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bluetimeombre · 2 months

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✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ And I wouldn't marry me, either.

You were Azriel's mate, but it took losing you three times for him to realise.

[this is long. i'm talking 5k words long so i've split it into two parts. anyway, azriel is the best bat boy and no i won't hear anyone out. i'm so excited to write for him and hope you enjoy. it's very angsty but that's what i love. i hope i can write more for him and maybe other characters if you like. it's been a while since i've actually read the series so if any information is wrong, do let me know. also it was my first time using the term y/n and yes, i cringed NOT PROOF READ... enjoy]

warnings: references to sexual assault and references to suicide. nothing explicit but please don't read if this is sensitive to you.

Part 2 soon…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The first, was the worst...

You were Rhys's half sister, the bastard daughter of his father. But when your mother had died giving birth to you, Rhysand's mother took you in and raised you with your brother and sister. You were so little and adorable that your sister loved you at once. Rhys did to, at some point of your life, you were sure he actually cared about you.

But when his mother and sister had died, his eyes shifted, he started to look at you with contempt. After all, you were only his half-sister. The worst half. He only kept you around because it's what his mother would have wanted.

And because there was no way Cassian and Azriel would ever let anything happen to you.

Besides, Rhysand knew when to use you.

Although Azriel was his spymaster, you were pretty good at staying swift-footed too. And you were frankly, very terrifying when you wanted to be.

You tread with power through the war camps, all of them looking at you as you went. All of their gazes wrecked with a predatory gaze. They either wanted to have their way with you, or kill you. Or both.

Rhys had said you could handle it, it was only supposed to be a check in. Cassian hadn't liked it, neither had Mor but it was Azriel who had almost- and for the first time- disobeyed his high lord to accompany you. But no, your brother wanted you to do this alone, so alone you would.

Just to show him you could.

'I can come with you,' Azriel had said, standing in your room as you tied your boots up. 'I won't even have to be seen.' At that, his shadows wrapped up your calf.

You smiled at them, as if they were his own pet. 'I'll manage just fine. Besides, i'm sure that's what Rhys wants, me needing a man.'

It had done nothing to calm your friend. The worry was still stuck between his brows, marring his handsome features. You'd held his cheeks, your wings hiding the two of you. His large ones (enough to swallow the both of you) over-lapped yours.

It was the last time you'd feel your wings.

The war camp wasn't as easy as you'd hoped. It was terror and horror in a place. You'd been to the court of nightmares, you'd gone to the slaughter of the spring court after they killed your family. But this, this was hell of another kind.

You had no idea how many days you'd been locked up, wrists bound in chains and hanging from the cell roof above you. Blood rolled down your arms from the force you'd tried to use to get them out. Your eye was swollen shut and your body trembled in pain.

All because they wanted to know your brothers secrets, and you wouldn't budge.

Your check was only supposed to be a day, but you were sure it had been longer. Days of endless pain and torture. Your uniform hung in rags of stripped material, your hair matted with blood and hiding your face.

You'd used the last of your energy to keep your walls up. You weren't anyone's mate, you didn't have anyone on the other end trying to feel what you felt. But should Rhys come looking (though you doubted it) you didn't want him to feel it. You didn't want anyone in your mind.

The gates opened with a sickening clash.

One of the Illyrian's knelt in front of you, his wings hiding those coming in behind you. 'Listen sweetheart. I don't want to make this any harder than it's about to get. All you have to do is tell us your brother's hide outs.'

You grit your teeth, staring down at the ground.

'So loyal, to a man who doesn't care if you live or die.'

Suddenly, your wings twitched as hands grasped them. Brute hands, the sort you wouldn't want touching any part of you.

Fear spiked in you, horror twisting your gut. 'What are you doing?'

'I told you I didn't want to get things messier, darling.'

You whipped your head from side to side, trying and failing to get a look at the assailants behind you. Your wings were being held apart, no matter how hard you tried to bat them away. You knew the sort of people they were, and what they did to girls like you.

That's when the begging started. 'No, no please. Anything. I'll do anything! Beat me, kill me, rape me, not my wings, please!'

'Anything?' the bastard asked, tongue poking out from his lips. 'Then tell me where your lord's hideouts are?'

You should betray him, you thought. He would never lose his wings for you. Perhaps it was stubbornness that kept you from, or maybe you were clinging to the last bit of love you want from him.

The bastard scoffed, 'anything, she says. Your brother has his own bitch wrapped around his finger.'

That's when they started hacking at your wings.

Your screams tore through your throat, blood spitting and dripping down your chin. Tears soon joined when they hacked away at the bone, the membrane, the flesh of it all. The three of them worked through your screams and your tears and your pain, tearing and cutting at it like it was nothing more than paper.

Not your whole life.

Let them hear you. You hoped your brother heard you, you hoped all and every court heard the pain.

Eventually, even you couldn't keep screaming. The only sound was the hacking away at your wings and the drops of blood.

'Now look at these beauties. I've got a perfect spot on my wall for these.'

They left you after that. There wasn't much more damage they could do. It already felt like they'd destroyed your life. You had never really thought about your wings, they were just part of you, as much as your wit or hair was. But they'd took it and now, you felt empty. Never would you fly with Azriel again, or use your wings to smack Cassian over the head.

Rhys, your dear brother, had took that from you.

The days blended in together after that. You were pooled in your own tears and blood, vomiting up anything they forced down your throat. No, they'd made it very clear they didn't want you dead. They just took pride in making it feel like you were.

At some point, you'd stopped reacting to the gate opening. You let them do whatever they wanted with you. Your wrists were still chained, arms still hanging up, your clothes hanging on your thin body in strips of dirt.

'No...' you heard a mumble. 'What have they done to you?'

Suddenly, the chains gave way and you lurched forward, with no strength to catch you. Luckily, you didn't have to, as strong and warm arms pulled you into his chest.

'Hey, wake up, look at me, dammit.'

Azriel.

You'd know the voice in the darkest days, in the pit of your worst nightmare you'd know.

You try to speak but your head's heavy, your lips are stone and your arms can't lift to hold onto him. You're exhausted, you're dying. The only thing you could do use all your strength to try to open your eyes.

'Please, please, look at me. You have to look at me,'

You were trying, you wanted to tell hm, snap at him, but you couldn't.

You felt Azriel shake, or maybe you were. Then, there was wet drops landing on your cheeks- you flinched.

'I'm sorry, i'm sorry. Rhys! Rhys! hurry up, please!' he was screaming. You'd never heard him scream before.

You heard the rush of feet at the cell doors, you knew it was your brother. You knew it from the presence of him, from the shuffling of feet and chocked sob. Your brother didn't cry, least of all for you.

'Her wings, oh mother, her wings,' said Azriel, his voice barley above that of a whisper.

Your wings. You didn't need reminding. They were gone, long and far gone. You were without a part of you, the very part of your soul that loved to be free. Never would you watch the stars up close or fly over everyone. Never race Cassian or make jokes with Az.

No, this would destroy you.

'y/n,' your half-brother called. 'No, y/n. Can you hear me?'

Your lips parted, mumbling. 'Hurts.'

Azriel's grip on you tightened. 'I know, we're gonna get you out of here, just hold on for me.'

You wanted to tell him you would hold on, you'd always need to hold on to him. That, no matter what he asks, you'd do it. To kill, to live, to breathe, to die.

And that's when it clicked. Amongst all the pain and the doubt. In your blood soaked clothes. In the fear you wouldn't make it, there was a tug. Weak and one-sided, but there. You knew you'd be safe with Azriel, knew you would always be with him.

Mate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The pain subsided to a dull ache, there and beating but not excruciating. You were warm and covered in a soft material. Nothing like the cell you'd been kept in. Your fingertips sunk into something soft- a bed. Your bed. It was familiar in its lavender scent to you and the silk wrapped around you gave you some semblance of warmth.

Your wings.

Even coming to consciousness was difficult. You were exhausted but light, without the weight of wings holding you down. You'd never realised how much you needed to feel that weight, to feel pulled down in order to be free.

Gone, all gone.

Your hand twitches around something cold, a shadow holding your hand, creeping up your side.

'You're awake, thank the couldron.'

It wasn't Azriel, master of the shadows. It wasn't your mate. Mate. The word replayed like a terrible song in your mind.

How dare the mother do this to Az. How dare he- nothing but loyal and kind- get stuck with a person made in darkness, who bled shadows, who's heart was so full of hate there wasn't room for love. They'd cursed Az, with you.

But luckily it wasn't him, it was Rhysand.

'It really happened,' you whispered, voice hurting from the screams.

He sighed. 'I'm sorry, i'm so sorry. We-we thought you weren't going to make it, you'd lost so much blood.'

In spite of the pain in your shoulders, you made a shift, turning from him as he ranted on about your condition.

'y/n... sister, please,' he said. He'd never called you sister before. He'd always been content to treat you just like you worked for him.

'Leave me alone.' you couldn't bare to look at him, couldn't bare to face him. The shadows at your hand grew heavier, as if more were piling on. You stretched your fingers away from them, trying to get them off you.

'Are you in any pain?' asked Rhys.

'Get out,' you mumbled.

The end of your bed dipped where Rhys settled, hand splayed on the covers, begging for your hand. 'y/n.'

'Get out!' you snapped, body tense and straining. You felt your wounds open up, blood wetting the bandage around you. But you didn't care. You'd happily bleed if you couldn't fly. A part of you, sick part of you wanted to be left there. It would be better than false sympathy.

Be better than your mate being disgusted.

'Get out!' you yelled again, voice tearing through an aching throat.

'I just want to help you! please, let me help you!' said Rhys, standing from your bed and walking around, trying to face you.

'I don't want your help!' you screamed. You reached for the closest thing you could, a jug of water and chucked it toward him. You aim was terrible, marred with pain and exhaustion. 'Get out!'

Though hesitant, Rhysand slowly started walking back to your door. He did it all looking at you, his hands out to show he wasn't gonna hurt you, but you didn't care. You went for the glasses next and chucked them but they landed against the door which he disappeared through.

Before it slid close you caught sight of Cassian , Mor and Azriel. All crowded, all waiting to see you.

You'd be happy if you never let them see you again.

'Can we see her?' you hear Mor ask.

'Give her time,' said Rhys.

The shadows at your hand grew heavier, darker, tighter.

'Go away!' you yelled at them. To anyone else, you probably looked crazy, screaming to darkness. But the shadows understood. They departed, slithering away and under the crack of your door where you could see the shadows of feet.

Tumbling from bed, you stumbled over and locked the door, leaning on it to and catching your breath. Your nightgown was starting to get sticky with blood all over again. When you closed your eyes, you pictured the cell, the rough hands holding you down, the chain keeping you up.

And the pain, it all washed over you. The hacking at your back, the sting of a slap. It hit you like a tone of bricks as you slid to the floor.

There was a knock, rattling the door.

'y/n,' Cassian. 'Please let us in.'

Us. You felt him on the other side. Your mate, his presence lingering. His shadows under the door, wanting to come in but keeping their distance.

He didn't know. It hadn't snapped for him, you could tell. It was one tug on your end, a chord in your heart. At least he couldn't feel what you did. At least you could shoulder it alone.

'Please.' his voice was almost your un-doing. He sounded so sad, so desperate. It hurt you just to think you were hurting him.

Tears streamed down your face as your curled your fingers into a tight fist. You assumed Mor had left with Rhys, leaving you there with the males.

Cass was always like a brother to you. Granted- a brother you had slept with once or twice- but he was your best friend. You'd always been close to him. But you'd always been good, a happy person.

You couldn't be that for them now, perhaps ever again.

It lasted like that for hours. Cassian and Az begging to come in, you curling into a ball with tears down your cheeks and blood down your back.

Eventually, they gave up. You couldn't hear them anymore and the shadows of their boots had disappeared.

Except Azriel's shadows that still lingered under your door. Maybe he'd ordered them to be there while they left you.

Eventually, you managed to find your footing on shaking legs. Your room was large, one of the largest. It was just as much a mess as it was when you'd left for you mission, clothes thrown over the place, books propped open on the pages you'd left them on. Everything was the same but could never be again.

It took you longer than you'd care to admit to get to your windows and throw the curtains close. Candles light at your request, the house looking after you as it had since you were a child.

You caught sight of yourself in the full length mirror. It seemed smaller, everything in the room felt too large and you too small, as if you were being swallowed by the expanse of it.

Your frame was small in the mirror, your hair disarrayed. Your eyes were red and shutting of their own accord from the tears that had drained you. The starving in the cells had made you look weak, made you feel weak.

And your back. There was no more looming black figures there, no more fluttering. There was just nothing. In spite of the ache as you lifted your arm, you felt around your back, feeling the hitch there, the lump from where they'd been torn from you.

You cry. You sob. You scream.

The scars were long and the nightdress was sticking to you by the blood you'd shed. All you could do, was hold yourself up as your body wracked with tears.

A breeze came from your windows, shadows tugging at the curtains.

You felt him before you saw him. You wanted to tell him to leave you but you couldn't talk without chocking. Without feeling like you couldn't breath.

Azriel had you in your arms before your knees could hit the ground. He fell with you, softening your body on the floor. His arms held you into his chest, his legs caging you into his body. His head rested on yours as he held you. He didn't try to talk, he didn't try to help. It was just him, you and his shadows.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Azriel remembered dozing off with you, his head on yours. His arms holding you into him, as if it was up to him to keep the sadness away and take it for you.

Afterall, you were his best friend. He should have been there for you, and he'd failed terribly by letting you get hurt and your wings stolen from you. He could hate himself every day for it, for letting you down. But it would never amount to what you felt for yourself and that killed him.

He could see it in the way you cried, in the way you were already keeping everyone out. He'd rather die than let you go through all the pain alone.

When his hands had been scarred by his brothers, you'd help heal him, tell him about everything he still was and all the power he still held in his hands. In the worst days, when he didn't let anyone touch him, he let you.

It was always you.

Azriel wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, or how deep. He was sure he was still with you, still in your bed.

His shadows crept up on him, engulfing him slowly and whispering to him. Your name, just your name on repeat. It was enough to lull him back into sleep, to keep him calm.

Gone. Missing. y'n. Roof.

He shot up and ran fastest than he ever had in his life. It was as if he'd never been asleep but had been fighting a battle with the way he raced over.

He burst through the doors, the cold hight air hitting him.

You stood facing the stars, your bloody back to him. It wasn't as much blood as when he'd found you, but it was still enough to put a lump in his throat.

Immediately his shadows fell to you, cascading down your body and wrapping around your waist. There was a breeze in the air, pushing your hair back and exposing more signs of the pain and torture you must have gone through.

'I'm not gonna jump, if that's what you're thinking,' you said. You didn't even have to turn to him. The shadows probably told you enough.

'Why are you up here?' he asked, walking to you slowly and with careful steps. As if every step closer could you push you away from him.

'I'll never feel the win properly again,' you answered.

Azriel gulped down his own pain. You’d never sounded so small. ‘Can you get away from the ledge?’

'I'm not on the ledge.'

'You're too close for my liking.'

'Leave if you don't like it.'

'Don't do this,' he said.

'Do what?' you asked, folding your arms over your chest. You were cold, out in the hight but you wanted to see the stars. Needed to see them.

'Make me leave. Make everyone leave you. I know that's what you're doing. It's what you do every time,' you could feel him dawning closer. His shadows were all around you, almost drowning you.

‘Every time,’ you scoff, stepping down and turning on him. ‘It’s not every day you lose your wings Azriel! But don’t let me stop you from leaving, flap them and go!’ You yelled, unable to stop yourself, no matter how hard you tried. You didn’t want to hurt him, you just wanted to be alone.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

'You jump and I’ll catch you,' he said. He was a step away, he could just reach out and touch, just a gentle caress. 'I swear it, whatever you do, I’ll follow. I’m not letting you get away.’

He watched your back shudder as he reached out, brushing knuckles against your shoulder blade. He heard your sharp inhale follow.

'Don’t think I won’t follow, y/n.'

Finally, you turned around in his shadows. You couldn’t meet his eyes but at least you could face his chest.

His hands were gentle on your shoulder as he rubbed it gently. 'Can I get Madja to clean you up?' He asked.

You nodded as he led you away. You truly did not deserve your mate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Fifty-two years later...

When Amarantha had trapped the high lords of Prythian under the mountain, it hadn't be a conscious choice to follow your half-brother down. How Amarantha had allowed it, you weren't sure, but perhaps she wanted to use you just like her brother, or she thought it would bring more pain for him to see you suffer under there too.

You and Rhysand had barley spoke the last two years.

It had took you almost two months to heal fully enough to leave your room, another few months to face your family again. But even then, everyone knew something had changed in you. You didn't laugh as loud or smile as wide.

Rhysand was careful to ever let you out on a mission. Mor tried to take you out every night. Cassian spent all day every day with you and Azriel- he'd healed you better than any nurse.

Still, you had not told him he was your mate.

Still, you thought he wouldn't want it.

Still, you cared for your brother enough to not want him to go alone.

But being under the mountain, you could avoid your mate. At a painful price.

Until her. Rhys's mate. He hadn't shut up about her since he first met her, much to your dismay as you had to sit around and listen- having absolutely nothing better to do. And it only got worse when she turned up under the mountain. She was declaring her love for Tamlin- again, annoying your brother, and throwing Lucien into danger- which rather angered you. You had nothing against the ginger.

Rhysand had once sent you to find the girl to summon her as part of a bargain he'd made. He didn't want to go, he didn't want to look too forceful. You'd been lucky enough to find the two tangled up in each other against a cold wall, clothes ripped and hips moving together.

'Well, well well,' you'd intterupted.

Tamlin all but growled at you, but feyre was looking over you- evidently confused. She had no idea who you were. You, in your skimpy outfit that Amarantha kept you in (they all dipped low at your back, showing off your scars) and your eyes that were like a night sky.

'Amarantha's looking for her pet and Rhysand is looking for his. Honestly, i'd be a bit more worried if I were you. You know, considering Lucien still has an eye to lose.'

The two parted with your words as you sent Tamlin back to his master, the high lord glaring at you as you went. While Feyre tried to fix herself.

'Rhysand is over there, better not keep him waiting.' That was the first time you met her, having no idea how much trouble she'd be worth. The family that she'd become.

But Rhysand made sure you knew it all. From when the bond snapped in him and he'd stumbled. He ranted and ranted as they climbed out.

If only you were so talkative about Azriel. If only you could talk about him with your brother. But you'd tried not to painfully think about him. Climbing out of the mountain. It was all you could think of.

Maybe he'd have forgotten you? it had been fifty years. He'd probably realised how happy he could be without having to take care of you.

Rhys was allowed out of the mountain, he'd felt the breeze in his hair but you hadn't in fifty long years. You stood there a moment, bathing in the warmth as everyone left, as everyone ran off for their families and courts and the war that was inevitable. Eventually, Rhys offered you his arm. 'Shall we go home?'

He winnowed you there, on the balcony of your home. In a cloud of black smoke, the two of you appeared.

He went first, slipping through the doors slowly- like it could all be taken from them any minute.

You were hesitant, taking a moment to glance at the landscape behind you. It hadn't changed, not at all. The mountains were still there, everyone was still alive. Your home. In the last years it hadn't felt like home, but how could anywhere ever feel so close in your heart.

When you could find your feat again, you managed to slip through the doors. You were suddenly aware of how little clothing you were wearing, just enough to cover your chest and run down your legs. A chill settled down your back, your scars would be on show. What a way to great them all after fifty years.

Mor had her arms around Rhys's shoulders, crying into his shoulder.

Behind them you caught Amren, with something like tears in her eyes. You were just about to tease her before a body barrelled into yours in a blur of red syphons and your feet were lifted from the ground.

'Cassian.'

His arms tightened around you. You shoulder started to dampen with tears, his tears. The last time you'd seen him cry around you was when he'd seen a dog with only three legs. 'I'm keeping you on a leash from now on, stupid idiot.'

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, a smile gracing your lips. 'Is that a promise?'

He held you longer, tighter, not daring to let you go but at least settling you on the ground. He sighed against your head, controlling himself. 'He's missed you, you know,' he said. He was the only one you'd told, about your mate. 'Now that you're back, tell him. He deserves to know.'

Cassian slowly pulled away, holding you at arms length and smiling at you. He kissed your cheeks and then your forehead before parting to Rhysand.

Mor approached you next, slapping you in the arm.

'Ow!'

'Why would you follow him?' she snapped.

You blinked at her before she took you by the arm she'd slapped and embraced you, like a sister would. You dared not looking over her shoulder to find the one who hadn't come to you. Maybe Cass had got it wrong...

Mor pulled away, wiping at her eyes.

Azriel was as beautiful as the day you left him. His hair was the same length, he was the same height. He was just as you left him. It was hard to tell fifty years had passed on him.

And inside of you, tugging in your soul and heart you felt the familiar string of gold throbbing. But you still didn't feel that tug. You'd hoped it would have faded from you after half a year separated. Or at least have snapped for him. But no such relief.

He approached you, slowly. As if he was scared of scaring you away. But you just stood there.

His arms were delicate and soft around you as he brought you into his chest. He still smelled the same, cedar wood and shadows. Shadows that wrapped around you, shielding you from the rest of the room. They caressed you, head to two.

You held onto each other for what could have been another fifty years, but this time, it wasn't so painful.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Although nobody wanted to part after yours and Rhysand's return, you were exhausted. A trip to Rita's could wait another night or two. The only thing you wanted to do was hide in your room.

Strangely, your room looked lived in. As if somebody had moved in since you'd left. A moment of anger replaced grief. Had they brought someone else and given them your room? but then you smelt it, Az.

Lying in bed that night, exhausted, you couldn't find sleep. You closed your eyes and pictured Amarantha. You'd never been afraid of her, you weren't afraid of anything. But you re-played the horrors. Watching servants beat Feyre, watching Amarantha use your brother and on the occasion, even you. How she flaunted. How the most powerful lords were weak.

Under your door, shadows seeped in, rushing across the room to you. You smiled, watching your hand disappear in their darkness.

'Azriel?' you called.

There was shifting on the other side of the door before he slipped in, clicking it shut behind him.

You sat up in bed, shadows moving with you. 'Couldn't sleep?'

He wondered in, looking around your room. 'Sleeping's been... hard.'

You rolled over, opening the blanket and nodding your head. You couldn't think about the bond, not yet. Not while he looked so.... ruined. Beautiful- the most beautiful person in the world, but sad. As he climbed in next to you, you could see the dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders slumped and his wings too.

His eyes scanned over you. You were in a thin and silk night dress that only brushed your knees, but the way he looked at you, mother you could've been naked. 'Fifty years,' his voice sounded barley controlled. 'Fifty years. You followed your brother down for fifty years? Why would you do that?'

You gulp. 'I would've done it for any of you. Except maybe Amren, she'd probably enjoy the peace for fifty years.'

You go to brush your hair back but Azriel seizes your wrist. He was angry. That's why his voice was rough and his chest rising and falling with barley controlled emotions. Could he feel it? your nerves, your lying?

'You left. You should've stayed, y/n, you know Rhysand didn't want you under there with him,' he said. 'For fifty years I haven't been able to sleep through a night thinking about the pain you must have been going through. After I swore to keep you safe, after I promised to catch you every time!'

'You couldn't have stopped me. You didn't promise, Az.'

His grip grew tighter. 'It went without saying.'

You looked around his eyes, seeing the pain and grief there also. Slowly, you brought your other hand up. He flinched as you took his cheek but eventually settled as your thumb ran over his cheekbone. 'I won't leave again, ok? I promise.'

He gulped, letting go of your wrist and looking down. 'I slept here,' he mumbled, but just loud enough to hear you. 'I couldn't sleep in my room. This was the only place I could rest.'

Your heart stuttered. Your hand dropped from his cheek. This man was your mate. Your mate. Your only love, whether or not the cauldron deemed it.

Azriel took your hesitation. 'I-i'm sorry, you probably didn't want to hear that. I've probably ruined your one place of peace-'

'Stay,' you said, before you could think of what you were asking. 'Sleeping wasn't exactly easy under the mountain either. I just trust I won't have to put a wall of cushions between us.' as if you wanted that. As if you haven't thought about his calloused hands all over you.

Azriel smiled and stayed the night.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The third time he almost lost you, broke him...

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

#acotar #azriel #cassian #rhysand #rhys acotar #feyre archeron #tamlin #lucien vanserra #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #cassian x reader #books and reading #booktok #angst #azriel x cassian x reader

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darkbluekies · 5 months

Text

Like a fly in a trap

Rich!female!yandere x reader

Summary: you escape Hedwig, only to be brought back and learn a secret about her family that puts everything into perspective.

Warnings: alcoholic? Yandere, Stockholm syndrome, abuse(?), isolation etc

Word count: 3.5k

A cold breeze finds its way into your bones. You pull the hood closer over your head, heart hammering in your chest. The sun is barely up. You have to catch the bus before her alarm clock rings. When she notices that you’re gone, all hell will break lose.

You can’t pinpoint the moment things changed, you just know that at some point, Hedwig wasn’t the loving, caring girlfriend you got together with, but a clingy, possessive psychopath. Of course, she never shows that side to anyone … not even you. But you’ve been listening in on the calls she makes when she thinks you’re not listening. Wanting to hire hitmen and demanding for people to get hurt, even if they’ve only done as little as speak to you. You can’t say when she became like that … scared that she’s been that through your entire relationship … only that you’ve just started to notice.

You’re not even sure where you’re going. You can’t go home. That’s the first place Hedwig would look. You don’t have anything on you that could be traced. There’s no plan, you just have to get away from Hedwig.

The bus stops in front of you and you get on. You walk through the empty bus, sitting down in the very back and pull the hood of your hoodie closer to you.

Hedwig opens her eyes when the alarm sounds. She can tell right away that something is wrong. The bed is empty … and cold. Quickly, she sits up and looks around, heart stopping. Where are you? She rips the covers off of her body and runs over to the bathroom. Empty. Her pulse is hammering in her head. She can’t hear anything. Hedwig sinks down in the corridor to avoid fainting or throwing up. At this point, she’s unsure what she’s going to do. Her entire body is shutting down. It’s feels like she’s dying.

With shaking hands she picks up her phone and call you. A signal rings through the room and she grows even colder. Your phone is on the bedside table.

“Y/N, no … what”, she gasps in pure horror. “Y/N, don’t do this to me. Oh, God. Oh, my God.”

She presses her hands over her heart.

“Hedwig, dearest, what is wrong?” she hears her father ask.

She looks up and watches her father through her blurry vision. He’s standing in his pajamas, worried eyes looking down at her.

“My dear, what happened?” her father asks again.

“Y/N … Y/N …”, she hyperventilates.

“Has something happened to them?”

“They’re gone! I want them back! I want them back now!” She screams through her sobs. “I want them back this instant!”

“Sweetheart, sweetheart, don’t cry. Daddy will get them back to you.” He hugs her. “Daddy hates seeing his princess so upset. They will be back, I promise you, my little girl.”’

Hedwig wipes her tears and sobs.

They go down to the kitchen where her mother has woken up, already with a glass of wine in her hand.

“My little princess, can you please give your mother and me a smile?” her father begs her. “It will be okay, we will find Y/N again. I have called every person I know who works for the police, private detectives … everyone. I have millions of eyes open.”

Hedwig refuses. She holds her arms over her chest while sitting on a chair. Her mother is sitting beside her, sipping on her red wine while her father is walking back and forth in front of her, stressed out of his mind. When he can’t get Hedwig what she wants, he feels absolutely terrible.

“We will find them, don’t worry”, her father says. “Daddy will do everything to make you happy.”

Hedwig avoids eye contact. If her fathers contacts can’t find you, then she’ll have to contact hers. None in the family knows about the hitmen she knows — and hires often — and neither does she want them to. Worry is eating her up from the inside. She wants nothing more than to hold you in her arms and kiss every part of your soft, wonderful skin. She wants to run her fingers through your hair and make sure that you know that you’re safe with her. She has never been this worried before.

“This is the last stop.”

You nod and rise from your seat. Your legs have fallen asleep since long ago and you have no idea where you are. By now, you’re hungry and tired, wishing nothing more than to sleep. Carefully, you look around. Where are you? You’re surrounded by fields, forests and small, small cabins. With a sigh, you sit down by the side of the road, to think before you start going somewhere. You should try to find a payphone, perhaps, to call your family. No, they wouldn’t be able to help you. If Hedwig wouldn’t hire someone to kill them, she would either pay them or manipulate her way to get what she wants. After all, you fell for her little girl act for so long. If only you had seen how unstable and obsessive she really was before you had tangled yourself this far deep into the relationship. By now, it is too late to cut things off. She has nestled her way into your every day life. Wherever you look, Hedwig’s there in some way, shape of form. She has infiltrated your life like a virus.

You hide your face in your hands. Hedwig’s a fucking spider who has intangled you in her web, slowly draining you of life until she can eat you. What should you do? You can’t go home, can’t talk to anyone you know. If you call the police, she will get away with it. Her family is in the elite class, they always get away with things.

“Hedwig …”, you whisper frustratedly into your hands. “Why have you done this? Why have you given me this much problem? Why me?”

Your stomach growls and you wrap your arms around your body tightly. You have to find food soon. And after that … shelter.

Hours go by. You’ve curled up by a tree to get some kind of warmth, but there’s none to be found. Your body temperature is dropping every minute go by. You have nothing to keep you company, apart from the moon. And weirdly enough, it feels like it is pitying you.

You wake up the following morning by someone trying to catch your attention. An old woman. Your vision is blurry, but you can tell that you’ve never seen her before.

“Hello, are you okay?” she asks worriedly. “What are you doing out here? You’re freezing!”

You can barely hear what you’re saying, you can’t feel your body.

“Do you know who you are?” the woman asks.

You can’t move your body, can’t answer. You’re so cold.

“Do I need to call someone?” she asks.

No answer. She picks up her phone and calls the police, telling them that she’s found a person who’s been sleeping outside the entire night, that they’re unresponsive and ice cold. She tells the cops a description of your characteristics. You feel like shutting your eyes again, so tired.

“No, don’t close your eyes!” she says quickly. “You can die!”

You try to force your eyes to stay open.

The old woman can’t carry you, so she goes to get you blankets and hot tea. While she forces a warm cup in your hands, you can tell that a white car pulls up on the road in the distance.

That’s not a cop car.

“Y/N!”

The familiar, female voice causes you to drop the mug. Hedwig runs all the way over to you and throws herself at your stone cold body. Her warm face hides into your neck.

“My God, darling, you’re freezing!” she gasps and cups your icy cheeks with her hands. “My sweetheart, I’ve been so worried!”

The men behind her thank the old lady for calling the cops and you suddenly understand what’s going on. Once again, the elite has taken over the cops. One of the men are Hedwig’s father. You gulp. This is bad.

The old woman leaves. You want to shout out that they’re not going to help you, that it was this girl’s fault that you endured a night out in the snow for, but you can’t bring yourself to do it, not in in front of Hedwig’s father.

“It’s okay, Y/N, I’m here now”, she says and tries to warm you up with her hands. “You could have died! I’ll never let this happen again, I promise. I’ll never let you out of my sight again!”

She removes her expensive coat and scarf and hangs them over your shoulders, wires the scarf around your neck and blows hot air on your hands. She kisses your forehead. Two of the men, you haven’t seen them before, carry your body to the car and place you in the backseat, right next to Hedwig. She tells the chauffeur to bring up the heat to max.

“I’ve been so worried for you, sweetheart”, she says and holds your icy hands between hers while continuing to blow hot air. “Why did you do that? You scared me to death, Y/N!”

“You have given us some problems, young lady/man”, her father says from the front seat. “You’ve made my daughter very upset.”

You can’t respond. There’s something about her father that terrifies you.

“I don’t ever want to see my little princess upset”, he continues. “I will do everything to make her happy, which means that you need to stay. Do I have to take measures to make sure that you stay with my daughter?”

You gulp and shake your head. Something’s definitely wrong about him.

“I will never let you leave me again”, Hedwig whispers in your ear. “I need you. If i don’t have you … I don’t want to live. Don’t ever try this again. Please.” She seems to realize how she sounds and shakes her head. “Please don't think I want to scare you, I just … I can’t imagine my life without you. I have to keep you with me like this. I know you understand, you’re just cold and tired.”

“You don’t have to drag in your father in your dirty business, Hedwig”, you whisper. “That’s low.”

She brings your cold hands under her shirt, shivering. While you do enjoy the heat, you keep your hands in fists.

“You’re my everything, I had to do what was necessary, I’m sorry”, Hedwig whispers and sniffles. “No one likes me the way you do. You’re the only real person in this world. Everyone else … they’re fake. You’re so special to me.”

You don’t say anything more to her during the entire car ride. When you come back to her mansion, you’re immediately tucked into bed. Hedwig closes the door to her bedroom after her, locking it.

“Here”, she says and placed a silver tray on the bed. “Soup. The chef made it for you.” She sits down and sighs sadly. “Why did you leave me, sweetheart? What have I done? PLease tell me so I’ll make sure to never do it again. I don’t want to be without you.”

“Stop pretending”, you hiss. “You know very well. Talk to me instead of acting like a defenseless school girl.”

“What?”

“I know what you’ve done. I’ve heard your phone calls at night.”

Hedwig’s face drops and grows multiple shades lighter. At first, she doesn’t say anything. Her hands tremble as she panickedly thinks.

“O-Oh, Y/N …”, she starts with an unsteady voice. “I never- … I never-”

“Why me, Hedwig?” you ask, not being able to bring your voice above a terrified whisper.

“Because- … because I love you.”

“You can have anyone you want, you really can … so why me?”

It is unbelievable. You can’t understand why you are worth killing for. What does she see in you that is that special? You could never have anticipated that someone would end human lives … for you. But then again, is anyone worth killing for?

As the realization of reality sets in, along with your exhausted form, you grow tired.

“I’ll have to take precautions from now on”, Hedwig says. “I love you so much, I can never let this happen again.”

“What are you going to do?” you ask coldly. “Send hitmen on me? On my family?”

“No, not you — never you. But …”

“My family, right?”

Hedwig bites her lip before groaning. “I just- … I wish that you never had tried to leave! I don’t want to do these kinds of things! They make me feel so dirty! Fuck, Y/N, why can’t you just … love me again?”

You don't answer. A single tear runs down your cheek. You can't even look at her, which drives her insane.

“Y/N, please!” she begs and reaches for your hand, but you quickly pull away. “Don't do this to me. I love you. I really, really do!”

She starts to sniffle, then sob. You're amazed that just a little touch deprivation causes her to break down completely, but she expects you to be completely normal when people are getting murdered behind your back — on your behalf?

“I want to go home.”

“I can’t let you go, Y/N. I need you here. I can’t live without you.”

“Let me go home. Now.”

“No, Y/N. You need to stay here. I will make you stay here. If you think that I'm going to let the only one that loves me leave, you're wrong.”

“I don't … love you anymore.”

It looks like someone has punched Hedwig right in her ribs.

“Yes you do”, she says quietly, wishing.

You turn your head away.

“I'll let you be”, she says and slowly stands up. “I love you, Y/N. Please don't think I don't.”

You're forced to sleep beside her all night. You've curled up into a ball and she doesn't try to reach for you, like you had expected … but you can hear her cry.

She leaves for school, leaving you all alone, but not before reminding you that she has people in the house that won't let you leave the premises. She tells you that you can go down to the kitchen to get yourself something to eat, but you wait in her room, as a silent protest, for as long as you can manage. When your stomach physically hurts, you sigh in defeat and walk downstairs.

Someone's sitting by the kitchen aisle. A blonde woman who twirls a wine glass slowly. Her eyes are empty, but her appearance is that of a goddess. You recognize her, first as the popular actress you used to watch, and as Hedwig's mother second. You're about to turn around and walk out when her voice stops you.

“Stay.” Her voice is low, almost strained.

You turn back and take a few, slow steps into the marble kitchen. The woman doesn't look up from her twirling, red wine.

“I heard that she found you”, she says and sighs.

You nod carefully.

“They're very alike, you know”, she says, glancing at you, “her and her father.”

“They are?” you ask.

“Yes. Unfortunately.” She nods at the chair in front of her. “Sit down.”

Just like Hedwig’s father, her mother had something in her voice that you don't dare disobey. You sit down, still not being able to look at her.

“Do you know who I am, Y/N?” she asks, sounding like she doesn't expect much.

“I do, ma'am”, you answer. “I used to watch your movies a lot when I was younger. You were awesome.”

Hedwig’s mother smiles slightly, a genuine, warm smile.

“That makes me happy”, she says softly. “Thank you, Y/N. I was scared to have been forgotten.”

“What? No, never. You're an icon. I wish you still did movies.”

“Me too.”

“Why don't you?”

Her smile thins out. “Hedwig’s father … he's … well, let's just say he rather wants me here.” And she adds on, sour grimace on her face: “Where it is safe.”

“That sounds like what-”

“-Hedwig would say, yes. I told you … they're very alike.”

A light turns on in your head.

“Did he … did he take you, too?” you ask, carefully.

“Take and take, not exactly.” Her mother seems to think and the dull look in her eyes returns. “If only it was that quick and direct. He nestled his way into my life, infiltrating every part. First, he wanted to invite me on a date, then help with auditions, then he wanted to be my manager, then director, then boyfriend. He had control of every work related issue … always making sure I never worked intimate with any men, turning down things I really wanted to do … isolating me from my costars. When we married, he wanted me to quit all together, and wanted me to stay home with the child I was pregnant with.”

“Hedwig?”

“Yes.”

“When I was pregnant, I was wishing that she wouldn't inherit that side of her father. I hoped and prayed. But she did. I'm sorry, Y/N.”

“I'm sorry that happened to you.”

The woman gives a weak smile. “Don't be. It's happening to you now, be sorry for yourself. I'm hoping in telling you this, that you somehow can get away before it's too late.”

“Can't you … leave?”

She shakes her head. “It's too late for me.”

“No, it's not. You're still beautiful, Hollywood would love to have you back.”

“Thank you, you're very kind, Y/N. But it's not that easy. He controls more than you can ever imagine. He has made sure to be part of the industry so that I can never return.”

You gesticulate with you hands. “Then … do something else! Prove to him that he can't own you.”

“I envy your enthusiasm. But it wouldn't work, he would get into that too and sabotage for me again.”

“Why does he ruin for you? Doesn't he love you?”

“He does. He just wants me for himself.” She sighs. “I don't know how Hedwig would behave with you, if she would let you work-”

“I don't think so. She has talked about letting me stay home with her so that I could spend time on my hobbies and her taking care of our children.”

“I was afraid of that.” She stands up and downs the last of her red wine. “One thing I'm happy about, is that Hedwig has inherited her father's ability to love. They love too much, I think. And that affects the people around them. If you can't leave, Y/N, I'd advise you to play along. Life is not bad here … as long as you don't try to leave. I promise you that.”

Before she can leave the kitchen, you have to ask her one final question.

“Excuse me, ma'am”, you say and watch how she gives you a look. “Did … did he ever kill for you?”

She doesn't answer.

When Hedwig returns that afternoon, she has a big basket in her hands, and a bouquet of roses.

“Please forgive me for everything I've done”, she whispers and places them both in front of you before sinking down on her knees. “I'm so sorry.”

The basket is filled with your favorite snacks, a few boxes of jewelry and a designer scarf.

“I did what I thought would solve the problem”, she whispers, shaking her head regretfully. “I wanted the people that hurt you yo get what they deserved. I don't have a good explanation for the people that … didn't do anything. I just couldn't bare to see you interact with someone that wasn't me.”

“You're a stupid girl, Hedwig”, you say coldly.

“Yes, yes I am”, she sniffles. “I'm an idiot. Please forgive me.”

You thought back on what her mother had said about how life wasn't bad if you actually did what Hedwig wanted. You looked at her. She really did look like an innocent school girl, sitting on her knees in her school uniform with her hands clasped together, begging for forgiveness with tears streaming down her face. You start to feel bad for her. She is an only child to a pair of parents who went through a weird, macabre relationship. Of course she would want someone to love her and stay with her forever. You have feelings for her, you can't kill them, even if you really want to. Maybe this was what her mother felt, that she really loved Hedwig’s father that much, that she couldn't leave him … and because she knew that he would never let her leave.

If you stay, people won't get hurt. And maybe, just maybe, you can change her.

“I … I forgive you …”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere fics #yandere oc x reader #yandere stories #female yandere #yandere rich girl #rich yandere #yandere oc

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comfortless · 4 months

Text

In Our Angelhood

König x fem!reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. silly & odd strangers -> lovers au, loner/loner dynamic. canon divergent. mentions of physical and emotional abuse, violence, hurt + comfort, mentions of religion & religious imagery (Catholicism), light horror/unease, sexism (from a minor, non-canon character), reader and König are both in their 20s. virgin!König -> smut, unprotected piv.

notes: listen…. I was raised catholic but simply do not remember most of my life in the church. take this as a silly fairytale instead of simmering on the religion bits. <3 reader is implied to be a virgin too but we’re not harping on that who cares.

wc: 10k.

You haven’t had it easy, but seeing the angel wander into the cathedral with purple and yellow stains painting his cheeks, his throat, is safe harbor. Oil on canvas to burrow in like booklice. You like the way he takes the front pew, doesn’t hide himself despite the horror that’s been made of his face; tempts god by raising a hand up to press on the bruises, shivers from the pain. His brow pinches when his gaze drifts upwards, as if to think: You allowed this, look at it!

Most days, he doesn’t pay attention to the sermon, his hands consistently prod at his face or twitch someplace bedded down in the fleece lining of the pocket of his hoodie, always dark green or black. You’re not paying attention, either. You could fall into that absent stare easily, find yourself lost in whichever world bathed in static and hellfire that he’s dreaming up.

The Father is wary of him, no doubt. The man fidgets constantly in his place, toying with the unseen thing in his pocket whilst the priest prattles on about the Holy Mother and the blood of a son she watched led away to slaughter. The angel seems to only display intrigue when preaching shifts to mentions of the wrath of god, of sin, of Hell, as if he knows he’s bound for all of it. Heaven’s not spotless, either, full of cobwebs where God exonerates his wrath.

Sitting beside him is unheard of, the other parishioners stay away, whispering behind upheld palms that ‘there’s just something wrong with him’, but you choose to move from your pew to place yourself at his side, crossing the rows of curious gossips with careful strides as you approach his seat. The wooden bench creaks when he tenses, and you can feel his eyes dart to your form while you remain facing forward, but not a word is spoken during service nor after.

You make a habit of sitting next to him each time he wanders into the church with his fresh bruises. A few weeks of this and he comes back with a gash striped down from below his right eye to his jaw, an ugly maroon trail. He makes a point to sit on the opposite end of the bench that day, and you’re left to stew in the rejection that your attempts at providing your comfort and your friendship have failed.

“What happened to you?” Your voice comes out as a mere squeak, staring up at that horrid cut once the sermon has concluded. You’ve got him cornered between the floral dress cloaking you and the wooden bench brushing against the backs of his knees. It’s almost endearing how the sight of a woman speaking to him, caging him in like this makes him panic, his lips part and his eyes dart.

His chest heaves as a sigh leaves him once his head is angled away, eyes staring at the stained glass just over your shoulder.

“Accident.”

It’s said so simply that one wouldn’t believe it to be a lie if he were simply a voice, rather than a fully grown man cowering in your presence. For half a moment, you wonder his age before a response comes to mind. Assuredly he must be like you, mid-twenties and despondent, he comes here all alone, but you never see him around town. It dawns on you then, that the man probably still lives with his parents, maybe they force their fallen angel to attend church just to be rid of him for a few hours.

“Looks bad.” The response isn’t an insult, but you can hear the way his breath is hissed through his teeth, see the way his jaw tightens as though he took it as one.

“Es tut mer leid,” is all he says in reply.

You take a step back, keeping your eyes on him as you fold your arms behind your dress innocently. The other parishioners have long since fled by now, dusted off their sins like crumbs from their hands and passed the doors of the cathedral with sideways glances at the mismatched two still stood before the altar. You get the sense that maybe you’re the only sinner left in this place when König nervously meanders a step away, but when he walks several stunted strides away, stops to give you a glance over the shoulder, that weight rapidly disappears.

His expression shifts, somber and yearning for something that he can’t bring himself to say before he turns away and leaves you to mull in the disaster of your first conversation.

You begin to worry when he stops showing up for homilies, several weeks of sitting alone on their shared pew. Mass is no different, he remains a distant phantom. The cause for his accident could have very well been the cause for a life ended too soon and you worry yourself sick, shifting in your seat until the courage to ask if anyone knows his address is ripped from your tongue. The answer comes relatively easy, coupled with a flighty look from an older woman who claimed to have seen him seated in the front yard of some decaying home, shooting at a barrel with some gun you almost dare to wonder if he entirely, legally owned.

Despite your better judgement you find yourself staring blankly at his front door an hour later, clutching a brown, paper bag full of goodies from the local bakery for him. The muffled shouting from within keeps you from knocking, the voices of two men in some uproarious vocal war seeping out in whispers through layers of insulation and wall. You feel like a terrified animal, rooted in place as you try to make out the cause for such anger within. The dull thud of flesh meeting flesh pulls you back to reality in such a rapid fall, your knuckles wrap at the door immediately. It all falls silent inside, and a part of you is left fearing for your own safety there, as if those words and furious blows would be focused on you for even daring to bring this angelic stranger a slice of raspberry danish and a blue velvet cupcake.

The door swings open with the whine of hinges that likely have never been oiled, and König has never looked worse. His face looks sickly from bruising, the gash partially healed yet split from a fresh blow readily seeping blood against his thick fingers pressed to his cheek. Your chest fills with a rage you’ve never known and you feels your fingernails curl into the bag like claws, ready to push past this weathered angel and beat the Devil himself with your bare hands.

Instead, you smile at him.

“I brought you something.” You hold up the bag to him, and you’re grateful that he accepts it without asking why you bothered at all or how you even found this accursed pocket of Hell.

“Danke.”

He shifts a little in place as he opens the gift, and though he could not bring himself to smile, the way his larimar eyes seem to swim a little displays his gratitude where words fail him.

A part of you might even pay the smallest bit of gratitude to the fact that he doesn’t mention just went on inside there. Though your eyes search his with blatant curiosity, he turns away each time, allowing the words to remain unsaid. You don’t pry, it’s not your place. You know treading here was not your place either. Angels don’t haunt you like stalking predators, they haunt you with a call, a silent song. Fate seemed a ridiculous concept, but you’re drawn to his very presence as you have been since the moment you first laid eyes on him.

You know you’ve finally won his friendship when you find yourself across from him at a picnic table with a coffee he purchased for you in hand. It’s not how you would have ordered it, some overly sugary thing nearly spilling out with whipped cream and caramel, but it suits what you’re feeling. You ignore the taste, sated enough by a conversation that comes so easily between the two of you that you feel you’ve known him for far longer.

König is actually rather teasing and boastful when he isn’t being questioned about his appearance or what goes on in his family home. He tells you of his dream of becoming a recon sniper with ease, and how the Austrian military denied him despite how ‘perfekt’ he was for the role.

You listen intently as he carries the conversation forward, tells you about his rifle, right down to explaining the anatomy of such a thing.

“Scheisse, you don’t care.” He breathes a laugh too soft for a man his stature after he speaks, wiping away a bit of icing from his bottom lip with the knuckle of his index.

“Yes, I do!”

“Nein, nein, girls don’t play with guns.”

So, maybe he’s a little old fashioned and odd, but his voice is sweet like spiced honey, and you couldn’t fathom any place you would rather spend a gloomy afternoon than seated across from him.

“I bet I could be a better sniper than you,” you jest, taking a sip from your coffee with a little grin on your face when you note the slight furrow of his dark brows and the challenging flicker in his eyes.

His face softens as quickly as that surge of determination had come, taking to look you over with a newfound appreciation in his stare instead.

“I could teach you.”

You spend a moment explaining that you were simply kidding, and his eyes light up as a tinge of red seeps into the mottled colors of a sky in the midst of a storm across his pale cheeks. Like the first break of sun when the deafening rain finally falls to a calming drizzle.

“Shouldn’t you know how to protect yourself, though?” He asks, sheepishly turning his head away, focusing his gaze on fallen leaves instead of you. Extinguishing your own steadfast gaze is difficult, when you find yourself further captivated by the man in front of you. Everything about him is enigmatic; even the sparse glimpses into his life he’s offered to you leave more questions than answers.

“Maybe.” You shrug absently as you lower the styrofoam cup back to the table, hands curled around it.

He turns back to you then, slipping a hand into his pocket to fish out a butterfly knife, latch closed around the shiny handle. It’s the very same color of his eyes, barely a quiet blue, though the blade itself is wicked steel, expertly sharpened. You ogle it in your hands for a moment, flicking it open before he swiftly takes your wrist and firmly shakes his head.

“Careful,” he gruffs as he retrieves it, brushing over your fingertips as the blade is taken back into his large hand. He dutifully shows you how to twirl it, performing a series of little tricks without even having to look at the weapon in his hands. The blade’s dance is swift and graceful, not one cut sullies his fingers. His chest puffs in pride when he notices the way your eyes try to keep up with the steel, and the tricks become more elaborate.

“Can I try?”

“Nein… let me show you how to use it first. Bitte.”

With a nod, you find yourself being led away deeper into the park, leaves crunching under the toe of the man’s boots just in front of you. Assuredly, you shouldn’t be so trusting of a titan with a weapon, especially after hearing the violence going on within his own dwelling, yet you don’t question yourself. He fills lapses of silence with a soft hum, likely some song he knows from his homeland, it’s a pretty tune coming from him. The cadence of his voice is something that sets your mind at ease when he does speak— always a rasp with a nearly giddy lilt to it. It’s pretty.

The trail leads you both down to a fallen tree, the trunk is thick and deteriorating, bark springing up with succulent, golden folds of what he tells you to be laetiporus. König guides you down to your knees with a gentle press against the back of your neck, the large hand is shaking when his calloused fingers meet your flesh. He descends next to you and places the blade in your hands once more, guiding you with a patient nudges to your wrist. The base of the fungus is gingerly cut with each metered motion from you both, and eventually a large clump of it falls free right into the lap of your dress.

“Not the best for foraging, but…”

“I like it,” you chime with a smile, marveling at the little blade in your hand before your gaze settles to the cluster resting on your lap. “What do we do with this though?”

König shrugs, lifting the cluster of mushrooms to your face, clutching it as though it were a bouquet of flowers with a wolfish grin on his face.

“Eat it.”

“It’s dirty, you eat it.”

Those broad shoulders shrug again as he peels a bit of it off and shoves it between his lips, chewing the filthy things several times before swallowing it down. Your nose scrunches in feigned disgust, before a laugh leaves your lips at the crooked grin he gives you in answer.

“That’s so gross, König!”

It’s possible that he’s been yearning for someone’s focus to shift upon him like this, not in anger or disgust, but something far more gentle. He lets you keep his knife, and the rest of the afternoon is spent filled with comfortable conversation as you wander around the forest together. When the sun begins to set, you actually find yourself a bit disappointed that he doesn’t suggest a bout of stargazing or something more.

It’s all felt too natural to let go of so soon, and you’ve no idea when you’ll see him again. A seed of warmth takes root in your chest when he walks you back to your home. The friendship is something you’ve both needed it seems, because his smile doesn’t even falter when he leaves you at the door to retreat back to the horrible place that he calls home.

— ཐིཋྀ —

You’re sick the next Sunday. A small cold, nothing worthy of fretting too much over. Over the counter medicine does the trick to keep you somewhat comfortable as you lie back against the sofa, ample pillows and blankets surrounding you. There are chores begging for your attention: the dishes stacked in the sink, a laundry basket full to the brim, and you can’t recall when the last time that you vacuumed was. A few days of forgetting and these things overlap into a miserable, tedious pile.

You wish you weren’t so quick to call blame to one particular reason.

Spending time with the angel has left you carrying a weight you’re not certain you can continue to bare. In fact, your cold may have come from fearing for his safety. Whatever ghouls he keeps locked up in that house, tormenting him endlessly… it’s difficult to keep yourself together when you haven’t seen him in days. He could very well be dead. There’s some comfort in knowing that he knew how to protect himself; he had shown you, and his stature was undeniable evidence of such. It just doesn’t feel enough without the physical proof.

He allowed himself to be hurt anyway. It was strange. Some people were simply difficult to comprehend, and you didn’t even begin to know how to unravel the strange spool that’s rolled into your life now.

Especially not when realization hits and you come to terms with one simple fact: You miss König. His eyes, his strange interests, even the overly-sweet drink he purchased for you— you find yourself missing all of it; the light and the darkness. He knows where you live; he walked you home, and yet, he hasn’t stopped by. You imagine it must be that you merely misread the supposed closeness. It didn’t matter. König was just an acquaintance, after all.

You take your mind off of him by turning on the television, a hand rested over your aching head and the other thumbing at the remote in search for anything that could hold your attention longer than a few seconds. The town is small and the news is never interesting; a traffic jam on a road you’ve never traveled, a safe at the grocery store, the sorts of things that come as nothing more than a buzzing to fill the empty air. Focusing on a movie sounded far too tedious, too. Eventually you give up, turning the television off and tilting your head back to stare up at the ceiling, all white and empty.

The bell tolls again, it’s ringing far softer now from within the walls of your home, drawing your attention back to the woods— to König. Gentle chiming is a strange thing to remind you of the bloodied titan. It exudes a sense of peace, like the safety of church bells. You feel your conscious slipping, curled into yourself there as your eyes flutter shut.

Only, the calm is short lived. A knock comes only minutes later, the soft graze of knuckles against your door as though whoever lurks outside didn’t actually want to disturb you too terribly. After a fifth knock, you notice they’re not leaving. It was probably best to answer sooner rather than later so you might be left to your sulky slumber.

It takes a moment to gather your bearings and straighten yourself out enough for company. Your head is still aching terribly, brain fogged by the weight of your sickness. When the latch of the lock clicks and you haphazardly swing your door open, you’re met with the view of a broad chest covered in black.

“König?” You murmur, raising your head to look up at him. It’s not the sight of his face that you’re met with, only his eyes visible beneath the black fabric concealing him. The remains of an old t-shirt, and you had your doubts that whatever he had hidden beneath it could be any more intimidating than he looks now.

“Es tut mer leid,” he huffs, his voice a bit tight as he stares down at you, pupils slightly dilated and irises flicking from your face to the room just behind you. He looks a total contrast to you, unable to help the slight upturn of your lips from just the sight of him. Perhaps he had missed you, too. “Can I come in?”

Again, you should be apprehensive, but in the end you step aside and gesture for him to enter. He readily obliges, stepping past you as he ducks beneath the door frame and walks a bit stiffly to the center of the room.

“You alright?” You manage, shutting the door behind you and leaning against the wood. The flutter in your chest makes it difficult not to break into a more obvious smile— you’re happy he’s here, even in such a sorry state.

“Ja, just…” König pauses for a moment before taking to the sofa, seeming so much smaller than he truly is when he finally seats himself. “You know Lukas?”

Lukas, a parishioner. The man with the ever-present smirk on his face. You had seen him before, spoken to him in passing a time or two. He wasn’t particularly pleasant. You had even heard him join in with the others, commenting on König’s appearance— a bully and a gossip, no different from most of the others. The man couldn’t have been any younger than you or König, still, he had all of the maturity of a teenager.

“Yes?”

“They kicked me out because of him.”

You tilt your head, furrowing your brow in confusion. It wasn’t like the church to turn anyone away, especially not one who had been a part of the congregation for as long as König had. Your bewilderment spurs him to continue.

“At the cathedral.”

“I got that,” you hum out a bit hoarsely as you pad over to sit on the couch, opposite of him. The pitiful look he shoots you then, through the holes in his makeshift mask makes him look like little more than a pleading puppy, begging for comfort that he would never actually request. “It’s alright, König.”

“Nein… I will not get to see you as much.”

If König were not a grown man wearing an ominous veil over his face, you would almost dare to think he was pouting. It’s ridiculous, but it warms your heart that he cares; he enjoys the time spent with you just as much as you did. Perhaps more, if what you’ve gathered about him supplied any hints. He didn’t seem to have anyone at all— only you.

What the church won't tell you is that angels hurt sometimes, too. The Father will tell you that they're The Lord's army, just as impervious to bullets as they are to temptations. With an abundance of wings and eyes, they are such fragile things… how could they truly be invincible? Unlike the seraphim thriving in a heaven far beyond your reach, or the battered angel seated beside you, you won't deny yourself a reprieve or a request for comfort.

“We could just make our Sundays for us, yeah?” You don’t think to stop yourself when you extend the offer to him. The way his eyes seem to light up then is nothing short of a burning ember. Missing tedious sermons couldn’t be that sinful. God could turn the other cheek for now, you thought.

“I would like that.”

You hum in response, reaching for the little bottle of ibuprofen on the coffee table as that ache in your head begins to throb again. König’s eyes track you the entire time, shoulders slumping and eyes narrowing when he pieces it together.

“You don’t feel well..,” he says sternly, already rising to his feet to explore your home before a protest can even leave your lips. You hear the sounds of cabinets being flung open in the kitchen, the refrigerator flung open before he returns to kneel at your side with a glass of water. You weakly fumble with the lid of the bottle, offering him your thanks as he holds the cup out for you. Childproof lids are a pain, clicking incessantly rather than just opening when you need them to; each second feels like an hour passing as he stares at you like the strangest little creature he’s ever laid eyes on.

You feel your face warm in embarrassment when he sets the glass aside and pries the bottle from your hands, opening it up with ease before slipping two of the pills in your waiting palm. You down the medicine with a sip of water, nearly choking on it when he raises his hand to your forehead and gently presses against it to check your temperature.

“I’m fine, König,” you huff out, playfully batting at his hand. He remains insistent, not drawing away until you assume he’s convinced you aren’t feverish. “It’s just a cold.”

Your angel has never seemed sweeter than now, with worry painted clear in his blue eyes. He remains quiet, lost in thought for a moment before gently pressing you back against the couch with the press of his fingertips against your shoulder. The throw blanket is tucked over you in an instant. If the thought had occurred to you before, you imagined he would likely be rather clumsy when caring for another, and yet this all feels practiced. He’s told you he’s killed, in the military, yet you couldn’t imagine such gentle hands doing anything of the sort now as you curl up with a mumbled, “Thank you.”

“Sleep.”

You didn’t want him to leave. Impulsivity is enough of an excuse to take his hand, intertwine your fingers. He doesn’t pull away, not until your eyes close and sleep takes you once more. Only then does he leave your side and your home, locking the door behind him.

— ཐིཋྀ —

“Yeah… he said he saw a demon in there. All shadow.”

“Come on… that’s a lie. You know he was just scared!”

“I don’t know, man. I don’t think he would lie about something like that!”

You’re not trying to eavesdrop. It’s just that teenagers are never keen on keeping their voices down, at least not around here, it seemed. You’re already ten minutes late, having promised König you would meet him at the coffee shop at noon. You don’t have time to be standing around listening to children chittering about town myths. Especially not ones that make you feel so uneasy.

When you had heard them, they were always about the haunted church tucked far away from prying eyes, hidden somewhere in the forest circling the town. No one knew where it was for certain, but many claimed to have wandered there. None of those stories really held any weight; there were no pictures or other fragments of evidence, just voices. The only thing that made those tales seem believable was the bell. You had heard stories about it since you were a child. They ranged from seeing specters, to smelling perfume wafting about in the small graveyard supposedly next to it with no one else around, and even a strange one about finding a corpse there.

Seeing a demon was a new one.

You supposed that someone or something had to be ringing that bell at the odd hours during the day and throughout the night. It was never on time, always several minutes after the beginning of an hour had begun. The thought was a little eerie, and if you thought too hard about it— a little sad. Picturing some poor lost soul stuck there for an eternity, damned to ring a cursed bell only for no one to ever come. In retrospect, it really was no wonder why it reminded you just a bit of him; damned to haunt this town and return time and time again to his own personal Hell.

When the bell chimes again, the children take off towards the noise, leaving you alone on an empty street. Their shouts about how they were going to find that demon and chase it out echo until they’re too far away to make sense of the rest of the conversation.

Your heart feels a bit torn. It was best to leave things like that alone, but… the poor thing must have been lonely, lonely like him.

Maybe it’s a sign from God, as if to remind you of how you’re treading deeper into the dark with every passing Sunday.

You haven’t attended mass since you and König started hanging out. You consider that it’s your own guilt spurring you to fear this unknown thing lurking out in the woods, if it even existed at all. There was something about forsaking a religion you had grown up with for a man you had only just met that was both exciting and heartbreaking.

The walk to the coffee shop feels almost unbearable, your steps sluggish, yet the second you make it inside with the little bell chiming above your head you’re put at ease. König hadn’t taken your tardiness as initiative to leave. The man was tucked in the far corner of the shop, seated at a table too small with his own drink and yours before him.

“No hood today?” You ask as you approach, staring at his scarred face in reverie. The cut below his eye had mostly healed, and you don’t note any new bruising.

He shakes his head with a little smile, gesturing for you to take a seat— not across from him but at his side.

“Do you want me to wear it?” He asks once you’ve taken your seat.

“No, I like seeing you.”

König is handsome. The realization dawns on you, sharp and searing like a bolt of thunder when he flashes you a lazy smile, propping his elbow up on the table to rest his cheek against his open palm.

To quell your sudden embarrassment, calm the warmth pooling along your cheeks, you tell König about what you had heard on your way here. He listens in silence as you prattle on about the haunted church that no one has ever truly found, about the demon lurking in its depths. It sounds silly, even to your own ears as you recount the ridiculous myth you had heard in passing, but König looks a bit more rigid with each word you breathe out.

When you finish, he slowly shakes his head, eyes focused on the door as you take a sip of your coffee.

“You don’t really believe that,” he says.

“‘Course not. I just thought it was interesting...”

“Do you want to see it?”

You pause for a moment, considering the offer. Perhaps with König there you would feel safe, sate your curiosity and enjoy a little adventure as well. You still had the butterfly knife he had given to you, too. Your own little token of protection, and if that failed you would still have an angel at your side. Maybe he would teach you those intricate little dances on the trek there, hold your hand when you found yourself too afraid to brave whatever may come. If you couldn’t find the place at all then that would be nothing more than a nice memory to look back on.

“I think so.” The thought of feeling his warm hand in your own again is enough to spur you on. That feeling may have been more terrifying than any demon at all.

“We will go tonight then. I know where it is.”

“Oh… that soon?”

König gives your shoulder a playful, gentle nudge.

“Ja. I’ll take you.”

— ཐིཋྀ —

It’s not a date.

It’s a misadventure.

Still, you find yourself preparing for it as though it were a date. You bother with a stick of mascara and a bit of lip oil, a dress just slightly more revealing than the ones you wore to service. You tell yourself that you’re dressing up for the memory, not for the angel. That doesn’t stop you from ogling yourself in the mirror, tugging down your dress just a bit so it fits over your cleavage in a way that seems appealing.

You imagine the Holy Mother would probably chide you well if she were to step down from Heaven and see you now, tell you to remain chaste and pure until your wedding night. Oddly enough, it doesn’t tear you up with guilt— it only makes you giggle a bit as you lift the hem of your dress and twirl in place.

It isn’t a date, it’s the least romantic thing you could think of, but he’s coming to whisk you away into the night and it feels like one.

König, gentleman that he seems to be, doesn’t keep you waiting either. You both had settled on going right as the sun began to set after you had finished your coffee and informed him that you needed to finish a few chores and get ready before going on a night long endeavor. Just as the light outside began to turn to a pumpkin glow you hear the knock at the door. It’s louder than the last time he came by— he’s excited too, you can feel it without even gazing upon him.

You take your jacket, patting the pocket to ensure the knife is in its proper place before bounding toward the door, a skip in each step. Tonight would be special, sweet, and tender; it would be all of the things you had repressed since you first saw him.

As you turn the knob and pull it inward, the man hardly has the courtesy to hide his eagerness either. His face visibly flushes when he sees you, all dressed up just for him. You wished you could read his thoughts, have just one moment where you truly had some sort of telepathic ability as you once believed was possible when you were a child.

Graciously, as the two of you begin to venture out towards the woods, with you trying to match his lengthy strides as you walk side-by-side, you don’t need any telepathy.

“You are so pretty,” König mumbles, facing forward rather than looking directly at you. His voice is the quietest you had ever heard it now, barely above a whisper.

If you had the courage to kiss him right then, you would have reached for his scarred face and peppered a dozen over every mark, held him like that until his cheeks went up in flames.

“So are you,” you huff out instead.

Though he doesn’t outright call you a liar, something tells you that he doesn’t believe the words you’ve spoken. The angel falls silent, doesn’t turn to you and merely continues to lead you further out as the sky swells with a brilliant purple, the silhouette of a crescent moon peaking out from high up above. You would tell him a million times if it would make him believe you, then. He doesn’t fiddle with a concealed blade in his pocket around you, and together, he seems so much less lonesome and battered. You know that he’s comfortable with you; his discomfort stems from somewhere within, something you couldn’t reach to pry away from him.

You believe that you’re patient. You could bear anything he had to offer, good or bad; you would accept the burdens just as readily as the gifts— knives and the taste of sugar on your tongue.

The streets of the town aren’t as quiet tonight, and though there are no children with their silly stories idling about, you recognize the voice of a man a few meters off. When you look away from the tree line in the distance, your gaze settles on Lukas leaned up against the wall of the old antique shop. The place hadn’t been touched in ages, yet baubles and little porcelain dolls all covered in a generous layer of dust still lined the shelves in the window. His cell phone is propped between his shoulder and his cheek as he speaks, until his green eyes settle on König who halts in place at your side.

You know that your fantasy of a perfect evening is ruined the moment Lukas rushes a goodbye to whoever was on the receiving end of that call and slips his phone into the pocket of his coat.

“What’s going on here?”

The man is no demon, but he’s arrogant and cruel like one; he sounds enough like one when he laughs in your direction— looks enough like one when he makes a cupping motion before his chest as if to signify your breasts.

König doesn’t respond, but he steps in front of you, shielding you behind him as though you’re a little lamb in need of a snarling maw to keep you protected. You don’t need him to protect you, not truly. You aren’t a little girl, nor are you the one that shows their face covered in a mask of pain.

You’re finally getting a glimpse, a little look at what he must face every time he dares to cross paths with another person.

“We’re just taking a walk,” you say confidently, as you raise your hand to give König’s sleeve a little tug.

Let’s just go.

König doesn’t budge, unmoving like a gargoyle as he stares down at the smaller man before the both of you. His large hands clench at his sides and you see the flames of Hell flaring up in his blue eyes.

“Skipping mass to fuck the freak, is that right?” Lukas tuts with a roll of his eyes.

You’re amazed how Lukas displays not an ounce of fear— even you’re afraid. König wouldn’t hurt you, a part of you was certain, but the way he looked now was so unlike the passive, lost angel you had taken him to be. You take a step back, realizing that whatever comes to pass next is not something that you could stop even if you cling to König and plead for him to clear his mind and let this go.

They’re just words, despite the way they claw at your heart.

“Didn’t think you were such a slut.”

König is no longer much of an angel in your eyes when he leaps at the other man and lands a blow directly to his unsuspecting, smirking face. The sound is a loud, a horrible crack. It’s not like the soft thunder of sudden emotion, but one of a tooth being dislodged from the smaller man’s jaw. Lukas falls back, directly onto his backside against the hard sidewalk with a low groan of pain. His hands reach up to clutch at his face, bright blood trickling from his mouth like a stream.

It’s not enough. Not to König.

Your eyes squeeze shut the moment you hear another thud, and the third sends your running without so much as a thought in your head. The sounds of your own shallow breaths deafen the world around you, drowning out the violence taking place behind. You don’t consider where you’re headed, your eyes remain closed until the sounds of pavement against your soles dissipates and you’re left only with the thumps of your shoes hitting soil.

It’s dark when you stop to gather your bearings. The canopy of tree limbs, crooked and curved above you, blocking out any glimpse of even the moon. You can’t even see your hands when you hold them up in front of your face. When the adrenaline begins to subside, you feel foolish for running away— especially now that you find yourself horribly lost in an unfamiliar area. You turn back to look for the way that you had came, but see no lights from the town piercing through the dark.

You’re alone here, bathed in inky black, in perfect silence.

There are no footsteps chasing after you— König isn’t coming, not to save you. Not when you saw him for what he truly was, you imagined he read the accusation across your face when you ran away from him. It hurts you, too, to think of your lonely angel turned devil. How he saw the word ‘monster’ written in your eyes, wide with fear as you left him. You wondered if he could cry at all, if he was now.

You didn’t even care if Lukas was okay.

You doubted the man was even conscious anymore, lying limp in a puddle of his own blood. Whether he deserved it or not wasn’t for you to decide, but a part of you considers that he certainly did.

Trying to retrace the steps you took in flight proves futile, if anything you think you’ve only sunken further into the woods. Terribly lost and vulnerable, you reach for the knife in your pocket to try and regain some courage only to find it’s no longer there; you must have dropped it somewhere.

The walk feels aimless and fear creeps up on you from every small thing. A snap of a twig off in the distance sends you running once more despite the aching in your chest and limbs. The thought of being utterly helpless with no one in sight to lend their aid brings the sting of tears to your eyes.

Worst of all, however, is the bell.

Closer, it sounds dreadful. A haunting cacophony of noise roars above you, not far off. The bell is rung softly at first, a gentle pull of the rope held fast within it before it begins to grow more desperate, louder still. You swear you’ve turned in the opposite direction when you make it into a clearing, only to find yourself faced with the chapel of myth. The tower housing the dreadful bell is shrouded in shadow, and the damned thing actually has the courtesy to fall silent when you step past the last tufts of shrubbery to make it out into the open area.

The air feels colder here, suffocating almost, as though you’ve been doused in ice water. The silence is more dreadful than the pain emitted from Lukas’ bloody mouth, worse than the ringing of a bell or the droning of another dull sermon.

You don’t fall to pieces, but you do drop to your knees, sullying the ends of your dress with dirt as you stare up at the ominous, white building before you. No demons poke their heads from the windows, no whispering fills your ears from the graveyard mere paces away. It’s void and empty, and that feels somehow worse.

It would be a long night, but you knew wholeheartedly you were not going to find your way home without the sun to guide you. Catching a glimpse of your flesh in the dim light reveals a menagerie of small cuts and bruises, flesh marred from scraping tree limbs and slamming into broad trunks in the darkness.

There was no way that you were sleeping, despite the way you ached for rest. Even blinking made you feel vulnerable and exposed here. This was not an unholy place, but perhaps the most sacred you had ever lain eyes on. It was untouched and wild, even the descriptions of angels written in scripture seemed less so.

You find your footing for long enough to seat yourself at the side of the small building, your head rested against the wall as you draw your knees up to your chest. The sound of your own breath fills the silence in the air, but you don’t feel alone anymore. It’s paranoia and you know it, there’s no way such a humble place could be haunted. Still, the feeling of being watched causes your skin to prickle, and you long more than ever for König’s knife to be fitted between your fingers.

It’s when the sounds of footsteps draw near that you lose all composure. Somewhere off to your right, something was walking towards you— too quick and heavy to be a curious animal.

You rise to your feet in haste and go to the only place you can think of to find sanctuary— directly into the old church, slamming the heavy wooden door behind you. It’s empty inside, apart from an overturned desk and a few chairs you can make out from the dim light leaking through the window. Everything is bathed in dust and it smells nauseatingly sweet and sour, like cobwebs and musk, a combination that does little to set you at ease.

Though the room is small and empty, several doors and a small hallway are off to the back and you imagine the demon leering at you from one of them, just out of sight as you stumble to crouch behind the altar.

You don’t remember when last you prayed, and you don’t bother with it now, either. A prayer wouldn’t save you from whatever horrid thing come crawling out of the woods hunting for you. As if sensing your defeat, the door begins to creak open, the hinges whining as the godforsaken beast began to lumber inside, just as the bell strikes up again.

You swear you can hear the rapid beating of your heart above all other noise, and though you wish for nothing more than to squeeze your eyelids shut and bathe out the sight in nothing but dark, you can’t look away.

The demon is impossibly tall, shrouded entirely in shadow just as the children had said. Its eyes don’t glow and you can’t catch sight of fangs or claws, but it’s ominous enough as it slowly wanders inside, turning its head to look around the room— to look for you.

Your palm rests over your mouth to muffle your breathing, but to no avail. Panic swells within you, its grip tighter than any corset, any vise.

Until your eyes adjust to the dark figure properly. The damned thing is nothing but familiar, comforting even. No demon could ever make you feel as warm as an angel. Your vision fills with unshed tears, relief and regret overpowering any lingering dread.

The demon is not some screeching beast that clawed its way from Hell at all, only…

“König…” You breathe out quietly as you drop your hands to the wooden floor below you and slowly crawl forward. His shrouded head cocks in your direction, and if not for his stature it may have been even cute the way he rushes toward you; thundering steps as the angel no longer walks, but runs in your direction with his arms outstretched.

You lack the time to flinch back from the suddenness, because the moment he reaches you, you’re pulled into a pair of thick arms, shaking as they curl around you tightly. Your face presses into his chest as you circle your arms around his middle in turn.

“Let’s not do that again,” he rasps, pulling you somehow closer as his veiled chin rests against the top of you head. “I am sorry that I scared you… He just…”

“Stop apologizing,” you whisper as your fingers dig into the fabric of the dark hoodie. You didn’t want to hear another apology, not from him; English or German it mattered not, all that concerned you was the fact that the two of you were safe. Heaven and Hell all the same.

König sucks in a breath above you as he carefully pulls you to your feet. The bell and the darkness surrounding no longer brought you fear, only calm in such a protective hold.

He brings you back home, carrying your weight with ease as the forest disappears behind you. The hood over his face remains in place, and a part of you wonders why he even bothered to wear it at all. Perhaps not to scare you further if Lukas managed to open up that wound, or more likely so you wouldn’t have to see the face of a man so easily moved to violence at all.

König drops you off at the door without another word. The butterfly knife you had left behind someplace in the forest is slipped into your hand, the blue handle clasped shut. The weight no longer feels like that of a developing bond, but of parting.

The sting burrows into your heart instantly as he turns away from you. With his first step you find yourself grabbing at his arm, pulling him back with a desperation you had never known prior.

“Please stay,” you voice hoarsely, digging your fingernails into his sleeve. “We were supposed to… to spend tonight together.”

Not here, of course, but out there shivering in fear of the unknown. This doesn’t feel unfamiliar, you know what you’re doing when you offer to let a beast into your home, to lead him to your bedside and hold him throughout the night, and not a word of it slips out carrying the burdens of apprehension.

He turns toward you as his long fingers circle your wrist, thumb brushing against the back of your hand. If you could see his eyes now, you would find the creep of longing buried in a sea of blue.

“You want that?”

“Of course.”

Your bedroom seems even smaller with König inside of it, your bed even more so. The tumble beneath sheets is clumsy, and he has to bend his knees in a way that digs against your own flesh just to fit properly. The veil is cast off with only a muttered complaint in his mother tongue, something you could decipher without even knowing the words. You shush him with a kiss, sweet and gentle when his face is bared. A silent apology for your momentary fear, for your desperate sprint away, for making him wander into that cursed place to bring you home.

He reciprocates clumsily, all too eagerly searching beneath the sheet to grip at your waist as his tongue pries apart your lips. You break apart with a sigh, looking all the part of an adoring devotee as you melt against him, head tucked in the divide between his shoulder and the column of his neck.

“I thought you were afraid.” König sounds a bit dazed, fingers gently prodding against the fabric of your dress as his hand drifts lower to hold your hip. “I was worried.”

“I just don’t understand,” you answer in a soft murmur. “Why you…”

Your voice trails off as he pulls you closer again, his mouth pressed firmly against the crown of your head as he presses a kiss there. There’s a vulnerability to his touch, soft and tentative as his hand trails along your spine, resting just above your rear.

You could ask him anything now and you know that he would supply an answer, tell you any secret you would like to hear, but you don’t. In due time. Right now all that you craved was his closeness as you both drift off to sleep.

— ཐིཋྀ —

The haunted chapel is less so during the day. You haven’t heard the bell toll since last night, any lapse of conversation is filled with the chirping of birds or your own shy laughter each time you marvel up at the man seated next to you, his hand petting your hair, your cheek, anywhere he can touch. There’s nothing ominous about the place anymore, all filled with the bright colors from the stained glass windows as sunlight drifts through, painting the room of broken furniture and cobwebs with softness and warmth.

You’re lying on your back over a soft blanket you had thought to take along, the picnic basket König had pried from your hands on the walk here, once filled with pastries and fruit, now empty discarded at your side.

He tells you of why he stays in that house, deals with his father’s abuse— all for an ailing mother that’s never loved him, not as she should. König takes care of her, demonstrates love the best he knows how despite the absence of it during his childhood. You hadn’t asked, but he speaks more freely with each moment that’s passed since the kiss. It makes you somber, angry almost, that someone you saw such beauty in could be treated this way. You’re no savior, you can’t pull him free from it all, but to offer the angel a reprieve at all is enough. At least, to him.

He even assured you that Lukas, or ‘the arschloch’, was absolutely fine. A few loose teeth and a broken nose wouldn’t kill him, but maybe it would teach him to keep his gossiping mouth shut.

In turn, you tell him more about yourself. He kisses you after each description of hurt, cherishes you endlessly with that adoring gaze, gives you the cutest laugh in response to you telling him that in truth, you wouldn’t have cared if he had punched a hole straight through Lukas. You just hadn’t wanted him to get into trouble, to leave your side.

“You’re like an angel to me,” you murmur softly, your eyes closed as he lays next to you after the innumerable kisses you’ve shared this morning alone.

The words stifle him momentarily, and your eyelids open only to see the man staring back at you with a look of utter devotion. It’s torture for him, maybe, the way you supply him with every spoonful of sweetness he hadn’t tasted prior. He remains silent when his hand grazes the hem of your dress, and you nod to him in silent consent before the delicate fabric is swept up over your head and brought to rest on top of the basket forgotten.

Kisses are sweet like the coffee he gifts to you, but the ones he supplies now are far more urgent, warm like the steel of his knives after being caressed by rays of the sun for too long. It’s worship in a sense, the way he tastes the salt of your flesh from your neck to collarbone, and further to the space between your breasts. Your bra is pushed down, blue lace resting just below your sternum before your mind catches up to you.

“Should we..?” You ask, though it’s not the wrath of God that you fear, only that his clumsy kisses and bereft demeanor all signal that perhaps he didn’t have much, or any experience at all.

His pupils are dilated, eyes nearly black when he seizes the plush skin of your tit in a hand, the pad of his thumb brushing over your stiffened nipple.

“Ja… I want to..,” he mutters quietly, chin resting against your tummy as he gazes up at you. “Can I..?”

König looks cute like this— breathless and pleading, an unhinged sort of desire bared plainly in each word he breathes. Two decades and then some of never having this… and now you’re in his grasp, beneath the roof of this holy place.

“Yes,” you whisper to him, reaching lower to ghost your fingertips over his face, already flushing in color. He leans into your touch pressing a kiss to your palm before rearing back enough to slot his fingers along the hem of your white panties. His breath is almost ragged when he tugs them down enough, to reveal your soft mound and a grin creeps across his lips when he finds you already wet.

Your back arches when the back of his cold hand meets your core, petting you appreciatively there, pulling a shiver from you that only spurs him to carry on. The underwear is discarded in almost record time and the rip of the delicate lace tearing from your body echoes throughout the little chapel. A sulking protest nearly leaves your lips before a long finger is slipped into your slit. König probes at your entrance, gathering your slick onto his fingers with a soft groan that leaves you breathing shallowly. For all his inexperience, he’s eager; eager to prod at you until the digit finds that spongy, sweet spot that brings you to moan. His thumb toys with your clit with each mewl of encouragement spilling from your lips, gently flicking before circling over you until you’re tightening around his finger and soaking the blanket below.

“Are you close?,” he asks through a desperate pant, free hand pawing at the bulge in his trousers.

You shake your head weakly, thighs trembling as he thrusts his finger into you again. “Just feels good.”

That only spurs him to make you come, a second finger thrust into you so quickly you feel your mind go fuzzy. The sounds are obscene enough without the quickened pace of his hand. You’re teetering on the edge within mere moments, crying out his name only to be left entirely empty.

“Hah..” He gives you a little laugh when he realizes what he’s done, torn you away from a near perfect bliss. You stare at him dumbly, eyes half-lidded and lips parted as he deftly unbuckles his belt and pries his cock from his pants, flushed red and leaking headily. “I want to feel it…”

To his credit, he’s done well to prepare you for the girth of him, and you’re already too far gone to whine over the loss of relief. “Then feel it. Please.”

There’s no hesitation when he grinds his tip through the mess of slick painting your sex. When he finds that pressing himself against your clit wills you to grind your hips back against him he practically growls. He continues the motion several times before his patience entirely dissipates and the head of his thick cock is thrust into your entrance. König’s head drops against your chest at the sensation of your walls enveloping him, but he doesn’t growl or groan as you anticipated— he hisses, a gruff inhale of breath through gritted teeth.

You’ve fallen into rapture with the first thrust, filled entirely by the length and weight of his cock slowly spearing into you. He’s careful, forcing himself to continue languidly rather than taking you like you know he wished to, a starved man deprived for far, far too long.

König pulls back, grasping at your hips to tilt them upward, looking down at where your bodies connect. You know he’s in that dangerous state of pure euphoria, you feel it too as his cock twitches inside of you, tip hitting your cervix in a way that’s both nearly painful and causing you to leak further.

“You have.. an engel’s pussy,” he grits out.

It’s… embarrassing and ridiculous, his attempt at dirty talk, but despite your shame you pivot your hips forward, grinding against the mess you’re both making on the patch of dark hair above the heavy cock impaling you.

“König… please keep going.” Your voice a mere whine.

He obliges without a second wasted, pulling himself out to slam back into you. There’s no rhythm to his thrusts, not for a while, but each still manages to hit that spot inside of you that screams for his attention. König isn’t trying to be rough or selfish with you, keeping one hand grasping desperately to your hip as he plays with your clit with the other— pinching softly, deftly rolling his thumb over the sensitive bud; continuing his motions until you’re spasming beneath him, clutching him like a vise and weaving your fingers into his shirt to pull him down to you.

You moan into his mouth as he pushes his tongue past your lips, rolling it against your own in time with every rapidly faltering thrust. Your climax hits like a flash of blinding light with a mere circle of his thumb, accidentally in time with the head of his length brushing against that sweet spot. It’s not a hiss that König emits then, but a loud groan as you milk him entirely. He comes with you, cock throbbing as he stills entirely, every muscle in his body pulled taut as he floods your cunt with his seed. You hold him close to your breasts as his gasps soft, riding out the fleeting waves of pleasure until he wills himself to pull out and lie at your side.

“Mein Gott..,” he huffs, curling an arm over your waist. You giggle as you relax against him again, turning on your side to bury your face against his chest. Everything feels like the summer despite the chill outside, the winter doesn’t touch you here, nothing could. The stress of yesterdays melt away, the longing finally subsiding, too.

The world fades away there in that old church, cradling you both within its walls until the sun begins to set, golden light filtering into a hazy gray, before you both have to force yourselves to tear apart from the other and carry on home.

“Will you come by tomorrow?” You ask him quietly, as you stand at your doorstep, a hand lingering on the knob.

König nods, hugging you tightly from behind as he leans over to press a kiss to your cheek, another against your jaw as you smile sweetly at him.

“I will come every day, if you want me to.” He murmurs, drawing back just enough to search your expression for any signs of doubt, fear. You don’t feel either of those things, only love; as though being bonded to him like this is something hallow and sacred in its entirety. Nothing clandestine— you would run to the church right now with his hand in your own and make a mockery of all who have used their words to harm him if it would prove anything at all.

“I do want you to.”

He presses a kiss to your temple as he turns you around to face him, squeezing you a bit tighter when his hands find your hips. You kiss him in turn, leaving a trail of demure little kisses along the chest of his dark shirt.

In time, he wouldn’t have to leave at all. For now, the light the two of you share seems just enough.

#könig x reader #konig x reader #konig x you #könig x you #könig #konig #cod fanfiction #könig fanfiction #konig fanfiction #cod fanfic

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aemxnd · 1 year

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midnight rain | daemon targaryen x niece!reader

Can the sunshine win over the darkness?

Heavily inspired by a gender-swapped Taylor Swift’s Midnight Rain as requested by @prettycutebunny, I hope I did your idea justice (and apologies for changing one lyric to suit the plot!)

WORDS: 5.3k (I’m so sorry)

WARNINGS: canon typical incest, dubcon, angst everywhere you look, p in v, v fingering, physical violence, breeding, degradation, praise, pain kink, Daemon being a real asshat, reader is Viserys and Alicent’s third child, reader has silver hair for plot point, Stockholm Syndrome, terrible High Valyrian translations, crying, power imbalance due to age difference.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

My requests are open! 🖤

Such a pretty little songbird.

Little Starling, your mother had once named you as a child. A free spirit, bound only by the towering castle walls that clipped your wings as the youngest child of the King and his second Queen. Weeks, months, years passed daydreaming beneath your favourite tree, reading the same fantastical books and listening to the same wistful odes from your minstrel.

All the while under the careful eye of your kepus.

Life’s tragedies and horrors had never crossed your path, never entered your realm, therefore could never harm you. Your childhood as idyllic as you could imagine, save for a loving father. That void was dutifully replaced by your uncle Daemon, whose unrivalled care and indomitable attention ensured you never wanted for anything more, evermore understanding that your father’s duty to his throne far exceeded the loving relationship expected toward a daughter and that his brother could offer the closest companionship to his. Yours was an unbreakable bond that defied all secrets, surpassed all proprietary expectations and often branched into full conversation in High Valyrian to remain undetected by outside ears.

Meanwhile, your elder brothers Aegon and Aemond sought to salve the absence of a protective male role model closer to your own age, ensuring they trained in the sword to their own degrees should their little sister ever need rescue. No matter how often you reassured them, they refused to share your belief that no danger could come to you, for danger did not seek you. With the guard of three silver-haired Princes, you thought yourself invincible.

As you matured together, however, your brothers discovered distractions. For Aegon, it was women, cups and the sordid activities beyond the castle walls. For Aemond, it was Vhagar, studies and bitterness. You could not begrudge them the right to grow, to extend their roots beyond your all-too-comfortable sibling unit, as you too had become distracted by literature, music and the pursuit of a quiet life with precious few responsibilities. Somehow your tranquil existence had eluded the conversation of marriage, recognising your unfettered spirit aspiring to greater things than a life secluded within the Red Keep.

But not in the eyes of your kepus.

~~She was sunshine, I was midnight rain~~

“What troubles you, little starling?” Called a familiar voice from behind your favourite reading spot in the Godswood. You squinted against the midday sun to find your beloved uncle Daemon watching over you, an uneasy frown skewing his lips. “Why are you so often here alone?”

“Good day, dear kepus,” you closed the tome in your lap, clasping your hands together. “My brothers are at the Dragonpit, where I fear a princess may never tread.”

“And you are content with reading in solitude?” Daemon stepped closer, treading carefully over the gnarled roots of the tree upon which you sat. “Would you not prefer company?”

“I am sure others would not wish to read the tales I choose to indulge,” you clutched your book closer to your chest, hurriedly attempting to conceal its cover from him. Sighing thoughtfully, you smiled up at your uncle. “I am resigned to the life of a quiet Princess Regent, neither an heir nor a common-born. No responsibility, no authority, yet still no freedom.”

Daemon approached and perched on a root beside you, chuckling softly under his breath. “I suppose that notion is all too familiar to us both, Princess.”

“Then how did you assuage it, uncle?” You looked over to him, noticing a distinct pain behind the considerate smile on his countenance. “How did you counsel yourself to contentment with such an existence?”

“What in the Seven Heavens makes you believe that I have?” Daemon snorted, gaze dropping into his lap. “How do you counsel yourself to contentment with a life of loneliness, niece? You are but seven-and-ten, do you not wish to take a husband? Make an honest man out of some egotistical Lannister?”

You smiled warmly. “I do not wish to marry, uncle. No aspect of marriage or childbearing holds any attraction for me, for I could never find the love of which I read in literature.”

“That I find hard to believe, Princess. If you wish to marry for love, your parents would be only too happy to oblige.” His hand reached to clasp over your thigh reassuringly. “One day, you will find the Prince you deserve.”

A comfortable silence fell between you, enough to hear the rising volume of the wind in the Godswood. You glanced up in tandem to see the once-turquoise sky fading to an ominous grey.

“A storm is coming, Princess,” Daemon clicked his tongue, slapping his knees demonstrably and rising to his feet. With a kindly hand proffered in the space between you, he beamed down at you. “May I accompany my little ray of sunshine to shelter?”

As you reached to accept, Daemon finally caught a glimpse of your book’s cover and smiled to himself. “The Tales of Persephone and Hades, I see.” His voice lowered to a mutter so indistinct you could not hear him. “How apt, vēzos.” Sun.

You paced slowly toward the library together, Daemon always one step behind, his hands clasped studiously behind his back as you meandered around hallway after indiscriminate hallway, wordlessly travelling as if no conversation could be found. You would never notice the manner in which Daemon consumed the image of you before him, a woman grown so distinctly from the small babe he had observed in your youth, born with gleaming silver hair which now tumbled to the length of your hips. Your regal green gown swayed as you moved and swept the hallway before his intrepid footsteps, Daemon swallowed harshly as he imagined the frame concealed by your bodice and boned skirt.

~~She wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain~~

Upon your arrival at the dimly-lit library hall, you turned to nod a farewell to your escort.

“Thank you, uncle,” you smiled before quickly turning on your heels in search of another book to lose yourself in. As you paced, you heard your footsteps echoing with another, realising that Daemon had followed you. After a few more steps, you ground to a sudden halt, giggling gently as he bumped into you and nearly lost his footing. You grasped his arms behind you and steadied him, the gentle clearing of his throat behind you making you chuckle harder. “Kepus, are you following me?”

His hands searched for your waist and skimmed the contour of your hips, pulling you flush to his chest so close his warm breaths fanned your hair. Your laughter silenced with the sudden realisation that this was no child’s play.

“I would follow you to the ends of the earth, little starling,” he whispered into the shell of your ear, venturing a hand to brush your tumbling silver curls from your neck so he could blaze a trail of butterfly kisses unimpeded. Your breath hitched in your throat, eyes fluttering closed as his gentle touch melted your resistance immediately.

“Kepus… what do you mean?” You asked timidly, almost afraid of the response.

His next searing kiss into the base of your neck lingered a while, his lips wrapping you up in anticipation and longing for a touch you had never before desired, but now that you had it, you craved it more than the air you breathed. Your head threw back into the blissful sensation, earning a low groan from Daemon that vibrated softly against your skin.

“You have always been the midday sun to my midnight rain, haven’t you, little one?” Daemon whispered. “You were born into this world when I returned from the Stepstones, a ray of light when my world was shrouded in darkness. Whenever my life has succumbed to the pitch black of night, you were always there to illuminate the way.”

Your hands rested on his as they traversed deep into the valley of your pelvis, hovering over the position of your most sensitive place concealed only by the structure of your dress.

“Uncle, please…,” you muttered in a form of weak protest that came out as an encouragement, unable to scramble through your mind for a reason why you should reject his advances. He had lost Laena, you were unwed, there were no marital connections to stop you. Your beloved uncle, who more or less raised you in the absence of your father, had been the deepest love in your heart all your life. Whether or not that had been a romantic love or not, you could not deny the way your body responded to his touch as if you had yearned for this moment ever since you first read of love. Holding him this close felt as natural as breathing.

“Hush now, little starling,” he cooed as his lips blazed a trail up to your earlobe and nibbled gently, all while pressing his palm into your skirt so his fingers could make contact with your mound beneath, making featherlight strokes into the fabric and causing your hips to buck into his hand. “Tepagon aōla naejot nyke.” Give yourself to me.

The darkness enveloped the daylight as you nodded in agreement, and in the blink of an eye Daemon gripped your hips, spun you to face him and captured your lips with his. At first tentative, he pulled back to scan your face for a response, only to growl hungrily as he watched your gaze journey to his lips eagerly awaiting their next contact, consuming your mouth with his before you could mutter a protest. Your hands instinctively reached to lace around his neck, drawing him closer and dipping into the kiss as if your hunger could not be sated, craving as much contact as physically possible.

Without you knowing, Daemon had steered your clinch across the room toward the nearest desk, lifting you to rest on the wood and swiftly hitching your skirt up around your hips in the process. His lips refused to part from yours, nudging his nose into your cheek and humming contentedly against your mouth. With one hand cupping your cheek, the other ghosted a featherlight trail from your knee to your inner thigh, blazing toward your smallclothes between your legs, grazing the sodden fabric as it clung to your core.

“You already want the darkness, don’t you niece?” He pressed, groaning greedily and venturing both hands to rip the weak cotton apart at the seams. With his last obstacle laid to waste and clinging to your hips, his fingers grazed your pulsing folds and collected the waiting droplets of your anticipation. “I have waited so many years to feel your heat, ñuha vēzos.” My sun.

Your vision swirled like a hurricane, conflicting emotions and thoughts blurring the image of the silver-haired prince gazing down at you through lust-blown pupils as he watched his fingers daring to breach your folds before you gave him permission.

“Kepus, not yet,” you pleaded against your own better judgement, a whimper escaping him as you planted both palms on his chest to keep him an arm’s distance away. “We are not yet married, I don’t think this is right.”

Daemon chuckled to himself before grasping both your wrists in one hand and raising them above your head, his free hand pressing your chest to lay you flat on the desk. Pinning your wrists above you and leaning down to hover over you, two fingers rediscovered your folds and slipped inside in one smooth motion.

“Then don’t think, sweetling,” he whispered as he buried his fingers inside you to the knuckle, fingertips eagerly curling into your spongy walls and stroking slowly. Your hips tentatively reared into his touch, a palpable trepidation leaving you worrying about your maidenhead, the pain of coupling that literature failed to address yet had always remained on the lips of every birthing woman within the Keep. Daemon noticed your hesitation and thrust his fingers deeper, eliciting a strangled gasp from the depths of your lungs and revelling in your back arching into his motions. “It’s alright starling, the darkness has you now.”

You swallowed harshly, eyes roving to the ceiling as the full sensation in your cunt overwhelmed you. With a disapproving click of his tongue, Daemon tightened his grip on your wrists and slammed them against the hard wood, making you hiss gently.

“Don’t take your eyes off me, niece,” he commanded until your gaze met his again, ramping up the pace of his pumps as you buckled beneath him. “You need not be ashamed of letting go. Let your kepus take control.”

Daemon’s thumb journeyed to settle on your clit, tracing lazy circles around your bundle of nerves while his fingers drove fervently in a race to reach the furthest points inside you, the wet slaps of his motions echoing through the library. Watching closely as your back arched against his restraint, your eyes fluttering to close as if your climax were nearing, the edge of your pleasure cliff was cruelly snatched from you as his fingers withdrew from your soaking folds with a lewd pop. In a determined hurry and a rustle of fabric, Daemon fumbled with his breeches and freed himself before quickly replacing his digits with a smooth thrust of his length into your cunt. Your determined lubrication enabled his swift entry to sheath himself inside you, but not without discomfort as you winced to handle the stretch of your walls around his girth.

“Easy now, vēzos,” he soothed, pressing a palm into the valley of your hips to feel his tip grazing your innermost core and sending a shallow shiver throughout your body. “Soon the pain will become comfortable, I promise.”

You swallowed deeply, nodding in compliance and dutifully wrapping your legs around his waist to allow him easier access within you. Daemon grunted, making his next thrust deep and punishing to the point you yelped out, filling the library with the echoes of your cries.

“That’s it, little one,” he hummed contentedly, working your cunt with his bucking hips like a man possessed, his free hand gripping your hip to impale you further. He leaned further over you to hover his lips over yours, his towering stature blocking out the dim candlelight of the room and enveloping you in pitch black night. “Give yourself to me, let the darkness take you.”

With every merciless thrust deep into your cunt, your helpless mewls grew louder which only encouraged Daemon’s animalistic plunges within you. Gathering what little strength you could muster, you weakly pulled your wrists against his restraint.

“Please… need to… touch you,” you stuttered, fingers clamouring into mid-air for contact. Daemon’s sadistic grin faded as he acquiesced, your hands firing to curl around his neck and pulled him in for a searing kiss so you could silence your screams into his mouth, his relentless force pummelling you into the hard wood of the desk beneath which was sure to leave flayed grazes on your spine the next day.

“My little sunshine, you feel like heaven around me,” he cooed against your lips, curling his thrusts to bottom out inside you so hard your blurred vision of him would glitter with stars. “Does this not feel like heaven to you?”

You whimpered an unintelligible response, unable to compose any coherent thought as his cock filled you to the hilt. The searing heat swelling inside you brought the vision of your cliff edge back into sharp focus, begging you to drive your hips up to meet his in a desperate race for your release. Daemon recognised your eagerness and met it with a newfound brutal pace, pounding into you so fast the lewd skin slapping that echoed through the chamber became staccato and relentless.

“When you are carrying my child, your father will wed you to me,” he leaned to whisper in your ear, anchoring himself by wrapping his hand around your throat, his fingers and thumb pressing eagerly into each side to stem your blood flow rushing to your head, leaving you breathless and helpless. “And I will return inside your pretty little cunt every single night for the rest of our lives.”

His thrusts became jagged, betraying his own approach to the precipice.

“You see, every night the darkness consumes the light.”

With one last devastating thrust, your high flooded through you like a tidal wave and crashed against Daemon’s incoming climax, flooding your walls with his release and blending with your own, his gaze travelling to watch the space between you as his glistening cock hammered into your depths and stuttered as he poured inside you. The once-deafening lewd sounds of your coupling now replaced with ragged breaths, gasps for air and Daemon’s contented grunts as he rode out his orgasm within you, you threw your head back against the wood in sheer realisation of your own weakness.

Not yet married, but most likely to carry your kepus’ child before long.

You threw your hands to your belly, clutching at the flatness between your pelvis. Pulling out from you and admiring the soaking mess between your folds, Daemon’s hands rested upon yours as you looked up to find him gazing lovingly at the same space which terrified you to the core.

“Byka vēzos,” he hummed. Little sun. “If you do not conceive this time, we have the rest of our lives together to ensure you will.”

~~She looked like a bride, I was making my own name~~

Some flowers bloom only when the sun sets.

You blossomed for Daemon in a way he could never have anticipated. His bravery in the battlefield garnered him the courage to risk it all for a chance to make you his wife, but he found so very little resistance in your kind reception that his claim over you simply fell into his lap. The thrill of the chase evaded him, as you caved so effortlessly to his will.

Each time he requested your presence in his chambers, you parted your thighs and accepted him willingly. Yet each time you requested his presence in turn, he refused, ensuring he kept you wanting more and more, the suspense crafting a new height of pleasure each time you were called to his chambers, bent over his bed and pounded within an inch of consciousness.

Daemon Targaryen had laid his claim to your body and mind, yet all that remained was his possession of your soul.

Unbeknownst to you, Daemon had long pleaded with your father to wed you to him. Informally at first, often disguised as a joke to strengthen the Targaryen bloodline by betrothing two dragons to each other to fight for all eternity. But since the night in the library, his requests increased in volume and tenacity, resulting in a physical confrontation in the throne room between dragon brothers. Dismissing Daemon’s demand as nothing more than a vicious clamour for the Iron Throne, your father sought to banish his brother from King’s Landing to Dragonstone, where he would live out his days out of earshot of the Red Keep, where he would never again hear the pathetic whimpers of a man desperate to bed his youngest daughter for power.

To you, that night came as any other, as Daemon’s maid requested your presence in his chambers at the dead of night and you dutifully obliged, pacing the Keep corridors in eager anticipation of meeting him once more. As you crept through his door, a heavy fabric flew towards you and you grabbed it in mid-air. A dark cloak.

“Kepus, what—?”

“We need to leave. Tonight.” Daemon’s voice was short, snappy, panicked as his face came into view in the darkness. His brows knitted together, his lips skewed with fear.

“Wh… why? Did my father refuse our betrothal?”

“Of course he fucking did,” Daemon snapped through gritted teeth, grabbing the cloak still laying in your shaking hands and throwing it over your shoulders for you. “We need to leave for Dragonstone now, there’s a boat waiting for us in the harbour.”

“I don’t… why do we… what happened?” You were frozen to the spot, confusion washing over you in waves. Daemon’s hands balled into fists as he adjusted the hood over your head.

“Will you stop asking so many fucking questions? Just get down to the harbour, I’ll meet you there soon.”

“Kepus… I’m scared,” you stuttered, hands held out in front of you as if still holding the heavy cloak. “Will I ever see my parents again?”

Daemon smoothed the fabric over your shoulders and tucked the hood over your eyes. Pressing a quick dismissive kiss to the fabric laying over your forehead, he clasped your face and pulled it upwards.

“Whatever happens, little starling, we are each other’s family from this moment on.”

Suddenly, the tense silence between you shattered to the sound of deafening bangs on the door to his chambers. Immediately hunching his back defensively, he ushered you across the chamber toward a dark passage where a rogue guard waited to take you onward. “Place your trust in Ser Baleon, I will meet you at the shore.”

The crashes against the wooden portal intensified as you fled, the distinct swoop of metal from the chamber behind you suggesting Daemon had armed himself against the ambush. Searing hot tears blazed volcanic streams down your cheeks as you fought to focus on your steps down the dark spiral staircase to safety, wondering if you would ever see Daemon alive again.

~~Chasing that fame, she stayed the same~~

“Your father is a cunt,” Daemon hissed, storming into your Dragonstone chambers and crossing the room in three great strides to tower over you.

“Surely not, kepus,” you attempted to calm his temper with a reassuring palm pressed to his chest. “What has he said to irk you so?”

“He’s sent a raven to enquire after you,” he seethed, his jaw clenched tightly as if it might snap at any moment. “He claims that I kidnapped you in the dead of night and will not return you to your birthright in the Red Keep.”

“But I came to Dragonstone of my own free—,” you were cut off by Daemon’s hand firing to grasp your throat, your fingers racing to claw at his grip and prize yourself free.

“Well why don’t you speak those precious words to your beloved father instead?” He half-growled, sneering down at you as if you were his prey. “He seems to be the one that needs persuading of your own free will, Princess.”

“If you… if you let me, I will,” you stuttered against his restrictive clutch, weakly attempting an escape to breathe properly.

“You would love that, wouldn’t you?” He snarled, using one hand to spin you by your waist while retaining his grip on your throat, pressing his chest flush to your back and steering you to the bed. “You could run back to the Red Keep and your books and your perfect little boring life.”

“Kepus, please,” you protested weakly, reaching a hand ahead of you to cushion your fall as he dropped you face-first into the sheets. “Please, don’t…”

“Please don’t what, starling?” He chuckled, bunching your skirt over your behind and battling with his own breeches. “Don’t fight for my family, or don’t take my wife whenever I so wish?”

You scrunched your eyes closed, willing to block out whatever was coming next. This was not the careful husband you knew, this was not the devoted uncle who raised you in place of your father, this was certainly not the man who you fell in love with under a stormcloud amongst ancient tomes. This midnight rain will pass, no matter how much love it unravels in the eye of the storm.

Delivering a swift nudge to your thighs, your legs were parted and Daemon crawled between them, grasping your hips and drawing you up to impale yourself on his hardened cock. With no preparation, you yelped at the intrusion and hissed gently.

“The pain will soon become comfortable,” he declared as he ruthlessly bottomed out inside you. “I promise.”

Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to burst their banks as the agony coursed through you in waves, slowly replaced by bolts of pleasure as his tip grazed your innermost walls.

“Please… take me easily, my Prince,” you wheezed out between merciless thrusts stealing your breath from your lungs. “I am… I am with…”

“You would do well not to give orders when I can ensure you lose consciousness in a moment, little one,” Daemon hissed, pounding into you with an inhuman pace, sending your eyes roving to the ceiling as his nails dug crescent dips into the flesh of your hips. “You want to stay awake while I fill you up, don’t you? Maybe this time you will bear me a child.”

“Daemon, please be gentle…,” you fought to finish your declaration while balling your fists into the sheets, your elbows caving beneath you. “I am with child.”

With your last syllable, Daemon’s thrusts ceased instantly, leaving you whimpering at the immediate loss of friction. He stilled completely, not so much as a laboured breath escaping him behind you, his length still nestled halfway inside you.

“My Prince, I… I’m sorry,” you reassured, venturing a hand back towards him as if willing him to hold it. “I should have spoken sooner.”

You breathed into the deafening silence, wondering if he did not wish you to deliver the news in such a manner. Suddenly, a cool splash of water hit your scalding spine. A tear. Daemon’s tear.

“I have failed you, starling,” he sighed, completely shattering his blind rage into a self-deprecating reflection. Allowing his length to slip out from your folds, he released your hips and collapsed onto the sheets beside you. “After all this time, I could have destroyed our child with my recklessness.”

“You have never failed me, kepus, our babe is safe inside me,” you purred, reaching to brush another tear from his cheek. “If he’s anything like his father, he can withstand any amount of force.”

Daemon’s saddened gaze turned to you, still on all fours beside him. He ventured a hand to brush your cheek.

“I do not deserve you, vēzos jehikagon.” Sunshine.

In the blink of an eye, you threw a leg over his own to capture him between your thighs. Hovering your waiting folds over his length, still hardened and bobbing between your bodies as you awaited a signal to proceed.

“Let me please you, my King,” you pleaded, one hand venturing between your legs to stroke his cock and line his tip with your aching entrance.

Daemon’s gaze met yours, his wounded pride hooding his eyelids in contrast with your wide-eyed anticipation. You smiled at your silver-haired captor so warmly, he could not resist your brilliant sunshine blinding him to walk into the light. Gently bucking his hips to meet you in the middle, you lowered onto his length and shared a gratuitous moan as he filled you slowly and completely.

“You are truly carrying my babe?” His hands journeyed to your belly, swelling softly beneath his palms as you rocked gently into him.

“As true as the sun shines above us, ñuha jorrāelagon.” My love. “The Maester says it is early, so I should rest as much as possible.”

Daemon stilled, concerned. “Then you should cease at once, allow me to…”

“And deprive me of this moment with my beloved? Never,” you asserted, sinking down carefully and bucking your hips to graze his tip against your walls, dropping so far you could swear you felt his cock deep in your stomach. “Besides, I may not be able to ride my dragon for much longer so I will take any chance I can get.”

“When you grow too weary to ride your dragon,” Daemon’s fingers splayed out across your belly as you bobbed above him, his eyes journeying to the ceiling momentarily as the sensation of your walls tightening around him stole his breath. “Rest assured that your dragon will take good care of you, little one.”

The mere implication of his words sent you careering to your precipice, clenching tightly around his cock as your walls rippled and pulsed with the approach of your orgasm. Noticing the sensitivity of your walls to his every motion inside you, jolting and surging around him to bring his rhythmic rutting up into you to a jagged pattern, signalling the arrival of his own climax.

“Let go for me,” he commanded through a whisper, keeping his palms pressed to your abdomen and revelling in the strangled gasps you could no longer hold back, grinding your hips to ride through your high as he deftly painted your walls in staccato thrusts.

Filling the chamber with your mixed groans and deep pants as you slowed your motions above him, you couldn’t bear to move from atop Daemon for fear of losing the moment you shared. Instead, he gripped your hips and turned you onto the sheets, keeping his length buried within you as you lay beside each other.

“Gevie muña,” Daemon muttered under his breath as he reached to brush your silver hair from your face.

Beautiful mother.

~~All of me changed like midnight~~

It had taken you the best part of half an hour to muster the strength enough to heave yourself from the birthing chair. Propping yourself up on the fruit table stacked high with pomegranates, you gazed out from your Dragonstone chamber to the harbour beyond. The day was bright, gleaming, the waters mirroring the same blissful turquoise sky beneath which you used to read your books, drift off into fantastical realms and dismiss your own captivity as the Princess Regent with no responsibility and no freedom.

The Maester said your third birth would be easier than the initial two, but so far he had been proven catastrophically wrong. When sickness could not claim you, tiredness and weakness took hold. Days blended into each other, weeks dragged for months, your belly swelled overnight as you lay helpless in the birthing chair simply waiting for an end to the monotony of childbirth. After delivering Daemon two sons, you assumed your duty as a birthing mother had been fulfilled, yet another child swelled no sooner than the second had left your womb.

A pair of hands snaked around your hips to cradle your blossoming belly, fingers spread out over the span of the bump to feel every sensation beneath your skin. A chin rested in the crook of your neck and peppered lazy, haphazard kisses over your ear.

“Good morning, ñuha byka vēzos,” he cooed softly, his breaths warming your neck. My little sun. “You are not usually out of the chair so early, are you not well? Is our Prince keeping you from rest, little starling?”

You sighed as you dipped your head against his, placing your hands atop his as they surveyed your belly.

“I am quite well, husband,” you comforted him, tracing idle patterns over his hands, still as delicate as the day he first held you as a babe. “I’m always well when I am with you.”

Gazing out beyond the Dragonstone harbour, you could make out the faint outlines of the Red Keep from the safety of Daemon’s arms. Word from court suggested your father’s physical strength was at its last. Your mother sent a parchment requesting your presence but your husband intercepted it before it reached your hand, dismissing your concerns and reassuring that a raven would arrive at once if the King was indeed on his deathbed.

King’s Landing lay just beyond the dock, a symbol of the life you gave away for the sake of love. When you once believed you could never attain the love as told in literature, you failed to notice you had already fallen into such an affair. Persephone and Hades, the blinding sunshine tempted into the all-consuming darkness.

Such a pretty little songbird.

In such a pretty little cage.

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen angst #daemon targaryen yn #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen imagines #daemon x reader #matt smith #matt smith fanfiction #matt smith imagines #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfiction #hotd smut #hotd angst #daemon fanfiction #daemon imagines #house of the dragon matt smith

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sweetercalypso · 6 months

Text

Pearl Rosary || Din Djarin

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: Priest of Mandalore!Din Djarin listens to your sins during confession

Notes: part three in my week of horror series! minors dni; public(ish) sex, finger sucking, deepthroating, cock worship, facial, reader is a Mandalorian who takes her helmet off, so much religious imagery

In the Cathedral of Mandalore, there’s only just enough light to make out the back of the wooden pew in front of you. The doors and windows are adorned with an ornate red glass that wash the chapel in a somber crimson gloom, a reminder that only those dedicated to their creedal faith are permitted inside.

The nave is silent beyond the occasional clink of beskar and the solemn bells ringing overhead in hourly intervals. You’d counted three resounding chimes, then four, then five, as the day stretches on outside the walls of the chapel.

In your tightly coiled spiral of pensive rumination, time seems to stand still.

Your eyes snap up as another Mandalorian passes by your aisle in their departure from the confessional. The small curtained booth at the front of the church has a strangely foreboding presence, and you’d been working up the courage to step inside all day.

The front doors close, and you’re left with your guilt once again.

If you admit to the thoughts weighing on your conscience, maybe you’ll have the chance to repent. Or, if the pit of dread in your stomach is any prediction, you’ll be cast out for your inclination towards a life of sin.

Before you can work up the nerve to decide whether to gamble your fate, the head of the church, Din Djarin, steps out of the other side of the confessional, rolling his shoulders to relieve the stiff ache of being confined in his narrow compartment.

His armor has grown dull with age and wear, buffed with a flat luster that speaks of its obstinate strength.

Others have said that his appearance makes him seem ordinary, but you’ve always thought that his mannerisms were what set him apart. His imposing stance, his commanding way of speaking, the way his head tilts when he’s deep in thought – he’s beautiful if you know where to look.

When he turns in your direction, your breath catches in your throat.

“You’ve been here for quite a while.” His voice has an unexpected warmth that licks up your spine. “Are you here to speak with me?”

Your eyes flicker warily to the confession booth. “I’m not sure.”

He seems to pause for a moment before making his mind up to join you, floorboards groaning under his heavy boots as he draws near. You shift uncomfortably on the hard bench, squirming under the spotlight of his attention. He stops at the end of your row and rests a hand behind you on the back of the pew.

“We can speak out here if you’d prefer.”

You’re surprised that he’d recognized the source of your unease, though you’re not sure if he realizes why the embrace of the confessional is so distinctly unnerving.

The people of Mandalore are not known for their empathy, especially not those held in high regard by the church. Din Djarin is a fiercely orthodox man, and you doubt he understands the position you’re in.

“I’ve seen you during services,” he comments. “Always so attentive.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at the thought of being recognized in the mass of devoted warriors that frequent his sermons. Is your shame so pronounced that you stand out in a crowd? “I didn’t know you paid attention to the assembly.”

He hums in response. “I care deeply for everyone in my congregation, especially those who are in danger of losing their faith. Tell me, what’s been troubling you?”

You hesitate before answering, skirting around the truth as much as you can, as much as he’ll let you.

“I’ve had… impure thoughts, father.”

“Oh?” His voice is rich with interest. “Indulge me, cyar'ika. What tempts you?”

His smooth, full baritone makes it impossible to deny his entreaty, like he’s wrenching your secrets from the far reaches of your mind.

“I’ve thought about… taking my helmet off in the witness of non-believers. I’ve thought about what you look like underneath your armor.” You pause for breath. “I’ve thought about your image at improper times.”

His chest falls with a heady sigh, though the sound is lost beyond the rasp of his modulator. “I see. And how do you think you should pay for your transgressions?”

The presence of other Mandalorians can be heard from outside the chapel – an admonition of what you have to lose if you are turned away. The air in the room shifts. Your hands flex at your sides.

“I’ll do anything.” You push forward onto the edge of your seat, ardently pleading for your chance at repentance. “Tell me how to make things right.”

He shifts in place, mulling over his options for what feels like an eternity. You swallow the urge to scream as silence rings in your ears.

Finally, he speaks.

“Maybe you’re too curious,” he decides. “Too concerned with things you cannot have.”

Your fingers dig into your palms, awaiting the final blow of his judgement.

“I think you need to experience firsthand the gravity of your desire.”

He leans down like he’s sharing something that no one else can hear, a sentiment too clandestine to be born in a house of worship.

“This is a sacred place,” he explains. “If you’re going to commit an act of sin, let it be here.”

You’re taken aback by the implication of his words. You’d been expecting a show of indignation, maybe even outrage for your betrayal of the Way, but it seems like he’s encouraging your lapse in faith. Surely, you’ve misunderstood.

The hand caressing your shoulder tells you that you haven’t.

“Revealing yourself to anyone a sin, and the public would have you exiled for removing your helmet. But here, in the presence of a higher being, I will make an exception.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before his hands are on the underside of your helmet, tipping your head back with the force of his grip. The fabric of his gloves glides against your jaw as he lifts your beskar veil and exposes you under the chapel’s dim, ruddy glow.

You squint at the sudden shift in the light, surprised to discover what your dark-tinted visor had been hiding from you. The red halo cast around him is much more intense without the obstruction of your helmet. His outlined form burns with a fiery sanctitude that makes you shudder.

Your attention is drawn to his hands ghosting over your face, cradling your cheeks with a curious touch. The pad of his thumb presses against your mouth, tugging at the plush of your bottom lip. “Is this what you wanted?”

You swallow thickly and chance a look up at him, finding your face in the reflection of his visage. Your lips part in fascination at the sight of your own eyes staring back at you.

“That’s it, open up for me.”

His thumb presses further into your mouth and hooks behind your teeth. The taste of the holy chrism melts across your senses, balsam and olive oil and something you can’t name. When your tongue swipes out to meet his digit, he hums low in his chest and pulls his other hand back to curl around his belt.

“Does this make you feel good? Corrupting a man of faith?”

You whimper around his thumb, eyes blown wide with lust. The metal buckle at his waist glints in the low light, seemingly pleading for your touch. You don’t know how far he’ll take this lesson, but you’re hoping it ends in a mutual exchange of sin.

As if persuaded by your thoughts alone, he works open his belt and the fastenings of his pants, revealing a patch of tawny skin that contrasts the muted tones of his beskar.

“You need more than this, though. Don’t you?”

With a low hiss, he pulls his hardening cock from its confines, and your mouth waters at the sight. He’s eager, alive, twitching in his tight grip. The tip of his cock weeps as he bucks into his hand.

The heat simmering in your belly has grown into a blazing flame. When he swaps his thumb for the head of his cock, your thighs clench with the urgent need to consume him in every way.

His warm, salty taste is so human, so unlike the righteous figure he’s made out to be. You can almost picture what the rest of him looks like by the glimpse of what he’s offered you.

Your lips wrap coyly around his length, an earnest appeal for his approval.

The tint of his visor hides his eyes, but you gaze up at him anyway in hopes that he meets you halfway, that he commits the image of your debauched affair to memory.

“C’mon, this is your chance to atone.”

You trace the vein on the underside of his cock, tongue laving over him in search of a reaction, in search of redemption through your greedy act of worship. His hips stutter in response and the head of his cock twitches against the roof of your mouth.

He mumbles something akin to prayer and focuses his efforts, sliding further into your mouth until your nose presses against his pelvis and his cock settles in the back of your throat. You gag at the foreign pressure and try to pull away, but he settles a hand on the nape of your neck to hold you in place.

“That’s it, take it all.”

His thrusts are slow, lazy, careful not to overwhelm you. When he moves, it’s a gentle drag over your tongue, not the heedless intrusion you’d expected from him. He bucks his hips like he wants to know you’re enjoying it too.

“Fuck,” he grunts, chin dropped to his chest. “Your filthy mouth was made for this.”

You wish you could see him without the beskar disguising his reaction. The heave of his chest, the flex of his hands, the jump of his cock when you tongue the right spot – his body is so expressive, you have no doubt that his face would be too.

A few more juts of his hips and he’s pulling out of your mouth and forming a fist around his length, flushed skin glistening with your spit.

He chokes out a broken noise and angles his hips towards you, painting the evidence of your transgressions over your cheeks and your lips.

You touch your fingers to your face when he pulls away, eyeing his handiwork with a sound of approval. This part of yourself, it’s his now. Desecrated for the use of someone more sacred than yourself.

The corners of your mouth stretch into a grin. This is exactly the forgiveness you were looking for.

#sweetercalypso’s week of horror #Din Djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin one shot #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian fic #din x reader #Star Wars #star wars x reader #star wars smut #priest!din #priest!din Djarin

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earthtooz · 1 year

Note

I NEED ITOSHI RIN BF HEADCANONS, I BEG YOU 😭

·˚ ༘ ITOSHI RIN BF HEADCANONS !

# warnings: gn!reader, fluff and a little hurt/comfort, mentions to arguments, somewhat suggestive but no nsfw, swearing, idk how many words this is but quite a bit LOL, unedited

# a/n: LUCKY FOR BOTH OF US THAT I JUST SO HAPPENED TO WANT ITOSHI RIN BF HEADCANONS TOO. ENJOY MY FRIEND.

no one knows how you two got into a relationship and to be honest, you don't really know either. like how did you bag itoshi mf rin 😨 the most unlikeable bitch anyone will ever meet in their life... (lovingly)

bachira asked you if you were okay the first time you met and rin immediately lunged at him. like, please stop babe, you're just proving meguru's point !

how you met and all is a story for another time <3 because holy fucking shit is it a long one.

but the point is, although rin takes a while to open up, he is an amazing boyfriend, despite what everyone believes :,)

claims that he needs an independent partner bc he needs his space from time to time and you were completely understanding, even agreeing that some privacy here and there is nice.

except as it turns out, rin is the most co-dependent partner there is 💀 it's no longer 'i' bc it is now 'we'! slay!

he literally needs you to go to the grocery store with him and expects you hold his hand the entire time too- literally.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"you know how to buy your own green tea, why do i need to come with you?" you ask when rin pops his head into your study room where you were reading your book. "please?"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you accompany him (almost) every time. if you're out he even waits for you to get home just so you can go with him like boy wtf...

well his love language is quality time saur.

expresses his love through gifts and acts of service as well. all of the gifts he buys for you are genuinely so well thought-out, like you almost tear up at all of them. one of them was a teddy bear that said 'you're better than mediocre.' and you almost cried 🗣🗣 okay but fr, he got you an anniversary gift of all his favourite moments with you, adding spotify bar codes to the pictures. there were photos from before u even dated like rin 😭😭😭😭 he is so babygirl pls take care of him.

on that note, i headcanon that rin has decent music taste. he listens to rock and alt, even anime soundtracks 🤣 but bc he's fluent in english, i bet he listens to arctic monkeys and the neighbourhood on REPEAT 🔁

wait yeah lover of music, it just makes sense for him to have a collection of headphones in his room. he likes to make you playlists too :( rinnie :( for me???

(rin also has a love language of offering you the first bite of food. you're sharing ice cream? here, have the first spoon. wanna try some of rin's lunch? he's already offering it. the smoothie he's having sounds good? he's already pushing it towards you.)

ALSO ☝️ BC THIS FUCKER LOVES HORROR, IT'S SOMETIMES TO A POINT THAT IT GETS YOU KINDA SCARED FOR YOUR LIFE... HOW IS HE SO IMMUNE TO ALL THE BLOOD... AND VIOLENCE...

he's SICK for this. you never let him pick the movies whenever you want to watch something.

also like it's a good enough reason to not get on his bad side. mans probably has 100 ways to k*ll shidou and get away with it.

anyways, rin would probably be hesitant to let you meet his family (read: sae). he's not ashamed of you, he's ashamed of sae.

so when his family demands to meet you, rin finally caves, agreeing to a dinner back home. only to find out he had nothing to worry about. his mother and father love you, saying how you were so beautiful the whole dinner, and how lucky rin was to have you. they even brought up the topic of marriage and you and rin kinda just sat there like 😐😁 smile and wave... smile and wave...

internally though, rin was over the moon knowing that you're accepted by his family. he loves his mum and dad, and although his relationship with sae is rocky with no smooth waves in sight, his opinion is... 'appreciated'.

best part was that his mother then turned to sae and went 'when are you going to get a partner as well?' and rin SENT HIM THE MOST SHIT-EATING GRIN EVER LMFAOOOOOOO

they got into a fight whilst cleaning the dishes that night.

rin then takes u home and pampers u, still high from the happiness that seeing u with his family brought 😇

WAIT ALSO - YOU TWO DEFINITELY SHOWED UP TO THE DINNER WITH MATCHING FITS >:o

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN'S WARDROBE LIKE DAMN SHAWTY... LET ME HIT... so he'll 100% shop for you too.

in fact, he's the best boyfie to take shopping, he'll be like 'no that's not your colour, but the fit is nice' or be like 'you might need a different size. this one isn't right' - you trust his judgment way more than your friends.

when you are out with your friends shopping, you'll send rin photos for his opinions and he never misses 💯 drops whatever he's doing to respond bc he's gotta make sure his pretty lover has the best wardrobe!!

rin loves paying for your shopping sprees too. no matter how much you try to wrestle him for who pays, he will always win. you make it even though by paying for your meals that day (the difference in how much money is spent on clothes and food will never compare, but it makes you feel a little less guilty so rin indulges you).

also attentive af. knows your tastes in almost everything, memorised your little habits and how you like certain things done. very dedicated bf once you realise just how much he loves doing things for you.

i just had this thought:

you know how couples post on tiktok all the time? well, you thought it would be nice if you could participate in one trend with rin.

you just thought it'd be a small post to share with your friends but instead, you seemed to forget to turn on the 'only friends can view option', it blew the FUCK up - like ofc it would, that's itoshi mf rin... but the comments were all like 'why are you with him', or 'dump him... you're too hot for him...', or 'you can do sooo much better than him'.

look, no matter how sensible rin is, he's not immune to drama and this bitch will not settle for when people tell him he doesn't deserve you like did YOU GO THROUGH TWO YEARS OF PINING??? I DON'T THINK SO. SIT THE FUCK DOWN.

so he's on your account, picks the comment 'i could treat you better than him', films himself giving the commenter the middle finger before you pull him in by the collar to give him a big ol kiss, cutting the video at the exact time that you both stumble out of frame.

look, it's not the most optimal way to fight back against the haters 🙄 but he doesn't need to prove nothing, not like anyone else gets you all to themselves.

oh this man has a banger social media presence, on his main AND on his private accounts.

he prefers posting on the priv bc there he can freely show u off and be more authentic.

itoshirinpriv I love when Y/n wears the things I buy them

─ megurusundercover when will u buy me things rinnie </3

╰┈➤ itoshirinpriv Choke and die

╰┈➤ megurusundercover kinky ;)

─ isagi11 Hi @y/n !

╰┈➤ y/n HI YOICHI !!!!

LOVES A SUPPORTIVE S/O, EVEN IF HE DOESN'T LET IT SHOW!!! WEAR HIS JERSEY AT A MATCH AND CHEER FOR HIM AND YOU HAVE HIS HEART !!! RECORD HIS MATCHES FOR HIM AND WATCH THEM WITH HIM AND HE'LL LOVE YOU FOREVER !!!!! he doesn't ask for much, just a little appreciation back :<

also don't try to compete against rin in anything unless you have guaranteed victory bc this mf is competitive AF.

will spare you on some occasions but more often than not, will give 100% into everything.

you use this to your advantage like 'hey babe, wanna see who can clean more of the house in one hour?' and HE TAKES IT SERIOUSLY EVERY TIME. to be fair, so do you because like you want a clean house, but rin is SO speedy when there's a challenge involved.

easy defeat every time but you can't be mad.

hc that rin can't cook for shit. so you'll have to be there with him or just ban him from the kitchen straight up.

you taught him how to make microwave popcorn and that's about the only thing he is permitted to make.

even his diet-regulated smoothies are all made by you because holy fuck he somehow always messes up the recipe despite it being really clear and concise.

also you steer clear from him when he's working out because he just looks TOO GOOD working out that i makes you feel a little funny and pathetic 😇

if you are someone who does enjoy exercise, rin would love to take this chance to spend some more time together. you could be doing a pilates workout and rin is in the corner lifting weights, glancing over to you ever so often, sending him winks when you catch him.

loves going on hikes with you, no matter the difficulty, how steep or flat, he just really likes being active and if you join him, he'll be SO happy.

also u know how he loves yoga and meditation? if hiit and sweat-inducing workouts aren't for you, he likes stretching with you and teaching you breathing exercises that help throughout the day.

100/10 MASSEUSE BTW !!!! 👍👍👍👍

ofc, relationships aren't always perfect and especially when dealing with rin, someone who has quite a fair bit of trauma from being abandoned and left behind, it only worsens the tension.

believes you're going to leave him every time </3 like no :( just bc you're mad at him doesn't mean you've stopped loving him.

communication is so important. rin has a tendency to catastrophize a lot so please, put your pride aside and talk to him! reassure him! spend some time with him! that's how post-arguments usually go.

then you'll talk it out calmly, expressing both of your perspectives, apologising for breaking boundaries and trying to adapt accordingly.

this routine is a delicate one and it took months of putting aside your immaturity in order to grow together. especially rin who is so full of pride, but when he realised that his stubbornness wasn't winning him anything, he shattered his hardened perception of self and let you in.

"rin?" you whisper, poking your head into your shared bedroom delicately, afraid to upset the beast sleeping in there even more.

"what," he snaps, sitting on his side of bed in a hunched over position. he hugs his legs close to his body and the sight breaks your heart a little.

"i'm watching 'the shining', you can join me if you'd like to."

he grumbles something inaudible before you close the door quietly, hoping he'd cave because you chose this movie just so he'd come around. it's his favourite after all.

setting out a bowl of popcorn and some beverages of choice, you just manage to get the movie up when rin emerges from the bedroom, all gloomy and moody. he plops down on the opposite side of the couch, chin on his hand.

he's pretending like you don't exist which is fine by you, you know he'll cave eventually. so, you slide a cup of water and the bowl of popcorn to him and settle in, pressing 'play'.

around 15 minutes in or so, you're too engrossed in the movie to hear rin's quiet shuffling, and how he's now crossed the distance to sit next to you. his hand comes up to your shoulder to get your attention and when he has it, rin's quick to manoeuvre you so that you were now lying down on the couch.

he then plops down, wrapping his arms around you and resting his head on your chest.

"i'm sorry," whispers the striker. such simple words with such heavy meaning, especially coming from him.

you know he wants to say more, but you know better than he can't get it out, so, you begin threading your fingers through his hair, just how he likes it. rin softens completely against you.

"it's okay," you reassure.

"you're too good for me."

the next morning there's a bouquet of flowers and dessert from your favourite bakery on the kitchen counter.

rin wakes up at a reasonable hour. he likes to start off his days between 8 to 9 am, with 9-10 hours of sleep.

your sleep cycle has been synced with his because he hates sleeping without you beside him.

unless you have a good reason to push back sleep, he will not stand for it. stop depriving yourself of sleep and give your body the rest it deserves!!!!!

has a set night routine with you.

also i'm sorry but rin loves making out + neck and hand kisses are his favourite to give to you + he loves receiving temple and lip kisses.

goes to parties and clubs but very reluctantly. he doesn't like to drink, especially during soccer season, so there's not a lot of joy he can find in going out, except when he gets to eye you up and down all night and have fun with you AYEEEE 🕺😩

'you can wear whatever u want, i can fight' bf.

one thing you learn abt this man overtime is that he truly does not care how you dress. even tho it seems like he's judging you, he loves everything you wear and will admire you appreciatively 24/7.

#hope u enjoyed !#quite self indulgent but i can't help it T^T #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin fluff #blue lock fluff #itoshi rin x you #rin x you #rin itoshi x you #blue lock rin #itoshi x reader #blue lock itoshi rin #rin fluff #itoshi rin drabble

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maidragoste · 1 year

Text

I wish that too

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader (Daughter of Rhaenyra) x Aegon II Targaryen

Masterlist Serie

Part 3 Part 5

sorry for the delay in updating. Thank you very much for all the support, for the votes, the reblogs and the comments remember that my inbox is open so you can ask me questions or tell me your thoughts on this series. you can also ask me to write something else

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

"What are you reading?" you asked breaking the silence.

You were in your brother's chambers, Aegon. There wasn't a day when you didn't visit him, you always made time to see him or sometimes you forced him to take a walk with you and the children in the gardens, of course, you did this only when the king or your husband was not with you.

"About Daenys the Dreamer"

"Is it interesting?" you inquired hoping your brother will talk to you more. You remembered when he was younger and rambled excitedly about the stories your parents told him. But now you hardly listened to him speak, after your mother's death Aegon had become a quiet child. If you could you would take away all the pain. You were sad that your little brother had to see the horrors of war, he was too young to have to see his family die.

"You can't marry him," said the boy calling your attention "We can escape in your dragon" he kept talking surprisingly to you even more because it wasn't a secret that since he saw Sunfyre burning your mother he didn't like dragons anymore. He tensed up whenever he heard or saw a dragon. He even refused to spend time with the dragon egg you gave him. So for him to propose escaping with your dragon he really didn't want you to marry the king.

"Egg, I have to do it" you tried to caress his face but he pulled away from him and glared at you.

"He killed our mother" he slammed the book shut "You should hate him. You should want him dead. You should fight him but you don't do anything. You just sit next to him at dinner and walk around the gardens. Did you do the same at war while my father, mother, and Jace fought?" As he spoke his breathing became more and more labored. It seemed that at any moment he would burst into tears and all you wanted to do was take him in your arms but you knew he would reject you.

You wanted to tell Aegon that you wish you had fought with your family. Tell him how you thought more than once about getting on your dragon and going to fight together with Jace. How you dreamed of seeing him again, of hugging him and seeing his smile. In your dreams, your brother always welcomed you with open arms. But that never happened, you never left the castle, you never went looking for it. There was no point in telling Egg that because it wouldn't change anything. Your family is still dead and you are still the traitor, the idiot, the coward who did nothing during the war.

"If Jace was here he would be avenging mother" you heard him mutter.

"It doesn't matter because Jace is dead"

"I wish he was here and you were dead"

Your little brother's words didn't hurt you. If you could take the place of Jace, Luke, Joffrey, or Viserys you would without hesitation. Your brothers did not deserve that tragic end. You got goosebumps remembering how each one died. They had a lot ahead of them. Jace would have been a good king, Luke sooner or later would have learned to sail a ship without getting seasick and would have become a worthy heir to the Driftmark, Joffrey and Viserys were just children.

"I wish that too" the words came out of your mouth without even thinking about it.

Aegon looked at you with wide eyes. He wasn't serious. He loved you. He had only gotten carried away by his anger, he wanted to see your reaction, he was tired of seeing you so calm as if the death of the whole family had not affected you. But he never thought you would tell him that. He never thought you were keeping your pain to yourself.

"I wasn't serious," he said with a broken voice "I don't want you to die. I swear", I hugged you tightly feeling terrible for having made you believe otherwise "I love you"

"Shhh, Egg," you said lovingly as you stroked his hair "Okay, I know you're just mad"

"No, it's not okay" Aegon denied "I'm so sorry. I don't want you to die. I don't want to be alone" it broke your heart to hear the desperation in his voice.

"Listen to me" you took his face in your hands "You're not alone, Egg. I won't let anyone take me away from you or hurt you" you promised with total seriousness "For that I need to be queen. I'm getting married to keep the peace but also to keep you safe, do you understand?" he nodded "I love you" you kissed his forehead and hugged him tightly.

•••••

You woke up screaming feeling your skin burning, but I knew it wasn't true that it was just a product of your nightmare… You weren't burning and your mother hadn't ordered Syrax to kill you. It had only been a dream but you could still hear his voice calling you a traitor.

"Hey, hey. It's okay, you're safe" Aemond said taking you into his arms and you clung to him. You're sure you were holding his arm too tightly but he didn't seem bothered by that "Come on, breathe with me, love" your husband's soft voice comforted you as did his arms. "Inhale" he took a deep breath and waited patiently to see you do the same, he saw how your chest inflated "Exhale" you two let out their breath together. Repeated the same exercise again until the prince remembered the presence of the guard "All right, Ser Fell. You may withdraw."

"Good night, prince, princess," the guard said before leaving.

You had not realized that the guard had entered. You shouldn't have been surprised to see him. Ever since your engagement to Aegon was announced, you've always had a member of the royal guard behind you. Today it was Ser Willis Fell's turn to guard your door. Clearly hearing your screams had entered your room in search of an intruder. You felt ashamed. Soon you would be queen and here you were screaming from a bad dream like you were a little girl again. You were hoping you hadn't woken the whole castle.

You also didn't realize that Baelon and Aemon were awake. Your screams woke up the children. They were crying now, clearly scared and upset that you interrupted their sleep. You feel guilty.

"I'm sorry" you let go of Aemond, you noticed your fingernail marks on his arm "Could you hold Aemon while I held Baelon?" you asked and were about to get out of bed when the prince took your face in his hands.

"You have nothing to apologize for or to feel ashamed of" he declared and hoped you could see that he was speaking with total sincerity "I am your husband, I am here to support you. Never be afraid to show your fears to me. I am here" I kiss your forehead.

"Thank you" in another moment you would have smiled when hearing his words but now you felt discouraged. Still those words meant a lot to you, they gave you security and comfort, so you kissed him hoping to convey your feelings. "Now let's calm down those beasts before they wake up everyone"

They both got out of bed and went to the twins' crib. You couldn't help but snort as you watched Aemon quickly seem to calm down just by being in his father's arms. Just as you were about to lovingly complain about how unfair it was that you're going to carry your baby for 9 months and then be a daddy's boy, Aegon, Jaehaera, who was clinging to her father's hand, and Egg just walked into the room. What surprised you the most was seeing your younger brother behind the king.

"Everyone is fine?" asked the king looking at you and Aemond carefully in search of any injury or something out of place. You noticed how Egg also did the same "We were worried"

"We heard your screams" Jaehaera added sadly.

"I'm sorry" you apologized as you rocked Baelon trying to calm him down "I didn't mean to wake you up or scare you. I just had a bad dream"

"Oh, mom used to sleep with me when I had nightmares. That made me feel better" said the little girl letting go of her father's hand to get closer to you and Baelon "We can sleep with you so you feel better" you decided to sit in one of the armchairs so she can see her cousin better.

"I think this is a good idea. So you're not alone ”said your brother speaking for the first time since he had entered the room. Aemond raised an eyebrow at your brother, feeling a little offended that he thought his company of him and wasn't comfortable enough for you. But then he felt like an idiot when he saw the boy's eyes and realized that Egg was actually afraid, afraid that something would happen to you if he lost sight of you.

You looked at Aemond to see if he had any complaints but your husband just nodded seeing no problem, if being around the kids made you feel better then he wouldn't deny you.

"Fine, we can have a sleepover" it wasn't enough for you to say more words for the king to order the guard to bring another mattress.

Then Aemond as he watched the servants arranging the mattresses on the floor and putting on the sheets realized that you weren't looking at him because of the children. You looked at him to see if he was okay with Aegon, the king, sleeping with you. Your bed was big enough for the two of you and the two children but not big enough for one more adult.

He was furious and was about to kick his brother out of him until he saw how relaxed you were as he took Baelon. Baelon finally seemed to calm down and he was afraid that if he took Baelon out of the king's arms his son would become hysterical again. Besides if he made a scene he would ruin everyone's mood. You were smiling as you listened to Jaehaera and Egg argue over which tale is better to tell Baelon. He decided to ignore his anger and join in the conversation, sitting next to you. You leaned your head on his shoulder and smiled at him. A part of him was afraid of your closeness to Aegon but he knew you still loved him. I could see it in your eyes.

The next day when Alicent was looking for her children and her granddaughter, they informed her that they were in your rooms. She went there and entered quietly. She found two mattresses on the floor and all the last Targaryens sleeping together. Aemond was sleeping on your left, hugging you, you were in the center with your brother sleeping on top of you, Aegon was on your right, his face was hidden in your neck, and one of his arms was tightly hugging Jaehaera, who was sleeping on top of him, and with the other, was hugging you, but also Aemond. They were all well glued. Alicent smiles at the scene. It was bittersweet. A part of her was hopeful, she believed that her family and the kingdom would find peace but the other felt resentment at the thought of her sweet Helaena, she had never seen Aegon so happy and comfortable with her and Jaehaera. Why couldn't it have been like this with Helena? What was so special about you that Aegon would settle down and start acting like a decent man?

She sighed and felt like someone was looking at her. She turned her head slightly to find Aemon sitting in her crib in silence. She walked over and took him in her arms. She checked to see that Baelon was still sleeping before heading to the door.

"Do you feel left out? It's okay, we can have breakfast together" Alicent said as she left the room.

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luxaryllis · 8 months

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hi!! if you're accepting requests rn could you pls write just pure angst of azul with a younger sibling who he was super close to before, but when their parents got divorced they grew distant bc the sibling went to live with their dad instead of with him and his mom. then a few years later sibling ends up attending nrc and azul recognizes them and is excited to talk to them again only to discover that they're not the same as before.

rlly loved your scared younger sibling fics. they gave me chest pains bc of how damn sad they were. keep up the good work :)

Brother Knows Best

Note: OMG!! What is this!? I, Lux, FINALLY finishing something and posting it?! Has a miracle truly happened?!

Anyway, I'll just write the sibling of this one as a year younger than Azul, and the sibling was also be an octopus merfolk. I'm going to mention the reader having interests in some stuff, so please don't get offended if it doesn't apply to you. You can always just replace the traits I put as a trait of yours!

And imma just use Ashengrotto as the family name, cuz idk if Ashengrotto was the last name of Azul's bio father, or step-father, or the maiden name of his mother.

Warning/s: Parents divorcing, Split custody, Angst, Spoilers to Azul's backstory and past, Spoilers to Azul's Ceremonial Robes vignettes, Reader is mentioned to have somewhat similar features to Azul (specific features aren't specified), Tell me if I missed anything

Full post under the cut!

-----

"Big brother! Why are you crying?" A slightly smaller mer-octopus swam closer with a concerned expression.

Azul, who was hiding in an octopus pot, looked up to his sweet and innocent little sibling. The 7-year-old boy's eyes soften, and Azul knew that it was only a matter of time before his baby sibling, [Name], would go through all the bullying and teasing as well.

But Azul didn't want that. He wanted [Name]'s cute smile to last forever. He wanted [Name] to not have to see and experience the horrors of simply being themself. He wanted to protect [Name] from everything and everyone who dared hurt them.

Azul's heart squeezed in his chest as he realizes that he can't. He can't protect [Name]. Azul couldn't even protect himself! He truly was... a weak, dumb, slow little octopus...

Tormented by his thoughts, Azul continued sobbing, hiding further into the octopus pot, hiding his chubby face from his little sibling.

"Don't look at me!!" Azul cries out, accidentally spitting out ink from his tentacles, staining the waters around them. The mess caused Azul to cry even more, the ugly black liquids reminding him of what the other kids told him.

[Name] frowns softly, they didn't know why their big brother was upset. The younger mer-octopus moves closer to the octo-pot, trying to coax their older brother to come out.

"Zul-ie.. what's wrong? I don't like seeing you sad..."

Upon receiving no response, the younger child purses their lips in a pout.

"Come onnn...! Mom and dad made dinner! They made fried chicken! Your favorite!!"

---

"Big brother!! Look, look! Wanna hear this song I learned on the piano?!"

Piano keys played a gorgeous melody under [Name]'s fingers, and Azul watched with wide eyes full of wonder and pride. Azul felt a small sense of envy in him, but he couldn't find it in himself to acknowledge the jealousy, because Azul was too proud of his younger sibling to do that.

And yet...

As [Name] learned more and more, Azul couldn't help but feel... left behind.

As though [Name] doesn't need him anymore.

But... but that isn't true right? [Name] needs Azul... right...?

As days and years pass by, nagging feelings of envy and worthlessness bubble up in Azul as he watches his sibling shine.

'I should be proud of them,' he thinks to himself as his mind wanders while he was studying.

---

'Mom and dad don't love each other anymore...'

Those were the thoughts in the two siblings' heads while they listened to their parents argue for what felt like the umpteenth time. And today, it seemed as though everyone in the house had finally had enough of the screams and shouts.

Around a month or so later, the Ashengrotto family were in court, for a divorce trial. It was a somewhat long process, but the judge's words hit the two children like a truck.

"Mrs. Ashengrotto is to be given custody over Azul Ashengrotto. Whilst Mr. Ashengrotto is to be given custody over [Name] Ashengrotto."

When the Ashengrotto family split up, Azul and [Name] were desperately trying to stay together. It went to the point that their parents had to pull the crying siblings apart because [Name] and their father had to leave.

"Big brother!!! NO!!"

"[Name]!!! Don't leave me please!!"

---

"DON'T LEAVE ME!!"

Azul wakes up with a start, sitting up from the bed with wide eyes and heavy breathing. His hair was frazzled in a bedhead, and he quickly looks around.

The Octavinelle Dorm Leader recognizes his dorm room, and breathes a sigh. Not one of relief, but one of exhaustion. Azul reaches to his bedside table and takes his glasses, putting them on as he checks the clock. 5 am.

Next to the clock, Azul sees the small picture he placed. A family picture of him, his mother, his father, and his younger sibling. It was taken before his parents had divorced. When they were all happy...

Azul stares at his younger sibling in the picture, yearning to see them again. He reaches out a bit, but stops himself and shakes his head. 'Now is not the time', he thinks to himself. He shakily stands up and starts getting ready for the welcoming ceremony of the new first years of NRC.

Azul leaves the room and passes by Jade and Floyd's shared room. The house-warden could hear Floyd's complaining through the door and he sighs, knocking on the door and speaking.

"Floyd, would you stop complaining? Jade and I have to get ready for the Welcoming Ceremony, and you and the others have to start preparing for the welcome party for our new first years."

Almost immediately, Floyd replies with a slight whiney tone. "Says the person who wasn't wrung out like a rag for some lotion! I can barely walk!!" Azul could almost hear the pout in Floyd's voice and sighs in exasperation, listening to Jade trying to calm his brother down.

Deciding to leave the twin eels alone, Azul starts to walk away and head to the Lounge to make sure the preparations are going smoothly. As he walked, his mind can't help but wander to thoughts like if he and his own younger sibling would have a similar dynamic to Jade and Floyd. Hm, or would their dynamic be more like Idia's and Ortho's? Likely not, perhaps.

These thoughts weighed in Azul's mind, and he feels himself shaking his head, trying to rid himself of those thoughts. He hasn't seen his younger sibling for a long time; but Azul certainly hopes that [Name] didn't have such a drastic change like he did.

For some reason, Azul couldn't bear the thought of his previously happy-go-lucky and outgoing [Name] to be anything else other than such a happy mer-octopus. It was wishful thinking, but what kind of older brother would he be if he didn't wish only the best for his younger sibling?

---

When the time came for the Welcoming Ceremony to begin, the Housewardens (exceot for Malleus Draconia, who likely didn't receive the invitation, Azul thinks) were all lined in a circle surrounding the mirror, waiting for students to be sorted into their own dorms.

As each student was being sorted to their dorms, Azul takes the time to look at each student that seemed to catch his attention. None seemed very relevant thus far, maybe a few people he could exploit here and there.

"Next student!"

A student dressed in the NRC Ceremonial Robes stepped out of the crowd of the unsorted first-years. Their hood was on and casting a shadow down their face as they walked towards the mirror.

"State thy name." The mirror said when the student stepped up.

Suddenly, the student spoke a name that ran a shiver down Azul's spine. A name that Azul never thought he would hear no matter how much he wished to hear.

"[Name] Ashengrotto."

Jade raised an eyebrow and turned to Azul curiously, and some other students who recognized the last name also snuck some glances to the Octavinelle Dormleader. Azul could vaguely hear Idia's voice through the floating tablet, saying things like, 'Plot twist?!', but he paid no heed to it.

Azul's eyes were wide, and his mouth was lightly agape in surprise. His younger sibling... studying in NRC?!?

Questions ran through Azul's head in that moment. How is his younger sibling doing? Do they still like to play the piano? Or perhaps they still continued collecting those sea shells? Did [Name] still want to be a singer when they grew up? Do they still enjoy chasing their tentacles like a dog liked chasing its tail? Do they still have that same smile they always did; the one that brightened any room they were in and made their eyes glimmer like the stars land-folk liked to gaze at?

The Dark Mirror spoke again, "The shape of they soul is..."

Azul was beside himself with worry and anticipation. What dorm would his younger sibling be sorted into?

'Octavinelle, Octavinelle, Octavinelle', Azul chanted in his head, hoping for the Dark Mirror to sort [Name] in the dorm he was in.

"... Octavinelle!"

It took almost everything in Azul not to let out a sigh of relief, but he was celebrating in his mind. Suddenly remembering that he was the Dorm Leader of Octavinelle, he stepped up and made himself known to his beloved younger sibling.

Azul mustered up an amicable smile (and those who knew him were rather surprised at how genuine Azul's smile looked), and spoke. "Welcome to Octavinelle, right this way please."

[Name], not having realized who the person underneathe the hood was, nodded and walked to the crowd of Octavinelle students, waiting for the Welcoming Ceremony to be over.

---

After a rather tiring Welcoming Ceremony, with an entire fire getting started by a racoon-cat-monster named Grim, all the students (save for that one student who couldn't get sorted to a dorm) were allowed to leave and go back to their respective dorms.

The Octavinelle first-years were granted a delicious meal and celebration, and were all briefed on their duties in the Mostro Lounge. The entire time, Azul kept sneaking glances at [Name], which wasn't really left unnoticed by the twins or by [Name] themself.

Azul eventually mustered up the courage to approach his younger sibling and struck up a conversation.

"[Name], it's very nice to see you..! I'm Azul, remember? Your older brother?" Azul's voice was one of slight anxiety, did [Name] eveb remember him? It has been a while since they last even heard from each other..

[Name] turns to look at Azul and nods a bit, smiling a little. "Ah, right. It's so nice to see you again, Zulie."

Being referred to his favorite childhood nickname made Azul smile softly, but he couldn't shake off the surprise at seeing the change of demeanor in [Name]. Back when they were younger, [Name] was much more outgoing and enthusiastic compared to this [Name], who seemed to want to curl up in a ball when someone else tried making conversation with them.

Not even their smile fully reached their eyes anymore. Just what had happened to his beloved younger sibling in the time he was gone?

Internally hoping that his younger sibling hadn't changed too much, Azul tried to continue the conversation. "Ah, do you.. still play the piano?"

[Name] shook their head and smiled a little sheepishly in reply. "Oh, no I don't anymore. Atleast, not as often as before. I still play it occasionally, but I don't exactly find it as fun now."

"What about collecting sea shells? Surely, you still find that enjoyable?"

"Dad and I lived in a more colder part of the ocean, and there weren't a lot of sea shells to collect. So, no, not really."

"Ahh, I see... what do you like doing nowadays, then, [Name]?"

"Oh, well..." [Name] then proceeds to tell their older brother of their interests; though most (if not all) the things the younger Ashengrotto listed were things Azul weren't very interested in.

Regardless, Azul nods in understanding, trying not to mind how much his sibling had changed.

The next few weeks after that, Azul had found it hard to approach [Name]. Why? Well, maybe it was because of the fact that his younger sibling had grown rather attached to the Ramshackle prefect and a certain trouble-making trio (Ace, Deuce, and Grim).

Azul had enough of it, seeing his younger sibling get roped into trouble from their group of friends. When [Name] had came back to the dorm with the Heartslabyul's dorm leader's collar on them, Azul had to pull his younger sibling aside to talk.

"[Name], may I ask exactly why you have Riddle's collar on you? What did your friends bring you into this time?" Azul asked [Name] as they spoke in Azul's office. Azul was looking at his beloved younger sibling with furrowed brows and a scrutinizing expression.

[Name] replied, "It's a.. long story, big brother. Yuu, Ace, Deuce, Grim, and I were at Heartslabyul's Unbirthday Party. Dorm Leader Rosehearts got mad at us and collared us and kicked us out of the party because a rule was broken.."

Azul sighs in disappointment and exasperation. He can't believe his younger sibling associated themself with such troublemakers.

"[Name], honestly, why do you even hang out with such people?! They're getting you into trouble!"

[Name] tries to defend themself, "They don't mean to! And I can't just stand by and watch as my friends suffer on their own!"

Azul starts to get a little frustrated. Can't they see, those group of 'friends' as [Name] calls them are terrible influences. It's only a matter of time before they start using [Name] for their own benefit, Azul is sure about that. After all, [Name] has always been rather straightforward in the way that they won't hesitate to help (such values were strange to see in a school like Night Raven College). And Azul knew what happened to people like that; they get exploited, wrung out like a rag, draining them out until there's nothing left to give.

If [Name]'s friends were anything like the other students of NRC (like how Azul would treat his 'clients'), it would be so, so much worse for [Name]. Oh, Azul could practically see it now; it'll start small, like helping out with homework or lending some money. Eventually, it'll be like his younger sibling got the life and kindness sucked out of them, leaving them burnt out like a poor, unfortunate soul!

And Azul can't and won't let his beloved younger sibling go through that. He won't let [Name] fall from grace so terribly like the people who've broken their end of the deal with him.

And that is what Azul tells [Name] (leaving out the parts that paint Azul as the scheming businessman he is, of course) in an effort and attempt to dissuade his sibling from staying friends with their troublemaking friends.

"Don't you see, my dear sibling? They're only using you and their troublemaking schemes would run your student record through the mud. They're getting you involved in so much drama and troubles, and as your older brother, I'd hate for you to be surrounded by such terrible influences," Azul says.

[Name] frowns a bit. Azul worded it as though they hadn't done anything wrong, which wasn't all that far from the truth, though. However, [Name] also knew that Azul was thinking that they were being dragged against their will to help out, which they weren't.

"Big brother... I'm helping out willingly, because I want to. Besides, they're my friends. Didn't the Sea Witch always help other people? We're Octavinelle students, we must always follow the Sea Witch's values."

[Name] replies. The facts about Octavinelle and the Sea Witch were things that the younger Ashengrotto used to try convincing Azul to let them go.

Azul clicks his tongue, his eyes narrowing as he pushes up his glasses that were starting to fall a bit. "Then perhaps you should try getting better, more behaved friends instead of the ones you have right now. What happened to the well-behaved [Name] I used to know?" Azul mutters under his breath, but [Name] could still hear Azul's words.

[Name] frowns at the last question. "What 'happened' is that life happened, Azul. Not everyone stays the same! I've changed!!"

Azul, however, has difficulty getting behind the thought, shaking his head in denial, "Then change back!! [Name], I want the old you! The one who'd listen and trust me without a second thought! The one who was dependent on me! The one who actually made me feel special!!"

That was the last straw for [Name]. They have grown tired of their older brother trying to keep them the same as they used to when they were a child. Can't Azul just let go of the past? "Well that [Name] is gone!! I'm independent now, Azul! I'm not a child! Stop treating me like one!"

[Name] shouts in a burst of anger, before their eyes widen, not having expected themself to actually blow up like that. Not necessarily regretting it, though, the young Ashengrotto quickly turns away and leaves Azul's office, ignoring their older brother's shouts for them to come back.

---

Azul breathes heavily as he falls to his knees, watching as his younger sibling walks away from him, closing the door behind them. The sight can't help but remind Azul of the time when he and [Name] were separated; just this time, [Name] was being pulled away by their 'friends' instead of their father.

Azul can't believe this!! Did [Name] really just walk away from him?! After everything Azul did in hopes of having his dearest sibling back?! How dare they!

How dare they change! How dare they change so much to the point Azul barely recognizes them! How dare they move on from the past so quickly, as if it didn't bother them! And how dare they even think of choosing their friends over him!

How dare they make him cry! How dare they say words that hurt far more than when those pesky merfolk would bully him!! How dare they leave him there, with tears falling down his eyes and with a heart aching for family!

How dare they, how dare they, how dare they!!

Azul takes a deep breath of resolution, his eyes narrowing behind the glint of his glasses. Never mind, then. He'll show them, he just knows it.

Azul calls the Leech twins over to the office, preparing to make a plan for the upcoming exam season, a list of specific names he wants them to target.

He'll show [Name]. He'll show them that he's right. That big brother knows best.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst platonic #twst sibling reader #twst angst #azul ashengrotto

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confused-wanderer · 5 months

Text

The batsiblings have their own code version of “Do you want to talk or find a solution”

or when the bat siblings have to force one another to talk about their feelings, vent out what they’ve been keeping inside or basically trying to help another one out, they always say “Penny for your thoughts?”

Which doesn’t mean the saying. It’s a reference to Alfred Pennyworth, the OG able to make everyone quiver before him with a single judgemental eyebrow raise. He’s the one who always sees through their bullshit, calls them out on their behaviour, serves as a comforting presence to simply blurt out everything on your mind that’s been bothering you.

It means they’ll listen, nobody can make them leave even if they tried and they’re not gonna relent until they get what they want. It’s an opportunity to get the other person to open up and share their own thoughts while also giving the other space and comfort.

Steph started it by asking Batman of all people when the man was brooding the whole day over an attempted kidnapping of Jason and Dick when the two were out. Thankfully, their Wayne persona had not forgotten their childhoods as Dick as a gymnast and Jason as a street-kid, so the two were able to escape without much concern brought to how two rich kids took down a gang of people whom the nurses were struggling to decide if they should put in hospice.

Bruce, the worrying father he always was had an annoying habit of being a recluse even more than he already was when he was really stressed. So Stephanie one day just sauntered over into the batcave, bypassed all the emergency codes, sat down wolfing down her breakfast while forcing Bruce to look at her by eating in the most atrocious way possible to keep his attention - a task not too difficult because the man ate cheeseburgers by using a knife and fork, was a raised by a butler and Steph was.. well Steph.

And once she has his attention and horror, she raises an eyebrow and asks

“Penny for your thoughts?”

It works, somehow and when it’s only when Steph and Bruce are having a heart to heart that several shadows currently in the vents vanish, and along the lines it becomes a part of their vocabulary too. First time Steph hears Jason say it, she accuses him of stealing her patent, to which Jason shrugs and says he doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Dick uses it too and always glances at Steph with a smile when he says it. Tim uses it in cases where he’s too tired to simply point out the flaws of his siblings selflessness or gameplans because he knows all of them are too stubborn to face it point-blank and this way ensured they actually took what he said into account, which meant he didn’t have to stalk them afterwards and hide in the shadows until the plan was completed successfully with minor (Tim’s definition of minor is no organ out of body) injuries. Damian simply chides her for not putting a patent on it.

So while Steph is happy that everyone’s actually using it to help one another, she is getting increasingly ready for justice when they keep gaslighting her and claiming they came up with it all by themselves.

#batman #dick grayson #jason todd #nightwing #red hood #tim drake #batfam #bruce wayne #damian wayne #headcanons #batfam fluff #stephanie brown #spoiler #red robin #damian al ghul #Alfred pennyworth

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talkbycolor · 5 months

Text

the nun and the soldier

A/N; I ACTUALLY DREAMED ABOUT THIS AND THOUGHT LOL WHAT A GOOD IDEA FOR AN OS

Pairing; "[REDACTED]" x AFAB!Reader

CW; cnc? for someone who doesnt know how to put limits the line is very blurry, you will guess / daddy kink but in a priestly way / def religion kink, breeding but im not sure if its just a kink, worship but im not sure who worships who the most / this is more like an au like 1940 battlefield where [REDACTED] is a soldier and MC a nun

The night was like a classic old horror movie scene.

And how not to be scared? Outside the cathedral it was raining heavily, the skies were roaring from the electrical storm and the only lighting was the holy candles, that place was a refuge for the homeless.

After all, many people needed comfort in times of war.

You had decided to stay until midnight, praying to your father to protect the soldiers in battle, that the families would stop going hungry, you held the wooden cross that hung from your chest so tightly, begging for the massacre to stop, the times They brought sadness to the entire nation and God had to save them.

A loud clap of thunder echoed outside the cathedral and the doors were opened, the cold of the night and the wind caused the flame of some candles to go out, so holding the cross tightly to your chest you turned to see who dared to break in. with such violence in the house of God.

"Who's there?" You asked as you walked towards the huge wooden gate.

A man in uniform walked in, soaked from the rain, he looked tired, hungry, hurt, he barely made eye contact with you you felt a chill run through your entire body, not just because of the weather.

"I need food" He was a soldier, you nodded immediately and helped him walk to take a seat on one of the benches while you went to the warehouse for something the man could eat, there was food stored that was going to be donated, or that's what the priest said.

You returned with canned food and some water for the stranger, who snatched your things to eat like a dying dog, water running down his chin and eating haphazardly as he breathed heavily.

"Sir, are you okay? Where is he coming from?" You didn't avoid being curious when asking those questions, although just one cold look from him was enough to make you close your mouth.

…

You only heard him chewing, the man seemed to have had a really bad time and it was no wonder that you could tell from miles away that he was a soldier, and since he came alone, there was a high probability that he was one of the few survivors in the trenches, but you are not going to assume too much.

"Father, please help this poor man to heal his wounds safely, to regain his strength, to protect his life on the battlefield and the lives of our nation -…"

"Stop talking shit" he interrupted you in a vulgar way, causing astonishment on your face, even disgust.

"That is no way to speak before the lord" You scolded him, the black-haired man only laughed hoarsely.

"Bring me clothes, I'm freezing in this" he demanded arrogantly, getting rid of his wet clothes, your kind soul heeded his words, because that's what you were, right? A sweet nun willing to help the needy, love your neighbor as your god ordered.

"Excuse me, I only found the priest's old clothes and I'm not sure they fit him, I hope they can help you" You said as you returned to the bench, he once again snatched the things from your hand.

Yes, he was a rude man.

The minutes passed, the candles continued to melt at the altar, you were praying in front of the golden statue of your lord while the soldier was resting on the benches, grunting at his wounds and trying to stay warm.

"Hey, nun, since you won't shut up come here, I think I know how you could keep that mouth busy" The man suggested with a cheeky smile, it was unheard of how he could say such things in the lord's house.

"Hey! That's enough of-…"

"It wasn't a question, come here or I'll come for you" his voice was sharp, and with no intention of continuing to listen to you, seeing how you froze in surprise he grumbled and took the trouble to walk towards you.

Right in front of the golden statue of your god, he subdued you to the ground and lifted your robe to reveal your underwear, that man was shameless because he simply buried his face between your asscheeks to inhale deeply.

"HEY! HEY" WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! STOP! YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" You begged him, confusion and disgust replaced with terror, but… he was a soldier, a man willing to sacrifice his life for his nation.

"Please, honey, aren't you supposed to be a helpful sweetheart? You promised to help me stay warm, and this is my last dinner before I die?" He murmured on your back, riding you without a word, his hands had already pulled down your underwear while you were busy in your thoughts.

"Oh my god, this can't be happening, I'm supposed to stay pure" You whimpered as you covered your face, too embarrassed by the situation but not trying to push the man away.

He was an angel sent by god to save the country, it would be so rude to reject any order he gave.

He ground his hips against yours in a messy manner, he hadn't even prepared you well when your pussy was already engulfing his cock.

"Wow, you're so tight, so it's true that nuns are virgins, right? I feel so lucky to be the one to take your chastity, dear." His voice was teasing in your ear as you squeezed your eyes shut to endure the sudden intrusion, you were Pretty sure you would bleed.

No one would pass by the cathedral at that time of night, much less in a storm, the clicking of both skins echoed in the enormous building, right in the eyes of your lord.

"P-please forgive me Father for I have sinned, forgive me so much" A hand grabbed your jaw to silence you.

"You better ask thanks to the Lord because you will soon have a son, I will take care of filling this pretty pussy of yours to the brim, okay, angel?" He mocked your prayers but the seriousness in his voice was immaculate, he really wanted to impregnate your womb with his seed.

Your legs were shaking as you tried to stay in the doggy position, the soldier was selfish, penetrating your wet cunt for the sole purpose of having his release and getting you pregnant.

"S-sir please slow down, I feel like you're going to break me" You begged, snot slipping out of your nose as well as tears at how disastrous the situation was, the problem wasn't that the man was using you, because he was part of the brave army that risked his life, it is logical that you want to help.

"... We shouldn't be doing this in the Father's house." Sob quietly, your body reacted so well to his touch and it was inevitable not to moan, causing echoes in the cathedral.

"No, no, angel, call me father, you don't want your lord to hear you acting like a slut in his holy home." His calloused hands squeezed your hips and he pulled you like a wolf would its prey towards its nest.

"My god, angel, you feel so good, I'm melting between your walls, I want to spill all my essence inside you, you're being so good for me, I promise you it will feel better" He whispered lovingly despite the furious thrusts. that you received. "Don't worry, this is what your god wants, right? Demigods are worshiped with flowers, real gods need blood." His tone felt so somber, his hand traveled to your crotch to caress, collecting said blood, your blood.

So if he died on the battlefield, he would at least have left his inheritance in the world and he wouldn't be completely forgotten, right? His greedy hands ran over every inch of your skin under your tunic, squeezing the flesh, he too seemed inexperienced too, moaning and letting out incoherencies as he ground his groin against you, saliva running down his jaw as he moaned like a dog, panting, his eyes rolling back, sharper sounds until you both trembled violently.

Just as he said, you were dripping, as soon as a mirror cascade came out of you and warm semen was present from your pussy, his member was already a little more flaccid as he observed such a work of art in front of him.

He didn't want to die, he wanted this stupid war to end so he could get this nun pregnant and raise a child together.

"It's okay, you'll be okay" he murmured one last time as he clung to you, taking you into his arms with a blank look, but his words weren't.

He promised that when all that was over he would return to you to take care of you and the baby, that was what he wanted most, a life without daily blood, peace.

It's a shame that the promise would never be fulfilled.

♡

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere visual novel #14dwy ren #14 days with you ren #14 days with you #14dwy redacted #redacted x reader #smut #breeding k1nk #religion kink #priest kink #damn its midnight again

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cozage · 5 months

Text

The Daughter's Return Part 3

Chapter 19: The Morning of War

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 1.3k

Marco woke you early to run one last routine checkup.

“Still a happy and healthy baby you’ve got in there,” he said, giving you a nervous look. “You’re almost at month five.”

“Bell pepper month,” you said quietly, your hand rubbing over your stomach subconsciously. “Still so tiny.”

“And not very resistant to heat,” Marco warned. “So please, today…don’t do anything stupid. It’s not just your life anymore.”

“I know,” you whispered, staring at your small baby bump. You hadn’t expected to get so attached to this little nuisance. But when you weighed the thought of losing Ace or this baby…there was no contest.

Marco hesitated, watching you. He knew you too well. Your behavior was too perfect. You were scheming.

“Please don’t-“

“Just promise to save him, Marco.” Tears flooded your eyes. “Please.”

He knew how much promises meant to you. He knew you were asking him to promise the impossible.

“I promise I’ll do the best I can,” he said. “Let’s get you up to Pops.”

You were almost there. Almost to Ace. You just had to behave for a little bit longer.

“You’ll stay beside me through this entire thing,” your father said, sitting in his captain's chair. “I’ll need your eyes to find weak points.”

“Of course,” you said, nodding in agreement. You stood tall and proud, as if that role would be the only position you’d have all day. Your good behavior had allowed you to roam freely around the ship today, but you knew the commanders were all under orders to stop you if you tried to run onto the battlefield. Plus your sea-prism shackles were still tightly fastened around your wrists.

When your father’s ship rose from the sea, you stood at the bow of the ship, your eyes desperately searching for him. You didn’t care about the layout of the battlefield, you could examine that later. Right now, you needed to find him.

He was so far away. And yet so close. You scrambled up and stood on the railing to get a better view, but it was him. He was alive. He was safe. For now.

“No,” Ace mouthed in horror. He hadn’t even found you yet; this horror was from the sacrifice of so many that was about to be made.

You almost jumped down and took off towards him. But you needed to bide your time. Marineford was full of traps and different sections. You needed to see their hand before you put yourself into play.

“Ace!” Your father yelled out. “Bear with me, son. We’ll be there soon.”

“Father!” Ace called out.

There was an eerie silence amongst the battlefield, everyone waiting for the other side to make a move.

“Do it,” you whispered, gripping a rope to hold yourself steady.

Your father listened, and sent a shattering tremor through the sea. Giant tidal waves rose up, getting ready to crash down on the bay of Marineford.

But they never came. The bay instantly froze over, Aokiji’s powers activating and solidifying the waters.

All hell broke loose after that, every Marine aiming for your father and you in some way. But your division commanders protected you, and you took the time to examine the battlefield.

Thousands of Marines stood at different portions of the battlefield. Men with swords and guns, strange patterns and sectionings. You had examined as much of Marineford as you could beforehand, but the Marines kept this place a highly guarded secret. Yet there was something that felt off about the battlefield.

The canons. They were angled wrong. The walls were too low for a first defense. It didn’t make any sense.

Then you saw it: the invisible line where the first defense stopped and the second defense started. There had to be a secret there; perhaps a wall segment that was activated by a trigger of some sort. If that wall were to be triggered while all of the pirates were in there, they would be fish in a barrel; easy targets for anyone who wanted to pick them off.

At least one wall segment you’d have to get through. Though you had no idea how tall, how thick, or how it was activated. Practically useless information, but you reported it to your father regardless.

And your father called Little Oars into action. He didn’t have to give any directions, Little Oars just went straight for the guarded platform.

“Wait, Pops-”

“I know,” he said. “I made the call. Not you.”

“But he’ll-!”

“Quiet,” he hissed. “My men are more capable than you think. So watch.”

Cannonfire rained down upon Little Oars, but you refused to look away. You had caused this death and destruction. And when Little Oars fell to the ground, you couldn’t help but blame yourself for his untimely demise.

Ace was screaming from the platform, begging everyone to run. But nobody would listen; of course they wouldn’t. Everyone loved the second division commander. So much they would be willing to die for him.

You could see him drop his head in defeat, broken by the amount of loss he was being forced to witness.

“You better live, Portgas D. Ace!” You screamed at him, putting all of your rage and hurt into your voice. “Because wherever you go, I go!”

His head perked up, and he scanned the battlefield, desperately searching for you.

“And when I get a hold of you-” you paused to take a breath, tears streaming down your face. “I’m going to kick your ass! Do you understand?!?”

His eyes widened as he found the source of your voice, and you could see the will to live return to his body, ever so slightly. That would be your goal for now. Keeping Ace alive and keeping the fight in him.

You felt a shiver up your spine and turned to the source of the dread. The admirals. You had shown yourself, and you knew they would take advantage of that.

And Akainu was staring straight at you, a triumphant smirk on his face. You glared back at him, until his eyes slid down to the cuffs around your hands. He raised an eyebrow curiously, and you could see him mutter something to his fellow Vice Admirals.

Aokiji didn’t scare you when he looked your way, but Kizaru’s humored glance made your stomach churn. He raised a finger and pointed it at you.

Suddenly Marco was on top of you, slamming you down onto the deck. An instant later, a beam of light shot past where your head had been.

“No!” Ace’s voice wailed from the platform. “Stop! Don’t do this for me! Stop!!”

You tried to get up to see him again, but Marco held you down.

“They saw your sea prism,” he hissed. “They know you’re vulnerable right now, so stay down.”

“I have to see him!” You thrashed under him, trying to break free. “I have to let him know I’m okay!”

“We have to let the Admirals think they hit you!” he yelled.

“They wouldn’t fall for such cheap tricks!”

“No, but their attention will turn elsewhere eventually!” he argued. “Just stay still for a second!”

You could hear the shouts and the battle raging on the ground below where your father’s ship was, and you wanted nothing more to fight alongside your family. You were half tempted to throw Marco off and start the race toward Ace without knowing anything else about the battlefield.

You heard a strange grinding sound that shook the ground, and you knew they were raising the hidden walls. The next phase of battle had begun.

You took a deep breath and tried to center yourself. You couldn’t be rash here. You had to save Ace at any cost. So, you stared up at the sky and relaxed, waiting for the right moment to get back up.

You listened to the sounds of the battlefield, trying to gauge where people were based on how loud the sounds of their weapons were. Strangely enough, some of the screaming seemed to be coming from above you.

And then you saw a giant ship falling from the sky.

Tag list! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog @dancingnewcat @dxestyi @flooofity @nyxthedragon01 @deadsnothere @h-rhodes1598 @morgyyyyyyy @trafalgardvivi @fiestynatureweeb @frogpogjoghurt @beepboopcowboy @ms-portgas @luvyallbabes @appalost @zuchkaa @saybeyonce @stray-npc @kitsunechan707 @theyluvmesblog @heartysworld @aira-needs-sleep @mothmomjay @ophelias-flowerss @aqualein @sehyojae @fanficwriter5 @forgotten-blues @amberash05 @firefistnoct @depressed-but-make-it-cute @stuckinthewrongworld@lizpoir

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas d. ace #cozage #✧˚ace✧˚

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justagirlwholikesadam · 1 year

Text

The Wolf Among Men

WARNING: RATED M, smut, death, mention of almost SA, act of violence, Themes of Religion, alcoholism

A/N: This will be my first GOT fanfic, I will being going along with the plot on the show with my own twist. I haven’t read the books so if I get something wrong or the plots are all over the place. Let it be. My story my rules. Please note comments are welcome. Enjoy! -L

Summary: Jon was told that his eldest sister, Y/n arrived to Castle Black. He was surprised when Y/n arrived with The Hound, Sandor Clegane.

Word Count: 11.9K

━ ◦ ❖ ◦━

Chapter Two

Months Later After The Fall

A cup of ale was given to Sandor by his father when he killed his first man. Sandor was only 12 and he gagged at the taste of it but his father told him to drink up since he was a man now. Sandor did what any 12 year old would do. He listened to his father and drank it all. He was 15 when he noticed the drinking was the only thing that helped him sleep. It helped him ease the nightmares he had of his older brother. As Gregor grew, the maids in their house disappeared along with a sister, he doesn't recall.

He has a rough time remembering anything before Gregor did what he did. It was like he had lost his memory after that but it came back in nightmares. Nightmares of his older brother shoving his face in the fire, horrible screams and sounds of a girl choking echoing in the hallways of their home. The news of his father’s death was said to be a “hunting accident”. When he was told of his father’s death it scared him because Gregor stood behind the maesters with a stone cold stare. No one mentioned the blood stain on Gregor’s trousers, no one even dared to say what they were thinking.

The drinking helped Sandor sleep and not care. He didn’t care what anyone thought of him anymore, not like when he was a kid. He didn’t mind the names or the snickering behind his back but he did have his moments. Sandor was just 16 when he was in a tavern minding his business and drinking by himself. No one dared to bother him but a drunken knight decided to bully him. He ignored the warning and walked towards Sandor shouting about his face. The knight was so drunk out of his mind that he didn't notice Sandor had a knife in his hand. The people in the tavern screamed while others stared in horror as Sandor rammed his knife at the knight's face repeatedly.

Sandor was on him, pinning him to the ground with his weight. He noticed the blood and chunks of brain had stained the white cloak the knight wore. Sandor scoffed at the sight of it. White cloak, a knight’s garment. The white signifies purity, virtue, and innocence. Knights are supposed to be good but all the knights around him were pieces of shit who used and abused their powers on the weak.

Being a knight was a dream for him when he was small. That dream broke and disappeared when Gregor was knighted by Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. Sandor didn't understand it.

“How can he be a knight?’ He asked himself. His brother is a monster, evil with legs and a face.

The awful truth that Sandor learned was knights protecting the good and the unfortunate were all fake. In the real world it’s the strongest who survives, the strong prey on the weak to live. You need to kill to survive.

Sandor stopped when the knight's head was completely smashed. He wiped his knife on the knight’s cloak and rose up from the ground. He ignored the people around and sat back down to finish his cup of ale.

He learned that day he was pretty good at killing and he liked it.

When he became Joffrey’s guard, he started drinking more. Since he was paid well, he drank wine. Wine made him feel good and yearn for a woman's touch. He would spend his nights at a whore house where some rejects from little finger’s establishment stayed. He drank until he couldn’t feel the tip of his fingers anymore. He drank until he couldn’t see the woman’s face and paid for her time. He kept it simple and quick. Bend them over then have them bring him a pitcher of wine when he finished.

He would wake up the next day with a slight headache and cotton mouth but he slept the entire night without any nightmares. His eyes would open and stare up at the multicolor fabrics hanging from the ceiling of the establishment.

Sandor never told you but when he first talked to you when you arrived at King's Landing that night he drank and he dreamt for the first time in a long time. He dreamt of you and your sweet smile that you had given him when you saw him. The dream became a nightmare when Gregor appeared behind you. Gregor was going to kill you and Sandor without a thought grabbed his sword.

He shot up in a sitting position when he sliced Gregor’s throat wide open in his dream. It was the first time in his life he had dreamt or even thought of killing Gregor. Sandor was now bigger and stronger. He had more experience in fighting now. He knew if he tried his hardest he might be able to win against his brother. The only thing that was lingering on his mind was, when will it be his chance to get his revenge on Gregor.

Sandor found out that he might be able to defeat his brother when he protected Loras Tyrell from him during the Hand's tournament. A rush of energy came at him when he saw Loras on the ground, his brother was about to strike the younger man.

He did hold his brother off and King Robert commanded them to stop. Sandor was the only one who obeyed and kneel, showing his loyalty to the King. Loras thanked him graciously as Sandor stood up. He raised Sandor’s arm up declaring him as the winner. He saw you quickly rise from your seat beside your father and clapped for him. You cheered his name loudly, not caring who was looking at you. The crowd followed and cheered for him as well, making him tense up since these were the same people who ridiculed and despised him are now cheering for him.

He made a decision as he walked up the steps to take his place behind Joffrey. He was going to kill his brother and get revenge.

Sandor started to gain consciousness and he thought he was back in the whorehouse. He will wake up like always and see the multicolor fabrics hanging above him. Sandor opened his eyes and stared up and saw a wooden ceiling. He let out a hiss when he tried to get up, he couldn't do it. He looked at his surroundings for a moment. He realized he was inside of a wooden shack. Everything came rushing back in his mind at once. He fell off a cliff and you were crying over him as you tried to pick him up.

Y/n. He thought to himself. He let out a grunted as he tried to get up again but it was no use.

“You’re up.” Sandor's eyes widened at the sound of a man’s voice. He tried to sit up on the bed to see who it was but fell back down on the makeshift bed. An older man with a beard walked inside the shack with a small bowl and a cup.

“Y/n?!” Sandor called out in a raspy voice.

He looked down at himself to see his clothes were gone. He wore a brown tunic shirt. He was bare from the waist down under thick blankets.

“Wow! Relax.” The man said putting the bowl and cup on the small table near the makeshift bed when he saw Sandor trying to get up again.

“Where is Y/n?!” Sandor shouted as the men sat down on the bed with his hands in front of him showing Sandor he meant no harm.

“She’s eating supper now. She’s done with work.” The men helped Sandor sit up as he spoke.

“What?” Sandor said not understanding as he leaned against the wall.

“You should eat too.” The men said, grabbing the bowl.

“She will be happy that you’re awake. Poor thing was starving and tired. Told her I’ll feed you today.” Sandor watched as the man took the spoon from the table, he was about to feed it to him like he was a baby.

“I can fucking do it.” Sandor said, grabbing the bowl from the man’s hand. The man laughed while Sandor gave him a glare.

“She said you were a mean one.” Sandor quietly moaned as he drank the warm soup straight from the bowl. He was starving.

“Who are you? What’s this place?” Sandor asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’m Ray. Some people call me brother Ray. We are here building a sept in the hills. We found Y/n in the mountains. Poor thing was crying and asked us for help. She offered to work in exchange.” Ray said with a smile as he looked around the small shack. Sandor frowned.

“What is she doing? What kind of work?” Sandor asked. Millions of thoughts were running inside of his head. Sandor didn’t believe Ray. He knew men like him. Sandor has always been good at reading people. Ray seemed to catch on what Sandor was implying and frowned.

Ray shook his head. “No! We really are building a sept. At first she would cook and clean. Clean clothes of the people here but some people thought it wasn’t fair because food and shelter was being given to you.”

“Y/n is something. She yelled at men twice her age and said she will work with them, cutting trees down just to shut their mouths.”

Ray rose up then made his way to the table filled with bowls and candles. Sandor watched as Ray started to mix some powder and made a paste. Sandor continued to finish his soup as Ray kept talking.

“Never seen a girl her size cut down wood before. I think she has been through a lot, she hasn’t said much about herself. Every time she’s chopping wood she said she imagines it’s the face of the people who hurt her.”

Sandor was lost for words. You haven’t left him. You kept your word and stood by him. You worked for him. Sandor felt his heart was about to burst as Ray kept talking about you.

“You gave us all a fright.” Ray said as he lifted the blanket up to Sandor’s knee. Sandor saw his leg was straightened out. He can see the nasty large scar across his knee. His knee bone was pushed back in and he was stitched up. The stitches looked red and angry but Sandor was happy about that. It means the wound is fresh and healing. Sandor held his breath for a moment when he tried to move his toes. Ray let out a chuckle when he moved them.

“Scared the fuck out of Y/n when you started to move them in your sleep.”

“You were in and out of death so many times. Never seen a woman pray so much like Y/n did by your bedside.” Ray said as he carefully spread some of the paste on Sandor’s knee. Sandor tried to keep a moan of relief when he felt the cool paste on his stitches.

Ray wrapped some cloth around his knee and covered him back up with the blanket.

“I’m glad you’re up.” Sandor watched as Ray grabbed the empty bowl from his hands and started to walk out of the shack. He looked over his shoulder at Sandor and told him he will tell you that he's up.

Sandor was left alone and he stared at his hands on his lap trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’s alive thanks to you. He looked up at the sound of someone running. He froze when he saw you by the door. You stared at him with wide eyes and a big smile. You looked different. You wore dark trousers with a beige tunic instead of your usual dress. You looked slimmer, and you looked like you had been out in the sun for too long.

“Sandor.” You cried as you walked inside and sat on the bed close to him. Sandor didn’t say anything when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and hugged him.

“I’m so happy you’re up.” You said looking at him, cupping his face with your hands. Sandor tried not to cry, he really did but you were there in front of him, alive and he was alive too.

“It’s okay, my love.” You whispered as you kissed his cheeks. You caressed his burned cheek while he looked at you.

“Thank you.” He softly said.

“Thank you.” He repeated as tears ran down his cheeks.

He kissed you gently and laid his forehead against yours. You pulled away when you heard him let out a sharp breath, he bore a grimace look on his face.

“Are you in pain? Ray said he put the paste on your leg. I’ll give you some milk of the poppy.” You said leaning forward to the table, grabbing a small vessel and the cup Ray had bought.

“Where did you get that?” Sandor asked as he watched you put a few drops in his cup. Medicine is not cheap.

“Ray took me to a town a few miles away. I have been chopping wood and selling them there. I got enough money for medicine.” He was about to take the cup from your hands when he froze at the sight of them.

He grabbed one of them when he noticed the bandage wrapped around your palm. Your hands were different as well. Not the hands of a lady anymore. Your hands were rough and you had dirt underneath your fingernails.

“It’s just a cut. It’s healing.” You told Sandor as you gave him the cup and removed your hand from his grasp.

“Let me see.” You shook your head.

“Drink first. Please.” Sandor didn’t say anything.

“Please. I’m alright.” You said pushing the cup towards his mouth. Sandor didn’t want to anger you so he did what you told him. He was ashamed that you had to work to take care of him.

You told him about Ray and the group as you helped him lay back down. You told him how Stranger was outside as well. You didn’t have the heart to sell the horse and his sword, you thought if Sandor died then Stranger and the weapon would be a reminder of him. However you did have to sell his armor for a maester to come all the way up the hills to check up on him.

Sandor was drifting into sleep from milk of the poppy when he noticed he took almost the entire makeshift bed. He wanted to ask where you slept. He was going to ask when you started to hum softly to him. He felt your hands on his head, you brushed his hair with your fingers as you continued to hum.

Sandor got his answer in the middle of the night when he woke himself up from a cough. He opened his eyes slowly, still feeling the effects of milk of the poppy. He saw a small candle on the table near him burning. He looked around as best he could. He stopped when he saw you on the ground sleeping. He wanted to get up to get you in bed with him but he winced at the pain in his knee. You were in the corner with a pillow under your head and a blanket over you. Sandor can see you were holding one of his knives in your hand while you slept.

He tried to call your name out, trying to fight back the sleep but he lost and shut his eyes. Days passed and Sandor got better and stronger. He was in a foul mood every time you left for work and came back. You spoke to him telling him you did this for him because you love him.

“I know you would have done the same for me if I was the one in that bed.” You told him. Sandor nodded as he agreed with you.

Sandor tried to have you sleep in the makeshift bed with him. He had shouted until you laid with him every night. As soon as you heard him snoring, you carefully got off. You didn’t want to tell Sandor the real reason why you chose to sleep on the ground. Some nights you would sit on the ground by him and stare at the entrance of the shack.

Days turned into weeks and Sandor was finally able to walk with the help of Ray and a teenager boy named James who wasn’t afraid of him.

Sandor already had a reputation among the group and they weren’t to kin at the idea of the tall man with half of a burned face around them. Sandor walked a few steps before sitting back down. Ray told him it was normal and to have him walk more to get the strength of his legs back up again.

Sandor was up and walking in no time. The sept you were helping build was done. Sandor and you went with Ray along with his group to another place to do the same. Since the group changed location it wasn’t too far from the shack. Each morning, Sandor and you rode Stranger to work then back again in the afternoon to the shack to rest.

You ignore the talk and the stares people did whenever they saw Sandor and you. Sandor impressed many when he was able to carry a log by himself, a log that took at least five people to carry. Sandor began to chop wood and he made you get a job that didn’t require so much manual labor. You didn't want to at first, since you got used to the work but Sandor pleaded with you. You started to help the other woman with the cooking and the cleaning.

You ignored the snickering you heard behind your back from the women who talked about you being with Sandor. Some were afraid of him, while others were repulsed by his face and some were jealous of you for having a man like Sandor. Tall and strong is what you heard from them and for the first time it made you feel jealous.

Sandor and you have been traveling alone for so long that there weren't other people to make you feel that way. You knew Sandor wasn't like that, talking to other women or even looking at them. Even on the road and going inside of a tavern he never once looked at women.

The woman in the group wore dresses while you wore trousers and a shirt that Ray had given you. Your hair that was once brushed and braided is now tangled and greasy from being out in the sun and working. Insecurity and jealousy seeped into your body.

You were unaware that Sandor heard how the men spoke about you. Just like you, Sandor knew the rules not to fight and not to steal from each other. Sandor didn’t want to be the reason to be kicked out of this place. It was good, no one knew who both of you were, both of you had somewhere to stay and had food.

Sandor was surprised when Ray came around the corner and spoke out when he heard one of the men start to speak about you. “Perhaps if you pray hard enough to the gods, they will bless you with a lass like her. Hardworking and pretty.”

Ray looked over to Sandor who walked away to get another log.

“Y/n didn’t tell me what happened to you.” Sandor heard Ray behind him following him deeper into the woods to his chopping area.

“It was a fight.” Sandor replied.

“Wow, I don’t want to see what the other guy looks like.”

Sandor shook his head. “It was a woman. A tall, big fucking woman.”

Ray chuckled. “She wanted to take Y/n away from me.”

“Well, I’m glad she didn’t.” Ray walked closer to Sandor. “Me too.” Sandor said as he sat on a log stretching his leg.

“Many people say you came back from the dead. Some said it was fairies that healed you.” Sandor scoffs at the idea of little fairies over him.

“I know Y/n helped but it was up to you to survive. What made you survive? I didn’t have the heart to tell Y/n that you were done for. No man can come out of the state you were in.” Ray said.

Sandor thought about it for a minute, why was he still alive? Perhaps it was for you, to keep you safe. Before you, he was alive to have his revenge on his brother. “Hate or maybe I’m just a hard fucker to kill.”

Ray shook his head not believing him. “No, there's a reason. Gods aren’t done with you yet.”

“Heard that one before.” Sandor said as he remembered Beric telling him that the gods wanted him alive before leaving with you after his win. Sandor didn’t believe it at all.

“Why would the gods want me alive? I have done hateful shit before. You don’t know the things I have done.”

“If you are what you say then why is she with you?” Ray said, looking behind Sandor.

Sandor followed his gaze to see you walking towards them along with two bowls in your hands. “I believe you're alive for a reason.” Ray said, patting Sandor on the shoulder then left.

Ray greeted you as you walked past him.

“Hey.” You told Sandor as you passed him a bowl with rice and meat.

“Thanks.” Sandor said while you took a small leather wineskin off your shoulder.

“Your favorite, water.” You told him before giving it to him. Sandor snorted a chuckle, he was telling you this morning how he would chop every fucking tree in the forest for some ale.

You used your fingers to grab the meat and rice as Sandor took a drink of water. It’s been a while since he had ale or wine. He was alright without it just as long he was with you, he thought to himself. He closed the wineskin and looked down at the bowl. He was still thinking about those men talking about you. It wasn’t the first time he heard men speaking about you. In King’s Landing, he saw how men looked at you. He heard what the knights and lords said about you. The Lords were all over your father asking for your hand but your father kept telling them how you were already promised to another. He never found out who it was though and he didn't want to think of it. Another man with you, another man touching you and looking at you. He was able to give one look at the knights and scare them off but he didn’t know what to do about the men here.

He didn’t want to cause a problem. He didn’t want both of you to get kicked out. Ray seemed nice enough. Ray never looked at you like you were a piece of meat.

Sandor trusted Ray with you, he knew why Ray helped you heal him. It was after a tale Ray told to the group one afternoon. Ray had told the group that he had gotten into a fight when he was still in his misfit ways with a couple of smugglers. At the end, the smugglers sought out where he lived and killed his daughter because he wasn't there.

“ I can not bring back my daughter. I regret that fight so much but I know I can make a difference now. I can bring back a bit of good into this world.”

His story was cut short when three men rode into their camp looking for trouble. Sandor had gently pushed you behind him when the men started to stare at the woman of the group. He knew who they were, they were from the brotherhood and followed the Red God. They didn't recognize him, Sandor had longer hair that touched his shoulders and was much lighter in color. The beard that he kept short was now fuller. You hid behind Sandor, your forehead was pressed against his back as you listened to the men asking Ray if they had any gold or weapons. You gripped the back of his shirt when the leader of the men told Ray to be careful because the night is dark and full of terror.

Sandor didn't sleep that night, he stayed up with his sword in his hand in case they came. Ray told him that he wouldn't fight them because violence is a disease. He kept looking at the entrance of the shack. Sandor knew Ray was right about violence being a disease but it was the only way to make sure you were safe.

Ray helped you because you remind him of his daughter. Ray couldn't do anything to help his daughter but he was going to make sure to help you and he did. Sandor was alive, breathing and walking again.

Sandor swore to himself that he was going to do the same as you did for him. You helped him, you saved him from death. He wasn't going to let anything or anyone hurt you. You showed how much he means to you. You showed him everyday how much you loved him.

“I love you.” He mumbled without a thought. His eyes widened at his confession, he quickly turned away from you.

“What?” You asked when you heard Sandor mumble something. You were too busy eating to hear what he said.

Sandor shook his head and kept eating, avoiding your gaze.

“I want you to tell me if anyone is bothering you. Alright?” Sandor finally spoke after a few minutes. You looked over at him with a strange look. Did he find out?

“What are you talking about?” You asked softly, trying not to panic.

“I heard some of the men talking about you.” Sandor said, looking over you as you wiped one of your hands on your pants. You let out a small sigh of relief.

“I don’t know if I’ll need you to save me. I’m pretty good with an ax.” You said, giving him a smile. He didn't need to know, you thought to yourself. It was over, he’s safe. He is alive, that's what matters.

Sandor grinned at you. You were good that he had to admit, he had seen you chopping wood. At one point he had to leave when he got a hard on from just watching you. He got aroused by the look on your flushed face, the sweat dripping down your forehead and neck. He liked it, it reminded him whenever you rode him. Your body would be covered in sweat as you moved your hips, your breasts bouncing. Your sweaty face reminded him of the time he pounded you from behind. Your pretty face looked at him over your shoulder mewling with each thrust.

“The women talk about you too. You know?” You said as you brought a piece of meat to your mouth. Sandor shook his head at you as he ate.

“He’s the tallest man I've ever seen in my life. He’s so strong.” You said mimicking in a high pitch voice making him chuckle.

“Pretty soon I'll have to swing my ax to keep them away from you.” Sandor chuckled looking at you. He stopped when he noticed you looked a bit annoyed. This was new for Sandor, he had never seen this side of you before. You’re jealous and he didn't like seeing you like this. He didn't know what to do to make you stop feeling this. Sandor wasn't good with emotions, he knew that. You were the first person to ever make him feel something that wasn't hate. He was nervous about what to say, last time the words came out of his mouth without a thought. Those words back in the barn, he regretted because of the face you made when he mentioned your family.

In his mind he wanted to say, stop being stupid. I don't want those broads.

“There's only you, Y/n. I only want you.” The words that came out of his mouth washed away the insecurity and jealousy you felt. You looked at Sandor and saw he was being sincere, you looked away licking your lips.

“Y/n. Look at me.” Sandor spoke, you looked over at him. He had gotten closer to you.

“I only want you. You’re all I want.”

You bite your bottom lip as Sandor kisses your cheek. It’s been so long since you felt him, since you felt his touch. You wanted him so bad but you knew he had to heal. You didn’t want to hurt his knee but your fingers weren't the same as his, your cunt was used to his rough and large fingers. Your body craved his touch and cock. You yearned for him. It’s been months without him.

You felt Sandor kiss the corner of your lips. You dropped your bowl to the ground to kiss him on the lips.

Sandor dropped his bowl as well to grab you, he wanted to be closer to you. He wanted to feel you. “Are you sure?” He heard you asked him as you kissed his neck.

“Aye.” He said standing up from the log, pulling you up to follow him further into the forest. He didn't want anyone seeing you.

“You?” He asked. You nodded, “Yes please” He grins at your response.

He found a large enough tree to keep both of you hidden behind. He pushed you gently against the tree as he leaned down to kiss you on the lips. His hands grabbed your ass, squeezing it over your trousers. You let out a moan as he nipped your neck.

“Sandor.” You cry his name. His large fingers made their way to the rope tied around your trousers to keep them from falling down. He untied it and pulled your trousers off along with your boots.

He let out a moan when he came close to your mound, he kissed it. Enjoying the scent of your musk. He was about to eat you out when you begged for his cock.

Sandor felt himself grow hard at your words. You told him how much you missed his cock, and you missed how he fucked you. He quickly pulls his own trousers down, jerking himself a bit.

Sandor manhandled you and picked you up roughly. Your back was against the tree, legs wrapped around his waist. Your fingers digging into his shoulder as he slipped himself inside of you. He groans as he feels your cunt on him. You were so tight, it’s been so long since he felt you. He was shocked how wet you were. You were wet just by kissing him.

He held you tight as he thrust inside of you. He held your ass in one hand while his hands held onto the tree.

“F-F-uc-k.” You cried into his neck as he fucked you. You heard Sandor grunting as he thrust into you hard and rough.

“You’re mine.” Sandor moaned into your ear. “You hear me?”

“Mine.” Sandor said as he felt you clench around his cock by his words. He hated hearing the other men talk about you. Didn’t they know that you were with him, that he’s yours and you’re his.

“You like that? Knowing you’re mine. You’re fucking mine.” Sandor grunted as he felt you cum around his cock.

“Yes.” You moan as he kept fucking through your orgasm. You held him tight as he reached for his climax. He let out harsh grunts against your neck as he fucked your cunt. Thrusting in and out rapidly, the sound of your ass hitting against his thighs can be heard.

“You little minx.” Sandor tells you as he feels your wetness dripping down his balls. Letting out a whine when you felt your clit against his stomach. The feeling of his happy trail rubbing against your throbbing clit made you lightheaded. You were about to cum for a second time.

“Say your mine.” Sandor cries out about to cum.

“I’m yours. I’m your woman.” You tell him out of breath.

“Only yours.”

You kissed him harshly and sloppy. Your tongue slipped in his mouth as you moaned. Sandor bit your bottom lip when he felt you cum again on his cock. He grunts as he pushes you completely against the tree. His hand leaves your ass to hold both of your legs open as he cums deep inside of you.

You ignored the pain of the tree bark digging your back as you felt Sandor cumming inside of you. You felt him thrust softly making you whine while he grunted.

“Fuck, Y/n.” Sandor says as he holds you. He moans as he kisses your neck. He held you against the tree for a moment. He held you, enjoying your warmth and scent. He had to stop to admire you. Your eyes were bright and your lips turned upwards in a smile.

He wanted to remember you like this. He wanted to say those three words again so you could hear him but fear filled him. What if he said it and he would wake up in that place again. He didn't want to wake up to see the multicolor fabrics on the ceiling.

He winces as he pulls out from you softly so he doesn’t hurt you. He brings you down to your feet. You lean against the tree, your cunt throbbing and legs wobbly. Sandor quickly pulls his pants up. He grabs his handkerchief from his back pocket to kneel down in front of you.

He looks up at you as he wipes his cum dripping out of you, he’s so tender as he wipes. Grabbing your discarded pants, he helps you to put them back on.

“Thank you.” You said as you sat down on the ground to put on your boots. He waits for you as he catches his breath while leaning against the tree. He looked around for a moment, he hoped no one saw. He knew he was going to kill someone if they mention seeing him with you fucking.

“I missed you.” Sandor heard you say as you got up and walked in front of him.

“Me too.” He said as you leaned against him, hugging him. You laid your head on his chest, he wrapped his arms around you placing his chin on top of your head. Sandor had come to be comfortable doing this with you, hugging you.

He wanted to tell you that you were the first person to ever hug him. He thought what his brother would say if he saw him hugging right now. Gregor, without a doubt would’ve punched him in the face and called him a pussy.

After some time both of you walked back to retrieve the bowls then back to the main camp. You talked to Sandor about what the people from the group wanted to build next.

Sandor nodded when you mentioned their plans, walking back to the main camp to bring the bowls back. You froze when you saw the body of a woman a few feet away from you laying on the ground. You looked over at Sandor who began to look around for anyone else when an arrow was sticking out of her chest.

You quickly began to sprint further into the camp and cried out when you saw the group was dead, all of them. Their throats had been split open, others had an arrow in their chest or in their head.

“Sandor!” He heard you cry out as he walked towards you. You were kneeling over James. The teenager had an arrow in his chest. He was gurling blood out of his mouth as he tried to speak. “They came back.” You looked up at Sandor who’s eyes darkened at his words.

“The men on the horses?” You asked as you held the boy's hand.

“Y-y-ye.” James tried to speak but his eyes closed. You looked up at Sandor and your face fell at the thought of Ray. He was the one who spoke to them.

“Ray.” You shouted looking around. Sandor quickly walked further to find Ray as well. You got up to follow him, you looked ahead to see Sandor standing still in front of the unbuilt sept.

Sandor heard you behind and turned around. “Don’t look.” He told you but you didn’t listen.

You cried as you saw Ray hanging from the half build sept. Sandor continued to stare at Ray. He didn’t deserve to die. He looked away from the body and kept looking around in case the bastards were still around. He had to keep you safe.

“We have to go.” Sandor told you as he grabbed your arm. Sandor needed to take you back to the shack, he will stand guard all night again.

“Aren't we going to find them?” You asked him, making him stop in mid step.

“What?” Sandor asked.

“I want them dead for killing Ray.” You told Sandor as your face grew angry with furrowed brows.

You wanted revenge. Sandor nodded, he wanted the same thing. Ray did not deserve it, not after everything he did for you and him.

“Let’s get our stuff first.” He told you.

Packing as fast as you can while Sandor got Stranger ready to ride, making sure his sword along with his ax was strapped on the horse. You wiped your tears quickly and walked out of the shack. You handed Sandor another pack. Sandor was about to help you saddle when you did it all by yourself. He sometimes forgets that you have changed. You weren’t the same lady that he left King’s Landing with. He noticed a knife strapped by your belt.

Sandor rode behind you on Stranger who let out a neigh as it began to walk out of camp. Sandor knew they couldn’t be far. The wounds on the people were still fresh. It was 20 minutes later when both of you heard people talking.

“Is it them?” You asked Sandor as he got off the horse first a few feet away from. Sandor grabbed his sword.

“Stay on the horse until we know for sure.” Sandor told you before walking towards them.

“Oh shit.” You heard from the other members of Brotherhood without Banners. You looked around to see them staring at you and Sandor.

“Clegane. What the fuck you doing here?” Thoros said, looking at him then at you.

“My lady.” You didn’t respond to him.

“Chasing the men who killed the group that was building the sept. We were helping build it. They killed a friend of ours.” Sandor told him.

“You have friends, Clegane?” Thoros asked, surprised.

“Not anymore.” Sandor snapped back.

“No need to chase.” Beric said then looked back at the three men about to be hanged in front of them.

“They did it. We are going to hang them.” Beric said. You grabbed the reins on Stranger, signaling the horse to walk forward.

“I’m surprised you’re still with Clegane, My lady.” Beric said as you got off Stranger and walked towards them ignoring Beric.

“Who killed him?” You asked the three men.

“Who the fuck killed the man in charge?” You yelled. The left one shouted it was the one in the middle.

“You fucker!!” The middle man shouted as he looked nervously at you and Sandor.

“I want him.” You told Beric who looked shocked.

“Give me this one.” Sandor said, pointing the one to the right since the man was eyeing you.

“My lady.” Beric spoke but you cut him off. “I want him. I’ll slit his fucking throat.” You grabbed your knife from your belt and Sandor was about to swing his sword.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Thoros said to both you and Sandor, stopping both of you.

“It’s the brotherhood's good name-“ Beric said standing in front of Sandor.

“Fuck your name. They are ours to kill. I have killed you once before. I’ll be happy to do it again.” Sandor cut him off quickly and got close to him, staring him down.

“These are our men. We will kill them. Lady Stark, this isn’t you.” You frowned at Thoros.

“These men killed our friend. Ray helped us, feed us and cloth us. These fuckers came and killed him.” You hissed looking back at the middle man who looked like he was about to shit on himself.

“Alright, we will give you two out of respect for your friend.” You looked over Sandor who gave you a nod.

Sandor raised his sword but was stopped by Beric who told him not to chop off a body part. Only hanging. You continued to stare at the man as Sandor cursed them out about being weak and how he would have killed everyone just to kill the three how he sees fit.

You sighed as you pushed the barrel softly so it could be longer for him to die. Sandor did the same, you heard Beric and Sandor talking behind you while the three men hanged to their death. All you did was watch them. Their faces turned red while their legs swung around. Sandor looked over at you when you didn’t move or even flinched when the legs of the middle guy got close to you.

What made you change? He thought. This had to be the first person you killed, right?

“Y/n?” You turned around at Sandor, he gave you a look.

“You alright?” He asked. You nodded.

He watched as you walked back to Stranger, the nod you gave him made him feel unease. He looked back at the middle and started to rip his boots off along with his belt so he could have his sword strap to his hip. He knew both of you would need better supplies for traveling up north. Both of you decided to continue the journey again to see Jon. He took the cape from the man next to him as well. Winter is coming and both of you have to be prepared for the cold.

Beric was kind enough to spare some food for you and Sandor. You kept to yourself as Beric and Thoros spoke to Sandor about the gods bringing them back together for a reason. Thoros looked over you and passed his pouch full of rum towards you. You thanked him with a nod and took a drink.

“What about you?” Beric said, looking over at you. His eyes watched you carefully then at Sandor. He was a bit worried that you had been this long with the hound. He noticed you looked different as well.

“What about me?” You asked, passing the pouch back to Thoros.

“You’re alive. Most highborn ladies aren’t cut out living like this.” You sighed at his words.

Sandor looked at you as you stared at the fire when you didn’t reply back to Beric. His words cut deep into you, you knew if it wasn’t for Sandor you would have died or worse kidnapped and raped. You would have been at the end of the cliffs sitting next to Sandor’s corpse if it wasn’t for Ray.

You shut your eyes as you kept seeing Ray swaying back and forth from the half built sept. You missed him. He was the only one who talked to you when Sandor was still sleeping. He stood by your side whenever you tended Sandor’s wound. He stood up for you when the group threatened to kick you for not contributing more when Sandor was still injured.

You felt so hopeless because you always needed someone to come to your rescue. You wished you could have protected Sandor from Brienne, you wished you could have saved Ray from being hung. You wished you were able to save your brothers, your mother and father. You were so weak and you hated yourself for it.

The only time you felt strong was that night Ray found you in the shack. Sandor was quick to place a hand on your back when you broke down in tears in front of them. Beric and Thoros stood quiet as you wept.

“I’m sorry. I miss Ray.” You told them as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand.

“I would have been dead a long time ago if it wasn’t for him and Sandor.” Beric nodded, giving you a sympathetic look.

“The gods have a plan for you as well. Think about it, you have come so far even with the help of them.” Beric said as he looked over at your shoulder when he noticed a few men from their group noticing you crying. They began to stare at you as they talked among themselves.

Sandor followed his gaze to the group a few feet away from them. Sandor moved closer to you. His legs practically pushed against yours. He was ready to kill any fucker that would come close to you.

“Why don’t you join us? Both of you. We need your help. Something is coming this way. We are part of something larger. We need good people to help us.”

Beric watched as Sandor passed a piece of jerky to you when you finally calmed down. Thoros and Beric shared a look. Sandor Celgane, the hound is being nice.

“I need to go to Jon.” You told them.

“Jon Snow, he’s Lord Commander of the night watch.” Beric said, making you smile at your brother's accomplishment.

“He’s the only family I have left. We were going to see him.” You didn’t know if your sisters were alive, Jon is your last resort.

“We want to go beyond the walls. Let’s travel together since we are headed in the same direction.” He suggested. You let Sandor decide, you knew he would pick what was best.

“Any of your men touch her. I’ll gut them alive.” Sandor said to Beric and Thoros.

“I do the same if they do.” Thoros admits looking between Sandor and you.

Riding alone was something you had to get used to quickly, they had extra horses since the hanging. You missed the heat Sandor gave when he rode behind you. You missed the conversations and being close to him. Sandor had told you that he would prefer to have you ride in front of him where he can see you. Beric rode beside you while Thoros rode next to Sandor. You couldn’t help but laugh as they bickered like children behind you.

Sandor swore that Thoros’ top knot was a wig while Thoros gave Sandor the nickname grouchy old bear. Vulgar insults were thrown at each other.

“Beric?” You called out to the man as you both rode next to each other.

“Yes, my lady.” He answered looking over at you.

“Do you truly believe in the gods?” You question him as you try to ignore the bickering behind you.

“I do. I have been dead 6 times and brought back.”

“I want to tell you something.” Beric looked at you worried but nodded.

“Sandor was hurt. Really bad and I felt his heart stop beating many times but he always came back. There was a woman in the group who said she saw the children of the forest. Everyone thought she was crazy but I didn’t. My father believed they were real but went extinct a long time ago.” You said remember the girl and how her face lit up when telling you stories about them. You felt sad when you remembered seeing her on the ground with her throat slit open. She was the only kind person to you beside Ray.

“She found me one day and said she spoke to them about Sandor. They gave her something. A flower, they told her to make a medicine out of it. A paste.” Beric watched as your eyes got teary.

“I did it and Beric it worked. Sandor had his bone sticking out his knee. I thought the scar would have never healed but it did. If you see it, it’s just a line now. I’m telling you this because I don’t know what to believe anymore. If the gods were real, why was my father, a good man, beheaded? Why was my mother and brothers murdered but I was spared?”

“The gods almost took Sandor away from me. They would have if it wasn’t for the children of the forest.” You said.

Beric was quiet for a second before speaking. “Y/n, it’s alright to feel conflicted about believing in the gods or something else. It’s what makes humans. Who knows why the children of the forest helped or why you were spared. I ask myself the same question everyday, every hour. Why me? Why am I alive? I’ll tell you something, I knew we were going to cross paths again, Clegane and you.” Your eyes widen by his words.

“I saw it in the flames. Us riding together going up north.”

“When I tell you, my lady. That we are part of something I was not bullshitting, maybe it’s the new god, old gods, every fucking god there is and the children of the forest working as one. Now that we are together, we need to find out why. ”

“You know, Ned talked about you a lot.” He spoke after a brief moment of silence.

“He loved you dearly. He always said that the new and old gods bless him with a child like you. The men and I didn’t think anything of it at first. We just thought it was because you were his first daughter but seeing you now alive after everything. I believe him now.” Beric told you, your heart grew heavy at the thought of your father.

“You girls done gossiping? Let’s set up camp?” Thoros shouted from behind.

Sandor and you sat together away from the group for some privacy. Sandor rubbed his hands together as he stared at the small fire a few feet away from him. He wanted to ask you something that's been on his mind for a while now. That night he saw you sleeping on the ground with a knife in your hand. He wanted to know what made you change while he was asleep.

“I can hear you thinking.” He looked over you, seeing you smiling at him as you stretched your legs. You were sitting on a log next to him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, grabbing his hand that was on his knee.

“Have you killed anyone else?” He asked you, making you pause.

You wanted to lie and say no. You didn’t want to cause any problems but you knew Sandor would just know you were lying. You didn’t want to get him angry.

You nodded, “Aye, I have.”

Sandor turned to you with a look that made you remove your hand from his. You grew worried.

“You were still asleep and some man from the group thought he could have his way with me. He came one night.” Sandor frowned and started to breathe heavily.

“He tried to kill you first and I knew right then and there. If I didn't kill him right away we both would have been dead.”

“I remembered what you told me, aim for the heart. I grabbed a knife where I kept your sword and rammed it into his chest. I didn’t stop until I heard Ray calling out for me.”

“Your hand?” Sandor asked, grabbing your hand to see the healed scar on the palm of hand.

“He tried to kill you. I wasn’t going to let that happen. I grabbed his knife and pushed him.” Sandor traced the scar with his thumb.

“You changed, little wolf. I’m sorry. I wasn’t there to help.”

“Without your teaching, I would have been raped or dead.” You told Sandor.

Sandor was about to say something when you spoke something that was troubling you.

“I liked it. The killing. The look on his face, his blood, the scent of it. The power I felt and all I can see was Joffrey, Ceresi, the Freys, and fucking everyone who betrayed or hurted us.”

“I thought of your brother as well for hurting you.” You told Sandor as you looked at him nervously.

“I know you never told me but I know. Little finger told me. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“What else do you know?” Sandor asked, ignoring the apology.

“Your fear with fire.” You said softly. “I've seen it.”

Sandor nodded as he looked at you. He kinda already knew that you were aware about the story of his face but he didn’t know that you knew about his fear of fire. He tried to keep it hidden from you.

“The night of the battle of Blackwater. Everything was on fire and all I thought about was you. I was so scared that the fires would get to you in the castle.”

“You still want me?” Sandor asked nervously.

“What?!” You asked..

“Do you still want to be with a man who's afraid of fire?”

“Of course, I do.” You told him, going between his legs, kneeling in front of him.

“What about you, do you still want me? I don’t look like a lady anymore or act like one now.” Sandor grinned as he shook your head at your nonsense question.

“Your lady is a murder now?” You added.

“You aren’t! You protected yourself. It’s defense.” Sandor told you tugging you closer to him.

“I’m proud of you.” Sandor said with a nod. Sandor wasn’t a man of many words but he really was proud of you.

“So do I get a reward for keeping my man safe?” You asked as you pulled Sandor down to face you. You kissed scarred cheek making him chuckle.

Your man, Sandor, loves the sound of that.

“What do you want, little wolf?” He asked as your lips started to head towards his neck. He quickly looked at his surroundings making sure no one was looking. Most were already asleep or talking among themselves. He let out a soft whine when you pulled the collar of the tunic shirt down to kiss his chest, your fingers touching his soft chest hair.

“What does my little wolf want?” Sandor asked again as he grabbed your chin making you look up at him. He stared down at you with hooded eyes, you let out a shy giggle under his gaze.

“I want you.” You whispered to him. Sandor immediately leaned down to kiss you on the lips.

Snow started to fall and the air started to get colder as the group made their way up north Each day you got more excited to get to Castle Rock. You longed to see Jon. You wanted to hug him and tell him about everything. You wanted to tell him about Sandor. You hoped Jon knew something about your sisters. You hoped Sansa was alive as well as Arya. You forgave her a long time ago for wishing your death. You couldn’t be mad at her. Sandor took her friend's life but you understood that he did because the King ordered him too.

Death was something you thought a lot about even before Kings Landing. You were glad that your father told you about it when you were younger. He didn’t shield you from the world as your mother shielded Sansa.

“It happens to everyone. We must not fear death. For death comes to everyone.”

You told Sandor the exact same words that your father told you. It was after Joffrey showed you and Sansa your father‘s head on a spike. He found you on the balcony again later that day, Tears rolling down your face as you stared at your father and Sansa’s septon. The older woman was kind even when Sansa wasn’t.

He immediately gave you a handkerchief as he stood by you. You grabbed it, giving him a nod of thank you.

“You’re not afraid.” He said looking at you. You didn’t flinch like Sansa did when she first saw it. You repeated your father’s words to Sandor.

“Your father was a smart man.” You shook your head.

“If he was smart, he wouldn’t have gotten himself killed.” You said looking at Sandor who looked shocked at your words.

“He was up to something and he didn’t tell me. I don’t know why. I would have helped him. Now he’s fucking dead, leaving my sisters and I in this shit hole.” Sandor watched as you turned around to face the wall and played with his handkerchief in your hands.

“You aren’t like the little bird.” You chuckled at him and agreed. You were nothing like Sansa. She was mostly with your mother while you were closer to your father.

“Unlike her I learned how the world works at a young age. I learned what my place would be the moment I bled for the first time. That was the moment I realized that the stories I read when I was a child about kind, merciful kings and honorable knights were really just fantasy.”

Sandor listened attentively as you spoke. You were perhaps the only lady he ever met that spoke the truth and for some reason it made him feel sad. You weren’t a horrible person, you were kind to everyone, especially to him. You deserve the honorable knight and the kind and merciful king. He thought to himself. You’re tough and he liked it but sometimes it bit you right in the ass when it came with Joffrey. Sandor realizes at the moment near the bridge that he likes you and he will protect your sister and you from the monsters living in King’s Landing.

You knew you should have told Sandor something was not right with you as the days passed. You noticed your moonblood hasn’t started for a while but you didn't think anything of it. Your mother has told you when a lady is under tremendous stress and hasn't been eating properly. Her moonblood would often not come.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had a good meal or a good sleep. Sandor would give you his share but you always decline. You knew Sandor needed more than you. He wouldn’t let you lift a finger when both of you joined the group. He hunted for food at dawn with a man who was good with a bow and arrow. He chopped up the woods for the fires every night and morning. Sandor had you stay with Beric and Thoros most of the time.

You haven’t been able to sleep at night as much as you tried to snuggle with Sandor. Sleep wouldn’t come to you. You began to worry as cold chills ran through your body.

“What’s wrong?” Sandor asked when he saw you haven’t eaten your ration yet. You had placed the bowl on the ground as you hunched over near the fire. You tugged the fur cape around you when your body started to shake.

“I’m not hungry.” Beric overheard you and walked toward Sandor and you.

“What do you mean? You haven’t eaten this morning and last night.” Sandor knelt down to get close to your face.

“I don’t feel good.” You whispered as you felt the tears welled up in your eyes. You felt like shit, your body was aching. Your fingers and toes felt like they were going to fall off from the cold.

Sandor stood up and looked over his shoulder to see Beric walking towards him.

“She’s sick.” Sandor told him as Beric got closer.

“Fuck, we past by the only town five days ago. It should be a week until we reach the wall.” Thoros came walking in listening to them.

“I didn’t see a maester in the town we passed.” Thoros told them since he was the one gathering supplies for the group. Sandor let out a sigh, he didn’t see one either but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one for sure.

Sandor came back to you, kneeling down in front of you again as Beric and Thoros stood a few feet behind him.

“Y/n.” Sandor said your name softly trying to catch your attention but you kept staring off into the distance.

“We are a week away from the wall. The town we passed by was five days ago. We don’t know if there is a maester in that town for sure. Are you able to hold on for a week?” When you didn’t answer he grew nervous. He noticed you were dozing off.

“What do you want to do?” He asked, cupping your face trying to get your attention.

“I don’t feel so good.” You mumbled. Sandor felt his stomach drop when he touched your forehead, you had a fever.

“I’ll go back to town and come back as fast as I can.” He said as he got up. His words snapped you right out of your disorientated trance.

“Don’t leave me. Please.” You pleaded, grabbing his hand.

“I’ll be fine. We keep moving forward.” Sandor looked over to Beric and Thoros. You took a deep breath and rubbed your eyes with the palm of your hand. You didn’t want to be away from him.

“Try to eat something.” You shook your head. “For me.” Sandor pleaded.

He grabbed your bowl of warm soup and he sat next to you. Sandor tilted the bowl in your mouth so you could drink straight from the bowl. You didn’t realize you had slept after he fed you. The men from the group watched as Sandor warmed you as you slept, rubbing your arms and back as you leaned against him.

The second day you weren’t able to ride anymore. You were looking ahead when you felt lightheaded. You let go of the reins and fell off your horse onto the cold snowed ground. Last thing you heard before passing out was Sandor yelling your name. The group knew Sandor was at his last wits when you still hadn't woken up on the fourth day. Sandor wiped the sweat off your forehead and kept the fire burning near you. He rubbed your freezing hands with his warm ones. They helped Sandor, carrying you up to get on top of Stranger, Sandor kept one arm around you so you wouldn’t fall off as they kept riding to the wall.

The fifth day, the weather was horrible. The cold wind blew harshly and the horses were growing tired. Beric decided they should set camp when one of the men in the group announced he knew a small cottage ahead. Sandor kept quiet when the familiar cottage came to his view.

Sandor wanted to keep going for your sake but another harsh wind blew and it made him shake. He had given his only fur to you but the fever was growing stronger. Sandor would be up until dawn wiping the sweat from your face. Every hour he would place his head on your chest to hear your heart making sure you were still alive.

He would be anxious as he held you closer to the fire during breaks. His eyes would look away from the flames and stare down at you. He had to be close to the fire to warm your hands and feet. Beric noticed the look Sandor had whenever he was near the fire. He offered to hold you near the fire but Sandor would always tell him to fuck off.

At night he hugged you from behind as he sat on the ground. His back against the tree while the small fire Thoros had made for him was near him. Sandor’s body shook behind you, his forehead pressed against the back of your head. He didn’t want to look at the fire not while he was this close to it.

He knew he had to get over his fear for you, every night he tried his best. He wasn’t going to let you freeze to death so he knew he had too. He tried his best to calm his shallow breathing. He shut his eyes and his mind tends to wander off that night in the tavern where you confessed your love to him.

He didn’t understand why you were sick. Beric and Thoros threw around ideas about your illness. Something you ate, perhaps the water. Ideas were said but in the end they weren’t maesters, they didn't know much. Sandor held you tighter when they got near the cottage. He wondered if the farmer and daughter were still there.

“Let’s stay for the night.” Beric said, the group agreed. Thoros held the door open as Sandor carefully carried you inside. Beric grabbed the blankets from the packs to lay it on the only bed in the room for you.

The rest store the horses in the stable for the night, one by one they enter the small place. Thoros started a fire in the fireplace. He looked over at you in pity as you slept. He shut his eyes and recited a little prayer for you.

“The weather will set us back at least three days.” Beric said as Sandor took off his cape to drape it over you. He sat at the corner of the bed with a sigh.

“I wonder where the farmer went.” Beric said loudly as he placed his pack on the table looking around at the place.

Sandor kept quiet, ‘somewhere safe.’ He thought. At that moment, he looked over to you when you started to moan in pain as you moved around in the bed. Sandor was quick to get up and lean over you. He called your name out as he grabbed your hand but as soon as he did you stopped. Sandor took a deep breath as he tried not to get angry. He felt so useless that he couldn’t help you.

“I can go to the wall now. I’ll take my horse and won’t stop until I bring a fucking maester back here.” Sandor said. He was about to take his cape when Beric shook his head.

“You won’t make it, not in this weather. Be realistic.” Beric told him. Sandor grew mad at his words.

“Then what the fuck do I do?! She hasn't woken up in days. She hasn’t broken the fever. What do I do then? Why don’t you ask your fucking lord of light?” Sandor hissed at him.

“You said we were part of something but she’s dying now.” Sandor cried out as he looked between Beric and Thoros.

“It was probably just a fucking lie you told us. You knew since she’s a Stark that Snow would grant you access to pass through the wall. So you can do whatever the fuck your lord told you to do.” Sandor said.

Sandor didn’t notice but Beric flashed a look of anger. He wouldn’t have done that to Ned’s daughter, he respected him. He respected you.

Thoros looked away from the fire then at Sandor. “Clegane.” He called out.

“Come here. I want to show you something.” Thoros said when Sandor didn’t move Thoros told him, “Don't worry, the fire won’t bite.”

Sandor rolled his eyes as he took a deep breath. If it wasn’t for you being sick he would have killed everyone in this room. He can imagine you trying to calm him down.

“It’s my fucking luck. I ended up with a band of fire worshippers.” He said as he stood up and walked towards Thoros.

“Almost seems like divine justice.” Beric spoke, making Sandor scoff as he stood a few feet away from the fire.

“There’s no divine justice, you dumb cunt. If there were, then you would be dead and Y/n would be well.”

“Look in the flames.” Thoros said Sandor shook his head.

“I don’t wanna look in the damn flames.” Sandor answered back. Thoros sighed.

“You saw me bring him back from the dead after you killed him. Don’t you want to know what gave me the power?”

“Well, I keep fucking asking and no one wants to tell me.” Sandor answered, looking at him and Beric.

“We can’t tell you. Only the fire can tell you.” Thoros told him Sandor rolled his eyes as he walked closer towards the fireplace.

“What do you see?”

“Logs burning.” Sandor blatantly said.

“Keep looking.”

Sandor was thinking about pushing Thoros into the fire for a second but he relaxed and kept looking. He watched as the flames grew. Sandor felt the hair on the back of neck stand up when he saw an image of ice, a wall of ice, the wall that meets the sea. He held his breath when the images started to move.

“Ice, the wall that meets the sea. Thousands of dead people are marching past.” Beric rose up from his seat and walked toward him.

Sandor flinched when the log broke and the fire got bigger. “There’s a wolf.”

Beric and Thoros look at each other. “A big fucking wolf on a mountain staring at me.”

Thoros was about to speak when you started to cough. The men jumped at the sound of it. Sandor quickly walked over to you.

“Y/n!” He calls your name out as Beric hands him a pouch of water.

You felt Sandor’s warm hand on your face as he helped you pour some water in your mouth. You greedily drank the water. You opened your eyes to see Sandor staring down at you worried as he wiped your mouth with his thumb.

“Sandor.” You say his name. “I’m here.”

Sandor can see your chest heaving, you were moaning in pain as you laid back down. He grabbed your hands with his.

“I saw my father.” You croak out.

“And mother and Robb.” You cried to him.

“I miss them so much.” You sob. Sandor bit his bottom lip hard to not cry with you. The sight of you sick and crying. He didn’t like it one bit. He felt so hopeless.

“Tell Jon I love him.” Sandor heard you say. He shook his head and he squeezed your hands.

“You’ll tell him yourself, you hear me. We are almost there.” Sandor tells you firmly. Sandor feels your hands shaking in his. He brings your hands to his mouth and blows into your hands trying to warm you up.

“I love you.” You whisper at him, Sandor freezes when your hands go limp in his grasp. Sandor was quick to lay his head on your chest when your eyes closed. He can still hear your heart beating, it was slow. The group of men stayed silent as they heard soft sniffling from Sandor. They were smart enough not to say anything, for they knew Sandor would kill them for even speaking about you. Sandor laid with you on the bed keeping you warm, he couldn’t stop the silent tears rolling down his face.

Beric was right, the storm caused them to delay for three days. Sandor walked those three days as Stranger pulled the wagon they found in the barn. You laid there with furs and capes given to you by the men of the group. They were 10 miles away when one of the wildlings found them. Sandor had told them who you were and they were quick to let the group in.

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#sandor x reader #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane #sandor clegane fanfic #sandor the hound clegane #games of thrones fanfiction #games of thrones #rory mccann #Sandor Clegane #smut #sandor clegane smut #Sandor Clegane x reader smut #games of thrones x reader #the hound #got the hound

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moonlightpetalz6 · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Day 4 (Stygiophilia)

Character: Dio Brando x Virgin reader

Reader: Fem Reader

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, Smut, Unprotected sex, Stygiophilia, harsh language, corruption kink, rough sex, blood, talk of religion, mentions of going to hell, degradation, dacryphilia, loss of virginity, manipulation

Stygiophilia: Arousal to the thought of hellfire and damnation.

Wc: 5,042

A/n: Yeaaaaaah I may or may not have fallen behind with my Kinktober works as this is definitely being posted on Day 5. So sorry about that! Thankfully I made sure to get both Day 4&5 written up! (I just have to edit day 5 before posting) Anyway, I tried to get all the warnings labeled and apologize if I missed anything!

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"Young miss, please slow down! A lady must not run!" You heard one of your lady-in-waiting yells after you as you happily ran through the familiar corridors of your home. You were the younger sister of Jonathan Joestar and had been sent away to an all-girls boarding school for the last three years, so you were beyond excited to see your father and older brother. As you reach the front doors to the manor, your eyes light up at the familiar sight of your older brother, a giant smile on his face as he holds his arms out to you, ready to accept your tight embrace. "Brother! I missed you!" You cried while leaping into his arms, causing the older boy to laugh as he held you securely while spinning you around. Your lady-in-waiting finally catches up, placing her hands on her knees as she tries to catch her breath while trying to scold you.

"My dear sister, are you still causing trouble for people? What's the point of sending you to such a high-class school if you refuse to listen!" Jonathan laughs while playfully ruffling your hair. You pout, pushing his hand away as you stick your tongue out playfully, earning another bright smile from the brother you admired with all your heart. "I have so much I wish to talk about! Where is father?!" You cheered, looking around, wishing to tell him your stories. Jonathan frowns as he leads you into the manor by wrapping an arm around your shoulders comfortingly. "Y/n father's condition appears to be getting worse…he is now bedridden." Your eyes go wide in horror as you quickly take off towards your father's room, ignoring your brother's calls for you to wait.

You run up the stairs, shoes slipping off due to your rush, causing you to stumble a bit, but you pay them no mind as you go and push the doors to the room open, not bothering to knock. "Father!" You called tears in your eyes as you looked at the weak figure of your father sitting peacefully in his bed. "Ah, Y/n, my dear, you've come home!" Your father greets you with a small smile before coughing. You rush to his bedside and carefully place your hands on his. "Oh, Father, why didn't you tell me your condition worsened? I would have rushed to your side to help you recover!" Your father only smiles at your words as he gently runs his hand over your hair, comforting your anxious heart.

"That is exactly why I didn't write about it to you. Your studies in becoming a proper lady are far more important than this small illness." He declares, watching as your brows knit together in annoyance. Before you can give any protest to his words, he cuts you off, his gaze averting to one of the corners of the room. "Besides, I had your brothers here to help me. Isn't that right, Dio and Jonathan?" He asks with a soft smile. Your body stiffens at the name of the boy your father had taken into your home. You hated how your father addressed Dio as your brother, for you had never seen or accepted him as anything else but a cruel, uncaring man who took advantage of your father's kind nature. Slowly, you become aware of your father's presence and the other two who stood in the room with you. "That's right, Father. I have ensured to care for him, so you don't need to fret Y/n." Your body shivered, and blood ran cold at the familiar, sickening voice of Dio.

You slowly turn towards where the voice came from, your eyes locked with those dark, cold brown eyes that still torment you years later. “I see…thank you…” You whisper, trailing off as you never knew how to properly converse with the man whose eyes always stared deep into your soul. Dio gives you a smirk as he takes a few steps towards your form. You feel your heart racing with each step, your nerves screaming for you to move or run, but you can't. Thankfully, Jonathan, who had been silently standing by the door this whole time, moves to stand protectively by your side. Dio frowns at this while pretending to look hurt at the two of you. "What is it, Jonathan? I wish to give our dear Y/n a welcoming hug like you and Father." He defends a fake smile on his face as he outstretched his arms to you, expecting your sweet embrace.

You hesitate, eyes trailing to your brother, who looks down at you; worry fills his eyes. You devise an excuse to avoid hugging the man but stop when you feel your father gently squeeze your hands, earning your full attention. "Go on, Y/n! It's rude not to greet everyone, is it not?" You cringe at your father's words, knowing it would only cause problems for his health if you continued to avoid the man, he tried calling son. With a stiff nod, you slowly stand from the side of the bed, hands placed in front of you as you nervously fidget with your fingers and slowly take a few steps toward the much bigger man who looks at you with mischievous eyes. You bite your lip as you shakily bring your arms up for a hug. Dio quickly pulls you close to his chest in an extraordinarily tight and possessive hug.

"Welcome home, Y/n. We've all missed you dearly." You cringe at the fake joy in his voice, knowing it was all an act to get on your father's good side. Dio smirks as he leans his mouth close to your ear, whispering in a tone that no one else could hear. "I don't care how long it takes…you will submit to me." He growls darkly, causing your eyes to widen as you try to pull away from him but fail due to his tight grip. Dio smirks, finding your resistance adorable before his eyes lock with Jonathan, who glared at the two of you, not trusting Dio's intentions after having stumbled upon Dio and you years ago in the manor library. You hadn't done anything as Dio was the one who had you pinned to the bookshelf, his lips pressed angrily to yours. It was a sight Jonathan would never forget as he kept his pure and innocent sister far away from the man.

"I think that's enough, don't you, Dio?" Your brother asked while pulling you away from the blonde's grasp, causing Dio's lip to twitch in annoyance. "Of course, I'm just so excited to see the Joestar's sweet angel return to the manor after so long." He apologized, though you both knew it wasn't sincere. Jonathan frowned before leading you towards the door, stating that he would take you to your room as he assumed you were tired after such a long ride back. You bid goodbye to your father, ignoring Dio, who looked at you with dark and impure eyes. When you leave the room, Dio grits his fists at his side before licking his lip with amusement.

'Still clinging to that brother of yours like he'll be there forever. I'll have my chance my dear just you wait.'

___________

It had been a few weeks since you came back home. Thankfully, you didn't run into Dio much besides when you visited your father, or Jonathan was around to act as your shield. However, to your dismay, your older brother went off to try and find a cure due to your father's worsening condition, leaving you alone and defenseless. "Y/n, my dear, it's getting late. You should go and get some sleep; I'll be fine!" Your father laughed, trying to rid the frown that blemished your features. "But father, how can I sleep?! Your condition is worsening, and your brother has been gone for days without a word! I worry for both of you!" You cry, gripping his hands. Your father smiles before heavily coughing, causing your heart to ache.

"You've always been such a kind and caring girl, Y/n. I know your mother would be so proud to see the pure and elegant girl you've become." His confession shocks you at the mention of your deceased mother. You and Jonathan were half-siblings, neither having met your mothers due to the accident and your mother's illness. You always remembered the staff whispering badly about her because they were so in love with Jonathan's late mother. This left you feeling alone and secluded from everyone until your brother happily reached a handout for you. Since childhood, you made it a point to be a good and obedient daughter and sister to your family, not wanting to cause any problems. Of course, you would lie if you said being a good girl was easy.

"Now, give me your perfect smile before I get some rest!" Your father cheered, snapping you from your thoughts. You let out a small sigh before putting on that bright smile everyone seemed to love so much. With an approving nod, your father bids you goodnight as you silently walk back to your corridors. 'But I don't want to smile right now, father…I want to scream and cry…I want to feel sadness and anger. I want to scream at the heavens for cursing our family with such traffic fates.' You are shocked by the last thought as you quickly shake your head and slap your cheeks as you enter your room. "Don't think like that, Y/n! It's not good to think such things." You scold yourself as you lock the door before changing into one of your nightgowns.

"Oh? Do tell what things our angel might be thinking?" Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach at the sudden voice lurking in the corner of your room. You slowly turn to see Dio perched against your wall, his eyes shining from the moon's light. "D-Dio?! What are you doing in my room?!" You yelled, taking a step back as you glanced towards your door. Dio followed your eyes just as fast, a dark smirk coming to his lips as he let out an amused chuckle, carefully pushing himself away from the wall. "Father has been voicing concerns about you since Jonathan left. So, I thought I would do him a favor and keep you company." He excused himself as he made his way between you and the door. Your eyes narrow with his word choice as you clench your fists at your sides.

"Don't address him like that when we both know you don't see the Joestar home as a family." You declared feeling yourself growing angry at the situation. Dio looks at you with an emotion flashing past his eyes, one you don't recognize due to the room's darkness. He lets out an amused chuckle while running a hand through his hair, his face falling to one of annoyance, eyes darker than usual as he looks down at you, clicking his tongue. "I see that annoying eye of yours is still as sharp as ever, brat." He spat, finally showing his true colors like when he first arrived in your lives. "Though you must admit I've become a great actor." He joked. Before you could react, Dio's form was looming over yours. His eyes narrowed as he roughly took your wrist, holding it up towards his chest as he glared at you.

"Since we're on the topic…why don't you drop that pure angel act of yours?" Dio watched as your usually bright hues darkened all light, leaving them as you looked at him with a frown. "I do not like what you are insinuating Dio. Now, I must ask you to leave my room." You demanded your words cold as ice, holding no warmth for the man before you. Dio felt his chest puff with pride and joy as he got to see this expression for a second time. He remembers first seeing the dark look in your eyes when he stumbled upon you in the library years ago. The way you stared coldly at the books before you, not a single sight of joy to be seen. It excited him knowing that there was a darker side to the Joestars family within the girl whom everyone always spoke so purely of. He wanted to see more of it, more of the girl whose life has been dedicated to portraying a false sense of joy.

"There it is…" Dio whispered, his grip on your wrist tightening as he went and threw you onto the bed, causing a small gasp to leave your lips as you fell onto the soft surface. As you tried to get up, Dio sat on top of you, his legs trapping your smaller form as he gripped your wrists above your head, his face inches from yours as he looked at you with a sadistic grin on his face. The lack of distance allowed you to examine Dio's features closely. You couldn't deny that he was an attractive man and that you had once found yourself crushing on him, but due to his sick personality, you tried pushing the thought deep into the back of your mind.

"Tell me, does being so good to those who hate you get tiresome?" He asked, watching as your eyes widened in surprise. "What? Did you think I wouldn't notice how the staff treated you over the years? How they look at you with detest." Dio mocked his free hand, going to grab your chin, making it so you could not ignore him. You grit your teeth, anger filling your body as he mocked your hard work to be the perfect girl for your family, all the nights you spent wishing to be accepted by everyone. He would welcome you. To him, you were something to treasure and keep close to; he wanted all of it for himself.

"Dio, let me go this instant! I won't let you make a fool of me!" You yelled while trying to escape his grasp. Dio hummed, amused, as he leaned closer to your face, his lips inches away. "You're so cute; begging like anything could get you out of this." he mused before placing his lips roughly against your own. Your eyes went wide, remembering the last time this happened. How aggressive he was with you, the look in his eyes like a predator wanting to claim what's his. You whine into the kiss, your body reacting in a strange way as you feel a wave of heat rush to your skin. Dio hums, pulling away from the kiss as he watches the saliva still connecting you start to thin. "It must be so exhausting…being an angel." He confesses while carefully sliding his thumb across your bruising lips. He watches your face show surprise at his words, internally grinning as he finds your weak spot.

"Tell me…what was it you were thinking earlier, angel? Was it something impure?" He hoped his words were right as he watched your eyes shift away. You said nothing as you tried processing everything at once. Your silence annoyed Dio as he went and slid his tongue down your neck, his ears taking in your surprised gasp as you tried to squirm away, your legs pressing together. "Does the Joestars' pure and innocent child actually have a filthy mind?" He teased as he went and bit down on your soft spot, feeling himself grow excited when a moan slipped past your lips. "N-no! It's not like that! I don't think that way!" You pleaded, the feeling of his lips sucking on your skin, causing your cheeks to heat up as a strange tingling begins in your lower half. "Oh? Then tell me, if not that, then what? What could be plaguing that innocent mind of yours?" He coos his grip on your wrist tightening as his head moves towards your chest.

Your eyes widened as your heart started speeding up when you realized what he was planning. "It was only for a moment! I cursed the heavens, but I was wrong!" You confessed, hoping it would allow you to catch Dio off guard. However, your words caused something to snap inside Dio's mind as he looked down at you surprised, his heart rate rising as he felt his pants start to feel tighter as he took in your words. "Cursing the heavens? Isn't that a grave sin with you people who worship that God of yours?" He asks, unable to stop the growing smirk, his eyes glossing over with lust as he takes in how pure you looked trapped under him in that white nightgown that fit you perfectly. Your cheeks are deep red due to the unknown feelings starting up within.

"Tell me, angel…has a man ever touched you?" His question causes you to fume with embarrassment as you look away from him, not wanting to answer such a vulgar question. "H-How could you say such filthy things?!" You cried your mind spinning from the situation. Dio's eyes narrowed as he licked his lips, his hand releasing your wrists, catching you by surprise as you looked up at him with confusion. "So, this body is still pure?" He asks with a voice filled with amusement as he trails his hands from your shoulders down to your breasts, roughly massaging them over your precious nightgown. Your eyes widen as you quickly slap a hand over your mouth, muffling the moans that escape from the unknown feeling.

"Is it good when I touch you here? Or maybe here?" he muses, going and grinding against you, the bulge in his pants becoming evident as he finds himself tainting the pure body of Jonathan's most precious treasure. You bite your lip, trying to hold back the sinful sounds that tug at your throat. "N-no, stop it…AH!" Your back arches when Dio suddenly pulls the nightgown down, exposing your breasts to the cool air sending a chill throughout your body. Dio chuckles as he taunts you, clicking his tongue as he shakes his head. "This isn't good…for such a pure body; it sure is acting filthy to my touch." He sighed as he took the perked buds between his thumbs and index fingers, making sure to pinch and pull at them, watching as your body reacted innocently to his actions. "I-I's not my fault!" You tried to defend yourself, though you couldn't help but rub your legs together at his words. 'What's happening? Why am I getting so worked up?' You thought, not understanding your body at all.

"This body is untrained…safe from the fires of Satan." Dio starts before repositioning himself so that he can slide his hand under your nightgown, his fingers ghosting over the dampening fabric as he latches onto one of the perked buds, making sure to sink his teeth into the soft flesh, listening as you let out a loud cry your hands going to grip at his blonde strands. "S-stop! This is wrong!" You pleaded, though your mind couldn't help but betray you as multiple lewd thoughts started plaguing your mind, causing the spot between your thighs to spread against the thin fabric. Dio ignored you as his fingers went and started poking at your panties, chuckling when your thighs squeezed his hand.

"Careful, Y/n," Dio started as he pulled away from the mound of flesh with a pop, his tongue lapping at the hard bud with a dark smirk on his face as he looked up to see your lustful expression. He feels his bulge twitch as he presses his fingers past your panties, sliding them up and down your wet folds. "If you're too loud, everyone will know the sinful act you're committing. Do you want your father to know his angel is falling?" Dio laughed, finding his actions to be a rush as one finger pressed down on your clit, causing your eyes to roll back as you covered your lips with both hands, body shaking. Dio watches his sadistic grin, reaching his eyes that are wide with amusement as he lets out another booming laugh.

"Did you just cum Y/n? What a fucking slut." He growled as he twirled a finger around your freshly dripping hole, refusing to take his eyes away from yours as he watched you come down from your high. "I want you to listen to this, Y/n. Listen to how sinful your pussy is for me right now." He mumbled before slipping a digit inside. You whine in discomfort at the sudden intrusion, tears pricking your eyes from the feeling of Dio's thick finger roughly thrusting in and out of you. "Heh, does it hurt angel? Does having my finger inside this once untouched pussy feel strange?" His words are cruel as he watches your body, once pure and untouched, slowly form into an obedient toy just for him. "D-Dio…" Your words cut off as he slaps a hand over your face, eyes narrowed as he growls against your ear, his finger moving faster as you moan into his palm. "Shut up and listen, angel." He growls before adding another finger to stretch your tight walls further. "Do you hear that Y/n?" He questions while biting your earlobe, giving it a slight pull. You listen, your juices echoing off the walls of the dark room, filling your ears as Dio continues to invade you with his fingers.

"Listen to your sin, darling~" He sings, going to curl the tips of his fingers, causing a deep rumble in your throat as you look up at him, eyes no longer holding any innocent emotions as you allow your mind to be consumed by lust. You can't think straight as you go and stick your tongue out against his palm, the wet muscle licking against his rough skin, causing Dio to lick his lips as a low growl escapes his throat. "Filthy fucking girl. You're nothing but a sinful whore." He spat, looking down at you with disgust, but really, it drove him crazy. He was ruining you, the girl who always held such a beautiful smile, eyes shining so bright with love and joy now dimmed and corrupted, all thanks to him. No one else could ruin you like he was going to. He feels your walls spasm against his fingers, indicating you have orgasmed for the second time.

Dio pulls his fingers out, putting them inches from your face as he wiggles them around, allowing you to see how your juices coated them. "Look at them, Y/n. Your slutty juices are everywhere." He laughs before pulling down your panties as he goes and removes his clothing. You don't say anything as you lay there eyes half-lidded as you try to recover from all the pleasure flooding your mind. Dio notices your dazed-out expression, causing him to frown as he goes and smacks your cheek, causing your gaze to fall on him. "Don't you dare clock out on me now, you brat." He growls, going and spreading your legs wide enough for him to take in just how wet your pussy was. "Fuck so filthy, Y/n." He growls while giving his cock a few pumps, precum leaking from the slit.

You stare at him, trying to process what his next move is going to be. Dio smirked as he went and slid the tip between your folds, his cock becoming drenched from your messy pussy. It soon clicks what he plans on doing, and you look at him, panic written across your face. "N-No! You can't!" You cry, trying to move away from his giant figure. Dio scoffs as he roughly grabs you by the hips, pulling you back into place as his tip pokes at your entrance. He cups your cheek, eyes filled with a dark desire as he takes in your fearful expression, the tears in your eyes making him want to fuck you until they can't produce anymore. "Look at me, Y/n." He demands, watching as you obediently do as told, making him relish in his control over your once pure mind, now filled with corrupt thoughts of him. All him.

"I want to see you fall to hell with me, angel." His words were severe, eyes not leaving yours. You felt your chest tighten as his words caused your pussy to twitch. "Fall…to hell?" You whispered as if in a trance. Dio smirks, leaning his body over yours as he kisses the tears from your face. "Yes, my dear~ The two of us will be bound together for all eternity, our bodies burning from the flames of our sins~" He growled, pressing his lips to yours in a possessive and needy kiss. You whimper slowly opening your mouth to allow his tongue entry as he hungrily searched every corner of your mouth. "So, fall with me, angel…fall from the heavenly pedestal your family has placed you on and be damned to hell with just me by your side." He moaned into the kiss before pressing his cock into your virgin pussy.

Your eyes bulge from the intense pain as you grip Dio's biceps, your nails digging into his skin, drawing small amounts of blood, tears running down your cheeks as you cry into the kiss. Dio growls, eyes squeezing shut from how tight you were, his dick throbbing at the fact he was taking your virginity from you. Your pure body now destroyed by his corrupt one. He relishes that you will never be able to join your loved ones in heaven. You were all his forever. "I-it hurts!" You cry when he pulls away from the kiss. Your lips were bruised and swollen, eyes puffy and filled with tears as your cheeks flushed red and your body trembled. You were ruined, absolutely destroyed, and he loved it. "That's right, angel…feel all that pain, isn't it freeing?" Dio purred before moving his hips. You whine from the pain, wanting it to go away as you reach a handout towards him.

Dio snatched your hand, bringing it to his face as he inhaled your scent before locking eyes with you as he sunk his teeth into your flesh, watching you flinch as his thrusts became more aggressive. "Mmh~ Dio, your cock hurts! Please take it out!" You whine, though it falters when the pain turns into pleasure. "It's dirty! So dirty!" You cry, your legs wrapping around his waist and pushing him closer to you, causing his cock to go even deeper inside your impure pussy. You moan tossing your head back, mouth hanging open as drool falls from your chin. Dio watches you with an evil grin as he roughly grabs your hips, sure to leave bruises later. "That's right, angel fall with me! Join me in a world full of sin where just the two of us can rule!" He moans out, loving that he was destroying you. The girl he's had eyes on for seven years was not being roughly fucked underneath him.

You moan too fucked out to care who heard you anymore as you think of what awaits you once you are to leave this world. "I'm going to burn in hell, Dio~ my pussy is being fucked by a man I'm not married to!" You moaned out, unable to hold back your thoughts as a smile formed on your face from the idea of burning in the hot flames. Dio curses as his gaze travels down to where his cock disappeared inside you, his eyes narrowing when he sees the blood mixed with your juices leaking from his shaft down onto your once clean sheets. "He leans forwards, capturing one of your hands in his as he pounds into your abused pussy deep pants, leaving his lips as he takes you all in with his eyes. "Fall with me, angel…do you like that? The thought of being burned by hell's flames? Your pussy is sucking my dick so good, darling~" Dio coos as he kisses your neck, leaving marks wherever he can.

Your body shutters at the thought eyes in the back of your head, a giant smile on your face as you imagine your body being burned for the pleasure you were receiving in this life. Dio looks down at you, his heart racing about how you reacted to his words and actions. He loved that you were finally showing your true self to the you who worked so hard to be so suitable for everyone. Now you were good for just him. "Think about it, Y/n. You no longer have to please those worthless staff who treated you like the devil…because now you're my beautiful fallen angel…my sinful darling~" Dio growled, his cock twitching as he felt himself reaching his limit. You say nothing as you cry and moan, your stomach tightening for the third time.

'That's right… I'm no longer their angel…I can finally be free from this suffocating cage.' You thought tears formed in your eyes as they slid down the damn skin onto your messy sheets. "You'll be so beautiful screaming in agony~" Dio confesses the thought causing him to curse as his cock swelled inside you, his throat tightening as a vein popped out. "Fuck… I'm going to cum inside your filthy pussy Y/n!" He laughed, his thrusts becoming sloppy. You whined as he went and tossed your legs over his shoulders, the new position causing him to press against your womb. Your eyes went wide as you felt something inside you snap your juices spraying all over Dio's cock as a puddle stained the sheets. Your vision went white, no sound leaving your lips as your body violently shook.

Dio laughs like crazy after witnessing you squirt all over him, his voice echoing throughout the room. "Hahaha! Sorry JoJo! Looks like I've turned your precious little sister into such a sinful devil fit just for my cock~" He laughs manically before gripping your face with one hand as he looks at you with that sadistic look back on his face. He feels himself reach his limit as he cums deep inside your pussy, his cum filling you up.

"Look at me Y/n. I want to see you fall to hell with me darling~"

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #jjba x reader #jjba x y/n #jjba x female reader #dio brando #jjba dio #fanfic #fanfiction #fem reader #x reader #smut #jjba smut #dio brando x reader #dio brando x y/n #dio brando smut #kinktober 2023

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generalhumancloudalmond · 1 year

Text

Wonderful child

Platonic!Yandere!Muzan x Child!Fem! Reader

You were a wonderful child not only in the opinion of your own mother, but also in the opinion of your new father, whom you and your sister unconditionally accepted. But to tell the truth, first time your new father bothered you. He may not have done anything wrong, but you were a child with an incredibly developed sense of empathy and you felt every change in his mood better than your mother and sister.

That's probably why Muzan thought you were a wonderful child. You never bothered him and when it was necessary, you left and even more, you took your younger sister away when he was not in the best mood, which made it easier him to stay here.

That night, you saw how annoyed he was after meeting with a strange boy, so when you and your mom and sister said goodbye to him, he was leaving for some business meeting. You, unlike your sister and mom, didn't hug or kiss him, just wished him to come back soon and waved.

"Y/n, I don't think you get along very well with Muzan."

You looked surprised at your mom, who was talking to you.

"You hardly talk to him, I understand that you miss your real father, but..."

"No, I get along well with Muzan. He doesn't even mind anymore if I'm in the same room with him when he's busy."

"Was he against being in the same room with you? I mean, you're a calm girl and don't bother..."

"He didn't kick me out, it's just that my presence, at first, often annoyed him, and now he doesn't mind."

You smiled at your mom, calming her nerves, and your little sister repeated after you, your mom giggled. You really were a wonderful child.

However, a good streak cannot last forever and one day it really ended. Now you were lying in bed in terrible suffering. Muzan still hasn't returned, but his money was enough to delay the progress of your illness. The problem was that neither you not your mom had the strength. You couldn't fight with illness anymore, and your mom couldn't watching you cry and moan in pain, couldn't watching your medical analysis get worse and worse every day. Your mother couldn't contact her husband, and therefore she had to make this important decision on her own.

Muzan came back at night and he was furious when he heard that he had an hour to say goodbye to you when your heart stopped completely. Not caring about the force, he pushed your mother away.

Why can't this useless woman even take care of her own child?!

When he entered your room, he discovered your unconscious figure. You were lying on the bed and looked very much like a dead, but the demon still heard your weak heart. With his claw, he sharply scratched your cheek, giving a small amount of his blood.

At that moment, your sweet dream ended, you thought that the disease was terribly painful, but it was worse, much worse. Your whole body was bending in the opposite direction, you even heard the crunch of your own bones, but all this faded against the background of your cheek, it burned with hellish pain, and the skin near the wound seemed to melt.

Your little sister ran into your room after hearing the screams. And froze in horror. Muzan sat on your bed and held you in his arms while you squirmed and screamed. The father was calm, while you beat him with your head in agony, while he held your legs and arms. The girl immediately covered her eyes with her hands and wanted to run away, but the demon stopped her.

"Come here. Don't you want to help your sister?"

She wanted to help you, she has to help you, so she listens him and approaches you. You began to shake less, but blood poured out of your mouth.

"Dad, what can I..."

Abruptly Muzan grabs her by the head and begins to squeeze.

"Y/n will be very hungry when she becomes a demon and you will help her with that."

#reader #yandere #platonic #platonic yandere #kimetsu no yaiba #platonic kimetsu no yaiba #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere muzan kibutsuji #platonic muzan #platonic yandere muzan #child reader

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rubysunnday · 2 years

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I'll look after you (but I won't stop complaining about it)

requested by anon: Hi I love your Bridgerton sister fics! They got me to finally watch the show. Can I request an Anthony x Bridgerton!reader fic where it’s “4 times Anthony protects the reader and 1 time she protects him”?

requested by anon: Okay but, a twist to the story and instead of the typicall bridgerton!sister being stung by the bee, what if it’s Anthony, and everyone worries about him because of what happened to their father, and it’s specially the youngest bridgerton!sister who has a reaction like him in the show out of fear of losing her brother/father figure?

requested by anon: anthony x bridgerton sis where reader is around 15 and she has a really big fight with colin or eloise and she goes on a walk to calm herself down, falls down a hill and anthony finds her after looking for her for a while? but like fluffy pls

summary: four times Anthony protected his sister and the one time she protected him (albeit it was from the ton)

After Edmund Bridgerton, the 8th Viscount Bridgerton, died, his son, Anthony, made a promise. He sat at his father's death bed, staring down at the cold corpse that had once been his beloved father, and promised to look after his siblings - all eight of them - and to try, in any way possible, to guide them as an elder brother and as a father figure.

Whilst his siblings did not make this promise an easy one to keep Anthony kept trying. But right now, at this exact moment in time, Anthony wanted to throttle his sisters.

He vaguely wondered if anyone would find their bodies at the bottom of the lake, only to be yanked out of the thought by a pillow smacking him in the chest, the intended target oblivious as she glared at her twin.

"What is so wrong with wanting marriage?" Y/N yelled, throwing her hands up at her sister.

"It shackles you for life!" Eloise yelled back. "It silences you and your dreams."

"Oh, not this conversation again," Y/N groaned. "El, not everyone wants the same things as you. Is it so wrong for me to want to be married and happy? There are plenty of things you can still do when married."

"Not if you marry some old man who treats his women like objects!"

"Nope, absolutely not," Y/N said, getting up from the sofa, throwing the cushion she'd been hugging at Eloise, "I am not having this conversation again. Marry, do not marry, I do not care. But I am not going to sit here and listen to you call me an unintelligent woman simply because I dream of being married one day."

The door to the drawing room slammed shut. Eloise huffed, sitting back down on the sofa, crossing her arms.

Anthony pulled back a page of his newspaper, eyeing Eloise. "Is it so wrong for your sister to want marriage?"

"She does not understand what it can do to a woman, brother," Eloise replied. "The consequences, the silencing..."

"It can be a positive thing, El -"

"I have heard far too many horror stories of women being treated like cattle to view it as a positive thing. We all saw what nearly happened to Daphne when she came out."

"That was entirely my own doing -"

"This is what I mean!" Eloise exclaimed, sitting forward. "We do not get to choose our husbands. Our husbands choose us or our fathers and brothers choose them for us. Not once does a woman get a say in who she marries."

Anthony exhaled through his nose, seeing that he clearly wasn't going to get anywhere with Eloise. He folded his newspaper shut, setting it down on the coffee table beside him.

"I'm going to go check on Y/N," he muttered, standing up from the sofa.

Whilst Anthony knew Y/N and Eloise were devoted to one another, he also knew that when they argued, it got mean, very quickly. The marriage argument had been one they'd had many times before and it never ended well.

Eloise could never quite seem to understand why any woman would want to willingly be married. Y/N never quite understood why Eloise was so opposed to even the idea of marriage. What was so wrong with wanting a future for herself where she was ostracized to the edge of society?

It took him fifteen minutes and five servants to work out where Y/N had gone. As much as he adored Aubery Hall, he did curse its extensive grounds, especially when his siblings ran off.

Another ten minutes later and Anthony was finally down in the woods of the grounds, walking through patches of bluebells and snowdrops, peering behind trees and bushes.

He looked behind a fairly large oak tree and stopped, casting his eyes down. Y/N looked back up at him, her face blotchy from her tears.

She didn't say anything, turning her head away and looking straight ahead at where the river cut through their lands.

Anthony crossed his arms, leaning against the tree. "This is an argument you have had before. We all know how it goes."

"I know. Does not stop it from upsetting me or being infuriating."

"It reminds me of the argument I so often have with Colin about travelling," Anthony replied. "If he had it his way, he would be gallivanting around every corner of this world, spending as much money as he likes. I am the one who has to bring him back down and tell him that whilst we have money, we do not have enough money for that."

Y/N gave him a small smile. "It is utterly exhausting. I have tried to explain to her multiple times that marriage can be a good thing. If you find the right person."

"I can attest to that."

"Five words I never thought you would say, brother," Y/N said, looking up at him.

"This argument is not worth your tears, Y/N."

"Oh, I am aware, I was not crying about that." She looked a little sheepishly at Anthony's raised eyebrow. "I was so angry I did not look where I was going and I twisted my ankle, falling down a rabbit burrow."

Anthony stared at her for a moment. Then, he burst out laughing, leaning back, putting a hand on his chest.

"Yes, yes, laugh away," Y/N muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"No! I fell down a rabbit burrow!"

Anthony snorted. Y/N reached over and pushed her brother's leg, knocking him off balance. He stumbled to the side, catching himself.

"Are you going to just stand there and laugh or will you help me up and back to the house?"

"Alright, come on then."

Anthony held his hands out to Y/N and she placed her hands in his, letting him help her up to her feet, hopping awkwardly. She put her foot down and winced, pain shooting up from her ankle.

Without uttering a word, Anthony turned around. Y/N, snorted but climbed onto his back, using her good foot to propel herself up.

"I feel like I'm ten again," Y/N said as Anthony gripped her legs.

"I don't," he grunted. "When did you get so heavy?"

"Don't be rude. Come along then," she said, nudging him with her foot.

Anthony rolled his eyes. "If I fall down a rabbit burrow, it'll be your fault."

"Bloody hell."

Daphne whacked her sister with her blue mallet. "Language."

Y/N shot her a withering look. "It's just family, we are quite safe." She tilted her head up, looking at the tree. "How on earth are we to get that out?"

It was a well-known fact that Y/N Bridgerton did not know what gently meant. Especially when it came to pall mall. One well-aimed hit later, her purple ball was stuck up in the tree, nestled amongst the branches.

"We'll have to climb."

"No, Y/N, do not -"

Daphne trailed off as Y/N dropped her mallet and put her booted foot on a stump next to the tree. She pushed herself up, pulling her dress up over her knee and climbing up onto the lowest branch.

She could see the purple ball wedged between the fork of two branches. If she climbed up another branch and crawled forward, she could definitely grab it.

The panting of breaths came from below as Colin, Benedict and Anthony rushed up to Daphne, all looking up at the tree.

"Is she climbing the tree?!" Colin exclaimed, both delighted and slightly concerned.

"Of course she is!" Anthony snapped. "Y/N, get down at once!"

"Let one of the boys get it, Y/N," Daphne added.

"I'm up here now!" Y/N yelled down, climbing onto the second branch. "I might as well get it!"

Y/N crawled forward again, the leaves shaking at the sudden movement.

"Someone should get her down," Benedict muttered, following Y/N's movements. "Knowing our dear sister, she will fall down. She's not exactly gentle."

"Y/N!" Anthony yelled, moving to the bottom of the tree trunk. "Mother will kill me if you fall!"

"I've almost got it!"

Y/N leant forward, her fingers brushing against the purple ball. Instead of the ball falling into her grip, she lost her balance entirely and teetered forward and off the branch.

Her arms flailed as she struggled to find anything to grip on, her sibling's yells of panic from below silencing her own yelp of surprise.

Y/N was falling until she wasn't. Arms wrapped around her just before she hit the ground, her body smacking into Anthony's. The force knocked them both to the floor, Anthony taking down Benedict at the same time.

The three siblings hit the ground, hard. Anthony's head smacked against Benedict's chest as Y/N knocked her own head into her older brother's chin.

"Oh, my go - are you three ok?" Daphne exclaimed, crouching down beside Y/N and helping her sit up, a concerned hand on her back.

Y/N rolled off her elder brother and to the side, coughing slightly, winded from her collision with her brother.

"Anthony get off me," Benedict grunted, pushing his brother off him.

Anthony stumbled to his feet, swaying just a bit. "I'm fine," he muttered, dusting his jacket down. "Just another victim of Y/N Bridgerton."

Something landed on top of Anthony's head with a fairly loud thud. It rolled off him and bounced onto the floor, rolling down to Y/N's feet.

"Oh!" She said, bending down and picking it up. "I did get my ball after all!."

Y/N looked behind her frantically, desperately trying to find an escape as Cressida Cowper walked towards her, her friends walking alongside her.

She was not having a good day and she did not need Cressida Cowper to make it any worse.

"Y/N!"

Bloody hell. "Cressida," Y/N said, curtseying politely.

"You look beautiful. As ever," Cressida added snidely. "Anyone asked you for a dance yet?"

Y/N gritted her teeth. "No, not yet."

"Oh, shame. Mr Patrick, Sir Carter and Mr Norris have all written their names in my dance card."

"Well, I hope you enjoy all your dances."

"Hmm, I suppose I will."

Cressida brushed past Y/N, tipping her glass of lemonade onto her dress and down her chest. Y/N gasped, the cold liquid startling her. Cressida sniggered and sauntered off to another corner of the ballroom.

Y/N inhaled shakily, closing her eyes. She turned her back to the rest of the room, feeling her throat closing as the tears threatened to fall all over again.

A jacket sleeve brushed against her arm and Y/N knew instantly it was Anthony. He shielded her from the rest of the room as he unbuttoned his jacket and put it around her shoulders, handing her his handkerchief.

"Come on," he said quietly, taking her hand and pulling her along with him.

Anthony walked out into the corridor outside the ballroom and then into another empty room. He shut the door behind them and Y/N sat down heavily on the sofas, hanging her head low.

"I have half a mind to go yell at Miss Cowper," Anthony muttered, walking over to her.

"Not that it would solve anything," Y/N replied, straightening up. She dabbed under her eyes with her fingers, shaking her head. "Thank you."

"Whatever for?"

"Getting me out of there before I made a scene."

Anthony smiled softly. "If anyone made a scene, it was Cressida." He sat down next to her on the sofa. "We do not have to go back. We can leave."

Y/N shook her head, pulling Anthony's jacket tighter around her shoulders. "No. I do not want her to win. Give me five minutes and I'll be fine."

"Very well, then."

Y/N dropped her head to Anthony's shoulder, closing her eyes momentarily. "Thank you, brother."

Anthony kissed her forehead, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, squeezing tightly. "Anytime."

The rain lashed against the windows. A loud boom of thunder sounded from directly overhead and Y/N flinched, digging her nails into the leather of the chair she was sat in.

She didn't know what it was about storms that frightened her so much - whether it was the loud noises, the bright flashes of lighting, the sound of trees being felled - but this was the worst one they had had in years.

Anthony glanced up at his sister, pausing his writing. "Alright?"

Y/N nodded tightly, clutching her book in one hand. "Fine."

Another boom of thunder and she closed her eyes, jumping in her seat. Anthony set his pen down and pushed his chair back, walking over to his sister. He snatched up her book, putting his thumb on the page she was on, and closing it to look at the cover.

Pride and Prejudice was written on the front, each letter covered in gold foil. "Would you like me to read to you?"

"If it means distracting me from this god-awful storm, yes."

Anthony smiled, sitting down in the chair opposite his sister. He opened the book again and found the start of the new chapter. "Colonel Fitzwilliam's were very much admired at the Parsonage, and the ladies all felt that he must add considerably to the pleasure of their engagements at Rosings."

Y/N leant back in her chair, closing her eyes. Anthony's voice was calm and didn't flinch once, even when lighting struck almost outside his study window. His mere presence had calmed her down from the panic building inside her.

As Anthony reached the end of the chapter, he glanced over at his sister. He smiled softly upon seeing that she was fast asleep, her head drooping to one side. He concluded the chapter, gently tucking a piece of paper in between the pages and closing the book.

It had been many years since he'd last carried anyone other than Hyacinth and Gregory to bed. Even then, they were beginning to get a bit too big and a bit too old.

Anthony gently lifted Y/N up into his arms and crept through the corridors of Bridgerton House. He laid her down on her bed and pulled back the blankets and duvet, placing them on top of her, smoothing the edge down.

"Night, Y/N," he whispered, standing in the doorway, a soft smile on his face.

Anthony did not regret marrying Kate Bridgerton neé Sharma one bit.

He just regretted his mother's penchant for big ball's and extravagant celebrations. Anthony had hardly had time to take in his new wife and admire her as viscountess - it felt as if the entire ton had been invited to the ball.

Almost an hour later, Anthony finally found his wife again, walking up to her and taking her hand in his, squeezing it tightly.

"I missed you," he murmured, leaning into her neck and sniffing.

Kate shoved him gently. "Anthony, behave."

"Apologies."

"Your mother seems very determined to introduce me to every member of the ton tonight."

"Again, apologies."

Kate chuckled, smiling widely. "I forgive you, my lord."

The string quartet began readying themselves for another dance, couples moving into position on the floor with practised ease. Anthony held his hand out to his wife, smiling.

"Care for a dance, Viscountess Bridgerton?"

"I would adore one, Viscount Bridgerton."

They danced three times in a row. Which was preposterous for any courting couple but unheard of for a married couple. But Anthony and Kate were so in love with one another, that no one seemed to really mind.

In fact, both were so enamoured with one another, that they did not seem to realise the line of people wanting to talk to them slowly dwindling down to nothing.

"Is it me," Kate said quietly, "or has no one been over to talk at us for a while?"

Anthony sipped on his lemonade and looked around, raising his eyebrows. "No, I do believe you are correct in that statement."

It was suspicious, Anthony thought, that they had been left alone for as long as they had. His eyes scanned the ballroom - he spotted Daphne and Simon, both pretending to look interested in a conversation with the Cowpers, and suddenly realised.

"I do believe my siblings are deflecting anyone that comes our way," Anthony murmured to his wife.

"Whatever do you mean?"

He pointed over to Daphne and Simon. Then he guided Kate's eyes to the left, where Colin and Eloise were listening to Lady Trowbridge.

"Oh," Kate said, understanding. She looked around the room, her eyes latching on to one Bridgerton in particular.

Y/N stood with Mr Dorset, pretending to be engrossed in Lord Lumley's conversation. She was surrounded by numerous other gentlemen, all waiting for her attention.

"Oh, Lord Bridgerton!" Portia Featherington crowed.

"I knew it couldn't last," Anthony muttered, turning his back.

"Lady Featherington!" Y/N exclaimed, pulling Mr Dorset with her as they walked over to the lady. "I have been meaning to ask you all night about your stunning dress."

"Oh, really? It's new in from Paris -"

And just like that, Portia Featherington forget entirely about the newlywed couple she'd been marching towards.

Kate caught Y/N's eye as she walked back to the wall. She mouthed a thank you to the younger girl, smiling when Y/N winked back at her, blowing her sister-in-law a kiss.

"I do believe, we have Y/N to thank for a bit of peace," Kate said, leaning into her husband. "She seems to have gathered an army to distract the ton."

Anthony looked over at her, a fond smile taking over his face. "Of course she did," he muttered. "Well, I suppose, annoyingly, I'm in her debt now."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Kate asked, letting Anthony wrap his arms around her waist, resting his head on her shoulder.

"No," He replied, sniffing Kate's scent and pressing a kiss to her bare skin, "no, it is not."

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