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huramuna · 5 months

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selkie's song - chapter 1.

night's watch aemond x wildling shapeshifter ofc work is 18+, minors do not interact, lest ye be smited.

this is wholly inspired by @lonelymagpies depiction of Night's Watch Aemond. please go check out their beautiful work here!

i am also partial to selkies bc irish 🤭 i'm going to take some liberties with wildling lore since we don't know too too much about them and mix some of my own heritage into it (indigenous american and irish) , which i feel would meld really well.

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word count: 2.2k

content: smut (eventually, specifics will be under the cut of chapters with it), enemies to lovers, canon typical violence, canon divergence, ofc is a menace to Aemond and he kind of likes it

who is she? - I MONSTER • dead! - my chemical romance

The blood of the dragon runs hot and thick, pulsing through Targaryen veins like molten lava. His mother always snuggled him as a child, citing him as her own personal furnace.

If only that would come in handy now. Aemond thought he knew cold, way up in the skies, skimming the clouds upon Vhagar’s back, feeling the chill away from the heat of the earth. A frigid autumn breeze going through his window, causing him to bundle up in two blankets— although he usually kicked them off sometime during the night.

But this— this was cold. Ball freezing, bone chilling, blue lipped cold. He was stuck up in the ass of the North, stationed at the wall, dressed all in black. He puffed up the collar of his cloak, trying to find some respite from the gales of glacial air.

“Saddle up, Targaryen,” the lord commander grunted. He was a broad man, some disgraced Northman who rose his way up the ranks of the Night’s watch. Aemond could hardly remember his name, “We’re goin’ beyond the wall. Scouts said wildlings gettin’ too close.”

“Mm.” Aemond grumbled in response, not wanting to waste his energy talking to the ogre of a man when it could be better used for warmth.

The stable boy, no older than nine name days, tugged his palfrey to him, “I’ve got ‘em all tacked up for ya, prince.”

“Oy, Ryam,” the lord commander snapped. Lord Ennard Fir, that was the commander’s name, “He ain’t no prince anymore, so stop callin’ him as such. He’s just one of us now, eh? A man in black.”

Ryam nodded slowly, handing the reins to Aemond. The boy’s face was tinged red as he puffed air into his cupped hands, trying to keep warm. He was a boy from the south, just like Aemond— a butcher’s bastard boy, Ryam Waters. He had accompanied the now scorned prince on his ride up the Kingsroad. He reminded Aemond greatly of Daeron.

“Stay warm, boy,” Aemond said, giving the youngster a stiff nod of his head, “Take the fur from my bed, it’ll help.”

Ryam puffed out his chest, “Uh huh, your grace,” he giggled, speaking the title in secret.

It almost made a smile come to Aemond’s lips. Almost. He tried to remember the last time he smiled– it was on that fateful day near Storm’s End, over Shipbreaker’s bay. He was taunting Lucerys, finally being the stronger one, the one who had control. He laughed and smiled like a madman, chasing his nephew on his puny hatchling of a dragon. He felt like a god.

Then Vhagar snapped her jaws, ignoring Aemond’s commands. The sickening crunch of Lucerys Velaryon and his dragon still lived in his mind. It played in his dreams, making them into nightmares. He constantly woke up in a cold sweat, muttering, “It was an accident, it was an accident, I didn’t mean it.”

His eye began to ache and he clenched his jaw as he mounted his horse. Glancing around, he saw that five other men were joining him. He tugged his hood up slightly before his hand rested on his blade. He donned two weapons; a standard issue castle-steel short sword, and the Catspaw blade. He had watched his father carry it for years, he watched his mother brandish it in his name and cut Rhaenyra— and now it was his.

Not by precedent or bestowment, he actually stole it. When he was being sent to take the black, he pilfered it from Daemon’s chambers. The old fucker already had one ancestral blade, he didn’t need two. It was the only thing he had left of home, besides the sapphire in his socket and his eyepatch. It was gorgeous crafted Valyrian steel and he always kept it on his person.

His thumb grazed over the ruby gem on the hilt of the dagger absentmindedly as they descended on their journey, spurring their horses further across the threshold of the wall. Lord Fir was at the front, with Aemond holding up the back in their procession of ingrates and outcasts.

If he told his younger self that he was to be lumped in with bastards, thieves, rapers and ne’er-do-wells, he would’ve laughed in his own face. It was a ridiculous notion for a Targaryen prince to be even entertaining the idea. And yet, here he was. Living it out.

He wondered what his mother was doing currently. Had she taken Helaena and Aegon to Oldtown with the children? Did she stay in the Red Keep to be squashed under Rhaenyra’s heel?

“Aemond Targaryen, you stand before Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, protector of the realm,” Ser Westerling had shouted, “You stand accused of treason, conspiracy to commit usurpation, and nepoticide. You murdered Lucerys Velaryon in cold blood above the skies of Shipbreaker Bay.”

Aemond had been in chains, his face haggard and stubbled from not being able to shave. They stripped him of his eyepatch and sapphire at the hearing, sending him down to his knees with his barren eye socket to behold.

“How do you plead to these charges?” Ser Harrold asked.

Aemond said nothing.

Rhaenyra sat upon the Iron Throne, tapping her finger incessantly against the metal, “Brother. I’ve granted you the courtesy of allowing a hearing to your… crimes, rather than simply sending you to the block. Mayhaps I was too lenient on my decision to let you say your piece.”

Aemond still said nothing, looking down at the ground. He heard his mother shuffling near him, off to the side in the throne room, murmuring something hurriedly to someone.

“I have nothing to say. Lucerys is dead— nothing I can say will bring him back or undo what’s been done.” he finally grit out, his voice hoarse from disuse.

“So, you have no objection to being punished for your crimes? The crime of Kinslaying is the most cursed,” Rhaenyra said, leaning forward, “Mayhaps I will grant you a death by dragon— I would honor you the same way you so graciously honored Lucerys, hm? Mayhaps have Syrax and Caraxes rip you limb from limb and scatter your parts over Blackwater Bay.”

Aemond didn’t respond.

“Y-your grace,” Alicent spoke up, walking to Aemond and standing in front of him, “Please, have mercy upon him. Your son wouldn’t have wanted this—“

“DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME WHAT MY SON WOULD’VE WANTED,” Rhaenyra bellowed, standing up from her seat, “Your son took away his ability to want anything, and for that there should be repercussions! A son for a son.”

“Rhaenyra, please,” Alicent murmured, “Please, I can’t lose him— it… it was an accident. Aemond, tell her it was an accident!”

He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to admit their family’s greatest fear was true; they did not have complete control over their dragons.

Rhaenyra gazed at Aemond’s pained expression, then at Alicent, “He will be punished. But I would not become a Kinslayer— I do not wish to be as accursed as you, brother,” she strode back to the throne, twisting the rings on her fingers, “He will take the black and be sent to the wall. He will have no titles, no land, no wife or children. He will have nothing for the rest of his life except for the Night’s Watch.”

Alicent was stunned, as was Aemond. He wondered if he would’ve preferred death.

“In addition,” Rhaenyra continued, “His claim to his dragon, Vhagar, will be severed. He will undergo the Valyrian ceremony for it.”

“You can’t,” Aemond growled, “You can’t!” he panicked— Vhagar had been the only thing he ever achieved in his life, truly. He lost his eye for her.

“Take him back to his cell and prepare him for the ride up the Kingsroad.” she said with finality, looking down at her hand as she sat back on the throne.

Aemond saw— she had been pricked by the throne, blood beading at the tip of her finger.

Mayhaps there are still small mercies in this world.

A particularly strong gust of cold air snapped him back to reality, his hand still itching over his dagger. They reached the thick treeline that stretched out for miles, their horses trudging through the snow.

They were at least ten miles out from the wall now, the Seven Kingdoms left truly well behind them. A small river trickled near them and Aemond saw the shadows of fish— large ones at that.

He had been in the Night’s Watch for at least seven moons now, and this was his first expedition outside of the wall. It felt like a whole different world— a world without laws, without political duty, without fights of succession over a throne made of swords— there was something freeing about being here. It was only a remnant of what he felt soaring the skies on Vhagar, but it would have to do.

The wind whistled through the branches of the trees, fresh snow beginning to fall. He heard a fly buzzing near his ear. No, that couldn’t be right. Surely there weren’t flies in the cold?

It wasn’t right— another fly whizzed past him, sticking into the man in front of him. Those were the arrows.

“Ambush! Wildlings!” Lord Fir shouted, reeling in his horse.

Aemond went to unsheathe his sword when his horse went haywire, rearing up on its hind legs. “Lykiri, lykiri!” Be calm, be calm. He shouted at the horse, tugging at the reins as the wildlings descended upon them. He felt like he was above Storm’s End once more, screaming for Vhagar to heed his commands—

His horse bucked him off, sending him tumbling into a deep snow drift. He dropped his sword somewhere aside— his hand immediately went to his waist, gripping around the Catspaw dagger.

A breath of relief washed over him as he rolled and hid behind a tree, unsheathing the dagger. He twirled it around, waiting for someone, anyone to cross his path.

He then felt the cool pressure of a blade against his throat.

“Don’t move, crow,” a voice said. It was almost diminutive, soft in tone— but it was threatening all the same, “I don’t need to paint the snow red with your blood just yet. Drop the dagger.”

Begrudgingly, he dropped the Valyrian steel into the snow.

“Now turn around, slowly. Keep your hands out.”

He turned around, expecting to see an ugly wildling in his gaze. He had only heard the tales of them, that they were more ugly than not.

His breath caught in his throat as he looked upon her— she was small, much smaller than he, her skin somewhat pale and cool toned, freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. It was her eyes that caught him— one was a deep, rich brown, and the other was a light blue, with fragments and shards of brown in it, like a mountain against a clear sky. Her hair, dark chocolate brown with one streak of white in it, was tied into a haphazard braid. She wore earrings made of the lower jaw of some small mammal, inlaid with opals. She was holding a dragonglass dagger to his throat, the hilt of it carved from a deer’s antler, encrusted with a matching moonstone.

She wore a long, white coat— it looked to be the skin of some animal, but Aemond couldn’t tell which. It was spotted and fluffed.

His brow narrowed as he noticed that she was soaking wet, dripping water from her nose and hair, the sheen of moisture shining from her skin.

He could only imagine how astonished he looked staring at her— but she stared back at him in the same manner, her eyes wide. She had huge eyes, Gods be good.

“Fucking hell, you’ve got a purple eye.” she murmured.

“You should see my other eye.”

A harsh crack across his face— she had slapped him, “Don’t be a pig.”

Aemond blinked profusely, “By the Seven— I meant my actual other eye,” he grunted, “May I?” he gestured to his eyepatch.

“… better be worth it, crow.” she murmured, nodding slowly.

He lifted his eyepatch off, revealing the sapphire underneath.

Her lips were slightly agape as she ogled at him, “You’re a fancy crow, aren’t you?”

“Hm.” he grumbled.

She retrieved the Catspaw dagger from the ground, stowing it at her hip, “I’ll be keepin’ this for right now.”

“Aren’t you going to kill me?” he asked, perplexed as to why he wasn’t dead yet.

“Not yet— you got interesting eyes, I wanna show my papa,” she retrieved a leather cord from her belt and wrapped it keenly around his wrists, “Caught myself a crow.” she hummed, seemingly entertained with herself.

Aemond rolled his eye, letting her hoist him up into a standing position. He towered over her, to which she didn’t seem too bothered about.

She led him past the battle, which was now over. He saw three of his Night’s Watch brothers slain, and it looks like two others had run off like cravens, including Lord Commander Fir.

“Where are you taking me?”

“My tribe,” she replied, stringing him along.

“Your… tribe,” he repeated, “And what is your name?”

“Euna. And you, crow?”

“Aemond.”

#aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x fem!reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #my writing #selkie's song

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rwrbficrecs · 3 months

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First monthly faves for 2024 !! ❤️

Leave a message by @sherryvalli (book-verse)

@dot524: In the mood for some cute, heart-melting fluff? This is a one-shot that recounts Alex’s voicemail messages over the years from those who care about him - including Henry.

would you be my love, my love? (would you be mine) by ohprongs (book-verse)

@wilmonsfolklore: a strictly come dancing AU with a lot of feelings that I've been thinking about ever since i read it!!!

even though we know it isn't true by @matherines (book-verse)

@wilmonsfolklore: for everyone struggling with academic pressure, or anyone, really. it's pretty sad but of course there's comfort personified in Henry!!

beyond infatuation, how obsessively i adore you by @waterloolovers (book-verse)

@wilmonsfolklore: a new fandom classic if you ask me. Henry works at the daycare Alex's daughter goes to and their relationship progresses really naturally. the kid content in this fic is some of the cutest i have ever read and this is the perfect fic to go on your reread list for comfort.

And They Were Roommates by @14carrotghoul (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Alex and Henry get to know themselves and each other after they move in together. This story is not sugarcoated at all, very realistic - just how life is, and so so sweet. Also, unfortunately, rather short, but still worth the read - as are many other stories by this author, such as the 'Las flores' series.

Spirit of the Season by @pridepages (book-verse)

@heybuddy-drabbles: A little late to the game but I finally read E.J's Christmas story. Her way of story telling doesn't disappoint in this shorter tale (by her standards). It's not lighthearted and it touches some difficult topics (mostly canon) but it's all worth it because of the way they fall in love through Christmas Eve/night. Can't recommend it enough!

Where There Are Octobers by @iboatedhere (book-verse)

@na-dineee: 31 short chapters that are just really fun to read! Some are post-canon or canon-compliant, others are AUs - but in all of them the characters are so beautifully drawn, true to how we know and love them! A vet AU, a hospital AU, major fluff, even an X-Files AU - and who knows, maybe one or two dribbles will turn into more?! Fingers crossed!

The Art of Losing by bigfishbigpond (book-verse)

@dot524: If you think the mid-story breakup should have been longer and more angsty, here’s the story for you. An interesting and heartfelt story of what Henry and Alex are like apart, and what pulls them back together.

I know that you hate me (Do you though?) by @arand0mdutchgirl (book-verse)

@magnificentandcoolfez: A bit of good ADHD angst (with some comfort ofc). I like the focus on how hard adhd can be and it's a short and good read for those who like comfort that comes in the shape of your crush holding you until you feel grounded again.

blushing ears and beating hearts by @kill8a (book-verse)

@na-dineee: This story is not just slow burn, it is glacial burn. It's an college AU, set in New York, and so slow, so tender, so fluffy - after reading it I was floating on cloud 9 for quite a while. I don't know if you feel the same way, but it's funny how changing one given variable somehow changes the whole dynamic between the two of them. Or is it just me?! Either way, it's so wholesome to tag along as their love blossoms, I still feel so hugged and cared for.

all so human with our guards down by @maxbegone (book-verse)

@myheartalivewrites: a post-apocalyptic story that is unlike any other. There are no zombies or gore, but instead it focuses on rebuilding and the softest love growing between Alex and Henry, surrounded by family and friends. I kinda wanted to live there by the end of it.

The Snow Prince by @orchidscript (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: several fairy tale tropes meet to create this absolutely amazing story. It has dreaminess of a fable, best kind of yearning of your favourite slow burn fics and a little bit of adventure of a fantasy novel.

but to say that I'm a rainbow, to tell me that I'm bright (when I'm so used to feeling wrong, well, it helps me feel alright.) by What_Is_A_Mild_Opinion (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: Fandom is really sleeping on this one! This story is a canon rewrite with characters reimagined as creatures with animal characteristics. The wordbuilding is so fantastic that even if you are not a fan of long fics following canon step by step, it's absolutely worth to check this even for a chapter or two and get to know these wonderful versions of Alex and Henry. (Alex is literally rainbow.)

safe with me / more than I ever (in a thousand years)by @indomitable-love (book-verse)

@na-dineee: I think the author is very well known among all rwrb fanfic readers. I really, really liked these two stories, like a lot: Two 5+1 fics, one from Pez's point of view, the other from Bea's - unfortunately both characters are given too little attention in the book imho. As expected, both narrators are sharply observing, protective of Henry, loving, honest, tender - and you end up loving Henry (and Alex) even more.

check out our past Monthly Faves here ❤️

#monthly faves #rwrb fic recs #firstprince #firstprince fic recs

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elryuse · 22 days

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How about a princess!wonyoung x butler!reader, where the wonyoung always gets reader's time even on holidays and never letting him leave?

My Personal Butler

Yandere Princess Wonyoung X Butler Reader

Wonyoung, a princess sculpted from pure porcelain and icy disdain, lounged on her chaise lounge, her crimson gown pooling around her like a spilled sunset. Boredom clung to her like a suffocating fog. The gilded cage of the palace, once a playground of privilege, now felt like a gilded prison.

"Y/n," she drawled, her voice flat and emotionless. Y/n, her butler, materialized from the corner of the room like a phantom, his youthful face betraying none of the weariness that gnawed at him. Two years younger than Wonyoung, he had been gifted to her like a prized possession – a living plaything for her boundless ennui.

"Yes, Princess?" Y/n bowed, his voice a low murmur.

"I'm dreadfully bored," Wonyoung announced, her eyes glinting with a cruel amusement. "Entertain me."

For the next hour, Y/n became her jester, her acrobat, her unwilling confidante. He was forced to recite Shakespeare in a cockney accent, juggle lit candles while blindfolded, and translate a forgotten language he didn't understand. Through it all, Wonyoung watched with impassive amusement, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

This was their life, a cruel dance of master and servant. Y/n, the ever-obliging puppet, Wonyoung, the capricious puppeteer. But a single night shattered the rhythm of their dance.

A royal decree arrived, announcing Wonyoung's betrothal to a pompous prince from a neighboring kingdom. Wonyoung, her face a mask of cold fury, slammed the parchment onto the table. "Marry him? Marry that… buffoon?"

Y/n, taken aback by the raw emotion in her voice, stammered, "But Princess, surely…"

"Surely nothing!" Wonyoung snapped, her eyes locking onto his. "He's dull, Y/n. As dull as this gilded cage! I won't be a pawn in their political games."

For the first time, Y/n saw a flicker of vulnerability in her icy gaze. It was a fleeting glimpse, quickly extinguished by a steely resolve. Yet, it sparked a change within Wonyoung. Her focus shifted from mere amusement to a chilling possessiveness.

Wonyoung's demands became more frequent, even on his days off. "Clean the entire library by tomorrow," she'd say, her voice devoid of warmth. "Research ancient poisons in a language you don't understand – quickly."

Y/n, initially accommodating, began to see the underlying current – an obsessive need for his constant presence. He tried to reason with her, to explain his exhaustion, but his words were met with a glacial silence or a cruel smile that sent shivers down his spine.

Desperate, he attempted escape. Under the cloak of a moonless night, he scaled the palace walls, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. But freedom was a cruel illusion. The next morning, he found himself back in Wonyoung's chambers, a cold smile twisting her lips.

"Leaving me, Y/n?" she purred, her voice like velvet-wrapped steel. In her hand, she held a parchment, a personal contract with an ornate wax seal.

"This," she explained, her voice devoid of emotion, "ensures you'll never leave my side. A lifetime contract, wouldn't you say? You'll be my constant companion, my confidante, my… entertainment."

Y/n's blood ran cold. He scanned the contract, the legalese a blur of servitude. Trapped. He was trapped forever in the gilded cage with a love that was as cold and beautiful as the princess who held him captive.

Wonyoung leaned closer, her eyes glinting with a chilling possessiveness. "Now," she whispered, her voice a caress, "tell me another story, Y/n. Do make it a long one. After all, we have an eternity together."

Y/n, his hands shaking, opened his mouth to speak. He knew escape was no longer an option. But a new resolve hardened within him. He would survive this gilded prison, navigate the treacherous currents of Wonyoung's twisted love. Perhaps, someday, he might even find a way to melt the ice around her heart. Or maybe, he was destined to be her plaything forever, a prisoner in a gilded cage ruled by a love as beautiful as it was terrifying.

Life in the gilded cage took on a suffocating new rhythm. Y/n, bound by the ironclad contract, became Wonyoung's constant shadow. He followed her through endless court functions, her silent guardian, a living secret kept close to her heart.

"Smile, Y/n," Wonyoung hissed one evening, her voice laced with a dangerous edge. They were at a particularly lavish ball, a gathering of nobles where Wonyoung, despite her disdain, had to maintain a facade of regal amusement.

Y/n forced a smile onto his face, the muscles in his cheeks screaming in protest. "Is something wrong, Princess?" he dared to ask, his voice barely a murmur above the clinking of glasses and boisterous laughter.

Wonyoung's eyes narrowed. "Everything is wrong," she spat, her voice barely a whisper. "These courtly buffoons, their vapid conversations, the suffocating expectations… I hate them all."

Y/n swallowed hard, the weight of her words heavy in the air. He understood her frustration, the gilded cage felt like a prison for him too. But unlike Wonyoung, he couldn't lash out, couldn't break free.

"Perhaps," he ventured, his voice cautious, "we could… take a walk in the palace gardens later? Get some fresh air?"

Wonyoung's gaze softened for a fleeting moment, a flicker of something akin to gratitude in her icy eyes. "Perhaps," she conceded, her lips curling into a small, almost hesitant smile.

Later that night, beneath the cloak of a star-dusted sky, they walked in silence. The scent of jasmine and night-blooming lilies filled the air, a stark contrast to the stifling opulence of the palace.

"You know," Wonyoung said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper, "you're the only one here who truly listens. The others… they only see the princess, the symbol. They don't see Wonyoung."

Y/n stopped, turning to face her. The moonlight cast an ethereal glow on her face, highlighting the vulnerability that peeked through the cracks of her icy demeanor.

"I see you, Princess," he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet sincerity. "I see the boredom, the frustration, the loneliness."

A single tear traced a path down Wonyoung's cheek, a shimmering testament to the emotions she usually kept buried deep. She quickly brushed it away, her voice hardening.

"Don't pity me, Y/n," she snapped, a flicker of her old imperiousness returning. "I am a princess. I am strong."

Y/n shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Strength doesn't mean the absence of tears, Princess. It means letting yourself feel them, then rising above them."

Their eyes locked, a silent conversation passing between them. In that moment, Y/n wasn't just a servant, and Wonyoung wasn't just a princess. They were two souls trapped in a gilded cage, finding solace in each other's company.

The silence stretched, filled with a new kind of tension. Wonyoung leaned forward, her breath warm against his cheek. "Tell me a story, Y/n," she whispered, her voice softer than he'd ever heard it. "A story about a world beyond these gilded walls, a world where love isn't a cage."

Y/n, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs, began to weave a tale. He spoke of faraway lands, of breathtaking landscapes, and of love stories that defied societal boundaries. As he spoke, Wonyoung's eyes drifted closed, a peaceful expression settling on her face.

He wasn't sure if he was telling the story for her or for himself. Maybe, in the quiet intimacy of the moonlit garden, a seed of hope had been planted. A hope that even in the confines of their gilded cage, a love as twisted and beautiful as theirs could somehow bloom. But the future remained uncertain, a melody yet to be played in the gilded cage's chilling song.

#wonyoung #ive wonyoung #jang wonyoung #ive starship #yandere x reader #yandere roleplay #yandere stories #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #sexy content #beautiful #update #yandere

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 2 years

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Have You No Idea That You’re In Deep? [Chapter 1: Moonstone]

Aemond is a fearless, enigmatic prince and the most renowned dragonrider of the Greens. You are a (newly widowed) daughter of House Mormont and a lady-in-waiting to Princess Helaena. You can’t ignore each other, even though you probably should. In fact, you might have found a love worth killing for.

This series begins approximately 1 year before the events of Season 1, Episode 8.

Song inspiration: ��Do I Wanna Know?” by Arctic Monkeys.

Chapter warnings: Language, truly unhinged flirting, low-level witchcraft, mentions of death and violence, some sexual references.

Word count: 3k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

He changes every room he walks into; he drags your eyes to him like the sea swallows anchors.

You’re lacing up the back of Helaena’s gown—a rose gold color, free-flowing and feminine and delicate, just like she is—when the prince enters her chambers. You know it’s him without needing to look; you would recognize the rhythm of his steps anywhere. It’s a terribly intimate thing to know about a person you’ve never properly spoken to.

“Aemond!” Helaena chirps, beaming, opening her arms to embrace him.

With abruptly shaky, ungainly hands, you rush to finish lacing the dress and then retreat to the other side of the room. You busy yourself with reorganizing Helaena’s vanity as she climbs onto her tiptoes to throw her arms around Aemond’s neck. He is not one for sentimental displays of affection, but he tolerates this for her sake. He has a soft spot for her. When you steal a glimpse of them, Aemond’s glacial blue eye lands on you and then darts away.

“Come, brother, sit with me,” Helaena says excitedly, pointing to her table surrounded by four chairs. Aemond yanks one out and plunks down, swinging his boots up onto the table. He has positioned himself so that you are standing on his good side, so that he could watch you if he wanted to. Surely this is a coincidence. “How was your sparring with Sir Criston?”

“Satisfactory. How are the insects?”

“Oh, let me tell you!” Helaena produces a large wire cage from under the table. Aemond smirks as if he’s trying to figure out how life brought him to this moment. You have been Helaena’s lady-in-waiting for a full month now, and her younger brother is a constant fixture of her routine. At first, he appeared about once a day; now, it’s at least thrice. Sometimes he materializes for seemingly no reason at all, makes a few unurgent inquiries, does a lap or two around the room, and then leaves as unceremoniously as he arrived. Now, he listens politely as Helaena describes each tiny captive creature to him in excruciating detail: the beetles, the crickets, the butterflies, the saintly praying mantis. Once or twice, Aemond seems to glance over at you. It’s hard to tell for sure because you’re committing your full faculties to not staring at him. It is sort of working. You tug at the moonstone pendant you always wear—the one your mother gave you—trying to distract yourself.

“Lady Mormont,” Helaena says. Now she has the praying mantis in her hands and is letting it creep back and forth across her knuckles. “Is there any wine?”

You bring the pitcher to the table and fill two jeweled cups with a sleek, dark, red liquid like blood.

“Thank you, my love!” Helaena trills as you serve her first. She grasps the massive cup with both hands like a child. You aren’t sure how Hightower and Targaryen flesh melded to create something as blameless and benign as Helaena, but you’re certainly glad that they did.

You offer the prince his cup while peering demurely down at the table, determined not to look at him, petrified that once you begin you’ll never be able to stop. He doesn’t take it. You wait, and wait, and wait, holding the cup in midair. Helaena slurps her wine, breaking the laden silence. At last, your eyes meet Aemond’s; and sure enough, then you’re trapped there. It’s only a second or two, but it feels like a lifetime. He’s so beautiful it hurts, it quarries empty places into your bones that scream to be filled. The prince smiles victoriously and plucks the cup from your hand.

“And one for you too, I think,” he says in his low, commanding voice.

“For me?”

“Yes, you.” He takes a swig of his wine and pulls out the chair on his good side. Helaena watches, half-amused and half-puzzled. The praying mantis is now perched on her shoulder, pondering the scene with bulging, unnerving green eyes.

You pour yourself a cup and sit reluctantly beside Aemond. He studies you like you’re a painting or a sculpture or a tapestry, taking in every line and shadow. In truth, it is not ordinarily in your nature to be reserved; you are a Mormont, you were raised to be bold and courageous and self-reliant. It is something you’ve always been proud of. It is the reason why Queen Alicent thought you’d make an excellent companion for Helaena. And yet…here with the prince…you aren’t sure what he wants from you. You so desperately don’t want to disappoint him.

“I know you,” he says at last. In the meantime, Helaena has fetched a deck of playing cards. The praying mantis is still hovering vigilantly on her shoulder. “You’re Lady Y/N Mormont. But that’s what everyone calls you. That’s what my dear sister and my mother and all the people of the court call you.” He gestures with his cup, like he’s referring to the entire world outside of this exchange, this moment. “What am I going to call you?” He considers this…and then his eye flicks down to your pendant. “Moonstone,” he decides. His gaze is mischievous, baiting. And immediately, you realize what he wants. This is sparring, just with words instead of blades. He is giving you permission to be bold. He is giving you permission to be exactly who you are.

“And what shall I call you?” you reply. “Lanky Boy? Eyepatch? Silver Hair?”

Helaena covers her mouth with her hand and winces. No one ever mentions the prince’s maiming in his presence…although you’ve heard plenty of people mutter about ‘Aemond One-Eye’ behind his back. Miraculously, he is not offended. “Just Silver,” he says with a sly, crooked smile. “It’s sharper, it’s cleaner. It could be the name of a sword.”

“See, this is why you frighten people. Because you say deranged things like that.”

“Do I frighten you?”

“No,” you say honestly. He doesn’t. Sometimes it frightens you how much you want him, but that’s all.

Aemond seems to like this. His smile becomes a grin, toothy like a dragon’s. “Come. Play cards with us.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Oh, please, won’t you play?” Helaena pleads. “It’s so much better with three. Three is a number of power.”

“There, it’s decided, you cannot refuse your lady,” the prince says. He deals out the cards with precise, powerful hands. “Tell me, Moonstone, how did you come to King’s Landing? You were married to some Hightower, were you not? Some distant relation. Very distant. Practically a nobody.”

You nod as you collect your cards and plot your next move. “I married Axel Hightower almost exactly one year ago. My father arranged it, he and Axel’s father had met while fighting in the Stepstones as young men and kept up correspondence.”

“Yet this was an ill-fated union, I gather. How did your husband die?”

“He was leading a trade mission and his ship sank in the Sunset Sea, gods rest his soul.”

“My condolences. How tragic. And not even a body to lay to rest?”

“The currents are terribly rough there. They found a few pieces of the wreckage and that’s all.”

“Do you still mourn him?” Aemond asks, and observes you with particular interest.

You debate this for a while before you answer. “I…regret that he lost his life and that his family is deprived of his company. But I wouldn’t say that ours was any great love story.”

“But you did fuck him,” Aemond says. Helaena blanches and gapes at him, scandalized. He shows the palm of his right hand in contrition. “Forgive me.”

You are delighted to prove that you aren’t rattled by his question. “Of course, as was required.”

“And did you find pleasure in it? He wasn’t a brute to you, was he?”

“Not a brute,” you say. “There was some pleasure in it.” You smile roguishly at the prince. For once, he seems caught off-guard; he doesn’t know where you’re going with this. “Not as much pleasure as I might have found with a different sort of man, perhaps.”

“Hm.” The prince shifts in his chair and clears his throat. “No children?”

“None,” you agree softly. This is a bit of a sore subject; to be married for nearly a year without conceiving does not bode well for your ability to bear children, a prerequisite for most advantageous marriages.

The prince pivots. “So he bored you, this Axel Hightower. He couldn’t keep up with you.”

“He was pleasant enough. We spoke about the weather and the price of wheat, things like that. Though I did quite enjoy cheering for him during tourneys.”

“Tourneys!” Aemond groans.

Helaena giggles. “He hates tourneys. Though he’d have wicked luck if he ever tried them.”

“They’re frivolous. They’re for cowards who can’t prove themselves in a real battle.” The prince lays down his cards on the table. You and Helaena follow suit. When he sees yours, his mouth falls open. “What…?”

“Not used to losing, Silver?” you tease.

He laughs, incredulous, immeasurably pleased, his eye glinting. He seizes all the cards and reshuffles them. “So you weren’t in a hurry to return to Bear Island after your husband’s untimely death? Well, who could blame you.”

“My father didn’t want me back.”

The prince’s brow furrows as he deals out the cards. “That seems unlikely.”

“He has eight other children and a brand new wife who’s my age to keep him occupied. He’s barely aware of my existence these days, I assure you.”

“I’m sorry,” Aemond says gently.

“Don’t be. It’s not him I miss, nor Bear Island. There’s nothing for me there anymore. My mother…” Fleetingly, instinctively, you clasp your pendant and then drop it. “She died six months ago. In childbirth. They lost the baby too.” You feel your throat tightening, burning…and then you compose yourself. The prince is watching you intently. “After Axel died, his father wrote to his cousin the queen and asked if she had any use for me, and she thought I’d make a fine lady-in-waiting because…well, you know…” You nod subtly to Helaena.

“Because you’re a Mormont,” the prince says, strangely proud. “Because you’re steady and tough and pragmatic and worldly.” Everything my sister is not, he means.

“Exactly.” Wine is sipped. Cards slip from one hand to another. Helaena’s praying mantis is now on top of her head, stepping carefully over her snow-white hair. The servants come in to light the fireplace for the evening and then vanish again, but not before casting wide-eyed, wary stares at the prince. He mystifies them. He terrifies them.

“And so you find yourself here, in our service,” Aemond muses, passing you a card. “Can I ask you just one more impolite question?”

“You can ask her anything,” Helaena murmurs dreamily, and you both turn to her. The praying mantis bobs idiotically on her head. You hate her insects, though you try not to show it.

“Yes,” you tell the prince when you recover.

“What do you think of my loathsome half-sister Rhaenyra Targaryen, plotting her life away up in Dragonstone?”

You ponder your cards. “I feel sorry for her. That she is so maligned, that King Viserys’ affection for her has brought her so much hardship and acrimony and judgement. But she is the king’s choice. There is no denying it.”

Aemond is disappointed in you. “Her heirs are bastards.”

“Of course they are. Everyone knows they are.”

“And yet you don’t find that to be disqualifying?”

“I don’t think it really matters,” you confess. “The king chose Alicent Hightowner as his mate and companion—despite her distinct lack of silver hair or affinity for dragons—and yet their children are no less Targaryens. If Rhaenyra chose Harwin Strong, what is the difference? Her children are equals to you. They are half-Targaryen and half-not. And as far as I can understand it, their right to the Iron Throne passes uninterrupted through their mother.”

“So you support the Blacks and believe Rhaenyra should sit the Iron Throne.”

“No,” you reply simply, and that’s the truth.

“Why?” the prince asks, searching your face. “Because you still feel some helpless, blind allegiance to my mother’s house? Is it really as banal as that?” Are YOU as banal as that, he means.

You shake your head. “I don’t think the nobility would ever accept Rhaenyra. I don’t think the common people would either. Thus she can be no true queen.”

Now the edges of his lips curl into a ghostly, luring smile. “To challenge her claim would mean war.”

“War resulting from this particular dilemma, I fear, is inevitable.”

“And this doesn’t horrify you? Doesn’t make your blood run cold?”

“No,” you answer. “Battle purifies us, it renews us, just like fire. The worthy will survive.”

He looks at you for a long time before he speaks, the only sound the crackling of the fireplace. “This is dangerous, Moonstone. You are beginning to intrigue me.”

“Just beginning?”

The chamber door flings open and Aegon staggers inside. He has dark racoonish rings around his eyes and his hair is in disarray and he is obviously, pathetically drunk. “There you are!” he cries when he sees his brother. He leans against a marble column so he doesn’t fall over. “Mother is looking for you. She says you are supposed to dine together tonight. She wants to discuss a Baratheon marriage…or was it a Lannister marriage? Some sort of marriage, that’s for sure. To a woman. A human woman. A very wealthy and well-connected human woman.”

Aemond sighs as he places his cards on the table face-down. “Yes, it’s always about a Baratheon or Lannister marriage. Or an Arryn marriage. Or a Stark marriage.”

“Well, hello there, Lady Mormont!” Aegon says, noticing you for the first time. He waves from where he is propped against the column. You bow your head civilly in reply. You’ve heard plenty of gossip about Aegon since arriving in King’s Landing, although he’s never done more to you than make a few unsavory jests. You rebuffed them as rudely as you dared to.

Aemond’s eye scans the two of you and then narrows. “Does he bother you?”

“Hardly,” Aegon objects. “When I bite, she bites back.” He snaps at the air like a rabid dog.

Aemond chuckles. “As she should.” He stands. “Don’t clear the table,” he orders you with mock sternness. “I’ll return after dinner. We have our own little tourney to finish here. I’m coming back.”

“As you wish,” you say, realizing that you miss him already.

When he passes the column where his brother stands, Aemond halts. “You will not harass her,” he says darkly. His hand rests on the hilt of his sword. He towers above Aegon, dwarfing him.

“I certainly won’t,” Aemon hastily agrees. He appraises you, gives you a nod of approval—of acceptance—and spins around to follow Aemond out of the room, lurching and grabbing for walls to steady himself against.

“Now, back in the cage, my love,” Helaena informs her praying mantis as if it were an unruly child. She unlatches the miniature metal door and places the creature inside with the other six-legged captives. Then she asks you: “Is it too warm in here? I know we Targaryens like it hot. But you’re from the North. Perhaps you are sweltering. Perhaps I am torturing you.”

“No, I like the heat as well.” In truth, you’ve been too preoccupied to notice it.

“Good, that’s good. Because there is a great deal of fire in your future.”

You startle. Her words hit you like a fist, like lightning. A cold sweat breaks out on your skin; a shudder claws its way up the rungs of your spine.

But when you ask Helaena what she means, she doesn’t remember saying it at all.

~~~~~~~~~~

Long after nightfall—after Aemond wins two card games and you both conspire to let Helaena win the last, after the prince retires to his own chambers, after you fetch the princess’s nightgown and brush her long white hair and accompanied her to say goodnight to her children, after the Red Keep has fallen quiet under the rising full moon—you sneak unnoticed out of the castle and into the godswood. You take only a small bundle of items with you: a candle, a piece of flint, a dagger with a hilt shaped like the roaring bear of House Mormont, other secrets as well. You walk until you find the heart tree, where the Old Gods can hear you even here, so far from the wild North.

You don’t know if you truly believe in magic, but it makes you feel close to your mother. She gave you these spells, and she gave you knowledge of the Old Gods, in the same way that she gave you the moonstone pendant strung around your neck.

You place the candle—vivid red, the color of passion and willfulness and fire and blood—on an exposed, ancient root of the heart tree and light it by striking flint against the dagger blade. Then you wait until melted wax drips down the candle and seals it to the root. With the small dancing flame, you burn three things to ash: the feather of a dove, the petal of a red rose, and a tiny piece of parchment with two words written on it in red ink: Moonstone, Silver.

“I don’t ask for him to want me,” you murmur to the nameless Old Gods. “I don’t ask to change his heart. His heart is his own. But if…if he does want me…in the same way that I want him…” You close your eyes and clasp your hands together in prayer. The night wind tears through your hair. In the starlit quiet, you can hear the distant rumbles and screams of dragons. “Let us find a way.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd imagine #hotd #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond imagine

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ultralightpoe · 2 years

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And Let the Blood Bind You- Aemond Targaryen

Authors Note: I reallllllllyyyyyy hope you guys enjoy this one..........

Word Count: 4667

Warnings: abuse, suicidal thoughts, murder, smut, Aemond

Description: Aemond won’t let you marry an old man

Part One here: Salt the earth behind you

The dinner, that was planned for the queen to get to know your betrothed better, had been postponed for two days now. Due to the queen falling ill, a fact you knew to be false for she had been just fine to call you in and sit with her in the mornings.

Just as you did today, the third day in a row.

You sat just as you had the days before, across from her, head laid low as you stitched quietly. The veil you wore covering your boredness well.

“My lady,” You begin quietly, her head snapping up instantly. Something you had noticed the past couple days was no matter what she was doing she never seemed to be paying attention to it. Instead she watched around her, fearful and distraught. “I was going to inquire about dinner. It has been a couple nights and I fear my betrothed wishes to return home soon-”

“We shall see to it when I feel better.” She admonishes, not meeting your eye. Not that she could through the veil, but whenever she lied she refused to look at you at all.

“I just noticed that you are in high spirits today, so I was-” You are cut off by the sound of her door barging open, hands shaking as the anxiety eased. You were about to prompt her whether or not she was sick, how foolish of you. She could have your head.

“Mother,-” The sound of Aemonds voice has your anxiety leaping once more, refusing to turn.

“Aemond. How many times have we discussed entering a room properly?” Alicent sighs, allowing you to risk a look at the male who seems to be embarrassed.

“Helaena wishes to see you.” He states, a bite to his tone. As if he was irritated that he was getting yelled at even though he is here on his sisters business. “A problem with the babe she fears.”

Alicent looks shocked a moment before standing and turning to you, a skeptical look. “My dearest Y/n, I must-”

“Please. Go attend to your family.” You say softly, trying not to sound as irritated as you felt. “I can make my way back to my roo-”

“Aemond.” She interrupts, her son stepping closer instantly. “I insist you take Lady Y/n for a walk around the gardens. Helaenas health issues shouldn’t be the reason she locks herself up.”

You always appreciated the way the queen gave backhanded remarks, making the person feel foolish without inciting a fight.

You watch as she leaves, her personal guard following her, at a glacial pace you note.

“Lady Y/n-” Aemond begins though you stand up quickly and he silences himself.

“Your mother is far from a good actor. I should not recommend her to the plays in the village.” You snipe, moving to walk with him.

“What could you possibly mean?”

“If there were an actual issue with your sister's babe you would be a lot meaner, and she would be a lot quicker.” You remark, pretending not to see his outstretched hand as you pass him to the door. “Though I do appreciate you both trying to play me for a fool.”

“Aemond…..dearest.” The queen says faintly, casting a look to your small figure before avoiding your eyes. “I am feeling faint and Helaena has lessons this afternoon, would you be so kind as to take Lady Y/n around on a walk?”

Aemond was quick to jump up, nodding his head as he bid his mother goodbye. You watched in utter embarrassment as she giggled with her guard and left. Oh how foolish the queen must have thought her, to have such a big love for her son that she pretended to be ill so you may spend time with him.

And how foolish you felt at his mother having to be ill for him to notice you.

“I heard the septa received a bundle of books from Dorne this morn, would you like to go see?” Aemond offers, walking beside you.

“I do not wish to waste your time Prince Aemond.” You say softly, although you definitely did. You wished to spend time with him every single day. “If you are too busy I can simpl-”

“Don’t be foolish. I wish to find a book on dragons while I am there.” He mumbles quickly, snatching your hand and holding it tightly.

He held your hand all through the library as you searched for something to read, finally settling on an old historic book about the first king of the world. You settle onto the floors of the library and open the book, him settling right beside you. “I thought you were going to find your book-”

“It’ll still be here later, won’t it?” He laughs and settles his head on your lap, staring up at you with gleaming purple eyes. “I like when you read to me anyways. No matter how boring the book is. Besides, my mother didn’t fake an illness for me just to abandon you in the books.”

You blush, fearing that he was making fun. “I’m sorry-”

“What are YOU sorry for?” He laughs, reaching up to open the book. “Now tell me all about this old man.”

You both walked in silence, your hands pinned to your stomach as you stared blankly ahead, the silence beginning to eat at your anxiousness.

He walks beside you, bumping your shoulder with his own every once in awhile, though you could not tell if it was accidental or not.

“So you were always aware when she faked an illness growing up?” He finally stops the silence, pretending to be really interested in the courtyard below. He circles one of his ringers between his fingers, an anxious tell of his. “Here I was thinking we were quite brilliant…”

You catch that wording quite quickly, confusion crossing you as you try and put two and two together. “Should you mean-”

“That I asked my mother to fake a handful of illnesses to spend time with you?” He chuckles, avoiding your gaze. “Never.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” You murmur, and he looks to you once more, standing straighter.

“And you’re prettier without that fucking cloth covering your face.” He snipes, reaching forward to snatch it.

You lean back before he can and slap his hand away, moving further into the hall so no one would see the two of you. “I wear it out of respect for my betr-”

“So no one will try to steal you away?”

“So he doesn’t have to look upon my plainess!” You snap, heat filling your body.

Aemond watches you with a stillness, eye narrowing a bit and you are quick to try and amend the situation. “I’m sorry if I offended you, My Prince. I should fix my tone next time-”

Then, faster than you can register, he is snatching the veil off of your head with a victorious smile. You panic and rush to grab it, only for him to snatch your arm and spin you until your back was to the wall and he was in front of you.

“This is indecent- If anyone were to see-” You rush, heat filling your body as you try to push him away.

“Don’t tell me, you’re afraid your grandfather won’t want to marry you anymore?” He laughs and you fill your eyes well with tears. He bites his lip while he watches you, head tilting as he awaits your response. But nothing comes, and he looks utterly disappointed. “I made a vow to you……long ago….do you remember?”

“You made many vows-” You begin, trying to escape from his hold once more before he grabs your chin softly.

“I vowed we would find you someone that isn’t two steps from death-”

“I’m out of options.” You admonish, pushing him off of you and rushing off.

Your first week back home was filled with tears, a fact your father didn’t really appreciate.

“YOU PLAIN FOOL!” He screamed, his hands whipping across your face making you fall to the floor. “You’ve ruined everything!”

“I TRIED!” You sobbed, hand coming up to stop the blood pouring from your nose. “I swear it-”

“You ran away like a coward!”

“HE SAID I WAS A FUCKTOY!” The second those words leave your mouth your father is snatching your throat, the air being cut off completely as he tightens his hold. You tried scratching at his arm but his hold stayed, tears pouring from your eyes as you fought.

“If the fucking prince wanted to make you his fucktoy then you should have just shut your mouth. It’s what your mother did.” He sneers before dropping you on the floor. “Once people find out the queen sent you back no one will want you. No. One.”

Your fathers words had been truth that day.

Once you came back home you were looked down upon, the ward the queen couldn’t fix. The ward even the queen could not marry off.

It took you years. You dropped the books, dropped the weight even though you were starving all the time. You began braiding your hair up instead of the braids you saw the Targaryens often wore, and you even learned to stay quiet. Just as your mother had done.

Now you sat across from a man willing to marry you, after years of trying to find someone you managed to find him. So why were you so disgusted?

You tried imagining kids with this man, how you would love them even if their father was a pig. But you couldn’t imagine one. You could only imagine jumping from a window just as Aemond said. That thought brought tears to your eyes as you tried ignoring the man.

“What happened to your veil? Why am I having to watch you cry?” Verlain snaps, slamming his glass down as he stands.

“I’m sorry my lord- I shall go find anoth-” You move to stand and go find another veil, but his hand clamps around your throat as you do, shoving you back down.

Fear claims you as you cry out, trying to shove him off you. He presses down on your throat while leaning in. “I’m beginning to lose my patience-”

He’s whipped off you in an instant and you fall to the ground trying to regain your breath. Your gasping roughly as your vision spots, hands clenched to your dress.

“Lady Y/n.” Someone calls, moving to get to your level. You see a white cape and a white beard fill your vision as the person grabs your shoulders gently. “Lady Y/n, are you alright?”

“I-I’m fine.” You wheeze, hand gripping onto his armor. “I just need a moment.”

“I was sent to come get you-” Ser Harrold says softly, scooping his arms under yours to help you up. You risk a glance to your right, finding your betrothed standing there angrily, glaring. “I will take you to the queen.”

“No. No I should stay here with-”

“I apologize, my lady.” He sighs, “It was not a question.”

“Do you realize what we could do if I had a dragon?” Aemond asks, excitement filling his tone as he holds the wooden sword against yours. He had demanded you learn to sword fight with him while his mother thought you were speaking with Helaena like a good young lady.

Your friend used this time to collect bugs while her brother trained you.

“We could…. Start a fire?”

“We could runaway.” He laughs and you reel back, blushing. “We could leave so that you would never have to get married.”

“Prince Aemond-”

“Find an island and live there for the rest of our lives-”

“My prince that would never work-”

“We could marry!” He laughs and your blush deepens. “No one would ever know.”

“Why would people not know we are married?” Your heartbeat fastens as embarrassment hits. He always loved teasing you, you often wondered if he knew of your crush and liked making fun of it.

“Because they would never be able to tear us apart.” He smiles, not taking any hint of your saddened state, instead just swinging the wooden sword at you.

Ser Harrold kept an arm around you even after you insisted you were fine, his cape thrown over your shoulder to keep you warm even though the heavy furs of the winterfell fashion were already hot enough, feeling like you were about to pass out.

“Ser Harrold-” You mumble, swallowing down the urge to get sick as you got closer to the royal hallway. “I swear to you I am-”

“WHAT HAPPENED?!” Aemond roars, spotting you down the hallway and rushing forward.

His hands find your waist the second he reaches you, gripping tightly as he searches for injuries. Your own hands find themselves gripping onto his upper arms as Ser Harrold lets you go. “My prince I am fine-”

“I was sent to retrieve Lady Y/n.” Ser Harrold explains, and for a moment you think he is going to keep your secret, but the man has never been one for secrets. “I found Lord Verlain atop of her with his hands around her ne-”

“Ser Harrold exaggerates…” You lie, looking away from Aemond. The blonde begins to lead you away, walking to his room quickly and leaving the guard behind.

“This is unseemly-”

“I am not going to defile you.” He snaps as he leads you in before whirling you around and ripping at your dress.

“AEMOND!”

“YOU LOOK TWO MOMENTS AWAY FROM PASSING OUT!” He yells, ripping at the collar of the dress until it tears, revealing the bruising on your neck. Your hand flies up to stop him from seeing, embarrassment clinging to you.

“It’s not how it looks-”

“I take it that today has not been the first incident of his anger.” He snaps, taking a step back and breathing in.

“Prince-”

“Enough with the prince! It’s Aemond! You call me Aemond.” He sighs, stepping closer. “I do not wish to fight you on this-”

“Then please do not tell your mother, she will refuse the engagement-”

“I refuse the engagement-”

“You do not have that power-”

“Then I say I defiled you.” You take a large step back, eyes wild with shock as he processes his own words.

“You risk my reputation?! Do you truly hate me that much?”

“Hate you? Is that what you think? That I hate you?” He looks hurt at the thought, and that pulls a laugh from your lips.

“You proved as much the last time I saw you.”

“You never let me explain. Please just- Please give me a moment to-”

“You would tell the world you defiled me and now you want me to give you a moment to explain why you hate me-” His hands come up to grab at your jaw, you flinch back until you realize his touch is gentler than ever, moving your head to look at him.

“I will give you anything for just five minutes. Five minutes and then I will let you walk out of this room and stop prolonging this engagement to that fucking corpse. Please….” He begs, bringing your foreheads together. “I beg of you Y/n. You have done nothing but plague my mind, body and soul. I am a man possessed with no actual lifeline without you near. My lungs are filled with smoke when you do not speak to me and my heart bleeds when you are gone. Please-”

“Fine.” You whisper, clutching his own arms as you let the tears fall. “But after this you tell your mother you approve and you let me do my job.”

Aemond Targaryen never understood why people didn’t just say what they thought.

He hated when his mother made snide comments that you had to think about before understanding she was mocking you, he hated how you had to deriddle everything his sister said just to understand what she was trying to say. That’s one of the rare things he liked about his brother Aegon, how Aegon always spoke his mind and refused to be treated like an idiot.

Though Aemond didn’t realize that no females in his life absolutely hated his brother, Aemond didn’t see his mothers sickness for her eldest son.

But Aemond also didn’t realize how twisted words could be when one was angry or hurt. A dragon backed into a corner was destructive to everything near it, including itself.

He remembers your face as he angrily repeated the words his brother had said to him hours before, as he called you a fucktoy. A lowborn, boring fucktoy, to be exact.

He remembers how his lungs constricted on your first sob, and the bile that rose in his throat when pushed past him to run away.

He remembers puking on the floor, both eyes watering with tears, his left eye leaking blood with the salty drops.

He remembers being a coward for the week after, and not being able to look at you. You, the girl he had loved. You, the one who took a knife to the arm for him. The one that listened to him and let him practice kissing you when he claimed Aegon made fun of him for it.

When he finally built up the courage to apologize you were always just out of reach, running away.

He remembers throwing a fit the day his mother told him you were in a carriage going back home. He also remembers how they locked Vhagar up so he couldn’t fly to get you.

He sits you on one of the chairs in his room, kneeling before you with his hands in your lap as he talks, tears falling freely from both of you as you listen intently.

Panic claims him, fearing that you would still leave after this, after finding out what he has done. As he explains he silently begs you to just stay, looking up at your face and trying to memorize every beautiful detail he can before you disappear.

His mother says he is a monster.

She claims to hate how emotionless he has become and begs him to talk to her. She wants to fix the problem, he knows this, but how does he tell his mother he misses his childhood companion he has not seen in 2 years.

How does he tell his mother he feels empty and disgusting, that he sees your hurt expression every night before bed, hearing the words he spoke over and over until the son comes up.

Instead, he asks about you. “Have you heard from Lady Y/n?”

A look of sadness crosses his mothers face as she sits before him, realization setting in. “You can miss her, you know? It’s very common. I miss my best friend.”

“You don’t understand. I ruined it. I made her hate me.” He snaps, looking away. Her hand grabs his chin and forces his eye back to hers.

“And you think she would care for you becoming a monster? Look at your sister and I, so you want to turn out like us?”

No. The thought of hurting her again kills him.

“Think upon it, think about being the man she deserves.”

So he did.

He read the books he was sure you would like, and he learned to braid hair the way his sister always did for you. He trained Vhagar and thought of your reaction.

He also……… might have scared off any suitors you would have for years.

That was until his mother received the news of Lord Verlain.

Aemond was shocked, he hadn’t even known Verlain was meeting you as a suitor, so he had his spies send a report.

Your father had set up a hasty arrangement with the old man so that no one would argue it, planning on marrying you off before the word got out. Aemond sent his own raven the day he found out, claiming the queen wanted an audience to approve of the marriage herself.

In the week before you arrived he made his case to his mother, telling her of the lord's gambling debts and how his third wife was killed in order to pay. He told her of the second wives suicide and his anger issues.

He begged and pleaded with her. She finally ended up asking “When I say no what will she do? Her life will be ruined.”

Aemond did not hesitate in his response, telling his mother “I would marry her. If she will have me I will marry her in an instant.”

So they made a plan, she would postpone it as long as she could while he found a way to talk to you.

But then he saw you in the throne room that day, and his entire being fell. He was back to that weak boy that broke your heart, the weak boy who was so sure you didn’t love him that he refused to think of telling you how he felt.

“This….entire time…. You have been messing up my chances of-”

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, forehead landing on your knee as he clings to you. “I need you. I cannot lose you-”

“My father has already paid the dowry of the engagement, I’m to be married-”

“I will pay your father back.” Aemond states, finally looking up.

“We would have no money for your dowry. We could give you nothing.”

“I don’t want it. I don’t need it. I need you.” He smiles, leaning up until your foreheads were once again touching. “I was an angry fool-”

“Aemond, please.” You cry, hands clinging to his own that were now sitting on your jaw. “This is cruel. You do not want me, you can’t.”

“If you dare tell me you are plain, I will rip out your fathers tongue and feed it to a horse.” He snaps, drawing a laugh from you.

“There is no way of ending this engagement.” You sniffle, face blotchy from all the tears. “I am sorry but-”

“There is one way….”

Aemond Targaryen split his hand open on the great hills of westeros, allowing you to do the same before pressing the bloodied palms together and tying a cloth around the conjoined hands.

His sister stood behind as a witness as well as your maid, both watching silently as Aemond pressed some of this blood onto his thumb and smeared it on your forehead. “One flesh, one heart, one soul, bound together by the old gods and the new.”

You repeat his movements and words, leaning up to bump noses as the wind picks up. “Bound together by the old gods and the new.”

The dinner arrives the next day, as requested by the queen.

You walk in beside Aemond and allow him to pull out a seat before taking the one next to yours, a smirk upon his features as your nerves begin to set in. He reaches to hold your hand, his thumb rubbing up the scar from that night.

You look to Lord Verlain, a glare already laced onto his features as your father clears his throat. “My Queen…. I was hoping we could finally discuss my daughter's engagement.”

“It has been handled, Lord Y/L/N,” Aemond sneers, leaning forward. “We shall make sure to pay you back for her dowry-”

“I was talking to the queen.” You father snaps, confusion taking over his features.

“As my son was saying,” She sighs, glaring at the man. “The crown will pay for Y/ns dowry that you paid Lord Verlain all too quickly.”

“WHAT OF MY MARRIAGE?!” Verlain yells, standing up and slamming his fist on the table.

“My my, I think that’s the quickest I’ve seen the old man move.” Aemond snarks as both his siblings laugh, a faint laugh coming from you.

“I know what you are planning boy. And I will not have it.” He snaps, turning his sharp gaze to you. “Lady Y/n has already been taken by me. She has been-”

It’s Aemonds turn to slam his hands on the table, sneering. “Say one word about defiling my wife and I will rip out your fucking tongue.”

“Wife? By what means?” Your father snaps, hand flying to his sword.

“Yesterday, under the means of a priest and the old gods and new. We consummated last night, the priest bearing witness to Lady Y/ns chasity for we knew this old fraud would lie-”

You scream as Verlain unsheathes his sword, hand flying to grab Aemonds arm and pull him away, but your husband beat the fool to the punch and drove his own sword through his chest. He tears it out as the blood sprays before looking around the room. “Anyone else?”

He kisses your scar that night, tracing his lips up your arm and kissing each it over and over while you lay beneath him.

“My love, bleeding for me before I deserved it-”

“Oh stop. The blade barely touched me-” You begin to argue before he is leaning down to kiss you, one hand holding him up while the other tugs at the strings of the robe you were wearing.

You get embarrassed and try to hide your body, but he is having none of that, pulling your hands to your sides as he admires you. “Let me have you…. With no witnesses here this time. Let me pleasure you. Just as I have been wanting to for years.”

You don’t say anything, instead just nodding as he lowers himself down to kiss you slowly, his hand leaving yours as he moves to rub your center slowly.

His smile is evil as you moan, kissing along your jaw as he works his fingers against you before dipping them in. He spreads them out for a moment, nipping at your throat as he works, thumb rubbing your folds while his fingers begin to thrust.

You’re moaning softly, arms wrapping around his shoulders as he watches you. “Isn’t this so much better than having your husband have a stroke atop you?”

A small laugh escapes you before he speeds up his fingers, a moan replacing it. “Yes…..”

“I would have never let that happen, even if you hadn’t married me I would never let that man ruin you.” He admits watching as your breath begins to catch and your back arches, knowing you are close. “Don’t fight it, let it go.”

And you do, your eyes shut tightly as your things clench around his arm, your body shaking as you come undone on his fingers. “I’m sorry.”

He laughs, bringing his fingers up to his mouth to suck them clean, licking them as much as he can. “Why are you sorry? It’s my job….”

You look at him curiously, still shaking from your orgasm as he removes his pants, crawling between your legs. Just as you did the night before you widened your legs for him and clutched his shoulders, this time you didn’t have to feel ashamed by an old man watching from the corner.

This time Aemond didn’t feel the need to cover you from the witness, he could just simply enjoy you.

“What do you mean your job?”

He enters you slowly, lips against yours as your breath hitches, hands digging into his shoulders. “I am to be your fucktoy, Princess. That is my job.”

He takes you to the library the next morning, and then takes you against a shelf in the library, before sitting with you while you read.

He lays his head on your lap just like he used to and enjoys your presence, letting you remove his eyepatch when you’re sure no one could see either of you.

“Y/n…” He whispers, making you stop reading aloud and look down to where he is already staring up at you. “I never got to say it-”

“I love you too.” You smile, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “But I am not getting of Vhagar-”

“You haven’t even given her a chance!” He laughs.

(I really hope you enjoyed! I actually got a hateful message and have been concerned about the ending since so please tell me what you thought. I have also been debating whether or not to post the inbox message. Let me know. I also know I am better at writing angst then happy endings so if anyone has something they liked or didn’t like please let me know and I will add you to the taglist!)

AEMOND TAGLIST

@Schniiipsel

@Sluttyaemond

@Lovelynerdytraveler

@Rosaryos

@Bbyhangman

@Winxschester

@Neenieweenie

@anthonys-viscountess

@Ggglitch-exe

@Shnadaidas

@Gaisse-blog

@Dudfahsn

@Afro-hispwriter

@Ghosstbb

@Nerdy4itall

@Gawabby

@Abrielleholland

@Chevyharvelle

@Gloryekaterina

@Immyowndefender

@Ichanelvxgue

@Dangerousbluebirdpoetry

@Destroyingdestiny

@Minaxcarter

@Lawlerek

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@Shawin02

@Maplumebleue-blog-blog

@Applepyesworld

@Solacestyles

@Xinsonyax

@Crazylokonugget

@Mrswhitethornbelikov

@Yu3kkii

@Mell-bell

@Justsumtuffstuff

@Icarusignite

@Nellanottevedote

@Princessmiaelicia

@Ciaraguy9

@m1ndbrand

#aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen angst #House of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon imagine

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yanderes-galore · 1 year

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Yandere Platonic Bewilderbeast being raised from an egg by a viking woman

Sure! I still need to rewatch HTTYD but since this is not a specific Bewilderbeast, I can do a concept. I still made Darling gender neutral though as it does not change the story I don't think....

Sorry if something is OOC! Hopefully it's not, I tried to keep it vague which should work as this is a rarer species. Most of it is HC.

The dragon was given the name Boreas due to me not wanting to type Bewilderbeast a thousand times. Also, Boreas is a male Bewilderbeast. I'd love feedback :)

Yandere! Platonic! Bewilderbeast with Viking! Darling

Pairing: Platonic/Animal/Pet-Like

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Possessive behavior, Accepting mortality, Desperate dragon not wanting to lose his rider, Cryogenic freezing, Vague if darling is dead or not, Threats.

Wild Bewilderbeast on their own are rare.

There's also only been maybe two cases of tamed Bewilderbeast for one reason or another.

You may have found the egg in the arctic somewhere and decided to take it in to study.

Upon finding the egg you placed it in a safe space within your home to raise.

Not many have seen a young Bewilderbeast and the egg seemed to have no dragon looking after it.

Taking up the job you decide to study the climate needed to raise a Bewilderbeast.

Since dragons and vikings began to coexist with one another, dragon studies have been conducted.

However, Bewilderbeast barely have any research done due to their rarity.

You spent most of your time sketching out the egg during the first few months.

Your home is near glacial waters on Berk.

A decent area to raise your new dragon.

When the spiked dragon egg hatches it wakes you from your slumber.

The moment you see the young Bewilderbeast emerge, you give a smile.

The young dragon isn't that big... yet.

It was comparable to that of a pug in size.

Other vikings wonder how you plan to take care of such a dragon.

Most vikings have something smaller than... well... a Bewilderbeast.

While things may be fine now...

What will you do when it grows?

To that you say... you'll find out.

For the first part of your Bewilderbeast's maturity you keep the dragon in your house.

The smaller dragon follows you everywhere.

His favorite time is when you fish, the dragon nudging you for food.

Due to the dragon's nature you name him Boreas.

Boreas was given his name due to his love of frost lakes and the out of control freezing water he keeps blowing around.

Boreas sees you as his parent.

Even when he became the size of a great dane dog, the size where you try to train him, he lumbers around you with excitement.

You learn that most of your training with Boreas occurs in the water.

Boreas has no wings and is a tidal class dragon, leaving you to train him in swimming and hunting instead.

You have to be careful as the freezing water would harm you if you were clumsy.

When Boreas was still able to fit in your home he was reclusive towards other vikings.

His species is usually non-aggressive, but it appeared he grew territorial.

The growing beast often grunted at you to stay in your home.

You have to ease him by rubbing his face, growing tusks not yet pointed.

He had to get used to people and other dragons....

At night Boreas would either block your home's door to prevent anyone from coming in or he's sleeping in the middle of your home.

It was a pain to convince Boreas he had to start living in the water instead of your home.

He was getting too big and probably needed to start an ice nest at some point.

Many on Berk heard Boreas's roars and whines as you tried to get him used to staying in the water.

Some would complain... but your journal full of Boreas's growth was important.

After this, years passed.

Boreas grows more in the water, soon towering over many homes on Berk.

Everyone knows him as your dragon.

A young dragon prince who'll have his own kingdom some day.

Bewilderbeast have the ability to control and provide for dragons, that's why they're seen as royalty.

The unfortunate thing is... Boreas will take awhile before fully hitting adulthood.

Even with him at this size... you had aged to your 60's.

You were coming to terms with the fact you'll... die soon.

Boreas notices how distant you become when looking at him, your dragon.

You reflect in your journal on all the times you rode Boreas across the freezing waters and cared for the young beast fondly.

You stare at the nest he created from the dock.

The spiked icicles glimmer in the sunlight... a beautiful sight made by your dragon.

You smile softly before Boreas sits in front of you, body covering your view.

"Boreas." You command, the dragon staring at you expectantly. "You are aware I won't... be here anymore, right?"

The dragon doesn't entirely understand your meaning but the grim look on your face tells him enough.

The dragon makes a groaning noise before sinking into the water.

He wants you to ride him.

Softly you get onto the dragon you raised from an egg and allow Boreas to take you to his nest.

The dragon places you on a platform in his nest, allowing you to sit.

The dragon then roars softly.

"... Boreas, why did you bring me here?"

With a soft growl you realize what he means.

"Boreas, you can't- I promise I'll find a successor to be your new rider. You can't do this...!"

Boreas has a hesitant look in his eyes.

The dragon refuses to lose his rider.

You can barely defend yourself when Boreas breathes freezing water upon you.

By the time the assault ends you're cryogenically frozen to the dragon's nest.

A frozen look of fear on your face.

Berk assumes you've died due to your age.

Not many try and attempt to enter the nest of Boreas either.

Mostly because those who try to enter are met with an aggressive and territorial Boreas, the dragon with no owner threatening any with death if they try to enter.

Boreas accepts no other rider.

The Bewilderbeast decides a solitary life is all he wishes for now.

That's what many on Berk assume, at least.

In reality, Boreas has a rider.

He has one rider.

You're his rider... whom he keeps in his nest for decades in a frozen sleep.

In the dragon's mind you never left him... you're still his rider and he's still your dragon.

#yandere how to train your dragon #yandere httyd #yandere bewilderbeast #yandere dragon #yandere platonic #platonic yandere

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skzoologist · 5 months

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ʜᴇʟʟᴏ(●’◡’●)ﾉ I have a request kinda, Okay hear me out I just my signed album the other day and I got chans signature 🤯 ( I'm still in disbelief... Like is this real life 🥲) anyway its got me thinking how the boys would act. With how much they like bae how would they act to receive his autograph. I feel like since their all in the same group no one would really think about it until their signing autographs for the albums, and person A says that some Stays are gonna be lucky to receive bae's autograph and then person B is like actually I have it and starts to brag about it. Then the chaos would ensues 😈 and or something completely different 😅 but after they have it how would they act??

word count: ~1.3

warnings: none

genre: crack

a/n: Hey-ho dear, good to see you again! I was worried something happened with how you disappeared. But oh my god, congratulations on your album! I'm astounded, just, wow. 🤯 Can't imagine ever holding one in my hands, you're so lucky! I would probably freak out like a certain weasel in this request, haha. Either way, I hope you'll enjoy reading it! 😊

Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!

!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!

!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

With every release of a new album came the time for the idols to sign some of them, letting a few lucky fans get their hands on one. It had always been a fun activity for the band, having some leisure time that they could calmly spend in each others’ presence and simply chat or joke around. They would usually film it as well, or at least a part of it, eager to provide even more content to their beloved fans, showing them every single side of themselves, not just the one they showed up on the brightly lit stages.

Bae liked whenever it came to signing the albums, because with how focused most of the members became, the air around them quieted, letting the male soak in their silent presence. Don’t get him wrong, he loved them in all their loud glory, but sometimes his ears and mind needed a bit of an escape, if he wanted to retain the remains of his sanity at the very least.

The cover of one of their NOEASY albums greeted him, the black paper smooth under his slender fingers. With practised ease and carefulness, he lifted the first few pages, finding the perfect place for his signature. The black marker in his right hand rose, its mission now crystal clear. The lines formed on the hot pressed paper, touching each other at the correct places and curving into that familiar symbol he always placed into his signatures. He started implementing the little crystal star into it years ago, the fans absolutely loving it along with the other members.

Speaking of which, they had all been relatively silent as they sat in their seats, as expected. Only light chatter left their lips, a few of the answers even taking up to a minute or two to arrive. Bae merely hummed when he was dragged into the conversations, not wishing to disturb this rare moment. He even sneaked in a few glances at the others while taking a quick break, warmth dancing in his eyes as he watched them, adoration filling his entire being.

Felix once caught his gaze, breaking out in a wide smile in response and lighting up the whole room with his bright presence alone. Bae swore the room actually became brighter and it wasn’t just his eyes playing tricks on him. The quiet idol watched his little sunshine finish signing the album he’d started on and close it, the marker now left alone on the table as the male walked towards him. Not knowing what the boy’s plan was, Bae silently observed, only a small head tilt indicating his slight confusion.

It didn’t surprise him when Felix stopped behind him, tiny fingers carding through long, black strands that were dusted with a tinge of strawberry blonde at their ends. The digits were careful in their fluid movements, twisting the locks in different directions, never tangling them up or ripping even one out accidentally. The notion was so soothing that Bae couldn’t help but let out a silent sigh, eyes closed in temporary bliss.

“Aw man, the fans who get your signed albums are gonna be so lucky.” - Jisung whined out, successfully breaking Bae out of his cosy headspace and stealing his attention. “Don’t even say it, I’m jealous just by the thought itself.” - Hyunjin replied, huffing in annoyance as he glimpsed at their pouting quokka. “Yah, don’t say that, STAY will think you don’t like them!” - Chan laughed out, amused eyes now watching the scene unfold after a quick glance at the still recording camera. “We DO, but still, it’s unfair they can have Bae’s signed albums and not us!” - even Changbin hopped into this circus, making everyone roll their eyes at the ridiculousness of it all.

Felix’s giggles broke everyone’s bickering and sulking voices, garnering everyone’s attention as he just calmly continued now braiding Bae’s long hair, the strands weaving into each other and creating beautiful waves of midnight and sunset.

“You can just ask him to sign yours later, chill.” - he said, the atmosphere turning silent, as if a pane of ice had been dropped onto the ground, shattering, leaving everyone speechless in its place.

It took them a solid minute to boot back up, their system having done a quick reset. Seungmin and Jeongin just snorted meanwhile, amused by the stupidity of their hyungs. Minho wasn’t far behind, opting to silently watch it with a knowing grin.

“What do you mean?” - Jisung asked, disbelief heavily dripping from each syllable. “I mean exactly what I said? What, none of you asked Bae hyung for his signature before…?” - Felix replied, confusion clearly displayed as he tilted his head, hands stilling in the otter’s hair. “You mean, we could have asked him for it? Just like that?” - it was Changbin this time, hands firmly planted on the table, already halfway to fully standing up from his poor, knocked back chair. “...Yes? What? Don’t tell me you guys haven’t been asking him to sign all his photocards and albums?” “Felix, I am so honest when I say I love you, but I’m stealing all of them.” “What, Bin hyung NO-” “I agree. I’ll help steal them and we split them evenly.” “Sungie, you too?!?”

Bae watched the two chase Felix around, all the while Hyunjin was left freaking out in his chair, acting as if his entire soul had just left his body. Chan was shaking his head tiredly, but you could see he enjoyed it as well from the light smile dancing on his lips and the slight crease in his eyes. Minho grabbed a snack and happily munched on it, loving the show maybe a bit too much. Bae swore the man thrived on chaos, something that was both impressive and fear-inducing. The two youngest reveled in the situation the most maybe, openly laughing as Felix had been caught and held down, the quokka and dwaekki not granting him any mercy.

Not wanting to suddenly become a group of 8, the tallest member stood up with a silent sigh and a fond smile, ruffling a still dramatically unmoving weasel’s hair on his way as he walked towards the roughhousing trio.

“I’ll sign your guys’ stuff too, just let Lix go.”

The speed at which Jisung and Changbin turned towards his direction was worrying, a miracle none of them got whiplash in the first place. There was a dangerous glint in their eyes, telling of a hunger and determination that had Bae take a step back, right into someone’s chest.

“You’ll sign all my stuff first, right?” - Hyunjin’s voice brushed against his ear, toned arms circling around his waist and cutting off his only escape route.

“Hey, no fair, I want him to sign my stuff first!” “NO, MINE, I’M OLDER SO I SHOULD COME FIRST!” “DUDE, who cares, I love him more, so I come first!”

The bickering and shouting merely strengthened with each passing second, the trio at the centre of it all. Somehow amongst it all Felix and Chan joined in as well, the remaining three just watching in amusement and making sure the camera recorded every single moment from the best angle.

Amidst all that was Bae, caged in Hyunjin’s arms, forced to hear everything and be passed around like a child’s toy, everyone arguing about who loved him more. His arms hurt as they were grabbed and dragged into opposite directions, his skin flushed in embarrassment, the hue only darkening with each shouted declaration of love.

Maybe signing albums wasn’t as peaceful as he had thought before.

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shadow-is-now-sinning · 11 months

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As a Ganon fan for some time (started with twilight princess he looked so fine man) it surprises me the low quantity of fics for him (same with Bowser) at the same time there isn't a doc where thxs to magic Ganon mom's come back. Like imagine meeting twinrova and them being super excited because FINALLY their son got a s/o who doesn't care if he's victorious or not. Or even they don't care if he's in his human form or not. Please could you write a fanfic where Ganon is embarrassed by his mom's being excited over his s/o? Like it would be so fluffy

Ganondorf and Bowser seem popular but it doesn't seem like it considering you have to traverse the entire internet for mere crumbs. Took so long cause I really struggled with ideas plus writing on your phone kills your fingies.

Content: Third person pov. Gerudo Ganondorf leaning towards Twilight Prince per mention in request, Ganon calls s/o dear and beloved. Mentions of marriage. Pretty short around 500 words.

S/o: s/o is written gender neutral with they/them pronouns. No physical descriptions

As feared as Ganondorf Dragmire was, it was an immensely amusing sight to see his surrogate mothers baby the giant man. Kotake and Koume were on him the microsecond he stepped into the dwelling.

“My handsome young man,” the twin with red accents holds up her hands to the large man’s face. Similar to a grandparent squeezing their grandchild’s face to ‘see them better’

“Mother Kotake, we have a guest,” Ganondorf says, seemingly unbothered by what’s happening, moving the twins’ attention to his partner. The twins zoned in on them before looking at each other.

"Sister, I think our son has finally grown up," Kotake says, earning a huff from her son. Koume nods enthusiastically.

"Come in, Come in!" Koume guides the two further inside. The building was old, obviously just some place they chose just out of necessity. It looked well loved with rustic-worn furniture filling the space. Mystical objects and potions also filled the shelves. Along with miscellaneous creatures and substances. Ganondorf promptly guided his partner away from them, pressing lightly on their back.

Kotake waves Koume away, getting a pout from the glacial witch as she goes back to what they were doing before their son's arrival. Without prompting Ganondorf settled down, the chair creaked with protest but held up nonetheless. Sitting next to him they didn't have much time to get comfortable before Kotake offers a teacup containing something. Decidedly it wasn't tea. Ganondorf had received his own cup, miniscule in his armored hands. Looks like he's using a child's tea set Feeling his partner's eyes he looked at them with a slight tilt on his head.

"Is something the matter my dear. Are my mothers making you uncomfortable?" Ganondorf's voice carried a slight worry of the thought.

Shaking their head, Ganondorf releases a sigh of relief. Placing the now empty cup down. Kotake lingered nearby not wanting to interrupt the couple.

A few moments of silence filled the room before Koume spoke from across the room.

"So Dear, are you going to introduce your partner to your mothers?" Kotake nodded eagerly at her sister's words.

"Yes, yes, introduce them to their in-laws."

Ganondorf sighed, "We aren't yet engaged." This is why he waited so long to introduce his mothers. Koume took this time to hurry over grabbing his partner's face between her hands before her son could stop her.

"Yet, so you plan on it?" Koume says. They try to remove themselves from her grasp but she has a mean grip for an elderly woman.

"I've thought about it, Mother Koume. We haven't discussed the concept of marriage." Ganondorf relents.

"It's been ages since another monarch sat on the throne. Such a dashing pair you two would be." Kotake says with a pensive tone. The knuckle of her index finger resting on her chin.

"Come Koume we have plans to discuss," Kotake starts walking away before pausing to talk over her shoulder, "as the elder sister I will be handling wedding planning."

Koume had moved to follow a sputter in her walk at Kotake's words.

"Why I never. Lying to our son's partner. I'm the eldest by 5 minutes." Koume resta her hands on her hips and Kotake turns to give her sister a glare. Ganondorf stands holding his hand out for his partner to take.

"They are going to be a while, beloved." he says, guiding them out of the house. The twin witches squabbling louding as they did.

"So, about our marriage," they looked up at Ganondorf who refused to make eye contact.

Rest assured more Ganondorf content is coming. Headcanons and fics alike.

#legend of zelda #twilight princess #ganondorf #ganondorf dragmire #ganondorf x reader

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violettduchess · 1 year

Text

A/N: A break from all the angst! Here are the winners of the Valentine's Day Kiss Headcanon poll. And a special guest from Obsidian who slipped his way in 😘

Princes x f! reader

I wanted these to be shorter but that was not it's destiny so here we are at 2.5k words.

Happy Valentine's Day whoever reads this! Sending you all lots of love 💜

Morning: Chevalier

The morning sun has dared to reach tentative fingers through the windows of Chevalier’s bedroom. You feel the warmth caress your face and a sigh, soft as silk, escapes you. The day is calling and you know at some point you’ll have to answer. But there is a strong arm holding you tightly against a warm body, one that is curled around you, heavy with sleep. Carefully you turn under the weight of his embrace, pulling your leg out from under his. A small grunt of annoyance is all your movement elicits. Without opening his eyes, he adjusts his hold on you, pulling you close again.

This close, in the pale light of morning, with him still swimming on the edge of sleep, you have a moment to study the face you hold so dear. The almost boyish fall of his pale hair. The sharp line of his cheekbones. The perfect curve of his lips. His lashes are long, framing eyes that to you have come to be the very definition of the word “blue.” They hold the sky at its brightest and the ocean at its most fierce and flawless sapphires and glacial ice all within their beautiful depths. Your hand rises to gently cup that face, to feel the soft skin of his cheek, the curve of his jaw. Your palm cradles him and your heart grows warm with love and affection and pride that you can call this man yours. “Chevalier,” you murmur. “We should get up.”

His eyes open slowly. In them you can see denial. He does not want to get up yet. He would attack the dawn with his sword if he could. He breathes out, stretching his long legs and buries the face you had been so admiring into your bare shoulder. His mouth is warm against your skin when he finally speaks. “Not yet.”

With a smile you reach down, your fingers finding his chin and tilting his face back up. He allows it because it is you. “We really should.” Not able to help yourself, you lean down, capturing his lips in a kiss. Again, only you would ever be allowed to take him prisoner. His response is slow, each movement languid, savoring the feel of your mouths together, of the way your lips lock and unlock. You are the one who deepens the kiss, shifting yet again in his arms, pushing yourself up. Now you are not laying parallel but rise above him, your hair falling to curtain his face.

He reaches up, gathering your loose hair, winding its softness around his hand, all the while kissing you back with an intensity that screams high noon and not mid-morning. You feel the hold he has on you and gasp, your lips leaving his to curl into a smile. He growls, catching your lower lip between his teeth, not wanting you gone even a moment, holding you in place for a heartbeat before releasing you. “Not. yet.” His repeated words are rough with need, sliding over your skin, mirroring the feel of his palms on your body.

This was not quite how you expected to wish him a happy Valentine’s Day. You had plans for the day…. and yet you give yourself over to the trembling ache of wanting him without a moment's hesitation. Everything else can wait.

Afternoon: Leon

You can only feel when the carriage finally rolls to a stop because your eyes are bound by a strip of dark red silk. It’s been hours, rocking back and forth in darkness. You hear Leon open the door and then feel as he takes your hands in his, his hands calloused and strong. Your fingers curl around them tightly as he carefully leads you down and out of the carriage, your boots touching solid ground. He exchanges a few words with the driver and you hear the rattle of the horses’ harnesses, the departing clip-clop of their hooves, muted as they travel over dirt and not cobblestone.

Holding your hands in his, he pulls you along, laughter threaded through his voice like golden strands. Just a bit further he says as the ground under your feet begins to incline and you find yourself clearly walking uphill. He does not allow you to stumble. You are safe in his guidance. You trust him implicitly.

“Leon….I don’t know if I can go much further.” You’re only half jesting when you say the words, your legs starting to shake from the climb. He stops walking and lets go of your hands. A split second passes and then your feet leave the ground. He’s scooped you up into his arms, carrying you as he continues on. Warmth for him blooms in your heart as you wrap your arms around his neck, trusting him to the ends of the earth and back.

The air around you grows cooler, delivering misty kisses upon your skin. Although you are still going uphill, his pace doesn’t slow until you feel the way his hold on you changes, the ground leveling out. Carefully he sets you down and then moves behind you, his touch never leaving you so that you remain steady on your feet.

“Alright, my love. On three. One. Two. Three.” The silk slides off of your eyes and when you finally open them, your breath catches in your throat. You’re standing at the top of a hill, one stretching itself as tall as possible. From your vantage point, you can see down across the lush green fields that blanket the rolling hillside. They are laid out like a green carpet, all the way down to the town. From this height, the buildings you are so familiar with look like miniatures. Even the palace, gleaming white in the midday sun, looks like a child’s magical toy. As you take it all in, you remember a day almost half a year ago, when you had been visiting Leon in his office, admiring a weathered map that hangs on the wall.

“What’s beyond here?” you had asked, pointing to where the map’s green lines ended, blurring into the faded brown parchment. Leon had looked up and smiled slowly. “Shall I show you someday?” You nodded, smiling that smile that sent his heart spinning. And now, when the snow had melted enough, here you were.

“You remembered.” You turn your gaze away from the view to another stunning sight: Leon beaming, your joy lighting him up from within. He reaches for you and you move into his arms, natural as breathing, like falling into a dream. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, holding you close against him. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” His voice is soft with affection, the sweet, low tone one he only ever uses when speaking to you. You wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against the soft material of his cloak, feeling safe and warm and above everything, loved.

Evening: Clavis

You’re sitting in the salon, a warm fire blazing in the hearth, throwing soft orange and yellow light across the rich, dark wood and luxurious red velvet of the room. Clavis has disappeared, promising you one last treat. You wonder if your stomach will be able to handle “one last treat”. He’s spent the entire day showering you with little gifts, all of them food. A pancake breakfast with deep green and purple pancakes with some kind of blueish syrup. Lunch was a soup that actually glowed. (He swore it was supposed to do that.) And dinner? You’re not too sure. He claimed it was stew but the meat felt very chewy and the sauce was a bright orange you are certain does not exist in nature. But you ate it. Each meal, every bite. And you thanked him for his effort because you know he did it to make you happy.

But now as you wait for him, hands resting on your abdomen, you find yourself hoping he didn’t make something like the purple “bunny” he had created for your birthday. The one made out of some kind of jelly-like substance that left you smiling through a roiling, queasy stomach for several hours. And had tasted oddly like grass.

The wooden doors open and Clavis enters, holding a silver serving platter, covered by a silver dome. You push yourself upright even as your mind sends silent prayers to whoever may be listening that whatever is under there, it isn’t gelatinous. He kneels in front of where you are sitting on the couch, his eyes two golden pools sparkling with excitement. “Ready, my dear?” You draw a breath, trying to keep your smile steady and positive. “As ever.” He reaches around and removes the silver dome to reveal…

“Clavis….” The word is drawn from your lungs on a gasp. Laying on the silver platter is a small clay heart. It’s a pale lavender but it has a shimmer to it, as if it had been dipped in gold dust. A small hole has been made at the top, run through with a thin strip of soft, black leather. You reach out, taking the necklace in your hand, your heartbeat quickening. When you turn it over, you notice the initials etched into the back. Yours and his, in his signature loopy handwriting. When you look up at him, you see something for the first time today: nervousness shades his smile, uncertainty sparking in the gold of his eyes. “I thought of going to the royal jeweler, but then I remembered you talking about the craftswoman in town who makes these kinds of things and how much you loved her work. With the right persuasion, she helped me make this.” He licks his lips, forcing a smile. “If you’d rather have a gemstone, we can–”

He is cut off as you throw your arms around him, pressing your lips to his lips. And then his cheek. And then his chin. And other cheek. And forehead. And lips again. Again and again and again you kiss him anywhere you can until the both of you topple over onto the plush carpeting and he breaks out into laughter. “So my darling likes her present.”

You hug him to you tightly, your eyes closed so they miss the way his cheeks are tinged pink. Your reaction has both thrilled him to no end and surprised him. Sometimes....he can hardly believe that you are his. He returns your embrace, his cheek pressed against the top of your head. His heart beats a rhythm in his chest. I love you, it says. I love you. And yours answers in return: I love you too. I love you too.

Midnight: Gilbert

Valentine’s Day is not a holiday they celebrate in Obsidian. And so you have not mentioned it at all. You went about the day, business as usual. Together you and Gilbert inspected the latest garrison and spoke to its leaders. You met with a group of merchants promising seeds which have been bred to thrive in harsh conditions. You made the rounds of the palace while Gilbert tended to his correspondence. Now, as night falls, you stop by his study to check on him, your hand running over the nape of his neck, comforting and tender. He sends you to bed with a tired kiss to the back of that hand. He has work to do and you, Häschen, cannot help him. He would be happier to know you have gotten rest.

The study door closes behind you and you pause, leaning back against it. You could go to bed as he asked….but you don’t. Because you have an idea. So Gilbert writes, his black feathered quill scratching quietly on parchment, making notes in the margins of letters, and you make your way through the dark stone halls of the palace toward the room at its very heart: the kitchen. Gilbert writes. You work some magic.

It is hours later when Gilbert’s quill finally rests. He stands, stretching out his stiff limbs, one hand rubbing at the corner of his dark red eye. A country teetering on the brink of war requires constant vigilance. A role he understands he must play. But sometimes, wrapped in the secrecy of night’s darkest hour, he wishes he could set it down. The quill, the sword, the weight of Obsidian. And simply be with you.

He is bathed in shadow as he walks toward his bedroom, pushing open the dark, carved double doors. He moves silently, not wanting to wake you, but then he sees the candles still burning and you sitting on the edge of the bed, draped in a dressing gown of pearlescent white satin, holding a plate with something small and dark on it in your hands. He tilts his head, curiosity overcoming exhaustion as he walks over. “What’s this?”

The bed dips as he sits down next to you, his gaze traveling from the plate to your face. You clear your throat. “This….is a small tradition in Rhodolite. It’s Valentine’s Day.” You glance at the small clock on his nightstand, an ornate thing made of silver. “At least for another few minutes. And traditionally, it’s a day to celebrate love with cards and flowers and chocolate.” You shrug your shoulders, feeling suddenly shy under the intensity of his gaze. “I didn’t have time to make a nice card and flowers are hard to find here but I knew there was just enough chocolate left from what I brought with me to bake you a cookie.” You had only enough chocolate to make one cookie, a heart-shaped chocolate oatmeal cookie with chopped nuts and raisins inside. Not necessarily what you would enjoy but you knew they were all flavors Gilbert held dear.

He studies the cookie for a moment, silent. You wonder if maybe you’ve made a mistake. Maybe he just wants to go to sleep and not eat anything. Maybe he does not want to hear about a holiday from the country that is threatening his with war. Anxiety swells your heart and at the same time squeezes it with icy chains of uncertainty. This was a bad idea. Why did you even think it would be-

Gilbert lifts the cookie to his lips and takes a bite. His eye closes as he chews and you watch his face, the movement of his jaw. You notice the way his expression softens. There is peace in a face far too used to suspicion, to calculation, to hiding behind smiles and sharp words. There is bliss for a mind that has to think around a thousand corners. A mind that can now, in a moment of respite, simply enjoy the taste of something that you, the woman he loves, has made for him.

He finishes the whole thing with his eye closed. When it is gone, you reach out and take the plate from him, setting it down on the nightstand. When you lean back, he reaches for you. His kiss tastes like chocolate, like the richness of night, like the velvet softness of a love returned.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri chevalier #chevalier michel #ikepri leon #leon dompteur #ikepri clavis #clavis lelouch #ikepri gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #ikemen headcanons #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #happy valentine's day #violettwrites

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deancaspinefest · 3 months

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The 2024 Pinefest Posting Schedule is here!

Under the cut, you’ll find the full posting schedule for this eighth round of the Dean/Cas Pinefest, along with links to each preview. Posting season begins on pie day -- March 14th -- and will run for 34 days, with one team posting every day.

Enjoy the previews, and make sure to check out the links to everyone's other work while you're waiting for their pine-scented posting day!

Happy pining, everyone!

#deancas pinefest #destiel #deancas #dcpf #pinefest #masterpost 2024 #promo previews

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visxenyax · 9 months

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-𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖀𝖓𝖈𝖑𝖊

Synopsis: Aemond has been sent to find his granddaughter, in the middle of the night! Warning: Incest; possessive;(soft) brat kink; SMUT; NSFW ---------------------------------------------- It was the middle of the night and along the path that led to the village of Westrose, there was Aemond who with his black steed with thick hair, were traveling that road in search of his niece, who was no longer at the castle for just over a few hours. Finally the young prince wearing a robe with a hood came to the village, tethered his steed to the side of the village entrance warm, because of the illuminations and people dancing, getting drunk, gambling and you could even glimpse, of couples in the middle of a sexual act;

he wasted no time when the young man was harassed by two prostitutes, a male who promised him divine experiences and the woman who told him that if he went with her, she would take him to see the seven gods!

<<Let me pass!>> he said in a cold voice and his temper was also icy, on the other hand it was his nature to always be icy and cold! The prostitutes were embittered, but on the other hand they were used to having similar behaviors from people; without remorse Aemond resumed his search for his niece; she was renowned for being a fairly open person, not very disciplined, who loved the freedom of the world, and hated being a princess locked up 24/7 inside a luxurious palace. As he went further and further, the number of people increased; continuing at this pace, he arrived at the square where there was a large wooden slab where belly dancers danced on it

Bodies with abundant and not abundant curves, which with their movements could enchant anyone, those curves and sinuous and sensual movements, lust but also the joy in expressing oneself by dancing transpired from them, a dance full of sensuality but also of happiness and joy . In the middle of the slab it was possible to notice a mane with long white hair, so long that it reached up to his bottom, it seemed made of shiny silk, although it was visually splendid and soft. "There she is," thought Aemond.

In his rough way, Aemond waded into the fray and forcefully took his niece's arm and dragged her away from the slab; the girl didn't seem to react at first, but when she turned around and saw who it was and what was going on, she became furious and was trying to wriggle out of his grip in every way, looking like a wild young filly. <<Let me go, uncle! I told you to let go of this fucking grip!>>she yelled, but he paid no attention

"Do you know what the fuck time it is?! it's time to stop doing your usual little girly shit and act like a princess, and you can't come here at this hour!>>Aemond's head whipped around towards her, and his face was full of anger, his eyebrows were furrowed, while his one eye was wide open, you didn't need the other eye to cause concern, that alone was enough; only from that could his anger be seen, through his glacial eye <<You are angry?>> Visenya looked down, she was scared and sorry for his behavior, he didn't like it when his uncle scared him so, she always felt uncomfortable almost disappointed in his presence when he behaved like this… Aemond didn't answer and turned away, still yanking his niece towards the exit that wasn't very close to them. Visenya's arm started to ache... <<Aemond…let go, you're hurting me, I won't run away, I promise>> said Visenya Without doubting Aemond aware of the too much force he had put on the girl's arm, I immediately loosened my grip, but it was too loose that Visenya escaped from his clutches. ''Holy sh-'' With a skilful shot he chased his niece, it wasn't easy to catch her, the young woman was rather plump but had muscles in her legs, which allowed her to have a fairly fast run.

the race was slowly becoming more and more exhausting, Visenya was trudging so to the first barn she saw, she darted into it, hiding behind a giant accumulation of pairs; lying down on a bed also made of the same material as the accumulation of pairs.

exhausted by running, she lay dead weight on it, hoping not to be found by her uncle. Aemond couldn't find her anymore, for the first time a feeling of panic hid inside him; thinking about how many punishments he would have had if he hadn't found her. Or to the millions of problems that her mysterious disappearance would cause, the people loved her, and would like her to become the future queen, for this Aemond must find her at all costs, for the kingdom.

without thinking he entered the barn in which his niece had entered, the place gave off her perfume

<<I know you're here, Visenya, show yourself!>> He was calling her back, even though he was looking for her everywhere, inside that place. He finally reached the place where Visenya was hidden, and there he could see the candor and sensuality of his niece...

her green, almond-shaped eyes looking at him with that innocent look, her heart-shaped mouth, half open with surprise at having been found; her curvy body, her slender legs....

An intense heat slowly built inside Aemond

<<Visenya, get up...and come- let's go!>>

Visenya shook her head as she pulled back

The young man kneeling in front of her was surprised by her audacity and the sensation she was experiencing; enjoying the moment he threw his head back, while being caressed by the young woman, he gave out soft moans, he wanted to keep himself composed even in that intimate moment, he didn't want to sin of virilityAemond was more and more fascinated, his member felt it, he felt he was going crazy... the tissue that trapped him was becoming more and more tight and annoying.. ''Fuck..'' even her thoughts were reeling with lust Aemond closed his eyes inhaling all the air he could, letting it out two minutes later, he had to calm down, but he felt the young girl caressing the inside of his thigh "What are you doing, brat- Visenya's hands were climbing more and more, until they reached Aemond's covered linguine... <<If you don't stop, the fire will burn you>>Aemond said <<Eh..then burn me, under this pair, let's create hell inside this barn>> she answered longing for Aemond. Aemond quickly lowered himself joining his lips on those of the young woman, in a hungry kiss, he was in need of her attention, that attention he had craved since time immemorial, his member was bursting with the desire he had for his Visenya, always the defined as hers even if she was unaware, wherever she went, she had her icy shadow, watching her, longing for her, protecting her. the kiss grew more and more fierce, adding their tongues from both sides, a kiss that became red-hot; Aemond wanted her and without thinking twice, he took both sides of the corset she was holding and forcefully split the corset, ripping the dress underneath; revealing the curves of her young, soft curves, almost milky white skin; her body in Aemond's eyes was perfect, her small breasts were grabbed and licked by the young man; the small nipple of the left breast was meticulously licked by his long and wet tongue. Making the girl moan, her repeated moans were like choirs of angels to Aemond... Visenya's hands were helping her uncle strip off the clothes he was wearing, leaving him shortly thereafter naked; his body was lean and muscular, but not too much, he wasn't excessively full of scars, but these little accessories made a bad impression on him, made him a fascinating man in the eyes of the girl. The hands that were previously busy stripping him were now busy on the young man's modest member, caressing and giving him pleasure. The young man kneeling in front of her was surprised by her audacity and the sensation she was experiencing; enjoying the moment he threw his head back, while being caressed by the young woman, he gave out soft moans, he wanted to keep himself composed even in that intimate moment, he didn't want to sin of virility

Aemond's hips started moving towards the girl, he wanted to feel more pleasure.

<<I want to hear you, Aemond, come to me>>

The young man didn't have to repeat it, he grabbed the girl's legs and dragged her upwards, bringing her close to his virility, eager. He entered her with such slowness as to send her to the gallows, he wanted to make every inch of himself felt inside her; the young woman was moaning, her moans were driving Aemond crazy and from there the inferno lit up, Aemond began to give decisive and repeated jabs, the young woman's body was slammed back and forth, their pleasure was increasing greatly , Aemond's composure had become nothing, his soft moans were making themselves heard, a chorus of moans could be heard inside that barn. Movements of hips more and more animalistic was giving, the young man felt his heart explode from the pleasure that the girl's flesh gave him. More and more he wanted the girl, he loved the young man's member inside her, he loved how he was giving it to her Aemond and Visenya were almost at their climax, the two mouths that had parted, reunited, as his hands returned to her small breasts, squeezing and releasing, moving it from side to side, as the movements of boy they became less and less until the last jab she gave him was so decisive and dry that it made the young girl's eyes widen, making her gasp.... Aemond's orgasm poured out onto the pair that was next to her body; while Visenya's climax was heard by a scream of pleasure… ----------------------------------------- The bodies lay side by side, sleeping, and weary from the sexual intercourse they've just had.

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#aemond fanfiction #aemond #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aegon targaryen #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #smut #house of the dragon #hotd aemond #hotd imagine #yn #visenya targaryen #queen visenya #aemond x visenya #image #oneshot #x reader

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