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queers-gambit · 1 year ago

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Mother Knows No Bounds

prompt: you are Rhaenyra's daughter, married to Prince Aemond, and the subject of Alicent's hatred. one day, she takes it too far.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader -> technically Velaryon!wife!reader, but you can pick and choose

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.7k+

note: 10,000 points to your Hogwarts House if you can find the Lord of the Rings quote

warnings: cursing, vilified!Alicent, Aemond needs his big brother. descriptions of potentially triggering content: miscarriages, natural abortions, toxic family being toxic; um is this technically neglect? abuse? potentially triggering description of medical phenomenons, i guess OC Aemond ?

please note again and do not proceed if you are triggered by any of the following content: descriptions of potentially triggering content: miscarriages, natural abortions, involuntary termination, depiction of medical procedure.

you are not missing anything by skipping this, please value your comfort!

The city had come to a screeching halt the moment extreme temperatures skyrocketed, citizens unable to bear the scorching sun during waking, working hours. It was only the brave, stupid, poor, or accommodated persons that dared venture about their lives when the heat index had tripled; silent, since the heat was so sweltering, nobody wanted to add to it by talking. Even the animals were quiet and scarce around the streets, most seeking shelter under any shade they could find.

Women skinny dipped. Children ran around without their clothes. Men forewent any and all armor, most even going shirtless.

The guards were on short patrols and constantly rotated to try and save them from heatstroke. The fishermen all left port to spend time on the water since it was cooler than being on land. Whores wore less than ever before. Vendors constructed makeshift fans for their own air current.

The temperature spike was truly murderous. At dusk, gravediggers traveled the city with a bell and horse-toted cart, announcing if anyone wanted their dead disposed of, now was the time. The heat caused any elderly to dehydrate, their hearts simply stopping; and for young children to overheat and catch too-high fevers.

It was a dreadful time to be alive in King's Landing because the city had next to no coverage, so, the sun beat down on citizens in a suffocating, unbearable, offensive manner. None stood a chance: the young, old, rich, poor, everyone was a target.

For some reason, the fat Lords of the Realm had demanded the King hold court to voice their complaints; temperatures making many operate on short fuses. However, due to his sickly, deteriorating state and wicked weather, King Viserys was unable to sit the Throne; the responsibility falling onto the Hand of the King, Otto Hightower. And because she was Queen, his daughter, Alicent was always in attendance.

Yet for some reason, she had sent guards and servants to retrieve her children - including you.

You'd been married to Aemond about 21 months, and while a seemingly short time, certain single days felt more like three when loved by a man you considered your best friend. You had known the One Eyed Prince back when he had no need for an eyepatch, sapphire, or silly nickname, and for years, you were decent friends before growing to attach at the hip. He was kind, sweet, intelligent, and best of all, he was a wildly good listener. Even as a child, he didn't talk too much, but still more than he did now; and all his life, he was simply a listener. It made for a peaceful and trustworthy marriage.

21 months of marriage, and now, (almost) 7 months pregnant.

Aemond was over the moon with pride, joy, and excitement when you told him the news. He was eager to meet the babe, and the moment he learned, Aemond started gathering whatever material and furniture he could. He commissioned 11 Septas to knit a series of baby blankets; most with Targaryen colors and / or design. Otto was happy to see his grandson looking forward to married life, and Helaena was elated for you both. She's always liked you like a sister, always thought you were kind, just, and fair, with a healthy balance of being stubborn - all topped off with heaping loyalty. To everyone's surprise, even Aegon sincerely offered congratulations to you both when you broke the joyful news, telling you and Aemond he was excited to meet his newest niece or nephew.

However, amongst the fanfare and triumph, two women remained permanently dismayed by the entire marriage that the prospect of a child genuinely angered them.

The first woman was your mother, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, but she was annoyed simply because she knew the Targaryen Curse was real and thought this was not something you should endure. You were her firstborn, her brightest star, her dearest love; she worried herself to the brim about you, and while she respected your marriage, she's never offered approval.

The second woman was Aemond's mother, Queen Alicent Hightower, who chose to silently seeth to herself (for a time) instead of voicing any opinion or emotion. Years ago, she and your mother were the closest of friends, and after she married Viserys, Alicent lost her friend and the tension has only festered from there. However, now that Rhaenyra was living on Dragonstone, you were the only person close enough to take the brunt end of Alicent's anger and she found new ways to project that. Simply put, she despised you - but she would've hated whoever "took" her (unofficial) favorite child "from" her; who became the leading lady in his life. Alicent's anger was justified, but only towards Rhaenyra - not you.

Yet communication and emotional intelligence was rare in this day.

Alicent knew you were innocent of everything. Yet somedays, she could not restrain her anger and would lash out like a dog chained-up; but you had thick skin. You always endured her quick jabs, sharp tongue, and snarling insults because you loved and respected Aemond too much to bite back at his mother. However, while most days, Alicent was amicable, some days, she was a downright bitch, and other days, she was absolutely diabolical.

Alicent's anger took over and when this happened, she was powerless towards impulse; resulting in usually terribly stressful events that honestly have no business being so fucking stressful - or even further, by becoming catastrophic. For example, years ago, when Luke cut Aemond's eye from his socket, she took the King's dagger from his person and tried to attack Rhaenyra. She ended up slicing the Crowned Princess' forearm, but far more damage was already done, and nothing would ever be the same.

Alicent's anger often blinded her and drove her to impulsive decisions or reactions, and this today, in this heatwave, she went too far.

You were sat in your bedchambers, Aemond at your side as you both listened to a sweating Grand Maester; both your hand and your husband's resting on the curve of your pregnant belly.

"Now, remember, Princess, in these conditions, it's important to lay low for the sake of your health and the baby's. Don't be on your feet in the heat too long, don't exert yourself, drink more water than you usually would, and rest as much as possible." He handed you a tea bag, explaining, "For the nerves before bed."

"Thank you," you agreed, taking what he offered. Aemond saw the Grand Maester out of your chambers as you sighed, using a handheld fan to wave cooler air over your face.

"It's criminal, this heat. Gotta get someone in here with a fan," Aemond mumbled to himself, leading you to a lounge chair to rest on. "Can I get you anything, sweet love?"

"Water, if you'd please," you smiled.

He agreed and stood, but just then, a knock sounded at the door. "Come in," Aemond permitted, moving to the table in the room to pour you a goblet of water. The guard who entered wasn't known to you by name, but Aemond greeted him casually, "Ser Mythos. What do we own this pleasure?"

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"Do you know why?" Aemond grit.

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"I've asked you why."

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"Fuck's sake," you snapped, "we heard you! Yeah? Gods," you cursed, head tilted back in annoyance; eyes squeezing shut as your child kicked your bladder.

"The Queen has requested you both in the Throne Room, my Lady and my Prince."

Aemond glanced at you, sighed shortly through his nose, then turned to Ser Mythos to snap, "I will be along shortly, but my wife was told to rest in this heat for our baby's health. We'll need palms brought in for fanning."

"And the Queen has requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince, both of you. Both, my Prince, both."

Your eyes rolled, telling Aemond, "I think the Queen wants us both, my love." Then shifted your glare towards the messenger, sounding as tired as you looked, "All right, fine, fine, fine, fucking fine, give us a moment to dress and we will be there presently."

"My Lady," the guard accepted, turned, and left the room.

"What could Mother want with us both?" Aemond snipped at you when the door shut with an echoing-clang.

"Does it matter? She's called for us," you frowned.

"They can at least call you by your proper title - we are married now. You are a Princess of the City, they should address you as such."

You waved him off, "Who cares about that? C'mere. Help me up, my love, please. Your kid's sitting heavy."

You and Aemond dressed for court in thin clothing before fixing your hair so it didn't cling to either of your necks. It was already far too warm to even think properly, and surely, nobody would judge if you attended court with your hair pulled up, nor judge Aemond for the fashionably bun you convinced him to wear. No make-up was used, no heels; no corset, nor any pinch of leather. Aemond didn't like the last bit, but you were stern in your worry, telling him that leather would retain his body heat and today was already stifling enough.

When ready, you vacated your chambers and walked to the Throne Room, seeing it filled with a sizable crowd that surely would do nothing to help the sticky heat hanging in the air. Aemond held your hand tightly with his head held high to lead you towards his mother, who stood at the base of the Iron Throne. When close enough, Aemond asked, "You called for us, Your Grace?"

"I did," she eyed you both. "This is a good learning opportunity for you both, I thought it best we were all here."

"Mother, it's too hot for - "

"We are all suffering the same heat," she cut Aemond off.

"Yes, but my wife is pregnant, Mother. The Maester told her to rest, not stand in court with a hundred bloody people."

"You mean to tell me she has a higher priority than - "

"Yes. That is what I am saying, Mother. My wife certainly has priority over everything else as far as I am concerned."

Alicent shook her head, "For as long as we hold places in court, we will attend court. All of us, as a united family. Now, pay attention, you both will hold places here after King Viserys, best you know this all now."

So, you stood there like an obedient dog as slowly, one person after another approached the Throne to tell Ser Otto Hightower their grievances. They yapped up all the advice and court rulings; Aemond standing at your side, and while he was listening to what was being said, he also kept an eye on you out of sheer worry. There was no air to blow, no window to open; mediocre fans and palms brought in to manually wave by a few sets of servants. Yet it wasn't enough.

Sweat bulleted on brows. Pale cheeks flushed with heat. Legs started to shake from stress. Clothes dampened and clung to skin.

You were all of the above and then some!

The heat felt criminally offensive, and you knew you wore your displeasure on your face. Discomfort while pregnant isn't easy to hide, your hand smoothing over your belly as you exhaled a slow, calming breath that did literally nothing to aid your tangible anger. The common folk still reported to Otto, but you knew this was far from over, trying to blink back your discomfort as your stomach churned; twisted; started to cramp with increasingly stabbing pain. The heat festered a headache and soon, the nausea set in.

Taking another deep, long breath, you focused on the man complaining about his neighbor stealing his crops, his silver, and how the other man was fucking his wife - in his very own barn! The man asked for permission to sentence the neighbor to trial by combat, and for the life of you, you could not understand why you needed to be present for this.

Another farmer came up, saying there were too many maggots in his fields and needed the King's coin to bring in specialized mulch for himself and all the farmers in all of the Riverlands - who were plagued by this contagious maggot infestation.

Some Lord of Some Lineage From Some Castle of Some Place came up and asked for an increased patrol of "the King's Men", sell swords sent to "keep the King's peace." A group with radically different tactics than Daemon's Gold Cloaks.

This "Some Lord of Some Lineage From Some Castle of Some Place" even presented his daughter, saying she was fit to marry the Prince Aemond. Eyes turned to you and for whatever reason, you felt embarrassed by the sudden attention. So, you shied away from it, shifting slightly closer to Aemond as Otto spoke with a bored expression, "Prince Aemond is wedded already. As is his brother, Prince Aegon."

"What 'bout the li'l one?"

"Pardon?" Otto blinked.

"The Queen's last son?"

"With respect, my Lord, our son is still a child learning the ways of the world and is no way fit to marry quite yet," Alicent cut in, your feet going numb and making you sway slightly. "The Crown has learned from other marriage pacts to examine all offers carefully," but Alicent's sharp words flew over your head as something in your stomach pinched sharply like a severe period cramp. Your breathing came out in shudders; holding onto Aemond securely as he looked down at you with worry.

Your entire face, neck, and chest glistened with sweat. It clung to your hair, raced down your chest, and when he got a closer look, he didn't like the discoloration to your skin. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong...

"Then it shall be a long engagement so you might consider my daughter well!" The Lord barked, laughing gruffly. "She is not a disappointment, my Lord Hand."

"The Crown will consider your offer, Lord Peregrin, but the Crown must weigh other presented offers before marrying young Prince Daeron to anyone," Otto spoke diplomatically.

"Aye, I'll offer her dowry. Twenty thousand good men for your army, and I can spare about 500 Gold Dragons."

"Our army? Are we at war?" Otto faked a chuckle, your vision starting to blur but you refused to cause a scene. Your mouth had cotton in it; tongue sticking to your roof and your cramps were getting worse. You sweat so much, it was running down your neck, forehead, shoulders, lips, thighs, chest.

"Well, no, perhaps not in this moment, Lord Hand - Your Grace - but we know the rumors about the King's lineage," the Lord spoke boldly, making your blood boil, but the pain was over-powering your ability to speak. Tears actually coated your eyes. "Prince Aegon should be named the rightful heir to the Throne, so, if the time comes that he needs an army, my daughter's marriage to Prince Daeron would guarantee those men and swords."

Otto sighed as you gulped harshly, wincing in pain, a single tear rolling down your cheek. The cramping intensified, the bolts of pain setting your muscles on fire and radiating into your organs - or so it felt like. The Throne Room was too hot for you to withstand much longer; there was no water, and you'd been standing there going on three hours. Not to mention, you had been throwing up terribly violent in the night and mornings, meaning, you were probably (very likely) very dehydrated and that wasn't good for you nor the baby.

The longer you stood there, the sicker you felt. The longer you stood there, the more Aemond worried. The longer you stood there, the more time you had to develop a strong resentment towards Alicent. Your hand went to your belly, trying to regulate your breathing, but even your dress gave you away - sweat darkening the hemlines. Since finding out you were pregnant, you and Aemond agreed you would no longer wear corsets, and for a whole weekend, he took you to Highgarden to visit the tailors. They created a whole new "maternity wardrobe" that was loose but still womanly by being formfitting. They were made of breathable material, since Highgarden was tropical and often warm; and Aemond adored the sight of your bump.

"Aemond," you whispered, your husband looking down at you but so did Alicent. "I'm not feeling well, my love. I-I need to sit, I need water."

"We're almost done - "

"This is not the time to distract everyone," Alicent snapped quietly at you. "Focus, and let Aemond focus, too, he's the Prince. You don't need him for your every whim."

You only nodded and closed your mouth, clearing your throat of emotion, knowing something didn't wasn't right. It was more than a gut feeling now, you just inherently knew something was wrong. Disconnected. Short circuiting.

The hall was too hot.

Stifling hot. Suffocatingly hot. Stuffy sort of hot.

Overwhelmingly hot.

Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, so fucking hot!

Your nausea got worse to the point you were going to hurl at any moment. You know that feeling? C'mon, yes you do! You start to feel a little shaky, then your mouth starts "sweating" (or watering) and you even get a little clammy; maybe you even start to look gaunt? Maybe your skin changes color? That feeling? Yeah, that's exactly what was happening!

So, to keep calm, you just start taking long, deep breaths. The last thing you wanted to do was panic when surrounded by so many members of court... Then something that felt like urine raced down your inner thighs, yet you barely noticed it, too distracted with keeping upright. Blood puddled beneath your skirts on the stone but nobody noticed yet. More Lords came and went, some Ladies, more and more farmers with trivial disputes. Fathers, sons, uncles, neighbors, you name it!

However, to your earnest shock, when a particularly amusing man came to speak to the King('s Hand), Aegon had glanced at his brother with an amused smirk, but caught sight of you, requiring a double-take. "Brother," Aegon turned from his 'front row seat', showing a rare moment of emotion by looking concerned at your being. "Oh, Gods, fuck," he worried, looking ready to extend his arms to you.

"Fuck," Aemond breathed, turning you to face him. "Can you hear me, sweet love? Hey, hey," he spoke your name, "can you hear me?"

But it was as if you were in a trance. Waves crushed over your ears, sweat rolling down your skin, appearing clammy and as if not in your own body. Aegon jolted forward when your eyes rolled back in your head, knees buckling, forcing your husband to catch you before you began your descent to the ground. When he caught you, it revealed the blood from under your skirts, and when Aemond got you on the ground, he realized your legs were coated in slick, mucus, and both dried and fresh blood; indicating you had been bleeding for hours.

"Call the Maester!" Aemond barked. "Get the bloody Maester!"

"She's bleeding," Aegon pointed out.

"I have eyes to see, brother, I know she is bleeding!" Aemond snapped, his panic tangible. "Love! My sweet love, please, open your eyes, please. Fuck's sake, please, open your eyes - let me see them. Sweetheart, please, c'mon - FUCK! Brother! Brother, help, please, there's blood! There's too much blood! Aegon! What do I do!? Aegon, please! What do I do!?"

"Let her breathe, brother, the Maester's are coming, it's gonna be all right, I-I've heard this can happen. Okay? Just gotta wait for the Maesters, Aemond," Aegon nodded, reaching a hand to his younger brother's shoulder in comfort. Otto descended the Throne to get a closer look as guards surrounded your unconscious body and Aemond's panicked, kneeling form.

"What happened?" Otto demanded.

"She passed out," Helaena frowned in worry, looking as if tears would soon fall. "And there's blood - she's been swaying, I-I think she was ill."

"It's the heat," Aemond snapped, tears down his cheeks. "We were told she needed rest in this temperature, but no." His glare turned to his mother, "We were both expected here."

"You saw the Grand Maester?"

"We did."

"He told her to lie down?" Otto asked, looking and sounding confused.

"To rest," Aemond nodded, supporting your limp head and neck.

When the Grand Maester arrived, he wasted no time in demanding your limp form be brought to his chambers for monitoring and examination. Aemond picked you up and carried you, leaving everyone else behind - or so he thought. The Maester spent a grand total of 43 minutes conducting diagnostic tests, and when the last exam was brought up, he asked Aemond to step out of the room as the examination would turn more intimate.

When Aemond stepped out, he was surprised to see Aegon and Helaena standing there. Aegon instantly pushed off the wall, asking, "Well? How is she? What's happening?"

"One last test," Aemond answered in a low mutter. "What're you doing here?"

"We wanted to make sure you were both all right," Helaena, his sweet sister, answered.

"Mother didn't demand you stay?"

"No, Mother actually called an end to court," Helaena told Aemond. "Grandfather was very angry."

"He was?"

"Never seen him like that," Aegon agreed, telling Aemond of the words Otto raged at Alicent.

When the chamber doors opened, Aemond was invited back inside. He took to your side instantly, but there was a knowing look in your eyes. You never looked at the Maester, only at your husband, as it was explained that due to the heat, you had become dehydrated over time and then spending the day in court, it was just too long a time being on your feet without water or fresh air. You had toppled over the side of heat stroke, the lack of hydration causing you to involuntarily miscarry.

The child would not grow and for your safety and health, the Maester would have to preform essentially what is an abortion to eliminate exposure to rot. Aemond blinked in astonishment, feeling confused about the turn of events, but when he realized you weren't able to respond, he looked at you.

He made the decision, seeing tears streaking your cheeks and the dead look in your eyes.

You were prepped for the procedure and while the Master tried to escort Aemond out, nobody was able to move him from his place at your side. It took the better part of an hour, but when it was over, not only were you given an additional dose of Milk of the Poppy, but Aemond was also given several vials for you in the coming days. He was also given a plethora of herbs, spices, remedies, salves, therapies, and treatments; being given explicit instruction and detail about all he was given, being told when to use what to best help you.

Aemond stooped to pick you up, again, refusing to let anyone else touch you, and the Grand Maester held the door for him. Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, and Otto were all revealed, but Aemond didn't even so much as blink at them; whatever life might've been left lurking behind his eye being completely snuffed out. He made a direct beeline for your chambers with the intention to let you rest in a soft, familiar bed for however long you needed, but he was followed by his family and knew this would be anything but a peaceful time.

"L-Love?" You whimpered when your husband laid you on your marital bed. "Aemond? Aemond?" You asked a little more frantically, being soothed swiftly.

"I'm here, I'm right here, sweetheart," he hushed, ignoring the audience; one hand holding yours as the other pet your hair back. "Hey, just breathe for me, darling, I'm right here. I've got you."

"I-I might be sick," you complained in a whisper, eyes unable to open as sweat bulleted on your skin.

"'S all right," he assured, grabbing a basin to leave on the bed beside you so he could sit at your side. "'M right here, you're not alone."

Aemond watched the way you harshly gulped, a hand dragging up to press to your belly. "W-What happened?" You mumbled, making his heart clench. "I just... There was a lot of heat and then pain." Your eyes finally opened to meet his, "I remember pain, Aemond."

With a glance up at his family, Aemond told you stiffly, "You remember correctly, love. The, uh... The heat was too much for you to handle, sweet girl, and that wasn't your fault." He took a long breath, clutching one of your hands in both of his, "But it was just too much. We couldn't save them... We couldn't save her."

"I-It was a girl?"

"It was," Aemond confirmed, reaching for your other hand to hold tightly. "And you didn't do this. Hmm? You hear me? This is not your doing."

"But my body - "

"No," he refused with a harsh tone. Realizing you were not the one to take his anger out on, he cleared his throat, "Sorry, love, I just," he took a breath. "Listen to me, okay? No, my sweet love, we were told to rest - you and I were told this heat was too much for the babe and that you would need rest. We meant to, we had every intention to follow the Maester's orders, but..." Another pause as he fought off the emotion clawing through his chest. "But for some reason, royal obligation was more important than our family, and Mother refused to let us miss today's court appearance."

"Huh...?" You breathed, still relatively drowsy from the day. But the emotion was real, your husband saw your pain. "What're you talking about, love? Aemond? What's - What the hell happened to our baby? Where's our baby?"

Aemond's jaw steeled and a tear streaked down his cheek as he forced himself to explain, "The Queen demanded our attendance in court today. And standing in the heat for hours cost us our daughter's life. I am so sorry, my sweet love, but we do not have our daughter because she is... She isn't in your womb anymore," his hand laid over your belly, your own automatically following. "She can't ever join us, our family," he spoke slowly, then tearing his glare away from your tired figure to his mother, sneering, "because my mother can't let go of a decades-old feud with a woman no longer living in this very city."

"Aemond," you whispered, heart shattered in your chest but still managing, "do not take this out on her."

"No?" He snapped, still glaring at his mother but clutching your belly, "If not for her, our daughter would still be safe in her mother's womb and we'd still have the chance to one day hold her. But no," he spoke as slowly as he stood to his feet, pulling his hands away from you, "no, we were unjustly denied that chance."

When her (favorite) child faced her with such hatred, dread, distraught, soul-sucking eyes, Alicent frowned with tears in her own eyes. She had so much to say, but only managed, "I did not intend for this."

"This hatred you feel for Rhaenyra is literally costing lives! For the love of all the Gods, my wife is nothing like her mother! They are not one in-the-same, this does not make her your new target to unleash Hell upon - she has done no wrong and yet suffers these heinous consequences!"

"I did not intend for this! You must know that!" She repeated in desperation. "I only wanted you both to partake in your duties - soon, you will be the ones conducting business at court and you must be readied for what may come!"

"That does not give you the right to forfeit her health!"

"How was I to know - "

"The bloody Maester told us - but evidently, the word of the trained professional is not good enough for you!" Aemond raged, something in his heart snapping. "We are denied the right to meet our daughter because, what? What is it? You cannot reach Rhaenyra right now so you will take the closest thing - being my fucking wife!?"

"Aemond," Otto tried to step in, "perhaps this is getting out of hand."

"It was already out of hand," Aegon defended with a sharp snap, "the moment the Maester was ignored."

"You refuse to respect us," Aemond snapped at his mother, everyone silencing themselves when another tear fell down his cheek. "You refuse to respect us, to listen, and all for why? You think you know better than the Maesters? Or because she is daughter of Rhaenyra?"

"Aemond," Alicent warbled through her tears.

"You've gone too far," his head shook, devastation taking hold, "and I do hope you find deliverance from the Gods, because from me? I do not see how I can find a shred of ability to forgive such a sin."

It was quiet. Helaena's head was bowed, Aegon glared at his mother like Aemond; Otto frowned as he avoided all eye contact.

Imagine everyone's surprise when bare feet padded over the stone ground, two shaking hands raising to press into Aemond's stomach from behind. "My love," you mumbled softly, "please, do not speak so hatefully in this prolonged grief. We will do all we can do now and pray on this, but if we want to heal, we will need to learn to forgive. This was not a malicious, thought-out plan executed in partner with the co-conspiring weather; it was a terrible circumstance that the Gods have chosen us to endure. Your mother can pray for forgiveness, she's owed that right; and we will say our own, but I know that one day, we will be blessed and bring a child into this world. Because it's you and I, Aemond, and our child would be the full embodiment of the purest, truest love - and for something that perfect, we'll need time." You took a breath, looking sickly, gaunt; eyes full of tears as you ended, "But it is not this day."

Aemond turned to wrap his arms around you, insisting, "You should be resting." When he got you to turn to move for the bed again, he snarled at his mother, "She's the one who just lost a child and yet still defends you."

"Perhaps it's best we leave them alone," Aegon recommended. "We'll have meals sent for you both," he told his brother with a meaningful nod. "You both just take your time."

"Thank you," Aemond sighed, easing you back to the mattress; laying a single, thin sheet over your body. When Aegon had ushered everyone out, Aemond just stared down at you for a long moment, sighing sadly and whispering, "I'm so sorry, sweet love."

"Just lay with me," you requested.

He moved to strip himself of his linens, the heat still sweltering, and laid beside you; instantly cuddling you into his bare chest. Aemond knew you didn't want to talk, but this needed said, and he whimpered, "This is my fault."

"What?" You gaped, looking up at him in shock. You quickly pulled his leather eye patch off to force his full attention, holding his cheek and demanding, "What did you just say?"

"If you and I did not marry, if I had not pursued you - courted you," he shook his head, brows crinkled from restrained sobs, "we would not be in this position, you would not know this pain. We knew the tension in our family, we knew the hatred between our mothers, and still I wanted you. This is my fault, I shouldn't've done this - you should not have to endure this."

Your hand reached up to caress the side of his face; foreheads pressed together to breathe the same air, warm the same space, sweat onto one another, but never wanting to be apart. It was a sticky embrace but you both needed it, and you hushed, "I regret nothing about us. Nothing, Aemond. If I knew how this would play out, I'd do it all again because I know I love you beyond words. Beyond," you giggled lightly, "rational thought, even. Aemond, everything you are, I adore, and all we are together is... It's the greatest pleasure of my life. My greatest honor."

"I do not deserve a woman like you."

"Perhaps not," you teased, "but you have me anyway. And what do we do with rare women, my Prince?"

His lips found yours in a sweeping kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. When he pulled back, he whispered, "We love them well."

A week later, King's Landing would find relief from the unwavering, record-breaking heatwave - only to be blasted by a wave of dragon fire. It was only then the Prince Aemond was seen with his wife for the first time since "The Throne Room Incident", and both were dressed in the traditional color of funerals: black.

You were bestowed an incredibly small bundle of black cloth, and with the rest of the Royal Family following, ventured to a distant hill where a funeral was to take place. Because your daughter was still so very tiny, she was laid in a fiery basin with only you and Aemond to preside over; offering prayer in High Valyrian. He held you close, the wind from the coast whipping all clothing around, and just behind everyone, Vhagar landed with a distinct thundering thud.

You didn't move, staring into the flames.

Aemond looked back, and when Vhagar saw the tears in her master's eye, noting the way he turned back to comfort you and grieve over your daughter, the dragon roared. A roar so loud, it was heard from the Riverlands. A roar so powerful, it shook the ground they all stood on. A roar so terrible, it made a few throats swell in emotion. A roar so sad, ballads would be written about it.

King's Landing might've been relieved from the weather's temperature, but as Vhagar felt her master mourning his daughter, she released an angry flame into the air that the citizens all felt.

For years, on the contrary, the entire city would feel Prince Aemond's cold shoulder to his mother, Queen Alicent, but for now, the heat of grief demanded to be felt.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

#aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x f!reader #hotd #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen angst

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gofordigitalindia · 2 years ago

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Best Budget 5G Mobile Phones

इंडिया में 5G सर्विस चालू हो गयी है और आप अपने लिए एक स्मार्टफोन देख रहे है तो यह पोस्ट आपकी बहुत मदद करेगी। Best Budget 5G Mobile Phones में हम ऐसे स्मार्टफोन या मोबाइल फ़ोन की बात करेंगे जो आपके जेब पर भी ज्यादा असर ना करे और आपके बजट में आएं। Best Budget 5G Mobile Phones की केटेगरी में सभी ब्रांड ने अपने अपने मोबाइल फ़ोन लॉन्च किये है जिसमें Tecno, Samsung, iQOO, Xiaomi, realme और vivo है।

हम सबसे अच्छे और बजट स्मार्टफोन को इस पोस्ट में बताएंगे जो उस कीमत पर अच्छी वैल्यू देते है। ये है Best Budget 5G Mobile Phones इन मोबाइल फ़ोन्स को एक एक करके बताते है की किस में कौन कौन से स्पेसिफिकेशन है।

#Best Budget 5G Mobile Phones #xiaomi redmi note 10t #xiaomi redmi note 11 #vivo t1 #iqoo z6 lite 5g #tecno pova neo 5g #oppo a74 5g #realme narzo 50 5g #samsung galaxy f23 #tecno pova 5g #best 5g mobile

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the20thangel · 4 months ago

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The Dragon and Raven Masterlist

Note: Hello, wonderful people. I created a master list of my series, The Dragon and Raven. Linking the ongoing chapters will make it much easier for you all to follow and keep track of the story. I hope you enjoy it!

Story Summary: After the Battle of BurningMill, Samwell and Davos Blackwood are gone, leaving Davos' twin Benjicot, the new lord of House Blackwood. Queen Rhaenyra and her council decided to show sympathy and gratitude to House Blackwood for their stance on the Black Faction of the War. Crown Princess Aemma, Rhaenyra's oldest daughter and supposedly Ser Leanor's only child, volunteers to fly to Raventree Hall to show the Crown's Respect and Support to House Blackwood and their newly appointed Lord.

Tags: Fluff, Smut, and angst.

Chapter One: Aemma Velayron

Chapter Two: Benjicot Blackwood

Chapter 3: Raventree Hall to Harenhall

Chapter 4: The Duel

Chapter 5: The Dragon Princess and her Raven Lord

Chapter 6: The Wedding

Chapter 7: The Battle of Rook's Rest

Chapter 8: The Cursed Gift

Chapter 9: Seasmoke

Chapter 10: Dragon seeds

Chapter 11: The Dragon Prince

Chapter12: Funeral Pyre and New Beginnings

Chapter 13: The Dragon Princess

Chapter 14: Warging Lessons

Chapter 15: Luring the Beast

Chapter 16: The Vale (Current Chapter) (Newest Update)

One Shot: The Pearl of The Realm

#benjicot blackwood #benjicot x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd #house of the dragon #TheDragonandTheraven #ao3 fanfic #Princess Aemma Velayron (oc)#davos blackwood #bloody ben #Benjicot Blackwood/oc #house blackwood #house targaryen #targaryen oc

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dcxdpdabbles · 1 year ago

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Master Post

All the dabbles I have posted on my DC x DP account. Under a read more due to how long it is. Broken into three categories:

Multi-parts - Dabbles that have more than one part written.

One-shots- Dabbles with only one part written.

Requests- Dabbles written for the requests of readers. (Note: If a request is for a continuation of the other two categories, they will be filed in Milti-parts)

Updated as of 11/10/2024: Stop on Completed Aus: The Adoptive Son Part 9

Multi-Parts

The Royal Consort: Part 1, Part 1.5 Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Child Support: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 Part 4

Alfred's Boy: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 Part 6 Part 6.5 Part 7

Phantom's Number 1 fan: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 Part 4 , Part 5 Part 6

Danny and The Fan Blog: Part 1, part 2, Part 3, Part 4 Part 5

Congratulations! It's Triplets!: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Ghost King Summon dare: Part 1 , Part 2 Part 3

The Dauntless Matchmaker: Part 1 Part 2

Demon and Angel Brat: Part 1, Part 2 Part 3

Single Dad: Part 1 Part 2

Jason's Doll: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Alley Boyfriends: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Misplace Baby: Part 1 Part 2

One-Shots

The Assistant: Part 1

The Ghost Trio's Food Trip: Part 1

Legal Compensation: Part 1

Love Among Fans: Part 1

Lex Luther's Youngest: Part 1

The Infinite Realms Hobby Store: Part 1

Obsession Runs in the Family: Part 1

Farm Hand: Part 1

Vague Threats: Part 1

Game of Deadly Love: Part 1

Retired-Rouge: Part 1

The Real Blood Son: Part 1

The Kid of Candles: Part 1

Magic Older Brother: Part 1

Keep The God Kid Busy!: Part 1

Dog walker: Part 1

Clockwork's Cookbook: Part 1

Respawn and Relive: Part 1

The Summoning Conditions of the Ghost King: Part 1

Finders Keeper: Part 1

What's the rule again?: Part 1

The Contact, the Butler and the Sly Time Lord: Part 1

Big Fish in Gotham Pond: Part 1

Immunity system: part 1

Wrong Number: Part 1

Timeline Prevention Squad: Part 1

Requests

The Masters are Aliens: Part 1

Ghost Zone Read: Part 1

Red Hood's Snow: Part 1

Jason Sees Dead People: Part 1

Ghost Dad: Part 1

Wayne Manor Ghost: Part 1

The Siren of Iceberg Lounge: Part 1

The Orginal: Part 1

The Ghost King's Fibs: Part 1

Red ParentHood: Part 1

Woo thy Butler My Lord: Part 1

Double Vision: Part 1

Dealeyed Soulmates: Part 1

Rescue Mission: Part 1

Danny's Online Persona: Part 1

Practice makes perfect: Part 1

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #mun speaks #Master post

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loki-cees-all · 15 days ago

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Space Oddity {Avengers!Loki x Female Reader One-shot}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / AO3 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x Female Reader

Summary : While preparing for Stark Tower’s Halloween party, Loki misunderstands the point of a Halloween Costume. Luckily he has you to help him navigate such tricky waters.

W/c : 10k words

Content / Warnings : Established Relationship, Fluff, Smut, Loki being a little massive shit and also a silly goose.

Author's Note : Last year a certain LIFE-RUINER (affectionate) dressed up as Ziggy Stardust/David Bowie/Aladdin Sane for Halloween, and it permanently altered my brain chemistry. Because of (or in spite of?) the ensuing brain rot, it took 11 months of me staring at that picture to finally come up with an idea to include Loki in that delicious little mix.

P.S. I do recommend listening to Space Oddity by David Bowie while you read this. If you start the song at "Humanity’s wide variety of music..." then depending on your reading speed, the song's first Verse should start right at the big reveal 🤭

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

A crisp, hazy mist obscured your view of the ground from the 22nd floor of Stark Tower. Sunrise was yet to fully finish, and the Earth below was quiet, still adjusting to the uneasy transition from slumber to consciousness. Within that ambiguity, it was easy to believe that you’d somehow awoken on an entirely new planet.

You often wondered what that was like, to feel the soil from an uncharted world give way underneath your boots. To feel a breeze coming off an ocean no other human had ever seen before, or to look up into the night sky and see the stars of a brand new galaxy. How colossal, how surreal, how inferior it must make someone feel.

On lazy mornings such as this one, you’d often ask your partner what it was like to be an astronaut. He’d hand you a steaming cup of coffee as he rejoined you in bed, and with a contemplative expression, he’d always respond with a brand new answer.

You suspected the change in response was just due to him recalling his first trip to a different realm, and each time you always listened very carefully. You always closed your eyes and tried to lose yourself in the picturesque descriptions of fantasy worlds you’d probably never be able to see personally.

Sometimes, if you focused hard enough, you could almost smell the forests of a brand new planet. You could almost taste its fresh water and its different fruit, and feel the immaculate breezes of its unstudied seasons. But then you’d open your eyes again, and when you looked through the skyscraper’s window, the few dapples of orange and yellow leaves breaking through the dense fog would let you know this was still planet Earth.

But that wasn’t always so bad. Occasionally, there would be several weeks without a world-ending threat breathing down the Avenger’s necks, and that meant you could pretend you were all just regular people. You could sleep in or get up extra early to watch the world come to life, you could rush around and do any of the million things that needed to be done, or you could simply lay there and bask in that sweet silence.

Today, after having coffee in bed, your only concrete plan was a shopping trip in the West Village with Wanda and Nat. Your only solid goal was to finally settle on the perfect costumes for the Halloween party happening just a few days from now.

It was no secret that the Avengers had acquired a sizable contingency of cynics over the years, ones who weren’t shy about openly criticizing the entire team. From the collateral damage incurred during battle, to the individual actions of its members both on and off the team - anything they did was suspect, and absolutely nothing was beyond complaint. Thus, Pepper Potts had made it her personal mission to finally correct the planet’s opinions of its heroes.

In addition to the team’s assistance towards rebuilding efforts after their battles were won and having its members performing very public charity work, Stark Tower was starting to host more “fun” events in order to further boost the team’s positive image.

“To get your names in the papers without a rising death toll immediately afterwards,” was specifically how Pepper had explained her initiative. And naturally, that meant a Halloween Party was deemed absolutely necessary.

Anyone who was even tertiarily related to the Avengers was going to be there: from the low-level, but still notable, world government leaders, to the honorary members from all corners of the globe. And of course, plenty of reporters and photographers would be in attendance, all of them ready to document every single fun moment. It was set to become an impressive party, and knowing Pepper, a very classy event - so it shouldn’t have been at all surprising that most of the team had become hyper-focused on winning the party’s costume contest.

Initially, everyone kept their costumes a secret from one another, and the trash-talking was of a mostly friendly nature. But then rumors started flying around, and gradually, some members of the team started taking the competition far too seriously. Alliances were formed, and subsequently broken. The taunting soon became serious, and then reached devastating levels, which ultimately escalated into a four-day period where Tony and Steve couldn’t even be in the same room together without a physical fight breaking out.

Thankfully, the girls were far more casual about it, and that afternoon’s shopping trip was planned to be one of mutual support. Wanda was hoping to finalize her couple’s costume with Vision, and even though she hadn’t mentioned it directly, you knew that Nat was attempting a similar endeavor with Bruce, despite his timid insistence that he wasn’t a “costume guy”. It was so adorably endearing that it almost gave you a toothache.

Unfortunately, things were not so cut and dry with Loki.

He had yet to mention the Halloween party on his own, nor had he participated in any group discussions on the subject - he even ignored Tony's attempts to goad him into verbal sparring matches, something Loki ordinarily enjoyed. Not that anyone should be genuinely excited about performative media relations disguised as a fun party, but nonetheless, you were starting to become concerned about his lack of interest.

Private conversations with him about finding a costume had gone nowhere. He didn’t understand why he needed to dress up at all, or why you cared so much about it. And while he wasn’t saying it out loud, you didn’t need to be a genius to guess why he had reservations: everyone else already believed he was an actual monster, so shouldn’t he just be himself on Halloween?

Only a few weeks had passed since you’d moved in together, but it was going really well, all things considered. The otherworldly being you’d fallen in love with still didn’t understand most Earthly customs, and you very much enjoyed being his Midgardian teacher. But coming to terms with what he’d done while under the influence of the Mind Stone was still an ongoing struggle for him.

Loki had good days, but he also had very, very bad days. He still had nightmares about his past, and frequently his worries about the future kept him helplessly trapped in bed. It broke your heart to witness, and even though he’d probably never reveal the full details about his time with The Black Order and Thanos, he at least never stopped you from offering him comfort in the middle of the night.

Because he wasn’t the monster his critics or inner demons claimed he was, no matter how convincing they were. He deserved a good and peaceful life just as much as everyone else did, and you wanted nothing more than to help him finally have one.

When you’d left the apartment later that morning, Loki was lounging peacefully on the living room couch, his nose buried in the oldest book you’d ever seen. A gentle smile had tugged at his lips while you kissed his forehead on your way out, and with tremendous love in his eyes, he said that he’d miss you terribly while you were gone.

After an early lunch at The Coppola Cafe, the three of you spent the afternoon browsing what felt like every single vintage clothing shop in the West End. It didn’t take long for Wanda and Nat to finalize their costumes, and eventually you did manage to find something for yourself, but deciding on your partner’s costume was another story entirely. A terribly complicated task, one that was impossible to accomplish and rotten with trap doors and landmines hiding within the deceptive labyrinth that was Loki.

The girls did their best to make helpful suggestions during the shopping trip, offering such innocent and guiltless ideas like a mailman, or a stuffy professor - or perhaps he could dress up as Shakespeare so he could spend the entire party wandering around quoting Hamlet. Or maybe instead, he should just wear a Ghostface mask and a long black cloak, so he had a good excuse to stay concealed and silent all night long.

You appreciated their efforts, but none of those ideas were quite right for him. You couldn’t really explain why, but they just weren’t…Loki.

By late afternoon, your mind had turned into a jumbled mess. Unable to think clearly anymore, you resorted to aimless purchases of extra things neither of you probably wouldn’t ever use - cheap makeup sets, bottles of fake blood, a set of vampire fangs, a pair of cat ears. Several brightly colored wigs, a second-hand cape, and a large bag of Halloween candy to stress eat later finally completed your purchases for the day.

The group came back to the Tower just before dusk, and the living room of your apartment was quiet when you walked inside. A few lamps illuminated on the end tables gave the space a dark, brooding mood, which was greatly appreciated after such a busy and disappointing day. But unfortunately, Loki was no longer on the couch where you’d left him, and that old book was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey! I’m home!” you called out while setting your shopping bags down by the front door.

An odd silence was the only thing that greeted you.

Usually, Loki would be at the front door, ready to sweep you up in his arms whenever you returned home. But the apartment remained unmoving, even as you called out a second time. When he still didn’t appear, you poked your head into the kitchen while shrugging off your jacket and slipping off your shoes. But that room was also completely vacant, with no evidence of dinner being started or already had.

Loki preferred spending most of his time alone, but occasionally he’d allow an enticing bribe from Bruce or Thor to drag him out of the apartment; maybe he was just studying something interesting up in Bruce’s lab, or perhaps he’d agreed to help his brother play a prank on someone. Grateful for the opportunity to wallow in solitude for a bit, you pulled the giant bag of Halloween candy from a shopping bag and made your way towards the back of the apartment.

You padded down the empty hallway where there was still no sign of Loki. Everything in the entire apartment was clean, and in its place. There was absolutely nothing wrong, and yet it felt like the weight of the entire world was resting heavily on your shoulders. You tried to reassure yourself that it was nothing that a coma-inducing amount of candy couldn’t fix, but even that was becoming less believable with each step forward.

As you approached the bedroom, you thought you could hear the very faint sounds of guitar strumming through the closed door. That gave you pause; certain that you hadn’t left anything on before leaving that morning, you cautiously moved closer, until your ear was pressed against the door.

Yes, that was music you were hearing - familiar music, even though you couldn’t quite place it yet, and you couldn’t help but to smile to yourself. Loki was home after all, and he had been entertaining himself with music while you were out. It thoroughly warmed your heart with an unexplainable feeling of serenity, and pleased that he’d remembered how to use the record player on his own, you waited behind the door to listen for another moment.

Humanity’s wide variety of music was one of the few things about our culture that he’d expressed genuine interest in - which of course, you happily encouraged. It was so much fun introducing him to everything from the classic composers of the 18th and 19th centuries, to the psychedelic rockers of the 20th century. From the upbeat pop groups of your middle school years, to the angsty singers that made up the soundtrack of your early twenties.

You closed your eyes to focus solely on whatever he was listening to now. The music itself was playing low, the singer’s impassive voice just barely audible to you. But you couldn’t tell if it was a really old recording, or if the sound was just distorted after passing through the door.

Off in the distance, a punctuated drum stroke marked the countdown to some inconceivable event, and adrenaline suddenly filled your bloodstream. A low hum vibrated underneath the drum, steady until it wasn’t, and then gradually it shifted into a cosmic wail that seemed to be transmitting itself across all of time and space. A cacophony of instruments, from both the planet Earth and of the stars themselves, finally crescendoed together in a powerful array of astronomical declaration.

A declaration that something was happening at that very moment. Breathed into life with a static kiss, that something was so astonishingly important, and it vehemently demanded immediate witness.

Your curiosity, overwhelming to the point that you couldn’t take it any longer, forced you to carefully reach for the door handle. Its metal, both warm and cold simultaneously, felt like home. It felt unreal.

This felt like opening the hatch to an ancient spacecraft.

This is Ground Control to Major Tom…

You pushed open the door, and immediately let out a startled laugh. Standing in front of the bedroom mirror was a tall and lanky figure, turning himself back and forth while carefully examining his reflection. That part wasn’t surprising; but rather, it was the way he’d dressed himself that was completely unexpected.

You’ve really made the grade…

Bright red and blue stripes lined the figure’s jumpsuit from shoulder to toe, each one evenly separated by thin lines of white. Familiar dark curls cascaded and twisted down past a pair of golden, glittering shoulder pads that only amplified his already impressive stature. Across his right eye, stretching from well below his cheekbone up to meet with his natural hairline, was a crimson lightning bolt. Its perfectly jagged edges were outlined in shimmering blue, and the leather platform boots on his feet were a brilliant, shining red.

And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear…

You knew it wasn’t actually Ziggy Stardust standing there; logically, you knew that much to be true. David Bowie had died several years ago, and while you now believed in alien life on other planets, and magic, and superheroes - you still knew the matter of ghosts to be entirely science fiction.

Rational thought, if you had been capable of it in that moment, would have told you that this was just your celestial partner practicing another one of his illusions. But this mirage was so much more powerful than reason, or fact, or reality could have ever hoped to be. While shoulder-strung spectral harps blared from the record player and the harmonized magnetism of flesh and blood and God stood before you, the only conclusion to be reached was that you’d finally lost your entire mind.

Now it’s time to leave the capsule if you dare…

Other than his hair, his illusion was categorically perfect: the only hint of Loki underneath this glamour was the flicker of mischievous green hiding behind heterochromatic eyes. But those weren’t Loki’s cheekbones, or his lips, or his nose.

They were David fucking Bowie’s.

This is Major Tom to Ground Control…

Your jaw dropped even further when he finally noticed you. He turned someone else’s body, and he lifted someone else’s chin. The illustrious and supernal smile he flashed in your direction tugged at someone else’s lips. But the confidence that radiated out of him, like the infernal rays of an ever-bursting star, belonged to Loki, and Loki alone.

It was different from Bowie’s, but still somehow the same; despite the oddity of both their ensembles, neither outfit had worn either man. And similar to that ethereal mortal from over 50 years ago, Loki’s aura overrode any bewildered question of why, and instead begged the eternal question of how?

I’m stepping through the door…

How was he making this look work for him? Just like Bowie, Loki was equal parts striking and ridiculous. He was magnetic and breathtaking, he was pulling you in while simultaneously stunning the oxygen from your lungs. No thoughts, no words, no sounds could ever truly capture the true essence of this scene, and all you could manage was another stunned laugh as you looked him up and down.

His lips finally moved, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. A symphony of guitars and keyboards and organs and stringed instruments all crescendoed together to effectively pay tribute to the creation of this universe and drown out his voice. The sound, dizzying and disorienting, overpowered the feel of the floor beneath your feet until gravity was no longer enough to keep you tethered to the Earth.

And I’m floating in the most peculiar way…

Your mind, completely overwhelmed by the glowing specter just ten feet away, had become entirely blank. You were rendered so totally speechless that you forgot every single detail about your past. You simply weren’t you anymore; you were an astronaut from a distant planet on the other side of the universe, and you always had been.

You weren’t standing on the 22nd floor of Stark Tower, you were opening the hatch of an imaginary spacecraft, you were taking that first step out onto an unexplored moon. You were leaving the very first footprints upon its previously untouched surface, and you were carving your name into its virgin moondust. You were leaving your mark for future generations to someday gaze upon, in sheer awe of the audacity to wonder what else could be out there.

And the stars look very different today…

Without even noticing, you let go of the bag of Halloween candy; whether it also began floating or if it crashed to your bedroom floor was no longer any of your concern. All you could think about was if it felt this surreal, this mind-blowing to look upon the real David Bowie. How did anybody manage to not spontaneously combust in his presence?

All sense of relative dimensions lost their meaning. Space was completely irrelevant, time was a fictional construct. The universe was never going to stop expanding, so would anyone ever be able to see it all? How could a numerical value ever be assigned to the entire concept of time? Why were any of us here?

For here, am I sitting in a tin can?

You had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but at some point, Loki must have realized that he’d broken you. Without losing his proud smile, he waved a hand in the direction of your record player. Its needle lifted, and an eerie silence immediately descended over the room.

As soon as the music stopped, part of the spell clouding your mind vanished. A rush of oxygen suddenly filled your lungs, and your heart finally returned to its beating. Blood resumed its journey through your veins, and the floor became substantial underneath your feet again. You blinked once, twice, three times and shook your head, trying to clear it so that you might be able to ask just one of the million questions that all popped up at the exact same time.

“Something the matter, dear?”

Your eyes flew back open. Unfortunately, his glamour was still in place, and it was Ziggy Stardust that gingerly approached your position by the door. And when he’d spoken, it wasn’t Loki’s voice you’d heard - it was the voice of David Bowie.

Unsure of what to do with yourself, inundated and engulfed in sensations of the most flustered manner, you squeezed your eyes shut again. Your arms crossed and uncrossed, your knees locked and unlocked as your weight shifted back and forth. You couldn’t help but laugh and shake your head again.

“Loki, um…What the…” You had to pause to let out a deep, shaky breath, to run your hands up and down your face in a desperate attempt to wake from this very confusing dream. “What, um - are you doing, exactly?”

The air around you warmed considerably as he stopped in front of you, and the amusement in Bowie’s voice, so smooth and so sure of himself, was more than palpable as he spoke.

“Preparing for the masquerade, my dear. The same thing you were doing all afternoon.”

A gentle finger tilted your chin upwards, silently requesting that your eyes open again. When you did, it was Ziggy Stardust staring down at you from his impressive height, his expression curious and the unnecessarily tall boots he stood upon just making everything worse for you.

You gasped breathlessly. Your brain almost melted entirely. The massive crush you’d had on David Bowie when you were 13 years old suddenly roared to life once more. You’d never told anyone about it, because everyone else your age was in love with the much more socially acceptable choices of Nick Carter or Justin Timberlake. Back then, admitting to a near-fatal attraction on an androgynous, bisexual and eccentric musician from the 1970s would have been akin to signing your own death warrant.

Nowadays, such a crush was far more acceptable to have, but you thought those feelings had faded away with adolescence. There’d been no reason to bring it up, not even when you’d first introduced Loki to Bowie’s music. And now you were standing face-to-chest with the physical embodiment of your lie by omission.

Overwhelmed once more, you backed away from him and covered your eyes. “Okay, can you - take those boots off, please? You’re already ridiculously taller than me, so you don’t need them…”

“As you wish, darling.”

His voice, though sincere, was still someone else’s. Admittedly, it was intoxicating to hear Bowie’s voice addressing you in such a loving, familiar tone - but it was also incredibly intimidating. You were already on the verge of collapse as it was; you didn’t need yet another reason to make a very rapid crash landing to the floor.

Carefully, you let out a very slow breath to steady yourself. “And - can you also go back to using your voice, please?”

There was a brief moment of silence, and a part of you wished you could see the enchanting smirk he almost certainly wore at that very moment. When he finally answered, it was in his own voice again, but it was just as amused as Bowie’s voice had been.

“As you wish, darling.”

You let out a shuddered sigh of relief, and your body relaxed somewhat. When you cracked open your eyelids from behind your fingers, he was still Ziggy, but the sight was a little easier to deal with now that he stood at his normal height and spoke with his actual voice.

Now that he was closer, you took in the comforting notes of citrus and cedarwood on his skin, scents you knew to be Loki’s. You swallowed hard, your pupils dilated wildly as you finally allowed yourself to look him over.

“You did this for the Halloween party?” you asked softly.

Loki’s expression was much more reserved now, and he nodded earnestly. “Yes, I thought you would enjoy it. Is that not the case?”

Your breath hitched as you reached out to touch him. Your fingertips brushed along the golden collar around his neck. The material was soft and pliable, not like the polyester you’d find on a cheap costume from a pop-up Halloween store. No, the fabric Loki wore was both real, and it wasn’t. It was the truth, but it was also a lie. He was both mortal and ethereal simultaneously.

“And what made you choose this version of David Bowie to imitate?”

The reimagined figure of Ziggy Stardust shrugged nonchalantly. His gaze, as intent and dedicated as ever, remained locked on your expression while your fingers drifted over to his shoulder pads, and then back down to the center of his chest.

“Well, the other night you remarked on how much I supposedly resembled this particular mortal…”

A shy smile pulled at your lips. “Okay, go on…”

He reached out to caress your cheek, his thumb soft and solid against your skin. “And I was thinking about that film you showed me. The one that used music to tell its story…”

You stifled another giggle by pulling your lower lip between your teeth. Both of your hands found their way to his chest, one of them pulling the zipper of his jumpsuit until you could see just the barest hint of his chest hair.

“A music video. The Space Oddity music video, specifically…”

Ziggy, or Loki - whomever it was - donned a playful grin. “Yes, of course. With the oscillating, dark-green lines. I quite enjoyed that one…”

You nodded absentmindedly. Your fingers, like they had a mind of their own, tugged the zipper down just a little bit further. Its metal teeth, crafted with the utmost precision possible, gave way and unlocked so easily to reveal even more of his skin, and your heart hammered inside your chest.

It was impossible that Loki couldn’t see right through your expression, that he didn’t know about the salacious thoughts swirling around in your head. Like he’d expected you to have this very reaction, he gently slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, until you were pressed all the way against him.

“Darling, I know that the stress of preparing for this particular soiree has been weighing heavily on your mind as of late…” he continued with a soft murmur as he delicately spun you both around and guided you back towards the bed. “And I wanted to do something to help alleviate that burden for you…”

Your heart leapt violently into your throat. At first, it was the surprise that he’d noticed your inner turmoil that did you in, but then it shifted towards dismay over you apparently not hiding it as well as you thought you were.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied with an innocent smile as he slowly lowered you both down to the mattress.

But yes, of course you’d been feeling tons of pressure lately about the party. The Avengers had all known about your relationship with Loki for a while, but the rest of the Tower still didn’t - and neither did the rest of the world. They were all going to find out at the Halloween party.

Loki chuckled and allowed his weight to fully settle on top of yours. “What have I told you about good girls who like to lie, my love?” he murmured softly, his lips brushing teasingly against yours.

While you didn’t really care what everyone else thought about you, what they thought about Loki was many magnitudes of greater importance. He was already in a very precarious situation as it was; depending on the pundit or publication, his every scowl was interpreted as one of disdain for the human race, his every word a threat that he was just moments away from leading another alien invasion.

They already hated him, and they’d never forgive him for New York, no matter how well he’d behaved since.

Your breath shuddered, and your fingers couldn’t help but tangle between the dark curls that were so effortlessly Loki’s. “That they should…do it more, probably?”

Any mistake he made in the field was grounds for his dismissal, anytime he drank a glass of wine instead of a beer was his blatant attempt to dismantle democracy itself. His every move was overanalyzed and deciphered by a bunch of people who had never even met him, who never even cared to know what he was like behind closed doors or in private, when he actually felt safe to be himself.

They didn’t even care that he’d been corrupted by measures of torture they’d never have been able to survive themselves. Or that it had been entirely against his will, or that even while his invasion was taking place, he was subtly laying the groundwork for the Avengers to be able to stop him in the first place.

“A valiant attempt, darling, but we both know that wasn’t what I meant…” he whispered hotly, nippling at your jaw. He adjusted the angle of his hips, and he began to roll them against yours.

You moaned softly in response. Your mind began to melt, this time in pleasure instead of shock. The juxtaposition of Loki and Bowie and Ziggy, though confusing at first, started to make sense. It scratched an itch you couldn’t possibly have guessed that you had, and it created an intense need deep within your soul.

Unable to resist him any further, you captured his lips in a fiery kiss, and he eagerly returned it. His mouth worked hard and fast against yours, in a brand new style of coruscating and devastating passion. Hot and heavy, the kiss tasted just like Loki’s always had, but now it contained an extra dose of stardust.

Loki's hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing against your cheekbones, his hips again rolling against yours. His breath was quick against your skin, his needy groans like music to your ears. This transcendental combination of the past and present, of both the mortal plane and of the stars themselves, somehow craved you this badly and he wasn’t even afraid to show it.

It was so strange; Loki may have come from the stars, but somehow, he was still beholden to you here on Earth.

Within moments your legs wrapped themselves around his waist. Your tongue swiped at his bottom lip, requesting entry, and he granted it. Your hands drifted to his neck, his drifted to your thighs, and your bodies writhed together, eagerly, desperately, hungrily.

The heat between you escalated even further - the kind of heat that usually precipitated the creation of a new star in the sky. Just as you began to yank the jumpsuit’s zipper down further, a shimmer of emerald washed down your bodies, effortlessly and fully undressing the both of you.

You fucking loved it when he did that.

Loki could use his magic to do anything he wanted; he could, and had already, used it to destroy, and to maim, and to control. But now he only used it to protect the ones he’d previously tried to conquer. Now he just used it to love - or when he couldn’t handle not being inside you for another second.

His skin was hot against yours, his hands worshiped your curves. Your body stretched and arched underneath his, taking him in, making love to him like it was the very first time. It always felt that way, like you were floating one hundred thousand miles above the Earth, like the stars were finally within reach and only now could you actually reach them.

Your fingernails dug into his hips. The sound of the creaking bed was soon drowned out by breathless moans against your ear, of prayers and curses and promises. Your toes curled, your eyelids fluttered shut. Wild movements crescendoed into the purest form of what you knew to be the truth: the Earth was blue, the moon was silver, and Loki’s love would always be with you no matter where he went.

The orgasm ripped through you like a gravitational force collapsing the entire universe. Your muscles tensed, your body trembled underneath him. Pleasure seeped out of your pores and you cried out for him, incoherent and delirious. It felt like you had left your body entirely - remarkably disconnected from reality, but still safely anchored to him.

Loki fell off the edge just after you did. His muscles contracted as he clung to you, his voice nothing but shameless groans and heated gasps. With parted lips and a heavy breath, he intertwined his fingers with yours, he buried his face into your neck, and together your bodies finally collapsed within that mutual satisfaction.

An immeasurable length of time passed during the quiet contentment that followed, and by now, the sun had fully set. Unsure of whether you were just dozing or if you’d actually joined the astral plane, you allowed yourself to remain limp and boneless in his arms. Once again, gravity had no authority here, and you found peace just drifting aimlessly through the ever-growing expansion of outer space.

“You never answered my earlier question, darling….”

Loki’s demulcent voice gently pulled you back down to Earth. Your eyelids struggled to open underneath the pressure of the planet’s immense gravity, and suddenly you couldn’t remember anything that had transpired beforehand.

“No, I’m...pretty sure I answered it already,” you replied with a false confidence, stretching your body against his in an obvious attempt to distract him.

He chuckled and shifted with you, propping himself up on one elbow. His other hand traced a swirling pattern along your hip. “And I’m quite certain that you didn’t, love…”

For someone called the God of Mischief, he was surely determined to never let you get away with anything. You let out a laughing groan of frustration, and as your eyes opened, as you looked up into his, your breath vanished from your lungs.

The stars looked so different now. They weren’t Ziggy’s, nor Bowie’s, anymore - they were Loki’s. His glamour had started to fail while you were making love, and now the large constellations of the deepest greens and blues, of Loki himself, were all that stared lovingly back at you.

Loki grinned when he noticed the awe in your expression. His brow arched in a curious and teasing fashion when you couldn’t answer him.

“My goodness, she’s turned into a cosmonaut and floated away, hasn’t she…?” he murmured softly, pretending to talk to himself. He took his fingers and made them dance against the sensitive skin of your neck to get your attention. “Hello, darling? Are you still there?”

Almost immediately you were drowning in a fit of giggles. You scrunched up your shoulders and tried to squirm away, laughing and cursing at him while Loki continued his teasing. But his fingers, tender yet relentless on your sensitive skin, made it impossible to keep your eyes open or coordinate your muscles enough to put a stop to his attack.

“Yes, hello? I was wondering if you’ve seen a beautiful girl in there?” he continued in that same vexatious tone, his hold on you tightening as he nuzzled his face to yours. “She’s my darling companion, and I’ve been missing her terribly. Can you tell her to come back to me, please?”

You let out more breathless laughs, you made more desperate wriggles in his grasp. If you’d been able to see anything, you would have seen his cheeky grin and sparkling eyes, all lit up with mirth and devilry. There was absolutely nothing Loki loved more than play, and perhaps that was the true meaning of life anyway.

But when you finally cried out for mercy, he instantly relented, granting you more benevolence within a single moment of play than he’d ever been given in centuries. And all things considered, Loki was still quite delicate in his handling of you. After all, he had gentleness woven deep within him - the kind that had developed out of defiance, not because it was taught, and that just made him all the more genuine.

Dutifully, like it was an honor, he shifted your bodies so that he was on his back and you were nestled safely to his chest. Your leg curled around his, and after his fingers completed their soothing motions over the skin he’d just attacked, they moved in wide swoops along your back.

“I suppose I should repeat my question then?” he murmured softly after kissing your temple.

His skin, soft and smooth and pale, now smelled like an ancient fire that could burn his way through anything, if he’d wanted it to. It was intoxicating. You wondered if that was the same scent that had once filled the air of Asgard, if you’d ever get to experience it yourself someday.

“Mmm, yeah. I think you should…”

Loki cleared his throat, hesitating. His fingertips drifted up to the divot of your shoulder. “Did you truly not enjoy the costume I chose?”

His voice was so quiet, so tender that it made your heart ache a little bit. You shifted on the bed, leaning up to look him in the eyes.

“No, I did love it, Loki! It was really thoughtful of you, and for a second, I…” You smiled fondly, recalling the moment you first saw him, while one of your favorite songs ever blasted from your record player. “I really thought it was actually David Bowie, back from the dead…”

Loki quirked an eyebrow. “And so naturally, your first reaction was to…laugh at it?”

Your lips pursed together, trying to suppress another one. “Okay, I’m sorry about that. But I wasn’t laughing at the costume, it was honestly just…really overwhelming to walk in and see so unexpectedly…”

“Oh, you found it to be overwhelming, did you?” Loki grinned again, apparently possessing an infinite supply of them. “My poor little dearest, I’m afraid you only have yourself to blame for that.”

“Me?!” you laughed incredulously. “But I’m the victim here!”

So sure of himself, Loki gave a teasing nod. “Yes, you see, darling - I was in the process of choosing the appropriate level of detail for the illusion when you so rudely interrupted me…”

You maintained a playful, sarcastic expression as he explained himself. “Sure, sure. Or you could have just, you know…locked the bedroom door if you didn’t want to be interrupted…”

Loki chucked and playfully swatted at your hip. “So then tell me, what about it was too much for you? I had already decided that the red hair was a bit excessive, but should I alter the clothing as well? The voice?” he asked, his hand now softly soothing the skin he’d just swatted.

You silently thanked whatever it was other there that Loki had decided to keep his actual hair; it was one of his best features. Almost automatically, your fingers drifted through those gorgeous strands of caliginous curls, relishing in their strength and fluidity. He let out a tranquil hum when your touch grazed his scalp, and the sound was so effortless, so real, that nothing else could ever compare.

Unfortunately, your thoughts then drifted towards far less pleasant topics.

No one in their right mind could ever bring Loki’s capabilities as a sorcerer into question, especially not during battle. In fact, Wanda had previously expressed feelings of inadequacy when comparing her talents to his. But he had spent entire centuries perfecting his craft, he’d dedicated entire human lifetimes to his studies - to the point where most people remained completely unaware of its full extent once an illusion had been cast.

A large part of that was because he preferred to remain an unanswerable question to everyone else, especially after the attack on New York. He’d rather they looked at his daggers instead of at his soul, or at the black heart he worried was the true source of his seidr. He didn’t want anyone to know what he was truly capable of, lest they fear him even more - or try to use his own knowledge against him.

But if he wore the illusion of one of Bowie’s personas to the party - not dressed as, but if he actually was the physical embodiment of Ziggy Stardust come back to life - then everyone would know just how afraid of him they should be. You could see the fear-mongering op-ed headlines already - Former Alien Invader Transforms Himself into a Dead Rocker. What’s to Stop Him from Imitating the President Next?

And the critics who didn’t make that massive jump towards an impossible conclusion? You already knew that if he wore the wrong costume to the party, they’d have even more reason to pick him apart; if they secretly loved his costume, they’d simply accuse him of pandering. There was literally no direction for him to go that wouldn’t result in more needless hatred being spewed at him.

Even more pressing than all of that, what if they accused him of corrupting an innocent human when they learned about your relationship? You desperately didn’t want to make his life harder than it needed to be, but neither could you face bringing that concern up to him; what if he secretly agreed with them? What if he decided he was defiling your entire life just by existing within it?

What if he decided to leave you, in order to correct that grievous mistake?

Your fingertips gently traced the angle of his jaw. His eyes drifted closed as he clearly savored your touch, and his expression was just so serene, so peaceful. You couldn’t let him sacrifice that tranquility for the sake of a party; Loki may not have needed your protection on the battlefield, but you sure as hell weren’t going to let him wander into danger back at home.

“Well, maybe the issue is that you were using an illusion, instead of a costume…”

His eyes fluttered open beneath a furrowed brow. His pupils widened before fixating on you. “I don’t understand. The goal is to become the subject in question, is it not?”

You couldn’t help but laugh again; sometimes he surprised you with how human he was, and other times it was because of how alien he was. Letting out a slow breath, you pushed yourself up to sitting next to him. Your legs curled over to the side, and you draped yourself across his chest.

“I think the real issue is that you might be slightly misunderstanding the point of a costume contest,” you began with a gentle smile. “Using magic to alter your appearance for a contest could be considered…cheating, by some people.”

His expression was tender, but unrelenting. “I’m still not seeing the problem, darling. If I’m to become someone else in order to participate, then I’m going to become someone else…”

“But the whole point is how much effort you put into the costume,” you explained with a gentle head tilt. “It’s about how creative you can be with either a limited skill set, or a small budget, or shortened time constraints…”

You paused for a moment to let your words sink in before continuing.

“And I’m so sorry, but using magic just…isn’t that much effort for you. No matter how amazing or lifelike the illusion is.”

He nodded, and his eyes flickered with understanding. For a very brief moment, he seemed to be taking your words to heart. But when his lips curved into a cheeky grin, you knew he was about to make another snarky comment.

“You’re saying Stark will have a conniption if I win the costume contest at his own party? Is that it?”

You sighed and rolled your eyes while matching his smile. It was actually incredible that he still had this much energy to devote towards acting like a total menace. “Yes, if it helps you to think about it like that, then that is exactly what I’m trying to say…”

Loki continued thinking about your explanation for another moment, his gaze distant while his hand ran along the length of your arm. Eventually, the grin on his face slowly shifted towards one of true sincerity.

“Alright then. What would you suggest I do instead?”

You met his gaze with an even bigger smile of your own. All that remained of his illusion was a jagged, crimson lightning bolt stretching down his cheek, and you brought your fingertips down to gently trace along the bolt’s edges. His skin was so very soft, the transition between alabaster and crimson so seamless. It was only then that you remembered one of the purchases made earlier that day with Wanda and Nat.

“Well, for starters…I think we ought to actually paint this design on your face.”

Before he could even respond, you had already hopped out of bed - not that you would have responded to him anyway. And while wearing nothing but a scheming grin, you practically soared across the room, stopping just long enough to grab a few clothes from the bedroom floor on your way to the living room.

“We ought to do what, darling?” Loki’s incredulous voice called out after you disappeared through the doorway.

As you hurried into the living room, you bounced on one foot, and then the other, while pulling the pair of panties up to your hips. After clumsily slipping the t-shirt over your head and guiding your arms through its sleeves, you lowered down to your knees next to the shopping bags left by the front door.

Did you have any experience with painting faces? None whatsoever.

Was that going to stop you now? Absolutely not. His illusion may have been overwhelming, but Loki’s inspiration of picking a David Bowie character for his Halloween costume was beyond perfect, and you were going to do whatever it took to make that idea a more feasible reality.

Rummaging past the bright pink wig and the fringed flapper dress and the vampire fangs purchased earlier that day, you finally found it: a palette of Halloween make-up. The flat, rectangular box contained a few small brushes and a row of circular discs, each one filled with a different and very bright shade of creamy, metallic make-up.

It was definitely a very cheap make-up set, and probably had way too many questionable ingredients that you’d never be able to fully investigate, but it should work just fine for this little trial - as long as Loki let you anywhere near him with it. You were sure that he would after batting your pretty little eyelashes at him.

Back in the bedroom, you could hear him shifting on the bed. You shot back up to your feet. “Don’t get up! Just stay right there, Loki, I’m coming back!”

You carefully ripped into the package as you padded across the living room. Not only was this your first time painting someone’s face, but it might be the first time Loki’d ever had his face painted as well. A twinge of excitement, laced with a hint of unease, swam freely inside your veins; there was a good reason why your skillset had led you towards a career of getting beat up on a professional level, instead of towards a quieter, peaceful career of make-up artistry or hair-styling.

Complicating matters even more was the fact that Loki was quite particular about his appearance. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin this newfound interest in the Halloween party.

When you returned to the doorway of your bedroom, Loki was seated on the edge of your shared bed. His long legs were spread wide, with delicious expanses of thigh peeking out between the tousled sheets. His expression was dreamy and brooding as he ran a large hand through his midnight curls, like his thoughts were a hundred thousand miles away while he smoothed and detangled.

His face lit up when he finally noticed you, but then it dropped when he saw what you were holding. “Please tell me that’s a joke. You’re joking with that, yes?”

You grinned and shook your head like you were trying to fling your nervous energy into a nearby galaxy. “Not a chance. Scoot!” you laughed, waving your hand to get him to make room for you.

He complied, but still let out a frustrated groan as he shifted to the middle of the bed and leaned back against the headboard. “Darling, be reasonable. I’m already getting a rash just looking at that preposterous concoction…”

“Oh, come on! ” you whined, fluttering your eyelashes in a way you know he both loved and hated. “I know it’s not Armani, but you’ll survive a test run with it, right?”

Loki sighed, and then he softly patted the mattress next to him. “You’re lucky you’re so damn adorable…”

“I know. It’s a blessing and a curse for you, isn’t it?”

Having won the first battle, you settled next to him on the bed. Your legs curled up underneath you, and with an innocent smile, you blinked at him once more, a silent request that he drop the final remainder of his illusion. The lightning bolt on his face disappeared with an emerald glimmer, and a playful smirk replaced it.

“Yes, it is. And you’re going to be so very embarrassed if this folderol does actually kill me…”

You carefully pried open the palette and dragged a brush through the creamy, red substance on the palette. “Oh, please. Of all the things that could kill you, it’s not going to be drug-store brand holiday make-up…”

Starting at his forehead, you made gentle strokes against his skin, testing to see how well it absorbed the cream. As expected, it didn’t smear very well, the edges were smudged and uneven. But there was no need to panic just yet - it was still completely fixable. That is, as long as you avoided direct eye contact with him, or else you might become even more flustered than you already were.

Loki’s gaze shifted as you worked, watching either your hands or your face depending on whether you were gathering color or painting his skin. His features were soft, his eyes still dreamy as he watched you work, but you carefully kept your attention towards the task at hand; his attention was like a black hole of colossal proportions, and once you were caught in it, the only thing keeping you from splitting into a million different strands of yourself was Loki himself.

When he realized his alluring good-looks weren’t enough to distract you this time, he switched to a different tactic.

“Darling, do you really expect me to believe that Stark is allowing Miss Potts to paint his face for the party?”

You snorted, expecting nothing less from someone called the God of Mischief. “If Tony knows what’s good for him, he is.”

As you pulled the brush across the bridge of his nose, Loki let out a chuckle and titled his head. “Is that some sort of veiled threat, darling? What happens if I refuse to cooperate with you?”

That little movement was just enough to ruin what might have been a decent brush stroke, and it made you smear crimson down the length of his nose instead of diagonally across his cheek.

“Hey, stop moving!” you gasped and laughed at the same time. “Or you’re gonna wind up looking even more ridiculous!”

“Would it be rude to say that I find that difficult to believe, my love?”

Ignoring his comment, you licked the tips of your finger and swiped it along the edges of the lightning bolt, trying to smooth it out. When the makeup just smeared instead of erasing neatly, a new rush of panic settled in your chest. You licked your finger again and rubbed it harder over his skin, and then you tried using your other, untainted fingers - but all that resulted in was the tips of those digits, and now your tongue, turning the brightest red to have ever existed.

“Something the matter, darling?” Loki asked knowingly, repeating his earlier question. He pursed his lips together, just barely attempting to suppress a vindicated smile as he watched you struggle. “Is the inferior product you insisted upon ruining the homemade look you’d imagined for me?”

Forcing your expression into one of neutrality required a tremendous amount of effort. “Nope. Everything’s going perfectly, my love,” you lied, switching the makeup palette to your other hand. Within seconds, the fingertips of both hands were traitorously stained with the truth.

“Really? You’re absolutely sure about that, darling?” Loki asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he glanced at the make-up palette. “Please correct me if I’m mistaken, but there seems to be more tint on your fingers than what’s left in the container…”

Your face scrunched up in amused frustration, and the unpleasant taste of chemicals and oils now completely coated your tongue. “Mmhmm, this is a…totally normal part of the process.”

His comments were just making everything worse, but you were still determined to see this attempt through to the end. At that point, the makeup palette was discarded entirely and soon became lost within the bed sheets as you pushed yourself up to your knees and shifted closer to him. You took the hem of your t-shirt and pulled it up in a desperate attempt to finally fix the bolt’s outline and salvage your work.

You swiped the soft fabric down the length of his nose, but the make-up must have believed your t-shirt to be a brush, and all you did was push the red deeper into his skin. Silently cursing yourself, you pulled your t-shirt up further and tried to focus on gathering as much color as possible. Secretly though, you prayed that effectively flashing him like this would distract him from making more teasing comments at your expense.

But that didn’t quite work either, and Loki’s chuckle from behind your t-shirt was both leery and leering.

“And now you’ve resorted to seduction as a means of distraction from your lies…” he purred, the sound almost a growl as he brought his hands to your waist. “I’d say our relationship might be having a negative effect on your morality, darling, but you’d be much better at this if it was…”

You were still determined not to let him win, even as a shuddered breath tumbled from your lips. Your heart beat faster in your chest as the entire front of your t-shirt became tinted with red, and your face warmed from the feel of his hands gliding down to your hips.

“It’s fine! It’s fine, Loki. Trust me, I’ve done this a million - ”

“Sweetheart.”

Loki’s voice was kind but firm when he interrupted. He leaned back as he pulled your shirt down, revealing the devastation on his face that your attempts to fix had caused. “Please just admit that you’re not very good at this…”

You gasped and clamped a hand over your mouth. There was red everywhere - in his eyebrows and his eyelashes, across his right cheek and somehow, underneath his chin. The combination of mess on his both serious and amused expression was a horrifying, delightful sight, and you only barely managed to swallow the giggle bubbling in your throat.

Loki arched a suspicious eyebrow. He flicked his wrist and produced a small, handheld mirror with his seidr, and he stared at you expectantly - granting you one final opportunity to come clean, as it were.

“Come on, darling. I will love you no less if you just admit it.”

But you couldn’t; all you could manage was to laugh, cover your eyes and brace for the inevitable as he finally looked at his reflection.

“This is absolutely marvelous, darling,” he finally replied in a wry tone of voice.

You shook while trying to suppress another laugh, but it was all over now. He’d seen the abominable, unskilled attempt at facial decoration you’d left on his skin, and you knew he was never going to let you hear the end of it despite the fact that he was laughing too.

“And you were absolutely right, this is so much better than using magic. Perhaps I should go into battle like this. I could simply frighten our enemies to death…”

You let out a heavy laugh of defeat and let your hands fall to your thighs. You were sure there was probably red make-up smudged all over your own face as well now, but you didn’t care anymore. “Alright, so. Maybe I’m not that great at painting faces…”

“Oh, on the contrary, sweet girl…” Loki chuckled as he tossed the mirror away and pulled you closer, settling you over his lap. He leaned up and nuzzled his nose to yours. “This is impeccable work. Stunning, even…”

“No, stop it! You’re making a mess!” you laughed and tried to look away, but his face followed yours, no doubt just smearing even more make-up all over each other. “Loki! You’re ruining all of my hard work!”

His arms tightened around you. He began to kiss and nip at your jaw, your nose, your neck. “Or am I making it more authentic? Did you ever think about that, darling?”

Resigning yourself to retaliation at Loki’s level, you matched his every kiss and nip with another to his jaw, his nose, his neck. He let out an encouraging chuckle and cupped your jaw with his hands, angling your face properly to his. When your lips finally met, he let out a soft hum, and then his kiss shifted into one of reassurance.

Your arms slid around his neck as he leaned back against the headboard. His lips moved slowly and tenderly as he held you close to his chest, and they said everything that you needed to know. This was okay, he was okay. Aside from a few errant, washable streaks of crimson on his face, nothing real was actually amiss here.

He may have been teasing you before, but he was also loving you. The experiment had yielded far less than stellar results, but that was still okay. A suitable ensemble for the party would be found eventually - or perhaps just better make-up products - and the two of you were still going to have as much fun as someone could have at a corporate holiday party, even if there were a few extra pairs of wandering eyes there.

After another moment or two, the kiss broke naturally. You let out a slow breath and pressed your forehead to his. “Alright, I fully admit that I completely suck at face-painting. We don’t have to go down that route…”

Loki smiled and nodded. A glimmering wash of emerald erased any evidence of red from all skin and clothing. “Yes, I’m quite certain that we can come up with something else…”

By revealing his mortal partner to the world, you’d hoped it would soften the rough edges of Loki that his detractors wanted to keep illuminated underneath a hateful microscope. You’d wanted to protect him, to make his life simpler, to possibly ease his troubled integration on the planet he’d once tried to subjugate.

But the relaxed smile on his lips told you that he didn’t need you to do any of those things. Loki was from the stars, yes, but he only ever clung to one specific thing. He may have come from on high, his perspective and past experiences originating from a millennia away from yours, but he was still here, looking at you. Loving only you.

You were his, and he was yours. No amount of criticism, or any blades held to his throat, or cruel darts thrown at his loving eyes were ever going to avert his gaze. They could make him climb mountains on mountains to get to you, but as long as there were sunbirds to soar back down with, then it was all worth it, wasn’t it?

Your hands slid into his hair, gently tangling themselves within his dark curls. Your eyes roamed slowly over his angular features and icy blue eyes, admiring the planes of his cheekbones and the true depth of his gaze that simultaneously showcased both the wide expanse of outer space and your own reflection within his irises.

Loki was timeless. He was broken and hopeful, grateful and almost too intelligent to not know better. He was pensive, and he understood light and dark better than anyone else you’d ever met. The noir shadows of his heart were what had initially drawn you in, but the hidden brilliance of his glowing soul was what had made you stay.

A new idea coalesced inside your heart, and you settled your hips to his with a sly grin. “Are you by any chance familiar with my favorite David Bowie persona?”

Loki smiled again, but this time he shook his head. “Are you really only telling me now that the Space Oddity himself is not your favorite persona of his?” he murmured curiously.

You bit your lip and reached for your laptop on the nightstand, eager to introduce him to something brand new once more.

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

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meowzfordayz · 2 years ago

Text

analysis (; — hashira men

Author’s Note: took this not-actually-a-prompt and got carried away heh... 😌

analysis (; — hashira men

Himejima Gyomei x Reader, Iguro Obanai x Reader, Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~2,200

CW: 18+NSFW, degrading language, explicit language, Fem!Reader, oral, spit, squirting

Thirst Fulfilled: I NEED someone to settle an argument between me and a friend-

Do you think sanemi has a big [redacted]-

Because I KNOW he is packing a huge one.

Ps I’m sorry but I don’t know who else to ask 😭

~faqs~

Update as of 12 May 2023: A foreword that these headcanons are first and foremost indulgent !! 😌 They are not intended to be realistic. They’re supposed to be fun. Hot. 🥵 Within the realm of possibility, but not ~normal. 😉

Dick so big it has him blushing 🤭

—I mean, c’mon: Look at him 😳

That being said, it’s also very pretty — not monstrous or scary (besides its size heh)

A nice, rounded head that oozes precum throughout foreplay, sensitive and rosy pink as you flick your tongue across it, thick and heavy balls tightening at the breathy moan in your throat

A delicate vein curves from its base to the underside of the tip, thankfully not too pronounced, bc it’ll stretch you out enough regardless

Speaking of stretch…

Your fingers can barely wrap around its girth — it’s much easier to drool and lap at the shaft than commit to anything close to deep throating (unless your jaw stamina’s through the roof 👀)

Doesn’t exactly groom himself, but that isn’t too much of an issue since it’s not like his pubic hair’s getting in your way too often (re: dick too huge to regularly deepthroat)

As for length, Gyomei’s in the ball park of ~reasonable (10 inches when erect), but it still requires a hell of a lot of prep before you’re fully seated on his cock, ass flush against his flexed thighs while large, sweaty hands grip your hips in a feeble attempt to restrain himself from immediately thrusting into your dimly throbbing cervix

“This okay?” he murmurs, thumbs pressing firmly into the softness of your skin, low groan caught in his chest at the suffocating heat of your pussy, your shaky, faintly pained breaths keeping his desire in check

“Take as much time as you need,” as you use his stomach to steady yourself, muscles rippling beneath your palms

“You feel wonderful,” whispered gently—patient as ever—even as he longs to raise your trembling body up and almost off of his cock, only to fuck the air out of your lungs w/ a single, smooth drop of your wanton weight, unsuspecting wail music to his ears as you convulse in orgasm at the overwhelming pressure of his cock stuffing your puffy walls

Obanai’s closer to average, but he isn’t small (at least, his dick isn’t 😆 #short king)

Def a grower, slim, veiny shaft elongating (to ~6 inches) as you stroke him w/ a practiced flick of your wrist

Not exactly related to his dick, but he also def growls during foreplay, needy and eager to melt into you and to ruin you — just depends on his mood, yanno?

His head is the kind of head that you almost wanna chomp 🤗, all squishy, bulbous, and fat, quickly reddening and weeping precum, making a mess of your fingers

Perfect lubrication for touching yourself while sucking him off, gleam in his eyes at how filthy you are

Typically can’t be bothered to trim his pubic hair, but it doesn’t get especially long anyway — more so coarse and curly

His shaft doesn’t stretch you out significantly, sliding easily into your slick heat, hovering above you as his hands keep your legs parted widely, “You like being splayed out for me, hm?” pinching lightly at your inner thigh, grinning smugly as you whimper contently, “My precious plaything.”

But it (his shaft) does have a wicked, upward curve, tip grinding firm and repetitive against the spongy bundle of nerves deep in your pussy

And its veins 🤤

What he lacks in girth, he makes up for in texture

Plus, Obanai 11/10 fucks aggressive and erratic, pubic bone flush to your clit, friction delicious and constant as he thrusts full force into your hole, sweat dripping from his brow onto your clavicle, his eyes narrowed in lust and passion, balls slapping sticky against your asshole, less concerned about hurting you since he’s aware that he isn’t ~the biggest guy on the block

Altho, if he’s tired, then he lowkey enjoys you on top, edging him w/ every slow and steady undulation of your hips, your tits pressed warm and hot to his chest as he clings to you and the squelch of your cunt

For whatever reason, my immediate thought was: Raging! Hard! On! 😂😍

Kyojuro’s absolutely packing, but still decently proportionate to his stature (177cm aka 5’10”)

—Bc, contrary to porn-pular belief, comically large dicks hurt 😒💀

8 inches erect, and a sizeable bulge when flaccid

—Never thought I’d use this term, bc (imo) it’s hot when I’m horny, but 🥴 when I’m ~sober 😆…

BREEDER BALLS

As much as Kyojuro loves worshiping your pussy, he might love when you worship his balls more 🤭

You kissing, sucking, licking his balls while he jerks himself off = 100% orgasm guarantee

Drooling on his shiny, reddening tip, your spit trickling down between his fingers, making a mess of your lips as you return to fondling his balls w/ your mouth?

110% orgasm guarantee

Prefers cumming on your tits, btw — will stave off his orgasm until you can get ~in position ☺️

Nothing like an even messier round two 😎

Bc, ofc, he is more than happy to reciprocate the pleasure 💞

W/ enough girth to warrant a gradual sinking (vs an abrupt thrust to the hilt), his shaft fills you breathless, its last couple of inches just barely fitting into your heat

“Can’t believe you’re already hard again,” you giggle delightedly, eyes hazy as he smears his cum across your nipple, throbbing head pressing deeper into your pussy, “You’re insatiable, I swear.”

A heady groan is his only response, gaze bright and attentive as always, reaching for your hand, dipping your thumb into his cum splatter, tasting himself on your skin as he maintains eye contact

“Fuck,” you gasp, pussy clenching at his nonchalance, tongue swiping subconsciously along your bottom lip

“Taste?” he offers, enthusiastic tone muted by the determined pressure of him lapping at your other nipple, his cum bitter and warm as he kisses you sloppy and needy, grip gentle on your jaw as he inhales your scent

And then you whisper Umai!

One word: brutal 😵‍💫

Not bc he’s ridiculously hung (i.e. Gyomei), but bc he’s ridiculously good (at using his dick)

—I actually headcanon Sanemi being a ~bashful virgin (sex can be intimate, and intimacy can be scary, but he loves you, so if that means being soft and scared w/ you… then he’s willing to go there 🥺🤍), buuut once he’s comfortable/well practiced?

—😈😈😈

Not much of a show-er when flaccid (and absolutely, positively shriveled when cold 😂), but an ideal 7 inches when erect w/ girth in between Gyomei and Kyojuro (slimmer than Gyo, thicker than Kyo)

His tip seems to get ~angrier the longer you tease him, going from an almost cute pink to an engorged, lustful red — def the hardest part about fitting him in your pussy, breath catching every time he finally slips into your dripping hole

Which, he has to get you dripping before attempting to penetrate, or at least use lube, bc rushed sex + his dick = not super enjoyable

Alternatively, he’ll facefuck you to get his dick wet enough for your pussy, 7 inches manageable, albeit veering on unpleasant, your nails digging into his flexed ass as he shoves himself languid and satisfied into your mouth, head twitching and leaking precum down the back of your throat whenever you gag on his length

“Watch your teeth,” he grunts lowly, tugging warningly at your hair, swallowing a moan as his cock muffles your whimper, eyes watering at his roughness, “Don’t make me gag and choke you,” calloused fingers brushing soothingly—promisingly—at your neck

In terms of pubic hair, he keeps it neatly trimmed, but not clean shaven: he likes hearing—seeing—the filthy mess of your saliva, tears, and precum as he fucks up and into your pussy

“Is this fast enough for you?” he snarls, your body balanced precariously atop his pelvis, grip nearly bruising on your hips as he smirks knowingly, “Obviously not,” pace frenzied as you moan raggedly, “If you’re still moaning like a whore, then it isn’t fast enough.”

Feet shifting beneath him in search of a different angle, grin triumphant and deadly as you shout silently, head tilted backward, tits bouncing in mesmerizing sync w/ his thrusts

“There we go,” he murmurs, balls tightening at your fucked out expression, “There’s my perfect cunt, squeezing all pathetic and hopeless around my cock,” stamina never ending, pussydrunk on the feeling of you, “Can’t wait for you to cum on my cock, gonna make this cunt so fucking sloppy.”

The prettiest dick 😭

—Ik I mentioned Gyomei’s dick being pretty too, but Giyuu takes pretty to another lvl 🥺

Aka Giyuu has the Goldilocks Cock™ 💀

Just shy of 7 inches, w/ thin veins that curl neat and yummy around his shaft — which, btw, is thick enough to have you pushing on his shoulders Slowly, p-please as the tip catches on your entrance, his eyes hooded and glassy as he ignores you in favor of thrusting in further Sorry not sorry at all You feel so g-good

A faint shudder trembles down his spine, pooling in his groin, traveling along his girth, head twitching in the viscous grip of your heat

Maintains a tidy patch of pubic hair, delicate happy trail tantalizing and subtle whenever he stretches 🥱

As for his balls… once again: Goldilocks Balls™ 🤤

Optimally sized for sucking into your mouth, hanging beautifully even, downy hairs tickling your nose as he cups the back of your head, quiet groans spilling from his cherry bitten lips as you glance toward his fluttering lashes, your vision obscured by the muscle of his tensed inner thigh

Giyuu’s fave position?

—for these headcanons, at least 😆

Cowgirl 🤠 #yee #haw

Your pussy clings to his shaft like a greedy vice, creamy essence smearing from your swollen folds to his lower abdomen, tits presented as you arch backward, using his legs to steady yourself as you fuck yourself on his (perfect) cock

“Touch yourself,” he demands softly, spreading your asscheeks w/ surprisingly cool hands, easily supporting your weight, eyes closing at the satisfying smack of your skin bouncing against his

“Touch yourself till you cum,” his biceps hardly straining as you chase your orgasm, rhythm smooth and delectable, “I want to feel you fall apart,” murmured slick and gentle, in stark contrast to the lewd squish of his balls tapping your asshole

“C’mon sweetheart, fall apart for me, so gorgeous on my cock, love feeling you gush all over me.”

—I pondered long and hard about Tengen’s dick (both puns intended 🤗)

—Lemme organize my thoughts for a sec…

—Girth (from wide to slim): Gyomei, Tengen, Sanemi, Kyojuro, Giyuu, Obanai

—Length (from long to ~short): Gyomei, Tengen, Kyojuro, Sanemi, Giyuu, Obanai

In other words, as the second tallest, Tengen also happens to be the second biggest 🙃

—I initially considered putting him behind Kyo in terms of length, but 198cm aka 6’6” vs 177cm aka 5’10”... the math just wouldn’t have mathed 😆

Erect, Tengen measures a solid 9 inches, and if Obanai’s dick is veiny, then Tengen’s dick = veins GALORE 😵

“Even my dick is flashy! 😎” “It has ✨decor✨!”

His shaft bends slightly downward (blame gravity — his dick’s so fucking heavy 😌), so certain positions can be a bit tricky, but damn if he doesn’t rearrange your insides 🤪

Def enjoys being the center of attention, fucking slow and confident into your stretched out hole, dirty talk muffled by Makio’s thighs as he maintains a steady rhythm licking her folds, Hina’s index finger slim and practiced as she stimulates your clit, Suma’s tongue gliding wet and hot against Tengen’s taint

“What was that?” Makio coos, eyes twinkling as she grinds firmly onto Tengen’s mouth, “We can’t understand you dear,” squealing when he smacks her tits, “You seem a bit preoccupied, try speaking up.”

“S-shit,” you gasp, gripping Hina’s hand, pressure building as Tengen thrusts sharply into you, “D-don’t encourage him Makio,” whining as Hina latches onto your nipple, sucking lightly

“Why not?” Makio giggles, ass wiggling playfully, “Can’t take it?” knowing all too well that, ultimately, your pussy’s paying the price for her teasing

“Hm, you’re so messy babe,” Suma sighs contently, pausing her ministrations to kiss Tengen’s thigh, lips shiny w/ spit and your essence, “Seems like you want Makio to encourage him.”

Hina nods in agreement, eyes narrowed devilishly, twisting your other nipple, “Her clit’s throbbing,” spoken w/ unbearable casualness, “I think she’s going to cum.”

“Are you going to cum?” Tengen asks conversationally, finally taking a breath from Makio’s pussy, engorged tip twitching in your cunt, “I’ve hardly ruined you, and you’re already spasming on my cock.”

“T-tengen,” you whimper, clenching at his taunting tone, falling forward, cheek smooshed into Makio’s back, “So fucking d-deep,” stuttering as the new angle forces his fat head flush to the entrance of your cervix

“Think we can get her to squirt?” Tengen hums smugly, a hypothetical question, really, as you begin convulsing, pussy gushing messily onto his stomach, Hina’s hand glistening, ignoring your meek mewls of T-too much! as she continues rubbing your clit, Suma lapping at your cum as it coats Tengen’s balls, trickling between his asscheeks

#hashira x reader #headcanons #modern au #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #himejima gyomei #gyomei x reader #iguro obanai #obanai x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi x reader #tomioka giyuu #giyuu x reader #uzui tengen #tengen x reader

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marthawrites · 10 months ago

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could you write smut for Aemond like prompts 1, 15, 11, 52, 49, 25, 13, and 26? They are all so good 🥹 Reader could be his betrothed (Targaryen would be perfect but if you aren't comfortable then Stark is great) and Aemond didn't want to wait until the wedding

Hello dear nonnie! You requested this back in September - I apologize for making you wait so long for this story. If you're still around I hope it's what you want, and that you enjoy this rendition of Aemond and his (fanon) niece!

Shadows, Beastsong, and Dragonblood

Aemond Targaryen x niece reader

Word count: 7.6k+ (whoops)

About: Growing up you and your uncle Aemond always shared a special kinship. As you grew older, tension between your family and his rose. Moving to Dragonstone led to long years of not seeing each other. When you and your mother visited her father, King Viserys, yours and Aemond's relationship changed. It changed further, years later, upon your final visit to the capitol.

Includes: Fluff, angst, tension, and smut. Featuring incest (uncle x niece), mentions of Aemond's virginity loss at the brothel, mentions of minors sexually experimenting, male receiving oral sex, vaginal fingering, adult reader's virginity loss, and unprotected vaginal sex.

Note: Hello lovely reader! This story follows canon events. HERE is the prompt list used. Reader is technically a Velaryon!Strong bastard who personally identifies as a Targaryen because she looks just like her mother, Rhaenyra. Reader is implied to have pale skin, silver hair, and purple eyes - everything else is entirely up to you. Rhaenys has her canon black hair in this fic. I heavily debated about breaking this into three parts but decided to keep it as a single story. This fic has many firsts for me and it's different than those I've written in the past. It took a lot of effort and I hope you enjoy it!

The years following Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon’s marriage bared fruit after fruit. It wasn't long long after Jacaerys’ birth that Rhaenyra began to show signs of another pregnancy. A woman’s body goes through tremendous changes during, for, and after childbirth, and sometimes her moon cycle can take half a year to return to normal. The princess’ first moon’s blood after his birth hadn’t the chance to appear before the maester’s deemed her pregnant for a second time.

Another boy, Laenor hoped, to help strengthen the Velaryon line. A healthy babe, Rhaenyra hoped, to love and grow.

Their second child was pinker and paler than Jace upon entering the world. Unlike your brother who had a fine covering of dark hair over his head, yours was so pale it looked akin to winter’s first snow upon your head. A tiny, sweet, healthy baby girl who would grow into the very image of your mother.

And, again, after you came into the world, Rhaenyra showed signs of pregnancy soon after. Laenor got what he hoped for with their third child: another boy, Lucerys, with a splattering of dark hair over his head, too.

Another three years would pass before your little brother, Joffrey, was born. Dark of hair and dark of eyes just like his two older brothers.

As you all grew, none of your brothers showed any signs of Targaryen or Velaryon features. They all had rich brown eyes, dark curly hair, and were quicker to tan than you. Whereas you were a copy of your mother. A true Targaryen beauty: silver hair, pale skin, and eyes the color of amethyst. If Rhaenrya was the Realm’s Delight, then you were the Charm of the Realm. The only thing you lacked as a Targaryen was a dragon. Disappointingly, the egg that was placed in your crib never hatched. The older you grew, and the more you learned of the world, the more you hoped to have a dragon of your very own one day. Rides on Syrax with your mother–thrilling as they were–left you sad. You wanted to be in charge of the reins. You wanted to speak and command a dragon. You wanted the power of your Targaryen ancestors; a conqueror like Queen Visenya or Queen Rhaenys.

You and your brothers grew alongside your uncles, Aegon and Aemond, and your aunt, Helaena, in King’s Landing. As young children you all, for the most part, got along well. You and your uncle Aemond shared one profound thing together: neither of you had a dragon. It was a topic of extreme sensitivity for him. And because of this, sadness, anger, and even embarrassment hung around him from a young age. You wouldn’t lie and say you didn’t carry those emotions in your heart, too, because you did, but Aemond’s was heavier. Suffocating.

Shameful.

When everyone else trained in the dragonpit you and Aemond were known to stay in the library together. You bonded quickly through tales of your shared ancestry, love of philosophy, and the histories. Much to Aemond's annoyance, your penmanship surpassed his own. When you told your mother you wanted to be a scribe when you grew older she laughed. “Princesses aren't scribes. You will do much more wondrous things than live your life by the quill.”

You nodded, ever sweet to your mother, and still practiced your writing. Your septa and parents praised you–and Aemond scowled in your retellings. It made you giggle. It was harmless and the extra attention (however negative it seemed to be) from your uncle who was barely older than you made your heart soar; emotions you couldn’t quite name soared too.

He surpassed you in everything physical. If it happened in the training yard, he had you beat by a league.

You surpassed him in subtlety. At first, you were the one who snuck up on him. You were the one who showed him secret passageways in the Red Keep, as well as hidden nooks and crannies that had surely been forgotten.

It didn’t take Aemond long to exceed your skill, however.

Time went on and life continued. With each passing year the innocence of childhood melted like candlewax. You all stopped playing as often until play happened no longer. When once there were shared sweets, games of tag, and exaggerated stories of ‘grand adventures’ to the stables, now there was gossip. Whispered words, sniggers behind hands, and an air of aloofness that had never been there before took over.

“Why do you and your family treat me and my brothers like this now, uncle?” You asked Aemond with flushed cheeks and eyes filled with unshed tears. Whether it were anger or hurt he could not tell. Your heart couldn't, either.

“They look nothing of their father. Or my sister,” he answered plainly with an edge of something you couldn't quite decipher.

“And what of our cousin Rhaenys? Hm? The Baratheon blood runs strong in her for she is black of hair. No different than my brothers!”

“‘Tis different,” Aemond answered curtly, still refraining from speaking bluntly to you about what his mother gossiped about.

“It's not!” You proclaimed.

Not long after that confrontation did Laena Velaryon suffer an unfortunate death. Her funeral was memorialized in King's Landing with the closest of her kin. And, as the God's would have it, it was that fateful night Aemond gained a dragon–Vhagar, the largest and oldest in the world–in exchange for his eye.

A small price to pay for the way the young prince would bloom beneath her wings.

Rhaenyra’s family, as well as Alicent’s family, were all summoned by King Viserys to make sense of what happened to Aemond and why it happened. Tension swelled and crackled through the collected room like living storm clouds. You stood quietly behind your mother, purple eyes wide and scared as you surveyed the chaos. Even as all the kids yelled over one another trying to make their side of the story heard, you didn’t utter a peep. How desperately you wanted to ask Aemond himself what happened. How terribly you wanted to hold his hand through the pain of his slashed face being stitched up. How awfully you wanted to kiss him if only to let him know he could still feel something–to see if he could still feel something.

The King seemed to hold no love for his son as he asked him–ordered him–to tell the truth. You felt your heart breaking as you witnessed father and son hold a stare off that could alight the entire room aflame. Two dragons, one old and one young, challenging each other, daring each other, their teeth seconds away from rending into the other.

The following moments were a blur and you didn’t realize what was happening until Alicent ran to your mother with her husband’s dagger clenched in her hand. You screamed and were pulled away in time to not get pushed or stumbled over. Blood spilled and the tension broke in a devastating clash of emotions. Emotions you, as a child, couldn’t understand, not fully.

Kings Landing was no longer safe for your family.

During the following days, before departing for Dragonstone, you were able to sneak to Aemond a handful of times. He didn’t talk much. You never pressured him to. Often, it was only silence and your uncle’s soft sobs that filled the otherwise quietness of his bedchamber. It was at the peak of those times, those heart wrenchingly raw moments, that you would sing to him. Admittedly you were no singer–flat most of the time and awkwardly sharp at others–but neither of you cared. You weren’t even sure if the song you sang was proper in its pacing and pronunciations. It was a song you both deemed secret: learned from the pages of an Old Valyria history book, paced to your own tune, the ancient words were sung with all the wonder of adolescence.

Vhargar and Aemond’s bond had already been forged by grit, determination, and a kind of stupidity that only young boys held, and it grew by the day. You weren’t sure if Vhagar’s roars were louder while Aemond quietly sobbed into your comforting embrace, or while he was utterly silent. You wondered what brewed beneath the surface during those times. Part of you was afraid of what that silence might gestate. There were many tales of beasts being soothed by music, and so you sang and hoped your ancient song might keep his beast at bay.

“We’re leaving for Dragonstone at first light, uncle,” you said to him a little sadly. You hadn’t ever been away from Aemond. Would the libraries at Dragonstone offer the same respite as the ones here at King's Landing? Would you see hopeful glimpses of him from the corner of your eye only to realize it a play of your imagination?

While he acknowledged your words he didn’t say anything in reply.

“When do you think we’ll see each other again?” You asked softly, tentatively.

“Likely when we are grown and free to make our own decisions,” he answered, words flat.

It stung. It hurt. “Then I shall tame one of the wild dragons and fly to visit you.” Aemond’s single eye, that lovely hue so similar and so different to your own, glittered at you for the briefest second. So he can still feel things, you thought to yourself. The corner of his mouth twitched in tandem, and before you could stop yourself you learned forward and pressed the gentlest kiss to the outside of his mouth. You didn’t stay to catch his reaction for you turned on your heel and walked down the secret passage from whence you came; naught more than a whisper of silken skirts.

Such affection would be improper by Gods and men alike if you were born of a different bloodline. The Targaryens were closer to Gods than men, however, and so you did not have to play life by man’s traditions. The blood of the dragon runs thick, and your heart pulled to Aemond. A surge of energy rushed through you and you wanted nothing more than to kiss him properly. But when you turned to look over your shoulder, you only saw darkness. He was already gone.

II.

Dragonstone’s libraries were much different than the big library in the Red Keep. Over the following years, you finally, slowly, began to feel peace akin to what you and Aemond shared. Similar, but not quite.

Rhaenyra married her uncle Daemon and they had given you two more little brothers: Aegon and Viserys. Part of you missed life in King’s Landing with its bright sunshine, lavish gardens, and wide populace. Despite the grimness of Dragonstone, however, this place truly felt like home. An ancient seat of Targaryen glory, the the Targaryen's of old spared nothing while crafting this castle with arcane arts, dragonfire, and sorcery. The fabled magic of it sent your veins thrumming. If it weren’t for Aemond you might not ever want to go back to King’s Landing. Aegon’s garden was your favorite place in all of Dragonstone with its tall dark trees, wild roses, and thorny hedges. You wrote diary entries as well as letters there. You and Aemond wrote back and forth a few times over the years, but just like in childhood when games of chase were played no more, your letters, too, stopped. Still, the garden with its piney scent and tart cranberries remained your place of solace.

A letter from King Viserys arrived some time after you’d turned fifteen. Rhaenyra pulled you aside that same day, away from your brothers, and said, “father’s health is beginning to fail. I'm going to see him. Daemon said he will stay here while I visit on dragonback. Would you like to come with me? I’d love for you to. And I know Syrax would too,” she smiled hopefully, giving your forearm a gentle squeeze in annunciation.

You blinked, slightly taken back, before beaming a bright smile. “Of course, mother! I miss my grandfather and would love to see him.”

“I’ll send a raven. Perhaps he will have a belated nameday gift for you,” your mother answered with one of her playful expressions.

A return letter was indeed sent and over the next few days Rhaenyra and Daemon made plans for the upcoming week. It wouldn’t be a long stay but that didn’t stop excitement from crawling up your spine and settling in your belly. How would uncle Aemond be? It’d been so long since you two had seen each other! It'd even been a long time since you wrote to one another. Would he remember you as you remembered him? Would he even care to see you?

You donned your warmest wool and most comfortable leathers for the flight to King’s Landing. Gray clouds broke to open blue sky and the brisk salty air had you feeling like you were in charge of the flight. Syrax knew the way well and flew right where she knew to–the dragonpit.

There wasn’t a grand welcome for your arrival and yet somehow it felt more comfortable than being paraded around for hours on end and being forced to entertain a grandiose feast. Viserys–he did look ailing, much more than you last remembered–and Alicent welcomed Rhaenyra and yourself. Ser Criston Cole and Aemond stood with them.

He did want to see you!

“Father! I’m sorry we haven’t been back sooner. Daemon and I–”

Excited hugs were exchanged between the three of you, and the conversation droned out as pressure built behind your ears; dull ringing taking over as anxiety, excitement, and something else unnamed thrilled along your spine. Aemond, only a short time older than you, was no longer the boy you remembered. He’d grown tall and sharp. Any softness of childhood melted away during the last few years. Placed over his damaged left eye was a simple black leather eyepatch. It stood out starkly against his pale complexion–though, it matched the rest of his black leather attire. His slash healed well, you thought privately, but a gnarly scar remained. It looked painful.

Aemond peered at you looking at him; keen. Something simmered beneath his eye and you were reminded of singing to him all those years ago–how you’d hoped to soothe any beast that might be growing in the shadows. The corners of his bowed mouth quirked.

“Darling?” Your mother asked, her voice finally making sense in your head as she turned to regard you closer. “Are you feeling okay?”

With a quick flutter of blinks you looked up to her. “Sorry. Yes, I’m feeling alright. A bit tired from the flight is all. May I have a snack before supper?”

“Of course,” she replied with a reassuring squeeze of your hand.

Alicent smiled. You always thought her pretty. A part of you wondered how none of her children shared her brown eyes or auburn hair. “Check with the kitchen. I’m sure there’s breads and cheeses available at the very least. Wine, too, I imagine.” She looked between you and Aemond before adding, “let Aemond take you. He’s been quite excited to see you since Rhaenyra’s letter.”

“Uncle,” you breathed, surprised by your lack of breath upon saying his name. “I daresay I barely recognize you.”

“I could say the same, niece. It's been many years,” he said with an inclination of his head. “You are looking a little faint. Let’s find you some food, hm?” He asked.

At first, conversation proved to be sparse. Before, things had always been so easy with Aemond and silence had always been comfortable. Now, it didn’t feel easy nor did the silence feel comfortable. Anytime you looked up at him, or over to him, he was already looking at you. His attention barely seemed to wander elsewhere. You ate until you felt better while Aemond pretended to eat. Slowly, with effort on your part, conversation picked up. Before too long the air of awkwardness lifted and your shoulders relaxed.

Aemond seemed to notice, too.

Three days followed and each proved to be more eventful than the last. You’d met up with your aunt and uncle, Helaena and Aegon, and happily–even if Aegon's jests were more perverse than you ever remembered–caught up with them. They were married now. Though, you saw no sort of physical or emotional connection between them. You liked Helaena; you wondered, privately, if life was treating her well, and if she found any enjoyment within it. The faraway look in her eyes suggested not, but you remembered her always being a peculiar child. She didn’t always have both feet in this world, you realized, and you didn’t feel any sort of jealousy for her otherworldly gift. Did dreamers fall into a silent abyss while slumbering? Or did they even dream when they slept, resulting in a never ending barrage of sight and madness?

On the fourth day Aemond introduced you to Vhagar. Sympathy–or perhaps pity–shone in his eye when you told him you still hadn’t bonded with a dragon. “And here I remember you saying you would tame a wild dragon so you might fly across the sea to visit me?” He proclaimed with an arch of brow, snark and jest in equal measurements.

“It’s not quite so easy. I enjoy my skin and my hair. I have heard many tales of brave men trying to bond with those dragons only to end up as a pile of ash. Or forever scarred. Or–” you lowered your voice and tipped closer to him, adding with a whisper, “–lacking of limbs.” You tilted your chin, purple eyes glittering with playfulness; teasing, testing.

“Hm,” he stifled a laugh with a press of his lips. “Both of those are a marvel. It would very much be a shame to scathe the beauty of Old Valyria.”

Your heart jumped and you blushed. Surely he was only being kind, right?

He flew you on Vhargar until the spilled watercolors of sunset mottled into gray. Upon returning to the Red Keep, tucked away in one of your secret childhood places, Aemond dared to kiss your lips. Stunned and exhilarated alike, you returned the affection with fervor. He wasn’t your first kiss, but the things that sparked and webbed through your body were much more intense than any before. “Aemond…,” you whispered against his mouth. “We shouldn’t be doing this, uncle.”

“You can stop any time,” he rasped in reply, eye dark.

In a shuddered breath you admitted, “I don’t want to.”

“Me either.”

You kissed until voices and footsteps filled the nearby corridor. Hiding your giggles behind a hand, you slunk away in direction to your chamber leaving Aemond behind. You turned to see where he might be going. Already he’d turned on his heel and strode in the opposite way. He didn’t follow. That night–with a thundering pulse– you dreamt of wild roses, flying, and your hands on your uncle’s chest while he kissed your neck.

The following day was yours and your mother’s last day in the capitol. She intended to leave after lunch, and until then she let you do as you please. Requesting, of course, to be back in time to leave on time. With how much you missed the rest of your family you could only imagine how much she missed them!

“Come to Dragonstone with us. I don’t want to leave you so soon. I can show you all my favorite places at home. At the ancient seat of our family,” you added the last bit with bright eyes in hopes of seducing him away with you.

“My place is not there,” replied Aemond. “I am to stay here with my mother and siblings. ‘Tis my duty as second son.”

You knew, as second son, that Aemond would have to carve his own path with fire, blood, and teeth–heavy emphasis on the latter, most likely.

“Daemon can train you. Our castle yard has an impressive training pit. It’s different from the one here. Everything is different there. There’s some nights when the magic in the walls makes my blood sing. There is no magic like that left here,” you tried to coax him further, stepping close so you had to look up at him with soft eyes. Eager eyes.

Instead of accepting or denying your request he leaned down and kissed you like he did yesterday. And just like yesterday you warmly accepted the affection. The blood of the dragon runs thick, and dragonblood runs hot. Despite your relation, and despite yourself, you found yourself wanting. Needing. He was too. You could tell by the tightness of his pants. Two young dragons hidden away amongst sparse candlelight in a secret passage perhaps only Maegor the Cruel knew of. “I’ve always wanted to try something. Will… will you let me?”

He pulled back to peer at you curiously. “What is it?”

Slowly, running on an instinct that any wanton young woman harbored, you sank down onto your knees before him. “You can tell me to stop at any time. Okay?”

Aemond wasn’t an idiot. He nearly spent in his pants at the very sight of you lowering like that. Aegon had taken him to a brothel on the Street of Silk for his thirteenth nameday, and he lost the last innocence of boyhood within those perfumed walls; a secret not many knew. And, perhaps less knew how much he despised it–how it disgusted him. The thought still made his stomach turn.

But you? His beautiful, perfect niece, with your epitome of Targaryen beauty?

He never asked you to stop as you sated your curiosity. The rush of sensation that blazed through his body was more intense than anything he’d yet experienced. At the peak of his pleasure he swore he blacked out.

He returned the gift as best as he could with his fingers.

You barely made it back in time to your mother to fly back home. You sincerely hoped she didn’t ask any questions about where you were or why you were running late.

III.

As the Gods would have it, it would be another few years before Rhaenyra and her family were summoned to King’s Landing for, perhaps, an even more dire situation than the first: the legitimacy of Lucerys’ claim to Driftmark and its throne. It was a matter already settled many years ago by none other than King Viserys. Yet, still, conflict stirred with Vaemond Velaryon and his proclamation.

A never ending political headache for the King who’s health was in such despair it was a miracle he lived to see each new morning.

Similar to when you and your mother arrived three years prior, there wasn’t a grand welcome awaiting your family. In fact there was… nothing. Tension sparked to new heights and you wanted nothing more than to crawl into yourself and disappear. While not entirely disappearing, you and your brothers made way to the private guest bedchambers; Rhaenyra made sure to have rooms arranged for all of you prior to arriving. Before leaving, she told all of you that she would summon you later once things were settled. Or supper. Whichever came first.

Truthfully you had no plans to eat with everyone. Uncaring of any potential consequence it might bring you loosened your hair, stripped down to your shift, and plopped in bed so heavily that a plume of dust rose from the sheets. If you were less exhausted–mentally and physically–you’d be repulsed by the dust. Right now? You cared little.

Slumber washed over you like the waves you were so used to at home.

You didn’t wake until hours later when a servant rapped over and over upon your door. “My lady? Hello?”

Coughing and turning to face the doorway, you asked, “what is it?”

A young girl stepped inside and bowed. “Your mother has summoned you for dinner.”

“Bring me a plate, please. I have no wish to eat with a crowd tonight.”

She twisted her hands a few times as if in disapproval but said nothing. Instead, she simply nodded, bowed again, and left with a click of the door.

That night you ate alone and silently hoped Aemond would come find you. Surely he knew ways around the Keep that would lead him to you... But, he never did. After eating your fill you slept like the dead.

Sunrise gently woke you and gradually you began to prepare for the day. Once ready to get dressed, you were confused to see your dress on the floor instead of on the back of the chair you hung it over last night. Strange… you thought to yourself, scanning around the room for what might have caused it. A section of curtain fluttered with morning breeze and when you walked to inspect it you realized the window had been partially cracked. You laughed a short sound and rolled your eyes–how silly to be paranoid about the breeze. You couldn’t remember any strong gusts last night, but you did sleep very hard.

Fully around, now, you made your way to find breakfast. Eventually you did and broke fast with your brothers. For a few moments it felt like you were all children again. Talking, laughing, stealing bits of food off each other’s plates, it felt… good. Homey. Lighthearted in a way only they could make you feel. Once finished, they departed for the training yard and you went to explore the gardens. There might not be any wild roses here and the hedges might be considerably less thorny than those at Dragonstone, but that didn’t stop you from missing it.

Flowers, shrubs, and trees were in full beautiful display and their fragrances sent you right back to childhood. You lost track of how long you wandered. At least a full hour, surely. Likely more. It wasn’t until you heard your name spoken behind you that you snapped back to reality. Turning to look over your shoulder, you stuttered, excited and surprised, “Aemond!”

He stood taller and sharper than he did three years ago. He was a man grown, now, just like you were a woman grown. Gone were any traces of awkward lankiness. He was slim, yes, but judging by the width of his shoulders he had a strong back and arms. “Niece,” he replied. “Your brothers graced my training session earlier. As did Vaemond Velaryon and his entourage,” he paused to inspect a bit of dirt on his sleeve before folding his arms behind his back. “I thought perhaps your strong brothers might grow into their Velaryon features as they aged. But, alas, they haven’t.”

Prick.

Was he really going right for your throat? Immediately?

“Do you have so little faith in your sister’s lineage” You asked, hands folding behind your back, mirroring him, as you slowly closed the distance between yourselves with deliberate steps. “Myself and all my brothers were grown in the belly of a dragon. Birthed into this world by a dragon. Tell me, uncle, how is that any different than being seeded by a dragon?”

“It is not my sister’s lineage I lack faith in, dear niece, it’s the roots she climbs.”

Fury heated your face and for a moment you considered punching him in his stupid, sharp, beautiful nose. Or perhaps kneeing him in the root he no doubt made reference to. In the span of three heartbeats you settled for neither and instead gave him a disappointing quirk of mouth. “And here I was upset that you didn’t come to say hi to me last night.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I saw you plenty last night.” he said, tone making it seem like everyone watched you sup together even though you ate alone.

You squinted at him suspiciously. “Did you come find me to be rude, or was there another reason you graced my company?”

“We recently received a collection of books from Myr. Would you like to look at them with me?” Hopefulness briefly lit his features. Idly, you wondered what his deal was. He was an outright asshole only a moment ago, and now he offered to read with you like you did so often as children? The library always had been a place of solace for both of you. Mayhaps he was simply nervous today, on edge, and let the ugliness of anxiety guide his tongue. It would be quiet in the library–the perfect place to, perhaps, connect once again as adults.

You continued to look up at him, attempting to read his features, before replying, “sure. Only if we can have tea and scones too.”

It was his turn to squint at you suspiciously.

That made you laugh; tension began to ease around both of you. “I won’t get crumbs on the pages. Promise!”

And so, walking shoulder to shoulder, you both made way to the library. Tea and scones arrived shortly afterward. As soon as you began reading from different tomes conversation began to flow more freely. Nerves might be flying wild everywhere else in the Red Keep, but here? Safely within these walls? You relaxed. Aemond relaxed. There were no more subtle jabs at bastardry, nor Driftmark, nor anything else. Every now and then you’d laugh and Aemond would smile. Other times it was perfectly silent. When you thought him engrossed by something he read, you eyed him carefully through your peripheral vision–and sometimes with your full vision–trying to keep rising sensations at bay. Despite his sharp tongue and rude quips, he was horribly handsome. You thought he was the last time you were here, too, and now those same feelings intensified to new heights. You caught him doing the same to you. Though, he didn’t coyly turn away when caught. Tension of a different sort heated the air around both of you.

Hot-blooded.

Dragonblood.

You ate supper with your mother that night. She and Daemon discussed things from earlier in the day but you paid it little mind–yours was still on Aemond.

After supper you had a quiet night in your bedchamber. You requested a bath, and it didn’t take the servants long to prepare it for you. Soaking in the hot water was exactly what you needed–complete with your favorite oils generously added to the water until sweet florals and subtly spicy scents lingered around you. By the time you were done your fingers and toes were wrinkly and the water was tepid at best. Sitting in front of the vanity, you dried and braided your silver hair for bed. The day’s events–Aemond–proved to be mentally exhausting. Conflicting emotions warred in your mind as you laid in bed and started up at the neat lace underlay of the four poster bed’s silken drapes.

A noise at your door startled you from whatever daydream danced in your head. How was it opening? You triple checked the lock! Who was coming inside? Frozen and wide eyed, you couldn’t move from your spot upon the bed as someone silently intruded. As the figure stepped out of the shadowy frame you took note of their height, body shape, and silver hair… “Aemond!?” You asked shrilly. “Seven Hells what on earth are you doing?”

“Coming to pay a proper visit to my little niece, of course,” he answered with quiet amusement. Standing at the side of your bed, now, he tilted his head and continued, “I requested a specific guard for this duty tonight so I could slip past him.”

You looked up at him as he looked down at you, regarding you closely. Something shone behind his eye and you couldn’t quite put a finger on it. A rush of emotion rose and settled in the pit of your belly as Aemond gently dragged his thumb across your lower lip. Down the curve of your chin. You swallowed thickly. “You could have just as easily knocked like any regular person would, uncle,” you said.

“What's the fun in that?”

Silence followed as you both took each other in, that unknown expression behind his eye becoming more clear. Lust.

Did your own gaze mirror it too? The sound of your blood filled your ears.

“Do you remember the last time you were here? When we were in that passageway all alone?” He asked, tracing the backs of his fingers along your pretty face.

Of course you did. You smiled–coy–and tipped your head into his touch. “Quite well.”

A soft satisfied hum accented the curve of his mouth. “Good.” His fingers pressed against the underside of your chin as he tilted your face up to him, embers sparking through the eye contact. “I've searched for that type of release again and again and have yet to find it,” he said; desperation and intensity so evident you knew he meant it.

Shivers took over your entire body and your spine arched forward, curving as if to seek the sensation of his body against yours. “You have?” You asked between parted lips.

“I have.”

A hot rush of excitement overcame you and before you knew it both of your hands pulled on the buckles of his tunic, pulling him down to you. You kissed him fiercely and he returned it with ferocity. There wasn't anything tentative about it; lips, tongue, teeth, all meshing until you whimpered into his mouth.

Aemond pushed you back on the bed and fell atop you, one arm holding him up for support, as his silken hair draped along his face. He was so warm, and felt so good over you, that you moaned into his kiss again; he swallowed it whole.

You whined, voice raspy and sweet alike, as you tugged on the front of his belt, “again. I want to do it again,”

“Look at you, so needy for my cock,” he rumbled against your neck, kissing and nipping along the sensitive flesh. He grinned warmly into the crook there and you giggled.

Pushing yourself up on your elbows you turned your body so you could push him onto his back. The startle of his angular lovely face was more than enough reward. With the new position you could feel how hard he was inside his pants, and you wondered if he could feel your heat through the thin material of your smallclothes. You slid down the front of his body until you knelt delicately on the floor. Looking up at him as innocently as you could, your hands ran up the lean length of his thighs while you nestled between them. “You left my window open last night,” you whispered at him as your fingers began to unlace the front of his bottoms.

A low, restrained sound came from Aemond at the combination of your touch and words. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he replied with cool indifference, supporting himself partially up with his elbows so he could watch you.

A knowing smile spread on your pretty lips as you answered, “you're a bad liar, uncle.” Kissing the flat plane of his abdomen, you tugged the front of his pants down until he was fully freed; hard, solid, and already blazing with heat. You moved those same kisses lower–placing them all around the base of his need until your nose tickled with his scent. His length twitched, the velvety smoothness of him bumping your face.

Above you, he hissed an inward breath, head tilting to the side. “Go on then, this cock isn't going to suck itself now is it?” He crooned, doing his best to appear in control even though his heart thumped wildly with anticipation and the clawing ache to be inside of you–any part of you–had him going mad.

If the slick between your thighs wasn't already unbearable you'd have retorted his taunt. But, you wanted this nearly as much as him. Lifting one of your hands you gripped around his length, pumping slowly, as you rolled your tongue beneath his tip; tasting him, teasing him, coating that part of him with saliva so you could more easily take him into your mouth.

Aemond could have lost it there–would have lost it if he hadn't already fucked his hand to release prior to visiting you. “Did I tell you you could use your hands?” His eye glittered like dragonglass.

Without having to be told again you released your grip and instead held onto the tops of his thighs with both hands, the wholeness of your expression feline. You licked up each side of his cock, circling your tongue around his head, again and again, coating him to your satisfaction. And then, just when you saw Aemond's hips twitch and flex beneath you, you took him into the fullness of your mouth and consumed him.

He groaned, head tipping back. Countless times had he tried to recreate the pleasure you gave him first; no woman ever made him feel the same way and he hated them for it.

You bobbed, and sucked, and savored the hot solid length of him in your mouth. You dragged and worked your tongue against him, too, lost in the heady sensations of him. The quiet sounds he made coaxed you further and soon you became uncaring of the slobbery mess you were leaving on him. Relaxing your throat, you swallowed as much of his cock as you could. When you gagged at the intrusion you pulled your head up, only to do it again. And again. You moaned around him; wanton.

It was too much for Aemond. Somehow he grew even hotter, even harder, and soon one of his hands pushed your head down while his hips bucked up into your mouth. He panted. Peak was so close. Looking down at you, then, he saw how dazed and desperate you were as he fucked your mouth. The knot of pleasure at the base of his spine exploded and he groaned, guttural, as his balls tightened and cock released down your throat.

You about peaked with him. Breathing through your nose you did your best to take all of him, the hot pulses of his length making you clench around nothing.

“Swallow. All of it,” Aemond said down at you, slowly easing the pressure of his hand on your head.

Panting, you did. You showed him your empty mouth with pride. “Dragonseed is never to be wasted, uncle.”

If Aemond had anything intelligible to say it didn’t leave his mouth properly. Both his hands gripped around your upper arms and he yanked you up, maneuvering you atop the bed once more. Reaching to the open belt around his waist he unsheathed his dagger with a whisper of leather and steel. It glinted orange in the chamber’s lowlight. “My sweet, lecherous niece…,” he said darkly, sweetly, pinning you down to the bed as he loomed above you. “I know how to make you a true Targaryen, bastard,” he hissed the last word into the shell of your ear and reveled in the way he saw your throat tighten in defiance.

You tensed beneath him and he laughed.

“My favorite bastard,” he crooned, trailing his dagger up the front of your body. “I will make you my wife.”

Goosebumps pebbled your skin as he teased you, taunted you, thrilled you with the edge of his blade. He never drew blood. It only grazed your shift. “I already am a Targaryen,” you proclaimed, voice strong despite its softness.

“I’m going to ruin you tonight and you will let me. Mother will have us wed by the turn of the new moon.” He tilted his dagger just slight, just enough, and the delicate material of your shift stood no chance against it. He sliced it open to reveal the fullness of your lovely body; your shape, your form, your clean floral scent… all of it made his mind feral. “Marry me, niece.”

A hundred–no, a thousand–things ran through your mind all at once. You saw and felt him already fully hard once again, and the hot press of his cock against your flushed skin had you losing sanity. “I will,” you breathed, nodding. “I will marry you.”

Aemond tossed his dagger away to instead pull your smallclothes down your legs. “My darling betrothed,” he growled, shouldering off his tunic and undershirt as you lay completely bare beneath him. He didn’t even bother kicking his pants off the rest of the way before he moved between your spread thighs. “Let us promise our union now before any Gods that are watching.”

It was wrong. You knew it. And yet… Your heartbeat pounded in your ears and between your thighs. Madness. Surely this was madness. “We can’t,” you protested weakly.

He laughed another dark sound. “Targaryens are closer to Gods than men. We don’t follow the same rules as everyone else.” One of his hands moved over your breasts, sliding and squeezing over them with reverent affection. His other lowered between your legs and the tips of his fingers brushed over your budded pearl. He nearly snarled at the wetness he met there. He circled that bud. Slid over it. He worked your bundle of nerves, watching you all the while.

“A-Aemond!” You gasped, stuttering. Your nipples pebbled firmer as tension built in your belly, tightening in a way that only you were able to make happen. You needn’t any more convincing to give him your maidenhead. So wrong. But, with Aemond? So, so right. Your thighs spilled open wider for him; inviting him.

The rasp of his thighs pressed against the smooth undersides of your own and slowly, carefully, he lined himself up with your dripping entrance and began to press forward.

Your body yielded and the fullness of him was a sensation unlike anything you’d experienced before. His heat seared into you as he sunk, cautiously, through your opening and past your body’s unmarred barrier. It pinched and you winced, blushed face staring up at him with doe eyes.

Full.

You were so full.

You whimpered a little sound as Aemond’s jaw clenched and a groan rumbled deep in his chest. “You’re doing so well,” he mumbled, the intensity of his eye making you dizzy.

Finally, he was seated all the way inside you. With a heaving chest he held the position for a long moment, knowing you needed the time to adjust just as much as he did. He pulled back and eased back in, testing you. Testing himself. Fuck. He wasn’t going to last long. You were absolutely fucking perfect around him. You breathed his name again, gripping onto any part of his body that you could.

Aemond’s movements became a little more sure with each moment. It didn’t take much longer until he was taking you fully. The softness of your breasts rocked with the motion of his thrusts, your face loosening as pleasure began to take over any pain there might have been. His greedy eye raked down the front of your body so he could watch where you were joined. Each time he pulled out his cock glistened with your slick, and each plunge sent you gasping at the pressure. Never had he seen anything that made his cock, and gut, and chest ache with such need. “You look so pretty with my cock inside you,” he said lowly, barely able to make words.

“Feels good, Aem,” you simpered in reply.

His mouth crashed to yours in a heavy kiss, licking into your mouth so your tongues slid against one another. The soft sound of skin slapping on skin began to grow louder as both of you worked into and against each other’s thrusts. “I’m going to mark that pretty little neck so that everyone knows your mine,” he rasped against your skin as he kissed over your chin, your jaw, until he reached your neck. He nipped there, biting harshly, kissing over each bite mark to soothe any lingering sting. He did it over and over, sucking the sensitive flesh into his mouth until he knew he’d leave a mark behind.

You trembled beneath him, squirming with pleasure, as he fucked into you at an angle and pace that had you soaring. The balance of pain and pleasure was more than anything you’d felt before and you were wholly at its mercy. You scratched his skin as you squeezed your fingers against his lean muscle, marking him as he marked you. “‘S too much,” you whined, breathless.

He only continued. Panting, he said, “I want to hear you scream my name when you come. Understood?”

You nodded, desperate. “Yes, yes yes yes..!”

His pace grew sloppy, frenzied, as his own high threatened to push him over the edge any second. “Give it to me,” he moaned, pleaded. “Come with me.” One of his hands squeezed over your breast again, pinching and tugging the nipple, while the fingers of the other worked your clit.

“Aemond!” You gasped thinly, covering your mouth just in time to muffle the scream that no doubt released with the intensity of your peak. Aemond’s mouth replaced your hand as climax took him, too, cock twitching as spurt after spurt of his seed filled the deepest parts of your body. You both rode it out together, senses buzzing and fuzzy, while the wonderful post-climax bliss sensations intoxicated you more than any wine.

He carefully slid out from your body and nearly grew fucking hard again as he saw the evidence of your maidenhood upon your clean bedsheets.

“You will be the loveliest bride,” he said, relishing the sight of you glowing from pleasure.

Pulling the top quilts back, you beckoned him in, asking, “stay awhile longer?”

He did.

You laid together, limp and blissful, and for the first time in over three years Aemond found himself fully sated.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!

Masterlist

Main Taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @aemondtarqaryens @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @schniiipsel

Aemond Taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @aemonddtargaryen @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @avidreader73 @snh96 @boofy1998 @connorsui

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond imagine #request

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magpie-murder · 1 year ago

Text

it'd be wild if they gave asgard's citizens phones in marvel i bet they'd have the best drama

20 notes

👴🏻 is-odin-dead-yet

No.

#date: 2023/11/23 #when will he croak #i've been running this blog for centuries #frigga for allfather #kick the bucket already i'm getting bored of posting here

112 notes

⛈️ god-of-thunder

I come to Tumblr with a regretful update. As you may know, my family and our fiercest warriors have been traveling between realms in search of our stolen relics.

While attempting to recover one, my brother lost his life in battle while protecting us. He shielded me with his body. My brother died a hero.

einherjarl-deactivated20231120

May he reach Folkvangr. My deepest condolences. But I thought Baldur was impervious to all harm...?

⛈️ god-of-thunder

It was Loki. :( I'm devastated.

einherjarl-deactivated20231120

Oh.

🐍 magic-theatre

is that all you can muster? "oh." you thought i was dead, and that's it? that's all you have? what do you mean by that? let's talk. :)

⛈️ god-of-thunder

You're alive? Where are you?

⛈️ god-of-thunder

Wait, what happened to @einherjarl? He deactivated?

⛈️ god-of-thunder

Loki?

23,034 notes

🎨 bragis-apprentice

Just finished custom making this handle

#metalwork #artists on tumblr #double sided axe #my art

2 notes

⚔️ aesir-warrior-tournament

⚡️LIGHTNING ROUND⚡️

einherjarl-deactivated20231120

Lady Sif is not one of The Warriors Three. It says it in the name. There are three of them. Not four.

Correct this.

✨️ the-dashingest

I voted for Sif.

🪓 valiant-festivals

I voted for Sif.

🔺️ grim-warrior

I voted for Sif.

✨️ the-dashingest

Wait, Hogun? But you didn't tell us you had a phone?

🔺️ grim-warrior

I don't.

#lady sif propaganda #lightning round #poll reblog #only one more round after this! #i'm so glad lady sif doesn't have tumblr lol #i hope you guys dont mind that a mortal is running this blog btw #i really didnt expect any of you to see this 😬 #and srry for the reblog spam #also hogun lol

1,879 notes

🐍 magic-theatre

i see your thirst edits, you sick freaks.

#start tagging me in them #and/or sending them to me

689 notes

⛵️ modern-technologist Follow

umm i'm in ohio to visit my parents and there's like. um . a giant wolf running alongside my car? i'd call animal control but this thing is ginormous and i don't think that would do anything.

it doesnt have a leash or anything (obv its bigger than my car) but it's covered in chains. what do i do??

@identifying-d𝚘gs-in-posts ??

🐕 identifying-dogs-in-posts Follow

Fenrir Lokison?

#😨

197 notes

✨️ the-dashingest

I really don't think Loki is that bad. Sure, he's had a rocky history, but I don't think he's done anything worthy of scorn. Besides, hasn't he just died and come back or something like that, anyway? He has a blank slate, in my book.

#is it just me? #i hear people saying we should banish or kill him #i find that idea preposterous #he's just misunderstood

208 notes

einherjarl-deactivated20231120

I'm not going to @ them, but ugh... Someone I'm acquainted with just died in battle, and honestly? I'm so relieved. Is that terrible? Don't answer that, I know that it is. I'll probably delete this in a few hours.

🐍 magic-theatre

that's what you get for vagueing.

cowards don't go to valhalla.

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🔮 alchemist-aura Follow Sponsored with Blaze 🔥

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zylev-blog · 11 months ago

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Danny is Bruce Wayne

Lots of bad things had happened to Danny. He’d been turned into a half ghost, been cloned, been hunted for sport because of his new species, and had the government turn against him and his parents when they tried to support him. Needless to say, he wasn’t having a good time.

He had been in the Infinite Realm, trying to find a solution to their problems. Supposedly, out of all the dimensions in the Infinite Realm, none of them had ever declared war against them and declared them as a nonsentient species. It had angered a lot of ghosts, with good reason.

When the Fenton portal suddenly disappeared along with Vlad’s portal, he didn’t know what to think. He thought maybe the locations had changed, and searched all around the area, coming up empty. It wasn’t until Clockwork told the ghosts that the dimension had been destroyed did it really set in.

He was alone. The sole survivor. Maybe it was for the best. He just hoped it was quick for his family, and that they didn’t suffer.

What was he supposed to do now? Clockwork took him under his wing and showed him how to have inter-dimensional traveling adventures. The two would pose as father and son (not that it was an untrue statement at this point) and they explored the multiverse together. They’d fought demons, aliens, humans, and anything or anyone who threatened the timeline of that dimension.

Danny eventually got older. It took him a while, now that he wasn’t bound to his own timeline. He was around sixteen now, but he had seen and done so much that he didn’t even flinch at the scariest of threats.

“It’s time.” Clockwork told him.

“For what?” He tilted his head, looking at Clockwork.

“Your next task. This one will be solo.” Clockwork opened a portal and gestured for him to step into it.

“Will you come and get me when it’s done?” He asked, hesitating. Why did this feel like goodbye?

“I will. But I’m afraid it will be a while.” Clockwork smiled sadly at him.

He hugged Clockwork, partially surprised when the god of time hugged him back. “You’re sending me there to live, aren’t you?”

“I am.” Clockwork let him go, for once not being cryptic. “You’re ready.”

“Thank you for everything, Clockwork.” He smiled, then walked through the portal.

As he stepped into the cold autumn night, a glowing green sticky note appeared into the palm of his hand.

Do not let them see your ghost form.

He burned the note and shifted back to his human form. It had been a while since he had been in it, and he noticed that it was as tall as his ghost form was. He was still growing, of course. He was 5”11, and seemed like he was going to inherit his dad’s 6”7 stature, if he was lucky.

The first thing he noticed about the city was that it reeked. He wanted to pinch his nose, but he held back. He wasn’t going to let some stinky city make him gag. He’d literally gone to the stinkiest planet in the universe once! Now that he thought about it, was that training for living in… wherever he was? He looked around and saw a sign. Gotham. This should be fun.

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anonymousauthorsblog · 4 months ago

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TURNING PASSIONS

A y/n x megumi fushiguro story

strangers to friends to lovers

lowercase intended

A story about a streamer running into a strange dancer in the fields of college •.•.•

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

A upcoming famous gaming streamer who was introduced to the world of fantasy and desire by his childhood best friend Yuji Itadori. Megumi is a second year computer science major with a minor of interactive media at NYSSU, where you could complete your dreams just with a degree. He spends his days in his dorm quietly trying to get pass through the struggles of college while managing an account ran by his friend group and dorm buddies. Also known as his best friends Yuji and Nobara. Megumi is a standoff, cold man who seems blunt and distant to the normal eye, But many can’t see past that and they don’t see the stress of his growing channel reaching to the top of fame and the realms of popularity. But what happens when a stubborn, perfectionist dancer enters his life and turns his head about the normal ideals he’s has and interrupts his peace..?

“You’ve been locked in here forever that you just can’t say goodbye..”

Y/N L/N

Y/n a second year at NYSSU, a girl who majors in performance arts and minors in psychology. She’s trained her whole life in the art of ballet and finally made it in one of the top schools who can bring her to the top of the game. Y/n is a determined strong dancer with one problem. Her being a perfectionist. This leads her to overwork herself with the idea of making herself better and getting the lead roles in each performance she is. With this in mind she strives towards her goal of leaping onto the big and final stage after college and becoming the greatest professional dancer the world has heard of. But what happens when a strange streamer comes in her life and tries to change her views on dance and debunking the term of “being the greatest”?

“Made it all look painless, man am I the greatest?”

I DO NOT OWN ANY CHARACTERS FROM JJK!!

Update: Ongoing

Warnings: Angst, slow burn, fluff, talks about mental health, cursing and jokes and MAYBE OOC!

Authors notes: HEYY GUYS!! This is my first fanfic and post here! Thank you for reading I appreciate it so so much!! Please leave any positive feedback on how I can grow as an author here so I can continue putting my art! Thank you for the support! <33

— TWITTER ROOMS —

the drama club - ft • y/n, toge, maki

met gala hosts - ft • megumi, yuji, nobara

CHAPTERS

chapter 1 • Introductions

chapter 2 • statistics and friends

chapter 3 • smile for the camera!!

chapter 3.5 • smile for the camera!! continued..

chapter 4 • passions and desires

chapter 5 • pixels and pirouettes

chapter 6 • friends? friends.

chapter 7 • understood.

chapter 8 • preform

chapter 9 • master of mathematics

chapter 10 • the bake off!

chapter 11 • call it what you want

chapter 12 • the audition

chapter 13 • comforting peace

chapter 14 • the cafe

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sarawritestories · 8 months ago

Text

Unwavering Presence Chapter 10

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary:

Content Warning: MINORS DNI 18+ Whipping, degradation (not by Cassian), BJ, Not proofread

A/N PLEASE READ: Okay, this episode does get heavy, though we will be ending on a happier note. But after Chapter 11 and probably 12, the story is going to take a dark turn as we get closer to the impending war in Hybern. I just want you guys to be aware.

Also if the ending feels a little rushed I'm sorry. I wanted you guys to get this as quickly as possible which meant that i needed to cut some stuff to use for the next chapter.

Word Count: 7.9K (Oops)

Unwavering Masterlist Chapter 9

I slowly rose to my feet, “What are you doing here?”

Xavier was the one to answer his lips pursed as if I repulsed him, “Word travels fast in small villages, Doll.” He took a step forward and I could hear Cassian’s instructions in my head; Never turn your back on an opponent. You leave yourself vulnerable. I angled my body, facing both men and having my back toward the wall. His instructions from our training continued, check for exits. Your human body is frailer than mine so if you have the chance to run take it. The window by the bed and the door are blocked with no easy exit. “We heard the Archeron twins had returned. We had to see for ourselves if it was true. We stopped by the manor, and before we could emerge from the forest, you bolted out like a doe on a hunt. We followed.”

Graysen took a step forward I refused to take one back, I lifted my chin, he grips it and yanks it down. “There was a time she was as obedient as a doll.” He pinched where he had his hold on me, and I snarled and swatted his hand and he chuckled. “Now she has a bite.”

“She always had it.” I glanced over to Xavier, “Why did you think I wanted her so badly?” A smirk I once thought was mischievous and handsome, was something darker and threatening. I blinked and suddenly his hand gripped the back of my neck, “I wanted to break her.” He squeezed.

I gripped his arm and twisted his arm until he was pushed on the wall. A steel blade hidden in a sheath on my thigh, a gift from Cassian before we left for the human realms this morning. I pressed the blade to his throat, “What do you both want?” I grit out.

The cold bite of steel was against my own throat, “We want you back in the human lands where you belong. I know my soon to be bride would like at least one of her sisters back home” I dropped the knife. “Glad you see things-“

I turned quickly and punched Graysen in the nose. Lifted my skirt and ran out the door only for multiple hands to grab me. As I thrashed Graysen and Xavier exiting the cottage, blood trickled down the former’s nose. A hand gripped my hair and yanked forcing my head up, and I cry out in pain. “Cry out all you want, no one can hear you.” Xavier comes close and my chest heaves, as his leather clad finger grazed my cheek, taking advantage of my mouth being parted slid his digit in my mouth pressing down on my tongue as I pressed. “You know what to do.” His eyes were distant and violent.

I leveled him with a glare and bit his finger and felt hands gripping me tightened around my arms as Xavier yelled. In a rapid movement, he smacked my face. “Maybe the fae men, that have been keeping you have been too soft.” He gripped my neck and squeezed. “I think its time to remind you what you are and where you belong.” He squeezed tighter and I gasped, air refusing to reach my lungs before releasing me. “Strip her.” He turned and walked back toward his friend as the sound of fabric tearing was met with the cold bite of air on my bare skin. My body began to tremble as I lowered my shields and screamed out for help hoping Rhys would hear me. Hoped Cassian would find me.

Children’s laughter wafted through my ears as I walked through a village next to mine. I had just gotten done looking for a job. Feyre came home for the second time with no game, and I couldn’t just sit by and watch our family starve. I woke up early and headed into town. Unfortunately, no one had work or conveniently were capped out on people. I sat at the edge of the fountain and pressed my palm into my eyes.

“Now why is a pretty girl like you crying.” I looked up and found a handsome man in uniform his blonde hair down and his eyes were as blue as an ice sculpture.

“It’s nothing and its not kind to lie, Sir,” I sniffled, and rose, “I also should get going. My family needs me.”

A hand gripped my wrist halting me, I turned to him and was acutely aware of him rubbing his thumb against my pulse. “I am not lying. You are beautiful.” His hand moved up from my wrist to grip my fingers. He presses his lips over my knuckles and excitement pools in my belly. “Forgive me, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Xavier. What’s yours beautiful?”

Heat crept into my cheeks as I averted his gaze, “Y/N.”

He hummed, “Well, Y/N, I’ve never seen you around before. What brings you down to our humble village.”

I bit my lip, “I’m trying to find work.” No need to mention how poor we were, that was evident in my appearance.

“Well, it just so happens,” Another voice I turned and a brown-haired man in fine attire stepped forward. “I’m in need of a new maid.”

I bowed my head and curtsied, “It would be an honor to serve my lord.”

Xavier chuckled behind me, “Believe me, baby the honor will be ours.

Cassian’s POV

Calling out for Y/N, the front door slammed, and the house fell into an uncomfortable silence. Nesta had already left for her room and Feyre reached out and grabbed my hand as Elain sat up placing her hand on the edge of the table smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles. “Feyre, did she ever mention Graysen to you at all?” My eyebrow lifts in question.

Feyre’s brow also goes up surprised by the question, “No, why do you ask?”

Elain frowns, “He said he knows her well, they used to be friendly. He said his best friend and her were smitten. Then she just disappeared and never spoke to them again. I almost didn’t want to believe him, but he looked so devastated by the fact that she was gone and had been taken,” She paused wrinkling her nose not liking the word and it was similar thing her baby sister had done, but she corrected, “staying in the fae lands. He insisted that we would get her back and she would be where she belonged.”

“Does she belong here?” All heads turned to me as I voiced the question. I rose from my chair and watched as the middle Archeron’s sister eyes widened. “From just the brief stories both of your sisters had shared with me. She has felt more at home in my court than she has ever has under your care.” She flinched at the words, and I couldn’t bring myself to care. “She is no one’s property, and no one is allowed to make decisions on where she belongs, Y/N is the only one who makes that decision.”

Elain raised her chin at me, “You’re right, General. Now go get her.” She pointed to the door, a fierceness in her doe eyes, there appeared to be more than what people assume of this Archeron Sister. and walked toward the stairs most likely to find Nesta.

There was a long pause, “I’m going to go get her.”

Azriel rose from his seat, “Cass, we have to be smart about this.”

I glared at him, “She could be in danger.”

Azriel returned the glare with one of his own, “She could be perfectly fine. If we barge into places trying to find her, we could run the risk of breaking the treaty. Then we lose all leverage of working with the human queens.”

I gritted my teeth, “I could care less about the damn treaty.”

Rhys rose with his palms up, as if he was approaching a wild animal, “Listen I know you want to go after her, but Az is right we need to be-“ Feyre’s painful scream caused him to pause. I rounded the corner to her as Rhys placed a gentle hand behind her neck as Feyre covered her ears. “Feyre Darling, what is it?”

“Rhys, make it stop. I can hear her voice in my head. Make it stop.” Feyre whimpered and I laced my hand into hers and she gripped my hand tightly, Az moved closer as well his shadows swirling and moved around Feyre trying to provide comfort.

Rhys and I exchange a look, “Who do you hear Feyre?” He wiped the tears from her face with his thumb and then moved her hands from her ears.

The Archeron twin squeezed my hand, “She is calling for you Rhys,” her eyes met mine, “She’s screaming for you, Cassian.”

I took a deep breath, “Say her name, Feyre.”

Rhys’ hissed as he reached for his wrist, the one that mirrors Y/N’s. “Y/N.” Feyre whispered.

Azriel was the one to speak, “Rhys?”

Rhys’ eyes flared with anger, “Let’s go get out girl back.”

Feyre stood and Rhys released his grip on her, “I’m coming with.”

Rhys smirked, “That was a given. She is your twin. I would never separate you.”

Feyre turned to me anger in her blue grey eyes, “General, Go get my sister back.”

I kissed her cheek and give her a smirk, “It would be my pleasure.”

Reader POV

They shackled my hands the chain that was being pulled by Xavier and dragged me into the forest. “Please don’t do this.” I whispered; my breathing labored from his unrelenting pace. “Please I’m begging.”

Xavier stopped between two trees that were evenly that had low hanging branches ropes tied to them already. I tried stepping back but a hand collided with my ass causing me to step forward Graysen chuckled. Bastard. Xavier yanked the chain of my wrists and gripped my waist pressing me flush against his chest. “Stop squirming, Doll.” Xavier whispered in my ear. “It’s not going to help you.” He kissed my cheek, and I dodged my head. His free hand gripped my face. “You are being so naughty.” I tracked two guards walking up to us. I could feel his smirk against my skin, and I wanted to vomit. “We’re going to fix that. Get you back to how I like you.”

The guards unlock my shackles and are quick to grab my wrists. “Get off me!” The two men tightened their grip, I dragged my feet, The two men didn’t miss a step and got me to the middle of the trees where two other guards handed them the ropes. I kept hearing Cassian’s voice Fight, Princess, Fight! Though when both guards tightened the knots on my wrist tightly to the point of me yelping in pain, fighting seemed pointless. My arms were spread, and the ropes were looped around my ankles spread my legs apart.

Xavier walked around with a smirk on his face, a familiar leather bite in his hands. “If you apologize, we could lesson your punishment.”

I spat at him, “Go fuck yourself.”

He sighed, “Suit yourself. 10 lashes for abruptly leaving me, 10 lashes for going to the Fae realm, 20 for punching Graysen in the face, and 10 for your foul mouth.” He was about to shove the bit in my mouth then paused, “You will count each strike. Stop counting, or stumble over we start from the beginning.” He gripped my corset, took a dagger, and sliced the fabric and it drifted to the ground exposing my back. “Do you understand?”

I lifted my chin and kept my mouth shut in defiance and quirked a brow at him. He tsked and looked passed me giving him with a nod. The sound of the whip cracking and pain laced my back, and I clenched my jaw. “Answer him, Y/N.” Graysen sounded behind me.

I kept my lips closed. Whack. I closed my eyes as the pain burned into my skin tears slid down my cheeks. Whack. I gripped the ropes binding me and I refused to cry in front of them. “Get the Barbed whip Graysen.”

My eyes shot open; I shook my head, tugging my bonds the rope beginning to chafe my skin,“No, please. I understand, sir. I understand. Please.” Xavier held his hand up. I whimpered, “Please, Sir.”

“Alright, Alright,” He cups my cheek and presses his lips to mine and my brain screamed, Wrong, wrong, wrong. “My good little slut.” I nodded as tears fell down my face. “Say it. Say you are my good little slut.”

I hang my head down low, my shoulders drooping. “I’m your good little slut.”

“Count.” Xavier ordered with that cold tone.

Whack! The bite of the barbed whip dug into my skin; I screamed as Graysen pulled the whip back. I gritted my teeth. “One”

Whack! Another blood curdling scream escaped my lips, my skin felt like it was on fire as he pulled the whip back. Tears trailed down my face as the warmth of blood trickled down my back. “Two.” I whispered. Xavier chuckled as he wiped my tears.

Whack! My whole body jolted, and my arms began to quiver as the whip landed on of the open wounds. “Please.” I couldn’t control the waiver in my voice, “Stop, please.” I whimpered as Xavier gripped my face.

He gives my cheek a few pats. “That wasn’t a number, Doll.” My eyes widened. “Take it from the top.”

I shook my head, “No, no it was three,” Panic settles in as Xavier stepped back, “No please!” Whack! I cried out my body completely shaking as my back felt like it was being shredded. I hung my head down as sobs racked out my body. My lips were chapped from dehydration, “One,” I croaked.

Xaviers fingers grazed my neck and as the next blow hit, he squeezed my throat so I couldn’t scream and more importantly I couldn’t count.

Blood was pooling at my feet clinging to my heels. “Looks like someone is not playing fair.” Stars specked my visions as I looked up and sobbed. Cassian was leaning against a tree with a lethal grace. His eyes flicked to mine for a moment, his gaze trailing down to see the blood pooling, his eyes darkened and his jaw clenched as he pushed off the tree. “I suggest you release my princess.”

Xavier puffed out his chest and laughed squeezing my neck, eliciting a whimper to slip past my lips. Cassian snarled, “Princess?” My ex looked at me as my vision was blackening around the edging my vision and he let me go as I gasped for air. “A pleasure whore at best.” He looked at Cassian’s wings, “Or maybe the Fae’s who-“

Swiftly Cassian’s blade met his neck, “Care to finish that sentence?” Cassian’s grin was terrifying gone was the gentle male and in his place: The General of the Night Court’s Armies. Through clenched teeth he said, “Cut. Her. Down. Now.”

Xavier smirked, “Or what?”

The sound of an arrow taking flight and taking purchase in a body followed by a low grunt and thud. I sob mixed with a laugh escaped me. Feyre was here. Against Cassian’s hues of Cobalt blue brightens his face. Azriel. I could barely keep my head up when Cassian answered. “You’ll find yourself at the mercy of her twin.”

Xavier walked behind me, the sound of arrows whirling and screaming flooding my ears. Keeping my eyes open was becoming difficult as one hand was cut free, my leg was next, he moved to the other leg. Before he cut the rope on my wrist, he leaned close in my ear. “I’ll see you again doll,” He licked my ear he speared two fingers in one of the wounds on my back. Stars banked my vision as I unleashed a strained scream that was closer to a howl, and I collapsed before my body could crumple to the floor, warm calloused hands caught me, and darkness pulled me under.

Cassian’s POV

This fucker wanted to die. Feyre and Az took out the rest of the guards, the other finely dressed human had fled, Y/N’s tormentor following suit with him. I was about to pass Y/N to Rhys to go after him, but he stopped. “We have more pressing issues then them.” Rhys said looking down at his mate’s twin. I looked down at my sweet girl who was unconscious in my arms acutely aware that her blood was soaking through my hands, her breathing was shallow.

Feyre and Azriel ran over to us, Feyre falling to her knees as looked at her sister. She stroked her paled cheek, “We need to get her to healer.” Az said. “I can get her back to Madja.” I looked at my brother, his eyes had grown distant, no doubt thinking about the scars on his hands and how her screams sounded familiar to him.

“No.” I whispered, Az met my gaze, “Winnow me to edge, then come back here.”

“Do it now!” Rhys grated out, “She doesn’t have a lot of time.” He reached down and grabbed Feyre, “Cassian will take good care of her, Darling.”

Feyre looked at me, “Promise?”

I nodded, “She will be well cared for.” Feyre leaned into Rhys as silver lined her eyes. I looked to Az who grabbed my arm as I held Y/N close in my arms.

Shadows enveloped up and once we came back two, we were on the boarder of the Night Court. Azriel looked at Y/N, He gently swiped her cheek. “In the House of Wind, there is a salve in my drawer for scars it helps numb the pain and helps when the scars are healed. Put it on her when she comes to. She’ll need it.”

I nodded and stretched my wings, “Thanks, brother.” Azriel nodded and he was enveloped in his shadows as I took to the skies. My siphons flared as I created a shield around us to keep the wind from pressing her naked form. I pushed harder than I have in getting to Velaris. Once in town I pounded on Madja’s door.

She opened grumbling about being woken up and met my ears before she opened the door. “You better have a good reason for-“ Madja opened the door and saw that the blood pooling at her front step. “Come on, hurry.” I stepped inside and she instructed me to the home office, “Place her face down.” I laid her on the cot and gently flipped her on her stomach and my heart broke, her back was marred up with deep gashes but past the blood pale raised skin raised on her back as if this wasn’t the first time she had endured the end of a whip.

She groaned and my heart wretched, her eyes opened slightly, and she groaned. “Ca-“she coughed. I knelt in front of her and pushed some of her hair that was clinging to her forehead.

“Shhh, don’t try to speak,” I ran my fingers through her hair, “We’re getting you all fixed up.” Y/N nodded, and she moved her arm wincing in pain as she did as Madja began working. She held out her hand palm up, a silent question; stay with me? I lace my hand with hers, “I’m not going anywhere.” She was fighting to keep her eyes open I pressed my forehead to hers, “Close your eyes, Princess. I’ll be here when you wake.” At that she closed her eyes still clutching my hand.

Madja held her hands over her back, “I can’t guarantee I can heal this without their being scars.” She tsked, “Who would do something like this?” I pulled her hand closer to me and placed a featherlight kiss. “I don’t know, Madja. She didn’t deserve this.”

Xavier’s POV

I stormed into Graysen’s office and threw the first thing in my sight which was a decanter of whiskey. “Will you calm down?” Graysen voice rang out as he shut the door behind him.

“We had her! Those Fae Bastards.” I punched his wall, my fist breaking through the drywall. “I hate them.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m going to meet with the human queens let them know they broke the treaty.” Graysen with an unsettling calm.

“Fuck the treaty. I want my toy back.”

Graysen leveled me with a cold stare, “Find a new toy. I mean there is one last Archeron sister you can have.”

“I. don’t. want. Her. I want Y/N.” My mind trailed back where she was on her knees looking up at me with the upmost obedience as I defiled her face, never breaking eye contact. “She is mine and those fae monsters will not take her from me,” I straightened my back and dusted myself off. A plan forming in my head. “Don’t contact the queens they don’t give a damn about that treaty. Also, it interferes with my plan.”

Graysen’s back went ramrod, “What are you plotting, Xavier?”

I smirked, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you later, Gray.” I walked out of his office with a smile on my face and a plan to get my girl.

Reader POV

My eyes creaked open and I was in my room in Rhys’ townhome. I sat up and winced as my back throbbed. The shuffling beside me caused me to jolt as I turned my head to find Cassian in a chair asleep. The blanket he was using had draped down to his waist exposing his bare chest tattoos climbing up his arms meeting at the center of his clavicle. I took a moment to admire him, his head was leaning against the chair, his hair was down, and a few strands were in his face. So, at peace and beautiful when he slept. I leaned over to move his hair out of his face when his eye opened and I snapped my hand back. “I could feel you watching me sleep, Princess.” I averted my gaze heat climbing my gaze.

Memories flooded to the surface, I bit my lip, and I lowered my head in shame. I felt a dip in the bed his warm fingers gently guiding my face to look at him, “How are you feeling?”

“It hurts. Physically. Emotionally.” I swallowed down the tears, “I tried to fight.” I whispered, not realizing I was leaning into his touch. “Tried putting all that training to use. Doesn’t work when there is a swarm of men waiting for you.” I looked down at my oversized shirt that met my knees, I furrowed my brow confused, “Um.”

Cassian held his one hand up, “Madja changed you after doing what she could for your back. I didn’t want to go through your things so.” He gestured to his shirtless body.

Something tightened in my chest, and I could feel the heat searing in my cheeks. “You gave me your shirt?” He nodded. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Princess.” Cassian smiled though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Madja, was able to heal most of your back some of the wounds but there were a few that were deep that she could only partially heal. She was able to stop their bleeding and stitched you up but those are going to have to heal on your own. You’ll be tender for a few days.” He tucked his hair behind his ear, and it was his turn to look away clearing his throat, “I should have gotten their sooner.”

I grabbed his hand, and he met my stare again, maintaining eye contact I lifted his hand and kissed his palm. “What happened to me wasn’t your fault, Cassian. I may not look it right now, but I’m just happy you found me when you did.” I heard him intake a breath sharply, as I began to press my thumbs into his palms, needing to do something. Massaging his hand, I watched his eyes flutter close, and a hum of approval moved passed his lips. His eyes opened again; his pupils blown out; he leveled me with a stare. “What?” I blinked and paused my hands.

“Why are you massaging my hand?” his voice cracked slightly.

I gave him a small smile and shrugged, “You’re a fighter, your hands hold a lot of tension, this will help.”

I was about to continue when his other hand covered mine, “Princess, that’s not what I’m asking.”

I sighed and moved his hand, so I could continue massaging the one in my lap. “I need to do something as a thank you. Also, if it’s something that pleases you, I want to do it.”

Cassian gently pulled his hand away from mine, so I was forced to look at him, “You don’t need to thank me or please me. Who the fuck made you think that you need to please those that help you when you need.”

I wrapped my arms around myself, and a tear slipped down my cheek. “Xavier.” Cassian’s face softened. “He said whores should be grateful and thank them for pulling them out of bad situations.” I looked down, “He always liked me on my knees for him when he did something for me. I like pleasing and caring for others, and I am aware that he took advantage of that.”

Cassian growled and I flinched, he must have realized because he got up, “Scoot forward a bit for me,” I did as he asked and he slid behind me, “Lean back if you’d like,” I scooted back and leaned back and was met with his warm chest against my aching back. He leaned his head on his shoulder and his arm gripped my middle, “You will never have to thank me for anything. You owe me nothing. I helped you because the idea of you being in danger makes me ill. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you, and I couldn’t be there to stop it. That’s how much I care for you. My care for you will never need to be paid by you. Ever!” His nose grazed my neck, and I angled my head, so he had better access, and he pressed a chaste kiss at my pulse point. “Do you understand, Princess?”

Tears were in a free fall, and I was so tired of crying, “I understand, Cassian.” I paused and leaned my head against his, “I care for you too, Cass.” I yank of his hand from my waist, “Your hands are full of tension will you please let me do this. Because I want to.”

He chuckled and the sound was music to my ears. “Sure, Princess.” I proceeded to massage his hand working out the knots on each finger, Cassian groaned, and I paused. “Don’t stop. It feels good.” I smiled and continued as he went on, “I should be giving you a massage.”

Rubbing down his wrist, I shrugged, “I’ll hold you to that at a later date. Right now, I want to take care of you.” Before he could open his mouth, I cut him off, “I am acutely aware that I need to take care of myself. You can take care of me when I’m done, okay?” I sighed, “Just let me do this, please.”

“One hour, then its back to me taking care of you.” I nodded but he nudged his head against mine, and moaned in my ear as I reached a tender spot. Heat pooled in my stomach, “When did you get so good at this?”

Placing his arm back around my waist his fingers squeezed my stomach and another wave of heat of arousal hit my core. He inhaled and then quickly lightened his grip, as I picked up his other hand, “I would massage my father’s leg after it was shattered. He would wince in pain constantly, especially with the seasons changing. I hated seeing him in pain, so I started massaging his leg. Hoping that if I eased the pain, it would be enough for him to get back to working.” I shook my head, “It’s in the past.” Cassian only hummed in answer. “When does Feyre, Rhys, and Az come home?”

“Later tonight, Rhys wants to make sure another ambush doesn’t happen at your sister’s manor.” I nodded kneading his calloused flesh. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head, “No.” I closed my eyes for a moment the crack of the whip ringing in my ears followed by screams and tears, “I haven’t fully processed that last night was real and not a nightmare.” I patted his hand, “You’re done.”

Cassian remained quiet and wrapped his other arm around my torso. I leaned into him, my head laying on his chest. He leaned his head against mine, “You hungry?”

My stomach grumbled in response, “Does that answer your question, General?”

Cassian flicked my nose, “Come on, let’s go get some food.” Cassian slid off the bed and held out his hand for me to take. Accepting his offering he gently helped me up and chuckled as his shirt hung right above my knees. “You look so cute.”

I blushed, “You’re a giant you know that?” He led me down to the kitchen not bothering to put on a shirt. He released my hand and gripped my hips hoisting me up onto the kitchen counter next to the stove. I giggled, “What you don’t want my help?”

Cassian rolled his eyes, “No I want you to sit right there and let me take care of you.” He kissed my forehead. “Okay.”

I realized that I don’t have to look up and meet his eyes and then look around the kitchen, “Huh.”

“What?” He scrunched his nose looking around trying to see what I was staring at.

“This is what it feels like to be gigantic.” I looked at Cassian with my most innocent smile. “Fascinating.”

He clenched his hands into fist and placed both arms on either side of me, his face getting closer to mine, his face intense as he leans into my ear and blows lightly against the shell of it causing me to shiver. “I personally prefer the view under me.” A light nip, and I bit my lip to suppress a moan, “My wings aren’t the only thing that are gigantic about me, Princess.”

I was beginning to get lightheaded as his nose grazed my neck. “Cassian.” I moaned and quickly covered my mouth in embarrassment.

He pulled my hand from my mouth and kissed my knuckles “A natural reaction, Sweetheart. Though I do love my name on your lips.” Cassian’s voice sounded strained then he winked at me and made butterflies flutter in my stomach. He rolled his shoulders and pulled away from me, he grabbed ingredients from various places. He laid out his ingredients and pulling a knife from the drawer he began to cut vegetables strategically angling his body to shield what he was doing.

I leaned closer and twisted my body to see what he was doing and there was a burning sensation pulsing on my back and I winced. Cassian’s head turned to me immediately halting chopping to see what was wrong. He took in my posture, “Sit up straight, you won’t put as much strain on your back.” I did as he instructed as he continued his prepping.

“Who taught you how to cook?” I asked kicking my dangling feet lightly. Watching his muscles flex as he used the steel to chop down the vegetables in bite size pieces. His back flexed with the motions, even the most mundane of tasks were fascinating so long as he was

“Rhys’ mother taught all three of us, how to cook. She told us that it was an important skill to have,” He paused and grinned at me, “I miss her.”

I smile, “She sounds lovely.” I said tucking my hands under my bare thighs.

“She was.” He sighed and proceeded, “She would have loved you. His sister too. They would have said that you and Feyre were a breath of fresh air that we needed here.”

“You remind me of someone I knew long ago, she would have loved you.”

I furrowed my brows, “Cassian, Rhys said once I reminded him of someone he knew long ago.” His muscles tensed, “Was he talking about his sister?”

“Cassian smiled, “You have her fighting spirit. You are about as good as listening as she was too.” I laughed, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he saw a lot of her in you. I see her in you.”

“Did you love her?” I throat bobbed at the question.

Cassian walked over to me slotting himself in between my legs causing them to spread myself to him, and my breath hitched, my chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace. “As one would love a sibling. I never knew what the feeling of love was like, before.” He lifted his hand, his thumb grazing my slightly parted bottom lip.

“And now?” I sighed, as his hand lowered and wrapped around the back of my neck.

He tilted his head, his chest heaving making his tattoos move like entrancing black flames. “Now,” he pulls me closer to his leather and sandalwood scent overwhelming. He angled my head and my eyes fluttered shut. His voice a low whispered, “Now I-“

“Oh, I didn’t know you two came home early.” Mor’s voice filled the kitchen and he pulled away from me. My eyes slowly opened, and disappointment washed over me. Mor greeted us with a jolly grin on her face as Cassian pecked the top of her head and turned to resume chopping. I hopped down from the counter as Mor pulled me into her arms, her grip tight and her nails dug into my back, I whimpered.

“Morrigan!” Cassian roared, causing her to jump away from me as I fought the tears burning. Cassian wings flared in front of me, “For fuck’s sake she’s hurt.” I peaked past Cassian’s wing and saw Mor’s face fall slightly.

Her mouth opened, “I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”

I waved her off and moved to stand next to Cassian, “It’s fine.” I croak out.

“It’s not,” Cassian growled as he turned me and lifted my shirt to check my wounds. “Shit, you’re bleeding again. Damnit Mor.” Cassian leveled her with a lethal glare, causing her to take a step back. “Be more careful.”

I placed my hand over his heart, “She didn’t know, Cass. I’m not really hungry anymore.” He sighed and hoisted me up like I weighed nothing. Then without giving her a glance he took me back to my room and into the bathroom. I looked in the mirror and my eyes widened. Bruises kissed my neck from where Xavier’s fingers clamped down. Cassian muttered, “She knew what she was doing.”

He applied salve to my wounds and drew me a bath. Once I was done my night gown was next to my towel along with some clean undergarments. Walking back to my room Cassian was sitting on my bed with two trays of food so we could have a meal together. Then exhaustion waned on me, and I fell into a deep slumber in Cassian’s arms.

Feyre’s POV

Rhys looped my arm around when we finally made it back to the town house, “Do you think Y/N’s okay.” I asked Rhys as we reached her bedroom door.

Rhys shrugged, “Only one way to find out, Feyre Darling.” He opened my sister’s door and he smiled, “Take a look.”

I looked at him with a furrowed brow and my gaze moved into the room to find Y/N wrapped in the General’s arms his wing tucked over her like an extra blanket, his head pressed on top of hers. Her hand splayed out on his bare chest.

If I were painting this moment, I would call it “The General and His Princess.”

Rhys snorted, A perfect title for them.

Get out of my head, you prick.

Make me, Darling. I pushed him out of my mind and put my shields up.

Cassian POV

Four days later

“We have gotten word back from the Summer Court.” Rhys announced while we were all at the breakfast court. I grumbled and continued eating. Y/N wearing a black lightweight sweater and a red bow, pulling her softly curled hair back, giggled and nudged me. I couldn’t help but smile, the bruise was fading around her neck though she hadn’t talked about what happened. She’s been trying to keep a smile on her face, and her smile is contagious. I winked at her, and she blushed. “Y/N, did you want to join Feyre, Amren and I to the Summer Court.” Rhys asked.

“Why isn’t Cassian and Azriel coming with?”

Az was the one to respond to Y/N, “I have business in another court and Cassian has been banned from the summer court.” Her head whipped at me.

I rolled my eyes, “You level one building, and you are suddenly the most dangerous person to the court.” She tilted her head at me, “I’m going to be in Windhaven while, they are in the Summer Court.”

Her eyes lit up, “Could I join you?”

I looked at Rhys, “That’s your territory brother, if you would like to show Y/N, our home in the mountains makes no difference to me.”

I looked back at her, “How do you feel about snow?” She beamed and my heart leapt at the light in her eyes.

Reader’s POV

Feyre and Rhys had already left by the time I was packing up my bag when there was a knock at my door. “Come in.”

Mor stepped in. Leaning against the door, “How are you feeling?”

I smiled at her, “I’m doing alright. Thanks for checking on me.” I paused. “You know I’m not mad, it was an accident.”

Mor sauntered into my room, “Of course.” She smiled but the smile didn’t shake the uneasiness unraveling in my gut. She kissed my forehead, “I am still very sorry.” Her eyes grew distant as she looked at my faded bruise. “You know, I must be honest about something. I’m happy to see Cassian is moving on.”

I tilted my head, “Moving on from what?”

She shrugged, “Cassian did me a favor once, to help me get out of a bad marriage, he took my virginity. It wasn’t easy for either of us to move on.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, “Hold on, why are you telling me this? Also why do I feel like you hate me?”

Mor blinked her eyes widening, “I don’t hate you! I’m just saying its nice that Cassian found a new plaything.” I cringed at her verbiage.

Xavier groped my breast as I was trying to clean, “Xavier,” I warned.

He smacked my ass, “Remember you’re nothing but a toy. My own plaything.” He pinched my perked nipples tightly; I screamed out. “Actually, sounds like you could use a reminder. Strip.” He ordered.

“Yes Sir.” I stripped down and folded my clothes, he grabbed my panties as knelt in front of him He unbuckled and began to stroke himself. “Open.”

I opened my mouth, and he rammed his dick into my mouth. I moaned when it reached the back of my throat. “Hmm good little toy.” He gripped my hair and rutted into my mouth. His pace became erratic and before I knew it, he pulled out of my mouth as cum shot out and landing on my face and my chest. Once he was empty, he lifted my chin, wiped the surrounding mess with his finger and slid it in my mouth. I sucked and when it was clean he removed his finger and kissed me passionately. “I love you, Doll.”

I smiled, “I love you too.”

He kissed the top of my head, “No cleaning your self up until your chores are done. And with that he left, and I began work as usual not bothering putting my uniform back on

Mor waved a hand in my face, “Are you alright?”

I smiled, “Fine. Are you taking us to Windhaven?”

She nodded, “I really am glad Cassian found you, Y/N. Even if its for your short lifespan.” With that she left as the reality of her words sunk into my chest causing it to ache.

Cassian’s POV

Mor skipped her way into the room with a grin on her face, Y/N not far behind with a dimmed contorted look on her face even in her snow gear for the mountains she still looked beautiful. Mor had kept her distance from me after the incident with Y/N’s injuries and began clinging on to Azriel more. I could see him feeling uncomfortable with the touching, but his eyes longed for her. I walked up and grabbed the suitcase Y/N was carrying, “Allow me, Princess,” she nodded and gave me a smile that didn’t make her eyes sparkle like they usually did when she was happy. “Let’s get out of here, shall we?”

She nodded and Mor held out her hands. We both grabbed her hands and then we were greeted with the cold bite of the mountains. “Rhys will come get you guys when they return from the Summer court.” She waved and the next moment she was gone.

I nudged Y/N who had watched Mor leave and she looked at me, her nose beginning to turn pink. “Follow me, Princess.”

I guided her to the Cabin and let her step in. Dropping the bags and shutting the door. I watched as she stared at the modest cabin in wonder. “What’s going on with you?” I ask breaking her out of her reverie.”

She crossed her arms, something she does when she is ready to get on the defensive. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

“You’ve been avoiding my gaze. Your smile has dimmed since breakfast.” I stepped closer to her, “Talk to me.”

Y/N sighed, “You and Mor slept together.” Son. Of. A Bitch.

I nodded, “We did. It was a one-time thing that I have no interest repeating.” She nodded her head, her expression lightened slightly. She moved from her arms to wringing her hands, “Did she say something?”

“Just that it was nice that you were finally over her and” she looked at the floor, “Had a new plaything.” She cringed as she said the word. Her eyes went distant as if a memory was trying to consume her and she was fighting it. Come back to me, Sweetheart I thought to myself and her eyes met mine.

Blood boiled in me as I knelt in front of Y/N and cupped this beautiful woman’s face in my hands. “I have no interest in Mor. I never have. I don’t have a ‘Plaything.’ I swear she is becoming more like her father with the terms she uses. You aren’t a toy, Princess, not a plaything you are a beautiful, kind woman anyone who makes you feel less, can come see me,” Her eyes lightened and she smiled, “I don’t know what made Mor believe she was the most knowledgeable in my love life and I’m sorry she said something to you that was so crass. But if you want to know the full story, I’ll happily tell you.

“How bout while we unpack for our stay.” She offered tugging at my wrist to get up. I rose to my feet and chuckled at how she had to look up. “It’s annoying how tall you are, General.”

I chuckled and grabbed our bags, and as we unpacked, I told her the story of how Mor was engaged to Eris and she didn’t want to be tied to him and be in a loveless marriage. How she was left out on the border of the Autumn court to die and how Eris found her but did nothing to help. When it was done it we both agreed that it would stay in the past and there was no future. She simply nodded along and then said she was going to get comfortable, kissed my cheek and shut the door I pressed my hand to my cheek and went to finish up my own unpacking.

***

I made us dinner and we ate in a comfortable silence We sat on the couch lounging in front of the fireplace Y/N sat on the opposite end of the couch the tea I made her in hand as she had her knees to her chest. The socks she was wearing stopped right at her thigh and her gray oversized sweater, that drooped over her should, rose revealing. Her hair was in a simple plait over her should and with the soft glow of the fireplace she looked serene and peaceful, especially with the content smile on her face.

What I wouldn't have done to wrap my hand around that braid and tug it to expose her neck to me. To have her lips on mine, to have her in my bed with nothing but those damned socks. She turned her head, catching me staring and her smile broadened. I gave her a smile in return and looked back at the fire, willing myself to calm down I tapped my fingers on my thigh.

I can feel her staring now, her eyes racking over me, "So," she starts causing me to look back at her and I realized she put her tea down and was on her knees on the couch and I internally groaned, she's going to be the death of me. She tilts her head, "What do you have planned for us in general?"

I turned to face her, "I'll show you the camps, and the town of Windhaven if you'd like and I'll have to do some work while i'm here but then we have the day to do whatever."

Y/N bit her lip and her eyes widened as I took my thumb and pulled her lip from her teeth. Her heartbeat quickens and I notice the rise and fall of her full chest. I remove my hand and place both of them on her hips and yank her to me. She shrieked and instinctively wrapped her arms around my neck. Her scent washes over me and something tugs at my chest at her Jasmine, Vanilla, and lilac scent. I began massaging her thigh and she buried her head in my neck, "Flying" she said and if I didn't know better it came out as a moan against my pulse. I move my hands lower to her calves and she does let out a moan as I work through the knots there. "I want go on a flight with you. For fun."

I smiled, "Consider it done, Princess."

She pulled her legs and straddled me, placing her hands on my chest. My hands hovered over her hips, “Cassian,” she breathed her chest heaving, “There is something else I want.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, “What would that be?” She pressed her lips in a tight line as she pushed my hair behind my ears, my wings twitched in response to the gesture. Her eyes were blown out; her hand moved from ear to cheek, her eyes focused on my lips. She slowly leaned in and paused. I gripped her hips, “Come here, Princess.” I yanked her closer, and her lips molded into mine as I held her close, and my brain kept repeating the same word.

Mine. Mine. Mine. She’s Mine.

To be continued..

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