#h: house stark | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stvharrngton · 2 years

Text

three or four times

a/n: my weaknesses are titles and endings so I apologise if they are horrible ghsjdjdj. the more I read this the more I dislike it but I just couldn’t leave it unfinished

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!fem reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: enemies to lovers sorta, a little angsty, swearing, steve pining asf

prompt: “last time i checked, you guys were at each others' throats. how come you're sending heart eyes every time you see her now?"

requests are open!

The first time Steve thought you were pretty was in high school. You a year younger, leaning against your locker books held close to your chest, talking to another girl from your year - someone from Steve’s history class he was sure.

The way the pink skirt you wore hugged your waist, teased at your thighs, the clean frilly white socks a stark contrast to your dirty Converse. You giggled with your friend as you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. Steve was gone right there and then, your laugh intoxicating - the way your lips reached your cheeks sending a pang right to his heart.

I’m in love, Steve thought.

He sauntered past you and your friend - Rachel, maybe? Nah. A smirk plastered on his face, his hand raised so he could wiggle his fingers at you in greeting, his left eye closing in a wink. Tommy H and his friends hollering in a trail after him, clasping him on the shoulder.

I hate Steve Harrington, you thought. And his dickbag friends.

The second time Steve thought you were pretty was during the fall of 1984. Your younger brother having claimed Steve as his sidekick for whatever problem he was trying to solve. You rolled your eyes at the notion of Dustin being involved with Steve, claiming he was an asshole.

But as you ended up with your brother, Max and Lucas and unfortunately, Steve, at the junkyard trapped in the broken down bus your irritation subsided for fear. You shielded the kids behind you whilst you watched Steve cling onto his studded bat - ready to swing.

Once the Demodogs had scampered off and the coast was clear, he turned to you and the kids. All charming smile and smugness complete with that damn wink again. You rolled your eyes at the gesture.

“Knock it off, Harrington,” you scoffed, “let’s go.”

Arms crossing over your chest hugging yourself as you all began the long walk home, attempting to provide a slither of comfort to your cold body. Eyes trained on Lucas and Max bickering in front of you, Steve and Dustin lingering behind you.

Steve couldn’t stop staring. Granted, it was dark and he was staring at the back of your head but his eyes were glued to your figure. When you turned your head to check on Dustin he caught a glimpse of your face.

Cheeks pink and the tip of your nose tinted red, eyes glassy and your hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, two curly strands framing either side of your face. Steve’s brow furrowing at the thought of you being cold; wanting to wrap you up in the biggest blanket he owned. You were cute, Steve thought. So very cute.

When you finally made it back to your house, you sped up to your front door ready to be greeted by the warmth of the inside, Dustin held Steve back - his arm falling back against his stomach to stop him.

A glance at you before he turned to the older boy next to him, “What’s going on with you?” Dustin whispered.

“What?” his eyes fell over to you, watching you dig in your pockets for your key, “What are you talkin’ about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me! I’ve seen you ogling her all day!”

Steve scoffed, “Your sister? Henderson I-“

“You’ve been making googly eyes at her all day, Steve! Whatever this is,” Dustin mocked, fingers drawing imaginary lines between you and Steve, “stop it. She’s off limits.”

Finally fishing the key from your jacket pocket, you turned it in the lock, your brows joining together at the sight of Steve and Dustin having some sort of agitated conversation, “Dustin! Move your ass, come on.” you whisper-shouted into the night.

“Coming!” Dustin called out to you, rushing his way over to your house, not before he turned back to Steve, “Off. Limits.” he stated, gesturing back to you.

Steve could only hold his hands up in defeat, waving you both inside your house before beginning the walk down the street to his own. It was then that Steve Harrington forced himself to hate you for the sake of your meddling little brother.

The third time Steve thought you were pretty was the beginning of summer ‘85. The thick Indiana air hot and sticky, all busy days at the local pool and cherry slushies. Steve managed to get a job at the new Starcourt mall - Scoops Ahoy ice cream parlour complete with the uniform of a sailor.

Unfortunately for Steve that job came with a co-worker, that co-worker being your best friend, Robin. Making your appearances at Scoops reoccurring and making Steve’s situation ten times harder than it already was.

As if on cue, you sauntered into the ice cream shop making a beeline for the counter and Steve couldn’t help but stare, cloth wiping the counter in circular motion on automatic. You looked pretty, so pretty, no, beautiful actually. High-waisted denim shorts pulled in at your waist with a cute red belt, tight black t-shirt donning the logo of the clothing store you worked at hugging your chest, finished with your red-rimmed sunglasses in the shape of hearts perched on top of your head, freckles sprayed across your face.

Your soft pudgy thighs on show for everyone to see and it drove him crazy, you did it on purpose, he swore. You dinged the bell on the counter obnoxiously, snapping the boy back to reality.

Steve scrambled to look natural, like he wasn’t so obviously staring at you.

“Nice get up, Harrington.” you teased, an outstretched finger pointing to his outfit.

He rolled his eyes at you, “Can I suggest you get some new jokes?” scooper in hand, ready, “The usual, Henderson?”

“And can I suggest you become less of an asshole?” you said, “but yes, please.”

The boy scoffed at you, “Sure, anything for you.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes now, slapping your dollar bills down on the counter and snatching the small cup of mint choc chip from Steve.

“You’re welcome!” he shouted after you as you went to sit at your usual booth to wait for Robin. You didn’t mean to be such a brat but you couldn’t help it; Steve just irritated you. It’s not like you didn’t want to get along with him, but he was just unnecessarily mean lately so you gave it back as good as you got.

Storming through to the back Steve slumped into one of the chairs in the break room, hards carding through his hair in pure frustration. He sighed, calling out to his co-worker, “Robin! That piece of work you call a best friend is out there waiting for you!”

“Have you tried, I don't know, actually talking to her instead of bickering all the time?” Robin pondered, “I think you would actually get along great.” A scowl her only response.

Robin left Steve in the break room wondering if there was any chance that you felt the same and why the hell he was letting your little brother control his love life.

Present day and Steve was head over heels, he was convinced.

You could only grimace when Dustin invited you over to Steve’s place - an afternoon by the pool in his backyard where he would be shirtless? Awful, you thought. But your brother insisted he needed a ride and that Robin would be there and so you reluctantly agreed.

Steve could only gawp when you arrived, Dustin in tow. Tiny shorts that barely covered your ass, red strap of your bikini top peaking beneath your shirt as it hung off your shoulder.

Sweet brown eyes trained on you all day from behind his signature black RayBans, Steve was sure if anyone could see his pupils they would be blown, full of affection for someone he could never have. A soft smile plastered all over his face as he watched you giggle with your brother and his friends, as you lathered yourself in suncream, kicking himself when he didn’t offer to help when you couldn’t quite reach your back.

Steve sat at the edge of the pool, long legs dangling in the cool of the water. Palms pressed into the flat of the grass, head back letting the sun kiss all of his moles and freckles in the way he wished you would. A nudge to his knee brought his gaze back down to the culprit.

“Last time I checked, you guys were at each others’ throats. How come you’re sending heart eyes every time you see her now?” Robin questioned, eyes looking up at Steve before glancing back at you on the sun lounger.

Fuck. He tried not to be obvious, thought the sunglasses would shield his eyes from everyone else. That they would hide the way his gaze lingered a little too long on the cherry red bikini you wore, how the barely there ties were high on your hips, how you looked so damn pretty.

“I literally have no idea what you’re talkin’ about, Robin.”

Robin simply chuckled at the boy, “Sure, Stevie. Do you like her?”

A sigh, a shrug. Steve really couldn’t be bothered to have this conversation with his co-worker turned best friend right now. Especially when you were here looking like that by his pool.

As the afternoon turned into evening, the energy of the group simmered down a little. The kids moving inside to devour and pick at the pizza and snacks provided. Steve watched you from his kitchen - beer in hand as your feet curled into the grass beneath. A shit mumbled from his lips, he made his way outside to you, sitting on the lounger next to yours.

“Hey,” he whispered, “how come you’re outside by yourself?”

Never looking at him, you shrugged, “I like the quiet.”

Steve watched through his lashes as you sipped your beer, lips turned down, no sparkle in your eyes. You looked sad. All he could muster was a nod in reply.

Your tongue clicked against your teeth, you turned to Steve now, “Why do you hate me, Steve?” you paused, eyes glassy as they bore into his dark brown ones.

His brows furrowed together at your question, “Hate you? I don’t hate you, what makes you say that?” he feigned ignorance.

You shrugged, the label on your beer bottle becoming more interesting. “Dunno, I just- you’re so mean sometimes.”

Steve’s heart shattered into pieces, he was sure, like you reached right into his chest and stomped all over it. If only you knew how he really felt.

“I don't-” he stammered, looking for some sort of reason to give you, like you had just caught him in headlights, “I can’t, you just have to believe me, sweetheart. I don’t want to be mean.”

The endearing term all but stopped you in your tracks. You sniffled, bleary eyes narrowing questioning what he was saying, “What do you mean?”

Shit. Shit, shit, fuck. Well, it was now or never, Steve thought.

“It was Dustin.” Steve hushed, like he almost didn’t want to nark on your little brother. Like he didn’t want to admit he let a 14 year old have a say in his love life.

“Dustin?!” you screeched, “What do you mean, Dustin?” Arms flailing into your lap.

“I- he said you were off limits, that I couldn’t, that we couldn't..” he trailed off, “so I thought it might be easier this way, I wouldn’t fall hopelessly in love but I was so wrong.”

“Steve,” you whined, “why on Earth would you listen to that little shithead?”

The boy chuckled, fingers tugging at his brown locks, shrugging, “He was just trying to protect you, I kinda admired it.” he paused, contemplating what to say next, “And I don’t exactly have the best track record,” his gaze flicked down to the ground now, “I know you thought I was an asshole in high school.”

You rolled your eyes now, “That was high school, Steve. It’s not like you’re the King of Hawkins High anymore, right?” you said, hopeful.

A breathy laugh left his lips as he nodded, his eye trained on you as he watched you stand and sit yourself next to him on the lounger. Knees knocking and shoulders brushing.

“Did you mean it?” you asked.

“Hm?” he looked up at you with confusion.

“What you said,” a smile toying on your lips, eyelashes fluttering up at the boy, “that you were hopelessly in love with me?”

A blush crept across his cheeks, heat prickling the back of his neck but he grinned at you nonetheless, “Yeah, yeah I did.”

Steve laced his fingers with your own then, the foreign feeling welcome and comforting. A touch that said I'm here and I'll take whatever you're willing to give me. Steve’s gaze fell to your lips, plump and inviting, before climbing back to your eyes.

You shifted next to him, your free hand came to sit on top of his thigh as you inched ever closer. Then Steve’s lips were on yours. It was soft and slow, the dim taste of warm beer and his strawberry chapstick crowding your senses. You sighed into the kiss, Steve licking into you all pretty, like he had been wanting to do this for a long, long time.

His hand came to cup your cheek, thumb soothing the pink of your sunburn as you broke the kiss. Chest heaving and Steve's forehead resting against your own. Eyes dreamy and thick with honey, nothing but pure adoration washing over his features.

You both burst into a fit of giggles, eyes lighting up like the stars in the night sky. Giddy and full of excitement.

“Good to know.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #I had the ending pictured and planned so clear so we had to get there somehow fellas #don't know what I think of this but yeah he we go I guess #k.fic #the henderson reader trope really has me in a chokehold

3K notes · View notes

sirenpearldust · 5 days

Text

Pearl

Part 1 part 2

Pair: Eris x Reader

Word count: 2.599

Warnings: mentions of cheating, fertility issues, insecure thoughts

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

As months slipped by without conception, your mind wandered to the idea of a baby. You found yourself daydreaming about your future baby, wondering if they would inherit your traits or resemble Eris.

Maybe your future child would be a perfect blend of both of you, or a mirror image of Eris with his luscious locks, mischievous amber eyes accented by long, dark lashes, and his straight nose.

You hoped your child would resemble your wonderful husband, with his charming laugh, his thoughtful frown, and all the beauty he possessed.

As you stood before the mirror, you gazed at your belly, imagining it swollen with pregnancy.

Your mind wandered to your child laughing, giggling, and cooing with joy, happiness radiating from their bright eyes.

You felt stressed as numerous people, especially Beron, exerted pressure on you. However, Eris remained your source of comfort, always sweet and wiping your tears, soothing you whenever the healer delivered the disappointing news of another unsuccessful conception.

Eris concealed his relief upon learning of the unsuccessful attempt, careful not to show you his true emotions. Despite this, his desire to fulfill your every wish remained strong, understanding that the timing had to be right for both you and your future heir's safety.

He saw you trying everything—from taking long walks with his mother to eating healthier, experimenting with various fertility teas, and praying.

Despite trying everything, nothing seemed to help. He witnessed your tears and mourning, understanding your sense of shame for not fulfilling what you saw as your only duty.

Eris, feeling responsible for your anguish, was ashamed, as he was at fault making you feel this way.

To help you relax and ease the strain on your body, Beron ordered that you be sent to your parents' house. The Lady of Autumn spoke with Beron, suggesting that a vacation could alleviate your stress and potentially increase your chances of conceiving.

• •

Being at your parents' house proved to be truly relaxing. The familiar surroundings provided comfort, surrounded by your loved ones. You spent time chatting with your sisters and reconnecting with friends you hadn't seen in a while.

Enjoying tea and playing cards together, the conversations and laughter helped you forget all of your worries.

In your childhood home, you were surrounded by laughter and joy, you felt whole and content.

It was a stark contrast to the tension and loneliness you experienced in the forest house, where rivalry, scheming, and jealousy were ever-present.

There, in the forest house, you always felt on edge, but here, in the comforting embrace of your childhood home, the atmosphere was vibrant and carefree.

The air was filled with the joyful laughter of children, and the warmth of your friends' companion enveloped you, easing away any lingering worries you had.

You couldn't help but wish for your child to grow up in such an environment. Perhaps not falling pregnant right now wasn't the worst outcome after all, you sadly mused.

Today, the weather was warm, carrying the scent of the black tea your mother brewed and the cherry cake your sister baked earlier.

Laughter echoed through the garden where you sat, accompanied by the sweet singing of the birds.

The sun shone just right, casting a gentle glow, and overall, the atmosphere was calm and serene.

The atmosphere was abruptly disturbed by your friend's gasp as she remembered something important.

"Oh my, I almost forgot to tell you what happened to Cassandra, you all remember her, right?" she exclaimed, her shock evident as she jumped in her seat.

"Her husband had been cheating on her, and despite her attempts to have a second child with him, he remained loyal to his mistress.

To prevent any illegitimate children with her, he resorted to using a tonic, it hindered any chance of pregnancy. Apparently it is also illegal to use.

Cassandra's father found out, killed the mistress and punished her husband by law."

"I don't know what happened exactly, but Charles now has a scar across his face," another friend chimed in.

"And lately, he's been sticking close to Cassandra when they are at gatherings. Apparently the punishment he faced was only halted because she intervened and saved him from her father. Since then, he's been keeping in line."

"That was well deserved," your mother chimed in, sipping on her tea with a hint of satisfaction in her voice.

As you listened, doubts began to creep into your mind.

Maybe someone had tampered with your tea. However, your handmaids assured you that they hadn't seen anyone interfere with your food or beverages.

Every step of the preparation process, from the ingredients to the serving, had been strictly monitored.

Despite the numerous intimate sessions with Eris each day, it seemed impossible that there could be an issue with fertility.

However, hearing the conversation about Cassandra's situation sparked a troubling thought: what if the problem lay with Eris? Could he be infertile?

The notion of him using a tonic seemed absurd, and the thought of him resorting to such measures was too cruel to contemplate.

He had wiped away your tears and shielded you from harm, from the rumours, the nasty glances directed at you.

You couldn’t entertain such a devastating possibility—betrayal from him would be unimaginable.

He talked to you about the names he had chosen and the colors he envisioned for the baby's room. Every time you talked about your future child he was happy, excited to help choosing the clothes and how he would play with him or her. He didn’t care if it was a girl or a boy.

You both had laid in bed one night, when he confessed his hope that the child would resemble you. He had held you close, your fingers were intertwined, his head on your chest, he wished that your child would inherit your eyes and your smile.

He wouldn’t cheat on you, no he wouldn’t. Not Eris, never him, right?

You obviously would never openly accuse Eris of such a horrendous act or him using the tonic.

Accusing the heir could result in dire consequences, you would be risking your life and insulting the Vanserra family to which you still didn't fully belong to.

You understood that full acceptance into the family would only come with the birth of his heir.

For now, you felt more like a placeholder, knowing that if nothing worked, you could easily be replaced by a new wife.

• •

The evening neared its end and your friends departed, your family prepared for bed.

Quietly, you made your way to your father's office, seeking help to calm your nerves before you also joined dreamland.

In the cold hallway leading to his office, you closed the window, the chill dissipating.

Taking a moment to glance at your reflection, you noticed your hair cascading loosely around your shoulders, and your nightgown, a deep red with golden accents, gave you a regal air.

Compared to a week ago, you looked healthier, your cheeks now filled out.

Gazing past your reflection, you turned your attention to the sky, silently praying and hoping that your father held the answers you needed.

Approaching the grand oak door adorned with golden leaves, you knocked twice.

"Come in," your father's voice called from within.

Upon entering, you found him engrossed in his papers, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. The office carried the aroma of black coffee and biscuits.

Closing the door behind you, you stood before him, clearing your throat to gain his attention.

"Father, have you heard about what happened to Cassandra?" you inquired.

He rubbed his face in frustration before replying angrily, " Good evening to you too. Yes, but I prefer not to indulge in gossip or spread it myself. Why do you ask?"

"It's not about the gossip itself, but about the tonic," you clarified.

His eyes widened in surprise as you quickly added, "Don't worry, I'm not asking to brew it myself. I'm just curious why it's outlawed and what it consists of."

Reassured, he sighed and admitted, "There is a book in the library somewhere. I forgot the title of it." With a smile, you bid him goodnight and wished him a restful sleep. "Goodnight. Sleep well," he replied before you left.

As you walked towards the library, a peculiar sensation stirred in your belly, akin to butterflies fluttering about. Nervousness and a certain cold crept over you, you had a sudden urge to relieve yourself.

As you walked into the library, you skimmed through the books, spending about two hours in the healing section.

Along the search for the specific book, you stumbled upon some intriguing ones that you planned to read later.

Eventually, you found a small black book titled "Outlawed." Within its pages, you discovered a chapter detailing the forbidden tonic.

It described how the tonic could hinder any pregnancy without causing infertility, with a minty scent and a taste like honey.

You stopped breathing, the realization hitting you like a tidal wave.

Eris used to drink a similar concoction in his office every morning—minty and tasting just like honey, just as described in the book.

You remembered how he once swiftly took the drink out of your hand after you had a sip, warning that it wouldn't be safe for a woman.

At the time, you hadn't thought much of it. But now, everything pointed to your husband being the one who used the forbidden tonic. Tears streamed down your face as you realized his betrayal.

You sobbed, as your mind raced through the events of the past few months.

You remembered how Eris had taken care of you, reassuring you that you weren't at fault for the failed conceptions. You went through every moment you had with him, his reaction, how he didn't mourn.

Now, you saw the deception clearly, realizing what a fool you had been to fall for his lies.

He had truly lived up to his name—the cruel prince of autumn.

You never anticipated that you would become a pawn in his schemes.

Questions swirled in your mind. Did he, like Charles, have another woman by his side?

Was he in love with someone else?

Jealousy gnawed at you. Why couldn't he confide in you? After all, you were friends before you were married.

Feelings of stupidity washed over you. Why did you even care now? He had lied to you, and he was probably involved with another woman. There wouldn't be any other reason to use the cursed tonic, right.

Why? Why? Why?

Why would he do it?

• •

You cried the whole night, your eyes swollen and bloodshot red by morning.

Your back ached from falling asleep in the library, and you felt chilled to the bone. Your heart raced with anxiety as you glamoured yourself to avoid questions from your family.

As you dressed and looked into the mirror, doubt crept in.

Were you truly beautiful and put together, or were you actually ugly? Worries plagued your mind—perhaps you were too clingy, or maybe you simply weren't his type.

Did he even find you attractive at all?

You forced a smile as you gazed at your reflection, but your eyes appeared lifeless, devoid of their usual sparkle. No amount of glamouring could mask the emptiness within. Tears welled up, but you quickly wiped them away.

With a frustrated huff, you adjusted your clothing, trying to compose yourself. Taking a deep breath, you headed downstairs.

The tearful goodbyes were exchanged as you hugged everyone farewell.

Standing outside the manor, you waved goodbye to your family before winnowing away.

• •

You arrived in your room after being attended to by the maids, your personal attendants taking charge of your bag.

Finding yourself alone, Eris was nowhere to be found, but he had left flowers on the vanity along with a letter.

Opening it, you read his words:

Hello, Beautiful.

I hope you enjoyed your time with your family. I have missed you dearly I hope you have missed me too.

It was quite lonely without you. I’m blessed to have you. Without you I am not complete nor at peace.

I promise to give you the life you've always wanted and to provide for you. I'll stand by you through thick and thin 'till death do us part. So don’t ever worry about anything else.

Sadly we will need to join dinner today as my Father has invited us.

Please tell me everything you experienced, what you’ve baked, eaten, played and read.

I also have planned a surprise for you (;

Yours truly, Eris.

You crumpled the letter in your hand, before burning it with a flicker of magic. It would have been sweet if you hadn’t known him to be a liar.

Erecting a barrier around the room to ensure privacy, you screamed and cried out your frustration until your throat grew hoarse and your eyes were dry. Once you stopped, you undressed yourself, feeling the need to wash away the disgust you felt from letting him touch you. A soothing bath would probably help.

• •

Out of the bath, you called for Erica and Grace. Seated at the vanity, Erica dried your hair while Grace selected jewelry for you, presenting it. Today, you decided on wearing a mauve dress, as you were in no mood for vibrant colors like red or orange. Frankly, orange made you look terrible, and you weren't in the mood to deal with that today.

They both appeared nervous, avoiding your gaze as you smiled at them. Sensing their unease, you asked, "What's wrong, girls?"

"Nothing, my lady," Erica replied, but before Grace could answer, you noticed her hesitation.

"We don't want to upset you before dinner," Grace added, her voice faltering.

Your smile faltered as well, a nervous feeling creeping over you.

Your heart began to beat faster as you sensed that something was amiss.

"I would rather know than be kept in the dark," you insisted, turning towards them.

They exchanged a hesitant glance before Erica spoke up quietly, "We have seen the prince meeting with a woman on the days your ladyship was away."

Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced a tight smile and urged them to continue. "Go on," you said, encouraging them.

"The woman doesn’t work here, and we tried to find out more about her, but we’ve found nothing," Erica explained.

"Don’t worry, she's not pretty. You are prettier than her," Grace added quickly.

You couldn't help but chuckle at her remark.

"She's charming enough to keep my husband occupied," you said wryly, a hint of bitterness in your tone.

"Tell me everything you know," you demanded, your voice steady despite the rage burning within you.

"She's a blonde and quite tall, with red eyes," Erica began, and Grace nodded in agreement.

"They also seem to be close. Every time we saw them, they were closely huddled together," Erica continued.

"They would whisper, but we didn't see them being intimate or kiss. They mostly met in the forest or inside the stables," Grace added, her voice tinged with concern.

Meeting a woman in secret usually hinted at an affair behind one's wife's back.

"Alright, please keep an eye on them, but don't put yourselves in danger. If Eris finds out, tell him that I, as his wife, had ordered you two to keep an eye on him. If he asks why, tell him he should confront me, as it is our business," you instructed firmly. Both Erica and Grace nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation.

You stood up, inhaling deeply to steady yourself, and forced a smile at them.

At least now you knew the truth: he had used the tonic, used you for pleasure, lied, cheated, and deceived you. The realization made you feel sick to your stomach. You wanted to take a bath again and scrub your skin.

You knew you had to get out of this situation, whether dead or alive, though preferably alive. Perhaps you could even stage your own death to escape his grasp once and for all.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Main Taglist: @bubybubsters

240 notes · View notes

toxophilitis · 1 month

Text

The Widow's Horny Family cont

CHAPTER SIX

Peggy kept seeing, in her mind, Grace.

What she had seen when the robe parted the day before was so unlike the woman, she felt. Although Grace dressed well, her clothing was not designed to draw attention to her body.

What Peggy had seen was a body that should be showed off.

The woman certainly had lovely tits, a bit larger than most, but not grossly so. Her waist was still small and her hips rounded. Seeing her in the back yard, wearing that skimpiest of all bikinis, then seeing the robe fall apart, Peggy suspected there was more than met the eye with Grace.

She recalled the color of Grace’s nipples. The color was stark and vivid, and surely rouge or something had been applied to them. Peggy had seen enough naked tits in her life to know when a woman used makeup on them. And she knew that a woman lacking an erotic mind would never do such a thing.

That meant only one thing—Grace was erotic, yet concealed it. That didn’t make sense, not to Peggy. Peggy had not heard of people that went out of their way to hide the erotic nature they felt. At least she had never met anyone that way, not in the circle she and her late husband had associated with.

Perhaps, she thought, Grace had no choice but to conceal her desires... perhaps her husband, Paul, insisted on it. Perhaps he was the one that held a tight rein on his wife, being a man with a low sexual desire.

If that was true, then Grace must be in misery, she thought.

Peggy was finishing up the washing, standing next to the washing machine. Suddenly she stood up straight, staring at the wall. Was that it? she thought. Had Grace, in her way, made a pass at her? She certainly look her time pulling her robe close over her body, and then Peggy realized those dark eyes had been glowing at that moment.

She left the garage and went to the bedroom, thinking it over. There was no other answer. And the way Grace had gazed at her tits in the tight, sleeveless sweater. Of course, Grace was starved for sex, sex with a woman at that, Peggy thought. Was it possible Grace preferred women to men, a cunt to a cock? There were women who did, Peggy knew, even though married.

Well, Grace had made the overture, she thought as she climbed into the tub. With scented bubbles swirling about her body, Peggy grinned to herself. If she wants some of my hairy cunt, I’m going to give it to her.

After her bath, she dressed in a becoming white skirt and pastel pink blouse. Underneath she was naked. No sense in putting obstacles in the way. She giggled like a school girl anticipating a quick feel at the drive-in movie.

Without calling first, Peggy walked across the lawn of the two houses, knocking at the door.

“What a pleasant surprise,” Grace said when she saw Peggy standing there. “I was thinking about calling you, Peggy.”

Seated again on the couch, with unwanted coffee on the table before her, Peggy lifted her left knee to the cushions, but keeping her skirt down. Grace sat at the other end as they chatted. They spoke of Susy and Donny, of their growing attachment to one another, each agreeing not to interfere, each praising the other’s child.

After about half an hour, with Peggy watching closely for any sign of desire on Grace’s lovely face, she began to feel her judgement had been wrong. Then Grace picked up her coffee and spilled it. With a womanish squeal, she quickly leaned the cup over the couch as if to keep it from falling into her lap. But the motion parted Grace’s thighs, parted them wide. Peggy shot a quick glance between them, and, sure enough, all she saw was dark curly cunt hair—no panties at all.

She was not surprised when Grace left her thighs parted after sitting the cup on the table. Grace was pretending she was not exposed to Peggy. But Peggy made a point of letting Grace know where she was looking. Still talking away, avoiding sex talk, Grace suddenly leaned against the arm, of the couch, drawing one knee up. Peggy allowed a small smile to cross her face as she saw the satiny thigh of the woman, the pretended lack of knowledge about her pussy being revealed. Peggy knew that Grace was feeling her out, waiting to see what effect this would have on Peggy.

There was no garter belt, or nylons today, but Peggy felt that was because of her unexpected visit. Deliberately looking at Grace’s long thighs and dark pussy hair, she lifted her own leg. There was an immediate response from Grace.

The dark eyes of the woman seemed to flare with a bright gleam of hunger, and what she had been saying was caught in her throat. Peggy saw Grace’s tits rising and falling swiftly as Grace gazed with smoldering eyes at the flesh under her white-skirt.

Grace stopped speaking in mid-sentence and just stared under Peggy’s skirt.

“Lick me,” Peggy said, her voice very low and husky.

Grace made no reply.

She repeated it again. “Lick me, Grace.”

Grace lifted her eyes to Peggy’s, her tongue moving over her bottom lip. “I beg your pardon?” Grace said in a breathless voice.

“I want you to lick me,” Peggy said once more, pulling her skirt high and spreading her legs wide. “I want your tongue on me, Grace.”

Grace lowered her hot gaze again, staring with smoldering heat at the thick curls of Peggy’s cunt, seeing her pink wet pussy lips and the tip of her clit.

Both waited, bath breathing heavily, both exposed to the other.

Then, with a sob of desire, Grace scooted swiftly toward Peggy, her arms going around her tightly. Peggy felt the woman’s moist ups crush upon hers, and when Grace snaked her wet tongue past her lips, Peggy began to suck eagerly as she brought her hands up to close her fingers about Grace’s spongy tits. She heard the woman moan against her mouth, then Grace had her hands on Peggy’s tits. They broke apart and, with squeals of delight, began to undress each other with fumbling, eager fingers. When Peggy’s tits were exposed, Grace looked at them, then gurgled happily as she lowered her face and began sucking vigorously upon a rigid nipple. Peggy held the woman’s head tight against her tits, feeling that hungry tongue fluttering and darting, sending moist heat throughout her trembling body.

As Grace sucked on Peggy’s tit, her hand moved down and caressed a satiny thigh, working its way between the sensitive, smooth inner surfaces. Peggy parted her legs and then Grace had her hand cupping her pulsating cunt.

Grace whimpered hungrily as her lips pulled at Peggy’s firm nipple, her palm rubbing back and forth on Peggy’s swollen cunt lips. Peggy writhed on her ass, pressing her steaming cunt into Grace’s palm, urging the woman.

“What about the kids?” Peggy whispered.

“Fuck the Goddamn fucking kids!” Grace said, her voice hoarse with desperate desire. “Fuck them!”

Peggy was delighted, hearing this come from a woman she had seen as aloof and somewhat chilly. Her impression of Grace being an erotic woman was certainly correct.

“Okay, fuck them,” she said. “Stick your finger in my cunt, Grace! Fingerfuck my pussy!”

“Oh, yes!” Grace yelped, flicking a finger deep into Peggy’s slippery cunt.

Peggy leaned back, one leg thrown over the rear of the couch with the other hanging over the cushions. She placed her head on the arm, looking down at Grace’s hand, the finger fucking in and out of her cunt swiftly.

Grace, her eyes moist and filmed over with passion, stared at the curls surrounding her finger.

“Eat me, Grace!” Peggy sobbed, lifting her ass and twisting around with desire. “Oh, Grace... eat my cunt! I love a tongue up my pussy! Suck me, Grace!”

“Oh, yes!”

Peggy, through the haze of her bubbling desire, watched Grace dip down, sliding her body along the cushions of the couch as she swiftly buried her face into her cunt. The movement caused Grace’s dress to ride past her hips, bunch at her waist. Peggy looked at the creamy swells of that beautiful ass, arching her cunt to meet Grace’s mouth.

Then she closed her eyes as passion gripped her.

Grace began to suck and lick and kiss at her cunt with an animal-like hunger. Peggy found Grace very skilled at eating cunt.

She closed her thighs about Grace’s head as the woman sucked her puffy cunt lips between her hot lips, her tongue lapping greedily, fluttering over her clit. Then Grace delved her tongue up into Peggy’s cunt, fucking it back and forth, fucking wildly. Her hands clutched at Peggy’s tight flexing ass, her fingers digging into the hot flesh.

Peggy held Grace’s head in her hands as she arched her hairy, wet pussy up, grinding into the woman’s face. The muffled squeals coming from Grace was all that was required for Peggy to know she had hold of a woman with intense erotic drives and hungers.

Her cunt closed tightly about Grace’s fucking tongue as she churned her crotch up and down, smashing her pussy into the face of the licking, sucking woman. Opening her eyes again, she looked down at the swell of Grace’s lovely ass cheeks, watching them twist as she banged her own cunt against the cushions of the couch. The sounds Grace made were those of a woman desperate to suck this hairy cunt.

It had been some time since she had been tongue fucked by a woman, and Peggy’s emotions were racing with delight. The ecstasy bubbled within her like foaming waves bursting upon some sandy beach. She held Grace’s head tightly, twisting her cunt harshly into that devouring mouth. When Grace sucked her clit between those hot lips, sucking hard as her tongue lapped the tip, Peggy sobbed as a tremendous orgasm ripped through her body. She slammed her cunt hard into Grace’s face, twisting.

Grace’s nose was buried in the thick curls of Peggy’s cunt, her fingers digging into Peggy’s light ass cheeks. She was breathing with excitement as she sucked on Peggy’s rigid, fiery clit. Her lips clung tightly to Peggy’s cunt as she came, moaning with the ecstasy she herself felt.

Grace did not release Peggy until she lowered her naked ass to the couch, and then she looked up with gleaming, bright eyes. Her face was smeared with the juices from Peggy’s pussy. Her dark eyes seemed to be pleading, and Peggy understood the driving torment the woman felt. Her naked ass continued to writhe.

“I want... I need...” Grace mumbled, feeling about Peggy’s cunt gently. “Oh, Peggy, please!”

Peggy caressed her fingers through Grace’s hair, smiling at the woman. “I understand, Grace,” she said softly. “I’ll help you, of course.”

The torment, seemed to leave Grace’s face, and she sat up smiling happily.

“But what about Susy and Donny?” Peggy asked again. “We could easily get caught, you know.”

“Fuck Susy and Donny!” Grace said, again causing Peggy to be amused. “They can find their own fun!”

But, apparently changing her mind, Grace stood up. Peggy looked at the tall slender woman. It was a shame for Grace to hide that enticing body the way she did. Those goodies were just too sweet to conceal.

Grace held her hand out to Peggy. “We’ll go to Susy’s room. They won’t find us there.”

“Susy’s room? Why not your bedroom, Grace?”

“Because... you might not understand.”

“It’s your house,” Peggy said, standing up and taking the woman’s hand.

They walked quickly to Susy’s room. It was the typical teenage girl’s room, with a poster bed, canopy and all. The room was painted pink, and all the furniture was white. Lace and ruffles were everywhere. The room was neat and looked very clean.

Grace sat, on her daughter’s bed, spreading her legs wide. Leaning back on one hand, she caressed her dark-haired cunt with long fingers, smiling with anticipation at Peggy. Peggy dropped to her knees in front of Grace, sliding her hands along those satiny, slender thighs. She gazed into Grace’s crotch, seeing one of the prettiest cunts ever. The hair, dark and very thick formed a perfect triangle. The long strands framed puffy pink cunt lips, and the tip of Grace’s clit peeked invitingly from the moist folds.

Peggy pressed her mouth to Grace’s cunt, kissing moistly. When Grace lay back, Peggy shoved her long legs up and back until Grace held them tight against her arching tits. Peggy, on her knees, gazed with pleasure at the woman’s hairy cunt and puckered asshole. It had been some time since she had had her lips against a cunt, and she was eager for it now. Stroking her hands about the backs of Grace’s thighs and curves of her ass, she teased them both. She probed lightly at the lips of the woman’s pussy, tickled her sensitive clit, making Grace whimper with eagerness, her ass shaking.

“Ohhhh, Peggy! Eat my cunt, please! Lick my hot pussy and tonguefuck it and make me come! Oh, hurry and suck my cunt!”

Peggy moved her face close, her tongue licking about the woman’s puffy pussy lips. She traced Grace’s cunt with her tongue tip, holding the parted cheeks of her ass with both hands. Dipping down, she scraped her tongue around Grace’s asshole, felt her asshole tighten and heard a sob of ecstasy bubble from the woman’s mouth.

Peggy started licking her tongue up and down, going from the pucker of her asshole to the tip of her clit. Up and down her tongue went, her hot breath causing Grace to tremble and yelp with delight. When she slipped her tongue inside the slippery, steaming cunt, her upper lips smashed at Grace’s distended clit. Flicking her tongue in and out swiftly, she writhed her lip. Grace began to twist and churn her cunt furiously, making it difficult for Peggy to keep her mouth pressing upon her pussy. Sometimes her lips and tongue were on Grace’s asshole, sometimes simply in the thick cunt hair, but most of the time she managed to keep her tongue fucking into the heat of that boiling cunt.

She knew when Grace started coming before her wild screams began to fill the room. She knew it because Grace’s cunt closed about her tongue like a wet, slippery vise. She fucked her tongue in and out swiftly as Grace came, the orgasm drawn out until Peggy wondered if Grace would ever stop. And, the screams of Grace got louder. Peggy had to cling to the woman’s hips with tight hands because her ass was churning up and down and revolving powerfully.

When she thought the orgasm was over, Peggy started to pull her tongue free. But Grace had grabbed her head and pulled her mouth tightly into her cunt, her long legs draping over Peggy’s shoulders. The beat of those thighs against her cheeks sent a rumbling orgasm bursting within Peggy’s cunt, and she began to lick and suck furiously once more at the dripping pussy.

“More! Oh, more!” Grace yelled frantically. “I want more! Give me more, you hot fucking cunt! Ohhhh, you sweet fucking bitch! Give me more tongue!”

Peggy heard the words of Grace. Her tongue shot into the cunt once more, sucking in a frenzy.

It was wild and somewhat strange to Peggy. Grace seemed so desperate for this, but the words she yelled somehow failed to fit the image the woman had been showing. Being called those names did not bother her at all. She knew passion was holding Grace. It was the desperation of a woman with intense sexual feelings, nothing more. The words meant nothing except that Grace was almost out of her mind with steaming desire.

The woman’s dark-haired cunt was in spasms again, the lips sucking and clinging to Peggy’s tongue, flexing in wave after wave of orgasms.

It seemed hours before Grace finally let her ass slump, and Peggy pulled her thoroughly wet face out of the greedy cunt. She sat on her heels, watching as Grace breathed with sharp gasps, her naked body trembling and shivering with the after glow of satisfaction.

Later, after dressing, they sat in the dining room of the house, drinking coffee. Peggy could not get over this difference in Grace. No longer did she appear to be a woman of mindless desire. Once again she looked cool and aloof, but her dark eyes were friendly now, very friendly.

“I’ve got to be careful,” Grace said when Peggy asked about this seemingly double personality.

“I don’t understand that at all, Grace,” Peggy said. “You certainly aren’t a cold person—what we just did proves that very well. Is it your husband? Does he cause this... this coolness?”

Grace laughed, the sound low and sensual. “Oh, my goodness no! I think I’ve given you the wrong impression, Peggy.”

“I still don’t understand,” Peggy insisted. “We’ve lived next door to each other all this time, yet you’ve seldom spoke to me, or anyone else that I’m aware of. Why, be so stand-offish?”

“I told you the other day that once we got to know each other, you might understand it,” Grace said. “I’m not sure the time is right, even now.”

But Peggy began to think she understood. She looked at Grace for a long moment, then said, very deliberately. “Do you know that Donny is fucking Susy?”

Grace stared back at Peggy. Although her expression did not change, those dark eyes seemed to become mysterious. Slowly, Grace nodded her head.

“You don’t mind?” Peggy said.

Again there was slight change in Grace’s eyes, but then they became warm again. “There isn’t much I can do about it, Peggy, if I did mind.”

“Of course you can do something about it,” Peggy said. “You’re her mother.”

“Then why don’t you talk to Donny?” Grace said. “Do you care if he’s fucking my daughter?”

“Only if you do,” Peggy said. “Otherwise, I don’t mind at all.” She looked closely at Grace. “What do you mean, there’s nothing you can do about it?”

“Susy is... hot,” Grace said. “She’s so fucking hot, she’s almost insatiable.”

“Susy? Your daughter is...”

Grace nodded. “But it’s understandable, Peggy. After all, look what we just did. I’m that way myself.”

“And your husband?” Peggy pressed. “I suppose he can’t handle you... give you enough?”

“Of course he can,” Grace laughed. “It looks as if you’re going to find out things quicker than I thought.” She stood up.

“Come with me... I’ll show you.”

Curious, Peggy followed Grace down the hall. She watched the sway of Grace’s ass cheeks, seeing a much different walk than usual. She realized that, in her own home, Grace was natural, but strived to be cool in public.

As she stepped into the master bedroom, her eyes went wide.

Every wall, was solid mirror, ceiling and floor included. There was a huge waterbed in the center of the bedroom, and reflections were all over the place. The waterbed was round, and the only thing on it was a black satin sheet. There were white figures all over it, and on close inspection, Peggy saw the figures were all entwined in various sexual positions.

“I love it!” she breathed excitedly. “I just adore it, Grace.”

“Paul and I designed it,” Grace replied. “He’s just as horny as I am... and... Susy. Do you understand now, Peggy?”

“I’m not sure,” Peggy said. “I see a room designed for erotic fucking, of course, and I know you’re a hot one.”

Grace opened a concealed door. It was a closet, Peggy saw, filled with various articles of clothing. When Grace showed the clothing to her, she saw they were all designed with one thing in mind—to tantalize and arouse.

One garment caught her eye.

Taking it from the closet, she looked at it. It was a dress, but certainly too small for Grace. From the front it was complete, but there were two holes in the bodice, where tits could protrude. Turning it, she saw the dress ended at the waist, with the back missing. It had been designed to reveal the person’s ass who wore it.

She looked at Grace.

There was a faint flush on her beautiful flesh, and her dark eyes seemed shy suddenly.

“You and Paul are very erotic, aren’t you?” Peggy said.

“Now you know,” Grace replied, sounding oddly flustered. “Please, Peggy, you won’t say anything about this, will you?”

“Now, who would I tell?”

Grace hugged Peggy. “You don’t think I’m... wicked?” “Good God, no!” Peggy laughed. “I find this delightful!”

187 notes · View notes

fandomnerd9602 · 9 months

Text

Substitute

Wanda Maximoff x Nerd!Reader

Avengers High Series

Dating the most popular young witch on the Avengers High campus has been one of the greatest joys. Special dates on weekends, front row seating when she's doing a cheerleading routine during one of the football games. Though your favorite thing to do is to just sit together on a cool day and listen to the Lungs album of Florence and the Machine.

But you were deemed the second most intelligent student at Avengers High, second only to Tony Stark; some faculty would deem you first due to your responsible nature. This allowed you some unexpected perks. Mr. Fury approached you one morning with an interesting proposal.

"It's just for one day" he assured you, "notes are already written. I just need a substitute for this class."

"And you want me to do?"

He gave you a nod. You looked at which class it was going to be, an idea already forming in your head.

"Sure thing Mr. Fury" you gave a smile and went off to go talk with Wanda. She, having seen the whole exchange, walked over to you rather confused.

"What was that all about?" She asks with a little giggle.

"Nothing" you reassure her, "see you after class?"

Wanda gives a quick little nod before kissing your cheek and heading off to class.

Wanda's first two classes for the day were uneventful. She tried to sneakily text you but she got no response. You weren't there for lunch either, Wanda was finding today rather unusual for you to not be there. But she made her way to her final class of the day, Creative Writing, her favorite class and you weren't there to walk her to it.

She came into the classroom and slumped into her usual seat, not even looking up. Her fingers quickly typed out one last text to you. Where are you?

Look up, was your response. Wanda immediately looked up and gasped.

"Good morning class" you say with a little smirk, "my name is (Y/N) and I'll be filling in for Miss Hill today"

Wanda couldn't stop staring at you. It wasn't hard, you were at the front of the class and you seemed like such a natural being a leader.

"Ms Maximoff" you smirk, "is there something you wish to share with the class? Your mouth will be catching flies"

Natasha couldn't help but giggle from the back. The red head was getting a kick out of the site before her.

"H-Hi" Wanda managed to get out

"Hello to you as well" you smile before going back into a lecture. You give your girlfriend a little wink. Wanda was hardly paying attention during the entire class period.

And then at the end of the class period, the bell rang signalling the end of another school day. Everyone else was quick to leave except for Wanda, she found herself packing her backpack a little slower than usual.

"So this is where you were?" Wanda found herself laughing.

"Mr. Fury needed someone to fill in so i guess it was either me or Tony" you shrug. The two of you share a little laugh.

"I-I thought you were ignoring me" Wanda bit her lip. You walk up and gently comb a few strands of hair from her face.

"Never" you whisper back, "and from what I saw, you missed a few points of my lecture."

"Oh drat" Wanda mockingly responds as you wrap your arms around her waist. "I suppose you'll just have to tutor me after school today"

"I suppose so." you answer back before pulling her into your arms. "I'm free to tutor you now if you'd like."

Wanda giggles as you begin peppering her face with kisses. "I love our study dates" she sighs as she wraps her arms around your neck, kissing you again.

What a surprise indeed.

for @aloneodi @lifespectator @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @cole-el @holiday-house-of-m @fromtimetoinf @supercorpdanbeau @iamnicodemus @tokufighter @natashaswife4125

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #avengers high #high school au #high school #wanda maximoff fluff

406 notes · View notes

cdragons · 4 months

Text

Warmth & Stories - Aemond Targaryen x Wildling!Reader

Next Part

Summary: Love can bloom in the most unusual ways. The love between a stoic prince from the South and a wildling storyteller will be written in history as one of the strangest but truest of loves.

Author's Notes: To my very lovely and wonderful friend and beta reader Bel, aka @valeskafics, I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and New Year's! This is the first part of this fic gift I wanted to give you, and I promise the next part will have smut! I hope you like this fic and can feel my love and appreciation for you. Bel, you are one of my favorite writers of all time and a huge reason I began posting fanfics and writing in the first place. I am so grateful that you opened a whole new world for me, and I hope this year gives you lots of happiness.

Warning(s): Slight cursing, Reader's parents were killed, Daemon's an ass, Viserys is a negligent father, Westeros is Westeros, dysfunctional family shenanigans

Prince Aemond Targaryen was known to be many things. Proud. Serious. Studious. All things one should be proud of in a young man’s position. Every single one of his teachers and wet nurses sung praises of the young prince since he began to toddle. And although it might seem cruel to admit it, the second prince was the apple of the Queen’s eye and the clear favorite of her four children.

Her sweet Aemond was a mild, studious young boy who practiced his faith in the Seven despite his blood lineage belonging to the Old Gods of Valryia. Besides Aegon, he had always been respectful to his siblings–especially to his elder sister, Helaena. Aemond would often humor his sister’s strange ramblings and gift her with little creatures he found as he wandered the ancient walls of the Red Keep. Helanea, despite all her reclusiveness, only seemed comfortable enough to be touched with her younger brother and often offered comfort whenever he complained about how unfair it was that he still had no dragon. His sister was as fond of her younger brother as he was of her and would usually humor his requests.

Except now.

“Please?” Aemond had been pleading for over an hour, reaching a point where most would pity him.

“No,” replied his sister sternly, “I’ve already told you my answer won’t change.”

“But why?” he pathetically asked as his voice cracked. It was good that Aegon was still in his room, too drunk to start the day. Aemond would never have lived it down without allowing his brother to see him like this. “I won’t ask for anything else from you, I swear it.”

“No, absolutely not.”

“But why?” demanded Aemond. “I would never harm (Y/N). Name one person in the Seven Kingdoms who would treat her better than I?”

Too upset by his sister’s refusal, the prince stormed out of the room in a near-blind rage.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) was no noblewoman or someone with any particularly wealthy connections or background. You weren’t even someone born within the Walls in the North.

No, you were from a tribe of wildings that hailed outside the Wall and were brought within the borders after your parents were caught stealing. The Starks decided to spare when they realized their daughter was just a tiny child with an incredible talent for storytelling. Within a year, the tales that Y/N wove with her tongue had reached the ears of Aemond’s father, King Viserys of House Targaryen. The King was fascinated by the young girl beyond the Wall, who spun tales of giants and spirits from the Land of Always Winter. He spared no expense in bringing you to King’s Landing.

Aemond could remember the day so clearly, as you arrived very shortly after his bastard nephew took his eye in Driftmark, and his father did nothing but protect his whore of a half-sister. When brought into the keep, you could hardly present yourself to a room full of nobles, let alone the King. You stood before his father and family barefoot and filthy. Your clothes looked closer to rags and torn cloth, and your (h/c) mane was wild with a few braids and feathers. But that hardly mattered. As soon as you opened your mouth, it was as if everyone in the Great Hall had been transported to another world.

The story you told started with a young princess given a toy soldier named the “Nussknacker.” The young princess loved her little toy soldier so much that her sweet Nussknacker came to life one night. He told the princess a prince to a winter wonderland full of fairies, sugar plums, and magic. His home had been overtaken by a maniacal Rattenkönig, and he turned the prince into his current form. The soldier and princess had to face many trials, but they were successful in defeating the evil Rattenkönig and saving the prince’s kingdom. The Nussknacker turned back into the handsome prince he had always been, and he and the princess married to lead his kingdom into prosperity.

By the time you finished telling your story, the Royal court went ablaze with applause. Your pretty words and skillful tongue enraptured every noble. They longed to hear more of your stories and were starved for entertainment. His father was in an especially jolly mood after hearing your tale. He immediately appointed you as the troubadour of the Royal Court held in protection under the Royal Targaryen House. A proclamation that horrified both the king’s Hand and the Queen, to say the least. It was no secret that Aemond’s mother and grandfather did not look favorably on you. More than once, he heard his mother seethe in anger at the attention her husband gave to you as you sat beside him during his father’s pain flares. In her eyes, you were a savage hellion who likely spread her legs up from the Wall in the North to the Great Hall of the Red Keep in the South.

But in Aemond’s eyes, you were an angel. It was not only his father’s pain you soothed with your stories, but also his own. He tried his best to keep his distance from you, but it wasn’t long until you gained his sister’s favor. From then on, whenever he spotted Helaena, you were by her side. The tall and icy walls he tried to maintain around you came crashing down before he knew it. His mother so loved him because he always did as she instructed, including to remain far away from the new child from beyond the North.

But one night, the scar on his eye had been so painful that he gained a fever that lasted for nearly a week. The maesters weren’t sure if he would survive the sickness, as it was a result of his lost eye being inflamed. His mother had resigned herself to crying by his bedside while his sister would sit with him and talk about her day. But one night, when he was delirious with pain, you somehow managed to sneak in from one of the secret tunnels within the keep’s walls. He couldn’t see you, but he recognized your voice. He wanted to scream for you to leave his room, threatening that he would call over the guards standing outside. But then you spoke, and it seemed as if his world of pain had just washed away. You spoke to him about the history of Old Valyria and the beautiful tales of dragons and knights that were lost in time. This continued on every night during his ailment.

“Do you miss your parents?” Aemond asked you one night. But he immediately regretted his question when he saw how your shoulders tensed.

“Sometimes,” you replied after a few moments of silence, “I understand that they are in a better place, wherever they are. But sometimes I wish they were here so I wouldn’t be alone.”

“But you have Helaena to be with you. Even my father adores your company.”

You only scoffed in response.

“Helaena is wonderful,” you bitterly continued, “I am glad to have a friend as sweet and kind as her in this poisonous hellhole you call home. But your father-” you paused a moment to lick your lips to figure out how to phrase your thoughts – “all he sees me as is a toy. A commodity. A funny little object that he bought to entertain him. He never mistreated me but does not respect me as a person, let alone as a subject.”

The tears in your eyes welled to the point where they almost spilled, and you immediately stopped talking to prevent further incriminating yourself.

“You have no idea what it’s like-” you let out a bitter laugh before continuing to cry – “to have your family taken away from you. To watch your parents be executed before your eyes when you were only a small child. And for what? Stealing a loaf of stale bread? What should that matter to the Starks? They have their pretty castle with warm fires and fur blankets. My mother and father worked for everything they had in order to care for me. Now here I am, away from the silver winter I called home and stuck in the shit-odor that covers precious South.”

“However much you hate your family, at least you still have them. I have no one. No one to share my culture and past with, no one to understand your customs and way of life. Call my parents whatever you want. Savages. Thieves. Scum. But they loved me. However little it was, they taught me to be proud of myself. They were my whole life, and now they’re gone.”

You ran out of his chambers and back into the wall. Aemond didn’t see you for several days, even after his fever broke and the maesters told his mother he would live. Two weeks passed, and Aemond felt as if he were going mad. When he finally spotted you in one of the more secluded areas of the library, he grabbed your arm before you could scurry off.

“Tell me,” he told you. “Tell me everything about your parents, your home. Tell me about how the air was clean and clear. Tell me about how everywhere you looked, you saw white snow and clear ice. Tell me how much you loved your family, pets, friends – if you had any. I don’t care what it is. Tell me everything.”

At first, you only stared. He couldn’t tell if you were furious or in shock. But soon, your eyes lit up as if you had been given five hundred gold dragons.

“Where do you want me to start?” you asked him, eyes wide with joy and a heart finally learning to trust.

Lo and behold, he found his heart beginning to feel the same.

“Wherever you want.”

The smile you gave him was worth more than all the money locked within the Royal Treasury.

So many nights since that day, you would sit by his bedside, speaking so prettily that even the most brutal of their acts and customs fascinated Aemond. You would burn the midnight oil, telling him about the adventures and raids of the Free People beyond the Wall. That’s how you referred to yourself as a “free woman.” While you despised the title “savage,” you did not mind being labeled as “wilding.” You claimed that since you were born outside the Wall, the laws of Westeros did not apply to you. You have been seen as wild, but you knew in your heart that you were born free. And what was more impressive to Aemond was how you honestly and sincerely believed that you were born as a free woman.

He saw it in the way you would make little shadow puppets shows to bring a smile from Daeron after it was announced that he would leave for Oldtown.

He heard it in how you got the cooks to spit on your name after stealing bread from kitchens and then giving it to the small folk children living in impoverished areas of Flea Bottom.

He smelt it in how your hair would always smell like the wind in the Godswood to ride his horse when you were supposed to be learning your letters with the Head Septa.

He tasted it when you let him take a sip of that rotten ale you made in secret when you went through one of your horrible bouts of homesickness.

He felt it in how you raced to his chambers to hug him after he woke up from another nightmare of the memory of that night when he lost his right eye.

You were the strangest mystery Aemond had ever and will ever know. No matter how long he spent searching for answers in his favorite corner of the library, Aemond could never understand how someone with a heart as warm as (Y/N) could come from the frozen wasteland she loved to call home.

With a single but powerful stroke of his blade, Lord Vaemond Velaryon’s upper jaw fell as the rest of his body dropped to the floor. Visenya’s Dark Sister had once more bathed in its victim’s blood. Gasps and shrieks filled the Great Hall at the sight of dark blood oozing from his corpse. The members of the Royal members all had varying reactions. From his mother’s side, Helaena immediately covered her eyes and turned away – utterly horrified by the swift mutilation. Aegon grimaced but was otherwise unaffected. Not surprising. He’d seen similar carnage from the illegal fight rings run in Flea Bottom. Aemond took a slight step back in shock as he gaped at the now-deceased lord in mild admiration.

He had no idea tongues were so long.

Prince Daemon Targaryen stood before his ailing brother, tall and proud. There was not a twinge of remorse or regret on his youthful visage as he towered over the spilled blood soaking his boots. Undoubtedly, this man carried the blood and fire of the proud dragons that graced their house.

“He can keep his tongue.”

Brutish as Daemon was known to be, Aemond respected his uncle’s instinct to remove objects that voiced slander against his wife. However much of a whore his half-sister may be, she was still of royal blood and their father’s firstborn.

However, he wasn’t sure how much that last fact mattered, considering how she spread her legs to swill only to produce bastards as her heirs.

His grandfather ordered the Kingsguards to disarm his uncle, but Daemon only scoffed as he wiped the blood off his ancient blade with an old rag. Moments later, Aemond’s decaying father collapsed on the Iron Throne in exhaustion after over-exerting himself. His mother immediately rushed over to aid him when she heard his pained groans.

“Call the Maesters!” she shouted before reaching him. And when his father fell into her arms, that was the first time Aemond saw you throughout this entire proceeding.

You stood close to the walls, remaining present but unseen. It was not until his father called for you by his side that he removed you from your hiding place. You and an apprentice Maester took Viserys to his chambers, leaving behind his wife, children, grandchildren, and every member of the Royal Court. As Aemond watched you carry his hobbling sire to his chambers – likely to recite to him a passage of the History of Old Valyria or one of the many tales surrounding Queen Visenya’s practice of the dark arts – his blood froze as he noticed Daemon’s gaze was focused not on his brother, but on you.

An hour had passed since Lord Vaemond Velaryon’s unfortunate passing, and Aemond was still no closer to finding you. He felt as if he was going mad in desperation. He checked everywhere. The kitchens, catching you sneak bites of freshly baked honey cakes. The stables, to find you feeding the mares and stallions carrots and apples. Your chambers, spying through the keyhole as you sat at your desk writing new stories. He even went so far as to ride to the dragonpit, hoping that you were reading to Vhagar again. He was close to announcing an order to search for you to the closest Kingsguard when he spotted you standing underneath the Heartstree. When another figure approached you, the one-eyed prince was about to call out your name.

Daemon. And judging by the way his violet eyes leered at your womanly form, it was clear to Aemond that this meeting was no coincidence. Aemond stepped out of view and pressed himself close to the garden’s entrance. The silver-tressed prince cursed himself for not publicly claiming you so everyone knew you were his and his alone. Differences in stations mattered little when you grew up so beautifully.

A fact he was sure that did not go unnoticed by his uncle despite meeting you for the first time.

Not for the first time did Aemond find himself cursing the gods for creating perfection in a single woman. Time had been unkind to many but seemed to spare you of any misfortune. While you were far from the polished and perfect image of a proper lady, you slowly but surely assimilated yourself to life in the South of the Wall. You traded your hides and furs for dresses and trousers. Your wild (h/c) mane became untangled by his sister’s ladies-in-waiting frequent brushings. Regular meals and proper care took a starving child with sharp, bony jabs to a woman with soft, feminine curves and beauty rivaling the Maiden herself.

“How have you found your time so far from the wall, little wilding?”

“I spent every waking second soaked and flushed from sweat and heat. To make it worse, I can’t escape the shit and piss that stains and bathes your pretty keep. Tell me, does that answer your question, my prince?”

Daemon barked a short laugh, amused that his brother took in someone so clearly different from the court’s usual vultures.

“When I heard my brother had taken in a little girl from outside the wall as his little entertainer, I was expecting a hobbled cripple caked in dirt with no sign of grooming. But here you stand, appearing more like a proper lady than a savage wildling.”

“You can take the girl from the North, but you can never take the North from the girl.”

No truer words had ever been spoken.

Aemond smiled at your quick wit and tongue. You were still every bit of the girl dragged before his father when he was only ten name-days old, even if you changed a little bit.

You still styled your hair with the little braids commonly worn in the North, but sometimes, he would catch Helaena tucking feathers in your locks.

You still carried your father’s old hunting knife on your person, but you also kept the Valyrian steel dagger Aemond gave you on Yuletide Eve from three years past.

You still made frequent trips to pass the bread to the small folk in Flea Bottom; you always made sure to help lead Aegon back to his bed after he drank himself stupidly.

It was a challenge, but you’ve adapted and made a life here with the Royal Family, whether you liked it or not.

“Do you ever plan on coming out from behind the wall, my prince? Or do you plan on renouncing your title and becoming Master of Whispers on your father’s small council?”

Realizing that his cover has been blown, Aemond brought himself in view to face the wildling girl who had stolen his heart almost eight years ago. He was relieved that his uncle had left the gardens, probably to inseminate his half-sister once more. It was as if she needed more children to convince all of King’s Landing that her claim on his brother’s throne was legitimate and valid. It did not matter that the evidence of her whorish nature was growing before their eyes.

“Careful, my lady,” replied Aemond, “one might think your words as treason towards the prince.”

“Please,” you scoffed, “the only people who continue to insist on taming my tongue are your mother and grandfather. And we both know my opinions of both parties.” Your cheeks began to flush, and your demeanor grew shy as you whispered your following words. “Besides, why would I need to be afraid of anything when I have you?”

Oh, how his cold, bitter heart grew ten times warmer with your sweet words. He removed his black riding gloves, reached for your hands, and was taken aback by how cold your skin felt against his own.

As if afraid of his voice, he cradled your hands softly as if he were the hunter and you were a little snow rabbit on the edge of running away. Your unblinking observation persisted as you silently watched your silver-haired prince raised both of your hands to his pink lips. He took in a deep breath before exhaling out. The heat of his breath against your fingers sent chills down your back. His mouth was opened just enough for you to see his tongue, bringing a deep sense of shame to wash over you as you dreamed of how good it would feel to have his tongue feast on your cunt.

“What possessed you to come outside without a cloak?” The low timbres of his voice broke you from your lust as you just now realized that you brought yourself into his trap. “It is already winter (Y/n). You could grow sick if you are not careful.”

“You forget yourself, Aemond,” you replied, tearing your hands from his grip. You almost wept at how profoundly you felt the loss of his warmth. When did his hands become so rough and big? “I have the true North in my veins. Such meek and pitiful clouds and winds could never get me ill.”

“Why were you outside at all?” Aemond had hoped to find you in one of the rooms with a fire roaring inside. Even if you were not alone, you would have been warm.

“Thinking about home, I suppose. I was tiny, but I would help gather whatever wood was available and put it in a big pile. We would put on our ceremonial furs and robes, along with masks we painted from the skulls of our kills. After that, the adults would drink themselves stupid on ale and heated yak’s milk as they and the children would gather around the wood pile and then burn it. I remember dancing with my parents around the fire as we sang praises for the old gods and yelled out prayers for the sun. A few boys would probably try to sneak some kisses from the girls with mistletoe.”

The silence that followed only added to the tension.

“I think I would have been stolen by now.”

“Stolen?”

“Your Southerners version of ‘marriage,’ I suppose,” you stated as you lightly shrugged, “at my age, if you weren’t stolen, it meant that something was wrong with you. If I remained with my tribe, some man would have stolen me by now and pumped me full of his babies.”

Aemond saw red. He clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles further paled to an almost translucent view of his veins as he imagined some savage, wildling man forcing himself on you. He wanted to ride Vhaghar beyond the North, if only reaching beyond the Wall and burning it all to the ground. No man other than him was allowed to touch you. He had only touched your hand and already decided that the rest of you belonged to him and him alone.

Taking a few steps closer to you, he removed his leather patch and lifted your chin between his fingers to force your focus on him. His ears caught a slight intake of breath when you saw his sapphire eye as he was so close that he could practically feel your heart racing in anticipation. He preened in satisfaction when he caught your perfect (e/c) irises dart down to his lips before resting his face again. Aemond didn’t need to look down to know that you were clenching your thighs in an attempt to stop your arousal from leaking.

His sister’s approval be damned.

If your traditions dictated that you must be ‘stolen’ to be a wife, then he would be the one to steal you.

“Sweet (Y/n), you’ve grown so cold.”

Do you wish to go back?

His face was so close to yours that you could feel breaths mix with your own. You could smell the fine leather of his tunic, and the fragrance of spices from his silvery locks wrapped you in a blanket of comfort. His violet eye’s gaze showed a vulnerability lost since that night in Driftmark. The night when he gained a dragon at the cost of becoming a cripple. If Aemond was to risk everything he’s worked for, he had to know.

Would you, a Free Woman, let yourself be called as his?

“No, my Aemond” - you took his hands in yours to tenderly kiss his knuckles- “not anymore.”

I am right where I belong.

And he believed you.

Tagging: @valeskafics, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @lady-ashfade , @faesspace, @its-actually-minicika, @aphroditesmoon, @bellamys-girl1, @immyowndefender, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @elinedjarin, @meg-egg-blog, @marvelescape, @mandiiblanche, @lokiofasgard12, @boxedpandas, @anewpersonthatexists, @toodlesxcuddles, @leavemeoutofitlay

#aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #hotd x reader #got x reader #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fluff #hotd fanfic #hotd fandom

255 notes · View notes

poisonousgirlie · 1 month

Text

Sparks: part II (Luke Castellan x Daughter of Zeus! Reader)

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for reading and supporting part I of Sparks, it means so much to me. Here is the second part, it's a bit shorter than the first, but I wanted to get this out so I can start working on the third and final part for everyone. Also, I'm a sucker for a slow burn I'm SORRY.

Word count: 1,271

Summary: Reader helps Luke deal with the aftermath of his quest, and grapples with her own feelings.

part I

Luke’s quest took a huge toll on him. His anger, pain, and humiliation combined, putting him in a pretty bad place when he returned to Camp Half-Blood. You had been worried sick the entire time he was gone, constantly filled with nervous energy and biting people’s heads off more than you ever would under normal circumstances. The moment Annabeth burst into your cabin, her normally cool demeanor disrupted, you knew in your gut that something was wrong. She only managed to get his name out of her mouth before you were running, sprinting at top speed, the wind propelling you forward, and everyone else out of your way. You burst through the front door of the Big House, skidding to a halt as you nearly ran into Chiron. The centaur’s face was grim as he redirected you to the infirmary. Your heart dropped, and in your panic, you retained little memory of the moments it took for you to get to him after that. He was sitting on one of the cots, Lee Fletcher standing in front of him. You approached him from the back, unable to see his face as you stepped into the room fully. Your body relaxed slightly as you deduced that he wasn’t dying, but instinctively something felt wrong. His shoulders were hunched, and his face turned slightly downwards, a stark contrast to the Luke you knew, always keeping his head high, shoulders back, all confidence and charisma. Lee noticed you first, saying your name in what sounded like relief. To both of your surprise, Luke stiffened at this, almost curling into himself more at your arrival. You approached him carefully, noting his tattered and blood-stained clothes with muted alarm but little surprise. As you rounded the bed to stand in front of him, Lee cleared his throat and stepped away. The dark-haired boy before you refused to look up at you for a moment. He only lifted his face to meet your eyes when you gently tilted his chin upwards, sliding your hand over his jaw to cradle his face as you took in his new scar. You carefully kept your face neutral; you knew Luke well enough to know that he would despise pity from you more than anything else. “Are you all right?” you questioned, your voice betraying you slightly as it shook a little. It pained you to your very soul to see him like this; you hated to see him injured, but more than anything, it was the empty look in his eyes that killed you. A scar would heal, his face just as handsome and striking as it had been, if not more so. What mattered to you was the boy underneath all of that, the one whom you could tell was on the verge of a very dark place. To anyone else, he may just seem a little down, nursing his injuries and stewing as anybody would when something did not go as planned. You, however, knew how much succeeding on this quest meant to him, something you could easily deduce had not happened. His voice was convincing as he assured you of his physical well-being, and you opted not to push him right away for any details. He would share when he was ready. In the meantime, you resolved to stay by his side, providing him with a steadfast source of support as he dealt with the fallout of the failed quest.

It took weeks before Luke was fully open to talking to you. You had coaxed pieces of the story out of him, careful not to push too hard in fear of forcing him back into his shell as opposed to opening up. You were sure to avoid showing any pity— that was not what he needed, and he was already perceiving too much of it from the campers around him. In truth, you didn’t pity him; you felt for him. The situation sucked, but he was not some moping defeated loser. He was still Luke Castellan, the same strong heroic leader you adored and looked up to so much; he had just been dealt a crappy hand, by a crappy dad. When he finally was ready to talk about how he was feeling, you were ready. It was late one night; he had snuck into your cabin after lights out, exhausted from a long day of counselor duties and emotional labor related to his quest. You two had yet to officially cross the blurry boundary between friends and more, but it was nothing unusual when he shucked off his shoes and hoodie and collapsed into your bed with you. He rested his head on your stomach, his body slotted between your legs, as he allowed himself to relax for the first time all day. You gently untangled his messy curls with your fingers, providing quiet support, and chiming in periodically as he spoke, getting everything off his chest. “I’m angry, sweetheart. Hermes ignored me my entire life, finally acknowledging me just to send me on a pointless quest I didn’t even complete. And now people look at me like a kicked fucking puppy. I can’t stand it.” His voice was furious, but you did not miss the tinge of pain underneath the acid in his tone. You allowed him to rant; it was better he shared his feelings than bottle them up and put them towards negative things. You talked him through it for hours, being the sounding board he needed to work through his tangled mess of emotions. Eventually, he felt slightly better, which in turn gave you some relief. It was early morning when the two of you finally went to sleep, limbs tangled together, and hearts slightly lighter than they were before.

Months had passed, and Luke was getting closer and closer to his old self, his confidence back, even if some of it was faked. His laugh had returned, and so had his vigor for training and helping the kids. You were positive your heart was going to beat out of your chest with happiness and pride when you saw him one day, laughing loudly as he played with some of the youngest campers in the arena. He had been giving them very beginner sword lessons, and after a while of practice, the littles had rebelled and were now climbing all over him like a human jungle gym. His tall frame bore their weight easily, letting a little boy dangle his entire weight off one arm as if he weighed nothing at all. Watching Luke do anything was attractive if you were being honest with yourself. Even more so since he returned from his quest. The time he was gone was the longest you had been without him since arriving at camp, and it made you realize how integral he was to your life. You could function without him, but it was so much better when he was there next to you. You had been grappling with your feelings for a while, weighing the pros and cons of pushing past the point of friendship. You had recently come to terms with the fact that you were stupidly in love with your best friend, due in part to the interference of your close friend and daughter of Aphrodite: Silena Beauregard, who had more or less knocked some sense into you. Your feelings were clear to you, his, however, were not, and you did not know how to proceed. The signals were confusing; people who did not know you would assume that the two of you were already together. You certainly acted like it in many ways. You were always together and definitely did not shy away from touching each other. Seeing him with an arm casually slung across your shoulders or around your waist was not uncommon, and neither was witnessing you fix his hair, dust off his shirt, or touch him in other casual small ways that denoted the level of comfort the two of you shared. Despite all of this, he had never made a move. There were countless times, late at night alone in your cabin (which you literally had all to yourself??), when you were sure he might kiss you, but he always looked away at just the last second, smoothly changing the subject and ending whatever moment had taken place. It started to weigh on you a bit, and there had been a few times now when you cried to Silena about the pain of loving your best friend in silence. The ache in your chest when you looked at him felt like you had been stabbed with a celestial bronze knife, one that was slowly being twisted the longer you remained in your state of uncertainty. It was never a doubt to you that he cared about you; first and foremost, he was your friend and an amazing one at that. It was the in-between and the wishing for more that caused the damage. Outside of you and Luke, anyone with eyes could see that you were hopelessly in love. The way your eyes lingered on his form, and vice versa, conveyed all that needed to be said; it was only the two of you standing in the way.

A/N: I'm choosing not to have Luke side with Kronos in this because I am choosing peace for myself. Again I apologize for any errors, and hope you liked part II!

xx poisonousgirlie

#luke castellan fluff #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #pjo fanfic #percy jackson fandom #percy jackson fanfiction

133 notes · View notes

sapphire-writes · 10 months

Text

Thin Ice (modern!HOTD)

pairing: Aegon x Reader & Cregan Stark x Reader

summary: You travel home with Aegon for the funeral of his father.

rating: Mature (detailed warning below the cut)

series masterlist

previous chapter ~ Ch. 9: Mirrors ~ next chapter

warnings: language, descriptions of death/funerals, descriptions of cuticle picking, oral (m & f receiving, 69), p in v, fingering, spanking, general violence (sibling v. sibling)

word count: 4.9k

note: hope you enjoy this chapter! thanks for all the love so far!

dividers by @firefly-graphics

Aemond is freakishly punctual. You discover this when you make it through security and realize you’re two hours early for your flight. Aegon groans dramatically, pulling you towards a store to stock up on snacks while you wait.

Criston and Aemond seem unbothered, heading to camp out at the gate for the next couple of hours. After spending way too much money on snacks, and way too much time in the airport, your flight boards and you’re headed to the Targaryen home. Dragonstone.

You’d been there briefly once when you went home with Helaena last winter break. But that was short-lived as you left with the family to head north to their winter home. Aegon slept for most of the flight, his fingers laced through yours the entire time.

The drive back to the Targaryen home doesn’t take much time at all; Criston had left his car at the airport and sped out of the parking garage with surprising speed. Dragonstone was a pretty town, covered in a layer of powdery snow that had mostly melted to a gray slush on the streets.

The air was cold as you exited the warmth of the car when pulling up to the house. The last time you’d been here, it had been during the evening. But now, in the afternoon sun, the Targaryen family home stood in all its glory. A tall, brick mansion really, more so than a home. As you walk up the steps you keep your hand in Aegon’s until the front door opens and you pull your hand away.

Helaena runs out the front door to greet you, her hair like a silver cloud trailing behind her.

“You came with Egg,” Helaena says, crushing you in a hug.

You wonder for a moment if she knows if she senses it somehow, this thing between you and her brother, but then she continues speaking.

“Thank you for getting him here,” she murmurs against your shoulder, “It means a lot. To my mom.”

Your heart sinks and you nod.

“Of course, Hel,” you tell her.

She hugs each of her brothers, following Aemond into the house. You and Aegon trail behind a few feet. His eyes fall on your empty hand, his expression like that of a dog that’s been kicked. You reach for him once more.

“After,” you tell Aegon, squeezing his hand. He nods, understanding.

You'd spent the afternoon catching up with Helaena, trying not to wonder how Aegon is doing. He’d made himself scarce this evening, trying to give you as much space as possible to be with Helaena. But you missed him. Even under the same roof, you feel so far from him.

You’re getting ready for bed, brushing your teeth with Helaena in the rather large hallway bathroom. Double marble sinks, a full shower. Sometimes you forget just how loaded the Targareyns are.

Helaena finishes brushing her teeth, retreating to her room. As she leaves, Aegon pushes by her, joining you in the bathroom. His violet eyes meet yours in the mirror, a mischievous smile on his face.

“What are you doing?” you hissed.

“Brushing my teeth,” he answers, placing the toothbrush in his mouth.

You roll your eyes and continue brushing. Aegon reaches out his free hand, pinching the fabric of your pajama top between his thumb and forefinger. You raise an eyebrow at him, before spitting into the sink.

He tugs gently at your shirt, beckoning you closer.

“Come cuddle with me,” he murmurs, around his toothbrush, poking you in the side, “I miss you.”

You twist away from him, a giggle leaving your lips. Your chest warms with the knowledge that he’s missed you as much as you’ve been missing him.

“I can’t,” you tell him, as he rolls your eyes.

You wipe your mouth as he finishes brushing his teeth. After he spits he stands in front of you, smiling widely to show his handy work. You release a breathy laugh at his silly behavior, to which his eyes narrow playfully.

“Kiss goodnight?” Aegon asks, jutting out his lower lip. You decide to indulge him, placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

He hums, hands reaching for your hips, pulling him back against you to kiss you once more.

“Goodnight,” you giggle against his lips. Aegon kisses you again.

And again.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs against your lips, hand reaching to cup the back of your neck, still continuing to kiss you.

You somehow find the strength to pull yourself away from his intoxicating touch, even as he whines disapprovingly as you do so. You head back to Helaena’s room, a stupid grin plastered on your face as you enter. She’s laying in bed already, gaze locked on her ceiling.

You join her, laying beside her and mirroring her position. There are several glow-in-the-dark stars stuck on the ceiling, glowing faintly a greenish-yellow color. You start to count them, listening to the rise and fall of Helaena’s breath.

“I’m not sad,” she says suddenly, and you stop counting at thirteen.

“What do you mean?” you ask, rolling on your side to face her.

Helaena sighs and closes her eyes before she continues speaking.

“My dad and I weren’t that close. Not really. And…” she wets her lips, “He really only had one daughter.” Helaena’s eyes remain closed as she says it. You bring your hand to hold hers, squeezing it softly.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she tells you, a tear escaping her eye and rolling off her cheek, onto the pillow, “I just…I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel.”

“Fuck how you’re supposed to feel,” you tell her, “Whatever you feel, however you feel about this Hel is okay. There’s no wrong way.”

Helaena’s eyes flutter open and she turns her head to look at you. Her lavender eyes watch you a moment before she purses her lips and nods.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” she says softly.

“Me too,” you agree, returning her smile with one of your own. You squeeze her hand once more before letting go.

Helaena’s breathing grows heavy as you lie on your back once more, starting over with your counting of the stars on her ceiling.

You make it to 72 before you decide you really can’t sleep. Helaena snores beside you as you fiddle with your fingers before checking the time on your phone. Even with the brightness on the lowest setting it still feels too harsh on your eyes as you glance at the time.

1:37 am

Fuck.

You can hear muffled noises from around the house, down the hall. You doubt Alicent is getting any sleep. Apparently, a lot happens right after someone dies. It seems people have been in and out of the house all day speaking with Viserys’ widow.

It’s going to be a long night if you can’t sleep.

You rise from Helaena’s bed, letting the sheets fall as you quietly tip-toe out of her room. You close the door gently behind you as you head down the hall. You’ll just grab a glass of water, and then-

His voice. You clearly hear Aegon’s voice behind the fourth door you pass. It’s closed and you lean closer. It’s Aegon for sure. He’s cursing someone out, probably playing a video game or something. You knock gently on the door and his voice stops. You hear him shuffle around for a moment before the door opens, revealing a shirtless Aegon with gray sweats hanging low on his hips.

Aegon’s lips curl into a smile as he sees you, and he steps to the side, motioning for you to enter.

“This is your room?” you ask, stepping inside as he closes the door behind you.

Aegon nods, holding his arms open. It’s a nice room, decent sized with a large king-sized bed in the middle. It looks like Alicent took control of decorating- apart from several hockey posters the room is very not Aegon.

“It’s nice,” you tell him, smiling.

“You come to cuddle?” Aegon asks, walking toward you.

“Just for a little bit,” you warn him as he stands in front of you, “I can’t sleep.”

“I know the perfect thing for that,” he says like he’s discovered the cure for greyscale.

You laugh softly.

“I’m sure you do,” you tease as Aegon smiles pulling you in for a kiss.

He kisses you slowly and softly, building with intensity as he tilts his head. With a sigh, he slips his tongue into your mouth, the familiar cold of his tongue ring making you shiver. Aegon backs up, taking you with him as his knees hit the edge of the bed and he tumbles onto it.

Your hands tangle in his silver hair, nails scraping against the back of his neck. Aegon groans as you do that.

“You wanna play another game?” Aegon asks, kissing the tip of your nose.

“You know you sound like Jigsaw when you say that, right?” you tease, kissing him again. Aegon moves to kiss your collarbone, lips climbing up your neck.

“Wanna play a game?” Aegon says, imitating the Saw character. You burst into laughter, and Aegon places his hand over your mouth, shushing you.

“Shhh,” he says softly, though he’s in stitches as well.

You take a moment more before you’re okay enough to continue.

“What game?” you ask, anticipation curling in your belly.

“I want to see who can cum first,” Aegon says, keeping his voice low, “And whoever does, loses.”

Your heart pounds wildly in your chest. He always says these things so casually, like he has no idea it sends your pulse racing. Or maybe he does, maybe that’s why he likes doing it. His fingers are tracing a path down your side on the exposed flesh from your pajama top that has ridden up.

“Aegon,” you tell him sternly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Your family is here.”

“Makes it even more fun,” he tells you with a shrug as his fingers trace lazy patterns on your lower stomach, “Just stay quiet, baby.”

“That’s kinda difficult when you’re oooh,” you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut as his fingers drift below your waistband, stroking the front of your panties.

“Fuck you’re wet already,” Aegon muses, “I get you all excited, bunny?” His teeth find purchase on your earlobe as he says it and you buck your hips against his fingers. “I think you want to play.”

“Aegon,” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulder, dragging him closer to you.

“Say it,” Aegon encourages, fingers slipping underneath your panties and dragging slow circles over your clit.

Your lashes flutter and you meet his eyes, warmth flooding through you.

“I want to play,” you whine, as he sinks a finger into your tight heat, “Oh fuck.”

Aegon hums appreciatively, kissing the side of your neck as he steadily fingers you, curling his finger to stroke against your sweet spot.

“Give me one, and then we’ll play,” he says, adding a second finger inside you. Your jaw slacks and you spread your legs wider, bending your knees against the mattress allowing him more room to continue.

Your orgasm quickly builds, winding tighter in your belly until your pussy constricts his fingers, spasming into your release. Your legs tremble and Aegon removes his fingers slowly, bringing them to his mouth to lick clean.

“Fucking perfect,” he moans as you watch with wide eyes. Aegon grins before laying on his back. “Now get up here.”

Your face floods with warmth.

“What?” you ask.

“You’re gonna ride my face,” Aegon clarifies.

“Are-are you sure?” you manage to squeak. You’d done it a couple of times- guys loved 69’ing for some reason- but you were never the biggest fan when doing it with male partners. But for some reason, the thought of doing it with Aegon, and the temptation of his game, had your heart racing.

“Mhmm,” Aegon says, “Very sure. Desperate actually.” That makes you giggle. He always knows how to make you feel comfortable.

“Come up here, bunny, I’m getting impatient,” he teases and you remove your shorts and shirt. Aegon takes the time to remove his sweatpants and you get a glimpse of his full tattoo that runs down his ribs to his thigh.

You’ve only seen the top half before, so you find yourself staring for a moment, admiring the full body of the dragon, before Aegon whistles at you.

“Goddamn, bunny,” he says, eyes roaming your naked form.

You don’t make him wait any longer. You move to straddle his face, thighs on either side of his head as you lower your dripping pussy onto him. Just as his tongue spreads your folds, you wrap your hand around his hardened length, earning a moan from him.

Aegon truly has a beautiful cock. You’d never taken the time to appreciate it as much as you do right now. Long, thick, and pale except for the red tip that weeps with precum. There are several veins running down the shaft that you run your fingers along gently, causing Aegon to shiver. He’s girthier than anyone you’d been with previously.

Anticipation coils in your gut at the thought of sucking Aegon’s cock. You hadn’t done that yet. A moan leaves your lips as he drags his tongue to circle your clit before diving lower to tease at your entrance. You wet your lips, pumping him in your hand a few more times before lowering your lips to the tip.

You wrap your lips around his tip, letting your tongue flick out against his slit, cleaning off the precum that gathered there. The warm and salty taste coats your tongue and you hum appreciatively. Aegon hisses below you, you can feel his breath against your center. You hollow your cheeks, still just suckling at his tip. This awards you a deep groan from him and he lets his hand smack harshly against your right asscheek.

You yelp in surprise, popping your mouth off of his cock for a moment.

“You tease,” Aegon murmurs, before starting to fuck you with the warm, wet muscle of his tongue. You giggle, bringing your mouth to him once more.

You bob your head around him, taking more of him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks, and trying to remember to breathe through your nose. Jesus, he’s big. You take what you can’t fit into your mouth into your hand as you move up and down along his shaft. Drool seeps down from your mouth, and you lube up your hand to join in your ministries.

“Fuck,” Aegon curses below you and you can’t help but smile. He digs his hands into your asscheeks, pressing you as close as he can to his eager mouth as he laps away, “Jesus bunny.”

Pride courses through you, and you move your hand to play with his balls. His hips jerk upwards at your touch as you fondly them carefully in tandem with the movement of your mouth.

“Okay shiiiit,” Aegon says breathily, “You’re trying to win, fuuuck.” You hum against him as he curses, hoping the vibrations drive him crazy. They seem to, as he releases another string of curses and brings his hand to help his mouth.

You moan as you feel his finger enter you, curling upwards against your sweet spot, stroking it with intense purpose. The bastard knows how to get what he wants. You try to keep up your rhythm, you have him right in the palm of your hand, but then he adds another finger, wraps his lips around your bud, and sucks and you tremble against him, grinding your pussy against his face as you fall apart.

“Fuck!” you quietly yell as your orgasm crashes over you and Aegon chuckles from below.

You pull yourself off of him, and he grabs your hips, pushing you onto your back and climbing on top of you. His smile is smug, and his chin is glistening with your slickness as he kisses you. You hold him close, kissing him desperately as he grinds against you, his cock wet and heavy against your thigh.

“You win,” you breathe, “What’s your prize?”

Aegon hums against your lips, reaching down to sling your leg over his shoulder, before guiding his cock to your entrance. Your lips part as he sinks in, stretching you out in the best way before bottoming out in your tight heat. Aegon presses his forehead against you, resting for a moment, not moving.

“You’re my prize,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Emotion swells in your chest at his words, and he rolls his hips against you. Sparks of pleasure dance through your abdomen, trickling down your legs and up your spine.

It’s slow and sweet, every roll of his hips carefully calculated like he’s trying to feel every inch of you. The pressure in your gut builds with every thrust and Aegon brushes some sweat from your forehead. You tremble, from pleasure and the emotions of lovemaking.

Lovemaking.

That’s what it feels like, as he looks into your eyes, as you hold his neck in one hand and claw at his lower back with the other. This feels like love. This feels like love. Your breathing turns to gasps as Aegon brings his hand between you, rubbing your clit.

“Aegon,” you whimper. I love you.

“I know baby,” he answers, but you don’t say anything except his name.

“Aegon,” you whimper again, fighting tears as he buries his face in your shoulder.

You slide your leg off of his shoulder, wrapping it around his waist, keeping him deep inside of you as you cum for the third time. Aegon’s hips stutter as he finds his release as well, staying inside you a moment more, kissing your lips again.

He lays on top of you, nearly crushing you not that you mind. You want him to never move, just stay on top of you like your own personal weighted blanket.

“Stay,” he murmurs, kissing your lips softly as he wraps his arms around you, holding your tightly against his chest, “Stay, just for a little bit.”

You should head back to Helaena’s room. It’s already too risky, hooking up with Aegon right down the hall from her. You’d pushed your luck already. You sigh contentedly, nuzzling against his chest.

“Just for a little bit,” you agree, eyelids fluttering shut.

“Egg, you need to get up and-”

Your eyes fly open and you sit up, coming face to face with Helaena who has just walked into Aegon’s room. Aegon sits up, getting tangled in the sheets, falling to the floor with a loud thump. You’d fallen asleep. Shit. Shitshitshit.

She’s already dressed for the funeral, wearing a black dress with buttons down the front and on the short sleeves. They shimmer in the light like the eyes of a spider. Her hair is pulled back, out of her face in a low ponytail at the base of her skull. Helaena’s eyes are wide, but there’s something behind them. A confirmation. Like she had a feeling but couldn’t put a finger on what it was.

“Wait,” you call, getting out of bed, leaving Aegon groaning from the floor. You chase after Helaena, “Hel-”

She turns to face you, lips firmly pressed together.

“No,” she says firmly, “No, not your fault.”

You shake your head.

“But it is-”

“No it's his,” she spits the words like venom, “This is what he does, Y/N.”

Tears fill your eyes.

“I know,” you tell her, “And I’m so sorry- but Hel, he’s chang-”

“Don’t,” she says, “Don’t worry, I’ll handle this.”

“Hel please,” you beg, reaching for her arm. She pulls away, not meeting your eyes. “Get dressed. The family is going first but Harwin will be around to drive you. He’ll be waiting out front.” She hurries away after that, walking down the hall and out of sight.

“Y/N?” Aegon calls from the doorway of his room. He’d thrown on sweats to make himself somewhat decent.

“Oh god,” you breathe, “Oh fuck what do I do?”

“It’s okay,” Aegon says, coming up and placing his arms around you, pulling you into a hug, “I’ll talk to her, it’ll be alright.”

Tears fall, beginning to drip onto his shoulder as he strokes the back of your head as you continue to cry. You can’t ruin your friendship with Helaena. But you can’t ruin your relationship with Aegon either. Is it even a relationship? Your mind drifts to the previous night but you shove away the thoughts as you push away from him.

“We have to get dressed,” you tell him, wiping your face, “I’ll see you there, okay?”

Aegon watches you carefully but nods. You press a kiss to his cheek before heading back to Helaena’s room, and shutting the door.

After getting ready, you watch out the window as the family gets into their cars, and a gentle rain begins.

The family rides in two black Cadillacs. Rhaenyra rides with Alicent, while Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron ride separately with each other.

Helaena punches Aegon in the nose when the doors close.

“Ouch!” Aegon yells as Helaena continues raining fists upon her elder brother.

“You stupid, man-whore!” she yells, as Aemond grabs her forearms dragging her into the back seats of the car, “Couldn’t keep your sad dick away from her, could you?”

Aegon pinches the bridge of his nose, mouth open in a mixture of pain and shock. Aemond still holds a squirming Helaena as the door opens once more and Daeron slides in. His eyes are wide, a confused expression on his face.

“What happened?”

“Hel’s mental!” Aegon says, his voice coming out strained from his nose being blocked.

“She’s my best friend!” Helaena yells as the car begins to move. Cole is used to their antics and barely glances up to check on them in the rearview mirror. “My best friend Aegon. And I told you, I told you to leave her alone!”

“I know!” Aegon says, patting his nose. There’s no blood, luckily. “Fuck you could’ve broken my nose!”

“You asshole!” she yells, eyes wide, her voice shrill, “Why? Why did you sleep with her?”

“She knows?” Aemond asks, glancing at Aegon. Helaena’s head snaps toward him.

“You knew?” she asks, breathing heavily, eyebrows knitting together, “Wait, how do you know?”

Aemond, sensing he’s made a mistake, shuts his mouth.

“How do you know, Aemond?” Helaena repeats.

“I don’t know,” Aemond says quickly.

“Nice job genius,” Aegon says, shaking his head.

“Last night….wasn’t the first time?” Helaena asks. Aegon and Aemond share a look but say nothing.

Helaena punches Aemond on the shoulder, hard. He winces, letting out a yelp, and putting up his hands to defend himself.

“It wasn’t one time?? You didn’t tell me!?” Helaena accuses, as Daeron reaches back to stop her. Helaena glares at him, “Did you know too?”

“I don’t know what’s going on!” Daeron yells, “Stop hitting!”

“Assholes! All of you!” Helaena shouts, deciding to focus her anger on Aegon again.

She reaches for him, clawing at his arm as he pushes himself away, pressing against the window of the car. He swats at her hands, slapping them away from him, and begins to laugh, kicking his feet at her.

“I’m going to kill you!”

“Hel stop!”

The car comes to a harsh stop and Criston throws the car in park, leaning to look back at them.

“Alright enough!” he says, and the siblings stop quarreling, “Look….I know this is a hard day for you….but you can’t kill each other right now! Can you keep it together? For one afternoon?”

Four pairs of lilac eyes watch him. Criston sighs dramatically, knowing he’s asking for too much.

“He start-” Helaena begins.

“I don’t care,” Criston says, “Put it on pause. Please.”

Helaena lets out an annoyed huff, fixing her hair. Aegon sucks his teeth loudly before clicking his tongue, earning a glare from Aemond. Daeron still wears a confused expression on his face. Criston exits the car and opens the door for the siblings. Daeron pops out first, followed by Aemond.

As Aegon moves to exit next, Helaena grabs his shoulder stopping him. Aegon meets her eyes. They’ve often been referred to as twins, born almost exactly a year apart. Aegon never understood beyond that how they were alike- he always thought it was Aemond who Helaena shared that sibling connection with. But Alicent always insisted that it was Aegon and Helaena who were more alike than either cared to admit.

Helaena wears her fury unmasked, written all over her face. Perhaps that’s part of it. Aegon and Helaena cannot hide their emotions as Aemond or Daeron can. They feel and show everything deeply.

“You end things, and you end them today,” Helaena says solemnly.

“I can’t Hel,” Aegon says, his nose still aching. He hopes she doesn’t decide to punch him again, if she does she’ll definitely draw blood this time.

Helaena grimaces.

“Yes you can,” she tells him, “You can have any girl you want. Not her.”

“I only want her,” Aegon insists, “Hel I lo…I really care about her.”

“You’re going to hurt her. You are. It’s what you do,” she tells him.

People have said that to him before, but it never cuts as deep when they say it. But Alicent, or Helaena…their words have meaning. Aegon feels the cut of every word she speaks, slicing through him like he’s made of butter. It's physically painful and cracks his jaw to disguise the trembling of his lower lip.

“I’m not like that anymore,” Aegon says softly, “You know that.”

“I don’t trust you,” she hisses, “Not with her.”

“Tough shit,” he snaps and Helaena tilts her head, a warning look in her eye, “Look, I’m sorry Hel. I didn’t think this would happen, but it did. And she cares about me too.”

“Fuck off,” Helaena says loudly, “I know you. I know you.” She holds his gaze until Aegon forces himself to look away.

“Hel I’m sorry,” Aegon says softly, still not looking at her. He exits the car, turning to face her. “I really care about her. I’m not going to hurt her. And I know you don’t trust me, and I get it. You have every reason to but….” he trails off.

Helaena exits the car, and Criston holds an umbrella over the siblings as the rain picks up. She watches Aegon, watches as he struggles to find the words.

“Let’s go,” Helaena says softly. This is a conversation that needs to be saved for later.

She swallows her anger, takes her brother’s hand, and leads him into Sept.

Harwin drove you to the sept, where you stayed in the back with others attending the funeral. You kept your eyes on Helaena and Aegon but gave them their space. Thankfully, the rain had let up for the graveside service and the lowering of Viserys’ casket.

The air was cold as you stood to the side, pressing your hands deeper into the pockets of your coat. The family stands silently together, the tension palpable between Rhaenyra and her half-siblings.

Aegon sniffles, silent tears running down his cheeks. Helaena looks at him, eyes falling on his shaky hands. He’s picked his cuticles again, they’re red and raw like Alicent’s. Mother and son are mirrors of each other.

Aegon is Alicent’s twin in many ways. They share the same large eyes and soft jawline not afforded to her other children. Even their lips are the same, the cupid’s bow waiting to be kissed.

Alicent stands beside him, hands clasped in front of her inside a pair of silk black gloves. Aegon doesn’t hide his pain, he wears it like a badge of armor.

Helaena’s eyes flicker to where you stand, meeting yours for the first time this afternoon before she breaks from her family line to approach you. Alicent’s eyes follow her. You raise your gaze from the ground as she stands in front of you, her lavender eyes watery. She holds out her hand.

Your lower lip trembles, but you take it as she guides you to where her family stands. Brings you next to Aegon.

Replaces her hand with his.

You meet her eyes again, understanding. Helaena presses her lips in a tight smile, before shifting her gaze to her elder brother. Aegon is watching her, his lower lip quivering and fresh tears painting his cherubic cheeks. Helaena reaches up, brushing her thumb against his cheek and wiping away the tear. Aegon’s shoulders slack at her touch and she hugs him, pressing her face against his shoulder.

Aegon holds her tightly with one arm, still holding your hand with the other. Helaena whispers something to him you can’t make out, but you watch a smile twitch on the corner of his mouth as he nods at whatever she says.

You stand sandwiched between them for the rest of the service, and at some point, Helaena grabs your hand to hold as well.

note: screaming, crying, throwing up MY BABIES!!!

Thin Ice Tag List:

@padfooteyes, @nina2697, @julieeba, @darkenchantress, @heavenly1927, @fan-goddess, @possiblyafangirl, @n4tforlife, @serving-targaryen-realness, @bubblyabs, @cicaspair418, @jamespotterismydaddy, @tssf-imagines, @platonichug, @tosiaf, @skikikikiikhhjuuh, @rwdkarla, @partypoison00 @moira-strangle-me-please @clairacassidy, @sh4dowrav3n, @okfashionista, @kravitzwhore, @queenofshinigamis, @misspendragon, @marytargaryen, @dope-trope-105, @imarimon, @whoisalexa, @oneeyedvisenya, @valeskafics, @aemondsmoon, @doublesparrows, @namelesslosers, @fidelias @imarimon @trifoliumviridi, @bellstwd @elle4404 @schmexie @sahvlren @clairepotter, @m1ndbrand

bold means I could not tag for some reason!

drop a comment to be added to this series taglist

483 notes · View notes

stormborns · 8 months

Photo

GAME OF THRONES 1.10, Fire and Blood

#gotedit #gameofthronesedit #housestarkedit #catelynstarkedit #robbstarkedit #game of thrones #house stark #catelyn stark #robb stark #show: got #show: s1 #h: house stark #p: catelyn robb #*mine

1K notes · View notes

gameofthronesdaily · 2 years

Photo

#same energy

#gotedit #hotdedit #arya stark #rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon #game of thrones #hotd #h s1 #got #s3 #g #by mali #blood tw #blood cw

112 notes · View notes

elryuse · 14 days

Note

yandere stepsister Yeseo?

Forbidden Boundaries

YANDERE STEPSISTER YESEO X MALE READER

Yeseo clutched the worn teddy bear tighter, its fur damp with silent tears. Her brother, her only solace after their mother's passing, was a memory kept alive by that threadbare friend. Now, even that comfort was threatened. Her father, a man shrunk by grief, announced he was getting married. Relief battled with a cold, venomous fury in Yeseo's gut. Relief because Dad wouldn't be alone, fury because it meant sharing him, sharing everything. Especially when she found out her new step-family included a son.

Y/n. Broad-shouldered with a mop of black hair that perpetually seemed to fall across his forehead, he had eyes the color of storm clouds. Unsettlingly familiar yet undeniably foreign, they held a depth Yeseo couldn't quite decipher. He offered a hesitant smile, the kind that belonged on a nervous puppy, not the annoying boy who now claimed half her house.

"H-hi," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Yeseo scoffed, refusing to acknowledge him. The traitorous warmth that bloomed in her chest was a betrayal to her brother's memory. He wouldn't want her sharing their space, their life, with anyone. Yet, a twisted part of her couldn't deny the strange pull towards Y/n, a feeling that intensified with every stolen glance over the following weeks.

The animosity simmered, expressed in barbed comments from Yeseo and awkward silences at the dinner table. But fate, with a cruel sense of humor, threw them together one stormy night. Teenage angst and a dare fuelled by boredom led Yeseo out into the downpour. One careless turn, a screech of tires, and then…nothing.

She woke to the sterile white of a hospital room, the rhythmic beep of a machine a harsh counterpoint to the dull ache in her head. A hand, warm and surprisingly calloused, held hers. It was Y/n, his own face bruised and scraped, his eyes reflecting a concern that sent a tremor through Yeseo. Shame burned in her gut for her initial animosity.

"H-hey," he croaked, his voice hoarse. "You scared the living shit out of me."

Yeseo wanted to scoff, to maintain her facade of indifference. But the words wouldn't come. Instead, she squeezed his hand, a silent apology. That small gesture became a bridge, their unspoken connection strengthening with each shared secret whispered in the dead of night.

Years flew by, marked by stolen glances across the breakfast table and late-night talks under a tapestry of stars. Y/n matured, his once-gawky frame hardening into that of a man, and Yeseo found herself drawn to him with a fierceness that both scared and excited her. One day, as she peeked out the window, she saw him. Laughing, carefree, with a girl with sunshine-colored hair hanging onto his arm.

A white-hot rage flooded Yeseo's veins. This wasn't supposed to happen. Y/n wasn't supposed to find anyone else. He understood her darkness, the shadows that clung to her like a second skin. He belonged to her.

When he returned home, a lovestruck grin plastered on his face, Yeseo was waiting. Her own smile was a stark contrast, cold and predatory. "Where were you?" she hissed, her voice low and dangerous.

Y/n froze, the smile dropping from his face like a discarded mask. "Just…hanging out with Sarah," he stammered, a flicker of unease crossing his features.

"Sarah?" Yeseo spat the name, the sound dripping with venom. "Let me think.. Hmm.. Isn't that what people call a date?" She snatched a nearby jump rope, its rough fibers sending chills down Y/n's spine.

Panic flared in his eyes, but before he could speak, the lights flickered and died, plunging the room into darkness. It was either a cruel twist of fate or perhaps a carefully orchestrated plan of Yeseo's.

Hours crawled by, measured only by the rasp of Yeseo's voice, laced with a possessiveness that made Y/n want to run. Every denial, every mention of Sarah, fueled her torment. The room reeked of burnt sugar – a makeshift candle fashioned from spilled wine – and the stifling weight of fear.

"She doesn't understand you," Yeseo hissed, her voice barely a whisper in the darkness. "She can't see the real you, the broken you, like I can."

Tears pricked at Y/n's eyes. He choked out a desperate plea, "Yeseo, please…this isn't love. This is…crazy. You're my stepsister."

A strangled sob escaped Yeseo's lips. "Maybe it is. But it's all I have left."

Finally, his voice, choked and ...cracked with despair. "You can't lock me up here forever, Yeseo. My parents will be worried sick."

The flickering candlelight danced across his face, revealing a mix of terror and defiance that ignited a flicker of something akin to pity in Yeseo's heart. But it was quickly extinguished by the possessive fire burning brighter. "They don't understand you," she countered, her voice softer now, a dangerous kind of sweet. "They can't understand the darkness that lives inside you. Only I can."

Y/n scoffed, the sound harsh in the confined space. "Darkness? That's your darkness, Yeseo. Not mine."

His words struck a raw nerve, and a tremor ran through her. But before she could retort, a distant rumble of thunder echoed through the night, followed by a sudden flash of lightning that illuminated the room for a brief, shocking moment. In that split second, Y/n saw the desperation in her eyes, the deep well of loneliness that mirrored his own. It was a fleeting glimpse, overshadowed by the possessiveness that returned just as quickly as the darkness.

Days bled into nights, punctuated by interrogations, forced confessions, and a chilling intimacy that repulsed Y/n as much as it terrified him. He tried reasoning with Yeseo, appealing to the memories they shared, the moments of genuine connection. But it was like speaking to a wall. Her mind was consumed by a twisted sense of ownership, fueled by her grief and fear of abandonment.

One morning, he woke up to a strange stillness. The makeshift candle had burned itself out, leaving the room in complete darkness. He called out for Yeseo, a tremor in his voice, but there was no answer. Panic surged through him as he realized he was still bound by the jump rope. He strained against the rough fibers, his heart pounding in his chest.

Suddenly, a soft glow appeared at the doorway. Yeseo stood there, her silhouette framed by the faint light filtering through the hallway. In her hand, she held a cell phone, the screen displaying a picture of Sarah, smiling brightly.

"Look at her," Yeseo said, her voice devoid of emotion. "So carefree, so innocent. Doesn't she deserve someone who can be normal? Someone who isn't…broken?"

Y/n's breath hitched. He realized with a horrifying certainty what Yeseo was planning. "No, Yeseo, please," he croaked. "Don't hurt her."

A chilling smile played on Yeseo's lips. "This isn't about hurting her," she said, her voice a mere whisper. "It's about protecting you. Protecting you from her, from forgetting me."

Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes. He knew there was no reasoning with her in this state. He had to escape. With a desperate surge of strength, he yanked on the jump rope, the coarse fibers digging into his wrists. To his surprise, it snapped, frayed from days of use.

Yeseo's smile faltered for a moment, then hardened back into a mask of cold fury. She lunged for him, but he scrambled back, adrenaline fueling his movements. He stumbled towards the doorway, his eyes adjusting to the dim light.

"You'll regret this!" Yeseo screamed behind him.

Y/n didn't dare look back. He burst out of the room and raced down the hallway, his bare feet slapping against the cold floor. He reached the front door, his hands shaking as he fumbled with the lock. Finally, it clicked, and he flung the door open, escaping into the cool night air.

He didn't stop running until his lungs burned and his legs threatened to give out. He found himself in a park, panting heavily, the familiar scent of wet grass and blooming night jasmine filling his nostrils.

Looking back, he realized he had no phone, no wallet, no plan. All he had was the memory of Yeseo's twisted love and the chilling realization that he might never be free of her darkness. As dawn painted the sky with streaks of pink and orange, Y/n curled up under a park bench, the weight of his ordeal crushing him. He had escaped Yeseo's prison, but the scars she had left on his soul would take a lifetime to heal.

Despite the exhaustion gnawing at him, Y/n couldn't stay hidden. The image of Sarah, vulnerable and alone, fueled a surge of determination. He had to get to her, warn her. Stealing back into the house, the adrenaline rush from escape fading, was replaced by a chilling dread. The silence of the house was deafening. Had Yeseo followed him?

He found his phone on the kitchen counter, a cruel taunt. He dialed Sarah's number, praying she'd pick up. The first ring was met with silence, then her sleepy voice. Relief washed over him.

"Sarah, listen to me carefully," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Don't come here, don't come near this house. There's…danger."

He heard the confusion in her voice, but then, thankfully, understanding. "Y/n? What's going on? Where are you?"

He couldn't explain everything, not over the phone. He mumbled a lie, about being out late with friends, and promised to call her properly in the morning. Hanging up, a sense of despair settled over him. He'd protected Sarah, but what awaited him back in the room?

The climb back to his prison felt like an eternity. As he approached the door, he braced himself for the confrontation. But the room was empty. Relief turned to apprehension. Where had Yeseo gone?

He found his answer on the bedside table – a single white rose, its thorn pricked with a single drop of blood. It was a chilling message, a promise. Yeseo wouldn't let him go, not entirely.

Days turned into weeks, then months. Sarah, worried at his sudden distance, grew distant herself. Y/n knew he had to explain, but the fear of Yeseo's wrath kept him silent. He became a prisoner in his own right, living a double life – the happy friend with Sarah, the terrified captive with Yeseo.

One night, Yeseo returned from wherever she disappeared to, a glint of triumph in her eyes. She held up a newspaper clipping – a picture of Sarah, smiling brightly, next to a man with his arm around her. The caption read: "Local Artist Sarah Finds Love."

Yeseo watched his reaction, a predator gauging its prey. She expected a jealous outburst, a fight for freedom. But Y/n surprised himself. He felt…relief. He was genuinely happy for Sarah.

Yeseo's smile faltered. Perhaps she'd expected a different reaction. Instead, she saw a quiet acceptance in his eyes, a resignation bordering on despair.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other. Then, Yeseo spoke, her voice a chilling whisper that sent shivers down Y/n's spine. "So, you finally figured it out, didn't you? Sarah doesn't see the real you. She doesn't understand the darkness that lives inside you, the darkness that only I can love."

Y/n swallowed hard, her words a painful echo of the justifications she'd woven in his mind for weeks. "Maybe you're right," he choked out. "Maybe I need someone who…understands."

Yeseo's smile returned, but it didn't reach her eyes. It was a smile laced with victory, but also a hint of something else – a flicker of doubt. "But what about her? What about your precious Sarah?"

Y/n looked down at his calloused hands, the guilt of his deception a heavy weight in his chest. "I'll…tell her the truth. It won't be easy, but it's the right thing to do."

A guttural laugh erupted from Yeseo, devoid of humor and full of a chilling possessiveness. "The right thing, huh? Don't be a fool, Y/n. You won't tell her a thing. You won't risk losing me, not after everything you've seen."

He looked up, meeting her gaze with a newfound resolve. "Maybe you're right again. Maybe I won't tell her everything. But I will see her. I won't be your prisoner anymore, Yeseo. I'll see Sarah, live my life…as long as you let me."

Yeseo's eyes narrowed, the playful glint extinguished by a cold fury. She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous hiss. "Don't test me, Y/n. You know what I'm capable of. You wouldn't want me to…hurt her, would you? Or maybe even you yourself?"

Y/n stood his ground, the fear a dull ache in his chest. "I know what you're capable of," he said, his voice surprisingly steady.

Y/n's heart hammered against his ribs as he watched Yeseo pack a duffel bag with frantic energy. The air crackled with a manic excitement that sent shivers down his spine. "Where are we going?" he croaked, his voice barely a whisper.

Yeseo, clad in a sleek black dress, her eyes gleaming with a feverish light, turned to him. "Away," she said, a single, chilling word. "To a place where they can't find us. Where our love can finally bloom."

Panic bloomed in Y/n's chest. He'd hoped for a compromise, a way to appease Yeseo while maintaining some semblance of normalcy with Sarah. But this…this was a nightmare unfolding.

"No, Yeseo, we can't just leave. What about Sarah?" he pleaded, desperation lacing his voice.

A cruel smile twisted Yeseo's lips. "Sarah? She'll forget you eventually. The heart wants what it wants, Y/n, and it wants you. With me."

Before Y/n could protest further, Yeseo grabbed his hand, her grip surprisingly strong. She dragged him out of the house, the world blurring into a kaleidoscope of fear and dread. He stole a final glance back, a silent apology hanging in the air for the love he was leaving behind.

Weeks bled into months. Yeseo had orchestrated a meticulously planned elopement, whisking him away to a secluded island off the coast of Thailand. They lived in a luxurious penthouse overlooking the turquoise water, a stark contrast to the prison it felt like.

Yeseo, initially clingy and possessive, gradually settled into a semblance of normalcy. But for Y/n, normalcy was a distant dream. Every stolen glance at his phone, every suppressed urge to contact Sarah, was a constant reminder of his stolen life.

Meanwhile, Sarah's world had crumbled. Y/n's disappearance was a cruel puzzle with no missing piece. Days turned into weeks, then months, filled with frantic searches and dead ends. The police, initially helpful, grew dismissive as time passed. Yeseo had covered her tracks well.

One scorching afternoon, Yeseo returned from a shopping spree, a triumphant glint in her eyes. She tossed a magazine onto the plush living room couch, the cover emblazoned with a picture of Sarah, a haunting sadness in her eyes.

"Look," Yeseo said, her voice laced with a cruel satisfaction. "Seems your precious Sarah has moved on. Found someone new."

Y/n snatched the magazine, his heart clenching at the sight of Sarah's downcast expression. The article spoke of a new relationship, a feeble attempt to mend a broken heart. A wave of guilt washed over him, a suffocating weight that threatened to consume him.

He looked up at Yeseo, her face a mask of triumph. In that moment, a cold resolve solidified within him. He would never win her love, but he wouldn't be her prisoner any longer.

As Yeseo busied herself in the kitchen, Y/n grabbed his phone, his fingers trembling as he dialed a familiar number. The phone rang once, twice, then Sarah's voice, laced with a weary hope, filled his ears.

"Hello?"

Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes, blurring his vision. He couldn't tell her everything, not yet. But he had to start somewhere.

"Sarah," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "It's me…Y/n."

On the other end of the line, a startled gasp escaped Sarah's lips. Then, a stunned silence hung heavy in the air.

Y/n took a deep breath. He had a long story to tell, a story of a twisted love and a desperate escape. But for the first time since his abduction, a flicker of hope ignited within him. He might be trapped in a gilded cage, but he wouldn't let the bars silence him forever. The fight for his freedom, and perhaps even his love, had just begun, unbeknownst to Yeseo, who stood mere feet away, a cruel smile playing on her lips as she listened to the muffled conversation, the taste of victory already bitter on her tongue.

#yeseo #kang yeseo #kep1er yeseo #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #yandere #yandere roleplay #yandere x reader #yandere blog

99 notes · View notes

friendship-ditch · 4 months

Text

Flowers in her Hair

(Katniss Everdeen x Fem Reader) ❀

Summary: After Katniss has a bad nightmare, you take her out for a little walk.

Warnings: None—pure fluff w/ a little bit of angst/comfort.

Word Count: 2281

Finding Katniss curled into a fragile ball in the corner of the bathroom, or weeping beside you in the darkness of your bedroom after a nightmare wasn’t an uncommon sight. In fact, she had a nightmare almost every night no matter what had succeeded beforehand or what time the two of you went to bed.

Some were a lot worse than others.

Sometimes it was just a gentle hand clasping at your shirt and panicked breathing, and sometimes it was screams of pain that echoed through the many halls of the house.

You were always there to comfort her, though, whether by a cup of tea or soothing words.

“Shh, shh… you’re alright.” You breathed softly into her hair, lungs inhaling and exhaling at a much slower pace than hers. You gently raked your fingers through her sweat soaked hair, tucking her teary face into the crook of your neck.

Katniss trembled in your embrace. Her heart raced so loud you could hear it. Her bitten nails were gripping your shirt like a lifeline and broken sobs escaped her broken lips.

No matter how bad the nightmare or the cause, the two of you always ended up in this position. She would curl up into your arms like a child scared of a storm, and you would cradle and rock her as such until her sobs soothed to whimpers.

“I’m here.” You murmured in the same tone. You felt her tighten her grip on your shirt so you hugged her a bit closer. “You’re safe..”

Katniss shook her head. Her tears had soaked your skin and weren’t stopping anytime soon. “I’m not… I’m not… Snow..”

“Snow is dead.” You whispered soothingly. While one hand rested still on the back of her head, the other rubbed in circles on her back. “He can’t hurt you.”

Katniss shuddered. “Y-you don’t know he’s dead.” She blubbered, voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t kill him…”

“The crowd and his own blood did.” You said. “I was there… I saw it. He’s gone, love, I promise you.”

This exchange was one of the most common ones. While it didn’t get any easier for the both of you, it was one you knew how to handle.

“Snow is gone, and you’re safe.”

Your words finally managed to break Katniss’s nightmarish haze as she let out a sigh of relief. She was still shaking and whimpering, but the tears were silent.

After the worst nightmares, Katniss would sometimes break free from your arms and run to the bathroom in an attempt to keep her sick inside the toilet bowl and not the floor. She’d spend a while there and you’d leave her alone for a moment to collect herself, then come and coax her back to bed.

That happened once more. You’d brought her out of bed and down to the kitchen to make some tea when you heard her feet smack onto the ground as she made a beeline for the bathroom.

You set the tea to brew and then crept into the bathroom.

Katniss was bent over the bowl, now silent. She’d made a pathetic attempt to tie her hair back and was gasping for air. She flinched when the door opened.

“It’s just me.” You murmured. You grabbed a rag and ran it under some cold water and then bent behind her. “Are you done?”

She weakly nodded, still panting.

With a gentle hand, you rested your palm on the side of her face and tilted her so she was looking at you.

Katniss, while always beautiful, had certainly looked… better.

Dark circles pooled beneath her eyes, a sharp contrast to her stark pale skin. She hadn’t made it through a full night without waking in weeks and it was really catching up to her. Her lips were raw and cracked from her bad habit of chewing and picking at them and her nails suffered the same story. Sweat beaded on her forehead and soaked the rim of her shirt. Tears glistened on her cheeks. There was some drool on her mouth from her bout of nausea and she was trembling once more.

Her sad eyes refused to meet with yours, though she made a soft noise of thanks when you cleaned her face with the cloth, then laid it on the back of her neck.

“Deep breaths.” You murmured, moving your hand to rub circles on her back once more. You knew Katniss was one who preferred to be shown what to do rather than told so you made an effort to breathe loudly. She copied you weakly until her heart slowed down.

You sat and comforted her a few minutes more before kissing her forehead and helping her to her feet.

The two of you made your way back to the kitchen; Katniss taking a seat at the counter and you pouring two cups of herbal tea.

She picked the mug up with quivering hands and lifted it to her mouth, swallowing the warm liquid with relief. The tea was infused with herbs you’d found in the woods to calm her down and it always did the job, plus it helped to ground her from the demons in her mind.

When Katniss had finally gotten herself under control, looked over at you.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with this… every night. You don’t deserve this.”

Another thing about Katniss was that she believed everything was her fault. When it rained when you two were on a walk, she should’ve noticed the clouds sooner. When the oven broke or burnt the food, she should’ve checked the wires or noticed the smell. And when she got a flashback or an anxiety attack… she should’ve handled it better. Everything was her fault, and she didn’t deserve you.

That was the first time you told her that her opinions were bullshit. And it wasn’t the last. Katniss apologized for everything, and every time, you assured her it was nothing to apologize for.

“Katniss…” You sighed and placed your mug down too. “I do this because I love you. I don’t care what I deserve, I want you.” You murmured, resting your hand over her wrist, ignoring the scars over her skin.

She dipped her head, watching the steam raise from her mug. “Y/n..”

“I know what I signed up for, and you’re not going to scare me away just to self sabotage.” You interrupted her before she could continue her spiel of how unworthy she is of you. You gave her wrist a gentle squeeze, followed by a soft, loving smile. “I’m not going to leave you. No matter what.”

Katniss mirrored your smile with teary eyes. She mumbled her own words of affection under her hitching breath and laid her head on your shoulder.

“I don’t think I can go back to sleep.” She whispered. “Not… not right now.”

You nodded. This happened a lot too. Oftentimes the two of you cuddled up in bed or on the couch and you read to her until she dozed off, but you had a different plan.

Sunrise was in about an hour and it was a warm night, so you wanted to try something new with her.

“How about we go for a walk?” You suggested gently, ruffling her hair. “We can pick herbs at the forest's edge and then watch the sunrise.”

Katniss picked her head up. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

The smile on her face brightened and she nodded. “Please.”

A few minutes later, the two of you set out. You’d slid your boots on and grabbed your basket and Katniss grabbed her lightest jacket. She didn’t want to bring her bow so she pocketed a little knife and met you at the door.

You left the house, hand in hand, enjoying the quiet peace of the oncoming dawn. The sky was still purple but yellow and pinks were dancing towards the east. A few brave stars still glimmered up above, the bright moon almost gone beyond the horizon.

“So, we’re looking for some goldenseal and ginger.” You said softly, not wanting to disturb the blanket of tranquility. “I’d like to try to make that ginger cake again, with a little more sugar.” You added with a soft chuckle, remembering the disaster of a pastry you couldn’t even call cake that came out of the oven last week.

Katniss chuckled too. “Alright.”

You both walked to the edge of the woods and split up. The two of you had become familiar enough with the forest surrounding the Victors Village to wander through it alone with ease, so you weren’t scared to part from her. You’d been herb collecting plenty of times, looking for plants to replenish your stock or to sell.

Once you had a hefty amount of roots and bushy green leaves in your basket, you whistled out. The tune was one similar to the Mockingjay Propaganda call, but you’d altered it slightly to give it a new meaning, just for the two of you.

A few seconds later, you heard the whistle in response and followed the sound.

When you found Katniss, she was on her hands and knees, digging up a few more roots. She cut out the best ones with her knife and smiled softly up at you when you came back.

Beside her on the ground were a few primrose plants, roots, leaves and flowers all intact. After you’d planted some of them in front of the house, the two of you made a habit of gently digging up any of the plant that you could and adding it to the garden out back. It was a large collection of beautiful flowers that Katniss turned to when overwhelmed, and although it was a bit much, you didn’t mind at all. It looked almost as beautiful as Katniss when in full bloom.

“Here, we’ll put these in the basket too.” You bent beside her, helping her scoop all of the plants into your basket.

Katniss gave you a grateful smile and nodded.

When the two of you left the woods embrace, the sky was now a light shade of pink. You left your basket on the back doorstep to the house and then took Katniss to the hill overlooking the nearby meadow.

You could see the sun rising in the distance, its golden rays climbing over the hill.

Katniss smiled softly at the view and sat beside you.

“Thank you… for getting me out of the house.” She said softly. “I really needed this. Sometimes the nightmares just… they’re suffocating.”

You nodded solemnly. “I know.” Offering her a sympathetic look, you squeezed her shoulder. “We can do this more often now since it’s getting warmer. You can even try to teach me to hunt again, if you want.”

That drew a laugh out of her.

“Oh, come on, y/n… You wouldn’t hurt a fly.” She cooed affectionately.

You smiled, defeated. “That’s true… I can be your moral support, though.”

“Deal.”

A gentle silence overtook the two of you as you continued to watch the dawnbreak.

You’d begun weaving a crown of daisies and clovers to place overtop Katniss’s head. She’d long gotten rid of the ring of gold from the 74th games, much preferring the natural crowns instead.

Katniss’s head rested in your lap, her fingers mindlessly playing with the fabric of your pants. This was one of the few times she didn’t feel the need to fidget or move. She was content with being still, listening to your soothing voice and watching the sunrise.

“You know… the mockingjay nest out back? The eggs hatched yesterday.” You murmured, finishing up the crown and weaving in the last ends. “They’re still babies but soon they’re going to be pretty loud.”

Katniss smiled, nodding. “How many?”

“Four.” You smiled too. You gently ran your hand down her back, finding the curve of her shoulder and sitting her up. She faced you and you brushed hair out of her eyes, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “I’ve heard if you give them seeds or nuts, they bring you little treasures, like crows.”

“They do?”

“Yep. And they might even stick around.” You gingerly lifted the crown and laid it on top of her head, kissing her nose this time. “I was thinking if they do end up sticking around, we could name them. I think they can actually remember faces too. They even chirp specific tunes they associate with them.”

Katniss blushed at your gentle kiss, intrigued. She lifted a hand to gently touch the crown, then intertwined her fingers with yours.

“You better not train them to come inside.” She warned you with a warm smile. “Buttercup might enjoy the taste of Mockingjay.”

You chuckled. “I won’t. I learned my lesson.”

“Good.”

The two of you smiled at each other and just laughed.

Once the conversation died off, you leaned back against the tree, Katniss resting between your legs, her back against your stomach and head against your chest. She had been stroking your arm and watching the golden sunrise with you, but now she was drowsy and barely hanging in there.

“Someone's sleepy.” You murmured with a gentle tease, hooking your other arm around her. “Maybe we should head back inside.”

“No.” She whined, her voice adorable even though she would protest the thought. “I want to stay here…”

You nodded. “Alright. We can stay.” You assured her gently, just relieved she was getting some rest.

Katniss’s eyes fluttered shut but her lips kept their statue of a smile until she eventually drifted off in your arms. She was safe, with flowers in her hair, love in her heart, and you.

#I gave up on the gif guys what do we think of this format?#it gives me a lot more freedom lol I think I like it #katniss everdeen x reader #the hunger games #catching fire #katniss everdeen #katniss everdeen x fem!reader #katniss everdeen x you #the mockingjay #x reader #nightmare #comfort #fluff

144 notes · View notes

two-white-butterflies · 2 years

Text

you taste like wine | daemon targaryen x reader

Description: Daemon Targaryen was as unpredictable as the wind — his love built cities and his wrath destroyed them. Y/N just learnt to accept the fact that there was both good and bad in him. After all, he’d never harm her — he’d never harm his love, his fantasy and his truth.

Everyone always said that the women in House Tyrell were the thorns — and the men were the roses. Daemon agreed with them — for Y/N Tyrell was all thorn and no rose, she was sharp, manipulative and twice as ambitious. In all truths, Daemon was afraid of Y/N, that’s why he agreed to marry her.

He’s heard whispers of her, how people said that she was a great beauty — a charming little dove. But Daemon knows exactly what kind of person she was. A snake like all of those in Kingslanding that seek to manipulate his brother.

He sees the way her eyes glimmer — how her face glows when she gets what she wants. She was cunning, he had to give that to her. But even she was no match to the Rogue Prince.

“Why is it that you’re always frowning?” she enters his chambers to see him sitting motionlessly in one of the leather chairs. Daemon smirks and stares at her, she was truly beautiful and unmarred by the years.

He stands up, reaching the same height as her. “Frowning? I beg to disagree” he replies while she rolls her eyes. Y/N couldn’t stand him, but only because he was the only one immune to her charms. “Don’t act innocent now, you’re always frowning when I’m around” she chuckles while sitting down on the chair he was previously sitting on.

He turns to look at her, following her with his sharp gaze. “Why would I frown in front of such a beautiful woman?” he jokes while she scoffs. “If I’m such a beauty, why is it that we haven’t had any children yet? Surely, a man like you wouldn’t be able to keep his hands away from me” she states the obvious while he smirks again.

“Maybe that’s the reason I’m frowning all the time, I can’t seem to get my hands on you” he flirts and she rolls her eyes. He was talking shite again. She hardly doubts that he lusts after her — when all he does every day is complain about her existence.

But it was alright, she supposes. After all their children would be nobodies — just Targaryens who had the title “Prince” or “Princess” none of them would ever sit on the throne. It was all useless really — and being his wife was just sad. She should’ve just married one of The Starks or The Harrenhals.

He senses her silence and he scoffs, “What? Don’t believe me?” he interrogates while taking a step towards her. She chuckles loudly — as if she was mocking him. “Please, Daemon — it’s too early for jests” she mocks while he rolls his eyes. He places both his hands on her shoulders, staring ferociously at her (E/C) doe eyes.

“Fucking you would be easy — loving you however?” he spat and she was able to smell his breath — it stunk of ale and wine, he was most definitely drunk. She shoves his hands away from her and he chuckles bitterly, “This behavior is for your whores in Silk Street, not your wife” she scolds while he presses his lips on her.

She melts into his kiss as he slowly pulls away. “And if you were asking me, I’d say that you fancied me too, wife” he smirks.

----

Daemon was always called for war, his brother King Viserys left him for himself to fight the Crab War. The tensions at court have only soared higher, with the birth of Aegon (Alicent’s son) and the birth of Aemon (Daemon and Y/N’s son.)

Everyone seeked to replace Rhaenyra, they favored her younger brother most. Y/N knew that Rhaenyra was more than capable to be queen, but she wasn’t born a man — and to others, it may mean that she would never be enough.

She finishes braiding the Princess’ hair as Aemon coos from the princess’ grasp. “He always know its you” Rhaenyra states while Y/N chuckles. Aemon always loved being at his mother’s side, but she knew that he’d love his father much more.

“I bet he misses his father” she whispers while taking him from his cousin’s hands. “My father should end that war for the better, I fear that the Hightowers have something to do with it” Rhaenyra hushes while Y/N glares at her.

The Hightowers had spies everywhere, “Lower your voice, my princess” she warns while Rhaenyra sighs. She adored Lady Y/N, though sometimes she wishes that her father married her instead. Lady Y/N was made for court — even when she sounds mean, it always comes across as polite.

Rhaenyra knew one thing for sure; she liked Y/N more than Alicent. “I don’t want to be here at court anymore, my lady. You should come with me to Dragonstone — it is much safer there” she offers while Y/N declines her.

“Rhaenyra, I’ve told you about this. Leaving your position at court will only give our enemies more leverage” she explains while Rhaenyra frowns. “Our?” she asks and Y/N nods. “We are the Blacks are we not — but most of all, we are women. Our strength is not given, it is forged” she places a hand on the princess’ shoulders.

----

“You mean to tell me that you won a war purely out of hate?” she exasperates as he nods his head and removes his armor. His ego felt bruised after his brother’s letter, thus he decided to end the war once and for all. Her frown deepens, “And where was all of this hate, two years ago?” she questions and he freezes.

He was scared of her anger — but he was afraid of her love. Her love that could kill him after she realizes he could’ve been home sooner. “I wish to rephrase my previous statement” he pauses and she chuckles. “Ah, you wish to get out of trouble!” she hits him lightly.

“You rascal — do you have any idea how much I worried about you” she hits him again and this time a chuckle escapes from his lips. Her frown goes deeper, “What are you laughing at?” she hits him for the third time as he wraps his arms around her, trapping her in his warm embrace.

“My thorn — I did not win this war out of hate” he explains and she rolls your eyes. “Uhuh, you better explain” she crosses her arms while he presses a kiss on the top of her head. “I won the war out of love — and also because I haven’t made love in two years” he finishes his statement with a joke as she tries her best to not laugh — she was still mad at him.

“And maybe I can make it up to you? If you know what I mean” he winks at her while she rolls her eyes and walks away. “Idiot” she mutters.

pt. 2

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #house tyrell

2K notes · View notes