#prince!tom x reader

[sourholland]

Glamorous || Tom Holland

Part Twelve

Summary → In this Princess Diana retelling, you are working in a nursery school as an aid in London, as well as a part time nanny. With slight aristocratic ties, you choose to live a more normal and mundane life. When the Prince of Wales comes to know you and bring you into the spotlight, everything changes. Truths coming too late, lies straining your relationship, and the impending future of the country falling on your shoulders. Is this really the stuff of which fairytales are made?

AN → Ah so not so long of a wait but here’s another part, 1987 is upon Glamorous!! This was honestly probably one of the saddest chapters I’ve written for this story. Feedback is heavily heavily appreciated and let’s me know you guys want me to continue.

Pairing(s)→ Prince!Tom x Princess!Reader

Warnings → Strong language, Mentions of Sex, Infidelity, Depression, Mental Health Issues

Word Count → 2.6k

July, 1986 - I have loved you for many years

The gala was booming, those of the highest status perusing about happily.

Tom was off speaking to someone, leaving you to walk around the beautiful space. The interior was almost all gold, chandeliers hanging from every high ceiling. After so long, you thought you’d be used to such extravagance, but it never ceased to amaze you.

“Enjoying yourself, Princess?” A voice sounded behind you.

“Hm?” You turned, seeing a young man dressed in a black suit, speaking in a monotone voice you replied to him. “Oh, yes. I’m having great fun.”

He laughed loudly, it was nearly infectious. This man had one of those laughs that came from the belly, mouth wide open, cheeks flushed with color. This made you grin just a bit, holding a glass of champagne in your hand and looking over the crowd.

“Could I—”

“Excuse me, I’d like to cut in and steal my wife for a dance,” Tom’s voice sounded suddenly.

The man looked disappointed, his smile dropping. However, he didn’t protest. Tom took your hand gallantly, leading you to the floor when the soft music began to play as the orchestra began. Your gown was white with black floral decals, swooping at your ankles. Tom has always been an amazing dancer, it was infuriating to you.

“You look gorgeous,” he whispered into your ear.

“You’re already drunk,” you chuckled, annoyed.

“Not at all, just admiring how beautiful you are. It’s not fair, truly—how every single man in this room wishes to have you.”

“I’m no item to be had.”

His breath smelled of liquor, yet you had to remain smiling and happy for the photographers in the audience. Tom’s grasp on your waist tightened, the look in his eyes unreadable. If he hadn’t been so charming, you’d have slapped him in the face.

“Kiss me,” he murmured. “They’ll love it, kiss me, darling.”

“You’re an ass, you know that,” you whispered back to him.

In a moment of weakness, craving his approval or validation, you leaned into his arms and pressed a passionate, but classy kiss on his soft lips. Those watching did in fact love it, and those dancing around you loved to see the Wales’ happy and smiling as well. Tabloids had been merciless lately, putting your marriage on the front page of every magazine, headlining every fight that may or may not have happened.

Tom smiled as the kiss ended, but leaned back in once more for another chaste peck. You couldn’t help but to flush easily, somewhat pleased with his rare affection.

-

Both you and Tom sat aimlessly on the floor of the hotel suite, drunk and exhausted. His face was flushed, his cheeks scarlet. There was a staleness to the air, a buzzing in your ears, and nothing but the soft hum of the telly in the background. The gala had ended very late, leaving you both to stumble upstairs.

“Why me?” You began. “Why did you have to marry me?”

He finally looked at you, but said nothing. His eyes were glassy, lips swollen and pink. He was expressionless. It was a fair question, one you were eager to know the answer to, even if it killed you.

“Mother and father were relentless, I was indecisive. I knew I needed to get on with it. It was just—you were perfect. Everything a man could want, it was an easy choice.”

“But not what you wanted?” You breathed out unsurprised. “I was of the right blood, bred for it. A virgin too, I suppose. I was easy, something you needed to get on with. Though, not what you wanted?”

He took a long and swift sip of the open wine bottle beside him, pressing it to his lips hard. His knuckles went white from how hard he grasped the neck of the glass. Once he finally looked at you, it was clear as day what he would say.

“No, Y/N. Not what I wanted. I wanted to want it, I truly did.”

There was a stale silence to the room, white noise filling the awkward space. Tom would drink himself to madness, you thought. Everyone coped differently, perhaps.

“But I mean, Y/N—it’s not like you are living some miserable life, I mean look at you,” he chuckled. “Every man in the world dreams of having you, every woman wants to be you. To the entire world, you are perceived to have some fairytale love story, and you’re quite literally a princess.”

Why did everyone throw this in your face?

It wasn’t real, none of it was real. If it was, you would not be living the predicament you were. There is no Y/N Y/L/N anymore. She was gone, long gone the second she entered this marriage of absolute travesty.

Tom seemed to notice how his comment was not funny to you, easing up and little bit and beginning to say he didn’t mean it as a jab. Only then did you stand, breathing in deeply and calmly staring at him.

“Every single man in the world could want me, Thomas. It wouldn’t matter, but thank you for telling me how grateful I should be!”

“Y/N, I didn’t mean for you to—”

“Our relationship has fucking destroyed me! And believe me, I know that marrying a better man would’ve been easier, I know that it would’ve worked better! However, to everyone’s regret, to my own regret, my own frustration and pain—the only person I have ever loved is you.”

Tom stilled, his eyes fixated on the floor. There was intensity between you two, a sort of electricity that made you feel like it’d physically pain you to reach out and touch him. He hoisted himself up off the floor, you figured that this would end how every other argument between the two of you does.

Hot tears streamed down your face, you tried wiping them away furiously. Every fiber of your being was begging him to say something, anything. The way he was looking at you made you want to drop to your knees and beg him to want you. His silence was telling, though. You started for the door, suddenly self conscious of your sleep shorts and extremely oversized Queen T-Shirt that Freddie Mercury had gifted you himself as a gag joke at your last birthday party.

“Wait,” Tom choked out. “Stay, just—just stay, please?”

Turning to look at him, he walked the few steps to get to you and immediately wrapped you into his embrace. Hugging was most certainly a rarity from him, at least to you. He buried his head in your neck, and you stood stiff for a moment, unsure of what to do. His grip tightened around you like a child missing his mother.

“I wish I could love you in the way you deserve,” he mumbled into your hair. “I wish I could, I don’t know why I can’t.”

There was a crack in his voice, your arms reaching around him finally. There was an ache in your heart, you felt like a weary shell of a woman. Tom’s staggered breathing only made you want to break down farther into tears.

“Stay with me? Please, just stay with me for one night?” He looked you in the eyes pleadingly.

“Tom, you’re sloshed,” you sniffled out.

“Please?”

There it was. The thing that got you into this mess in the first place. Tom had something over you that made it almost impossible to say no, or see reason. He led you to the bed, both of you already dressed down. Then he sat down onto it and you did the same.

Laying together was not sensual in any way, you weren’t touching, only lying beside one another. Tom had turned off all of the lights, the room nearly consumed with darkness. He reached to touch your hand, but you pulled it back.

“This relationship has fucking destroyed me,” you repeated in a small, but clear voice.

“I know.”

-

January, 1987 - I know, you know, he knows

Something had possessed you to go and visit Sam in a spout of loneliness, only to find that he was not home once you arrived on his estate. Elizabeth, however, was in. She was so pretty, her smile was contagious. In the years you’d been able to know her, she had become a friend to you. Never close, though. She’d always been a bit reserved when it came to you.

Her pregnant belly was swollen with life when she invited you in for tea. The large inside was still decorated for Christmas, this made you smile. Elizabeth and Sam seemed like two very festive people. Her sitting room was dressed in colorful garland, the Christmas tree shedding pines still.

“Thank you,” you said as she motioned for you to take your cup. “I’m sorry to come by unannounced, I was sure Sam would’ve been in.”

“He’s been out a lot lately, engagements and such,” she smiled. “How is Tom? And the boys?”

“They’re grand, five and three now. Henry’s getting so big,” you gushed. “You’ll see, soon enough with this little one coming.”

Elizabeth talked for a few more minutes, asking about your life and more about the children. She was very careful around the topic of your marriage, seeing as every magazine in the world seemed to be talking about its downfall.

“Y/N, I have a question that I’ve wanted to ask you for quite some time and I hope you will excuse my bluntness, but know I won’t think any less of you regardless,” said Elizabeth.

“Go on.”

“Do you love Sam?”

This question was a shock to you, but it made sense why she was asking. Since your marriage had taken a turn for the worse, Sam had been a shoulder to lean on, and a friend. Elizabeth was only human to assume you meant more. Everyone in the family knows that your husband remains unfaithful to you, she probably assumed you wished to drive Sam to do the same.

“Lizzy, Sam is my brother. I love him like I love my own brother. If my friendship with him bothers you, please tell me and I will not continue to overstep any—”

“He loves you, Y/N,” she said aloud. “I know he loves you, he knows he loves you. I know he will never leave me, but I know when I’m looking into the eyes of the man I love and he’s seeing someone else.”

Elizabeth was not crying, not as you would’ve been in her position. She was calm, sipping her tea and waiting for you to respond. It was obvious that she’s been hoping to have this conversation for some time, even if it felt like an ambush.

When Sam had professed his love to you all those years ago, you vowed to never tell his secret. This was so long ago, though. He was a fully grown man now, with a wife and child on the way.

“Sam will never be unfaithful to you, Elizabeth, he cares too much for his family. I can assure you that I have never entertained anything more the familial and platonic friendship. I know what it’s like to be betrayed, and I know what it’s like to feel that way.”

“Y/N, I will only ask you this once and you have every right to say no, but would you please give Sam some space away from you? For mine and our child’s sake,” her voice was almost desperate. “I just can’t let my marriage turn into yours and—”

She stopped herself almost immediately.

“Mine and Tom’s,” you breathed, setting down your cup and standing up. “I see. Elizabeth it was nice of you to invite me in, but I must get back. Give Sam my best when he arrives home.”

“Y/N—”

“No!” You said as she tried to grab onto your shoulder. “I’m sorry, just—I am going to see myself out.”

The tears began as you reached your car, cursing yourself for crying over such bullshit. There was a part of you that wished to just never wake up, a part of you that hated the life you were living.

The only thing that brought you joy anymore was Henry and James, they were your only source of true happiness and love. Everyone else, even your husband, resents you terribly. After seeing Elizabeth, you felt like you were now losing your best friend. You simply couldn’t go against her wishes, however rude she was at the end of your visit. You would not be the downfall of your brother-in-law’s marriage.

The tears seemed to cloud your vision so badly it felt impossible to drive, pulling over you put the car in park and just sat for a moment.

“Fuck!” You shouted into the steering wheel, the only lone car on a winding empty road.

-

April, 1987 - Be a man

“You’ve been ‘round to check up on Y/N, yeah?” Paddy asked Tom, sounding casual with a twinge of seriousness.

“I’m heading over after I leave here, it’s been awhile, but yeah, I’d say. Why?”

They were walking around Paddy’s property, the hunting dogs trailing behind them in submission. Tom tried to visit his brothers more as of late, feeling them all getting older.

“I’ve heard things,” Paddy confessed. “About her, Y/N, I mean. That she’s doing things to herself, she’s always isolating herself and such.”

Tom grimaced, the family truly couldn’t mind their own business. However, Y/N’s problems had started to become more mainstream within the papers. He felt horrible, obviously, no doubt about that. This was just something he had no clue how to deal with, and Eleanor made him feel like he shouldn’t be worrying about her. Truthfully, he didn’t know how to feel.

“Tom, I don’t want to get involved in this mess of a marriage, but it is a marriage. She’s your wife, and she loves you. Clearly she’s got mental health problems, being in this family has seriously fucked her up.”

“She married into this family, she knew what she was getting into,” Tom tried to counter.

“She was just a kid,” Paddy snapped. “You know that. She was hardly older than me.”

“She was an adult!”

“I’m twenty four and you still call me ‘buddy’ and ‘kid’, for fucks sake! It’s been seven years, Tom. Own it. We all know mistakes were made when she was brought into this family. Why can’t you just fucking admit it? Mum does, father does!”

Tom ceased walking and looked at Paddy with irritation, shoving him back a little harder than a playful brotherly shove. Paddy pushed him back, followed by another shove by Tom. It only took one more good, hard press by Paddy that had Tom on his ass.

“Look, you’re my brother and I love you. But God! What the fuck is the matter with you? Go be a fucking man, Tom! You’re thirty years old, be with your wife and kids, Tom. It’s pathetic!”

With that, he trekked off towards the large estate, leaving Tom behind.

taglist - @ninacotte @justapurrcat @allthisfortommy @spideyspeaches @veryholland @teenagedisxster @itsallyscorner @tomsirishgirl @runawayolives @devcarlsons @thecodyexpress @kassey @casualprincess77 @outshineallthestars @readheadwriter @cleverzonkwombatsludge @sarcasm-and-stiles @liltimmyst @moniffazictress11 @sakaki-chaaaaannn @silscintilla

#tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #elle’s fics #tom holland #prince!tom #royal!tom #tom holland series #prince!tom x princess!reader #prince tom holland #prince!tom holland #prince!tom x reader #tom holland blurbs #tom holland blurb

[vsnyarbll]

I will never stop making these 1 2

#aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aegon targaryen #aemond x reader x aegon #house of the dragon aemond #aegon ii targaryen #prince aemond #tom glynn carney #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #aemond #aegon

[the-djarin-clan]

2022 / 2024

Tom is aging like whiskey... delicious. 🥃😋

#tom glynn carney #king aegon #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii #prince aegon #king aegon targaryen #king aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #hotd aegon #hotd #house hightower #house of targaryen #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen x reader #team green

[wheredafandomat]

Pledge Allegiance

Prince! Loki x female reader

18+ | contains a little smut

“There’s a guest here for you, your majesty.” Your messenger spoke, averting his gaze as he entered the room.

“Who is this guest?” You questioned, glancing at him.

“He said he’s a prince, should I tell him to wait in the—” he began before you interrupted him.

“Send him in.” You instructed.

“You want me to send him in? Now?” He asked incredulously.

“I don’t take kindly to repeating myself.” You answered evenly.

“Yes your majesty, sorrows.” He apologised before turning around and leaving.

You turned back towards the court painter, the silence resuming as he continued to paint you before you heard the door opening.

“Hello silvertongue.” You welcomed coyly as Loki stepped inside. His gaze darkened a shade as he took you in, laying sideways on the chaise lounge, nude, a thin layer of silk draped across your lower body shielding your modesty as you looked up at him.

“Y/n.” He greeted fondly, gaze meeting yours again as he stepped towards you before crouching down and taking your hand. “My queen.” He added, kissing the back of your hand before lowering it. You nodded chastely in reply as he stood again.

“And pray tell, how may I help you?” You queried.

“I’d prefer to speak in the absence of doting ears.” He answered, clearly gesturing to the other person in the room.

“Well you heard the man, he’s a prince” you turned to the court painter “make haste.” You ordered, flicking your wrist before the man scampered out. Turning back towards Loki, you picked up the grapes that were propped up in front of you. “Loki, would you like a grape?” You offered with a smile as you ate one. “I tend to grow quite peckish myself when posing for portraits” you spoke, eating another “and then these are just here, teasing me.” You snorted. Lifting one of your fingers, you gestured Loki closer before grabbing another grape with your free hand. Instead of crouching, Loki knelt in front of you as you fed him the grape with a wide smile on your face.

“How succulent” he complimented, looking deeply into your eyes once he finished the grape “a refreshing burst of sweetness.” He grinned.

“Now, away from flibbertigibbets, tell me what’s so important that you mustered up the dark energy needed to come here, surely it wasn’t just to pay me a visit.” You insisted.

“Can I not just simply visit you?” He answered bashfully.

“No.” You smiled as Loki stood up again.

“What’s so far-fetched about me coming here and paying a visit to the queen of a realm once promised to me?” Loki shot back, seemingly walking towards your unfinished portrait.

“What do you want?” You asked, smile falling.

“I remember when it used to only be me who painted you undraped, I was the only one you’d let see you so unclad” Loki reminisced as he looked at the painting “but I must admit, your court painter has done a splendid job at capturing your beauty y/n.”

“I could get him to paint you next, I’m sure he’ll be able to capture those sleepless nights under your eyes.” You snapped, sitting up as you pulled a silk robe around you.

“And she bites.” Loki smirked, turning towards you.

“Oh, I can do a lot more than just bite.” You answered, narrowing your gaze.

“Yes” he agreed “I seem to recall many of those sleepless nights were spent with you.”

“What do you want Loki?” You asked, looking up at him. Walking towards you, Loki stood in front of you, raising his hand to caress your cheek as he looked down into your eyes. Wordlessly, his thumb found your lips, circling them before he dragged his thumb down, your lips moving in the process before they were released, his thumb travelling lower. It ventured between the valley of your breasts and lower as Loki knelt back onto the floor.

“I find this more appropriate, a queen shouldn’t look up at a prince, especially not in her own realm.” He finally broke the silence.

“Even in a realm you insist you gifted me.” You spat.

“I did gift it to you.”

“I bested you.” You insisted.

“Did you?” He questioned, kissing one of your knees, lips travelling up your legs. Using one of his hands, Loki pushed them apart as he kissed your inner thighs. “Or did I let you win?”

Before you could even answer, your hands had curled into fists, fists that bored into the chaise lounge below you as you arched your back towards Loki, his name escaping your lips in a lewd moan. You moved further to the edge as Loki’s tongue ravished through your folds before his lips wrapped around your clit. One of your hands found the back of his head, fingers working through the knots in his hair as he suckled against your clit leaving you thoroughly pleasured.

“We are at war y/n.” He spoke between licks, not even lifting his head to speak.

“W-war?” You questioned, head thrown back with your eyes closed.

“Yes, a very real, a very merciless war.” He stated, lips smoothing over your clit as he spoke.

“And what can I do?” You asked, looking down at him. Without answering, Loki engulfed the bundle of nerves with his mouth again, making you moan out loud.

“There are two things” he began before you nodded “first, you could finish” he grinned, glancing up at you “refresh me with another burst of sweetness.”

“Loki” you sighed with rapture as he alternated between licking and sucking your clit. You could feel the pleasure swelling in your abdomen as he continued his victimless torture before your delight gushed out of you. Loki continued, slowly licking you until you pushed him away. Sitting back against the chaise, you tried to compose yourself as Loki stood. You closed your legs as you looked at him, wiping his face.

“And now I’m looking up at you again.” You noted.

“Secondly, I need your allegiance.” Loki answered seriously.

“My allegiance?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Was it not you who cursed me to an eternity by your side?”

“I simply saved your life.” He shrugged.

“Exactly, you saved my life. There’s no war where I fight against you Loki.” You assured as he crouched down again.

“Do you promise?”

“I promise” you nodded “do you want me to swear on it like when we were children?” You chuckled.

“Your word is enough.” He smiled, kissing the corner of your mouth. Turning your head, you captured Loki’s lips in a proper kiss, an uncouth one. It didn’t take long for him to join you on the chaise lounge, below you, holding you down against him as he lifted his hips, fucking up into you.

My favourite genre: random drabble 😂

Tags:

@lokisgoodgirl @thenotoriouserg @chantsdemarins @donaweasley @xorpsbane @mcufan72 @loz-3 @evelyn-kingsley @sailorholly @lovingchoices14 @lokiedokiee @noideakitten @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @lokiprompts @lulubelle814 @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958 @gigglingtiggerv2 @tmilover1993 @lyds247 @dustychinchilla74 @lokis-dark-queen @november-rayne @12-pm-510 @vickie5546 @newtomofgods @eyesbluelikethetitanic @lokiestorch @somewhereinthegalaxi @beautyb1ade @angelilacsworld @lokidokieokie @mushypork @iamlokisgloriouspurpose

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki (marvel) #oc fiction #loki fanfiction #tom hiddelston loki #loki smut #loki x you #loki x y/n #prince loki x reader #loki of asgard #Loki #loki laufeyson x female reader #Loki laufeyson #loki imagine

[smolvenger]

My Lord (Prince Hal x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: After you dance with another man, Prince Hal, your royal intended has a confession to make...

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ (fingering, p in v sex, doing it on a desk), historical inaccuracies for the sake of vibes, grammar and spelling mistakes, angst and fluff.

Dick-tionary: Smut starts at “Kiss me again, my dove,” and ends at "You pressed foreheads, feeling his warm breath and how soft his skin felt- comforting, gentle. "

Word Count: 3K

A/N: From @muddyorbsblr's request! It ended up being longer, oops. But enjoy!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

Despite your fine dress and the rich wine flowing, you felt somber at your betrothal ball. Not that the ball itself was a sad event. No, you were not merry from everything around you. It was all merry with the throne room decorated with flowers and jigs being played by the musicians. Your melancholy was due to your intended.

 Of all the good lords and gentlemen on this green isle, only one was destined to be the next king. And that was who you were going to marry. Your parents were thrilled when the king agreed to the marriage. They smiled and embraced you as an artist hugged their painting. They managed to sell you to the highest bidder.

His Majesty Prince Henry the Fourth of Lancaster. The highest bidder indeed.

 Or Hal, as the taverns ruffians called him. Hal. Riotous, dishonorable, pranking, thieving, tavern hopping, wench chasing, sack drinking Hal. Beautiful, princely, decadent Hal. Every time his brothers had to tell their father the truth of Hal’s layabouts…the king would turn red with fury. Not that you were surprised.

Even if the scoundrel you were going to call your husband had been kind to you these past few months. He would be by your side. And trying to win you over or get you to smile. Flirt with you- he did to hundreds of women at this point! No doubt! Your inner giddiness was mixed with a silent rage and you weren’t sure which would pop out first each time he got your hand and kissed it gently. Hal was beautiful. A handsome, handsome man who wore his doublets tight on his lean frame and walked with a swagger, his auburn curls freed about his head. There was a charm to his manner, and feelings were in you when you looked at him. Feelings you didn’t like. Feelings you didn’t dare name. 

For that, you remained polite. Never forward. Nice, but nothing more. For what else could you do? The world of court could be deadly and dangerous. The world’s eyes were on you. You couldn’t afford to make a reckless move.

Despite the garden walks and meals, there was that sliver of distrust. If you didn’t see him, he could be on the floor of the filthiest bar in Eastcheap passed out on the floor from drink. Or in a room with two tavern women in positions that would make a sailor blush.

And the last picture of him in bed with other women- it made you want to scream and sob and throw your goblet at the wall until it smashed into a hundred bits and then pick your skirts, march to the other end of the room, and slap him hard across his beautiful face.

You took a deep breath. 

It was just your imagination. Nothing actually happened. One inhale, then another exhale. The walls were grey stone, the candlelight yellow, and the music from a flute was playing something fast.

Why were you like this, you had to remind yourself! You didn’t like him! Why should that matter? You had to remember how much you didn’t care and didn’t like him.

 He could have every woman in England on their knees for him every night and you would not care. You would go about your merry way and when you didn’t have to squeeze out a son, you would enjoy the monetary benefits of servants, fine dresses, horses, gold, jewels, money to buy whatever thing you wanted, and the freedom to do as you pleased as queen.

You held your chin up. Only glad it was a lovely party. All were taking gentle sips of wine, sampling the roast boar, listening to lutes, and laughing over nothing. You felt like doing none. In a whole crowd of people, you felt alone, isolated, and cut off. Like a foreigner trying to make a friend but never knowing how to speak the language. They gathered and talked…and here you were. The most wanted and yet also the most unwanted.

Taking a deep breath, you continued to walk in to try to get your mind off of things.

There were dances as well. But you felt as if your soles were made of lead. For all were celebrating your marriage to this scoundrel.

This beautiful, delectable, leather-clad scoundrel. Looking at him across the room, something inside you churned. And you were frightened to name it.

 He was in the corner, talking to his brothers. You turned your eyes down. For the party was in swing and in a way, as if they forgot you were its purpose. They wanted to laugh and gossip and drink. Forget their worldly cares and be merry.

You brought your eyes up to search for him. Your heart beat a little harder seeing Prince Hal at the other end of the room. How delicious he looked. His tight leather jacket was the color of the wine. He preferred rougher, bawdier parties- that was why he was frowning as his father went up to talk to him.  And here you were, just to be tolerated as his bride. It seemed queenhood was a lifetime away, as was your marriage. For all of this fuss over you both being joined,   you couldn’t help but feel separated.

Taking a deep breath, you put both hands on your cup and took another sip, resisting the urge to gulp down your wine and let the alcohol take its effect.

As you walked in, the Lord of Warwick went up.

“My lady- here is my nephew, Thomas! He’s going to appear at Court more often!” the lord introduced.

You curtsied and gave a smile.

The Lord of Warwick’s nephew with his own blonde hair and blue eyes and skin that tanned. He was a polite, warm friendly boy. For having just met him, he left a good impression on you. The uncle even stepped aside to let you talk. Then Thomas held out a hand.

“They’re having dances. Would you give me a dance, my lady?”

“I would love to,” you replied.

You enjoyed his company as you danced. He was very good too- Hal himself had no “strength in measure” and was inches from always stepping on your toes the grand total of two times you danced. Passing between couples, joining, parting, and reasoning hands to the lute music. You felt at peace.

Little did you know Hal’s eyes were on you.

They were on you every time you the whole evening.

Prince Hal scowled. He was practically red with anger. The second the dance ended, he marched up to you. Thomas looked sickly pale and you felt your stomach drop. You never saw Hal himself have any anger and part of you was terrified. They always say it’s the ones who are never angry you watch out for. 

“My lord, what is the matter?” you asked after your curtsey.

“I would like to speak with my lady intended,” Hal ordered.

Thomas handed you over quickly. 

Amidst the ball, Hal grabbed your arm. Fie, his hand- large, beautiful hands taking a whole of your arm and dragging you to the hallways and through a door. Jesu, was he going to hurt you? Hal never once did anything that would harm you. He seemed too mischievous and cheerful to seem capable of raising his hand to a woman, much less you. There was a fierceness on his fast that made your heart race. You didn’t know if you were feeling lust, terror, or both at once.

The room was a study. The night sky shone outside, though there were lights from the torches and candles. None were inside-perhaps at the party. With tall bookshelves and desks, it would have been a comforting room had your heart been beating wildly against your ribs. 

He looked at you up and down. He saw your dress, how it formed you well, and hugged you in the right places. A warmth flushed over you, and you realized you were panting a little to deepen your breaths. But his face was still angry. Beautifully, beautifully angry.

“What, what is the matter?” you asked. Hoping to get this over with quickly.

“Quite a bit, that is the matter!” Hal replied, ruffling his curly hair.

You gestured at the door.

“My lord, they will notice we are gone. We have a party to attend to…”

Hal reached up a hand that he held in the air. You looked back at him. His voice remained soft, matter of fact, right to the bone.

“My lady, we have to discuss young Warwick. The way you were dancing at him, smiling at him.”

“Oh, him!” you said. You had deduced it. He just had to say it himself. 

“Yes! The look he was giving you like he would be falling before your feet any minute! Your smile at him! And you were encouraging him,  and I-”

“Are you jealous, Harry?” you interrupted, blurting out the obvious.

He turned a little pink.

“Yes, well- what if I am? Should I not be if a gentleman dances with my lady?”

“A lady can rarely turn down another man. My mother told me it is impolite to refuse a man’s offer to dance!” you reasoned.

Hal leaned closer to you.

“You have promised yourself to me, not him! You’re engaged to me!”

He paused and his mouth hung in mid-air. You saw his eyes were shining bright, he was…on the brink of tears. The jolliest scoundrel in all of England and…he was crying. When you imagined him with other women earlier…was that the very feeling he was having as well?

You closed the distance to him, you offered your hand and he took it.

“Hal, I am sorry. I didn’t think you would be upset or even care that I danced with him…” you consoled.

He brought up a hand and wiped a tear off with his palm.

“I forgive you, my lady. Only….That the way you were beaming at him, and not at me, I…I don’t even have words for it and- YN- it makes me angry because…because…I wish it were me you were smiling at…me and only me. That one smile. Then I’d know for sure that you’d love me and we could be find a way to-”

You gasped.

“What did you say?!”

Your face was closer to his, your voice even softer. He paused. His tears stopped.

“You…you love me?”

He flushed, hung his head low, and then back up.

“I do, my sweeting. I love you so much. I don’t know how else to say it or what speeches or things to give. If I am under your spell, I never wish to be out of it. I don’t ask you to love me back at all…I only ask you…you… pity me.”

His face was right before words. Your own mouth began to speak of its own accord. The music was softer, and distant, as if the ball was a world away.

“Hal…even with everything in Eastcheap, I…I… I…I cannot help but…but want to see you, and speak to you, I think of you and wonder what you are doing when you’re away. And I…I worry about you. I want you happy- more than happy, safe.”

He closed the distance and kissed you. The first kiss you ever had other than chaste pecks on the hand. You shuddered at it as he wrapped his hands around you, one hand crawling up your back. He knew his way around a woman’s body. And he knew what would make your knees tremble.  You melted into his arms, collapsing into the kiss, into the embrace. He tasted of wine, of freedom.

He let go. But it was as if something awoke that was long asleep. You let him keep his hands on you, to feel your body beneath your dress—one on your hip, fingers inches away from the most private, precious of places on you. You kept on babbling despite yourself.

“All the battles your father sends you on and… and…I was worried, worried you would die…worried something would happen to you- and then, the Eastcheap visits….I was worried…worried you and Doll would.”

“There were no whores. Not since we’ve met,” he replied.

You kissed him again, and you leaned closer to him, wrapping your arms to feel his back. Dizzy and drink on him. You heard his moan. 

He leaned back on a chair and had you straddle him. You gasped, feeling your legs come apart. Places between you were starting to dampen and it was just over where his most secret places were. You were never this close, this intimate with each other

“Kiss me again, my dove,” he commanded.

You kissed him again, his fingers crawling, up your leg. He found your hip and then moved you. You moaned from the friction, the touching and brushing of your bodies. 

But you wanted it, you didn’t stop him.

His hands were over you, greedily touching since you were all his now-his betrothed, his wife, and soon his queen- and he would make sure you never forgot it. He gave you a last grind of your hips. 

His hands desperately searched your clothes, trying to find the seams. But you were aching, going up for him, needing him.

“Hal- Hal!” you whispered

“And what if I do? I can’t bear it- the longer I’m with you, the more desire overcomes me- You drive me mad- I can’t, I can’t take it, my dear, my love-I-I have to ravish you, here-now-”

“Yes, you may…”

He slid aside the papers and books so the desk was clear. You swallowed, getting incredibly wet but excited with his flushed face. But his eyes determined, an animal after his prey. And nothing could tear him from his prize.

 He kissed you, prompting you to sit. He undid a bit of your bodice, pulling it down, finding your breasts. The cold air touched it as his pupils darkened over the sight of you. 

“You’re exquisite, darling, and you’re not his, you’re mine-”

Once they were revealed, he fondled them, thumb grazing over the hard nipples. You moaned appreciatively. All while he kissed your neck.

“Say it, say you’re mine,” he whispered.

“I’m yours,” you replied.

He then freed a hand. It moved up your leg.

“All of this, this beauty, it is all mine-and I’ll drive you there, until you cry out for all of them to hear.”

slid a finger inside and you gasped, feeling it stretch you. You gasped as he curled up- surprised his long finger could go so deep, and find a spot that brought so much pleasure and pain as he discovered the little nub inside you. 

“My- my lord!”

He kissed your neck again, then looked at you, smugness spread on his lips.

“Yes….yes, call me that.”

He gathered your skirt up and then undid his codpiece and released his pants, standing at full attention. You gave a small gasp at the sight of his size. He looked at you darkly, a new tone in his voice- deadly and commanding, a king to his whore

“You will be good and make it fit, every bit of it. And you will call me my lord.”

His hands made your legs come wide apart, he moved you up. He was slow, entering you, so you got used to it. You let out a moan, tugging onto him.

“Yes…take it…like a good girl…take it.”

He forced your legs further apart, sheathing you in with a grunt. You let out a sound, your insides penetrated, clutching onto him, feeling your bare breasts against his leather. Your blouse fell lower, exposing both. He then gave a first, sloppy thrust. Then he was seated inside you.

“My lord!” you cried out.

“There-there- I will make you scream it louder,” he growled.

Then he began thrusting—his moans in your ear. You dug your fingers into his shoulders and grabbed your hips, keeping tight. The desk made a sound as you did. It began slowly.

“My-my lord, oh- gods- yes, there, my lord-gods-gods blood-”

It then picked up, your breasts bouncing and your heart racing. All you knew was him, felt was him. You were moaning even louder. It was a desperate, animal. Pounding his hips into yours.

He released one hand. It found your nub between. You gasped. He then strummed it with each deep, forceful, desperate pounding.

“H-My-My lord I-I-there-oh-oh god-I’m-I’m going-going to-to die, but- don’t-don’t-don’t stop-”

“You’re close, you’re-you’re close, darling-call me that-yes-now-fuck,yes-yes-

“Say it, say it when you cum-I’m-I’m going to cum-cum inside- cum, fie, lady- fie, it’s on me now- cum, fie, lady -cum!”

He picked it up incredibly fast, you held onto him, your pleasure spinning out of control. 

“Yes- close, close- come on now, give in- let go-”

With a grunt, his seed shot into you and the release of pleasure broke inside you. You didn't say his title but gasped. The light had hit you and made everything duller, things spun, and you felt as if you were in oblivion. 

In a final whisper, you only whispered once more “My…my lord…” Your nails dug into him- your lord, your intended, your prince, and your husband. A marriage not sworn but already consummated.

He pulled out, and then cupped your face, “as you are my lady.”

You pressed foreheads, feeling his warm breath and how soft his skin felt- comforting, gentle.

He helped you off and then readjusted your dress so all was well. Making sure the blouse covered you up and that your skirt was in place.

“Are you not hurt?” he asked.

“Not a bit.”

He wrapped a protective arm around you, leading you out. 

“Here…we must return to the party…I will fetch us some wine.”

“And…you can have the next dance, my lord,” you said.

He smiled at you- not a naughty smile, but a kind, genuine smile that burst with love.

“As you have all of mine, my lady.”

His smile shone brighter than any candlelight. He gave you a last kiss before you were on his arm, returning to the party. 

#smut #carrie writes #prince hal #prince hal x reader #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston characters #angst with a happy ending #the hollow crown #prince hal fanfiction #prince hal x you #prince hal x y/n #prince hal smut #prince hal imagine #prince hal the hollow crown

[happilyhertale]

12 Days of Smuff

Dec 14th – Hand Holding & Dry Humping Hold on to me – Modern Daemon Targaryen

Dec 15th – Dreams & Dirty Talk Sweet dreams – Tom Bennett

Dec 16th – In Nature & Deep Throating Deep affection – Modern Daemon Targaryen

Dec 17th – Reassurance & Car Sex Driving home for Christmas – Modern Daemon Targaryen

Dec 18th – Letters & Lingerie Kink Words of Love – Modern Aemond Targaryen

Dec 19th – Future & Face Sitting Shared future – Daemon Targaryen

Dec 20th – Sharing a Drink & Toys Take it – Modern Daemon Targaryen

Dec 21st – Sunrise & Orgasm Control Morning delight – Aemond Targaryen

Dec 22nd – Swimming & Face Fucking Hot pleasure – Daemon Targaryen

Dec 23rd – Bed Sharing & Accidental Stimulation Warmth on a cold night – Daemon Targaryen

Dec 24th – A Fancy Party & Praising Good girl – Modern Daemon Targaryen

Dec 25th – Promise & Phone Sex Missing you – Modern Aemond Targaryen

Prompts by: @madmax8603

#12daysofsmuff #daemon targaryen #prince daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #aemond targaryen #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #tom bennett #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett smut #hotd modern au #modern aemond x reader #modern house of the dragon #modern!daemon targaryen #modern aemond #modern hotd #modern daemon targaryen #house of the dragon

[atrwriting]

lex's masterlist (by character)

hi friends :) thanks for stopping by

Draco Malfoy

Aemond Targaryen

Carmen "Carmy" "Bear" Berzatto

Frank Castle

Peter Parker / Spider-Man (Tom Holland)

Billy the Kid (2022)

(Young) Coriolanus Snow

Rafe Cameron

#billy the kid #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid smut #billy the kid x reader #tom blyth #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #kid antrim #william bonney #aemond imagine #house of the dragon aemond #aemond targaryen imagine #aegon targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aegon the second #aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #frank castle fic #frank castle x reader #frank castle smut #draco malfoy

[kyloremus]

editing aemond targaryen until 2024 i guess

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #houseoft #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd one shots #ewan mitchell #tom bennett #the one eyed prince

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Characters I write for: Aemond Targaryen, Billy Washington, Ettore , Tom Bennett and Michael Gavey. Maybe some Daemon Targaryen if I'm feeling like a ✨whore✨

General Taglist  | My AO3 | WIPs | Fic Recs | Ko-Fi

🌟 Requests OPEN 🌟 Request Rules

Aemond Targaryen

Billy Washington

Ettore

Tom Bennett

Michael Gavey

Between Fire and Stone (Daemon x Strong!niece | oneshot)

Ewan Mitchell Characters Fish and Chips Orders  12 Days of Smuff (Christmas Event): Aemond Targaryen, Billy Washington, Tom Bennett & Ettore 🔥

#prince aemond #aemond angst #Aemond x Reader #aemond targaryen #aemond fluff #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond smut #aemond x you #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen fic #prince aemond targaryen smut #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond x you #house of the dragon aemond #aemond the kinslayer #hotd aemond #aemond stannies #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen smut #tom bennett smut #tom bennett fanfiction #michael gavey smut #michael gavey fanfiction #ettore smut #ettore fanfiction #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters

[sourholland]

Glamorous || Tom Holland

Part Nine

| Series Masterlist |

Summary → In this Princess Diana retelling, you are working in a nursery school as an aid in London, as well as a part time nanny. With slight aristocratic ties, you choose to live a more normal and mundane life. When the Prince of Wales comes to know you and bring you into the spotlight, everything changes. Truths coming too late, lies straining your relationship, and the impending future of the country falling on your shoulders. Is this really the stuff of which fairytales are made?

AN → Feedback is appreciated:)

Chapt. References → Hospital Outfit

Pairing(s) → Prince!Tom x Princess!Reader

Warnings → Alcohol, Light Smut, Depression, Pregnancy

Word Count → 2.4k

October, 1983 - Longing for what once was

The remainder of the six week long tour that felt like so long ago was miserable, to you at least. To the public it looked beautiful, like it went swimmingly. Like you were head over heels in love.

It was a triumph either way, Australia adored you to such a degree that any sensitivity from the Prime Minister regarding the continent’s place in the Commonwealth was dismissed. You had enamored the people of both Australia and New Zealand. Tom was sick with jealousy even when you’d arrived home.

He was distant in the months that passed, he was still involved with her, involved with Eleanor. Your relationship was strained most of the time, sex was sparse. You missed the start of the tour, when you’d felt overwhelmed with love. You didn’t care about the public approval, you only wanted your husband’s affection.

Henry’s birthday came and went in September, he was one now. You would celebrate your twenty-second birthday in less than a month. Henry took his first steps, you’d videotaped it on a large bulky black recorder that you used for home videos. Tom was not there to see it.

-

January, 1984 - Lovers’ Quarrel

Switzerland under the constant snow and gorgeous conditions was exactly how you’d loved bringing in the New Year. With Sam and his fiancée, you and Tom took a ski trip to Liechtenstein.

Elizabeth was lovely, she had the prettiest of chestnut hair and brown eyes. You could tell he loved her, and that she was the one. They’d be married in the summer, which was very exciting to you. It was bittersweet to see a couple so in love and enthralled with each other, especially with the turn your marriage had taken as of late.

For the trip, you tried to be civil. Before you’d landed, you begged Tom to just be happy with you for once, to let it all go for awhile and enjoy each other’s company. He seemed to engage in this idea, for awhile at least.

The first day was wonderful, the snow was powdery and fresh. It was normal for you and Tom to sleep in different beds, though he came in and got ready with you that morning. He managed to poke fun at your brightly covered snow pants and jacket, as well as help you get into you boots once you made it to the resort.

Having been skiing your whole life, you didn’t need his help—but instead appreciated the rare gesture. You took the lift up to a double black diamond, teasing all the way up. The press were scattered across the resort, snapping photos and yelling questions all day long.

Sam and Elizabeth were great fun, she was an avid skier like yourself. She made it fun for you, having another girl to talk to. She talked so happily about her relationship, telling you how amazing Sam was. You smiled and nodded, knowing all of it was true.

Sam felt awful for you, for your situation. He stepped back, though. As far as the role of being by your side and calling all the time came. You knew it was because it wasn’t what a respectable fiancé did, especially when he’d previously felt so strongly about you. It was admirable of him, you never had any hard feelings.

Tom’s cheeks were pink from the cold, flakes of snow in his lashes every time he removed his goggles. His curls stuck to his forehead, lips red and a bit dry. He was handsome, so handsome you remembered why you were so encapsulated by him at the beginning.

Late into the afternoon, you were both stopped at the bottom of one of the mountains, parallel to each other and stationary. You couldn’t help leaning over and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, he smiled a little, touching your jaw briefly and chuckling.

That night was fun, you and Tom cooped up in your bedroom, wine drunk and giggling. It reminded you of the good times. He was always happier with you after a few drinks. And that’s the thing, if a man is only able to tolerate you after a drink, he’s not worth the trouble.

Perched on his lap, you felt his hardness underneath you. It had been such a time since you’d been intimate. He kissed your neck, and you touched his chest. Somehow he had lifted you and placed you on the bed in one quick motion, clothes came off and he was thrusting into you.

It was nice to feel that spark between you again, to be so close. It was an amazing night, one of laughter and sex. It didn’t last, though.

It never lasts.

Further into the week, press was reporting hearing you and Tom arguing from inside of the house off the resort your were staying in. Newspapers recalled some yelling from both the Prince and Princess, calling it a lovers’ quarrel.

Tom went back to sleeping in a different room for the remainder of the trip.

-

February, 1984 - A chance at happiness

The doctor told you that you were expecting, you’d have another baby around the end of September.

Tom took the news happily, with a close lipped smile and a loose embrace. There was no doubt in your mind that he loved Henry, you knew his reaction was because of you, because of the strain in your relationship.

He resumed his obvious calls and writing to Eleanor, you wondered how long he’d go on before he resumed his sexual relationship with her. You felt bad for her husband and children. They’d also suffered in this situation.

The Queen told Tom to let this pregnancy be the glue that keeps your marriage lively. She said to embrace it, make things right. The King had written to you several times, expressing concern about yourself and Tom. He said he understood how hard it must be, which offered you some peace, knowing he at least didn’t think you were crazy.

Sometimes you felt crazy.

The sinking feeling of wishing things were different came back slow, then all at once. You tried to ignore it, but couldn’t escape the pain that came with getting out of bed some days. It was weighing you down mentally, and nobody seemed to care. It was utterly exhausting to be made out as an attention seeking, whiny wife.

-

Mid-Spring, 1984 - Why is nothing ever good enough?

Tom went on and on about how he wished for a girl, he wanted a daughter. It was all you heard about at the start of your pregnancy, how he wanted one son and one daughter. At first it was endearing, how he’d become involved in family planning and thinking about your future with your children. Then it became incessant, why did he want a girl so badly? Couldn’t he settle for a happy, healthy baby

It didn’t matter after you’d seen it on the scan during an appointment, you’d have another boy. And you were nothing but thrilled about it, about another son. Debating whether or not to tell Tom, you decided to keep it to yourself. He would know soon enough. To preserve any last bit of happiness between you during this long duration of nine months, you left him to find out when you delivered.

He spoke candidly about the names he liked, they were all so dreary and not fit for a baby to you. Henry was quite cute, you loved it while you were pregnant and knew it was the right choice when you saw him. The King and Queen had to approve every name, especially with your children being so close in line to the throne.

It was a constant reminder of who was in charge of all decisions regarding your child.

-

Late into May, you visited a children’s hospital while doing a brief tour in America. It was the hope that after you gave birth, you’d be able to come back for a longer, more thorough tour. It was a tasking thing, hurting you to see such small souls in so much pain.

In a long checkered skirt and cream turtleneck, you walked the staticky, desolate white halls. It was pouring out, the breeze making it feel much more like March. Your bump was large, swollen with life. You, nearly six months pregnant, miserable most of the time and struggling everyday.

Though, here you were—appearing at your best.

The large group following you, consisting of press and hospital staff, guided you in and out of rooms. Soon you found yourself in a little girl’s room, laid in her hospital bed. She couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven. She had big round eyes, dark skin, and a bright smile. She had no hair, but a bright blue bow still sat idly on her head.

“Stacey, age ten. Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia,” the female doctor said as you approached her bed.

On the wall behind the bed was all sorts of decorations, pictures she’d colored, magazine cutouts, photographs of the young and popular actors and actresses appearing in big movies right now. There was Molly Ringwald, Ralph Macchio, Sylvester Stallone, etc. To the far side of the wall was a newspaper cutout of you in your wedding dress in 1981.

“Hello, love,” you greeted her, seeing her lift her hand and wave bashfully.

“Hi,” she smiled, her American accent standing out against your own.

The bulky cameras clicked incessantly as you went to sit on the edge of her bed, motioning as if to ask permission and receiving a nod. You smiled at her and sat, looking around her space once more and complimenting her decor.

“I adore all of this,” you complimented. “When I was small, I had my walls covered just like this in my bedroom.”

“Where did you grow up?” She asked, knowing it was somewhere in England, but still curious.

“English countryside, with my mum and dad, as well as my brother and sister. Do you have any siblings?” You asked, letting her take your hand and look at your wedding ring.

“I have five sisters and two brothers,” she told you.

If there weren’t so many reporters, you would ask what that was like, how it was to have a large family. It was too crowded, though. They were too close. She seemed enamored by you, it was sweet.

“I watched your wedding on TV,” she said. “I thought you looked so pretty like one of the princesses from a Disney movie, like Aurora or Snow White. Since they all married a Prince too, and you wore a tiara.”

You talked for awhile, much longer than advised. It was in your favor, though. Nobody could outwardly tell you to stop talking to her, and you didn’t want to. She told you all about her friends and school life, how she wanted to visit Buckingham Palace one day, her childhood crush on Prince Tom. She made sure to add that she was ‘way over it now’, and ‘not to worry’.

Departure was hard, she felt your belly and told you how much she couldn’t wait for you to have the baby. Kissing you on the cheek, you swept her into a tight embrace and told her to keep fighting, and that you were on her side. When the cameras got too close, you scolded the men holding them, telling them to back up or exit respectfully. That she needed space as well as anyone else.

Leaving for the washroom as soon as you stepped out of her room, a few tears escaped and you requested for her mailing information before you left. You hoped to hear from Stacey again, to offer her some more personal words of encouragement.

-

September, 1984 - The Spare

Henry began to notice your profound sadness with the progression of your pregnancy. Though, you felt happier in your marriage towards the last months of the third trimester. Tom was involved, he was helping, he was talking to the baby.

He loved his children, you knew that much. Henry often kissed your belly, telling the baby things in his babbling baby talk. Tom seemed genuinely happy for a short time, though the constant switches were growing exhausting to you. One moment he was all over you, in love and ready to be a family man, the next he was isolated and distant.

With your constant charitable acts, the public only became more and more thrilled with you. They loved what you stood for, and they got a fairytale out of it. One of a Prince who meets and girl, who then becomes a Princess. What they don’t understand is how cruel the Prince can be when out of the limelight.

He was nurturing for some time, both of you growing quite a bit closer in the weeks before the birth of your second child. He gave back massages, and brought meals up, tended to Henry while you were bedridden. He never complained either, this made you feel quite a bit better about the pain that came with your second pregnancy.

You felt that this was the closest you had every been, and the closest you would ever be.

When James was born, you felt a sinking feeling that your marriage was slowly but surely dissipating before your eyes. The moment he was out, the first thing Tom said was ‘god, another boy’.

He chose his middle names, but you settled on James for his first. After approval of course. Tom was disappointed to say the least, later that night when you were still sore and just beginning to try and get him to latch, Tom told you he was going out. When you asked where, he nonchalantly told you he was going to play polo.

You couldn’t help but cry. Feeling as if you’d done what was needed of you, you’d produced an heir, and now you’ve produced a spare.

taglist - @ninacotte @justapurrcat @allthisfortommy @spideyspeaches @norietorie @veryholland @teenagedisxster @itsallyscorner @tomsirishgirl @runawayolives @devcarlsons @thecodyexpress @kassey @casualprincess77 @outshineallthestars @readheadwriter @cleverzonkwombatsludge

#tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #elle’s fics #tom holland #prince!tom #royal!tom #prince tom holland #prince!tom x reader #tom holland series #tom holland x y/n #tom holland blurbs #tom holland blurb #tom holland au #prince!tom x princess!reader #glamourous

[vsnyarbll]

the nights when we're alone

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader, Aegon Targaryen x reader

words: 2.605

summary: Aemond invites Aegon to give his wife a different experience in the bedroom.

warnings: smut (exhibition, voyeurism), +18, targcest

a/n: Smut is not very detailed, but there is smut. Enjoy!

"At least let me cum on her!" said Aegon. Aemond grunted and started pounding you faster.

Aegon stood at the side of the bed, watching his brother's every move and how you reacted to them. His right hand was around his cock, and he was speeding up and slowing down his hand with your reactions. You were lying face down and at Aemond's mercy.

Aegon squeezed his cock gently, letting out loud moans as Aemond's hands wrapped around your hips and caused your breathing to quicken.

You never stopped watching Aegon's facial expression. Aemond was always silent, so you were impressed that Aegon made so much noise at your slightest movements.

How did Aemond find himself in this situation? Aemond would ask himself a similar question every night the three of you got together. 'How did I let this happen?'

The answer to both questions was simple.

You two had an arranged marriage. You were the apple of the court's eye. All the lords were ready to accept your father's highest marriage proposal. But with a speed that neither you nor Aemond could understand, your father decided to marry you to Aemond.

Your father was delighted that you had married a prince and that your children would be princes and princesses.

King Viserys was also happy to see his son's wedding. He did not know if his son wanted to marry. Aemond had always been a quiet boy, and he was never one to sit and chat with his father. But all Viserys had to do to convince Aemond to marry a marriage he didn't even know he wanted was to tell him it was his duty.

In less than no time, you were married in a grand wedding. The cake was delicious. All the lords and ladies gathered at the red keep, dressed in their finest, excited to see a royal wedding. You were intimidated by the crowds, but even then, you were calmed by Aemond reaching for your hands and smiling as you exchanged your vows.

Aemond was excited to be married, even if he was afraid to admit it to himself. After many years of feeling like he belonged nowhere, he was relieved to have someone to call home. And eventually, he would have children who would love and accept him for who he was.

Aemond had always been so kind to you. You didn't have intercourse on your wedding night, but Aemond didn't mind. He could see you were worried.

He already had his self-confidence problems. But it wouldn't bother him if he knew it was him you didn't want and not the wedding night. He didn't want to ask you directly. He didn't want to appear weak when he was the one who was supposed to protect and defend you.

He had already accepted some things in his life. His brother's bullying since he was a little boy had changed his outlook on life in a partially positive way. At least, that's what he thought. No one had to love him, after all. He could live with that.

Aemond didn't know what he was doing for the kingdom by marrying you, but duty was duty. And fulfilling it was a prince's highest purpose. As long as it was polite and respectful between you, he didn't care about the rest. It was comforting to know that someone would be there when he returned to his room in the evening.

Then gradually you got used to each other. You all had your meals together. Aemond told you about some of his favorite books. You told him how interested you were in his family history.

You got on well.

Then, you fulfilled your marital duties. It took longer than expected, but neither you nor Aemond cared.

It wasn't bad. Especially when you heard how the other ladies in the castle spent their nights, you thanked each of the seven gods for giving you Aemond.

Aemond was a good man. He was careful not to hurt you. You knew he was trying to be gentle as he ran his hands over your body as if he was afraid you might break.

But there was one fact that Aemond was aware of. Your nights weren't enough for you. You wanted more. More passion. 

You didn't want him to be kind to you at night after everyone was asleep behind the doors of your chambers. 

You never told him that, but Aemond could tell by you averted your eyes every night when he reached up to kiss you. 

You loved kissing him, watching him. 

Aemond wasn't hard to love. 

Even if he didn't realize it, every lady in court would grovel at the king's feet to marry him. 

He was a prince. A good one. 

But you knew something was missing. And it made you feel guilty. 

What more could a woman want in her married life than a husband like Aemond? 

And you were ashamed that your body wanted more. 

It made you feel ashamed that you wanted more, more passion in an act that you were only doing to have children and to make sure your husband was enjoying his time in the marriage bed. 

That was what your Septa taught you. She couldn't have known anything wrong, could she?

Then Aemond caught the way you looked at someone at a family dinner. No one else could have noticed, but Aemond was aware of everything. When you looked at Aegon and locked eyes with him, you turned your head and smiled slightly in a way that others would have interpreted as politeness. Anyone else would have thought you were behaving as you should exactly, but they didn't see what Aemond saw.

The way you turned your head and blushed slightly, the way your chest rose and fell faster, the way you pressed your thighs together… Even then, you looked more excited than any night in bed with Aemond.

It was no surprise you wanted Aegon. He has always had a reputation for exciting women. His callous and uncaring demeanor appealed to most women, even if Aemond couldn't understand it.

Then Aemond thought.

He knew that if he made such an offer to Aegon, he would accept it unconditionally. He also knew his mother or anyone else at the castle would never know this.

He had to convince himself. He did not know if he could bear to see his wife with his brother like that. He put off thinking about it for a while.

Then, one night, you moaned Aegon's name as you came.

Neither of you looked at each other after Aemond pulled out of you.

You held tightly to the sheet that covered your body and turned your back to him. You buried your face in your pillow, almost letting it suffocate you, and waited for sleep to overtake you.

You were sure he would be furious.

And Aemond reconsidered the decision he was about to make a few weeks ago.

He stared at the ceiling for a while and twisted his rings, which made you watch his fingers for longer than necessary when he wore them. Perhaps inviting Aegon to his bed wasn't such a bad thing. The Targaryens had never cared about social norms. Why would Aemond care?

Aegon wasn't hard to set up. Aemond went to his room to ask his opinion on the matter.

Aegon opened the door with a suspiciously sweaty and red face. "Aegon…" he said, and his lips formed a thin line. "I can come back later. I think… you're busy." Aegon shook his head and straightened his trousers, which made Aemond sigh. He considered giving up before it was too late. But when Aegon said, "Nonsense. Come in." he realized how long it had taken him to work up the courage, and he didn't want to waste it.

He briefly told Aegon what he wanted to do. He received it with great excitement, just as Aemond expected. "Your wife… I mean… I don't want to sound disrespectful, but I sometimes wish it was me who married her."

Aemond did not react, but he sank further into his chair.

It took him less time than he expected to convince Aegon. The hard part was convincing you. Because you denied it for days, even crying when Aemond pushed too hard.

You asked what kind of a wife he saw you as with an angry face. "What kind of a wife betrays her husband!" you said several times. Because you never thought he would actually do something like this. You thought he was testing your loyalty.

One evening, you were having dinner together, and you were both sitting calmly. You thought that Aemond had given up the question he had been asking, and you were relieved. You reached for the glass on the table close to Aemond, afraid to look at his face. He took your hand and made you look at him.

Then he said the last thing you wanted him to say. He let out the anger you've been holding in for days. You stood up in anger and caused the chair to fall backward. "Yes! Yes, I want Aegon to fuck me! Are you happy now?!"

Aemond had never seen you so pissed off.

You looked at him, worried about how he would react to your sudden outburst, but you held your head high.

Aemond took a sip of wine and said, "Yes, that's what I wanted to hear." calmly. You nervously gripped the table and looked at his face, not understanding.

A few nights later, you were combing your hair to get ready for bed. You had forgotten or erased from your mind what Aemond had insisted on because you could not imagine Aemond doing such a thing.

Then the door opened, and someone came in. Your back was to the door, but you didn't look at the person because you were sure it was Aemond. No one else would come to your room at that hour. Then you almost jumped as the voice of someone you didn't expect filled your ears. "I'll never understand why women brush their hair before sleep."

You turned around quickly, your eyes wide with fear and uncertainty. You clenched the comb in your hand, trying to draw strength, and your gaze shifted between your husband and Aegon.

You were still trying to wrap your head around what had happened as Aemond took off the cloak he was wearing over his thin shirt.

At first, the two of you were together, and Aegon watched you. Your face never turned in his direction. But even with such a simple situation, Aemond had realized how you squeezed him more than usual when you came.

After spending a few nights together, you found the courage. You turned your head towards Aegon and began to watch him.

You imagined them both next to your body. You imagined their hands sliding over your body and grasping you together.

Aegon began to run his hand over his trousers as if this was the signal he had been waiting for to do more. When your gaze shifted to between his legs, he pulled his trousers down to his hips and pulled out his cock. It was as if he was always waiting for the slightest sign from you to do more.

This went on for a few months.

During the day, you were ashamed to look at the armchair where Aegon sat. The armchair reminded you of Aegon's eyes that wouldn't leave your face when he came. You even tried to cover it with one of your dresses, but then you gave up. Even without any tangible evidence to remind you, it had happened, and you liked it.

In the evening, both of them came to your room again. Aemond had not allowed him to touch you even with the tip of his finger, and he was determined to continue to do so. Aegon was only a part of the pleasure he wanted to give you. No more was necessary than Aemond had already allowed.

But now that Aegon had seen you in every possible position with every possible ejaculation expression, it was starting to make him angry that he couldn't touch you.

If the choice had been yours, you would have stepped between them the first night they entered the room together.

Aegon had reached his breaking point after begging and being denied all night long to touch you or at least to cup your breast once. "At least let me cum on her!"

Aemond grunted and started pounding you faster. "Fine! But only on her ass." He was tired of hearing Aegon's begging.

You got even more excited when you heard what Aemond said.

Aegon moved closer to the bed. All three of you were about to cum.

Aegon couldn't stop his body from moving as he moved his hand, and the tip of his cock touched your leg with every movement.

Aegon threw his head back but quickly raised it again for fear of missing the sight before him. Your eyes locked as he quickened his hand. Aegon raised his free hand as if to reach for you, but fearing Aemond, he placed it on his leg.

You came first.

Your breathing quickened, but you held back most of your moans. Even though it had been a few months, it was still embarrassing to be exposed in front of more than one person.

Then Aemond pulled out and came on the cloth next to you.

And finally, Aegon got what he had dreamed of for months and came on your ass.

You almost shivered when you felt the warm liquid on you. You let out a loud breath.

He rested his hand on the side of the bed, and you were excited that your hands were almost touching.

Aemond turned around to get dressed, needing privacy as if the three of you hadn't just cum together.

Aegon quickly looked at Aemond, and when he was sure he couldn't see you, he ran his fingers over yours. Your eyes moved from his softened cock to his body.

When he saw that you didn't react negatively to his touch, he moved his hand to your back and stroked you gently. "You did well." he said in a low voice.

You smiled and began to study his face with dreamy eyes.

Aemond turned around and took the cloth he had just used and cleaned you.

Aegon sighed. "You couldn't leave it like that, could you?"

You didn't move. You kept lying face down. You were feeling a little tired, but the main reason for not changing your position was to avoid waking up if you were in a dream. Because if it wasn't a dream, you couldn't understand how these two men could be so interested in you. And if it was a dream, it was a long and satisfying one.

Aemond took the cloth to the bathroom and came back to you. He laid down and pulled you to him. You wore nothing, and both of them would have preferred you to be naked in front of them, even if they didn't say it out loud.

Aegon quickly put on his pants and sat down next to you.

"You do not sleep with us, Aegon," Aemond said without opening his eye. He hugged you tightly- afraid you'd disappear in his arms.

Aegon grinned. "I know, I know," he said as he ran his hands through his hair.

But in the morning, the three of you woke up with your arms around each other.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader x aegon targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aegon targaryen smut #aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #ewan mitchell #asoiaf #tom glynn carney #house of the dragon aemond #hotd aemond #hbo house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x female reader #aegon targaryen x female reader #prince aemond #hotd aegon #hotd #aemond #aegon x reader #aemond the kinslayer

[the-djarin-clan]

🐈‍⬛ Tom Glynn-Carney and Kitten🐈

Old Stories

#tom glynn carney imagine #tom glynn carney #tom glynn-carney #aegon targaryen #prince aegon targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #king aegon ii targaryen #prince aegon ii targaryen #house targaryen #house of the dragon #team green

[madnessr]

Reunited Chapter 1

Summary: 300 years had passed since 1725, where three vampires had lost the only thing that mattered to them. Now in the year 2025, they are reunited with the one person they cannot lose again.

A poly Lestat, Louis, and Armand x Reader relationship

Warnings: Slight gore, cursing, mild angst

Word Count: 5k

Here it is guys! The first chapter to this series. Please let me know what you think, your comments make my day!

Masterlist

The Queen Mary, a ship built alongside the RMS Queen Elizabeth, was constructed to express service between Southampton, Cherbourg, and New York. The intention was to provide competition to super-liners built by European companies in the late 1920s. However, by 1965 the Queen Mary was no longer profitable and soon retired in 1967, retiring in December on the shores of Long Beach, California. 

All of this happened 31 years before you were even born, the notorious ship now growing roots against the harbor, nourishing a reputation for being hunted and cursed. Attracting self-proclaimed ghost hunters and other psychics to try and connect to the ship's past. 

But winds were changing, and in early January of 2023, the descents of Cunard White Star, the original owner of the Queen Mary, announced a revival. A luxurious experience reliving the thrills of the 1920s, promising to carry the Queen Marry across the oceans once more for a final and elegant vacation for anyone who wanted to set sail on history, departing from California and arriving in Italy. 

Social media and dedicated Queen Mary fans went wild over this news, claiming this could be the next generation of the Titanic, while paranormal enthusiasts couldn't wait to explore the ship for longer than just a night. However, you, along with many others, saw the announcement for what it actually was, a job opportunity. 

Inflation being at an all-time high since the 1980s, you, along with 63 percent of Americans who are also living paycheck to paycheck, could use the extra cash, a place to stay was a given, no matter how small the staff rooms would be on the ship, you wouldn't complain. Having nothing to lose, you handed in your resume along with hundreds of others. You felt confident in your chances of being accepted, making a note to highlight your previous career in the American Symphony Orchestra as a cello, and when worst came to shove, you also were a waitress at one point. 

The Queen Mary was not set to sail until 2025, leaving the hiring staff an entire two years to sort and select applications. Leaving you and many others in a state of radio silence. So, you promptly forgot about it. Moving on with your day-to-day life, you continued working ungodly hours, living off unfair wages, and living one day at a time. Until you had the wonderful delight of experiencing your boss, someone you furthermore supported through extra shifts and on days off, made a choice to fire you. 

Or, as she said, "Needing to let go of such a valuable employee due to the current economy." A load of bullshit if she asked you, but she didn't, and with your belongings sitting in the classic cardboard box, you made your way back to your apartment. 

Unlocking your door, letting your feet kick the old wood on its rested hinges closed behind you. You dropped the box carelessly, letting yourself sit on your second-hand couch with your head in your hands. 

You had faced many challenges since moving to America, leaving your family in Austria to make it big in the symphony orchestra only to be eventually let go by an abusive boss. Leaving you as a waitress at Denny's for the past two years. Of course, your family didn't know; how could they? 

You had left them. Had promised and gloated about your upcoming success just to end up in a shabby apartment in a dangerous area and now unemployed too. You were tired and have been for the past two years, but today was your breaking point. Like a cold shower, realization gradually washed over you, forming a heavy puddle in the pit of your stomach. You had failed. 

You wouldn't return as the prodigy you had hoped to be; you wouldn't return wealthier than when you left. Damn it, you couldn't even sustain yourself anymore; the only way you'd be returning is with a walk of shame. How were you supposed to look them in the eyes again? People who unconditionally believed in you, people you made promises to like prayers. 

You were ready to finally give up, throw the white towel, raise your flag, and surrender. You could already hear your grandmother, rotted in old sexist views, present you as an example to your younger siblings. You could practically hear her nasally voice, "Women have no place pretending to be anything they aren't." She always said that; it was almost her slogan. Whenever you had a new idea, when you aspired to be in all kinds of careers, from pilot to singer, she denied every single one. She wanted you to be a wife; nothing more or less was suitable. 

The dawning realization hit you that not only did you fail, but you proved her right too. Your young siblings looked up to you and watched you prove her wrong as you lied to them. Yet, you still pretended to be successful, that you were a part of symphonies, and that employers were constantly looking to recruit you. So not only would you return as a failure, but a liar too.

In your well-deserved moment of self-wallowing, you heard the rusty sound of your mail slit open, watching a letter fall to the floor. You stared at it, silently praying that this wasn't the icing on the cake, and your landlord decided to hand out eviction notices. Then, slowly pushing your lethargic body onto its feet, you hobbled over and picked up the letter. 

Ripping the envelope open carelessly, your eyes scanned the paper. You had been hired as part of the staff regarding the Queen Marys voyage, glancing at your calendar briefly, nearly two years after fucking applying. Due to a staffing issue provided by a system failure, you were hired as part of the waiting staff and, on occasional afternoons, a part of the on-sight orchestra. 

A dry laugh escaped you, flipping off the air as you grinned tiredly. "Not yet, grandma, not fucking yet.." 

The sound of seagulls singing, the smell of seaweed, drying kelp rotting on the shore, and the salty mist of ocean air surrounded you as you passed the crowd. It was boarding day, and you and the rest of the staff members were instructed to board early. But how was that even possible when you had to survive a sea of people instead of boarding a ship. Kids running around, clerly excited, young adults in their groups babbling about the cruise, while you and another worker, Ella, stuck out like a sore thumb in your 1920s-style work uniform. Considering that was when the ship was built and set out to sail, the owner of the Queen Mary only deemed it fitting that the boat preserved its history. 

Along with all the "excuse me's" and "pardon me's," your eyes caught on to a peculiar pair of men. Both sporting shoulder-long locks, one a cheerful blonde and the other a content-looking brunette. Their odd fashion was comparable to yours if they wore formal uniforms. But the clothes looked so ideally suited to their bodies, not an inch of fabric out of place. You just assumed they were history enthusiasts and wanted to match older decades. You caught the gaze of the blonde man, whose laughter and smile stilled as he watched you. A chill traveled down your spine as the eye contact was far too intense for your liking. Ella grabbed your arm carefully, guiding you through the crowd so you two would stay aware of the situation. Finally, you managed to get to the elevator, showing your employee passes before being able to board. 

You glanced out through the glass elevator walls, once again catching sight of the two men from earlier. Yet this time, six pairs of eyes stared at you; a look of shock and utter disbelief fell across their features. There was this incredibly odd, almost indescribable feeling of deja vu washing over you like those handsome faces were familiar. Finally being out of the rush of guests, you had a moment to stare. A man with black hair joined them, his strands of dark locks reaching further down than the others. He looked stoic, calm even, but his gaze connected with yours when you looked at him. He smiled, a gentle soft one that you barely even noticed. But it made you feel something—content. Like the man rarely ever smiled but had done so for you. Before you could fall further into your ridiculous daydreams. You looked away, feeling creeped out as the doors opened, letting you walk up the ramp and board the ship. 

The ship's interior was a work of art all on its own. The lobby, displaying a decorative wall resembling a fountain behind the reception desk, stretched from one corner to another. Several seats and booths were set up to serve as the reception worker's primary domain. Being guided through the halls, past the main entrance seating area. You passed a golden elevator; there was something old-time about it, displaying a large panel to indicate which floor it was on at the top. A large, almost clock-like arrow guided its passage. 

The staff was then split up and shown to their rooms. The halls had a fancy, royally red carpet as the floor. Beautiful golden embroidery gives it a more meaningful design as you pass the countless rooms. Having been given time to settle yourself, you glanced at your room. It looked similar to a standard, single-bed hotel room. A door leads to a closet on your right, being reflected by a body mirror parallel to it. There was a sliding door made of glass on your left, leading to a simple bathroom. A regular-sized bed and a simple bedside table on either side are in the middle of the room. You had put your suitcase against the chairs, flopping onto your bed for a moment to breathe. 

A sharp, almost tapping or knocking sound was heard from your window. Making you snap your head up; nothing should be able to hit your window, considering you were on a ship, high above the waves. Standing up, you glanced outside, watching the night nearly overshadow all the waiting guests if it weren't for the street lamps and store lights. Shrugging, you turned around once more and were later ushered to the restaurant you would serve at with Ella. But, again, given the summary of what was expected of you, you wouldn't be a waitress tonight. 

The restaurant was built to look fancy. Circular tables have neatly, if not ironed tablecloths draped over them. Two plates, four pieces of cutlery, wine glasses, and a white cloth napkin folded in a triangle on each plate. Pointing to the grand chandelier in the room's center, casting the room in a delicate orange glow. Along one side of the restaurant stood a small stage, a few instruments being displayed along with a cello. 

Tonight, you would be entertaining the dining patrons from 6:00 pm till 7:00 pm as the ship's doors finally opened to the public. So, you took your place on stage, skillfully preparing yourself for your session. 

The ship boarded similarly to airplanes, where more exclusive—or affluent passengers got to board first, following up with different groups sectioned by letters. Eventually, the calming silence in the ship slowly became something more welcoming. A soft, joyful buzz of people waiting for their upcoming vacation, or rather journey with bated breaths. 

You, on the other hand, couldn't care less. You were getting good money and had yet to decide if you were even returning to the ship to sail back to America. So instead, you might just stay in Italy for a few weeks. 

There was something so comforting in the idea of just doing as you pleased. No one to find you, just wandering down a road and seeing where it would take you. You were a day-to-day kind of person, and you saw nothing wrong with that. But recently, your days have grown to become boring. 

So, as you heard the loud roar of the ship's horn. You smiled to yourself. You had officially set sail to hopefully new and more exciting adventures. 

Gradually, guests began to appear in the restaurant. So, you started playing a casual, soft jazzy tune. Chatter filled the room, almost like a chorus as you played. You found yourself enjoying the atmosphere; everyone in this room came here for one thing: enjoyment. 

For your scheduled hour, you did nothing but play and enjoy. Playing Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker, Waltz of The Flowers; to Saint-Saëns The Carnival of The Animals. You played it all, a gentle smile tugging at your lips whenever a note hit so beautifully. Sending shivers down your arms and goosebumps, you never failed to get when music was played. 

You hadn't changed one bit. 

Perhaps you would've grown shy while performing if you knew, but this moment had no significant meaning to you. You're just doing your job, simple as that. But what meant so little to you made dead hearts begin to leap again. What it meant for them to see you again, thriving, living, and mortal. Three-hundred unforgiving and torturous years did they spend without you. They spent years getting over your death, and while getting over you wasn't ever accomplished, continuing to survive was. Although blood lacked its taste, the night air its crispness, and music its charm. You stood there on a small stage. Single-handedly providing their miserable lives with color again. With meaning. Although they had long forgotten what it meant to be, or instead feel human again, this was the closest they'll ever get to being so vulnerable. 

Lestat, although having been the most stubborn about accepting your death, was now struggling the most to understand that you were, in fact, alive. Right in front of him, so reachable, so obtainable. But he didn't dare move, frozen in his chair as he watched you. He had dreamed of you every cursed second you were apart, and some part of him didn't want to accept this as reality. Countless nights did he awake in his coffin, arms that had been around you in his dreams now empty. He never minded how cold his skin felt, but nothing was more challenging than the loneliness you left behind. His grief denied him this moment, compared to Louis, who felt nothing but joy; he just couldn't, unlike Armand, who shared the same happiness and disbelief as Louis. 

He was certain you weren't really there. 

To wake up alone after this moment once more, after something that felt so real. So Lestat stayed where he was, silently grieving the only sun in his life that didn't hurt, and enjoyed the sight of you in front of him, alive once more. 

But before you knew it, and any of them wanted to accept, your time was up, and a young pianist came to take your place. You bowed, unaware of the three men who had watched your entire performance with bated breaths. 

As you left the scene. One thing was understood between the three of them; the world wasn't the same without you. They had been given one thing they never had themselves, a second chance. One thing was for sure, they won't lose you again.  

Now that it was seven pm, you were finally able to properly explore the renovated ship. Heading out onto the deck, the breeze gently ruffled your hair. A familiar coldness from the night air hugging you close, enveloping your entire being. You leaned over the railing, tall, half-drunk champagne glass in your hand as you chatted and joked with your newly acquired friend, Ella. A little younger than you, she was a college student who had dropped out of her recent major and decided to take a year off. To find what she really wanted to do. 

You couldn't really judge her for it; teens were forced to make such detrimental decisions way too early, in your opinion. But there was more to life than grades and results. 

A soft clearing of the throat could be heard behind you two. Turning around, you still saw one of the gentlemen from earlier. The one with shoulder-length brown hair tied neatly into a low ponytail and old-fashioned attire. You could tell that he tried looking more modern, but the way his dress shirt and waistcoat snatched his waist so beautifully, you refused to believe the man would ever wear modern-day, baggy clothes and sweatpants.

"Pardon my intrusion, ladies; I just wanted to compliment the wonderful cellist this evening." He mused, a crooked smile framing his face. Ella glanced at you, a playful, bowing smirk tugging at her lips before she nodded. "How wonderful; I'll leave you two be then. My break is over now anyways." She mused, quickly slipping away as you stood there. 

Turning your full attention to the stranger, you smiled welcomingly. This was your favorite thing about traveling. The number of strangers you meant along the way, the people, the stories, the lessons. People never seemed to become boring to you; there always seemed to be something there that always kept you intrigued. 

But something about this stranger didn't feel comparable to all those previous experiences. This man seemed to feel so familiar. "Thank you." You mused you weren't shy by all means, but this man and his companion gave you the oddest of feelings. 

"Excuse me," you began. Then, fully capturing his attention with your words, "But have we met before?" The moment the question escaped your lips an expression painted his face you couldn't quite decipher. 

"Mind if I join you?" He asked, keeping a distance before you nodded. Inviting him to stand beside you, leaning against the railing and staring out at the dark sea. The lights from the ship give the only indication of the waves beneath you, the light softly reflecting against the surface. 

"I don't think we have." The man finally responded to your previous question, his eyes watching the light reflection paint the waves beautifully. "I wouldn't have forgotten someone like you." He hummed with a playful glint as he turned to you and smiled, his forearms resting against the railing. 

"Someone like me?" You asked, chuckling at how broad that phrase was. But, of course, that could mean anything, good or bad. 

"It's a wonderful evening." The brunette mused, occasionally glancing at you as you continued sipping champagne. You awaited his reply to your question but gradually accepted that he would leave your curiosity hanging. "It really is. Have you sailed before?" You asked, attempting a light conversation. The man couldn't help but chuckle as if your question had been silly. Now getting your attention, you stared at him, eyes requesting an explanation for his outbursts. 

As if sensing your confusion, he turned around. His elbows rested against the railing along with his back. "Yes, I have, many times, actually." You nodded, "To where?" But, you added, all kinds of travel interested you, so this wasn't strictly special. 

"You'd be surprised where you can go just by ship." But, although you nodded, traveling by ship was rare besides the vacation cruise or exporting cargo. Perhaps you just didn't know better, but you didn't feel like prying or exactly learning anything at the moment either.

"You know, Mr.—"you trailed off, not knowing the man's name. He smiled at the gesture, having no problem filling in the title for you. “Louis de pointe du lac.” 

You raised your eyebrow, finding such a long name an oddity. "Well, Louis de pointe du lac–" You began again but were again cut off, "Louis. Please refer to me as Louis." 

"Well then, Louis, it was a pleasure meeting you." You mused, not noticing the minor quirk of his smile as you said his name.

"Louis!" A loud voice called in a chiding and scolding manner. The man was obviously annoyed, he was the one with blonde hair styled similarly to Louis's. However, his anger seemed to dwindle when his gaze flashed to yours. He stared for a moment, before softly bowing. You raised your hand to try and prevent the man from literally bending to you, but he simply grasped it. A touch ever so gentle as he kissed the top of your hand, cold soft lips meeting your blazing skin. “Pardon me my chérie, I’m Lestat de Lioncourt, at your service.” 

After your shock finally calmed, you couldn't help but chuckle at the theatrics of this display. Bowing sheepishly, grabbing the edges of your uniform as you did, "Hello, gentleman, I'm Y/N L/N."

The soft sound of someone clearing their throat shifted your attention again, directed at the last man with long black hair in the group. "As lovely a name as ever, I am Armand." He hummed, making you realize the soft accents they had. Louis had an American accent, Lestat carried a faint French accent, and the man who had just introduced himself as Armand sounded European. 

"How rude of us to bombard you like this chérie, care to join us for dinner? I'm afraid the night isn't getting any younger you know." Lestat mused, an eager smile stretching at his lips as he chuckled. You smiled at the offer but shook your head in refusal. "Although I'm not usually the type to deny a dinner with strangers, I'll have to pass this time. I'm too tired to provide any enjoyable company this evening." You hummed, slowly stepping away from what appeared to be a disappointed blonde. 

"Perhaps another time." You added, smiling softly as you turned to the brunette. He shook his head playfully, "Don't mind him, have a good night Y/N." You nodded, waving a little as you finally left. Entering the ship once more as you made your way to your room, letting out a small sigh. The first day of anything was constantly exhausting in your eyes, but today sure gave you hope for more eventful journeys ahead of you. 

You completed your routine rather quickly, but it was still odd to feel the occasional sway or shift of the boat. It was very subtle, but you would notice if you focused on it. Removing your uniform, you let it against one of the vacant chairs before hopping into the shower. Luckily the bathrooms were made to look more modern than the rest of the ship; you were a stickler when it came to bathrooms. Being quick to shower, you dried yourself off and put yourself in some loose clothes. You would consider yourself someone who doesn't wear specific pajamas for bed; you would wear whatever was comfortable. 

Laying down after such an eventful day was pure bliss, even though you didn't do anything that was physically exhausting. Your feet still ached from all the walking, your lower back complained from the luggage you carried, and your mental state was even more drained. If there was one thing you were ready for tonight, it was to clock out until someone would bother you again tomorrow. Turning off your night lamp, you were quick to doze off. 

Although your sleep was quick to come, it didn't stay. You sleep in two-hour increments but eventually give up after five A.M. You get dressed, not in your usual work uniform, since you would only have to check in for work late into the day. So at the moment, you were a simple guest. Stepping out of your room, you walked past the halls and suites. But you halted at the loud crash of what you could only assume was furniture tipping over. The noises erupted from the room as if a band of wild animals had been let loose. 

You should have continued walking; this was none of your business. But the thought of it being a case of domestic violence or any other situation where your interference might've helped had you backtracking. You stayed silent, letting your ears strain to make up any conversation through the door. 

"Absolutely not!" A loud yet familiar voice boomed as glass shattering followed the commotion. 

"Why the hell not?" Another voice followed; this was a heated debate between two men. "What are you waiting for, Louis?" A moment of silence, like a glass of ice-cold water, was splashed onto you. You knew these men; this must've been Louis and the other's suite. At least, that's what you assumed. 

You could hear stomping, the screeching of a chair against the wooden floor, then again silence. "Three-hundred fucking years. Three-fucking-hundred! Now you're suggesting that we let her go? Live a human life, a vulnerable, fragile, dangerous human life?" The man's voice, who you pinned as Lestats argued. But the mention of humanity, as if implying that there was something outside of that spectrum unnerved you. We're they rehearsing for some play? 

"No, that's not it, Lestat, and you know that." Louis's voice spoke calmly, but there was a clear, agitated tone. For how long have they been arguing? 

"Leaving her mortal makes her fragile, yes. But turning her could leave her hating us." The accented voice of Armand spoke, making you sincerely wonder who this 'she' was. 

"You're risking everything!" Lestat couldn't believe they had this conversation for the last hour. After your sweet self had retired for the night, there was tension between them. It wasn't until Lestat lured a slightly drunk woman into their room and decided to celebrate his lover's reappearance with a bloody gore fest. Armand had partaken, not with much interest in the human blood-bag, and Louis was his sympathetic self as he drank. It wasn't until Lestat's small comment about how cute you'd look, all bloody and desperate for blood. Fledglings were always so needy once they got a taste, and he couldn't wait to indulge you. Then, of course, there was still the probing question of who would be your sire, your maker. 

But Louis had cut him off, stating that you needed to stay human longer. To grow accustomed to them and eventually to their life. Louis understood where Lestat was coming from; perhaps he would've been more rational if he wasn't so exhausted from their argument. He sat slouched in a soft, red-cushioned chair. Rubbing his temples in an attempt to soothe his headache. He sympathized with you because he knew someone would turn you sooner rather than later. He just couldn't bear you going through the terrors he went through; he could still recall the way you had refused to turn the first time they had all met. They had foolishly allowed you to stay human for a little longer, where you had found yourself in a riot and subsequently lost your life in the raging mob. 

He would be a liar if he said he didn't want to turn you too. To have that security, they had an eternity to properly court you, but you were human. Weak and fragile, with so little time compared to them. 

Armand was the calmest in the situation. He, too, wanted nothing more than to hold you like he had always done, to share his gift with you like he had wanted to all those years ago. But you didn't want that then and didn't seem open to something so life-altering now. The risk of developing a bad relationship through actions rushed by their emotions was too risky, despite his creeping fear at the idea of you being human. If they were on a ship, there would be no civil unrest and certainly no outright threats that could actively harm you. 

His coffin has felt so empty without you; for once in his miserable immortal life did he feel at peace. All of them did, and although they all felt torn. They eventually decided to wait to develop a small relationship before changing you. 

You still stood outside, shaking your head at what you had heard. Utter nonsense, complete nonsensical sentences. Finally, you walked off, unaware that your footsteps had been heard. And three protective vampires were not too keen on the idea of someone knowing about them, about you. 

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #the vampire chronicles #tvc #lestat de lioncourt #the vampire lestat #louis de pointe du lac #the vampire armand #armand de romanus #armand iwtv #lestat iwtv #louis iwtv #lestat x reader #louis x reader #armand x reader #lestat 1994 #lestat #prince lestat #vampire lestat #tom cruise lestat de lioncourt #tom cruise character #interview with the vampire fic

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love |Aegon II Targaryen x FemReader| Master List

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen.

You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

"An invisible thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, and circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle. But it will never break." - A Chinese Proverb

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

Part Fourteen

Part Fifteen

Part Sixteen

Part Seventeen

Part Eighteen

Part Nineteen

Part Twenty

Part Twenty-One

Part Twenty-Two

Part Twenty-Three

Part Twenty-Four

Part Twenty-Five

Part Twenty-Six

Part Twenty-Seven

Part Twenty-Eight

Part Twenty-Nine

Part Thirty

Part Thirty-One

Part Thirty-Two

Part Thirty-Three

Part Thirty-Four

Spotify Playlist

YouTube Playlist

Fan Made Playlist

All typical Game of Thrones/House of The Dragon warnings apply to this story, but I will put specific ones above each chapter.

#aegon ii #aegon the second #aegon the usurper #hotd aegon #aegon x you #aegon targaryen #aegon smut #aegon x y/n #prince aegon #aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen #aegon the elder #aegon targaryen x y/n #house of the dragon #aegon x reader #aegon ii fanfic #aegon targaryen x targaryen!reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii smut #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii fic #tom glynn carney #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii angst #his love fanfic

[wheredafandomat]

The Chambermaid

Prince! Loki x female reader

18+ | contains smutty smut smut

Having been promoted from simple maid to now a prince’s Chambermaid, you assumed the workload would be less considering you were now only catering to one person so you were surprised to find yourself even more exhausted now. Being a chambermaid to a royal meant waking up before them to ensure you had their breakfast ready, their bath drawn as well as their curtains and their clothes laid out all before sunrise; the royals woke frustratingly early. You later discovered that their early rise was to ensure that they all carried out any duties before midday allowing them the rest of the day free for other activities only the rich in Asgard could afford. Loki, although somewhat lacking duties, was no exception to this premature wake meaning neither was you.

Despite now only being contracted to ensure prince Loki’s welfare, you found yourself regaling his maidens too, and there were many. Most mornings you were cleaning up after them, fetching clothes for them and having the unfortunate job of marching them out of Loki’s rooms. You tried to do so with a smile, a smile that quickly faded to a frown whenever they’d make a comment in passing about your presence. Loki however was always quick to defend you. This morning you had managed to escort one of Loki’s flings out before running him a bath. Right now, you were making his bed, puffing his pillows when you noticed the markings in the headboard. You studied them, running your fingers over them when you realised they were bite marks. You wondered whose they were. Loki’s or theirs. You imagined how deep in the throes of passion you’d have to be to decide to take your pleasured anguish out on a headboard.

“Curious?”

You jumped as you heard Loki’s voice, startled as your hand fell from the frame. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to turn and face him.

“Your highness I—” you began before he interrupted.

“Please, it’s Loki” he corrected “my acquaintances are rather loud, they prefer to muffle their moans on my unfortunate headboard.” He spoke, clearly smirking from the tone of his voice. Well, that answers that question you thought as you slowly turned to face him, face flushing when you realised he was only covered by a towel hanging low on his waist. His skin was still wet, droplets cascading leisurely down his back, his shoulders, his face. You followed one down his chest, down his torso before it reached his muscular abdomen. You had to drag your eyes away from his Adonis belt before the droplet disappeared, the towel engulfing it. “I myself don’t muffle my moans but I’m not the one being fucked by a god.” He chuckled, removing his towel causing your breath to hitch as you spun around.

“Would you like me to um—to—“ you stuttered.

“Draw me another bath?” he interjected “I’ve just remembered that there’s a council meeting I’d like to avoid this morning and a bottle of wine I’d thoroughly enjoy immersed in it.”

“Umm-yes.” You spoke.

“Well, lead the way.” He prompted.

Your feet began to move, carrying you into Loki’s bathing chambers. Your hands were practically shaking as you twisted the tap before water came flooding out. Loki didn’t enter the washroom until the bath was full which was for the best considering he was currently completely naked. And wet.

“Not going to stay?” He called after you as you turned to leave. You paused, eyes rounding as you panicked.

“What?” You gulped.

“Apologies, that was said in jest, don’t look so pale” he assured. “Others would jump at the chance to bathe with me.” He snickered. “In fact, they do.” He added, mostly mumbling to himself. “That will be all y/n.” He dismissed.

“Your highness—” you were about to bid before he interrupted.

“Loki” he insisted “I call you y/n, you call me Loki.”

“Loki.” You nodded curtly before leaving.

Most of your mornings were the same until one morning things were different. The princes of Asgard were sent away for battle meaning that the prince's chambermaids, yourself included, didn’t have much to do throughout the day. You ensured Loki’s rooms were kept tidy and dust free but apart from that, you were left to your own devices.

One morning your devices left you running your hands over the bite marks on Loki’s headboard again. You couldn’t understand it, how anyone had managed to bite down so hard. You couldn’t picture sex so passionate, so electric that you’d subject your teeth to that torture. You thought about Loki’s previous words “but I’m not the one being fucked by a god”. Is that what makes the women so zealous, the fact that they’re sleeping with a god because that’s essentially what he is, a powerful, brooding god. Maybe that was the secret to messianic sex, sleeping with Loki.

Considering Loki’s room was uninhabited and your curiosity was well and truly piqued, you made your way onto his bed. Immediately you wanted to melt into the comfy sheets, bury yourself in his pillow but you couldn’t, that wasn’t the mission at hand. You ventured up the bed, facing the headboard as you did so until you were near his pillows. You lowered your head enough until your teeth were grazing the headboard but you were not close enough. You moved closer, his pillows underneath you as your teeth moved over the dents left from previous suitors. You imagined them, one by one as Loki fucked them. You imagined the movement of their hips, the way Loki would allow himself to moan freely. You added a tiny bit of pressure to your bite, thinking about how desperate they’d feel right before their climax, desperate enough to bite down harder. You hadn’t realised you were writhing above Loki’s pillows until you felt that familiar pressure building in your abdomen. It was wrong, truly wrong to continue now that you were aware but you were too close now. You ground your hips down harder, faster, eyes falling closed as you let the faux feeling of Loki around you, holding you engulf you. You came, sparing your teeth the pain by biting into your finger instead of the headboard.

You came down from your high before leaping away from Loki’s bed with shaky legs as if you had just been caught. Immediately you stripped it, replacing the bedding before leaving the room.

As the days went on, you found yourself yearning for Loki’s presence more and more. During the day, you prayed for his safe and no doubt victorious return but in the night, you imagined him when you’d touch yourself, cumming to the thought of his head between your thighs or him fucking you in his bed. It was a bad habit, thinking of him in this way knowing you’d never be in the fortunate position his lovers were but you couldn’t help it, Loki was your new obsession. You were enthralled.

One sunny morning whilst you were having a late breakfast, your presence was requested by Loki meaning that he was back. You tried to hide your elation as you rushed towards his rooms. Your smile was so wide that your mouth hurt. When you reached his door, you bit your smile down as you knocked. After a few moments you entered.

“Are you any good at stitching y/n?” Loki asked, facing his dressing table as you walked in.

“Yes, I can—” you began before Loki turned to face you “are you aware that you’re bleeding?” You pointed out, gesturing to the cut above his brow.

“Quite.” He answered.

“You want me to stitch you?” You gulped.

“I trust you.” He shrugged.

“And not the sisters in the medwing?”

“I trust you.” He repeated. You nodded in reply.

“Well, I just need to grab a few things.”

“I’ve got all the materials you will need.” He insisted.

“Right then, let’s get to work.” You clapped.

“Where do you want me?”

Underneath me

“Here’s fine.” You said, gesturing to his bed. Loki stood up with what looked like a first aid kit before making his way to his bed and sitting on the edge, looking up at you. You opened the first aid kit, laying the things you’d need out. “I’ve got to clean the wound first, it might sting a bit.” You announced, dabbing some cotton wool with rubbing alcohol. He nodded in reply before you pressed the antiseptic wool to his forehead. You knew it stung however Loki had no reaction. You positioned yourself closer to him, standing between his legs as you tilted his head further up before you began stitching. As you stitched, Loki’s gaze moved onto something else but his hand found its way onto your leg. His grip tightened whenever the needle penetrated his skin; it was obvious it hurt. You tried to ignore the tingling feeling flooding your centre as his hand practically caressed your inner thigh. His hand then ventured between your legs, wrapping around the back of one of your thighs as if this was better leverage against the needle. You wondered what he was thinking as you stitched, his face level with your cunt.

You hesitantly finished knowing that once you did, this moment of closeness would come to an end.

“It’s done.” You spoke, breaking the silence. You didn’t step away, he was still holding you.

“Thank you.” Loki smiled, looking up at you before slowly releasing your thigh, realising how tightly he had been holding it “sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You smiled chastely. Your eyes lingered on one another’s for a few moments before you both realised and tore your gazes away from each other. “Well” you started, clearing your throat “if there’s nothing else, I’ll just be going.”

Loki nodded as you departed grudgingly. You made it to the door before wrapping your hand around the handle and turning it.

“Wait.” He called out, making you pause.

“Yes Loki.”

“Could you—um—would you” he stammered as you turned to face him.

“Yes?”

“Draw me a bath?”

You nodded, strangely upset that this was his only request. You had let your mind run away with you. You made your way to the washroom, tears pricking at your eyes. Once you had run Loki’s bath, you called after him to no reply. You made your way out, calling him again when you saw him lying on his bed but he didn’t answer. You tried again to no avail. It was clear that he was asleep so you thought it best if you simply left. You headed to the door again, pausing when you heard Loki’s half asleep voice.

“Stay.”

“W-what?” You answered, unsure whether you heard correctly.

“Stay here, please.”

“Okay Loki, I’ll stay.”

You stepped towards his bed cautiously, stiff as an iron board when you laid against the edge of it. Your eyes rounded when you felt Loki drape an arm around you before pulling you back against him until your back was against his chest. You felt him breathing softly against the nape of your neck, smelt him against the pillow, you were happily engulfed by him. Inhaling deeply, you allowed yourself the privilege of closing your eyes.

Hours later you were woken suddenly by the sound of Loki mumbling almost incoherently. Your eyes flew open as you felt him writhing against you; he was hard. You whispered his name but he didn’t answer so he was probably doing this in his sleep. His rock hard length was pressed against you so you pushed your hips backwards until he was firmly pressed against your ass. You let your mind wander again, imagining being one of Loki’s flings as he ruts against you in his sleep. Reaching behind you, you grabbed his hand before slowly placing it against your hip, stifling a little whimper at the feeling. You had heard of this phenomenon before, men returning from battle and having a delayed adrenaline rush. Was this it? Was this Loki’s delayed adrenaline ramping him up and turning him on?

Your dress began riding up your legs before you tugged it up and then paused, this was wrong. You knew you should be waking him up, stopping whatever this was but gods it felt good.

“Fuck” he muttered, grinding against you “don’t stop on my account.”

Great, now he was awake

“Loki I—” you began, unsure what to say.

“If it’s satisfaction you crave, continue pulling your dress up or by all means, you are free to leave, I won’t pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

You were silent, not sure how to answer.

“Make a decision, pet.”

Pet

Pet

Almost immediately, you pulled your dress up before tugging your panties down.

“Are you sure?” Loki spoke in your ear.

“Gods yes.” You almost moaned.

“Very well.” He smirked, slapping your ass causing you to bite down on your lip. You moved one of your legs slightly as he angled himself towards your entrance. You could already feel how slick you were with earliers heavy petting and the thought of him inside you so you wasn’t surprised when he slipped in with ease. His hands were both on you, caressing your body, holding your hip whilst he fucked you. He pulled you back against him, one of his hands snaking round you to tease your clit. You were near certain this was all a dream, a very sexy dream.

“Yess Lokii.” You moaned as he drew fast circles on your clit, his cock moving against your walls. He rolled you over until you were on your front and he was above you. You tried to stifle your pleasure in his pillow as he drilled into you, circling his hips as he came. He slowed his thrusts before pulling out completely and laying against the bed. You hadn’t realised, too lost in your own world until Loki’s spoke.

“Come here.” He commanded. You lifted your head, looking at him when you noticed that he was still hard. Obediently, you made your way towards him, lowering yourself on top of him, both of you moaning as he entered. With the new angle came new pleasure. You bounced above him, feeling him deep inside you as you screamed his name. He was gripping you tightly, chin tilted upwards as he looked at you. When your eyes met, you felt as if you were floating, the intimacy not going unnoticed. His fingers were rubbing your clit again, sending your pleasure into overdrive. Your thighs were already shaking.

“I’m gonna cum Lokiii, oohh godd.” You cried as he fucked up into you.

“Cum for me, come on, ughh, such a perfect cunt ughhh.” He groaned.

Your body tensed as you reached your climax, it was undeniably the best orgasm you had ever had. Before you had even fully recovered, Loki spoke.

“I want you on my face.”

“Loki” you gulped.

“Now.”

Submissively you once again followed suit, only pausing when you were positioned above him. Thinking about the practicalities of this position and not wanting to hurt him, you were about to object until he pulled you down on top of him, feasting on you. You moaned his name stridently as he suckled on your clit. You were already so sensitive, thighs quivering as he lapped up your arousal, the lewd sloppy noise filling the room. Your pleasure was too much, your moans were too much. The feeling was too much, too electric. Before you knew it, you were leaning forward, biting down on the headboard, making new markings as Lokis tongue entered you.

“Lokiii.” You cried, your orgasm spilling over you as your thighs tightened around his head. He continued licking your cunt, groaning as you came on his face. After a while, you realised Loki probably couldn’t breathe so you got off of him quickly, not knowing what came over you. Your hand found your mouth as you looked at Loki laying there red faced. “I’m so sor—”

“No, that was perfect” he beamed, licking his lips “norns you’ve made me hard again.” He smirked.

That was unexpected

Loki made his way off of the bed, standing at the edge as he pulled you towards him, positioning your legs over his shoulders before entering you again. You fucked, you came, Loki lifted you up and had you against the wall before you both came again until you were both thoroughly sated.

Eventually the two of you relaxed in a bath, Loki massaging your shoulders as you sat between his legs. It felt unfamiliar to be in the basin this time.

When you were finished, you were back in his bed, only laying down this time before falling asleep. You knew you were bound to wake up sore.

Needless to say, you never had to chase any more wayward women away. You were enough.

Omg I wrote this on google docs I’ve been putting off writing anything because I didn’t wanna use google docs 😂 anyways I’ll probs finish off the requests next week considering I’m a google docs bitch now eh

Tags:

@lokisninerealms @lokiprompts @mischief2sarawr @lulubelle814 @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @eyesbluelikethetitanic @vickie5446 @mcufan72 @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958 @lokilvrr @evelyn-kingsley @strangelockd @xorpsbane @lovingchoices14 @donaweasley @sailorholly

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki (marvel) #oc fiction #tom hiddelston loki #loki fanfiction #loki smut #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki of asgard #loki imagine #loki imagines #prince loki #prince loki x reader

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Me & The Devil P.2 🌘| Harry Potter Imagine

takes place during HBP & DH1

Part 1 here | HP Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Black!Sister reader x HP characters (platonic), Severus Snape x reader (platonic/semi-romantic)

Content Warnings: death, violence, profanity, angst, slight cannon divergence, mentions of torture and blood, set during the book timeline of the 1990s | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 6k

Requested yes/no

Premise: A dark storm is brewing over Hogwarts. The return of Voldemort and his Death Eaters spark unease in the Golden Trio. For a certain member of the Noble House of Black, she takes on a new role of double agent with the partnership between her and a certain Hogwarts professor. Will she survive the ordeal and get her freedom when it's all over? The odds are slim when acting as a loyal servant and hunted by aurors.

Note: Snape is 37 in this like the books and reader is 31. Part 3 will be the final chapter to this miniseries but I have no idea when it will be posted. Hope y’all like this one! Also near the end the final scenes are inspired by Wanda in MOM so yeah that belongs to Marvel

——————-

Months went by. Waiting. Scheming. Y/n felt her mind deteriorate by the day. Between Bellatrix’s constant complaints of Draco’s failures and Narcissa’s moping, Y/n spent most of her time in the attic of Malfoy Manor. Hidden away to perfect her spells and create new ones. She even managed to successfully become an animagus. 

A black crow.

How fitting.

At times Y/n found herself sitting in front of the window. Especially when it rained. The lightning in the distance, the crisp air filling the attic walls. Lost in her thoughts, Y/n would caress the silver jewelry laid on her left ring finger. 

Once a month she’d receive a letter from Severus, unbeknownst to the others, detailing Draco’s attempts and all the times Snape’s had to cover for him. As part of their deal to keep quiet of the others' disloyalty and motives behind actions, Snape agreed to update her on Draco and keep the Order off Y/n’s trail. For Y/n’s side of the bargain, she agreed to deflect suspicion on him from their fellow Death Eaters. Specifically her sisters.

And what better way to do that then in holy matrimony.

“You want to get married?” she scoffed, placing her wine glass on the coaster. Having left with her sisters following the unbreakable vow, Y/n returned later that night after Severus sent an owl. Sitting in the same leather chair from before, “You humor me.”

“I can assure you I am everything but comical, Y/n,” he drawled, standing by the fireplace. The sound of wood crackling filled the room. “This is not an arrangement I suggest lightly.”

Seeing how serious he was, Y/n’s demeanor changed. “Wow,” her tone lowered, finger raising to tap her lips. Unable to read her mind since she was a gifted Occulmens like himself, Snape was left to wonder what Y/n was thinking. Truth be told the woman was more impressed than shocked by his proposal. “I think that’s the first time I’ve been rendered speechless, Severus.” Standing, Y/n grabbed her glass and approached the man. “You truly believe this would work? Proposing a marriage between us….” she trailed, glancing at the fire briefly, “is intriguing. Tell me more.”

Snape’s expression remained the same, “It is simply a matter of convenience.” No need to sugar coat it, “We want to keep our secrets hidden. So long as you can assure your sisters stay off my back…..I’ll make sure the Order stays off yours. We play the part of a happy married couple when operating business with the Dark Lord, and I will do everything in my power to get your freedom when this all ends.” 

Y/n liked what she was hearing. The more she thought about it, the more engrossed she became. Marrying Snape wasn’t ideal--as the concept itself she did not care for--but Y/n could not deny the idea made her curious. Plus Severus was handsome, a talented wizard, and obviously, he knew her motives for following Voldemort. What her end goal was. She needed to keep him close. 

“I think I’ll find playing the part of a smitten wife will be rather easy,” she rasped, stepping closer to Snape so their chests were nearly touching. Walking her fingertips up the length of his arm, Y/n leaned closer to Snape which ignited a sharp breath from the man. She smelled of expensive perfume. Their closeness allowed him to see how her eyes turned from their usual coldness to something more lustful. Almost sinister. His reaction made her smirk, “Confident you can manage the same….husband?” 

Now, almost a year later, the two managed to successfully keep their union hidden from the Order. All while any suspicion the Death Eaters had of Snape seemed to disappear. Bellatrix, initially furious and doubtful of their ‘relationship’, soon began to trust him. Still, the witch grimaced each time the pair greeted the other with an affectionate kiss. Or when Y/n took claim to Snape’s lap during meetings. An action which surprised the man himself in the beginning.

Each letter Severus sent was met with one in return, however Y/n was careful to only send her owl in the late hours of the night. When her family was sound asleep. Signing the parchment with only her initials, but instead of B as the ending initial it was S. She’d never admit it aloud, but Y/n felt a sense of comfort with Severus. There was an overwhelming amount of hate in her heart, but the pinch of sanity left in her soul connected to him. Which is not a surprise. He is, of course, the only person who can relate to her. 

Neither would call it love. Y/n possessed no love. And Snape lost his when Lily died. They had mutual respect and care for each other as their partnership grew. Finding the other’s presence calm despite the world around them going to shit. 

The news of Draco’s success in connecting the two cabinets came from Bellatrix’s glee, the woman bursting into the attic with a loud, “It’s time, sister.” Reluctantly, Y/n trailed Bellatrix to Knockturn Alley, where they met several of their associates. 

Dark clouds painted the sky. Thunder rumbling. It set the tone of the evening. 

Y/n stayed stoic the entire journey. Hating every minute, yet doing nothing to escape. Where could she even go? The mark on her arm prevented her from doing so. Until Voldemort was defeated, the only way for her to stay alive was to continue the act of a loyal servant. 

Draco was gone when the group breached the cabinet in a cloud of black smoke. The boy rushed to find Dumbledore and complete his task. He found the man on the observation deck of the Astronomy Tower. Unaware his longtime rival, Harry Potter, was below him, watching the scene play out. 

The others arrived to witness Draco complete the task, however, in the end Snape was the one to administer the curse. And so the greatest wizard in history fell from the sky. 

Y/n kept her eyes on Severus the entire time. Watching his reaction. When he went through with the unthinkable, Y/n wasted no time in rushing to his side. Cupping his face, she noticed the dissociative expression Snape wore. Mind processing what he had done. “Severus,” he didn’t respond, making her shake his shoulders, “look at me.” Finally he meets her eye and the woman matches his anxious demeanor. “We have to go. Now.” 

Clutching his robe, the two push Draco in the direction of the Death Eaters. Bellatrix’s maniacal laughter rings as she shoots a spell into the sky to bring forth the Dark Lord’s symbol in the clouds. Not long after the tower was surrounded by members of the Order, ensuing a battle between the groups. Y/n tried to avoid dueling as much as possible. Not wanting to harm anyone, especially the kids in the school. 

Cutting the corner after dodging a spell from her niece Nymphadora, Y/n spotted the wretched Fenrir Greyback attacking a man she didn’t recognize. Judging by the wild red hair he possessed, she assumed it was a Weasley. Greyback’s back was toward her, unaware she stood behind him. From the looks of it, the redhead was losing the fight. 

Not sure what came over her at that moment, Y/n raised her wand and shouted, “Stupefy!” The werewolf was flung into the wall behind him, falling unconscious. 

“Bill!” a voice screamed, Y/n turning to see a young woman running to where the Weasley laid. Bloodied and knocked out. Fluer dropped beside him, sobbing at the state of her fiance. She glanced up to see Y/n, immediately becoming frozen with fear while pleading with her to help. “Y-you--H-he’s been--.”

Cursing to herself, Y/n approached the two. “He wasn’t bit,” adjusting her dress skirt, she grabbed the cuffs of Bill’s jacket and gestured for Fluer to help. Together they moved him to a concealed area away from the battle. “He’s been scratched.” Having studied werewolves while in school, the woman was well educated on the subject. Muttering a healing spell, Y/n attempted to at least stop the bleeding, however, she knew the extent of his injuries were serious. “Nevertheless, the wounds are cursed. They’ll scar.” 

Fluer watched her carefully, “W-why are you helping us?” Y/n gave no answer, instead casting a final healing spell before standing up to leave. In her peripheral vision, she noticed movement from Greyback, and sent a second stun his way to keep him unconscious. She always hated him, so it gave her great pleasure to pu thim down. 

Truth be told Y/n didn’t know why she helped the injured Weasley. It would have best suited her to get the hell out of there and let whatever outcome happen. Whether that be Greyback killing the man or Bill successfully overpowering the werewolf. But instead, she cursed her associate. Saving the life of ‘the enemy’. 

Several agonizing minutes passed before Y/n managed to escape the tower. At Snape’s order, she ran deep into the forest until she was far enough to apparate. Back at the manor she was immediately questioned by her sister.

“Is Draco okay,” Narcissa grabbed Y/n’s wrist to stop her from escaping to the attic. Eyes glossy with tears, “Did he--.”

“Your son is fine, Narcissa,” she roughly pulled away. “You have my husband to thank for that--he finished the job.” There was immediate relief from Narcissa, exhaling the breath she had been holding. Y/n went straight to the liquor cabinent, taking a glass and pouring a generous amount before downing it. She then refilled the glass, offering it to her sister without a word. Once Narcissa took it Y/n kept the bottle for herself, saying nothing more as she made her way to the attic. 

It wasn’t long before the others arrived. Y/n heard Narcissa’s cry of relief upon seeing Draco. Bellatrix was busy scolding Greyback--something that brought a smile to her face. Other murmurs were made out, but hard to identify with all the noise. Moments later she heard the fast approaching sound of footsteps nearing her door. Jolting from her bed with her wand raised at whoever was about to breach it. Only when it was revealed to be Severus did Y/n lower her guard, rolling her eyes, “What have I told you about--.”

Snape slammed the door shut, muttering a silencing charm which caused Y/n to raise her brow. “We need to talk.” Her guarded expression returned, but Snape beat her before she could question him. “I know you stunned the werewolf to save Weasley.” All movement from the woment seized, frozen in shock.

“How do you know--.”

“I saw you with Miss. Delacour, Y/n,” Snape peers down at her with visible frustration. “Why would you risk such a thing? If you had been caught--.”

“But I wasn’t, Severus,” she interrupts, eyes flicking to the door in fear someone was listening, but then she remembered the spell he cast. “I was careful. You should know better than to underestimate me. And to answer your question….” she turned away from him, hands on her hips as she turned her focus to the woods beyond her window. “I don’t know what possessed me to do what I did--It just happened. Maybe it’s the fact the Weasley’s are distant family. Or because I fucking hate Greyback.” She throws her hands up in defeat,  “Or I want the Order to have all its members to better their chances at winning this damn war. Maybe…” her hands fall back to her sides, “deep down there’s some humanity left in me.” The words were so low it was barely a whisper. Y/n shook her head, the speck of softness replaced with disinterest. 

“Whatever it was,” turning back to him, Y/n narrows her eyes in warning. “It’s no longer our concern. Dumbledore is dead, you killed him.” footsteps echo against the wood as she approaches Snape, noticing his expression change at the mention of the headmaster. “He will be plotting his next move. We need to remain focused--I expect his attention will be on us more now given the circumstances.” 

Snape knows she’s right. Killing Albus only shined a spotlight on him, and in turn on Y/n. He was now labeled public enemy #1 in the eyes of the Order. Voldemort himself will likely turn to Snape. They will have to up their game, continuing the act of a happy couple. Well happy as one can be in the middle of a war. 

That summer was endless torture following the Headmaster’s death. Y/n not only had to deal with Voldemort growing stronger, but also the return of Lucius from Azkaban. It did bring the witch great joy to see the dark circles beneath his eyes and matted hair. One year in prison did a number on him. 

Lucky for Lucius it was only one year. Had it been 15 like Y/n, he’d surely gone mad. Thankfully the two rarely saw each other. Not long after his release following Dumbledore’s death Y/n moved into Severus' home. Only returning to the mansion when necessary. 

At every Death Eater meeting Y/n had to fight yawning with how bored she was, keeping her expression blank even when addressed by Voldermort from time to time. The man wasn’t blind. Well aware the youngest Black was not as forthcoming with her praises to him like Bellatrix. Never voicing her opinions, while also keeping any objections to herself like a smart person would do. He never fully trusted her. Even though she was married to one of his most trusted advisors, something in the back of his mind told Voldemort she’d be the first to turn on him. Without proof, Voldemort kept a close eye.

The meeting tonight was just like any other. Seated at the massive dining table in Malfoy Manor, Voldemort at the head while the Black’s and Malfoy’s flanked to the right. Y/n seated beside Draco, far from her sisters. Very telling of her attitude towards them.

Severus was the last to arrive, dark cloak tailing behind him. His entrance caught everyone’s attention, while his was on his colleague hanging in the air. Muggle studies professor Charity Burbage. The wounds on her body indicated she had been subjected to torture. 

“Severus,” Voldemort greeted, “I was beginning to worry you had lost your way. Come. We’ve saved you a seat.” The headmaster took claim to the only free chair at the table, bidding a look to his wife, to which she slightly shook her head. Silently saying, “I had no part in this.”

Voldemort then said, “Do you bring news, I trust?”

“It will happen Saturday next, at nightfall.”

“I’ve heard differently, my Lord,” Yaxley interrupted at the other end of the table, then proceeds to say he believes Harry will be moved at the end of the month. The 30th of July. The day before his 17th birthday.

“This is a false trail,” Snape insists. “The auror office no longer plays any part in the protection of Harry Potter. “Those closest to him believe we have infiltrated the ministry.”

The Death Eater seated beside Y/n laughed, “Well, they got that right aren’t they.” Several at the table joined in the laughter. The youngest Black’s expression was tight, plastered with annoyance. 

“What’s say you, Pius?” Voldemort addresses the man seated at the opposite head of the table. 

Nagini curled herself next to the chair as he answered, “One hears many things, my Lord. Whether the truth is among them is not clear.” Voldemort chuckles.

“Spoken like a true politician. You will, I think, prove most useful, Pius.” The Death Eater appears pleased by the compliment. Voldemort turns back to Snape, “Where will he be taken, the boy?”

“To a safe house. Most likely the home of someone in the Order. I’m told it’s been given every manner of protection possible, once there it will be impractical to attack him.”

Suddenly the conversation is interrupted by Bellatrix. “My Lord, I’d like to volunteer myself for this task.” She leans against the table, voice dropping, “I want to kill the boy.”

“Of course you would,” Y/n thinks to herself, holding back the urge to roll her eyes. Frankly she found her sister to be stupid to ask such a thing. Considering Voldemort mentions his desire to kill Harry Potter everyday. And with the prophecy, there’s no way he’d allow anyone else the opportunity to do the deed. 

In the back, Charity let out a haunting groan, causing Voldermort to shout, “Wormtail! Have I not spoken to you about keeping our guest’s quiet?”

“Yes, my Lord,” the man spoke with urgency. “Right away, my Lord.” As he scurried off, Voldemort returned his attention to Bellatrix. 

“As inspiring as I find your bloodlust, Bellatrix,” the hope was clear in her eyes, disappearing with his next words. “I must be the one to kill Harry Potter.” With that she curled back into her seat, Y/n’s lips raising in a satisfied smirk.

“But,” he rises from his chair, “I face an unfortunate complication.” As much as Y/n wanted to tune out this conversation, the nature of it was hard to dismiss. Especiall when the man walked behind the chairs on her side of the table. Brushing past her sisters before ending beside Lucius. There was satisfaction seeing him visibly afraid of Voldemort. A smirk on her lips when he was to give up his wand, a wizard’s most prized possession.

Her expression shifted when Charity’s brought to the center of the table. Death Eaters laughing at her despair and cringing with disgust at her profession. Y/n moves her gaze to Severus, who’s emotionless to Charity’s pleas. Then when the woman’s killed and her body drops to the table, Y/n lifts her hand to grasp Draco’s wrist. Squeezing it in warning for him to control himself when she sees his distraught state in the corner of her eyes. 

The action surprises the boy. Draco sucking in a breath and forcing himself to relax. Once he does, Y/n removes her touch and waits to be dismissed by Voldemort. As soon as the order is given she’s quick to leave the table, taking Snape’s outstretched hand where he apparates them back home. 

“How do you plan--?” he doesn’t let her finish the question.

“I have it covered.” Moving to his study, he hears her footsteps behind him, Y/n slamming the door shut once they’ve entered. He looked annoyed, “This doesn’t concern you.”

“The hell it does!” she shouted, making him clench his jaw. Ever since the incident at the Astronomy tower the two had been on edge with each other. For one, the Order discovered their marriage causing Y/n to lose her shit. Now she was public enemy #2 in their eyes. Or 3 if you count Voldermort at the top. Her odds of the Order leaving her the fuck alone decreased immensly. 

Second, Snape told her of his and Dumbledore’s arrangement. That the headmaster asked Snape to kill him. A secret Y/n had trouble wrapping her head around and prayed to a higher power no one, especially Bellatrix, found out about. 

Crossing over to him where he stood at his desk, Y/n caught his wrist to make him look at her. “In case you have forgotten, dear husband, we are playing both sides right now. You say you want to protect Harry Potter…just how do you plan to do that during an ambush you helped orchestrate? What the hell are we supposed to do if Harry Potter dies at his hands Saturday next?” Y/n squeezed his wrist tighter, “I’m putting all my trust into Severus Snape. You promised me my freedom when this was all over.” 

“I haven’t forgotten, Y/n,” he removes himself from her grip, “You say you trust me. Do so, and you won’t be let down.”

Y/n didn’t know where it all went wrong. One moment she was flying in the sky, the next she’s being rammed into by Bill Weasley’s Thestral. Pain erupted in her chest, likely from a broken rib and caught herself on the creature's satchel. Her hand is then grabbed by the imposter Harry seated behind Bill, keeping Y/n steady to prevent falling to her death. Using her talent of legitimins, Y/n identifies the imposter as Bill’s fiance Fluer. 

“You’re not Harry Potter,” she whispers, causing Harry (Fluer) to widen her eyes. The accusation was confirmed when Fluer’s voice responded, “How did you know?” Before Y/n could answer, however, the world around her became black. Having been stunned by Bill who realized what was happening behind him.  

Acting fast, Fluer reached with her other hand to further grasp Y/n’s now limp body onto the Thestral. 

“What are you doing?” Bill shouted over the chaos, “She’s one of them!”

“And she saved your life in the Astronomy tower, William!” Fluer screamed back. Using all her might, she hauled Y/n over the bottom half of the creature. Gripping the material of her robes and dress while ducking at the incoming curses around them. 

When they finally made it to the Burrow, the shaky landing caused Fluer to lose her hold. Y/n fell to the ground, still unconscious. Bruises were sure to form on her body. Bill leaped off the Thestral, helped Fluer off and rushed to Y/n. After confirming she was alive by pressing his fingers to her pulse, the oldest Weasley took the death eater into his arms and followed Fluer into the house. But not before telling Fluer to take her wand which had been discarded into a ditch.

“Wait here,” he said, placing Y/n in the care of Fluer by setting her on a bench outside the door, Bill entered to find the others gathered around an injured George. After the shock wore off of his brother’s state, Bill announced the death of Mad-eye and departure of Mundungus. Deepening the already intense mood.

“There’s something else,” he hesitated, eyes flickering to find everyone staring at him with unease. They watched Bill exit the house, only to return a second later dragging the last person they ever expected. Gasps rang out, wands drawn in Y/n’s direction. The witch barely conscious but fighting against Bill’s hold. Eventually succumbing to sleep once again due to the pounding in her head. 

With the help of Remus, the two propped Y/n in a chair, casting a spell to bind her hands and legs. “Where’s her wand?” Remus urgently looked around, relieved to see the object in Fluer’s possession. He turned to Bill, “What the hell happened?”

As the oldest Weasley explained, Molly approached the woman, assessing her carefully. Y/n had dirt and grime in her hair. A small cut to her temple. Likely from a rock when she fell from the Threstral. Her breathing was shaky, pained groans escaping her mouth which Molly assumed was from trauma to her chest. Although the others were against it, Molly began performing healing spells on Y/n, “Had it not been for her my son would be dead! I do not care what side she is on--I shall offer the same courtesy.” 

The group was alerted to Y/n’s consciousness twenty minutes later when she groaned. Shifting in the chair, her eyelids fluttered briefly before opening to bright lights. Moaning, Y/n straightened up aware of the audience in front of her, however she did not appear concerned. Even with several wands pointing at her. “Hmmmph,” she blinks a few times, settling her gaze on Remus, “what an unpleasant situation we have here. I hoped to be dead before experiencing this.”

It pained Remus to hear her words. Thinking back to that little girl he’d met on the corner of Diagon Alley with James, perched on Sirius’ hip. That little girl was gone. In her place was a woman with the Devil on her shoulder. “We don’t want to hurt you, Y/n.”

Tilting her head as though she found his statement funny, she replies “Is that supposed to make me feel at ease?” rolling her eyes she adds, “Surely you could’ve come up with something better.”

Remus sighed, realizing it was about to be a long night. “We’re willing to negotiate terms if you provide us with information. A lesser sentence if you will,” he chose his next words carefully, seeing her demenor shift, “so long as you are upfront and answer all of our questions with honesty.” Y/n’s face tightened, no longer humored. Remus felt his stomach lurch, not breaking the intense eye contact she set with him.

“You threaten me--.”

“It’s not a threat--,” he insists but Y/n continues.

“With a cell in Azkaban and expect me to comply? By being a snitch?” she shakes her head, eyes full of fury. “Go to hell, Remus Lupin.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“Oh?” She grumbles with a glare, “and how else do you suggest it be? I’m not stupid--a tad mad if we want to get technical, but you all have yourselves to blame for that.” Y/n was referring to the Order not taking her in during the First Wizarding War. Sirius warned them of his family and the Death Eaters recruiting her at a young age. Yet no attempt to protect Y/n was initiated. 

The werewolf’s face fell, “Had we known--.”

“Known what?!” She jumped forward in her chair as the dam of pent up resentment and anger broke, making several flinch at the sudden movement. A few wands pointed up but she paid them no mind. “That I’d become a Death Eater against my will? That I’d be forced to use the Cruciatus Curse on the Longbottoms or face my sister’s wrath?” She spat with ferocity. Pupils nearly pitch black it made her appear demonic. “You knew what my family was like! Sirius knew--It’s why he left! And you did nothing to save me.” Leaning back in the chair, Y/n finished with, “Go ahead and kill me. I’m not telling you shit.”

Remus runs a hand through his hair, his patience running thin and stress levels rising. “Y/n, I’m trying to help you here. We’re giving you the opportunity to avoid a lifetime in jail if you help us--help us end this war.” When his efforts are exhausted Remus gestures to the man behind him, “Kingsley has Veritaserum and we will use it if necessary.”  Now this has her smirking, chin raising in challenge. 

“Go ahead,” her voice lowers an octave, sending chills along his arms, “I welcome you to.” Weary of her acceptance, the adult members of the Order all exchange looks before Kingsley approaches. Y/n tilts her head back, watching Kingsley unscrew the vial and pour the tiny amount of liquid onto her tongue. Once it’s entered her stream, the woman cracks her neck and returns her attention to Remus. 

He clasped his hands in his lap, leaning in his chair. “How’d you know about tonight?”

Y/n pretends to think, “I think I saw an advertisement in the Daily Prophet. Yeah,” she nods her head, acting serious. “That was it.” 

Remus’s own head falls to his chest, the others visibly confused. The potion was to make her tell the truth. Pretty much against her will. Thinking it may have not settled in yet, Remus asks another question. “Who told him we were moving Harry?” 

Deciding to play along, Y/n shrugs her shoulders, “Yaxley.” Lie. She held back a chuckle at his confused reaction.

“How did he know?”

“Overheard it.” Lie.

“Where?”

“Diagon Alley I assume.” Lie.

“From who?”

“I don’t know.” Lie.

“But he’s the one who told Voldemort.” Y/n rolled her eyes at that, gesturing to her binded hands.

“Obviously since we’re sitting in this predicament.” She sees the frustration on Remus, as well as the others. Yet, the witch couldn’t help but feel entertained. “Anything else?”

“What’s your relationship to Severus Snape?” 

“He’s my husband,” She didn’t miss the way the Order reacted to the news. Upset but not surprised. No point in lying. They already knew about their marriage from what Snape told her. The truth of why, however, was still a secret. 

“Why did he kill Dumbledore?” Harry stepped forward, drawing her attention to him. Anger was written all over his face. Filled with absolute hatred. Something Y/n had expected when her husband murdered the man he looked up to. 

“You were there, right?” she asked, head tilting with curiosity. “Snape mentioned you’d been below the observatory deck.” Tsking, Y/n surveyed him. She was getting under his skin. “Why do you think he did it?”

“I think he did it to save himself. He was a coward,” Harry saw the way her face tightened. Taking offense to his words. A mere speck of what someone could label as affection or respect to her spouse. 

“Severus Snape is many things,” she sounded sinister, anger seeping off every word. “But a coward is not one of them.”

“Fat lot of good coming from you.” Harry antagonized her. “You hightailed it out of the ministry when Sirius died. He was your own cousin.”

“My cousin who left me a sitting duck for the wolves,” Y/n reminded the boy, temper rising. An indicator with how her voice was strained. “Let’s not forget you all thought he was responsible for betraying your parents. Didn’t even hesitate to believe he was guilty.” That cut them all deep. “And I adored Sirius at one point in life. Much like you, Harry Potter,” she let out a deep sigh, attempting to calm herself, “look at where it got me.” Exhaustion was beginning to take over the witch. Her body ached and there was a pounding in her head. Molly’s healing spells worked to patch any internal injuries Y/n had, but she still was drained from the whole ordeal. 

They were getting off track. Having had enough of the tension, Remus butted in, “Answer the question, Y/n. Why did Snape kill Dumbledore?”

“I don’t know,” she simply stated. Lie. “He didn’t say. Although…I can only assume it was to spare my poor nephew.” Another shrug, “And survive the unbreakable vow. Which you already know of.” 

Harry shook his head, “I don’t believe you.” His gut was telling him there was more to the story. 

“Harry, she took the Veritaserum,” Hermoine pointed out gently, missing the flicker of amusement from Y/n. “She’s telling the truth.”

“Hermoine’s right, Harry,” Ron agreed, moving beside his friend. “There’s no way she could be lying.”

“How much did you give her, Kingsley?” Arthur questioned, also suspicious of Y/n’s answers. Kingsley held up the vial. More than half was consumed.

“Enough.”

“Something’s off,” he murmured, rubbing his chin. A bickering match ensued between members of the Order. Harry, Arthur, and even Y/n’s niece, Tonks, had difficulty believing Y/n told the truth. The majority, however, voiced opposition. 

“Veritaserum is a very potent and strong potion, Harry,” Remus stood from his chair, but before he could say anything else, Y/n’s voice took over.

“Which you just wasted.”

Silence consumes the room. Processing what she said. That’s not possible.

Heads turning to the witch, Y/n starts to chuckle in delight. A sight unnerving to the Order as it becomes more deranged. Harry looked to his friends for an answer, but they were just as perplexed as him. Y/n’s voice turns taunting, “Oh my, you lot really are daft at times. Have you forgotten? Or did you believe it to be a rumor?” Her grin is wicked, finding the scene entertaining much to their dismay. “I’m a skilled Occulmens.” 

It was as though the dementors arrived with how cold the air became. Everyone falters, stilling at the revelation. It could only mean one thing:

Everything Y/n said potentially was a lie. 

The Death Eater tsked, “What do you think I did with all that time I had rotting in the middle of the ocean?” she laughs again, more menacingly. “Your little potion is useless! My mind is more protected than Azkaban. For all you know I fabricated everything I just told you.” Her taunting laugh continues, shredding the last ounce of patience the Order had for her. 

Remus kneeled in front of her chair and smacked the table, causing everyone besides Y/n to flinch. “Enough of these games! I have tried to give you the benefit of the doubt knowing you’d been forced into this life, but you have proven to be not so different from your associates.” Now that was a nail to the coffin. Any and all of Remus’s hope for Y/n having some level of good in her gone. “This is your final warning--or we will throw you in Azkaban for the rest of your life for good!”

Never straying her stare, the Death Eater murmered cooly, “You have no idea how reasonable I’ve been.” This time it was Remus’s turn to scoff.

“Holding children hostage at the Ministry, attacking Hogwarts, marrying Snape, and sending assassins after the officials who locked you up,” He lists off, surprising the Order with the last detail. They had heard rumors of Azkaban guards and Ministry officials killed in the last few months, but assumed it was Bellatrix. “I don’t see how that’s being reasonable.”

Y/n gave a sound that was a mix of a chuckle and scoff, leaning forward in her chair. “Sending those assassins after them instead of myself was mercy.” A chill rose, Harry’s intuition telling him something was about to happen. “And despite your hypocrises and insults I have warned you time and time again to simply get out of my way.” Remus saw her hands fidget, tightening his grip on his wand. 

“You’ve exhausted my patience,” Her voice lowered once more, almost to a whisper as her bottom lip quivered. “But I do hope you understand…that even now--with what’s about to happen…..” lips curled into a deathly smirk. “This is me being…reasonable.”

Faster than the speed of light, Y/n casts a non-verble, wandless spell that mimics a gust a powerful wind, ripping the binds off her hands and ankles. Remus flies onto his back, the lights flicker and burst. The windows and glass shatter. Papers fly. Hermoine screams, echoing amongst the shouts as Ron pulls her into his arms. Molly leaning over an injured George to protect him from shards. 

 Fluer gasps at the feeling of Y/n’s wand in her hand ripped from her. The death eater had snapped her fingers in the chaos with a non-verbal Accio.

With her wand now in her possession, Y/n unleashes another bout of wind, crippling the Order from attacking her. Once satisfied she makes her escape. Black smoke fills the room before flying out the window and into the night sky. The storm inside the burrow seizing. 

“What the bloody hell was that?” Ron coughs, catching his breath. 

“That,” Kingsley stands up straight, sore from colliding with the wall which knocked him down. “Was the closest thing to experiencing the Devil on Earth.”

Tags: @unloved-and-outspoken

#Spotify #harry potter imagine #severus snape imagine #severus snape x reader #severus snape #harry potter x reader #harry potter angst #severus snape angst #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x y/n #death eater!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin angst #death eaters #draco malfoy angst #half blood prince #deathly hallows #severus snape x y/n #severus snape x female reader #bellatrix lestrange #narcissa malfoy #slytherin!reader #tom riddle