#tried to convince myself NOT to do wings

[ineffableigh]

Me: Oh it'd be so cool to do a classical portrait of Aziraphale in the style of royal portraits of Louis XV!

Me, later: ...what have I done.

[aemondsbabe]

Gevie

summary: you finally agree to go for a ride on sunfyre and your betrothed certainly makes it worth your while

pairing: aegon ii targaryen x reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, aegon being sickeningly sweet, oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), breast/nipple play, dirty talk, doin' it on a dragon, gratuitous use of valyrian

word count: 4.5k

a/n: finally proving to myself that i can remain semi-tame with the word count, i bet y'all thought i couldn't do it!! they're fucking around on a dragon. he gets road head, except it's on sunfyre. they're very cute.

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

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A high-pitched yelp rips its way from your throat as you feel Sunfyre move beneath you, stirring up dirt and dust from the floor of the Dragonpit as he beats his wings. Behind you, Aegon laughs, tightening his thighs around yours on the saddle and letting out an excited whoop as the dragon finally pushes off the ground. 

“Seven protect me!” You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut as soon as you see the world fall away beneath you as Sunfyre rises higher and higher into the air. 

“Eglikta, Sunfyre! Sȳz!” Aegon calls out, pulling at the reins on the dragon's saddle as he guides him up and out of the Dragonpit. “You need not be so worried,” he soothes you, his voice loud and clear behind you as he speaks over the air whipping around the two of you, “You are with a highly skilled rider, my lady.” He reminds you sarcastically. (Higher, Sunfyre! Good!)

You gasp loudly as Sunfyre tilts upward, making you lean heavily on Aegon, your back to his chest as the dragon flies higher into the air. “It is not the rider I am worried about!” You call over the rushing wind, not daring to open your eyes as you grasp onto the sturdy leather straps of the saddle, white knuckling the material. 

“Sunfyre is a part of me,” Aegon explains for the thousandth time, smiling as he steadies himself on the saddle, wide eyes flicking in every direction as he scans the skies, “I trust him with my life, and I trust him with you.”

This was a familiar argument, one you’d heard many times before over the previous months as Aegon tried time and time again to convince you to go riding with him; it was one of the first things he’d asked of you as soon as the courtship had been arranged nearly a year ago. 

You’d finally relented, much to the prince’s delight, when news of your marriage was officially announced. “Consider it an early wedding present, your grace,” you’d told him at the time. 

Oh, how you had come to regret those words now that your heart felt like it was in your throat, your hair whipping wildly in the air behind you as Sunfyre climbed ever higher. “M-My love,” you stuttered, trying your damnedest to keep your voice level, “Could we not stay closer to the ground?”

Aegon chuckled, his chest rumbling against your back even through the various layers you both wore to guard yourselves from the cold air. “Bē konīr, gaomagon jāre!” The prince spoke, Sunfyre grumbled beneath you in response. Although you did not understand the command, and certainly not the beast's response, you could feel the bond between your betrothed and his dragon — some invisible current connecting one to the other. (Almost there, keep going!)

“You should trust me more than this!” Aegon laughs, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to the side of your head, “You seemed to have plenty of it the night of the banquet last week,” he began in that brash, cocky tone you’d grown accustomed to, “When you let me shove my head up your dress in the gardens onc—"

“Aegon!” You chided, one hand abandoning the leather straps long enough to playfully swat him on the thigh. 

“What?” He asks, no doubt smirking deviously, “Surely there is no one to overhear us up here!” 

Suddenly, Sunfyre tilts forward, righting you in the saddle once again and making you let out an embarrassing squeal. “Gīda, Sunfyre! Dohaeris!” Some small amount of happiness at recognizing one of the words, dohaeris, manages to cut through the fear you feel, making you let out a small giggle. “Almost there, sweetling,” Aegon smiles, one of his hands abandoning the reins to wind around your waist instead, holding you securely to him, “You’ll love this.” (Calm, Sunfyre! Obey!)

Still squeezing your eyes shut, you nod wordlessly, tightly gripping onto his forearm, your thighs trembling around Sunfyre’s saddle. “Are we up very high?” You ask, your voice sounding small, even to your own ears. 

Aegon chuckles again, eyes scanning the horizon as the golden dragon finally breeches the clouds, “We’re just as high as we need to be, hush.” The vague answer makes you uneasy, but you do feel slightly calmer as you notice a change in the air. It’s calmer now, breezing around you like a soothing song, making your hair flutter about gently rather than whip at your face. It’s quieter too, you cannot even hear birdsong nor the rushing of air anymore, as if the two of you have entered a void. 

“Sȳz, Sunfyre. Gaomagon gīda.” Again, Sunfyre grumbles, his agreement to whatever Aegon commanded vibrating through your body. A moment later, the prince runs a hand through your hair, tenderly brushing it away from your face as he presses another light kiss to your cheek, one arm still holding onto you tightly. “Open your eyes, my love.” He says softly, resting his chin on your shoulder. (Good Sunfyre, keep steady.)

Cautiously, you do as he asks and slowly open your eyes. At first, you cannot see much, blinking to dispel the tears brought on by bright sunlight, but once your eyes finally adjust, you gasp. You can feel your eyes widen to the sight before you, one unlike any you’ve seen before. Aegon had brought you up above the clouds, the dreary grey skies that had once been above you now spread out below you like an endless pale sea. Up here, everything was so bright, slightly pink tinted from the sun, and so stunningly still and calm, the only movement coming from Sunfyre gliding through the air.

“Gods,” you breathe, your grip finally loosening somewhat on Aegon’s arm as you scan the skies before you, “Aegon, it’s…” You trail off, mouth hanging open at a loss for words. 

“Beautiful,” he finishes, though when you turn your head to him, his gaze is already fixed on you, the corners of his lips turned up into a barely there smile. 

You can feel your face heat up at his attention, suddenly all too aware of how much of your bodies are pressed together on the saddle, of how his arm is still wrapped so securely around you. Despite being so far up in the cool atmosphere, you can feel a blush creeping onto your cheeks, your heart beating faster as a pleasant, familiar coil starts spiraling in your stomach – your thighs tightening around the firm leather of the saddle in an attempt to press together. 

“You were right,” you smile contentedly at Aegon over your shoulder, “It is magical up here, my love. And so calm and quiet…” You let your voice trail off as you relax into his chest, his warmth encompassing you as Sunfyre continues gliding above the clouds, his beautiful golden scales gleaming in the early evening sunlight. 

Every once in a while, pockets in the thick cloud floor open up, giving you glimpses of green farmer’s fields, the blue water of lakes, or the dusty browns of the roads that litter Westeros. The pockets seem to zip by as quickly as they come, leaving you unsure of exactly where you are above the kingdoms. “I feel so far away from everything.” You conclude finally, a strange sense of calmness threading its way through the unease that still blankets your belly. 

“Precisely,” Aegon answers, a far-away look taking hold in his dark violet eyes, one you had grown used to seeing over the course of your courtship with the prince.

Now it seemed as if it was your turn to gaze at him instead of the view, letting him have a moment to himself as you admired him, eyes trailing over the gentle slope of his nose, the pout of his pink lips, the alabaster column of his neck. You couldn’t help but squeeze his forearm tighter, trying to ground him you suppose — ironic as it was — to save him from whatever snare he had been trapped in in his mind. 

All at once, whatever melancholy had taken hold of him seems to wash away with a small gasp as he comes back to himself, centering you with a calm smile, though to you it may as well be as dazzling as the sparkle of Sunfyre’s scales.

 “We are indeed far away up here, sweetling,” he drawls, the familiar smooth, cocky cadence back in his voice sending a shiver up your spine, butterflies erupting in your belly. “Away from court, away from guards,” he continues, trailing light kisses down the slope of your neck and onto your shoulder, relishing the way you sigh and go ever more limp against him, “Away from any prying eyes at all, really.” He finishes, raising his eyebrows in sarcastic surprise as he shrugs. 

You can’t help but laugh at his tone, morphing into an uncontained moan as his teeth lightly graze your shoulder, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end as your head tilts back against him. “Up here?” You ask, your voice already breathy.

He chuckles against you, low and dirty, “What better place is there, sweet girl?” He asks, rutting against you atop the saddle, making you gasp as you feel his hard length pressing against the small of your back, “There’s no one up here to stop us, no one to see us…” he husks, pressing wet kisses against your neck as his hand, the one not currently wrapped around you, abandons Sunfyre’s reins, coming instead to press against your breasts – his touch, even through your layers of clothing, making your nipples harden, the coil in your belly winding ever tighter. 

You whine as he touches you, unable to resist him even after all this time. “Aegon, please,” you whimper, gasping as you feel him unbuttoning your overcoat, sending a chill down your spine from the cold air against your skin. You’re unable to find it within yourself to care when you feel his warm hand, encased in a smooth leather glove, encompass your breast, lithe fingers immediately seeking out your nipple and teasing it relentlessly, “Oh, my love!” You gasp, grinding your hips down against the leather of Sunfyre’s saddle. 

He shushes you gently, teeth grazing against the side of your neck once more before you feel his lips curl into a smirk. Slowly, he removes his hand from where it’s nestled beneath your overcoat and dress, chuckling when you whine; quickly, he pulls off one of his riding gloves, tucking it securely into a coat pocket.  “Suck,” he says simply, pressing his fingers against your lips. You do as he says without complaint, running your tongue over the digits before properly sucking at them, moaning unabashedly when he presses them further against your tongue. “Gods,” he groans, voice deep and gravelly, “I love being in your sweet little mouth,” he murmurs, letting you suck contentedly for a moment longer, “Such a good girl, drooling around my fingers.”

His praise makes you moan, garbled around his fingers, as your eyes roll back in your head, your head bobbing as you suck, drool pooling at the corners of your lips as you lathe your tongue over his fingers. 

All too soon, he pulls them away, making you whine at the loss. However, that quickly turns into a loud, punched out moan when he resumes teasing your nipple, your spit instantly cooling in the air, which only serves to make the bud somehow harder. He groans with you as he spreads the slick around your breast, rutting his hard length against you.

“Sweetling,” he begins, a hint of taunting laughter in his voice, “Do you remember what we did during the last hunt? Hm? Hidden away in one of my tents?” 

You whimper, nodding as the memory floods back to you – the two of you sneaking away together during the final night of a large, week long, hunt, leaving everyone else feasting and dancing at the campfires. You were both giggling like children, half-drunk on Dornish wine, when you’d stumbled into one of Aegon’s tents, lips crashing together haphazardly in the dark. It had ended with you on your knees, taking the prince into your mouth as he leaned back against a storage chest, his hands tangled in your hair as your lips and tongue skirted up and down his length. 

The memory still floods you with arousal; it hadn’t been your first time pleasuring Aegon in that way, but it had been by far the most daring. “I have not felt your mouth on me in some time, my love,” he teases, moving you back against his length, still trapped in the confines of his trousers, “And we’re so hidden up here, no one to walk in and catch us, it would be a shame not to use the chance while we have it…”

Despite the circumstances, his offer is tempting; you love bringing him pleasure, love hearing the little gasps and moans he makes escape his lips. “How would we?” you ask, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder, his violet eyes full of desire, “All the way up here, I mean.”

“You trust me?” Aegon asks, placing both of his hands on your hips.

You nod instantly, not even needing to give his question a second of thought, “Of course, you know I do.” You answer truthfully. 

Smiling, he slowly moves his hands until they come to rest at your hips. “Gīda, Sunfyre.  Rȳbagon naejot nyke,” he commands the dragon before once again looking at you. “Okay, my love,” he taps one of your thighs, “Just bring this leg up and over the saddle, yeah? Like on a horse.” (Steady, Sunfyre. Listen to me.)

“Oh, definitely, just like on a horse,” you say sarcastically, an attempt to keep your nervousness at bay, which makes Aegon chuckle behind you. Slowly, you do as he says, leaning back onto him for support as you swing your leg up and over Sunfyre’s massive saddle, coming to sit side-saddle atop the beast. 

“Okay, good,” Aegon smiles, keeping his hands tight on your waist, “Now just turn…” He murmurs in concentration, patiently helping you turn your torso to face him, and sighing happily when you do. “And the other leg,” he commands, steadying you as you bring your opposite leg back over the saddle, “Perfect.” He praises you as you right yourself again, now facing him.

You give yourself a moment to breathe, getting used to facing the opposite direction. As soon as you look at the prince, though, that coil of arousal that was winding itself tight in your belly starts moving once again when you notice his eyes scanning over your chest, a sliver of your skin exposed from where your overcoat remains unbuttoned, your own underneath pulled to the side. 

His eyes meet yours, and he smirks when he notices your own arousal. All at once, the two of you crash together once again – lips colliding together as you moan into each other's mouths, hands grasping onto whatever parts of the prince you can reach; you bite his lip teasingly, making Aegon growl.

“Little minx,” he breathes against your neck as he kisses down your jaw, “Wanting to suck my cock so badly you’d risk life and limb on a dragon.” He teases, smirking when your hands shoot out to undo the ties and buttons at the top of his trousers.

Rolling your eyes, you finally manage to free his length, making him let out a relieved groan. You languidly stroke him for a moment, savoring the broken, choked off moans he breathes into your mouth, the flushed tip of his cock already leaking onto your hand. 

“Gods,” he groans lowly, his hips already fucking up into your hand, “Your mouth, my love, please!” He asks, his eyes squeezed shut.

Smirking, you kiss your way down his jaw before carefully leaning forward, pressing yourself against the firm leather saddle until your face is level with him. You give a quick kiss to the underside of the tip, right where you know a little sensitive ball of nerves lies, before you softly run your tongue over the head; you’re a goner as soon as the salty taste of him hits your tongue, losing yourself in the task as always. With a whimper, you begin bobbing your head up and down along his cock, one of your hands coming up to stroke the small bit at the base that you can’t fit in your mouth. 

One of Aegon’s hands comes up and wraps itself in your hair, pulling it back and away from your face as he grinds up into the heat of your mouth. “Fuck,” he moans, long and low as he tilts his head back, “So good, so good, fuck.” He repeats, already lost in the way you feel, in how dutifully you pleasure him – just like a good little wife should, and he knows you will be the best wife for him.

You close your eyes, head spinning with adrenaline as you continue pleasuring him, the hand at the base of his cock moving lower to cup his stones and gently roll them in your palm, just the way you know he adores. The effect is instantaneous, a punched-out groan wrenching itself from his throat as his abdomen contracts, making him jerk in your hold. You chuckle around him, drool slipping out of the corners of your mouth as you smile around his length, pleased to have reduced him to such a state already. 

The noises he’s making, along with the feel of him in your mouth, hot and heavy on your tongue, make you clench around nothing, whining onto his length, which catches his attention. You hear him chuckle above you, laughter turning to a pleasured hiss when you suck him deeper into your mouth, “Is having my cock in your mouth getting to you, sweetling?” He questions in the same cocky tone you’ve come to know so well, “Making your little bud ache?”

You nod around him as best you can, moaning around him when the hand in your hair clutches the strands tightly, leading you in the exact rhythm he wants as he ruts in and out of your mouth. He lets out a pleased hum, “I’ll take care of you, my love,” he promises, pressing you lower on his length, his eyes rolling back when he feels you spit and gag around him, “Fuck, just as soon as I finish down this pretty throat.”

At that, you redouble your efforts, moaning around his cock as you suck him down eagerly. He starts grumbling in Valyrian under his breath, a sure sign that he’s close, as if the way he was fisting your hair and panting into the cool air wasn’t enough of an indication. Right when he lets out a deep moan of your name, almost sounding in pain, you move the fist around his base faster and press your tongue to the sensitive underside of his head as you suckle on it, one of your hands tugging at his stones in just the right manner. 

“Fuck!” He spits out, his body tensing up as he presses you further down onto his cock, a deep, resonating growl leaving him at the same second that his hot seed spurts directly down your throat as his length pulses and twitches in your grasp. You moan at the familiar taste of him, your eyes slipping shut as you allow him to use your throat, swallowing down the last few drops of his seed while he whispers your name again and again in reverence. 

Finally, his hips stop twitching and the hand in your hair falls limp, allowing you to pull away from him. You sit up, moaning in surprise when he immediately tangles his hands in your hair again and pulls your face to his, uncaring that you’d swallowed down his spend mere seconds before as he bites your lip and tangles your tongue with his. 

You press yourself against him, sighing when you feel the warmth of his chest against yours, his body somehow hot despite the temperature, as if lit from within like Sunfyre. “Such a good wife,” he sighs against your lips, “How have I come to deserve you?”

“We are not yet married!” you laugh, shaking your head as you marvel at him, taking in the way his cheeks are still lightly flushed.

“A moon's time is close enough,” he shrugs, violet eyes gazing at you with adoration, though growing darker when he catches the sliver of your chest still exposed where your coat is open, “Turn back around.” He whispers suddenly, his voice husky. 

You don’t bother questioning him, simply nodding, although his hands are already back on your waist, helping you turn back around on the dragon’s saddle.

“Need to touch you,” he explains anyway, contently humming, low in his chest, when you’re pressed against him once more, “Need to make you feel good – you deserve to feel good.” He babbles, mostly talking to himself as he skirts his hands over your body. “Lenton sir, Sunfyre. Soves!” He commands, grabbing at the reins with his still-gloved hand, coaxing the large beast into a slow, smooth turn, although he still held you tightly to him until the dragon was once again gliding – his huge, rosy wings slicing through the air with practiced ease. (Home now, Sunfyre. Go!)

“Where –”

“Home,” Aegon huffs, fingers desperately tugging open the remaining buttons on your coat, frantically pushing the fabric out of the way as soon as the last one is pulled undone, eager to get his hands on your soft skin.

“But –” You start, only to be cut off as he groans impatiently, practically ripping the skirts of your dress in an effort to push them to the side, exposing your smallclothes.

“We’ll have time, sweetling,” he breathes, pushing a hand into the thin fabric, groaning when he feels how wet your slick folds are, so warm against his skin, “It’s not like it takes me long to bring you pleasure.” You can hear the boastful pride dripping from his low voice as he speaks against the side of your neck, his warm breath sending a shiver up your spine as your back arches against him.

“Oh!” You gasp as you feel his fingers finally touching you, immediately zeroing in on your aching, swollen bud with a practiced ease, sending electricity zipping up your spine. 

“Ooh, someone’s sensitive,” he teases, rubbing tight, wet circles against you as his gloved hand finds its way into your coat again, yanking down the fabric of your dress before he cups your breast, kneading the delicate skin in time with the ministrations to your cunt, “Do you enjoy my fingers, sweetling?”

 You nod, already panting heavily in his grasp, your body going from rigid to pliant as you moan unabashedly in the air, not needing to be mindful of your volume all the way up here – Sunfyre as your only witness seems wholly uninterested. He chuckles against your neck as he bites at the sensitive skin, the small pinpricks of pain only adding to the pleasure radiating from your core. 

You buck up against him as you feel two of his fingers venture lower, prodding at the opening of your slick heat, gathering some of the wetness there before roughly pushing them into you. You grunt out a curse as you feel them enter you completely, Aegon not bothering to tease them into you as he usually does and instead pressing incessantly against that rough spot within you that makes you see stars. 

“Aegon, my love,” you whimper, grinding your hips against his hand, his thumb catching against your bud as his fingers continue tormenting your center, scissoring and curling within you, “I’m–” You cut yourself off, unable to finish a thought with the way he’s handling you.

“I know you’re close,” he grunts, his hands moving frantically against you as you shake against his chest, one hand plucking and pinching at your nipple as the other fucks into your squelching wet heat, “I can feel this lovely cunt squeezing me.”

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck!” You cry in time with the thrusts of his hand, your head tilting back onto his shoulder as you feel your high creeping ever closer, the fire in your belly growing to a blazing, roaring inferno. 

He laughs lowly as he mouths at the spot just below your ear, never tiring of being able to reduce you to such a base state, moaning and writhing in his arms. “Go on, sweetling,” he coaxes you, fingers rubbing up against that rough patch within you ceaselessly as his thumb circles your bud in the same rhythm, “Let yourself have it – you’re so close, let yourself feel good, my good girl, my love.” He begs between love bites, panting against your neck as you fuck yourself against his fingers. 

“Aegon!” You cry, your eyes squeezing shut as your entire body tenses with a sob, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as wave after wave of pleasure crashes into you. Your walls grip desperately at his fingers, coating his hand in your sweet juices as stars explode behind your eyelids, a vicious, loud moan punching out of your chest at the intensity of your high. 

Eventually, the waves begin to subside, leaving you whimpering pathetically against him as he continues gently pleasuring you, helping you ride out your peak for as long as your body will allow. After a moment though, his fingers finally come to a stop when he hears your small whimpers and whines, indicating that his touches are bordering on overstimulating you. 

He coos lovingly, soothing you with soft touches and kisses against your cheek as he licks your spend from the hand that had been fucking you, savoring your taste with drawn out, dirty moans, taking pleasure in the way it made you blush and squirm like you were still the innocent maiden everyone believes you to be. 

“Ñuha gevie ābrazȳrys,” Aegon murmurs after a moment, violet eyes studying you as he peeks from over your shoulder, “Nyke daor umbagon naejot dīnagon ao.” (My beautiful wife, I cannot wait to marry you.)

You don’t know what the words mean but they sound so beautiful coming from his pouty lips that you cannot help the blush that blooms on your cheeks, the sight making him chuckle. 

“Look,” he says, pointing into the distance, “You’ll love this.” 

Following the tip of his finger, you narrow your eyes, not seeing anything for a second. Just as you’re about to inquire as to what exactly you’re supposed to be looking at, you gasp, watching with wide eyes as the tallest tower of the Red Keep emerges from behind a cloud. 

“Seven,” you whisper, watching as the rest of the large fortress is slowly revealed, followed by the large domes of the Dragonpit and the Sept of Baelor, “Oh, Aegon…it’s beautiful.” You whisper, eyes sweeping over the entirety of King’s Landing, from the waves of the shores of Blackwater Bay all the way to small houses of farmers that lie beyond the city walls, all bathed in the golden, pinky lighting of the setting sun. 

“Gevie,” he breathes, gaze entirely fixed on you, on the way you hands grasp his, “Gevie ābrazȳrys.” (Beautiful, beautiful wife)

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[90ekz]

do you think you could write hcs of jean with a softspoken gf? nobody writes for him fr it’s so sad

an! i love jean and this concept anon ! im a soft spoken girl myself so this really hits home 🥹 i hope you enjoy!!

jean as your boyfriend <3

SFW

when you two first started dated, jean was convinced that he hit the lottery. you were everything he ever wanted and he loved a girl that kept to herself.

jean sometimes takes you to wing houses & burger joints and watches with a huge smile as you try to order your food against the chaos of the other people conversing around you. you weren’t the biggest fan of having to yell in public, but you tried your best, and his heart melts everytime.

when you first met him at connie’s house warming party, you bumped into him, spilling the contents of your cup onto his white button up. jean had turned beet red as you stood on your tippy toes to whisper a hurried apology into his ear over the sound of the blaring music, while rushing to go get paper towels.

his favorite thing about you is how attentively you listen. it doesn’t matter what he’s talking about, you’ll be making eye contact and nodding along to whatever he has to say.

gets irritated with you during arguments, because you well… don’t engage. he could be giving a verbal, ten page, double spaced paper about how irritated he is with you, and you’ll just look at him like you’re bored.

“all i’m saying is that you don’t have to get aggressive with me over this. yes, i was at armin’s late and didn’t say anything, but i’ll tell you next time, okay? i’m sorry.” “okay.” “i said sorry, damn! stop yelling!”

you aren’t the biggest fan of confrontation, but he is. connect the dots yourself.

“SHE SAID NO GODDAMN TOMATO!” “it’s fine, i can just take them off—“ “not now, baby. gimme a sec, okay? anyway, FIX HER FUCKING BURGER!”

the two of you communicate so silently that it freaks your friends the hell out. when you want to go home, when you’re tired, when he’s needy, when he’s irritated? easy, simple eye contact will send you or him springing into action to fix the problem.

you may be quiet, but you love to laugh. jean doesn’t think he can think of anything more angelic-sounding than the sound of your genuine laughter, only for him.

jean had to learn how to be more tender when doing daily tasks. he was so used to slamming doors and stomping up stairs that he didn’t remember to adjust that behavior when you moved in.

(the first week you moved in, he’d thrown open the door to your bedroom and felt his chest squeeze as you almost tumbled out of your desk chair. now he puts three gentle taps on every door when he needs to come in.)

physical touch fanatic. end of discussion.

NSFW

lemme tell you, this man takes it to heart when you try to hold in your moans. you’re a little embarrassed with how loud you get, but nothing turns jean on more.

“nuh uh, lemme hear you—need to hear how good i’m making you feel, princess..”

during your first time together, he’d almost cum in his pants at the mere sound of your loud groans bouncing off the walls.

loves when you pull his hair more than anything. he takes it as a sign to go harder, fuck you deeper, and he obliges everytime. his cock throbs harder each time you run your fingers through his loose curls.

about 5.7 inches roughly, but thick. his cock flares as it goes downward; the head being the slimmest part. giving him head is fun, you think.

jean has this weird little fixation with your neck. it doesn’t matter what position he has you in, he’ll have a hand—or his mouth—running across the skin of your throat. backshots? he’s got a hand pressing against your nape to keep you in place. missionary? he’s massaging his thumb over your throat so tenderly that it should be illegal. cowgirl? he’s squeezing the sides of your neck while whispering about how good of a girl you’re being for him. he’s pretty damn weird.

his favorite thing to do is eat you out. you deny it, but your voice shoots up a whole octave when he massages your gspot with his two fingers of choice as he suckles on your swollen clit.

utterly surprised at how much you talk during sex. it almost embarrasses him how much you beg, scream, and whine for him. a mixture of ‘please’s’ and ‘fuck’s being infused in his head for eternity.

“oouu—shit, you’re so fucking loud…”

presses down on your stomach to feel where he is so he can try and go deeper… yeah.

tries to fuck your throat hoarse just to hear your raspy voice for a few hours. you’re such a trooper, just sitting there and taking it for him, even if he laughs at you after.

“babe, i’m so sorry—hahaha!” “this isn’t funny, i sound like t-pain!” “I LIKE THE BARRRTENDERRR—ouch, im sorry, i said i’m sorry!”

aftercare god. he’ll spend hours taking care of you, washing your back in the tub, greasing your scalp, making you tea and cookies, the whole nine. this man loves you deep.

[surielstea]

Caretaker

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Reader is sick & Az being the best bf ever

Warnings: slight suggestiveness, tooth rotting fluff

A/N: Literally wrote this when I was sick asf and high on cough medicine so I hope this makes sense 😭😭

2.2k words

My body tremors as another weak cough racks through me, my throat pulsing at the feeling. Watery eyes form tears, sliding down the bridge of my nose and dripping onto the plush pillow beneath my head.

I stare out the floor to ceiling window, marveling at the way the sidra morphs starlight into rainbow refractions. I sniffle, one of my nostrils completely closed off and making it a challenge to breathe. It was late. I didn't know the exact time but from the moons position in the sky I could guess it was far past midnight.

My mate hadn't come to bed and I debated clambering out of this all too hot bed to go and find him, wrap my arms around his waist and guide him back to our bed. But I can't expose him to whatever virus plagued me, in turn getting him sick, no matter how badly I missed his touch. It was already a risk to share the same bed, I couldn't push it.

Madja stopped by earlier and gave me a tonic to help ward off the cough but there was nothing she could do beyond that. I took the tonic minutes ago, the effects still settling in, I just hoped the cough would cease long enough for me to be able to fall asleep.

It's been days, my mate was convinced I was getting worse. He surveyed me like usual, but his gaze turned soft and pitiful every time a raucous cough came over me. Shadows kept me company, swirling fluidly against my back in a reassuring manner, the chill touch of them making me cool off from my heated state.

There was a soft knock at the door and I didn't have to look to know who it was. I adjusted under the covers, using my strength to sit up and lean against the headboard, teary eyed but making eye contact with the large winged male in the doorway. "Az." My voice was practically a whimper, a feeble excuse at calling for him.

"My love," He drew a long exhale, my sickness seemingly weighing on him as well.

"You can't be in here." I murmur, wiping my tears and wishing it was his hands instead of mine doing the act.

"I miss you." He offers me a soft smile as he tilts his head against the frame of the door, his silhouette from the hallway light made him look like some sort of angel.

"I don't want to get you sick." I shake my head, holding my arm out as if to shield him away but we both knew I held no power at the moment.

"It wouldn't be so bad," He tries to lighten the mood with a shrug. "I'd be off work, we could quarantine together. We'd read and cuddle and I could actually go within a ten feet radius of you." His words were convincing, and the idea has a smile tugging at my lips. That is until a croak of a cough rattles my body and I remember how irritating this illness is. I wouldn't want him to have this, ten foot radius or not.

"It's hard enough to stay away from you, don't tempt me." I sigh, allowing my bones to sink into the large matress.

"Worth a try." He mirrors my smile. "Do you need anything? Tea or soup?" He asks and I twist my lips to the side as I ponder what he could give me that would ever amount to how badly I want him and him alone. "A good book perhaps?" He arches a perfect brow. It pains me how well he knows me.

"A book would be nice." I hum and he pushes from the doorway, excited to accomplish a new task. His gaze lingers on me before he closes the door and his silent footsteps recede down the hall.

I look back out the window while I wait, fiddling with the mating ring around my fourth finger. My cough seemed to have settled, I'll have to tell my brother to increase Madja's salary for her admirable work — or maybe I'd pay her directly myself. As soon as I'm better I will, whenever that might be. I release a long sigh and allow my eyes to shut for a moment, I must've slept for half the day earlier but that didn't stop the rest from weighing at my heavy lids.

Before I dared slip into a sleep the spymaster opened the door with a multitude of items in his hands. I couldn't help but smile. The night courts intimidating Shadowsinger was at my door, with soup and tea and a book, taking care of me. He had one of the world's deadliest knife's at his thigh and he probably used it to cut open my tea bag.

"Az, I'm gonna cry." I warn. My already watery eyes verging on tears as I think about how much he does for me.

"No don't cry." His brows crease as he sits on his side of our bed, placing a bowl of soup down on my nightstand. "I tried to follow your mom's recipe but it won't be as good." He frowns and there's nothing more I want to do then kiss the pout off his perfect face. "And this is hot, so don't drink it for a few minutes." He places a steaming cup of tea beside the soup. "And this," He holds up a worn paper back book. "I went to Nesta and asked her for the best romance novel she could think of and she gave me this so." He places it on my lap. "Hopefully it's as smutty as you hope." He mutters beneath his breath and I flush hot but blamed it on my fever.

"Thank you." My voice was a rasp, he looked to my eyes. Hazel laced with love and admiration, the emotions reflecting on the golds and greens of his irises.

"Get some rest after eating, you have to get your strength up so I can get my sparring buddy back." He placed a hand on my forehead to check my temperature, something on his expression falls when he doesn't notice any difference from the last time he checked my temperature.

"Is Cassian not good enough anymore?" I scoff.

"He's not you." He huffs and an upside down smile spreads over my expression.

"I know you're sick but I really want to kiss you." He admits and just the idea makes me feel warmer inside. I grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him into me, his upper half hovering over me as I plant my lips onto his. I grin against the sensation, it's only been a few days but gods, how did I forget how perfect it felt to have his mouth against mine?

He pulls back first and I debate chasing him back but he pecks my forehead and I settle for it, leaning back onto my headboard yet again. "I'm going to finish up an assignment then I'll come to bed, okay?" He gets up from the bed and my eyes follow.

"Mhm." I nod tiredly.

"If I find you reading that book when I get back I'm taking it away." He warns and I bite my bottom lip mischievously.

"Goodnight lovely." A shadow tucks a strand of hair behind my ear as I watch him make his way to the door.

"Night Az." I muse in reply, already reaching for my bowl of the nostalgic meal.

—

About an hour later I had finished my entire bowl of soup and cup of tea. Both of them reminding me of my mother humming her favorite songs as she sewed her dresses, of Rhys teaching me how to fly before I could even walk, of Cassian brawling with my brother when he first moved in, and of Azriel's warm embrace.

I was curled into a ball with a mage light over my head, flipping through the pages of the romance novel Nesta lent me. It was a fantasy with just the right amount of erotica, the kind that would make any female flush. There were a few times when I'd have to close the book and take a breather before opening it back up, which meant it was perfection.

The door opened with a creak and I slammed the book shut the way a teenage boy might with a nude magazine. Azriel crinkles his brows at me and I look at him guiltlessly. "Evening handsome." I greet and he blinks at me like I'm crazy.

"Why are you being weird?" He utters, coming further into the room and closing the door behind him. I fold my lips inward to keep myself from laughing or possibly exposing that I was reading absolute filth just moments ago.

"Just reading." I shrug innocently and he narrowed his gaze in on me but seemed to let it go when striding over to the armoire to change. I watched him shamelessly as he stripped off his shirt, golden tan skin inked in swirling black. He shuffles through the drawers, giving me a full show of his muscular back and those large wings. My breath hitched as I stare without caution and a small chuckle sounds from him. He knows I'm watching, and at this point I can't find it in myself to care.

"Are you flexing on purpose?" I ask him as he discards his leathers for a pair of lounge pants.

"I'm not flexing love." He confesses and my stomach does backflips. Cords of muscle rippled from his shoulders down to his bulging arms, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little turned on. And he was just standing there. He turns to look at my tinged cheeks and it only makes me blush more. The eye contact just might kill me. The nonchalance and causality of it made my stomach churn, as if he wasn't standing there in front of me shirtless.

"You're teasing." I set my book on the nightstand and sink down into my pillows.

"How so?" His question is half a laugh because he knows what he's doing.

"I can't have you right now." I whine like some sort of child, pulling the blankets up and over my head so I don't have to look at his chest that seemed to be sculpted by the gods themselves. The bed sinks and I know he's now beside me. I can't help but gravitate towards him only to stop myself because I know cuddling would get him sick.

His strong arm wraps around my waist and pulls my back to his chest.

"No, Az I don't want to get you sick." I protest, pulling away with the weakest strength since the predicament at hand wasn't all too bad.

"I already told you I don't care if I get sick." He brings me in closer and who was I to deny my mate's embrace?

It was nice to lay beside him, nice to have his warmth radiating onto me. I missed him even if it's only been a few days, even if he still sleeps beside me every night. I missed the physicality of it. Azriel's never been one for touch but sometimes I go through phases where if I don't have my hands constantly on him I'd collapse.

So I allowed myself to lean into his chest, matching my breathing to his and intertwining my hand with his scarred one. "I love you." He hums into my shoulder, placing gentle kisses to the crook of my neck and a soft smile spreads across my lips.

"Would you still love me if—" I begin but he doesn't let me finish,

"Yes." His tone is confident and didn't waver for a beat.

"You don't even know what I was going to say." I pout and I feel him shake his head against me.

"As long as you're still you, I love you." He professes and I flip around to look at his golden eyes that the stars themselves were outmatched against.

"I love you too." My voice is a mere whisper but a wide grin takes over his face, revealing his dimples. His smile was so bright I thought for a moment that sun wouldn't rise in fear of rivaling it. "And I'm totally getting you sick." I threaten but he doesn't seem to mind, especially not when I lean forward a few inches in order to kiss that grin.

"Sleep, love." He coerced and pulls me into his chest, his wing draping over me like a blanket, blocking out any seeping light from the moon outside. "I'll be here in the morning." He muses, smoothing a scarred hand over my hair. He continues to play with the strands until I'm drifting off into that touch, his warmth inviting me to sleep.

Azriel was quick to follow, once he noticed my breathing even out. Shadows settle around us as his lids grow heavy and his weight falls into the bed. With me in his arms it was easier for him to sleep, the comfort of knowing I'm safe while in his hold pushed him further into that sweet relief of rest.

[jujutsukatsuki]

i’ve been waiting to see someone write thissss! (i think ur taking requests??)

the scene when alastor threatens husk!

the idea is reader (gn!) is there to comfort husk but he brushes them off, kinda like a hurt/comfort thing!

Okay I'm a little rusty but i got this! i wanted to do this as a Alastor x Reader but Reader is friends with Husker! I would like to add that I DO NOT SUPPORT VIV OR THEIR ACTIONS!

"This whole hotel will be full of demons wanting to check out into Heaven..." Charlie rambles on to her estranged father Lucifer, Vaggie follows on the other side of the short demon king and the princess of Hell. You followed behind them with Alastor, tall dark and creepy as he had been described by Mimzy moments before the group walked down the hallway.

"Hey Boss... can i have a word?" Alastor turns his head before his body, you hate when he does that, the sickling crack his neck makes. You turn to face the gambling demon cat, also known as your best friend in the hotel. You loved Husk, he was everything to you. "what is it?" Alastor's sickling smile never faulters, you're convinced he'd never drop the smile for people who weren't you. He was always sweet on you, even if on the outside it didn't look like he was. "You and i both know Mimzy only shows up when she needs somethin'. That bitch is trouble and who knows what kinda demon she fucked with to come running to you this time?" Alastor smirks and leans in towards the furball, you chew your lip, ready to jump between the two something you've done a few times before. "Its nothing i cant handle, don't worry Husker!" Alastor turns, arms crossed behind his back with his cane in hand, you look between Husk and Alastor. Husk looks angry that Alastor isn't listening. Husk looks to you and gives you an almost pleading look. If anyone could reason with the radio demon, it would be you. "Who in their right mind would cross me?" Alastor lets out a small hum as he starts to walk away. "I mean... you've been gone a while and its not like anybody knows why." "They don't need to know, and don't you worry your fuzzy head about it!" Alastor turns and pets husk on the head, something he absolutely hates. Husk lets out a loud growl as him and Alastor are nose to nose. The next few moments are a blur to you once husk mentions Alastor's metaphorical leash. The lights flicker, the room glitches with Alastor's power, your skin runs cold and you see the green leash snap around Husk's neck as he's thrown to the floor. "enough!" You yell, your hair standing on edge, eyes staring daggers into Alastor, your eye twitches with annoyance as you grab Alastor's arm and rip him away from Husk. "Now now sweet-" Alastor tries to calm you down, husk is shaking on the floor from the encounter. "No! This is enough Alastor, go find Charlie and Lucifer. Now!" You snap and point to where the group had gone. You never snapped at him, never even raised your voice. But right now, there was smoke coming out of your ears with how upset you were. Angry tears threatening to spill as you hold your stance. The green leash fades away and Alastor marches off without another word. "You okay?" You help Husk up who shakes you off with a tsk. "I don't need your pity, I'm fine." Husk grumbles and retreats to the bar downstairs. "Husk, please." You try and catch up with him. "What!" He turns and snaps.

"I don't need you playing the role of my parent! i can take care of myself, that's all ill ever need. Myself and what ever alcohol i can get my hands on." His voice is heavy, you know this is his mask. The one he puts on when something really bothers him and doesn't want to talk about it. You pull him into a hug and gently rub his back, you can feel his body tense, his wings are stiff before he slowly relaxes under your touch, his wings gently folding around the two of you. "I know Husker." You say gently, fingers combing his fur. "But I'm always here, you don't have to do it all on your own. I got you too. Family and losers and what not." You hum as the two of you pull away. "Yeah yeah, whatever you say." Husk smirks as he waves his hand, you know he understands what you're saying and what you mean is true, but the little bit of ego he had left doesn't let him fully show it. You and Husk reach the bar just as the building starts to shake due to some loan sharks trying to get in to look for Mimzy. The building catches fire, as they throw some Molotov cocktails through the windows. You gasp as you see some of the glass coming for you but i certain red demon pulls you from harms way. "I suppose i need to remind everyone why I'm here!" Alastor grins as he goes into his demon mode, you close your eyes, you hate seeing him in his giant demon mode. Once he's outside, you start helping Husk clean the building up.

"Darling, you alright?" Alastor comes back in to check on you

"Peachy." You snarl, still upset about earlier. Now even more upset due to Mimzy and her drama hurting the one place you loved.

Alastor straightens his suit before he forces Mimzy to leave, seeing as she was hurting the hotel and his beloved. You ignore the conversation as you sweep up glass. You feel a certain hand on your shoulder, you turn to look at Husk.

"It's okay, I shouldn't have made that comment. Don't let me get between the two of you." "I just don't like how he treats you." "Its okay, its my deal to take care of, not yours."

You let out a deflated sigh before turning to see Alastor who was waving around his cane to start fixing the hotel once again.

"Ali-" You say softly using the nickname he adored, it was simple but sounded amazing rolling off your lips.

"Yes darling?" He cuts you off as he grabs your hand and pulls you into him. You cant help but smile gently before grabbing his bowtie and yanking him down to be face to face with you.

"You ever hurt my Husky like that and i will make sure its your screams broadcasting on the radio. Understood?" You hiss and stare in his red eyes.

"Yes beloved." He nodded.

"Good." You nod back before going back to continuing to clean up the hotel lobby.

Sure life in the hotel wasn't the best, but it was your life none the less.

i hope this was good! its been a while since i wrote something!

[sapchat]

Ways to add simple little details to Prythian in your stories!

For the Autumn Court this one is basic and many people use it: Males gift their fiancées, wives, mates fox kits as a symbol of their love and good luck with the relationship. To make it sadder, Beron never did this for Lady A, so when Eris found out about this tradition he got his mom one!

For the Dawn Court: Like how the night court Illyrians put the women down, what if the Dawn Court was the opposite and the Peregryn females would put the males down. In the real world male birds are held to a high standard for breeding, I feel like Peregryn instincts would cause this and it just gives more to a story than the females constantly being the abused. Also they’re stomach/side sleepers. I talk more about this below with the night court just to not repeat myself.

Day Court is full of bastards. You can NOT convince me that it isn’t. Helion is laying the fucking pipe like he’s discovered oil. And the reason I feel this is because of @florencemtrash ‘s story “The Shadow and the Inkbird” (also it’s really good go read it if you haven’t) where the MFC is Helions bastard, and meets Lucien and instantly realizes that they’re halfsiblings. And I was like ya know the Day Court is probably like Game of Thrones Dorne. Dorne is know for their bastards almost every persons name in that city is ‘Sand’ because they’re all bastards basically. So I just KNOW that Helion probably has other kids than just Lucien. And everyone in that court is fucking.

Summer Court has mermaids. It’s basic, it’s simple and it’s true. There’s mermaids.

Night Court, listen we already now a lot about the Nigh Court but this pertains to Illyrian’s so I feel it’s different. They’re stomach/side sleepers. They are. You can’t tell me that two massive wing sticking out of your back would allow you to lay on your back. It can’t be comfortable. Like have you ever tried sleeping with like a ponytail/claw clip in? It ain’t nice. Now imagine it with two that sit right beside your shoulder blades and the clips are like 3ft long? Idk how long the base would be but like probably pretty fucking long to allow actual flight capabilities. Also when they sleep on their side they just have their wings straight out, now like laying on one and the other out. They’ve got big ass beds for a reason spread out. (Cassian fully takes up a bed like star fish style just on his stomach. Nesta is sick of it.)

Spring Court, during the Spring Equinox the High Lord chooses someone to dress up and hand out spring gifts to family’s (usually kids). When Tamlin became High Lord he appointed himself to do so. During this time Tamlin also gives many of the less fortunate families something they can later use for the Tithe.

Winter Court puts on a celebration for the children called Three Kings Day. Family’s with children are welcomed to the castle(? Do they have castles…?) and the bakers leave a cake outside the doors of the family, inside the cakes (this is a real thing from Puerto Rico/France/Spain too btw, the cake is called la galette des rois (Kings Cake)) are toys/coins. Whichever children find them get to wear a crown for the day and called Kings/Queens (Kallias started the tradition that all kids get to do this, he’s a softy).

[sparkrls]

set a love alight

MASTERLIST

part of the bandmates! harry x yn au

Summary: in which Y/N makes mistakes and Harry remind her she’s only human

Author’s Note: just needed some emotional Y/N with sweetheart Harry. remember to like and reblog because i crave validation. love ya <3

Word Count: 1.3k

•••

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Y/N cursed, pushing past the mess of wires and equipment backstage and pushing through the door of the emergency exit. The door swung open, slamming against the brick wall before clicking shut again.

Kicking at a small rock in the gravel, Y/N tried to release her fury. A choked sob escaped her raw throat, the burning reminding her of the fatal mistake she’d made that night.

Ambition had been her downfall. She’d let herself be overly confident in her abilities and had reached too high, her wings scorched by the sun.

Y/N fell to the ground. She didn’t bother to sit down gently, simply just letting her knees give out beneath her. She curled her knees up to her chest, hugging them and linking her hands together.

The hem of her skirt rode up, reaching her upper thigh. Usually, she might tug it down, but she was a bit too busy crying to even think about something so trivial like her skirt.

A pair of hands settled on her shoulders. Y/N was startled at the sudden touch. She could’ve sworn she was alone.

Eyeliner and makeup smudged from crying, Y/N looked up to find that Harry was crouched in front of her, his gaze soft and warm. She quickly tried to wipe her tears away, but he caught her wrists and pulled them down to her sides.

Harry’s voice was soft, barely a whisper, “Baby. It’s okay.” He was handling her like shattered glass, doing his best to not slit his hand while picking up the sharp fragments. “I’m here.”

Y/N didn’t like for people to see her cry. Not only was she an ugly crier, but she hated when people saw her so vulnerable. It felt wrong. And she didn’t cry often anyways. But when she did, it was messy and wild.

“I screwed up,” Y/N whispered, hating how her voice broke when she was barely audible. A pool of shame gathered in her stomach, weighing her down and suffocating her.

Harry sat down next to her, his arm wrapping around her shoulder. He leaned forward to meet her eyes. “Yeah. You did. And?”

“And?” She said, her voice raising a bit. “And I humiliated myself. I was so fucking bad.”

“You were nervous and you made a mistake,” Harry said steadily, his voice never raising. “It happens to the best of us.”

“I shouldn’t have taken that solo,” Y/N said with the shake of her head, another tear spilling against her will.

They had decided to perform their new song, ‘Set A Love Alight’. Y/N and Harry had written it just three weeks ago, and they decided to play it at this gig they’d booked at the bar they regularly played at, 17 Black.

After a long time of reluctance and hesitation, Y/N had decided to do the song as a solo. Up until now, Harry was always the one singing. Occasionally, Sarah or Mitch would sing a verse or two, but for the most part, Harry was the vocal powerhouse. Everyone liked it that way, everyone felt comfortable.

And Y/N had never dared to sing anything except backing vocals. And for the last few months, Harry had been trying to convince her to sing at least one verse of a song. He’d hyped her up, encouraging her to do so and telling her how amazing her voice was about a million times.

After a long time of pleading, Harry’d gotten what he wanted and more. Y/N took on the burden of an entire song. And tonight was not only the debut of the new song, but also of her voice.

Weeks of rehearsals had fallen down the drain when Y/N started singing and her voice came out shaky with nerves. Her hands were shaking and she didn’t hit the right chords on the guitar. And her lungs started constricting, making it hard for her to complete the lines without gasping for air. And all of this combined into the messiest performance the band had ever performed.

At the end of the song, Y/N was holding back tears and the small amount of people paying attention to the band clapped politely, but she heard the whispers of judgement. And when she turned to look at the band, the three of them were looking at her with pity in their eyes.

That was how she’d rushed off stage, thrusting her guitar into the hands of someone she passed by, possibly even a bystander just walking by. She didn’t even look at their face before walking out in tears.

“Love, you’re a good singer,” Harry said with a small sigh, caressing her cheek with his thumb. Her eyes fluttered shut. “You got nervous. It happens to everyone. You just have to learn how to control those nerves, that’s all.”

Y/N took a shaky breath, holding back a sob. “I made everyone look bad.”

Harry let out a small laugh. Y/N opened her eyes to glare at him. He rushed to say, “Baby, I wasn’t making fun of you, I swear. I just… I’ve made countless mistakes on stage. My voice has cracked, I’ve missed high notes, I’ve mixed up verses, I’ve sung off-key. But my mistakes don’t take away from my talent.” He pulled her forward to hug her. “Not to toot my own horn, but I’m a good singer. Because I was persistent and a hard worker. I didn’t give up even when I had moments where I sounded like shit and thought I had humiliated myself to a degree no other human being ever had.”

Y/N took a deep breath. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Which part?” Harry asked, curiously. He was ever as bright as always, but so soft and gentle. He was a sweetheart above anything else.

“Getting on stage and giving an amazing as fuck performance each time,” Y/N said. She shook her head. “You’re amazing, H.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s what I know how to do. I’ve done it my entire life. The same way you always play the guitar ‘amazing as fuck’.” He scrunched his nose up at her as he mocked her words. She let out a small chuckle. He smiled, pleased at himself. He always pulled a smile out of her. “It takes time and experience. I promise next time you get on stage to sing you’ll be better. Not perfect, just better. And someday, you won’t even remember tonight as anything more than just another story to tell and laugh at.”

Y/N pursed her lips, silent for a moment in thought. He was right. He always was.

Somehow, Harry always managed to make the tears seem like just another silly hurdle to jump over. The world seemed so much easier to face when he spoke about it so simply.

And with Harry holding her in his arms, who wouldn’t be ready to take on anything the universe threw her way?

Harry let out a small sigh, running his fingers through her hair. “You’ll be okay, love.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Harry always took care of her with love. Not as if she were fractured sharp glass, but as if she were a bouquet of flowers you settled into a vase with care as to not let a single petal drop.

And Y/N wished she were as sweet as him. She wished she could be as good and pure as he was, to give him the affection he needed. The care he gave her was the kind he should be receiving.

“I love you,” Y/N whispered, starting off with something small to remind him of her love.

Harry smiled, as if she’d made some grand declaration of love and hung a star in the night sky for him. “I love you too.”

[fantasyandshit]

Something is wrong

type: Oneshot

Pairing:Azriel x reader

Masterlist

"where are you going?"

"Oh, Az!" Yn turns as her wings unfurl- "Im headed to Windhaven to check on things up there for Rhys- When did you get back? I thought you were still in Day?" "I-I returned last night. I'm sorry, you said your going to WindHaven?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because Rhysand asked me to? What's the issue with that?"

The shadowsinger notes the females face contorting into one of confusion, "Well it's just- Myself, Cassian, or Rhys are the ones that usually go up?"

Now the confusion morphs to anger and annoyance as she speaks, "Oh? Am I not capable shadowsinger?"

"No No! It's just that they are dangerous as they are- and well, your a female far more powerful than any of them-who knows what they may try to do to you?" The words fly out of Azriels mouth in a blur.

"Your right, i am more powerful than them-If I must I will fight them-inf act I'll do it in front of the whole of the camp as a lesson." the Illyrian females eight, bright green, siphons flare like green flames licking within the small gem shapes.

"Just-just be careful ok?" Azriel knew he couldn't fight the female-couldn't convince her to stay, and he knew she was very capable, powerful, but deep down he couldn't' help the gut feeling that something was going to go wrong- that she would be hurt.

"Always shadowsinger." She smirked as she dropped backwards off the balcony railing, falling for a moment before her wings flared open and she soared for the mountains- always with the dramatic exit.

-----

As I make my way through the frigid night to the cabin I am staying in I hear footsteps- ten separate sets of them trailing through the snow-following me. I whirl around only to be caught off guard by a punch to the face, I stagger back- quickly kicking my attacker in his kidney. The male lets out a groan, kneeling to the floor before before i kick him again, this time in the face. As I use my power, effectively killing the brute; another male comes up from behind, pulling my head and exposing my neck, just before I'm able to fling him off I feel a needle in the side of my neck. Shit.

I feel my body start to go numb, my knees giving out as the male behind me catches me. I barely get another glimpse before my eyes are rolling back as I go limp in his arms.

-----

"I'm telling you Rhys- its been five days, you said she'd be back in three. There has been no warning of a longer stay and no-"

"Azriel! Stop it! Yn is capable- you know that better than anyone, she will be fine!" A sigh, "If she doesn't come back within two days-we will go after her. ok?"

Knowing he wouldn't win this, Azriel bows his head before stalking out.

-----

The next day the doors to Rhysand's office were thrown open, the Shadowsinger storming in. He knew something was off with yn and he was not going to sit around any longer. He just, he just knew she wasn't ok and the fact no one seemed to care made him blind with rage. He didn't understand this feeling, he'd never been nearly this mad at his family before but he couldn't shake the fire burning underneath his skin.

"Im leaving and you're either coming with me or staying out of my way." Azriel didn't need ti explain, everyone in the room knew what he was talking about- well more like seething like a wild animal, his hair tousled as he glared ahead.

The high lord lets out an exasperated sight, "Az- we talked about this, if sh-"

"No! No! What of it were Mor? What if it where Feyre, or Nesta?"

"That's different-"

"No its fucking. Not. Now are you coming with me or no?"

As he turns to leave the room, Cassian moves to him,p placing a hand on his shoulder as he tries to reason, "Maybe-"

"Let. Me. Go."

"Az-"

"Let him go Cass."

The Illyrian let's his brother go sighing as he does so.

-----

Azriels shadows are in a frenzy as he lands in the camp- hurt- experiments-torture-ten-hurt-help-help!- Help her! Now! Faster!

The male sprints, running faster than he ever has as his shadowsa lead him deep into the woods where one lone cabin stands.

'basement- ten males-she's hurt-save her'

As the door is pushed open a man jumps for Azriel, he waist no time, sending his shadows down the mans eyes and strangles him as he slumps to the floor, the next males ends with a dagger in his head, the one after with a slit throat, choking and spluttering on his own blood, the fifth with shadows circling his body, pooling into the open whiles they find. The next is thrown from the house with Azriel's power, the next just obliterated, the eighth and ninth are thrown into each other, going on conscious before being stabbed in the throat. The final tenth one stands at the top of the stairs, thrown down and ending with a sickening crunch.

Azriel stomps down the stairs, being met with a sight that nearly makes him throw up as he rushes to the female. Yn lays naked and strapped to a cold metal table, her body covered in blood, vomit, piss, and puss that oozes from concerning wounds, her body is also littered in bruises, slices, and what look to be needle injection sights. And her wings, gods her wings were shredded, hooks tethering them to the ground. As he moves to her he notices a journal lying open...

they were using her as a fucking experiment- they had pushed who know what into her body, torturing her slowly.

"Az?" Her usual strong, sassy voice replaced with a weak whimper.

"Hey, hey I'm here." He brushes her hair behind her ear softly, his face softening immediately as he stares at her. she looks tired, so tired.

"You came for me?"

"Yes, I always will. Ok sweet girl, I need to release your wings ok? It's going to hurt."

She says nothing as she stares forward, Azriel grabbing the first hook and ripping it out- a small cry leaves her lips but she's out of energy, screaming far to much these past few days. Azriel moves to the next wing, pulling the second hook out, her wings drooping as he moves to unbind her. He slowly pulls her up and into his arms, cringing at the whimpers and squeaks she releases. "Oh sweetheart. I am so so sorry."

Azriel knows he can't transport her in this condition so he quickly calls for Rhys.

'Rhysand!' his panicked voice rings down to the other males mind

'Azriel? What is it?'

'It's Yn, bring Madja-quick.'

'I'm on my way now.'

"Az?"

"Yes?"

"Come here."

The shadowsinger leans his head down- surprised as Yn surges forward ever so slightly, pressing their lips together, molding them to each other like they were made for each other. Before any more can happen, Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, and Madja appear in the room.

-----

Azriel watches as Yn's chest rises and falls slowly. She'd been out nearly three days now and Azriel couldn't leave her side, nor could he stand to look his family in the eye. They were part of the reason they were in this position right now, why Yn still lay on her bed, deep in sleep.

-----

The next morning Azriel is woken up by a soft voice. "Az?"

"Yn. hey, your awake." The male rushes to her side as he helps her sit up slowly. As the two make eye contact Azriel feels it, and judging by the gasp she lets out, Yn does too."

"Mate?" They speak at the same time. Smiling like two kids in a candy shop as they simply look into each others eyes for a moment. Unable to help himself, Azriel leans in, kissing he mate softly.

-------

Sooooo, hey guys! I felt like writing a feral Az but also wanted some sweetness sooooo here you go. Some of this did get inspired by the lovely work of @afandomangel but it was original work of mine, I've wanted to write feral Az for a while now. I want to leave this saying- Guys PLEASE send in requests, part of the reason I haven't been posting as much is because I a having serious writers block and my inbox has been open-and empty- for...well since In opened it and I needdddddd you guys to send in requests, I write everything and I write for a lotttttttt of fandoms, not just acotar so please please send in requests. Anywt\ay love you guys and I hope you enjoyed

[madtotry]

thinking of you, with my head underwater one. — two. — three. — coming soon.

hiccup haddock x reader

a/n. featuring toothless. gn reader. reader's dragon is one i created/came up with myself, youre welcome to ask about it! i plan for this to be a series - and to reveal more soon (if you have any questions/confusions about the plot youre welcome to pop into my inbox with those too) let me know if you want to be added to a taglist for my writing/this series

it hadn't been easy to get you to simply let hiccup look at your dragon — elsa — from afar without panicking, let alone convince you to go on a short flight with him.

so now, as you glide just above the surface of the sea, your gaze remains ahead; keeping an eye on elsa beneath you, and hiccup to your side, in your peripheral vision.

he hasn't said too much, and he probably means it as some sort of polite courtesy in an attempt to not overwhelm you, but it only serves to heighten your nerves at the possibility of him just waiting for the right time to attack you and steal elsa.

"what's her firepower?" he finally asks, at a volume that you think might have been in an attempt not to scare you, but is almost so quiet it gets whipped away even in the calm breeze.

you query a, "what?" in confusion, but he reads it as you not hearing him properly.

"firepower," he repeats kindly, and leans down to mutter something to his dragon, "like this."

a moment later, toothless opens his mouth — causing elsa to twitch just an inch away anxiously — and shoots a blast out of his mouth that flies ahead and disperses in a purple burst a few seconds after.

you tense once you understand, having never seen elsa do anything like that, let alone even just the normal fire you've caught other dragons spurting.

hiccup however, notices your sudden — extra — uneasiness, and doesn't pick up on the real reason.

"you don't have to tell me," he tries to catch your eye with a comforting smile, "i'm just asking because i've never seen a dragon like yours before."

you try to cooperate, "neither have i."

hiccup's head already spins with new questions, but goes easy on you with a simple, "could you tell me about her?" that he hopes is open-ended enough that you don't feel pressured.

elsa lets out a low, quiet, murmur that only you catch that tells you she's just as uncertain as yourself.

you don't know how he keeps being so patient and perceptive, but hiccup notices both you and your dragons' hesitance yet again, and speaks.

with a smile, he says, "this is how he got his name," nodding to toothless, who turns to look in your direction with a grin, mouth wide as he retracts his teeth and extends them back out a moment later proudly.

you can't help but feel the slightest upturn of your lips at toothless's pure joy, and a small hum from elsa and a ruffle of her wings tells you she feels the same; though appears to be better at hiding it than yourself.

"cool, right?" hiccup smiles back at you.

"i can show you more, this guy's full of secrets," he scratches a little crook in toothless's neck, who purrs happily at the affection, "aren't you!"

it slips out in a moment of comfort that you don't entirely hate, when you finally say, "she floats."

it takes a second for you to realise what you've said, and another to notice how nonsensical it sounds. but hiccup's reaction doesn't reflect this, if anything the sparkle in his eyes is just that little bit brighter - like he knows he's making progress. and his smile has not once faltered, but it has grown just a bit softer, perhaps more genuine?

he leaves room for you to elaborate, so when you don't — whether that be from the high-tide of anxiety splashing at your chest, or inexplicable embarrassment — he says:

"could you show us?"

elsa's sudden jolt away is unmistakable, and it doesn't take even a breath for you to tune into her uneasiness, and to tense yourself.

your head shakes without you realising, and all you can muster is a quick mumbled, "sorry," before elsa flies the two of you away; hopefully to somewhere you two are familiar with, somewhere safe.

you don't catch the way both his and toothless's expressions fall as you exit, nor the way he still politely stays where he was an makes no effort to chase after you - lest he scare you or elsa any further. he simply watches with a hint of sadness, and hopes you will be around the next time he flies through here.

[raisedbythetv89]

No, but like…FAMOUSLY not just in Buffy, but every universe that has spells and magic, real love CANNOT be manufactured or duplicated by magic. Only twisted obsession/infatuation like what we see in Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered.

But in “Something Blue” Buffy literally says once the spell is over and she’s talking to Willow “I loved him, we were betrothed” in a spell whose specifications had only to do with marriage which would only change them from being enemies to allies, which then allowed all their suppressed and ignored feelings to come to the surface that they could NOT act on before when the other person was supposed to bring about their death.

And I’m not saying full deep romantic season 7 and beyond love but they clearly CARE about each other and are extremely attracted to each other, in lust if you will…and must have been for a while. Giving SO MUCH credence to neither of them ever succeeding at killing each other because deep down they genuinely never wanted to. (yeah yeah plot armor but so much of the time when one of them got away it was really WAY too easy like they could have at least made it so both of them were always just BARELY getting away by the skin of their teeth instead of how many times one of them really just lets the other go after exchanging a few punches like 😹 they weren’t even TRYING after a while and to me “Something Blue” proves it’s because they do not want to kill each other because they are crushing SO HARD. Because also in season 2 when they make the truce literally FIVE MINUTES LATER Buffy leaves Spike alone with her mother while she’s on the phone. The amount of trust that demonstrates is actually insane especially when you combine it with the fact that Buffy doesn’t do a disinvite spell after he leaves town OR comes back in season 3 & 4. And plot armor or not, them never killing each other becomes part of the lore and informs the motivation of the characters because that’s just how fiction works! 🤷🏼‍♀️)

I mean just look at these two love sick idiots

I MEAN….Buffy’s face when her immortal and extremely durable vampire just gets tossed across the room?? She goes into slayer overdrive, swiftly taking care of the two demons she was fighting to run over and check on him exactly like she does so many times in season 7 because that’s her vampire!!!

We see them so happy and in love - literally the happiest we’ve ever seen Buffy and then the show tries to tell us “it wasn’t even nice” because what? They bickered?? You mean they actually SAID what was on their minds and talked about it and then comforted the other when they were sad instead of bottling it all up or being evasive of topics that would cause fights and Buffy would tell Spike lovingly to shut up when he was being dumb??? OH NO THE HORROR!!

And what really is the cherry on top for me is the “wind beneath my wings” bit because Buffy blames the spell while her body language and face clearly says it was NOT the spell, that was all Buffy. Which opens the door for us to question just how much was what we saw because of the spell’s influence vs the real Spike and Buffy just completely uninhibited by their status of an engaged couple???

Especially when this supposed engagement to a “bad boy” who was helpful to her watcher, extremely caring and loving towards her in front of all her friends and when xander says something mean spike is SO HURT and he’s like “that’s it! You’re off the usher list!” Like oh yes THE BIG BAD INDEED 💀 but Buffy claims being engaged to a Spike “gets her over her bad boy thing because it wasn’t even nice” ….. GURL you are running for the hills to seemingly “normal” captain cardboard because you LOVED being engaged to the slayer of slayers and that scared the absolute shit out of you and you were like I need to do something to convince myself I’m normal and not the kind of girl who would be into Spike IMMEDIATELY 💀 and then avoids Spike for the next several episodes while Spike is always asking where she is for Buffy to achieve maximum avoidant/suppression of feelings possible 😹😹😹

And the way Spike NEVER teases her about it afterwards like he did with the “wind beneath my wings” bit at the end of the episode to me is so telling of the importance it held for him too that he never used everything he must have learned about her at that time or never even taunted Riley about the fact that the Slayer was all over him when her and Riley had first started dating because let’s be honest that would be SUCH a Spike thing to do. Like???? They have been so into and conflicted about each other for a LONGGG time and I honestly cannot be convinced otherwise 😹

[doe-eyed-fool]

Fallen {Chapter Two}

Alastor x (fem) Reader

My eyes slowly opened, a soft groan left me. I slowly sat up, this time feeling more comfortable. My heart raced as I memories replayed in my mind. I had fallen from heaven into hell with no explanation as to why. I got badly injured. I even made a deal with a demon. "Finally awake are we?" Speaking of. I glanced over at the bedroom door, in the entry way was Alastor.

"How are you feeling?" He asks. I look back at my once injured wing, it was healed over.

Though, a few feathers were missing from the now scar that was left from the protruding bone. I look down at my legs next, they were healed as well. I wasn't as sore as I was before, thankfully. I look over to Alastor before speaking. "I'm fine." I tell him.

Alastor approaches the bed to look over my wing. "I see I haven't lost my touch." He says smugly. I avoid his eyes, unsure of what to say. What was there to say? My eyes trail to a window across the room. I could still see the pentagon, ever bright in the crimson sky.

And far up above past it, would be heaven. "Alastor?" The demon hums in response. "I can go back now right? I can fly again, can't I?" I asked. "You could try." Alastor began. "However, I advise against it. I might have set the bone back into place and healed it, but I can't say if it wouldn't break again if you tried flapping your wings. Hollow bones can be very tricky. Flying might not be the best idea at the moment." I didn't like hearing that, and yet he went on.

"But let's say you could fly right now. How would you escape hell?" I look at him, trying to answer, but couldn't find the words.

Surely I could have just flown up couldn't I? But now that I really thought about it, if the winged demons have not found their way into heaven by flying upward...How could have I?

"Not even Lucifer himself can leave this place. There is only one person who can grant you entrance into heaven. And I think you know who."

"God." I sigh. "I don't even know why I'm here. Surely god has not casted me out purposefully." Alastor only shrugs. "Who can say? But I did promise I'd help you find a way, and I intend to keep my word."

"Not to offend. But how are you going to pull that off?" I asked. "Perhaps I could convince your god to reconsider?" Alastor says with a laugh. Right, like god would listen to a demon of all people. "You're going to convince god to let me back into heaven? I don't think that will work." I say, clear hesitation in my tone.

"My dear, you'd be surprised by just what I can do." Alastor said lowly, the static in his voice sharpening for a moment. That put me at such unease, a shiver ran up my spine.

"I do believe I should do a bit of explaining. It might make things a little easier. We will be apart of each others afterlife for a while, might as well get to know each other." Alastor then went on about just who he was and what his status meant in this place.

He was an overlord, well known for all the terrible reasons, and feared by all. When he was gone talking about himself, he waited for me to tell him about myself. "Um well. I was quite the boring person while I was alive, I must admit." I started.

"I grew up in a small town, worked a simple job, and attended church every week." I tell him. "I never did drugs or drank. I tried my best to keep myself in god's light. Be the best version of myself I could be. And I was given paradise after death as a result. It was my devotion to god that allowed me to enter the gates of heaven. That only further confuses me as to why I ended up here. I was a good person. I was...Wasn't I?" I trailed off, not realizing the silence that followed until Alastor spoke up.

"Afraid I can't answer that." He says with a shrug. "But I can't say this much. While you're here, you might as well forget that "good person" behavior of yours. That means nothing in this place. The sinners out there will eat you alive." He smirks.

"And your appearance won't help you either. An angel like you? You'll be hunted down and then who knows what will happen to you then. Well, I can think of a few things. You wouldn't like it if I told you though."

"No...I don't think I would..." I muttered. "So, am I suppose to stay here then? Hidden?" I asked. "Perhaps." Alastor says before falling silent to think. After a minute his grin widens. "Or perhaps not! I can disguise you, that way you can blend in with the rest of the scum out there." My expression turns into one of confusion.

"You can? How?" I asked. Alastor took my hand and stood me up off the bed. "It's a simple trick I know. This won't take long at all, just..." Alastor waved his hand, and just like that a necklace appeared out of thin air.

I took it from him and stared at it for a moment. It was pretty, I admit. "Go on then." Alastor insisted. I glance at him before looking down at the necklace one more time before finally putting it on.

I gasped as I felt my body change. It was painless, but still felt odd as it happened. After a few seconds the feeling subsided. "My, get a look at you!" Alastor looks me up and down. He leads me to a full length mirror, and once again I felt air leaving my lungs as I stare at my own reflection.

My skin was now a pale blue, that blended into black on my arms and legs, down to my hands and feet. My (color) hair, now an inky black. My white feathered wings, now dark bat wings. I wore a knee length black and white dress with long puffy sleeves. And my eyes, the whites of them were filled black, only broken by my white pupils. As I spoke, I could see sharp teeth peaking out from behind my lips.

"I look so...demonic." I mutter. "But of course! That's the point isn't it?" Alastor pats my shoulder. "Now, I have matters to attend to. I hope you don't mind tagging along." I turn to face him. "Just what matters exactly?" I ask warily. "Tending to a hotel along with a few colleagues of mine." That...That's it? Working at a hotel? "Oh um. Ok, sure. I'll try and keep out of the way."

"Then let's be off!" Alastor takes hold of my hand before snapping his fingers. And within seconds, we were at the doors of a hotel. I look up at the building. "Hazbin Hotel? How...fitting?" Alastor chuckles before leading me inside. Right away we're we're met with a demon, a rather cheerful one at that.

"Welcome back Alastor! We could use all the help we can get to...day. Oh, hello." The looks to me. She was around my height. She had long blonde hair, and wide red eyes.

Her rosy cheeks defined as she smiles. She straightens out her red pantsuit uniform trying to look a bit more presentable. "What's your name?" She asks politely, which I was surprised by. "Y/n." I tell her. "Nice to meet you Y/n. I'm Charlie." She holds out her hand for me to shake. I take it, her grip was shockingly gentle. "Are you here for a chance for redemption?"

"Excuse me?" I ask, blinking owlishly.

[000yul]

a friend asked for a quick and dirty TL of the new lunar new year official manhua oneshot (Let's Share a Meal Together) so i Tried★ it's a treat!! perfect for the new year

i forget how the siblings address each other in the official TL so i'm winging it here oops .: The movie has concluded, please leave in an orderly fashion. N: Ooh~ These two hours were well-spent. Even if they can't compare to me, this director's pretty promising. N: Hey! Watch where you're going! .: S-sorry…

N: Really now. … N: Feels like Lungmen's been more crowded than usual recently… N: Right! N: It's that time of year again.

(cover) Siblings though they may be, their tastes have nothing in common.

N: So… N: I'm thinking we should have a family dinner for New Year's Eve. CY: I don't know where you got this idea, CY: but that's fine by me.

CY: I don't think you'll find the others as easy to convince though. CY: Ling's such a free spirit you might find it hard to see her in time, let alone Dusk. CY: You don't get along with Dusk. Didn't you guys get into a fight over the bowl of noodles you cooked for her before? N: Bro, aren't you tired? (I know I am, just from watching…) CY: If you persevere every day, you wouldn't tire from something like this. CY: Nian, you should also exercise. Then in daily life, you'll… N: When it comes to martial arts, I'm pretty sure you have everyone in Great Yan beat. CY: Haha, you speak too highly. Even if that were true, if I let my guard down, in forty years there might be someone who can defeat me. N: It's just forty years. With a mortal lifespan, how many people are going to be able to match your years of practice?

CY: It's precisely because their lives are so short compared to ours CY: that the rate of their progress is beyond our imagination. CY: That's why I believe it's all the more important for us to spend time bettering ourselves. CY: Nian, if you feel like you have too much free time, how about I draw you up a training regimen… N: Wow, look at the time, I'm going to miss the next bus. N: I've rented a place in Lungmen, the address is as I said, don't be late, byee! CY: Sigh… This child is as impatient as ever…

Shangshu City N: Well, I've reached this pavilion… N: Why do all these peaks look the same… (bottle of booze) N: … N: She's not taking the bait, is she… N: (Last time Ling showed up for Second Brother's cup…) N: (I guess this doesn't compare…)

N: Open sesame, spin the bottle, whee! L: (I really don't want to show myself.) N: BOSS! GET OUT HERE, I WANT A REFUND! .: Ah…? N: YOU TOLD ME THIS WAS SO GOOD IT COULD TEMPT AN IMMORTAL TO DESCEND! N: THIS USELESS-ASS—

N: piece of… N: When did you get here? L: I've been sitting here for a while now. N: How did you know I'd be here today? L: It came to me in a dream, let's say. N: (here's a souvenir cup I got you.)

L: So what winds called you here from far away? L … I see, so you wanted to call us together for New Year's Eve dinner. L: I'm not against this on principle, but I'm afraid I can't make it that day. N: Why? L: A prior appointment.

L: Ten years ago I asked someone to brew some wine for me, and I'm due to pick it up this year, on the 30th. L: The flavour won't be right if I'm even a day early, L: and after the 30th, they're going to close for the New Year. L: It's true that this time is a big occasion for the people of Great Yan. It's a once-a-year occasion, after all. L: But that has nothing to do with us. L: Let's do it another day. N: You'll regret not having a taste of my homemade hotpot!! L: (Does she think that's a selling point…) L: It looks like little sister Dusk has a storm coming her way…

D: Who goes there? D: NIAN! IF YOU WANT TO DIE I CAN OBLIGE!!

D: You vandalised my art for THIS? N: Wow, the face you're making is ugly as hell. D: I'm not going. D: I can't believe you ever thought me saying yes was a possibility. N: You'll regret not having a taste of my homemade hotpot!! D: Do you think that's a selling point!? N: Oh, right! There's a hot new artist's exhibition in Lungmen. I went to see it and it's pretty good! Aren't you interested? D: If you like it, I definitely won't!

D: I have no interest in the artwork of others. D: Also, if you want a reunion so badly, D: one day we'll all reunite no matter how we feel about it. No? N: Again with that tired old crap.

N: One day, N: I'll make it so that you never say that again. D: Hmph. D: Get lost.

N: Oh man, in the end only you showed up. CY: Haha, well, I hope I suffice. CY: I sent word to the Sui Regulator. N: Ah! CY: I knew it'd slip your mind. N: Man! None of them can commit worth a damn!

N: Will there ever be a time where we can just go somewhere together for a day? N: Like normal people, N: Like a normal family.

L: Ahh~ L: Looks like I'm out of wine L: I should seek out more… D: What a pain. D: I should knock some sense into her.

CY: Nian, CY: Let's get a hotpot with a divider. For spicy and non-spicy. N: Were you even listening? N: No. N: Absolutely not. N: Nooooooooo.

N: Bro! I thought you could handle spice! CY: Alright, now that the shopping is wrapped up, let's head back. N: Why'd you insist on the split hotpot..! N: Brother!! CY: I just think being prepared is a good thing. (Also, I'm not as good with spice as you are.) CY: And, CY: It's not just humans who are capable of change. D: Open up, it's too cold out. D: Idiot. CY: See.

D: What? Your staring is making me lose my appetite. N: Hehe, N: Doesn't the real thing taste better than ink? D: Hmph. Whatever. N: Whoa, it started!

N: I was part of the prep for this year's fireworks show in Lungmen! N: Check out my Super Deluxe Two-Step Firecracker! D: So.. the reason you picked Lungmen was…? L: Alright, alright. L: Dusk, L: It's okay. Open your eyes and see.

N?: It's over. N: It'd be nice if more of us showed up next year. CY: Any more of us and the Sui Regulator is going to start raising a fuss. L: True~ D: I'll skip next time. N: We had such a nice mood going on, couldn't you guys at least try to not kill it? L: Yes, this is nice once in a while.

D: There's nothing special about playing house. CY: Even playing house is nice sometimes. CY: That's why we've gathered here today. CY: Happy new year. L: Happy new year~ N: Happy new year! D: … Happy new year.

N: Alright, we've mostly cleaned our plates and eaten and drunk our fill. N: That leaves one last question. N: Who's doing the dishes? N: Hey, now you're all quiet? N: Hey!!

[seeminglydark]

Idk if this means anything to you but I'm a comic artist who's had a hard time doing art for a few years. The first four was because of life hardship and lack of time/chronic pain, but now lately I've had time but a mental block. I'm creeping up on 30 and felt bad about myself for "missing out" on my opportunity to be a comic artist. It was really validating to see you post about being 41 (correct me if I'm wrong) especially since you have such wonderful comics that I've been following for a while now. It makes me feel less like I'm wasting my time putting my things in order when I "should" be drawing.

Hopefully this doesn't come across as offensive or anything. It was just comforting and validating. Anyway, big fan! Love your characters a whole lot and hope you have a good day!

Dear Anon

I am 41 years old. I have wanted to make comics my entire life. before my dad got sick, and my childhood kinda fell apart, all i did was draw. after that, i used the stories in my head to cope. life moved on. i was convinced not to accept a partial scholarship to an art school in California. life got hard. i worked at a hotel, and after i escaped an abusive relationship at 22 i hitchhiked/bused far far away to start over. i tried to make comics again, but i had to survive, and so i got another job doing the only thing i knew how to do, hotels. and i worked. and worked. and life got harder and times got heavier and i didn't get time to draw and i worked double hours, 15 to 17 hours a day. and i went four years without drawing a single thing.

i kept working myself into the ground. i was 29 now. i picked up a pen again and drew a red haired boy. he had a hard life and no love and no friends. his problems were on the outside, for everyone to see. he ran away but his problems went with him.

i was 32. surely i was too old now. my time to be an artist was gone. i had no school. no hope. i was so far behind the younger gen i saw online. i cried. all the time. i wrote stories in my email drafts while i worked shifts. i stayed up late trying to learn how to draw again. i cried some more. the boy grew. i called him Fiach. worthy. a raven. later i renamed him Avery. he was like a bird, he had wings, he was my hope. i started writing some friends for him. the people i wished i had around me.

i started finding time and space. i got a new job, something where i was lucky enough to set my own hours. for the first time i had a partner who believed in me. things were hard. but i was drawing now. and that helped.

i went on a road trip and i started drawing pages of an unnamed story on 6 by 8 paper in a sketchbook. i drew 20 of them. 'what could i call this?' i thought. Nothing Seems as Dark...no says my partner. Seemingly Dark. he made me a logo. i was 35. i bought an ipad, i cant do this on paper, its too much story i have too much to say. so i learned how to draw digitally by tracing my own trad art pages.

I spoke to my dad for the last time on June 17th, fathers day that year. he said 'you're good. i'm proud. and you're gonna do amazing things. none of this is your fault. and we will speak again soon.' i didn't know id never hear his voice again. he died a week later.

i turned 36. i kept trying. i'm old, i don't understand the internet. how can i share this?

i stumbled across Lore Olympus. i was introduced to webcomics. id read comics online before but the thought never occurred to me. i opened an account on Tapas. and then i stared at it. what if no one likes it. what if its bad. my art isn't good. i should wait til i'm better. but will i ever really be better? or will i always believe that tomorrow is better? do it now. if even one person gets something out of this story, this story about a boy who is you, a boy who looking for hope, a boy who might make it, then that is enough isn't it.

June 17th 2018 i launched Seemingly Dark.

SD's five year anniversary is in a week. 0ver 700 pages. leaps and bounds in progress with my skills. a printed comic under my belt as of monday. i was always a storyteller. but i was always an artist too.

I am 41 years old, dear anon. I did not truly embark on this journey til i was 35. life got in the way. even now, chronic illness gets in the way. but its worth it. its never ever too late. i believe in you the way my dad believed in me. i reset my life again and again. but I was always an artist. and if thats who you are, and who you want to be, even if things dont go the way you wished they could, you're an artist too.

im 41 years old. i speak about my age, even though i often feel too old to belong in spaces, cuz really, in this case age is just a number. take care of yourself. do what you need to do. and little by little, when your able, carve out your space until it becomes more of a habit. sometimes i think about all the years i lost not drawing or creating. but there's a lot of factors that make me believe had i made my story then, it wouldn't be the story it is now, i needed to live a bit. i needed to find myself. i know this was long, but i just wanted you to see i also had to put my life in order, and getting notes like this reminds me it wasnt at all a waste. im glad i could offer you some comfort. thats honestly the best compliment i could ever receive.

TL;dR I was 35 when i sat down and seriously started making comics, because life always got in the way and so did my confidence. i always feared being too old. im 41 now, still going strong.

[mosneakers]

Brick's Spooky Day party is in full swing. The atmosphere is alive with laughter and merriment and dancing under the full moon light. Occasional howls emanating from the thick woods of Moonwood Mill, and the deep pulsating beat of the eerie spooky-themed music, send waves of anxiety-induced nausea through Skye Darling's tummy. She considers leaving early.

Selene dances entrancingly around the grassy field as if no one's watching, yet every movement is calculated to capture Lou's feral attention. Their eyes occasionally meet, and with each glance a magnetic pull intensifies. Lou, torn between the painful rumors of her involvement with Brick Darling, and the irresistible force pulling him closer, as if the moon itself is guiding him, decides to push aside his uncertainties and finally say something to her.

Lou: Love the costume...

Selene: [Chuckles] Thanks. You make a pretty convincing pizza boy, yourself! I thought mine was a little on the nose, actually. Lou: Nah, it's perfect—it's very fitting, hah. Anyway, just wanted to say thanks for inviting us, by the way. Selene: Hey, thank Brick. It was all his idea. I just helped him set it all up. He's really trying to build bridges between the communities.

Lou: [Nods gently] Right, I'll be sure to do that. Well whoever's idea it was, I'm glad I made it out, this is a nice party. Looks good. Selene: [Smiles] It's good to see you, Lou— Lou: —Good to see you too. Real good. You look happy. I'm glad you found someone to make you happy, Lenie.

Selene: What? You mean Brick? [Laughs] No, I'm not -with- Brick. We just help each other out from time to time. But we're just friends. In fact, Brick's on a mission to find his fated mate, and I'm supposed to be his wing-wolf tonight, haha.

Lou's eyes widen impulsively. A stifled, shaky exhale of relief slips passed his lips and and a broad grin appears as he tries to play it cool.

Lou: Oh! Cool, cool. Very cool. And how's that going?

Meanwhile, on the other side of the empty grassy lot, Wolfegang approaches Brick with a curious grin. Wolfegang: Hey big guy. [Hearty pat on shoulder] Nice party. Brick: Ayy, thanks man! Glad you could make it. Your costume is siiick. You make a way better pizza guy than Lou's version. Wolfegang: [Blinks slowly] Thanks, brother. Hey, quick question. That young lady hanging out with your cousin... I don't believe I've had the honor of meeting her... Happen to know her name? Brick: Oh her? That's Janie. [Cocks eyebrow] Pretty, huh?

Wolfegang: Pretty? Brick, please, my brother in Wolfhood... [clears throat] From the moment I caught but a glimpse of her eyes in pale moonlight, as she twirled with a carefree and insouciant charm, I found myself ensnared in an irresistible magnetic pull, a force from which I am yet to break free. Her scent alone has my head spinning. I simply cannot be any more clear, I have never encountered a woman like her in all of my years. Brick, my lupine comrade, forgive my directness, but I must inquire: Is she a romantic interest of yours? Your fated mate, perhaps?

Brick: ... I don't know yet, dude. I haven't tested things out with her to get that "special feeling" everyone keeps talking about. Wolfegang: I would hate to step on your toes, friend, but I would be forever grateful to you, if you could introduce me to this enigmatic soul. Brick: [Laughter] Bro what? Why you so worried about stepping on my toes? I wore my work boots. But yeah dude, I can introduce you. You always this weird when you make a new friend?

[snarkylinda]

Spencer, babygirl, I know you don't feel proud about that because you are really sweet and outside the team you have the social and emotional intelligence of a pineapple and the (mental) stability of a fucking building in Santiago Chile, but this is what we say in this situation: "Yes, she was pregnant- pregnant with the baby she tried to convince me she made while raping me when I was high against's my will- but don't worry the baby wasn't mine, it was the security guard that sent me to the normal wing of prison- oh yeah that! after using her partner to get me high against my will, she killed this woman, incriminated ME, sent me to prison for 3 months where I barely, BARELY survived and came out changed forever- also the day I came out? was when she decided to kidnap and almost KILL my mentally ill mother"

And if Max SOMEHOW sees you as the bad guy in this situation, fetus or not, throw her out of your life, now. I'll buy you the chocolate ice cream and sad movies myself, because this is not a "if he breaks your stuff imagine what he can do to your face, sis" situation, is a "this is what the absolute limit of a human being can be" situation.

Fuck around and find out, if you will.

[vassia-sparta]

Daemon Targaryen x OC (Stark)

So, this is my way of coping until the new season of House of the Dragon is released.

Synopsis: After Daemon is wounded during a patrol with the City Watch, how will his Stark wife react?

This is a oneshot, and contains adult themes, so anyone under 18, please do not read.

You have been warned!

Also, POV is from the OC.

Enjoy!

I had been having tea with the Queen and a few of her ladies, when word came that my husband had returned from his patrol down in the city. That was not the concerning part though.

“I heard from one of the men of the City Watch that he was wounded my lady,” the servant girl stuttered. “Wounded seriously.”

I got up from my seat, hastily made my apologies to the Queen, then made my way out of her chambers and down the many corridors, passing by a lot of nobles and servants, ignoring their enquiries and whispers, hurrying to reach our rooms.

I could hear my husband’s screams and curses all the way down the corridor that led to our wing of the keep. That put me a bit at ease, so I slowed down my pace, coming to stand right outside the entrance to our bedchambers.

“He is in a bad state my lady,” ser Frederick Selwyn, his second in command, said to me when he saw me. “He is wounded, but he is in too much pain to let the maesters sew up his wound. They suggest we try to give him something to sleep so they can help him, but he won’t let us.”

“I see,” I nodded, going through the half-open door, pausing when I heard another string of curses coming out of his mouth as he tossed a vial of something the maester gave him. The thing crashed against the wall, coating it with whatever salve was inside it.

“I will not be drinking anything you grey sheep want to give me,” the Rogue Prince yelled, turning away from the poor maester. He was one of the newer ones, barely three months here in the capital. Two of his acolytes stood in the corner, their wide eyes watching Daemon’s every move.

“My prince, you have to listen to the maesters,” ser Marwyn Westerling, one of Daemon’s close friends, tried to reason with him, but the Rogue Prince wouldn’t listen.

“I don’t have to listen to any of them,” my husband raged. “I am fine, I just need to rest a bit.”

I could see at least one wound on his right side, though it was a small one, and another on his left shoulder, bigger and deeper, both bleeding. His tunic was soaked through with blood, and yet he still didn’t want the help of the maesters. I knew well that his stubbornness would be his undoing. He’d rather die than let someone help him.

“Everyone, please leave,” I called out in a clam voice.

The maester jumped at the sound of my voice. He must have been scared out of his mind, after coming face to face with an irritated and wounded Targaryen prince.

“My lady,” he approached me, his voice dropping to a whisper, “if we don’t treat your husband’s wounds, he will bleed out.”

“I will take care of my husband, you can go now,” I assured him, giving him my best serene smile.

The men hesitated for a moment, but one look at the wounded dragon warrior was more than enough to convince them to leave. They knew better than to force their luck with him.

Ser Marwyn hesitated at the door, but I just smiled politely at him, nodding that I would be fine.

When the door closed, leaving us alone in the room, I turned to face my husband. He had sat down on one of the chairs near the balcony, breathing heavily.

“Rough day?” I simply asked, making my way to a nearby table, pouring a glass of his favorite strongwine before I walked up to him.

“Nothing a dragon cannot handle, she-wolf,” he spat, taking the glass from me and downing it all in one go.

I smiled to myself, amazed at how he would continue this little game we had going on ever since we were forced into this marriage. He would call me she-wolf, and I’d call him rogue dragon. We both refused to use each other’s name, if only to irritate each other. It worked, on both sides.

“Well, it seems this time the rogue dragon has bitten a little more than he can handle,” I nodded at the wound on his shoulder.

“This?” he wiped at it with his hand, wincing a bit as he touched it. “This is a lover’s caress,” he smirked, his eyes glinting with sass.

“Well, your lover has some pretty sharp nails,” I smirked back at him, unfazed by his barb. “What did you do, did you tell her that you found someone else and won’t be fucking her anymore?”

He looked up at me, his eyes wide.

“That is no way a lady should be talking,” he warned me.

“But I’m not a lady,” I reminded him. “We have long since established that I’m merely a she-wolf,” I shrugged, taking his glass to refill it.

As he drank his second glass, I went to a basin of water and drenched a piece of cloth in it. I made my way to him, then started to clean his skin from all the blood.

“Fuckin’ piece of work, he caught me by surprise,” Daemon muttered, leaning back his head and closing his eyes.

“Ambush?” I questioned, taking extra care around the wounds. The one on his side had stopped bleeding, it wouldn’t need stitching, but the one on his shoulder, that was another story. Whoever had hit him, it had gotten him good.

“That cunt was hiding behind a corner, with an axe at hand. Went right through my armor, would have taken my head off if not for ser Strong.”

“Why would someone attack you for no reason?” I questioned, walking up to the basin to rinse off the cloth. The water turned pink, darkening every time I dipped the cloth back in.

“Not like I have a great army of friends in the city. I probably killed one of his gang buddies or something, sliced his brother’s hand for stealing, cut his best friend’s dick for sticking it where he shouldn’t have, the list could go on and on,” Daemon shrugged, wincing as his wound gushed some more blood.

“Yet people still call you the Prince of the City and cheer for you at every tourney,” I reminded him, trying to clean his other wound. “Surely you must have some who like you, especially around the Street of Silk,” I smirked at him.

He looked up at me, his face growing serious. I didn’t know why he looked at me like that. It was no secret he was a frequent patron of the many brothels residing in the Street of Silk, both before our marriage and after. I ignored him, more focused on the task at hand.

After I finished cleaning his wounds, I took thread and needle, refilled his glass, then set out to stitch him up.

“Better drink that, this will hurt a bit,” I warned him as I threaded the needle and approached him.

He focused those dark violet orbs on me, and I found myself having trouble breathing for a moment.

I always had that reaction when Daemon looked at me like that. From the moment I first laid eyes on him, that fateful day at the throne, just before my father and king Viserys had announced that we were to be wed, the Rogue Dragon had stared at me with such intensity, I might as well had burst into flames right there. The weirdest part was, I had liked it. I wanted his attention. And he seemed to appreciate my presence, licking his lips as he eyed me up and down. It should have felt wrong, but deep inside me, I was thrilled that I appealed to him.

Alas, that had lasted all but a few moments. After the betrothal was announced, a surprise for him if according to his shocked expression, Daemon turned colder than the Wall itself. During one of the walks we were forced to take in order to ‘get to know each other better’, he made it clear to me that he had no intention of marrying me, but he was merely doing it because his brother forced him too.

Any hopes I had of a happy marriage vanished in a moment. Rumors of his previous marriage had of course reached me, but my father had assured me that I would be different. I was nothing like lady Rhea. I was the daughter of the North, lady Lara of house Stark, daughter of the Warden of the North and one of the prettiest maidens in all the Seven Kingdoms, as some would say. Yet, none of that mattered to Daemon Targaryen. He never acted according to rules set by others. He always followed his own rules, the others be damned. After that walk, he didn’t spend one second around me, preferring to spend his nights with his friends and his whores in the various winesinks of the city.

The night of our wedding, he came to my room and made it clear that he had no intention of bedding me, nor would he ever touch me. This marriage was forced upon him, and he had no desire to consummate it. It was a knife in my heart, a complete destruction of any dream I had for my marriage. I was not silly. As a noble woman and daughter of a great house, I was expected to marry for political or diplomatic reasons. Yet, I hoped that, maybe whoever I had to marry would at least make the effort to get to know me, and then he’d try to make this marriage work.

No. Not the Rogue Prince. He continued with his nights in the brothels and the training of his men, as if our marriage had not happened. I had to endure the whispers and gossip of the ladies at court, maintain a calm demeanor, while the wolf inside me howled with fury. At some point, I had fallen in love with my heartless husband, and therefore was doomed to suffer a marriage to a man that would never want me.

Many had suggested that I follow lady Rhea’s example and go back to Winterfell, away from the whispers of the court and my husband’s cold behavior. It seemed enticing, I admit, but I rejected the idea. I was not some measly girl that would run back to her parents in tears. I was a wolf, and I would show everyone that I was not afraid in the face of hard times.

Life went on and now, almost a year after our marriage, Daemon and I had settled in a sort of routine. We both avoided each other during the day, but made sure to keep a united front against our common enemies during assemblies or feasts. He never slept in our shared chambers, but was at my side whenever anyone tried to get a rise out of our situation and make a fool out of me.

Chief amongst those who sought to humiliate this marriage was Lord Otto Hightower, the King’s Hand. Gosh, how I hated that man. It was the one thing Daemon and I shared. Our disgust at the upstart lord from the Reach who sought to rule the Seven Kingdoms while trying to move the King around like a puppet.

It was during a banquet that Daemon and I first realized that we had that in common. We were celebrating the birth of prince Aemond, the second son of the king and the slimy lord Hand had the audacity to come to our table, baby Aemond in his arms.

“Such a delight that the king has another son to continue his legacy, isn’t it?” he had asked in that annoying voice of his.

“It is indeed my lord Hand,” I had agreed, trying to keep appearances. Daemon, on the other hand, didn’t deem it worthy to answer him.

“Perhaps you should make some effort to give a son to your husband my lady, it has been quite some time since your marriage, hasn’t it? Or has prince Daemon been keeping too busy with the City Watch?”

His comment and that sneer on his smug face made my blood boil, but I took a deep breath to calm myself down. Beside me, Daemon seemed ready to jump at him, but I took his hand in mine under the table, squeezing it slightly. He turned to look at me, a small surprise dancing in those dark purple eyes of his.

“My husband is doing his duty to his king, keeping the city clean of the criminals,” I replied calmly. “Perhaps you should do your duty and find a way to keep our people fed and busy, then maybe the people will stop stealing and murdering, and his talents with a sword won’t be needed so much.”

“Surely he can stop his patrols for a while to tend to you, right?” lord Otto turned to Daemon, and I felt my husband twitching to snatch the little weasel and crush him under his boots.

“I understand my husband’s duty, and I am patient. When the time comes, the Gods will bless us with a child,” I replied, still holding onto Daemon’s hand. Its warmth gave me strength, somehow.

“I did ask your husband to take one of my sons as his lieutenant, but it seems the Rogue Dragon is too proud to accept my help,” lord Otto sneered.

“Which of your sons, the one that runs after boys or the one that I squashed during my last tourney?” Daemon smirked at his adversary.

Lord Otto looked furious, but didn’t say anything.

“The City Watch needs soldiers with extraordinary fighting skills and the guts to do what is needed,” I intervened, not wanting to cause a scene in the middle of the banquet. “Who better to fill that post than the finest warrior of the Seven Kingdoms? I am sad to say that, according to rumors, neither of your sons are known for their prowess my lord,” I smiled sweetly at him. “Wasn’t it ser Gwayne who lost in the training yard yesterday, after ser Harwin smashed him to the ground two minutes into the fight?” I turned to Daemon.

“Why yes it was,” he smiled at me, that teasing smile that could make a septa give in to him. “The poor thing was on his back bleeding, when ser Strong had barely touched him. I assure you my lord, if I took him with me to the patrols, he’d run back to you in tears an hour into the service. How did he earn his spurs, I’ll never understand.”

Daemon turned to smirk at his adversary, his eyes shining with glee. “Then again, you were never known for your skill in the battlefield, am I right? Perhaps your sons took after you.”

The weasel looked furious, but didn’t say anything. After he left, I let go of Daemon’s hand, conscious of how long I had held on to it.

That night, as I was making my way to our bedchambers, I found him waiting for me outside.

“Something wrong my prince?” I questioned, confused as to why he was here this late at night.

“Why did you defend me?” he asked, straight to the point. His face was devoid of any teasing of playful tone. It was the most serious I had seen him since our wedding day.

His question took me by surprise.

“Why not? You are my husband after all,” I shrugged, pushing the door open.

“That is no reason to defend me,” he insisted, following me inside.

“Then I don’t know what to tell you my prince,” I shrugged, sitting before my mirror to take down the elaborate braids my maid had woven my hair into for the night.

“What do you have against him? The Hand never moved against you or your house. Why would you side with me?”

I sighed, the tiredness of the evening making me antsy.

“Look,” I got up to face him. “You might ignore it, but the fact remains that we are married. And though that is no reason to defend you, I do recognize that you do fine work with your men all around the city. You do what you were born to do, wield a sword and swing it on those who deserve to die. The Hand is too proud to understand that, and he decided to make fun of us and our marriage right to my face, in order to get a rise out of you and humiliate me. That is low, even for him.” I turned away, reaching for my hair brush.

“You could have kept quiet,” Daemon suggested.

“We are married my prince,” I looked at him sternly. “That makes you part of my family. I don’t let weasels like him hurt my family.”

Daemon stood there for a while, penetrating me with his sharp gaze.

“Good night my lady,” he nodded lightly, then turned to leave without another word.

From that day on, he became just a tad kinder to me, and I even caught him staring at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. Just as he was doing now.

I pushed my anxiety deep down, and focused on the task at hand. I cut the tunic off of him, leaving his muscular chest bare.

“Are you ready?” I asked him.

“Go on,” he merely replied, taking another sip of his wine.

I came to stand beside him, then started the slow and painful process. I tried to keep the stiches as small as possible, to keep the wound from scarring terribly. I could see several scars on his muscular back and chest, remnants from the battles he had participated in. He was a true warrior, more comfortable in a bloody battlefield fighting his enemies, than in a palace full of courtiers, playing the game of thrones.

In a way, I understood his discomfort. He was a wild creature, preferring to do what he wanted over what was forced upon him. I too longed to be free to do as I wished, but my sense of duty forbade me from acting on my desires.

Halfway through the stitching, Daemon had consumed his fourth glass of wine, and looked a bit drunk. His eyes shined, and his face had turned a slight pink. He kept his gaze on me as I worked on him, and I tried my best not to flinch. This was the first time I had been so close to him for so long, and the fact that he was half naked only added to my discomfort.

Though I had never known the touch of a man, I was no stranger to what went on between a man and a woman behind closed doors. Prior to my wedding, some of my lady friends, the more scandalous ones, had dragged me into a secret corridor that led to a sort of observation deck. Hidden behind a wooden panel, we watched as two servants used an old storage room to house their secret affair. I still remembered the things that man did to his lover. How he used his mouth, his hands, his whole body to give pleasure to the young woman. I wanted to feel that, what it was like to be in a man’s arms, to be wanted, to be pleasured.

It was no secret that Daemon knew his way around a woman’s body. His many adventures in the city’s brothels spoke volumes. Many a night I had wondered what it would feel like to be in his arms, and the frustration only made my heart and my body ache more for his touch. And now here I was, as close to him as I would ever be, touching his naked skin with my fingers. So close, and yet so far away.

I was so focused on keeping my mind from focusing on our proximity, that I didn’t even realize it when Daemon spoke to me.

“What?” I uttered, my cheeks flaming in embarrassment. My mind had been traveling in paths too improper for a noble lady to consider. And yet, being so close to my beautiful husband, I couldn’t help but wonder.

“I asked, why are you taking care of me?” he said, his voice so rough, it felt like a rumble of a distant thunderstorm.

“You are my husband Daemon, that is my duty,” I sighed, tying off the end of the thread, securing the stitches.

“My previous wife did not feel inclined to treat me when I got hurt,” he commented.

“Your previous wife was not me,” I retorted, feeling hurt. How could he really compare me to his first wife, when he had not even made the attempt to get to know me better?

I turned away, reaching for the salve on the table beside him. I had to lean over him to take the small jar, and felt his chest touching mine as he breathed.

I took a small amount of salve and rubbed it on the wound, trying to keep my touch as light as possible so as to not hurt him.

“Why do you do this?” he whispered, making me pause.

I chucked softly.

“Though I do like black, mourning does not suit me my dear husband,” I shook my head, trying to brush off his question.

“I’m serious,” he growled, his arm wrapping around my thighs, trapping me in place.

“So am I,” I threw back at him, reaching down to rub salve on the wound on his side. I massaged it softly, helping the salve be absorbed by his skin, while trying to keep my mind from enjoying the softness of it, the strength that I could feel underneath my fingertips.

He let me go as I put the jar away and took the roll of bandages to tie off his wound. He leaned forward, letting me wrap the soft cloth around him, making sure both wounds were properly protected before I secured the end of the cloth.

I took a clean cloth and started cleaning the dirt and blood that was spattered on his face. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the cool cloth on his brow before he turned to look at me once more.

“Why do you tolerate all this?” Daemon asked, wrapping his arm around me once more, making my heart beat wildly in my chest.

“As I told you before, you are my husband Daemon,” I sighed, looking at him. “Whether we like it or not, we are bound together. For better or for worse, we are destined to move forward in life, until one of us is claimed by the Gods. By the looks of it, you will not be claimed any time soon. Now, can you let me go, I need to find you a new tunic to wear, and I’ll have to give my dress to the washers and hope they can salvage it.”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he replied immediately, still keeping me pressed up against him.

“No need for that my rogue dragon, I can dye it if it doesn’t wash out. Perhaps a deep purple, like your eyes when you get angry,” I smiled, pushing a strand of hair that had fallen over his face while I treated him.

With a swift move of his other hand he pulled my face towards his, crushing his lips against mine. He took me completely by surprise, and my gasp gave him the opening he needed. His tongue slipped in my mouth, deepening the kiss and setting my insides on fire.

He pulled my legs from under me, making me land on his lap, never breaking our kiss. I yelped in surprise, but that only made him chuckle as he resumed his attack on my lips. I was completely stunned, too overwhelmed by the sensations to think rationally, so I just slipped my hand behind his neck, holding onto him as he ravaged my mouth.

We broke off for air, but I didn’t have the chance to say anything. He set me on my feet again, though I was glad he kept his hold on me. I wasn’t sure I could stand on my own, my legs felt too unsteady to support me.

Daemon slipped his hands low, never breaking eye contact with me, and pulled the hem of my dress up to my thighs, exposing my legs to the light breeze coming from the open windows. I stood still holding on to the back of his chair, breathing heavily as I felt his hand pull my leg over his lap, whispering words that sent a shiver all the way from my head to my toes.

“Ride me my wolf.”

I obeyed his command, lowering myself onto his lap. Even over my underclothes and his breeches, I could feel him, hot and hard, poking at me. I gasped sharply, clenching my legs around him.

“See what you do to me my she-wolf?” he whispered, caressing my legs lazily.

He nuzzled my neck, peppering it with hot kisses.

“Daemon,” I gasped, feeling so overwhelmed. I had no idea what was happening, but I was too weak to put an end to it.

“I like this, you moaning my name like that,” he purred, reminding me of the sounds Caraxes made when he was around his rider. He might be the most feared dragon amongst those in the Pit, but he was putty in his master’s hands.

Just like I was.

I barely realized it when I started rocking against him, trying to find some relief in the strange feeling I had between my legs. Was this what a woman felt when she was in the arms of her lover?

I paused, not sure what it was I felt at the moment.

Daemon pulled back to gaze at me when he felt me stop moving.

“What is it?” he whispered, his eyes watching me carefully.

“What are we doing Daemon?” I asked, my voice barely audible. I was afraid that, if I spoke any louder, the spell would be broken, and the moment would end. I didn’t want it to end.

“What does it feel like we’re doing?” he smirked, pushing his hips slightly at me, making his intentions obvious. “Don’t you want it?”

“I do, by the Gods I do,” I groaned as he resumed his attack on my neck, descending lower, nuzzling at my bosom while his fingers made quick work of the lacings on the front of my dress.

“Then stop thinking too much about it, and just let yourself go. Let the wolf go free,” he whispered, and the darkness in his eyes made something inside me snap.

I was the one that attacked him this time, searching for his lips as if I was roaming the desert and he held the last of the water in his mouth.

His fingers finally untied my lacings, and he pushed at my dress, letting fall to the ground. I was left in my thin shift and underclothes.

He went for my braid then, releasing my long hair from the ties I had secured them with. He pulled at my hair, not enough to hurt me, but enough to expose my neck to him. He nipped at my skin, marking it with his teeth before easing the bite with his tongue.

“Daemon,” I gasped, pulling at his hair myself.

He hissed, but the lust in his eyes told me all I needed to know. He got up from his chair, wrapping my legs around his waist as he carried me towards the huge bed not far from where we were.

He placed me softly on the soft sheets, hovering over me.

I pulled him for another earth-shattering kiss, and felt him slip his hand under my shift. He reached for my undergarments, pulling at it sharply, ripping it to shreds.

He attacked my neck again, almost rutting against me, and I thought I was going to explode from lust.

“Gods,” I moaned, pulling at him, trying to get some relief on the ache I felt between my legs.

Daemon chuckled.

“I know some of the smallfolk think we descend from the ancient Gods of Valyria, but I never thought a northerner would believe the same thing.”

“You cocky bast-” I started to protest, only to be silenced by the feel of his fingers enter me.

“Ah, so that’s how I can get you to stop talking,” my husband chuckled huskily, giving me another of those fiery kisses.

I couldn’t reply, let alone form any coherent thought. Whatever he was doing to me with those fingers, it lit a fire in my whole body, a fire I never wanted to get out of.

A pressure started building low in my belly and I started panting, as if I was trying to run a long distance.

“Come my little wolf, howl for me,” Daemon whispered to my ear, and it was all I needed. The knot that had been writhing in my belly suddenly burst, and I saw white stars explode behind my eyelids. An amazing sensation engulfed me, and I felt as if I was flying.

Daemon continued to caress me, prolonging this feeling, until I could take it no more. Then, he withdrew his fingers from my core, raising his torso a bit to take a look at me.

I couldn’t imagine what I looked like from his perspective. Panting, with my hair wild, my skin flushed, and my legs spread before him as if I… as if he and I had just…

I dared to open my eyes to look at him, and was rewarded with a hungry look that rekindled the fire in my belly. He looked at me as if I was his next meal.

As if he could read my thoughts, Daemon licked his lips, giving me another of his signature smirks before he reached for my shift. He pulled it over my head, leaving me completely bare before him. I had the greatest urge to try and cover myself, but I knew that would not please him.

“My little wolf,” he crooned, leaning down to kiss me, softer this time. “That was no true howl. Even after what we did, you still hold back. It seems I have to use other methods to let the wild beast free.”

I didn’t have the time to ask him what he meant before he burned a trail of kisses from my lips, to my neck, to the sensitive skin between my breasts, down to my belly and, before I could stop him, right between my legs.

“Daemon, what are you doing?” I dared to ask him, still dizzy from our previous tryst.

“Feasting on my darling she-wolf wife,” he winked at me cheekily, before descending upon my mound.

I moaned loudly as I felt him lap at my cunt, licking like a cat devouring a bowl of cream. I couldn’t control the sounds that left my mouth, nor my hips from moving as close to that torturous mouth as I could get them.

His mouth closed around something down there that made me scream, asking him, begging him not to stop. His fingers entered me once more, and the feeling was even better than before. I bunched up the sheets with my hands, trying to find a way to anchor myself to reality. There was no way this was happening to me. Another jolt of pleasure shook me whole, and the divine feeling shattered my body once more, sending me crashing towards oblivion.

I barely realized that the moans echoing around the room came from my mouth. What was happening to me? This was nothing like what those servants had done in the storage closet. The man hadn’t treated his lover like this, nor had she moaned the way I was right now. Was this a different way for a man and a woman to be united?

I didn’t realize I had closed my eyes until I heard Daemon’s voice, calling to me as if he stood far away.

“Lara,” he whispered, now leaning over me once again. His voice sounded like velvet, and my name coming from his lips like that was the sweetest thing I had ever heard.

I couldn’t reply to him, only gaze at his perfect face, all sweaty and… Was all that wetness around his mouth from me, from my…

“Want to taste your desire my wolf?” he asked, and the flames rekindled in me once more.

I knew I should be disgusted. What decent noble lady would dare to do such a vulgar thing? Those were things that only whores would do, and only because they got paid for it.

But I wanted it. I wanted to taste my desire, mixed with his taste. And I wanted it now.

I reached for him, uniting our lips in a sloppy, wet and absolutely amazing kiss that had me reeling. I moaned at the sweet and at the same time salty taste that exploded in my mouth, and licked at his tongue, wanting more.

He groaned deeply, and I felt something poke at my cunt, something long, hand and hot. I had been so lost, I didn’t even realize when he had taken off his breeches and now was as naked as I was, hovering over me. Daemon rubbed his cock at my folds a few times, then pushed in me, slowly, giving my time to adjust to him.

This new feeling had me gasping. It felt uncomfortable at first, but I was so wet, he slid in easily. I felt him fill me, bit by bit, until he paused.

I pulled back to complain but, before I could, he shushed me with his finger.

“This will hurt a bit at first, but I promise you, it is worth it. Are you ready?”

I didn’t dare speak, only nodded, trusting those dark eyes with my body, my soul and my heart.

With a snap of his hips, Daemon broke through my maidenhead, and I felt as if someone was slicing me in half. I yelped in pain, tears falling from the corners of my eyes. Daemon kissed them away, whispering to me that the hardest part was over. He stilled his motions, giving me little kisses to distract me from my pain.

And indeed, after a while, the pain faded away, leaving only pleasure, and a need for more.

I tried to move my hips, to get more of this feeling, and Daemon groaned over me. He started pushing further in, filling me to the brim with his cock. He pulled back, almost completely, only to slam back in me with a powerful move.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” I begged him, moving with him, trying to get more, more, more.

His hands grabbed hold of my thighs, pulling me towards him, driving into me faster, harder.

I pulled him down for another kiss, this one the hottest of them all. He was on fire, as was I. I didn’t care. I wanted him to burn me, own me, destroy me in every way. I was his, and he was mine. Nothing else mattered.

Daemon quickened his pace, his pants echoing along with my moans all over the room. This time, the knot in my belly was tighter than I had felt the previous times, and I wanted to scream, to let the whole castle, maybe even the whole city know what Daemon was doing to me. I wanted everyone to know that I was his, and he was mine.

His pace became frantic, and I felt as if I was going to explode from pleasure.

“Let go my love,” he gasped, pinning me with his violet gaze. “Let yourself go wild, let go.”

The sound of his voice, those words, the way he looked at me, it was all too much. One last snap of his hips and I was gone, screaming his name for all to hear. He growled, a loud and primal sound that only added to the passion between us. I felt him release his seed deep inside me, and I thought to myself that didn’t want this moment to end, ever.

--

I must have passed out from exhaustion, because the next thing I knew, I woke up with Daemon’s arms wrapped around me, my head resting on his muscular chest. I lay there for a moment, listening to his strong heartbeat, trying to accept what had happened between us. I was no longer a lone wolf. I had given myself, body and soul, to my dragon. That thought both excited and terrified me.

What if, now that he had performed his duty and made me his wife in every way, possibly planting his seed in me, he decided to go back to his old ways, and spend his nights away from me, in the company of his whores?

The thought was like a knife in my heart. It would devastate me if, after a taste of his fire, he turned cold once more. I didn’t know if I could handle it.

I slipped out of his arms, wrapping myself with a sheet and made my way to the balcony. Night had fallen, and it looked to be about midnight, the moon already high in the sky. I stood at the very end of the stone balcony, taking in the peaceful atmosphere of the night. It felt soothing, calming my nerves a bit.

I tried to think of the worst that could happen. If Daemon decided to go back to his whores and ignore me, I would have to continue pretending as nothing was amiss, keeping myself deaf to the whispers of the other courtiers. No doubt our night together was already known to the entire castle. There was no way the servants or the guards had not heard us. They would speak to each other about it behind my back, giggling and commenting how the wolf had not managed to tame the dragon after all, and mock me every time Daemon spent his nights in the Street of Silk.

My only comfort, the only reason to keep myself together, was if I had managed to get pregnant from tonight. If I had, Daemon would have his heir, and I would have someone to give my love to. I didn’t care if I gave birth to a boy or a girl. All I wanted was a child, something to remind me of the one and only night my husband had touched me, had been with me as a man should be with his wife.

My mind was so preoccupied with all those dark thoughts, I didn’t hear the silent footsteps behind me. Two strong arms were wrapped around me, warming me from the night’s chill.

“Why did you leave our bed love?” Daemon whispered, kissing me lightly on my shoulder.

My heart fluttered at the little nickname he used. Could he really mean it?

“I wanted to see the moon,” I lied, lifting my gaze to the almost round glowing orb.

“Ah, my little she-wolf, she wants to howl at the moon, does she?”

I giggled, turning to look at my husband. He looked so beautiful in the moonlight, his silver hair shining, the same color as the moon. He too had wrapped a sheet around his waist, leaving his chest bare. I was mesmerized by how soft and pale his skin looked under the moonlight.

“Wolves don’t howl at the moon,” I shook my head, twirling a strand of his hair with my fingers. “They howl to call out to their mate, communicate with them, let them know where they are.”

“That sounds romantic,” Daemon smiled at me.

“Yes, it is. Wolves only mate once in their lifetime, they never let anyone else near them if something happens to their mate.”

“So do dragons,” Daemon replied, caressing my face ever so gently.

Something in his eyes told me he wasn’t talking only about the dragons currently residing in the pit.

I stayed silent, wrapped in his arms. I had so many things to ask him, but I had no courage to do so. His answers could either make me the happiest woman in the world, or break my heart beyond repair.

“What are you thinking my wolf? I can almost hear your mind humming with how much you are thinking right now.”

“I… just try to think of what tomorrow might bring for me, for us,” I muttered, knowing that it was now or never. Might as well get it over with.

Daemon pulled back, his face scrunched in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you Daemon,” I sighed. “All this time we’ve been married, I’ve come to know a lot about you, even with the limited amount of time we’ve spent together. Ever since we got married, you made it very clear that you had absolutely no interest in me. But now, after tonight, things have changed between us. I… I have to ask. What do you intend to do from now on?”

Daemon lifted my chin, looking at me with those dark eyes I had come to love.

“What are you afraid of? What do you fear I’m going to do?”

I looked away, trying desperately to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.

“I fear that you will go back to what you used to do every night,” I said quietly, walking to the other end of the balcony. “Go out with your men, spend your time with other women, ignoring me, shunning our bed in favor of some lady of the night.”

My dragon approached me once more, pulling me into his embrace.

“My sweet, my lovely wife,” he sighed, leaning his head against mine, his forehead rubbing on the top of my head.

“Do you know how long I wanted to claim you, to hold you in my arms as we lay in our bed?”

I looked up at him, confused.

“Then why didn’t you, why did you treat me so coldly?” I demanded, hurt.

“Our marriage was arranged, just like my previous marriage. I was afraid, I thought you only agreed to this marriage to get into the royal family, to gain more power for your family, through me,” he sighed, his face turning sad. “I couldn’t let my heart be exposed, let my feelings out and get them crushed under your rejection. You were so cold, so formal with me, I had to keep my distance, to protect my heart.”

I could not believe what I was hearing. This great man, this famous warrior, the man who rode a fierce dragon with no fear, looked at me as if I might break him with a wrong move I made.

“I have not touched another woman, not for a while now, since that night that cunt Hightower tried to ridicule us both. I go out every night, looking for criminals to punish, using them to spend my frustration and fear, but I have not laid with another woman. None have touched me, nor have I touched them, this I swear to you.”

The sound of his words filled me with such happiness, I half-expected to burst from joy. I leaned and rubbed my forehead against his, smiling at how sweet he sounded.

“Your heart has nothing to fear from me my dragon, for you have my own heart in your hands. My heart, my body, my soul, my very being, it’s all yours, from this day, until the end of our days.”

My husband smiled, kissing me sweetly and deeply. I had no words to describe how I felt. I was no longer just me. We were one, connected in every way, body and soul.

“As I am yours my little wolf, in every way, until the end of our days, and beyond that,” he whispered, giving me little kisses around my mouth. "Come now, it’s getting cold out here, we’d better return to our bed.”

That night, we made sweet love to each other, not stopping until the sun’s rays broke over the nearby hills.

The next few days, several noble ladies I came across seemed to notice the bite marks my husband had left on my neck, but didn’t dare to ask me about them. They also didn’t dare to comment on the fact that, after his patrols around the city, Daemon returned to the castle every night, and the corridor outside our rooms echoed with our moans.

Nine moons after our first night together, I gave birth to a silver-haired boy. We named him Aemon.