposure turned those who followed them into the yanderes they’d soon be. The normalization of seeing yanderes act the way they did strengthened the speed of the magic infecting them.

And after that it would just repeat. The more people being exposed to this behavior made the magic’s influence even stronger, infecting them and becoming irremovable. So once someone has been influenced and affected by the magic, their children could turn out to be yanderes just like them. After that, the rest is history as bloodlines spread and interconnected with others.

And over the years, it would get worse and worse, spreading farther and farther. But the sense of empathy and sympathy remained strong over those years no matter how many people were infected.

Love makes you care about someone. Makes you want to protect that someone. Makes that person necessary for your life, and should they be hurt, you would suffer too.

But like the disease it was. It would slowly increase the need and desire the point that empathy bore no more weight. The pain the magic left them with when trying to love their darlings through letting them be happy, became so great that kindness became an impossibility.

And after that, well, we all see what happens after that.

So you may ask, how do darlings exist if the magic is so strong?

Is it hard to believe that the darlings are immune? Well, yes because they aren’t.

The magic and its obsessive love requires at least two people. The person infected being fueled by that maniacal love, and the person they love. The magic twists the yandere’s mind and desires, and the magic also makes the darling the key to the yandere’s problems. The darling that the magic makes is the key to ending the yandere’s pain, which the magic has caused to begin with.

But darlings don’t feel the same twisted desires that yanderes do when it comes to love. Instead their view of love is more normal, where they seek someone that both loves them, but respects the boundaries that yanderes ignore. But the magic cares not for their desires.

Like a curse, it assigns darlings by random to their yanderes. Forcing them together. Pulling them like puppets on a string.

It’s a curse to darlings.

But to yanderes, it's just their nature. Can’t be changed, can’t be undone.

If there was a way to dispel the magic that controls and influences all of them, but no yandere ever looked for one of them. No one ever wanted anything to change. If redemption from the magic that controls all of them is possible, it would take a team of powerful and intellectual magicians to un-cross the wires.

But since they'd do anything for you, maybe it's possible to save them and countless of darlings. Just maybe.

Also sorry if this is a ramble. Hope this answered your questions.

#ask #yandere #yandereverse au #worldbuilding

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sincerelyverena · 10 months ago

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pls pls pls charles x short!alive!reader? established relationship, maybe just some fluffy moments between the two?

⟡⁺ THE GHOST OF YOU

tysm for the req, anon! 💞💞 ive thoroughly enjoyed my return here, n now the story is yours n i hoped u enjoyed it as much as i loved writing it <3 special shoutout to my dbd betareaders, i love and appreciate all of u sm!

. . . CHARLES ROWLAND X GN!READER ‘think i like you best when you're just with me and no one else.’ @andforthecoating

inbox is always open for requests!

in whichꕀ

✦ ﹒you love him. and he loves you too. a story as simple as that.

tagsꕀ

✦ ﹒fluff ﹐short!reader﹐alive!reader ﹐established relationship ﹐im still getting a feel for charles character so go easy on me pls ﹐havent written non-smut in a long LONG time

THANK YOU TO MY WONDERFUL BETA READERS: @love-xoxojules﹐@immortal101 ﹐@fadedpictures91 ﹐@charles-rxwlands﹐ @kidbiscuitt @smallestgremlin

Falling in love with a ghost wasn’t on the cards for you, until you met Charles Rowland.

The supernatural had haunted you since you were a small child, being the victim of a near-death experience isn’t easy on any youngling. Especially you. The consequences of viewing these seemingly mythological creatures took years of patience and silent work to endure, more so, because nobody would ever believe you if you told them you saw ghosts. How ghastly.

And as a young child, you couldn’t imagine that decades into the future, you’d be laid between the arms of one. Two bronzed columns that supported the minuscule length of your torso. And for a ghost? Charles is oddly warm. Or maybe that’s you warming up to your idea of your body heat, marinating in the crisp sheets of your bed. A sanctuary the two of you now shared, together.

But it was nice to think that it was Charles too. He was the reason why you felt comfortable and protected after all. In a world of witchcraft, warlocks, dangers, and death Charles was your home.

A pair of bow-turned lips place themselves against your temple, assisting you in drifting out of sleep. Charles murmurs against the surface of your skin, planting scattered kisses along the top of your head in the process. ‘Dove, we’re meeting Crystal for coffee, remember?’

Charles’s gently mustered words are enough to serenade a response out of your sleepy self. You murmur incoherent words, flipping yourself over so that when you inch your eyes open, they can delight in your boyfriend’s beauty.

His ebony-clad curls are fluffed to perfection atop his head, not a hint of bed-head in sight, which you consider impressive before you remember that Charles mostly spent the night just watching you. As if nothing else in the world matters. You extend a hand to the defined curve of his jaw, practically guiding his lips toward your own. They lock together in familiarity, and nothing but pure, honeyed ecstasy buzzes throughout you. This is better than coffee, better than anything. Charles tasted like heaven, hell, and everything in between.

And as you two separated, Charles beamed down at you with something indescribable bouncing around in his whiskey eyes. ‘I think a sleep-in wouldn’t hurt, now, would it?’ Rising to the day seems like the logical option. Something that barely crosses your mind for a second before you fall captive to those bronzed arms, weaving around the hitch of your waist. And before you know it, you discover yourself half-tossed atop the ghost you had fallen for. The tall length of his legs tangled with your own. And any responsible, adult-like thought dissolved as your lips crashed together. Something oh-so-destructible yet perfect, how could you say no?

And possibly, that perfect destruction is always the reason why you both are considered late to possibly anything imaginable. If Edwin found himself in the depths of the fiery circles of hell again, the entire group would bet that you and Charles would take an eternity to part before he’d get rescued. It’d be more beneficial for Edwin to smuggle out himself.

‘We’re going to be awfully late, angel.’

‘Maybe because you keep distracting me.’

‘Nonsense, I’m brills and can do no wrong.’

You tear your eyes away from your reflection in the mirror before you. You scrutinise Charles with a disbelieving gaze at his words, which shortly dissolve into nothing less than adoration. Nevertheless, you continued to feign annoyance as you combed a single hand through your hair and down your scalp. Fingers adjusting the little strands to suit your desire for tidiness.

You abandon this aspiration, pivoting upon your heel. The mask of annoyance you pertain slips away into nothingness as a soft laugh escapes you amid your words. Facing your boyfriend, you slip a hand into his own.

‘You’re lucky that I love you.’

'I am so very lucky.'

Charles’ adjusted his position as he moved his lips from the curve of your forehead, toward the curve of your lips. There was something passionate about how the deep onyx of hues sparked with something even deeper. Something warm and honeyed, indescribable. And before you could even decipher what it was you could feel the honeyed taste of him upon your lips, Charles scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder.

His arm relented against the small of your back, even as you holler out empty threats and meaningless curses amid your laughter. This merely prompted Charles to bounce you atop his shoulder blade, a chuckle of his own heard as you huffed and puffed. Nevertheless, you would refuse to admit that the action of soft intimacy made you feel over the moon with exhilaration.

A curse of Charles’s own accompanied your laughter as he was a breath away from the side of his torso slamming into the doorway he attempted to parade you through, which frankly made you laugh harder.

‘You’re such a dick.’ You managed to wheeze out.

‘I think you may be right about that one.’

Charles’s voice sounded with a tinge of mischief, which crept, announced in his tone. You could almost hear the grin in his voice as he articulated his words, even through your limited peripheral vision as you were held captive in his arms.

‘You love it, though.’

The Charles-like cockiness your boyfriend presented caused you to blow out a breath of feigned exasperation. Yet, unbeknownst to him, the slow ghost of a smile proceeded to creep onto your lips. Especially as he continued to balance you upon the bridge of his broadened shoulder, for a hint of dramatics, of course. Because you did love it.

And as the two of you ventured toward inevitable lateness, you couldn’t help but think how you couldn’t wait to do it all again the following morning.

WORD COUNT: 973 MASTERLIST REQ ME!

#📂﹟𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐬 .ᐟ #📁﹟𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 .ᐟ #🖇️﹟ 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 .ᐟ #👻 ﹟ 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞��𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 .ᐟ #🏏 ﹟ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 .ᐟ #sincerelyverena #fanfiction #dead boy detectives fic #dead boy detective agency #dead boy detectives #charles rowland/you #charles rowland/reader #charles rowland x you #charles rowland x reader #charles rowland #niko sasaki #crystal palace #edwin payne

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love-toxin · 2 years ago

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Ellie i want astarion to fuck my mouth

im SO sorry queen i had to make the meow meow a lil emotionally vulnerable while im at it pls forgive me 🐸

(cws: gn!reader, vampire fuckery, bg3 spoilers, oral (m! receiving), teasing, possibly ooc astarion bc im only starting act 2 LOL, jealousy sex, deepthroating, a touch of feral/rough sex, facefucking, astarion is so in love it makes him look stupid <3)

word count: 3.9k

Once again, an evening spent with your mind somewhere else is interrupted by something you weren't expecting. The fire gleams from the pit and washes warmth across your face, a glow cast over your skin as you sit with your fingers white-knuckling a cold mug. Your companions are off on their own save for Scratch, who despite being a bit furrier than the tavern's normal patrons sleeps quietly at your feet. It barely took any convincing to let him in considering the rather stellar reputation you've earned yourselves–not to mention you're sharing a spot around the hearth with a couple frizzy-haired barbarians and a Tabaxi bard strumming out a tune on her lute. All seems peaceful, the noise just relaxed enough that you can let your mind wander about all manner of things. Ponder all sorts of worries you have yet to deal with on your adventure.

But it seems you're destined for an interruption. The back of your neck prickles from nowhere, a chill slithering coldly down your spine…from the corner of your eye you spot him, his pale hand vanishing behind a door on the second floor of the inn.

He's watching you. That's your cue, his methods of distraction always seeming so trivial and out of the way–he could always just come over and tap you on the shoulder. But Astarion likes the chase and isn't much of a fan of sincerity, so it's only natural for you to pass your half-empty mug off to one of the barbarians, get a bumbled shout of gratitude and a slap on the back, and slip away from the night's bustle of the tavern to thump your way up the winding stairs. All four of the rooms have been rented out by you and your party but one will sit empty tonight–aside from your gear, you're fairly certain your room will be unoccupied as you find other sleeping arrangements.

Tap tap. Just in case there's danger looming too close to comfort, you and your partner have a particular signal. Just as your knuckles come away from the door the tapping echoes back, tap tap, and you smother a grin as your fist closes around the knob for you to step inside.

The oak door thuds behind you at once and clicks softly as the latch falls in place. Nothing but the ire of a god or a drunken ogre could interrupt you now….but there's not much to interrupt if there's only one of you here, and as your eyes sweep the simple room you don't spot hide nor hair of your darling creature of the night. You've got a teasing remark on the tip of your tongue, ready to let loose-

"Don't. Move."

-But before you can even take a breath, there's a blade's edge digging into your throat and a cold, lean body pressed up against your backside. Effectively caught between a rock and a hard place. Prey. Astarion's whispered commands, however deep and punctuated they are, only send shivers of delight through you rather than true fear–and you find yourself struck with a dumb grin, not at all immune to the soft touch of his lips as they graze your tender neck from behind. He's got his arm pulled so snug around your waist it feels more like the grasp of a lover than a robbery, but that's because it is.

"Light on valuables, huh?" You tease over your shoulder, your hands braced against his arm as it holds the knife so dangerously close to your pulse point.

"You aren't. Show me what you've got, or I'll look myself." He murmurs back, breath cool as it puffs shallowly against your skin. It's somehow sweet when he tries to be so hard-to-get with you–maybe, you wonder, he doesn't yet realize how attached you are to him despite all you've been through already. Enough that you don't feel the bite of harsh, real danger in your peripheral, which sooner leads him to loosen his grip and push you forward with a palm on the base of your spine–all while tugging the knife out of the way, of course. If you asked him, he'd say it's because it would be a waste to spill such divine blood all over the ground.

As you turn yourself around to face him, you come eye-to-eye with the glaring tip of the knife yet again. Astarion is half-dressed, a bit disheveled, looking as though he's on the cusp of needing a drink again. Those carmine-coloured eyes echo some deep, violent desperation, one that shakes his voice as he commands you with total sincerity to strip.

"Will you join me?" You ask, your voice tinged with adoring hope. It irritates him, hope. Usually, at least. Usually it doesn't rub him as wrong when you're the one with hope in your heart, but evidently tonight is different if his scoff is anything to go by.

"That depends." His gaze flits away as he worries his lower lip between his teeth, not as careful about nicking it with his fangs as he usually is. Something surely must be wrong if he's acting so strange, especially since nothing has happened lately that's seemed to upset him…at least not that he's told you. It could be something else entirely, or something you don't have any idea about. Once he meets your eyes again, the hand he's gripping the dagger in lowers slowly. It was just a prop, after all–never a real threat. "...So long as you don't forget who you pledged your love to. Me. I won't stand for all this…this nonsense I've seen of late."

You cock your head in reply with a raised brow, questioning and curious of what on earth he could be referring to. Astarion rolls his eyes but it's most assuredly a gesture to mask how weak your sincerity makes him, your honesty painfully boring but, at the same time, endlessly endearing. With a sigh he tosses the knife aside in an arc, the handle flipping over blade for it to fall perfectly on the tip, sunk half an inch into the table by the bed. He's got his attention locked on it for long enough that the shuffling of fabric is what turns his head back towards you, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips on instinct as he watches your clothing slip off your positively tantalizing figure.

"We're gonna have to pay for that, you know." Whatever you're saying goes right through both ears, the way your giggles shake your shoulders being all that he can focus on right now. He can barely tear his eyes away once you've wiggled out of your bottoms, and you're swift to remind him of his stare when you cheekily throw the travel-worn trousers in his direction. But all he does is grab a handful of them and press them to his face, not soaking in the scent as much as the undeniable warmth from just coming off your legs. They're only an introduction, however. They're tossed right back at you without pause, and fall to the floor in a heap that Astarion carelessly steps over to get to you. To get closer. He can never really get close enough, ever.

Even an inch away from you, though, your love does nothing to close that last shred of distance between you. Where he was eager to touch you just a few minutes ago, now he keeps his hands down like he's nervous about grazing you with just his fingertips. But despite that you can clearly see how he keeps eyeing your lips, so if he won't meet you the rest of the way, you simply have to do it for him. A quick peck on the chin is too much yet not enough–he endures a noticeable quiver through his body that he tries to stifle, but he can't resist raising a hand to your neck and tilting your head higher, just enough that you won't miss this time when he plants his mouth on yours. Deeper this time, much deeper, with his tongue making an appearance to slither from a cold embrace to your unbearably hot one.

You'd love nothing more than to take it further right here, right now, but there's something stopping Astarion that you'd like to get to the bottom of. Just as he's getting a little lost in your kiss, his eyes shut and fangs scraping at your delicate tongue as it moves with his, you break it off with a warm hand pressed to his chest and bring him back to your unspoken question.

"Azzy, what's wrong?"

"Don't call me that," He snaps back suddenly, brow furrowed in immediate annoyance. He doesn't move away though–clearly you're a bit too enticing for him to rethink the embrace he has you in, nor the fact that you're bare and warm for nobody else but him. "So childish. Or did you simply forget my name already?"

"I could never forget you. Now tell me what's wrong, Az. You're acting weird."

This time, he just shoots you a glare that could kill you on the spot. It's damning, his fury terrifying enough written so plainly on his face….but it also stirs up something within you that won't be sated by words alone.

"Last time, darling. I'm warning you. And it's nothing. Just…" A shake of his head sends his perfect curls flying about, each one falling back into place more perfectly than he's coming across right now. "...I wish you had been around when I was alive. That's all."

"What do you mean?"

"The others are all…alive. Breathing. Warm. Some of them look at you like–like you aren't with me. Like they could sweep you off your feet without even a thought." He says it with so much defeat in his tone, so gently with so soft an edge that you almost can't hear it with the muffled sounds of the tavern under your feet. It's rare to hear him sound so…sad. It's a bit odd to think, but he often comes off younger than he is when he speaks this way. "Maybe, if…if I was with you, then…" He huffs, flinching away from your hand as it grazes his cheek. Yet, within a moment, he's turning back and nuzzling his face into your palm like he can't get enough, his hand coming up to brace your delicate wrist as if he's afraid you really will pull away from him. "...If I was with you, maybe I would never be what I am now."

"But I like who you are now." You insist, the smile slowly returning as it creases the edges of your lips. "I love you, Astarion. I mean it, I always will. Forever."

"Forever is a very long time, my sweet." You shoot him that naive look like you don't really get the gravity of what you're saying. You don't, on second thought–you haven't suffered through two immortal centuries like he has. "...Fine. You love me? Prove it, then."

His tone grows dark, as does the once-vibrant colour in his eyes. Something swirls about behind them like a shadow in the water of a blood-red lake.

"On your knees."

Huh?

"I said," The air grows hot around you despite the chill of his body on yours, a purr rising in the back of his throat as he pushes very gently on your shoulder. "Get on your knees."

And with his command hanging in the air, you follow so obediently you give him a pleasing shiver down the length of his spine and back. You sink down to the floor in one long, fluid motion, barely breaking eye contact as you brace yourself against his pale thighs. They don't even need your touch to come undressed, his pants falling with his thumbs hooked into the waist and tugged down just as easily as you did. He wastes no time in stepping out of them and kicking them away, but he doesn't really have the option to when you're already mesmerized by the image of what lies beneath–once the tip of his flushed, heavy cock sprung free of catching on his belt, you had your gaze glued to it like it's the first time you've ever laid eyes on him.

"I'll never get tired of this view." He smirks, all pompous and smug with no idea of the test of self-control he's about to face. Because although you may be the one beneath him, where you belong in this scenario, the haze over your eyes as you stare openly should be enough of a tell that your mouth is already watering. Astarion's gentle humming hits your ears as he takes himself in hand, tugging out a few slow strokes for your entertainment before he settles on holding it by the base, and guides it down towards your lips. He's so pale everywhere else that the ruddiness of the rubbery head is almost uncanny, but the pale pink blush that spreads throughout gives his flesh such a delicate look that you can't help but dive right in.

One slow, tentative lick up the tip, and Astarion has it written all over his face–he isn't going to be finished until you've got some bruises, that's for sure. You try another and he finally gets a grip on your head, fingers woven through your hair to keep you steady and to calm his trembling hands. Those soft kitten licks are always his weakness, each one a bit braver and deeper but peppered with hot little kisses in between. You press them all down the shaft and back, smearing the stiff flesh with spit and giving him a tongue bath that feels like it never ends–not that he wants it to, though. Those shaky breaths overhead are a telltale sign otherwise.

"More," He purrs, half-needy and half-demanding in the same breath. You kiss over his knuckles that still grip the base of his shaft, and can't help but smile up at him as he quietly taps the head against your lips, tap tap. Twice he knocks and begs silently for entry, and soon he releases a sigh from the depths of his belly as you swallow him down and welcome him in. "Show me what I deserve."

Astarion certainly doesn't need to tell you twice, he barely needs to tell you once. As soon as he's settled snugly where he belongs, he lets go of the grasp he had and watches in awe as you swallow. Every inch he thinks you can't take more of disappears inside your mouth, slid further and further until he starts to curve into the bend of your throat and loses the last vestiges of his willpower. All his strength saps into you like his teeth on your flesh–where he stole your power in your blood, you take it back just as easily with a flick of your tongue and the incessant squeeze of your throat.

"Getting impatient? Already? We've only just begun, love." You can feel the heat of his eyes shift as they turn further downward, no clothing able to serve as a boundary to hide the needy grind of your thighs together as you kneel. The reaction of your body to his rather lewd commentary doesn't help you either, and in one sweep of his gaze over your exposed figure he can see everything you're thinking like it's written across your skin in ink. "Don't stop rubbing those legs together. Show me just how badly you want me, darling."

It might be more embarrassing if you didn't know Astarion had seen it all already, and that he would most definitely be seeing much more of everything below in the future. The fact that you trust him with those fangs around all your sensitive areas is touching…and it also means he trusts you enough to be a little rougher when you're returning the favour. You've degraded yourself to a humiliating extent by being with him, by getting down on your knees for him no less, and with him wrapped so tight and cozy in your throat he's got a look like he's ready to make himself at home.

With a moan slipped in between the pauses, your beloved curls his thumbs down behind the shell of each ear, his palms laid flat against your temples so he won't let go so easily. The drawing back is easy, his cock parting less and less of the space inside until he's barely brought it back to the tip–but just as you're getting in a taste of his salty sweat and bitterly rich arousal as it sits heavy on your tongue, Astarion flashes you a wink and braces your face for impact as he thrusts back in. Your heat coddles every inch of him and shakes loose a string of raspy moans from his chest, while the scrape of your nails against his thighs and your soft, squirming tongue pressed flat against his girth only has him burning hotter. The first time is a tight fit for sure, but as he enters into a steady rhythm of pulling out and gliding past your sweet, stretched lips, each buck of his hips grows smoother and it gets easier with time. Sooner than either of you expected, you barely have to focus at all–you can sit nicely and let your attention wander up to his lusty gaze, idly suckling at whatever he manages to stuff inside for as long as he's able to keep it there.

"I know it's on your mind already, but tell me I'm beautiful, my sweet." Astarion croons like a cat to a mouse, speaking so sweetly like he isn't still ravaging the most tender areas of your throat, and fucking away any possibility of you speaking properly for the next little while. And he shows no signs of stopping, your squeaky, muffled moans as he grinds the heft of his cock against your tongue too delicious for him to think about it. But eventually he does, managing somehow to pry himself off of your beautiful, fucked-out, spit-slicked face to give you a chance. "Go on. Speak."

"Please," You croak, head hazy and your face dark with warmth. "You're so beautiful, Astarion, please. I love you."

"Will you love me forever?" You nod, the answer barely a hair's breadth from your swollen lips.

"For eternity."

Astarion takes a moment, a pause that lasts a lifetime or more, but the genuine joy that starts to spread across his smile could keep you alive for a century of centuries. It's not one you see often or ever see, but that makes it just as precious as any gold or treasure you might come across in your lifetime.

"...Eternity it is then, darling." One of those cold hands moves to stroke your hair, his touch fleeting yet his grip tight with desire as you lean in for a kiss–not on his lips, but rather the tip of his dick, of which is absolutely soaked by your influence…and of his readiness for the end, as you can see by the veins pulsing up the sides and the whole length twitching with anticipation. You can feel those little spasms through your tongue as it meets his slit, Astarion's chest heaving and fangs glinting as he gives in to the urges to nestle himself back inside. As much as he wants a proper kiss, he'll get one as soon as those frantic hips slow completely instead of picking up speed as he meets your delectable heat again. He could be using you for his pleasure alone for another two hundred years, and in your endless desire to please him you're not sure you'd oppose it–you know for a fact that once the centuries had passed, Astarion would be spending twice as long with his head down between your legs.

"One day, I'll tear that wretch of a vampire's heart out through his stomach," Astarion growls out of nowhere, suddenly sounding completely feral in the span of a moment. The ferocity with which he's fighting the tightness of your throat increases too, thought not much more than he already was–if you touched your neck you would feel the bulge of him sunk so deep he can see it, the rise and fall of that soft flesh tightening the knot in the pit of his belly. "-And we won't ever spend a day apart. I swear."

All you can do is ride with the pace he's offering, your throat cinching tight like a coinpurse the more he rams it with the full strength of his hips, nails digging into your scalp as he batters you rabidly without ever losing his grip. Soon, his query of "Ready, darling?" barely meets your ears, your attempt at not choking on each thrust and somehow sucking in a breath here and there too important for your survival.

And in a matter of moments, you're granted reprieve while also left hollow and empty at the same time, Astarion's fist yanking you back by the hair as he sucks in a huge, deep breath into his lungs. The twist of his other hand stroking himself down to the last few beats comes close to your face, your soft gasps for air the perfect background for your name to trickle out of Astarion's mouth–and with such a deep moan it rattles you through your blood down to your bones, you kneel and wait eagerly as your partner lets everything go for you. His balls tighten and squeeze as the pressure of that knot inside him snaps, and he watches with a devoted gleam in his eyes as you wear every rope of pearly cum he milks out for you in that orgasm that shakes him to the core.

"Look at that," He murmurs, voice nearly as wrecked and raspy as yours will be by tomorrow. "Painted like a canvas fit for the gods. Gorgeous."

If he could, he would save this image of you in a frame forever; your sweet, smiling face marred with the essence of him, your hair pulled back by his sweaty fingers but your eyes filled with so much love. Love, genuine and sincere, your giggles loopy and tired as you come down from the high, yet without any post-sex remorse that he fears each and every time you climb into his bed with him. It stays the same when he cleans you off and persists even once you kiss him, knees so wobbly you fall back into the sheets with the slightest push. You won't ever let him free, kiss after kiss pressed to his cold mouth as he climbs over you. Your ankles hook over his waist before he knows it, your smile desperate to be wiped off your face again once he chases that heat for the second, third, fourth, fifth, tenth time, until the sun rises and you're reminded of the downsides of entertaining a lover who never needs rest.

You might tell him you love him again when morning comes, despite the exhaustion tugging down your eyelids and the sweat pouring down your aching back. You probably will, knowing how naive and sincere you tend to be even when you shouldn't. Even so, this time…Astarion might not be able to pretend he doesn't feel exactly the same way.

#astarion #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #ellie writes #anons #3k

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 10 months ago

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The Song of Ice and Fire (DARK BOOKMOND X STARKREADER/OC)

Aemond (book) x Reader

🔷Summary: After getting kidnapped on your way to King's Landing, you end up in another time where you meet a dangerous prince.

🔷Author's note: Either hit or miss with this one

🔷Wordcount :6756

🔷Warnings: This is Bookmond because im a little too sad to write showaemond atm. Bookaemond is my deranged honeybee he can do nothing wrong. Ok almost nothing.

WARNINGS: Kidnapping, drugging, forced marriage and war crimes and aemond being a sexist little bitch. Also spankings.

Maybe it was for the best. You always dreamt of leaving the cold and quiet town of Winterfell behind. You dreamt of a bigger, exciting life. A life of tourneys, of exciting feasts, of noble men fighting for your hand. It should have been as simple as that.

Except it wasn’t.

Sansa, your sister is going to be the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Your father would be the hand of the king, one of the highest positions at court. You, Arya, and her will soon travel with him to King’s Landing.

Until something happened.

Something unexplainable.

And something terrible.

Lately, your dreams have been getting worse. From nightmares that you didn’t pay any mind to darker things, things you barely could keep to yourself. Nightmares and dreams filled with unexplainable things, unknown faces and the death rising and marching.

_____________

It is clear to you that your mind is simply toying with you. You are likely nervous for the future that awaits you. You are nervous for the suitors you’ll meet and that your life finally will begin. It will just be like all the romantic novels you read. It will be ball after ball and feast after feast.

Your dreams always start the same way. You are alone, surrounded by trees as big as towers, in the snowy woods. You hear the sound of the crispy snow as you set feet on it, moving in any direction, to find something. Home, you assume. The stars above your head are the only light to guide you, and it is unforgivably dark in the cold forest.

The cold winter winds pick up and toy with your hair, sending it in all directions. You never know why, but you always turn your head slightly sideways. You can’t control it. You don’t have a say. As a chestpiece moving over the board, you do as you are told by someone controlling you.

It is always a surprise to see the wall close by, no matter how many times you have dreamt this dream. The majestic tall, ancient structure that has been here long before you were born and will be there long after you have gone. Something about it tells you are not supposed to be here. You feel chills.

You had heard reasons why the wall was built. Wildlings, mostly. The Nightwatch was installed to guard the wall, to make sure no threat could climb over it. You know your brother, Jon, dreams of becoming a brave member of the Nightwatch. It is all the honor he will gain as a bastard anyway. You are the same as his twin sister. But your father kept your bastardy a secret.

But the most important reason why the wall was built was the threat of white walkers. Cold, icy and deadly soldiers of an army without needs and without a will, forced to march forever beyond the wall. And when you are all the way North, you can only go one way: South.

You knew it wasn’t true. You knew when your father told you about them, they weren’t real. But any Northern child grows up with the same tales. Creatures with eyes as blue as ice, that could freeze you in pure terror so they could easily squeeze your eyeballs out of your head, killing you. A fun tale in a tavern. But not in the castle.

You aren’t a foolish girl, no matter what the world tells you. You don’t believe those lies. You never did. You are not as brave as Arya perhaps or as pretty and polite as Sansa but you never believe in those ghost stories.

But here, in your dreams, beyond the wall and far away from your safe warm room at Winterfell, even someone as skeptical as you could understand why people believed those stories.

What would come next in your dreams was also always the same. You turn your head away from the wall. In the far distance, you can make out someone standing there, holding a lantern. The person is hooded, unrecognizable. But the person would always lift the lantern, and wave with it. Your eyes follow the movements, as the light of the lantern becomes brighter and brighter, shedding light over the forest, making the snow almost look like liquid gold.

It always seems so magical, as a scam shopkeepers tell their far too trusting clients before selling them magical rocks or potions. You know the hooded person never reveals themselves. You tried running at them, screaming, but you couldn’t move nor speak.

Then, you notice you are standing on something. A great lake, made of ice. Gone are the trees of the forest. Through the ice, you make out the skeleton of a human being. Someone from a long time ago. You watch the skeleton, wondering how long ago this person met their end, and how. And beneath the ice, poking halfway out of it, is a steel forged sword with a black handle. The tip of it is still in the ice, covered in a dark rusty coat of old blood. You notice your hands reach for the sword, picking it out of the ice.

The sword feels different than most swords. Lighter, better to wield. Safer. It feels like wielding one of your own arms. It feels safe, comfortable. Yours. Impossible. Ladies do not wield weapons. Not such obvious ones, at least. Ladies wield lies, poison, tricks, schemes.

You turn to the hooded figure, sword in hand, still standing on the ice, with the skeleton safely beneath your feet. The hooded figure is gone. As is the light. The world is once again covered in darkness. It is suffocating you, in a way.

Fear and anxiety fight inside of you, as you try to get off the ice. But you can’t move. Not anymore. It is not your body, anymore. You don’t have a say, anymore.

The sword is starting to hurt your inexperienced arms, and you try at all cost to drop the weapon. Your head snaps as you hear the sound of something you never heard before, but somehow you know exactly what it is. A dragon’s roar.

You never felt fear like that, as you look around the lake for any sign of a dragon. But instead you are met with a thin skeleton made of ice and rotting flesh that reaches out with their hands, trying to grab you. A white walker.

You scream.

But before he could grab you, drag you into the lake with him…

You wake up.

You sit straight up in your bed, clutching the sheets of your bed. Your heart is still beating and your fear hasn’t left your mind yet. You are glad to see you are in your rooms, at Winterfell. Several familiar stuffed animal toys glance back at you from their spots on high shelves, calming your troubled mind instantly. You are coming of age so put some of them away, but unlike Sansa, you could never throw them out.

You climb out of bed and prepare yourself for the exciting day ahead. The day your life will change forever. You just had no idea how much. And how terribly.

As always, Winterfell is busy. Servants go about their day, greeting you with nods or smiles as they carry in potatoes or walk around with freshly washed linen.

Your father and ‘’mother’’, brothers and sisters are already at the table, gathered for breakfast. They seem to have been waiting just for you. You greet them with a relieved smile. The food smells delicious and makes your stomach rumble in unladylike ways. You sit down on your chair and begin eating.

You can almost hear Lady Catalyn’s thoughts. Everyone seems to know it. This might be the final time you might all be together. This is goodbye, in a way. Jon will go to the wall, and you and your sisters to King’s Landing.

You grab an apple and begin biting down on it, while also making yourself a cup of nice honey tea. You can not wait to leave the boring North and the nightmares finally behind. The north is a boring and cold place. Nothing exciting ever happened. Your sister, Sansa, also looks more happy than usual. Normally, she is grumpy at this hour.

‘’Do we need to leave soon?’’ Arya mutters next to her, playing with a fork and a potato. Your parents share a look, and your father speaks to the youngest Lady of house Stark.

Even with their differences, their arguments and their fighting, you can see that Arya dreads the day that her and her would leave for the capital. She likely wants to remain here, in the cold North forever. Eddard speaks, smiling with pride and joy and you feel jealous of how easy Sansa will become the Queen. ‘’Sansa will be the Queen. I will become the hand of the King if all goes well. Perhaps you’ll like King’s Landing.’’ Arya’s brown eyes fill with worry at imaginary scenarios. She looks at her sister, who always was said to be prettiest and who always has focussed on how to be a lady. She imagined King’s Landing would be filled with Sansas.

‘’No, thank you.’’ she mutters. Yet she does not have a choice.

You begin eating the apple first. At that moment, Maester Luwin comes from the courtyard, bringing likely fresh news, plucked from a raven. He brings the news first to your parents, the Lord and Lady of Winterfell. ‘’Lady Lynantha is expected to be escorted to King’s Landing today. Her carriage is already here.’’ You drop your apple, distraught as all eyes are on you. ‘’Why aren't we traveling together?’’ You ask your father. He does not meet your eyes.

‘’I received a letter. A nobleman from King’s Landing, one of King Robert’s nephews, wishes to get to know you. It is of importance that you leave right away.’’ You know why. There are rumors you aren’t a true born Stark. That you are a bastard. Rumors that are likely true.

You understand. You are eager to leave, in a way. Lady Stark stands up from her seat. ‘’I wish you well, Lyantha.’’ You never liked her. She never liked you. But you do respect her. You nod, respectful as you make a final curtsy.

Luwin coughs, reminding you all that time is not on your side. You finally stand as well, excusing yourself as you mutter. ‘’I must pack for the journey-’’ You will need clothing, books, maybe jewelry.

‘’O, there is no need, truly.’’ An almost magical light voice rings out. A woman with raven dark hairs, a green gown with beautiful gold patterns stitched onto her skirt greets you with a curtsy. ‘’The Capital has everything you could need.’’ She assures you, a sweet but horrible hollow smile on her lips. The Lady makes a bow for her as well. ‘’I am Lady Alys Rivers. I have come to escort you to your Prince.’’ You know that Rivers is a last name used for bastards and commoners, and wonder silently how someone as Alys could have acquired such a position at the royal court. But you would never dare to voice that concern. Of course not. A prince, a title, it is almost too good to be true. ‘’A prince?’’ You ask, beaming with excitement. Sansa huffs, and you see Alys nod, almost a little too pleased with your excitement.

The woman smiles as if you two are long lost friends. ‘’A true born royal, a fierce skilled warrior and an intelligent man. Few are blessed in so many ways.’’ You are certain your smile only grows.

He sounds so charming.

So perfect.

So kind and gentle and gallant and strong.

‘’Very well.’’ You say. Your father is the first to hug you, whispering in your ear that you’ll always be a Stark, and his little girl. If you have trouble, you could write to him and he’d be there before you could blink with your eyes.

The Starks remain loyal and firmly rooted outside in the yard as the carriage slowly departs to the roads, leaving Winterfell behind. Such sorrow the Starks all share And such more sorrow they would share if they had known what would become of Lynantha.

–

The carriage is comfortable and to your liking. It is warm as a mother’s embrace and has soft pillows that make the long journey comfortable. You imagined you would stay at multiple ins down the King’s road. Lady Alys has been nothing but kind to you, offering you sweets and cake when the landscape and scenery outside of the window changed.

The lemon cakes you eat are heavy on your stomach, and soon you feel tired. Exhausted for some reason. It must be the weird nightmares that kept you up.

As a true future Princess, you try to stay awake in the carriage but the more she fight against the instinct to sleep, the more tired you become. Eventually, you fall asleep in the carriage.

This time you too dream of the strange sword, the strange lady with the Lantern and the wall. But you can hear a voice this time as well. ‘’Do not go to the wall! Return! You don’t know what you are unleashing!’’ You can not place the voice, and you assume it belongs to the lantern lady. But when you look at the normally covered lady, you see Alys instead, wearing the common cloak and dress, holding the same lantern. Her eyes are red and sinister, burning like hellfire and her smile spreads wider than it should.

Once again, you wake up panting and breathing heavily. Alys is still near you, calmly knitting. You had hoped if you left the North, the nightmares would end. ‘’Welcome back, my Princess.’’ Alys says as she finishes her knitwork. ‘’We are almost there. Just a bit longer.’’ And at that moment, you notice a familiar basket that is half covered with a blanket on the floor. You would recognize that basket everywhere. And to be in King’s Landing so fast….Something is wrong.

‘’You don’t work for the King do you?’’ You ask, your voice soft and trembling. ‘’You’re not taking me to King’s Landing.’’

Alys only smiles, putting her needles and knitting work away. ‘’Just sit tight. I need to bring you to him alive, he didn’t say in what state.’’ He? Who is he?

You have many more questions, but you are not stupid. That was a clear threat and an order to shut up and so you will.

The carriage finally approaches its final destination. And halts.

When you look outside, all you can see is darkness. And the ominous yet sparkling stars above the carriage. Just as in my dreams.

It feels much colder here. And that smell. The smell of iron and snow. Alys takes her time with putting her hood on, and as you had expected by now the hood had the same pattern as that of the Lantern lady. She smiles as she opens the door. You don’t know what she wants. But it can’t be good. And you are not coming with her.

You clings to the carriage instead, refusing to follow Alys. ‘’No! I’m not coming with you! Bring me back!’’ You demand.

Alys only chuckles and pulls harder, pulling you easily from the carriage as a flower being plucked. She puts you outside the carriage.

In the cold snow you take a good look at your surroundings, looking for any help or signs. And there it is. You turn around, as if you can already feel its presence. The looming tall wall of the North.

And you are clearly beyond it.

’Are you mad?!’’ you lash out at Alys. ‘’You have endangered us both! Who knows what’s out there.’’ Alys ignores you, shining her lantern around the ground, searching for something.

You rub your cold arms, regretting you didn’t bring a coat with you. The snow storm only grows worse and worse, as a storm unleashing upon a town.

You look back at the wall, before stumbling on something beneath your feet, buried in the cold snow. Just like in your dream. And just like in your dream it is the sword. For a moment, you think about picking it up and threatening Alys with it. You reach out to grab it. ‘’What did you find there?’’Alys’s voice rings out, closer to you than she was before. You try to pick the sword up, but Alys is faster. She has a strange smirk on her lips when you backed away from the now armed woman. ‘’Such a good girl, finding the sword. I’ll tell him that you found it.’’ There’s that ‘’him’’ again.

You become even more uncomfortable at her clearly condescending compliment, and for some reason she is more angry with you than before. Is it because you found the sword? And not her? ‘’Now come. He’s not known for his patience.’’ You look back at the Wall. Alys sighs, clearly annoyed. ‘’Or you can stay out here in the cold and freeze to death.’’ She adds, with a careless shrug. ‘’I don’t mind.’’ She is right. You know she is. And you hate her for it. You won’t survive out here on your own.

The two of you approach a lake that is somehow not frozen despite the cold. It is not the lake with the skeleton. You can tell. Red and green and black and yellow flowers grow around it too, and everything about it seems to confirm that this is nothing but just a dream. But you can’t wake up.

Alys grabs your arm, walking to the lake. You resist bravely but end up in the water regardless, yelping expecting cold, freezing water. But it does not feel cold. It does not feel warm. It does not feel anything, truly. It feels…soulless. Dead, in a way.

Alys and you approach the deeper part, where you can no longer stand. Before you can ask what is happening, she pushes you underwater. You gulp, as water fills your lungs, convinced you will die. You close your eyes and at the moment you have given up all hope, something beneath you seems to open, and you fall down.

—

Your body is drifting between both space and time for a while, until someone pulls you up by your hair, and out of the waters, back into the world of the living. You gasp for air, spitting out the water and cling to the ground, looking around you as you thank the gods you are alive.

You are still near a lake. Just not the one you nearly drowned in. You look at the skies, and it is day as well. How long have I been gone?

This lake has flowers in just green colors, and has ruined walls around it, likely belonging to a palace from a time long ago. You look around and notice your captor calmingly sitting next to you, making a crown out of flowers. She drops her crown the moment she sees you have awakened. You can only glare at her, too stunned for anything else.

You hiss at her, close to strangling her. She cackles. ‘’You’re finally awake. I was worried you didn’t survive our little magic trip.’’ You sit up, taking in more and more of your surroundings, the sun warming your wet clothing, as you look at the ruins of a castle and people passing you both.

You jump to your feet, ignoring your soaked clothing as you rush to a soldier. ‘’Hey, Hey! I need help! She abducted me!’’ You yell. The soldier takes one good look at you, before he sees Alys. Alys cracks her head sideways, causing bones to crack. That is all it takes for him to take off running.

You huff, in disbelief and anger. ‘’Craven!’’ You shout, as he rushes off. Next to you, Alys doubles over cackling once more. She finds this extremely funny, for some reason. She lays a hand on your arm, smiling at you.

You instantly shrug it off, disgusted. She doesn’t seem to even care, still smiling.

‘’Come. We are almost here.’’ She says. You can do two things. You can dive back into the lake, and likely drown, or you can come with this woman. Both aren’t smart things to do. Alys offers her hand again.

At that moment, you spot a nice, big rock, just a few steps away from you. Most people here don’t care for abuctuees. They won’t care for murder either, you think. No one would know. No one would judge. And no one would tell.

This woman is a threat to your safety. And so you grabbed the rock, and tried to get Alys on her back. The woman cackled again, much to your annoyance. You did manage to get her on her back, and raise the rock skyhigh, ready to deliver the deadly blow. Alys laughs, before spitting in your face. Disgusted and caught off guard, you drop the rock. ‘’It seems we need to watch ourselves around you.’’

‘’Come, we must not let him wait any longer.’’ There it is again.

You know you are going to regret going with Alys but you don’t have a say. Not anymore. ‘’Who is this him you speak of?’’ Perhaps the mysterious prince, her lover, or an enemy of Joffrey. It has to be.

Or, a Targaryen. You snort, in your head. The Targaryens had been defeated, like their dragons and their ancestors alike. They would not bother you or anyone else on the Westeros continent again.

‘’Your prince, of course.’’ There is something strange in her voice. Almost a scoff or an inside joke that you had yet to understand. However you perked up at hearing those words.

‘’The match my father arranged?’’ you ask. ‘’Is he here?’’ It couldn’t be. Could it? It would not explain the lake, the change of time, the wall, anything of it. But the thought that you soon would see your handsome prince again, gives you some hope.

Alys ignored you and did not confirm nor deny anything as the two of you walked to the castle gates. As you approach, you notice countless freshly dug graves. You gulp. You try to remember what castle this could possibly be.

And that’s when you see it. The ruins remind you of a more polished version of the castle of Harrenhall. The cursed castle and the castle where dragon fire still burns to this day. The walls look younger, time has not been as cruel as it has been now. The fire burns, as always.

The thing that scares you most, were the gates. Someone had put heads on the spikes, heads of people who all had their eyes wide open and full of terror of whatever killed them. A killer. A monster.

The smell makes you sick. And judging by their smell, they had been here quite a while. Alys doesn’t even bat a eye at the dead. But she did grab your right hand, dragging you inside of the castle.

The doors open the moment Alys approaches them, her head high as a true queen. You walk next to her, your thoughts spiraling.

You have just a moment to glance up at the banners decorating the outer walls. And you wish you hadn’t. An unfamiliar yet known sigil hangs there, proudly paraded by the wind and kept in place with pins. You would recognize the three headed dragon everywhere. The Targaryens. But how?

Yet this one looks different. Alys drags you in, the moment you finally draw the conclusion that this is the sigil of no other than King Aegon II. The gold and the green made that clear. But what are his banners doing here, nearly hundred years after his passing? Unless….

You already felt sick because of the dead outside the gate, and now you feel even worse as an irrational and terrible fear begins to form in your head. A fear so insane that it can’t be true, but how can you deny what is right in front of you? Have I truly….?

Alys drags you with her, into the castle halls and into the throne room. The door has no guards. You can hear someone playing with a blade, sharpening it. You feel shivers and cold, in your wet clothes.

Alys gives you a push in your back, sending you into the room on your own.

‘’I’ve brought you something.’’ She says, her smile barely containing her pride.

Whoever is there, they didn’t bother to open the curtains or to light candles. A truly terrifying conclusion.

You trip over your dress, and fall. You regained just enough balance to land on your knees, instead of flat on your face. You know whoever is waiting here, orchestrated this whole thing. And if your gut is right, you know who it is.

You laugh, quietly. You must be crazy, expecting an actual Targaryen prince to await you here. Stir crazy. But what other explanation is there? Why else bother with old banners, why else does the castle look better than it ever did in your time?

You glance up at the man sitting the throne, his legs calmly placed on the arms of the lavious throne he sits upon. He is indeed sharpening a catspaw dagger, and his lips have the faint impression of a smirk and a smile blended into one as he takes in your soaked clothing and angry glare. Alys opens some curtains.

And the moment you do see his face, it feels as a relief and a shock at once. Relief because you were right. But also a shock because how, how can you possibly be right?

You were treated as a silly little girl. You can only think of one reason why the banners were here, why the castle looked so good and why the dead were rotting above the gates. And this man’s face confirms it all.

In front of you, is no one else but Aemond Targaryen ‘’one eye’’ the Kinslayer of House Targaryen. You know him from the history books you have read. But those books barely mention him. Aside from his death and his atrocities at Harrenhal.

And yet, here he stands. In front of you, alive and well. He is a true Targaryen with sharp classic Valyrian features like piercing eyes, and very light, almost silver coloured hair.

He finally stopped sharpening his dagger, curiosity written all over his face as he takes you in, sitting on the floor, at his feet and glaring at him. He can’t help but smirk.

You glare. Whatever it was that is going on, it is all his doing. You can tell. And that prince Alys promised you would meet, that is him. A cruel joke on her behalf. You glare at her too. She simply makes another curtsy cackling once again.

Slowly, a smile creeps on his lips, amused by the audacity. ‘’I take it she was a smart lass and obeyed?’’ The question is aimed at Alys and you physically feel your stomach turn even worse by his words.

You had not been a ‘’smart lass’’. If anything, you had acted insanely dumb. You resisted, you tried to kill Alys. You tried to run. You tried to resist in every way possible and more.

You cross your arms, tired. Alys beams as she tells Aemond what has happened between the two of you, happy to see you punished by her Prince. ‘’She tried to kill me with a rock.’’

His face tilts, and although he tries to appear uninterested and cold, even a simple man could read the anger and murderous emotions in his eye. ‘’I will see to that she’s punished for that.’’ He promises his loyal servant. To that, Alys smiles.

Aemond smiles at you, in a condescending way. You glance between him and Alys, aware you are in trouble now. ‘’I am not yours to punish.’’ He is not your husband, nor your king or father. No one should decide what happens to you but you. Your voice doesn’t sound scared or angry. Just annoyed.

Aemond shifts his legs, angry at your carelessness and casual behaviour. He slams his hands on the arms of the throne, causing you to flince briefly. He stands up, and you finally see just how tall he truly is. And how fast he stands in front of you. He sinks to his knees, the green leather cracking. He clearly enjoys the way you flinch as he reaches out to touch your chin and your cheeks, feeling your soft delicate skin beneath his fingers. He finally bothers to address you. ‘’Of course you are, Little Wolfling. If you touch and damage something that is mine, you will be punished.’’ He reveals.

You understand finally that Alys is more than just his servant. They have a relationship. He loves her. And you tried to kill her. You must try to talk your way out of this. ‘’Your lady did not explain why I was taken from my home and lied to.’’ You hope he becomes more understanding of how terrifying all of this is for you.

Alys snorts and Aemond laughs. You curse quietly in your head. That was a failed attempt. ‘’As I ordered her. Alys obeys well and listens. You can learn a thing or two from her.’’ He tells you, finally getting up from the ground.

Somehow, that makes you angry. The idea that he now thinks you will help him as some spineless pet and roll over for him when he wishes so, it makes you so furious that you are close to pulling him back by his eyepatch to slam his head against the stone floor. You do not have the sword anymore.

You only have your clothes.

And …

Oh.

You patiently wait until his back is turned to your front, before sliding your shoe off and aiming at his head. You throw the shoe as hard as possible and it ends up hitting him perfectly on his head.

Confused, he turns around, looking for who dared to have hit him. When he notices you, smirking very proudly and missing one shoe, something changes. And you regret even blinking in his direction.

Prince Aemond storms back to you, as you can barely back away to escape him. He is faster and steps on your dress, trapping you easily. You feel the walls closing in and are truly in danger now. The Prince grabs you by your waist, lifting you to your feet and drags you to the throne. You try to break free of his grip, protesting. ‘’Let go of me!” You turn your head to look at Alys. Surely she has a say in this. But she only smiles.

Aemond let out a low chuckle as he sits down the throne, your body still in his grasp. He places you on his lap, as some disobedient little girl. He whispers in your ear, and your cheeks burn with shame. ‘’You laughed. Now it is my turn to laugh, Little Wolfling.’’ You let out an offended cry, struggling to get away from him as fast as possible.

He chuckles. ‘’I am not sure what they teach you in the North, but here, we are respectful to our princes.’’ He says, lecturing you. His cold hands feel the back of your dress, feeling the warm skin that it covered.

Until that moment, you had never been touched before. Instead of doing what you feared he would do, he picked out a different punishment. He does lift your skirts, but barely enough to touch you. Just to reach your small clothes but mostly your behind. And at that moment you know what he is planning. And you don’t want that. You try to escape again, kicking and slapping him.

Aemond grabs your hands, grinning. ‘’Calm down, Little Wolfling. It’s just a spanking. I’m sure you had plenty before.’’ Never.

Your parents did not believe that that was a healthy idea. ‘’No! Never!”’ You declare, angry. ‘’And you are not my father or my husband. You aren’t allowed to punish me.’’ You say, bravely.

He only scoffs, and his hand lands the first hard blow on your behind, causing you to cry out in pain. You squirm over his legs, fighting stronger and harder. He increases his grip, tightening it. ‘’Tis for the best you learn now, Little Wolfling. I don’t have time and the patience to do this every day.’’

The blows only increase, hurting your delicate skin. You did try to keep from crying and from complaining. You wouldn’t grand him that satisfaction. Not anymore.

It is true that you were disciplined in this way, yet your body betrayes you in the worst way imaginable.

You do not notice your arousal until it is too late. Your nipples are hardened and there is a wetness between your legs, growing.

You stop fighting. Perhaps in shock of your own betrayal, perhaps only to show the prince that he could stop what he was doing to you. Finally, he stops. But not before your behind is burning and a painful mess.

He helps correct your dress and covers you apprioartly as if nothing has happened. You are still in shock, and don’t move away from him at first. ‘’I hope I made myself clear to you both. You both will play nice to one another.’’ He tells both you and his lover.

Alys bristles. ‘’I am not the one picking up rocks and killing people.’’ But this time, Aemond has enough of her complaints.

He did all he could. ‘’The Wolf has been disciplined. I am sure my Little Wolfling will behave much better in the future.’’ You are forced to sit on his lap, as a prize he had won.

‘’Won’t you, Little Wolfling?’’ He whispers. He does not kiss you, but his lips come closer to your cheeks, and unwillingly you feel your cheeks burn bright as stars. He chuckles, amused. ‘’You can go now, Little Wolfling.’’ You almost look offended when he sends you away.

This madness needs to stop. ‘’I,’’ You catched your breath. ‘’I don’t understand a few things.’’ You say. You want the truth. Now. Before you offend him again somehow.

Aemond rolls his good eye, smirking. ‘’You are a woman. I imagine that happens to you a lot.’’ Even Alys glares at that comment but his royal highness does not see it.

You only blink, ignoring him. ‘’You are alive.’’ You say, cutting straight to the case. ‘’You were killed in a battle.’’ You don’t remember who killed him or with what or where but you are certain Aemond Targaryen died.

Aemond’s head perks up, listening eagerly to what you tell him. You can tell he is not listening, but he is eager. ‘’What am I doing here? Am I here to save the dragons?’’ You ask. ‘’Or to stop the civil war?’’ Not that you would even know how in the seven hells to do that, but that's another thing entirely.

That causes the head of the prince to snap to Alys, worry written across his face for the first time that you met him. Alys only makes a gesture with her head, and Aemond seems to calm down. He smirks, carelessly. ‘’Oh, don’t worry about the Dragons.’’ You never heard any Targaryen say that.

The dragons are their wolves. Their dragons are their war winners. You laugh, offended and still hurt. ‘’But, without dragons, I am sorry to tell you, your entire family will become ash and dust.’’ You even chuckle.

Aemond stands back up from the throne, raising his sword and pointing it at you, lashing out. ‘’You are a bold little girl, are you not? Perhaps my hand was too gentle.’’

You don’t even back down anymore. ‘’It’s the truth. Where I’m from, house Targaryen is dust. All thanks to you, your sister and your brother. Together, you caused the civil war and killed the dragons-’’ That is pushing it too far.

Aemond grabs you by your throat, choking you lightly to warm you of not accusing him of another thing. ‘’Silence.’’ He barks.

You obey, glaring. ‘’Good girl.’’ he smirks, mockingly. ‘’Now, I understand, you must be so excited to see a dragon, hmm? You can’t shut up about them.’’ He stops choking you, feeling your neck.‘’I suppose, there is truth in what you tell me. The dragons are long gone where you are from. But you are now here, with me.’’

‘’The story is written.’’ You say.

Aemond snorts, and there is something dangerous about his body language. ‘’The story is just beginning.’’

You have a terrible feeling. ‘’You see,’’ Aemond grabs hold of your left hand. ‘’I have some inside knowledge. You know how this will end. You will tell me how the dragons died out, and I will simply be always one step ahead of my enemy. I will be their worst nightmare, their downfall and the dagger that slashes their throat.’’ He grins, as you become truly terrified and even tremble.

‘’How will you stop your sister?’’ You whisper. But you fear you already saw it in your dream. ‘’How will you stop Queen Rhaenyra’s marching troops?’’ Your voice is a soft weak whisper.

Aemond leans in, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead. ‘’I heard a prophecy. The song of ice and fire. That is where you come in. You can help me find something, something very precious.’’ He chuckles.

The sword.

He wants to find the sword.

But why.

Unless…

‘’No.’’ You instantly say. ‘’You can’t.’’ You turn your head to Alys, watching her blank expression. She is fine with this. You watch as Aemond smirks in silence, confirming to you that he is planning to do the impossible. ‘’Aemond, you can’t.’’ You repeat.

Aemond’s grip only tightens. ‘’Think about it, little Wolfling. An army that never rests, never eats, never betrays me. An army that will help me conquer Westeros; An army of White Walkers. It is perfect.’’ He is insane.

‘’I won’t help you.’’ You remind him. ‘’You might as well send me back.’’

He ignores your protests. You can see his smirk and grin only grow, and you are reminded of Targaryens and their insanity. Their fire. Their blood. ‘’You will help me, little Wolfling. You will. Because if you do not, you will never see your family again. I have the means to send you back. And I will. After you have helped me.’’

You scoff, so you must help him do gods knows what so he can send you back to your own time? ‘’It doesn’t sound like I have a choice, do I?’’ Alys shakes her head. ‘’What will I need to do?’’ You ask Aemond, your head hanging in shame. How many will die because of you?

He lifts your chin, grinning. ‘’Now, now, don’t be so sad. To begin things, we must find the sword. And I want more information on how to better keep the dragons too.’’

You cannot do that. ‘’Dragons died centuries before I was born!’’ You don’t know anything about dragons. ‘’I don’t even know what they eat.’’ You almost whine.

‘’Meat. They eat meat.’’ Aemond says. ‘’Vhagar is right here with me. I will teach you about dragons, you will teach me what you know of the Dance and how it ended.’’ This all sounds like a horrible idea to you. ‘’And when the time comes, we must complete the prophecy of Ice and Fire.’’ That sounds vague.

But you want to see your family again. More than anything. So you hold out your hand, and wait for Aemond to shake it. He smiles, kissing it instead. He leans a little closer. ‘’I can’t wait until we are married. I always wanted a Valyrian wife, but you’ll do.’’ You laugh, thinking he is jesting. Until you see how Aemond is looking at you. Like you are some delicious cake he can’t wait to taste. He mirrors your smile, allowing you to be in denial as he makes his way to his lover, kissing her openly on her lips. You watch speechlessly as the two of them walk away, their chuckles and giggles mixing as they likely picture their new world together, with them for once atop of it, instead below.

You throw your head into your neck and try to process it all. What in the seven hells did you even become part of?

a/n

Ooh, i wasnt sure i even wanted to share this one.

But here he is xDDDD

Ok bye

let me know what you think

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