#snark maiden

[pricklymuffinzzzzz]

Snark Maiden Stimboard💐

[spacedace]

okay reading "Death and the Maidens" because I want to get a sense of Nyssa's character for fic reasons and I'm barely into the first one and just...

What do you mean Bruce sleeps in a replica of his parent's bed??? And that he only uses the sheets they owned before he was born??? Sir??

Like I know just about every single aspect of who Bruce is could have the statement "Please for the love of god get Therapy" applied to it but this feels like it's up there on the list.

Not at the top, but at least like, upper part of the middle of the list. An item or two down from "Micro-doses on Scarecrow Fear Toxin to try and prepare for the worst possible things that could happen instead of getting restful sleep"

[liroyalty]

Honestly? Deserved.

[sanguineterrain]

We Got A Lovin' Thing - s.h. | e.m.

Summary: Eddie, as it turns out, is the only one with a brain cell among the three of you. (Or: the time you didn't know you were all dating).

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader x Eddie Munson

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: fluff, idiocy, jealousy, misunderstandings, me attempting to write the "didn't know they were dating" trope.

dividers by s-tarksintern

"You don't have to."

The tickets had barely entered your hand before Eddie was making excuses. He shoved a handful of curls behind his ear. You tutted, swatting his hand because that was exactly what made them frizz. He hesitantly released the curls, twisting his rings around his fingers instead. 

"Of course we'll go," Steve said. "We wanna support you. Right, Y/N?" 

You nodded eagerly. "That's right. Dustin's told us all about your sick guitar riffs. Obviously, I need to hear them for myself."

"I mean, you know if Dustin's hyped, it's gonna be bitchin'."

You grinned at Steve. He mirrored you. All of the tension slipped out of Eddie. He lost an inch in height from posturing for rejection. Which didn't make sense. Steve would certainly never reject Eddie like that. Maybe Eddie just really wanted you to go. 

"I know it's not really your guys' thing," Eddie said. "Which is why I didn't wanna pressure you. And I know we're taking it slow, so…"

"I don't think you need to take introducing us to your metalheads that slow, Munson," Steve snorted. "We can handle it."

"Steve should wear your vest," you suggested, wiggling your brows. 

"Me? No, no, you'd wear it way better than me," insisted Steve. 

"How 'bout," Eddie said, shrugging off said vest. "The prince takes the vest and the fair maiden gets my bandana. As a token of gratitude."

Your heart fluttered as Eddie gently wrapped the fabric around your forehead. You helped him tie it in the back, his fingers brushing yours. The bandana was soft and smelled like his cologne, patterned with multicolored skulls. 

"Sure we're metal enough for you and your crew?" you asked, trying to push down the butterflies in your belly. 

Eddie grinned. "Without a doubt. Better than Ozzy."

"I think Steve should throw it back to eighty-six and show off the sternum bush," you said, playfully poking his chest. "That bare chest was the highlight of my year, Harrington."

"Yeah, yeah," Steve snarked. "Take a picture."

"Oh no, I wouldn't wanna make anybody jealous," you laughed. 

"Jealous? Never!" Steve cast dramatically. "Eddie knows my adoring fans mean nothing to me!" 

"Imagine my relief," Eddie said, draping an arm over you, then Steve. "Can't have anybody looking at my guy. Or my girl."

You squirmed under his arm, sliding out of his grip as smoothly as possible. 

"Um, yeah. Well, I don't think you'll have to worry. You steal the show every time, Eds."

"Sweetheart, you've gotta wait till I actually start playing before you gas me up," Eddie grinned. 

You shoved his arm, attempting vainly to mask your nerves. 

"No gas! It’ll be great."

You left Eddie’s room, heading out the front door. Steve followed you down the steps.

“Show starts at eight!” Eddie called after you. 

“We’ll be there, superstar,” you said, giving a thumbs up. “Dress pretty—Steve’s not easily impressed.”

“Hilarious,” Steve snarked. “Maybe you can follow his act with some of those jokes.”

You stuck out your tongue and got into the passenger side of his 733i. 

“Isn’t Eddie giving you a ride?” he asked, getting into the driver’s seat.

“Why would Eddie give me a ride? Doesn’t he have a rehearsal?”

Steve shrugged. “How would I know? He’d tell you before me.”

“What? No way. You’d be the first to know. You’re the one who brought up Corroded Coffin.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’ve never been to a show,” Steve said, pulling out of the trailer park.

“You haven’t?”

“No. When would I have gone?”

“I mean… anytime, really,” you frowned. “I thought Eddie would’ve invited you by now.”

Steve gave you an incredulous look. “Me?”

“Yes?” you scoffed. “Why are you acting so weird?”

“Why are you?” Steve shot back. 

“I’m not…” you trailed off. 

He remained quiet, so you dropped the subject. You rested your head against the seat and watched Steve from the corner of your eye. Eddie was lucky. Nancy had been too. You’d always thought so.

The metal infinity ring was on Steve’s right middle finger. You were there when Eddie gave it to him. Eddie had given you a ring too, days before that. For a moment, you’d hoped and wondered. Wondered if maybe Eddie felt the same as you did. 

You wore yours on a thin chain around your neck. That was how pathetic you were—if it was a ring from Eddie Munson, you’d wear it close to your heart, even when it was painfully obvious yours meant something different from Steve’s. 

“Wanna stop by BK before I drop you?” Steve asked.

“Sure,” you smiled softly. “Thanks, Steve.”

He nodded, mirroring your smile. His veins were stark lines against his skin. You stared unabashedly at how his hands curled around the steering wheel. How could anybody blame Eddie? You’d give Steve pretty rings too. 

Steve ordered your regular at the Burger King drive-though. You reclined in the seat.

“Should’ve brought Eddie something,” you said, eyes closed.

“He likes BK?”

“His stomach is a bottomless pit. He’ll literally eat anything.”

“Anything, huh?”

“Gross, Steve!” you scoffed, thwacking his arm. “Don’t be a perv.”

He cackled as he pulled up to the next drive-through window. The girl at the window took the money, then leaned in while waiting for the food. 

“Hi,” she said, fluttering her lashes.

“Hey,” Steve nodded. “How are you?”

“Good. Want extra sauce?”

“I do!” you interrupted, sticking your head next to Steve’s.

She shot you a dirty look. You wiggled your fingers in a wave.

“Can I get extra sauce? Or does he only get extra sauce?”

Her face twisted into a mix of jealousy and disgust. She shoved the bag through the window, then slammed the screen closed. You burst into giggles as Steve drove off.

“Was that really necessary?” he sighed, passing you the food.

“What? Not like you’re interested. She’s not your type.”

“I—my type?”

“Yeah?” 

You shoveled a few fries in your mouth. 

“And what exactly is my type, Y/N?”

“Not her,” you sniffed. Not me, either.

“That’s specific.”

“I know. My mysterious feminine wiles are irresistible.”

“Ah, yes. What drew Eddie to you in the first place,” Steve agreed.

He didn’t mean anything by it. That didn’t stop the ache. 

“Yeah,” you mumbled, shoving more fries into your mouth. “Right.”

"So I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked, slowing down in front of your house.

"See you then," you confirmed, closing the door.

"Wear somethin' nice for Eddie," Steve teased.

"You first!"

You watched him drive off, dejectedly chomping down on a chicken strip. Oh God. What were you doing?

The club was loud. You’d tried to dress a little closer to the demographic but you weren’t sure you’d accomplished such a thing. Still, it was better than Steve, who looked like he’d just gotten a callback for Grease.

“Dude, what the hell are you wearing?”

“This is cool!” he insisted. 

“Tell me about it, stud.”

“You wore overalls to a metal concert and you wanna make fun of me?” 

“I look cute,” you announced. “And there’s no denying you do too, Steve, but jeez. What happened to wearing Eddie’s vest?”

“It’s under the jacket,” he said, unzipping the black leather jacket. “Did you just call me cute?”

“Don’t let it go to your head, T-Bird.”

“How many Grease references are you gonna make?” he huffed.

“How long is the performance?”

“I’m telling Eddie on you,” Steve warned as you found your seats.

“Ooh, I’m really sca—”

A pair of hardcore fans knocked into you. You stumbled, nearly falling over a chair. But Steve was quick to catch you by your arm.

“Whoa, you okay? Assholes!” he fumed, holding your waist.

“It’s fine,” you sighed, hyper aware of Steve’s hands on you. “People are just excited. C’mon, let’s get close to the stage.”

The warmth from Steve’s hands slipped away. You felt dirty for missing it. 

The emcee made a brief introduction and got a few claps. You and Steve both cheered when he announced Corroded Coffin. 

“Go, Eds!” you whooped, clapping obnoxiously. “C’mon, Steve, show a little enthusiasm. That’s your guy up there.”

Steve sighed, rolling his eyes. Then he stuck his pinkies into his mouth, whistling loudly. You squealed in laughter, nudging his side. Steve grinned back, accepting your head on his shoulder.

“Whoa! Hidden talent, Harrington! That from your jock days?”

“Yes, actually. The pool gets loud and I had to get my team’s attention somehow.”

“Coach Steve, huh? No wonder you’re so bossy with the kids.”

“I’m bossy so none of those jerkwads get eaten by faceless monsters. There’s a difference.”

“Yes, dear,” you said seriously, patting his hand. “And you parent them so well.”

“You know what—”

“Shh!” you hushed. “Show’s starting!”

The lights dimmed. Eddie came out first, then the rest of the band. He stepped up to the mic.

“How’s everybody doing tonight?”

“Wooo!” you cheered in reply.

“Let’s go, Eddie!” added Steve.

Eddie found you immediately, grinning widely. 

“Glad you guys are excited,” he continued, eyes never leaving you and Steve. “I see some pretty faces in the crowd. Hope you enjoy.”

The set was energetic, bass vibrating through your body. You and Steve took your cues from the sparse audience, headbanging and air-guitaring through the whole show. He took off the jacket after the first song, leaving him in Eddie’s vest and a white tank. You tried not to stare.

The most important thing was that Eddie had fun. Regardless of your feelings, you and Steve were there to be supportive. Steve and Eddie had never changed how they treated you. There was no reason you couldn’t act the same.

Your chain jumped when you did, jangling against your chest. When you strayed too far from your seat towards the end of the set, Steve took your hand, steering you back so you wouldn’t get lost among the drunks. He didn’t let go until the music finished.

“Thank you! We are Corroded Coffin, good night!”

The band disappeared backstage. You and Steve were the first ones to the stage entrance, which was really just a ragged, faux velvet curtain. Gareth and Jeff chatted among themselves. A few girls had also come in—mostly to fawn over Eddie. 

“Hiiii, Eddie!” giggled one, a little tipsy. “You played a great show!”

“Thanks, ladies,” Eddie replied politely, easily slipping through the gaggle of girls. 

He made a beeline for you and Steve, guitar still strapped across his back. He pulled you both into a sweaty hug, still on a performance high. Eddie’s freshly shaven cheek slid against yours. Your heart did a swan dive to your shoes.

“You guys made it!” 

“Of course we did,” you said. “We wouldn’t miss your show for anything. Steve’s dedicated.”

“So I see,” Eddie grinned, giving Steve a onceover. “Looking good, Greased Lightning.”

“That’s it. I’m never wearing leather again,” Steve huffed, tucking his jacket under his arm.

“No no, it’s hot! Swear it. Tell ‘im, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes. “His head’s already big enough, Eds.”

“See how mean she is to me?” Steve whined. 

“Poor baby,” Eddie cooed, patting Steve’s neck. “What were we thinking, pledging our love to her?”

You turned your head, throat tightening. Neither one seemed to notice.

“You should make it up to me,” decided Steve. “I accept pizza.”

“Pizza it is,” Eddie said, taking off his guitar. “Lemme just pack up my stuff and we’ll head back to the shire. Just us, promise. Sound good?”

Eddie goaded Steve ahead, arm around his back. You hung behind them, that pang in your chest returning. 

“Hey,” Eddie said, turning. “Where’d you go? C’mere.”

“Huh?” 

“You’re all the way back there,” he laughed. “Here.”

They slowed for a beat so you caught up. Then Eddie tugged you to his other side, arm hanging over your shoulders. You couldn’t even fight him. Eddie was always tactile and once you became friends, all sense of personal space was thrown out the window. It felt good, even if it was temporary. 

You rode back in the van. It was rowdy but Eddie thankfully dropped off the rest of his band early in the drive. 

“So which pizzeria? Fredo’s or Mikey’s?”

“Fredo’s!” you said.

“Mikey’s!” Steve voted.

You gasped in horror. “Mikey’s? They give you approximately three drops of sauce. It’s like eating cardboard with cheese.”

“Mikey’s way better than Fredo’s. Mikey’s doesn’t have sixteen health violations, for one.”

“Everyone knows that was a story the paper cooked up because Fredo wouldn’t sell to Kline,” you scoffed. “Open your eyes, Steven.”

“Fine, we’ll have Eddie decide.”

You both turned expectantly to Eddie, who glanced at you in the rearview mirror. 

“Oh. Uh, well, I really don’t have a preference…”

“No, no. You’ve gotta choose, Eds,” you said. “Steve has apparently decided to go insane.”

“Me? You’re eating rat droppings, Y/N.”

“You are such a freakazoid, Steve, what the hell—”

“Guys! Okay, okay, how ‘bout this: Y/N chooses the pizza and Steve, you can choose what movie we watch. Deal?” 

You tilted your head at Steve. He crossed his arms.

“Fine. But I know you’re biased, Munson.”

“Am not! I’m totally impartial.”

“If he was biased, he’d side with you,” you said.

“Uh, no, he’d totally side with you,” Steve scoffed. “But, y’know, I guess if I were in his shoes I’d side with you too.”

Before you could ask what that meant, Steve was sliding open the door to the van and climbing out. After a minute, you did the same, taking Eddie’s proffered hand. 

“Hey. You know he’s not really mad, right?” he murmured, squeezing your hand.

“I know,” you smiled. “I wasn’t worried. Were you?”

“No, no. Just don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

You smiled confusedly. “Um, okay. Don’t worry. I wouldn’t, like, get in between you two or anything.” 

Eddie looked appalled by that. “I know you wouldn’t, baby. I love you both, you know that.”

“I—” You swallowed, overwhelmed. “Oh. I l-love you too, Eds.”

Eddie beamed and kissed your knuckles. You felt your face grow hot. 

“I’m going inside,” you rushed out, scurrying up the steps. 

You slammed the door shut behind you, letting out a slow breath. What was that?! Were you tripping or had Eddie been flirting with you?

“Hey—”

“Ahh!”

You jumped, startled. Steve froze, brows to his hairline. 

“Uh,” he began. “You good?”

“Yeah, s-sorry. I’m fine. What’s up?”

“I was gonna order the pizza, what toppings did you—”

“I’ll do it!” you said, snatching the phone and shooing him out of the kitchen. “Go pick a movie. I’ll order.”

“No mushrooms,” Steve reminded as you herded him out. “And Eddie is allergic to—”

“Olives, yeah, I know, Steve. This isn’t the first time we’ve had pizza together.”

“Dunno why you’re so snappy when we have to eat sewer pizza,” he mumbled. 

You ignored him, returning to the phone. Wayne had most of the takeout numbers posted near the phone, so it was easy to dial. 

“Hello, pickup or delivery?”

“Hi, delivery. Can I get two large pies. One with pepperoni and…”

“Get some mozzarella sticks too,” Eddie said, walking into the kitchen. “My treat.”

“It’s actually my treat,” came Steve’s voice from the living room.

You rolled your eyes. “And one order of mozzarella sticks. On the other pie can we get peppers and white sauce?” You gave the address. 

“Twenty minutes,” said the delivery person.

“Okay, thanks,” you replied. “Twenty minutes, guys!”

“‘Kay, I’m gonna shower, baby. Don’t let Steve put on a crappy movie.”

Then, gentle as he could be, Eddie lightly took your chin in hand and kissed the corner of your mouth. 

You freaked. 

“Hey!” you shouted, slamming the phone back on the receiver. “Hey, what the fuck was that?!”

Eddie’s eyes were wide. “What was what?”

“You kissed me! What the hell, Eddie? Steve is ten feet away from us!”

“I know…” he started weakly. “What does that have to do—”

“You know?” you screeched. “You know? What the fuck does that mean? Oh, fuck this. Steve, come ‘ere!”

“Jesus, what’s with all the yelling, Y/N? Did you get into Eddie’s stash?” Steve groaned, rising from the VCR. 

You pointed an accusatory finger at Eddie. 

“He kissed me.”

“Okay,” Steve said slowly. “Was it a bad kiss or something?”

“I really don’t think that’s necessary to ask,” Eddie huffed.

“Steve!” you frowned, waving your hands. “Why are you not upset about this?”

“Well, because I figured you guys would’ve kissed a lot by now? You’re together after all.”

“What? Eddie and I aren’t together! That doesn’t even make sense. You’re his boyfriend.”

“Me?” Steve balked. “I—what?”

“Yeah-huh, you guys have been dating since Eddie gave you that ring.”

Steve’s mouth fell open. “We have not.”

“Have too!”

“You guys have been dating since Eddie came back from the Upside Down,” Steve said. “Remember, you had that heartfelt reunion, you cried in his arms, et cetera.”

“You two are so in love with each other it’s not funny,” you argued, stomping your foot. “You’re always flirting and cracking jokes and talking about how handsome you are.”

“Well, yeah, but I flirt with you too!” Steve cried. 

That stopped you in your tracks. 

“You… what?”

“Wow, okay,” Eddie interrupted, rubbing his face. “Okay, alright. Wow. Uh, so here’s the thing. I actually thought we’ve all been dating for about a month now, but, turns out I’m an even bigger dumbass than I thought.”

Steve looked like you’d just asked him to do calculus. You weren’t faring much better.

“Now, that can’t be right,” said Steve.

Eddie’s hands fluttered. “I gave you guys rings! And I said how I, y’know, really cared about you both.”

“Right, you said you cared about Y/N as more than a friend and that if I was okay with it, you wanted us to spend more time together and get to know each other… oh.”

Steve glanced at you, grimacing.

“Whoops,” you said. 

“Big whoops,” he agreed.

Eddie sighed, twisting his rings round and round. “It’s cool. I guess I should’ve said something earlier, made it clear. I understand if you two don’t wanna do that. It was… hasty to assume that from you, especially both—”

“Eds, Eddie,” you cut him off. “Honey, I’m like, really in love with both of you. I was losing my mind with jealousy every time we hung out.”

He brightened. “Really?”

“Okay, you don’t have to sound so excited,” you giggled.

“Sorry,” Eddie said, having the decency to look chastened. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’m just—God, you don’t know how happy that makes me. That is—I mean, Steve?”

“I—” Steve looked shellshocked. “You like me? Both of you?”

“A little more like love, actually,” Eddie grinned. 

“Yes, Steve, it would seem that in spite of you dressing like one of The Outsiders, we are both head over heels for you.” 

“Well, I’m in love with you too, Y/N. Even after you’ve helped Pa bring in the harvest.”

“Oh, now you’re gonna get it, Harrington. Confessing your love won’t stop me and my overalls from waging war!”

You sprung forward, fully intending to tackle Steve. However, you sorely underestimated his jock phase and ended up landing on the ground instead, Steve hovering over you.

“Get her!” he ordered and then there were two pairs of hands tickling you.

“That’s not f-fair, it’s two against o-one!” you squealed between peals of laughter. “You were supposed to be my a-ally, Eds!”

Eddie relented after a moment, collapsing on the floor and pulling you to the side. He locked you in a deep kiss: a proper one. You slung an arm around his neck, playing with some of his curls. Kissing him was better than you could’ve imagined. Eddie surrounded you, holding your face.

Steve had taken mercy as well, fitted into your other side. And as soon as Eddie let go of you, he swooped in. Steve kissed differently from Eddie, preferring to hold onto your hip instead, thumb drawing circles. He gasped into your mouth, teeth just barely catching your lip. You made a soft noise as he pulled away, drunk on both of them.

Finally, Eddie surged up to meet Steve in a kiss. They were a little rougher with each other, wrestling around as they hummed into each other. But eventually, they settled with Eddie on his back next to you. You watched happily, curling up next to him. Steve let go after a couple seconds, rolling onto Eddie’s other side. 

“You know, you wanna talk about healthcode violations, this carpet would not pass any sort of inspection if its life depended on it.”

You cackled as Steve whined, scrambling onto the couch.

“Oh, come on!” he huffed. “That’s disgusting, man.”

“Kidding!” Eddie laughed. “I’m kidding, promise. C’mon, come down. You still have to choose a movie.”

“Yeah, and it has to be a good one ‘cause this is our first movie as a throuple,” you added.

“Great, thanks. No pressure.”

“No, full pressure,” Eddie corrected. “But don’t worry, man. We forgive your taste in movies. The leather is doing it for me.”

“Plus, you have a cute butt,” you said.

“That too,” Eddie nodded solemnly. “The cutest.”

“It’s perky.”

“Firm.”

“A prize-winning rump.”

“Can it, dorks,” Steve shushed. “Movie’s starting.”

Frankie Valli’s voice suddenly filled the room. You and Eddie burst into uncontrollable giggles that only worsened when Steve jumped up and began to sing along.

“Grease is the word, is the word that you heard!” he sang, a little pitchy on the high notes but otherwise very decent. “It’s got groove, it’s got meaning!”

And this time, when Eddie got up to goof along, there were no pangs in your chest. You watched on, feeling nothing but love. 

[kckt88]

Take My Breath Away XIII.

Summary:

A new Targaryen is born and Aegon does something stupid.

Warning(s): Language, Surprise Pregnancy, Time Skip, P in V Sex, Child Birth, Kiss, Realisation.

A.N - Features an Aegon POV.

Word Count: 4670

GREENS WIN - ENEMIES TO LOVERS.

Tag List - @ammo23, @immyowndefender,

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“Where is he?” shouted Vaeryna.

“Who?” asked Rhaegar.

“Your father, I’m going to kill him” replied Vaeryna.

“H-He’s with the King” exclaimed Rhaegar.

Vaeryna turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, leaving a stunned Rhaegar staring at his mother’s retreating form.

The walk to Aegon’s rooms wasn’t to far, but it was enough for Vaeryna to work herself up and by the time she reached her destination, she was ready to give Aemond a piece of her mind.

After she took a deep breath, Vaeryna didn’t bother to knock as she just shoved open the door and hastily looked around the room for the object of her ire.

“My love, what brings you here?”

“YOU” snarled Vaeryna.

“Oh gods, what have you done” exclaimed Aegon as he cautiously backed away from Vaeryna.

“I-I don’t know” muttered Aemond.

“Oh, you don’t know-how about I refresh your memory husband. That afternoon we spent in bed, and you said you was going to put another babe in me” replied Vaeryna.

“You don’t mean-“

“-Yes, I’ve just been to see the Maester, and he’s confirmed that I’m with child again” said Vaeryna, her amethyst eyes alight with fury.

“For the love of seven, another one?” gasped Aegon.

“Issa prūmia” whispered Aemond (My heart).

“Damn you with your big cock and fertile fucking seed” quipped Vaeryna.

“I feel like I should not be part of this conversation” muttered Aegon.

“This is all your fault” said Vaeryna.

“Me? I don’t think so-it’s super seed over here” replied Aegon gesturing to Aemond who held his hands up in mock surrender but couldn’t stop the smirk from spreading across his face.

“I don’t know exactly how this is your fault, but it is he’s your brother so there”.

“My love a child is a blessing from-“

“-Don’t even dare finish that sentence or I will have your tongue ripped out” said Vaeryna.

“As I recall, you were a willing participant in the creation of our child, you even agreed to let me put my seed in you multiple times” replied Aemond.

“I-I was in the throes of my peak I wasn’t truly aware-“ stuttered Vaeryna blushing.

“-So, you didn’t mean it when you said that I was the best lover you’ve ever had, and you wished that I could keep my cock stuffed inside you at all times?” said Aemond smirking.

“Oh, you-just shut up. Besides you’re the only lover I’ve had” snarked Vaeryna.

“Even after all these years of marriage, I still love it when you blush like a maiden” muttered Aemond as he wrapped his arms around his wife.

“Is that all you love about me?” mused Vaeryna.

Aemond smiled and shook his head, he went to kiss Vaeryna but then he remembered that Aegon was there, staring at the two of them with a completely bewildered expression upon his face.

“You two are enough to drive a man to drink” muttered Aegon.

“Well, you already drink so how does that work?” replied Vaeryna as she began pressing gentle kisses to Aemond’s scared cheek.

“Hm ābrazȳrys” growled Aemond as Vaeryna lowered her mouth and began nipping and sucking his neck (Wife).

“Issa nēdenka zaldrīzes” whispered Vaeryna (My fierce dragon).

Aemond could feel himself growing hard in his breeches, his desire for his wife quickly roaring to life, coursing through every fibre of his being. He needed to regain control and fast otherwise he’d end up ravishing her right there.

“My love, we cannot do this here. L-Let us go to our chambers” whispered Aemond as he gently squeezed his wife’s rear.

“Then I suggest we make all haste husband; I seem to have developed a desire for you to Obūljagon issa toliot se gūrogon issa hen inkot” said Vaeryna (Bend me over and take me from behind).

“I know the language of our forebears as well you know” muttered Aegon as he pressed his hands over his ears.

“Come wife, let me sate your desire” said Aemond as he took Vaeryna’s hand and dragged her out of the room, leaving a slightly jealous and flustered Aegon in their wake.

The news of Vaeryna’s pregnancy was taken quite well.

It was important that all the children were informed and on board with the fact that they would have another sibling.

“How did the babe get in mama’s tummy?” asked Saeryna.

“Father put it in there” replied Jaehaeryn.

“How?”

“That’s a conversation for when your older” said Aemond frowning.

“Why?” asked Saeryna tilting her head to the side.

“Because you’re a little young at the moment” said Aemond closing his eye and taking a deep breath.

“But I am almost seven name days old” retorted Saeryna.

“Add another fifty million name days onto that and then I might think about telling you.”

“Oh, Kepa your being very silly” laughed Saeryna (Father).

“You know what else is silly?” asked Aemond smiling.

“No what?” asked Saeryna, her eyes wide.

“The tickle monster” exclaimed Aemond as he grabbed hold of Saeryna and began tickling her.

Saeryna’s delighted squeals of laughter echoed around the chamber and soon all of the younger children were set upon by the dangerous tickle monster.

Vaeryna loved watching Aemond with their children. His love for their family was boundless, and every day Vaeryna was thankful to have been blessed in such a manner.

Suddenly a knock at the door broke the tickle monsters reign of terror and Aegon appeared.

“UNCLE AEGON”

“Oh, my so many children at once” gasped Aegon as he was set upon by Saeryna and Caelee.

“Brother” said Aemond as he nodded politely.

“I guess the news of another babe was well received?” asked Aegon as he picked up Caelee and bounced her in his arms.

“Apart from Saeryna asking where babes come from and Jaehaeryn telling her that I put it in there” replied Aemond quietly.

“Well, he’s not wrong, you did put it in there-a lot from what I’ve heard”.

“Spying on me and my lady wife, are you?” asked Aemond narrowing his eye.

“Gods no. I like my skin attached to my body thank you-but I’ve heard you both a time or two that’s all. Mayhaps you should learn to be a bit quieter when you come” said Aegon smirking.

“Halt your vulgarity in from of my children” snapped Aemond as he hauled Caelee from Aegon’s arms and placed her on Jaehaera’s knee.

“Might want to make sure your wife covers up her neck then-I can see the love bites from here, gods brother you should really learn to be gentler”.

“-And you should learn when to close that mouth of yours” snapped Aemond.

“Where’s the fun in that?” exclaimed Aegon as he waltzed past Aemond and sat next to Jaehaera.

“Easy there father, if looks could kill,” said Rhaegar.

“Then my brother would be long dead, and I would free of his sarcastic attitude and punchable face” replied Aemond.

“Come, have some wine. Let us celebrate the new babe,” said Rhaegar.

“Hm” replied Aemond as he spied Daenerys huddled in the corner talking to Aegon the Younger.

“Relax. Their only talking” urged Vaeryna softly as she placed a hand on Aemond’s lower back.

“For now,” muttered Aemond.

“Mother, your neck” said Rhaegar quietly.

“Apologize son, it seems as though I was attacked by a mindless beast” replied Vaeryna.

“Mindless? I knew exactly what I was doing” exclaimed Aemond.

“I did not need to hear that-gods you two are so gross” gasped Rhaegar as he moved away from his parents.

“Is everything ok my love-you look a little pale”.

“I’m a Targaryen, I always look pale” said Vaeryna grimacing as her stomach churned.

“No, seriously you look-“

“-I-I’m going to be sick” exclaimed Vaeryna as she ran to the nearest vase and threw up.

“Mama sick” gasped Caelee nervously.

“It’s ok sweet girl, sometimes having a babe can make the mama’s sick” whispered Jaehaera.

“But your not sick” replied Caelee.

“Wait-what?” asked Vaeryna as she looked towards Jaehaera who blushed furiously.

“Oh, well I-I think that I might be with child” said Jaehaera softly.

“Really? That’s fantastic” said Vaeryna smiling before she threw up again.

“I-I’m going to be a father?” asked Rhaegar as he took Jaehaera’s hand.

“We need to have it confirmed my the Maester” replied Jaehaera softly.

“Another baby” shrieked Vharla.

“Will that make me an uncle?” asked Aerys.

“Yes, it will” said Jaehaera smiling.

“My love, this is wonderful” said Rhaegar smiling.

“I’m going to be a grandsire” muttered Aemond scowling at Aegon the Younger who snickered.

“-Who’s about to have another child. Easy their gramps-wouldn’t want you to break a hip or anything” said Aegon holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“You’re going to be a grandsire too you insufferable twat” spat Aemond.

“Shit, your right” exclaimed Aegon.

This was definitely her last babe.

Vaeryna had felt awful for the entirety of her term, the sickness was incomprehensible, and the back ache was dreadful.

There were of course rare days where she could actually walk around without feeling like her spine was about to disintegrate and on those days Vaeryna would sit with Jaehaera and the younger children in the gardens and enjoy the sun.

Ever since she discovered that she was with child, Jaehaera would often lean on Vaeryna for support, as she was incredibly nervous.

Not to mention Rhaegar at the age of six and ten was also a bag of nerves and would regularly consult with his father on how to support his lady wife during her labours.

Aemond of course was on hand to assuage any fears his oldest son had and would often provide him some much-needed advice.

Even Alicent in her advancing years was on hand to offer her aide, although her ramblings about the faith of the seven often left Rhaegar with a headache, so he tended to avoid spending too much time in his grandmothers presence.

Saeryna of course still followed Aegon everywhere and Vharla had take a shine to her other uncle Aegon and they would often be spotted in each other’s company, which pleased Vaeryna greatly.

Aerys and Jaehaeryn were of course thick as thieves and would find themselves in bother, whether it was with the kitchen staff for stealing sweets or the septas for skipping their lessons.

Daenerys was the only one of her children who seemed tolerant of her grandmothers lectures on faith and duty, and would often spend hours in her company, but as it turned out she was only tolerant because she would stick cotton wool in her ears to drown out the sound of Alicent’s voice, a trick apparently her uncle Aegon taught her when she was a child.

Aemond of course was not amused when he found out and almost gave his brother a damn good thrashing before Daenerys intervened.

Of course, Aemond had other matters to attend too.

“Gods when will this end” groused Vaeryna as Aemond rubbed her swollen stomach.

“I’m sorry your so uncomfortable my love” whispered Aemond.

“This is the last one Aemond. I cannot do this anymore” mumbled Vaeryna.

“You have given me seven children-soon to be eight, there will be no more babes after this”.

“I love you very much you know” said Vaeryna softly.

“-And I love you my beautiful wife” muttered Aemond as he began pressing soft kisses to her swollen stomach.

“Aemond” moaned Vaeryna.

“Is there something you need my sweet?” asked Aemond.

“Y-You-I need you to help get this babe out of me” exclaimed Vaeryna as Aemond carefully manoeuvred her onto her side and laid behind her.

“As you wish” replied Aemond, pressing a kiss to her shoulder as he took hold of his hard cock and pressed it into her warm wet folds.

“Oh, gods Aemond. Yes, right there” moaned Vaeryna as she pushed back against him.

“My wife, my love” gasped Aemond as he increased the pace of his thrusts.

Usually, their love making was passionate and all consuming, but today it was gentle and sweet.

Aemond delighted in the little moans his wife would make as she approached her peak, her pregnancy had made her more sensitive and Aemond relished every opportunity he had to be inside his willing wife.

“P-Please, husband. I-I’m going to-“ exclaimed Vaeryna.

Aemond pressed his face into Vaeryna’s shoulder and groaned as he felt her cunny clenching around him.

“That’s it, my love. Come for me” moaned Aemond as he pressed a finger to Vaeryna’s pearl and began stroking it in tandem with his thrusts.

“Oh, gods Aemond, don’t stop. Please don’t stop” begged Vaeryna.

“Yes wife-“ gasped Aemond as he felt his own peak approaching.

“-AEMOND” screamed Vaeryna as she exploded.

“FUCK” roared Aemond as he spilled rope after rope of seed inside her.

“I love you so fucking much” exclaimed Vaeryna.

“-Love you too my Idañnykeā perzys” replied Aemond softly (Twin flame).

“ōños hen issa glaeson” replied Vaeryna (Light of my life).

“-Should you be here?” asked Aegon.

“Aemond is flying with Vhagar, and I wanted some company” replied Vaeryna as she braced her weight on the table and slowly sat down.

“You look like your about to pop at any moment” said Aegon.

“Oh, believe me I know. I’ve tried everything to get the babe out-walking, spicy food, I even tried some rank tea that Maester Munkun suggested and nothing” exclaimed Vaeryna.

“-Have you and Aemond-you know?”

“I’ve taken his cock everyday sometimes more than once; in every position I can manage and still nothing” said Vaeryna.

“Thanks for that vivid depiction” muttered Aegon.

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t enjoy the thought” quipped Vaeryna smirking.

“You know most wives would feel uncomfortable knowing that someone else lusts after their husband” retorted Aegon as he took a sip of wine.

“I’m not like most wives; besides I know Aemond would never stick his cock in another person-not without my consent anyway” said Vaeryna.

“Your not wrong there, I’ve never known a man be so cuntstruck”.

“It’s called being in love” said Vaeryna.

“As much as I think of you both-I know nothing would ever come of it”.

“Wait-what did you just say?” asked Vaeryna.

“N-Nothing” stammered Aegon.

“Y-You said both-” replied Vaeryna her eyes going wide as a sharp pain shot across her stomach.

“I-Is everything ok?”.

“The babe is coming” gasped Vaeryna as the was a sudden rush of water between her legs.

“W-We need to get the Maester” exclaimed Aegon as he sprang out of his chair.

“Just remain calm-oh fuck” shrieked Vaeryna as a series of contractions tore across her stomach.

“W-What should I do” exclaimed Aegon.

“I-I need you to help me” exclaimed Vaeryna as she doubled over in pain.

“Y-Yes I’ll help you to your chambers” replied Aegon as he helped Vaeryna to stand up.

“N-No, it’s coming-now I can feel it” urged Vaeryna.

“Surely it cannot come this fast” grumbled Aegon.

“I-It is coming that fast, Aegon I-I need you to help me take off my small clothes”.

“I’m not entirely comfortable with that” muttered Aegon.

“STOP BEING A GIRL AND FUCKING HELP ME” yelled Vaeryna.

“This is not the way I envisioned taking off your small clothes” replied Aegon as he reached under Vaeryna’s skirt.

“What?” gasped Vaeryna.

“N-Nothing” said Aegon quickly discarding his good sister’s small clothes.

“I need you to look” urged Vaeryna as she sunk to the floor and pressed her back against the wall.

“I-I don’t want to see that”.

“JUST FUCKING LOOK” balled Vaeryna as another contraction ripped across her stomach.

Aegon let out a small whimper of protest as he descended to his knees and slowly looked between Vaeryna’s open legs.

“What can you see?”

“I-I think I see the head and there’s some other stuff that I’m going to pretend I don’t see-oh gods this is so gross, I should not be seeing you in this way” said Aegon grimacing.

Gods, how did his absolute twat of a brother manage to do this seven times? How he managed to remain steadfast at his wife’s side as she birthed their babes was something Aegon would never know.

“I don’t have anyone else. P-Please Aegon, don’t leave me” cried Vaeryna as Aegon began backing away from her, his face even paler than usual.

“I-I’m not sure I’m the right person for this” replied Aegon.

“Please, I need you” begged Vaeryna.

Aegon shook like a leaf as he watched his good sister cry, the tears rolled down her sweat drenched face and something inside him shifted into place, she needed him, even if Aemond would more than likely skin him alive, he couldn’t leave her. Not now.

“I’m not leaving you” said Aegon sternly.

“I want AEMOND” screamed Vaeryna.

“You and me both” quipped Aegon, oh why did Aemond have to go flying with Vhagar today, the selfish prick could have waited.

“I-Is it coming?” asked Vaeryna as she took a deep breath and pushed.

Aegon steeled himself for what he was about to see and prayed to the seven that Aemond would not inflict momentous amounts of pain upon him for what he was about to see.

“Yes, the babe is coming-you’re doing amazing, keep pushing, that’s it” said Aegon.

“I-I’m not sure I can do it anymore” huffed Vaeryna.

“You can do this, you are blood of the dragon, not some weakling mouse. NOW PUSH”

Vaeryna took a deep breath and pushed with every ounce of strength she still possessed.

“The head is out-oh gods it’s so disgusting, but keep going, you’re doing great” said Aegon, grimacing as his stomach churned. Oh boy did he regret consuming that pitcher of wine earlier.

Vaeryna nodded and with one final push, the babe arrived with a wet squelch.

“It’s a boy” shrieked Aegon excitedly as he pulled of his loose cotton shirt and wrapped it around the crying babe.

“I-Is he ok?” asked Vaeryna as he held out her arms expectantly.

“He’s crying well-so I think he’s ok” replied Aegon as he handed the squalling pink babe to Vaeryna, who sobbed with happiness.

Aegon couldn’t help himself as he leaned forward to press a kiss to Vaeryna’s cheek but at the last moment she turned to face him, and his lips pressed against hers.

“S-Sorry I shouldn’t have done that-“ stuttered Aegon as he pulled away in a panic.

“It was an accident-” said Vaeryna softly.

“-Yes-an accident” retorted Aegon quickly, knowing full well that whilst it may have been an accident on her part, it certainly wasn’t on his.

He’d got caught up in the emotion of the situation they were in and something crazy had taken hold of him.

He had fully intended on kissing her, oh gods Aemond was going to kill him.

“T-Thank you for being here, I couldn’t have done this without you” said Vaeryna smiling.

“It’s ok. Just don’t ever ask me to do it again” replied Aegon quietly.

Suddenly the door flew open and Aemond appeared, out of breath and looking flustered.

“It’s about fucking time” snapped Aegon.

“Y-You had t-the babe” exclaimed Aemond in amazement as he knelt down next to Vaeryna.

“No shit” mumbled Aegon.

“It’s a boy” said Vaeryna, her face lit up as she smiled.

“Are you ok?” asked Aemond as he gently stroked his newborn son’s tuft of silver hair.

“I am, thanks to Aegon” said Vaeryna quietly as she gently laid her head on Aemond’s shoulder.

“Thank you, brother,”

“Your welcome” replied Aegon, trying to ignore the odd feelings stirring within him as he gazed at Vaeryna. Their brief kind of accidental kiss was still playing on his mind.

“What shall we call our son?” asked Aemond as he pressed a kiss to his wife’s sweaty forehead.

“Aegar. In honour of his uncle” replied Vaeryna softly.

“A-Are you serious?” exclaimed Aegon, his eyes filling with tears.

“If it wasn’t for you, I don’t know what I would have done” said Vaeryna.

Aegon smiled widely as Maester Munkun finally arrived and the rest of Vaeryna and Aemond’s children appeared, standing at the doorway eagerly waiting for permission to meet their new sibling.

“Come meet Aegar” breathed Aemond proudly as Vaeryna placed their tiny son in his arms.

As Maester Munkun examined Vaeryna and helped her deliver the after birth, which totally grossed Aegon out even more than seeing his good siter give birth, Aemond took Aegar over to his older siblings who immediately began to melt at the tiny bundle in his arms.

“He’s so tiny” whispered Daenerys in awe.

“Congratulations, both of you” said Aegon the Younger.

“He looks like you father” said Rhaegar as he manoeuvred Caelee in his arms so she could meet her new brother.

“No, he doesn’t he looks like an old raisin” said Jaehaeryn.

“Boy are you serious?” asked Aemond.

“Sorry father” muttered Jaehaeryn.

“Oh well done he’s perfect” cooed Jaehaera as she ran a hand along her own swollen stomach.

“I love him already” said Vharla sweetly.

“Can I hold him?” asked Aerys.

“Maybe later ok, remember he’s only just been born, he’ll need feeding soon” replied Aemond softly.

“Would you be able to help take the Princess back to your chambers?” asked Maester Munkun.

“I’ll carry her-Aegon take my son and don’t drop him” said Aemond.

“As if I would” snapped Aegon as he took Aegar into his arms.

Aemond bent down and lifted Vaeryna into his arms, her head rested on his shoulder as she closed her eyes, a small smile on her face.

“Right come on you lots let’s give mother and father some privacy” said Rhaegar as he shooed his siblings out the room.

“But I want to see that baby more” whined Saeryna.

“You can see him on the morrow, sweet girl remember that mother will be tired and Aegar needs to be fed, it’s been a busy day” said Daenerys softly.

“Ok but I want to sew him a teddy, one that looks like a dragon”.

“That sounds wonderful-can I help?” asked Jaehaera.

“Yes, you can and Aerys too” replied Saeryna sweetly.

“Ha-tough luck baby brother” laughed Jaehaeryn.

“-And you can come with me to inform grandmother of her new grandson,” said Rhaegar.

“Rhaegar-no, she’ll talk about the seven” moaned Jaehaeryn.

“Should have thought about that before you opened your mouth-fathers right your too much like uncle Aegon” retorted Rhaegar.

“Which one?”

“Enough-now” snapped Rhaegar as he seized Jaehaeryn by the scruff of the neck and marched him down the corridor.

“Is everything ok brother?” asked Aemond.

“W-What?” asked Aegon.

“You seem a little out of sorts” replied Aemond.

“I’ve seen things today that I wish to forget” muttered Aegon, his accidental-on purpose kiss with Vaeryna kept playing on a loop in his mind.

“Are you sure that’s all that’s bothering you?”

“I-I did something really stupid and now-“

“-Husband, I’m ready to get out the bath” said Vaeryna.

“I need to help Vaeryna, wait there and we can talk after-watch Aegar will you” exclaimed Aemond as he gave his brother one last look of concern before he disappeared into the separate bathing chamber.

Aegon sat on next to the crib that Aegar was currently asleep in, and he looked down at his newly born nephew, the beginnings of an unfamiliar feeling blooming in his chest.

He felt truly honoured to have his nephew named after him, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Vaeryna.

Their accidental-on purpose kiss had been brief, but Aegon could still remember the feeling of her soft lips upon his.

He’d once confessed that he loved her as his good sister, but over the years as their friendship developed more so had his feelings, sure he had a curiosity about Aemond who wouldn’t, the guy was stunningly beautiful, but his wife gods she was something else.

He wasn’t a very good King and he spent most of his days drunk, but Vaeryna never treated him any less for it, she always spoke to him with unfailing honesty and compassion, she was different from all the women he usually surrounded himself with.

Sure, he was heavily scared below the waist, and he couldn’t sire children anymore but that didn’t stop him from indulging in the pleasures of the flesh from time to time, only his most trusted and favourite whores were invited to keep him company, two females and one male, paid handsomely of course. They were perhaps the richest whores in all of Kings Landing.

Granted he didn’t actually indulge with his male whore all that much, it was more of an itch that needed scratching every so often. It was the females he spent the most time with, they were soft and sweet and sometimes he would close his eyes and pretend that the whore riding him was Vaeryna.

He often felt sick afterwards, much like he did when he would fantasize that the male whore was his brother, he knew Targaryen’s had queer customs, that fact never bothered him it was that he lusted after two people who were so deeply in love with one another that they would never even so much as cast anyone a second look.

Given how their relationship began, Aegon never would have imagined that this is where his brother and Vaeryna would end up, but here they were-happy, in love and here he was kissing a woman who’d just birthed a babe.

Gods there must be something wrong with him, surely doing that wasn’t normal.

Suddenly Aegar gave a little squeak and Aegon lurched forward to check his nephew, who had begun to stir.

“Come on little one; don’t cry” whispered Aegon as he lifted the babe into his arms and began rocking him gently.

Aegar whimpered for a moment before he quietened down and fell back to sleep, Aegon smiled as he gazed at his sweet little nephew.

For the briefest of moments, he allowed himself to sink into the delusion that this was his son, his silver haired little boy and that Vaeryna as his wife, but before he could drown, he was snapped out of his reverie by the reappearance of Aemond who had an arm wrapped around Vaeryna’s waist as she hobbled across the room.

“I-Is he ok?” asked Vaeryna as she slipped into bed.

“I think he might be getting hungry” replied Aegon as he reluctantly passed Aegar to his father.

“I did wonder” mused Vaeryna as she began undoing the laces of her shift.

“You know I think I’ll take my leave-you need your rest and well I-I need a drink” said Aegon looking at the ceiling.

“Thank you for today Aegon, I couldn’t have done any of it without you”.

“Don’t mention it” replied Aegon still looking at the ceiling.

“He’s latched on well hasn’t he-“ said Aemond softly.

“Definitely his fathers son with how quick he took to the nipple” laughed Vaeryna.

Aegon cringed as his brother and Vaeryna continued to talk about breasts and nipples and for fuck sake he had to get out of there.

“I’ll go now-mayhaps I will see you both at some point tomorrow” gasped Aegon.

“Didn’t you want to tell me something earlier-“

“NO-I mean it’s nothing, I’ll see-speak to you tomorrow” replied Aegon as he turned on his heel and left the room.

As soon as he returned to his chambers, he poured himself a generous cup of wine, and flopped onto the sofa.

“Y-Your Grace, are you in need of anything further tonight?”

Aegon paused for a moment, unsure of what to say, part of him just wanted to consume enough wine that he forgot his own name and the other part wanted to summon his favourite whores.

In the end he decided to have both.

“Send for Nessa and Markus and bring me some more wine” said Aegon.

“Y-Yes Your Grace”.

The bells of Kings Landing could be heard ringing in the distance in celebration of the birth of a new Targaryen Prince.

If tonight was about celebration, then Aegon was determined to make it one to remember.

[muffinsin]

Hello my FAVORITE child, your Mother stopping by to drop a HC request if ya don't mind humoring me. I give you free reign with the maidens.... they are replaceable . But my vases and flowers are off limits still. You still do no wrong and are so perfect, smart and intelligent.

Also make sure u drain the blood the way Alci showed with the maidens. Now to my ask...... *unfolds a long ass piece of parchment paper and puts on my glasses*

Ok so hear me out. You know my HC on Feral Cass after her Cadou implant. Like babygirl is dumb ass rocks. She cant speak, talk, read, write, like nothing. Her whole brain gets wiped from something going wrong w her Cadou. She ask like a legit animal, like growling and snarls instead of words. U know feral feral.

SO like I would LOVE to hear your HC's on what Feral Cass would be like if she is like on a hunt and finds a pregnant women in the woods. For some reason or the other the women is lost from the village cuz preggo brain. Like she can smell that the women is with child and gets maybe curious about just what that means. *dumb ass rocks Cass but still has those baser instincts to know that this isn't normal prey* And maybe Cass like ends up protecting the women from an attack *cuz u know those woods aint never safe* so she is even more confused on why she did that. Why protect this "bloated "human ? Its just a human... right? She kills humans just to kill, what was different about this one type.

OK I go now... I ramble. BYYYEEEEE MY FAVORTIE CHILD!!!!!!

Hello, Mother @darkittensniper ! I suppose the vases and flowers being off limits is acceptable aims hatchets at the windows Being right and correct and all😌🙌 Dw, I know how to drain em >:)

Nooooow, abso-freaking-lutely! We love sum feral Cassie in this house🙌

Let’s get into it :)!

Masterlists

Noises, smells, visuals, everywhere. Cassandra loves and hates it at the same time

Her head jerks, from left to right, up and down. Her eyes wide, her lips parted enough to allow a glimpse of sharp, white canines dripping blood

Every little sound has her attention

Every little movement has her twitch and glance in the direction

Every scent makes her growl quietly

A hunt- a good hunt, this one will be. Certainly

If only she could settle on a prey. There is simply so much to choose from, she’s foaming at the mouth and growling in excitement already

Birds, boars, rabbits, villagers and hunters, Lycans and bears, even a varcolac!

She turns her head to the right, so fast it feels as though her neck is snapping

Cassandra snarls at the sensation, and for a moment it’s enough to drown out the noise she has just heard

Ah, but it returns. Panting

Yes, unmistakably

Female. Exhausted. Panicking. Crying

Cassandra’s eyes flash dangerously for a moment

She snarls for a mere moment again, her claw-like nails digging sharply into the handles of her daggers. For a second she considers dropping them, before the memory of the special engravings on its handle remind her not to do so

Then, a smirk appears on her face when she catches the direction of the strange scent

She is ready to hunt

She runs fast, uncaring and unaware of her dress getting stuck on twigs and thorns and ripping free again seconds after

Often, it nearly makes her trip. She pays it no mind, only keeps running

She can’t think, can’t talk, can’t do a thing but follow the noise and follow her basic instinct to discover, claim, and kill

The closer the gets, the more feral she seems to become

Her mouth waters at the loud heartbeat she hears, her eyes widen at the overwhelming scent that hits her

Suddenly she stops in her tracks, so sudden it’s as if she’s run into an invisible wall

She snarls, then whimpers, as though in confusion

Certainly, this scent is different than a normal one

Hunger and brutality is met with curiosity

As her legs come to a final halt and she stalks quietly, she finds her prey

She moves under twigs and through bushes, quietly snarking and smacking them away with the sharp sides of the daggers

Her lips curl upwards when she finds her prey again, this time being granted a closer look

Panting, crying, hissing and groaning, clutching her bloated stomach. Poor thing. Not that Cassandra understands

A woman. This much is clear

You’re unaware of the feral, beast-like brunette watching you from among the trees

You don’t hear her growl, her snarl of frustration when she can’t figure out what’s different about you

You don’t care, either, though

Not when all your attention is pulled to your foot and the harsh metal spikes piercing it

The flesh of your ankle is swollen and red, pulsing and radiating heat. You cry out and pant to yourself as you attempt to work on the sharp metallic teeth

A bear trap

Cassandra catches wind of this, too

Her lips are all too dry, and as her tongue darts out to lick them, her eyes flash to the blood covering your ankle

Hunger takes over her again, and as she inhales sharply, a small, excited squeak passes her lips

Her head jerks sideways again when a roar is heard, loud enough to cover her hiss and growls of displeasure and loud enough for even you to hear

A bear

She feels excited again, her bloodlust returning wholly, among something else

She needs to slay this beast

She practically tastes your panic in the air as the sound rings out and scares nearby birds

Is she about to watch the bear devour you? It doesn’t seem so

With a mind too clouded, the feral brunette can’t even entertain the idea of it

Instead, she swarms fast, the tip of her dagger grazing your shoulder as she stands in front of you

Protectively, even

She bares her teeth at the large animal coming from among the twigs and bushes, her own, sharp canines on display, blood and drool forming at her mouth

The beast stares for a moment, as though to think this over

Both are locked into a staring match, neither advert their eyes, neither moving at all

She takes in the black fur, the brown eyes, the mouth pulled to form a snarl similar to hers

Sharp teeth, perhaps even sharper claws on the animal’s paws

She practically vibrates with excitement, her flies buzzing both excitedly and aggressively

After a few seconds, she can’t stand the anticipation any longer

She charges, a growl and snarl coming from her

Yet, in her dizzying bloodlust and excitement, she is once again too fast and little strategic

As the bear moves sideways, Cassandra hisses. She slams against one of the trees, the wood hard against her shoulder

She snarls angrily, her body turning back to the bear running at her. It too is ready to charge now

She rips herself from the tree, her daggers slicing harshly into the bear’s massive neck

As blood spills and slaps her in the face, she laughs, the sound almost high pitched in excitement, the most human one she has been able to make so far

Clearly, she is enjoying herself

You watch in awe as she fights the beast, the show temporarily distracting you from the aching and biting pain of your ankle

The bear falls fast, a loud roar the last sound coming from it when daggers and teeth dig into its neck and rip brutally

A quick death, albeit a bloody one. You wonder if yours will be the same

The brunette hasn’t yet turned her attention back to you

She’s studying the body, sniffing and prodding, cutting and licking the blood off the blades, uncaring when she accidentally makes a cut at her own tongue or lip

You watch her, elegant, yet not elegant at all at the same time…her movements are fast and animalistic, feral

She snaps her head when she hears something, sniffs and tilts her head to examine the corpse

And yet, the way she holds her daggers, the way her back is just slightly arched as she has a look…she has something regal about her, a mere trace of elegance deep within

You turn your attention back to the bear trap

When you attempt to grasp one of the metallic claws and tug the trap open, you nearly scream in pain. It doesn’t budge, and you can’t see it properly with your stomach disallowing you to sit up as you’d like to

You bite down on your lip harshly, so that only a whimper comes from you, and gently stroke over your stomach to calm yourself

You remember what you have been told. To stay calm. To avoid stress. Well, that’s working out well for you…

Yet, you don’t realise that your pained whimper immediately has her head snap back to you

She’s back at you in an instant, her eyes following you when you flinch backwards

She feels- confused

Why did she save you?

Cassandra hovers over you, the blood at her face immediately catching your attention

Yet, with your leg stuck, you can’t even pull away as she climbs over you, the slightly torn parts of her dress almost ticklish against your trapped leg

You watch her face lower to your stomach, her expression almost confused

Cassandra snarls for a moment. No response comes from you or your stomach

Why is it like that? Why do you smell so odd?

She catches the scent, yours, and your blood. And another. A light one. Coming from your stomach

You tense as she inhales, her cheek brushing against your covered stomach

Cassandra only grows more curious. Uncaring about you, she sinks her teeth into the fabric of your shirt and pulls it up

Yet, when she doesn’t find a human curled against you like expected, but a large stomach only, she jumps back in surprise

Had it not been for the quick beat of your heart and the painful ache of your leg, you might’ve laughed at the strange view of this woman being startled by your stomach

However, she is quick to approach you again

With her head tilted sideways, she eyes you curiously

You realise- she isn’t going to hurt you. Nor is she going to hurt your unborn baby

Instead, she keeps sniffing about, eyes wide, fingers poking and prodding as though to confirm it’s your skin

When you attempt to sit up, you scream, having momentarily forgotten about the bear trap

Her eyes flash and widen, and for a mere moment the beautiful gold in them catches you off guard

You watch her move down your body, sniffing and inspecting you, as though checking for more wounds

Then, she is right at the beartrap

She grabs it, and with a firm yank, it comes loose

You scream, and for a moment, clutch your stomach tightly

Confusion sets in when Cassandra copies the action, her bloodied hands on top of you too

She seems unsure of her own actions, as though they’re driven purely by instinct, rather than actual thought and consideration

She watches you for a few more moments, before leaning close to your stomach again

You gasp in surprise when she suddenly smears her face against you, her bloodied cheek rubbing against you

Affectionately, almost

She growls as she repeats the action, again, and again

At last, she faces you again

Her head tilts. She takes you in, you realize. She is curious about you

“I’m from-the village”, you clarify for her. You wonder whether she can even understand you

She certainly looks human

“I got lost”, you admit, your voice raspy from screaming and crying

You don’t dare look down at your injured leg, instead keep your eyes fixated on her golden ones

She whines and snarls for a moment, then seems to come up with whatever she has been trying to think of

You shriek in surprise when her arms wrap around you and you’re lifted off the dirty ground

With certainty, she begins to walk, seemingly bringing you deeper into the forest

[cain-speaks]

❣ 𝘾𝙍𝙐𝙎𝙃 ❣ || Wukong x Reader Oneshot

» crush (ethel cain) « 0:21 ─〇───── 3:20

╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝❀╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗ AUTHOR'S NOTE ╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤╝ ➤ One day I'll decide how I wanna format shit lmao. ➤ This is a oneshot. ➤ This is romantic. ➤ Reader is gender neutral (except for one use of "maiden" in reference to you). ➤ This oneshot includes Dragonhead/Triad!Wukong, who is apart of the Triad AU belonging to @skittlescripts! ➤ This oneshot in based off @dumplingsjinson's 4th unrequited-but-not-actually-unrequited-love prompt!! I originally had it here but decided to delete it incase you'd like to go into this kinda blind lol. ➤ If this is dumb I'm sorry I haven't had a genuine crush since like 2nd grade /gen. Also romance is NOT my strongsuit despite how much I read LMAO. ➤ TRIGGER WARNINGS include profanity, denial of feelings, avoidance, lying, self-deprecation, angst, and crying. ➤ Word count: 4,300

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

❝ Camo jacket, robbing corner stores; hard odds to beat when you're on all fours .❞

You didn't want this.

You didn't want this.

It started off innocently enough—a blush when you caught the Great Sage's eye, a bit of a tremble to your voice or your knees when his hand brushed yours, squealing into your pillows when he gave you gifts. Embarrassing reactions, yes, but not surprising. Afterall, whole gods have found themselves swooning for the Monkey King even if they've a snowball's chance in hell at actually gaining his affections—what chance did your mortal self stand against the demon's wicked charm? But surely your little... celebrity crush didn't mean anything significant.

Except it did.

You barely ever had crushes growing up, much less attractions so passionate you could call them love. But with Wukong, it came far too easily. You loved the way he spoke, the way he held himself, the way he managed to create a community of loyal allies despite his many enemies. But then you also loved the simple things—his real laugh, the one that made him clutch his stomach and cackle until tears were dripping from his eyes; the way his tail swayed like a dog's and curled into a heart when he was excited; the way he smelt of peaches and flowers, as if he was a whole world just for you to—

No!

No, no, no!

This is how the greatest friendships crashed and burned. An insistent crush and a hopeful heart and a two-timing brain poisoning you with sweet what-ifs and flowery dreams is all it takes for you to make one irreversible, permanent step; for you to pour your heart out only to hear we can still be friends! and watch him drift away.

Well, not you. You weren't going to risk breaking your heart nor your and Wukong's friendship over a crush, no matter how serious. So after many sleepless nights of brainstorming (and daydreaming... goddamnit, brain!), you finally devised a plan to squash your feelings for the Monkey King.

1.) Create distance physically.

You tap your fingers against your thigh anxiously, fighting the urge to scratch angry red blotches into the skin while you wait for Wukong to pick up your call. You thought this method would be easiest for enacting Step 1, hoping Wukong and Macaque wouldn't be able to pick out any lies over the phone, but with how long it's taking him to answer, maybe it'd be easier to avoid him the hard way—

"Hey, peaches!" Wukong's cheery voice greets over the line, making you huff in relief. "What's up? You're not calling to ask if you can come up, right? Because you know I've told you you can just come, riiighttt?"

Your heart swoons ridiculously, and you have to aggressively remind yourself that hanging out with Wukong is the exact opposite of what you want to achieve.

"Yessss, I remember," you force out in a nasally, cracking voice that you pray sounds convincing. "But no, that's not why I'm calling."

"Oh, peaches, are you sick?" Wukong asks worriedly, and you can feel his furrowed eyebrows through the phone.

"No," you snark, and then you force out some rough-sounding coughs, grimacing at the way your throat stings. "This happens every year. Sometime near spring I get super sick for like a month—might be the pollen or something, I dunno."

"I never noticed," Wukong replies softly. "I'm sorry, peaches. I woulda helped you before if I'd realized."

Your heart flips again and you lean away from the phone to form a silent scream before returning. "It's—cough—fine. I'm a big girl, a little springtime bug isn't going to kill me. But it is gonna keep me in my house for a few weeks."

"In that case, why don't I let Macaque handle things for a bit and come over—"

"No!" You snap out, your hand immediately smacking over your mouth at the outburst. Fuck! You think, mind racing to recover from your fumble. You let out a series of coughs as you think, then lick your lips. "S-Sorry... while it means a lot that you'd do that for me, when I get like this... it's just easier to handle it alone. I don't really have the energy to be around people or have them around me."

You cross your fingers, your opposite hand gripping your clothes in a white-knuckle grip as a few beats of silence pass. God, let him believe me so I can hang up—

"Alright, peaches," Wukong replies softly, and you have to lean back so he won't hear the relieved huff of air you let out. You're so busy rejoicing you nearly miss what he says next. "But I'm still going to drop food off to you, alright?" Seeming to sense a coming argument from you, he adds, "I'll just drop it off at your door and send you a message."

You sigh, a small smile forcing it's way on to your face despite the situation still not being as perfect as you'd hoped for. "Guess I can't stop you, sunshine."

"Nope!" Wukong laughs, popping the p. "Get well soon! Who knows what mischief I'll be up to without my angel to keep me on the path of grace?" He cooes with a subtle purr to his words. A wild blush blooms on your face, burning your ear tips as you soak in what he said.

"You're supposed to be able to do that on your own, Great Sage," you croak out, burying your flushed face in your unused hand even though the cheeky monkey isn't here to see it.

"What's the fun in that?" Wukong snickers. Then his voice softens, squeezing your heart. "But seriously, take care of yourself, peaches. If you need space, that's fine, but if you need help, ask. There's nothing you could do that would chase me away."

What he says is sweet, so sweet, and dream-like. His words make you think of a fairytale, with you a fair maiden and him a brave, persistent, dragon-slaying knight.

But life's not a fairytale, and things won't go your way just because you wish on a star.

"Will do, Wuks," you say quietly. "Bye."

"Bye, peaches."

Beep-beep.

Step 1... achieved.

2.) Create distance emotionally.

You couldn't just get rid of your crush (well, you probably could, but that'd entail some magical mumbo jumbo you're not quite desperate enough for yet), but maybe you could weaken it by limiting how much exposure you had to Wukong. Hard, considering how popular he was, but surely not impossible!

So, to start off easy, you got rid of your merch. You were able to sell most of it online, but the more stuff you got rid of, the more... upset you felt. Which made sense, sure—it was stuff you loved, of course, and if you hadn't fallen in love with one of your best friends, you'd never part with it—, but your thoughts felt... insane. You found yourself wondering if people would take care of it, if they'd love it and find the same joy in it that you did.

The idea of someone doing anything less made your skin crawl, and for a few brief moments, you considered doing full deep dives on buyers to make sure the merch was going to a good home. Then you reasoned you sounded absolutely obnoxious, like some creepy fangirl and not a close friend of Sun Wukong, and gave the rest away without any further hesitance.

Goddamn, did it sting though.

True to his word, Wukong stopped by your house once every few days with food and medicine. At first, you were worried he'd try to talk to you or ask to come in, but the only way you even knew he'd been there was when he alerted you with a message. You were grateful for it, but words couldn't describe the relief you had that he left no gifts in the bags.

If he had, that might have set you right back to square one.

Your house felt... empty without Wukong's memorabilia, but you chopped it up to your distaste for change. Obviously the nearly crippling discomfort in your own home was because of the now-barren walls (no way it was because you'd just given away dozens of priceless items...), so you bought some pretty posters of bands, artists, and games you liked and hung them on the wall. It wasn't the same, but you supposed that within time, it'd become your new normal.

You decided to ignore the way that settled on your body like gloomy fog.

Now... for the harder part.

Aside from merch, Wukong had gotten you plenty of personal items. Clothes, jewelry, perfumes, cooking utensils you'd been eyeing, plushies, that sort of thing. You knew just by looking at it that it was expensive, probably things that would land you in debt for life if you'd bought it yourself, and rare, too. Likely some one-of-a-kind stuff, knowing Wukong.

You spent three nights despairing over what to do with them. Giving them away to the masses felt disrespectful to say the least, and with the way your heart shrieked, you decided to listen. Throwing them out didn't feel much better, neither did burying them (yeah... you were thinking of everything)... but you couldn't keep them. No, no, no, it'd just encourage your stupid crush if you caved and kept anything, especially the personal stuff!

So you did the only thing you could think of: give it to your family.

It still didn't feel great either way, but at least you knew they were being cared for. And if Wukong happened to ask for any of it back, it'd be easy to retrieve.

You expect to feel relieved at having found a solution, but it only fills you with dread.

All that's left are the notes.

You keep them in a pretty box in your desk. It's a deep red covered in bright splashes of color meant to resemble fireworks, with bright iron hinges on the back so it could open and close. It's perfectly pristine without so much a speck of dust upon it, its well-cared-for appearance taunting you as you lift it out of its drawer and sit on your bed.

You know you shouldn't look at them, but it's not like it'll change anything—you already have them memorized by heart, anyway.

Dear (name), "Sunshine", huh? Can't say it reflects much of who I am as an infamous, invincible god, but I'll take it over "simian" anyday! I think I'll call you "peaches" in return. It has a nice ring, doesn't it? Sunshine and peaches. Like two peas in a pod. Anyway. I hope you like the clothes!

You laugh softly as you read the note. This had been after you mistakenly let your unspoken nickname for him slip after one of his meetings, flustering both you and the unprepared Dragonhead. Despite your furious blush and profuse apologies, Wukong had made you explain your reasoning behind the nickname (which was mostly Macaque's fault—damn him and his "sun and moon" bullshit). You were mortified, thinking you'd set your and Wukong's relationship way back, but when he started calling you peaches...

Sunshine stuck, and you two really did become peas in a pod.

You've torn through the whole box of notes by the time you realize there are tears running down your cheeks. When realization hits, you bend over and press your hands to your face, open-mouthed sobs wracking your body.

Why'd it have to be him? You could've fallen hopelessly in love with anyone, and your heart chose him?

Wukong isn't the problem. No, not at all. Next to you, the Monkey King seems wild, volatile, too much. But that's only because you're a, well, mortal, incapable of shining even half as brightly as he does. Wukong's a god, an immortal king, a being who'd felled thousands in mere moments—your best friend deserves someone who could meet him at his level, not force him into some domestic role.

Someone better than you.

The thought sends a sharp wave rocking through your chest, but with it comes some rush of desperation—you don't know if it's to fight for or against something, but it leads you to pluck one of the notes from its place on the bed,

turn it over so you can't see the words,

and fucking shred it.

That night, as you lie amongst the torn pieces of paper, you can't help but feel like a sole survivor among a ruined city.

Step 2 is done.

3.) Find somebody else.

You have to admit, Step 3 was definitely a desperate plan B if nothing else worked, and, well...

Nothing else was working.

Your "sick" month had passed, and you were now three months into cold-turkeying Wukong. You were honestly surprised the Monkey King hadn't broken into your house yet, but based on some demon conflicts you'd seen on the news, you figured he was busy.

But that wasn't the problem. What was the problem was your crush hadn't waned in the slightest! In fact, your attempts to get rid of it had only made you want to run further into Wukong's arms, where you'd be drowned in the scent of peaches and flowers and the feeling of soft fur and a strong body against yours and—

Goddamnit!

Part of you felt... tired; sick of what you perceived as dramatic and begging for a break from the heartache. It whispered to you, questioning how good Wukong was to keep around if he would cut you loose just for a crush—even saying that it'd be good for you! Save you the trouble and put you on the path of healing before it got real bad... whatever that meant.

But the other half of you fought and it fought hard. You wanted Wukong, even if it meant you could only have him as a friend. He made you feel good and you'd die before giving that up—that was why you'd started this whole mess in the first place!

Besides. You were a mortal, temporary and simple. And adaptable and well-aged as he was, Wukong was still a several-millennium old god. Rules, unspoken or otherwise, were bound to look different for various relationships, and as far as you were concerned, falling head-over-heels, squealing-into-your-pillows and feet-kicking in love with one you called your best friend was written in big red letters right under no.

So you're here at a café (far away from Wukong's headquarters, you made sure), sitting across from... your date.

They're gorgeous. With fawn-colored skin, soft brown eyes, and blonde, orange dipped wavy hair, they make you think of summer, of singing birds and beach days and ice cream in the park. And they're sweet, easily cracking jokes with you and complimenting you without overwhelming you.

But they're not Wukong, and the way you remain acutely aware of that as you share sweet treats with them destroys any hope you had of growing out of this crush.

You're trying to think of ways to let them down gently when you hear the door chime go off. A new customer isn't earth-shattering (it's a public establishment, after all), but a chorus of sharp gasps and your date's frightened stare looking past you makes you turn.

And, god, you wish you hadn't.

Wukong walks into the café calmly, his face unreadable as he scans the booths. You're fairly certain you already know why he's here, but when his eyes meet yours you just know you're fucked.

The café owner bee-lines to Wukong. "G-Great Sage!" They greet, bowing low. "What brings you here?"

Wukong doesn't break eye contact with you. "Nothing to do with you," he answers smoothly before approaching you in long strides.

You can do nothing but watch as he approaches, pinning your tongue between your teeth as you hold the intensity of his stare. Your date, seemingly noticing the tension between you two, reaches out to grasp your hand, but you gently pull away with a shake of your head.

"I'm sorry," you whisper sincerely, sliding enough money for the meal towards them just before Wukong reaches your booth.

The monkey eyes your date, unblinking. If this was any other situation (one where you hadn't avoided him for three months), you'd give him a gentle kick to the leg or something so he'd knock it off. But the situation is too tense, his presence too damning, and you're grateful for the few seconds you get from out beneath the demon's fiery gaze.

"Peaches," he finally murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. "We need to talk."

Fuck.

You get up without a word, placing your purse over your shoulder and heading towards the front door with your eyes on your feet. You can feel everyone's eyes on you—or rather, the two of you, as Wukong walks beside you until you reach the door, which he opens for you. Then he follows you out, staying just far enough behind you that he doesn't step on your heels.

Neither of you speak until you get to a bridge, void of people and surrounded by cherry blossom trees. Wukong stops beside you as you peer over the edge.

"Peaches," he says, his voice still soft. "What's going on?"

Fuck.

You immediately deflect. "How did you find me?"

You hear him suck in a breath.

"How?" You hiss out, glaring up at him.

He stares at you in silence for a moment, then turns on his phone. As he presses a button, your phone vibrates in your hand.

"You tracked my phone?" You ask, blinking owlishly.

"You weren't answering me," replies Wukong simply, pocketing his phone again.

Your face flushes in frustration. "I was out—"

"For three months?"

That makes you go silent. Your phone vibrates again, making the screen light up. You can see Wukong's name in your notifications, but you dare not look to see how many there are, lest it condemn you further.

"You know, I went to your house," Wukong carries on, his voice thickening. "All the stuff I got you is gone."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

"Yeah," you mumble, your gaze falling to the ground.

"Why? Did you not like it?"

You're torn between honesty and further denial. In the end, Wukong speaks before you can make a choice.

"You didn't throw out the notes."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"It took—" his voice chokes out for a second. Your body tenses, your hands turning to white-knuckled fists at your sides. You don't look up. "It took a lot to put them together, surprisingly. Were really dedicated when you tore 'em up, huh?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Did you lie about being sick? Did you... were you just trying to get away from me?"

"It's not like that," you say, rushed, and you know as soon as the words leave your lips that you shouldn't have spoken.

"Then what is it like?" Wukong chokes out in a thick voice, but you still refuse to look him in the eye.

"I... needed alone time," you mumble.

"Why couldn't you say that?" Wukong replies, a bit of sharpness to his tone, and you can't help but feel like you've opened up the floodgates. "Do I make you feel so unsafe that you'll lie to get away from me?"

"Don't assume things about me," you snap hotly, your eyes flickering to his. They glow with a subtle red color, fixated on you, a testament to his growing emotion in the situation. But that's not what gets you.

It's the tears collecting in his eyes.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

"What else am I supposed to do?" He grits out. "You ignored me for three months. You didn't even text back to say if you were still sick, or if you just wanted me to stop contacting you—"

"Wukong, I—" you try, taking a step backward when the monkey flings his arms.

"And you didn't answer MK or Macaque, either!"

"Wukong—"

"You scared the shit out of me, peaches!"

"And I'm sorry for that," you bite out, managing to shut him up for a minute. You gulp, your grip on your purse tightening. "But I had... I have a problem I have to fix—"

"What is it? If you would just tell me I could help!" Wukong exclaims, reaching towards you.

"No!" You shout, twisting away from him. "You can't help, Wukong!"

"You don't know that!"

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

"I do! I do know that!"

"How?! How could—"

"BECAUSE HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA FIX ME LOVING YOU?"

Wukong falls silent. Still. Your hands slap over your mouth.

The two of you stand in silence for what feels like forever. The river feels deathly silent, and not even the wind blows. Finally, you remove your hands.

"I-I mean, I can fix it, don't worry," you say quickly, the words spilling from your lips like water. "T-These feelings are temporary, I promise. They're just, uh, a b-bit more stubborn than I was expecting, y-y'know? But they're nothing serious, I swear! I-I know I've been difficult these past few months, I know, I'm sorry, just, please, Wukong, don't leav—"

"They're what?" is all Wukong utters, his stare burning through you.

You startle for a second, hands dropping to your chest. "T-They're temporary," you repeat. "Not serious, I swear. Nothing has to change."

Wukong doesn't reply at first. Then:

"What if I want them to be serious?"

Your heart nearly stops in your chest at the force of your surprise. "What?" is all you can get out, staring owlishly at the demon.

"I said," he speaks slowly, stepping towards you. "What if I want them to be serious? To be permanent? What if I want you to be head over heels for me, hm?"

You shiver as he stands before you, hands ghosting over your hips.

"What if I want it all to change, peaches?"

Your heart thumps in your chest, your mind desperately trying to make sense of what he's saying.

Surely he's not... he doesn't mean...

"I don't understand," you whisper, your hands hesitantly pressing against his chest.

"Oh, peaches," he cooes softly, leaning in until his forehead rests against your's and all you can see are his eyes.

"Wu—"

"I love you, (name)."

Your breath catches in your throat, your mouth falling open in shock. Your entire body freezes, your thoughts halted as you process his words...

and then your heart soars.

"Me?" You crack out, a blush warming your skin exponentially. It's a bit overwhelming, the mix of love, surprise, and unfiltered relief. So much so that you can't stop the tears from building up in your eyes and slipping out as you stare up at him. "You love me?"

"Of course," Wukong says softly, his fingers reaching up to brush your tears away. "How couldn't I?"

A sob leaves your mouth at the question. "'C-Cause you're... I'm—"

"Simple?" Wukong ventures, frowning at your nod. He huffs, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. "Peaches, you are anything but simple. You're brilliant and talented and witty and a quick-learner. You keep me guessing even now, and I've been around for a while," he soothes sweetly, a breath of laughter to his voice.

You can't help but laugh a little with him, your heart swelling at his compliments. Your hands slide up his chest and his neck, feeling the soft fur slide through your fingers, and settle on his cheeks. You mirror him then, your thumbs petting his cheek bones and brushing away the wetness in his eyes. Another wave of fresh tears overcomes you when he leans into your hands.

"You're the closest thing to perfection I've ever seen," Wukong murmurs emotionally, one of his hands retracting to engulf one of your's. "You're my girl. My peach. My qíng rén."

A sob breaks free of your lips again as you pull Wukong against you, hiding your face in his chest as you cry. The Dragonhead curls around you, as if shielding you from the outside world, which you're thankful for.

Damn. All of this to find out the great Monkey King loves you back? You're not complaining, god no! Despite your tears, your heart is doing tricks, somersaults and great leaps and cartwheels. It's just...

You definitely have some communication skills to work on, you think.

That can wait, though, you think then, your crying finally tapering out. You manage to tilt your head enough to see Wukong's face, the demon smiling down sweetly at you. Your fingers fiddle with his tie for a moment before drifting upwards and holding his face again.

"Peaches," Wukong calls softly, holding your gaze. "What're you thinking?"

You pause before answering. "I... I want to kiss you," you admit, watching the monkey's face turn a red hue similar to your's. "Can I?"

His ears wiggle, his nose twitches, and then he nods, and you can feel his tail wagging by your legs.

The time for picking on his adorable monkey mannerisms will come later, because right now all you're focused on is bringing Wukong's lips to yours and finally knowing how it feels to kiss the Great Sage.

It's done at an awkward angle since Wukong didn't let you go, the both of you straining a bit to meet each other in the middle, and you break away fast, but it's perfect to you. Maybe not how you imagined a requited crush kiss going, but it's your greatest wish come true in spite of that.

"I love you," he breathes.

Your breath catches again, your heart still flipping ecstatically. "Say it again."

Wukong grins, fangs peeking out of his smile. "I love you, qíng rén."

As you bring the Dragonhead into another kiss, you think of one thing.

Maybe fairytales do exist after all.

❝ Good men die too, so I'd rather be with you .❞

[bucknastysbabe]

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Loss of virginity, Criston is champ (who likes to be a bit puppy), Lady Dondarrion is a plus sized queen who doesn’t play around, pnv!sex, begging, set before HOTD, He learns alot that year Lmfao, pwp-ish, this is actually super soft

You stared from a high walkway, your companion next to you. Serena Caron was your closest friend and cousin. She was sent to Blackhaven as a girl. She tilted her head down at the training yard, eyeing a familiar yet changed face.

The newly knighted Ser Criston, the son of Blackhaven’s steward. Your uncle Arlan had knighted him since they returned from the last skirmish over the Boneway. He had grown into his gangly body, a man grown now. The dark haired knight was fearless with a Morningstar.

Serena noted, “He burned two water towers on the Boneway. Ser Criston was knighted soon after. He’s eight and ten now. Quite handsome you think?”

“Very much so. Much more handsome than the boy who stuttered and blushed to his ears when I spoke to him. When Cole was a squire still. Arlan’s ‘cole-black shadow’.” You snickered with Serena, clasping her arm, eyes catching the dark orbs of the steward’s son. You gave a smile and he nodded briskly, returning to training.

Your nightingale giggled, “He had to have gotten his cock wet by now. You know those camp whores flock to knights like flies to shit.”

Scoffing as you traveled down basalt steps, you replied, “Definitely not. He’s still green as the Mistwood. I’d imagine young Cole is like his father Wilhelm, all duty no fun.”

Serena’s dark eyes sparkled as she taunted, “Are you afraid your little childish flight of fancy has turned into a big handsome knight? Can’t moon over the highborn girl when his title can get many a pretty girl.”

Your cousin knew the jealous streak of yours. In your younger years, Criston was the cutest boy in the keep. You’d playfully tease and flirt with him, getting his stutter riled up and face darkened. You still wanted a piece.

You pinched her, snarking, “Oh don’t rile me up, you conniving songbird. He’s green and I can prove it. Make those pretty eyes wet with tears from my cunt alone.” The matter of your maidenhead was pointless— your husband Benjamin Tarly laid dead. Too soon for any seed to take.

Eventually some other lord’s wife would die in childbirth and you’d fill in. You were merely wedded and bedded at the tender age of 16 and now approached 22. The heir of Harvest Hall’s wife was rumored to have difficult births. Marcher to marcher, Selmy’s were not bad.

Whatever. You’d seduce this handsome knight and make him whine like a pretty maiden, doleful eyes begging you for relief. Serena interrupted your lustful thoughts and laughed, “Alright. If I’m correct, you get to brush my hair for a month.”

You sighed in annoyance regarding Serena’s thick curls.

“If I’m correct, you have to finally ask my brother for a dance,” you stated with a sniff.

Serena sputtered and blushed, slapping your shoulder. The Caron lady hissed, “Oh you witch! Beron thinks I’m a silly little girl.” Those two were so oblivious the Vulture King could spy their chemistry from Dorne. You shooed off your best friend.

“I’m off to seduce a maiden, wish me luck!”

She cursed you with a laugh, turning to her quarters.

Criston sat lower at the table for dinner, moved up above the castle guard and lowborn workers, bastards. Knighted now, he still retained a solemn disposition. There was fire underneath, not any soldier took initiative like he did near the horrid lands of House Wyl. Ambition lay underneath his puppy-ish face, baby fat all gone. Striking, with those deep eyes and tousled curls.

Wilhelm seemed to be preening, he boldly claimed his son would easily find his way to glory. Just needed some tourneys to get his name and skill out there. Criston gave a shy smile, sculpted lips curling up, tan skin darkening a shade.

You sipped on wonderfully bitter wine, eyeing him shamelessly. Serena snickered from your side. The young knight met your gaze and held it, brows furrowing in confusion. Placing the goblet down on the dark wood of the table, you licked your wine-stained lips, tossing your hair.

Criston averted his gaze, suddenly finding his supper very interesting. Shy little pup. You murmured, “Green. Green as the Queen’s dress.” Serena shrugged, “A highborn lady of the house he’s sworn to is much more intimidating than a whore.”

Supper was finished, servants coming to clear the plates. Abruptly standing up, you left to wait in a dark corner, eyes peeled for his fine frame. Ser Criston was clad in the familiar faded red of his small house. Annoyed as others filtered out, Arlan had cornered the object of your desire with your father.

Likely talking about horseshit and the upcoming tourney in Ashford. You waited and waited until they split, passing you by. Your Lord Father questioned, “What are you doing dear? Skulking like a ghost.”

Feigning innocence and batting wide eyes you simpered, casting a look to Ser Criston, “I simply wished to ask our valiant new knight about his adventures!” Arlan grinned and pushed the lad forward, “Go ahead, he’s too damn humble. Night my lovely niece.”

“Thank you nuncle, night to you.”

They strode off and Criston seemed like a fish out of water, eyes wide with uncertainty. He furrowed those dark brows again and asked, “What would you like to know about?” You hummed, “Walk with me and tell me all about it, before you get carted off again, Blackhaven’s new wonder!”

He gently took your arm and the pair of you strode around the basalt stones of Blackhaven. He seemed to ease up after some conversation, describing the bleak circumstances of the lands. You shuddered at the descriptions of the men lost and mutilated as a warning.

He asked a couple questions of his own, how your were holding up. What marriage offers may lay on the horizon. Chivalrous talk, but he seemed to be genuinely interested in the banal affairs of a Lord’s daughter. It warmed your heart some, your late husband was more concerned with hunting around Horn Hill.

You stopped the knight, conveniently at the doors to your chambers. He looked at them, back to you, and back to the door. Criston stuttered, “O-oh uh- it seems our walk has come to an e-end.” You smiled in a feline manner, placed a hand on his chest, felt his rapidly beating heart.

He inhaled sharply, unsure, murmuring nervously, “Lady Dondarrion, T-Tarly, wh-what’s going on here? This is unseemly for me.”

You shrugged, “Dondarrion. My maidenhead is gone and I desire you,” plastering your body to his you purred, “Since coming back on that black gelding looking like a maiden’s fantasy.”

He made a soft noise, eyelids fluttering, hands clenched at his sides. You murmured into his ear, so close your lips grazed the shell, the poor thing shivering, “If you desire to have me, the offer is standing now. Take it or leave it, Ser Criston.”

His hands wrapped around your waist, the pair of your stepping backwards into the door, lips meeting feverishly. He’d had some experience kissing, pretty lips easily moving with yours. He opened the door, more awkward stepping, then the dark haired man sealed the room shut.

His big hands wrapped around your corseted waist, gripping with a delightful force. Need emanated off the man, his broken noises slipping out between increasingly wet kisses. Your nimble fingers began to unbutton his doublet, exposing a pale undershirt and his lightly haired chest. He had a gorgeous golden chain upon tanned skin.

You pulled back, Criston softly whining and chasing your lips. He panted as you purred, “I’m a big girl sweet Criston, can you take it?” He nodded eagerly, seeking to get back to lapping your plush lips. Obviously he didn’t care of your curvy body, soft places that bothered you. Your mother passed down that.

Serena’s slim frame and busty chest oft drew the attention of most. You weren’t frumpy by any means, just thicker of waist and plumper thighs and ass, an overlarge bust you tried to bind down. Criston’s fuzzy brain seemed to catch up with him, praising, “You are beautiful, no amount of extra flesh is deterring me.”

You began to unbutton his breeches and he paused, indicating you to turn around. Thankfully the heat from the fire kept the room warm. You moved your hair aside as Criston’s hands undid your jewelry, carefully placing them on the nearest surface.

There was a stagnant pause. Criston’s hands hovering on the top button of your dress. You had already moved your hair, what was the hold up? Then it hit you, the green boy had no clue on how to undress a lady. Which granted, was a complicated ordeal.

“Unbutton that gold one,” you instructed.

He did so, pushing the dress down to reveal the next layer. The stiff corset, verdingal and bum roll. You untied the latter two yourself and teased, “Never seen a lady’s undergarments Cole?” He whispered, fingers faltering on the laces of the corset, “No, not of a highborn.”

The fire crackled as he released the garment, you breathing a sigh of relief, breasts and waist free of the restrictive garment. Only your thin shift remained, Criston making a weak noise as he jerked up the linen, groaning again at your soft frame.

It was your turn to be abashed, it had been a bit since anything but a primal rut in the dark at a tourney or feast from a visiting lord. He breathed, “Gods, oh, my lady.” You turned gently, unlacing his own breeches, tented by his cock. The knight’s thighs trembled, nervous hands roving your plush hips and ass.

You looked up at his doleful eyes, wide and needy. He’d bitten his lip bloody while you had been turned around. You asked, “Have you bedded a lady before?” He choked on an answer, gasping as you pumped his gorgeous prick.

He strained out, “No, fuck, fuck, my lady, I’ll be good for you, please.”

You thumbed around the tip, his mouth now fallen open.

“You’ll be good for me? Fuck your lord’s daughter, it’s almost your duty to be good. It’s okay, you’re a stud, I’ll let you eat my cunt if you blow early.” Criston made the sluttiest little whimper of your name, begging again, “Oh please, please.”

“Please what?”

He mournfully whimpered, “Pleeeease.”

You’d rendered the darling of Blackhaven to mush, begging for a treat like a sweet little hound, not even aware of what he was begging for. You let go of his leaky cock, leading him to the bed, pushing the tanned man down with a smirk. Your own cunt was aching, the power trip intoxicating.

Criston’s sweet face looked so innocent, panting heavily, hair already a sweaty mess. You straddled strong thighs, hands sliding up his lean torso. You asked sweetly, hands retreating to hold your breasts, “Do you want to touch them sweet knight? They’re so sore.”

He nodded, eyes growing teary with need. Criston warbled, “Yes, yes, may I?”

You nodded in assent, throwing your head back with a smile and throaty moan. Criston’s calloused hands felt good on the tender flesh, squeezing and experimentally thumbing your peaked nipples. The man groaned in pleasure, gasping out, “You’re so soft, feels good.”

You leaned over his frame, flesh to flesh gently coming together. Your paler skin against his tanned. His thighs trembled, mouth hanging open again as your body laid atop his stiff prick. You caressed a lightly stubbled cheek, smiling, “You’re just the sweetest thing, Ser Criston.”

He blushed, face screwing up when you laid kisses along his jaw and pulsing neck, nipping here and there. At the same time you rutted your swollen slick folds against him, sighing in pleasure. His big hands groped at your ass, voice strained, “Fuh-fuck me, fuck me please, oh gods m’lady, I’ll do anything, it- it hurts I swear it.”

Kissing his trembling lips, you cooed, “I’ve got you, relax, deep breaths sweetheart.” He nodded, frantic hands stilling, Criston’s staccato breath winding down a bit. Reaching under your body, you nestled the blunt tip of his cock against your sopping entrance. Cole cried out softly, hands clenching back down into your plush hips.’

He was doing his best to keep his breathing in line, exhaling sharply from his nose. You slowly sat onto the thick member, eyes fluttering from the feeling of fullness, the familiar stretch of your walls. You pressed your forehead to his cheek, hands planted on his muscled chest.

Criston seemed to be holding on for dear life, fingertips digging into you, leaving sweet bruises to cherish later. His cock twitched and throbbed, the knight babbling, “I, I, I, can’t m’lady oh seven hells!” You stroked his curls and shushed his frantic whining.

“I know, feels so good, just hold on, it’ll pass sweet boy.”

His teary eyes gazed at you intensely, nodding, you coddling him through the intense new sensations. Stroking back a sweaty piece of hair you asked, “Better sweet boy? Such a pretty pup with a pretty cock. Want me to ride you now?”

Criston managed a weak moan of ‘yes’, hips already twitching upwards. You began to raise your hips, riding his thick cock in slow movements. His back arched a bit, planting his feet down to thrust into your wet pussy. You praised, “Yesss, yes, that’s it!”

Soon the slow rolls sped up with each collision of your ass to his lean hips. What had once looked like gentle lovemaking had turned into fucking— loud, lurid, sloppy. Your mouth mashed against his, the pair of you whining and carrying on accompanied by the sound of your cunt being pounded.

Criston warbled, “So good so good, my lady, gods!” You nibbled on his lips, angling your hips to graze your sensitive bud against his body. The knight’s noises were getting more frequent. He thrust harder, hitting that good spot, you involuntarily tightening around him with a cry. You watched as the man stiffened with a whimper, eyes going wide, cock swelling up.

You immediately pulled up and off his cock, Criston too lost in the throes of his sudden orgasm to register the loss of your warm cunt. In a frenzy you ground yourself against his body, cumming as his seed spurted against your back and ass. He moaned dazedly, eyes watching you get off, rasping, “On me, my lady, on me, beautiful. Shall I get down on my knees and lap at you?”

His utter adoration and sweet voice, big hands at your sides accompanied the heightening sensitivity to your bundle, you grunting and moaning deeply, grabbing a handful of dark curls. The image of the pretty knight with a collar between your legs sent you over the edge with a raspy keen. Slick covered his lower belly coarse curls, Criston seeking out your lips desperately.

He shuddered underneath you, cute little ‘thank you’ leaving his lips. You rolled off of him, uncaring of the seed dirtying the bed. Criston immediately pulled you into his frame, tucking a stubbled chin into your neck. You rubbed his arm around your belly and hummed, “Not bad for your first time. I can teach you many a thing before off your pretty ass goes to tourneys and I get sent to Harvest Hall.”

“I would quite enjoy that,” came his soft voice.

Ser Criston Cole always sought out the banners of House Selmy during Royal tourneys later on. She was beautiful as ever, holding a babe and nodding at him with a dazzling smile. He’d always be fond of his times in Blackhaven, especially with her.

[mogwaei]

Solas appreciation? (as prompted by the compassionate Solas post which also that)

The snark and the rebllious side (I will never get rid of the halamshiral hat. Let the old fart have some fun)

When he talks back to someone? Love that.

SOLAS APPRECIATION PARTY!!!!

The Helm of Drasca!! was such a brilliant move (kudos to the devs for that too). And I'll never get over the moment with Low-Approval that he just lays out his whole plan because he knows you won't take him seriously. The tone he gets when he equates the Wardens to "a fair maiden chasing a butterfly off a cliff"?! Oh man, and for a real good glimpse at the Rebel Wolf, all his banter with Vivienne is delicious.

The writing for low-approval Solas is so bloody good and underrated when compared to the romanced/friend version. It's been a long time since I played, but from what I recall, Low-Approval is a bit more emotional/expressive? RIGHT, CARRIED AWAY AGAIN - you're SO VALID ANON. 💚

bonus: smug little grin after bringing an Ass-quisitor to their knees skjfhjkf

[fizzingwizard]

Her real name is the Snark Maiden

"You're an ass" !!!

[switchbladedreamz]

Sharing is Caring, Harrington

Pairing: Steddie x reader smut

Summary: Steve is jealous you're tutoring Eddie for summer college courses, deep down does he feel more for the metalhead?

Requested? Nah I'm on a writing high from TTP

Warnings: 🔞light smut, established relationship with Steve and Reader, college au, slapping (once), mommy and daddy kink, blowjob, gay, straight, use of pet names and dom/sub themes.

I don't remember when I started this but heyy I just finished finals so I'll have some time to crank out some fic this summer🥳

Minors dni

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

"I just don't get why you have to tutor him is all I'm sayin, babe" "and I don't get why you have a problem with it, didn't you save his life last summer or something? Look it's the summer before his freshman year of college and he needs help what's the big deal?" I had signed on to be a tutor at the local community college's summer classes. Lo and behold Eddie Munson. Munson was among a crowd of mixed in students from other towns and sometimes a state over, taking summer classes Hawkins Community College; go Tigers!

"Babe if you're afraid of the sexual tension between Eddie and I and us being the only hot goth and only hot metalhead in a 50 mile radius then I guess you better come with and make sure we don't fuck on a pile of Iron Maiden cassettes." I bite back, the snark leaving my voice when Steve's pupils went black. I smirked. "You little horndog! You're just upset because you want to watch us fuck, don't you!?" I accuse. The silence pregnant with tension between us. "Get in the fucking car, Harrington". I sigh exasperated, if only he came to me with this instead of bitching about it for a week then finally letting the truth out. "are you mad at me?" Steve asked, his lanky posture suddenly small in the passenger seat. Taken aback by Steve's more submissive side showing, I'm sure to be extra soft. "No baby, not at all. Look at me." I smile as his eyes reach mine. "I just wish that you would've come to me with your thoughts in lieu of complaining for a week straight. But no need to dwell on it now, it's fixed and over with and we're headed to the Munson's". A goofy smile overtook the sad smile that was on his face.

Tears for Fears played softly as we pulled into the gravel driveway connected to all the other driveways. I parked my hearse next to Munson's van, the neighbors that were outside on the nice sunny day were glaring daggers. Conformists, what're you gonna do. Walking up the steps, Metallica could be heard and it was drownibg out the knocks. Or so I thought, a minute later and smoke is spilling through the door as it's ripped open. A shirtless, dripping Eddie ushers us inside. It's then we see only a towel is around his waist "Welcome, kind of caught me at an awkeard moment here. I don't usually let people see me without my hair done" he jokes. He clears his throat as i alone laugh. Eddie turns to leave- "wait!" Steve interrupts. His face is beet red, he's been thinking about it. "We-uhm. Well. Oh. Huh. We, (Y/n/n) and I, we were. We- ya see we had-" "Good God spit it out Harrington it's freezing in here" Eddie complains, his nipples hard. I lick my lips. His eyes flit between us, wordlessly he spins around and motions with two fingers in a "come hither" fashion to beckon us after him. Steve gulps then looks to me for permission, poor thing is nervous. I lace our fingers together and take the lead as usual.

"sit at the top of the bed Harrington." Eddie offers to him, gesturing. Resecuring his towel, his leans over his music collection and picks an album. Then his rolling tray, his grinder, lunchbox he keeps his weed in, and finally his papers. Sitting on his bed, Steve watched his skilled fingers as he rolls two joints. "How'd you learn to do that anyway?" Steve asked. "My friend Rick, Refer Rick. Taught me everything I know, of course I have picked stuff up from JV before too." "Junior Varsity?" Steve asks, eyebrows knotted in confusion. "juvie" I whisper to him. Eddie just chuckles, "damn all the blood rush from your head to your dick Harrington? I didn't take you for an airhead" the metalhead teases. "Edds play nice or we'll leave." I warn, no serious inflection in my tone. The boys know by now when to listen.

"lick it for me" Eddie's outstretched arm in front of me, offering the soon-to-be joint to Steve's lips sideways. "w-what? Yeah sure". Unsure of his actions, he grabs the two ends, pink tongue coming between his soft lips to activate the glue. "Good boy" Eddie whispers.

Steve watched intently when Eddie smokes. You'd think he'd never been high before. But I know. He's watching his lips, his fingers, when his tongue comes to lick his lips before taking a hit. Steve's watching Eddie's hand on my thigh too. Halfway through the joint, "so like...can I ask?" Eddie speaks, intentionally vague. "Hehehe ask what?" Steve giggles. "What's the deal between you two?". Shock settled over Steve's features, as if he never expected the question to be asked. "Well she's my girlfriend, I love her". "okay, hey that's great. No offense meant, really. I'm just...confused".

"Well what Steve and I have is special, what we do somehow brings us closer together. We don't have an open relationship, we just sleep with mutually agreed upon people.".

Eddie takes in the information, let's it swirl ariund then settle. "Can I ask who else you've slept with together?" He voice strained as he holds smoke in, passing the joint to me. "Billy Hargrove, Chief Hopper, Robyn, well that was just me but Steve watched, you last summer at camp Steve watched from the treeline.". Steve shifts on the bed at the mention of past lovers, he's been oddly silent. "I knew I heard something. Why me again?" "Truth be told, I think Steve might have a crush on you Edds" I giggle like a school girl. "all week he's been complaining about me tutoring you for the summer but the truth is he wanted to have some fun.". Silence still from the third party, he's clutching to one of Eddie's pillows for dear life.

"Steve?" My hand rubs his arm, he lurches forward and I couldn't have been paid a million dollars to try to predict what happens next.

Steve kisses Eddie. I sit still. Shock, weed, and adrenaline running through me. The kiss is erotic in a way. Eddie pulls away, the pair panting for breath, "wow. okay..that just happened.". "I'm sorry" Steve rushes out to apologize. Before more anxiety can spill from him Eddie kisses him again, softer and less rushed this time. "What's your mommy dom think about all this?" Eddie whispers in Steve's ear. The latter whimpers and looks to me. I nod, giving him my permission. Eddie's hand on my thigh moves up and past the hem of my shorts, directly toward the button and zipper he undoes hastily. I get off the bed and strip completely, the pair of men following suite.

Eddie and Steve are inseparable, tongue and teeth clashing, hands a flying mess to grab onto the other. As if they're the only ones left on this planet and if they don't hold on they'll never find each other again. "Ed's please" Steve whimpers quietly as the boy's tongue is licking up his neck. Biting. Sucking. A sharp slap sounds through the small room and Eddie's head falls back, his bottom lip caught between his pearly whites. "You are so gonna pay for that Harrington. Get on your knees". Steve's eyes are wide, excitement and a tinge of fear for the unknown outcome. Steve slides off the bed, I throw a pillow to him for his knees.

Eddie pushes his hands through Steve's hair and guides him down. "You ever sucked cock before baby boy?" Ed chides condescendingly. I smirk, knowing. It's almost as if all the color drains from Eddie's face as Steve takes him all the way down his throat, nostrils being tickled by short brown curls. "Fuuuuuck". Steve swirls his tongue around Eddie's head, sucking as he pulls off with a pop and goes back down. "Oooh, oh fuck! Yes, baby" Eddie encourages Steve as one of his hands starts to massage Eddie's sack. Eddie pulls Steve's head off, panting. "Don't-" a strangled sigh leaves him "I don't want to finish just yet" Steve smiles proudly.

I lay at the head of the bed on my side, a watching position. Steve now lays beside me, an everbright wet smile gleaming on his wet face. The smile gets impossibly brighter and wider as Eddie straddles Steve's thighs. Eddie wraps his fingers around the other boy's wrists and pins them beside his head, his face mere inches from the other's. "You're going to listen to what mommy and daddy tell you to do aren't you baby boy?" Steve nods. "Good. You're given permission to speak freely. Now be a good boy and ask mommy to sit on your face." Steve's head lolls to the side, our eyes locking. "Actually, for right now I want to watch the two of you".

Eddie shrugs and rolls with it. I watch as their lips meet again. I trail my fingertips over my submissive's thigh lightly, the tickling sensation causing goosebumps to rise on the hairy flesh. Up, up, up, they wander. A small shudder escapes Stevie's lips as my fingertips graze along the biggest vein on his cock.

A devilish grin on Eddie's face as he walks to me on his knees. A choked moan comes from Steve as my hand gently strokes him. Within the moment Eddie's tongue is inside my throat with his left hand on the outside of my throat, applying small pressure. "Where's that naughty little bitch I remember?" Eddie's tone is full of arrogance and challenge. I smirk and slap him. His hand at my throat pushes my head down to the pillows while the other smooths the burning red handprint. Pulling me up halfway by my throat he kisses. "There she is.."

[rosietrace]

「 Mystery Maiden 」

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Central Character ; 『 Ernest Shelley, the Unnamed Gentleman 』 | 『 Lizzie Shelley, Wife of the Undead 』

Others ; Lizabeta | Viktor

Mentioned ; Lilith Winchester

Pairing(s) ; Ernest & Lizzie

【 This is both a short story important to the central character's story; All Ocs belong to their respective owners and will be credited at the end. 】

Synopsis: “It was like his heart finally learned to beat.”

Warning(s): potentially ooc, may or may not align with the current ideas for Ernest's backstory, kinda angsty but its generally really sweet at the end?, Shelley couple shenanigans!!

[ Apologies for any out of character moments ]

⊱────────────────────⊰

⊱────────────────────⊰

Ernest sensed it; he didn't know what it was, but it felt as though there was something in between the distant howling of winds.

He wasn't one for parties— or any of the noble gatherings his parents would fuss for him and his older brothers to attend, for that matter. Not when he'd much prefer the isolation of the music room. Of the calming, comforting quiet.

But tonight, he'd had a plan in mind. Originally, Ernest intended not to attend.

After the annulment of his engagement with lady Lilith Winchester, Ernest's parents never failed to give him anything but looks of disappointment at the dinner tables— tonight was meant to be his ‘redemption’, of sorts.

However Ernest wasn't attending the gathering for a chance at his parents' forgiveness for his so-called impertinence. He'd come, not for his parents or for a chance at scrambling to fix up his already displeasing reputation after the engagement to Lilith. But for a girl.

A girl, whom Ernest currently stared at from a safe distance. Longing, yearning for her to meet his gaze in any way that might've mattered, yet not being rewarded with anything in return.

Ernest's lips curled, his jaw tense. The girl, beautiful and incomparable with skin that called to mind the paleness of the moon, was with another person. A gentleman who Ernest knew, even if he'd never seen the man in his life, was a far better match for her than he ever could be.

He wanted to curse himself for not pursuing her more boldly. For being so cowardly that he wanted to court her openly right at the last minute, only to come to the revelation that she'd accepted the courtship of another distinguished aristocrat.

“Are you quite all right?” Lizabeta was kind to Ernest, far more than his second elder brother could ever be. Ernest wasn't close with his sister-in-law, but the point remained that she was more pleasant to focus his attention on when compared to the sight not too far from him.

“I'm fine,” Ernest said. He'd tried to sound convincing enough for Lizabeta to believe such an obvious little white lie.

He was unsuccessful. “You very clearly aren't.” Lizabeta’s brows furrowed, her forehead creased.

“I can assure you, I'm fine..”

“Has anyone ever told you that you've never had an affinity for lying, Ernest?”

He suddenly began to start seeing why his parents chose her to be Viktor’s wife in the first place. “Well—”

“Worry not about Ernest, Liza, dear.”

Viktor's presence was anything but comforting; compared to Lizabeta's kind words and gentle tone, Ernest's elder brother — hubristic genius he was — was anything but.

Viktor's arm wrapped around the waist of Ernest's sister-in-law, whose expression softened whilst gazing into Viktor's eyes.

Far too good, Ernest believed, his arms tucked behind his back until he decided he looked too militaristic in that stance.

Far too good for my brother.

Lizabeta had snark. Wit. Next to another young lady from a family of high-rank, she was more compatible with Viktor than any of the ‘options’ Ernest's parents had bestowed upon his older brother.

That being said, outside of snark and a sharp wit, Lizabeta was — in Ernest's most humble opinion — far too good for his brother.

Viktor was brilliant. Ernest had heard those words so many times in was emblazoned into his skull, at this point.

But what Viktor didn't have, was compassion. And while most people would say that Lizabeta balanced him out in that regard, Ernest believed otherwise.

In the back of his mind, Ernest hoped, in this life or maybe the next, that Lizabeta would find someone… better. Someone who'd treat her more kindly than Viktor was ever capable of— someone deserving of all the love Lizabeta had in spades.

Although right now, what Ernest wanted wasn't to think about what if. Not about Lizabeta, about Viktor, not even for himself.

Turning to his brother and his wife, the former being so enthralled in his own scientific brainrot that he didn't notice the loving looks of yearning from the latter, and spoke.

“Is there a music room, nearby?” he tried to make the question sound as natural as an unexpected query could've been.

Viktor's brow arched. “Music room?” His tone held warning. “You aren't planning to abandon tonight's festivities to write another symphony, are you?”

Lizabeta gave her miserably neglectful husband a pointed look. Ernest pitied her; tonight was meant to be her chance to bond with Viktor. Not her opportunity to look even more ‘soft-hearted’ by helping him.

Viktor was no honorable man, but he kept his lips sealed once his gaze went to Lizabeta. When she turned to Ernest, the pointedness of her wry expression had softened.

“It's in the next room over.” The music room, she meant. Ernest couldn't fight the small tug of his lips.

He didn't say much of anything else to his sister-in-law, or to his older brother, for that matter. Instead, Ernest just strode off, brushing past her and her newly appointed fiancé.

⊱───────────────⊰

Not many enjoyed silence. Many, Ernest's family included, found it benign. Haunting. Lonely.

Ernest saw little loneliness in the silence of what was practically an abandoned music room; the room lacked light, little to no candelabras or blown out crystal chandeliers adding any fixtures of glimmering lights.

Shadow cast over the room in the same vein as the night sky shadowed over the realms. Cobwebs were already in the corners of the room, on the unused instruments; desolate, haunted, forgotten.

Yet even so, Ernest found more company in the out-of-tune piano in the room than the crowded space of the ballroom. If he had wished, he would've stayed in that room for hours; his subconscious leaving this world and moving on to one that brought him happiness.

Until he heard the sounds of footsteps drawing near.

With a sharp hitch of his breath, Ernest stood up almost instantaneously, knocking over the stool he'd been sitting on.

He looked around every corner of the room, until he saw a shadow of a person — a woman — standing in front of the door he'd used to get to the music room; it was a convenience that said room was so close to the ballroom.

At first it was hard to see what kind of person the woman appeared to be; she had long, unkept hair; her eyes, Ernest couldn't quite make out, but her dress…

It felt like a fashion from another era entirely. Whether the dress, and the woman wearing it, were from the past, this present, or the unforeseeable future— Ernest didn't know.

He tensed up, taking a slight step back. “I…”

“Uh, sorry.” The woman's accent was different from his. And the rest of the aristocracy, for that matter. “I heard the sound of a piano and… wanted to know what that was all about.. That's all.”

“.. Ah.” Ernest's eyes went to the piano that stood at his side. It was out-of-tune, forgotten with as much lack of care as the rest of the room.

And here he was; now standing before a mysterious young maiden from what looked to be a remnant of another time; their only source of light being the shining silhouette of the ballroom behind those stained glass doors.

⊱───────────────⊰

“Are you okay?” Lizzie Shelley asked.

She had no idea how she even got into a situation where she time travelled. Some part of her wanted to believe it was an elaborately realistic dream— but the tricks of pinching oneself yielded very little results.

The man in front of her was handsome, that much was a fact she could acknowledge. In fact, the man reminded her of the bust in the cemetery she frequented.

Maybe he is, Lizzie began to consider. Or maybe he isn't.

For now, however, she'd mentally named him ‘Ernest’; the name belonging to the tomb at which the bust sat above.

Finally, ‘Ernest’ answered. “I'm fine.”

He said I'm fine in the same way Lizzie tried to say the same thing; a matter of effort put into saying two simple words that were opposite to how they truly felt.

“You look nervous.” Lizzie stated the obvious. “Is it… because of me?”

He hesitated. It looked like a habit of his, hesitating. “... Would it be too rude of me to say so?”

The answer to that question was easy. She gave a shake of her head. “No… I wouldn't think so..”

Ernest hummed. God, this entire conversation felt awkward as all hell…

Looking around, Lizzie tried — and I mean, tried — to not make things as awkward as they already were.

“... This place looks abandoned,” stating the obvious was the easiest choice.

Ernest nodded. “No one comes into this room anymore.”

“Why?”

“That, I am uncertain…”

“Perhaps,” Ernest's eyes softened as he took in every detail of the desolate music room; devoid of any light say for the glass doors leading to the next room over. “It is because no one truly values silence, anymore.”

Lizzie's head cocked to the side. “Silence.” She repeated.

“Silence,” Ernest's fingers lined the dusty keys of the piano, delicately brushing over each black and white key. “It isn't as treasured as it used to be. Frankly, I am under the belief that silence was never mortality’s specialty.”

Lizzie's hands clasped together, tucked behind her back as she took a small step closer. She thought of her stepmother; of her step siblings. “There's always going to be someone wanting to make noise. Even when it totally isn't…”

Their eyes met. “Necessary.” Was what they both said.

“... And your thoughts on the quiet?” Ernest took one small step as well, mimicking Lizzie's mannerisms.

Lizzie looked up at the cobwebbed chandelier; a marvel that should've been the centerpiece of heavenly light for this room, forced to submit to darkness because nothing but shadows could accept them.

“I like it,” was her honest answer, a small smile creeping up her face. “Not everyone likes being alone but… I like it. It's comforting once you find the beauty in it.”

From there, she only seemed to go on a tangent. And Ernest let her— even when he didn't understand the usage of words such as “totally” and the needless usage of “like” in certain sentences.

But then… “There's this cemetery I visit a lot.” Lizzie's smile only seemed to widen, then soften up, just from thinking of the cemetery. Of the tomb she'd labeled her favorite because of the face of the sculpted bust.

“Cemetery?” Ernest looked like the hairs on his arms shot up at the mention of the word. He looked slightly shaken.

Lizzie responded, “My family sometimes takes care of a cemetery in our town. It's mostly me that visits it, though. It's like… my safe space.”

“But-” Ernest wasn't quite sure how to say this without potentially offending her. “... Isn't that a little unorthodox? Do you not face judgment?”

Everyday, Lizzie answered in her head. My stepmom looks at me, and it's like she's deciding on whether she should be judge, jury, or executioner. Sometimes she's all three.

But she didn't breathe a word of any of that to the mystery man in front of her. Some part of Lizzie asked her if just speaking, looking, and breathing near this man could change her present timeline.

“I guess.” She gave a small shrug, trying to act like the question he'd asked didn't mean much of anything to her.

Ernest frowned. He was somewhat dissatisfied with the answer he'd been given; but he knew, better than most others in the aristocracy, that silence was golden. Treasured better than any secret.

Silence was what he'd given her in return.

Lizzie saw him turn his back on her. For a moment, she began to believe he was going to leave; to convince himself that the entire conversation they just had, the ongoing staring contests— they were but a hallucination.

Then he turned his head to face her, extending a hand that drew her in like a tug of a string attached to a puppet's limb.

“Shall we?” Ernest asked.

“Shall we what?” Lizzie replied with a question of her own.

“Promenade.” Ernest paused. “... A walk. In the garden, I mean.”

⊱───────────────⊰

An unchaperoned promenade, especially at a time in the dead of night, was nothing short of a disaster waiting to happen in the eyes of the ton.

A man and a woman, alone in an area where no one could find them… and if ever they were caught — especially in close proximity to one another…

An immediate engagement, Ernest thought with a slight shudder. to avoid scandal.

It didn't matter if they didn't do anything intimate. Just being with a person of the opposite sex, unchaperoned, was the equivalent to wanting a death sentence.

He didn't know if the girl beside him knew of that rule within the bounds of the aristocracy. He didn't even know who the girl even was.

“... So,” Ernest looked up at the moonlit sky. There was conversation to be had, right?

“So…” the girl looked off to the side. The pair were too awkward to truly engage in conversation— the silence was deafening. The kind that drove any socialite to insanity.

But… also comforting, in its own right.

Ernest had no way of knowing who this girl even was. And yet, her mere presence felt more welcoming than the sea of glances several nobles would give him on a regular basis.

“Forgive me, if I'm overstepping..” Ernest took a second shot at sparking conversation. “... Your family. What is it like?”

Some part of Ernest hoped that this girl — whoever she was — had a better domestic life than he did.

Unfortunately… “Not the best,” she said. Now it was her turn to look up at the moon, smiling up at it like it was some long lost friend.

That smile seemed to falter as she began to elaborate.

“My dad remarried after my mom died. My stepmom, she's… difficult.” Every word felt like they gave her tiny puncture wounds to the heart. “I'm not close with my step siblings… we don't really have the same interests.”

The more he learned about her, the more connected he felt to her. It was pitiable, Ernest wanted to believe. But also… relieving. Strange thing, human emotions.

“What about you?” asked the girl, directing the subject to him instead of her; like all she told him was everything she was okay with talking about.

Ernest understood the silent plea, and responded accordingly. “Not much different from your own familial situation…” a beat. “... except, in my case, I've no stepparent, nor step siblings.”

“Third-born sons can be… disappointing. One perfect brother, one brilliant one…” Ernest thought about the little boy he'd once been; the little boy who cried himself to sleep because he couldn't understand why his parents hated him so much.

“... And then there was me.” Ordinary. Unimpressive. Disgraceful.

Lizzie looked at him with slightly raised eyebrows. She stared at him like that for what felt like a small eternity.

Lizzie didn't have much knowledge in the art of comforting a person. Let alone consoling them for whatever they've been through; she never got that from her stepmother, and she knew she wasn't much help whenever her step siblings start breaking down into tears for God knows what.

Still. She made an effort for Ernest— he deserved that much. In some ways, they were like two sides of the same coin.

Lizzie gently bumped her shoulder against Ernest's. It made her stifle a laugh when she saw his startled reaction.

Ernest looked at her again… differently, this time. He didn't know why, but he was beginning to feel different around her. Just not in the negative aspect.

His eyes softened at her gaze, a smile crossing his face as the pair looked at one another; their only other company the moonlit sky.

Beautiful, Ernest thought. Not at the marvel that was the darkness of the night, but at her. At Lizzie.

Beautiful. Incomparable.

Like looking at her made his heart learn to beat.

⊱───────────────────⊰

【 Taglist / Credits 】

↳ In order of OC appearances/mentions

Ernest Shelley — Me 😈

Lizzie Shelley — @starry-night-rose

Lizabeta Lenore | Viktor — Also Me 😈

Lilith Winchester — also @/starry-night-rose

| @jasdiary | @authoruio | @fumikomiyasaki | @sakuramidnight15 | @nem0-nee | @twsted-princess | @hallowed-delights / @terrovaniadorm | @absolutelyobsessedkiya / @twistedsongstressofstarz | @valse-a-mille-temps |

[pigeonwit]

i was raised on little light [WIP, game of thrones au]

David thought he knew cold.

The bards herald the ten-year summer Westeros has been relishing, singing of lush flowers and festivals, seas of grass and skies clear enough to see the heavens, glowing knights and nymphish, petaled maidens; all the joys that bloom from the first pleasant bud of heat. But David hails from Deepwood, and even ten years of summer can’t melt away the ice embedded in the bones of the North.

There were no flowers in the North, save for the hardy shrubs and spiked thistles that pierced their way through the ice-crusted mud. The grass is not a lush sea of green waving rhythmically in the cool breeze; the fields are stubby and frigid, the grass too short and prickling for even the notion of relaxation, and the wild grasses beyond only grow sharper with every inch. That said, for all the cold’s bitterness, it can be unifying. Heat was the people’s power, after all, the warmth at the heart of a crowd; being alone in a storm was a far surer fate than having a warm body to crawl in next to. Every day, the people of Deepwood Motte would stand shoulder to shoulder, stacking bricks into a night-house for a newly wedded couple, pulling tough root vegetables from frozen earth, tanning hides upon a post, all for the hope that when they go to sleep, it will be in houses that keep out the cold, with a belly full of stew, swaddled in a blanket of warm wolf-skin – and that when they wake, they will stack more bricks, pull more crops, tan more hides, all to leave for the younger ones still sleeping in their cots.

The Wall, however, is a different beast. It stands alone, one long scar on a field of pale flesh, braced against the edge of the world in stone fury. There are no trees this far north, no shrub nor thistle brave enough to escape the bone-deep snow. There are no crops strong enough to withstand the earth’s sharp teeth.

The Wall is a monster. There should be no need for the myths of what lies beyond it, the bedtime stories of grumpkins and snarks spiriting children from their beds – one glance at the Wall would turn that fear into something indescribable. In one structure lies more ice than all in Westeros have ever experienced in their lifetimes combined, growing with steadily forward with every flake. t’s impossible to tell when looking up, the incline being so subtle when compared to the sheer breadth of it, but when looking down? The ground below disappears as the ice spans outwards, ten castles wide at the base, leaving any who chance a glance below with the sickening reminder that you stand upon a spire built by the will of the Gods to separate you from the world beyond them. Gods who see vertigo as a question that they are all too willing to answer.

Most importantly, the Wall is cold. It is cold in a way that redefines all sensation. It is cold that seeps through your skin, sets in your muscles and lays its roots all the way down to the marrow, and there is no amount of warmth that may thaw it. It is cold that lies beyond pain, beyond numbness, but to the place beyond both, where your body becomes a foreign shell, hardened and toughened into something designed only to keep moving, to keep breathing, to survive at all costs. It is cold without the company, shivering without another body to press that fleeting warmth into – and somehow, that’s the thing that sticks. Not the snow freezing his lashes or the ice crusting along his skin, but the gnawing emptiness in the pit of his stomach. The hunger that can’t be sated. The want – no, the need, the desperate, carnal need-

“Jacobs.”

David bites down on the inside of his cloak, and forces himself to breath like a man.

[kckt88]

Wedding & Consummation.

Summary:

The day of Aemond and Vaera's wedding has arrived.

Warning(s): Nerves, Threats of Violence, Witnessed Bedding Ceremony, Kissing, Swearing, Fingering, First Time, P in V sex.

Word Count: 2830.

Author Note: A companion piece to Arrival(s)/A Time for Grief/The Gullet & Harrenhal and the Rivers, but can be read as a one-shot.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Kings Landing was a buzz with activity. The guests were arriving, the preparations had been made and it was finally here. The day Vaera and Aemond would stand together in the great sept and get married.

Vaera was so nervous that she decided to skip breakfast, as she wasn’t sure that she could actually stomach food.

After bathing, Vaera’s maids began to help her get ready. Her hair was brushed and twisted into elegant braids and the necklace that Aemond had gifted her just the day before was fastened around her neck. The silver chain was decorated with a single sapphire, much like the one that Aemond wore.

It had been his last courtship gift to her. Aemond had designed the necklace as a symbol of their love and devotion to one another.

In turn Vaera had two identical silver wedding rings designed.

It was not customary for a man to wear a wedding ring, but Aemond had accepted her request with a smile and vowed that once she placed it on his finger, he was never taking it off.

Now it was time for the dress. The gown had been designed by Vaera, Helaena and Alicent.

It had a fitted sleeveless bodice with a modest neckline. At Vaera’s request some of the stitching around the waist had been made to look like small butterflies, which of course was in honour of her soon to be good sister Helaena.

There was even a small emblem of the seven stitched into the dress to symbolise Queen Alicent. Never did Vaera think she would become close to Aemond’s mother. But since her arrival in the Red Keep, Alicent had been a great source of comfort and support, which pleased Aemond greatly.

As soon as the gown had been buttoned and her maiden cloak tied, there was a soft knock at the door.

It was her mother.

“You look beautiful” gasped Rhaenyra as she looked her daughter up and down.

“Thank you” muttered Vaera avoiding her mothers gaze.

“I’ve come to escort you to the sept and Daemon will walk you down the aisle”.

“What happened to Lord Corlys?” asked Vaera.

“Daemon is your father sweet girl. It’s only fair that he’s the one who gives you away”.

“So, why then do I wear a Velaryon cloak. Should it not be Targaryen?” retorted Vaera.

“Your husband will give you his” snarked Rhaenyra.

The subject of Vaera’s father was a source of contention between mother and daughter as despite her many attempts Vaera would not acknowledge Daemon as her true father or even grant him the title. Which is why she had originally asked for Corlys to walk her down the aisle, he wasn’t Laenor, but he was the closest thing to him.

“I want Corlys to give me away” said Vaera sternly.

“Vaera please-“ begged Rhaenyra.

“Fine. Daemon can walk me halfway and then Corlys will walk me the rest of the way”.

Rhaenyra nodded; she knew this was the only compromise that her daughter would offer.

“Right, shall we get going. It’s almost time” said Rhaenyra brightly.

The sept was decorated beautifully, but it all paled in comparison to Aemond who was stood beside the High Septon.

He was elegantly dressed, his black tunic decorated with silver dragons and his Targaryen cloak tied loosely around his shoulders. His long hair tied back in it’s usual half up, half down style.

The horns signalled the beginning of the ceremony and begrudgingly Vaera took Daemon’s arm.

“You look beautiful my daughter” muttered Daemon.

Vaera ignored Daemon’s half-hearted compliment and shifted her focus to Lord Corlys who was waiting patiently. The sea snake smiled as she approached.

Vaera snatched her arm away from Daemon and took her grandsire’s outstretched hand.

Ignoring Daemon’s pointed glare, Corlys led Vaera towards Aemond who smiled widely as he waited for her.

“Thank you for escorting the bride my Lord. If you would be so kind as to wait for the Princess to remove her maiden cloak” said the Septon.

Vaera undid the ties of her Velaryon cloak and handed it to Lord Corlys who bowed respectfully to the Septon and resumed his seat next to Rhaenys.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection” said the Septon loudly.

Aemond removed the cloak bearing the colours of house Targaryen and draped it around Vaera’s shoulders.

Aemond then took Vaera’s hand and smiled as the Septon tied their hands together by a ribbon.

“In the sight of the seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity. Now you may look upon one another and say these vows together” exclaimed the Septon.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days” said Vaera smiling, her eyes never leaving Aemond.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am hers and she is mine from this day until the end of my days” declared Aemond loudly.

“Now you may exchange your rings” said the Septon as he removed the ribbon from their entwined hands.

“Thank you for agreeing to this” whispered Vaera as she slid the silver band onto Aemond’s finger.

“Anything for you Issa dōna ābrazȳrys” muttered Aemond as he slid a matching silver band onto Vaera’s finger (My sweet wife).

“The vows have been spoken and the rings exchanged. You may kiss your bride”.

Aemond leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Vaera’s lips. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and deepen the kiss, but he had to restrain himself.

At least for now.

The celebration after their wedding was in full swing.

King Viserys was sat at the head of the table, with a smiling Alicent and Otto by his side. Rhaenyra and Daemon were sat slightly off to the side, their heads together, the pair were deep in conversation as they kept casting furtive glances at Vaera and Aemond.

Jace and Luke, were huddled together next to Baela and Rhaena. Aegon was enjoying the great selection of wine and Helaena was sat smiling as she spoke to Daeron.

Vaera sat next to Aemond near the head of the table, smiling as many Lords and ladies came up to offer their congratulations and bestow gifts upon them, while also enjoying the food of their feast. Borros Baratheon, Jeyne Arryn, and one that seemed to linger, Dalton Greyjoy.

The young lord was similar in age to both Vaera and Aemond.

"Many good wishes too you, Princess Vaera. I must admit Princess, the tales of your other worldly beauty have not been exaggerated. Your skin is as beautiful and pale as the snows of The North and your eyes are more pretty than any purple flower that I have ever laid eyes on".

Vaera shifted uncomfortably in her seat and Aemond scowled.

"Thank you," nodded Vaera politely. 

A sudden loud roar spooked everyone as Cannibal flew over the Red Keep.

“Ahh yes, your Cannibal. I’ve heard he’s an impressive beast”.

“My Cannibal is not a beast” huffed Vaera.

“His ferocious nature is well known. How is it that you managed to claim such a creature?”

“I wouldn’t expect a Greyjoy to understand even the basic fundamentals of how a Targaryen claims a dragon” retorted Aemond.

“If you ever find yourself bored of Kings Landing, you can always visit the Iron Islands. I’m sure I can find something else for you to ride” replied Dalton smirking.

Aemond slammed his fist into the table as he rose sharply from his seat.

“You dare speak like that to my wife” snarled Aemond.

“Valzȳrys” whispered Vaera (Husband).

“Remove this foul-mouthed cur from my sight” ordered Aemond.

“I would have thought the one eyed Prince could-“

SMACK!

Suddenly Dalton Greyjoy crumpled to the ground, clutching his bleeding nose.

“Never disrespect my husband again” snarled Vaera.

“Y-You broke my nose” exclaimed Dalton.

“Insult my husband like that again and a broken nose will be the least of your worries”.

“Vaera” gasped Aemond, his single amethyst eye wide in surprise.

“A kraken is no match for a dragon” exclaimed Vaera suddenly becoming aware of everyone staring at her.

“Quite right good sister. More wine I think” declared Aegon loudly as he handed Vaera a full goblet of wine and staggered away to get more.

“That was impressive” muttered Aemond as he took the goblet of wine from Vaera’s hand and then led her towards the dancefloor.

“I thought you hated dancing?” asked Vaera.

“I loathe it, but for you sweet wife I will partake just this once” replied Aemond.

Vaera let out a soft giggle as Aemond placed his hand on her waist and led her in a dance, pausing every so often at the sounds of applause that followed the newly married couple.

Soon the music died down as the King slowly rose to his feet.

“I wish to toast my son Prince Aemond and my granddaughter Princess Vaera on their marriage. May it be long and fruitful” said Viserys loudly as he shakily raised his cup.

“Thank you, Your Grace” said Vaera as she bowed respectfully.

“I think it’s time that we retired our chambers” muttered Aemond.

“-Yes brother. Time for the bedding” exclaimed Aegon eagerly.

“Touch my wife and I’ll chop off your hands” snarled Aemond.

This was the part of the wedding that made Vaera the most nervous, it wasn’t the act of consummation that bothered her, it was the fact that they had to perform their duty in front of a witness.

As Aemond had refused a traditional bedding ceremony, this was considered a fair compromise. Proof of their consummation and Vaera’s purity was needed.

So, it was decided that maester Orwyle would act as a witness, and there would also be witnesses outside of the bed chamber in the form of Alicent, Rhaenyra, Otto, and Daemon.

Aegon had dropped various hints at wanting to be a witness to the consummation, but he was promptly told to ‘fuck off’ by Aemond. Who was in no mood to entertain his drunken brother’s jokes and depraved leering.

As there was no traditional bedding ceremony. Vaera and Aemond were able to walk to their shared chambers without a fuss. Their witnesses followed silently, obviously not wanting to talk to one another.

“Right, we shall remain outside but maester Orwyle will be in the room with you to ensure that the marriage has been properly consummated” said Alicent firmly.

Aemond took Vaera by the hand and led her into their chambers. He figured it was for the best that he ignored Orwyle and try to pretend that he wasn’t even there.

Even as the maester took a seat in the corner of the room, Aemond had a sudden flare of anger at his lack of instance that the consummation should have been entirely private with the sheets being presented as proof.

But of course, he has his half sister to thank for that, her past behaviours were unbecoming for a Princess of the realm and the heir to the Iron Throne.

Birthing bastards had cast a cloud of suspicion over Vaera and Aemond hated Rhaenyra for that.

“Would you help me with the gown, husband?” asked Vaera as she turned from him and swept her hair away from her back to reveal a great number of fiddly buttons and laces.

“Of course,” replied Aemond as he reached forward and began undoing his wife’s wedding gown.

Soon she was stood in nothing but a thin shift and Aemond felt his heart quicken in his chest at the sight of her nipples through the sheer fabric.

This was the moment he’d been waiting for, and he moved with all the grace of a green boy getting his wick wet for the first time.

He was no maid, Aegon had seen to that when he’d dragged him to the street of silk on his thirteenth name day. But Vaera was no paid whore, that would whisper sweet lies into his ear and make him feel dirty.

She was his wife, and he was determined to love and cherish her until the end of his days.

Aemond began pulling off his own clothes as Vaera climbed into the bed. Her cheeks tinged pink as she glanced nervously at Orwyle who had remained silent.

“Focus on me. Not him” said Aemond as he finished undressing himself and climbed into the bed.

“I-I’m ready husband. Make me yours” whispered Vaera as she pulled off her shift and discarded it on the floor.

Vaera laid down and smiled shyly as Aemond gazed at her naked body.

“Issa gevie ābrazȳrys” whispered Aemond as he slowly reached out and ran his fingers over Vaera’s breasts (My beautiful wife).

Goosebumps erupted over Vaera’s skin as Aemonds hand began to move lower.

“I-I need to prepare you” whispered Aemond.

“P-prepare me?” whispered Vaera.

“I don’t want to hurt you” replied Aemond as he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Vaera’s lips.

Vaera gasped when she felt Aemond’s fingers rubbing her folds.

“O-Oh Aemond” exclaimed Vaera as her husband slipped a finger inside her.

Aemond buried his face in Vaera’s neck and began peppering kisses along her smooth skin as he added another finger to prepare her as best he could.

But in the back of his mind, he was still aware of the maester sitting in the corner of the room and the other witnesses waiting outside the door.

Aemond removed his fingers and then laid between his wife’s open legs, supporting his weight on his left arm as he reached down and took his hard cock in his hand and placed the tip of it against his wife’s slick entrance.

Vaera shut her eyes tight and took a deep breath as Aemond sheathed himself within her.

"A-Aemond" exclaimed Vaera wincing in pain.

Vaera’s cunny choked his cock so tight that he needed a few seconds to adjust, making him terribly aware that he was not going to last for too long.

Aemond’s cock twitched and throbbed with need, and he released a shuddered breath while Vaera sighed in relief. 

“The pain will ease,” rasped Aemond, waiting for his wife to adjust.

After a few moments, Vaera nodded slowly.

Aemond began to move with a slow, deep grinding that soon enough turned the stinging pain into pleasure.

“Gods be good,” panted Vaera, gripping Aemond’s shoulders.

“Fuck. You were made for me, my wife. You were made to fit my cock in this sweet cunt of yours.” breathed Aemond as he increased the pace of this thrusts.

“A-Aemond. Please.” exclaimed Vaera her nails digging into his shoulders.

“I-I’m going to spill my seed in you” moaned Aemond his hips slapping against hers.

“P-Please I want it. I want you” gasped Vaera.

“I can’t wait to see you swell with my babe” exclaimed Aemond as his thrusts staggered. He was close. So close.

“Yes. Give it to me” moaned Vaera.

Aemond pushed into the hilt for one last time and groaned loudly as his cock throbbed and he spilled his seed.

“Y-You didn’t peak” muttered Aemond.

“There’s always next time” replied Vaera as she ran her fingers through Aemond’s knotted silver hair.

“Hm” said Aemond as he gently pulled his softened cock from his wife.

Aemond pulled the sheet over Vaera and then moved to sit on the edge of the bed, his eye drawn to the red ring of Vaera’s maidens blood that now stained his cock.

“Are you well Princess. Do you need me to examine you?” asked maester Orwyle.

“No I’m-“ muttered Vaera.

“-The marriage has been consummated. Get out” snapped Aemond.

“My prince” exclaimed maester Orwyle.

“Are you deaf? I said out” retorted Aemond as he sprang from the bed and snatched up his robe.

Maester Orwyle bowed respectfully before he hastily left the room.

“The marriage has been consummated. Prince Aemond has done his duty. The sheets will be presented-” said maester Orwyle as the door swiftly opened and Aemond appeared wearing a loosely tied robe.

“-If you don’t mind, I would like to have some privacy with my wife” said Aemond firmly.

“Of course,” said Alicent quietly.

“Does Vaera need-“ muttered Rhaenyra.

“-My wife is fine. As I said we would like some privacy” retorted Aemond as he firmly shut the door.

After taking a deep breath, Aemond walked over to his desk and poured himself a generous cup of wine.

After downing the wine in one gulp, Aemond poured another cup and offered it too Vaera who shook her head.

“I-Is everything ok?” asked Vaera.

“I should be asking you that” muttered Aemond as he yanked off his eyepatch and threw it on the desk.

It was their duty, but Aemond couldn’t help but feel a tinge of embarrassment that he’d selfishly sought to his own needs and spilled his seed, yet his sweet wife hadn’t reached her peak during their coupling.

Having a maester watching you as you consummated your marriage wasn’t exactly ideal but there was no one watching now.

Aemond quickly discarded his robe and climbed back onto the bed.

“-A-Aemond. What?” asked Vaera.

“That was for duty. Now this is for us. I wish to have you again my sweet wife” replied Aemond as he surged forward and pressed a kiss to his wife’s lips.

[rikakore]

tales of knights and maidens, grumpkins and snarks

[queenphanessa]

Columbina Headcanons

Note: I've been meaning to do this for a long time, but I'm finally starting to post my headcanons! Note I'm posting this before Columbina has been introduced so a lot of this might be OOC.

~ ✧ I think her real name would be "Seraphine" or "Seraphina". ~ ✧ My initial theory about Columbina was that she was originally from Mondstadt and she had an Anemo Vision/Delusion because when I saw her winged headpiece, I immediately thought of Venti/Barbatos. ~ ✧ Although I still think she has Anemo powers and is probably a catalyst user.

~ ✧ But now, I'm pretty sure Columbina is a survivor of the Seelie race.

~ ✧ In volume 3 of The Drunkard's Tale, it tells of a former wolf king who meets a young maiden who sings a song of the Seelie.

~ ✧ At first, it seems like the maiden is honoring the Seelie by singing their song, but then she said "our fate", suggesting that she is a Seelie, one that was able to maintain her form and I'm pretty sure that this maiden is Columbina. ~ ✧ Not to mention the pattern on Columbina's mask and headband are similar in appearance to the pattern on the bottom of a Seelie Court players guide Seelie to. ~ ✧ It's also worth mentioning that the Seelie are described as singing songs of grief and the maiden in the Drunkard's Tale sang a song mourning the fate of the Seelie. ~ ✧And when we first see Columbina, she's singing a mourning song at Signora's funeral.

~ ✧ Because of this, I like to think that Columbina only likes singing sad songs or only sings at sorrowful events like funerals. ~ ✧ The Goddess of Flowers, Nabu Malikata, is heavily implied to be a survivor of the Seelie race (if not outright confirmed since the Aranara say that a survivor of the Seelie race was friends with Greater Lord Rukkhadevata and King Deshret and she's the only one who fits that description) and her lore states that she was "cast aside by the heavens" along with the rest of her kind, who were punished for something and were stripped of their minds, becoming husks of their former selves. ~ ✧ If Columbina is a Seelie, that would explain what she has against the gods and why she would join the Fatui and aid the Tsaritsa in bringing down Celestia.

~ ✧ Since Scaramouche/Wanderer described Columbina as "oblivious and innocent at any given time, and unconcerned and unfeeling in any given situation", I think she would probably have a teasing, "gives no fucks" attitude no matter the situation and people would have a hard time telling if she's being actively malicious or not. ~ ✧ I feel like back before her race fell, she didn't care much for humanity and questioned why the Seelie had to share their knowledge and guidance with them.

~ ✧ She was ignorant of the ways of humanity and didn't care to learn about them, refusing to take them seriously and looking down on them the way one would condescend to children. ~ ✧ However, Columbina probably grew to be fond of Zandik/Dottore. She might look down on humans, buuuuut she was probably intrigued by the heretical human who wished to create an enhanced being that could surpass the gods.

~ ✧ Very "Fuck everyone else, I respect you." ~ ✧ And Dottore would probably be amused if a godlike being, one from a race renowned for their wisdom, showed interest in his ambitions. ~ ✧ Judging from their brief conversation at the end of the "A Winter Night's Lazzo" teaser, I feel like Columbina and Dottore might have a vitriolic friendship where they snark at each other a lot (innocently or faux innocently on Columbina's part), but they still care for each other. ~ ✧ The Aranara said that the Seelie were cursed at birth to lose their intelligence and form if they ever fell in love with humans so I think Columbina wouldn't be interested in relationships with them, adding to her detachment to humanity. ~ ✧ If Teyvat ever had their own smartphone equivalent, Columbina would spam the hell out of emojis and this symbol "~". ~ ✧ I don't think Columbina is blind, I think she has black or magenta eyes and any normal person would be terrified to look into them.