#unwanted marriage proposal

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your boyfriend buys you a pretty golden necklace with his initials, not knowing it will only intensify the urge to claim you as his own in every way.

tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. smut, pwp. age gap (reader early 20’s, gojo early 30’s). possessive. talks of marriage. unprotected. breēding kink; crēampies. jealousy. pregnancy kink? reader gets called ‘baby, sweetheart, mama’ not proofread; excuse the grammar. wc: 1.7k

“look at that, baby,” satoru coos as he watches the golden necklace bounce around your collarbone with each wet thrust. it’s a 24k pure gold necklace he purchased just today, with his initials on it.

something inside him stirred the moment he put it on you. satoru couln’t help himself from pinning you to the couch and claiming you as his own for the nth time. it doesn’t matter how many times he fucks you; it’s never enough.

the letters ‘sg’ are shimmering under the light of the living room. the older man is grinning from ear to ear, nearly cumming from the sight of you wearing that necklace alone. it’s a sign of possession to him. you’re his—you’re only his. he’s the only one who can touch you like this.

“shit, ‘t makes me wanna put a ring on it,” satoru hisses, one of his hands pressing down on your lower tummy. you gasp and clutch at his broad back, nails digging into his flesh quite painfully. “i think i’d engrave my initials on the inside of the ring too, what do ya think?”

each word is punctuated with a thrust. his hips are non-stop ramming into yours, claiming even the deepest spots of your body beneath him. he leans down to trail kisses down your sensitive neck, eliciting a couple whines from your lips.

“d’y wanna get married, sweetheart?” the sudden proposal takes you off guard. you can’t believe satoru would ask such a thing while being balls deep inside you. you’re blabbering nonsense, your voice muffled due to the saliva building up in your mouth.

“m— married? babe, are you ser-” your question is left unanswered as your boyfriend kisses your plump lips. he switches to a slow and gentle pace, grinding into your needy cunt until it leaves you shaking. his fingers play with the golden jewelry around your neck.

a necklace will do. as long as you’ll wear that accessory from this day forward, he’ll be satisfied. the urge to make you his forever partner could be satiated. for now, that is. he knows you still have a bright future ahead of you, like getting your degree and first ever proper job.

“let’s have you finish university first, yeah?” satoru smiles down at you after detaching his lips from yours. he watches the string of saliva hang between your mouths, giving a short hum once it snaps. his big hand slithers down to cup your breast and knead it, kissing your nipple whilst holding eye contact, “i can wait for you.”

satoru sighs as he rolls his tongue around your hardened nipple. he’s drooling over your breasts, a drunken glint in his eyes. he’s so obsessed with you to the point that he’d marry you right now if he could. that proposal wasn’t a joke—but he figured that it also wasn’t the smartest.

he’ll give you a proper and serious proposal one day. though, now you know for sure that he’s gotten into this relationship with the thought of actually marrying you.

“but i also—fuck—can’t wait,” satoru whines, feeling your walls clamp down on his thick cock. his dick is pulsing with need, exploring your squishy insides while his balls prepare to release all semen stored right into your fertile womb. even if you may take a pill to get rid of any unwanted consequences, the thought of seeing your tummy swell with his child is making the older man go insane.

satoru buries his face between your breasts and breathes heavily against your sweaty skin. his hips move with renewed vigour, his energy never depleting when it comes to pleasuring you, “wanna make you my wife ‘n breed this pretty pussy.”

you moan repeatedly, unable to stop yourself. especially after satoru frantically spews such lewd words. he’s getting lost in your cunt and the way it’s swallowing him in—into your pretty pussy that he owns. his pussy.

“wanna be your wife so bad, ‘toru,” you hiccup, nearly crying from the intense pleasure. you’d love to be satoru’s wife. he already treats you so well while you’re his girlfriend, you can’t imagine how much better it’s going to get once you’re officially his. your stomach fills with butterflies at the thought of being able to call him your husband.

the white-haired man chuckles. his blue eyes stare down at you with nothing but love, “yeah? mh, i’ll treat you so well every single day. g’nna come home to you ‘n give you some proper loving.”

satoru can already imagine it. coming home to you after a long day of work, needing a quick release. seeing you greet him at the door will send him into a frenzy. especially if you’re wearing an apron—he’s a sucker for domestic stuff.

you, his wife, taking care of him after a rough day at work. . . it’s a dream come true. he’ll spoil you with materialistic gifts and his unending love so you’ll live a happy life.

oh, don’t get him started on kids. satoru ruts into you like his life depends on it, the hypnotising rhythm of your boobs jiggling in circles is making him drool. having a little family with you is his end goal. you’ll be such a good mother and he’ll be such an amazing dad; a perfect combination.

satoru can already picture the amount of times he’ll dump his cum inside of you, without any restrictions. without you taking a pill or him wrapping a condom around his dick. his libido is going to be at an all time high when the time comes.

even if satoru ages a bit, he’s sure that he’s going to be able to have sex with you non stop. you get him hard without fail every single time. you’re his everything—the apple of his eyes.

your lover nearly chokes on his own saliva. he pushes his cock in to the base, burying it as deep as possible. your fingers curl around the pillow you’re holding for support, your eyes rolling back. his pink tip hit the right spot. that sweet spot that makes you cum without fail.

satoru bites his bottom lip. the way he’s looking at you, with a possessive kind of love and lust, is simply too much. his oceanic eyes are glimmering with need. erotic images flash through his mind of him impregnating you, “going to put a baby into you as soon as you’re ready.”

your tummy fills with butterflies. the way he’s talking to you like you’re already a married couple is making your pussy even wetter than it already is. it’s like it’s begging satoru to give it to you already—to make it store all his cum.

his eyes roll back as he leans his forehead against your shoulder. he has to hold himself back from cumming too soon. he wants to cherish every second spent inside of your warm body. satoru attaches his lips to your breasts again, “mhhh, y’re gonna look so beautiful pregnant, mama. those tits of y’rs. . .”

his voice is barely audible because he’s busy sucking on your nipples. your boyfriend is imagining the pair growing with each semester, filling out perfectly to store milk for the baby.

satoru cannot wait to be the reason why your body will change so much. you’ll be even prettier than you already are, that he can tell already. he’s going to give you gifts every day, to thank you for carrying his child. he’s going to spoil you rotten because you deserve it and so much more.

he can’t wait for the married life with you. many men dread that life, but that’s not the case with satoru. every day of his married life will be spent with his wife—you—and the honeymoon phase will never end. ever.

satoru’s cock is twitching and begging for the much needed release. he pounds you into the couch until you’re screaming in pleasure, feeling him so deep inside you. he’s so big, he’s stretching you out so well to the point of no return. the older man grins at the sight of your already fucked out face, “cunt ‘s gonna be so swollen because of how much i’ll pleasure her—paint her all white with my cum.”

satoru’s nasty words are causing unspeakable things to your body. you’re on the brink of reaching that euphoric state. the dirty talk is too much to handle at this point. your limbs are tingling and your cunt is aching to be stuffed full of his hot semen.

“s-satoru, don’t say such stuff,” you comment in a shaky breath. your head is spinning and your hands desperately reach out to hold onto his shoulders, squeezing the skin. your hips are bucking up lightly, your clit bumping against satoru’s pelvic area with each thrust, “i’m gonna cum if you keep saying that.”

your lover’s grin widens even more. he knows you enjoy it when he whispers such dirty stuff in your ear. that’s mainly the reason why he does it. he’s talked you through multiple orgasms before—it’s quite easy to do so with his husky voice and manly touch.

“that’s fine, baby,” satoru coos and leaves one last, sloppy kiss on your nipple before leaning in to attach his lips to yours. his tongue swirls around yours as you share your spit, the mixture trickling down your chins.

his hips don’t stop. he positions his lower body in an angle that gets you screaming for mercy, which he won’t do. he craves to ruin you on his cock, to see you melt with pleasure underneath him.

“make a mess on my dick while i make a mess inside of you,” satoru encourages you which seals the deal. your body shakes as you feel the waves of pleasure run through your system. you can feel hot ropes of cum nestle deep inside of your cunt. your boyfriend shudders at the sensation and helps you ride your climax out.

he pushes in and back out a few times, lazily, his finger finding your clit to rub until you’ve calmed down. “good girl. y’ took all of it, hm? lovely,” satoru nearly collapses on top of you after the energy leaves his body, careful not to crush you underneath his weight.

he doesn’t bother to pull out. he keeps his cum plugged into you—relishing the moment of ecstasy. even if he can’t fully breed you now, he’ll wait until the day he can.

“i love you, wifey,” satoru kisses your temple, tiredly giggling at the nickname he gave you. in his mind, you are already his one and only woman.

his wife and partner for life.

[shegetsburned]

❝ the duke’s proposal ❞ w. satoru gojo 𝜗𝜚.

BRIDGERTON AU⌇

• — dearest gentle readers. the time has come for us to place our bets for the upcoming social season! marriage-minded mamas must consider the oldest of the gojo’s family thrilled to conquer hearts with his wits and undeniable charm. having officially announced his wish to find a bride, we certainly hope to see the young rake, on the dance floor, turn the tides and find a wife after much seasons of avoiding his duty. may the best lady win! • — a/n. i know @grumpchua asked for this and i believe it will feed some of y’all, so here’s the food <3

.nsfw.

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who you’ve known ever since your debut and has been a inconvenience in your life for quite a while. like a tick biting into your flesh, only bringing trouble and worry for yourself. truth is, the duke loved pestering you about failed courting attempts or clumsy men coming to steal your hand, only to fall with them into a life of misery and depths. you undoubtedly did not attract the smartest and wealthiest of them all and satoru took advantage of this unwanted success.

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who’s audacious. far from being a gentleman. the cockiest of all rakes. you did not only despise the man, you thought he was without honour, unromantic and arrogant. lord satoru was, in fact, everything you thought he was, but loved to show you personally every single one of his flaws.

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who, despite your best efforts, thought no better but to follow you around at every ball and "unexpectedly" bump into you at the market or when you walked out of the modiste. lord gojo was high in the instep, purposely shoving his strength of character and title in unfortunate suitors’ faces every time they deemed to approach you. needless to say, he took pleasure in crushing your chances of ever securing a proposal.

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who has never really shown any interest in you, before. he would rather amuse himself by courting pretty debutantes only to leave them hanging and being chased by the impatient mamas of the ton. that was until his status caught up to him and forced the man to consider a serious marriage proposal. unfortunately for you, an idea blossomed into the young rake’s mind when he realized his need to find a bride was more urgent than he hoped to be.

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who, one evening, during a tranquil promenade, abruptly stops and steals you from your mama, offering his hand for you to finish your walk beside him. he obviously had a plan and it involved the lady that despised him the most in this entire ton: you— and who would be better than you to not catch feelings and be able to execute his plan perfectly?

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who proposes an alliance. knowing you only attract the worst suitors possible, he assures you that more eligible men will throw themselves at your feet when they see the famous duke gojo court you. he swears it’ll only be temporary until he can find a suitable bride of his own without hundreds of ladies begging for his attention when you’re wrapped around his arm. you’ll be found desirable and he’ll have the peace he desires. what could possibly go wrong?

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who, for the first days, tries harder than any other years you’ve known him. the first day, your carriage’s waiting downstairs to meet him in the parc. he’s holding your umbrella above your head the whole time and acting like quite the gentleman, for once. he laughs with you, readjusts your hair and takes care of every single one of your needs. this masquerade goes on for two weeks where, each day, he surprises you with gorgeous flowers, kind gestures and words you would’ve never thought to hear. until one night, it’s an invite to his mansion that’s waiting for you, which you accept thinking it’ll just be another public appearance with him by your side. oh, but you couldn’t have been more wrong.

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who welcomes you in his home, one gentle hand resting against the back of your corset to escort you to the ballroom where people were gathered and seemed to be enjoying their evening. everything would’ve seemed in order if not for the many men eyeing you from across the room. it seemed odd now, considering you hadn’t had this kind of attention for weeks, but it also seemed like satoru’s plan had worked and you couldn’t be more satisfied.

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who listens to you converse with one of the gentlemen who had introduced himself to you. he seemed kind, polite, educated and of high status, which couldn’t have been more perfect if it hadn’t been for the duke terminating the conversation with a harsh remark and by guiding you to the dance floor without even writing his name on the card around your wrist. he had lost his temper in a matter of seconds and you were more than surprised by his lack of manners.

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who tries to convince you to play along but you know this is entirely about something else. his grip around your waist and hand has never been so tight. he’s pulling you closer until his breath tickles your face and his words are whispers when he reminds you that your deal isn’t over and you’ll have to wait until you are allowed to let yourself be courted by other men. you try to respond but he spins you around gracefully. his fingers trail your column when he catches you and before you know it, you’re dancing with him and no one else is in the room.

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo whose deep gaze startles you. he hasn’t left your eyes and does not plan to until he gets a proper response from you. satoru’s piercing blue eyes linger on your lips with a cocky smirk and you don’t know why your heart is beating so fast. he had never shown this facet of his before and it made your chest flutter. would he have preferred your attention was entirely on him, this evening, and not on the handsome suitor that had caught yours? no. you hated him. he was tricking you to make it seem real.. right?

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo whose tension is enough to fill the room with curious whispers surrounding your odd pair. you two made it seem like you had shared more than simple dinners and promises. in front of everyone, you looked used to being so intimate with satoru, but you were trembling in your shoes when he leaned forward, grazing his lips against your ear to try and make you understand that he wouldn’t allow any suitors to approach you just yet.

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who pulls you away from the crowd, stealing you away to his bedchamber in front of indiscreet pairs of eyes. he seems more impatient than ever when his instinct takes over and, god, your innocence has an unexpected hold on him. you question satoru with incomprehension in your eyes until he finally closes the door to answer you.

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who skillfully shows you everything you’ve been missing and every little sinful activity he’s been partaking in with innocent debutantes such as yourself. only this time, he means it. his hands touch every sensitive spot, his lips cover yours and trail down to your exposed chest. his fingers slipped under your dress, letting him discover your body with your help as you take him in, whining at his insensitive touch.

you’ll never know, that night, if duke satoru gojo meant to lose his mind over you in front of everyone else for his scheme and personal gain or if it had been purely accidental and you had just mesmerized the rake in a matter of weeks to the point where he couldn’t think about anything else but to have you in his bed for the rest of his life.

© shegetsburned 2024 please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own.

[mtchacffinz]

what a blunder!

prompt!!! Arlecchino personally deals with your unwanted marriage proposal in her own unique way.

content!!! fem!reader x arlecchino, SFW, impatient arlecchino, violence mentioned, marriage proposal, possessive arlecchino

note!!! "Farlahr" is a made up character for the sake of this ficlet. The Doctor here is NOT Dottore. something about arlecchino tweaking and losing a few screws is so hot to me so here you go girls this one is for my strap on arlecchino riders 🙏 im so normal

"He told me that if I consider him as my betrothed, I would be set for life." You smile up at her, albeit nervous. "Huh? Oh— Where are you going?"

Long empty corridors could carry even the faintest whispers. The moon peeks from the shadows, it's serene light softly caressing the harbingers figure— still, quiet, tensed. Her heels clang echoing all throughout the corridor, her gaze that was pinned straight forward seemed to pierce through the thick air surrounding the atmosphere.

Long empty corridors could carry even the faintest whispers, and Arlecchino failed to notice she started to hear her uneven breathing.

Peculiar. Truly peculiar..

"Right this way, Ma'am." Arlecchino set her gaze towards the head butler, greeted with the sight of a tensed figure in return. The head butler winces, stammering on his words. Was she glaring? She doesn't know. That's not important. She's needs to get through the door. "I- I will inform the Master of your arrival—"

"That will not be necessary." Her sultry voice cut through his words. "We have been long collaborators, a reunion shan't wait too long."

Her monochromatic figure heaves a soft breath, looking blankly towards the excessively pretentious door, it's sheer size looming over Arlecchino's figure— the entrance towards an office.

Eloquent and graceful, although her lips were painted with a polite smile, the person before her couldn't tell if the crimson woman was brewing something from within. The Knave was calculative and perceptive, an expert at keeping herself cold despite the scorching flames imbedded within her. The man kept his gaze at the floor, lacking the courage to even contest her gaze.

Those eyes, terrifying crimson hued crosses that could mess with your head tried to dare his optics to even catch a small gaze. Staring into them was ill advised indeed. The butler knew this for his heart was racing, and what added to the cold sweat undeniably trickling in his jaw was that Arlecchino stood unnervingly still— as if contemplating something under deep thought. Before anything could be done, Arlecchino firmly gripped the mansion door's handles in a few momemts, swinging it open with great force.

There had always been an air of nobility in Arlecchino's presence. As soon as she stepped foot into Farlahr's office, the doctor stood up in shock, startled.

"Please, excuse my abrupt visit, Doctor." Arlecchino deliberately spat out the title, a composed smile tugged at her lips. Farlahr's eyes widen at the sight of her monochromatic elegance painting his mansion floors with her presence.

"You're not too busy, I presume? Do let us catch up, I insist— I truly do." It was way beyond the wee hours of the night, the breeze was cold and unforgiving, and the doctor could feel it crawling up his spine. The Harbingers assertive words leave no room for arguments. As if there was an invisible wind from the room, forcing every bit of his movements to bend at her own will.

"I admit that it's quite off fashion to visit at this hour empty handed, Lord Harbinger." The man chuckled in an attempt to disperse the growing tension in the air. He swings his hands— decorated with glimmering stones to mask his nervousness. The woman quickly responded.

"I won't be empty handed for long."

"Pardon, Lord Harbinger?"

Arlecchino doesn't clarify any further, but directs her unwavering gaze to him. Dark, piercing. It was like a warning, a ticking bomb for the doctor to diffuse except there seemed to be no signs of dismissal any time soon.

His crisp smile quickly dropped.

"...I merely jest." Farlahr quickly followed up, as if it was the most amusing joke in the world. Arlecchino doesn't seem to share the same opinion, as her expression stood the same. Whatever The Knave came here for, he doesn't know just yet. And if he fails to catch on, Farlahr just might lose something. His head fell from the deep crevices of his panicked mind falling into one topic he suddenly could bring up as distraction.

With their history of collaborative partnership of 13 years, Arlecchino didn't have a single problem in regards to the business and it's contributions to the House of Hearth. Arlecchino didn't care for his obsessions with women and adulterous activities, the poised lady simply stood her ground due the information the Doctor withheld about the history of medical fallacies and treatments alike.

Arlecchino's rigid gaze quickly looked relaxed, unbothered. Her voice had voice lowered and her arms and legs sit crossed.

"I came here to offer a deal."

"And that is?"

It was no surprise to Arlecchino that Farlahr was a worldly man. Riches to riches, he has re-married at least three times and he's proud of that. Arlecchino didn't bother to comprehend his thought process. She believes that his brain was processed waste ideally converged with multiple nerves. His body reeked of metals, teeth gleaming brightly with silver. She kind of wishes she could rip it all out of his jaw..

"You will retract your marriage proposal." Arlecchino starts, "And I say this, your wealth, status, and people— all safeguarded as per usual."

Farlahr was taken aback by the sudden demand. He doesn't know if her statement stemmed from concern for his safety or a wake up call to his unethical hobbies. The opportunist in him say the opposite, it says that maybe you are some sort of leverage in this world— so valuable that even the 4th Harbinger of then fatui would personally come and abolish his plans of marrying you.

But the curiosity of his consciousness gnaws it's way out of his lips, asking one particular question.

"You disapprove of my wife and I?"

How disgusting. Utterly repulsive. Its almost an offense to your whole existence to be called a wife to someone as repugnant as him. The monochromatic grace managed to suppress her disgust by responding in a more poignant tone.

"Ah, forgive me." Arlecchino very slowly tilts her head, eyes unblinking. She effortlessly stands up from her seat, her coat elegantly swaying with her refined and poised movements, breath light as a feather— a shadow cast on her face.

"But I don't disapprove of your proposal, pig." In a moment, there was a switch in her tone. Her pointed high heels shoes dragged themselves against the expensive velvet carpet, dreaming to at least peirce through the back of a certain crisp, fragile cranium. With every step closer Arlecchino gets, the more Farlahr's heart pounds in his chest, daring to jump off.

She raises a hand and firmly places them on his shoulder.

"...I forbid it."

Serenity was all that could be described throughout the night. And you, as a person of idle leisure in the evening, appreciated the tranquil breeze that brush past your cheek. A soft sigh escapes your lips, falling into deep thought. What is there to do? With the last 28 hours you were given to decide on an answer, you're left quite bewildered. Tapping your fingernails on the terrace by muscle memory, your train of thought was disturbed when you head familiar foot steps behind you.

You turn around to see a sight of dignified beauty, standing before your sleepless eyes. Arlecchino's presence, despite the abruption, quickly calmed your disgruntled nerves down.

But something was wrong. Before you could ask about the residual crimson stains on her cheek and darkened hands, she speaks in a tone softer than any voice you've heard her.

"If I may ask, my dove, could you marry someone with an absent ring finger?"

Wow. What a random question. Completely uncalled for. Maybe the ungodly hours of the night got to her? Despite the conspiracies flowing through your mind, you try hard to think of an answer.

"Hmm. I should rephrase that. Could you marry a man with no fingers?" Arlecchino ponders out loud, "Despite a marriage contract, you must need a ring to put on his finger, right? Quite a shame, really.."

"No, I don't think so. Wedding rings are to be put on ring fingers, if I recall correctly."

"That's a relief." You raise a brow, completely lost. You gaze at Arlecchino, a subtle triumphant look paints her expression, her fingers play around with her numerous rings that sit comfortably on her fingers. Taking one out, she approaches your figure.

"May I embrace you, my lady?" Suddenly, the Harbingers sultry voice was sullen, sulking. My, what's up with this woman? A moment ago she shows up with (possibly) blood around her person, and now she's asking for sudden physical contact? After just a consonant of the reply 'Yes' was uttered, Arlecchino quickly took you in her arms, embracing you deeply— taking in your presence wholely.

"How I wish I could rid you the scent of that swine." She loosens her grip for a moment, putting a stray hair strand behind your ear. All this feels like a fever dream.. you remember that just mere hours ago, Arlecchino's face looked grim and unpleasant when she received news of your sudden proposal— her reaction left you perplexed. You thought it would be a good idea since Farlahr was a good business partner of hers, why the grim expression?

You pat her back comfortingly. Before you could say anything, Arlecchino quickly lets go of you, standing perfectly straight. Her face once again unreadable— she speaks in a calm and collected manner.

"That fool said that if you'd marry him, you would be set for life." She recounts, almost irritated. Arlecchino's crimson crosses gaze was away from you, but hands traced their way back to your arms, carefully holding them in hers. Her thumbs brush the back of your hands affectionately, with tenderness and care in her voice. Arlecchino's knee made contact with the floor, and her hands delicately handled yours as if they were the most precious thing in the world.

"You must marry me. All he could offer you, I could provide tenfold."

All of the sudden, the wind started to pick up, and the ethereal lady before you never looked so grand. Her monochromatic hair danced with the cool breeze, and her crimson eyes looked from above, transfixed on your figure. Your throat felt like there was too many words you could spit out in one go, and you were terrified that you'd ruin the atmosphere by stammering over your words.

"Marry me so you are mine to gratify. This is a promise I can keep, unlike that farce. Even at your grave, my everlasting flames will be buried with you in the dirt where you lay— in turn that you will never freeze from the cold kiss of death." The Harbinger adds, tenderly placing a peck on your knuckles. Her gaze could contest even the eyes of Archons at this very moment, possessing full confidence that upholds the standards of her capabilities.

Compared to her, what could a limbless man offer you?

my dumbass just woke up and decided to edit it a bit cus I was writing this at like, 3AM LMAOO, hello (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠) its me again, just dipping my toes in the water to see if I could still write 🤔

[screeching-bunny]

Yandere! Supernatural Harem

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

A/N: This idea was inspired by a Reddit prompt.

Ever since you were little, you’ve always attracted unwanted attention from supernatural creatures. You were like a magnet, a special enigma that only certain entities were aware of. Werewolves would try to take you to their dens, sirens would always try to lull you towards the sea with their voices, fairies would try to guide you to their forbidden forests. The list could go on and on.

Mythological creatures thought to be made up scary bedtime stories would always line up outside your door. It didn’t matter how old you were. Childhood memories consisted of these monsters trying to kidnap and force an adoption upon you. Teenage/adult years consisted of marriage proposals and courtship. No matter where you were, there was always a stalker up your trail following you.

Having friends was basically impossible. Every interaction you’ve had with another person has always ended up badly for them. Whether they be mutilated beyond recognition or become a seeping liquid you knew better then to go out and make friends. Thankfully, you’re family was never harmed by this ordeal and you moved as far away from them as possible to keep them safe.

Currently, you have a dilemma on your hands and right now it’s because of a certain Naga.

“Do you like my skin?” He asked in a tense voice. As he stands before you with his long serpent tail wagging through the air like a dog.

“It’s very pretty” You knew better than this. You felt like an absolute fool for picking up his shedded skin. Honestly, you should have just ignore it and went on with your day as if nothing was there.

“I’m so happy you think that way. If you like it that much let’s get married and I can give you as much as your pretty little heart desires. I’m so happy I decided to approach you. It took me months of prepping and working my skin to make sure that it shined brightly when it came off”

“It’s happening again,” you thought. Interactions like this happen on a daily basis. It would be strange not to see one marriage proposal a day from these guys. No matter what you did or how much you changed your appearance, these guys would always come back with eyes filled with love. Everyone of those supernatural creatures had their own unique version of courting and expressing their love.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t think I’m ready for marriage”

“You don’t have to be, as long as you come back with me I’ll make sure to treat you right and absolutely worship you. Being in your presence and being the only thing to brace your eyes is enough for me.

“I need some time to think about this, my emotions are still unclear”

“I understand this concern of yours and shall agree to give some time to ponder about this. However, I shall be coming back within a month's time and if you are still unsure I will take you back with me whether you like it or not” The naga states as slithers out of your yard and back into the forest.

The day just started and you were already exhausted. It honestly did not matter if he came back or not because, as said before, at least one supernatural creature was at your side. When he comes back, there would most likely be a bloodthirsty fight between two entities and you were sure as hell not going to get in the way by stopping the fight.

Well, there’s no use in moping around might as well just go back inside to make dinner for yourself. Walking towards your kitchen you go to pick up some food but before you could everything in your house was being knocked over.

“Seriously, again?!” You were honestly getting so sick of this. Your ghost admirer seemed to have barged into your home and was making a mess of it.

“If you’re going to stay here you might as well help me cook dinner” Honestly, the audacity of this man has you appalled. Out of all your obsessive admirers, the ghosts were definitely the most annoying. Every single day they always barge into your home and there’s nothing you can do about it because they can quite literally go through your walls.

“I’ll do it but only if you call me husband” he says lovingly as he starts to make his form appear visible to your eyes.

“Please, husband” And just like that, ingredients start to fly through the air. Hey, I mean who are you to deny free labor. If they're always going to make an appearance in your life might as well just make them useful.

After dinner, you decided to take a long needed bubble bath. Sometimes you wonder what life would be like if you were just a normal and average person. It didn’t really even matter anyways, it’s not like those wishes would ever become a reality.

Moving your way out of the bathroom you start to make your way to bed. As you lay there your eyes begin to droop and sleep begin to succumb to you.

It would have been a peaceful scene had it not been for the vampire staring at you through your window…

Pt.2

[niniluvsainz]

sad beautiful tragic ☽ cs55

(5.1k words)

masterlist |

in which... falling out of love was both relieving and terrifying.

carlos sainz x wife!fem!reader

(PLEASE READ) warnings... pregnancy, falling out of love, angst, pregnancy symptoms, baby delivering, carlos is a dad, reader is a mom, no use of y/n, public marriage proposal, yelling, yelling in front of a child, ferrari, how is it a carlos fic without lando norris being the adoptive son, abortion mention, aggressive carlos, slamming hands on surface, slight unwanted pregnancy, divorce, confusing ending bcs its eleven pm and im sleepy, not proofread.

WHEN YOU AND CARLOS MET, it was unprepared and you were both two naive children. carlos was just jumpstarting his motorsport career, and while he was in england, he met you. it was a small moment, at a nightclub, but the moment he laid eyes on you he knew he had found his person. the spaniard didn't know that night, july ninth, would change his life forever.

you, in your elegant maroon dress, swaying your body to the beats echoing around the small room. he had offered to buy you a drink, and you, already one too many drinks in, could not reject a handsome young man's offer.

you exchanged numbers that same night, and promised to go out one day again. two weeks later, that promise was fulfilled.

"i hope you like sushi," carlos mentioned, opening your side of his car door. you smiled, as you both walked hand-in-hand into the luxurious restaurant.

after hours of getting to know each other over sushi, a few appetizers, and two bottles of wine, you both decided to give the relationship a try. of course, with his career came many different events for carlos to attend around the world, but when he would be back in england, he'd spend all his time with you.

when carlos was called to be promoted into formula one to join the scuderia toro rosso alongside max verstappen, you were the first one he called to deliver the news. the next week, carlos had flown in to england to celebrate with you. you had both celebrated in multiple ways, and in one of those particular occasions, you became pregnant.

the symptoms began lightly, you became dizzy very frequently, and it wasn't until you could not take the sickness anymore that you went for a doctor visit.

when you heard the phrase, congratulations--you are six weeks pregnant, the pit in your stomach enlarged. how would you tell carlos? would he want to be a father? were you ready to be a mother? you didn't know who to tell, you felt alone. your parents were not in the picture, so you were actually and completely alone.

carlos was in italy, preparing for his formula one debut, and he would not be coming to visit you in two weeks. those two weeks were absolute misery, you couldn't pass down food, you'd felt horrible. when carlos arrived in your house, you tried applying makeup to hide the hollowness in your cheeks and how your warm skin tone had faded. however, carlos immediately noticed, including the drastic weight loss on your body.

"amor, what happened?" carlos had concern laced in his tone and features, holding you delicately as he pulled away from the welcome embrace. carlos' eyes scanned over you, as you tried to swallow the breakdown climbing up.

"let's go sit, please." you whispered, motioning to your couch. carlos had a million thoughts run through his head, all leading to different outcomes.

"i'm pregnant; eight weeks." you paused for a few seconds to register carlos' reaction.

being pregnant was not on carlos' mental list.

carlos' body language said it all, according to you. the slight arm hold loosening, his body slightly jerking away, and his eyes--oh, the eyes you grew to love and adore, now you could see the numerous emotions flooding him.

before he could say anything, you spoke first. "listen, i understand if you do not want to keep this baby. but, i made my decision, and i'm keeping it. i'm not going to force you to be in the baby's life, because i understand having a baby right now when the most important part of your career is just about to start--" carlos leaned in and placed his lips on yours. the tears began falling to your cheeks, staining his own.

when he pulled away, he stared deeply into your eyes. "corazon, you just made me become the happiest man alive. i love you." a smile formed on your lips, before you embraced him tightly. you clung to him for dear life, happy and relieved you wouldn't be alone in this after all.

"i can speak with my family, my mother and sisters can help you. but, you would most likely have to move to spain with me." carlos explained, releasing from the hug. "oh," was all you could mutter.

you had never seen past britain, it's always been home to you. but you knew if you wanted help you couldn't do it alone. "wouldn't you think it's kind of weird, that the first time i'm meeting your family it's because i'm pregnant with your child?" you asked, nervousness beginning to bubble in your stomach.

"no," carlos immediately answered. "i was thinking either way of taking you to meet my family during my time here, so they are expecting you, and they're really excited to meet you." carlos reassured. you nodded with a small smile. with one last look, carlos got up and headed to the kitchen.

"what are you going to do?" you asked, facing the direction he walked. carlos began grabbing pans out of your cabinet and multiple ingredients.

"i'm going to make sure my girlfriend and little carlitos are well fed. now, what are you craving?"

when you knew your baby would be on the way, you were actually on a boat with ana and blanca, carlos' sisters. you felt the painful kicks, and immediately told both sisters. the first thing they did was tell the boat to turn back to shore as fast as humanly possible, and then they called carlos, who was with his parents. you don't know how, but you truly believe a higher power was helping you. you blacked out for everything, and it wasn't until you regained consciousness again that you were being given your baby into your arms. carlos was right beside you, staring down at your newborn child. he was crying, just as you were. "it's little carlitos." you whispered, looking up at carlos with a large smile on your face.

carlitos seemed to grow very quickly in your eyes. you were eternally grateful for carlos sr and reyes, for being the most loving grandparents for your baby. they both took you in and treated you just like their own blood, "como una verdadera familia." (like a real family.) ana and blanca became close to you, and were the aunts that would spoil every little dime for carlitos.

carlos, of course, was the best father ever. you will admit, both of you walked into parenthood not knowing almost anything, but with the help of carlos' family, you both learned. you had decided to not yet accompany carlos to his formula one races, as you did not want carlitos out with the media at such a young age. carlos understood your reasoning, but you both were always supporting him by the television screen.

birthday celebrations were surrounded by friends and family, and carlitos was over the moon when he would see all the candy, piñatas, and colorful decor around the backyard of the sainz home.

a few weeks before carlitos turned three, you noticed carlos being very suspicious. you would catch him in his own lies, but decided on not commenting anything. instead, you tried speaking to ana and blanca but they would just divert your concerns to something relating to carlitos, and you would always fall for the trap, because you loved everything about your son.

of course you were not knowing what was about to come when carlos had simply invited you out to dinner. carlitos had stayed with reyes and carlos sr, the couple claiming they were wanting to spend quality time with their grandson.

it was a lovely dinner with carlos, as it had been quite a while since it was you two without carlitos around. your waiter had come to receive the check, but before leaving he informed you two, "there's a live band on the other side of the restaurant if you would like to enjoy some live music." you looked at carlos, a sparkling glint in your eye. carlos chuckled, and he got up from his chair, extending out a hand for you to grab.

you both walked towards the back of the restaurant that would oversee the city of madrid. the band, who was playing soothingly, added to the nice touch where one would stare out to the beautiful city and be able to listen to a calming tune.

“corazón,” carlos said beside you. you turned to look at him, only to see his gorgeous brown eyes staring at you with admiration. you smiled, and carlos cleared his throat before glancing down at the ground. he only looked back up to the band and gave them a slight nod, before getting down on one knee. he reached for his pocket, and you quickly glanced around your surroundings to see clients of the restaurant begin to take notice of what was about to happen in front of them.

the band’s music quieted down; you were sure carlos left them the notice in advance. your lips parted in shock, as you stared down at him. “mi vida, you are the love of my life. you have given me the gift of becoming a father to our son. i love you more than words and actions can describe,” carlos paused for a moment, as he saw you beginning to release tears from the corner of your eyes. he knew you hated ruining your makeup because of crying.

when carlos opened the small box he had put into view a few moments ago and positioned it in front of him to display to you, you felt the entire world stop for this one moment.

carlos said your full name, it sounded quite unnatural since he's only ever called you loving nicknames. "i'm already the happiest man right now, but will you add to that happiness and marry me?"

you nodded your head yes immediately and grabbed both his hands, helping him stand up and leaning in to meet your lips with his. the clapping sound surrounded you both as well as cheering sounds, but you paid no mind as you had everything you've cared for right in front of you.

once separated from the loving kiss, you opened your eyes to see carlos placing the gorgeous engagement ring on your finger, and you looked up as you saw the entire family standing feet away from you two. the tears from your eyes were uncontrollable, your emotions all over the place.

carlitos, only having a few months experienced in walking, wattled over to you and carlos. carlos picked his son up, and you placed a small kiss on carlitos' hand.

the family walked towards your own, congratulating you and carlos. "you knew, didn't you?" you asked blanca and ana. they both giggled, and you shook your head laughing. this is what family was. and you were so unbelievably happy you had won the lottery in that department.

the wedding came months later. it was a beautiful reception. a few of carlos' colleagues in formula one were invited. it was a wedding in december, so you and carlos would have enough time for your honeymoon before he would be back in racing. he was given his biggest opportunity yet in formula one, being promoted to drive in mclaren by the upcoming season.

both you and carlos agreed you wanted to expand your tiny family by adding another member. and by the time carlos had begun his new formula one season, you were already confirmed to be expecting.

being a mother in waiting is not pretty. you had gone through this process once with carlitos, and going through it again one would expect for it to go smoother, but it was just as difficult. this was all motherhood, was your motivation to keep going. for you, your husband, your son and your new baby on the way.

carlitos understood many things, including the fact he was going to become a big brother. when asked if he wanted a brother or a sister, he always answered he wanted "una pequeña hermanita." (a little sister.) you had also encouraged the entire family to speak spanish to carlitos so he would be fluent in both english and spanish.

your second child arrived during a very special event in spain. dia de los muertos (day of the dead.), to be exact. carlos was not with you, as he was halfway across the world in austin, texas.

you were with carlos sr and reyes, and they both took great care of you. ana and blanca took care of carlitos while you were in the hospital. you asked both in-laws to please do not tell carlos, as you thought this could completely flood his mind and he would not do good in the race.

your second child, camilo, was delivered on the second of november. if you were not mistaken, this day was the day of qualifying for carlos. and no way in hell would you ever call him for him to go ballistic and fuck it all up. and that's how it went. carlos did not hear from any of the family for the entire weekend, and even going into the next race. you did not want to tell him over the phone his newborn son was born. you didn't think he would take it so far, but he did.

after the brazilian grand prix, carlos was going back to spain to you. he would have a week and then he would fly to abu dhabi for the final race of the season. camilo was two and a half weeks already, and looked like the carbon copy of carlos. carlitos had more of your own features, but if someone were to definitely see camilo they would immediately recognize carlos sainz jr as the father.

when carlos arrived, you were putting camilo to sleep. carlitos promised to wait for his papi in the living room of your recently purchased family home. you didn't hear when carlos arrived, so when you heard the door of your shared bedroom open and you heard your husband's voice behind you say your name, you were startled and quickly turned around, not forgetting camilo was still in your arms.

"is camilo asleep?" carlitos asked in a hushed whisper. you turned around and placed your newborn son in his crib, before placing his blankets over him, and turning on the baby monitor.

"yes, he just fell asleep." you responded to your son's question. carlos' eyes were burning your skin, and you couldn't dare to look him in the eye. you even flinched when carlos spoke, but not to you.

"campeón, why don't you go to your room, i need to speak with mamá first. and then you can show me your new balón de fútbol." you pursed your lips before carlitos turned his head to look at you for reassurance, which you gave with a small smile and nod, and seconds later carlitos left to his own room happily skipping down the hall.

once carlos was sure his son was out of hearing distance, his attention was brought back to you. "i find out by my son, as soon as i walk through the door, that you had the baby?" carlos asked cautiously. his tone was neutral, but you felt the argument begin to approach. "you didn't even call to let me know?"

you took a deep breath before answering. "i didn't want you to find out over the phone, and you weren't going to be here because of your races."

carlos let out a scoff and rolled his eyes. "i had the right to know was son was born the minute someone had a hold of a phone at that hospital." his tone was aggressive, but not loud to wake up camilo or let carlitos hear.

"i didn't want you to mess up your races because i was having the baby and you wouldn't be around," you tried explaining. if it wasn't for camilo sleeping, carlos would be yelling right now.

"no, i would be flying back because i would want to see my wife and be there for her and for our new child!" carlos began whisper-yelling as he motioned to the sleeping baby behind you.

"i'm--i'm sorry, carlos. i thought i was doing what was best for you--" you were cut off by carlos' following words. "how do you know what's best for me? what's best was, knowing i had a son the second he arrived. i would have come back, and taken care of you and our sons. where the hell did you leave carlitos in all of this?" he asked, his face turning red from the anger he was projecting.

"he stayed with your sisters." you whispered, looking down. carlos nodded his head slowly before scoffing again. "when i could've been there!" he countered. you looked up to meet his gaze. "okay, but it happened! it's over, we can't erase time."

carlos stayed quite for a few moments, as if thinking his thoughts through. the argument was immature; of course on some parts you were wrong by not letting carlos know immediately, but carlos immediately went to argue instead of seeing his newborn baby for the first time.

carlos walked over to you and looked down at the sleeping child. you stared at the small interaction between both father and son, as carlos slowly gave camilo his pointer finger, to which the child, even sleeping, gripped the finger.

"he looks just like you," you whispered, staring between your husband and son. the corner of carlos' lips turned upwards, non-verbally agreeing with your statement.

"i'm sorry for the argument," carlos whispered, as he began carefully caressing camilo's head, which surprisingly had already a lot of hair.

"i should be the one apologizing. i wasn't thinking about anyone but myself in the moment." you muttered. camilo's grip on carlos' finger loosened, and he stepped back from the crib to embrace you into his arms. you hugged back tightly, in the end happy your husband was back with you to complete your growing family.

when the worldwide pandemic came about in the beginning of 2020, you were worried for carlos. worried how exposed he was to the sickness. that was until, the formula one season would be postponed until further notice. therefore, carlos went back to spain and although he was still staying in shape and training for when the season would resume, he also took this time to cherish the family bonding with his wife and two sons.

there were small moments, whether it would be playing fútbol with carlitos, both father and son teaching baby camilo how to play, but a baby can only watch. in carlitos' words, "when camilo is older we can team up and score the goals." you would be cooking, feeding your family, having movie nights, or even sometimes when the children would go to sleep early, you and carlos would cook a dinner for the both of you. it was these moments that made you cherish life.

in may, carlos was in talks with a new formula one team seeking him. carlos had accepted the deal, and it was a family celebration when he announced he would be driving for the scarlet red team next season, scuderia ferrari.

however, because of this, another person joined your family. and not in the way you thought. no, carlos' best friend, lando norris. you had not interacted much with the brit, but he seemed like a very funny guy based on interviews and crazy stories your husband would mention.

what lando norris decided, was that he would stay in your house for about a month before he would depart from his 'best mate.' staying as a house guest would later come to mean having another child and baby-ing him. the stay turned to two months, as lando also stayed to celebrate christmas, before he departed to his family for new years. lando meeting carlitos and camilo was wholesome, the brit would teach carlitos about golf, while camilo --who had began walking when he turned a year old-- would waddle the golf balls back to lando and carlitos, as this was his own way of playing with the two.

by the end of lando's stay, he was exclusively "uncle" or "tio lando" to carlitos. and lando spoiled the hell out of carlitos and camilo for christmas.

the 2021 formula one season brought many changes, one including carlos finally convinced you to attend a race. carlitos was not on your side either, as he has wanted to see his papa driving fast cars. it was three against one (as when camilo was also asked if he wanted to attend a race with carros, he would smile and laugh, which father and son took as a yes). you flew to bahrain with carlos and your two sons, and were actually entertained by everything going on in the paddock. carlos' new teammate, charles leclerc, was in awe of your children. carlos never talked about having a wife or even children, so your family entrance definitely turned heads from all around. you spent most of your time with your children, and sometimes accompanied by charles leclerc's girlfriend, charlotte, who also adored your children from the moment she saw them. your little family was cheering on for carlos in red the entire weekend.

however, as the year went by, you felt a shift. of course, family bonding was still there. you tried to hide it, but you felt a change when you were with your husband. sometimes you shrugged off the feeling, not wanting to think too much about it, but you knew. even if it wasn't spoken, your love for carlos had diminished. you almost felt empty inside at times, and maybe you blamed it on how back to back you had children and now that they're growing you just feel the nostalgia. this is what led you to ask your husband in the middle of the night the question.

"do you want to have another baby?"

carlos had turned his head toward you, staring deeply into your eyes. he held the eye contact for a few moments before responding. "i think we are perfectly well with carlitos and camilo, don't you think?"

"but wouldn't you like another one, carlitos keeps asking for a sister," you chuckled. "and our family will be complete."

"our family's already complete," carlos stated in a tone that projected, the conversation's over.

you nodded with a smile that didn't reach your eyes, before kissing his cheek and bidding goodnight. you turned on your side and closed your eyes, not another word spoken for the night. nights where you two would stay up until the next morning, whether it be to feed or change diapers, lay tangled in each other's arms, or just talk nonsense, too delirious to understand what the other would be speaking about. those nights were now a kiss goodnight, or just laying by each other and not speaking a word at all until you two would fall asleep, centimeters separating you both.

attending the grand prix's became a more regular thing, your boys always happy to be following their father, and you always cheering on your husband.

because carlos' good friend, max verstappen, had won his first world championship, he invited you both to celebrate. that night, both you and carlos had too much to drink, and weren't thinking of your decisions.

a month later, you're pregnant again.

carlos said he did not want another child, but what did you want? it was an innocent child's life, one who didn't even have an opportunity to see and experience the world.

you decided on telling carlos over dinner (the good thing is that tradition hasn't ended yet), and you were terrified to see his reaction.

"when did you find out?" carlos asked, taking a sip of his wine. "earlier this morning, i went to the doctor." you answered, trying to rub the sweat off your palms on your pants. "she said i was a month in."

of course, the night of max's celebration. that's the most recent time you have had sex, and before that it had been almost eight.

"i know you said you didn't want another baby, but carlos--" you were cut off by your husband slightly slamming his hands on the table, making you flinch. "you're pregnant, and now we move on with the pregnancy until the baby is born." he got up from the table and grabbed empty plates and silverware before taking them to the washing sink.

"goodnigtht." carlos said before departing to your shared bedroom. you stayed still in your seat, processing what you heard. one thing you were sure of, this baby was not wanted by its father.

the news was later given to your sons that they would become big brothers soon. carlitos jumped up and down in excitement, while camilo, still learning to understand words, only smiled widely.

nine months later, and you had a baby girl. carlos, someway between seven and eight months into the pregnancy, was deciding on girl names. you had chipped in that you wanted a 'c' name, as both your sons had one, so it would be neat if your daughter also had one. after much thought and debating, you both settled for carla. carlos sr and reyes helped calm the debate.

luckily, carlos was home for carla's birth. carlitos and camilo were with their grandparents, but carlitos had insisted he wanted to see his little sister before anyone.

when you and carlos arrived with carla back home, carlitos immediately wanted to hold her, while camilo was staring at her like she was an alien.

over time, carlos and you continued to try to make the family functional. but it started crumbling down, and you knew it was a matter of time.

your daughter was more difficult than how carlitos and camilo had been, so at some instances in the middle of the night carlos would get up from the bed while you were feeding carla and go sleep in the guest bedroom.

you took carla to the paddock earlier in age than you did with your sons. carlos insisted you accompany him, and to bring the entire family. you didn't want to, as carla was still small. but carlos begged and insisted.

the beginning of the 2023 year did not go as you thought it would. you tried hard, you really did, to keep your family in one stand. but carlos wasn't helping.

you tried showing you were a happy family to your children, because you did not want them to go through what you did. which is what made your parents divorce and leave you in the middle of it. you did not want that for your family.

your routine was now: wake up, feed the kids, do chores, feed the kids again, maybe go visit reyes and carlos sr, and if carlos was home take the kids to play, go to sleep. no more traditions, no more nothing.

you weren't happy anymore. you saw carlos wasn't either. it was just routine at this point.

when carlos got the call he was no longer driving at ferrari, he isolated himself. he didn't speak to you, he ignored the children, even his parents. you would be folding laundry and he'd come out of the guest room (which was now declared his) to see if there was food. you would just start cooking after you finished laundry, but he wasn't patient.

"the food isn't ready?!" he would ask agitated. you swallowed hard, not wanting to cry and seem weak. "i'll get started on it in a bit, let me just finish folding these clothes and--"

you would stop speaking because he would grab a jacket and the car keys, and leave without another word. carlitos would be the one to come out of his room, and ask if you were okay.

"yes, i am. dad just went for a pizza." you smiled. carlitos would jump in delight, before running to tell his siblings in the other room. you would grab your phone and order pizza delivery.

2024 was the year you were just exhausted. and the last turning point was after carla's second birthday party. you had both agreed to celebrate her birthday a week before, as carlos would be in baku for a race weekend on her actual day.

the whole day, carlos didn't show up. he didn't show up to his daughter's birthday at all. when you called numerous times, it would send to voicemail. you asked ana and blanca, even his parents, to contact him. it was carlos sr who he answered to. he was training, not even knowing his daughter was waiting for him.

when carlos arrived home well after the party had ended, you didn't direct a word to him.

carlos called out your name. "look, i'm sorry, okay?" you stopped washing the dishes and scoffed looking his way.

"you are apologizing to me? it's your daughter you dissapointed!" you yelled. you knew the children would hear, but that wasn't your current thought process at the moment.

"and i'm just, i'm sick of it all! i'm sick of excuses, i'm sick of you pushing me away, i'm sick of not being good enough for anything anymore!" you aggressively wiped your hands on a towel, before wiping your tear-filled eyes.

"what do you want me to do? be happy when i'm clearly not? fake a happy family when it's far from that?" the last statement was like a puncture to your breaking heart.

all you wanted, was a happy and loving family. you had it for a while, but now that was over. and maybe if you wanted to continue being happy, you had to step away this time.

"i can't be with you anymore." you spit out. carlos widened his eyes, your statement hitting him like a rock. "what?" he managed to blurt out.

"i can't pretend to be a happy family anymore. i won't."

your lawyer grabbed your arm lightly. "hey, are you okay?" he asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. you blinked and nodded your head.

the judge had decided both you and carlos would share custody of your children. two weeks, they would be with you, the other two carlos would have them. you and carlos would still interact and would need to have 'family bonding' once every month with the children. carla would be the only exception, as until she is five years old she would be able to stay with carlos.

it would be hard learning outside a life you had always known, but you had your children to motivate you. you had supporters, who at the end of the day were your family.

it was a sad, beautiful, tragic love story. one you learned, cried, and were both happy and sad in.

author's note: OH MY GOSH. anyways hope y'all like it mwah. as inspo i was listening to sad beautiful tragic, all too well, tolerate it, and you're not sorry. i definitely prefer smau better than written fics, so expect more of those soonnnn

[the-monstermash]

UNBROKEN BETROTHALS pt. 3

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Synopsis: After running away from an unwanted proposal, you find yourself working in a brothel as a cook. When a certain guest takes an odd liking to you, secrets are revealed and betrothals unbroken

Warnings: Angst, Brothels, Mature, 18+, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language

Word Count: 2, 031

> A/N: Catch the corny tie-in at the end of the chapter. I think maybe one more chapter will wrap up this story.

You were in a bout of disbelief. You'd not left your room in days, taking your meals and guests in the rooms. Sylvi was obviously angry with you, because she’d said nothing about you not cooking. She likely had already hired a new cook to replace you, no doubt planning to kick you out the moment you stepped outside again. Where would you go? Back to the Riverlands was always an option, but you were afraid of what you might find if you returned.

How could you not be? Your entire life you had thought of your parents as betrayers. You'd thought they'd wished to sell you off to some disgusting man, to rid themselves of the burden of you. In reality, what choice had they truly had? To reject the king would be dishonorable, not to mention impossible. They would’ve had to respond immediately, to agree in your stead.

How could you ever think so lowly of them? They'd given you so much love in your youth, how would they ever do something so cruel if they'd had the choice not to? Were they heartbroken at the loss of a daughter? Did they think you dead? Or did they accept that you just didn't want to be with them anymore, and you'd left for a better life. Were they still looking for you? You didn't know which was worse.

And then there was Aemond.

Why had he cared so much? You were of no great house, and your marriage would be of no benefit to him. Your running away should've been to his relief, not his anger. Then, for him to track you down, and push his intentions on you. What was the purpose?

The knock on the door did not make you rise from the bed as it would've a week ago, and you did not call to the visitor like you would've a week ago. Instead, you waited for whoever it was to either let themselves in, or go away. You'd be happy with either one.

The creak of the solid door told you they'd chosen the former.

"Are you awake?" Lauryn's voice pulled a sigh from you. 

She'd come with more questions, or to gossip about what was happening outside of your room.

"If I was not before, your presence has brought me a sense of invigoration." You smiled sadly, patting the bed for her to enter.

She stepped inside the room, but did not cross the distance. Her absence in the door frame was filled with another. A much taller, blonder, guest, that put much more dread in you than she had.

"Lauryn, what is this?" You sat up, crossing your arms and pulling the blankets up to cover your nightclothes. He stepped into the center of the room, hands behind his back, looking around to take in the sight.

"He's demanded to see you." We can not deny him, is what she said with her eyes. You nodded at her and she quickly fled the room, closing the door behind her.

The silence was not comfortable, nor was it unwelcome. You knew if he spoke, it would be about the betrothal, and that would make you think of your family, and you would be back to worrying for your dear family and how they were fairing. You felt so vulnerable, wrapped up in your blankets and nightclothes before him, all alone.

"My prince, you wanted to see me?" You propped your knees to your chest, sure you looked like a big pile of sheets with a head on top to him.

"I wanted to see you were well." He finally took his eyes off your meager decorations, and looked at you. "Have you had any more spells?" You shook your head.

"I'm quite well."

"And have you thought any more of my words?" You sighed, exasperated, but relenting to the fact that he simply would not let this go.

"Of course I have. It's all I've thought about, holed up in this room. That, and where I'll go once Sylvi casts me from my home. Because of you." You wanted to yell, but you just did not have the energy.

"Me?"

"If you'd just accepted my answer, she would have gotten past it. But you pursued, and chased, and you would not relent."

"I'd relented the first time you rejected me, how many rejections did you expect I would take?"

"Relenting would've been leaving me be, not seeking me out here when you knew I was content."

"I did not come here for you, you happened to be here." You rolled your eyes.

"I *happened* to be in a kitchen, hidden away from everyone where *you* found me in search of 'wine’? There was wine everywhere up front, it is a whore house! You knew I was here, and you found me, because you could not accept the rejection. You sought me out, you said so yourself." He blanched at you repeating his words to him. Perhaps he thought you did not remember your last conversation.

"So I sought you out. What is the crime in it? You were my betrothed, and I would not have you running about the world any longer. I demand to know why you rejected me so long ago, and why you reject me now. I am more than suitable for you, and you should have been proud to serv-"

"I did not know it was you!" You silenced him with your yell. "I did not run away from marrying you, I ran away...because I thought my parents were to send me off to some gray man I did not know, and force me to wed him, and I would spend my whole life with some old Lord who did not love me, and I would never live! I was a child, and I was afraid, Aemond."

He was silent for a moment, before sighing and coming to sit at the edge of your bed.

"And why do you refuse me now?"

"I guess I thought if I married you, then I might as well have married the first man. It would've saved me a lot of trouble, and made my family proud, at the very least." He nodded at that and looked away. "Why do you want me so badly?"

He tilted his head, thinking for a second before shrugging his shoulders. You scoffed at that and stretched your legs to leave room for your crossed arms, not believing that he was just pointlessly pursuing you.

"I've had enough rejection for one lifetime. I'll not have any more." It was a simple answer, and given the past you knew of him, you supposed it made sense. He'd been refused a dragon, friends, a father, a crown. You could see how when you, a simple girl from nowhere, rejected him, it might have confounded him, and tipped him over the edge. He seemed deep in thought, or perhaps deep in memory, and before your eyes you saw him regress into the young boy he'd been, when all he knew was hurt and rejection.

In a way, you pitied Aemond. He had led a sad life, but he'd also led a privileged life. and that privileged life often made people overlook the hurt he'd faced as a child. He was a prince, and that made him revered and respected in many aspects, but he was also a scared, hurt little boy, with no respect from his peers and no one to truly turn to.

"I suppose I can understand that." He turned to you, his lips turning up in acknowledgement before he gently laid his head in your lap.

It surprised you, though it shouldn't have. He was desperate for appreciation and affection. That was why he was here, after all, begging you to reconsider marriage to him.

You had reconsidered it over these past few days. You'd thought it over in a hundred different ways, and truthfully, without the added angst of your parental situation, you really had no reason to say no to his proposal. He was a perfectly respectable husband, and with his doting nature, you'd thought he'd treat you quite well. You could see yourself content with him, if not happy.

"I suppose marriage wouldn't be so bad if my husband were agreeable." You gently found yourself petting his hair, making him close his eye.

"Hm." Was his simple answer, a hum of content, yet it prompted you to elaborate.

"He would have to be kind, of course. And perhaps handsome, though not superficial. I would like him to be strong, and brave. Though, not to the point of recklessness. Perhaps a Stark." You looked down at him with a playful smile, and he responded with a chortle. "You're right, I do hate the cold." You scratched at his scalp.

"You'll make an exceptional wife, and I'll make you happy." He turned onto his back so he was looking up at you, his soft eyes gazing up at you.

He truly was beautiful. His features were in total opposition, his long, soft hair, sharp jaw, and sweet eyes all combined to make a statuesque deity laid before you. His hair was almost pearlescent in the way the fire flickered across him, changing the hues in a second, and blending in oranges and reds and magnificent  yellows.

You could not think of a way to tell him you were conceding, and he'd finally won. You just smiled down at him and nodded.

"I need to see my parents." Your voice broke at the mere idea, and he nodded immediately, sitting up and turning to hold your face.

"I'll see it's done. We'll call them to King's Landing."

"Thank you, Aemond.”

He tilted himself just slightly, enough for you to understand what he was asking for. You leaned in enough to meet your lips to his in a soft and gentle kiss. You rest your hand on his jaw, and the other on his chest. He pushed himself against you more to deepen the kiss, pushing you back onto your hands.

His kiss was desperate, and held an air of pure satisfaction. It was not overly rushed, but deep and passionate. You could feel him pour his soul into it, like a beautiful piece of poetry. Every suckle was a sonnet, every sigh a sestina. He pulled your body to his, and it was a haiku, consisting of syllables only spoken in physical language. And you hung onto every single word.

You pulled away for air, but he didn't let you get far, holding his hand to the back of your head, your forehead pressed against his. Your bodies still moved in sync, rising and falling with breath, slowly calming yourselves back down.

"We'll marry as soon as your parents arrive. The very same day."

"Shouldn't you ask the king? I’m sure your family won’t relish  the thought of a prince marrying a common cook. You could marry at a much higher advantage for the war."

"There is nothing common about you. And besides, my father already approved the marriage all those years ago. My brother won't deny me." You nodded.

"I'll see you again? Before the wedding? Promise you'll come see me." He raised his eyebrow at that, clearly confused about something you'd said.

"You're coming to the castle with me, are you not, my Lady?" The title made you chew your lip, you had not heard it in a very long time. “I’ll not have my wife sleep in a brothel any longer, I’ve suffered it long enough.”

“This brothel is my home, and you’ve had no trouble turning in a night or two if I remember correctly. Besides, I wouldn’t want to offend your family by assuming I was welcome. You should confirm the betrothal first with the king.” He sighed and turned away, but came up with no argument.

“I’ll be back for you, in a week’s time-at most. Say your goodbyes, pack your things. Prepare to be a princess of the seven kingdoms.” He stood and leaned for one last kiss.

“I’ll be waiting, my prince.”

And with one more lasting stroke of your cheek, he left to unbreak the betrothal you’d abandoned so long ago.

@mamawiggers1980 @dahlias-and-marigolds @starrflowerr @aemondwhoresworld

[satoruhour]

hello :) may i ask a husband nanami headcanons? your so talented!

a/n: ty anon !!! i hope u like this :3

warnings: (in second half of post) pregnancy kink? breeding / creampie kink ofc, consensual somnophilia, praise, pet names

i. sfw headcanons

nanami is so sweet when he first proposes to you! ofc you have sex on the daily or weekly but when he’s reading his speech to you when he’s kneeling down it’s so sweet that you cry

and this dude wonders why you’re tearing up when his words literally mirror a poet’s LMFAO

nanami proposes at a quiet place only the two of you frequent, to avoid unwanted attention like crowds (he’s just thinking about gojo and how annoying he would be)

but also because he just wants it to be as special as he can make it out to be

honestly, if the whole kuantan thing works out he would love to propose there while the waves and horizon set the scene naturally. like he already knew he wanted to retire from being a jujutsu sorcerer here but he just melts when you’re here too. everything wrapped up in one, and the tear-filled “yes!!!” makes him jump and warms his heart

has a dinner laid out for you and everything and if the beach is deserted he wouldn’t mind having u right there LOL hes quiet but freaky just sayin’ !!!

when you walk down the aisle he cries. really

and is now obsessed with how he can call you ”his wife” as opposed to “his girl” 

okay but now on to the domesticity. the dynamics are almost the same: he isn’t against you heading out to earn your own money, and he’s more than happy to be a stay-at-home husband if you want him to, but seeing you in your cute apron has him already thinking of family and how you would bounce the baby on your arm as you prepare dinner

nanami is more doting when he’s your husband, not that he wasn’t before, but he thinks it’s the old age when he sees your leg cramp and he massages it or when you squint at your book so he turns up your lamp to a higher setting

also likes to flaunt off his wedding ring, albeit with flushed cheeks. he does it when he drinks tea, sliding gojo his paper work, polishing his weapon and it’s silent, laidback bragging and only gets annoyed when gojo asks about it

if anyone else does it he’s happy to talk about you lol

is a lot more slack when it comes to his salary and treating you to things, saying things like “oh, it’s okay, my pretty wife deserves this”

nanami does his part of the housework now that you’re permanently living together and pulls his weight — buying cleaning supplies, folding the laundry, buying food for the dog

he doesn’t care much about gender roles and is willing to show you that a good husband shouldn’t just be a milestone to complete and then immediately refuses to participate in household work

deadbeat husbands = boooooo

for now you’re still busy as jujutsu sorcerers, but after a year or two of being married he’s trying to convince you to take less missions, partially because he’s afraid of curses taking advantage of your relationship (not that they didnt before, but now they have a leverage against you) and marriage to hold either of you hostage

but the main reason for the persuasion is because he wanted a kid. and you step back in shock because nanami kento? wanting a kid? it seemed so out of character for him but considering how much he liked to come in you… was already pretty telling

like he loved the dog but also wanted like. biological kids. it was wild, he knows, even when you tell gojo (he’s still a little mad that you did, but it was an accident), even the six-eyes user was pretty surprised.

when the kid comes he’s just. crying again. he really loves you so much, and the fact that you carried a baby for nine months and was in pain for 12 hours and then pushed a whole ass baby out ur vagina? goddamn

you two name her nanami kumiko and he holds her like she’s the only one in the world (besides you), cooing gently as how the baby seem to snuggle into his warmth

he gives her a danish name too: ida, but he’s not sure if he should include it in the birth certificate, so he didn’t

he is very protective of his girl, especially how you techniques seemed to be passed down and how the jujutsu society might be seeking out your offspring in kuantan, but he makes sure no one comes close to the two of you, even asking gojo reluctantly to monitor any news of the higher-ups looking to ruin her childhood

nanami really thinks it’s age now, because he find it so hard to say no to your baby girl whenever she asks for something — whether non-verbal or verbal

is a calm dad, usually burping the baby after you feed her, changing her diapers, etc., even suggesting bonding by holding her close with skin-to-skin contact and you're surprised he even knows about that

you give in when you see that he does it anyway, rocking the baby softly on the balcony with his top off, already knowing she’s going to be a daddy’s girl when she grows up

spoils his daughter but still disciplines her when it’s necessary, but he reverts to gentle parenting when he needs to. learns how to tie hair because of her, teaches her about manners and consent and tells her he has no problem if she decides to punch a guy one day. she’s just confused lol, why would i need to do that, dad?

bless him, she got your kind disposition, but yeah he emphasises that she should stand up for herself if needed

during pregnancy, he’s also making sure you never lift a finger, running across the house to complete errands, going out to buy your cravings and regulating your diet. it’s pretty cute but nanami is sometimes really strict about what you eat because he doesn’t want your health to decline lol

“just one cup of coffee… please?”

nanami only grunts in disapproval, hoping a peck to your forehead can wake you up, ”no.”

okay but that’s a lot, i have a lot of Thoughts

now…. 

ii. nsfw headcanons

building on that hc earlier abt going from calling you ”his girl” to ”his wife”, he uses it so much in the bedroom you’d think it was a fetish

and you kinda understand it, there’s the jump of your heart when he introduces you as “his wife” compared to a mere girlfriend

honest to god, coming home that day and seeing you cook wasn’t the first time he’s thought of having a kid. it’s happened many times before, seeing you interact with the first-years, guiding a first-grader home after a mission

and sure he’s done it before, but you’re always on the pill and he has really really thought of getting a vasectomy, but then he thinks of how cute you’d look with a round belly, carrying his baby and that glow that he knows he’s the reason for

so the day he proposes to you, he fucks you like an animal, cumming deep in you with choked groans and fills you up.

wedding night? same thing

but what really got him going was after he told you about wanting a kid, and you begging with those eyes of yours is what drove that string to snap. “i w-want you— shit— to fuck a baby into me, kento!” 

wheew and he goes insane. nanami loves it when you beg for his cum, legs locked around his body to get him to do it. you’re relentless too, spreading your folds for him as his cum seeps out slowly and soon he’s fucking his cum deep into you again, filling you up two, three, four times

and he doesn’t exactly care if that time doesn’t work because now he knows you aren’t taking contraception so he just does it regularly for good measure.

you aren’t complaining because you’ve never seen nanami so feral when he’s pushing his cum deep into you, whether it’s with his cock or with his fingers. that period before your pregnancy was so fulfilling that you wouldn’t mind pushing out another baby for your husband, if it meant getting railed by a man on a mission to make you a mommy

by god he fucks you on every surface of the house

when you’re pregnant too, you can’t help but get wet bc of your hormones and sometimes comes home from work, tired and needing some relief

he finds relief between your legs when you’re sleeping, talking about how nice it was to get used while sleeping, but you didn’t expect nanami to utilise it while you’re pregnant. you wince and groan as you sit up, but you need to see your husband lapping at your cunt immediately, moaning into your core like a starved man

but ofc nanami is a lot gentler when you’re pregnant. he offers to do the work, thrusts gentler and less impactful, but he still feels so good

a few years after marriage, sex is still an ongoing thing, but it’s converted more into love-making and lazy intercourse because you weren’t exactly young. sure you both would go crazy a few times a week but it was difficult with a maturing kid in the room next to yours.

you both would also take the time to discover other kinks!!! always busy, it was a difficult thing to do, but in between taking care of kumiko and handling lighter missions, you’d find new ways to continue keeping your love and sex life exciting

nanami liked going slow with you too though whispering into your ears endless praises of how you were doing do well, settling into missionary so he could see how his thrusts still had the same effect it did on you years ago

“doing so well, sweetheart. that’s it… my pretty wife’s such a good girl f’r me.” 

nanami wasn’t against a second child, but sometimes he sees how much you go through in labour and in pregnancy that he becomes lightheaded with what could happen to you, especially with the unexpected illnesses that come with pregnancies. he told himself he would only grant you another if you ask for it

but then one day when kumiko prances up to you in the midst of her math homework, asking when she would get a little sibling and youre taken aback while nanami just chokes on his tea

yeah, sure, you taught her sex education way before her peers and how babies are made but you didn’t expect to actually ask the two of you straight up about having a sister or brother

that night, you mulled over the decision, and nanami mumbles into your neck from the back, ”don’t worry about kumiko, baby. she’ll probably forget it sooner or later.”

“but what if i want to give her one though?” you mumble, your smaller hand guiding his lower and lower…

“do you want to?” nanami only can suck in a breath when he feels your throbbing cunt, your nimble fingers showing his how you liked your clit to be rubbed. even if he knows you inside out he still lets you do it, “i do… do you, kento?”

his first name is whispered, breaking the tension and nanami has to hold himself back from handling you too roughly, loving the way you grin languidly.

oh, here comes round 2!

omg headcanons are so fun lol i never wrote 1k words so fast since they’re informal and chill

[kalki-tarot]

A Past Life's promise ✧˖°.

Pick only one picture from above.

This tarot reading will include :

A significant past life love story of you and your lover in this lifetime

Any events / promises / situations that took place in that lifetime

Anything which is affecting your current life

Disclaimer : kalki tarot is not responsible for any decisions you make on behalf of this reading. tarot is not 100% accurate all the times. this reading is only for entertainment purposes.

PILE 01.

who were you ?

You guys were rich and wealthy people, both you and your lover, in this past life. Or you guys belonged to super powerful families and you kind of knew each other through professional means. But you guys had a mutual attraction towards eachother. But maybe you did not turn it into a relationship because of societal norms or restrictions.

what happened in this significant past life ?

The feminine in this connection (most probably the one who's reading this can be the feminine but does not matter) had to go through a contract marriage in return of money or because of some political benefits with someone else whom your family selected for you. This felt very shocking and unexpected to both of you. But with the queen of cups, you had to accept this unwanted marriage because you couldn't deny your family and you had to act like a good and faithful daughter. Even though your heart still belonged to the person you loved. Although, this contract marriage was not that special and it didn't have any love.

Later on, after this heartbreaking situation, your lover went through a very tough time accepting the reality, that you are now married to someone else. You guys never communicated to each other about this love that you shared. But you guys knew it that you both love each other intuitively.

After some time passed your lover started traveling through different countries and states to distract himself. Later on, he moved to a total different place to forget all the silent memories he created with you.

In this lifetime

The same situation of restrictions or societal norms will be created in this life time maybe due to cultural differences, or different religions etc. And you guys will have to break these restrictions for each other's love in this life. You guys promised this to each other and yourselves.

This lifetime will test your love for each other but once you guys are ready to fight for eachother, crossing all boundaries, things will fall into place and you both will get to live a very happy and sweet family life together. ♥️

PILE 02.

who were you ?

Hmm, this lifetime feels like the medieval times. Someone was a very rich and well established business man here. Most probably your lover. You loved them very much, like very much. But maybe you thought that you will get rejected by them, or you did not have guts to tell them about this. I'm seeing you being a normal person unlike their high social status, you were someone very ordinary. And due to this difference you faced disappointment in yourself and in your in love. I'm not seeing a relationship here at this point. I guess you assumed that you are in unrequited or one sided love. I can see your lover being very famous and popular, like a war hero or smth. And they too felt trapped whether to move forward woth you or not as their social image would get affected by getting involved with someone of a low class.

what happened in this past life?

You were someone who had a lot of fears and issues with your self worth, maybe in this lifetime too. Your mind would overthink of stressing situations. It's like you had a fear of getting rejected by this love of yours cuz you thought you were nothing for them. You felt like walking away.

While on the other hand, your lover too had many options in love. Many people proposed marriage to them but they too did not move forward with any of these people.

Wow, okay, this is interesting. Something shocking or unexpected took place and your feelings of love were exposed to them. Maybe your friends told them or they just somehow got to know. And you felt very scared but somehow you managed hope and strength and you confessed to them directly.

But you won't believe what happened next. They reciprocated your feelings. They too loved you. They started a relationship with you and people started making rumors about you guys. This news spread like a wild fire and their status was taken away. They hit the rock bottom. They were left with no money or home in return of loving you. But they did not give up. You guys moved to a new place with the world card here. You guys then got married and lived your life happily earning a small but decent amount of money.

You guys can be soulmates.

In this lifetime

You will struggle with self worth and uncertainty in this lifetime too. And you will have to fight it for your own betterment before meeting this person. This is a fated situation.

You'll first have to complete this cycle of not loving or believing in yourself enough only then you will be able to meet your soulmate.

[yanderes-galore]

May I ask for a Daemon Targaryen concept from A Song Of Ice And Fire?

Daemon is certainly... terrifying as a yandere, actually-

Yandere! Daemon Targaryen Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Flirtation/Implied unwanted advances, Possessive behavior, Controlling behavior, Violence, Murder, Blood, Threats, Isolation, Mature themes, Mentions of bedding, Toxic behavior, Forced marriage, Biting/Marking, Forced relationship.

Daemon is arrogant, a prince uncontrolled and demanding of approval.

He's known for seducing those that capture his interest.

Out of most of the ASOIAF yanderes, I assume Daemon is among the worst.

He's persistent, demanding, and controlling.

He wants power as much as he wants approval.

He has a twisted form of love towards those close to him and isn't afraid to do immoral acts to get what he wants.

Need I remind you Daemon had his original wife killed as he didn't like her?

I imagine Daemon would trail behind his obsession like a shadow if they caught his interest.

It's nearly impossible to get rid of him.

Plus, Daemon has one of the fiercest dragons at his disposal, Caraxes.

The Rogue Prince is described as charming yet dangerous.

He is quick to take offense and hates others wounding his ego.

Which means if you refuse him, he tries harder.

Daemon is used to people finding him attractive.

He could take anyone he wants to his bed.

Except you.

You refusing his interest... would no doubt wound him and his pride.

Daemon definitely likes what he can't have.

He's someone who has learned he has to fight for the attention he deserves.

In fact, it's canon he cherishes the approval of his brother Viserys.

He hates being neglected.

He hates being controlled.

I'd imagine Daemon's courting is not only persistent, but violent.

Daemon would fight in tourneys for you, find you gifts, anything to impress you.

Daemon originally saw seducing you as a challenge, yet another little conquest to add to his belt.

But over time I can see Daemon... crave your presence.

A way I think a yandere Daemon could start is certainly with someone who doesn't immediately give in to him.

At first he's obsessed with the challenge, but soon realizes he can't bring himself to stay away.

Daemon can't even distract himself with other partners.

Brothels don't have much appeal anymore, maids offering themselves to him just makes him irritated.

He wonders if he can't part from you due to his ego at first.

He can't admit that you won this little game of his.

In reality, he's obsessed with you.

He craves your praise, your attention, your approval.

He no longer wishes to seduce you and be done with it.

Now he feels he needs you... all of you.

It's not just about bedding or pleasure now...

He feels no one else can satisfy him but you.

By this point... he'll do anything for you.

Just so he can get that approval he craves, even if it harms his ego.

Daemon is known to quickly take to violence.

With you it's rare, thankfully.

To others? Well... it's certainly more common.

Daemon wouldn't want anyone else courting you once he has his eyes on you.

Daemon pays close attention to those around you.

Servants, knights, lords....

The moment he sees someone court you, he's quick to stop it.

He may simply step in the way, perhaps even threaten them in a low tone as he grips his sword.

I wouldn't put killing other suitors past him.

He may excuse it as a "duel gone wrong", even though the reason his sword is dripping blood is because he played unfair.

Daemon's selfish, he doesn't care about your freedom.

In the end he ultimately wants you as his.

He even turns down other proposals for a betrothed, his gaze fixed on you.

After all, he's willing to go beyond immoral to have you.

He'll spill the blood of countless others if it means locking you into a marriage with him.

You could have a betrothed, or merely a secret lover, Daemon will find out.

Is it really that much of a surprise to learn he's killed them?

The scene is no doubt grotesque, his blade deep inside their flesh as their blood pools on the ground.

Surely you'll see just how serious he is, yes?

Which means... you should know what your answer is when he asks you to marry him, right?

Obviously, Daemon is possessive.

Possessive to the point he'd paint the streets red without even needing Caraxes to make you his.

You, as his beloved, can only resist his need for so long.

It feels fantastic when he marries you, a traditional Targaryen wedding.

By the end of it he knows you're his.

No one can touch you without expected consequences.

Touching what belongs to Daemon is the same as disrespecting him.

He never wants you far from him, keeping you by his side with a hand around your waist.

Any who insult you are met with their tongue taken... in the literal sense.

It's hard to calculate how many would fall to Daemon's blade over you.

The blood means nothing to them.

In fact, their corpses help feed his steed Caraxes, the blood wyrm even seeming to appreciate your presence.

Daemon doesn't understand why you bother mourning.

He's making a point, he's showing you're his.

You're his to possess.

You could try to flee, you could try to hide, Daemon knows you're his even if you don't.

Why bother looking so upset...?

Daemon showers you in affection and gifts, anything to earn the approval he craves.

He wants you to feed his ego, to tell him you love him.

He wants you to kiss him as he holds you in his lap.

He wants you to squirm when he digs his teeth into your neck.

You should be happy he's so dedicated.

He's even had his previous lovers killed to show you he's focused on you.

Is that what you wanted?

Do you crave his dedication?

If that will make you his... then he'll do anything.

To Daemon, he takes his House's saying seriously.

Daemon would spread 'Fire and Blood' if it meant you'd be his alone.

You'd be mistaken if you still thought he did all this just to bed you.

No, Now Daemon has truly given into his obsession... He only wants you...

No matter how many have to burn or be cut down... you'll always be his.

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Delicate part. 6

Gwayne Hightower x reader

Description: Gwayne indulges his Lady's wish to dress in the colours of his House in the hopes that this will endear him to her. When he rides forth to meet Daemon's challenge in the jousting, he discovers how much his Lady cares for him. Gwayne must face another challenge at the tourney banquet, as he defends his Lady from unwanted attentions from another man.

Writer's note: Thank you so much for all your lovely comments on the last part of this story and I apologise for the delay in getting this over out. Life just got in the way but I hope you enjoy the next installment. Tags in the comment section :)

Warnings: sexual harassment, violence, female reader, touch averse and asexual reader.

When the dawn rose on the second and final day of the Heir's tournament, Gwayne was already awake. He had resolved to ready himself quickly, in order to be able to escort his sister and lady to their seats before he made his own way to participate in the jousting. He looked forward to another chance at impressing his lady with his prowess on the field, in the hope of convincing her of his suitability as a husband and protector for her. The appearance of his lady in green attire at the banquet following the tournament the day before, had bolstered his determination to win her heart to him. It was the second time he had seen her adorned in his House colours and he had meant what he said when he told her that he hoped to always see her in them. The colour green had never looked so beautiful to him, symbolizing as it did his tender hope that Y/N would one day be the Lady Hightower. He dared to hope that her wearing it intimated that she had warm feelings towards his House and himself. That she may yet open her heart to him.

Alicent's confidence that no one could resist loving her brother and her revelation that Y/N had specifically asked Alicent to help her match a new fabric to the colours of House Hightower, had lit a spark of hope within him. Acting upon this hope, he had sent another raven to Oldtown, requesting that silks in the colours of House Hightower be sent to King's Landing, at once, to be made into dresses for both his sister and his lady. He hoped that she would not think him too forward or presumptuous in this but, hearing that it was her desire to match his House colours, he had immediately sought to facilitate it. A warm surge of affection towards her bloomed in his chest at her sweetness in wanting to align herself with the House of her two best friends. Both he and Alicent already considered her to be an indispensable part of their family and he was gladdened to think that she should do so too. He knew he still needed to tread carefully, considering that she had already expressed to him her clear distaste for marriage, but he began to believe that it was not the institution itself, nor love itself, that she was opposed to. Paying careful attention to her reaction to his attempts at conveying his feelings for her in his words and gestures, he had become increasingly hopeful that she might not reject his love.

Where she had not wanted to even hold his arm when they had first met, she now reached for his arm before he could even offer it out to her, always placing her delicate hand in his when he offered it out to her. Gradually, she had transitioned from sitting opposite him under the Weirwood tree, to sitting beside him, arms brushing as they talked until the sun began to set. His heart soared at the thought that she should not only be so comfortable around him but that she should also welcome his closeness. He felt her trust in him to be a priceless honour which he would not take foregranted, since it was so rare and so precious.

Feeling how precious her trust in him was, he was anxious not to overstep her boundaries, and so had resisted his, now, daily urge to get down on one knee before her and make a proposal of marriage to her. He was sure that such a brash action would not yet be welcome and he was determined to wait until such a time as he could do so with greater confidence in her receptivity to it. This was in spite of Alicent's frequent entreaties that he should try, desperate as she was to have her best friend become her sister by marriage. He had, however, made one slip up, allowing his feelings for his lady to overcome him in the moment. Rejoining his sister and his lady after yesterday's tourney, he had spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying the praises of both at his victories.

At his love's vociferous enumeration on his skill on the field, he had given into his feeling of elation, taking her hand to press a soft kiss to it. As he did so, he attempted to thank her, but stumbled on his words as he said, "I am glad to hear you are pleased with your champion's efforts. You have my sincere thanks, my lo-my lady." His eyes had widened in panic at nearly calling her his love out loud, but the next second hope brimmed forth in his heart as he noticed the faint blush on his lady's face and her intent gaze on him. It was almost as if...but it could not be, he was only imagining what he wished to see. For a moment it had seemed as if she had wanted him to say the word he had almost said in mistake, as if she were hanging upon his words. With a cough, Alicent came to her brother's aid to change the subject and the three continued to converse as usual. Something had shifted in the air, however, and it was felt by all three.

Gwayne could feel this shift as he escorted his sister and lady to their seats above the jousting yard, almost as if a veil had been lifted and his feelings for her no longer needed to be contained within him like a secret. He dared to hope that Y/N's tighter clutch on his arm that morning was a sign of her growing affection for him, though this did not stop him from teasing her.

Lowering his head so that his mouth was close to Y/N's ear, he spoke conspiratorially: "I hope, my Lady, that your grip upon my arm does not convey your alarm lest I should be slain in today's tourney. I assure you I am more stalwart than you believe me to be."

More than able to meet his teasing with her own sharp retorts, Y/N playfully knocked her shoulder against his, her lips upturned in a mischievous smile. "I think I have cautioned you against arrogance before, Gwayne. We wouldn't want your head to grow too large and for you to overbalance with the weight of it."

Alicent laughed in assent, "I have told you as much more times than I can count, Gwayne."

Gwayne's smile grew at his lady's wit and his sister's laughter, this not being the first time she had bested him in their verbal sparring. Far from being offended by her frequent jests at his expense, he viewed it as an encouraging sign of her trust in him and her confidence around him. He adopted a look of mock contrition, nodding in assent at her rebuke.

"Right you are, my Lady. I am assured, however, that your pretty wit will be able to shrink my head back down to size, should I grow too over-confident." As she broke out into laughter, he once again felt sure that he would never grow tired of the sound. It was the sweetest sound in the world to him; yet another reason why he was only too glad to be the target of her jests, if only to elicit that sound from her again.

Leading his sister and lady to their seats on the King's balcony, overlooking the jousting, he kissed both of their hands, retaining hold of Y/N's longer than was strictly necessary, as he held her gaze intently. Reluctantly releasing his hold on her hand, he returned to the jousting yard, lowering his helm over his face.

As the day wore on and the light of the retreating afternoon sun became hazy, Gwayne had won several victories to his name, having just unhorsed the same Lannister who had distressed his sister and lady only two evenings before. He could not but think the lickspittle had it coming to him and Gwayne was only too glad to have been given the opportunity of returning his offence to his sister and lady in kind. Raising his helm, following his victory, Gwayne looked up at his sister and lady, first nodding his head in the direction of the Lannister knight's crumpled form on the ground, before smirking and winking at them. He could not repress his own chuckle as he saw them break into laughter at his antics.

His mirth was sharply cut short, however, when Prince Daemon Targaryen announced his challenge to Gwayne, and was instead replaced with nerves. Daemon was more than twice his age and experienced in real battle. Gwayne had little hope of winning against him in the joust, but he determined to try, not wishing to alarm his sister or his lady if he were to fall. Looking up at his father for the first time since the tourney began, Otto Hightower merely nodded at him and redirected his gaze away. Gwayne well knew that Daemon had no love for his father and that it was his enmity towards Otto Hightower which had, no doubt, been his reason for selecting Gwayne as an opponent. Gwayne looked to his sister, distressed to see her look so alarmed and he tried to smile at her reassuringly, before lowering his helm and leading his horse into position. Time seemed to slow as Gwayne watched Daemon line up into position, his heart thundering in his chest. Nevertheless, he raised his lance with all the confidence he could muster and charged at Daemon with a level of determination Daemon had little been expecting from a knight of but ten and seven years.

Gwayne was met with uproarious applause when his lance knocked Daemon so forcefully in the shoulder as to nearly unseat him from his horse. Breathing a brief sigh of relief, Gwayne cantered his horse to the other end of the field, preparing to charge at his opponent, once again. A feeling of dread settled in his chest, his heart still beating frantically, as he prepared to meet Daemon's horse. He raised his lance, once again, aiming for Daemon's helmet as their horses ran to meet one another, only realizing at the last moment that Daemon had lowered his lance to take Gwayne's horse's legs out from under him. There was a brief feeling of falling as Gwayne was unseated from his horse, his helmet flying from his head with the impact. He hit the ground hard, his face skidding across the hard gravel, and he struggled for breath, winded by the fall. Taking deep breaths, he rolled onto his back and waited for the world to realign in his vision, still dizzy from the impact of his fall. His vision had refocused and his hearing returned, as he began to recover his senses, when he heard the sound of a high shriek and the sound of someone crying as if in great pain. Looking up to locate the source of the sound, he was horrified to see that it was his lady, his love that was crying into his sister's shoulder, struggling for breath herself. He promptly struggled to his feet, though he stumbled a few times in his attempt to get up in such haste. This did not stop him from running up to the balcony and calling to her, ignoring the outraged expression of his father at the display.

"Y/N, my Lady, I am well. Do not distress yourself"

She quickly looked back at him, her eyes flitting across his form to assess the damage. Gaining her attention, he held her gaze as he held his gloved hand to where his heart would be under his breastplate.

"I am well, I assure you." He nodded in assurance both to Y/N, who he was relieved to see was beginning to calm, and to Alicent, who looked equally distressed.

Gwayne stumbled to stand just below where the King was seated, bowing in acknowledgement of his defeat, before briskly walking away from the yard to rejoin his sister and his lady. Whilst her distress at his fall filled him with grateful affection at her concern for him, he was too focused on remedying both her and Alicent's distress to dwell on it. Whilst he revelled in the support of his sister and beloved at the training yard, he did not wish them to see violence which would give them cause for alarm. He was grateful, therefore, that Daemon's defeat of him had not been worse and that his injuries were only superficial. He barely gave them a second thought as he hurried to assure both his sister and his lady that he was well and that they should not distress themselves any further on his account. In his haste to run to the entrance of the steps leading to the Royal balcony, barely able to see as blood from a wound to his head trickled down into his eyes, he was startled to bump into the very lady he was trying so hard to get to. He held his arms out to hold her elbows and steady her, as she brought her hands up to his shoulders, brushing her hands over them, his arms and his chest, her eyes frantically assessing him for any injuries. Lost in the feeling of her touch, even if only over his armour, he was momentarily speechless.

"How badly are you hurt, Gwayne?" she frantically asked of him, in a tremulous voice which had him wishing to pull her into his chest and hold her to him.

He squeezed her forearms comfortingly, lowering his head to meet her eyes.

"I am perfectly well, my Lady. Please do not distress yourself any further. It looked much worse to you than it was. I barely felt the fall."

She looked up at him uncertainly, seemingly not convinced by his assurances. He stopped breathing for a moment when she raised a hand to gently brush his forehead with her knuckles.

"You're bleeding Gwayne. Come, I will tend to it."

The tender concern he heard in her voice left him feeling dazed, as if he had stepped into a dream, and he found himself leaning into her touch. As she retracted her hand, he wished she would touch his face again, feeling sure it would heal him of any malady. He rallied himself, however, reminding himself that it was his responsibility to assure her. He was mindful of her aversion to touch and would not exploit her concern for him in order to feel her touch again.

"I thank you for your gentle concern, my Lady, but there is no need. I will see to it forthwith, please rejoin Alicent and do not worry yourself any further. I shall be with you as soon as I can." He was surprised when she gripped onto his elbows to prevent him from leaving her side, and he remained where he stood, waiting with bated breath for her to speak.

"Just take slow, deep breaths Gwayne," She softly urged.

She met his gaze with a look of determination, her voice firm. "I will tend to them, Gwayne. It is no mere flesh wound." With that, she took his hand in hers, and began to lead him to the medical station behind the training grounds. By the time they had reached the tent and Y/N was gently pushing Gwayne's shoulders to help him sit down, he really was feeling quite faint from the force of the blow to his head and his subsequent exertions to reassure his lady before he had fully recovered from it. As his vision began to swim, he leant forward, closing his eyes tightly. To his surprise, he felt Y/N wrap an arm around his shoulders and tug him towards her so that his head fell onto her shoulders.

Following her instructions, he quickly regained his vision and began to feel better, although he was reluctant to remove his head from her shoulder. Just as he was resolving to do so, however, not wishing to exploit her tender caress for him, he was arrested in his movements by the unexpected pleasure of her caressing his head, pushing back hair that had become stuck to his face with blood. Placing her palm on his cheek, she looked into his eyes intently as she enquired, "Are you beginning to feel better, Gwayne? I need to clean the wound to your head."

"You needn't do that, my Lady, if it distresses you. I know you do not care for physical touch."

Becoming lost in her beautiful eyes and her tender touch, it was a few moments before Gwayne, uncharacteristically, stuttered out a response. "I am, my Lady, thanks to your kind ministrations." She smiled tenderly at him before she gently raised his head from her shoulder and pushed his shoulders back to lean him against a pillar. Gwayne lamented the loss of Y/N's touch, have felt sure that that would be enough to heal any injury he incurred, but she quickly returned to sit beside him eith a basin and cloth in hand. Raising her palm to his cheek once again, causing Gwayne's beast beat to accelerate, she dampened the cloth and began to dab gently at the wound on his head. Her eyes were fixed on his wound in intense concentration, as Gwayne looked at her in awe and adoration at her kindness and care for him. A pained expression overtaking her features, at what Gwayne assumed to be either her dislike of physical touch or the sight of the wound, he sought to remove any sense of obligation to assist him.

He reached up to take the cloth from her hand but was pleasantly surprised when his lady took his hand in hers instead.

She fixed her eyes on his with an intensity and determination he had not expected, as she spoke in a measured tone.

Stunned by her words, hope blooming within his heart, as he met her focused gaze, he once again found himself at a loss for words. At his silence and under his intense gaze, Y/N began to blush and to look timid, before she continued her ministrations. A look of concern settled onto Gwayne's features as he realised that his silence at his lady's brave profession may have made her feel awkward. He raised his own hand to enclose hers, which was dabbing the blood from his face, in his.

"I do not mind when it is with you."

He spoke gently and reverentially as he chased her eyes with his. "It gladdens my heart to hear you say so. I am honoured by your trust in me."

She smiled up at him, affectionately patting his jaw with her other hand. "I thought you were going to tease me for being so bold or say something untoward." Her tone was teasing but he detected a degree of real insecurity behind it.

He looked at her seriously as he said his next words, so that she could be assured of his sincerity. "I would not tease you about something so important. Your trust is something I consider to be sacred to me." She looked at him carefully, as of trying to gage his sincerity before seeming to find what she was looking for in his eyes and smiling at him. Seeing her look of concern as he was unable to conceal his wince of pain as she pressed on his wound, he sought to distract her.

Adopting a teasing tone, he smirked at her. "Although, my Lady, I must also assure you that you have my full permission to touch me whenever you want." At this, Y/N broke out into laughter, playfully hitting him on the arm.

"I knew it! You were being too well behaved. Remember, Ser, you are not so injured that I will take pity on you if do not behave."

Holding his hands up placatingly, unable to repress his smile at her scolding, he adopted a contrite tone. "My apologies, my Lady. I assure you of my full cooperation and good behaviour from this point forward." He lowered his head towards her in contrition and was pleased when his lady mussed up his hair before she continued her ministrations. As he watched her, an adorable look of concentration on her face, he soon forgot about his injuries, lost in the feeling of elation at being so close to his love.

Hours later, Gwayne, Alicent and Y/N were sitting companionably by the fire in Alicent's apartments, having congregated there so that they could head down to the tourney's closing banquet together. The fate of the Queen and the heir had yet to be announced and the King had departed half way through the tourney, but the banquet was still set to go ahead in his absence. When Gwayne had recovered enough to return to his chambers and change for the evening's festivities, Y/N had changed in Alicent's rooms into another deep forest green gown. As she moved, the silk folds of her gown rustled like the faint sound of leaves falling in a forest, and Gwayne found himself once again mesmerized by her enchanting beauty. Following her friends' glowing reaction to her matching their House colours at the first banquet, Y/N had slowly started to incorporate more green into her dress.

At first it was a green velvet ribbon in her hair, which Gwayne was quick to notice. Upon taking his arm when he met her at her apartments the day after the first banquet, She watched as his mouth upturned in a smile as he spotted the ribbon. She expected him to tease her, and was already preparing her own witty retorts, but he only lowered his head to meet her gaze, a soft expression she could not quite place in his eyes, as he said quietly, "You must allow me to tell you how becoming your hair looks today, my Lady". The tenderness she detected in his tone and the warmth of his gaze made her sure that there was a reason why green was her favoured colour. Her preference for the colour had begun with the affinity she felt with Alicent, the sister of her heart, who had kindly given her some of her own ribbons, delighting at her friend's wish to match her. As Y/N found herself falling in love with Gwayne, her preference for the colour only increased, and his gift of a Hightower heirloom made her sure that he encouraged her affinity with his House. Her heart warmed at the thought and she began to smile at Gwayne's compliment before her face fell and she turned away from him to stare directly ahead of her, a look of resignation on her face.

A look of confusion settled onto Gwayne's countenance at the sudden fall in his lady's expression, concerned that his comment on her sweet gesture, in wearing Alicent's ribbon in her hair, was the cause. He was a fool to have commented on it, perhaps he had embarrassed her, he rebuked himself. He could not know that the reason for his lady's sudden change in mood was her own self disparagement. Every time she found herself losing herself in fantasies of Gwayne professing his love for her and taking her to live with him and Alicent in Oldtown, she was brought back to reality by the thought that she could never accept such a proposal. She had convinced herself, after years of hearing her father's injunction that her only purpose was to marry and rear children, that marriage was a prison. Falling in love with Gwayne had convinced her that the opposite could be the case; she could imagine no greater happiness, no greater freedom from the viper's nest that was King's Landing, than marrying the man she loved. Nevertheless, a different problem presented itself. Her aversion to physical touch was still an insurmountable obstacle to marriage.

Whilst she now welcomed Gwayne's touch, her heart skipping a beat every time he took hold of her hand, or brushed his knee or shoulder with hers when they sat side by side, she would never be comfortable with the physical intimacy expected of a wife to a husband. The thought continued to make her feel physically uncomfortable to the point of distress, and she knew that this would not change, even if she loved Gwayne. Gwayne's respect of her physical boundaries and the gentleness of his manner towards her had made her tentatively hopeful that he might not mind such an absence of intimacy. They seemed to share an intimacy between their souls, as if an invisible string tethered their hearts together, surmounting any physical intimacy. Years of her insecurities being cultivated by the men around her like a poisonous plant, coiling itself around her heart, meant that she would quickly reject such an idea. She resolved that she could not ask Gwayne to make such a sacrifice: to content himself with a wife who's idea of intimacy could never go beyond a kiss; to embrace the impossibility of his ever having an heir. No, she could not ask it of him. And yet she could not force herself to remove herself from his presence, feeling a need to be close to him, his presence like a warm ray of sunlight to her.

Whilst Y/N puzzled over her conflicting feelings, Gwayne struggled to think of a way to show his lady that, far from mocking her, he encouraged her wearing his House colours. A look of determination crossed his own features as he spoke in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone. "Alicent has asked for me to send for some Hightower silks for her from Oldtown. I hope you do not think me too presumptuous, my lady, when I tell you that I asked for enough silk for two dresses to be sent to King's Landing." He hesitated, his own nerves getting the better of him, before he took a deep breath and continued hurriedly, 'I had hoped that, given your preference for the colour green, you would not object to the second dress being made for you. I know my sister did so enjoy seeing you match our House colours at the banquet...as did I." He said the last part in a soft, hazy voice as he became lost staring into her eyes, which looked back up at him in confusion.

A moment of silence passed, as his lady continued to look at him, several emotions flickering behind her eyes, as he feared he had gone too far in revealing his regard for her. Just as he was about to frantically apologise for his presumption, she said in a soft, hesitant voice, 'you mean for me to have the other dress?" At her tentative questioning, he smiled indulgently at her, assuming a teasing tone, "well it is most certainly not for me, although I am sure I would look good in it." He rejoiced as she broke into laughter at this, gripping tighter onto his arm to steady herself. "I don't know why you should laugh, my Lady. I am perfectly serious." At this, she only laughed harder and playfully jabbed her index finger to his chest. "Can you never be serious, Gwayne?" she laughed, her eyes sparkling. Gwayne's expression softened, as he met her gaze, "I assure you I can be most serious, when I care about something or someone." She stopped laughing at the emphasis he placed on that final word, meeting his gaze. "I am serious when I say that it is my most earnest wish that you should accept the dress. I do so love to see you wearing the colours of my House." Gwayne held his breath, awaiting her answer, feeling that he had gone further than he had previously dared in expressing his feelings for his love. His heartbeat began to soar when she placed her palm to his chest, where he was sure she could feel his heartbeat erratically. Looking up at him, she spoke in a soft voice to say, 'thank you, Gwayne." He sensed that there was more contained in her words, an understanding of what he meant by his gesture, and he struggled to contain his elation at the thought that she was beginning to entertain his suit for her love.

So it was that Y/N came to be wearing a gown made from silks in the colour of House Hightower, sent directly from Oldtown, as she and Alicent fawned over Gwayne's injuries from the tourney that day. From the smirk on his face, as Alicent held his hand and Y/N held a cold compress to his head, which, truth be told, had ceased to throb, it was clear that Gwayne was thoroughly enjoying their attentions. "Prince Daemon was a coward to challenge you, Gwayne. What quarrel did he have with you?" Alicent questioned through gritted teeth. Gwayne turned to his sister with a comforting gaze, "the quarrel was not with me, dear Sister. Do not take it so much to heart, although I am grateful to have such a fierce protector."

He smiled as Alicent laughed, before continuing in a more serious tone, "Daemon's quarrel is with our Lord, father. I was merely a means to an end." Alicent's eyes darkened at his words. "Our father is the coward then, to let you fight his battles for him. He does not care for us at all, only for his relentless scheming." Not wishing to turn Alicent against their father, since he was her only family in King's Landing, he patted her hand affectionately and said in a coaxing tone, "he does his best. I am sure he does all for the good of the family". Y/N spoke up now, unable to repress her anger. "If that is true, then why are you the one left injured and not your father, Gwayne? I saw your father watch on as you bravely met Daemon's challenge, a knight twice your age. It was cowardly for your father to urge you to accept his challenge." Gwayne was momentarily stunned at his lady's passionate defence of him, when he had watched his own father merely nod at him as he had rode forth to a fight he knew he could not win. Her care for his wellbeing had his heart swelling in affection for her.

Unable to contain it, he took her hand in his and raised it to his lips to press a kiss upon it, gazing adoringly into her eyes as he did so. "Thank you for your concern, my Lady." Not wishing to completely alter the hitherto light tone of the three's conversation, he playfully added, "at least I am assured that my two favourite ladies would avenge me were I to fall in battle. I am sure that two more formidable assailants could not be found. Daemon shall have to watch his steps when you two are abroad." Both ladies pushed him playfully in the shoulders at this and he fell back onto the seat as they all broke out into laughter.

When the three had entered the banquet hall, Y/N had walked arm in arm with Gwayne, allowing him to lead her to the Hightower table, when a rough hand grabbed her free elbow. She whipped round to face her father who was glowering at her and Gwayne. "Thank you for escorting my daughter, Ser Gwayne. I will take her off your hands now." Gwayne's expression darkened and she could see him open his mouth to protest, when her father rudely wrapped his hand around her elbow and pulled her away from Gwayne. Her father rarely took an interest in her daily movements, almost viewing her in the same manner as household furniture, and he had not protested when she had sat with the Hightowers before, so had expected no opposition this time. She looked over her shoulder to see Gwayne looking back at her, his expression full of concern as he made to follow her, before Alicent placed a hand on his chest to prevent him and shook her head at him. Y/N attempted to smile encouragingly at him to reassure him that she was fine, before quickly turning away from him.

Her father pulled out a seat beside him for her to sit and roughly pulled her down onto it. Lowering his head towards hers, he spoke through gritted teeth. "I do not ever want to see you behave in such an unbecoming manner as you behaved at today's tourney. Your concern for Ser Gwayne Hightower was entirely inappropriate and has given rise to unwelcome questions about the nature of your relationship with him. You will comport yourself in a manner becoming of a lady from now on and no longer be so open about your relationship to that family. Do you understand." She bowed her head at the hatred she heard lacing his words, responding in barely a whisper, "I understand, Ser."

Throughout the duration of the banquet, Y/N snatched fleeting glances at the Hightower every few minutes and would meet Gwayne's waiting eyes, each time. He seemed to be trying to communicate to her with his eyes his concern and his willingness to rescue her, if she were only to give a sign. Not wishing to spoil his and Alicent's evening and embarrassed that the Court should be whispering about her closeness to the Hightowers, she resolved to direct her gaze to the floor for the rest of the evening. She was startled from her thoughts by the unwelcome sound of Tyland Lannister's voice addressing her father: "Good evening, my Lord. May I have your permission to lead your daughter to the dance floor." Y/N's anger at being treated as if she were merely a part of the furniture, with no will of her own, as Tyland avoided her furious glare, was promptly replaced by panic as she took in his proposition. She inwardly prayed that her father would reject Tyland's offer, but her heart plummeted when he quickly acquiesced. "Well met, Ser Tyland. Of course. Y/N would be delighted, I am sure." She looked to her father in panic, "I would rather not, if you please, father. I am tired and do not wish to dance." Her father only glared at her in response, "do not offend Ser Tyland, foolish girl. You are not yet too tired to dance." Saying this, he roughly pulled her from her seat by the elbow, and pushed her towards Ser Tyland, who took her hand in his and practically pulled her towards the dance floor.

Her attempts to pull away from his grip proved ineffectual, and she began to really verge on panic when he pulled her into his embrace, wrapping an arm around her waist. She thought she heard a chair abrasively screech against flagstone across the hall, but was too concerned with removing herself from Ser Tyland's grip to care enough to see the source. Not caring what anyone else thought of her, she attempted to remove herself from his grip by pushing against his chest. He tightened his grip on her to a painful extent as he leered in her ear, "not so brave now, are you, without your Hightower protectors." Relief flooded Y/N as she heard the welcome sound of Gwayne's voice, even if it was shaking with anger, "she is not without her Hightower protector, you coward." Y/N whipped her head to the side to see Gwayne stood at her side, trembling in his anger towards the bastard he had seen manhandle his lady.

As soon as Gwayne had seen Ser Tyland begin pulling his love to the dance floor, he had risen from his seat in fury. Telling Alicent to return to her chambers, not wishing her to see his anger, he strode across the hall to defend his lady. Could her father and Ser Tyland not see the distress they were causing her, or did they simply not care? Either way, the sight of his love so frightened and ill-used filled him with irrepressible rage and concern, as he came to her defence. Gwayne promptly grabbed Ser Tyland by the collar and pulled him aggressively from Y/N, forcing him to release his hold on her. "How dare you touch a lady without her consent," Gwayne spoke through gritted teeth, as he assumed a protective stance between his lady and Ser Tyland. Tyland responded in a nonchalant drawl, "her consent matters little to me if her father agrees to it." Y/N looked up to see Gwayne's expression darken, before he turned to her and gently took hold of her elbow to move her back a few paces, "pardon me, my lady." Y/N wondered what he meant by his actions, before he whipped round and struck Ser Tyland with such force he hit the floor. Y/N watched in shock as Gwayne withdrew his sword, pointing it towards Ser Tyland's chest, as he continued to lie on the floor.

She could hear the shocked gasps of the guests around the room at Gwayne's actions, but he seemed heedless to them, as he spoke low and dangerously to Tyland: "Say anything so ungallant of my Lady again, Ser, and I shall cut you from nose to navel." As he said this, he indicated with his sword the line which he threatened to cut, as Ser Tyland looked up at him in fear. When Tyland did not respond, and made no move to stand, Gwayne sheathed his sword and gently took hold of his lady's arm, leading her towards the door. With a feather light touch, he led her from the hall, not stopping until they were far from the banquet hall.

When he was sure that he had brought them far enough away from the hall, he stopped at the bottom of a staircase. He removed his hand from his lady's elbow, instead hovered his hands underneath her elbows, as if he wanted to hold her but didn't know if it would be welcomed. "I am sorry to have had to resort to such violence in your presence, my Lady. Are you well?" His heart constricted painfully in his chest as he saw his love attempt to nod in affirmation, before her lip wobbled and her eyes filled with tears. He hesitated, not knowing how to comfort her, when she leant her head forward to place it against his chest. He stood, frozen in place, unsure of how to respond, as to whether his touch would be welcomed, given what she had just experienced. He could no longer restrain himself from holding her, however, when he heard her begin to cry quietly into his chest. He tentatively placed his arms around her in a light embrace, ready to remove them if his actions only caused her further alarm. When his lady brought her hands up to curl them around the fabric of his shirt, he wrapped his arms more securely around her, softly stroking her hair as he whispered soft assurances. "It's alright, you are safe now. No one will touch you without your consent again, I promise you that."

He forced himself to repress his anger at her father for allowing such a brute to insult his daughter in such a manner, not wishing for his already frightened lady to be further distressed by his anger or believe herself to be the cause. His focus now was entirely on comforting her, as he continued to hold her in his arms until her sniffling faded. He heard her speak against his chest, though her voice was muffled by the fabric of his tunic: "thank you for protecting me Gwayne." Placing his head lightly upon hers, he spoke quietly and determinedly, "you can always be assured of my protection, my Lady." Trying to amuse her, he added in a light tone, "just point to the offensive individual and I will dispatch them forthwith." She laughed quietly into his chest but it still sounded more like a sob, and he stroked her hair gently. "May I walk you back to your chambers, my Lady, or would you prefer to wait for Alicent to join us. I am sure she would be only too pleased if you would spend the night in her room."

He waited for his lady to decide, inwardly hoping that she would decide on the latter course, unwilling to return her to the man who had been the cause of her distress. At least if she was with Alicent, he would be close by, should either of them need him. She would know that Gwayne would protect them both and he hoped it would make her feel safe and give her comfort. After a brief moment of hesitation, his lady spoke in a tremulous voice, which pulled at his heart strings, "I would prefer to wait for Alicent and spend the night with her, if it is not too much trouble." He smiled encouragingly at her, lightly brushing her arm with his hand, "it is no trouble at all. We shall rejoin Alicent and return to her chambers forthwith." Saying this, he held his arm up for her to take, and they began to make their way towards the Hightower apartments, where Gwayne knew Alicent had headed to, as soon as he had asked her to. A sense of relief flooded him, as he walked with his lady's hand placed on his arm, to know that he would not have to place her in harm's way again that evening. At the same time, he was filled with a renewed sense of determination to win her heart to him as his lady wife, and as quickly as possible. He could not rest if he knew she was still living under the authority of a man who was so careless of her comfort, even if he was her father. He well knew how little care his own father had for either himself or his sister, who he was equally anxious to remove from King's Landing. He resolved that he would find a way to protect both his love and his sister from the vipers both within the Court and their own families.

[artdcnaldson]

and when we move on (we dont) and get a new boyfriend and get engaged all within the span of six months and suddenly art finds himself at your engagement party and you look happy and he thinks maybe he imagined his importance to you - maybe he had it wrong and he was the fleeting obsession. how else are you able to move on so quickly? he's miserable but he still plucks up the courage to come congratulate you even if he doesn't mean a word of it. says, "you look beautiful - honestly." just because, well you do.

and its then that your mask slips - you look like art punched you - not those slaps you'd both traded in the past - but like he'd genuinely punched you in the gut. wounded ane pained like he'd just said the most awful thing in the world to you. and your hands tremble when you hand him your champagne glass and mumble "im sorry - excuse me -"

you have to be somewhere alone. suddenly constricted and panting and you find and alcove to lean against and you feel tears burn your eyes and even worse still, a presence at your back - "hey, what -" because of course its him, of course it is. "what's wrong - what did i say -"

you could laugh. you could laugh if a sob wasn't cut off in your throat. you hate him. on your engagement day. the nerve to say you were beautiful. with those genuine eyes and soft expression - like he meant it. like he always thought you were.

he breaks your heart and and you try to move on - you let yourself drown in the next man that shows you attention because arts words follow you everywhere - how you're not the marriage type - well, your fiance wanted you. he wanted you and that had to be enough because if you remained alone and unwanted you think you'd die from the pain of it -

so for him to say something like that now - all of the sudden -

"why do you hate me? i left you alone, didn't i? patricks still your friend. you have everything you wanted - I just want to move on, art. I just want to be wanted - why are you here?"

GODDDDD your mind <3

You know it’s sudden— everyone knows it’s sudden. But you’re the only one who knows why you rushed into it so intensely. Why, after six months with someone, you agreed to marry someone who you hardly even knew.

You knew the basics— Charlie wanted to be a college professor. His mother was filthy fucking rich, old money, and she liked that you came from an affluent background. He enjoyed skiing, and watching tennis, and he did rowing in high school. He was allergic to cats. He liked ordering raw oysters and slurping them down embarrassingly loud at restaurants. He never ordered for you, always paid the bill, never pushed you past a heavy makeout session on the couch.

Because you couldn’t go past that anymore. You couldn’t be easy, couldn’t give it up. You had to be the type of girl someone would marry, you had to be girlfriend material, and wife material, and mother material.

Charlie wanted to get married, wanted a big family, and you checked those boxes for him. You’d never have to want for anything, he’d pamper you and keep you spoiled like you were used to. He was strawberry blonde like Art, but his smile was more refined and practiced, and you wish it wasn’t. When he proposed you said yes, and cried tears that were supposed to be happy, but how could you know for sure?

Art shows up to the engagement party as Patrick’s plus one, and you feel dizzy. But you have to be normal— you can’t give anything away. You just… try to avoid him. When he starts gravitating your way, you find an excuse to talk to someone else, or make your way into the kitchen for a fresh drink. Anything to stay away, because you can’t fucking see him. You can’t do that right now, or ever.

But of course he finds a way— he’s too polite or maybe he’s just too cruel to leave the party without offering a congratulations. You’re cornered like prey, grip so tight on the stem of your champagne flute that you’re worried it’ll snap.

And he doesn’t say congratulations. He just looks at you with a genuine, completely earnest smile and says, “You look really beautiful. He’s really lucky.”

You feel your heart seize in your chest, like someone’s grabbed it and squeezed viciously. The corners of your mouth twitch downwards, but you fight it and bring a polite, practiced smile to your lips. “Could you excuse me for a second?”

He looks confused as you put your glass in his hand, as you close his fingers around it so he doesn’t drop the expensive crystalware. As soon as you’re sure he has it, you’re weaving through the many guests to find solitude. Most of them are Charlie’s friends, few are your acquaintances— people that would just as soon pray on your downfall as they would offer a sweet congratulations.

You slip into the hallway feeling suffocated, drawing quick breaths through your nose until you tuck yourself away in a nicely tucked away alcove and take a slow, steadying breath.

But Art lingers at the edge of your vision, and you want to just cry and cry as he gets closer, as he puts a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, what…” his brow furrows, he searches your face for some sort of clue, something to help him understand. “What’s wrong? What did I say?”

The noise you let out is strangled, almost animal. You look at him and see that he means it, he doesn’t fucking know, he doesn’t understand. Maybe he just can’t.

“I can’t believe you’re—“ your voice cracks and you look away from him. You can’t stand to see that kicked puppy expression, the earnest concern. You can’t fucking look at it. “And after everything?”

Charlie is a good man. Charlie makes you happy, or he can one day, with time and distance. And he sees you as someone he wants to spend his life with. Isn’t that enough? Why is Art trying to spoil it for you when the alternative is proving him right? That would kill you. You’d rather just die.

“I was just…” he trails off, turns your face toward him with two fingers against your chin. The softest he’s ever touched you, and it feels so foreign and wrong that it shatters something inside that you thought you’d fully repaired. “I thought you’d want to know. That I still think about you, that I want you to be happy.”

Tears spill down your cheek, inky and black from your mascara. “You’re so fucking mean, Art.” Your voice is weak as you look at him. He drops his hand back to your side, but stays close, so close you’re reminded of how intoxicating his presence can be. “Why are you doing this to me? Huh? I did what you asked and I left you alone. And I didn’t tell Patrick, because I didn’t want to hurt you. Why isn’t that enough? Why are you trying to spoil this for me?”

Confusion and hurt flashes across his features. Is that what you thought he wanted? For you to really leave him alone? He didn’t want that, it nearly fucking killed him. He spent the end of senior year tanking in tournaments, he hardly slept.

Patrick had told you about Art floundering, and it made you sick. You’d actually laid in bed crying about it, wracked with guilt. You thought it was all because of you, because you’d distracted him and ruined him.

It felt like he was there only to remind you that you were poison. That you would do the same to the sweet boy just through a set of double doors as you had done to him. But you wouldn’t. You’d never do that again.

“Charlie wants me. I’ve been his girlfriend for only a few months and he already wants to marry me,” your wavers pathetically as you think back to what Art had said back home. The prospect that he could be right was fucking terrifying, but you’d left that girl behind. “He could be the only one who wants me like this. So why are you trying to show up to my engagement party and look at me like you— like—“

You can’t say it, but he knows. He looks at you and he knows. You wince as he sinks to his knees in front of you, tears filling your eyes. Because his hands slide up your calves, settle on the back of your thighs.

He kisses your knee, softly, reverently, looks up at you with soft, desperate eyes. You sigh softly as his lips trail up, skimming along your soft thighs. You lean back, pressing against the wall, feeling yourself melt for him.

“Art,” you gasp weakly. “You can’t. We— we can’t.” You know you’re speaking the truth, but your words and your actions aren’t aligned. Your fingers card into his hair, and your entire body lights up when you finally touch him again.

It aches in your chest— longing and hurt and love and hatred. You never felt as much as you do with him. Charlie doesn’t light up that part of you the way Art does. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe it needs to be hidden away, cut off like a rotting limb.

His lips press to the spot just beneath your hem, and he peers up at you. “Let me.”

Not a question. A plea. Let him.

Let him what? Love you? Touch you? Let him eat you out in the shadows of a hotel hallway? Let him back in? Let him have you? Let him be yours to worship again?

“Okay,” your voice is barely above a whisper. “Okay.” You repeat, just to make sure you’re certain. Of what, you don’t know.

His head slips beneath the skirt of your dress, and you moan softly at the press of his lips over your panties. Soft, sweet kisses over the fabric that make you open up for him. You feel need dripping from your center, longing.

You haven’t been touched since him— not that he’d ever actually tried. But having him touch you, kiss you… it feels like ice melting.

He tugs your panties to the side, mouths at your cunt like he’s kissing it. Like he’s kissing you. You moan softly, let your head knock against the wall.

“Art—“ you practically sob. His tongue parts you, laps at you from your dripping entrance to your clit. He moans and nuzzles closer, lets his nose rub against your clit as he presses his tongue inside of you. He squeezes at your thighs, dimples the plush flesh there.

You’re so sensitive— it’s a combination of months of barely even touching yourself, of missing him, of craving him. You’re dripping onto his tongue, moaning softly. You can’t manage more than soft gasps of his name, pleas for more— Art Art Art Art Art.

He draws your orgasm out easily, like it belongs to him. Laps at your release, works you through it until your knees are shaking. He pulls back, mouth glistening with your release.

He stays on his knees, presses another soft kiss to your thighs, and another, over and over again. Soft, reverent, tender. He looks up at you so earnestly, so desperately, that you feel a sob stick in your throat.

“I need to get back,” you say suddenly, when the ache in your chest is too much to bear. “Charlie’s probably wondering… you know— I’ve been gone too long.”

“Charlie?” Art asks, his voice weak, pathetic. He’s still looking up at you from his knees, and he has to scramble up when you start walking towards the women’s bathroom to tidy your makeup. “Why are you doing this?“

He could be asking anything. You answer what you think he needs to hear, what h ended a to know. “He’s going to be a good husband, Art. He’s always sweet, and he’s never… he doesn’t just see me like— like what you see.” You take a steadying breath. “What you said to me back home was true, I know that now. But I can’t just be alone. It’ll kill me.”

You pause, let your lip twitch into a sad smile. “Just please leave me alone, Art.”

You slip into the bathroom, he hears you click the door locked so you can’t follow. Not like last time. When he returns to the party, he drinks three more glasses of champagne. He leaves before Charlie gives a toast to you, to your impending marriage. He can’t fucking stomach it.

[winters-rose-daughterofcain]

Let Penelope be a loser guys come one. "Why was she asking him to kiss her?" "Why was she the desperate one?" "Why didn't she make him work for it-" Because she likes him!!!!

Because pretty much any time not spent around Colin in episode 1&2 she's unhappy. Because he was being kind and she was relaxing around him and enjoying herself and doing well talking to people, because she's liked this boy for years and never truly gave up on him even when everything practical told her too. Because she was finally dressing the way she wanted and making a plan to get away from her family and it was actually working, she was genuinely desirable and a viable option, for once everything is going right and she also has Colin even if not the way the romantic side of her would hope, and then it all goes to absolute shit.

Suddenly she's an embarrassment and unwanted and the chance of marriage or escape or freedom has gone from slim to none, suddenly any respect or desirability she had is gone, and all because of the connection that has made her the most happy, all because people found out about Colin and his kindness and suddenly it all feels silly and desperate and like the childish dream of a 'sad, stupid girl'. Suddenly everything is ruined and she is once again a laughing stock. And she then had to go home and write about it, putting the nail in her own fucking coffin.

Because she is miserable and lonely and a young girl yearning to be loved. Because all of a sudden Colin is in her garden bribing her maid to get her alone, suddenly she's reminded that someone dose care, someone dose want her, someone dose hear and listen to her, someone still see's her as worthy of love even if (as she thinks) there is no possible way it could be the same kind. And that someone is the kind, handsome boy she's liked since she was a child. Someone she trusts, and it gave her just enough hope to try.

She asks him to kiss her because she wanted that one moment, that one memory of love and passion and intimacy with the boy she loves after having any hope of more from anyone completely dashed. She never wanted or asked Colin to grovel or beg, she just wanted an apology and she got one it literally didn't need to be more than that. He was on his knees in that damn carriage professing his love and need of her, dreaming of kissing her in a garden literally less then twelve hours after this and interrupting her dances to stop a proposal, he's a fucking loser (said with love), they both are. Let the girl ask for a kiss when she's yearning and upset and in love with her close friend god damn it.

Edit: this was like half a joke um but yeah more serious expansion here lol.

[circeyoru]

Hi.. Can I ask for yandere alastor with the reader who owns his soul, ( more questions because I'm curious about this scenario )....

What would it be like if the reader, through guilt, gave her soul to Alastor, like it would be fair for the reader to give her soul to Alastor, since he gave his soul to the reader ( would Alastor see this as a distorted marriage proposal? as a declaration of love, distorted? )

What would it be like if the others at the hotel found out about this relationship between Alastor and reader? What would it be like if there were more than 1 yandere, what would it be like if vox or lucifer slowly became yanderes for the reader, what would happen?

To those that have no idea what this is talking about, check out {Unwanted Soul}

I am not kidding when I say there's a back-to-back request on the first question. So I had to answer in the other request cause this second question's answer's gonna be a long one

For the 2nd question.

Part 1. Basically, Charlie and the other's reaction to finding out about Alastor and Reader's relationship, including the soul-owning thing (but not the details like limited power, or you healing Alastor)

As a baseline, they all unanimously agreed that Alastor was the one completely and utterly obsessed with you, and you just accepted it and made the best of the situation. Niffty: She doesn't see an issue. Alastor had mentioned you to her beforehand. She was also the one to fix up your room before you moved in. She encourages and even asks for your secret. How did you get bad boy Alastor to commit to you? She wants some of the action too. (you told Alastor to keep Niffty away from you whenever she's in that crazy zone, but then you got used it to, somewhat) Husk: He thought he could use it to his advantage. You were the timid and quiet type. So he actually tried to get your sympathy to his situation, Alastor was being threatening, Alastor was being mean. Haha, no go. Because you didn't care. He picked up that your attention and interest is very limited and hard to gain, Alastor taking years to do so even. Now Husk gave up on trying to get you to help his situation, but when he saw Alastor acting that docile to you and you not using your powers against Alastor? He's envious that you weren't the one to hold his soul Angel: Shocked. 100% shocked that Alastor willingly given his soul to a weaker demon (he never saw you battling Adam or your powers and abilities in action). Similar to Husk, he's actually envious that you didn't do anything against Alastor's will, even when you have his soul in the palm of your hands. He saw that Alastor was as free as a bird, really. He also wanted that freedom that Alastor had and the bond you two shared. He's very confused as to why Alastor was that enamoured with you though, you weren't anything special (don't let Alastor hear that). He spoke to you since about it and you agreed without missing a beat. Yeah, he's so confused Vaggie: A bit of Husk and Angel's reaction. She's shocked that you own Alastor's soul and have his affection, confused that Alastor gave his soul to you and acts lovey-dovey with you, and grateful that you were the one to have Alastor's soul. While it was a bit to take in, knowing that you were less inclined to violence and destruction, you weren't a threat to the hotel or Charlie. So that was good. Still, she is aware that your emotions can flip easily and Alastor will act on them faster than you'd stop him or you just won't. She knows you're a landmine and she needs to be careful Charlie: Very very supportive. Her brain literally skipped the whole soul-owning bit. Alastor loves you a lot and you love Alastor in your own unique way. It's like her and Vaggie! She's so happy to have another couple in the hotel. She'd try arranging double dates, if that's possible. Alastor's 100% for it since he gets to spend time with you, but knows you'd rather not have other strangers (Charlie and Vaggie) roped into your hobby and interest. She tries to give relationship advice and ask for some from you and Alastor. The first few times, you let her, but then you got annoyed with it. It wasn't established that you and Alastor were a couple and he didn't mind, with that label also coming out of Charlie's mouth. You were quick to avoid her whenever you wandered around the hotel. Alastor steps in and strictly warns Charlie not to try helping again Lucifer: Very hesitant to accept it, but lets his skeptism go when he sees you were happy and fine with the situation. He's amazed that you got Alastor to give his soul to you that easily, but he's also scared that you might have gotten into deep sh*t with you connection with Alastor. He keeps an eye out for you, sometimes checking in with you too

Part 2. What if there's more yanderes for Reader?

Are you trying to exhaust yourself? Yanderes you mentioned, Lucifer and Vox crave attention and you don't exactly give a lot. Remember, you're a shut-in and you can do without the extra presence around you. Since Alastor is more than enough (he's so happy to hear that). Needless to say, you avoid a repeat of what happened to Alastor. You read and watch anime, you know the signs. The reason why Alastor was let into your life was because he was the one giving you attention and didn't hinder you, plus he grew on you. Another thing, time. It took Alastor 7 years and you still sent him away to the hotel to work for some minor interest of yours. You think there can just be a new yandere? No, no. You're happy to prove that you were no pushover. Alastor is essentially under your command and he will happily take your orders and fulfil them beyond your expectations. So Vox is trying to spy on you? "Cut off his power, Alastor." Yeah, the Vee's entire area was out of electricity for a good few days. Lucifer's breaking into your room? "Alastor, set up a barrier." You're in some form of shadow realm, curtsy of Alastor's power, with all you ever need. You are the type to stick to one extreme and have sides as 'back-up', you can have Lucifer as a friend, but never a yandere since you can't handle it. As for Vox? You don't even know him. At least with Lucifer, you once worked for him. Plus Vox is Alastor's rivial, right? Let them fight, you're sure Alastor can handle it even with his powers limited.

[kckt88]

A Dragon's Heart II

Summary:

Daemons plan to get rid of Borros has an unexpected concequence, and Aemond despairs when Viserra moves to Dragonstone.

Warning(s): Angst, Arranged/Unwanted Marriage, Swearing, Family Drama, Dragons, Infidelity, Uncle/Niece Incest, Allusion to Smut, Attempted Blackmail, Conspiracy, Revelations, Character Death.

AEMOND x O.C

Word Count: 7,600

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0

Maester Gerardys had just finished his examination, looking solemn as he spoke. "The Princess should not travel. The sickness she suffers from has made her a little frail, and any journey could endanger her and the child. She must remain here to rest”.

Rhaenyra, seated on the edge of Viserra’s bed, holding her daughter’s hand tightly, nodded. "Thank you, Maester Gerardys. That will be all."

The Maester bowed and quietly exited the room, leaving an uneasy silence between Borros and the Queen.

Rhaenyra turned her gaze to Borros, her voice firm but calm. "I will not allow my daughter or grandchild to come to harm. Viserra will stay here, in the Red Keep, until she is well”

Borros’ jaw tightened, his frustration evident. He wanted to argue, to demand his wife’s return to Storm's End, but there was no defying Rhaenyra’s authority.

With a begrudging sigh, he relented. "Very well. But if Viserra cannot come with me, I will take Rhaegar to Storm’s End and when she is well enough, she can join us."

Viserra’s hand gripped Rhaenyra’s a little tighter, as if the very suggestion filled her with dread. Rhaenyra squeezed back reassuringly, her gaze hardening as she rose to her feet.

"Rhaegar will stay with his mother in the Red Keep," she said sharply. "He is my grandson and the future heir to the Iron Throne. Storm's End is not his home and taking him away from his mother at such a young age will only harm the boy. If you wish to return to Storm's End so badly, you may do so-alone."

Borros’ face darkened at her words. "He’s my son. He should be raised at Storm’s End, not coddled in the Red Keep-"

"You have no right to tear him from his mother’s side," Rhaenyra interrupted coldly. "Do not forget where you are. You would do well to remember your place."

The tension in the room rose further, but Borros quickly bit back his anger. He knew he was treading dangerous ground.

Still, he pressed on, albeit with a new angle. "What of the marriage proposal between Floris and Prince Aemond?”

Rhaenyra’s eyes flashed with fury. "There will be no marriage. Aemond has declined the match, he has no interest in taking a wife"

Borros’ face twisted in anger. "-He was willing to take a wife when he came to Storm’s End offering his hand in marriage in exchange for support for his brother, King Aegon—" His voice boomed through the room, shaking with indignation.

"How dare speak of that treason in my presence?" hissed Rhaenyra her voice icy with rage. "-If you ever bring that up again. I will have you executed-now I suggest you get out of my sight and return to Storms End, immediately”

Borros stiffened, his fists clenched. But Rhaenyra’s unwavering stare left no room for argument. He bowed stiffly, though it was clear he was seething beneath the surface.

"As you command, Your Grace," he muttered through gritted teeth.

Without another word, Borros turned and stormed from the room, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall.

As the door closed, Rhaenyra let out a breath, her gaze softening as she looked down at her daughter.

"Rest, my love," she whispered, brushing Viserra's silver hair from her damp forehead. "I will not let him take you or Rhaegar from here."

The flickering candlelight in Viserra’s chambers cast soft shadows across the room as Aemond quietly slipped through the secret entrance, closing it behind him with practiced stealth.

He moved silently, removing his boots and setting them carefully aside. As he approached the bed, his gaze softened at the sight of Viserra lying still beneath the covers.

Her breathing was even, her pale face peaceful in sleep, his heart ached at the sight of her so sick, yet still undeniably beautiful.

Aemond carefully lowered himself onto the bed beside her, taking care not to disturb her rest. He lay close, his body warm next to hers, and watched the steady rise and fall of her chest.

His hand rested lightly on her stomach, where their child grew. The thought filled him with both wonder and possessive pride. This was the second time she carried a babe of his blood.

His gaze shifted to the half-eaten bowl of broth on the bedside table. Surely, she should be eating more.

She hadn’t been this sick when she was carrying Rhaegar—was it because this was her second pregnancy, or perhaps something else?

He thought back to Helaena and how sick she had been when carrying the twins.

Could it be possible that Viserra carried more than one babe?

Regardless, Aemond couldn’t help but marvel at the quiet strength of her body, this woman who endured so much and still carried on.

The idea that it was his seed that had taken root in her, that a life—another life—grew because of the love they shared, stirred something deep within him.

It was something primal, a possessive need to protect, to cherish her, and to ensure their future together.

Leaning down, he pressed a soft, reverent kiss to her stomach, his lips barely brushing the fabric of her nightgown. This was his family—Viserra, Rhaegar, and now this babe. His family, born of love and bound by blood.

As if sensing his presence, Viserra stirred slightly in her sleep. Aemond carefully manoeuvred her into his arms, pulling her closer to him.

She sighed contentedly, her body instinctively curling against his as she pressed her face into his chest. He held her gently, stroking her hair with tender fingers, his chin resting atop her head.

He closed his eye, listening to the quiet sounds of the night, the crackling of the fire in the hearth, and the steady heartbeat of the woman he loved more than anything in this world.

For now, in this stolen moment, they were together, and that was all that mattered.

A couple of days later, Aemond sat in his chambers, the amber glow of the fire casting long shadows across the stone walls.

He swirled the cup of wine in his hand, lost in thought, while Aegon sprawled out lazily in a chair opposite him, already halfway through his third cup of wine.

Aegon chuckled, leaning forward slightly, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Floris Baratheon, huh?" He laughed again, louder this time. "How desperate does a lady need to be? If she really wanted to ride the dragon so badly, I would’ve offered my own services”

Aemond rolled his eye, and without missing a beat, he kicked Aegon sharply in the shin. "You’ve got a wife, remember? You might want to consider being a bit more subtle in your dishonour."

Aegon scoffed, rubbing his leg where Aemond had kicked him. "Subtle? Since when have I ever been subtle? Besides, you’re one to talk." He smirked, raising his cup to his lips before pointing it at Aemond. "The number of ladies you’ve taken to bed over the years-you weren’t exactly a pious septon yourself."

Aemond’s expression didn’t change, but he shook his head slightly. "I’ve only taken Viserra to my bed in the last four years," he said calmly, his gaze fixed on the wine in his cup.

Aegon snorted. "I wasn’t talking about now, brother. I was talking about before that. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your fondness for older widows. Wasn't exactly the best kept secret around the Keep." He waggled his eyebrows and leaned back in his chair with a smug grin.

“There weren’t that many-” muttered Aemond.

“How many? And I’ll know if your lying”

“Four, and before you ask no I wasn’t seeing them at the same time. I went with one a couple of times and then ended it before I went with another” replied Aemond.

“Where’s the fun in that?” asked Aegon.

“Aegon-” muttered Aemond, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the wooden chair arm.

Aegon wrinkled his nose in mock disgust. “Older ladies though? Really, brother?” His face contorted in amusement as he shook his head, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

Aemond frowned, a touch defensive. "They weren’t that old," he said, his tone flat.

Aegon raised an eyebrow, leaning in as if waiting for a confession. "Go on then, how old was the oldest one you laid with?"

Aemond shrugged, as though it didn’t matter. "I don’t know-around thirty?"

Aegon sniggered, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. "Thirty?”

Aemond rolled his eye but didn’t rise to the bait. "I wasn’t with them for pleasure" he said matter-of-factly. "I was with them to learn—to know how to please a woman."

Aegon’s grin widened, eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, and did you learn anything?"

Aemond’s lips curled into a faint smirk. "Viserra seems pleased well enough."

That sent Aegon into a fit of raucous laughter, "Oh, gods, I needed that. And here you are, all high and mighty, calling me out for my dishonour!" He pointed a finger at Aemond, still grinning. "Meanwhile, you’re literally sleeping with another man’s wife and siring bastards upon her"

“Remind me again how many bastards of yours are running around the streets of silk?”

“Not that many-I don’t think” replied Aegon with a shrug.

Aemond’s gaze narrowed. "Viserra may be Borros’ wife in the eyes of the Seven," he snapped, the edge in his voice unmistakable, "But in the traditions of Old Valyria, she’s mine."

He lifted his hand, showing Aegon the faded scar on his palm, the mark of his and Viserra’s blood oath.

Aegon looked at the scar for a moment, then his face split into a wide grin before he burst out laughing again, harder than before. "Gods, if Mother knew—" He laughed even harder, clutching his sides. "She’d have a bloody heart attack."

Aemond’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond, letting Aegon’s laughter echo in the room.

Aegon finally began to calm down, his laughter subsiding as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

The room fell into a brief silence, the tension between the brothers softening as Aegon sighed deeply. His eyes turned serious as he leaned back in his chair, a shadow of something uncharacteristically solemn crossing his face.

“In all seriousness, Aemond-I envy you,” Aegon admitted quietly, surprising his brother.

Aemond raised an eyebrow, clearly sceptical. “Why?”

Aegon took another sip of wine, staring down into the cup as if the answer could be found at the bottom.

“Because you have someone who loves you. Someone willing to defy tradition and risk everything, just to be with you. I see the way Viserra looks at you—like you’re the only man in the world. I wish I had someone who looked at me like that.”

Aemond blinked, caught off guard by the rare moment of vulnerability from his brother. He paused for a moment before speaking, his tone calm but firm.

“Maybe if you put half as much effort into your marriage as you do into drinking and whoring, Helaena might look at you the way you want.”

Aegon shook his head sadly, his gaze distant. “I don’t mean to hurt her,” he admitted. “But I never wanted her as a wife. She’s my sister, and that’s all she’ll ever be to me. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t-see her any other way.”

Aemond remained silent for a moment, absorbing his brother’s words. Aegon was flawed, broken in many ways, but in this moment, Aemond could sense the depth of his regret.

"You’re lucky," Aegon continued, his voice soft and tinged with something close to longing. "You’ve found someone who’s willing to risk it all. Someone who loves you enough to defy everything that’s expected of her. Don’t take that for granted, brother."

Aemond glanced down, his hand unconsciously brushing the faded scar on his palm. His thoughts drifted to Viserra—the way she had given herself to him fully, despite the dangers and despite the world that tried to keep them apart.

“I know,” Aemond said quietly, his voice filled with a sense of conviction. "Believe me, I know how lucky I am."

Aegon offered him a weak smile, raising his cup in a half-hearted toast. “Then here’s to us. To our mess of a family, and to the ones who stand by us despite it all.”

Aemond clinked his cup with Aegon’s, though his thoughts were already far away, with Viserra, the woman who had become his everything.

Meanwhile, the carriage rumbled through the depths of the Kingswood, its wheels crunching over fallen leaves and twigs.

Inside, Borros sat across from his daughter, Floris, his expression darkened with disappointment. His hopes for a marriage between her and Prince Aemond had been dashed.

He glanced at Floris, frustration evident in his tone as he asked, "Did you do as I suggested? Did you wait for the Prince in his chambers?"

Borros had hoped that if Aemond succumbed to Floris and bedded her, then the Prince could be forced into the marriage, as a way to atone for defiling a maiden.

Floris nodded; her gaze downcast. "I did, Father, but he would not have me."

Borros scoffed, disbelief lacing his voice. "What man in his right mind would refuse to bed such a beautiful maid as my daughter?" His brow furrowed, searching her face for answers.

Floris muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible. "A man whose heart belongs to his whore of a niece-"

Borros's ears perked up, his sharp hearing catching the faint whisper. "What did you just say?" he demanded, leaning forward. "Aemond’s niece? You speak of my wife."

Floris froze, realizing her slip. She shook her head, fear flickering in her eyes. "It’s nothing, Father."

Borros wasn’t convinced. His eyes narrowed as he pressed her further, suspicion gnawing at him. "If you know something, you need to tell me. Now."

Floris hesitated, her heart pounding. She knew the danger of what she was about to reveal, but the weight of the secret was too much to bear. "Aemond, h-he threatened to kill me if I told anyone," she confessed, her voice trembling.

Borros’s anger flared at the thought of anyone threatening his daughter. "Told anyone what? Speak, Floris!"

Tears welled in Floris’s eyes as she finally let the truth spill out. "Viserra and Aemond, they’ve been having an affair. Rhaegar isn’t your son. He’s Aemond’s."

For a moment, Borros stared at her in stunned silence, refusing to believe what he had just heard. "You lie," he growled, shaking his head. "Rhaegar is my son"

Floris's voice grew firmer, desperation giving her courage. "Open your eyes, Father. The boy looks nothing like you. Haven’t you ever noticed how Aemond is always around him, more so than anyone else? How the boy clings to him? It’s because he’s Rhaegar’s true father, not you."

Borros’s face twisted with rage and disbelief. He didn’t want to accept it, but the pieces began to fall into place.

His heart pounded as he wrestled with the horrifying realization. "No. Rhaegar is my son," he insisted, but his voice wavered.

Floris leaned forward, her eyes pleading. "No, he’s not and neither is that babe she carries. Viserra has played you for a fool, she's even married to Aemond, as part of some Valyrian ritual-he told me himself"

Before Borros could fully process the betrayal, the carriage came to a sudden, jarring stop. The horses whinnied nervously, and the sounds of movement outside filled the air.

 Borros frowned, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his sword. "What is the meaning of this?" he barked as he pushed open the carriage door and stepped out.

A group of men had surrounded the carriage, their faces hidden beneath dark hoods.

One of them stepped forward, his voice cold and menacing. "His Grace, the King Consort, sends his regards."

Panic surged through Floris, and she began to scream, as a flash of steel glinted in the dim light, and in one swift, brutal motion, the assassin's blade sliced through the air, finding its mark.

Viserra walked into the council chambers, she had only just begun to recover from the sickness that had plagued her pregnancy, and this summons had only served to cause a knot of uncertainty to form in her stomach.

As she stepped inside, her eyes immediately found Aemond, standing tall in his black armour, his gold cloak draped over his shoulder.

His hand was curled around the hilt of his sword, his jaw tense. His violet eye flicked toward her, but his expression was unreadable.

Her mother was seated at the head of the table, with her father standing protectively beside her. Rhaenys the Hand of the Queen was sat to her left with Lord Corlys and Alicent was also present, with a pensive look on her face.

"Come in, Viserra," Rhaenyra said, her voice steady but softer than usual. "Take a seat."

The guards who had escorted her closed the door behind them. Viserra hesitated for a moment, her pulse quickening, before she moved to sit.

A glance at Aemond revealed no comfort—his gaze remained fixed, distant.

Viserra's heart raced as she took her seat. She felt all eyes upon her.

“What’s this about?” she asked, her voice more tentative than she intended. A sense of dread washed over her, though she wasn’t sure why.

Rhaenyra exchanged a glance with Daemon before speaking, her tone gentle but firm. “There has been an incident involving your husband, Lord Borros.”

Viserra froze. “Is-is he alright?”

Rhaenyra shook her head slowly, her eyes filled with seriousness. “It seems Lord Borros' carriage was set upon by thieves not long after entering the Kingswood.”

Viserra’s chest tightened. “Thieves?” she repeated, her voice faint. “Is he-”

Rhaenyra nodded; the weight of her answer heavy. “All were killed, including Lord Borros, and his daughter, Floris.”

Viserra sat back in her chair, shock numbing her thoughts. She hadn’t loved Borros, but hearing of his death was unexpected. She barely had time to process the loss before another question came to her.

“What about Cassandra?” she asked quickly, her gaze darting around the room.

Alicent leaned forward, her hands clasped together, her face a mask of quiet concern. “It seems Lord Borros had instructed Cassandra to remain in the Red Keep, to accompany you and Prince Rhaegar to Storm’s End once you had recovered from your illness.”

Viserra’s mind raced, struggling to understand. “But Borros left the Red Keep some time ago,” she said, confusion lacing her words. “Why are we just finding out about this now?”

Daemon’s voice cut in, dark and steady. “The incident wasn’t discovered until recently. It seems the thieves dragged the carriage off the main path in the Kingswood. Where it lay hidden”

Viserra swallowed hard, her hands gripping the arms of her chair. The world seemed to tilt, everything around her moving too fast to grasp. Borros was dead. Floris was dead.

“I-” she began, but no words came. She glanced toward Aemond, but he remained silent, watching her intently.

Viserra sat in stunned silence after hearing the news of Borros and Floris’s deaths. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions—relief, confusion, guilt—but mostly, a growing sense of dread about what might happen next.

She looked to her mother. “What happens now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rhaenyra exchanged a glance with Daemon before replying. “Borros has a son, but Rhaegar is in line for the Iron Throne. And the child you carry, has not yet been born so-”

Before Rhaenyra could say more, the doors to the council chamber burst open, and Cassandra stormed in, her eyes wild with fury. “This is all your fault!” she screamed, her voice echoing in the chamber.

Viserra stood, her hands trembling, but she held her ground. “What?”

Cassandra’s face twisted with rage as she closed the distance between them, seizing Viserra’s arm in a tight grip.

“Floris told me everything,” she spat. “I know about your affair with Aemond. I know that Rhaegar isn’t really my father’s son but his.” She pointed at Aemond with a shaking hand.

Alicent gasped, her face going pale. “What?” she shrieked, her voice trembling with disbelief.

Before Viserra could react, Aemond moved forward swiftly, his long strides bringing him to Cassandra’s side in moments.

He shoved Cassandra away from Viserra, his voice cold and commanding. “Do not lay hands upon the Princess,” he growled.

Cassandra stumbled back, but she straightened quickly, her face a mask of bitter scorn. “Come to protect your whore, how noble,” she sneered.

The room fell into stunned silence before Rhaenyra slammed her hands down on the table, her voice ringing with authority. “Enough! These are baseless accusations.”

“Baseless?” Cassandra laughed bitterly. “Floris told me that Aemond threatened to kill her. And now, she’s dead. Along with my father.”

Alicent, still reeling, stood shakily from her seat. “Why would Aemond threaten Floris?” she demanded, her voice shaking as she looked at her son.

Cassandra’s lips curled in disdain. “Because she knew about his affair with Viserra. That’s why he declined the marriage proposal. Not because he didn’t want a wife, but because he’s been laying with Viserra, cuckolding my father.”

Daemon leaned forward, his expression dark, eyes narrowed. “It still doesn’t make sense,” he said slowly.

Cassandra scoffed. “Floris tried to blackmail him. She promised to keep quiet about it in exchange for the marriage. But instead, she’s dead.”

“So, you’re saying that your sister was blackmailing a Prince of the realm?” asked Daemon.

“W-Well s-she-”

“-And she promised to keep quiet so long as she got to marry the same man, she was making accusations about?” scoffed Daemon.

“That’s not the point” muttered Cassandra.

Daemon’s lips twitched into a sneer, but before he could respond, Alicent shot to her feet, her voice tight with fury.

“What exactly are you accusing my son of?” she demanded, her voice shaking.

“Murder,” Cassandra said coldly. “Floris and my father’s deaths are his doing. He wanted my father out of the way-”

Alicent shook her head, her face pale with anger. “Impossible. Aemond hasn’t left the Red Keep in weeks. He’s attended to his duties, hasn’t he?”

Daemon nodded in agreement. “No absences from Aemond have been noted”

Cassandra’s eyes flicked back to Viserra, her expression filled with venom. “Then it was her!” she hissed. “She’s been plotting with him all along. They—”

Before she could finish, Rhaenyra stepped forward, cutting her off sharply. “Viserra has been on bed rest due to pregnancy-related sickness. She was in no condition to be involved in such matters.”

Cassandra looked around the room in disbelief, her accusations faltering as no one seemed to take her seriously.

Aemond stood resolute, his hand still resting on his sword. Alicent’s fury blazed, while Daemon’s cold calculation suggested he had already considered every angle of this situation and Rhaenyra’s unwavering defence of her daughter silenced further protest.

Finally, Cassandra’s voice broke with frustration. “This is not over,” she muttered darkly, glaring at Viserra with barely concealed hatred.

Rhaenyra nodded to the guards at the door. “Escort Lady Cassandra out.”

As the guards moved to take Cassandra, she yanked her arm from their grasp but allowed herself to be led out, her venomous gaze never leaving Viserra until the doors shut behind her.

After the meeting, Viserra barely had a moment to breathe before Rhaenyra took her by the arm and ushered her out of the council chamber. She could feel her mother’s protective grip as they moved swiftly down the corridor, her mind still reeling from Cassandra’s accusations.

"I need to return to my duties as Commander of the City Watch," Aemond said, his voice calm though his eye betrayed a glint of urgency.

“Of course” said Alicent, her tone soft but her gaze sharp.

Aemond’s departure seemed hasty, though he masked it well. Alicent watched him walk away, her eyes following his retreating form as he rushed down the hall.

A strange feeling settled in her chest. It wasn’t unusual for Aemond to be focused on his duties, but there was something different in his demeanour today—an urgency that felt...off.

As she turned to leave, a thought crept into her mind, unbidden. Cassandra’s words echoed in her ears, piercing through the layers of loyalty she had for her son. An affair with Viserra. Aemond siring a child in secret.

She shook her head as if to dispel the thought. It was impossible. Aemond was always dutiful, controlled, and reserved. He had never shown any real interest in women outside of duty or family.

Well, that wasn’t strictly true, there were those stories about him bedding a number of older widowed noble ladies, something Alicent didn’t ever want to think about or even acknowledge.

But then again-Rhaegar. Alicent frowned, remembering the bond Aemond had with the boy. He doted on the child more than she had seen him care for anyone, save perhaps Viserra herself.

No, she thought, swallowing the rising unease. Aemond wouldn’t. But the nagging doubt gnawed at her.

The way he had been unusually attached to Viserra since her marriage to Borros. The way he had looked at Cassandra today when she accused him of fathering Rhaegar.

The thought made her stomach twist. Could it be true? Could her son, the one she raised with the highest of values and the strongest of convictions, have committed such a grievous sin?

Alicent’s heart ached at the possibility, but she quickly buried the thought, trying to convince herself that it was impossible. He wouldn’t risk so much, not when he knew what was at stake.

Would he?

Alicent stood frozen in the hall for a moment, watching Aemond disappear around a corner. She shook her head once more, trying to dispel the growing unease.

She had to believe in her son’s honour. But still, doubt lingered like a shadow, casting uncertainty on everything she thought she knew.

Aemond stormed through the corridors of the Red Keep, his mind racing with fury. When he finally found Daemon in one of the shadowed alcoves, he wasted no time.

“What did you do?” Aemond hissed through clenched teeth, his violet eye burning with anger.

Daemon raised a brow, utterly unfazed by Aemond’s fury. He tilted his head slightly, his expression cool and indifferent. “I did what needed to be done,” he said in that casual, almost mocking tone. “Borros is gone, just like we agreed.”

Aemond’s jaw tightened, his fury barely contained. “The plan was to get rid of Borros, not his daughter”

Daemon merely shrugged, as though the death of Floris was a trivial afterthought. “Two stags, one arrow,” he said nonchalantly. “Floris knew too much. If you want something done right, Aemond, you have to remove all the loose ends.”

Aemond’s fists clenched. "But she's told Cassandra everything," he growled, stepping closer, his voice low and dangerous. "You can't exactly get rid of her without raising even more suspicion."

Daemon laughed, a dark sound that echoed off the stone walls. “Stop being such a green boy. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to get rid of a nuisance or two, and it won’t be the last.”

Aemond narrowed his eye, his frustration mounting. "What about the men you sent?" His voice dripped with venom.

Daemon smiled wickedly, cleaning the dirt from under his nails as if the subject didn’t matter. “Caraxes has been well fed. Can't have them talking, can we?”

Aemond’s heart pounded in his chest. "And what are we going to do about Cassandra?"

Daemon straightened, a sly grin pulling at his lips. “Cassandra can be dealt with in another way. We offer her something better—Storm’s End itself. Rhaenyra could aid her in finding a suitable husband to rule alongside her as Consort. Any children she bears will have the chance to inherit, rather than Viserra’s”

Aemond’s eyes narrowed. "You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?" His tone was laced with sarcasm and frustration.

Daemon chuckled; his eyes gleaming with that familiar, dangerous confidence. “Someone has to, don’t they?” He stepped back slightly and tilted his head, giving Aemond a once-over. “If you were any kind of man, you’d have slit that fat oaf’s throat many moons ago.”

Aemond’s gaze darkened, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. "So could you," he shot back, his voice like steel.

Daemon smirked, unbothered by the tension. “What’s done is done,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Now we play our parts, and in a few months, it’ll all blow over. You’ll be free to marry Viserra, and no one will question it.”

Aemond’s eye flickered, his mind racing. "And Rhaenyra? How much does she know?"

Daemon’s grin widened as he took a step back. “She knows as much as she needs to know. Leave it to her to handle the rest.”

Aemond’s brow furrowed, concern gnawing at him. “And Viserra?”

Daemon paused, meeting Aemond’s gaze with a slight smirk. “That’s up to you. You tell her what you want. Just be sure you play your role well, and everything will fall into place.” He gave Aemond a final glance, then turned, striding off down the corridor with his usual air of confidence.

Aemond approached Viserra’s chambers, his footsteps almost silent against the stone floor. As he neared the door, he noticed it was slightly ajar, and the soft murmur of voices reached his ears.

He paused, his hand hovering just above the doorframe as he heard Rhaenyra’s voice, low and serious, filtering through the narrow opening.

“-Daemon’s plan, and by extension, Aemond’s,” Rhaenyra was saying, her tone laden with a mix of frustration and resignation. “Initially, Floris wasn’t part of it, but there’s nothing that can be done now. As Queen, I will do everything in my power to keep any scandalous news quiet. If they had consulted me first, I could have offered another solution, but as always, Daemon acts first and thinks later.”

Aemond felt a cold knot form in his stomach. He knew he shouldn’t be listening, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

Rhaenyra continued, her voice carrying a tone of warning. “You must appear as the grieving widow, Viserra, but you must keep your distance from Aemond. It may be for the best that you take Rhaegar and spend a few weeks on Dragonstone”

“Shouldn’t I attend the funerals?” asked Viserra.

“No-I can say that you have gone to Dragonstone for your health and that of the babe you carry” replied Rhaenyra.

“Ok” muttered Viserra.

“There will also be questions over the succession of Storm’s End. Rhaegar is Borros’ son in the eyes of the realm, but he’s also the future heir to the Iron Throne, and too young to rule. As Borros’s widow, Storm’s End could potentially fall into your hands. You could rule as its regent until the babe you carry comes of age.”

Viserra’s voice was soft but firm. “I don’t want it.”

Rhaenyra sighed, a note of empathy in her voice. “Then we give it to Cassandra in exchange for her silence.”

There was a pause, and then Viserra’s quiet agreement. “Yes, that would be best.”

Aemond’s heart pounded in his chest as he heard the rustle of movement within the room. He stepped back slightly as Rhaenyra moved toward the door, her footsteps approaching.

The door swung open, and Rhaenyra’s eyes immediately met Aemond’s. She didn’t seem surprised to see him there, leaning against the wall, his face an unreadable mask.

Rhaenyra regarded him with a stern gaze. “Next time you have a problem, Aemond, consult with me first—not my husband.”

Aemond clenched his jaw, giving a curt nod. Rhaenyra’s gaze softened slightly as she turned back to Viserra, who remained seated inside the room.

“I will allow you one last night together,” she said, her tone gentler now. “But on the morrow, you will take Rhaegar to Dragonstone, and you will both keep your distance for a few weeks.”

With that, Rhaenyra turned and walked away, Aemond watched his half-sister until she disappeared down the corridor, then he slowly entered Viserra’s chambers, closing the door behind him.

Viserra sat on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped in her lap, eyes downcast. Aemond crossed the room in a few quick strides, his heart aching as he knelt before her, taking her hands in his.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret.

Viserra was silent, her expression unreadable as she looked down at him.

The silence stretched between them, and Aemond’s worry grew. Was she ashamed of him? Angry for his part in what had happened to Borros and Floris?

The thought gnawed at him, and he feared he had lost her in more ways than one.

But then, without a word, Viserra reached out and removed his eyepatch. The sapphire that had taken the place of his lost eye glinted in the light.

Viserra’s fingers were gentle as they brushed over the scarred skin around his eye, and she cupped the side of his face tenderly.

Aemond leaned into her touch, his breath hitching as her warmth seeped into him. It was a simple gesture, but it was everything to him—her acceptance, her understanding, her love. The fears that had plagued him moments ago began to ebb away.

“You could have told me,” Viserra said softly, her voice steady and calm.

Aemond’s gaze met hers, and he swallowed hard. “I didn’t exactly know the details myself,” he admitted. “Daemon just said that he’d take care of it”

Viserra nodded, her thumb tracing the line of his scar. “Typical behaviour from my father, but it’s done now.”

There was no anger in her voice, no accusation—only a quiet resignation that made his heart ache even more.

She understood the world they lived in, the decisions they had to make, even if those decisions were brutal and unforgiving. She understood him.

Viserra leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. Aemond responded immediately, his hands moving to her waist as he pulled her closer.

They broke the kiss, their foreheads resting against one another, breaths mingling as they savoured the closeness.

“We only have the night together,” Viserra whispered, her voice a mixture of sorrow and determination. “I say we make the most of it and you fuck me just the way I like it"”

Aemond nodded eagerly, his lips pressing against hers.

The morning was cool, with a gentle breeze blowing across the grassy meadow as Viserra stood next to Vermithor, her bronze-scaled dragon, ready to depart.

Rhaegar clutched her hand tightly, his young face filled with a mixture of excitement and uncertainty.

Viserra looked down at him, her heart heavy with the thought of leaving behind everything she knew, even if only for a short time.

Her mother approached, her regal demeanour softening as she pulled Viserra into a tight embrace. "Take care of yourself, my daughter," Rhaenyra whispered. "And know that you are loved."

Viserra hugged her mother back, drawing strength from her warmth. "I will, Mother. Thank you."

Next, she turned to her father, who stood with a smirk playing on his lips. As they embraced, Viserra leaned in close, whispering a quiet "Thank you" into his ear.

Daemon’s smirk widened into a grin, his voice a low rumble. "Anything for you, daughter," he replied, his tone affectionate.

Viserra pulled back slightly, her gaze searching his. "Is Mother angry with you?"

Daemon chuckled softly; the sound full of amusement.

"Just a little bit," he confessed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "But I like it when Rhaenyra's angry."

Viserra couldn’t help the grimace that crossed her face at her father's insinuation, but she shook her head, smiling despite herself.

She then turned her attention to her siblings, hugging Luke and Rhaena tightly. "Take care of each other," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

Viserra turned to Helaena and smiled as she embraced her.

"We’ll see each other soon," said Helaena, her calm demeanour reassuring.

To her surprise, Aegon was there, standing with a smile on his face, and despite the fact that he absolutely reeked of wine, Viserra hugged him.

"Look after Aemond," she told Aegon, her voice tinged with a seriousness that belied her usual interactions with him.

Aegon chuckled, shaking his head. "I will," he promised.

Viserra narrowed her eyes playfully. "And when I say look after him, I don’t mean taking him to brothels."

Aegon laughed, the sound hearty and full of mischief. "Spoil sport"

Kneeling down to Rhaegar's level, Aegon produced a small, carved dragon from his pocket, passing it to the boy.

Rhaegar's eyes lit up as he examined the toy. "Vhagar," he whispered, recognizing the dragon it represented.

Aegon leaned in close, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. "From your Kepa" (Father).

Rhaegar nodded solemnly, clutching the dragon to his chest as if it were a precious treasure.

Viserra took a deep breath, knowing it was time. "It’s time to get going," she declared, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her heart.

Rhaenyra offered one last reassurance. "There are many on Dragonstone who will ensure you and Rhaegar are well looked after. And there’s a Maester—he’s no Gerardys, but he’s skilled enough."

Viserra nodded, appreciating her mother’s concern, but her thoughts were already turning to the journey ahead.

She lifted Rhaegar into her arms, instructing him to hold on tight as she began to climb the ladder attached to Vermithor’s saddle.

Once seated, she secured them both with the straps, ensuring Rhaegar was safely nestled in front of her. His little dragon, Karnax, landed on her shoulder, his claws digging into her riding leathers for stability.

Viserra allowed herself one final glance at the Red Keep, her thoughts lingering on Aemond.

They had decided it was for the best that he not come to bid her farewell, so their goodbyes had been said in the privacy of her chambers that morning.

She gave Vermithor the command to fly, her voice firm despite the sadness that tugged at her heart.

With a powerful beat of his massive wings, Vermithor lifted from the ground, the world below shrinking as they ascended into the sky.

Over the next week, Aemond found himself grappling with an unfamiliar emptiness that gnawed at him relentlessly.

Viserra and Rhaegar's absence left a void that he couldn’t seem to fill, no matter how many hours he dedicated to his duties and despite his efforts, the agitation simmered just beneath the surface, ready to boil over at the slightest provocation.

He snapped at his men for the smallest infractions, his patience worn thin by the ache of loss that weighed on him.

Every training session with the sword felt hollow, every council meeting dragged on endlessly, and every duty he performed felt like a chore without purpose.

The familiar corridors of the Red Keep, which once seemed to pulse with life, now felt oppressive, as if the walls themselves were closing in on him.

Rhaenyra and Daemon’s departure for Storm’s End only worsened his mood. They had gone to attend the joint funerals of Borros and Floris, a sombre affair that Aemond had no desire to be part of.

He knew whispers had circulated regarding Viserra’s absence from the proceedings, but they had been swiftly silenced, likely due to Daemon’s presence—and the shadows of Caraxes and Syrax.

On his patrols, Aemond often found himself drawn to the edge of the city, where he would gaze out across Blackwater Bay, the vast expanse of water stretching toward Dragonstone.

He wondered how Viserra and Rhaegar were faring, whether they were safe, whether they missed him as much as he missed them.

The thought of them on that distant isle, away from the intrigues and dangers of King’s Landing, should have brought him some measure of peace. But it didn’t.

Without Viserra, the days blurred together in a monotonous haze. She had been a constant presence in his life for the last four years, and without her, it felt as though a huge hole had been punched through his chest, leaving him raw and exposed.

In the dead of night, when the city was quiet and his duties were done, Aemond would return to his chambers, the solitude pressing down on him like a suffocating weight.

He would pace the floor, restless and tense, his thoughts always circling back to her.

He would lay in bed at night, his eye closed as he remembered their last night together, and how he made her peak using his tongue, fingers and cock.

He had her many times that night, fucking her into a blissed out state of exhaustion.

It was a good job that she was already with child as no doubt given the amount of times he spilled his seed inside her that night it would have surely taken root.

Just thinking about her aroused him and in his desperation he would fuck his fist or resort to humping the sheets, quickly spilling is seed like a green boy.

He missed the sound of her voice, the feel of her beside him, the way she would hold him against her breasts and stroke his hair as she whispered words of love to him.

She had seen his vulnerability and never judged him for it.

There were times when they would simply lie naked next to one another, and she would listen as he told her of his inner turmoil.

Other times where he would be in pain from his missing eye, or his scar woud get irritated from the dry air and she would take care of him.

Then there were times where she would kneel beside him as he bathed and she would rub oils into his hair, then she would brush and braid it for him, whispering how beautiful he was, and how much she loved him.

It was in these moments, alone with his thoughts, that Aemond realized just how deeply Viserra had rooted herself in his heart.

And Rhaegar, his little dragon. He missed the feeling of holding his son in his arms and the way he would giggle as he tickled him, he missed the sound of Rhaegar’s soft snores when he would fall asleep as he read to him at bedtime.

He missed his sons cheeky smile when he managed to steal an extra slice of cake, and he even missed the tantrums he would throw whenever the dragon keepers tried to take Karnax to the dragon pit.

He was a father without his child, and a husband without his wife.

Their absence was not just a temporary separation; it was a reminder of how much they had come to mean to him, how integral they had become to his very being.

And that knowledge only made the ache worse and as the days passed, the unease within him grew.

But all he could do was wait—wait for the day when he would see them again, when the hole in his chest might finally start to heal.

Until then, Aemond knew he would continue to be haunted by the emptiness that now defined his days.

The next day, Aegon opened the door to Aemond’s chambers and found his brother pacing restlessly, his usual composure fractured by the tension that had gripped him since Viserra and Rhaegar’s departure.

Taking a deep breath Aegon walked into Aemond’s chambers, determined to drag him out of his sour mood, even if it meant enduring his sharp tongue.

"Come on, Aemond," Aegon started, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "You’ve got to lighten up a little”

“Why do you care” snapped Aemond.

“Because Viserra told me to look after you, and even though you’re a massive twat with a really punchable face, I intend to keep my promise."

Aemond scoffed as he stripped off his armour and gold cloak, tossing them aside carelessly.

With a heavy sigh, he threw himself into an armchair, his exhaustion and frustration evident in the tense set of his shoulders.

"You know. A good fuck would sort you right out” Aegon teased, though he didn’t expect the glare Aemond shot his way.

"-I was just kidding" muttered Aegon throwing his hands up in mock surrender.

Aemond leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. His voice, when he spoke, was raw with emotion. "It’s only been just over a week, and I’m already going mad. I just-I miss Viserra and Rhaegar so much."

Aegon’s teasing demeanour softened. Despite all his jests and jabs, he knew his brother's feelings for Viserra ran deep.

"Surely it won’t be too long before she can return to the Red Keep. Rhaenyra just needs to handle the situation with Cassandra"

Aemond sighed again, his worry etched into every line of his face. "I know, but Viserra has only just recovered from her sickness. What if she gets ill again on Dragonstone? What if something happens to her or Rhaegar while they’re there?"

Aegon rolled his eyes, though there was a hint of affection in the gesture. "They have a Maester on Dragonstone. You really need to relax and stop being so annoying. Viserra and Rhaegar will be back soon enough. And when enough time has passed, the two of you can get married properly. Then maybe you’ll finally get that sour expression off your face and stop acting like a girl."

Aemond finally lifted his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips despite himself. "You’re impossible"

"And you’re unbearable when you’re like this," Aegon shot back, though his tone was light. "But seriously, brother, stop worrying so much. Viserra is strong. She’ll be back, and when she is, you’ll have her by your side again. Until then, stop acting like the world’s ending."

Aemond sighed but nodded, knowing Aegon was right, even if it didn’t ease the ache in his chest.

The days would be long and hard without Viserra, but he would endure them as he always had—with steel in his spine and a single-minded focus on what mattered most.

But it didn’t mean he wouldn’t count every minute until he saw her again.

[izurou]

“i hid a pea under the mattress, in case you were wondering.”

levi peers over his shoulder—hearing the routine sound of your balcony door sliding open, followed by the familiar warmth of your voice, coated in an obvious layer of sleep.

“yeah? you gonna marry me now that you know i’m the real deal?” he asks, bringing the cigarette sitting between his index and middle finger up to his lips.

he inhales, then exhales—watching a small cloud of smoke hang in the air, and he thinks to himself, i hate this. the cigarettes, and their stale scent—an unwanted guest that sits on his shoulders for days afterwards—the worst company he’s ever had the displeasure of hosting.

it’s merely a last resort though—a bad habit he turns to when the good just can’t scratch his itch, or—when it’s fast asleep beside him.

either way, you’re here now.

“depends,” you hum, nudging the door shut with your foot—hands busy cupping a mug that reads blow me i’m hot. “will you wear something pretty for me?”

it was a gag gift, something you had bought on a whim—it’s sole purpose being to put a smile on levi’s face a few times before inevitably collecting dust in the back of your cupboard. though, the inside of the cup is now littered with little dull lines—a year or two of love from a silver spoon.

“define pretty,” he says, because he knows you—knows the serrated edge of your tongue, down to the very last ridge.

“you.” him? bullshit.

he furrows his brows at you, but remains silent—waiting for you to unsheathe your blade and deliver the punchline.

“get it? because you’re…” you trail off—using the mug in your hand to gesture up and down at him, simultaneously passing the beverage over.

there it is.

“mm, trying to get me into something short, are we?” he hums, easily connecting the dots to your little pun. he flicks the butt of his cigarette several stories down, and sips his tea. “should’ve known.”

“well, you’ve got the legs for it,” you say, shooting him an over the top wink, and he almost laughs—a little puff of air through his nose with a smile.

you on the other hand do laugh, leaning into him a little bit as a result, and oh—the fruity scent of your body wash still lingers on your skin, courtesy of the hot shower you took before bed.

and he can’t help but stare—ridiculous, he knows, even more so considering the one you’re laughing at is him, but—you’re gorgeous. the little scrunch of your nose, and the roundness of your cheeks—the way you look to him for approval, as if to say please laugh too.

you’re a real pain in his ass sometimes, and yet you’re still the best company he’s ever had—it’s awfully comforting to know that at least one of the things he’s addicted to, is good for him. so, he stares at you and he thinks to himself, i love you.

“do you wanna get married?”

he blurts it out, words uttered with the utmost casualty—like he’s simply asking what you want for breakfast in the morning.

“what?” your laughter ceases, and you tilt your head at him.

“to me,” he says, feeling the need to clarify that he didn’t mean a generalized do you want to get married to someone, someday—but a do you want to get married to him, soon.

“levi, are you proposing to me?” you ask, disbelief sitting in the back of your throat as you brush a stray piece of his hair back into place. “because if you are, i think you’re doing it wrong.”

“oh? who said there’s a right way?” he questions, wrapping a hand around your wrist, holding you ever so gently.

“everyone, i think,” you mumble—the intensity of his gaze rooting you to the ground.

levi’s never expressed any interest in the topic of marriage. the status sure as hell wouldn’t change anything—he wouldn’t look at you different, nor would he treat you as such, and he’d still love you the same, always has and always will.

but, you deserve this.

“alright,” he mutters, and just like that he’s sliding the door back open—ushering you back inside.

he’s had the ring for a while—a pretty silver band that splits off into two, intertwining with each other before meeting beneath a single diamond. the place was going out of business, so it was relatively cheap, and in need of a new home.

he walks you to your bedroom, motioning for you to sit on the edge of the mattress as he heads for his nightstand.

a part of him wishes he would’ve brought the ring out onto the balcony with him—maybe someone passing by could’ve given this moment a sliver of the attention it deserves, for your sake.

it doesn’t matter though, because you fiddle with your fingers as you watch him get onto one knee, and you feel the butterflies in your stomach come to life as he opens the little black box—because the only person you need attention from, is him.

“marry me?”

[heli-writes]

Marriage of Convenience, part 10: settling.

Pairing: Yoriichi x you

Summary: Yoriichi's friends think that Yoriichi is too lonely and needs a wife and family to take care of him. They propose a marriage of convenience to a woman who's in need of a husband. The arrangement of the marriage is simple: both parties live their lives as before, y/n takes care of Yoriichi as a wife and Yoriichi keeps unwanted men (and demons) away. Love is not required, friendship is appreciated. However, how detached can one be when living so close to each other?

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The safe house is hidden behind multiple layers of wisteria trees. When Yoriichi told her the demon slayers would provide a safe house for them, (y/n) assumed it would be exactly that, a house. She did not expect to find a mansion upon arrival. (Y/n) gapes at the 'house' with an open mouth. 

(Y/s/n) pulls her kimono since Yoriichi already started walking ahead. (Y/n) takes the boy's hand and quickly hurries after her husband. An elderly woman and a young girl greet the small family of three at the entrance. They bow deeply in front of Yoriichi. "Yoriichi-sama. It's a pleasure to have you as our guest.", the elderly woman says before introducing herself and her granddaughter as Rai and Okimi Ubuyashiki. 

"We've already prepared your living quarters for you and your family.", Mrs. Ubuyashiki says as she leads the three of them through the house. 

"We've chosen a place in the East Wing for you. Most rooms there are empty most of the time and only used for injured slayers from time to time. This way you have some more privacy.", Mrs Ubuyashiki explains. 

She slides a door open and leads the three of them inside. It's a spacious room. On one side three futons were laid next to each other. On the other side, there is a small table and some cushions. The walls are decorated with some calligraphy paintings and there are some fresh flowers in a vase on the table. 

"I hope you find this sufficient.", Mrs. Ubuyashiki tells them. 

"It's more than sufficient, it is lovely.", (y/n) tells her. "We're very grateful for your hospitality.", she adds and the three of them bow their heads to Mrs. Ubuyashiki. The woman nods contently and says: "I'll leave you to get settled. Okimi comes back in a while for dinner". The old woman disappears behind the sliding door and (y/s/n) immediately throws himself on one of the futons with a squeak. 

"Don't do that. It's rude.", (y/n) tells him and the boy looks up to her with a guilty look on his face as he wants to say sorry. Yoriichi puts down their luggage and puts the bags in the opposite corner of the futons. 

Suddenly, there's a knock on the door and Okimi brings in a tray with steaming tea and some biscuits. She doesn't say much, just puts down the tray and bows politely. She gives (y/s/n) a small smile when she slides the door closed. 

Yoriichi and (y/n) take a seat at the table and Yoriichi pours some tea for the both of them. Meanwhile, (y/s/n) found the door to the porch and started examining the surroundings of their room. 

"Don't wander off too far," (y/n) warns him, "and don't bother any of our hosts". She looks after him in concern. 

"Don't worry about the boy", Yoriichi comforts her, "the people around here are nice and like children". (Y/n) rubs her temple. 

"They might not be so nice if he makes trouble.", she tells him and picks up her tea cup. 

"(Y/s/n) is not the type of child to create trouble around him.", Yoriichi says softly. (Y/n) takes a sip of the tea. It's way too hot. She wonders if Okimi made it herself, which she finds rather endearing. 

"I know, he's a good and quiet child. But with him not speaking, most people treat him differently and he quickly... Actually, I don't know how to describe it. People are often rude to him because his muteness unsettles them. It's like they push him away because he's different.", she tries to explain. 

Yoriichi nods understandingly. He knows exactly what (y/n) means. He experienced it in his own childhood. "Are you worried about him not speaking?", he suddenly asks her. (Y/n) looks into her steaming teacup. 

"Of course, it worries me he doesn't speak. I mean, clearly, he isn't deaf or mentally disabled. I'm scared it's something medical that eventually affects more than just his voice. I'm even more scared that it's the trauma he experienced when his parents died. ", she says furrowing her brows. 

"Is that possible? That children don't speak because of trauma?", Yoriichi asks. 

(Y/n) hesitates, then carefully says: "I think. So far I've seen only traumatised adults. Sometimes they temporarily don't speak due to shock. Usually, when the shock wears off, they slowly start speaking again and other trauma symptoms become prevalent." Yoriichi bobs his head in thought. 

"Do you want him to speak?", he asks her. (Y/n) shrugs. 

"I mean it would make communicating with him simpler. He could tell us exactly what he wants and thinks. But it's not like I don't understand him. It's the others that don't understand him.", she tells him. 

"You're his mother, you know him best. It's sometimes hard to understand other people even though they speak if you don't know them well enough.", Yoriichi replies. (Y/n) warms her hand on her teacup. 

"Exactly. What if something happens to me? Or you? Then nobody will really understand him. What then?", she asks and the sound of desperation lies thick underneath her voice. Yoriichi puts a hand on her shoulder and rubs it carefully. 

"Don't think like that. We're safe here. Nothing will happen.", he says. Suddenly he has a bad consciousness for bringing up (y/s/n)'s muteness. He was only interested in her opinion. He didn't know such deep feelings were connected to it. (Y/n) wipes her eyes. 

"That's now. But what about in 20 or 30 years? I won't be around forever to be his outside voice for him.", she sniffs. Yoriichi shifts closer to her and wraps an arm around her. (Y/n) thankfully accepts his embrace. 

"He'll find his outside voice.", he reassures her. 

"How can you be so sure about that?", (y/n) asks back. 

"Because I found mine.", he replies softly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Life at the safe house is slow. (Y/n) tries to help with chores and tasks as well as she can but Mrs. Ubuyashiki is being a good host and does not let (y/n) work too much. Being used to work, y/n finds her days quite empty. She uses the time to teach (y/s/n) reading and writing. But soon the boy gets bored by the endless repetitions of the same letters. He much rather play with Okimi. The two children get along well. Okimi doesn't seem to care much about (y/s/n)'s muteness and (y/n) likes to watch them fondly while they play in the garden.

Yoriichi isn't much around. It seems as if demon activity did not only rise around their little cottage but all over the place. Most nights he's away slaying demons and (y/n) is left alone in the dark. She finds herself wishing that Yoriichi was around more often. Actually, she has to admit that she misses him. Some nights she wishes she could hear him breathe in the darkness. During particularly lonely nights, she wished she could sneak into his futon and rest her head against his chest so that she could feel his warmth and soft skin under her hands. 

She knows it's a bit silly. Sure, things have shifted between them. She'll probably won't forget how his soft lips grazed hers. Still, Yoriichi never mentioned that night since it happened. She's not sure if it's due to his stoic nature or because he feels uncomfortable to talk about it. Or maybe he regrets it, a nasty voice in her head keeps saying. That alone is another silly thought. Everyone who knows Yoriichi knows that he doesn't act rashly or in the spur of the moment. Yoriichi always acts with intent, calm and determined. There's no doubt Yoriichi knew exactly what he was doing when he told her these things and kissed her.

(Y/n) lets out a deep sigh as she finishes folding the laundry. (Y/s/n) looks over to his mother curiously. (Y/n) waves him towards her and makes him put away the fresh laundry. The sun has just set and Yoriichi left some time ago. After dinner, most residents retired to their own rooms. (Y/n) just finished tidying up a bit as (y/s/n) played with some toys in the other part of the room. After the boy puts away the laundry, (y/n) tucks him into his futon and bids him good night before laying to rest as well. She lays awake in the dark for some time before finally drifting off to sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Loud voices and yelling disturb her slumber. People are running up and down the hallway. (Y/n) sitting straight upward within seconds. She almost headbutts (y/s/n) when she shoots up. The boy was sitting by her side clutching her bed sheet in his hands. He must've gotten up before (y/n) and tried to alert her. If (y/n) wasn't so distracted by the commotion outside, she'd worry over the panic-stricken eyes of her son.

Within seconds, (y/n) quickly pulled a kimono over her shoulders, letting it hang loosely over her sleepwear. On her bare feet, she grabs her son's arm and pulls him towards the door. For a moment, she hesitates. There are no sounds of fighting, so it must be safe to put her head out of the door.

When (y/n) peers through the door, two kakushi run past it and (y/n) catches a glimpse of an injured demon slayer on a stretcher. Okimi rushes after them, but (y/n) is quick to get a hold of the girl.

„What's going on here?“, she presses the girl for answers.

„A big demon attack“, Okimi pants, „Many slayers got injured.“

„I've got a medical education. Tell me where to go.“, (y/n) immediately says and Okimi points her towards the hall at the end of the floor where they are piling up the injured in a makeshift hospital ward. When Okimi wants to run off in the same direction, (y/n) stops her again. 

„I need you to look after (y/s/n). Please stay in our room with him.“, she tells Okimi sternly. The girl almost immediately protests, but (y/n) quickly adds: „You're a bit older than him. I trust you are taking this responsibility seriously.“

On her way to the hall, (y/n) thinks of the slayer she saw earlier. It's not a sight for children. She understands that Okimi wants to help but it is better to let the adults handle this. Sights like this will haunt you in your nightmares. (Y/n) knows what she's talking about.

 At the makeshift hospital ward, (y/n) gets in touch with the leading healer. It doesn't take long until she's in a white gown treating patients. However, she refrains from stitching wounds or other surgical tasks. She's not a doctor and knows what lies outside of her competence. Instead, she's quick to clean wounds with antiseptic, applying salves and handing out anti-inflammatory medicines.

That is until the first poison victims start to come in. Convulsing victims with purple skin are brought in and laid upon empty futons. She can see the desperation on the other healers's and nurses's faces. A poison can only be treated with a precise antitoxin. If the poison is a neurotoxin, things look bad. The neurosystem can shut down within minutes. (Y/n) hands her tasks over to a younger nurse and rushes towards the poison victims. She takes quick notes on the symptoms they are experiencing and narrows down to what kind of poison they are dealing with. While taking in the sight, she makes her way to the head healer.

„Where do you make your medicine around here? And how well are you stocked?“, (y/n) asks quickly. The head healer looks are her irritatedly. 

„We don't have time to make more medicine. Can't you see what we're dealing with here?“, the woman exclaims. 

„I know exactly what we are dealing with here and if you want to give these men a fighting chance, you better put me to work. There are four different antidotes we can try out with a poison like this, but they won't do anything if the men are already dead.“, (y/n) tells her harshly. 

Usually, she would've been a bit friendlier but the pressure is getting to her. The woman's eyes widen and she starts barking orders around. Within minutes y/n is standing in a pharmacist's workshop with two kakushis subordinated to her. They get to work immediately and (y/n) keeps shouting orders at the kakushi while working on two different things at the same time. (Y/n)'s brain and hands are performing at absolute excellence tonight. It's the responsibilities of these men's lives that keep her focused and her mind from wandering off to Yoriichi who is still fighting somewhere in the dark of night.

By the end of the night, the small team manages to produce a variety of antitoxins. Unfortunately, by then almost half of the men who got poisoned had already passed. The remaining men however could be stabilized thanks to (y/n)'s antidotes. While the kakushis and nurses in the room sigh in relief when one of (y/n)'s productions starts to take effect, it doesn't feel like a win to (y/n). If she would've been able to take her supplies with her, this could've been avoided. As a poison brewer, one always keeps the most necessary supplies for antitoxins around. 

(Y/n) is utterly exhausted when the sun finally shows its first rays beyond the horizon. She slumps against a door frame sitting outside on the porch. The soft sunlight tickles her skin but she feels too numb to enjoy it. She knew being a demon slayer was dangerous – of course, she saw what demons were capable of firsthand. Still, seeing all these injuries and seeing so many people pass left an impact on her. 

(Y/n) sighs and massage her own neck. She's exhausted and drained – both physically and emotionally. (Y/s/n) is probably already waiting for her. She's sure he didn't fall asleep tonight. (Y/n) stretches her face towards the rising sun. The soft sunrays prick her skin. 

She wonders where Yoriichi is at the moment. Most likely, he's still on the battlefield. Fighting these monsters until they flee the very sun that caresses her skin so softly. (Y/n) crunches her eyebrows. Hopefully, he isn't injured. Since he wasn't brought here tonight he's probably fine. Well, at least he doesn't have any life threatening injuries.

(Y/n) stays in the sun for a few more moments before getting up. Her limbs feel heavy and stiff. She really needs some sleep. As she drags herself back to their room, she listens intently. The buzz of the night has slowed down. There are still some healers taking care of patients, but many others try to get some rest. Those slayers who didn't make it through the night were put down outside the main house. Those who did survive most likely are sleeping in a drugged slumber right now.

When (y/n) arrives at their room, she carefully slides the door open in hopes that the two kids are sound asleep inside. That turns out to be partly true. Okimi lies spread out on (y/s/n)'s futon with closed eyes. She looks as if she tossed and turned until sleep took her. (Y/s/n) lays next to her burying his face into the pig plushie Yoriichi won for him. The moment the door slides open, (y/s/n) raises his head, looking expectantly at the entrance of the room. 

After (y/n) entered the room and slid the door shut, the boy gets up and finds his way to her. He clings to her leg. (Y/n) pats his head and crunches down to him. 

„You can't sleep, (y/s/n)?“, she asks the boy while softly touching his cheek. (Y/s/n) finds his way into his mother's arms. (Y/n) strokes over his back and leads him back to the futon. Quickly, she pulls out her own futon and changes clothes. She slides under the blanket and lets her son slide into the futon with her. 

(Y/n) doesn't bother to tell (y/s/n) good night, she's too tired to hold any kind of conversation right now. Sleep overtakes her within seconds. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When y/n wakes up again, the sun is already high in the sky. (Y/s/n) is awake but still cuddled into her side. Okimi is nowhere to be found. (Y/n) yawns and stretches. I guess she must've already woken up and left, she thinks.

Slowly, (y/n) gets up as well. She feels groggy and hungry. (Y/s/n) slides out of the blankets as well. (Y/n) gets some fresh water for them to clean up. Once she's dressed properly, she starts looking for fresh clothes for (y/s/n). While she's helping (y/s/n) into the fresh clothes, there is a knock on the door. After (y/n) called for the visitor to come in, the door slides open. She half-expected Yoriichi to enter the room, but she's mistaken. 

It is Rai Ubuyashiki entering the room alongside a younger woman who also wears clothes with the Ubuyashiki crest. Y/n guesses that it is the wife of Master Ubuyashiki himself. She hasn't met the Master or his wife yet even though they reside in this mansion as well. Yoriichi told her that the Master is very sick and only participates in important meetings. His wife Yuko always sticks by his side tending to him. 

(Y/n) quickly gets up and greets them in a deep bow.

„Good morning, Mrs. Tsugikuni.“, the younger woman greets her. (Y/n) almost blushes upon hearing her call her by Yoriichi's name. It's true that it's now her own name as well but it still sounds foreign to her.

„Good morning, Mrs. Ubuyashiki. What brings you here on this sad morning?“, (y/n) asks. The woman gives her s restrained smile. She understands what (y/n) is implying. What is she doing here talking to (y/n) when there are probably a lot more important people to talk to after the tragedy of tonight?

„I won't take up much of your time.“, Yuko says, „I'm only here to deliver a message.“

(Y/n)'s ears perk up at that. A message? To her? Is it about Yoriichi? Sweat starts to form at the back of her neck.

„My husband wishes to speak to you. He invites you to have tea with him this afternoon.“

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

[Please comment beneath the last update if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters]