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myfandomprompts · 6 months

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To Risk It All | Chapter 1

Aemond x Dragonrider!OC

Summary: Daera arrives in King's Landing. Aemond remembers her vividly.

Tags: possessive!Aemond, angst, mature, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, slow burn, obsession, blood, canon divergence, king Aemond, smut and fluff, dragons, war, F&B spoilers. | Prologue - Masterlist

Though Daera had never stepped foot in King's Landing before, the Dragonpit was unmistakable as she glided down her dragon towards the sandy ground, the Dragonkeepers welcoming her as they once did with Laenor. The red towers of the castle were visible in the distance, the chaotic sound of the city rising in the air as well as the stench that came along with it. All of this was so new to her. Once in the carriage that would lead her to Aegon’s Hill, she wondered what her mother and cousins had planned upon their delayed arrival. Would they demand justice, revenge?

Leaving the Queen, she was led to her brother’s temporary chambers. Upon seeing him again, Daera did not hesitate to throw herself in his arms, holding him tightly as if she feared he would disappear. His purple eyes were red with exhaustion, his small figure pressing against her chest as she held him close. She asked about him, but Daemion only voiced a weak affirmation before diving back into a worrying silence.

“Mother and father’s cousins are on their way, they will be there soon. Then we will go home,” she assured him, stroking his silver curls fondly.

His silence endured and she could do nothing but respect it, basking in their shared embrace before they were led to the royal sept. She held her brother’s hand while she paid her respects to their father, trying to not care for the gruesome state of his head under the white linen while Daemion stared at the ground, speechless.

Daera could feel him trembling, so she squeezed his hand harder.

Soon nightfall came and Daemion had still not said a word to her and when they came back to their apartments within Maegor’s Holdfast. The ghost of their father floated around them like a cold breeze, icing their blood, making them feel so alone, so powerless.

She asked him if he was tempted by a nightly ride upon Seasmoke, hoping to spark something other than sorrow in his eyes, but he only dismissed her with a curt shake of the head. “Daemion… we must be strong. Carry on what he left behind for us, and for mother. You can cry in front of me, you don’t have to hold your tears.”

He finally looked at her, pain plaguing his expression, and she wanted to wipe it away, make it disappear forever.

“You don’t cry,” he remarked with watery eyes.

“I do. I only reserve my grief for the ones I love, and that is you and mother. Certainly not the court,” she answered with bitterness, thinking about those who had done nothing while Vaemond Velaryon was mercilessly slain before them.

Now all that she hoped was that one day, her brother would be able to overcome the trauma the Rogue Prince had inflicted upon him, upon her family. She would make it so, she promised.

Daemion didn’t say a word, instead wrapped her arms around her, flattening his face against her and her heart ached in affection. “Goodnight, sister.”

As she watched her brother close the door, she realised that she, on the other hand, could not bear to be alone. She was scared to be left with her thoughts in such an unfamiliar place and desired to return to what comforted her.

She glanced at each side of the corridor, trying to remember the location of the stairs that led to the main hall. She moved through the castle silently, her steps leading her through the red faded stoney walls until she reached the outyard, where the night had settled so deep she shivered under her cloak.

“I demand to be taken to the Dragonpit,” she called out to one of the guards standing at the main gate.

“It is the hour of the ghosts, my Lady.”

“And what of it?” Daera said, arching a brow high on her forehead.

The guard looked at her with a repressed scoff. “So I cannot prepare a carriage only because you wish to see your dragon, I am afraid.”

Daera fumed inside, but was unwilling to give up. “Then find someone to escort me on foot.”

This time, the guard did not hide his snicker. “I do not think that a young Lady such as you should be strolling the streets at this hour.”

“Open the gates.”

Daera turned around to see the newcomer as the guard widened his eyes. She had to narrow hers in order to see properly amidst the shadows of the courtyard but she could recognise the silver hair around his face and the smug demeanour of the man that was now advancing toward them. He wore a long dark green cloak that enveloped his figure, boots scratching the floor.

“Yes, my Prince.”

The guard did as told, gesturing to his counterpart to help him move the heavy doors in order to allow the Prince passage. Once outside of the walls, he suddenly stopped in his tracks to look at her over his shoulders. “Are you coming or not?”

Daera almost jumped, startled to be addressed and scurried to follow him, earning an annoyed look from the guard that closed the gates behind them. The silver-haired man only smirked and resumed his walk, forcing her to catch up with him.

“You are the Velaryon girl. Daera, is it? The Winged Seahorse?” he said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye while hastening his pace away from the castle’s gates. “You ride Seasmoke?”

“Yes.”

The way he behaved along with his unabashed confidence left little to no doubt about his identity, and Daera’s suspicions were confirmed when they came to a stop at a junction, now facing each other for the first time.

He looked at her, fully, and she could see the lilac eyes, the curly silver hair, the proud jawline and the redness under his eyes. She had not seen them in years, but it was easy to guess which out of the three children of Viserys Targaryen he was.

“Yes, my Prince. And you are Aegon Targaryen," she concluded, hinting that they had never been introduced properly.

“Indeed, we’ve met once before. But we both grew up since that time,” he said with poise before giving her a onceover. “And for the best, it would seem."

Daera stayed emotionless. “I suppose so. We must live up to our House’s name the best we can. Make them proud.”

He looked at her for a little while, assessing her features and the way she spoke, trying to decide if the girl was not very quick witted or if she was just careful around him.

“I am sorry for your loss,” he finally said after his study, watching as her eyes turned grimmer at the mention of her father.

“Thank you."

She did not know what to say, and gazed at the paved stone. She had successfully managed to exit the castle grounds but from her position, she had no idea in what direction the Dragonpit was, the night sky hindering her vision.

But her curiosity was piqued by the unexpected encounter, making her momentarily forget about her destination. "May I ask where you are going at this hour, Prince Aegon?”

“The only place I can truly entertain myself,” he smirked. "I would have invited you to come along, but as I understood, you have a dragon to ride.”

She only nodded, deciding that she did not want to drag a more precise answer out of him by the way he mysteriously looked at her.

“The Dragonpit is this way, you’ll have to cross Fleabottom,” he pointed vaguely to the street on the right. "Keep on and you’ll see the light of the dome from the plaza. I hope the Dragonkeepers are in a good mood,” he added. “For your sake.”

He reached for his hood to put it over his hair, covering the very recognisable silver of it. “Oh… Thank you.”

“Have a nice flight, Daera.”

As she watched him stride off southward, she felt jealous of his hood, feeling silly for not having brought one of her own to hide her silver head. Instead she was left to squeeze the fabric of her cloak around her and began walking, thoughts swirling around the oddity of the King’s son.

Were all of his children like this? Helaena? Aemond? Daeron?

She thought about Aemond, the boy she had met with two eyes before he lost one out of pure perseverance. She had seen neither him nor Helena since her arrival, and she knew Daeron to be in Oldtown. But now that she had met one of them, she found herself most curious about the others.

It was a shame that she was to leave as soon as her great cousins’ plea would be heard.

Aemond cursed under his breath when he saw that none of the adjacent streets he had taken were empty, his plan to remain unnoticed moot. His evening ride on Vhagar had been pleasant, a necessity after the dinner that had left him fuming, remembering the sufficient snort of Lucerys Velaryon as the roasted pig was served, and how Jacaerys Velaryon had thought he could provoke him. In fact, Aemond felt vengeful still, much of the ire accumulated within him since that fateful day on Driftmark demanding to be released, and he felt it more and more difficult to keep his rancour at bay.

The noises of the night owls above and the drunks staggering on the main street steered him away from his murderous thoughts, noticing with relief that he was getting closer to the Red Keep as he walked further up Sour Belley Row. When he took a turn to a street he hoped to be empty, the thoughts invaded him once again.

If only he could challenge Lucerys Valeryon, challenge him in a fight, or even sneak into his room, unseen, and make him beg for him to stop when he would try to take his eye as wel-

A loud laugh echoed from one of the back alleys, and he instantly stopped in his tracks, his jaw clenching. "... the King passes away, head to the dark clear glowing flame that turns as green as the dawn…"

He looked under his hood to search for the source of the voice, only spotting two shadowy forms as another shrilling laugh echoed against the stone walls of the alley. From afar he recognised an old woman he knew blind, talking to a stranger whose back was turned to him.

He sighed with annoyance; this woman was known to be some sort of seer, overlooked by some, adored by others, and decided to pay it no mind, rather walking away before earning more of her questionable predictions. It was easy for a charlatans like her to announce the death of his father when he had one foot in the tomb, and her sort only deserved his disdain.

But as he casted one last disapproving look to the old crone, he caught sight of the stranger’s silver hair facing her and stilled again.

It was a woman, a young woman that was wearing noble clothes, both blue and black, wrapped around a thick dark marine cloak. A Targaryen? One of Aegon’s bastards? No, she was far too old. An imitator perhaps? Not from her clothes and the way she stood herself. She then turned her face slightly, and curiosity took the better of him at once.

She was too beautiful not to be of noble blood, and there was only one person that possessed her characteristics and was currently in the capital: Daera Velaryon, the girl he had watched grieve Laena Velaryon all of those years ago on Driftmark, and had sometimes after claimed her brother’s dragon, following his own steps.

The one who had led him to the dune where Vhagar slept.

She had grown much, she was nothing like the girl he had met by the seaside. Before he could realise it, his feet had advanced toward the two women on their own, and as he stepped into the light, the white orbs of the seer snapped at him like she had suddenly recovered the ability to see. The Velaryon followed her gaze and took a hasty step back when she realised that he was right behind her, a jasmine fragrance filling the air as she moved.

He could not blame her for her reaction, knowing that he would look rather imposing to her as he beat her both in height and size and bore a hooded cloak that hid most of his face, keeping it in the shadows.

“Ha! There is the vision, the one you will cower under!” continued the old woman, drawing back both Aemond’s and the girl’s gaze on her.

Then the young woman spoke, allowing him to finally hear her voice for the first time in years, memories coming back to him at the softness of her tone. “I… I don’t understand.”

The seer cackled again and began searching for Daera’s hands, reaching to her front and bringing them into her own. “The God of Flame and Shadow understands, my dear,” she said as she tapped her hand and grinned widely. "You, on the other hand, don't need to."

Aemond was almost certain that the woman had ‘looked’ straight at him as she said her last piece, but he had no time to react for she let out another cackle before letting go of Daera’s hands and proceeded to slowly limp away in the dark alley, holding on to the wall for direction.

Both him and Daera watched as she disappeared in the shadows before she turned to face him, making Aemond remember where he was and where he was going before he had stupidly lost himself in a dark alley.

He could feel her gaze on him, scrutinising, the scent of jasmine spreading in the air.

“Who are you?” she asked, her eyes searching under the hood that covered his face.

He congratulated himself for letting his sapphire eye bare of leather for that particular occasion. No one could know he was away from the keep, even less recognise him.

“None of your concern, I’m afraid.”

His tone was cold, unforgiving. He wanted to turn away before she could ask any more compromising questions, but his body refused to move, as if it was detached from his brain.

“You smell of dragon.”

He stopped himself in time from lifting his head completely in reaction, keeping his features safely tucked away in the shadows. Instead, he watched her intensely under his hood as she kept searching for his eye, gears visibly turning behind her violet ones.

“It’s unwise to insult strangers away at such a late hour. Especially alone,” he answered with all the menacing tone he could muster.

She straightened at that, and if she hadn’t considered him dangerous before, she was now. Or was it prudence?

“I didn't mean to insult you. I only… I just wanted to head to the Dragonpit by myself, but I got… distracted,” she gestured behind her where the woman had disappeared, staring at the now empty street deep in thought. “I wish to see the dragons for myself.”

“Hm,” he found himself muttering, wondering why in the seven hells he was still standing there instead of being on his way back already. Instead he found the want to goad her, to test her. “Maybe if you had stayed on the main street and avoided being lured by beggars and liars, you would have found it without difficulty.”

He saw her chin lift up at that, like a creature ready to strike, to defend itself.

Like a dragon.

“Well, if I was lured so easily, like you put it, I wonder what you are doing here,” she said defiantly, “Fancy the words of a liar or do you just have a likeness for dark alleys? Or perhaps more discriminating endeavours?”

He considered her for a moment before letting out a scoff, surprising himself and earning a puzzled look from her. She had the grit of her father, he could give her that. Or was it the fire in her veins, the same that he possessed?

"See the dragons," she had said, instead of explaining that she wanted to ride hers. Just like he had.

Exactly as he had said all of those years ago.

He hummed again, scrutinising her. “Maybe you should ask someone else, there are much more informed people in those streets than old fortune tellers and strangers that smell of dragon. You would be better to take your chance with them.”

He allowed himself a short moment to see her expression shift from defensive to surprised, before turning his back to her swiftly and finally walking away, letting a smile creep at the corner of his mouth.

That was unexpected.

“You think you can protect him? Ha! He will fall, girl, you are powerless against their wits. Grief plagues you all, but so do teeth and claws. Maybe wings will cover his tomb?”

The blind woman's voice kept ringing in her ears as she walked down the main avenue. Protect him? Protect him from what? From who? Was it her brother, she had asked. Was it Daemion? But the woman had not answered her, only mocked her further.

"One candle burns as the King passes away, head to the dark clear glowing flame that turns as green as the dawn and see your heart within it, your future."

What had she meant?

Daera raised her head and exhaled in relief when she saw the enormous roof of the Dragonpit over a nearby building. She began walking again, carefully staying in the dark and avoiding every person she would cross paths with.

The seer had called to her, asked her to approach, but when Daera had said that she had nothing to offer, taking the woman for a beggar, she had seen the white of her eyes and felt compelled to go to her. The old woman had then passed her hand over her face before laughing and speaking mysterious words, taunting her. Should she even take her seriously?

But against all odds, it was not the most peculiar encounter she had made this evening, and wondered if maybe, the night had more in store for her.

The hooded man that had inexplicably materialised behind her, listening in to the incomprehensible words that were spoken to her, had unsettled her and now occupied her thoughts as she climbed the steps to the Dragon Pit. He was tall and lean, from what she had seen. His voice was soft, but firm, and obviously rather cold as he spoke and she wondered if he always sounded so scathing.

She had only seen his jawline in the dark, the rest of his face hidden from her, but she found herself more intrigued by him than by the blind woman's words. And the smell, sandalwood mixed with smoke. But it was the distinctive scent of dragon that had her eagerly curious. It was the exact same smell as when Princess Rhaenys came back from a ride with Meleys, or as Laenor had once, or as Laena did. Was he a Dragonkeeper? Or maybe just a worker there? Maybe she had been wrong completely, and had mistaken the scent for another odour. But he had not denied it, rather had looked unphased when she had pointed it out. She might think of every possibility but her instincts already knew the truth.

She wondered what the odds were of meeting two Targaryen Princes in one night.

Chapter 2

Thank you @babyblue711 & @arcielee for beta.

Tag list: @knightprincess@baconturtle @witheredoffherwitch @lexwolfhale @toodlesxcuddles @watercolorskyy (sorry I forgot to tag you in the prologue)

#aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfiction #smut #slowburn #hotd fanfic #fanfic #dark aemond #dark!aemond x oc #usermyfandomprompts #aemondedit #aemond x velaryon #tria #triafic

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shesjustanothergeek · 10 months

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His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Nineteen

Masterlist of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: I felt this story severely lacks dragon content. I want to make up for that. I hope you enjoy the little spice I've sprinkled in there toward the end. ;) Thank you so much for your support!!

Chapter Warnings: Implied cannibalism, dubcon.

Translation Guide: Zaldrītsos ipradagon: little dragon eater. Pālēs: turn. Kelītīs: halt. Lykirī: calm. Dohaerās: serve. (I tried my best to use proper grammar. Please don't call the High Valryian police.)

"Father, don't blame us for trying to live, for trying to love, for wanting more? Why did you dress our pleasure up as greed? While you're limiting our love, taking sunlight from the seed? Why did you give us hearts we don't understand, like an apple in our hand that you'll never let us have?" - AURORA, The Devil is Human.

It was midday before you decided to venture from your cotton sheets, letting you and the servants rest as much as possible before ringing the bell that signaled them to your room. Your ladies did not commence the morning ritual you had come to despise. They, too, must have also participated in a celebration last night and were nursing the same headache as you.

You stretched and yawned as you basked in the yellow afternoon sun that peeked through the emerald curtains, relaxing your achy muscles. The balcony appeared relatively comfortable in the daylight, and you decided to venture out, sitting on a cushioned bench. A cold breeze passed through King's Landing, picking up the withered plants across the ground and billowing your night dress around your bare ankles.

Winter was only weeks away. The once viridian foliage was now barren, revealing the wooden bones of each plant. The grass was a burnt orange from the lack of nutrients the soil provided, and no more earthy-smelling flowers were sprouting within the cracks of the flagstones. Death and decay surrounded you, bringing comfort despite how desolate everything appeared.

You hoped that snow would fall in the coming months. It would be the closest thing to home again.

You could reminisce fondly about your first wintertide at Dragonstone, the thick flurry of snowflakes blanketing the sandy beaches and rocks that covered the island, but never upon the castle itself. You remembered staring out of one of the many black stone towers and observing the steam rising from a carved basilisk as the slush melted. It was as if the haunting creature had the heat of a living being. It disturbed you immensely, plaguing you with endless nightmares alone in your apartments.

For the small folk, winter in King's Landing was always strife. Sickness and starvation were rampant throughout Flea Bottom that time of year, inflicting everyone no matter how plentiful the harvest was. It agonized you to no end each season you spent at Dragonstone, your stomach in knots if Madam or the other residents had enough to eat and if they managed to survive whatever illness spread.

The wintertime of your sixth year was the most gruesome. The growing season was met with drought, and when it came time to harvest, the merchant carts were bare. Ma tried to conceal the difficulty that year brought by distracting you with oral lessons in history and math, but no matter how much a parent attempted to protect their child, it was never enough.

You remembered the taste of the stale loaf of bread the whores shared throughout the week, the texture of jerky meat, and the ache it gave your jaw when chewing.

The atrocities you witnessed your fellow neighbors commit left you feeling hollow, memories of people burying the emaciated bodies of their kin only to dig them up. You were uncertain why they would do such a thing at the time. It was a sin against the Seven to desecrate the bodies of the deceased, and you had questioned Ma why they would do it. She hadn't given you an answer then, but you didn't need one. You already knew. Even in your youth, you could comprehend the atrocities of man.

Though you were a Targaryen, the hot blood of the dragon coursing through your veins, you preferred the colder weather.

Perhaps the reason was because of the Northern blood within you. It was rumored that your mother came from the area, but exactly where you were unconfident. The only other person who could attest to your mother's lineage besides herself was dead, swept from this mortal realm by the Hand and the Stranger, their head on a spike left to rot until forgotten. But you would remember. You would never forget nor forgive.

You thought back to the feast and how scores of meals were brought out and left over by the end. The scraps alone were enough to feed the entirety of the slums and still have more than enough to satiate all the guests. You hadn't felt remorseful at the time as you indulged yourself in a slice of ham, but in the light of day, the unawareness of your actions caused a profound contempt to grow. Gazing over the hundreds of cottages in various architectural states made you realize how disconnected you became from your roots.

Living a life of luxury made you into what you despised as a child—an out-of-touch, uppity, supercilious highborn.

You and the court members had more in common than you admitted, which was disgusting in and of itself. A sickening feeling of self-hatred permeated in your gut, causing you to retreat into the comfort of your space.

You needed to change. You needed to use your position of power to help the people of King's Landing.

You hadn't realized you were pacing until your ladies entered your room, a silver tray of tea and fruits in Dyana's hands. Fiora gave a charming grin in greeting as Jeyne went straight to your wardrobe, a storm of crimson skirts.

"Good morn Princess," the littlest maid said, placing your food on a table.

You smiled in admission, but it did not reach your eyes, putting your thumb between your teeth and pulling a piece of dead skin. Fiora and Dyana changed your sheets, replacing the breathable cotton with thicker wool as you broke your fast. The red cherries stained the tips of your fingers, mixing with the blood from your torn cuticles, the juice burning the open skin. You didn't wince at the pain, continuing to eat as your mind conjured up different ideas for the future.

From this moment on, you promised yourself never to stop. Never douse the flames of your drive to do what needs to be done. You would burn any lord, lady, prince, king, or queen who stood in your way.

***

The day continued without a hitch. Most of the guests from last night were still asleep or had already left for their homes while you were resting.

It was pleasant to walk the halls without having to create a polite conversation with people who would turn in the same breath and spread vicious rumors of your brother's parentage and spit vile insults that always referenced your birth. As twisted as it was, you hoped that one day you would hear something more interesting than the word "bastard." But it might be too much to ask the people at court to use their minds for something besides counting how many coins they reaped from their land.

Truthfully, you didn't have much to do. There were no Council meetings after events like these; everyone was still recovering from the night of debauchery, even the men who helped run the kingdom. It left you with nothing to do except plot and scheme and live within the torture of your mind.

You made your servants dress you in your favorite winter riding clothes to mark the season's coming. A magnificent statement piece that Rhaenyra commissioned for you as a Winter Solstice present.

The short, long-sleeved dress bathed your frame in flowing blood-red velvet trimmed with black braiding and lace with a high collar secured at the neckline to protect you from freezing temperatures. A dramatic steel pin of a three-headed dragon kept the heavy material together on your shoulders. A collection of practical and fashionable buttons were sewn onto the fabric to cover your torso, stopping at your hips to give you a range of motion and the allusion of a full gown to hide the trousers underneath.

You decided to take advantage of the rare break to see your dragon. You felt terrible for neglecting Cannibal the past week, leaving him to explore the skies of King's Landing in his solitude. He was accustomed to a life of isolation. Most of his fellow species were terrified of him and left the black dragon alone for a good reason.

In the beginning, Cannibal did not take well to being kept in the part of Dragonmont where the other creatures were, thrashing in the Keepers' hold like an unbroken stallion and breaking the chains that bound him multiple times.

Daemon had commanded you to beat submission into Cannibal more than once, giving you a long whip to have him obey your commands. You were hesitant and felt your heart shatter as the leather cracked his scales, but after much arguing, your father convinced you that it was the only way. Beasts like the Cannibal did not listen to any other language.

You had snuck out of the castle the evening it happened, leading the ferocious animal out of the caves and letting him fly to his home on the eastern side. There was a silent understanding between rider and dragon that night as you stared into his menacing green eyes.

Cannibal felt your sorrow for hurting him, realizing that you were just as afraid in your ways, lashing out whenever threatened and angry at the world for things you could not control. That night he lowered himself willingly to let you ride, taking you over the islands of Driftmark, Sharp Point, and Claw Isle. He did not speed through the midnight skies but soared high and low, letting his pointed wings slice the salty waters below and glide over the clouds until all you saw were stars and the waxing moon.

Since then, you and the Cannibal had a true bond of rider and dragon. Not one owning the other, but equals on land and the sky.

Unsurprisingly, you could not find your dragon within the Pit as you explored and asked the Keepers if he had appeared. While Cannibal had stopped briefly, attempting to enter for a snack but wisely deciding against it, no one had seen him.

You continued journeying undeterred, following your instincts as you traveled along the outer ring of walls in the Red Keep, enjoying the brisk air on your cheeks. You found a small exit that went out to private beach access. To those outside these red rock walls, it was only accessible by boat. You were optimistic he would be there, curled under one of the many rocky cliffs that reminded you both of home.

Sure enough, you saw the droppings that could only belong to a beast of his size. There were tracks on the shore, indents, and drag marks throughout the pale sand. Piles of bones leading up to where you spotted him, eyes shut and scales so dark that it looked like there was a hole in this realm. You noticed his nostrils twitch as you drew closer, indicating that he caught the scent of what you carried and was awake.

"Zaldrītsos ipradagon," you called in a sing-song voice, feigning to creep behind him as you scratched his tail with your fingers.

Cannibal pretended to nap, acting as if you couldn't see how his eyelids moved.

"Zaldrītsos ipradagon," you repeated, walking closer to his horned head. "I know you are sore that I have neglected you these past days, but I've brought something that I think you'll like..." you trailed off, exaggerating the last word.

Finally, he opened his eyes, the vivid yellow-green of his irises indicating that this massive void was an animal. You revealed the dragon egg that you stole from Dreamfyre's clutch.

"You know, I barely made it out alive," you taunted, raising the textured brown oval as Cannibal unhinged his jaws.

Before he could take a bite, you leaped away, hiding his present behind your back as he let out a warning growl. You rolled your eyes, the cruelness of your actions not lost on you.

"Oh, please. If you eat me, who else would risk their lives to steal another dragon's child for you?" you interrogated as if he could talk. "Exactly. No one. You would be all alone again, hoping someone like me would come along so you don't have to work for food again. I think you have become rather lazy over the years. Mayhaps I should stop bringing you food and make you fend for yourself, hmm?"

You felt the earth tremble beneath your feet as Cannibal stood, shaking the stray sand that landed on his body as he bared his elongated teeth.

Numerous people said that dragons couldn't comprehend the common tongue and that it was pointless to communicate with them, but it wasn't about what language you spoke, but how you felt as you said it. All animals could sense the emotions of other beings; you didn't have to bark to have a dog listen to you. You didn't have to squeal so that pigs knew when their slop was coming; they could sense it-- sense you.

You had grown a habit of testing the limits of Cannibal's basic instincts, wondering in the back of your mind if today might be the day he loses himself to his past and becomes the monster the small folk of Dragonstone believed him to be.

But the conviction you held within your bond would snuff that out quicker than he could fry a hatchling. It didn't make it any less frightening, though, as a roar blew loose the hair from your pined style, saliva splattering on your forehead.

"Fine! Here!" you relented, throwing the egg directly into his opening mouth as he chewed with a stomach-turning crunch.

He still wore the custom leather saddle between two large spikes on his lower neck. It was always a hassle for the Keepers to take off, and you needed more time to remove it when you first arrived at King's Landing. Cannibal became accustomed to it and hardly noticed the thirty-stone piece of equipment as he continued his hermit lifestyle.

"Let us fly today," you spoke softly, with no hint of your jesting tone from earlier. I shall see if I can wrangle you something live when we finish. Some pork would settle nicely in your gut, don't you think?"

You stood with a giddy smile as Cannibal lowered himself so you could clutch hold of the rope ladder along his side, adjusting until you were satisfied in your seat. You loved the aching stretch the saddle gave between your legs, your dragon pushing from the sand into the skies. That was also a relaxing feeling for him as he flapped his enormous midnight wings.

Cannibal took you over the entire townlet, soaring above the small folk as they halted and stared. Seeing as three claimed dragons were already housed within Rhaenys's hill, one being the largest in history, it shouldn't have been such a marvel to them. Though you took the admiration in stride, commanding your dragon with a "dracarys" as a burst of orange flames spewed from his massive jaws into the blue sky. You could hear the awe within their murmurs, smiling down at them as you shared your gift.

Your little dragon eater was more than happy to put on a show, nose-diving into a crowd of onlookers as they watched with horror and shrieks, sure that the beast was going to kill them before he abruptly swooped up, leaving them unharmed and knocking them over from the sheer force.

It was freeing to be on Dragonback. Especially when your dragon was more feared than even the war-hardened Vhagar, flown by the notoriously haughty One-Eyed Prince. To feel the wind whipping your hair, biting your cheeks, the sun warming you with its intense glow. You could feel the moisture from the clouds collecting on your thick black braids, creating tiny water droplets that glimmered like diamonds.

You flew over Blackwater Bay, the sea mist collecting on your eyelashes, the salty taste bursting on your tongue as you licked your lips. There were merchant ships larger than Balerion's skeleton residing at the many docks, the crew members looking like tiny grains of rice as they loaded shipments and hoisted sails.

As a child stuck to the sandstone streets of Flea Bottom, you never imagined yourself as someone who would one day be claiming the skies. The girl who once looked above at the stars as she sat on Lyra's lap was now one with them; what you wouldn't give for her to see you now.

Leaning your body and shouting the command, "pālēs!" Cannibal took you over the Blackwater Rush. Signs of life grew scarce and left only a few small villages along the river, their brick and mortar chimneys emitting the smell of woodsmoke as you soared over them. You were sure that those who saw the speeding dragon were met with fright. The almost demonic-looking blackness absorbed all light briefly before they were again met with the comforting rays.

The Red Keep came into view through the horizon as you circled back, the tallest structure in King's Landing sitting atop Aegon's Hill. Cannibal descended over the high pale redstone buildings, his wings barely a meter away from the tiled roof of the Tower of the Hand. With a smirk, you hoped that Otto was in there, crouching behind the stacks of parchment on his desk.

Suddenly, a roar sounded in the air. Your head swiveled around your body, searching for the noise, but you couldn't find it. You assumed the sun blinded your vision, causing your brown orbs to burn with water. You dug your palms into your sockets, rubbing the sting away as you felt Cannibal ascend.

The screech boomed again, followed by the sound of the wings of a dragon. You turned, prepared for the bright golden glow of the beast's scales. Aegon sat snuggly on his saddle, whipping the reigns so Sunfyre would go faster. You groaned in annoyance at the drunkard prince, shaking your head and commanding Cannibal to lose them before you decided to land.

"Put that wastrel of a man in his place, Cannibal," you snarked. "I promise to allow you as many Dragonkeepers that can fit into your mouth if you do." You swore he nodded in response, beating his ebony wings harder against the wind.

The frigid air pricked your eyes like needles, ripping out more strands of hair as they scratched against the sides of your face. You were glad you chose a warmer riding outfit, for the sun's heat was overpowered by the biting cold that dried your skin.

Cannibal showcased his skills, creating a distance between you and Aegon faster than his dragon could blink. You led them back to the original path you took. The fabric awnings that covered merchant stands ripped from where they were nailed as you flew by, carts carrying fruits and vegetables toppling over as your two dragons raced above. Turning sharply above the slums of houses you once frequented, you went to the port of Blackwater Bay, even more, populated than the inner mouth.

Ships of all sizes resided there, not just merchants, each coming and going, creating a mess of coordinated chaos only shipmasters could understand. The sails were various colors, Houses, and some without indicating what they were. You weaved through them, Cannibal closing his wings as his momentum carried you between the small gaps.

While you expertly dodged each boat, proudly smiling at the men below, you heard a deafening thud and crack, turning to see the pink and golden body of Sunfyre ramming into the mast of an unsuspecting crew.

"Kelītīs," you ordered Cannibal, positioning him as you saw Aegon and his dragon plummet into the brackish waters.

Panic seized your heart, telling your beast to land on the stern of the nearest ship, nearly capsizing it. Without a second thought, you dove into the icy Bay, the briny and freshwater searing your lungs. You swam to the ship Aegon crashed into, moving the floating pieces of stalwart oak out of your way as you said a silent prayer. Sunfyre's head rose above the water, flailing like a drowning cat until he pulled himself onto the sea wall.

"Aegon!" you called out, hoping he would answer you.

You paddled further into the wreckage, yelling out his name again. He still didn't answer, and you feared the worst. The repercussions of the eldest Prince's death were not in your mind; you only wanted to save a drowning man whose death would be your fault.

You inhaled quickly, forcing your eyes to stay open as you dove under the murky water. You could only see a few meters before you, the thick wool of your outfit slowing your movements and making your muscles work twice as hard. Struggling to resurface, you were met with the hull of a ship, swiftly dunking yourself again to avoid being crushed. You sucked in another breath, coughing the contaminated liquid out of your lungs as you looked at Cannibal. You screamed at him to block more ships from passing, and he pushed off, breathing a line of fire to prevent them.

The hair that had come out obscured your vision as you went under again. Your prayers were answered as you spotted an opaque figure, your fingers yanking the floating fabric of the Prince's clothes. You kicked and kicked your legs, straining against everything, pulling you under as you carried Aegon's lifeless body to the surface.

Locking your arms underneath his, you positioned him on your torso, leaning back as you swam to the port wall. The mussels and barnacles dug into your thighs, bending against the stone for support as you heaved Aegon above your head.

He spread on his rear, splayed like the Seven-Pointed Star, his ankles still hanging over the ledge. You realized he must have ingested water; using the last bit of strength, you flipped him over, smacking his back to get rid of it. Aegon sputtered a cough, water, and mucus spewing out of his mouth. You rested your arms on the top of the stone wall, catching your breath as your head turned low. The ground shuddering interrupted your rest, the water around you rippling with vibrations.

Two dragons stood face to face. One of aureate and one of coal, shimmering in the iridescent glare like a prized jewel, the other an ember of carbon and darkness. A low growl rumbled inside the anthracite one's throat; legs bent to pounce and smoke rising from its nose. The golden one put up its defenses, mimicking the stance of the other.

"Lykirī," you said breathlessly, trying to pull yourself over the levy, arms shaking. Cannibal's eyes flickered over you, unwilling to leave himself and you defenseless. "Dohaerās," you demanded firmly as your dragon obeyed, flying into the air before Sunfyre could attack.

"Princess!" a voice yelled. The clink of armor rang in your ears before two hands hoisted you onto dry land, your shins scraping against the ground.

They rolled you onto your rear, looking down with great concern. "Aegon," you panted, pointing toward the groaning man. "The Prince..." Unable to articulate, you only gestured, your tired stems quivering as you attempted to explain what happened without words.

The Cargyll twins directed their attention to the crowned Prince, helping him upright as they assured he was well. You didn't discover you were shivering until the resounding vibrations of your teeth chattering echoed in your skull. Your mind focused solely on rescuing Aegon as the sopping outfit stuck to your skin, the frigid autumn climate chilling you to the bone. A dark shadow of a man blocked what little warmth you acquired from the sunlight, squinting to decipher who he was and why he was only staring.

Ser Criston Cole stood beyond your quivering form, blankly peering down from his nose. The reflection of his silver armor seared your eyes as you turned away.

You couldn't speak. You couldn't think, concentrating on not being shocked by the freezing temperature. Abruptly a cloak was thrown, and you secured it around your form greedily, curling into a ball to conserve your heat as Ser Cole went over to the small group forming around Aegon.

You needed to get warm.

Why couldn't you get warm?

You hugged the wool blanket closer to your body, helpless to get what every nerve fiber was screaming at you to receive. Exhaustion washed over you, your eyelids gradually drooping.

Aegon is safe; you convinced yourself. There is nothing to worry about now.

You ultimately let the tiredness take control, shutting your eyes as you let out a shuddering breath, your finger loosening around the blanket.

"Princess," the faint title echoed beyond earshot. It sounded too far away, and you couldn't be bothered to reply.

"Princess," you heard softly again.

You couldn't understand why someone was calling for you. Everything was all right now. You could rest comfortably.

Your name was unexpectedly screamed, and you barely managed to pry your lids apart to see the terrified countenance of Ser Arryk Cargyll. You felt yourself lifted onto your shanks as they buckled, causing a surge of adrenaline to wake you partially as you griped the constituents that held you.

"She is soaking wet," you heard Arryk communicate before looking down at your blanched sallow fingers, holding them together with his palms. "Princess, please forgive me for what I plan to do. I must remove your clothes or risk you getting frostbite."

You still couldn't answer, a soft groan jostling in your nose as you felt your legs give out again, shutting your eyes. Intrusive digits began to unbutton your attire, your arms weakly pushing them away in protest. You didn't understand what was happening. One moment you were soaring high atop your dragon, and the next being forcefully undressed. Did Aegon have you again?

"No. Stop. Please," you begged, sluggishly swatting Ser Arryk.

"My Lady, I beseech you," he pleaded. "You will die otherwise."

You persisted, wiggling feebly in Arryk's hold as he stripped you down to your braes and breast binder. Tears of shame and powerlessness flowed down your cheeks, the salty trails warming the area briefly before chilling on the wind burnt skin.

The blanket wrapped around you again, the knight aiding you to his white horse. It didn't feel like you were there, seeing your figure in the surroundings from an outside perspective. Arryk tried putting you onto the saddle by himself, struggling as he couldn't lift the entirety of your limp body.

There were conversations that you could not hear as you leaned against his steely armor, your breathing becoming more difficult each second you stood. Another set of limbs came to assist, resting you on the front of the leather saddle, the pommel digging into your backside as you rested against the rider's chest.

The rhythmic swaying indicated that you had begun moving, hopefully to someplace where you could rest. Preferably scorching with a hearth the size of a solar and a fire blazing like the flames, Cannibal exhaled as you felt yourself fall into a deep slumber.

***

In your subconscious, you felt a tickle on your cheek, swatting it away as you drifted back to unconsciousness.

It happened again, this time a pull to your hair. You opened your heavy eyes, your vision blurry with sleep as you rubbed the afflicted area, turning over with an annoyed grunt. Then again, but now a pinch of your nose as you shot up, lunging into the person that so desperately wanted to disturb your rest.

"You," you spat, moving to get off the intruder.

"Me." Aegon smirked.

"Why are you here?" you interrogated, sliding off the bed to the roaring fire.

"I wanted to see how you were fairing. You gave us quite a fright," he admitted, gleaming smirk still on his pink lips.

Staring at him, you searched your mind, the memories returning in flashes. You, gliding over the streets of King's Landing. You pursued by a serpent of shimmering pink, orange, and gold. Aegon, falling into the dangerous murky waters of Blackwater Bay. He watched the recognition on your face, walking to your place by the hearth.

"And to extend my endless gratitude for saving my life." You scoffed, turning away from Aegon as he clasped his hands behind his back. "What is that now? Twice? I owe you," he admitted, sitting in a green armchair.

You released a huff, trying to distance yourself from Aegon as you went to the pot of tea in the center of the table. Pouring yourself a cup, you were pleased it was still tepid, with the taste of cinnamon and cloves warming your tongue. A bowl of stew rested next to it, the hazy memory of being huddled at the fireplace with thick fabric weighing on your icy bones as you sipped on the broth.

"You would have a debt if you thought twice about your actions," you cursed without thinking. "Do you ever think about how they affect other people? How they affect your wife, your mother... how they affect me?" Aegon's head lowered, his choppy blonde hair draping over his face as he fiddled with his fingers. "Look at me when I am speaking!" you yelled, storming over to where he sat.

"I am not going to lecture you as the Queen does, for you are well enough to know better. I want you to listen to me, hear my words." You kneeled before him, forcing Aegon's glassy eyes to meet your raging ones. "Your drinking and whoring wounds me deeply. You say that I am to put my trust within you, but then you lead two slaves into your bed, a place that we have shared. A place where I-" You choked on your words, a thick lump suddenly forming as you looked away.

You hadn't meant for this to become emotional. Your original intent was to have him whimpering at your feet and begging you to forgive him. The appeal of your sex was the key reason, but you were shaken. Watching in horror as Aegon fell into the Bay had scared you, truly and sincerely. It would've been partially on your hands, and his death, you realized, was not something you could stomach.

"We are allowed to have fun and forget our duty at times. I understand that our life is not what we would have chosen if given the choice, but we must take into account others. We do not have the freedom to forget people as others do with us. If we do then we become the ones who have hurt us, loosing our true selves."

Before you could continue, Aegon released a loud sob, slumping in the chair with his head in his palms. The sound was like an arrow to the heart, pricking your eyes with the intensity of it.

"I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry. I have tried to be everything they wanted of me. To be the son my father dreamed of, to be a boy my mother could love," he cried, his shoulders shaking. "Why don't they love me? Why does no one love me? Am I truly such a monster?"

You inhaled a ragged breath, pursing your lips as you held back your tears. You could not bring yourself to give Aegon the assurance he needed. He was not a good man by any means. He participated in child fighting pits, gambled to the point of gluttony, and bedded women who were willing and those who were coerced. By certain standards, he was a monster, but not to you. You could see behind the heinous actions he committed was a boy who never learned what was right and wrong. A boy who was neglected and abused since he was born for reasons he could never control, tormented by the realization that he would never receive happiness.

Aegon was a drunkard, a slut, a craven, a wastrel, and a deadbeat, but he was no monster. You knew that to be true even when blinded by loathing, rage, and grief.

Your chin began to quiver, and your pulse began to race as you extended a hand, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. Aegon snapped his head up, his glimmery amethyst eyes glistening in an ocean of tears as you rested his palm against your cheek.

"You are broken, as am I, but we are no monsters." You placed a chaste kiss against his wrinkled skin, showing him your sincerity.

Aegon's lips trembled in his pout, so deeply moved by your words that he collapsed into you. You returned comfort, snaking your arms around him and smoothing his frizzy hair as he cried into the crook of your neck, wetting the fabric of your nightgown with his tears.

You stayed together like that until his sobs turned into hiccups, squeezing you tightly against him as he steadied his breathing. Even then, you did not let go, ridding him of his shoes and outer tunic as you led him to your bed. You were both drained, on a constant emotional overdrive that sucked the energy straight from your souls.

Settling onto the top sheet of your feather tick mattress, you held your arm to Aegon, signaling he could lay beside you. He crawled in like a child to a parent with a nightmare, seeking the comfort of their protective embrace. You let him lean his head on your chest, your back propped up against the collection of pillows at the headboard.

His index traced the curve of your knee, sending tingles up your leg and into your chest. It was intimate, an action one would make to their lover, but it didn't startle you. And the fact that it didn't give you that nauseating feeling in your stomach did not frighten you either. You allowed his digits to slide further up your leg, to your navel, sternum, and back down again. It caused gooseflesh to cover your arms, your nipples hardening with the rush.

Aegon's back settled on your plush thighs, your heart racing out of your chest as he stared with his cracked, shimmering amethyst eyes. He looked like a boy, younger than your brothers, and you knew exactly what broken boys like him needed.

Wordlessly you undid the front strings of your nightgown, letting gravity slide it down your prickled arms and revealing your breasts for him. A sudden heat rushed through your stomach and between your shanks as you saw his pupils dilate, nearly swallowing his irises. You inhaled deeply to settle yourself, endeavoring not to show your uncertainty about being in such a vulnerable situation.

"May I," Aegon paused, choking on his words and wetting his lips. "Can I touch them? Please?"

Your pulse stalled at the inadvertent confession of his nervousness, an almost maternal feeling coming over you as you brushed his curly locks behind his ear. "Yes, you may, dear prince," you mumbled.

The sensation of his fingers gently kneading one breast caused your toes to curl, sparks of satisfaction igniting in your core. You were not proud of letting him do this to you, surrendering one of your most sacred regions to a man known to defile them, but it felt so good. It simultaneously made you feel weak yet powerful, confusing your head and heart on right and wrong.

Aegon was silky in his touches, adding another hand to your neglected globe and leaning his countenance ever so close to them. You tried to hide your enjoyment in his efforts, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as the once saddened boy transformed into the mischievous Prince and brushed his finger over your nipple. You needn't look down to know there was a grin on his face, but you did. The water pooled in his sights was now gone, contentment in its place as he did the same thing to the other. You tipped your head back to hide from his observant gaze, knowing that if you continued watching, a moan would fall from your tongue and only feed his never ceasing ego.

His hold became harsher now, attempting to get a reaction out of you as you held firm. Aegon's index and thumb pinched your nipples, upping his antics. Still, you did not make a sound, but the bend of your knees and scrunching of your nose were winning enough for him, letting out a breathy chuckle as he continued to grope.

Aegon loved your tits. They fit perfectly into his hands as if the Gods made them with him in mind. He hated how you bound them. He believed that they should hang freely (preferably in his palms) without anything to step in the way of their full glory. He understood you did it to repress the sexuality of your body to the people of the court, wishing that by making yourself less palatable to the men and less of a competitor in looks to the women, you would be respected.

Aegon learned you would never admit such a thing to him, but he wasn't stupid. You made choices with careful calculation and a purpose; he just wished it didn't come in the form of repressing your body.

You were exquisite. The way your dark lashes batted against your cheeks, your midnight hair so long and thick that Aegon wished to blanket himself with it. People would constantly say that Targaryens are closer to Gods than men with white hair and purple eyes, but he didn't see it that way. His family rode dragons. That made them Gods, not the incestuous looks passed down from generation to generation in hopes of keeping their Valyrian blood pure.

You were just as gorgeous as the songs claimed Aegon the Conqueror's younger sister, Rhaenys was, but not in the supremacist ways his family judged. You appeared human, but a Goddess in your own right, not one that came with a name.

"I love your tits," Aegon complimented, lost in his mind as he rested his forehead on your sternum.

It felt natural to surrender to your desires, ignoring the racing thoughts that screamed at you to stop this. Your fingers rested on his meaty thigh, digging into the flesh as the Prince latched his mouth onto your nipple like a babe, swirling his tongue against the bud.

"Aegon!" you shouted in what was meant to protest but sounded more like a moan.

Your digits gripped his blonde hair, not pushing or pulling but giving you the faux action of control. You felt the vibrations of his breathy grunts through your ribcage, causing you to rub your legs together in desperation as he sucked brutally.

"Oh. Aegon, please," you whimpered, unsure if it was a plea for him to stop or keep going as you arched your back.

Wave after of pleasure rippled through your breasts and straight to your core, feeling uncomfortably wet as he moved his mouth to the other. A dull pain sensation rippled through your free tit as Aegon slapped it, soothing the skin with his touch before doing it again. You could feel his hips moving into the air, seeking the same ecstasy he was giving you.

Without thought, you found yourself unlacing his breeches, your trembling hands searching for what hid there. You pulled his throbbing cock free, seeing it for the first time and noticing the pearlescent liquid leaking from the rudy tip. He barely fit inside your hand, only your middle finger and thumb touching as you swiped the essence from his silt, dragging it down over a tiny ridge and veins.

Aegon's hips bucked at your touch, biting harshly against your abused nipple. You squeezed his shaft in response, throwing your head back momentarily as you began to move. You raised your hand in almost a spinning way, gently tightening around his cockhead before sliding down again, repeating it over and over.

"Gods. You're so fucking perfect. Your tits are so fucking perfect. They would feed babes well," Aegon mumbled against the plump skin of your breast, moving to the other one. You couldn't conceal the brief shock at his vulgar, coarse, and heady words, making you lose your breath as you sped up your ministrations.

The eldest Prince continued thrusting into your fist, aiding you as hot air from his nose dampened your chest. "So good. So fucking good, little one," he rambled into your flesh. "You're so good to me, my pretty girl-my good girl. You know what I need."

His words temporarily stole you from your trance, trying to conceal it with the tightening of your fist. Suddenly, the real reason you initiated this came to mind. It was just another step in securing the throne for your mother. Everything was falling into place. Perhaps it was just nonsense spouted during the heat of the moment, but it was still said. It was what Aegon felt, even if it was because your hand was pumping his manhood. A smirk rose to your lips in victory, leaning over to slide a glob of spittle onto him to help aid in his pleasure.

"I do, Aegon. I know what my sweet prince needs," you confessed into his hair, using your free arm to push him further into your chest. "My sweet Prince needs to come for his pretty girl. I want to feel your seed dripping on my flesh." You placed a chaste kiss on the crown of his head, yanking the ends of his damp hair so he could look into your eyes, deepening the act of your siphoning hand.

"Be a good boy, and let go for your little girl. I know you want to."

Aegon nodded aggressively, his lips parting as he panted. His thrusts became twitches until you felt him go entirely still, mouth agape, as he released the loudest, most lecherous groan you had ever heard, his thighs trembling. You felt the warm ropes of his spend on your still-moving fist, his cock spasming as it aided your pumps.

You soothed him through the aftershocks of his little death, kissing the salty tears that ran down his cheeks from the intensity of it. You sang praises in Aegon's ear as he clutched onto your body for dear life, attempting to ground himself. You were unsure of what else to say as a sense of triumph washed over you, the doubts you had from days prior only a distant memory.

This would be easier than you thought. You didn't have to let him do things to your body. If you kept his prick busy, you could leave Aegon completely satisfied and smitten without concern.

Instead of speaking and letting your thoughts escape you, you gave the buzzed Prince a peck on the nose, sliding out from under him to find a rag as you cleaned him and your hand. You opened the covers for Aegon after you were finished, seemingly a simple offer for him to stay, but you knew the truth. A smile curled on your lips as you watched him crawl under the sheets, his breathing still faster than normal from his climax. You felt like the cat who finally captured the canary.

You scooted closer to him, wedging your arm under Aegon's neck as you directed him to lie on your chest. You kept the strings of your gown untyed, allowing him free access whenever he wanted. Almost instinctively, he took it, cupping the curve of your breast in his hand as he settled. You felt him swipe self-soothing movements over your nipple for it to become hard again, blowing cool air to keep it that way.

"Will you sing to me?" Aegon suddenly asked, catching you unaware.

"I apologize, but I do not think my singing would be the last thing you want to hear before sleep," you lightly teased. "I am no siren."

You felt him smile against you, moving even closer into your body. "'Tis alright. Your mere presence is enough to lull me."

You lay there in silence, a war raging between your heart and your head. There wouldn't be any harm in singing. If it were what Aegon wanted, then you would do it. After all, it was just another stepping stone toward your goal.

"When you call to me asleep up the ragged cliffs, I scramble. A single thread hangs limply down, and I breathe, 'Not now, not now.' And I find you all unwoven, trying desperately to sew. I know the kindest thing is to leave you alone," you started, feeling Aegon's eyes widen against you.

"When your seams have come unknitted, and you cry out to the sky, I've run out of my words; my song just let me die, me die. The rockrose and the thistle will whistle as you moan. I could try to calm you down, but I know you won't."

The Prince's rubbing of your body gradually ceased, drifting off into a much-needed rest as you continued to sing the only melody that came to mind.

"All the pins inside your fretted head and your muttered whens and hows, all your mother's weaves and your father's threads. Let me rob them of you now. Because I'll darn you back together when you think that you're bereft, and you'll wail, you'll scream, but I'll never stop because it's all that I have left."

You felt your breathing hitch, swallowing a lump that had suddenly formed.

"I wake and hear you calling, and up those cliffs, I climb, and I find you with a thimble weeping, 'May I?' I ask, 'May I?' And you gently gift it to me because you've no clue how to sew, and I know the kindest thing. I pray to god it's the kindest thing... I know the kindest thing is to never leave you alone."

Masterlist of Series

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How about that exciting chapter? What do y'all think about that?! The song I included at the end is by The Amazing Devil titled The Rockrose and the Thistle and is sung mainly by Joey Batey, who you might know as the bard, aka Jaskier, in The Witcher Netflix series. Please take a listen to it if you have the time to support them!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter because I enjoyed writing it!

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @alexandra-001, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @silverslive, @unclecrunkle, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @djlexi, @ynbutbetter, @honestlykat, @graykageyama, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @brezzybfan, @dd122004dd, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfild, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress, @bellameshipper, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @buckylahey, @justarandomflowerchildofthenight, @partypoison00, @please-buckme, @pastelorangeskies, @joliettes, @existential-echo, @priyajoyy, @valaenatargaryensdragon, @merovingianprincess, @rachelnicolee, @candy12110, @w3ird11, @ruhjkie, @somemydayy, @ariana-dumbledore8, @marikkjj, @zillahvathek, @sunfyresrider, @sunny-boy-06, @heavenly1927, @prettylittlelady, @hjgdhghoe

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snelbz · 11 months

Text

Better or Worse {13}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

Warnings: language, s e x

This chapter is NSFW. 18+.

I feel like everyone can see my nipples.

Realistically, I know that nobody but Cassian even knows that I have my nipples pierced, but my subconscious brain is yelling that everyone knows.

My husband, ever the overgrown child, is currently making a sand castle. A huge sand castle at that and he looks like he’s having a blast.

Turning back to the pages of the new romance I’d brought with me, he wasn’t the only one. With my earbuds in, I blocked out the sounds of the people around us and lost myself in the story before me. It wasn’t anything like the stories I wrote, but that didn’t make it bad. I loved reading books in different styles, always allowing my craft to evolve.

I was just getting to a scene where the male main character was on her front porch in the pouring rain, ready to tell the female main character his true feelings— and hopefully get some slow burn smut— when a shadow blocked my book.

Glancing up to look at my husband, I pulled one of my earbuds out. “What’s up?”

“I’m covered in sand and need to rinse off,” he said, holding out a hand that was, indeed, white and sandy. “Let’s get in the water.”

Curling my lip, I settled further back into my lounge chair. “I’m okay. I can’t anyways, remember?”

His eyes flicker to my breasts as he purses his lips as I use my new piercings as my excuse to avoid the cold ocean water. “Just come in up to your waist.”

I place a finger in my book as I cock my head. “Just go in by yourself. I’ll watch you.”

He frowns, and I can’t believe that I find it cute when he pouts. “What if I drown?”

“You’re an excellent swimmer.”

“What if a shark comes at me?”

“Punch it in the nose.”

“What if I drift off with the waves and I lose you?”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Then I’ll send out the Coast Guard until you’re found.”

His shoulders sag. “I don’t want to go by myself. Please?”

I sigh, and even I will admit that it’s dramatic as fuck. “But it’s cold.”

“It’s not that bad,” he says, having already been in once. He holds out his hand, again. “Please?”

I stare at him for a moment, but he stares back with the same intensity.

“Fine, up to my waist, no more than ten minutes,” I say, and bookmark my page before taking his hand and letting him pull me out of my lounge chair.

If it were just because I didn’t want to get in, I would not be letting him lead me into the water. There is no way in hell that he wouldn’t drag me under, splash me, or do whatever he could to poke at me.

But thanks to his new favorite jewelry I own, I can’t get in the water for another eight hours or so. I’m not risking an infection from any piercing, but sure as hell not on my nipples.

True to his word, the water isn’t as cold as I feared and I even went out a little past my waist, careful to keep my breasts from bobbing into the water. Cassian stayed with me, wrapping his arms around me and kissing me sweetly. This was a public beach, families and couples and kids everywhere, so it wasn’t like we could get hot and heavy anyways. But still, I could feel the heat simmering just below the surface in that kiss.

The memory of Cassian’s mouth on me the night before had all of my nerves lighting up. He hadn’t let me touch him, had said it was about my pleasure not his, and I had come not once, but twice, all without him touching my overly sensitive nipples.

I told him I wanted to do something we’d never done while we were on vacation. We went to bars and restaurants with our family, but we never went out and did anything else.

I wanted to go to a club. I wanted to dance and feel the music pounding through my body and lose myself in the lights. Cassian was not nearly as excited as I was.

Still, when we got back to the beach, we each started getting ready. I packed a little black dress just for this occasion, along with a pair of strappy heels. My hair was curled, free of its usual updo, hanging loosely down my back which was mostly bare, thanks to the dress I had on, which was open-backed and showed off my ass magnificently.

When I walked out of the bathroom, I stilled.

Cassian is sitting on the foot of the bed, watching a soccer game in his underwear. Although he had showered, he hasn’t done much since then, when I took over the bathroom and he went to “get dressed”.

Apparently, getting dressed means getting rid of his towel and pulling on his underwear.

And socks.

“Babe, there’s only fifteen minutes left and Illyria is down by one,” he says, eyes glued to the screen. “Let me watch the rest and I promise to dance with you all night.”

I think that’s fair enough. “Can you at least finish getting ready while you watch?”

Something exciting happens on the screen and Cassian jumps to his feet. “THAT’S RIGHT, MOTHERFUCKERS!”

I suddenly hope our neighbors are currently out of their rooms. Letting him watch his game, I go to his suitcase and pull out a pair of black jeans, along with a black, long sleeve tee that I shake the wrinkles out of.

As he sits back down, he glances over at me, and stills. I’ll never get tired of that, watching him look at me for the first time. His eyes go soft, then fill with lust, and his lips part as he lets out a breath.

He motions for me to turn around, so I give him a little show, turning slowly. When I face him again, it’s clear his eyes were lingering on my ass. “Good?”

“Why do you always have to look so damn good while trying to make me leave this room?” he asks, the game long forgotten. “It’s torture.”

“It’s my specialty,” I say, blowing him a kiss and laying his clothes out on the bed. “We’re not staying if it goes to overtime.”

It didn’t. Illyria scored one more time with forty seconds to spare and the game ended. True to his word, Cassian dressed, brushed his teeth, and we were out the door within five more minutes.

The club, called the Pleasure Barge, was just a few buildings down from our hotel. It had pleasure cruises that left the beach every half an hour, but that was not my focus for the night. After showing our ID’s at the door, our hands were stamped and we were let into the club. The music was loud and I could feel the bass thrumming through my entire body. I turned to Cassian, to see if my excitement was mirrored on his expression.

He couldn’t have looked more miserable if he tried.

“Smile,” I said, pulling on his hand and finding a table along the edge of the dance floor. “Go get us a couple drinks and then we’ll dance.”

He mumbled something I didn’t catch, but headed to the bar regardless. A few minute later, he returned with a vodka cranberry for me and neat whiskey for himself.

I sipped through my straw and watched him. “You could try to have fun, you know?”

“There are far too many people here for me to have fun,” he replied, bringing his glass to his lips and looking around.

“Finish your drink and I’ll make it fun for you,” I promised and his eyes landed on me.

It’s ridiculous how he can look at me and make me feel completely nude. It’s a talent that he’s always had, one that’s always made my heart beat a little faster and my knees shake.

He downs his whiskey in a few gulps, surely hoping to make sure I quickly act on my statement. I try to keep up, hasilty making my vodka cranberry disappear before dragging my husband onto the dance floor.

The music was loud with a heavy bass, and as soon as we were out in the mass of people, his hands were around my waist and my body was sliding up against his.

We haven’t gone clubbing since our early twenties, but I’ve always loved to dance. There’s something freeing about it, once you decide to not give a damn what anyone else thinks.

I throw my hands in the air as I shamelessly rub my ass all over my husband’s groin. My back is pressed against his abdomen, and I can feel his heart beating erratically. It seems that he doesn’t mind dancing with me, after all.

At least, that’s what I can assume from the way he palms my breast.

I swat his hand away as I laugh, turning to face him and sliding my arms around his neck. “We’re in public!”

“There’s at least twenty couples fucking in the bathroom right now!” He yells back. “I think me grabbing your boob is the most innocent thing going on here!”

I laugh again before getting lost in the music. Cassian must really love me, because I lose track of how many songs we dance to before he leans close to my ear and says, “Break? I need a drink!”

I nod so I don’t have to yell over the music and we find an unoccupied table across the dance floor.

“Stay here, I’ll get our drinks,” he says, giving me a chaste kiss and grabbing my ass.

I bite my lips as he goes, watching the way his muscles move beneath his shirt.

I pull my phone from the hidden pocket in my dress, checking my texts.

Elain has texted our group chat with pictures of a soft pink and gray nursery. She’s officially begun nesting, starting to put away the tiny clothes she’d received at her baby shower. This baby wouldn’t be here for another few weeks, yet she already has a larger wardrobe than I do.

I'm beyond happy for my sister and Azriel, just as happy as I was for Feyre and Rhys when they found out they were pregnant with Nyx. But it also felt like a shot to the heart every time I thought about the pregnancies we’d lost. Gwyn had suggested that we tell our families, to open our grief up to those that loved us. I want to and so does Cassian, but neither of us are ready.

Soon, we keep promising ourselves, and we will, but not yet.

I sense someone pause at the table next to me and I lean into him, smiling up at him, before I realize it’s not my husband. Jumping back, I put a hand to my chest. “Oh, my god, I’m so sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

He lifts a brow, and he does it in a way that tells me he’s used to flirting. “No worries. I’m Justin.”

I blink. It’s been a long time since I’ve been single, and Cassian and I got together so young that I almost don’t catch what’s happening here. “Hi, Justin. I’m married.”

He laughs, and I can’t deny that he’s attractive. A few years younger than me, I’m sure, maybe twenty-four or twenty-five. His hair is a chestnut brown and his eyes are blue, and they’re scanning my body from the top of my head to my toes. “I don’t mind that. A lot of married women vacation here. Girls trip, right? I’m known to make a girls trip a little more worth while.”

I can’t help it. I laugh. I laugh until I’m snorting. “I’m sorry,” I say, trying to catch my breath, “I just…does that line typically work on women?”

He flashes me a grin. “You tell me.”

“Oh, Cauldron boil me, no—”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

I stare at him, nearly dumbfounded. “I just told you—”

“You’re incredibly beautiful,” he says. “By far the most beautiful woman in this place.”

I hesitate. “Thank you, but—”

“Would you like to dance?”

This guy just isn’t getting the hint. He takes my hand, but before I can pull it away and tell him hell no, I hear my husband’s voice.

…………

Cassian

………….

I know I have anger issues.

I know my anger comes quickly and takes a while to fade, and I know that sometimes I get pissed over ridiculous shit, but there is nothing ridiculous about this prick taking my wife’s hand.

With both drinks in my hands, I stop behind Nesta and ask, filter long gone, “What the fuck are you doing?”

His stupid, smug grin melts away the instant he sees me. “Hey, man, I was just telling your wife how beautiful she is—”

“You were just leaving,” I say to him, interrupting.

“I’ve got this, Cass,” Nesta says, snatching up her drink as soon as I set it down on the table.

Nesta wasn’t going to dance with him, I know that, I could see the look on her face as I approached, but my fuse is short and I’m about to blow. My higher reasoning is gone and I’m pissed at this asshole who had the gall to touch my wife, at the club for existing, and at Nesta for dragging me here.

“Seemed to be doing real well while I was gone,” I snap, not tearing my eyes from the prick who’s still standing at our table.

“Excuse you?” I can hear the righteous indignation in her voice as she turns in place to glare up at me, the jackass behind us forgotten.

“I’m gonna go,” he mumbles, backing away. “You two have a good night.”

I want to say something, to have the final word, but Nesta beats me to it. “Go fuck yourself, Justin.”

Whirling back on me, her eyes are blazing. “Do you really think I was flirting with that asshole?”

“I don’t know what the hell was happening,” I say, losing the tenuous hold on my anger. “I walk up and he’s holding your hand and asking you to dance. What else did he say?”

“He hit on me and I told him I was married.” She emphasizes the word by holding up her left hand and pointing at her wedding rings. “But he wouldn’t take the hint.”

I know if I say something right now, it’s going to get me in trouble, so instead, I toss back the double shot of Gentleman Jack I ordered, feeling it burn all the way down. “I’m ready to go.”

“I’m not,” she seethes. “I want to dance, I’m having fun.”

I gesture towards the crowd on the dance floor, empty glass still in my hand. “I’m sure if you can find your friend in there, he’d love to dance with you.”

Her mouth snaps shut and she’s seething. “Wow.”

I shake my head. My hands are shaking and I feel like punching a wall, flipping a table. “I’m going back to the hotel.”

“No, you’re not.”

I turn to leave.

I know it’s a dick move. I know I’m being an asshole. But it’s better than causing a scene and I’m right on the edge of doing just that.

It’s taken me months to get to the point of being able to casually reach for Nesta’s hand, to flirt with her again, to be the guy that she needs and then there’s this guy…who comes out of nowhere and has the audacity to touch my wife like she’s not a goddamn masterpiece.

He has no right.

I crash through the doors of the club and into the fresh air, taking a deep breath.

Nesta’s night behind me. “I should’ve known.”

“Known what?” I ask, not stopping. I keep trekking ahead in the direction of our hotel.

I’m seeing red.

I can’t make it stop.

“Known that you would make a mess of this,” she says, heels clacking on the sidewalk behind me. “You didn’t want to go in the first place. I should’ve known.”

Her words hurt me but I can’t stop. I’m too blinded by jealous rage. “Go back inside. I’ll see you later.”

She barks a laugh but there’s no humor in it. “You’re a dick.”

I don’t answer. She’s right and I can’t deny it.

I also keep replaying that asshole taking her hand over and over again in my head. Nesta wouldn’t cheat, I know that. There’s not a single doubt in my head that she’s loyal to me. That doesn’t stop the scenarios from playing out one by one.

He takes her hand and they dance and she has fun with him, instead of her boring husband who would rather be watching a soccer match in the hotel room. She laughs at his jokes and he smiles at her in that douche bag way he did.

It fucking infuriates me.

I spend the entire walk back to the hotel playing out stupid scenarios that would never happen and by the time we make it to the elevator, I want to turn around and go back to the club and break that asshole’s jaw.

Nesta angrily punches the button to call the elevator and in the back of my mind, I know I’m ruining our vacation. I’m overreacting and I need to apologize, but I can’t. She’s my fucking wife and no one other man will put his hands on her.

We don’t talk until we make it to our room, when I push open the door with far too much force and she follows me inside.

“Are you happy?” She snaps, plopping onto the bed and taking off her shoes with shaky hands.

“Fucking ecstatic,” I say, kicking off my own shoes. “Can’t wait for what you have in store for tomorrow.”

Her back straightens as a newfound fury brews in her eyes. “You know, you’ve always been a jealous asshole, Cassian, but you’ve reached a new level tonight. Congratulations.”

“Don’t,” I warn, yanking at my belt, feeling like my clothes are suffocating me.

“Don’t what?” She yells. “Tell you that you’re being a dick when you’re being a dick?! I was having fun, Cass, and you ruined it! We were having fun! And then you started overreacting out of nowhere! All of the trust that we’ve built? Gone! Because you couldn’t even trust me to warn off some prepubescent twat without your help!”

“You don’t get it,” I hiss, and I know my tone is cruel, but I can’t control it.

“Of course.” She laughs, but humor is obsolete. “Of course, I don’t understand.”

“You don’t!” I yell, and she nearly flinches which hurts me more than it hurts her. “I didn’t touch you for almost a year, Nesta! Then this guy shows up out of nowhere and touches you without a second fucking thought!”

She stops then, the tension in her shoulders fading, if only a little. The anger in her eyes turns to concern. Sadness. “Cassi—“

“Do you know how many days I spent wanting to just reach over and take your hand? But I couldn’t.” My anger is dissipating, and now I’m just tired. Now, I just feel foolish for my outburst, but I shake my head. “And this random fucking stranger just…does it.”

She takes a step towards me, but then stops. “You have to trust me to take care of shit like that on my own, Cass—”

“You shouldn’t have to,” I say, crossing the space between us and cradling her face in my hands. “As your husband, it’s my fucking job to take care of you, to protect you, and that includes someone putting their hands on you.”

“Doesn’t give you free reign to be an asshole yourself,” she murmurs, voice softer than it was before. Her eyes are on my lips, heavy lidded, lined with thick dark lashes. Her makeup is smudged just a bit from our time on the dance floor.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe. “I’m sorry I’m an asshole, but seeing him touch you, even just taking your hand, when you’re the most precious thing on the whole, godsdamned planet?” I shake my head, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “I lost it.”

“You’ve always had a short fuse.” Her voice is whisper soft now and at some point, her hand ended up bunched up in the front of my shirt. “It only takes a spark to set you off.”

“And there you were holding a match and some kerosene.”

I’m not sure which one of us moved first, if it was conscious thought from either of us, but her hands were in my hair and her mouth on mine a second later. I had no idea where her phone was and I didn’t care. Nothing would interrupt us tonight.

She gasped as I picked her up, cradling her ass, her legs quickly wrapping around my waist. Then I was laying her down, covering her with my body, refusing to waste another second.

She clings to me, her dress hiked up and I grind into her, already making her moan. She reaches for my shirt and pulls it off, her lips only leaving mine for a second to pull it over my head.

If I felt out of control before, it’s nothing to what I feel now. I’m no longer in control of myself, my being. She has me in the palms of her hands, ready to do whatever the hell she wants. I need it, I need her. It’s been too damn long.

I slip her dress down her body and throw it away. She lays before me in nothing but a little lace thong, and those damn nipple piercings are staring up at me.

My cock is so hard it’s agonizing. Unbearable. I’m fumbling with the button of my jeans, but Nesta rolls me over and pins my arms above my head, kissing me fiercely.

A year of lust and want and need, of longing and heartache and distance, has all been building up to this moment.

Nesta leans back, breathing heavily, her eyes searching mine. “I need you. Now. Don’t be gentle.”

Without a word of warning, I roll us back, grinning down at her. “As you wish.”

I claim her mouth in another savage kiss, tugging on her bottom lip as she works on getting my pants off. For a moment, she seems to be having as hard a time as I was, but then I feel them go loose around my hips and we’re both shoving them down until my cock is free pressing against her thigh.

As I grab the waistband of her thong, Nesta lifts her hips but instead I rip them off her body, the shreds of lace landing on the floor by the bed.

She gasps and leans back to look at me, but anger isn’t lighting her eyes. Arousal is. “Those were expensive.”

“I don’t give a shit,” I say, wrapping an arm around her waist and scooting us both farther up the bed, until her head rests on a pillow. My lips are on her neck, finding the spot where her neck meets her shoulder and sucking.

“Gods, yes,” she groans and I smile against her skin.

One of my hands skims down her body, pausing to tease the swell of her breasts, then the heavy underside, careful to give her nipples a wide berth. I drag it down her toned stomach, pausing as she shivers beneath me. I glance up at her. “Are you okay?”

She nods, eyes burning. “I need you, please, Cass.”

My fingers skim over her sex, making her jump, which brings a smirk to my face, and then I slide them between her folds. She’s already so wet, slick and warm, but that doesn’t mean she’s ready for me. It’s been months since I’ve been inside her, but hurting her is the last thing I want to do.

I slowly slide my middle finger inside of her, watching her face as I do. She gasps, and her back arches, and her legs spread wider for me.

I give a couple of slow, taunting pumps inside of her before adding another finger. She moans quietly, and I can’t help the fact that I’m getting a little more rough.

Which she seems to enjoy.

“Cass,” she breathes, and her hips are writhing, moving in time with my fingers, now slick and glistening as they pump.

She gasps again as she reaches down between us, fisting my cock. I groan as she squeezes, and then my mouth finds hers once more.

Adding a third finger, it’s now more of just a tease. She’s ready for me, undoubtedly, but I can’t seem to stop. I look down between us, watching as the sheets get wet beneath us while her hips sway and grind against my hand. Her breathing is hitched, her chest heaving, the sounds escaping her mouth echoing throughout our room. When her knees begin to shake, as her fingers dig into my back, I know she’s close.

“Come for me,” I breathe.

Her body tenses as she yells out a curse, and I feel her clench around my fingers. I thrust them back in one last time, deeply, loving the way she feels as she comes around me, and circle her clit as she rides out her orgasm.

The grip she has on my cock is nearing the point of painful, but feels so damn good that I almost don’t want to remove it.

Almost.

But I need to be inside her. I need to feel her, everywhere. To become one with her again after so long.

As she comes down from her high, I kiss her neck softly, sucking and licking, and pry her hand free from where she still held me. Stroking my cock, I climb over her, listening as her breathing evens out, before planting my free hand beside her head and meeting her gaze. There’s so much I want to tell her, so much I want to say, but I don’t need to. I see all of it and more reflected back in her eyes.

Lining myself up, I slide between her folds, coating myself in her slick heat and teasing her clit with the head of my cock. She gasps every time and my grin grows.

Her eyes narrow and she grabs my hips while lifting her own, trying to position me at her entrance. I keep just out of reach, teasing her, and watching as she becomes increasingly needy by the second.

“Cassian,” she whines, throwing her head back and I love it. I’ve got her in the palm of my hand, just like she has me in hers.

Leaning down, I drag my teeth along the graceful column of her throat. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

She grabs a handful of my hair, tugging my face up to hers and crashes my lips to hers. We break for only a second, just long enough for her to whisper, “I want you to fuck me.”

And then I’m plunging into her, heeding her request to not be gentle, as I push in to the hilt in one hard thrust. She tears her lips from mine in a moan and I watch as her breasts bounce and those piercings flash in the low lighting.

I wait there, deep inside of her, dwelling in the feeling. After such a long time apart, this feels so right, so perfect. My hands roam her skin and cup her face as I give her one gentle kiss before completely unleashing myself on her.

I pull myself out to the tip and thrust into her once more, gaining the same reaction. I can’t stop watching her. After pulling myself up on my knees, I bring her legs up over my shoulders and grab onto her waist. She doesn’t want me to be gentle, so I won’t be. I know what she likes.

I wait for her eyes to open up, wait for them to connect with me, before pounding into her quickly, aggressively, relentlessly.

She doesn’t give a damn that we’re not in the privacy of our own home, that these walls are paper thin. She moans, screams, curses my name, and it consumes me.

I’ve spent so many nights dreaming of this, reliving the memories of our sex life, but those fantasies didn’t compare to how she sounds, how she feels. I watch her chest heave, her breasts bounce with every thrust of my hips. I watch her eyes roll back, watch how her brows are pinched and her lips remain open. She reaches up to the headboard behind her and lays her palms flat against it, grounding her.

A burning sensation is growing low in my spine and I groan as I grip her waist hard enough to leave bruises. I’m not going to last much longer, I know that. It’s been way too long since I was inside of her, but I need Nesta to come one more time. I can tell she’s on the edge, can tell by the way her hips are starting to quiver and my name is falling from her lips like a prayer. I fucking love it.

I hold her legs to my chest with one arm while my free hand dips to our joined bodies. Swirling my thumb around her clit, I grit out, “Look at me, Nes.”

With great effort, Nesta’s eyes open, locking onto mine. She reaches for me and I let her legs fall apart, settling in each side of my body as I drive into her, my fingers rolling her clit.

Her fingernails bite into my back as she wraps herself around me. “S-so close, Cass.”

I murmur, my lips next to her ear, “Come for me, sweetheart,” and bite down on her neck.

As if she was powerless to defy my words, her orgasm slams into her, making her back arch, pressing her breasts into my chest, as she calls out my name. I fall over the edge right behind her, pumping into her in erratic strokes until I go rigid, eyes rolling in the back of my head, my cock buried deep inside of her.

The room is silent save for our heavy breathing. Falling to the side, I grab Nesta and roll her half on top of me, kissing her until I feel like I’m going to pass out.

When the kiss breaks, Nesta laughs quietly and buries her face into my neck. “Holy shit,” she whispers, “I missed that.”

“Me too.” I brush her hair back and kiss the side of her head. “We’ll have to do it more often so that you don’t start missing it again.”

“We can do it every damn day and I’m still going to want more.” She leans up and looks at me. The love in her eyes is overwhelming.

“Good.” My eyes never leave hers. “Me too.”

When she kisses me this time, it’s gentle, slow. We kiss like that until we finally fall asleep.

#better or worse #nessian bow #nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian #snacmc collabs #snelbz x theladyofdeath collab #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #sjm fanfic #sarah j maas

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maries-gallery · 10 months

Text

Beach day with Chevalier

genre: fluff, nsfw, mdni

warnings: soft sex, female bodied reader

wc: 1200 words

Summer had dawned on Rhodolite in the flap of a bird’s wing, the streets of the kingdom now drenched in generous sunlight and animated by Zephyr’s gentle breeze. It was the least the gods could send to preserve the people from the ripe Sun in the sky.

Usually Chevalier remained in the palace during the hot season, locked in his office amongst royal documents and affairs, when he did not retreat to the quiet of his private library.

Rarely did he step outside of the castle to bathe in the Sun, and rarely did he take any time off to enjoy the pleasures of a weekend by the beach.

Not that he ever enjoyed the seaside anyways.

But this year was different, for this year Chevalier was not alone anymore. And he knew you’d probably be happy at the thought of a weekend away from the palace with him.

He could already picture that genuine sunshine smile on your features, the one that lit up his world and made him think that maybe this world had other things to offer than duties and a crown.

His heart fluttered in his chest at the thought of you, so cheerful and excited, beaming with joy at the prospect of a weekend by the beach. And it is this thought precisely that drove him to make reservations for a cottage on the beach, facing the translucent waters of the Benitoitian sea.

And although he hates the beach, hates the sand that gets everywhere, hates the scorching sun that licks his skin and hates the salt in the waves, Chevalier knows he made the right choice when you throw your arms around him in a flurry of thank yous when he tells you to keep your next weekend free.

The white cottage is not anything extravagant or impressive, Chevalier knows you prefer it cozy and would choose this kind of inhabitation over a luxurious mansion any time. A modest exterior of white painted wood, a small porch that leads straight to the sandy beach with a plush rocking chair, a bedroom for the two of you, a tiny kitchen with everything you might need, a bathroom and a living room. All with wooden floor and light flower painted blue tapestry covered walls.

The interior is to your tastes too, Chevalier made sure of it. Crochet curtains cover every window to welcome the light summer light inside ; not that you’d need much coverage from the outside world considering this beach to be pretty much isolated. Dark wooden furniture sits in every room, trinkets and seashells stand on shelves, white linen sheets and a comfortable couch.

But he knows you won’t be spending much time in the cottage anyways, as your first wish is to take a walk on the beach and go for a swim.

Of course he follows, not especially keen on getting wet or taking sand back home, but as long as you smile he can endure whatever. And reading on the beach to the gentle sound of the crashing waves isn’t too bad either.

So he lies on the towel you spread out for the two of you, enjoying some much needed peace as his eyes alternate between running over the lines of his new read and stealing glances your way. And for the first time, Chevalier finds himself liking the beach, if only for the sight of you picking up seashells, twirling in the water and swimming like a fish in a pond, or just for you lying beside him on the sand, taking a nap under the watchful eyes of the kind Sun and his own.

But the day has only started and as the two of you wander in the streets of the seaside village your eyes land on a small market that lines the shore.

“Come.” Chevalier urges you, hand in the small of your back as he leads you to the first stand.

“But you don’t like-” You start, throwing him an hesitant glance.

“I do not, but you do.” And with that the debate is close.

You take your time strolling through the many stands, taking a look at everything they have in store, Chevalier a silent guard that follows after you, the softest of smiles on his lips as he watches over you, attentive to the things you take an interest in.

And there is one particular item that catches your fancy, he notices. A cute flower hair claw of a pale yellow colour that he knows would look splendid in your hair and flatter your complexion. So he does not understand why you put it back and proceeded to walk away.

Foolish simpleton.

Of course he buys it for you.

The joy bubbling in your eyes and the wide smile that lights up your face as he pulls it out from his pocket to put it in your hair enough to satisfy him and for warmth to fill his chest. As planned, it looks ravishing on you.

You also find a white light summer dress to go with it, that compliments your figure and twirls when you dance. One that Chevalier swears to take off once you come back home this evening after a trip to a local restaurant.

And although the meal made your taste buds sing, nothing compares to Chevalier’s rough hands grazing the sensitive skin of your back as he unzips your dress and unties your swimsuit. Nothing compares to the thrill and impatience that knots in your stomach as his hands wander down your sides to your hips to remove your last piece of clothing.

Your own fingers trace the defined muscles on his chest, your touch like fire on his cold skin, one that only fuels the kernel of desire inside of him and that wakes every fiber of his being. Gently, he pushes you down on the bed, crawling over you. Lips immediately seeking yours before wandering down to claim your throat and nape with his teeth and tongue.

Never satisfied until your supple skin blooms with the hints of his burning love for you.

You know the night is going to be long when your eyes meet his, two pools of molten blue darkened by lust for your flesh, your soul and your heart. Of course you are happy to give it all away for him. And only him.

His hands caress and grip, searching every part of you as if trying to make sure no piece of you falls apart under him and the strength of his desire. Until his fingers finally reach the one treasure he never fails to crave, the only treasure he vows to keep to himself.

His eyes on your features, engraving every reaction of yours in mind, from the way you gasp for air and your gaze shoots up to meet his as he slides two digits inside of you, to the way your world crumbles as you come on his fingers and arche up against him.

Then, when you catch your breath, his hands find yours, pinning them over your head and on the plush pillow beneath your head, your thighs part for him as a soft needy sound comes from your throat. And in a room drenched in moonlight, his hips meet yours again and again in a concerto of moans and cries.

Your legs wrap around his waist, seeking him closer and closer still, wishing he could crawl under your skin and find your heart beating for him, join it with his.

“Ah-! Chevalier-!” Your hold on him tightens as he picks up the pace, focused on hitting your sweetest spot until you cannot bear it anymore and your voice goes dry.

“Say it-” He sheathes himself inside of you again in one powerful thrust, “ -Again.”

You do, calling his name into the night over and over again, chanting your lover’s praises as his thumb flicks over your precious pearl and the stars in the sky come to greet you. Until he, himself, cannot hold himself up above you anymore and comes crashing beside you, letting you snuggle up to his side. The two of you finally closing your eyes as the Sun rises in the horizon, showering the both of you in pink light.

taglist: @aquagirl1978 @randonauticrap

send me a text if you’d like to be added <3

star banner by the talented @/saradika

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simverses · 1 year

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Castle Kit Windle - Build Set for Castles: Walls, Floors, Rooves

Once upon a time in Sims 2 there was a world of mine, called Windle. In fond memory of that world, I have given this HUGE new build set the name Windle. It started with a wish to adapt the Castle Kit Build items from Sims 2 Store converted to Sims 4 - and then it has grown. A basic version of the set was converted early by @zx-ta, and I have used them as a base for some of the edits. My version is slightly edited though. But more about that later. Now we start with the Walls, a set of matching Rooves, and a couple of matching Floors. PaigeTurnerSims made a S2 version, which I started with. Pic of her S2 set:

I converted them and adapted them for Sims 4.

There are 4 Basic swatches for this set: Grey Stone, White Stone with Gold, Black Stone with Red, and I also added a Sandy version, useful in worlds with a more sandy color scheme.

There is also a foundation made from these textures.

Floors

Two floors: stone floors with accents. There are so many gorgeous stone floors out there, which also work nicely with these walls, but here are a couple that follows the color scheme.

Rooves

Two rooves - very similar, but matching the deco pieces which I also will share.

Happy building! Much more to come :P

Oh and the set has a special thumb, which makes it a bit easier to find the different parts:

Download Castle Kit Windle Build Set Part 1: Walls, Floors, Rooves (Curseforge)

#sims 4 #sims 4 cc #sims 4 medieval #ts2 to ts4 #sims historical #sims 4 buybuild

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hypnojon71hunks2heroesaiart · 25 days

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After the last few pics, the AI Co-Pilot Designer locked down on me tight. It blocked me about 10 times 'til I finally started completely over with this prompt and got the following pics.

A handsome Asian merman with a white tail is lying next to a Caucasian shipwrecked sailor on a white sandy tropical beach. The merman has rescued the sailor. Photographic

I got blocked a few times and finally found the culprit: the fact that the sailor had: ripped pants, EVEN THOUGH I had put ripped pants in at first and gotten the first set of great pics. I took it out though and got the following.

I also added the kissing and the castle back and got this. Love the jewellery the AI is coming up with:

A handsome Asian merman with a white tail wearing a necklace with a silver spiral shell pendant is lying next to a Caucasian shipwrecked sailor with on a white sandy tropical beach. The merman and the sailor are kissing on the lips. Romantic castle in the background Photographic

#ai art #ai generated #gay #muscles #superhero #merman

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wastelandmoony · 2 months

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Déjà Vécu: Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine : Doomsday

Characters: Remus Lupin/Reader, Sirius Black/Reader (no use of y/n), James Potter, Petter Pettigrew, Regulus Black, Marlene McKinnon, Mary MacDonald, Lily Evans, Evan Rosier, Barty Crouch Jr.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI; talk of SA and ab*se.

Déjà Vécu Masterlist

Companion Playlist

Read on AO3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

January 5th, 1977

Someone was launching paper airplanes at her head, and though it was incredibly distracting and annoying, she knew that if she turned around to acknowledge it, the offender (most likely Barty Crouch Jr seated two rows back) would burst out laughing. So instead, she stared ahead and tried to focus on copying down the proper ingredients for Veritaserum. Another muffled thump as the fourth airplane made contact, this time landing on the desk. On one of the wings in neat, tiny handwriting read open me.

She unfolded the parchment so cautiously she might has well have been defusing a bomb. The note written within was in the same uniform script: Meet me on the viaduct bridge after class.

The penmanship wasn’t familiar, and she didn’t share this class with any of her friends, so who could’ve written it? It definitely wasn’t Barty, mostly because she wasn’t entirely sure he could read or write. She didn’t dare turn around in fear of an onslaught of laughter or a quick jinx. Crumpling the parchment and shoving it deep into her bag, she spent the rest of Potions trying to decide if venturing across the castle after class was a smart idea.

———

It was in fact, the stupidest idea she’s probably ever had. It was fucking freezing outside, pair that with the breeze coming from the river below the bridge, and she had ceased feeling her extremities 15 minutes ago. Against her better judgement, she waited for the note’s mystery author, leg bouncing with a combination of anxiety and possible frostbite.

After 20 minutes, she sighed, standing up and resigning to the fact that she had fallen right into the trap of some stupid little—

“Hey! I didn’t think you’d actually show up,” a voice said from behind.

She turned to find a familiar tall, sandy blonde Slytherin boy grinning at her.

“You wrote the note?” She narrowed her eyes, more certain than ever that this was a sick joke.

He laughed softly, the sound giving her goosebumps…and weirdly not in a bad way (she’d unpack that later), “Yeah, that was me.”

“What do you want?” She gripped the strap of her bag, white knuckled against the cold.

He dragged a hand through his hair, “I uh…I didn’t know how else to get your attention.”

Her blood sizzled, “My attention? Your group of neanderthal friends have been terrorizing me since first year!”

His face fell slightly, becoming more serious, “I know, and I apologize. It might not mean much, but I always fought against them. It never felt right…at least not when it came to you.”

She shook her head, pulling her scarf tighter. She’d have liked to say that his words were believable when hell froze over but well…here they were.

“We’ve never even been properly introduced, have we?” He smiled. His teeth were perfect.

“I’m Evan, Evan Rosier,” he held out his hand.

She stared at the gesture, then up at his face, taking in the sincerity of his expression. A light dusting of freckles covered the bridge of his nose; it reminded her vaguely of Remus. She tried to remember every time one of his friends had spat insults at her across the corridors, or thrown something at her in passing. To the best of her recollection, Evan had never actually been the aggressor. Maybe he was being genuine. She’d misjudged character in the past…look at what happened with Sirius.

She extended her hand apprehensively, watching as their palms touched. Evan smiled, lifting the back of her hand to kiss it softly.

———

February 14th, 1977

Valentines Day was always one of her favorite holidays. Though she’d never really had an actual Valentine (save for the chocolate Remus gave her every year that he swore wasn’t for any special occasion), she’d always enjoyed the electricity that bounced around the castle. The boys always went on and on about their hatred for the day, especially Remus, who would groan all through breakfast as love notes and hearts fluttered through the air, about how the holiday was “a marketing ploy to scam poor saps”. This year however, he kept the comments to himself, opting instead to raise his eyebrows skeptically as she was tossed a small red parcel from an unfamiliar owl.

“OOOO!” Mary screeched from down the bench, a veritable pile of sweets and cards in front of her, “Who’s it from?!”

She blushed, turning the little card over, “Evan…”

“Rosier?!” Sirius yelled across from her, bacon crumbs spilling from his mouth. Emmeline had been making herself scarce the past few weeks, the two of them fighting practically every time they were together. No one had complained, it ultimately was leading to a more normal breakfast routine.

She ignored Sirius, just as she had for the past nine or so months. Evan had approached her after their joint potions class a few weeks prior, and at first she thought it was some sick joke orchestrated by Regulus and his cronies. But he turned out to be quite sweet, and more of a gentleman than she had originally given him credit for. They’d hung out a few times, mostly just for walks around the grounds, and one date to Hogsmeade, where they’d sat at the Three Broomsticks and laughed over drinks. It felt nice to be wanted, especially by someone that she hadn’t been friends with since she was eleven.

The little gold card held Evan’s neat handwriting, asking if she’d meet him in the north courtyard tonight after dinner for a surprise date. No further details were given, just his signature: XX - Ev.

Her heart fluttered as she turned around to find him at the Slytherin table, sitting between Barty and Regulus. He smiled when their eyes met, a wry, seductive smirk that made her head pound, even more when he winked. When she turned back, Sirius and James were staring at her, the former making a dramatic show of pretending to vomit.

James shook his head slightly, “Be careful with that one.”

“You’re being unfair,” she snapped, opening the little parcel to reveal a box of Peppermint Toads, her favorite. She smiled, despite the four pairs of apprehensive eyes boring into her from all sides.

“He’s an arsehole,” James said sternly, “you’ve seen what those pricks do to people they deem ‘beneath’ them.”

She rolled her eyes, “Evan doesn’t act like that anymore.”

Remus didn’t lift his eyes from his plate as he spoke, “I saw him push a fourth year into the Black Lake a month ago.”

“Maybe they deserved it,” she said sharply, standing up quickly and gathering her things, “I wish you’d just be happy for me, and stop trying to scrutinize everything.”

“We’re not scrutinizing,” James exhaled, “we just…don’t want you to get hurt—“

“—especially by some slimy fuckin’ snake,” Sirius mumbled through a mouthful of food.

She’d had enough.

“I don’t need you to protect me, Potter! Worry about your own girlfriend!”

Lily’s head shot up from down the table, “Oi! Don’t bring me into this!”

“Sorry Lils,” she mumbled, turning to walk back to her common room, having had enough of her friends for the day.

Remus grabbed her wrist before she could leave, “Are you coming to study group later?”

She wrenched her arm from his grasp, “I’ll think about it.”

Without sparing any of them another glance, she stormed out of the Great Hall.

———

Evan was always on time, it was one of the things she liked most about him, the consideration he held for her. The courtyard was quiet as she walked through, save for the few couples cuddled up in romantic bliss. Evan was leaning against the far wall leading out towards the north exit. He looked so handsome in the golden light, like something out of a romance novel or one of those old Hollywood movies her mom loved. Upon her approach, he pushed off the stone and sauntered over, smiling brightly before offering his arm.

“Happy Valentines Day,” he spoke softly as she threaded an arm through his.

“Thank you for surprising me,” was the best she could muster. She was a little breathless at the thought of the date he had apparently planned. No one had ever done something like this for her before. It was exhilarating.

In his other hand, Evan extending a small bouquet of daisies. The blush that erupted on her cheeks was embarrassing, but she met his eyes nonetheless and thanked him again. They strode arm in arm through the north exit, toward the road that led to Hogsmeade.

“Where’re we going?” She smelled the daisies, still not believing how lucky she was to deserve such treatment.

Evan chuckled lightly, “It’s a surprise. You’ll love it, I promise.” He looked at her, and the sun setting in his eyes was so beautiful that she almost kissed him.

They meandered toward the town, passing the entrance to the north side of the Forbidden Forrest. Evan turned down the uneven path, deviating from the main road leading to Hogsmeade that they always took.

“The town’s that way,” she said, pointing towards the tops of the thatched buildings in the distance, “where are you going?”

Another one of his mega-watt smiles, all perfect teeth and cunning eyes, “Shortcut. We found it last year while exploring the grounds.”

When he clocked her hesitation, Evan leaned forward and placed a hand on her cheek, “I’ve got you, don’t worry, nothing in there will touch you.”

She didn’t get the chance to tell him that nothing in the forest scared her, because he quickly pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft, and gentle, and unhurried. It left her wanting so much more that it almost hurt when he pulled away.

With a small smile, he tugged her towards the edge of the forest, and she followed willingly and without reservations.

Evan led her along a roughly hewn path through the trees, the sounds of birds and creatures scurrying through the foliage nearby. At the sound of a particularly loud growl from the east, she grabbed his arm on instinct. He didn’t flinch, or even seem startled, he just wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders and held her close.

A small clearing opened to their right, surrounded by a thick cover of trees and climbing moss. Small dots of fireflies flew around the circle, dancing among the ferns and brush. It looked like something out of the fairytale books she read as a child, almost half expecting a fae prince to come and whisk her away. But then again, she had already gotten her magical realm, hadn’t she, there was no need to wish for another. She looked up at Evan, with his hair flecked gold by the fireflies, and wondered if he’d be a part of her happily ever after. Some piece of her hoped so.

“Evan,” she gasped in wonder, “this place is—“

“—perfect.” He was staring directly at her when she turned.

He loosened the arm around her shoulders, slowly lowering it to grasp her waist. She was putty in his hands as he kissed her again slowly, quickly gaining ferocity as she dragged a hand into his hair. This was going a little fast, and for a moment the overwhelming feeling of everything became too much. Though they’d been talking for weeks, her and Evan hadn’t so much as kissed before tonight. Did she want this?

Evan let out a groan as he backed her against a tree, claiming her mouth as she opened for him. The feeling of his lips trailing down her neck sent her into outer space.

Oh.

She definitely wanted this.

She was so distracted that the footsteps on the other side of the trees barely registered.

“—over here,” a voice said. Evan didn’t stop his ministrations, snaking a hand down to hike one of her legs over his hip.

The footsteps grew near, their presence finally clicking as she heard another person speak again, this time much closer.

“Evan—“ she breathed as he bit at a particularly sensitive part of her neck. He hummed in response, never ceasing.

“Someone’s here…I hear people…”

He didn’t respond, instead rolling his hips as she made eye contact with Barty across the clearing, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Well, well, well,” he crowed, prowling closer, hands in his pockets, “What do we have here?”

She felt Evan smile against her neck.

“Took you long enough,” he purred, kissing her jaw one last time before turning to look at his friends. Mulciber had joined them now, followed by Regulus. She locked eyes with the latter, the usual mixture of boredom and disgust evident on his face. Suddenly she felt too hot, too exposed, too embarrassed.

“I thought you said we were messing with my brother and his menagerie of losers,” Regulus drawled to Evan.

“We are,” he responded, “and what better way than to fuck with their little pet mudblood.”

The realization of what was happening hit her like a speeding train.

“Evan—“ her heart sank, finally seeing the cruelty ebb back into his eyes. It had been prevalent during their early time at Hogwarts, but he had gotten very good at hiding it to his advantage over the years apparently.

He looked down at her, pure predator in his gaze, “It’ll be over quicker if you don’t fight.”

“Go fuck yourself,” she spat, trying to wriggle past him, but he was stronger and slammed her back into the tree.

Barty pushed past Regulus and came to stand beside them. He towered over Evan, and she couldn’t help but shiver at his looming presence. She wouldn’t go down without a fight, even though the odds were very clearly not in her favor.

“Is this the only way girls will fuck you?” She tried to push through Evan again, looking at Barty’s cruel grin. He reached for her face in an effort to silence her, only to receive a hard bite to the hand.

“Fuckin’ bitch!” Barty pulled back, staring at the trickle of blood running down between his thumb and forefinger.

Evan grabbed her neck and squeezed, “You can make this easier or harder. Your choice, sweetheart.”

She whimpered, legs giving out as Barty begin groping her thigh with a hand so harsh she could feel the bruises forming already.

When she was six, her dad hit a deer with the family car. As a child, she could never understand why the animal froze as it did, coming to a halt in the center of the street as the headlights barreled towards it, promising certain death. Her mind could never wrap around that level of primal fear.

She understood now.

Her brain screamed at her to fight, and she knew that she should. But her body was in full arrest, rooting her to the spot. As she stood in the forest, the bark from the tree cutting into her back, she stared wide-eyed at the oncoming crash, hoping that it would end as quickly as the deer from her childhood.

Evan began to kiss her again, only this time it was aggressive and sloppy, and she tried to pull her face away.

She heard footsteps again. Felt a third person restrain her arms. The fireflies were gone now, leaving her alone with the four creatures that had scared them away.

She closed her eyes and began to recite the lyrics to her favorite songs, pretending she was back with her friends, safely lounging in Gryffindor Tower.

———

Valentine’s Day was for suckers. Everybody knew that. At least Sirius thought so anyway.

Being surrounded by grandiose displays of romantic love was nauseating to put it lightly, and by the time dinner rolled around, he’d had quite enough of it.

James had scampered off somewhere with Lily (gag), Mary was probably snogging her current boyfriend by now (double gag), and Pete was drooling over some poor Ravenclaw girl from the year below them (triple gag). Even Moony had left him, but at least it was just for a study session in the library, and not for some dumb date. He’d blown Emmeline off earlier when she asked what he had planned for Valentines Day. Apparently she didn’t share his sentiments about the bullshit holiday, leading to a tearful display on her part.

Sirius had resigned himself to the quidditch pitch, deciding that fresh air would do him some good after enduring the suffocating fumes of romance all day. He flew around the goal posts, the only person practicing tonight, the vast majority of the students paired up for the holiday, or sulking alone in their rooms. Looping down closer to the field, he leaned forward to pick up speed, pulling up as he got towards the opposite end and soaring as high as he could before the clouds overtook the view. It was quiet up here, and for the briefest moment, he felt the noise in his head stop.

As he descended to do another lap, he saw a small figure running from the north road leading from Hogsmeade. Students snuck off to town all the time, so it was wasn’t that bizarre, but the urgency is what caught his attention. Sirius returned closer to the ground, just as the figure entered the field and stopped to double over, hands on his knees.

It was Regulus.

“Sirius!” His voice was a strangled, out of breath from however far he had just sprinted.

Sirius landed with a thud, grimacing at his younger brother.

“What do you want Reg,” he growled.

His brother took a few heaving breaths, “…the forest…Evan and Barty…Mulciber…they’re going to hurt her…”

Sirius didn’t think. Didn’t even consider his broom left lying on the field.

He just began to run.

Though winded from the first sprint, Regulus kept pace with his brother, the two of them only speaking once when Sirius demanded to be shown the way. At the entrance to the forest, Regulus skidded to a stop.

“I said I was going back to the common room because I was bored. They can’t know I’m the one that told you, they’ll—“

Sirius nodded once, not needing an explanation, “Thank you, Reggie.” The sincerity in his voice was legitimate as he met his younger brother’s eyes, identical to his own.

He didn’t look back as he raced into the forest.

———

The laughter is what would haunt her.

While they stripped her and ran their hands over every inch of skin, they had laughed. Enjoying her whimpers as they called her names and threatened to do even worse things. She couldn’t think of what could be worse than this, worse than losing your humanity. Though she wanted to desperately, she didn’t cry.

At least she didn’t give them that satisfaction.

Brush crunched from a few feet away, and she prayed it was some sort of creature come to devour them all. There was a sickening crack, and suddenly the pressure of the body on her left was gone. She opened her eyes slowly, and watched as Sirius brought his fist into Evan Rosier’s nose.

Barty was already on the ground, bleeding from his mouth, Mulciber was darting through the trees like a coward. As Evan stumbled back against a boulder, Sirius pulled out his wand and held it straight towards him.

“Leave. Now. Or I will kill you all where you fucking stand.”

His tone made her legs begin to shake; she’d never heard him speak like that.

Barty got to his feet, still cradling his jaw, and shot a glance over at his friend who was staring at Sirius with pure malice.

“You have one chance,” Sirius’ voice was so icy and calm it scared her.

Evan pushed off the rock and moved towards the opening of the clearing, Barty following suit. All while Sirius kept his wand fixed on the pair of them.

“You’ll pay for this, Black,” Evan snarled.

“I’d like to see you fucking try,” a muscle in Sirius’ jaw twitched.

The moment the two were out of sight, she broke.

She fell to her knees as both legs buckled, realizing quickly that her shirt was completely torn away, leaving only her skirt in place. Doubling over, she hugged her body tightly, the cold ground seeping into her bare legs. Everything was spinning. Her entire body becoming numb as she squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to disappear. Instinct was nagging her to move, to run as fast as she could back to the castle, back to safety, but she couldn’t bring herself to rise. Distantly through the fog, she heard her name being called.

Sirius knelt, shushing her calmly as he pulled off his red and gold striped quidditch jumper. “Hey…” he soothed, careful not to touch her, “look at me Yellowjacket.”

She looked up slowly, shivering against the chill permeating through her bones.

“I’m going to put this on you, is that okay?” His eyes were glued to hers as he held up the jumper.

She nodded, allowing him to pull the wool garment over her head and arms. It was warm, and a few sizes too large, but it smelled like home. The realization of his presence hit her fully, and she let out a heartbreaking sob.

Sirius instantly gathered her in his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into her hair, voice breaking, “I’m so sorry, love.”

They knelt on the forest floor for a while, Sirius rocking her as she clung to his t-shirt.

As her sobs eased, Sirius tilted her head back, “Let’s get you back to the castle, alright little bee?” He offered a small smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. She nodded, eyes bloodshot and hollow, allowing him to help her up. When he deemed her stable enough to walk, Sirius loosened his grip, not wanting to overstep. She didn’t let go, gripping his hand like it was the only tether keeping her moored.

They walked back to the castle, hand in hand, her donning his jumper. And to any outsider, they looked like a couple, returning from a Valentines Day date.

———

Sirius brought her to Gryffindor Tower, assuring her that the other boys weren’t around. The majority of her fear had dissipated, leaving just shame in its wake. She hadn’t spoken a word since they left the forest, just nodding her head numbly whenever Sirius asked her a question.

Standing in the dormitory entrance, she motioned towards Sirius’ bed, “Is it okay if I sit down?”

Her voice sounded distant and small. The rasp was more embarrassing, evidence of her unruly sobbing.

Sirius shut the door, his face falling when he heard her question.

“You’ve never needed nor asked for permission before, please don’t start now…”

He walked over to the window and opened it wide, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lighting one with the snap of his fingers. Leaning against Remus’ bedpost, he blew a stream of smoke out into the night.

She looked around the room, between the empty beds of her best friends, “They won’t be back for a while, right?”

Sirius nodded, his face solemn and contemplative as he watched her sit uncomfortably on the edge of his mattress. He held out the cigarette towards her in a silent offering.

She nodded slowly, joining him to lean out the open window. The cold air washed over her, and despite everything that happened, the night was unfortunately beautiful.

Sirius handed her the cigarette and she took a drag, the smoke curling around her fingertips.

“D’you wanna talk about it?” He asked quietly, scooting closer to her against the ledge.

She lingered on the question for a moment, passing the cigarette back. The warmth of his fingers was enough to give her the strength to speak.

“…it was all a joke,” she whispered, staring out over the now indecipherable forest.

“What was?” Sirius exhaled out into the night, eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“Everything, all of it. The dates, the notes, the…attention,” she shook her head in disbelief, tears blurring the view of the castle grounds, “…I was so stupid.”

Sirius held the cigarette closer and she leaned in to take another drag from between his fingers.

“You’re not stupid,” he whispered, “you’re incredible.”

The corner of her mouth quirked upward as her head rested gently against his shoulder. Sirius passed the rest of the cigarette to her to finish, and afterwards she tossed it out the window, watching as the embers ricocheted off the stone turret on its way down.

“I should probably go back to my room,” she said quietly, playing with the sleeve of the jumper.

Sirius shook his head adamantly, “Stay here, there’s no way I’m letting you be alone tonight.”

The offer caused her to tear up again, “I can’t—I don’t have any clothes or—“

“Here,” he went and dug through his trunk, pulling out a pair of red and gold pajama pants, no doubt a gift from Mrs. Potter from Christmas’ past, “Keep the jumper, it looks better on you anyway. Whatever you need, I’ve got it, just please…stay here tonight.”

After showering and changing in the shared bathroom, she climbed into Sirius’ bed, burying herself beneath the covers. The boys clearly didn’t keep their room as warm as she did.

Sirius slid in beside her, closing the curtains tight and throwing up a simple warding spell.

“Please don’t tell the others,” she whispered as they stared at each other in the dark. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, like it was calling to her.

“Of course, anything you want,” he said, brushing back a stray piece of her hair.

“I’m still angry at you,” she grinned slightly, shifting closer towards him, if only for the fact that she was freezing.

Sirius chuckled lowly, opening his arm to allow her in, “You can be angry as long as you want, love, just please don’t shut me out again.”

———

She woke up to James’ singing.

For a second, she couldn’t remember where she was, or what events had led her here. After a brief reprieve, the memories of the night prior came flooding back. The scent of smoke and spice provoking the realization that her face was currently buried against Sirius’ chest. He stirred, arm wrapped protectively around her waist.

She hated how right this felt.

But what she hated even more, was how she pretended to still be asleep, so that they could stay this way a little longer.

Beyond the bed curtains, she listened to James moving about the room, still singing some Beatles song that Lily had no doubt shown him. Somewhere on the right side of the room, Remus groaned, “Prongs, I swear to everything holy, if you don’t shut the fuck up I will murder you with my bare hands.”

James laughed, “Wake up then, Moony! You’ll miss breakfast, and Merlin knows how you get when you don’t eat—ow!”

Remus must have thrown something at him, a soft thud echoing a millisecond later. Sirius began to trail his fingers up her back, and she leaned up to see him smiling, eyes still shut.

“Morning,” he rasped, completely content with their proximity.

“Pads!” James called from just outside the curtains, and she stiffened.

Sirius didn’t remove his arm from her waist as he called back, “Yes, Potter?”

“Breakfast?”

“Got a little pissed last night, mate. Think I’m going to bunk off this morning.”

James hummed, “Suit yourself, then.”

She listened as he and (presumably) Peter left the dorm.

Remus’ voice grew closer to the bed, “Did you seriously get drunk in here alone last night? That’s a new low, even for you, Pads.”

She watched as the curtains jostled, remembering the warding spell Sirius had cast last night.

“Oi! What’re you doing?” Remus called suspiciously, finding the bed curtains unable to open.

Sirius groaned, “I’m fucking trying to sleep Moony, that’s what I’m doing, but the lot of you keep trying to disturb that!”

“Christ, mate, sorry. I’ll see you this afternoon then, yeah?” She heard him walk towards the other side of the room.

“Yeah, sure,” Sirius called, closing his eyes again and settling back against her as the door shut.

“Are you really not going to class this morning?” She murmured.

He huffed into her hair, “I’m not leaving this bed until at least noon.”

“They’ll notice I’m not at breakfast.”

Sirius hummed contently, “We can think of a lie when we wake up, Yellowjacket.”

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1ovede1uxe · 9 months

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What "Unusual" pet would the Jobros have?

Anime only, I've had no time to read. Also some fun facts about some of these pets!

I am by no means an expert on any of these animals, so if I'm incorrect in my info, please lmk! :)

Speedwagon definitely has a giant flemish rabbit. The vibes just match up entirely. Almost like a dog, but not really. Just a positive vibe to have around. He takes it on walks (without a leash because they're so loyal to each other) and if Danny were still around they would play together!

Giant flemish rabbits are rabbits that are "dog-sized (about 20 lbs)." There are seven recognized fur colors/patterns: black, blue, fawn, light gray, steel gray, sandy, and white. These gentle giants are docile and can be litterbox trained, so they've become a popular breed of housepet.

Caesar would absolutely have a chinchilla and spoil the crap out of it. Since chinchillas are very sociable, its hours of entertainment for both parties, and can both can be sassy (from what I've seen, but chinchillas might just be curious critters, chewing on wires and such). The chinchilla would sleep on Caesar’s chest or in his hair :)

Under proper care, these soft and social critters can live to be 20 years old! Being sociable, they like to communicate and make 10 different sounds for different needs and expressions

Kakyoin would have a snake, but not just any snake, but an albino California kingsnake! The vibes matched very much. When he can, he would totally spoil his baby. Only the finest rodents to eat for his snake or the coolest new cave and the most high-tech heat lamp. This boy would play with her for hours at a time. Even if they're not playing, he lets her rest on his shoulders while he draws.

These white danger noodles can grow 3-5 ft in length and are overall docile creatures. When they're young they can be quite defensive!

Okuyasu definitely has a pet tortoise he promptly named Mr. Turtle. Mr. Turtle loves Okuyasu so much and is quite fond of Josuke, walking up to them every time they get back home. I was thinking of Crab Man and his Mr. Turtle from 'My Name is Earl' while writing this.

Tortoises are turtles, but turtles are not tortoises (so the name is accurate I suppose)! Tortoises can live in all climates and the current weather in their egg determines their sex.

Bucci gang has a tropical fish tank that every single one of them picked out one fish. They spoil the hell out of the fish, as much as one really can when your pets are fish. Narancia chose to adopt the snail in the tank too. Live plants, castles to swim in, these fish have it all.

Foo Fighters would absolutely have a Mudskipper! These cute little tadpoles with legs are so damn adorable. Ermes and Jolyne really end up taking care of it at the end of the day, but Foo loves her mudskipper!

Mudskippers often live in burrows in intertidal habitats. They can also breathe through their skin!

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nightghoul381 · 9 months

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To My Dearest Love~ Yves Kloss x Reader

Over halfway through the challenge, thank you @aquagirl1978 and @violettduchess for hosting!

Prompt: 8. Postcards Pairing: Yves Kloss x Reader Genre: Angst Warning: Implied Death of Reader

Pictured: A dazzling arrangement of roses

May 14th

My dearest love,

I saw the first bloom this morning as I was looking out to the gardens. The sunlight was just peeking over the horizon, you would have told me how much the golden hue of the sky reminded you of my hair. I wish you could have been there with me. It means nothing, I know it means nothing and yet I still feel compelled to write this postcard. I know you’ll never read it. I don’t even know why I’m doing this. But for whatever reason it makes it seem less lonely.

Forever Yours,

Yves Kloss

Pictured: The night sky over crashing waves

July 10th

My dearest love,

I accompanied Nokto on a business venture in Benitoite and I needed to tell you about it. The coast is so lovely. Not nearly as lovely as you, of course, but I can imagine the sparkle in your eye that you would have, taking in the sandy shore and ultramarine waters. It makes my heart ache to know that we will never get a chance to experience this together. I must admit, I was hoping that by now the pain would have eased a bit. Yet, it seems to continue to reawaken, ebbing and flowing like the tides. You would have wanted to feel the water, to walk along the beach. That is precisely why I couldn’t. I did try, but my breath would catch each time and I just… I just couldn’t. Anyways, enough dire talk. I do miss you and I know you would have loved to visit Benitoite.

Forever Yours,

Yves Kloss

Pictured: Windswept Plains

August 21st

My dearest love,

I visited the Jadean capital and had tea with Prince Keith. It was pleasant, the air was warm and the scent of flowers filled the air. It smelled like you. That night, I had a dream that everything had gone back to how it was. It felt so real. I could feel the warmth of your body as we held each other. Waking up was such a difficult thing to accept. I longed to spend even another minute in that dream with you. That’s all I have left. Memories and dreams. I return to Rhodolite castle tomorrow. I almost dread returning to those familiar halls knowing I’ll never again see you running down them to greet me. My, I really have let my dour mood influence this card. I love you, I will love you until the end of time.

Forever Yours,

Yves Kloss

Pictured: White roses amongst green leaves

September 17th

My dearest love,

The summer has come to an end. Yesterday my brothers forced a surprise party on me. I had no intention of celebrating my birthday. Without you, I can’t seem to find anything to celebrate anymore. If only birthday wishes could come true. I’d wish for you to be back in my arms. I’d wish to see the smile on your face that greeted me each morning. This will be the last postcard I send. My brothers are concerned with me continuing to write to you as though you’re still here, so it’s time I move forward. I know this, yet it is still so painful to say goodbye. My heart will always belong to you. I will never know a more wonderful person; none could possibly compete. Know that my love for you will remain eternal. You have me, all of me, forever. You are always on my mind. We shall meet again someday, I promise.

Until I find you again,

Yves Kloss

Akatsuki swallowed thickly as he crouched over the tombstone, placing the stack of postcards in a small divot he had dug along the side.

“It’s good to know that you were so loved.” He murmured, scooping the displaced dirt over your lover’s words. “I don’t think that boy realized that I would read the postcards he had sent to the bookstore, but he clearly thought the world of you. I’m glad you were able to experience such a deep love during your time on this Earth.”

Rising to his feet, he gave one final statement, “Rest well, dear one.”

#summer days sultry nights ccc #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen prince fanfiction #ikemen prince yves #ikepri yves #yves kloss

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persephonescottage · 2 years

Text

PONY | 20.

Pairing: Billy RussoxFem!Reader

Summary: Henry is handsy and Billy is crafty.

Warning: References to sexual situations, swearing, obsessive thoughts. Although this chapter might not include it, this fic will include stalking, somnophilia, CNC (between two consenting adults), knife play, age gap, dub con, Stockholm syndrome, gaslighting and other triggers I will include as we go along, please only read if you’re 18+. If any of this warnings trigger you please don’t read.

A/N: Here we areeeee, I wrote this on my phone so I apologize for grammar and whatnot. I thank you all for your kind messages and comments I laugh a lot reading them I really do!!! And thank you for being so patient💕 Here is a map of the library which might be helpful if you want to visualize it for this chapter and the next or ignore it if you don’t care lol ok thnx🧁

From the moment the first message got to your phone it was mayhem and you remembered in a blur how you tripped on air trying to get from the basement to the floor of the gala in Astor Hall.

The goosebumps taking over your body as the classical music became louder and louder the faster you ran through the emergency stairs struggling to lift the loud taffeta of your dress that made sounds as of sea waves holding you back.

When you finally opened the heavy door to the first floor the blinding lights of the party hit your face, everything was perfect, just like in all the vision boards in all the meetings you had with your bosses and the rest of the team and you could help but smile and twirl in your own place, the tulle around you following the magical moment, scratching your thighs.

The larger than life chandelier donated for the night by an aristocrat friend of the Dumas’ family hung from the cherub painted ceiling just like you were sure Gaston Leroux envisioned the night Erick took Christine to be his angel of music.

Would this be the night Blackbird took you?

A girl could only hope.

But the million lights reflected in the glass of the crystal ornaments made the place look whimsical, the library looked like an enchanted castle, and you, to be honest, looked like a princess.

BIRDY: You look beautiful.

BIRDY: I knew your tits would look amazing in that.

The messages made your phone vibrate in your hand and the anxiety kicked in again. Looking around you desperately in the multitude of people you tried to focus, the place was packed.

Mrs. Baker had told you at the beginning of the week the theme had attracted a crowd and the event was sold out, but with half the guests in masks and gowns and the dim lights and the twinkling of the reflections of the crystal it was hard to look for the small details you knew of your mysterious lover.

He had to be close though.

Close enough to check out your tits, you think.

“Well hello Christine!”

Henry’s cheery voice is behind you and you feel his strong hand on your lower back. You have a sweet smile for him before you even turn.

“You look amazing!” He says hugging you quickly.

He’s wearing a burgundy suit and a white phantom half mask, as most of the men in the building are, but his sandy blond hair gives him away, his boyish half smile is way too charming for him to be Erick.

He’d be a great Raoul, you’re sure.

“Thank you! Where’s your dad?”

“Talking business to someone far away from me, as I’d like to keep him. Let’s get you that drink!”

You smile and nod, allowing him to escort you to the bar near the dance floor but you try your best to not look distracted as your eyes scan the room in anguish, he could be anyone here, just waiting for you, and with Henry’s hand so close to your bare skin, this night could be a bloodbath waiting to happen.

🤍

Billy saw his knuckles turn white around the gold rimmed whiskey glass on his hand. He has standing near the ledge, on the balcony of the second floor admiring the gala that as most of the staff had told him was only possible thanks to his very generous donation.

Everything was just as he requested.

The lighting was dim, the decoration was dark and elegant and he had full access to one of the reading rooms for the night and instructions to not be disturbed.

Incredible what government workers will do for a check.

And you, you looked beautiful, just like he knew you would, you were a star. A delicious spoonful of honey in the dullness of the Manhattan socialite, and you were smiling, but not for him.

What was that waste of a trust fund doing with his filthy hands on you?

He saw Henry Dumas say something in your ear, surely because of the loudness of the people and the music and not because it was something secretive, not because you were his accomplice on anything, but it still made Billy’s blood boil, and then you laughed.

He rolled his eyes.

What could possibly be so funny?

He drank the last of the amber liquor before he could crack the glass. Henry Dumas was the emblem of entitlement and Billy didn’t understand how you couldn't see it, how you wouldn’t see past that hoax of a smile and innocent blue gaze.

Ridiculous.

He wanted nothing more than to get you in his bed and then he’d forget all about you, the working class smoking hot librarian he met in one of his daddy’s charities, the nice guy façade was all an act, a mating dance for him.

And if he put his hand an inch lower on your back Billy was gonna put it in a bloody box sent to Daddy Dumas’ doorstep asap.

Fingers might be sent separate.

“Mr. Russo? I’m sorry to bother you sir.”

Billy woke to Gianna’s voice on his left shoulder and almost laughed. When professional, the girl was almost quiet and mousy, delicate. If she only knew that he had listened to her talk about despicable things with her best friend, maybe she wouldn’t be so formal, or maybe the blushing on her cheeks would be more intense.

“They are ready for your speech, are you ready?” She finished clearing her throat “I can always tell them to wait if you need more time-“

“I’m ready Miss Esposito. I’ll be downstairs in five minutes.”

Gianna smiled and turned her back to him, almost relieved to be dismissed, to be rid of her responsibility to be near him for the rest of the night and Billy knew it. She wanted to be with her friend.

And so did he.

He took the phone on the inside pocket of his jacket and texted one last thing before letting Frank and Maria know he was heading downstairs. Was this the beginning of the end? The beginning of forever?

The keys to the reading room jingled in his pants pocket as he adjusted the black matte half mask on his face hearing Gianna’s voice on the mic introducing the honored man of the gala and his name was followed by the cheering and the clapping.

Then the lights on him, the sea of people, the crowd.

And finally, just his Pony, in the middle of the dance floor.

With Henry Dumas by her side.

🤍

You check the message on your screen as everyone cheers for the guest of honor walking onto the stage. The lights were dim to begin with and now the room is almost in complete darkness with the only spotlight on one of the most talked about men in New York.

You vaguely asked Gianna about him as you both did you makeup under the fluorescent lights of the basement bathroom earlier, and you only did it to keep the conversation going, to get your thoughts in check, but the only important points she offered you were rich, hot and dangerous.

Of course this city was in love with him.

BIRDY: Does that boy have a death wish? Can I borrow the pretty ribbon on your hair to make ornaments with his fingers if he keeps touching you like that?

YOU: No you can’t make decorations out of body parts you’ll scare the children.

You look around high strung waiting for the sound of your reply coming from a device around you that reveals his identity, but nothing comes. Mr. Russo’s words are the only sound present in the room, accompanied by the discrete occasional clinking of ice on glasses and high heels on marble, his voice sounds warped in your brain.

All you do is obsessively inspect the room, as much as the darkness allows you, men by men, discarding by height, by hair color, by shape. He had to be around, close enough to know Henry was touching your waist again.

“Are you okay?” He whispered to you “You seem nervous.”

“Fine.” You whisper back quickly trying to not interrupt the man on stage that doesn’t seem to be finishing any time soon.

“Do you need some air? We can go outside if you want to-“

“Hey kid!”

You’re very close to snapping, and you’re glad someone interrupts you. It’s not Henry’s fault you’re on edge but if he asked you if you were fine one more time you were sure you would throw your drink at his face.

Blackbird would sure love that, you think, rolling your eyes internally.

Taking your attention back to the gigantic man who approached you and your company you smile politely at Frank Castle, he’s next to a gorgeous brunette who you assume is his wife and she flashes you the warmest smile.

“Maria this is the librarian we told you about remember? That we had that odd case? This is my wife Maria.” He introduces you politely in a low voice half looking at you, half looking at his boss on stage. “How’ve you been kid? That psycho still giving you trouble?”

Not since I let him eat me out, you want to say, but you just shrug pretending you want to stay quiet to respect the man giving the speech and nod in greeting to his wife with a quick wave.

“Oh so this is the girl Bill has a crush on!” She smiles back before taking her champagne cup back to her lips. “You’re cute honey, I approve!”

“I’m sorry?” Your gaze is back to Frank now and he looks flustered.

If this man wasn’t over six feet tall you would think he’s the child that got caught with his hand in the cookie jar and you raise your brow waiting for answers.

Bill?

As in Billy Russo?

“Excuse my wife kid, we don’t go out much cause of the kids and she’s a little tipsy.” He says ogling Maria.

“Oops, must have gotten the wrong girl then.”

You can hear her giggles echoing inside the crystal of her glass and you know she being sarcastic and regrets nothing but you decide to spare Frank the embarrassment and play along.

“That’s ok.”

But everything is so dense in the room now.

It’s suddenly hot and heavy and you feel Henry’s arm back in your shoulder and you finally pay attention to him up there. A full black velvet tux, satin lapels, black shirt.

There’s a squared obsidian ring on his right hand finger, it looks heavy and cold and you look up to see the half mask he wears. It’s black and matte unlike everybody else’s, it almost looks like it’s made of graphite and it’s held back by black satin ribbon tight on his head of dark hair.

The height is right, the built is right.

“When ANVIL became so successful in such a short amount of time people congratulated me, they said I was a mogul, a genius but I only worked harder. I didn’t want them to think it was beginners luck.”

You finally hear him talk and his voice brings chills to your body. It’s numbing, suddenly your fingers are cold and your body responds to familiarity with hot flashes and perspiration.

From this angle you can see it perfectly.

The scar down on his neck.

“I didn’t want them to think that I was a one trick pony.” He finishes with his eyes on you.

Fuck.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #pony fic #stalker!billy #my writting #justice for henry #i do feel bad for henry #But i liked this

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