#also im almost at 500 followers
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This blog turned one!
This past week this blog turned one year old and I thought it would be a nice opportunity to say thank you to everyone who follows the blog, and everyone who sends recs and of course thank you to everyone who writes the amazing fics we get to read about our silly boys.
When I had the idea to make this blog I didn't expect it to do as well as it has been doing, but I love that it did. I have no idea if it's actually making a difference in the fics, but I hope you guys have gotten new material to read and that you're showing love to the amazing writers in the fandom!
Remember that both reading and writing fic is supposed to be a fun activity and the best way to share that fun is leaving some kudos or comments on the fics, and sharing them with your friends. Fandom is a community and I hope from the bottom of my heart that you guys are having a good time in the buddie fandom <33
Love, Rae
#rae rambles on the side blog#im being emotional tonigght#anyway thank you to everyone who supports this blog#also can u guys believe we're almost at 500 followers? insanity
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A long, long time ago in a bygone era called the 80s, Sal's parents were small-time musicians. Now you can have their music in your sim's home with these retro albums!
You need the mesh from here for these to show up.
Search for "citylighten" in Build/Buy and they should be the first thing to pop up, they come in two forms - stacked and piled. Also shoutout to @xldkx for the record accessory I recolored but ya’ll don’t get that. 💅🏾
Download from Patreon (ALWAYS FREE)
#my cc#sims 4 cc#dear diary extras#sims 4#also ive bypassed 300 followers. im almost at 500 followers SOOOO#consider this a gift
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Incredibly and unfathomably emo about Maria and Adeline lately so idk what to do about that (take a wild guess as to what in fact I will do about that.)
#sin speaking#(also unbearably emo about ruza and arianna again bc i returned to drawing altar + made them a playlist bc im gay)#(emo bout all my tragic lesbians tbh but at least in yharnam sunrise ruzianna have a happy ending i.e copium by Me for Me)#(hormonal and upset about the gays as usual help. dont. i live for the drama.)#(are u noticing a trend about me being emo about a hunter and their blood saint at all lmao)#(have yall read the lokeysouls lore bits about arianna btw bc i havent been sane since 8(......)#(guess ill die then!)#(by which i mean download 500 brushes from the csp asset store and draw my feelings)#(we are almost at 300 followers tho what thats crazy bro seems five minutes since were celebrating 200 8') should i do smth....)#(ive been learning how to stream tho....should we do like a bb stream if i can figure that out lmao)
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god i just wanna draw i wanna post i wanna meme WAAAAAAHHHHHH
#demon slayer sunday totk and im still not even over my saiki k era WAAAAAAH#when I get outta these responsibilties i am going to MEME#also almost to 500 followers...Im thinking about opening doodle requests when i get there so...YEAH!!!!
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SEVENTY TWO WITH IWA IM BEGGING ON MY HANDS AND KNEES FOR IT ALSO HAPPY 500 YIPEEE -(🗣️Anon)
the way i was praying to fucking god that someone would request this exactly thank u so much
500 followers special: #72: “I will knock you on your ass if you even think about it.”
iwaizumi x gn reader, established relationship, use of 'baby' as a pet name, drinking & smoking, cursing, lame men, the threat of violence, not proofread
written content masterlist
There are three key mistakes that they made.
It's the same three mistakes they make every time they go out drinking, always in the same order.
First, they always order one too many rounds of shots. Whenever they're drunk enough to feel giddy and sober enough to stand upright, they always push their luck with one round that leads to another, and that leads to them crawling out of the bar when no one is looking to make their second mistake.
When there is a drag in their step and a slur in their speech, they find the nearest, painfully bright, twenty-four-hour convenience store, and they buy a fresh new pack of shiny cigarettes, and a sleek new lighter.
Which, in turn, almost always leads to their third mistake: getting lost.
They don't have the best sense of direction with a clear head. When their eyesight is blurred and their head is spinning, there is no chance of them stepping foot in the right direction. For a moment after they step out of the shop, they spin in one direction, and then another, trying to remember which one they came from.
It takes them all of one minute before they admit to hopelessness, collapsing to sit on the edge of the sidewalk, too drunk to care about the cleanliness of it.
The brightness of their phone makes them flinch, and hold the phone away from their face, trying to shield their eyes from it. "Fucking shit, Siri, for the love of god, please call Hajime."
They're a bit slow to process that the phone obeys them. They're still trying to figure out how the fuck you put the goddamn phone on speaker when he answers. Faintly, they can hear is phone on the other line. They give up, and slide their phone against their ear. "Haji," they say, drunk and whiny and frustrated, "I'm fucking lost."
He makes a noise on the other line of the phone that seems like it's a cross between reluctant amusement and frustration. "Where are you right now?"
"I don't know, I just said I'm lost," they reply, looking around their surroundings and trying to spot something that seems familiar. They twist their head back to see the shop they just bought the cigarettes from, and then perk up at the reminder that they have cigarettes in their pocket now. "I just bought some cigs at this random ass store and I don't know where the bar is or if my friends are still there."
Iwaizumi groans. "Fucking of course. Alright, listen, just stay there. I have your location on and I'll come find you."
A pout forms on their lips. "Are you mad at me?"
There's a bit of shuffling on the other end. "No, baby, I'm not mad at you. You're just kind of a dumbass sometimes."
They can't argue, so they laugh, holdinng the phone between their shoulder and their ear, as their hands tear into the packet of cigarettes. "How far away are you?" they question.
"About ten minutes," he says, voice sounding a bit further away now. "Hang up and save your battery. Call me back if anything happens and stay put."
"'Kay," they agree, words now muffled by the cigarette between their teeth. "Love you."
They wait until Iwaizumi responds, "Love you," before they're pocketing their phone once more, following his instructions to save the battery. And they wait.
It sucks. Sitting there on the sidewalk, the alcohol making them feel sloppy and messy, like their head is not on right. There's too many people on the street tonight, too. Crowds of people walk behind them, some stumbling into the same store as them for drunken snacks and hefty bottles of water. They try to people watch to pass the time, but it makes their head hurt to lift it up.
Their elbows are on their knees, and their eyes buried into the palms of their hands, lit cigarette loosely dangling from their fingers, waiting for the buzz of their phone or the sound of Iwaizumi's voice, when there's a warmth beside them.
It takes them a second to process the thigh being pressed against theirs from someone sitting too close. They know at once it's not Iwaizumi. The cologne is too strong and it makes them feel a bout of nausea.
They reluctantly lift their head to see the grinning, unfamiliar face of a man that looks just a touch less drunk than they feel. "You look way too drunk to be sitting here alone," he says in a way that seems more amused than concerned. They try to scoot away from him without him noticing. "Need help getting home?"
"No," they reply, putting all of their effort into making their voice sound clear and even. They inhale a puff of smoke and blow it out towards his face.
The stranger does not react to it, he just keeps grinning down at them. "What's your name?" he questions, unrelenting.
They just blink back at him, unwilling to provide even that.
And even then, he is still undeterred. "Okay, well, whatever your name is, I have a really good idea here. I have an Uber on the way, and you can just hop in there with me, and then come back to my place. How does that sound?"
"Fucking stupid," is their natural response. And the second it comes out of their mouth, they giggle, unable to stop themselves and aware that they are not in the right state of mind for this sort of conversation.
"Oh, come on, don't be like that," he replies, chuckling now too, as if he took their laughter as a good sign. "It'll be fun. I'll even let you sleep in one of my t-shirts."
All they can think of then is Iwaizumi, of stealing his clothes and sleeping in them for hours. The thought puts a smile on their face, and with their blurred vision getting worse, they start to lose sight of exactly where they are.
"Aw, see, look at that smile!" he says, but he feels far away, to them. "Uber's almost here. Want me to help you in?"
"I will knock you on your ass if you even think about."
His voice is clear, strong, and familiar, and it makes them shoot upright, allowing them a momentary moment of sobriety. The cigarette falls from their fingers, forgotten, as they turn to see Iwaizumi approaching, and launch to their feet.
He looks enraged, brow furrowed and a glare fixed harshly on his expression. But it's not anything they haven't seen on Iwaizumi before. It doesn't stop them as they rush towards him, arms flinging over his shoulders. "Haji!" they exclaim, ecstatic at the sight of him. "I missed you."
To his credit, Iwaizumi does take a moment to kiss the top of their head, and his arm does find its place secure around their waist, but his glare does not waiver from the man still seated on the edge of the sidewalk. "Get in your fucking Uber before I break your legs and you need help getting in, dickhead," he snarls.
The words hit their drunken ears, and they lean back from their embrace, trying to catch Iwaizumi's eye. "Are you talking to me right now?"
"No, baby, just hold on a second, alright?" he says to them. "Gotta make sure gentleman of the year here goes home on his own without fucking kidnapping someone else."
"I think you're gentleman of the year," they mumble, still holding onto his neck, and resting their head against his chest.
Iwaizumi's lip twitches, just slightly. And they're sure that there's a conversation that continues from that point, they can vaguely hear words that sound distant to them, and can feel curses rumble in Iwaizumi's chest, but all they can focus on is how nice it's going to be to go home with him. And to drink a glass of cold water. That they are really looking forward to.
Eventually, after what seems like another hour but is just an additional forty-five seconds, Iwaizumi gently pulls them to walk alongside them. Their feet stumble to follow, but it doesn't matter too much, he's holding up most of them, anyways.
"You gotta stop running away from your friends when you go out," he tells them. "I almost had to kill that guy. You'd be so upset if I had to go to jail for murder."
"Oh, is that what happened?" they slur, eyes closed and trusting Iwaizumi with every step they take. "Yeah, that'd be bad. I'd have to do a murder too so we'd be in jail together."
"Not sure it works that way."
"You're not mad at me, right?"
Iwaizumi chuckles. "No, not right now. I'll save the alcohol safety lecture for when you're hungover tomorrow."
"Awesome. So that means you'll carry me home the rest of the way, right?"
Iwaizumi sighs, as if this is some inconvenience for him. But he grins as he hooks his arm under their knees and holds them close to his chest. And they're asleep in his arms before he even clears the block.
an: DO NOT RUN AWAY FROM YOUR FRIENDS WHEN YOU'RE DRUNK. NO MATTER HOW FUN IT MAY SEEM. DO NOT DO IT.
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu#hq x reader#hq x you#hq#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x imagines#haikyuu x gender neutral reader#haikyuu x you#iwaizumi x gender neutral reader#iwaizumi haijime x reader#iwaizumi hajime x reader#iwaizumi x you#iwaizumi fluff#iwaizumi x reader#hq iwaizumi#500 follower special
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Hiiii ccongratulations on 500 followers ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა
here's my dirty shiii request :3
scaramouche(the fatui one) stealing kabukimono's gf/bf/or whatever gender and scara fcking them roughly w/s#x toys and overstimulated and scara purposely made kabukimono jealous and cry himself to sleep >~<
POOR BABY... IM GONNA WRITE THIS TO MAME IT UP TO Y'ALL
you're kabukimono's lovely lover, who seeming was found in the hands of scaramouche now. you never expected him to be on top of you and drilling his cock into your hole.
Light buzzing can be heard too, apparently Scara has purposely shoved a vibrator up your ass. He was fucking you senselessly, calling you dirty and filthy names while his snapped his hips back and forth.
You came to your nth orgasm, your mind hazy with lust. The only think you can think about his how his cock was hitting all of your sweet spots so well, your nails clawing and raking his back while you were moaning and drooling under him.
God, he fucking love how he's the only one who has seen your fucked out state. He almost feels bad for Kabukimono who hasn't seen you in this state before!
Bites and bruises were all over you, he was gripping your hips— his nails digging into it's soft flesh as he pressed into mating press, hitting all of the deepest parts inside of you while cum was seeping out of your holes. Your sweet moans were filling the spacious room, the sound of the bed creaking and flesh slapping can also be heard.
Kabukimono is so worried. Where has his lover gone? He doesn't know where they went and seemingly cries himself to sleep while your back here getting your brains fucked out by scara who was damn fucking you like they was no tomorrow.
#scara x you#scara x reader#genshin imagines#genshin impact x you#smut brainrot#genshin impact scenarios#genshin smut#genshin impact#wanderer x reader#wanderer x you#wanderer smut#Scaramouche smut#scaramouche x you#genshin scaramouche#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche smut#scaramouche#kabukimono#kabukimono x reader
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Hii. So can you write sim for Hoon where like him and reader are ice skating partners and aren’t really the biggest fans of eachother but they end up kissing once or twice but reader tries to go back to how they were before but SH wasn’t having it. IDK💀 Idek if you write this kinda stuff
stfu - park sunghoon x reader (skating au)
a/n: i have never ice skated in a professional way in my life nor done competitive sport anything. SO IM GONNA TRY MY BEST! :3 also! i am totally okay with writing stuff w smooching :) i just wont write smut so you’re all good anon i pinky promise
warnings- annoyances to lovers, bickering, i wouldn’t really call it angst, kissing obviously lolz kinda open ended and i am open minded to doing a pt 2 this time
wc- 400-500
MASTERLIST
park sunghoon was annoying.
and hot, but mainly annoying. when you found out you had to work with him because your managers wanted a collaboration between the both of you, both you and mr. annoyingly hot were not pleased with the information.
obviously you were both in competitive skating and anything and every opportunity was a competition
it was weird though having to work on this competition together as a team.
you sat down on the bench after a somewhat successful practice with him. he really was professional on the rink. you took a swig of water.
“you need to practice landing more. you almost fell, i saw your leg shake.” sunghoon sat next to you.
your eye twitched and you went to stand up with your bag, “you’re not my trainer or manager.”
“yeah but like it or not i’m your partner right now.” sunghoon looked up at you, you looked down at him, “the last thing i want is for you to fuck this up for the both of us. because i know im not going to mess it up.” he stood up and placed his hand on your shoulder, “so please take-“
you slapped it away and kept glaring at him, “i’ll see you tomorrow.”
that’s how your interactions went for almost every practice, he would nitpick you, you’d bite back, he’d be snarky, and you’d both go home.
that was your relationship. until one practice where things got a WHOLE lot more complicated.
you were waiting outside to get picked up after practice, it was a warmer spring day and you were enjoying the balance between the cold of the rink, and the warmer night air.
“do you need a ride?”
you looked over and saw sunghoon, “i have someone picking me up.” your phone buzzed and your ride was apologizing profusely, cancelling on you.
“looks like you don’t anymore. did you annoy them that bad?” sunghoon asked looking over your shoulder.
“fuck off, sunghoon.” you turned your heel preparing to go wait for the bus but he softly grabbed your bag.
“i’ll give you a ride home.” his voice was stern.
“okay why?” you flipped around, you weren’t impressed by this gentlemanly act.
sunghoon looked at you, “it’s nighttime and you’re walking to the sketchy ass bus stop by yourself. let alone riding the bus by yourself. it’s late.”
you looked at him, “okay and you don’t think i could handle myself?”
“walking alone and taking a sketchy bus is dangerous for anyone. plus if someone wanted to kidnap you they’d let you go in 5 minutes tops because you yap too much.” he said simply, turning around to start walking. you followed him angrily.
“i don’t yap! you’re fucking ridiculous! you talk more than i do!”
“no i don’t. you asked for an explanation i gave you one.”
your shoes were loud on the concrete and it made sunghoon laugh slightly.
“you’re so fucking annoying! i can handle myself!” you don’t know why but you were following him to his car, he was right about the bus and you already had bad experiences. but lying was better than admitting he was right.
“mhm.” sunghoon hummed and unlocked his car, walking to the passengers side to presumably open the door for you.
“i can open the door myself! i’m perfectly capable of-“
you were cut off by him pinning you to the car by your waist. your breath hitched.
“perfectly capable of what?” he asked, his eyebrow perked up ever so slightly.
you went to speak but he beat you to it, “i easily just pinned you to the car, and you can’t do anything about it. what makes you think i’d let you walk home or take the bus alone?”
you felt yourself not being able to talk, looking at him with wide eyes, your heartbeat on fast forward.
“like i said a few weeks ago, whether you like it or not, you’re my skating partner right now and i’m not letting you be reckless because you’re too fucking stubborn to think about anyone but your burning hatred for me.” his grip tightened slightly before loosening.
“who said i hated you? and who said i think about you?” your spark of annoyance came back.
he chuckled and looked away, his side profile and laugh making your knees buckle ever so slightly, “no one has to tell me for me to just know y/n.”
sunghoon looked back at you and leaned down to your level, “no one has to tell me for me to know that i drive you fucking crazy on and off the rink.”
your whole face contorted in anger and you placed your hand on his collar before he leaned in more to crash his lips into yours.
all you remember is how your hands felt in his hair and the feeling of his hands sneaking under the bottom of your shirt to softly touch your bare waist.
after that night, right after practice you would already have an uber waiting for you. you wouldn’t run into him. you’d avoid him after work hours. and act professional on the rink.
after the practice the night before the competition you walked to the bathroom. you wanted to take a breather and wash your hands. when you looked up in the mirror you saw sunghoon standing against the stalls.
“what the fuck are you doing in here? this is the girls bathroom!”
“rinks closed. closed practice remember?”
you turned around and leaned on the sink, “so you waited for me in here like a fucking creep?”
“you’ve been avoiding me, why? that’s not very good chemistry for the competition…” he shook his head disapprovingly and walked toward you.
“so you only kissed me to focus on that? work?” you scoffed and looked away, “very typical of you sunghoon.”
he pulled you closer to him just like he did that night, “no. you’re not just some business partner to me. obviously i like you and i refuse to sit back and not let you at least be aware of that.”
“you what…?” you breathed out.
sunghoon chuckled again before leaning down to you, his lips so close to touching yours, “do i need to repeat myself? i like you. cancel your stupid uber and i will give you a ride home.”
he pulled away from you and started walking out of the bathroom, “we’re going out to get food too. hope you like western food.”
“o-okay…” you mumbled touching your lips before he fully walked out.
what the fuck was going on?
#enhypen#kpop#enha#enhypen imagines#enha imagines#enhypen x reader#enhypen scenarios#park sunghoon imagines#enha park sunghoon#enhypen park sunghoon#park sunghoon x reader#park sunghoon#enhypen comfort#enha comfort#park sunghoon comfort#sunghoon fluff#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon imagines#enhypen sunghoon#sunghoon#sunghoon angst#enhypen fluff#enha fluff#enhypen icons#enha angst#enha pics#enha x reader#enha icons#heeseung imagines#jake sim imagines
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im with anon, i'll take 500 words or less! anything you have of nasty shigaraki to spare, i'll gladly take with a smile:) also, kinda unrelated, but maybe not ;) iv'e never seen you do soulmate aus?
BNHA ! IMAGINE
Shigaraki Tomura x darling
I love soulmate aus! But only when I give them my own awful unromantic spin.
TW: soulmate au, yandere, implied noncon/dubcon
I like to think the words written on your arm are “Why aren’t you dead?” and the fear you felt in your heart when you first heard them being spoken – lying naked in the decay of a city Tomura had just leveled with the single touch of his fingertips. Followed shortly by the sound of your voice cracking into a scream and a cry when you cough up those few pitiful words written on his arm – “No, please, no!”
I like to think Tomura hates you for making him go through his entire life, knowing those were the first words his soulmate would ever say to him – and how he’s going to torture you for it by forcing you into doing nightmarish versions of all those romantic clichés soulmates usually do.
You try to run even knowing how silly it was, crawling barefoot over sharp crumbling debris with your heart in your throat. He grabs you with ease and takes you home – each wrist and ankle tied tight to the other, a piece of ripped cloth gagging you, and a sack pulled over your head – your naked skin dusty with ashes of people and buildings laid to waste while he holds you in a bridal carry.
You were thrown on the bed with a startled yelp, bouncing on the springy mattress for a moment before stilling and sinking – swearing that the soft feel of it was moist and clammy to the touch, clinging to your skin while slowly swallowing you -and stuffy as though a million spores had just burst upon your impact, spewing out a thick fermented stench that stuck in your throat like a coat of slime.
You heard a door being locked and a key being hidden before feeling his presence crawl over you again where you lay, tied up and shaking.
Your hood disintegrated a moment later, leaving you to stare up into those beady red eyes.
“Psh-” He scoffed, having cast a glance over your face, from the teary streaks running through the ashy dust on your cheeks to the shifty whimpers leaving your lips. “Who would’ve guessed my soulmate would be a pretty thing like you?”
You swore it sounded less like a compliment and more like a jeer while his dry lips further cracked when stretched over the horrid smile that soon broke across his face – sharp like jagged shards of glass you feared would cut you. You shriveled in sight of it, feeling all types of gross and all types of dread twisting your gut as his hand, pale and dry like the rest of him yet unexpectedly warm, started to touch.
Your eyes swiveled with dread, spinning while eerily watching him and how his own two followed the path of his hand. Beginning at your neck in slow fascinated strokes – all five fingers with crass fissures scratching down your jugular and collarbones, making your breath hitch. Drawing down your body with a deepening sense of ownership.
And all you were left to do was chew the cloth spreading your teeth and lips, wettening it with pitiful whimpers and cries. Hands wringing pointlessly, charred and aching from the strict bonds keeping them locked snug beneath you.
A sudden giggle sprung from him then. A dry type of snicker that came from somewhere raspy deep in his lungs. Almost sounding painful if it weren’t for the glistering gleam of something terribly perverted pooling in his eyes – and the tongue that suddenly swept up your face.
“Fate can be such a sweet bitch, can’t it?”
#yandere shigaraki#yandere my hero academia#yandere boku no hero academia#yandere shigaraki tomura#yandere shiggy#yandere shigaraki x reader#yandere mha#yandere bnha#shigaraki smut#shigaraki thirst#yandere tomura shigaraki#yandere tomura#tomura smut#tomura shigaraki x reader#shigaraki fanfiction#shigaraki x y/n#shigaraki imagine#shigaraki x you#tomura x you
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Im turning my fave Lioden lions into ocs bec I can... here's my main's king <3
Here they are... my beloved purple and pink lion <333
Ive been obsessing over some of my faves from my pride and coming up with fun backstories for them, Willow is the first one who received this treatment... fair since I have spent just soooo much time and beetles on this fawkin cat. I still havent gotten all the markings I want for him oughhhhh T-T
I tried to stay as close as possible to his in game colors and markings though I added a few things, specifically some extra stripes to her face bec it looked boring... maybe I will get him a thrashed face marking .... some day.... its not on the top of the markings I want list....
Anywaysss below is the backstory I came up with for him! I am not at all following what happened in game bec saying "She was bought for 500 SB and I proceeded to replace my old king with them" is boringgggg
Flowering Willow is the 3rd King of the Flowering Pride!
Originally named Chalk, Flowering Willow originated from a much more desolate land, and was born to a pride with a kill or be killed kind of nentality, which Chalk had never bought into. As an adolescent they left to find a better life and pride for themselves. She eventually reached the Flowering Pridelands, an abundant land filled with wild flowering plants and plenty of prey, a place that was almost the complete opposite from his birth home. Chalk was found on the territory by the Flowering Pride's submale (and the king's mate) Birch, who, to Chalk's surprise, happily invited him to stay as long as she needed.
While staying with the pride, Chalk was shaken by the hospitality and kindness of the majority of the Pride members, and they felt that they had finally found others who shared their preference for kindness over violence, which had been a rare trait to come across in Chalk's old home. Chalk felt that she had finally found her home, but they worried that they would not be welcome forever as a king can only care for so many submales. However the King of the pride, a primal named Mangrove Flower, saw great leadership potential in Chalk, and Mangrove had been looking for the prefect heir as he knew he would not be able to lead forever. So Mangrove asked Chalk if he wished to stay in the pride permanently and become Mangrove's heir. Chalk was shocked at this not expecting to be allowed to stay let alone made a heir, but they excepted, happy to serve the pride for the rest of his life. As an official Flowering Pride member, their name was changed to a proper (plant themed) pride name, Willow!
Mangrove Flower sadly passed on early (in gameplay i retired him early lol) and so Willow became the King sooner than she had expected. During their Kinging ceremony, they were named Flowering Willow, a change from the previous kings' names receiving Flower after their original names. This was requested by Mangrove Flower before he died and he believed that Willow becoming king would be the beginning of a new peaceful and stable era for the pride, and he believed that the change to the naming tradition would be symbolic of this.
-----
Overall Flowering Willow is a very kind and calm lion, he prioritizes kindness and fairness over all things and tries to make any lion he comes across (in his pride or not) feel safe and not threatened.... That is unless the lion (or any other creature for that matter) makes themself a threat, because then Willow will not hold back in fighting to protect his pride and territory. Willow though seeming soft and like not much of a fighter is actually every good at battle due to where he grew up and also thanks to Mangrove Flower and Birch's training.
Willow viewed Mangrove and Birch as surrogate fathers, and he was devastated by Mangrove's death. He is extremally close to Birch and deeply appreciates Birch's aid and advice when it comes to leadership.
I havent decided if he has any actual mates, of course he has sired cubs but I havent decided if he is romantically involved with anyone hmmm...
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I just read you monkie kid X reader and I love it can you please do another monkie kid X reader where the reader comfort mk because he is scared to see the reader reaction to his monkie form the reader say that they love him no matter what (this is both comfort and fluff)
Don't question how I got this done so fast
Anyways! Im glad my abundance of energy let me turn this one out rq
Also, have my he/they MK headcannon as a treat
Word count: 500
MK was spiraling so hard. And who could blame him? He was someone he barely knew, someone you didn't know. He just got used to being in his form around the gang as they saw him the first time he transformed, but you? You were back home waiting for him, semi oblivious to what was happening.
So it was no surprise the first time he went into his monkie form around you, it was semi unplanned.
It was supposed to be a chill picnic on the roof watching the stars, and he let his guard down when he was half asleep on your shoulder, you were humming lowly. He felt you freeze, your humming stopped.
So he raised his head to look at you. You had your brows furrowed, and you gaze focused on his hands that held your own.
He followed your gaze, and felt his heart plummet when he saw that they were covered in fur and his nails were curved into claws. He froze, his breaths becoming faster. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
You noticed the weight come off your shoulder and looked over to him, his features contorted into one of fear and terror. You widened your eyes, dropping his hands and brought your own to cup his cheeks.
“MK. Look at me. Can you look at me?”
They nodded.
“Mirror me, ok?”
He nodded.
You inhaled through your nose. They did the same. You exhaled through your mouth. He did the same. You guys repeated this process for a bit till you could see their shoulders relax. You smiled, and now taking the chance to really look at your partner. He held his breath as you scanned his rounded ears, the fur coming down the sides of his face, the heart pattern around his eyes.
“So what made you think you could hide this adorable side of yourself from me for long?” You questioned.
Monkie brain.exe has crashed.
Rebooting…
He opened his mouth and made a ‘huh’ sound. You gasped whenyou saw his large canines.
“You have fangs now too!!?!? Do you know how much hotter that makes you??” You exclaimed. That made him snort. You smiled, wrapping your arms around him and brought him closer. He hugged you back, feeling tears of relief prick at his eyes.
“I thought you would hate me…” He mumbled. You wheezed, shoulders shaking.
“Hate you? Dude, almost nothing could make me hate you. And that list is very short.” You stated. Mk buried their face in your shoulder, staining your hoodie with his tears. You sighed, running your fingers through his hair as he sobbed into your shoulder.
“You really are a treasure to me.” They said. You chuckled, and kissed his head.
“You are a star to me MK. Nothing could change that.”
They felt his heart warm and swell, and he hoped it wouldn’t be the last time his heart grew with you.
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Truly, Madly, Deeply
Daemon Targaryen, Viserys Targaryen, Otto Hightower x Targ!Reader + with a hint of Aemma x Reader
Summary: This follows the five (and a half) accounts you, the princess, get ravished by your immensely loyal subjects.
Word Count: 20k+
Warnings: fem!reader, twin!reader, targcest (brother fucker), aged up!everyone, pwp that spiraled out of control, so much smut (masturbation [fic literally opens w it], voyeurism, threesome [f/f/m, f/m/m], vaginal penetration, dom/sub dynamic, anal penetration, double penetration, oral (f receiving), marking, cock warming, breeding kink, degradation kink, praise kink, public sex, hair pulling, edging, biting, spanking, choking/breath play, cream pie, overstimulation), internet translated high valyrian, slow burn, fuck boy!Viserys, stupid puppy!Daemon, church boy!Otto, baby girl!Aemma, city girl!reader, angst, fluff, jealousy, possessiveness, typos, etc.
A/N: you guys imma be so for real this shit is nasty like NASTY 🥲 DD/DNE MINORS DNI
btw i did the math for their ages during this time and 💀💀💀💀 i aged them up cos viserys is canonically 16 when he and aemma were wed which means daemon is 14. We're all going to agree everyone is in at least their 20s cos aint NO fucking way im writing about children fucking. Also the fact i almost made her fuck otto twice but i got too tired to write it HAHAAH. title is a 1d song btw, or a savage garden one, depends on who you are
Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @sloanexx @esquivelbianca
"Though Prince Baelon and Princess Alyssa had one set of twins and, sequentially, a son, it was not uncommon for many to think or mistake their children as triplets, moreover when they reached a certain point of maturity. It was almost ascertain that where one of the three was found, the two would not be far off, especially during the fires of their youth. Though eventually, both Viserys and Daemon would outgrow their sister in height and weight, neither would outgrow her wit and command over them, leaving her apparent as the head, and the two as her shoulders."
--Excerpt from 'The Songs in the Dance of Dragons' by Grand Maester Hamish, circa 500 A.C.
Daemon laid on his back. There was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead and chest. He had gone to bed in the clothes he was dressed in the night before, though it was drenched in all sorts of fluids. He could not be bothered to change then, he could not be bothered to change now, not even as the hour passes swiftly.
His sister would soon return from Citadel for their brother's wedding.
And he loathed it.
He loathed to know his sister, that you would shine your face upon him, only because Viserys asked you to come.
Viserys asked.
Viserys asked you to come.
Daemon's breath strains in his neck.
"Come, sister... come on my cock."
Daemon grits his teeth at the words, willing that sour memory away, cursing his brother's existence.
It was not helping him get what he needed from his hand right now.
Damn you. Damn you and the fact he had woken with an uncomfortable hard on, for he had dreamt of you.
He dreamt of your cheeks, of your shoulders, of your waist. He dreamt of how you embraced him tenderly against your breasts, and how snuggly he fit against you, for he was still at an age where you were taller than him. He belonged against your ribs then.
He pants as he strokes himself rapidly up and down.
He belongs against your ribs now still.
He tricks his senses with the memory of you. He recalls the way you smelled, the way you caressed his cheek, and the way you furiously defended him against Viserys' coarseness.
Daemon remembers a moment wherein he wept against you, there against your ribs. His tears that day were sweet, for he had you on his side.
He imagined that moment as he touched himself. He willed the memory of your scent and your voice into existence as he tightly pleasured his pulsing manhood. He recalled the softness of your palm as you brushed his chin affectionately. He pretended his working hand was yours.
Daemon's heart pounded as he chased after the feeling growing in his loins. He further quickens his actions.
The next part of the memory plays in his head against his will. Viserys barks at him and you, pointing out that he too was injured by their argument-turned-brawl.
Daemon heaves heavily.
Fucking Viserys.
He screws his eyes shut as he curls on the cushion, shifting on his spot as his arm began to tire.
He tries to freeze the memory in his mind, wanting to think only of your feel, your fragrance, but his mind is not on his side. He watches with his subconscious how you break away from him to go to Viserys, to go to your twin, your wretched half, to him he could never compete with. Yes, he too was injured, though, in Daemon's opinion, he was undeserving of your attention, for Viserys had inflicted a much larger wound on him.
Daemon's nostrils flare as his eyes rip open.
Where the pattern of the ceiling should be, he sees how you kissed Viserys to calm him down.
He heaves heavily, body straining even more as he fucks himself with hand, a growing bitterness in his mouth. It was not the morning breath that tasted so.
And again, he remembers it; the sour memory.
"Viserys," you moaned.
Daemon shakes his head furiously.
"Come, sister," Viserys panted as he thrust roughly into you, "come on my cock," he sighs, "be a good girl and come for your beloved twin, my pretty."
Daemon feels tears build in the corner of his eyes as he seals his lids tightly together. He relives the sounds his older siblings made that horrid afternoon.
He chokes on his spit as he thinks of your oh-face through the small crack in the door you idiots carelessly left open. He remembers how Viserys stuffed himself into you while on your knees on the guestroom bed, how he yanked your silver locks back and slapped his hand on your mouth to shut you up.
It didn't work; Daemon could still hear your lewd sounds slip through his fingers. He heard them clearly, even now.
Daemon comes to the thought of Viserys spilling into you. He comes to the remembrance of how his brother pummeled forward into you and how his sister plummeted down because of him. Daemon thinks about the strain on Viserys' neck as he spasmed into you and how your spine arched as you screamed into the cushions.
Daemon feels his heat shoot out and sputter hotly into his hand. He catches his breath and feels his heart race. His length softens.
He catches his breath as he cranes his neck and checks the mess he's made. He clenches his jaw, irritated by how much of himself he spilled on to his breeches at the thought of his older siblings coupling.
He grunts and angrily sits up. He growls as he stands and rips his clothing off, throwing them onto the floor. His long, light hair bounces by the ends of his shoulder blades as he heads for his bath.
It had been a few years when he caught you and Viserys, and yet the memory was still vivid. It was forever seared into his mind. He was boiling with an unnamable emotion. He was unsure if it was rage, hurt, or envy, but it was burning true.
That day, Daemon he had been looking for you, wanting to gift you a necklace as a remembrance of him for your departure to Essos. It would be one of the many solo travels you'd have since then. And it would be the first time the three of you would be apart, the first time you would be away from Daemon. He wanted so badly to see you that day, and instead he saw treachery in its truest form.
That same day, later that afternoon, as Daemon recounted against himself the unspeakable acts he bore witness to while staring blankly into space in the gardens, the twins came looking for him.
He was repulsed by how you two acted so nonchalant, like everything was normal, like you two hadn't just been fucking in secret, like you had not just been sharing each other's spit and slick. He then hit him like a boulder, that this nonchalance was present because you two had most definitely been going at it long before today.
He is immediately hostile when you reach out for him. Daemon slaps your hand off and threatens. Viserys immediately steps forward as you reel back, and puts Daemon in his place.
Daemon remembers all of this as he washed himself in with a sweet smelling water in his tub.
The smell was reminiscent of you.
He hates it.
He hates that Viserys soiled you. He hates that had taken your maidenhead. He hates that he no inclination to tell their parents that he intended to marry you. He hates that because he wouldn't have done the same. He hates that you seemingly enjoyed being taken advantage of, by your twin, no less. He hates that you touched him with the same hands you used to touch Viserys.
Yet, he hates that he had shoved you away in his disgust. He hates that you had fallen into Viserys' arms because of it. He hates how he had gotten berated by his older brother for hurting you. He hates that he had stormed off after. He hates that he had never given you the necklace. He hates that you had still left on dragon back that day although he was upset with you. He hates that you had incessantly sent him letters, although he never responded.
He hates that you arrive with late today. He hates that he's been so agitated because of how late you were. He hates that Viserys sees through him. He hates that his older brother tries to calm him down. He hates that his words help.
He hates that he comes alive when you emerge. He hates that you cut through the festivities. He hates that your holy halo steals everyone's attention.
He hates that you immediately greet Viserys. He hates that your beloved half drops what he is doing for you. He hates that you embrace Aemma as well. He hates that you so eagerly dote on her.
He hates that you reach your arms out to him, like everything was fine between the two of you. He hates that you pull him for a kiss. He hates that he goes weak. He hates that he nuzzles his face into your neck. He hates that he feels himself twitch in his trousers at the scent of your perfume.
He hates that he missed you. He hates you so much.
Daemon braces you against his chest. He feels you rub your cheek against him. He releases a sigh. You belonged there, against his ribs.
Your long silver hair was wound in curls and braids pinned with shining metals and jewels. The back cut of your red dress went past your shoulder blades, the front was deliciously right above your cleavage. His hand rubbed the curve of your waist, familiar yet so foreign against him. By your nape dangled baby hairs that tickled your skin. He finds jealousy of it. He tickles his nose and lips against your milky neck, making you curl at the feel and giggle in response.
He missed you... so much.
You pull back. Daemon doesn't want you to, but he is powerless against your wishes. You slip from his fingers and he finds it mildly bearable only because you smile at him. You kiss him on the cheek again and tuck his hair behind his ear.
"Skorkydoso ēza ñuha valonqar issare?" you coo as you caress his cheek, "ēza Visērȳs issare sȳz naejot ao?" How has my baby brother been? Has Viserys been good to you?
Daemon licks his lips as he watches yours curve into a bigger smile. His violet eyes meet your own as you rub his chin with your thumb. He is a child in your clutch all over again.
"Oh, damn him," Viserys calls from his seat. You and Daemon were standing across him.
With an eye roll, Viserys grabs his chalice of wine and mutters, "he's no better than when he was four, sissy."
Aemma beside him chuckles but says the name of her betrothed in a scolding manner.
Daemon watches as you turn to your twin, "do not insult my darling, you imbecile."
Your twin turns to you, "pah! I will say what I want about the fucker. It is my day, you brat!" He points a finger, "kessa daor sagon pryjata ondoso ñuha idaña." It will not be ruined by my twin.
Daemon turns to Viserys as you scoff.
"And pray tell, what will you do about your bratty twin, Viserys?" you raise a brow in challenge.
Viserys smirks and leans back on his seat, "I'll have her over knee and discipline her like when we were younger."
Daemon clenches his jaw so tightly his teeth could break.
Aemma laughs and slaps his shoulder, "hush, love. You will do no such thing. Much less on our wedding day."
Daemon thought Aemma looked none the wiser as she said that. He looks at Viserys, catching a darkness behind his eyes, then back to you, finding the same shadow. You roll your eyes at him. It takes everything in Daemon not to burst at the seams. If only Aemma knew. Gods be good, his tongue itched to finally be granted retaliation.
But he couldn't do that. He couldn't do that to his dear cousin, Aemma, at her wedding. Seven hells, he couldn't even do that to Viserys, though he loathed him so. But most of all, he couldn't do that to you.
So he kept his mouth shut.
You release a sigh and click your tongue at Viserys.
"Ahh, my love," you turn to Aemma, "how joyous yet tragic that you will deal with him for the rest of your life."
Aemma holds back her giggles, "well, it's not like you will be able to rid of him entirely either, my princess."
You grin form ear to ear as your eyes dart back to Viserys, "an unfortunate truth."
Your twin takes his turn to roll his eyes.
Suddenly, you grab Daemon's hand and reach out the other to Viserys, "might my brothers indulge their favorite sister to a dance?"
Daemon's ears perk. He quickly pulls you into him, but you repel him slightly, wanting the eldest to join in. He eyes Viserys, mentally telling him to decline the offer.
Viserys raises his brows, "you're our only sister."
"Precisely," you purse your lips.
"And you're quite irritating," he adds, earning another scold from Aemma.
Aemma leans into him, "come now, my love. Your sister has traveled far to attend to our day. The least you can do is share a dance with her."
Viserys turns to Aemma, face softening at her lilac doe eyes. He sighs then stands, turning to you and Daemon, "fine. But I shall make it a point to step on your toes."
You cock your head to the side, "funny. You're acting as though you are capable of anything but."
Daemon sizes up to Viserys as he approaches and takes your hand. The eldest catches his expression and scoffs, "oh, bugger, I will not steal your sister from you, Daemon. She's all yours."
Daemon seethes, and yet before he can bark anything back, you yank both of them to the dance floor and eye both of them hotly, "I will not have my brothers quarrel on such a lovely morn."
"When have we never not quarreled for your attention, sister," Daemon finds himself retorting with little thought, with little emotion.
"Oh, Daemon," you mutter, leaning into him, "emā dōrī ēdas naejot vīlībagon Visērȳs syt bona." You have never had to fight Viserys for that.
Viserys scoffs out a chuckle, "aye. She would rather feed me to her mount before she ever ignores you."
Daemon begins to bristle at the thought, at the lies his older siblings were shoving down his throat.
The three of you dance to the upbeat music. The two men alternate between steps to fill in as your partner.
As quickly as he was made furious by the words he was just told, he was struck with awe at your form. You danced between them, expertly spinning towards Daemon and Viserys at every other down beat. It was a sight to behold. It was so mesmerizing everyone began to watch.
He had forgotten how good you were at this. How easy it came to you to entertain them because you had always made it a point to dance with both brothers at every occasion. He had forgotten how happy it was to dance with you and Viserys.
Daemon missed you so damn much.
Viserys catches you as you twirl toward him. He places his hands on your waist and glides with you for a whole 8 counts. Afterwards, you continue the steps and move towards Daemon. You and him circle around each other, smiling fondly as you did.
Aemma, from her seat, feels her heart soar at the sight of the siblings making merry in the middle of the room. She was overjoyed that you had caused this shift, that you had made the occasion, and the princes, as sparkle in a way only you could.
Her breath hitches when you catch her gaze as you danced with the two men, both unwilling to avert their eyes from you. They very evidently missed you greatly. She was glad her wedding was a good enough cause for your return. Aemma shifts in her seat when she sees you bite your lips. She missed her beloved cousin as well.
"It was known that Queen Aemma and her good sister were incredibly fond of each other. Their sisterly bond would never be bruised or broken by any issue. Most notably, the princess attended to Queen Aemma whenever she was with child. She would treat the queen's only heir, Rhaenyra, as though she was her own, would mourn the passing of each of the queen's stillborn children, and would be greatly changed after Queen Aemma's sequential death from labors. Her death was a source of strife between the princess and her twin brother, King Viserys." --Excerpt from 'The Blood of the Dragons' by unnamed maester, circa 350 A.C.
Aemma moaned as you kissed her and reached your fingers into her soaking thighs. She grabbed at your hair and you instantly pulled back, swatting her hand away, giving her a stern look, "you'll ruin my braids, lovie."
She sighs as you crawl down body, peppering kisses all over her skin as you did. The fabric of your dress rubbed against her naked form and the bed dipped where you propped your hands and knees as you continued your descent.
Aemma could not help herself and reached out to you again as you sucked on her skin. She rubbed the sleeves of your dress and felt goosebumps form on her chest where your cold necklace dragged down her hot skin.
When her hands involuntarily clawed into your scalp, you pull away, shifting on your knees. You hiss and grab her wrists, giving her a stern look, "filthy bitch. I warned you once before. Don't be naughty or I won't let you come."
Aemma takes in the sight of your swollen lips and licks her own, feeling a pit form in her belly at your beauty.
Viserys, who was lying beside Aemma, feels himself get hard as his sister looks down on his wife.
I tilt my head at her, "I taught you how to be a good girl, didn't I? Hmm?"
Aemma nods slowly.
"Then be a good girl," you slap her wet folds, making her yelp, "and hold up my hair while I feast on your pretty cunny," you purr, kissing Aemma's left breast as you gathered your long hair up.
Aemma shudders and takes your hair in her hands, curling up slightly as you travelled south.
The sound Aemma makes when you kiss her tenderness makes Viserys' cock twitch. He heaves as he watches you rub your nose into her pearl and grab her supple thighs, willingly squeezing your cheeks between them.
Aemma calls out your name hoarsly. Viserys calms himself, remembering he promised to only watch as you gave your good sister her wedding gift.
Aemma's back arches as you work your tongue into her. She cannot help but rip at your hair though she tries her best not to.
"So sweet, and all mine," you purr, "isn't that right, Aemma?"
Aemma coils in her spot and screws her eyes shut. She knows she will be in trouble if agrees, she knows she will be in trouble if she doesn't, and she knows she will be in trouble if she keeps her silence. So, she responds with what is best for her in that moment, "yes."
You lift your eyes, feeling yourself grow damp at the sight of her wantonness, "yes what?"
"Kessa, ñuha dāria, Iksan aōhon," Aemma sighs. Yes, my queen, I am yours.
You moan, wild for the sound of High Valyrian, and chuckle darkly, eating her out more eagerly, "sȳz riña." Good girl.
Aemma screams when she feels your teeth nip at her.
Viserys had had enough at that point.
He climbs off the bed and walks behind you with his raging erection. Neither of you seem to notice, but you finally do when he rips your skirt up and rubs his tip into your pulsing heat.
Aemma's eyes break open as you pull away from her to look behind, "you filthy fuck, I s--"
You do not continue because your words are sliced in half by the lewd moan that rips out of your mouth when Viserys thrusts into you. You feel two pulses in you, your own and his. He grunts when he feels you clench around him.
He feels different, snugger inside you somehow. You brush it off to the fact it has been a while since you've had him.
"I promised to only watch my beloved as you tongue fuck her--" Viserys leans down and takes your hair from Aemma. She gratefully releases it and reaches out for your cheeks, wordlessly begging you to attend to her again.
"--but I did not say I wouldn't touch you, pretty whore," he smiles as he begins to thrust a rough pace.
You squirm and tighten your grip onto Aemma's thighs as he does this.
"Jikagon va, rene" he pants, "kesā daor gaomagon ñuha ābrazȳrys isse jaelagon." Go on, slut. You will not keep my wife in want.
Aemma licks her lips at the sight of her husband fucking you in front of her. She feels her core flutter at the familiarity. She feels her pulse in her core more prominently now. She places the back of her knee onto your shoulder, breathily begging, "please."
You whimper as you turn back to Aemma and huff hotly onto her flesh.
And so as you feasted on Aemma's weeping womanhood, you were battered by Viserys' angry manhood.
The sounds in the air were obscene, squelching, delirious, and as you all slowly rode toward your highs, Viserys made it a point to make it difficult for you.
He yanks at your hair and makes eye contact with Aemma, "you will come when I do, but this bitch between us will not."
You lift your head upon hearing that, but Viserys pushes you down, making Aemma yelp at the way your face digs into her. You pull up to catch a breath, lest you suffocate on princess cunt. It wouldn't be the worst way to die.
"Did you not say that I shouldn't waste my seed, sister," Viserys taunts as he quickens his pace, "I will throw you to the side and come in Aemma's pretty cunny, as I should-- as you said I should," his hands reach between your thighs and begins to rub you there, "līvi ȳdra daor māzigon." Whores don't come.
Aemma whines when you begin to slow your pace and desperately lifts her hips up for more friction.
The sound of her helpless whines send a spiral through your belly. You would not dare leave your darling girl unsatisfied. Aemma is grateful that you begin lapping eagerly at her again.
"What say you, come slut?" Viserys hisses, "you have quarrels with your king?"
You groan when Viserys begins to rub your sensitive nub harsly, making Aemma, in turn, squeak.
You're in no place to pick a fight with him and so you breath against Aemma, "inside."
Viserys' ego inflates, "skoros iksin bona?" What was that?
"Iemnȳ, Visērȳs, kostilus." Inside, Viserys, please.
He smirks, "Iemnȳ qilōni?" Inside who?
"Iemnȳ nyke." Inside me.
Aemma's breath strains as she opens her eyes. She does not want to miss this.
Viserys laughs, "greedy little stupid whore," he slaps your ass, "maybe I should fuck a babe into you too. Maybe then you'd cease with your slutty urges."
You take out your frustrations on Aemma. She loves it.
"Aemma wouldn't mind, wouldn't you darling?" Viserys says, "you want to grow a babe the same time as your good sister?"
Aemma whines and nods, "yes! Yes."
Viserys imagines the sight of his two girls filled with his seed, carrying his children, "mmm, fuck."
Suddenly you're all coming.
It was unintended, but the gods made it be. The three of you shiver and spill into each other. The room is heated with your breath and your voices echo through the chamber. Aemma is the loudest, a high pitched squeal ripping through her throat. You shake and squirm, glad to have gotten Aemma spasming beneath you as you spasm above her yourself. Viserys grunts as he digs his fingers into your hips as he bottoms out.
The white noise that plays is one of pure bliss.
When Viserys pulls out, he carelessly drops your hair onto your right shoulder and then jumps beside Aemma as he catches his breath.
You lift your head and look at Aemma who is staring at you with blown eyes. You smile at her and kiss her navel, "like my gift, pretty girl?"
Aemma nods as she heaves, "yesyes," she sighs, "thank you, my love."
You feel your skirt fall down your legs as you crawl over Aemma to kiss her on her lips. Her tongue darts out onto your wet ones, relishing the taste of her on you.
When you pull away, you wipe your lips then slap your damp hand onto Viserys chest with a fury, "stupid fuck."
Viserys yelps and recoils at the harsh assault but breaks into a laugh. He pulls Aemma into his chest as your crawl off the bed, "what?" he asks innocently as he kisses Aemma's temple, eyes not leaving you at all, "I did what you begged me to, darling."
You stand and walk over to dresser, grabbing yourself a damp piece of cloth stationed there, wiping yourself down, "you'll fuck a babe into me, will you?"
Viserys laughs. You roll your eyes as you look at your reflection on the vanity.
"What?" he says again, "Aemma truly wouldn't mind, wouldn't you, lover?" Viserys turns to her as Aemma turns to him.
Aemma, no longer drunk with lust, makes a face.
You answer for her, "you would let me mother a bastard like a true whore, brother?" You eye him as you lift your skirt and wipe the evidence Viserys left in you, "that's not very prince-like of you." You chuck the towel at him after cleaning yourself, "but then again, you've always been the bigger whore between the two of us."
Viserys tires to dodge the towel, but he does not.
Aemma turns to you and offers a smile, "she is right, Viserys. As much as I would love to have children with her, I would not have her be ostracized for it."
You smile back at Aemma and walk over to her, pushing your hair back as you lean in to give her another kiss.
Viserys watches as you do this then mutters, "then I would make her my second wife."
You pull away from Aemma and roll your eyes yet again, "I will be no ones second."
The married couple watches as you walk away. The man calls out, "you're my second! Second in birth, second in life, my sweet half."
"No, I was your first," you correct sternly, heading for the door, "you married your second." You turn over your shoulder to add, "no offence, Aemma."
Aemma shakes her head, "I am honored to be both your seconds."
With that, you give them one last look and open the door, "enjoy your marriage."
Aemma leans into Viserys shoulder and smile. The latter answers, "there is talk that I will ascend grandfather's throne. I will wed you then, sister."
You roll your eyes and close the door, loudly calling out, "goodbye, brother."
You begin to venture down the halls and find yourself strolling down the gardens. You feel of the breeze on your skin and breathe in deeply the fragrance of the flowers. You smile to yourself, shutting your eyes as you basked in he sunlight.
You had gone a great many places, yet still, there was no place like home.
"There you are," a voice calls. Soon after a hand comes to your back. It doesn't take long for your to figure out who it its. "I have been looking for you everywhere."
You open your eyes and smile at Daemon, "and I was just looking for you."
You watch as Daemon's lips curl into a smile. You catch how he tries to hide how pleased he is by the sentiment. You push his hair away as the wind blows it to his face, "I thought you would be off on dragonback."
Daemon purses his lips. How could you possibly know that was his plans?
You chuckle at his expression and link your arms with his, "you've forgotten I'm always right."
"Well, I was about to," he leans into you, a grin playing on his lips, "but then I thought it would be better if I had you to accompany me."
"Dōna valītsos," sweet boy. You smile and nod, "I would love to ride with you."
Your younger brother and you begin to leisurely stroll down the area, savoring the weather as well as each other's presence.
You press your cheek upon Daemon's shoulder, "I am certain Alaerion will enjoy riding with you and Caraxes again. She hates being bound or caged, but she was excited to go back to the pit after being away for long."
Daemon feels his chest swell with joy upon hearing that. "I am excited to see her too. It's been a while since red and indigo graced the skies together."
As you make your way to the dragon pit, you are intercepted by an unexpected face. You halt in your tracks, stopping Daemon along with you, upon seeing the man in green across us.
The man stops as well and immediately greets you with a reverent bow, "your majesties."
"Otto," you mutter with a surprised smile. Daemon eyes this Otto persona as he rises, violet eyes immediately poking daggers into his form.
You break away from your brother and push your hair behind you, "what brings you to King's Landing?" you tilt my head to the side, "it's an awful long way from Old Town."
Daemon clenches his jaw tightly as Otto steps forward. It was all to clear to him that the cunt was smitten by you.
"I have been offered a position to represent my house in the small council," he presses his lips into the faintest of smiles, "I have merely accepted the honor."
"Ah," you lift your nose, "I see."
Daemon comes to your side and pulls you into him. His stare does not leave Otto, and soon enough his violet eyes lock with his green ones.
You topple into Daemon due to the force of his action, but you do not mind. You enjoy how you are roughly handled by your brothers, more often than not. You bring your arm around Daemon as he rubs your side.
Otto blankly stares. Daemon notices the clench of his jaw. You notice the building tension and break it.
"May I present Prince Daemon Targaryen," you announce, though you do not turn away from Otto, "rider of Caraxes, and my darling baby brother."
"It is an honor to meet your acquaintance, prince Daemon," Otto bows in regard.
Daemon turns to you just as you turn to him and offer a mischievous expression.
Daemon's eye twitches. Him? Really?
"Darling, this is Lord Otto Hightower," you speak to your brother, though your eyes go back to the said man. You finally notice how Otto clenches his jaw as he smiles and nods at the prince.
You turn back to Daemon. Your brows furrowing at the sight of the lines on his forehead. Hmm. Odd.
"He was a friend I made during my tours in Citadel," you reach out to his face and rub on the creases forming on his skin.
Daemon breaks his hard gaze from Otto, and softens when he turns to you.
"He was kind to me, and even spoke on my behalf to see the place, though he was actually sent to escort me away. He, himself, is adamant a woman had no business at the place," you turn back to Otto, "but I think I have become the exception."
Otto turns to you and instantly croaks out, "not an exception, princess. I would much rather lose my honor than subject a woman like you to the life lead by a maester--"
You laugh.
"--but I am not a man without reason," he shifts on his spot, "you told me your stance and I was moved by your case. I merely spoke what you told me to the Grand Maesters, thus allowing you to tour Citadel freely."
"And I am thankful for your services," you give a lopsided smirk, "I was beginning to think my travels would have been for naught had you not..." you trail off, "come."
Daemon's ears clap. He grinds his teeth as he watches Otto's reactions closely. The prince's nostrils flare at his poker face. The fuck does not betray himself at all, and it makes Daemon's insides boil. He will kill him the moment he does betray himself, and Dark Sister will enjoy the blood bath.
Otto is nonchalant even as he to turns to your brother. And when he does, you speak again, "I look forward to seeing you around, Otto," you smile, making the brown haired man turn back to you.
"My brother and I will be taking our dragons for a ride," you raise a brow, "perhaps you would like to join us."
Daemon face falls as he hears your offer. He look to you in betrayal and disbelief.
You feel the hot gaze of your brother.
Otto as he pipes up, "I would not like to intrude upon you and your brother, your grace."
"Come now," you speak to him, though you tilt your head at Daemon, "I'm sure my beloved brother can find it in his heart to bring you along."
Daemon stiffens as he stares at you.
You hold back a laugh and point to Otto, "surely Caraxes wouldn't mind if he dangled beneath his belly, Daemon."
Daemon pulls his head back.
Otto does so too, then his eyes widen at the insinuation.
The prince suddenly breaks into a toothy grin and laughs with his whole chest. You follow suit.
Daemon turns back to the lord, "sissy's right," he raises a hand jovially, "my boy would appreciate a live necklace. And I think you would make quite an amusing one."
Otto grunts where the Targaryens giggle.
Daemon leans into you as he laughs and you shake your head at his exaggerated movements. You sigh and turn back to Otto, "I jest, Lord Hightower. Very truly, I agree that anyone who wishes to squeeze between Daemon and I would be intruding."
Daemon catches his breath and finds himself kissing your cheek. You turn to him, smiling at his affection. He pulls you in close.
"We must away," you turn to Otto, offering a final smile, "I look forward to seeing you around, my lord."
Daemon's smile flattens when he hears Otto's oily response, "as do I, my princess."
"It was no secret that Lord Otto Hightower was repelled by Prince Daemon Targaryen, just as he repelled the latter. When the prince's brother ascended as king and announced Lord Otto as his Lord Hand, tensions grew between all of the mentioned parties. Though many could attribute their dislike for another to the Rogue Prince's uncouth tendencies and the Lord Hand's disapproval of it, there are a great many rumors that say their conflict was borne out of their mutual desire for Lone Woman of Citadel, The Fanged Beauty, the Princess-"
--Excerpt from 'The Histories of the Hightowers' by Lord Baelor Hightower & Maester Lucien, 209 A.C.
You had been in the middle of getting ready for the day when there was a knock on the door. You were sat on a chair in front of your vanity in nothing but your shift dress, combing your silver tresses. You pulled up the neckline of your soft, thin dress as you awaited whoever wanted to seek entrance. A moment later, it was clear it was not your a servant because they did not immediately announce themselves.
You turned from the reflection of the door to the door itself from over your bare shoulder. You continue to brush your silver hair and smooth it out with fragrant oils.
"Who is it?"
"Who would dare intrude on the princess as she dressed?"
You smile upon hearing the voice. You turn back to your reflection and call out, "go away then, Dae-dae."
The doors break open and in comes a grinning Daemon, "I will do no such thing, sissy."
You snort as you watch him walk over from the mirror. You set your brush down and turn to him as he leans down and brushes your hair to the side. He kisses your neck then takes your hand and kisses the visible blue veins there. You chuckle and roll your eyes, "alright, what have you done?"
Daemon smirks and pulls away, walking over to your bed, "I have no idea what you mean."
Your eyes follow him as he sits at the side of your bed, crossing his arms, looking out to you with a rascal look.
You take in his attire, the sharply cut leather of his top that complimented his figure, his shiny black boots and his snug pants. He has grown to be a dashing man, you think. You smile fondly at him and lean your head into your hand, "you nary show me affection simply because you want to, Daemy."
He cringes at the nickname; that being the one he really did not like. You enjoy it so precisely because of the fact. You bubble in amusement of his face.
Daemon leans on the headboard, "is it a crime to want a change of pace then?"
You shake your head and roll your eyes, "not at all, my love."
His stomach rolls at the pet name.
Daemon does nothing but watch you after that.
He watches as you throw your hair behind your shoulders, as you lather your skin with lotions, as you paint your skin with rouge. He jumps off the bed when you grab a necklace and attempt to put it on. He eagerly mutters, "let me."
You turn to him as he circles behind you, handing him the gold chain with blue jewels. You gather your hair up, looking at his reflection as he fixed the necklace upon your throat.
Daemon makes it a point to brush the back of his hand against your jaw and nape as he hooks the piece of jewelry around you. Once it is fastened he takes your hair and smooths it down, "gevie." Beautiful.
His attention is focused solely on stroking your hair so he does not see that you smile at his reflection as you say, "hae issi ao, lēkia." As are you, brother.
He ceases his actions upon hearing that. He stills in his spot for a long moment. Your smile fades when he remains rigid too many seconds too long. You straighten up and blink rapidly a few times. You decide to break into smile and tease, "I should ready myself for the flock of ladies that will throw themselves at you."
Daemon finally turns to you, or rather your reflection.
You tease further, grin growing, "and perhaps I should ready potential matches for you, my prince."
You reach out for your earrings and begin to put them on. You offer him a playful look as you do so. You freeze at his response.
"What about you?"
You furrow your brows and hook your golden earrings to your ear, "what about me?"
Daemon watches as you put on your other earring then turn on your chair to face him. He looks down on you and shifts on his leg. He links his hands in front of him, "you are four years my senior. You are a woman," he reaches out to your cheek, "my woman."
You raise a brow at his words.
"If anything tis I that should be fussing over your matches, princess."
You close your eyes as you chuckle softly. You take his hand and look back at him, "oh, my baby. You needn't fuss. You needn't ever fuss about me at all," you shake your head, "ever."
Daemon's gaze is locked upon you as you stand and kiss his knuckles. You tilt your head at him and bring your hands down. You pout softly, "or have you forgotten how formidable your sissy is? Lest you forget, I will remind I broke your baby teeth because you wanted to steal the pony father gifted me."
Daemon cannot help the snort that leaves him and looks away from you. You find yourself smiling at his reaction.
"I will fuss over you. I will care for you. You are my responsibility, Daemon. Twas I that promised mother-" you suck in a breath, "that you would not be without one when she-"
"But I am not your baby!" Daemon snaps at you, "I am not a child and I have no need of your coddling anymore!" he quips, yanking his hands out your own.
The action, though not physically painful, hurt you deeply. You immediately feel your chest tighten as he walks away from you. He head to your bed again but does not sit and just stands by its side, back turned to you, "you overcompensate your mollifying for the time you've spent away from me. I despise it." He turns back to you, eyes very suddenly red with hurt and anger, "you say you care for me, but you leave me for many moons and stay for but a few days!"
You feel your throat constrict at his accusing tone, "I send ravens for you every--"
"YOU THINK I WANT YOUR FUCKING LETTERS?!" Daemon bursts as he marches over to you, gripping your shoulders tightly.
You look at him in bewilderment, and soon enough, your eyes begin to glass. Daemon watches your tears spill and your lips quiver.
"So... that is why you never respond to me."
Daemon's forehead wrinkles and he releases your shoulders. He drops his head and huffs, "that's not what I meant."
You release a deep breath, "then what do you mean?"
"I-" he lifts his face slowly, reluctantly looking at you, "I do not want this from you."
His words stab at you deeper. You shake your head and clutch your chest, "you no longer want me to care for you? Is that what you want?!"
"No," he weakly retorts, grabbing your hands, squeezing them tightly. His knees buckle, "that's not what I want."
"Then tell me what you want!" you cry out, "do not speak hurtful things to me like you did once before then never explain why."
Daemon recalls that day. That day he meant to give you a necklace but never did. He looks at the one on your neck now then remembers where he stashed away the object that reminded him of you and Viserys' treachery. He blinks as he brings your hands to his face, "I want you to love me the way I love you."
You caress his cheeks and shake your head, unsure of what to say, "I love you so much, Daemon."
Daemon furrows his brows and straightens, rubbing your arms back and forth. "I want you to love me like you love Viserys," he heaves heavily and takes your pulse to kiss it, "but I want you to love me more."
"Oh, Daemon," you rub his cheeks with your thumb, "I already love you more than I love Viserys. I always have loved you more, since the day you were born."
Daemon heaves heavily upon hearing that, anger and frustration building within him.
When you pull him in to kiss him, he leans towards your mouth, but so swiftly bring his head down and kiss his forehead instead.
It destroys him.
He shoves you away and you look at him like a deer that's just gotten shot. He gives you one last look before storming away.
You call out to him in hopes of stopping him. You so badly wanted to chase after him, but you were too afraid that he would shove off all over again, and things would end the same way the ended the first time you got into such argument. You did not want to go through all of that for the second time. So you let him leave.
Daemon looks over his shoulder as he storms off, laughing bitterly at the lack of calls. So, you don't care enough to follow after, huh?
After you got dressed, you quickly look for Viserys, eager to spill speak your woes, but when you found him, you see a great many Lords discussing many things with him. Undoubtedly they were trying to get into his good graces for he was now unofficially the heir to the Iron Throne.
You would not interrupt him at this time. You did not want all of those Lords to see you in this state anyway.
So instead, you find yourself seeking solitude in the small shrine room for the Seven. There you knelt before the bust of the Mother and wept to her, praying for comfort.
You do not realize someone knelt next to you until he speaks.
You gasp and turn to your right. Otto Hightower mutters a prayer, "I pray the Mother will give comfort for our sorrows and wipe away our tears."
You release a breath and you take in his closed eyes. You turn to the statue.
"I pray that she guide us through our heartache, that we may find peace."
You sniffle and look to your linked fingers, "will you pray for me as well, Otto?"
Otto turns to you and responds, "I am praying for you, my princess."
You hold back your tears as you meet his gaze. Otto's solemn expression falls even more grave when he sees the tears streak your cheeks.
You whimper and give him a sad smile, "thank you, my lord."
Otto continues to pray for you, pacing his prayers to your breathing. By the time you've calmed down, he ends his supplication to the gods. His heart is heavy as he looks at you. So badly, he wishes to dry your tears.
Otto clenches his jaw, "we can continue to pray, or, if you'd like," he turns to the statue of the Mother, "you can vent your sorrows to me. Perhaps I could do something to... remedy your issue."
You release a soft chuckle. You turn to him with a soft smile and nod your head, "I would be grateful if you listened as I spoke my troubles."
Otto looks back upon you, taking in your undone hair and your pink face. Whichever fool dare wronged you will not rest easy.
"I only need you to listen," you nod quicker, "that is all. I would not require you to do anything for me, Otto."
Otto thinks he would do anything for you. He would kill for you. He does not say that though and only shifts on his spot, turning his whole attention to you. He offers you his hand in comfort.
You gratefully take it and shift closer to him.
Otto wishes to wipe your soft cheeks but he knows that if he does so, he will not be able to hold himself back from doing his other urges, ones that were far less noble and descent. After all, he sneaks a look to his side, the Mother is watching.
"My brother and I got into an argument," you sigh as you look at him through tear laced eyes.
Otto knows exactly which brother you were referring to and yet he still asks, "your twin, or your... baby brother?"
You wipe your face roughly, "I argued with Daemon."
"Mmm," he hums, "prince Daemon is a rather rugged character. I cannot say I am surprised by his actions."
You feel a protective anger surge through you. You glare at him and pull your hand away.
The sentiment strikes through him.
"You are supposed to be listening, are you not?"
Otto does not respond.
"I do not need you to weigh in on my brother's character. I know his far tendencies better than anyone else."
Otto submits and bow his head, "forgive me for my crassness, your grace."
You turn away from him and look up to the face of the Mother before you.
He watches the tears continue to fall from your violet eyes. Fucking Daemon Targaryen. He takes in how silver strands of your precious silver hair cascade over your face and shoulders and thinks you are Mother incarnate. He draws in a deep breath to calm himself and to rip of all the unholy thoughts that were building in his head.
"He cuts me so deeply, Otto," you mumble, "I love him dearly," your lips quiver, "I only want the best for him, but it's like... it's like-- it's never enough. It's like my love is not enough. It's like I am not enough. I cannot be me. I cannot want the best for me..." you turn back to him, "I want to see the world with Alaerion. I want to feel the wind in my hair. I want-" you choke, "... he spurns me for my want."
You shake your head and try to hold back a fiercer wave of tears that threaten to spill out of you. You cannot help that you break and crumble into your hands.
The lord cannot help himself any longer either, and pulls you into him as you weep in sadness. You clutch him tightly and pour your heart out into his chest. He shushes you, strokes your hair, and pats your back.
You both end up sitting on the floor to better accommodate your shared embrace. It was still pretty uncomfortable, but both your knees were grateful for the change of position.
He feels the way you shake your head against him.
You sigh, "I'm sure you scoff at my ideas," you pull away from him. Your hands go to his shoulders, "you do not agree that mere women are meant to do such things."
"But you are not a mere woman," Otto clutches your cheeks, "you are a Targaryen princess," he wipes your tears away, "you are closer to the gods than men," he shakes his head, "you do not crumble, you conquer."
Your lips part at his words. No more tears fall from your eyes after.
"Do not waste your energy on a boy who does not recognize you as what you are," he says, hands slowly going down your neck.
You take in a deep breath. You shift on your spot, "and what exactly am I?"
Otto swallows a lump in his throat as you crawl onto him and straddle his lap. Immediately, he feels his pulse in his trousers, and though his eyes momentarily flick to the Mother behind you, he does not make any attempt to push you off. You were the Mother. He nearly tells you this, but manages not to. Instead he speaks as he swipes the pad of his thumb to your pink lips, moist with tears, "a queen."
You place take his hands in yours and lift your nose, "you would make me your queen?"
"You are already my queen," he mutters under his breath. He sits up straighter and brings his hands to the swell of your hips, adjusting you atop him. Your own hands go back to his shoulders again. Otto adds, "I would make you whatever you desire."
You lean into him until your foreheads were pressed together. He makes a sound when your hot breath hits his face.
"And what would you do to be able to give me my desires?" you say this in slightly amused tone. You say this to taunt him.
Otto knows this, but he doesn't care. He answers seriously regardless, "whatever it takes."
His soul nearly leaves him when you whimper.
Right after you make that sound, he traps your mouth against his. You instantly lean into him and moan at his warmth. Your fingers scratch up to his collar, then they dig into the roots of his dark hair. He, himself, moans when you tug firmly.
Otto wastes no more time and quickly digs into your skirts, ripping them up until he had access to the softness between your thighs. Sweet mother, he's missed you. He eagerly touches your core and it makes you break away from him, in lieu of groaning as you leaned into his shoulder.
He's gotten practice since the last time you've met. You being his first, he quite clumsy with his touch. You did not get to teach him much in Citadel, for your escapades were always rushed and unplanned, not unlike what it was this very moment. He made it a point to get better though, knowing he'd see you again once he got to King's Landing.
"Seven fucking hells," you mutter against his ear as your one hand squeezes his bicep.
Otto rubs his cheek into yours and whispers, "feels good, doesn't it? I've practiced for you."
You squeal as rubs his fingers in purposeful circles and maneuvers according to your reaction. He feels you pull his arm closer, so teases a finger into you. Instantly, you let out a sharp moan and whimper. The sound of his name echoes through the shrine and it was the holiest thing he had ever heard.
His other arm hand goes around your torso and secures you in place, "I will make you feel better, my queen."
You moan against his neck and suckle on his skin there. You begin to rock your hips into him as you begin to weep from your cunt.
When he feels you dripping, he finally slips a fingers into you, and you groan at the feel of. He nips at your earlobe and works into you in a similar pace that you buck yourself to.
"More," you mewl.
He adds another finger.
He feels himself grow harder than he already was. It begins to feel uncomfortable, but he rather liked hearing you make the noises you were making.
You push his arm off, making him grow rigid. You shake your head and kiss his lips. You did like the way he was stretching you out, but that was not enough.
Otto's actions slowly grow reluctant because of your head shake. You dive your hands into your skirts and sigh softly, "need you now, Otto."
He immediately perks, in more ways than one, and helps you as you grab onto his pants.
The moment he is free, you feel your cunt clench and your mouth water at the sight of his throbbing cock.
You waste no time and quickly lift yourself up and mount him through a strangled breath.
He spirals with a string of veneration, praising the Mother for the glorious feeling of your soaking heat. He grips your hips for dear life as you slowly begin to fuck yourself on him. Holy, holy, holy.
"Do I feel good, Otto?"
Otto grunts and tightens his old on him, helping you with your bouncing, "so good, my queen. So good, my love."
You whimper at the sound of his endearment. You bite your lip and grab his face, forcing him to look at you. You heavily pant, "you going to fuck me good in front of Mother?"
His eyes widen then dart away from your momentarily. He does not respond.
You do not like that.
You clench your jaw and bring your thumbs to his parted mouth. You dig your fingers into his teeth and push his jaw down, "I asked you a question, boy," you heave, "will dare ignore your queen?"
Otto lets out a guttural noise at the sound of your words and chokes when he feels clenching around him. He breathlessly responds the moment you pull your thumbs out of his mouth, "no, my queen."
You let out a grunt when he begins to match your movements with upward thrusts. You drag out a prolonged exhale and rub your nose against his, "then what, you sycophant?"
He heaves.
"What will you do to me, church boy?"
Otto growls and digs his fingers into your waist. He digs his heels into the floor, allowing him to ram himself into you with more ease and viciousness. The squeaks and yelps that leave your throat adds further fuel to the flames into his body. He attaches his teeth to your neck and bites down. He hotly speaks against you, "I'm going to fuck you good in front of Mother."
You moan and throw your head back as his movements begin to grow more erratic that your own. Otto yanks at the neckline of your dress and claws at your breasts that threaten to spill out. He hungrily stuffs his face into that spot. As he does so, he unintentionally breaks off the gold chain on your neck and the thing trickles down your cleavage.
Otto pull away tp stick his fingers into your top and fishes for the thing. You you take his face and push him back into your chest. He brings his hands underneath your skirt and squeezes your bare thighs.
"I'm close, Otto," you whine, finally finding his tempo as you maneuvered over him.
Otto licks the skin from your sternum up to your collarbone, then kisses all the way up to your jaw, " 'm fucking you good enough then."
You groan and dig your hands into his hair . You pull at his brown locks as you sigh, "so good."
When he comes, he says a rough prayer of thanks to the Seven under his breath. The feel of his spilling into you and the sight of his rolled eyes, paired with the sound of his prayer was so twistedly delicious that you come a few second later.
"Vaogenka līve," you whimper as you continue to ride your high, "ao rattan bisa tolī olvie." Dirty whore, you liked this too much.
Otto does not stop in his movements, as the overachiever he was, though it was quickly beginning to be painful for him. He literally pushes through it and only stops until you begin to squirm. Even then he makes it a point to roughly flick his hips before finally stopping to catch his breath.
You go jelly against him and defeatedly lean into his chest as you even your heavy pants.
Otto rubs your thighs and nestles his face against yours, relishing the feel of your heartbeat.
You brush his hair away and kiss his ear, "what would your gods say about the sinful acts you've been doing in their temple with the princess?"
Otto kneads at your thighs and it is only then that you feel there is something in his clutch. He huffs, "my faithful servant is a man of duty," he looks upon your face, "he is most loyal to the crown and has gone to great lengths to assure it's... contentment."
Your lips curve into a smile, "great lengths, you say."
Otto leans in and nips at your lip, "a humble length."
You giggle, and as does he. He cannot help but moan at the feel of your clenching around him because of it. He then pulls his hands out of your skirt and wraps his arms around you.
"I broke off your necklace, princess," he mutters through a kiss on your neck.
You hum, "I think that is treason."
Otto bites at your neck, "and what is your sentence?"
You moan at the feel of his tongue on your pulse. You comb through his hair, "mmm, fuck me good in front of the Father."
His laugh echoes across the room. The feel of his amusement vibrating into your core begins to excite you all over again.
"Filthy girl," he whispers.
"You're worse than I," you retort.
"Mmm," he pushes your hair back and takes in the shimmer of your face, "then I ought to replace your necklace only to be able to rip it off you again when I make you come in the shrine of the Father."
You give him a wicked smile and shake your head, "see... you're worse than me."
"Well, I learned from the worst," he kisses your shoulder.
"One of the first issues King Viserys took up when he ascended was that his twin sister. Many frowned upon the fact she was inching past the age where a well-bred lady ought to be married, and yet still went off on tours with her dragon mount. It was no secret the princess was a free spirit. Beyond her renowned and well-documented travels across Westeros and beyond, it is said she left trails of broken hearts and longing lovers, all willing to offer their inheritance and very souls in exchange for her hand. Many a man came to contend for the honor of being her husband, but there were less than a few that were even considered. In the end, her only real prospects were Otto Hightower, the hand of the king, Daemon Targaryen, the brother of the king, and Viserys Targaryen, the king himself." --Excerpt from 'Chapter 3: The Fanged Beauty' of 'The Lone Woman of Citadel' by Grand Maester Mateos, 354 A.C.
Daemon was ignoring you.
He was choosing to ignore you.
It was not a coincidence, it was an active choice.
Perhaps it was believable the first few times that, when you walked in a room, he was leaving, but then the days passed and you made attempts to seek your brother out. You called to him only to be shunned.
You were set to leave again, soon. Daemon knew this. He found no point in facing you if you would leave him all over again.
Yet things after this would happen so quickly. Your grandfather would order you to stay for the proclamation of his heir, he would pass come days later, and your twin would then be named king, your younger brother, his heir.
You thought that the rift between you and Daemon would ultimately repair itself as it did before, but he was difficult with everyone, with you especially. Now it's come to a point where you no longer speak, you only argue.
And now, there was a storm between you, both real and not.
The hour grows late and the rain has become more brutal. You waited by the keep's entrance for your younger brother that had left early morning and yet still has not arrived. With every roll of thunder, you grew increasingly worried.
"We will bring him back, your grace," Ser Harrold Westerling assures you for the hundredth time, ceaselessly patient with you.
You clench your jaw and nod as you pace around, "Caraxes would be in more unrest if something had happened to his rider, but he is calm in his pit, so I am calm."
Ser Harrols sighs at your words. A disingenous and unconvincing sentiment.
You say this mostly for yourself but still, the commander of the kingsguard nods, "aye."
You huff and nod as you pace around some more. A crack of lightening makes you begin to worry now for the guards that have been deployed to look for the heir apparent. You suck in a breath and take Ser Harrold's arm, "what if something happened to your men? Dear gods, I wou-"
"My men are capable of caring for themselves, princess," he speaks calmly, placing a hand atop on your own. You nod rapidly at his words and pull away from him. He catches your arm before you do, "your grace."
You turn back to him.
"Pardon me, but it has been hours since you've been pacing."
You give him a guilty expression, "yes... Forgive me, ser Harrold. You may leave if--"
"Perhaps you ought to sit-"
His words are cut off by the sound of the gates opening. You both look to the door in anticipation. In comes a wet prince, dripping in rain water from head to toe.
"Gods be good," Ser Harrold speaks as you pull away from him and rush towards Daemon.
Expecting him to come in soaking, you grab the towel you had prepared and immediately wipe his face, "skoriot se qogralbar emagon ao issare?" Where the fuck have you been?
Daemon stills as he looks you. He lets you wipe his soaked face and hair for a few seconds before he rips the towel away from you and throws it off to a distance.
You turn to where he discards the item and Daemon walks away from you.
"Ȳdra daor geron qrīdrughagon hen nyke," you seethe under your breath. He does not stop. You snap, repeating much louder, "DON'T WALK AWAY FROM ME!"
Ser Harrold watches as the prince stops in his tracks. He watches as Daemon heaves heavily as his sister walks up from behind him. He knows this will be a long and brutal sermon.
"Emā daor paktot naejot gaomagon bisa, valītsos," you hiss as you march in front of him, "ao daor gaomagon daor sytilībagon naejot aōla. Iksā dārilaros naejot se Dēmalion Āegenko."
You have no right to do this, boy. You no do not belong to yourself. You are heir to the Iron Throne
Daemon's soaked hair sticks to the side of his face. Rain water drips to the floor as he laughs at your words. He steps forward and snatches your arms, yanking you into him.
Your clothes immediately absorb the water in his. His angry breath fans against your face, "pār gaomagon daor vēdros nyke, iā eminna ao ilzitan hen."
Then do not anger me, or I will have you thrown out.
Your expression drops upon hearing this. You are at a loss for words at his blazing admission.
Daemon shoves you off and walks past you; your shoulders collide with each other as he storms off. You gulp heavily as you watch him leave puddles of murky water behind. There is an ominous crack of thunder.
"Then I'll save you the trouble and leave on the morrow," you call out as your eyes begin to mimic the weather. "It is clear now that any effort on my part to make peace with you will be put to shit."
Daemon halts. His boots skin as he turns, "you've made no such effort."
You laugh loudly and throw your arms out, "then what the fuck am I doing now?!"
"You are caring for the heir to the throne," Daemon barks and raises an accusing finger, marching back to you.
Your face twists at his words and you scream through a hurt expression, "AND WHO IS THE HEIR, BROTHER?!" You meet him halfway and grab him by the collar "is it not you, Daemon Targaryen?" you shove him off, "does it appear as though I care not for you?!"
"I don't WANT your mothering!" he blares, grabbing your cheeks, "I do not want you to look at me with those-" he drops his head, "those eyes that scorch my--" he catches sight of the jewel on your neck. He clenches his jaw tightly at the wretched emerald and rips it off you, casting it off to the end of the hall.
At this point, Ser Harrold cannot keep still nor silent. He steps forward and warns, "Prince Daemon!"
You recoil at his actions, hands coming to your now bare décolletage.
Daemon fumes, "that lecherous cunt is pushing his luck," he shakes with anger, "I will have his head on a spike if he deigns your form with cheap bribes again."
You hate that he is evading the real argument all over again, "do not change-"
"I do not know why you enjoy his company. He is a spineless, ugly fuck that-"
"Is that all you have to say to me, Daemon?!" you seethe, shaking your head in disbelief, "you only want to pick a fight over a man who has been kind to me while you have been cruel?"
Daemon takes those words like a stake to the heart.
"Don't you want to get whatever it is that has gotten your cock so far up your arse out?" you shudder as anger spills out of you in a form of tears.
The prince vibrates in anger.
"Hen rhinka ao gīmigon skoros ziry iksos hae naejot emagon someone's orvorta bē aōha gundja," Daemon retaliates, "ao ivestragī mirre vaoreznuni qogralbar emagon iā jikagon rȳ aōha orvorta
Of course you know what it's like to have someone's cock up your ass. You would let any sorry fuck have a go at your cunt.
You release a dry chuckle. Tears of hate burn down your eyes, "so you resolve to framing me into whore? When you and Viserys have been whoring around in brothels sinc-"
"You are a whore," he quips loudly.
You pull your head back and your expression drops. There were suddenly no more tears left for him. "Then very well, my prince. I am a whore," you agree, "but I will no longer be fucked over by you."
Needless to say, the rift between you two was greater now more than ever.
Otto, who had been watching you from the mezzanine near the gates the whole time you waited for your boorish brother, heads for your chambers as you walk away from your brother.
You freeze when you see him standing by your door. Immediately, you run into arms and crumble into his chest.
He grunts and strokes your hair, leading you into your room, sitting you on your bed.
Otto cannot help himself and says, "the king is being pressured by the council to remedy your brother's disruptive behavior as of late. Hear me when I say I will have him relocated somewhere out of sight and out of mind."
You pull away from him and look at him through teary eyes. He wipes your cheeks, "I'll have him married off to someone in the farthest corner of the realm. The burden of him will no longer be your own."
You sigh and lean into his touch, "save yourself the bother. I will leave come day break and continue my travels across the realm."
You bring his hands to your lap, "I only stayed because the late king asked me to. I stayed to witness the anointment of my beloved half as ruler. I stayed to make things better with Daemon. And, now, I have done all that I must and could, so... I will away."
Otto does not like this. He does not like this idea at all.
He tightens his grip on your hands when you make an attempt to stand, "I cannot stomach the thought of you leaving and myself doing nothing about your insolent brother."
You watch how his face hardens, how he is unable to withhold the lines that tighten around his features. You release a sigh and shake your head, "cast your concerns for my brother aside. I do not need you to avenge me."
His brows furrow furiously, "he is an insipid man-child who enjoys spitting on his older sister that does more for him than he will ever know. I will not let him go unpunished."
You tick at his words.
You release his hands. Your expression goes blank as you stand and peer down upon him, "hear me when I say this, Otto Hightower. If you harm a single a hair on my brother's head, I will never forget it," you mutter as you take his chin between your fingers.
Your words are soft spoken and monotonous, yet Otto feels his body grow rigid with uneasiness.
"A confidant can be quickly chosen, a suitor can be found in the streets, a lover can be made in an evening. I may well be wed to many different men in my lifetime, should they meet tragic ends, and, yes, I will never cease to mourn the death of any of my children," you release your grip on him, "but, the truth is, they too can all be replaced."
Otto watches as you raise your brows, "who then, however, can grow me another brother?"
You clench you jaw and await his response.
He does say anything or move.
You've made your point crystal clear.
"So, I say even plainly, my lord," you articulate, "you will not harm my brother for my sake."
He rises to his feet and nods in respect, "as you command, my princess."
You nod once. He turns back to you, watching the fire in you cool.
You take his face, brush his hair back, and offer a small smile, "the hour is late. I must rise early tomorrow if I wish to leave with no further troubles." You give his cheek one last touch before pulling away.
Otto does not let you. He pulls you towards him, hands coming to your sides. He breathes heavily as he surveys your face. You knit your brows at him in concern.
"I do not wish to see you off."
You release a chuckle, "then you do not have to. Sleep in and-"
"Do not leave," he sighs.
You purse your lips at his words then place your hands on his chest. A small smirk places on your face, "and who are you to order me?"
"Lord Hand," he mutters, "I outrank you."
I break into a laugh, "do you now? You are but a lewd little church boy to me, Otto."
"Then I will outrank you," he whispers as he leans closer, "I will ask the king for your hand and make you a Hightower..." he runs the back of his hand down my neck, "my Lady Hightower"
You snort loudly, "oh, he's gotten it twisted," you coo, "I would still not be outranked if you managed that, you candlestick."
Otto feels the corner of his lips twitch into a soft smile as youbreak into a fit of giggles. He leans down to kiss you jaw, "but then you would no longer find it in you to leave your poor husband by himself, now would you?"
Your stomach flutters as he begins to kiss your neck.
When you begin to undo his buttons, he pulls away, "we will not continue if you do not swear to me you'll stay."
Your expression slips into shock. You break into a breathy laugh. "Iksā iā vaogenka valītsos." You are a dirty boy. You pull at his belt, forcing him into you, "a scheming viper in the grass."
Otto peers down as you undo his collar. He brings his hands to your back begins to work on the laces of your dress. He kisses your shoulder, "I take this as agreement." His lips travel to the base of your neck where he realizes that you were bare of any of the jewels he gifted you.
He bites down on you and speaks hotly, "my hands will make a pretty necklace, don't you think?"
You let out a lewd noise, "you better make my stay here worthwhile."
Otto shoves you onto your bed. Your heart races at the sight of his rabid expression.
Later that day, during the council meeting, the issue of your courtship was brought up, as it has been since the moment Viserys was crowned king.
The king made it known once before that he was set on allowing you to chose your match; he owed it to you, as his beloved sister. It was a sweet sentiment no one at all cared for. Still, Viserys said that if he was allowed to wed who he wanted, then he would assure the same for his twin. At least this is what he told the council members.
None but he, and mayhap Queen Aemma, knew his true intentions. He was waiting upon your decision to become his second wife. True, you had turned him down many times over, but he knew that no one could match the flame of a Targaryen better than another Targaryen.
Daemon knew this too.
Daemon knew that no man could survive the ferocity of your fire. And he understood suddenly ,as an old fuck on the council droned over potential matches, why you never wanted to marry Viserys though you gave him so much.
He was weak.
Daemon watched as Viserys smiled pleasantly at the sagging fuck through his horrible attempt at selling his son to him as a potential match for you. If it were him, he wouldn't have let him speak as long as he did.
And even now, Viserys heard out the qualms of another Lord, because this was his nature. He went through at the politicking because he lacked the balls to exercise his soverignity.
The prince was certain you recognized this in your twin. This was why you let him have your maidenhead but not your hand. Rest assured, you will recognize nothing of the sort in him.
Daemon slams his hand on the table, making the room go silent as all eyes turned to him.
Viserys looks darkly upon his brother.
Otto turns to him, wanting nothing more than to press his boot upon his throat and put him in his place. So he does the latter, "have you lost all sense of decorum and self, prince Daemon?"
Daemon whips his head to Otto and narrows his eyes as they twitch, "the fuck did you just say to me?"
"Not only did you interrupt Lord Awyen, but you have, yet again, disrespected the king with your thoughtlessness."
Daemon jolts out of his chair and angrily growls, "you fucking cunt-"
Viserys barks, "Daemon!"
The kingsguard begin to press forward.
Daemon slams his hand on the table again and points at the Hightower cunt, "I am saving him the seconds he will never get again," he turns to his brother, "we all know that you will not consider any of these fucks' dimwitted sons," he looks out to the rest of the men, "nor will the princess even spare them a moment's glance."
It became quite apparent quite quickly to Otto where Daemon was taking this conversation. He will not let him have the final say.
"I am her only real match, brother," Daemon says, confirming Otto's thoughts, making the other men at the table mumble under their breaths. He turns to Viserys. "I am the only one who can honor her in a way that is-"
"Honor her?" Otto scoffs, shoulders stiffened with ire, "my prince, are you not the same man who has ceaselessly been coaxing your sister into tears whenever you have the misfortune to cross paths?"
Steam nearly whistles out of Daemon's ears. He lets out high pitched chuckle, "and you really think that all the fancy collars you've given her has made her into your bitch?"
"DAEMON!" Viserys fumes.
"If you think for a second, mutt," Daemon begins to circle around the room, "that I would let my sister end up with a slobbering-" the kingsguard come upon him, holding back before he can come close enough to strike Otto, "-pathetic excuse for a m-"
"Fucking get him out of here!" Viserys barks.
Daemon fights out of the arms of two guards' who have him apprehended, "fucking LET ME GO!"
They do not and hauls him out of the room.
Otto looks out in as Daemon wrangles and growls. Viserys releases a deep breath and thinks about how he would really rather not have to tell you this happened.
And he doesn't, because before Daemon is even released by the kingsguard back to his chambers, the servants have already whispered about the incident each other and your trusted handmaiden informed you promptly what happened as you visited Alaerion in the pit.
You didn't even need to seek Daemon out this time, because the next thing you knew, he was marching over to you as you brought your dragon back in. Alaerion's screech is what makes you realize he was here.
You turn away from her and see your distraught brother marching over.
"Daemon, wh-"
"Iksan ēdrugī hen umbagon. Kesā dōrī ūndegon, sīr kesan urnēptre ao nykēla," he heaves as he walks over. You pull away from your large mount and walk towards the prince as he continues, "tolvie ñāqatubis ao zālagon nyke lēda aōha laehurlion. Ao jurnegon rȳ nyke yn gaomā daor ūndegon nyke."
I'm tired of the wait. You will never see, so I will show you myself. Every morning you burn me with your face. You look at me but you do not see me.
Daemon grabs your wrists and pulls you toward him, "I have not been a boy for years. You will no longer treat me like one."
Alaerion begins to circle around the two of you. She roars for attention, but neither of you give it to her. She shakes her head and cranes her dark hued neck up, looking down upon you both.
His hard gaze dig into the internal wounds that he had just inflicted. You suck in a breath and yank out of his grip, "then do not act like a child around me."
Alaerion goes on the defensive when you shove Daemon back. She may be fond of him, but she would not hesitate to protect her rider.
You raise a hand at your dragon as she hisses, "arlī bē." Back up.
Alaerion begrudgingly obeys.
You watch as she lies down but keeps a close watch on the two of you. You turn back to your brother, who looks like he had suffered horrible whiplash, "ziry iksos iā doru-borto hen ao naejot vīlībagon nyke isse naejon hen Alaerion."
It's a stupid of you to fight me in front of Alaerion.
Daemon shakes his head, "I'm not trying to fight-"
"Then WHAT do you want from me?!" you throw your hands out in question.
"I WANT YOU!" Daemon bursts with frustration.
You freeze in your spot as he steps forward and grabs your face. His breath hitches, "I want you to see me for what I am!" His hands drag down to your neck, "and I am a man with needs," your hands grab onto his top, "with wants," he heaves, "with desires."
"Daemon-"
He shuts you up with a kiss. He is done wasting time. The time is now. He has to have you.
You are shocked by the kiss. You are shocked by how hungry it is. You are shocked how wonderfully his lips fit against yours. You are shocked by how easily you mold against him.
Daemon feels his stomach flurry as he brings his hands to your side and digs his fingers into your dress. Your own hands come to his nape and tug at the roots of his long hair.
He breaks away from you to whisper against your cheek, "you will no longer scorn me. And you will not refuse me."
You let out a yelp when Daemon bends and pulls your skirt up. He drops on his knees and scratches up your legs, nails intent on leaving their mark, "I have made it known to the old fucks at the council that no man is worthy of you."
He brings himself under your and sinks his teeth to your thigh, "none but me, sweet sister."
You moan out his name, as you feel his hands slowly knead their way up to your hips. You snap out of the rabid trance you were being pulled into because of Alaerion's loud huff.
"My love, the doors are wide open, someone could-"
"Ivestragī zirȳ ūndegon," Daemon cuts you off and suddenly rises to his feet. He looks out of breath and starved. He takes your shoulders and shudders, "ivestragī zirȳ ūndegon bona ao sytilībagon naejot nyke."
Let them see. Let them see that you belong to me.
Daemon shoves you down, bringing you to your hands and knees. You look back at him as he undoes his breeches. You turn away and gulp. You try to calm yourself but the thought of someone walking in on you, added to the fact you could hear the prince ripping at his trousers, was making your insides burn.
He gets on his knees, rips your skirt up, and hisses at the sight before him. He immediately grabs your thighs and rips you apart. He wanted nothing but to taste your sweet building slick, but he has to claim you now. His fingers find your entrance. He lets out a grunt as he toys with you with two fingers while his other hand continues to free his steadily hardening cock.
You let out a shaky moan as Daemon circles his thick fingers around your tender flesh. Your jaw drops and you shoes dig into the floor when two digits shallowly enter you.
"I've gotten much practice," Daemon mutters, "learned everything for you," he mutters, "want to touch you better than Viserys."
Your heart drops at his words. Your head whips over your shoulder. Just then, Daemon pulls his hand away from your core and looks at you. His eyes darken and he grabs your hair, effectively ruining your braids. He brings his glimmering fingers to your lips. You have no shame, or at least not in that moment, and you instantly suck on him, tasting yourself on him.
""Nyke pendagon nūmāzma bona tubis nyke ūndan ao lanta mirre se jēda," he huffs as he ruts against you, "sesīr skori nyke ȳdra daor jaelagon naejot."
I think about the day I saw you two all the time. Even when I don't want to.
Your let out a loud sound when he unceremoniously thrusts into you and yet he does do anything beyond gripping your hips tightly.
Daemon rubs at your fleshy backside and releases a string of High Valyrian curses as you feel yourself clench around him. He acts in retaliation of his hated sour memory, shoving into you only once out of spite, making you release a cry that echoes across the room.
A few more moments pass and, still, he does nothing, you bring one hand to your side and place it atop of his knuckles. You arch your back and begin to maneuver against him faintly, "my love," you speak in a wanton manner, "please move."
Daemon's face contorts.
You squeak when he slaps into you once more then stops again. Without another warning, he further ruins your hair with his careless grip and then begins to fuck into you like there's no tomorrow. In truth, they may well not be one for him if someone catches you and Viserys' anger is inspired.
You feel your neck crack as Daemon yanks your hair. At the same time, you let out a guttural cry that bounces across the room. This is finally enough to rouse your dragon with concern.
Alaerion stirs and lifts her long neck, looking down upon her rider as she is mounted from behind. The creature knew well enough what was happening, and she happened to like Daemon, which was why she watched for a second before letting out a bleat, along with smoke through her nostrils.
You really don't have the sense to speak to your ride, much less make any sound that was remotely intelligible, so you effectively ignore her as you feel a pressure in your belly build.
Daemon releases your hair, making your head drop and shake in relation to the his ministrations.
Gathering his strength, he hoists your hips up slightly, making your shift your weight on your fidgeting toes. This allows him to rip into upward and in doing so, hits a needy little nerve in you that makes you release a helpless cry every moment it is hit.
You call out Daemon's name in response, arms shaking through its attempts to keep you up.
"You like being fucked by your brothers, don't you?" he sighs through his brutish actions, "you wanted to be filled up so bad that you couldn't wait for me to take my place in you."
You don't respond with anything coherent. You feel dribble slip down through your open mouth.
Your limbs begin to tire, and your belly begins to grow tighter and hotter. You focus on the feeling building in your stomach and make yourself go wild at the thought of the prince filling you up with his seed. You release a moan but it rips into a yelp when he slaps your ass then yanks at your hair again.
You nearly choke on your spit. You begin to beg to him in High Valyrian.
Alaerion catches this and finds no more tolerance. She begins to growl.
Daemon chuckles as he leans in to you, "your dragon has issue with her master being bred roughly," he nips at your lobe, "tell her off."
You whine.
Rather desperately and unconvincingly, you order Alaerion to back up and calm down. You know for a fact that the sound she made was one that was dissatisfied with the order, and yet she forces herself to calm and decides to curl into herself.
Daemon reaches his breaking point, and moves as ruggedly and as quickly as he possibly could. He elicits another yelp out of you when he slaps you again, "udligon ñuha másino." Answer my question.
You're lucky to even know what the hell he is talking about, so with a loud gulp you let out a strangled answer, "kessa." Yes.
Daemon growls, "which brother?"
You whine, "ao, Daemon," you sigh as he pummels into you, "sīr sȳz." You, Daemon. So good.
And as though that was the trigger, you bounce against him some more and then you come so good around him that it squeezes the air out of you and makes your eyes roll back.
You continuously call out his name as he sequentially spurts out with burning ripples of him. He makes sure you are shivering and overstimulated, and that he, himself, was fully done for before slowing and eventually stopping.
Daemon catches his breath as he rubs the fleshy part of your backside. You can feel yourself twitch around him as he does so, and you so badly wanted nothing more than to hold him right now.
"I've imagine doing this so many times, my princess," he mutters through a breath and stops his rubbing motions, "I've imagined making you mine more times than I can count."
You hiss when you feel him slide out of you. Sequentially, you feel his orgasm drip for your convulsing womanhood. Daemon uses a gentle touch as he brings your skirt down and slowly gets to his knees. He quickly puts his softened self away but makes sure to help you to your feet before doing anything more. You sluggishly move to stand and take his hand as he reaches out to you.
Daemon tugs you into him and looks upon you with solemn eyes. He brushes your hair back and you look at him then his undone laces. You find yourself smiling as you reach for his pants whilst feeling a hot bead burn down the inner part of your legs.
You happily tug at the string of his trousers and tie them up for him. You cannot help the playful expression that spreads across your faces as he makes attempts at smoothing your hair out.
You look at his face once, catching the concerned line between his brows. You turn back to his waist as you finish tying the strings, "do I look utter ruined, sweet boy?"
Daemon releases a breath. His hands come to your neck, his thumbs rub at your collarbones. You lean into his touch as your lips curl into a brighter smile.
"Ao jurnegon hae ñuha māzīlarion," he retorts, taking one step forward, face leaning close to yours, "nyke zālagon syt ao." You look like my future. I burn for you.
Your breath hitches when he places a gracious kiss upon. Daemon is warm and gentle as he leads your lips through this dance. You reach out for his torso and let yourself drift through the feel of his warm mouth.
"Nyke ānogrosa nehugon syt ao," Daemon whispers as he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. He takes your hands and places it upon his chest, "iksā mirre nyke jeldan, mandia." I bleed for you. You are all I ever wanted, sister.
You feel your stomach roll, "ñuha Daemon." My Daemon.
"Take me as your husband," he retorts, pulling away to look you straight in the eyes, "I would honor you better than any man could. I would smite all that wrong you. I would fly across the realms with you. I would clear the way of anything that hinder you. I would father your dragonlings. I would teach them the pride of our house," he shakes his head, "I would have you till my dying breath... if you'll have me."
You cannot help the tears that begin to fog your vision. You pull you hands from him to clutch his jaw and rub it lovingly, "oh, Daemon," you let out a soft chuckle, "you have always been the most important person in my life. I would give you the world if you asked it of me," you curl your lips into a smirk, "and now I can put to rest all my worries for your betrothal."
Daemon breaks into a smile. He chuckles softly. He wraps his arms around you and presses you tightly against him, "not all your worries. You will still need to plan it."
You laugh as he kisses your neck. You relax against him and dig your fingers into his nape, massaging the area gently, "you would let me fuss about it all by myself?"
"I nary care for the formalities," he mutters against you, "I'd wed you in the gutters and still be the happiest man alive."
You snort and push him away. You give him a look as he tucks hair behind your ear, "we are not going to be wed in the gutters, Daemon."
"Of course not," he raises his brows, "I will not allow such offence be made to my bride."
You find your stomach fluttering at his words, "your bride."
Daemon's face grows solemn all over again. He rubs your lips, "my bride."
You smile at him and nod decidedly, "I will speak with Viserys about this and promptly begin preparations."
Though the words should have made him overjoyed, the prince felt a pang of dread rip through him as he heard them. Daemon clenches his jaw, "I should speak to him. It is only right I implore brother for you hand."
You take in his expression and find yourself chuckling softly, "you fought with him, didn't you?"
Daemon does not retort.
You laugh louder and shake your head, "then do not further inspire his fury, my love," you smooth out his hair, "let me do the talking. After all, he will not refuse me."
Daemon places his hands atop yours, causing you to still your actions, "he may not refuse you but he may want to spite me."
"Daemon," you sigh, "Viserys may be difficult, with you especially, but he means be out of love," you kiss his nose, "leave your worries to sissy."
Daemon sighs then nods. He sinks his head do your shoulder and you pull him close. He kisses your skin and thinks he belongs here. He belongs against your ribs.
Alaerion rolls over.
"Prince Daemon, though adopted many infamous names, would notably be remembered for overcoming what would be known as the Four Horrid Tasks, issued by his older brother in exchange for their sister's hand. King Viserys' had always been extremely fond and protective of his twin. He made clear many times over that she would wed whom she chose. Yet through constant pressure, in the end, he made a proclamation for all those interested in her: 'He who be daring and gallant enough to accomplish but four tasks for the king, Viserys of House Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, will be allowed to take the princess, the King's twin and younger sister, as his wife.' It is heavily debated whether or not the decision was made to silence the voices of the council from further pestering him with the matter of the princess' hand, or to dissuade his younger brother into pursuing their beloved sister any further."--Excerpt from 'Daemon Targaryen: A Prince Larger Than Life' by unknown author, circa 100-120 A.C.
Daemon took deep breathes and sure strides on his way to his brother's chambers.
Yes, you told him to leave it up to you, but he could not find it in him not to speak to Viserys about the matter.
The events at the dragon pit yesterday were clear in his mind. He could still hear your cries, feel your soft flesh, taste the tenderness of your words.
He knew, truly, that if it was the issue was of your hand, you were the only one who the king would ever listen to its regards. And yet even after hearing from both guards and servants alike that King Viserys made it known he would not be interrupted in his room or bothered with any royal matters for today, he pressed forward still and now stood before his brother's chamber doors.
The prince decided to knock and announce himself, which was honestly not his nature.
He waited for a few moments, listening in for a response, before raising his knuckles to rap on the door again. He does not though, as he hears the sound of a whimper seep through the crevice before him. Daemon straightens as a high pitched voice continues to whine. It was very obviously not Viserys making that sound, and somehow, he was certain that was not Aemma either.
He clenches his jaw, it was you.
"Enter," the king barks.
Daemon wastes no time and pushes the door open. He makes it a point to keep his eyes down and only look up once the door was closed behind him. When he does, he feels his insides gurgle at the sight of his twin siblings.
Lo and behold, there sat the King at the edge of his bed, chest bare, hands rested upon on his lap, or rather, the lap rested upon him. You were sat on Viserys, lips parted as you heaved heavily, clad in nothing but your shift. To make matters worse, your clothes were bunched up by your hips and Viserys' hand was unabashedly in between your thighs.
Daemon wouldn't know that your fluttering cunt was filled up with his brother's seed and your ass with filled up by his cock up until later.
He could clearly see how his brother was touching you with his fingers, evident by the strain in his arm and how you would slightly flinch intermittently.
"So, baby brother," he starts, "you caught me fucking sissy once before, huh?"
Daemon neither moves nor responds.
Viserys keeps his eyes on him as he nuzzles his face into your neck and makes you whimper by shoving his fingers into your leaking entrance with little regard, merely keeping them there. You grip on his arm and mutter his name out in a plea.
The king does not like that and looks at you as he thrusts upward, making you squeak helplessly, "funny that now you remember my name now, whore."
Daemon's nostrils flare at the crude name you're given.
Viserys turns back to Daemon as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder. He enjoys watching his brother's face tick at the sight of him sullying the woman he wants to make his wife. He pulls his mouth off you and speaks to the prince, "you remember when I first took you to a whorehouse, Daemon?"
In truth, Daemon doesn't want to reply, but he decides that he probably should, "yes."
"If the princess wasn't born a princess, she would've be the best whore in the Street of Silk," Viserys turns back to you, "iksis bona daor paktot?" Is that not right?"
"Paktot," Right, you reply like clockwork.
Viserys releases a groan that bubbles into a laugh, "my poor girl is so desperate to come, isn't she?"
You let out a needy sound and arch your back against him when he begins to move his fingers inside you. One of your hands go to the side of his face and another goes atop of his working hand, urging him with gentle stroke to continue pleasuring you.
Gods be good, the sight of you coiling up against Viserys was a torturous sight. It was making Daemon's breath shorten and his insides churn. And yet, at the same time, he could feel his pulse in his pants thud strongly in reaction to what he saw.
"Do you deserve to come, byka rene?" Little slut.
You readily nod at your king's words, "kostilus." Please.
Viserys begins to feel your folds tighten against his fingers. He promptly pulls away and grabs your neck with the hand he just used to fuck you with, "I don't think you're sorry enough."
You whimper as he presses down on your airways.
Viserys then turns back to Daemon, "you know why she's here?"
Daemon watches as you let out a choking sound. He shifts uncomfortably in his spot but does not get to reply as the king answers himself.
"My pretty twin is here to convince me to give her to you," he sighs deeply, releasing his chokehold to grab one of your breasts and knead them roughly, "the gods made her the same day they made me. They molded her next to me in our mother's womb, and I molded my cock into her with a vengeance," he eyes Daemon hotly, "she belongs to me. Why would I give her to you?"
Hearing those words make you momentarily slip out of your lustful trance. You turn to Viserys and rub your nose against his cheek, "brother, please-"
"If the fuck says he wants my throne and you'd kill me in cold blood and give it to him, wouldn't you," the king seethes, flicking his hips upward, making you screech, "all he does is complain like the little boy he is and calls you cruel if you ignore him for even a second, yet you think he's worthy? Worthy to be king? Worthy of my prized half's cunny?
"He doesn't even know how much you favor him," Viserys continues through a growl and slowly stops his vicious movements. You let out a tired cry as he rubs your belly and turns to Daemon, "when he first shared a whore, brother, I immediately thought of sissy. I so badly wanted to share her with you."
Daemon watches as Viserys hands come between your thighs again. The latter explains further, "I thought she would look so pretty leaking from both holes after her brothers fuck her like the slut she was made to be-- made for us."
The prince swallows heavily.
"But no," Viserys pulls his hand away from your thighs, "she said she did not want to taint you," he scoffs out a chuckle, "as if she was unaware of the fact you were a bigger whore than both of us combined."
Daemon shifts in his spot again.
"Why don't you tell our sweet sister how much of a whore you are, Daemon," the king announces, "tell her how you made your painted whores swallow your seed and not waste a drop, for it was an honor to even have a Targaryen load in them. Tell her how you spit between their arse cheeks and made them weep as you tore through them with your cock," he turns to Daemon, "tell her how you touched yourself to the thought of us-"
He lets out a strangled breath.
"Tell her how badly you want to be me," Viserys gives a wolfish grin as he begins to rock his hips upward, making your whine, "how badly you want to fuck her with me right now."
For some reason, Daemon finds his brother's words as a trigger to step forward. He manages two steps before he realizes what he is doing and stops in his tracks.
Viserys face darkens as he stills. You whine again. He tilts his head in a beckoning manner, "take her dress off, brother."
Daemon does not know why he hesitates, but he makes up for the seconds with eager steps towards you.
Before he reaches you two, the eldest speaks up again, "you ought to know that she rather readily gave herself up to me as she mused about the idea of your marriage."
Daemon stops when he is before you. He feels himself stiffen further at the sight of your sweaty face as you turn to him.
Viserys looks up as well, "and while we were fucking, the bitch called out your name instead of mine."
Daemon cannot help the way his eyes widen at that.
"Syt sīr bōsa, nyke mirre ao kreni, se syt skoros?" he yanks you by your hair, "naejot emagon ao isse jaelagon hen orvorta hen ñuha lēkia." For so long, I kept you pleased, and for what? To have you in want of the cock of my brother?
"That's enough," Daemon rebuts.
Viserys releases your tangled hair upon hearing this and laughs. He turns to Daemon and shakes his head, "enough? Pull her dress off and you'll see how whorish she is. You'll see her leaking with me because I fucked her and didn't make her peak. You'll see her grinding down subtly cause I have her ass impaled."
So he does just that.
He pulls your dress off and sees your wet curls and thighs, painted white with the with sticky remnants of the king. You lift you hands so Daemon can rid your clothing altogether, and he quickly chucks it to the side. He licks his lips as he finally notices the miniscule circular motions you were doing on top of Viserys' lap.
The said man raises a brow, "you still want your hussy?"
Daemon does not get to respond as you are pulled back onto the bed. Viserys falls onto the sheets and drags you up, all while keeping himself snug inside you. He pushes you to your side and grabs your leg, bringing it behind you, over his hip.
You whimper as you feel come spill out of you. Your sounds intensify when Viserys grabs your breast and begins to thrust into you. He twists you carelessly as he fucks into you with little regard.
Daemon's mouth nearly foams when you raise a hand and call out for him, "jorrāelagon ao sīr olvie." Need you so much.
Viserys pants, "come one, little brother. Your come slut awaits."
Daemon can feel his hands trembling as he strips himself naked. He works as fast as he can but when he hears your cry, he decides to climb over to you although his dress shirt remained on him.
You whimper as tears prick in the corner of your eyes, reaching out to Daemon as he takes his place next to you. The said man rubs your hips and grabs his hardened length, easily slipping into your soaking folds.
You release a loud cry when you feel him enter. You scratch at his clothed back and tug at his shirt, "off, please, off-"
Daemon does not dare deny you this, and though he struggles, he eventually rids himself of his final piece of clothing. After this, he finally begins to move into you. He pumps in and out at a much slower pace than Viserys, but matches the same ferocity.
You let out quick and shallow pants at the delicious feel of fullness in you. As you were denied and teased for so long, you could feel yourself quickly reaching your peak. You arch your back and pull Daemon into you as you clench around them
Viserys, knowing your body well, grabs your neck and whispers into your ear, pushing your further to your edge, "greedy minx. Coming already? Daemon's just getting started."
You can't help that you come right after that, shuddering and shaking as you feel heat spill all over you. You feel your lungs wring out all the air inside it. It only intensifies as Viserys keeps his hands secured around your neck. Needless to say, you're seeing stars at this point.
Daemon releases a groan as he feels your cunt convulse around him. It makes him increase his tempo to a point where he's moving about as fast as his brother.
With the added roughness, your high is surely lived out up until there was nothing left. Soon enough you were squeaking helplessly, twitching at the overstimulation.
Neither of the two could keep themselves from chasing after their own need even as you very clearly began to grow tense in discomfort.
At one point, everything became all too much that you choked out a soft sob.
It was at this point that Daemon begins to relent in his ways, slowing down to offer your brief repose.
Viserys, however, was not letting you have any of that, "don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop," he grunts. "She can take it," he leans into you, "can't you pretty girl? Can't you pathetic whore?"
Daemon watches as you choke out a yes through tears and a strangled breath.
You lift your leg off Viserys and prop it atop of his hip, "want to make you feel good," your grab at Viserys' neck, "want to make both my boys feel so good."
The king loses himself after that. With merely a few more thrusts, he bursts into you and releases a hot load that has you yelping.
He tightens his grip on your neck before he releases you abruptly, grabbing onto your shoulder as he uses you to satisfy his remaining needs.
He calls out your name and tilts your head back to kiss you. You catch a quick breath before he connects your lips together. Your mouths mingle against each other's sloppily, up until you're only breathing and grunting against the other, no longer kissing.
When Viserys stills behind you, he watches as Daemon pummels into you like a man on a mission, and, to be fair, he was.
Daemon takes his turn, bringing your face to him and kisses you much tenderly than Viserys did. He grabs at your leg and pulls you closer to him as he chases the building fire in his belly.
Part of the king knows his brother was probably being held back by the position you were in, and as much as he wanted to see him suffer and to keep himself buried in your plush tush, he decides to be a magnanimous king and pulls out of you, causing you to whimper as you swollen hole oozes with his creamy delight.
Viserys rolls to his side and takes a moment before standing up and grabbing his ever ready wash cloth on his cabinet, wiping himself down as he turns to watch his brother break into his twin sister.
Immediately, Daemon has you pushed on your back, sprawled out beneath him. He wraps your legs around him and fucks into you with more vigor now that he had you all to himself.
"D-Daemon," you whimper as you wrap your arms around him, clinging onto him for dear life.
He nuzzles into your neck and mutters sweetly, "need me so badly, sweetheart?" he groans and whispers, "need me to fuck you better than Viserys?"
You whimper in response as the bed creaks at his movements.
Daemon pushes your legs down your sides and licks your tear stained cheeks, "you want to come again, love?"
You shake your head in disagreement as your poor cunny was still very much reeling from being teased too much.
He whines, "what if I want you to come, pretty girl, will you come for me?"
You sob at the idea, "Daemon please-"
"Shhh," he sneaks a finger between you, "you can do it, can't you?"
You digs your nails into his back and you scream out when he begins to rub at your sensitive pearl.
"Gōntan ñuha dārilaros daor ivestragon ziry kessa tepagon nyke mirros?" he mutters against you, "kessa ao daor tepagon nyke iā byka run hae bisa?" Did my princess not say she shall give me anything? Will you not give me a small thing like this?
Tears rush out of your eyes as you hear this, "Daemon kostilus." Daemon please.
Viserys lets out a heavy breath as he hears your whimpers. He finds himself smirking, "where's the Fanged Beauty's teeth? You can take it can't you?"
Damon groans and answer for you, "she can take it," he grunts, "take it like a good girl. Sissy's always been good at taking care of us."
You whine and let out a long breath. You allow yourself to relax against him and eventually, with all of Daemon's ministrations, you calm and feel yourself begin to tighten around him all over again.
"Gaomagon sȳrī, riñītsos, tolī mirre, iksā doing bisa syt zirȳla, daor?" Viserys speaks as he walks off to get himself a cup of wine.
Do well, little girl, after all, you are doing this for him, no?
The king sips on his drink as he watches the obscenities playing out on his bed.
Daemon feels himself fall closer to his limit. Sequentially, he no longer actually gives a shit whether or not your come with him or not, though he really wanted to feel your cunt choke him as he pushed into you.
It was a good thing that you suddenly began to pant out his name and dig your fingers into his hair, "I'm close, Daemon."
He smirks and nods, "like a good girl."
You whimper and rapidly feel yourself inching towards your undoing. The final blow is delivered after Daemon sputters out curses as he unravels above you. He releases into you with his nails digging into your sides. He twitches and shudders with the intense bolt of pleasure. It surges hot, molten, and thick. It fills you up until you're overflowing.
The sound you make is piercing. It rips through Viserys' ears, inspiring him to call you a string of vulgar names in your shared mother tongue. On the other hand, it makes Daemon hiss hotly against your neck as his ego soars while he concludes his fuck. His stiff body slowly begins to grow limp and your own terse one spasms until its putty.
By the time the prince is a melted sky above you, you catch your breath and hold onto him, as though he was your deliverer, as though he was your beloved; both of which were true after all.
Daemon buries his face next to your own and whispers sweet nothings to your ear.
You nuzzle your face against him. Slowly, your heart began to calm.
"Hen rȳ istin," Viserys pipes up, cutting through your tender moment, "ivestragī īlva ūndegon se mess emā vēttan." Off at once. Let us see the mess you have made.
The king walks over to the side of his bed and motions his head at Daemon, who barely wanted to roll off you as it was, now it was the last thing he wanted to do. Still, he looked at his brother, thinking that he had a withering cock, and gave you a quick kiss before separating from you.
Though Daemon did so in a gentle manner, you still could not help but curl your toes tightly and whimper as the weight above you shifts off. Immediately, your pulverized holes began to weep out the lustful load the two dragons left in you.
The two men cannot help the fascination and the enthrallment they feel upon seeing the way your swollenness flutters, nor, frankly, can they turn away.
Daemon does not move too far from you and, in fact, lies by your side, nuzzling his face between your breast, wrapping an arm over your side, pulling you close to him. He rubs his cheek on your skin and plays with your pert nipple.
"Filthy whore," Viserys smirks, "to think you could have had us both long ago had you not been so persistent in babying your precious baby brother."
You do not respond to him but you do begin to lightly brush through Daemon's hair. You breathe through your lips as you slowly bring your head down to look upon the youngest, "I do not regret it."
Daemon looks up at you as you mutter through a smile, "I prefer knowing him like this."
Viserys' eye twitches at this. He clenches his jaw at the sight of you both and downs the drink in his hand. He walks off to set it down and then finds himself scoffing. He feels a bitterness settle in his stomach and as he turns over his shoulder. Suddenly, a smirk spreads on his lips.
"Dirty girl," he mutters, "if you were to fall with child," he turns around, "no one would be able to tell if it was me or Daemon that fathered it."
Daemon turns to Viserys as he walks over.
"Maybe you'll bare twins like mother and then Daemon and I can share a child."
You turn to him and sit up slightly when he says this. You notice that, though his tone was mischievous, there was a serious glint in his eyes. You raise a brow at him, "don't be ridiculous."
"I am not ridiculous," he shrugs, "I am king."
Daemon immediately sits up.
Viserys raises a finger.
The two brothers stare at each other for a moment before the latter speaks, "I have heard your pleas. I will consider them kindly at the council tomorrow."
#daemon targaryen fanfic#viserys targaryen fanfic#otto hightower fanfic#house of the dragon fanfic#daemon targaryen smut#viserys targaryen smut#otto hightower smut#aemma targaryen smut#daemon smut#viserys smut#otto smut#aemma smut#daemon fanfic#viserys fanfic#aemma fanfic#daemon x reader#viserys x reader#otto x reader#aemma x reader#daemon x reader x viserys#viserys x aemma x reader#otto fanfic
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Rating movies about nazi germany I have watched
First of all, I want to make it clear that this isn't a professional review, it's only my opinion
I liked the proposal of the story being centered around a nazi family and the younger boy befriending a jew, but all of that goes down the drain due to the multiple historical inaccuracies: the children learned about nazism very early, so there is no way bruno would have been that innocent. Also, concentration camps wasn't of that much easy access. The appeal to emotion instead of actually building a deep plot also sucks. 5/10
I absolutely adored this movie, the plot is so deep, the construction around the persecution of Liesel's parents, her relationship with her adoptive parents, the brotherhood she had with the jew hiding in their house, her tough but sweet personality, her desire for knowledge. It was all so beautifully orchestrated, and also the historical accuracy>>>>>> 10/10
This movie will always be a classic for me. The way they portrayed nazis as they were, human, vulnerable, with a distorted view of the world but still seeking what they thought was the best. How they went deep down into the life in the bunker, the despair and hopelessness they felt. Also, the way they portrayed Eva Braun>>>> how she tried to sugarcoat everything not to suffer, how she threw parties in the hallway of death, how even in a desperate situation the greatest joy of her life was to marry the terrible man she fell in love with and was blindly loyal too. Everything is so heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time. Also, the historical accuracy is just a delight. 1000/10
This is a true punch in the gut. The terrible way he lost his family, the inhuman life he lived in the guetto, his part in the warsaw guetto riot, how he kept his beautiful talent immaculate till the end, when he lost the love of his life and had to see her married, the hunger, mistreating and fear that were a part of his daily life, his brave survival. Everything about this movie is truly sad. 9/10
I won't even talk much about this one. I start it laughing and finished it on the verge of crying. It is funny, heartbreaking, the perfect mix between comedy and tragedy, the true definition of bittersweetness. 100/10
Following the same road of the last one, there's this piece of art. It had everything to go wrong, but it went beautifully. They made something outrageous turn out funny without being offensive, and yet made a deep, tragic and beautiful story. The underlying romance between that ex-soldier and his assistant, the way jojo changed his mentality gradually, and his absurd view of hitler. It was surprisingly very historically accurate, but Im still confused about: how was jojo not sent to an orphanage after his mother died? How did he survive on his own? Anyways, this was a negative point for me, but still love it. 50/10
Okay, I absolutely love this one, but hate to death how they slipped over such simple aspects, like Hitler's personality. They made him hit a dog when in fact he defended animal's rights, they made him not give a shit about his mom being ill when in fact he loved her dearly. They changed his personality to make him seem even more evil. But, I also have plenty of positive points to talk about. I rarely see movies portraying Hitler's early life the way this one did, and how he ascended gradually to power. I love this miniseries deeply for getting into details about his whole life. They even aborded his abusive relationship with his niece. I can almost forgive the outrageous innacuracy with the characters and the altering of some details (how he earned his iron cross, how he met eva braun, how he treated fuschl), and I love it despite its defects. It also has some iconic scene: the bar fight, the munich beer hall putch, the trial. I wish I could give a 1000/10, but because of its innacuracies im giving it a 500/10
Nazis getting brutally slaughtered. Do I really have to say anything else? Also, Hans Landa>>>>>>>> ∞/10
#ww2 germany#austrian painter#eva braun#geli raubal#ww2#reichblr#world war 2#germany#the boy in the striped pajamas#the book thief#the pianist#inglorious basterds#the rise of evil#downfall#jojo rabbit
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Hey babes!!! I’ve been on vacay so im trying to get caught up on your post 😂 but i saw your prompt lists and i think 3 5 18 or 19 with LOTS of angst and a happy ending would be AMAZINGGGGG🫠🤍
OMG Hi Bestie!
Remember when I put this prompt list out there? I barely do! It was like 6 weeks ago, that's why! I've been AWFUL and finishing the 500 follower celebration. I got so hung up on finishing Lavender and Beskar Doll and starting Yearling and going on vacation that I still have requests from this sitting in my inbox... and I'm now at 946 followers 🫠🫠🫠
BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS REQUEST! @encephalitiskat also requested prompt number 3 and I came up with this little non-canon angsty trip outside the QZ for Doc and Joel. I hope you like it!
Lost and Found
You and Joel run into trouble on a run outside the QZ. Based on prompt 3: “I almost lost you.”
Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (Lavender pairing)
CW: Canon-typical violence. Threat of SA. Minors DNI, 18+ Only.
Length: 2.4k
You tried to avoid winter runs as much as you could. For starters, it was cold. Even after years in Boston, part of you still longed for the warm weather of your college years in Texas. At least your apartment had heat, you could curl up under your quilt with a cup of tea. Sometimes, Tommy would come over and you’d keep each other warm and the cold was suddenly inviting.
But you weren’t at home. No, you were on a run, one that Tess and Tommy had both stayed back from. Tommy had some Firefly thing to take care of, Tess had broken her arm on the last job. That left you and Joel.
Out in the cold.
Outside Boston.
And you were miserable.
“Keep up,” Joel looked over his shoulder at you, scowling, as usual. He was always fucking scowling.
“You have longer legs than me,” you were panting for breath, hot below your heavy coat in spite of the frigid air. “I don’t like being stuck out here with you any more than you like being stuck out here with me but I’d rather not get so exhausted racing through snow that we don’t make it back to Boston.”
“If we’re makin’ it back to fuckin’ Boston alive we need to move faster than you’re movin’ so keep. Up.”
You ground your teeth but tried to listen. Even though you knew you’d get your way before too long. It was going to be dark soon, the sun already low in the sky, and you were at least four hours from the QZ.
Even though that was going to mean another night on the road with Joel.
Joel, who hated you. Fucking hated you. Hated you so much that the last two nights you’d been outside the QZ he glared at you or ignored you entirely. You could feel it pouring off him, the loathing.
You’d thought you’d have gotten used to it by now. But it hurt. It hurt every single time. You’d loved him what felt like your whole life, with your whole being. Even after you found out about what he’d done before he’d come to the QZ, you loved him so damn much that you’d set it aside within yourself. It didn’t matter, none of it mattered, all that mattered was that he had made it this far alive and you could forgive almost anything if it led to that.
The hate you could take. Most of the time, anyway. The indifference, though. The total lack of anything in his eyes and on his face, like he was looking right through you, like you didn’t exist. That was worse. That alone, you thought, could kill you.
You tried not to think about it, not to linger on it. It turned your stomach to knots and sent your mind down paths you knew you should avoid, especially when you were outside the QZ and facing the threat of infected and raiders.
It made your guard low. Even when you knew you should pay close attention to Joel’s deaf side - the ear you couldn’t whisper in during the year he could tolerate your presence in the QZ - you didn’t.
Not until it was too late.
You sensed the raider a split second before you felt him, heard him, smelled him. His hand closed around your wrist and pulled you sharply to the ground, his body all but materializing out of the trees beside you, their shadows so long and dark you hadn’t seen him. You hadn’t been paying attention.
“Joel!” You shrieked as you fell. “Run!”
You had a moment where you relieved about his indifference. He’d leave you there if he didn’t care, he’d get out if he didn’t care. You weren’t stupid, you knew you were a vulnerability in situations like this. It’s why he didn’t want to take you to begin with. You dragged him, Tess and Tommy down. Tommy was stupid enough to put himself on the line to keep you safe but Joel, you were certain, would get the fuck out before he was overrun or hurt.
You were wrong.
He spun toward you, his gun raised as three other men came out from the trees. One went right for Joel from the side - when he was too busy focusing on you - and slammed into him, sending him to the ground.
The man who had you pawed at you, pulling at your pack and fumbling for your weapon in your waistband before you had a chance to go for it. He yanked your pack off and you tried to crawl away but he grabbed your ankle and yanked you back, making you shriek again.
“Such a pretty thing,” the man all but fell on top of you, knocking the air out of you. He grabbed your braid and pulled your head back, his teeth against the soft skin of your cheek. “Can think of all kinds of uses for you…”
You slammed your elbow back into him as best you could and he grunted in what sounded like a combination of shock and pain. You were able to shove him off of you and clamber to your feet to see the other three men trying to contain Joel.
You didn’t even think about it, didn’t think about the fact that it was stupid as hell, that you didn’t know how to fight worth a damn, that you’d never killed anything but infected. You just saw Joel, on the ground, overwhelmed, being hit again and again and you acted in the only way you could think to act. You launched yourself at the nearest man, your arms going around his neck until you heard him cough and gag, digging his fingers into your forearms as you clung to him for dear life. You sank your teeth into his neck and he let out a strangled yelp as he tried to dislodge you.
He stumbled back from Joel, you still wrapped around his back, when he gave up on pulling your arms free from his neck. Instead, he reached back and grabbed your shirt at the nape of your neck by the fistful with one hand, your braid with the other, ripping you up and over his shoulder and throwing you like a rag doll into a tree.
“Fucking bitch!” He was panting and you couldn’t seem to get your body to cooperate quite yet. Your head was spinning and you were trying to sit up but everything hurt, everything. You were seeing double and both versions of the man were stalking toward you, freeing the knife at his belt. “Not even worth fuckin’ but I bet your man would hate to hear you scream…”
“Don’t fucking touch her!” Joel shrieked, something unhinged in his voice. You couldn’t get your eyes to focus, everything beyond the man prowling for you jagged and unclear. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you, touch her and I’ll fuckin’ kill you!”
The man ignored him, going down on one knee next to your place on the ground like some kind of perverse proposal. He smiled and you could see the rot on his teeth.
“Maybe you are worth fuckin’,” he held the knife up. “Just to piss off your boyfriend…”
“He won’t care,” you shook your head, doing your best to scramble back from him, your body still not ready to listen after being thrown and hitting your head. “He’s not my… he won’t care, I’m not worth it, remember?”
He grabbed your hair fiercely, forcing a small yelp from you as he yanked your head back. There was blood on the snow, you realized. Your blood, from where you’d hit your head.
“Startin’ to think you are worth it,” he slid the knife over your coat, cutting it open at the zipper. “Might just need to keep you…”
You kicked and caught him on the side, making him groan and you rushed to pull yourself away as he grabbed your ankle. You could hear the struggle of Joel with the other men and your heart was pounding, the terror thrumming through you.
This was it. You’d been so busy longing for Joel you’d gotten him killed. He was going to die and you were going to end up enslaved by raiders, the exact thing he’d said would happen if you left the QZ. Joel was going to die and it was your fault.
He pulled you back toward him and he forced you onto your back before straddling your hips, his heavy weight pressing you down into the earth and you wanted it to swallow you, wanted to do anything that would make this ending different.
You barely noticed that the struggle with Joel and the other men had gone quiet when the man on you was ripped away from you. He cried out, shocked, and Joel threw him on the ground.
“Told you I’d fuckin’ kill you,” Joel panted, blood dripping from his mouth. He shot the man before he had a chance to respond.
He put the gun in his waistband before he went for you, eyes running up and down your body again and again in the seconds it took to reach you.
You were desperately trying not to panic, trying to not devolve into something that couldn’t handle itself and would just get left in the woods outside the city. You wouldn’t make it back on your own, you didn’t have the skills and you weren’t sure how badly you were hurt.
He dropped to his knees beside you, one hand going to your ribs, the other going to your face, his gloved thumb brushing your bleeding temple.
“Joel,” you couldn’t seem to keep your voice steady. You closed your eyes and forced yourself to swallow. “Joel, if you’re leaving me out here, please give me a gun at least I can’t…”
“Not leavin’ you,” he said. “Need you to tell me how to check for a concussion.”
You opened your eyes again at that, brows knitting together as you looked at him.
“What…”
“Concussion,” he repeated. “C’mon, Baby, walk me through how to check for one…”
“Um,” you had to close your eyes to focus. He was so close, he looked so afraid. “Blurred or double vision, eye strain, light sensitivity, pupils that aren’t dilating properly, eye movement, confusion and inability to focus, loss of consciousness.”
“Right, OK,” he said. He sounded afraid, too, why was he so afraid? It was Joel, it didn’t make sense for him to be this afraid. “Gotta open your eyes for me, Baby, alright? Tell me how many fingers you see, OK?”
You opened your eyes and he was holding up three fingers. You answered and he nodded, looking relieved. He used his flashlight as dusk started to fade to check your pupils. He seemed satisfied with those, too.
“Know who you are?” He asked. “Where you are? Who you’re with?” You nodded. He looked insistent. You sighed and said your name before going down the rest of the list in order.
“I’m outside the Boston QZ,” you said. “With Joel Miller… please don’t just leave me out here, Joel, I know you hate me but…”
“Don’t hate you,” he cut you off. You frowned. He ignored it. “Think you can walk? Not far from a suburb, we can find a place for the night there…”
“Yeah,” you nodded. “Yeah, I can walk.”
He pulled you to your feet and you had to lean on him for a moment to catch your balance. But when you tried to pull away, his grip on you remained. He held onto you with one hand, his gun clutched in the other, waiting for someone else to come out of the woods.
“Are you OK?” You asked, looking up at him. “There were so many of them on you and…”
“M’Fine.”
He was still holding onto you.
The suburbs Joel mentioned were close and it didn’t take long to find a house that met whatever standard Joel was looking for. You weren’t arguing. Your head was starting to swim and you were pretty sure it was because you were losing blood.
“On the counter,” Joel ordered once you were both safely inside and he’d locked everything down and closed all the curtains. He put his hands on your waist and helped you up before stepping between your legs to look at your injured head. You tried not to think about it.
“You’re gonna be OK Baby,” he said. He still sounded so worried. You frowned. Why? “Gonna get you cleaned up, patch this up…”
“Joel,” you began, but he cut you off.
“I almost lost you,” he took your head in his hand, his fingers curling around the base of your skull and around your neck as he brought his forehead to your own. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Can’t lose you, Baby, I can’t. You gotta stay with me, OK? Please, I’ll beg if I have to but you can’t leave me, not like this, OK? Don’t make me lose you, please. Can’t lose you…”
“Not going anywhere,” you said gently, chest tight. “I promise.”
He pulled back from you with a nod and went about the business of patching you up to get the bleeding at your head under control.
“Joel,” you said as he finished and he dropped his forehead to your own again, his body so close to your own. “I don’t understand…”
“I’ve been a fuckin’ idiot,” he said softly. “I’ve been so goddamn stupid. But I’m so scared, I’m so scared all the fucking time with you. Thought if I pushed you away hard enough and far enough that I could live with it but I can’t… I can’t lose you and I almost lost you and I’m done being a fuckin’ idiot with you. I know I don’t deserve it, I know you’ve got no reason to trust me at all, but… if you can find a way to let me back into your life. I don’t care how, I’ll be whatever you want me to be to you but please, don’t let me lose you. Please, Baby.”
You reached up, running your fingers through his curls, and gently pulled his lips to yours. He kissed you soft and slow and gentle and he still felt like home against your body.
“Can’t lose me, Joel,” you whispered. He nodded against you before kissing you again for a moment before you could continue. “I’m yours. Always have been, always will be.”
#fanfic#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#lavender#follower celebration
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ahem, let me redo this... (i think I did it wrong the first time) CONGRATULATIONS!!!! IM SO PROUD OF YOU!!! 500 FOLLOWERS!!?!?!?!?! star struck <3
here's the board (again...) the character i had in mind was Cole from Ninjago
(I LOVE YOU 💜💜💜💜💜💜)
AUGH OMG you're too sweet 😭😭 I love you too!!! Also.. I'm totally starstruck as well! I'm so pleased to have you all here :,)
(note: f/a = favorite (music) artist)
Word count: 1.4k
Ninjago - The Concert (Cole) (500 follower event)
“Come on Y/n, we’re going to be late!”
“You can’t be late to being early,” you protested, jogging through the halls urgently. “Where is it?”
You were looking for your jacket; it was a brand new jean jacket Cole had bought just for this concert, and you’d be darned if you left without it.
“What are you looking for?”
“The jacket… you…” You rounded a corner and came face to face with Cole, who was holding the very jacket you were looking for. Though you almost didn’t recognize it, as it had a rather radical new addition; the back was painted with f/a’s logo (or album cover, if they don’t have a logo ^^).
You slapped a hand over your mouth, partly because you were shocked, partly to stop yourself from screaming. You jumped at Cole, throwing your arms around his neck and wrapping your legs around his middle.
“Woah there!” He chuckled, fumbling with the jacket for a second before securing his arms around you. “I’ll take that as an ‘I like it’.”
“Like it?! I love it!” You gushed, squeezing him tighter. Then you let yourself drop to your feet so you could have a better look at the jacket, which Cole handed to you at last.
“Did you paint this?”
“Can you tell?”
“Yeah,” you smiled, running your fingers over the imperfect lines, “but that’s why I love it.”
Cole threw an arm around you and pulled you in to plant a quick kiss atop your head. “I’m glad. Now, we really should get going.”
“Right,” you assented, almost sad to put the jacket on because that meant you had to stop staring at it.
Cole was a seasoned concert-goer. He knew that it was best to arrive earlier than early, if not only to avoid traffic (both human and automotive), then to secure your place in the crowd. And to buy merch if the stands are open, of course.
The stadium was even bigger than you’d imagined, but as more people crowded in it seemed smaller and smaller. Soon you felt like a little brick in a huge Lego set, packed in between so many others and secured in one spot. Luckily the little brick next to you was Cole, someone you didn’t mind being this close to. You clung together, shoulder-to-shoulder, to avoid the other people surrounding you both.
The openers were pretty good, but deep down you were anxious to see your band. To be fair, you did buy the tickets to see them specifically.
And then they finally came. The sky was quite dark by then, and the stadium lights began flashing different colors. At that moment you were certain that they were about to come out. And sure enough, there they were, rocking their best clothes for the occasion on stage.
Your hand tightened into a crushing grip around Cole’s; he was doing the same, but neither of you really noticed. You shared an overexcited glance at each other that read oh my goodness it’s them!! Are you seeing this?
Bouncing eagerly on your heels, you waited in anticipation for the music to start. The speakers blared with f/a shouting a welcome to the crowd, which you and everyone around you responded to with enthusiastic yelling. It was quite noisy, but the speakers easily overpowered the noise with the first note of a song.
Time passed way too quickly. With each new song you silently wished that the moment would last forever, only to be disappointed when it ended but to have the feeling rekindled when the next song started. Suddenly they were all your favorites; though of course you went especially wild when your actual favorite number was played.
Dancing, screaming lyrics, waving your arms—it all came naturally to you, as if you were an animal transformed in the multicolored lights. Maybe there was something in the fog waterfalling off the stage; everyone else seemed to be affected in the same way. You often bumped shoulders with Cole as you both moved around, and sent endless innocent smiles to each other when you stepped on the other’s toes.
F/a ended up doing an encore of your absolute favorite song, earning a little squeal of delight from you. You hopped in the air, but instead of connecting back with the ground, your feet remained dangling in the air. You looked at Cole quizzically, hoping your question was obvious because there was no way he’d hear you talk above all the shouting and music. What are you doing?
Cole just gave you a reassuring smile, heaving you higher into the air and then onto his shoulders with a little “Hup!” that you could barely hear.
You squeezed one of his hands, which were holding your legs in place, in a thank-you gesture, but also in sheer excitement. You could see f/a better than ever from up there, and any guilt you had about blocking someone’s view was eased by the people subtly shifting around you so that they could still see. If the huge smiles on their faces were anything to go by, they were too excited themselves to even notice you. You could also see a number of other people sitting on their companions’ shoulders.
This time, when the song ended, you were in tears. You shouted the most affectionate farewell you could muster when f/a finally left the stage, and then the tears really started pouring.
Cole just held your hand while you walked to your ride, letting you get your feels out. He knew full well what it was like to lose it over music, and he actually cried a little during the concert, too.
Eventually you sniffed sharply, wiping your tears away for the last time. “That was amazing,” you laughed.
“I know! My voice is going to be so hoarse tomorrow.”
“Ugh, mine too… but it was worth it.”
“Totally.”
You hugged your jacket around you, defending yourself against the chilly night air that you were finally becoming aware of. A little smile came to your lips when you remembered what was painted on the back, and you stepped closer so that you and Cole were walking shoulder-to-shoulder.
“I’m so glad they did an encore,” you sighed dreamily, “and I’m glad you let me sit on your shoulders for it.”
Cole wrapped an arm around you, his hand coming to a comfortable rest on your upper arm. “Don’t mention it; I just knew you had to see better if they were doing an encore of that song. I know it’s your favorite.”
You smiled, putting one of your hands over Cole’s.
You two gushed about the concert the whole way home, adrenaline still running too high for either of you to be remotely tired. The sugary ice cream you made a pit stop for certainly didn’t help.
You particularly liked listening to Cole’s gushing; while you could express your joy through fast talking and blushing cheeks, he had an artistic way of describing the things he experienced through other experiences. He likened the colored lights to the taste of sour candy, compared the roaring crowd to the feeling of cannonballing into a surging, lukewarm ocean. Your eyes sparkled at each description he offered, and you found yourself agreeing with almost everything he said.
Single digits were on the microwave clock by the time either of you even started to wind down, but once the sleepiness found you, it hit hard. One minute you were drumming your fingers on the table trying to re-create your favorite bits, and the next you were fighting to keep your eyes open.
“I’m sleepy,” you yawned. “But I don’t wanna sleep yet.”
“Me neither. Let’s just chill on the couch.”
“Good idea,” you smirked, lumbering over to the couch and cozying up with Cole. You planned on gushing a little more, but the feeling of his arms around you and his warm body beneath you were like a sedative. You opened your mouth to speak, but only soft breathing came out, and suddenly all went dark.
The last thing you were aware of was the feeling of lips being pressed to the top of your head. “Love you,” Cole murmured sleepily.
“Love you too,” you slurred automatically, smiling when you remembered that your jacket was still on, still looking fabulous, still holding f/a close to you. It was just you, Cole, and f/a, drifting away to sleepy bliss together.
Tysm for taking part in our event!! And thanks for reading, take care duckies <33
(divider by saradika)
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Hi im not sure if you like him but could you do bf hcs for luna from blue lock if thats okay? Thank u
ok I think he's a side character?? Wasn't he in world five...?
Ok I'll try my best!! also I don't think I will ever do headcannons, I prefer writing stories, love. I hope that's okay with you :D
---
Bf headcannons with Leonardo Luna !
Okay, to start off, I think you two met verrryy randomly in Spain. He gives me the vibes that he likes fish very much, and so, you two met at the fish market.
I can just imagine following scenario:
Loud voices were heard, where people either yelled "Everything on slae!", "Don't you dare drop that!", "Moooom!?", and "Come here, try things out!" (->I heard that from personal experience.)
Amidst the people selling and bying, kids running around, and elders sitting somewhere and chatting, Luna went to his favourite fish shop. There, he saw a dilemma.
A pretty person, you. His cheeks took on a rosy hue the longer he stared at you, but when the seller yelled at you to scram, you yelled right back.
"My family are patrons in this shop, and never got any one of us treated that way!", you exclaimed. And in the next moment, an elder looking man stepped in, with a mean snarl towards the new employee before catching sight of you.
"____! What a surprise! How's college?!", he yelled happily as he strutted towards you to hug you. You hugged him back with a frown.
"College is good, but not that new employee you hired.", you stated, glaring at the guy. He started to sweat. Next to Luna were two elderly people who only shook their heads in dissappointment.
"It's always the same with that boy...", the first one muttered, and the other one chimed in. "Yes, the boy thinks he's so high and mighty by working here that he's forgetting his place."
Luna kept looking at the scene, also at the types of fish.
"What?! What did you do this time, boy?!", the elder man explaimed, gritting his teeth at the younger man. You looked at the boy in arrogance.
"He can't even cut the fish properly. I told him to not cut off the head, but he did anyways. He also didn't riü out the spine. And now, he wants me to pay 50 Euros for cutting a 500 gramm light fish. That is simply ridiculous and disgraceful."
"That's it, you're fired!", the elder man exclaimed. "Pack your things and leave!"
You smirked at the outraged expression of the clerk who left. "I'm so sorry, ____. He's always been a pain in the ass...and now I don't have a helping hand..."
Luna and you spoke up at the same time. "I can help!"
You looked back to the guy in surprise. "Wait, aren't you...?!", you started, thinkin, and Luna shook his head in worry.
"Ah, nevermind."
Luna let out a small breath of relief. He loved going to these markets, but he hated getting recognized. And he also loved the fact that you didn't call him out.
however, he held his breath again when the owner of the shop looked at him with a frown. "Wait...I know you...!"
"Y-yeah...?!", he asked, hoping that tha man wouldn't say anything about him bein Leonardo Luna.
"You're also freqzent visiter, aren't you?! So you should know how to cut fish as well! If not, than our ____ here can help!", the man explained, and Luna sighed again.
"Two new workers instead of one!? That would be great!", the man exclaimed again before he told you two to meet him again after giving you both your fish.
Okay, and here would be where they are getting to know each other.
"So, you love going to this fish market, but you don't like getting recognized...", you muttered, feeling sorry for almost blowing his cover.
"Yes. I really do. This market is particularly close to the ocean, so that is a huge plus when you want fresh fish."
You frowned at him. "But, do you even live here in the area? And why do you even need that job?", you asked as you were sharpening the knifes in the kitchen with him.
"I know that I am actually filthy rich, but I wanted to work somewhere else besides playing soccer. And I love fish, so I'm glad I got a little part-time job here.", he answered with a smile.
You nodded in understanding. "My name is ____ ____ by the way."
"That's a cool name! Do you actually work to pay for college, or..?"
"I got a scholarship, but my family is in slight debt. If I work here for a few weeks, then we can pay everything in no time."
...
And through the smell of fish, hands filled with blood and some of the fishes eggs (y'know these orange or black or red little balls), you and Leonardo grew closer.
You two shared some funny stories as you sold the fishes, and your harmonized teamwork made the atmosphere in the shop wonderful, making people want to visit more and more.
And then, on the last day of Luna's workday, he asked for your number. "I..I really like you, ____. And I'd like to stay in touch...", he muttered shyly.
you blushed, but you gave him your number nonetheless. "call me soon. Tell me when you're done travelling...I'm gonna miss you, you know?"
And since then, you were alone with your chef, the owner of the shop. He became like a second father to you, and he also teased you for not confessing first.
"I didn't know when the right moment was, Tio!", you exlcaimed. He only laughed. "It's never the right moment with you younglings! I'm glad he confessed though."
Suddenly, a person stepped in. It was a cold winter day, and you were still cutting the fish. "Hey ____.", Luna said as he took of the scarf which covered half his face.
"Luna..?!", you whispered. You ran towards him and hugged him, but you didn't touch him. "Sorry, I'm covered in fish...", you muttered, but Luna didn't seem to mind as he held your with fish-blood smeared face and kissed you gently.
"Finally!", the owner yelled in happiness, and the customers were surprised.
...
Long story short, Luna led you to many restaurants, flew around the world with you for a bit, and you two got together.
He was such a gentleman. Gifting you expensive looking flowers, buying you some of his merch after he saw you with a Loki Keychain (he's still pissed abt that) and overall was a very gentle lover.
When he'd be tired from work, you'd be there to cheer him up over the phone, or whenever he did a surprise visit, you'd either massage him, or cuddle with him.
He doesn't really know how somebody like you could be together with someone like him at first, because he couldn't control his usual arrogant and sacrastic self. But, it turned out that your sarcasm rivaled his and you were just as arrogant as him in certain aspects.
He loves it when you are being arrogant and sarcastic to the haters in the comments, and he always laughs when you tell him what they answered. He loves it when you comb your fingers through his blonde hair, and he always leans into your touch with a smile.
He enjoyed spending time with you, and he hopes that he can someday be more than just your boyfriend.
---
Sorry if that wasn't what you requested, because writing for side characters is actually tricky...
But it was fun to write, and I hope it was okay for you.
Read you in the next post!
#blue lock fic#blue lock#blue lock x reader#leonardo luna#luna x reader#leonardo luna x reader#blue lock x you#bllk fluff#blue lock imagines#bllk x reader#bllk x you#bllk luna
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Caged Bird and Chased Mouse
Part 2.5: The Traveler, Bird, and Eagle
A/N: OKAY I KNOW ITS BEEN A HOT MINUTE, I DONT WRITE AND HAVE BEEN READING FANFICTION AND WENT TO SEE A MUSICAL. Anyways like,,, sends me asks i need some social interactions it doesnt even have to relate to the story, once i get further into this story and have more characters you guys can request headcannon stuff! Also im basing some of the emotion stuff on my personal experience when playing these story quests.
No Warning!
Lumine is exhausted.
She’s currently resting in a room given to her by Dunyarzad, thinking over the last few days. Normally, when helping people like Tighnari, Collei, and Dunyarzad, shes fine thanks to her Creator leading her and showing her with their heavenly warmth. But without it, it has drained her of all energy, unable to give answers that once came easy to her in conversations. Paimon has filled in whenever those moments come up.
While doing Tighnari ‘quest’ (as her adventure guild book tells her, it has unique writing not like how Katheryne has written with an almost robotic font, so Lumine has chosen to assume that it was her lovely Creator), she imagined what it would’ve felt like to have her Creator lead her (her Creator was sure to cry about the poor scientist and his creation, they are such a caring and sensitive deity even for such a non-living, lifeless creature).
During the trip to the City of Sumeru, Lumine has felt a slight tug on her heart- No, her very soul. She is blindly hopeful that shes getting closer to her beloved Creator, the one thing that has been a constant in her long, long trip throughout Tevyat. Perhaps that last mark on her map was a message from her Creator, telling her where to find them, for only their most devote follower.
Lying down in the bed, Lumine has a feeling that something important is going to happen tomorrow, something that will hopefully lead her to that heavenly warmth that she has been depraved up,
Sabzeruz Festival.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
Nahida has been working hard.
She’s been doing everything in her power, in her small godly body to make sure the Sages wont take them away. She may not remember who they are but Celestia be damned if she let something so familiar and comforting be torn away from her. They’ve been asleep for weeks, almost 2 months, or 57 days to be precise (Nahida doesn’t normally like to count the days of somethings like her imprisonment but she needs to make sure they don’t somehow die or sleep for too long). She didn’t want to let go the warmth the stranger brought to her, that was so unlike the cold and sterile environment of the sanctuary she saw everyday for the past 500 years.
She’s made it so if they tried to remove the stranger from her prison, something would go wrong and mess with the Akasha so horribly that it would be down for who knows how long, and since all citizens were dependent on the Akasha, the sages weren’t willing to take that risk. Especially when their plan seems so focused on using the Akasha for.. something, something big and dangerous. So the Sages had decided to let the caged bird have her toy, for now.
Nahida cuddled up to the prone body of the stranger, wanting to feel more of the comforting warmth she felt in the dream space. She hoped they would meet again soon in the dreamscape, maybe they would do something nice like sing to her or something…
Nahida let herself sleep, and decided to pass the time until the Sabzeruz Festival came by looking at dreams, hoping that with that the stranger’s subconscious would let her in again.
She wishes she had been more greedy and have them talk more, their voice was nice.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Al Haithem is confused, yet curious.
The Sages ushered him into the Sanctuary of Surasthana, needing him to act as a scribe and record their research for an upcoming plan of theirs.
When he walked in he saw…
It was them. The stranger- no wait, Imposter if he remembered correctly (which he did) - he met months ago, the one who was incredibly suspicious yet intriguing. They gave off a form of aura, that felt… warm. He let them off the hook to see what they’d do at that time, not expecting them to be the infamous Imposter that a few Nations had warned others about. In his opinion, they looked just like the creator, but they didn’t seem malicious by any means. Only scared, as if a tiny mouse being hunted by packs of foxes.
It makes sense though, they’re being hunted by every nation just because they shared the same face. Al Haithem personally thought they were going a bit far, it’s idiotic to punish someone who happened to share a face with the All Mighty Creator.
One of the Sages cough to get his attention.
“Yes?” He replies with pen and scroll in hand, ready to record for them.
“You seemed lost in thought, a dangerous thing for a scribe to be doing, especially with such precious information as this.” One spoke up with an attitude
“Well, I realized I knew who that stranger is in the orb,” Al Haithem points with his pen, where Lesser Lord Kusanali was seemingly cuddling up with the Imposter, “It’s the rumored Imposter, the one who wears the Creator’s face.”
The Sages take a double take, walking towards the center to try and get a good view of the strangers face. It may have been squished slightly against the ‘glass’ but it was, in fact, the same face. The revelation starts a murmur with the Sages, as Al Haithem observes the Imposter,
Feeling a…
Tug in his chest.
______________________________________________________________
Okay okay i know i was gone for awhile, but do you like this filler? Lumine won for which traveler should be the one I use so yeah, shes her now.
oh god so many people to tag
If your name is crossed out it means I could tag you Im sorry :(
Taglist: @no-name-omo @moosieman12345 @tinandabin @esthelily @d0rmiens-fact0rem @lunalily19 @meerpea @justasleepyboi @lunarianillusion @cumbermovels @allblognamesaretakenlikereally @dulleyeddreamer @ello-its-me-ya-boi @jayastronomicnova @apple-ai @campanula-rotundifolia @kokomisimpppp @the-dumber-scaramouche @aintrovertmortal @i-loveyou013
#genshin impact#au#genshin nahida#genshin fanfic#genshin sagau#sagau#imposter sagau#sagau x reader#genshin impact sagau#genshin alhaitham#genshin#not me trying to be a writer again#still an artist#fluff#ig
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