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sansaorgana · 1 month

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— THROWN TO THE WOLVES (IX)

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE PART FOUR || PART FIVE || PART SIX PART SEVEN || PART EIGHT || PART TEN

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader // Atreides!OC

SUMMARY — Feyd-Rautha focuses on bringing back the spice production to full efficency while his wife plots against The Baron. The ghosts of her past are haunting her in the Arrakeen Palace where her family lived and died.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written as an usual x Reader fic without describing anything about the Reader’s looks but I still classified it as an OC as well since she is Paul Atreides’ half-sister. This chapter is quite long so I think the next one will be the last...? Of course I am open to write some additional chapters with these characters in the future 👀 Thank you everyone supporting my work 🙏🏻😭 I don't know when I'll post the next / last chapter. Next week I hope but it might take me more time than usual because I have to catch up with uni work finally lol

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, mentions of sexual activities (no actual smut), violent behaviour, death

WORD COUNT — 8,170

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THROWN TO THE WOLVES (IX)

Feyd-Rautha was barely able to hide his excitement on that day. Becoming the Governor of Arrakis was a huge deal – not only it proved that he was his uncle’s worthy successor if he was given such responsibility, but also Arrakis remained the most important planet under the Harkonnen rule due to the spice resources. Controlling this planet was like controlling the universe.

Before the official ceremony would begin, he had to deal with the formalities, all dressed up in the accurate black leather attire and pride on his face. Then his wife entered the throne room accompanied by the guards and from that moment he could only focus on her.

Her black leather dress’ design was mimicking his uniform’s one and her face was hidden by the veil made of chains and gemstones. She walked past him and bowed down in front of his uncle. Feyd knew that was the custom but it still made him clench his jaw and blood boil.

She straightened herself and fixed her dress on her abdomen as it was getting too tight in that area. Feyd smirked at the sight of her womb getting visibly swollen with his child. With his heir.

His wife signed the contract about him becoming the new Governor of Arrakis as the Atreides signet ring sparkled on her pinky finger. The truth was, her signature was not required there at all but the Baron loved to humiliate her in this way. However, she managed to do it with such dignity. Feyd wondered if she still felt like an Atreides. That signet ring wasn’t leaving her pinky finger at all ever since it had been adjusted to her size.

He wondered if it was a symbol of power for her or did she keep it for sentimental reasons.

Sentiment. That word was new in Feyd-Rautha’s dictionary. But now, when he watched his wife standing behind him with her hands clasped on her womb, he swore he could feel it.

He couldn’t explain most of the things happening inside his body at the sight of her. It was more than plain desire or sexual attraction. In fact, he had had lovers more adventurous than her and surely more experienced. But he had never met a woman like that.

She made him think of his mother, especially now, when she was expecting his child. He wondered what kind of mother she would be. Would she… love… his son? Or would he be another pawn in her court games…?

His mother was cold and distant but only recently Feyd had realised it was no reason to kill her. Was it possible that some part of him regretted it? His uncle had manipulated him into doing something he couldn’t truly understand back in the day – an act impossible to undo and sealing his murderous fate.

But even his mother had never touched him so gently like his wife. And he knew that it was weak to crave that but he did – he craved more from her and her only. He would kill anyone looking at her the wrong way but she could disrespect him in any way and he’d still be on his knees for her. He had never been as obedient to his uncle. He had feared him as a little boy and then he had hated him, waiting for his turn on the Harkonnen throne. The obedience to his wife was dictated by admiration and… sentiment.

Yes, that was a new word in his dictionary.

And his harpies… Well, he had been attached to them but killing them had felt cold – he hadn't even felt sorry.

The room slowly filled with people who were to witness his nomination for the Governor of Arrakis. Feyd stood proudly and already imagined the day he would be nominated The Baron Harkonnen.

And when his uncle officially named him the Governor, Feyd grabbed his face and brought it down for an angry kiss that was a mockery of gratitude. In that kiss there was a promise of the upcoming succession of the much more important title. In that kiss there was the Harkonnen poison and everyone cheered but the Baron knew.

He knew.

You were laying on your bed on the ship inside your cabin and playing with the Atreides signet ring on your pinky finger. It felt surreal to realise that under different circumstances you would had made the same journey a few months earlier with your family when your father had been gifted Arrakis.

Your stream of thoughts was interrupted abruptly by Feyd walking inside the cabin.

“Apparently, Rabban has no idea we are coming,” he announced with a smirk and sat on the bed next to you, waiting for your approval like a little boy after telling his mother exciting news.

“Why do you hate him so?” You only asked and his smirk dropped in an instant. “Is he not your brother?”

“Do you love yours?” Feyd tilted his head a little as he watched you carefully.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you smiled sadly at him and caressed your bump. “He is dead and so is his older sister. But in that relationship, I was Rabban and Paul was you.”

“I am better than Rabban. He means nothing,” Feyd shrugged his arms, visibly annoyed at the fact that you scolded him and started asking questions instead of sharing his excitement.

“Do you think you will catch a tan on Arrakis?” You changed the subject and chuckled at the confused glance he gave you.

“I’m not going there for vacation,” he moved closer to you on the bed and placed his hand on your womb. You felt its warmth spreading all over your body. “And neither are you,” he reminded you.

“I know.”

“The medic says that the Arrakis might do you good. The sun and all,” Feyd explained, a bit awkwardly.

“Yes, I know. But it is also not a very pleasant environment. It is hot and dry,” you sighed. “And full of spice.”

“You will have everything you want and need there, my Baroness,” Feyd leaned in to suck on your neck – his idea of a romantic kiss. You leaned back and sighed at the pleasure.

“How big do you think he is now?” You caressed your husband’s hand gently and he moved away from the crook of your neck to look into your eyes. “Our son. Do you think he is still smaller than your hand?” You bit on your lower lip. “I like to imagine him so little that your hand covers him whole when you place it on my womb.”

“Do you think of him often?” Feyd asked and you furrowed your brows at his question.

“Of our son?” You wanted to make sure and he nodded. “All the time,” you answered with all honesty. “And you…?” You asked, carefully.

“All the time,” Feyd nodded and looked down at his hand caressing your bump.

“And what do you think?” You were scared to know the answer but you needed to know it.

“I’m proud to have a son. He will be the Baron one day and I will train his body to become even stronger than mine. And you will train his mind to be sharp like yours,” Feyd looked at you. He was serious but you chuckled at that as you caressed his cheek with your thumb.

“Just promise me that you won’t do to him what has been done to you,” you whispered as the smile disappeared from your face. “Please,” you pleaded.

“It has to be done,” was all he said as his jaw clenched.

“No, it doesn’t,” you shook your head. You could feel the tears forming in your eyes. Thinking of what your husband had gone through was painful enough but imagining your son going through the same thing was even worse.

“How else do you want him to be a great warrior?” Feyd laughed at you. “He will need discipline.”

“Discipline does not have to mean abuse. I want him to follow your steps out of admiration and respect. Do you want your own son to feel the same way towards you that you feel towards your uncle?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you want your son to plot how to get rid of you? To wait impatiently for you to finally die and rot?”

“No, I do not,” he admitted after a short while of hesitation.

“Then we will do it my way,” you stated.

“I don’t want my children to be weaklings,” Feyd drawled as his hand squeezed your womb possessively.

“Neither do I,” you assured him. “And it insults me greatly that you think that I would raise them to be weak. I hate weakness,” you gave him a stern look.

“There’s your answer why I hate my brother,” he said and moved down to lay his head on your womb. You carefully caressed his temples in a soothing manner.

You still had to play little games with him sometimes, you assumed it would always be like this one way or another. But you loved him. Yes, you loved him.

Princess Atreides would rather die than admit that. For the Harkonnen na-baroness it was difficult to admit her feelings, too. But you didn’t mind giving up and finally allowing yourself to confess the truth. It was making you feel less lonely in the world. Perhaps it was love dictated by the fact you had no one else around. Perhaps you loved the way he worshipped you. Perhaps you loved him for the way he was making you feel so powerful and important. But at the end of the day, it was love. Not that you planned to say it out loud.

It was true that you hated weakness but Feyd-Rautha was yours. If he was to die, you’d die, too. You had no home to go to, no family member to turn to. All you had was him. Him and the dream of the life you two were supposed to live one day.

You knew that the black colour was a bad choice for the planet like Arrakis. But you couldn’t imagine wearing anything else. As a Harkonnen you had to establish dominance in your House’s way. Your arrival dress had to be black and made of a flowy material with a semi-transparent veil to protect your skin from the hot rays of sunshine and the wind full of harsh sand and spice.

The very first step you took outside the ship nearly made you dizzy. It felt so odd after so many months to feel the sunlight on your skin and to see the colours while not being inside any building – even if the colours of Arrakis were not many.

“My Lady,” Astra and Cara followed you outside, both widening their big, black Harkonnen eyes at the sight of the desert, “are you alright?”

“Yes, my girls, I am,” you held their hands.

“Let’s go inside, na-baroness,” the medic joined you. “At this time of the day it is recommended not to go out,” he explained and you nodded before following him with your girls, guards and all the servants carrying your things. Feyd was already inside the palace with his uncle and dealing with an embarrassed and humiliated Rabban.

You looked up through your veil and examined the sight of the building in front of you. It was not much cosier than the Harkonnen fortress on Giedi Prime. On the inside the design was raw as well, but some part of you was already used to such an environment.

“My Lady,” one of the servants approached you. He had already been living there for quite some time now as he had come to Arrakis with Count Rabban. “Shall we prepare the rooms for you and na-baron or will you take the room that belonged to the previous Duke? Count Rabban did not take it, therefore we left it untouched,” he informed you and you froze for a second.

“My father’s room? It is left untouched?” You gasped.

“Yes, my Lady na-baroness, Duchess Atreides,” the man was bowing down so low you became concerned about his spine.

“Enough of the titles, take me there,” you ordered and then you turned around at your servants. “Wait here. I will let you know what room I am taking.”

“My Lady,” they all nodded as you followed the man alone. You didn’t want even Astra and Cara around you because you couldn’t tell what your reaction to your father’s chambers would be.

“Behind that door, na-baroness,” the servant bowed down and pointed at the doors. You pushed them and let them close behind you as your body trembled at the sight. You lifted the veil off of your face and looked around.

The room was arranged in a similar way as your father’s chamber back on Caladan. Duke Leto hated any form of mess and he had everything always put in its place. You wandered around and touched all the personal belongings – his chair, his desk… You froze at the sight of the pictures he had there. One picture was of him and Lady Jessica, the other one was of you and Paul. There was even a tiny picture from his wedding day with your mother. You remembered that picture very well as you had once asked him about it. He had told you he kept it out of respect for her and for you.

You had no idea he would still keep it even if you weren’t around.

You opened the desk. Someone had been rummaging inside – most likely to take the jewellery and the important documents. But the personal letters stayed. Personal letters and… a small doll.

You had given it to him at the age of four and asked him to take care of it. You didn’t expect he had been keeping it all these years.

“Oh, father…” you whispered and brought the doll close to your heart. “One day, it will be my daughter’s,” you decided and were about to walk away from the desk when you spotted an unfinished letter.

Carefully and curiously, you picked the paper up and read the few sentences that he had written down before taking a break and never being able to go back to it again.

Dear Daughter, I am aware of the anger and all the resentment you must be holding in your heart towards me. I am not asking for much but please, write back to us. If not for me, then do it for Paul. We both miss you dearly and we are worried when you are not answering our letters personally. All we want to know is if you are safe and…

Your eyes widened and your heart skipped a beat. So, they had been writing to you. All this time... And only Baron Harkonnen knew how many letters had been kept away from you. Of course he had lied to you. How could you be so stupid…?

You clenched your fist and then threw the crumpled paper back into the drawer. It didn’t change anything now. It brought you some peace, deep down, but it didn’t mean anything anymore. It wouldn't take back time.

You approached your father’s bed and spotted a robe laying there, discarded. He would wear that over his nightwear when he was leaving the room in the middle of the night due to an emergency. You assumed that the Harkonnen invasion was an emergency so sudden and violent that he had no time to put it on.

The robe was silk and dark green with the Atreides emblem on the chest. You sat on the edge of the bed and put the doll down on your lap before taking the robe in your hands and squeezing it as you brought it to your face. It still faintly smelled like him. It smelled like your father.

You buried your face in the silk and closed your eyes, remembering his embrace. For a short while it was almost as if he was still there, holding you and telling you it would be alright.

But it wasn’t alright. It hadn’t been alright and his daughter had died. You couldn’t tell when it happened exactly. Had Princess Atreides die in that cell on the night before her wedding? Or when she had been locked up after the Baron had told her about going to Arrakis and killing her family? Or maybe she had died somewhere in the meantime. Perhaps when she had seen Feyd taking an innocent life for the first time. It was really hard to tell but she was definitely gone now.

You startled at the sound of someone entering the room without knocking. It was Feyd – no one else would dare to do that.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said and froze at the sight of you holding your father’s robe. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you stood up and threw the robe on the floor as you picked the doll up. “Burn it,” you ordered. “And we’ll take a different room. They can clean up this one,” you approached him and handed him the doll in your hands. He took it, confused.

“What is this?” He asked.

“Our next child will be a daughter and you will give it to her when she is born,” you told him sternly.

He snorted at first but then he realised that you had been dead serious. The doll held lots of significance and meaning to you and he didn’t even have any idea how much you trusted him with it.

Feyd nodded his head after a long while and he looked down at the doll, awkwardly holding her in his pale hands.

“My Lady, what is your decision?” The servant knocked upon the door and joined you.

“I don’t want this room, clean it up,” you told him.

“Do you want a room next to your husband’s, na-baroness?” He asked.

“No, we will share one room,” you told him and he bowed down before leaving you quietly. “Unless you want your own,” you laid your eyes on Feyd.

“I want what you want.”

You were walking through the endless desert. It was like the oceans back on Caladan but instead of the water there was sand. The heat did not bother you and you did not feel tired at all. However, all this walking seemed pointless. You didn’t know where you were or where to go.

And then you spotted someone on the horizon. A tiny figure in a stillsuit and your heart skipped a beat. Was it one of the Fremen? You didn’t want to find out but your legs kept walking anyway as if you had no control over your body.

The figure remained motionless. After a while you spotted it was a man. You wondered why he was not reacting at all, seeing you walking towards him. Perhaps he was waiting for you. But why?

When you were close enough to see his face, you gasped. It was your brother, Paul Atreides, with his eyes blue from the spice, wearing a Fremen armour and he seemed to stare in the distance. Now you realised that he couldn’t see you even though you were facing him.

“Paul?” You asked as your body stopped walking with your face inches away from his. “Brother?”

He startled a little and furrowed his brows. Did he hear you…?

“Paul,” you said again and his eyes found yours.

“Sister,” his voice was different now. It was rough and held no affection. It made your blood run cold.

“What are we doing here?” You asked sadly. “Let’s go back home.”

“What is home now?”

“Caladan,” you explained.

“We cannot.”

You woke up abruptly and sat up, breathing heavily as you felt the sweat running down your spine and forehead. You had never experienced a dream so vivid and realistic as this one.

You assumed it was because of Arrakis. The heat could cause such a vision or perhaps it was all that buried deep down grief after losing your family. Being here now, in that palace where they had lived and died, it was making you feel odd.

Feyd woke up as well and you heard him reaching out for the knife underneath his pillow.

“It’s alright,” you told him. “I’ve just had a bad dream.”

“It’s your first night on Arrakis. Maybe it’s the spice messing with your head,” you felt his hand rubbing your back. “Lay down, come to me,” he whispered and you did.

You laid your head on his chest and hugged him tight like a scared child. Your heart was pounding and you felt dizzy. But you didn’t want to tell your husband what the dream was. He didn’t ask anyway.

On the next day you were gathered in a conference room. Everyone was there, the Baron and Count Rabban, too. You hoped that they would go back to Giedi Prime but it seemed like they wanted to stay and ensure that the spice production would go back to normal. You tried not to make a face at that as you watched the hologram globe of Arrakis in front of you on display.

“Shouldn’t the Fremen delegation greet the new Governor of Arrakis?” You asked.

“The Fremen do not have negotiations with us anymore. We are in the state of war, na-baroness,” one of the engineers answered you with a nod of his head.

“Let it be war, then,” you nodded back.

“What is causing the biggest problems?” Your husband asked as he gave his brother a contemptuous look. “Apart from the bad governing of the resources.”

“The Fremen have a new leader, a mysterious Muad’Dib,” The Baron explained and for some reason a shiver went down your spine at the mention of the name. You didn’t know why because it didn’t sound sinister or dangerous.

“And what about him?” Feyd asked. You could hear he was bored of the meeting and wanted real action as soon as possible.

“They are destroying our machinery and killing our soldiers, slowing down the production. He is unstoppable. Like a shadow,” Rabban explained and Feyd snorted at him.

“My big scary brother failed to deal with one Fremen savage,” he drawled. “Instead of slaughtering them all.”

“And what would our Baroness do?” The Baron interrupted Feyd and stared at you with a smirk. Suddenly, the whole room laid their eyes on you and you blinked a few times, surprised.

“Why would you ask a woman that?” Rabban inquired and Feyd hissed at him for that remark.

“Because I want to know her insight. Our Baroness happens to have interesting ideas,” Baron teased, his squinted eyes never leaving yours.

“I would oppose slaughtering the Fremen,” you stated.

“I’ve told you, she’s just a woman,” Rabban laughed.

“She is the Governess of Arrakis and your na-baroness and you will respect her,” Feyd barked.

“Enough!” You banged the fist on the table and the sound echoed through the chamber full of the Harkonnen servants and engineers widening their eyes at you. “Both of you!” You snapped. “Acting like children,” you scolded. “I am not the Governess of Arrakis, Feyd,” you laid your eyes on him and he looked a bit taken aback by your outburst. “That title does not work that way. You’re the Governor and I am your wife. However,” you looked at the Baron again. He was smirking all that time. “I do not think slaughtering them will bring us profit. They know the desert and the spice more than we do. We need them as obedient allies. But in order to have them as allies, we have to defeat them and their will to fight. We need to hit them with aggression that they have not yet seen nor experienced in their worst nightmares,” you raised your chin up.

“And that aggression is Feyd-Rautha,” Baron nodded at your husband.

“If we have negotiations with the Fremen in the future, I’d like to be there,” you announced and Rabban snorted. You knew that he did not mean these things personally, he was just frustrated that he was being replaced by his brother and seeing that an off-world woman was holding more influence than him had to be rough for his ego.

“What’s so funny, brother?” Feyd asked him and you rolled your eyes. They were at it again. “The only thing I find funny is how my wife has more brains than you.”

“And why is that funny?” You asked him, irritated.

“That is enough indeed,” Baron raised his hand. “We all have better things to do,” he announced and everyone bowed their heads as he left the room.

You watched your husband and his brother leaving right behind him, still having an argument like little children. Then you took a deep breath in and stood up to go back to Astra and Cara.

However, when you left the room, Feyd grabbed his brother’s neck and pushed him down on the floor. He basically threw him at your feet and you were surprised that he had managed it so easily since Rabban was a big and strong man.

“You will kiss her shoe and show your na-baroness respect,” Feyd ordered, “as you beg for her forgiveness.”

You looked down as Rabban looked up, scared. As much as it brought you some satisfaction to have a big, strong Harkonnen count who was called Beast Rabban at your feet, you felt sorry for him, too.

“Feyd, there is no need,” you looked at your husband.

“No, there is, because I say so,” he insisted and kicked his brother’s head. “He will kiss your shoe or die.”

“I said, there is no need,” you repeated, more sternly this time. “Your brother is not my enemy like he is not yours either,” you pointed out. “Stand up, Count Rabban,” you ordered the man.

Carefully and hesitantly he moved up, trying to avoid looking into your eyes.

“You shall remember the kindness I have given you,” you told him and he nodded. “Now, leave.”

You watched him walk away as fast as possible and then you looked at your husband. He wasn’t pleased but he was trying to hide it. You could tell when he was angry very easily from his facial expressions by now.

“Do not torment him. He might be useful,” you told him.

“He will do anything to keep his pathetic head on. He’s got no honour,” Feyd snorted at that. “He would kiss anyone’s shoe if his life depended on it.”

“Then he is more like me than I have expected,” you only said and walked past him, leaving him behind, surprised.

“You are not like him,” Feyd followed you as he grabbed your wrist. “You have honour.”

“Do I?” You chuckled and turned around to face him. “I did everything to survive. It had nothing to do with honour. I became a Harkonnen instead of doing what my Atreides pride was telling me to do and that was to kill myself before letting any of you hurt me or change me.”

“It is different,” he was trying to deny your words. You were confusing him now.

“You also do not have honour, Feyd-Rautha. The way you used to fight drugged warriors in the arena. It has nothing to do with honour,” you reminded him as his jaw clenched. “And you know what? I don’t care,” you shrugged your arms. “My father, he was an honourable man. And look where it has gotten him. We are too cunning for honour.”

“We?” Feyd asked.

“The Harkonnens,” you explained and cupped his face to pull his head down and place a kiss upon his forehead. “Now, go, weren’t you supposed to terrorise the poor Fremen?”

He smirked at you and leaned in to place a hungry kiss upon your lips as his hand caressed your womb.

“Be careful, my darling, come back to me in one piece from the treacherous desert,” you bid him farewell and kissed him one last time before going back to your chambers.

Weeks had passed and the mysterious Muad’Dib remained uncaught, however the spice production came back to full efficiency. It was difficult to celebrate such victory, though, because you weren’t even sure if it was because of Feyd-Rautha being a good Governor or was it because of his uncle who still was present on Arrakis. Both him and Rabban. You wondered how things had been back on Giedi Prime – especially now, when all the important Harkonnens were on Arrakis.

You had your girls and your medic and much less nosy guards following you everywhere. The Arrakeen Palace was giving you lots of freedom and safety but it was also a much more boring place than the fortress on Giedi Prime. It was full of ghosts, too – you couldn’t stop thinking your family had been slayed in that very place.

You kept dreaming of Paul each and every night. It was making you feel weary and frustrated at this point. You didn’t want Feyd to know so you often would leave the bed quietly in the middle of the night and walk outside to sit on the balcony. There was something fascinating about the desert; it was so calm yet dangerous. By day it was too hot to just stare and admire but at night it was peaceful and with no one around to bother you.

Tonight you were standing and admiring the moon in your nightgown, with your hand caressing your swollen womb. It was getting bigger and bigger each day and you could feel the child move now. The medic assured you he was placed properly and growing healthy. You wondered if your son would be born on Arrakis.

“What’s wrong?” Feyd’s voice made you turn around. He was standing by the entrance to the balcony and staring at you.

“I can’t sleep,” you lied. You could but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to dream of Paul.

“Again?” Feyd sighed and approached you. He stood behind you and leaned your body on his chest. It made you sigh out of relief and he placed his hands on your abdomen. “Perhaps the spice is doing you harm.”

“No, the medic would have noticed that,” you shook your head. “Perhaps it’s your son keeping me awake,” you made up a believable excuse and Feyd chuckled.

“And what are you doing here? Staring at the sand?”

“I don’t expect you to understand the beauty of the desert,” you teased. “But yes, the sand, the moon, everything.”

“When I will become the Baron, we will have a little tour and visit every planet under Harkonnen rule,” he whispered into your ear. “You will see many beautiful things, my darling pet.”

“And when will that be?” You snapped, frustrated. “In ten years? A hundred?” You snorted.

“What are you talking about?” Feyd took a step back and leaned on the railing to take a better look at your face but you remained staring in the distance.

“What is he still doing here? I thought Arrakis was ours. Yet, he is here and it feels as if we are being supervised. Meanwhile, Giedi Prime remains without protection,” you drawled through gritted teeth.

“If you were him, would you leave us two to each other?” Feyd asked.

“Are you by his side again?” You finally looked at him, angrily. “He gave you the planet to govern and you’re defending him again?”

“I am not defending him,” Feyd got angry, too, at your words. “But it is obvious why he stayed here. He knows we might be plotting. He needs to keep an eye on things.”

“I have already plotted,” you lowered your voice and went back to staring at the moon.

Feyd kept looking at you in silence for a while before he finally spoke up again.

“And what is that?”

“He shall be slayed by night alongside most of the guards and servants. We will say it was a nighttime assassination attack by Muad’Dib and his people. They targeted the Harkonnen nobility and you were too busy saving your pregnant wife to help your uncle,” you whispered.

“Everyone will know the truth, it's too obvious,” Feyd told you. “It's only giving us an alibi for those who want to believe in it.”

“Of course they will suspect what really happened but they will not care. You showed them your worth in the arena and you brought back the full efficiency of the spice production. The Harkonnen lords will give you a chance. I am sure they’ve already grown tired and weary of the Baron,” you kept convincing him.

“What if Muad’Dib suddenly decides to show up and deny?”

You sighed and looked at him again, furiously.

“Just admit that you don’t want him dead, because in some way I cannot understand… you love him,” you hissed at him.

“Love?” It was the first time you heard him use that word and it brought a chill down your spine. It sounded so off and scary when your husband said it out loud. “I don’t know what that pathetic feeling is,” he assured you.

“I can see that,” you raised an eyebrow at him and walked away to leave the balcony and go back to your bedroom.

You were hurt, angry and frustrated and it was starting to bring tears to your eyes but you didn’t want him to see that.

Your husband followed you to the bedroom. In the way his footsteps were even heavier than usual, you spotted his annoyance as well.

“What do you expect of me? You’re so impatient, woman,” he started once the doors closed behind him. “You want everything and you want it now. I said I’d do it, I swore I’d do it but you admitted yourself we have to wait longer. If he dies here at night, do you think the noble lords of Giedi Prime will accept that so easily?”

“Then slay the ones who refuse to accept you as the successor!” You turned around with the rage making your blood boil. “Slay everyone standing in our way, as you promised. Do you want our son to be born in a world that he is manipulating for his own gain? Do you want to be his dog following the orders for the next few years? I am tired of playing the games with him on his own chess board. I want to make my own game, my own rules, my own board!” You tried to keep your voice down in case someone would spy on you but it was difficult with all that anger pouring out of you.

In one swift move, Feyd grabbed your chin and squeezed your cheeks as he brought your face so close to his that your noses were rubbing each other. There was so much anger in his eyes that the old you would start trembling out of fear for her life but the new you didn’t even flinch.

“Keep your voice down, we will do it,” he spat out.

“No,” you mumbled. “You will do it. You’re the hand that slays,” you reminded him and he kissed you so hungrily that you became breathless.

“I still want to kill you sometimes,” he confessed between one kiss and another as he led you back to your bed and laid you down on the mattress. “Choke you, slit your pretty little throat, watch you squirm under me as you bleed to death.”

“Whatever turns you on, my darling,” you chuckled at him as he looked at you sternly.

“If I hurt you, I’d kill myself right after. I’m bound to you forever,” he confessed and you smiled gently.

You didn’t want to tease him that after all, he did know what love was. After all, he did feel it. But you knew that he’d hate being confronted with the truth.

“If something happened to you, I would want to die alongside you, too,” you told him. “You’re the only one I have and none of my ambitions matter without you by my side.”

It was true. You didn't want to rule alone. In fact, you didn't want to ever feel lonely in your life again.

You were sitting next to Paul and watching the sunset in silence. In your dreams you would always meet him in the desert. Nothing else seemed to exist on Arrakis in the dreamworld – except for you and him.

“Why do you haunt me?” You asked and laid your eyes on his angry face. He was always so angry these days.

You hated Paul from your dreams. He was different. There was no kindness and gentleness about him anymore. If you were supposed to be haunted by his ghost, you’d rather be haunted by the brother you had remembered instead.

“I am not here for you,” Paul snorted and you furrowed your brows. Then he looked down at your swollen womb and you instinctively protected it with your hands.

“What do you mean?” You gasped.

“The spawn inside you shares my blood on both sides,” he answered mysteriously, which confused you greatly but you decided not to give it a second thought. After all, it was just a dream. “No, it is not,” Paul smirked viciously at you, as if he was able to read your thoughts.

“Get up,” you heard Feyd’s rough voice as his hand shook your arm. You woke up abruptly and sat up, trying to calm yourself after the dream.

“What’s going on?” You asked and looked around the dark room.

“Come with me,” your husband looked very pleased with himself as he pulled you out of the bed.

“What are you–”

“Shh,” he put his finger over his mouth as he led you outside.

You gasped at the sight of the bodies scattered all over the corridor of the palace. Servants and guards with their throats slit, laying in poodles of their own blood.

“Have you done that?” You asked quietly and Feyd nodded. “My girls…” you gasped.

“I haven’t touched your pets,” he assured you and stopped in front of the doors leading to the Baron’s chambers.

“Have you killed him…?” You were both excited and terrified of the outcome if the answer was yes. But, most importantly, you were in shock.

“Not yet,” Feyd answered as he pushed the doors open in front of you.

Not sure what his words meant, you entered the chamber carefully and spotted the Baron on his bed, letting out loud and raspy breaths. His life support machinery was no longer attached to him; you assumed Feyd had decided to give him a slow death.

You looked at your husband and spotted a sadistic sparkle in his eye as he was visibly enjoying the sounds and the view. He put his arm around you and walked you closer to the Baron’s bed.

That old and sick man looked pathetic at that moment and for a short while you even felt sorry for him. His eyes widened even further at the sight of you as he raised one of his hands towards you but you took a step back.

You didn’t know what to expect of him on his deathbed. Some part of you craved for him to admit his defeat and name you a worthy successor of the Harkonnen throne. Some other part of you expected him to curse you and your whole bloodline, which would be quite justified.

However, you certainly did not expect the sheer desperation and debasement.

“P-please…” He could barely speak. “Please, help me,” he tried to reach out for you.

You didn’t feel sorry for him anymore. You felt disgusted.

“You’re a weakling,” you smirked at him. “You called my father weak but I am sure that he did not beg like a dog on his deathbed. I am sure he died with dignity.”

“Please, help me…” He coughed out. “Help me and I will make your son an Emperor…”

“I do not need you to make my son an Emperor,” you laughed with contempt. “I am to become The Baroness Harkonnen; commanding the largest army and possessing the biggest wealth in the galaxy.”

“F-Feyd, I was like a father to you…” He searched for his nephew’s cruel eyes now, giving up on asking for your compassion and pity. “My boy…”

“Like a father, you say,” Feyd drawled. “I couldn’t wait to kill you for so many years now.”

“Please…”

“Oh, shut him up, how long will it take for him to die?” You sighed with an eye-roll as Feyd nodded his head at you and grabbed the short knife attached to his hip.

“Farewell, dear uncle,” he smiled smugly as he slit the Baron’s throat.

You watched mesmerised, without even blinking. It felt like a dream more than reality.

“The Arrakeen Palace will be considered cursed for all the Barons and Dukes from now on,” you only said.

Without a word, Feyd dropped the blade and fell on his knees in front of you, pulling you close by your hips and burying his face in the fabric of your nightgown right where your womb was. You knew what he wanted. A praise, an approval, a blessing.

“My Baroness,” he breathed out.

“Stand tall, my Baron,” you caressed his head and he looked up. His eyes sparkled in the moonlight and you cupped his chin to caress his full lips with your thumb. “You’ve made me proud and happy, my darling,” you assured him.

He nodded at you and collected the discarded blade from the floor. It was important not to leave any trace. You both went back to your chambers and laid down in bed, pretending to be asleep – too excited to actually be able to drift off. This time you didn’t feel guilty even a little bit like after the death of the harpies. This time it didn’t even feel like murder or taking another human being’s life. This time it felt like nothing but relief.

You watched the sunrise through the window with your head on your husband’s chest and his hand rubbing your back, waiting for the remaining servants’ screams to signal the beginning of the new era.

There were screams indeed. People were running, yelling, banging on your door. Both Feyd and you acted surprised and startled at the news but Astra and Cara had to be the only people in the palace who actually believed your story. The medic inspected the Baron’s body and started to wonder if it really had been Muad’Dib’s work since the cuts did not remind of the Fremen weapons. Feyd only hissed at him so the medic stopped any further insinuations.

Count Rabban’s behaviour surprised you the most as he was following his brother around and seeming to act like the most loyal and obedient subject. He had quickly realised it was the best chance of survival for him. He hadn’t questioned anything so far and simply followed every word leaving his younger brother’s mouth.

Everything was a mess and chaos on that day but it was mostly Feyd dealing with it, basking in his new title and glory, as you were sitting on your bed with terrified Astra and Cara, holding them both and assuring them of their safety.

“How can you not be worried, na-baroness? I mean, Baroness?” Astra widened her eyes. “If Muad’Dib was here last night… Oh, I don’t even want to imagine what would happen if he went inside your chambers instead…”

“My husband would defend me,” you kissed her forehead and then you kissed Cara’s.

“What if he comes back?” Cara was shaking out of fear and you felt bad for making them feel like this but you couldn’t tell them the truth. “Now, when they know that we have fewer guards around?”

“We will be prepared this time,” you squeezed their hands. “My girls, I am sorry for being insensitive but I shall get dressed in mourning attire now and finally join my husband to help him with the officialties.”

Every lady travelled with a mourning dress just in case. Yours was a combination of black silk and black armour pieces with chains, connected to the matching headpiece. It looked dignified and intimidating – exactly how you wanted it to look like. You had already dreamt of The Baron’s death while planning your trip. Therefore the mourning dress you had chosen was accurate to your new role of The Baroness.

It sounded so good. For the upcoming days you would get drunk on the way people would address you. And then, when you'd finally be back on Giedi Prime, there would be a lavish celebration and official event for you two becoming the new Baron and Baroness. You couldn't wait for that day.

You smiled to yourself in the mirror and fixed the headpiece for one last time as you adjusted the Atreides signet ring on your pinky finger. On your pointing finger there was a huge ring with the Harkonnen emblem. And hidden between the folds of your dress and attached to the armour piece on your hip was the blade your husband had given you on the day of his birthday. No one could see it but you could reach for it swiftly in the case of emergency.

You joined Feyd in the conference room and everyone straightened at the sight of you. They always would but this time it felt different. You were the one holding the power – and they respected you for you, not for the fact that you were under protection of The Baron.

“Baroness,” they bowed down and went back to work, avoiding your gaze.

“How are things going?” You approached Feyd as he looked you up and down with a smirk. You put your hand on his chest.

“I sent Rabban back on Giedi Prime with our uncle’s body,” he told you and held your hand to lay a kiss upon it. “He will take care of the affairs there until we finish our business on Arrakis. I want to take care of that Muad’Dib rat before returning home and finding someone worthy to replace me as the Governor here. Rabban will also send us more Harkonnen troops since we have lost many guards last night,” he informed you in an official manner.

“We must avenge our late Lord Baron,” you clenched your jaw as you nodded. His eyes sparkled with mockery as he pretended to look worried.

You were sure that most people in that room had known the truth but they kept their poker faces on and allowed you to play out this little scene.

“My Lord,” one of the engineers raised his voice, concerned. Feyd turned around and you both stared at the hologram of the Arrakis globe. Red dots started to appear on the orbit. “We have guests,” the engineer explained. “The ships are definitely not ours.”

“Who is it?” Feyd barked at him. “Find that out, we are not expecting anyone,” he looked at you, a little concerned.

You were not pleased with the idea of guests now, out of all times, either.

“Who dares to interrupt our peace unannounced on the day after our late Lord Baron’s tragic death?” You asked out loud, playing your mourning role the best you could.

What a mockery it was that you had to be hiding all the grief after your actual family but had to display fake tears for the man you had hated with every fibre of your being.

“M-my Lord, my Lady…” the engineer turned around with his eyes widened, “it’s the Emperor himself… The whole imperial delegation.”

You and Feyd looked at each other.

“It took them days to get here. There is no way they are here because of last night’s incident,” Feyd pointed out. “Still, I do not understand. I have brought the spice production back to full efficiency. What could be the reason for his visit?”

You moved uncomfortably as your son kicked your rib. As if he too knew of the importance of this sudden imperial audience. It would be the first time you’d greet someone of such importance as The Harkonnen Baroness and it would be the first time you’d see the Emperor face to face. He had visited your father a few times on Caladan but children had not been allowed near their meetings.

“We have to greet him and find out,” you took a deep breath in, preparing yourself mentally for the first challenge in your new role.

You shot Feyd a glance and he nodded at you, reassuringly. With him by your side, it couldn’t go that bad, you tried to convince yourself. His presence was equipping you with courage and determination you had not known before.

Everything you were doing now, you were doing for the two of you and your future. Nothing else mattered.

MASTERLIST

#dune x reader #dune fanfic #dune imagine #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha fanfic #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen fanfic #feyd rautha harkonnen imagine #austin butler x reader #lilysfiction #tttw

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pirateprincessblog · 20 days

Text

in vino veritas

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: hongjoong loves art, wine, and pretty girls. how convenient that on the opening night of his art gallery, as he sips his red wine, his eyes land on you. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dilf!hongjoong x fem!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.1k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: dilf!hongjoong, bratty!reader, artist!hongjoong 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: voyeurism, oral (m receiving), toys, gagging, hint of ddlg

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: divorced parent child, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, swearing 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i always write the reader as inexperienced or innocent, this time i'm trying a different approach hehe hopefully it works!

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞��𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔,

𝒊 𝒂𝒎 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒊𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒈𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒅𝒂𝒚, 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒎 𝒊𝒏 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔. 𝒏𝒐 𝒈𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒔 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒅, 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒕𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉. 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒐 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒍𝒖𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒓.

𝒌𝒊𝒎 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒋𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒈.

it is a challenge to find an outfit appropriate for the evening. you do not wish to go, not since your mother has made it clear she is going only for mr kim. your father, as his best friend since childhood, would be there, and your mother couldn't pass the opportunity to continue her game of jealousy since their separation.

"bold of you to assume that mr kim will even lay his eyes on you." you comment, passing by her room and glancing at her outfit choice. a red dress shorter than her knees with a low neckline. a classic. funnily enough, she used the very same dress to separate your father's then girlfriend from him and took him for herself. she is your mother, but you don't close your eyes at her mistakes. "besides, you're not twenty anymore. that dress doesn't look flattering at all. it's not age appropriate."

"god, just like your father. insults, insults-"

"oh, so when i kiss your ass i am like you, but when i disagree with you, i am like my father? how lovely."

"go to your room and get dressed."

"why do i have to go? you're the one who's trying to get dicked down toni-"

"go to your room!"

defeated, you groan and slam your door shut, then throw yourself on the bed. even with your head buried under your pillows, you still hear her obnoxious voice.

"and don't talk back to me! you've become very rude, and i will not have you embarrass me in front of our friends there! especially not in front of hongjoong."

you don't remember mr kim. you only know that he had a wife, that she also cheated, much like your mother, and since then he only travels and creates art wherever he goes. ever since you got the invitation, you've been trying to find out how he looks now. but all he posts on his social media is the destinations he's visiting, food and sneak peeks of his art. not even a glimpse of him in any picture. come to think of it, your mother's standards are pretty high. your father had your school friends coming over to your house just for him, you can only imagine what mr kim looks like.

deciding on a simple short sweater dress and knee high boots, you put your coat on and head into the autumn evening. your mother trails behind, having difficulties with walking in such high heels. you don't wait, still angry about her plan involving your poor father and an innocent man.

it is only seven in the evening, and something tells you that you'll be here for a very long time. at least midnight. on the bright side, you'll finally see your father. and meet the mystery man behind all the artwork you've been admiring. he doesn't post much of it, but what you've seen, it's pretty damn amazing.

"dad!" you spot him as soon as you enter the crowded space, your father with his recognizable thomas shelby outfit and a glass of whiskey in his hand. you hug him, tight as always, and subconsciously smell him. tobacco, whiskey, and vanilla. home.

"hey, kid." he returns the hug, a little less tight than yours as to not hurt you. "oh you smell great! that the new perfume i got you?"

"oh, i absolutely love it. i bathe in it every day."

"i'm so glad you like it." he gently ruffles your hair, enough to show affection but to not mess it up completely. "now, where's ursula?"

"very mature, calling your ex wife a cartoon villain. what, i put on a few pounds, so what?"

"it's not about the pounds, and you know it."

you turn your head away from your mother, hiding the laugh that is threatening to escape. but she catches the way your father winks your way, and claps her hands, causing a few heads to turn.

"a father and daughter teaming up on her mother. lovely. if you love him more than me, why don't you go live with him?"

you finally look at her, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. "you threatened to hurt yourself if you saw me exit the house with a suitcase. you guilt tripped me, called yourself an awful mother and whatnot. what are you on about?"

defeated, she tries to push the glass of whiskey out of your father's hand, and when failing to do so, she groans and stomps down the gallery hall. and yet she calls you two mature sarcastically.

"i truly hope she finds someone crazy enough to handle her, just so you can finally move out and have a life of your own. is she giving you a hard time?"

"i can handle her. usual guilt tripping and nagging, nothing new. how was your trip?"

your father happily tells you all about his recent trip to spain and france, which was mr kim hongjoong's gift to him for birthday. he went on and on about all the food he tried, all the buildings and art he saw, and how fun and informed about everything mr kim was.

"he knew so much that i was ashamed to be walking with him sometimes. i didn't know the difference between baroque and rococo. hell, i didn't know what rococo even was. i'm definitely taking you to see la sagrada familia on my next week off."

"sounds great, dad."

"listen, i'm gonna go find the restroom, too much whiskey," he whispers, "you feel free to walk around and watch. if you see something you like, i'll ask hongjoong for the price and i'll get it for you."

you look at him with a scoff, but when you see that he is dead serious, you raise your eyebrows. "what? you'd buy an art piece worth thousands of pounds?"

"family discount," he winks at you once again, then disappears into the crowd.

"a drink, madam?" someone says next to you.

your eyes land on the tray with glasses of red and sparkling wine, the person holding it dressed in a simple white dress shirt and black slacks, hair slicked back and white gloves on his hands.

"no thanks, i don't drink."

he nods understandingly, then continues his journey towards the arriving guests. you were never one to buy art. well, you weren't exactly one to be really into it. you see a picture, a sculpture or something similar, you think it's neat. do you go out of your way to find out the artist, or search for more? not quite. but walking down the waxed floor under the rich chandeliers and looking at the massive paintings, you might get into it. finally, something that is not minimalism or some picasso-wannabe shit. stunning golden frames, detailed paintings, and harmony of colours on canvas. all of it put together so perfectly, as if it was brought back from the times of renaissance and not painted in an atelier just outside of town earlier this year.

"drink?"

"i said no already, thanks." you reply, not bothering to look at the person.

"just a sip? to loosen up. you look rather stiff."

you turn your head towards the voice, confused as to why the waiter is persistent. but next to you stands a well dressed man, two glasses of red wine in his hands. he wears black slacks, a tight black turtleneck, and a long black coat. his eyes are pools of honey under the yellow chandeliers, and his hair shiny streaks of gold. he looks breath taking, and you almost thank your mother for dragging you here.

he holds the wine glass for you to take, and you do so. he raises his own towards you, then takes a sip of it, not once breaking eye contact with you. you bring yours to your lips, and the alcohol barely touches them before you move it away. you were never a fan of alcoholic drinks. they tasted awful, and brought out the worst in you. you don't want to embarrass your father tonight. or yourself in front of this gorgeous looking man.

"you've spent quite some time looking at this. admiring the work or surprised at the nudity?"

you scoff, looking at the painting again. gradually going down the hall, the art becomes less art and more erotica. how disappointing. "not admiring, that's for sure."

"oh? how so?" he asks, intrigued.

"well, for starters, very unrealistic. such big breasts and such a tiny waist? has that hongjoong ever seen a woman in his life?"

he laughs along with you, taking another sip of his wine. "i heard he paints with live models, so i'm guessing that this woman really exists somewhere."

"alright, i'll let you have that one. what about this? very inaccurate." you walk over to the next painting, pointing out all the things you were dissatisfied with.

"even an art critic isn't this harsh. it's just art, at the end of the day. an artist's way of escaping and creating his own world to get lost in. nothing wrong with that, right? writers and readers have books, gamers have games, chefs have cooking and baking, and artists have art."

"well, if the artist is an old pervert and all his inspiration comes from naked women, then sure. nothing wrong with that."

after a few moments of silence, you look over at him. he stares at the painting, puzzled. you clear your throat, sensing the awkward air enveloping you both. "i would love to continue this conversation, but if i stay i will only become meaner and accidentally insult you, and i certainly wouldn't want that. i'm passionate when it comes to me being right and proving others wrong."

you give him the glass of wine back with a sour grin, and he returns a scoff of disbelief. "charming."

"wasn't trying to be."

and with that, you leave him standing with two glasses of wine again, just like he approached you. you visit the restroom too, taking a look at yourself in the mirror. all the women are gorgeous tonight, wearing classy dresses and heels, and suddenly you feel underdressed.

"oh my god, your boots are so cool!" as if she heard your overthinking, the girl behind you exclaims. "where did you get them?"

"uh, i think it was a sale at zara. very uncomfortable though, i don't recommend." you reply with a laugh.

"that's okay, they look so pretty it's worth it. anyways, love your makeup." then, she exits the restroom.

you look at your boots, plain black with a chunky heel and over the knees. nothing special about them. still, you appreciate the compliment.

it doesn't take long for you to find your father again, this time in front of a sculpture of, again, a half naked woman. how odd.

"there you are! found anything?"

"no," you reply dryly, and refrain yourself from nasty comments because of his friends.

"well, that's a shame. hongjoong, this is my daughter i've been telling you about."

your heart drops when you hear his name, and then drops a little lower when your eyes lock with the familiar brown ones you just abandoned further down the hall.

"oh, i've had the pleasure," he responds, not looking surprised like you. "an informed young woman, for sure."

so much for embarrassing yourself. if he is offended, he doesn't show it. he only extends his hand as a formal greeting, and when you offer him yours to shake, he turns it over and kisses the top of it. you are baffled, unable to do or say anything. you look over at your father, who doesn't blink an eye to the unusual situation you've found yourself in. mr kim releases your hand, but not before holding eye contact with you just a few seconds longer.

"ah, right, hongjoong is a gentleman. also, if you didn't already notice, he loves women. not like that, of course. they're just-"

"they are my biggest muse. this world's biggest and prettiest treasure."

"charming," you repeat his word from earlier.

he smirks, teasingly. you want to slap the smirk off his face. he adjusts the sleeves of his turtleneck, rolling them up to his elbows and showing off his forearms. it is only then that you notice he isn't wearing the coat anymore, and you have the freedom of shamelessly staring at his body. his forearms are big, painted with bulging veins. the turtleneck hugs his waist and chest perfectly, to the point of slightly showing the outline of his abs. he isn't bulky, but built like a greek statue. he holds himself so elegantly, not bothered what anyone has to say about his work. it's a shame, because you still have a lot to say, regardless of how hot and bothered you are for him at the moment.

"ah, let me just clarify something. in case someone thinks that i'm just an old pervert..." he discreetly glances at you, making your jaw drop slightly, "...all these women have come to me and asked to be painted or sculpted. i have never once asked a woman to undress for me, nor did i sexualize her when she did so herself. i see art, not porn material."

your father seems offended that someone could have made such an assumption. little did he know that the culprit was the young woman right next to him, hiding behind his glass of wine.

"say, hongjoong, how does that work? do i have to send you an e-mail? or just show up at your door?"

if you thought that the situation couldn't get more awkward, your mother decided to prove you wrong.

"mom!" you scold, pink spreading on your cheeks as you look at the people surrounding you.

"what? why wouldn't i want to be painted by such a handsome-"

"unfortunately, at the moment i do not take any commissions. the gallery is my priority."

and just like that, mr kim shuts her down. he spares her no glance, in respect towards your father, or simply because he is disgusted by such an idea and behaviour. he is not stupid, that you notice. he seems to know the difference when someone genuinely wants to be painted, and when someone tries to take advantage of the situation and expects something from him.

as the night goes, you notice that kim hongjoong isn't old like you called him. he is your father's age, sure, but he aged like fine wine. it takes a lot of staring and concentration to notice a few gray strands of hair cleverly hidden among the golden brown ones. you notice that he doesn't talk much. he lets the people around him talk, and only engages when they have a question about a work of his.

you also notice his hands. his fingers, specifically. you can't help but imagine his fingers dipped in clay, shaping it the way his mind intended, his focused gaze and messy hair. you wish to see him at work, at least once in your life. just to satisfy your imagination. because to make a move with a man of that age is just absurd, and disrespectful towards your father. and himself. he just said that he doesn't do it for sexual purposes, and you were almost offering him the same thing as your mother.

awful.

you glance at him one more time, and when you find him already staring at you with an intense gaze, you take it as your cue to leave. a look of hatred, curiosity or lust, you didn't know. you only knew that you felt nervous under his stare, sweat emerging on your skin and stomach turning from fear that he read your mind and caught you thinking about him inappropriately.

"it's a bit late, i'll excuse myself."

"oh, already?" your father asks, planting a kiss on your temple. "i suppose it is quite late. do you need me to walk you back home?"

"no, that's fine. you guys have fun though. oh, mr kim."

mr kim looks at you, surprised that you're addressing him after all night of avoiding his gaze. "yes?"

"wonderful works, truly. thank you for the invite." it's the least you can do after shamelessly shitting on his work in front of him.

"why, thank you. i appreciate it, especially coming from my best friend's daughter. let me walk you to the door."

and you don't get a say in it. your father practically pushes you into his best friend, who skillfully grabs your waist and restores your balance. your breathing seems to stop the few seconds he holds you, grip secure and manly on your body. when he releases you, it feels empty. you wish to be held again, manhandled, thrown around, anything by him.

"listen, i'm sorry for what i said." you say, walking towards the door and keeping up with him.

"mhm," he hums, as if it's not a big deal.

"no, really, i just..."

"it's fine." he says, holding your coat in the air for you.

"i sometimes speak before i think," you put one arm in the sleeve, "and i end up hurting someone or embarrassing myself."

"it's really fine." he says, tone calm and low. he helps your other arm in the sleeve, then, as if he knew your newfound weak spot, he places his hands on your waist and turns you towards him. only now, you are so determined to apologize to him that you don't even notice what he is doing.

"in this case, i did both. mr kim, please, accept my apology." he adjusts the collar of the coat, then buttons it up.

"i told you, it's fine." he is persistent.

you are a babbling mess, trying to correct the image of yourself he has created in his head, which couldn't possibly be good. after all, mr kim hongjoong is way too hot to have a bad opinion about you. you continue speaking, and he continues adjusting your clothes. it is not until he firmly grabs your jaw in his big warm hand that you shut your mouth. you look at him, almost startled, and gulp.

"i appreciate honest opinion. you are the only one who didn't kiss my ass tonight, and i appreciate it more than all the compliments i've gotten. so trust me when i say that it is fine. don't ever apologize for your opinions, you're not that kind of girl."

"what kind of girl do you think i am?"

he smirks, then rubs your cheek with his thumb as he brings your face closer to his. "not a good one, that's for sure."

the words shoot arrows to your core, and you suddenly feel hotter than the hottest summer day. you exhale shakily, not knowing what to do with yourself. he looks satisfied with the reaction you gave him, and decides to finally stop teasing.

"watch the road when crossing." he sends you a playful wink, then opens the door for you.

"thank you," you manage to say, and only nod his way before making your way down the street into the chilly autumn night.

the more time you spend with your father, the more you keep hearing about the artist who won't leave your mind anyway. from his stories, mr kim has been spoiling him rotten. no wonder he isn't home anymore. sitting on your father's porch on his swinging chair and taking in the last rays of sunshine before the harsh winter, you can't help but ask about the mystery man.

"how come he's your childhood best friend but i've only met him that evening?"

"well, you were young. you didn't pay any attention to things that aren't crushes, school and gossip."

"wow."

"it's true. you were just a kid, then a teen. and hongjoong wasn't around much during the day. then, he met ramona and moved with her to a different town. and then, while he was trying to save money and start a family, she was jumping on someone else on the bed that he bought with the last savings. they separated, and hongjoong started travelling just so he could be away from the town. he said everything reminds him of the night he found them. and i accompany him, which is really hard for me as you can see."

"oh, you're living a very hard life at the moment, dad. jokes aside, that sucks for him. do i know her?"

your father scrunches his eyebrows, as if he doesn't want to remember the woman. "she's still around. she was at the gallery, that whore."

it surprises you to hear him say such harsh words. he is usually semi-polite with his speech. mr kim must've really gone through something when even your father reacts like this.

"really? why would she come? did she have the invitation?"

"no, of course not. this isn't a big town, words spread faster than anything. she came with her boytoy to make fun of him, but got shat on when she saw how successful he has gotten. she just looked at me, tried to push the statue like a fucking idiot, then left angrily. i don't know what goes on in that woman's mind."

you scoff, then feel relieved that there was a bigger fool than you there. "how did he become an artist?"

"you can ask him that yourself. he doesn't bite, you know."

you take a sip of the peach tea, then set it aside quickly. still scorching. "why would you say that? i'm not scared of him or anything."

"you were running away from him yesterday. i didn't want to ask because i didn't want to make you uncomfortable, but it was a little disrespectful towards him. he was hurt."

"did he tell you that?" you raise an eyebrow.

"no...?"

"he'll live." you simply say, then grab your phone.

you type his name in the social app again, hoping to see a new post. and there it is, a brand new post, just twenty seconds ago. simple pictures from that night, the group posing in front of the museum, then in front of various photos. then, random shots of food, drinks, and finally, you.

you, staring at the photo that you loved the most in the hall, taken from the profile. it looks like something that jumped out of pinterest, and not something that he secretly snapped before approaching you. the photo is so good that you might even post it yourself.

art admiring art, the caption says. you're surely reading too much into it. he doesn't mean it about you. there's multiple people in the photos, for god's sake. but no, your delusional self loves to make an appearance, and thus the filthy thoughts of kim hongjoong resurface again. you've been trying to push it down, especially in front of your father, but one night of insomnia, a fresh image of kim hongjoong in a tight turtle neck grabbing your face, and a hand down your sleepwear, you've fallen into the void.

now, you can't escape it. you fantasize about him, day and night, stalk his accounts, even take the longer route to work just to pass by the museum in hopes of catching a glance of him. but all you've gotten is sore feet and more sexual frustration. nothing helps anymore, not a single toy that you have once neatly packed under the bed and were collecting dust up until recently. so when your father asks you to drop some things over at the atelier, you are happy to do it.

when you hear the word atelier, you expect a cozy little room in an old building with wooden furniture and with the smell of paint. but you forget that kim hongjoong is filthy rich. the address your father has given you takes you to a whole wooden cabin just outside of town, surrounded by a light forest. you gulp, realizing what situation you are in.

you are about to be alone with the most gorgeous man you've ever seen in your life. you are about to walk into his personal space. and you have to keep your thoughts collected, just in case he is a good people reader. and you somehow feel like he is. you are wet just standing outside, holding the bag of items your father has sent him and shamelessly thinking about all possible ways he would fu-

"oh, hi. i thought i saw someone standing there. please, do come in." mr kim calls from the door, wiping his hands with a cloth. you see stains of paint all over them, and paired with his bulging veins, you realize that you aren't the strongest soldier today and that you have to run home to a certain device as soon as possible.

"good evening, sir. i actually just came to drop this off, per my father's request." you hold out the bag for him to take.

he looks at you with a raised eyebrow, still standing at the door. "you can approach, the cabin doesn't bite."

you exhale, trying to calm your heart beat. it feels like it's going to jump out and plunge straight into his face. you finally make your way towards him, trying to avoid his gaze. you don't know if he does it on purpose, but it is so intense that it feels like even your hair is sweating. he is looking you up and down as you approach, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. he takes the bag from your hand, seeing that you don't plan on speaking yet.

"and i don't bite either." he smirks, then goes back inside the cabin.

"i wish you did," you mumble, then follow after him.

the place smells like paint, just how you imagined. and it is much cozier than it looks outside. you finally get a good look at him, now that his attention is on the contents of the bag. he wears a halfway unbuttoned white dress shirt, almost see through, black slacks, and has messy hair. as if he read your thoughts, he runs his fingers through it, taming the golden strands and showing off his finely aged face.

"a drink?" he asks, hand reaching for the wine bottle that sits on the table among the brushes. "ah, right. i forgot."

he pours himself a glass instead. you bite the inside of your cheek. you hate it, you really do. but for him? no, you're not like that. not with your father's friend, god no.

"this one is actually very sweet. it doesn't have that much alcohol in it. want a sip?"

he holds his own glass for you to try. under the warm yellow lights, you see the outline of his lips on the edge of the glass. you feel ashamed that you do take the glass, and press the lips on the same outline. it takes every ounce in you not to jump into his arms and make out with him like there's no tomorrow. but you manage, only taking a sip of the dark liquid before returning the glass to him. you keep the liquid inside your mouth, afraid to let it pour down your throat. you are not ready for the stinging and bitter aftertaste. but the longer you hold it, the more you look like a squirrel with puffy cheeks and your eyes tear up.

mr kim notices, and chuckles. not mockingly, but maybe a bit fondly. he approaches you, taking your jaw into his hand again. you notice the dried paint on his fingers, and his rolled up sleeves again. his eyes look into yours, and if he wasn't holding your head up so you can look at him, you would surely turn around and leave. it is too much, yet you don't have many options at the moment. to look away, or to maintain the eye contact. he seems to be into it, and so you give it to him. you are starting to be into it too.

his thumb rubs your cheek, much like that night. his eyes roam your face, as if he is memorizing every single detail on it. he licks his lips, and his gaze softens. "swallow for me."

in the dead silence, you can almost hear your sanity shatter. you do as he tells you, with no thoughts in your brain. the liquid stings your throat, but the growing lust inside of you overshadows it. you subconsciously lick your lips, mimicking him. he smiles to himself, noticing it.

"good girl."

what you didn't expect is for him to turn around and sit on the wooden stool, rolling his sleeves further up and getting back to his painting. you stand in the middle of the room, red faced, warm and with drenched panties, shocked at his behaviour. does he do this with his models too? gets flirty, then continues his work like nothing happened? is that how he gets such erotic paintings?

"you can sit on the couch if you want, i'll be done soon. i can drive you back."

you sit on the couch, immediately sinking into it. "how did you know i didn't drive here?"

"you always walk," he simply replies, his back still turned towards you and his hands working on the canvas, "i see you every day when you pass by the museum."

oh.

"what do you say? think you can manage with me for half an hour in here? i heard you don't like me much."

your cheeks are redder than ever, lust combined with embarrassment bringing out the worst in you. "i apologized."

you hear him chuckle. "i know. no harm in a little teasing."

minutes feel like hours as you sit upside down on the comfy green couch, legs resting over the backrest and head hanging from the couch above the carpet. he doesn't pay you much attention, but all of your attention is on him. you watch as his back muscles move when he reaches for a certain paint or brush on the high shelves, as his fingers run through his hair to get it out of his face, as his hand rubs the paint into the canvas. you feel a sensation on your clit, seeing his finger rub the paint in such an erotic way that you think it's not a coincidence.

you breathe out, trying to calm yourself again. you could leave, yes. but you don't want to. you're fine. you'll live. you distract yourself with snooping around his drawers next to the couch. you find a clean set of brushes, unused paint, and packages of clay. you play with the brushes, tapping them like drumsticks, then acting out spells from harry potter, and whatnot. until you decide to dim that little spark of dignity you had left.

you glance at hongjoong again, who still sits on the stool and has made progress on the painting. you flip your skirt over, and move your panties aside. using the soft part of the brush, you glide it over your clit, and shudder at the feeling. he stops for a moment, and you hurriedly put the skirt back in place. he doesn't spare you a glance, but simply takes a sip of wine. when he returns to his work, you also return to yours.

your hand reaches for one of the pillows, and gets trapped under your teeth as your other hand continues teasing you with the soft brush. you bite into the poor pillow, tug it and arch your back, all while pleasuring yourself with kim hongjoong's brushes, on his couch, right behind his back. you go painfully slow, as to not make too much noise. you're driving yourself crazy, and you can't help but imagine what wonders he could do to you if he just turned around.

so close to reaching the release, you close your eyes, and throw your head back further, still in the upside down position. the brush works faster, the soft bristles gently but fast brushing against your swollen clit, caressing your nerves just right. so damn close, just a tad bit more, and-

"put that down."

like frost, his voice makes all the heat and lust disappear from your body. you sit still, eyes still closed, hoping that he will just disappear if you do so. that you will get yourself out of the awkward situation.

"i said..." you hear footsteps, and before you can actually listen to him, he grabs you by your jaw again, forcing you to look at him, "...put. that. down."

his eyes are stone cold, eyebrows furrowed. you gulp, feeling so small and miserable under his gaze.

"now."

your hand drops the brush on the couch, then fixes the skirt. you try to sit up straight, but hongjoong's grip on your face is strong. you stay still, waiting for the scolding to begin. you're terrified, you want to disappear. you want to drown in that bucket of paint that sits next to his stool, and never resurface again.

"what the hell do i do with you? first you hate me, then you like me, then you avoid me. now, you ride my painting brushes? how am i supposed to approach this?"

you don't try to speak. you don't trust yourself with words. you can only sound pathetic, begging for forgiveness again. so you decide to keep your mouth shut and let him be disappointed in you. he breaks eye-contact with you, only to have a sip of his wine which he brought over to the couch. he keeps it in his hand, eyes locked on you again. his thumb caresses your bottom lip, while his eyes roam the state of your body. your chest still rises and falls quickly, coming down from an orgasm denial. flushed cheeks, sweaty forehead with hair sticking to it, almost drool covered pillow with bite marks, and your arousal on his brushes and couch.

hongjoong breathes out his nose, a glint visible in his eyes.

"open up." he says, voice raspy and eyes softened.

you do as he says, opening your mouth until his thumb can comfortably sit in it. he massages your tongue, circling it and playing with it. he takes another sip of the dark liquid, then looks at you with that glint again. he removes his thumb, only to bring his head closer and pour the liquid from his mouth into yours. you swallow it without hesitation, too mesmerized and aroused by the situation. never in your life did you think that drinking from someone else's mouth was going to make you almost orgasm.

"good girl," he praises, voice barely a whisper in the silent cabin.

he downs the rest of it, then throws it on the floor aside. the glass cracking makes you twitch, but he is quick to hush you and caress your cheek.

"s-sir-" you finally speak, not even sure what you want to say.

"yes?" the man replies.

"i- i should-" you stutter, trying to come up with anything that will get you out of there, "i should go."

hongjoong raises an eyebrow, believing your words as much as you believe them. his hands fumble with the zipper of his slacks. then, he takes the pillow you had just used and gently puts it under your head.

"comfy?"

"yes...?" you say, confused.

"good."

through the opening of his pants, he pulls himself out, wasting no time in giving it a few slow strokes. your mouth waters at the sight, even if it is upside down. his hard, thick cock leaks above your head, ready to be licked clean.

"open up for me, princess."

you shudder at the nickname, and at the way he gently holds your head so that it is aligned with his cock. you open your mouth once again, slightly sticking your tongue out for him. the man presses the tip against your lips, coating them in pre-cum before pushing past them. he grunts, placing both of his hands on your cheeks to hold your head still. the warm muscle glides against your tongue, kissing the back of your neck. you can't help but imagine how it would glide inside of you, slowly, or fast, gently, or hard. you'll take anything he gives you.

"relax your throat, baby." his voice is raspy and quiet in your ears.

you do as told, trying your best to relax it. as soon as you do, hongjoong seems to lose himself a bit. he slams his hips forwards, the tip of his cock touching the back of your throat and making you gag around him. tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but you don't let them. his hand then reaches over to your skirt, flipping it over and exposing your drenched panties still pulled aside.

his fingers find your entrance without teasing, and he dips his finger in so easily. your walls squelch around him, arousal flooding and coating his digits. due to the position you're in, his rough fingers rub your spongy wall exactly how you need it. you squirm under his touch, feeling overstimulated even though you haven't orgasmed yet. he adds two more fingers, stuffing you almost to the brim. you're full of him, in both holes, and a whiny and squirming mess.

he abuses your mouth, admiring the outline of his cock on your neck.

"rub your pretty clit for me, princess."

hesitantly, your fingers find your swollen clit, rubbing it in circles and guiding yourself closer to an orgasm. hongjoong's fingers are restless in your hole, pumping in and out, making you moan and whine around his cock. the vibrations must feel good for him, because he throws his head back and groans. entirely lost in the pleasure of your tight mouth against him, he can't help but slam his hips harder and faster, and his fingers start matching the rythym.

you try to beg, but all the words are muffled by his equally abused cock.

"what was that, pretty girl?" he looks down at you, pure ecstasy on his face.

"please-" you somehow manage to say it.

"please? do you know what you're begging for?"

you shake your head. you don't, truly. begging for him to speed up? to slow down? to make you orgasm? or not? you have no idea. you just beg him, to give you everything he has to offer.

the moment is shattered when your phone rings, the word dad on the screen making your stomach turn. hongjoong stops, giving you a moment to collect yourself before handing you the phone. he helps you sit up straight, putting a pillow under you so that you are comfortable. you take a deep breath, who knows which one in the row that day. hongjoong caresses your cheek, as if he wasn't deep inside you both ways just seconds ago. charming, he'd say.

"hello?" you answer the phone.

"hey, kid. did you deliver those things to hongjoong?"

"yes, dad."

"great! i was thinking about inviting him for dinner tomorrow. wanna come and help me?"

"sure thing."

"i was thinking steak, with that whiskey sauce you make..."

you are no longer paying attention, because hongjoong is on his knees in front of the couch. he gently spreads your legs, and looks at you with a mischievous look. you shake your head silently, asking him to not do anything. but all falls in water when hongjoong licks a stripe up your slit and you shake under his touch. your legs close reflexively, but the older man is quick to hold your thighs in place as he devours you on his couch. he makes out with your folds, as if he is kissing your real lips. his tongue teases the tip of your clit, spinning it in circles. he sucks it, tugs it and rubs it, all the things that have your fingers grasping his hair and pulling mercilessly.

his fingers find their way inside you again, curling up so that you get maximum pleasure. a whine escapes your lips, and hongjoong stops everything he is doing. you beg him with your eyes not to stop. you can't go home empty handed. but the man only puts his hand over your mouth, and ever so slowly, slides inside of you. you swallow him so easily, arousal leaking all over him and his couch.

"dad, i really have to-" you gasp, feeling his cock brushing against your sweet spot, "i have to go."

"oh? alright then. so, tomorrow?"

hongjoong grabs your waist, not moving his own hips, but instead slamming your body on his cock and bruising your skin with his strong grip. his hair falls over his eyes, loose strands perfectly decorating his face painted with pure pleasure.

"huh? yes, yes! tomorrow. okay, see you!"

you've never ended a call so fast, and you've never thrown your phone so far away.

"don't hold back, darling. let me hear you."

and that's when you let go. you grip his shoulders, moan into his ear, whine, squirm, whatnot. you certainly don't make it easy for him.

"for an old pervert, you sure are having the time of your life." he teases.

you try glaring at him, but you can barely keep your head up. "just fuck me, please."

"you finally know what you're begging for. only you're not asking properly."

"pretty please?"

"no, you can do better."

you think hard, defocusing from the orgasm chasing for a moment. then, it clicks.

"please, daddy."

hongjoong chuckles happily, and snaps his hips harder into you. "that's a good girl."

something about having sex with clothes on drove you crazy, especially since hongjoong was in his natural habitat and clothing. it pushes you over the edge, seeing him brush his hair back and looking at you with such lust. you're shaking harder than ever, clear liquid squirting out of you and all over him and his furniture. you're in shock, trying to reach your breath, while hongjoong still sloppily fucks his cum into you.

he grunts and hums against your lips, not yet kissing you. which you suddenly find very frustrating.

"you should shit on my art more often, eh?"

with a laugh, you try to cover yourself with the blanket. but hongjoong takes it from your hand, then uses it to wipe the liquid off your body. he tosses it aside, then reaches for his own coat to give it to you. hesitantly, you take it. as you put it on, hongjoong examines your face for any traces of regret. when he sees none, he smiles fondly at you, pressing his lips on top of your hand, just like that night.

"you're a very pretty young woman, you know that?"

"thanks," you say awkwardly.

"you wanted to kiss me, i know. but..."

you roll your eyes, acting unphased.

"...i don't think i'm ready yet."

"you just rearranged my guts, and a kiss is a problem for you?"

he laughs, but not because it's funny, but because you are right. he helps you lay down on the couch, then covers you with the spare blanket. "we'll get there, pretty. right now, i want you to take a power nap before i take you home. got it?"

"got it, sir."

"good girl."

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year

Note

I love your writing!! Could you do a short 1 or 2 part fiction based on this prompt: a highborn girl is to become Aemond's wife but she is a mute. Her other senses are well even though she isn't able to speak. She is youngest in her family and is extremely shy. No fiery bone in her body. Alicent coaxes her son into being betrothed to her due to Alicent having issues with high-born ladies not wanting to marry the prince due to his eye missing and his tendency to have a temper. They bond over reading and Aemond is enthralled with her beauty. Also Aemond never is a kinslayer in this story lol. Thank you!

Her Voice

Summary: You are introduced with the prince as his second option for a marriage in your family. But how will the Prince react to you own affliction | Mini-Series Masterlist

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

A/N: I changed the request up a little and it's strange that I got this ask because I do actually have a stutter myself that was debilitating growing up, so I tried to shoehorn some feelings that I felt myself into this character, but hopefully I still did it justice (and I made it more about her intelligence cos I think Aemond would find that hot)?

Thank you for the request anon! Also thank you all for your love and comments I really love them! I can’t comment on them since this is a side-blog, but I appreciate you all!

Warnings: none, just fluff, Aegon being Aegon

"Do you think that any highborn woman with a brain between her eyes would desire to spend the rest of her life with a tempestuous prince?"

Alicent was circling the room, hands smoothing over one another to keep herself calm, doing this in exchange of picking at her fingernails, which her father hated. And with Otto sat brooding in the corner of the room, Alicent chose her actions wisely.

Aemond barely resisted the urge to roll his eye, one hand rested on one side of his face, disinterested. Another reprimand for his temper, his behaviour. He didn't realise his mother had it in her to keep on doing this for so long, especially after having a son like Aegon. But even then, her solution had been to marry him to his sister, and it was clear how well that ended. And how Aegon's actions persisted.

"Perhaps if they were not so empty-headed they would know to leave me be"

"Like it or not, you will be wed" Otto butted in, resulting in Aemond sending an annoyed glare, "It has been difficult enough to introduce ladies to you"

"Because they think me a monster" Aemond retorted, one hand gripping the arm of the chair beside him. His mother was still pacing around, a million thoughts banging around in her brain, working endlessly on how to resolve this. In truth, he did not enjoy seeing his mother in such distress and his heart to see her in this way more often than not.

"That is not true, Aemond" Alicent's voice was soft, as if he were still a child.

"True enough that it whispers through the court"

"A marriage and children with her would mean security in the Reach" Otto said simply. His mind forever focussed on matters political and never of the heart. Alicent was proof of this and at this quip, Aemond could see the discomfort it bought her.

"I do not wish to marry that loud-mouthed half-wit"

Every time Aemond protested, he could see his mother begin pacing around the room once more.

"At this rate, half the ladies in Westeros will have met that beast before you"

Aemond extended a hand out with a sigh, "It is no fault of mine that she is scared of Vhagar"

"It nearly landed on top of her, Aemond!" Alicent begged out and Aemond genuinely had to hold back a smile as he imagined Vhagar pinning the girls dress to the ground with her large claw. It had scared the girl stiff and her loud-mouthed was quickly stiffened from the presence of the largest dragon in the world before her. Her face pale as a sheet.

"Vhagar did not like her" he simply responded.

A moment passed in silence and Aemond nearly stood to leave when Alicent crossed her arms, her warm, brown eyes trained at her second son. Half in pride and half in scolding.

"There is of course, another choice" Alicent suggested quietly, taking a side glance at her father.

Now stood before his mother, seeing over her easily, he placed his arms behind his back, a brow was arched in not only question but anxiety at her suggestion.

"She has a younger sister, only half a year younger than you"

Aemond scoffed, "This is desperation"

"It is a suggestion" Alicent corrected. In front of her son, she seemed so small as she took his large hand in both of hers, her rings clicking together to rub her fingers over his skin, "See how you feel"

With a sigh, he took his leave.

There was no harm in trying.

The days seemed to pass the slowest and the Prince busied himself as he usually did, performing his duties. He trained with Ser Criston, he read books on various subjects and he rode on Vhagar in an attempt to tame this temper his mother so wanted gone. One that she thought would be solved by marriage.

But one insufferable thing he could never escape from, was court gossip.

It seemed so rampant and neverending that he wondered if the ladies ever did anything else.

On more than one occasion he heard the ladies talk in hushed whispers when he walked by.

"I heard his dragon almost ate her"

"I do not see what woman would want a man who looks like that"

"I think he looks rather handsome with it"

"Yes, but he has a quarrelsome temper. Blood of the dragon indeed"

"I heard her little sister is to join the court. His dragon may actually swallow her whole with any luck"

"She is a hollow little fool. I heard she has not spoken a word since she was a babe"

He knew better than to listen to any of it. But it seemed to impregnate the walls of the Keep, like a smell that won't go away. Slowly seeping out of the stone to skulk in heavy plunders of smoke across their feet. It smelled of deception and the feeling was so heavy, it was almost liquid.

Like oily blood.

He had barely paid attention to his mother as they all lined up outside the Keep, anticipating the sister's arrival. The older sister had been closest to the dirt road, wanting to see her siblings and father before anyone else. The Royals were all standing shoulder to shoulder at the top of the stone steps, Aemond's eye trained forwards, not focussed on anything in particular. Aegon wishing he were somewhere else, preferably at the end of a barrel of Dornish wine. And Helaena, whose gaze never found anyone's, staring at the ground, watching the ants disappear beneath her slipper.

Alicent almost jumped out of her skin as the lady screamed in delight seeing the familiar colours of her house on the side of the carriage, pulling up to a stop. Aemond's chest inflated and he tightened his grip behind his back, bracing for the undoubtedly emotionally painful exchange he was about to have.

The carriage door flung open and two brothers emerged, clearly a lot older than the sister had been, but nonetheless they scooped her up into a hug. Aemond raised an eyebrow and dared look over at his own brother, who was smiling back at him already, as if suggesting they should hug like that. And at this Aemond did roll his eye.

The three siblings were stuck like this for a moment, talking over and amongst each other like a clutter of turkeys and it was impossible to tell what they were actually saying. The father eventually found his footing outside the carriage, a small figure following small behind him, head lowered. The older sister wrapped her arms around her father's neck but she was quickly pushed away, and not a single one of them seemed to address the youngest, who blindly followed her father.

"Queen Alicent" the father addressed, taking her hand in his to kiss at the ring.

"My Lord, how nice it is to see you and your…family again" she swallowed her words and her roundabout manner made Aegon smile somewhat.

"And you, your Grace. I hope my daughter has been a grateful guest"

There was a faint echo in the background of her horrific laugh, the father closed his eyes slowly, bracing himself for the sound of it.

Alicent merely smiled, "I understand we are to receive your other daughter"

The father stepped aside, but the figure still remained relatively hidden, "Yes, although she is the slowest of my daughters, your Grace. She…finds it difficult to speak"

The father looked behind him again and gripped his other daughter's arm and Aemond noted how hard he held her, so much so that when he tore away the marks remained. And he wondered if he was so rough with his other daughter, the one he thought was the grace of his house.

The girl was presented before Alicent. Yes she shared features with her sister, but hers were much were smoothed out. Her sister, while sharp featured and cheeks plump, her eyes were too close together and her nose seemed unfit for her face. This sister however, her cheekbones were higher and eyes were almond-shaped and she had a faint mole next to her eye on one side.

Her eyes briefly met Alicent's and sent a small smile and a curtsy, doing the same to the Princes and Princess, but never really meeting any of their gazes directly.

"Your Grace, my youngest"

Aemond almost scoffed, he didn't even have the decency to address her by her birth name.

"As I say, your Grace, she is quite slow but her mind is nimble, her other senses remain…unaffected"

All the young woman could do was listen to her father's cruel words about her, her hands were clasped in front of her, one finger fiddling with a golden ring that was on a forefinger. Aemond's gaze raked over her form, the dress she wore just being a bit too tight and he wondered if it might have been in her ownership for a while and had grown too big for it. This made her chest swell against the fabric and her could not help but admire the way she fit into it as she inhaled and exhaled, the golden necklace against her chest moving as well.

It was as if she could feel his burning eye on her and her hand raised to her necklace to turn the pendant over, her gaze briefly meeting the one-eyed Prince's before her cheeks became flushed and averted instantly. In a strange turn of events, it made Aemond smirk, knowing that someone would blush in his presence.

"If you'd like to follow me, I can introduce you to the King" Alicent stepped side to side with her father, "Perhaps your children might amuse themselves"

Her father turned to face his children, a haggard expression on his face, "Make yourselves scarce"

The young woman merely watched as her siblings waltzed away without her, no doubt to drown themselves in drink. And she stood for a moment watching them enjoy themselves before feeling a hand grasp her elbow to find Aegon's face close to hers. She made a surprised sound.

"Extraordinary" he murmured, pulling the poor thing to walk with him, "How much I would give to have a woman who did not speak back"

She attempts to push herself away, but he was much stronger.

"I bet that mouth is as disgusting as those whores on the Street of Silk"

A hand clamped at Aegon's shoulder, shoving him away and the woman looked back to find Aemond parting the two with his body, a hand brushing against her arm to place her behind him.

"Brother, I do not think she desires your company"

With a focussed eye zoned in on his brother, Aemond failed to notice that she had himself wrapped his hand around her wrist. A wave of heat rose to her face s she looked down and saw how his large fingers easily took her, feeling the sheer body heat of the Prince next to her, so much so that she was able to smell the various musks that had attached themselves to him. A faint smell of leather from his clothes, whatever he used for his long, illustrious hair and then something akin to being around an animal. Was this what dragon smelled like? She wondered if he had been riding before meeting her family.

His touch was easily softer than Aegon's grip had been, and for this she was grateful. He had been the first man to lay a hand on her that had not been forceful. The brothers continued to bicker.

"She is not deaf, Aegon. She can hear you"

"Deaf or not, she is a simpleton. If you are to marry her, do yourself a favour and find comfort in others, as I do"

All the blood seemed to rush to your ears in embarrassment and you tore your wrist away from the prince, turning swiftly on your heel in the other direction, away from the harsh words you had unfortunately become accustomed to. Your steps were swift as you heard Aegon cackle with laughter, but you did not see Aemond's saddened stare bore into your back.

With a book clutched longingly to your chest and the echoes of your already drunken siblings echoing down the halls, you pushed a hand to the library door, finding comfort in the quiet of this room in the chaos that was the Red Keep.

It had of course, not been your first time here. You had accompanied your sister on her journey many moons ago, and even then you felt the stares of those at the court boring into you like a flame. The hushed whispers of those were not lost on you, perhaps they also thought you were deaf. But it didn’t matter. You heard the horrible things the ladies said about you and equally, the awful things the men said as well. Although some of those had been about other matters.

Contrary to popular belief, you were not entirely mute. A lot of it was purely by choice. And you had become accustomed to the silence, for simply trying to speak, becoming out of breath and tight about the chest, gave you more anxiety than simply saying nothing at all.

You sighed in relief, finding the library completely empty and almost just how you had left it all those months ago, when you had come here for relief after your sister had accustomed herself to the ladies.

The book, which you had been in the middle of reading last time you were here, was still perched on top of the fireplace in the heart of the room, with a piece of paper sticking out in the spot where you had been rudely torn away. Your hand grazed over the cover, feeling all the intricacies of the people who may have read it before you. The spine was slightly worn away, and the fabric that coated the front page was discoloured. But it was the book smell that enticed you so and you opened where you were to bring to the pages to your face.

It smelled like home. Like a solitary childhood.

It reminded you of who you were.

Someone so disenchanted with life that they would lose themselves in books, fiction or not.

You lifted your skirts, inhaling sharply as the corseted part of the gown dug into you for being too small. Your father refused the request for new dresses, so you had to make do. After all, it was your older sister who was supposed to be enamouring the Prince, not you. So what need was there for fine dresses.

The chair hugged you, its fabric arms tucking you in like a bed and you laid the book before you to pick up where you had left off, the only sound in the room being the flickering of some candles and the uncomfortable sound of your finger tracing the next page.

You had been so interested in your book, the large oak doors opened without a reaction from you.

"I know you are not deaf, my Lady"

The voice startled you, and your head popped round the back of the chair to see the Prince standing closely, smirking and arms tucked behind him. A surprised sound left you as you stood, the book that had been placed on your lap hurtling to the floor as well as a small notebook you had been clutching. Your cursed yourself for the clumsiness but offered him a curtsy all the same before bending to retrieve the books.

He seemed to move too quickly for his stature and had his hand flat on the book before you had even reached out. Turning it over he smiled, bringing the book with him stand,

"Ah, so it was you"

You grasped the small notebook in your hand and stood to meet his gaze, eyes slightly wide with fear. As if he had caught you in his grasp.

He let out a small laugh, which seemed uncharacteristic for him, "Do not worry. I merely found it"

He placed the book down on the table and looked back at her. Even though he had one eye, it seemed to rake over her for an eternity before returning to her face.

"Are you afraid, my Lady?" he asked, still smirking.

Realising that she had been gawking, gripping onto her notebook, she shook her head. He seemed satisfied with the answer, only offering a 'Hm' in response as he began pacing the space around her.

"I may have limited vision, but I can see you are not afraid of me"

His back was facing you now, and with his eye not trained on you, you took the opportunity to study him and his form for a moment.

He was tall and his long silver hair trailed over his back, thick and straight. He certainly had that air of intimidation behind him and seemed to dress as such to scare people. In thick black leather with clasps, he almost looked imprisoned in his own clothes, straining against them. All this study of his form made you look down at yourself, wondering what he thought of you. The small woman without a voice, dressed in the clothes she was made several years ago.

"Your sister says I have a temper" he started, turning slowly to meet your gaze. He studied the way the candles flickered washes of amber and yellowish hues onto the side of your face, bringing the flush of your face out even more. How the flames bounced off the colour of your eyes. He wondered; how could someone be so expressive with simply their gaze.

He could not explain it, but you seemed content in the silence between you.

Slowly, as if movement would trigger the man, you opened the small notebook you carried with you, using the strip of charcoal to scribble something down. Aemond smirked seeing how concentrated you looked staring at the pages, how the line in between your eyebrows popped out slightly as you wrote.

You passed him the notebook, pointing at the page. He handled the book with such care that is astonished you, the way his fingers grasped it, there was a sensitivity to it. You swallowed your breath as his eye ran over the page all too slowly.

I do not know you well, but I have seen no temper.

Without moving an inch, his eye met you again and for a moment you worried you had said something wrong. But he softly handed the notebook back to you, watching your every move.

"Is this how you communicate?" he asked genuinely.

You nodded, as if embarrassed. Thinking of something to write down, you quickly flipped to a new page.

He accepted the notebook again once you had done, looking significantly more nervous this time, the charcoal rubbing black on your fingers.

I hope that the suggestion of our marriage does not embarrass you. If it is to be, I will be an amenable wife.

Aemond read the words on the page a few times, each time saddening him more so than the last. He saw how you fumbled with the charcoal, eyes averted, afraid of his reaction. He sighed so quietly that you did not hear it and only looked up once again when he handed the notebook back to you.

The words seemed to sincere, it bought a pain to his heart to see you think such things.

"Do not reduce yourself to such a thing" he said. But you did not look up.

There was a pregnant pause between you both as he regarded you.

"You are not entirely mute, are you"

You shook your head at his question, he winced at the painful look on your face. Immediately scribbling something down, faster this time.

It is sometimes better not to say anything at all.

Aemond nodded at this, "It is good advice, perhaps it can be bestowed on some within the court"

At this genuinely unexpected quip, you looked up at him letting a laugh escape you, hand immediately coming to your face to hide the smile that bubbled there.

It surprised you how quickly his eyes lit up upon hearing your voice. You could not help but look at him as he smiled before you, your cheeks firing up with embarrassment and you cleared your throat almost immediately, trying to dispel the air.

"You have a lovely voice" he said. It was here that you realised you were still smiling, eyes on his face, trying to find any signs of deception. For a second, you opened your mouth, tempted to say something. But the confidence quickly died as a block constricted your throat and the breath was expelled, but you nodded anyway, in thanks.

Do you read?

He nodded, gesturing to the book you had been reading, now reserved to the side table, all but forgotten.

"I do. I come here often" he said quietly, pacing about again.

You could no longer hide the way you looked at him. Your sister had said he was quick to rise and that she had been scared stiff at the interactions with him, that he had given her no notion of acceptance or equality. She spoke like he thought he was above everyone else.

But this was not the person you saw before you. Before you was some so soft spoken, you could barely hear him most of the time. Someone who enjoyed the serenity of a quiet library with the only sound being the flickering of the candles and the rain hitting the stone walls outside. You envisioned him being the only one to people-watch at parties, not amusing himself with the prospect of dancing. And perhaps not entertaining the thought of speaking to a woman directly.

"I come here when people like your sister remark on my tempestuous nature. Solitude is the only remedy for it" he paused looking over at you, "I imagine it is the same for you"

You scribbled something down, meeting his gaze when you handed it over.

Perhaps it is just that we are misunderstood. Solitude offers comfort.

A smile tugged at his lips once more and he thought that this is the most he had smiled in a long time.

"And books, it seems"

You nod genuinely, your eyes lighting up with an idea. Placing the notebook to one side, you rush past the Prince, giving him an opportune moment to feel the fabric of your skirts pass his thigh and the whips of your hair drag across the leather of his arm, releasing their scent. And with his eyes closed, he relished in these perfumes.

He allowed himself to think about what it would be like to live in that scent. To have it around him.

You placed a book in his hand, looking up at him excitedly. His long fingers grazed over the cover, admiring the gold leaf applied to it.

"Is this your favourite?" he asked, noting how close you remained after placing the book in his hand, though this you had not realised yet. You nodded, smiling as he opened the cover page to inspect the contents. A book he had not read.

He squinted at the pages, confused and looked back at you, barely needing to move his head since he was so tall.

"You can read this?" he asked. Ever humble, you shrugged your shoulders, "This is Valyrian" he sounded almost as if he did not believe you.

But you had read enough books for a lifetime already and you intended to prove to the Prince that what you were implying was truth.

Taking a deep breath, you lean forward and point to a word in Valyrian, inspecting the swirling text upside down. It had been a page right in the middle, telling the history of Aegon the Conqueror's mission to the Riverlands.

"…i-istan…hae…" you took another breath, not meeting the Prince's eye, nervous that if you did all confidence would surely die, "…darys…"

"…dārys" Aemond softly corrected. You could not help but look up at him now, the eye that had been filled with mischief and confidence, now had something else there. You licked your lips and motioned for him to repeat what he has said so you might copy, "dārys…"

"…dārys…h-he….he…" you struggled on the 'h' sounds of the next words, so paused to gather your breath and push past the newly developing blocks. But the Prince waited patiently, more enamoured at the fact that you were attempting to speak before him and that this was possibly the most you had said to anyone in months, perhaps years.

The mere sound of your own voice surprised you, but concentrated on finishing the sentence, you licked your lips once again in concentration. Aemond almost laughed as the line between your eyebrows returned, "…hen ry…vest, vesteros…o-o…" you sighed at yourself, frustrated. The words beginning with vowels were always the hardest.

"…ondoso…" you managed, pushing past the breath quickly and it was the loudest word you spoke in the whole sentence. It felt clumsy and wrong, but if you had looked ahead, you would have seen the hooded look of Aemond looking down at you, mouthing along with you in silent appreciation.

"…rhaenys…" you finished, looking up at the prince. He closed the book and repeated the word back at you but with the trilled 'r' that was difficult for many to pronounce. You smiled, fiddling with your hair, only now realising how close you were to him so you were able to read the book.

You stepped back, suddenly feeling embarrassed and hot. As if you'd been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

"Very good" he said. The smile on your face was difficult to keep at bay and he placed the book to one side, "It is not an easy language to learn. From books?" he asked, to which you nodded.

You were grateful he did not mention anything about your slowness, about the stumbling over the words. He simply complimented your ability to even read and speak any Valyrian and that was all you wanted from him.

You scribbled down.

Perhaps you could teach me how to pronounce it properly.

"I would enjoy that, my Lady" he stepped forward to give you the notebook back, only to keep a hold on it when you tried to take it. His other hand laid on top of hers and all of a sudden, it all felt so real.

You could feel his fingers rub over yours with a strangely soft touch and all the heat rose to your face again.

"It is a brave thing, to show yourself to someone" he said, looking down at you, "Someday, I hope to do the same for you" he said quietly.

You flicked from one of his eyes to his eyepatch, knowing that this was the source of his own pain. All the things the ladies and your sister had said about this man. Saying he was monstrous, tempestuous and someone to fear. It was clear that these people just did not know him.

"Being with you is like being alone" he said quietly, almost to say it to himself.

Your other hand came to his arm, hand smoothing over the soft leather, reaching out to touch him to see if he was real. Your smaller hands barely came around his arm but you squeezed it, offering whatever comfort you could.

At his words, you nodded in agreement, and he could see the sincerity in your eyes. Perhaps he merely wanted to be understood, like everyone would like, but something that people like yourselves was difficult to find.

Dropping the notebook, the charcoal fell to the ground and snapped in two and before Aemond could open his mouth to question, you laid your head against his chest, hearing and feeling his heartbeat through the thick leathers.

He stood stock still for a moment, hands suspended in the warm air around you until he carefully laid them on your shoulders, pulling the hair over your shoulder. And for a moment he could not tell if he was greatly confused, shocked, horrified or comforted by the feeling.

A shudder rattled down your back as you felt his chin rest on top of your head.

"Kirimvose" he whispered, making a burst of air leave you with a laugh. It sounded mildly forced, and it warmed your chest in a way that bloomed across your whole body, knowing now that despite his discomfort, he had said it.

Thank you.

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oosleepyfaeoo · 1 month

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A Kiss Is All I Need

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Chapter One

Summary: 2 months ago, Alys, the love of his life, broke up with him. Their relationship of five years gone by a simple farewell note that she left on their, well now his, penthouse. 2 months crying and feeling like shit but that all stopped when he meet you on that dreadful clothing store.

Warnings: Some angst, Aegon being the wingman, she/her pronouns, slow burn, eventual smut

Words: 2k

Masterlist

A/N: English is not my main language so i apologize for bad grammar but i hope you still like it! Feel free to reblog and comment! It would make me really happy to know you guys thoughts (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

“Seriously, Aemond. Relax a little.” Aegon drawls, eyeing his little brother carefully.

Aemond stood beside his brother, tense as a rock, contemplating his surroundings while his long pale fingers toy with his old, stained t-shirt. They currently stood in the middle of the clothing store, waiting for their sister Helaena while she chose some new and clean clothes for Aemond.

His siblings finally, after a month of rotting in his penthouse, dragged him out of the house to get some fresh air and apparently, some new clothes.

Aemond just shot his brother a glare and continued nervously toying with his t-shirt. Aegon rolls his eyes. “She did a number on you, didn’t she?” He says with a small frown.

2 months ago, Alys, the love of his life, broke up with him. Their relationship of five years gone by a simple farewell note that she left on their, well now his, penthouse. He still remembers how his heart beat so fast against his ribcages while he searched the whole house for her, noticing that all her clothes and jewelry (which he gifted to her) were gone.

He met her at one of his family company parties. Alys was the secretary of Lyonel Strong. Aemond was completely in awe with her when his eye landed on her, the way she moved so gracefully, and how her green eyes sparkled with mischief and wisdom.

When they made their relationship public, it was quite a shock for everyone, especially his mother. He was 23 and she was 35 at the time which was entirely understandable since they had a big age gap, twelve years to be precise.

“I don’t want to talk about her.” Aemond murmurs, trying his hardest to not think about Alys.

Aegon sighs and wraps his arm around his brother's shoulders. “I know you don’t... But try to loosen up a little.” He looks at Aemond worriedly. “Everyone is worried about you... Seven Hells, even Jace, and Luke are worried-”

Aemond looked down with a frown when suddenly he felt a gentle pull on his jeans. By his feet was a little girl dressed in a princess costume, full of pink and sparkly glitter. Her black hair hangs in two cute pigtails and a small simple tiara on top of her head.

The child looks carefully at Aemond, her eyes fixed on his eyepatch. “Are you a pirate?” She asks with an excited grin, her big round eyes shining in mischief.

Aegon burst out laughing while Aemond just stood there, looking down at the small girl in shock.

She huffs in annoyance and pulls the fabric of his jeans again. “Well?”

Noticing that Aemond does not intend to answer the poor girl, Aegon kneels beside the girl and gives her a kind smile.

“Sorry kid but he’s no pirate.” His answer made the girl frown in disappointment. “But he’s a Prince!” Now that made her look at Aemond in surprise and then back at Aegon, eyeing carefully.

“If he’s a Prince then why he doesn't smile?” She asks.

That pierce a little Aemond’s heart. Kneeling, he grabbed her small hand and gave her a small smile. “I’m sad... So that’s why I don’t smile much, little Princess.”

The girl giggles at her nickname but quickly disappears as she frowns, looking into his eye intensely. Then she took a step forward, placed her tiny hands on his cheeks, and kissed the point of his nose. Aemond stood very still, his eye wide in surprise at the girl's gesture.

She pulls back and smiles in excitement. “There! A kiss always pushes the sadness away!” The girl says proudly. “My mommy always kisses me whenever I'm sad or hurt.”

//// \\\\

“Em!” You call while looking everywhere in the clothing store for your daughter. “Emily! Where are you?!”

You can’t take that girl anywhere without getting a panic attack. You love to the death, she was your sun and moon but sometimes you wish that your daughter wasn't so adventurous. You were finishing a client order when you noticed your daughter leaving the bakery and running into the clothing store right in front. This made you leave everything that you were doing and run after her.

Sighing in relief, you spot her by the men's section talking to 2 silver-headed men. “Emily!” You breathe out as you kneel and pull her into a hug. “Don’t you ever disappear on me again! Mommy’s heart can’t handle any more surprise adventures.”

Your daughter grins at you and points to the man with an eyepatch. “Mommy I found a Prince!” She says excitedly. “Don’t worry, he’s not a pirate.” She whispers that part to you which makes you chuckle.

You stood up, holding Emily in your arms. “I’m so sorry. I hope my daughter didn’t bother you too much.” You apologize.

The handsome eyepatch man stood still looking down at you. A light blush appears on your face as you study his face properly. He was tall, really tall, with beautiful silky long silver hair that was loosely braided. His features were sharp which made him even more attractive. His eye was colored in a lovely ice blue shade with a hint of light purple. A black eyepatch covers his other eye, and you notice a long scar coming out of it down to his cheek. He was dressed in a simple green t-shirt (which seems to have seen better days) some black jeans, and black Doctor Martens.

He seemed nervous as he began playing with his fingers. “Huh... It’s no problem. Your daughter is a very sweet child.” he smiles softly.

“Mommy! Mommy! The Prince was sad so I kissed his nose like you do to me when I'm sad or hurt. And now he’s happy!” Emily giggles while resting her head on your shoulder.

“That’s very sweet of you, Em... But you can’t go wander off and kiss strangers.” You sigh while giving an apologetic look to the silver-headed man. “You know that while mommy is working, you need to stay with Maria.”

Emily rolls her eyes and pouts. “Ugh, but Maria is boring! She stays in front of the computer all day and does nothing... I much prefer staying at home, at least I could play with Pumpkin.”

You adjust her tiara on her head and kiss her forehead gently. “I know but I can’t let you be at home alone, sweetheart.”

While you scold your daughter, trying to convince her to stay with your employee. Aegon stays silent studying the scene before him. He had noticed how Aemond suddenly couldn’t take his eye off you or how his pale cheeks suddenly turned pink when you smiled gently at him.

Aegon also noticed you eyeing his little brother which made him grin mischiefly. Oh, he had a plan forming in his head. A BIG plan.

“Excuse me, I don’t mean to intrude but it seems you are in need of a babysitter for this lovely Princess,” Aegon says while smiling at Emily who grins at him. He wraps his arm around Aemond’s shoulders and pulls him to his side. “My baby brother, Aemond, is in need of a job and he’s great with kids. He usually babysits our nephews. So, he knows how to take care of children.”

Aemond shot Aegon a glare and opened his lips to disagree with whatever his brother had in mind, but Aegon just smiled at him and stepped on his foot to silence him.

“So, what do you think?” Aegon grins down at you.

You frown gently. It’s true that you seriously needed a babysitter for Emily, but you don’t have time to look for one since being a single mother and owning a bakery occupy your days. Also, it’s hard to trust a stranger to look after your kid. Your friend, Nat, tried to convince you to hire a babysitter after Emily turned one year old but you quickly refused, saying that you could perfectly manage taking care of Emily and your business alone.

Oh boy, how wrong you were. Since Emily started walking, your life has been a nightmare. She was like a ninja. One minute she was there and the next, she was gone. Every day you would have to run off from your work to go find her. She loves exploring and she makes sure you know that, every, single, day.

Maybe Nat is right.

“Okay,” You sigh. Aegon clapped in victory and smiled at his brother. “But I will be needing an interview with Aemond. To see if he has the training that is needed to look after a child.”

“Of course! When?” Aegon asked while Aemond just stood there petrified.

“Tomorrow at 2 pm.” You took your business card and gave it to Aemond. “You will find me in my bakery shop. It’s right in front of this store.”

Aemond nodded and took your card. “Thank you... I’ll be there.”

You smile gently and say your goodbyes, taking Emily back to your shop. “Bye Bye Prince!” The girl waved to him with a toothless smile which made Aemond smile gently and wave back.

When you and Emily are out of the clothing store, Aemond turns to his brother and slaps roughly on his shoulder. “What in the actual fuck was that, Aegon?!” He growled.

Aegon hissed in pain and pouted. “Ouch!... Is this how you thank your big brother for getting you a date with that hot girl?!”

Aemond rolls his eye. “By making me a babysitter?” He sighs. “Look Aegon, I'm not ready to be with someone yet... Also, did you not think that maybe she has a husband?”

Aegon grins at him. “No ring on her finger so she’s probably single. And you are more than ready to be with someone... It’s been two months since you and Alys broke up, you had your time weep and now it’s time to go back into action.”

Helaena pops beside Aegon with her arms full of clothes that she chooses for Aemond. “Our little brother has a date tomorrow!” Aegon claps excitedly.

Helaena gasps in surprise and then looks back to the clothes in her arms and back to Aemond, frowning gently. “We need more clothes.” She whispers while going back into the clothing store with Aegon on her trail.

Aemond sighs in defeat but a tiny smile appears on his thin lips. He’s not going to lie, you seem really interesting.

Tag list is open!

Thank you for reading! Hope you like it! ε(´｡•᎑•`)っ 💕

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sapchat · 7 months

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We Are Not Our Fathers

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You get summoned to your mate and Cassian whilst they are on a mission, only to find out there was a surprise at the end of it.

Warnings: mentions of a fight, children, and an argument between two lovers.

Words: 5k

Part 1: You are here! Part 2

Fun fact: this is technically my third fanfic now, cuz I’ve got a part one for something else and I’m writing part two, I just got this idea yesterday while listening to this playlist and was like “I need angst, azriel, his mate and a child.”

Azriel and Cassian had been at one of the Illyrian camps investigating rumors of… something. You hadn’t been paying attention when your mate told you why, he’d been getting dressed while telling. So, you could see the distraction at the time. It had been at least two hours since your mate had left and you got summoned down the bond, and a shadow seemed to tug at your hand.

So, following the bond you appeared in a typical Illyrian Steppes living room, with Azriel at the top of the steps.

“Hey, we uh, need you up here. We thought we were done but Cass found someone.” Azriel said meeting me at the bottom of the steps and grabbing a hand, rubbing his fingers on my wrist. He picked the habit up a few years into our bond, he says it keeps him grounded, especially after or during missions like these. Nodding my head, I followed the narrow steps behind him to see Cassian standing in the doorway of one of the rooms, there was a smidge of blood on the side of a wall, so I wasn’t sure what I was going to walk in on.

A little winged child was not what I was expecting. Cassian looked at me sheepishly then nodded to the side so the three of us could talk.

“So, I’m going to assume we didn’t know there was a child here?” I asked leaning against the wall.

“From what we could tell there were no reports of a child when we first started getting reports of the retaliation happening. My shadows also didn’t pick up on a child when we got here, so either he was just hiding really well because of the guests in the house, or he snuck in.” Azriel responded.

“Any idea how much he heard? Or what does his parental situation look like?” I asked, I needed to know how bad this situation could be. Especially if this child doesn’t have a family because of its father’s or mother’s choices.

“For the most part, some of them went easy. Only three of ‘em put up any real fight, hence some of the blood there by your head,” Cassian started.

“Ew, thanks for telling me that one.” I’ll just shuffle to the side.

“As for a possible guardian, he hasn’t answered any questions. He did call me a bastard though, so I guess he has listened to something while around them.” Cassian finished. He seemed almost more stressed than I. I assume because he’s become quite partial to being babysitter for Nyx in the last few months for Feyre and Rhysand to be able to go out.

“What do you think, he’s probably what four, maybe five. You have more experience in working with kids, and with Madja, what do you think his outcome is with what he’s been dealt.” Azriel asked, dragging a scarred hand down his face.

“All children are different. One could experience something awful like the death of a parent and not remember anything about it. Others could never recover from it and grow up acting out the rest of their lives. It’s just a matter of how they get help. And knowing this camp, they probably won’t get much mental help at all. You two should know that” It’s not what they wanted to hear I imagine, but it was the truth. “So, what’s the plan? I assume if you have summoned me here you want me to go talk to him?”

“Yea actually, that’s exactly what so thanks for offering that so we don’t have to ask.” Cassian states rubbing the back of his head. Little shit.

Sighing, I turn my eyes to my mates, who just shrugged. I’ve been left here with the two most awkward people when it comes to random kids. Such a surprise came from the man-child Cassian himself. I roll my eyes, but send something to calm down the bond, and turn to go into the room.

The child is on the smaller side, evidence of the winter that’s still in the mountains so it’s evident his family doesn’t have much money for food. He’s got some dirt on his clothes so he’s either been out playing today or he just doesn’t have many clothing options. His wings were on the smaller side for what we assume his age group is, so he either is just going to have slightly smaller wings, or he’s developmentally delayed for his possible age. Probably due to the lack of food and hygiene.

I step slowly into the room, trying to make my slightly tall frame smaller. “Hi there. What’s your name?”

The little boy looked at me with wide hazel eyes, a twinkle in it that I couldn’t tell meant he was scared or intrigued by my presence. “Hawthorne.”

“Hawthorne huh?” You ask, then tell him your name, “Are you okay Hawthorne?” I ask him, he sits up just a little taller, a twitch in his bat-like wing following after.

He nodded his head in response, and I nodded back in understanding. “I was wondering who you were here with buddy? It’s okay if I call you buddy, right?”

“I was with my daddy. and I don’t know if you can call me buddy. Daddy’s usually the only one that does. Daddy said it’s cause we’re friends, but I don’t know you.” He answers sheepishly looking around my body towards the end, telling me I have a shadow, likely two of them.

“Well, if I tell you something about me, and then you tell me something, then we would be friends, wouldn’t we?” He hesitates, thinking about the question then nods his head quickly.

“Okay, well you know my name already,” I say then move to sit on the corner of the bed and make it seem like I’m thinking about my fact, “One of my favorite things ever, is getting to go and watch the sunrise or sunset as it comes up or down, and it shine on the soft snow. It’s really pretty.” I say, his head perks up a little at what I tell him.

“I like that too! I also like it when it storms, 'cause that means I don’t have to go out and I get to stay inside with my daddy.” He says. I smile at his enthusiasm of getting to share something we both like.

“I’ll tell you another secret then.” His eyes get really wide, and I feel a questioning brush through the bond. “I also like it when it storms. Because that means I get to stay inside with my friends.”

“Are they your friends?” Hawthorne asks looking at Cassian and Azriel behind me.

“Yeah, those are my really good friends, Cassian and Azriel. They… came to talk to the people that were downstairs. Did you know them?” I ask, glancing at the two males behind me, who are trying to seem small, but with the size of Cassian and Azriel’s wings. They’re failing.

“It was my daddy and their friends. I heard lots of yelling. And that they called your friends bastards. So, I did when they came up here. Where is my daddy?” I looked at Azriel for an answer, he looked down and then at Hawthorne.

“We took your father somewhere so we could talk with them. Do you have a mother we could take you to? Or anyone else.” Azriel answered the child.

Hawthorne shook his head no, “Daddy says mommy died when I was little, even smaller than now. And daddy says I’m the only thing he has left. But I think that’s silly 'cause we have neighbors!”

I sigh and look at my mate and Cassian, I then look back to the hallway and back to the child, “Hawthorn I’m going to go talk with my friends really quick, are you okay here?” The boy nods his head and watches as the three of us leave the room.

It’s now my turn to rub my hands down my face. “What do we do with him? I assume mom either died in childbirth or from sickness. And now we’ve got dad where he’s going to probably be punished for what they’ve been planning.”

Cassian almost winces at the last part, “His father was one of the people to put up a fight. We’ve got him in Hewn City right now, one of the others said he’s the ring leader for wanting to try and get rid of Rhys, and ‘go back to the old ways.’”

“Gotta love males and their ever-needing reason to be on top,” Azriel said laying back against the wall across from me, one of his feet resting between my ankles.

“We asked Rhys what he thought. He thinks it should be up to you.” Cassian said.

I processed the question for a second. Thinking about the options that are available. If Hawthorne stays, he’ll be homeless, wandering the streets like Cassian did; and based on how he looks already, he probably wouldn’t last long. Or taking him with us. To Velaris and trying to find him a place there. He could stay in the House of Wind until we find somewhere or someone.

I look at Azriel and he nods, knowing what I’m going to decide. If I had it my way, there would be no children wandering the roads here in the camps. But the orphanage idea has been slow, Devlon the only one wanting to even entertain the idea.

“Take him with us. He’ll be better off in Velaris, and until we can find somewhere permanent, he can stay in the House with us all.” I say, Cassian nods knowing I’m making the decision based on what he’s told me of his past before Rhys and his mother.

“Looks like you’ll get a friend Cassian, I’ll be sure to set up playdates.” Azriel says pushing off the way and patting his brother on the back.

Cassian had a shocked look on his face, eyes following Azriel as he followed me back into the room Hawthorne was patiently waiting in.

“Hey, Hawthorne? How about you come with me and my friends for a little bit, until we can see if your father gets into trouble, okay?” I asked going in and sitting on his bed, angling my body to be eye level with the winged boy. He seemed to sit and think about it for a second, then spared Azriel a questioning look before looking back at me.

“Will I still get to do my training?”

My eyes widen just a tad. Training at five? I look over my shoulder to Cassian and Azriel in question.

“Yeah me, and Cassian can help with that. We’re both really going at flying so we can help you learn some.” Azriel told the child, putting a lot of emphasis on them being so good at flying. This seemed to make the boy happy.

“Okay then. I guess I’ll come with you. But I get to bring my toys!”

“We wouldn’t expect you to leave them behind buddy. Now where are your clothes?” I said standing from the bed and ruffling my fingers through his dark brown almost black hair.

Hawthorne jumped from the bed, his little wings flapping as he did, and ran to the dresser in the corner of the room. He pulled open a drawer almost at eye level and grabbed what little clothes sat in there. “Here they are!” He ran back over and handed them to me. He only had two shirts and another pair of pants, plus only a few pairs of undergarments.

I looked in the direction of my mate and he nodded at what I was thinking. We’ll have to get him some more clothes. I held my hand out and Azriel summoned a bag from the shadows and handed it to me. I usually use it for the farmers market, but I’ll just get a new one.

“Okay, bubs, come here and I’ll hold you while Azriel takes us back to the house.” The boy hopped over with a questioning look on his face.

“He’s going to fly both of us to your house?”

“Nope! He’s going to do something called winnow, which means,” I sat for a second thinking how to explain this to a child, “he’ll grab my and Cassian's hand, and then we’ll disappear and then reappear in the house!” Yeah, that was a great explanation.

Hawthorne seemed to question it for a second, then came over and all but crawled up into my arms. I moved the bag to my shoulder and then joined Azriel and Cassian. The three of us all looked at each other as if questioning what I’d decided.

And into the shadows we went, only for Azriel to then grab onto me tighter to glide us down to the balcony of the House of Wind. Hawthorne gripped my neck tighter looking around at all he could see of Velaris. And I knew I had made a good decision for the boy.

Feet touching the ground Hawthorne all but leaped from my arms to run and look over the balcony, pulling himself up by using his feet on the spindles to gain leverage to look out. Mouth opening by the second, I leaned back against Az watching the boy. He’s never seen so many people at once living in such a beautiful place.

“Hawthorne, wanna go get a quick snack before we get you cleaned up in a tub?” I asked leaving my mates front to join the boy at the railing. He looked up at me with wide eyes before looking back out towards the Sidra. “It’ll all still be here when we’re done. And if you’re not tired then you can even see it once the sun goes down. It looks even better.” He turned back with a slightly toothless grin and nodded enthusiastically, jumping from the side, and gripping my hand swinging from it.

Walking into the sitting room I walked the boy towards the kitchen. Already sitting on the counter was a little dinner for the boy, the House instantly knowing what was needed of it. I helped him up onto a stool he quickly dug into his dinner.

“Easy now, don’t want to eat too fast and make yourself sick,” I advised brushing a finger across his back. I walked around the counter and grabbed a small cup and filled it with water so he could drink as well.

Once he was done eating, he quickly gulped down the water and brushed his mouth on his hand, then proceeded to wipe the hand on his shirt. Boys. I grabbed him before he had a chance to run off and walked him up to mine and Azriel’s bathing room where Az sat pouring a few drops of bubbles into the bath.

I set Hawthorne down on the ground and allowed him to undress so he could climb in the bath and gave my mate a quick peck on the cheek in thanks. Admiration flowed down his side of the bond as I leaned over and started wetting Hawthorne’s hair. He splashed around a little playing with the bubbles as I washed the grime off of him.

Once I was done, I grinned and grabbed a handful of bubbles and placed them on his head. The little Illyrian quickly looked up at me and proceeded to grin. And without a moment's notice he flapped his wings in the water spraying water all over me.

We both sat in silence for a little bit, me in shock and him with a look that said, ‘Uh oh’. Then I started laughing, and Hawthorne quickly realized he wasn’t in trouble for getting water over me.

After his bath, and the fight of drying him off, and the battle of getting him dressed. I did as I had promised and walked him back to one of the balconies so he could watch the ending of the sunset and all the lights of Velaris come on. We sat quickly, him in amazement, me writing down some reports to send to Rhys in the morning.

It was in the middle of the night I was awoken to one of Azriels shadows, Azriel rousing from sleep himself and moving a wing off of me to see what was happening. Then I heard soft padding down the hall, and a shuffling of wings. I then heard the door move a bit as someone jumped and grabbed the doorknob, and the door quietly moved open.

Raising our heads, we were greeted with Hawthorne sniffling as he waddled into the room. He looked up at the two of us from the foot of the bed, glancing back and forth. I glanced at Azriel and silently asked if he’d allow the boy in the bed with us.

Azriel looked at me, then flopped back on his stomach and grumbled “Once you feed them and let them sleep in the bed, they end up staying. Look at Cass.”

I lightly slapped his arm and raised up more and nodded to my side of the bed. Hawthorne quickly shuffled over and climbed his way into the bed and my arms. “Wanna talk about it?” I quietly asked.

He shook his head and placed his wet face into my neck. I hummed an okay and moved the blankets back over us and went back to sleep, Azriel’s wing shifting back over as he moved around.

In the morning I awoke to an empty bed, not unusual with Az doing morning training, but I distinctly remember a little boy crawling into the bed in the night as well.

Climbing out of bed, a shadow greeted me happily and started leading me in the direction of the living room; and was greeted by Cassian holding the boy in the air telling him to get ready, and Azriel sat in a chair drinking tea.

“If he breaks something Cassian, you get to tell Rhys.” I said, walking further into the room and joining Azriel on the armrest, his hand wrapping around my hip and patting it. Azriel tilted his head in a way saying, ‘That’ll be fun’ and went back to his morning readings.

“Hey, we learn to fly by being dropped from different heights, I figured you prefer it in the living room, where he could land on the couch.” The general replied, letting go of the boy and allowing him to flap-glide his way to the couch in question.

I let the two continue and looked down to my mate, “Wanna join me in the kitchen, so we could talk about H-A-W-T-H-O-R-N-E’s F-A-T-H-E-R?” He nodded his head and took my hand to lead me in the direction of said room. Already on the counter was my breakfast, courtesy of the house which I thanked, and a steaming glass of coffee.

“I went earlier this morning. He’s not wanting to give us anything. Rhys wants to make an example of them.” Azriel said going straight to the point. I looked up from putting jam on my toast, my eyes trailing to the sounds of the child’s laughter and Cassians' praise.

“What about Hawthorne?”

Azriel sighed, already knowing I wasn’t going to let this go without a fight. Either with him or our High Lord. “Rhys is going to leave that up to you. His recommendation thought was to find someplace around Velaris so he wouldn’t be in a camp where issues may arise in the future. When he’s older.”

I looked sharply up at what he said. “What is that supposed to mean?” I made sure to keep my voice somewhat low so as to not raise attention to us.

“We both know what he means. He’s just trying to cover future bases because he has Nyx now.” Azriel tried to calm down, resting a hand on top of mine. I pulled it back from him immediately.

“No Azriel I don’t know what you mean. He’s a child what are you two trying to say?” I was angry. He’s five, if that. What was there to possibly worry about to ‘keep an eye on him in the future.’

Azriel said your name then continued, “His father was plotting to get a group of people to kill Rhys. Maybe worse.” Azriel almost seemed angry at the position I had taken, in defending this threat against his High Lord. But the threat was a child.

I glared at Azriel and all but snarled when I said, “Sons are NOT their fathers Azriel. You of all people should know that.” I even pointed in his direction for emphasis on my statement, his hazel eyes going wide in surprise at it. Shock and hurt flowed down the bond, and I pushed my feelings of anger towards him.

Turning I leave my breakfast to go join Cassian and the deemed threat in the other room to watch him stretch his wings.

It was later in the evening, after playing with the child and having Cassian take us down to the shopping district so he could have more clothes that I had finally let myself think about the argument from earlier in the day. I had already put Hawthorne to bed almost two hours ago and was down in the kitchen sipping wine. Setting the glass down on the counter I ran my hands down my face in frustration, and then came some shuffling.

Turning my head, I expected Azriel but found Hawthorne. Bleary-eyed from what little sleep he got. “Hey, what are you doing back up, it’s late.”

The little dark-haired child rubbed his eyes, his other hand gripping a little black cat stuffed animal he begged to have. “I have trouble sleeping in the bed. It’s super soft.” His eyebrows furrowed together and then he said, “The shadows also keep me awake by playing with my hair.”

A few of Azriel’s shadows had taken a little liking to the boy, much unlike their master, it seemed. “Well. Since you’re awake, want some hot chocolate?” I asked, the boy seemed confused at my words and asked what hot chocolate was. “Hot cocoa?” He shook his head in confusion again.

“Come on, I’ll make us some cups and you can try it,” I said lifting him up to sit on the counter and wiped my finger at some of the dried drool on his cheek.

Turning to a cabinet, I grabbed two mugs to set beside him and continued to pull supplies out to make the cocoa. Hawthorne watched every move I made, measuring out the ingredients, putting them into a pot to warm up, and even helping stir every now and then. Once it was done, I moved it over to the side to allow it to cool a bit more before putting the drink into the mugs.

“Now here’s the fun part. I like to add some extra things to mine.”

Hawthorne seemed interested in whatever it was I was going to add.

“I like to take this white stuff, called whipped cream, and put it on top, then add this stuff here called cinnamon. Do you wanna try mine and see if you like it for yours?” I asked, Hawthorne seemed to think deeply about it, furrowed eyebrows, and all then eagerly nodded his head. I carefully handed him my cup and he took a little sip, whip cream getting on his upper lip and nose, then made a loud ‘ahh’ sound after gulping it down.

“I’d like some please!” The boy eagerly handed my mug back and watched me add it to his smaller mug.

We sat side by side sipping at our drinks, Hawthorne’s eyes drooping more and more as he drank before he set his almost empty mug on the counter and yawned.

“Ready to go back to bed?” He seemed a little hesitant and then said something that broke my heart.

“I don’t wanna sleep by myself, I’m scared someone’s going to come and get me.” He didn’t want to make eye contact.

I looked at him a little inquisitively, “Why do you think someone’s coming to get you?”

“Well, I really liked being with Daddy, even if I didn’t get much food. And then you guys came and took my daddy and me, because daddy was being bad. But you have been really nice, and Cassin has been helping me fly, and even though Azzie don’t like me he still lets me play with his shadows, and you guys have food and it’s warm-“ I stopped him before he could continue working himself up.

“Hawthorne, you don’t have to go back to the camp if you don’t want to. You know that right?” I said rubbing his hand in a comforting way.

He seemed sheepish as he nodded then asked, “I would get to stay here with you? And Cassin and Azzie?”

I sighed trying to think of an answer, “I don’t know if you’d get to stay with us. You could go to another place that would love you very much.”

Hawthorne didn’t like that answer. Tears forming in his little hazel eyes, lips wobbling, and I knew I needed to backtrack.

“Hey, how about this buddy?” He sniffed and ran a hand over his eye, “How about we pause this conversation, and me and you go sleep? Then we can talk when I get some answers.” Answers only the Inner Circle could answer.

It took Hawthorne only 20 minutes to fall back to sleep in his room and me another hour lying beside Azriel. It was early morning when I awoke to Azriel getting up himself.

“Think you could call a meeting about little bits?” I asked rubbing my hands down my face.

Azriel sighed and sat back in the bed beside me. “You shouldn’t get attached to him; you know that. And it’s not that I think that he’s going to become his father or that I hate him. I heard you guys’ last night, and what you both talked about.” He sat there for a second licking his lips as I cringed knowing he heard us, “I do like him. He’s a sweet kid, and I’m glad he’s had a better life than most Illyrians-”

I stopped him, “I didn’t mean what I said yesterday. I know you’re not your father and I should’ve never. Ever. Compared you to him.”

“I know. You were angry and believed you had to defend him. I’m proud of you for that. But if you really want to discuss what happens with him, then I think we should talk.” Azriel said, grabbing my hand and holding it as he laid back across my stomach.

I nodded, and we started talking. About all outcomes for Hawthorne. What would happen to him, how he’d be raised, all of it. Then we went to the River House. And I joined the Inner Circle as we talked about him. Rhysand’s concerns, Amren’s and Mor’s surprise, Feyre’s support in what would happen, and how it would all be dealt with.

At the end we had an answer.

It was later in the day that I asked Hawthorne if he wanted to go walk around town with Azriel. I was slowly walking behind as Azriel walked somewhat awkwardly with the boy, talking with him as Hawthorne was eagerly pointing around at different shops.

Hawthorne’s eyes widened and grabbed Azriels’ hand, the older Illyrian tensing up at the innocent little child grabbing his scarred hands and dragged him over to a bakery to press his face into the window and stare at the sweets.

“Can we go in there?” Hawthorne asked eagerly looking between Azriel and me. Azriel looked to me for some guidance, letting me control the situation. Nodding my head, Azriel led the three of us into the bakery and let the boy pick what he wanted and got me my favorite treat too.

I led Hawthorne back outside so we could eat, take in the sights, and talk to Hawthorne like we needed to.

“Hey Hawthrone, remember the conversation from last night? Can me and Azriel talk to you about it?” Hawthrone seemed more downtrodden at the reminder of last night but nodded his head.

“Hawthorne, I got to visit your dad before we left, and I just wanted you to know that he isn’t going to be able to come home. And because of that, we need to find you a good home.” Azriel started out, not telling the boy his father wasn’t going to come home. Rhys did have to make an example and couldn’t just pardon him because he had a son.

“Azriel and I have been talking with some people, and we’re wondering what you want to do,” I said, handing the boy a napkin to clean his face as he ate. He glanced between Azriel and me, then down at the table.

“Where would I go if Daddy can’t take me?” he asked shyly.

“Well, we could find you a loving home here, in the city. Where you would be cared for and get to learn all kinds of things with kids your age and everything. Another choice is we find you a home back at your camp, somewhere that’d be able to care for you, and you’d get to be with other Illyrians your age.” Hawthorne seemed to think the two options over. Then Azriel looked at me and I nodded.

“Or” Azriel started, “You could stay with us, and we could raise you. Then you’d stay with Cassian and us, get to meet the High Lord and Lady, and all our friends, while going to school here in Velaris. And in a few years, we’d take you to a camp called Windhaven and you’d train to be a warrior.” Hawthorne’s eyes got wider and wider as Azriel continued, looking back and forth between us two, his grin starting to match mine.

“So. Which would yo-“ Azriel didn’t finish as the tiny Illyrian lunged over the table into both of us.

“YOU I WANNA STAY WITH YOU!” Hawthorne yelled excitedly, gripping the both of us as I laughed.

Azriel looked at me, love flowing down the bond and him receiving the same back from me at the new addition to the family.

834 notes · View notes

kurogane2512 · 8 months

Note

A request about Natasha,himeko, Kafka when they are jealous, seeing FEM reader (trailblazer) with someone?

Game: Honkai Star Rail

Characters: HSR Himeko, Natasha, Kafka x fem! reader (trailblazer)

Type: Suggestive fluff (implied sex later, slight possessiveness)

Himeko

She won't get jealous very easily, she trusts the bond between you two a lot and knows you are loyal. She can look past a lot of behavior, especially since you come to her arms every time and promise your love with the most passionate kisses.

However, everyone has a limit. She hates having to continuously watch every woman you come across flirt and touch you, suggestively or not. A few even dared to invite you out, but she keeps her thoughts in as you always firmly deny. The way you look at her is exceptionally different from the way you look at those women, and that gives her enough assurance that you are hers.

But, Himeko is prone to loneliness. The more she watches and tolerates, the more distant she starts feeling from you. She hates thinking this way because she knows you'd never betray her but she can't help her thoughts.

Himeko was informed of your return to the train and immediately went out to greet you, only to be upset as she could smell sweet perfumes from your body, your clothes disheveled and spotted a faint red mark on your collar. Dan Heng and March had long returned to their rooms and only you two remained in the entryway of the train, staring at each other as an awkward atmosphere engulfed you.

"What....happened out there?" Himeko asked, almost in disbelief.

"Uh....i-it seems I accidentally wandered into certain....districts of the city."

Himeko squinted her eyes, "Again? This is the fifth time on your expedition here."

"I know but it's so confusing to navigate here! The women recognized me and pulled me inside, I denied so much and tried to come out but they kept surrounding me...."

"....And let me guess, March and Dan Heng had to save you? Just like every time?"

You nodded out of guilt, looking away. You couldn't meet your eyes with her even though you did nothing wrong.

"I-I'm sorry, I promise nothing happened....Uh, let me go get changed!"

You tried to walk away but she grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards her room, immediately pushing you on the bed and straddling you. It was a surprising action from Himeko, she would rarely act this way. Before you knew it, she dived in to kiss your neck and make numerous marks on your chest and face. You felt her tongue lap strips along your skin, her teeth sinking in your collarbone and lips wrapping to suck.

"When will you keep testing my patience?" she whispered in your ear.

"W-What?! No, I don't mean to! I'm really sorry, I never did anything there!"

"I know that! I know you wouldn't, I trust you. But....how am I supposed to help feeling this way?!"

She shouted as she embraced you and snuggled into your neck, you smiled and wrapped your arms around her before sniffing her hair.

"You don't have to do anything. It's my responsibility, I made you feel this way then I will also help you through it. I promise."

She gazed up at you with a pout then pecked your lips, "You have a lot of making up to do."

"Yes, ma'am~"

She chuckled before sitting up on your lap and sliding her dress down, the two of you spending an intimate and passionate night together.

"Hmm, perhaps I should accompany you from next time~"

Natasha

Similar to Himeko, she doesn't get jealous too easily either. Once again, she trusts the bond between you two. She knows you are naturally very caring and helpful; you helped her in a similar manner, after all. She is very sweet and motherly in general, loads of children flock around you and she gets a warm fuzzy feeling in her chest watching you with them.

Well, children are fine but what about their mothers? Natasha often sent you out to deliver medicines and other necessities to several homes, many of which had only a single mother and a child. You ended up helping the mothers more than required by taking care of some chores and babysitting their kids in emergencies.

You were simply helping out of goodwill as life in the Underworld was hard enough. Was it your fault when some of them became infatuated with you?

"Y/n, there's a package for you." Natasha called out to you and you came to her office to see a box wrapped in pretty ribbon kept on it, a small card attached to it which read 'For dear Y/n, thank you once again for helping around the house. I baked these for you. Come and see me again sometime~' The undersigned was a name you recognized, one of Natasha's longtime patients who often had her son checked up at the clinic.

You blushed slightly and opened the box to find handmade cookies inside. Natasha looked at you in amusement then smiled and patted your head, "Oh my~ These look really delicious. Looks like she has taken quite a liking to you, always sending a gift for helping her~"

You looked away in embarrassment, "I....I'll tell her to stop doing this, it's a waste of food and it's enough times now...."

"Oh, that reminds me. There was another letter for you in the morning while you were out on deliveries, it completely slipped my mind."

Natasha opened her drawer and took out a bright pink colored envelope with a rose seal, you nervously opened it and read the scented letter before quickly putting it back in.

"What does it say?"

"N-Nothing! It's just one of our patients thanking us!"

Natasha gave a small smile and stood up then swiftly snatched the letter out of your hand and skimmed through it before you took it back.

"I-It's not what you think it is! I have always rejected her, I—"

"Sshh~" her index finger brushed your lips before she leaned in to peck them.

"I know you are quite....attractive in their eyes. You help them so much and even take care of their children, it's no wonder they'd start liking you differently."

"N-No, but...."

She wrapped her arms around your body, "I trust you, my sweetheart. But....if someday you perhaps find someone better and want to leave then—"

"No! What are you saying?! Why would I?! I love you!"

Natasha looked at you wide-eyed then averted her gaze, "I....I just feel they treat you better than me. I'm very grateful that you chose me and love me but I'm used to people pushing me away so—"

"No! Stop it, I won't do that!" you pulled her into your embrace tightly. She was surprised for a bit then patted the back of your head.

"I won't deny I felt a litte....envious reading that and seeing all these gifts they send you...."

You leaned back and cupped her face before kissing her deeply, "Then tell me! I'll do something, I don't want you to feel that way!"

She smiled affectionately then suddenly pushed you down on the couch behind you and straddled your lap before you could react. You gazed at each other and shared a gentle kiss, no need of exchanging any words as her eyes told you everything.

Kafka

Oh, she definitely will have the most spontaneous reaction, and she will get jealous rather quickly as well. You are hers and she won't spare a moment to convey that. If she sees you being even slightly friendly or out of line with someone then expect to be immediately pulled away by her strings.

She is certainly possessive of you, it's not that she's insecure you'll leave her but she simply can't tolerate you being away and around others who act a bit too friendly with you. Maybe she'll lock you away in a room with herself and not let you come out before next morning~

"K-Kafka, I'm sorry—You misunderstand...." you pleaded out to Kafka as you sat on the bed, your arms bound to the bedposts by her strings while she straddled your lap and gazed at you.

"Hm? I misunderstand? Hehe, oh Y/n...you should choose your next words carefully~"

She tightened the strings as her eyes glowed, leaning closer to your body. She swiftly tore away your shirt, exposing you half naked body to herself before diving in and kissing you all over.

"You have been really out of line recently, you know that? We visited the Astral Express for a brief moment and you ended up befriending them....especially that woman, Himeko. Did she say some sweet words to sway you?~"

"N-No! She barely even tolerates me-mhm! You know s-she hates us...ngh~"

"She may hate us but she can certainly like you. And you don't even attempt to deny her, are you that desperate for attention?~"

"N-No, I'm sorry....I won't do it again..."

"Say that you are mine. Swear that you belong to me."

"I-I'm yours! I'm yours! I won't ever do it again!"

You shouted out desperately and she finally removed the strings, your arms falling limp out of pain and she placed an intense and passionate kiss on your lips.

"Good girl~ That's what I like to hear~"

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail himeko #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr himeko #hsr himeko x reader #himeko x reader #kafka #hsr kafka x reader #kafka x reader #hsr natasha #hsr natasha x reader

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angel-of-the-moons · 7 months

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I haven’t stopped thinking about that Hobie baby fever fic ever since you posted it. Many thoughts. Many thoughts many many thoughts and ideas many many little ideas.

You have people saying ‘Oh good luck lol kids are SO hard!’ ‘He’s definitely gonna regret it you’re gonna be a single parent’. But Hobie’s probably been WISHING from a young age he could be a parent, the only thing he didn’t prep for is your little one grabbing his wicks and him nervously calling out “Luv, luv help me LUV-”. He learnt very quickly to tie his hair back when he’s holding them. If you have a little girl, everyone always thinks it’s you who’s done her hair for the day or for school. NOPE. Hobie’s been with her in the bathroom since 6 in the morning putting her in braids and buns. Your baby is his whole world and he’ll be DAMNED if he won’t be the absolute best dad EVER ‼️

Oh my godddddddddd my ovaries went 💥💥

The Pitter Patter of Little Feet Pt. 2

Dad!Hobie x Wife!Reader

TW/CW: A lil angst at the start, Fluff. So much fluff.

A/N: I'm basing all my baby prep off of the things I had to do for my nephew. I am unsure the proper care that goes into textured hair but I hope I can do it justice!

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

You remember what people told you, how "someone like him" wouldn't be able to handle being a dad, how he'd leave you. The words said by your mother hurt the worst, the things she said about Hobie. Your father was no better, especially when they found out you two agreed to get pregnant before anything else.

Especially after you put the positive pregnancy tests, the test results from blood work with your doctor, and some baby booties on the table as a surprise.

It was supposed to go like you imagined, right? Happy jubilant crying, hugs, congratulations...

You got the exact opposite, with your parents criticizing everything about your boyfriend, the father of your unborn baby. The man you loved.

"What kind of father would he be? A bad one, just look at how he's dressed! You think he can help dress your child?" Your mother scoffed. "And those awful piercings! I bet your baby will be running around with holes in their face by the time they're six!"

"And what about a job? You can't be the only one to support your family. He's a man, he needs to step up and quit it with that "punk lifestyle". It's not suitable to raise my grandchild in!" Your father grunted.

After your baby was born, you cut them off and had a courthouse wedding, and a little get-together with his friends from the Spider Society. A mix of a reception and baby shower.

Joke's on them! Hobie was an amazing father, and an amazing husband. The moment he found out you two were having a little girl?

Pink. And. Purple. Her style would be all punkish of course.

He got stuffed instruments that crinkled for when she would teethe, some guitar-shaped rattles...

And he would never admit it, but Hobie actually cried, when he got to hold your baby girl for the first time. You guys named her Selena. Selena Brown.

She came out angry, wailing, as if she was pissed off at the world she had only been in for a few moments.

"Already got the spirit! Make a big noise, a big statement. That's my girl!" Hobie laughed, playing with her tiny feet.

After that, Hobie was very attentive. From you working from home, he would help. He'd fetch the breast pump when you needed it, would prep the bottles, and keep Selena occupied while you worked. He would even take the late shifts at night to make sure you got your rest.

As Selena got bigger, her hair became a bit unruly, and at times you had no idea what to do with it. Hobie? He came in clutch. The proper ties, hair masks, grease (if needed), oils, brushes...

The trick was getting the rambunctious one year old to hold still while her father attempted to tame the poofy mass.

It was one day, you got up from your computer only to hear Hobie shout your name.

"Babe! Babe!" He cried out, grunting.

Of course, you made a dash for the living room, only to see your husband with your toddler. Apparently she had moved behind him, her hands clinging to his shirt to help keep her balanced as she bounced on her little chubby feet.

Her big brown eyes gleamed as she giggled, her bottom teeth poking out in the most adorable way.

Well... it wasn't from where Hobie sat.

Selena's little fist had a tight hold over one of his wicks, tugging his head back sharp.

"A lil' help, luv?!" He winced, hissing at you as you covered your face to try and keep from laughing.

"Come on, Bug, give daddy's poor head a rest. He's got enough problems with that mess he calls hair." You tease, scooping up your little girl.

But... even though her grip loosened, Hobie's wick stayed attached to her hand.

"Oh... ohhhhh..." You said, clicking your tongue.

"What! What!" Hobie groaned, trying to tug his head free.

"You made me have a spider baby."

#hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown #atsv hobie #hobie spiderverse #my writing #answered

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leondickrider · 8 months

Text

relationship headcanons | leon s kennedy x gn!reader

💭 . . . hiii, so i moved to this account from my old account @movedoopsie so this an updated version of both of my old relationship headcanons posts and nsfw post (with some new bonus headcanons hehe) (‘. • ᵕ •. `)

before reading: fluff, suggestive, nsfw marked, some are sad bc i love making leon suffer ₍ᐡ｡っ ̫-｡ᐡ₎ not proofread | warnings: cursing, substance abuse mentioned | wc 2.1k

love with him kinda gives me and your mama by childish gambino but very much guns and roses by lana del rey 🎀

ONE THING I FORGOT TO MENTION IN MY ORIGINAL POSTS: television heaven by lana del rey is so re2make leon coded !!!! and maybe perhaps starry eyed... just maybe...

it's canon that he listens to rock (refer to re2r opening) but I'm sure he would listen to alternative and hip hop

btw, to the spotify playlist makers, he would never listen to mother mother he is quite literally born in the 70s

also i doubt he would actually listen to lana del rey, but if he did he would listen to ultraviolence ₍ᐢ.”⚇.”ᐢ₎

when he's frustrated, he'll mutter curses under his breath like it's so sexy and hot and pussy soddening or dick hardening (I don't have a dick idk how it works)

he loves when you wear long, flowy dresses or shirts, especially if they are in white. if you get it you get it

he would like white clothes on you since white typically represents like purity and cleanliness. and with all the stuff he's been through and it's just comforting

his favorite colors are blue and green tho

he's a good kisser 10/10

leon definitely replies with the driest things ever over text. like you could say "hey baby I love you <3 be careful at work" and he'll say "Ok love you." and he uses the period too

also replies with 👍, 👎, 😀 and 😍

when you are both going to sleep at the same time, he will scratch your back out of habit, even if he falls asleep you will feel his hand making circular motions on your back

he's the lightest sleeper ever. he wakes up if you shift in bed too fast, if you make any unusual sound, literally wakes up so easily and this leads to him being very sleepy :(

he would want 2 kids so they aren't lonely. he wouldn't ever want his kids to feel the loneliness he felt as an orphan

he's a girl dad but if he had a son then you already know that kid is going to be a carbon copy of his dad

sometimes he comes home really drunk and he leans all over you, kissing you all over and saying how much he loves you and stuff and then he cries and then falls asleep

when he goes fishing or hunting or camping he always drags you along for it even if you complain

he looks like he goes camping like every season as the vacation he so desperately asks for 24/7

he doesn't understand text abbreviations. he's like a victorian child. he says "LOL" and doesn't even know what it means. "leon I'm feeling really sick, bring me some soup please" "Ok LOL."

he also replies really slowly to texts sometimes, it's not even on purpose he is just has no clue how to iphone

during missions, he has those cute lil kitten sneezes (like in re4r) but at home this man forces them to be obnoxiously loud because it always makes you giggle

and his hearts melts a little every time you giggle. your laughter is like his favorite sound in the whole wide world

he gets home at unholy hours of the night usually, so he usually just goes to the bedroom, gives you a kiss on your forehead or cheek while you're asleep and takes a quick shower before sleeping

however on nights where you wait for him to get home he is taken by surprise when you fling yourself into his arms when he enters

when be walks in he'll be like "sono a casa..." really quietly

yeah he learned a little italian bc he's like a mafioso son basically so he decided "why not just learn italian and make my girlfriend swoon over it?" il mio king

he's incredibly insecure in relationships. he thinks you deserve better than him, somebody who can be there for you without fail and isn't heavily traumatized

when you're sick he will literally do everything for you, he doesn't let you do anything until you're better

even when you aren't sick he does everything, he justa bit more lenient

hero complex ofc, he loves being there to 'save you' even if it's just helping you get something off the top shelf or helping you zip up a dress or a shirt

always puts his bed by you in minecraft even tho he has no idea how to play :3

also, loves bear hugging you. but he also does those hugs where he lifts you up completely and spins you around a little

if you where in raccoon city with him he would do the spinning hug the second you were finally safe

when he's feeling really affectionate (usually when he's a lil tipsy) he'll tell you things like "sei tutto il mio mondo" and "sei la metà della mia mela" (this is so cute if you also love apples)

he's a heavyweight this man can handle his alcohol, so if you get drunk easy like me, then yea he's def got you covered

doesn't let anybody he doesn't trust near you when you're drunk

also, even when he's drunk he's very protective. he's actually more protective

he is really good at comforting you when you need it but often pushes you away when you need it :(

sometime he will disappear for long periods of times. and he cuts off all contact. but eventually you will get a call from somebody like chris, claire, etc. that leon was drinking and they were bringing him home

he goes through cycles of highs where he stops drinking and lows where he drinks excessively (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

sometimes he'll send you random selfies when he gets service or random texts like "Hi." and tbh it scared the shit out of you to just get a random Hi when he's in the middle of like the desert a few times

he isn't really good with physical affection, he'll give you awkward hugs and hold your hands but he's just very awkward in general so...

but if we're talking cute re2make leon then omfg hugs 24/7 he will not keep his hands off you

he isn't really into pda bc he's shy about it, he will hold your hand and maybe give you an awkward side hug but that's really it unless it's one of those special occasions lmfao

this is kind of random but when he's alone he likes to look at old pictures of you both and just reminisce on the past ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

re2make leon the typa guy to play just dance with you

maybe re4make if he's in love enough (he is)

his style is actually really good so he ALWAYS looks so good next to you (refer to casual leon model) 🐩

he sings in the shower sometimes

he likes to take showers with you since it's relaxing when you wash his hair since you have like soft hands and not his big thick meaty manly leather beefy hands

falls asleep with light piano music and rain audios in the background 😭

his instagram is basically a fanpage for you. always appreciating you!! "My s/o took this." "Date night night with s/o." "Imagine not having the prettiest bestest amazingest s/o ever."

he and ada are mutuals, this is his revenge for ghosting him lol

takes you on picnic dates a lot

for people with periods, he is like so good with helping you woth getting tampons/pads, getting medicine, etc etc

his ideal house with you would be one of those stereotypical white american family suburb houses (he's so american i'll never let him live down calling luis 'lewis' 😭)

he pledge allegiance to the flag he is a PATRIOT🇺🇸

he spoils the hell out of you !!!! you look at a dress twice? magically in your closet the next day. you look at a pretty necklace that costs more than a car? he already got it

government paycheck

when he was 21 he dreamed of having a really normal life with you. a normal house, normal cars, 2 kids, a dog, all these other totally normal things

he does not get the normal life lol

nsfw

he is very territorial, he definitely marks you up in spots that are very visible and harder to hide

he isn't really picky about what lingerie you wear but if you wear white sets with little blue or pink ribbons then you got your work cut out for you

he's very romantic during sex. on anniversaries he'll even get rose petals and candles in you're into that kinda stuff lol

had to buy a whole different phone just for videos/photos of you both because his phone has a ton of work things and he didn't want to risk accidentally sending the wrong picture to the wrong person

when he gets back from missions that were very stressful and got him pent up then sex is way rougher than usual

he is definitely into worshipping your body. he'll tell you how beautiful you are and kiss every inch if your skin that he can

sometime he'll also say some italian things to you while you do the deed like "sei molto bella"

when he's horny he'll tell you "mi ecciti così tanto"

although, italian bedroom talk is kinda cringe sometimes so he usually sticks to english

he is definitely very experienced, he's been with several women, usually one night stands. but we do also know he had a girlfriend before resi 2 so there's that

he would prefer sex stays in the bedroom, or the house at least

he probably gets pleasure from making you get pleasure. like just from eating you out he will... yea

as i said before, territorial 😊

one of his sexual fantasies is fucking you while he's on a mission but he probably wouldn't want to take that risk bc like zombies

it's not rare to have quickies in the mornings

he's big like maybe 6 or 7 inches? he may not have a könig bulge but he's absolutely packing

dirty talk. says things like "y'like that princess?" "that feel good?" "i know you like it baby" "you feel so girl pretty girl" "look at me lovie" when you close ur eyes

man is a freak (refer to THAT clip from death island)

however, sex with him is usually really vanilla simply because he is too tired from all these missions to be doing all that

when it's not vanilla he's a switch simply bc I know it. he'll let you take the reins from time to time, but he is always the one in control if we're being fr

also i'm pretty sure he's top leaning because like... the shit he's been through?? he'd want a little control over something and having control in bed makes him feel really powerful

he still likes to bottom tho lol

he also calls u mommy or daddy or master or mistress if u a freaky freak lol

loves brat taming!!!!!

he likes to hold your hand while having sex

enjoys morning sex lots, especially the morning after he returns from a mission. he's too exhausted the night of returning, so he wakes up early and fucks you

love love loves missionary bc he gets to look at your face and he can just look down to see him yk thrusting (goodbye i hate this word)

i will say tho sometimes he will say the most outlandish things like "i wanna pump so many babies into you that we repopulate raccoon city" but it's ok bc it's leon

loves white sets on you (refer to 8)

sooo good with after care!!! if you need something he will do it or get it. want a snack? he's grabbing it. want a nice warm bubble bath? he's running the water and grabbing the soap for bubbles

spoils you with aftercare tbh.... after him you really cannot ever get better aftercare

very vocal, lots of whimpers and whines coming from him

really good with his hands, I mean look at the way he handles guns. i'm sure his hands come in handy in more ways than just flipping a gun around

amazing with his tongue and mouth as well 🎀

he love love loves when u sit on his face !!!

when you give him head he likes to rub your scalp and he makes the most attractive noises ever

he owns a couple toys. he def owns a vibrator and a pair of handcuffs

he probably has no preference to if you're shaved or not when he's older

but when he's younger he prefers it shaved or trimmed cuz he lives between your legs and it gets a bit annoying getting hair in his mouth 😭

(i'm sorry if all the nsfw seems aimed towards afab people, I literally have no idea how to write for amab but i'm trying to spoil everybody...)

౨ৎ translations "sono a casa" i'm home; "il mio [re]" my king; "sei tutto il mio mondo" you are my whole world; "sei la metà della mia mela" you are half of my apple; "sei molto bella" you're very beautiful; "mi eciti così tanto" you're turning me on | please correct me if any of this is wrong since i rarely speak to my italian friends and family and i don't say these things to them. i had to research :)

reblogs and replies appreciated always <3

leon kennedy masterlist

#vivi ౨ৎ #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #vivi writes ౨ৎ

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asterias-record-shop · 11 months

Text

—𓆩[in our next life || EPILOGUE]𓆪—

𓆩[masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Finnick Odair x Fem! District 4 Victor! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, slight angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 1.7K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Peeta and Katniss weren’t the first to fall in love after the games. That title went to you and Finnick, your mentor after you were Reaped at the age of fifteen two years after Finnick. After being dragged back into the Games with the Quarter Quell, you both are determined to stop it, no matter what- especially if one of you would gladly sacrifice themselves for the other.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - that I know of, there is none! maybe besides cursing(?) but it's pure fluff, just let me know if you think i should add anything!

Ten years later…

This would be the second rope being tied around your wrist, to the same man. Things were different now; the games were over, Finnick built you that house on the river bank, and you had a son this time too.

Your dress was similar to the one you had before, especially because Cinna designed this one too, but this time, it was much smaller than the ballgown you had before. It was still poofy, yes, but this time it was lined with pearls taken from your first dress in strands of gold. Your hair was pulled into your preferred style, a flower crown of white camellias, pearls stranded in your hair as well.

You probably loved this more than your first outfit, a white bouquet in your hands as well. You were going to cry even more this time, you were sure of it. When someone knocks, you turn with a quick confirmation for them to come in, Katniss peeking her head inside. “Someone wants to see you…”

You giggled as your son ran in, gasping loudly. “Momma, you look so pweety!”

You laughed at his childish dialect, smoothing down the front of your dress. “Yeah? You think papa will like it?”

He nods his head vigorously. “Yeah! And if he doesn’t, he’s crazy!”

You giggled, offering your empty hand. “Wanna walk mommy down the aisle?”

He continues to nod, running over. “Momma, I’m glad you’re getting remarried. That bracelet is dirty.”

You laughed, nodding with him. “Is it baby? Well good thing papa’s getting me another one, right?”

“Yeah!”

You named your son Atlas, and for heaven's sake, he came out exactly like Finnick. Golden hair and bright sea blue eyes, a perfect smile and the freckles you loved since you were a child.

He takes your hand, leading you out the room as Katniss follows behind. “You look beautiful, Y/N.”

You smiled back at her, giggling. “Thank you, Katniss.”

You walked out the back door, stepping down the steps of the large wrap around porch Finnick had built himself. The second you stepped into the meadow of different kinds of wildflowers, all of the memories came flooding back.

“Finnick, we’re not supposed to be here!”

You whisper yelled at him as he dragged you to the edge of District 4, laughing.

“So? Come on, we’re almost there!” He pulls you harder, groaning. “Y/N, don’t be a scaredy-cat!”

You groaned. “My mother will kill me.”

He snorts. “Fuck your mother.”

You gasped, slapping his bicep before he sharply tugs you forward, a gasp falling from your lips before you screamed out as you both began rolling down the hill. His hand keeps your face in his neck as he laughs, your arms wrapping around him as his other hand holds your side.

You finally get to the bottom, Finnick laughing like the funniest thing in the world just happened as you sit on his chest, looking down at your grass stained dress. The Reaping would happen in a few days, and your mother had just bought you this dress. She would kill you if you came home like this.

“Finnick, my dress is all dirty!” You whine as he sits up.

“You’re so over dramatic, darling. We can clean it when we get back, look at all the flowers,” he says, smiling as he picks one and puts it behind your ear. “I know they’re your favorite.”

You couldn’t help but giggle as you picked one and tucked it behind his ear. “My favorite wildflower, Finnick. Not my favorite in general.”

He laughed, clearing his throat. “My apologies, your majesty, your favorite wildflower. Is there any way you could possibly forgive me?”

You giggle, humming. “I mean… I guess so,” you say, making him grin before you boop his nose. “But it’s gonna cost you.”

He starts to blush, but hums. “Oh yeah? What?”

You purse your lips, letting out a soft ‘hmph’ as you fix yourself on Finnick’s lap. “Well, if I’m your highness, that means I’m queen, right?”

He purses his lips in response, nodding. “Yes, it does.”

“Well then, you can be my knight. To protect me and stay with me for the rest of my life. Sounds good?”

He smiled widely, nodding. “Sounds good. I’ll be your knight, Y/N?”

You put up your hand, offering your pinky. “Promise?”

He smiled, nodding as he wrapped his pinky around yours before pushing his hand up. “Lock it.”

You do, watching as he kissed your overlapping thumbs before doing the same. “You can’t break it now, Finnick!”

He nods before smirking. “Y’know, we just shared saliva.”

Your brow ruffled. “No we didn’t.”

“You kissed after me,” he teased, chuckling. “That means you got some of my saliva in your mouth.”

You blushed madly, quickly wiping your lips. “Finnick! Don’t say that!”

He laughed as he pressed his face into your neck. “Oh come on! Knights and queens belong together.”

You purse your lips. “No, kings and queens belong together.”

“Knights and queens make better pairs,” he says immediately before humming. “Y/N, I want to do something.”

Your brow ruffled. “Okay?”

He shook his head. “With you. If you don’t like it, you can tell me to stop and I will, I promise, but I’ve been wanting to do it with you for a while.”

You nodded. “Okay, I will. What is it, Finnick?”

He blushed madly, cheeks turning a bright red as he looked away. “C-Can you close your eyes?”

You do, closing them tightly before something soft lands on your lips. You don’t realize it at first, but Finnick was kissing you. Your lifelong crush was kissing you.

You don’t open your eyes until he pulls away, slowly finding his eyes as he swallows. “W-Was that okay?”

You look at him confused. “Did you just kiss me, Finnick?”

He looked away, mumbling under his breath. “Yeah, yeah I did,” he was blushing madly. “I just… I‘ve been wanting to do it for a while and-”

You pressed your lips to his before he could even finish, holding his cheeks before pulling away. It was soft and quick, but that’s all you really needed. You could feel your cheeks heating up as you rub them softly, clearing your throat. “I uhm… you don’t have to ask next time.”

He starts to smile. “So I can kiss you whenever I want?”

You shove him. “Of course not, dummy! We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend!”

His smile falls. “Why not?”

Your brow furrowed. “You… you want to be?”

“Yeah, I do,” he says quickly, fixing the flower over your ear. “I want to love you until the end of time.”

“Forever?” You ask and he nods.

“And when we meet again in our next life.”

You inhaled shakily as you stood at the end of the white carpet rolled out between the chairs of people, only the most significant you truly wanted to come. Finnick stood on the dock, hands ringing together nervously before he saw you. His jaw drops as he stares, Cinna grinning as he stands between him and where you were going to stand.

Mags had sadly died a few months before Atlas was born, peacefully with you and Finnick by her side. Of course you were heartbroken, but you also knew you would meet again in your next life.

The drums started to play as Atlas tugged on your hand making you look down at him.

“Mama, are you okay? Daddy’s crying.”

You look at Finnick who, sure enough, had tears rolling down his cheeks before he wiped at them.

“Yes baby,” you whisper, your own eyes filling with tears. “Yes, I’m okay. I’m amazing, I’m so, so happy.”

“Well, come on!”

You laughed as he tugged you down the aisle, waving at everyone as Haymitch and Effie grin at you. You smiled widely at them, wiping at your cheeks as you finally got to the dock where the drums stopped.

Atlas ran around you both, running to Cinna who sighed loudly.

“And at last, the day has finally come,” he says, announcing it to everyone here. “Where the King and Queen of Panem are getting married again.”

You can feel the rope being wrapped around you both, your hand holding one end as you stare up at Finnick who leaned his forehead against yours. Cinna continues to speak as Finnick takes the other end, Katniss and Peeta stepping forward to do the same thing they did the first time, but this time, they cut off the previous rope from your wrists before melting the second one around again.

“I have a gift for you both,” Cinna says as the rope stays wrapped around you both, slowly taking a box from his pocket before opening it. “To add onto your rings.”

You gasped as he took out two more rings, one a thinner band with a pearl on it made for Finnick while the other was a vine-shaped gold with a pearl on it as well. He slips them both onto your fingers as you look up at Finnick, eyes watering as he sighed. “I fucking love you, Y/N Odair. I love you so much.”

You giggled, stroking his cheek. “I love you, Finnick Odair. Until the end of time, and in our next life.”

He sighs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Until the end of time and in our next life, darling.”

“Give her a real kiss, Finnick!” Effie shouts, Atlas groaning in disgust as Finnick pulls his hand from the rope, both of his strong palms resting on your jaw as he pulls you closer, kissing you passionately.

You could taste the slight saltiness from the tears, but you groaned against his lips as you pulled him closer, lower. Everyone cheers as Atlas groans once again.

“Stop being nasty!”

You giggle as you pull away, smiling up at him again. “I love you too, Finnick Odair. Until the end of time, and when we meet in our next life.”

Regular taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪 𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪 𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪 𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪 𓆩[@xyzstar]𓆪 𓆩[@just-my-shit]𓆪 𓆩[@your-mom21]𓆪 𓆩[@c78r]𓆪

In our next life taglist: 𓆩[@poppet05]𓆪 𓆩[@ennycutie]𓆪 𓆩[@jewelrybean25]𓆪 𓆩[@arzua10]𓆪 𓆩[@savagemickey03]𓆪 𓆩[@ok-boke]𓆪 𓆩[@instabull]𓆪 𓆩[@maxinehufflepuffprincess]𓆪 𓆩[@starryeddie]𓆪 𓆩[@ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations]𓆪 𓆩[@taestrwbrry]𓆪 𓆩[@iveraly]𓆪 𓆩[@b1llzb1tch]𓆪 𓆩[@avoxrising]𓆪 𓆩[@aquawhore]𓆪 𓆩[@luna-ann]𓆪 𓆩[@maliaaaa]𓆪 𓆩[@jyessaminereads]𓆪 𓆩[@hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere]𓆪 𓆩[@crowleysqueenofhell]𓆪 𓆩[@alexa-33]𓆪 𓆩[@wh0re4life]𓆪 𓆩[@duwcsd]𓆪 𓆩[@nyainterlu4ee]𓆪 𓆩[@magical-spit]𓆪

omg. OMG. THAT'S IT! THAT'S IT! OMG!

This is the last chapter, omg. With a heavy heart, this is (kinda) the end! I will start taking requests for Finnick in this universe, the link to request is in at the top! Don't be shy my loves!

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daytaker · 3 months

Note

Hello, it is I, Family Anon, the anon who requested headcaons about MC’s family reacting to the brothers showing up and I have yet another request for ye, May we get some headcaons for Papa MC showing the brothers MC’s childhood photos? Them as a cute chubby baby, scribbling all over walls, getting braces (I saw a headcaon that was about them freaking out at the concept of braces and I just thought it was hilarious ), playing sports, their date for prom, and finally highschool graduation pics, Mama MC still doesn’t like any of them and is glaring at her husband for letting his guard down while MC is just rotting into the couch in embarrassment lol.

[ Related: "Mom, Dad, meet seven of my boyfriends" | "Mom, Dad, these are my other four boyfriends and my son" ]

"Mom, Dad, please stop showing my seven boyfriends pictures of me in the bath."

...is what you would have said if Dad hadn't already moved on from that picture to one of you with your face covered in Spaghettio's. Your dad is sitting on the couch between the twins, the five older brothers all huddled behind them as he flips through a photo album. It's only been a few days since he met the brothers, and while he was openly hostile towards them at first, he's quickly come to appreciate the fantastic sounding board they are for his ramblings on his beloved child. They're engaged, curious, and they ask all the right questions.

"Maybe we were too judgmental about that cult," your dad said to your mom the other day as you rubbed your temples. You've given up saying that there was no cult. You hardly even believe yourself anymore.

Mom has been glaring at Dad since he took out the family album he'd brought with him, but it had done her about as much good as glaring at him had done me.

Now, for a trip down memory lane...

You as a Newborn Baby

You, freshly out of the womb, with a red face contorted into an ugly sob.

"What's that?" Beel asks as he squints at the photo of the squirming infant that barely resembled a human.

"That's a baby, Beel," mumbles Lucifer.

"What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing is wrong with it. Babies are just ugly when they first come out," Belphie explains.

"MC wasn't ugly when they first came out," Beel argues with a frown.

"Beel," Levi sighs. "That is MC."

"....Oh."

You with your Baby Sister

You're almost two and you're leaning over your mother as she holds your newborn baby sister.

"What is happening here?" Satan asks, perplexed. "There are two infants."

"Sure are," Dad says proudly. "That's MC, and that there is their little sister. You met her, didn't you, Derek?"

Satan says nothing, but still somehow manages to sound moody.

"She's our wildchild. Or, she was. Turns out MC has a bit of a crazy streak too. Isn't that right, MC?"

You say nothing. You're a little moody yourself.

You Crying on a Pony

You're about two years old at some autumn festival, your face frozen forever in a pitiful shriek of terror while you sit on the back of a docile pony while your dad walks beside you.

"Did that animal make you cry?" asks Belphie.

"As you can see from the evidence in this photograph, yes."

Belphie mutters something under his breath about making it suffer.

"That's from over 20 years ago. It's probably dead by now."

"Good."

"Belphie!"

You Taking a Bath

You're about three years old, and you and your sister are in the bathtub, naked as the day you were born, playing with bath toys.

"Humans have rubber duckies?" asks Levi.

"Humans?" Your dad gives him a funny look.

"Haha! Oh, Levi. He meant *Americans*. Sure we do, Levi!"

"It's strange that they let you take photos of them in the bath. I don't think they'd let someone do that anymore," Asmo sighs sadly. "MC, where did your sense of playfulness go?"

Trying to explain to these people that small human children are fundamentally unlike human adults is like talking to an especially inflexible brick wall.

You Dressed for Winter

You're standing in a thick coat, scarf, hat, mittens, snow pants, and snow boots. Your arms are practically stuck in the air at your sides.

This seems excessive, comments Lucifer.

Winters can get pretty cold in this part of the country, your dad explains.

Nonetheless, this seems excessive.

This was entirely normal outerwear for a six-year-old child going outside in the snow in January.

Nevertheless, Lucifer says, it seems excessive.

You remind Lucifer about the booties and doggy jacket he dresses Cerberus in when it snows in the Devildom and he stops making such judgmental statements about your parents.

You with Braces

It's a school photo. You're about thirteen. years old, and you're sporting braces. It's a painful memory.

"What happened to your mouth? Asmo gasps in alarm. "Who did that to your teeth?!"

Those are braces, Dad tells him.

"Braces?"

They straighten out your teeth bit by bit over the course of a long stretch of time.

And who did this to Asmo's precious MC?

The orthodontist, your Dad tries to explain, but Asmo is so disgusted he can barely stand to look at the picture.

You and your Prom Date

You're about seventeen, standing beside a boy around the same age, smiling into the camera. You're both dressed in formalwear and you both look vaguely uncomfortable.

"Hey, why's that kid lookin' so cozy with MC?" Mammon narrows his eyes at the photo album.

"That's Sam Jorgenson. Hey MC, you remember Sam Jorgenson?" your dad asks you.

Yes, you remember Sam Jorgenson, your on-again off-again high school boyfriend. You were always breaking up because of some stupid thing or another, and you were always getting back together over even stupider stuff.

"Why's he holdin' onto you like that?" Mammon asks accusatorially.

"Why are you looking at me like that? That's probably from my senior prom." You aren't looking at the photo, but you can guess which picture it is. "He was my date."

Mammon looks kind of devastated. Like he had expected to be the first guy to ever be your date to anything.

"Listen, Mammon, you're my first lots-of-stuff, but I had a life before I came to...um. Virginia. I wasn't saving myself for some hypothetical... 'backpacker' during my teenage years."

Mammon seems to feel like he barely knows you anymore.

You tell him that's just too damn bad, but Sam Jorgenson had a PS4 and beautiful blue eyes so you're not really that sorry.

#lucifer #mammon #levi #satan #asmo #beel #belphie #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me hcs #dthc #hcs #ask response #mc #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me swd

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year

Note

Would you consider doing a smutty see no evil part 2. Or really just anything with these too. I’m loving the representation with the deaf reader.

Thank you so much! It would be my pleasure 💗

See No Evil, Hear No Evil {2}

Aemond Targaryen x deaf!fem!reader

Summary: It is your wedding night and a night of many firsts. Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, first time sex, oral, smut, fluff WC: 3k

Part One || Part Two || Part Three ||

Imperceptible tremors shook your body as your maids left your chambers and you had the first moment to yourself all day. The dress was unlike any other you wore and you knew you would never wear one like it again, you had no intention of ever wedding another. The seamstress had outdone herself as you traced the flowers that were embroidered into the bodice at your request, violets and hyacinths for the colour of Aemond’s eye.

The polished silver mirror seemed to hold another person entirely as you stared at the reflection. She was the elegant lady you had watched enviously in grandiose gowns of vibrant colours, she was the confident courtier that men fought over, she was everything you had dreamed of as a child. You were beautiful.

Your happiness radiated from the smile that had not left your face since Aemond had proposed this marriage and Alicent had welcomed you into her family with a warm hug. Nothing could dim your smile, especially when your union would be complete at sundown in the Sept. You wished the sun would hurry its path across the sky so you could see your husband-to-be but your mother always said, good things come to those who wait.

If only your mother and father were able to make it to your wedding, but the treacherous road had been plagued by bandits and unfortunately, to the Lords at least, daughters were not worth the risk of travel.

The door opened slowly and you broke away from your reflection to see Alicent peek around the corner before her hands flew to her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes and you could see her jaw moving but you couldn’t see her lips. You pointed to your eye then your lips before shaking your head and she dropped her hands sheepishly as she realised you couldn’t see what she was saying.

“You look absolutely lovely, my dear,” she said as she clasped her hands over her heart. “There is no other better suited together than you and my Aemond. He has been a better man since he met you, a happier one too.”

She took your hands and smiled as she noticed the floral embroidery. “You compliment each other so well.”

Your smile widened as you laughed and her lips parted as a blush turned her cheeks pink. “I, I didn’t mean like that.”

You reached for a sheet of parchment that rested on the table and held it out to her, the vows you would be making in mere hours.

I shall be your eyes, and you shall be my ears. Together, we are complete.

“Oh, look what you’ve done,” she said as the tears that had been brewing began to slip over her lashes and down her heated cheeks. Placing the page back where it was, she produced a prepared handkerchief from her dress and wiped away the tears before taking a seat on the settee and patted the space next to her. “I already think of you like a daughter so if you ever need any advice, know you can always come to me.

“My mother wasn’t there on my wedding day either and it’s an ache I remember well. I wish she could have been there to tell me what I was to expect, the duties of a wife.”

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion and she took your hand. “Did your mother explain the act of consummation?”

Your mother probably worried that you would be a spinster so she had not bothered with the conversation but you had spied some stories from the servants and knew the basics. Shaking your head, Alicent nodded knowingly to herself and placed her hands on her lap.

“Well, no matter, we have time. Losing one’s maidenhead can be painful but after the first few times it gets easier.”

Your lips parted with a slow breath and your stomach felt like it tumbled deeper into your body. When the servants had spoken of their experiences most had a smile on their face and regaled the pleasures they found in the act. They had even detailed a studious link between the size of the manhood to the fun that could be had. The only ones who had mentioned pain had received the unwanted touch of a man and a bolt of fear ran down your spine.

“I’ve scared you,” Alicent said as she recoiled back. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to frighten you, I just don’t want you to find out as I did - and the shock that came with it.”

You squeezed her hand reassuringly and her shoulders sagged with relief but relief was not what you felt inside as you stared out the window and saw the sun creep towards the horizon. Something cold touched your wrist and your eyes darted back to the Queen as she offered you a silver bracelet.

“Aemond asked me to give you this,” she said as she clasped it around your wrist and you held it up to see the small sapphires that caught the light. You had never received such a special gift before and you felt the fear of the unknown slip away with the tear that ran down your cheek. “Oh, no, no more tears today.”

Alicent wiped the teardrop away, careful not to smudge the makeup that enhanced your natural features. Her gentleness warmed you and when she stood to make her way to the Sept you pulled her into a hug that showed your appreciation.

“Shall we?” she asked as she offered her elbow and you looked at the sun that still hadn’t completely set. “If I know my Aemond, he will already be there.”

The Queen knew her son well as you arrived at the Sept earlier than scheduled and found Aemond shifting nervously with his back to you. He had not been this nervous when he was facing down knights in the tourney but the tension in him released the moment he turned and saw you waiting.

Alicent took your hand that rested on her forearm and placed it into Aemond’s larger hand, warmth enveloping it as he laced your fingers together.

“You look beautiful, my love,” he said with a stunned smile as he stepped back as far as he could without releasing your hand and looked over you from head to toe. “The most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms.”

You took a step closer and lifted your hand to cradle his cheek as your thumb caressed his scar that he had not hidden, not on a day like today. He wanted you to see all of him, accept all of him, as you were wed.

Vibrations beat along the wooden floors of the Sept and you looked around to find the High Septon had arrived and butted his staff to the floor for attention. The few guests that had been invited to witness the ceremony turned to face the High Septon and you cast your eyes over them knowing they were your new family.

Helaena smiled warmly as she caught you looking and Maelor waved a chubby hand from where he bounced on her hip. You smiled back and waved to the little boy before following Aemond’s lead, standing face to face with not an ounce of doubt in your heart that this was where you were meant to be.

You had not wished for a grand feast that was common after a highborn wedding and Aemond had been more than happy to celebrate more intimately with a family dinner. King Viseyrs had stayed as long as he was able to but the illness that plagued him forced him to retire early. It had not stopped him from giving a heartfelt speech that Aemond repeated for you since the mask hid half of the King’s face.

You were well and truly a member of the Targaryen family, something that only six months earlier would have terrified you.

“A toast to my lady wife,” Aemond said, rising to his feet and lifting his goblet as he looked around the table. “I thought the only thing I was missing was an eye, until I met you.”

Alicent wiped her eyes with a laugh and raised her goblet before everyone else followed suit. You sipped your wine and wondered if the sudden warmth in your belly was from the potation or the love when you looked at your husband. Your stare lingered on him over the rim of the silver chalice and the bodice of the gown was too tight to breathe as he returned the longing look.

“Ready to retire, my love?” he asked as his eye focused on the way you bit your lip in anticipation and you nodded eagerly, accepting his hand as he pulled your chair out.

Aegon grinned at Aemond as he bid his family a good night but you pointedly ignored how he mouthed ‘have fun’ to his little brother before you were turned away to face the door. The corridors had never felt so long as you headed towards the wing that the royals occupied, where your new rooms would be from this night forth.

“Would you like a drink?” Aemond asked as he closed the heavy wooden door to his quarters.

You shrugged unsure as you looked around the room that you had not been permitted to enter before your union. Books were stacked on every available surface while weapons hung from hooks along the walls and a comfortable looking settee faced the smouldering fire. Everywhere you looked you saw an extension of Aemond and his scent hung in the air, welcoming you home.

Strong arms curled around your waist and Aemond rested his chin on your shoulder as he kissed your neck sweetly before turning you to face him. “My mother said she spoke to you and I want you to know that I have no expectations for how this night will go.”

Your eyebrows pinched together and a pang of hurt sent you a step backwards before he caught you. “What I mean is, there is no rush, I want you to be comfortable and ready for when we take that step.”

You didn’t think you could possibly love him anymore than you already did but he continued to surprise you, and you surprised him as you threw your arms around his neck and crushed your lips to his. His hands caught your waist and pulled you flush against him as he deepened the kiss and you melted in his embrace.

Your courage renewed, you took his hand and walked further into his chambers, towards the four post bed. You could see the question in his eye and you nodded with a shy smile as you looked up from under your lashes. You dropped his hand so you could sign the honest truth to him, I trust you.

With such sweet tenderness he claimed your neck with his lips while his fingers unlaced the gown, letting it fall from your shoulders to pool at your feet. The thin silk shift left little to the imagination and his eye widened as you were revealed like a precious gift to him.

“My beautiful wife,” Aemond said with a proud smile that sent your heart hammering wildly. “I want to feel your hands on me.”

Your fingers trembled as you reached for the clasps that kept his tunic fitted tight across his body, you didn’t want to mess up but from the flutter of his eye you knew he was enjoying the feel of each restricting fastener opening. Pale flesh was stark against the black leather that you pushed over his shoulders and his chest vibrated with a satisfied hum as you placed your palm over his heart.

“You will be the death of me.”

Your lips curled with a shake of your head and you let your finger trail along the natural dips of his muscles and through the soft blonde curls that began at his navel.

“Perhaps I am already dead, for nothing should feel this glorious.”

His words were liquid fire across your skin and a throb between your legs pulsed in time to your heartbeat. Needing to feel his hands on more of you, you curled your thumbs into the thin straps at your shoulders and pushed them off, letting the shift float to the floor.

Cool air kissed your skin as you fought the urge to curl your arms over yourself but there would be no hiding tonight. Aemond’s chest expanded rapidly as he bit his lip at the sight and your back arched into his touch when he grazed his knuckles over your pebbled nipples.

Your lips parted in delight and he froze.

“Oh gods, how sweet you sound,” he said before dipping his head to your breasts that grew more sensitive with each passing moment. Your head tipped back as you buried your fingers in his hair and the throb between your legs turned to an ache.

Aemond’s tongue teased your nipples until you saw stars and you hadn’t realised he had been guiding you back until your legs hit the bed. He pulled away with a salacious suck that had your jaw dropping and he grinned as he gently laid you down on his mattress.

“I could listen to you moan for eternity and it still would not be long enough.”

Your fingers curled into the blankets beside you as he settled on his knees between your legs that subconsciously tried to close under the intensity of his heated stare.

“Is this alright?” he asked as his thumbs drew small circles along your inner thigh.

You took a deep breath and let yourself relax before nodding. His touch teased higher and you could barely breathe when his thumbs parted your folds and he dipped his head for a wicked kiss. The air rushed out of you as the heat of his tongue lashed through your slit and your knees closed around his shoulders with the pleasure that erupted.

You pushed up on your elbows to see what he was doing to you and found him staring back, his sapphire eye reflecting the candlelight while his violet eye had a fire of its own. You could not look away as you watched his cheeks hollow and felt his lips seal over the spot that ached with need.

You collapsed to the bed as he sucked your swollen nub to the point of delirium and then his finger was there, pressing at your entrance and stretching you as he had started with his tongue. The coil in your belly only grew tighter as he added another finger and you could only imagine how good it would feel to be filled with his manhood. The thought alone triggered the blissful release the servants spoke of and your hips rocked shamelessly against Aemond as wave after wave crested.

Your husband placed a soft kiss to your trembling thigh before he sat up and you remembered that he was still half dressed as he palmed the strained erection confined in his trousers. I want you, you signed, all of you.

He was already unlacing the cord that held his trousers snug to his hips as he said, “You already have me.”

Nervousness chased away the haze that release had brought as his length sprung free and you gulped at the size.

“I will be gentle,” he reassured you as he kicked his trousers off the bed and settled once more between your legs, only this time his cock hung warm and heavy across your thigh. “And I can stop if it’s too much, just tap my shoulder.”

You curled your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck as you drew him closer to you, capturing his lips and conveying everything you couldn’t say. His cock teased at your entrance and he slowly rocked against you until the resistance ceased and a sharp burning sensation had your fingers clenching the strands of hair they were tangled in.

“Are you hurt?” he asked as he pulled back and scanned your face.

The small shift when he pulled back drew a different kind of sensation and the way it felt as his cock dragged along your tight walls sent a shiver down your spine. You tightened your legs and kept him from withdrawing completely as you shook your head. He stared into your eyes a moment longer, giving you the opportunity to change your mind, before he slowly eased back in and your muscle began to relax.

Aemond kept his promise to be gentle but soon enough the long slow strokes didn’t sate the need growing within you. Your nails danced down his spine and encouraged him to move faster as his kiss stole the very air from your lungs until your body burned for him. He was everywhere all at once, his arms around you, his cock in you. You would never get enough of him.

Your back arched as heat spread across your body, radiating from your core that was tightening with each thrust until you were sure you would explode. Lost in the waves of ecstasy, you buried your face in Aemond’s neck and held him tight as his body shuddered and you felt his cock pulse with his release.

A fine sheen of sweat coated your body as Aemond eased himself from you and collapsed to the mattress with a lazy smile gracing his face. You instantly missed the full feeling but he pulled you into his arms and pressed his lips to your forehead as you laid your head on his chest. He held his hand up since you couldn’t see his face and he curled his middle and ring finger down signing, I love you.

Aemond’s heart hammered beneath your head and the steady beat reverberated through you, lulling you into a sweet trance as you held your own hand up to his like a mirror. If only you could spend everyday forever entwined as you were at this moment, you both deserved the happiness that saturated the room.

Tilting your head back so you could see the love reflected in Aemond’s eye, you pressed your fingers to your chin. “You never have to thank me,” he replied. “You are my everything.”

Click here for part three.

#aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond imagine #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #deaf!reader #house of the dragon aemond #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond fic #aemond fluff #aemond smut #hotd fanfic

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themidnightcrimson · 1 year

Text

religion ࿏ wm

summary: in which the new reverend at your hometown church wants to give you a lesson on sexual immorality.

words: 5.6K

warnings: pastor!wanda, fem!reader, oral (r giving), fingering (r receiving), slight non-con/dubcon, manipulation, dumbification, degradation, religion, lots of bible verses, rip my religious trauma, spank me with a bible, fuck me with the crucifix, yes lord in wanda's name we pray amen

this post is for 18+ only. minors dni.

masterlist.

A few women in the church had put together a potluck after one Sunday sermon, or a “covered dish supper” as the elders liked to call them. You remembered loving those potlucks as much as you loved church itself when you were a child. As the years went by and your worldview got bigger and your mind opened up to the broader possibilities that this was not what life should be like, you scarcely ever went to church.

Upon moving away for college, the idea of church was a laughable thing to you. You could hardly even remember what the rituals were anymore, or the verses, or the hymns. It wasn’t necessarily a hatred or aversion, but rather a bitter distaste in your mouth when reminded of how indoctrinated you and your whole community were into the church. You just weren’t religious anymore, and you preferred living life that way, though it took years of untying the knots of theological principals and “truths” from your mind.

When you were back in your hometown for a visit, your mother nearly fell over at the sight of the little rainbow bracelet on your wrist. After a very heated conversation where you threw in her face the fact that you had been with multiple women in college, she seemed to give up and leave the conversation alone—until the next morning she asked you to come to church with her.

“Really? You think going to church is going to reverse the way that I was born? You expect me to just pray the gay away?!” you yelled at her, but she was calm. She said that was not her intentions, but rather they were to simply have you come see everyone you grew up around. She said that there was a new pastor there who was younger and could relate better to youth without that kind of feigned wise judgment that the other pastor, a wobbly old man, used.

You fought tooth and nail against your mom in a thirty-minute argument until finally you were just too tired to fight against her anymore. You felt how you did in high school—getting lectured by your mom for skipping church only a single Sunday, being placed under her godly ray of obstinance that so easily drained you until you just couldn’t fight anymore. She forced you to wear one of your church dresses from high school and practically shoved you into the car that Sunday morning. You were just looking forward to the potluck afterward.

As your mom pulled the car into the church’s parking lot, you realized that they had done renovations on the sanctuary since you had been gone. It was bigger now, with huge mosaic windows facing the front and a new pure white cross on top of the spire, making the triangular building look even taller and more pointed than it already was.

“This new pastor a millionaire or something?” you mumbled as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

“No, she’s just so brilliant and amazing that she’s attracted dozens of new parishioners since she came,” she explained. “You’ll see. She really has a way of connecting with young people, especially young women. I couldn’t tell you how many girls your age have joined in the past year!”

Crinkling your eyebrows, you stepped out of the car and took a breath of fresh air. Even in the parking lot, you could pick up that familiar smell of wood and old books. “The pastor is a woman?” you asked, remembering only male pastors. Although your denomination was open towards female pastors, the general misogyny of your small-town Southern community had always favored men, of course.

“Uh huh,” your mother said as she stepped out of the car and fixed her hair in the wind, walking over to you and gently grabbing your arm suddenly. “Y/n, I should probably let you know… I did call Reverend Maximoff last night and told her a little about your…situation.”

Your eyes widened as you stared at her incredulously. “What?!” Had your mother really gone and called the local pastor to tell her that her daughter was gay?

“Look, it’s important for a pastor to know their parishioners’ personal lives in order to truly connect with them. I’m not saying I asked her to… pray the gay away or whatever you said, but I just let her know that you were having some…sexually immoral feelings. She’s helped many young women here with the same problem.”

“Excuse me?!” you exclaimed, jerking your arm away from your hand. An old couple walking by glanced over at you, and you blushed and looked away, speaking quieter. “Why the hell would you tell some woman I don’t even know that I’m having sex with women?!”

“She’s not some woman, she’s an ordained minister of God!” your mother exclaimed. “She’s not going to drag you up in front of the church and hang you, for God’s sake! She was just concerned that you’re not living your life under the guidance of God and would be happy to give you a steering hand, that’s all! She didn’t even say anything about the gay part—just the promiscuity!”

Curse words formed on your lips, but you pursed them together, pushing past your mother and towards the church so you could get this thing over with. “Promiscuity my ass,” you muttered as you burst open the church doors, hit with that familiar old smell. It looked different now that it had been renovated, the ceiling and windows much taller and the carpet redone, but it was the same wooden pews you remembered as a child and the same large altar with a grand piano and steps for the choir.

You looked around at all the familiar townspeople sitting in the pews as the choir, dressed in their robes and holding their hymnals, made their way to the chancel in formation. You realized that your mother was right when she said that the church had grown—all of the pews were jammed full of people, except for a little spot near the front where there was enough room for two people to squeeze in. Feeling aggravated and brash, you stormed to the front and shimmied past the row of people to sit down in the empty spot, your mother scrambling down beside you.

“Please don’t be angry in the house of God,” she began.

You ignored her, looking around and seeing that there were groups of young women your age looking excitedly towards the altar, waiting for the pastor to come out. You assumed maybe the pastor had started a women’s group and was just mentoring the young women.

Reaching forward, you took the hymnal book sitting in the slot behind the pew in front of you, opening up its yellowed pages and flipping through. You could still remember some of the songs, but before you could read one, there was a hushing whisper among the congregation.

Glancing upwards, you saw Reverend Maximoff emanating from behind the altar, glancing out among the ground with a smile as she stepped to the front. You were shocked to see her—she was older than you, but not by too much. She had a youthful smile to her face and twinkling green eyes, her blonde hair cut right to the shoulders of the maroon robe and dark green stole she wore.

“Good morning, everyone,” she announced, her voice loud and confident. The church crowd silenced and gave their full attention to her. “Today we will start by worshiping the Lord our God with our choir’s beautiful voices, as well as your own.” Her Southern accent was feminine and airy with a cheerful tune to it, as if she was already singing by simply speaking. “Please turn to page 304 in your hymnals and stand to worship the Lord with us.”

The sound of people standing and pages turning filled your ears, and you found yourself flipping to the page and standing up along with everyone else, realizing that your muscle memory was still there. It felt odd being in that place again, viewing the solemnity and respect of religion in a community sense.

The choir started, and then the rest of the church joined in, singing the hymn in unison. You didn’t sing at first, until your mother’s elbow stabbed your ribcage, so you quietly mumbled the words.

Glancing up, you watched Reverend Maximoff singing at her stand, face turned towards the choir and grinning at them as the words formed on her lips. You had to admit that for a pastor, she was beautiful and charming. Her smile was nearly mesmerizing as her head slowly turned towards the congregation in appreciation for their singing, eyes casting over the pews of people until they flickered near you. Realizing that you were staring, you quickly glanced down at the book before she could make eye contact with you. Feeling suddenly nervous, you mindlessly stared at the book until you figured she would be looking somewhere else, looking back up only to find that she was looking right at you.

All you could hear were the choral praises of God as the Reverend’s eyes bore into yours. The smile on her face faded a little, her focus zoning in on you through the crowd. You remembered what your mother had told her about you, the thought bringing a sickly blush of shame to your cheeks. Why was she staring at you? Was she judging you? Thinking about what a dirty sinner you were? You couldn’t take it, but you couldn’t look away either.

Finally, the song ended, and she broke eye contact.

“Thank you so much. You may please be seated.”

The crowd sat down and put their hymnals away as the choir did the same, and once everyone was finally still and quiet, the Reverend opened her Bible and started flipping through pages to find notes for her sermon.

“Today, people, we will be talking about the one thing we think about almost all of the time—our bodies.” Your teeth ached as you braced yourself for whatever religious bullshit was about to be shoved down your throat. “Our bodies—whether it be our health, our appearance, the work we can do with them, what we eat, what we drink—our bodies remain a constant thought in our mind.”

She stepped out from behind the stand, walking to the front steps of the altar and peering out at the crowd with her luring eyes like a bird.

“God tells us in His Word that our bodies are a temple for the Holy Spirit. You see, we do not own our flesh and blood. Our body is a sacrament to Him in everything we do with it. Our divine purpose on this Earth is to use our bodies the Lord has given us as a vessel for the Spirit, to spread His Holy Word. If our bodies are unholy, or if we use them to transgress against His Word, we are violating His purpose for them.”

As much as you wanted to dissociate and just block out whatever she was saying, a strange curiosity overcame you that kept your eyes trained on her as she stepped down the altar steps to get even closer to the crowd, holding the Bible in her hands.

“There are many ways that we sin with our bodies every day. When your mouth curses, when your hands do not pray to Him, when your feet lead you to unholy places. One of the most extreme ways that we go against the Holy Spirit within us is when we commit the very sin that seems to have a grasp on the youth today—sexual immorality.”

There it was. You bit the inside of your cheek and took a deep breath, trying to control the anger within you.

“I want y’all to turn to one of my favorite passages in the Word,” she said, turning to walk towards the other side of the pew as she waited for people to turn to the verse. “1 Corinthians 6:13.”

You wouldn’t dare to pick up a Bible. You crossed your arms and ignored your mother’s urging glances as the Reverend started to read.

“You say, food for the stomach and the stomach for the food, and God will destroy them both. The body, however, is not meant for sexual immorality but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body,” she called out, her voice echoing off the walls of the large room. You watched her, her back turned from you, as she paced the other side of the room before turning, walking towards your side of the pew with her eyes trained on the book. “By his power God raised the Lord from the dead, and he will raise us also. Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ himself? Shall I then take the members of Christ and unite them with a prostitute? Never!”

You rolled your eyes and rubbed your forehead, wishing you could escape this cultish experience. Still, you watched her, the way her lips formed the words, the way her face looked pointed down to the book, eyelashes dancing across her cheeks as she read the words.

“But whoever is united with the Lord is one with him in spirit.” She turned down the center aisle, and as she got closer to your pew, you started to shift uncomfortably in your seat. Suddenly, her eyes lifted from the pages and pierced you sideways. You felt frozen under her stare as she discreetly eyed you, not even having to look at the page to recite, “Flee from sexual immorality. All other sins a person commits are outside the body, but whoever sins sexually, sins against their own body.”

Her voice was lower now, serious and clear. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from hers as she slowly floated past you, her robe wafting around her ankles. You noticed the way her svelte hands held the Bible, a single digit lifting to flick the page. You could’ve sworn you saw a smirk on her lips as she finally looked away from you and kept preaching, walking down the aisle.

Finally, you could breathe. Surprise filled you as you realized that you had started sweating—were you really so demonic that you were sweating in the pews of a church? But why did she look right at you as she read that particular verse? Was she targeting you because of what your mother had said?

You could barely listen to the rest of the sermon as she talked about sexual immorality and fleeing from it by turning your mind and body towards the Lord.

At the potluck, you couldn’t help but find your eyes drifting to wherever Reverend Maximoff was in the room. Potlucks were always held in a building connected to the sanctuary where they had special events and meetings. She drifted around the room chatting with different members of the congregation, her eyes somehow always finding yours right as you were looking at her. You would blush and quickly look away, redirecting your focus on what the old lady was talking to you and your mom about.

You didn’t realize that she was waiting for you to be alone. Finally, you left your mom and the lady to go to the table filled with homemade desserts, browsing around for something chocolate.

A hand on your lower back made you gasp and turn. You were shocked to see Reverend Maximoff standing close beside you, still dressed in her robes. “Y/n,” she greeted you with a pearly smile, her earrings dangling from her ears. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Your mom has talked about you so much since I’ve been here.”

“Oh,” you said with a polite smile. “Has she?”

“Yes,” she smoothly answered, stepping even closer to you. “I’m very glad you came today. I must tell you that the Lord has speaking to my heart about you quite a lot.”

“Oh yea?” you said disinterestedly, more focused on the way her eyes kept darting down your body, trying to pinpoint why she was ogling you.

She tilted her head and closed her smile, looking thoughtful for a brief moment before saying, “You know, I was hoping you would have a session with me here sometime, before you go back to college. I would love to talk more with you and get to know you. You were at this church long before I was, and I would love to give you some heavenly advice on whatever is pressing at your heart.”

Your eyebrows rose. “Nothing’s pressing at my heart but my ribcage.”

She giggled, and it surprised you. “No, there’s always something for pretty young women like you.” You flushed a little at her choice of words. “God has a plan for you, y/n, but I get the feeling you may need some guidance to get you there.”

“You get these feelings a lot?” you droned, picking up a brownie from the table and taking a bite, keeping eye contact with her. You weren’t going to let this pastor try to get her godly claws in you.

Her eyes flickered to your mouth as you took a bite of the brownie, her irises darkening. “Come see me after the Wednesday night sermon. Maybe…” She reached forward and took the half-eaten brownie from your hand, her fingers grazing yours. “I can teach you to use your mouth to praise the Lord.”

She put the half of the brownie into her mouth and chewed it with a smirk. Frozen and confused, you stared at her as she put her thumb in her mouth to suck off the crumbs, winking and floating away from you. Your entire body went hot as her words folded over in your mind, as well as the sight of her eating the brownie you had just had between your teeth.

Normally, you would’ve declined any invitation to have personal sessions with a Reverend, but the brief interaction you had with Reverend Maximoff had you offput and curious. Your mother almost cried in relief when you told her that you would be going to the Wednesday night sermon as well as staying behind to speak with the Reverend.

Wednesday’s sermon went the same as Sunday’s. There were less people there that night, naturally, and although Wednesday night sermons were usually shorter than Sunday’s, it seemed like Reverend Maximoff was antsy to be finished with it. She spoke faster with less focus, ending the sermon after only an hour. Your mother excitedly hurried away with the rest of the congregation, and you anxiously stayed in the pew as the Reverend talked with some lingering people until finally she ushered them all out, closing and locking the church doors behind the last person.

You turned your head and watched her as she sighed, holding onto the doors for a moment before turning around to look at you, clasping her hands at her front.

“Y/n,” she began lowly, turning her face down slightly as her eyes trained on you, her feet slowly leading her up the aisle towards you. “I was so glad when I saw you here tonight.”

“Well,” you began, fiddling with your thumbs. “I didn’t have anything else to do tonight.”

It was only partially true. You could have caught up with your old friends or went out to dinner or even just stayed home and watched TV, but something lured you into that church that night, and you felt it had something to do with the way she predatorily eyed you as she neared you.

She said nothing as she came closer, sucking her cheeks as you could see words forming in her brain. “Keep watch over yourselves and all the flock of which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers. Be shepherds of the church of God, which he bought with his own blood.” A smirk drew itself on her lips. “Acts 20:28.”

You just raised your eyebrows and nodded impressively. “You have the Bible memorized. Good for you.”

Ignoring your sly comment, she spoke, “It means that, as the Reverend of this church, it is my duty to be a shepherd.”

“That is what the verse says.”

Her eyes narrowed at you, her lips parted at distaste of your attitude. “What did I tell you about your mouth?” she snapped, her voice edged and cutting as it echoed loudly off the walls of the church, reminding you how alone you were with her. You stiffened in the pew.

She neared you, resting a hand on the edge of the pew as she stood before you. “As a shepherd, I must keep watch of my flock. I must be aware of them all the time—their lives, feelings, behaviors, their walk with God.” She paused, her tongue settling over her lower lip as she tilted her head. “Tell me, what path do you walk?”

You blinked, lips opening and closing as you tried to understand what she was asking.

“Do you walk the ways of the wicked? The ways of Satan himself?” Without breaking eye contact, she lowered and sat on the pew beside you. “Does your body sin against the Spirit?”

Looking down, you shook your head and laughed. “I know my mom told you. Believe me when I say I have no inclination to your religion, and I never will. I don’t need to be scrutinized or judged.”

“Your mother was only acting as a shepherd by leading you to me, and I thank her for that,” she remarked, her eyes glancing down at your dress where the ends stopped at your mid-thigh, leaving your legs bare. “I fear you are not treating your body as the temple of God it is. You have tainted it with your sexual proclivities, haven’t you, y/n?”

Your face started to burn at her outright words. “Excuse me?”

“Tell me, how do you prefer to use your body? Like a whore? Like a destitute slut?”

Ears burning at the sound of her husky voice, your face burned even hotter. The shock of her words left you speechless and utterly confused as to how a Reverend would speak to someone that way.

“You can tell me, y/n. Only God is watching us.” She reached forward suddenly, placing her hand on your thigh and sliding it upwards. The touch startled you and made you jump to your feet.

She looked up at you with a twisted smirk as you started to tremble with nervousness. “What kind of a Reverend are you?”

“One who will do anything to guide her people to God,” she lilted, standing up and reaching for you again. You backed away, bumping into the wooden back of the pew and circling around it to get away from her. You jumped up the steps of the altar.

“What are you doing?!”

“So Christ himself gave the apostles,” she began in her pastor voice she used during the sermon, circling the pew to saunter towards you again, stalking like a predator, “the prophets, the evangelists, the pastors and teachers, to equip his people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up.” She took a slow step up the altar, grinning devilishly. “Ephesians 4:11-12.” She lowered her chin. “I can help you restore your body’s temple. I can sanctify you, make you whole again in the eyes of the Lord.”

Your heartbeat fluttered at the way she was seductively eyeing you, sauntering up the steps, the sultry and sensual tone in her voice. You let her come near you and place a hand on your waist that made you shiver all over.

Whispering, she said, “As God’s apostle, I offer you a direct line to worship Him and beg for forgiveness.” Her other hand softly cupped your chin, feeling the blushing skin here. Her thumb grazed over your lower lip, her dilated eyes drinking up your mouth like thick wine, and she recited, “May my prayer be set before you like incense; may the lifting up of my hands be like the evening sacrifice.”

The verse burned in your ears—it was one you had memorized for Sunday school so many years ago and somehow still subconsciously remembered. You whispered, “Psalms 141:2.”

Her grin widened. “Good girl.” She licked her lips, thumb still grazing your own. “From the fruit of their mouth a person’s stomach is filled; with the harvest of their lips they are satisfied. The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit. Proverbs 18:20-21.”

It became hard to breathe when two of her fingers slipped through your lips and sunk slowly over your tongue.

“What goes into someone’s mouth does not defile them, but what comes out of their mouth, that is what defiles them. Matthew 15:11,” she recited, her own lips parting in a sigh as she slid her fingers further into your mouth.

A soft noise escaped your throat as you let her feel your mouth, your legs becoming weak. Her grip on your waist tightened when you flicked your tongue between her fingers and closed your lips, sucking dutifully on them. She jutted her lower teeth in desire, stepping so close to you that there was no room to breathe. Your skin felt hot all over, and you became suddenly aware of the cross hanging at the front of the altar, as if it were burning into your back.

The Reverend licked the back of her teeth, eyes trained on her fingers disappearing into your mouth as she whispered, “Shall you use your tongue to praise the Lord our God?”

A dirty sucking sound escaped your mouth as you sucked her fingers, and you were so under her trance, her beautiful green eyes, the way she was so enamored with your mouth, that you eagerly nodded around her fingers.

A half smile curled on her open lips as she slid her fingers out of your mouth, placing a hand on your shoulder and harshly pushing you down. Your knees hit the velvet red steps of the altar as Reverend Maximoff, standing on the step below you, placed one leg on the upper step and started to lift up her robe. You kneeled, watching in all of God’s glory, with the church’s mosaic windows behind her, as the Reverend lifted up her maroon robes and bunched them with one hand at her hips, exposing her bare pussy. With one foot on the step below your knees, and the other foot beside your knees, she tilted open her thigh and placed a hand on the back of your head.

You shivered at the feeling of her fingers in your hair as she pushed your head towards her, bucking her hips. You were filled with pulsing desire as you placed your hands gently on her hips and let her draw your mouth towards her, opening your lips and finding her slick folds. Your tongue ran over her slit, and you moaned at her taste, at how she was so wet that her juices already covered your lips.

Reverend Maximoff sighed, leaning her head back as you found her clit and started to lap at it. “Oh, God!” she exclaimed, pushing her hips towards your face as you suckled on her clit.

You could hardly keep up with her as she pushed your head and bucked her hips at the same time, forcing her clit onto your tongue. Your mouth involuntarily closed when one particular thrust of your head was too rough, to which she snapped, “Open your mouth! Proverbs 31:26—She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.” Her sentence ended with a piercing moan as you opened your mouth wider for her and let her fuck it as she pleased.

Whining from the force, you furiously tried to pleasure her—as much as you could with the way she was practically pleasuring herself with your mouth like it was a toy. You melted at the sounds of her moans and gasps that echoed in the church, at the way that you were kneeling on the altar with your head between her legs, at the way her hand was tangled in your hair. Her clit tangibly throbbed on your tongue as her hips thrusted harder, her moans rising in pitch.

“Oh, God! Oh, God!” she screamed as she came, grinding her clit against your tongue and grabbing your hair so hard that your scalp ached. You struggled to breathe, eyes tearing up from the pressure on your face, listening to her catch her breath and loosen her grip on your hair. Finally, she moved away from you, dropping her robe back down her ankles. You were panting, lips puffy and red and covered in her wetness, eyes glistening as you stared up at her, drunk with lust. She grinned, biting her lip. “You serve the Lord well. Come.”

She offered out her hands, and you took them, letting her help you to her feet and guide you to the front pew. She sat down, keeping hold of your hands, and pulled you down so you straddled her lap. She sighed, her eyes looking everywhere at you except your face.

Her fingers crawled to the straps of your dress, slowly tugging them down your bare shoulders. She recited, “How beautiful you are and how pleasing, my love, with your delights.” Her voice was quiet in the silent room, burning at your ears as you tried to stay focused with the taste of her still on your lips. Her eyes sunk down your chest as she started to pull the dress down your breasts. “I said, I will climb the palm tree; I will take hold of its fruit.”

She tugged the fabric of your dress over your breasts, exposing them as they bounced over the fabric. Taking a sharp breath, she drew one hand to your tit and squeezed the soft flesh there, earning a gasp from you.

“May your breasts be like clusters of grapes on the vine, the fragrance of your breath like apples, and your mouth like the best wine.” Her eyes, which were trained on your exposed chest in front of her, flickered up to your face, catching the gloss of her cum on her lips. She raised her other hand and spread her fingers over your lips, smearing the wetness across your mouth. “May the wine go straight to my beloved, flowing gently over lips and teeth.”

You started to throb at her touches, at her words, at her inebriated eyes. Her hand that groped your breast fell down to your thighs, urging the end of your dress upwards as it slid up your skin.

“Song of Songs 7:6-9,” she whispered with finality as she danced her fingers up your inner thigh, and you watched her hand disappear under your skirt. “Is your body a temple of God, y/n?” she asked you as she parted your panties with her fingers.

You nodded desperately, so turned on by what she had done to your mouth, so dumbed down by the verses and the touches and the taste of her. She bit her lip and moaned as her fingers touched your slick cunt, grazing over your clit before two of them sunk into your hole.

Head falling back, you grabbed at the shoulders of her robe and whined as she plunged her fingers inside you, your wetness already making a dirty squelching noise as she pumped inside of you.

“I’m not so sure it is,” she husked as she wrapped an arm around your hip to steady your bucking motions. “You’ve been a dirty girl, y/n. You’ve used your body to sin against His Word. My hand of God can only do so much—you need to beg for his forgiveness.” An evil smirk lined her lips.

You could barely hear what she was saying as she fucked her fingers into you, your hips moving up and down in desperate search for more of her. She thumbed at your clit as she waited for you to answer, leaning forward to press wet kisses on your nipples that bounced with your motions.

“Please, God,” you began shakily, “Forgive me.”

“That’s not good enough,” she tutted, suddenly pushing a third finger inside you. Your mouth fell open at the stretch and the burst of sensations that exploded when she curled her fingers inside you. “Beg Him. Beg Him to forgive you for being a dirty whore.”

“Ah!” you exclaimed when she bit your nipple, jamming her fingers into you harshly. “P-Please, God,” you began breathlessly, squeezing the Reverend’s shoulders as pressure built inside you. “Please forgive me.”

“Forgive you for?” she urged, biting your other nipple and sucking on it.

You tried to remember exactly what she had said as your orgasm threatened to impend upon you. “F-For, for being a dirty whore!” The sound of your own voice saying those words pushed you over the edge, your inner walls clenching around the Reverend’s fingers. Your hips rocked hard against her hand as she watched in pure desire and delight, grinning when you finally came down from your climax.

“Very good, my child,” she soothed as you panted, her fingers still inside you. You trembled on her lap, seeing that your wetness had dripped onto her hand and down her maroon robe. “The Lord our God is a merciful one. He forgives you.” She played with the end of your dress, moving her fingers inside you and seeing just what a mess she had made of you. She looked up at your beat red face and teary eyes, her eyes alight with an idea. “Have you ever been baptized?”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #marvel #lesbian #lgbt #wanda maximoff x fem!reader

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ladystoneboobs · 18 days

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[Cat, to Brienne:]"And Arya, well . . . Ned's visitors would oft mistake her for a stableboy if they rode into the yard unannounced. [...]" -Catelyn VII, aCoK

ok, this is another thing that makes me feel like i'm taking crazy pills bc i never see it talked about with all the implications behind it. so if anyone is more versed in androgynous medievalish clothing, feel free to correct me here, but my thinking is if unannounced visitors mistook arya for a stableboy, would that not mean she was wearing boyish riding garb, trousers and all? bc if she was running around with messy hair and a dirty gown, wouldn't she more likely be seen as a female servant? if my reading is not wildly offbase that does not jibe with the idea of arya being terrorized all day by both septa mordane and her mother to be more ladylike. rather, this limited freedom to be mistaken for a servant could suggest that pragmatic catelyn was picking her battles with arya too, not forcing her to always appear prim and proper on days when they were not expecting any guests to see her. catelyn "despaired of ever making a lady of" arya, though neither she nor ned could abandon the goal, which could mean a more measured approach, not exhausting herself by going after arya for every unladylike move she made, especially when she was still a prepubescent child. the quote above starts a paragraph which ends with catelyn feeling "as though a giant hand were squeezing her chest" after saying she thought arya was dead like bran and rickon, after no word of her since ned's arrest. in that context of grief, i think all her words about arya should be read as coming with bittersweet fondness, just being honest about their problems, not sugarcoating any of it.

but let's compare catelyn's trials with arya, including her often running around looking like a stableboy, to arya's interactions with lady smallwood, somehow seen as an even better mother-figure than her own mother, whom arya found easier to comply with bc of her kinder manner. first of all, lady smallwood's efforts to make arya ladylike included two baths and two dresses in one day after arya and gendry ruined the first dress, before finally giving her boy's riding clothes to leave in. i would argue a full second bath was unneeded when they could have just washed the dirt off her face and hands, and, furthermore, that both the dresses were an impractical waste when she knew arya would be riding back out with the outlaws and could not look a highborn lady when doing so. idt pragmatic catelyn would have gone to all that trouble just to make arya look ladylike for a few hours when there were no other ladies around. as for the claim that arya found it easier to comply with her? no, that's just flat-out demonstrably false. the text says she was "forced" into a tub and "they insisted" she wear girl's clothes. what room did she have to refuse as a hostage in a stranger's castle? she certainly felt no compunction about fighting gendry in the acorn dress she'd been forced into, and only felt bad about it afterward when lady smallwood talked about her dead son.

now, let's move on to the only canon quotes we have from cat to/about arya in arya's pov.

"Sansa's work is as pretty as she is," Septa Mordane told their lady mother once. "She has such fine, delicate hands." When Lady Catelyn had asked about Arya, the septa had sniffed. "Arya has the hands of a blacksmith." -Arya I, aGoT Her father had hunted boar in the wolfswood with Robb and Jon. Once he even took Bran, but never Arya, even though she was older. Septa Mordane said boar hunting was not for ladies, and Mother only promised that when she was older she might have her own hawk. -Arya V, aCoK Her mother used to say she could be pretty if she would just wash and brush her hair and take more care with her dress, the way her sister did. -The Blind Girl(/Arya I), aDwD

in the first quote we don't know catelyn's reaction to septa mordane's rude disapproval of arya, certainly not if she agreed with it. what we do know is she was not interested in only hearing endless praise of sansa and wanted to hear if arya had made any progress. although admittedly that was a vain hope, which ignored arya's true strengths and the possibility that she could never master and enjoy needlework the way catelyn did.

the second quote better shows the difference between arya's mother and her septa. catelyn does not criticize arya for wanting to hunt boar nor dismiss her interest. instead she tries to mollify arya and accomodate her desire with the promise of a future hunting hawk. that this was a promise, not just an idle thought, suggests this would have happened in due time and could have been a bonding activity for them if the plot hadn't intervened.

the third quote is definitely a backhanded compliment and doubly unhelpful in comparison to sansa, but at least it shows catelyn did not think one of her own daughters was ugly. she thought both were pretty even tho sansa was the more admired as traditionally beautiful, and she thought arya's looks were held back by her messy hair and clothes. (useful to remember for those fans who like to keep track of how many characters called arya pretty vs. how many call her ugly.)

yes, it is a bad sign that arya genuinely wondered if her mother would want her back, dirtier than ever in her disguise as a peasant boy. their relationship definitely had faults which the adult parent must bear responsibility for. but we must remember that arya also worried if robb would pay a ransom for her, and was most ashamed about the people she'd killed, and couldn't bear the thought of ned knowing all she'd done. and we must keep in mind that even ned never openly gainsaid septa mordane on-page either, and that arya desperately wanted to renunite with her mother and felt confident gendry could stay with her if she vouched for him with her mother. that confidence would seem completely unwarranted if their mother/daughter relationship was as utterly bad as some fans make out.

#valyrianscrolls #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #catelyn stark #arya stark #a wolf with a fish in its mouth #that most recent post in the tag is actually insane but these are things ive thougt abt saying for awhile #i could also say that jon's doubts and fears wrt his mother are also unfounded and that ned bears some blame for that #by never telling him his mother loved him or even whether she was alive or dead #funny how people can recognize lady smallwood's similarity to cat as a mother figure but just saying aryas pretty w/o qualifications is #enough to make her better in every other way too #anyways #happy wolf pack wednesday!#(c)lsb

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coconutdays · 2 years

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Cry Baby

Eren Jeager x reader one shot

Synopsis: The hot guy who looks like a picture perfect bad boy keeps popping up at every party you go to and you don't know what to do when he asks for your number like the idiot you are

Warnings: Some suggestive material, mostly fluff

Word count: 2.5k!

Loosely based on this song

There's this guy you keep seeing at every party you go to and that's saying something since you don't go out too often, but then again you guys probably have the same cirlcle of friends.

He's hot though and you can never leave these parties without having made eye contact with him at least once due to his hard stares.

Sometimes he even plays the guitar at these parties and he's caught you staring at him when he gets into a certain chorus more than once.

He has a strong presence, his friends are always yelling his name, more so his last name, and he just seems confident in himself because he dresses like a slut.

Yea, a slut.

The first time you saw him, he was wearing these tight denim jeans, a white wife beater, and a black leather jacket. It wouldn't have been so hot if he didn't a wear a ring on almost every finger of his and have his hair up in a messy bun that let stray pieces of his chocolate colored hair frame his annoyingly hot face.

You couldn't forget about the necklace too.

That stupid key that dangled from his neck never failed to make you stare at his chest, which oh so temptingly rose and fell everytime he let out a laugh with his friends.

Right now though, he was wearing a these loose fitting faded green pants and a regular black tshirt that didn't seem so regular when his arms were begging to break free from the short sleeves.

It gave you a perfect view of all the tattoos littering his arms even if you had always wanted to see what was hiding on his chest considering the small blot of ink that always peeked out whenever he wore wife beaters.

No.

You were here to hang out with your friends and he looks like he breaks hearts for fun. Besides, you should enjoy the music more. Whoever had the aux cord at these parties always played the best music and your favorite song never failed to make an appearance, which just so happened to be now.

"Staring at Eren again?" Your best friend giggled.

"I like eye candy." You responded before shaking your head, "He'd break my heart though so I won't bother to look anymore."

Your friend hummed in response before her eyes widened for a bit the moment she got a glimpse behind you.

"Good luck y/n"

"What." You leaned forward to catch her words again.

Did she just wish me good luck? Why?

A shadow from behind you that made the gold in your bracelet gleam less caught your attention and made you turn around.

"Hey"

Eren stood there before you, his hands in his pockets, his posture as tall as ever as he kept your eyes locked with his.

You did not want to be played with tonight and although you found his heart breaker appearance hot as hell, you wouldn't risk your your own for it.

You looked at him like a mother looks at her child when they've interrupted her conversation and smiled, "Hi."

It had the same tone structure as a 'can I help you?'

He caught on to your slight guard, but chose to still speak to you.

"I'm Eren."

"I've heard."

He held back a small laugh. He didn't want you to think he was being a jerk.

"And I've heard yours is y/n."

"Is that the only thing you've heard?"

"I asked someone a couple parties ago," He admitted, a toothy smile splitting his mouth apart dashingly, especially due to his sharp canines, "but only managed to get your name."

"Glad they gave you the right answer." You politely nodded, not wanting to seem a total bitch.

Eren huffed at your facade a little, shaking his head because of how cute he thought it was when you were literally oogling at him moments ago.

"Listen y/n."

"I'm listening Eren."

There you went with that mother-like tone again. It crossed his mind how much he wanted to fuck that attitude out of you, but he'd save that for another time.

He had to win you over first if he'd ever to get to do that.

He chuckled, "I think you're pretty and I'm trying to get your number so I can take you out on a date."

"If that's fine with you." He added politely, confidence never wavering which was annoying.

His confidence annoyed you because it wasn't cocky. His confidence was simply him being comfortable with himself, and damn him because it made him harder to resist.

You really wanted to give him your number...

At this point it was obvious to the both of you that you were looking for an excuse to say no. You didn't even try to hide it anymore with that childish squint of your eyes at him and it made him laugh.

You let out a sigh of defeat and to Eren that could only mean one thing-

"You hear this song?" You pointed at the ceiling

Eren cocked his head to the side in confusion, "Yes?"

"If you learn this entire song on the guitar I'll give you my number."

Your cheeks were kinda puffed in self assurance, you thought you had given him an almost impossible challenge, which may seem like it to you but he wouldn't let you know that. It was cute.

"You want me to learn Cry Baby by The Neighbourhood, y/n."

You nodded like a smartass at his clarification and his knees almost buckled at how so adorable you were that he could just eat you up.

In approval, Eren raised up his hands as he nodded too.

"Fine. Just be ready to give me your number at the next party."

You gave him that kidish doubtful look of yours again before agreeing, "Okay, Eren."

As he shook his head with a smirk on his face, Eren turned around and went walking back to his friends just as you turned to look back at your best friend.

She was giving you a look of 'really?'

It was a tell tale sign she was about to bully you.

"y/n he's going to do it."

She leaned over to smack your arm, "You should have just given him your number dumbass."

You pouted as you soothed your arm, "Hey! I just wanna see some effort! Besides I think he'll forget and that's gonna say enough."

She rolled her eyes at you, "He literally stares at you every single time we see him. He won't forget."

Like a child, you crossed your arms over each other and let out a huff, "We'll see then."

You didn't see Eren again that night and like a fool you ignored the fact that it bummed you out. It wasn't necessary to stare at his neck whenever he threw his head back to laugh or watch the way his arms strained whenever he tried to put his hair up.

At least that's what you told yourself.

The new week came and passed by until the streets lit up again in the vodka, music, and lust of the weekend and you hadn't really thought about Eren. You remembered his promise to you when you were just about finished with your makeup and smacked your lips together while observing the application of your lipgloss.

He probably forgot about his promise the day after.

Nonetheless, you put your pretty heels on and walked right into that party with your best friend and this time you weren't going to lie to yourself when you looked around the room for that pretty brunette.

You couldn't find him.

Whatever, less heart break for you.

You dragged your best friend to the rest of your friends that would also attend the party. There was some commotion in the groupchat about somebody's girlfriend finding out their ex was talking to their mom's friend and the information was too juicy to let go of.

"And then my mom sent me a screenshot of this guy in her friend's comments talking about some-"

The conversation went in through one ear and out the other when that song started playing a little too finely through the party stereos.

Yeah, that song.

Your ears perked up and the electric guitar sounded too crisp to just be coming from the aux cord of a spotify playlist.

You looked around the room, following a particularly long wire that was connected to the stereo. You looked past plenty of heels, feet, and random shoes until you saw a pretty black guitar at the hands of him.

Eren.

He was completely invested in the guitar on his lap, fingers picking and choosing what strings to play and you were glad because you wouldn't be able to handle eye contact with him right now if he looked up.

"Told you." Your best friend giggled into your ear as she flicked your forehead gently.

Whenever Eren played the guitar, it was normal for a little bit of people to gather to look. It wasn't new for a guy to play the guitar at parties, especially him, but it was still interesting to see.

Your best friend lifted you up by grabbing your hand

"Gotta live up to your promise." She sang to you teasingly as she took you near him.

You whined, "Can we at least sit, I don't wanna stand there like a weirdo."

She shook her head, "Fine, but we'll sit where he can see you."

You nodded in dramatic defeat before she added, "And you better be ready to give him your number."

"Yes ma'am."

In all honesty, you were too shocked that he actually learned the song to let the giddy feelings register in your stomach on time, so you resorted to being whiny about it.

Except,

it registered when you sat down and he was already looking at you.

The rest of the four minutes that passed by were painful, they were comprised of the knowing looks Eren sent your way, you shuffling in your seat, and the actual part of you that was trying to enjoy the way he was playing the guitar for you.

They were painful but they passed by pretty fast, a little too fast in your scared and flustered opinion.

You watched Eren hand his electric guitar over to an eager friend who was probably gonna take a chance to play a song on it and saw this quick opportunity to voice your sheepishness to your friend.

"I think-"

Your best friend was no where in sight. She wasn't even sitting next to you anymore.

When did she leave you here?

You were going to kick her-

"My number?"

A fearful gulp made its way down your throat as you looked up at the handsome figure before you.

Eren cheekily had his phone out in your direction, his screen already lit in the light of his keypad.

You took the phone from him rather roughly in your opinion and bit back your smile as you typed those ten numbers on his phone and added your name to its contact.

Eren did not in fact think you took the phone from him roughly and would have compared the sight to a baby taking back its candy, but he feared telling you would ruffle your feathers. And he says ruffle your feathers cause you remind him of a sparrow, tiny but always mad for no reason.

And he loved it.

He sat down next to you when you finished typing your name and held out his phone for him to take back, which he did.

"Someone's surprised I learned a song for her." He sang, just as teasingly as your best friend did to you just moments ago.

Chills ran up your spine at the blatant mention of him doing something for you.

"So what if I am." You huffed a little, unaware of the way you turned your body to face him.

But Eren was quite aware, so he did it too.

"I'll learn more if you want me to." He offered, his hand painfully close to yours.

You turned your face away from him bashfully to hide the effect he had on you which only made it worse because he took it as an opportunity to close the distance between your faces a little more.

"How does that sound hm pretty girl?"

His breath was hot on your skin, even reaching your neck.

Mustering the courage, you turned back to look at him, even though any movement could cause you to kiss him due to the close to nonexistent distance between the two of you.

"It sounds nice." You peeped quietly

Eren's eyes were glazed as he observed you, he wouldn't even be surprised if somebody said he had stars in his eyes.

"Not so bratty now huh." He laughed warmly in tenderness at your state before him now.

Unable to stand his stare on you again, you looked down at both of your hands, fingertips touching.

You danced your fingers around over his hand, feeling the contrast of his cool rings against the warmth of his fingers before you set your hand on top of his.

"I'm giving you a million more songs to learn by the way." You murmured.

Eren shifted so he could have his face in front of yours again and there again came the intensity of his lips oh so close to yours and the unavoidable glimpses towards each other's mouths the both of you would give.

"I'll learn one for every date you let me take you on." He breathed in assurance

Your brain was foggy at how alluring he was

"I like the way you play the guitar." You admitted

And Eren's pants tightened at the way your eyes fluttered up at him when you said that.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm." You nodded, unaware yet again of the way you were pushing yourself onto him leaving Eren to yet again restrain himself from pouncing on you and scaring you away.

"Stop teasing me." He murmured, eyes on your lips.

"I'm not teasing you." You whined a little, doing that innocent thing with your eyes again and Eren pleaded with himself for more restraint.

"Fuck."He let out

You gave into the tension and started by giving his lips a soft peck to test the waters. That peck let Eren put his other hand on the back of your neck and it let you go back in again for another peck, except he kept you in place to actually kiss you.

His warmth completely melted into you as he needily moved his mouth across yours and left you growing more and more needy for him.

If it wasn't for everyone near the both of you, he would have continued, but your sake and his, he agonizingly let go of you.

"I think your friend is waiting for you." He swallowed on nothing, a bright red painting his cheeks.

And as you let your best friend take you away with a pout on your face, he checked his phone to make sure you left your number in there.

And you did.

y/n

#eren yeager #eren jaeger #eren fluff #aot #eren x fem!reader #eren jeager x reader #eren x reader #shingeki no kyoujin eren #snk #eren jeager fluff #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager fluff #eren jeager x you

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