#hooded shawl | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sapphire-writes · 1 year

Text

The Hidden Daughter

pairing: Aemond x Baratheon!Reader request: hi love your work :) would love to request an aemond x baratheon reader-in which there is a 5th daughter that her father keeps hidden as she is his favorite she is shy at first but is smary and has fire. you can imagine aemonds surprise when he sees her patting and talking to vhagar. possessive aemond and smut please maybe on top of vhagar :) by @ivvypg note: LOVE some possessive Aemond, love this request! hope you enjoy 💚 warnings: possessiveness, SMUT, choking, smut is below the cut be warned it's dirty and on DRAGONBACK! word count: 1.6k masterlist

Aemond was presented with a feast when he arrived at Storm’s End. A feast, a tourney, and a melee for his honor. Along with being presented with Lord Borros’ four daughters; any of whom he would be allowed to claim for marriage. Little did he know, a fifth daughter lived within the walls of Storm’s End, not present during his arrival.

You were Lord Borros' favorite. Your fire and free spirit reminded him so much of himself, he couldn’t bear the thought of being parted from you. You were his last child, his final daughter and he was not ready to give you up. Even to a prince.

You were out picking flowers when the one-eyed prince arrived, something you did often to avoid the dreary halls of the castle. Your father allowed you to go as the prince arrived, hoping Aemond would choose which daughter he wished to wed immediately upon his arrival. Though it was raining, you wore a shawl that shielded you from the freezing drops. You found that a rainstorm was the best time to explore the edges of the woods, in search of new flora.

While tracing the edge of the forest she was met with a monstrous roar. Snapping your head up, you dropped your basket as you came face to face with the oldest, largest dragon in the world. Your eyes widened as you looked upon Vhagar, lips parting in shock. Vhagar roared again, the sound shaking the ground beneath your feet. The very sky seemed to listen to Vhagar as the clouds let their rain stop.

“You’re a wonderful beast, aren’t you?” you tell Vhagar, who roars again, shooting a stream of fire into the air above her. You laugh in surprise.

“I have never seen a dragon before,” you tell her, and she looks at you as if understanding.

“I am not speaking your mother tongue, am I?” you say, pouting, “I am probably confusing you greatly, my apologies lady!”

Vhagar lets out a high-pitched chirp, much like a large bird. You laugh again.

“Do you like me?” you ask, taking a step closer. Vhagar roars again, a warning. You hold your hands open in surrender.

“I won’t come closer if you wish,” you tell her, “but I may have something for you.”

You reach for your basket, picking underneath the flowers you collected. You had packed yourself lunch, a fresh meat pie, wrapped in cloth. You took it out, unwrapping it, the pastry still steaming. Vhagar lifted her nose, sniffing the air. Your face broke out in a smile.

“Smells good?” you ask, and Vhagar chirps again. You walk a few feet closer placing the pie in front of her. You back up quickly as she lashes out, snatching the pie and a chunk of the earth into her gullet.

“That could have been me!” you scold, and Vhagar makes a sound like a purring cat.

“What are you doing?”

You jump back, the smile leaving your face at the arrival of the one-eyed prince, causing the hood of your cloak to fall back. Aemond assesses you before walking over to Vhagar patting her jaw as she continues to purr.

“Your grace,” you choke, before curtseying.

“Who are you?”

“Lady Y/N Baratheon, your grace.”

“Lord Borros assured me he had four daughters,” he told you, “he lied?”

“Yes, my prince,” you admit. You do not wish to betray your father, but know there is no other way out of the situation. You cannot lie to the prince.

“Why?”

“He wishes to keep me at Storm’s End.”

Aemond looks you up and down and looks at how Vhagar responds to you. He takes in your appearance, skirts muddied from trailing through the wildflower beds of the forest. You cross your arms as he examines you thoroughly with his one-seeing eye.

“That simply will not do,” he says, a smirk appearing on his face.

“What shall not do?” you ask, brows coming together.

“Who is a lord to deny a prince?” he continues, walking over to you. You feel your breath coming in your pants.

“Who would you wish to belong to, my lady?” he asks, placing a hand on your cheek, “your father or a prince who rides the largest, strongest dragon in the world?”

He is dangerously handsome, so much it steals the breath from your lungs.

“I do not know, my prince. I prefer to belong to myself”

This causes Aemond to chuckle.

“I shall make the decision easy for you. I choose you. Your father said I could have any of his daughters. He hid you from me, but not well enough.”

Aemond places a thumb on your lower lip, tugging it gently. Your eyes are wide as you gaze upon him. The look in his eyes is that of a man starved.

“Do you wish to ride her?” he asks. Your eyes widen.

“Would you allow it?”

Aemond nods, ushering you toward the ropes that lead to Vhagar’s back. Vhagar’s large green eyes watch you as you begin your ascent. You are sure you can see the entirety of the Stormlands as you walk across her back.

As Aemond climbs on behind you, he leads you to the saddle in the middle of her back. It looks almost comical, and you wonder how he is able to steer such a large dragon. He throws a leg over the saddle, sitting down.

“You sit in front, my lady,” he tells you, patting the space in front of him, “to see the view.”

You do as you’re told, and Aemond speaks something in High Valyrian that makes Vhagar lift her large head, spread her wings and take to the skies. The wind blows through your hair and you cannot help the excited laugh that escapes your lips.

What wondrous fun it must be to be a Targaryen. How freeing it must be to take to the skies whenever you want. Aemond’s hands tighten around your waist, causing heat to flood through your body.

“This is amazing!” Aemond swallows your happy giggles with a kiss, as he turns your face towards him. His tongue opens your mouth to him and you moan, feeling a tingling sensation between your legs.

He grabs your thighs, turning you around in the saddle to face him. You wrap your legs around his waist, pressing your clothed core into the hard bulge of his pants, gasping at the contact. He brings his hand between you, under your skirts, pulling at your small clothes. He lets a finger slide through your slick folds, teasing your sensitive clit. You jerk your hips at the stimulation.

“Do you wish to give yourself to me?” he asks, kissing your lips once more, “let me make you my princess.”

You swallow, every nerve in your body singing with his words. Princess. Aemond Targaryen’s lady, his princess.

“Yes,” you tell him, wetting your lips. He smiles triumphantly.

He undoes his breeches, a well-endowed cock coming free. He tears away the remainder of your small clothes, lifting your hips over his. Your jaw slacks as you sink your cunt onto his hardened cock, sheathing him completely within your heat. He lets you set the pace at first, one hand still holding the reins of Vhagar. Your cunt feels magical, hot, and pulsating around him with every stroke.

You bounce slightly on his cock, the soft moans pouring from your mouth music to Aemond’s ears. The exposed tops of your breasts jiggle with every bounce and Aemond buries his face between them, placing wet kisses on the soft flesh.

He soon grows impatient with your pace, bringing his hands to your waist lifting you up, and slamming you down on his cock. The new ferocity makes you cry out, causing Aemond to smile wickedly.

“Scream as loud as you need, my lady,” he says, voice rough, “let them hear you from the skies.”

You do as you’re told, obscene moans leaving your mouth as he continues to guide you on his cock. You dig your hands into his shoulders, using the leverage to aid him, rotating your hips at a desperate pace as your pleasure builds. Aemond brings one of his hands-free, snaking it up the front of your gown until it comfortably wraps around your throat.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he growls and you whimper, “say it.”

“I am yours,” you moan, throwing your head back, and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“No one else's.”

“No one, only yours,” you promise him, continuing to bounce on his length, wet noises filling the open air.

“Your father could never keep you from me,” he says, squeezing his hand just enough, you feel deliciously light-headed, “you were made for me and me alone.”

“Yes, just for you,” you cry. Aemond drops his hand between you both, rubbing circles on the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs.

“Cum for me,” he demands, “give your pleasure to me.”

You do as he commands, and with a final scream, you fall apart around him. Your limbs turn to jelly as you feel him release within you, sheathed so deeply within you, you feel him pressed against the entrance of your womb.

“He shan’t keep you from me,” Aemond says breathlessly, grabbing your face and pressing a searing kiss to your lips.

“I shall fuck you full of my children,” he promises, “silver babes created in the skies.”

You nod furiously, drunk with pleasure, wanting only to please him.

“You would like that wouldn’t you?” he croons, noticing your cock dumb expression. You feel his cock within you twitch, becoming hard once more.

“Yes,” you whimper, clinging to him as though he is the only thing keeping you secure to Vhagar’s back. He bites his lip, a growl emitting from deep within his chest.

He lifts his hips, thrusting up into you once more.

“Then let us continue, my lady.”

#aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond smut #hotd smut

3K notes · View notes

sprout-fics · 8 months

Text

Rotes Mädchen: Chapter 5

(Werewolf! König x Red Riding Hood! Reader)

(Art by the lovely @zwienzixes)

(Masterlist)

Word count: 5.6k Rating: PG-13 Tags: Werewolf! König, Fairytale AU, Monster Hunters TF141, Traditional German Fairytale setting, World Building/Lore, F! Reader, Sexual tension, Slow burn, Domesticity, Literal sleeping together, Bed sharing, Angst/Comfort, Fluff Warnings: Sexual harassment by unnamed characters

In the days that follow, you begin to feel your heart unfurl.

You wake before König most mornings, pad on bare feet to the hearth with its still glowing embers and allow fire to blossom under your hands. The infant flames ward off the growing chill of dawn, light against the planes of your face until they crackle against the logs. It's the sound of splintering wood and bubbling steam from the kettle that often wakes König, who refuses to draw from bed. Instead, he tucks himself closer into the covers, growls at the thought of wakefulness and dozes a little longer. You find it oddly endearing, and it makes sense, given his seemingly nocturnal nature and with the both of you spending long hours into the night talking about all manner of things.

"I've always loved the stars." He tells you one late evening, while you perch in the loft with him, a shawl draped over your shoulders and legs dangling over the edge. He gazes up at the beams of the cabin as if he can see the sky beyond. "I learned when I was a boy to navigate by the sky. I know the winter constellations- see?" He leans over to you, shoulders bumping and raising a hand to trace invisible paths beyond the ceiling. "There's der Wasserman, the water bearer- and der Widder, the ram."

You smile, lean further into him as if you can somehow see the heavens beyond his gaze. He smells like ferns, of damp soil and pine. It floats through your thoughts, holds you cradled against his side until your eyes grow heavy to the sound of his voice.

When you wake the next morning, you find yourself in your bed, one of his blankets tucked around your shoulders, and the faint memory of being aloft in his arms.

The blanket smells like him.

König stays inside during the daytime lest he be seen by your neighbors. You venture out on most days, relishing the sunlight on his behalf. There's always work to be done in the village, and for you, who lives alone, that goes thrice fold. You hike up your skirt as you chop wood for the stove, dig through damp earth for mushrooms and roots to trade for meat, gather apples from the wild orchards, let bread dough rise above the hearth so the scent fills the cottage. Normally the things that feel mundane, perhaps even a hindrance, are now tinted with a soft sense of joy- knowing that once they are finished you return home to him and his company.

There's a tenderness in your heart that you fail to notice at first. It blooms like soft spring flowers, hides the gentle pale of its petals until sunlight washes over it. The air you breathe feels lighter, scented with rosemary hanging from the rafters, filling your lungs in a way that is wholly unfamiliar and yet so welcome. It feels much like the sound of his voice, the brief glancing touches he seems almost afraid to offer. When you meet his stare, the green of his eyes feels like a misty springtime meadow.

König is gentle with you in a way no one else has ever been. He's a touch shy, but in a way that's blessedly endearing. He calls you by soft names, Fraulein, Liebchen, and your favorite: Rotty- a play on your red cloak. He drapes it around you one morning, tying the ribbon with fumbling fingers as his eyes dart from yours to the lopsided bow. When you smile at the sound of his voice, his eyes alight with joy that bleeds into your soul. The companionship between you two comes as naturally as breathing, two lonely souls gently entwining themselves against the growing November frost to keep warm the slow filling of your hearts.

You can't deny the glances you steal when he isn't looking, watching the way he stretches so his just too-small shirt rides up the planes of his stomach or the reach of his muscular arms as he climbs the ladder to the loft. You thought his build was wiry at first, the way he was hunched in his cave, frightened and scared. Yet the more König shares your meals with you the more he fills out, adding bulk to the broadness of his shoulders and thighs.

"See something you like, fraulein?" He asks playfully when he catches you ogling him one evening as the fire glows warmly against his skin. You only return the humor in his voice with your grin.

"I like you." You reply and laugh when he splutters. Yet then he rubs the back of his neck and turns, and the moment is lost.

There's a strangeness between you two that falls in the silence. You lay awake in your bed at night, listening to him snore softly in the loft, and feel your face warm when you wonder what it would be like to fall asleep in his arms. You remember the way he relaxed into your embrace when you looped your arms around him from behind on the night he told you of his mother, wishing he would draw you closer into him in the same way you wanted him. You want to feel the warmth of him bleed into you, chase away the distant ache of your heart as he whispers your name in the darkness.

You...might want him.

Yet, you aren't sure if König wants you.

It goes beyond his shyness. There seems to be a hesitancy to König sometimes that you can't fully understand. Every time he draws closer, lets his voice grow a touch softer, and you think maybe he'll reach out and touch you, he withdraws. Almost as if he doesn't trust himself, as if he won't allow himself. There’s secrets in him that wind around his heart like brambles. You want to reach out in the space he's left absent, tell him to come closer. Yet König seems to know that he might prick your fingers, draw red from the pad of your thumb like the same curse that befell Aurora.

He seems haunted by something you can't see, something that makes him toss and turn on some nights, muttering in his sleep. Yet by the time you climb up to the loft to try to wake him, he's settled once more into stillness, and his nightmares remain a mystery. Come morning his eyes are full of warmth, and the affection in them is sometimes so profound you have to avert your gaze as your face warms under his stare.

You wish he would tell you the things he is hiding, hope that it fills the unknowable distance between you so you can indulge in the feeling of his embrace. Maybe if he tells you, he’ll allow himself to harbor affections for you in the same way you do for him. You wonder, sometimes, if you'll ever get to know the things concealed by the brambles of his heart. Maybe if you push too hard he'll leave you, and you'll be alone again.

You wish...he would stay.

-----

When you arrive at Laswell's, the mood is sour.

You enter into a quiet scene, one filled only by the hushed discussions around Laswell's table and the crackling hearth beside it. They seem not to notice you as you enter and close the door behind you. You eye your companions uneasily, instantly able to discern the low, roiling tone of frustration and restlessness that permeates the cottage.

Price is leaning back in his chair at the table, arms crossed, brow furrowed, having not even lit his pipe- a tell-tale sign of uneasiness. Beside him, Soap leans into his hands with a similar expression, listening to whatever hushed words Laswell is saying to them. Gaz casts them anxious looks from where he crouches near the hearth, tending the flames. You feel the atmosphere press heavily down on your shoulders, stale the air in your lungs as you perch nervously by the heavy oak door.

It's Ghost who notices you, dark eyes flicking up to yours with a quiet greeting. It seems to startle the rest of them from their reverie, eyes turning towards you as you approach with a tender, anxious smile.

"Red." Laswell breathes, and the flintiness fades from her stare into something more familiar. "Please, come sit."

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should interrupt what seems to be a serious discussion. Yet there seems to be a relief in the expressions of your friends, so you settle on the chair Laswell has kicked out with her foot for you, depositing a basket of goods atop the table.

"What's all this?" Soap asks, quick to rifle through the contents of the basket, pulling aside the cloth atop it with eager fingers.

"Some bread, jam, dried fruit, a little bit of lamb." You supply, grinning as Soap's eyes light up happily. The announcement seems to dispel the growing air of anxiousness in the cabin with a sigh of gratitude. "I figured it's a lot to feed four hungry witchers. I'd rather you not eat Kate out of house and home."

Gaz strides over as well, plucking a glass jar of jam from Soap's hands and examining it with a broad grin. He turns it over in his hands a few times before his gaze alights upon you, eyes relieved and appreciative.

"I haven't had blackberry jam in ages." He conveys softly, a touch tender but more than pleased. "Usually we're eating on the run- rabbits, squirrels, boar if we're lucky."

"Snakes too." Soap tells you over a mouthful of bread, wasting no time in devouring some of the food. You think you might hear his stomach growl. "Ghost won' eat em. Can't blame him, they're a little gamey."

"I hate snakes." Ghost offers lowly with a mild sneer, though he too draws closer to the table, plucking a few dried apples and pocketing them for later.

"This was very sweet of you, Red." Price offers from where he sits, face relaxed from his previous scowl. His words are soft, reassuring, and seem to seep away the remnants of taut unrest from the room. You feel your shoulders relax, smiling in return at his friendly, beholden gaze.

"Did you walk here by yourself?" Laswell asks, and you turn to her to see her concerned gaze flicker across her gray eyes.

The unspokenness of the threat that continues to linger in the woods weighs heavy on her words. You needn't be reminded. The entire journey over here, despite the brightness of daylight dappling through the canopy above, was fraught with memories of a massive black shadow in the woods. Even now you can't shake the memory of glowing eyes at the periphery of a haloed lantern, gleaming in the darkness, watching.

"It's still bright out." You explain, shaking off the thought. "I'll be back before dark too. I promise."

Kate looks a little unconvinced, and though she opens her mouth to speak, she's interrupted by a grunt of disapproval from Soap as Gaz tries to wrestle a roll out of his hands. The two bicker for a moment before Laswell sighs, levies them with a stern look and gentle reminder of "Boys." that has both witchers instantly obey and duck their heads in apology.

"Let them eat, Kate." Price sighs, rubbing a hand over his face wearily. "They'll need their strength."

That seems to pass through the group like an electric current, summoning the bright flash of eyes and coiled muscles in response to Price's words. You blink at the return of this tense atmosphere, slide your eyes to Laswell's pinched expression. She catches your gaze, holds your stare for a long moment.

"The full moon is the night after tomorrow." Kate confesses quietly, and her hands reach between you to settle upon yours in your lap. You look from them to her face, your expression open with concern.

"But-" You manage, realization drawing across your thoughts. "You haven't found the wolf."

Somehow, it's Ghost's eyes you land upon in the room of averted gazes. The masked witcher refuses to look away for a few moments, and you think that if you peer past the mask you can see the tightness of his brow in frustration.

"There's been no sign of it." Gaz confesses quietly. "Not since that night."

That night, weeks ago now, the one where you had met them for the very first time. The one where you had allowed yourself a single look over your shoulder to see the mammoth, ragged shadow that seemed to blot out the light of the moon. It had gazed after you, your red cape fluttering behind you as Price rode off into the darkness, feeling the glowing stare of it chasing behind your thoughts.

"You injured it." You breathe, remembering Price at your door soon after. "Maybe...maybe you killed it?"

Price shakes his head, lips a thin line. "We would have found the body by now."

"T-then maybe you chased it off." You try, voice a little firmer now. "Maybe it got injured and retreated up to the mountains."

It's Soap who offers you a quiet, concerned gaze, having placed down his food. "Even if that were true, lass, it will come back. The thing needs blood, it needs to eat."

You feel an icy wave of dread wash over you, one that's not warmed by the crackling hearth at your back. Gaz nudges his friend a touch harshly, scowling.

"Don't scare her." Gaz warns quietly, and Soap levies a glancing frown at him.

"Not tryin’ tae scare her." He retorts, rubbing the spot on his arm. "She needs to know."

You swallow. Your throat feels dry.

"Know...what?" You venture quietly, and Soap turns to you once more, eyes softening as he takes in your frightened gaze. Yet it's Price who responds to your query.

"Your village." Price offers solemnly, and all eyes in the room draw to his hunched posture, his darkened gaze. "Many may die."

Devastating silence.

You stare at Price, your horror written clear across your face. The cabin suddenly feels too small, too thin, the perimeter of the woods pressing closer in on you. Suffocating. When you breathe, it isn't the familiar smell of dried herbs and bubbling stew. No, you swallow and taste the phantom scent of blood.

"W-what do you mean?" You manage, voice very small, wavering with fright.

Price stares at you grimly, and there's a faint concern to his stare that is shielded by the grave nature of his words.

"A wolf of this size may not stop at slaughtering livestock." He explains, voice low in prophetic warning. "We've seen what a monster like this can do. Even if you board your windows, lock your doors, paint the hinges with wolfsbane, it may not be enough to stop it."

A vision washes over you as you stare at the captain, eyes bright with fear. Your thoughts play the image of a massive, snarling beast destroying the walls and doors of houses, of snatching your neighbors from their homes and crushing them between its jaws as red seeps into the earth below a heavy, full moon. Screams slice through the air, and even with arrows lodged in the creature's back it only snarls, cuts through flesh with gigantic, glinting claws.

None will be safe.

"Red." Laswell presses forward, tone urgent. "Please. Come stay here. I know you don't want to leave your home, but it isn't safe. We can protect you. I don't-"

Laswell swallows, oddly emotional. Her gray eyes alight with a sudden insistency that plucks at your ribs. "I can't lose another friend." She whispers, feather light like graveyard mist. "Please."

Your face falls, mouth snapping shut as you regard your friend.

Gently, the soft smell of ferns, of earth and musk washes across your senses, draws you back through the winding forest paths and up the steps of your cottage. There, it's a familiar voice, gentle and pleased that greets you, that skims across your skin and leaves glowing captivation in its wake. His soft words wind around your thoughts, draw you closer to him, into the sensation of your arms wrapped around him while he whispers a question to the starlit sky, and to you.

“Would you ever leave?”

“…Yes.”

You can't leave him.

It's not that König needs you, you realize, but that you need him.

The realization thunders inside your chest hard enough to make you jolt, blink until your eyes focus once more on the woman in front of you. Kate's face is ashen with concern, and you swallow under the intensity of her stare, hands trembling.

Maybe, you think, maybe you can find a way to protect him, to keep you both safe, to bring him to your new friends without the promise of his destruction. If you can do that, if you can keep him until dawn rises on the third day-

"Just one more day." You whisper, even as the waxing moon inches closer towards fullness with every heartbeat.

"Just one more day."

-------

Your words linger in the back of your mind as you meander in the direction of the village. It's not dark, not yet, but the sunlight is fading beyond the trees, hiding behind the hills. The dimness nestled in the shadow of the valley slowly falls as a curtain over the forest and the creatures within it.

Price had once more offered you an escort back to the village, but you'd gently refused him. You need the time alone to think, and between the crowdedness of Kate's cottage and your sheltered guest back at your own, the woods offered a welcome respite from the tumult of your thoughts.

The threat of the wolf, of the monster you saw that night murmurs inside your chest with a heavy, consuming dread. Your dreams continue to be plagued by the beast, offering visions of your red cape snagged in brambles as you race through the darkened, misty woods. The wolf chases you, the earth thundering under your feet as you flee. When you stumble, fall, the creature halts to raise his fanged muzzle to the heavy yellow moon, howling a cursed abraxas before his glinting eyes fall upon you once more.

It's been several weeks now since that night, but the fear the monster presents has yet to fade. Now, in the imminent promise of the carnage to come, you huddle into yourself, look to the trees and wonder if these woods will be the same as they once were once all is over.

You're terrified, of course. For yourself, yes, but for your friends, fit to fight as they are. Soap's story of his young, brawny squad mates falling one by one to a werewolf's claws ripples across the vision of all of them, and you try not to imagine them befalling the same fate. The image of your tiny, unassuming village devastated by the wrath of a singular behemoth feels less like a nightmare and more like an imminent prophecy.

As you look down the streets just as you meet the edge of town, you try not to imagine them streaked with blood and ash, houses torn asunder and the mangled corpses of your neighbors strewn across the lanes. You feel powerless to stop it, knowing the fate that awaits you all, but unable to protect anyone. Not even yourself.

Not even him.

Your house glows with warm, welcoming lantern light in the distance, smoke curling from the chimney with the gentle whisper of birch across your senses. You know the sound of the voice that will greet you, know the soft skim of his fingers and the unblinking interest in his eyes he never speaks. You know you'll both talk long into the evening as you always do, laugh over steaming mugs of cider until your eyes droop heavy and he offers a ginger murmur of "Sleep, Rotty."

You want these evenings to go on forever, you think. Your home is no longer the hollow, empty thing it once was. It feels warm, full, embraced in a tender touch that soothes the lonely fringes of your soul. The presence of him feels so much like the pine scented cradle of the woods around you, something that holds you safe, ensconced in protection. It whispers words to you that you can't understand, but you know in your heart all the same.

Home.

A home about to be ravaged, destroyed, and perhaps him with it.

He asked you once before in a desperate plea not to tell the witchers of his presence, too afraid they might see a leper like him as something not human- a threat. You've worked hard to earn his trust, relish in the gift of it bestowed in chuckled laughter and fleeting touches. To betray it, to tell Laswell that as much she wants to protect you, you need to protect someone too, to reveal him to the people who may very well want to hurt him-

You pause just beyond the stone fence of your yard, look up at the small slope leading to your front door, and once more feel your chest ache with terrible indecision.

You can protect him, you think in a silent, daring hope. You can protect him just a little longer from them.

As your hand lands on the wooden gate to your garden there's a voice that calls out behind you, and you freeze.

You can't make out the words, slurred and unintelligible as they are, but it's the tone that makes you pause, your startled expression peeking from under your red hood.

A man stumbles his way towards you. You recognize him. He's one of the hunters' sons, a lanky, young fellow with large, boyish ears and scruffy dark hair. He's smiled at you before, but the intentions behind his eyes had seemed anything but gentle. The night you, Soap, and Gaz rode through the town square you think you might have seen him, silent as the accusation of your impurity rang hollow against your curled form.

He's holding something in his hand, and you shy away from him as he approaches, untrusting of the staggered sway of his feet and sinister sprawl of his lips. Your stomach roils with acute awareness, skin suddenly cold beyond the chill of sunset.

"Guten Abend." He greets casually, slurring his words. He leans on the corner post of your fence as you try and subtly shift towards your front door, senses awash with danger. "You looked so lonely walking home, fraulein. May I keep you company?"

"No." You respond quickly, voice flat. You scowl at him, trying to clearly display your steadfast disinterest, but the waver of your voice fails to conceal your fright. He seizes on it, straightens and takes a step towards you. It only makes you take a noticeable step back. "Please leave."

The hunter’s son frowns at that, pauses to raise the bottle in his hand to his lips. The wine inside runs a red rivulet down his chin. Yet the ire in his expression is gone in a moment, replaced once more by his ill-intentioned grin.

"It's almost the full moon." He croons, straightening and running one hand over the fence posts as he saunters towards you. You slip inside the gate as he does, chastising yourself for never fixing the latch. Your frowning disposition has taken on a skittish anxiety now as he tries to close the distance, instincts blaring with alarm as he continues. “It's dangerous to be here alone, by yourself."

I'm not. You almost say, jaw snapping shut before you can reveal the presence of König inside.

"I can protect you." He goes on, resting a heavy hand on your gate you'd closed behind you, and your skin prickles at the brazen encroachment on your territory, hands shaking at your sides. "I can keep you safe from the wolf."

"I don't need your help." You bite back, hackles rising now at the threat this man poses to you. Though you tremble where you stand you still plant your feet, raise your voice in an effort to ward him away from you and your home. "You need to leave."

The ire returns in the form of a sneer, and before you can stop him the man swings the gate wide and makes towards you with a growl. You skid on your feet for a moment before racing up the hill to your door, making it inside moments before his fist pounds on the wood. When he tries for the handle you’re quick to latch it, preventing him from entering. It does nothing to calm his temper, and he shoves at the door with your back pressed to it.

"You think you're better than us!" He yells abruptly from beyond the threshold, and you tremble as you desperately press yourself to the door, feeling it shake under his blows. "You're nothing more than a common whore! You and that witch have seduced those men, we can tell!"

Witch.

The accusation pulses through you like an axe to wood, bludgeoning your fragile nerves and making your hands rise to your mouth to contain a shuddering cry of despair. It’s a curse, a jinx meant only for ruin. Once you’ve been accused to the village of such a thing, no amount of protest could ever prove your innocence. Laswell, even with her gray-eyed wisdom, wouldn’t be able to escape.

Neither would you.

He’s cursed you both.

"I bet you're a witch too! Just like her!” He bellows, kicking the base of the door so hard you squeak a shrill, high sound choked in your throat. “You probably brought the wolf here yourselves to kill us all!!"

You can barely hold yourself upright, terrified beyond measure as the door trembles. The earth rolls underneath your feet, shuddering along with your form. Fear, dread, realization bubbles as a deadly potion inside your veins, making your whole body tremble and sway unsteadily. The drum of your heartbeat is fit to burst, the thrum in your ears thunderous, nearly blocking out the man’s voice.

“Do you hear me?! You’ll be the death of us all!!”

A shadow looms over you, falling across your figure and blotting out the warm haze of lantern light. You whimper on instinct, mind discerning just another threat as the body above you leans to brace his wide palms on the door. He leans to keep it from shaking at your back, green eyes watching you shake and shiver, hands pressed to your mouth to silence your cries.

"Don't listen." König tells you, loud enough for only you to hear. His voice is gentle, a startling juxtaposition to the man on the other side of your door. You cling to it desperately, trying to find an anchor amidst the fear and confusion of this sudden assault even as the man yells and pounds at the door. König remains silent, still, pressing his weight against it to try and keep it from trembling. His eyes look down at you even as tears threaten your own, feeling so much like a little girl lost in the woods with no way to escape.

At last, your accuser grows tired, hurls a few remaining curses at you before you hear him stumble down your garden and back towards the main road. You listen to him leave, take several long minutes to be entirely sure of his absence before finally unleashing a trembling, shaking breath of relief.

König waits a long moment before he removes his palms braced above you, no longer crowding you with his massive frame. Yet he doesn’t move away from you just yet, lingers before you even as you breathe into your palms, watery gaze cast to the floor. It’s only once his hand catches your chin, tilts you up to his masked gaze that he speaks.

“Rotty.” He whispers, that beloved nickname he’s bestowed upon you, now spoken with such tender hushed concern. “Are you alright?”

Your lip trembles as you look up at him, face warm with mortification, fear, and anger all rolled into one. Your eyes threaten tears, and through them you can see the soft, worried light of his gaze onto you. He holds you as if you’re something fragile, threatening to break apart should he dare touch you. Yet the warmth of him is undeniable, a flickering hearth that draws you closer. You desperately want to bask like springtime flowers under the dappled sunlight of his stare.

Like home. Your mind offers again, unbidden, and the thought is enough to finally make the tears overspill. A sob cracks your throat, the desperation of loneliness bubbling up in a cry before you can stop it, sending you hurtling into his chest.

You fall into him, arms stretching to wrap as far around the trunk of his form as they’ll go. König jolts at the unexpected touch, coiling in surprise. His hands flutter uncertainly over you, as if he’s not entirely sure where to put them. You think perhaps he’ll pull away, will gently pry himself from you with a hushed apology. He’s constantly like that, allowing himself to dance closer to your flickering flame, only to pull away once more into the shadows. So, your arms fasten around him, fists gripping at the fabric of his shirt in a silent bid to keep him there just a little longer.

Slowly, he eases, allows himself to unwind with a barely audible exhale. His hands descend to your shoulders, soothe downwards to your back, pressing you closer into him as you shudder. You drink in the scent of him, moss and rosemary that floats down from the rafters, of damp soil that coats your fingertips in a beloved embrace. There’s a part of you in this moment that thinks perhaps you’ve known him all your life, have been wandering these woods in search of him without knowing it ever since you were a child- lost and lonely…

…and now found.

“It’s alright, Schatz.” He murmurs in a hushed reassurance, buoying you against him as you desperately try to contain your sobs. His hands grip at you as if he’s trying to memorize the press of your figure against his, as if it will be the last time he will ever hold you. It summons a fresh bout of tears to your eyes, throat thick with a gasping sob as you nestle further into his chest.

“They can’t hurt you.” He goes on, and his voice takes on a dangerous intonation, the semblance of growl reverberating against your wet cheek. You feel his nails dig into your shoulder for the briefest of moments, as if suddenly sharpened by his anger, only to relax less than a heartbeat later. The meaning of his words is left unsaid but echoes in the scarce space between you all the same.

“I won’t let them.”

He allows you several long minutes of your shoulders trembling under his palms before he gently slides his arms around you, bending to cradle an arm beneath your legs. He lifts you to him, and you go without protest, looping your arms around his shoulders and tucking your chin under his jaw. He’s gentle as he moves, careful of where he steps and oddly different from his typical clumsy nature. After a few moments he slowly descends, releasing you so you gingerly slide into your bed.

Yet when he tries to carefully remove your arms around his shoulders you make a whimpering sound of protest, webbing your fingers together in an unbreakable hold.

“Please.” You whisper, throat hoarse from crying, afraid he’ll refuse you. “Stay.”

König pauses, until he releases his inhibitions with a soft exhale. “Of course, Rotty.” He murmurs, and moves to arrange himself beside you in bed, hauling you back into his embrace and curling around you protectively.

The last of your sobs abate, but the fear and worry there remains behind. You cling to König as if that will keep him by your side, protecting you from the curse about to befall your beloved valley in the shadow of the monster. You wind yourself around him like ivy, desperately trying to never part from him, keep him nestled in the hollow of your heart as long as you’re allowed. His deep, even breaths whisper across your skin, feeling like the barest whisper of a breeze through aspen trees.

“I’ll keep you safe.” He vows in a sacred whisper to you, an oath you shut your eyes against, wanting it desperately to be true. His arms close around with a sudden ferocity so fervent it steals the air from your chest. “I’ll protect you, Rotty. I won’t let them touch you.”

You stay silent, allowing the meaning of his words to wash over you. The secrets between you remain unspoken, and as desperately as you want to understand them you settle for this instead- the heat of him, the curl of his body around yours, the press of his hand in your hair, the arm settled heavy across your form that shelters you from the world. You try to memorize it, try to imbue it into the repository of your memories so that if you survive the imminent cataclysm you’ll continue to remember him.

One more day, you remind yourself with a silenced whisper. One more day here, with him. With us.

You send a prayer up to the heavens that after all of this is over you’ll both walk into the woods hand in hand, having found each other after a lifetime of wandering the fern lined paths.

The moon grows heavy in your thoughts.

Taglist: (If you'd like to be tagged in future updates please REBLOG this post)

@writeforfandoms @zwiiicnziiix @soapskneebrace @tealikestoread @mikrou @atenceladusiaawfytbwb @kiroshang @adorephina @equalstrashflavoredtrash @dog55teeth @seraphimcollections @pettyprocrastination @borderlinecatboybehavior @warenai @moskaisley @nachtcirce @feelingnotmyself @lovenotcomputed @rk1v35 @kikisstrawberrie @emrzennn @montenegroisr @frazie99 @graybraids @ohgraywardens @tangerines-mustache @poohkie90 @arbesa-mind @glitterypirateduck @ihatethinkingofnames10

If you are on this taglist and would like not to be, please DM me ❤️

#konig x reader #konig x you #könig x reader #könig x you #könig x f! reader #my writing #my fic #fic: rotes madchen

509 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months

Text

thinking about noble bell college’s uniforms

In the story event Glorious Masquerade, the NRC guests fight fire lotuses/crimson flowers, which are depicted in battle like so:

As you can see, the flowers are in red robes. This design appears to be an intentional callback to the red robes of the worshippers that chant in the song Hellfire:

Idia comments that the fire lotuses/crimson flowers “wormed their way into some of the [NBC] students’ robes”. He then theorizes that there must be lingering magic in the robes which attracts the flowers, whether that magic is from the mages that once wore them or imbued in the cloth of the robes themselves. The latter is true of NRC’s ceremonial robes (and their dorm uniforms, as we learn in book 6).

Just looking by at the ceremonial robes vs the red robes, they’re similarly shaped—though of course NRC’s are much more elaborate, given that their school is larger, more prestigious, and likely received more funding. NBC’s robes are a plain solid color and appear to be longer in length (though maybe it just seems that way because the flowers are low to the ground??? It’s hard to gauge scale).

Since Idia brings up a potential comparison between NRC’s ceremonial robes and NBC’s red robes, I wonder if those red robes are NBC’s equivalent of ceremonial robes?? Like, is that what NBC students wear for important events or when they’re representing their school…? Because if that’s the case, I swear I didn’t seen any NBC mobs or the student council wearing it to receive their guests.

The only prominent red I see on their outfits looks too short to be the same red robes the flowers crawled into… It looks more like a shawl or caplet with a hood, and it’s not quite the right color (more maroon than red)… Maybe it’s the lighting?? It could be the same as the red robes, it could not be 😣 I’m not sure!

Something else I noticed is everyone seems to wear the same uniform except for Rollo, which makes sense given his position as student council president. Their school only has one prominent historical figure they look to, so that’s probably reflected in a lack of dorms. Azul likens Rollo’s position to the status of dorm leader, so it feels like a variation of a dorm leader uniform while the NBC mobs wear a more generic “dorm uniform”.

If these standard clothes and the red robes are two separate outfits, then I’d wager both are like NRC’s dorm uniforms and ceremonial robes respectively (ie NBC’s uniforms and robes are also infused with magic). So… uh… if that’s true, I wonder if Rollo’s skin crawls whenever he has to wear his school uniforms… 💀

#twst #twisted wonderland #Rollo Flamme #Azul Ashengrotto #Idia Shroud #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #spoilers #notes from the writing raven #Hunchback of Notre Dame #twst theory #twst theories #twisted wonderland theories #twisted wonderland theory

220 notes · View notes

azeriaxtales · 12 days

Text

Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, Make Me Remember-♡

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

Neuvillette x Fem!Reader

Chap/Part 1

Synopsis ♡ Waking Up in an Alleyway behind a Fontaine Building you find yourself with a blurry head and no remembrance of who you are, or what your name is, it is up to you to find out who you are once again, but a man you bumped into filled you with a alluring, familiar presence.

Content Warning ♡ Memory Loss, Angst (Partial, No Comfort.), Immortality, Rebirth, Potential Smut, Fluff.

> Prev '' Next <

"Wake Up."

A sharp pain jolts through your body, each nerve feels like it's been stabbed and probed at, as your back felt inflamed and extremely cold as your eyes are blinded by the small light peeking in the alleyway onto your body. For a quick second you saw a calming light. But then your surroundings are starting to become clear around you. There was a tall building with nice white walls with tall blue, glass embedded windows that created reflections on the sun-rays. It was all you could really make out at the moment as your body felt heavy and lifeless almost impossible to move a single limb, your muscles completely locked in place. The only movement prominent on your body was your chest. Slowly rising and falling as you took deep breaths. After a little bit of struggling and pain you manage to move your head to see a giant wall next to you, accompanied by a rather neat garbage bin with trash bags inside. You attempt to move the rest of your body and eventually your body starts to regain its movement.

Crawling over to the big wall, you put your hand on it, lifting yourself up. Your knees were a bit wobbly as you took a few steps, almost like a baby learning its first steps. You let out a little grunt as you managed to fully lift yourself up, walking out of the alleyway.

As soon as you walked out you were immediately blinded by the beaming sun which instinctively caused you to hood your heavy eyes. You could see a bunch of stores lined up with different things in sale, with citizens dressed in fancy dresses and shawls either traversing the paths or observing some stores. You were only wearing a dirty T-shirt, and some black sweatpants causing you to get some looks. You unhooded your eyes letting your eyes burn and get used to the light sun, which they quickly did as you managed to look more out into where you were. In the distance you saw this weird rotating circle, almost like a statue mechanism. It looked something like a plaza with a weird building you couldn't even describe close to it. You suddenly tried to use your brain but to your surprise.

It's almost like your brain was just off.

No matter how hard you tried your brain couldn't mutter up a single memory, leaving you confused and tired... "Who am I..? What am I..? WHERE am I?" The only words that rung in your head. You couldn't even remember what your name was. You slowly walk up to one of the glass displays of the stores and look at your reflection. You had e/c eyes, and beautiful h/c hair. though no recollection of why you looked like this, who were your parents? Stepping back from the glass you attempt to put your mind at ease as you decide to walk up to one of the citizens. It was two girls. One wearing a nice pink dress with a stylish pink summer hat, the other wearing a pink tutu looking dress with a pink shawl wrapped around her neck.

"Hello.." You mutter out trying to grasp the two girls attention. They both raise their heads up, looking directly at you and your clothes. "You poor thing. You look quite dirty, do you need some mora?" The girl with the pink shawl asks. Her tone was very concerned and caring as she noticed all the stains and the eye bags present. "Some mora..? Mora..? What's mo- oh.. Sure I could use some. But I also wondered.. Where am I?" Both girls looked at you with bewilderment as you asked where you were. One of the girls takes 100 mora out and gives it to you. "Hun.. You're in Fontaine..." The lady responds. The name rings in your ears. Almost like a familiar name..? "Fontaine.. Okay.. thanks for the mora.." Both of the girls nod their head, concern still etched on their faces as you walk down the street.

A sign that says "Bakery." On it with other lettering had a nice smell of freshly baked goods. You decide to walk in and see some nice seats with a bunch of people sitting around eating some Croissants, and some Croissant au chocolat, With some beverages, mostly which seemed to be tea. You walk up to the register where an old looking lady was running it. She started fondly at you. "Well hello there dear, what may I get you?" The old lady had a certain charm that brought you a strange comfort. "Is there anything here that costs just 100 mora?" You had quite the embarrassed look. Everyone seemed so rich as you walked in with just 100 mora to your name given to you by two strangers. The old lady simply looked at you for a good second before going in the back.

You put your head down in shame and defeat as you decided to just walk out the door. Before your hand can touch the handle to leave the old lady called out to you. "Miss.. Don't you want to eat and drink?" You turn around to see the old lady holding a plate of Macaroons, Croissant au chocolat, and some freshly brewed tea on the side. The smell was just as good too. You go up and hold out your 100 mora to the lady. She suddenly grabs your fist and gently closes it. She was trying to give it to you for free.

"Your fragile bones, The eye Bags, Your clothes, your struggling dear I see this, now please.. eat." The old lady pleads. And you don't have any objections as you gently take the tray with the Croissant au chocolat, and Macaroons. The old lady points to a seat, as she places down your tea. You sit down placing down your tray. It doesn't take you long before you start digging in.

Not even 10 minutes later you completely wiped the food up, No crumb in site. A small chuckle was heard from the old lady as she was observing you eat the whole time behind the counter. She scurries over and picks your empty tray and tea cup and quickly makes her way to the back. Not even a moment later she comes back out. "Dear, do you have a place to stay..?" You zone out thinking for a moment. Even if you did have a place to stay you couldn't remember. The only memory was you waking up in the alleyway. "No." You answer to the old lady which makes her quite amused. "I was expecting... Feel free to nap at this table for now." You perk up, you were quite surprised she was just letting you sleep in her establishment but you weren't quite complaining as you put your head down and shut your eyes.

It almost felt like your body was floating. Around your body you felt this almost comforting, familiar feeling of a warm hug. Like claws were wrapped around you, protecting you.. You suddenly look up to see you were in this pitch black space. Behind you in the distance was a blue glow. It was your first dream again. Maybe it could show you a memory.

Carefully you sneak over to the blue light. Under was a small note. It was a map with this writing on top that said "Fontaine." It was a map of Fontaine. No names were present on the map. Just illustrations. One place caught your eye as it had a blue circle around it. With the text next to it "FIND HIM." The building was actually labeled "The Palais Mermonia." On the back side of the map some writing was there. It was smudged but readable.

"Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, Make Me Remember."

"Wake up dear." Your heavy eyes feel only a little lighter as they shift open to see the moon glaring through the bakery windows.. you quickly jolt up. Already forgetting what you dreamed about. "How long have I been out..?" The old lady let's out a slight chuckle. "Quite a while. Now about you needing somewhere to stay." You immediately dismiss her. "I think I'll be fine. It's no trouble." The old lady closed your eyes. "Do not be stubborn. I see in your eyes, you are looking for something.. I wanna help." Your eyes widen. Does she know?

The old lady suddenly gets up and walks out the door which you quickly follow behind her. "Um..? Am I supposed to follow you. If so, where are we going?" The old lady nods. "We are heading to my home so you can get some proper rest young lady." This is happening too fast.. a random lady now leading you to her home? You felt this strange comfort around her. But still no signs of your memory.. you dreamed about something but it became a blur. "Do you know..?" The old lady stops in her tracks, she seems to be listening to your words. "Do you know why I can't remember anything?" Your eyes were almost pleading for answers. It took a few seconds before the old lady responded. "I was unaware you lost your memory till right about now. But there must be someone here who can help you unlock the memories of your past once again." The old lady hummed happily as she continued to walk to her residence. You stayed behind her, walking but let what she said ring in your head. You don't remember what happened but maybe you can find someone who does.

The sudden noise of something unlocking made you finally snap out of your pondering. The lady was unlocking the door. She waved you to walk in which you obliged.

Her house was very vintage looking. With some rustic couches and coffee tables with a fairly nice kitchen, although way more old looks then how the outside of the house looked. "Apologies if it's not the best of houses. I'm not used to visitors." You nod warmly, dismissing any concerns she had. You noticed the rug and even the doors somehow looked old. With the rug having nice patterns as the doors were a nice oak color.

"Why did you bring me here.. so fast? You must know something." You started to demand a little. You wanted answers why this was happening. Instead the old lady handed you a cup of tea. "Dear I do not know anything about your memory but when you walked in I sensed something special within you." The old lady suddenly puts her hand over your heart which causes you to flinch a little bit. You look down at her hand, the strange comfort spreads through your body again. "Your flinching at a simple gesture. You're really lost all of your memory dear.?" The old lady seemed pretty concerned as you nod. She rubs your back as you take sips of your tea.

"Dear do you at least remember your name?"

"..no.."

"Then I think it's time you get a new one.."

(⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠´⁠꒳⁠`⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠)

Please No Stealing! <3 I'm only on Tumblr - Azeria

#fontaine #neuvillete x reader #genshin impact #neuvilette genshin #neuvillette #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette smut #neuvillette angst #neuvillette fluff #fem reader #x reader #genshin x reader #writers on tumblr #angst #fluff #strangers to lovers

57 notes · View notes