#fics by me
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Blossoming Over You
Aemond Targaryen x Reader
pronouns: She/her (afab)
rating: Explicit/18+
warnings: NSFW/Minors DNI, 69 position, smut
word count: 4500+
summary: Aemond and his new bride, Lady Y/N Baratheon, steal a moment together alone at their Wedding dinner.
author’s note: The people have spoken! After my poll to celebrate gaining 69 followers (which is now a lovely 100 followers!) there you have it, an Aemond x Reader 69 smut fic. You’re welcome. As always, likes, reblogs, and comments are not a requirement, but always love to come home to. Thanks again to @bottlesandbarricades and @ewanmitchellcrumbs for your lovely encouragement and commentary in my google doc!
Masterlist
The Great Hall was shrouded in the shades of your family's colours, with deep reds and blacks against the golden yellows of the House Baratheon. Not a plate was empty, nor a glass unfilled as the great households of Westeros came together to celebrate the wedding of Prince Aemond Targaryen and his Lady Y/N.
The betrothal had been a long one, starting at the very beginning of the Dance of Dragons on that fateful night at Storm’s End, and after a year of near unending grief and loss, your love was the salve to heal the deep wounds left behind. The Greens had triumphed over your betrothed’s half-sister only 6 months prior, and now was the time to march onward into a time of peace.
The Queen Mother, Alicent Hightower, watched on from afar, taking in the merry celebrations. All of her children were prospering, thank The Seven, and hopefully soon the realm once more. Prince Aemond and his bride had been missing from the party for quite some time, slipping out just after the speeches had ended and their guests had flocked to the dance floor. In amongst the beautiful patterns created by dancers in dresses of the finest silks, she’d watched as he’d lovingly sought her hand and pulled her away to his chambers.
Later that night, out of the corner of her eye, Alicent sees them return hurriedly through a servant's side door. Y/N was hastily straightening her dress and the priceless jewels hung around her neck, her youngest son rose-pink in the face, his usually perfectly tied hair uncharacteristically mussed and knotted. His mother could hardly contain the hearty chuckle that escapes her mouth as she notes the way he scans the room nervously to see if anyone had noticed their absence… Like it hadn’t been the talk of the Red Keep that the young Prince had hardly been able to keep his hands off his little bride since the end of the war. They were head over heels, and after all of the tragedy that had befallen them, no one could find it in their hearts to judge them for it. It was a match made by the Seven indeed.
It was clear in the way that Aemond would gaze at her when they would dine together, the tender way he would cradle and protect her on dragonback, and the way that no matter how beaten and bloodied he had been during the war, he had never so much as raised his voice at her.
Aemond had always been a gentle soul as a child and this shone brightly whenever he was around his betrothed. Whilst her son had never said the words outright to her, not in plain, it was clear to all that there was a deep love between them. A love that would no doubt last the rest of their days. They’d proven it to the Realm already, before wedding bands and great feasts had even been necessary.
Alicent feels a soft nudge on her arm as Helaena leans over to pass her a goblet of wine, raising her eyebrow playfully to gesture at the couple. Her heart swelled as she watched his new wife reach over to brush back the unruly loose strands of his hair from his face, adjusting the strap of his now rather wonky eyepatch with a care that spoke a thousand words.
He never let anyone touch him, especially not his face. But with her, it was different.
An affectionate smile grazes Aemond’s face when Y/N’s hand lingers upon him to stroke at his scarred cheek, his ringed fingers coming up to enclose themselves around her own, bringing her palm to his lips for a sweet kiss.
The Queen laid her hand softly on the top of her Daughters, leaning back into her chair and sighing as the heavy cares of the last year washed away. She knew that when all was said and done, after all of the blood, the horrors and regrets, brighter times were here for her son, and she knew in her heart that they would be here to stay.
By the Gods, would the speeches drag on much longer!?
The week before their wedding had been the longest week in all of recorded time. She was sure of it. There had scarcely been any time to see her betrothed alone, what with all of the wedding planning and the countless rehearsal dinners at the insistence of the King. Aegon had proclaimed that he’d wanted everything to be perfect for his little brother, though Aemond had known better that it was because he’d used your wedding as a convenient excuse for a week filled with feasting and drunken festivities.
You’re sitting politely, half-way through listening to Ser Tyland Lannister’s slurred speech, telling tall tales of his supposed ‘great friendship’ and comradery with the Prince, when you feel a soft warmth spreading upon your thigh. Aemond’s hand had slipped under the table to squeeze at the soft flesh of your inner thigh, stroking small circles and with his thumb.
“I don’t know what’s worse, this speech, or those ice sculptures.” Aemond whispers, his lips tickling the shell of your ear through your hair.
You try not to snort laughing as you take in the look of pure contempt on your husband's face as his gaze falls upon the already dripping ice carvings of Vhagar and the Baratheon Stag, towering above the crowd at the centre of the Great Hall.
To Alicent’s and the Iron Bank’s dismay, Aegon had been adamant that the wedding would be one the greatest celebrations the Realm had ever seen, not only to honour the bravery of his dear brother during the war, but as a show of power over the scattered remains of the Blacks. And ice sculptures in the height of summer in King's Landing to him had seemed positively lavish.
“My darling, are you surprised? Lest you forget, there is a statue of you in the Dragonpit as tall as Brandon’s Wall.” You murmur to him, tongue-in-cheek and drinking your wine to hide your coquettish grin.
“It is simply his way of showing you that he loves you. Aegon is ever so proud.”
Aemond coughs slightly to mask his mirth, squeezing your thigh once more before purring into your ear.
“I, on the other hand, have several ways that I plan to show you my affection tonight... ” His thumb creeps inward, rising further towards your centre through the layers of your wedding dress.
“That is, if Tyland Lannister ever stops to draw breath.”
Your heart races, as you try as hard as you can to focus on the great tapestry at the end of the room opposite you, another exuberant commission of Aegon’s, detailing your husband’s victory over his Uncle at the God’s Eye earlier that year. You bite at your plush bottom lip as Aemond’s hand moves to cup at your sex, a dark chuckle leaving his throat as the hand gripping your goblet wobbles, almost spilling your wine down your front.
“Sweetling, please, it’s rude not to listen.” He drawls, his nose nuzzling at your temple, breathing you in.
When your new Mother-in-law looks over to you with a small furrow in her brow, mouthing to see if you are okay, you shoot a tight smile her way, and a swift kick to her son’s foot under the table. This only serves to make him chuckle even more, his large hand sliding down to squeeze at your knee lovingly, before returning back to the table to take your hand in his.
“... there has not been a finer warrior in all of the Seven Kingdoms, since Aegon the Conqueror himself. To Prince Aemond, and his bride, Lady Y/N Baratheon. May you live long and happy lives, free from war, and with love in abundance!” Slurred Tyland, raising his tankard of ale into the air.
The room exploded into cheers and hear, hears, the band starting to play once more. The sound of rich strings and flutes fill the air as your guests flood onto the dance floor. Aemond’s chair scoots closer to yours, his thigh pressed hotly against yours. He hastily grabs a plate and starts collecting an assortment of your favourite nibbles and treats for you, before placing it down and leaning over to whisper into your ear.
“You will need a full stomach. Take what you like now and we can take the rest with us.”
You look up in quiet surprise, gently biting into a small lemon cake he’d had made for you specially.
“Aemond- but it’s not the bedding ceremony for another three hours. There are speeches to be made, dances to be had-”
Aemond stares Y/N down with an unmistakable gleam of lust in his eye and a playful smirk on his lips. “I’m not talking about that. That will not take place for hours yet… But did you really think I could wait that long before I tasted you again my love?”
He surveys the room, watching the great houses of the realm eating, drinking and dancing, before he stands up suddenly, lacing his hand with yours and pulling you up to his side.
“I’d love to stay and chat with our guests, but I find myself completely enraptured by you… Y/N, come.” Aemond murmurs into your hair.
He walks you forward towards the servants entrance door with a serious look on his face as you slip behind an old tapestry on the wall and into the depths of the castle. You’d used this passage countless times before, the last time when you’d had to make a quick escape after Aemond had brought you to completion upon the steps of the Iron Throne. Aemond knew a lot about the architecture of the old castle, and by the God’s had he made good use of it during your betrothal.
Within a few moments you’re there in his bed chambers, slamming the door behind you and locking the latch, something that had quickly become second nature after Aegon had walked in on you both one too many times before.
Finally. This was the first moment you’d been alone all week, free from prying eyes watching or judging. No more interruptions.
He places the small plate of food on his bedside table, and strides towards you, grabbing your face and devouring your mouth with his lips and tongue. His large hand splays itself on your small waist. A deep sigh escapes your lips as he hikes up the many layers of your wedding dress, cupping at your ass desperately through your smallclothes.
“Aem- Aemond, take care, my dress… we can’t get too carried away-”
“I don’t give a shit about your dress.” He says panting between kisses, backing you up towards the chaise lounge beside the fireplace. “I can’t help myself. I need you. I want you.”
Aemond grabs you by your hips, lifting you to lay you down upon soft pillows with an indisputable urgency, pressing his weight upon you and attacking your neck with fervent kisses and small bites.
“Ah! There’s no time… Please don’t start something you don’t intend to finish, my love.”
With a growl he pushes up your skirts to your waist and hooks his finger into the soaked crotch of your smallclothes, pulling them down to your ankles. “Oh we will finish… just not in the way you might expect.” Aemond says, with an impish smirk and a rather devilish gleam in his eyes.
“I had something else in mind. Something we have never tried before.”
You lean onto your forearms to meet his harsh kisses, a look of intrigue forming on your face. You and Aemond had certainly tried a lot of things. After countless nights ‘researching’ in the library, he had been able to convince you that there was a lot of enjoyment to be had in each other that did not involve the loss of your virtue. It was really the least The Seven could do to turn a blind eye to their pursuit of happiness.
You blush intensely at the perverse grin decorating his cat-like lips as he gently pushes your shoulders back again, biting at your collarbones beneath the collar of your dress, and sucking small love bites along its edge. You struggle to get your words out at his ministrations, your hands clasping at his strong shoulders, still covered in the soft black velvet of his doublet.
“S- something in mind, my love?”
“I can see that your curiosity is getting the better of you, little Doe. I can assure you, you are not the only one who thinks the waiting has been going on just a little too long.”
His voice is husky, dripping in heat and passion. Aemond moves to kneel partially between your thighs, his lilac eye raking over your body.
“I have a thought. A thought I have had in my mind in your presence for some time now. Aegon told me, against my will of course,” he chuckles before continuing, “of a time he and one of his lovers had pleasured each other with their mouths… mutually, and simultaneously.”
You’d taken him in your mouth almost countless times, as he in turn had devoured you. Aemond was insatiable, especially after a battle. The thought of such heady pleasure taking place at the same moment made your centre throb with desire.
Aemond starts to crawl over your body fixing you with a smouldering look. “If we are quick and efficient, as I know we can be, I believe we can subdue ourselves for the next few hours… lest your husband be driven to madness, resorting to cupping his pretty little bride's cunny under the dinner table once again.”
He unlaces the ties of his tight black trousers with deft fingers. “I promise you, I can be very swift if the reward is sweet.”
Wordlessly you push down your bodice as far as you can to release your heaving chest, causing him to growl in contentment.
“My Dragon, the speeches… they commence in a half hour, and my handmaid's have left for the evening. If you mess up my hair-”
A feral laugh leaves his lips as he shifts around and lays on his side, his face level with your middle, swiftly hooking your leg over his shoulder, pressing hot sloppy kisses up the soft skin.
“Fuck your hair! … Though, that is a very convenient piece of information, my Lady. Even more privacy tonight… and even more opportunity.” With a soft kiss to your smouldering core he murmurs against your bare stomach. “I promise to be gentle with you, my love.”
He shifts his hand down to release his length from its confines, his hard cock springing free and flushed against your face. Aemond’s brushing kisses on your thigh creep closer and closer towards your heat.
“And… you wish for me to taste you, Husband?”
Aemond nods his head in a slow deliberate movement whilst stroking himself, his long hair tickling your stomach. “That is what I wish for, and I think you will come to like it.” He whispers, his breaths growing shorter, and his length swelling harder still.
Shyly you reach to take him into your hand, your dainty fingers not even coming close to meeting. Aemond was heavy and silky to the touch, and oh so hot. He was already leaking, your absence in the week leaving him hungry and craving the warmth of your mouth.
With a swift lick to your folds, he ducks his head between your legs and groans against your cunny in a way that has you shaking. “... If you would be so kind, little Doe…”
All you can do is whine softly, as you feast your eyes on the spectacle of a Targaryen prince, your Prince, nestled between your legs and devouring you like a man-starved. Unable to hold back anymore, you press your face forwards, your tongue brushing little kitten licks over the head of his cock. Aemond can scarcely contain the rumbling moan in his chest when your hand comes to join your tongue, eagerly sliding the gathering combination of spit and precum down his shaft.
“Ah- my sweet little one… a little slower if you please. Lest the moment be over too quickly.”
Aemond drawls out breathlessly, his eye squeezing shut in the sheer bliss of your wet warmth, all the while he starts to suck teasingly on your nub. Rough hands slide up to cup and caress the sensitive skin of your thighs, your flushed skin framing his handsome face.
Your face presses forwards, his hips rocking up purposely to slide home into your mouth until your nose is brushing against the soft blonde hairs at his toned navel. Hollowing your cheeks, your needy groans have him twitching inside of you, before he starts to thrust into your willing mouth. His movements are slow and purposeful, dragging his head against your tongue and against the back of your throat with a need impossible to ignore.
“Yes- Yes that’s it. Oh that’s divine. You are divine. Like the very Maiden herself.”
You have to remind yourself to breathe through your nose when he props up your leg with his hand under your knee, plunging two of his long fingers into your tight hole. Aemond crooks his lithe fingers upwards to tease relentlessly at that sensitive patch inside of you that try as you might you could never reach yourself. What you can’t fit in your mouth you grasp at tightly in your small hands, wrapped around the thick base of him now slick with your spit.
When he pulls out to tease your lips with the tip of his manhood, a pathetic high-pitched whine escapes your throat, a pink blush dusting your cheeks and breasts.
“Aem- Aemond… Are you sure The Seven will not condemn us for such- ah- impropriety? Such sin?”
You swear you can feel his sly grin against your cunt and the vibrations of his tremulous dark chuckling against your clit, shooting waves of white heat to the base of your spine.
“The Seven can judge me all they want.” He rasps gazing down at your slick dripping down onto your thigh, a thin line of saliva connecting his shining lips to your slick cunny. “Though I believe, just like you and I, they would find this very enjoyable.”
The thought of The Seven watching you in such a compromising position, the thought of such divine beings coveting the primal pleasure only he could bring you was almost too much to bear, only serving to add more fuel to the building fire inside of you.
You continue to work his length with your hand, curling your wrist to stroke the head of his cock with your palm before sliding straight down to the base. You duck down to suck at the sensitive skin of his stones, which seemed to only tighten at the very sensation of your plush lips and the warm breaths blowing out as you speak.
“That is blasphemy my Prince… but such blasphemous ecstasy is it not?”
You let out a gasping moan as he adds yet another finger into your swollen heat, licking up your folds and slurping at your sweet release.
“I might- oh- I might be willing to suffer the consequences of such sacrilege… if it means even the slightest possibility of tasting such sweet nectar once again.” Aemond pants out, gripping your thighs in a vice-like grip and pressing forward to lap up the slick gathered at your puckered hole, before diving down to slide his tongue into your cunt.
The sounds of wetness and lewd sucking and slurping fill the room in a manner so intoxicating that you can feel your release approaching swiftly. You take him deep into your throat now, feeling his hips tense under your fingers as he starts to frantically thrust himself into your face over and over, his stones slapping at your jaw.
Aemond gravels out his words through gritted teeth, his long fingers plunging into your sex hard and fast now, as his control starts to waver. Every word he utters is accompanied by a needy gasp at the end as a small tremor begins to make its way through his body.
“Fucking Seven… can do whatever they want to me… just so long as I can have you. And fuck you…. And love you.”
All at once it hits you, the week without his touch, the year you’d had been torn apart by war… the love he’d never really spoken of until this very moment. Your head lolls back against the cushions and suddenly you’re and moaning in ecstasy around his cock as he continues to fuck your throat. You clench tightly around his fingers, shaking and trembling as you reach your peak, completely overstimulated as he laps at your centre with an unrelenting passion.
Soft guttural groans fall from his curved lips, trying so hard to bring you to release once more. His hips stutter, his movements flustered… and he’s spilling into you. The feeling of you swallowing every drop washes over him like the waves crashing onto Blackwater Bay, and he cannot help but moan your name loudly and shudder, hands desperately stroking the at soft curve of your ass. He loses himself in you completely. Every dream he’d ever had, all his aspirations, meant nothing in the wake of you. He could be King of Westeros for all he cared. You were everything.
You release him with a soft pop of your mouth, panting as you let yourself breath for the first time in what felt like an age. The two of you lay spent, catching your breath. Ever so gently, you lean forward to press a tender kiss to the slender dip of his hip bone, nuzzling your nose against his naval.
“... Have I stolen your voice, love?” You whisper.
Aemond takes a few deep breaths, gathering himself and wiping his glistening mouth with the back of his hand raggedly. A lazy smile grazes his gorgeous flushed features. For a man so pale, you loved more than anything how only you could make him so pink and rosy.
“... I do believe The Seven had stolen it. To punish me for experiencing something so glorious and so holy, that no words ought ever to be able to describe it.”
Shakily he sits up and tucks himself back into his breeches, before pulling your back against his chest. You remember yourself and the party outside, and hastily pull up your bodice, fixing your hair until strong arms encircle you from behind, and gentle hands still you. Aemond presses languid kisses to your neck, his nose brushing into your unruly locks.
“... Just a few more moments.” He whispers pleadingly, his body still trembling from the bliss you had just given him. After a short while with tender touches, he starts to fix your hair for you, tightening loose ties, repositioning pins he’d skewed, all the while pressing small innocent kisses to your cheeks and collar.
You smile up at him adoringly when he finally stands and extends his hand to you.
“Alas my dearest one, we will have many more moments like this. In our own chambers…. In our own marriage bed.” Your voice is husky as he laces his fingers with yours and a boyish smile decorates his blushed cheeks.
“Indeed. We shall have many, many more tonight. And many, many more after that.” He steals a bashful look at you as you both start walking hurriedly through the secret passage once again, feeling a lot warmer than the time before, before he continues quietly, his voice just above a whisper.
“I believe we shall have them for the rest of our lives, in fact.”
You both hesitate before you head back into the great hall, Aemond’s pace faltering and softly taking your hands in his to gaze down at you with a purposeful glint in his eye. The faint sounds of your guests echo from behind the tapestry, the clatter of servants rushing by.
“... Come now, Aemond, my Dragon, we must go back. They will fear you have kidnapped me! To think, before my arrival to King’s Landing I was told that you were a rather wicked Prince?”
You giggle, watching Aemond ignore you entirely to lick at his thumb, reaching up to your face to brush away a wet patch of his spend from the corner of your mouth.
His hand lingers on your face to stroke at the apple of your cheek with his thumb, his lilac eye hooded and dreamy. “Oh I intend to be wicked with you however and whenever I can. You can be quite sure of that.”
Something shifts after he says this, his face still pink but seemingly for another reason entirely. You watch as his lips tremble and the tendons in his neck contract like he’s struggling to speak.
“But, I wonder… did they ever tell you how much the wicked Prince… loves you?”
A warmth like no other spreads across your chest and a blinding smile blossoms on your face.
He loves you.
“... Because I do love you, Y/N. Most ardently.”
As your eyes locked to his, the celebrations outside, the whole night seemed to fade away, leaving only the pulsating rhythm of your heart and his. You’d kissed countless times but in that moment it felt timeless, your lips gently meeting in a breath-taking embrace that whispered promises of a lifetime ahead full of happiness and devotion.
“... Now come on, little Doe. Let us away.” Aemond whispers tenderly against your lips as you break apart.
Taking your arm in his he parts open the tapestry, the light of the feast flooding into the dark space you had stolen yet another moment together in. With a deep breath, you take a step towards the Great Hall, and a greater step towards your future with him.
#Ewan Mitchell#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd fic#aemond smut#hotd fanfiction#Fics by me
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In The Habit Of Having You With Me
for the Stiles Shipping Central monthly exchange!! haven't done one of these in a while, lol, and haven't written for my beloved boys in even longer 🥺 back on my unrelenting fluff bullshit, sorry not sorry, hope you enjoy uwu
| Sterek | 865w | Gen | Established Relationship | Mornings | Fluff |
(also on AO3)
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Despite being a mythological creature largely associated with the nighttime, Derek had always been an early riser. The world was a noisy, noisy place, and early morning was the quietest it ever seemed to get. Especially when he was young, his large house crammed with an even larger family, the hour before dawn was the only option if he wanted to experience anything other than chaos, so he made it a habit to be the first one up. Call it the self-defense mechanism of the introverted middle child.
There was just something deeply peaceful about the stillness of it, the hush of a day before it’s properly begun, the slowness that precedes the scramble of business as usual.
Not to mention, he loved a good sunrise. The only thing better than standing on the porch in brisk fall weather to watch the sun rise over the treeline with a cup of good coffee in hand would be doing so with the love of his life at his side.
Unfortunately, it took a fucking forklift to get Stiles out of bed in the morning.
Most days, Derek would roll over somewhere around 6:20am with a yawn and a good, deep stretch. He would turn to gaze lovingly at his boyfriend and find Stiles face down in a pillow, completely unresponsive, snoring fit to wake the devil. He would nudge and poke and whisper and drop kisses on whatever part of Stiles he could reach. Stiles would mumble back something along the lines of “carrier twelve mirror dog” or “where’d you put the Gilligan” and fling an arm out in Derek’s direction like he was casting a fishing line. Sometimes this hit him in the face, sometimes it missed completely, and sometimes it successfully snagged Derek around the waist.
Derek liked that Stiles always wanted him close, so strongly that even his subconscious was always reaching out for him. It was endearing. Made Derek feel very loved.
However, it also prevented him from getting out of the bed. This made Derek feel very annoyed, especially when Stiles was of the opinion that “morning” didn’t begin until somewhere around 10am.
One would think that, as a werewolf, Derek would be able to extricate himself from his human boyfriend’s embrace without too much trouble, but, somehow, one would be wrong. Stiles had to have some kind of fucking were-octopus genetics in his lineage somewhere because some mornings, Derek came very close to having to chew his own arm off if he didn’t want to lie there, wide awake and affectionately trapped, for four hours. There were a lot of sacrifices that he was willing to make for Stiles, but four conscious, bed-ridden hours without coffee was not one of them.
And so Derek spent most mornings alone, on the porch of his newly rebuilt home, with his coffee and his sunrise and his silence.
It wasn't as nice as it used to be.
This particular one really was lovely, though, even if he'd had to pry himself regretfully out of Stiles’ grip to earn the privilege of seeing it. It painted the Preserve with pink and gold, a stunningly beautiful backdrop to match the charming soundtrack of the early birds cheeping to each other. There were no cars yet on the nearby road. Only the sounds of nature and—
“Cannot believe you do this every day.”
Before Derek could turn around, familiar arms wound their way around his waist. An equally familiar forehead thunked against the nape of his neck. Derek took one hand off the warmth of his coffee cup to cover Stiles’ where they clasped each other over his stomach.
“You're up,” he said. “You're never up.”
Stiles made a plaintive sound, cold nose nuzzling. “Missed you.”
Derek smiled. “Do you want some of my coffee?”
“Fuck no, I'm going back to sleep in, like, point-two minutes and you can't stop me.”
Derek's smile grew. “I wouldn't try.”
He tapped at Stiles’ hands until he loosened his hold, then turned himself around without leaving the embrace. Stiles’ face was grumpy and bleary, pillow creases still marring his cheeks, and he only deigned to crack open one of his eyes. He was every bit as beautiful as the sunrise.
Derek kissed him. Stiles’ grumpy expression did not change, but he made another of those plaintive little noises when Derek pulled back. His fingers flexed against Derek's lower back, holding him tighter.
Derek said, “Thank you.”
“You better appreciate how much I love you, dude. I would not do this for literally anybody else.”
“I know.”
Derek turned back around and let Stiles adhere himself to his back. Within seconds, Stiles was snoring against his shoulder. Derek didn't mind. In a few minutes, he would rouse Stiles again and lead him back to bed. Derek might even join him there, read a book or something while Stiles used him as a teddy bear for another hour or two.
For the moment, though, he was excruciatingly content. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the coffee was perfectly brewed, and the love of his life was—grudgingly—at his side. He'd been right. There really was nothing better.
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WLW Masterlist
Rhaenyra x reader x Alicent (House of the Dragon)
Skade x reader (The Last Kingdom)
Praise kink with Helaena (House of the Dragon)
Dacryphilia with Cersei (Game of Thrones)
Period sex with Skade (The Last Kingdom)
Corruption kink with Cersei (Game of Thrones)
Domme Skade (The Last Kingdom)
Rhaenyra with Harwin's wife (House of the Dragon)
#rhaenyra targaryen#alicent hightower#skade#helaena targaryen#cersei lannister#house of the dragon#the last kingdom#game of thrones#fics by me#masterlist#wlw
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Final chapter of part 6 is up y’all 🤭 it was a haul and a half but we made it🤩👍
#ao3 fanfic#fics by me#all i see is sunlight#come read my fic lol#demon slayer nezuko#demon slayer#art by op#demon tanjirou#kamado nezuko#kimetsu no yaiba#modern zenitsu for your pleasure#kinda obsessed with this hairstyle ngl
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In The Lonely Hour (4/10)
1 | 2 | 3 | AO3 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10
Summary: A collection of canon-compliant one-shots that provide glimpses of Killian's life based on the album "In the Lonely Hour" by Sam Smith.
I've Told You Now "The deeper the lie, the more truth in its echo."
Entering the expansive cavern went against every instinct Killian had honed over the centuries of surviving on this bloody island. He shoved aside the memories of the sailors' cries that were lost due to his ignorance of this particular cruelty. Far too many men had died before he learned that you must speak a truth for the cave to permit your escape. Even after they understood this, he lost men to the cave. Those who refused to face the lies they told themselves suffered slow deaths but were afforded the peace and comfort of their deceptions.
The cruelty of this game of Pan's would have lasting effects on the interactions between everyone in this family. The way they cared for each other meant the lies they harboured were in protection of one another, they were truths hidden out of kindness and bound in the depths of their hearts out of love for one another. The words that would be spoken would free those truths and, in doing so, shatter their perceptions. These were the truths that would force them to reframe their understanding of one another.
Once Killian offered his recently discovered truth into the air, he felt an emptiness that he hadn’t anticipated. For centuries, he knew the loss of his only love. He was defined by his devotion to avenging her death. His entire persona was crafted around the need to right the wrong of her life taken by an evil lizard of a man. His revenge on her behalf was a noble calling that consumed him completely. Without it, there was nothing.
Except for that kiss. Uncharted lands were begging to be plundered in that kiss.
When her lips crashed into his, his heart had stirred. And, a truth he'd tucked carefully under layers of flirtation and swagger surfaced.
As he stood apart from the group, his words heavy between them, he felt cold and small. A feeling enhanced by the enormity of the cavern around them. Emma stared hard at him, her eyes filled with a storm of emotion for a moment. She blinked it away, those walls of hers firmly in place.
Killian could not move on from that moment, even when a piece of the bridge appeared, even as other secrets were revealed. He kept replaying that moment, trying to read the storm in her eyes to best adjust his heading to survive whatever was to come next.
——
A quiet thick with tension settled over the campsite as the final rays of sunlight faded away. A feeling of loss squeezed Killian’s chest as he kept watch with the company of his flask. He knew the game had hurt them, but he thought that they were stronger than any of Pan’s twisted machinations. He needed them to be stronger. Love should be stronger, he wanted to yell it at them and shake them out of this strangling silence.
Leaves whispered behind him, followed by the crunch of the grass underfoot. Straightening, Killian tucked away the smile that threatened, “Swan, how nice of you to join me.”
He could feel her eye roll as she sat beside him on the fallen tree trunk. Her arm brushed against his coat and he yearned to feel her warmth against him once more. He would never be able to forget the soft silk of her hair between his fingers, the fullness of her lips as she pressed them into his, or the yearning for more - more of everything - in her green eyes before she close them off from him. He wanted so much more than a one-time thing and he knew she did, too.
“Pan really did a number on us,” Emma said, nodding toward the campsite.
“He's a demon. He knows how to draw the worst things out of you and use them to control you,” Killian offered his flask to her. Emma took it, taking a long drink before handing it back to him. A few drops of escaped rum rested on her bottom lip and he watched her, mesmerised, as she rubbed her lips together, smearing the rum over them, leaving them glistening. His throat suddenly felt dry; he took a long pull from the flask to steady himself clear the thickness in his throat.
“She wants to be a mom. She said she missed it with me,” Emma’s voice started soft but gained strength as she spoke, “She missed it with me. She sent me through a wardrobe, alone, to a different realm, and she is upset that she missed it with me?”
Emma scoffed in bewilderment, “I was alone, Hook. I was alone and they justify it because I was the one destined to save them. An infant. Alone. But, it’s okay because I am ‘the Saviour’ and ‘we’re all together now’.”
Killian wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, “You should be mad. No kid should be abandoned.” His heart pounded with anger on behalf of the young girl thrown into an unknown world, for the young boy sold to pay off another’s debt, and for the stories behind all the cries now filling the overly hot Neverland night.
“I hate them sometimes,” she admitted softly, leaning into his arms. He rested his chin on the top of her head, his heart breaking for her and still raging at the injustices of the worlds; a child should not have to save her parents. He hated that she’d had to build those walls to survive. He hated that she felt she had to keep building them up around her parents, she deserved the family she’d always desired. He hated them, too, for the sadness in her voice and loneliness that meant she could hear the wails of the lost ones.
“I know, love,” he soothed, speaking into her hair. He fought the urge to kiss her on the top of her head, she was being vulnerable with him and he was absolutely not going to do anything to jeopardise that. Instead, he tightened his arm around her, “They should have been there. They were your parents and they should have been there.”
“Oh, they’ll be there this time,” Emma’s voice was flat, a calm surface disguising the powerful currents below.
Brennan tucking in his replacement son flashed in Killian’s memory, “Hate them as long as you need to.”
“Thanks.” After a beat, she sat up suddenly and turned to look at him, “Hook, why are you here?”
“I’ve got the first watch,” Killian replied.
Emma cut her eyes at him, not buying his feigned ignorance for a moment.
“Swan, I…,” Killian started, but he stopped himself. His eyes were begging her to drop the question and just let it be. He would not lie to her if she kept pressing. But, this wasn’t the time for another confession. She knew how he felt. He knew declaring his affections for her mere moments after she’d let him peak over the fortress walls was the wrong thing to do. He knew that she needed the protection of her playful annoyance between them for now and he knew exactly how to pull that from her. He cleared his throat and smiled his most salacious smile before playing answering her question. “Didn’t you hear? I’m a proper hero, Swan. I’m here to reunite a brave young boy with his breathtakingly beautiful mother so that she’ll grace me with one of her rare smiles.”
Emma rolled her eyes at him, but there was a sparkle in her eyes that gave him a sliver of hope. She pushed off the tree and turned toward the camp, “Good luck getting that smile out of Regina,” she called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the jungle, returning to the camp where her parents and Baelfire would be waiting for her.
Killian shuttered at the image she’d conjured in his mind. But, his heart leapt at the playfulness in her words. The simple fact she was playing with him, teasing him, even in these bleak surroundings filled him with a bright lightness that he would die to protect; it was a warmth he hadn’t known he was missing, but he knew he could not continue to survive without it. He was already a captive of her siren song; and, he was all too willing to let it drown him.
Hook, why are you here?
“To prove that I am more than I have been, Swan,” he looked to the stars, as if they could help him navigate this mess he was in, “and, maybe, to become someone worthy…” but even in the safety of the still night he couldn’t say it aloud.
Yet, his heart kept beating with a desperate need, with a new goal that he would pursue with even more fervour than he had his revenge on the Crocodile, with the truth that had surfaced when their lips met, and the thing he needed as much as his next breath; I need to prove that I am someone worthy of you.
#killian jones#captain swan#captain hook#echo caves#neverland#In The Lonely Hour#we have entered angst territory#fics by me#Fics by Jas#manip by jas#cs fanfic#killian x emma#cs ff#once upon a time#emma swan#writes by Jas#fic by Jas
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➸ Rated All (For part 1 at least)
➸ Summary: You have work to do, but a certain mascot keeps dropping in to brighten your day. OR how you fell for a professional football mascot.
➸ Word count: 7K
➸ Pairing: JK x reader
➸ Genre: Rom Com Meet Cute stuff, but will get spicy later
➸ Warnings: I don’t limit my language, and so my characters don’t either. Awkward OC. Takes place at a blood drive…?
➸ A/N: So this is kind of based on real life events, if they got flirty. LOL.
______________________
It was just your luck that all the parking spots on the street were already taken.
You weren’t one to mindlessly rove the aisles to find the closest spot to park. Usually, you just pulled into the first spot you came across and walked from there, with little regard for how far away it was. However, when you were going to the stadiums, it was either park on the street or you may as well park a million miles away for how long you had to foot it. And this wasn’t an ordinary day, anyway. Forget the fact that you were at the local football stadium, which was a rare event for you anyway (not that you didn’t like attending games, but gosh those tickets were expensive), this was a unique situation for many reasons.
Parking a million miles away, you turned off your car and could already hear the wind and feel it whipping your car. Checking your watch, you were right on time, which really meant you were 15 minutes late because of the walk you had ahead of you, so you decided to pull up your big girl britches, as your mom would say, and fling the door open.
Before you were even fully out of the car the obscenities were already flying and you didn’t have the energy or the interest to check to see if anyone was around to hear you. You were here in a work capacity, but you always had that toxic trait that extreme discomfort always overrode any other considerations in your brain.
The street parking was looking even better about now, as you flung open yet another door on your car to grab your overlarge satchel bag, the yard signs, and your backpack from the backseat. Fumbling as you normally do, you did your best to perform as though you had ten arms instead of two as you tried to hold your composure and look perfectly put together like the boss bitch you were. Unfortunately, it very quickly crumbled when you reached to grab your keys to lock your car and everything fell out of your arms.
“Great, y/n. Nothing like being bent over the dirty cement in a skirt with 90 mile per hour winds,” you grumbled to yourself. Completely on brand, you managed to drop everything 3 more times before you got fully situated to make your way to the door in your sensible heels.
For about the 50th time since you took this job, you wondered if you would have taken it had you understood what all it entailed. I mean, sure, you worked for the leading Children’s Hospital in the Tri-State Area, for the head of Marketing and Communications, in a field and for an organization that saved people’s lives, and not just any people, but babies! It was incredibly rewarding work and meant that you went to bed each night feeling accomplished and emotionally fulfilled. That was never the problem. It was more the side effects of being a clumsy, ridiculously awkward, annoying introvert and working as the personal assistant to the most glowing and un-awkward human alive. And you swore, the harder you tried to act normal, the weirder you would act and the more embarrassing you would be. Like Elyse Meyers, but not as charming.
Today was an important day though, because your boss was hosting a blood drive in partnership with the local sports teams for an informational initiative surrounding sickle cell patients. Your hospital was the smoking gun because children always spoke more profoundly to the public. You all were expecting hundreds of donations of blood before it even struck Noon.
By the time you made it to the building your fingers were numb and your knees were knocking, but you immediately started thawing upon entry, only to be mauled by your boss.
“Where have you been?” Before you could answer she was launching into more commentary as you sat your things down on the entry desk next to your teammate who obviously arrived before you and looked smug. “The editor of the Times is already here, as are all 4 main news affiliates. You should have been here before them. You know this.”
“I’m sorry, I had to run back to the office to get all the materials. Then, I hit traffic and once I got here all the front spots were gone and I had all of this to bring in,” you said, indicating the signs and tools for the check in table.
“Those aren’t in the ground yet?” Your boss practically yelled at you when her eyes landed on the signs.
“That was the next thing on my list of to dos!”
“Please, I’m begging you. Get it done immediately and get back in here. We have interviews and I need you taking photos for our Facebook and IG pages. Go!”
You rushed off to do your boss's bidding. You knew it would be hell to pay when you got there. Your teammate, the aforementioned smug-faced bi…brat, also known as Jane, had left behind the packet of materials the last time she was in the office and called you with zero time to spare to ask if you could stop by to get it because you lived closer to the office than she did. You couldn’t argue with the logic, though you wondered how much of an “accident” it truly was. You weren’t generally a grudge holder, but you were going to watch that one.
As Jane had been assigned front desk duties for today, she sat quietly gossiping with Event staff, while you were taking 3 signs out to put in the ground to indicate to donors where to enter.
The wind hadn’t calmed even slightly, but you only had enough time to partially thaw anyway, so what difference did it really make anyway? You found a good spot and started working the sign into the frozen ground to the best of your ability. Struggling, more like, as you also tried to hold the other two signs under your arm as you shoved the first with all your might into the ground. The cold metal burning through your skin like a brand, but you ignored the pain in favor of the goal.
You finally decided to throw the other two to the ground as you jumped up on the cross rungs on the first sign to try to use your own body weight to push it into the ground. No dice.
With another rough gust of wind, you finally got the first sign in the ground, just as the first two took flight from the gust and began running away from you across the street.
“No!” You shouted feebly, until a hand reached down and caught the two signs and lifted them toward you.
Staring down at you from a short distance, was a ridiculously tall silent visitor with the head of an animal and giant googly eyes.
“Oh, hi Wolfie,” you said in introduction to the man in the mascot costume. This particular mascot face was as familiar to you as the team he represented. As a local for your whole life, it was a welcome and calming face to see, even frozen in a fake smile. “Thanks for your help.”
You reached for the signs and as you took them he mimed shivering to indicate that you must be cold.
“Yeah, it’s a bit chilly, but I’ve got to get these in the ground before donors show up. Are you staying for the event?” You asked. Wolfie ignored the question. Instead, he took one of the signs back from you and started walking to the other side of the street as though to continue your work for you.
“Oh, that’s nice of you but you don’t have to do that!”
But there was no deterring him. You had to admit though, after determining the best place to put it, it took him less than a second to get it into the ground, as opposed to your own struggle to do the same.
“Wow. That was impressive.”
At that he rushed back over in his oversized shoes, with the wolf gloves on his hands to take the other sign from you and quickly march over to the other side of the sidewalk to input the third sign. He pointed to one spot and then another and then another spot again and then tipped his head in question in a way both hilarious and adorable and you showed him where to go though you objected to his help even as he was putting it in the ground. His antics had you giggling, and he seemed to enjoy it because he continued to act silly to make you laugh.
After he was done, he ushered you back toward the building with aplomb, and with a laugh you preceded him in. The staff and your teammate sitting inside seemed surprised to see you laughing and chatting away with a 7-foot-tall mascot, especially as he continued to stay silent but for the sound of his googly eyes shaking. The instant self-consciousness returned and before you even had time to mentally process it, your whole being had already transferred back to professional mode. Checking your watch and finding the nearest staircase, the anxiety of the moment returned and a To Do List repopulated in your brain.
With anxiety in every pore of your body you remembered your priorities and went diving in your bag for your phone and clipboard of photo consent forms and talking points, so you could get back to work.
Just before you left to take the escalator behind the front desk, you glanced back and saw Wolfie there, still smiling the fake mascot smile, but somehow you read deeper thoughts going on behind those googly eyes. He had helped you, graciously, kindly. He hadn’t needed to. He simply did. You always knew you liked that adorable wolf face, but now you knew the person behind it was a sweetie too.
You smile and wave and say, “see ya ‘round, Wolfie.” And then you head off to get more work done.
_____
It is some hours later after interviews are over, donors are flooding in, photos have been taken, consent forms received from those photographed, that you are taking a quick break to get a bite to eat in the commons area. It is quiet at this time, since it isn’t anywhere near lunch time. You rarely ever eat during regular lunch hours anyway, so you feel right at home. You are watching a video on your phone about ancient aliens because you love conspiracy theory stuff even though you don’t believe any of it. You are eating a banana chip and humming lightly to yourself when you hear a crash in the kitchen/concession booth across from where you are sitting. You become aware that you aren’t alone and turn the volume down on your phone, but when you look up to see who it is, all you see is an empty room. That is until a familiar pair of googly eyes appear from above the counter to the concession booth.
You instantly laugh as he shakes his head making the googly eyes shake. The funniest part is knowing the man’s actual face is in the throat of the giant mascot head, meaning he is miming all of this without being able to see anything other than the back side of the kitchen counter. That thought alone makes you laugh harder, and his (actual) head clears the top.
In true professional mascot fashion, he plays to the laughter as he mimes one of his famous dances and rolls onto the counter. He then proceeds to fall off the counter in front of the kitchen and try to brush himself off and act cool. All of which has you in stitches, not least of which because you know it is all an act. He clearly carries himself like someone very coordinated and put together, who uses that performance gene to really play up his own physical comedy. You know this being someone who is not very coordinated OR very put together but has to actually try hard to look like you do. It is almost like a sixth sense to note the opposite trait in another person. Or maybe you are just able to pick up on his unspoken body language because you also know without doubt that he is smiling widely as you giggle at his display.
“How is your day going so far?” You ask, even knowing he won’t answer with words. He shows you the thumbs up and nods his head dramatically.
After helping you with the yard signs, you saw him often during the interviews and photo ops, because he’s the mascot, after all. He has to run around making everyone cheery and laugh and he was good at it. But every once in a while, he would look your way, and wave or do something silly to catch your attention and make you laugh. He even once distracted a group of reporters when you dropped your clipboard and scattered what felt like 100 pages of paper across the floor that you, embarrassed and ashamed, had to pick up and sort before your boss called you over for more photos. And he did that just to draw eyes away from you and let you wallow on the ground in peace.
“Gosh, you are positive,” you say in awe. “I can’t imagine it is very comfy inside that suit and you’ve been here as long as me…or longer, I guess. I don’t know exactly when you got here.”
He waves you off as if to say it’s no big deal.
“No, I’m serious! I’ve been running around like a chicken with my head cut off and here you are enjoying yourself and being positive.”
He tips his head to his hand that rests on the table and just stares at you. It is at once unnerving, but also incredibly comfortable. A weird, unsettling combination.
“Well, anyway.” You smile widely in answer. “It’s a good reminder! And I appreciate it. I appreciated your kindness and positive energy this morning. It was a whirlwind and you helped make it less stressful.”
He stuck his hand out to give you a high five and you couldn’t help but laugh again before you enthusiastically smacked your hand against his.
As if to change the subject, he leaned across the table as if to see what was on your phone, without actually taking a peek, as if he was miming the question without actually intruding.
“Oh gosh, don’t tease me, but I’m watching Ancient Aliens. I love this show, it’s so weird and these guys really do their research, even though it is all hocus pocus…” you said as you continued to babble and showed him the phone, describing the latest episode and theories on the use of gold deposits to fuel ancient aircraft. He didn’t seem to mind, if anything he seemed quite comfortable listening to you babble, so you just kept going.
“Have you had lunch?” You ask him when you feel you’ve exhausted the subject and are probably annoying him like you do to everyone. He still makes no sound aside from the jiggle of his googly eyes, but he shrugs his shoulders in answer. “Just because you are in a mask doesn’t mean you don’t need to eat.” You pass him your uneaten cookie, “Here you can have my cookie.”
Something in your tone or demeanor seems to surprise him with that statement, as he nearly breaks character, turning his head and coughing. It’s the first indication of a voice from him and at least now you know it definitely is a male under there.
“If it makes you feel better,” you say in response to his cough, “I’ll look away so you don’t blow your cover.”
You laugh as you push the cookie across the table to him and cover your eyes. “Your secret is safe with me!”
But the silence that meets your laughter is followed by a pair of fuzzy gloves grabbing your hands to pull them away from your eyes and when you open them, you see his head tilted to the side in question. The warmth of his hands in his gloves combined with his quiet confidence and calming presence stops the giggles and you can’t look away from where you know his eyes are looking back at you. His actual eyes, not the googly eyes.
There is something in the silence like understanding, from both sides, that is charged with some unnamed energy that at once makes you nervous but equally makes you want to laugh, because, I mean, he’s a grown man in a wolf costume.
But is he a grown man? Maybe he’s a teenager or a college kid, or any level of immature man baby, you don’t know. You don’t even know what he looks like under there, but somehow it doesn’t even matter because the way he has treated you today has been spectacular.
It seemed like every time you saw him so far this morning, he had gone out of his way to brighten your day, and it had worked. So did it really matter what he looked like? Not really.
“Y/n, are you in here?” You heard your boss’s voice from the entry to the commons. Your head and Wolfie’s both swiveled around together to see your boss rushing toward you in haste.
“I’m sorry, I know you are on lunch break, but the players just arrived and Channel 8 wants an exclusive interview between Paul and the players. We need more marketing coverage for the website and socials, and Jane has already left for the day.” Honestly, how does that girl still have a job, you thought, but would never say out loud. Paul, meaning the CEO of the Hospital who had arrived only a few hours ago and who literally held your entire career in his hands, waited for no one. Lunch or not, it was time to get back to work, which meant leaving Wolfie once again.
You acknowledged your boss with a “I’m done anyway.” A lie. And proceeded to throw the rest of your uneaten food back into your bag. Wolfie gave you judgmental eyes through it all, which you could feel, though you wouldn’t be able to see it, even if you looked at him. But just before you left, he waved in front of your face and when you looked at him, he drew a smile with his fingers in front of his real face, breaking character for sure this time, and you smiled at the sentiment.
Smiling widely to reward him for his efforts, you grabbed your bag to leave. Resting your hand on his arm in thanks, you took your leave in the same silence he inhabited.
____
It was another hour or so before the talent and your C-Suite level boss left and you could finally breathe. Not only were you in the presence of your skip skip skip level boss, but you were also star struck from the players in attendance. A Hall of Famer that you grew up watching on TV as well as one of the hottest new players on the current team were in attendance and donating too! It was all quite overwhelming for you and your humble sensibilities.
You had also spent time talking to donors and hearing stories of how donations had impacted their own lives and it reminded you of why you loved what you did for a living, even as it overwhelmed you. Your boss had talked at length with you about the stats and impact of the work you all did today so far, and you could tell. It was amazing how each time a news station went live on TV you immediately felt the impact in the boost to walk-ins.
It was nearly 10 hours into the day and there had already been 4 pickups of donations when you and your boss were finally taking a load off at the front desk. You hadn’t quite kicked up your feet or anything, but you may as well have for how relaxed you both got. Your boss could be tough, but she was equally easy going when the times called for it. Slouching in your seat and closing your eyes for a while was not only encouraged at this point, she equally participated in it.
Event staff for the stadium made up the background music as your eyes were closed. Their quiet laughter soothed your mind as they discussed the autographs they got from the players who were on site. It was like a family barbecue rather than a job as they discussed different players they had met over the years and different funny anecdotes from each encounter. You couldn’t help it, but you were almost asleep after the long day, and the quiet chatter. It was like a lullaby to your exhausted mind.
“What the heck is he doing?” Your boss asked in a whisper, not necessarily to you, but close enough that your curiosity got the better of you.
As you opened your eyes, you saw her looking through the windows that looked into another entry space of the stadium where a group of people were looking around confused as if trying to find something in particular. But suddenly you saw your friend Wolfie running up to them, waving his arms and doing his signature dance moves. The group were clearly laughing and waving phones in the air in a way that meant they were asking for photos with him.
“Oh, Wolfie is so nice.” One of the staff said. “They do tours of the stadium, but Korey Ann was running late for her shift, so I think he is keeping them busy until she gets here.”
You couldn’t hide your fondness from your smile, nor did you want to.
“By the way, did you find his…um….gift from earlier?” The same staff asked, looking directly at you. Confused by the question, you looked around trying to find who they might be talking to but found only other faces looking directly at you and laughing.
“Gift?”
“Check your photos on your phone.” Another staff shouted from across the lobby.
Confused, you pulled out your phone and unlocked it, and immediately saw exactly what they were referencing.
Your camera app was still open because you had been taking pictures all day, but in the preview in the bottom corner you didn’t see a thumbnail of a donor or your CEO or even one of the players who came to donate.
No.
The picture was of Wolfie. Wolfie holding up two fingers like a peace sign in a typical selfie pose.
“Oh god,” you said as the room around you started laughing, even your boss. You couldn’t open your photos fast enough. What greeted you were probably hundreds of selfies of the Wolf mascot, in various locations in the stadium hall.
“You really shouldn’t leave your phone unlocked and unattended,” your boss said with a laugh.
“You knew?” You asked her. She only laughed in response. You thought back to the few times throughout the day that you placed your phone down whether to grab something, help someone, or do really anything that required more than one free hand and you immediately put all the dots together. You had long ago set your phone to have no timeout mode from inactivity, so if you sat it down without locking it, it would just remain open indefinitely. It was a setting you deliberately chose because you spent so much time reading on your phone and the timeout drove you insane. It was a setting you now instantly regretted.
Your phone was FULL of photos of the mascot. Each one was funnier than the last. Some photos were of him alone, others included staff of the stadium or the hospital; some were posed, some candid. No wonder everyone knew about it except you. The more you looked through the photos, the more incredulous you got. And yet, conversely and somehow equally, the more you looked the more impressed you got. How did he manage to get this many photos? Your phone wasn’t unattended THAT long. Not to mention, the difficulty of using the touch screen in a pair of thick wolf gloves!
You glanced into the adjacent entryway to see Wolfie silently miming a cackling laugh as he covered his mouth with his hand and raised his shoulders repeatedly in an over-dramatization of laughter. Clearly, he was witnessing your discovery of his little present.
You over-dramatized anger back by pouting and putting your hands on your hips aggressively. This only seemed to make him laugh harder, but this time much more naturally as his shoulders and posture relaxed back and he rolled onto the heels of his feet.
The room around you laughed as well and erupted into stories of how he narrowly missed getting caught by you on multiple occasions. You couldn’t take your eyes from the man in the Wolf suit, though. He was trying to mime to you to keep looking through the photos, but you were more interested in getting him to come over to answer for his crimes. His responding miming indicated he was a bit busy with tour groups. You couldn’t help but be even more endeared by it. Damn him.
Even as he was waving his hands around to show he was busy a little girl came up tapping him on the leg to get his attention. He instantly went into entertainment mode: making his googly eyes jiggle, doing his game day dance, and patting the little girl’s adorable cheeks with his fuzzy gloved hands.
You melted at the look on the little girl’s face, a look both nostalgic and magical, remembering your own personal feelings upon meeting mascots when you were a little kid. And Wolfie was perfect, just as he should be at that moment. He made the little girl laugh at just the right moments, and posed for endless photos with the little girl, letting her practically climb all over him as he sat on the ground to be at her level. Her parents scolded her for doing so, but he waved them off, clearly enjoying the adorable display.
You felt your (admittedly imaginary) irritation disintegrate, and you were left with only feelings of fondness and curiosity. You can’t believe you are even thinking it, but you think you have a crush on a man in a 7-foot Wolf costume.
Just as the thought enters your head, his eyes swivel to yours, but you aren’t looking at the googly eyes, you once again are drawn to where his true eyes are, hidden in the mesh at the neck of the Wolf costume. It snaps you out of your trance and you hop up. Cutting off the laughter of those around you, you act (emphasis on the word act) as though you are cool as a cucumber.
“Well, it is nearly quitting time, boss,” you say in a forced casual tone to your lounging boss, who looks back quizzically at you with tired eyes. “I’ll get the signs and forms from all the tables and the yard signs from outside. Should I grab anything else to bring back to the office? I’ll just stop there before I go home.”
“No, I think that should do it,” she answers as though she is asking a question, seeming confused at your sudden change. She goes to stand slowly, but you wave her off and tell her you’ve got it covered.
“You should head home.” You tell her. “You’ve been here since 5am.”
She nods in agreement and starts to slowly get out of the chair as she pulls together all her things and puts her coat on that was folded neatly on a shelf behind the desk.
“See you tomorrow?” She asks and you nod once quickly before she thanks all the event staff for their help and then proceeds out into the cold night air.
You decide to rush off to get the numerous remaining information materials you had scattered about in the building. Phlebotomy staff would truly clean up the drive, but all the marketing materials and additional promotions were all your responsibility. You flitted from table to table, trying not to think about the absolutely absurd butterflies in your stomach each time you thought about the man in the mascot costume.
How sad are you, y/n? You asked yourself. Has it been so long since you’ve been in a relationship that even a man you’ve never seen, nor spoken to outside of soliloquy can make you feel like this?
Another part of your brain raised the possibility that if he could make you feel like this without words or an actual FACE, then GOD, what a freaking MAN he could be.
Your pessimistic nature wouldn’t let that sit, though. You had learned in life that things were generally too good to be true, so instead you told yourself, louder - to your inner monologue, he could be a real uggo.
At this point, though, who were you kidding, ugly or the most gorgeous man alive, it didn’t really matter. You were smitten with googly eyes!
“What a fucking weirdo.” You whispered to yourself as you turned to grab the last of your materials, only to find Wolfie standing there. Silent as ever.
“Shit.” You said surprised by his sudden appearance. “You scared me.” You said as you tried to hide your blush and avoid his eyes, busying yourself with your tasks. You felt embarrassed by your thoughts, feeling transparent, like he could read you like a book with little effort. If you had looked up, you would have instantly noticed confusion in him, though you couldn’t see his face. You somehow had become attune to him. A fact that made him not just curious but fascinated with you.
It was weird. Jungkook had been a mascot for several years. He started when his college rock band went under and he needed a way to pay his bills. He was always an athletic guy and liked the idea of it when his roommate’s brother mentioned he had the right build for it and how much it paid.
Nowadays, Jungkook only performed as Wolfie when he decided to pick up an event on the weekdays since his career as a professional dancer had really launched. Despite his parents’ predictions, he had consistent jobs thanks to his skills and his good reputation. He never wanted to give up Wolfie, though. It was fun getting to be faceless and silly with absolutely no regrets. Anonymity has an odd power to liberate, and he never felt freer. Plus, he was addicted to the stars in people’s eyes when they saw him in the suit. Not just kids either. Adults were just grown-up kids too when faced with a mascot. It was a special kind of magic that he got to wield when no one could see his face.
Today was the first time in all these years that he regretted any of it. Of all the things he agreed to when he put on the costume, he never realized that the clause about protecting the character’s mystery by not revealing his face or voice at any time during his shift would be the hardest to fulfill on this particular day.
He had heard about the event and knew he would do anything to be there. The cause was one he was passionate about. He had been volunteering in the cancer ward of the Children’s hospital since he was a kid and his father used to bring him along to teach him “civic responsibility”. He liked going these days for story time to read or sing to the kids. So when he heard the event was for the hospital, he signed up immediately without even paying attention to how long of a day it would be.
A few hours was a long day in the costume, so originally he had been meant to leave in the early afternoon, but you had changed all his plans.
When he first saw you out in the cold and the wind, he had mostly been entertained and curious about you. He could not for the life of him figure out what you were doing as you struggled to wrestle the yard signs under one arm while forcing with sheer will to get the other in the frozen ground. Your outfit was so incredibly out of place in these conditions too, with your blazer and flowing skirt. Even your sensible bun knew that it wasn’t in the right place as it fought to escape the coif you had put it in. He had outright laughed at the vision of you. He was charmed immediately. Especially when you cursed loudly into the wind.
By the time he saw into your fathomless eyes, he was a goner.
So by 2, when he was supposed to go home, he decided to stay instead. It was a weird thing being in the hot heavy wolf costume for 10 hours, but at least he had the locker room to himself when he needed a break or to take a leak. He just knew, with complete certainty, that he absolutely could not leave without getting up the courage to talk to you. To REALLY talk to you. Not mime at you to make you smile that gorgeous winning smile you had. Or distract people so that you could get a moment's peace and he could make your day. Because he knew that if anyone deserved to have their day made, it was you.
He had watched you all day, and it had convinced him that he had figured you out. He watched you help donors with such care and kindness as you rarely sat down for the whole 10 hours of the drive. He watched you place yourself wherever you were needed, working hard and effectively, juggling multiple tasks with an air of professionalism he admired. He had even watched you make a fool of yourself on occasion with your clumsy adorable antics as your face went beet red. So he knew you were a good sort of person, and one who was damn good at your job. He had always been attracted to people who were good at what they did, so it was no surprise that his eyes were glued to you, and not just because you were pretty.
Because you were definitely pretty.
But the most important things he learned about you were when he was up close and personal with you. As a mascot, he was used to people treating him a certain way. Not in a rude sense, but when you had a cartoon face and googly eyes, people tended to talk around you rather than to you, like you were an object rather than a person within the costume. It was one thing when kids did it, but adults would do it too. It was a weird automatic knee jerk reaction type of thing. You weren’t like that though.
From the moment you met him, with your shining eyes and beautiful smile, you addressed him like a person. You asked him questions, even when you knew he couldn’t answer in so many words. You made considerations for him like worrying if he had eaten, offering him your cookie. Though, admittedly, that particular offer had him blushing at the dirty thoughts it conjured in his head thinking of other sweet things you might have to offer him.
Probably most profoundly though was how you looked him directly in the face when you spoke with him. You probably weren’t even aware that you were doing it or how unsettling and oddly sexy it was. All his years as a mascot, people always looked at the face of Wolfie: that giant foot-tall cloth head that sat upon Jungkook’s actual head like a hat.
But not you. No, you looked directly into that obscured disguised mesh neck of Wolfie that offered Jungkook’s view out into the world. You looked directly where his eyes were, to the point you made him feel almost naked to your gaze, like you could see him in his totality. Like Wolfie wasn’t there at all.
And all day long he had been drawn to you like a moth to the flame at the absolute magnetism of that steady, kind, understanding gaze.
Little did he know you were having the same problem as him. Feeling self-conscious, and inadequate. I mean, you were feeling silly for liking a guy you had never seen or heard speak but imagine being the guy in the suit right. Never in a million years would he imagine you would be crushing on him as much as he was on you.
But here you both were. Two fools in “like”.
You were almost done collecting your things and there was a certain energy to your movements that spoke of hesitation. Jungkook could feel his window of opportunity closing and he was nothing if not an action taker. So despite his nerves, and despite his feelings of inadequacy, he was ready to shoot his shot.
You both were in a more secluded area of the event hall that led to a narrow hallway to the suites and donors were mostly gone anyway. The only people left at the venue were event staff for the stadium and hospital staff cleaning up in the main area of the blood drive, so you were both effectively alone. The day was over, so he wouldn’t be breaching contract by speaking to you or removing his mask, though it was still fairly frowned upon to be in a public space revealing his identity while still in the wolf suit. It was a risk he was willing to take though because he knew he didn’t have time to go back to the locker room to change. If he did, you would be gone by the time he got back.
So he took a deep breath, and cleared his throat so he wouldn’t squeak or do something equally stupid after not using his voice for a full day. Your head immediately came to attention at the sound of his voice, and he knew it was now or never.
You watched in awe as Wolfie removed his giant Wolf head with a flourish to reveal a head of dark, wet hair. You had a moment only to process the thought that his hair must be wet from sweat from being in that suit all day. And then, the man attached to the head of hair looked up.
To say you were surprised would be an understatement. Looking back at you were the biggest brown eyes sparkling with what looked like galaxies within them. Beneath that was a straight nose with gentle curves on the end. Beside that were two soft high cheekbones that were currently standing out as the pretty mouth beneath those was smiling. It was a mouth full of the cutest teeth that seemed to want to escape his pretty curved lips that wrapped around them. It reminded you of a bunny somehow. You were struck by tanned skin and two beauty marks, one on the bridge of his nose and one just below his bottom lip. And you were frozen in time as you looked upon the prettiest male face you had ever laid eyes on.
Inappropriately and somehow perfectly in character, you followed the beat of silence with an awkward laugh at the completely irrational turn of events. Slapping your hand to your mouth in embarrassment instantly. You could already feel your cheeks blushing, but you rushed to explain so you wouldn’t offend him.
“I don’t know why I laughed just now, you just surprised me, I guess…?” You babbled as he opened his mouth as if to speak. But in true y/n fashion, you couldn’t leave well enough (or embarrassed enough) alone. “Like, wow. You have an actual face!”
“Yes, I do.” He rushed to get a word in edgewise, but you were really gone by now and couldn’t seem to stop the word diarrhea that had to escape.
“And what a face!”
Great, y/n, going for full embarrassment today. Lovely.
“Sorry. That was…I don’t know what that was,” you said as you felt like your entire body was going to erupt. What was wrong with you? Why couldn’t you shut up?
But he was moving closer, tucking the mask under his arm all the while and smiling bigger with each passing word of stupidity you uttered.
“I just mean that I’m surprised! Normally, you would think a guy who wears a full body costume for a living would have something to hide, but that is definitely not true of you!” Ever your own worst enemy you couldn’t help but notice his strong shoulders and forearms too as he took off the gloves and unzipped the front of the costume to get more comfortable. GOD he was hot. Maybe that was why you were so effectively making a fool of yourself.
But he didn’t seem to mind as he giggled and extended his hand toward you, revealing a hand full of tattoos.
“Are you shitting me? Hand tattoos?! Hot AND cool, how is that fair?-“
“I’m Jungkook,” he said with a laugh as he effectively shut you up. “I’m going to save you from yourself here and just offer that we save the rest of the ego boosts for our first date. What do you say?”
His hand was still extended to take your hand in introduction and somehow your brain couldn’t process words but moved your hand to slot into his by route memory alone as you sounded out the word: date.
“Yes, date,” he said to what you thought had only been a question in your head, but obviously was spoke out loud.
“What do you think? Will you give a guy in a Wolf costume a chance at a date with you?”
“I guess that depends.”
“On?”
“Will you be wearing the suit on the date?”
“Which answer will get you to say yes?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then, sadly, the suit will be taking that night off.”
You paused for a full beat, in complete disbelief at the turn of events of the last few minutes. An hour ago, you were embarrassed to say you had a crush on a man in a Wolf costume. Now you are being asked out on a date by 2023’s “Sexiest Man Alive” winner, as far as you were concerned. It was a little too much to handle, but then again…
“So are you free this weekend?” You asked in a moment of boldness. He just smiled and told you to open up your photos again and look at the first photo he took on your phone.
Turns out he had originally stolen your phone for a purpose besides just making a joke by filling your phone with selfies. The first photo he took was of him holding up a piece of paper with a phone number on it and in a rushed script below it, he had written:
“Would love to meet you face to face. Friday?”
You huffed out a laugh but didn’t answer in words, as you navigated out of your photo app. After a few soundless taps on your phone screen, a buzz sounded from somewhere within Jungkook’s outfit. When he pulled out his phone, he saw a text from an unidentified number on the screen.
“Friday sounds great. Drinks and Dinner?”
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ִֶָ☾. who I write for
⭑ This list is not fully completed! will be continuously updated :)
The Ballad of the Songbirds and Snakes
⭑ Coriolanus Snow
⭑ Lucy Grey-Baird
Formula One
⭑ Lando Norris
⭑ Pierre Gasly
Formula Two
⭑ Franco Colapinto
⭑ Paul Aron
Miscellaneous/Unsorted
⭑ Billy the Kid
⭑ Arthur TV
⭑ Don’t see ur fav? req them!!
⭑ Back 2 home
#billy the kid#tbosas#lucy gray baird#coriolanus snow#lando norris#pierre gasly#franco colapinto#paul aron#masterlist#fics by me#Kisses4coryo
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“Does anyone else know?” Yuusaku sighs, slumping his ridiculously broad shoulders.
“No. Just me.”
“Oh... OK,” Yuusaku blinks, seems to relax a little. “Then what... what do you want, broth—Hyakunosuke?”
“Straight to the point, huh? Didn't think you had it in you.” Ogata sets his elbows on the table and leans closer to Yuusaku. “But then again, you're a smart kid, right? Father made sure to enrol you in the best schools, and then in the best university... Surely an education befitting of the sole Hanazawa heir.”
“What would the old man say, I wonder,” Ogata continues, “if he found out that the perfect son he’s invested so much time and money into spends his nights showing his ass to degenerates online?”
Ogata takes a sip of his coffee, entertained by the sight of Yuusaku's face being drained of all colour.
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#fics by me#written on my notes app#uploaded at 4 am#because that’s how I messy cope#sterek#teen wolf#derek hale#stiles stilinski#teen wolf spoilers#teen wolf movie#sterek fic rec#fix it fanfiction
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A Partner Like That
After Mob leaves, Reigen and Serizawa talk a little bit more about relationships. Or, how Reigen’s “a partner like that” line from the manga could be placed within anime canon.
Serirei (Serizawa/Reigen), missing scene, s03e09. Pre-relationship.
Read: (AO3) (Wattpad) (FFN)
#mob psycho 100#mp100#serirei#serizawa katsuya#reigen arataka#reigen#anime#manga#fanfiction#fics by me#my post#mine#corawritesthings#cora-writes-things
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The Boy Who Swallowed a Dragon's Fire
Aemond Targaryen x Original Character (Reader)
pronouns: She/her (afab)
rating: T
warnings: So fluffy it made me feel sick~
word count: 4500+
summary: Interesting things did seem to happen, but always to somebody else. This is, until the night of the hunt to celebrate your younger sister's marriage to her Lannister lion of a husband.
"You live inside my memories,
you live forever into the melody of a brook,
in the colour of this sky, in the fragrance of flowers."
The Promise of the World
authors note: I have returned from my holibobs! I've been listening to Joe Hisaishi for weeks as I've been lucky enough to get tickets to see him in London! I couldn't stop thinking about Aemond whenever I heard "A Walk in the Skies" from Howl's Moving Castle, and suddenly this little plot bunny formed. As always, likes, comments and reblogs are not a requirement, but lovely to return to. Huge thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs and @bottlesandbarricades for reading over this!
You had always hated the hunt.
Even more so the feasts afterwards and the raucous way the men would stomp around in all their armour and grandeur, proud to be covered in the blood of whatever poor animal they'd had the dumb luck to stumble upon in the woods.
The grounds of the Eyrie were covered in a rainbow patchwork of tents of all shapes and sizes. From the sky blue and silver colours of your own family to the deep black and red hues of the house of the dragon; anyone who was anyone was in attendance for this summer's eve. Smoke and the smells of spoils of barbecued boar and deer filled the air, spilt wine and blood-soaked deep into the ground beneath their feet.
And all of this, was to celebrate the wedding of your younger sister, the Lady Myranda Arryn, to her golden Lannister Lion of a husband.
You were the second daughter of the Lord of the Vale, and much to your parent’s despair, the only remaining daughter unmarried; the Lady Robyn Arryn. You had been overlooked almost all of your life, the short one with mousy brown hair and a face you had been told was 'fair but plain' on more than one occasion. When you had been lined up to greet the crowds of prospective Lord's your father had hoped to wed you to, yours was a face they often forgot.
Whilst your sisters had spent their opening seasons being dragged onto the dance floors of halls all over Westeros, you had often remained on the sidelines, slipping out as early as possible to peruse the vast libraries of the great houses you had been so lucky to visit. You still remembered the day you visited the libraries of the Red Keep after the wedding of King Viserys and Alicent Hightower. Even at the innocent age of five it had left a great impression on your mind and soul.
Ever since, your heart had ached to read every book you could get your hands on, to visit the great citadel at Hightower and to seek out the secrets of the magical world around you. The smell of an old library full of scrolls and parchment was your idea of home, of heaven… yet here you were sitting in a muggy tent at an ungodly hour, pretending to seem impressed when your new golden-haired brother-in-law brandishes the pike he'd used to gut the very boar you were eating.
You can hardly hide the distaste on your face as he shoves the pike into his squire’s hands and takes a long swig from an obnoxiously large tankard of ale, with a bejewelled lions head on the side, before pulling your sister onto his lap to stick his tongue down her throat.
With a snivelling sneer he proclaimed out loud, "I do not know what a finer conquest is, the boar I stuck this morn, or the falcon I'm going to stick tonight!"
The room explodes with the sounds of the laughter of drunken men, slamming their glasses on tables and cheering on the young lion who currently had his hand up your younger sister’s skirt.
You could hardly stand it, the disrespect, the brazen attitude of it all. Memories of your sister's childhood rush through your mind, her love of the great romantic knights, tales of gentle touches, roses and chivalry… none of which were present in this tent, at this lavish wedding party. Bile raised in your throat as a deep-seated anger filled your body, and you stand up suddenly to speak, the throw pillows underneath you falling to the ground.
Before you can spit out your vitriol, you feel a large hand on your shoulder. It was your father. He pulls you to the side pressing a goblet of wine into your hands, whispering harshly to you over bards playing the Rains of Castamere. You swore they'd already played it at least five times this eve.
"Robyn. You will do well to remember yourself. The Lannisters are family now. You should be proud of your young sister. Tis’ a good match."
You barely get to open your mouth in protest when you notice your father’s eyes flash to someone across the room, and before you know it, his hand is pressed to your back, guiding you towards a crooked old man who must have been at least twice your age.
"Lord Royce! Have you met my fair Daughter, Lady Robyn?"
Lord Royce looks you up and down with a disgusting glint in his eye, licking his lips to catch the wine he'd almost poured down his chin just a second before. You see he has a few teeth missing, and a slight shaking in the hand clutching at his wine.
"I do believe we have; I was present at her christening in the Sept of Baelor. My, how she has grown. A Lady now indeed." He drawls, slurring his words.
Your father gives him a tight smile and gestures between you both drunkenly, before shooting you a glare and all but shoving you towards the older man, "Well then, you will have much to talk about and catch up on! Mayhap a dance on this joyous of occasions?"
"Father, I-" There was no time to express your displeasure, for Lord Royce had already dragged you to the centre of the tent, his gnarled hand wrapped around yours in a vice grip and his ringed fingers digging into your skin painfully. He spun you around in time with the other dancers, his hand lingering on your waist for all too longer than necessary at every opportunity. The smell of his breath was pungent and rotten as he leaned forward to whisper into your ear.
"To think I have not laid eyes on you since you were a babe." Lord Royce's hand slips down your waist to your hip and further still to squeeze at the soft swell of your behind with a wicked chuckle. "You are a babe no longer it seems…"
A soft yelp escapes your throat, your eyes wide with shock and fear. No one had even noticed you shriek, the music too loud, the flow of wine too heady, the heat of the night all too great. You wretch your body away from him in distaste.
"My Lord, forgive me but you forget your manners! Touch me again and I will summon my sword."
A cruel grin spreads across his face, his missing teeth giving a lispy rasp to his voice as he suppresses his own laughter. "It makes no difference to me, I am afraid. Your sword is soon to be my sword, my dear. Tis' already decided. We had best practice our dances, for soon we will be dancing at our very own wedding feast."
A cold chill runs down your spine as the reality of the situation hits you like a bucket of ice-cold water. Father planned to marry you to Lord Royce. He needed to secure his Bannerman. You were the last unmarried daughter. It was two birds with one stone.
You stumble backwards, almost tripping on a discarded tankard on the floor of the tent, shaking your head over and over. It couldn't be true. Surely Father wouldn't be so heartless? Your vision tunnels as your feet carry you away hastily out of the tent and into the humid summer air, all to the sound of Lord Royce's cruel laughter.
Your slippered feet ache as you run away, disoriented and panting, tears streaming down your face. Shakily you grab a black discarded cape hung on the back of a chair, shrouding yourself and running as fast as you can through the hunt.
Colours of the great houses flash you by, the white falcon, the rich gold and reds of the lion, the silver wolf, all passing over you in a blur… and when you finally stop, you've ran so far you had hardly noticed the colours had turned black as night, with the blood red sigil of the three-headed dragon flying lazily upon banners in the dull summer's breeze.
You were no longer in the Lion's den; you'd wandered somewhere far more frightening… straight into the Dragon's hoard. Only your father, sister and her new husband had been allowed into the royal tents, to present themselves to the good King Viserys. If they caught you here alone and unchaperoned your reputation would be ruined.
With shaking hands, you wrap the dirty cloak around your shoulders tighter to hide the rich azure blue of your dress, as you creep away from the large tents and towards the woods at the outskirts of the camp. It was either you brave the dangers of the wood for the night, or return to the clutches of Lord Royce.
With a heavy heart you plunge deeper into the darkness of the woods. Settling upon a tree stump beside a small creek, your gaze falls upon your once silver slippers, now ruined and caked in mud. There was once a time when you would have cared about such a thing, but now all you could feel was numbness in your soul which made your whole body cold. Your hands were tied and there was nowhere to run. Life was not a beautiful song, or a romantic tale of heroes and great loves. You break into a sob, burying your face into your hands, heaving breaths leaving your chest.
You had done well to get away without an arranged marriage for this long. At the age of twenty-five you had come to be considered an old maid amongst the court. Now, gone was the age of innocence, and the dreams that you might one day experience true love.
*Crack*
The silence of the wood and the night air was broken by the snapping of twigs underfoot, as slowly from the distance two figures emerged from the brush. Your body freezes as you see the sigil on their breastplates. A shower of pebbles upon an orange square. It was two knights sworn to the House Royce. They saunter over to you smirking, as you scurry off the stump to lean against a great oak trunk protectively. The larger of the two men places his hand to lean just above your head, peering down at you with a smirk.
"Looks like a little falcon chick has lost her way."
You shake your head nervously, paling as you realise that you are so deep into the woods that no one would hear you scream. No matter how hard you try.
"No- No, I'm not lost. I-"
They share a look between them, reeking of ale and blood.
"I think this little falcon chick looks thirsty. I think we should take her for a cup of ale, don't you? Lord Royce wouldn't mind."
His eyes flicker to yours with a glassy look, he was drunk, they both were. And you'd heard stories of what drunk men like him did to women like you.
"No, no thank you. My sister will be expecting me."
They lean closer still, the smaller one getting so close you can feel the heat of his body towering over you.
"She's pretty cute for a little falcon chick. How old are you, anyway? You live up in the big castle, dontcha?" He tries to grab at your wrist, but you wrestle it away violently.
"Leave me alone!"
The taller man chuckled darkly, shooting a derisive look at the shorter knight, "You see? Your big old beard always scares off the pretty girls."
"So? I'd say she's even cuter when she's scared, don't you think?"
You decide your only chance is to run. You'd never outrun them, but you had to try. Blood starts pumping through your veins, the adrenaline hitting you as you get ready to sprint, but as soon as you try to retreat away your back hits something hard and warm… and a slender hand places itself gently on your shoulder.
A deep voice speaks down into your ear, tickling warmly at the soft skin of your neck.
"There you are sweetheart, sorry I'm late. I was looking everywhere for you."
The two men stand up straighter ready to fight with their hands upon the hilts of their broadswords.
"Hey- can you not see that we're busy here? Lord Royce wants her back in one piece."
The cloaked man behind you grips your shoulder tighter still, almost protectively. The only part of him visible to you is the curling of his lips, which seemed to twitch at the knight's words uneasily. The deep voice behind you lets out a dark chuckle before he brandishes a large sword with a black hilt, shining in the moonlight… Valyrian steel.
"Are you really? It looked to me that the two of you were just leaving."
At the sight of Valyrian steel the two men cower and shift themselves quickly, bowing at the mystery man and sprinting off into the dark of the wood. Slowly the tall man takes down his hood, and the first thing that strikes you is the glinting of long silver hair in the moonlight… and a single lilac eye searching yours.
It was him, Prince Aemond Targaryen. Aemond One-Eye.
He reaches up ever so gently to take down the hood of your dirtied cloak, his finger brushing your cheek tentatively as he does so before he takes your hand in his and bows down to kiss the back of it with the ghost of a touch of his lips.
"Lady Robyn Arryn. My apologies for not finding you sooner. Where to? I will be your escort this evening."
Words fail you as he continues to hold your hand in his like it was made of porcelain. He almost has to bend down to speak to you he was so tall and imposing, yet there's a deep kindness in his eye that has you transfixed. You'd never met him, but you'd heard the stories. He was quiet and cruel. Studious. A loner through and through. And a demon with a sword.
"Prince Aemond- I-" you try to courtesy, but he continues to hold your hand firmly, shaking his head and chuckling.
"That won't be necessary. Now tell me, where do you wish to go? You must be desperate to brave the woods all on your own." He almost whispers as he speaks, his words delicate and falling off his tongue like the sweetest honey.
You decide to tell the truth, you had no choice, he was the prince, and… he was startlingly handsome in a way that made your chest ache and your fingers itch.
"Please, my Prince, if you would escort me home? I- I cannot go back to the camp. I must not. My father- the Lord of the Vale, he wishes to marry me to Lord Royce the Elder and-"
Suddenly he lifts his hand to quiet you and surveys your surroundings, his sharp jawline prominent and strong against the night. He drops your hand in favour of wrapping his arm protectively around your shoulders, cradling you to his side and walking you both swiftly forward, as his silver hair tickles you at the collar of your low-cut dress.
"Don't be alarmed, but we’re being followed by more of his men. Just act normal."
Aemond is so close you can smell him. He was still wearing his riding leathers from the hunt, smelling like sweat, ash and the damp night air in a way that was all too intoxicating. There's something else there too, something smoky that you can't quite put your finger on. Aemond's touch was different from any other man that had placed their hands on you. He felt safe, warm, inviting and oh so protective of you.
You steal a look at his face in the moonlight as you walk and find he's far more beautiful than the stories give him credit for. It was true what they said that Targaryen's were closer to gods than men, for the beautiful creature next to you could hardly even be human. His profile was enough to make you ache with desire in a way no man had ever produced in you.
*Snap*
Another twig cracked underfoot. Aemond's face dipped down once again close to yours to whisper into your ear, watching your face carefully.
"More of Royce's men. It would appear I am to become involved in a scandal." Aemond sighs and growls slightly in annoyance. His hand releases your shoulder and slides down, enveloping your own in a strong grip. "Now, when I say run, run, ok?"
Further twigs start to snap underfoot behind you, the sound of chainmail in the distance now impossible to ignore.
"This way. Run!" He whispers, pulling you along with him.
His long legs pelt into the ground, his cloak billowing behind him, and his silver hair shining like starlight under the full moon. It's a challenge keeping up with him, his legs are so much longer than yours, but he never let's go for even a moment. All of a sudden you're pulled into a large opening in the woods and a strange burning smell fills your nose… as you’re brought face to face with the largest dragon in the world. Vhagar.
“Wha- Prince Aemond!? What are you suggesting? You can’t be serious!” Your feet dig into the ground as you pull against him, but this only makes him grin wider and chuckle darkly. The rational part of your brain tells you he’s insane, that the stories were indeed true and that you should scream… but then a flicker of wonder appeared in your mind, the very same flicker you felt when you stood in the library in the Red Keep all those years ago.
There in front of you in the flesh was a real dragon, over 150 years old. And beside her, a silver-haired, Targaryen prince. This is it; you think to yourself. All those books you had read, all those stories of old, stories of good triumphing over evil… here was your chance to live it.
“Oh, I’m deadly serious. You do want to go home, do you not? The Eyrie is situated on the top of a mountain, as I recall. Vhagar and I can have you home and in bed safe and sound in mere moments...” He teases excitedly, before his voice and face drops to a more serious and soft tone, his long index finger coming up to raise your chin to look him directly into his eye.
“… Can you trust me?”
The sounds of shouting and swords leaving their hilts echo behind you. Your eyes shift from his striking face down to his hand as he reaches it out to you invitingly. Inhaling a deep breath and closing your eyes for a moment, you utter out an answer grasping his hand in yours.
“Yes. I trust you.”
A small smile you almost miss etches itself onto his face before he leads you swiftly over to the old dragon, pulling on a large black leather coat and passing you his dark hooded cloak.
“You will need the extra layer, my Lady. Now... May I lift you? You will need to climb up to the saddle, and I fear we do not have much time.”
A deep pink blush covers your cheeks at the thought of his strong arms carrying you. There is barely any time to squeak out a small ‘yes’ before Aemond is grasping you at the waist and thrusting you up onto the ropes leading up to Vhagar’s saddle. His hands are so large on your body that they almost encompass your middle section completely. Aemond follows closely behind, catching you a few times to steady you as your foot misses the gaps in the ropes clumsily.
You pull yourself up with a strength you never knew you had, settling into the saddle nervously. You could feel Vhagar breathing underneath you, feel her stretching out at the command of Aemond who was shouting out words in a tongue you’d never heard before. Of course… he was speaking High Valyrian.
“Rȳbagon naejot nyke, Vhagar. Heed ñuha udra.” Ready yourself, Vhagar. Heed my words.
Aemond all but jumps up to the saddle, and with a heavy thud he settles himself behind you. When he scoots forwards to grab at the chains hanging at your side, an even deeper blush covers your face and neck, heat pooling in your stomach. The hard plane of his chest presses against your back, the top of his thighs nudging the underside of your own, now bare as you straddle the seat.
“My apologies, Lady Robyn, but I must strap us to the saddle, and you to me lest we fall.” He laughs softly as he feels you tense against him in fear. “But we won’t, I promise you. I’d never let any harm come to you.”
With deft hands he ties the chains across your lap and his, wrapping a rope around your waist to secure you to him. All at once it hits you just how crazy the situation had become.
“Prince Aemond… I’m frightened! Please, let me off! I can’t do this!”
Aemond leans forward to grab for the reins, his arms tight either side of you, and his chin just above your ear. With hushed tones, he stops you, whispering into your ear.
“Yes. Yes, you can. You are of the Vale. You are of the sky. You and I are made of the same… We own the skies, little Falcon.”
Determination fills you, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You had to do whatever it takes. You would make your own destiny. You would make it out of here. You place your hands on the reigns next to his, so small and delicate next to his large strong fists.
“That’s my girl…” He murmurs, and you swear you can feel the crinkle of his smile against your hair before he shouts out to Vhagar.
“Vhagar, ñuha jorrāelagon, urnēptre īlva se nūmāzma hen speed!” Vhagar, my love, show us the meaning of speed!
Aemond places his hand over yours suddenly on the rope, making your heart surge.
“Hold on!”
With a deep rumble, the ground shakes, it feels like the Earth is turning when Vhagar moves to stand on her haunches. Already you are above the trees, and she had not even taken off yet. Vhagar lets out a deep roar stretching her neck into the sky, the screams of Lord Royce’s men in the woods beneath echoing around her as they scramble to run away. She stretches out her wings beating them and like a hurricane they ascend into the night sky.
The forests fade beneath you, deep greens become soft pillowy whites as you soar into the clouds together. After a short while Vhagar’s wings extend, bringing you to a slow glide just above the clouds.
“Now, straighten your posture against me… and see, you’re flying!”
A rich and infectious laugh leaves his throat as the wind surrounds you. The careful pins and ties in your hair are long forgotten, your hair now cascading behind you, flying free.
You can’t help it, you’re not sure if it’s the euphoria of the dragon flight, the drama of the night, or the way Aemond had wrapped himself around you so, but soon you’re laughing with him, exclaiming out loud in a way that was hardly lady-like.
“See? My dear, you are a natural!”
“Prince Aemond, this is incredible! Vhagar, she is magnificent!”
“Se dōna riña thinks iksā gevie, Vhagar!” The sweet girl thinks you are beautiful, Vhagar! Aemond releases a deep belly laugh, slapping the side of Vhagar’s neck fondly.
With a shaking roar, a shooting of flames and sparks spit from Vhagar’s mouth.
He cranes his neck to look at you closely, a warm smile gracing his cat-like lips. “I think she likes you, Lady Robyn! Why don’t you tell her yourself!”
“I am thoroughly impressed, Vhagar! You are a first-class dragon; I adore your spark!” You shout to the ancient dragon as loud as you can against the rushing winds, almost as if you were praising a rather large scaly cat. The rumble that leaves her jaws sounds like a purr, almost the same way her master was chuckling behind you.
Beneath you the clouds become a mismatch of greens and multicoloured tents as you approach the grounds of the Eyrie. From up here you could see the ancient castle in all its beauty. Situated in the Mountains of the Moon and surrounded by cotton clouds, at this height it almost seemed small, like a child’s playset. The waterfall, Alyssa’s tears cascaded down the side of the Giant’s Lance, reflecting off the marble walls of High Hall.
“It’s beautiful… It’s gorgeous, Aemond! It’s like a dream…” For the first time in years, you feel truly alive, and it’s all because of him.
With a whoosh of her wings, Vhagar descends towards the castle and the Maiden’s Tower and it hits you that Aemond really meant what he’d said about having you home and in bed before you knew it.
“Prince Aemond… You’re not- You don’t expect me to climb through the window?!”
A snickering laugh escapes him as he presses his head against yours. You swear for a moment you can feel him smelling your hair, the thought making your thighs clench.
“Of course not. I intend to carry you through the window.”
“What?!” You utter before he shouts over your protests to his Dragon.
“Konīr Vhagar, tegun īlva!” There Vhagar! Land us.
Vhagar’s wings billow out behind her, as she hovers down, clutching to the mountainside and the tower, bringing you level with the balcony of your chambers.
Quietly and ever so gently, he undoes the chains around you both, and the soft rope securing you to his front. Aemond swings his legs to the side, and clambers down the ropes at Vhagar’s large neck. There’s a confident look in his eyes and a glint of warmth as he reaches his arms out towards you, one leg propped up onto the edge of the balcony.
“Come down with me… I promise I’ll catch you. Vhagar already loves you, she’ll be still.”
You take a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling before you climb down slowly and turn to face the Prince. His words from earlier echo in your mind… Trust me.
And you did. Without any hesitation you jump from the ropes and into the warm, strong arms of Aemond Targaryen. He cradles you to him in a bridal carry, strong legs pushing you forward through the balcony doors to place you down softly on the chaise lounge next to your fireplace.
A thousand thoughts run through your head as he lingers closely to you, laying you down gently. Aemond’s lilac eye searches yours intensely, his hand still resting beneath your neck, caressing the soft hairs at the nape.
“My lady… Robyn… you were spectacular tonight,” He swallows softly as his gaze slides down to your slim neck and collarbones, whispering your house words to himself as much as you in wonder, “As High as Honor.”
Slowly, he leans forward, staring at your bottom lip passionately. Your eyes flutter shut, your eyelashes batting against your cheek. With a gentle caress of your hair, he presses the tenderest of kisses, the only kiss you’d ever had, to your lips.
It lasted but a moment, but you knew it would stay with you forever.
Aemond pulls away gingerly, his silver hair tickling your chest. Like a knight from a storybook, he stands up tall and bows, taking your hand in his to kiss at the back of it with unearthly grace.
“… My lady, do not leave your room, keep the door locked… I will return to you soon.”
He moves to leave quickly, the sound of Vhagar rumbling outside the balcony doors. Before he can clamber over the side of the fencing you find the courage to stop him, calling from your room.
“Aemond! Aemond wait… Where are you going?”
With a flick of his silver hair, he throws a radiant smile to you over his shoulder, his lilac eye shining in the moonlight.
“To see my father. You will not be wed to Lord Royce… And I plan to fly with you till the end of my days.”
#ewan mitchell#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen x reader#hotd fanfic#howl's moving castle#hotd fanfiction#aemond one eye#fics by me
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transcript:
a prayer to an empty font
every day you learn the lie anew, a noise knock knocking
in your chest, a moth green-brown and helpless in the
warmness of your ribs, a flutter on your tongue, a flinch of
wafer swallowed down with knock knock knock, your ribs
locked tight, wings flap against the gun cocked here you
learn, his fingers in your hair, long fingers warm, sun-
browned and holy soft, held to your head, held to your
mouth, a noise upon your lips, the lie that lies behind your
teeth, knock knocking, green and brown and swallowed
down with holy wine to flood the ribs and drown the
flutter-wing of moth and mouth and mother Mary,
mother may I, lay my head upon the ground, all green and
brown, and where you found your open ribs like bony
fingers reaching for the sky, knock knocking on the pearly
gates, shut tight, you wait and bite your flapping tongue
with bloody teeth, wing slick with knock knock knocking
on your broken-finger ribs, red-brown, and every day
you learn to lie anew
#declanedit#Declan Lynch#TRC#TDT#the Raven Cycle#the Dreamer Trilogy#fics by me#in a manner of speaking#poems by me#poetry#prose poetry#favorites of mine
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Just to put it somewhere, I have a few fics on AO3:
Summary:
Little A-Ying's parents died, leaving him alone on the streets of Yiling. He soon finds a friend in a young and crippled homeless man nicknamed Old Feng, who tells him tales of a Scrap-Collecting Immortal. The four-year-old takes to sharing his meals with Old Feng, and after some time starts to build a little shrine to the god, to whom he prays daily. The young man helps him cultivate to the point that little A-Ying formed a core at the tender age of five. The routine of the two gets disrupted when an old friend from Old Feng's past comes to talk with them.
Summary:
Going out of seclusion is not easy. But sometimes a disruption of the routine and the cuteness of a small child can help with taking a step in the right direction as Lan Xichen found out.
Summary:
The juniors stumble in the Burial Mounds of the past after a mishap in Wei Wuxian's workshop. It changes a lot of things, for a lot of people.
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abedison take on the abed is brad trope
so um yeah I wrote a new fic... it's not actually that dirty but the poll people said so!
blurb:
Maybe she let to many things go to easily. But how was she supposed to know that adopting a business name and slightly changing career paths was that big of a deal? He said it was just temporary at first to build up his resume so people would take him more seriously. And surely everyone acts a bit differently at work, right?
But now It's years later, and he's slipping, slipping, slipping out of her reach. Which would be his decision, but it hardly feels like him anymore.
word count: 1237
#fanfic#community#community show#community tv#community nbc#nbc community#abedison#annie edison#abed nadir#fanfiction#abed nadir is brad bakshi#writers on tumblr#fics by me
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chapter 7 (? 8? i can’t remember lol) is out y’all!!!
#ao3 fanfic#fics by me#come read my fic lol#demon slayer#demon slayer nezuko#demon tanjirou#all i see is sunlight#art by op#kamado nezuko#kamado tanjiro#kimetsu no yaiba
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EVERY SINGLE DAY there are MILLIONS of characters in their late 20s who get falsely accused of being father figures to teenagers when in reality the description of "weird older cousin" or "step-sibling that moved out before you were born" is 1000000x more apt
#talk tag#IT KILLS ME. REIGEN IS NOT MOB'S DAD. HE HAS A DAD. INGO IS NOT AKARI'S DAD. PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD CAN ANYONE HEAR ME#(not even necessarily to say that ingo is in his late 20s but still)#(even if he was a 30-40-50 year old no matter how old he is no fucking teenager is gonna call some guy they met as a 15 year old ''dad'')#GAI IS NOT A FATHER FIGURE TO ROCK LEE HE WAS LIKE 13 WHEN HE WAS BORN! PLEASE!!!!!!!!#one time i saw that a person wrote a fic where mario was like a father figure to luigi.#they are TWIN BROTHERS.#not what this about but idk where else i can say anything about this.#just horrible#also sometimes someone is just An Older Friend like no familial relationship just a friend or acquaintance who is a lot older than you
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