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thealtoduck · 5 months

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Forbidden Fruit

Theon Greyjoy x Male Reader

Warnings: Smut, Theon in his asshole era, anal sex, loss of virginity, doggy style, use of the word ”whore”, use of the word ”maiden” for a virgin man because it’s a thing in the GoT/Asoiaf, Theon referring to your ass as a ”cunt”, rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding, spit as lube, everyone kinda wants to fuck you too…

Summary: Theon has his eyes set on you and wants to be your first…

——

The sounds swords clanging against each other rang out over the courtyard of Winterfell as Theon Greyjoy and Robb Stark practised their swordfighting. Both of them in full focus on the task of beating the others.

Theon was just about to land a winning strike when someone behind Robb distracted him, stealing his focus. A beautiful young man, Y/n Poole, the son of the steward of Winterfell. Theon was distracted just long enough for Robb to be able to knock him to the ground.

”Come on Theon, keep your eyes on your opponent” Robb said annoyed and turned to see what Theon had been looking at, his eyes landing on you. ”Y/n, the steward’s son?” Robb questioned his friend. ”I’ve heard one of the chefs claim he took his virginity but he was drunk so i think he might have lied” Robb gossiped as he continued looking at you.

”I wouldn’t mind fucking him myself” he then said to the annoyance of Theon. ”Oh please, is the little lord Robb Stark gonna fuck the steward’s son?” Theon mocked him. ”He needs someone to take his boy cunt like the little whore he is” Theon said looking hungrily towards you as you were talking to a couple of castle guards.

”And that’s going to be you?” Robb questioned sarcastically. But Theon wasn’t listening he was already planning.

——

That night during dinner…

Theon watched you as you sat next to Jon, chatting cheerfully. Theon needed to catch you alone. Luckily for him he’d get his shot soon… You were also sat next to Sansa Stark which put you in the crossfire between her and her sister Arya’s never ending war.

Arya loaded her spoon with a piece of meat pie and launched it towards Sansa… but she missed hitting your chest, dirtying your light grey tunic. ”Arya! Look what you did?!” Sansa scolded her younger sister. ”I’m so sorry about her” Sansa apologised frantically as she tried to wipe of your shirt with a cloth napkin.

”Don’t worry about it Lady Sansa, i’ll just go change” you said calmly, standing up from the table and walking off. Theon saw this was his chance to finally meet you alone.

He soon managed to sneak away from the the dining hall. He stopped by the kitchens and snagged two goblets and a pitcher of wine, then he made his way through Winterfell castle towards the small part occupied by Steward of Winterfell and his family.

He knocked on the door he knew belonged to you. ”One moment” came your voice from the inside. Then the door opened revealing you in a nightshirt and underwear, you quickly wrapped yourself in a thin blue robe to cover up more for you’re unexpected visitor.

”Theon” you said happily at sight of him. ”Sorry, i’m not more properly dressed i was just about to go to bed” you said tying your robe. ”Oh no worries” he said with a flirty smile, you were gonna be even less dressed once he was done with you.

”How can i help you?” you asked. ”Oh, i just wondered if you’d like to have quick drink with me” he said holding up the pitcher and the two goblets he brought. You looked unsure. ”If your not too tired of course” he quickly added.

”Of course, a drink wouldn’t hurt” you said and held open the door for him, letting him in to your bed chamber. Theon observed the room, it was smaller than his own. It had a small square window with a nice view. A little fire place where a fire was burning, heating up the cold castle room.

A square table with a set of two chairs and a clothing chest right next to it. And finally the bed, which was draped in soft blankets. Above it hung a banner for your House, House Poole. The room was textbook definition of what Theon would describe as cozy.

You sat down in one of the chairs by the table, as Theon put the goblets on the table, pouring wine in each and then putting the pitcher down. He sat down in the other chair, you both grabbed your goblets. ”Cheers” Theon said and you clinked your goblets together and drank.

The two of you talked for a while. Theon decided to start testing the waters. He moved his leg slightly making it rest against yours, your eyes drifted to his leg for half a second before you looked back to him but you didn’t move away.

Time passed as you told Theon a story, once you finished it became quiet through the chamber. ”You’re really pretty you know” Theon stated boldly filling the silence in the room. Before you had time to respond Theon started talking ”Some of the staff has been talking about it, how they want to fuck you. Even the lordling Robb Stark said so”.

”And i understand them, you are very pretty” he continued. You looked rather unsure what to answer. ”Tell me Y/n, have you ever been fucked before?” Theon asked shamelessly, leaning closer to you. ”I… no, i have not” you told him, trying to stay casual.

”Would you like to be?” Theon then asked immodestly, leaving you slightly stunned. ”By-…By you?” you asked, Theon gave you a smirk as comformation. ”I-I wouldn’t know what to do” you said shyly. Theon played with the strings of your night shirt and said ”Don’t worry, i’ll show you”.

He then pulled you in to a kiss, his lips pushing hungrily against yours. Theon pulled you both up from your seats leading you to the middle of the room as you made out. Theon pulled of your robe, then his own jacket and he continued until you were both left naked in front of each other.

Your dick had gotten erected from Theon’s sudden interest in you and it made Theon’s own manhood swell with pride. He took your wrist in his hand and guided your hand over his slightly fuzzy chest down to his erect manhood. It was the first time you had ever touched another man in such a manner.

He made you enclose your fingers around his hardend cock and tug at it a little, rubbing him off slowly. ”Feel what you do to me Y/n” he uttered.

He led you backwards towards your beds and your naked bodies climbed up on it. Theon laid you down on the bed and the two of you passionately made out. Theon moved his hands to you ass and let his fingers graze against your hole.

You were unfamiliar with his action as you had never experienced it before but let Theon continue. He slowly started pushing his finger inside you, making you audibly gasp against his lips at the feeling of being streched out. ”That’s right relax” Theon instructed.

Once he added next finger he did it more hastily, making you yelp quietly. Theon let out a small chuckle ”Such a warm nice cunt for me to fuck” Theon said before shoving in a third finger.

Theon then stood up on his knees, he grabbed you and positioned you on all fours, ass spread out in front of him. He spit in to his own hand rubbing it on his manhood. ”I’m gonna take you like a real lord would” Theon said which you wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a warning.

Theon didn’t waste any time and started pushing his rockhard cock inside your virgin hole, making you groan, feeling yourself be filled. ”Fuck your tight around my cock” Theon said pleasureably sheathing himself fully inside you.

Before you had time to adjust he snapped his hips forwards thrusting into you making you release a small cry. ”Was this what he had meant? Was this how lords fucked their wives?” you thought to yourself.

Theon grabbed your hips and started setting a pace a his hips thrust against your ass. His raw cock forcing your walls to stretch, you released several whines as Theon roughly plowed in to you. ”Fuck Theon, you’re so big” you said through your pained but pleasured moans.

Theon grabbed your head as he pounded your ass saying ”What would your steward father say? Seeing his son deflowered by Eddard’s Stark ward like some common whore”. As he thrusted as hard in to you as his body would let him.

”Maybe i should go get him after this and make him come look at his son’s cum stained body” Theon said cockily. You however couldn’t answer him as you had your face pressed against the matress moaning endlessly from the ecstasy of Theon’s cock fucking you.

”Maybe i should start coming by every night and make good use of your cunt and fill you with my seed” he suggested, his thrusts rocking your bed back and forth. ”Shame you can’t have my bastards” he added.

From the endless groans to the creaking bed, you hoped no one could hear you getting your virginity fucked out of you by Theon. You felt your own cock twitching getting close to your orgasm. ”I’m gonna cum” you moaned. And soon after your load dripped down on the sheets below.

Theon kept plowing in to you for several minutes, claiming your ass as his. Sweat glazed his and your body as the room had gotten hot and damp. He grunted and uttered a satisfied ”I’m gonna fill you with my cum”.

With one last rough thrust Theon shoved his manhood deep inside you, his cock erupting staining your innocene with his warm seed. He then pulled out of you with a smirk, seeing his cum leak out of puckered hole and running down your legs. You collapsed on to the matress below in exhaustion.

Theon was just about to get ready to leave but he couldn’t leave you like this. He covered your nakedness under the covers and blankets. He then started getting dressed and before he left planted a kiss on your forehead saying ”You were so good to me, Y/n, better than any common whore, you were divine”. He then gave you a last kiss before he left your bed chambers with a smirk and a feeling of satisfaction, and maybe even a little bit of love.

#theon greyjoy x male reader #theon greyjoy x male!reader #a song of ice and fire x male reader #game of thrones x male reader #game of thrones x male!reader #asoiaf x male reader #x male reader #male reader #x male!reader #theon greyjoy x male reader smut #game of thrones x male reader smut #male reader smut #x male reader smut

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aemondsbabe · 22 days

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From Ashes, Fire | Claimant Pt 3

summary: dragons take what they want, you and your brother are no different. but what will be left to burn in the name of happiness?

pairing: dark!aemond x sister!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark aemond, angst, angst but happy ending, very cersei/jaime coded moment that's all i'll say, major character death, noncanonical death, very brief descriptions of injury, blood, i promise it's nothing graphic, reader turns to the dark side lol, piv sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), minor breeding kink, possessive aemond, possessive reader, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 8.3k oops

a/n: this is it, the grand finale! i had so much fun with this series and i hope y'all enjoy the last bit!

gif creds to @aemondtargaryensource

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🔪read part 1 and part 2 here!

❤️my masterlist

🦋find me on ao3!

🌟add yourself to my taglist!

"Love is the bane of honor, the death of duty."

“Jaehaera, please,” Helaena’s voice is gentle and melodic even as she scolds her daughter, pointing at one of the straw-stuffed dolls in her tiny hands, “You must share with your brother; how about you let him play with the knight, hm?”

One of Maelor’s little fists wraps tightly around your pointer finger as you chuckle at the displeased frown on the toddler’s face when she shoves the doll in Jaehaerys’s direction, though her lips quickly lift into a smile at her mother’s praise.

“Good, that’s very sweet of you,” your sister smiles, watching her eldest two children play, sitting cross-legged beside them on the plush blanket she’d had spread out on the grass.

A cool breeze blows through the grassy field while you idly look around at the many red tents and campfires, observing the groups of people gathered around – knights sat at one of the many wooden tables, a few servants peel vegetables brought from the Keep, and various nobles, lady’s maids, and other court patrons shuffle about.

Taking a deep breath, you turn your face toward the sun, cooler now as day turns to evening, and savor the first moment of peace you’ve had in nearly a week. The days since your marriage to Jace have been… eventful, to say the least, with each new duty feeling like another stab to your already fragile heart. Respite hadn’t even found you in the night, each one spent fending off your new husband’s advances with excuses of your menstrual flux having come early, headaches, and various other ailments. He was getting anxious, you could tell – each night he pushed back a little more, arguing the importance of consummating the marriage, reminding you of the vows you had both uttered in the Sept.

But how can a vow mean much if the Gods know it was only ever a lie?

You had felt your mother’s eyes on you at every turn, watching you and your brother like a hawk. Though as the days progressed her fiery stare cooled to one of guilt – a penance for subjecting you to the same fate that had befallen her. You suspected that was why she and Rhaenyra had organized this little trip; a celebratory hunt they’d called it, to commemorate the rift between your two families finally being healed.

“Dear, dear wife,” your oldest brother slurs, goblet clutched in one hand as he staggers toward you and Helaena, groaning when he flops down on the bench next to you. “Oh, you look… ravishing,” your lips quirk up into a smirk as he drapes an arm around your shoulders, giggling and making faces at Maelor.

“What did I tell you,” your sister says through a huff of laughter, violet eyes finding yours, “They ignore you until they’re drunk.”

If only that were the case, you think as you force yourself to laugh in time with her.

“That is quite rude,” Aegon chastises, brows furrowed in offense while he takes a messy swig of wine, a few red drops run down his chin. “Do you see how she treats me?” He pouts, leaning closer to you with a wry grin, “The deed is done though, yes? Bastard knew where to put it?”

“Aegon!” Helaena hisses, swatting at his knee.

The two fall into a playful round of bickering, thankfully leaving you out of it. With a sigh, you let your gaze wander again, tumbling thoughts muffling your siblings voices.

“It’s not as hard as it looks, here,” Daemon’s voice catches your attention and you watch as he points a knife at the belly of a deer he and Lucerys had hunted earlier in the day, showing the boy where to cut, “Get your knife in there – good, like that, and now just cut downwards, one clean movement…” You glance away as blood spills from the beast’s abdomen, staining the grass below it.

Looking over the treeline, you try to ignore the sick feeling building in the pit of your stomach, though you know it won’t be settled until Aemond’s back at camp. Biting at your lip, you let out an irritated huff when you can’t make out any movement in the distance, no sign of your brother or Ser Criston, even your husband.

You’d only spoken to Aemond once since your marriage – a hushed conversation hidden away in an alcove when the two of you had a spare moment alone after supper. He’d held you while you’d cried against the crook of his neck, shushing you and running a soothing hand up and down your back. You remember the way his jaw felt, teeth clenched as he rested it atop your head, letting you tuck yourself into him while he vibrated with barely contained rage.

“I can’t do this, I can’t,” you lamented, peering up at him with a mournful sob as your fingers clung to the dark jacket he wore, “They’re planning on going back to Dragonstone! Dragonstone, Aem!”

“Shh, little one,” his hands had cupped your cheeks, wiped away your tears with calloused thumbs, “I’m not letting them take you.”

His words had held such conviction, you’d wanted nothing more than to believe him, yet you’d shaken your head anyway. “I don’t think there’s any stopping them, this time,” your breath had hitched with each word, “You heard Rhaenyra, they’re leaving as soon as we’re back from the hunt and she would never agree to leave Jacaerys here, never.”

You had known you were spiraling, head spinning as you’d looked up at him, and yet the words tumbled out anyway. “I hate him, I wish he’d just… just disappear!” It was a childish little jab and yet, your heart had leapt into your throat the moment you’d said it. You were expecting to feel the clawing ache of guilt gnaw at your stomach, however, a weightlessness followed. You’d never felt lighter than in that moment – tucked away in the shadows, a secret you’d harbored since childhood finally set free.

Aemond had stayed quiet, but you saw the way his violet eye sparkled, the gears turning in his head.

Your words had echoed in his head, calling out to him like a siren’s song – the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

Finally convinced that the three men are truly not just going to materialize at the edge of camp, your gaze shifts to where your mother and Rhaenyra sit, huddled together beside one of the many firepits. Bouncing little Maelor on your lap, you’re vaguely aware of Aegon and Helaena idly chatting beside you, something to do with how your brother believes some such thing about the Small Council is a waste of time – a frequent complaint of his since taking the throne.

You’re hardly listening though, head cocked to the side while you watch the two women laughing and animatedly conversing; they remind you of the young girls at court – youthful and carefree, too wrapped up in one another to notice much around them.

That’s why she let them go together, that shadowy voice in the back of your head hisses, Too distracted to know better. You clench your jaw, only halfway aware of the stinging pain at your cuticle as you dig a nail into it.

“What say you to accompanying me on a hunt, nephew?” Aemond had asked earlier in the afternoon, voice low as he slunk over to where you, Jace, and your mothers had been sitting at one of the wooden tables, picking through a light lunch the cooks at the Keep had prepared.

“Aemond,” Alicent had sighed wearily, leaning heavily on her elbows while Rhaenyra regarded your brother with a cool indifference – evidently unaware of your family’s tensions.

“What? I merely wish to bond with my dearest sister’s new husband.”

“Uncle,” Jace had finally spoken up, pointedly grasping one of your hands that had sat on the table, “As much as I would love to accompany you, don’t you think it a bit unwise for only the two of us to go? If I remember correctly from my youth, your father used to take a whole host of men into the woods with him…”

“Do you not think yourself man enough to take on a measly buck, nephew?”

“Aemond!”

“Don’t fret, mother. ‘Twas only a joke, a tasteless one, I admit,” your hackles had raised at that, at how quickly he had stood down, so wholly unlike your brother, “Besides, I’ve taken the liberty of asking Ser Criston to accompany us as well.”

It was then, at the mention of the knight, that Rhaenyra had leaned closer to Alicent, the two of them laughing softly and sharing knowing glances while your half-sister whispered into her ear.

“Surely the three of us are more than capable of subduing a deer or two, don’t you think?”

Jace had balked at that, sighing heavily as his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly.

“I think it sounds like a wonderful idea,” you had coached your lips into a tight smile when you interjected, “Doesn’t that sound like a lovely idea, mother?”

“Hm?” She had blinked, finally parting from Rhaenyra, the ghost of a smile still on her lips.

“For Ser Criston to accompany Jace and Aemond, to go hunting with them.”

“Well, I –”

“Surely that would be safest, yes?” You pushed, glancing at Jace before locking eyes with Aemond, “A knight with them, a Kingsguard no less.”

“I think it sounds like a fine idea,” Rhaenyra had smiled, squeezing one of your mother’s hands, “They should take the time to bond, no? Savor it while we’re together these last few days.”

“Yes… yes, a fine idea,” she had immediately agreed, always swaying to your half-sister.

“Wonderful,” your brother murmured, a slow smile spreading across his lips as he clasped his arms behind his back, “I’ll have Ser Criston ready the horses.” With that, he had stalked away, giving you one final glance.

“You truly think this a good idea?” Your husband had questioned, turning to you while your mothers got lost in yet another hushed conversation.

“Of course!” You had nodded, clasping one of his hands in both of yours, “Aemond is… odd with his affections. This is just his way of attempting to rectify things, I’m sure of it.”

“I suppose…,” he had sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.

“It’ll be fine,” you had urged, going so far as to lean over and press a kiss against his cheek, one of the scant few times you had initiated any affections.

Those words had echoed in your head while you watched the three men sheath their swords and load various bows and arrows onto their horses, the midday sun suddenly feeling much too warm against your skin.

It’ll be fine, you had reminded yourself for the millionth time when they set off, horses galloping along a narrow path that led into the Kingswood, He’s not letting them take me, it’ll be fine.

“Oh, shit,” Aegon whispers beside you, nearly dropping his goblet.

You quickly follow his eyeline, looking to where he stares at one of the small paths that lead into the camp – the sight wrenching a hitched gasp from your throat.

A hush seems to fall over the entirety of the camp, only for the quickest of seconds, before chaos erupts. Aemond stands before one of the horses, a grey one you recognize as Jace’s, steadying it while Criston pulls your husband from the saddle, smearing the side of the animal with thick streaks of red.

Daemon quickly runs over to assist while you hastily hand Maelor back to Helaena, hardly looking in her direction as you do.

“Jace? Jacaerys?!” Rhaenyra calls, picking up her skirts as she sprints over, violet eyes wide with terror, “What is it? What’s happened?”

Every noise sounds muffled when you make your way over to the huddle of commotion, Alicent following closely behind. A strange detached sensation fills you while you watch Criston and Daemon lay Jace down on a nearby bench, blood immediately soaking into the silk fabric of the pillows.

It feels as if everything is happening both too quickly and too slowly all at once – a few of the other knights rush forward, hastily pulling his tunic out of the way before pressing stark white medical linens to the gaping cut on his side. They bark orders over his body, yelling for the servants to bring water and more linens.

You feel your mother and Helaena grabbing at your arms and it’s only then you realize you’re shaking, swaying in place like a leaf on a branch; you know they’re talking to you but their words are dulled by the rushing of blood in your ears.

Somewhere in your periphery, you register the sound of Daemon’s voice, thick with desperation as he shouts question after question at Criston, “What happened? When? How? How long ago? How could you, you were supposed to protect him?!” They blend together, echoing through the haze in a roaring hum.

Distantly, you register the feel of another warm body pressing into the small pack you find yourself a part of. Helaena shushes someone next to you and your gaze tears itself away from the pools of crimson gathering on the grass just long enough to realize that it’s Luke. Your heart breaks at that, a sharp pang in your chest at the fact that the poor boy is distressed enough to seek comfort from your family, of all places.

“No! No, no, no!” Rhaenyra’s wails slice through the fog clouding your mind in such an exacting manner that your knees buckle, “Jace, Jace, look at me, please? Sweetling, please look at me!” She sobs, leaning over her son, one hand cradling his cheek.

Unseeing brown eyes stare, unblinking, up at the hazy orange sky while yours focus solely on a single, paralyzing flash of violet.

He’s not letting them take me, it’ll be fine.

The Sept is eerily quiet, normal for this time of night but unsettling all the same; the occasional fizzling noises of the dozens of flickering candles is the only way you’re able to discern that time hasn’t simply halted. Pale moonlight shines in through the windows, bathing the floor in a star-shaped pool of light and making the whites of the painted eyes resting atop Jace’s face glow like beacons.

You had picked out the stones and painted the eyes on them yourself, taking them from a spot in the gardens you knew he had favored when you were children and spent hours sourcing the pigments to make just the right shade of brown – one that reminded you of the rich chocolates that had been imported from Essos for your betrothal feast.

“A wife’s duty,” your mother had said.

Rhaenyra had glared at you the whole time; silently, you wondered if she somehow knew it wasn’t duty that drove you – only atonement.

Atonement, your mind echoes as you sit upon the cool stone steps beneath the Seven-Pointed Star, leaning your head against the bannister as you force yourself to look at his body, still atop black silks.

Must one feel guilt to atone? Must I atone for not feeling it? When will it end?

Those questions had plagued you in the days since Jace died, bled out like a hunter’s boon in the field by the Kingswood. They’d settled over you like a fever, an ever-present haunting ache, made only worse by the soft, sinful voice in the back of your head that whispered the truth – that you didn’t care, that you don’t even now.

You hadn’t cared, even as blood seeped from the gash at his side, even as you forced yourself to kneel by his still warm body and press gentle kisses to his forehead – the performance of a good wife.

You hadn’t cared in the carriage ride back to the Keep, letting your mother and your sister hold you while you cried – I’m sad, I’m sad, I’m crying because I’m sad, I’m crying because I should be sad.

And you hadn’t cared when Aemond had come to you in the dead of night, had slipped into your chambers – your chambers – through one of the many hidden passageways in the old castle.

“How?” You had asked, tracing patterns onto the pale skin of his bare chest while the two of you laid tangled in your silk sheets.

“A boar,” he answered plainly, speaking through a sigh while running his fingers over the thigh you had draped across his hips, “Just as I’ve told you the last four times you’ve asked.”

“Aemond,” you sighed in that same tired tone your mother so often used; your eyes had narrowed when you saw the corner of his lips just barely twitch up into a smile; were it any other time, he would’ve made a cheeky comment about the similarity.

“I’ve told you,” his grip tightened ever so slightly on your thigh and his other hand had grasped at your chin, guiding your eyes to his, “We had been tracking a buck, had gotten close and dismounted our horses, and had, I assume, stumbled into the beast’s territory and it charged at us.”

“Brother,” you had whispered, shaking your head and cupping his cheek, “Have you forgotten that I can tell when you lie?”

He had stayed silent for a long while at that, jaw clenched while he stared at some point off in the distance, lips drawn into a tight line. Eventually, you had laid your head down, resting your cheek on his shoulder while you tried to accept that you wouldn’t be getting the truth that night, if ever.

It was only then that he had spoken.

“Please, let me protect you.”

“Protect me?” You had looked up, brows furrowed as you studied his face, “From what?”

“From the law –”

“Our brother is king, if he says it was not murder, if he says it was an accident, which he already has done, then no one will question his –”

“Fine, then,” he had snapped, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, “From the damn Gods! I…” He trailed off, sighing heavily while he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“... the Gods?”

He’d finally looked at you again and your heart had pinched meanly in your chest when you saw tears gathering in his violet eye, “They will judge me harshly for what I’ve done, whenever the time comes, but… I will not subject you to the same fate.”

You had scoffed at that, had rolled your eyes when he looked away shamefully and had climbed atop him then, straddled his hips and turned his face toward yours, “I don’t give a shit about the Gods.”

“What?”

“I don’t,” you repeated, leaning down until your forehead touched his, “If they were good Gods, if they cared, they would not have subjected me to that sham of a marriage in the first place. They would’ve guided our mother rightly, but they didn’t.”

“Sister, I –”

“And I hate that our nephew paid for that, Aemond, I truly do, but I am the one who told you to do it.”

He had shaken his head while a mournful peal of laughter clawed its way out of his throat, “You didn’t tell me to do any–”

“Perhaps not directly,” you interjected, smiling sadly while you cupped both of his cheeks in your hands, running a thumb over the scar beneath his eye, “But I did. I could’ve told you not to, could’ve said I didn’t mean it, could’ve cautioned our mother against letting him go with you, but… I didn’t.”

“No… no, I suppose you didn’t,” he sighed, swallowing thickly as he tried in vain to blink away tears.

“I didn’t,” you echoed, your words hushed and cooed, like a mother soothing an infant, “I know what you’re capable of, I knew it then, and I didn’t.”

He nodded, his breath stuttered in his throat as a single tear rolled down his cheek.

“Because I knew you’d protect me… and you did.”

“I did,” he mumbled, nodding up at you as his face twisted and a small sob bubbled from his lips, “I did, I did it. I did it, I did. For you, for us.”

“I know,” you murmured sweetly, stroking a hand over his long hair while you pressed sweet kisses against his forehead. You held him as he cried, huddled together in the dark of your chambers

And you hadn’t cared when you realized you were smiling.

“The hour is quite late, little one,” the suddenness of his voice makes you jump, though you settle quickly.

“So it is,” you smile and look over your shoulder, tilting your head up while he walks down the steps to join you, “The hour of ghosts, yes? Fitting.”

He huffs as he sits beside you before regarding you with a slight smirk, “I suppose it is,” he murmurs, only sparing the red and black draped body on the altar a passing glance.

“Why are you here?”

“I was looking for you… Hel said you would probably be here.”

“Mm,” you nod, idly running a finger over the pattern on your skirts, finding a morbid sort of beauty in the way the rich black silks glimmered in the candlelight.

“Why are you here?” Aemond asks, eye following the line of your profile.

“Praying.”

Without looking, you can practically feel him rolling his eye beside you, huffing a little breathy laugh again, “Have you forgotten that I can tell when you lie, sweet sister?”

Hearing your own words from the night before parroted back to you pulls a laugh from you as well, though you wince as your giggle echoes throughout the Sept. “It’s funny,” you sigh, glancing about the cavernous space before finally looking at him, “This is the only place where no one wants to be.”

He hums next to you and nods his head, lets the two of you sit in silence for a moment before you continue.

“I don’t have to pretend when I’m here.”

“Pretend?”

Biting at your bottom lip, you nod and lean into his touch when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “That I’m sad… that I feel anything, really,” you sigh, breathing the words more so than saying them, “All Rhaenyra does is cry, Daemon is ready to strangle anything that moves, Lucerys is despondent to the point of being mute. Even our own mother cries for him and I cannot muster a single tear that isn’t a farce.”

Your eyes trail back over to Jace and you regard him with a mournful stare, staying silent for a long moment as you try to will yourself to feel sad, to feel angry, to feel guilty… yet nothing comes.

“Everyone grieves differently,” Aemond mumbles beside you, though his words only serve to make you more bitter, “Perhaps, in time –”

“In time nothing will happen,” you snap, grimacing at the harshness in your voice, “I’m not sad and I am… I’m tired of pretending I am.” You murmur, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Aemond is quiet for a long while, though you can feel the energy radiating off of him in waves – you’ve always been able to tell when he has a lot on his mind. You’re content to simply let him think, taking his silence as a cue that it’s your turn to let him sort through things.

“You… are happy, though? Yes?” He finally asks after several long minutes, going strangely rigid next to you as if he’s afraid of your answer, “I know you say you aren’t sad but…”

“Aemond,” you sigh, sitting up and staring at him as a slow, creeping smile spreads across your face, “I have never been happier.”

“Truly?”

“Yes!” You quickly shift yourself on the stairs, turning yourself more toward him and placing a gentle hand on top of his thigh, “Big brother, you saved me.”

He opens his mouth to speak but you don’t let him get a word in edgewise before the emotions you’ve been bottling up over the last few days finally spill over and you practically throw yourself into his lap, straddling his hips.

“Brother, I've been tethered to him since I was eight and you have freed me from that,” you say softly, voice hardly carrying in the air. Slowly, carefully you pull his eyepatch off, the only one ever allowed to do so; there is a sadness in your smile when you gently trail your fingers over the crease of his scar, “We both lost something that night and have suffered for it ever since.”

Without another word, you press your lips to his and savor the groan your kiss pulls from him. His hands grab at your hips in the same instance yours card through his hair while your lips move together in a practiced rhythm.

Impatient, one of your hands travels down his chest and stomach, though you hardly have time to pull at the hem of his dark tunic before he grabs your wrist, stopping you.

“Aemond,” you huff, fighting against his grip.

“Surely you don’t mean to defile this place in such a way,” he murmurs, violet eye sparkling as if he were challenging you, even as he glances over your shoulder, “What would your dear husband think?

You grin at the lecherous smirk on his lips, heart pounding in your chest as a familiar ache settles at the apex of your thighs. You give one final glance over your shoulder before turning back to him with a dismissive shrug. “Husband in name only,” you remind him, yanking your hand out of his grasp and trailing your fingers over the growing bulge beneath his trousers, “I have only ever been devoted to you.”

A rough growl leaves his lips and he clenches his jaw, narrowing his eye. “We will burn for this, sweet sister,” he huffs, pale cheeks flushing while he stares up at you, one hand still settled on your hip as the other comes up to cup your jaw.

“The Seven can have their say,” your cunt clenches at the way he looks at you – surprise, lust, even reverence giving such an intensity to his gaze that it nearly knocks the wind from your lungs, “The Old Valyrian Gods can as well, I don’t care. Aemond, I don’t.”

Your hand finally, blessedly, pulls free the ties at the top of his trousers and you quickly find his length. The sharp grunt that’s wrenched from his throat when your hand wraps around it echoes through the Sept, each iteration of it making the fire in your belly burn brighter and brighter.

He doesn’t attempt to stop you when you plunge a hand beneath the fabric of your black skirts and hastily tug your smallclothes out of the way, he merely studies you in awe, as if watching a newly hatched dragon spread its wings for the first time. His gaze makes you shiver, though you dare not look away.

“What do you care about, little one?” He murmurs suddenly, unable to help himself from glancing between your bodies, licking his lips while he watches you use your fingers to prepare yourself as you rub your own slick through your folds.

“You,” you whisper, shuddering at the way you both gasp at the same time when you rut against his already throbbing length, “You are the only god I’ve ever worshiped, big brother.”

A loud groan bursts free of his lips at that and the hunger in his eye nearly catches you alight, and yet he still grabs at your hips tightly, preventing you from sinking onto his length – so out of his element, wholly unused to being taken in such a way. “Come, let us go to my chambers,” he tries, breathing your name against your neck as he leans up, “Where I can take you properly, hm? No risk of anyone interrupting…”

Undeterred, you simply shake your head and lean forward, pressing your lips against his in an eager, near feral kiss. It’s mostly teeth and tongues and thankfully, it’s enough to shock him into loosening his grip, just enough for you to take what you want. You bite at his bottom lip when you sink down onto his length, hard enough to taste iron, making him growl into the kiss, the sound of it deepening to a low groan at the feel of your tight cunt around him.

The feel of his cock stretching you open somehow only gets better each time and leaves you gasping in his lap, your hands grabbing at his shoulders for leverage while you begin grinding yourself against him, impatient and ravenous. “Ohh, f-fuck,” you curse, squeezing your eyes shut while your walls flutter around him.

Aemond’s chest heaves under your hands while he stares up at you, lips parted ever so slightly as breathy groans spill, unbidden, from them. Opening your eyes, your gaze is immediately drawn to a little smear of red beside his mouth and you lean forward – licking his pale skin clean without a second thought.

“Little minx,” he smirks, meanly grabbing at your hips again and bucking up into you. He huffs a soft laugh at the sharp moan that bursts from you, sounding louder still in the large open space of the Sept; there’s a dangerous, challenging gleam in his eye that makes you shiver. “Go on, then,” he rasps, trailing a hand up from your hip to cup the underside of your breast, his touch warm even through the bodice of your gown, “Worship your god.”

A soft, stuttered moan wrenches itself from your lips at that and you quickly obey, staking your claim over him. As you find your rhythm, rutting wildly in his lap, the only sounds echoing off the walls are that of panted breaths and the slick, wet noises from where the two of you connect. “You’re mine,” you breathe, leaning forward to bite at his throat, determined to mark him in as many ways as possible, “Y-You’ve always been mine, Aemond.”

He nods his head, hands scrambling at the ties on your bodice, determined to free your breasts. “I’m yours?” He taunts, sighing victoriously when he finally manages to practically rip the top of your gown open; his tongue darts out, wetting his lips at the sight of them and he allows himself a few seconds to appreciate the way they bounce so enticingly with each of your determined movements, “Show me, then… show me who I belong to, sweet sister.”

Something snaps inside you then, breaking and clicking perfectly into place all in the same breath; the feeble thing that was holding the dam inside of you shut disappears. Whatever greedy darkness Aemond has always harbored within himself has been slowly seeping into you since the night of your betrothal feast and now, it seems, it has finally settled into your bones as well. It’s as if he can sense it in the same instance you do and gives a subtle nod of his head, commanding you to give in.

With renewed vigor, you grind against him harshly, pressing your hips as far down onto him as you can manage until you can feel his cock pressing against the entrance to your womb. The thought of him there, of the possibility of his seed catching, of the possibility that it may already have, spurs you on further.

“I would kill for you, too,” you say lowly through clenched teeth, licking up the side of his neck until you can whisper into his ear, “I’ll do anything to have you, my love, I don’t care what it is.”

A low groan reverberates from within his chest, both of you all but snarling as you move together; his hips rut up against yours, unable to hold still any longer, and he bites a path down your neck until he reaches the softness of your breasts. You gasp as he teases at one nipple, flicking at it with the tip of his tongue while his fingers toy with the other one, only to cut yourself off with a loud moan when his lips seal around it.

“I would burn this city to the fucking ground if that’s what… what it took, brother,” the words tumble from your lips when you card your fingers through his hair, cradling the back of his head and holding him against your chest. Your head tilts down, heart pounding in your chest while you watch him savor the feel of your warm flesh in his mouth; his violet eye snaps up and his gaze bores into yours, making your cunt clutch greedily at his length.

Feeling the knot building quickly in your belly, aided by the way your sensitive pearl brushes against the small patch of hair at the base of Aemond’s cock, you only grow more needy – craving confirmation that he is yours, that no one will be able to take him from you again. Your breath catches in your throat when you recall a conversation the two of you had had a few nights ago, the night of Jace’s death.

The two of you had been cuddled in your bed together, panting in sweat-damp sheets, when he had cupped your cheek and turned your face to his.

“What is it?” You asked, familiar with the faraway look in his eye – God’s knew where he could’ve been in that moment.

“Marry me.”

His whispered demand had knocked the air from your lungs then, the whole world may as well have come to a grinding halt on its axis. “Aemond, we must wait, you know this. I hate it as much as you do but –”

“We need to wait for a Westerosi wedding, yes,” he murmured, leaning over you and shushing you with a soft kiss, “Too soon and it looks suspicious.”

“But –”

“But… a wedding in the tradition of our house need not wait, little one,” the determination in his eye had shocked you then, had warmed you from the inside out, “Our sister and her cunt of a husband hardly waited until Laena and Laenor were cold before they married… we could do the same.”

You had stayed quiet after that, too much death and change and uncertainty clouding your mind to give him an answer, and yet you knew he was right. Rhaenyra and Daemon had married in secret, so soon after Laenor’s sudden passing that it had always seemed a bit odd to you. Yet, no one ever questioned it; your own father had accepted it without so much as a blink, writing the marriage into law with no fuss. Aegon would do the same for you, you felt certain.

Nothing was stopping you, nothing that mattered, anyway.

That thought fuels you now as you rock on Aemond’s lap, both of you barreling toward your eventual ends. Your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging him away from your breast despite his growl of displeasure. Just as he had with you, you cup his cheeks, focusing his attention on you.

“Marry me.”

The rhythm of his hips hitches at your words and he fucks up into you harshly, moving you more desperately against him as another loud, guttural moan echoes through the chamber.

“Tonight,” you continue, brows furrowing as you stare at him, greedily drinking him in, “I cannot wait any longer, brother, tonight, please…”

A vicious, conquering smirk grows on his lips, white teeth gleaming in the low candlelight like a snarling dog. “You wish to be mine, is that it?” He teases, reaching between your two writhing bodies to rub hungrily at your pearl, savoring the pretty breathy moans he earns.

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish speaking as an unrelenting, all consuming possessive ache starts spreading out from your heart, flowing through your blood vessels like fire. “I don’t wish it,” you pant, forehead resting against his while the wildfire burning in your belly threatens to burn you whole, “I told you, I would kill for you and… and, fuck, I swear it. A-Aemond, no one will have you ever again, never, none except me…”

Your words descend into a barely intelligible murmur as you finally let go, pushed suddenly over the edge at the thought of being so tightly bound together that no one would be able to tear the two of you apart again. Your brother growls again at the feel of your cunt pulsing around him, the movements spurring him toward his own end.

He grabs at you when he follows you into oblivion, holding you against him as if you’d disappear otherwise. The feel of his spend spilling into you, filling you, nearly sends you over the edge again and you cling to him just as harshly, holding him while he trembles beneath you.

“You are a vicious little thing,” he says softly after some minutes, holding you against his chest while the two of you catch your breaths.

“I learned from the best.”

He only sighs at that but you don’t need to look at him to know he’s smiling. “I would do it again for you,” he mumbles, eye fixed on Jace, “I would do it a thousand times over.”

He speaks in a reverent whisper, promises of death and destruction as sweet as a prayer on his lips.

Aemond’s hand is warm in yours as he leads you through the winding corridors below the Red Keep, the flickering light from the torches lining the walls making the various statues and reliefs dance in your periphery.

“I’ve always hated that he’s down here, stowed away,” he murmurs, yet his voice still carries some among the stone hallways.

“Mm,” you hum in agreement, glancing into each shadowy alcove you come across while you try to ignore the wild beating in your chest – the way your heart clenches at the thought of finally being so close to what you’ve always wanted. “Yes, he should be out in the sun, somewhere he can be celebrated.”

The old cellars under the Keep have always seemed so haunting to you, so cold and empty. The thought of the walls down here being lined with the ashen remains of generations upon generations of your ancestors had never failed to send a shiver down your spine. Yet, they unfold before you now like paradise; even the still, musty air begins to smell as sweet as honeyed wine.

For the briefest of seconds, guilt joins you – walks alongside you, invisible like the Stranger. A stuttered heartbeat, that’s all and then it’s gone, at the thought that Jace would join them tomorrow, still warm from Vermax’s fire.

How ironic, you think, glancing up at your brother and admiring the way the light gleams on his sapphire eye, That a place that holds so much death would be where our lives finally begin.

“I don’t want to wait any longer,” you’d said again, retying your bodice while Aemond tucked himself back into his trousers and searched for his eyepatch.

“Nor do I,” he agreed, stuffing the small scrap of fabric into a pocket – the streets of King’s Landing would be deserted enough at this time of night that he could get away without wearing it. “Tensions are bound to rise after tomorrow, after everything is said and done; I don’t want to leave anything to chance.”

You had nodded and followed him out of the Sept, through one of the many old, forgotten tunnels that only a scant few knew existed, the list of which definitely didn’t include the guards stationed at the front of the building who had escorted your carriage earlier that evening.

While he had helped you onto the back of his horse, the two of you shared a knowing look, each of you already thinking the same thing.

Turning down one final corridor, your heart thuds in your chest as you’re finally met with Balerion’s petrifying gaze and, just like every other time you’d been in his presence, a little huff of reverence leaves you. Your eyes dance over the rows of his razor sharp teeth, gleaming in the glow of dozens of candles, and you can’t help but imagine the horrors those jaws have inflicted, the pain they wrought while subduing the continent – all in your family’s name.

“Targaryens have always taken what we’ve wanted,” Aemond murmurs beside you, staring up at the gargantuan skull with just as much respect as you are, “Tamed our desires in fields of fire.”

“And rivers of blood,” you turn your heads at the same time, soft smiles on your lips when your eyes meet, like you’re sharing sweet words of love rather than painting pictures of horrors.

Perhaps that is what wrath is for us, you wonder, your eyes flicking between violet and sapphire when you turn toward your brother, What is death if not the sweetest of devotions?

He takes your hands in his, glancing down when your fingers intertwine before looking back up at you; you can feel yourself blushing under his intense gaze, heart squeezing in your chest as he looks at you like that in and of itself is an honor. There’s such softness in his eye, you would think him incapable of violence if you didn’t know better.

“You truly wish for this?” He questions one last time, needing to be sure.

“I’ve told you, I do not wish,” your hands squeeze his, “I need this, Aemond… I would kill for you, for this – for us. Anything, just as you did.”

Your voice trembles when you speak, the intensity of your hushed promises making your head spin because you would. The want you feel, that you have always felt, is not some soft yearning thing. It’s not so simple as some mere whisper uttered in the dead of night at a holy altar while your skin is awash with the glow of candlelight, no.

No, your want is something far more insidious – something deep-seated. An oppressive, clinging thing that has always coaxed you further and further down into that shadowy part of yourself; the part that has always reminded you too much of him.

The demon, lurking in your periphery, that has always begged you to look, has tempted you since childhood with the sweetest of promises, finally rejoices.

Aemond nods, a satisfied smile pulling at the corner of his lips, and you watch as he lets go of one of your hands to unsheath his dagger. The sight of the worn leather handle makes you smile bashfully, though your core clenches all the same, and you gasp when you feel another drop of his seed soak into your smallclothes.

“You know the words?”

Again, he nods and your head cocks to the side curiously when a wash of pink grows on his pale cheeks; he smiles again and fixes you with that same intense stare. “I used to spend hours reading them, over and over, when we were children,” he whispers, leaning closer to you like he’s revealing some deep, dark secret, “I always wanted to get them perfect for you.”

A little peal of laughter echoes through the cellars before you swallow thickly, trying to tamper the tightness at the back of your throat as the backs of your eyes sting, tears pooling in your waterline. He cups your cheek and you smile when he brushes one away, a pleased hum leaves his lips when you nod.

Aemond raises the dagger, glancing between its shining blade and your lips while you ready yourself, one hand clenching at the black silk of your skirts. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises.

You hold stock-still, gasping when he presses the cool edge of it against your lower lip, yet your eyes don’t leave his when he finally cuts – nicking your delicate flesh just enough to draw blood before offering you the dagger. Grasping it, you mirror his steps exactly, just as careful with him.

Setting the dagger to the side, you both reach up at the same time, swiping a thumb over your own lip before reaching out. Your arms intertwine when you brush each other’s foreheads, leaving behind two crimson lines.

His gaze never breaks from yours as he takes the blade again and carefully cuts his palm, holding it out to you again and waiting while you do the same, gasping at the sharp sting. Finally, the two of you join hands, blood mingling together as a few drops of it splatter on the stone floor as Balerion bears witness to your union.

“Hen lantoti ānogar, va syndroti vāedroma, mēro perzot gīhoti, elēdroma iārza sīr,” he recites, murmuring the words with care, making sure to enunciate each syllable, to make the vows unmistakeable to whichever ghosts may be listening, “Izulī ampā perzī, prūmī lanti sēteksi, hen jeny māzīlarion,” (Blood of two, joined as one, ghostly flame, and song of shadows. Two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires, a future promised in glass.)

Aemond pauses, taking a breath as he squeezes your hand with his, echoing your smile.

“Qēlossa ozūndesi, syndroro ōñō jēdo, ry kīvia mazvestraksi,” he finishes, all but breathing the last few words as his eye grows misty. (The stars stand witness, the vow spoken through time, of darkness and light.)

The two of you stand still for a moment like you’re waiting for the world to crash down around you and you can feel his heart beating in time with yours as your palms press together, both of you seemingly in shock at finally, finally having everything you’ve ever wanted.

You can’t tell who moves first but suddenly you’re crashing against him, dagger clanging as it hits the floor, while the two of you clutch at one another desperately, uncaring of the blood smearing on your clothes.

Your lips press against his like they’re a lifeline and you moan at the touch, swiping your tongue over his while you grab at the lapels of his jacket. His hands cup your cheeks, staining one with red, before carding through your hair.

“Gods,” he groans, resting his forehead against yours while the two of you pant, breathing out soft laughs. “My little wife…” He says the word slowly, lets it drag over his tongue.

“Husband,” you reply between soft kisses to his cheek, head spinning at how a word that once had to be dragged from you, that had scraped against your skin like thorns, now felt like silk slipping cooly over you.

Your brother growls deep in his chest and his eye flutters shut for a second before his hands are at your waist again and he’s walking you backwards, only a few paces, until you’re pressed against one of the stone columns surrounding the great dragon’s skull. Though your landing is soft, it wrenches a gasp from you all the same but you don’t have time to question his intent before his lips are on yours again.

You moan into the kiss, matching each of his deep groans with one of your own as your tongues tangle together. “Aemond,” you pant when he begins trailing kisses down across your jaw and neck, “What –”

He nips at your cleavage then and you can feel him smirking at the loud whine he pulls from you, soothing the skin after with a sweet kiss before sinking to his knees before you. The sight is enough to make you weak – the man that loves you more than eternity itself, who loves you enough to do terrible, monstrous things, kneeling at your feet and staring up at you like you are his salvation.

Your hands tangle in his soft hair while he pulls at your skirts, pushing them up and out of the way, kissing your thighs as he goes. “You had the chance to worship at your altar, sweetest little wife,” he pants, groaning when he pushes your smallclothes to the side and licking his lips at the sight of your cunt, still wet with your combined spend, “Now let me worship at mine.”

That’s the only warning you get before he dives in, lapping at your center with a loud, satiated growl. Your head thuds back against the column while your eyes are fixed, half-lidded, on Balerion, on the fire that surrounds him.

You understand, then – the curtains of fire that blanketed the continent were necessary to conquer it, just as blood was necessary to bind the two of you. Perhaps one day you’ll be called to answer for that, but even then you would do it a thousand times over; even if the dark, shadowy parts of yourself, of him, lead to the deepest pits of the Seven Hells. You would do it, again and again, for him.

You were always meant to burn together.

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

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irrevocableloves · 1 month

Text

gold rush

cedric diggory x fem!hufflepuff!reader

taylor swift series: part one

⊹ ‧₊˚ ౨ৎ masterlist ₊ ⊹

summary: everybody wants him, everybody wonders what it would be like to love him, but he loves you. (inspired by taylor swift’s gold rush!!!)

warnings: lil bit of angst, self-pity, mentions of alcohol, FLUFF <3

words: 1.8k

what must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

cedric diggory. the prefect of hufflepuff. the captain of the hufflepuff quidditch team. your best friend. but that was all he was... a friend.

the secret you bore that you had fallen in love with him along the way of your friendship had burned a hole into your heart, believing that deep down that he was never destined to fall for you.

sure, you'd hoped things would slowly work out in your favor. but in your eyes, it didn't seem very likely.

but to (almost) everyone else, his eyes were only on you.

everyone knew from the moment you and cedric were seen running around the halls together on the first day you were both sorted into hufflepuff that the two of you were completely enamored with one another. it could be seen in many other ways throughout the years.

cedric was a gentleman to everyone of course, but to you? he was an absolute angel. the way he'd listen to every word you had to say even if it was the most ridiculous, hold your books for you in between classes, skip his classes and take care of you if you were sick, just the way he looked at you… you swore the glint in his eyes had felt so much different. but you’d also considered that you’ve just gone completely mad…

you noticed his gestures of course, but you thought that was just cedric's nature. he was a hufflepuff wasn't he? well, he was practically the face of hufflepuff. at hogwarts, mostly everyone wasn't 100% of their house, but you were convinced cedric was the only true hufflepuff.

the girls hoarding around cedric never helped, but you never noticed the way he acted around them. uncomfortable. and not so much entertaining them, but more-so feeling guilty for them (and also because he's a a major pushover).

with the tri-wizard competition and with cedric as a champion, the crowds piled around him. not just girls, but hufflepuffs who wanted to bash around in his glory.

you missed him. you didn't even want him to put his name in the stupid goblet to begin with, but you couldn’t bare the look of disappointment on his face when you didn’t approve of it. he thought the world of you. he wanted to do this for you, to prove that he could finally make the house you shared worthy of the limelight, to make him worth of you…. but you didn’t know that yet.

but now, every chance you had to spend with him was always ruined by the crowds stealing him away. everyday for a week since then he’d been pulled away from you. his usual spot next to you in the great hall remained empty and no one else had come to claim it, your friends knowing it was his spot. well other people tried… like when ernie didn’t make it time to be cedric’s little side-kick, he’d try to squeeze himself in beside you, but everyone hollered him off when you didn’t have the heart to.

you’d seen cedric make the effort. every single time he did, but he would be pulled away by his growing posse. sometimes you’d just wish you were able to scream, yell, or even simply ask him to stay loud enough to be heard over the boys and their banter, but alas, it never worked in your favor. you also wished that he would tell his friends that he wanted to stay back and just have at least one second with you. just one conversation. but every time he managed to get out a word of retort, his cheeks had gone so red and his voice in a fit of stutters that he’d just let his growing group lead him elsewhere.

you noticed the girls. of course you did. how could you not?

it’s not like girls had never craved the attention of cedric diggory, but after his name shot out of goblet of fire, it’d almost been too much for you.

the girls, especially those from beauxbatons, stared and erupted giggles every time he’d passed by and sent glares at you whenever he’d try and stop to talk to you, but those were always quickly interrupted by his herd of new friends. even anthony, his bestest friend, had grown tired of the crowds and relinquished back to his normal spot the great hall, matching your sighs whenever you’d hear the crowd boast over him.

one night, when you had just managed to finish hours worth of work on a history of magic paper, once you were satisfied, you let yourself bury into the covers of your bed. it was a friday night and there was a party in the hufflepuff common room to celebrate cedric once again, but you were exhausted. you’d purposefully planned to be cooped up in your room all night while the rest of your school mates partied away. no one would miss me surely.

knock knock.

you were tempted to just lay there, pretend you were asleep in hopes they would leave you to your solitude, but the fits of knocks didn’t stop and they soon turned to mutters that would make your heart almost stop completely.

“y/n? y/n/n? you awake?” cedric. even in his slightly drunken state, he was soft-spoken, only gently knocking and whispering in case you hadn’t been awake.

any other time, you would’ve gotten up immediately. but after this week, you were hesitant. it wasn’t his fault. really, it wasn’t. you couldn’t help the built up insecurities and the fact that cedric didn’t have time for you anymore. he always did before, but this time, there was just too much in the way, too many people watching his every move and wanting every bit of attention just as you did.

just as you were sure he’d left, you heard a soft huff and an odd noise hitting your door.

when you finally made your way to open the door, you slid it open gently, seeing cedric leaning up against it, sliding alongside it while you cracked it open.

you gasped at the site, grabbing cedric’s hand with the two of yours and hauling him up. “ced?” you grunted, struggling as you pulled him. “why are you here?”

“wanted to see you.” his cheeks were flushed red. he’d been drinking. not quite a lot. you knew when he’d gotten to his breaking point. right now, he’d only had a couple shots in fire whiskey him, otherwise he would’ve been completely knocked out and unintelligible. “why didn’t you come down?”

his speech was hardly slurred, he just seemed really tired.

“um…” the paper excuse sounded lame. were you really holing yourself up in your dorm all because a boy hadn’t given you his undivided attention? that excuse would never hear the light of day, but even then, you knew it was pathetic. “was tired…” now that was even more pathetic.

you sat over on your four poster bed and he followed in suit, but instead of sitting, he fiddled with the curtains, as if he’d seemed more interested in the velvet fabric than you. no. he was distracting himself. he was just as nervous as you were.

your eyes went to his, then to your twiddling hands. a moment of silence had aired throughout your dorm. then you felt a dip on your bed.

“y/n/n ‘m sorry.” you looked up, his cheeks reaching even deeper level of pink. once your eyes met his, he was a stuttering mess. “it’s just—the tournament. i-i know you didn’t want me doing it and-and i don’t know i didn’t think i’d really get picked you know? then…” he made an explosion sound with his mouth and you struggled not to stifle up a giggle. you loved when he was so nervous that he just rambled on to no end and you didn’t dare to stop him just yet.

he continued on, “and i just got caught up in it? like i’d won a quidditch match, but times a hundred. maybe a thousand? and-and i didn’t want to disappoint anyone… even if the crowds are a lot. overwhelms me a bit… just wanted to hang out with you.” you looked up at him, debating whether to speak up yet. you didn’t.

“merlin, i feel horrible…” he got up from your bed and started pacing around your room. “you didn’t even want me to put my name in that cup to begin with, but my dad… he’d sounded so proud in his letter when i told him about it. i couldn’t let him down. but then you… i shouldn’t have put in.”

he continued on, “i just thought… that perhaps… i could make your proud. you always talk about how hufflepuff gets no recognition.”

me? but why?

“and i know that you didn’t even want me entering the stupid thing in the first place… but i didn’t wanna let you down.” he huffed, finally sitting back down, his fingers still fidgeting.

“you could never do that.” you simply said. it was true. there was nothing he could do that would ever disappoint you. it was quite infuriating.

“i feel like i-i already have.” that’s when you placed your hand on his, grasping his fingers to stop his nerves.

“it’s not your fault.” it really wasn’t. but you struggled to find the words as to why as you found as fingers playing with your own.

“it is. the crowds… i wanted to tell them to shove off, but i just didn’t wanna let anyone down. it’s stupid…” one of his hands found its way to his hair, tending to one of his nasty habits. once he nervously pulled at his hair and squinted his eyes shut, you finally found the words.

“it’s my fault too.” you said, he shook his head in defense. “no. i mean… i know how overwhelmed you get and i feel terrible for not realizing that soon enough. look at you! you’re a mess and i-i wish i could’ve been there. but the crowd and the people and i just-i just thought..” you felt even embarrassed to say it out loud. “you didn’t need me anymore.” you finally let out.

you could feel his eyes on you. that’s when he used his other hand to lift up your chin, bringing your wandering eyes up to his.

“i’ll always need you. look at where i’m at without you.” he chuckled, his cheeks flushing an even brighter red.

“yeah… drunk and crawling up the girl’s dormitory stairs.” you giggled. “how’d you even manage the counter-spell?”

his eyebrows furrowed, a look of confusion on his face. “i don’t quite remember…?”

“you’re not even that drunk!”

“and how do you know that?” he challenged.

“well, first of all, you managed to make it all the way up here. and second, you’re not completely incoherent.”

“yeah…” he admitted. “party’s no fun without you. i’d much rather stay here with you.” your cheeks reddened.

“well, then stay. i’ll make you a tea.” you were surprised you didn’t make a complete mess of your words.

you swiftly got up off your bed, grabbing a mug from your shelf and then a kettle, using aguamenti and then a simple water-heating charm afterwards.

“chamomile and honey?”

a/n: anyone up for a part two???? he was a lil drunk so i didn’t feel comfortable about any confessions and kissing </3 BUT I DO HAVE IDEAS FOR MORE SOOO !!!

tags: @measure-in-pain @brekkers-whore @rejectedbimbo @leilanileila @anothercoffeeblogx @cevans-winchester @trawberry-fire @nephilimsss @itszzmoon @astrovampie @cryingoverfictionalmen @boxofbadsenses @ttnaanj @iheartprettygurls @aoi-targaryen @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mystifiedgrace @ladybirdbeetle7 @celi-xxmoon (i don’t rmr how many of u wanted to be tagged for cedric </3)

taglist ₊˚⊹♡

#cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x female reader #harry potter #cedric diggory fanfiction #goblet of fire #robert pattinson #robert pattinson x reader

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dracoxmalereader · 7 months

Text

All at Once

Draco x Male Reader

Context: Takes place in Goblet of Fire, after the Triwizard Tournament but before the school year ended. Reader is a fifth year ravenclaw, so a year above Draco.

Summary: Draco wasn't the kind of guy to fall in love, much less at first sight, much less while serving detention in the potions classroom over missing assignments.

Part 2/Sequel

Word Count: 1009

Your tie was half undone, the blue collar of your robes lazily draped around your shoulders. You were clearly having a difficult time. Draco, who’d been bitterly scribbling answers to his overdue homework papers, couldn’t help but take notice each time you haphazardly sorted through the many phials of ingredients you had scattered around the table.

He didn’t know your name, only vaguely recognizing you as one of the few cellists he’d seen performing at the Yule Ball. Better than being in that insufferable frog choir, he supposed. Seated next to you, he figured you must’ve been there for blowing something up in class, what with the way your cauldron angrily bubbled with each incorrect addition to the potion brewing in it.

He begrudgingly made his way down one page of his work before moving to another, looking back up to watch you fail at your own task more often than he’d like to admit. You were pleasant to watch, and something in him fluttered every time he saw your fingers twitch in hesitation before pouring something new into your cauldron.

You were making a potion he didn’t recognize, one that looked similar to a calming draught, and as far as he could tell your textbook was less than telling on how to make it correctly. ‘Typical’ He thought to himself, ‘Those things are impossible to read.’

He snorted, amused.

“Something funny, Malfoy?” You whispered to him. Your head cocked to the side, your eyes staring holes into his when they met. Draco’s stomach churned, and it felt like the breath had been stolen from his lungs. For a moment, he forgot how to talk.

“Uh… what?” He mentally cursed himself for stumbling over his words, unsure of what to say with your piercing gaze still locked onto his. He hadn’t expected you to notice him watching you, let alone call him out by name. A part of him was inexplicably happy that you knew who he was.

“Do you have a penchant for watching upperclassmen mess up?” You hissed, one brow quirked up and a scowl worked its way onto your face.

He itched to snark in retaliation like he would with anyone else, the words dying before they reached his throat. His tongue felt dry and he opened and closed his mouth dumbly, ultimately remaining silent.

“You’re lucky I don’t tip this cauldron onto your lap.” You shook your head before turning back down to stare at the page you still couldn’t seem to understand.

Draco wasn’t used to it, to people speaking so crudely to him. Had it been anyone else, had it been someone like Potter, Draco would’ve had their name climbing his father’s shit list within the hour. Something about you, though, told him he really didn’t want that. Something that made him unable to tear his watchful eyes away, something that made his chest throb uncomfortably.

His mind lingered on you, on your calloused hands, on the way your lips pursed when you scowled at him. His mind lingered on the Yule Ball, how those calloused hands would have felt in his if you’d danced together, how your pursed lips would have felt if you’d-

Oh. Oh.

All at once, Draco’s thoughts turned to a scattered blur. His heart thudded in his chest, the rhythm almost drowning out the blood rushing through his ears. His breathing slowed and he felt his face heat up. He watched you blink, jealous that your eyelashes were touching your face and he wasn’t.

Draco wasn’t the kind of guy to fall in love. As the years progressed, people fell into couplings around him like puzzle pieces locking into place, and never once had Draco taken interest. Unlike the people around him, he had no crushes. No crushes, no ‘type’, no girls that caught his eye, not one. He’d taken Pansy to the Yule Ball as a friend, and done his best to let her down easy when she thought it’d been more.

Here, serving detention in the potions classroom watching you fumble your way through a tedious potion, suddenly it was all making sense to him. Your jaw clenching from stress, your throat bobbing over a dry swallow, your shoulders and chest broad and so distinctly masculine.

Butterflies burst in his chest, and his throat ached in endearment. Draco wasn’t the kind of guy to fall in love, much less at first sight, but there he was.

“Do…” He started, probably a bit too loud, sensations exploding behind his ribcage when your eyes met his again. “Do you want help? I’m, uh, I’m really good at potions.”

“Detention is not time for making friends, Mr. Malfoy.” Snape spoke up from the desk at the front of the room, breaking both of you out of conversation for a moment. He looked at Snape and nodded, face flushing in embarrassment before he looked back at you.

Your mouth hung open with an unspoken response before closing, presumably to avoid angering the professor. You blinked at Draco, another wave of feeling washing over him. Images flashed through his brain, and all he could think was how badly he wished he could run his thumbs along the underside of your eyes and feel your boyish lashes fan against his nails. You scooted to the side, allowing room for him to get closer to your cauldron and book.

Your shoulders brushed together as he helped you, and he felt like a whole new man. His pulse thundered in his ears and he could feel sweat collecting in his palms. Part of him was afraid you were a Legilimens, because if you'd read his mind right then and there all you would have seen was yourself in wedding attire at a banquet with his extended family.

There, going through the motions of learning the potion you were working on and breaking it down for you in whispers, it was a miracle he could focus at all past the juvenile thoughts racing through his mind of spending the rest of his life with you.

Based on this tweet:

I am a down bad Draco truther ✊ let me know if there are typos pls. <3

#draco malfoy imagine #draco x male reader #draco malfoy x male reader #draco x reader #tagging is hard #draco malfoy #harry potter fandom #draco malfoy x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you

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mslanna · 3 months

Note

Raphael reacting to his little mouse, who refuses to sign a contract that binds their soul to him, bowing or kneeling before him, taking one of his hands (for a moment he thinks - or maybe hopes - that they will place a kiss on the back of his hand), and declaring their allegiance to him, swearing to fight for and defend him with their life if need be. "I am already bound to you. No contract required." That is when he finally, finally recognizes the way they look at him, that it is with love and adoration but tinged with the belief that it will never be reciprocated, because it is how he gazes at them when nobody is looking.

No Deal

Also up on AO3

As a small favour, the Crown of Karsus fell into the Chionthar when Tav defeated the Netherbrain. It gave Raphael time to consider what offer to make when they came to deliver it. His little mouse proved to be quite capable, even more so than he had expected. It was time to bind them to him. Forever.

All he had to do was arrange the offer perfectly. If he said forever, he meant it. Tav would not die in his service. And as a result, their soul would never be forfeit. A prefect setup for his wary paladin. In return, well in return Tav would stay by his side, fight with him, rule with him. And in the long run – be his entirely.

The meeting was planned to the last. Not in the House of Hope where his debtors – or worse incubus – might interfere. Raphael prepared the room he rented in Sharess' Caress. Tav spoke up about the rose petals last they met. There would be rose petals again – plenty and fragrant.

Wine of similar qualities, of a dark red that lay in the goblets like thick velvet. A choice of chocolates, pastries, and savoury snacks. It looked like a seduction but if that was what it took to seal a deal with his mouse, Raphael would. His. The word echoed in his mind. A promise. A future.

Korrilla kept an eyes on Tav while they searched the river for his prize. She let him know immediately when Tav found is and Raphael was ready. He checked his new outfit in the mirror a last time. Black and red – a true prince of the hells. Soon to be king. All that was missing in his perfect future was the crown and companion.

Both walked through his door mere moments later. Raphael's prefect vision dissolved, pooling at Tav's feet with the water dripping from their clothes and hair. They hadn't even stopped to dry themself. As undignified as Tav looked, the fact they could not wait to present him his prize filled Raphael with pride.

"Come in," he gestured with half a bow.

Tav looked around, acutely aware of the dirty river water they trailed behind. They avoided the rose petals as if the water would hurt them. Raphael smiled to himself. Such consideration. Soon to be all his.

With an apologetic smile, Tav raised the crown in his direction. "Sorry for being late. The river…" The sentence trailed off.

"No need for apologies. You are true to your words as I knew you would be." He smiled, a reassuring sight on his human form. "And I appreciate your efforts and – eagerness to present their success. Your success and mine." He lowered his voice.

The effect on Tav was unmistakable. They tensed and shrunk back a little. Not what he had hoped for, but he'd work with it. "Maybe you want to clean and warm up before we continue?" He gestured at the pool behind him, heating the water with a wave of his hand.

Tav froze on the spot and fire rushed into their cheeks.

"Ah, human shame." Raphael shook his head slightly. "What an interesting, if useless, concept. I can leave you to it. No need to be uncomfortable."

Surprisingly, Tav did not jump at the opportunity. After a few moments watching the mortal stutter and writhe Raphael had mercy. "Have it your way. Come," he beckoned them, "let us fulfil the deal."

Slowly Tav crossed the room. Raphael smelled the filth of the river on them. This was a lot less glamorous than his plans, Still, when his mouse stopped before him, Raphael bent his knee and offer his head. This, at least, he would have.

After a short hesitation, Tav raised the crown and placed it gently on his head. The weight settled reassuringly on his head and Raphael felt the power coursing through it. Half his perfect future secured. He opened his eyes and met Tav's gaze – thoughtful and soft. A hint of sadness hanging back, almost obscured by their smile.

"Join me." Raphael took Tav's hand as he rose. "Join me and my victorious rule over the nine hells."

Tav blinked but didn't pull their hand away. "You – want me to stick around?"

The uncertainty in their voice wounded Raphael. He had been open about his appreciation, had he not? Generous with praise and lavish in his offers. "You have proven yourself invaluable, have you not? And I would hate to lose my favourite client."

"Oh." Something changed in the way Tav held themself.

Raphael pressed on, unwilling to lose the momentum and, with it, his little mouse. "There is no need for us to part ways. I have need of capable hands like yours. Loyalty like yours," he added quickly to stop the sagging of their shoulders. "There is none to be had in the hells, but you, little mouse," Raphael took their chin between his fingers, "you I trust."

Colour returned to Tav's cheeks as they cast down their eyes. "A bodyguard? A counsellor?"

"All that and more." He nudged Tav's face to make them look at him. "Immortality in my service for the price of your soul."

Tav didn't answer, didn't move.

Raphael conjured the contract. "You cannot die in my service, but only if you do, your soul is mine. We work together. Forever."

Finally, Tav retracted their hand from his grip. Their eyes searched his face but didn't seem to find what they were looking for. With a sigh, they sank to their knees, taking his hand as he had done before. "I don't need a contract, Raphael. I am yours to command, to fight or defend, with all my prowess and needs be with my life."

Taken aback, Raphael stared down at the mortal. This was unexpected and he didn't deal in the unexpected. He was a devil of the most cunning kind. He held all the cards. He pulled out the rug under his counterparts.

But Tav looked up, eyes deep and dark. A gentle resignation swimming under the intense gaze. "I am bound to you already, Raphael. No contract required." Tav smiled sadly. "No contract desired."

"What is it your desire?" Raphael's heart skipped when Tav gazed down at his hand shortly. But only their eyes alighted on it. Regrettably. And now, that his little mortal looked up at him again, he recognised the resignation for what it was. The stumbling, the hesitation, the stuttering faced with him.

Not fear, not even reluctance. Tav didn't even struggle with their feelings for him but the knowledge that their one-sided affection would doom them. And that they wouldn't mind. Tav's answer needed no words, so intense was their gaze. Raphael smiled, more than victory burning in his veins.

He pulled Tav upright, cradling their hand in his and pressing a soft kiss onto its back. "Say no more." The contract vanished in a flash of hellfire. His. Without a contract. Bound by forces the hells could never combat. Ready to be devoured, if only they were not covered in filthy river water.

Raphael took a step back and looked his mouse over. Still dripping. Still smelly. But now lit from within by fires hotter than Avernus. His. He growled another kiss over Tav's hand before letting go.

"Still, I will not have you die in my service." He placed his hand over Tav's heart and head, anchoring the magic in their body. The mortal shivered under his touch, a temptation and a promise. Raphael smiled. His. It was a good day to start his future as archdevil supreme.

"I – I think I'll have that bath now," Tav sighed, exhaustion overpowering them.

"As you wish." With a snap of his fingers Raphael heated the water again and floated wine and food to the side of the pool. "Let me know when you are done."

"Oh, I think you will now when I'm done." Tav grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the steaming water.

#bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #bg3 fanfiction #sleazy second-hand car dealer #mel writes fanfic #writing prompt #anon answered

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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 7 months

Text

All The Things Love Could Be

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 671 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: Astarion trying to be manipulative, waltzing, drinking, soft Astarion, brief mention of Cazador

--------------

“On my honor, the only thing on my mind is depraved carnal lust.” Astarion said with confidence.

You smiled softly, “Liar.”

Astarions face dropped, “Excuse me?”

He sounded offended.

You softly took two goblets from the table and gingerly poured a sweet red wine for you both.

“I think you forget these tadpoles connect us. I know you use sex as a manipulative tactic… but I also know that’s not your fault. I’m so sorry Cazador used you like that… for so long.” you said, passing one of the goblets to Astarion before taking a swig of your own. “Don’t get me wrong, you are beautiful, and I can’t deny the feelings I have for you, but I won’t use you. Not like that, not ever. If you want something you need but ask, you don’t have to repay me using sex. You don’t have to repay me period. Helping you makes me happy, that’s all I need.”

You looked into Astarion’s eyes and they were so soft, looking closer you could see tears brimming in his eyes. He was speechless, a rare thing for him to be.

You smiled at him softly, stepping closer to him. He looked down at you, tears finally falling. You raised your hand to his face, gently brushing the tears away with your thumb before tilting his chin up ever so slightly so his eyes met yours. He searched your gaze before letting out a cough. Staggering back, he let his hand caress your arm until it softly held your hand. You gave it a soft squeeze, letting him know you were there for him.

“I don’t recall the last time somebody turned me down for sex.” He paused, “I… um… thank you.” he said with an air of disbelief about him. He regained his seductive facade in no time. Turning away from you and sauntering off into the depths of the tiefling party. You watched him go.

-----------------

The night dragged on and sleep eluded you. Only a few remained awake at this hour. The drunk bard continued to play soft melodies. You sat near the fire, watching the flames dance and sputter, crackling with life. Astarion sat next to you gently, you hadn’t even heard him walk up.

“Hey.” you said softly, unsure how he would be around you after what you said earlier.

“Hello little love.” he said, sounding surprisingly sincere.

You started swaying back and forth, the bard played a waltz you knew all too well. You may not have been royalty before this ordeal but you were… highly refined for your station as a lower noble. Your parents insisted. Astarion chuckled watching you. He set his bottle of wine down, standing. He bowed before offering you his hand. Your eyes gleamed, you had missed this bit of normalcy. Astarion danced you around slowly, gently. A dance with a well acquainted partner was always easy and smooth. He spun you away from him before pulling you back and dipping you. The music faded and your little moment with it. He pulled you back so you were standing. He kissed the back of your hand.

“Thank you for the lovely dance.” you said, smiling widely. You hesitated for a moment before throwing caution to the wind. Your hands rested on his shoulders as you gave him a brief peck on the cheek.

“Thank you… for everything.” he said, his round eyes making a rare appearance. He walked you to your tent, holding your hand the whole way. “Goodnight little love, sleep well.” he squeezed your hand before walking to his own tent.

You smiled as you settled in for the night. You could never hurt him, but maybe you could show him love didn’t have to be rough. It didn’t have to be lust and self degradation. It could be sweet. It could be kind and gentle. You wanted to show him, and in time, if he consented to it - you would be happy to show him all the things love could be.

--------------

Naboo's Note:

In the mood to write dribbles today I guess. I hope you guys like them and as always - thank you so much for the likes, comments, reblogs, and requests! Ilysm <3 xoxoxoxo

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asumofwords · 1 year

Text

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Is Aemond showing restraint? Or is something more sinister coming…

Chapter 17: A Dance

The day faded quickly into the evening, the sky turning a lovely shade of pink. You sat next to your aunt, having moved to Aegon’s seat when he loudly professed to the table that he needed “to piss”. You listened to her talk about the beetle in her hands, its shining green shell glistening from the pink sky.

In this moment it felt like you were a child again, sitting with your aunt in peace as she spoke of the creatures in her palm. You never quite had an interest for the insects like hers, but anytime spent with her was enjoyable.

Princess Helaena was for the most part, a quiet girl grown into an even quieter woman. Aegon as a child would mock and tease her, calling her stupid and weird, and that same opinion was shared in the court.

Alicent never quite bonded with her daughter, frustration often rolling off of her in waves when she would spot the young girl alone with a spider in hand. The Queen simply did not understand her daughter, and for what you suspected was little attempts, Alicent could not bond with the girl.

The Hightower's detachment to her own children, paired with Viserys ailing health, could explain a number of issues between her two sons behaviour. Though you guessed some of their ways were more nature than nurture.

Otto Hightower was their grandfather, a cold and calculating man willing to sacrifice his young daughter to an older man for a chance to be closer to the throne, and Alicent had a tenancy for vicious rage, outbursts of emotions that had been bottled up until she erupted. Their demeanour seemed to be inherited by blood.

And yet, for all Alicent's failings of being a parent, and your Grandsires absence due to ill health, Helaena was an anomaly. Her sweet disposition and gentle heart surprised you at times. How could a rose like herself grow in such a garden of weeds?

Your brothers had a warm glow to their faces, likely from the ale, and your mothers smile had gotten wider. Even your father Daemon seemed to have relaxed, even if only slightly.

Your Grandsire however looked gaunt, his skin pale and almost lifeless, the sores on his body, seemingly getting bigger. He sat slumped in his chair, face half covered by the gold mask, and although you could tell it caused him great pain to be there, he still sat with you all. His smile, often looking like a grimace, was something that you had missed dearly.

Music played loudly from the men who strummed their instruments, the tone joyous and light. And now that ale and wine had been poured heavily into the bellies of the Lords and Ladies of the court, many were standing to dance in the open space, whilst those who sat and watched clapped and laughed, spilling glee into the atmosphere.

Jacaerys and Lucerys took Rhaena and Baela to dance, and you smiled and clapped alongside your aunt as you both watched. Even your uncle Aemond watched on, sipping from his goblet, stiff backed as always, but a slight blush on his cheeks.

The beetle on the table suddenly spread its iridescent green wings and flew off into the sky, buzzing around to find the perfect place in the garden to rest before nightfall. Princess Helaena tipped her goblet up to her lips and took a long sip, drinking the entire cup empty before standing, looking down at you with a wide smile.

“Let us dance!” She yelled, swiftly grabbing your hand and pulling you to stand.

You laughed at her enthusiasm, the wine making her more childlike with excitement and far more relaxed than before. You let her drag you down from the table to the space below, spinning to face each other before bowing. You lined up with the other guests who began to walk around each other, hands coming to meet in the centre before walking back around.

“It's better when he is gone!” She yelled over the music into your ear. You widened your eyes at her, a not so subtle ‘lower your voice’ to which she laughed louder at.

“I wish we could dance every day,” She giggled, “If I was ever Queen, I would make a day to dance every week!” You laughed alongside her, linking your arms together as you walked to swap partners with those next to you.

“If you were Queen the throne would be made of bugs, not swords.” You joked, as you linked arms with the man in front of you, leaning towards your aunt as you were both spun by your partners, laughing loudly at the prospect.

“It's a good thing that neither of us shall be Queens then!” She joked, and you huffed a laugh, a small sting settling in your chest. Coming to stop in front of a Lord, you bowed before raising your hands to touch one another.

He was a very tall and dashing man, older than your uncles but younger than your father. He had shoulder length blonde hair, and an air of arrogance around him. Although he was a handsome man, he had an air of arrogance surrounding him. If he was less cocky, perhaps you would take him to bed.

As he bowed to you he spoke.

“Princess Y/n.” He greeted, “Jason Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock.” He spoke, a hint of cockiness to his voice.

You remember your mother had told you stories about Jason Lannister and his many attempts to take her hand in marriage. From all accounts, he was an obnoxious, self important and vain man who often made jokes at the expense of women. You looked over to the table to see your mother and father watching you, your father smirking heavily whilst your mother laughed.

“It is a pleasure, My Lord.” You replied, hands coming up to join at the centre before you danced around each other once more.

“You are far more beautiful than the Court tells,” He flirts, “They have done you a disservice Princess.”

“You flatter me. Though I’m sure the courts do not always tell truths.” You reply, eyeing your aunt who snickered beside you.

“You are the fairest Lady here, Princess. Not even the evening sky could hold a candle to such a beauty.”

His hand on yours was soft and not at all rough and calloused from years of sword training. A soft hand means many things, one being that he probably has never lifted a finger, not even to wash his own ass. You smirked.

“You take after your mother Princess Rhaenyra no doubt, I am sure you have that same fire inside you.” He teased.

Jason Lannister leant closer towards you. He smelt strongly of rich herbs, far too much being splashed about his person, giving him an almost dizzying scent.

“I am of the House Targaryen,” You said, turning away from him to walk a circle around the person next to you before standing back in front, “Fire is second nature to me.”

He laughed an obnoxious laugh, the sound grating your ears. “Of course! All women, especially Targaryen women, have that fire. All you need is a good husband to stoke the flames.” He added, undressing you with his eyes. Gods you wished he would drop dead, or swallow his tongue.

“Did your good Lady Wife come with you to the Red Keep?” You asked, reminding him of his marital status in the hopes of escaping the conversation. You looked at Helaena with ‘help me’ eyes, to which she bit the insides of her cheeks desperately trying to not laugh, spinning away from you.

“My wife is here, as are my daughters,” Jasom spoke flatly, completely oblivious to your disdain, “and son.” He added suddenly, a glint in his eye,.

“He will be Lord of Casterly Rock one day, and I have been told that you are not betrothed to anyone. A union of House Targaryen and House Lannister would be a formidable force.”

“I'm sure it would be.” You spoke bluntly, “I think I remember my mother telling me of your offer to her when she was-“

You walked into a wall of muscle, slowly lifting your head to meet the eye of Aemond. He looked down his nose at you, breathing deeply. His scent wrapping itself around you.

Wordlessly he held out his hand to you. You stared at it before looking back at him. Without taking his eyes off of you, your uncle spoke to the Lannister who now stood awkwardly beside the both of you.

“Apologies for the interruption My Lord, but my niece had promised me a dance.”

“I n-“

You were cut off by the loud voice of the Lord of Casterly Rock. “Of course, Prince Aemond.” He nodded his head before looking to you, “We may speak of my son Loreon later, Princess.”

And with that Jason Lannister bowed, and left to sit back at the table with his wife, looking wounded from the interaction. A shame he did not fall and hit his head on the way.

Aemond grasped your hand, leading you to continue dancing with the others, you looked out into the sea of people watching the silver head of Helaena now walking back at the table next to her mother.

The One-Eyed Prince looked at you expectantly and so you hesitantly began to dance together. You felt yourself suddenly become hot.

“I don’t recall promising you a dance, uncle.” You spoke lowly, hoping for the music and voices of others around you to drown out your sour voice.

“You didn’t. Though, I'm sure Lannister's proposal to his newborn son was a riveting conversation all the same.” He hummed, still looking down his long nose at you.

You scoffed, continuing to dance around him, hand gently in his. You were thankful for the wine that eased your nerves, but cautious of the knot that began to tie in your belly.

Your hand was released as you walked around those beside you, dancing in a circle before coming back to Aemond, who’s eye never left you. His hand reached out to your waist, holding you tightly, causing your core to clench. Aemond, ever the snake, slid gracefully around you as you danced.

“I think your... dress has caught the attention of many Lords this evening, zaldrītsos.” (Little Dragon) He whispered in your ear, breath tickling your neck.

You bit back a scoff. “Mmm. They wish to have me as their own personal brooding mare, to push out silver hair babes in the hopes that one day their heir would be King.”

“Most likely.” He agreed, staring down at you with a smirk, “Though you do look ravishing. Even the people of Dorne would be in awe of your beauty.” He purred, hand pulling you close to press against his chest as he spun.

“I expected you to be in green for such an event.” You snipped, heart pounding in your chest before pulling away from him to walk around the person next to you.

He did not reply.

Aemond was a proud man, who followed tradition as closely as he could. For him to be dancing with you amongst the presence of the court was surprising to say the least. His and his mothers public assassination of you and your siblings legitimacy was well known, so for the proud Prince to be dancing with someone he had called a bastard was unusual. So unusual, that most of the court stared awkwardly at the interaction between the two Targaryens.

You walked forward again, both of your hands connecting to each other as they arched up and away from you, as you looked over your shoulder at him. As you walked, you caught the eye of your father at the table, who’s chin was in his hands as he watched you intently, head tilting when he caught your eye.

Fingertips grazed your neck, pulling your attention back to the silver haired man in front of you.

“Where is your fire, zaldrītsos?” He whispered, voice barely carrying over the sounds of others around you. His hand trailed down your arm, goosebumps raising in its wake.

You searched his eye, feeling your stomach begin to do flips at the proximity. Heat rose up your neck, flushing your cheeks and you suddenly felt the effects of the wine more than before.

The song began to wind down to an end and loud cheers and clapping could be heard. Some of the Lords and Ladies left to sit back at their seats whilst others stayed for the next dance as a new song rose into the air.

Swallowing your pride, you gave the Prince a small smile. “Thank you for the dance, uncle.”

Gently you curtseyed, eyes not leaving his face before you abandoned him amongst the crowd, walking back to your seat.

Prince Daemon's eyes watched you the entire way, and as you reached the table he raised his brows at you and you raised yours in return.

You felt hot from dancing, the back of your neck feeling damp. You reached over your chair whilst standing to grab your goblet, and took a steady sip. Alicent stared at you, a small smile on her face, whilst your Grandsire looked behind you at Aemond.

You walked over to your mother and kissed her cheek softly, excusing yourself for a quick walk, hoping to shake off the crawling sensation that wriggled across your skin. The sky had turned a brilliant shade of orange, pink hues slowly disappearing as the sun got lower and lower to the horizon.

As you walked around the garden you could still hear the music and people behind you celebrating, their laughter carrying through the air. You felt your stomach begin to settle, the unpleasant feeling leaving and decided to lean over a stone wall, looking out at the sunset.

You had missed the sunsets at the Red Keep, the way the sun would disappear into the horizon and the stars would shortly after light up the sky.

The thought of going back to Dragonstone brought you some solace, however sorrow followed at the thought of having to leave your home once more.

Dragonstone felt like exile at times, and as a child you had prayed to the Gods to heal your family's rift. The God's never answered. You leant and watched the sky turn a light purple, night slowly began to fall across the realm, the sun slowly but surely beginning to disappear beyond the horizon, leaving a small pink blur behind.

“The feast will be served soon.” Aemond's voice cut through the silence of the space.

You jumped, heart racing in your chest.

"Must you always lurk about in the shadows?" You grunted.

Taking a deep breath you straightened yourself, dusting your hands in front of you before turning to walk back to the celebrations. You brushed past him and back out into the garden.

"Their voyage had been long and terrible, it must be remembered. More than a hundred ships, since its flight, had foundered and sank.” He spoke, cutting through the silence.

You looked back at him.

"Others had drifted away, never to be seen again.”

“Ten Thousand Ships.” You recalled the book your mother had often read to you, and then as you were older you would read it at the Godswood.

“Do you remember when we were children?” He hummed, eye searching your face.

“Yes.” You replied.

“I remember it all.” He spoke, as you reluctantly walked together in the garden. “Your brothers and Aegon would torment me. But not you, and not Helaena.” He reminisced.

You looked away from him, focusing on the trees and plants around you, hoping that he would not touch you again not that you were away from seeing eyes. Silence surrounded you for some time until he abruptly stopped. You gazed at him, wary of his movements.

“I would listen to you read at the Godswood.” He said, as if the thought tumbled out of his mouth.

You searched his face in confusion. If he was angry he did not show it. His change in demeanour setting your senses on edge.

“I know.” You whispered.

“And yet, you did not show it.” His head tilted to the side, eyeing you closely.

You stayed silent, watching.

“You could have been cruel.” He eyed you.

“I suppose I could have been.” You stared back, before turning and continuing to walk back.

A deep hum behind you.

The sky began to get darker, and torches had been lit along the path to guide you and others who wandered. A deep grunt came from ahead and your brows furrowed. You continued walking when suddenly you saw the white hair of your eldest uncle.

In front of him knelt a servant girl, who’s lips moved swiftly along his shaft, as heavy breaths were puffed out of his chest. His fingers locked in her dirty blonde hair as he thrusted roughly into her mouth, wet gags coming from her chest. You blinked, utterly shocked having witnessed your uncle's depravity.

A deep sigh came from Aemond who was now beside you, who’s eye caught his brothers who let out a shrewd laugh. The poor girl below him pushed herself away from his pants before running away through the garden towards the servants quarters.

“Oh you do know how to ruin the fun brother.” Whined Aegon, cock still proudly out of his pants. You looked at Aegon in disgust, before swiftly turning on your heel to walk to another path.

You could hear your two uncles arguing as you sped away.

“You disgrace us all.” Came Aemond’s growl.

A huffed laugh slipped from Aegon’s lips as he responded, “I'm sure you and our niece were having a lovely time like me.”

Your face screwed up as you walked faster, hoping to escape the two. The further you went, the louder the music became, feeling calmer at knowing that you were almost back to the celebrations.

The sound of pebbled earth scuffling came rapidly from behind you, and you were jolted to the side, Aegon’s hair sticking up in different directions as he ran past you, pushing you roughly as he went forward towards his guests, a small giggle as he ran.

You held a hand to your stomach pausing to calm your heart, when suddenly a hand grabbed the back of your neck, a small gasp spilling from your mouth as you were spun to face the One-Eyed Prince.

You glared at him as he held you by the back of your neck, squeezing roughly, fingers caught in the small braids tugging them sharply. You breathed shallowly waiting for what was to come next, fear seizing your heart.

His one eye searched yours, and you suddenly felt heat begin to pool in your stomach. You opened your mouth sucking in a sharp breath when he squeezed the back of your neck harder.

He pulled you sharply towards him, a small mewl broke free from your lips. His lone eye flicked to your open mouth, watching you as he slowly began to lean closer to your face.

You tried to push back, your hands shoving against his chest, but the grip at the back of your neck prevented it and squeezed harder, causing pain to ripple down your spine.

His breath smelt of ale, and it was only now that you truly realised the blush on the Prince's cheeks. Closing the gap, he ghosted his lips over yours and you inhaled sharply, his bottom lip brushing gently over yours.

Your body reacted to his actions, making shame cloud your mind, stomach tensing in anticipation. He kept his lips close to yours, looking down at you. Your eyes were hooded as the smell of sandalwood and leather filled your surroundings, blocking the sweet smells of the flowers in the garden.

As he moved his head back, your body sought him, tilting your face upwards to try and catch his lips.

He breathed a small laugh looking at you, before releasing your neck. Your legs felt like jelly, and your drunken haze made you want to reach out to touch him. You knew it was wrong, but it was almost instinctual.

You were lured to him like a moth to a flame.

“Zaldristos.” He cooed, appreciating your form, hand coming to tuck a stray hair behind your ear.

Your hand shot out to grab his shirt as you tried to tug him back towards you, but he held strong. Prince Aemonds tongue darted out to touch his lips before he stood straight and walked gently past you.

You stood and stared into the dark garden, the sky black and the path around slowly being covered by shadows. Why did you do that?

Why had you sought his lips like a starved man seeks food? What was wrong with you? Surely it was the ale. You had known many men to succumb to their tainted desires at the hands of alcohol. You even knew women who had done the same.

There was no shame in desire, though there was shame in wanting someone as vicious and vile as Prince Aemond. Oh how the God's must be laughing at you. Perhaps this was their idea of a joke? Or maybe you were beginning to go mad.

Guilt ate at you as you breathed, hands stiff by your side. You took a deep breath, brushing down your skirts and hair before you turned to walk back to the celebrations, questioning your sanity as you went.

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blueraineshadows · 1 year

Note

Thank you so much for responding to my request last time, it was so good! I have another concept that's also inspired by something else if you don't mind?

Sebastian and MC are married, but he goes missing (due to his dangerous job) and is thought to be dead for years. MC is still grieving, but trying to move on. She gets engaged to another wizard, but Sebastian finally returns after trying his best to get back to her. They have a huge fight when Sebastian finds out (it'd be nice if it had a happy *smutty* ending, though).

"Where do you get off letting him think he can have you? You're mine and I'm yours. That's it!"

Great Request! 😃 Thank-you 💜

This has angst! It's also long! NSFW 🌶 🔥

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC (Mrs Sallow) as adults.

My beloved, Sebastian,

They tell me you are gone, forever, lost to me...dead. I haven't seen your face for over two years now, and my deepest fear suspects they may be right. But in my heart, safe for always, you will remain. As much as it hurts me, I could never let you go completely, for that would mean the end of me also.

I know our friends mean well, they wish to see me happy, at peace perhaps. But it has been hard to hear their insistent pleas for me to move on. Of late, I have had to succumb to their pleas. I'm not sure I can handle another visit to the morgue to identify another poor soul, the guilt of my relief that it is never you under the cloth, but some other lost loved one. I don't envy their family's pain, but it is another desperate scrap of hope that you are still alive.

We are holding a ceremony for you, to say goodbye, to let you go. I cannot say goodbye, merely farewell, for one day I know we will be reunited. How could we not? Whatever awaits beyond the mortal realm, I will find you there, my whole soul is destined for it. It always was.

It breaks me that you had to go before me, and all I have left are my memories, precious moments that are a comfort during dark, lonely nights.

Forgive me for having to let you go, if only for a time. I will love you forever, just as I promised you.

Wait for me. I will wait for you.

Your wife, MC.

Six months later...

"Matthew has proposed," MC said. Her fingers clutched her teacup a little tighter. The words sounded so terribly real when said out loud.

Poppy paused as she went to take a sip from her own tea cup, her eyes widening. She quickly put down her cup and put a hand on MC's arm. "Oh my goodness," she said. Concern clouded her face. "How...I mean...what did you say?"

"I told him I needed to think about it," MC said. Which was the truth. She looked down at her left hand, the silver band symbolising her eternal promise to Sebastian still there on her finger. Her voice became a whisper. "I can't help but feel like I am being unfaithful."

"Oh, MC," Poppy said. "I know it must feel strange, and of course it's so very difficult. But, you deserve to find some happiness, MC. And, Matthew is so lovely, I know he would take care of you."

MC nodded. "That's what makes it so difficult, Poppy. Matthew is wonderful, so understanding. He told me to take all the time I need to think. He would make a wonderful husband, but..."

The pause lay heavy between them. Poppy nodded knowingly. "He isn't Sebastian."

MC took a swallow of tea to loosen the restriction in her throat. She took a deep breath. "However, I did make a promise to try and move on, didn't I? Maybe a new beginning would be the best way to go about it."

"I agree," Poppy said. "It would gladden my heart to see you happy again, MC."

....*....

The fire crackled and dipped in the hearth. MC sat cross legged before it, her eyes watching the flames dance. Passion, and heat, unpredictability, fire had always reminded her of Sebastian.

A hand on her shoulder made her look up. Matthew smiled down at her, handing her a wine goblet. She took it with thanks. He folded to sit on the rug beside her. "Are you cold?" He asked. He wrapped an arm about her, rubbing her arm with his hand.

"No, just unwinding," she smiled. She leant her head against his shoulder. He was sturdy, safe, comforting. Traits that had made her gravitate towards him. It kept the edge off her loneliness.

He pressed a kiss to her head, his thumb making lazy circles on her arm. He had never pushed her to be physical with him, knowing how fragile her heart was. He had been an exemplary gentleman, and she was grateful for it.

She sipped her wine, the firelight glinting off the diamond she wore on her ring finger. She had accepted his proposal. Sebastian's ring was now on a chain around her neck, close to her heart. She rubbed a hand absently against it through the fabric of her blouse.

"I thought perhaps we could take a boat trip tomorrow," Matthew suggested. "We could get some fresh air, maybe take a picnic. It would be good to escape the city for a while."

"That sounds perfect," she smiled. She looked up at him. He had lovely, blue eyes, blue like the sky. His hair was fair, neatly trimmed. He was nothing like Sebastian, and that was how she wanted it.

Matthew's gaze was warm, loving. He tightened his hold a little, his gaze dropping to her lips. MC felt a little breathless and wondered if perhaps she had drunk too much wine. His kiss was soft, testing. He did not want to pressure her.

MC felt her body respond. It was weak, just a flutter, but it was the first time she had felt anything remotely close to desire in years. She kissed him back.

As the kiss deepened, the warmth of it seemed to ease back the cavern of loneliness that had carved itself in her chest. So, she let him lay her back on the rug, his mouth claiming hers more deeply.

There was a war going on inside of her. Half was opening up, reaching out for the closeness, the warmth, after so long in the dark. The other half of her was screaming, no, this was all wrong. She was wrong, a betrayer, she was betraying Sebastian.

She pulled back from Matthew's kiss, her hands flat against his chest. She could feel the pounding of his heart.

"Are you alright?" He asked. The concern in his gaze made her want to scream and rip at her own hair. She was being so unfair to him. She would be a terrible wife. He deserved so much better.

"A little overwhelmed," she breathed. She winced. "Forgive me. I think I need a minute."

"Of course," he said. He immediately sat up, adjusting his trousers.

"You must think I am a terrible tease," she grimaced. "That is not my intention."

"No, MC, I don't think that at all. I think you have suffered a terrible loss, and I do not ever expect to fill the hole Sebastian left behind." Matthew said. "I wish I could take the pain away for you, truly I do. I only hope that, one day, you can love me even a fraction of what you felt for him."

MC felt her heart squeeze painfully. Matthew was a good person. She did not deserve him. She reached out and took his hand. "How are you so perfect?"

A sharp rap on the front door made them both jump and turn. "Who on earth could that be at this hour?" MC asked.

Matthew frowned. "I will see to it." He got to his feet and MC couldn't help lift her eyebrows. He was sweet for thinking that she needed protecting, after all, she was a far more powerful witch than most.

She heard the door open and the surprise in Matthew's voice. "Ominis!"

MC immediately got to her feet. It was very unlike Ominis to call upon her so unexpected like this. Her heart kicked up a notch and she twisted her fingers together as he appeared in the living room doorway.

"Good evening, MC. I am sorry to call on you so late, but this couldn't wait," he said. He looked grave, a little flustered even. He tilted his head trying to locate her.

She went to him, reaching for a hand. "Ominis, I'm here, it's alright." He squeezed her fingers, his usual cool fingers hot and sweaty. She swallowed. "What is it?"

"I don't know where to start," he said. He pressed long fingers to his brow. "I had word through the Ministry that a stronghold of slavers has been discovered in America. There were many prisoners, witches and wizards from all over the world, Aurors, Unspeakables..."

MC felt his grip tighten on her fingers, his bones grating against hers. She didn't even feel the pain. Her vision was starting to tunnel. All she could see was his face, her eyes fixed on his lips as the words came out. "Go on," she urged.

Ominis took a deep, shuddering breath. "The list of survivors, the ones they brought back..."

"Ominis," she said. Her voice was a strangled plea. She was clinging to his hand, her other hand reached out to grab the front of his immaculate robes. Hope was being dangled in front of her eyes. Years of agony were twisting harshly in her chest and her ears were screaming for what he had to say next. Oh, Merlin, please!

He nodded and got a hold of himself, his eyes blinking back the sudden shine in them. "His name was on that list, MC. Sebastian...he has been found."

She could hear someone wailing, a terrible, wrenching sound and then all was quiet. Soothing blackness wrapped around her and then there was nothing else.

....*....

She blinked. Once, twice, the living room swimming into view. She felt heavy, sluggish, her mouth glued shut. MC tried to sit up on the settee, and then hands were there steadying her shoulders. Matthew's face was a picture of worry.

She turned her head, and there in the wingback chair sat Ominis, looking anything but his usual composed self. His fingers were clutching the arms of the chair, his face rigid, his hair a little ruffled.

They had found him!

"Is it true?" She croaked.

Ominis turned his face her way, his lips trembled, and he nodded. "The survivors were brought back to England three days ago. I made some enquiries and Sebastian was placed in a safe house. I had trouble believing it myself, and so I made arrangements to go and make absolutely sure it was true."

Her heart was a wild thing in her chest, it hurt to breathe. "You've seen him?"

He nodded. "Yes," he said. "I saw him not two hours ago."

Her breath left her in a rush, a tear slid from her cheek. She shook, uncontrollably, and shifted, fully facing him now. "Can we...can I," she gasped. She put her fingers to her lips. "Is he alright?"

"He is alive, and not badly wounded. I can't say much about his state of mind, of course. He is...understandly, traumatised. But he did ask for you. It was one of the first things he said to me." Ominis said. He hesitated, his fingers flexing. "He wanted to know everything...about you. I...filled him in a little. I apologise."

She flinched and slid from the couch to her knees, literally crawling across the floor to clasp Ominis' hand. "Take me to him, please."

Ominis held her hand, but his head turned in the direction of Matthew, a pained look on his face. MC gasped and swung her gaze around to Matthew, horrified that she had completely forgotten he was standing there. She began to stutter out an apology, but he held up a hand to stop her.

"Don't say another word," he said. His eyes were sad, but his mouth was firm. "Go, go to him. It's only right." He faltered. "He is your husband, after all."

....*....

Ominis and MC Apparated to the location of the safe house. The road was dark, quiet, a chill breeze tugging at the trees. Set back from the road was the house, an Auror standing guard near the door. A light glowed in a downstairs window.

MC was clinging on to Ominis' arm, too afraid to let go lest she just collapse to the ground. None of this felt real. He led her through the gate and towards the door, her feet stumbling along the path.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Ominis asked.

"I will crawl through that door if I have to," she said through gritted teeth. "I need to see."

The Auror guard gave a nod to Ominis. "Gaunt," he said, respectfully. His eyes took in MC. "Mrs Sallow, I take it."

"I think Mr and Mrs Sallow need some time," Ominis said. "By all means, keep your guard, but perhaps at a distance. I will be nearby as well, but they need some privacy just now."

"Understood." The Auror gave the door a long look before he made for the gate. "I will be along the front of the property."

"Why are they guarding him?" MC asked.

Ominis frowned. "Not all the slavers have been caught yet, and every survivor is a witness. It's for Sebastian's protection."

"Anyone coming for him will have to get through me first," she growled. It gave her some of her strength back to think that anyone might be about to snatch him away from her again, and she hadn't even seen him yet.

Ominis held her close for a moment. "I don't doubt it," he said. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she looked up at him in surprise. Ominis was not one for overly displaying affection. "Will you be alright, now?"

"Yes," she said. "And thank you. Thank you for bringing me here."

"It's only where you belong, MC," he said. He moved from her grip and knocked on the door. "I doubt you will need me, but I won't be far away. He...he did not take the news well that there is another gentleman in your life."

MC could well imagine it. Sebastian wasn't the sharing type, especially when it came to her. But then, she would have felt just the same if another woman had laid a hand on him. She opened her mouth to reassure Ominis, but the latch sounded on the door.

The door opened, the light from inside spilling out onto the front step. MC stared, eyes wide, heart pounding as Sebastian stepped into view.

"You have a visitor, brother," Ominis said. He gave MC a gentle nudge forward.

Sebastian and MC looked at each other for the first time in almost three years. Her eyes devoured his face, ogling the shape of him, lines and angles she knew so well, but they were oddly strange to her now. He looked leaner, shadows under his eyes making him look weary, and there was a scar on his forehead that disappeared into his hair line.

Her name whispered from his lips. She took a faltering step towards him, and then another. He just stared, his eyes trying to comprehend that she was truly there at all. Her hand reached up, her fingers trembling so badly, that she missed on her first attempt. But then, she was touching him.

Her fingers trailed from his forehead, down over his nose to brush against his mouth. "You're real," she breathed. "It's really you."

A tear slid from his eye, rolling over his cheek. Her lips trembled. And then she was in his arms, crushed against him, as a sob ripped from her throat.

He held her so tightly that she could hardly breathe, but she didn't care. She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing him in with small gasps, her fingers gripping at whatever she could get a hold of. He was solid, he was warm, he was here, alive.

Ominis slipped quietly away into the shadows, leaving husband and wife to find each other again.

....*....

The inside of the cottage was sparsely furnished but warm, a fire burning in the grate. The remains of a half eaten meal was on a tray, and a blanket was hanging off the edge of the settee.

MC wandered in behind Sebastian, her eyes constantly checking he was still there, feeling a little adrift since he had released her from that choking hug. He hadn't looked at her since, his face tense as he began to pace before the fireplace.

"I can't believe you're actually here," she said. "It's like a dream."

He spun to face her, his eyes hard. She flinched as he strode towards her, snatching up her hand to look at Matthew's diamond on her ring finger. He dropped her hand as if it burned him. "Some fucking dream," he hissed.

"Sebastian..."

"Do you have any idea what it was like!" He snapped. His face was so harsh, so cold. "Night after night, the screams, the beatings. An endless loop of nothingness. I thought I was going to go mad, I felt myself slipping away, but I kept hanging on. It was you! Your face, my memory of you, that kept me going. And now, now I find out that you replaced me! You're wearing another man's ring on your finger instead of the one I gave you!"

His voice had reached a pitch that made her press her fingers to her face, the fury in his eyes so much to bear that she gasped, her heart breaking into a thousand splinters.

He growled viciously and kicked out at a chair at the table. It clattered to the floor.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. "Let me explain..."

He glared at her. "Does he touch you? Does he make you feel good?"

MC remembered the kiss her and Matthew had shared mere hours ago and flushed, but she shook her head. "No, Sebastian, please..."

"You're lying," he spat. He began to pace again, his hands raking through his hair. He swore harshly.

MC gritted her teeth. Her own shame at accepting Matthew gnawed at her, had she not felt like she was betraying Sebastian? She had not wanted to let him go, but had tried to, tried to please her friends, tried to be happy.

This was not how she had envisioned a reunion taking place. She watched Sebastian pace, his fury darkening his face, the pain flickering in and out in his eyes. "Stop this," she said. "I never stopped loving you."

He lunged for her arm, holding her hand up between them. The ring shone brightly in the firelight. "This says different."

His face was close and her heart ached for him. She felt the sting of tears. She fumbled her chain from out of her blouse, his ring hanging from it. "I never let you go, not really," she said.

He eyed the ring and then her. He shook his head. "You were all I thought about." He sounded broken.

He released her arm and turned away.

"I had to bury you!" She wailed.

He stiffened.

Her hands curled into small fists. "We had a ceremony, each of us saying how much we loved you. We put momentoes in a box and buried it because there was no body to say goodbye to. I wrote you letters, hundreds of them, but I had nowhere to send them. I had to bury them in the ground, with all the hope I could barely hang on to that you were still alive."

He turned to face her. She was really crying now, huge, fat tears of despair. She jabbed a finger at him. "You were gone. I was alone, so fucking alone, and I tried to find you. Searching, begging, pleading, driving everyone mad with my nonstop hope that you would be found. I almost threw myself into death's arms at one point, I thought it might be the only way to escape the pain of you not being there when I woke up every day."

Sebastian swallowed, some of the fury fading from his face. "You...you were going to kill yourself?"

She was panting, sucking in deep breaths, chest tight. She swiped the tears from her face and turned away from him, her cheeks colouring with her shame. She had never admitted that out loud until now. She calmed herself, smoothing her hands over her hips

"How was I supposed to go on without you? It was a really low point, but I was lucky. I had friends who cared enough to pick me up. And then...and then I met Matthew."

Sebastian scowled. But MC continued. "He was kind, he tried to help me. He works at the Ministry and he tried to help in my search for you. He took care of me, he never pressed me for anything in return."

"Sounds like a right hero," Sebastian muttered.

"Maybe he is," she said, whirling to face him. "He was certainly there for me. After we all said goodbye to you, he asked me to marry him. I agonised over it, but eventually accepted. But do you know what he said when Ominis came to get me tonight? He told me to come to you, that it was only right that I did. He didn't try to stop me."

"He wouldn't have got far if he had tried," Sebastian growled. He stalked towards her, his hand catching hold of her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "How could you ever think about letting him touch you?"

MC was breathing hard and fast again, her heart hammering in her chest. Their gazes were locked, the fire in Sebastian's eyes shifting from fury to pure desire, a hunger so deep and vast she was starting to drown in it. A flame flickered into life deep inside her, trails of fire spreading thick and fast through her veins.

He could still do it. After all this time apart, he made her blood sing, made her melt into the merest touch. "We didn't...he hasn't..." She swallowed hard. "I wasn't ready."

He lowered his face to hers. "Good," he breathed into her mouth. "You're mine, and I'm yours. That's it!"

MC lowered her eyes to his mouth. Slowly, agonisingly slow, he leant in and pressed his lips against hers. A moan, relief mixed with need, sounded in MC's throat.

He gripped her hair at the back of her head, kissing her deeply, stumbling back towards the table with her. Desperate groans fell from their lips as he lifted her skirt, parting her legs as she sat up on the edge of the table.

He stroked his fingers against her heat, finding it pleasingly wet. "Oh fuck," he groaned. He shifted, opening his trousers and pulling his arousal free.

Need came before anything else. He pressed inside of her, thrusting deep, greedily. She cried out at the immediate stretch. It had been a long time, his thickness burning along her walls, but she didn't stop him. Instead, her hips lifted to meet him, needing to feel him fill her up. His eyes were glazed, drunk on the very feel of her, he began to thrust, deep, desperate, like a man starved.

His fingers dug into her flesh, his lips were parted and his breaths came harshly as he fucked. He wasn't violent, but neither was he gentle. His release came hard and fast, his hips bucking desperately and a growl tearing from his mouth as he collapsed over her. She held him, her hand stroking through the unruly locks of his hair, calming him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. His head was buried against her chest. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. It felt so good to be holding him again. It had been a long time, she had understood his need, let him take what he longed for.

He straightened and took hold of her hand. "Come on," he said.

"Where are we going?"

He smirked. Her heart glowed at the sight of it. The memory of that smirk had haunted her dreams, but there it was, for real. "I'm taking my wife upstairs to my bed," he said. "I am far from done with you."

....*....

MC couldn't have told a soul what that bedroom looked like when she first entered it. So intent were they on each other, removing every barrier of clothing, tossing it all to the floor without a care, just desperate to feel skin against skin.

The blanket was cold against her back, no fire up here, just the moonlight gleaming through the window. She arched her back, welcoming the feel of Sebastian's lips as he kissed her breasts, learning every curve again like it was the first time.

Her heart beat for him, her pulse skittering madly as he sucked at her neck, his hands exploring the curve of her waist. Her nipples brushed against his chest hair, hardening into desperate peaks. Fuck, she was aching with the need for him, it was almost a pain that only he could heal.

"Sebastian," she whined.

"I know," he whispered. He kissed her, his teeth tugging on her bottom lip. "Patience, my love, I need to taste all of you. Trust me, I will give you what you seek, and more."

MC moaned, her fingers seeking greedily through his hair, massaging his scalp, drawing moans from his lips. Every sound he made was a balm against the pain in her chest. He was alive. He was here.

Her fingers traced new scars on his chest, hurts he had endured so far from home. She kissed them, her tongue trying to soothe the pain inflicted on him. She caught a nipple in between her teeth and tugged, his cock twitching and dripping onto her thigh.

She reached for him, teasing fingers drifting up the silky hardness. "MC..."

She smiled against his skin, breathing in the scent of him, feeling like she was finally at peace. She began to stroke up and down his length and his hips bucked. He groaned and pressed her back down onto the bed. "No," he breathed. "It's your turn."

His mouth worshipped her stomach, his tongue dipping into her navel, swirling hotly. She found herself lost in a haze of fire, only his mouth, his hands, the sounds of his breathing mattered. She reached up to grip the blanket behind her head, her thighs separating, her hips grinding as his hot tongue slid luxuriously up her slit.

Oh, he knew what she liked!

Waves of delicious flame circled hotly at her core as his tongue swirled over her clit, his fingers teasing cries from her lips as he fucked her, slow, and with a knowing touch. She whimpered, her thighs beginning to tremble, as her release began to build.

Three years without him, three years of yearning, and now he was here, driving her over the edge again, sending her spinning outwards to see stars. Her fingers gripped his hair, holding his head right where she needed him most as her climax hit.

She was shaking, tears flooding her eyes, and he held her. His kisses warmed her cheeks, her neck, his hands smoothing up her back and over her hips. "That's my girl," he whispered. "Gods, I have missed you."

Barely having caught her breath back, Sebastian rolled them, settling her above him. "Fuck me," he begged. "Show me how much you missed me. I want to watch as you fuck me."

Aftershocks tingled through MC, her cunt pulsing with a need to feel him deep inside her. She caught his arousal in her hand, pumping him softly, her thumb sliding over his tip. He held her hips, his hungry eyes watching as she lined him up against her soaked entrance. He parted his lips, anticipation thick on his tongue, a delicious groan leaving him as she slid on to his cock.

She rolled her hips, her head falling back, her hair trailing down her back, the moonlight soft against the sweat on her skin. He let her move at her own pace, licking his lips at the sounds coming from her throat, at the hot slickness of her walls sliding along him.

MC still had a hunger for him, a need to feel out of control, lost in him. She angled her hips, ensuring that his throbbing tip was stroking just where she needed him. The pressure began to build and she began to bounce harder. His hands caressing her breasts as they jiggled with her efforts.

He was appreciating every move she made, his hips bucking to meet her, his own fire building to the limit. "Cum for me, MC," he said. He slid a thumb to press against her nub. She cried out, her hips twitching. He looked down, saw the slick shining on his cock. He licked his lips. "Mine, all mine."

She clenched around him, desperate cries echoing around the room. Sebastian knew the Auror was still outside. He hoped he could hear her, let the whole fucking world hear what he did to her. She was his wife, his love, his fucking everything. He wanted everyone to know it.

Driven mad by his utter need to claim her again, he flipped her, her hair fanning out across the blanket. He grabbed her hand, tugging the diamond free and letting it tumble across the bed. He linked their fingers, his eyes roaming over her as she panted below him. He saw his ring, attached to the chain around her neck, pooling in the dip of her throat.

He bent to catch it up into his mouth, rolling it on the tip of his tongue. He bent to kiss her, softly, his cock aching to fuck her, the ring caught between their mouths.

"I love you," she breathed. "I've never stopped."

He smiled, the ring slipping to fall onto the bed near her ear. He would be putting that right back on her finger where it belonged. But first...

He slid into her, rolling his hips, revelling in the way she clenched around him, sucking him deeper. He couldn't hold it off any longer. He fucked her, hard, unforgiving, burying her into the mattress under the fire of his need. She clung to him, her nails scraping against his flesh and he savoured every scratch.

The sweat dripped from his face, the room was filled with the slap of their skin, the grunts and cries of their pleasure, and then he squeezed his eyes shut, hips bucking. Hot release spilled into her, and she squeezed her muscles, drawing every last drop from him.

They collapsed into a breathless heap of limbs, mouths seeking and finding each other in a long, slow kiss.

As their breathing calmed, and their flesh cooled, he drew the blanket over them both, holding her close. She looked sleepy, content. He kissed her forehead. As he settled onto the pillow beside her, holding her warmth close, he thanked every star for letting him get back to her.

His nightmares hovered over his shoulder, but he grit his teeth, willing them to stay away. Let him have tonight, just tonight, to hold her, to remember.

Tomorrow, the healing could begin for real.

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #mc x sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #blueraineshadows #sebastian sallow smut

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happilyhertale · 2 years

Text

Long Lost Love - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader, Part 12

Summary: You are the daughter of Daemon and Rhaenyra. When the invitation to Aegon and Helaena's wedding came, your entire family rushes from Dragonstone to King's Landing to take part in the festivities. You haven't seen your family in King's Landing for 6 years so you are very excited...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: At the beginning none – eventually smut (uncle/niece)

Author’s note: Hello you! (:

This is my first fic so please be nice (: I thought I'd just try a little self-considered story. I hope u like it.

The events are not entirely similar from the series.

English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

18+ NSFW

Word count: 4k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7a, Part 7b, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

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You're speechless.

He stands before you and holds out his hand to you.

Aemond wants to dance with you.

You don't seem to move at first, for some reason you can't move at all. Until Daemon nudges you lightly and barely noticeably with his elbow. He grins slightly without taking his eyes off the goblet he brings to his mouth.

Back in reality, you reach for his hand as if of your own accord. Immediately you feel a fire go through your whole body.

He holds your hand firmly, yet gently in his. He smiles shyly at you and leads you around the table, straight into the crowd. You are still speechless and cannot take your eyes off him.

Aemond dares to stand in the crowd with you, to embrace you and want to dance with you. Ever since he reached out to you, you feel like all the eyes in the hall are on you. You have never seen Aemond so willing to attract the public's attention.

He puts his hand on your waist and presses you tightly against him, his other hand holds your hand up. You put your hand on his shoulder.

You look him in the eye. He visibly swallows. As the music starts, Aemond leads you across the dance floor without a hitch. Every step is on point and you are almost impressed. You feel your body heat up as he guides you across the ball floor. You are lost in his beautiful purple eye and take in his scent. His scent, which you've been missing for days. And yet it seems that none of you dares to speak first.

Until he seeks your gaze with his eye, "Y/N I'm.. so sorry. I'm ashamed... I am ashamed that I made you feel that I was dishonest with you."

He sighs and his gaze flits briefly to the crowd, "That you had to see that kiss... I'm disgusted with myself."

You look at him, tears welling up in your eyes, he continues, "I assure you I pushed her away. Too late… Yes. But I pushed her away." His gaze is firmly fixed on you again.

"You... You pushed her away?", you whisper. He nods at you.

"Alys means nothing to me anymore. There was a time when she was close to me. But… she was never as close to me as you are. Since I found out weeks ago that you were coming here, my thoughts have… have only been about you. My wish to see you again... After all this time. I could think of nothing else but wanting to be close to you again."

You slide even closer to his body as you dance. He holds you close and looks at you gently.

"Yesterday, when I saw how close you were to the Stark Lord... I'm sorry, I couldn't bear it. I had to do something. I wanted to talk to you, but when you stood in front of me, almost crying... I couldn't say anything... I just wanted to hold you in my arms, but I couldn't."

Barely perceptible, he wipes away a tear running down your cheek with his hand.

"And… I haven't slept with you yet because it's important to me that it's perfect for you. Don't get me wrong... I want to make love to you. Oh, only the gods can guess how much I long to sleep with you. But I don't want to sleep with you out of temptation..." you interrupt him, "I don't want a perfect moment, Aemond... I want you."

You almost whisper the end.

He looks at you and barely noticeably shakes his head, "Y/N you don't know what that means. This moment is so important. For a woman even more than for a man. My important moment was in a brothel and it marks me to this day... and not in any positive way... " and again you interrupt him " Aemond... you are my perfect moment. No matter what the situation. With you... it's perfect. I trust you..."

He pauses for a moment. He must smile slightly. He leans lightly towards you and whispers in your ear, "You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now."

You return his slight smile, "Then… just do it", you breathe.

He laughs briefly, "Oh, you really will be the death of me."

You lean against him, your face in the crook of his neck. You inhale his scent. How much you miss this... To be safe in Aemond's arms. Inhaling his unique scent.

Aemond can't help himself either and leans the side of his face carefully against your head.

You don't care what anyone else would say. You have had to do without his touch for too long.

After you have enjoyed your closeness for a while, you ask, "You can dance?"

He chuckles briefly, "Of course I can dance, I'm a prince after all. Just because I don't want to, doesn't mean I can't."

In response you press your face further into the crook of his neck.

"And furthermore, I didn't know any other way to help myself... I had to talk to the princess and… I had no other chance to get close to her...", he whispers softly in your ear.

You remove your face from his neck and look at him.

You have to smile slightly, "Aemond... Let's leave this stupid ball."

He looks at you, "Do I dance that badly?"

You have to laugh, "No. But I want to be alone with you... I've missed you."

He looks almost heartbroken as he finally nods.

He stops leading you across the dance floor and extends his arm to you. You are overjoyed to accept his invitation. As you take his arm, you lean close to his side.

As he leads you out of the hall, there are still a few pairs of eyes on you. Whether because you were dancing or because you were far too close to each other, you don't know.

But you couldn't care less.

Daemon's gaze meets Viserys'. Viserys nods at his brother with a smile and Daemon knows what that means.

He too has noticed how close you were. How much you enjoyed dancing close together.

Daemon has always known that you would have to wed someone someday. But still it pains him. It would be foolish to ignore any longer that you were likely to wed Aemond. What you feel for each other is probably more than a childhood love.

He leans towards Rhaenyra with a sigh and she looks at him, "I think we should prepare for our daughter to come to us soon with a request."

She looks at him questioningly, "What do you mean? Aemond?"

Daemon nods at her. Rhaenyra doesn't look happy, more worried.

Daemon gently takes her hand, "You know, there was nothing our daughter could do about it."

Rhaenyra looks at him.

"She's fallen for her uncle", Daemon smiles at her.

Rhaenyra has to suppress a smile.

"I am afraid for her. I'm not sure he's good for her."

Daemon sighs, "Who would have thought I'd be good for you? Try to look at it this way, the only good swordsman of the Targaryens, besides me of course, will consider it his life's work to protect our daughter."

She looks unconvinced, "Y/N is quite capable of protecting herself."

Daemon kisses her hand, "I am aware of that... But a capable man by her side, that can't hurt. I also think he's different with her. Almost tenderly... hopefully. And I trust her enough not to wed a tyrant."

"Let's hope so", Rhaenyra smiles slightly at Daemon.

After a short while she says to him, "I hope you realise that if he treats her badly, that I'll send you to him?“

He looks at her, one eyebrow raised, "I hope you are aware that I am on my way long before you can even send me."

Rhaenyra kisses Daemon gently.

Aemond has never led you anywhere so quickly.

He opens the door to his chambers and leads you inside. You stand in the middle of his chambers and look at each other. He swallows and reaches out for your hand. He holds it and strokes it gently with his thumb, with his other arm he embraces you. He simply holds you in his arms. You put your arms around his neck, hold yourself tightly against him. A tear leaves your eye. Not out of sadness, but rather out of the relieving feeling of being in his arms. You press your face into the crook of his neck again. A light sob escapes you as you inhale his scent. He just holds you and gently strokes your back.

"I'm so sorry Y/N...", he whispers in your ear. When he notices you sobbing again. Carefully taking your head from his shoulder, he holds your face in his hands and gently strokes away the tears, "No, my Love, please don't cry..."

You sob again, "... I... I thought I would never be here again... In your chambers... Just in your arms..."

He interrupts you with a gentle kiss. He leans his forehead against yours, "I would never have let you go..."

You just nod slightly.

"Come...", carefully he leads you to the bench in front of the fire.

You sit in front of the fire, he holds you tightly in his arms and gently caresses your arm.

Absently he looks into the fire.

You watch him discreetly... You have missed him. His beautiful face. These few days without him were hard for you to bear.

"It's rude to stare," you suddenly hear him say.

You bury your face in his shoulder and he chuckles lightly.

In time, you begin to caress his thigh. You draw light circles on his firm thighs with your fingers. You become more curious... Carefully, you let your fingers slide a little further upwards, still stroking him gently.

Slowly he turns his gaze away from the fire and looks at you from the side. But you do not return his gaze. You continue stroking until you are almost at his crotch. Your heart begins to pound harder and the thought of what you are about to touch makes you bite your lip.

"What are you up to?" he whispers in your ear.

Quietly you reply, "I... I want to do something good for you. You've only given me nice moments so far... beautiful feelings. I want to give you that too."

"Y/N, that was at least as nice for me... To be the first man to give you these feelings."

Nevertheless, you notice how the bulge in his crotch is getting bigger.

You look at him, "I want to be able to experience when you have such… beautiful feelings". He chuckles, gently strokes your cheek and kisses you passionately.

After a while you break the kiss. Unsure how to do it... what to do at all, you bite your lip.

"I'll show you what to do?" he asks you softly.

You nod slowly.

He kisses you again and carefully takes your hand, placing it right on his crotch.

A breath escapes your lips as you feel him. He is already hard. You look at him, he smirks.

He kisses you again and starts to move your hand on his crotch. Slowly you massage his length. You notice how his breathing quickens.

Aemond takes his hand off yours and starts to undo his belt. You continue to massage him, but interrupt the kiss. You want to see him.

He sits up for a moment and pulls his trousers down to the back of his knees. When he leans back again, you see him for the first time.

Unconsciously you swallow and bite your lip. Aemond caresses your cheek and pulls your chin up, he kisses you again. Between kisses he breathes, "Go on, touch him."

You look at him, a little unsure. But you dare, slowly you close your hand around his hard length.

He gasps briefly and closes his eyes. He puts his hand on yours and guides it. Slowly he lets it slide up and down. He squeezes a little harder and tells you, "You can press harder". You follow his lead. As you let your hand wander down his hot length, you notice him getting even bigger and harder.

He begins to moan and lets your hands slide up and down faster. This deep moan sends a wave of arousal through you. You feel yourself getting wet and you press your thighs together to at least try to get some satisfaction.

You take the lead and let your hand slide along him on its own. He groans again and reaches out with his hands beside him. He squeezes your knee, which is lying next to him on the bench. You can't help but kiss him. Greedily he kisses you back. The sounds of your kisses and moans fill his chambers.

Suddenly you notice your fingers getting a little wet. You look down and see little drops coming out of him. A light, clear liquid spreads over your fingers and his hard, pulsating length.

At this sight, the feeling rises in you that you must have more. You look up at him for a moment, his head leaning back, his eye closed. His breathing is rapid and interrupted by moans. He is so beautiful.

"I want to taste you," it escapes you.

He looks up, out of breath. His eye is dark, full of lust. He kisses you passionately.

"Just before I'm done... Then you can taste me...", he replies out of breath.

You look a little irritated, but you nod slowly.

Not for a second did you stop your movement. Aemond puts his head back again.

You look down again and something else occurs to you.

Carefully you slide down to the floor and push his legs a little apart. He looks down at you and gasps, "What are you doing?"

Sitting on your knees between his legs, you look at him, don't answer and just smirk slightly.

Your hand closes around him and you begin to slide it up and down his full length again. A deep grumble arises inside him and he watches you, full of lust.

Slowly you lean forward and you let your tongue wander along his shaft. Aemond moans loudly. When you reach the top, you surround the shaft with your lips and suck gently on it. He hisses, "Oh seven hells..., Y/N!"

With a "plop" you let him slide out, breathing heavily. You look at him, "You have to show me..." he just nods.

He leans in for a moment and kisses you. He lets himself fall back, strokes your cheek lightly with one hand. His hand wanders gently to the back of your head and presses it down lightly.

"Be careful with your teeth. Wrap your lips over your teeth," he whispers.

Your mouth closes around his cock, carefully he pushes your head down and up again. Delicately you let your lips glide over his length. This feeling makes the arousal between your legs flare up even more. You moan out.

Aemond responds with a twitch that travels once through his cock.

He whispers, "Take him... as far... into your mouth... as you can manage. Use...your hand...to help."

You try to take him all the way into your mouth, but he is too big. You gag for a moment, but you don't stop. And again you feel him twitch.

With one hand you grab the part of the length that doesn't fit in your mouth and you start stroking him. You squeeze him lightly and Aemond moans.

He lightly thrusts his hips rhythmically towards you. His hips tremble slightly as he controls the urge to rut into your throat.

A load of wetness leaks out of you and it would be a pure miracle if you didn't already have your underwear completely soaked. With rhythmic movements you try to satisfy your arousal. His breath is getting faster and faster, you can't help but moan again.

You let your mouth slide up and down faster. In your mouth you feel his length growing even bigger and you taste him a little.

You love it.

He carefully takes your free hand and guides it to his balls, he almost whispers between his gasps, "Squeeze them gently."

You follow his instruction. Tenderly you let your fingers wander over his balls, squeezing gently as you suck greedily on his cock. "You look so… beautiful with my cock in your mouth," he whispers breathlessly.

His cock twitches more and more and the grumbling deep in his chest doesn't let up.

His hand first glides gently through your hair until he suddenly grabs hold of you and holds you tightly while his cock disappears almost completely into your mouth. This sight makes him come almost immediately. "Fuck, Fuck... Fuck! Y/N, take him all the way in your mouth... oh Fuuck, take all of me."

Suddenly he grips your hair tighter, his other hand claws into the sofa and you notice a violent twitch go through his balls and cock. You increase the tempo once more and suck eagerly on his cock. Aemond grips your hair even tighter as he inhales sharply, a moan caught in his throat.

His thighs tremble slightly. "In a moment... there will be a liquid in your mouth... swallow what you can..."

Then he moans loudly and your name passes his lips countless times.

With one last thrust from his hip, Aemond squirts his hot cum into your mouth, right down your throat. You have a large amount of liquid in your mouth and you try to swallow it all down. A little liquid runs down your lips, but you don't stop sucking and swallowing until you notice Aemond's grip on your hair loosening.

Slowly you lift your head up and wipe your lips with your hand.

Aemond's head is leaning back, his eye is closed. He gasps to himself, but he smiles.

You look at him for a moment. You have to smile. Carefully you stand up and then straddle his waist. He looks up and smiles at you, his hands find their way to your hips, he caresses you. You kiss each other gently.

"You taste delicious", you say with a smile on your lips.

He laughs briefly.

You kiss him again.

The next morning you wake up in your chambers. Aemond has spent the night in his chambers. You thought it wiser not to spend the night together, as the servants would come early in the morning to fetch your luggage. So that the carriages can be loaded for the hunt.

However, he did not miss the opportunity to accompany you to your chambers and kiss you passionately goodbye as well as gently caress your cheek.

You have to smile at the thought of your last evening. To feel him... and tasting... it was indescribably beautiful.

The heaviness of the last few days that lay on your chest has almost disappeared. You were hurt and yet missed Aemond at the same time. You are still not comfortable with Alys presence at court. You would prefer it if she would just leave.

But now Aemond is by your side again. You know how he feels about Alys and that nothing happened between them. At least not in the last few days... and apart from that kiss... You push the thought aside.

And again, you have to think of all the accidents that can happen during a hunt in the forest, and that makes the feeling of Alys presence a little more bearable.

Yet he went to the effort of dancing with you in public and explaining himself.... You're glad he reached out to you. And that your father talked to you. Almost stood up for Aemond...

You are jolted out of your thoughts when there is a knock at your door

"Yes?" you call out.

The door opens and four servants step inside. They curtsey slightly and the one speaks to you "Princess Y/N, we are to fetch your clothes and other things to load them into the carriages."

You slowly sit up in bed, "Yes, that's fine. There are two boxes next to the door. Please take them and load them."

The servants curtsey again and take the boxes. After you have bathed and dressed, you go to breakfast.

Your family is already gathered and light conversation fills the hall. Aemond is also at the table and your eyes meet.

You have to smile and bite your lower lip lightly. Even as you look away, Aemond is still looking at you with a smile.

Daemon notices and looks at you with a raised eyebrow as you sit down next to him. You kiss his cheek lightly, followed by a quiet "Daddy."

After a few more glances between you and Aemond, Daemon decides to tease you.

He looks at you from the side and turns to the family, "Did everyone have a restful sleep?"

You look at him confused. Even your mother looks at him irritated, "Since when do you care whether your fellow men have slept well?"

He shrugs slightly, "I don't know, I was walking along the corridor leading to the princes' chambers last night and heard unusual noises. So I was worried that not everyone had had a relaxing night's rest."

You choke slightly and have to cough, your gaze goes forward to Aemond. His eye is wide open, but he quickly regains his composure and looks unimpressed.

You look at your father, who smiles at you.

He wasn't near the chambers last night, why should he be? But he wanted to know if you were there. Just as you are about to answer, you hear Aemond's voice.

"Thank you for asking uncle, but don't worry, I really was able to sleep very relaxed."

Everyone at the table is now looking in Aemond's direction. No one says anything. Aegon even looks relatively amused and drinks his wine with relish. There is far too much surprise that Aemond and Daemon are talking to each other.

Daemon has to suppress a chuckle and replies, "Yes, I can imagine that only too well."

You look down at your plate and try to finish your breakfast as quickly as possible.

While standing in the courtyard, you watch absently as the carriages are loaded.

Your brothers look forward to the hunt. Your father does the same and looks forward to the wine.

Drinking wine, riding through the woods and killing animals. Except for the wine drinking, it doesn't sound very enticing to you.

Suddenly you hear a soft "My Love" in your ear. You turn around and see Aemond. You blush slightly, without knowing exactly why. Aemond has to smile in response.

You stand close together, "You'll come hunting as well?"

He nods slightly, "Of course. I am the king's son. My brother and sister are to be celebrated with this hunt... And I can't leave you alone in the wilderness after all." He smiles at you. Oh how you missed that smile.

"Well, she's not all alone, I'm still here too."

Aemond's jaw stiffens and as you look over Aemond's shoulder you see Rob.

"Rob," you smile at him. He smiles back and winks at you.

"Mmm, that's right. There are still dogs needed for the hunt", Aemond turns slowly in Rob's direction, his hand resting on your lower back. You whisper warningly to him, "Aemond..."

Rob chuckles slightly, "That's all right. After all, women like to bring the dogs to bed with them at night. That keeps them... warm".

You notice how Aemond stiffens. You also notice how the whole situation recharges.

"Rob? I'll see you later, yeah?", Rob smiles and gives you a quick nod.

You take Aemond by the arm and lead him away.

You stop in front of the royal carriages, the first ones already boarding them.

Aemond caresses your cheek.

You lean into the touch, "I don't like that we can't travel together."

He chuckles softly, "I'll see you when we arrive."

You nod at him. Aemond's gaze wanders briefly and no one seems to be looking, he takes your hand and gently kisses the inside of your wrist. You smile.

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ashesandhackles · 11 months

Text

Goblet of Fire Reread (Part 2)

Chapter 17,18,19, 20,21,22,23

"It struck him how very tall all of them were" Harry thinking this about the champions one moment and then being angry at being called "a little boy". Accurate teenage boy behavior.

Snape stepping in to stop Karkaroff and Maxime insulting Dumbledore by insulting Harry instead, "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules" XD

Fleur really cares about the honour of representing her school.

Hints of Barty Snr under Imperius: both in his behaviour + imagery (skull like appearance in the darkness)

Violet, the witch painting went up to Fat Lady to gossip. We shall hear of this friendship again in HBP.

I really really love Hermione's insight into Ron's feelings here, because the implication here is that she noticed that he doesn't talk about it. "He's always shunted to the side when people see you, and he puts up with it, never mentions it" and how she contextualises it with how he feels around his brothers. She has an understanding and kindness about this that is very sweet.

Fleur flirting with Cedric while some creepy paunchy man watching her. Damn, what it must be like to be sexualised every moment of your life and what harmful ideas have you internalised?

Harry noting that Fleur was part Veela to tell Ron only to remember The Great Tragedy that Ron isn't speaking to him.

weighing of wands chapter to set up the priori Incantentem at end of book, to remind us of Harry's connection with Voldemort's wand.

Hermione trying to force Harry and Ron to talk to each other, poor thing. I can really feel her anxiety building over this and she is so impatient, "you miss him, he misses you". Hermione on Ronarry agenda. She even tries to sneakily make him meet Ron in Three Broomsticks and then Harry cottons on. And then her getting irritated, Harry having to resist the urge to poke Ron is peak trio content.

Harry getting cheered up by the fact that Cho wasn't wearing a support Cedric badge. Also, it's a nice shade to her character - she is nice. She recognises the badges for what it is and doesn't take part in it.

his face breaks into the first smile in days cos of Sirius and Sirius redirecting attention away from himself and focusing on Harry - "never mind me, how are you?" Harry is so vulnerable with him that he talks about Ron with him.

Sirius' respect for Moody is very interesting, he displays more of this in Padfoot Returns chapter where he talks about how Moody captured DEs and not killed them. I believe @leogichidaa and @artemisia-black have had a tumblr discussion on this.

Ron doesn't come up to bed after Harry lashes out at him for interrupting his conversation with Sirius. Poor bean - wondering how things got this bad between him and Harry.

BCJ is so chilling on reread- essentially admits that he is keeping track of real Moody via the Foe Glass. "I'm not really in trouble until I see the whites of their eyes. That's when I open my trunk."

BCJ talking about Maxime and Karkaroff but also himself - 'They want to win. They want to beat Dumbledore. They'd like to prove he's only human'. And he laughs.

Ron catches Harry's eyes, but Harry is too resentful to care. Ron trying, in his own awkward way, to let Harry know that he is on Harry's side again.

Harry not needing to hear Ron apologise to forgive him. Clearly Hermione feels the same as I do, because she burst into tears, hugs them both and goes off to cry alone LOL

I saw this tumblr post about how Fleur dealt with the dragon was the most compassionate one - trying to put it to sleep - that she and Charlie would get along cos of it. Cute hc.

Pigwidgeon falling 12 feet down before flying with the letter is so funny. Also how cute that Harry's letter to Sirius had a "blow by blow" account of how exactly he swerved, circled and dodged the Horntail. Sirius would have found that very endearing.

LOL at Dean drawing Cedric with his head on fire for party banners. (apart from drawings of Harry dodging Horntail)

Harry calling out Hermione for bending of rules is so cute. When she says, "he is supposed to work out the egg on his own" when Lee picks up the egg, and Harry reminds her in undertone that he was supposed to work out the dragon alone too, and she "grins guiltily"

I am very disappointed in Dobby, whose political consciousness that shone and drove the plot of CoS is done to "acceptable" levels of radicalism. He tried to save Harry, explicitly against harry's wishes, because of his idea that Harry is a symbol of hope to the "enslaved dregs of the magical society, who are treated as vermin" and that defeat of Voldemort ensured that his kind are treated better. (he is still endearing, but speaks to the message of the books - he can be radical but cannot question the existing institution too much)

Winky's loyalty to Crouch is treated as pitiable, while Hermione's overzealousness with some gentle ribbing because JKR seems to find it endearing. We will probably get into white saviorism later, because I have THOUGHTS.

Ron and Harry sword fighting with fake wands, which are tin parrot and rubber haddock respectively, is hilarious. (Ron's parrot got the haddock's head)

Cedric telling Hufflepuffs to leave Harry alone. Looks like he was so grateful for Harry's tip, he steps in on the bullying.

Cho's words about who she is going to the ball with echoing with each step Harry took. Peak teenage experience. End of the world your crush has been asked out by someone else.

so funny that Ron keeps trying to ask Hermione who she is going to the ball with at unexpected times to surprise her into answering

love that Hermione was simultaneously appalled by fake-Moody making Malfoy a ferret while also not above referencing that incident to get Malfoy off her back. ("twitchy little ferret, aren't you Malfoy")

Ron notices Hermione's teeth is no longer the same. And Hermione is all sly and mischievous about the fact that she let Madam Pomphrey carry on a bit.

ok this is such a cute description: Hermione sitting to watch Ron and Harry's chess match which had recklessly brave pawns and a violent bishop

Dobby gets socks as presents from both Ron and Harry (reminder Ron also puts socks over his dead body) and Ron's Christmas jumper.

Dumbledore referencing Room of requirement. (he makes a joke that makes Harry snort and Percy frown- I guess he thinks the joke isn't appropriate for international magical cooperation?)

Parvati goes off with a Beauxbaton boy because Harry wasn't paying attention to her. She also lead him while dancing -so much so he felt like a show dog. Love how alpha she is xD

Percy glances at Harry about "hitch with Goblet of Fire" : indication of his coming arc where he doesn't believe Harry. (Also, while Percy is socialising with Bagman, he chooses to sit with Harry and Ron, which is indicative of how awkward he feels i think)

Snape and Karkaroff's conversation will get referenced in Prince's Tale, where Dumbledore grants him -"i think we sort too soon".

the image of Maxime storming away with fairies parting bushes is a very striking.

Chapter 24, 25, 26,27,28

Hermione drops key family history for Harry without either of them realising it: she used Fleamont Potter's Sleakazy's. Also at the implication that Harry asked about her hair LMAO.

Ron and Hermione reaching an unspoken agreement about sidestepping the big fight which involved FEELINGS.

the unicorn preferring a girl's touch is tied around the myth of pure creatures comfortable with "pure souls". I am really not sure how to read the gender politics of this book using this aspect of mythology.

lol, at Parvati being very "cool" towards Harry since the ball. Her retort actually makes him reflect - "perhaps I should have paid her more attention" and then, "ah well, she had a good time anyway". Honestly, stan Parvati.

Harry's so suspicious of Bagman offering him help, and rightly so. I love him putting Bagman on backfoot with his questions.

really curious about goblins and their hierarchy in the wizarding world. they are the marginalised who "fight back".

Rosmerta looking at James Potter, "who used to make her laugh"'s son yelling at a reporter in the middle of her pub XD

Love that Gryffindors get food related passwords like "banana fritters" and poor Ravenclaws have to solve a riddle every time they need to get in.

Where is the fanart of Snape with long grey nightshirt? Where?

Snape shutting Filch up when (in his mind) Moody came in, BCJ using Moody's distrust to check his office. Excellent stuff. My favourite part of the scene is Snape angrily declares Dumbledore's trust in him, and BCJ reminds him of "spots that don't come off". And Snape clutches his Dark Mark (and immediately hates himself for doing it xD)

Okay, Snape conceding power to Moody in this scene is so interesting. When Snape tries to look for Harry, BCJ makes him back off by saying "meaning Dumbledore is very interested to know who's got it in for the boy!" and Snape answers in a forced calm.

the tension between Snape and fake Moody can be cut through with a knife. Love how menacing the scene makes Moody, with Rowling using visual pictures of Moody's scars in the darkness

Lmao, Neville sending Professor Flitwick flying across room in class. And the description of "Professor Flitwick went whizzing resignedly past them" when the trio are talking. The implication that Flitwick just let Neville do his thing… XD

Hermione answering Harry's grim dark joke seriously. Nerd XD so much so the next time she takes Harry's joke seriously, he had to tell her that he is joking lol.

Harry goes off food when he is stressed or upset: a hangover from Dursley days when punishment is "no food".

"Your Wheezy, sir, your wheezy - the thing Harry Potter sir will miss the most!" LOL. The way this book is designed for Ronarry feels.

Merpeople have pet Grindylows. (also the chief is a woman)

Harry actually tries to yank the spear away from merman when they refused to help him, and hits Krum when Krum failed to realise that his shark teeth would hurt Hermione. My little feral boy.

Percy, "who looked very white", splashing out to meet Ron <3

Poor Krum - he is trying to engage Hermione and she is too busy either asking Harry about his task or cheering him for his marks to listen.

I love how much Harry gets so cheered by Sirius' letters. And even as he is tense that Sirius would get caught, he enters Potions classroom happy XD

'Scarlet woman'. It speaks to the generation Molly comes from that she has these ideas, and that Ron has noticed and picked it up.

Hermione, being also aware that Ron's regard for her is less than platonic, "determinedly avoiding Ron's eyes" when she mentions Viktor did invite her. (Also funny that Hermione is trying to puzzle out how Rita heard her, and Ron is like, "nvm, what did you say about Viktor's invitation?" lol)

@urupotterwrote a nice meta about how Snape was deliberately provoking Harry (after harry moves tables) to read his mind. Right when Harry angrily looks up, Snape's eyes bore into him to check if he had broken into his office.

Sirius made them climb a mountain for half an hour lol. He believes in outdoorsy kids.

Sirius having a fuller face, and looking like he is taking care of himself when Harry met him at the fire - but now he is back in his prison robes, his hair is longer and he is thin again. When Sirius broke into the fire, he was clearly at a place where he could hide better and take care of himself. He is living off rats.

And he notices the anxiety on Harry;s face and explains why he is here (he is very good at reading harry's face and just answering his thoughts. He does it again later in the scene). He is worried about how fishy things look, and it is clear one of the reasons of his lack of care for himself is hyperfixating on Harry's safety and circumstances surrounding the tournament. (he also moves a lot when he is thinking - it's part of why he makes for such a strong scene presence. There is either note of how he takes space, or his eyes)

Sirius backs Hermione here about Barty Crouch Snr's treatment of Winky ("if you want to know what a man's like.."). This is important for Hermione's complicated feelings about him in the next book. He was the only adult on her side - even Hagrid, who she counted on, didn't agree with her.

Sirius projecting all his family issues over Barty Crouch Jnr.

Sirius' description of Azkaban is just extremely solitary and drenched in death, and suffering. He can see and hear things that are near his cell or out of the window (he could see Dementors burying who he thought was BCJ outside the fortress). Speaks to the immense violation Barty Crouch Snr has committed by sending him there without a trial. (There is also the fact that Azkaban is horrible, and no one deserves it)

Snuffles, enuff said. He also allows them each to pat them on his head before they leave. how cute.

"If he thought we are standing in way of his career"..ah, seeds of Percy arc of OOTP. Hermione believes in him while Ron doesnt lol.

I haven't mentioned in my notes because it would get too long - but Sirius' exposition about the First War, I think, is important for the atmosphere that leads to friends turning on each other.

also, I really love the note of Sirius, as always, admiring the morals of Mad Eye Moody for trying to bring Death Eaters alive, versus his condemnation of Barty Crouch Snr's methods. This shade of him - combined with the fact that he would have absolutely killed Peter after Jily death if he had the chance, or even the previous book. @artemisia-black wrote about her interpretation of it in this meta.

House elves should be "seen, not heard" philosophy, where they have internalised that anything showing discontent from where they are is undesirable.

Hermione pulling a Blinky episode here XD if the worldbuilding wasn't so shitty, I would actually enjoy a critique of Hermione's impatience here because it is very in line with steam of young activists finding roadblocks within the very people they want to help.

Chekhov's gun: the eagle owl Harry observes flying over Hagrid's hut - the same owl we see in Harry's dream with Voldemort later.

Maxime is apparently trying to make up to Hagrid - she watches Hagrid's class and even tries to engage him in a conversation prior to this. Maybe she feels sorry about how the story about Hagrid's mother come out in the Prophet and wants to bond? What did Maxime face because of her parentage?

Ron being upset that the gold he paid Harry back with vanished, and how he hates being poor and how both Harry and Hermione don't know what to say: Hermione tries to cheer him up by saying she will get him a Niffler for Christmas, how cute.

harry regularly sending Sirius food and little notes with them. I CANT. they have my heart, they are everything.

love that Fleur and Cedric are apparently friendly enough that she keeps going on about underground tunnels to him, and how Fleur beams at Harry when he comes.

Harry and Cedric being jocks, and how they are less than happy with the state of the Quidditch pitch lol.

Dumbledore uses the Patronus to summon Hagrid. A known method of communication between the Order. ("a ghostly bird")

love the dynamic of Fred and George arguing: George seems to be the more cautious one of the two, saying putting something like that in writing is blackmail, while Fred is like, "You're not going to complain once we get the pay off, would you?" But the moment Ron asks what's up with them, George backs Fred and sends the letter himself.

I also really loved the moment of the trio confronting the twins. It was hilarious. it shows all their priorities - both Fred and Ron with confrontational and surprised, "what are you doing here?" and Harry and George on defensive, "sending letter?" and both Fred and Hermione with a suspicious, "What, at this time?"

Hermione still uncomfortable with the idea of breaking laws: "This isnt some silly school rule, it's the law". Given where they all end up in DH (honestly even OOTP), this is interesting. She even advises Ron to reach out to Percy to stop whatever the twins are doing, and Ron's like, "Are you mad? He would probably do a Crouch and turn them in!" XD

Harry being annoyed at Sirius being an Overbearing Dad XD "Who is he, to lecture me after all the stuff he did at school?"

Chekhov's gun: insect buzzing somewhere behind the curtain. Rita Skeeter.

Also seeing Crouch Snr struggle against the Imperius put on him by Voldemort tells us how incredible it is that Harry throws it off in the graveyard

Harry connecting the magic of Pensieve with the diary through means of his experience. Could be a cool worldbuilding detail if we want to think about how Tom preserved his "memory" in the diary, along with it being a container for his soul.

important to understand how Voldemort operates: he alone knows who works for him, and others get exposed to each other via shared jobs or connections. This adds to what Sirius says in Padfoot returns chapter.

Mulciber specialised in the Imperius, as per Karkaroff's testimony. Could he have done something in similar vein to Mary MacDonald? It could also be talked of as a "laugh" since students do find Moody's control of the spider in Unforgivables class darkly funny.

"He is no more a Death Eater than I am": Dumbledore's vouching of Snape is strong. I would love a fic that explores Snape and Dumbledore's equation in First War, and how Dumbledore sees bits of himself in a young man who also thinks he is brilliant, and wants power, but ends up hurting the person he loves in his blindness.

The trial essentially feels like a gladiator ring, with the accused chained to the chair. (Of course, Bagman doesnt get chained to the chair due to the relative popularity with the jury)

Ah, BCJ. His reaction here depends on how you read his involvement with Longbottoms - whether he actually did it, or whether he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Of course, the book, with Cruciatus scene with spider, heavily suggest that he was indeed guilty. So, it is interesting to see his terror here - he is genuinely terrified of going to Azkaban, but he is also using his genuine terror to appeal to his parents, to get out and be free. (He does similar things throughout the book - use his real dislike of Malfoys, Snape but misdirect you about his motivations). It's a nice manipulative streak.

"You're no son of mine!" "Take them away, and may they rot there." I need a Crouch family deep dive, because it is essentially a version of Walburga burning her son's name off after he ran away. which is: "I want to pretend you don't even exist."

a very astute reader pointed out on reddit how Moody is not present for the Longbottoms trial (and his eyes were intact on both trials before). So the hc is that Bellatrix took out Moody's eye and he was recovering in the hospital at the time.

#hp reread #goblet of fire #harry james potter #barty crouch jr #barty crouch junior #sirius black #hermione granger #ron weasley #percy weasley #moody

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saintsenara · 28 days

Note

I’ve been loving you talking about Romione moments! I was wondering what your fav overlooked moment from the earlier books was, you can name a bunch (seriously please spoil me).

+ a cute thing I noticed: I was flipping through a copy of GOF and never realized ever since Hermione tells Ron she’s going with someone and won’t say who, he asks CONSTANTLY. There’s this scene the day of the ball where they’re all having a snowball fight and then Hermione leaves to go get ready and Ron asks “what? You need three hours to get ready??” Hermione scoffs and he yells after her asking who she’s going with, and he gets so distracted one of the twins hits him in the head with a snowball 🤣

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

my favourite blink-and-you'll-miss-it romione moment in the earlier books is, without a doubt, the fact that hermione likes playing chess with ron, even though she's not very good at it:

The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harry headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where he found Ron and Hermione playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something Harry and Ron thought was very good for her.

this sounds quite minor in the grand scheme of things, i know.

but hermione is shown - throughout canon - to be someone who can really struggle with not being automatically good at things, and who has a tendency to be a sore loser as a result - especially in circumstances, as i'm sure is the case for many of us in our real lives, where she thinks her opponent isn't taking her seriously.

it says a lot about the respect that both she and ron have for each other that she feels comfortable coming second to him. and it also says a lot about the fact that ron - for all he's dismissed by the fandom as lazy and dimwitted, especially when authors want to pair hermione with someone else - has a genuine passion for chess which must come across in a way which is neither boring nor condescending.

indeed, that ron is extremely sincere is a trait which is often underappreciated about his character. and it's clear that this is something which hermione really values about him, as we see a few times in canon. their first kiss is the obvious example, but this part in deathly hallows is my fave:

Hermione was watching Ron fret over the fate of the Cattermoles, and there was such tenderness in her expression that Harry felt almost as if he had surprised her in the act of kissing him.

or, in other words, ron spends seven years gradually reeling in the love of his life by seeming to give a shit about things. legend behaviour.

[and he was scrambling in the run-up to the ball - and it always sends me - because he clearly realised just how badly he'd fucked it. hermione was right to shout at him. he could have had everything he'd wanted if he'd - guess what! - just been sincere about his feelings for her instead of putting on the "i'm too cool for eloise midgen" act. hence another favourite moment of mine - when ron deeps hermione's complaints in goblet of fire about not realising she's a girl (that is, not taking her desire to be understood as a sexual being seriously), gets his act together, and buys her perfume for christmas in order of the phoenix.]

#asks answered #asenora's opinions on ships #romione #hermione granger #ron weasley

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gracexthoughts · 2 months

Text

of violent delights chap 23

arguments

1 november 1996

Euphemia’s POV

I sit across from the Headmaster, morning sunlight streaming in through the windows, and listen to him make excuses after excuses. We’ve been arguing for about 20 minutes now. Harry and the Triwizard Tournament was all I could think about when I woke up this morning, so I slipped out of bed and dressed earlier than I normally would on a Sunday morning.

I went to the Owlery first and sent the letters I scribbled out last night to Remus and Sirius and then to Dumbledore’s office, armed with multiple options that I felt were all perfectly reasonable. Every single one has been shot down. McGonagall stands next to Dumbledore’s desk, watching mostly in silence; although I can tell she agrees with me more than she’ll say.

“The Goblet constitutes a binding contact. Harry must participate in the tournament,” Dumbledore says in the same calm and lightly condescending tone he has spoken to me with since I entered his office.

“You can’t hold him to a contract someone else signed for him! He is a child!” I respond, beyond exasperated and pissed off.

“Euphemia, the world has been far too cruel for either of you to still be considered children,” he responds, tilting his head slightly.

“How can you not see a problem with that? So what, you consider him an adult so you’ll force him through even more trauma for the entertainment of the masses?” I snap back, not believing that the man who has always seemed to genuinely care for Harry and I could be so cavalier about this.

“Miss Potter, I will ask you to speak to the Headmaster with the tone deserving of him and is becoming of a Gryffindor,” McGonagall scolds.

“Harry is a minor in the eyes of the law and I am his guardian, not you!” I press on, my eyes boring into the man across from me without acknowledging I heard my Head of House. “I have spent my entire life trying to give him as normal a life as possible and you have the audacity to sit there and tell me it was useless? That you are willing to continually put him through trials that he is not old enough to consent to? Do you care at all that every single year he has attended this school he has been put in danger, almost dying at least three times in three years? How can you sit here and look me in the eyes and tell me that is acceptable in any way?” I’m yelling now but I don’t care. They can give me detention for the next two years if it means Harry is pulled from the tournament. Dumbledore doesn’t speak for a long, tense moment; he just sits still and stares at me as I’m a disappointing child he can’t figure out how to push in the right direction.

“Are you quite finished?” He says finally but I don’t respond. I just grit my teeth and hold back what I think of him at this moment. “Good. Now I consulted with Mr. Crouch on this issue last night and he stated, as I have already told you, that the rules are absolute. If a person’s name comes out of the Goblet of Fire, regardless of age or intent, they are obligated by a magically binding contract to participate. While Harry must compete, I assure you that I am doing everything in my power to discover exactly how his name ended up flying out of the goblet.” Dumbledore sits forwards and folds his hands on his desk, his eyes boring into me over his crescent moon spectacles. I hold his gaze for a moment before looking up at McGonagall but she doesn’t quite meet my eyes so I look back to the Headmaster, the supposedly most powerful wizards alive. “Now, will that be all, Miss Potter?”

I swallow a scoff, biting the inside of my cheek so hard I’m sure it's bleeding. After a moment, I stand from my chair and step towards the large desk, now looking down at the man.

“If anything happens to my brother, I will hold you personally responsible,” I say slowly, leaning my hands on his desk.

“I have no doubt, Miss Potter. You are every bit your parents’ child, after all,” he says pleasantly, as if we were having a pleasant chat about my goals in life. This time I don’t hold back my scoff as I push away from the desk and turn on my heel, leaving his office and slamming the door behind me.

I storm back into the Gryffindor Tower and head back into my room, the long walk through the castle doing nothing to lessen my anger. I open the door to my room to see Harry and Mattheo talking very seriously by the fire. At the sound of the door, both their heads whip to me and Harry’s eyes meet mine.

“Mia, I swear I didn’t-”

“I know,” I respond immediately, knowing my brother well enough to know glory isn’t something he chases. “I just came from Dumbledore’s office…” I look over Harry’s shoulder to Matt, who’s looking down at the fire.

“What did he say?” Harry asks, a small sliver of hope in his eyes.

“He said there’s nothing to be done, I can’t believe it but he didn’t budge,” I sigh and shake my head and the tiny sliver of hope in his eyes fades. I step further into the room and wrap my arms around him, one hand on the back of his head as he rests his forehead on my shoulder and his arms around my waist, the way we’d hold each other when we were little and scared; although now he’s several inches taller than me.

“I’m so sorry, Haz,” I whisper, blinking tears away, refusing to show him how truly terrified I am for him. “I’m gonna help you, okay?” I say, pulling back to look into his eyes, “I’ll teach you anything you need to know, we’ll get you through this. I promise.”

“I know, Mia. It’s not your fault,” Harry says quietly.

“Did they tell you about the first task?” Harry nods.

“Supposed to test our courage they said but wouldn’t say how. It's on the 28th, we can’t ask for help from teachers and we can only have our wands with us.”

“Don’t give you much to go on, huh?” Mattheo adds quietly.

“I’ll put together a list of spells that might come in handy, and I can teach you the ones you don’t know already. And I’ll see if I can find any information on what the tasks have been in the past, see if we can get any idea of what you’ll face and I’ve written to Sirius and Remus,” Harry startles for a moment at me using Sirius’ real name, glancing at Mattheo for a moment but he must not care that I’ve told him because the look faded quickly, “Maybe Dumbledore will listen to them or maybe they have some information about the Tournament, but let's not worry about it today, okay?” Harry nods again, his eyes cast down.

“I have to go to this stupid photo thing,” he says quietly and I watch as Harry moves to the door and opens it slowly, like going back into the world is the last thing he wants.

“Hey, Haz,” I call, causing him to turn around, “Don’t listen to anyone else, ‘kay? We know the truth, what anyone else thinks doesn’t matter.” Harry nods, forcing a small smile my way before stepping out of my room, the door closing behind me.

As soon as the door closes, all the strength drains from my body and I slump onto the edge of my bed, head in my hands as tears threaten to spill over onto my cheeks.

“Harry’s a smart kid… He’ll be okay,” Mattheo says softly, as I hear his footsteps coming closer till he is kneeling in front of me, his hands on my knees, rubbing small circles with his thumbs. I drop my hands from my face and look at my boyfriend, his warm brown eyes filled with worry and sympathy.

“What if he’s not okay? I mean they added an age requirement for a reason and even then they made no assurance of safety. What if he-” My throat tightens as tears spill onto my cheeks and panic threatens to overtake me again but Matt stands and pulls me into his arms, my head resting on his chest, his heart beating softly.

“He’s gonna be okay, princess. We’ll help him and he’ll get through it just like he always has,” he says softly, rubbing my back and running his fingers through my hair. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Why would anyone do this to him?” I ask distantly, only one or two names come to mind but I hesitate to speak them outloud, realizing for the first time in a while that the man standing in front of me is his son, and the second is his uncle. He wouldn’t… No, he couldn’t have, he’s not old enough. Get it together, Euphemia.

“Mia, I promise I had nothing to do with it,” Mattheo starts, seeming to read the direction my mind went.

“No, I know,” I say quickly, standing up and cupping his face with my hands. “I trust you, Matt. Promise… Do you think Malfoy’s father might have something to do with it? He did give Ginny your father’s diary a few years back.” Mattheo’s face scrunches up in thought and steps back, shaking his head.

“I don’t know if Lucius is crafty enough for something like this,” he says quietly. “The diary would have been easy to slip into her things and easy to hide his guilt but… I can’t even fathom how you would trick a magical object like the Goblet of Fire.’

“But who else? Do you think…” Mattheo turns to me quickly, a dark look flashing in his eyes.

“My father is dead,” he says bluntly.

“Right… No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought him up,” I say, hugging my arms across my core, my bottom lip caught between my teeth as I think.

“It’s alright, I don’t blame you. It’s a… natural leap, I guess.” Mattheo and I stand there in the tensest silence since he cornered me at the start of term. I take a step forward and pull Matt’s face down to mine, connecting our lips.

“I trust you,” I mutter between kisses, and his arms wrap more tightly around me, pulling me so close I feel like we might just melt together.

“I know, princess. I trust you too,” he whispers back, resting his forehead against mine. “It’s all good, baby.”

✦

13 november 1996

I used to think that my fourth year, when Harry and I were suspected of opening the Chamber of Secrets and treated like social pariahs, was the worst case scenario. Well, let’s just say that this time around, no one is afraid we will petrify them so they’ve gotten much braver. Malfoy, charming as ever, managed to get his hands on a bunch of Hermione’s S.P.E.W. badges and transformed them into buttons which read all sorts of nasty things: Potter Stinks, Support Cedric Diggory, the REAL Hogwarts Champion, Diggory Rules, Potter Drools etc. Half the school is wearing them, much to Hermione’s dismay since barely anyone wore her version of the badges before.

Mattheo, protective as ever, has spent much of his time glaring at anyone who dares to look at me sideways and has gotten into multiple fights in defense of me. I’ve pulled him out of two confrontations today alone, and we’re barely halfway though the day. Honestly, with how many fights he gets in, I’m surprised they haven’t taken his prefect badge away yet. The Twins have been enacting vengeance in their own ways, mostly through pranks and charming the buttons to say nasty things about the wearer instead.

Harry and Ron are at odds, also, so Harry has been spending more time than normal with me. I’ve been trying to help with defensive spells and curses to prepare him for the first tasks and he is picking them up quickly, but it doesn’t help much to assuage our anxiety.

“Hi Potter, how’s your day going? Like the badge?” Elladora coos from behind me in the library, pulling my mind from my studies. Typical that she chose the only period I don’t share with Mattheo today to come taunt me. I’ve got a free period after lunch while Matt is stuck in Arithmancy.

“Bugger off, Lestrange,” I say without turning or looking up from my Potions essay.

“What? You don’t want to see my badge?” She says, stalking around me before leaning over the table, but I still don’t look up.

“Honestly, I couldn’t give fewer shits about anything having to do with you,” I say with a flat tone, flipping through my text book.

“Hm, well, it’s alright I suppose. I’ll have plenty of time to show it off. Real shame you’ve drug Mattheo into your mess and sullied him with your tainted blood,” Elladora coos cruelly.

“You do know that he's a half blood, yes? Just like me,” I say simply, finally looking up at the girl. She wears a Potter Stinks badge, her unruly dark hair tied up in a bun so as to ensure the badge is always visible. “So either we are both tainted or neither of us are. You can’t have it both ways, Ella,” I continue, purposefully using her nickname and her lip curls up in a sneer.

“Half Blood bitch,” she sneers, leaning closer to my face but I don’t back up, determined to not give Elladora Lestrange a single second of satisfaction.

“Damn, got me there. How’d you come up with your insults? They’re just so unique,” I snark back dryly and stand, grabbing my belongings to push past the Slytherin girl to find somewhere with actual peace.

“Your brother is going to die,” she calls after me, stopping me in my tracks. “Everyone knows it.” Without even thinking, I drop everything from my arms and whip around, punching Elladora straight in the nose so hard she stumbles back into the table I was sitting at, all the anxiety and anger and stress from the last few weeks boiling over. Luckily, I had chosen to set up in a back corner of the library, so no one is currently around to witness my outrage. The girl sits on the floor, blood beginning to drip from her nose as she glares up at me.

“Keep mine, my brother’s and my boyfriend’s names out of your disgusting prejudiced mouth, or I’ll do a lot worse next time,” I say lowly, anger coursing through my body as I turn on my heel, summon my belongings back into my arms with wandless magic and storm out of the library, through the castle and up to the Astronomy Tower.

I’m there nearly an hour later when Mattheo climbs the steps, coming to meet me after his Arithmancy lesson. “Hey, Princess,” he says lightly and I turn my head to face him, offering him a half smile. “Oof, that bad, huh?” he asks, pulling out his own cigarette as I take a drag of mine.

“Just tired,” I say softly, looking out over the grounds, the trees have almost all lost their leaves and the color seems to be leaking from the world under the gray sky.

“Oi! Potter!” Theo’s voice echoes up the stairs, accompanied by heavy footsteps.

“Mia! Are you up here?” Fred’s voice calls and both Mattheo and I turn around to see Enzo and Theo bounding up the stairs, followed surprisingly by Fred and George. While our friends have each, for the most part, accepted mine and Mattheo’s relationship, getting them to all be friends has been a little more challenging. Well just the boys really; Astoria, Angelina, Alicia and I all get on great.

“Is it true?” Enzo huffs breathlessly, hunching over as he tries to catch his breath.

“Is what true?” Mattheo asks, looking between the three of us.

“Mia sucker punched Ella! We saw her running to the infirmary with blood dripping from her nose muttering about that ‘stupid Potter bitch.’” Theo says.

So if it is true?” Freddie asks, recovering his breath.

I hold up my right hand, knuckles turning slightly bruised already and Theo, Enoz, George and Fred start cracking up.

“Oh man, what I would’ve paid to see that!” laughs Enzo.

“Can’t blame you, honestly. I’ve been wondering when the perfect act was gonna crack under the pressure.” Theo responds.

“Good on you, Phe. She’s been asking for that for years!” Freddie whoops, high fiving George.

“What happened?” Mattheo asks seriously, cradling my hand in his. I just shrug.

“She was being a bitch, doesn’t matter,” I sigh, leaning back against a stone pillar and taking a final drag of my cigarette before stubbing it out and flicking it over the edge of the tower.

“Mia…” Mattheo says, stepping closer to me, holding my gaze intently. the intensity between us causing the other two boys to quiet down for a moment.

“She said Harry is going to die,” I whisper, barely able to utter the words, as if speaking them allowed will make them a reality. Mattheo’s face hardens before my eyes and I can practically see the battle raging behind his eyes, to stay and comfort me or go after her. “It’s whatever, I took care of it.”

“Are you okay?” He asks and I nod. “Hand hurt?”

“Yeah,” I admit, flexing my hand slightly.

“Kinda wish I was there. I bet you looked so hot,” Mattheo mutters, looking down at me, my hand still held gently in his.

“You’re ridiculous,” I chuckle.

“Man, Mia, I can’t believe you actually punched her!” George laughs, shaking his head.

“Listen, we were going to plan a prank on Malfoy for making those bloody badges and now, we can extend the target rage,” Fred says, deviously.

“We’ll help,” Enzo offers, patting Theo on the back as well.

“Really?” George questions, looking suspicious.

“Hell yeah,” Mattheo says, “They need to pay.”

And I watch as the five boys all smile deviously at each other, and I can’t help but smile as I watch some of my favorite people in the world get completely and totally on the same side for once.

a/n; im a dumbledore anti if you cant tell lmao also ik we all hate elladora, i hate her and she’s my oc lmao but i do kinda have fun writing her esp this chapter lol

also I’m gonna be traveling for a few weeks so idk how much time I’ll get to write/post but i will let you know day of when i post and if you want to be added to the taglist lmk!! thanks for reading as always loves❤️

taglist; @purplegardenwhispers @somethingswiftandstyles @weasleyreidstyles @mayamonroem @girlbooklover555 @abaker74 @stxrsberkshire

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #matteo riddle #harry potter fandom #hogwarts oc #hogwarts #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hp fanfic #wizarding world #hogwarts houses #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle imagines #mattheo riddle #slytherin boys #matty riddle

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