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yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago

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Title: Meat.

Pairing: Yandere!Ayato x Reader (Genshin).

Word count: 4.5k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Branding/Burning, Prolonged Imprisonment, Forced Marriage, Possessive Behavior, Descriptions of Gore, Implied Stalking, Mentions of Pregnancy, and Suicidal Ideation. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You always thought you would wear red on your wedding day.

It was a family tradition – passed down with dutiful care for as long as anyone could imagine. Your grandmother had given her dress to your mother who had gifted it to you, her only child, on your eighteenth birthday, years before you would so much as think about getting something as permanent as marriage. Still, you safeguarded it with a religious devotion, never going more than a week without laying it out to check for signs of moths or mold. When you found yourself on a boat set on a course for Inazuma and could bring nothing but what could fit in the space underneath your bunk, her dress was the only item you truly could not bear to leave behind.

It was one of the few things Ayato let you keep, when he first brought you to his estate. He hadn’t wanted to, but he’d known that you’d throw yourself off the nearest cliff if anything ever happened to that dress. You still would, if he so much as touched it without your permission.

The kimono you were being fitted for now was not red. The fine silk was pure white, the detailed embroidery along the hems and sleeves dark blue and bright, shining gold. The symbol of his archon glowed violet on the swell of the train – meant to appease the other factions of the tri-commission who protested when Ayato announced his intent to not only marry a commoner, but a foreigner. You hated that embellishment most of all, more than the sickly way his colors crawled over your body, more than the irritating smoothness of his favored silks where they hugged against your form and groped at your skin. It marked you as a tool, something to be used to one end or another. It marked you as a sacrifice – and an unwanted one, at that.

“Just as exquisite as I knew you’d be,” Ayato announced, his voice strong and unabashed. You’d begged him not to, but he’d insisted on sitting in on your appointment, making sure you couldn’t correct seamstress or overrule any of the choices he’d made on your behalf. The tailor hummed as she fastened a temporary sash around your midriff, tight enough to press uncomfortably against your ribs. If you needed to cry on your wedding day (which, in all likelihood, you would), it would have to be loosened. “How do you like it?”

You hated it. You despised it. You wanted to claw it apart with your own pristine nails, separate each thread and seam with your very own teeth. You would’ve set yourself on fire just to see it turned to ash that much sooner.

“It’s perfect.” Your own voice sounded distant, distorted. There was no façade of sincerity. He knew as well as you did that there was nothing he could force onto you that you wouldn’t loathe, and you knew that any word uttered as to your hatred for him outside of the privacy of your shared bedroom would result in a collection of fresh rope burns to decorate your wrists, the better half of a night spent bent over his knee. “So long as it pleases you, my lord.”

You dropped your eyes to the floor, attempting to spare yourself what suffering you could, but your resistance didn’t matter; you could hear the sharpness of his smile, picture the way his head tilted to the side as he basked in his own self-satisfaction as he went on, addressing the tailor. “If there’s a veil, you can get rid of it.”

You didn’t think you would ever get used to the way his voice seemed to grate when he was happy with himself.

“I think my heart might give out if I’m not able to see my beautiful fiancé’s lovely smile.”

After meeting Ayato, you began to dream in red.

It was more of a pink, at first – during the first few weeks of his courtship, when the extent of his intrusive affection was a few dendrobiums left on your doorstep and a lingering glance as the handsome young commissioner passed your stall during his weekly stroll through the city market. For a short while, after his possessive habits began to rear their head and you were able to catch his guards in your peripheral more often than not, your subconscious was tinted a near-violent shade of scarlet, the kind that would leave you drenched in your own sweat and half-suffocated by the time you forced yourself to wake up. Recently, since he announced your engagement, they’d taken on a darker shade; choking velvets and deep crimsons blurring the distorted setting as Ayato’s faceless body moved on top of you, as his mouth unhinged and his lashing tongue dragged you down his waiting throat. On your worst nights, he’d tear you apart with his hands, first, divide you into neat, orderly pieces that he could slip past his lips and savor one at a time, one after another, until there was nothing left of you. He’d always preferred you in your most consumable form.

It was ironic, really, considering just how little red he let seep into your waking life. Maybe you had a deficiency; like a pregnant woman craving fish to make up for a lack of calcium. The closest you got to red from the doorway to his study were a few cherry blossoms fluttering past the window, their color dulled by age and their tree nearly stripped bare by the approaching winter. He looked away from his paperwork as you shrugged past the screen door, his pale eyes lighting up as he saw the tea tray in your hands. It was Thoma’s handiwork, but you doubted Ayato cared. He wanted to see you in the role of a caretaker, playing out the part he wrote for you to the best of your limited acting skills. What happened behind the curtain was none of his concern.

“To what do I owe the honor?” he asked as you set the tray on his desk. “I can’t remember the last time you visited me on your own.”

You flashed him a small smile. “Can’t I dote on my soon-to-be husband freely?”

He visibly straightened at the word ‘husband’, a familiar zeal infecting his expression. There was a quirk to his grin, a light tap to his thigh, and the tea went ignored as you obediently fell into his lap, your legs hanging over the side of his chair as his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you snug against him. If he was a monster, he’d be one with a thousand hands and a million fingers; he couldn’t seem to go a full minute without clutching at your hips, groping at your chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a deep, relieved sigh. “Husband,” he repeated back to you, all spellbound awe and deceiving wonder. “Archons, I can’t wait to be your husband.”

You wondered, sometimes, if it was his childhood that made him the way he was. After so many years of loneliness, so many tiny disappointments and frigid betrayals, you could only imagine he’d be eager to grab the first warm body he could and refuse to let you go. But, he let Ayaka come and go as she pleased, and seemed to take a certain delight in sending Thoma off on long-winded, far-flung errands. Whatever cruelty his upbringing had bred, it was clearly reserved for you.

His hand slid underneath the slit of your yukata, his breath turning hot and unpleasant against your collarbone, and you drew back with an airy laugh. “I do have an ulterior motive,” you admitted, hoping his curiosity would offset his insatiability, if only for a few seconds. “It’s about my wedding dress.”

“The breathtaking and priceless dress I’m having made by the nation’s most talented tailors so that all of Inazuma will know that I’m marrying the most beautiful person in Teyvat?” He raised his head, clicking his tongue. “What about it?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” you said, because he wouldn’t listen to you if you didn’t and you needed him to listen to you. “It’s just— I’m such a long way from home, and I know my family won’t be able to come, but—” You cut yourself off, swallowing back the bile that threatened to spoil your sweet smile. “I was hoping we’d be able to incorporate my mother’s dress, somehow. If it’s not too late.”

It wasn’t. You’d been tracking the progress of his tailors meticulously, counting down the days until your wedding like a prisoner waiting for their execution date, and if it was one of his whims, another row of bedding added onto the sleeves or a new embroidery pattern worked onto the train, you knew that there’d be all the time in the world to make any adjustments he asked for. Still, his smile wavered, a brief sigh slipping past his lips as he shook his head. “My love,” The petname lulled off of his tongue as if it’d been coated in sugar and syrup and all the worst things you could think of. “That’s quite the risk to take. The poor thing’s so old, it might fall apart as soon as the tailor’s needle touches it.”

He'd been crueler, before – called the dress a rag as he looked at you with disdain-tinted pity, swore that your reliance on the filthy relic must’ve been caused by some inherent failure of your homeland – but your heart still clenched just a little tighter in your chest at his veiled disdain. “I’d like to try, at least.” Your hands curled around his collar, your frown taking on a more pleading note. “Please, my lord?” A pause, a tightened hold. “Please, Ayato?”

It was his given name, loving and tender and so rarely spoken in your voice, that did him in. He relented with an airy groan, letting his head roll forward in faux exasperation. “We’ll see.”

You beamed, but he was too lost in you to notice, already preoccupied with pressing open-mouthed kisses into your shoulders, your neck. The sash of your yukata was drawn loose, your sleeves pulled down to your elbows and your body shifted onto his desk, where he could spread your legs apart and bury his face between them. Your eyes drifted back to the cherry blossoms trickling past the window, but whatever tree they’d been falling from had finally been stripped bare. All you could see was the bright, cloudless sky – blue enough to leave you burnt and begging for a storm.

Two springs ago, the Kamisato Estate had been overrun with finches.

It’d been a comedy of errors, in hindsight. Ayaka had taken up a fondness for a new kind of flower – one native to Sumeru, introduced to her by an outlander with golden hair and knowing eyes. Thoma, the miracle worker that he was, quickly found a way to propagate it in the estate’s garden, and within the month, little violet blossoms had consumed all that they could reach despite the best efforts of the gardeners to keep them in-check. It would’ve been a delightful problem to have on its own, but the peak of the infestation happened to align with an annual migration of a type of finch that happened to hold a particular shining for a plant with a similar shape and color and— well, anyone could’ve guessed what happened next.

It was a nightmare for Thoma and the other groundskeepers and, since Ayato was staying in the city on business, paradise for you. You spent your days in the courtyard, showing the servants’ children how to braid crowns out of vines and press flowers between the pages of books stolen from Ayato’s personal library. You and Ayaka fed seeds to the red-crowned invaders and coaxed them close enough to pet and sketch, as little talent as you had for the latter, and she listened as you rambled excitedly about the crane-headed whistles you used to make every summer for a very wealthy ornithologist with very slippery fingers. She was just as lonely as her brother, albeit significantly less deranged, and you – trapped, isolated, desperate you – were the perfect victim for her. The two of you were never quite friends, but you came close that spring.

And then, Ayato returned. The flowers were uprooted, the children sent back to their chores, and the finches driven away with nets and stones and salt. You sobbed for hours the day the final flock left, and by means of consolation, Ayato presented you with a blue-speckled wren in a cage of pure silver, silk flowers bound to the bars with yellow ribbons as a reminder of your lost haven. To this day, you still aren’t sure if he meant it to be as cruel of a gift as it was.

You made it all of two days before risking another month spent shackled to Ayato’s bed and sneaking past the guards posted at the estate’s frontmost gates, the golden cage tucked against your chest. You released it in the woods, somewhere with plenty of tree cover and places to hide while it remembered how to be a wild creature, and watched with a smile as it fluttered past the cage’s door and into the open air, eventually landing on the leaf-littered ground.

It hopped all of three tiny steps before a fox emerged from the underbrush and swallowed it whole.

“Are you still with us, love?”

You should’ve gone limp. You should’ve acted as if the pain had gotten to you. You should’ve pretended you were dead to the world and that you couldn’t feel his cock languidly thrusting into you and that you’d gone numb to the searing iron slowly cooling into against the small of your back but, for as resentful as your mind was to him, your body was entirely subservient to Ayato. You tried to respond verbally, and when your voice caught in your throat, you forced yourself to nod, the motion small and shaky. Ayato rewarded you with a breathy chuckle, a fleeting touch to the curve of your spine. A hundred pinpricks of purified agony accompanied his touch.

The silver brand had been commissioned from the finest metal crafters in Inazuma City, made to resemble the warped camellia that was the Kamisato Clan’s crest, and you let out an agonized scream as Ayato drew it back and pressed a calloused thumb into the tender patch of burnt skin. “You always do make such pretty noises for me.” He circled the shape of the white-hot bloom, drawing out another ragged whimper. “It’s a shame I only get to hear them when you misbehave.”

You wanted to apologize, to beg for his forgiveness, but try as you might, you couldn’t seem to remember what you’d done wrong. You hadn’t tried to run away. You hadn’t talked to any of the servants. You hadn’t done anything aside from smile and sit beside him as he spoke with the head of another clan – an older man whose eyes burnt into you for the entirety of their brief conversation. As far as you could tell, he was just a particularly shameless nobleman trying to decipher the curiosity that was the Yashiro Commissioner’s reclusive bride, but Ayato hated letting other men gawk at you at the best of times. Such prolonged exposure would’ve surely brought out the worst of his possessive habits.

You felt something tighten in your chest, catch in your throat, but you only realized you were crying when Ayato’s lips ghosted over your cheek, the gentleness of the gesture quickly replaced with the brutality of his fingers tangled in your hair, your head forced down and into the plush of his bed. You body threatened to collapse, but his free hand fell to your hip, keeping your back arched and your ass raised as he ground lazily into your cunt, in no rush to put you out of your suffering. “I think,” he groaned, lust heavy in his voice. “We’re going to have a big family. Half a dozen kids, at least.”

You beat your fists against the mattress, shaking your head violently, and he twitched inside of you. “They’ll have your eyes,” he went on, a sadistic delight in his voice. “And my swordsmanship, and I’ll love them as much as I love you.” He paused, the head of his cock scraping against something deep and vulnerable inside of you. “Well, almost as much as I love you. As much as I can.”

You tried to struggle, to get away from him, but Ayato held you close, his grip as unrelenting as his slow, aching tempo. With a calculated sort of grace, he leaned towards you, slotting his chest against your back and bringing his mouth to the shell of your ear. “You don’t think it’s too soon to start, do you, darling?”

All you could do was try and fail to scream in response.

The first gift Ayato ever gave to you was a necklace the color of freshly split sapphires.

He insisted that you not think of it as a present, that you consider it little more than justified repayment for an item from your stall broken by the clumsy fingers of one of his couriers, but it was a present, it couldn’t be anything else. His courier had paid for the ruined pottery days prior, and yet, he’d sought you out in person to apologize with that sun-bright smile, to let his fingertips brush against yours as he passed you a satin-lined case with a perfect, ocean-blue velvet choker tucked safely inside. It was a beautiful thing, embellished with silver and dripping with transparent crystals, but you’d liked the color most of all. It’d reminded you of Ayato, and there’d been a time when you treasured any excuse to think of him.

You’d worn it the first time you saw each other properly, too. The occasion wasn’t formal enough to warrant something so needlessly extravagant, but you couldn’t seem to stop smiling for the entirety of your brief-meal-turned-seven-hour-conversation, and as your night came to an end, perched on the edge of a cliff underneath the Raiden Shogun’s palace and breathless from laughing, he told you that if you weren’t careful, he might just fall in love with you. You’d told him that, if he waited a few more days, you might fall in love with him, too.

You’d been wearing the same necklace when he broke your heart for the first time. It’d been an overcast day, the sky a clouded blueish grey and the shogun’s fury just barely audible in the far distance. He told you, with that perfect grin and those lonely eyes, that it really was terribly improper for the lover of a commissioner to run some meager stall in a sweat-soaked market, that he owed you better than a cramped room on the outskirts of the city where you had to wade through hours of farmland to reach anything of importance. When you said that you enjoyed your work, that you adored the back-breaking labor of your craft and loved having neighbors who would leave baskets of cabbage and lavender melon on your doorstep in exchange for misshapen cups and off-pattern bowls, he laughed as if you’d said the funniest thing in the world and cupped your face in his hands, pulling you into a kiss deep enough and sweet enough to make you forget whether or not you’d agreed with him.

You were brought to the Kamisato estate less than a full month later and had yet to leave since.

The final garment was delivered two weeks before your wedding day. You watched from your pavilion as Ayato met the courier at the estate’s gates, accepting a large package wrapped in scarlet silk and brushing off the guards’ attempts to carry it on his behalf. You were embroidering, that day – a delicate, time-consuming art that Ayato praised in comparison to the messy, unpredictable medium of clay. You loathed the monotony of it, the strictness of the patterns, but it meant Ayato was less likely to break your fingers when he found you scrounging away spare mora in the hopes of some perpetually eventual escape and so, you embroidered.

“My mother’s dress,” you said, as soon as he was close enough to hear you. The wooden hoop was forgotten in your lap as you stared up at him, hope written clearly across your expression. “Do you know what they did with it?”

His grin widened. “Eager, are we?” You nodded frantically, and he added, “If I’d didn’t know better, I’d say you care about a dress more than your own betrothed.”

He settled next to you, the package laid across his thighs. He moved to unwrap it, then pivoted – his attention shifting as his gloved hand took hold of your wrist. He’d been touching you more delicately, lately, something you couldn’t help but link with his long-brewing but only recently materialized desire for children. It was a problem you elected to deal with later on, after the wedding, if only for your own inability to process just how horrific of a problem it was.

(There was a part of you which knew, even before your conscious mind could bear to accept it, that you would never be able to love something he put inside of you. Ayato’s obsession was enduring, able to feed off of nothing and contort reality to suit its needs, but your love had always been a rational thing, bound to end the moment it became inconvenient to house. Your love for your homeland died with your mother. Your love for Ayato died with your abduction. And, whatever love you could’ve had for a child— no, a shackle would die the moment the foul creature was born. You could hold no affection for a child that was made in Ayato’s image, that would be cleaved from your flesh for the sake of his happiness, and if by some miracle you did love the monstrosity, then you could only assume it would be because you’d abandoned all hope for yourself. Both futures seemed equally grim.)

“Ayato,” you simpered, leaning against his side. “Please?”

He rolled his eyes, playing soft as he handed you the oversized package. “It should be wrapped separately. I said I didn’t want to see the finished product until the day-of.”

Your hands shook as you undid the many knots. A smaller bundle sat within, separate from the tumor of ivory fabric you forced yourself not to linger on, and you took it up with a desperate sort of keenness, practically trembling as you tore it open with no regard for the integrity of its packaging. The crimson silk was torn away to reveal—

Blue.

Dark, never-ending blue.

“The color came out so beautifully. I’m glad you protested the way you did – otherwise, I might’ve never known we were missing something on our wedding day.” This time, you didn’t fight as he tore the remains of your mother’s dress out of your hands, holding out a sash the shade of apathetic night. You searched for something familiar, for something you could use to ground yourself, but it was absent of all recognizability, desecrated to the point of being all-but alien to you. “It had to be dyed, of course, but I’ve been told the process only cost it a moment of its integrity. The tailors—”

You blinked, but your vision remained black when you opened your eyes. Your body was lurching forward, and then you were in Ayato’s arms, limp and buzzing. Ayato was laughing, as shocked as you were drained, and you made no effort to pull away from him. “My poor little wife. I know – the anticipation’s almost too much to bear.” He pressed a kiss into your forehead. “Why don’t we spend some time together, like we used to? I think I can push my obligations aside for the day, considering the occasion.”

You didn’t respond, but he gathered into his arms regardless. He had always seemed to prefer you as dead weight.

You did end up in red on your wedding day, but you doubted you’d be getting married, anymore.

His own sword slid and out of his back with a wet, gripping noise – only interrupted when the blade slipped in your hands and hit bone rather than viscera. Blood splattered against the white of your kimono with every plunge, staining the susceptible fabric easily and leaving you struggling to keep your feet underneath you as the puddle of scarlet grew deeper, as the screen walls began to drip and your lungs filled with copper and iron. Ayato, the ever-worried lover that he was, had come to check on you before the ceremony, fussing over your blank eyes and the tear-tracks that had ruined your make-up twice, by then. He’d been concerned, but giddy, unable to keep himself away from you despite his many promises of tradition and decor.

He'd made it three, maybe four minutes before beginning to toy with the clasps running down your chest.

You’d taken up the first thing you saw – a hand mirror gilded with shining rose gold – and brought it down on his head.

That, on its own, would’ve left him with a scar and little else, but you’d worked quickly, drawing the sword from its sheath on his belt and bringing it down into anything that seemed vital, anything you could reach, anything that bled calming, soothing red. He stopped moving on the fifth strike, his uncalled upon Vision going dull on the sixth, and on the seventh, you heard someone call for the guards.

You waited until you could hear their footsteps before falling to your knees, bringing the point of your blade to your stomach and clenching your eyes shut, praying to any archon who would listen that you’d hit something they couldn’t be healed, that they’d lend you a more merciful fate than another jail cell, another lifetime of entrapment. You plunged the blade into your stomach and—

And were met with little more than a cold, blunt sensation and a bottomless pit of despair.

You opened your eyes, your gaze flickering from your ice-coated blade to the doorway of your dressing room, now occupied by Kamisato Ayaka, one hand raised and her Vision pulsing at her side. Guards rushed in on either side of her, grabbing at your shoulders and wrists, but your stare never left Ayaka, her parted lips, her flushed cheeks.

Her bright eyes, just as blue and just as lonely as her brother’s had ever been.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere kamisato ayato #yandere ayato #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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xoxochb · 17 days ago

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heeeey I absolute love your fluffy aftercare w leo valdez would you please made something like that but with my pretty boy percy ?

— short n sweet ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

★ - warnings: SMUT, fluff at the end pairing: percy jackson x fem! reader a/n: was listening to short n sweet when I wrote this so I thought the title/theme was appropriate

you can’t breath, you can’t focus, you can’t think, you can’t do jack shit. there’s barely any time to react before percy is placing his mouth over your core, taking you in instantly, eliciting a guttural moan from you. what you wanted to do instead was beg him to take more of you, plead please please please!! until he finally does (though you’re sure it won’t take much convincing anyways). he’s so warm, too warm, eagerly licking over you as you give your best attempt to even take in a breath (is this how you’re going to die??), they come out in more so pants, like you had been trapped in an enclosed space for hours, though the only thing enclosed was your airway

percy doesn’t seem to care one bit, finding great joy in your disoriented state, your squirming and moans as you grind down on his face. he ushers you to continue as he works you quicker, nearly sending you over an edge. your head is clouded, you feel lightheaded, stuck in a euphoric state. and you’re sure he knows he’s doing this to you too, that’s the worst part. you’re so close, just at the very tip, that small space between the cliff and air, the tiniest pinch away. percy doesn’t stop for a moment, savoring the way your legs shake and the soft noises only he gets to elicit from you

he additionally doesn’t seem to put himself on pause when you reach a pleasurable climax, loudly moaning his name. he doesn’t waste another second before removing himself from inside of you and transferring his lips to yours feverishly, making you gasp at the swift contact, he kisses you once and twice, grinding himself against you roughly, resting his forehead on yours. you so wish you didn’t want more because you didn’t know how much you could handle. you flip him over, now you straddle him, and now percy is the one whining and pleading. he attempts to grab your hips but you slap his hand away

“not yet” you pant, giving a particularly hard press into him, making him moan your name. the feeling of him filling you up pushes you over a second edge, as if the first hasn’t been that long of a fall. you curl your nails into his biceps as you let out a strangled cry. that had been your ending climax. slowly, you slide yourself off of him and to the side, your chest rising and falling as you attempt to regain yourself. you pull the sheets— mostly falling off the bed— over yourself, cuddling into percy who equally struggles to breathe. he traces lazy circles on the bare skin of your back

“does this mean I get my hoodie back?” he rasps. you furrow your brows and look up at him

“what? no”

“fair enough” he kisses the top of your head

then, the room resorts to a comfortable silence until percy speaks again, “are you okay?”

you nod. “perfect”

#xoxochb #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo fandom #percy jackson #pjo #percy series #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x fem!reader #riordan universe #riordanverse x reader

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dumbkiri · 2 months ago

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𝕯𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖄𝖔𝖚 3

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Please follow part 3 of Helaena!! AI love the character so much and I find almost nothing of her, the reader and Balerion have me ecstatic too!! You make art! Thank you for your attention :(

Yes! Please have Rhaenys and [Name] kill Aemond in the next part! On my hands and knees begging! Save The Queen Who Never Was!!

I apologize for the dragon fighting. I watched S2EP4 like 5 million times to describe dragon fighting, but my brain no work with that. As stated before, I am NOT familiar with GOT or HOTD (watched in once years ago), this is all made on the fly for a dear reader. So I apologize if it's "stupid" or terrible writing. But I will continue to write this for others that enjoy this series. Thank you for following along on this new journey.

There's also a sneak peek to a Targaryen x Stark story in the future....Sansa deserves love too.

The crackling of fire and the ocean waves crashing at the bottom of the cliff filled his ears along with the breeze combing through his hair. And the voice from the fire, which he normally heard on occasion, had been quiet for a long time. Tonight had to be different because of the strong need to light a fire in the night.

Before Rhaegar died, the Lord of Light spoke to [Name] many times. Made the father devoted to his children because one of them was going to have a son powerful enough to defend the North from the long night. [Name] thought Rhaegar would have been the one to have that son.

Obviously, he misinterpreted the Lord of Light. The son could come from Viserys’ line or maybe [Name] would have to have more children with Helaena to secure the prophecy from the god. Still, the voices stopped after Rhaegar. He thought he must have failed the god, disappointed the deity because he did not protect Rhaegar. Or get revenge for his fallen son.

“I heard that you speak to the fire, uncle.”

[Name] lifted his head from the burning fire and saw Jacaerys making his way over to the edge of the cliff where he sat by his lonesome.

A chuckle slipped past [Name]’s lips and he swept his legs over the edge of the cliff. “I speak to the Lord of Light, nephew,” His response was quick and to the point. Some people like his brothers described [Name] and Helaena to be odd; one spoke to the fire and the other spoke in cryptic messages. Aegon would tease and say that they were a special couple. The word special did not come from the heart, but Aegon’s way of saying simple.

“I’m not sure I heard of that god before, it’s not any of the Old gods or even the Seven,” Jace pointed out expertly while taking his seat, the same way his uncle did, the small fire between them.

“You’re right,” [Name] looked out towards the sea, the moonlight casting a blue hue onto the calm water, “I only experienced his existence in Essos when a Red Priest spoke to me with her alluring tongue.”

Jace snapped his head at [Name] and asked daringly, “Alluring? Did she get you in bed with her too?”

“What?” [Name] leaned back in offense then looked over at his family member, “I’m hopelessly obsessed with Helaena, Jace. I’m devoted to her and her body, no one else can satisfy me, not that I would want them too.” The man turned to the fire when a stick broke in half. Lead Jace into the fire, let him see. [Name] felt a strong pull at his chest and his eyes drew over to his nephew when he spoke up.

“So a red woman showed you her god and now you serve him?”

“That’s not how I started serving him,” [Name] admitted quietly, thinking back to the night of his commitment. The vision he saw in the fire, the voices he heard all convinced him to serve the red god. “She found me tending to Balerion’s teeth after a battle with some assassins. I don’t like the smell of burning bodies, especially ones that linger between his molars.”

As [Name] told his story, the fire subtly grew hotter between the males.

…

“Open wide, Balerion,” [Name] walked in front of his grumpy dragon with a bucket of sea water and a shirt from one of the dead men on the beach. Balerion huffed into [Name]’s face and turned away from the human with a disinterested groan.

Reeling back in disgust from the smell, [Name] covered his nose with his forearm and pointed at his dragon with his free hand. Voice muffled, but loud, [Name] shouted, “Where are your manners? I’m doing a nice thing for Dreamfyre and myself! No living thing wants to smell your tarnished breath!”

[Name] set the pale down and approached his dragon with a tired look on his face. He was warned about traveling to Essos for pleasure, but he wanted to get out of the castle. He wanted to stop hearing schemes and breathe for once. The air he caught flying was enough to fill his lungs and cleanse them.

Yet one last stop on the beach almost got him killed.

“Your dragon is very beautiful.” A woman’s voice startled the dragon and the rider, both snapping their heads to see the new person on the beach. She wore a red dress with her long dark hair cascading down the front of her chest. She held no weapon to his knowledge and her hands were placed in front of her.

Balerion’s throat clicked in unease and he lifted his head off the sand, some grains falling onto [Name]’s defensive stance.

“Give me one good reason why I should command my dragon not to burn you like I did the rest?” [Name] asked, his bloody hand gripping onto the handle of his sword. Skeptical of the woman, he didn’t let his guard down. If she was the one that sent the assassins, he would drag her by the hair and drown her in the sea.

The woman in red smirked and answered, “I am not your enemy, Prince [Name]. I came here to help you realize your potential in the upcoming war between your families. You are to be a formidable ally, one that can bring balance.”

[Name] scrutinized her and gently commanded Balerion to stand down. His beast chuffed and set his head down back onto the sand. Then [Name] looked at the bucket of water, dunking the shirt into it.

In his crouched position, [Name] began his interrogation, “Upcoming war between my families? There is no war, my lady. What are you insinuating?”

He noticed she was staring at his sad campfire and she asked quietly, “Your fire has dwindled, might I rekindle it?”

“I asked you a question,” [Name] stood up and wringed the shirt of excess water, “answer it.”

The red woman nodded her head and approached his campfire, she messed with the stick and dry grass, explaining, “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, my prince, but your father has passed away. With his dying breath, he told your mother that he wanted Aegon to inherit the throne. She-”

“Aegon?” [Name] scoffed and his face scrunched up in confusion, “That’s not right at all. My father has always wanted my sister to have the throne, for many years he’s always been adamant that Rhaenyra succeed him. Even if he suddenly changed his mind, why would it be Aegon and not me, the oldest, to inherit it?”

The campfire burst into flames and [Name] looked at the woman who conjured up fire with only her hands. She looked into the fire and said, “Your mother believes otherwise, insisting that your father spoke Aegon’s name. The Hightowers have usurped the throne and war will follow in the days to come.”

[Name] rested his hand on the upper lip of Balerion and paused for a second. Aemond was going to be crowned King, taking the throne away from their father’s true successor Rhaenyra. His mother, Alicent, couldn’t be this dull to really believe he said that on his deathbed. Even when he and his brother were born, Viserys never named either of them heir.

“My prince, please join me by the fire, I have something to show you,” The red woman’s voice spoke smoothly and [Name] blinked his eyes to focus back onto the beach. As if he was entranced by the color of the fire and the warmth from Balerion, [Name] removed his hand from the dragon.

He walked over to the woman and Balerion groaned in protest, watching his rider carefully. The beast didn’t trust the red woman yet and it showed when he bared his teeth as the woman reached for his rider. She moved her hands back and smiled at the dragon letting the beast know she won’t lay a finger on his rider.

“Look into the fire and tell me what you see.”

[Name] kneeled down on one knee and did as he was told. He felt completely different from the fire. He saw images of a long winter, a sword of fire, a white dragon that breathed blue fire and a boy from his line in the future. Then he saw people made of ice with blue eyes, a marriage with a Stark girl, and the long night that engulfed the north.

“Do you see now, my prince,” The red woman whispered in his ear, “you must return home and protect your family at all costs. Protect them so that the Dragon in the North can be born. Without him, the Prince That Was Promised will fall.”

…..

“A Prince That Was Promised, huh,” Jace huffed in question and playfully joked, “If a woman like her whispered in my ears like that, I would follow her god too.”

[Name] laughed and patted his sword next to the campfire and finished off with, “Then she blessed my sword with his power too. But I believe he wants you to see something as well. Look into the fire, nephew.”

Jace awkwardly laughed and shifted on the balls of his palms, “I think I’m alright, uncle.”

“Are you afraid?” [Name] furrowed an eyebrow and smirked, “Don’t tell me the heir to the throne is afraid of a vision in the fire. I suspected my nephew to be braver than that.”

“Fine,” Jace grumbled and looked into the fire, seeing small embers fly into the dark sky. The seventeen year old only wanted to amuse his half-uncle by doing what he wanted him to do. He had no real incentive to do it, but he was curious to see if the red god was real or if his uncle really was crazy.

The fire reflected in Jace’s eyes and [Name] saw the twists and snaps in the reflection. Jace’s lips parted open to speak what he saw in the fire, shocked to see the vision come to life in the flames.

“I see the North, there is an alliance to be made and an oath to keep.”

[Name] hummed in thought while Jace blinked his eyes trying to peer more into the flames.

“And I see-”

A huge gust of wind blew the fire out as Balerion roared past the men, Dreamfyre tailing her mate close by with a replying call. Jace ducked down immediately while [Name] laughed at the cowering position of his nephew. He fixed his clothing and his hair from the flyby, still laughing at the glare he received from Jace.

“Apologies,” [Name] cleared his throat and picked himself up from the floor, reaching a hand out to the teenager. “Balerion likes to announce his arrival, I’m sure he didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You saw him, didn’t you?” Jace asked, taking the offered hand and stood up with the help of it.

“From miles away,” [Name] answered, a grin on his face.

Jace wiped his clothes off and sighed, “A warning won’t hurt next time.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” [Name] chuckled and followed after his fuming nephew with lighthearted apologies.

Jace was soft of grateful to have his half-uncle at Dragonstone for many reasons. He looked up to [Name] when they were younger and admired Balerion from afar, too scared to ever approach the dragon. But [Name] tried to help Jace get over his fear of the Dread.

[Name] never questioned his or Luke’s legitimacy either, claiming that his twin and younger brother were green monsters. That Aemond envied their claim to the throne.

[Name] was a role model, perfect son of Viserys the Peaceful. The calm and deadly rider of Balerion. Nothing was truly bad about him.

“He’s a cunt.”

“You shouldn’t speak that way about him, our greatest ally,” Rhaenyra scolded Daemon, the council members having a small meeting about their newest arrival to Dragonstone. While the Hightower-Targaryens found sleep, the meeting concluded with the Targaryen family.

“He didn’t even demand my head or retribution for the death of his son,” Daemon growled out.

Rhaenys shook her head and made eye contact with the ill-tempered man, “No, he barely acknowledged your name. He thinks differently of the whole situation.”

“How so?” Corlys was also dumbfounded by [Name]’s sudden alliance with Rhaenyra. He also found it odd that [Name] didn’t want Daemon to suffer any consequences.

“[Name] puts the blame on his mother and her sworn protector Cole for the death of Rhaegar. He sees Daemon’s order as revenge for Aemond killing Lucerys and-” Rhaneys faltered trying to find the right words to describe [Name]’s motive for all of this, “he believes Rhaegar’s death to be collateral. You weren’t after [Name]’s son, were you?”

Daemon looked around the table and shook his head, “No. Not Rhaegar.”

“So you just proved him right,” Rhaenys continued on, “killing you or demanding any punishment from you will not bring him his son back. He’s learned that from you trying to avenge Lucerys. And he knows deep down that Rhaenyra is the rightful queen. He of all people should know that because he supported Rhaenyra’s claim along with Viserys.”

Jace nodded his head and vouched for his half-uncle, “[Name] has no desire for the crown even grandfather knew that. He never snickered behind my back or saw himself above me, never dished out the word ‘bastard’ like his brothers did.”

“He should hate me,” Daemon spat, “I killed his son!”

Everyone looked at Daemon with wide eyes from his outburst and Rhaenyra breathed out of her nose. She knew what ate away at her husband.

“Daemon, we know you feel guilty over the death of Rhaegar. Maybe this is [Name]’s punishment for you, to receive no punishment or consequences. To let you live on with innocent blood on your hands, to let you think of what you’ve done.”

Daemon looked up at his wife and glowered at her, “If I had Balerion, I would have melted this castle down to its bones, burning every person alive in here.”

Rhaneys straightened out her back and calmly replied, “Luckily [Name] knows how to use his authority on his dragon.”

Jace watched the back of [Name]’s head as he slowed down his pace to the castle. He didn’t know why, but Jace wanted to.

“[Name], I’m sorry about your loss. I-I know how it feels to lose someone, not a child, but a brother.”

Jace saw [Name] stop in his path and the young man turned around with a blank expression on his face. Perhaps Jace should have not said anything regarding Rhaegar, but [Name] spoke up with a soft voice.

“Aegon wanted me to burn you all and Otto wanted to put the blame on Rhaenyra having the people dub her as ‘The Cruel’. But I know my sister, your mother, she’s just like our father with a bit more spirit in her soul. I could never burn the true successor to the throne and if I have to make my family bend the knee with the power of Balerion, I will.”

[Name] looked up at the dark blue sky and said, “Rhaegar’s death opened my eyes and I’ve ignored the warnings from the red god. This time I will do anything for my family. Now come on, we can grieve together in the solitude of the castle walls.”

……

The next day, [Name] saw Rhaenyra’s dragon from afar, returning from her sudden trip to who knows where. Balerion noticed the golden dragon in the bright sun and called out in greeting to which Syrax replied with a screech of her own. Smiling softly at the interaction, [Name] commanded Balerion to do one last circle around his area.

Rhaenyra watched in awe as she rode her dragon, seeing the Dread patrolling the skies in all his dark imagery. Larger than any dragon she has ever seen, she was hopeful that Balerion and [Name] were on her side. Especially after the conversation with his mother.

She wanted [Name] to join in on the council meeting to discuss what was spoken too. To see if he had any advice of what his family could plan against her. So she urged Syrax to call for Balerion knowing that [Name] would catch on to the call.

The golden dragon moved her head side to side and let out a high pitched bellow to signal the black dragon to come back.

When [Name] heard Syrax’s call, he sighed and commanded Balerion to land on the beach where the black dragon made his nest. Swiftly, he took his black helmet off and began climbing down the ropes tied to his mount. Balerion grumbled then rested his head on the sand with a huff.

“Get some rest, Balerion,” [Name] took his gloves off next and placed his helmet next to his dragon, “we have tomorrow’s patrol as well.”

As if responding to his rider, Balerion's chest rumbled in agreement, the dragon closing his eyes for that much needed rest. Although, the black dragon did want to go on a hunt with his rider.

[Name] watched Syrax fly into the cave and he started making his long trek up to the castle. One of the cons of having a large dragon, you have to walk everywhere because it cannot sleep in a cave with other dragons. When [Name] was halfway to the castle, he saw a familiar red dragon fly out of the cave.

“Princess Rhaenys?” [Name] mumbled then hurried up the steps to see what was wrong.

When he made his way up to the council meeting, he spotted Rhaenyra looking pale and solemn. Helaena was by her side nodding to the words Rhaenyra spoke to her. Fearing that Rhaenyra was asking Helaena to fly out on Dreamfyre he interrupted the queen.

“Your Grace,” [Name] huffed and briskly made his way over to his wife. He set a hand on Helaena’s shoulder and said, “Send me, you promised me that Helaena wouldn’t have to fly Dreamfyre.”

Rhaenyra moved her eyes to [Name] and shook her head, “I was only giving Helaena some comfort, brother. Rhaenys is flying out to Rook’s Rest to provide backup to Lord Stuanton. There’s a possibility of her encountering Vhagar which is why you need to fly out with her. Now.” No time for goodbyes when Rhaneys was already flying out there.

[Name] looked down at Helaena and her eyes glistened with a teary goodbye.

“At once, Your Grace,” [Name] bowed his head at Rhaenyra and planted a quick kiss at the crown of Helaena’s head. Then he turned around demanding someone to give him a horse so he could ride out to Balerion.

Helaena watched her husband disappear out of sight and she looked up at Rhaenyra, “I know he’ll come back, but…the cost of Rook’s Rest would be far too great. It’s never a good thing to fight amongst blood.”

Rhaenyra looked away from the entrance and sighed. Helaena was right, odd as she may be.

……

[Name] had Balerion glide right above the sea water, knowing that if he had his dragon fly any higher than that, they would be spotted quickly. His heart raced in his chest and [Name] prepared his mind to fight his brother, Aemond. His biggest foe and greatest enemy now.

Aegon would never be on the battlefield just like Rhaenyra cause both parties were too important to be sent to battle. So he willed Balerion to fly faster to help Rhaenys against the green monstrosity that would soon come to Rook Rest.

Upon seeing the cliff Rook’s Rest was planted on, [Name] saw Meleys fighting a very family light pink and golden dragon. Eyes wide in surprise [Name] urged Balerion to fly faster seeing the blood of Sunfyre rain down on the earth.

“Aderī, Balerion,” [Name] shouted and the dragon grumbled in response. Then when they approached the cliff [Name] commanded Balerion to fly upwards parallel to the mountainside. The Lord of Rook’s Rest and his men felt a huge gust of wind blow them forward and turned around to see a giant dark beast rise into the sky with a thunderous roar. (qᵘⁱᶜᵏˡʸ)

High in the sky, [Name] spotted Vhagar flying her way towards the engaged Meleys and Sunfyre. “Naejot, Balerion,” The dragon rider growled in frustration seeing the highly focused gaze on Aemond’s face. (ᶠᵒʳʷᵃʳᵈ)

Meanwhile, Aegon held onto his mount hearing the painful cries leave Sunfyre’s throat. His ears shattered upon the noise that brought him sorrow. His mind racing a mile and his heart about to burst from his chest. That was until he heard the greatest roar in history rumble in the sky. His head snapped to the left and he saw Vhagar flying over to him with a determined Aemond on her back.

“Thank the gods!” Aemond cried in relief, but that relief was washed away. The look on Aemond’s face, it wasn’t a look of help, but a demand for blood and death.

“Dracarys!” Aemond shouted, the command Vhagar didn’t hesitate to defy.

Rhaenys and Aegon looked at the impending doom, both bracing themselves for the fire building up in the back of Vhagar’s throat as their dragons fought amongst each other.

Yet a desperate and willful demand shouted above Vhagar’s gurgling throat, “angōs, Balerion!” The black dread opened his mouth wide, snapping hard onto Vhagar’s flappy throat disrupting the line of fire. Vhagar roared out in pain while Aemond held tighter onto his mount, glaring at his brother who commanded Balerion to fly higher into the sky with Vhagar in his clutches.

But they were already too close to the earth for the command to have any merit, so he watched.

[Name] held onto his mount and watched Balerion hold onto Vhagar’s throat, squeezing tighter and tighter. Both large dragons took the show away from the smaller ones and [Name] couldn’t afford to look at Rhaenys when their biggest threat was in his grasp.

Before Balerion could sustain any injuries from Vhagar’s talons, [Name] ordered his dragon to back away. Not wanting to spoil his attack, Balerion swished his head tearing into Vhagar’s throat a bit more then kicked the green dragon to the earth. Balerion spread his wings wide parallel to the ground and glided over the burning men and fallen dragon with a victory cry, his tail smacking into some men running away.

The Black Dread took to the skies and [Name] turned around to see Sunfyre succumb to his injuries from Meleys. The golden dragon cried out with a high pitched screech before hitting the forest ground in silence and a puff of fire. [Name] cringed and turned away from the tragic scene. This was all happening too fast, Balerion had years of battle experience, but he didn’t. Neither did Aegon or Sunfyre.

Aegon couldn’t have survived that fall, he thought. It wasn’t possible. While distracted, an attack from Vhagar happened upon Balerion who roared out waking up [Name] from his stupor. He looked to his left and saw a small chunk of Balerion’s right shoulder blade in Vhagar’s mouth.

Quickly he held onto his reins with one hand and the other pulled Hellfire from its sheath. [Name] with strong legs, stood on his mount and began slicing at Vhagar’s saggy skin. The flames ate away at her flesh wounds.

“Damn traitor!”

[Name] ignored Aemond’s angered yell at him, for he was too focused trying to get Balerion help.

“I’ll kill you right here! And force Helaena back home, to fight with her true family!”

Hellfire burned brighter and [Name] stabbed Vhagar in her puffy cheek. Then he dragged his sword downwards to his mount forcing Vhagar to release Balerion because this fiery pain in her mouth was too much to bear.

Vhagar bellowed into the ash covered sky and [Name] demanded that Balerion dive down to escape from Vhagar’s talons. With a tactical retreat, Balerion flew away just in time for Rhaenys to strike a critical blow onto Vhagar.

Meleys attacked from behind and tore at Vhagar’s left wing causing the green dragon to breathe out fire into the sky. The Queen Who Never Was ended Aegon and Sunfyre, and now [Name] needed to pull his weight and end Vhagar.

[Name]’s heartbeat echoed in his head and he pulled Balerion back into the fight. If Aemond didn’t bring up Helaena in the fight, he would have left Rhaenys to claim the victory of killing Vhagar.

But Aemond was his now. Brother or not, you do not threaten his wife. Rhaenys saw the Black Dread making his way over with strong beats of his large wings. That look on [Name]’s face said everything she needed to know and she had Meleys release Vhagar, flying high into the sky to see the end of the Green’s Dragons at Rook’s Rest.

“Dracarys!”

His commanding voice sent shivers down Rhaenys’ spine and for the first time, she actually witnessed black fire shooting out of Balerion’s throat. Even at the safe distance she was at, the heat from it was too much.

Vhagar gave out a defeated bellow falling into the sea like a black fireball. A huge splash resounded in their ears and Rhaneys landed Meleys on top of Rook’s Rest looking down at the burning battlefield. Lord Staunton looked up at the princess and carefully asked, “Is it over?”

Rhaenys breathed in and out watching the aftermath of four dragons fighting. She and [Name] just ended the war in one battle. Balerion and Meleys, injured yet fearlessly fighting with their riders, ended the lives of two dragons. Suddenly Balerion landed on the burning field and roared at the usurper’s men.

One by one, men started surrendering with their weapons falling from their hands. Green banners left to be stomped on and she could hear some men whimper at the sight of the victorious dragons.

“Yes, Lord Staunton,” Rhaneys breathed out, “It is over.” Her eyes dragged over and saw a paranoid [Name] on his mount. She unhooked herself from her mount and Meleys moved a wing down to Balerion's back.

Meanwhile [Name] tried to catch his breath, but his chest felt like it could explode. His grip on Hellfire loosened and he pounded at his heart with an ache. His throat closed up and his vision got blurry.

“[Name], relax!”

The adult male blinked the tears away and saw a clear vision of Rhaenys holding onto his shoulders. She must have jumped onto Balerion from Meleys with great expertise.

“You need to calm down, breathe.”

She softly demanded, her face covered in ash morphed into worry as he said, “My own brothers, I killed them. My own blood.”

Rhaenys’ eyes softened at his turmoil. “Aemond, you saw him,” She tried to reason with him, “he would have burned Aegon were it not for you. You stopped Aemond and his tyranny, no one would blame you for doing that. And I killed Aegon, not you. You’d be wise to remember that you fight for Rhaenyra’s claim, you support the rightful heir. No one is going to call you a kinslayer.”

[Name] sucked in a deep breath and his shoulder slug forward in defeat despite winning a great battle for Rhaenyra. This happened all too fast and ended so quickly. Nothing was going to make him feel better right now.

“Princess Rhaenys and Prince [Name]!”

A voice shouted from the castle, it was Lord Staunton.

“The Hightowers have fled with their remaining men and there is no sight of Aegon, but his dragon has succumbed to its wounds. Shouldn’t we chase them down on dragonback and horses?”

Rhaenys looked back at the male adult in her arms and shouted back, “No! For now, we take this win and wait for Queen Rhaenyra’s orders on what to do next. Prepare Prince [Name] a hot bath and a meal. He fought well against his usurper brothers, it’s what you must do for him. And send a raven to Queen Rhaenyra. We have news to tell her.”

News, [Name] thought. She didn't describe it as good news for the Queen. His brothers deaths were definitely good news for the blacks. Although for him, it was just news.

...........................................................

MUSIC THAT INSPIRED THIS CHAPTER

There Will Be No Mercy - Ramin Djawadi

Rook's Rest, Pt 2 - Ramin Djawadi

The Red Woman - Ramin Djawadi

#x reader #hotd x male reader #hotd x reader #hotd season 2 #hotd #helaena x male reader #x male reader #helaena x reader #helaena the dreamer #helaena targaryen

169 notes · View notes

litchifaerie · 5 months ago

Text

Guilty as Sin [Aemond Targaryen]

pairing: aemond targaryen x niece!reader (unspecified dad)

warnings: fluff, very little angst, not Daemon's daughter but she has silver hair, ooc!aemond (?), "i burn for you" typa confession. niece!reader strikes again.

word count: 3.3k

After the incident of Driftmark, it was a known fact that the family of the dragon has now broken into two factions, namely: The Hightower Greens and The Targaryen Blacks. Young Prince Lucerys had somehow managed to blind his uncle, Prince Aemond, in an act of what rumours say to be “self defence”. The family damaged beyond repair went on to live separately, no longer finding joy in maintaining the facade of a “happy joint family” to appease their king. Now years later, the question of inheritance of Driftmark is raised. Lord Corlys Velaryon is feared to be nearing his death and thus Vaemond Velaryon has raised a petition for himself to be declared the heir instead of its true heir, Lucerys Velaryon.

When the Blacks made their home in Dragonstone it took them quite a while to settle in with its rough seas and jagged cliffs. In a few months everyone seemed to settle in well. Everyone except for Rhaenyra’s eldest child, her only daughter, you. Back at King’s Landing you loved the court. You loved meeting the ambassadors of kingdoms you had read about in books with Aemond. You loved sneaking around the castle at midnight with Aemond. Your bare feet hurriedly rushing over the cold of the stone floors in search of some leftover lemon cakes in the kitchens. You loved sewing with Helaena and learning the names of her friendly little creatures. You and Aemond were perhaps the only companions she had growing up.

Yes, yes, you missed Aemond even more so. And now six years later, here you are, sitting in the carriage with your mother and step-father awaiting to reach the Red Keep soon. You’re busy gazing out the windows, looking at how much King’s Landing has changed. I wonder if that jeweller still has a shop in the city market. Lost in your thoughts you jump a little when you hear your mother speak. “Do keep an eye on your brothers there. Daemon and I have some matters to attend with the King the moment we reach. I do not want those two to pick a fight with your uncles.” Rhaenyra speaks calmly.

You nod with a polite “Of course mother”. And with a moment of hesitation, you ask “Is it alright if I invite Helaena for an afternoon tea, perhaps even a play date for her twins and little Viserys and Aegon? Please allow it mother! It has been ages since I last saw her! I wish to see my baby cousins and catch up with my dear aunt…” Rhaenyra can never say no to your pleading eyes. She only chuckles “yes my dear you may”.

It wasn’t a long while before the carriage came to a stop. A knight comes to open the door for you. “No one to greet us hmm” murmurs Daemon. His ability to remain stoic sometimes makes him seem invisible even in close proximity. He steps out first, helping you and your mother down next. Jace and Luce come rushing begging to go to the training grounds. “Boys”, you call out, “Mother and Father have some matter to attend to. Now if we may, lets see how the knights here train at King’s Landing.” With that you just turn around and they follow you like ducklings, ever the obedient little brothers.

You make your way to the training yard, looking around and seeing specks of your past. It all seemed like a far away dream now. How happily the boys played fight together, with you dabbling in some swordplay at times. Distant shouts of cheers catch your attention and you look their way. “Seems like there’s a fight going on” Jace remarks. And Luce replies energetically “Lets go see how the knights fare then” and drags you both towards the crowd.

A clash of swords and flurry of movements of men later you are able to catch a glimpse of long silver hair. A Targaryen. Long hair and a fine swordsman? Can’t be Aegon. That leaves the 2 others. And as you get closer you recognise his silhouette. It took you a little time but you can spot him anywhere still. It’s not your eyes that tell you of his identity but your heart. Its him. Yes, it is. Its Aemond.

“Well done my prince. In no time will you be participating in Tourneys.” Says the knight, who if your memory serves right must be Ser Criston Cole. “I don’t give a shit about tourneys” Aemond replies trying to gather himself after that tiring display of amazing swordsmanship. And then he spots you. At first Aemond believed it to be untrue. His mind had played many such games with him through the period of your absence. The Gods were cruel to not only rob him of his eye but also his dearest friend the same night. Maybe he stared at you a moment too long because that was enough for Jace to step in front of you and shield you from his uncle's view. At that Aemond seems to snap back to reality. “Nephews, come to train? Shall we see who has turned into a better swordsman these past 6 years.” He clearly is still looking to pick fights. You put your hand on Jace’s shoulder “Do not engage he just wants to rile you up”.

The crowd whispers amongst itself. Do you see that? The sons of the Queen and Princess do not get along. Are the whispers true then- You think you need to squash these whisperings now by a show of goodwill. You walk towards Aemond in the “dainty” manner a proper Lady should approach a Lord. “Uncle” you come to a halt just a bit away from Aemond, a few inches closer than it is deemed appropriate. “How have you been? I see the years have been kind to you. The tales of your growing talent of sparring has reached Dragonstone. And I am happy to say those words do no justice to your skill. You’re much better than what they lead us to believe.” Flattery. Heaps of it. So what if it’s a little backhanded. I need to patch things up even if it’s a little. “Dear niece” Aemond raises your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles “Ever the beauty. That must mean the tales of Lords and Knights fighting over a chance to court you must be true then?” and all you can do is chuckle. Oh so he will play this game then. “You flatter me too much my prince. I was wondering if you and Princess Helaena would have your afternoon tea with me. I’ve missed you incredibly. And I just can’t wait to meet little Jaehaera and Jaehaerys”

Ser Cole places his hand on the prince’s arm, “Perhaps some other day Princess. Prince Aemond has some mat-”. “Yes I will” Aemond butts in before Cole can finish. “Very well then” you fold your hands together. “I shall take my leave now. The journey here was rather long and tiring”. You look behind you to see the astonished faces of your brothers. You know what thy must be thinking. What the fuck is going on in her head? “Come Jace. Come Luce. Let us go freshen up. Mother is waiting for us” You wait for your brothers to take one of your arms each. And you leave just like that. Maintaining eye contact with Aemond for as long as it was societally acceptable of you to look his way without it spurring rumours.

Are her hips swaying? Is what Aemond notices as he watches you leave. With a smirk on his face his last thought is: You’re home now zaldrītsos.

You walk with your brothers to your room, both of them still silent, a little surprised at your actions that’s all. You’re at your door when you turn around “Brothers if you may. Please go to your respective rooms and tell your servants how you’ll like your rooms arranged. The long jouney has taken a toll on me and I wish to be alone.” They know that tone. They know what you say is less of a suggestion and is most definitely a command. And they know better than to cross you when you’re tired. Being short tempered is something you have learned from Daemon while growing up. He truly was your father in every way imaginable except biologically.

Once in the comforts of your room you let a deep beath out. And there it is on your bed. You hoped it would be. The letter with the blue wax seal on it. A sapphire blue.

“Welcome back dear niece.

The crown jewel has finally returned to the court.

See you in the evening.”

~ A. T.

It’s evening now and in another part of the Keep, Aemond seems to overhear a very important conversation on his way to his sister. One about the matter of your betrothal. “Those Hightower cunts” Daemon seethes openly. Mother? Aemond hides behind a pillar in the seemingly deserted corridor while he heard his uncle openly badmouth his “kin” without any care of who might hear. The doors to the chamber were left ajar. “When you suggested y/n be betrothed to Aegon and Jace to Helaena. She refused the very moment it was suggested. Appalled that such a proposal can even be made. And now when we are here to have the king’s blessing to betroth Jace to y/n, the so called Hand has already made a suggestion for a match between that one eyed boy knight and our daughter!” Rhaenyra is just silent. Daemon seethes in his anger. But all Aemond focuses on is that he could have your hand if his mother finds a way. And also, a little angry that Jacaerys Velaryon, rather Strong, might covet what’s his.

Fuelled by what he refuses to call jealousy, the prince makes his way through the Keep. With only one destination in mind, he storms through the corridors paying no mind to the strange looks he receives. And its as if he is 10 again, knocking at the doors of his beloved friend. But now he is a man of 19, and she is more than his friend. She is his destiny and he will have her.

You’re busy taking your heavy necklace off, opting to wear long delicate crystal earring instead which matches the long flowy gown you changed into for the tea when you notice the knocks. Thinking its your ladies-in-waiting you yell out a “Come in.” Setting the necklace on top of the dresser, you’re surprised to find Aemond’s reflection staring at you through the mirror. “My prince” you turn to face him, still sitting at your vanity, “Aren’t you here a little early for the tea?”

“Hmm…” Aemond just hums in reply and sits on the settee nearby, “I’ve come to know of an interesting proposition regarding you my niece”. That was enough to have your attention, “And what that might be Aemond?” you cock an eyebrow at him. “You’re going to be betrothed by the time your stay here ends”. You’re a little stunned but you expected this coming. Your mother has given you the liberty to choose who you might marry but you won’t do so at the expense of her political foothold. Marriage cannot always be for love and you will follow your duty like the honorable Princess of the realm you are if that is what’s required of you. “Yes, I’m aware” you tell him plainly. “I think they have Jacaerys in mind.”

“And you have no issue regarding it” Aemond asks, finding himself to be a little unnerved at your calm demeanour. “No issue whatsoever?” And you can’t help but sigh “It is what is expected of me uncle. Targaryens are known to marry their siblings. Look at yours. I always knew that there might be a possibility of me marrying Jacaerys. I am my mother’s firstborn. Her heir. But I am not a son. She only seeks to squash any problem that might raise for when I ascend the throne by marrying me to her firstborn son.”

“He’s not worthy of you. None of those plain-featured boys. You’re more valyrian than they are with your silver hair.” Aemond speaks out. “If I were you, I would watch my tongue Aemond. Don’t want you to lose your other eye due to your idiocy.” You say casually while combing through your hair.

Aemond was a little sick of your nonchalant attitude. How can you agree to this match? Why do you seem so fine? Why are you willing to go through with this? All he can do is sit in silence, his eye refusing to watch your figure, his ego stopping him from expressing what he wants. But you know what he wants, and you want him to say it out loud.

You get up from the vanity, your silver hair in loose waves, the setting sun casting an ethereal glow around you. You look like the very picture of an angel to Aemond with a halo behind you. And suddenly all he can see is you, all he can breathe is you. You’re close, too close to him, his knees are touching your leg as you stand in front of him. The door to your room is only closed shut and not locked. One can just simply walk in and catch you.

Your fingers ghost over his cheek, trailing up to his eyepatch. “Does it hurt now?” he hears you say. There is no pity on your face, just curiosity. And your touch is so delicate, so soothing. “Not as much. Sometimes when I have worked myself too hard a sharp sensation shoots up but then subsides in a while”. And now its your turn to hum. Bringing your other hand to his other cheek you gently cup his face. And Aemond’s lone eye meets yours.

His eye seems so vacant. But if I look hard enough, I can catch a glimpse of the young boy who chased me through the gardens. “Can I see it. Your eye?” you rub your thumb against his cheek. Affection. Aemond bring his hand up to reach for yours, the one on the side of the maimed eye. “It is ugly. It might frighten a lady.” He hesitates. She will take one look at me in my hideous glory and never look my way again.

“Not to me. Especially when its you.” That sentence holds a lot more meaning and truth than what one might think and you only hope Aemond understands. And Aemond does what you ask of him. He gently removes his eyepatch waiting for you to let out a gasp. He wants to close his eyes for your inevitable disgusted expression but he cannot look away from you. He looks at every muscle you move on your face but he doesn’t see a grimace, instead could it be, is it awe?

A soft smile graces your face, wildly different from what he anticipated it to be. “The sapphire compliments your features nicely. I hope the gem isn’t uncomfortable?” He is dumbstruck for a minute. “No, it doesn’t, I always wanted to thank you in person for this gift.” When his eye healed, Aemond was surprised to find the city’s most famous jeweller with a chest full of his best gems waiting for him in his mother’s parlour. A reparation I suppose, the queen had said, the Velaryon girl wrote this letter saying how “sorry" she was for her brother’s action and expresses her regret for not being able to defend you against her brother. He wanted you to be there with him when he woke the next day, he remembered your crying face when the master said Aemond’s maimed eye can’t be repaired. It’s worth it y/n. I lost an eye but gained the biggest dragon that there is.

You resume rubbing your thumb gently over his scar and that’s what brings him back. “No man, no matter how noble he is, deserves you”. “Then who does my prince? Pray tell”, you say. You know his answer. Just say it Aemond. I beg you. “I have a duty to the crown Aemond”, dropping your hands from his face, you walk away from him. “And I will do it, even if I don’t wish to.”

Aemond was furious “How can you be so blind? Do you not see my pain?”. Your back was turned to him and you closed your eyes in frustration. You turn to look at him, with angry tears in your eyes, “I am tired of waiting for you!” you yell, “These past years have been agonising. It hurt not to be around you. But those letters kept me going. Our secret exchanges were what I kept looking forward to every week.” Aemond’s chest is just heaving. “And just when I thought that there’s a sliver of chance you feel the same-”

“I do.” Aemond interrupts you. He reaches forward to hold you but you back away. “Then why Aemond” there’s a slight tremble in your voice. “Thousands of lords and knights came to have my hand. And I rejected every single of them, hoping that you will present yourself in front of my parents and ask for me. You claim to have affection for me but I don’t see it.” You cut him off before he has a chance to explain.

“I’ll show my love for you” is all the silver haired prince says before tugging you to him harshly and planting his lips on yours. Its wild, full of passion and fury. The kiss seems to ignite something in you. Both your inner dragons coming to life and breathing out fire. He’s burning you with the force of the emotions the kiss conveys.

Although you feel breathless you still craved more of him. Your hand went at the base of his neck, tangling at his roots. You drag him even close if that’s possible. Aemond’s one hand is around your throat, controlling your movement, dominating you completely. His other strongly grips your waist keeping you in place. Your lips move together in perfect synchronisation although there seems to be a bite here and there.

The Targaryens are only gods because of their dragons. Right now, right here, were two young lord and lady lost in each other and were in dire need of air yet unwilling to be apart, fearing what comes next. You’re the first to break the kiss. The evidence of your passion is seen on Aemond’s swollen red wet lips and messy hair and you can only imagine yours to look the same.

Aemond leans his head against yours, your foreheads touching. His eyes are closed in pleasure and a rare smile graces his leeps but all you can do is admire him through your eyelashes. “Make me your wife” you call out softly. “Ask my mother for my hand. I do not wish to marry Jacaerys…he is too much of a brother. It is you I want. I’ll fight for you if needed be” Aemond opens his eyes at that. “Silly girl”, he says, “The Queen has asked the King for our match to be made.” Your brows furrow in confusion, “My mother agrees?” Aemond brings a hand to caress your face, “I think she does. Daemon on the other…” Even you become anxious at that statement. “My uncle is a challenge I welcome” he continues, “Nothing can keep me away from you. I’ve waited years for this, I can’t let go of you now.”

You can’t help but smile. You loved Aemond but marrying him meant going against what your mother had taught you. Knowing the distaste Daemon held for the members of green party, and thinking of your brothers’ action against Aemond made you feel immensely guilty. But you waited all these years, you were the exceptional daughter all this while, ever obedient, ever graceful. Never a hair out of place. Always the perfect princess. And if Aemond is the treason you commit against your family, then you will happily be guilty as sin.

#jia.writes ♡#would tremendously appreciate your thoughts on this. i need criticism to do better next time. reblogs and likes are much appreciated too!!#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen oneshot #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fluff #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon

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fairydvsts-blog · 1 year ago

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i loved “i could fuck you better” sm! 🥵 reading the part where she begs rafe to finish in her without protection made me wonder, could u maybe write something for ex!rafe getting reader pregnant? 🤫

𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞

Rafe Cameron x ex!fem!reader

obx masterlist

summary; your relationship with Rafe hangs by a thread, but a mistake will forever bind you together

warnings; SMUT, p in v, unprotected sex, unexpected pregnancy, some angst but fluff in the end

a/n; english isn't my first language, so you might find some mistakes; I'm open to constructive criticism. Sorry for the delay, I'm a slow writer :(. I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but I hope you enjoy it and thank you so much for your request!! ❤️

When Sarah had invited you to her birthday party, the last thing you expected was to end up in Rafe's bed... Once again.

You two had broken up a few weeks ago for the hundredth time, and you had been ignoring him since the break up because you knew it was likely you would get back with him if you didn't.

And he didn't deserve it after what he had done.

But that night he was acting very different from how he usually acted: kind, sweet, caring. You hadn't seen him snorting any coke and he had even apologised for being a jerk —which was almost unthinkable coming from him—, causing you to soften in no time.

Before you knew it, you were naked under his dreamy body.

He was pounding into you hard, your bodies were covered in sweat and you couldn't help but moan with every thrust, each one of them hitting your g-spot. His hands were everywhere, touching and caressing every part of your body almost like he was worshipping you.

"I've missed you so much, baby," he whispered while he grabbed your neck to bring your face closer so he could kiss you, taking your breath away.

His tongue slipped between your lips and you moaned, closing your eyes and pulling his hair so hard that he groaned in your mouth. You used your legs to push his hips rougher against yours and you swore you felt the tip of his dick rubbing your cervix.

"Have you missed me?" he asked when you didn't reply, desperate to hear an answer.

He grabbed your left thigh, hard enough to bruise, and he placed your leg over his shoulder, heightening your pleasure. You cried out and hold onto his biceps with so much force that your gel nails dug into his tanned skin. You tried to give him an answer, but that new position was clouding all your senses and you weren't capable of putting words together; you had lost count of how many times you had come thanks to his fingers and his dirty mouth, but you could feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm again.

"Are you gonna answer or should I stop, baby?" he insisted, slowing down his movements.

"No, no, please, I'm so close, Rafe," you begged him as you ground your hips to try and get yourself off.

"Have you missed me or not?" He pushed your body against the mattress so you couldn't move and stopped thrusting.

"Rafe..." you stuttered, looking at him with pleading eyes, but he didn't budge.

"Yes or no? It's an easy question, baby." He placed his thumb right over your clit, rubbing it at a torturing but very pleasing pace.

"Yes, I've missed you so much," you finally recognised, whimpering and biting your lip because of his actions.

He smirked, clearly satisfied with your answer, before he started pounding into you again, faster this time. He kept touching your clit with his fingers, making your eyes roll back, and you tried to match his pace the best you could. Soon, you were standing on the edge of the cliff, ready to jump off it.

"I'm going to cum," you told him, grabbing his hand to encourage him to rub your clitoris faster, and he complied.

"Me too, baby." His breathing was heavy while he started letting out more and more moans as seconds passed.

You stroked his belly, feeling his abs contract under your fingertips, and his thrusts became sloppier. You knew he wasn't going to last much longer, but neither were you, so you tightened your muscles around his cock and he groaned aloud; his raspy voice caressing your ears. With one last touch on your clit you came hard, trembling under him and moaning so loud that you were sure people on the first floor could hear you.

"Oh, fuck yes."

Your climax triggered his; Rafe cried out a bunch of curses while he fucked you through your orgasm and his own. You were so lost in the moment that you didn't even realise he was not wearing a condom. Three weeks later, though, when your didn't get your period, you became aware of your enormous mistake.

You sat on your bed, shaking and holding the pregnancy test in one hand, your phone in the other. It was positive, you were pregnant, but you were so scared of Rafe's reaction to that information that you didn't dare to tell him. You started crying your eyes out, not knowing what to do.

Should you tell Rafe?

Should you tell your parents first?

Should you keep it a secret and have an abortion?

You were too damn young to be a mother and you weren't ready for a responsibility like that, but it didn't seem fair to Rafe that you made that decision without being honest with him about the situation first; he deserved to know, even if you weren't together anymore.

You hadn't talk with him since your last encounter at Sarah's party given that you went back to ignore him as soon as you had left the house the morning after. He, on the other hand, was being more persistent than ever, blowing your phone with calls and messages every day.

That time, it was you who called, and it took him less than thirty seconds to pick up his phone.

"Baby, I'm so glad that you called." He sounded relieved to hear form you.

"We have to talk, Rafe," you simply said, struggling to contain your emotions that were all over the place.

Now at least you knew the reason behind all of your recent mood swings.

"See you in five." He hung up the phone.

As he promised, he was ringing your bell five minutes later. You opened the door, your eyes clearly puffy due to all the crying, and he frowned when he noticed, hugging you almost immediately.

"Are you okay, baby?" he asked, concerned.

He carried you inside, sitting on the couch and motioning you to sit on his lap. You did so, crying inconsolably on his shoulder as he whispered reassuring things to your ear throughout. He didn't pressure you to tell him what was going on; he just waited till you were ready to talk.

"We fucked up, Rafe," you said when you had calmed down, turning to look him in the eyes, "I'm pregnant."

His eyes widened when he heard you, his mouth dropping open because of the news, and it took him a few minutes to overcome the shock.

"Say something, please," you asked, feeling your eyes starting to water again.

Your heart was hammering in your chest; you were terrified. What were you supposed to do if he didn't support you in the most difficult moment of your life? For you, that would mean the end of your relationship forever.

Thankfully, that did not happen.

He just put his arms around you one more time and said, "Baby, whatever decision you make, I'm here for you, okay? I'll always be there for you when you need me, because I love you with all my heart."

For the first time since you had met him, you felt truly safe in his arms and you knew right away: he was the one, your one. It was pointless to try to stay away form him; you were his and he was yours and the universe would always conspire to bring you together, because you were meant to be.

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jueyvns · 9 months ago

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synopsis. just when did he fall in love with you?

pairing. royal guard!satoru x princess!reader

contents. fluff, same universe and a prequel(?) to this

satoru couldn't remember how exactly he fell in love with you. it all came very naturally. he remembers how you took his hand and brought him in front of your father, the king himself and practically begged him to make him a royal guard.

what did you see in him? poor boy, always left alone in the streets with no one and nowhere to go home to. stealing every now and then just to make sure he has food to stay alive. but on that day, you were like the light to him. his angel.

he started to train like every other guard in the palace. he was very young compared to the other guards in training. training in the palace was tough and most of the other guards in training seemed to dislike him but it was better than sleeping in the cold weather and stealing just to survive. and besides, there was you.

you would visit the training space every now and then. the guards would expect the same question coming out of your mouth. "where is he?" of course, they always knew who you meant. you'd come to visit him and tell him about your day. he always listened to every single one of them.

one night, satoru couldn't sleep which led him back to the training grounds. panting from exhaustion, he sat down on the ground, his arm settled behind him. how many hours has it been? three? four? he wasn't counting anymore. right now, he could only hear the sound of crickets and smell the night air from the trees. it was peaceful.

he heard something else though. like footsteps? it came closer and closer. holding his blade, he stood on guard. surely there wouldn't be a threat in the palace grounds, right? he almost jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"hey, you!"

he turned around, his breath hitched. it was you. by this time, both of you were sixteen years old. your hair was longer and your features had matured a little. that didn't matter to him though, you're always stunning to him. but why were you here again? it was midnight and he knew well that it was past your curfew.

"your highness," he half whispered. not wanting to make too much noise. your hand was still on his shoulder. "it's midnight. i don't think you should be here— i mean, not that i want you to leave but what if you get in trouble?" he wanted to jump off a cliff with how bad he stammered with his words.

you slightly pouted, "i thought i told you to stop calling me that." your hands moved from his shoulder to gently hold one of his hand. "just (name) is fine. and to answer your question, who cares if i get in trouble?"

he hoped you didn't notice how his cheeks have reddened. he met your gaze, "i care. also i can't just call you by your name.. that's improper."

"no, it's not! try saying it," you smiled up at him.

"i ca—"

"it's an order," you plastered a smug grin. he looked at you in disbelief. he let out a breath before quietly saying, "(name)."

"couldn't hear youu, what was that?"

"i said (name).." he said a little louder, feeling embarrassed. you smiled in amusement. well it was worth it, he guessed. he was able to make you smile like that.

"see that wasn't so hard, was it? now i got someth—"

"now say mine."

"—what?" you suddenly stopped talking upon hearing him. you tilted your head. his eyes didn't leave yours at all. his hand still holding your hand, firmly. "say my name," he said, much more confident now.

his heart felt full seeing you flustered under the moonlight. for once, you were nervous now. it was unlike you.

"gojo? i call you that often, don't i?"

"no, not that," he shook his head. he was still looking at you, eyes full of adoration. "my name," he brought your knuckles in front of his lips but not close enough to kiss it.

"please?"

you wanted to run away and lock yourself in your room. how couldn't you give in when he was so pretty and was doing whatever this is?

you took a deep breath, tearing your gaze away from him. hoping it'll make you less anxious. "satoru." he let out a chuckle.

he liked that, he loved that actually. the sound of his name rolling of your tongue. it felt right. he kissed your knuckles. "see, was that so hard?" he teased you back, your other hand covered your face. satoru held your wrist so you'd stop hiding your pretty face.

"oh, so now you're shy?"

"shut up."

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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fiapartridge · 1 year ago

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invisible string | quinn hughes

"isn't it just so pretty to think, all along there was some invisible string tying you to me..."

quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: when quinn gets chosen to be one of brady tkachuk's groomsmen, he can't help but imagine what it would be like getting married to you...

word count: 729

warning(s): fluff! & sex jokes lol

As soon as Quinn walked out, trailing behind the rest of the groomsmen, his eyes immediately caught sight of you. The entire day, he was stationed in the best man’s suite, making sure Brady didn’t do anything stupid like run out last minute or drink so much he would have to get wheeled into the ceremony, so when he finally saw you in your silky green dress, flowers pinned to your perfect hair, it felt like he got the wind knocked out of him.

Sitting with his brothers, you didn’t even hear Jack and Luke teasing you for not paying attention to the little flower girl scattering petals down the aisle. All you could do was watch Quinn in his suit and tie as you smiled at the flowers that decorated his pocket square, knowing they matched yours. Emma had a couple extra flowers that she had thrown together to put on the boys, so she gave you some, knowing it would make this day even more special not just for her and Brady, but for you and Quinn, too.

They had been urging you two to get married for the longest time, but you didn’t feel the need to rush anything. When the time was right, Quinn would pop the question, or you would pull a ‘Friends’ and ask him instead. The time just had to feel right and the moment hadn’t come yet.

Until now.

When everyone’s eyes lit up and the violins started to play, and Emma floated down the aisle in her beautiful white dress, Quinn couldn’t help but wonder what your guys’ wedding would be like. You had mentioned you wanted it by the water surrounded by all of your closest friends and family and agreed not to make it bigger than 100 people. His little cousins would be the flower girls and Jack and Luke would fight over who would be the best man, but everyone knows Quinn would choose both of them. You had a bet with Quinn that whoever cried first would have to dance with your grandma– she talked anyone’s ear off. One dance with her actually meant three.

When your eyes met his, he mouthed a soft “I love you,” in which you returned the gesture, your eyes stinging with tears. After the vows, the newlywed couple said “I do,” the guests cheered, and it was time for the reception.

As everyone found their seats, you stood with Quinn’s brothers by the bar, making a bet with Jack that whoever drank the most would have to jump the cliff at the lakehouse when they returned next summer. You were scared shitless of the cliff and as confident as Jack may seem, he hated it too. When Quinn walked over, he smiled watching you laugh with his brothers. No other girl he was with meshed with his brothers as well as you did, which was another point Brady and Emma made when trying to get him to propose to you.

“Hi, baby,” Quinn grinned, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you kissed his cheek.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages,” you smirked.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Please, you guys were practically eye-fucking the entire ceremony.”

You smacked his arm as Quinn laughed. “We did not!”

“Yeah, that comes after the wedding, Jack,” Quinn smirked as you hid your face in his chest.

Your voice was muffled as you begged him to stop. “No more sex jokes! Lukey’s still here!”

Luke scoffed. “You’re acting as if I wasn’t just in college. I did plenty of stuff in co–”

You turned around in Quinn’s arms, pointing at Luke. “Don’t even finish that sentence.”

Luke laughed, walking away to talk to someone else as Jack followed, not wanting to be stuck as a third wheel in yours and Quinn’s love fest.

“You look so beautiful in that dress, baby,” Quinn whispered in your ear as you felt goosebumps run down your skin. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Your cheeks were stained pink as you pressed a light kiss to his lips, your thumb running over his jawline. “I can’t wait for our wedding.”

“Mhm, there will be dinosaurs, and clowns, and spiders, and space rockets, and–”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “You’re such a prick.”

“Yet you love me.”

“Bold assumption, but… I guess you’re kinda right.”

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagines #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #hockey fic #brady tkachuk #wedding #invisble string #taylor swift

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bellinyx · 2 months ago

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Heart of the Sea

Prologue: The Woman on the Cliff

Love and Deepspace

Summary: "When you take me into your waiting arms and steal my final breath as payment…take with it the memory of him." Pairing: Rafayel x Reader Word Count: 2.6k Warnings/Additional Tags: Angst, Fluff, Romance, Angst With Comfort, Suicide, Character Death, Star-Crossed Lovers Trope A/N: Hello! Please be reminded that this is a work in progress, and I am still relatively new to writing, so please be patient with me. If you guys do end up enjoying it, then likes and follows are always appreciated. With that said, I hope you all enjoy the story!

The sound of waves crashing against the cliffside seemed to drown out the rest of the world as a woman stood atop the cliff face. Her eyes trained on the sky as dark storm clouds rolled in from the west, darkening the sky with their approach and blocking out the light of the setting sun. The distant clash of thunder ringing in her ears, and the flash of lightning shining in her lifeless eyes as she lost herself to the memories running through her mind. Lost herself to the memories of her lover and their time spent together. The feeling of his soft purple hair running through her finger, the sight of his glittering scales as he swam through the ocean currents in the morning light, the warmth that spread within her heart as she stared into his unique eyes.

His eyes.

What beautiful eyes they were

The colors of blue and pink mixing perfectly together, and reminding her so much of the setting sky now blocked out by the dark gray clouds above. The storm rolling in around her and causing the temperature to drop drastically, her warm breath coming out in puffy clouds against the cold air. The wind speeds rising, and the waves crashing hard against the cliffside below as she continued to stare up at the sky. The cold grass beneath her bare feet barely registered within her mind as she took a step forward.

Then another.

Until at last she stood at the edge of the cliff, her lifeless eyes still trained on the sky as lightning flashed once more. Thunder shaking the earth below as the first rainfall began. The droplets gently pelting against her ice cold skin, wetting her hair and causing her clothes to stick to her skin. The soft smell of rain mixing perfectly with the familiar scent of the sea as the frigid winds rose up from the crashing waves below. The wind running through her damp hair and brushing against her cheek in a gentle caress, as if knowing and acknowledging her struggles, as if beckoning her to join it in the dark depths below.

“Please…”

The woman began, her voice no more than a whisper against the raging storm around her. Still, even the waves seemed to calm their assault against the cliffside at the desperation in the woman's tone.

“Grant me one last act of mercy. When you take me into your waiting arms and steal my final breath as payment…take with it the memory of him. The memory of his beating heart beneath my fingertips as I sang to him late into the night, of his hands in mine as we danced beneath the waves in each others arms, of his lips pressed against mine as he pledged his love to me…of his hands reaching out to another woman, of his kingdom falling to ruin and of his blood staining the ocean red and his broken scales floating atop the water's surface as he took his final breath.”

She begged, praying to any god that would listen to grant her this one last wish before she is swallowed by the depths of the sea and forgotten for all time.

As her words were spoken into the world, lightning flashed across the sky with thunder following soon after as the storm grew in its intensity. The familiar scent of sea salt invading her senses as the wind brushed against her cheek in a final caress, reassuring her of her decision before carrying her words across the sea. The wind parting the clouds above her and allowing a steady stream of light to peek through, its colors a beautiful mixture of blue and pink, so reminiscent of his eyes. The light shining down upon her and beckoning her forward, promising her peace if she just took that final step. The sight causing a soft smile to spread across her lips as the woman raised her hands to the sky, welcoming the beautiful light as if welcoming home her long lost lover.

“Thank you.”

She whispered, her voice filled with an overwhelming gratitude.

A single tear rolling down her cheek as she finally closed her eyes, that single droplet rolling off of her chin and falling into the ocean below as she took that last step forward. The cold ground beneath her bare feet disappearing as she allowed herself to fall.

Down.

The wind picking up in speed and the waves crashing against the now empty cliffside with a renewed vigor. The roaring of the thunder drowning out the sound of the woman's body hitting the ocean below with a sickening crash.

A deafening silence greeted her as she sank beneath the waves, the ocean welcoming her into its cold embrace as she sank further and further into its depths. The metallic taste of blood on her tongue and the throbbing pain in her head causing her to lose focus as she watched the surface grown farther and farther out of her reach. The frigid cold of the ocean waters seeping into her bones and chilling her to her core as her vision began to blur. The sight of the raging storm above the surface of the water the last thing she saw before she slowly closed her eyes. A soft smile spreading across her lips for the last time as she finally allowed the darkness to take over her mind.

The pain of her throbbing body and the frigid chill of the ocean within her bones slowly fading away as the ocean did as she asked. Taking her into its waiting arms and stealing her final breath as payment before finally taking the memory of her long lost lover away from her.

———

At the docks sat a young woman, her legs crossed beneath her as she stared down at a notebook held within her hands. Her brows furrowed in thought as she tapped a pencil against her chin, trying her best to think of what to write. Yet, as the minutes ticked by, she couldn't help but grow frustrated with herself as her mind continued to wander.

Realizing she wasn’t going to be getting anything done, the woman sets her notebook down in her lap with a sigh of irritation. Her pencil falling from her hands and rolling across the dock as she buried her face into her hands. A soft pout making its way onto her face as she glanced out across the ocean, her chin propped up against her hands as she leaned on her knees. The sight of the setting sky beyond the ocean calming something deep inside of her as she stared for a while. The soft blues and pinks within the sky mixing beautiful with the golden glow of the setting sun shining across the ocean. The feelings of warmth, love and dedication the colors caused within her heart confused the woman, yet she couldn't find it in herself to mind as she allowed the sight to calm her racing mind.

To anyone looking in, they would see a woman sitting peacefully at the edge of the docks, a notebook in her lap as she staring lifeless out at the setting sky beyond the ocean. However, in the woman's eyes, all she could see was the colors of blue and pink mixing together in a beautiful display. All she could see was lightning flashing across a stormy sky, the sound of thunder shaking the earth and waves crashing against the side of a cliff, and the feeling of the wind caressing her cheek as her body is plunged into the icy depths of the ocean below.

The sound of her pencil falling into the water below is what finally brought the woman out of her thoughts. The memories and faint sensations fading from her mind just as fast as they had come as she glanced towards the edge of the dock. Her head peaking over the side as she glared down at the wooden pencil floating atop the waters surface a couple of feet below.

“Darn it, not again.”

She whispers, her hand reaching out to pluck the pencil from the sea, only to stop as something caught her eye.

It was a small fish, no bigger than her palm. It's scales a beautiful iridescent blue against the ocean surrounding it. It's head poking out of the water to nibble on the side of her pencil, looking the same as a puppy chewing on a stick. The sight causing the woman to chuckle as she takes a moment to glance around, making sure no one was watching her before finally reaching her hands out. Her fingers dipping into the water below as her Evol slips out, her eyes glowing a soft blue as the water bends around itself to form a water bubble around the fish and the pencil. The bubble hovering just above her palms as she pulls it towards her. Keeping its shape and allowing her to get a better look at the little fish with the pencil still in its mouth.

“Hello there.”

The woman says, her smile warm as the fish glances at her before going back to chew on its prize.

“I’m sorry to say, but that’s not food, little one.”

She says, reaching inside the bubble and gently pulling the pencil out. The bubble remaining intact around the little fish as she sets the pencil down next to her on the dock.

“Now, what are you doing so close to the docks? I’ve seen a big old fat cat walking around here lately who looks like he would eat you the first chance he got.”

The woman says, her smile teasing as the fish begins circling around the bubble. It's eyes wide and filled with curiosity as it checks out its new vantage point before finally glancing back down at where the pencil was lying beside the woman. Its eyes hungrily eyeing the prize it had worked so hard to get, only for it to be snatched away in the end. The sight of such a look on a fish’s face causes the woman to laugh as she reaches down and picks the pencil back up before finally slipping it back inside of the bubble.

“Alright, fine. You can have the pencil, it’s not as if I was getting anything done with it anyways.”

The woman mumbles with a pout, watching as the fish immediately latches onto the side of the pencil. Its little eyes finally looking up at the woman as it nibbles on its new treasure.

“Hmm, with your love for that pencil, I can only assume that you are a very artistic young fish. You wouldn’t happen to have any ideas for music, would you little one? I’m having a bit of writer's block while coming up with something new.”

She says with a smile, not expecting an actual answer as the fish looked at her with curiosity.

“Do you get all your ideas from fish?”

Someone suddenly asks from behind the woman.

The sudden voice caused the woman to gasp, her body jumping in surprise but the bubble luckily staying intact above her hands. The little fish looking at her with what could only be described as a pout as she glances over her shoulder, her eyes widening as she finds a man standing right behind her.

He looked young, probably no older than herself, with soft looking dusky purple hair and fair skin. He was dressed in a beige multi-colored cardigan over a white button up shirt and black pants with a dangly earring hanging from his right ear, a travel brochure clutched in his right hand as he stood with his arms crossed.

Once the shock of his sudden appearance had faded, the woman's surprise was then replaced by amusement as she finally registered the strangers words.

“Of course I do. After all, fish always have the best ideas.”

The woman says, giving the stranger an amused smile as he raises an eyebrow. A smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he comes closer, crouching down to examine the fish still nibbling on the pencil within the protection of its bubble.

“Are you sure about that? This one doesn’t look too intelligent.”

The man says, reaching out to gently poke at the bubble and watching as it keeps its shape.

“I’ll have you know this little fish has big plans for himself. See, he already had the first tool that any great artist needs.”

The woman says with a confident smirk, nodding to the pencil within the fish's grasp as the fish continues to nibble on its prize, completely unaware of the two people arguing over its intelligence.

“Is that so? Well, if that's the case, then he should probably learn that pencils aren't food.”

The man says, his voice teasing and his eyes filled with mischief as he glances away from the fish to instead look at the woman with a playful smirk.

His eyes.

At the sight of his eyes, the woman's smile slowly falls as she stares up at him. Her eyes widening as she loses herself in the soft blues and pinks of his eyes. The color familiar to her in a way she couldn't describe, the memory of a heartbeat beneath her fingertips and light caressing her skin flashing through her mind as she loses herself in his gaze. Seeing the dazed look in the woman's eyes, the man gave her a curious look. His playful smirk still present as he raised his eyebrow in a silent question. The subtle warmth hidden within his gaze causing the woman's heart to race as she tilts her head. A soft smile spreading across her lips as she stares up at him with a far away look in her eyes.

"What beautiful eyes."

She whispers, her voice soft in the silence between them.

However, her words seem to have an effect on the man. His eyes widening, the smirk falling from his lips as he stares at her in shock. The look in his eyes haunted, filled with a deep anguish and guilt that the woman could not understand.

As if he had seen a ghost.

It was this look that caused the woman to finally snap out of whatever trance she had been in. Her eyes widening as she realized what she just said to a complete stranger. A dark blush of embarrassment spreading across her cheeks as she looks away from the man. Her eyes glancing over the fish instead as she tries to calm her racing heart. All while the fish looks at her with what could only be described as pity as it continues to nibble on its pencil.

By the time she had gathered the courage to turned back to him, the man had already stood and was making his way back down the dock towards town. His sudden departure causing the woman's eyes to widen in surprise, her eyes trailing after him as his figure got further and further away.

“Oh um, goodbye. Nice meeting you.”

She says, her voice filled with confusion and guilt as she watches him walk away for a moment longer before turning back to the fish.

“Well, that was embarrassing.”

She mumbles, her eyes scanning over the fish for a moment before her smile returns.

“Well, thank you for spending time with me, little fish, but its getting late. You should probably start heading home. I hope you enjoy your new treasure.”

The woman says, reaching down to gently set the bubble back into the ocean. Her Evol returning to her as the bubble disperses, allowing the fish to swim around in a couple of circles before finally making its way further into the sea with its prize held tightly in its mouth. The sight causing the woman’s smile to grow as her gaze slowly travels to the setting sun in the distance. Savoring the sight of the blues and pinks of the sky blending together before heading home for the day. The familiar scent of sea salt invading her senses as the gentle breeze blows through her hair and brushes across her cheek.

With her distracted, the woman didn’t notice when the man from before stopped walking to glance at her over his shoulder. That same haunted and regretful look in his eyes as he watches her savor her time by the sea. His eyes scan over the familiar sight of her white hair cascading down her back in beautiful waves and her pale blue eyes filled with warmth as she watches the sunset beyond the sea. The sight almost too much for him to handle as he finally turns away. His steps heavy and his heart even heavier as he makes his way further and further away from the one place he wanted to be, refusing to turn back around for even a second.

Knowing that if he did, he would never leave her side again.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed, be sure to like and follow for more!

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1d1195 · 10 months ago

Text

Dolcezza VI

Read Dolcezza here.

Warnings: fluff, angst--lots of it. I know we're all waiting on the big reveal or whatever based on my cliff hanger but you're going to have to wait a little bit 😊

~8.4k words

The sun coming through the blinds outlined her like the angel she really was, and Harry was sure there were cartoon hearts floating around his head as he gazed at her.

“Do you want me to get Harry?” Niall asked.

“No!” She nearly shouted. Niall blinked in surprise. She cleared her throat and her face warmed as Harry’s best friend looked at her like she was nuts. She honestly felt a little crazy and she prayed to God the man up front didn’t hear her and give away that she was slowly losing her mind. “No, no... it’s... he’s not doing anything wrong,” if she lied to herself enough, maybe the problem would go away.

“He’s allowed to be in the same place as you?” Niall’s eyebrows rose half-way up his forehead. Obviously, he hated this.

If Niall hated this... she hated to think what Harry would do.

She shrugged one shoulder as casually as she could manage, then nodded. “It’s only fifty feet,” she murmured.

“You know the dimensions of this place?” Surprise and distaste were evident in his tone.

She swallowed the figurative rock that had wedged itself in her throat. She tried to take a deep breath as quietly and shallowly as possible. She could still feel his gaze on her back. He had to know she was terrified, and she didn’t want to give him any more excitement into knowing she was scared. “You learn to measure 50 feet by sight,” she mumbled.

“Tesorino, please let me tell Harry,” Niall begged.

She shook her head rapidly, feeling the intensity of his stare never faltering. “Niall, please. He’ll worry and it’s—”

“I’m worried,” he admitted, speaking lowly so only she could hear.

There was thick exasperation in her sigh. “Please don’t. It’s fine. He’s just...there.”

Niall answered her sigh with his own angry, frustrated one. “Tesorino, Harry would lose his mind. Worse, he would be devastated if you didn’t tell him. He’s already probably going to hate me for waiting this long to tell him and it’s only been three minutes. Please let me tell him.” She didn’t say anything. But Niall could see the exhaustion on her face. This couldn’t be easy for her. None of it. On top of a long day with her crazy family and car trouble. Niall thought she was brave just for being upright. “Tesorino,” he repeated leaning close. There was a pause that seemed to stretch on for hours but couldn’t have been more than ten seconds. Niall was doing his best not to stare back in the offending direction.

She had to say yes. Niall needed her to say yes. He didn’t know what would happen if she said no. He couldn’t imagine looking his best friend in the eye and keeping that from him. Not when he knew how much he adored this sweet girl. Niall was equally terrified. Over the months she lived above his workplace and stole his best friend’s heart, she turned out to be one of the funniest and best people he knew. He loved her in a way Harry didn’t. Because he adored her like a sister he never had and like the best-friend-in-law he already assumed she’d be, he couldn’t stand the thought of her getting hurt. He was ready to throw himself over the bar and stand in front of her if needed.

He held his breath for the ten seconds she paused. Waiting wordlessly, panicked that he would have to ruin his relationship with her if she said no. There was no way he wasn’t telling Harry.

Fortunately, she nodded. The slightest headshake. He knew it probably took a lot out of her to say she needed help. It wasn’t lost on him, and he hoped he could convince Harry to see it that way. He released a breath for about as long as he held it. “Thank you, Tesorino,” Niall sighed with relief. “Harry!” He shouted, starting back for the kitchen.

She grabbed his hand right as it lifted off the bar before he made his way to Harry. He turned his attention back to her. Her hand squeezing his gently. “Please don’t leave me alone,” she whispered, her voice small.

Niall’s heart broke right in half. “Fuck,” What an idiot. “Of course not, Tesorino,” he promised and covered her hand with his other and squeezed it back with a gentle smile. It was meant to be encouraging but he was afraid it was filled with pity.

“I was looking for you. S’matter?” Harry asked, stepping up to the kitchen window. His hand zoomed in on Niall’s touching hers. Her gaze dropped to the bar already feeling like she was in trouble. “Oh...hey, Principessa. Y’okay?” Niall turned, still holding her hand giving it a reassuring squeeze as he faced Harry. Never once letting go. Patrons at the bar beside her were staring every so often at the weird chain she and Niall made as he spoke to Harry—it couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds. But the only thing she could really sense was the gaze at her back. It killed her to stay facing forward. It felt like the hardest thing in the world.

Niall spoke quietly. The din of the restaurant covering the noise of his words. Words that she didn’t want to hear and words that made her feel sick. She felt hot and scared.

Not to mention, completely defeated.

She couldn’t look up to see the disappointment on Harry’s face.

Suddenly there was a hand on her back, and she was startled so badly she let a tiny yelp out of her throat before Harry’s cologne invaded her nose. Before she could jolt her head back Harry’s lips were right near her ear. If anyone heard her, they paid no mind. She could almost feel his lips touching her earlobe as he spoke. The hand on her back pressed gently and soothingly against her spine. “S’time t’go Principessa,” he murmured lowly.

It was one of the only times in her life that she could remember letting someone else take charge and worry about her. It scared her almost as much as feeling the gaze of her stalker on the back of her head.

The poor thing must have whispered sorry about ten thousand times. It broke Harry’s heart. Especially after the nice day he had with her. He thought he had broken down a ton of walls and was excited to kiss her until she was breathless when he brought her back to her place.

Now they were in the kitchen strategizing, or at least, Niall and Harry were. The three settled by the lockers for the staff, sitting on the little bench. Harry was pacing nervously while Niall tapped on the bench with his fingertips while thinking. The rest of the staff ignored them. They were getting close to closing the kitchen down anyway, so Niall wasn’t needed as much, and Harry wasn’t even supposed to be there.

She was sitting mutely beside Niall, feeling like an idiot for believing this wouldn’t catch up to her. It had been a blissful, almost year. She was hopeful he was just gone, found someone new to bother. Or something else... anything but this. Harry was pacing listening to Niall trying to get an idea of what was happening up at the front of the restaurant by asking one of the waiters to keep an eye on that table and let them know when the guy there left. Harry had his hands pressed to his lips, steepled in front of him.

“Principessa,” Harry said putting a hand on her shoulder making her jump again. “What do y’think?” He asked.

She shook her head. “I’m... I’m so sorry. I wasn’t focused, can you—”

Niall smiled at her sympathetically. “S’okay, Tesorino,” he promised reaching over and squeezing her knee soothingly. “Harry—but also very much me, too—would feel more comfortable if you stayed at our place.”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Trying to sound braver than she felt. Which was albeit very little. “It’s probably not that big of a deal... I can stay in my apartment. I wouldn’t want to put either of you out or—”

Harry sighed and tilted his head back. It was obvious he was frustrated. Maybe even... angry... at her. “S’not a problem, Principessa,” his voice was clipped. Irritated.

She felt like everything that she talked about with Harry today was ruined. She looked at her hands in her lap. Fiddling with the thumb ring she bought she spun it around and around below her knuckle. “We’d feel safer with you at our place,” Niall was a little calmer than Harry. She envied that. Wished she could be calmer. Harry looked like he was going to rip the hair out of his head. He ran a hand over his face. The waiter came by to report that the man was gone, and all three sighed with relief.

“Can I get some stuff?” She asked quietly.

Niall tutted sadly. It really felt like she was in trouble at school. Harry looked so worried but immensely... mad. An emotion she hadn’t seen on his sweet features once in the nine months she had known him. “Course, Tesorino,” Niall nodded easily. “Harry will take you up to get whatever you need.”

Harry was silent the entire drive. Further making it feel like everything that was and could have been between them was ruined. He didn’t even hold her hand. It was completely unfair because she had spent many car rides without his hand in hers and it wasn’t a big deal. Now, after one day, it felt cold and horrible. It felt wrong and made her want to hold his hand so very badly in an attempt to fix it.

The time she spent packing was tense and silent too. Harry didn’t rush her, but he may as well have had a timer. It felt like everything she did was wrong and awful. She also packed way too much stuff which added to her stress. It looked like she was going on vacation for a whole week and that had to be overwhelming for Harry. For all she knew, he wanted to make out with her and maybe start dating. Not have her move in immediately.

Due to her frustrated daydreaming, she didn’t realize they were parked in a driveway. Niall had gotten a ride home from Antonio just a little before them, so he was able to do a scan ahead of time and sent a reassuring text that it was all safe to enter. She opened her door and Harry leaned across her immediately and pulled it shut. She turned to him, her expression a bit bewildered.

He got out of the car wordlessly and came to her side where he opened the door for her. He smiled weakly. The first sign of her Harry in an hour. “S’my job t’open doors for you, Principessa,” he murmured.

Her heart fluttered. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she answered because she didn’t know what else to say to that. She stepped out of the car and Harry released a light chuckle. She could tell Harry was trying to be casual as he looked around. Luckily, the neighborhood was small. It would be obvious if there were an unknown car parked nearby. Or a stranger lurking in the shadows. Someone would have called the police for such a suspicion before Niall even noticed.

He grabbed her duffle bag from the back, and she pulled her backpack from the passenger floor and slid it on before they walked toward the house. Niall’s car was parked beside Harry’s. The house was adorable. Not too big. Just one story with a nice yard. Niall mentioned it was two bedrooms, two bathrooms. Of course, there was a big kitchen because it’s where Niall and Harry shined, and it was important they had one.

Even if they rarely used it since all their time was spent at the restaurant.

She jumped when the light turned on for the front steps. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered.

Harry smiled sadly. The poor thing. Harry let her inside first, peeking one last time over his shoulder grateful there was nothing out of place as he closed the door. The three seemed to sigh with relief as Niall closed the front door and locked it.

“Welcome home, Tesorino,” Niall winked. He yawned, stretched, and smiled sweetly. “Make yourself at home, but m’very tired.”

“Yeah, of course,” she nodded quickly. “I’m sorry—”

“Shh,” he hushed, shaking his head easily, and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Sleep well, love. S’all good,” he promised and shuffled down the hall.

She felt wildly uncomfortable. Poor Harry. This was not what he signed up for. “C’mon,” he hummed and started after Niall toward what she assumed was the hallway with the bedrooms and bathrooms.

Harry opened one door and flicked on the light. “S’my bathroom. Niall’s is connected t’his room, so if y’have t’use it, y’gotta go through his room. But be careful, he has laundry mountains,” he warned. She wanted to inspect it more. What kind of shower curtain did he choose? Did he pick out the hand towels himself? Was it annoying that when they had friends over, they had to use his bathroom?

She smiled. “I don’t see myself going through his room.”

“Jus’ letting you know,” he shrugged.

She frowned. The vibe was so incredibly tense. He was visibly mad. “This is my room,” he flicked on the light as he entered the door across the hall from the bathroom. It was pretty minimalist. A dresser, a bed, a nightstand, a desk. On top of his desk was a collection of books lined up and bookended by a pair of brackets shaped like a bicycle going through the books. His laptop and a picture of what she assumed was his mom and sister were next to the books, too. There was a closet along the front wall, and she felt the need to look in and see all of Harry’s clothes. Most of the time she saw him in his ever-present black kitchen ensemble. Today’s adventure was one of the only times she saw him in dark jeans and a long-sleeve Henley. She imagined there was more where that came from but still wanted to know. Or maybe he just used it as storage and dress shirts. But it was exactly the kind of thing she wanted to know because of the stress of the last hour.

The room was painted with a light color. It was almost white, but she swore there was a hint of yellow-almost-peach color hiding in there and she only knew that because she was staring at it trying to figure out what color it was. “Mum insisted on the color,” he rolled his eyes. “Said m’choice of dark blue was depressing.”

She smiled again thinking about how nice it was that he listened to his mom. His bedspread was dark navy, pulled to the top of the mattress with four fluffy pillows. It matched the area rug he had under the desk. All his furniture was dark brown in color. “Blue would have been too dark,” she agreed. He smirked and rolled his eyes. It eased the anxiety in her heart a little.

“Are y’tired?” He asked.

“Hmm?”

“Tired, Principessa?” He repeated and she wondered if he thought she was stupid now. It felt like she was stupid.

“Uh...yeah.”

Wordlessly, he opened two drawers grabbing a couple of things out of his dresser. Then he stole a pillow off the bed. “M’gonna let y’sleep, then,” he said. “Wake me up if y’need anything. M’usually up by eight at latest on the weekend. But wake me up if y’get up earlier,” he promised heading for the living room.

She shook her head as if all at once, her brain returned to her head after the last hour. “Where are you going?” She asked stepping into the hall watching his retreating figure. He looked so boyish, carrying a pillow at his side, dragging it like a little kid. It was adorable.

He turned around to her looking at her with confusion. “T’sleep, kitten,” he smirked with an eyeroll.

Her heart stopped and she felt flustered all over again. “On the couch?!” Her voice cracked.

“Uh... yeah?”

“Harry,” she shook her head. “I can’t... I can’t kick you out of your bed,” she said hurriedly. “I won’t sleep.”

He smiled softly and shrugged. “S’okay, Principessa. Want you t’be comfortable.”

“I will be so uncomfortable if you sleep out there while I’m in your bed,” he looked pretty resolute in his decision, and she thought she might lose this one. It made her feel horrible. And she wasn’t sure she was very-well brave enough to go follow him into the main room and cram herself against him on the sofa if he did make his way out there. “Harry,” she whined and twisted her fingers together anxiously. “Please, don’t,” she begged.

“Well s’no chance m’letting y’sleep on the couch, kitten. So... s’very limited in our options here.”

“You can sleep with me,” she said quickly. Then her face turned the same shade as a firetruck. Harry smirked and she put a hand over her eyes. Harry stepped back toward her.

“I can, hmm?” He asked with a lilt in his voice that sounded like her Harry. The one that teased her, soothed her, and made her feel like nothing bad could ever happen to her simply because he liked her so much.

She pulled her hand away from her blushing face. Harry was standing with just inches of space between them. Her head tilted back so she could look at him. His green eyes hooded by his eyelids, and she realized he looked damn near exhausted. As much as she wanted to make out with him, it seemed unfair. The car, her family, the driving, the stalker. It was all a lot for anyone to deal with and definitely not what Harry signed up for today.

Of course, he made it seem like it didn’t bother him, but even she was tired. She couldn’t imagine how he felt. “Er...” she swallowed. “I meant... your bed is big,” she murmured. “And when I’m tired, I sleep like a zombie,” she admitted. “I mean, I won’t move or roll around and get in your space.”

“Hmm...” she could feel the breath of his exhale across her cheeks. “What if I want you in my space?” He wondered. Her voice felt like it was dead. Gone completely. No longer there.

“You don’t hate me?” She managed to whisper. “Or think I’m annoying? Or want me out of your hair? I know this is more than what you ever wanted to deal with today. On a day off to boot.”

She watched him wince very minutely. A twinge of his lips, a wrinkle on his forehead, and a quick jolt of his head twisting to the left. “M’not answering any of those silly questions, Principessa,” he responded instead.

“But you’ve been so mad the entire drive here. You... you didn’t hold my hand,” she whispered like a dumb elementary school student whose crush pushed another girl on the swing set.

His gaze softened. The pinch in his brow disappeared and his eyes went back from laser focused to the gentleness he always seemed to have when he looked at her. He brought his hand to her face and brushed his thumb on her cheek. “M’not mad at you. Of course, m’not. Y’did nothing wrong. You are...” he shook his head. “M’terrified of something hurting you. Someone hurting you. M’mad at him. I could never be mad at you, m’Principessa,” he whispered. “Been dreaming ‘bout you in m’bed. I’d probably sleep like a rock jus’ thinking ‘bout you in here while out on the couch,” he admitted making her heart stop. Harry knew all the right things to say. “After the last couple hours...” he stared at her steadily. “If I sleep in the same bed as you, kitten,” he shook his head and clucked his tongue. “I wouldn’t be able t’let y’go,” he promised.

Part of her thought she should be embarrassed by his statement, but she had been dreaming about way worse than Harry sharing a bed with her since she met him. Each time they touched she thought her heart would explode. When she watched him chop vegetables, or any time she caught a glimpse of his fingers doing anything, she imagined inappropriate touches that would make him think she was insane. “I’m okay with that,” she whispered breathlessly.

“M'gonna kiss you now,” he told her leaning closer to her. “M’not going t’stop for a while,” he promised.

“Are your rooms soundproof?” It wasn’t even a whisper anymore—it was quieter than that. The air that escaped her lips came out nervously. She was lucky he could understand her. It was a stupid thing to ask but her brain was malfunctioning once more, and it was the only thing she could think about; Niall just two rooms over and across the hall.

There was an ache in his jeans at her question, and he let out a low moan from his throat. His lips were so close to hers. “We’ll have t’find out,” he whispered, his lips brushing hers as he spoke. Not a kiss, just touching as he said the words. It still set her on fire. Harry dropped the pillow and his clothes and wrapped his arms around her waist firmly, before sinking his mouth on hers in a kiss that she felt all the way to her toes. She ached everywhere, immediately and let out a groan as he lifted her just so her toes brushed the floor and could easily push her back into his room. He kicked the door shut and she truly prayed the walls were thick and wouldn’t embarrass herself in front of Niall tomorrow morning.

She woke up after feeling like she had slept for a whole week. Her lips felt swollen, and light was filtering in from the window. It landed on the expanse of Harry’s muscular back unmarred by tattoos which she now knew covered almost every inch of his torso and most of his left arm, but not the right. As much as she wanted to take Harry’s boxers off last night, she could see the same amount of fatigue in his eyes as she felt in her own body. So, true to his word, they kissed and kissed and kissed and didn’t stop for a while—until her breath was so shallow Harry started to worry about her all over again.

Harry pulled almost all her clothes off, running his hands up and down her body in a way she had never experienced. It was as if he was searching for something but was still so gentle. Like whatever he was searching for was in an area filled with bubbles and he wasn’t allowed to pop any of them. It made her feel beautiful and whole. For however long they kissed, (she hadn’t a clue because she didn’t time it) she forgot about everything except Harry.

The tiredness took over eventually and Harry clutched her body to his. His body was warm and protective around hers, spooned behind her. “Is it everything you dreamed?” She whispered, her arms stacked and nearly crossed around the cage he had her in his embrace.

“S’better, Principessa,” he mumbled and kissed the back of her head. Her skin was so soft and warm. It really was better than he could have dreamed. But he promptly fell asleep.

Obviously, they had turned and moved a bit in their sleep. She leaned over and pressed kisses at evenly spaced intervals down his spine. She caught sight of his alarm clock reading 7:18. She didn’t want to wake him up—at least not till eight because he deserved all the sleep he could get after yesterday. But she couldn’t keep her lips off him. The room was chilly and lifting herself from under the covers to lean over and kiss his skin let the heat out from their little cocoon. It killed her to think he would have to go to work in the evening. Maybe earlier. He probably had prep stuff to do.

Her mind spiraled a bit, wondering if she would go with them. Maybe she should go back home? She kind of missed the smell of garlic and olive oil and didn’t realize it was such a comfort to help her fall asleep. Or would she stay here? She could get a new comfort in Harry’s lips.

Harry’s breathing was steady, no indication that her lips had woken him. But she heard her phone vibrate from somewhere in the pile of her stuff. She slipped out of bed feeling guilty and wrong about leaving him. She grabbed her phone and managed to find a shirt and pair of pants from her duffle bag and picked up her phone so when it started to vibrate again, signaling the person at the other end was not giving up, it wouldn’t bother Harry. Near silently, she stepped out of the room closing the door quietly.

Luckily, Niall and Harry’s floors didn’t creak when she padded back toward the main room. “Hello?” She asked her phone softly.

“Where are you?” Eleanor asked alertly. “I’ve never seen that address before and I’m terrified. Are you alright?”

Shit. She should have warned her.“I’m fine,” she assured her immediately. “Really, everything’s fine,” she promised her through her whispers.

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because Harry and Niall are sleeping,” she sighed and put a hand to cover her eyes.

The silence was deafening. “Are you...?” Eleanor gasped. “Halelujah!” She sang. She smiled and felt herself blush even though she had no reason to. It’s not like Eleanor or anyone for that matter could see her. “So that’s Harry’s address?”

“Yes, Mom,” she rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to worry—” She stopped and cleared her throat because she didn’t want to worry Eleanor and certainly didn’t want to lie to her. But technically, there was a need to worry. “You don’t have to worry right now,” at least that was the truth. Technically. Hopefully, she could figure something out before it became a serious problem. “Why are you awake?” She asked.

“I had to pee and needed water and I checked my phone for the time, and it said you were at a new, unfamiliar location,” Eleanor sighed with relief. “How did you end up there?”

She sighed. “It’s... a long story,” one that she didn’t have details for yet because she didn’t know all of them. Ones that she didn’t want to worry Eleanor with when she was supposed to be asleep. “I’ll... call you later. Go back to sleep. I’m okay,” she promised.

Eleanor released a yawn, and she could hear the ruffle of sheets. “She’s okay,” she whispered.

“Wonderful,” she heard Louis grumble.

“Jesus Eleanor, let the poor man sleep,” she rolled her eyes.

“Enjoy La Casa di Harry,” Eleanor sang once more, then hung up almost instantly.

Harry was just starting to wake up. Bits of a dream he didn’t remember still on the edge of his mind. But he smelled bacon, home fries, and toast. He moaned quietly as he stretched and turned to see the sweet girl, the star of all his daydreams, standing in the doorway with a plate of food steaming in the early sunlight. His chest felt a warmth he couldn’t describe. “Hey Principessa.”

The groggy, warm, and creaky voice he had when he woke up was her new favorite thing. She felt a pulse of adoration for him flow through her like she had been electrocuted. She was lucky she held onto the plate. “I made you an omelet,” she answered softly. She hated being loud in the mornings. Mornings were meant to be quiet and gentle.

“You didn’t have t’do that,” he sat up against the headboard. She walked over to him, dodging Harry’s discarded jeans and T-shirt, and stepped around her own jeans and sweater.

“I did, though,” she nodded knowingly.

“Did y’sleep okay?” He asked as she settled the plate in his lap. It looked delicious and Harry’s stomach growled without him fully realizing how hungry he was.

“Very,” she smiled. “I... I just want to bring Niall his breakfast, then I’ll be back,” she said standing beside him as he looked at her. The sun coming through the blinds outlined her like the angel she really was, and Harry was sure there were cartoon hearts floating around his head as he gazed at her.

“Hurry,” he said cutely biting into the toast. She giggled and scurried to the kitchen and then back down the hall. Harry sipped from the water bottle he left on his nightstand and nearly choked as he realized his mistake. “Wait!” He called.

“Oh... oh I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, you make breakfast, too?” Niall asked sleepily. Harry sighed, tilting his head back against the board behind him and rolled his eyes. “Gonna have to compete for you soon, Tesorino, if Harry doesn’t make a move,” there was a pause and Niall shuffled by Harry’s door. Naked as the day he was born.

She stood in the doorway looking a little surprised and pink cheeked as ever. Harry smirked. “Should have warned you.”

“Any time you want to make me breakfast in bed, Tesorino, my door is always opened.” Niall smiled and pecked her blushing cheek as he headed back to his room holding the plate and ketchup bottle in his hand.

She looked at Harry who casually nibbled on his yummy food. “Did y’make yourself some or are we sharing?” He asked.

She shook her head to rid herself of the image of Niall naked across his bed. “Uh... hold on,” she said. “I’ll go get my plate,” she answered.

“Must have got her second guessing,” Niall shouted.

“Niall, shut it,” Harry growled.

After they ate the yummy food, she put their plates in the sink and promised she would wash everything in a bit. She closed the door as she returned, hurried to snuggle under the blankets, and curled up to Harry’s warm body. This had to be what heaven was like. Harry holding her in the sun-rising morning on a Saturday. After a few little turns and movements, she wound up lying with her ear pressed to his heart. His fingers skimmed up and down the length of her arm and it was hard to believe that after all the time he spent thinking about her in this capacity, she was here. Even if there were a million problems and he was still exhausted just by thinking about last night... she was here.

There wasn’t a thing he had done in his life that felt as nice as holding her.

The rise and fall of her body against his made him happy. She was okay. Physically. He certainly wasn’t going to let anyone get to her. After a bit of contemplation, he noticed she had fallen back asleep. He brushed his lips on her forehead and combed her hair softly along her hairline with the pads of his fingertips.

It was easy to pretend nothing was wrong because it felt so perfect. He tried not to think about all the problems that were outside their little cocoon. He wanted to take the night off but honestly, not working might make his mind a little too wandering to all the bad that could happen.

Plus, if she came along to the restaurant or her place, she would only be a short walk away. Not a ten-minute drive across town that would make his anxiety skyrocket. She startled awake, just about as quickly as she fell asleep. It couldn’t have been more than seven minutes. She twitched and frowned, nuzzling her nose against his chest. “Y’okay, Principessa?” His voice was low and gravelly. He kissed her forehead, but it felt like he was kissing on the part of her heart that was infatuated and in love with him.

“Hmm,” she hummed. “Think I fell asleep again for a minute,” she murmured.

“S’okay. Y’can sleep,” he offered. “M’not going anywhere for a while.”

“No?” She asked, was that hope in her voice? God, he was going to say something stupid like he loved her.

“Niall’s going t’do prep. I’ll go in right before the waiters and waitresses do for the evening,” he explained. “So, we’ve got some time t’relax,” he promised. The smile on her face couldn’t stop and Harry thought he might explode from how sweet she looked. “What?” He asked.

“I’m glad... we get to spend the day together,” she admitted, her cheeks turning his favorite shade of pink. It was adorable to see her tuck her face into Harry’s chest. He thought his heart might explode if he fell any harder for her.

“All y’had t’do was ask, Principessa,” he pressed his lips to the crown of her head. Her skin was so soft and he had blindly felt every inch of her in their late night make out session. He kissed her repeatedly until his lips were sore and the tug on his own lips from hers got weaker. “’D’ve been at y’door any time,” he promised.

“I really thought you were mad at me last night,” she whispered sadly.

“You?” He shook his head. “Can’t imagine a way, la mia dolcezza.”

Her heart ached so badly for him.

They shared at least a thousand more kisses. Her breathing was erratic when Niall knocked on the door and Harry managed to calmly answer him. His body was hovering above hers, his hips locked between her thighs. “M’heading out,” he called.

“Bye Niall,” Harry said without an ounce of suggestion that they were doing anything other than playing a board game. She was astounded he could keep his composure like that. Maybe she wasn’t so good at kissing him like she had hoped (but Harry assured her it had nothing to do with that, but he just wanted Niall to go away faster).

“Bye Tesorino,” he called with a smile in his voice. Her voice felt shaky when she answered (even though Harry assured her many times over that Niall had no idea she was breathless from kissing).

Harry’s body was lean but sinewy. His boxer briefs pulled tight around what had to be... she couldn’t think about his penis too long or she would be done for. But she could feel his hard length grinding against her core as he kissed her and kissed her for way longer than she thought she’d be able to emotionally handle after a day spent with her family and finding out her stalker was back.

Eventually her stomach signaled to the pair of them that it was time to eat again. Harry headed to the kitchen to get something ready for her. “S’no garlic bread and eggplant,” he shrugged with a wry smile handing her a plate with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and celery sticks.

She never wanted to leave.

“M’gonna, shower, kitten,” he kissed her forehead. “Shout if y’need something, yeah?”

“Or if I want to join?” She asked, batting her eyelashes up at him innocently.

He groaned. “Don’t tempt me, Principessa,” he kissed her quickly on the lips. Fortunately, Eleanor texted her to keep her occupied the length of his shower.

Do you live there now?

She put the phone to her ear and Eleanor answered on the second ring. “I don’t live here.”

“You haven’t left yet. Which is awfully suspicious.”

She smirked and rolled her eyes. “He spent the day with my family yesterday,” she said softly. “Emma called me a bossy bitch and he told her that it wasn’t very nice,” she swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat—the same one she had yesterday when she overheard the conversation. “And he met Ethan—”

“Jesus Christ,” she whispered back.

“—El, he’s...” she sighed shaking her head. “He’s wonderful.”

“I know. We’ve been waiting for you to notice!”

She rolled her eyes but chatted with El for the length of his shower. The sound of the water running eventually stopped and she promised Eleanor to call her again with a better update.

Harry returned to his room with a towel wrapped on his hips and even though she had spent all night and morning pressed to his mostly naked body, save the boxers, this was somehow more naked. Her heart was flying, and she tried not to stare. “Could I also shower?”

He chuckled. “Course, kitten. Let me get you a towel.”

She wished she was cheekier to ask him for his. But instead, she took the time to let the hot water run over her body and further forget about the crazy day she had yesterday. The difference between the state of her brother’s bathroom versus Harry’s was immense. She wanted to send a picture to him and Ethan explaining what their bathroom was supposed to look like, but she didn’t want him to know she was in Harry’s bathroom.

Once showered and dressed, Harry was waiting in the living room. He smiled at the sight of her, dressed in leggings and a dress that fell just above her knees. She looked beautiful, simply put. Even with wet hair he swore she could be a model. (But she strongly denied such a statement when he voiced it to her). She settled herself next to him. Snuggling into his embrace. The afternoon was quiet. He kissed the top of her head every so often while running his hand up and down her arm. She suggested reading for a while and Harry thought it was adorable and sweet. Her face was concentrated while her eyes scanned the pages. A pucker between her eyebrows. Harry thought she was adorable. It was hard to concentrate on his own book when she was in his house, on his couch, sitting so close to him.

About an hour before Harry mentioned they needed to leave for him to head to work, she noticed a shift in him. It was like the night before. When he didn’t hold her hand in the car and when he seemed so...cold. It was almost subtle, the way his body language and demeanor changed. Although they spent the better part of the day in silence (between reading and kissing) the silence within the last hour before they left was tense and cold.

Harry held the door open to his car again. She thanked him graciously. “Oh... I forgot my stuff,” she realized. The distraction of his change in attitude had thrown her off again. It was hard to think straight. She meant to take it with her when they left but, in the moment, Harry had asked if she was ready to go and his voice was so flat, so devoid of inflection, she wondered if he had been replaced with someone else that looked like him.

He cleared his throat putting the car in reverse despite the predicament. “M’bringing y’back here,” he shrugged.

She frowned. “Oh.”

Tense silence ensued. Biting the inside of her lip, she wanted to be braver and reach out and grab his hand. Just like the night before and try to squeeze his fingers between hers. It felt unfair they had to leave their bubble of peace and quiet. Heading to the restaurant—especially knowing he might show up—was obviously ruining whatever was happening here between her and Harry.

He parked outside the restaurant, the sidewalk filling with people for the Saturday dinner rush. Harry scanned as quickly as he could and took a deep breath. “Do y’see him?”

She swallowed and shook her head. She knew she would know if he was there. It happened every time he was around. It was like his gaze was magnetic toward her and there was nothing like the sense of someone staring at her. “Are y’okay?” He asked. “I can take y’back t’my place.”

The thought of being alone in Harry and Niall’s house while Harry was working seemed agonizing. He wouldn’t be home until midnight—maybe later. She bit the inside of her cheek and shook her head. “I’m fine,” she promised.

“Principessa,” his voice was gentle.

“You didn’t hold my hand,” she whispered. “Again.”

Harry sighed, ran a hand over his face and then tapped his hands on the steering wheel. “M’sorry. But...m’scared,” he admitted. “M’going t’do anything t’protect you, my love,” he promised. It felt like her heart skipped a beat at the new pet name. “But, m’really scared,” he admitted. “If something happens t’you...” he shook his head. “I feel like...like I just got you,” of course he did. He did just get her. It was barely twenty-four hours ago that he had kissed her for the first time. “There’s so much I want t’know ‘bout you. So much I want t’spend time learning and m’jus,’” he shook his head. “S’not fair.”

It wasn’t fair. Harry didn’t deserve this. He deserved easy. Deserved a girl that didn’t have a crazy loud family or a stalker. Harry deserved a pretty girl that... wasn’t her. “Nothing is going to happen to me,” she whispered. It was nice that her voice sounded more courageous than she felt.

“Principessa,” he looked at her pointedly. He reached out, cupped her face softly and skimmed his thumb along her cheek. “You are deflecting,” he said knowingly, a sad smirk on the corner of his mouth. “Trying t’get me not t’worry ‘bout you.”

It felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. She did it implicitly without even her brain acknowledging it. She looked at her lap even though Harry still held the side of her face to keep her from moving. “You...you don’t need to.”

“M’always going t’worry ‘bout you, Principessa,” it sounded like a promise.

No one ever worried about her. Except maybe Eleanor—but mostly about the stalker and not much else. Not in a bad way, Eleanor just knew she was okay aside from that . But Mom and Dad depended on her for everything. Growing up she did way more than was expected of her. Carrying a weight on her shoulders that she didn’t know she could hold. James and Emma did the same thing. They didn’t even mean to, it just happened. She didn’t need to be worried about by other people. She was the worrier. Like it was her job. We don’t need to worry about her. She’s lovely. Every parent-teacher conference. Every guidance counselor. Every supervisor or boss. No one ever worried about her.

But here was Harry.

The emotion in her throat felt like it was tying her vocal cords together. She nodded silently. “Okay,” she whispered.

“What do y’want t’do?” He asked softly. He could see something wracking her brain. Something making her spin out internally. He wanted to read her mind more than he wanted anything in the world. Wanted to know what she was trying to keep from him.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. That was probably as close as he could possibly get to reading her mind.

“Okay,” he grabbed her hand with the one not holding her face. His gaze dropped to her eyes, and he applied gentle pressure to the side of her face. A reminder he wanted her to maintain the eye contact she was obviously nervous to hold. “Then m’going t’make a few decisions for you. If y’don’t like it, y’don’t have t’do it, alright?” She nodded. She wasn’t sure anyone in her life had ever given her direction before. It felt weird just imagining. Always the decision maker, always a leader, never a follower. “I’d like y’to hang in the kitchen. Y’can work or whatever. M’sure there’s stuff t’do. When we’re done, I want you t’come home with me again,” he scanned her face for anything that might upset her. “S’that sound alright?”

She nodded silently. It did sound nice. “Can...can I check a couple things I didn’t get yesterday?”

“Of course,” he nodded. “M’not...” he sighed. “M’not ordering you that y’have t’do this. M’jus’ trying t’make this easier on me and you,” his voice was gentle, of course it was. She nodded.

“I know, I appreciate it,” sincerity thick in her voice.

“One last thing,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her forehead.

She pulled back, away from his mouth so she could look up at him expectantly and he smiled, the first real smile since his demeanor changed with the thought of heading back to work, her apartment, and essentially, the scene of the crime. “If y’want t’hold m’hand, you jus’ have t’reach out and grab it, Principessa. M’all yours,” he promised and kissed her forehead again before dropping her hand and her face to exit the car.

When there was a lull, she told Harry she was going to head upstairs and check on a few things. He responded with a half-smile. It was so sexy it made a shock short through her. Her hands smelled like garlic from peeling cloves of it and her eyes kept watering from chopping shallots, so she knew her mascara was smudged. But Harry was looking at her as if she was made out of Christmas lights, sunsets, flowers, and anything else that was beautiful.

“Principessa,” he said quickly stepping away from the flutter of activity of the main part of the kitchen. “You’re sure he’s not here?” He asked again.

She nodded. “I’m sure,” she promised. “I wouldn’t...I wouldn’t go up there alone if he was.”

“Okay,” he pecked her cheek. “Jus’ call if there’s a problem, yeah?”

She smiled assuredly. “Of course.”

She headed to the front of the restaurant, sidestepping the waiting customers and realized her car still wasn’t there. In her hot kisses and time spent with Harry, she forgot completely that her car was still at the shop. Nonetheless, she went to her mailbox—blended in with the other businesses nearby and unlocked it with a small key. The complaints of the wait were minimal—even in the February degree temperatures. “There’s a really hot chef here,” a girl about her age muttered to her friend.

She smirked excited to tell Harry about the compliment. Fortunately, the alleyway still wasn’t creepy. Neither was the stairwell to her apartment. Both miracles because she was a little worried that might happen and another reason why she wanted to get the mail before heading down the small space. Everything in her apartment was in the very same place.

She sighed and sat on her couch with the pile of mail. Since most of her important mail was online, she didn’t really go to the mailbox all that often. She grabbed a notepad of paper she had been using interchangeably for a grocery list and to do list. She pulled the top layer off which read eggs, milk, bread, standard things she always needed. The grocery list went on her coffee table, and she started scribbling a second list. Chores she needed to get done around here, in theory tomorrow. She was pretty sure she could convince Harry to take her home earlier while he did prep work.

The car needed to be dealt with Monday—especially if she was to drive herself to work in the office on Thursday. She added a couple details about work and then sifted through the envelopes. Not much mail was delivered to the apartment. There was the standard issued fliers for the grocery store, which she set aside to clip coupons. Mostly junk mail and letters asking for donations. Her W-2 arrived—finally. It turned out that HR didn’t finalize her new address when she moved above Dolcezza. Which was a good thing in some ways, but she wanted to get her taxes done sooner rather than later—which was then added to her do list now that she had the paperwork to do it. While she went through the remaining envelopes, scanning expiration dates for coupons she might not have gotten to in time, she decided to answer her text messages she had missed.

Thanks for the help, little love. Her mom had texted. It was nice to meet Harry.

Her cheeks heated up as she slid her finger in the envelopes making piles of trash and things to add to different files. Coupons for her favorite retailers also made a significant little pile.

Always, Momma.

Thanks for the cupcakes. Emma had messaged her at about noon. Probably in the middle of the bake sale, but at the time she was making out with Harry and completely forgot to respond. She tried to remember if Emma had ever texted her thanks, ever.

No problem, Em! I'd do anything for you. She hoped she already knew that but after overhearing her talk to Harry, she wasn't so sure, and wanted to be clearer.

There were two messages from Eleanor that she would get to later, still. She didn’t need to open the thread to know she was asking for details about Harry that she wasn’t sure she was ready to answer yet. The final missed messages came from the three-person chat that included James and Ethan. It was a picture of a freshly cleaned bathroom. A candle lit and new fluffy hand towels.

Would you sleepover with me now? Ethan asked.

She rolled her eyes and snorted. James sent a vomiting emoji.

No, but I wouldn’t hate having to pee there.

Ethan answered immediately. Even after her long delay. Hot, with a heart-eye emoji.

You need help.

Quit hitting on my sister!

She honestly couldn’t wait to show Harry the messages. It was funny.

For a moment she forgot about the weekend. The craziness of it all. She was simply going through her mail, smelling the garlic and olive oil rising from the restaurant. Harry was down there waiting anxiously for her to get back, she was sure.

So, in the forgetfulness of the crazy weekend, it was a bit jarring to look at the last piece of mail she had pulled from the envelope and see herself in a picture of the little alleyway from about a week prior. Her work bag on her shoulder and a coffee cup in hand. She had stooped to pick up a package outside the entry way of the door up to her place. There was a small note behind the picture. A scrap piece of paper, really.

It took her a moment to realize it wasn’t because the writing was illegible, but because her hand was shaking while she held it, her eyes blurring with tears.

I knew I’d find you again. I missed you.

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dreamyvill · 10 months ago

Text

Heart stopper

Angst no comfort

Not proof read

Everything went wrong so horrifically wrong, everything else horribly wrong, felt wrong the air that had been pushed into your lungs replacing the air that had been knocked out of you when you realized you’d been ambushed and the comms had been intercepted and he couldn’t hear you. How you heart was so erratic you’d bet it had to rock it’s self and count to ten to calm down after everything had settled. All the air that passed thought shallowly after you’d made your choice. Bold

Now here you were aching and screaming at the top of your lungs at the man you’d die for at any minute it didn’t matter. “fucking answer me” you said calmly trying to soothe your aching arm and heart. This felt like when you had did somthing bad and you thought someone knew and you were just waiting for the shoe to drop the anxiety you felt at the bottom of your heart and to the tops of your soul and being in every form it could possibly take.

Silence. It was infuriating “fucking answer me now” you screamed your sweet voice now high pitched and bare utterly agnostic on the eyes of everyone. Good you wanted him to suffer as you heart is…

“Luv’ m’trying to help” Simon bowed his head scared not from a physical threat or anything like that, scared of your tone you’d never spoken to anyone like that before not when you were barking orders at subordinates and not when interacting with the enemy for information. He’d much rather those voices than this. “Then fucking answer me then! Are you in love with Her”.

Bitter

“Love m’sorry” he tried to plead with you it felt like a firefighter trying to talk someone down from a cliff after the ink dried on all there notes stamped and in route. “Yes or no” you sour voice asked eyes narrowed and soppy. Hoping a quick nod would free him a swift yes of the head stepping forward trying to touch you. Bluntly stepping back chest rising and falling hard.

“Why? And don’t give me no bullshit about how you can’t help who you fall in love with that’s bullshit!” How could he love her she’d done nothing toe arm his love she wasn’t there for him how you were.

“She- she what huh what the hell did she do to deserve that?” You interrupted her was taking too long and it was pissing you off like he had a long list of reasons he was considering. “Please I don’t want to hurt you” he pleaded he never begged like this. “Mission failed bitch what is it huh” you needed a reason and he was stuck.

“She wasn’t there for you, she wasn’t the one who stood by you through the last ten months, the night terrors the ptsd. You didn’t fuck and make love to her for seven months straight sleeping next to her, waking up with her breakfast all that shit.” Did you mean nothing to him did all of that mean nothing.

“I would die for you I just took a fucking bullet for you, not because I had to but because I love you that’s not nothing there aren’t many people who would do that for love.” You had just jumped in front of a bullet to save him to make sure he didn’t die in the face of the enemy.

The coms had been jammed and there were more and more people approaching him, in a stupid act of love you raced over to his aid to see him down but fighting as well as fading into death. Fighting for him, beside him ready to give your life to save or die with him once the gun smoke cleared and you drug his limp body on one good leg and shoulder to the evac site shedding tear after tear for him praying to a god you were sure had domed you years ago. Pleading with him not to fade away in your arms an “I love you” on the top of your tongue when he asks for her.

“it’s everything” he whispered hearing how your heart broke right in front of him love gone like he had almost been.

“I hate you Simon”

#simon riley x reader #141 x reader #cod x black reader #ghost cod #ghost x honey #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x black reader #cod modern warfare #cod mw3 #ghost smut #angst #angst no happy ending #angst no comfort #cod angst #simon riley angst #john price angst

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ohbo-ohno · 1 year ago

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Hi, I love your writing so so so so so much and it's like my goal in life to get as good as writing as you, but I was just wanting to ask if you would write a ghoap puppy play drabble but with a ftm reader, I don't wanna make you uncomfortable but I actually can't find any puppy play stuff with a ftm reader in it and I would literally worship the ground you walk on if you did (if you don't feel comfortable doing this please don't)

yknow i dont take requests but you're actually the sweetest person alive (and i want to write puppy play rn) so sure!!! tysm for such kind words <3 (also your goal should be to get 10x better than me but i love you anyway)

1.8k of ghoap x ftm!reader with puppy play :) words used for reader's genitalia are cunt, hole, and cock (also reader is called pretty once)

It's a struggle not to beg, but you're a good boy. You stay still on your knees, paws resting on the wood below you, and you focus all of your attention on staying good.

Johnny's not good. Johnny's never a good boy, and usually that's a blessing for you, but right now it's a curse.

A whine slips from your lips, unintentional but loud. You lick your lips, swallow, and try to settle. Still, you've drawn Ghost's attention.

His hand stills in the air and he cocks an eyebrow. "Need somethin', pup?"

You lick your lips beneath the wire muzzle, shake your head. You don't need anything, you only want his hands on you. Simon's the only one who decides what you want.

He lands another smack against Johnny's bared ass, and the other pup wriggles on his lap, eyes screwed up - in pain or pleasure, you can't tell.

"Look'it him," Ghost rumbles, grabbing Johnny by the mohawk and forcing him to look at where you're knelt several feet away. "He's gotta wait for his turn because you can't remember how to be good. That seem fair?" He shakes Johnny's head for him, and you catch him smirk when Johnny whines. "You'd be barkin' and howlin' like I'd fuckin' shot you if your positions were reversed, but he's sitting there, nice and pretty."

You shift on your knees, padded hands tapping the floor in an effort to expel any of your energy. You pant with your mouth wide open, keep your eyes locked on Ghost, trying to ignore the clenching of your hole on nothing but air.

"Poor puppy," Ghost coos, voice edging into that part-affectionate part-condescending tone that makes you drip. "Having to watch me punish Johnny, when you should be getting all my attention. Is not fair, is it?"

That's a trick question, you know it. Anything Simon decides is fair, that's how this works, and you know intuitively that there's no right answer.

You whine, then yip, leaning forward a bit.

He laughs, letting go of Johnny's head and delivering another blow, this one making Johnny wail from behind his own muzzle.

"Little longer, pup," Ghost calls over Johnny's cries, every smack nearly as loud. "Just keep bein' good for me."

You can't help your noises as you watch Johnny's punishment, but you don't move. Your hips rock against the air, but you don't try and push your paws against your cock, don't try and get yourself off without permission.

You're good, you're a good boy. Ghost said so.

You try to keep your breathing even, try to keep yourself away from that cliff-edge of desperation that can get you in trouble, but it's almost impossible with the show you're watching

Johnny's face is red, streaked with tears as he takes his punishment. His thighs and ass are the same shade of red, and the cock hanging between Ghost's spread knees matches too. He's kept hard by the black cock ring at his base, but you know he doesn't need it. His feet kick and push at the couch cushions to no avail, his mitted hands punching and pushing at the arm of the couch.

He's more muted than you, his muzzle a thick leather instead of wire, but you can still hear the way he cries. Johnny's always been loud, and he's not shy about voicing his displeasure.

Eventually, Simon begins to slow his strokes, the sound of his slaps becoming quieter and the time between each one lengthening. Johnny's cries quiet to sniffles, and you shift forward even more, knowing what's coming.

You just barely manage to hold back a whine.

"See?" Ghost rumbles, stroking up and down Johnny's sweat-slick back. "You're alright, hush now. You bring it on yourself, Johnny. Wouldn't need a punishment if you could behave more than five minutes."

His eyes shift up to yours, and you can't bite back the whine this time. Ghost smiles at you as he shifts Johnny from his lap to the floor.

"Nothing like you, huh pup?" He raises a hand, motions you forward, and you're quick to crawl to him. You shove your head into his hand, melting into the scratches through your hair. Soap stays hunched on the floor next to you, head resting on Ghost's knee as he catches your breath.

"Yeah, you're my well-behaved puppy. Nothing like the mutt, hm?" You lean further into his hand, smiling when he chuckles and gives you the pets you desperately want. "My well trained pure-bred, hm? Maybe I should enter you in shows, let everyone see how perfect you are."

Johnny whines from next to you, digging his face further into Ghost's knee. Simon scoffs, but pets him too.

"Nah, couldn't do that with you, mutt. You'd embarrass me just for the punishment." His words are mean but Ghost's tone is soft, and Johnny's eyes nearly roll back in his head at the soft scratches to his scalp. "But you'd be jealous if he got all the attention, wouldn't you?" Ghost sighs, then uses his hands to push the both of you in so your muzzled cheeks are pressed together. "Guess I'll have to keep you all for myself."

Despite your own arousal, it's not too difficult for you to sit and wait while Ghost coaxes Johnny out of his punishment-headspace. It's nice to float in the softness, so rare with the three of you, and you're content with Ghost's hand on your head.

Eventually, he moves away.

"Alright, you want your treat, pup?"

You blink hazy eyes open, shifting to try and follow his hand with a whine. He smiles at you, and grabs you by the nape of the neck to guide you more fully between his legs.

"C'mon, don't you want a reward for bein' a good boy? I think Johnny deserves one too, for takin' his punishment so well."

Soap is quicker to perk up than you, quickly crawling so he's behind you. Realizing what's going on, you sit up more fully on your knees and brace your paws on Ghost's thighs, looking up at him and smiling.

"Pretty thing," he coos. "Don't worry, you'll get to come. Johnny." He snaps, the sound loud right next to your ear. "Go on. Mount him."

Johnny doesn't have the self-control to give you time to adjust, or to go slowly. One minute you're empty and aching, the next you're stuffed to the brim and stretched wide around Johnny's cock.

You both moan, and you feel the leather of his muzzle bump against your naked shoulder. You melt into the space between Ghost's thighs, eye-level with his cock tugged out of his pants as Johnny fucks you without giving you any time to adjust.

You whine loudly, eyes screwing shut at the near painful drag of his cock in and out of your hole. It's good to be filled, satisfying an ache that you've been fighting for what feels like hours, but your body can't help but fight the intrusion, pushing you further up on your knees and making you look up at Ghost for comfort.

He only smirks and pets a hand through your hair as Johnny snarls at your attempt to get away, paws landing on your shoulders and pushing you down into his ruthless thrusts. He snarls at your yelp, wide even behind the muzzle.

"You're alright," Ghost says, hand guiding your head to rest on his inner thighs. "We both know you like it rough, pup, be a good boy and let Johnny give you what you need."

He's right, Ghost is always right, and it doesn't take long for the sharp stretch to turn to pleasure, for the heavy drag of Johnny's cock in and out of you to leave you moaning instead of whining.

You pant with an open mouth, tongue lolling out to rest on your tongue as you try and breathe through the fucking, brain scrambled. Johnny's just as loud behind you, snarls and grunts and moans slipping through the leather as he bullies himself inside of you.

"There ya go, good boy," Ghost rumbles, giving you a solid pat. "Both of you, my two good boys. You're fuckin' him so good, Johnny, giving him such a good treat."

You work your hips against Johnny, pushing back in search for more pleasure, and whine high in your throat when it's still not enough.

"Y'need more, puppy?" Ghost asks, and you nod yes as vigorously as you can with your whole body being rocked in place.

"Here," he grunts as he shifts, moving one leg between your thighs and pressing his boot against your cock. You melt at the sensation, shoving yourself up and grinding against the strings. Your cries are almost deafening as Johnny's thrusts don't falter, the combination of stimulation heavenly.

"Go on, get yourself off. You've earned it."

You don't last long after that. You work your hips against his boot, the texture rough but perfect against your slick and swollen cock, sensitive hole still pounded mercilessly by Johnny. You feel insane with pleasure, eyes rolled back in your head and drool slipping endlessly down your chin as you let yourself drown in in.

You clench hard around Johnny when you finally come, cunt clenching him and milking him for all he's worth. He howls from behind his muzzle, pressing his face along your neck. You know if his mouth was free he'd be marking you, sucking bruises into your skin and covering you in his spit. You almost whine at the lack of it.

But you're far too drenched in your own euphoria to miss anything, really, your only focus on pushing yourself to higher heights of pleasure.

You float down, eventually, but you're immediately thrown into overstimulation as Johnny's pace continues exactly as it was. He continues to pound into your mercilessly, the sound of your slick shameful in the quiet room.

You paw in a panic at Ghost's thighs, looking up at him with wide eyes as you press closer to try and get away from the cock rearranging your insides. He only smirks and presses his boot up, the pressure against your cock so soon after an orgasm absolute torture.

"Let Johnny have his treat now," he scolds lightly, giving you a slight tap to your cheek that has you trying to nuzzle yourself into the crease between his thighs and hip. "Maybe he'll manage to get off, even with that pretty ring on his cock. Let's let him try, hm?"

You look up at him with vision blurred by tears, whining as you balance the sharp edge of pleasure-pain from Johnny's minstrations.

Ghost only smirks, petting you again. "Hang tight, pup. Be a good boy for me, let our other boy have his fun."

You whine, and bury your face next to his cock, trying to breathe evenly as Johnny only drives himself more and more insane inside your cunt.

#i really don't mind writing male reader stuff it's just not my default with cod for some reason #but i never imagine myself as my reader-inserts so it doesn't change much for me lol #asks and answers #ghoap x reader #ghoap x male reader #male reader #bo writes

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