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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

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Never Before

[Waiting For A Lifetime II] Part 1 2 3 ?

Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Aegon Targaryen x Reader + Aemond Targaryen x Reader (im sorry i couldn't help myself T_T)

Summary: Never before had Daemon, prince of Valyria, been so sure of anything in his entire life.

Word Count: 7k+ 💀💀💀

Warnings: Fem!reader, Modern AU, i have slight pov shifts kinda i hope its not confusing, probably poorly translated high valyrian, sibling quarrels T_T, angst, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: hello im 6000% invested in this that i made a moodboard MY MODERN!DAEMON NONNIE I HOPE YOURE READING THIS I HAVE A MADE A PART 2 ENJOY MY LOVE i hope you enjoy it T_T come back to my inbox and tell me what you think pls T_T i beg. this btw is a p2 and you 100% need to read the first chapter to appreciate this i think lol "Waiting For A Lifetime" (but to be fair, i doubt you need to read it to get what's happening though) ps the valyrian wedding vows are from reddit Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony also everyone who commented and messaged me about it my fic @pearlstiare @llovinjoonie @sabrina6272827 @ayamenimthiriel @comicsol1999 @fictionalcomforts @mirandastuckinthe80s @mooniesyubi @cookielovesbook-akie @panagiasikelia

"Viserys!" Daemon shouted as he galloped loudly down the halls. He paid no mind to the staff greeting him good morning as he called out for his brother. No one minds. They are far too used to him. His hair jostles with his movement, yet he barely heaves as he runs. He is far too used to this.

Daemon changes the name he calls as he practically jumps down the stairs with how much excitement was in his bones, "Aemma!"

He huffs as his tousled, silver blonde hair flies over his face as he makes it downstairs.

The prince nearly collides with a servant who just exited a room he passed. He braces her, grunts as he pushes past. She squeaks and quickly mutters an apology that is quickly ignored.

Daemon runs down the hall, making a quick turn when he reaches a corner.

Had it been anyone other than the Wild Child himself, it would have been a concerning sight to see a man running frantically so early in the morn. However, Daemon had done worse, far worse in his youth especially. It was best to rather just get out of his way, lest he accidentally injure you in an unfortunate collision.

Daemon busts into the dining room with a dramatic bang, fitting of his innate dramatics. Finally, he was out of breath and catches it as as his brother and sister-in-law cooed at their newborn babe.

He huffs, walking over to the joyous family, absolutely illuminated by the sound of the young heir's laughter and seemingly indifferent to his entrance.

Daemon releases a sigh at the sight of them.

The little girl squeals in excitement as her mother rattles her toy over her face.

Viserys finally turns to his younger brother, "oh. You're awake."

Daemon reaches him and slaps a hand on his back in regard, making a beeline for Aemma, who he promptly seals into a hug and kisses her cheek.

"Off, you cunt," Viserys points loudly but emptily, making his wife snort.

Daemon smirks at the reaction to his theatrics, glad to finally have attention, smile widening as he takes his turn to coo to his babe, "Rhae-Rhae!"

Viserys rolls his eyes, "Rhaenyra."

Aemma gives her husband a look, swatting a hand at him, "I think it's a cute pet name, lovie."

"Aemma," the man sat by the side of Rhaenyra's high chair shifts on his seat, "Ray-ray was the name of his dog when we were kids."

"But you're much cuter than him, innit?" Daemon says as he reaches out to Rhaenyra, "you're so much cuter than my widdle pitbull was."

Aemma breaks into a fit of giggles upon learning the dog's breed. From the spot where she stood to the right of Rhaenyra's high chair, she threw her head back, her long platinum blonde hair cascaded down her shoulder. She thinks it's fitting that the prince cared for a pitbull; the most misunderstood breed of canines, she thinks.

Viserys watches as Daemon takes his daughter, "she's not going to let you hold her."

Daemon ignores him and beams when the child is successfully in his arms.

Victorious.

That is up until she broke into a loud fit of tears.

"Aww, shh, shh," Aemma coos at her daughter, "it's uncle Daemon! Uncle Daemon."

"Yes, uncle demon," the child's father states, "who will not hesitate to steal your candy the minute he can."

"Viserys," Aemma warns.

The said man raises his arms, "I won't let him, lovie."

Daemon turns to Aemma with worry written on his face and moves to bring the baby for her to take. When he turns to his brother, Viserys has a shitfaced I-told-you-so look written all over him.

Daemon decides to ignore it, not even sparing an eye roll that was itching in his skull. Aemma takes Rhaenyra and hushes her in her arms. The effect is instant. Daemon looks on blankly yet in awe. Viserys catches the way his brother sighs in what he could only describe as delight. The former walks over to Viserys, circling behind him to pull the seat to his side and hunch over with intent.

Viserys shoots him a look. And here he thought his brother wanted merely to have breakfast. He should have known, "what do you want?"

These words alert Aemma, who turns from her spot as she continues to rock the already pacified baby in her arms.

"I want mother's ring."

Aemma gasps, eyes widening, jaw slacking.

Viserys pulls his head back, screws his eyes shut, then shakes his head in disbelief. He opens his eyes as he says, "you want what?"

"The red one," Daemon points, "you know. I always thought the emerald cut suited mummy's finger."

Aemma beams, "oh my gods, Daemon!"

"Wait," the king raises his hands, "wait, wait-" he turns to his excited wife, "wait," he eyes Daemon, "why you asking for the ruby ring?"

"I just said that-"

"Don't fuck with me."

Daemon straightens up at the sound of the king's hiss. He then snorts, unable to mask his amusement over his older brother's annoyance. He leans on the table and then grabs a piece of some of the sliced fruit. He chews the sweet melon and grape in his mouth, lips curving into a small smirk, "I'm going to get married."

Aemma cannot contain the squeal that slips out of her mouth, "DAEMON!"

"Fuck off," Viserys mutters, leaning back on his chair, "don't mess with me, you nitwit. I will have your arse if you-"

"No, I'm serious," he places a hand on his brother's shoulder, "I have met..." Daemon exhales, shaking his head. He holds his tongue, trying to think of the right words to say. Aemma and Viserys both are stunned by this, the latter most especially. The prince purses his lips then utters, "the most enchanting woman and..."

Aemma whimpers, hand coming up to her lips, tears glassing her eyes.

Viserys shifts in his seat to turn to his brother.

"I..." Daemon shakes his head, turning away from his brother in thought. He knits his brows as he chuckles to himself. He retreats his hand, "I have no idea how, or why, but I just know," he turns to Aemma, "she's the one."

Aemma bursts into tears upon hearing the admission. She hands her daughter to her husband then heads off to Daemon to seal him into a tight embrace. Daemon laughs as he stands and meets his sister-in-law halfway, cooing at her as they hug affectionately. He rubs her back, and kisses the top of her head, "aww, my sweet girl, we do not deserve you."

The king is too stunned to do anything but hold his heir.

The embrace lasts a good ten seconds.

"Gods, Dae," Aemma whimpers, "I'm so happy for you."

Viserys is frozen in his spot as he holds Rhaenyra. He looks out to door and calls, "someone! Someone come and bring a maester! My brother is terribly ill! He's in fucking love!"

Aemma and Daemon pull away from each other, chuckling as they did. The former swats Viserys and the latter waves at Rhaenyra, who was looking up at her papa, then idly turned to her uncle.

The king sighs before he turns up to his brother, "well, tell me about her. I would damned die trying to wrap my head around what kind of woman got you so worked up like this."

Aemma watches as Daemon's face lights up. It warmed her heart so dearly to see his good-brother like this.

"I cannot put it into words, Vis, but the moment I saw her," Daemon waves his hands around, "I- it was like... the wind was knocked out of my lungs."

"Gods. The Mother. The Stranger. The Smith," Viserys whimpers, standing from his chair, placing his daughter on the highchair. He pats her bald baby head, "lest I hurl on you, my love."

Aemma is sill very much sobbing. She clutches Daemon's bicep, "so?! When did you meet her?! What's her name? What does she do? What does she look like?! Do you have a photo of her? Show me a photo of her right now!"

Daemon chuckles at her rapid fire questions and grabs her cheek, leaning his forehead onto her. When he pulls away, he places his cherished possession into her hand. Daemon pushes past her and Aemma looks at the small white card with much intrigue.

Daemon feels a tingle run down his spine as he hears Aemma read the name out loud. He steps in front of his brother as his sister-in-law chimes, "she works at a museum and is a professor part time," the woman turns to her husband, "she's an intellectual, Viserys!"

"I'm going to need that ring, brother," Daemon declared.

Viserys turns to Daemon, eyes narrowed in both scrutiny and annoyance by his telltale spoiled attitude, "I can't just get mum's ring. It's in the vault with-"

"It's not in the vault," Daemon asserts, "Rhaenys borrowed it for the recent gala and it's still in the storage chamber here. I was the one that signed off the insurance papers for it to be shipped tomorrow. It's Not. In The Vault."

Viserys sighs and rolls his eyes, "oh, very well, let's get it both."

"I am more than capable of getting it my-"

"No!" Viserys raises a finger in respite, "the last time you were in the storage chamber, you nearly cost both of us our heads with the tragedy you laid upon grandpa's antique pottery."

Daemon takes his turn to rolls his eyes just as Viserys begins to walk off, "I was nigh but 13, you dunce!"

The elder snaps a glare at the younger, "I'm astonished you've convinced yourself that you found any semblance of maturity past that age, demon."

Daemon rolls his eyes again. Aemma calls out, "wait," grabbing her daughter, "we're coming with you." She jogs up to her brother-in-law and hands him back the card. Daemon places it in his pocket, "thank you, my love."

"Lovie," Viserys calls out, "just enjoy your breakfast, we shan't be long," he places his hands on his wife's shoulders.

"Oh, breakfast can wait, this is far more exciting, lovie," Aemma grins.

Viserys is weakened by her and sighs. He presses a kiss on her forehead, "fine. Do you want me to carry Rhaenyra?"

"I've got it, baby," she smiles, leaning into him.

Daemon watches them as they walk off. His stomach is in knots, thinking about how badly he wants that to happen with him and his love this very instant.

Daemon didn't need help to find the ancestral ring. The moment they walked in the chamber, he made a beeline for the object with not a second thought.

He takes the box and opens it, heart leaping into his mouth as he grins from ear to ear. He closes it with a thud and raises it in his hand with an expression of a boy opening gifts in Christmas morn, "I've got it."

Aemma giggles, rocking her baby with excitement, "look, Rhaenyra, uncle Daemon's got a ring."

Rhaenyra looks out inquisitively as her uncle walks over.

Uncle tries, getting on one knee, opening the box, "will you marry me, Rhaenyra?"

Viserys instantly kicks him down, "oh, fuck off, you incipit twat!"

Aemma giggles, as does the struck Daemon, felled on the floor with not a hint of offence.

When he stands, he lunges towards his brother, sealing him into a tight embrace, "you've made me a happy man, Viserys."

Viserys finds it tempting to fight him off and curse his bones, but he had not seen Daemon so sincerely excited and bright in a long while, and so he wraps his arms around him and leans into his touch, patting his back firmly, "alright, you bugger. Now let me see that card this time."

Daemon pulls away with a grin, pulling out the card for the king.

"Oh, let me see a photo of her!" Aemma shakes her hand out.

"I've not had the chance to photograph her," Daemon shakes his head, "don't worry though, I'll bring her home soon enough."

Aemma grins, hugging her daughter tightly. She coos at Rhaenyra and raises her small, soft arm up at Daemon, muttering as though it was the child, herself, speaking,, "and just how soon is soon, uncle?"

Daemon smiles at his niece, "why, this very moment, Rhae-Rhae," he leans in to gently pinch her rosy cheek. He then pulls away to swipe at his wrist, uncovering the watch beneath his dress shirt, "I'm calling her at 11:55."

"EEEK!" Aemma cheers, "Hear that, Rhaenyra? You're going to have an aunt!"

"Damn, Daemon," Viserys lifts his eyes up to his brother, "when did you meet her again.?

Daemon turns to his brother, shoving the box in his pocket. He got what he wanted; there was no need to mask anything. "Last night," he noted, reaching out to retrieve the card from him.

"I'm sorry," Viserys pulls the card away, preventing it from being snatched, "what?"

The prince sniffles, pressing his lips casually together, "I met her at the Blue Ginger last night."

Aemma's face falls into a inwardly concerned and shocked look.

"Give me the-"

Viserys steps back, pulling his arm farther back, "and there it is. There it is!" His neck strains at the intensity of his speech. He scowls at his brother angrily, making Daemon's jovial expression dim into a similar shade.

"So, what?!" Viserys shakes his head, lips curving into annoyance and disgust. "What? You fucked her then-"

"DON'T," Daemon points a finger, "FUCKING talk about her like that!" he seethed, stepping forward, bunching Viserys' shirt.

"Daemon!" Aemma calls out in concern.

Viserys scoffs, eye twitching in anger. He doesn't care that Daemon is staring at him with darkness, ruining his shirt in his fists. He rips the card in his hand into pieces. Daemon releases his brother in shock, face falling, jaw clenching.

"Viserys!" Aemma calls in shock, the same time Daemon barks, "you FUCKER!"

"Give me the ring, Daemon," Viserys commands, snorting, stiff as though he declared war, "I will not allow you to follow through with your frantic idiocy."

"I love her!" Daemon growls, teeth grit in fury.

"You want her!" Viserys corrects, stepping closer, "you've no idea what love is, boy! You want her like you wanted to be king then not!"

Daemon heaves at his brother's chastises.

"You met her yesterday! That is not love!" Viserys snarls, "it is nothing but love sprung from the head of your haughty cock!"

"Viserys!" Aemma cries.

"It is lust, Daemon!" the king proclaimed. He steps back, turning to the torn pieces of paper on the floor. He kicks it, but it barely does anything in affect, "you will not follow through with this madness!"

"You think I've not saved her number, dipshit?" Daemon shudders in anger. He grips the velvet box tightly in his pocket, feeling his body vibrate in hatred, scorn... hurt.

Viserys nearly drops his expression when he sees the glassiness of the prince's eyes.

Aemma's lips part, "Daemon."

"You told me you knew from the moment you saw her," Daemon points to Aemma accusingly before weakly dropping his arm, "that she was for you."

"Daemon," Viserys sounds defeated, "Aemma and I got to know each other for years before getting married," he whispers.

"And I will continue to know her for the rest of my life!" Daemon exclaims.

"Daemon," Viserys and Aemma call at the same time. The latter walks forward, placing a hand on the prince's shoulder, which is sequentially shrugged off. It hurts the queen, but she was kind enough not to push him further. The former sighs, raising his hands questioningly, "no matter how visceral it felt, no matter how drawn you were to meet her," the elder Targaryen states carefully, "you cannot be sure of-"

"I HAVE NEVER BEEN-" Daemon wails, desperate like a cat surrounded by water. His voice nearly breaks when he continues, "more sure of anything EVER-" he heaves, annoyed by the tears that were threatening to spill down his face. He shudders sharply, "not since the day mother died."

The tone in the room shifts drastically.

Daemon looks at his brother with pleading eyes as he recounts the memory, "I told you she... I told you she was dead that night, I told you I felt it in my bones, and you told me not to worry," tears finally streak down his cheeks, "we both woke up to father's ghost of a face."

Viserys remembers the day well. He remembers how adamant and frantic his little brother was that night. He had done his best to pacify him. Yet that morning it was he that was pacified by Daemon.

The king does a good job concealing his perceived weakness to his brother, he holds back tears he was to cry out, as the boy continues to plead his case.

"What's the point of waiting years, delaying something I am certain I desire now?"

"Daemon," Viserys says, almost helplessly, "you are a prince. You cannot marry on a whim and leave-"

"I will not LEAVE her!" Daemon erupts. He cannot take it anymore. He begins to fume, chest rising and falling quickly, "there was once a time when a prince was allowed to execute his wishes-"

"AND I AM THE KING!" Viserys bangs on his chest as he screams. He begins to heave just like his sibling, face succumbed to disdain. He raises his hand up to him, "give me the ring, Daemon."

Aemma feels her heart hurt at the sight of them. She feels her heart hurt especially because Daemon's face was wholly sullen, a complete contrast to what it was a while ago.

Daemon's face is blank. His defenses were up. Whatever brightness in hin was now gone.

"Is that a command, my king?" the second born utters under his breath.

The king thinks. He is tempted to say it, to do what he promised his baby brother he never would, exert his sovereignty over him. His chest constricts, his brows knit, his eyes begin to water. He cannot do that to him.

"It is a plea from your older brother, Daemon."

Daemon rolls his shoulders back. He holds back the quiver of his lips, "why should I listen to my hateful brother's plea when he did not listen to mine?"

"Daemon," Aemma calls, herself now overcome with emotion.

The said man walks away, pushing past them.

Viserys heaves. He watches his brother turn his back on him. He begins to flare with abhorrence and offence, "DAEMON!"

The prince does not listen as he walks away, storming out the storage chamber, slamming the doors on his way out. He mutters strings of High Valyrian curses as he roughly wipes his face on his sleeve.

Daemon soothes himself by remembering that Viserys was a rat, a gremlin, unadulterated rubbish, his absolute nemesis since time immemorial. He was difficult and cruel and irritating and selfish. He loathed him.

His eye twitches, his walking slows. Cunt. He hates himself for caring so much about him. Fuck him.

When Daemon gets to the garage, he wills the memory of choosing and purchasing the silver Benz with his rat brother in the very hell depths of his mind. He leans on the hood, his blonde hair falls on his face.

He'll turn around.

He snorts, wiping his philtrum.

He always turns around... he has to.

He pulls out his phone, blinking away the tears. He cusses when he sees that it was 10 am. There was no way he would get to the other side of town in time.

He gets in his car and drives off. He merely pulls over a few minutes before 11:55 to make good his promise.

Meanwhile hours before this incident, on the other side of the town, there was a heart as sulking just the same.

I had not gotten a lick of sleep in anticipation of this moment. I was hunched over on my desk, watching my screen, heart jumping every time the clock blinked with a new number.

"I got the One Eye comment again," a voice huffs as he walks into the office room, "people think they're so smart and original," his voice rises when he continues, "you told me I didn't look ridiculous with this on."

I straighten from where I stood, bent over, then turn to my side, catching the light haired intern, rip off his eye patch and slam it onto his desk. He roughly dusts off his jumper and pants for no reason other than annoyance.

I raise my brows at him and pout, "someone as handsome as you cannot ever look ridiculous, Aemond," I slump back down on my desk. I mutter, half-muffled, "it runs in the family."

Aemond rolls his eye, regretting it with the damned sty in the left one throbbed with pain. He huffs turning to me, pointing a finger, "you need to stop calling my damned brother pretty boy. He's starting to believe it."

I snort as my lips spread into a smile, "that's good; he is."

Aemond walks over to me, sardonic as ever, "historians aren't supposed to distort the truth, professor."

I stand, looking at his angular face, taking in his how the strands of his shoulder length hair, tied in a small bun, framed his sharp cheeks and jaw, how his pouty lips were curved into that of disdain. He was adorable, just like he was as a child when I met him perchance.

"Don't you teach me, kid," I narrow my eyes and purse my lips, "you're one failed review away from repeating the whole term."

Aemond is unfazed as he crosses his arms, "mmm, another term with a certainty to be had under your wing sounds delightful."

I roll my eyes, "Aemond."

Said Aemond's lips curl into a soft smile, enjoying the fact my words backfired on itself.

"We've been through this, my dear," I place my hands on his toned shoulders, "you're nervous about nothing. There's not a reason for you not to get hired here after you've graduated."

He hums again, relaxing against my touch, "and what of the failing mark my beloved teacher threatens to lay upon me?"

I huff as I pull away from him, drawing back my desk chair and plopping down, "you know I don't work like that, pretty boy."

Aemond clenches his jaw, "don't call me that."

I turn to him, resting my elbows on my desk, "why not? I think you're pretty too."

He turns away, thinking about his sty, thinking about how his breath hitched when he first met his beloved teacher, thinking about his brother, Aegon, made you laugh where he made things awkward in your first meeting, "that's the oaf's nickname. I do not want it."

I follow him with my eyes as he storms off, grabbing his eye patch, putting it back on. He then walks back behind me to finish labeling the books stacked there.

"Is it so bad to share a nickname with your brother?" I ask.

"Yes," he quickly blurts. Aemond doesn't waste another moment and grabs a book a lot rougher than normal.

I turn away from him, dejected by his ire. I grab my phone, seeing the time was 11:49. I brace my arms in front of me and lean down, sighing.

I repeat this process over and over and over and over and-

Aemond, who had been witness to it, finally asks, "what are you sighing about?"

"I'm waiting for a call."

"Mmm," he shifts on his place and presses his hand on a book, "is it from the Maester's Association?"

"No."

"Septa's Guild?

"No."

Aemond raises a brow, "they what are you so restless about?"

I check the clock for the nth time, heart leaping when I see it's 11:53. I straighten in my seat and begin to fix my hair. I clear my throat and do some nonsensical sounds to warm up my voice.

Aemond forgets about his task altogether and turns to me. His brows knit and he leans on the table, "who exactly are you waiting to call you, professor?"

I breathe in deeply, checking the time again. 11:54. I cradle my phone in my hand as though it is my lifeline.

"The love of my life."

Aemond straightens up, stiffening and deflating all at once. His face tenses so tightly, the sty irritates him again. For a moment, he is overcome with a bitterness in his throat. He thinks of his brother again-- but that can't be.

He clenches his jaw and relaxes. He thinks about how loosely that term is used when uttered upon his beloved professor's lips. He relaxes completely, releasing a breath. He turns back to his books, calming himself with his breathing.

He wonders out loud, "Alicent?"

Aemond thinks his guess to be right. After all, his cousin, your many times over research partner, had been in Essos for weeks for a riveting symposium. He was perplexed why you hadn't expressed the same enthusiasm in going there, considering the fact there was a dragon skeleton recently unearthed there, apparently Caraxes' no less. He did not buy the fact you weren't interested in the dig site at least, knowing how you were obsessed with his rider, Daemon Targaryen I.

"No, not Ali," I mutter, shaking my head.

Aemond thinks of another one of his professor's research partners besides Alicent.

I mutter softly, "someone else... you don't know him."

Him?

"... well," I chuckle, "I suppose you do."

Aemond is now utterly confused.

My heart nearly stops when my phone clock strikes 11:55.

Aemond once again forgets about his work upon hearing the gasp. He awaits the sound of the phone ringing.

The seconds passing are dreadfully unbearable. I count each and every one of them. By the time I reach 34, I begin to feel bile rise up my throat.

Dear gods, he forgot about me. He forgot about me, and he's not going to call. How silly of him to even promise such a thing. He's probably caught up in doing his princely politicking. Hell, I wouldn't even remember-

I gasp again, dropping the phone when it began to vibrate and ring. I choke on my breath, my hands fumble, my shoulders tense, my mind is racing.

Aemond watches this intently, how the most poised and composed person in his life began to break down like a tower of unglued blocks. He watches as his professor stares blankly at the ringing phone.

"Answer it," he urges, stepping forward once.

His voice wasn't even loud nor demanding, yet I still start at it. I nod my head profusely then scramble for my phone. I quickly gain my wits and answer the call.

I press the screen against my ear, carefully calling, "hello?"

"Hello? Hello! Hi! Hi, my love!"

Daemon sound ecstatic, relieved. My jaw is parts into a smile. I am heaving heavily through my mouth as my stomach swirls and my chest tightens. I grip on my elbow, breathlessly replying, "hi."

"Hi! Hi. Right. I'm pulled over in the side of the highway-"

"What?" I jolt from my seat. Aemond jolts as well. "W-wh-why? Are you hurt? Did something happen? What highway are you on? Should I call-"

"Hush, love," he chuckles, "lykiri," he hushes, calm down in High Valyrain, and continues in the same tongue, "calm down. I am well," he breaks into a soft laugh, "oh, my dear, my darling, I only pulled over to make good on my promise to call you at 11:55."

I release a breath of relief. I relax my shoulders, nodding my head, muttering mostly to myself, "on the dot."

I can almost hear him smile from across the line, "yes, my sweet girl... though a few seconds passed," he chuckles, "I hope you do not fault me for it."

"Never," I lean my head into my hand, releasing shaky breath. My breathing is shallow and my eyes flutter close.

My sweet girl. It was been so long since I heard his voice utter these words. A dam of memories break open and my mind floods with memories of him calling me this; it's all very tender, like an open wound. Tears begin to strain in my eyes and my throat constricts with a tight band of emotion.

"Are you crying?" Aemond mutters lowly that even he doesn't hear it.

"I reckon I'll be there in about 10 minutes, give or take," Daemon sounds guilty when he says this, "I'm sorry to make you wait, my pretty girl, but you can wait a few more minutes for your prince, can't you?"

I shudder out his name, biting my lip tightly for a moment, trying to even out my breath so he doesn't catch the sound of my sobbing, "10 minutes is inconsequential to how long I have been waiting for you."

He takes a moment to respond. I hear him sigh, "I couldn't sleep last night thinking of you either."

"You're the only thing I've ever thought about," I whisper like a secret, afraid to wipe the tears on my cheeks away, in fear of smearing my makeup.

He laughs at the admission. It is smug and self-indulgent, but it is unlike the other times I've heard him laugh conceitedly. At its core, Daemon sounded relieved, he sounded touched.

"I am glad to hear it," he openly affirmed, "I will come to you soon. Nothing will keep us apart."

His words squeeze my heart, my very soul, my being. I mutter softly, "drive safe."

"I will, my love."

My breath hitches. I lick my lips in preparation, but then I stop myself. Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't say-

"I love you," I sigh.

A beat of silence passes.

Part of me feels foolish when I am met with only ambient noise. I don't regret saying it at all though. I punish my lower lip tightly with a bite that draws out blood, but then I release it in shock when he calls back.

"I love you," he says, "wait for me."

The call ends.

The moment I put my phone down, Aemond is upon me. He gently takes my arm and words my name out carefully. He doesn't say anything else. He seemed not to know what else he could.

I turn to the tall man, one eye covered, strands of silvery hair still haphazardly framing his face. He adjusts his hold on me when I reach out to his arms, gripping the fabric of his jumper, not so much him. He has his hands on both my arms and he looks down at me with concern, speaking my name once more.

I turn away from him, blinking rapidly as it all sinks in, "it's finally happening."

"What is?" Aemond asks, almost helplessly, quite unlike his usually certain demeanor.

I turn back to him, lifting my chin to meet his gaze, releasing my clutch on his top, jumping into him to seal him into a tight embrace. He is taken aback by my sudden haptics, but immediately hugs be back.

"I'm finally going to have him."

"Have," he coaxes slowly as he bends to offer me more stability on my feet, "him?" Aemond voice strains, "who are you talking about?"

"My love," I break away, blinking tears as I look back at Aemond. There is a line of worry on his face, but I could not bring myself to offer him but only a quick caress of his cheeks as comfort and reassurance. I pull away, fanning myself, "dear goodness, I have to get ready."

I dash to my desk, swiping my bag, immediately running toward the bathroom.

Aemond could do nothing but watch and rack his brain trying to make sense of it all. He is so perplexed by it that he thinks of calling his brother for answers. In his lack of better judgement, he dials the contact and his phone begins to ring.

Aegon on the other line barely croaks a tired hello and Aemond is already demanding answers, "you were with her at the Blue Ginger last night, correct?"

There is a moment of silence. There was no need for clarification for Aegon to understand what the seven hells his younger brother was on about.

Daemon arrives at the museum, in his black three piece, black trilby, and dark red shades. He adjusts his glasses. For once in his life is damned annoyed by his unmissably strong presence.

Immediately, this steward walks over to him, her eyes roving all over, brows raised in inquisition. He doesn't let her speak to him, a finger raise is enough to silence her. He states that he had business with a professor and asks where he could find her.

He wastes no more time than necessary, heading off to the direction he was given.

He shoves his hands in his pockets, paying no heed to the people who spot and gawk at him, wondering louder than they should about who exactly he was. He makes his way upstairs and goes down the hall as he was told.

His cool composure is completely destroyed when he sees the person standing at the end.

"Daemon," I mutter sparing not a second's thought as I run over to him, not caring that I was in heels, or in a dress, or even that my perfectly restyled hair was being ruined.

Tears begin to prick at my eyes all over again. After all my talk in front of the mirror not to ruin my redone makeup, I couldn't bring myself to care in this moment.

Daemon strides over to me, quickening into a jog as he removes his hat and sunglasses, sighing heavily as his lips curve into a smile. He outstretches his arms in anticipation.

Aemond, catching the quick blur from the window, stops what he is doing and runs outside.

Quickly, and all at once, I am upon him.

Our chests collide with a thud, our limbs wrap around each other tightly. We bury ourselves into each other's necks, basking in the affection, in the scent of each other, in the warmth.

I cannot help but sob onto him.

He instinctively hushes me, lifting me off my feet as he does, "hush, little one, I am here. I am here. Lykiri."

I pathetically sob into his collar, "I missed you so much."

Daemon tightens his grip on me. He mutters in High Valyrian, "I missed you like I've been waiting a thousand years."

I choke as I brush my nose against him, "2000."

When he tries to pull away, I nearly scream in protest, "please don't pull away! Please."

Daemon sighs and leans down, allowing me to stand on my feet. He was so familiar to me, so much so I recognized his impeding action. I felt him brush his hands down to my waist. I knew exactly what he was going to do. I jump when he bends to grab me, carrying me into his arms. I tightly wrap my legs around his waist and nuzzle against him. Daemon cradles my thighs and nuzzles all the same.

Aemond had seen enough from the end of the hall at this point. He regrets spending his free time doing errands as he waited for his professor. He keeps his gaze on the floor as he quickly makes his way down the hall to leave, somewhere far-- as far as his legs would take him. He is all but ignored as the heavily infatuated couple pass him.

"My office is the last one," I mutter against Daemon's neck, eyes closed, finger tips massaging his scalp.

I open my eyes to check if he got the right room. He did.

A part of me is concerned when I do not see my favorite apprentice. The thought quickly evaporates when I am propped on a desk and hungrily kissed.

I moan on instinct when our lips connect. I readily return his fervor just as hungrily. My heart is thundering in my ribcage as his large hands rub up and down my back. I pull him closer, tightening my legs around him, tugging at the roots of his hair. He moans. Gods I've missed that sound.

I pull away from him when his hands trail down my thighs, attempting to hike my skirt up.

"Daor, ñuha zaldrīzes," I mutter softly, placing my hands atop his.

No, my dragon.

Daemon pulls back and huffs heavily, the heat of his breath brings goosebumps on my skin. He looks down at me, violet eyes blown, lips stained with my lipstick, a predator, made tame only by the call of his mate.

He kneads at my flesh, leaning closer, brushing his nose against mine, "I promise you'll like it," he leans deeper between my legs, "I'll make it quick, so no one sees," he steals a kiss on my lips, "you were made for my eyes only."

I wrap my arms around his torso, leaning into his chest as I shake my head in disagreement, "Daor, ñuha zaldrīzes," I repeat in his mother tongue, continuing all the same, "I don't want to rush you. I want to savor you completely and recount every inch of you."

He curses in the same language, calling out my name like a prayer, He kisses me deeply.

Daemon pulls back to bring his lips on my cheek, my jaw, my neck, then the back of my hand. He rubs my knuckles as he takes me in. I bring one hand to his cheek, in utter disbelief that I had him here with me finally, that he was here, right in front of me.

My spirit leaves me when he gets on his knee and pulls out a box from his pocket.

"Daemon-"

"Never before have I ever felt such feelings for anything, for anyone," Daemon looks up at me with wide violet eyes as he slowly opens the box. I stare at the large emerald cut ruby. It was as red as blood, as clear as day.

He speaks my name, like he burned it into his tongue, like it is the most scared sound in the world, "gaomagon nyke se greatest rigle hen becoming ñuha ābrazȳrys."

My lips part and my chest inflates and deflates.

Do me the greatest honor of becoming my wife.

He didn't even ask.

In the intensity of it all, my quivering lips curve at his words. My nostrils flare in amusement.

How very Daemon of him.

I slide down to my feet and reach out to him. He takes my hand with a hopeful look. My hand lands back on his cheek. He moves to pull the ring out as he grabs the palm on his face. "No, Daemon," is all it takes for him to crumble before me. I push the jewel back in its place and close the box.

Daemon's brows furrow as he watches me pull the wheeled desk chair back and sit there before him.

The prince's eyes and cheeks are wet with tears. The sight is soul destroying.

He clenches his jaw as he places his hands on my thighs, shifting down on both his knees, "why not?" He asks this so helplessly that it strikes a chord in my heart because it sounded so much like his cries, at least the ones that I heard in my last moments before coming back to life, seeing he traded his breath for mine.

I grab his face, shaking my head as I lean towards him, "I am yours, Daemon.; before you were even born, I was yours. Nothing in this world, old or new, will ever change that."

"Then why would you," he heaves a moment to catch his breath, hanging his head low, "deny me this?"

"Daemon, look at me," I call, lifting his head up, "this magic between us," I speak carefully, "this will never change. My heart has broken a million times, but you have remained my beacon of light.

His face scrunches, he shakes his head. I can tell there is a veil of confusion covering his mind and yet he is trying to understand.

I cup his cheeks, "that may not have changed, but the world has. I do not wish to cause you strife where strife should not be welcome. The world is looking at you now, more than ever before."

He clenches his jaw, "I don't fucking care how many worlds watch me while I shit," his nostrils flare, "I want you, I need you, I l-"

He looks physically pained when he stops himself from continuing.

"Daemon," I uttered, "tell me, what did Viserys say about this?"

Daemon recoils. A shiver runs down his spine as his face hardens with betrayal. His hands grip my wrists tightly, "it nary matters what my brother thinks-- he doesn't think, he only tells me what to do."

"My love," I frown, "the king only acts the way he does in his care for you."

"You know NOTHING of my brother!" he snarls, face reddening in rage, shoving my hands off him, "do not come to me all sage about him."

I withdraw from him, straightening in my chair, sighing as I place my hands on my lap, "you can bare your teeth at me all you want, but your fangs are cannot pierce me. You are a toothless babe in my eyes."

Daemon's cheeks twitches. His breath struggles. He drops the box on the floor with little care. I internally cringe at the sound of it.

"Daemon," I huff, "I know you only want the approval of your brother," I add, lowering my head to him, "I know it hurt you when he forbade you to go through with your plan."

He looks away, tears steaking his cheeks. He levels his breathing. He releases his tension and sinks on his knees. He doesn't look at me when he pulls me close to him by my calves and drops his head on my thighs. I feel dampness pool on my clothes. I begin to comb through his blonde hair. He grabs at my skirt helplessly, "he thinks me a fool, the king... a puppet, desperately in need of a puppet master."

"You know that's not true," I respond in High Valyrian.

"How do you know!?" Daemon lifts his head, hands taking mine tightly. His voice is shrill, it's defensive and challenging. And yet he repeats the same words, "how do you know?" voice soft, wondering and desperate.

I rub his wrist with my thumbs, "it will take more than my lunch break for me to explain it."

Daemon straightens up, immediately concerned, "no. No, you cannot leave me. You cannot make me leave. I-"

"I'm not leaving you," I grasp him tightly, "and I will never make you leave," I continue in High Valyrian, "no one said anything about leaving."

Daemon clenches his jaw, he shifts his hands in mine, linking our fingers together. He desperately adds in his mother tongue, "I will die if you do not become my bride."

I cannot help the chuckle that leaves me when I hear his words. I tighten my grip on him, then feel a foreign object on his pinkie. I turn to his hand and see the iron ring on it. My breath hitches. It is the exact same ring he had before. What a marvel that it's intact after millennia.

I pull away my hands. Daemon starts, not liking the idea of losing contact. His settles slightly when gaze turns to where mine was and he sees me pull the ring off his finger.

"Hen lantoti ānogar, v sȳndroti vāedroma," I start, slipping the ancient piece of jewelry bearing his family's sigil on my ring finger, "mēro perzot gīhoti, elēdroma iārza sīr," I look up to him, "izulī ampā perzī,--"

"--prūmī lanti sēteksi, hen jenȳ māzīlarion," Daemon joins, expression perking, "qēlossa ozūndesi, sȳndroro ōñō jēdo," he brings his hands to my cheeks and leans his head against mine, "rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi."

Blood of two, joined as one, ghostly flame, and song of shadows, two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires, a future promised in glass, the stars stand witness, the vow spoken through time, of darkness and light.

I gasp when Daemon's lips crashes into mine. His hands dart down to my hind, pulling me close to him, trapping his body between my legs once more.

We only break away in desperation for air.

"We are wed," I mutter, pressing another kiss upon his, "here and now I am your bride and you are my groom. We are wed. The gods are our witnesses." I brush my nose against his, closing my eyes, "the wedding can wait, but from now on you are mine."

"Mine," he repeats, lips curving upward, "my bride," Daemon brushes my hair back, "I would die if I ever witness your pretty finger naked of my ring." He takes my ring clad hand, kissing the skin at the back.

"Please," I shake my head, "stop with that talk," I mutter, brows furrowing, "I forbid you from doing anything that would ever lead you to death. I will not know what to do with myself if I lose you all-"

I am cut off when Daemon crushes me into a tight embrace. I relax against him, tightening my arms around him.

"You will not escape me," Daemon mutters, sinking his face in the crook of my neck, "you will never evade me. I will be your air, your ground, your thoughts, your dreams."

My stomach is in a flurry. My head is swimming in everything that is him.

"My love," he sighs, "my wife," he finishes his thoughts in High Valyrian, "there would be no world worth living if I do not have you."

I cannot help the tears that fall onto his neck. I kiss his skin and sigh in content, "I am so happy that you found me, my dragon."

"As am I," he hums, "and I will never lose you ever again."

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 year

Note

33 with Peter

33. soft kisses while cuddling in bed

—

May had a night shift at the hospital last night, so Peter invited you for a sleepover. You weren’t doing anything sneaky, though. May knew. Peter always invited you over when she was had a night shift. He didn’t like being alone in the apartment for a full night — even superheroes have fears.

You and Peter decided to make today a slow morning and stay in bed for as long as possible. It was gloomy and dark outside, which was a perfect excuse to stay in.

You quietly talked about everything and nothing while cuddling in bed — and sharing a few soft kisses.

''Why did you fall for me?'' Peter asked out of the blue, insecurity lacing his voice. ''I mean, you could’ve had a much better guy than me.''

''Well, I tried messaging Robert Pattinson on Instagram, but he never responded,'' you joked, but Peter wasn’t in a laughing mood.

''I’m being serious, Y/N... You’re so beautiful and intelligent and caring and generous and funny and— and I’m just...me. Plain old Peter who loves Star Wars and never gets invited to parties.''

Peter had P.E. yesterday, so you guessed Brad or Flash must’ve said something in the locker room. About you and Peter. They always played with Peter’s brain out of jealousy and it disgusted you.

You reached up and cupped Peter’s face gently, looking right into his deep brown eyes, catching the tinge of sadness into them. ''Do you want to know why I like you, Peter?'' He didn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue. ''You’re kind,'' you said, tracing the line of his eyebrow with your other hand. ''Courageous.'' You dragged your finger over his cheekbone. ''Selfless.'' Then, up the shell of his ear and taking a piece of his curly hair and twirling it around your finger, you eyes still gazing into his. ''And always make me laugh with your witty remarks and nerdy references. You're the coolest person I've ever met and you don't even have to try.''

''I try really hard, actually,'' Peter admitted.

You leaned down to kiss him, but Peter’s phone went off, its ringtone echoing loudly in the bedroom and disturbing your moment.

''Don’t pick up,'' you begged.

''I have to. It might be Mr. Stark.''

He sat up, but you clung onto him, trying to keep him in bed. ''He’ll leave a message. You can call him back later.''

Knowing Tony would just keep calling until Peter would answered, he easily slid from your hold and reached onto his nightstand for his phone.

Peter's eyed widened in panic. This was worse than Mr. Stark. ''It’s May. She forgot her keys and she's outside. I have to go unlock the door for her.''

—

Marvel taglist: @xenasolos @chrizzierbsstuff @ayamenimthiriel @alina02 @turtleshavesoulmates @staygoldsquatchling02 @daemonslittlebitch @wetwilliam02 @haileyismoo @manofworm @rhydianissuperior @supersanelyromantic @nicangel13 @mxxny-lupin @sweeterheartxamerica @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @arunaposeidondottie @liidiaaag @katsukis1wife @amithesimpoffandoms @acornacreacure @chaotic-fangirl-blog @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue @youdontneedtoknowthisinformation @aabananaa @starrrslove @angeliod

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #mcu!peter parker #mcu imagines #old draft #tom!peter parker x reader #tom!peter parker #tom!spiderman

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kiss-me-muchoo · 1 year

Text

「 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐲: 𝐑𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐦𝐞, 𝐈 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 」

⇘ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ⇙

『 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤, 𝐯𝐮𝐥𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬. 𝐓𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥. 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞. 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐦𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭. 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤. 𝐈𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐝𝐨. 』

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

✶𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: Reject me, I get it

✶𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: Ever after

✶𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑: If I can’t save you…

✶𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒: To my hope

✶𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓: Dear Joel…

✶𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔: Blood in the tulle

✶𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕: Doom

✦𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 : Fallacy

・゜゜・．

✶ 〔 𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐬 〕✶

✧_ Womb

✧_Nursing

✧_Trying (flashback)

✧_?

…

☞ 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲_ 𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐂𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐬.

☞ 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 + 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨

☞𝐦𝐲 𝐏𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

☞ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭_ @aonungs-tsahik @buckysmainhxe @amethystwonders11 @kyuupidwrites @bookfrog242 @acornacreacure @enbywan @ipadkidsworld @my-obsession-spn @happycupcakeenthusiast @thesameoldboo @spideysimpossiblegirl @tubble-wubble @flightlexsbird @randomstory56 @memento-mora @royalty-cashinout @ayamenimthiriel @eddies-bat-tattoos @kassieesworld @damnzelsoul @floffytofu @rintheemolion @coldheartedmar @woofgocows @d4rno @marantha @floralsightings @pedro-pascal-3nthusiast @holb32 @harperdoodle @daddy-din @mxtokko

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #self reblog

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dino-fart · 1 year

Text

Caught in the Spider’s Web

Summary | Chapter 1

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Female Reader

Genre: Action, Adventure, Romance, Tragedy

Summary: On Earth-1610, Miles Morales has some trouble still adapting to his powers and fighting crime. Good thing you, a sorceress and rejected student of Kamar Tajj, were around when he was nearly killed by Kraven the Hunter. After saving him, the two of you bonded, he looked up to you like a big sister. So when you find him sulking and on the brink of tears you go into protective mode. Who is this ‘Vampire Spiderman’ and what’s his issue with Miles? You may just open up a portal and find out for yourself...

Tagging: @deepbatched, @vikingqueen28, @leonkennedyslefthand, @stewardofningishzida, @icytrickster17, @onlinecemetery, @marki-moo0, @absolute-not-original, @creamecafe, @scrubb, @nightingal3-tales, @alliethedaydreamer, @strangesthirdeye, @alexa-33, @zombiedixon89, @sunnsettee, @deliciousfestsalad, @kiaradaniell, @freyafriggafrey, @criticalroleobssedperson, @avengersfan25, @lunamoonbby, @androgynouspersonapricotfan, @foxcantswim, @namorkawaiiwife, @starkiller-queen, @kyuupidwrites, @luciamajer, @renatas10, @ayamenimthiriel, @gaiagurl05, @dipsylou, @pinkthick, @hansai, @andywinter16, @iambored24601, @3-cheese-tortellini, @cumbrbatchbenedict, @ironstrange1991, @aribas-stuff, @rianumochi, @vibaracal, @lostpirateinwonderland

#miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader

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penvisions · 3 months

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return the favor {what lies ahead}

hi hi, january was a very good month for this fic! i got so inspired after being overwhelmed with it for months. i'm drafting the next couple of chapters and i'm curious as to where y'all think the story is going? it will follow through to the end of season one and a little bit beyond that for a loose timeline

np taglist: @furiousmushroom @sawymredfox @ayamenimthiriel @bookloverkat @rosaaeles @narcissa-anastasia @littlemisspascal @oscarissac2099 @ghostwritesthings @76bookworm76 @elli3williams @sarap-77 @christinamadsen

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thesithdiaries · 2 years

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House of the Dragon taglist

If you want to be part of the taglist, send me a message

there's alot of blogs not popping up so contact me so i can fix it

All of them:

@my-dark-prince / @Daemonloversblog / @littlemoonash / @mypatrochilles / @beefbaby25 / @sweetybuzz2 / @Fin-never / @asexualaromosafezone / @nerdy4itall / @yelchinweasleylothbrok / @Juless_world / @thatgaytevinter / @kaitieskidmore1 / @chevelledahuman / @rozendiors / @claudiajacobs / @savagemickey03 / @multifandom-loser / @direluvr / @dandycandy75 / @bitchyglitterfox / @rumandtearsflowerisevil

for Criston Cole:

@camschansenpai / @ilovoysters / @Larslaen / @m1tzifa1ry

for Daemon Targaryen:

@madelineannmolder / @omgsuperstarg / @edum123 / @asiababy1903 / @valentiinita02 / @ali-r3n / @bluebear142077 / @newtsniffles / @ayamenimthiriel / @theBoredCat / @aries-hco / @thekayarlene / @druigbarnes01 / @poisxnedmind / @secretsthathauntus / @hc-geralt-23 / @krokietino / @instabull

for Harwin Strong:

@dkathl / @holysmokesblog / @derzauberermitlilabademantel / @daydreamin1220 / @redpool / @bxdbxtxh15 / @vinceelsner / @watersofmars / @popsycles / @holysmokesblog / @madelineannmolder / @poisxnedmind / @lilithArtAndStuff

for Rhaenyra Targaryen:

@laenordeservedbetter / @dany-is-my-queen / @canyonyodeler / @kloy344 / @goofymickeyr

#hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen imagine #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #criston cole imagine #criston cole x reader #harwin strong imagine #harwin strong x reader

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agoracactus · 2 years

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Pt.11 - "Don't go."

heres the yearly update ahahaha i dont have a problem

also i have no idea if the tag list is working

also's also I think this is the last chapter of the main story (finally

now im looking forward to do some one shots

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.4.5 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9 Pt.9.5 Pt.10

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x reader

Word Count: 3072

Warnings: the ushe

Tag list: @theojuicee @ayamenimthiriel @imthesnowinthedark @distinguishedkryptonitecreator

He sat up, panting, soaked in cold sweat. Wiping his face with one hand, he took a deep breath only to realize that the breath was shaking.

Sighing, he stoked the fire.

It's been like this for the past six months, haunted by terrible nightmares- worse than those he used to have when he started his trials in Kaer Morhen. Every time he closed his eyes, he'd see you.

Pale, lifeless, drenched in blood.

He rubbed the side of his temple. Some beasts were making noises in the distant bush. A twig snapped somewhere near.

A deer, perhaps.

Everything from that day was kind of blurry and at the same time crystal clear in his head.

He very clearly remembered having a fight with you in the woods, those words he said would echo in his mind when he revisited that day. He couldn't remember the look on your face, no matter how hard he tried. Were you just as hurt as that day?

And the scene. Oh the scene.

He could still see it vividly, in fact, he would never be able to forget with it branded into his brain. What he saw after he ran back into the city, it's what hell would be like if he were to imagine it. All those dismembered bodies- mummified or not- all the blood, like the whole city was a slaughterhouse. And the quietness, it felt deadly. Even though he could hear people rustling behind their closed doors, women shushing their babes, people sobbing softly, and the fire crackling here and there... all these noises turned into fuzziness and were blanked by the quietness. It was deafening.

And you, lying in a puddle of thick, tar-like liquid, arms and fingers disproportionately stretched out.

He wondered if you knew, somehow, without your memory, if you knew what would happen in town. And if you did what you did knowing it could cost you your life. He wondered if he deserved it, after all he had done, how he treated you.

He rubbed his face with his palm, decided to get some more wood since he's probably not going to sleep tonight.

There was a soft knock on your door.

You were wrapped in a soft blanket and curling up on the window seat with your forehead pressed against the cool panel.

You didn't respond.

Eyle pushed open the door, "Itzel." "......Hm?" "How are you feeling?" "..."

You heard him sigh.

"I brought you some soup." Eyle set down a small tray next to you. You responded with silence. "Y/n." he called out your name. You turned your head slightly to look at him. "...Let me know if you need anything." You nodded, turned your head back.

He sighed again, "And finish your soup before it goes cold." and left.

You were asleep for a long time, and probably even longer for you to fully recover. You weren't sure exactly how long, but judging by the length of Helvit'tar's hair, definitely longer than you'd like. And the whole time it felt like you were living a mixture of a distant dream and reality, only you couldn't tell which is which.

Sometimes you saw yourself sitting by the window of your tower watching ravens hunting in the woods, sometimes you were sitting by the fire teaching a man with snowy white hair how to play tic tac toe. Sometimes you sat by a dinner table listening to a slim man reciting a poem with a glass of wine in hand, sometimes you were linking arms with a man wearing a hat with a large piece of feather dancing in circles in a pub.

Sometimes you were in the dark, surrounded by hollering wind that sounded like people screaming, cursing you and damning you for the endless confinement.

One night you found yourself crying hysterically, you swore you were hearing children's screaming. Then your senses came back to you, you realized you were grabbing and clawing at Eyle's arms, your whole body trembling uncontrollably.

"...Eyle?" you tried to take a few deep breaths, "I don't know what's happening..." tears streamed down your cheeks, "...I don't know what's real..." He gently wiped your face with a clean cloth. "...Are you real?" "Yes." "...You sure?" "...There's really no way for me to prove it, y/n." "....." you felt yourself drift away again.

Then one morning, you woke up. The sun shined in through the window, particles quietly swirling in the beams. Everything was so peaceful and slow. The chaos finally ended.

You died.

You sacrificed yourself to save your dear witcher. The asshole who still managed to hurt you when you were supposed to be someone else. And the sacrifice worked, perfectly, from what you heard.

Helvit'tar and Eyle resurrected you, with the power of science and magic. They managed to bind the evil entities within you after your contract was fulfilled, forcing them to give you life, otherwise they'd perish with you. It was like Helvit'tar and Eyle were some mastermind lawyers working within the loophole of the demonic law and bringing you back to life. Kind of funny when you think about it.

Apparently you're an energumen now. A successful case of demonic possession with the ability to wield its power- without losing yourself. You could tell that Helvit'tar, being a crazy scientist, couldn't wait to do more experiments with you, even though he contained the excitement pretty well.

However, with all the miracles, you felt depressed.

Geralt. Was he alright? He's probably fine because he's a witcher, and you ordered Eyle to protect him... But you can't be sure, if only you could meet him... Helvit'tar would never agree. He never liked the witchers, not to mention this one cost you your life.

And how dare he not visit you? Does he not want to know if you're ok? Does he not care? You died for him! The least he could do is to come and pay tribute! A "thank you" would be nice!

You kept toying with the gold coin hanging on your neck with a piece of loose leather string. Your lucky coin. He left it with Eyle.

What does it mean? He doesn't want anything to do with you anymore? So he's returning your stuff so he wouldn't be reminded of you? After you saved his ass? Perhaps he finally made up his mind and he's done with you? Or perhaps he knew what you've become, and drew a line at energumen? What the fuck? So he was fine with the casual murdering and manipulating his destiny, but it's gonna be a huge no no when it comes to energumen? You didn't ask for this!

Or perhaps you did? You shouldn't have run away, should have had a talk with him... Definitely shouldn't be pretentious and try to help a stranger in this time and world... And you willingly traded away all of your memories to gain power... To be honest, you're quite enjoying having this sort of power, the feeling of supremacy, it's delicious. Perhaps you are a evil person.

You had to lean on to the handrail and took one step after another to go downstairs. After spending so much time in bed, you need to work a little to get the muscles in your legs strong again. Eyle has been helping you with the exercise, but you still feel weak in your legs, which made you a bit frustrated.

You got downstairs, saw a suitcase by the door, Helvit'tar was talking quietly to Eyle. His eyes met yours.

"I see you are doing fine with your walking exercise." he quickly walked to you and offered an arm with a big warm smile. You hooked your arm onto his, "Going somewhere?" "Not for long, got a request from an old friend." "Sorry, it should have been me." "There's no need for apologies, take all the time you need." he patted on the back of your hand.

You walked outside, with Eyle carrying the luggage behind you. "I'll be back soon." Helvit'tar gave your hand a slight squeeze before letting go, and climbed onto the carriage. You smiled and waved, and stood there till you couldn't see the dust from the carriage anymore.

"Shall we go in?" Eyle held out his arm. You held onto it, "What were you talking about just now?" "...It's nothing you have to worry about." some how he got a bit gloomy. He led you slowly back towards the door. "Huh, and here I thought we got no secrets between us anymore." you said jokingly, stepping through the threshold. He let go of you and stopped at the door.

"Eyle?" "...He's banned from setting foot upon our land." "What?" "Master made it very clear that if he ever felt his presence, he would kill him." "Wha- Who are you talking about?" "The white hair one."

He had both of his hands in a tight clench, "He refused to, pointed his sword at master... I've never seen master losing his temper... He almost showed his true form..." his nails digging into his palms, face turned white from squeezing words out. Helvit'tar must had ordered him not to say a word to you about this, and made it into a blood vow. "Eyle-" "He never really left... Master teleported him but he returned... Every few weeks he'd show up somewhere near the periphery-" "Eyle stop!" you rushed to hold his hands, blood was already dripping. "Are you crazy? You're gonna break a vow?"

Eyle took a big breath in, unclenched his fists, "You should go." You looked at him with disbelief. "Follow the direction of that tree we used to practice on, master will be back in two days, make sure you come back before that. And take this." "Hold on- Eyle!" you watched him poofed and re-appeared, handing you a warm blanket. "Two days, don't be late." he said firmly.

You stumbled in the woods, keeping track on where you were going with the bright moon light, feeling like your heart was about to jump out of your throat.

He's here. And you could meet him.

Your legs felt so weak, but you pushed on, taking big steps. Going from tree to tree, so you wouldn't fall. You could hear your own breath, and your ears ringing.

You noticed an orange hue, flickering in a distance. It must be his camp.

You started running, almost got tripped by the tree roots a couple of times.

And there it was. The camp.

You recgonized both of his swords, placing on top of the traveling bag which ususally served as his pillow. And Roach. A different Roach, probably the successor of the one you knew. The fire was crackling, slowly dying. But he's no where to be seen.

Perhaps he just went to take a leak.

You sat down by the fire, feeling your legs trembling from the run.

The woods was very quiet, you looked around, didn't see any moving shape.

Where did he go?

You got nostalgic looking at how he set up this camp, he got his own way of organizing things, though you doubt he's aware of that. You remembered moving his shit when he wasn't looking to test your theory, and noticed him getting annoyed and putting them back to where they were, without even realizing what he was doing.

Would he be happy seeing you here? What should you say? Hi? No, that's too casual... Long time no see? That's too awkward... How's it goin'? Terrible... You should have prepared, wrote a speech, and memorized it so when you're in this moment you'd know what to do...

You threw the blanket around your shoulders and hugged your knees.

Do you talk about the past? The day you left? Do you be mad at him? Scream at him and let him know how hurt you were? What you've been through? Is it wise to bring up something so long ago?

Maybe you shouldn't meet him now. You weren't even fully recovered. What if he's not ready to meet you as well? What if...

You held your knees closer to your chest, debating whether you should get up and leave right now.

Then you heard footsteps.

He thought he saw someone by his fire. He thought he was still in a dream- a good one, for once. He wanted to rub his eyes to be sure that the face staring up at him wasn't of his imagination, but he got an armfull of twigs and branches. So he just stood there, staring.

You awkwardly stood up. Still haven't figured out what to say.

"...Hey." It came out like a whisper.

A long pause.

"...Hi."

You unconsciously started picking on your nails.

"...I heard that you're um, banned."

"...I did."

"Sorry... He's just, overprotective..."

No response.

You took a breath in, feeling so nervous that you might pass out.

"I, um, just wanna make sure you're ok..." you averted your gaze, "...Had to see with my own eyes... And I wanted to give you this-" you took the coin necklace off, "You should have it... You need luck more than I do." You placed the necklace on the top of the wood pile, "Sorry that I made fun of you-"

He snached your arm. The firewood fell onto the ground but he didn't seem to care.

You panicked. You're not ready. This is a mistake.

You pulled your arm away, "-I should go."

"No." he pulled you into his arms, "Don't go."

Your chin touching his shoulder, "Geralt-" "Don't leave... I'll wake up soon anyways..." You bit your lower lip, trying hard to hold back tears.

"...I miss you..." he whispered, "...Please stay..." You closed your eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks, "...I'm not the same person anymore." your lips were trembling. "I don't care... I don't care..."

Morning in the woods was always cool, a layer of mist hanging low above the ground, dew sparkling on the grass.

You woke up. His face was just a few inches away.

He had you wrapped up in your blanket like a burrito, and held you close like a kid worrying his carnival prized be stolen when he's sleeping. You stared at his face, had no intention to break free from his grip.

He looked terrible, heavy dark circles hanging under his eyes with sunken cheeks. If his hair wasn't already white it probably would be at this point. There's a scar he didn't have when you were with him, a small one on his right temple close to his hairline. You quietly raised your hand, finger tip barely touched the scar.

He opened his eyes.

"...Am I still dreaming?" he asked softly. "...You could be." you tried not to smile, "Wanna find out?" "...What are you suggesting?" "Mm... I could slap you? In the face? They say that you won't feel pain if you're dreaming. Or is it 'pain will wake you up from a dream'?" "..." He stared at your face for a while.

"How long do I have?" he asked. You hesitated, "...I need to be back today. Helvit'tar went out for a job, cuz I'm taking a 'sick leave'." you tried to make a joke. He didn't even smile.

There was an awkward silence.

He sat up, wiped his face with his hand.

"...Geralt, can we... talk?" you looked at him nervously.

He nodded.

You sat acrossed the fire, having the blanket over your laps, quietly speaking over a cup of steaming broth in your hands. Geralt sitting opposite of you, staring at the fire, listening.

You told him everything. From the moment that you picked up your backpack and walked away, to when you woke up after being resurrected. You spoke slow, sometimes with choked up words and shaky hands, but you didn't stop.

He didn't ask any questions, didn't make any faces. He just sat there, staring at the fire.

Finally, you finished your story, and moved your gaze up to his face when you didn't hear any response. And saw a familiar expression.

"...Geralt? Geralt. Look at me... Please?" It took him a minute to raise his gaze and meet yours. "I'm not telling you my story to make you feel bad. As much as I want to blame everything on someone, it's not your fault, the guy who's really responsible is dead now." "..." "And it doesn't mean that I think what you said to me was ok. It was hurtful, you broke my heart, you were an asshole-" "-I'm sorry-" "-As you should be. But you're only allowed to feel sorry about the hurtful speech you gave me, nothing else." "..."

He clenched his jaw. It pained him to know he was so close to that tower, if he wasn't so blinded by his emotions and ego, he could have saved you.

You put down the cup, went over to him, and held his head up with your hands, "Hey, you don't get to blame and pity yourself, that's my job, snap out of it." "...I'm so sorry..." his words trembling.

"...If you truly are sorry, better start making it up to me." He gave you a puzzled look. "I'm not gonna forgive you just because you apologized. In fact, I'll never forgive you." you said softly, thumbs wiped past the corner of his eyes, "So, do your best, you got a lot to make up for."

He pulled your hands away, gently held them in his. "How can I make it up to you when I'm not allowed to be with you?" he rubbed his thumbs on your knuckles. You felt your heart skip a beat.

"...Well, let's go then." you pulled on his hands, "Let's go home together and persuade them. If Helvit'tar refuses to let you see me, I'll just run away with you." "Run away?" "...Yea well obviously I'll sneak back and visit them they are family you don't just run away from family..." he chuckled as he heard that familiar babble.

He stood up, "Alright." and put out the campfire, "I hope this time they don't teleport me." "You might already be dead when they teleport you." you said while helping him pack. "Hmm, that's more ideal." "...What is this fear of teleportation of yours?" "I don't fear it, I simply don't like it." ......

§ END OF SERIES §

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #geralt x reader

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thewanderingbutler · 2 years

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I am kind of not posting.... (sorry)

With school up ahead and my fixation on Travis waning I may or may not post in the future. Thank you everyone for all your patience and support. I'm still grappling with the fact that people actually like my writing.

Fast Click to Travis Hackett x Reader Chapter List

Here's some gifs of Ted Raimi as a token of my appreciation

Ted Raimi : Lunatics! A Love Story (1991)

Tag list: @lokigirlszendaya ~ @sparker0 ~ @our-legacy ~ @importantvoidpolice ~ @theroadreader ~ @themisspureimagination ~ @madysenbeth ~ @mediocrecyrus ~ @ayamenimthiriel ~ @bellaboo303 ~ @littlemisfortunes-world ~ @myparentsaintheroes ~ @buttbuild ~ @ierillia ~ @aaetherr69 ~ @xxlokisgloriouspurposexx ~ @shebeast7121scared ~ @fangirlapril2004 ~ @thelittlexd11 ~ @friedhofcreative ~ @honeycovered-bandaids ~ @uska-jules ~ @valhallavalkyrie9 ~ @bubblebuttwade ~ @stuttermaple ~ @shutupwylow

#ted raimi #lunatics a love story #travis hackett #travis hackett x reader #travis hackett smut #travis hackett x you #the quarry x you #his neck #bejesus

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what-the--curtains · 2 years

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There Are No Wolves In the Desert

Part 4: A Story In the Sand

(Oberyn Martell x f!reader)

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Summary: Following Ariannes' journal like a map, you and Oberyn trek deep into the desert. What you find out in the sand is unexpected, though entirely unsurprising. As you return to the palace feelings come to fruition, ones you though impossible to feel again. Would they be enough to deter you from a dangerous quest laid before you. One that offered a road to redemption.

Authors Notes: A long awaited return to this fic and the GOT universe! Anyone still here? Let me know if you dont want to be tagged anymore!

TW: Sex (mentioned not depicted), Blood, Violence, Burning, Kidnapping, Dead bodies

Word Count: 6.3k

Tagged: @evyiione, @xsadderdazeforeverx, @agingerindenial, @ayamenimthiriel

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The red hues of the rising sun paint the outside of the wooden stables you walk towards. The smell of straw and manure fills your nostrils as you enter through its immaculate doors, the shade of the structure cooling you off as you take note of Oberyn. He had for-gone his typical golden hued robes for armour not too dissimilar from yours. A single horse standing in the cross ties.

“Can you ride?” he questions, hand smoothing the colourful fabric over the creature's back.

“I can ride my prince,” you say, “what?” you question noting the bemused expression on his face

“Nothing, nothing at all,” he replies, as you spread a map out onto a nearby crate, opening Arianne’s journal

“Your daughter handed me this yesterday,” you say, ignoring the sudden heat rushing over your body as Oberyn comes to look over your shoulder.

“What is that?” he asks

“Ariannes journal,” you reply.

“They must have broken into her chambers to get it,” he murmurs

“Broken in?” you question head turning back to him, causing him to return to his full height.

“She was under strict watch until, well now. What do the pages say?” Oberyn probes.

“She’d been planning on leaving for some time, though she doesn't go into detail as to why. I assume it's due to being locked up like a common prisoner. She convinced those that brought her food and guarded her to help her escape,” you say. “My brother feared she would be murdered after our sisters death, so he kept her under close watch, ” Oberyn admits

“He made her a prisoner, in her own home,” you spit

“I did not say his reasons were valid,” he remarks, watching you eye him. “By the looks of it she was planning on heading to Norvos,” you state, making a mark on the large map. “which means if she's as smart as her entries would have me believe, they would have taken the longer cut through the desert, to avoid any bandit groups, or watchguards,” you continue, tracing the route down on the map, “do you know the surrounding terrain well?”

“Yes it’s flat sand mainly, a few rock forests, some dunes. The heat is the main concern, or perhaps the lack of water, and the scorpions of course,” he lists, unphased.

“It's about a day's journey, so we will have to make camp at night, though I am more than capable of going alone, if you are needed here,” you say, turning to face him, giving him an out, assuming he preferred the comforts of the palace.

“I am needed to find my niece,” he assures you dutiful to his role as ever.

“Then we should depart as soon as we can” you say, as the stable boy reappears with another horse for you. It nudges its long nose into your back, pushing you forward slightly Oberyn's hand stopping you from hitting into his body. You turn, a smile spreading across your face as you chuckle in disbelief.

“rytsas uēpa raqiros” *Hello old friend* you whisper, resting your head against its snout.

“Seems you know one another, ” Oberyn says.

“I sold this horse three years ago to one of your palace guards,” you chuckle as it nudges into your face “or did you know that already?” you ask, looking back to him.

“I may be good, but I'm not that good,” he admits “ it seems destiny has brought you here after all.”

“Destiny or fate?” you question

“Does it make a difference?”

“All the difference in the world,” you say stroking the creature's long nose, its large eyes blinking at you, ears relaxed.

“She reminds me of you,” Oberyn states.

“Is it the hair,” you remark and he laughs, caught off guard by the joke.

“Perhaps, do you need a saddle?”

“I can make do without one,” you say, hoisting yourself up onto the back of your horse before following Oberyn out the gates into the Dornish wilderness.

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“I wasn't aware they spoke High Valyrian in the north, nor that the schools taught it,” Oberyn states, turning around on his horse to face you. His eyes sparkled in the sun, the hint of playfulness dancing on his face as he began to engage you in conversation.

“gaomis daor” *they do not* you say smiling at the look on Oberyn's face as he tries to parse out the language from the multitude of others he had learnt as a child. Perhaps he should have paid closer attention to his studies.

“You don't speak it?” You ask, surprised considering his accolades. “Not as well as I should and not since my school days,” he admits, immediately regretting his decision when a wicked grin crosses your face.. “kostilus lo ēdā pikībagon tolī pār ēdā ēdas qogror ao'd gīmigon skoros vestran” *perhaps if you had read more, then you'd know what I was saying* you laugh, causing Oberyn to grumble before turning back ahead. You kick into a canter, pulling up beside him to continue your provocation. “kostilus nyke kessa ánghowa ao isse Valyrīha pār” *perhaps I will insult you in Valyrian then*

“I do know a few words, sīr urnēbagon aōha ēngos,” *so watch your tongue* he shoots back clumsily causing you to chuckle slightly watching his jaw clench eyes looking at you, almost annoyed. Seeing the look on his face you break off into a canter and he follows suite.

The two of you ride in relative silence until the sky sinks into a deep indigo, the black of night creeping up threatening to expose the stars.

“Shall we make camp here?” he questions and you halt your horse, hopping down to assess the area. You push on the few standing trees, sturdy enough to tie the horses too for the night. The area was open, exposed, but so was everywhere in the desert. You roll a dead log over and a scorpion scurries out. You stab it with your knife.

“Should do for the night, though we should keep watch just in case,” you say gazing up at him as he dismounts. Opening the side satchel and retrieving your provisions for the next day and a half. You break off a portion of the deadwood pairing it with the desert grass as kindling, blowing on the ember until it turns to flame. While Dorne remained hot throughout the year, its winter months were marked by cold nights, the desert retaining little heat and temperatures becoming frigid.

You shuffle through the bag you had packed pulling out a long rope wrapping it around the camp area.

“Afraid of snakes my lady?” Oberyn queries, a laugh dancing on his lips.

“Only the venomous ones,” you retort as you lay the rope flat, ends overlapping. “What about vipers?” he asks, prodding the fire causing the flames to flicker, the sparks beginning to burn bright as night falls.

“Gentler than I initially thought, still deadly, always lying in wait. If pushed their prey doesn't stand a chance. I do hope I have no reason to fear a viper attack,” you respond as you drag the remaining driftwood into the circle huffing as you let it drop, slightly displeased that Oberyn had taken the optimal resting spot beneath the two trees. You drop to the sand propping yourself up, chest heaving. You shoot him a glare for not helping you as he throws you half a loaf of bread and some cured meats the palace chefs had prepared.

“You have no reason to fear me, though that glare has me fearing for myself,” he chuckles, tearing off a piece of the dried meat with his teeth. Your glare softens, something about the Prince often managing to lessen your frustration.

‘I wasn’t sure you’d be able to sleep outside your usual comforts,” you say, chewing on the salted meat, eyes looking just above his head.

“I attended a brothel before I left. Such pleasures make trips such as these much more… bearable,” he admits, tearing off a corner of the bread and popping it in his mouth.

“Especially when the return promises a warm bed and warm hole to bury yourself in,” you state. Oberyn chokes on a piece of bread coughing it up before breaking into a deep laugh.

“Did you parents ever teach you proper manners, or is it true the northerners are as brutish as the rumours claim,” he ponders gleefully, wiping his lower lip slowly with his thumb, eyes still on you.

“My apologies, must be easier for you to have a man or woman to bury yourself into at the end of such a displeasing trip with such unsatisfying company my prince,” you offer, smiling sarcastically at him.

“Perhaps I'll have to do something about that tongue of yours discipline you, seeing as no one else had bothered,” he remarks, eyes darker, slightly more dangerous than before. You squeeze your thighs together shifting your weight slightly, his words sending a sensation through you.

“Or you could save time and have me hung,” you offer, trying to direct your attention away from the heat pooling at your core.

“That would save me hours, but it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun,” he confesses, beginning to grow bolder as he watches your positive reactions to his words.

“This is all very improper,” you say stoically, “you are a prince after all, you should know better than to speak to your subjects in such an adulterous manner,” you prod,

“Princes are well known for disciplining those who speak out of turn,” he says

“All princes or just those who sleep with half of Westeros?” you chide

“You say that as if it is an insult, your puritanical Westeros beliefs would lead you to see me as a walking sin,” he states, head thrown back in a building laughter.

“Aren’t you though?”

“I see something I want and if they want me I take them, there is nothing wrong there,”

“Your daughter seems to think, you only invited me back to the safety of your home based on my appearance” you state, keen to find out if he merely saw you as another pretty thing to have.

“And what if that was true,” he queries

“Then you're not the man I hoped you were. To show kindness to someone solely because of there face,” you scoff, shaking your head

“Perhaps you have mistaken me then, though I would have allowed anyone to stay safely in the walls if needed, besides I find beauty in all the sun shines down on,” he says, confused as to what he had said to upset you, you were beautiful he’d be foolish not to pursue you.

“I'll take the first watch,” you say, tiring of the conversation at hand.

“I…” Oberyn begins, but you cut him off.

“I insist, you are a prince after all and I am but a humble subject, my duty is to watch out for you,” you state, he raises eyebrows before leaning back against the tree crossing his arms over his chest and falling asleep.

The moon was bright tonight and it's cool tones paired with the fire’s warm hues illuminated the prince in a magnificent way. You study his handsome features as you try to unpack the feelings that had been clawing their way out of the cage you had built around your heart. You pull Robbs knife out holding it up hoping for some kind of divine sign you suppose, but nothing comes. You loved Robb, you thought of him every day and every day you hoped that he’d return, or that you’d wake up and he would be next to you, all of this nothing more than a bad dream. But you knew such thoughts were foolish, Robb was dead, he wasn’t coming back to you, at least not in this life. Your eyes rise once again to Oberyn. You watch his chest rise and fall, longing to feel his arms wrap around you, but this thought was equally as foolish. His flirtatious nature towards you was obvious, but it was the same with everyone. As he said, he finds beauty in all the sun shines down on and those he finds beautiful he brings to his chambers. You weren’t willing to abandon your husband for a brief moment of fleeting passion. Besides you were sure he’d be bored of you when the morning came. Your future held no such luxury of finding peace with another. No, any hopes of that died long ago. You lean back against the log waiting for the sun to rise, problems always seemingly less heavy in the warm glow of the morning. The sun begins to creep over the horizon, the fire only embers now. You throw sand over it snuffing it out before lightly kicking Oberyn's boot. He opens one eye first, displeased as the being awoken as such much preferring waking in the arms of two or three, or four lovers, though he would have happily settled for a single individual had they asked. He looks up to see you illuminated by the sun, a golden aura radiating around you.

“Why didn't you wake me sooner” he asks, both eyes now open and alert to the fact you had let him sleep through the night. “Wasn't tired, besides you're much more agreeable when you're asleep,” you joke, smirking down at him. “You’re more agreeable when I'm asleep as well,” he retorts, causing you to chuckle

“Not far now my prince,” you say, reaching your hand out and pulling him up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun radiates off the desert sand, a stark contrast from the cold of the night. You’re sweating heavily when you bring your horse to a halt, Oberyn mimicking your behaviour watching as you dismounted into what appeared to be yet another expanse of the desert. You kneel down on the sand wincing at the pull of an old injury. The surface is hot to touch. You run your fingers through the first few layers, it's cool beneath. Noticing a small dip in the ground you crawl ahead a few inches. You scoop up the sand bringing it to your nose, the smell of copper fills your nostrils, you dig a little deeper. The sand now clumped together. Liquid had been spilt here, but there had been no rain for at least a fortnight. This, this was blood. You stand up scanning for other dips in the ground, potential burials, any weapons, a trail of blood, but there's nothing but the small indentation where you stood.

“How old is Arianne?” you ask

“10 and 6” Oberyn responds, still mounted on his horse staring down at you doubtfully.

“Is she a slight girl?” you continue to question.

“Average sized,”

“Less than a large footsoldier though?” you ask, beginning to get frustrated with his refusal to directly answer your question.

‘Yes,” Oberyn answers, brow creased as the sun hits his eyes. Too much blood for a girl her age. A shimmer catches the corner of your eye and you bend down retrieving a reflective arrow tip. Only then do you notice the trails, likely left by footprints, evidence of hand to hand combat.

“There was a fight, it began here, but it's not where it ended, how many men were with her?” you ask

“Three,” he says, watching you staring in the distance towards a large dune “what do you see?” he queries, increasingly interested in the inner workings of your mind.

“Carrion,” you say walking back towards him.

“Vultures?”

“Could be a dead animal, could be human,” you say swinging yourself back up onto your horse and trotting towards the birds which scatter upon your arrival. The dune covered a deep windswept valley, large rock formations created by high speed winds decorating the basin.

The maze stretches a few hundred miles, as you begin to descend your foot kicks something heavy, causing you to curse the gods loudly just as Oberyn arrives by your side. Before he can ask if you’re injured you’re on your knees digging at the area, pulling out a metal shoulder piece

“One of yours?” you ask

“ That is our sigil” he says, watching your nose scrunch in disgust.

“Do you smell that?” you ask.

“What?” he asks

“Death,” you say, his face hardens as you continue down the dune, following your nose through the rock formations. Oberyn follows you curiously through the naturally formed maze. He sees you standing, and his eyes follow your line of sight up until he sees what has stopped you. Three bodies slowly decomposing in the heat, skin pecked at by scavengers, a large pile of ash beneath them.

“Must have been her carriage,” you say crouching down, most of the pile had blown away only the heavier fragments left, a few large pieces of wood and metal, you brush it away, revealing a locket among the ash. You pick it up dusting it off before offering the locket to Oberyn. You watch his knuckles turn white clutching at the chain. He’d given this to Arianne for her birthday.

“Is she,” Oberyn hisses, an anger radiating through his body.

“No. There's no sign of a burnt body, ” you reassure and he exhales,

“These men they did not deserve this death even if they plotted against the crown princes wishes,”

“I can lead a party out, another day make sure they are returned to their families and buried properly.” “Thank you,” Oberyn says..

“This was an ambush,” You assure, it was carefully planned out, but how could they have known that she was planning on leaving? “but it…” you continue, shaking your head letting your thoughts trail off.

“What?” he asks staring down at you in wonderment

“It didn’t occur here,” your forehead scrunched a look of perplexity and complete concentration etched on your face “why did they move the bodies here, and the carriage just to burn it, that’s a lot of effort.”

“To hide the evidence, they knew we’d come looking for her,” Oberyn offers as an explanation.

“If they had burnt it where it occurred then buried it, we'd never find them. This…” you say gesturing to the bodies “this was a warning. Posting them up like this they knew we would find them here. Why here, why not where the fight occurred.” “To discredit them in death” he offers again, watching your head suddenly look up, eyes scanning.

“How many men,”

“Three,” he repeats “All trained in combat?”

“They would have been at least able to hold a spear, to guard the princess,” before he can finish, you turn on your heel and rush back to the horses, remounting and heading back to the skirmish site.

By the time Oberyn reaches you, your elbow is deep in the sand. Oberyn was right, these were good men, ones who deserved a burial. A similar thought would have likely crossed the minds of the ambushers. Returning to wherever they came from with even one dead body would be too much of a task, they would have had to abandon their fallen. But they wouldn't have abandoned their religion, a burial at an unmarked grave is better than none after all, and one skilled dornish fighter would have taken down at least one opponent. Your nails fill with sand, the heat scorching your skin as you dig towards your answer. He watches as an arm appears from the ground and he crouches down next to help, but you place your hand on his chest, stopping him. Gripping the dead man's hand you lift up his hand, a ring with a golden lion forged into it.

“Lannister” he spits

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two of you stroll through the trees that dress the mountains, the cover of shade paired with the sun going down offering a cold more resemblant of your home especially as you climb higher towards the peak. Despite your initial uneasiness about being led far into the mountain alone with one of the deadliest men in the seven kingdoms, he had assured you he merely wanted to speak freely away from the court. As the trees part you come upon the mountain top where snow was beginning to fall. Your eyes then go to a series of ancient ruins, a hearth burning in the middle, tapestries draped along the pillars and a bed made up, with furs. You turn to look up at Oberny who for once, looks nervous.

“You said you missed the cold, this is as cold as it gets here, a small thank you for finding the evidence needed. I do not think anyone else would have figured it out,” he says as a feeling you hadn’t felt in years coming over you.

“Thank you” you whisper, “but I'm sure any good tracker would have found the same,” you state attempting to hide your sudden embarrassment.

“There are guards a mile down shout if you need them, thought I doubt they would be able to protect you better than you could protect yourself , I'll collect you tomorrow, if you’d like,” he says

“I’d like that very much,” you admit, and he smiles before heading back towards the woods.

“Prince Oberyn,” you call, and he stops turning back “Thank you,” he nods and walks off

You remove your clothes and stand in the breeze allowing the chill to ripple over your body until goosebumps form. You smile and let out a slow breath a cloud forming in front of you, as snow falls lightly around you. It was a reminder of home and you close your eyes, a tear falling as you exhale. You walk towards the ruins and settle under the sheets, the crackling of the fire luling you to sleep until you hear footsteps approaching, multiple men.

You grab your dagger and throw it hitting one in the jugular, blood spurting out as you roll out of the bed and duck behind the ruins near the body. You’re preparing to fight when a spear pierces the air impaling one of the approaching figures causing the other to turn towards the woods. He doesn't make it far. A strong arm stops him and slits his throat. You relax when you see Oberyn appear from the shadows.

“Lady Stark, I heard of an attempt, I apologise for...” His words are cut short when he sees you walk out from behind the ruins to your tunic pulling it over your naked skin.

“Careful, my prince you'll catch flies,” you chuckle, before dragging one of the bodies over the cliff.

“I can see why he screwed over an entire kingdom to marry you,” he says.

“You couldn't see that before you saw me naked? Help me with this,” you say, grabbing the final man's feet as Oberyn grabs his arms.

“Even more so now. You have more scars than I had thought, do you have a favourite?” He asks as you both throw the body down the mountain side.

“I do, care to hazard a guess,” you say, wiping your hands clean.

“I'd need a longer look,” he offers, raising his eyebrows.

“Of that i'm sure, I must thank you again for tonight, seems as though my life is owed to you twice over,”

“Perhaps I can ask another favour then. As for now it's late and a long walk back, so I will be on my way,” he bows his head before turning on his heels.

“Why don’t you stay, as it's such a long way down,” you ask, suddenly feeling overly exposed, more so than when you stood naked before him.

“Only if you wish,” he says, surprised.

“Only if you think you can brave the cold for the night” you say returning to the bed after reclaiming your knife. He joins you shortly after, removing the top half of his attire, despite preferring to sleep completely bare, he wasn't about to make you feel uncomfortable. He shivers in the cold, while this chill was likely nothing to you, Oberyn had rarely spent time in anything below comfortably warm. His shiver continues even beneath the furs and you feel it.

“I'd like to see you In the north, you wouldn't last a month,” you murmur, turning to your side facing his direction.

“Are you saying I'm soft?” he asks, remaining on his back, head turning to you, a slightly disgruntled look on his face.

“No, but you're not weathered,” you state, sitting up removing one of the furs covering you and placing it over Oberyn who looks up, the warmth of your breath clouding in the air, as snow falls lightly around you, not a goosebump on your body.

“Not like you late husband” he questions pulling the blanket up to himself and you ignore him, laying back down. “Do you think he would truly wish you to be alone? To live the rest of your life without pleasure?” Oberyn, queries.

“No…but,” you begin,

“but what, you do not do him a disservice by allowing another to give you love.” Oberyn stresses, beginning to warm.

“Is that what you offer?” you ask, a look of suspicion on your face.

“Yes,” he offers earnestly, shifting up onto his arm so the blankets fall slightly.

“As you do all you find appealing,” you state, eyes locked on his bare chest.

“yes, and no,” he says, hand going down lifting your eyes to meet his “I enjoy divulging in all of life's pleasures, my body belongs to all those that catch my eye, but my heart I do reserve that primarily for one” he says softly, your heart now beating faster than it ever had.

“Reserved” you correct, quietly.

“Ellaria was my greatest love, I would have kept her with me until the end, had the Lannisters not taken her from me,” his hand now dancing over the wound above your shoulder, eyes still boring into yours, leaving you nowhere to hide.

“Then you know how I feel,” you whisper breathlessly.

“No, my heart is willing to accept love again because I knew that is what she would want. I fear you are unable to see that it is what your husband would have wanted as well,”

“Part of me died that day on the docks, part of my heart will always be with him, but today I thought...maybe,” you stutter, a tear falling from your eye rolling down your cheek, you go to brush it away embarrassed, but Oberyn beats you to it. Gently running his thumb softly along your cheekbone.

“It is not a betrayal of your love for him, I do not presume you to abandon him, I wish merely to bring you some semblance of joy.”

With that you roll over so you straddling him and he sits up hand reaching to the back off your head pulling you down to meet his lips. A fire builds inside you upon contact and your hands move to your tunic, only parting from his lips to rip it from your body. You look down hesitantly, unsure it was what he would have expected, or what he wanted, not as pretty and smooth as those of the brothel. Oberyn no longer shivering even with the blankets fallen to the side, his eyes drinking in every ounce of your being.

“Are you sure?” Oberyn asks, hands running up and down your sides.

“Yes,” you say firmly, before leaning down kissing him again.

He'd kept you close to him in the night even after you’d tried to pull away to the other side of the bed. You had been right, one appeal of the cold was being trapped beneath the naked body of one you loved. He wakes first, trailing his fingers lightly across your body until he sees your eyes bat open.

“Now I really understand why he risked his reign for you,” Oberyn whispers, kissing your scrunched up forehead. You yawn, detaching from him and manoeuvring onto your back as His hand trails over the wound above your shoulder “this is your favourite” he states and you look up to him, “I guessed correctly” he laughs at the way your mouth hangs open.

“How?”

“You can track lands, I can track bodies” he says, placing a kiss over it trailing up to your lips.

“Can you now?”

“I thought you knew that, based on your loud approval last night,” he remarks and you shake your head chuckling slightly “If you don’t remember, perhaps I can remind you this morning” he says nipping at your jaw and dipping below the sheets.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You return together the next morning only to see the crown prince pacing frantically

“Brother, come now a council has been called. Who is this?” he asks, pointing at you.

“Someone who has a stake in the game”

“Very well,” he replies, gesturing for you both to follow

“Arianne is in king's landing, confirmed today by this letter penned by Cersei herself,” Doran confesses as the advisors close the doors to the marbled room.

‘What?” he spits, tearing the piece of paper from between Dorans hands.

“They have taken her, stating she was plotting to murder the Lannister princess,” Doran says

“Was she?” you whisper to Tyene who shrugs her shoulders.

“She awaits a trial, a trial by combat” Doran continues

“Bastards,” Oberyn exclaimed, hands slamming down on the stone table. “ Send me brother, I will fight for her, I will get you daughter. I have done it once, I shall do so again.”

“If you go they kill you in the streets,” Tyene pipes up, causing her father to turn to her.

“I’d like to see them try, ” Obery spits, more fire than you’d ever seen radiating around him, as the room breaks out into pointless bickering.

“Let me go,” you interject all those in the room turning to face you.

“And, why would I allow one of my brothers whores to go and retrieve my daughter?” Doran scoffs.

“Because, I would very much like to gain some kind of revenge on those who butchered my husband and all the events that occurred the night of the red wedding.” You say pulling down your hood, exposing your identity to the room full of strangers.

“Lady Stark, but you’re supposed to be dead,” the grand maester whispers.

“Medical marvel,” you assure

“And you would fight for us,” Doran queries Tyene and the rest of the scattered sand snakes staring at you.

“I would, if any of your family ventures to Kings Landing they will be killed on sight. I on the other hand am the last person they would expect to show up. Though, I must admit my business there may extend over to a few other debts the Lannisters owe me”

“This activity?” another council member begins to probe

“Would only occur after Arianne is safely back on a ship,” you see Oberyn fidget “with proper antivenoms, anti poisons, everything and a skilled healer on board, just in case”

“You would remain there for how long after?”

“Only for a few extra hours perhaps a day, you would have no role to play in my removal, I am more than capable of finding my own way out,” you promise

“Who fights for the Lannisters?” Nymeria asks,

“They say a man carved from stone, reanimated from the dead, the size of two men” The grand maester begins, “It's rumoured the queens sorcerer managed to salvage the Mountain after Oberyn's victory.”

“But those are just rumours sprouted from venomous tongues, as such my offer still stands,” you assure.

“No,'' Oberyn interjected, eyes narrowed at you, shooting daggers. Your head turns on a swivel, furious.

“Why not? I am capable” you explain.

“Did you not hear them, the mountain fights for the Lannister”

“I've taken down worse,” you snap, all semblance of properness lost

“He’ll kill,” you he states calmly , his eyes stormy

“He didn’t kill you,” you retort

“No but I killed him and yet he is still alive, whatever that man is, is long gone,” The two of you locked in a glare, you failing to find a response that wouldn’t paint you as childish.

“Then we're in agreement, we find someone else,” he punctuates making you feel like a scolded child. The tension hangs heavy on the room, unsettling a few of the council members as your eyes bear into his before leaning back against the wall. As the meeting ends Oberyn waits by the door, but you refuse to move, you shoot him a glare and he raises his eyebrows shaking his head before exiting the room.

“Prince Doran, a word if I may,” you ask, as he passes by you. He hesitates but nods to his two advisors to carry on and turns to you.

“I will go, I will defeat the Mountain, or at least secure Arianne a contingency plan if all else fails.”

“My lady, I am afraid my brother will not have it...” he states.

“Your brother doesn't control me, and as you said I am just another of his whores. I am free to make whatever decision I see fit,” he sighs, scanning you up and down assessing whether you could be successful.

“You are sure you can retrieve her,” Doran asks, looking up into your eyes searching for the answer.

“I am sure I have a better chance at it than any of your family, ”

“We will have a ship on standby for you the following day,”

“No need, I do not expect to return from this,” you mutter and his eyes narrow, “I am no fool, the odds are not in my favour, but I must try...” you pause nodding your head “I must try and make things right.”

“Oberyn?”

“Will know nothing of this, nothing of this meeting, or of this plan, hold a ship for me if you wish but do not hold out hope.”

“Arianne returns alive” he demands.

“I promise you that” you affirm before he calls for an advisor to escort him out the room.

As you exit the council room you begin towards Oberyn chambers. If you were to be gone tomorrow you knew where you wanted to be tonight. As you open the door you chuckle at the sight before you, Oberyn entangled with two of his lovers, both resting against his chest, sweaty and panting slightly. He leans over to kiss the man on his left before addressing you.

“I did not expect to see you here tonight,” he says as the woman bites at his jawline. “Why's that?” you question. “I thought you were going to rip my head off in that meeting,” he chuckles, pulling the woman's hair back to kiss her.

“I don’t enjoy my ability to choose being removed,” you scorn.

“Is that all you came to say?” he questions.

“I suppose, goodnight Prince Oberyn…” you begin, turning to exit, hoping to call him on his bluff.

“Vorian, take Fryenne to my guest chamber, show her a good time,” he says, slapping the man's ass as he exits the sheets. “Will you not join my Prince, I have always wanted to try a Targaryen,” she whispers into his ear, blushing slightly.

“Not tonight my dove, we have business to discuss,”

“Perhaps another time,” she says wistfully as she approaches you, running her hand up your arm planting a soft kiss on your lips before exiting. Your mouth hangs open brows gently creased at the sensation, your eyes following her out the room.

“You like that one?” Oberyn smirks as you draw your eyes back to him “one night with me and you’re a convert to my lifestyle,” he remarks shifting out of the bed naked as the day he was born walking over to the counter and decanting wine into a goblet.

“Do you wish to have this conversation fully clothed?” he asks. “I did not come here for a conversation,” you admit.

“Then why are you still dressed? Strip,” he demands, you narrow your eyes at him. He walks towards you, eyes darker “You would disobey a prince?” He asks, walking behind you, lips ghosting along your neck. “Strip. You will listen to me tonight especially after your performance in that meeting. You should know better than to speak out of turn,” he orders.

You're awake, watching the night pass until the first light begins to creep into the room. Oberyn's arms are wrapped around you, his breath hitting your neck. You had tried to leave earlier but his strong grasp had trapped you in place. If this was to be one of your last nights on this earth, you were glad to have spent it in his arms. You lie there until you feel him stir, mouth peppering kisses on your neck.

“I wish to go to the brothel, will you join me?” he mumbles into your neck and you shake your head.

“I can refrain and stay here for the morning,” he starts.

“No go on I am just too tired,” you whisper, kissing him lightly.

“Then rest I will return later,” he kisses your nose, then your forehead before rising and dressing

“Oberyn,” you say sitting up in the large bed pulling the silks up to cover your chest.

“Yes?” he says, watching as your mouth opens. You’re trying to find words to express your feelings, but they never come.

“Nothing,” you say, offering a small smile.

Oberyn makes it to the front door of the brothel but something in his stomach feels off.

A feeling that had been growing since he left you, it was something in the way you had said his name in the cold light of day, almost as if you were saying goodbye. His steps get more rushed as he approaches the palace, swinging the doors to his chambers open. He looks to the handmaid who shakes her head in confusion. He swallows his rage, you wouldn’t have disobeyed him so blatantly, you wouldn't have left him without warning, without a goodbye. He walks quickly towards the garden until he finds Doran, his hand caressing a rose.

‘Where is she?” he demands despite already knowing the answer.

#game of thrones fic #oberyn martell x reader #prince oberyn #oberyn x you #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x you

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justagalwhowrites · 11 months

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Yearling - Tumblr Master List

Yearling: noun - A young horse, older than a foal but not yet two years old. - A still wild thing that is too new to tame

After years of surviving in the wilds of Wyoming after the cordyceps outbreak, you find yourself in Jackson. It's a town filled with friendly faces and the kind of world you hardly remember, let alone can connect with or understand. But one man - Joel Miller, another loner, like you - makes you think that trying to find your place in society again might be worth it.

On A03 | Spotify Playlist

WARNING: this fic does have plot overlap with TLOU2. It’s not a retelling of the game but if you want to go into season 2 spoiler free, approach with caution.

Chapter 1 - Break

Chapter 2 - Escape

Chapter 3 - Noise

Chapter 4 - Contribution

Chapter 5 - Movement

Chapter 6 - Shoot

Chapter 7 - Revival

Chapter 8 - Tipsy

Chapter 9 - Hold

Chapter 10 - Feral

Chapter 11 - Touch

Chapter 12 - Animals

Chapter 13 - Falling

Chapter 14 - Time

Chapter 15 - Past

Chapter 16 - Firsts

Chapter 17 - Stay

Chapter 18 - Reverse

Chapter 19 - Purpose

Chapter 20 - Healing

Chapter 21 - Holiday

Chapter 22 - Storm

Chapter 23 - Search

Chapter 24 - Return

Chapter 25 - Balance

Chapter 26 - Carved

Chapter 27 - Found

Chapter 28 - Newcomer

Chapter 29 - Together

Chapter 30 - Blood

Chapter 31 - Warmth

Chapter 32 - Promises

Chapter 33 - Discovery

Chapter 34 - Anything

Chapter 35 - Answers

Chapter 36 - Severed

Chapter 37 - Pieces

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass @planet-marz1 @kalea-bane @juneswonderlust @ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost @beccerjune @mumma-moonchild @netonetoneto @mellymbee @purplelye @n7cje @flugazi @evyiione @randomhoex @aliengirl99 @orcasoul @reds-ramblings @pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel @jenispunk @panda-pascal @sarap-77 @flugazi @your-slutty-gf @daniegraceg @partyofone3413 @cumberpegg @noisynightmarepoetry. @fifia-writes @grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123 @ashleyfilm @arizonadreamingg

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #smut fic #slow burn #friends to lovers #hbo the last of us #joel miller x oc #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader smut #eventual smut #eventual romance #angst #hurt/comfort #tlou2 spoilers

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

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Ghosts

[Waiting For A Lifetime IV] Part 1 2 3 4 ?

Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Aegon Targaryen x Reader + Aemond Targaryen x Reader + others (;

Summary: Ghosts will ride on to haunt you. Ghosts will come from your past, carrying a holy axe. Ghosts will taunt you you. Ghosts will come from your your memories, intent on burning the bridges at last.

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, Modern AU, smut (biting, hair pulling, but its honestly its vanilla, crying [they get pretty emotional], vaginal penetration, cream pie, cock warming), surface level knowledge on asoiaf lore, internet translated high valyrian, angst, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: welcome my meowmeows today we die- i i mean dine 😃 i say MDNI but its at the very end so once you reach that part, you can always choose not to read it. please keep in mind that I have little knowledge about any asoiaf lore so if you would like to correct me, have at me Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @pearlstiare @llovinjoonie @sabrina6272827 @ayamenimthiriel @comicsol1999 @fictionalcomforts @mirandastuckinthe80s @mooniesyubi @cookielovesbook-akie @panagiasikelia @mlwriting5 @bibli0thecary @ateliefloresdaprimavera @margaglitterdeath @fan-goddess @bibli0thecary @iamlost @queenofshinigamis @thebullship @slavyanskiyahui

"What are you doing?"

I look out the balcony. A wind blows across my body. My frilly lingerie flows in the wind.

"Come back inside, it's cold."

I lean on the fence. I look down at the view of Dorne as far as the eye could see. I release a breath.

I hear my name get spoken. It was no alias. No made up identity. It was my name. He calls out my name.

"I'm not cold," I mutter, mostly to myself.

A hand comes around my waist. I sigh as I am pulled in against a warm body. He hisses and presses his lips on my head, "you're ice cold, baby."

I shake my head, refusing to lean against him, "the sun hasn't shone yet. What do you expect the whether to be at this time?

He pushes my hair back and leans in to kiss my neck. His stubble scratches my skin. His deep voice utters, "I'll make you tea and breakfast..." both hands come to my stomach as he pulls me closer, "then toast, or waffles, or pancakes, or bac-"

He flinches and tightens his hold on me when there is a loud crash from the street below. He pulls away from me to check what happen. I don't look, instead I go inside.

"Fucking car crash," he calls out as I walk over to his bedroom, the bedroom that I had been staying in for far too long.

When I get there, I begin to pack my things and dress up. I catch my face in the mirror as I put on my pants. I freeze because of it. I trace the scars on my chest, from a dagger, I look at the marks at the curve of my jaw, from a sword, then I look at my hands, calloused centuries of memories. I feel hollow... hollower. I am reminded of my loneliness. I was devoid of purpose.

I look over my shoulder when I hear him call my name again. I hastily put the rest of my clothes on.

My purpose was not with him.

I shove clothes in my bag and zip it close.

He could not give me purpose.

I exit the bedroom before he can enter, and I head for the door. He catches my arm and stops me before I can walk any father. He says my name. I ignore him. He tugs my arm desperately, just how he repeats my name. I look at him, stoic, "I have to go."

His thick brows furrow. His jaw clenches. He shakes his head. He tightens his grip on my arm and steps forward, "I'm going to make you your fav-"

"I can't do this anymore, Bobby," I mutter sharply under my breath.

He freezes. I pull my arm away from him. I clutch my bag and face him fully, "our time is up."

He shakes his head. He places his hands on his hips. He calms his breathing. He speaks lowly, "stay for breakfast."

I press my lips into a soft smile, "you have been nothing but-"

"No."

"-kind, and sweet, and caring-"

"No. Please. No!"

"-and you are reason why I have gotten the closest I have to feeling love like this after such a long time-"

Bobby mutters my name and walks over to me. He clutches my bag and urges me toward him, "and I can show you more. Please, please just-"

I press my fingers on his lips. I shake my head and look at his glassy eyes. I brush back the short dark hairs by his forehead as I continue to disagree, "you deserve better than this."

"No I-"

"You deserve someone who's going to love you back."

"I don't want someone to love me back!" He grabs my shoulders, "I just want you."

I mutter his name but he does not hear it as he talks over me with a million offers, a million solutions, a million things he could and would do, so long as he could keep me.

I release my bag and clutch his shirt. I clench my jaw as tears leave my eyes at the sight of the ones streaming down his face. I release a sigh and lean into him. I silence him by claiming his mouth with my own. It is sad, it is desperate, it is salted with tears.

He pulls me against his chest. He does it with much vigor, intent on trapping me against his chest. He rubs my back and chases my mouth like it was his lifeline. He pushes me back. I let him push me back. He seals me against the wall and his arms, but then he dig his fingers into my waist band.

"Bobby-" I catch his wrists.

"Please," he mutters, kissing me again, "I'm good at his. I'm good at this... can make you feel good. Please."

I push him away before he can undo the button.

He whimpers. His voice cracks, "please- please, I can make you love me."

I shake my head. I ghost my fingertips on his temple, "not in this lifetime," I touch my lips on his cheek for the final time, "goodbye, Bobby."

I snap to my side, reeling out of my thoughts when I hear someone cough. I am back in reality, evidence was the sight of King Viserys' raised brows. I shrug and turn back to the artifact hung on the wall, "Dornish art to me is..." I brush away the memory that flooded my brain as I offered a smile to the man beside me, "heart ache and heat."

Viserys chuckles as he glances at the display, "that doesn't sound very enthusiastic. Are you not a fan of the Dornes?"

I release a breath, "I speak this with nothing but honesty," I raise my hands, "but I am biased to the aesthetics of the Targaryen dynasty."

The king laughs, "spoken like a true poet."

I press my lips into a soft smile, "well, I am a lover of many arts, my king." I motion to the exit of the exhibit, "perhaps, I think, you would enjoy this area of the museum much more, your majesty."

I lead the king (and his bodyguards) to the next section of the place. Immediately, the king reacts to the sight of the massive dragon skull in the middle of the room. He laughs as he nears the thing. I smile at the sight of his excited face.

"Balerion," the king says.

I tail after him as he moves to the inscription for the object, "indeed. The Black Dread, mount of King Aegon the first, King Maegor the first, Princess Aerea, and King Viserys the first."

The king chuckles under his breath as he shakes his head, "skoros iā ossȳngnon ziry would emagon issare."

What a terror he would have been.

I nod my head and look at the skull, "a fearsome and terrorizing beauty indeed."

Viserys turns to me just as I motion to the walls and begin to ramble about the history of it all, particularly nerding out over the massive painting depicting dragons, Targaryen princes, and civil war.

"You need not remind me of the history of my ancestors, pet," he says, walking up beside me, with his hands behind his back, "what I am more interested in is the rest of your tale with the prince."

I turn to Viserys and give him a smile and shrug, "as I said your grace, I have recounted all the memories I've had with your brother, prince Daemon the eighth."

The king makes a face, "huh," he raises a brow and narrows his eyes, "I don't suppose you have memories with prince Daemon the seventh then?"

I chuckle, "no," I shake my head, turning back to the painting, "only with Daemon the first."

The king laughs under his breath and turns to the painting as well.

"Oh yes I do hope you're enjoying yourself, brother."

Before I could react to the words that were spoken, I am pulled back and kissed on the neck. I turn from the painting, one of the many that visualized the Dance of the Dragons, then over my shoulder about the same time Viserys does.

"Daemon-" the king barks, eyes looking out to room, warry of everyone around. He does not continue when he hears the prince pipe up to me, "did he do anything unsavory to you, my love?"

This time, both Viserys and I speak his name, albeit starkly contrasting.

"Daemon," I mutter, as I try to push him away, "please, we are out in public. Some-"

"I don't give a fuck," Daemon cuts me off, ripping me back into him, "answer the question."

"Daemon," Viserys grumbles, stepping close, "unhand her."

"No!" Daemon snaps, shooting a look of daggers to his brother.

I gasp as I press my fingers to his lips. I slowly move away from him. "My love please," I whine, "the king has been nothing but kind to me and all he is asking for you to conduct you-"

"I will not have anyone, even the king, separate me from my bride," he yanks me close to him, arm coming around my shoulders.

My hands clutch his arms.

At that moment, because of how it reflected the light, Viserys spots the silver ring on his brother's bride. His eyes twitches as he rethinks the story of the personal vows. He scoffs, eyes darting back up to Daemon, "you do realize doing this makes her life more difficult."

Daemon turns to his brother, lips curling into a smile, although he was not amused by the thought even a fraction, "well then let me take her to Dragonston-"

"Keep your voice down," Viserys hisses, stepping closer.

Daemon pushes me behind him and moves towards the king, "lo ao sagon olvie gaomagon lēda aōha urnēptre hen kustikāne naejot ñuha ābrazȳrys, ao sȳrje sagon jāre sir."

If you're quite done with your show of strength to my wife, you best be going now.

"Daemon," I call out

Viserys makes a face as he scoffs. He shakes his head, "I'm doing this to protect you, Daemon."

"Well I don't want your protection," he mutters, "I can protect myself. I can protect her," he quips, "what I need is your-"

"My what?" Viserys cuts, "my blind obedience to your wishes?" He lets out another scoff, "perhaps you should have been born first and become king."

Daemon holds his tongue. This is why Viserys will never know that the word his baby brother meant to say was blessing.

Viserys pulls away from Daemon and masks his expression rather quickly when he hears one of the bodyguards tell off some people from trying to enter this part of the exhibit and for attempting to take pictures.

I watch as the lines on Daemon's face tighten. I watch as he presses his lips together in tension where Viserys loosens his jaw and takes a breath.

The king turns around, clapping his hands together, putting on a grin, "well, if I must leave, then I should have my photo be taken with the staff of the museum." He turns to me, "would you be a dear and invite your colleagues over for a photo?"

Daemon turns to me as Viserys points, "I should like one with Balerion."

I smile and nod, "of course, your grace."

When I move off to round up the museum personnel, Daemon grabs my arm and knits his brows. He presses his lips into a pleading frown and makes up for the space between us.

I sigh and shake my head, "calm down," I mutter in High Valyrian. I reach out for his cheek and brush his skin, "nothing will happen with me. I will be back soon."

Viserys knits his brows as he watches Daemon mutter pleas in their mother tongue not to be left alone. He feels a sting in his heart at the desperation of his brother. He is deeply disturbed by everything.

He then thinks about the admission he heard earlier, about when Daemon wandered off drunk and arrived at his 'wife's' home, nothing but actual sleeping happened. He wonders if Daemon will lose interest once they share a bed.

I sigh when Daemon steals a kiss from my lips. I brush his hair back and give him a smile before I walk off to do my business. Daemon refuses to release my hand until the very last moment. He leaves his arm hanging in the air as he watches me walk away.

Viserys watches Daemon watches me.

"Brother," Viserys says, "I am genuinely concerned for you."

Daemon turns to him, all the softness in his expression fading. He pettily ignores the king and turns to the painting on the wall. He crosses his arms and stares blankly.

The elder of the two sighs and beholds the same painting before him. Viserys thinks about the artistry but only for a moment because he beholds the fury of the dragons, the fury of the princes, the fire and the blood. He looks upon the legacy of his house, the strife of his kin, the romanticization of it all. Then he looks upon his brother. He looks at how his violet eyes glistened with the light from the room, and yet the light in his eyes was not there.

And he looked again when their picture was taken, how he smiled softly at the camera as he stood next to whom he was so adamant to be around. Viserys saw the change.

Daemon places his arm over both me and one other employee. I turn to Bertha as she grins and says, "the prince has his arm on our shoulders."

I grin back at her as Daemon smiles at me, "well, I must constantly be surrounded have a beautiful woman in my arm," he turns to Bertha, "now I have two."

Bertha giggles as I shake my head.

I turn to Aemond to my right. He is rigid beside me, and so pull him close and offer a smile. He mumbles under his breath, "I can do something if you're not uncomfortable with having your photo taken."

I give him a quick smile and shake my head, "it'll be fine."

Aemond clenches his jaw. He turns away just before Daemon shoots him a look.

"Alright everyone," the photographer says, "big smile in 3, 2, 1."

The photo ends up on the news, on the TV, on the radio, on the internet, on the magazines, on the newspaper.

King Viserys and Prince Daemon honor Museum of Ice and Fire with a visit in line with upcoming Cultural Arts Celebration

The Blonde Brothers reunite with a visit to Museum of Ice and Fire in honor of incoming Cultural Arts Celebration to be held next week.

Targaryens storm the Museum of Ice and Fire, leaving everyone swooning and saluting

Prince Daemon flirts with local museum curator during a visit to Museum of Ice and Fire

Upon reading seeing the photos attached to one of the many headlines tied to that day, Bobby drops his mug and misses the table, causing it to crash and break and spill all over the floor. He hisses as the hot coffee splashes on his leg and yet he pays no more than a second's thought on it as he leans into his computer and clicks the link on the screen.

He stares at the photograph of the prince with his arm over two women, one of which he knew for she was his ghost, his love, his heartbreak and heat.

He lets out a shaky breath then pushes himself off his desk chair. He grabs his phone and calls a contact, biting his fingernails as he did so.

"Hell-"

"Martell," he says, which is enough of a formality you could ever get out of him at this point, "I need you to pull out some old files and redo some research for me."

Alternatively, Aegon was hammering his head over and over again on his table as he wasted the little time he had on break by obsessing over the articles he saw on the internet.

He wasn't hungry anyway.

No, that was a lie. He was starving, but he already finished his snack after stuffing the fish and chips he had in his mouth far too quickly for anyone's good. He hadn't even realized he finished it, nor that he was eating, really, upon until he looked to his empty plate with shock washing over.

Now he had just made himself miserable and didn't feel any fuller than he was before eating.

He looks at the time and laughs bitterly to himself. This was supposed to be the time his saving grace came, but he knew no one was coming today.

He messages his brother again. Scrolling up from the first message he sent today down to the last.

DUDE WTF THE ROYAL FAMILY IS AT YOUR JOB? BRUH BRUH brush bruh AEMOND THE HELL IS HAPPENING oh is it the king wtf is the king doing there THE BLOND BITHCES ARE THERE aemond are you dead?????????? AEMOND WAHT THE FUCK Link attached WHAT THE FUCK YOU SITTING THERE NEXT TO HER Link attached Link attached Link attached AEMOND YOU IDIOT BITCH ASS CUNT RESPOND TO ME i hope youre miserable i hope you see them make out again can you ask her if shes coming ............ i know she wont but do it anyway fuck you bitch Image Attatched

"Quit flippin' on ya phone and get back to work boy," Aegon's boss calls as he enters the storage room, "breaks over."

Aegon stands and nods, "yeah, boss."

Aemond sorely ignored his phone as it blew up. It was bad enough that his head was plagued with the images of a doting couple sneaking glances and touches of each other, he did the right thing by putting his phone on silent.

He was currently on chapter 15 of the book he found entitled Blood Magic, Soul Ties, & Rebirth. In truth, it was nothing like he expected it to be. It was written more like a diary rather than a document like he had expected. It was all written in the perspective of the author, much like the tomes of the old history of Westeros, but, in his opinion, not at all academic in nature. Upon seeing there were parts that spilled into fantastical accounts Aemond understood why this book was still very much under review in the museum, and not somewhere in the national library. What exactly was it?

The chapters would start with personal ire:

Eman suffered rōvēgrī va se [account] hen [magic] se [ash]. Nyke ilimagho se [loss] hen mirre whom nyke jorrāelagon. Nyke [scorn] nykēla syt se [mercy] [exchanged] syt ñuha [soul], skore nyke ojūdan. Gaoman daor jaelagon naejot glaesagon, yn nyke glaesagon syt zirȳla.

I have suffered greatly on the [account] of [magic] and [ash]. I mourn the [loss] of all whom I love. I [scorn] myself for the [mercy] [exchanged] for my [soul], which I lost. I do not wish to live, but I live for him.

And then would go about to explain the process of a certain spell or incantation, all of which involve the spilling of blood, be it animal or human.

Se [spell] syt ease hen riña sikagon. Issa [recommended] bona gaomā bisy [month] iā [less] gō se sikagon hen aōha riña. Kesā jorrāelagon ānogar hen iā [elk], iā molry hen iā [elk], lanta [hooves] hen iā [elk], ānogar hen iā atroksia, ampa [feathers] hen iā atroksia. Istia perform se [following] [incantation] rȳ se zōbrie bantio.

The [spell] for ease of child birth. It is [recommended] that you do this one [month] or [less] before the birth of your child. You will need blood of an [elk], a horn of an [elk], two [hooves] of an [elk], blood of an owl, ten [feathers] of an owl. You must perform the [following] [incantation] at the dark of night.

Finally ending with ominous warnings that tread the line between a word of caution and a threat.

Sagon [warned] bona se [cost] hen ānogar [magic] ēza zȳha [weight] isse ānogar. Daor [amount] hen āeksion kessa [save] ao hen se [consequences] hen skore ao jaelagon naejot [reap]. Sagon [warned] bona ao daor undo līr iksis gaomagon Se ao daor [exact] līr kessa sagon se [payment] syt aōha actions.

Be [warned] that the [cost] of the blood [magic] has its [weight] in blood. No [amount] of gold will [save] you from the [consequences] of which you wish to [reap.] Be [warned] that you cannot undo that which is done and you cannot [exact] that which will be the [payment] for your actions.

Aemond narrows his brows and cocks his head at a particularly random hark.

Eman issare maghatan arlī naejot ābrar ondoso se dārilaros se oh skorkydoso nyke jaelagon [instead] naejot emagon rhēdan zirȳla rȳ se remȳti hen mēre hen [heavens] iā sesīr rȳ mēre hen [hells]. Oh valzȳrys [would] ao [loathe] nyke syt [reaping] nykēla hen qrimbrōstan irudy ao teptan nyke?

I have been brought back to life by the prince and oh how I wish [instead] to have met him at the gates of one of the [heavens] or even at one of the [hells]. Oh husband [would] you [loathe] me for [reaping] myself of the cursed gift you gave me?

He straightens in his seat when someone comes in and announces he's done for the day and that Aemond should probably get going too. He nods his head in regard and puts the largish book down, debating whether or not anyone would look for it if he took it home with him.

He checks the time on his phone, swiping away his million notifications from his brother, then raises a brow at the email notification he got from his cousin, Alicent.

All the while the king and queen were discussing Daemon over dinner.

Aemma grins, "so you've given him your blessing!"

"Lovie, it's like you've not heard a word I said," Viserys says as he licks the side of his knife, which was covered in sauce.

"Visy, I heard you loud and clear, and I'm glad that you've opened up your heart for this," she smiles as she cuts up her meat.

The king rolls his eyes, "I gave him an ultimatum."

"Exactly," the queen shakes her head and repeats her husband's words, "1 week, 1 month, 3 months, half a year until a years passed. If he still feels the same as he does now, then I shall be attending a wedding at Dragonstone by this time next year and my Rhaenyra can expect cousins most swiftly!"

He sighs and drops his cutlery, "my dear," he licks his lips, "I don't want you to get your hope up over something that could well not last."

Aemma eyes him darkly, "well you ought to not jinx it with you sourness."

"Aemma."

"Viserys," she places her own silverware down, "you told me yourself that you saw how his eyes lit up at the sight of her."

He rolls his jaw and leans back on his chair.

"You and your brother have may act like you're constantly at separate ends of pole, but I know that each time you snarl and snap at each other with fire at the back of your throat, neither of you care any less about the other."

Aemma presses her lips together as Viserys looks at her face. He sighs. He reaches out for her cheek, stroking her fair brows, memorizing the curve of her lips before leaning in to kiss her. He would be lost without his light, his Aemma. He wonders if, truly, that was how Daemon felt about this woman.

Well, Daemon let his actions speak louder than his words that night.

The moment we arrived to my home, after Daemon begrudgingly waited out my shift in one of the royal guard's car, I was immediately swarmed by him, him and his hands, his lips, his voice, his breath. Daemon caught me against him and refused to concede, to yield, or even to loosen he grip.

He barely even let me lock my front door on our way inside. I was glad I managed through his tender and eager, open mouthed attacks.

"Kesā daor henujagon nyke arlī, ābrazȳrys," Daemon mutters as he pulls me into him not even a second after letting me go to close the door. He shoves my hair off to the side and attacks my nape with kisses, leading me backward as he blindly navigated my home in the dark.

I hiss then chastise him with giggles when he runs into my lamp, "Daemon please."

"It's so fucking dark."

I pull away from him and take his hands that were clutching my torso, leading him off to my bedroom.

The moment I open the door, he charges at me with more kisses, this time, the light from the street lamps and the moon made it easier for him to navigate to the bed.

I release a sigh when he pushes me back on the mattress, chest pressed against mine, hands caressing and massaging every part of my body. He breathily repeats his words from earlier in between kisses, "kesā daor henujagon nyke arlī, ābrazȳrys," he begins to rip at my clothing, "iksā ñuhon," he heaves, "mirre ñuhon," he presses his forehead on mine, "ñuhon, ñuhon, ñuhon, ñuhon -"

You will not leave me again, wife. You are mine. All mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine.

I shift on my spot and sit up as I help Daemon undress me before he sequentially helps me undress himself.

I whimper as he pushes me back down and grabs my thighs. I squeak out a moan, catching his face in my hands, as he hovers over me.

I cry his name out when I feel him brush his hardened and pulsing length against me. He hisses as he looks down. His hands leave my thighs, one landing by my side, propping him up, the other coming to my wetness, stroking me there sweetly, "such a pretty girl, my love... so ready for me."

I whine as he amuses himself by fondling with my slick. He touches me as light as a ghost and teases my weeping entrance like a devious little boy, hellbent on making chaos of everything.

"Daemon."

"Shhhh," he leans in and licks my lips, "ivestragī nyke emagon ñuha kirimves." Let me have my fun.

I chase after his mouth but he pulls away too quickly, continuing to make a mess of me.

I bring my fingers to his nape, nails digging into his scalp, firmly tugging at his blonde locks. I plead, "Daemon."

He pacifies me with a kiss but does not cease his teasing ministrations. I moan when I feel his two digits barely sink into me. He laughs against our kiss and has to pull away from me all together, both hands sinking into the cushion by my sides, to calm himself down.

I huff in frustration and impatience at his deep chuckles. I decide to take matters into my own hands, literally, and shift beneath him, grabbing his thick member, easing him into me.

His amusement curdles into a moan at my touch. We both audibly react when he slowly sinks into me. He cusses where I call out his name. He breathes hotly against my neck as I wrap my arms around him and seal my legs around his waist.

He suddenly finds it in him to laugh again. He does so with much excitement.

And though I whimper at the feel of him jolting within me, I cannot help but feel a sense of contentment wave upon me. I rub my cheek against his head and scratch his scalp gently. We stay like this for a long while. I do not mind it, not really, I like him like this. But with every second that passed, it felt like my pulse was banging harder and harder.

I whine "ñuha jorrāelagon, kostilus dīnagon, nyke jorrāelagon ao sir" My love, please move, I need you right now.

Daemon chuckles and kisses my jaw, hands squeezing my thigh firmly as he slowly lifts his head up, "so impatient."

I rock my hips beneath him as I nod, "need you so bad."

Daemon obliges and begins to slowly thrust into me. He kisses my lips and makes a sound that is a laugh mixed with a moan, "I know, baby," he digs his nails into my flesh, "I know," he repeats more solemnly, "I need you too-- need you so badly."

My breath hitches when he picks up his pace. He quickens just a little bit, so subtly, and it grinds at my brain. Each time he moves, he exits wholly and enters fully, he stretches me out so nicely and fills me up so good.

I pant against his shoulder and sink my teeth into his muscle, licking and sucking at the area.

He moans at the feeling. He then shifts me in my spot, pushing me up, allowing himself more leverage from above me, making me cry out when he hits a part in me that touches seemingly every nerve of my body.

I screw my eyes shut and feel my eyes water at the sensation. I throw my head back and rip at his shoulder blades.

He huffs against me and continues in his pace, andante, taking his time to move from tip to hilt, savoring each moment, each stroke, each huff, each sigh, each whimper.

He continues like this. He is steady like this. He is beautiful like this.

My fingers and toes curl at the feel of him. My belly flutters. My breath strains. My mind fogs. All because of him, because of how I take in his scent, how I taste his skin, how I wrap around him.

"Dārilaros," I mutter against his ear, "ao ȳdra daor gīmigon skorkydoso olvie nyke bōsa naejot gaomagon ao hae bisa."

My prince, you don't know how much I long to keep you like this.

Daemon thrusts particularly deeply.

Tears pool at the corner of my eyes. Air catches in my throat. I choke on a sob as emotion floods through me. I am hit with this epiphany so very suddenly. I was, next moment, cathartic over the fact he was real, he was here, and he was mine. After all these years, after the dredging, after the lamenting, after the hurting, here he was, a sky above me, a sanctuary around me, a hearth inside me.

He loves on my face, peppering my skin with with kisses, "pār gaomagon nyke va ao," he presses his hands on my waist, knocking into me with forte, "umbagon lēda nyke," he moans against my lips, "sagon ñuha lenton,"

Then keep me on you, stay with me, be my home.

When my hands dart to his cheeks. Only then do I realize that he, too, was teary eyed as my thumbs find the dampness on his face. I open my eyes to look at him but shut close again when his mouth finds mine.

Daemon eases into his accelerando, gently and caringly thrusting faster and faster, staying deeper and deeper until he barely pulls out and he's just trapped into me.

He nips at my lip as I my hands dart to his hips, ripping at the skin there. He continues in his tight movements until he ultimately hooks his hands at the back of my knees and pushes my legs up, breaking into me vigorously until I couldn't think and I could only feel and scream out his name.

And as I climbed up to my high, I called out to him. And as he eased up into his, he called out to me.

And then it all comes crashing down. And then I can't breathe or move, I just tighten and whine and break against him.

And then I feel him follow suit. And then he looses his mind and his tempo, he just pounds and melts and falls into me.

And I feel my whole body burn, I feel my nerves rip into a symphony of pleasure. I feel his heat spill into me. I fill him fill me up until he's completely spent and even after that. I feel my body flinch around him. I feel him bottom out and run over in me. And I missed it. I missed this so much. I missed him so much. I missed him.

His erratic movements lull into slow tender one again, yet he doesn't cease his rocking until I'm shaking and wailing and dripping all over. I feel myself overflow with him, in both literal and metaphorical. I feel my whole body burn while he heaves atop me as he delicately touches down. He rests his entire weight on me; he's an invited and longed for blanket, a heaviness that I have dreamt of having pressed against me for so long.

I feel his heart hammering in his ribcage as mine beneath him did the same. His strangled breath echoes mine. My name spills out of his lips like a prayer. He nuzzles his face in the crook of my neck. His hands rub my legs that were wrapped around him. He was fastens them around his hips, as if my limbs were not tight enough, as if it was possible for him to move closer into me than he already was.

I cradle his head in my hands and adjust my face beside his.

"Avy jorrāelan," I speak softly against his ear, "eman jorrāelatan jeme ñuha ābrar se kessa jorrāelagon ao sesīr tolī."

I love you. I have loved you all my life and will love you even after.

Daemon responds with a kiss, with a rub of his nose, then with his words, "ñuha gevie lenton," he lifts his head up, sighing as he reached out to my cheek, "ñuha vok dārilaros."

Im that moment, I see a vague outline of his face even with through the darkness of my bedroom, but more than that, I hear the affection in his words. The sincerity locked in his voice, "syt ao ossēninna tolvie zaldrīzes, geron tolvie rizmun, iderēbagon tolvie rūklon, se jiōragon se olvie jelevre isse ñuha irosh sepār naejot sagon able naejot ūndegon aōha laehurlion."

My breath hitches, "Dae-"

"Avy jorrāelan."

My beautiful home, my perfect princess, for you I will kill every dragon, walk every desert, pick every flower, and offer the very breath in my throat just to be able to see your face. I love you.

I feel tears rush down my face when I lean up and kiss him.

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 2 years

Note

False God with Aemond 🙏🧎🏽‍♀️

Since getting wed, Aemond had converted into a new religion and was very devoted to his new god. Your bodies were rolling in the sheets, rarely ever leaving your sacred oasis. Although it wasn’t necessarily the goal, it was impossible he hadn’t put a babe into you.

He had made your hips his altar, reciting his most meaningful prayers as you gripped the sheets tightly.

Not many husbands lick their lady-wife's cunt. Most settle for penetration-only sex. Although nice, penetration itself doesn't guarantee an orgasm for the woman. Oral does. When frequenting brothels with his brother, Aemond had quickly learned that if you touch a woman right, you can make her cum many many times.

A cry left your lips as the prince wrapped his lips on your clit, sucking it and making your eyes roll all the way to the back of your head from the pure stimulation. The intense pleasure was making your brain foggy.

‘’Oh gods- That feels so good.’’

Although Aemond wasn’t the one receiving, he did get some pleasure out of it. He loved seeing you react, seeing you squirm and moan and whimper – and sometimes scream. It spurred him on, turned him on.

You grabbed one of your breasts and kneaded the flesh, feeling the slickness between your legs get wetter.

‘’Mmh, you’re so wet it’s dripping down my chin,’’ Aemond said, his mouth lifting from your clit for a short seconds then dragging a fingertip along your folds, making you gasp as he pushed a long, slender finger into you.

You heard the squelching of your wetness, the dirty sound causing a smug smile to split on the Targaryen prince’s lips. He was in awe that he could elicit this kind of reaction from you – and frankly, so were you. He always thought the women at the brothels were talking shit, that women couldn’t unfold like that and be this turned on just from dexterous fingers and a skilled mouth.

Aemond added a second finger once he felt your muscles relax, mewls spilling from your lips as his two fingers twisted into you, crooking upwards exactly the way you liked.

‘’Yes, yes,’’ you moaned over and over, feeling another orgasm crest.

You had lost track of the count between the seventh and tenth orgasm – and Aemond was showing no signs of being done with you. The women at court would be jealous of the things your husband did to you in bed, jealous of of the mind blowing sex you and him have been having – how much you were having.

So far, the wed life was fucking great.

Aemond looked up at you – your skin flushed from all your activities, lips parted and soft whimpers leaving them, the sapphire necklace he had gifted you resting atop of your perfect breasts. Aegon might be the heir to the throne, but he had wed the fairest lady in the whole Seven Kingdoms.

Taglist: @taylordaughter @gillybear17 @liltimmyst @eos-princess @Kaitieskidmore1 @instabull

House of the Dragon/Game of Thrones taglist: @anastasiaxsworld @lollypopcrazylover @fin-never @dkathl @ayamenimthiriel @nerdy4itall @rraindrops @glors3 @beelanie @hc-geralt-23 @sweetybuzz25 @uniquenightsheep @kaywsworld @i-yam-awesome @caspianobsessed @kelssssxd @dilfsarebetterthanyou @missyviolet123 @leakycauldrns @brezzybfan @khaleesihavilliard @vexedvalerie @lollaa-puff @my-dark-prince @chevelledahuman @caspianobsessed @ayamenimthiriel @yor72 @mirandastuckinthe80s @newtsniffles @cleverzonkwombatsludge @justaproudslytherpuff @ren-ni @green-lxght @anginoguera @bubblebuttwade @comicsol1999 @rockerchick05 @baelavelaryonwp @tnu-ree @beccawinter @alexisabirdie @persage @hayleighloatx @kindaslightlyacidic @perdynerd @elsyyie @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @xannybabyxx @katiepie67 @kjones375 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @queenofshinigamis @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @Wehi02 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @cayleecook38 @yoyopolloobamadaddy @hayleighloatx @vane1999-blog @smptxx @fairyfolkloresposts @yassi-world @todaywasafairytale07 @ESobilal @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @Katelyn15m @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @beggarsnotchoosey @vainillasmil157 @kizzyxren @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @Harryshousewhore @kodzuvk @tnu-ree @omgsuperstarg @futuregws @blackravena @ashlatano7567 @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @uh-no-actually @secretsthathauntus @lemiqa @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @Hc-geralt-23 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @mouldyfrog @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @drusillaravenclaw @softtina @Jelly-fishy-babie @evesolstice @Thelilacmourning

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine

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multi-fandom-imagine · 4 years

Text

The SOLDIER and The Baker || Cloud Strife || Pt3

Part 1 || Part 2.

A/n: Also vote...please vote / help me because I need your help to decided on what to do since its gonna be coming up soon. {{ vote here }}

Ps. this got to long so the kiss and date and everything else is gonna be in part four. {{ like I am sure this is past 4,000 words }}

A: 2 B: 0 C: 1

Tag List: @ayamenimthiriel || @kitsamii. || @courageouslystupid

Rude was stuck in a rather tough spot, the man did not know what to make of this. He thought he might be able to find any records of the young woman, it seemed to be as if they were completely wiped. Sighing he pinched the bridge of his nose, pulling of security footage of when he ran into you the man managed to get a picture of you.

He needed to know who you are, how did you know Aerith. Sighing he tilted his head to the side as he printed out a picture of you though tensed feeling crumbs hit his shoulder.

“She’s cute.” Even though it was muffled thanks to the food in the person's mouth Rude still knew who it was. “Who is she?”

“The girl I ran into.”

“The one who made these amazing muffin...haha really?....so did you get a name?” Reno asked peering at the picture of you from the candid photo, your hair was tied back in a loss ponytail and you were wearing a dress similar to Aerith’s. He thought you were rather pretty, he also thought that smile was cute but you must be someone important if Rude was looking into you.

“I did not.”

“So...you have nothing on her then?”

“You would be correct.”

“Well Shit.”

Rude sighed as he placed the picture down, maybe he should check into with Tseng to see if he could find something, or Rufus might know.

“Shit indeed.”

“So Cloud...”

“hmm??” Cloud glanced over at you, he watched as your fingers clutched the Mythril Rod in your fingers.

“I...what was it like being a SOLDIER?” You sighed glancing up at the sky, you never knew why seeing the stars gave you so much comfort. Perhaps it was something that you used to do with your father until he vanished.

“It’s a job...I did it to keep people safe, a lot of good that did.”

Turning to face him, you just smiled at him. “I think you’re doing a wonderful job of watching me and Aerith.”

“Huh?” Cloud frowned then shook his head, he should have expected you to say something like that.

“Aw, I thought for sure that would have given me a smile.” You teased rushing off to where Aerith was.

Stopping in his tracks Cloud frowned for a moment then shook his head. “Try harder.”

Your laughter was his only response but it took a few quick strides for him to catch up with you.

“You can see the sky” Glancing up, that was something he wasn’t used too being stuck in Sector 7 and seeing that plate.

Aerith frowned as she looked up at the dark sky with a frown on her face. “They’re still working on a new plate. I don’t like this part of Midgar.” As you three walked down the dirt path she kept speaking. “Back when they were still building Midgar, there was an accident, and the plate fell. People were still moving in, so there weren’t an of lot living there at the time, but....” She stopped as you three ventured deep down the path until you all spotted the Wall Market in the distance, the lights shining brightly in the night.

“And that’s?”

“The underside of Sector 6. “Wall Market.” A real special place.” Aerith then stepped in front of him tilting her head to the side. “But I’m sure you already knew that, right?”

Cloud frowned then turned his head away. “I didn’t tell you?”He then let out a sigh glancing away from you. “I enlisted pretty much right after I left home.” He then turned his attention to look at the stars. “Dunno much about this place, or any of the slums.”

Biting back a comment you then forced a smile on your face as your grasped his hand. “Don’t worry Cloud! that's what you have me and Aerith for!.”

“I.”

Aerith smiled nodding her head not letting him get a chance to speak.”Y/n is right ya know.” Though that didn’t stop her from telling him about the Wall Market, things you didn’t even know.

“Lucky for you I know a different way to Sector 7....One that tragically doesn’t go through Wall Market.” Giving you a wink you were positive that you only saw she gave you a small nod to his hand. Sighing she grasped one of Cloud’s hand as you grasped the other. “And it’s just through this tunnel here.” she pointed a long tunnel ahead of you.

“It’s best if you just listen to her Cloud, Aerith isn’t going to stop.” You state though the man let out a defeated sigh. Muttering under your breath you three continued to walk through the dark tunnel into you had to duck under a broken beam.

Emerging under you couldn’t help but let out a groan. “Wonderful.” Seeing the Collapsed expressway, you started to wonder if you would ever make it to Sector 7.

“It’s been like this...ever since the plate fell.” Aerith shrugged as she let go of the man's hands peering down below.

“And their’s no other way?”

“It will be an adventure.”

Sighing you rolled your eyes though then let go of his hand once you reached a ladder. You and Aerith slipped down waiting for the man, tugged out the blue flower he wanted to give to you the man was amazed it was still intact.

Biting bit tongue, he took a deep breath deciding now would be the best time to do it. Once he made it down the ladder he cleared out his throat then thrusts the flower in your face, not wanting to meet your gaze. “Here...for the cupcake...”

Hearing Aerith’s squeal you blinked, blushing as you took the flower. Smiling at him you could still feel the warmth on your cheeks. “Thank you Cloud, it’s beautiful.” Looking at the blue flower over you realized it must have been from the young woman's garden. You then tucked the stem in your hair so the blue petals were resting on your ear.

“So...what do you think.?” Doing a small pose you were taken back by what he said.

“Beautiful.”

Though the moment was ruined as Aerith then grasped your arm tugging you forward. “Ahhh! so cute!”

Cloud sighed as he then crossed his arms over his chest, now he wished he waited to give it to you so he wouldn’t have to deal with Aerith. Shoulders slumping he glanced around the small little area you were all stuck in trying to figure out a way to get the ladder up.

Wandering off from the two you did not know why you were being drawn to this particular area. Slowly making your way to a darkened corner, hearing a small cry you then knelt. “Hey it’s okay....you don’t have to be scared.”

Though you suddenly let out your cry falling back on your butt when a white creature jumped out at you. Sitting up you didn’t even notice that Cloud and Aerith rushed over to you. The man clutching his buster sword pointing it at the creature sitting on your chest. Aerith gave you a beaming grin kneeling forward pushing Cloud aside.

“Oh y/n! do you know what that is?”

Still recovering you slowly bring your hands up then run your fingers through the soft fur. “A Carbuncle.....they were in the storybook my mom used to read to me when I was little.” Smiling you continued to pet the creature, it leaning into your touch. “Well, it was nice meeting you little um Carbuncle.”

The Fennec fox-like animal tilting its head to the side once you placed it on the ground. Standing up you walked a few feet before the animal followed you then jumped on your shoulder, its teeth sinking into your Mythril Rod.

“I think it likes you Y/n!” Aerith was smiling.

“Can you trust it?” Cloud, however, was not, the man rather not risk anything happening to you. Shaking his head from those thoughts he did not know why he was thinking that. He kept his gaze on the creature, the Carbuncle had pale blue fur, its large ears twitching as the thing turned its gaze to him while its puffy tail wrapped around your neck gently. He could have sworn the damn thing gave him a smug look.

“Don’t be stupid Cloud! Of course, we can....besides it likes Y/n and you want her to be safe right....?” She started to rock on her heels then smiled tapping the Carbuncle’s nose. “Did you know that the horn is made out of ruby? but don’t let this little one fool you...they have potent healing powers.”

Well if that was true then he guessed that it was one more thing that could keep you two safe. “I...fine....though if it...I’m getting rid of it if it’s a pain in the ass.”

Letting out a laugh you scratched behind the creature's large ears. “Thank you, Cloud and it looks like you need a name.”Hmm how about Celestine...because you have that pretty little stone on your forehead.”

Celestine let out a small chirp, grinning you, Aerith, Cloud, and your new companion was off.

“Thank god we are out of that mess.” Panting you were leaning forward doing your best to catch your breath, you never thought you could have that hard. Who knew that so man monsters were trapped in a collapsed tunnel, god it was going to be shit getting back to yours and Aerith’s home.

Celestine hopping off your shoulders as you looked around the Evergreen Park of Sector 6.

“Wow....that must be the gate to Sector 7...you must be happy Cloud” Turning to face the blond you smiled at him though it was hard to read the expression on his face.

“I...looks shut how do we open it?”

Now standing beside you Aerith shrugged giving him her smile. “More importantly how about we take a break? Sound good.”

“No, I don’t have time-”

“Aerith now’s not really.”

Ignoring both of you, she continued to smile giving you a small push towards the dome house. With a sigh you climbed up the wall sitting on top of it, not expecting Cloud to be by your side.

“Wait! Aerith what are you?~”

With a laugh, Aerith waved both of you off. “Now is a good time for you two to get to know each other better!”

Dropping your shoulders you brought your knees to the chest to see her chase after the Carbuncle.

Glancing over at Cloud you gave him a weak smile. “She’s something?”

“Yea” Frowning Cloud opened his mouth though he didn’t know what to say to you, what could he say?

“You know...me and my dad used to do this all the time...look at the stars I mean.” Glancing up at the night sky you started to get lost in a memory. “He’d sit me in his lap and point out all the different stars.” Frowning you rested your head on your knees. “I miss him.”

“What happened to your parents?” Cloud wanted to know though he’d understand if you didn’t answer him.

“My father? I don’t know what happened to him...one day...he was just gone a-and for my mother? she died... let's see...um I was eleven.” You tried to blink away tears though as you were crying you felt a hand rest on your cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

Clearing out your throat you let out a laugh smiling at him. “It wasn’t all bad...Aerith’s mother took me in after my mother's death and when I grew older I moved back into my old home.” You didn’t want to worry about the man but you weren’t going to lie, it felt nice for him to touch your cheek.

Pulling his hand back, the man forced himself not to blush. Now he could see why you and Aerith were close. “I lost my mother too.”

“Oh! Cloud I’m.” Stopping yourself you sighed resting your head on his shoulder. “I’m sure she would be proud of you.” You didn’t mean to say it, the words just slipped out but they were true.

“Huh.”

You both turned to face each other, it wasn’t until now that you got a good look at his eyes. “Wow...your eyes.”

“Oh. It’s ‘Cause of the Mako. All SOLDIER’s have em.” He shifted his body, turning away from you. If his cheeks weren’t red before he was positive they were now.

“They’re beautiful.” Biting your lip you forced out a laugh standing up, dusting your dress off you noticed that the Carbuncle was curled up in Aerith’s arm. “Sorry I’m bumming you out...w..we should go.” Climbing down took a little time though you rolled your eyes once Cloud jumped down.

“Show off.”

Before Cloud could respond Aerith smiled as she slipped under the dome playhouse. Giving you both a grin she must have moved something before she slipped back out.

“This is how you get to sector 7 in style..go ahead.” Aerith did seem a little disappointed that her plan on leaving you two alone didn’t work.

Walking towards the entrance he sighed turned his attention to look at both of you. “Will you two be okay getting home alone?”

Shifting her body that statement seemed to make Aerith a little pleased. “And If I said we wouldn’t be?”

Looking over at you Cloud frowned taking a step forward. “Then I’ll go with you two.” Shaking his head he started to walk off.

“Cloud...I thought you had to get back.” You reached out to grab the man's wrist though you were quickly shushed by Aerith.

Rolling your eyes you stepped away from the woman you tried to hold you back. “I’m sure your friends miss you...so you ready to head back?”

“No.”

You weren’t expecting to hear that, though Aerith nearly squealed as she grasped your arm. “Oh see Y/n! he’s gonna miss us.”

Just as you were going to convince the man to leave all of your attention turned to the doors opening up to a Chocobo pulling a lavish cart.

“Tifa?”

You and Aerith watch Cloud rush off after the cart and it didn’t take long for you and Aerith to follow after him. The two were talking you tried your best not to listen in but that didn’t seem to both Aerith as she stopped the man in his tracks.

“Oh no you don’t....you’re going after her.”

“She’s right Cloud...I heard awful things about that man.” You weren’t going to mention that you heard them from your mother.

Listing to both of what you and Aerith had to say he then dropped his shoulders making his way to Wall Market. “Let's go.”

“Perfect!” You and Aerith smiled walking ahead of Cloud, the Carbuncle letting out a chirp.

“Couldn’t agree more.”

Stepping into Wall Market your eyes went wide, you never have seen anything like it before. Wincing you ignored the pain that started to form in the back of your skull, wandering away from Cloud and Aerith that started to the drive you instead started to pet the Chocobo.

“Aren’t you a cutie.” Smiling your fingers scratched the creature's cheek though you were startled by a voice.

“I’m surprised she even let out touch her....you must be somethin special.” Turning to the voice you spotted a tall man, a beard, and a cowboy hat. He was flipping a coin in his hand.

“Oh!...I’m sorry? I just really love animals and Chocobo’s...they’ve always been my favorite.” Giving him a small bow he let out a chuckle, it wasn’t until you finally noticed that Cloud and Aerith were watching you too.

Before Sam could get close to you, Cloud placed his body in front of yours though that didn’t stop for the man holding his hand out to you.

“You’re the splitin image of your mother.”

Eyes going wide you quickly stepped out from behinds Cloud back. “You knew my mother?!” “Darlin...your mother was one of the best workers I had.” Sam wrinkled his nose as he grasped your chin.“I’d say you got everything from that woman...minus that smile...I’m assuming you got that from your dad.” He didn’t sound too pleased when he mentioned your father.

“Though I seemed to have gotten distracted for the matter at hand.” He narrowed his eyes at Cloud. “I told ya what you need to know now take a walk and leave me out of it.” he seemed to have waved the man and Aerith off though it looked like he was debating on saying something to you with a shake of his head he stepped inside the building.

Confused you didn’t even notice Aerith say something until she placed her hand on your shoulder. “Right y/n?”

“Oh...right ha ha!.” Putting a smile you did your best to agree to them though soon you three were off to the man's mansion though your thoughts were still swimming from what Sam had told you. Your mother worked for, which would explain why she knew about Corneo. Frowning you did your push those thoughts down but you wanted to know more, perhaps you could sneak off to talk to Sam again.

Not paying attention you slammed into Clouds back but you must have been nothing since the man didn’t even move this time.

“You okay y/n?” Their’s Aerith concern for you again. Blinking you let out a laugh pushing your troubling thoughts away.

“Oh? I’m fine.”

Celestine, on the other hand, jumped back on your shoulders, letting out a growl once one of the men standing in front of the door stopped Cloud from entering. Though they must have said something since Aerith volunteered both of you.

“Aerith!”

“What! he said pretty boys couldn’t enter so we’re the only choice!” Narrowing your eyes you nearly punched the guy in his face when you heard him insulting your friend. “Aerith isn’t homely! have you looked in a mirror!” You snapped stepping out from Clouds back pointing at the man.

“Hey Leslie, this one is really cute....with a little make up she’d be a knockout.” “What?!” You could have sworn your voice went up an octave and you had to catch Celestine from leaping at the guy.

“How about I knock you out.” Cloud let out a small growl pushing you behind his back again.

Aerith narrowed his eyes as she stepped close to one of the lackeys. “Cloud? Permission to kill?”

“Denied.”

Before Aerith had a chance to respond the man Leslie did. “If you’re really sure you want to join an audition, then you’re gonna need an official approval.”

“How do we do that.?”

“The trio--the only ones in town who’re considered authorities on Corneos particular tastes.” Leslie sighed then shifted his body. “First, there’s Chocobo Sam....and then there’s Madam M over at the massage parlor. Last but not least, there’s the Honeybee Inn’s Andrea Rhodea.”

You stopped paying attention once Leslie mentioned Sam, maybe this was your chance to talk to the man alone. Shaking your head to turn to the voice that called out to you, looking up you spotted the concerned look on his face.

“Well, what are we waiting for.”

Smiling you then turned to Leslie giving him a thumbs up. “Don’t you worry..we’ll be back.”

With a nod, you then stepped out the door with Cloud and Aerith following you but Cloud was the one to stop you in your tracks once you were on the bridge.

“Are you two sure about this?”

“Of course Cloud! if y/n is in then I am too! no fear!”

Doing your best to steady your nerves you didn’t even notice how much your hands were shaking. While part of you wanted to help Clouds friend you just wanted to know about your mother. Biting your lip it took for you to dig your nails into your palm to run to the man once you spotted him still flipping that damn coin.

“Not you three again.” Sam frowned but gave a glance towards your direction. “Told ya once, I’ll tell you a thousand times- Got nothin’ for you. Now scram.” He then waved you off.

Digging your nails into your palm, you were getting sick of all this. “Hey! Hear us out!” You stepped forward, getting close to the man. “You’re one of the Trio, right? I want you to get...” No not you, you couldn’t pull that off. “I need to you get Aerith in for the Audition.”

“Y/n.” Aerith frowned stepping closer to you, she wished you had more confidence, she thought you were beautiful and just as strong at using magic.

“Why not?”

Now that was a surprise, you didn’t think the man would agree so quickly. “Sure, next time an audition comes around I’ll put your name in the hat.” and their it was.

“You can’t...this has to be the one.” You protested. “Please can’t you do something?”

Eyeing Aerith, Sam then shook his head as he turned his attention back to you. “No can do sweetheart..I already recommended Tifa in the running and she’s got this in the bag.”

“How do you know he’ll pick Tifa? he could pick me?”

“Damn you really want in don't ya?”

Giving him a smile Aerith nodded her head. “Sure do.”

Giving her a smirk he played with the coin in his hand. “Then how about we play for it.” Flipping the coin he then caught it in the air. “Call it, Missy. Heads or Tails? Guess right, and I’ll grant you your wish. Guess wrong and you’ll leave me in peace.”

“Heads.”

“Tails. You lose.”

‘You lost...that couldn’t be right...you came to far to lose.’That was the thought running through your mind.

“Hey, Don’t look so glum.You’re a pretty enough gal, just...not quite Corneo’s cup of tea.”Sam nodded towards Aerith. “But if only the Don will do, try convincing on of the other two...that’s why it’s a Trio and not just the me-oh. Now Skedaddle” He then started to walk off though it was Cloud that stopped him in his tracks.

“Wait...Mind if I see that coin of yours?”

Giving him a smirk Sam tossed him the coin as Cloud inspected it. “Trick coin...I had a hunch.”

Gasping, your eyes went wide as Aerith continued to flip it over. “You bastard!...you’re a cheat!. You must be mistaken! Because my mother would never work for a conman like you! My mother was kind! she helped anyone like you! You’re delusional and have to have me mistaken for somebody else!” You screamed at him as Cloud grasped your arm, the man could sense something powerful emerging from you.

Panting you were shocked when the man started to laugh, shaking his head Sam walked down the steps as he pointed to you. “I like you, I’m sure you got a great left hook like her too.” Grasping his chin he then titled his head to the side. “How about this...I’ll get you...only you into the audition...though you can’t go and speak to anyone else...and nobody can know about this...so...do we have a deal?” He held out his hand to you.

Biting your lip you then looked up at the man with determination in your eyes. “Deal..but you’re going to tell me about my mother.” Grabbing his hand, you glanced back at Cloud. His protest falling on deaf ears. “I’m sorry...I have to do this..I’ll see you two soon...We’ll meet at the bridge in two hours.”

Aerith sighed as she watched her friend retreat into the shop, turning to Cloud she placed her hand on his shoulder. The man’s gaze now watching the closed door.

“Come on Cloud...let’s go try the other two...I still gotta chance. Besides y/n can handle herself.”

“Hn.”

Once you stepped into Sam’s well you didn’t know what to call it, your eyes quickly fell to the photo on the wall. Feeling your eyes started to water you noticed your mother immediately.

She was smiling that the camera, a cowboy hat on her head. A pair of boots, skirt and a shirt tied off at her stomach. She looked so young, so happy, shaking your head you then turned to face the man who was now leaning up against a counter top.

“Now that I’m here...talk.”

The Carbuncle jumping off your shoulder as it watched Sam closely.

“Well darlin...this is along tail so you might wanna sit down.”

#Final Fantasy #final fantasy vii #Final Fantasy 7 #final fantasy 7 remake #final fantasy vii remake #final fantasy cloud #cloud strife #cloud strife x reader #final fantasy cloud strife #one shots #one shot #mini series #aerith gainsborough #aerith x tifa #kitsamii #ayamenimthiriel #courageouslystupid

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dino-fart · 1 year

Text

City of Hope

Summary | Chapter 1

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Female Reader

Genre: Action, Adventure, Romance, Tragedy

Summary: On Earth-928, you are running for the Mayor of New York City. Your goal is to create a safer city for everyone after losing your brother to a mugging years ago. You also want to strive for better healthcare for the citizens so you partner with Alchemax. Naturally running for mayor does create enemies even super powered ones. Luckily Spiderman comes to save you and you can’t help but be drawn to him...

#miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader

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missingartist · 4 years

Text

The Witcher’s Mate- Part 8

Three men gazed down apprehensively at the Witcher, who in turn stared unblinkingly up at the men. Out of the village, Tolstoi, Bradger and Miska had been nominated to plead with the Witcher. Tolstoi was the oldest, at plump age of 55, he still owned all his teeth and only owned a few white strands of hair. A blacksmith by trade, born with a hammer in his hand and will properly die with one in his hand. In spite of his age, his body still heads the thick muscles of his youth, maintained by hard, honest work. The second was Bradger, the town miller, the second eldest at the age of 51, he had come from the next village, when he married the town clerk’s daughter, Bethany. Despite being four years younger than Tolstoi, his hair was complete grey and receding rapidly at the temples, his frame over-ripened with the freshly baked cake and bread he prepared. Finally, there was Miska, the town treasurer, the youngest and the smartest. Thick wavy locks of gold-framed his face, golden skin finished off with deep green eyes. The robes he wore where immaculate, well made for a man of his position. The University of Oxenfurt educated, that was till the war and like so many idealistic men had gone off to fight, and somehow he had survived and ended up running out the last of his days in a small backwater town.

Miska cast his eye toward the glowering man. Even seated, he almost fell at there shoulder, the armour was reinforced, and old and two large swords lay to his left, fingers tentative stroking. His companions were interesting. A young man, looking no more then 20 sat scribbling of a wad of parchment, the youthful feature makes him an appealing sprite, dressing in a cavalier fashion, flamboyant and attractive. The women, on the other hand, was intriguing. Fresh-faced and innocent. Shapely brown eyebrow frame deep blue eyes, soft pink lips parted in a pleasing smile. Her clothes were shabby, dirty from the travel she no doubt had to endure. The clothes seller, Olso, had said she was the Witcher’s wife, a much-loved wife for if anything was taken from the Witcher buying her a king’s ransom in clothing.

In honestly, she wasn’t what he expected, he expected a heavy breasted whore, with the dress so tight she burst through it. Instead, he was met by a curly-haired beauty. Young and innocent-looking, with deep bags under her eyes.

Miska's eyes narrowed as they came back to focus on Geralt of Riva. ‘100 silver pieces, is that enough?’

‘Depend on what the problem is.’

‘Drowners’

‘How many?’

‘I could lie, tell you a lesser number…but 50 if not more.’

‘Hmmm, I admire your honesty, a characteristic seldom held by treasurers. I tend to find those who control money untrustworthy…200.’

‘120’

‘150’

‘…deal’ Geralt thrust a gloved hand out and one by one, each man shook his hand. ‘Take me to the pit. I need to see what I am up against.’

Miska nodded frantically, a soft hum vibrating up from his throat, and she thought. ‘Acceptable…Acceptable. I will have Tom set up accommodation for your…friend and Wife. He only has one good room but…’

The youthful man cut him off, looking up from his writing. ‘I won't need a place to stay, a… generous citizen has already offered me the use of her bed. So beauty is her soul that even stars are jealous.’ Jaskier gushed.

‘…right..Well, I will have Tom make up the room for you and your wife….I’ll have a hot bath prepared for her…’

‘Actually…’ Adva cut in.

‘My wife will be going straight to bed; she is exhausted after her travels.’ Geralt cut over. Standing. ‘I will meet you by my horse, and you can show me this infestation and don’t touch Roach.’

Miska nodded slowly look at the frowning women but obediently left the couple to their argument.

‘I am not your wife.’ Adva hissed.

‘It would be best if they thought we were. I don’t think that you want another incident. I’d hate to have to start gutting men.’ Geralt rumbled lowly as he stopped to her level.

The woman’s eyes darted to the main room of the tavern, seen through the archway of the snug. Barbaric, snarling men pushed and roared at each other while, beer and ale being sloshed around the sodden floor as young barmaid dodge past groping hand a shiver of disgust run down her spine. Adva’s eyes snapped back to the swirling ginger orbs in front of her, his brows were downturned in concern, and lips get in a firm line. As much as she wanted to slap his controlling face, the logical side could see the reasoning behind it. She had seen the very worst things that a man could do, most of the women turned to the whoring lifestyle because they had no male protection and either way they would be subjected to the savage nature of man, at least at the brothel they would get paid for it.

Adva nodded slightly, watched as the mirth re-joined his features and the dimple in his cheeks flashed a toothy grin. Geralt stood to his full height, towering over every man than with a good foot to spare. Adva had to look away to stop herself from ogling the way his leathers tighten around his body as she moved and the way he though the saddlebags of his shoulder without so much as a strained groan.

‘Stay vigilant. I will be back soon. There is a dagger in the bag.’

‘Don’t worry Geralt Ill look after her.’ Jaskier smiled glancing up at the white-haired man.

‘I was talking to Adva’

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Water cascaded over pale flesh as Adva pour another jug of steaming water over herself as she massaged the hair oil into her tangled hair. Once she was satisfied, she dunked her head under fully before resting herself against the warm brass of the tub. Jaskier had abandoned her for freckle ginger woman with the kind smile and come to bed eyes, leaving her to crawl into a warm bed. The bed was the softest Adva had ever slept in. A large double bed with feather pillows and thick down blankets, within a minute she had fallen asleep, much to the amazement when she awoke the next morning, she had thought she would be up worrying about the Witcher’s return. When she awoke the sun held itself high in the sky, most of the town had probably been up for hours, but Adva was determined not to feel guilty as she lounged in the warmth of the water.

Geralt has still not returned as a surge of fear bubbled inside her, but it meant she could indulge longer in the soothing silkiness of the water without interruption. It gave her a few moments of peace to mull over the raging thoughts in her head. Part of her was beginning to understand, Tradi had always been a horrible, abusive man but she had never thought him capable of such a malicious act. Then again she never thought Veronica would sell her and to a Witcher, who despite buying her like a common whore on the streets had been caring a diligent in his care, catching and roasting her rabbits to eat on the road and buying her more clothes that she had owned in her entire life.

The feeling that surged within her collided with such ferocity it made her dizzy it forced her to sink into the depths of it till the only part of her body visible was the surface of her face. She could just leave, Geralt wasn’t holding her prisoner, but if she did leave he could find her, no matter how well she tried to hide her track, he could sniff out the faintest of traces. If what he had said about Tradi was right, she would be a danger to everyone around her. Tradi has always been after power, but the length he went for her book was unthinkable. The book was the last thread of who she was, the elegant handwriting in an unknown language that only she could decipher. It wasn’t even as if she or that book where that important, just nonsense scribbles Lord Brightwater hadn’t sent her off to be a mage and Cersi was perfectly happy just to let her hang around, learning from like a child on his mother skirt. Her little bit of magic was nothing compare people like Cersi. An ominous fear ran through her, what if Geralt had taken her with him to one day run his sword through her.

Adva’s eyes snapped open as the bathtub began to vibrate across the floor, spheres of shimmering water began to swirl above her. Outside the perfect mid-day sky darken, the wind picked up and bellowed against the wall. The dying flames fought viciously with unknown sources of force as it ricocheted across the room. A shrill gasp escaped her mouth. The orbs of water came crashing down with an almighty splash.

Wiping the water out of her eyes, Adva looked around, the room was completely normal, apart from a few puddles of water, the only evidence of what had just happened. Leaning back against the tub, a deep dread overcome her, what was happening to her?

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Adva wallowed in the water till all warmth had disappeared and she forced herself to leave the safety of the water and wrapping her body in a fluffy towel sitting down at the makeshift table as the door quietly knocked and Jaskier’s companion for the night, the auburn-haired beauty popped her head around the door.

‘Oh, my lady Rivia your up.’ The girl bobbed lightly in a makeshift bow as she fully entered the room.

The brunette smiled lightly as she looked at the girl. ‘It Adva, I’m no lady…and you don’t have to bob to me; I’m not some noble.’

The girl hesitated in the doorway as she observed her with curiosity; both women looked at each other for several long moments before Adva cut the awkward silence.

‘Can I help you with something?’

‘Jaskier sent me up to see if you were alright… he thought you might be homesick or struggling to dress. He is such a caring person with a beautiful soul.’ The women gushed as she attractive flush caressed her cheeks as she swept into the room fully, obviously high on whatever budded between her and the bard last night.

Griselda keen eyes searched the women in front of her; the women looked much better than the night before. Pale skin freshly scrubbed, revealing a healthy glow and soft ringlet had begun to form. Her figure was now revealed from underneath the frumpy clothing she had arrived in, she was short and curvy, broad hips and small waist. The bust was full but pert. It was clear to see why the Witcher would marry her; she was stunning, otherworldly the way her skin glowed. The women seemed sweet, kind but shy, not a type that a man like a Witcher would normally go for.

‘Right let's get you ready…your husband has been mooching around since the earlier hours of the morning’ Griselda cooed picking up the brush as beginning to comb through Adva’s mane.

‘Geralt’s back? Why didn’t he come to bed?’ Adva frowned as the woman began to play with her hair.

‘He mumbled about not wanting to wake you up. That so romantic. My departed husband Merriweather wasn’t so gallant, day after our wedding he went hunting, came back clashing around in the wee small hours of the morning three days later, threw up and passed out snoring on the bed. Such a pig of a man, god rested his soul. I was lucky married off at 16 was too soon. I got left with a little house and my hymen broken in, left me to ponder the pleasure of the flesh.’ Griselda whispered the last part with a wink, running her hand over her shaking the freshly brushed locks in soft curls.

‘Speaking of the pleasure of the flesh…what is it like to bed a Witcher? I have heard they go through mutations…does it affect their cock? Like is it longer or thicker? ’

‘I…I…wouldn't know.’ Adva spluttered, her face glowed a bright red.

‘You’re his wife! Are you tell me you married the man without trying the goods? You have to try them after..?’ Griselda gasped in shock.

‘Ehh.. well… we only just got married, and Geralt is a romantic… he wanted to wait till we were in a comfortable place…till it was right.’

‘Ohhhh you poor thing… this is your honeymoon and Miska and the other idiots spoilt it by offering him a contract.’ Griselda pushed out her bottom lip as she rested her hand on her shoulder in comfort. ‘But don’t worry me and the other women have our ways…we will have you in that wedded bed before you know it’ Griselda winked a mischievous green eye at her. ‘Till then though we will have to use your feminine asset till sending him int a frenzied heat, he doesn’t look like the kind of man who likes to be teased.’

Adva could barely comprehend the slip of a woman who looked barely older than 19 suddenly became this wanton advisor as she picked through the brother Geralt brought her and through the various garment at her.

The person in front of her in the mirror wasn’t one that Adva recognised. Griselda had dressed her in a deep red blouse and rich brown trousers that cling to her every curve from her plump thick thighs to toned calves. The carved leather under corset gripped her waist empathising her figure in the most alluring way all finished off with leather boots with a small hill giver her figure a bit of lift.

‘When I first saw you I thought you were pushing above your weight will a hunk like that but now I see it the other way around. Honey, you are going to drive him mad.’ Griselda purred with a devilishly smile.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was safe to say Adva had never felt uncomfortable in her life, and she descended the stair and headed towards the snug. Geralt was a hard man not to miss; he sat in the same place as last night, his hair pulled back tightly and look slightly dishevelled, as he growled at the te man from last night.

‘…your lucky the drowner only gashed him…keep your men out of my way and let me do the job you paid for.’ Geralt growled, slamming his drink onto the table, sloshing the amber contents onto the wooden table.

‘Sir… I think that it is best we do this methodically. Slow and steady, take them out one by one. If we don’t….’ Miska's voice trailed off as he noticed the two women appear behind the Witcher.

Geralt could smell Adva before he could see her. The smell of her lingered in the snig of the tavern even with her tuck safely upstairs asleep. As soon as she opened the door, the Witcher’s senses were over some with her scent, it intoxicated him with its heady fragrances. Geralt kept his eyes on the man in front of him in annoyance, only glancing up when he heard her stand next to the table. Glancing up her had to do a double-take. Freshly bathed, she glowed, literally glowed, bright blue eyes sparkled as she stared down at him, her plump bottom lip caught between her teeth as he looked innocently down at him. Golden eyes wandered down her body as he took her in, a thick, shapely body greet him wrapped tightly in a burgundy blouse the crosshatched under corset laced tightly around her waist highlight her shape and giving the breasts an indecent outline as the blouse wast pulled tight against them. Geralt's eyes ogled her legs as skin-tight trousers covered them, giving him a perfect view of her body.

Miska scrapping the legs of the chair on the stone floor pulled Geralt from his appreciations as the treasurer pulled out a chair for her with roaming eyes. Geralt stared darkly at the man as he curled a muscular arm around her pulled her down to the bench beside him, glaring at the man.

‘Adva! If beauty be in the stars, you shall outshine all of the heavens’ Jaskier sung as he sat perched at the end of the table with his quill.

‘Is he drunk?’ Adva asked, concerned.

‘No, just an idiot.’ Geralt rumbled lowly, cause the woman in his arms to giggle loadly.

‘Adva perhaps you can talk some sense into your stubborn husband. He wants to march sword in hand into the den of the drowners, sword in hand without any backup…’

‘I told you already; your men are a liability. They don’t know their arse from their elbow.’ Geralt growled.

‘There are too many of them. They cant be poisoned or attacked; they heal right up.’

‘That is why my silver sword is the best options. I can set fire spells that the beasts are vulnerable to…all I need is for you to keep your men the fuck away from me. They showed their competence yesterday.’

Adva became all two are of the tension in the room between the two men, feeling the way Geralt arms tensed around her waist. Griselda moved round the stand next to Jaskier filling his cup, who in returned kissed her hand sweetly.

‘It is out of the question. If you die in this foolhardy attempt, we will be stuck with these creatures.’ Miska calmly stated, straightening out his robes.

‘Your concern is endearing, but I am a Witcher. I know how to kill drowners. You want me to kill off two or free a day, that would take months, all the while they grow in numbers as they drag more and more people to their graves.’

‘Miska, you are a treasurer, not a witcher let him do what he does. He’s impatient to get his honeymoon started. He was kind enough to cut into his nuptial celebrations to help us. Let him do what he does best.’ Griselda pleaded.

‘Honeymoon?’ Miska frowned looking at the couple.

‘Yes, they have just got married. Leave them alone.’

‘I am sorry…’ A million thoughts passed through his head as he pondered upon this new information. ‘Maybe it would be best for you to do it you way. Good day then.’ Miska stood, kissing Adva on the hand as he left without another word.

Geralt’s chest vibrated against her side as he watched the man's form disappear.

‘Ahhh jealous love. I’ll leave you three alone; I need to help in the kitchen….I’ll see you later’ Griselda purred, kissing Jaskier chastely on the lips.

‘Newlyweds?’ Geralt smirked as Adva pulled away from his grip.

‘I panicked. She started to question me about…the thing?’ a deep blush filled her cheeks.

Geralt’s arms burned with needed to pull her back to him but instead shifted closer to Jaskier to look at her fully. Her scent was so pure now it was obscene, that alone caused him to strain against his breeches.

‘Questions? What questions?’ Geralt teased, with a devilish smirk.

‘Just questions…. Can we drop it please, I'm traumatised enough.’

A few moments of silence passed between them, the only sound Jaskiers quill scratching on the paper could be heard above the low rumbles of the tavern. Geralt eager eyes taking in every each of his fake new wifes, her heavy breathes causing her breast to strain against the material hypnotising him.

‘Why don’t we set a silver charge in the cave, it would kill most of them and then you could finish the rest off.’ A small voice cut through the silence

The witchers eyes travelled up to rest on her face, ‘the silver fumes would weaken them, and the fire would kill most of them. It means you would have to take them all on at once.’

‘Hmmm, interesting…and how would we make them? Have you made them before.’

‘Well I don’t but on principle…with your help… we could….’ Adva voice died in her throat as she cast her eyes down.

A sturdy finger lifted her chin, forcing her to look into the bronzed face of the Witcher.

‘It is a good idea. We will make the charges tonight. I will then place them in the caves. While you and Jaskier stay in the tavern, understand?

Adva nodded happily and took up a swig of her drink, beaming at the two men for the first time since Brightwater. Geralt removed his hands and look above her head to the treasurer lurking across the tavern eyes trained on the couple.

Let me know what you think?

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #witcher geralt #geralt x reader #geralt smut #Geralt #geralt imagine #geralt reader #witcher netflix #witcher 3 #thewitcher #introvertedmouse #luxyash #ayamenimthiriel

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