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naffeclipse · 6 months

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Heya @skizabaa! I'm your Secret Skeleton! I might have gone a bit over the word count minimum, but I had so much fun writing this! Your interests/likes are exactly my jam and I loved crafting this little piece for a cozy and sweet Halloween treat for you! I hope you enjoy some creature Sun and a Y/N who wants a friend!

The Harpy and Hazel Trees

Harpy!Sun & Reader

Word Count: ~3,500 Warnings: N/A

You’re so used to the quiet—birds calling to each other, crying out about the cold, and the buzz of the last insects filling the air with the gentle crunch of leaves underneath your feet, fallen off the hazel trees. Your lone heartbeat pulses within your ears.

The quiet eats away at you in the way a caterpillar gnaws away at a leaf: slowly devoured. And yet, you remain. There’s still more of you left to be eaten. It surprises you every time you think you can’t take another moment of silence, of a lack of another’s voice.

Behind your simple wooden cottage, you kneel. Only a pale brown fence marks your lost lot within the forest for the deer merrily prances over it. Knees sinking down into the moist earth, you tug out the last few weeds crowding your pumpkins though they are only weeds in name. The plants, you’ve learned, hold nutrients that pair well in salads. You won’t have fresh greens for much longer.

Autumn sweeps back as if this was always its home, and you, its guest. Your garden is bursting with foods that make the harvest moon happy and the dreaded months of winter bearable. The late-season sun heats the crown of your head and strokes your hair, but it is not a substitute for a friend.

You toil away, cleaning out weeds, plucking fat cucumbers, and snatching a wide green head of lettuce. You’ll have a wonderful bowl of fresh salad tonight and cook an egg to go with it. Your chickens are still producing well but when the cold of the dying year steps in, the chickens will convert their egg-laying efforts to keeping warm, and you don’t blame them.

These winters are brutal, on body and heart.

You shiver under a cool wind. A gust flips leaves of dill and oregano and you mutter of the cold to no one.

Then a shadow falls over you. You lift your head.

You startle in your garden. Perched on your fence just a few feet away from you is a beast, one with a rather wide grin at that. A harpy. He tilts his disk-like head, a large mouth displaying sharp teeth fit for pulling meat off of bones. Beautiful feathers sway around his face, long and curved, bright as sunshine and exquisite. He holds a rather polite expression; if only you could ignore the sharp teeth.

His wide eyes, the color of cornflowers, hold the intensity of the hawk but soften upon gazing at you. His body is covered in a finer layer of plumage, off-white and yellow, with wings for arms and long claws on the ends of his fingers, though his large, raptor-like feet wield talons that currently balance upon your poor fence. He wears no shirt but an ascot tie of silky ruby around his thin throat. Billowy pants conceal his animalistic legs, stripped in a bright pattern of red and yellow. His wings are gently tucked against his side, hands curled in front of his chest in an almost nervous, shy manner. Radiant feathers of scarlet and gold decorate his wingspan.

You understand immediately that he is beautiful and, perhaps, dangerous.

“Hello, I’m so sorry to drop in like this,” he begins, voice bouncing and cheerful, though a touch strained. “I hope I haven’t startled you.”

You slowly get to your feet, stunned. You clear your throat, afraid of how raspy your voice will be—the only conversations you hold are with the chickens and the goat.

“I don’t usually get company out here,” you begin, though you sound a touch defensive. You clear your throat again. “Are you lost?”

“Lost?” The harpy cocks his head to the other side, feathers swaying like a rooster’s tail. “Oh, well, I’m only lost in that I have yet to find what I’m looking for and that I don’t know what I’m looking for yet, but the most pressing matter, currently, is the oncoming storm.”

He lifts one wing, long fingers nearly hidden under the cloak of gold and scarlet feathers, to point to the sky behind you. Careful to not turn your back on the stranger, you glance in the direction.

The harpy is right. Creeping forward are black, angry clouds. They gather low, pushing through the blue skies like a stain of ash. The storm wasn’t climbing the horizon this morning but swiftly it arrived.

He is being very polite, you muse.

“Oh,” you say, then face the harpy again. You clasp your dirt-covered hands, wishing you had thought to wear your apron so you might make yourself a little more decent. Of course, who could have predicted a visitor? Certainly not you. “Yes. I assume you don’t want to be caught in it? You’ve probably flown a long way here, no doubt.”

“No doubt,” he echoes with a grin that’s still toothy but much less sharp. His eyes upturned, the cornflower color beaming. “Could I trouble you for shelter for the evening? I won’t be in your way and I’ll gladly stay in your chicken coop or wherever won’t disturb you.”

You laugh gently. The harpy waits, his nervous hands returning once more to his chest, feathers rustling.

“Oh no, you’re far too big to stay in the chicken coop. You’ll scare my rooster half to death.” You look at him, resting a hand on your hip, forgetting the dirt caked on it. “No, you’ll come inside and out of the storm. The wind that will come will be fierce.”

“Oh!” The harpy leaps from the fence in a flurry of plumage. You start at the snap of his wings but find yourself gazing up into his towering expression, his smile absolutely delighted. “Thank you, friend! You’re so sweet!”

You look away, coughing once, unsure how to take the title he already bestows upon you. Is it even true? Could it be?

“It’s nothing,” you give.

You bend down and snap a pumpkin from its stem, the bright orange gourd is more than ready to be harvested for its seeds. On second thought, you’ll roast pumpkin seeds and have a stew today. A meal that will honor your harpy guest as much as your little garden can.

“Would you take this into the cottage for me?” you ask, pointing. The harpy is watching you closely, his head ticking with sharp adjustments to his gaze, his alertness unparalleled and fascinating. “I could use a hand for a few other things, too… friend. If you don’t mind.”

You hesitated, but saying it out loud dusts a lightness in your chest.

“Of course!” He kneels and scoops the pumpkin into his feathered arms as if it were a mere trifle, not a fully grown vegetable. His claws carefully cradle the orange shell. “My name is Sun. I am at your service!”

You give your name in return.

It’s been so long since you’ve heard someone call for you, but when Sun says it, you feel a little more alive. A little more real.

“Do you like stew?” you ask, plucking your gathered leafy goods that will wait in the cupboard until tomorrow, and lead the way to the back door of the cottage.

“Stew sounds heavenly compared to what I've been scourging these last few days—bugs and berries and other bitter things!” Sun’s jubilee voice is no less dampened by recounting his horrid meals. “Yes, stew sounds lovely. How might I help you, friend?”

He doesn’t see you smile. You lead him to the door and open it, holding it so that he might duck inside and not fumble the precious pumpkin.

“We’ll need a few spices, celery and potatoes. Help me dig some up.”

* * *

Harpy claws, as it turns out, are great at digging up dirt, though you think he might have put them to better use hunting. Sun is cheerful and he easily takes to work. It’s not glorious, digging up potatoes, but he does it all with a smile on his wide face.

You love his chatter. He sounds like birds trilling and cheeping, talking of the weather and the storm and how he was alone before he ventured into these strange but wonderful woods. He doesn’t tell you what he’s seeking, but he doesn’t seem to know either. A wanderer. A lost soul.

Like you.

People like you often end up here, in this forest. A woodland of spooky, lingering things, full of yellowing trees. Everyone is seeking something. A heart hungers beside the hazels. A person gets lost here, but sometimes, a person gets found.

Taking a much-needed breather from work, you lead Sun to the hazel trees. The leaves are soft and pale as butter and halfway melted, dripping to the ground. You show him the hazelnuts, perfectly round, dark treasures. In fascination, he gazes at the hard, black shells that you easily crack, shuck, and reveal the smooth nut hidden within.

For a while, you two snack on hazelnuts. Sun’s tongue is dark red and licks at his teeth, chewing away. You love the soft crunch, and how nutty the flavor is. In summer, you take what you have left from winter storage to mix with cocoa and sugar then crush into a paste. A treat that is so lovely you tell Sun that you wish he could be here to have a bite when you make it.

His feathers perk at the mention. He looks as if he wants to say something, something you earnestly wait to hear, but he only agrees. It does sound lovely.

You return to work. Sun is a bit quieter, back to his anxious hand curling and feather-ruffling, almost pulling a few from around his wrists, but you don’t ask. He would have told you if he wanted to. Why confine a stranger when he’ll be gone after the storm blows through?

You taste something bitter in the back of your mouth.

He helps you haul in the potatoes, celery, and carrots. Your cottage is small, but it fits him and you just right. You begin bowling the pot, adding in bits of beef you fetched from the wooden barrel where it sat in a brine of water and salt to preserve the meat until you were ready to cook. Then you begin chopping the vegetables. Sun fetches you an onion you had forgotten, and when he returns, his feathers blown against his body due to the picking up wind, he begins asking you questions. So. Many. Questions.

You can hardly pause between them. He’s so intrigued by your every boring answer. There’s very little for you to talk about except for the years you spent here and how long you’ve been alone (you don’t tell him the last part, though he does ask about family, and you simply comment that you have none with a sharp chop of your knife across a deep orange carrot.) He smoothly moves on, tending to the boiling pot and feeding the fire when it needs more logs.

You can’t help but stare. A harpy tending to your stew. You think this must be a dream, a wonderful, heart-breaking dream.

Tossing the ingredients into the heated meat and broth, you and Sun wait, listening to the howl of the wind and fearfully eyeing the flames as the pressure in the air snatches at the flames by reaching down the chimney. You’ll let the fire go out when the evening ends instead of fighting with it all night, but it will get cold. You ask Sun if he’ll be alright.

He taps his chest with a wicked sharp finger and promises that his plumage is more than enough to fight off the chill.

You stir the stew and spoon it into simple wooden bowls. You hand one to Sun. His large, clawed hand easily grasps it. He’s so sweet, so grateful. You sit down beside him at your small kitchen table—there was never a need for a full dining room set, and now you worry it’s too humble. You never expected company.

The stew, however, is heavenly. You’re relieved and immediately warmed by the savory broth and melt-in-your-mouth bites of beef and potatoes. Sun tears into the stew and you give him a second, then a third helping. You almost laugh at how sheepish he appears until he eats once more.

He helps you clean up… You didn’t know what you expected, but certainly not his methodical ability to sweep the floor and scrub the pot.

“Thank you, Sun,” you say softly, handing him the last dish to set high on the shelf. “You’ve been a great help today.”

“It’s the least I could do to repay your generosity.” He faces you after setting the bowl away without any stretching or tip-toeing, unlike you. “You’re so kind and there’s so much for you to do by yourself. I’m amazed you can handle all this work. It would put a whole team of fieldhands to shame.”

“Oh, stop it,” you wave him away, ducking your head to hide your bashfulness. “I put you to work. I do hope you’ll sleep well tonight, despite the storm.”

As if summoned by your mere mention, a clap of thunder reverberates through the air. Your heart quakes in the strength of the ferocious growl. Sun whips his head towards the front door as if expecting the storm to rudely barge in without your invitation.

“It’s a very good thing you stopped here,” you say, breathless.

Sun slowly looks back, his hackles raised, and his cornflower blue eyes fall down. You follow his line of sight to your hand touching his feathered wrist, fingers anxiously curled.

“Oh.” You drop your hand away. “My apologies. Let me get you a comfortable place to rest. I’m afraid I only have one bed.”

“No need to apologize,” Sun says quickly, “Were you concerned for me, friend? That’s alright. Friends can be concerned for each other and there’s no shame in that. I truly don’t mind.”

You nod but don’t meet his gaze.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Friend?”

You stop, looking back at him. You wonder if he intends to leave, but that can’t be right. The storm is descending with a vengeance.

“I need only sit by the hearth. I don’t need beds or other human comforts, though I appreciate your offer.”

“Oh.” You look around, the smell of stew having long since drifted away as the fire slowly begins to die. A thick darkness descends. You regard the harpy with a worry for the morning. Sunshine will come, yes, and the skies will be clearer, but he will leave.

You find yourself dreading tomorrow.

“Very well.” You hold his gaze for one brave moment. The cornflower blue holds you. “Goodnight, Sun.’

“Goodnight, friend.”

You close the door to your bedroom. In quiet reflection, you dress into your night clothes and slip under the quilts on your bed. You are so caught up on Sun’s ruffled feathers, his cheerful demeanor, and how anxious he holds his claws.

He calls you a friend. You’ve only just met. You shouldn’t be so attached to a fellow so quickly, yet, you find yourself wondering how you might combat the silence in the afternoon after the thunder ceased its grumbling and the harpy has continued on his way.

You hardly sleep a wink before the storm splatters rain upon the roof and sends winds to rattle the shutters. A quaking bolt of lightning strikes, the thunderous cry shaking the very cottage and you bolt upright. You cry out, disturbed from dozing, dark dreams.

The very world is being torn apart by a dark tempest.

“Friend!” The shout is muffled through the door, but you hop out of bed, bewildered and frantic, and throw it open to find the harpy.

He stoops low, his height eclipsed by the stout door frame. You stare up into his concerned eyes, long hands almost reaching for you but hesitating.

“I heard you shout. Are you alright?”

You lay a hand over your chest and breathe out. The wild blood pumping in your veins has yet to calm, but the sight of Sun’s cheerful face plumage, swirling about his expression like rays of the sun, and his big blue eyes, looking over you for injury or harm, touches your heart.

“Yes, I’m alright. The lightning—the thunder scared me!”

“It’s alright. It startled me, too,” he gives, though grinning with the energy of a thousand afternoons.

Sun peers through the small window in your bedroom. The lightning flashes again, not so close, but the thunder roars upon the little cottage as if a beast had snatched your home into its mouth.

You shudder to think of lying down now.

You hesitate, contrite, then ask quietly, “Sun?”

He visibly perks up and almost hits his head on the top of the doorway. His golden feathers brush against the ceiling of the cottage.

“Yes?”

“Can I sit with you for a while? If I’m not keeping you awake, that is…”

His expression blooms as if a flower under the sun. He grins, the sight so lovely and tender before he takes your hand in his down-soft palm.

“Of course! There are still hot coals in the hearth, and I do hope I can help you stay warm, just a little.”

You lower your shoulders. A calming pulse moves through your chest as Sun, your friend, guides you into the room with the dying embers that beat a last, desperate red in the sooty black.

“Are you cold?” you ask, concerned.

“No,” his eyes upturn, “If it’s alright, I would like to keep you warm.”

He opens his arms, the plumage of his wings falling like a cloak of ruffled sunshine and scarlet. His chest is fuzzy with soft down, and his billowy pants cross to make a comfortable seat on the floor before the cooling heart.

You want nothing more than to enter his embrace. Worry of the morning strains against your weary thoughts, holding you away.

“Are you sure?”

You only met him today. Why do you feel so much for this blossoming friendship, newly made under the threat of a storm and in the dirt of hard work?

He inclines his head gently, his feathers softly sashaying with reassurance. “Yes. I would be delighted to help my friend.”

His warm confidence chips away at the last of your reservations. Breathing in, you ease yourself into his embrace. Settling into his warm body—you didn’t realize how wonderfully comforting his form is, wrapped around yours, like a drop of sunshine. It immediately chases away the autumn cold nipping at your edges. Once you set your back against his chest, feeling a bit conscious of his presence and how you hold yourself, Sun wraps his arms around your shoulders. His beautiful wings cover you up in the burning colors of sunsets. Outside, the thunder and rain harmonize.

“Is this alright?” he asks.

You nod and hook one hand over his fluffy wrist. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Yes,” you murmur.

It’s nice to have a friend.

You sit a while, gazing at the fire. Sun hums a low, throaty sound that reminds you of birds calling to each other, and you drift quietly. Your head begins to fall. In smooth, careful motions, Sun shifts your legs so they drape sideways off his lap and guide your cheek so it might rest on the soft pillow of his shoulder. His arms fall upon you again. You are blissfully warm, sleep whispering in your ears.

“Friend?” he says. His fingers curl against your arm. An anxious clench.

“Hmmm?” Your eyelids flutter.

“I was thinking—in the morning, you’ll have so many branches to pick up off your garden and you’ll need to check your chickens and see if any of your precious vegetables have been harmed, and you have so much work to do! I could stay a bit longer tomorrow, just to lend a hand, as a final thank you.”

“Sun?”

Your eyes open in the blue dark of the autumn night. Your heart melts quietly in your chest, and you think you might be brave. You dare to want to be bold enough to let him stay with you, beside you.

The harpy titters nervously. “Well, only if that wouldn’t be an inconvenience for you, of course. I don’t want to impose or linger where I’m not wanted—”

“Sun?”

“Oh! Yes?”

You sigh softly and close your eyes.

“Would you like to stay?” You hesitate quietly. Your heart thumps with all the desire of your being. “My friend?”

The beat of silence is devastating. The echo of nothingness deafens your ears and you almost lift your head to see if you cross a boundary or assume too much, but Sun quietly trills.

“If you’ll have me.”

You smile.

“Yes, I will.”

“Then you know my answer, dearest friend.”

You soften in relief, and in Sun’s gentle melody humming in his chest and soothing your very soul, you drift away. In the morning, there will be Sun. For every day after, it will be you two in the cottage.

You and your dearest friend.

#DCAH2023 #harpy!sun #sun & reader #skizabaa #i hope you like it!!!#naff writing #happy halloween

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xorafe · 8 days

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okay so this is my first request ever on here lmao, but i LOVE ur writing and i was thinking about a fic of Rafe and reader inspired by “Pillowtalk” or “Like i would” by zayn. I can’t stop thinking about this man while listening to these songs😫

၊၊||၊၊||၊၊ PILLOWTALK / zayn

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

we’ll go slow and high tempo, light and dark

Fucking Rafe is a mind-blowing blend of fast and slow, of hard and soft, and no matter how many times you do it, you’re enthralled by him and the things his body can do to yours.

He loves to go from slow thrusts to hard thrashes, from cradling your jaw to choking you, showing you just how much he loves you and how much he loves having sex with you at the same time.

i love to hold you close, tonight and always

His favorite positions are the ones where he can wrap his arms around you or have his face close to yours. Rafe thought he was always a guy who simply fucks, but when he meets you, he gets the hype behind the concept of ‘making love.’

Because that’s what it feels like with you. Like he’s using his hands and his mouth and his cock to show you how deeply and sincerely he loves you.

a place that is so pure, so dirty and raw

Things are so simple when he’s inside of you, so perfect and coarse and raw. Both of you forget everything and focus completely on pleasing each other.

When he’s settled between your legs, curving into you, whispering in your ear about how damn good you feel, you’re in another world. It’s your own special place in universe, somewhere only you two are lucky enough to be in.

fucking and fighting on

You fight as hard as you fuck. Sometimes Rafe can’t believe how effortlessly you manage to get on his very last nerve.

He swears you’ll kill him one day, but once the argument gets heated enough that his lips are on yours and your fingers are tangled in his hair and his hands are on your hips, he realizes you also make him feel like you’re giving him the breath to stay alive. He needs you and you need him just as badly.

#this took so long IM SORRY ANGEL #i hope you like it!!!#rafe cameron blurb #blurb #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n

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fyodcrs · 3 months

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Perfect partners ♡

Happy birthday, Kris!!! @kunikiiida-kuuun ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧˚ ♡♡♡♡

#bsdedit #Bungou Stray Dogs #Dazai Osamu #Kunikida Doppo #BSD #Dazai #Kunikida #*edits #HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO YOU KRIS!!!!#I hope you have/had an amazing day!!! I think I might still be off by a day or two of your actual birthday haha #some kunidaz for you!!!#I picked some of my favorite scenes of them 🥰#I hope you like it!!!#BIG BIG HUG!!! 💖💖°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°💖💖

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nessiemccormick · 7 months

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@vivi-ntvg requested a klapollo hug with Klavier being the one behind 🩷 thank you!! ✨

#klapollo #I hope you like it!!!#kofi request

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shuueep · 5 months

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I LOVE THESE DESIGNS SO MUCH ARGH

These belongs to @probablyanalienindisguise

#I hope you like it!!!#prismo #prismo the wishmaster #scarab #scarab the god auditor #fanart

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thighguys · 1 month

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@deqncas this is for you 😘 dnp having a little nap/cuddle on this fine sunday afternoon :)

#i spent my entire church service doodling people sleeping so i could get the positions right on this lol #i hope you like it!!!#dan and phil #dnpg #dnp #dip and pip #phan #dapg #dapgames #phandom #phil lester #dan and phil games #daniel howell #phanart #phan art

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zainmalik · 1 year

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for @sweetlesssunnn for the @secretlarryvalentine exchange

prompt: happy blissful gay valentine’s day

#harrystylesedit #louistomlinsonedit #hledit #hlcreators #hljournal #hlsource #tracksintheam #trackinghome #trackinghappily #myedit #happy valentine's day!!!#i hope you like it!!!#louis tomlinson #harry styles

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agent-darkfest · 3 months

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It is literally 1:30 AM over here…. But it is done!!!

@strawbubbysugar, I do not know if I made it just in time, but here is the gift I was working on for you!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

*passes out Dead*

Also, I am including the Lineart and Grayscale version below the cut line.

——————————

#so(u)l project #so(u)l fanart #Happy Birthday Bubby!!!#I hope you like it!!!

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castiel · 1 year

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you are breathing patiently; it is a beautiful sound ⤷ oxygen - mary oliver || shrecretshranta gif(t) for bri @deanncastiel

#spn #spnedit #destiel #deancas #destieledit #deancasedit #poetryedit #dean winchester #castiel #shrecretshranta #my edits #my gifs #i hope you like it!!!

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sadbeautifulttragic · 6 months

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swiftie halloween gift for @imkindatheman

but if we loved again I swear I'd love you right...

#Taylor swift #taylorswift #tswift #tswiftedit #my edits #swiftiehalloween #gifts #imkindatheman #I hope you like it!!!#def not spooky themed at all lol #but it does involve one of your fave songs and colors and hopefully feels cozy!!#I had so much fun chatting with you and getting to know you <3 #q

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sunshinemage · 11 months

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the city is my church it wraps me in its blinding twilight

___ (lil early) Birthday gift for @impossible-rat-babies 🧡

#I AM TOO IMPATIENT #but ta-daaaaaaaah #happy birthday owen!!#been wanting to draw pollux again for a while now haha #here's the boy u_u #i love him #he's everything #pollux bixby #oc love #things i drew #i'm ridiculously happy about how it turned out #i hope you like it!!!

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feyhunter78 · 1 year

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A part two for the scar on your palm please 🥺 i must know how aemond announces it, the drama the detail all of if i must know!

But really if you do make a part 2 I appreciate your time and effort! It means a lot! Your writing is fantastic!

Lol I got super carried away with this one XD I hope you like it though!!! I'm so happy you wanted a part two!!!! <3

TW: Death, abusive language, reader's father is physically abusive, but it's short

The Scar on Your Palm pt. 2

You stood beside Aemond as he stared but his and your father down.

“Father, Lord y/n, I know there is a betrothal set for Lady y/n, but it cannot be honored.”

Both men looked at him, his father speaking first. “And why is that?”

Aemond held up yours and his scarred palms. “At the age of ten and six, we were married in Valyrian tradition. To force her to marry another would be bigamy.”

Your father’s face was a canvas painted with a multitude of emotions, and his eyes darted to the king.

Aemond dropped your hand, and switched to holding your hand behind your backs, squeezing it to reassure you.

He showed no sign of fear, but you? You were terrified. How were you to know that ceremony was binding? It was all in High Valyrian a language at that time you struggled to grasp. It was not that you did not want to be married to Aemond, but you feared what your father would do.

“You mean to tell me you have married the Lady y/n without anyone’s permission and have merely let us all run around like fools for years searching to find you both matches?” King Viserys said, his eyes hard, his tone less so—sounding almost entertained.

“Yes father. Y/N and I are bound by Valarian tradition, and we have consummated our marriage many times over.” Aemond said, his head held high, voice steady.

Your own head hung in shame, why oh, why did he have to say many times over? It was prudent enough to say their marriage had been consummated and be done with it.

“Y/N is this true?” Your father asked.

You stepped forward, releasing Aemond’s hand and addressing your father. “Yes, it is, and I am so sorry father, I did not know that—”

“You did not know that sullying your virtue with a prince would still make it impossible for you to marry? That binding yourself in some outdated ritual was not an excuse to throw yourself at the nearest man?” His voice was angry and raising in volume.

“Now, Lord y/l/n, there is no need to shout.” King Viserys said calmly.

“Is there no way to undo what they have done? None of this news needs to leave this room, y/n may still be able to salvage her betrothal.” Your father said, turning to the king.

“Y/N is my lady wife, she has been so for years now, there is no undoing of what we have done.” Aemond spoke up, anger just below the surface.

“My son speaks true, Valyrian wedding ceremonies are legally binding.” He turned to Aemond. “Who performed the ceremony?”

“My aunt and your cousin, father, Princess Rhaenys.” Aemond said.

Viserys massaged his temples. “Here I was hoping you had asked Aegon and then perhaps an argument could be made, but Rhaenys would not perform the ceremony with false intentions.”

Your father was livid, and he grabbed your arm, yanking you close. “You have ruined yourself and this family, you stupid girl.” He hissed.

Tears pooled in your eyes. “Father I am so sorry, I was not aware that it was binding, but I love Aemond, and marriage to a prince would be better for the family, think of the benefits.” You pleaded.

Viserys had called Aemond up to the throne and was speaking to him in low tones.

“Benefits? What benefits are there to a broken promise and a whore for a daughter?” Your father sneered, his grip on your arm tightening.

“I know I have disappointed you, but father, you are hurting me.” You tried to pull your arm away, your eyes flickering to Aemond.

Your father grabbed your chin and jerked your head back towards him. “Do not look at him, that son of a Hightower whore, he cannot save you. You must face the consequences of your actions.”

You swallowed hard, fear twisting around your lungs and seizing. “Father, please, not in front of the king, think of what others will say.”

“You have already ensured they will speak.” His hand reared back, and your head snapped to the side with the force of the blow. The sound of his hand slapping against the skin of your cheek echoed throughout the hall, and you kept your eyes down as you braced yourself for the second blow. He hit your other cheek, the strength behind it sending you staggering to the floor.

“Father...I am so sorry.” You choked out, cheeks stinging, vision blurry with tears. You could vaguely hear someone yelling, but there was a ringing in your head that drowned it out.

When no other blow fell you pushed yourself up to see King Viserys struggling to restrain Aemond who was lunging for your father.

“You vile, wicked man, how dare you lay a hand on my wife?” He spat, breaking out of his father’s hold and lunging at your father, his hands wrapping around his neck.

King Viserys called for guards and rushed over to you, helping you to your feet. “Are you alright, Lady y/n?” He asked kindly.

“I did not mean to cause such trouble; I am truly sorry.” You cried, voice trembling, as you brought your hands together, thumb rubbing at your scarred palm.

“No, no, the blame is not yours.” King Viserys reassured you.

The guards finally pulled Aemond from your father and threw him towards you.

Aemond tugged you into his embrace. “Ñuha dōna, are you alright, are you in pain?” His words were rushed, and you could feel him trembling against you.

“My skin stings, but the ringing in my head is quiet now.” You said, burying your face in the crook of his neck, tears dripping onto his tunic.

He rubbed your back soothingly. “Oh my love, my wife, I never should have let go of your hand, forgive me?”

“I forgive you, you had no way of knowing he would harm me, husband.” You said, pressing yourself closer to him as your father began screaming.

“How dare you? I was disciplining my child. It is my right?”

Aemond turned, pushing you behind his back, his arm keeping you close. “Your right? She is my wife. If anyone is to discipline her, it would be me. You lost that right the day we bound our souls together.”

Your father shook his head. “You do not understand, and it seems I was not strict enough with y/n, but daughters need strict discipline, or they will turn out to be whores. You will understand this if you are cursed with your own daughter.”

Aemond’s shoulders tensed, and he stalked forward, leaving you in the company of his father. “My wife is not a whore.” He snarled, grabbing your father by the lapels of his coat. “And you are a fool to think I would ever lay a hand on a child. In fact, you should pray y/n does not bless me with a daughter. For if she does, our girl will be raised the way we see fit, and when she is old enough, I will take her to spit on your grave.”

Your heart fluttered at the way Aemond defended you and your future children, and it skipped several beats when he looked back at you, his hand inching towards his dagger. In a rush of rage and courage, you nodded.

Aemond’s hand moved faster than you could blink, and soon your father was crumbling to the ground, Aemond’s dagger piercing straight through his throat. “Perhaps even our sons will spit on your grave as well.”

You should not have found that attractive, you knew this, but a wild part of you craved your husband, and you rushed to his side.

Your father reached for you, but you ignored him, fretting over Aemond instead. “My love, did they hurt you?”

He cupped your face and kissed your forehead. “No, sweet wife, I am unharmed.”

You sighed in relief and let Aemond lead you out of the hall, his arm linked with yours.

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda

#hotd fanfics #hotd imagine #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #meg's writing #part two!!!#thanks for the request!#I hope you like it!!!#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x female reader #gosh I love bloodthirsty aemond and an equally bloodthirsty reader #it's the best combo #anon request

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lesbianlotties · 6 months

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(for the unrequited/requited prompts) 4 with ronance

omg thank you for asking!! it's been a while since i wrote ronance, i hope i did them justice! send me (not)unrequited love prompts!

Temporary (or not)

Robin Buckley/Nancy Wheeler, 912 words, Not Actually Unrequited Love

According to Nancy, there were many wonderful things about falling in love with Robin Buckley. For starters, the way that Robin’s presence, or just the thought of her, immediately makes everything better. Hawkins was better because Robin was there. The world was more exciting because Robin wanted to explore it all someday. Nancy herself felt like a better, happier person because of Robin’s involvement in her life.

Unfortunately, though, there were a few terrible, terrible things about liking Robin. Starting with the fact that Robin knew Nancy liked her.

It hadn’t happened on purpose. It was just that Nancy had never quite learned how to behave during a high school party, even though the world seemed like it had gone back to normal. She was too drunk, Robin was too kind, too close, and too much of a reminder of the months they grew closer and closer.

“You know? I realized I really like you, Robin. Not like a friend, I mean, more than a friend,” Nancy slurred, happy, even though she was seeing Robin double. Afterward, she wasn’t very sure of what she said. Probably something along the lines of, “It’s weird, isn’t it?” or “I don’t know what to do about it,” or “Oh… I think I’m going to throw up now…”

It was safe to say it didn’t go very well. But she knew it happened. She knew Robin had heard her and that Robin wasn’t drunk enough to forget it. What she also knew was that in the weeks since then, Robin hadn’t changed the way she acted around Nancy at all. They didn’t talk about it, they didn’t drift apart from each other, they didn’t grow closer. Nothing. It was driving Nancy mad. Robin was still a bright light in her life, always striving to make her laugh, soft with her like she wasn’t anyone else, and physically affectionate enough to make Nancy feel like she was going to die because, actually, it wasn’t enough.

Nancy was wise enough not to attempt another high school party that had never ended well for her. Somehow, she was more at home, surrounded by her younger brother and his small crowd of friends, and, of course, with Robin’s arm wrapped around her shoulders. Nancy was trying to be strong but, after some everyday biting retort at Mike, she earned not only Robin’s expected warm laughter, but a proud kiss on the side of her head. Nancy felt herself blush in equal parts affection and frustration.

“Why are you doing this?” Nancy whispered with thinly concealed distress.

“Hm? What?” Robin mumbled.

Instantly, Nancy flinched away from her and stormed out of the basement, up the stairs, all the way up to her bedroom. She knew that Robin would follow, and that was both a comfort and a new source of pain.

“Nancy? What happened?” Robin asked her as soon as she carefully stepped into Nancy’s room behind her, softly closing the door.

Nancy had already told Robin once how she felt about her, she thought she could get through it again, even if sober. She took a deep breath and although her voice broke, she said, “You’re the sweetest person I know, Robin. You’re incapable of being this cruel. So I just need to know why…”

“Nancy, what are you talking about? I would never hurt you, Nancy, I…” Robin gulped, looked desperately around her, and finally said, “What did I do?”

“You know how I feel about you,” Nancy blurted out. Not exactly saying the full truth out loud but, judging by the change in Robin’s expression, it was enough. “You know. I told you. And you didn’t even react! And I just… I don’t expect you to feel the same, okay? I get it. But you didn’t have to… Completely disregard my feelings! Act like it was nothing, like it didn’t matter! I’ll get over you, Robin. I promise. I have to do it, because I can’t… I can’t lose you, even as a friend. This is temporary but… Shit, Robin, you could’ve said something.”

At the end of her speech, Nancy was breathless and lightheaded, leaning one leg against her bed for stability. Robin looked pale and thoroughly shocked.

“I was scared…” Robin whispered.

“How’d you think I felt?”

Robin winced, but pushed through. “I’m sorry,” she said, a little more confidently after clearing her throat. “I was scared you didn’t mean it.” Those words cracked Nancy’s heart open, but she tried to reign in her hope. “I was scared to tell you I felt the same way and then you’d tell me that you were just drunk and it didn’t mean anything,” Robin said with a shaky smile. “I’m sorry I was a coward, you deserved better,” Robin said, her blue eyes opened wide and earnest, stealing Nancy’s breath away. “But… Uh, just in case, let me say I hope those feelings aren’t temporary. I know that mine aren’t. I like you too, I’m crazy about you, Wheeler.”

In the time it took Robin to finish talking, Nancy had closed the distance between them. “Was that so difficult to say?” she asked, with a small smile. She reached out and cradled Robin’s face in her palms. She felt the taller girl instantly sigh and relax.

“Yeah, actually it was terrifying,” Robin chuckled, but she looked too happy to show her usual anxiety. “You could’ve said something earlier too, you know…”

Instead, Nancy interrupted her with a kiss.

#should i post it on ao3? new work or the first kisses multichap?#i hope you like it!!!#ronance #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #robin x nancy #stranger things #st #stranger things fanfic #promtps #answered #annieofhearts #my fic

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