#with dagger held unsheathed

[silverskye13]

Hunter by Paris Paloma is a Helsknight and Welsknight song. Statement ends.

[dolicekiss]

A debt

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen X Velaryon niece!reader

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+, mdni please), dubcon, lucerys velaryon reader (basically reader is lucerys velaryon but female), toxic aemond, threats, unprotected sex (p in v), near death experiment, hair pulling, rough making out, attempted sexual asssult, breeding, virgin!reader, bickering, mentions of blood, tension, kinda angsty

SYNOPSIS: Aemond could never forget that you had taken his eye out, so when you both cross paths at Storm’s End, he demands for what was taken from him. Things went haywire when a sneak attack lead you to fall from your dragon and be swallowed by the large waves. Only that you didn't die, as Aemond finds you and saves you. With nowhere to take you, the prince takes you to a brothel hoping Sylvie would keep you safe there. Little did be know, a beautiful girl such as yourself was not a thing to be put in a brothel.

“I want you to put out your eye, as payment for mine.”

Blue sapphire sparkled in the hollowness of Aemond’s eye when he peeled back his eye patch and revealed the wound you had left behind as a little girl. A regret at best but not anymore. You swallowed, heart thumping in your chest. You possessed no desire to fight him, nor did you wish to indulge with him.

You were only a messenger here.

“One would serve.” Aemond softly spoke, as you watched him reach for a dagger. “I would not blind you.”

The piercing sound of the dagger being tossed at you was more pellucid against your ears than the gushing rainstorm outside. Patterning aggressively on the cobblestones, striking thunder tearing through the sky. The seven were definitely upset, for what was about to take place. An ominous feeling looming over your head, putting your heart in a state of unease.

“Plan to make a gift of it to my mother.”

There was no way he could expect you to take out your own eye. You had acted upon impulse but you were right to do so. He was going to injure your brother and you, that stone in his hand a vivid image embedded in your mind from childhood.

You held your head high, fierce gaze focused on him. “No.”

Aemond seemed disappointed by your response. “Then you are craven as well as a traitor.”

You could hear Lord Borris’ rebuke in the back but it mattered little to Aemond as he marched towards you abruptly, causing you to retreat back. “Give me your eye, or I will take it, bastard!”

“Come fucking take it then.”

Swords were unsheathed and the sound of it echoed within the halls of Lord Borris' castle.

You were filled with panic, your long black braid moving behind your back when you took haste steps back. Before bloodshed could happen, Lord Borris stepped in and sent you back to your dragon. You were thankful for that as this could lead to something worse.

You went out, going to your dragon, Arrax who seemed in quite distress. You patted his back, once or twice and commanded for it to calm down in high valyrian but nothing seemingly worked. Rain had soaked into your clothes and the thunderstorm only grew heavier witch each second. As you mounted it, your gaze set on the empty space where Vhagar once sat.

You made it your goal to reach dragonstone safely and convey the Lord’s message to your mother.

As Arrax flew up in the grey sky, you looked around hoping to not find Aemond but when the massive shadow of Vhagar flew atop you in the clouds, your blood froze. Panic rising up and you knew very well that fighting Aemond in a dragon combat would end with you losing since he had claimed the largest dragon in all of Westeros.

You could feel your dragon’s uneasiness, same as yours and that was not a good sign.

Aemon had disappeared for now and you released a breath of relief, turning your dragon to head for dragonstone.

Only then Vhagar came in front of you, out of nowhere, with its wide mouth open sending your dragon in pure disarray. You tried to control it, in hopes that things will calm down if one dragon is calm enough but no.

Aemond’s laugh echoed in the open sky and it was enough to fill you with chills. You felt Vhagar right behind you, its loud roars having the same affect as Aemond’s malicious laughs. You saw a narrow pathway between two stones and went inside, knowing Vhagar would be incapable of fitting in there with its large size.

Your commands to calm your dragon down were pathetic and useless.

It was scared, as were you.

You could hear Aemond’s deep voice, and it terrified you.

“Jemēla gēlyēni enkā, riña.” Those words, you knew what they meant and you knew Aemond would only calm when he has ripped out your eye from your socket, a vision you would be.

Fearsome was the thought.

Your vision had blurred due to the constant pouring of the rain and your own head was everywhere. But then, out of nowhere your dragon spots Vhagar and in desperate need to protect itself, flies at the beast and breathes fire into her face.

“Lykiri, Arrax! Lykiri!” Your command in high valyrian flies over your tense dragon’s head as you fly away from Vhagar.

You can hear Vhagar losing its calm too, as Aemond’s high valyrian commands roared along with his dragon. You turned around, looking down but there was no sight of Vhagar chasing after you now, so you flew higher.

You broke through the barrier of the dark, looming clouds and when light greeted you, relief washed over you. False assumptions that everything was calm now became the reason of your fall as Vhagar out of nowhere leaped from the side, biting Arrax‘s head into two.

“Vhagar, no!”

Your eyes widened in horror, gaze locking with Aemond as you lost balance and fell down.

That was all you remembered, as you passed out due to the panic and lose of hope. You knew from then on, you were better off dead but what broke your heart the most was the gruesomely demise of your beloved dragon.

Aemond knew he had to find you.

Vhagar had missed you by an inch and the chances of you being alive were somewhat there. He did not wish to start a war, not like this, not by killing off his niece when she was at her weakest.

He had the advantage by being in the possession of the biggest dragon and he knew it was not fair to you.

Aemond dived in, lowering his dragon to the sea, in hopes that he would find you. Endlessly searching in the water, letting out frustrated grunts when he didn't find you. He flew over the shore, all deserted and he noticed something. Bringing Vhagar closer to it, he jumped off her back and ran towards your passed out body.

Thankfully you had washed up on the shore.

Your long braid wrapped around your stomach, the side of your head bloodied and Aemond fell to his knees, reaching for your face.

You were as lifeless as a corpse.

He checked your pulse and relief washed over him. You were alive, although unconscious.

Aemond buried his arms beneath your soaked body, lifting you up and taking you over to Vhagar. He somehow got you on his dragon’s back and tied you to him, your back pressed against his chest and head leaned over his shoulder.

“Fuck, what do I with you now?” He whispered, a mix of worry and frustration donning his face.

He couldn't take you back to the red keep, as they would capture you and hold you hostage. He didn't want that, not when he had not captured you with honor. Aemond was not some monster without morals but he sure could not take you to the blacks, knowing it would put his life in danger.

There was absolutely nothing he could do than fly around Westeros with you on his dragon.

An idea infiltrated the prince's mind.

There was only one place where he could keep you, without bringing you harm and that was the brothel he often visited. Under Sylvie’s care and under her orders, she surely would protect you and keep you safe.

He sighed, flying to where Vhagar usually rested. He allowed her rest while taking a horse, putting his hoodie over your very bright and pleasant features to conceal you.

The realm had seen you, he did not wish for people to take notice of you. Aemond pressed you into his chest as he rode in King's landing, making way to Sylvie’s brothel.

That was the best place to keep you.

As his own hostage.

For no one else to hurt, no one else to lay claim on you.

Sylvie was surprised to see the prince with an unconscious woman in his arms. Aemond only had to glare at her and she allowed him in. Thankfully it was broad daylight and there were not much customers — giving the young prince enough room to smuggle you in the confinement of a room in a secluded area of the brothel upstairs.

“My prince, who is she?”

Aemond sighed, tiresome all this was but it was his fault and deep down he knew that.

“Just know that she is mine and I am entrusting her to you.” Aemond said, staring at your unconscious body laying on the soft bed. “If harm comes to even a strand of her hair, I will behead you and your girls.”

Sylvie was terrified and it was rare of her to be this terrified of Aemond. His tone was dark and she knew that this woman, whoever she might be, was definitely not to sell to her customers. All the woman could do was nod at the prince, obeying his each and every command.

“Trust me, my prince. Rest assured. I shall take care of her like she is my own.”

Aemond was pleased. “Tend to her wounds, clean her and change her clothes. Give her your most expensive dress.”

Sylvie nodded, eyes lowered to the floor as Aemond continued analyzing you. You had the most longest hair he had ever laid eye upon. A long braid which reached your calves and it was as dark as a raven. You surely were no velaryon, as much as you went around parading it like your mother.

But you surely were a Targaryen.

He departed from the brothel, writing a mental note that he would visit again tonight.

Hours passed by and when you finally regained consciousness, it was not in the arms of death nor the waves but on a soft mattress, surrounded by candles everywhere and the strong sweet scent of oils and perfumes.

Your gaze fell on your attire and it was something you would never in your seven lives wear.

A long sleeved dress, made of sheer material, enough to expose your small clothes. Your shoulders revealed and glistening from the oils that had been rubbed on you. Your hand reached to feel your thick braid but instead wavy strands awaited you. Cascading down your back, surrounding you like a fucking gown. You were in a completely different attire than before.

Soft music orchestrated by someone unknown made its tunes inside the room you were in.

It was small, with a bed and a table side. A chair was also in the corner and you sucked in a deep breath, eyes flitting here and there to analyze the room further.

The door soon opened and it revealed a woman, in her mid fourties and you blinked upon seeing her disheveled state. She was practically naked and slowly the realization began to sink in.

“Is this a brothel?”

The woman had the sweetest smile on her lips as she nodded, in her hand a jug you assumed filled with wine. In her other, a golden cup. A grimace made its way on your face, disgust evident but there was also unmatched anger. You were going to slaughter whoever that had brought you here.

Had they sold you?

Did Aemond do this? It would not make sense at all since you knew he would have abandoned you the moment you fell off your dragon. There was no way he would search for you but if it wasn't him then someone else had found you and put you here.

Your head felt like it could burst at any given moment and you realized how bad of a throbbing pain was in the side of your head. It ached and when you reached for it, you flinched.

“By what means am I here? I need to know who put me in such a horrible filthy place.”

You watched with a sharp eye as she poured the liquid into the cup, extending it out for you once finished. You blinked, shaking your head. “I demand answers, not wine.”

“I'm afraid I'm not allowed to answer those but he will be here soon.”

You snatched the cup of wine from her hand and tossed it across the room, watching as the glass made contact with the wall and collapsed in the corner. The woman’s grin grew wider as she realized you were no low born for sure. The amount of money she could make off you was unmatched but she knew better than to defy Aemond’s orders.

“You have the temperaments of a high born lady.” Sylvie said, head tilted as she admired the beauty you were blessed with. “No wonder I was told to take care of you.”

There was not a mark on your face, like you'd been blessed by the seven themselves. You were a piece of art and how she'd gotten you ready only made you appear like Venus, the goddess of love and sex, fertility even.

Sylvie left the room, to attend to her guests but not before warning you. “Do not leave this room, girl. There are wolves out there and they won't hesitate to rip you to shreds. You are safe here.”

You felt chills at her words, well aware of the atrocities men committed here with women.

You chewed on your lip, knees brought to your chest as you hugged them tightly while your arms wrapped around them. You wanted to cry, you missed your brothers and your mother. Being her only daughter, you knew her whole being resided within you and you wished to send a letter at least about your whereabouts.

She surely would come to save you.

Confused, scared and cornered, you stayed glued to your position.

Then the room door opened and a man entered. Your head lifted up from your knee pads and you backed into the wall seeing how drunk this man was. His wobbly walk told you he had more than enough to drink and now he was staggering towards you.

“I knew that bitch was hiding something here.” He said, a sick grin on his face and your eyes widened upon catching a glimpse of the man's hands that were extended to grab a hold of you. “Such a pretty girl like you should be downstairs, not here. But then it's good you're here. I get to have you all for myself.”

“Touch me and I will make you wish you were never born.” You spat, a venom in your tone as your posture shifted.

You were on guard and you had always trained under your step father, Daemon. You knew how to defend yourself, as well as take down a life if you had to. There was nothing in this world that you would not do to protect yourself and when the man's flimsy endeavor to grab you slipped, you rolled over the bed to reach for the cup of wine.

You swallowed.

You had trained but you never once had to fight someone to save your life, dignity and honor.

This was real, this was what you had trained for.

Adrenaline pumped through your blood, since the man was evidently twice your delicate size. You watched with a sharp gaze as he scoffed, reaching for you. Before his hands could come in contact with your exposed shoulders, you struck down the man's hand with the sharp edge of the wine glass.

He let out a scream, nearly succumbing to his knees. “You fucking bitch.”

You stared as blood soaked his clothes, the cut deep and brutal on his hand. This only encouraged his lust for you, an anger igniting in his eyes. He seemed pretty sober now as he got back up and slammed you against the wall with newfound force.

“Fucking whore. You don't have to act this hard to get. I swear I'll pay more than what the others do.” His words were like salt to the wound, as he held you over the wall. You had nothing on him now, as the man buried his face into your neck.

He sniffed, satisfied with the scent of the oils staining your skin. Before his lips could come in contact with your skin, the door slammed open and you saw Aemond.

The moment he laid his gaze on you, in such a horrible and disgusting situation, something inside him snapped. His jaw tightened and Aemond forgot that he was in a brothel and causing a scene could put you in danger.

You felt the force of the man disappear as Aemond pulled him off you, pinning him to the ground with his knee into his neck. You watched as your uncle delivered punch after punch, ruining the set of very basic features on his face.

“How dare you lay your filthy hands on her? On her, of all people?” His voice was loud as for each word, a taut punch was sent to the man's face.

Sylvie entered the room, in a panicked state, witnessing the disheveled state of both Aemond and you in front of him. She recognized the man as one of her clients and when Aemond caught her in his eye, he stood up and grabbed the woman by her throat, pressing her into the wall.

He leaned in, darkness imposing a threat. “I gave you one fucking job, and you failed.”

“I-I swear I don't know how he found her. My Prince believe me, I-I would never misplace something you told me to take care of.”

You watched the whole scene unfold, with blurring tears in your eyes, a soft sniffle escaping you. The man's touch was disgusting and it still lingered over your shoulders, the stains of blood tainting the purity of your skin. You could not believe what was going on, all you knew that Aemond was aware of your whereabouts which could only mean one thing; he himself put you here. Was this how low the Greens were willing to go, to win the war? By tainting the Queen’s reputation and putting you in a brothel for commoners to use and throw?

“Get out of my fucking sight and hand this fucking filth to my guards. I will see what it is to be done of him.” Aemond elucidated each word for the woman and she nodded, grabbing the man and dragging him out. “And bring me some water and a clean cloth.” His head turned in your direction, gaze locking with your blurred one.

You were still frozen in that position, not being able to move an inch. Your body had stilled from how sudden and scary everything was.

Aemond took a step towards now that you two were alone and you flinched. “Please don't.”

He stilled, staring at you. You were close to breaking apart, he could see it. Tears falling down in small streams, glistening over the golden glow of the candle casting on your face.

“I would never force myself upon you.” He said, almost offended that you would expect something like that from him in the first place. He was cold, stoic, he knew but did you really see him in such a horrible light? It bothered him when it should not have, it shouldn't matter what you have got to say or think about him.

“Did you throw me in here as revenge for your eye, Uncle?” You spoke, throat feeling like it was being prickled by needles because of how much you were holding yourself back from breaking into a fit of sobs and tears.

He raised a brow and then proceeded to scoff. “You really do see me as some tyrant.”

“You chased me on your dragon and made me fall, I could have died!” You shouted, taking a step forward. Your sadness had transformed into anger, and now your tears were flowing freely. A ton of emotions overwhelming your little frame and Aemond saw it.

The tick in his jaw grew, fists still clenched and blood dripping from them. “But you didn't. I found you and I brought you here to keep you safe—”

“Safe? Safe?! You brought me here, to this god forsaken place to keep me safe? Just say it, Uncle.” You fumed, stepping up to the man you once feared. “You wanted to humiliate me. You want me to get used, be some common man's whore.”

Aemond’s patience was running thin and when he imagined you as a whore, it ran out right before you. His feet moved with such ability as he marched in your direction, slamming you against the corner, palms glued to the wall. He breathed down your face, his sharp chin brushing against yours.

Your breath hitched, being this close to your Uncle was completely new and you were rendered speechless.

“The greens will hold you hostage.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “They will parade you around on a fucking horse for the whole of King's Landing to bear witness.”

You stared into his one eye, chest rising up and down as suddenly your body had forgotten how to lure in some air. “Could've taken me home.”

“They would take me hostage for the cause of your injured state.” He whispered, in a much softer tone. “There was nowhere for me to take you in your current state, only here.”

“A brothel, Uncle.” You said, tears once again threatening to spill and they did. Your soft sniffles echoing in the room, remembering what the man had done and how filthy his touch felt. You felt defiled and he hadn't even done something worse, something that could never be taken back. Your bloodied shoulders shook violently from how much you were crying, body going slump and Aemond quickly held you in his arms, not allowing you to succumb to the floor.

His strong arms held you — with overbearing strength, holding you whilst you cried.

In truth, you hated every bit of this war. Things were much better before the death of your grandsire, King Viserys. The crown made people greedy, the more they looked at it. It possessed the type of power which was too overwhelming for anyone and everyone. Like a curse, it slowly poisoned the mind of its bearer. The same was happening with the Greens as they had usurped your mother's throne.

“You should've left me to die.” You managed to say through your broken cries.

Aemond released a bated breath. “It was never my intention for something as grave as that to happen. It was merely an attempt to intimidate you.”

You understood him. Despite all this fucked up shit, you did. You had taken his eye out, left him disabled. His siblings had all their parts but Aemond felt empty, he felt incomplete and you had played a big part in it. Both of you had realized your mistakes a long time ago yet no one owned up to it, no one possessed the courage to reach out the other for closure.

You never apologized for the bullying encouraged by his brother, he never apologized for assaulting your brothers. You never apologized for taking his eye and he never apologized for attempting to intimidate you with his dragon — which made you suffer a great loss. Remotely close to his.

“Arrax,” you sobbed, in the arms of the man who was the cause of your state. “my poor dragon. He was so scared, I could feel it. He was afraid.”

Aemond wanted to apologize. He wanted to because he was aware of a rider’s bond with its dragon. Yet no words left his mouth, his palm running up and down your back rather awkwardly. He had absolutely no idea on what to do with you now. Your forehead was pressed into his chest as you sobbed.

But then you looked up at him, with a piercing gaze. “You are as childish and as pathetic the day I took your fucking eye out, Aemond.” This time you did not address him as your uncle and your words riled him up even more. You were at his mercy, you should not have played with fire like that and Aemond snapped.

“I'm pathetic?” He asked with darkness behind his tone. “You're the one pinned neath me. I could easily have you, take my revenge.”

“You're going to take my eye out, Uncle? Do it. Finish it, once and for all.” You seethed through gritted teeth, glaring at him. Aemond tightened his hold on your frail wrists causing you to wince and flinch. He restrained both hands with one of his and moved the other to grasp your chin, fingers dimpling in your cheeks. “No, I will take something more precious, something that is worth more than an eye to a maiden such as yourself.”

“You wouldn't.” You said, shaking your head after realizing what he was hinting at. You knew the significance of your maidenhood and Aemond was going to hurt you right where it hurt the most. “I am your niece, you would not.”

“Did your mother not marry her uncle, Gevives?” (Beauty)

You flinched at the way his voice dropped when he spoke high valyrian. The situation you were in didn't help either, with Aemond’s whole body weight on top of you but enough to not crush you. The room elevated with tension as you opened your mouth to protest but a knock on the door interrupted you both.

“Come in.”

The door parted, revealing Sylvie along with a cloth in her hand and a bucket of clean water.

“Leave it on the table.” Aemond commanded, not paying her any mind and the woman obliged before leaving the room.

Your uncle reached for the cloth, soaking it into the water. You struggled, squirming in his tenacious grip and all Aemond did was keep his eye on you while he soaked the fabric fully into the water. Once it was soaked enough, he pulled it out and leaned down, face only a few inches apart from yours. Your breath got stuck in your throat.

He swiped the cloth over the blood stains on your collarbones, gently and carefully. The action itself caused arousal to pool in your cunt, your thighs squeezing together and Aemond felt it. He let out a breath, sending it to tingle your skin and you gasped out at how close he was to you.

“The idea of someone else's blood on you vexes me.” Aemond confessed, moving the fabric down to the cups of your small shoulders. He swiped it across the skin, watching as your skin became free from the taints of filth.

You licked your lips, breath ragged. “You have gone insane, Uncle.”

“I have, maybe I truly have.” Aemond’s eye was focused on the sharp bone embedded in your skin, known as your collarbone. His desires were taking the best of him and he hated himself for it. You were his niece, the same little girl who took his fucking eye out and is now his enemy — the same girl who would betray him in a heartbeat for her mother.

Abandon him for her pretender of a mother.

Yet the man did not care enough to stop whatever he was doing.

“How will you take something more precious when it is painfully obvious who is the more experienced brother, according to the rumors of the Keep.” You hissed and Aemond inhaled, a serpent you'd become in such a short span. Aemond stopped cleaning your skin, since he was finished and tossed the fabric aside.

His fingers clamped around your chin. “Keep your mouth fucking shut. You are only tempting me, niece.”

It was obviously a warning but you could not back out, not when you had held hostility all your life towards him. “For all I know, I am not even of your nature. I have heard you like them older, my Prince.” A mischievous smirk ceased your features. It was all a facade to come off strong. “Like her. Is she the one you visit in brothels? You know her too well.”

“Shut your fucking mouth before I shove my cock in it. Would you like that, hm? You're probably a pathetic little slut exactly like your mother.” Aemond threatened, suppressing the urge to strike his hand over your cheek. His grip on your chin tightened, his fingers craning your face up as his breath mingled with yours.

“How sad that the one who is putting all his effort in winning the war was never bound to get the throne nor become the object of his mother's affections.” You taunted and that hit Aemond where you wanted it to hit. “How does it feel, Uncle? To not receive an ounce of love from both your father and mother.”

“At least I am not a bastard.” He spat, and you knew that was coming. It was their one valid argument after all. “I might be a bastard but both my mother and father cherish me, love me, for who I was, for what I am. You are a sad, pathetic case.”

Aemond’s hand moved to your hair, grabbing a fistful of it and pulling you over to the bed to toss you on it like some ragdoll. You gasped when your frail body collided against the bed, feeling it bounce a little. Your brows furrowed as you turned around to face him but Aemond was already standing before you, his knee dipping into the bed.

“Let’s see if that mouth of yours can still produce coherent words when I am fucking your sweet cunt.” Breath uneven and lips shuddering, you stared at him as he pushed aside the curtains of the bed and maneuvered inside, crawling on top of you.

You tried to run, a feeble and failed attempt at escaping from the dragon you had awakened. Aemond locked you in place by one hand around your leg, pinning you down against the bed. His harsh actions made you miss the man in who's arms you had cried and how gently he held you, like you were a lover and not the one he despised the most.

“Even though you never apologized, I forgive you.” He whispered, reaching for his eye and removing the patch to reveal the familiar sapphire again. A reminder of the events that took place between you two.

You felt horrible, guilt overpowering and over consuming. “You threatened me with a stone. I was only protecting myself and my brother.”

“You humiliated me, at every chance you and that bastard brother of yours got. Were the indignities caused by my brother not enough that you two had to join in?” His tone was almost sad and you realized how awfully you had been to him, all for the sake of momentarily fun. The picture from his side was painted cruelly and your lips shivered.

Was apologizing going to be enough?

Is it going to be enough when your uncle was on top of you, about to commit the most vilest of crime.

“I'm sorry.” Came a wholehearted whisper from you, a sad expression adorning your face. “It is not enough to bring your eye back or take back everything and you do not have—”

“I told you, I forgive you.” He said, his hand cupping your shoulder, fingers tugging underneath the sleeve hanging around your arm. “But you must be punished. You must face the consequences of your own actions.”

“Uncle, we were children.” You attempted to justify but that was like sprinkle of fuel to the fire.

Aemond pulled your sleeve, causing it to rip and your eyes widened in horror. His other hand ripped the other sleeve as he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your lips. You were not only terrified but weirdly aroused too. Your uncle's anger was obvious but the subtle change between his rough tugs and gentle kisses left you light headed as well as overwhelmed. You breathed in, and then released it, in hopes that he would calm down but Aemond was too far gone.

“Uncle, stop it.” He tried to push at his chest.

Aemond grabbed your wrists, locking them over his chest. “I will only stop once I put a silver haired bastard inside you.”

“Fucking me in a whorehouse, putting a bastard in me. You have truly planned this out, no?” You said, putting up a strong facade but deep down you were scared. You did not wish to give birth to a bastard, knowing you yourself were one. Born out of wedlock to your mother and her guard, sir Harwin strong.

You knew how badly were they treated and the thought of giving birth to one pained you.

“Would you be so cruel to put a babe in me and then abandon it?” You asked — staring up at him with glossy eyes. You writhed in his hold but to no avail as his one hand clamped over your wrist while the other moved to tug at your neckline, causing your breasts to spill out.

Aemond hissed. He'd realized you had grown now and you were not the same little girl who helped his brother make his life a living hell. Your nipples rosy and hardened and he sighed, fondling the plush fat. “The image of you walking around dragonstone with my silver haired bastard tugging at the skirt of your dress, demanding attention. A reminder of what his father did to you swells my cock.”

“Get off me. You're fucking mad if you think I would carry your children.” Your endeavors to fight him were a lost cause, trying to land punches at his chest but they were gone in vain. Aemond had control, he had power over you by being stronger, more muscular. “I will drink moon tea. You cannot force me to have your child."

“Then I must keep you here and breed you every single night until you are swollen with my babe.”

He got off you and flipped you on your stomach, hands covetously ripping apart the expensive chiffon dress, revealing your bare back. Your small shoulders trembling and chills dancing down the small of your back when the cold air brushed against your skin.

“Stop it.” It came out muffled as Aemond buried your face into the mattress.

Not only had he intended to fuck you, he was going to do it like you were some common whore. Either taking you on your back or on your stomach. You bit back a soft cry as his fingertips danced across your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Tears glossed your vision and you let out a tentative whimper when his hand groped a handful of your plush ass.

“It is time to pay the consequences of your actions, Bastard.” Aemond’s words were hoarse making you flinch.

He had locked you in place with his own body and soon enough he also stripped himself off his attire. You could not see, but you could hear the metallic jingling of his sword and dagger against one another, his belt and briefs shuffling together. Aemond’s hand flew back to grip your nape, forcing your face deeper into the pillow.

Your body was not fully bare as his, some aspects still covered by the tethered pieces of fabric.

Aemond reached over and hoisted you up into his arms, pushing your body on your palms and knees. Despite your struggle and continuous objection, he still managed to put you in the most degrading position ever. You were like a fucking animal — ass pushed out for him and the tears finally fell. His fingers dug into the side of your hips, holding you in place.

“I hate you, I fucking hate you.”

Your constant expressions of your loathsome did not bother Aemond in the slightest. Your mouth did not matter to him, it was your cunt that did. He didn't even mind to prepare you, all he did was align his hardened leaking tip at your soaked hole and pushed. Loud grunts and high pitched whimpers tore through you both as you felt him breach your maidenhead and defile you with determination. Bittersweet pain had blossomed in between your thighs, your cunt a bleeding mess but Aemond continued, pushing his cock furthermore until he was fully sheathed inside your walls.

“The cunt of a bastard is surely more pleasurable than a whore's. I shouldn't let you go to dragonstone, I should make you my personal little whore. For me to use and breed.”

Your cries of pain and broken sobs did not falter him as he relished them — enjoying the way your hiccups sounded. Frail and light, allowing him to have the pleasure of revenge he was denied off all his life. But not anymore, as he had you right where he wanted. This humiliation was much better than taking your eye out.

“A-Aemond,” you sobbed mindlessly, trying to wriggle out of his grasp which lead it to grow firmer. “hurts, please it hurts. Be gentle, please for the Gods.”

You knew that begging him to stop was futile but maybe if you begged enough for him to be gentle, he would be kind enough to not ravage you like some beast. Your broken little sobs worked in your favor as Aemond allowed you a few moments to adjust to the sheer size of his manhood, as he had forgiven you after all.

He did not loathe you.

He only wished for consequences, for revenge.

This was it.

Aemond lowered his face next to your ears, taut chest pressed over your sweaty spine as he whispered in your ear. “If I don't take you now, I would continue to harbor ill intentions for you. This is for the best.”

It was all a lie, a way to manipulate you.

You nodded, finally succumbing and Aemond felt a strong overwhelming sense of victory wash over him.

He slowly pulled out of you before drilling back inside you, repeatedly and over the course of him pummeling his cock inside you, you became a writhing, blubbering mess. It was too much for your little body as Aemond continuously fucked his cock into you. Built like him it was. Long, slender and you'd assumed it was as beautiful as him too.

Your hands were let go from their tight hold and you found them buried into the soft sheets, fingers intertwined with the pale pillows and sheets. Each thrust sent your body forwards and you whined, feeling his cock head bruise your cervix, aiming upwards for that perfect spot of yours.

“Oh!” Your eyes rolled back to your skull at one particular thrust, feeling him hit an area unexplored.

Aemond’s brows creased together, realizing he had finally found the sweet spot he was hunting for. His movement grew relentless, in fast, deep drills he abused that sensitive area as he watched you ascend deeper into the stairs to heaven. Your knuckles had gone white from the strong hold and your knees shivered from Aemond’s force.

“If you'd given yourself up to me like this, I would not have had to hunt you to satisfy my thirst for revenge.” Aemond panted, his words accompanied by loud striking sounds of skin meeting skin. “You should have visited my chambers when you took my fucking eye out. Should have stripped naked, spread your legs for me to take your sweet cunt.”

“Please, stop,” came a broken murmur from you, wishing to forget about that god forsaken night. “d–didn't want to do it, didn't want to hurt you. I was scared, was terrified of Vhagar.”

“But you did. You took out my eye, left me hideous.” Aemond had always felt monstrous, empty and incomplete. These feelings were all gifted by you and now he wanted you to feel the same.

Left incomplete, defiled and empty.

Aemond’s hand moved down to grab a fistful of your hair from the roots, pulling up until you two were one body. His chest over your spine, as he fucked himself into you, deep and vigorous strokes. Tears streamed in tiny rivulets down your face, as Aemond circled another arm around your breasts, holding you in place to fuck you like you were some doll made for his sickly pleasures.

You made the grave mistake of moving your head and found him already staring at you. Lips parted, letting out breathless little pants and the sapphire danced in his empty socket, a reminder of your actions. He saw you, close and noticed all the features littered across your face. The freckles over your nose, the dark strands clinging to your perspired forehead and the way your nose scrunched up whenever he thrusted inside you. Gods, you were a heavenly sight, one that only he was fortunate enough to witness.

Aemond fought back the urge to claim your lips in a kiss — that action too intimate, than using your cunt to satisfy his hunger.

But eventually caved in as he took your lips into an aggressive lock, a firm kiss it was. He bite and licked at your lips, shoving a wet tongue past the pair and slithering inside like a snake. You whined, hoping that he would slow down but Aemond devoured you like a starved mad man. Teeth clashing with teeth, tongue battling with tongue, he swallowed all the little sounds you produced. His gruesome kiss had left you lightheaded when he pulled back to look at you.

In a daze you appeared.

Aemond stared at your swollen lips while you gazed upon his lips, dumbfounded and taken aback by his sudden desire to kiss you like a beast.

“I-I don't find you hideous.” It was a whimper but it caused his thrusts to stall, coming to a halt. He stared at you, surprised by your words and his stomach burned in anticipation knowing well enough you would say something worse.

But what you said next left him astonished and with a newly ignited desire. “I think you're.. pretty, prettier than Aegon.”

You couldn't compare him to your brothers as the famous targaryen features were not shared amongst them but Aegon had the same features as Aemond yet you have always found him the most prettiest Targaryen man ever. He was slim, but not in a bad way — he had the right amount of muscles and perfect height. Aemond possessed the type of beauty which did not decrease by losing an eye.

“A lie.” He growled, shaking his head.

You looked at him with the most innocent doe eyes. “I mean it. Losing an eye did not make you hideous, Aemond. You are still as beautiful as ever.”

He didn't respond and his impassive face told you that he was not phased by your genuine words but Aemond felt fucking butterflies nip at his stomach. His cock hardened even more if that were possible and he dropped you on the bed, continuing his assault. His hips snapped deliberately inside you, with newfound vigor and strength. You gasped out, your gummy walls tightening around his length as he drilled his cock inside you.

The compliment, the validation he'd received from you and how genuine it was — it drove him mad. Even his own mother failed to comfort him but you, the fucking preparator out of all people managed to. It angered him but also soothed over the burn you'd left.

Aemond felt his peak near, dancing around him and soon he reached it — his hips stuttering and his hot seed spurting inside you in ropes. “Fuck, fuck. I should fill you up and leave you here. A fucking whore with a Targaryen bastard.” You felt him taint your insides, leaving a mark that would always linger like how you'd left a scar on his face. Feeling his seed fill you up, you also unravelled as Aemond fucked the hot fluid into your womb, making sure you end up with a babe of his own.

Your eyes saw white and your thighs twitched, knees giving out and body finally colliding into the sheets. Yet Aemond continued thrusting, the wet squelching sound of your peak mixed with his grossing you out. Your tears had dried so more were released, going the same route as the ones from before.

You couldn't even resist anymore, nor rebel.

Aemond pulled his softened cock out of you and watched as your destroyed, gaping hole threw up his spent. It was hot and he shuddered at the thought of you swollen with his child.

He should've hated the idea of your breasts leaking with milk for his babe, swollen and peaked but instead he found himself aching to witness it in real life, not some fucked up imagination. He couldn't take you, as badly as he wished to. You were not his to keep but he was letting you go with a piece of him inside your womb.

He laid with you, but you'd not expected him to lay an arm over your small waist. Your body spent and completely frail from his monstrosity but Aemond wished for more, he craved more yet he gave you time to rejuvenate and collect yourself.

“Did you mean it?”

You raised your gaze at him, bemused.

“A-About me, being pretty. Did you mean it or was that also to deceive me?” He asked, failing to make eye contact. He stared ahead at the ceiling and you nodded your head slowly, throat parched. “I did. I would not lie about that.”

His chest swell up with an unfathomable feeling, something beyond his own understanding as he pulled you closer to him, subconsciously. Aemond was in a dilemma, confused about what had to be done. He wanted to be more cruel, more horrible but it was not in him to show you more cruelty than you deserved.

[serpentandlily]

Lost in a Labyrinth - Azriel x Reader

Lost in a Labyrinth I - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Lonely and heartbroken after his near kiss with Elain, Azriel finds himself at the door to the most exclusive pleasure house in Hewn City, The Labyrinth, taking Rhysand’s cruel advice. What he expected to find was a pretty girl to warm a bed with him for a single night. But instead he finds something he never thought existed—his mate. A mate that is tangled up in something far more sinister than he could ever imagine. 

Warnings: smut (minors dni), reader is a prostitute

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part I

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“So you will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure house and pay for it, but stay away from her.” 

Rhysand’s words had played over and over again in his head since the Winter Solstice, three months ago. Azriel wasn't sure why he was taking him up on his shitty advice now but by some will of his own, he was standing in the shadows of the alley across the street from The Labyrinth—Hewn City’s most exclusive brothel. 

Azriel only knew of this place because some of the high ranking nobles he spied on talked about it often. It was known for its secrecy, for making sure their clientele had confidentiality. There were far more pleasure houses that were known to the public, even one in Velaris, but the last thing Azriel wanted was word getting around that he had been seen visiting one. Partly because he liked keeping his love affairs secret, but mostly because he didn’t want to give that satisfaction to Rhysand. 

When his shadows came back with no reports of any sightings of faeries nearby, Azriel crossed the distance to The Labyrinth. He knocked five times on the plain looking, unassuming door, following the instructions he had overheard. 

A sliding peephole opened revealing a pair of dark eyes. “A bargain, Shadowsinger,” a male voice said through the door. “A copper for your eyes.”

“A silver for your tongue,” Azriel agreed. He felt a burning sensation behind his ear, the bargain tattoo forming. 

This was another thing he had learned from spying— the secret bargain that would grant you access to The Labyrinth. A bargain that he wouldn’t speak of the people and things he might see here so long as they kept their silence in regards to his identity. 

The door swung open a second later and the male guard ushered him in. The guard gave him a once over, his eyes stopping on the dagger sheathed on his thigh. 

“No weapons allowed, Shadowsinger,” the guard ordered. “Especially around the girls.”

Azriel wordlessly unsheathed Truth-teller and let his shadows take it away. He didn’t tell the guard that it was pointless, that he could summon it back at any time regardless of whatever wards they had set up around here—his shadows didn’t abide by the typical rules of magic. But the guard didn’t need to know that. 

The guard held out a gloved hand. “The entrance fee.”

Azriel reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch filled with coins. He set it in the guard’s palm without question. 

The guard gave him a dip of the head, satisfied, before gesturing for him to continue on. Azriel strided down the dim hallway. He could already smell various aphrodisiacs and drugs amongst the intoxicating scent of arousal in the air. It spurred him on, kept his feet moving on the dark red carpet, not allowing him the chance to second guess his decision to come here. 

He wasn’t sure what magic was at play, or if they specifically scented the hallway to further get their clients in the mood, but something was tugging him forward. 

He finally made it to the other end of the hallway, where a black door was awaiting him. He opened it slowly, cautiously and when no threat appeared, stepped through the threshold. The door opened up into a large foyer of sorts with a large candle chandelier hanging from the ceiling. 

Straight ahead was a grand staircase that led to the second floor. On both sides of the foyer were large double doors with masked guards standing in front of them, swords strapped to their backs.

Waiting for him in the center of the room was an older, High Fae female with generous curves, dressed decadently. A polite smile graced her pretty but aging face as she took him in. 

“Shadowsinger,” she greeted with a dip of the head, her hands clasped in front of her. “Welcome to The Labyrinth. My name is Lydia. I will be your point of contact during your time here. Please follow me, I will show you to the girls so you may make your selection.” 

This wasn’t the first time Azriel had visited a pleasure house. Gods, when they were younger, him, Rhysand and Cassian had gone to some together. Had even taken the same girl once. But this felt…different. The atmosphere was soft, sensual—not rowdy like the other brothels he had been to. 

He followed Lydia into the first set of double doors, which led down another long corridor with more doors lining the wall, all numbered. Until they reached the end where another set of double doors waited. As soon as Lydia pushed them open and gestured for him to continue, soft music crept through the air.

Azriel walked into a heavily perfumed room, dimly lit much like everywhere else in this place. Dark red, velvet settees and cushions lined the walls and floors. Silks hanging from the ceilings gave each space a bit of privacy. A bar was on the opposite wall, fully stocked with various alcohols. Males and females, alike, were milling about the room in various states of undress, some paired up on the couches and chairs. 

At the front of the room was a wall made entirely of glass that overlooked a courtyard. Hanging plants and flowered vines decorated the space. A large fountain bubbled in the middle of it. Girls in lingerie and silk robes sat on the stone benches and cushions on the floor, lingered near the fountain, danced to the soft music in corners of the courtyard—all giggling and chattering with each other.

“These are the girls in The Labyrinth,” Lydia explained. “If you would like to see our selection of males, let me know.” 

His eyes wandered over the girls, all so beautiful and unique. Every single type of fae was here—from nymphs to firelings to High Fae. But his gaze was drawn towards a lone figure in one of the second story alcoves. 

His breath was sucked from his lungs the minute his eyes fell on her. She was…she was so beautiful. The most beautiful female he had ever seen in his five hundred years of living. She was dressed in a light pink lingerie set, a sheer robe hanging over it with white fur trims. She was alone, resting an elbow on the stone railing with her chin plopped in her hand as she gazed out into the carved mountainside within Hewn City. 

He couldn’t rip his eyes away from her. 

“Are any of them suited to your tastes, Shadowsinger?” Lydia questioned from beside him, knocking him out of whatever spell he had been put under. 

“Her,” he answered, his voice a mere whisper, as he dipped his head towards the female he couldn’t help but stare at. 

Lydia murmured something to one of the masked servants walking around with trays of champagne flutes. A moment later, one returned and handed the female a slip of paper. She clicked her tongue at whatever she read. 

“Apologies, Shadowsinger,” she said, “But it looks like she’s already been chosen for tonight. Do any—”

“By who?” Azriel growled before he even realized, his shadows whirling around him. Lydia looked up at him with a stern look that accentuated all the fine lines on her face. 

“You know I can’t tell you that,” she chided. Azriel gave her a sheepish look, not knowing what had come over him. “It looks like any of the other girls are still up for the taking if you’d like to choose another?” 

But Azriel couldn’t stop staring at the girl in the pink. Couldn’t help but be mesmerized by her. None of the other girls caught his attention. He had come here looking for a quick, no strings attached, fuck but that desire, that need—it was like it had been sucked right out of him. 

“I…” he trailed off, suddenly reeling back into his body. Lydia was staring up at him expectedly but he took a step away. “N-no. I’m sorry. I should…I should go.” 

Not a second later, his shadows swirled around him, whisking him away. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Azriel wasn’t sure what drew him back to The Labyrinth the next night. Or the night after. Each time he came, he asked for that girl in pink, and each time, he was told she had already been booked for the night. It would’ve been easy to accompany Mor to Rita’s and find a plethora of females that would fuck him for free. But none of them would’ve been her. 

He wasn’t even sure why he was becoming so obsessed with a girl he’d never even talked to. Obsessed enough to travel to Hewn City, pay the copious entrance fee, just to leave when he was told she was still not available. 

But here he was. 

Again. 

Standing at the doors to The Labyrinth. 

It had become such a reoccurrence that Lydia would merely shake her head no at the sight of him, already knowing what he was there for. He was sure tonight would go more or less the same. But he was surprised when he caught sight of Lydia standing in the large, intricate foyer and she shook her head yes. 

“Well, Shadowsinger,” she said, “I admire your persistence. It seems it is your lucky day. The girl you’ve been waiting for is available. Please, continue on up the stairs and into The Labyrinth. She will be waiting for you behind the ninth door.” 

Azriel gave her a dip of the head before striding past her to the staircase. His shadows were swarming him—excited about something. He tuned them out, pushing open the black doors waiting for him at the top of the stairs. 

He paused for a second, feeling like he had suddenly been transported somewhere else. Instead of one long hallway like he’d been expecting, the doors opened to a maze of large pillars, multiple pathways lit by candles placed on the floor. 

He sent his shadows forward to scout the place and locate the ninth door that Lydia had mentioned. He followed their trail which led him to a red door with a number nine painted on it in a darker shade of red that looked suspiciously like blood. 

He let out the breath he had been holding as he wrapped his scarred fingers around the doorknob and slowly pushed it open. 

Slow, sultry music met his ears and the scent of pomegranates and cardamom flooded his senses. It was intoxicating, beckoning him forward. He softly shut the door behind him before he completely paused in his tracks as he turned to face the room. 

There, standing with her back to him, was the girl who had been utterly consuming his mind since he had first laid eyes on her. She was wearing a light pink nightgown that laced down her lower back. She was bent forward slightly, lighting a candle on a coffee table set up in front of a pair of red velvet couches. 

His eyes trailed over the room for a second, trying to gather his bearings. It was a large room, large enough to have a sitting area separate from the four-poster bed covered in silk and textured fabrics. Everything fit the same color scheme as the other rooms he’d been in, red and black. Lit only by candles, the soft lighting only added to the sultry atmosphere. 

Some smoke lingered in the air, making everything a bit more hazy. He recognized the scent as a popular aphrodisiac often used during parties with high nobility. His shadows seemed lulled by the music, drifting around him lazily as he stood in place. 

He stood frozen as she finally turned around and met his gaze. He had thought her beautiful that day he had seen her up on the balcony, but this close, well… beautiful was not strong enough of a word. She looked crafted for the Gods, a being not meant to walk alongside man. His breath was sucked right out of his lungs again, his eyes widened as his shadows reacted by lowering themselves onto the ground, leaving him bare. 

“There you are,” she purred, her voice as smooth as silk and honey. “I’ve heard you’ve been waiting for me.”

Azriel swallowed harshly, his throat bobbing with the motion. He watched her eyes track it, watched how her smirk slipped into a soft smile instead. He opened his mouth to speak, to say anything, but it was like no thoughts existed in his head except for an image of her. 

“A bit shy, are you?” She teased after he failed to speak, walking towards him and holding out a hand with well manicured nails. “That’s okay, my love, let me take care of you.” 

She grasped his hand in her much smaller one, not even flinching when her skin met contact with his brutal scars. He let her guide him to the couch and push him to sit, entranced by her very presence. She moved to the bar cart behind him, running a delicate hand over his shoulders as she did, before pouring two glasses of whiskey. 

She meandered back over to him, plopping on the couch next to him before handing him one of the glasses. She clinked her glass against his. “For the nerves, my love.”

Azriel wanted to tell her that he wasn’t nervous, but that would be a lie. He had no idea why he had been reduced to the shy teenage boy he had been in his youth but he couldn’t shake himself from the feeling. Her presence was overwhelming, intimidating. Like she somehow held his entire being in the palm of her hands. 

“Thank you,” he grunted out, his voice rough. He cleared his throat before downing his glass of whiskey in one go. She followed his lead, her smoky eyes never leaving his as she swallowed her whiskey. Beneath the exaggerated desire he found in them was a more calculating look, like she was trying to figure him out. 

A bit of the whiskey slipped out of the side of her mouth, dripping down her chin and neck to the crevice between her breasts. Azriel’s gaze followed it, his cock tightening in his pants as he wished to lick it off her gleaming skin. 

“Oops,” she giggled, swiping it up with a finger and sucking it into her mouth. “Would you like another glass?” 

He shook his head. He didn’t want to be drunk for this. He wanted to savor every second of his time with her, the girl who had been plaguing his thoughts night and day. 

“You seem tense, Shadowsinger,” she purred with a pout, making his eyes dip to her full, red painted lips. “I can fix that.” 

She reached forward and ran a slender hand up his chest and he nearly moaned at the feeling of her touching him. His hand latched onto hers, stopping it in its tracks. 

“What’s your name?” Azriel asked, finally speaking. He needed to know. Needed to taste the way it felt to say it on his tongue as much as he needed to taste her. 

“Serenity,” she replied with a coy smile. “But you can call me anything you like, my love.” 

His eyes searched hers. “That’s not your real name, is it?” 

“Of course not, darling,” she giggled. She leaned towards him, close enough that her breath fluttered over his ear. His cock twitched in his pants, his skin heated. “I think the real question is, what would you like me to call you, Shadowsinger?”

“Azriel,” he breathed out. “Just…just Azriel.” 

“Azriel,” she repeated in that voice of silk and honey. 

His eyes darted down to her lips again. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t help how turned on he felt. Was it the aphrodisiacs in the room? Or perhaps the whiskey had hit just right? He didn’t care. All he knew was he needed to have her. 

Azriel let go of her hand, letting her continue her travel up his chest until she grabbed the empty glass in his hand and set it down on the table in front of them. She made eye contact with him again, slowly moving to straddle him on the couch, wrapping her arms around his neck lightly. He bit back a groan as her weight fell on his hardening member.

“What is it you’re here for, Azriel?”

His brain couldn’t focus with her in his lap. Her eyes were so mesmerizing, her scent one he could get high off. His hands found her waist, the silk fabric of her nightgown so smooth against his rough skin. 

“You,” he whispered, honestly. Because that was the truth. He had seen her and knew he needed to have her. 

“I’m yours, Azriel,” she giggled. “Any way you want me.” 

If he were a better male, perhaps now would be the time he realized this might be a mistake. But he wasn’t a better male. He couldn’t be. Not when her body was pressed against his, not when she looked so beautiful staring up at him with her large, expressive eyes, and certainly not when his body was singing for her—hungering for her like she was the only sustenance he needed. 

So Azriel surged forward and kissed her. 

Lightning exploded, skittering over his skin, the moment his lips touched hers. He groaned at the feeling of their softness. She let out a small sigh as she kissed him back, melting in his lap, pressing herself closer to him. 

Azriel slid a hand up her exposed back until he grasped her by the back of the neck and tilted her head so he could deepen the kiss, finally taking control of the situation. His cock hardened painfully as she spread her legs further, allowing her heat to rub against him. 

He kissed her like a starved male, licking along her bottom lip, compelling her to part her lips for him. She let him consume her, let him slip his tongue into her mouth and taste her fully. 

So sweet. 

So divine. 

Azriel broke the kiss, letting her gasp for air. The scent of her arousal had his eyes rolling back in his head. Still holding her by the back of the neck, he twisted her head to the side and pressed his lips just below her ear before trailing down her jaw and to her delicate neck. 

She moaned, squirming in his lap and rubbing against his hard length, only spurring him on more. His other hand started working on unlacing her nightgown. His fingers fumbled over the ribbon, until finally, it came undone and fell, pooling at her waist. 

Azriel pulled back to look at her, now bare before him from the waist up. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly with her breathing, her eyes dilated and full of lust, her lips swollen. The perfect image of desire. 

“So beautiful,” he growled, before leaning forward and latching his mouth around her right nipple. She gasped, arching into his mouth as her hands fisted his hair. 

“Azriel,” she whimpered, pushing her hips down against his bulge. He growled again, thrusting his hips up to meet hers. 

His lips made a path back up to hers, taking her breasts in his palms as he kissed her deeply. She grinded down on his cock again, pulling a whine from the back of his throat that had her smiling against his lips. 

He wanted to take his time with her, wanting to draw this out as long as he could. But he knew he wouldn’t last. Not when the need to be in her was causing him to strain against his pants to the point of pain. 

Azriel stood, lifting her up with him with an arm under her ass and the other wrapped around her. He let his shadows swarm them, stepping out right in front of the bed. She was breathless as he dropped her onto the soft pillows and sheets, her hair fanning around her head like a halo. 

An Angel. 

That’s what she was. 

A godsdamn Angel. 

He couldn’t keep his hands off of her, running them down her body as he pulled her nightgown all the way off, leaving her entirely bare before her. She moved to sit up, reaching for the buttons of his shirt but he lightly grasped her throat in his hand and pushed her back down.

“How do you want me, Azriel?” She hummed, seductively, wrapping her hands around his wrist.

Azriel leaned down, running his nose along the column of her throat until his mouth was beside her ear. 

“First, I want you coming on my fingers,” he commanded, his voice husky with desire. “Then my tongue. And then my cock. Do you understand?”

She swallowed audibly, nodding her head. 

“Words, angel,” he smirked. “Use your words.” 

“Yes, Azriel, I understand,” she whimpered, the scent of her arousal peaking. 

He inhaled deeply before pulling away and dropping to his knees before her. She sat up on her elbows, letting out a small cry as he hooked his arms around her thighs and yanked her towards the end of the bed. 

Her sex was glistening with her want and Azriel groaned at the sight, unlacing his pants with one hand to relieve some pressure. He watched her as he dipped forward and ran his tongue up her slit, his eyes rolling back at the sweet taste of her. 

She tossed her head back with a moan, spreading her legs wider for him. Azriel didn’t waste any time. He sucked and licked at her clit with a hunger he’d never felt before, his cock twitching every time he drew out a moan or cry from her lips. 

True to his word, his finger swirled around her entrance, causing her hips to thrust closer and closer. He continued his ministrations as he slid a single finger inside of her, cursing as he felt how tight she was wrapped around him. 

“Azriel,” she cried out as he added a second finger before slowly thrusting in and out of her. “Fuck.” 

He continued to suck that spot that had her crying out, pure waves of euphoria crashing through her body. His fingers began to thrust inside of her faster and faster as her moans became more frequent.

“That’s it, angel,” he praised as she rutted against his fingers. “Fuck yourself with my fingers.” 

She whimpered, her movements frenzied as he latched his mouth back on her clit, sucking in rhythm with his fingers. One of her hands gripped his hair while the other fisted the sheets and she squirmed in pleasure until he pushed her over the edge. 

“Az…Azriel,” she cried, arching her back as flames licked their way through her body. “I’m gonna—”

Azriel didn’t stop, palming himself with his free hand as she orgasmed, pulsating around his fingers with a loud moan. He slipped his fingers out and replaced them with his tongue just in time to feel the aftershock ripple through her. 

She tried to pull his head away, but he didn’t relent. He needed her on his tongue, needed to fulfill the hunger inside of him. It wasn’t long before he had her screaming through her second orgasm, lapping at the wetness pooling between her thighs. Azriel didn’t let up as he rode out her orgasm with his tongue, not until her body was writhing in pleasure and she was begging him to stop. 

He stood, sticking one of the fingers covered in her juices into his mouth, eyes rolling back in his head as he groaned. “Gods, you taste so good.” 

He left her panting on the bed as he made quick work of ripping his clothes off. His eyes were black with lust, his shadows spilling all around him in his craze. Gods, he needed her so bad. Every piece of her. 

He climbed onto the bed, hovering over her and crashing his lips against hers. His tongue was still claiming her mouth as her hands roamed the muscles of his chest, sliding down to his cock. He groaned into her mouth as she ran her hand up and down his shaft. 

“Please,” she begged. 

“Please what, angel?” He nipped at her bottom lip. “What is it you want?” 

“Please fuck me, Azriel,” she whined. 

The noise that came out of his throat at her words was one he’d never made before. He sat back on his haunches, replacing her hand with his as he guided himself towards her entrance, rubbing up and down against the wetness that was waiting for him. 

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he slid himself inside of her slowly. She moaned as Azriel let out an animalistic growl at the feeling of her wrapped around him. It wasn’t until he was all the way in her when they both finally released a breath.

“Fuck,” he grunted, falling forward and peppering kisses along her throat. “You feel so good.”

She whimpered at his praise and felt him smirk against her neck before he started to finally move, pulling himself all the way out her before thrusting back in, faster this time. She cried out as he slammed into her.

Azriel set a punishing pace, thrusting into her again and again. His shadows seeped from him until nearly every crevice of the room was taken over by his darkness. 

Her nails raked down his back, between his wings as she let him take her. He claimed her mouth again, passionately swallowing each moan he pulled from her. Her hips began to meet his with each thrust, pushing him deeper and deeper inside of her. 

“Gods, Azriel,” she cried, squeezing around him as he hit that sweet spot inside her. 

“Are you going to come on my cock, angel?” he cooed. 

“Yes,” she mewled. “Yes, gods, yes.” 

“Good girl,” he growled, nipping at her throat with his canines. 

His words pushed her over the edge into the hot bliss of pleasure. She screamed his name as the lightning shot through her, her core pulsating with each strike.

“Fuck,” Azriel groaned. He rode out her orgasm and then his thrusts became harder, faster but sloppy with no rhythm as his own release slid up on him.

His tongue swirled around the base of her neck before an utterly feral growl ripped through him. And then he bit down on that spot. His canines ripped through the skin, sinking down into her flesh as he came, thrusting once, twice and one final time—burying himself in her. 

They both panted in silence for a moment, coming down from their highs before Azriel slowly slipped out of her with a small whimper. He pulled away from her and she smiled up at him, her eyes glazed with pleasure and satisfaction. 

And then something happened. Something he never thought would. Something he had only dreamed about but never wished for because he had thought it a waste of breath. 

A golden string of light unwound itself and shot across the darkness, all the way to the beautiful girl before him. 

The mating bond snapped. 

His mating bond.

Azriel let out a choked noise, rising fully. He stumbled back in shock, his eyes wide as he stared down at her. Her brows furrowed in confusion and she sat up. 

Fuck, his mate…

She was his mate.

His godsdamn mate. 

This couldn’t be happening. Not like this. Not after he had just paid her to have sex with him. Not after he had come here for a shameless fuck. She’d never want him now. Why would she? 

He hastily began picking up his discarded clothes and dressing himself. She did the same in her confusion, slipping her nightgown back on as she frowned at him. 

“What happened?” Her voice was meek as she hugged an arm around herself, looking at him. “Have I…have I done something wrong?”

“N-no,” he stuttered, not looking her in the eyes. Gods, she would hate him if he told her now. She would not want anything to do with him. “No, I’m sorry. I-I need to go.” 

“But you paid for the whole night,” she said, perplexed with a hint of insecurity. “Please, if I wasn’t good…if you didn’t enjoy it…I can do better, I swear it.” 

He finally looked at her, at his mate. His heart sank in his chest at her words. Fuck, he was making this worse. He couldn’t stand the sight of her looking at him like she’d done something wrong. She was perfect. She had been perfect. It was him who fucked up.

“No, no, don’t. It’s not you," Azriel tried to reassure her. “I…it’s me. I need to go. I’m so sorry.” 

“At least let me get you your money back,” she said, rubbing her arm. He felt sick to his stomach.

“No! No, please keep it,” he murmured, buttoning up his shirt as fast as he could. “I’m…I’m so sorry. This was a mistake.”

And then he disappeared in his shadows, her confused and hurt face the last thing he saw. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

a/n: so obvious this was entirely from Az's perspective but it will be reader y/n just in case it wasn't super obvious! Hope you guys enjoyed it! If you asked to be tagged but don't see your username, it wouldn't let me tag you for some reason :((

(also, now that the whole chapters out, if this isn't what you thought you were signing up for, no hard feelings if you asked to be removed from the taglist)

taglist: @itsswritten @impossibelle @lilah-asteria @heartless-tate @sheblogs @jesskidding3 @landofpetrichor @thecollegecowgirl @5onedirection5 @cherry-cin @fayeatheart @brieflyclassymortal @saltedcoffeescotch @glitterypirateduck @eyebagsanonymous @chxosangxl @daardyrnitta

[daycourtofficial]

I am ash from your fire

Summary: Eris retires after a long night to find his mate, the princess of the night court, in his chambers upset.

Author’s note: Rhys is a jackass in this one. Honestly this was supposed to be Eris comforting reader but idk how it flipped at some point and sometimes you just gotta go with where the story takes you 🤷🏼‍♀️ also I’m headcannoning that Eris reads anything and everything he can get his hands on

(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)

Eris feels his shoulders sag ever so slightly, allowing the formalities of his stature to soften slightly as he moves further into his private chambers.

The only place in the Forest House he can at least somewhat relax. The hues of brown coating the walls, the paintings of hounds and forests covering the walls have been a comfort since his youth.

It was one of the few places Beron never entered. The High Lord would never sully himself by entering into his children’s chambers. No, he’d have word sent to them so they can come to him.

Eris walks towards the bookshelves, long fingers softly gliding over the edges of the leather bindings. His personal library was extensive - books of maps, histories, biographies, all subjects expected of a first-born heir. But also books of poetry, fantasy, and intrigue.

Eris was always a voracious reader, that need for escapism a constant in his life. His hands move on their own accord, searching for something to lose himself in when his ears perk up at a noise in his bedchambers. Unsheathing a dagger from his hip, he moves towards the room, seeing a shadow of movement underneath the door.

He reaches the door, slowly moving his hand to the handle. Once it’s in his hand, he turns it quickly, throwing open the door and pouncing on top of the person in his chambers.

His dagger is held at their throat, determined to find out who sent the risk before disposing of them. A laugh bursts out from under him, his dagger so close to their throat it knicks their throat at their laughs.

“That’s one way to say hello.”

His grip on the dagger falters momentarily, the sweet sounds of his mate’s voice causing him to loosen his hold. He pulls the dagger back, sheathing it back into his pants.

He brushes the hair from your face, taking in your amused look, his other hand going to inspect the slight knick on your throat.

“My precious fox.”

The nickname rolls off his tongue, his senses on high alert at your unexpected presence. He can sense something is off with you, and his eyes roam your body for injury.

Coming up short of any injuries sans the knick he just gave you, he sits on his haunches, grabbing your hands, helping you to sit up. You sit on your legs, keeping a tight hold on Eris’s hands, playing with his fingers.

You pull off one of his rings, sliding it on and off your own fingers, the warm metal soothing your cold hands.

He watches you for a moment, watches your fingers play with the rings he wears every day. He’s never understood your fascination with them, a nervous habit perhaps. He watches as you move the gold ring onto your thumb before pulling you into his arms. The feel of you settles him, and he can finally breathe deeply for the first time in weeks.

He holds you, pressing his face into the side of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair. He pours what love and devotion he can down the bond, enjoying your presence before he can bring himself to ask why you’re here.

The two of you usually meet in his private cabin, miles and miles from the cruelties of the Forest House. He can’t recall if you’ve ever even been in his private chambers.

You pull back from him, shuffling around so you can sit in between his legs, back pressed to his chest. You know you have to tell him why you’re here, but you can’t look at him while you do it.

You’re not sure what you’ll find from him as you recount your tale.

You take in a breath, deciding to tell him what happened instead of letting him wait.

“Rhys found one of your letters,” you say, not able to look at him. “I was called away while I was reading one of them. It was foolish - I always hide them before leaving my room.”

Something warms in Eris’s chest at the thought of you, courts away from him, pouring over every word in the letters full of love you’d exchange between each other.

Much like he did every night.

“We got into a big fight, and he uh-“

Eris watches the tear slip out, sliding down your face.

“He told me I was no sister of his.”

Eris can’t help the snarl that comes from him, and you gingerly place a hand on his thigh, a motion he knows is grounding the both of you.

“What did his little lackeys have to say?” He spits out, unable to hide his contempt for them as he asks.

His dislike of Cassian and Azriel was no secret, but it took you a long time to coax out of him what about them he disliked.

“Truthfully, I found out how Illyrians treated females and it left a foul taste in my mouth,” he had told you once. It was all you could coax out of him, and perhaps that’s all there was to it.

At his core, Eris defined males by how they treated the females in their lives. Perhaps he assumed that Cassian and Azriel were the same as the other Illyrians and did not want to press further.

“They uh weren’t there,” you reply, “no one else was there. Perhaps he sent them all away so he could throw a fit.”

You laugh a little, thinking of just how red Rhysand’s face had gotten during your fight. You feel Eris’s head lay against your own, his fingers tangling into the strands of your hair.

“He was yelling, screaming about how I was defiling the family name by being with a Vanserra.” You sigh. “Then he began screeching about how you’re awful, you’re terrible, and ‘what about Mor’ and blah blah blah.”

“How’d you respond?” Eris asks, hands idly moving to hold onto yours in a soft grasp.

“I told him to ask Mor about what actually happened that day.”

He hums, allowing you to absentmindedly play with his fingers as you speak.

“He said that Mor would never lie to him. That she would never lie to any of us.” You blow out a breath, “then he said I had been cursed by the Mother to be mated to you.”

Eris knew the words were not your own, but the sound of them on your lips still stung deep in his chest.

“That’s when I told him to fuck off.”

Eris looks down at you as you peer back up at him, adoration, love, and a hint of sadness shines onto you through his gaze.

“We fought back and forth for a while after that. Then, after realizing I wasn’t giving up so easily, he gave me a choice.”

“My family name, my title, my claim to the throne, or you.”

Eris’s grip tightens. You two had spoken about what the worst outcomes would be if you were found out. Neither of you had ever expected Rhys to disown you.

Rhysand, who adored his little sister more than anything. Rhysand, who insisted you were an integral part of his life. Rhysand, who constantly ensured you were safe and happy.

He threw all that away the second he said you would never give up your tiara collection for Eris.

“Oh, my little fox.”

He peers down at you, your eyes wide as you peer up at him, your face upside down.

He knew he’d never get to love you wholly, unabashedly, publicly. He always knew something would come between you. He lets his gaze linger, memorizing the slope of your nose, the curve of your cheeks. His fingers move and, without his prompting, they start gliding across your face. They move as if he were studying it, preparing himself to have to recognize you in blindness.

To only see you in the darkest hour of the night, when his fingers can retrace these patterns, and pretend you’re next to him again.

He could, he thinks. He’d recognize you anywhere. His breath is shaky, knowing he will have to wait until you two are gone from this world to be together.

He would spend the entirety of his afterlife searching for you, in whatever form you took. If you were nothing more than stardust, a gentle whisper on the wind every Starfall, his flame would burn higher that day, reaching out for you one last time.

He resigns himself to these last few minutes with you, but he doesn’t feel the despair in his heart mirrored in your own.

You feel hopeful. You feel open.

He can’t ask, but you know he needs to hear it.

“I am no longer the Princess of the Night Court.”

Hot tears pour down his face, and he struggles to keep his mouth closed to keep from gasping at your decision. A tear falls onto your face beneath his, splashing across your cheek.

“I am officially without a name, without a home, and with no title,” your voice full of more determination than Eris could imagine, “I humbly ask if you could provide these things for me.”

A strangled sob breaks from him, and you twist in his arms to hold him. Surprise takes over your face, utter shock cascading through the bond before you can stop it.

Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn Court, a master of masks and facades, always playing the sly courtier three steps ahead. Never in all the years have you known him have you ever seen him so emotional.

Eris looks to the ceiling as you throw your arms around him, embracing him tightly. The heat from his hands was clawing at your back, but it didn’t burn.

You shushed him as he continued crying into your hair, the sight of him becoming undone such a shock to your system.

“I apologize, my love, deeply and truly.”

His hands stay on you, every inch of you needing to make that contact with him.

For so long, his life revolved around choices he was not privy to, choices that were not his. He was a pawn in an ever tiring game, one he was trying to make his way out of.

He presses you into him, unable to believe that someone, anyone, especially you, would choose him.

You chose him. You chose him the day the bond had snapped, and you chose him now, when everything was on the line for you.

He knew that he would make the same choice, putting everything on the line for you, preparing to finally take down Beron.

“I choose you too.”

[danikamariewrites]

fourth wing rec:

training mats w xaddy daddy but instead of waddling off, he does us

(aka what shoulda happened the first time)

On The Mat (SMUT)

Xaden x reader

A/n: you’re so right for this omg

Warnings: fingering, p in v, biting

Watching as everyone trailed out of the training room you grew agitated. Swinging and dodging Xaden you glare at him. “Don’t let that control you.” He grunted throwing another left hook as he sensed your anger. Dodging his massive fist you throw yourself across the mat with a back handspring.

Landing in a crouch you look up at him and snarl. Unsheathing two of your daggers you aim them both for Xaden’s shoulders. The Wing Leader rolls to the right avoiding the blades. “How much longer?” You yell. “How ever long it takes for you to get it right.”

Rolling your eyes you both pop back up in ready stances, circling each other. You fumble with your hidden dagger at your back. Taking your eyes off of Xaden for a moment he saw his opportunity and pounced. You let out a grunt as Xaden pinned you to the ground.

You struggled to get free but your arm was pinned behind your back. Xaden quickly grabbed your hips, flipping you and straddling your ass. He held your arm to your back, slipping the dagger out from its hidden sheath with his other hand. You struggled against him panting as you failed to escape his iron clad grip.

Xaden leaned down next to your ear. His breath tickling your skin. “I guess we aren’t leaving just yet.” He whispers seductively. That deep voice bringing heat to your face. The need for him growing between your thighs. Letting out a sarcastic laugh you fall limp against the training mat.

“We don’t have to leave. But we’re done with this exercise.” You tease, grinding your leather clad ass against his cock. Xaden’s sharp breath makes you smirk knowing you’ve won. “Sure you can get this right?” Lust evident in his voice.

“Oh, Riorson. This is one exercise I won’t fail.” Xaden flips you onto your back, gathering your wrists in his hand to pin above your head. His lips immediately go to your neck, kissing and biting aggressively. You tilt your head to the side giving him more access. Moaning his name you try to move your arms to touch him. Over the sound of his lips and moans you hear the lock on the door click. You’re sure it’s thanks to his shadows. Always using them to conceal you in stolen moments or locking doors when he’s too caught up in your activities.

Making eye contact he bites the zipper of your vest, pulling until your breasts are exposed. He bites and sucks at the supple untouched flesh. Marking you as his. He brings his hands to your breasts, groping them and letting out a possesive moan as his hands trail down to the waist band of your pants.

Wasting no time Xaden ripped open the laces. Teasingly dragging his fingers across your pelvic bone. Leaving a trail of goosebumps on your flesh. Gods, it feels like he hasn’t touched you in years when it’s only been days since you’ve last had him. Clearly Xaden was just as eager to have you. Again, wasting no time he brings his fingers to your heat.

A whimper fell from your lips as Xaden spread your wetness around your folds. “Fuck, sweetheart.” Xaden breathed, pushing two of his thick fingers in your hole. Bucking your hips you clutched at his shoulders. He began working you open. Making you desperate for him.

You dropped your head against the mat as you came close to the edge. Your hips moved to meet the thrust of his fingers. “Please,” you beg, “please, Xaden. I’m s-so close.” You pant. Just as he started grazing that sweet spot Xaden ripped his fingers from your core. A whine escapes your lips.

“One second, sweetheart. Then you’ll have what you want.” You watched as Xaden pulled at the ties on his own pants. The outline of his hardened cock prominent against his leather pants. After freeing himself Xaden pulls your pants and boots off. Showing your impatience you grab his cock, running your thumb across his slit.

Teasing him at your entrance a growl sounds from deep in Xaden’s chest. He bats your hand away which immediately finds home in his thick dark hair. Xaden rubs himself against your entrance before sinking in. His hips fitting snug against yours as he waits for you to adjust to his size. “Move. Gods please move Xa.” You plead with him again. Xaden presses his lips against yours in a heated kiss as he begins to move. Swallowing each of your moans with his thrusts.

“Fuck, Xaden please. Right there, yes!” You scream against his lips. Xaden’s thrusts get deeper and faster. You dig your nails into his shoulders as he brings his thumb to your clit. Rubbing tantalizing circles. “I’m close, sweetheart. I need you to come with me, can you do that?” You nod letting out a small, uh-huh.

He presses down on your clit making your leg shake around his waist. “I-I,” you stutter. Xaden shushes you, knowing what you’re about to say. “I can feel you squeezing me, baby. I know, me too.” With a few more thrusts you let out a moan, coming undone around Xaden’s cock.

His head drops into the crook of your neck as he relishes in the feel of your walls fluttering around his cock. Squeezing around him a rare whimper left Xaden’s lips as he came.

Neither of you moved. Just laying on the mat, chests heaving as you held each other. “Fuck,” you breathe out. Yanking on Xaden’s hair you find that smirk on his lips that told you there was more. “You still didn’t get your move from earlier. This was your reward for trying.” He hovered over your lips, only slightly grazing them. “You still need to be punished, sweetheart.”

[neoplatinum]

i choose you - part 3 | minatozaki sana

summary: a darkness in sana's past comes back into light

pairing: heiress!sana x reader

themes: blood, murder, gore, knives, arranged marriage au, fluff, angst, tension, lots of elitism, conglomerate power-hungry side characters, implied sex, misamo!

wc: 5.9k

(series masterlist)

you stare at her as she stares at you back. the eyes of a woman who's held her domain for decades, bursting in power through the new age of technology. her eyes are still as sharp as ever, despite her age. it's how she's kept her power for so long.

long brushes of the tea cup lid against the cup, nursing a cup of sencha. 

"tell me, how devoted are you to the mintaozaki clan." she continues to swirl the tea in the porcelain cup. her eyes never leaving yours. 

you stare at her, but also to take a glance at the elders of the minatozaki clan all staring at you. strong eyes and the crest pinned to their delicate fabrics.

momo and mina are sat on the second row of chairs lining the edges of the room. various council advisors and distant family members sat in the back corners as well.

"i would lay my life on the line for the minatozakis." she stops her swirling. the gentle drop of the lid back onto the cup as she sets it down next to her.

with the flick of her wrist, a man shuffles towards, head bowed as he hands her a folder. the sound of papers being flipped through while you keep your eyes trained on the floor. 

all around are eyes peering in, a dare. they stare, daring you to make any sign of weakness, you keep your eyes unwavering as you wait. it's so quiet that an outsider would expect no one in this room. you can even hear the faint sound of wind outside.

"let me rephrase. would you survive for the minatozaki clan." she places the paper down. eyes instantly back on you. 

"until my last dying breath. i would utter it for the minatozaki name." you say, staring at her with intensity of a thousand flames. you think of sana, of haruto and hanako. the person you have become since being part of the family.

the matriach leans back into her chair. and you stare, for any sign of emotion. the way her eyes remain neutral and unchanging, hands comfortably laying on her lap. her feet tucked together and that large pendant on her neck.

"understood." another flick of the wrist. a different man walks forward, head bowed just like the last. 

his head low as he presents a tanto with both hands. the six inch double edged blade. a long dagger, sheathed in dark brown wooden scabbard. 

lined with the proud name of the minatozaki clan in hiragana, etched into the layered metal. she holds it within her palms, unsheathing it and holding it out.

"do you know of the etching tradition?" she says as she feels for the blade, the tip piercing enough of her skin to let out a drip of blood. she wraps it into a cloth as she goes back to staring at you.

"no, i do not." you've never even heard of the tradition to begin with. eyeing sana from the corner of your eye but she keeps her eyes focused on her mother.

"present." and then the cacophony of hands folding up their arm sleeves, and the turning of their forearm towards the matriarch, you can barely see it, but it's there. the scarred skin in the symbol of the minatozaki crest, just in the center of everyone's right forearm.

a glance to your right, and you notice it on sana's forearm, it's always been there. even in the curiosity you never asked, always wondering how she had a perfect scarring of her family name. the way it stretches across her arm, like a branding. 

like an imprint of being in a cult, you look back at the matriarch.

upon her forearm, the same name is etched deeply, a long stretch of scars lining around it, never touching the name directly. the room all around you, are filled with minatozakis, each and everyone one of them.

"the minatozaki name will be etched into your skin. do not show weakness." the matriarch calls you forth, you rise to your feet, making quick steps to her. kneeling before her as you present your arm, to which she gently rubs over.

the tanto digs into your arm, and you grind your teeth willing the pain away as the tip of the blade drags along the skin. clean and sharp lines that are moving like brush strokes on a painting. 

you grip onto your pants for a distraction to shift the pain. the burning and sweating sensation making you tremble a little. you will it away when you feel the blade lift up suddenly. 

"breathe." you can hear sana's voice behind you, calming the pain brewing all over your body. 

letting out a held breath that's been burning your lungs. a reminder that this pain is temporary, the breathing chills the burning sensation in your head. 

the final mark is laid upon your skin, and you can feel yourself feeling faint, holding onto the floor to keep your body upright. you feel the blade lift off your skin, the sound of the blade being cleaned, while you stare at the pool of blood on the marbled floor, dripping and seeping underneath your shoe. 

"rise." she speaks. you stand up, letting the blood continue to run down your arm. 

the ringing in your ears gets louder and louder. she speaks of tradition, the value of the name across your arm. all eyes continue to stare you down, eyes like steel. 

"this blade, has etched every minatozaki in this room, and those that have been laid to rest. this blade, will continue to etch into the minatozaki clan for future generations." you stare at the blade now in your hand, only seconds ago tearing your skin apart and being branded as the family's new pawn.

"to a new generation." she says as she hands it over, the drippings of your blood still across the double beveled edge. you stare at the blade, the weight of it, the memories of each person etched. it's heavier than you expected. 

generations of minatozaki's all carved into submission. you begin to feel it, stirring low in your subconscious, you need more.

--

every night in the dark study, you stare at the name. forever in your skin, and upon your body. a sign that you are now a minatozaki, even years spent becoming a figurehead didn't sear the idea until now. 

the scarring has scabbed over and begun to heal, into that perfect shape of the name. 

sana's been telling you stories about her late father, the patriarch of the minatozaki clan before he was assassinated by the abe clan. the abe's who wanted his land, his ability to rule over japan.

stories of his strict rulings, his inability to feel remorse, his lack of fear. his dictatorship under his ship, even more fierce than his father. 

the golden age of the minatozaki clan.

you often visit the matriarch, learning family secrets that wouldn't be uttered under broad daylight. understanding the inner workings of a regime that's lasted centuries.

more so, you've been trained by the matriarch to take over the next generation for the minatozaki's. receiving training in the philanthropy for public image, but also training on how to take out an enemy without letting a single drop of blood fall.

you can see how the minatozaki's have gotten so far, extremely cautious and calculating, much like other conglomerate group families. as much as you didn't want to be pulled in, here you are. fighting both momo and mina in hand-to-hand combat. 

a swift kick of the leg, and you topple over. the pain of the right hook that momo landed earlier still leaving a stinging in your cheek. you turn over, breathing in and out.

"you're still too slow." momo comments, sitting down with mina doing the same.

you continue to stare at the bright light overhead, the feeling of your heart beating thumping in your ears, the sweat dripping down your body.

"i know." 

mina gets up, grabbing water bottles and passing one to you. you sit up, drinking it as the two woman stare at you.

"why do you do this?" momo starts, a curious question that's been plaguing her mind lately. 

the minatozaki's never asked you to be trained to be the next head of family, but you took it upon yourself to do so. grueling physical training, while learning the arts of the past generations.

mina continues to sip at her water, eyes watching you.

"duty. for sana, for haruto, for hanako." you explain, as much as you didn't want to become a pawn for their family, you care so deeply for the family that you now have, one that you would tear apart the world for.

mina nods, but momo rolls her eyes, "how noble." and with another sip, she gets up again. you begin sparring once more. 

--

rolling your shoulders when you walk into your office, grabbing some soothing oil to rub onto the bruise on your ribs and the smaller bruises along your shoulders. 

you stare at the tanto that now lays in a secret compartment under your desk. the etching tradition still leaves you in a heavy daze these days, how much you have changed all for sana's family. 

when the devil herself walks in.

"you need to fire that assistant of yours." sana walks in, handbag hanging off her arm. glasses perched on her nose bridge, the exhaustion rolling off her words. she seems aggravated. 

"why?" you cock your head to the side.

"she just told me you have a meeting in five, which i mean sure thank you for the information but i seriously don't care." you laugh out, as she crosses her arm. sitting comfortably in the armchair in front of you. 

it seems today is one of those days.

"she's just doing her job." you explain. you liked shoko, she did her job well, often reworking your schedule when you needed her to. and she rarely complained about it, you even gave her a raise recently.

"yeah and i'm doing mine." sana gets up, leaving her bag on the floor and crosses over to you, dropping herself onto your lap.

she takes the glasses off your face. letting it slide across the table. you're about to get up to pick it up, when sana pushes more of her weight onto you. keeping you in your seat.

"last time you just waltzed into one of my 1 on 1 client meetings and sat on my lap the whole time." you point at her, showcasing the same exact behavior.

"yeah, like i said, i'm doing my job." sana says, taking off her sunglasses.

"sana...." you say dejectedly.

"i didn't hear you complaining when you bent me over this table and ate me out the rest of the afternoon." and with that she smashes her lips against yours. 

you completely forget what you were complaining about earlier.

--

"what's your favorite color?" sana's voice is quietly coming through the microphone, she called you multiple times, and texting you urgently nearly ten times. 

you silenced it, only to get a note from your assistant to pick up her calls.

"hmm, green." you say, watching as the shareholders stare you down, waiting for your approval.

without another second, the sound of the call ending comes through, you glance at your phone screen, seeing the call disappear, and a little confused.

"sorry, please continue." you point at the junior executive, he's been trying to get through this presentation without peeing his pants, and really you would like to get through it enough for him to finally calm down.

fifteen minutes later you get multiple pings on your phone.

"so like i said, we expect the project with akira industries to go well-" the junior executive's voice completely drowns out into white noise when you see what's displayed on your screen.

sana baby: attachment: 3 images

sana baby: you like?

your phone screen is filled with green, all three photos illuminating your face in a green hue. 

green lingerie set, green bows tied around her hair, and your dress shirt draped over one. good god, she looks like a vixen. 

photos of her laying across the bed, aimed at the mirror, long legs that stretch across the comforter. gorgeous lithe body framed by that light green corset. pouty lips in a selfie, aimed down at her cleavage.

you nearly curse out loud, instead letting a cough come through at the last second to cover it up.

another message comes through. you lift your phone back up to your face.

sana baby: you come home in thirty and you can take it off with your hands, any later and you do it with your teeth.

--

you're trying to pick out your work outfit for tomorrow, eyes glancing at all the dress shirts that you had hung up in the walk-in closet. you can hear sana faintly humming through the other side of the closet.

"sana..." you pick out one shirt, noticing the pink-ish red color across the collar.

"yes darling?" she says in a light-hearted tone, you see her walk over with her eyes a little playful. her eyes landing on the dress shirt that you have in your hand.

you hold it up to her face.

"why are my dress shirts littered with lipstick marks?" she takes the dress shirt out of your hand, eyeing it with happiness.

"they need to know who you belong to." she says and hands it back to you. 

you shake your head at it. putting it back onto the rack. 

only to notice another shirt, and another shirt, and another shirt.

"i mean, literally every single shirt is covered in them." you point at the whole rack, now noticing the pink/red littered across the collars. all of them have it. you turn to look at her, eyes wide as she just smiles at her handiwork.

she gives you a peck and just leaves. turning her head to look at you over the shoulder and give one last remark.

"you better not wash them off or you're sleeping on the couch."

--

"the abe clan cordially invites you to the 2027 annual ball." you stare at the invitation in your hand, red cardstock, beautiful crest in the dead center. 

with sana's quiet humming, you barely register that you've arrived at the abe clan's main estate. dark and light reds adorning the walls, intricate wooden carvings of dragons. the dark red crest and lapels on each security guard. 

the sedan rolls forwards, until you're stopped by two guards. handing the invitation card to the chauffeur, and letting the guards scan the car. 

you watch sana, her eyes floating around, admiring the long trees that line around the garden's pond.

and then the car continues to roll forwards, and all around you are different black marked cars. each with their own crest, women and men donning different formal wear. kimonos, tuxedos, hanboks, qipaos, ao dais, all around.

the door opens, and you step out, rounding the corner to take sana's arms into yours.

"one rule with the abe's, do not ever drink first in front of an abe." she whispers quietly as you both enter down a deep tunnel, much like the minatozaki house. 

large stone slabs lined underneath, but you can see it above, the lining of birds across a wired line. much like a telephone line. their dark beady eyes staring down, with jet black feathers that make their body look like voids. 

they all move their heads in turn with the walking guests. "trained birds, trained to kill." she comments and continues to pull you forward. 

then you enter a big hall, filled with different dignitaries, generals, top executives, council members, even a few celebrity faces. 

sana smiles at the sight of the turning heads, everyone's excited to see another conglomerate family at these events. "just smile and nod." she whispers again through a smile.

you do the same, watching the eyes all peer back at you. they don't have the stillness of the minatozakis, there's bloodlust, there's evil, there's an ominous undertone behind those spheres. a predator lying dormant in each and everyone one of them.

with the sound of the doors opening, you hear the awws of the guests, all piling into the abe main hall. much like the grandeur of the minatozaki clan, it's lined with artifacts of war. 

great katanas and bows hung along the walls. dark and deep red colored accents, a giant abe crest upon the center. there's beautiful music playing in the background as you scan the room. sana tugs you along.

"how much do you know about the abe's?" sana stares at you as she hands you a small knife. you tuck it into the breast pocket.

"a little." you offer, brushing her hair out of her face, and she gleams at that, giving a little kiss before returning back to her stoic face.

"kaito and kenji, two sons of the abe clan. kaito's set to become the head of the family. there's rumors that kenji might kill him for the seat." she explains, adjusting the knife in her thigh holster.

you nod, her mother has educated you on all the conglomerate groups, especially the abe and watanabe clan. both have been vying for the possible absorption of the minatozaki clan.

you adjust the knife holster for her, as you check your surroundings, just as you expected. nearly the same power in their private military, donning red fabric. you both take off to the other side of the room, eyes darting from face to face trying to remember significant figures, but who are you kidding, they're all people in power.

browsing through plates of delicacies, waiters and waitresses circling with plates of drinks. each more colorful than the last, it seems the abe have distinct taste.

you're leaning to your left when you're suddenly pulled into a conversation, the woman making large and loud gestures at you. most of which you nod and let the words flow through your ears. you never thought you would see her again.

sana's staring, taking turns staring at her and staring at you. her hold on your arm tighter than ever, feeling the blood thump in your arm. she continues to drone on until finally she gets swept into another conversation with someone else.

sana unhooks her arm from you.

"who is that?" sana stares at you, arms folded and that tick in her jaw. you can't help but keep eyeing the long black dress that she has on, with a deep thigh slit along the left side. 

you try your best to keep the impure thoughts to yourself, instead offering a kiss to sana's forehead when you stand in front of her.

"hmm, old friend from law school."

sana had been eyeing the woman even as she moved across the room. even more upset when she slid up next to you. talking your head off about something that must have been boring because she could recognize the attention leaving your body.

but she can't help but notice how forward the woman was, unnecessarily putting her hands on you. unnecessarily laughing at whatever you are saying, just a bit too hard. unnecessarily pushing her cleavage up against you.

"our year?" sana says, brushing off a piece of lint from your jacket, also brushing off the feeling of the woman off your jacket. 

you stare at her manicured fingers. long slender fingers that wear your ring proudly. you smile at the sight of the large diamond.

"no, a year younger." you say softly, bringing her hand up to kiss it. she flips your hand over to kiss it back. "why do you ask?"

"didn't know you liked younger women..." she comments, back to nitpicking what the woman is wearing tonight. 

how dare she try and lay her hands on you? sana's thinking of calling momo and mina to do some 'intervention'.

"i don't, like younger women i mean." you watch sana as she stares down the woman. the way she holds onto the neck of the champagne flute, the way she has that tick in her jaw, the way she can't keep moving her eyes up and down in disdain.

"good." she comments back, it's more so to herself, so you roll your eyes at that.

"i only like you sana." you say the golden words that make her heart melt. she stares at you for a bit.

"mhm keep sweet talking me like that and i’ll let you fuck me in the bathroom." she drapes her arm over your neck pulling you into a hot kiss, tossing a wink to the woman from earlier.

you pull away, her chasing after you, but with all the prying eyes you'd rather enjoy sana in a more private place. 

you begin to pull her towards anywhere that isn't open space for people to watch, when you bump into someone on accident.

"oh hello." the man turns around, a tall man toying with a knife in hand. his eyes dancing with amusement. "apologies, hope there's no hard feelings."

"none here." you offer, trying to side-step around him when he places his small knife at your neck. you look down at it, engraving in the base with red ink.

"kenji abe." you whisper to yourself, but he claps in delight, nodding quickly and sheathing his dagger away.

"that is me!" he exclaims, offering his hand. you shake it, his grip awfully loose, too loose.

"nice to meet you mr. abe." you explain, still trying to drag sana away. he stops you with a hand, a little smirk on his face. taking a glance at you and sana.

“nice to meet the minatozaki’s new lapdog.” he smiles, and then takes a look at sana, “hello sana, it’s been a while hasn’t it. kaito misses you.” the curling devilish smile as he hands both of you a drink. and taking one for himself. 

“cheers! to a lovely abe ball.” he says as he holds the glass in the air, you take a quick look at sana out of your eye as you both clink his glass, letting it linger away from your lip. 

watching the way he smirks, and then drinks his champagne. he smiles at you both before disappearing into the crowd. 

“never liked him.” sana shudders as she says it, you just smile at her. letting her lay on your shoulder. “him and kaito. they’re dangerous. and he called you a lapdog, what an excuse of a man.”

you just nod, absorbing the information you’ve just been told. it’s not easy transitioning into this lifestyle, with structures and family systems in place, you feel like you really are out of your depth here.

a question still remains, what did he mean by kaito misses sana? you’re distracted by even more dramatic flairs of the abe ball. fire lighting up around, spotting several of your father’s old business partners, nodding to them.

"have i told you how gorgeous you look tonight?" sana starts, giving you a light kiss under your jaw.

"hmm, no, not tonight." you smirk, leaning into her, garnering another kiss. you smile when she rolls her eyes, kissing her jaw lightly too.

"well you do, and i think you would look even more gorgeous under me." she whispers into your ear, you lean back. it seems tonight’s been getting under her skin, constantly trying to get you away from the ball.

you shake your head ready to tell her no when you hear a mic being tapped.

“hello, welcome to the 247th annual abe ball!” a tall well tailored man is speaking into the mic, upon a lifted podium. his voice loud and commanding as he looks below at all the guests. 

all around you are people clapping at him, so you begin to clap, interested in whoever this man might be.

“my name is kaito abe, thank you all for joining us tonight.” he booms into the mic, the sound booming off the walls, everyone clapping at his pauses.

“tonight, we have something special, a very special event.” he says, lifting his hand out to the other side of the podium. white flashing lights suddenly illuminating three bodies. 

the sound of gasps and quiet whispers making you curious. you keep your hand on the knife, sana’s picked up on the same thing, her hand pulling the thigh knife.

“i welcome you, the death of the watanabe’s.” and there you can see it, white fluorescent lights shining across three figures. their eyes begging for help while they’re forced to face the bloodlust of kaito abe. 

“sana, get behind me.” you push her behind you, her eyes staring at the watanabe’s. 

they look roughed up, blood already pouring from their heads and clothes. the patriarch, his wife and the only heir.

“you see, a little weasel from their clan, a vermin even.” kaito begins throwing the tanto he has in his hand, one much like the minatozaki tanto you have in your desk.

he continues to flip it through the air with ease. “tried getting into our clan, how silly right?”

he leans forward, nearly off the edge of the podium as he laughs maniacally. you can see shuffling begin to happen, people are panicking, trying to leave the ball. 

only to be pushed back into the center by the abe guards, all of them wielding weapons.

“oh no, you can’t leave darling, the show’s barely begun!” he continues to round the podium, letting out a laugh when the woman starts crying, his tanto hanging loosely in his hand as he points at the woman.

“see, when there's a rat in your home, what do you do?” he continues to pace the podium. “answer me!” 

he shouts from above, more people are shuffling nervously and then you hear a distant, “you exterminate them!” 

“BINGO! you. exterminate. them.” he laughs a bit, walking briskly towards them, pulling at the hair of the patriarch. 

you curse out loud, his swollen eyes and chunks of his hair missing. 

“but you can’t just exterminate one rat. no. no. they will just continue to repopulate. exterminate. at. the. source.” and then he jabs the tanto right into the man’s neck. 

blood gushing onto his suit like a geyser. he lets out a laugh as the man sputters up blood before falling forward. 

then he moves towards his wife, stabbing into her neck as her cries turn into screams. dragging out a laugh from him, meanwhile their son is crying silently, arms defeated as he watches his two parents’ now dead body.

“and remember. no survivors left behind.” he says with finality, as he shoves the tanto deep into the son’s neck, the tanto left inside.

sana’s covered her eyes into your back. you can feel her shaking a bit, you cover her ears as you pull her close, letting her keep her head against your chest. 

“sana?” she just continues to shake in your arms, fear enveloping her entire body. memories of her younger self around the abe clan. you’ve never seen her so scared. she clings onto you like a lifeline. 

“thank you, thank you! i hope you enjoyed the show!” he takes a deep bow, one in which he keeps his head forward with that smirk on his face. joy from killing, joy from being able to make others submit to him.

and then he walks over, using his foot as leverage as he pulls out the knife, wiping it clean off, and disappearing behind a door in the wall. the sound of shouts and chaos echoing through the hall.

--

the car ride is silent, sana’s gone quiet, simple nods when you ask her if she’s alright. eyes squeezed tightly and one hand curling around the other. you don’t even know where to begin talking about the events of tonight.

the abe’s are ruthless killers, you remember that even from when sana told you. it just takes a live performance of it to see how they are devoid of remorse. 

kaito abe, kaito abe, kaito abe. 

you barely knew the watanabe’s, only speaking to their son once, he was quiet. he didn’t seem the type to want to lead their clan, but now he lays dead, at the hands of kaito.

you play with your knife in your hand, thinking about how easily it shoved down the watanabe’s, killing them so quickly. the same blade that’s supposed to show honor and birth of a new member of the clan, used for killing those that harm the family.

the car rolls into the manor, and you take a deep breath, looking at sana. eyes still unfocused and staring at her own hands. you open the door and round the back to open the door to her side.

“darling? we’re home.” you offer your hand, she doesn’t even move. so you tap her shoulder lightly, she jumps at the touch, moving back from it.

“oh, sorry.” she takes your hand, and you pull her out, leading her towards the door. you immediately squatting at the sight of haruto and hanako walking outside.

picking up haruto in your arms, while sana picks up hanako, a warm smile back on her face. holding hanako tightly to her chest. haruto messes with your hair, pointing around and talking about his day. you kiss his forehead and walk inside. 

there’s still a weird tension lingering around her, she refuses to look you in the eyes. instead preoccupying herself with putting hanako to bed. so you do the same putting haruto into bed. tucking him in and giving him a kiss while sana waits outside. you kiss hanako on the forehead as well before slipping out.

giving yourself a deep breath when you close the door, you see sana next to you, her eyes back to their unfocused state. there’s something she isn’t telling you, and normally you aren’t one to pry. but after the events of tonight, you need to know.

“sana, are you alright?” you hold her head in your hands, eyes peering into hers, for any sign really. she just nods, taking a deep breath, dragging you down the hallway.

“i have something to tell you.” she begins as she sits at her vanity. starting to take off her earrings, you unclasp the necklace that she has on, placing it into a velvet box before tucking it away. 

she stares at herself in the mirror, memories of her past self resurfacing.

“kaito abe and i, we used to date. set to marry actually.” you sit next to hit, listening intently as she continues to take out hairpins and set them across her table. “it was what was destined for us, until his father killed my uncle. momo and mina’s father.”

you nod, you didn’t know much about momo and mina but there was an emptiness in their eyes, you always assumed it was because they were trained soldiers.

“seeing them up there on the platform, it felt like i was watching momo and mina being killed at his hands. then i thought, what if he killed you, what if he killed haruto and hanako. i’m so scared.” she bursts into tears, hands shaking to hold yours.

“he won’t be able to, i won’t let him.” you say confidently, kissing her gently. 

--

“so, the minatozakis were here tonight.” kenji stares at kaito, both of them throwing knives at a corkboard, you and sana’s photos pinned to the board.

“yes, sana and her plaything.” kenji turns to a guard, handing him ten new knives. kaito just laughs, doubling over and wiping the tears out of his eyes.

“her plaything? how delightful.” kaito stares at the photo of you, and then down at the photo of haruto and hanako by your side. “and her spawns.” 

“yes, two it seems.” kenji nods as he continues to throw straight into the forehead of your photos. the two continue to throw knives in the silence, slicing through the air, as they land on the different photos across the board.

“kenji, let’s topple the minatozakis?” kaito stares at sana’s photo as he aims for her heart, landing dead in the center.

“with pleasure.” his final knife aimed straight at your heart.

--

a/n: message me if you want a part 4 :^P

[fangswbenefits]

The Arrangement (9) - The Arrangement

Chapter summary: Ava proposes an arrangement, and things get out of control with Astarion... once again.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Alcohol. Innuendo. Body worship. (almost) Fingering. Sexual tension.

Word count: 6k

Series masterlist . Ao3

Ava extended the palm of her hand across the table, expecting you to comply with her silent request.

But you weren’t so easily swindled, especially when too much of her story was beginning to rub you the wrong way.

As such, you feigned complying by placing your hand atop hers, whilst your other carefully unsheathed the dagger at your hip.

Her face held a honeyed smile that you didn’t return, and your watchful eyes followed her every move, 

But before her knife could come close to your skin, you got on your feet, sending the chair sliding across the floor before you made a lunge for her, plucking her from her seat with one hand and pressing her back against the cabinet behind, your dagger firmly held against the side of her neck.

She did try to swing the knife in her hand, but you immediately caught hold of her wrist and squeezed tight until she dropped it on the floor.

“Sharp reflexes,” she noted with a curt smile.

You held her in place with the weight of your body, the sharp edge of your blade ready to slice through her skin.

“You sound surprised.”

She smiled again. “It is uncommon for sorcerers to be so skillful with anything but a staff and fancy hand flourishes.”

“Not many have the opportunity to learn from a seasoned rogue.”

Astarion had taken a liking to honing your dexterity, even when constantly remarking you’d never rival his.

However, in this particular moment, it did come in handy and his teachings had paid off.

“Unfortunately for you,” Ava said, her smile dropping slightly. “You are not the only one with tricks up their sleeve.”

And before you could question her remark, you felt the cool sting of metal tapping against your neck, just above the faint bite marks from the night before.

For a moment, the grip on your dagger faltered, but you quickly regained composure, not easing the blade pressed against her skin.

“This is coated in a most agonising poison.”

You offered a devious smile. “What a coincidence – so is mine.”

“Astarion’s?”

“Touché.” 

A homebrew recipe that he had once shared with you.

Travelling together with Astarion had given you the opportunity to broaden your skill set and that covered knowing how to brew most basic poisons.

She did look far too amused for someone who you could easily incapacitate should she stray but a little.

“And here I thought we had made some progress.”

Her taunt made you snap at once. “How much of an idiot do you take me for?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Idiot?”

You pushed harder into her, causing the glass jars inside the cabinet to rattle. “Your story sounds a little too convenient. You were a monster hunter for decades, then had a sudden change of heart, and tracked down Astarion to aid him,” your words were venomous enough to match the poison coating your blade. “I’m sorry if I have a hard time believing someone could just abandon their principles all at once and even go as far as to kill their own kin.”

Her arm was gripping yours, but you didn’t flinch, your eyes boring into hers. “You don’t have to believe me. I wouldn’t either, to be frank. However, you shouldn't be passing judgement when it comes to others having changes of heart.”

You remained silent.

“You took a leap of faith with Astarion, did you not? You trusted him even after learning he could easily turn on you,” she went on, her voice now firm and low. “But he didn’t. He proved he could change, even when it goes against his very nature as a vampire spawn.”

Another wave of anger flared inside you.

How could she even compare this situation to that of Astarion’s? She was nothing like him. She didn’t know the first thing about the two of you. 

“You utter sweetened words and use my bond with him to make me sway,” you said in a low warning tone. “But I simply don’t like you. It’s not even about you wanting my blood – it’s how you so easily take and take from him and expect me to compactuate with it.”

Ava scoffed, trying to push you off of her but to no avail. “So is that why you’re here? To stake your claim?”

" Claim? Astarion is his own person.”

She chuckled darkly. “Yet here you are, speaking on his behalf. Enlighten me on how that works.”

Her words tore through your flesh more effectively than the knife she held to your neck ever could.

You immediately let go of her as if suddenly burned by her touch and took a few steps back, falling silent.

Was that the impression you gave her? That you were taking away his free will on this matter? Would he think the same if he knew how close you had been to sinking your dagger into her?

Shame.

Guilt.

Your chest felt impossibly heavy from the weight of your doubts, and you dropped your arm at your side at once.

Ava adjusted her dress as she straightened up, but there was no triumphant smile on her face. “I am not the enemy. You don’t have to trust me – Hells, you don’t have to like me – but he does to an extent, and I already said that I do not take a single drop of his blood without his full consent, as I won’t take yours.”

It was starting to overwhelm you just how hard Ava was to decode. You wanted to trust her word and to believe that helping her with your own blood could be helpful to Astarion in the long run, especially if there were people out there who wanted to hurt both of you.

But you just couldn’t bring yourself to fully digest her reasoning without asking the proper questions and double checking.

You were once told: “Never swallow before chewing.”

“Why did you kill your group, then? Why not just leave?”

Ava’s pleasant features turned sour as she returned to her seat. “There are no fiercest shackles than those of the mind. I know it. Astarion knows it,” she said nonchalantly, placing her knife on the table. “Not that I expect you to resonate with this as I’m sure you’ve lived a sheltered life.”

You’re wrong…

On so many levels.

But you weren’t going to give her leverage on your past.

Not even Astarion was aware of the intricate details of your upbringing.

“Sorcerers are born with an innate talent for magic wielding,” she went on, her eyes fixed on you. “I wouldn’t be surprised if your family in Baldur’s Gate ranked up high with the rest of the nobles.”

You narrowed your eyes, lips still pressed shut.

It was unfair that she was drawing all these assumptions in regards to you when they couldn’t be further from the truth.

There had never been privilege. 

The magic coursing through your body was what made you nearly lose it all once…

But silence was your best weapon now.

“Not everyone has that privilege – I know I didn’t. I was forced to do the bidding of others, because that was all I knew growing up until Astarion’s case put things into perspective. Sure, I did expand my knowledge on Alchemy here and there, but I was never allowed to openly practice it,” there was a faint hint of sorrow in her voice that nearly made you feel sorry for her. Nearly. “So long as they lived, I would never be truly free as they would make sure I’d painfully regret leaving them. But I was done hunting those who could use a second chance, which was exactly what you offered Astarion.”

Her answer absolutely floored you. 

Your mind wanted her explanation to not make any sense.

You wanted a reason to hate her.

A reason to tear her bond with Astarion to smithereens.

Yet here she was, giving you seemingly truthful justifications to her deeds, which further troubled your heart and mind and completely defied your anger.

Eventually, you slid your dagger back in its holster with a long sigh. “Who’s after us?”

She crossed her legs. “I have my suspicions, but I need more time.

As much as you wanted to take her vague answer at face value, your common sense spoke louder this time.

“How can I be sure you’re not just feeding me some fable to cover up your own tracks?”

She chuckled almost in disbelief. “You truly are a tough one to crack, no doubt. I have a solid alibi, if that is what you’re requesting.”

“Go on.”

She paused briefly as if pondering her next words. “I was with a patriar.”

Hold on…

“Who?” you immediately shot back.

“Someone from the Parliament of Peers.”

Now, this piqued your interest. “ Who?”

“Rob Sorel.”

The wealthy baldurian merchant with an uncanny reputation for being ruthless when his interests were involved? The man whose wealth could easily overshadow that of a duke?

That seemed like a stretch.

A very unsettling stretch. 

You crossed your arms. “And what were you doing with such an influential patriar, especially so late at night?”

Ava gave you a long and hard look, lips tugged upwards, unveiling her amusement. 

Oh.

Oh.

“His influence reaches beyond Baldur’s Gate and I am able to gain exclusive access to wares that aid my research.”

You felt tempted to ask what the trade off was, but judging from the way her face twisted deviously, you could tell it probably revolved around carnal pleasure, which you refused to know the sordid details of.“Feel free to have Wyll cross-check this information as I’m sure Rob has mentioned my name.”

This nearly sent off alarm bells ringing in your head. “Wyll had never heard your name before I told him.”

She chuckled again, drumming her nails on the wooden surface of the table. “Oh, but he has . Ava is short for Avalar. I have had long dealings with Rob and he will uphold my alibi. Feel free to ask.”

Against your better judgement, you began to feel less… wary of her.

Not that you were able to fully let go of your gut feeling, but every answer was delivered with almost no hesitancy on her part and, truth be told, you would quickly be able to catch her if this involvement with a patriar was nothing but a desperate lie.

A sudden knock on the door made you jolt in place.

It was Wyll. “We ought to get going. Are you done?”

Your eyes remained fixed on her. “Yes. We're just going over some details.”

He didn't reply again and you saw Ava raise her eyebrows. “Details?”

You ignored her remark. “Will you try to track whoever is after us, then?”

“I will.”

You swallowed. “What's the price?”

She rose to her feet and took slow yet sure steps towards you until she was close enough for you to fully see the olive green colour of her eyes.

“Let's just say our interests are temporarily aligned.”

Bullshit.

“You wanted my blood.”

“I want your blood, yes. But I will settle with running a few more experiments after he's fed on you, if you accept this condition, that is.”

As far as you were concerned, you would rather she stopped meddling with anyone's blood, but Astarion seemed so confident in her promises…

Maybe there was a chance of success… maybe she could truly help with their hunger.

Maybe.

“Only after you tell Astarion about this discovery of yours in regards to his blood mixing with mine,” you said firmly. “Or I will.”

She nodded, offering a sweet smile.

“Don't think of this as payment, though. A mere transaction. An arrangement, if you will.”

You were starting to dread that term as of late. It was as if everything revolved around transactions and that it was the only way people knew how to properly function and establish relationships with others.

Slowly, you nodded and, for the second time that night, Ava extended her hand to you, only this time you took it in yours. 

A mysterious smile settled on her lips until you pulled her closer to you, lowering your voice, “I still don’t trust you.”

“I’d be disappointed if you did.”

You glared intensely into her eyes, hardening your face. “Any small step in the wrong direction, and you’ll hear from me.”

She nodded. “Deal.”

Then you gave her a firm shake before letting go and exiting her room without even looking back, as you were in dire need to distance yourself from the overwhelming events of tonight.

Wyll hurried to your side, glaring at you inquisitively. “So? What did you find out? Is she to be trusted?”

“Do you know a woman who goes by Avalar?”

He tapped his chin pensively for a moment. “Avalar? That name does sound familiar. Wait – she is Avalar? The merchant?”

You nodded as you made your way down the staircase, feeling the uncomfortable and draining presence of the mage slayer right behind you.

“She is connected to Rob Sorel, right?”

He hesitated at first, grabbing your arm and bringing you to an abrupt halt as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Lord Sorel isn’t one to trifle with idly. If she is indeed who she claims to be, then we must keep an eye on her.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine, already feeling that you might have given her the benefit of the doubt too quickly.

Wyll turned to one of the Fists by his side and gave him a silent command to which the man nodded and exited the tavern.

“She said she was with him on the night we were caught, and that Sorel will vouch for her.”

The commotion around the two of you from the rowdy and very much intoxicated crowd made it nearly impossible to hold a proper conversation.

“I will dig around,” he said with a raise of his voice, guiding you to the door.

But you yanked free from him, which earned a wary look from the other Fist.

“I need a drink. Please.”

The Fist spoke before he could, “My Lord, I don’t think we should linger any longer.”

You rolled your eyes and promptly made your way to the counter, squeezing past a few smelly individuals who grumbled in 

Bork appeared rather quickly in front of you, and you blinked twice.

“What can I get you, missy? ”

Wyll was by your side at lightning speed. “Are you sure you want to have a drink? Now?”

You never felt a particular interest in indulging in alcoholic beverages, but you craved it now more than ever.

“A pint, please.”

Bork’s lips parted into a devious smile and you tapped your fingers impatiently as he shifted to work on your request.

“You are not one to hold your liquor, if I remember correctly, my friend,” Wyll noted, already placing one gold piece on the counter. “Mayhap you ought to take a sip or two before we leave.”

He was absolutely correct, but you also needed a quick way to numb your restless mind. 

At worst you’d get a bit too intoxicated.

At best, you’d find a way to, hopefully, sleep through what was left of this night.

As Bork set the mug in front of you and eagerly collected his payment, you grabbed it with both hands and proceeded to down the sweet liquid.

In one go.

Wyll’s hand tried to ease your eagerness, but you slapped it away with a chuckle. 

“Why do I have the feeling I will have to carry you home after this?”

By the time you were through with the ale, you realised you had made a severe mistake.

If Wyll had not been there to steady your unbalanced feet, you would have certainly tripped on the nearby stool.

Fuck…

By the time you made it back home, it was more than evident you should not have drunk all of it.

But it seemed that your brain was starting to morph a sense of guilt into finding anything within your grasp to be rather hilarious.

Even when you almost bumped into the mage slayer stationed outside your house.

You gave them a wide grin and a pat on the shoulder as if he couldn’t easily split you in half.

Wyll pushed the  door open and guided you inside with both hands gripping your shoulders for added support.

“Easy now. Mind the step.”

You completely disregarded his warning, which led to you almost losing balance if not for his strong arm that looped around yours, pulling you back.

You giggled.

He was truly a sweetheart.

Inside, you were met with the dim flickering of a few candles that provided enough brightness to spot the love of your life.

Wait.

Love of your life?

Scratch that. What a ridiculous overstatement. 

“What in the sweet Hells took you so long?” Astarion said with a scowl, rising from his chair and heading straight towards you like an arrow.

You giggled again, throwing your arms in the air. “You stayed up and waited for me!”

Astarion halted abruptly in front of you, hands on both hips. “I don’t sleep as I’m sure you’re aware. What is wrong with you?”

Wyll patted your back reassuringly. “She…drank a pint, and – well… this is the result.”

Suddenly, there were two Astarions standing next to each other and you yelped in shock, flinching back. 

“Why are there two of you?” you asked, pointing at them.

Both of them cocked an elegant eyebrow. “Two of what?”

Odd.

They moved and spoke in perfect unison. 

If one Astarion was already such a headache at times, you couldn’t even begin to fathom what two Astarions would be capable of. 

Driven by curiosity, you tried to reach out to one of them with your hand, but grasped nothing but air as your vision corrected itself and only one Astarion was left.

Really odd.

But entertaining.

He quickly gripped your gesticulating arm by the wrist. “Will you stop it? You’ll hurt yourself.”

The sudden proximity made your stomach turn dangerously, but you were far too amused to care. “ You’ll hurt yourself ,” you mimicked poorly, earning another scowl.

“I let you out of my sight for a few hours and this is the result,” he said with a sigh, then turning to Wyll. “Why would you let her drink a whole pint?”

Wyll rubbed the back of his neck. “She insisted, and I figured she could use the distraction.”

“What happened with Ava?” Astarion pressed.

Oh, Gods… not her again. “Will everyone please stop talking about her? Gods!”

He then pulled you closer to him, not letting go of your wrist, but easing his grip.

His beautiful eyes met yours and you felt yourself swoon, feeling the image of Ava dissipating into thin air.

Gods… he was the most beautiful man to ever grace this earth, no doubt.

Books should be written on his beauty and songs should be sung in his honour.

You felt yourself smile widely at him, feeling a rush of heat flood your face.

You’re so handsome…

His brows immediately furrowed.

Oh.

Shit.

You had said that aloud.

But you stood by it.

Astarion was so very handsome.

The only man who could make you yearn for him and have your heart and soul enamoured by all of him.

Then his face gradually softened. "Well, good thing there are no newshounds nearby. Can you imagine the headlines in tomorrow’s paper about the hero of Baldur’s Gate making a fool of themselves?”

You felt so giddy and drunk in his beauty that you just nodded at every word that spilled from those full lips that you wish you could just–

Whatever you say, handsome…

“Where’s Shadowheart?” you heard Wyll ask.

Astarion shrugged. “No one else is here, and it’s not as if I’m their mother.”

He was so snarky and it just made you almost melt under his touch.

“I can stay if need be.”

You rapidly turned to face Wyll, and immediately felt dizzy as Astarion steadied you. 

“Please stay! We can have a party!” you suggested with a dramatic pout.

Behind you, Astarion scoffed. “I’m quite sure dear Wyll is busy with his Duke duties, darling.”

Wyll chuckled. “I always make time for my friends.”

“Well, I can take it from here,” he retorted and you could spot a hint of disdain in his voice.

So attractive…

Astarion then lifted your arm and wiggled your wrist. “Say goodbye to Wyll, sweetheart.”

You giggled dramatically again. “Goodbye Wyll!”

He took a step forward and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be back tomorrow once I have an update on what we discussed.”

Astarion pulled you away from him at once with a gasp. “Keeping secrets from me? Oh, you two lovebirds.”

Hold on!

No! You weren’t that close to Wyll.

As you were about to protest, Wyll spoke, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound jealous, Astarion.”

“What is there to be jealous of, I wonder?”

You nodded vehemently, finding it utterly amusing how he sounded so territorial all of a sudden.

Adorable man.

Wyll gave a lighthearted chuckle before turning to leave. “Well, I’m sure I can think of a few reasons.”

You laughed way too loudly at his remark, which caused Astarion to click his tongue in annoyance.

Adorable.

The door closed shut behind him, and Astarion immediately spun you on your feet to fully face them.

“What were you thinking? Drinking a pint?”

You couldn’t care less about what he had to say in this moment, and simply glared at his face, your hazy mind reminding you just how much you adored him.

And before you could restrain yourself, the words tumbled from your mouth. “I… I really like you.”

Idiot.

A deafening silence settled around you, and you began to feel an increasing wave of nausea as he merely glared at you.

Then you giggled, trying to disperse the awkwardness as fast as possible.

He didn’t laugh with you, tugging at your hand instead. “I think it’s time to get some sleep, darling.”

Too bad you were clearly incapable of walking in a straight line, which earned his attention. Without a warning, you felt your balance shift rapidly as he scooped you in his arms, effortlessly carrying you along the dim corridor.

“Put me down! Astarion!”

Instinctively, you looped your arms around his neck for support, but still trying to wriggle out of his fierce hold.

“I don’t need to be carried… please put me down,” you whined. “I - I will curse you!”

An amused smile tugged at his lips. “How very ferocious of you. I suppose we should have gotten you drunk more often back then. I’m sure our foes would have fled in horror at the sight of you.”

You slumped into him with a pout. “Mean.”

He pushed the door to your room open with a nudge from his shoulder, before easing you back on your two feet again.

The room was plunged in darkness and you felt him shift away from you, setting alight a single candle next to your bed, and you blinked a few times to adjust to the clarity.

You were now entering the less amusing stage of your insobriety and you could feel yourself scowl at him, clumsily crossing your arms.

“I should have hexed you.”

“Darling, the only thing you’ll be hexing in that state is a doorknob.”

You snorted at his playful jab. “I was perfectly capable of walking!”

“Into a wall? Yes, indeed.”

He then moved back to your side, helping you out of your cloak and quickly wrapping a blanket around you.

The simple gesture was enough to melt your defiant demeanour at once.

The two of you stood there in silence, eyes locked and you found yourself wishing he’d kiss you, but you knew he never would.

Astarion valued consent above all else, and he would not cross any lines. Each time you had gotten ahead of yourself in terms of sobriety, he always reigned you in.

And that was just one of the many things you adored about him.

How safe he made you feel and how you knew he’d never take advantage of your vulnerability. 

“You need to properly rest,” he urged, ensuring the thick fabric around you was tucked properly in place.

Just as you were about to head to bed, you felt the room tilt to the left and you yelped, clutching onto him for support.

“I’m going to fall!” 

The walls around you began to swirl and sway and your own legs wobbled.

A genuine laughter rumbled across his chest as he patted your back. “You silly little goose. Your warped mind is playing tricks on you.”

That term of endearment caught you slightly off guard and your heart fluttered.

Gods…

Why was he so easy to love?

Or was this the alcohol talking? Were you truly so far gone, that the alcohol was merely making it easier to surface your feelings?

Either way, you wouldn’t voice them, and allowed him to guide you to your bed, helping you to slip under the bedsheets. 

It felt rather good being taken care of this way. 

Maybe he didn’t think of this as anything but a nuisance, but you were grateful, nonetheless. 

“Thank you…” you mumbled in a whisper, gripping his hand.

The ceiling was now begging to spin dangerously fast and you had to close your eyes to help with the overwhelming sensory overload. 

He didn’t reply back, but you felt him tugging his hand away from your grasp.

A sudden shiver of panic coursed through your body. “Please stay? You always leave…”

Please…

He relaxed his cool hand against yours.

Slowly, you peeled back an eyelid only to see him easing onto the spot next to you over the covers.

You turned on your side to glare at him and he mimicked you, meeting your eyes in silence.

“How do you feel?”

In love.

“Well…”

He nodded and you smiled warmly at him, probably looking rather silly, but too mesmerised by his face to even look away.

“May I touch you?” you asked hesitantly.

He arched his brow, but nodded.

You lifted your hand and with a single finger, you began to slowly trace the bridge of his nose, admiring how he didn’t just look perfect…

He felt perfect…

“You’re so beautiful…” you sighed, feeling the slight bump of his nose as you trailed down to his lips. “So… so beautiful.”

He chuckled deviously. “I’m all for praise, darling… do go on.”

And you wanted to, but you were beginning to feel lightheaded, and your hand dropped from his face and your eyes dropped close.

“Or not…” you heard him say.

His voice seemed so distant now as drowsiness enveloped your senses. A part of you wished you could trace all of his face with the pad of your finger, worshipping every inch of him.

“Please, don’t leave…” you found yourself repeating.

He clicked his tongue. “I will if you vomit on me.”

You giggled, managing to shift closer to his body and rest your head on his still chest. “Deal, handsome…”

Your heated body welcomed his coldness, and it didn’t take long for your busy mind to progressively quiet down as you drifted off into a pleasant sleep.

It was the soft click of a door being shut that roused you from your sleep. With eyes still closed, you flipped onto your back with a pained groan as your body was hit with the aftermath of last night.

“Rise and shine,” Astarion’s honeyed voice filled the room.

You stretched yourself with a yawn, feeling your mouth dry as sawdust and an overwhelming thirst that nearly made you sob.

“I’m never drinking again…” you whined pitifully. 

The mattress dipped slightly next to you. “Well, how do you feel today?”

“Like death…”

“Your breath definitely reeks of it,” he said, voice dripping with disapproval. “I drew you a bath, as I anticipated you’d need one.”

At this, your eyes flew open. “Is this your chivalrous way of telling me I stink?” you grumbled, trying to make sense of your surroundings. 

The curtains were no longer drawn and the faint light bleeding from the top and bottom was enough to tell you the sun had already risen. 

He took your hand in his, tugging gently until you were sitting in front of him with your legs crossed. “Darling, you’re free to bask in that dreadful stench for all I care.”

You shot him a serious glare before bursting into laughter. “Good point. I need to get off these clothes…”

Astarion helped you on your feet and you carefully paced across the wooden floor and into the washroom.

A pleasant smell hit you as you stepped inside, with him following closely behind.

“I borrowed a few bath salts from Gale,” he informed, pointing to the round tub in the middle of the room, almost filled to the brim with steamy water. 

You glared at him in disbelief. “Borrowed as in… stolen?”

He shrugged.

You knew him too well.

“He does have a decent selection, yet manages to always carry the most interesting smells around,” he said, bringing you over to the large basin under a round mirror. “I minced peppermint and it should help with your breath,” he added, handing you a glass of water.

You did as he advised and took a gulp, rinsing your mouth eagerly before spitting the content onto the basin.

“So… are you going to tell me how the conversation with Ava went?”

Wiping your lips clean with a rag, you gave him a look.

“It could have gone worse, I suppose.”

“Charming,” he said. “Worse as in ‘I almost killed her’ or ‘She made me want to pluck my eyes out’?”

“All of the above, maybe,” you said with a roll of your eyes.

To be fair, after hearing her reasoning, she didn’t come across as that bad. But you couldn’t help but to still feel wary of her intentions in the long run.

Astarion was studying your face intensely as you emptied the glass of water to quench your thirst, the minty aftertaste doing wonders to your throat.

“Anything in particular I should know about?”

Besides her wanting to take my blood? Nothing at all, you thought grimly.

You merely shook your head.

“I’ll be waiting outside, then.”

Right.

Bath time.

You took a quick look in the mirror and nearly groaned out loud from the sight of your weary face.

Just as you were trying to strip the shirt you had on, you huffed in annoyance, which earned his attention before he slipped out of the washroom.

“You need help.”

You tried to pull the sleeve, but your body ached too much to comply. “I need help.”

Astarion slowly crossed the room again, and swiftly helped you out of your shirt.

You hissed as his cold knuckles brushed against your bare stomach. “Cold, cold…” you said, teeth jittering.

Being naked in front o fhim had long lost some of its inherent sexual meaning. It used to make you feel too exposed and only when the two of you were about to indulge in one another.

Now, it felt like something casual.

His stare didn’t linger on your breasts for too long or on your now hardening nipples.

“I apologise,” he said with a smile. “Let’s get you out of these next.”

Skilled fingers worked on the front of your trousers, undoing them slowly before carefully dropping on one knee and pulling them down along your thighs.

You had to look away to hide the rush of heat that had settled on your face.

Now that felt too intimate…

He tugged at your underwear next and shiveres began to prickle along your body.

You suddenly felt too exposed. 

Astarion had seen you this bare since you last slept together before reaching Moonrise Towers.

And this new predicament had your heart strumming hard in your chest.

You slipped out of your trousers and looked down to meet his crimson eyes. “What?”

“May I kiss you?”

You swallowed. Hard. “Where?”

He leaned in to press his cold lips to the dip of your hip, lingering for a few seconds before pulling away and rising to his full height again.

Gods…

“Do you need my help getting inside?” he asked and you could see it .

You could see the lust in his eyes.

You could hear the faint innuendo in his words.

And you could feel the familiar throb between your legs increasing.

“Yes…”

He promptly gripped your hand and you lifted each leg to dip into the nicely heated water, its surface covered in frothy suds. 

Slowly, you lowered yourself into a sitting position before leaning back.

Astarion placed a folded towel under your neck, so you could easily relax against the wooden tub as you sank below the waterline.  

“May I wash you?” he asked, settling himself on his knees behind you.

You immediately nodded, gripping the edges and trying your best to ignore the swell in between your folds.

It was almost embarrassing how easily he could turn you on with mostly his words and intonation. 

Your eyes fluttered shut and you jolted briefly when you felt a soft sponge being dragged from your neck and down your breasts.

A sigh parted your lips and you arched your back instinctively, just enough to raise your nipples above the waterline as he grazed each of them in circular motions.

You instantly clenched around nothing, knowing fully well that it would have driven him insane had his cock been buried inside you.

A second moan was heard when he started planting soft kisses along your jaw while his hand kept on gliding the sponge down your abdomen.

“Does that feel good?” he whispered in between kisses.

Your legs parted as you welcomed his ministrations. 

With his other hand he gripped your jaw and applied enough pressure until the back of your head hit his chest, his thumb caressingly you lovingly.

A strained whimper erupted from you when the sponge reached your folds, deliciously caressing the growing swell in between.

Your hips rolled a few times to increase the friction and you begged the Gods above to have him use his fingers instead…

“Please… Astarion…”

He planted a lingering kiss on your lips, pressing the sponge against you so you could grind desperately on it.

“Does it feel good, darling?”

“Use your fingers… please…” you begged against his lips, squeezing your legs together to trap his hand as you gripped the edges of the tub for support.

He chuckled darkly, dropping the sponge and he had to cover your mouth with his other hand to muffle a loud moan as he slid one finger along your folds.

“Do you remember how many you could take?”

Your eyes rolled shut as lust clouded your senses, hips rolling at a faster pace.

All you remembered was struggling to fit his cock inside at first…

The pad of his finger teased your swell a few times before he moved to place it at your entrance.

“Answer me.”

You could cry from the despair alone as he refused to slide a single one inside.

“I - I… two? Astarion… please… ”

He chuckled teasingly in response, and you 

The door to the washroom burst open, causing him to detach from you at once.

Shadowheart.

You let out a yelp, sinking until you were neck-deep in water.

“Ever heard of knocking?” Astarion’s words were dripping with poison.

“Even heard of not greeting people with... that?”

From this position you were almost at eye-level with his lower half, giving you a privileged view of his rather generous bulge, strained against his own trousers.

You felt heat flare in your cheeks as you remembered just how easily he would drip precum for you.

She hurriedly crossed the room and threw a robe at you. “Dress up. Quickly .”

Lust quickly turned into panic from the way Shadowheart glared worriedly at you.

“What happened?”

“Gale is leaving,” she said. “We just received word from Waterdeep that his contact has been killed.”

TBC

[its-your-mind]

ORV as textposts 43/???

[Photo ID - 10 cropped images from the ORV manhwa with text posts pasted upon them.

The first image shows Kim Dokja smiling with his eyes closed and raising his hand in greeting. The text post is by Tumblr user wizard-email. It reads, "YOU might be crushed under the weight of your own hubris. im ok tho."

The second image is an aerial shot of Yoo Joonghyuk kneeling with a sword in each hand. His head is bowed, and there are bloodstains visible on his black clothes. The text post is by Twitter user Alpha Male (real) @/SortaBad. It reads, "People say 'I'm here for a good time, not a long time' which is weird because I am having a bad time and this is taking forever."

The third image is a close up of Kim Dokja smiling ominously. The text post is a "Notes" section from Archive of Our Own. It reads, "Surprise bitch, I bet you thought you've seen the last of me."

The fourth image shows Han Sooyoung drawn in a slightly simpler and more cartoonish manner. The text post is by Tumblr user toffeestudies. It reads, "yes i am smart. yes i am stupid. it's called being flexible."

The fifth image shows Yoo Joonghyuk with a slightly frustrated look on his face while Kim Dokja smiles behind him. The text bubble originating from Kim Dokja reads, "Good to see you!" The text post are two grey texts with their tails pointed toward Kim Dokja. The first text reads, "you're life would be so boring without me." The second text reads, "admit it."

The sixth image is a close up of Kim Namwoon smiling with an extreme look on his face while his eyes glow red. The text post is by Tumblr user gorcerycores. It reads, "okay i'll bite. chomp even. kill perhaps. maybe even maim."

The seventh image shows Kim Dokja with his hand held up to get someone's attention while he sweats with a slightly nervous expression. The text post is by Tumblr user duckdotcom. It reads, "are you mad at me? would you like to be"

The eighth image shows Bihyung pointing upwards and smiling while he looks down. Action lines are drawn around his head to show excitement. The text post is a notification with a car emoji and two lines of text. The first, smaller line of text reads, "Take a break and have fun." The second, slightly larger line of text reads, "Schedule time for car accident."

The ninth image shows Yoo Joonghyuk punching Kim Dokja with his face covered in shadows except for his eyes to show anger. The text post is by Twitter user Rodney @/SkinnyTuna. It reads, "ass or tits? bro her right hook .im bleedi"

The final image shows Jung Heewon and Lee Jihye unsheathing their swords while Kim Dokja looks on in the center of the background. The text post is by Tumblr user king-monky. It reads, "yeah i understand women. they all want daggers and swords. it's quite simple really" /End ID]

ID by the incomparable @incorrect-web-novels ty so very much!!

[cookiekissers]

Mango plisplis I beg u in my knees nsfw wind archer shot or hcs please there’s not enough content of him pls i want to see how u write him plisplis 😢😢😢😢

🔥🔞 [Wind Archer x Reader NSFT]

Wind Archer my boy let's gooooooooooo also the premise for this one may be a little silly lmao but it's smut for smuts sake

The underground passageways were choked with darkness, filled with the sounds of something writhing and squelching just out of view. Things slunk in and out of the shadow just out of the corner of your eye, and you clung to Wind Archer Cookie's arm, feeling unease grip your dough.

You had joined Wind Archer Cookie in his mission to find the dark heart of Dark Enchantress' facility. On your end, your task was much simpler, mainly recon and stealing any sensitive documents to discover what the Cookies of Darkness' future plans were.

"We should split up from here." You suggested quietly. Wind Archer Cookie gave you a look of surprise. It was an unexpected proposition considering you were clinging to his arm. "That way we can find what we're both after and get out of here quickly." You added.

"Y/N Cookie, I can't let you go off by yourself. What if something happens and I'm not there?" Wind Archer Cookie said with a frown. You pulled away from Wind Archer with a small smile and unsheathed your ornate forest short sword.

"Don't worry about me, alright? I can handle myself." You reassure, sliding your sword back into its scabbard.

At least you would have been under normal circumstances. You massively underestimated the evil lurking within the depths of this cursed facility. Catching things moving from the corner of your eye as if someone was following you, shadows seemingly moving by themselves, and eyes watching your every movement.

You held your sword at the ready tensely as you snuck down the empty hall. A distinct laugh echoed from the darkness ahead, sending a wave of chills through your dough. Through the gloom, you could almost make out a faint silhouette of a Cookie...

Wind Archer Cookie slid out of the slimy drain pipe into the welcoming embrace of nature that surrounded the Laboratorium. In his haste to escape, he had completely forgotten that you were still inside the facility. Despite his exhaustion and injuries, he had to go back in to rescue you as he sensed something was terribly wrong.

Wind Archer Cookie panted and collected himself, but before he could take a step towards the Laboratorium, the snapping of a twig made him whip around and reflexively draw his bow. You stumbled out of the undergrowth and collapsed, your forest short sword dropping with a heavy thud onto the mossy ground.

"Y/N Cookie!!" Wind Archer Cookie gasped, and withdrew his bow. He ran to your side and flipped you onto your back to check for injuries.

There was a flash of silver and Wind Archer forcefully caught your wrist before you could plunge a dagger into his chest. He grunted with effort as you fought with everything you had in you.

"Y/N Cookie, what are you doing?!" Wind Archer Cookie exclaimed as he struggled to keep you at bay. Your eyes were unnaturally bright blue, and the mark of the Beast of Deceit branded on your left eye.

"Did you think it would be that easy to escape, Greenski?" Shadow Milk Cookie's demented voice fell from your lips, making Wind Archer's jam run cold.

You suddenly gritted your teeth and arched your back as you fought the possession, you gasped and cried out. Wrestling with your own limbs like they were being controlled by invisible strings.

"Wind Archer Cookie, help me!!" You shouted. Wind Archer Cookie hesitated. He felt helpless as he struggled to control your flailing limbs and wrestle the knife from your hand. He couldn't use his arrows to purify you and risk harming you, and at this close range he didn't have even a moment to draw his bow.

"Do something!" You cried again, tears spilling from your eyes. You clutched desperately at the grassy floor, as you battled to keep a hold of your own mind.

"Aww no fair, its two against one!" Shadow Milk Cookie cackled in your head.

"Do it! Do it, Y/N Cookie! After you make that pesky Green Bean into a salad, you can come and be mine instead."

The tormenting laughter echoed in your head and it wasn't long before you couldn't tell reality from illusion anymore. You weren't able to see what you were doing clearly, Wind Archer Cookie's appearance swimming and shifting right before your eyes. All you could focus on was restraining your hand that clutched the knife that was aiming to stab the Cookie who was so precious to you.

Wind Archer Cookie grimaced as he finally knock the dagger from your hand and pinned your wrists to the forest floor. He had a way to heal and free you of the Beast's control, but it was unconventional and unseemly. He couldn't see another way out of this that didn't harm you.

Wind Archer Cookie would have to use his body to purify you.

"Don't worry, Y/N Cookie. I can help you. But... I need you to trust me." He murmured. "I will do everything in my power to free you from this Beast." Wind Archer Cookie promised firmly.

"I-I trust you. Do it!" You grunted.

Wind Archer Cookie gulped. Though he knew what he must do to save you, he still felt nervous. This was a difficult path he chose, one that he hoped that both of you wouldn't regret by the end.

Wind Archer Cookie leaned over you and pressed his lips against yours, kissing you gently and tenderly. His lips moved softly against yours, slowly, sweetly. Your eyelids flickered closed as you let yourself be swept away by the warmth of his touch. The familiar feeling of the forest and its life giving energy filled you, making you feel lighter for a brief moment. Wing Archer Cookie pulled away abruptly, leaving you gasping for breath. He gazed into you eyes intently, hoping it was enough to drive Shadow Milk Cookie from your mind.

You body twitched and your eyes snapped open.

"Ohh, how romantic! Greenie, you dog, kissing Y/N Cookie like that! Is there something you want to tell them?" Shadow Milk Cookie's voice taunted. Wind Archer Cookie recoiled slightly.

It hadn't been enough to release you from the Beast's grip.

Wind Archer Cookie knew that he must take much more drastic measures, though he wished it hadn't come to this. His heart ached when he saw the pain flash across your face and you were losing the battle to Shadow Milk Cookie's control, but he couldn't bring himself to hesitate now.

He roughly tugging your pants off, revealing your naked form.

"W-Wind Archer Cookie!" You stammered in surprise. Wind Archer Cookie ignored the heat rising in his cheeks.

"Please trust me, Y/N Cookie..." He pleaded in desperation. Your eyes widened as you realized what Wind Archer Cookie had to do. You face flushed but you nodded with determination.

"It's ok. Let's do it." You replied. Wind Archer Cookie gave you a weak smile gratefully as he bent low over you, pressing his lips to yours once more in a deep, passionate kiss. It was an oath, a promise that Wind Archer Cookie would protect you from this evil infesting your body. Your thighs trembled in anticipation as Wind Archer Cookie pulled down his pants while he kissed you with every ounce of passion he possessed.

He had always wanted to do this with you, but he wished your first time together didn't have to be under duress.

Wind Archer Cookie gently guided himself to your entrance, he kept his lips locked with yours to distract you, and took great care not to hurt you. A pinch of momentary pain made you gasp against the wind guardian's lips as he pushed inside you. You clenched tightly around him. Wind Archer Cookie pushed down onto the soft patch of earth beneath you, groaning deeply as you instinctively opened up underneath him until he was buried completely in your heat. You moaned quietly, letting out a small whimper. The sound sent shivers down his back.

Wind Archer gripped your hips tightly, holding you steady as he began thrusting slowly into you. Your legs trembled as you tried to get comfortable around him. You could already feel your core clenching as the pleasure began to build in your abdomen. Wind Archer Cookie watched as your face flushed, beads of sugar sweat beginning to form along your forehead. He bit back a moan, you felt so good. Your insides were hot and tight just like he had always imagined.

He began to move faster, his pace increasing with each thrust. You cried out and clutched onto the wind guardian's shoulders, your body trembled with pleasure and your legs automatically wrapped around Wind Archer's hips. The air was filled with the sound of your moaning and the lewd sounds of Wind Archer's hips slamming against you. You writhed beneath him as Wind Archer Cookie continued to pound into you relentlessly. You could barely breathe as the pleasure built faster and stronger. Suddenly, your eyes flew open, the invisible strings tied to you forcing you to jolt up and sink your teeth into the dough of Wind Archer Cookie's shoulder. He gasped.

"Hang in there, Y/N Cookie!" Wind Archer Cookie grunted. "Keep fighting the Beast!" He encouraged. Your jaws tightened as he drove deeper and deeper into you, biting him harder with every stroke. Wind Archer Cookie adjusted his position quickly, pinning you against the soil as he pistoned his cock into you faster and harder than before. The new position made you see stars as Wind Archer hit you in just the right place.

The wind guardian's breathing became ragged as he was approaching his limit. After one final thrust, he came undone inside of you, filling you to the brim with his warm seed. You cried out Wind Archer's name as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. The knot in your stomach snapped, opening the floodgates, and the intense waves of pleasure crashed over you as an orgasm wracked your body. Wind Archer Cookie held you tightly as you both panted hard and came down from your highs.

With the throbbing of Wind Archer Cookie's cock inside you, you felt the purifying energy of the forest thrum within you. The hold that Shadow Milk Cookie had on you faded, and you felt a sense of peace wash over you now that your mind was finally calm. Wind Archer Cookie let go of you slowly, placing affectionate kisses along your forehead and neck as he slipped out of you, his cum dripping from your entrance.

"Y/N Cookie... are you alright?" Wind Archer asked worriedly. You looked up at him with a soft smile.

"Yeah... I'm ok. Better than ok, actually." You laughed quietly. Wind Archer Cookie avoided your eyes for a moment.

"I'm sorry I let this happen. And... that we had to do this." He frowned, a look of shame crossing his face. You quickly cupped Wind Archer Cookie's face in your hands reassuringly.

"No, no, it's ok, really!" You insisted. "Honestly, do you think we could... go for another round?" You requested shyly. The wind guardian's eyes widened and his face almost went entirely red.

"Y/N Cookie, now is not that time for that. We have to report back to Millennial Tree Cookie." Wind Archer Cookie huffed bashfully.

"O-Oh, yeah. We should probably get out of here anyway." You replied, your face flushing in embarrassment.

The two of you fixed your appearances the best you could after the passionate and intense activity. Brushing leaves and dirt from your clothing. You tried to stand but your legs wobbled like they were made of jelly and you couldn't walk a few steps without stumbling.

Wind Archer Cookie swiftly scooped you up into his arms bridal style.

"Here, I got you." He said. You couldn't help but blush.

"Thanks..." You replied. It was quiet for a long moment as Wind Archer Cookie carried you through the untamed floral of Beast-Yeast's forest. He cleared his throat a little, suddenly hiding his reddening cheeks with his scarf.

"When we get back home, we could... continue. If you want." Wind Archer Cookie offered hesitantly. You blushed brightly and nodded.

"I would really like that." You replied eagerly.

[jiyansthesis]

LEON KENNEDY (post-re4) x reader

summary — you and leon never thought what would lead to the two of you fucking would be a surprise zombie and an aphrodisiac

note — a little something i had in the drafts for a while. i was gonna post it when re4make came out but i totally forgot. might as well post it while im getting traction on my other leon post ^^

tags — smut, aphrodisiac, basically in public, rough, overstimulation, fem bodied reader, fem implied pet names

i am not responsible for any minors that interact + nsfw below the cut

not proofread

"we're gonna get our asses kicked," you groaned, focusing on the scope of your gun which you used to survey your surroundings.

"no, you're gonna get your ass kicked. i can hold my own," leon shot back, trailing ahead of you.

there was a red wash over the two of you as you ran down the hallway, attempting to look for some vials before they get destroyed by the zombies lurking around.

"you don't happen to know where these serums are, do you?" you questioned, a zombie coming out the shadows only for you to quickly aim and fire your gun at its head, it immediately flying backwards to land lifelessly on the floor. "this is like some bad game of whack-a-mole. except without the hammer. and the moles are zombies. and we could possibly die. i'm getting tired of it."

"do you ever stop talking?" he opened a door, revealing a room with cabinets of liquids and something that looked like a chamber with a glass window.

"adding a bit of fun into this mission, leon. i can't just walk around shooting zombies and not have something to say."

he grunted, and went over to the cabinets, grabbing a container of blue liquid.

"this is it. i'll get all of these, you keep watch." you nodded in acknowledgement, considering the fact that leon was your superior.

you peered out the hallway you had come from, saw that it was clear, and shut the door, locking it.

then you decided to go into the connecting room, just in case something was in there.

the red emergency light was still messing with your eyes, and so you turned on your flashlight, scanning the room.

there were more bottles of substances. but it didn't look like the blue ones leon was getting. these ones were a reddish-pink, and had a certain glow to them. you stepped closer to it to examine it, but you swung around as soon as you heard a growl. you unsheathed the dagger around your waist.

the blade lodged in the zombie's throat, your reaction time saving you as usual. it crumpled over, but bumped into the display, causing the cases to break.

you thought it was a liquid, but it was like you could see the cloud of fumes rise from the broken vials. quickly you put a hand over your mouth and nose and ran out the room, but not before you caught a whiff of the strangely sweet, almost sugary flower smell.

you shut the heavy doors behind you, and let out a gasp of air. leon looked towards you, hurrying over as you fell to your knees.

"hey, you alright? what happened?" he held onto your arms, lifting you up and placing you in an office chair.

"th-there was a zombie. i killed it and it. . . it bumped into these flasks of pink stuff." your hands went to wrap around your stomach, a cramp suddenly appearing.

"pink stuff?" he asked

"yeah," you grimaced with pain. "there was this thing that came out of the broken tubes. it was like a gas or something."

"and how are you feeling right now?"

you felt immensely uncomfortable. there was a cramp in your lower abdomen and it felt like something was dripping out of you. your legs squirmed, not liking the feeling of your wet panties.

"i can-can't explain it." you stammered out. you think you know what were in those things, but you didn't want to make it awkward for you and leon. of course, you've known him since raccoon city, and congratulated him when he came back with the president's daughter. but you knew damn well you guys weren't this close.

even if you desperately wished you were.

"it hurts there?" he gestured to your hand over your abdomen, you nodded.

"it might've been something toxic." he glanced around the room at all the computers, lucky enough to find one that was unlocked.

you heard him type away as you shut your eyes. the pain was becoming excruciating, and you didn't know why you felt your crotch throbbing.

not only that, but your thoughts were bunching up, and you couldn't think straight. what were you here for again?

"hey, i think i know what it is." you felt him nudge you. "but you might not like it."

"i think i know what it is too. doesn't take much thinking to find out." you winced as you shifted in your seat.

he raised an eyebrow. "you know?"

"it's obviously an aphrodisiac. there's no other explanation." you slurred out.

"well, it's not a normal one. normal ones wear off with time, but this one. . . you need something for it to wear off. or you might die."

"die!?" you exclaimed, ignoring the pain of you suddenly standing upright. this definitely cleared your mind. "for fucks sake, leon. i didn't want to die from a fucking drug today!"

he let out a breath of air. "it's easily fixable. but i need you to trust me." his voice got a bit more husky.

"i always trust you, leon." you assured him. he hesitated, and slowly lowered you back down on the seat.

his fingers ghosted over the waistband of your tactical pants. "may i?" he looked up to you. never in a million years would you have thought you'd have leon kennedy under you.

you could already tell what had to be done for you to get rid of this feeling, and you gave him the okay. well, at least you get to have one of your fantasies out the way while also avoiding death from aphrodisiac.

he pulled down your pants, quickly followed by your underwear.

"didn't think to tell me about what was happening down here?" he smirked. "you're so wet."

you whined at the cold air, and urged him to hurry up and stop teasing you.

he followed your request, and instead of inching in his fingers like you'd expected, he immediately latched onto your dripping cunt, and you arched your back.

"leon, fuck!" you moaned out, a hand immediately going to grab a handful of his hair.

he hummed in amusement, leading you to clench your thighs around his head. leon quickly moved his hands to grab your plush thighs and spread them apart, locking them in place no matter how hard you tried to escape it.

it was like he wasn't even thinking about the aphrodisiac. it was all for his and your pleasure, rather than as an extremely awkward and embarrassing task that had to be done. or he was just too good at the job at hand.

every stroke of his tongue had your legs shaking, and you pulled at his hair every time he sucked on your clit too hard. it felt like a few minutes before you felt the buildup of something in your stomach, quickly overshadowing the pain you had previously felt.

"leon, m' gonna-"

his hands left your legs and went straight to your pussy. "make a mess for me, baby," he said as your hips bucked up violently and you let out what was almost a scream.

you panted, and you thought that at this point you'd be satisfied, the pain would be gone, and the two of you could put this all behind you and go on your merry way.

but you were wrong. it was like it got even worse.

your thoughts were scrambled, and all you could think about was the bulge in his pants. and it definitely wasn't his gun.

"why'd you have to do. . . all that?" you stammered out. you also realized he called you baby. your cheeks became even hotter.

"can't get my gloves dirty. and i wanted a taste." he winked. "are you feeling better?"

you shook your head, involuntarily grinding against the seat. maybe if you imagined it was his thigh. . . you wouldn't have to ask him to fuck you senseless. you were already shameless enough, with the fact he had just finished eating you out like his final supper, and the effects of the aphrodisiac were not helping.

just the sound of his voice and his smell was enough to send you into a frenzy.

"do you need some more help?" he began unbuckling his pants.

"yes, need mo' help," you whined. you never thought what would get you into leon s. kennedy's pants would have to be a mystery sex drug in a science lab. if you knew, maybe you would've done this way beforehand.

you almost drooled at how big he was. you would've put your lips right around him at that moment, but he was already lining himself up with you entrance.

"you ready, princess?"

"jus' hurry up," you moved your hips closer to him, sliding the tip inside which caused you to whimper. deciding not to let you suffer any longer, he slammed the rest of his throbbing cock inside of you. with every thrust he did, you were a whining, blabbering mess.

"does that feel good?" he whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. you could tell that the effects of the drug were making you more sensitive.

"s' good leon," you threw your arms around his neck and brought him down for a kiss, which he quickly reciprocated. he was biting on your lips, his tongue occasionally slipping through your lips.

"i fucking love the sounds you make," he got out once the two of you broke away for air. it was like he was feral and had the aphrodisiac himself, pounding into you without giving you time to breathe.

"fuck, leon, don't stop," you could feel tears streaming down your face as your mouth gaped wide open to let out all your noises.

no doubt you were attracting monsters, but that didn't matter when you had this hot man you've been pinning for for years making you dumb on his cock.

he admired the way he had you already clawing for whatever you could grab a hold on, which was his back, and the look that you gave him.

he'd wanted to fuck you for so long, although that developed from him falling in love after the events in raccoon city. you'd kept him sane, believe it or not.

thank god he had this reason to finally have you under him.

"you gonna cum for me, yeah?" he began relentlessly hitting your g-spot, which had you screaming. he left open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

you didn't answer. or well, you couldn't with how he practically fucked the breath out of you.

not receiving an answer, he quickly took you out the chair and placed you on top of the table. you whined as he pulled out, but were quickly shut up by him thrusting inside of you again.

and just when you thought it couldn't get any better, the new angle caused him to almost brush up against your cervix. his hand made its way to your tummy and pressed down on the slight bump, making your hands fly up to cover your mouth.

"hey, pretty girl. i want to hear everything." he persuaded you to place your hands to stabilize yourself on the office desk.

"i-mm, i think i'm gonna make a mess," you warned.

"you gonna come for me? good girl," he praised, and with those words he hungrily pressed his lips to yours, devouring your sounds of ecstasy as you convulsed with your climax.

you started feeling overstimulated, the pain and sensitivity mixing in with the pleasure.

"le-leon, jus' cum in me," you pleaded, feeling your third climax coming already. maybe it was because you were practically intoxicated, or it was because you haven't had sex in so long, but you were almost self-conscious about how short of a time it took for you to cum.

"yeah? you want me to fill you up baby? do i make you feel too good?" a pool of your cum was pooling on the desk.

"yes! wan' you to, wan' you to," you trailed off as he grunted and let out a few soft, low moans, and you felt a warmth seep inside of you.

slowly he pulled out, which still had you twitch, and he looked almost apologetic about that. he searched the place for something to clean you up with, before ripping a piece off an abandoned lab coat, and slowly wiping you up with it. the table on the other hand, required the whole coat to wipe up.

he helped you put your pants back on as you regained and put your thoughts back in order.

"holy shit, we're at least twenty minutes late from meeting up at the extraction point," you checked the watch on your wrist. the two of you scurry to grab all your things as well as what you came here for, and went on your out the building. leon then called chris, who was pissed about the time delay.

as you left, it was strangely silent, as if the two of you had scared the monsters away rather than attract them.

"never thought that'd ever happen," you admitted as the two of you made it outside and to the rendezvous.

"never thought i'd fuck you during a mission in the middle of nowhere." he agreed. "how about dinner later, pretty girl?"

"isn't it a bit late for that?"

"it's never too late to take a lady like you on a fancy date. you deserve it." he shouted as the wind from a helicopter overtook your hearing.

"hmm, i'll think about it!" you grinned, saluting. "nice work out there."

"if that was my real job, i'd be doing it all the time."

[viperixsworld]

Born to die

━━ Benjicot Blackwood x oc

Chapther two: proposal

Year 126 A.C

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Benjicot Blackwood remembered little of his mother. He remembered slightly wavy, honey-coloured hair, and large, expressive eyes that he himself had inherited. He was six years old when she died. He remembered that she had a good heart, everyone at Raventree Hall adored her. Soldiers, servants, cooks, grooms, stable hands, all charmed by Lady Blackwood.

Ten years had passed since a terrible fever had taken her. Ben's father, Samwell Blackwood, Lord of Raventree Hall, wept by the bedside. It was the first and last time he had seen him cry. He was a good guy, respected by his men and vassals. Not so much by the neighbours, as one might say. The Brackens didn't like him much.

But then, the Brackens don't even respect themselves.

And neither did Ben.

The Well Tavern was a place frequented by men between the Red Fork and the Blue Fork. Both Bracken's and Blackwood's. The owner of this tavern, an old man with one eye and three golden teeth, had forbidden them to fight in his establishment.

There they were that spring night, Ben Blackwood and two of his loyal friends, Corvin and Jon. Both boys from Blackwood's house, both of whom he had known since he was born. His father considered him young to frequent such places, for it was not good for a young lord's reputation. But that did not detract from the fact that he did it anyway.

It was fun, the festive atmosphere and the drunken tales. Ben had had two pints, not enough to get him drunk, but enough to be amused by the nonsense a much drunker Corvin was spewing from his mouth.

"...and then the bloke said "but that's not where to put it" "cackled the young man.

The whole table erupted in laughter and banging. Ben slapped Jon on the back as he nearly choked on his beer. That brought more laughter to the Blackwood men's table. But the revelry ended as soon as the tavern doors burst open.

The place fell silent, the musicians abruptly gave way, and the men at the table turned their gazes to the doors.

Aeron Bracken and six men in golden colours and a red stallion. They seized a table and called the barkeeper, under the watchful eyes of the Blackwoods. The tension could be cut with a dagger, not even the best beer in the Arbor could lighten the mood.

Ben sipped his beer, one hand near his belt where he held a sword and another knife strapped to his back camouflaged in his clothes.

Then one of the Brackens bumped into a drunken Jon. The young stable boy was considerably small compared to the Bracken man, who stood there staring at him.

The two collided forehead to forehead, foot to foot. Ben rose from his seat, in an attempt to separate his friend from the Bracken bouncer.

"That's it! My friend and I go that way and you go this way".

"Are you scared, Blackwood?" teased Aeron.

"I don't feel like smashing your face in a tavern, Bracken," he replied, "We're leaving".

Aeron also stood up and unsheathed his sword, aiming it at Benjicot's back. Blackwood stood still. He had been told to stay away from fighting, to save his strength and momentum for his lessons and important battles to come, and not to waste them in taverns with childish brawls.

He took Jon by the shoulders, to take him to the table with his other friends and leave the dreaded tavern. The hour was late, tomorrow would be a new day and the alcohol was beginning to dampen morale.

"And little Benji comes running back to his mummy's skirts" mocked one of the Bracken boys "Oh wait!, that's right, his bitch of a mother has been in hell for years now, like all the Blackwood heathens".

His father was going to be very angry.

It took a second for the tavern to turn into a pitched battle. Grab what you can and hit the enemy with it. A classic Blackwood versus Bracken as usual since the age of the Heroes.

The offence against the late Lady Blackwood and the ancient gods could not be retaliated against by the lords of Raventree Hall. Jim, the landlord of the tavern, tried to calm the shouting match, trying to move the quarrel out of the establishment at least.

Corvin saw the disadvantage. There were seven of them against the three men from Blackwood House. The boy lifted Jon off the floor, kicking a drunk who had thrown himself on top of him.

"You go get the horses, I'll grab..."

A circle formed where the Brackens were previously seated. Shouts of fighting echoed off the stone walls. Jon looked at Corvin with concern. The latter nudged the former, indicating his previous order, as he reached for the young lord.

Ben was in the middle of the bloody circle. Straddling a Bracken, the one who had dared to speak ill of his mother, brutally beating his face, to the point that Corvin couldn't tell which of them it was.

After that beating, not even the bastard's mother could recognise him.

The boy tried to get Ben's attention, but his young lord seemed possessed by rage. Bracken blood splattered on his face, his gaze unfocused, his tongue between his teeth in an almost satisfied grimace.

"Ben! Oi! Come on, mate!"

Corvin grabbed his master by the shoulders, trying to lift him off the Bracken before he sent him to his false gods. Dodging a blow, Ben seemed to snap out of his reverie.

"Come on, let's get out of here, mate," Corvin pointed, guiding the boy towards the exit.

Outside, Jon was waiting with the horses. Once saddled, the three rode into the night along the road to Raventree Hall. They reached the entrance to the Blackwood ancestral home as the sun rose over the horizon.

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The sun was rising in the east and Lucrezcia had not slept a wink all night.

A ringing in her ears, the spring heat made her sweat, and her quarters in Oldtown were ugly to say the least.

Her only solace was the company of Lady Blackwood. Alyssane had accompanied them from Honeyholt to Oldtown on their quest to find a new master for their house. Along the way, she had advised her and told her all about her home.

The stories about the Riverlands had become a moment of peace amidst the relentless search for husbands. Between dates and teas, Aly and Lucrezcia would go out riding to clear their heads.

Her father had finally managed to get his wonderful horse from the island by boat. A dornish stallion with a black coat and white mane, as big as a carriage and as strong as a bull.

Lucrezcia had named him Maegor.

"... I thought all Riverlands practised the faith of the Seven," questioned Lucrezcia.

"The Blackwoods are an ancient house descended of the First Men. Family traditions state they ruled most of the wolfswood in the north before being driven south by the Kings of Winter from House Stark" replied Alyssane "Then Blackwood river kings claimed the mouth of the Blackwater Rush".

Everything she learned fascinated her.

She felt like a little girl, eager for knowledge, full of curiosity. The many septas she had had throughout her life had not focused on teaching her history. The basics, the Age of Heroes, Aegon's conquest, Maegor's wars of faith, Jahaerys's reign.

They never delved into other houses, let alone other kingdoms, or maybe they did, but Lucrezcia was more interested in ignoring them.

"My father says that the First Men were barbarians and do not accept true religion while worshipping false gods".

"That's rich coming from an Andal" said Aly.

"My mother was an Ironborn, actually" Lucrezcia said.

Alyssane listened carefully. It is true that the absence of a mother or lady of the house was noticeable. It was the father who chose the suitor, but it was the mother who instructed the daughters in the way of marriage. And the lack of maternal presence was very clear in Lucrezcia's attitude. Her manner and demeanour, Alyssane wondered if she had mastered a weapon of some kind, as she had with the bow.

"You don't talk about her much," Aly mentioned.

Lucrezcia seemed to tense up, as if she had spoken too much. Just because she thought a lot about her mother did not mean she wanted to talk about her. No one at home did. Her father seemed to have forgotten all trace of her. Livia was already married when she left, Patricia had barely stopped feeding at her mother's breast.

Olga could barely stand Lucrezcia, so she wasn't much of a support.

"She... she's gone" she murmured "Not that she was a very loving person, anyway...".

Alyssane didn't want to stretch the conversation any further, seeing the change in the young woman's attitude.

"She taught me how to ride though," Lucrezcia blurted out to the riverwoman's surprise. "She gave me the first puppy, it was a breed from the crown lands. We trained him together... his name is Vinn, after the vineyards".

"What a ridiculous name," laughed Black Aly.

Lucrezcia nudged her horse.

"I was eight! I thought it was original!"

They both laughed and Alyssane decided it was a good time to put her plan into action.

"You know, my nephew enjoys hunting too, though no more than his sword, damn him."

"You have a nephew?"

Bingo.

"Benjicot Blackwood, heir to Raventree Hall".

"Benjicot? Now that is a ridiculous name".

Now it was Aly who nudge her horse. A little bit stronger.

"I jest! I jest..." laughed Lucrezcia. A spike of curiosity tingled down her spine. "And what is he like?".

"He's just turned six and ten, he's as tall as the weirwood tree, the damn kid, and very strong. He's been in a few little battles, against bloody Brackens, at least," mentioned Aly "But between you and me, he's a nice kid, pretty shy to tell you the truth."

Blackwood could feel the curiosity shooting out of Lucrezcia's eyes.

"I could introduce you to him."

Lucrezcia shook her head, drawing out the little birds.

"And why would you do that?"

They had arrived at the Hightower stables in Oldtown. Alyssane unsaddled her horse and handed it to a groom, while Lucrezcia still watched her from the height Maegor provided.

"Take it as a favour, he's young and you may have more in common with him than with Daryl Florent".

Alyssane winked goodbye and left the young woman speechless. She watched her walk away towards the High Tower gates.

Lucrezcia's mind was soon racing.

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Ben's bloody nose was playing tricks on him. They still had no maester and had to make do with the healing wiles of Bessie, the cook and housekeeper.

The hall was tense with silence. Lord Samwell stood at the head of the table, while Ben sat at the other end, with Jon and Corvin on either side of him.

With the pain in his head from the blow, he struggled to distinguish his friends. Bess had given him a cloth with very cold water to bring down the swelling in his nose, the water dripping from which mixed with the blood in his nose. He felt iron in his mouth, and could not help the urge to spit.

Father was lecturing him, as well as his friends, who crestfallenly responded with "yes, my lord" and "sorry, my lord". All this while Ben tried to focus his eyes on his father.

"Tavern brawls, this is where it's come to" the man said "I didn't raise a drunken brawler, I raised a future lord, a warrior!" he slammed his hand on the table, startling Ben "You have responsibilities, and you don't fulfil them by getting into trouble.

"They were Brackens," Ben replied.

Samwell fell silent. His wrinkled eyes narrowed in his son's direction. The feud with the Brackens was centuries old, many barely remember the beginning of it. Each day of the other's life was a threat to the other. Grover Tully, Lord of Riverrun, their overlord, was old and his attempts at peace between the houses were faltering.

Any excuse was a good one for bloodshed.

And as things were going in the capital, war was coming.

And ravens and stallions would not fight for the same side.

Samwell was aware of this. But he knew he had time to prepare himself and his house for a war until the dragons decided to dance. And if he could keep the peace with Stone Hedge until then, so be it. For his son's life was worth more than any battle.

He was not so sure that son was aware of that.

"The winds change fast, my son. Someday you will realise that it pays more to protect your own than to fight with the enemy," said the Lord of Raventree. "We need a strong and secure future".

Corvin and Jon shared a look of intrigue at the direction of the conversation. Benjicot looked straight at his father.

"And you, my son, you shall settle down". Samwell pulled two parchments from his sleeve, one with a crimson seal, his own, and another with a purple seal that Ben did not recognise.

"Lads" the lord pointed to the two boys guarding his son. It was their cue to leave the father and son.

Both boys looked at each other and then saluted their master, to walk out the doors of the great hall.

Once alone, Ben pulled the wet cloth away from his face to listen to his father.

"Your aunt, Alyssane, has agreed with Lord Luther Redwyne on a very interesting proposition," he said. He stretched out the parchment of the unknown seal.

"Lord Luther Redwyne, Lord of the Arbor. One of the richest men in Westeros, offers the hand of his daughter, Lucrezcia Redwyne, with a dowry of six thousand gold dragons, two hundred of his men and a prolific trade agreement with the Isle of the Arbor" read Samwell.

"The hand... of his daughter" Ben repeated.

Ben's mind was faster than a dragon. His daughter's hand in marriage, he read the letter. Marriage. He was getting married. To a complete stranger. From another realm. Another faith. An unknown woman.

"Believe me, my boy" said the lord "This is a new beginning, for you and for..."

" They offer us men, for what purpose?" interrupted Ben.

"Gold and men bring security to a family," Samwell reminded him.

"Security against what? What's coming?".

Samwell put a hand on his son's shoulder, still seated.

"I want to see you happy, son. And I want grandchildren for my house that you won't beget in taverns."

"You think a woman will make me happy?"

"A wife ? Yes".

He patted his son on the back twice, before heading for the door of the great hall.

"You'll thank me one day".

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"I have made a decision".

Lucrezcia had entered without warning the temporary office that Lord Ormund had offered her father during his stay in Oldtown.

Luther was going over the trade accounts from the last full moon. He looked up from the numbers to find his third daughter. Lucrezcia looked dishevelled, in her silk dressing gown and Lys nightdress. Her dirty blonde hair was tangled in what had once been a braid.

"And what decision would that be?"

Lucrezcia held her head high. Late at night, the only thing illuminating the dingy office were the candles. The light from the High Tower kept her awake. Alyssane had not visited her since their talk in the gardens, busy with her initial task of finding a maester for her household.

She had reconsidered all her options. Men of the Reach, of the Westerlands, but what appealed to her most, Alyssane's proposal.

A man from the Riverlands, who had no respect for the faith of the Seven.

Would that anger her father enough?

"I will marry Benjicot Blackwood"

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tag list: @erysione @asteria33 @shifter-101 @drwho-ess @hotdxdragon @username199945 @nixtape-foryou @saturnssrings

[bamsywrites]

And Comes Dawn pt 14

Pairing: Sauron/Halbrand x reader

Summary: Two drabbles from the ship ride back to Middle Earth from Numenor.

Tags: spiders, talk of killing spiders, fluff

Notes: kinda shit. Kinda not edited. Life is just kicking my ass and I wanna write but can't do much so I'm sorry this is short/not the quality you're used to. This takes place on the ship to Middle Earth with the Numenorian army.

“Halbrand,” You shook him. He was sleeping deeply, it seemed, as he wasn't roused by your whispers. His arms crossed over his chest, and his hair fell into his face. He looked peaceful. But he was needed for more important purposes.

You shook him again, whispering his name with an urgency that he did not respond to. Finally, you climbed into his lap, holding his face in your hands and squeezing his cheeks together. “Halbrand! Wake up.”

He groaned. Finally, His hands moved to hold your hips. “You sure know how to wake a man.” His eyes still closed, but his lips twitched in a smirk.

“There's a spider.”

“Hmm?”

“A spider. I saw one.”

He chuckled, sitting up straighter and opening his eyes. “Yes, there's spiders. Probably a few rats. This is a ship, you know?”

He pushed some hair out of your face, his knuckles brushing against the skin of your cheek. He sighed as he noticed the expression on your face, “You really are concerned about this spider, aren't you?”

“It's so big, Halbrand.” you whispered, looking into his eyes.

He chuckled softly, a small smirk tugging at his features, but instead of any untoward comment, he pressed his lips to your forehead before resting his forehead against yours. “Tell me where this awful beast is.”

~

“I told you it was big.”

You looked at the spider, its web spread across the corner of the room, and its massive body sat at the center. Its body alone was as big as both your hands. Hands that were grasping onto Halbrands.

“I've seen bigger.”

“You have not.”

“I have so.”

“I do not believe you.”

“You do not have to believe me for it to be true,” he looked down at you with a smirk. He unsheathed his dagger, held it in his hand, and was about to strike before you cried out.

“What are you doing?” You pull him back and look at him as if he's grown another head.

Halbrand blinks a few times, mouth agape. “Killing the spider? Like you wanted?”

“I don't want you to kill it!”

“Should I befriend it?”

“No! Just…release it, perhaps.”

“Into the ocean?!”

“Halbrand, you are being ridiculous!”

He furrowed his eyebrows, watching you for a few moments. “Where else would I release it too? Perhaps if I throw it high enough in the air it will fly away.”

“Now you're just being cruel.”

“Well to be fair, you've put me in quite an impossible predicament.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, looking at the spider, and a sense of disgust overcame you. “It is horrible, and I hate to look at it. It frightens me.”

He cups your face and guides you to look at him, “And the dagger is still an option.”

“But those aren't reasons for it to be dead.”

“It is a massive fucking beast.” Halbrand looked up at it and shook his head.

“But you've seen bigger.”

“I have seen bigger.”

You sigh, “I can not sleep if I know it exists on the ship, but I do not wish it harm.”

He sighs, shaking his head, “You are going to be the death of me, sweet one.” He mumbles and kisses the top of your head.

“Go back to my cot. I will put the thing in a barrel and move it to the depths of the ship. Best I can do."

You sighed, “Fine.”

~

“Of course I would find you here.” You felt strong arms wrapped around your waist, and you were surrounded by Halbrands scent. He rested his chin on your shoulder and followed your gaze towards the stars. You relaxed back into him but didn't say a word.

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, humming a song softly and swaying with you. It was calming, and you enjoyed it, your eyes falling shut. You felt safe in his arms, as you always did. As you always would.

“What was that song?”

“A song of the most beautiful of elves falling in love with a man. I heard it from one of the elves in my village and I think of it often when I'm with you.”

“Do you speak of Beren and Luthien? I've never heard the song, but my father told me the story.”

You could feel the surprise at your confession and hear it in his voice when he spoke, “It is them, but now you have me curious why your father would tell those stories.”

“I was scared. He would talk of the coming of Sauron and what it would bring and I cried because I would miss the beauty in the world. He told me that Sauron admired beauty too and that he had admired Luthien, the most beautiful of the elves.”

“It was only because he had never seen you.”

“Must you always jest.”

“This is no jest. You are so much more beautiful than anything out there. Luthien herself could never compare."

You laughed softly, shaking your head, "Have you noticed in those stories it is always the mortal men. Never mortal women. Handsome elves or powerful gods do not fall for mortal women. We aren't often even mentioned. We simply sharpen swords and wash clothes and have babies, but there is no great epic love story with a mortal woman.”

You looked up at him for a second before pressing your lips to his softly. “I love you.”

He turned you around in his arms, his eyebrows furrowed, “Where is this insecurity coming from?”

“Women such as I are not written about in song or made into stories. We simply are until we are not.”

His hands cupped your cheeks, pressing his forehead to yours. “You simply are so much more than you know. I may not be a handsome elf or powerful god, but I am yours. Always. And I wish you'd stop talking of yourself as if you are anything less than extraordinary.”

[throneofsmut]

Kinktober Day Twenty-Four : Hunter / Prey Azriel x Female Reader Author's Note: This is heavily Zade Meadows coded 🙂

Rhys was briefing Azriel on his cousin - you - from the Autumn Court.

Your mother and Rhys’ Father were half siblings, Rhys has vague memories of playing with you when you were both children. He hadn’t seen you in centuries though, all he heard were whispers of you being Eris’ personal spymaster. Others that you were just his little play thing.

Part of that was true, you were Eris’s spymaster but you weren’t his play thing. You’re his best friend and he is yours. So when he found out his father was planning a betrothal between his wretched brother and you, he sent you away.

You’d left Autumn and been in Velaris for a couple weeks now, you had gotten word to Rhys that you were back “home” and looking for employment. He knew he could trust you. Just because he hadn’t seen you didn’t mean he hadn’t heard from you throughout the centuries.

Rhys knew about the bargain between Eris and you. Still that didn’t stop you from sending word to him when you felt that certain information was vital to him and to the Night Court. He also knew you were a “good” spymaster and that was putting it lightly and if you wanted employment, employ you, he would. He just needs to know how good you are.

Which is why he was briefing his brother and tasking him with finding out where you are in Velaris.

“When you find her, bring her to the House of Wind. I have a couple of questions for her.”

Azriel stood up and walked out on the balcony, about to take off.

“She’s not gonna make it easy for you, brother.” Rhys added.

Azriel turned his head to the side, “I’m counting on it.”

You made your way through the winding streets of the city of starlight, the darkness of night keeping you hidden from the spies Beron sent after you. The ones that did manage to find you were easy to lose. Some of them put up more of a fight but not much.

For some reason tonight felt different, the shadows felt as if they were alive, watching you. But you couldn’t focus on that because four of Beron’s spies were trailing you. They thought you were oblivious to their presence, but you had clocked them as soon as you left your apartment.

Making your way through the streets and little alleys that you knew like the back your hand, you kept a calm pace, waiting for the right place to strike. Yet your mind kept drifting back to shadows that watched you.

Finally making it to the edge of the city, you made your way towards a dead end. Beron’s spies weren’t far behind. Their footsteps were loud as they bounded down the cobblestone alleyways. Unsheathing the two daggers from behind your back you got into a fighting stance.

“Just come back with us Y/n and no one has to get hurt.” One of them spoke as they stood in front of you. They were trying to appear friendly but you took in the way their bodies were taut, preparing for a fight.”

“Come on, boys. You know that’s not gonna happen.” You voiced, lips curving up into a smirk.

“We don’t want to hurt you.” They replied, hands held up as they stepped closer.

“Don’t worry, you won’t.”

Those were the last words they heard before you unleashed yourself on them. They seemed like good males, only trying to complete their task so they wouldn’t have to deal with Beron’s wrath. So you did them a favor and gave them all a swift death.

You winnowed all four of their bodies to the edge of the Forest House, still using the night sky as cover before making your way back to your apartment.

Making your way into your room, settling into bed, the shadows on the balcony of your room caught your eye. But you were too tired from your eventful night and you drifted asleep.

Azriel Pov:

Seeing her in the flesh was completely different from what Rhys showed me in his memories. She was the most beautiful female I’ve ever seen, her body honed into a lithe toned weapon after centuries of training. And still she looks so soft, with sinful curves.

Finding her was easy. It was almost like she wanted to be found and I realized she did when there were four of Beron’s spies trailing her.

I stuck to the shadows, watching and assessing. I was going to jump in and help her when walked into a dead end but decided to let it play out, unless she needed help.

But, then she cut down four men like it was nothing, like they were nothing.

So when she winnowed their bodies to the Forest House, I followed. Watching as she displayed them for their High Lord to find. Staying a little while longer after she left, cutting down four more new spies that Beron had sent after her.

I’d gladly cut down anyone Beron sends after her, because I’m obsessed. I'm addicted. And I will gladly cross every single line if it means making this female mine. If it means forcing her to be mine.

No matter. She won’t be able to escape me now. I’ve just found myself a little mouse, and I won’t stop until I’ve trapped her.

Then I made sure she made it back to her apartment, waiting for her to fall asleep before reporting to Rhys what happened.

“She cut down four men ?” Rhys and Cassian questioned together, mouths agape.

Without even thinking my lips were curving into a smirk and I felt my face heat. “Yes.”

Rhys and Cassian looked at each other then back at me.

Cassian arched a thick brow, “Do you like her, brother ?”

I didn’t respond but I guess my silence was enough for Cassian because now he was howling with laughter.

“I know why she’s being hunted by Beron.” Rhys spoke hesitantly.

I couldn’t stop the words from leaving my lips. “Why ?”

“She’s betrothed to one of his sons, which one, I don’t know.”

There’s not an ounce of me that gives a fuck, she’s mine.

“Who told you ?” Cassian chimed in, arms crossed.

“Eris. He also told me that tomorrow when she goes out for her morning run in the forest, Beron plans to trap her at any cost. He’s sending his best spies and other spies from the continent. They should be moving into position now as we speak.”

I stood up without another word. Siphons blazing bright.

“Az where are you going ?”

“To the forest.” And with that I was gone using my shadows to winnow into the forest. It took me all of ten minutes to cut down the spies in the forest. My body moving on its own, as a lethal rage took over, at the thought of my little mouse being taken from me.

Reader Pov :

There was that feeling again as you made your way deeper in the forest, for your morning running.

Your senses were telling you there was someone there but you couldn’t see anything. Until you heard him, his voice, promising danger but it turned you on nonetheless.

“Run,” he growls, “if I catch you, I fuck you.”

Your heartbeat quickened at his words and just like that you took off. Running through the trees of the forest laughing wildly. You hear him getting closer but your body betrays you as soon as you scent him, his arousal. You know your scent shifted too because of the half growl, half grunt he lets out.

You turn around facing him, breathless as you take in the sight of him. The most beautiful male you’ve ever seen. A wicked smirk is on your lips as you size him up. You just know it’s big.

You're smaller than him so it makes it easier for you to out run him, circling around him before you take off again. But this time you don’t make it more than a hundred feet before you wrapped up in his arms and he winnows the both of you back to your apartment.

Before you can even ask how he knows where you live, his body is pressing into you as he cages you against the wall of your living room. Lips sucking your neck harshly, his teeth nipping at the soft skin there. Before soothing the skin with his tongue. Then he moves one of his scarred hands down the front of your pants, rubbing tight circles over your swollen clit.

“Oh fuck!” You cry out in pleasure, grinding your ass on his clothed cock, feeling just how big he is and how hard.

Then you’re enveloped in darkness - shadows you realize - then you're being laid face down on the edge of your bed.

“Azriel.” It comes out as a statement, more than a question.

He chuckles darkly, “It’s me, little mouse.”

The cold air hits your exposed cunt, as he pulls down your pants. Then you feel the head of his cock rub through your wet folds. Rubbing against your sensitive clit.

Azriel pushes all the way into you in one thrust, his cock is buried inside of you as you cry out fisting the sheets. “Oh gods.”

He groans as he lets you adjust to his size, grabbing your ass roughly, then slapping it.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good, wrapped around my cock.”

“Please, Az.” You whimper beneath him. Completely at his mercy.

He withdraws. Then slams his hips into you again, his balls slapping against your cunt. You meet each one of his thrust, your ass smacking against his sharp hip bones. Moving one of your hands to circle your clit you cry out in pleasure. “F-fuck!”

You’re already going to cum. The way he’s fucking you like a wild animal in the most delicious way, hitting that sweet spot that has you seeing stars is enough to send you over the edge. And just like that you’re coming.

His pace unfaltering as he continues rutting into you, You’re a shaking, babbling, incoherent mess beneath him as he fucks you through your orgasm. His shadows, moving your hand to circle your clit instead.

Still panting, “Az it’s too much, please.” He lands a harsh smack to your ass before gripping your hips roughly, “Your body was fucking made for me. So you’re gonna be a good girl,” he growls, “and fucking take it.” Suddenly you're coming again, even harder this time, your body feels like it’s on fire.

But you can’t get enough of it, of him.

“Fuck I need-“ Then he’s turning you around, to face him, desperately, “Need to see you.” He panted, resting his forehead on yours. His eyes are piercing yours as he fucks your faster and hard, ramming himself into you. Your nails claw at his back, mindful of his large wings.

And then, you’re falling over the edge again for the third time tonight. You feel Azriel cum right after you, as he bites you where your shoulder meets your neck. The both of you pant softly trying to come down from your highs when he utters, “I’m going to keep you, little mouse. You’re mine.” Possessiveness lacing his tone.

“Only if you’re mine.”

He chuckles darkly. Pupils flaring before wrapping a scarred hand around your neck, placing a possessive kiss on your lips.

Once he pulls back he tells, “By the way, your cousin wants to talk to you.” You laugh, rolling your eyes at his words.

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

[goddessofmischief]

I see you are taking requests for the one piece bois so I thought I’d throw an idea your way!

(Oh my god I’m so sorry this is so long!)

F!Reader X Mihawk where y/n is fairly new to the straw hat crew. There’s a huge battle between pirates and marines, the battle field is brutal. Mihawk is there fighting the Marines when he sees the straw hats do a group attack together. Y/n was launched by Luffy and Sanji straight into the middle of the battle field with her sword and daggers. Mihawk takes notice of y/n being launched into the battle thinking she was gonna get taken down quite easily. He doesn’t recognize who she is so obviously not strong enough to know who he was.

Little to Mihawks knowledge, she spent her entire life being trained to be an assassin against her will. Once she escaped and joined the straw hats she started training with Zoro and she improved so much. She starts to love the thrill of the fights so she ends up training even harder and goddamn is it noticeable.

As y/n is falling towards the marines she unsheathes her dark black sword covered in haki and lets out a huge attack that split the ground a few miles apart. The straw hats join y/n after she lands in the open field she just mowed down. Mihawk is baffled by how fluid she is with her attacks, not missing a single mark and meshing with her crew so well.

Y/N then gets launched AGAIN by a new admiral through the air straight at Mihawk. He notices and breaks her fall, not wanting her to hit the ground for some reason. That’s how they introduce themselves and they end up fighting the new admiral together.

They end up battling perfect together, perfectly synchronizing their attacks and blocks. Mihawk thinks he might have found his person.

That’s kind of all I got so far, sorry for it being so long! I hope it makes sense and if you do choose to write this I hope you have fun with it as well!!

I love long asks, it makes the fic so much easier to write! (requests still open for mihawk & shanks)

Warrior | Dracule Mihawk x Reader

Well, this was certainly an interesting way to start a new job.

You'd been with the Straw Hat crew for nearly a month now. As an old friend of Zoro's, nearly equally skilled with the blade, you had proven yourself to be a valuable asset. The longer you knew them, the more you began to feel as if the Going Merry could be your home.

That's when the Marines showed up.

They were after Zoro - of course - and someone else, too, someone you couldn't quite place. Zoro seemed to recognize the name, cower at it, even, but it wasn't familiar to you.

Mihawk. Dracule Mihawk.

So here you were... hopelessly outnumbered, or so it would seem. Hundreds of Marines, and in opposition only you and the Straw Hats, plus a few other pirate crews.

You held your breath as you glanced back at Luffy and Sanji, giving them a nod.

"Are you sure?" Sanji asks, obviously reluctant. You smiled.

"Just do it."

Luffy used his rubber arms to propel you back like a slingshot, straight into the middle of the battlefield, daggers drawn.

You landed on your knees, slightly scuffed, and pointed one of your daggers in the air.

"Charge!"

Across the field, a warlord of the seas had begun to notice the other warrior. Nothing much escaped his notice - not the weather, not the weight of his weapons in his hands, not the bodies littering the field.

You were far more subtle, but no less obvious. You moved through the battlefield like liquid, like water, your blades dancing through opponent after opponent until few remained. Then, when it seemed that your smaller blades would no longer suffice, you removed a much larger sword from a sheath on your back - a black sword, covered in haki. The weight of it, sinking into the earth, split the ground and forced both Marines and pirates apart.

He didn't know you, but he felt he knew something about you. Something about how you must have suffered to have gained such skill.

You had. You had been trained to become an assassin from a young age, after all, and it was nearly all you knew. Zoro saved you, trained with you. One day, he left to turn in a bounty at a Marine base and seemed to have vanished forever. A year later, he returned to bring you with him.

Your crew had assembled around you, he noted - you seemed especially close to a man in a suit, another man with green hair - Zoro, Mihawk recognized, Roronoa Zoro.

Well, of course he liked you, of course he appreciated your skill. Zoro would not waste his time nor protection on someone undeserving.

But your crew had been distracted by other assailants, it seemed, and you stood alone. A newer Marine admiral, someone Mihawk recognized as a person he'd rather not mess with, engaged you directly in combat. Your sword hit his shoulder, but did nothing. He was too strong, and you were overpowered.

The force of the sword's vibration threw you back several feet, and Mihawk realized with a start that you were about to land beside him.

It seemed too cruel to let you die, he reasoned. Not merely cruel - senseless. If you died, who could measure the loss of the things you might've done, the lives you may have saved? Someone like you, someone with potential - someone like that deserved to be saved, someone like that deserved to live.

With a considerable sigh, he held out his arms, and you fell neatly into them.

You looked around, wide-eyed, confused as to where you were and how you'd gotten there. Instinctively, you put your arms around the place where you'd landed, hanging on for dear life.

Mihawk cleared his throat. You blinked at him, still struggling to understand what had happened.

"I caught you."

You nodded, still in a state of shock.

"...Who are you?"

"Dracule Mihawk," he said, drawing out every syllable. He sounded annoyed, but he wasn't, not really. He was amused, but more than that, he was curious. Curious about you, a strange little human with a powerful sword and seemingly no Devil Fruit powers to speak of. He wanted to stay with you, to help you.

...You didn't need help, obviously, but if you ever did, he would gladly provide it.

Mihawk set you down, legs trembling. You reached for your sword again.

"I'm trying to kill him," you said grimly, gesturing at the Marine admiral. "Help me?"

Mihawk pulled Yoru out.

"Obviously."

...

comments and feedback appreciated!

[whitehairandblood]

CW: blade (just the one), threatening language, begging, hunter/hunted dynamic, animal attack, graphic description of mauling, blood

(Let me know if I missed anything)

"Please... you don't want to do this!"

The vampire's pleas fell on deaf ears as the hunter advanced on their fallen form. They had cornered the vampire in a vast, empty warehouse, away from prying eyes or ears which could hear the vampire's useless pleas for mercy.

The vampire crawled backwards, one hand pressed tightly to the burning wound in their side. A silver tipped arrow, lodged firmly between their ribs, made every breath more painful than the last.

The hunter dropped their crossbow to the floor, unsheathing a blade which glinted in the light of the full moon streaming in through the high windows. Silver. Plated, not cast, but capable of just as much damage. The vampire's eyes fell from the hunter's face, widening in recognition.

"W-wait, wait!" They begged, growing desperate. "You don't know what you're doing. You're going to regret this!"

The hunter scoffed. Vampires and their silver tongues.

"No, I don't think I will." They replied coolly, darkly, stepping closer. The vampire held up their other hand in a pathetic attempt at shielding their face, but the hunter easily bypassed it, grabbing them by the collar of their shirt to haul them up from the ground.

The vampire cried out in pain as the arrow in their side was jostled. Dark blood bubbled out between their fingers to stain their clothes even further. Their feet struggled to find purchase for only a moment, before the hunter's weight pressed them into the brick wall behind them.

Their breath stuttered at the feeling of the silver dagger grazing their throat. It left a line of burning agony as the hunter angled it carefully- sharp point hovering at their adam's apple, ready to pierce.

"I was expecting something more," the hunter mused, "from someone as notorious as you."

The vampire's panic filled eyes focused on the hunter's face. Their pupils had dilated to let in the low light, allowing them to take in every detail of the hunter's face in perfect detail. From the hunter's point of view, it made their eyes look dark and soulless- like a shark that smelled blood in the water.

"They tell horror stories about you, you know." The hunter continued, "Those other hunters. No one has ever come back from hunting you."

The vampire shuddered as the silver blade danced across their throat.

"Why is that?" The hunter asked idly, "What makes a sniweling, cowardly little thing like you so hard to kill? You ran the moment you saw me. You cornered yourself like a moron, and even now you refuse to fight back. Why is that, hm?"

The vampire's hands raised shakily, grasping at the hunter's sleeves. Silver burned into the skin of their throat, making their eyes well with tears and the acrid stench of burning flesh invade their nose.

"Please... you don't have to do this. You can still walk away."

The hunter laughed- laughed, like it was the funniest thing they'd heard, before twisting the fabric of the vampire's shirt and driving their fist further into the vampire's ribcage. The vampire groaned as the air was squeezed from their lungs.

The hunter's grip tightened on their blade, applying careful pressure until the vampire bled and groaned in pain.

"Asnwer the question."

The vampire's squeezed shut eyes cracked open again, focusing back on the hunter's face. They grit their teeth and snarled, refusing to give the hunter the satisfaction of the answer they were looking for. The hunter sneered right back, pressing on the vampire's sternum hard enough to make the edges of the vampire's vision go dark.

"Suit yourself." The hunter growled, dagger poised for the kill. "Any last words?"

Something in the vampire's expression shifted, so sudden and so unexpected that it took a moment for the hunter to process the change.

The fear had been replaced by a haunting, eerie calmness, the hint of a smile evident in the curling of the vampire's lips. They stared at the hunter with those dark, cold eyes, so devoid of any emotion that it was hard to believe there had ever been any present. Once again, the image of a shark leapt to the hunter's mind- one which had slowly begun to circle its prey.

The hunter's breath caught, their grip loosening.

The vampire's smile only widened, eyes flicking to the hunter's right for only a moment before returning to the hunter's own.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

Their only true warning was the sound of shattering glass and a snarling, low growl, before they were bowled over by something solid slamming into them at full force.

The hunter collided shoulder first with the rough concrete, skidding several feet across the ground before coming to a stop. Dazed from the impact and entirely caught off guard, it took one moment too long for the hunter to gather themself and scramble to their feet.

They didn't even make it off the ground before claws dug into their shoulders, pinning them to the ground as whatever had attacked them perched its entire weight atop them. The hunter cried out, hands scrambling to grab onto their assailant's wrists. They were met with coarse, dense fur, the skin underneath burning hot to the touch.

The hunter's mind reeled as they forced themself to look up. The werewolf on top of them snarled, teeth glinting mere inches from the hunter's face. Its breath fanned across their face, hot and stifling, its growl reverberating inside the hunter's own ribcage with its intensity. A pair of glinting eyes stared them down, filled with frightening intelligence and unfathomable rage.

The hunter didn't get the chance to react as those teeth flashed before their eyes, burying themselves in the soft flesh between their neck and shoulder. The hunter wailed, red hot agony lancing across their entire body as the werewolf only tightened its grip and began to shake them around violently. Its claws had dislodged themselves from the hunter's body, allowing it to drag them bodily across the ground like they weighed nothing at all, smearing blood and saliva on the grey concrete.

The hunter screamed as the muscles in their shoulder tore apart and their shoulder dislocated, clawing at the werewolf's face in a desperate attempt to make it let go. The werewolf only dragged them under itself again, letting go for only a moment before biting down again, claws raking across the hunter's body.

The hunter's screams filled the empty warehouse until the echoes became indisinguishable from the sound itself.

And then, suddenly, it all stopped.

The werewolf finally let go just as the hunter though it might tear their arm off completely, its weight disappearing just as suddenly as it had pinned them.

The hunter lay there in agony, ragged sobs and shallow breaths making their head swim. There was a constant, high pitched ringing in their ears, evident in the sudden absence of the werewolf's snarling growls.

And then that ringing stopped as well, tapering off into a... a wolf whistle, coming from the direction of the vampire, right where the hunter had left them.

The hunter forced themself to turn their head, watching with terrified eyes as the vampire stood up from where they had been dropped. Once they were steady on their feet, they turned to look at the hunter's fallen form, expression filled with grim satisfaction.

Nothing remained of the scared, defenseless prey animal that had lured the hunter in so easily. It was like they were looking at a whole different person.

The werewolf hovered near them, eyes fixated on the hunter. Blood matted in the fur of its canine muzzle, and it held the hunter's gaze as it slowly and deliberately licked its lips clean.

The vampire took a moment to yank the arrow from between their ribs- and that was that. They massaged the spot as if it was nothing more than a pulled muscle, holding the arrow out casually for the werewolf to sniff. The werewolf did, pulling a face like it was disgusted.

Then it spoke.

"They thought they could bring you down with only one arrow?"

The vampire chuckled, running a hand along the top of the werewolf's head. "And a dagger. Let's be fair now."

The werewolf rolled its eyes, and it was all the hunter could do to not lose their mind then and there.

"Really, love," the vampire cooed, cradling the werewolf's enormous face in both hands, "you can stop with the theatrics now. My brave guard dog, coming to my rescue."

The werewolf's tongue darted out to lick at the vampire's nose, lips curling into a canine smile. "Did you see the look on their face? Oh, it was priceless." Then, after a moment of consideration, "I really like this one."

The vampire's fond expression turned sour and it was their turn to roll their eyes. "Oh, please. They're a dime a dozen. Except this one might be even more irritating than the rest."

The hunter flinched when the vampire's gaze settled on them, eyes raking over their mangled body without the barest hint of empathy. Like they were a bug, about to be squashed under the vampire's heel.

The werewolf followed their gaze, and the hunter could feel panic beginning to claw its way up their throat as their eyes were forced to meet. The burning agony of their torn arm and shoulder flared to life again, demanding their attention. They were losing blood, too much blood. They would not survive another attack.

But the werewolf didn't move to attack. Instead, its body began to shift and change.

Its previously quadruped stance turned into a bipedal one as it stood up on its hind legs, height rapidly diminishing until it stood tall about a foot above the vampire. Its fur seemed to recede into its body, canine features smoothing into something more human-like, claws and teeth and wagging tail disappearing in a matter of seconds.

It was nothing like what the hunter had been expecting. All those tales of painful, grueling transformations, of snapping bones and tearing muscles and agonized howls mistaken to be those of wolves' - had they all been lies? For what purpose?

By the end, the werewolf hardly looked anything other than human. It- they? Stood tall for a human, and their eyes retained their unnatural luminosity, but other than that, there was no way to tell what they might have once been.

All except for one, tiny detail; their face remained covered in the hunter's drying blood.

From nose to chin and down their neck, the darkening blood served as a stark reminder of just what the hunter was dealing with here.

"There you are, love." The vampire said, placing a hand on the werewolf's cheek, which the latter leaned into gratefully.

"I really, really do like this one." The werewolf murmured, both hands coming up to hold onto and brush against the vampire's wrist. Their eyes softened, looking pleadingly at the vampire from under their eyelashes- a commendable feat, considering it was the vampire who had to look up in order for their eyes to meet.

The hunter averted their eyes. It felt... wrong for them to witness the scene, even under the circumstances. They felt, absurdly, like they were intruding on something private.

The vampire sighed wearily, but whatever internal struggle they had to put up lasted for only a moment. "I never could say no to you."

The hunter's stomach dropped at the words. They should have felt relieved- it meant they wouldn't be killed, right? But if *this* is what the werewolf did to the things they liked... the hunter didn't dare to think of the alternative.

They jumped at the sound of approaching footsteps- one pair loud and purposeful, and the other near silent. Bare feet shuffling along the concrete.

The hunter turned their head again, withering glare locked and loaded. The vampire caught their gaze first, neutral expression shifting into a dark, entirely self-satisfied smirk.

"I told you you would regret coming after me."

[icarusignite]

An Eye for an Eye Ch.5

MASTERLIST / ao3 / wattpad

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC

"An eye for an eye. A brother for a brother."

Summary: In return for his terrible crime, the kinslayer's wife gives him an equally terrible gift. A gift with a vow; an eye for an eye, a brother for a brother, a debt to be repaid in full with blood.

Word Count: 4.9k

The room was still cloaked in the deep embrace of midnight, the silence broken only by the occasional whisper of a breeze outside, when Daenys stirred in her sleep, a low rasp escaping her parched lips as she slowly emerged from the clutches of a restless dream she could not recall. The air in the chamber felt thick, suffused with an unspoken tension that seemed to mirror the turmoil within her.

As her heavy eyelids fluttered open, she winced at the stabbing pain in her temples, a relentless throbbing that pulsed in rhythm with the beating of her heart. The room swayed gently around her, and she felt a strange stickiness on her cheeks as she blinked away the remnants of tears that had painted trails down her face. Her vision was blurred, as if the world had decided to don a hazy veil, and it took her a few moments to gather her bearings. 

Then the sensation of a weight across her waist caught her attention, and when she turned her gaze downward to the source, there he lay, Aemond Targaryen, clinging to her as if she were a lifeline. His eyepatch had been carelessly discarded, revealing the vulnerability of the one who usually bore the mantle of strength. Moonlight spilled through the jagged maw of the window, casting an ethereal glow upon his tousled hair and smooth features, and even in slumber, his face was etched with lines of worry, a reflection of the troubles that plagued him past his waking hours.

His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm and Daenys resisted the urge to trace the soft glow that highlighted the shadows beneath his eyes. The arm that wasn't wrapped protectively around her waist rested gently on her neck, his fingers entwining with the tendrils of her hair, while his head nestled into the crook of her throat, finding comfort in the curve of her shoulder.

It made Daenys feel sick. His touch burned in a way that made her want to peel off her skin and leave it out to shrivel and crackle in the sun until she was a version of herself he had never laid hands on. 

Determined not to disturb her husband's peaceful slumber, she began the delicate task of extricating herself from his hold. With the utmost care, she shifted her body ever so slightly, attempting to loosen the grip of his arms. However, as she maneuvered, Aemond unconsciously tightened his hold, responding with a reflexive sigh that hinted at the reluctance to release his grasp on her.

For a moment, Daenys paused, her heart pounding with trepidation. The moonlight continued to weave its silver tapestry around them, the room shrouded in the stillness of the night. She took a deep breath, determined to continue her discreet escape.

Undeterred by Aemond's unconscious resistance, Daenys resumed her slow, methodical movement. She carefully peeled his arm from around her waist, feeling the tension in his muscles as he unwittingly clung to her. The sigh that escaped him seemed almost like a lament, the complaint of a man reluctant to let go of an anchor during a storm.

Step by step, she managed to slide away from him, the silk sheets whispering softly in response to her cautious retreat until she finally slipped out, her feet landing on the broken glass that littered the room. She held in the pained whine that threatened to escape her lips and surveyed her surroundings carefully. She wasn't quite sure what she was looking for until her gaze settled on the dagger strapped to Aemond's belt. The weapon seemed to beckon to her, and without thinking Daenys found herself reaching for it. 

With a deft hand, she unsheathed the dagger, its metallic rasp muffled. The cold touch of the blade sent a shiver down her spine and she held it tightly, the weight of the weapon grounding her as she considered her next move.

She wondered if this was the same dagger Aemond had offered up to her brother. The very same dagger that would have rid Luke of his eye. 

Daenys glanced back at her sleeping husband, her hands moving unconsciously again and she didn't even know she had moved until the wicked blade was below Aemond's chin. It would be so easy. One smooth movement, one whispered hush with no one but the moon as her witness and then it'd be over. She could leave him bleeding into his own sheets, in the same bed where he had whispered all the lies to her. She could be rid of him. 

Something hungry inside her begged for that crimson fountain to bubble forth and she hazarded pressing the weapon closer, its razor-sharp edge hovering just above his throat. She could almost feel the warmth of his skin beneath the cold steel, a stark contrast to the iciness that gripped her heart. The blade traced an invisible line, too close and too far apart all at once, the distance between two lovers, the distance between a promise and a lie. 

Then he said her name. 

Not in the coherent syllables of a fully conscious man, but a whispered invocation of her name as a desperate reach from the recesses of his slumber.

Daenys placed a hand over his seeing eye, and the furrow in his brow seemed to melt away at her touch. She could carry out the deed now, in the quiet of the night, and he would not even see it coming. His eyes would fly open, only to be met with an abyss of darkness, a void that would swallow both sight and consciousness.

Darkness and then nothing.

It would be a mercy. 

Then she pulled back with a sigh. He did not deserve such a mercy. He did not deserve such a painless death of confusion and darkness. No, he deserved the spectre of fear that must have haunted Luke. She refused to hand Aemond over to the Stranger so easily. She would make him beg for it when the time came. 

But now was not that time, and she could not risk awakening the entirety of the Red Keep for the sake of the sadistic desire that unfurled beneath her ribs. 

For now, she had to go home and pledge her allegiance to the one true Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. 

 Still clutching the dagger tightly, she tiptoed across the chamber, her feet seeking refuge in the spaces between scattered belongings, avoiding the treacherous shards of the shattered debris. Despite her meticulous efforts, the floor betrayed her intentions, and a faint trail of deformed carmine footsteps marked her silent journey across the room.

Her fingers wrapped around the cool metal of the door handle, and to her surprise, it yielded effortlessly beneath her touch. Turning one last time to ensure her husband's continued slumber, Daenys cast a glance over her shoulder. 

Then she scowled and stepped outside, flinching when her bruised soles made contact with the cold marble outside. 

"Princess?"

The knight from earlier stood sentinel near the doorway, an unexpected obstacle in her path. Ser Percival, if she recalled correctly, the very same man who had shown her some semblance of kindness when she had been ordered to the Queen's chambers to be a part of Aegon's cruel joke, and if she tried hard enough she could remember him asking Aemond to let her return home. She could not say how much of the latter was true though, as much of the events that followed were a blur in her memory, clouded over by her own consciousness.  

"Is everything all right, princess?" Ser Percival inquired, his voice gentle.

Daenys nodded hastily, panic tightened her chest as she let her eyes silently plead with her captor to let her continue her escape undetected. Before she could slip away, however, the knight's gauntleted hand closed firmly around her wrist.

"Forgive me, my lady, but you cannot leave. It would be against my orders, and I'd find myself in grave trouble."

Daenys, her breath caught in her throat, her eyes flickering nervously toward the open door of Aemond's chambers, praying that he remained undisturbed in his slumber. Ser Percival, following her gaze, frowned in understanding but maintained his grip on her wrist.

"Pleas—please, I must go," she implored, her voice a quiet plea laced with desperation. Her fingers, concealed around the hilt of the dagger behind her back, tightened instinctively. She wished not to resort to violence, but she would do it if pushed any further. 

The knight's gaze softened, a fleeting expression of pity in his eyes. "I understand, princess, but I cannot allow it. I am sworn to keep watch, and letting you go would betray...the king."

Daenys's eyes hardened and she wrenched her hand away from him aggressively, "I would cut your tongue out for being a traitor. Be grateful I do not have more time."

When she turned around to depart, he did not stop her a second time, only watching apologetically as he heard the young prince stir awake in his chambers behind him.

Aemond Targaryen was immediately aware of the absence of the familiar weight beside him, and panic surged through him, a cold realization that his wife was no longer in the bed where he had last seen her before drifting off to sleep. When his hand strayed to his waist where his scabbard was empty of his dagger his heart dropped. 

In an instant, he bolted upright, disoriented by the abrupt awakening. His seeing eye darted around the chamber, searching for any sign of her, hoping to see her pacing agitated form. When the truth sank in, a surge of urgency propelled him to the door, and the knight stationed outside looked up with a start as he burst through.

"Where is she?" the prince demanded, his voice edged with a mix of fear and anger. The knight's eyes widened, and he struggled to find the words to convey what had just transpired.

"The princess... she just..." 

There was a stammer in the knight's voice, and he was unable to meet Aemond's intense gaze. It was not often that the one-eyed prince walked about without his eyepatch on, and his singular gaze was strikingly unsettling, making it difficult to look at him for too long. 

"I will not ask again. Where. Is. My. Wife?" he enunciated the words slowly, as if speaking to a fool, his hands coming up to grab the trembling man in front of him by the shoulders. 

"She...she left, my prince."

"Left? Left where? What do you mean? It was your job to watch over her! Where is she?"

Ser Percival, caught between duty and the fury in Aemond's eyes, gestured vaguely in the direction opposite to where Daenys had gone. Still, the prince's sharp gaze scrutinized both sides of the hallway and, to his horror, he noticed the faint bloody footprints that marked her departure. The realization hit him like a physical blow.

"What happened to her?" Aemond growled, his fingers digging into the knight's armour. "Why is there blood? Answer me!"

Now pinned against the wall, Ser Percival struggled to maintain composure, "I don't know, my prince. She just left. I tried to stop her, but she insisted on going. I... I don't know anything about the blood."

"You tried to stop her? And you couldn't have tried harder? You, a knight of the realm, could not stop that wraith of a girl? Seven hells, and you're expected to protect my brother the king?"

If fear hadn't laid siege to his mind, Percival might have scoffed. Wraith of a girl? The princess was a little more than that. Something in her voice reminded him of another who once roamed these halls. He never thought he'd hear that voice again, the dominating tone of the Commander of the City Watch coming from the mouth of the silver-haired princess, and for a moment it was as if Percival's old mentor had returned to life, if only to scorn him for being a traitor. Perhaps that is why he had let her go in the first place, as some sort of penance. 

Aemond's eyes flared with anger, his mind racing with the possibilities of what could have transpired in his absence. Without another word, he released the knight and stormed down the corridor, following the bloody trail left by his fleeing wife. His mind threw his way an onslaught of worst-case scenarios. Was she still sick in the head from her fever? Had she thrown herself off some balcony or slit her throat? Or was the dagger meant for someone else? Would he find her standing above Aegon's bed, or worse, his mother's or Helaena's, her hands and his dagger drenched with their blood? He would not put it past her. 

He wondered what state he'd find her in. The version of her who dug craters into her arms as if they were graves, whose eyes contained a glint of mania that spoke of impossible actions. Or the version who would plead and cry and allow him to hold her once he finally reached her. 

He knew which version he preferred. He knew which one of them was easier to subdue. 

Aemond pursued Daenys's trail to a painting on the wall, and he immediately knew where she was headed, even as the footsteps ended with a faint smattering of red in the darkness. It was a path well traversed by both of them, for late-night escapades in Flea Bottom, and he quickened his step. 

Eventually, he arrived at a secluded courtyard, where in the dim light, he discerned a figure—limping, dragging one foot behind, and cloaked in the shadows.

Approaching cautiously, Aemond's heart ached at the sight of his wife. She really was a wraith of a girl here, her unbound hair a spill of starlight down her back, and her silhouette, fragile and ghostly. Before he could take another step, she whirled around, a dagger clutched in her hands, poised as a barrier between them.

"Daenys," Aemond called out, his voice gentle and laced with concern. "What are you doing out here? The hour is late and it's freezing. Let me take you back to bed."

Daenys, her eyes hollow and distant, stared at him through the dim light. The dagger remained a silent sentinel between them, the one-eyed prince watched it cautiously, not knowing who she'd use it against.

"You're hurt, Daenys. Let me help you. I'll carry you back if I have to. Just please...let us return."

She backed away, her movements cautious and guarded. The moonlight danced on the blade in her hand, casting glimmers of silver across her face. A fleeting smile crossed her lips, but her eyes remained distant, as if she were standing at the edge of a precipice. The fever that had gripped her earlier seemed to have subsided, yet an unnatural flush lingered on her skin. Aemond, sensing the fragility of her mind, extended a hand toward her.

"Daenys give me the weapon. You'll hurt yourself."

Daenys's gaze, still clouded and enigmatic, flickered between the dagger and Aemond's outstretched hand. 

"You know I wondered if you'd come after me," she finally spoke, her voice low and contemplative. "I even hoped for it."

"You wanted me to come for you? Well, you wanted me, so here I am. Let us go back then."

"No that's not why I wanted you here."

"Then...why?"  Aemond's brow furrowed, not understanding the game she played.

"I'm not entirely sure."

Daenys paused. She was leaving here tonight, that much was certain. She had made up her mind about it and there was nothing that could keep her from it. She had hoped to slip away unnoticed, but she couldn't deny the thrill that shot through her bloodstream to see her husband's cautious form trailing after her like a shadow. He was asking for it at this point. If he laid a hand on her, she would end him, but if he didn't...then well, it remained to be seen. The night hungered for bloodshed, and perhaps she'd oblige, although she hadn't yet decided who would make the sacrifice. 

She raised the dagger, her smile mirroring the sharp edge of the blade, and her husband instinctively raised his hands placatingly.

"Daenys, put the knife down," he implored, his voice a gentle but urgent plea. 

"Do not worry, lord husband," she murmured. "It's not for you."

Aemond's heart pounded in his chest, the dread of the unknown tightening its grip. What did she mean? Was she planning to end her own life; did she wish to hurt him by making him watch?

"Who is it for, then?" 

"Would you like for it to be for you?"

"I-No, that's not..."

Daenys placed the dagger against her collarbone, and Aemond blanched. Amused by his reaction she cocked her head to the side, as if contemplating a profound question.

"What would you do if I said it was for me?" 

Aemond's seeing eye widened, the realization sinking in like a heavy stone in his stomach. He took another step closer and the courtyard seemed to narrow around them. 

"Why would you even think of doing something like that?"

"I don't know. Why would you think of doing something like what you did?"

She trailed the dagger up the column of her throat, and then further up until it rested just above her left eye. The one-eyed prince's breath hitched, and something inside of him knew where this was going. He should have surged forward, he should have wrestled the weapon away from her, he should have slammed her head against the stone wall behind her, if only to stop her next actions. 

All he was capable of doing at that moment though, was standing still, waiting with baited breath. 

"You know I thought about it. I thought about ending myself right here in front of you. Letting you watch as I bled to death here. I wondered if that would hurt you half as much as you have hurt me. But that would be no fun at all, would it? And it would make no difference to you."

She took a deep breath, the slight waver in her lungs being the first sign of real emotion she had shown all evening. 

"And besides...why should I die? Why should I be the one to," — another shudder— "why should I be the one to die for your crimes? I have so much left to do, so why should I do you the favour of ending myself, when you don't give the slightest damn about me?"

"That's not true. You know that that's not true. You are the one person I care about most," Aemond was pleading now. In fact, he might have sunk to his knees in front of her, the way she had for him, but there was still too much pride left in him. 

"Liar. You are nothing but a fucking liar."

"Daenys pleas-you aren't well...let us..."

"An eye for an eye was it?" her words burned with fury but they remained calm, nonchalant as if she was merely discussing the weather. "Well then, did you get the eye you so desired? Did you pluck out my dead brother's eye? Did that bring you peace husband?" 

Aemond was taken aback. Is that what she thought of him then? Someone who would desecrate a corpse like that —not that there was a corpse to begin with. Someone that heartless and cruel? But he supposed he had given her all the reasons to believe him so.

"No! Of course not. Why would I...you have to know it was an accident. I would never..."

"Pity. If you had taken what you were owed, then perhaps you might have given the rest of him to me. Perhaps then there'd be something of him to burn."

"You know I would never do such a thing. To violate a corpse-"

"Says the man who has no trouble at all violating the living. Tell me, is there a greater violation than murder?"

The one-eyed prince was rendered speechless, so his wife continued with a long-suffering sigh. 

"The fact of the matter remains then. Your debt has not been paid. We shall have to remedy that. If it is an eye you want, it's an eye you shall get."

Daenys's subsequent grin had an unhinged quality to it and for the first time in his life, Aemond Targaryen found himself afraid of his wife. Perhaps equal parts afraid of her and afraid for her.

"I don't want anything," he whispered, shaking his head. "I don't want anyone's eyes. Daenys please you're scaring me."

"Ah, that's a shame. The debt must be paid after all. Unpaid debts lead to deadly grudges, as you probably already know."

Before Aemond could respond, before he could move a single muscle, she had already lifted the dagger to press deeper into her skin. In the brief second before her skin split, she thought of Luke. She thought of his pale lifeless body floating in the sea, his empty fingers reaching out but never holding. She imagined he'd look something like Lord Caswell, whose bloated swaying form hung from the stone arch behind Aemond. 

The dead were all the same, in that they were dead. 

Some things were worth spilling blood for. Some people were worth bleeding for. 

The blade left a neat, horrifying slash across her left eye, tracing a line from brow to cheekbone. Daenys bit her lip, stifling the instinctive shriek that begged to escape her throat. Aemond, recoiled with horror, feeling the spectre of pain that unfolded before him almost viscerally.

A thin line of crimson welled from the fresh wound, staining her pale skin, but she was resolute, determined to bear her suffering silently, just as Lucerys had. She would carry her silence to her grave, just as her brother had. Still, the twitch in her lips belied her. The dagger dropped from her trembling fingers, echoing against the courtyard stones, and without hesitation, she drove her hands into the bloody aftermath.

Blood gushed over her face, a torrent of red that reminded Aemond so much of his injury. He watched in numb shock as Daenys pried apart the torn skin and drew out her eye, the macabre appendage trailing a bloody root. She cradled it for a moment in her hands as if one might cradle a newborn babe, and though her other eye leaked a steady stream of tears, her face remained expressionless. 

Aemond was jolted from his initial paralysis when she walked forward to press the disembodied thing into his shaking hands. 

"I always did say I would have given you one of my own, you only had to ask," Daenys's whispered voice was strained as if it took all her remaining strength to keep it steady. "I would have given it to you with my blessing and a kiss."

She grabbed his jaw, her fingers leaving red smears on the prince's chin. Then she pressed a kiss to his frozen lips, staining them too. She tasted of blood, and although her actions were smooth, precise, her hatred felt unfamiliar and hard. Something within her had torn loose. She wanted to devour him. She wanted to chew him up and spit him out so he resembled the mass he cradled so protectively in his hands. 

There was no time for that now. She could feel her consciousness slipping, feel her resolve crumbling as more of her flowed out of the gaping wound in her face. If she passed out here, then everything would be for nought, and she'd never make it back home. 

"I-I never asked for it."

"You never asked for it, but now you have it."

With a curse and a kiss. 

"Here's your debt repaid in full Aemond. An eye for an eye."

"I'm sorry, gods I'm so sorry," Aemond's eye filled with tears, the one that could shed tears anyway. 

He had lost his right eye, and she had given him her left. Standing side by side, they might have made a whole person even. He could still feel it, when she had sliced into herself, he had felt the sharpness of his nephew's blade and for a few short moments, he was ten again, except this time there was no thrill of riding Vhagar for the first time humming in his blood. Only guilt and horror. 

"Oh, Aemond. Valzȳrys."

The prince's heart clenched at the sound of the words that spilled from his wife's lips. A remnant of another time when they were full of love, but there was no affection in her eyes—eye, for only one of them was capable of emotion— now. There was only emptiness. 

"I have paid the debt my brother owed you. But rest assured, the blood of Lucerys will be repaid tenfold. A debt your entire family will pay. A brother for a brother if you will."

Aemond's blood ran cold.

"What are you insinuating?"

"I don't have to insinuate anything. I will kill your brother. A fair trade don't you think, a brother for a brother, especially now that you have my eye."

"I did not ask for your eye!" Aemond raised his voice in frustration. 

"And I did not ask for you to kill Lucerys... yet here we are."

"That was an-"

"Do not say accident, you fucking coward. At least own up to it. At least admit to your crime."

She turned around to leave, her tongue heavy and her eyelids heavier. It was becoming increasingly difficult to stay on her feet. 

"You're leaving?"

Daenys scoffed, her voice barely audible now, "You expect me to stay in this prison then? Play house with the man who murdered my brother, pay my respects to his traitor brother and conniving mother? The family who stole my mother's birthright?"

Something in Aemond snarled at her insult toward his mother, or perhaps it was the panic that reared its head because she was leaving. She was finally leaving, just as his grandsire had warned him. She was going to abandon him. 

"You cannot leave. I am your lord husband. If I demanded it, you would have to stay," Aemond snapped. 

She could not leave him, she would not. Not her. Not the only thing in the world that he had for himself, the only good thing that had ever happened to him. The only thing his brother hadn't spoiled for him, although he supposed he had ruined it all by himself without any help.

"You really think you can make me stay, because what? The gods say that I must? Abide by your pathetic rules that bind wives to their husbands, slave to their every whim. I did not make vows of obedience to you. I do not have to listen to a word you say."

"No, please. Don't go. Don't leave me here," Aemond's tone shifted immediately. 

He inched forward faster now. Beseeching her to let him hold her. To let him keep her. He reached out to snag her forearm but she shook him off just as swiftly. Her skin was burning. She was burning. He could have held on harder, could have forced her but she had picked up his dagger again and he could not imagine where she'd embed it next. 

"Would you come then? If I asked you to abandon your family and support my mother's true claim, would you come with me," she meant to mock him, but something in her eyes implored him.

It was a chance. It would not absolve him of his sin, but she shared in his Kinslaying and if he bent the knee to her mother, then perhaps one day she might be able to forgive him, and forgive herself too. 

Aemond stayed silent, his jaw clenched, his outstretched hand retreating. That was the one thing he could not do. 

"I do not hold a candle to the flame you harbour for your family. Who was I to think that you would choose me."

The one-eyed prince frowned, a tear trickling down his face. 

Or I to think that you would choose me. 

He watched her limp away, her hand coming up to cup her face only when she had turned around, her back toward him. 

He let her go, and when she finally disappeared from view, his attention returned to the carnage he still clutched tightly in his hands. His anger, his panic, had made him ball his fists, and when he separated his fingers, he was relieved to find the bloody sphere still whole, the violet iris wide and unseeing. 

He finally sank to his knees, unable to keep down the surge of bile that rose in his throat, and burned his way out of his mouth, depositing the meagre contents of his stomach on the stone floor. 

The moon continued its silent vigil, casting a luminous embrace over the troubled prince as he heaved, still clutching the final remnant of what he had lost. 

He had always been a better knife than a person and now he had turned the girl he loved into a gaping wound. She hated him, but he knew he'd see her again. It was the law of the world, for a knife and a wound to seek each other out, because they spoke in a language of damage no one else did. 

A/N: likes/reblogs/comments are highly appreciated, would love to hear your thoughts <3 Comment to be added to the taglist