#Castle: Home is Where the Heart Stops | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

controld3vil · 3 months

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the one

pairing: aegon ii targaryen x targ!reader

synopsis: thrown into madness, not one person can comfort the king of his thoughts. his sister wife left to deal with her grief. his mother for chooses not to heed his needs. his brother, gone in silver of the night. yet you, left forgotten stand in front of him, teary eyed.

notes: i gasped loud this episode!!

content warning: spoilers obvi for s2ep2, themes of grief and inferiority, targcest; if you are uncomfortable, please do not interact.

The death of Jaehearys exhausted you.

Nothing prepared you for the shock and emotional consequences. It felt as though a giant sea storm had swept away your emotions and feelings of sense. Because in a way, you felt numb and unable to comprehend what you were feeling. It was either too strong or your denial in it that made you feel out of it. In the confidence of your home, the grand kingdom of your father and his grandsire before, suddenly you feel apprehensive about where you resided and the castle itself. Who to trust and not as a moment noticed in your head as your mind spirals down a rabbit hole.

Your nephew, a kin of your own, was dead.

He was murdered in cold blood. In the sanctum of your home, in the privacy of the royal rooms. It was your fault you were not by Helaena’s side. Oh, your poor sister, the turmoil she must’ve endured in the small moments last with her son. A small piece of purity and semblance he brought into your little life and a beacon of what you strived for every day. Yet now, it has all turned to blood and dust. Used and tossed away like the sacs of bodies they would throw off dead soldiers in the aftermath of a tiring battle.

There you sat with a half cup of wine, undrank. You dared not step out of the chambers of your comfort. Not for long, your presence would be reminded of the council. You insist on every meeting that your presence would bestow better acquisition. In most eyes, the men divert their gaze from you.

In contrast, your wretched mother opens her mouth agape with hardly any words being supported. Your grandsire contrasts, always with an excuse that you should be needed elsewhere other than the higher discussion. How benign of you, dear granddaughter. But you are unfit for a position at court.

Otto Hightower would never speak those words directly. But you know in your heart and his intuition, the words are nearly there. You don’t need an interpreter to translate what is said by the councilmen. Even if they are unaware, you understand all that is said. A tragic incident, Your Grace. The Kingsguard are doing their best to inspect all the members in the castle as we speak.

“I will have it! They will pay for this!”

The dried tears that swept down your cheeks felt sticky and annoyingly guilt-ridden of the events that had happened. You would not allow them to witness them. They were not worthy of your sadness. In grace, you hiked your dress over your feet to climb up to the doors. From where you were, you could discern the murmurs of Aegon and his hysterical yelling, absolutely mad with anger and rage. Respectfully so, the loss of his child was an unexpected and stressful one.

When the chambers open, the rest of the councilmen stop for a moment. Before you begrudgingly make your way to the center. “Gentlemen,” You are at fault in giving away your tearful expression, the candlelight's of the chandeliers do your angelic features justice. And no noble would dare to speak upon its beauty and sorrow. All while, your lady in waiting, trails timidly behind you, head pointed down in respect. “Your Grace,” You address, and finally for a blind second, a glint of relief flashes on Aegon’s face. Finally, he must think, someone he trusts abides in the room.

“Princess,” The Hand levels his chin, leaving a steady foot of your unforeseen appearance. Beside him, your mother lays agape in both deary and fortification.

The Queen stumbles on the syllables of your name, quietly. As if she was citing a wrongful plea of desperation. “Is- Is Helaena?” Of course, the last she saw you was in her bed chambers, coming in to console your sweet sister and her child. Alicent was running amuck, pulling on the fabric of her dress to prevent you from witnessing her privacies before. Luckily you didn't have to witness that.

“She is with Ser Arryk and Jaeheara.” You breathed out, soft and mellow. You can tell by the exhale of your mother and grandsire's shoulders that deflating meant that their worries were at least accomplished. And a slight corner of your eye, your brother too relaxes in caution, aware of his wife and daughter’s whereabouts.

“Good good,” Alicent frantically nods as if trying to reassure herself that her child and granddaughter were safe. Ser Arryk was a noble knight, one who betrayed his twin to stay beside the king’s side. That alone was enough to prove his loyalty and servitude. “Thank you, my daughter.” You swallow with a gaping hole in your throat. The whole room felt the compacting of the many eyes directed at you and the Queen Mother.

“And what might be the reason for your intrusion on this council meeting, princess?” Otto’s voice somewhat triggers a fight or flight response in you. You’ve dealt with similar situations before, wanting to be included in the war business. However this was different, the council was discussing matters of potential betrayal and the killing of your kin. You suddenly felt targeted for the offense of interrupting something crucial and overriding.

However, you know you should have a say in this matter. “Shouldn’t I be present when the death of my nephew has been informed to me merely hours ago?” There was a snap in your voice that many of them knew. Though some such as your mother and brother were accustomed to that sound more often.

“Perhaps it is best if the princess were with the Queen to rest away comfort and grief,” Maester Orwyle suggests only to infuse your temper.

In a quick turn, your lilac orbs strike an alarming resemblance to vexation and hostility. “Why?” Your tone was sharp and accusing just as it was. The Queen Regent could only watch and stare mutely at your grueling pettiness. Lord Tyland and Ser Criston Cole dare not to look at you but at the maester. While Aegon, all the more slightly frustrated at Maester Orwyle’s comments, stops and waits for your dreadful retaliation like a venomous viper. Otto couldn’t look more disappointed in you.

“The death of your nephew is a tearful one, princess. And maybe you should stay within the quarters with the Queen for safety.” The maester does not falter in his reasoning, knowing how quick and ill-tempered you are similar to your brother was to retaliation. But his expression flickers in doubt shortly after you are seen to lay your palms on the edge of the end of the table. It’s hard wooden material, clenched tightly around your hands as you glance up at the councilman with fury in your eyes.

“I am more capable than you think of me, Maester Orwyle. And I would be damned to sit in silence and pity for this horrendous murder!” You snarl, a frown forming at the edges of your lips. You were livid beyond this. Only when you want to be present in the decisions regarding your kin, did the council decline your way. It’s insulting. “My nephew should be avenged! To whoever ordered the murder!”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” The Hand’s inclusion is an attempt to bring a truce between the others who felt your presence as much of a disturbance. “But we should not be hasty and leave every opportunity out in the open.”

“This is my son we are talking about,” Aegon’s hand came down with a thump on the table. He’s since calmed down but you know there is still rage in his heart. The fuel of it burning and churning for the desire to find and kill whoever brought out the murder. “We must search the grounds for traitors, find anyone who leaves the Red Keep, and capture them immediately!”

“Of course, Your Grace but we should consider what this would be for Rhaenyra,” Alicent reminds the room when she scans everyone’s thoughts and faces. On the other hand, you stand uncomfortably, with the sense of your legs growing numb.

“That bitch queen of bastards will pay!” The King screams, pointing with an accusative finger. “She is on her throne, laughing at me for this! For the death of my son, I want her dead!” It’s like a fire has been lit in your brother’s mind. It flashes and flickers rapidly as he manages to strike and spit out outrage of his growing vengeance on the Black Queen. However quick his temper simmers and rises.

The coming morning of Jaehaerys funeral drags his body to the Sept to be burnt in Targaryen tradition. More importantly, it is to sway the people’s opinion of Aegon’s claim and blame Rhaenyra for the tragic death. Spurs of propaganda flourish in the crowds as the chariot drags the casket of the fresh body, followed by the Queen and her Regent. What felt like discomfort and suffocation for Helaena only her no semblance through the entire morning. She is grieving and mourning in her own way. No one can understand the loss of a mother of her children. It is the tragedy she has felt for the first time and it stings her to her stomach. For most of the ride, Helaena could not breathe or look at the folk people, afraid of what they might do. She’d never left the Keep like this before, presented all fragile and glorious as the new Queen officially.

Even so, she knows you are more suited for the role. Helaena has thought of it many times where you should’ve been wife to Aegon instead of her. She knows why her mother and grandsire chose her. It was because she was compliant and willing to do her duty as a lady wife. While you had no sense of duty. More or less, so did Aegon but at least she would elevate his image as King with her kind personality.

“Helaena,” You spoke, interrupting her thoughts amid her sewing. Your sister pauses and then looks at the piece she has been working on. It was a picture of purple lily flowers, something you had mentioned wanting to see from the grounds of the Highgarden. She thinks of you and subconsciously starts to sew a new patch of thread. She’s sweet to you like that, and you forever cherished that side of her. And it's a shame her softened voice always now came with a stutter and droop of a sob.

Helaena wakes up from her daze and greets you with a warm yet sombreros smile. “You are well?” The question itself leaves bitterness off of your tongue because you should be asking her that. You know Helaena isn’t one to openly express her emotions and thoughts proudly. As her sister, you honor that but also can become the maternal figure she needs within seconds.

“I should be asking you the same,” You smile, looking smug and all. And your sister’s droopy eyes slowly lighten with glee. Her small frown turns upside down and suddenly you feel your heart fill with warmth and joy. “What has the Queen been sewing all this time?”

“Purple lilies,” She gently shows you her work and focuses on your excitement. What she appreciates is your fascination with her skill with a thread and needle. You had no talent in it, much to your mother’s display. But you would gladly watch your sister sew for hours for the fun of it. “I remember you mentioning them a while ago. And I thought it would be pretty to make for you,”

“How thoughtful of you,” You plead with your gentle eyes, resting a hand on her thigh. You looked like you were going to burst into tears out of happiness for her nonsensical act. You act differently around her and the children, sometimes Helaena thinks you have two personalities. One with her family minus Aegon and another with everyone else. You were mushy and caring, nothing like yourself hours earlier in the morrow in the councilroom. She had heard you burst into a meeting, enraged by them claiming you as a disturbance to their discussion. Like the stubborn person you were, she knew you would rather stay and argue with them for hours. And that you, for her boy.

The Queen hums, delighted by your soothing presence in her slightly dimmed room. The room had been cleared of children's beds and toys. Now it lies barren with little to no furniture. The curtains did not change, they were arranged simply to allow some light into the chambers to let the children wake. But now, there would be none and it is left abandoned.

“How is Jaeheara?” The whisper of your voice is the only thing she’s heard after minutes of silence. Helaena does not reply immediately, knowing her thoughts are too invasive and terrifying to think about. The black gown she still has on feels tight and makes her uncomfortable. She doesn't want to remember the funeral. It was too much for her to reminisce about despite being hours earlier.

She makes another loop with bright purple stringing onto her needle. “She is well and is accompanied by a Kingsguard during her lessons,” She makes sure to include the Kingsguard, knowing you have been adamant about the protection and security around King’s Landing. As of late, it felt as though the castle did not feel like home anymore. It became somewhat of a hollow skeleton of a dungeon. With many escape routes and corridors, people would walk in and out without notice. It terrifies her and knowing you, you would rather be killed than have another child murdered.

Her response pleases you however Helaena is aware of something else on your mind. She can feel it without looking at your face to know. It’s your inseparable bond as a sister that you sometimes were astounded by. Helaena calls it a bond and maybe she is right. Your eyes are focussed on somewhere else and it gives her a moment to look at you. Your brows furrowed with a subtle curve of a scowl makes her believe you were having negative thoughts. Were you feeling guilty about Jaehearys death?

“What’s wrong sister?” Despite her knowing the reason, Helaena wants you to admit your remorseful thoughts. The veil that covered her face was no longer present and she could face you without barriers. Her lilac eyes look at you, softening at you.

“I can’t help but think I am guilty of Jaehearys death,” You sound vulnerable, no other person would witness this side of you. Because you shielded this side of you. Your display of weakness was only meant for people like Helaena, close to you, unjudging and caring in your coping. Yet sometimes you think of your sinful thoughts of guilt to be an act of punishment. You sometimes felt you were meant to feel this way for not being present with the Queen and her children when it happened. Why couldn’t you be a good sister and protect the ones you loved?

“You should not be,” Her small palm cradles the side of your jaw, making your stare connect with her. Helaena is quiet and gentle in her expression of words. What she says always has an impact. She is a woman of few words and it makes her speech inspirational. “I- For anything, it was my part as a mother, for letting my child be murdered in cold blood-”

“No of course not!” You were quick to retaliate to her pleas. She could not be responsible for such a horrific act taken against the crown. “Helaena, you did your best to protect your children.”

“Yet I was asked to choose,” The bottom of her lips quivered, and eventually hot tears filled her waterline. “And I had no other choice!”

“You were held at knifepoint,” You grasped the hand that held your jaw. Gently and slowly to make sure and emphasize her attention to you. “I would’ve bursted into the room and offered myself if I could’ve. But you did the best you did as a mother to protect your children.” You gave her another tight squeeze.

“I had no other choice,” Her sobs slowly brewing. And the tears flowed and there was nothing you wanted to do other than comfort your dear sister. She was grieving like any mother. You would be present for her and give Helaena all of the world, to give away her sorrow. However, it is inevitable and you best offer her your condolences and feelings of heartbreak. Because you did love her children, Jaehearys and Jaeheara. The light and beacon of Helaena and Aegon's marriage.

Helaena’s figure dwindled as she scrunched herself forward into a curling ball. The weight of her thoughts was too much. As a parent, she believed she failed the role she was meant to play. Her cries did not stop or steady in a rapid heartbeat. Any further, Helaena believes she would’ve acted impulsively if not for you, holding onto her shoulders. You were gentle against her tragic and frail body when you allowed her head and shoulders to rest against your chest. You’re silent in the comfort you gave. Because no words could pursue more than your actions. Being the more responsible and maternal figure, you became a weeping shoulder for Helaena to spout the rest of her worries and anguish.

You wonder what Aegon and his sorrows are.

Criston Cole was in a predicament. He failed as a Kingsguard to protect the royal family. And because of his absence, a dead prince was left at the doorstep of the king. He’s ashamed in silence because he could not make any reason for where he was during the intrusion of the castle. His affair with Alicent was more than a passionate one. It consoled him and eased for the upcoming days of Aegon’s coronation and Rhaenyra’s horrific deeds. The knight was stuck in a situation he wished would not bring to the public eye. No one can know of his relations with the Queen Regent. Not when times were suspenseful and dire as to who to trust in the castle.

And so, after he challenges Ser Arryk to do the impossible and slay the Black Queen within her quarters of Dragonstone, he desires to focus on his plans with the king. The afternoon following the prince’s funeral, Ser Criston smoothes out the ends of his locks, recomposing his hysterical manner against the twin knight. Of, the accusations of treason against the king and the knight’s code. He should be honoring the Kingsguard words at the back of his sleeves by now. For all that has occurred to him, Criston wants to prove to the king he is capable of being essential.

The summer breeze is faint and noticeable to those in the Red Keep. It’s open corridors and windows, it is the perfect spot for sunlight. The Kingsguard makes his way to Aegon’s chambers, where he plans to inform his schemes of sending Ser Arryk away to Dragonstone. In hopes, it would please His Majesty of the constant restless nights he has experienced.

But he nearly misses you. It takes a second for Ser Criston to take a step back and look back at what you have been doing. You, the princess, looking out of place in the training area of the stables. Where knights and stable boys fight and practice their combat. It was a place you’re likely forbidden to be, however, it has never stopped you. The knight knows of your ambitions to fight like your brothers. You’re eager, more confident than your siblings to practice. He had suggested once to the Queen that she should allow you use of the sword. For self-defense and hobbies.

You practically begged Alicent to hold a sword in your hands. Your cute chubby cheeks as a small child were something he remembered sometimes. You were so eager then. He could still see it occasionally when you ventured to the training area, staring at the knights practicing their moves and defenses.

“Are you alright, princess?” Ser Criston appears behind you and you’re suddenly aware he must’ve been standing behind you for some time. He knows you come here to think and be reminded of the past. “The morrow has been rather bleak has it not?”

“Rather too bleak,” You groan, crossing your arms and rubbing your forehead in weariness. You’re aware the Kingsguard is not allowed to probe your troubles further but you rather indulge. “The day grows weary for the wavering support of the other Houses.” A quiet nod of endearment is seen from the knight as he reminisces about why they had exhibited the funeral exactly. To spread rumors and weaken the queen bastards' claim.

“It will help us in the long run, princess,” He steps forward as you turn to stare at his gentle Dornish features. Maybe in another lifetime, you would’ve fallen for him if he wasn’t a knight.

“Is that what the Queen Regent said?” A switch and it was like your tone turned to bitterness the moment you mentioned your mother. Ser Criston feels his heartache at your sentiments to the Queen. She was your mother and loved you very much. Something you can’t seem to appreciate whenever you open your mouth in front of the council. While she has complained and spouted worries of your deterring interactions, you’ve taken glory in the distance between you and your mother. Ser Criston hopes one day you will reprimand that relationship.

“No,”

“Tell me, why do you value her opinion so much?” He eyes at you shaking your head with a heavy scowl of disgust. Your hatred towards your mother ran cold and poisonous, under the depths of your hard-spoken shell of a heart. Maybe some part of you did care about the Queen. If there was, Criston had never been able to witness it, you’re too stubborn. And you know Alicent cherishes him deeply.

“She has a kind heart,” The Dornish man cannot more than understand why you probe his opinion of your mother. Were you suspicious? He’s served your mother for nearly a decade and gained her trust as her right-hand protector. Yet where was he when an intruder entered the castle grounds and left Helaena traumatized and crying?

You snarl a mocking laugh, “A kind heart?” You’re staring at the Queen’s protector with discontent and failure. “She plots and schemes to gain the people's trust over my brother’s claim. What more is she than the Hand’s right-hand puppet.” This is an alarming accusation because Ser Criston knows Alicent does not trust her father with her boys and daughters. You were an example of that. Whoever she plots with, he knows she takes into consideration who is affected the most. She was the Queen of course. Dainty and considerate of her subjects.

“Another advantage we have over Rhaenyra, princess,” He reminds you of the whole reason why the council decided such a thing. It’s grueling yet would sway the people in their favor towards the crown than that false liar of a ruler across the land. “Understand that everything she and the council decide is to gain more allies,”

“By simply lying to the public and creating more web of lies for us to be stuck in,” You probe and your lilac orbs glow in a dark tone. You could not stand the ploy they had used for Jaehaerys funeral. You think it was anything but honorable, to use your nephew as a cause and leeway to denounce your half-sister. Ser Criston gives you a look, only a parent would hold when their child does something to disappoint them. And even though he was not your father, he still felt utterly responsible and devoted to you as one. He has seen you grow from a child to a woman. He’s aware of your struggle in your place at court. He was there when you desperately wanted to hold a bow and arrow, practically crying to your mother on your knees. He was also there to comfort you when you accidentally drove your dragon into a terrible accident. Criston Cole felt some kind of platonic love over you, despite you never feeling the same way. ‘

Yet he couldn’t help but agree with you. “You’re right, princess. But it is the only way to convince the townsfolk of our cause. We need their support to win this coming war.” He sees your shoulders slumped, most likely growing tired of talking back and forth of their intention to false news. You hated how everyone agreed to it wholeheartedly.

“We need more than the support of the townsfolk to win a war,” Your lips turn to a thin line, contemplating all the reasons why you had to be on the wrong side of justice. “We have dragons, that is how we win a war.”

Nightfall was as unanticipated as it was wanted. The funeral and rumors from the council made it unbearable to walk past servants and nobles without being reminded of it. There were many times you wished to stop in front of the people and shout in their faces. There would be no denying it all. However, you were done with it. You were tired of receiving the same piece of news and rumors. It made you hereditarily furious and petty like a child. But no violence has been spilled. Instead, you could only clench your palms, aggressively and move on with a faint scowl. A puff or two would break your cover.

Moreover, the servant girls and maids knew what made you tick. The type of gossip you hate to talk and listen about. Since you’ve lived in the castle for the entirety of your life span. So regardless of whether they spoke of today’s events or not, people knew you were not in a great mood. More or less you were agitated, imitating, and not to be consoled.

You made it your routine to visit Helaena before going to bed. When you were younger, you and your sister often paid visits to your mother and sometimes your father if present. Queen Alicent would soothe your worries and nightmares while Viserys sat in silence, unable to speak due to the pain. Yet now, that was before you and Helaena slept in the same room. She was Queen now and had a separate room with her children. It was you who made it customary to ease her worries at night and say goodnight to her children. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, her beautiful children. Even now, after everything had happened, you wanted to honor your promise to visit the new Queen.

The granite tiles were cold. You could feel it despite wearing soft padded shoes. Your garments were loose and free from the restraints and pains you’d worn for the day. But somehow it made you feel anxious and oddly vulnerable out in the open. Of course, it was natural to feel this way after what happened. But everything, even the times you felt the most safe was now invaded by thoughts of fear and concern. You swallowed whatever security you had and moved along the balcony inside King’s Landing. The royal rooms were all the same, but you knew which belonged to whose. You knew which rooms were your mother’s, your sister’s, which had the best hiding spots, and which had the quickest way out of the city.

Although whose room brought you the most curiosity was the one in front of you. In the distance, where you stood, a figure of green exits out of the room and disappears into the darkness. Your mother. Alicent did not seem to be in a rush to have exited Aegon’s chambers nor did she look content coming out of it. It looked as though she had mistaken his room for another.

Hastily your paused movements began to quicken. As you tip-toed towards the doors of your king, you twist the knob and a soft creak makes you curse out of anonymity. The bed chamber was dimly lit and the fireplace illuminated a gorgeous orange dew that covered half the room in warmth. The drapes of the windows were slightly closed, making the silhouette of Aegon, hunched over more evident. He leans in a cushioned chair by the fire and you can see his unsecured locks, shape the sides of his face.

You quickly realize your brother’s sobbing, saddening and heartbreaking. For all the things he was, Aegon did not deserve to lose a child. You understood very much as him that Alicent had planned his coronation for a long time. Yet now that it has happened, tragedies come down like dominoes in a panic. Lucerys has died on dragonback. And now Jaehearys was murdered in cold blood. Both are innocents from the result of this pretentious battle for power between Rhaenyra. It is when you shut the door behind you with a faint click, you make yourself known to the king.

“Aegon,” It’s a whisper with no silence. Covering his face to shield his tears, Aegon does not dare to look at you. He looks ashamed and can only stare down, lost and in failure. You understand his dismissal of your presence. No one should see their king as weak like this. Not even his closest kin and mother. Only that his mother has witnessed this scene a multitude of times over the years of watching over her son. Still, you were not the type to witness Aegon at such a low point like this.

Nothing. You wanted nothing from him, seconds ago only curious about his profound discussion with your mother, who did not seem to speak to him at all. Something about that makes your heart churn at the Queen Regent. You walk slowly and only when you finally face him, his gaze is still on the floor, unable to lift his head to say anything. Go away! You’re making a fool out of yourself.

Instead, you closed the gap that separated the two of you. You clasped his neck and held it firmly in a consoling manner. His weeping only grew louder the moment he felt your touch, so comforting and soft. His hands eventually wrap themselves around your waist and he rests the side of his head against your stomach.

Only you can soothe him like this. It’s discovered to be the most effective way for Aegon to calm down, your touch perhaps was the solution to it. It was never touched upon, this consolation you had with him, there were rare occasions when the prince had become too drunk to return to his quarters to have gone to yours instead. There were times when your brother wanted to hide and be away from your conniving mother and her insults. Sometimes he’d cry, drink, or rant about her inconsolable expectations of him. Because truly you are the closest to understanding that feeling. The feeling of being unwanted and as though you were not doing enough of your duty to care. Of course, you cared, you did everything for your family. Still, it could never be enough to put a smile on your mother’s face. And more evidently that of your grandsire.

“I’m sorry,” You let out a dreary breath, rubbing Aegon’s hair. He sniffles, allowing his forehead against your stomach. He closes his eyes and lets out a sad laugh that turns into a cry. He’s lost so much in a matter of days. No one to comfort him, and his wife silently grieving in her own time. His mother forever abandoned her efforts. And his brother disappears with no explanation. Now here you were, the one he found relying on.

“I tried so hard,” He cries out, snot and tears making his speech muffled and disproportionate. “Yet everything has backhanded and slapped me in my face!” You feel a quiver on your lips when he speaks those words. Your heart burns and aches and maybe finally, you can put away your pride and be gentle. You reach behind where his hands are secured by your waist. Sliding them down to allow you to kneel to his level. With his red-shot eyes and puffy cheeks, Aegon looks like he wants to give up everything now and then. He’s never looked so weak and tiresome.

“I know,” You shaped his face with your palms, sliding your thumbs over his cheeks. They are dried of momentary tears when he looks so desperate to cling onto anything to save him. “And as king, it is a heavy toll. Jaehearys will know you did everything you could to avenge his death.”

“It has gone to madness,” His lilac orbs staring at you with such intensity and possibly love. Torn and twisted, you know this is a wife’s duty to be her husband. Though under Helaena and Aegon’s relationship, they have never loved each other. They were husband and wife, yes but only under law. Helaena held no love but did genuinely care for his well-being. And you had shown more devotion towards his feelings than anyone had done within days. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“You can start by figuring who and who not to trust at court,” You exhale, heart beating like a bass drum when you feel his hands circle yours. “Know who your trusted allies are and destroy Rhaenyra’s support.”

“Then I need you,” He leans forward, his silver locks tangled in between yours. His gaze was wild and desperate for any kind of refusal you might have. “I need you at court. By my side, you are as essential as any of us there.” It felt as though nothing in the world mattered next only the two of you at this moment. At this important moment, you felt a surge of adrenaline and an urge to comply with his heeds. Your eyes momentarily trail to his lips before discerning back to his eyes.

“Because I have a dragon,”

“Because you are my blood, you are a strategist and the smartest woman I know in the Seven Kingdoms,” His dried tears make him even more angelic. Perhaps in another lifetime, you two would’ve married instead and dealt with it more easily. Your mother knew it. Your gransdire did too. Despite it all, they all disapproved of you for your lack of devotion to duty. What more can you offer than your service directly to the crown? To the council? It makes you grin in pride for his acknowledgment of you.

“Of course, my king,” And with those words, he closes the gap between your lips. Sorrowful no way but profound in a new kind of serge to overcome the tragic delay. You were right in front of his eyes all along. You, the second-born princess of Alicent and Viserys' marriage. Quip with a sharp tongue and tactics for how long you’ve studied the art of it. You were no ordinary princess. You were a fighter, a warrior who well enough wanted blooadshed as much as him.

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gtgbabie0 · 2 months

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-Cregan Stark x Dreamer!Reader

{The war has brought many casualties, those that you’ve already seen begin to unfold before you}

I’ve received many requests for another part so here it is, sorry for the long wait. Enjoy my lovelies!! 💕

//!CW!// spoilers for Rhaenyra’s death//

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The sound of men and clanging metal intermingled throughout the camp, overwhelming your senses. It was a sound Cregan promised would soon become a distant noise. He was wrong.

You sit on the bed, palms pressing against your ears with a deep frown. You hated it here, hated the cold and the men and the noise and the way they all looked at you with a strange look in their eyes as if you were some kind of creature from beyond the wall that their nursemaids used to scare them with.

You missed Winterfell, the warm castle and the glass garden that you spent hours in, admiring the winter roses. It had quickly become your home and you were sick with the desire to go back, but Cregan wanted you here he needed you here.

You just wanted to escape from your mind, the murmurs and whispers. The way it screams at you to make the blasted noise all stop.

“Apologies, there was some trouble with the-” his words fall short as he spots you, wrapped up in furs, hunched over and covering your ears as if you were in pain. The sight was an immediate punch to the gut.

He felt awful in truth, he should’ve left you home in warmth where you could be comfortable, but the daunting thought of you going through another episode whilst he was gone, far away from you… it was enough to make his stomach turn with unease.

“Y/n?…” he calls your name softly, sitting down beside you with a small frown. His index finger and thumb cup your chin to tilt your head, making you look up at him.

“I want to go back home.” You tell him, your voice trembling with sadness and from the cold air that was clearly getting to you.

He nods in understanding, working his fingers around your wrists to bring your hands away from your ears and down into his lap. Gods, you weren’t making him feel any better.

“I know my girl, just hang in there.” He whispers the same thing he has told before. His voice was hoarse with exhaustion but loving all the same. His thumb caresses over your knuckles, trying to soothe away your troubles and bring you warmth.

However, his gentleness does very little to quell the sudden pang of frustration that hits your chest.

“It’s cold and noisy and I’m sick of being looked at like some sort of monster!… you’ve dragged me out here for your own sake without a single care about me!” The words come out too quick and too harsh. Regret immediately fills your heart.

He stops for a moment, looking a little taken aback by your sudden anger. his expression softens as he squeezes your hand. “You know that’s not true.” He tells you firmly, his hands still holding your own tightly. He was worried for you, deeply, it showed in smaller ways but it was still fiercely there. “You’re here for your own good… I’m sorry.”

He can tell you are miserable, the way your lips purse together in a pout and how your eyes seem to droop. such an expression didn’t suit you. Silence settles between the pair of you, his thumb rubbing across your soft palm.

“Forgive me for shouting, I do not mean to.” The words leave your lips in a soft whisper, defeat weighing heavily against your shoulders as you slouch.

“Don’t be silly, I’ve dealt with unruly men with tempers far worse than yours for weeks now” He sighs, giving you a small smirk which you return weakly.

“I could be worse if you’d like.” You tease lightly, trying to make light of the situation you are currently stuck in.

“No, you’re alright.” He deadpans, trying to fight the smile that tugs at the corners of his lips as he brings your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. “You’ve already got the dragon's temper.” His words are muffled against the back of your hand and for a moment you feel the warmth that you craved.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The following days were slow, not much happened and the Ravens seemed to be few and far between. You were nowhere near Kings Landing, the snow on the floor could attest to that.

You found peace within your tent- away from prying eyes who judged you without even knowing you- curled up in the furs enjoying how the air carried a twinge of the warmth dragged from the bonfire that was in the centre of the camp. Soon enough sleep would capture you, allowing you a small moment of respite.

Cregan had left you not too long ago, whispering a promise of returning as soon as possible whilst pressing gentle kisses against your forehead in an attempt to coax you to sleep. The sun had set since then, and the camp was now much calmer than it had been as of late, it seems as though the men were getting restless.

Sleep had always been a false sense of security for you, ever since you could remember. Rhaenyra, your mother, had tried every remedy known to the Maester on Dragonstone, she had even resorted to sending ravens to the Citadel but to no avail.

With the history books telling her little to nothing and the Maesters all at a loss she felt as if she had failed you, but then again most dreamers in your lineage were failed. Doomed from the moment they first drew breath.

You were clearly no exception, and your dreamless sleep soon turned violent. The cries, hot dragon fire, a woman burning, the smell of charred flesh. you had seen this one before but not like this, not so real as if you were witnessing it first hand.

It plays on repeat and you can’t seem to wake or move for that matter, paralysed to do nothing but watch. Then you see her, your mother, her purple eyes meet your own as she stands before a golden Dragon. She does not flinch or cry out for the Gods but merely braces herself for the inevitable.

The sight of her burning body sends a searing heat through your spine almost as if you had taken her place. Suddenly you’re jolting upright, screaming until your lungs feel like they might just collapse and kicking the furs off of your body.

“No! no… no, no.” You mumble to yourself, standing up on unsteady feet as you stumble out of the tent and into the freezing cold air. The chill gives you relief then everything goes numb, and the world around you doesn’t feel stable enough like some kind of weary dream.

Smoke was the only thing you could smell, so strong that it chokes you up as you continue to rush through the camp. Muttering about fire and dragons to yourself, completely crazed in the eyes of the men around you.

“Lady Stark?!” The sound of worried voices filters through the ringing in your ears. It’s too much.

Cregan had long abandoned the meeting in one of the tents as soon as your scream echoed through the camp, shouting demands to the men around him whilst rushing to try and get you in a desperate attempt.

Strong hands grasping your elbows causes you to stop in your tracks, it was Cregan, you were safe. You stare up at him all teary-eyed and shallow breaths. Your own hands tremble as you hold his forearms tightly.

“She’s burning… breathing dragon, burning flesh, she's burning.” You tell him frantically, your fingers digging into the leather on his arms. “She’s burning.” The words all come out in harsh gasps.

“Seven hells… you’re going to freeze.” He rasps, taking off his fur cloak to drape it over your shoulders, pulling it around your body to protect you from the chill in the air.

You continue to hold onto him for dear life, muttering a series of “No… no… please no.” Against his chest as he holds you close to him tightly, his hand cradling the back of your head.

“Go on, off with you all!… you’ve got better things to be doing.” He shouts, watching the men disappear back into their own tents, busying themselves with a few odd tasks.

He guides your tense body back over to the warmth of your shared tent, sitting you down on the bed as you continue to murmur incoherent words of protest. Cregan brushes his fingers through your hair, trying to pull you out of his dazed state.

“She’s going to die… she's dying, I don’t want her to die.” You panic, hands grasping his own with a worried look, brows pulled together.

“Who, who will die?” He asks softly, the rough pad of his thumb gently rubs over your knuckles, soothing the tremble in your hands.

“My mother… it was so clear, please, we have to warn her.” The words are a struggle to get out, trying to fight the way your throat closes up.

He watches the helplessness in your eyes intensify, how your fingers tighten around his hands in desperation. There was little either of you could do so far away, your dragon had died a whelp and the ravens would never make it to Kings Landing in time. All he can do is pull you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

“I’m sorry, my sweet, I’m sorry…” he murmurs against your hairline, holding you as you cry against his shoulder.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

You never lost hope, for the following days. You waited on bated breath for further news, constantly looking up at the sky for any Ravens… Dragons… anything that would be a sign she was still alive. Nothing had come until the early hours of the next morning.

Two scrolls with the wax seal of House Targaryen. Two deaths that would officially end the ongoing conflict.

“Y/n?…” Cregan calls your name softly, watching you intently as the letters fall from between your fingers and onto the floor.

You shake your head in disbelief, eyes fixed on the ground beneath you. You did not cry, you couldn’t and it destroyed Cregan. He’d rather your tears than this distant look of despair that glazes across your eyes. His hand rests against your own, fingers caressing your palm gently.

“The stranger looms behind me, whispering the fates of my loved ones into my ears and all I can do is stand by and watch… I am useless.” Your whisper, voice so hushed and broken.

Cregan doesn’t know what to say, he’s at a loss and he fears any words that dare leave his lips will just end up coming out as a sob. Instead, he pulls on your hand until you’re collapsing against him, head tucked under his chin.

“Don’t blame yourself… she wouldn’t want that.” He whisper, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as your arms wrap around him, clinging to him like he was your lifeline.

He spoke the truth, he’d already heard plenty about your mother from both you and Jacaerys enough to know that her love for you was beyond what words could ever describe.

Maybe it was the exhaustion… the cold… or the grief that broke the dam in your eyes, making you cry out in choked sobs against his chest as his fingers brush through your hair soothingly.

“I want to go home Cregan…” you beg him through tears, going limp against his sturdy form.

“I’ll get you home sweet girl… I will.” He promises, not daring to let you go just in case you completely crumble before him. He would keep his oath he made to your mother, to protect you even from your own mind. Cregan would soon take you home but not before you witness your youngest brothers crowning.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺

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l-uminescent · 1 month

Text

˚⁀➷｡˚ REVENGE [PART TWO TO KINSLAYER] ━━━ AEMOND TARGARYEN X FEM! READER

part one.

synopsis: following your brave defeat of aemond targaryen in the battle of rook’s rest, your dragon silverwing delivers your body back to your mother in dragonstone. as you are discovered, a swearing of revenge is made as your body burns in its funeral pyre.

request: kinslayer is so good. would you ever write a little drabble to see the sadness of her family. especially her mother? also to see how this changed the dance. would you ever write a different ending? where before she fell silverwing saves her. like toothless did with hiccup. i adore it and need more. only if you want to of course.

notes: a bit longer than a drabble but i hope you enjoy anyways😭 thank you sm also to @dracaryxzs @hikaerys @delightfulbluebirdtidalwave & @quickamateur for requesting a part two of the black’s reaction to the reader’s death. i had so much fun exploring what the characters would feel like, esp jacaerys. tbh i don’t think i would write an alternative ending bc i just love writing angst wayyyy too much (it’s a problem)

there’s also a lack of jacaerys requests in my inbox which i think you should all fix by pressing here!

warnings: brief descriptions & mentions death, funeral pyre, angst, feelings of sadness after a death of loved one, burning, self-blame

word count: 1.9k

THE SHRIEKING SCREAM OF SILVERWING WAS THE ONLY THING THAT COULD BE HEARD FOR MILES. it was a shriek of pure pain, a cut wedged so deep had made its home in the poor dragon's heart as she had no choice but to watch on as you plunged your sword into aemond targaryen's eye. silverwing had tried her hardest to swoop down and rescue your body as both you and the man you loved plummeted to the ground in each other's arms. your limbs were intertwined with aemond's, your soul's holding the same love they had held many years ago in your final moments.

your body had crashed to the forest floor from the great height, dying immediately - still weaved with aemond's.

another heart-wrenching scream was heard from silverwing as the bond you two had shared had completely severed with your death. all she could do now was search the forest for you and bring back your fractured body to your mother.

silverwing had gently picked up your body in her claws, so not to bring you anymore damage than the fall had done. she had completely disregarded the body of your previous lover, sword still plunged in his eye. small whimpers left her body as she rose slowly into the air flying back to dragonstone, having lost another rider had left the dragon in an immense amount of pain as you had reminded her greatly of the good queen alyssane, her first rider.

aegon having fled the battle the moment he had witnessed aemond's death had left rhaenys velaryon, your grandmother, with too little time to come to your aid. piercing cries escaped her lips as she could do nothing but watch you fall to your death. knowing this is what you had wanted still did not heed the tears that escaped her lilac eyes, nor did it stop the blame she held for herself as she accompanied your dragon back to dragonstone, wishing over and over that it had been her instead of you, something she knew she would wish until the end of her days.

the shrieks of pain silverwing had let out alerted the dragon's on the island as she drew near. many stirred at the noise in fright, but none seemed to be as fretted as vermax, who had replied to silvering's bellow with one in return.

with the sound of her two children's dragon's shrieks, rhaenyra knew something was wrong. her gut instinct had told her something had happened to you, as jace remained safely within the castle. rushing to her balcony, she fixed her gaze intently across the sea for any sign of you, holding her breath as she noticed silverwing's flapping wings over the horizon. as she drew closer rhaenyra's eyes scanned her saddle, and noticing you weren't atop it her eyes flickered hastily down to her trembling claws.

she was clutching your lifeless body.

tears streamed down rhaenyra's face as she fell to the ground. uncontrallable sobs left her lips as her body violently shook in pain. admitting defeat she crumbled against the pillars of her balcony. as she did, her eyes bore into the sky above that painted in blues purples and oranges alike. she cursed at all the gods she could as it dawned on her this was what the sky held when lucerys had died just moons before. no amount of screams or curses at both the green's and gods would ever stop the blame that rhaenyra held for herself for your death, she knew you were not ready for battle yet she still sent you anyway.

your heart still held onto the embers of girlhood which was seen in the way you teased jace, the joy you found when you played with your younger brother's and the soft smiled that adorned your lips as she combed and braided your hair with a gold plated brush. you were too young to pass. you were meant to outlive her, to live a happy life with a husband and children who you adored - something you would never get to do it now. rhaenyra's painful screams were carried off into the wind, her grief-stricken body stuck to the place she had fallen, as her gaze at the sky hardened. she swore that whatever force had killed you would be killed in return. she knew it would never bring you back, her only daughter was gone from this world, but she needed for herself to seek revenge in your name.

━━━━━━━━━━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ━━━━━━━━━

it had been jacaerys who had went to greet your dragon. the poor boy did not realise anything was amiss at first. he trodded happily down to your dragon to congratulate you on your first victory, proud of his younger sister. it wasn't until he noticed silverwing's sad demeanour, how her entire body trembled in despair, curled up into a ball not allowing any guard to pass through the wall she had made. as jace approached the dragon she murmured a small cry as she began to uncurl, the strange behaviour making his mind run rampant and tears start to prickle in his eyes.

no. no.

it was only a matter of seconds before jace's knees buckled, falling to floor where you lay stretched out on the floor.

he couldn't believe it, you were so full of life only a mere few hours ago.

reaching for you, he pulled your head onto his lap, cradling your body as he did. he couldn't stop the tears that poured from his cheeks landing softly on your skin, as sobs erupted from his lips. he had hoped in some delusional way, that you would somehow awake, that if he just stayed by your side cradling you, you would return and call him stupid for worrying so much.

the pain of lucerys had returned tenfold. he was meant to protect you, you were his younger sister for gods sake, only a year between the two of you, you had been as thick as theives. always teasing each other, throwing food across the table when petty arguments broke out. the two of you had stuck by each other's sides as you became aware of the questions that arose from the colour of your hair when luke was still too young to understand. you were meant to stay by his side, he had long since planned to make you his hand as you had always been there as his biggest advisor - the person he had trusted most in this world.

jacaerys like his mother, blamed himself. he should have been their to protect you, because that's what brother's are for, right?

there was no doubt he was a targaryen in that moment. his wetted eyes dried with a rage he had never felt before. he too swore at the sky, cursing every green, every god who had willed your fate, his voice breaking as he did. jacaerys did not care what life lay ahead of him in that moment, being heir was long from his mind as he bellowed that he would exact your revenge even if it meant he would die too.

shallow breathes were taken as he brought his brown eyes onto your closed ones, still laying still in his lap. his anger had quickly faded at the sight of you again, his chest vibrating as he struggled to regain oxygen into his lungs. the softer side of jacaerys velaryon had once more returned as he allowed his forehead to rest against your cold one. his hands absentmindedly began to run through your hair, whispering soft "it will be okay" and "i love you's" as the tears silently fell from his glassy eyes, unsure of whether it was to reassure himself or you.

━━━━━━━━━━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ━━━━━━━━━

rain drops fell from the sky in a heavy rhythm, landing in small plops the cliff side where your family gathered for small funeral pyre after your body had be retrieved. it had been jacaerys who had suggested the place, knowing how you and luke had enjoyed coming up to sit peacefully and read together.

the somber mood was evident as the rain continued to poor from the sky, each person having their heart ripped out from their chest all over again as they looked upon you body. you had almost looked like you were sleeping if it wasn't for the fact you had turned a sickly pale colour, and your chest failing to rise and fall with the inhale and exhale of oxygen.

the group of targaryen's, velaryon's and silverwing the dragon, gathered around the small wooden pyre as they said their final goodbye's to you. daemon had approached the wooden frame, placing the sword your drove deep into your lover's eye next to you that he had managed to retrieve. he hadn't been aware of how much the sword had meant to you, but to him it showed the fierce love and protection he had felt. despite not being his own daughter, he had loved you like one - always taking the time to teach you the art of sword fighting despite the other knight's looking down on it. he returned to his wife's side who nodded him in gratitude for loving her little girl the way a father should.

tears threatened to spill from jacaerys glassy eyes as he began to approach your body next, his hand clutched little joffrey's who was still too small to understand where his elder sister had left to and why she had yet to return. he had placed the letter's the two of you had exchanged when he had visited the north, the fascination you had for the wall had always brought a smile to his lips when you had asked him questions. even now, a watery smile played on his lips thinking of it as he returned to his place next to his mother.

small sniffles could also be heard from the two targaryen girls - rhaena and baela - who stood on the opposite end of the pyre, the two girls reminiscing on the time you did spend together talking about boys, and giggling as you gossiped whilst sewing. their grandmother stood tall next to them as she gripped both their hands tightly, grounding herself with the thought that you would have wanted her to project the love she had for you onto your two cousins whom you had loved deeply.

the last to approach the pyre was your mother. her silent demeanour had been an obvious sign that her sadness had been replaced by a vicious anger that would not be calmed. leaning over the wood, she had placed the gold plated hair brush next to you, the very one she had combed your dark locks earlier that day creating the style you had always favoured, recalling how you had always begged her to do whilst you were still alive.

rhaenyra's lips left a ghost of a kiss on your forehead before she stepped back. calling silverwing forward in high valyrian, the dragon let out a number of whimpers and cries as she knew what came next.

"dracarys"

a single tear drop shed from rhaenyra's eyes as she turned away from the burning embers, her promise of revenge at the forefront of her mind.

"broken by the loss of one son, rhaenyra targaryen seemed to find new strength in the loss of a second. her eldest daughter's death hardened her, burning away her fears, leaving only her anger and her hatred."

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plathfiles · 9 months

Note

hii, could you do something where reader is family friend and visits every summer so she’s there when Ollie is too, and he senses reader and felix’s tension and tries to ruin it or come between them? And like some angst, drama, tension and just pent up frustration between Felix and reader

ooh yes! angst and drama, this is perfect

i hope you enjoy and thank you for the request!

☙☙☙☙

pairing: felix catton x fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n, angst, toxic relationships, manipulation, ollie being ollie, jealous!felix, possessive!felix, language.

a/n: I’m really proud of this

☙☙☙☙

You had spent every summer with the Cattons since you were 15 years old. Your father, Henry Roy was best friends with Sir James Catton. Once you met the Catton siblings— Venetia and Felix you came to Saltburn every summer.

Felix Catton. How would someone describe the human embodiment of the Greek god Apollo? That was Felix. He was tall and lanky. When his brown eyes fixed on you, it was like he was staring into your soul.

You couldn’t help but feel attracted to Felix. There was a spark between you two, that burned every summer.

When you turned 18, the Catton sibling’s cousin Farleigh joined in your summer adventures.

The four of you would run through that maze, figuring out its intricate design. Drinking every night and running naked through the tall grass that grew around the castle’s edge.

The summer before you went off to college, Felix and you shared your first kiss. It was a hot sunny day, Farleigh and Venetia were drinking by the pool. Felix had taken you off into maze for a walk.

When you came upon the statue in the middle of the maze, you and Felix were laughing. He leaned in and kissed you. Surprised at first, you pulled away. Then you planted your lips to his and kissed him until dark.

Then the summer ended and you had to go to University in Paris. You told the family you would come back every summer. And you kept your promise.

Now after your first year at college, you came to Saltburn for the summer. Hoping to see Felix. Neither of you had talked about your kiss last summer. It was a moment of passion and you doubted Felix would want to be with someone like you.

You’d heard from Elsbeth that Felix was bringing home a friend. You dreaded the thought of it being a girl, until Elsbeth clarified it was a poor boy from Liverpool.

The day before Oliver arrived you came to the house. Elsbeth was overjoyed to see you, giving you a hug and her usual kind compliment. Venetia said hi and pulled you aside, letting you know that would be staying on her side of the castle.

Farleigh and you exchanged jokes, although really happy to see eachother. Sir James asked you about your father and told you that he planned on inviting your family for dinner one night.

But you wondered where Felix was.

“Where’s Felix?” You asked Venetia, she was like a sister to you. You knew to trust her and she would always have your best interest at heart.

“He’s hiding and also preparing for his new friend Ollie to come over tomorrow. It’s annoying, he won’t stop talking about him. And you, christ, Felix is so nervous to see you,”

You blushed when she said this. But as if he heard his own name, Felix was walking into the room. You looked up at him, a smile spreading on your face.

You walked to him and he pulled you into a hug. Felix had missed you and he wanted to tell you how he felt. After he kissed you last summer he realized how in love with you he was. Felix spent the entire school year pining after you, figuring out a way to tell you.

When he became friends with Oliver, he always talked about you. How you were a friend but could definitely become something more.

Oliver was jealous. He was madly obsessed with Felix and had plans of his own this summer.

“I’m so glad you’re here, y/n,” Felix smiled charmingly at you.

“I’m glad too,” you replied, looking up at him with heart eyes. Venetia gave Farleigh a ‘let’s hope they get together this summer’ look.

After a night of pleasantries, you went to your room excited for what the summer had to bring. Little did you know, this was the calm before the storm.

☙☙☙☙

Oliver arrived the next day. You met him and heard all about his sad backstory. He was nice to you. Felix introduced you to him and immediately Oliver saw how much he loved you.

It made him sick with jealousy. So he planned to tear you two apart.

Later that day, you walked back to your room to change for dinner when you stumbled across a note.

‘Meet me in the garden tonight after everyone goes to bed — Felix ♡︎’

You blushed, closing up the note and planning to meet him. When you got to the garden, you waited. You didn’t see Felix anywhere. You sighed in frustration and confusion. You were cold.

But then you heard foot steps and in the dark you could see a figure. But it wasn’t Felix, it was Oliver.

“What are you doing out here Ollie?” You asked, your arms wrapped around yourself.

“I saw you, from my window. I wanted to know if your okay,” he said.

“Thanks, Ollie but I’m fine. I’m waiting for Felix. I thought—never mind,” You said.

“What?” Oliver asked, his plan unfolding just as he imagined.

“Felix asked me to be here. I thought he was going to tell me he wanted me, after last year,” you explained vaguely.

“Ah well. I don’t want to hurt your feelings but Felix has someone. Well multiple girls. He can’t keep his hands off them at Oxford. It’s ridiculous,” Oliver lied straight to your face. And you believed him.

Tears came to your face. Felix wasn’t interested in you and he already had someone, someone that wasn’t you. “No it’s alright. Thank you for telling me,” you said, wiping away a tear.

“I’m cold, so I should return to the house,” you said, walking past Oliver. He grabbed your hand and pulled you close.

Leaning in, he kissed you softly. You pulled away from him.

“Ollie no,” you said, looking into with eyes with warning. He let your hand go and you walked back into the house.

As you walked back into the house, you didn’t know that Felix saw you and Oliver kiss. As soon as he saw it, his heart broke and he turned away from the window. He didn’t see you pull away and leave.

The next morning, breakfast was awkward to say the least.

You were mad at Felix for not telling you he was involved and for standing you up. Felix thought you’d gotten with Oliver and was extremely jealous.

He was also angry with Oliver, as he knew how Felix felt about you.

Later that day, Oliver tried to find Felix. He was sulking in the sun.

“Felix? Is everything alright?” Ollie asked innocently. Felix just huffed in response.

“What do you think?” Felix asked passive aggressively.

“I’m not sure. I want to know what’s made you so upset?” Ollie asked innocently.

“How could you get with Y/n? I saw you two last night in the garden. You kissed her,” Felix said, sounding hurt.

Oliver frowned. “She wanted me to kiss her. I didn’t know what else to do. She left me a note to meet me and I was going to turn her down because I know how much you like her,” he said.

Felix’s face softened but his heart was breaking. Did you not like him? Obviously not if you wanted Oliver to kiss you, he thought.

“I’m sorry Felix,” Oliver apologized.

Felix turned to his friend, “It’s alright mate, it’s not your fault.” He reassured.

☙☙☙☙

You and Felix were not speaking to each other. Just glaring at each other across the room. Venetia was confused and Farleigh was too busy worrying about his own situation to notice.

“What happened between you and Felix?” Venetia asked, one night before bed.

You huffed, “Nothing, I guess. We kissed last summer and now, well he doesn’t want me anymore.” You explained.

“I find that very hard to believe. He talks about you all the time when you aren’t here. And Farleigh said he couldn’t stop thinking about you during school,” she laughed.

This confused you. You wanted to confront Felix. Angry, you took the note. “Right, I’ll be back,” you told Venetia.

You practically stomped to Felix’s room that night, banging on the wooden door. Felix opened the door, his hair disheveled and only wearing his boxers and maroon robe.

“What do you want?” He asked coolly, leaning against the door.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Don’t take that tone with me. You have been nothing but aggressive towards me this entire week. You won’t look at me, except when you glare. As if I’ve hurt you in some way,” you ranted.

Felix looked at you confused as you continued to speak. “Which is ridiculous, because you invited me to the garden. Not the other way around. I know you have loads of woman just lining up to fuck you. So I will do you the favor of fucking off,” you said, pushing the note into his hands.

You left in a huff and Felix was utterly quiet. He opened up the note and recognized the hand writing immediately.

Why would Oliver lie? He thought. Why did he pretend to be me and write you a note?

Felix walked next door and into Ollie’s bedroom. “Hey mate, I have a question.” He said, shortly.

Oliver looked up from his book, “Yes Felix?”

“That note that Y/n gave you. Did it look anything like this?” Felix said angry.

Oliver looked at the paper that he’d written and slipped under your door. He gulped. “I can explain,” Oliver said, albeit timidly.

“I don’t need an explanation Ollie, you’re a fucking liar. You took advantage of our feelings. Why would you do that?” Felix said.

Oliver couldn’t respond and when he didn’t, Felix left the room going out to try and find you.

You were crying on the bottom of the staircase, drinking a bottle of champagne that you’d snagged from the kitchen.

Coming down the stairs, Felix heard you and came to you quietly.

“Y/n, don’t cry,” Felix said. Hearing his voice, you stood up and turned around.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, wiping away your tears.

Felix walked towards you. His thumb landed on your cheek and wiped away a fallen tear. “I’m sorry about Ollie, he manipulated us. Told me that you wanted him. It made me jealous, because well…because I love you.”

You looked at him in surprise. Felix loved you. “You love me?” You asked, to which Felix nodded, a soft smile on his face. “And you aren’t seeing anyone?” You wanted clarification.

Felix furrowed his eyebrows in worry, “No, no im not. I only want to see you,” he said, leaning in incredibly close.

You nodded, “I love you too, very much,” you smiled softly, looking up into him.

In a heartbeat, Felix kissed you. At first it was soft and sweet. It became heated as you kissed him back. Felix moved his hand around your waist, to hold you up and close to him.

When you pulled away for air, Felix smiled softly. “I’ve been wanting to do that again since last summer. I don’t like it when you’re away. You’re mine, you know.” Felix smirked, pulling you into his hips.

“Am I now?” you grinned, liking the sound of him calling you his. Felix nodded, leaning into kiss you.

“Felix….” You heard Oliver say from the top of the stairs. Felix’s grasp on your waist tightened protectively. You both turned to Oliver.

“Go away Oliver,” Felix said warningly. You gave Oliver an angry look. You wished he would leave.

“I need to talk to you, Felix. We need to sort this out,” Ollie practically whined.

Felix shook his head, “I can’t have you here mate, it was a mistake inviting you.” He said.

☙☙☙☙

The next morning in a dramatic fashion Sir James and Elsbeth led Oliver out of the grounds. You, Felix, Venetia and Farleigh watched from the top of the staircase as it happened.

When the door closed, Sir James clapped his hands together. “Alright. The Henry’s are coming to dinner tonight, everything must be perfect.” He said.

#felix catton x reader #felix catton #jacob elordi #saltburn #felix catton x reader fluff #felix catton x y/n #felix catton fic #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick

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importantstudentbusinessspy-blog · 2 months

Text

Cold-hearted wolf

Pairing: Cregan Stark × Martell reader

Tags: arranged marriage, cregan starts out mean in this, enemies to lovers cus he's grumpy and has no time for feelings,

Chapter 4 - He finally reunites with you after months of war. Don't try this at home. Possible misuse of the wod "tenfold." Cheers ;)

The Stark bannermen arrived at Winterfell to happy cheers. A whirlwind of emotions swirled in Cegan's thoughts as he dismounted his steed and headed into the castle in determination to find you.

After reuniting with his half-sister, he was given knowledge that the training room was where you had apparently been spending most of your time when you weren't accepting audience with the common folk.

He pushed open the training room doors, armor clinking as he moved. His heart raced as he laid eyes on you, clad in a set of sparring leathers; breaches that hugged your legs, tucked into knee high boots, and a wrap of the same material around your torso and chest, leaving your shoulders and arms bare for mobility.

His brow furrowed. Some of the marks along your arms were new. Your hair was longer, and you grew in height. Your features matured during his time away. You looked beautiful. You always had, but there had been a warm naivety to your look that was now transformed into a cold beauty.

Oblivious to Cregan's presence, you were presently clashing sword to sword with your personal guard, ser Alek.

Cregan smirked, taking in your form in the tight clothes. War was a lonely ordeal, and this wasn't a bad view to come home to.

After a swift jab that you expertly deflected, your sparring partner stopped moving, looking over your shoulder. Lowering your blade, you followed his gaze and came to a halt.

Cregan stood across from you, covered in new wounds and bearing the marks of battle. His presence commanding. His stubble and the dark circles under his grey eyes were a stark contrast to the man you had last seen months back.

As he approached you, you couldn't help but notice the gravity in his gaze when it traveled across your body. There was an intensity in his eyes, a deep seriousness that sent shivers down your spine.

Gathering yourself, you curtseyed and cleared your throat. "Cr- my lord. Welcome home!"

Cregan gestured to your sparring partner, "Leave us," dismissing the knight with a single command. He then ordered, "Ensure that no one enters this room."

“My lord,” the knight bowed his head before heading out the door.

The room was now empty, leaving you alone with your husband. The tension was palpable, and your heart raced. Cregan turned his back to you and placed his sword against a wall, then began to unclasp his armor, discarding the shirt beneath it beneath as well. His back and arms have sharpened with muscle since you parted and were now painted with fresh bruises and marks.

“You didn't wish to welcome me, wife?” He asked, still facing away from you.

"I did." You swallowed. “But you have not returned my letters. I wasn't sure if you were cross with me...”

He faced you again and strode to the wash basin in the corner of the room, dipping his hands in the cold water and running them over his body to scrub off dried blood and dirt.

You let out a gasp when you saw the massive scar ranging from the top of his neck down to his lower abdomen. It was stitched up. Recently. You instinctively walked up to him, but remembering their last encounter, you stopped.

Cregan's eyes roamed over you, taking in your sparring leathers. You raised your chin defiantly, preparing to hear to more scrutiny of your cultural wardrobe. “I see you've kept yourself busy.” He muttered, eyeing the door behind which stood ser Alek.

You exhaled sharply, detesting the implication of his words. Summoning your patience, you replied coolly, "You must be tired from your travels. Shall I summon a maester?” You made way for the door.

"No, stay," He said firmly, his voice commanding and filled with an intensity that you were used to seeing from him by now.

“I see your displeasure with me outlasted our time apart.” You murmured, unable to help yourself.

He chuckled, and you got a strange sense that the joke was on you. Your patience was wearing thin, and you couldn't hold back your frustration any longer.

You exhaled sharply. "My parents lied when they told me about our engagement."

"Lied?"

“Yes.” You insisted, raising your chin defiantly. “I didn't need to be told you'd be a great ruler. There was enough talk throughout the realm of the young warrior, Cregan Stark." You rolled your eyes. "But they promised I would have love. And you know nothing of the word."

"Oh?" He raised a brow, feigning curiosity. "By all means, go on."

You did. "A strong marriage should be built on love, passion, and friendship-"

Cregan laughed harshly. His eyes burning with an intensity that took you by surprise. He took a step closer, and you took a step back. "Love has no place in a marriage of alliance, princess. Passion doesn't mix well with duty..."

His grey eyes held yours as he made steps towards you, backing you up until your back hit a wall. "As for friendship… I'm afraid I fall short on that front too. Forgive me, but I don't wish to be your friend.” He sneered at the last word.

Your breath quickened, searching his eyes for the meaning of his words. Why was he so cruel? What have you ever done to him? The room spun as Cregan closed the distance between himself and you.

“Can't you pretend, then?” You let out the words between and gasp and a sob. “For the sake of duty, tell me that you missed me. That you missed your wife!” You begged, eyes glistening with tears as you looked up at him.

His lips were on yours before you could say another word. His bare arms circling around your back to pull you roughly against him, grasping at the you wore. His bare skin was hot against yours, and the sensory overload had you struggling to breathe. Tremors followed wherever his scarred, calloused fingers touched your skin.

His kiss was heavy with emotion. Everything he wanted to say to you for the past months was in that kiss. Not letting you part for a moment, his hands held you tightly against his hard frame.

Growing light-headed, you pulled away to take in some much needed oxygen.

The action had him glaring at you. “You dare pull away from me?”

“I was short of breath!” You rushed to explain, still trying to gain control of your speeding heart.

His icy stare cracked with a small quirk of his lips. He enveloped your lips in another hungry kiss, distracting you as his hands unfastened the ties of your breaches, reaching in to slide his fingers against your folds.

You whined, arching into him. The movement lowered the material wrapped around your chest, exposing your breasts.

You couldn't believe it. Here you were, a princess of Dorne, half clad and held against the wall of a training room by the Lord of Winterfell as he trailed vicious bites and kisses down your breasts while his fingers played with you.

Cregan dove in without hesitation, biting one nipple hungirly. You jumped as the mix of pain and pleasure. Your nipples were already sensitive from the cold of the room. His scorching tongue only added fuel to the fire, his stubble leaving scratches on your skin. Cregan's gaze focused on you, enjoying the display in front of him as you offered your body like a gift.

He switched to your other nipple, as his fingers began to apply pressure to your clit. He looked at you with adoration as he wispered. "I missed you, princess. Fuck, have I missed you..."

Your heart swelled with his confession as you moved against his fingers. Strands of hair fell apart from your braid, sticking your forehead, while your lips, red, swollen, and glistening from his kisses, framed every moan, whimper, and whine you made. You looked absolutely spent, and he hasn't even done anything yet.

When he and his friends first visited the brothel, the women acted shy and timid outside of the bedroom, but in it, they were experienced, confident. You were the opposite, he noted, carrying yourself with such dignity even back when he first met you. But right now, his hot-tempered little wife was blushing, falling apart at his words, tongue, and fingers. Gods, he needed to see you like this every day from now on.

He lowered to his knees, opening your breaches to take slow licks up your slit. He inserted a finger into your cunt. Feeling how drenched you were, he groaned against you, the vibrations travelling across your skin, making you shudder.

His smile grew with each wimper you let out as he sucked on your clit, tilting his head from side to side, changing angles to find the right one. Your wimpers picked up. You would have been surprised if the staff walking outside the room didn't know exactly what was happening behind the doors.

Cregan inserted another finger into you, his thumb pressing circles on your clit.

“Cregan!” You moaned, struggling to speak. “Please, im- oh!”

“You're what, princess?” You heard the wicked grin in his question. Seeing your hips move up and down against him, chasing that intense feeling, summoned a wave of pride in him. Curving his fingers inside you, he searched for that specific spot he knew you always cried for. A sudden squeal from you confirmed his successful exploration, and he ran his fingers over the bundle of nerves again and again.

Your hands grasped at the wall behind you, shuddering to the movements of his tongue and fingers. He licked your clit through your orgasm until you shook though the last of it.

Getting up, he kissed you deeply, pushing his tongue in to let you taste herself. You whined against him, your body curling into istelf as the last aftershocks of your orgasm subsided. He was holding you up, stopping you from completely collapsing on the floor.

You don't recall when he had lowered his breaches or lined your bodies up so that the tip of his cock would be at your entrance. Panic filled your mind at the danger he was putting himself in. “Cregan, your stitches!”

“I dont care. I need to feel you.” He growled, lifting you up with ease, strong arms wrapping your legs around his torso. Lowering to kiss you again, Cregan slowly pushed into you. He groaned into the kiss, pulling away to savor the view.

His wife looked so fragile like this, blinking up at him like he was a god among men, unable to catch her breath, eyes glistening with unshed tears. He slowly began to move in and out of you, echoing your earlier words back at you. “Tell your husband you missed him, y/n."

“I missed you, s-so much!” You whimpered, happy to finally experience the sensation you had longed for for the past five months. To feel full. Whole again. You hurt on those lonely nights while he was away, fighting for your kingdom. Fighting for your people. Fighting for you.

“I love you, Cregan.” You didn't care that this was a marriage of convenience to him, that duty and passion didn't mix. It was how you felt, and you wanted him to know.

He groaned against your throat, making you shiver. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” you repeated.

“Again, darling.”

“I love you!”

He held you possessively biting his lip as he watched you meet his every thrust. “I love you too, princess.”

“I love you.” Your voice broke as you felt the warm feeling coming closer and closer. “Please don't stop,”

His movements sped up and he groaned against you. You held tight when he thrust harshly against you, both of you gasping as you reached completion.

With one hand still holding you up, he leaned the other to prop himself up against the wall behind you. You held on to him as tightly as you could, mumbling. “Don't let go, don't let me go.”

“Shh, princess.” He kissed your eyes, your cheeks, and your lips. “I'm right here. I have you.”

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

You couldn't stay conscious if you wanted to, a powerful wave of exhaustion had you blinking In and out of sleep.

You woke up the next day snuggled against him in your bed of furs. He had washed himself clean, muscular arms wrapped around you covered in washed and healing scars. His face looked nearly peaceful if it wasn't for the worried crease between his dark brows.

You carefully brought your finger to the scar etching across his chest. Your hand shook as you thought of how close he was to death, had the weapon hit a mere inch lower. You planted a kiss on the wound, thanking the gods he came back home to you.

“It isn't so bad,” his voice raspy from sleep, spoke above you as his hand came to cradle the back of your head. “I fed him to my sword tenfold.”

You smiled, gently resting your head on his chest, taking in his scent. You missed it so much. “I only care that you came back to me.”

The sounds of the palace staff beginning their day's work behind the doors reminded you that you needed to get up to attend to your responsibilities. When you began to sit up, he pulled you back down, turning the two of you so that you were flat on your back with him resting on his elbows above you. He leaned down and kissed you gently. “I was a fool to dismiss you.”

“You were”

His shoulders shook with laughter, as he trailed kisses around your face and neck, his lips tickling your skin. “Your plan saved many of our men.”

“Our plan.” You said, sighing against his kisses.

“Your idea.” He insisted, nipping your collarbone, telling you not to argue.

It was your turn to laugh. “Very well then.”

You saw movements at the foot of the bed, and Cregan's dog jumped up to you, eagerl licking your face.

“Grey!” You smiled at the dog, who was panting with his tongue out, nuzzling against you. “How I missed you, my furry friend.”

You heard a muffled groan and something that sounded like "attention theif" behind you as Cregan untangled himself and walked over to slip on his robe. You watched in awe before clearing your throat, remembering something important. "Busy day today for you."

"Is that so?" He hummed, coming to lean on his hands against the bed, his face inches from yours as he whispered. “And what do I have planned?”

“You're to meet with a delegation from the Eyrie.” You supplied, reminding him that you worked as the Lady of the house while he was away, conducting business on his behalf. “There is business regarding crop shortages you need to address.”

His brow creased, and you hand shot up to brush it until the frown was gone. “Infighting?” He murmured,

You nodded.

“In the riverlands?”

“Aye, there's tension in the south.”

"Kings Landing?"

"Yes."

He pursed his lips before getting up. Muttering "Always something with that fucking family," under his breath.

You grinned at his annoyed expression, "Duty awaits, lord Stark." You turned back to the dog, petting him. "We can stay here, right Grey?"

"Oh, think again, lady Stark." Cregan took your hand and pulled you from the bed and against him with ease. You squeaked and rushed to grab a pelt to cover yourself as Grey stirred and jumped from the bed as well.

Cregan drew you against him. “What time is the meeting with the delegation?"

He gave you his signature wolfish grin and raised his brow. "Then you better get ready."

"In the late morning." You looked up at him. "Soon,"

@malfoycassimalfoy @leahnicole1219 @literishdegree99 @sardynes @magicseahorse @nsr-15 @littlebirdgot @ginarely-blog

#cregan stark x reader #cregan x you #cregan stark #cregan fanfiction #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #smut #cregan stark smut

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 6 months

Text

Thinking about bodyguard!Miguel O’Hara who insisted on waiting for you in the corner of the room while you did the table reading, rather than go wait in the car or around the lot like the rest of the cast’s personal security did.

Bodyguard!Miguel whose eyes never left your presence, it took you a minute to shake off the feeling, you always felt his eyes burning holes into your back when you were doing something and he couldn’t be right next to you. But after a while, you finally got yourself into the groove of the script material.

Bodyguard!Miguel who-despite mentally checking out ten pages into the script-was still able to pick some stuff up. It was a romance, he wasn’t surprised, since romcoms tend to sky rocket careers these days.

It was a period piece. Your character, who was named Anastasia, was a princess who was coming near the time where she had to be married off to someone else at a neighboring kingdom to be crowned as their queen, the problem is, that your character’s heart already belongs elsewhere, in the hands of one of the royal guards who worked in the castle.

That was all Miguel had really picked up.

Bodyguard!Miguel who finally tones back in when the reading was finished, hearing the head director tell everyone about how they’ll be receiving their schedules through their managers, before dismissing everyone (not before having everyone sign his copy of the script so that the marketing team can post it to social media later).

Bodyguard!Miguel who was about to make his way towards you so he could escort you home, but stopped when he saw your coworker who plays the love interest , Peter B. Parker come up to you to properly introduce himself.

—

“Why hello Anastasia.” Peter said as he came up to you with the friendliest smile you’ve ever seen, to which you quickly returned, both of you shaking hands with your free hands as the other held your respective scripts.

“Sir Tristan.” You giggled, calling him by his character name, before pulling your hand out from his. “I’m excited to work with you, I hope you feel the same.”

“Of course I am! Always ready to act with new and fresh faces-“ his phone starts to ring in his pocket, cutting him off, taking out to read the screen before looking back up at you. “I gotta take this, but I’ll keep in touch, I’ll have my manager send you my number in case you ever want tips, or to run lines over.” He told you, tucking his script under his armpit, giving you a quick wave before slipping out of the (now mostly empty) room, answering as he left.

You finally turned and headed to Miguel, who was now waiting by the door, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you. Neither of you spoke until you were in the parking lot, that’s when Miguel finally broke the silence.

“So… Parker huh?” It was obvious Miguel had to be a bit familiar with Peter’s work, who wouldn’t be though. He was a big star at the moment, having just come off from the Spider-Man films. Still, you weren’t sure what he meant by that, but you nodded and let out a small “mhm” anyways.

—

Part 1<

Part 3<

Not proofread.

Word count:500

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho @yournextbimbogf @tinybirdhideout @reader-1290 @laysmt @migueloharasoulmate @miguelzslvtz @scaleniusrm @xerorizz @enananawoah @messicampeon @anastasia1972 @lauraolar14 (if you want to be added click here, it’s easier for me then asking in the comments☺️)

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selfloverrrrrr · 2 months

Note

Can you do a non-con fic where the crown prince falls in love with his sisters lady in waiting or maid . Lady-in-waiting/maid reader is a counts daughter .💖(make it detailed) 》 also I love reading your fics sk much 😍

Thank you so much 😊💗

Hope you're gonna like this one too💗

The maid

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physical and emotional abuse, biting, size difference, Yandere Gojo, prince Gojo, maid reader, stalking, protective, jealous, obsessive, manipulative....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Y/n's POV

Working in Gojo's castle wasn't very easy. The boy who grabbed everyone's attention wasn't satisfied with the thing that I don't want him. I was his sister's maid. That was the only plus point for me. Whenever he comes to flirt with me I tell him that his sister called for me.

These things were okay until he started liking me. I didn't know at first. But then I started noticing things like he's staring at me when someone is talking to him and many more. When I get to know that I started making distance from him. Cause I knew he wasn't a very good man.

One day I was late for work. I quickly ran to the castle. I was Gojo's sister's private maid. I went to her door and knocked on the door. "Princess? May I come in?" I asked. No response came. "Oh y/n... princess isn't home today" a maid said. "She isn't?... then what should I do now?" I asked. "Prince Gojo told me to tell you that he wants you to go to his room" another maid said.

My heart thumped. Why is he calling me? But I had to obey his orders because I was a maid there. I went to his room. Slowly knocked on the door. "Come in" he said from inside. When I opened the door I saw Gojo laying on the bed shirtless. "Oh...y/n" he said. A smirk came on his lips. "You called me?" I asked. "Yeah...my sister isn't home today so I thought why not make you take care of me... close the door " he said. My eyes widened when he said close the door. "I-i....why...the door-" before I could say anything he spoke. "I said close the door and come here.... that's my order " he said.

I took a deep breath and closed the door then went towards him. "Good girl.... now sit here" he said and patted on the bed. I sat down. He took my hand in his. "So? What do you think? How does it look?" He asked. "W-what?" I asked. "My room, darling " he said with a smirk. "O-oh... great " I replied. "It's all yours" he said and kissed my hand.

My hands were shaking I just wanted to get out of here. "Can I.... can I go now?" I asked. "Go?... isn't it your work time?" He said. "Yes but your sister isn't at home today " I said. "Oh darling, but I am.... forget about her... think about me.... you'll work for me today " he said. And what can go worse? I can't say no!

"what do you want me to do, prince?" I asked. "Yeah that's why I like you... you're so eager to do your work" he said with a chuckle. "Get on the bed and take off your clothes " he said. My eyes widened. "What?" I said. "You heard me right " he said with a smirk. I stood up and was about to get out of the room when he grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards him. "Ah ah ah.... that's not what I said.... you have to be in the hard way, no?" He said and threw me on his bed. "prince, P-Please... I've to go" I said.

"What you should do is shut your mouth and obey my orders" he said and climbed on the bed. Gojo started crawling towards me. " P-Prince stopped" I said. I tried to get off the bed but he grabbed me by my leg and pulled me back on the bed. " Prince, please stop" I begged but he crashed his lips on mine. Kissing me roughly. Making me breathless.

He started undressing me. I tried to stop him but my strength was nothing for him. He almost took off my clothes. I was just left in my panties. Gojo started licking my nipple. His was so teasing. I moaned. He continued his teasing licking and sucking on my nipple. With his one hand he grabbed my other boob and squeezed it roughly. I screamed so loudly.

I was a fool... I was so fool! I shouldn't have come to his room and left the castle. When he was done playing with my nipples and boobs he got up and started taking off my panties. " Gojo please...." I begged again but he didn't listen to me. He brought his face close to my pussy and licked it. "Ummmmmmm..... heaven~" he whispered to himself.

He took off his pants. His huge length was out now. My eyes widened at his length. It was too long and too thick. He grabbed his dick stroked it two or three times then line it with my entrence. I began to panic. " P-Prince no.... please no .... Prince please no... It's too big.... it's not gonna fit." I begged him. "Shhh darling... Don't panic... it's gonna fit... we're gonna make it fit..." He whispered in my ear.

Gojo slowly pushed his whole length in but I screamed with pain. Then he started thrusting in and out. Thrusting became rougher and harder. I was screaming loudly. His huge dick was giving me too much pleasure with pain. He started giving me hickeys on my neck and chest. His thrusting gets faster and harder. My whole body was shaking. He was moaning too. The way his dick was touching my g-spot made my back arch. It didn't take much time and I came. As I came that smirk again played on his lips.

I felt his dick started throbbing inside me. I didn't have the power to speak. It was too much for me. When my warm walls clenched around him he moaned loudly. In a few minutes he came inside me. I could feel his seed spreading inside me. He slowly pull out and threw him beside me. He hugged me and pulled me closer to him and whispered....

"Y/n... do you know how much I craved your attention.... fuck I can't believe that I have you as mine now" he said and bite on my neck. "Why are you crying? Ain't you happy that you'll be the queen when I'm gonna be the king?" He said. My breath almost stopped when I heard. Was he saying he's gonna marry me? So he wasn't doing this for his pleasure...he wants me? I thought. "What?..... you thought I'm gonna leave you?...dumb girl" he said and laughed.

Give me your requests guys....

I love when you give me your requests 💕

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starsxblazing · 9 months

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Hi! Could I request Azriel who’s mated to the youngest Archeron sister who loves their human traditions. Az finds her celebrating alone despite a whole party being set up, and learns she feels forced to attend solstice or starfall, maybe Rhys even scares her into it a bit, but when she worked hard to set up parties on human holidays, but her sisters always choose starfall? And she feels they force her to adapt to fae traditions while not even her sisters, let alone the others, even acknowledge human holidays, even though feyre said she considers both worlds her home. One that ends in a confrontation with angst would be nice, but happy ending or not is up to you, thanks.

I could have made a small series out of this ask and I really and truly enjoyed writing it. I had intended on a happy ending but this is pushing 5k words and would have taken a lot more for it. I hope it was along the lines of what you wanted!

---

Cause and Effect

From the moment that you were shoved in the cauldron, your life had changed to the point that you weren’t sure what to do. It had hurt that your own sister hadn’t bothered to stop what had happened to you, Nesta, and Elain but you understood since her friend was injured. Being the youngest of all of the Archeron sisters meant that you were always looked over. Nesta had always been worried about Elain and even though you were only a year younger than Feyre, it never made any difference.

You had always felt horrible that Feyre was the one responsible for keeping all of you fed but your sister refused to let you go with her when she hunted. There had always been an urge to help and try to make things better but as always, you were shoved to the back burner. Most human holidays were forgotten but for some reason, you remembered one in particular. No matter the fact that you tried each year to celebrate it, you were either scoffed at or told that it didn’t matter.

It was something that you held close to your heart because it brought you joy and you wanted it to do the same for your father and sisters. You were different from them in the sense that you wanted to do nothing but spread love and joy but everyone around you was too miserable to care.

The fae had their own traditions in separate courts you had learned but that piece of you that loved your holiday felt as if it were slowly dying. It had hurt your heart to see Feyre go back to the original court that she had once wanted to go to but you stayed silent and a few feet away from your other two older sisters. Mor had all three of you in an instant as soon as she was able to and took the three of you to a home that you were unfamiliar with.

Your thoughts would linger on the injured males that had been bleeding out in Hybern’s castle as you moved between Nesta and Elain so that you weren’t alone for the three hours that passed. Neither paid you any attention which only added to the hurt. It had been a traumatizing situation for the three of you and you were all trying to cope in your own ways. It didn’t stop the fact that you wished someone would pay you some attention for once in your life.

Mor had come back to check on all of you after a few hours and she had been the first one in years to show you some genuine kindness. She led you to a room that you would be able to call your own so that you could find your own way to cope. Once she left, giving you a small smile before she did so, you took a moment to admire where you were. The room was huge considering what you had been used to with the bed being just as big. The balcony was what caught your attention the most and you knew that you would spend the most of your time there.

You found yourself enamored with the house that you learned was called the House of Wind. Mor had been the only one that had visited over the course of two days and you reveled in the attention that you were getting, even if it wasn’t a lot. On the third day, one of the males that had been injured returned to the House to see how the three of you were doing. You were instantly entranced with how handsome that he was, especially when he gave you a gentle smile. His eyes went wide when you smiled brightly at him and he stumbled a step as if he were in shock.

Azriel had been concerned about the three of his High Lady’s sisters so as soon as he was healed, he made his way up to the House. Only the youngest of the sisters could be seen since she had just finished eating. As soon as their eyes met, he was unable to resist the small smile that he had given you. It wasn’t until you gave him a genuine smile that shock overtook him. The warmth of a golden thread spread through him and it was all that he could do to regain his composure.

“How are you doing?” he asked in a gentle voice as he restrained himself from touching you.

“I’m still trying to adjust and learn what all of this means,” you answered honestly as you looked around the dining room. “It’s sort of disorienting.”

“I can only imagine.” You gave him another bright smile at his words when your attention turned back to him. “I have faith in you though.”

A small smile replaced your bright, genuine one and he wanted nothing more than to make it return even though he wasn’t sure how. The only thing that he knew was that you were his mate and he wanted to follow you around like a love-sick puppy. Throughout his eleven years of living in a cell, all that he dreamed about was having someone that loved him unconditionally and to love them in return. Even though he knew that mating bonds didn’t always work out, your smile that seemed to show a genuine kind heart had him hoping that it wouldn’t be the case. When a slight frown formed on his face was when your entire mood visibly shifted and it was all that he could feel in the air around the two of you.

“I never saw you when we went to visit your sisters,” he mused quietly, realizing also that you had never been mentioned.

“I was in my room. I didn’t- ” you sighed, your eyes glossing over in the process. “Nevermind. It’s not important.”

“I think it is.” He did his best to keep the curiosity and the hint of anger from his tone. “You shouldn’t have been excluded.”

“It was my choice.” You gave him a sad smile while his heart hurt at your tear lined eyes. “I wasn't.. It’s not really worth sharing.”

“I think-”

“What are you doing?”

Nesta’s voice from the doorway had the both of you turning to look at her, her face etched into pure anger. It had you stiffening up in front of him and it had him rising to his full height while his wings tried to flare in his protective state for you. Your older sister did nothing but continue to glare at the both of you before you sighed quietly while hanging your head and shaking it slightly.

“We were just tal-”

“You don’t need to talk to her,” Nesta snapped. “She has us. Stay away from her.”

You glanced back at him with apologetic eyes before walking away from him but he noticed that you went in a completely different direction than your sister did. He almost followed you but decided against it in hopes that it would help you cope a bit better.

“Good morning,” you mumbled sleepily, still in your pajamas, when you entered the dining room with the male from the day before and Mor sitting at the table.

“Good morning,” Mor replied with a small smile. “We weren’t expecting you to be up so early.”

“I do rise early sometimes,” you chuckled as you took a seat beside her with the male sitting across from you. “But everything.. It’s hard to sleep now.”

“That’s completely understandable.” Mor rubbed your arm for a moment in a comforting manner. “We’re glad that you are out here with us.”

You gave her a small but sad smile, unsure of what to say. It was obvious that none of them knew about you and even though it hurt, you did your best not to show it. Feyre had mentioned to you once that the food here was delicious and now that you had a taste, you weren’t sure if you could ever go back to normal human food. The thought had you returning to the day that you had been forced into the cauldron and realized that you didn’t know anyone’s name and most importantly, how they all were doing after injuries.

“You were hurt.” You locked eyes with the hazel ones across from you. “And your friend-”

“We’re alright,” he assured, causing you to slump in relief into your seat. “Cassian’s wings are healing as we speak.”

“I’m so glad.” You gave him a bright smile before gazing at his wings momentarily. “I can’t imagine how much pain that you were in. I feel horrible that I didn’t even think to ask you last night.”

“It’s okay.” He gave you another genuine, small smile that earned a near silent gasp from the female beside her. “You have been through more than any of us can imagine.”

“I don’t even know your names,” you mumbled, choosing to ignore his reassurance since you were trying to avoid the thoughts of your own.

“You’ve met Mor.” He gestured towards the female beside you who simply rolled her eyes. “Cassian, as I said, was the one that was injured as well and Rhysand is our High Lord of the Night Court.”

“Oh.” It was hard to keep your mind from the horrible memories, the thoughts making your heart hurt even more now that you knew their names. “Have you heard from Feyre?”

“She will be alright and will be back as soon as she can,” Mor answered confidently.

Your sister had obviously thrived since she had become High Fae and you couldn’t help but wonder if you or your other sisters would be able to do it as well even though you didn’t have much of a choice. A part of you wanted to adjust but at the same time, you were terrified of the life that you had been forced into. You were at least trying to be friendly even though Elain still refused to speak and Nesta was being her usual angry self.

You weren’t sure how to feel with everything that was going on around you but your mind began to drift back to your human life. Your favorite holiday would be arriving in a few months and you hoped that it would be something that would be accepted for the first time. Remembering that you didn’t know the male’s name, you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Are you stingy with your name?”

“No,” he chuckled, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I’m Azriel.”

“Azriel,” you repeated, finding that you liked how it rolled so simply off of your tongue.

He seemed to like it as well due to the smile tugging at his lips but you chose to ignore it, opting to eat what you could. You could feel his gaze on you and noticed it for yourself when you glanced from your peripheral as Mor began to tell you what Velaris had to offer.

“It sounds beautiful,” you sighed in awe.

“I could take you.” Your eyes met Azriel’s, noting that his expression was neutral even though you felt like he deeply wanted you to agree. “The city is meant to be seen at night.”

“I would expect nothing less from The City of Starlight,” you laughed, noting an emotion in his eyes that you couldn’t place.

With a nod in a silent goodbye, you went to find your sisters who were where you thought they would be. Elain was still staring out of the window with a blank stare and Nesta was in a chair in the room with her reading a book. Your oldest sister’s blank stare fell on you and since it made you feel unwelcome, you quickly left and opted to spend your day in your room. The feeling of loneliness was nothing new but it hurt even worse with the circumstances that were beginning to feel impossible to sort through.

As the day came to a close, you searched through the new wardrobe in hopes of finding something suitable. It was as if Mor knew of your struggle because she was flitting into the room as the afternoon was coming to a close. Her help was more than welcomed since you didn’t know how to dress up for anything at all. She chose a gorgeous blue dress and fixed your hair into loose curls. It was the prettiest that you had ever felt. Azriel’s face softened when you entered the dining room where he was waiting and he guided you to the balcony.

“The House is warded against winnowing so we will have to fly,” he started gently, watching you with nearly invisible caution. “There is always the option of the ten thousand steps to the city but that would ruin your beautiful dress.”

“I’ve never flown before.” It was hard to speak and keep the shock from the simple word from your tone before eyeing his wings. “It sounds scary.”

“I promise not to drop you,” he chuckled, the noise almost inaudible.

You nodded your head and nearly gasped when he picked you up gently, the feeling contradicting his size and obvious muscles. The flight down wasn’t as scary as you expected and you knew that Azriel was doing his best to keep you comfortable. He landed you both down next to what he called the Sidra and you couldn’t help but admire the sight. Azriel followed suit when you leaned against the railing and it was then that you noticed the blue stone on the top of his hand. Your attention turned to the scars and your heart immediately ached for him.

“They are siphons,” he explained to your silent question but stiffened when you placed your hand over his and ran a thumb over his scars.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, admiring how the kind male beside you had turned out that way despite the obvious trauma that he went through before giving him a soft smile. “Oh, your siphons are too.”

He smiled brightly, the sight taking your breath away in the process. You couldn’t help but return it before he placed a hand on your lower back and guided you further into the city. Amazement of the sights sent your heart fluttering and then it warmed when Azriel let you slip your hand into his.

Azriel couldn’t keep his disbelief hidden from himself when it was obvious to see that you deeply enjoyed his company. It seemed that you always found a way to gravitate towards him and a piece of him wondered if it was the unknown mating bond or if you were truly that attention starved. He always silently observed every interaction possible between you and your sisters but each one was short lived. It hurt his own heart for you since he knew what it was like to be shunned by your own family.

He had a day planned in the city with you when Rhys called him away to help Cassian retrieve Feyre. Even though you knew nothing, you were genuinely understanding and it only made him love you more for it. His heart only hurt worse when they returned with Feyre and you were barely acknowledged. He bristled when you glanced at his High Lord with a hint of fear radiating off of you. When tears lined your eyes, he couldn’t stop himself from pulling you into an empty hallway to pull you into his arms.

You melted in his embrace and silently cried for less than a handful of minutes before pulling away and wiping your eyes. If he hadn’t needed to watch Lucien, he would have taken you right then and there out to the city in hopes of lightening your mood and bringing the smile back to your face that he desperately wanted to see.

“My favorite human holiday is coming up next week,” you muttered before leaning against the wall behind you. “I wonder if they’ll celebrate it with me.”

“I would be more than happy to help with anything that you need,” he replied quietly before his heart clenched at the sight of your small smile.

The day before the holiday, he had followed you into the city to get all of the decorations that you needed. Between the shopping that he usually didn’t enjoy doing and helping you set everything up the next morning, he was happier than he had been in a long time. Any amount of time that he got with you was highly cherished and it always seemed that you felt the same. His heart dropped at your frown when his brothers and Feyre returned. The slight scent of your fear again had him bristling but forced himself to keep his face unreadable as he watched.

“I thought that we could actually celebrate now,” you said hopefully to the High Lady. “Maybe make things feel a little more like home in a way.”

“We didn’t want to do your holiday back then and we really don’t now.”

Nesta’s words when she entered the dining room had him glaring at her when tears filled your eyes. He nearly growled in his protective nature at the sight of your oldest sister who wasn’t phased by the sight that always had his stomach turning. She left with a scoff and roll of her eyes before disappearing again. It wasn’t until Feyre gave you a half hearted apologetic smile and disappeared after Nesta did you finally run to your room.

A glare at his High Lord who knew about the bond only had him seeing red when Rhysand simply shrugged and followed after his own mate.

Your time with Azriel became less and less the closer that the war came. Despite taking Cassian up on his offer to train, you weren’t anywhere near close to trying to go up against the simplest of opponents. Azriel always appeared proud that you had agreed to learn to defend yourself if need be. There was always an emotion in his eyes that you could never place when your eyes met but what you did know was that you were falling in love with him.

Even though you were worried about Elain when she was kidnapped, you couldn’t stop the hurt that hit you when you saw her in his arms. Your relief for your sister’s safety quickly changed into horror when you saw the injuries that he had received. You followed behind him quietly and stayed out of the way while he was tended to by Thesan. He would lock eyes with you every so often and give you a reassuring smile that had a tug in your heart pulling towards him.

Azriel stayed with you in your tent that night but even him holding you close against him did nothing to help you sleep. Your worry and fear ate at you about the war that would be taking place kept your heart and mind racing. Standing at the edge of the battlefield with Feyre’s new family and your sisters did nothing but refuel your terror. Hurt coursed through you to see the male that you had fallen in love with hand his dagger to Elain. You knew that you wouldn’t be anywhere near the fight as instructed.

“We will get through this,” Azriel whispered in a low voice that only you could hear when he returned to your side.

You gave a short hum in agreement but stepped away from him as heartbreak continued to swirl within you. With the shortest glance at the shadowsinger, you saw confusion and something akin to hurt on his face before he faced the battle beginning ahead of them. All that you could do was watch with tears streaming down your face and your own sobs escaping you when Feyre's pained screaming met you when it was all over.

You already knew what had happened and since you were all alone, you let yourself fall apart in the place that you had been left at and let yourself grieve for your sister. There was absolutely nothing that you could do to help anyone or anything but you had become used to it at this point in your life. Since there weren’t any other options for you, you disappeared into your tent, continuing to cry. You weren’t sure how much time had gone by before you heard the tent flaps move to find Feyre looking at you with tear-filled eyes.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she whispered as she began to cry and the pain in her eyes and on her face had your heart dropping. “Father- He-”

You already knew what she meant since you had seen his ships and you simply turned your back to her. A soft, pained sigh left your sister before she reluctantly left and your heart hurt even more at the fact that you didn’t know anything at all. You had truly been forgotten by everyone. All that you wanted was to be alone to try to sort through your emotions. It was already hard enough with the struggle that you were having with adjusting to your new life as High Fae but this added pain was too much.

Once you were finally able to return home, you secluded yourself into a room in the townhouse while everyone else gathered around. You wanted nothing to do with any of them but you were stuck in the court that you didn’t want to be in. Time passed in a blur and you even refused to be around Azriel despite his pained features when you told him to go away. The comfort that you had once felt around him had dissipated when you noticed his visible worry for Elain. You couldn’t blame him because your sister had always been the most beautiful and you would choose her over you any day.

“You’re doing what now?” you asked one afternoon when Feyre cornered you when you were finished eating, silent as you always were.

“Starfall is tomorrow and we need to get you a dress,” Feyre answered, speaking as if it was obvious.

“What is ‘Starfall?’”

“A Fae tradi-”

“So you’ll celebrate the things that the Fae do but you never bothered when I planned anything?” you snapped hatefully.

Feyre simply frowned before sighing and leaving your room. You sat brooding on your balcony, enjoying the light breeze blowing past you, wondering how things had turned out how it had. Being in Fae territory became even more unbearable by the day and you were beginning to not care if humans didn’t like your kind, half heartedly planning a return to the human lands. Before you could get into your thoughts much further, someone landed on the balcony beside you. Not just anyone, but the one in the group that truly scared you.

“I hear you’re opposed to Fae holidays,” Rhys began nonchalantly. “Why-”

“I’m not participating in your stupid traditions,” you snapped, taking steps back when he took enough steps forward and had you cornered with nowhere to go.

“And why, Y/N, do you refuse?”

“Because I don’t want to!” you yelled despite the fear that you knew he could sense.

“This is what you’re going to do.” He placed a hand on the railing on each side of you, hovering too close for comfort with a stern but angry expression. “You will be there tomorrow whether you like it or not. I will not have you ruining this night for Feyre. You will not like the repercussions if you upset her on her favorite holiday.”

With that, he left you there while you shook from the fear that you had just been left in.

Azriel had never imagined how much it would hurt to be pushed away by his own mate. You wouldn’t talk to him or even make eye contact. It was very obvious to everyone that you were miserable and he noted that depression had fully taken over you even and you always failed to conceal it when you tried. Every attempt that he made was always quickly shut down or simply ignored.

The night of Starfall, he barely saw you. You stood by yourself, refusing to speak to anyone that tried to engage in conversation with you by a half hearted smile. When he noticed that you disappeared, he followed your scent down the hall towards your room where he knew that you would be. His knock went unanswered but he let himself in anyway since the door wasn’t locked. He noted that your room was half decorated with the human holiday that you loved while you stood against the balcony in a simple dress that replaced your previous one.

“Are you alright?” he asked hesitantly, bracing himself to be told to leave.

“No.” Your answer was short and clipped but you didn’t bother to look at him as you continued to watch the sight of Starfall. “No, I’m not.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Why am I being forced to participate in something that I don’t want to be a part of?” you asked and he heard the anger beginning to fill your tone. “They were never a part of the one simple holiday that I tried to get them to enjoy. All that I wanted was to spread some joy in the crappy situation that we were in and even now, they still refuse to acknowledge it.”

“You didn’t have to join if you didn’t want to,” he assured gently, placing a hand over yours.

“Yes, I did,” you scoffed, causing him to raise an eyebrow in silent question. “Your oh so wonderful High Lord insisted. As a matter of fact, he threatened repercussions if I messed up wonderful Feyre’s favorite Fae tradition. I was forced to become a High Fae and now I’m being forced into traditions that I now want no part of.”

“Rhys did what?” he asked, his voice low with anger that was directed towards his brother.

“It doesn’t even matter anymore.” You went silent for only a moment before anger began to roll off of you. “You know what? It does matter. I will not allow them to walk all over me anymore.”

Azriel followed you in a hurry, hoping to do damage control when it was needed. All eyes fell on you when you stormed directly into the party. As if sensing your anger, Feyre’s eyes immediately locked onto yours. When you got too close, Rhysand gave him a stern glare in silent warning so he caught you around the waist to keep you in one spot.

“You are a shitty sister!” you snapped loudly, turning all eyes on you.

“What-”

“Oh, no. You don’t get to talk or ask questions.” He kept you in place despite your struggling as Elain moved beside the High Lady. “Both you have done nothing but shove me to the very back of your minds! Left me on the back burner! You didn’t even bother telling me that our father was dead until everyone was settled comfortably back in the camp!”

“We’re really sorry, Y/N-”

“You’re just as bad!” His arm tightened around you, pulling your back to his front when you began shaking in anger. “All that all of you have done was forget about me! None of your little ‘family’ even knew I existed! And even though you always disregarded my holiday that was always meant to lighten our troubles, your precious High Lord threatened me to participate in your stupid Fae traditions!”

Azriel’s eyes went wide with all of the information that you had just unleashed for everyone to hear. Even though everyone was staring at the confrontation with gaping mouths, he kept his attention on Rhysand who was trying to keep his power in check from his anger due to his own mate’s tears.

“Get your mate out of my city, Azriel,” Rhys ordered, the secret now revealed causing you to stiffen.

“What the hell is he talking about?” you asked, jerking out of his grip and shoving him harshly in the chest.

“I wanted to tell you but with everythi-”

“Oh no,” you chuckled darkly, tears now flowing freely down your face. “Yet another Fae tradition that I just have to deal with.”

“You don’t have to,” Azriel tried, desperation filling him just as much as his anger at his High Lord. “You-”

“Get away from me,” you snapped, backing away from him towards the door to the steps. “I’ll take care of myself just like I always have.”

With that, you darted for the door while he was left standing there in shock before the heartache took over him.

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen

@hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademejoin

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar

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renegadesstuff · 2 years

Text

Caskett in 1x07 'Home Is Where the Heart Stops' ✨️❤️

#castle #richard castle #katherine beckett #caskett #castle x beckett #beckett x castle #castle and beckett #beckett and castle #1x07 #Home Is Where the Heart Stops

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

Text

𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚

🕊️a whore's fairytale masterlist🕊️

summary - poor little sleeping beauty (you) has a tough day, from finding out who she really is, and falling into a deep slumber. is the prince able to awaken her?

warning - smut, somnophilia, dubcon (all my characters consent), choking, spitting kink, swearing, creampie, breeding kink, wife kink, kidnapping, cursed.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You were shocked to learn the truth, finding out you were a princess and that your real name wasn’t Briar Rose, you were told your parents had named you Y/n and that they had to send you off with the fairies because a woman named Maleficent cursed you. You had to take a few moments to collect yourself, learning that they were to take you back on your eighteenth birthday, which meant you were due to leave your home any moment now to go back to where your family supposedly lived.

As the four of you began to head off, your mind was full, thinking about your family, the curse, and the man you had met earlier that day. Oh, he was so handsome. You were saddened to hear the news that you were to be betrothed the moment you got to the castle. You didn’t want to be married off to a man you did not know. It didn’t sit right with you. Maybe if you spoke to your parents, they would understand and let you be with the man in the woods.

After the long walk, you had finally arrived at the palace, staring up at it with wide eyes, gobsmacked at the sheer size of it. The guards moved out of the way as you walked closer to the entrance, letting you in. Your blue dress that the fairies made as a birthday present clung to your body with each step. Small hands touched your arm, causing you to look down at Fauna. “We will have to leave you for a bit, my dear. We have some business to attend to before you are able to meet your parents.”

You give a soft smile. “That is alright, Fauna. I’ll be okay.” You assure them, watching as they leave. You begin to look around, admiring the artwork that litters the walls. Suddenly, a wisp of light appears in front of you. Your mind starts to go fuzzy as it pulls you into a trance, and your legs begin to follow as the light moves away from you, leading you toward a secret panel that opens when you are near. You walk up the winding staircase and into the hidden room.

Maleficent’s voice fills the room, coaxing you. “Touch the spindle! Touch it, I say!” Her command fills your ears, taking over your mind, and you have no choice but to obey. Your mind had taken over your legs, causing you to walk over to it. Your hand lifts, finger pointed, before a soft gasp escapes you when the spindle pricks your finger, causing it to bleed. You fall, eyes slipping closed into a deep slumber, not knowing of the dangers that lie ahead. Maleficent cackles as she appears over your unconscious body. “Oh, what a dumb girl.” She smirks as she spies into your mind and sees you dreaming of a man. “Hmm, if you want that man so badly, I guess I could give him to you.”

It was too late when the fairies realised what had happened. They looked at each other with wide eyes. They quickly become their former selves, allowing their wings and magic to take over and lead them to where you are. They would never have expected to be met with you, knocked out into a deep slumber with the one who cursed you standing above you in the same room. Their hearts race as Maleficent looks at the three with a deadly smirk, knowing they wouldn’t be strong enough to stop her.

“The three fairies! Flora, Fauna and…” Maleficent cocks her head to the side, “Merryweather, I’m guessing?” She waves her hand, scoffing. “Oh, well. I don’t care. I assume you came to get your girl? It is a shame. She would’ve done some good for the world.” She reaches down, running her fingers through your hair. “But, I’m willing to show the princess that the world isn’t so good and colourful. Goodbye.” With a wave of Maleficent’s hand, you and she disappear, causing the fairies to set off in a panic, frightened to tell your father, the king, the news.

Maleficent lays you on a soft bed, watching you as you sleep. “M–Maleficent, my queen. T–the prince, we found him…” She turns, raising a brow, waiting for her henchman to spit it out. “It seems he is waiting for the princess at the cabin, h–he seems impatient.”

“Hmm, that sounds perfect. Bring him to me!” She waves her hand before looking down at you. “You’re going to have so much fun, little one, and instead of true love’s kiss.” She scrunches her nose as those words leave her lips, not believing in such a thing. “Let’s make it something more… Extreme.” A dark grin appears on her face, knowing what the prince would do once he saw you. Her crow told her how the two of you got along in the woods and how the man couldn’t stop staring at your soft breasts and plump arse.

Ransom struggled against the henchmen, growling and swearing as they dragged him along. “Get your filthy paws off me! I’ll kill you for touching me! Don’t you know who I am!” The henchmen just shrug and huff, not caring. One of them grabs a cloth and stuffs it into the young prince’s mouth, wanting some quiet. They finally make it up to the room you are held in, throwing Ransom inside.

“Ah, finally.” Maleficent walks over, tilting his head up with her finger underneath his chin. “Hmm, you are quite handsome.” Her eyes drag across his face, getting what you see in him. Ransom’s brows furrow, unable to speak with the cloth in his mouth, his eyes fall upon your sleeping form, and he begins to wonder what the hell is happening. “But, you are not for me… Princess Y/n continues to think of you, and as you can see, she is currently in a deep slumber.” Maleficent leans closer to his ear, whispering. “Why don’t you find a way to wake her up.” She cackles as she straightens and waves her hand, disappearing in a puff of smoke.

His binds and cloth disappearing along with her, Ransom grumbles, shaking his head. “Fucking witches.” He stands, brushing off his clothes, and his head lifts as he peers at you, eyes drifting down your body. “Huh, so you’re the princess I’m meant to marry.” He walks close, tapping the blanket with the tip of his fingers. “I was ready to fuck you as a mere peasant girl, but knowing that you are much more, it’s so much better.”

It’s as though your body knows he is near. Your nipples harden and slick gathers between your thighs, your dreams turning sexual and dirty. You shift in your sleep, letting out a soft whimper as you dream of the handsome man in the woods, bending you over the log and thrusting into your tight cunt.

Ransom smirks as he watches you squirm. His cock hardens when he hears soft whimpers escape you. “Fuck, sweetheart. You sound so good, and I haven’t even touched you yet.” He strips from his clothes, sighing as his cock springs free from his slacks, no longer feeling tight and suffocated. Ransom pulls the blanket away from your body, his cock twitching when his gaze lands on your dress, wondering if it could get any tighter. He slowly gets onto the bed and crawls on top of you, lifting your dress higher as he moves up your body. “So beautiful, and all mine.” He pampers you with kisses, kissing up your body until he reaches your face.

Ransom groans when his leaking member connects with your bare cunt, and he grips his thick base, rubbing his swollen tip through your sopping folds. “Jesus, you’re so wet, sweetheart. What or who is making you so wet?” He raises his brow in jealousy, wondering who you could be dreaming of when he is here for you. “You know what? If you’re going to be a little slut in your dreams. Then I’m going to treat you like one.” Ransom growls, sick of competing with someone else when you should only be focused on him. He aligns his mushroom tip with your tight hole before thrusting in. His eyes close as he grunts, never having felt someone like you before.

Sweet moans pass your lips, dreaming of the handsome man in the woods gently lying you onto a blanket on the ground, pressing his hips into yours as he buries himself deeply into you, making love to you, marking your skin with his hands and lips. Your back arches in your dreams, arms wrapping around him, nails digging into his back.

Ransom moans, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Shit, sweetheart, you’re squeezing me so fucking tight. You’re sweet walls are fluttering around me like crazy.” He buries his face into your neck, peppering kisses along your skin and thrusting harder and faster into your sweet honey pot. “My sweet little sleeping beauty.” Getting lost in how good you feel around his member, he hastily grabs a pillow and shoves it under your hips before gripping them, giving him leverage. “When you wake, I’ll continue to fuck you. I’ll fuck you every day, even after you become my wife. I’ll pump you full every single day and night. You won’t think of looking at another man when you have me.”

He nuzzles closer to you, pounding harder as he kisses your cheek, moving closer to your lips, his eyes slipping closed, enjoying the feeling of you wrapped around him. “You’re mine, my sweet Y/n. All mine.” The moment his lips connect with yours, magic explodes around the two of you. Your eyes fly open, arms wrapping around him and your back arches. Ransom smirks, tilting his head back as he looks down at you with hooded eyes. “Ah, my sweet little sleeping beauty is finally awake. Do you feel that, sweetheart? Do you feel me inside you? Fucking into you, claiming you?” He fucks into you deeper, hitting against the hidden spot inside you. Ransom cups your cheek, glaring down at you with lust-filled eyes. His thumb lands on your bottom lip, pulling your mouth open. “You’re mine, understood?”

You whimper, feeling yourself throb around his cock, never having experienced pleasure like this before. Your mind is cloudy, being pulled from your dream to see it come true with the man you’ve fallen for. You claw at his back, digging your nails into his soft flesh. “O–oh, it feels so good, my prince!” You scream, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues to pound into that spot, allowing Ransom to spit directly into your mouth, smirking as you immediately swallow.

Ransom moves his hand between you, rubbing and rolling your swollen clit between his fingers. Enjoying the feeling of you squeezing his thick cock, he continues to pound into you, the hand that cups your cheek, moves to your throat and squeezes. “You’re going to cum for me, sleeping beauty, and then. I will pump you so full of my cum that it leaks out of you for months.” Your sweet moans fill the room, walls tighten around Ransom, your back arches, and you cum, your juices squirt out of you, covering everything. “Fuck, sweetheart.”

He captures your lips with his, thrusting harder and deeper until his cock twitches and his eyes slip closed. Ransom groans when his end approaches, burying himself deep inside you and emptying thick spurts of cum, coating your walls and filling you to the brim. He begins kissing down, resting on your neck, leaving soft kisses in his path. “My sweet little sleeping beauty.” Ransom lifts his head and stares deeply into your eyes, his softening cock still deep inside you, blocking his cum from leaking out. “You’re now mine forever.”

You hum, feeling your eyes begin to droop again. You would later learn not to fall in love with the first handsome man you laid your eyes upon.

thank you for reading!

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monarchberrysblog · 2 months

Text

DEARLY BELOVED

a short mini drabble that was HEAVILY inspired by a tik tok and it sparked the creative juices. (think of vampire! miguel while reading if you like) this might flop as this isn't a smut and this is a drabble that came to mind after seeing a silly tik tok

hope you all enjoy this — dia 🪻

A muse — Defined as a person or personified force that is the source of inspiration for a creative artist, it feels like a vexation for the man living in the dark corners of the castle where he called his home. The strong pull of this magnet, this attraction, weighed his cold heart down to the earth’s core. A weight on his chest. A feeling that should have vanished over the last century. But it abides and becomes middling.

Nonetheless, he didn't overlook it.

His warm palms rub your back in a slow, gentle action. The familiar sensation of his warm palms after holding his mug of tea was always your favorite feeling in the morning. The induced warmness against his fingertips provided a healing touch, similar to a heating pad against an aching cramp on the body.

“Desperta, querida.” The rasp in his morning voice vibrates your ear. You tossed and turned on the bed, staying in your blankets. You peer them open but shut them immediately and hide in the mount of soft Egyptian cotton. “No, no. Ya esta siendo tarde.” His fingers gathered a small chuck of your hair in between his fingers and moved your hair away from your face. (Wake up, love. It's getting late.)

His fingers brushed against the shell of your ear before he took note of a tiny mole in plain sight for his eyes to see. “You have a mole here.” You feel his finger tap on the alleged speck.

“No, I don't…” Your voice is muffled by the blankets, along with your barely parted lips. “I’m not lying, my dear.” His fingers work to move your hair away from your ear and tap on the speck once again. “Mmmh, your skin says otherwise.” His hand ruffles your hair in a playful gesture, leaving it to be a muss for you to brush out — officially giving you a task to do when you get out of the warm bedsheets.

“It's adorable.”

“I know what you're doing. And it's not going to work.” You continue to mumble on, making colorful words that make no sense to the human mind.

“Whatever you say, querida.”

A particular night always stuck out for Miguel.

A rainy, cold, stormy night. Thunder rumbled in the space around you two, following the flashing white light of lightning that lit up the room momentarily. The loud crash was enough to send Miguel back to a conscious state. He rubs his face with the palm of his hand and lets out a heavy sigh.

He glances over at you and sees a wet patch on the pillowcase next to your parted lips. If you wanted to, you could sleep through a tornado.

“Jesus…” His hand finds its way to your hair, gently massaging your scalp, his fingers lost in a sea of darkness known as your hair.

The pads of his fingers worked dainty patterns before gently cradling you close.

The clash of warmth made him melt like molten lava against the cold marble stone, crackling and oozing down the crevices with such grace.

“Miguel…” You squirm close to him and savor the warmth on his chest. His chest hair ticked your nose and cheeks, but the sensation of extra warmth never failed to send chills down your spine.

“Shhh, just go back to sleep.” The warmth of his hand runs down the length of your spine, stopping on your lower back and rubbing his thumb against the stretch marks. “Just go to sleep, querida.”

“Are you sure you're going to be okay?” He probes this question at you every time you leave the Victorian manor. “Yes, Miguel. I’m going into town to get more rosemary and herbs.” You pick up your tiny woven basket and look over to your concerned lover. You sigh and make your way over.

“Don’t worry, no one is going after us.” Your smile is enough to smooth the aching worry in his gut. “Are you sure?” He pokes the question again, earning him a small smile. You hum a yes, walking back towards him and holding his hands. “Yes, Miguel.” You giggle softly and massage his knuckles with your thumb.

“I’ll prepare your favorite dinner tonight.”

Miguel forces a soft chuckle before pulling you into a warm embrace. “Just make it home before sunset. Hunters have been around the forest.” His voice vibrates into your chest cavity, sending another ripple of warmth.

“I'll be careful.”

Hours slowly evolved into days, then weeks, and you never returned to the manor. At first, it was simple glances out the window, hoping to see that familiar silhouette Miguel adores whenever you come home. But nothing, as if you had ceased to exist.

A hunter who had mistaken you for a deer snatched you from the forest's shadows, leaving you alone on the forest floor, gasping for air.

Your hand loosens your grip on the small woven basket, spilling the contents out of the tiny basket and onto the forest floor. You always purchased nothing but herbs and two pomegranates for Miguel whenever you came into town.

The cobwebs and sorrows on the manor weighed down the environment over the next few decades, collecting a thick layer of dust bunnies and spiders crawling about. The tiny spiders crawl away at a door opening, letting candlelight pour in.

The room in question was a space you used to frequent. In the art room, he found you lounging around with a book or looking at his works of art, specifically his sketches of you.

There was an abundance of sketches on every flat surface in the room, varying from sketch to sketch. Sketches of you, lying in bed and tangled in your bedsheets. Some innocent sketches of you holding up a rabbit, showing its fluffy stomach to the world.

But the sketches were brushed off. Instead, Miguel made his way over to a particular pillar. A limestone blanketed with a worn-out bed sheet. He tugged off the fabric and saw the carved stone before him. The limestone before him showed a portrait of a young woman, specifically you. The curve of your mouth and the intricate detail of every strand of hair caught his attention. He remembered the tedious nights of his mallet and carving tools, having to alternate every other moment to capture the texture of your hair or the way your dimples appeared whenever you smiled.

His calloused fingers traced the sculpture's ridges and curves, feeling the cool marble against his warm touch.

"It's been a while, querida." He forced a small smile, his thumb stroking the cheek of the stone portrait. The smile was a pathetic attempt to hide the tears forming in his eyes, blinking them away as if it would contribute to burying those feelings.

"It's been a while."

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