#persephone x hades au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jointherebellion215 · 1 month

Text

Flowers

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x female!reader

Summary: You're living a perfectly content life on Geidi Prime with your husband. It's a shame your mind can't rest, sparked by glimpses of a life unknown. Loosely based on the song from Hadestown.

Word Count: 1.5k

TW: Dark!Feyd-Rautha, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, yandere!Feyd-Rautha, manipulation, gaslighting, like SO much gaslighting holy shit, descriptions of violence, abusive relationship, emotional abuse, isolation, tragedy, nonconsensual drug use, nonconsensual medical treatement, induced memory loss, amnesia, dubious consent, pregnancy, songfic, happy-but-not-really-happy ending, I know I said female!reader but there's virtually no pronoun usage or descriptive words in thisfor the reader besides titles so maybe GN!reader??

A/N: I'm blown away, almost 500 notes on His Kiss, the Riot? Holy shit, all of the thanks! Here it is, the final part! I'm ending it with the song that actually started this whole idea. Listening to Eva's interpretation of Eurydice singing Flowers gave me the most delicious, fucked-up bit of inspiration and this came out. I was clutching my own metaphorical pearls writing this cause damn, this gets dark. Like, way more than I thought I could write. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the end of this twisted tale. Thank you for reading! As always, I appreciate you taking the time to like, comment, and reblog.

Read Part One and Part Two

AO3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dune properties, characters, or storylines-- nor do I own anything related to Hadestown. The images used in this are not my own, and any similarities to stories or events other than what are directly referenced are strictly coincidence.

Lily white and poppy red

I trembled when he laid me out

“You won’t feel a thing,” he said, “when you go down”

Nothing gonna wake you now

Drops of blood.

A wicked, black smile.

“You won’t feel a thing.”

You wake up with a gasp. Your doctor had warned you about dreams like this. They weren’t real, just an aftereffect of your accident.

The medical staff for House Harkonnen had been gracious enough to inform you of your predicament. When your family had recently hosted the Harkonnens, you quickly met and fell deeply in love with the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha. Your love for each other was so intense that you had demanded to get married right away. Your father disapproved of the union, so he disowned you and banished you, demanding to never see you again.

On the journey back to Geidi Prime, a stray asteroid hit the ship and caused you to hit your head. Feyd had apparently worried for your life, which saddened you and warmed your heart. It was nice to know that someone truly cared for you. However, your mind wasn’t quite the same afterwards. Your life before Geidi Prime was completely unknown to you. Your memories were in a fragile state.

That was just a few months earlier. Unfortunately, your mind has not yet recovered your memories prior to the accident. You were diligently taking a specially brewed tea that would calm your mind so it wouldn’t fracture under the immense pressure to try and fix itself. When you asked how long it would take for you to recover, your heart cracked when they said that it may take the rest of your natural life.

While it broke your heart to hear of your father’s dismissal of your feelings, you believed that you were strong enough to carry on. Having no further ties to your home world made it better to settle in with your new family.

You are a Harkonnen now.

Now, your footsteps make the quietest of echoes as you traipse down the narrow corridor. Heads of nearby servants and slaves bow, and eyes snap to the floor as you pass by. You feel the barest of sympathies, for not being allowed the simplest of human connection with their na-Baronness. But it was paradise considering the consequences should anyone ever feel bold enough to try otherwise.

Your husband wouldn’t allow that.

Dreams are sweet, until they’re not

Men are kind, until they aren’t

Flowers bloom, until they rot and fall apart

“Can I not have a single friend on this planet?!”

You burst into your shared chambers, rage rushing through your veins. All you had wanted was to have lunch and tea with one of the few female palace advisors you had taken a liking to. Maybe share a laugh or a story. Make a connection outside of your new family. That was all ruined when Feyd barged in and gutted your companion, stomach-to-throat, while she sat in her chair.

You were sure that your shoes had trailed blood down the hallway, but your mind was focused elsewhere at the moment.

“What use would you have for friends? I am right here.” He closed in on you, grasping your arms and forcing you to look in his direction. “Am I not enough for you? Do I not give you everything you should ever desire?”

His hands tighten around your wrists, making you flinch. A stray tear falls from your eyes, guilt starts to overcome your anger.

“No, not at all, husband! You have given me everything I could have wished for and more,” You wrench your hands out of his grip and grasp his face. He showered you with gifts, never let you go hungry or thirsty and this is how you repay him? “I just… I didn’t think you would want to hear me talk about certain things. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

“I know you don’t, my darling.”

You take a deep breath as you feel the tension in the room start to settle.

“Your mind is already fragile from the accident… I just want to keep you safe.”

Safe. That was the key here. He takes step back and retrieves a small dagger from his belt.

Feyd holds it up, showing you the weapon. “Did you know that your friend had a blade dipped in poison strapped onto her person?”

You can feel the blood rushing from your face. No. You didn’t know.

“I-I didn’t see a knife on her. She couldn’t have-“

“She did.”

He drops the blade and leans in closer to you, forehead aligning with yours. “There are people out there who seek to harm you, who seek to harm me through you. I can never let that happen.”

You nod furiously. You couldn’t believe that you had been so stupid.

Trust is unbelievably hard to come by in the Galactic Imperium. Your few months’ worth of memories can even attest to that. It seems that the only people you can truly rely on is family.

“I only want what’s best for you.”

You understand now.

Is anybody listening?

I open my mouth and nothing comes out

Another argument discussion had emerged from your telling of your latest dream. Your husband was convinced that you were entirely too exhausted to put any stock into what your subconscious was telling you, but you thought otherwise.

Fingers run through a patch of bright pinks, yellows, and blues—

“I swear to you, it felt so real! It was almost like a memory, like something I-,” A firm hand is placed on your shoulder as you give a slight stumble. Feyd puts a hand on your back, leading you to the edge of your bed, setting you on the bench that was placed against the footboard.

“Please, have some of your morning tea, my darling. You look a bit peaked.” You accepted the cup he gave you, settling down and taking a few sips of the warm, spiced drink. Your mind instantly calms, anxieties evaporating from your body like puffs of smoke. Never mind the memories that you had just… Floating.

Your husband is now on one knee in front of you, arms encasing your body, as his hands cup your face. He brings your eyes to meet his, seemingly searching. For what? You do not know.

“What were you saying about this dream of yours?” A pause reverberates throughout the room as your head tilts in confusion.

“My…?” You stutter, mouth opening to complete a thought that was no longer entirely there. “I can’t quite remember. What were we talking about?”

Your husband gives a smirk, analyzing your face once more before placing his hand on the dark fabric covering your swollen belly.

“Nothing of import. It seems that my heir is set on scrambling your thoughts.”

There seemed to be nothing in this world that brought more joy to Feyd-Rautha’s face than the sight of you and his unborn child. He’s more protective of you now than ever, having guards always posted near you, having you wear a shield during all public appearances. Not to mention, he was damn near insatiable in private. His hands and mouth are practically dragged away from you and your growing stomach every morning.

You give a chuckle. “I’d heard about pregnancy brain before, but never knew it to be this taxing! Perhaps I’ll take a walk later if I’m feeling up to it.”

Feyd gives your cheek a soft pat before rising to his feet, “Rest, my darling. I shall check in on the both of you later.” His hand rests next to yours, giving your belly a quick rub before he walks towards the door.

Your head goes to set on your pillow, the warmth from the tea running through your body. You must be really tired, since you fall asleep so quickly.

Quick enough to not hear the deadbolt lock clicking from the outside once the door is closed.

Flowers, I remember field of flowers

Soft beneath my heels

Walking in the sun, I remember someone

Someone by my side, turned his face to mine

The dreams start to encroach your mind while you are awake. You continue to follow your doctor’s instructions: take your daily tea, rest often, don’t overexert your body or your mind. But, ever persistent, they push through, finding parallels with your daily life to latch onto.

A hand, gently enlaced with yours, guides you through a meadow—

You husband’s hands lead you to stand with him by his uncle’s side, preparing for another ceremony.

A laugh, familiar and warm—

A chilling cackle of laughter reaches you in your viewing box, watching your husband gleefully slay another adversary in the arena.

Bright, yellow sunlight caressing your face and neck—

The black sun of Geidi Prime pulses in your periphery as you wave to a crowd below, your husband standing stoically next to you.

A kiss, given freely—

Feyd ravishes you in your chambers, lips melding together with yours.

My darling—

My love—

My darling—

“Is everything alright, my darling?”

You blink, snapping back to the present. Pale, smooth skin and blue eyes, your husband extends his hand towards you. Safe. He gives you everything. You and your child will never struggle or suffer with him. You are safe with him. Aren’t you?

Blood splatters over a patch of bright pinks, yellows, and blues—

You give a bright smile.

If you ever walk this way

Come and find me lying in the bed I made

522 notes · View notes

yournextbimbogf · 2 months

Text

“Just take out all your stress on me kay?” Were the last words you said before you were in this position.

So here you were, bending in ungodly ways, panting, your eyes rolling back and drool slipping out of your lips. He strikes your ass yet again as he’s pounding you into oblivion.

“Fuckin’ ugh baby you feel so good, thank you again for letting me have at it with this pussy. How’d you know i was all stressed?” he groans out in pleasure. Your ass is now sore and thighs are tingling. The amount of creampies he gave you definitely made you fuzzy all over.

“Open up” he barks out. He puts his thick thumb into your mouth and lets you suck on it, of course he’s still pounding you almost balls deep. It was hypnotizing the way his cock goes in and out of your cream-filled pussy. Before this he had you on your knees playing with his balls and sucking his hung cock. He grabs you by your skull and pushes your head further into his cock as he watches you gag and choke on him, fat tears are rolling down your face and your lips are all swollen. Don’t worry though. He praises you the whole way so he doesn’t seem half as rude.

After sex he definitely lets you play and feed treats to Cerberus 🖤!

553 notes · View notes

doodledraw · 3 months

Text

Icemav - Hades & Persephone

They say Hades rules the Underworld. They say…the only being that can bring him back to a semblance of life is his husband, Persephone.

Just a little idea I had the other day while listening to Hadestown!! Hope you like it :))

#my art #icemav fanart #icemav #maverick x iceman #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #iceman x maverick #top gun maverick fanart #top gun fanart #top gun maverick #top gun 1986 #digital art #doodledrawsart #fanart #procreate #top gun au #hades and persephone au #hades and persephone

459 notes · View notes

ophelieverse · 5 months

Note

Can you write Aemond x Rhae daughter?She can be a Velaryon/Strong and she is like the sweetest girl and Rhae is not very happy about them being a thing and have to share her only daughter with her half brother?

⊱ ❀ ✿ cold springs

Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

I’m a simp for Greek Mythology so after reading this request I immediately thought about a sort of Hades and Persephone AU with Rhaenyra as Demeter.

I didn’t gave reader any features so she can be read as Laenor or Harwin daughter(it’s up to you).There’s a little bit of smut in the beginning,also there will be incest(if its makes you uncomfortable do not read)

Y/n is once again leaving King’s Landing for the beginning of the spring to go back to Dragonstone,to her mother and siblings to spend the spring and summer with them.She and her husband share their usual “see you soon”moment.

Than you for the request and let me know what you think💕✨

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Their shared quarters in the Red Keep were etherously quiet.After all the servants and maidens had left,the luggage was ready and the feeling of home had finally hovered again in the rooms,breaking the silence would be a shame.

«Oh Aemond…»Y/n moans softly,moving her hips up and down,riding the length of her uncle and husband.

There is not much sound,apart from the shortness of breath and the rustle of the sheets,skin on skin.The quietness of their chambers is not disturbed... more perpetuated by the lazy morning activities of the residents.

«My beautiful petal,just like that.»he encourages her,his lips tracing down her neck with hungry kisses.

Y/n brings her head backwards,her mouth open in a silent moan as his member presses against her cervix again and again.Aemond holds a tight grip on her hip,the other hand caresses the young princess nipples,as he pushes languidly inside of her.

«Sweetheart.»Y/n murmurs breathless,as her limbs turn into jelly,the heat licks her core as her body moves up and down.

It’s almost hypnotic,as Aemond watches Y/n fall apart above him,he lets her take the lead as her hands are open on his chest moving her thighs at a steady pace.There is a slight veil of sweat that covers her soft body,making her glow like a goddess under the first lights of the morning.

«Gods,right there!»Y/n whispers,the heat builds up inside her,and her eyes close,her head dangles to the side as Aemond hand tightens,sliding his hips and snapping harder.

The colors explodes under Y/n eyelids and her arms tremble.She slumps forward to capture Aemond lips in a deep kiss,sucking his tongue, sloppy and hot,but he simply wraps his arms around her neck,pressing his face closer as he pushes into her cozy warmth.

Y/n moans breathlessly,and Aemond takes advantage of the moment to turn around until he's on top and his wife arches her back.

Aemond manages to feel Y/n orgasm approaching,then lifts her left leg above his shoulder and presses her on the mattress,his mouth devouring on her throat while maintaining the same slow,agonizing rhythm.

«Fuck petal,you are so beautiful.»Aemond says on her skin,breathless like her,and lowers his hand to devote himself to the little pearl between her legs,caressing it to the rhythm of his thrusts.

She whines«Aemond..i’m..I-I’m...»she chokes out on the pleasure.

«I know baby,I’m there too.»he mumbled kissing her messily.

«Oh gods!»Y/n gasps,the words break into suffocated moans,and the air around them heats up,increasing the pressure,the orgasm that taunts them and the fire that ripples under their skin,until they hit their climax together.

Her mouth opens in a silent scream,tilting her head back into the pillow as she squeezes around Aemond member.They come simultaneously,and his hips tremble as he throws himself deep into her,he moans in her neck as the orgasm runs through him,silent and prolonged,and sighs satisfied.

They both stayed there,basking in laziness,Aemond running his fingers through Y/n hair,trying to regain control of his breath and letting their bodies cool down.Everything around them is quiet,and it seems wrong to try to break the calm silence.

The room seems to contract,like his chest.Y/n hands are looking for him,they are looking for his,among the tangle of blankets that protects them from the gaze of the dying stars of the morning.

Aemond reach them,he squeeze them and his heart loses a beat,two,three,he stop breathing. She take his breath away,with the light layer of shiny sweat that veils her forehead,the hairline messy,gorgeous,wavy,long.If he wasn’t holding her warm hands,he would run his fingers through them.She take his breath away,with lips shiny and red like ripe cherries,sweet like ripe cherries.

Y/n takes his breath away,with eyes alive made of a thousand asteroids than even the night sky envies her beauty.

Aemond can't help but to put her arms around his hips,feeling her squeeze him closer,and wishing for her to squeeze him strong,stronger.He would let her destroy his bones as well:if it should serve to make her feel even more his,he would let her do anything.

For a moment their bodies collide,her chest on his,heart height.Their two hearts have never made a single beat together,always forgotten, as if they had actually already forgotten each other,always so rushed or so slow for each other.They were meant to be like that:cold to one another,distant and divided like their parents wanted them to be.

For a time it was like that,but Aemond and Y/n seemed to explode at the wrong time for each other,didn't they?His supernova was always so far away that he couldn't even see hers,which shone in the distance.Now everything is different,now that they collide,for a second, for a thousandth of a second,their hearts beat at the same rate.And Aemond feels like he’s drowning.

It was all so overwhelming.That time of the year had come again.

Although they had already decided to organize themselves that way for the past three years, Aemond had not yet gotten used to seeing Y/n leave.He knew how he behaved as they approached that date:he became grumpy and of few words,he couldn't enjoy the moments together,because his mind was already thinking about the next six months without her.

How would he have done without her laughter that filled the corridors and that always put him in a good mood?He would have missed waking up every morning with her sweet body next to him – even in her absence,Aemond would continue to look for Y/n warmth,but finding only cold sheets on the side of her bed.

Six months apart were far too long and it scared him.It was an inexplicable fear,the one of forgetting her voice.He loved to hear her speak,her eyes shone when she described something that was close to her heart and she was very infuriated when she told him about the injustices that some of her acquaintances had suffered.She was a very empathetic person,his sweet Y/n.She really liked to sing,but he had only found out when they fled to Essos and had started living together,because Aemond didn't remember ever hearing her before.She had this habit of singing while they bathed together or to lulling him to sleep.

Aemond knew that what he would be most nostalgic for were her reproaches – she had complained more than once about his disorder:

“Why do you always leave your books around?”she would scold him,but it had happened to him more than once to find some of her things out of place,shoes,needle and thread and her creations.

His eyes would no longer be graced by her figure,he could not dwell on some of her details,such as her hands leafing through a page of a book or those same hands that masterfully and gracefully sewed,her fingers tapered around a pen as she wrote,her concentrated expression that formed small wrinkles on her forehead,her long hair that were always illuminated in the morning by a ray of sunshine coming from the window.

Aemond had promised himself not to ruin that last month before the departure,but from the expressions Y/n had thrown at him in those days,he had not succeeded at all.

He silently pleaded her to look at him with those eyes full of wonder.Let him feel what her lips can't say,let him look into the dark wells that look like the iron of his magnet every time. Aemond can never stop staring at her,first one then the other part of her body.

His fingers leave hers,the warm place of her palm;but it's just the distance of a moment, because he need to feel her under his fingertips.Aemond gently caress Y/n cheek to make her turn towards him,her big eyes finally in his,but she seem almost surprised,as if she saw him for the first time.She looked at him almost as she didn't know him,like him and her weren't in the same bed.

«Don't do that,»Aemond spoke softly«don't look at me like that or I'll start crying again.»his fingers are shaking,on her soft cheek.

«I can’t help it.»Y/n murmured,leaning in his warm touch«Every time that i leave i wish i could take a piece of you with me.»she said.

«I’m always with you»he reassured her lovingly«as you are always with me.»he played with the Valyrian steel ring on her finger.

A dragon and a rose decorated with red rubies,one for him and one for her,his gift for their wedding day and something too look at and keep close when the sea and their family divided them.

The light breeze makes him tremble,and he rest his head on her chest.His breath stops again when he feels her approach the top of his head and leaving a kiss in his hair,sweet,light to the point that he almost doesn’t feel it.Aemond release his restrained sigh trembling,as small pearls accumulate on the eyelid.He wanted Y/n closer,now that he feels her under his skin and hidden in his heart.

Aemond can't get enough of it,if it were up to him,he would live like this,stuck in her arms forever.He feels good.He feels at home.Despite this,every breath she take shakes his chest.

It happens every year and every time he ask himself how he will survive?He prayed every day for the gods to give his father a quick and painless death so that his half sister can come to sit on the Iron Throne and have Y/n always there with them both at the same time.

This sharing method,this sick idea came from his father rotting brain and Aemond hated him even more than he had ever did.It wasn’t a secret that the King favored his oldest child,his daughter Rhaenyra,more than his other children.He named her his heir,he spent his time with her and gave her everything that she wanted on a silver plate.

Aemond and his siblings were left with pretty much nothing.He didn’t received justice when he lost his eye and he didn’t received what he wanted without Rhaenyra getting in the way,as always.

After he and Y/n had escaped together,flying with their dragons to Essos,they lived peacefully and in love in the free city of Lys before their uncle Daemon had found them.

To put an end to the hatred between the Queen and the old princess,that came screaming in the King chambers about how his son had kidnapped her only precious daughter,Aemond and Y/n were married but only if both the groom and mother of the bride were able to share her presence.

Y/n would’ve spent the cold seasons with her husband at the Red Keep and the warm ones with her mother at Dragonstone,till the King would die.

Aemond loved Y/n more than anything,he always did.He was more than willing to compromise if that meant call her his wife,to be able to live with her.

But sometimes was it really enough for him to hold on to her chest,have her close to him,to breathe the same air as her?What if one day they would have to keep play this chasing each other between the planets and he lost her?What if they were to count the flowers from the moon and she slipped away?What if they were to take the bright shells to the bottom of the ocean and she was to become a wave foam?

What if once Rhaenyra will become Queen,she will forbid them to be together once for all?Once that she will have all the power,will she try to separate them forever?

She wouldn’t,this marriage was for the peace and by breaking it war will be brought upon the House of the Dragon.

Aemond often thought about that too.His love for Y/n was brighter and warmer than a million suns,he would go to war with a smile on his face if that meant having her for himself only.He was a selfish man,he desired her body,her heart,her time to be only his not to be shared with her mother.

What if one day,all of this system wasn't really enough for him anymore?If he was to feel that he wanted Y/n even closer,even closer than that,how will he do it?If all this beating of forgotten hearts no longer made him live peacefully,if this eye will no longer be able to detach from her?What will he do with this chest that does not rise,laying eye on her in the morning,when she is still sleeping and she is serene,as serene as she is when she is not awake?

But then he looks at her,as fragile as a dandelion and as brave as a wildflower.She had followed him that night,when he asked her to escape with him,without hesitation.She knew what the consequences would’ve been,but instead of be concern about them,she kissed him and told him that she would follow him to the end of the world.It was all worth it.

«You should get a tattoo.»Aemond spoke suddenly,kissing down her naked chest«I heard that in Penthos a woman with blue hair is fully covered in them.»he mumbled,tasting the silky and warm skin.

He inhales deeply,like he was addicted,wanting to bottle his wife smell,her perfume and sweat and her jasmine soap and home fragrance.She always smells like home.

«And where do you think I should do it?»Y/n asks with indulgence,lying on pillows,her hands playing with her husband hair as she lets him have fun with her body for the fourth time since last night.

«Right here.So that I’ll be the only one able to see it.»Aemond said,biting the bone of her left hip making her yelp,his hands wandering along her smooth thighs.

«Oh?»Y/n giggled,peering at the young man,his hair ruffled by early morning sex and positively glowing skin,looking so perfect that it almost hurts.

She often wonders what good she ever did to deserve to call this perfection hers.When she has escaped with him and spent the most beautiful time of her life with him,she had agreed to her grandfather orders to grant the wishes of her mother.Spending the cold months with him was more than enough if that meant be with him in the first place,if it meant having him between her legs,having him tell her that he loved her more than anything in the world and that he would burn it down if someone dared to separate them forever.

«I'm going to tattoo something here,»Aemond kissed the red marks he made with his teeth,satisfied.«So I can caress it with my tongue like this.»he goes on to lick her skin,and it tickles,so Y/n laughs,but a small choked moan comes out.

«What are you going to draw?My mother face?»She jokingly proposes,trying to wriggle away.

«I'll write “My husband property” if you don't be behave.»Aemond growls at the mention of his half sister,tightening his grip on Y/n bare legs to hold her steady.

She laughs again and her heart hurts,as much as she loves her mother,Y/n knew this is happiness.Aemond,her husband,the man that she loves is happiness.

«But I don't want a tattoo.»Y/n whispered, losing the thread of speech when Aemond mouth gets closer and closer to her heat.

«Isn't there something you want to remember? Something you want to keep forever while we are not together?»Aemond gasps down at her feminine center,his breath blowing over the already wet flower.

Before that he can continue,he feels her pulling him up,Y/n mouth that clings to his,luring him into a deep,languid kiss that leaves both of them breathless and forgetting everything he wanted to say.

«As you said,we are always together.So I don't need tattoos when I have you.»Y/n breathed,her lips moving along Aemond ones,familiar and kind.

She observe the young man's pupil dilate,his sapphire shined under the light and his face blush before moving away slightly.

Before he could turn away from her,Y/n gentle hands grabbed his face.Her thumbs caressed his cheeks lovingly,before placing a sweet kiss on his forehead.

«I know something is bothering you.Talk to me.»she whispered in his hair,cradling his head in her chest making him lay on her.

«I can’t fool you,can I?»he commented, jokingly,enjoying her soft breast as pillows.

He hoped that it was enough to lighten the atmosphere,to take away that weight he had on his stomach.Why is it so simple for her?Or is it just a feeling?

An instant of silence followed.So heavy that it could almost break the room.

«What's wrong?»Y/n asked him,caressing his long hair to calm him down.

She knew something was off,because he had warned her,in these past few days that he wanted to tell her something.And she imagined that he didn't know how to approach the topic.

Aemond closed his eye for a moment,like he was taking courage to speak«It's hard for me,you know,to see you go away.»he breathed out the truth.

«When we got married it seems to me that you agreed.»she spoke softly«It was the only way to make sure that my mother wouldn’t gone crazy without me and to be with you»she reminded him.

For as much as he hated her,Aemond had understood that him and Rhaenyra were just the same.Both of them couldn’t live without her,a wife and a daughter.And they were more than willing to share her heart and time if that meant still having her with them.

«Of course,it’s not that.»he immediately said and paused a little, before continuing«It's that I'll miss you.»he whispered.

Y/n stopped her movements,tilted his head and looked for Aemond purple eyes.He was so good with words,he knew a lot more than she did and sometimes sported the more old ones just to hear her laugh,as he pronounced them with a certain accent: “No one talks like that anymore”she used to comment,giggling.

She had noticed that,when feelings were involved,his oratory skills were lacking.She knew how much it had cost him to make such an admission.There he is,her brave husband.

There were still those who associated the adjective strong with physical abilities,especially the more visible,but Y/n was aware that there were different types of strength.And in that moment Aemond had nothing to envy to the image of the knight in the shining armor on his white horse facing trials and obstacles to save the princess,the hero of the stories she loved as a child.

«I’ll miss you too.You know it.»she reminded him,tracing the scar on his eye with a delicate finger.

He knew it,but it didn't change things.That unpleasant feeling in the mouth of the stomach did not hint at disappearing.

«We are doing this for your father and my mother.Once my mother will be Queen we’ll be together all the time.»Y/n reassured him again,her voice was steady and calm.

«You and me or you and your mother?»Aemond joked,making her chest rumble with a small chuckle.

Then she turned serious«Since my father died she’s been very sad,I’m her only daughter..»she trailed off,looking somewhere in the room.

«You told me.You're too good.»he mumbled to himself.

While Aemond and Rhaenyra endured the whole situation,Y/n seemed to be the only one willing to change her lifestyle,to sacrifice her marriage to be close to her mother.Perhaps,if Aemond was in her place,since he also has a close bond with his mother,he would have been better to understand Y/n choice as a daughter.

For now the only thing he could do was to place his forehead on her shoulder.There's nothing else that can comfort him more than that.It's when he feel her arms begin to melt from his back traversed by millions of chills that his heart begins to sob.It's stronger than his desire to look like it,strong.She would leave him alone, in the warm and empty bed,getting up to look for everything that she will need at Dragonstone.

His gaze trailed down to her body,to the smooth skin covered in his presence as she got up from the bed to put on her nightgown.He’s sitting,and looks at those clouds hiding the warm rays of the sun.

«Will you help me with these?»Y/n gently asked him,as she held two dresses in her arms.

Aemond smiled,helping her getting ready to go away was like being stabbed in the heart.But he immediately got up from the bed to put his clothes on«Here,petal.»he said taking them from her.

Her trunk at the end of her bed was full of everything and it was almost impossible to put something else in there.

«I’m afraid that you will have to leave them here with me.»Aemond told her,placing the two dresses on their bed.

It wasn’t two simple dresses.The first one,the light lilac with lavanders embroidered on it was the one she wore when Aemond asked her to flee with him,the second one,the sea green with the silver seahorses was the one she wore when her grandfather had announced their betrothal.She couldn’t just leave them here.

«Damn it!»Y/n felt overwhelmed,between them she was the one that held all together,for both of them but now she was on the breaking point.

Aemond realized that it was time to intervene. He approached her,calmed her down and together they succeeded into fit the dresses in the white truck.Eventually they raised their heads and their eyes crossed.

Like this,eyes to eye,reading each other's emotions.

«You are my spring.Going away,you take her away with you and the only thing that it’s left is this cold,empty room.»Aemond said,taking her face in his hand.

He tried his best to be supportive and to not let her know his true feeling.This was the first time he confessed to her how he felt,when she was at Dragonstone.She could have imagined what sad and gray months would be his.

Their room wasn’t completely empty,so it wasn't a definitive goodbye,but despite repeating it endlessly it wasn't enough to reassure him once and for all.Everything that was previously colorful and alive lost those bright shades,assuming some more faded,it was as if the environment reflected his emotions,a bit like a plant that was wrinkling,slowly losing lifeblood.

Y/n would have brought that joy and warmth elsewhere.And it wouldn’t be hard to imagine Rhaenyra radiant face at the sight of her only and so loved daughter coming back to her.

Instead of living in spring,it would have been a long winter for Aemond.And,although spring was Y/n favorite season,without her he wouldn't been able to appreciate it in the same way.

«You could come away with me this time.»Y/n hopefully asked him,already knowing the answer.They had already discussed this.

«You know I can't,petal.»Aemond sighed.

His parents and Rhaenyra would not allow him to follow her.That was the deal and he had agreed to it to marry her.

«I know.I just wished to walk on the beach with you again.»Y/n said dreamlike,placing her arms around his neck«You know,like we did when we went to Lys.»she kissed his cheeks while hers bloomed with red at the memory.

«I'm not sure your mother would like it.She's convinced I kidnapped you.»Aemond looking into her beautiful eyes like he did on those nights in the free city.

She laughed«You do know how to charm a young,innocent princess.»she smiled placing her forehead on his and her hand on his cheek.

«For her I'm the bad guy,there's no doubt.»he closed his eye,to savor her touch.

He reminded her of a cat,eager for cuddles.His hand rested on top of hers,imprisoning her in that position,stretching that caress as much as possible.Y/n felt his fear in that gesture;he feared that she would leave out of the blue and that she would never come back.

For her it was a senseless fear,but she understood it:every now and then Aemond would be convinced that he did not deserve her love,that it was impossible for her to reciprocate his feelings.

«It depends on who tells the story.»she said with a small smile and winking at him.

«And in your version,what role do I play?»he asked then.

Although the question had been asked for fun,Y/n weighed it seriously.

«I'd say you're not a bad guy.Although you can be very vengeful of those who have wronged you...»she started,taking in all of his face,tracing the scar of his lost eye.

Aemond expression changed as if he wanted to say something,as if he wanted to disagree,but then he thought again.He couldn’t deny this.

«But you are not the hero either.»Y/n continued to look at him like she was studying him.

He didn't expect a similar statement,he didn't like it very much.

«You would be a complex character,one of those who either you love or hate.You know those characters neither black nor white,but halfway?»Y/n asked still rambling

«The gray characters?»he answered her question with a raised eyebrow.

She nodded immediately«The ones that have a depth to bring them closer to real people.They are complex,because they have feelings,motivations and desires,sometimes even conflicting.You've met some of them in your readings,didn't you?»she said with bright eyes.

It was not so common,but yes,he had happened to find characters characterized so well that he could imagine them in the flesh and blood next to him,to feel them so close as if they were friends,with whom he could have a good chat and with the wrong mood even get to fight.

«It would be fun to read your point of view,because it would never be boring.»she smiled at him,walking towards her things.

«Of course it wouldn’t.I always think about you.»Aemond confessed.

Y/n had convinced him,he did not feel sorry for not being considered among the good guys,because basically from that description one of his hypothetical literary counterpart would have been more interesting and the subject of several debates among readers.

«Anyway,you should remind your mother that it was your choice to come with me to Lys.I didn't forced you»Aemond told her as he watched her taking her silver hairbrush.

Y/n was sitting at her vanity,looking at her husband from the mirror in front of her as she brushed her long hair«But she knows,I told her about our story.She still sees me as her little girl,she can't fully accept the fact that i grew up and that i left the nest to have a life of my own.»she explained to him.

«The one who could kidnap you or hurt you in some way,if anything,it’s Daemon.»Aemond grumbled.

«Our uncle Daemon?My mother husband?»Y/n asked surprised«Why would you think that?»she said getting up to get dressed.

She thought it was a joke,but his expression was serious.It seemed a bit exaggerated as a statement to her.It was strange how the two men,who had never spoke to each other if not forced by the situation,felt a strong dislike for each other.

When Y/n was a Dragonstone,Daemon had admonished her more than once on Aemond:in his opinion,the time when he would leave her would come soon,because he would get tired of her.And it would make her suffer,and her uncle wouldn't have allowed it.

“The Hightowers are all the same.”her uncle said all the time.

“But he’s a Targaryen and the blood of the dragon runs thick.”she defended him always.

Although Y/n agreed on one thing: she would feel a lot of pain if Aemond really decided that he didn’t wanted her anymore.Daemon didn't know her husband at all,she was sure he would never leave her for a similar reason.

If Aemond ever decided to do it,Y/n was sure that he would put her well-being first,arguing that he would do it for her,that it would be the best choice,because then they could not continue like this.

Aemond would let her go,convinced that he couldn't offer her what she wanted and that one day she would find the right man for her.This was more his style.But to get to that point,it meant that he had stopped fighting and believing in them.And the same young man that had accepted this condition to marry her,would never leaver her.

Aemond walked slowly behind her,Y/n was putting on a canary yellow dress and his hands were there to help her to tie the laces,even though his body wanted nothing more but to strip her naked and get her in bed again.

«From what I heard and what you told me about him,he never made a good impression on me.He may be my uncle but I don't like him.Don't trust him too much,be careful.Do you promise me?»his skillful fingers tied the laces in few seconds as he voiced his concerns.

Y/n too had heard stories too about their uncle.On how his first wife mysteriously died,how he lusted over the throne,how quickly he married her mother after his second wife death.Maybe Aemond was right.

«Of course.I won't let my guard down.»she promised him.

At these words it seemed to her that his features stretched out a little.However,she did not find that relief in the depths of his eye.It was that dark purple that it assumed whenever her husband was worried or upset.Y/n almost always knew when negative,sad or gloomy thoughts crossed his mind.

Now that she was all dressed,a cloak on her upper arm and gloves in her hand she realized.Y/n had done her best not to get caught up in emotions,but at that moment she realized that in a few hours she would get on her dragon and leave Aemond behind.

For the months to come she would only be able to write letters to him,she would no longer be able to touch or hug him,they would not share meals together,they would no longer read and fall asleep together curled up on their bed.

If she had initially believed that maintaining a long-distance marriage was not as difficult as everyone claimed,she was now beginning to feel the weight of it.They should have found an alternative solution,she wasn't sure she would be able to endure many more years in this way.

As much as Y/n wanted to resist and leave him an image of a strong woman,she understood that she would not make it to hide the tears that were on the verge of flowing,so she threw herelf into his arms.

Aemond catch her immediately,as always.She could count on him,he would always be there for her.He was her lifesaver.He didn't ask her anything,but lovingly he consoled her,returning the hug.He also did it for himself,he needed it. In that hug he put the same impetus and the same suffering.

Y/n clung to him like a shipwrecked would have done to the rock,to not to get carried away by the waves of the sea,like her life was depending on it.Aemond inhaled her perfume to memorize it,avoiding the fear of forgetting everything about her.He didn't want to be like a puzzle without a piece,that empty space that incessantly attracted the sight,thus forgetting the image it depicted as a whole.

He was slightly dramatic,he knew it,but since Y/n was born and became a part of his life,he couldn't imagine a future without her.They lingered longer than they could,squeezed into each other,to draw strength from the other.

When it was time to separate.Y/n wiped her eyes and in a feeble voice said to him:«We'll make it.Spring and Summer will pass in an instant.»kissing him on the lips for the last time.

«I’m always here.I'll wait for you.»Aemond smiled at her.As soon as she turned around,a tear rolled down his cheek.

Six months will flew fast in the wind and with the first brown leaves,she was back to him again.

511 notes · View notes

call-me-strega · 2 months

Text

Dc x Dp Prompt #15: Not Quite Like Hades and Persephone

Hades and Persephone type au but Danny is Persephone and splits his time between ruling the realms and being on the mortal plane with his family. He uses duplicates to help him out by leaving one in the realms when he goes home to visit bc of course the realms need constant supervision.

One day the JL needs help and summons the ghost king, are awed by his power, blah blah blah, yada, yada, yada, you know the drill. After the fight they’re getting ready to send him back when the duplicate makes a throw away comment about how it would have been easier with his other half and he wonders how the family visit is going before he leaves and everyone is left going “?!?!!???!!!!”

And because none of them know how to leave well enough alone they reach wildly incorrect conclusions the King Phantom has a human consort and they have a Hades and Persephone arrangement going on.

Well all of the except one (1) person of your choosing who straight up tracks Danny down and asks about. They are the only ones who get a straight answer and the truth. Evidently, because Danny is a little shit, he lets them believe whatever they want until they outright ask him about it like the one hero did. The one hero become Danny’s partner in crime trying to convince the others that A) yes this totally is a Hades and Persephone type of situation and B) yes they are totally trying to turn this situation into a throuple.

Chaos and hilarity ensues. Do with this what you will.

#dc x dp #danny phantom #Perceived PitchPearl #Phony Hades and Persephone au #Which hero do you think is trying to convince others that they’re joining Danny and Phantom in a throuple #misunderstandings #misunderstandings for the sake of comedy #Strega’s dc x dp prompt

337 notes · View notes

eraenaa · 4 months

Text

From The Underworld and Beneath (Greek Mythology AU)

Aemond x Reader AU

Synopsis: You, the Goddess of Spring, were captured by the King of the Underworld, who was intent on keeping you there.

Warnings: Mature 18+, Fingering, Grinding, Stockholm Syndrome, Abduction

Word Count: 3080

Perfect and pretty, perched upon a stone, picking at petals. Pure, sweet relief. That is what you are. Not a thought bothers you, sweetling. Pampered and protected by your mother. A heavy price would be paid if anyone dared bother the perfect peace you always had.

A breathy sigh escaped your lips. You were in paradise, but why did a frown adorn your pretty face? Goddess of the spring, you are. Sullen, you are, as well. You continued to pick at the petals. The same thing every day. The same faces before you. The same task was presented. You were growing of your little routine. You wanted something different. Something that would disrupt the perfect peace bestowed upon you.

“Are you well? What bothers you?” They ask as they play in the field. You sighed once more, deflated shoulders shrug. Your complaints not wanting to leave your plump lips. Should you not be grateful for your station? Everything was provided before you. The ground you walked upon, worshiped. You were adored by many. Then why should you feel such melancholy?

You faked a smile, not wanting to seem ungrateful. They bought it easily, returning to play once more as you sat somberly upon the stone. You stared upon the bud; you picked off the petals, naked and bare. Now vulnerable with the touch of the world. You brought the bare flower to your lips, the bud brushing upon your flesh before you discard it. You stood and searched for another flower. Another to feel, another to asses, another to bless with your touch.

You hear the chatter and laughs of your other friends as you stray further away. Searching for something to bring you excitement. Searching for something to bring you pleasure. You bent down when something pretty caught your eye. Greedily picking on it, ripping it away from the home it had known.

Then, all of a sudden, the ground you stood upon shook. You looked around in panic, searching for something, anything— but what would that help? You had no clue what to do. So you stood. You stood there until a chariot came into view, dark as night, and did not sit well upon the field of light you prance upon. Your brows furrowed again, but that did not matter. Because one moment, you were picking pretty flowers, flowers as pretty as you, then the next, a stronghold placed itself upon your waist, and you were whisked off. The last thing you saw was your friends running and calling after you, but it did not matter. You were already taken. Taken by a man who would never relinquish his hold.

“What happened? Who dare take my daughter? Answer me!” Your mother demanded, a group of nymphs before her. Her face filled with fretting rage. “It was your brother… Aemond, we are certain of it,” They said, and your mother’s heart pitted. You were taken, and she had no idea how to rescue her precious daughter. “How can we save her? We’ll do anything!” Your friends pleaded, but Rhaenyra only shook her head, clueless as well on how to proceed. The only thing she could think of was to come to your father for assistance, for guidance, for vengeance.

You stare wide-eyed as you sit on a lap. A lap of a man you did not know. His hold on your waist had never left, strong, cold hands steady on it’s hold. You had not uttered a word, enveloped in shock, and you would say fear as well, but it did not feel as if it were the right word. It was more of confusion, confusion as to why you were taken, and confusion as to why you did not feel fear trickle inside you.

“Who are you?” You dare ask at the man whose lap you were perched upon. You still had not lifted your gaze; you had not met your abductor’s eyes. You simply stared at his dark leather robes, stiff and smooth against your white dress. You hear a scoff leave his lips and feel his hold tighten; his other hand moves to twirl your hair.

Aemond hummed as your gaze was still cast down. His fingers ran through your silky hair; he took a deep breath and eased on his throne as he smelt you and the flowers in your hair. He had been watching you for a while… had been wanting you for a while as well. And finally, he had enough of watching from afar. He was done hiding in the gardens to catch a single glimpse of you. He was done fantasizing about holding you— touching you. He had to take you. “I see my sister has neglected to warn you about me,” he watched you as your back stiffened by the mention of your mother. Aemond felt his breath stutter as you finally placed your gaze upon him. “You are her brother— Aemond?” You asked and watched as the ball on his throat bobbed and how his lone eye closed. Aemond felt a wave of pleasure rush through him by the mere act of you uttering his name.

“Why have you brought me here?” You asked as you finally realized where you were. Somewhere, the sun did not shine; somewhere, the flowers did not grow; somewhere, you did not belong. “Please, you must return me to my mother! She—“ Words died on your tongue as Aemond opened his eye, his grip on you growing tighter and tighter, pulling you closer to him. “She had neglected her precious daughter… I have seen you… so sullen, so melancholic. Things you must never be, little flower.” You held your breath as his face drew closer to yours. “It is not her fault!” You defended. “I…I had just…I— please, you must return me to her!” You begged. Looking before the man, skin pale, eye dark. A black, sharp crown upon his hair of platinum. You held your breath as his cold hand went to caress your cheek, him humming in satisfaction. “Never,” He swore.

Pleasure was something Aemond never felt. He was deprived of it— starved of it. But not now. Not when he placed his lips upon yours. Sweet and plump, another something he had never felt— never tasted. Aemond felt himself turn rigged as a whimper left your lips, certain you would pull away and be another to deny him pleasure. But you stayed still; you kept your lips upon his. You let your blessed touch cup his cheek. His mind was made and fortified; he will never let you go. No, he could never let you go.

“Daemon, he has taken my child! Our child!” Rhaenyra screamed through the whole of the heavens. “I demand you to demand him to bring her back to me!” She cried for her child. “That is something I cannot do.” Rhaenyra felt the eyes of the others watching them. “And why not?” She questioned with desperation. She watched the man before her, thinking him the most powerful and rightful of all. But now, as he sat on his throne, gaze shielded from her pleading eyes. She saw him as nothing but a fraud. “Fine. If you do not bring me my child— I shall do it myself.” Rhaenyra swore and raged out, going through the ends of the world in search of her beloved child. In search of you, who had your lips dancing against your captor’s.

As Aemond moved you to straddle him— for both of you to feel each other… you froze at his touch. Questions swirling in your mind, great questions that muddled the great pleasure you felt while in the king of the underworld’s arms. You hear a deep whine leave Aemond’s throat as you part from him. His head moved, lips still puckered, and wanting to feel it against yours, but you were persistent in asking your questions. “Why—why have you brought me here?” You breathlessly asked, hands on his shoulders, trying to push him and keep the distance between your lips. You watched his eye, dark and filled with wanting. Your eyes copied his as every moment passed. Wanting fueling both of your beings.

“It is simple… I want you.” Aemond uttered and moved to kiss your sweet lips once more, but you shook your head. You feel your heart spike as he tightens his hold on your waist. His lips pursed, and you felt yourself waver by the look he gave. “You, my little flower, will be my queen.” You feel yourself pale at his words. “But— my mother— I must see her.” You insisted. But instead of answering your plea, Aemond placed his lips upon yours again. The taste of wine on his tongue intoxicates your senses. You flutter as you feel his strong hand slowly move and cup your cloth breast. You gasped in shock, and he retrieved his hand. Trepidation swirling, but you took hold of his hand and urged him to keep it there. The initial shock turned to excitement and, dare you say, pleasure as his cold hands met with your pebbled and warm flesh.

“Aemond,” You mewled as he kneaded your tits. You panting, as you had never felt such a sensation before. Had never encountered such a touch before. Beneath you, you feel his length, prominent and grazing over your cunt. Your wanting body had muddled your mind, and you boldly moved your hips, brushing and pressing against the god of the underworld’s length. A sound rumbled on from his throat— a deep growl that made more color rise to your cheeks. That made you want him, a stranger, even more.

You feel his hold on your waist again. Him guiding you to grind upon his cock. The friction against your cunt was another thing you had never felt. Things you had never thought of before, sensations you had never experienced, anticipation and excitement you had been longing and searching for presented themselves in the form of the man whose lips were peppering kisses on your neck. Whose bulge perfectly met with your needing cunt. Whose hands had found home in your waist.

“Ae—Aemond?” You called, and he hummed as he continued his torment on your neck. His lips left his mark. “I… want you— I want you to take me.” You breathily whispered and felt him tense beneath you. You captured his gaze, indigo eyes darker than they had ever been before. “You do?” He gritted. You bit your lip and nodded. You took his hand and guided it downwards, wanting his cold, strong hand to be met with your warm, dripping cunt. You watch his eye grow wide by your actions.

Aemond had never thought that it was possible for him to want you more than he already did, but by your actions… your boldness and eagerness to let him touch you in such a way, all he wanted to do was bend you over his throne and fuck you until the whole of the world and heavens hears the pleasure he gives. Aemond moved to kiss your swollen lips once more, his fingers starting to draw circles on your needing cunt, but you backed away from his lips.

“I want you to take me… make me your queen, but only after I’ve seen my mother. I must say my goodbyes.” You said and pouted as the pleasurable movements of his fingers ceased. He raised his brow at your ultimatum. “Please…” You begged and pressed yourself further to him, letting your ample breasts rest against him. “You will return?” He asked. Aemond tried not to let doubt seep into his mind and tried not to grow distracted by your body. He had you— you were finally with him. How could he ever let you go?

You eagerly nodded, “I swear… I will return, and after we— we can continue.” You slyly said, not missing the way his lips twitched upward. You watch him for a moment of still silence. And after, a sigh left his lips. His fingers remove themselves from your wet cunt, and you feel yourself grow alight as you watch him lick the digits that succumbed to your essence.

Aemond smirked as he watched you grow red in shock. A sound of pleasure leaving his throat by the taste of you. Every part of you was sweet and tart— tastes he thought he had no care for now made him grow addicted. “Very well then,” he conceded. “You can return for your mother to say your goodbyes,” He permitted and watched as a sweet, blooming smile came to your lips. A smile that made the breath catch in his throat and made his immortal heart stutter. “Thank you!” You beamed and placed a kiss on his lips. Aemond hummed, “But first… you must eat. You would need sustenance as you ascend to the world above once more,” He whispered against your lips. He watched your innocent eyes grow confused, but still, you nodded.

You watched as Aemond took hold of fruit, you still seated on his lap and watching as he unpeeled the foreign fruit for you. You watched him cut open the red sphere in his hands—the skin of the fruit thick and white on the inside. You watch him delicately take the seeds and place them in his palm for you to take. You look at him uncertainly, but he simply nods and urges you to eat. You hesitantly took a seed into your mouth. Aemond watching as you eat the fruit. You delight at the taste of it, sweet and tart— just like how you tasted to Aemond. He smiled as you took two seeds to your mouth next, a grin spreading across his lips as you took two more again.

Though you have sworn you would return, Aemond could not gamble on the possibility of empty promises. So he took matters into his own hands. The fruit that he fed you was an informal contract that will bind you to him forever. Just a few more seeds, and you will have no choice but to stay in his arms for all of eternity. As you took the sixth seed into your mouth, a deafening and shrill call of your name sounded through the whole of the underworld.

Aemond placed his protective hold on you as he was certain whose voice it was calling after you. Your mother’s eyes were frantic as she saw you perched upon the lap of his brother, his arms around you; the seed of a pomegranate slipped past your lips. “No!” He screamed and traded closer, but a three-headed hound appeared from behind Aemond’s throne and growled at your mother. Aemond saw the fear in your eyes as the beast continued to growl at your mother, but he ran his fingers through your hair and hushed your fretting self as well as his hound.

“Welcome, sister,” Aemond said and moved you to un-straddle his lap but still made you sit upon it, only moving your frame to face your mother, who seethed in anger from where she stood. “I am glad you have finally visited me in my kingdom after so many years,” You tilted your head in question as you saw the clear anger in your mother. “I demand you to release my daughter!” Rhaenyra screamed, and you turned to Aemond, a sly smirk on his lips. “That… I cannot do. She has agreed to be my wife,” Aemond smiled and placed a kiss upon your temple. You watched in further question as to why your mother kept her angered demeanor. “Say your goodbyes now, my flower,” Aemond whispered in your ear, and you nodded. Standing to meet your mother who stood at the end of the steps of Aemond’s throne.

“We must leave!” Rhaenyra said as you neared, you turned back to Aemond. Him laxly sitting on his throne watching you. A pout started to form on your plump lips as your mother began to pull you. “But I wish to stay,” You stated, and your mother looked at you perplexed. “I want him.” You added, and Aemond smirked as he heard your words—a new surge of wanting coursing through him by your statement.

“No! You do not belong here, my child; come now, let us leave!” Your mother urged, and you shook your head, staying your ground as she tried to pull you away once more. “I want to stay.” You insisted and saw the betrayal in the eyes of your mother. A wave of guilt crashed through you, but the desire for Aemond and to be his queen was much greater that you disregarded your mother’s plea. Stepping away from her, you returned to your seat on Aemond’s lap. The smirk never left his lips, but his hold on you returned as both of you watched your mother dejectedly walk away.

The guilt forming in your heart could not announce itself properly as Aemond returned his hand to your cunt. The folds were still slick and wet from his earlier touches. The hurt you caused your mother could not be processed as pleasure was now seeping its way through you.

“More… please,” You asked Aemond as his fingers were slow and teasing against your cunt. “Aemond, please,” you were quick to plead again. The king of the underworld smirked and obliged your wanting. One of his hands drew circles upon the bud of your cunt whilst the other moved to cup your tit once more. Feeling and squeezing the soft flesh. Aemond felt you move your hips once more, spreading your legs wider for him. He hummed in satisfaction to feel you flutter against him.

You called his name again, a sensation new and somewhat unsettling. You gasped as you felt your insides wanting for release. It was almost a ticklish feeling, but it was wholly more. You harshly bit your lip, uncertain of what is to happen. “Come for me, little flower,” Aemond commanded by the shell of your ear and bit the lobe of it. You were not certain how to do it— uncertain on how to come, but you supposed you have done it as wetness from your cunt grew, and a hum of satisfaction from Aemond sounded through your pleasured daze. You could only watch as he brought his wet fingers with your essence to his lips once more. “So, fucking sweet.”

#aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #prince aemond #house of the dragon #aemond x reader #hades x persephone au #greek mythology au #hotd fanfic #hades #persephone #aemond smut #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader

262 notes · View notes

vaniloqu3nce · 1 year

Text

EVERYONE STOP.

Hades and Persephone Wenclair Au PLEASE. PLEASE SOMEONE ANYONE.

Wednesday as the lord of the underworld is doing things to my brain that are not healthy for someone with my levels of queer

Enid basically having hell on a leash because her wife does just about anything she says.

“What if we give therapy to some of them? They can’t all be terrible.”

“Yes, dear.”

645 notes · View notes

ebongawk · 18 days

Text

hades/persephone AU but Chrissy is the resigned, lonely Goddess of the Dead with the weight of the Underworld on her shoulders and Eddie is the God of Spring who brings color and life back into her existence

#hellcheer #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #stranger things #chrissy x eddie #hellcheer prompt #chrissy cunningham #hades and persephone #hades Persephone AU

100 notes · View notes

biteofcherry · 8 months

Text

Sweet and stained

soft dark Nick Fowler x female reader

a Hades/Persephone inspired AU set in modern times, with an implied mafia background

summary: You live in the sun and blooms, under your mother's protective wing (or is it cage?). When Nick Fowler strolls into your life, he brings a wave of thrilling fresh with the darkness that follows him.

warnings: soft!dark Nick Fowler; sort of dub-con; kidnapping; manipulation; light corruption kink; mentioned breeding kink; a bit of smutty scenes included;

Author's Note: This is a trope that won the poll for my birthday celebration story. Honestly, the way I imagined this fic at first is completely different from how it turned out. Less sharp than my usual style and more of a gloomy, start-of-the-autumn poetics. Still, I hope you'll enjoy!

You never knew black could shimmer so brilliantly, even though you saw its various shades in petals of unique flowers. The night sky’s ink was dotted with sparkling dust, too, after all. Yet it was only now that you noticed the luminosity of dark, as your head tilted back on the softest pillows and your gaze roamed the supple garlands of the black canopy.

Dark interior, which scared you the first time you took a step inside, now engulfed you in heady warmth. Like a sip of spicy hot chocolate, so rich and thick it coats your tongue and fills your belly with a bitter bite to its general sweetness.

There’s more spice than sweetness to your captor, but you began realizing he remained the only one to treat you with softness. As if he truly cared.

Perhaps he did?

Maybe the charm and patience he showed you at the beginning were as true as the ruthless possessiveness with which he bound you to him.

You had years to find that out. Decades at his side, to unravel the scary mystery that was Nick Fowler.

Your husband.

His face above you, as he sat beside your sweaty, spent body, shone a serene glow. His eyes a shade of clear lake, with monsters luring in the depths.

You still feared him, but Nick gave you enough proof that he wouldn’t hurt you.

Even if his plan for you was weaved out of nefarious intentions.

He set aside the glass of water which he brought to your lips a moment ago, soothing your throat that dried out from how much you screamed for him.

It’s for the best that you couldn’t speak at the moment, your breath still ragged; since you didn’t know what you’d say to him after all the debauched things he did to you. Post sex pillow talk was never your forte, but it was even more awkward after willingly spreading your legs for a man who ripped you from your life as one plucked a flower from the ground.

Silently, you watched Nick once again pick a crystal bowl from the nightstand, a shiny barrow of pomegranate seeds peeking above the rim.

He devoured some moments before he indulged in your dripping pussy.

Seeds glistened ruby richness on Nick’s fingers as he brought them to your lips; his own mouth stained with the juice. He left traces of the red sweetness on your thighs and mound, mixing pomegranate flavor with your combined spend.

Your lips wrapped around his digits as he spilled fruity grains on your tongue. One of your hands rested on your belly, just below your navel.

Nick has repeatedly filled you with seeds that night, not only those of a pomegranate.

It made you tremble. His intent was clear; not only shown in relentless, deep thrusts, but dark and dirty words whispered into your ear.

Your body shouldn’t react so eagerly to his plans, arching and spasming in whorish acceptance as he ordered you to take it; as he fucked you through one climax into another, telling you of his heir swelling in your womb.

Disgust should have filled you, instead of arousal. Because as much as you believed Nick was going to dote on you, his owning of your body in every sense was driven by revenge.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

With the wide rim of the sunhat on your head limiting your view and your focus on the pots dancing away from you (the wind that day was wickedly playful, knocking over the smaller pots every time you righted them), you weren’t paying much attention to your surroundings.

People walked past, some gleefully talking about plants, others arguing on what was or wasn’t needed in their garden. On a sunny day like that, Demeter Gardens had as many customers as a fun fair on weekends.

The staff was really busy on days like this, doubling their efforts, because it was usually when your mother chose to grace the place with her radiant presence - radiant to the customers, an absolute harpy to her workers.

There were many traits you admired about your mother. The most inspiring was the fact she was a barely out of teens single mother who managed to raise you and start a business that flourished into a state known brand.

She had her faults, too. Like the high expectations and harsh tongue when someone didn’t meet her standards.

It went both for her employees and her daughter.

Working with plants soothed you, so at least your future as the heiress to the empire your mother wanted you to take over didn’t look as grim. Even if some evenings you cried into a pillow, because it wasn’t what you dreamt of at all.

Growing under her wing, you didn’t get much of a chance to explore what exactly you could dream of, what called out to you, but you simply knew that running a gardening business wasn’t it.

You never dared to tell your mother that. Enough times have you suffered her cruel words, snide remarks regarding anything that strayed even a step away from her grand plans. Demeter had ambition rivaling many moguls and she poured it onto you as well. The only praise you got was when you won any sort of competition, or mentioned business plans.

Your mother may have only spiteful words to say about your absent father, but she possessed the same self-centered core as him. Rotten and unkind.

How plants flourished under her hands, you had no idea.

Though she didn’t spend much time with them anymore, leaving it to people who really liked working with plants. You liked the peace and quiet it offered, which is why you spent almost every day at the gardening center.

“Excuse me?” A smooth male voice startled you.

Not only with how sudden and close it was, but also because it was so unusual in a place mostly filled with cheery, loudly speaking families or couples.

You turned your head, pulling the rim of your sunhat up with your dirty fingers, so you could see the person better.

Your gaze met a pair of blue eyes, with a silvery gray swirl in them, that chilled you like an autumn rain pattering on your skin. A shadow of stubble along a chiseled jaw, which would feel under your fingertips like frosty needles of the first hoarse coating November leaves. Subtle, pink lips curved in a smile, but its charm didn’t fully cover the sharp threat of teeth that could sink in ‘till blood spilled like in spooky nightmares of autumnal season.

This man looked like the stillness of dying nature, engulfed in fog and chilling to the bones. A dark spirit amongst the lush greenery and blooming life that stretched all around.

And yet he was more beautiful than any man you ever laid eyes on.

“Yes?” You swallowed nervously, mostly to wet your suddenly dry throat. “Can I help you?”

“I’m sure you can,” he said softly, his voice a brush of cool silk.

“See, I usually hire garden designers to take care of any greenery around my business buildings, but the one at my actual home? I wanted to work on it myself.”

“Understandable.” You smiled at him. “Having your own garden is a personal thing. Working on it helps you connect with the place that will be your oasis.”

“The problem is, I quickly realized I have zero idea what I’m doing. But I’m a stubborn bastard, who’s still adamant on chasing what he set his eyes on.” He sighed dramatically, making you laugh.

“Anyway-” he shook his head- “I’m Nick. Please, help me out?”

You gave him your name, taking his hand when he outstretched it. His fingers were calloused, though it’s the cool brush of metal of his rings that sent tiny spikes of sensation through you.

“What exactly do you need my help with, Nick?” You took off your sunhat and squinted slightly as the sunlight soaked your vision.

“My tastes are… unique.” You knew he spoke about aesthetic preferences, but couldn’t help hearing the double meaning behind it. Especially with the sensual flick of his tongue over his bottom lip.

“I’m mostly out the whole day,” Nick continued explaining, “coming home only in the evening. Which is when I wish to spend most time in the garden. To relax and enjoy its secret beauty.”

“You want night bloomers.” You guessed, grinning ear to ear.

Flowers blooming in the evening and through the night were one of your favorites. There was something about them that called out to you. Perhaps the fact they were overlooked under the radiant sun, hiding their secret beauty to flourish in shadows, when no one could judge them.

There was also the aura of mystery about them, pairing so well with your fondness for gloomy and gothic stories.

“See? I knew I was asking the right person for help.” Nick mirrored your smile; his made you a little weak in the knees.

“You have to get the Moonflower, of course.” You moved and gestured for Nick to follow you, as you led him to the far end of the center.

“I have to?” Nick chuckled, matching your step to walk beside you rather than behind you.

Shoulder to shoulder with him, you suddenly realized he was taller than at first sight. Much warmer than what his dark aura suggested, too. And his scent was a toe-curling reminder of spicy mulled wine sipped by the fireplace.

“Yes!” You nodded, brushing your fingertips along the plants you passed on your way. “Moonflower is my favorite. It’s similar to the morning glory. You won’t see its full beauty now, but I assure you it never disappoints.”

When you finally reached the corner with potted plants - from smallest to those quite grown already - Nick bent over to examine it closely. He gently trailed the heart-shaped leaves, then plucked the yellow card attached to one of the thin stems.

“Moonflower, or moon vine,” he read aloud, “is a night-blooming morning glory that opens in the evening and stays full until morning.”

Nick straightened and turned to you, gaze slowly dragging up your body. When his eyes met yours, there was a glint of something cold and dangerous in them. As if for a split of a second you saw a flash of instrumental triumph.

“Opens in the evening and stays full until morning,” he repeated the words, his voice dropping an octave and filling your belly with unexpected heat. “I like it already.”

“Uh, well-” you squeezed the rim of the sunhat in your grasp- “Yes, see, I told you. You’ll like it even more when it blooms in your garden.”

“I know I will.” Nick affirmed solemnly.

Something about his gaze, or perhaps it was the set of his jaw, quickened your pulse with a warning that his intent was more than just a harmless flirting. There was this tinge of danger about him, fizzing on the tip of your tongue with a spicy aftertaste.

If you licked his skin, the cold darkness may swallow you, but everything inside you would set aflame.

Apprehension tingled inside your chest, like wind chimes’ pearly tune that lured with their woeful longing. Reason whispered to take a step back, but feet moved forward on their own, drawn to the inner flame that may as well be straight from hell.

It was hard to break eye contact with Nick, but you feared if you didn’t look away he’d mesmerize you into selling your soul. And your body. Body which awoke with yearning to have his fingertips trail along your skin the same way he touched the plants.

Somehow you managed to turn away. The sun’s warmth returned to your cheeks, caressing your face with soothing lightness the second you stepped away from Nick’s gloomy aura.

“You should also get night blooming Jasmine. It smells so sweet.” You rambled about plants, clutching onto the topic like it was a lifebuoy keeping you afloat from sinking into fascinating, but scary depths that were Nick’s eyes.

“And Angel’s Trumpets!” With your presentation, excitement returned.

You were helping create something personal, something so very unique. However Nick chose to use your advice, you had a blissful sense of creating something yourself. A garden that may as well be yours, since it catered to your aesthetic and needs as well.

Nick ordered so many of the plants you listed that not only did you run out of stock, but had to set up a delivery from another center. You weren’t sure how big Nick’s garden was, but considering the amount of plants it had to be a king-sized land.

The thought of roaming it in the late evening, with dusk hiding hues of purple and gold in a shroud of ink black, and moonlit petals opening up for the life of creatures of the night; it made your heart yearn.

You’d love to wander through that garden.

For someone who ran a gardening empire, your mother kept you both locked in a metal and glass skyscraper, in a two-floor penthouse with (amazing, but contained) view of the city.

It was a cage.

As you watched Nick walk away after he paid in advance for the order, though he took with him some chilling sense of danger, you envied his freedom to simply walk away from the sun and the blooms.

Many would be jealous of you, you were aware of that. Living among lush greenery and constant sun seemed wonderful. It was to an extent. But this pristine, spring and summer only land, didn’t allow difference. There was no real room for unusual, dark undertones of wicked hearts that would love to have wild mushrooms spread over their lawn instead of snobby hydrangeas.

When a cooling cloud shielded you from the scorching sun, coming along with Nick as he returned the next week, you felt like breathing freely for the first time since he walked away.

This time he asked for fruit trees which he wanted to scatter among other types. The idea immediately struck you as unique, making your heart jump.

Most of the time people divided their gardens - strict lines and areas for vegetables, separating them from decorative flowers. Mixing them up seemed chaotic, but so wonderful. What a surprise to walk through gemstone garlands of wisteria to find juicy peaches at arm’s reach. Or to tread through ferns and moonflowers to discover gooseberry bushes hidden amongst them.

When Nick came on a third week, your excitement at his presence and news of his garden overpowered any sense of reason that kept you at a certain distance with him.

And when he mentioned that keeping a routine and being at the center on the same day, same hour every week could be dangerous.

“Someone could watch you, learn your schedule and plan how to steal you, Moonflower.”

Having Nick call you Moonflower - the word rolling out on his tongue in a hum of wind, chilling to the bone, but igniting that deep-soul yearning - stirred feelings that overpowered the warning.

Or maybe you started living for that rush of thrill Nick’s shadow elicited. The only spot of darkness allowed in your life. Enriching it thus.

Still, fear resurfaced with tentacles of cold wrapping around you and plucking you from the sunny spot in broad daylight as you trotted to work the week after. On the same day as usual, with a bounce to your step as thirst for Nick’s brand of addictive flavor parched your throat.

The car was black; a polished, obsidian arrowhead spearing the sheet of morning light. The engine’s sound more the growl of a prowling beast than the roar of an unhinged monster.

Despite the speed, it stopped gracefully at the curb, cutting off your route. Nick’s silhouette stunned you as he exited the car; the blue-green depth of his eyes darker than when he walked along with you through blooming alleys.

A smile didn’t have a chance to spread on your lips when his hand covered your mouth, the other arm wrapping around you.

You screamed when he dragged you inside the car, but calloused fingers stifled the sound effectively. Wet tinkle of your cries reverberated against the metal of the rings adorning Nick’s fingers.

Pleading eyes, so full of unanswered questions and fear, didn’t cut through the veil of composure. One had no chance begging their life out of death’s grip and Nick’s hold on you was a finality set in stone, as if the grim reaper came to harvest your soul to lead it to undying gardens for the rest of eternity.

“No need for tears, Moonflower.” Nick took his hand from your mouth as the car sped away.

His touch traveled down your shaking arm, harsh fingers delivering surprisingly comforting caress. He took your hand in his and brough your palm to his mouth, kissing softly each knuckle.

“I’ll make you a queen and treat you as such. No harm will ever be done to you.”

“You kidnapped me,” you pointed out, voice quiet and quivering, though you bravely held his gaze. “That’s quite harmful.”

“It’s only a means to avoid meddling of forces that would otherwise keep you away from me.” Nick rested his head back against the seat. “From what I found out about you, they’ve quashed you enough.”

“You know nothing about me, or my life!” You huffed, squirming back into the corner, your back against the side door.

You were never a physical fighter and Nick made no move to grip or hurt you other than pulling you into the car, so you didn’t attack him. You also doubted you had much of a chance of earning anything beside exhaustion and bruises.

It was pitiful to admit, but you never fought anything or anyone beside the dragons in your head. The rebellion and storm were caged within your chest, mind full of words you wanted to scream at your mother, your father, the whole world. But you never did it. Never felt secure enough in your strength to cut those ties.

“I know you’re dedicated and smart, finished on top of your class, gaining a degree that you never wanted to have in the first place.” Nick replied calmly.

His unperturbed composure was as much soothing as resonating with your usual behavior. Though you sensed that his limits weren’t pushable. If it came to it, his retaliation to being crossed would be severe. Lethal even.

You envied that power.

You wanted that power.

“You have passion for creativity and you are a fucking brilliant survivor.” Those words were spoken with admiration; a brilliant foam lighting up the sea storm of Nick’s irises.

“You don’t love gardening as a business. I doubt you’re even interested in actual gardening work. But you see and love plants, their uniqueness, the details of them. You like their beauty, even the unusual ones. You’re an artist, Moonflower.”

Your heart burst with an intermixture of colorful emotion - a hail of fireworks against the black depth that is your caged life.

“Artists should never be shackled into expectations.”

“Yet you took me, because you expect something from it,�� you retorted bitterly.

“I expect nothing beyond you being by my side.” Nick’s fingers circled one of your wrists, thumb pressing against your pulse. “And strengthening the power of my empire.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” There was nothing of value that you could give him. Did he hope for a dowry and connections from your father?

“Just by being with me.” He shifted, crowding you against your little safety corner. “Coming home to you would sweeten every hard day, knowing that I ripped something most precious from the one who took everything from my family.”

Comforting spices of his scent conflicted with the shadows he shrouded you in, painting a picture of a fairy tale that’s twisted enough that it shouldn’t be enjoyable. Yet struggling against the thorny veins of Nick’s plan seemed to have the opposite effect, pushing you further into forests of unknown thrills.

“So I’m a vengeance plan?” You’d prefer it if your voice didn’t betray the disappointment, but it was too late to take back that undertone now.

“Vengeance doesn’t mean burning the world down. That’s too simple and holds no ongoing effect.” Nick’s mouth curved in a scythe of dangerously alluring smirk, his eyes darkening. “Phoenixes rise from the ashes of burnt kingdoms. I rose from it.”

“My type of vengeance is to flourish on the fertile fields of my enemy’s broken ambitions.”

You believed Nick’s every word - that he had the resilience and endurance to build himself from whatever ruin his opponents left him with. It honed him, like hell fire does an indestructible blade.

Many would use that lethal edge to cut the throats of all enemies. But Nick’s revenge wasn’t to bring short term pain and wipe out the others, he wanted them to drown in their suffering, to stretch it out plucking petal after petal of their lush empires.

“You, Moonflower-” he skimmed his fingers along your arm and up the column of your throat- “are my prosperity. My core to thrive.”

“Binding you to me and allowing you to bloom into a woman you always wished to be, whatever form that may take,” Nick loosely curled his fingers around your neck, “will make me happy for I know you’re a brilliant gem. But I won’t hide that it will also crush the rotten heart of my enemy.”

“Seeing you at my side, growing along me and with me-” something about that particular choice of words unfurled heat in your core, like the time he mentioned flowers staying full-

“-will keep the flame of anger and pain consuming her daily.”

“Her?” you suddenly blinked, moving your legs slightly to alleviate the pressure that uncomfortably grazed your folds.

“My mother?” You stared at Nick in bewilderment. “She’s your enemy?”

Nick chuckled, though you weren’t sure if it was at your astonishment or the squirmy movement of your body which he noticed. He leaned closer still, knees brushing against yours. Where the fabric of your summer dress rolled up on your thighs, the fine fabric of his suit pants grazed your skin.

“Your mother may present herself as the survivor against all odds and she is very determined, I’ll give her that. She also became heartless in her need to improve her life and show the world she doesn’t need help, ripping the fortune of others to build herself.”

“She stole from you?” There wasn’t much shock in your response. After all, you knew the backstage face of the gardening queen; the truth behind the sunny smile of the nature-loving new age goddess.

“From my family.” Nick gritted his teeth at the mention. “They took her pregnant under their roof, taught her family secrets of maintaining lush flowers. I was barely four when you were growing in her belly, but I remember her always slapping my hand away when I wanted to touch it, to feel a tiny baby miracle kicking.”

He didn’t say it, but you began to understand the part of possessiveness. The touch he didn’t withdraw an inch once he was able to reach for you freely. Something he was denied, now he ripped it away for himself.

“First she stole the knowledge, then farms and fields.” Nick continued, his voice heavy with ice cold anger. “Came with fancy lawyers and bulldozers, chasing my family away from the scrap of land and the mounds of soil that my grandparents brought from Romania.”

You remembered one time your mother mentioned something about the secret being in the soil, a harpy reflection to her smile when she did.

“My mother’s heart couldn’t take it. My father fled to Romania, finding the only solace in a small square of land where he grew a new hybrid of flowers. Named it after my mother.”

Nick paused for a moment, his eyes boring into yours. A few breaths and the rage surpassed, leaving the lull of oceanic waves in his eyes. They rocked you as you held his gaze; your body attuning to the pulse of crackling fireplace on a dead cold autumn night that was Nick’s aura.

“I’m not a gardener myself,” Nick shrugged, easing his free hand up your leg. “But I know how to plow through hard and high grounds. I’ve made myself a different kind of empire, though I always remained respectful of nature and plants, as my parents did.”

You didn’t even feel him grip you any harder, yet somehow Nick managed to switch your positions in a blink of an eye - pulling you onto his lap.

One of his hands remained at your throat, thumb gently stroking up and down along your pulsing vein.

“You’ll be my queen. You’ll give me heirs.” It wasn’t a proposition, but a declaration of decision set in stone. “I’ll give you the freedom and power you so desperately crave.”

“What do you know of my cravings?” You hoped to challenge his confidence, to fight against the tendrils of magnetic pull that weaved around your limbs.

“I know you turned my way like a plant does seeking the sun,” Nick’s hand slid beneath your dress. “Keeping so close, coming even closer each time, like an addict hopes to lick a single fleck of whatever gets him high.”

Cool rings pressed into your skin, spiking your heart rate into a paradoxical pasodoble between desire and trepidation. Just like the nights you used your own fingers to the image of Nick fucking you in the night garden.

“I know each time you thought I was coming to visit, you wore a shorter dress.” His fingers on your thigh inched further up. “This one today? If I met you inside the gardening center and you’d bend over to show me moss arrangements, I’d get a peek of your ass.”

He did get that peek.

When he bent you over his bed that night. After having you sign your name on all the legally (illegally too, undoubtedly) binding documents as a paid, stoic-faced registrar officiated your wedding. The ink was deep red, as blood that one spills for the devil.

Red was also the wine Nick brought to your lips in a crystal glass. The rich, thick taste of it was a bland mist compared to the burning magma of Nick’s lips against yours, molting away the taste of your previous life as he sealed your contract.

One hand on the nape of your neck, holding you in place as he fed you his sinful tongue, the other buried beneath your sundress. Firm, relentless fingers eliciting tangy, warm rain from between your thighs; watering the soil of the garden filled with plants that you picked. That you loved and Nick provided for you.

He made you mark the land as yours, as he marked you as his. Your voice an enchanted cry of spell that was Nick’s name.

Then he took you to the bedroom - the heart of the underworld kingdom.

Though the dark interior sent a ripple of unease down your spine at first; it was like stepping into a cold, mountain stream after days of hiking in blinding sun. Then the jewel undertones of onyx and cuprite engulfed you. Shimmering black curtains of the canopy parted its wings for you, as Nick led you to the bed.

You never strayed from dirt, but it only stained your hands and clothes as you worked with soil. The dirt spilling from Nick’s mouth as he took you seemed to twist your body into inhuman arches of pleasure, reshaping your mind so it became greedy for the sizzling impulses his filthy words elicited.

Tightest cunt.

Delicious hole.

Breedable pussy.

Mine.

Tears trickled down your cheeks - a salty passage from a girly life of obedient silence into empowered if dark womanhood. Briny dew altered into shy sweetness as your moans stretched, tears turning into those of overwhelming pleasure.

Nick showered you with it. With his tongue and fingers; with his cock that filled you with girth and the precious spent he cursed to take root in your womb.

He led you like a queen, just like he promised, once you were able to stand on your trembling legs after hours of being both worshiped and owned. A silk robe in a color of a red so dark it might as well be woven from arterial blood floated around your frame as Nick took you into the garden.

His fingers intertwined with yours. His pace adjusted to yours, not once rushing or slowing you down.

Focused on admiring the beauty of silvery moonflowers and creamy bells of Angel’s Trumpets, you didn’t notice Nick’s eyes were only on you.

#biteofcherry's birthday banquet #nick fowler x reader #nick fowler x female reader #nick fowler x you #nick fowler imagine #nick fowler fic #hades x persephone AU #my writing #sweet and stained

381 notes · View notes

dema-heart · 2 months

Text

Persephone & Hades

Persephone gn!reader x Hades Hobie

Spring is here, and with it, persephone must leave the underworld.

I tried to keep it gender neutral. There is the use of the terms goddess and queen when referring to the reader. However, it's more in title than actual feminine meaning.

CW: Mentions of ichor and selfharm very briefly.

"I'll be leaving you soon, my heart," you whisper the words into the shadows. Knowing he'll hear you. Knowing he's always with you as long as shadow and shade can reach you.

You're leaning against the wooden frame of your gazebo over looking your kingdom, your chosen home, the underworld. You smile, looking out at the vast dark lands lightened by the homes of your people.

Shadows nip at your fingers and trail up your arms before the feeling of your lover's warmth wraps around you.

"I know... I know, my world." his rapsy voice was laced with sadness, but his silky touch was a welcome comfort to the cold, although you'd grown accustomed to it.

"Persephone..." Hearing your name pulls your focus to him, Hades, king of the underworld or as you called him.

"Hobie, my love," you turn in his embrace, looking into his saddened eyes. Raising a hand to rest on his cheek, you smile as the fearsome king leans into your touch, eyes closing in content.

"When do you leave?" He places a kiss to your palm, sighing as he forces the words from his mouth.

"Not long from now." You give a sad smile as you watch your love's face drop. "Hermes will be here to escort me back to the mortal realm soon."

Sighing, his hand comes to rest on yours against his cheek, cupping it gently before pulling it away enough to place another kiss to your palm, then soft pecks to each of your fingertips. A shiver racks your body, and he peaks at you from the corner of his eye, mischief lighting up his face.

"We could always stage a kidnapping. I'll lock the doors and tell them I've decided to keep the goddess of spring all to myself. Any who dare attempt to get you will have to face the wrath of the underworld." He smirks, and the shadows of the land seem to flicker and roar with agreement.

You shake your head with a playful smile as he steps back, not letting go of your hand, bowing as if asking for a dance.

Laughing softly, you bowed back, allowing him to pull you to him with a twirl.

"We'll change your clothes and sneak you out the back before Pavitr arrives. Take you further into the realm where there's a small house waiting for just us." You laugh in glee as he dips you, the shadows around you whiping up as if to catch you.... or maybe swallow you up and hide you just as their king wishes. You lean your head back with a bright smile and unconsealed laughter, allowing the shadow's cool, wispy embrace to surround you. Letting them know they are seen and your joy is as much for them as it is their king, before Hobie pulls you up, holding you tight, as the shadows disperse, a hum of happiness in the once sullen air.

"Or we can sneak up to the human realm. where you can grow vast gardens and capture the heart of every living creature that comes by with your kindness and grace." There's a playful smirk on his face as he looks down at you.

"Which will it be your higness. At your command, I'll make it so." His tone is playful, but there is an underlying threat.

You know if you say you never wish to go anywhere without him, that your body aches at the thought of leaving him for these six months, he'd make it to where you never had to leave again even if it meant defying Zeus and all the other gods.

Your eyes lock as he waits for your answer. His gaze giving away his need for you, the same need and longing you're sure shows in yours. But instead of sealing your fates, you smile up at your king sweetly.

"It may have worked once, my king, but I do quite enjoy the mortals alive as much fun as they are when they get down here. And just as we need one another, my mother needs me." Your hands bunch the front of his tunic to pull him into a passionate kiss.

He obliges, leaning down slightly, letting you kiss away his sorrows for at least the moment.

Pulling back from the kiss, you step away from him, holding his hands now instead as you smile up at him.

"Hobie, my heart. Just a ichor flows through my veins. Your name is engraved in my heart. For my love for you is endless and always. For you allowed only once for tears to claw down my cheeks, for the golden blood in my veins to boil so hot with trepidation that even the sharpest thorns burned as they tangled around me, frenzied in my attempts to free myself from the anguish. You watched as Ichor bubbled from my skin and pooled in my hands like molten lava burning and poisoning everything in its wake, and you made me a queen, your queen. Took me against my will only to show me a freedom I'd never even dreamed of. You saw me for not what I was but who I could be, and for that, I will return to you in just six months. For that, I will always return to the place I now call home and the man who made it so."

You make this vow to him the same as you have done before. Tears pooling in your eyes that you refuse to let drop. You are not saddened to return above, missing the sun and those you called family, but to leave behind your heart to the cruel loneliness that comes with being king of the dead, a title not taken but forced.

You hold back a sigh, feeling him squeeze your hands. You open your eyes, not even realizing you had closed them.

One of his hands comes up swiping away your tears before they had the chance to drop.

"Persephone, my world. You have the ability to turn the darkest shades a blaze. The coldest places warm. And you are my own personal sun. You shined your light across our realm and showed me a world I'd never seen before. Just as one plucks a pretty flower, I saw you that day as tears streaked your face and anguish soured your soul but still your head was held high even as ichor drizzled your arms like honey, for the first time I'm sure. And I knew you had to be mine. If not, then at least my kingdom's for you deserved a status befitting the power you displayed in your darkest moment. I will forever be grateful you took the Pomegranate seeds from the fruit I bore, even if it was just due to hunger. Without you and the love you bring, I'd have been lost in the darkest corners of my kingdom, never to see what could have become of it. You will always have a home here...for everything, including myself, belongs to you here."

A passionate tension fills the air around you. It is as if only the two of you exist in this moment. Fingers entwined the same way your souls are. You hold each others gaze, neither willing to break the tranquil moment.

"Awwwwwwww, aren't you two just the cutest! Almost makes me sad to separate you buuuuut i am the messenger god, and my message just so happens to come in the form of the goddes of spring to one waiting and sorrowful mother!" Pavitr playful voice cuts the tension in the air with ease. He sits on the ledge you'd been looking out on, smiling brightly as you both turn to him with amused looks.

Hobie huffs, slipping from your grips to greet his friend with a playful shove before pulling him into a hug. "Pav, always good to see you."

Hobie playfully looks back at you before stage, whispering to Pavitr. "How much to get you to leave Persephone here and swear you never saw them. I mean also being known as the god of tricksters...." He's got his arm over Pavitr's shoulder, both facing you with matching grins as Pav pretends to think on it.

You shake your head, smiling at their antics. "Come now, Pav. Before the King gets us in trouble." You reach out your hand, and Pav is quick to fall into step with you looping your arms as you lead the way.

"Sorry sir, but an orders an order, and I could never reject a request from the goddes of spring, almighty ruler of the underworld. As you know, what Persephone wants..." Pavitr teases snickering along with you as you look at Hobie expectantly.

"...Persephone gets. yes, I know. I'm the one who started that." Hobie rolls his eyes with a fond smile, as you beam standing tall with mock arrogance before walking away with elegance, leaving behind the echos of your laugher and the smell of fresh floral earth.

Just as you leave his view and the shadows seem to darken, he feels the gentle caress of something winding up his arms, and the smell of flowers and fresh spring air surrounds him the same way the shadows had comforted you.

He looks down to see thin, leafy vines curled around his forearms similar to the arm cuffs he typically wears. Smiling as the scent of home surrounds him, he disappears into the shadows of the gazebo already anticipating your return.

#hobie brown x reader #rainbow's bookshelf #Hades Hobie #persephone reader #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown x fem!reader #greek gods au #Pavitr as hermes?? maybe

107 notes · View notes

help-im-a-gay-fish · 7 months

Text

*sigh* love is blooming <3

Yeah I bring back the Greek gods au, this is a comic I've been working on since July, *tugs collar* everyyyything is working slower lol

Decided that Dream's powers are tied to his emotions, and the flowers bloom all over him when he gets embarrassed or excited ;)

POV You had an arranged marriage for the benefits and now you are getting a crush on your husband.

Original nightmare and Dream by jokublog

Greekgods au is by me

Google says that Reaper was created by Ren? Forgive me if that's wrong

@zu-is-here i said I would tag you :)

359 notes · View notes

arcielee · 1 year

Text

She Walks in Starlight

Summary: A goddess comes to ask for help to save her friends. Paring: Aemond!Hades x OFC!Persephone Word Count: 4358 Warnings: Mention of character(s) death. It’s HotD and Greek mythology, so there will be incest. Author's Note: So, the whole Aemond as Hades trope has been done before BUT NOT BY ME so lets go. My inspiration came from this Aemond drawing: artist. It’s so nifty. Also, huge shout out to @aspen-carter for her ceaseless patience and helping me edit this. I am so grateful to have her as a friend because her writing is just top tier and her insight is so wonderful. ♥ Also! Gō vys is Valyrian for Under world. Enjoy! Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @sirenofavalon @annikin-im-panicin @aaaaaamond (slash means I am unable to tag you) Series: Act I - Act II - Act III

ACT I

“Little goddess, you are far away from where you belong.”

This was the truth spoken, for she never before dared venture away from her mother’s watchful gaze, never pressing beyond the boundary she swore she implemented for safety. Today it was fate that propelled her soft steps to follow the trodden pathway that wove from her realm into his.

His tone was low and voiced with authority, but she did not feel threatened despite the grim scenery she now found herself in. The Underworld seemed just a shadowed, desolate reflection of the mortal realm above; it was not shroud in darkness, mostly void of pigmentation save the veily blue hue that enveloped all around. She watched the souls make their way towards the ferryman, unaware their fluid steps were not solid against the grey sand that spread the shore of the river Styx.

“Aïdōneús,” she used the ancient moniker, for who else would be present other than the lordship to the realm of death? She spoke his name as she heard from the hushed whispers of the mortals, who were afraid to misstate and bring unwanted attention from the king of the dead. For her, it was an ancient tongue known to the gods and it spilled like a sweet nectar from her wet lips. She pressed on the ball of her foot to turn and face him.

Throughout the ages, many adjectives have been used to describe him and beautiful was the first to her mind.

The contours of his face were sharp as the marble stones that the mortals would carve the gods’ likeness into and it gave a severity to his expression. She saw the left side of his face, marred from his heroism from the tales of the Titanomachy, with a gash that began above his brow and cut through, curling into his cheek. His bravery had been rewarded with his kingship of the Gō vys and a brilliant sapphire stone that was set into his scarred socket.

Cold and stern, was often used, a firm accountability held for the laws held. Monstrous. Menacing. She assumed these descriptors were spoken by cowards, for all she could see was an esthetical deity.

He towered over her, his arms were tucked behind his back and it emphasized his broad shoulders. Silver scars littered over, brilliant streaks in contrast to the plum chiton draped over his lithe figure with golden thread knotted around his slender waist. The dark tones he wore gave a luminous intensity to his alabaster skin, like a godly beacon in the realm of grey.

He kept his distance, but she saw his head tilt from the gleam of the red ruby set in his crown and the soft glimmer of his silver tresses that spilled forward with his subtle movement.

“I have come to ask you something,” she continued, her voice unsteady, but her eyes boldly returned his steady gaze.

There was a haunting beauty to the mismatched coloring of his stare, his lavender eye and the glint of his sapphire eye, that caused her heart to reverberate within her chest.

“You traveled all this way to ask me a question?” His baritone continued and there was a flicker of amusement, the slight curl to his lips with his mellifluous words. “Please ask so I may best assist the goddess of spring.”

She felt the flush of pleasure. He knows who you are, the thought flutters throughout her head and she cannot stop her smile. “I wanted to ask if it was at all possible for a soul to be returned to the mortal realm?”

A low hum rumbled in the back of his throat and he took a deliberate step to close the space between them; the flicker of amusement is gone, his expression now as cool as the marble it was carved from. “This cannot be done, little goddess,” his silver words carefully chosen for his silver tongue. “It is the fate of every mortal to die and once that threshold is crossed, they cannot return to that life.”

Her renewed grief comes with its sickening hold, clenching her heart and the threat of tears pricked her eyes. She swallowed thickly, only then breaking her bold stare and instead she looked over the spirits that continued forward, awaiting their turn to cross.

It should have been me.

“Who did you lose?”

His soft tone pulled her attention back and she can see his brow is furrowed. “My friends,” she refused to cry in front of the king, no matter the kindly concern etched onto his features in the moment. “They were taken suddenly and do not have the gold to pay the passage.”

He hummed a second time, still low but thoughtful. “They are not yet lost, little goddess,” and the familiar curl of his bow lips gives her the flutter of hope. “Come back tomorrow and we can see what may be done, but,” his gaze rolled over her, locking onto her face once again. “I would advise not to return empty handed when you come to beg a favor from the king of the Underworld.”

+ + + + + + +

He dared teased the goddess of spring and then he relished in her response to the reminder of such a timeless courtesy. The rose coloring flushed her ivory tones, her embarrassment clashed with the thrum of her vitality beneath and it brought out the sun speckles across her nose and cheeks.

How divine the thought of his lips to kiss each one.

She left chagrined and he was certain he would not see her again, save the movements when he would slip to the surface for a reprieve from the dead, a shadow in watch of the gods who resided in the mortal realm. He had not expected her to return the following day and with a basket she showed was filled with delicacies of cheeses, olives, figs, and more.

He saw her coming, her steps almost familiar with the pathway that led to his realm. “You returned, little goddess,” it was a statement more so than a question.

“I have, Aïdōneús.”

Aïdōneús. A name long forgotten, spurned from the fear it held amongst mortals, but she was dauntless with her pronunciation, just as she was bold with her stare. It was the sweetest sound, both familiar and unfamiliar, a sound that he would spend his immortality to follow its every behest.

Even though her tone was cool, he noted her white knuckled hold on the wicker basket. “I have returned and I have brought you an offering,” she continued, shifting her weight to rest it on her hip. “You also may call me by name or you may call me Kore, if you desire.”

Desire. There is an unbridled fervor in his gaze as it rolled over her curves, so sinfully wrapped in the peplos linen but his posture remained reserved, his arms crossed behind and one foot stanced.

“As you wish, Kore.”

He did not say another word and his hand reached for hers; he was pleased that she took it without hesitation and his skin prickled from the warmth of her palm. He whisked her forward and he felt her grip tighten, looking back to see her eyes wide from the abrupt movement. He pulled her closer to his chest, his other arm wrapping around her waist with a firm hold.

He brought her to a pomegranate tree that is curled on a ledge overlooking the knolls of silver grass, decorated with aimless spirits.

There was almost an ache when he released his hold and he kept his arms open, watching to make sure her steps are balanced on the solid earth. “I apologize,” his voice was almost sheepish with his realization. “I am so used to getting around and I forget…”

He is grateful that she does not press him to finish his thought. Instead, he fell back and watched as she spread the cloth, the white billow of fabric that settled on the ground, and placed the basket in the center. She offered to pour him a glass of wine and only then does he take a seat, breaking the bread, while he shared that their view is the asphodel meadows where good souls reside, a neutral ground for peaceful spirits.

He wanted to bring her here and show her. “This is where your friends will eventually be,” he finished, lifting his goblet to his lips.

Her eyes watched the bob of his neck as he drank the wine and she admitted, “This seems so dreadfully dull for the good souls.”

“They no longer have the tedious shackles forced on them from the mortal realm,” his lips curled upwards with his further explanation. “They feel nothing and this allows them contentment to wander these fields.”

Her nose scrunched. “I understand this,” she breaks a piece of the bread, allowing the wine to dye it red. “That, however, does not change my initial opinion.”

This is a moment that broke through the kingly demeanor that he carried with his every step, his every movement within the cosmos. She watched, wide eyed and rosy, as his laughter lines his cheeks with dimples, the king of the Gō vys has dimples! She savored the genuineness of this moment and she cannot help but giggle as well. “It is beautiful, though,” she continued with a shy smile. “I see why you chose this spot.”

His demeanor darkened and he smirked. “Kore, this pales in comparison to your springly creations. I only brought you to show you the bit of vegetation that can survive within my realm.”

She tilted her head upwards, looking at the deep burgundy of the ripe pomegranates that hung low on the branches. “Are they edible?”

He leaned onto his side, propped up onto one elbow and his fingers traced the decoration of the gilded goblet. “It is, but without the same savory flavors as,” and he gestured towards the basket that slowly empties with their picnic. “There is a cost of their consumption,” he cannot help the edge of bitterness to his voice.

Her eyes widen, not with fright but curiosity, to the animosity of his words. “What is the cost?”

“Anything eaten or drank chains you to the realm,” he answered, solemn, and was surprised by the glint in her eyes.

It draws his gaze to her and, again, he can see the thrum of her ichor beneath her ivory skin, her eyes focused on him and framed with dark lashes, her stare as dauntless as earlier.

“It is the cost to rule a kingdom,” she offered, blinking and it is seemingly gone, her expression now doleful as it looks over the silver hills that spread infinitely before them. “It is better than to be destined to be the forgotten goddess, tied to her mother’s shadow and just a decoration who nurtures flowers.”

He was watchful in this somber moment; there was a silence that was not uncomfortable, but he felt the returned fervor from before to ask more, to understand more. There was a tingle in his fingertips to reach for her hand, to knit his fingers so perfectly with her own, just so she may remember she was not alone.

Instead, he waited.

She pulled herself to stand and reached her hand towards him, the radiance of her smile returning, a divine glow amongst the eerie meadow. “Come and show me more of your kingdom.”

And he obliged her.

+ + + + + + +

Time, she learned, was different in the Underworld.

She allowed herself to tour the Gō vys, tucked so close to his side and allowing him to show his kingdom, from the Asphodel to the Erebus, to watch the passage of Acheron and learn the ferryman was men, twins who let a foolish misunderstanding result in the simultaneous slay and he offered them an alternative to serve him. She met Vhagar, the rumored three headed beast who in truth wished for belly rubs and she happily inclined.

There was a panicked realization when she resurfaced and saw the moon bore overhead. Her steps were quick homewards, muttering prayers to Gaia, to Rhaenys, to whomever was listening and she begged her mother would be unaware of the time lost.

“You smell of death.”

Rhaenyra was the golden goddess of harvest and fertility, her mother the very embodiment of the sacred laws of the cosmos. Her eyes narrowed on her arrival, but she managed only a hint of anger to touch her overwhelming interrogative tone. “Where have you been, Kore?”

She hummed a lie, something enough to dissuade further suspicion her mother may hold, just a silly little goddess who had gotten lost within the cosmos. She continued to add another promise she would never dare return.

This was another lie.

“Aïdōneús,” she greeted him the next day and was pleased with his expression, which was almost incredulous at her return.

“Kore,” he responded with the same warmth, the curl of his lip when he reached for her hand. She allowed him to take it without thought, a blush crept over as he brought her knuckles to his lips, the tickle of his breath to her skin. “Please, I meant to say this yesterday,” he did not release his hold, his dichromatic gaze watchful. “You may call me just Aemond, if you wish.”

“Aemond,” and she said his name with the same sweetness and reverence, enjoying her familiarity with the king and how the rose color dusts his cheeks when she repeats it. “I admit, I have come to ask another favor.”

“More souls you wish to return to the mortal realm?”

He regretted his words the moment they left his lips, when he saw the pain that danced across her eyes. His apology was caught in his throat, the explanation for his tasteless jest, but she already shook her head and that pain was gone.

“I wish to show you a place that is dear to me,” but her tone is careful. “Are you able to come with me to the mortal realm?”

I would go anywhere you asked of me, he does not say and instead he nodded, the shimmer of his silver hair. “I can leave, though not for long periods of time,” he shifted his gaze. “It is a tether to the Underworld. There is a pull, almost an ache, that grows the longer I am away.”

A smile returned to her lips, pink and inviting. “I will not keep you too long from the duties of your kingdom,” she promised and offered her hand to him.

Traveling within the Gō vys requires a celerity to his movements; there is a rush of wind with his quick motion from one place to the next, whereas she seems to frolick, pulling to keep him at her pace as they flit from the shadows and move towards a small isle. At first glance, it only holds the wreckage of the temple to appease the averter of evil, its ruin ironically from a temper tantrum of the gods.

“But why here?” Aemond was curious as he looked over the cracked stylobate and the broken pillars split, with stone embedded into the soft earth around them.

“There is beauty in the broken,” she smiled and pulled him to follow. “After Daemon and his temper tantrum, the mortals abandoned it, but I wished for it to blossom with new life.”

He watched her climb over a fallen pillar and she peered up to him, beckoning him to follow. He dropped softly at her side, while the soft echo of her words, there is beauty in the broken, remained in his ear. Aemond saw her focus was ahead and he followed her gaze.

His eye followed the curl of a turquoise moss that curled and decorated the stones, blooming with pastels. It continued to the reflection of the morning dew glittering off the almost iridescent petals, gleaming brilliant in the rising run; it showed the sea scheme of colors that stretched around them.

She was the goddess of spring, of vitality personified, and he is the darkness. But in this serene moment, there was an emotion, an almost tangible passion that entangled with the ichor of his veins when she reached for his hand again.

There was a spark as their palms fit together, as his slender fingers curled around her hand. “It is beautiful,” he said and his tongue wet his lips.

She peered at him, the flutter of her own heart when she saw how his features softened in the intimacy of the moment, a satisfaction to be privy to the reserved pleasure that played on his face. There was the intrusive thought that begged her to touch his jaw, to press up to her tiptoes and dare to taste his mouth, and she wished to bring back a piece to his kingdom, just so she could relive the hint of his smile on his lips.

“It is,” she agreed, tucking the thought away.

+ + + + + + +

That night, she tucked herself into the athenaeum to pour over the scrolls her mother stored away, with Rhaenyra both pleased and proud of her rekindled passion for her role within the cosmos.

Kore did not correct her. She needed her focus to return to what initially brought her to the Underworld, the fate she shelved and the growing burden with that neglect. She told herself that Aemond would be more amenable with an offering more tailored for the god of death, but in truth, she also wished to understand the growing thrum beneath her breastbone whenever she was within his proximity.

There was a simple spell that would serve both.

Though he would never admit to waiting for her, she was still pleased to see him on the edge of the plane, close enough for the sunlight to touch and give an ethereal glow to his chiseled features. There was a gentle breeze through his silver, silk tresses and she stopped her steps so she could admire him, the glimmer.

He tilted his head. “Kore, what is it?”

“Aemond,” she breathed. “You really are beautiful.”

His jaw steeled with the compliment and she was quick to grab his hand, leading him below like a silver beacon into the blue hue of the Gō vys. Once they were in the shadowed realm, she turned to press against his chest, her softness melting against him and with her whisper, “Aemond, take me back to the meadows.”

He, of course, obliged her.

There was a comfort with how his arms, so strong and lined with silver scars, wrapped around her waist with a hold she knew could be trusted. The jarring movement still caused her stomach to lurch, but it was quickly replaced with the exhilarating rush and her laughter spilled from her lips. Only when she felt the tickle of the silver grass beneath her soles did he finally release his hold of her and they were back beneath the pomegranate tree.

She curled with grace onto its roots and beckoned him to follow. He paused for a moment to appreciate how her robes nestled against her curves before he sits, close enough, with one leg up to rest his forearm on and the other arm pressing himself upright, his palm resting on the earth. His expression begs curiosity, but he is quiet.

Kore and her sweet smile elicited his hummed response and he watched as she began to rub her palms together. A soft glow emitted between and her focus returned to Aemond, a golden goddess with the light, before she pressed her hands to the ground. Her eyes closed for a moment, her thoughts poured into the practice incantation with the wordless flutter of her lips.

She opened her eyes and smiled again, his gaze shyly dropped to watch her hands lift and reveal the bolt of green that begins to stem upwards. He watched as its leaves unfurled and the red bulbs bunched together began to blossom.

His expression is one of awe, his jaw slack from seeing the life sprout from the grey earth and flourish with color before him. Aemond looked pained when she reached to pluck one, cupping it in her palms with a whisper, the same golden glow, before she presented him the enchanted flower, the petals unbruised and a vibrant red.

“This will match the ruby in your crown,” she explained, shifting her weight to look at him.

His expression was stoic, just a red reflection in his sapphire eye. “What are they called?” He asked when she opened his palm, his fingers spread as if his touch would shatter it.

“These are called snapdragons,” she shared, her pride aglow with her creation, her validation. “They are able to handle the cooler weather, but their lifespans are not very long, which is why,” and her fingertips tickled his palm as she picked it up, careful to pin it to his chiton, “I made this one for you. This one will never wilt.”

His gaze fell to it, his slender fingers pressed into the fabric around where she snugly fastened it, still cautious to touch. “Is this magic?”

He did not see the touch of pink to her cheeks, how she hemmed for her words to reply to him.

She sought out this spell in the archives of her mother’s anethum, that would allow a flower to eternally hold its blossomed vibrance with a condition in place, an emotion from the spellcaster, something that hinted its existence from the day they spent together at the temple.

An emotion she felt irresolute to share now.

She had thought it to be carnal at first. Desire, the unbridled passion that hummed within her when she first laid eyes on the god of death and his aery beauty. It was a fervor that burned within her as she drank his deliberate movements, the glimmer of his silver hair, the perpetual smirk that played on his pink, bow lips.

This will fade, she told herself. She returned, undeterred and with purpose to save her companions, the fate that brought her to the Gō vys to begin. With her offering rested on her hip, she allowed herself to be swept away in his arms, flitting further into his kingdom. It was his touch that sparked something more, the sweet candor of their conversation, how she swore his steady gaze able to see her bones beneath.

She felt confirmation at the temple ruins, from the moment she watched the colors of her masterpiece absorb into the exquisiteness he carried with him. She saw something, she felt something.

There is beauty in the broken.

He was a timeless deity that had seen the fall of Titans and she was only the little goddess of spring.

In part, she was proud of her power that grew, the vibrant glow of the snapdragon, but she also knew it stemmed from an emotion from her that he would never reciprocate.

So all she said was, “Yes. Magic.”

Her cheeks grew warmer still with his steady gaze, her silent prayers that he would not press for the truth of it because she knows she would never be able to lie to him. Aemond seemed to accept the words and then said, “I accept your offering, Kore. Tell me your favor and I swear I will do the best that I am able.”

So she spoke of the fate that brought her to the Underworld. “I wish to pay the passage for two souls.”

Her question did not anger him, but there is a sadness that crept to his features. “Kore, I would not be able to allow this,” he sighed, unable to look her in the eyes. “If I am to make an exception for you, I would have to offer the same courtesy to the rest and…” there is a pregnant pause, a moment that allowed her to choke on the emotion that threatened to break through and she saw the glimmer of silver when he tilted his head to watch her.

“Persephone,” he said with his low baritone. “Why do you ask for this? What brought you to my realm?”

She wore her shame like the chiton draped over her curves. Her tongue wet her lips as her mind tried for the words to express the suffocating guilt that built with her every visit. Begin at the beginning. On that day, there had been an enchanted flower that she and her companions, Baela and Rhaena, came upon.

“A flower,” Aemond hummed, his expression unreadable.

His comment left her feeling childish, ashamed to admit what followed. The flower seemed otherworldly, its petals glittered in the sunlight and beckoned to her, but she balked and stayed within the parameters Rhaenyra had placed. Baela and Rhaena teased at her sudden shyness, pushing beyond and dared to pluck it.

In return, the earth rumbled to split open and swallowed them both.

“I know that it was planted for me,” she finished, her fingers fidget with the rope tied around her waist. “What other purpose would an enchanted flower serve than to lure the goddess of spring?” Her cheeks were tearstained. “It should have been me.”

Aemond hummed again, the severity returned to his gaze and he looked away. She allowed herself a breath, the slow intake and exhale through parted lips, to relax her posture and rest her hands into her lap. He reached for her hand and she allowed him to take it.

It was with his touch that she could admit she loved him. There was a tenderness to his large hands, how his slender fingers were gentle to hold her own and the soothing gesture of his thumb making circular patterns on her palm.

“Kore,” he began and she looked up at him. “I will look further into this. I meant what I said that I am unable to return souls to the mortal realm, it is beyond my power, but I will find…” he hummed again. “Will you please come back tomorrow night?”

I will always find my way to you, but instead she only smiled, nodding her head.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #greek mythology hotd au #hotd au #aemond!hades #oc!persephone #slow burn #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond fanfic #thanks for reading #♥

510 notes · View notes