#then why does he have the crown you may ask?

[yunamedkostobot]

Jacegan Week 2024: Day 2, Canon

drabble, 1.4k words

King Jace, AU, minor jacela(political marriage), mentioned jofhaera and Addam/Rhaena

The sun sets over King's Landing as Cregan stands near the Princevault — so this building with the slate roof and high carved doors is called now, with prince Daeron Targaryen, formerly the Daring, kept here. 

It was the surprise when not so long after the war ended, King Jacaerys Targaryen, former Velaryon, declared that his uncle, who barely survived the battle of Tumbleton, would not be executed, but instead held in lifelong captivity.

« I understand your concerns, my lords». — he said to the Small Council. — «But my uncle is not dangerous now. His dragon is dead. He lost his left arm and half of his foot in the last battle, he has numerous burns… He will not be able to fight for the throne. Nobody will follow the king who is crippled to such an extent. And he is still my uncle, and I don’t want to spill the blood of my relatives.»

«Why won’t you send him to the Nightwatch, your Highness?» asked Corlys Velaryon, Master over the Ships then and Cregan, who stood by here with Hand’s brooch on his doublet, was more than agree with him. 

If there hadn’t been a Bitterbridge massacre, Cregan could have even felt pity towards the fallen prince. But not after him demanding to kill all of his inhabitants even after the true killers of prince Maelor were executed. No, he does not understand why Jacaerys spared him. 

« He may be kidnapped by remaining Green supporters during the trip. Here, he would be under supervision. His niece may still visit him, though.» — Here he chuckled.

The only niece the imprisoned prince had was princess Jaehaera, who just goes out from the Princevault, in her blue dress, with her hands hold by both King Jacaerys and Queen Baela. The girl looks not really happy, but content — a wildly different from the tear-eyed, trembling girl Jace described here to him they found when the capital was captured. 

At first, when they didn’t know what to do with her. She was the daughter of the fallen king, of the man, who usurped his mother and abandoned his wife when she lost her son and went mad. But she was still a young, eternally frightened girl too. The better choice was to marry her to someone loyal to the king, who will not rebel to get a crown and has the possessions of his own. There were four men who may possibly wed her - king’s brothers Joffrey and Aegon, or his bastard brothers Alyn and Addam. Some people expected young Aegon to wed Jaehaera, but the King stopped those talks and decided to marry the girl to the middle brother, and also to marry lady Rhaena to Addam, who became the heir to Driftmark. 

«I do not think that Joffrey will be against his bride visiting her uncle when they visit the Red Keep. I am not gonna wed them now cause it’s gonna be nothing, but a farce in this case. I’ll wait until the princess turns at least thirteen and their wedding will happen here.»

«And your brother?»

«Will get a Dornish mark. It’s a hardly controlled region and we need  strongholds both against Dorn and usurper’s sympathizers in the Reach.»

Here, the king doesn’t tell all the truths. Jacaerys never told about it to the Small Council, but said once to him that the reason his uncles usurped his mother may lay in the fact they would not get anything except reduced to mere toadies if she will get a throne. His uncle and stepfather was a son of the king, but didn’t get anything except a place in the Small council and nothing to give his children except the dragon eggs. Cregan thinks there is nothing to pity the usurpers for, but he more than agrees that Jace’s brothers deserve to get their own lands. Granted, prince Joffrey has Dragonstone now, but when Queen Baela will give birth to the son, it will come to him. So, there are the Dornish mark for Joffrey, Cape Kraken for Aegon and Rain House, whose Lord’s family lost  it due to its association with usurper, for young Viserys. And two of them will get new keeps for their families, when the said keeps will be built. 

Cregan sighs as the King gets down on one knee, hugs his niece and then rises and kisses his cousin and wife, who looks gorgeous in her red dress despite being heavily pregnant, on her forehead. He is not of those who can think a lot about his past, but he hardly can believe that only two years have passed since the green dragon and his rider landed nearby Winterfell. Once they hunted together, played snowballs in secret,watched the night sky and  shared kisses in its darkness. Once merely a young grandlord and prince with a young dragon — now Hand and his King, who is gonna be father soon.

But are they the same persons who have fallen for each other during the visit to the North? 

Once they reunited after Jacaerys’s coronation and his mother’s funeral, he voiced his concerns about it. Jacaerys, who there did his best to make Cregan call him «Jace» again, didn’t smiled in vain attempt to make the situation look easier, but lowered his gaze and genuinely said that he didn't know this. He was thrown out of balance by the betrayal of the dragonseeds he recruited, his brother's death and his mother being killed by one of Larys Strong’s spies. Than, they couldn’t find the words to sooth each other and barely sat alone in the cabinet,  pressing their foreheads against each other, and somehow, this was enough. 

And so they decided — no matter what, to be here and watch for each other.

The princess and the Queen leave King Jacaerys, as he goes to him. In the sky, the dragon’s cry is heard, and Cregan wonders, what sea monster is brought to keep by Moondancer now. Last time, Queen Baela’s dragon dragged the whole shark to the Red Keep. 

«We need to discuss some things privately.» says Jace, when he comes to him and Cregan nods. 

Since the war, huge numbers of armies of North, Riverlands and Vale and Blacks supporters from other Kingdoms have occupied the Westlands, Stormlands, Kingslands and Reach — as the lands whose lords betrayed their true queen. In retaliation, they will be put under direct control of the king’s through loyal people for a temporary time. Kermit Tully got the Westlands, Lord Rovan got the Reach, Corlys Velaryon got the Stormlands, and Jeyne Arryn’s heir Joffrey Arryn got Kingslands. And Cregan thinks that the reason Jace called him to his rooms is somehow connected to this. 

They reach the king’s cabinet in a minute and the guards salute to them. They enter it a second after and Jace closes the door. 

Cregan can see the said cabinet. Poets and bards often talk about how wonderful the Red Keep looks like, and sometimes Cregan is ready to agree with them. There is the broken model of old Valyria made by Jace’s maternal grandfather, king Viserys, a huge table, a chair nearby and a fire burning in the fireplace. There are a bunch of letters on the table and a  ream of sheets next to them. 

Then, Jace shows him a bunch of letters. Cregan reads them patiently. These letters come from different cities - or better to say, from unions the prominent ones of these cities, like merchants or most skilled craftsmen. The number of cities are impressive: Weeping town, Vinetown, Pebbletown, Hull, King’s Landing itself, Duskendale, Lannisport, Tumbletown, Bitterbridge… The prominent ones of these cities are afraid - it’s visible in the tone of their letters. The war left them with no protection from the marching armies of lords, especially the traitor lords and so they are asking the king for protection. They will pay money directly to his representatives, will form city militias or empower the existing ones and put the directly to the king’s service if he’ll support them in their initiative.

And there Cregan understands. Now, there are Tully, Stark and Arryn armies keeping the order in former rebel territories, but it ain’t gonna last forever. Sooner or later, but they need to leave home… And then…

« Are you going to use city councils against the former rebel lords?»

And the smirk blossoms on Jace’s lips.

«Exactly». 

[little-pondhead]

Eyes Of The Past - OLD CH. 2

Part 1

[TW: swearing, mentions of death, sickness, and general spookiness]

The Batfamily was in turmoil. Something was wrong with the city; they could feel it. There was a heaviness in the air, which wasn’t there before. Clouds hung low over the skyline, heavy with rain that refused to fall. Citizens didn’t bother to wander the streets, even during the day. The buildings seemed to curl in on themselves like the city was trying to form a shield between her streets and whatever was to come. Even the criminals were staying quiet! Joker hadn’t made a peep in days.

So, needless to say, tensions were high.

“How’d the raid on the Lounge go last night?” Tim rubbed his face as Bruce entered the Batcave. They’d all been running themselves ragged, trying to find the source of their unease.

Bruce grunted. “Hn.”

“He was busted.” Barbara filled him in from over their loudspeakers. She pulled up footage of the previous night on the Batcomputer, letting Tim examine every pixel of the interactions. “One of the workers spotted him during the stakeout and warned the Penguin. Hood was there, too.”

“Red Hood?” Tim sipped his coffee, clicking through the fuzzy videos. “I wasn’t aware he was up for collaborations right now.”

“He was there for a business deal,” Bruce muttered, obviously sulking.

“Bruce got yelled at for ruining the whole setup.” Barbara snickered. She opened up a short, thirty-second clip of Red Hood chewing Batman out in the middle of some dark alleyway, a grumpy-looking woman in the Lounge uniform standing in cuffs next to them. “The woman is Tamia Brone, the supervisor on shift for the evening. She was seen with the employee who tipped off the Penguin. She’s being held at Gotham PD right now, but will probably be released this afternoon since she’s not affiliated with the underground part of the business.”

“So the bust was useless?” Tim summarized.

“Hnn,” Bruce grunted again. The big bat was still sulking, fiddling with his belt’s equipment. Tim sighed. Bruce always got like this when Jason got angry with him. He was all solemn and sulky and resorted to one-syllable words for communication. He wanted to look something up on the Batcomputer, Tim could tell. He was just waiting for Tim to be done.

“Fine.” Tim spun the chair fully around and popped out of the seat as gracefully as he could. “Take the chair, Bruce. What do you want to find?”

Bruce practically teleported to the chair, fingers flying over the keyboard as he cleared the cam footage except for the stuff that came from his own bodysuit. He zoomed in on the moment the employee spotted him, using a program to clean up the stray pixels for a clear face of the boy’s face.

Tim leaned over Bruce’s shoulder, watching him work. “Oh, shit,” he realized. “That’s a kid! What is the Penguin doing, hiring minors?”

Furious keyboard sounds were heard over their intercom. “There are no minors in his employee database. But there is one recent hire; Danny Nightingale, age 18. No middle name.” Barbara recited. “He fits the description of the kid there, but there’s not much on his file. It’s most likely a fake name.”

“He’s a busboy.” Bruce finally spoke up. “Here’s the conversation with his supervisor.” He typed a few last words into the computer, and the audio started to play.

“-and the boy. Who is he?”

“Boy? What the hell are you talking about, Bats.”

“The one by the dumpster.”

“Danny? Hey, don’t you even think about bringing him into this! He’s a good kid; the best busboy I’ve ever had. If you scare him off imma beat you six ways to Sunday, you hear?? I don’t care what your stabby sidekick says about it!”

“He’s not in trouble, I just-”

“Like fucking hell I’d believe that! He was the one who tipped off the boss, everyone in the building knows that! But that poor boy is just trying to do his job. That kid risked his own health and safety to warn his boss against someone who, in his eyes, threatened his livelihood.”

“Health?”

“What? You didn’t notice the poor kid had gotten sick? Some detective you are.”

“He shouldn’t be working if he’s sick.”

“Like I’d tell him that. Danny’s parents kicked him out as soon as he turned eighteen. He needs money, Bats. Gotham ain’t kind to kids like him, you know this. If he was really sick, I’d’ve sent him home.”

“So he wasn’t sick?”

“Don’t twist my words, bastard. He had gotten sick, not he was sick. Poor kid has some nasty allergies. One of the boss’ associates was wearing something that didn’t agree with him, and he threw up."

“Hn.”

“Don’t grunt at me, mister! It’s a legitimate allergy! Are discriminating against allergens now??”

“No-”

“Oracle! Hey! Don’t glare at me, I know they’re real-Oracle! Make sure to save this clip in case Big Broody over here gets his head stuck up his ass again. Maybe seeing how he’s treating a sick kid will burst his bubble sometime.”

“Will do, Miss Brone.”

“AHA! I knew they were real! You’re a real one, Oracle!”

“I’m taking you down to the station.”

“If I’m not let out before my next shift, I’m letting Poison Ivy know that Robin stores extra weapons in the park!”

As the audio faded out, Barbara giggled and Tim sighed again. “Who on earth is this woman?” He asked, draining the rest of his mug in a single gulp.

“I took some night classes with her, a couple of years ago,” Barbara answered, pulling up Tamia’s personal file. A strong-faced woman stared back at them. “She’s a spitfire, but a good person. Danny probably reminds her of her younger siblings. They died a while back, and ever since, she’s been super protective of young kids who are on their own. Volunteers at the library on the weekends for kid events, helps out at the Mystery Elf Program every year for Christmas, and stuff like that.”

“How did she know about my weapons?”

Tim swore and jumped, turning on his heel. Damian, the little monster, had snuck up behind them again. Bruce just spared him a glance and went back to sifting through their files.

“Kids tell her things.” They couldn’t see her, but they could tell Barbara just shrugged at their inquiries. “Robin has a small cult following among the younger kids in Gotham, so Tamia basically has eyes and ears everywhere.”

“So we should investigate her.” Tim mused.

“No-”

A roar of a motorcycle interrupted them. Jason peeled into the Batcave on his motorcycle, barely coming to a complete stop before he jumped off and sped to the computer. 

“Move, old man.” Jason snarled, practically hauling Bruce out of the seat to take his place.

“How dare you, Todd!”

“Shut up, Demon Brat!” Jason growled again, never looking away from the monitor as his fingers flew across the keyboard. 

Tim flinched. He knew, without having to look, that Jason’s eyes were glowing bright green right now. He was on the verge of a Pit episode. Usually, this meant he’d hole up in his many safe houses and drop off the grid for a while. The only reason he’d be in the Batcave right now was if he needed to find someone. Someone to kill. 

“Oh, good.” Jason leaned back. “You already started researching him.” Everyone looked on in dawning horror as Danny Nightingale’s exhausted and startled face looked at them, the screenshot taken from Batman’s body suit camera. 

“Jason…” Bruce started. 

But Jason wasn’t listening. “No one is allowed to go after him.” He simply announced. “I have questions for this kid, you ain’t getting in the way of that.”

“You can’t kill a civilian, Todd.” Damian challenged.  

Jason stood. Green light leaked from his mask, and his muscles were tensed like he either wanted to run for his life or throw hands. Tim took a step back. “That,” he ground out, pointing at Danny’s picture. “Is not a civilian. That is a threat.”

…

Danny felt like shit. 

It’s been two days since he frantically tipped off the Penguin to the Bat’s presence, and ever since, the Lounge has been shut down for unforeseen reasons. He didn’t know why, he was just a busboy. His boss had taken the news in stride, ordering him to book it out the back with some of the other servers. Tamia was on his heels the entire time, directing them all down a side alley with ease before getting snatched by Batman herself. Danny had screeched to a halt, intending to go back for her, but one of the bartenders had gripped his arm and hadn’t let go, hissing, “She’ll be fine! You’re the one who needs to get out of here!” Reluctantly, Danny complied, no matter how horrible he felt after. 

When everyone had split up, the bartender told him to only return to work when the boss told him to. Then, they all went their separate ways, and Danny woke up the next morning with an extra $3k in his bank account. 

To be honest, he spent that first day anxiously sneaking around the city, checking in on all his coworkers that were present that night. Everyone was okay, for the most part. The bartender who had dragged him was passed out on a shitty couch, beer bottle in hand, and one of the waiters was being yelled at by her boyfriend for having her shift cut short. Danny’s core ached at the sight. So when forgotten cans of coke in the back of their fridge exploded from a random spike of cold and cut the argument short, he hoped she didn’t mind his interference too much. 

Tamia, however, took longer to track down. To his horror, she was sitting like a grumpy cat deep within Gotham’s police station, glaring at any officer that tried to approach her. He was forced to tap into his invisibility, but he eventually snuck past security and over to her holding cell. He waited until she was alone, before letting out a tiny, almost inaudible rumble from his core, slipping through the bars with intangibility. The two shades at Tamia’s neck perked up, instantly zeroing in on him. While the older woman couldn’t see the shades, she must have felt something as well. She stiffened, glancing around subtly. 

“Who’s there?” She hissed. 

Danny shifted. He was…uncomfortable. But Tamia had done so much for him. “It’s me.” He whispered back, stepping closer and leaning close to her ear. Tamia flinched back, eyes darting to his face. He was still invisible, thank the Ancients. 

“Danny??” Tamia regained control of her expression and went back to her brooding look for the cameras. “What the fuck???”

“Sorry, Tam.” He apologized. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine, Danny. How are you here?”

“Uh…” He didn’t know how to answer that, so he just told her the truth. “I snuck in.”

Tamia gave his general location a side-eye. “You know Batman doesn’t like metas in his city.” 

And that was a tipping point, wasn’t it? Danny’s core buzzed in his ears with anxiety as his voice shook. “Are you going to report me?”

Tamia snorted, covering it up with a cough as a cop passed by. “Hell no. You’re a good kid, Danny. I’d never turn you in, even to the Joker.” 

“Ah,” he said awkwardly. “Thanks. Uh, do you want me to get you out of here?”

Tamia tilted her head. Her hair had come loose from its bun, with strands of curly hair falling into her eyes. “No,” she decided. “The boss has plans in place for things like that. I’m a legal employee and a good one he won’t leave to rot. I’ll be out of here by the end of the day. I’ll be alright.”

He sighed. “If you’re sure…”

“I am. Go home, Casper. Get some sleep.”

Danny’s face twisted at the name, but he nevertheless bade his supervisor and the two shades goodbye and walked back out the front doors of Gotham PD, not bothering to fly. Flying meant he had to go ghost, and that meant he had to deal with…other things. 

He decided to sleep the rest of the day, extremely spent from all the extra energy he had used up. Danny didn’t rise again till noon the next day, at which his stomach finally made itself known, demanding he seek out food. He lay on his bed for an extra hour, trying to desperately ignore the grumbles in his belly, but finally gave in, grabbing some cash to stuff in his pockets and making his way out of the shitty apartment building he lived in. Two kids threw rocks at his face as he passed through the front doors, but he just sidestepped and ignored them, letting the stones shatter the glass doors instead. 

The clouds are low. The Knights are away. Shades whispered and writhed at the edges of his vision. The Lady is sick.

Leave me alone. Danny groaned and rubbed his forehead. These days, the words of the dead seemed to pound at his head like a sledgehammer, relentless. An uncomfortable heat was building in his head. He ignored it. 

Danny rounded a corner and entered a gas station. “Hello!” The cashier greeted him, too cheery for the job they were working. “Let me know if you need anything!” He waved in acknowledgment and shuffled between aisles, staring blankly at the brightly colored packages of cheap food. His eyes couldn’t focus on the labels, so he just grabbed something with a cheetah on it. Danny then shuffled to the next aisle over and snatched a large bottle of something pink and bright. The cashier gave him an impeccable customer service smile, which he tried to return. 

“Personally, I like the smell of the blue flavor.” They scanned his items, and he had to nod and pretend he knew what they were talking about. “Here you go, that’ll be $6.27. Would you like a bag?”

“No,” Danny shook his head. “Thank you.”

“Have a nice day!” The bell rang over the sound of the cashier as Danny left. He was too tired and hungry to give them a proper response. 

Gotham’s skies were still dark and cloudy, which for once, Danny was thankful for. Sunlight would probably make his growing headache worse. He wandered around for a long while, just taking in the sights of the city. He didn’t know why, but less and less people had been on the streets these days, giving him a slight break from the relentless stares and whispers. He just had to avoid certain areas that were clouded with death, and he was good to go! He was free to walk around aimlessly all he wanted. 

Today, it seemed, his wanderings took him to a small, silent park. He pushed open the tiny gate and snuck inside. It was quiet as a cemetery, and looked like one, too. Hell, if Danny was in his right mind, he would have realized it was a cemetery. He’d argue later that there were no spirits around, so how could he have known? There was just a profound sense of emptiness that was suffocating the whole area, but Danny was so fed up with the rest of the city, he barely noticed. 

Instead, he simply made himself at home on a stone bench off to the side and tore open his feast, not tasting anything as he chowed down on the chips. A faint tingle on his tongue told him the chips were spicy, but how was he supposed to taste anything when his tastebuds were dead? Soon, the chips were gone, bag and all. (The only perk of being dead was that he acted as his own personal trashcan. Nothing was littered with him around!) Cracking open his heavy drink, Danny took a sip and stared at the sky. Just thinking about nothing as the day passed and the evening set. 

It’d been a long day. 

…

Jason jerked. Shivers ran up his spine, and the green in his vision got stronger. He was in the depths of a pit episode, some part of his brain told him. No one had been hurt yet. 

But someone was about to be. 

Jason jerked again and lunged for his front door, ripping off the lock Tim had put on it (trying to cage him like an animal) with his bare hands. He had no shoes, no helmet, no mask, nothing. But he bolted out the front door in a blind rage. His world was greengreengreen. 

A snarl ripped itself out of his throat as he jumped the last two stories from the main staircase to the ground level. His landing left a small indent on the tile. (How did he do that?) The front doors were already wide open, he’d left it that way. Jason tore down the street, silently thankful there was no one on the streets. 

Someone was going to die tonight. Someone had walked over his grave. 

Jason’s chest heaved as he bolted through alleyways, taking shortcuts to get to the one place he always refused to visit. There was a Bat following him now. Which one? Probably Nightwing. It didn’t matter. His hands were curled and his footsteps were loud. His heart pounded in his head, egging on the Pit. Phantom fingers ran down his arms, pushing his shoulders so he’d go faster. The city bent in on itself. Streets seemed to straighten out, letting him have a clear shot toward his target. 

He burst from the alleyways in a sudden rush, and Jason skidded to a stop to get his bearings. His feet were bleeding, he could tell. Whatever. His green eyes were glued to the tiny, limp figure of Danny Nightingale resting on a stone bench not five feet away from Jason’s grave. The one he was buried in. The one he crawled out of. The kid had walked on his grave. 

Jason rushed forward with a roar. 

“What the FUCK?!” Danny startled upright at the sound, quickly spotting Jason and scrambling to his feet. He had a half-filled bottle of pink Fabuloso cleaner in his hand but dropped that quickly when Jason lunged for him. 

“Jason!” Someone yelled, trying to grab at his shoulders. But Jason was too far gone in the pit rage, now. He was almost animalistic, growling and clawing at the kid’s retreating figure. Blood was getting smeared over the dead grass, with bits of glass from the alleyway being pushed farther into his skin. 

“Shit, man! I didn’t know this was your Haunt!” Danny’s eyes were filled with fear and worry, but his gaze was fixed solidly on a spot above Jason’s head. 

“This was my grave!” Jason managed to screech. He got a lucky hit in, and the kid tumbled away, clutching his shoulder where a bruise was already forming through his thin clothes. 

“I didn’t know!” Danny yelled again. He made no move to fight back. 

“THIS WAS OUR GRAVE!” 

Something is wrong. A sudden, clear thought entered Jason’s head. It was like cold water had splashed him awake. These were not his words. These were not his actions. Jason was not in control of his body. 

Something else was speaking for him. 

A wail ripped itself out of his throat. Danny rolled to the side, avoiding his lunge. Jason could only watch helplessly as the kid was backed into a corner. For every step Jason took forward, Danny took two steps back. The kid was too used to this. He moved with too much ease, avoiding Jason’s wild swings like he could predict every movement. 

“Dammit, JASON!” Two pairs of hands gripped at his shoulders this time, forcing him to turn. Nightwing and Orphan (when had she gotten here?) tried their best to wrestle him down, heaving with the effort. 

“No! Don’t!” Danny bolted forward, right as Jason lunged for his own family in a haze of green. Time seemed to slow, and logically, Jason knew there was no way in hell Danny would have made it in time to do anything. Jason knew he was about to hurt his family, badly. He was about to break bones and claw at vulnerable skin. He was about to look his sibling in their eyes and see their hearts shatter. Jason was bout to break apart their family. Again. 

Then Danny screamed something, there was a flash of light, and suddenly there was a wall of fucking fire separating Jason from his siblings. From the outside world. 

Jason barely managed to avoid the flames, tucking himself into a sharp roll and popping up with his teeth bared. 

His brain tried to process what had just happened. 

His body screamed in rage.

His prey had disappeared. 

In Danny’s place floated a young boy. His eyes were as green as Jason’s. An iron crown wreathed in flames was set upon his head upside down, the sharp points causing rivers of green blood to run down from his hairline. Iron shackles chained his hands together. Pieces of charred armor clung to his body by thin straps. There was a chill in the air, and despite the fire, ice was starting to grow from the ground in a ring around the boy, curving and sharp, like it was trying to trap him in.

The boy looked at him, and Jason saw that he was crying.

...

[oOoOoO cliffhanger~]

[nebulaafterdark]

The Succession (Part 2)

Summary: After the battle of Rook’s Rest, Queen Y/N is forced to rule alongside Prince Regent Aemond, in an attempt to keep her children safe and eventually seat her mother, Rhaenyra, on the throne. While attending her husband, on what appears to be his deathbed, she begins to unravel the dark truth of his near passing.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Part 1

Y/N wakes to a knock at the door. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she sits upright. Aegon is still there, unmoving beside her. “Come.”

“Good morrow, your grace.” Her lady in waiting, Chérie, bows her head upon entry; a powder blue gown draped over one arm. “You must break your fast.”

“What ungodly hour is it?” The Queen grumbles, stretching both arms above her head.

“Nearly midday, my Queen.”

Y/N nods, taking her hand. “I need a favor of you.”

“A bath?” Chérie smirks.

Y/N stares down at herself, nightgown stained with blood and gods know what else. She huffs a laugh, “that as well.”

“I will ready the tub.”

“Chérie?”

“Are you seeking comfort, your grace?” She has lost her grandmother and her husband’s good health, “I could tend you.”

“No.” Y/N stares down at her hands.

“Forgive me for assuming.” She takes a step back, “I only want to help.”

Y/N moves forward, closing the space between them. “It was kind of you, Chérie. I appreciate your devotion, more than you know. There is something different I need of you.”

“Name it.”

“You know things…I must know them.”

“What is it you need know?” Chérie wonders.

“The truth of what happened at Rook’s Rest. I do not pretend to understand Aegon’s motivations. Gods willing, I may be able to ask him one day. But for now, I need know what befell him. Cole dances around it, the Hightowers will never be truthful with me.”

“Is there anything you do know? A talking point that might be of use as I consult the servants?” Chérie wonders.

Y/N leans in. “Helaena and Aemond stood at the foot of his bed last night. She asked if it was worth the price. Aemond denied any knowledge of what she meant. Still, Helaena does not speak to cause upset, she speaks when she has something to say. If he’s done this…the whole of our line may be in danger.”

Chérie sighs, “somedays I am glad to’ve been born a commoner.”

“For that I do not fault you.” Y/N forces a smile.

Chérie steals a glance at the king. “Will he live?”

“We’ve no way of knowing. I pray to the gods for his recovery, but it is a long road. He will never be as he was, so long as he lives, it matters naught to me.”

————————————————————————

“There’s been word from King’s Landing.”

Rhaenyra’s head snaps up.

“Aegon has fallen, the stranger looms over his head. With Vhagar weakened in the attack, now is the time to act.”

“And what of my daughter?” The Queen ticks a finger against the table. “Has she been spotted since Aegon’s coronation?”

“We believe the princess lives, your grace. But upon second hand testimony, smallfolk in the streets, we cannot say for certain.”

“What was she doing?” Rhaenyra wonders, “my girl, when they saw her in the streets?”

The lords look to each other, “she marched beside the carriage with Aegon’s body.”

“That is proof enough. I must send word to her, she cannot think we have turned our backs on her. With Aegon gone, she may very well be Aemond’s next attempt.” Rhaenyra is sick over it.

“You must trust, as we have, that Aegon will care for her.”

“He cannot care for her, upon his deathbed. Should he pass, we leave her to whom? Aemond and Alicent? She will be put to the sword.” Rhaenyra shakes her head.

“Meleys was our largest dragon, your grace.” Ser Alfred reminds her.

“Which is why I must go.”

“You cannot, my Queen. You are the crown.”

“I will go.” Jacaerys fists the hilt of his sword.

“No,” Rhaenyra scoffs. “It is out of the question. You will be taken or slain.”

“Would you rather my sister or me?” Jace squares his shoulders. “Those are your choices.”

————————————————————————-

Y/N forces her meal down, spending the evening in her children’s rooms.

“Mama,” Visera calls to her, “I’ve made something for father.”

“I helped!” Dahlia chimes in. “Laenor wanted to, but he rubbed his hands all over it. The painting was nearly ruined.”

“Say it isn’t so, my loves.” Y/N lifts her eldest son onto her hip. “Shall I kiss his head off?”

“Yes.”

“Do it.”

Y/N smiles, peppering Laenor’s sweet face with kisses as he squeals, thrashing wildly in her hold.

Dahlia and Visera giggle, entertained for the moment.

“And you, my prince, best have learned your lesson.” Y/N says, releasing her son onto the floor.

He scampers away, still screeching with glee.

“Mother?” Dahlia tugs at her mother’s skirts.

“Yes, my darling?”

“When will we see father?”

Y/N sighs, “come, sit with me.” She pats the cushions on either side of her.

Her daughters look to each other, then join her on the settee.

“Do you remember what Papa told you about sickness? How it is a war we wage alone, within our bodies?”

“Is he ill?”

“Not exactly,” Y/N explains, “nevertheless, his body is at war now. Battling to repair itself from great wounds, some we cannot see. Every hour, he is fighting his way back to us. But he must remain abed for now, in a state of sleep.”

“May we watch him sleep?” Visera wonders.

“I fear you might be saddened by it.”

“Why, Mama?”

“He looks a bit different, on the outside. But on the inside he is the same.” Y/N says, fighting for composure, “we mustn’t touch him, lest we cause more pain. And it is hard to keep our distance, when all we truly want is to wrap him in an embrace.”

“Mayhaps when we see him, we might hold each other instead.”

Y/N looks to her eldest daughter. “On the morrow, after his bandages are changed, I will bring you. And if it is too much for you, there is no shame in saying so. We love him dearly and he knows it.”

“That is what matters, I think.” Visera says, “if I were waging war, I would want to know someone loved me.”

————————————————————————

Y/N sneaks down to the kitchens for a bit of cake, heading to Aegon’s apartments to eat it. The doors open onto Aemond, leaning over Aegon’s body.

“What are you doing?” She has no weapon, if she’s to kill him now, it will be with her bare hands or a serving spoon.

Aemond turns to her, with sly smile. “My brother was asking for you. He woke in pain, I was merely supplying him with milk of the poppy.”

Y/N forces her mouth to turn upward, “very kind of you, I thank you for looking in on him.”

Aemond nods, setting the empty cup on the bedside table. “Of course.”

“When he asked for me, what did he say?” She wonders, lying her plate of cake beside it.

“Only your name.”

Y/N nods.

“You have been a good and faithful wife to him. Aegon is blessed to have you.”

“Aemond,” Y/N breathes, “might I ask you something?”

His eye flickers about her, “of course, sweet niece.”

“What do you think was his undoing?” She motions to Aegon, “if you had to say?”

“Vanity…pride.”

“It would be suited,” Y/N forces the awful words past her lips, “for someone to take that from him.”

“You should not say such things, my Queen. The thought alone is truly depraved.”

“Of course, forgive me.”

“What befell my brother is nothing short of a tragedy.” Aemond purrs, “you must keep your wits about you.”

“Were they locked in battle?” Y/N asks, “when my grandmother gave Meleys the order?”

Aemond purses his lips, “when dragons fly to war, it is men who burn. Aegon is not the first, he will not be the last. You should be grateful he returned to you.”

“I have lost a brother to war.” Y/N says, as if he needs reminding. “I know its cruelty.”

“A shame, indeed.” Aemond hums.

“I hope it was worth the price.”

“Y/N.” Alicent calls, “Aemond, what are you doing here?”

The prince looks to his mother, “I was merely checking in on our king.”

“You are kind to do so,” Alicent swallows, “as his wife is now here, you are relieved of said duty. Unless you wish the three of us to hold vigil.”

“Perhaps another time, mother.” Aemond nods, “I’ve more pressing matters to attend.” He brushes past them, closing the door to Aegon’s bedchamber behind him.

“What were you thinking?” Alicent demands, in a hushed whisper. “My son pleads for your life and you stand here tempting the very man who-”

“The very man who what?” Y/N dares her to say it. “Killed my brother? Or are you referring to some other atrocity I am not privy to?”

“Your children are in danger, my grandchildren, let me help you.” Alicent reaches for her.

Y/N bats her hand away, “don’t you touch me! My children are in danger because of you.”

“You know what Aemond is.” Kinslayer. Alicent swallows, hard. “My only concern is keeping you safe. What is to stop him from taking out the whole of Aegon’s line to make room for his own? The smallfolk riot in the streets, demanding we open the gates. Even they wish to flee, it is all going to ruin. They need to see you.”

“They will see me as you parade my body through the streets after my murder, not a moment before. I will not betray my mother or her claim.”

“I am not asking you to stand against Rhaenyra, I am asking you to stand for my son. Before it is too late. You owe him this. You forced him onto that saddle as much as I forced him upon the throne.”

“I?” Y/N snaps, “I am the one you blame for this? You think I would have my husband reduced to ash over a fucking chair?”

Alicent presses her lips together, “all Aegon has done is in your name. He rose and he fell for you alone.”

“I wanted this to be peaceful, you know. I truly did and my mother did, then again and again I was taken for a fool.”

“Aegon loves you. He went to meet Rhaenys for you, in hopes of creating new terms with your mother. Mayhaps others have used you, like a pawn to carry out their own agenda, but not Aegon. He never plotted, he never wavered, even in his condition, you are the agenda.”

“And I love him for it, but please know I did not ask him to meet with her. I would have gone myself rather than risk his life. That is why I have not fled, or stole away with my children to Dragonstone. Aegon is equally important to me.”

“You must ready yourself then, in the color of our house.”

“No,” Y/N narrows her eyes, “this is for my husband, who hangs precariously in the balance of life and death. I will attend this procession in the color of mourning, not Hightower green.”

————————————————————————

In the absence of Daemon, Rhaenyra turns to Mysaria for counsel. “You know the ins and outs of King’s Landing better than any. I need an in.”

“Criston Cole made a mistake, parading a dragon’s head through the streets, like a prize of war. The people see an ill omen.” Mysaria tells her.

“Yes, as do I.”

“They are afraid, bread is scarce. The king has fallen, they whisper to each other that when Viserys lived there was peace.” They question the succession.

“But will whispers tear down stone? Break shields?” Save my daughter?

“Do not underestimate them, to the discontented, rumors are feed.” Mysaria continues. “What you cannot do, let others to do for you. There is more than one way to fight a war.”

Part 3

Series Taglist: @oh-you-mean-me @barnes70stark @lovelyteenagebeard @niyahnotnia @narwhal-swimmingintheocean

[shadow4-1]

I'm just imagining an a/b/o dynamic where the entire 141, including you, are all Alphas. Except, after a few years of such close contact something starts to shift.

You start to become an Omega.

"Why is this happening to me?" You all but wail. It hurts to breathe, everything feels like it's on fire. Your stomach twists again, painful cramps shooting white hot lighting up your spine. "Why does it hurt so bad?"

Your pack is all around you, trying to soothe you in anyway they can but it's not working. Everything hurts, your teeth feel like they're going to crack from how tight you have them gritted. The wave of pain ebbs for a few gracious seconds before starting up all over again. You whine and sob and reach out for any of your team.

"Whats going on?" Price huffs, his cool hand cupping at your face. His touch is the barest relief even as he drags down one of your lower eyelids. He tuts in an intense concern. "Simon, have you seen this before?"

The larger male drops to one knee. He gives you a quick once over before dipping his head towards yours. He presses the front of his mask to the crown of your head. Through your labored panting you barely hear him take in a deep inhale of scent.

He coughs and stands back up too quickly. Judging by his flighty gaze, something is seriously wrong. Another tremor of pain wracks your body. You open mouth squeal. It's getting so much worse.

"Simon!" Soap growls, trying to bring his fellow alpha back from whatever memory he'd fallen into. "What's wrong wit' 'er?"

"She's turning into an Omega."

Everyone in the room turned their gazes towards Ghost, even you, despite your pain. You? An Omega? But you've always been and Alpha. It was part of the necessary requirements to be a part of the 141. You'd been genetically tested, hormonally tested, and aptitude tested. You were a full blooded Alpha coming from generations of Alphas.

"There's...ngh...no way." You hiccup out, tears blurring your vision.

"That doesn't make any sense. That can't happen." Gaz adds. He rubs at your back. His cool touch soothes even more of your pain into a dull throb, but it isn't enough.

"M' n' Alpha!" You cry out in anguish, the first of many tears finally dripping down your cheeks.

Something about Ghost's words hurt worse than any pain your body was making you go through. Try as you may to deny it, he was right. You could feel your body changing, altering, breaking and bending.

"Why is this happening to me?" You wail.

"There's too many of us." Ghost huffs, he glances around at your pack.

"Why does that matter?" Soap grumbles, scooping an arm around your center to pull you up into a sitting position. "We're a pack."

"That's just it." Ghost sighs tiredly.

"I've never heard of this being 'n issue." Price butts in. He grabs your face again and brushes the tears off your cheeks. "Task Forces are fully Alpha run. They 'ave been for years."

"If what Ghost is saying is right, it's biological, Captain." Gaz huffs, his thoughts visibly racing. "Too many Alphas, not enough Omegas. It means we'd go extinct."

"But why didn't she change earlier?" Johnny asks. You teeter in his hold but he keeps you upright. He lets you lean against his chest. He smells more comforting than usual.

"It's hormonal. She's been with us almost three years now, it takes time." Ghost says. Price nods in agreement.

"I'm an Alpha!" You sob, trying wrench yourself free from the multiple men around you. "I- I don't want to be bred. I don't want to be claimed! I'm an Alpha!"

"We're know you are, Love." Price breathes softly. He continued to wipe tears away from your face with a tenderness that only makes your despair swell further. "But this is happening, and we can't stop it."

"Take me to sick bay, please. They'll...they'll put me on blockers or something! Please, anything but this! I don't want to be an Omega."

The pack looks toward Ghost but he shakes his head.

"This is you first heat. The blockers will kill you."

You scream in pain, fear, and frustration. Another wave of excruciating pain washes over you. You wrench out of Soap's grip and fall against the floor. The tile is cool against your flushed skin.

As much as you hate him for it, Ghost is right.

This is your first heat.

Your back arches off the floor. Your toes curl and you squeal, shaking, gasping, panting hot breaths. You can feel yourself start to sweat. There's a sudden gush of wetness between your thighs. Embarrassment floods you. You try to curl into a ball but your body keeps being wracked with tremors.

"H-help me..." You cry out weakly, sobbing into the tile.

Your pack seems to finally get a whiff of your fluctuating scent. All around you, you watch as one by one each of their gazes grow more and more pointed. All of you know what must be done. After all, you're an Omega now.

...and there's no going back.

[luveline]

also didn’t realise that amanda was their little baby but here’s an idea if ur up for it. amanda inherits like spencer’s smartness i guess and so when she starts spewing facts about the random-est stuff spencer’s overjoyed and then bombshells just staring at them with adoration in her eyes?? idk something really fluffy

“Shoes?” Amanda asks. 

“Yeah, babe.” 

“No thanks.” 

You hold Amanda’s socked feet in your hands. “You need shoes to keep your feet warm.” 

“I’ll have socks.” 

You look past her tiny face to her father for some assistance. Spencer scratches his neck, looking absolutely exhausted, though he’s dressed sharply. You’d spent a few minutes finger curling his hair this morning before it dried, and he’s brushed them out gently, giving him a windblown look. You pretend to take a photo of him. He rolls his eyes. 

“Amy,” he says lovingly, baby-voice in play as he leans over the back of the couch, “you know why you have to wear shoes?” 

“Why?” 

“Because growing up, your feet are very small, and very fragile. They need time to grow in proper structures, and they can’t do that if you don’t wear shoes when you’re walking a lot.” He gives her shoulder a rub. “Don’t you wanna match me and mommy?” 

“You wear shoes… different. Mom has heels,” she insists. 

“What if I wear flats?” you ask, eager to leave the house before afternoon. 

She shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest with a Spencer style pout. 

Spencer sits down next to her with a sigh. You’re both aware of how smart she is for her age, and while it can be interesting, it’s also made some stuff so, so hard. Like explaining shoes. “I’m not want to wear them. It’s good for my skin to breathe.” All her r’s sound soft, like w’s.

You rub your eyes. Spencer sucks in an excited breath. “Yes! Skin can’t really breathe, but it’s good to have it uncovered sometimes to help your circulation and your pores.” 

“‘Xactly,” Amy says. 

“And, you know, shoes that don’t fit right force your feet into narrow positions, which can cause a whole bunch of problems.” 

“No shoes,” Amy says. 

“But…” Spencer backtracks, thumbing under her eyelashes gently. “If you don’t wear your shoes, we can’t go out to the store for groceries and we can’t go to the bakery on the way home. Which means you won’t get your sugar donuts, mommy won’t get her slice of cake, and that’s gonna make me so sad.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I love when your mom is happy. It makes me happy when she’s happy. She doesn’t look very happy now, does she?” 

In all honesty, you’re much too pretty to be sitting on the floor, tights to the carpeting and your cute black dress bunching up your thighs. You refuse to close yourself into the ‘mom’ box some may expect of you, dressing as you had before you became a mom, but you’ve allowed Amanda the opportunity to choose your necklace; a gold pendant ring with green and pink sapphires. It’s gorgeous, colourful, and doesn’t even slightly go with your outfit. Spencer reaches for it now, tugging it straight carefully against your neck. 

You frown deeply, pulling your widest, softest doe eyes. “Please, lovely girl, put your shoes on. Or I’m gonna have to be strict, and I hate being strict.” 

“Don’t fw-own, mommy,” she says, listing into Spencer’s side, “you’ll get wrinkles. Worse wrinkles, ‘cos your muscles remember.” 

And again, all her r’s are w’s, her pronunciation lispy and sweet despite her amazing expertise. Spencer laughs and takes her face into two hands, kissing “Wow, smarty pants,” into her crown. “You’re so smart! I can’t believe it!” 

You feel your annoyance softening. Fine, she’s a smarty pants, and you secretly love it so so much. You’ll just have to carry her to the car. Or her genius dad can carry her. Actually, that could be great, Spencer’s never looked so handsome as he does carrying around your little baby, especially now he’s started working out every now and then. 

“Better role your sleeves up, Spence,” you say, standing up off of your knees. “I’m keeping my heels on. Daddy’s gonna carry you, and you’re gonna get wonky feet.” 

“That’s fine,” Spencer says to her in a whisper, “I’ll carry you forever if you want me to, even if you do get all wonky, bubby.”  

Amy preens as she wraps her arms around him and he picks her up. He takes her shoes from your hand without her seeing. 

“Isn’t she amazing?” he mouths, and he means it, his eyes wide with it. 

“She’s gonna protest socks, next, Spencer Reid, and then what are you gonna do?” you ask. You aren’t half as concerned as you’re pretending to be. Amy’s a baby. She’ll learn how important shoes are soon enough. 

“I’m gonna hold her in my coat, like this,” he says, pulling his coat over her legs. 

“Like that,” you say to yourself, grinning. “Okay, you two do what you want. Can we go now? We really need to get some groceries.” 

[twistedlovelines]

who in the twst cast lets you put a ribbon on it. (Diasomnia, Rollo, Crewel)

NSFW, MDNI, gn! reader <3

(Heartslabyul, Savannaclaw Vers.) (Pomefiore, Ignihyde Vers.) (Octavinelle, Scarabia Vers.)

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia

Of course he lets you put a ribbon on it. He would raze down entire kingdoms for you. A ribbon is nothing . The moment you mention it, ribbons appear out of thin air, dancing around you in a flurry of the finest silks procured from all across Twisted Wonderland. Whether you prefer a more simple ribbon, or one decorated with gold and jewels, he will offer you all that your imagination could dream of and more. Every single option you choose will be laid on a display with care, and he’ll be surprisingly reverent in doing so.

Genuinely treats this as an act of courtship and treasures the act of you tying the ribbon around your cock with such delicacy and tenderness. Every brush against his skin sends a heightened sense of pleasure through his body- more so than usual. The slipperiness of the silk is simply divine against his skin, but frankly, your touch is what brings him over the edge. 

Silver

Oh? He’s never really hard about putting ribbons on one’s cock, but he doesn't feel super strongly about it either way when you mention it. He does have experience making flower crowns, though, so if you want to do a styled pattern on the ribbon or want to do a particular type of knot, he’ll do his best to help! The skin of his cock does tend to be sensitive, so take care not to use a bow made of polyester; otherwise, he’ll be overstimulated and not in the fun way :(

He may or may not fall asleep with the ribbon on. It just feels so soft and nice against his skin…as aroused as he is, the caress of the fabric lulls him to the waiting arms of sleep. However, if you took precautions and worked him up a fair bit beforehand, he enjoys the added sensation of the ribbon combined with your own hand <33 Slightly tightening the bow while he’s temporarily dazed works wonders- the sudden constriction jolts him awake and makes him want to chase this pleasure until he’s spent.

Sebek Zigvolt

He’s so bewildered when you mention it to him. It reminds him of the tales Lilia told him, where royalty and maidens alike would grant knights their favor with a ribbon or handkerchief…hearing of a similar tradition in a sexual context makes him incredibly flustered. He will ask if this is an odd human courting ritual of yours. (He’s disappointed when you say it isn’t . Just a little .)

Put in so much time searching for a ribbon after you mention it tbh. It’s special to him, even if you had only brought it up as a passing interest. Of course he’s going to find one that’s made with enchanted silk, one that’s been created by nothing but one of the best. (He may ask Lilia for help in this area, as the older fae is likely to have expertise in fabrics and whatnot). When it’s actually tied around him, he feels as if his soul is going to leave his body. The soft, act of possession as you tie a ribbon around his cock make him incredibly weak, and he’s practically putty under your hands for the rest of the night <3

Lilia Vanrouge

Oh he’s having fun. He has plenty of ribbons from when he was experimenting with different fashion styles, so you’ll have a fair share to choose from!! From ribbons with frayed edges to ones with fine embroidery, the only issue you might find is having to untangle them all and pick out which one you like best ^^; He even offers a few suggestions that are more in-depth than you’d expect…

If you can’t choose one, he offers that you try multiple in one night (or even in one round!). Why not try all that you can in order to experience this kink to the fullest? I don’t think he has a particular preference for any particular fabric, although he does seem to gravitate towards ribbons that have more lace and textures to them! Will most definitely bring it up again whenever the craving strikes, and will have absolutely no shame in asking if he could do the same to you <3

Misc.

Rollo Flamme

Oh. Oh dear. He becomes incredibly fond of the thought even as he vehemently scolds you for having such perverted thoughts about him. He already carries around a handkerchief with your signature scent on it, of course he would want you to claim him properly as well. Despite this, he can’t help but feel flustered and ashamed. To do something so lewd in such a loving manner…he can’t contain how incredibly horny that makes him.

He’ll spend time with you picking out a ribbon, though he already has one in mind. One of classic silk with a bit of a lace trim- there’s simply no other ribbon that could do. When you finally tie it around his cock, it takes all of his might to not cum on the spot. The sheer intimacy of the moment overwhelms him, and he can’t help but want to have your touch engulf him wholly as he succumbs to your desires. 

Divus Crewel

You want to tie a ribbon around him? You better understand what a commitment that is, pup. He typically prefers to dom in the bedroom, and you wanting to collar him (in a sense) is quite the intimate proposition. If you ask this of him, he takes it all rather seriously. Taking you to specialty boutiques to pick out a ribbon that would symbolize your bond best, to lending you a book detailing different types of bows and styles one can decorate their lover’s cock with. 

He’s patient throughout the whole ordeal, watching your every move with bated breath. Every single loop the ribbon makes around his cock, every knot you make…he engraves every movement in his mind as he feels pre-cum drip over the edges of the luxurious fabric…He will pay back the pleasure that you will draw from him tenfold <3

a/n: Thank you for reading the final installment of my "who in the twst cast lets you put a bow on it" series! If you have any ideas you want me to elaborate on, feel free to stop in my inbox <3

[brokenmenswhore]

Hiii first of all thank you for your fics, they're all so good you're incredible 🥹 second I just wanted to ask you if you were planning on going on with lessons, it was SO amazing! No rush just to know whether to expect it ahah if not so I would love to read some other Aegon xfem!reader smut you're too good at that 💚

thank youuuuu 🖤 i wasn’t planning on it personally but i live to serve and if there’s a demand for it i’m open to anything! here’s something kinda similar regardless since i’m such a whore for this man :)

new | aegon ii targaryen

pairing: aegon targaryen x fem!reader

summary: aegon asks the madam of his usual brothel if she has anyone “new”

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), choking, corruption kink, language

a/n: this gif is making me feral why the fuck is he so fucking hot UGH

────── ☾ ──────

“Is everything to your liking, Your Grace?” asked the Madam, noticing the slight tinge of frustration on Aegon’s face. He walked past her and into his usual room, slumping down on one of the chairs. The Madam followed, concerned at the consequences to her establishment if The King was not satisfied.

“Is there any way I may be of assistance?” she continued, hoping he would alert her as to the issue he was having.

Aegon sighed. “Do you have anyone new?”

The question caught the Madam off guard. The King liked his specific few girls. He preferred the ones with the proper look and experience level that he required for satisfaction. When he was younger, he would fuck anything that moved, but since wearing the crown, he understood he needed to keep his urges at bay, and only let them loose with a select few. He had never asked for anything new.

“We do have one new girl, but you would not approve of her, Your Grace, she is quite inexperienced and will suit men who desire innocence much better than she will suit you.” The Madam was afraid that you would not be able to perform properly, and she did not want The King of the Seven Kingdoms to hold any resentment toward her.

“Does she look like my usuals?” Aegon asked, completely disregarding the Madam’s comments.

“She does, Your Grace, but I would advise-“

“You are not in good standing to advise your King of anything,” he cut the Madam off, glaring daggers her direction, “you would be wise not to question me.”

“Of course, my apologies, Your Grace,” the Madam panicked, “she does look like your usuals, but she is freshly new. She has not been had here yet anymore than maybe five nights. She does not know much.”

Aegon gave the Madam a wicked smile. “You may inform her that her King awaits.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” she responded, exiting the room and leaving the King alone in wait.

She found you in a back room, alone, attempting to adjust your body to fit properly in the small amount of clothing you were given.

“I have been requested to fetch you,” the Madam said, her voice startling you. You turned to her, finally happy with the way your breasts were sitting, as you responded, “How could anyone know to ask for me?”

“The King has requested someone new.”

Your eyes widened at the statement. “The King?” The Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms was the very last person you anticipated on serving. You had only had sex a handful of times, this being your first few nights working, and each time was with a man who specifically asked for someone inexperienced. You knew that the king liked his whores experienced and ready to serve, and oftentimes the Madam only sent him girls who worked their way up to serving someone of such high esteem. He was a finale, not a beginning.

Aegon II Targaryen was also known to be hot headed and rough with his whores, allowing his deepest carnal desires to overtake him. A few of the other girls greeted you on your first days, speaking to you of their tips, tricks, and experiences, and had spoken of the King, and his brother, Prince Aemond. The few girls who were tasked with serving King Aegon accredited him to sore throats or the inability to walk for hours, his depravity present in the bedroom. They quite enjoyed him that way.

“He has specifically requested you,” the Madam told you, “I attempted to advise him otherwise, but he insisted. I am in no position to undermine the King’s requests.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded your head. “Do I look up to your standards, Madam?” you asked.

She approached you, fixing a few stray hairs before pressing her palm to your cheek. “You are stunning. You will be fine. I hired you for a reason. Do not be nervous, darling.“ The Madam gave you a sweet smile before turning out of the room, allowing you to follow her to your meet with the King.

“Your Grace,” she called before swinging the curtain open, making sure he knew she was entering before doing so, “This is her.”

You followed the Madam into the room, shifting until you were standing in front of The King, who remained seated in the corner.

“Thank you,” he spoke, “you may leave us.”

The Madam hesitated, but did not dare question his authority. She bowed toward him and exited the room, leaving you alone and nearly naked, standing before the highest ranking man in Westeros.

You nervously fidgeted with your fingers behind your back as the King lifted a cup from the small table next to his chair, taking a sip and looking at you, not yet placing the cup back down.

He shifted in his seat, spreading his legs open and slumping in the chair a bit more. “Well?”

“Your Grace?” You were confused at what he was trying to get you to do.

“Don’t just stand there,” he told you.

“Your Grace, what would you like me to do?” you asked, afraid of making the wrong move and making him angry.

Aegon sighed. He took another sip from his cup before placing it down and standing up, untying his breeches and pushing them down his legs, freeing his already semi-hard cock. He sat back down and lifted his cup again. His eyes never left you as he brought the cup to his lips, continuing to tilt it further and further upwards until the red liquid spilled past his lips, a steady stream rushing down his throat, down his chest, and onto his stomach. “Oops,” he said, finally placing the empty cup down, “someone will need to clean that up.”

Though he made sure the spill was noticeably deliberate, you did not catch on. “I can happily retrieve you a towel, Your Grace.”

“You will do no such thing,” he spoke, “your tongue is as good as anything.”

You stared at him blankly, nervous to approach him. You knew you should, but your feet were unable to move.

“Come here and lick it up,” he demanded, “now.”

You forced yourself to move, kneeling in between his legs and adjusting yourself to your mouth was directly in front of his neck. “May I?” you asked.

“Lick. It. Up,” he repeated as an answer.

You slowly leaned in until the tip of your tongue connected to the stream of wine on his throat, flattening it against his adam’s apple as you licked up the spilled drink. Your tongue traced from his chest to the base of his neck, then from his belly button to his chest. Even when the wine was mostly cleaned, you licked a long stripe from his stomach all the way up to his throat, tracing the wine up the underside of his chin until you swiped your tongue over his bottom lip.

“May I kiss you, Your Grace?” you asked, desperate to feel his lips but scared of overstepping.

Instead of a verbal answer, Aegon grabbed a fistful of your hair in his hand, tugging your head back. He brought his lips to yours, kissing you with a desperate hunger and tasting the wine on your lips, before ripping your head away from his. “You missed a spot.”

You pulled your body away from him, looking down his body to where he pointed, just at the base of his cock.

You shifted your body so your head was level with his cock, kissing down his lower stomach until you were just above his now hardened cock. You looked up at him for consent, and he nodded slightly, his breathing starting to quicken in anticipation.

You were in your head before you could allow yourself to be as bold as you knew The King expected. “Your Grace, you must know that I have never done this before.”

Aegon tilted his head to the side. “Do not tell me you still have your maidenhood?”

“I do not,” you replied, “I mean I have never tasted a man in this way. I am unsure how I will perform.”

Aegon’s cock twitched at your confession. “I can be lenient with you.”

“I would very much appreciate it, Your Grace. I want you to enjoy yourself, though, and I can fetch a girl who may be better suited to your desires, if you’d like.”

Aegon sighed. “I do not want another girl.”

“Of course, Your Grace, I shall do my best, I just fear you may benefit from someone with more experience-“

“Shut up,” he cut you off, “I said I do not want another girl. Now get on with it.”

You took a deep breath, looking up at him before running your tongue from the underside of his cock to the tip, kissing the very top before sinking your mouth down onto his length. Aegon settled back in his chair, his muscles relaxing at the feeling of your lips wrapped around him.

You began to bob your head up and down slowly, adjusting to the feeling. You had seen this done before, but only in passing, walking past rooms full of cocks and mouths for the past few nights. You did not know much, but you attempted to showcase what you had seen, and how you assumed it was done.

You flattened your tongue against the underside of Aegon’s cock, a sigh leaving his lips as you continued to move up and down.

Aegon’s hand reached for your arm, pulling it upwards until his hand was in yours. He guided your hand to his balls, and you instinctively cupped them, squeezing gently and glancing up at his face to see his reaction. He was already looking down at you, his chest rapidly rising and falling as you continued to play with him, mouth still moving on his cock.

Both of his hands moved to hold your head onto him as he began to thrust into your mouth, lifting his hips ever so slightly at a painstakingly slow pace. Your lack of experience was driving him insane, his cock desperate for more. He grabbed your hair in his hand, and started to push and pull your head, forcing you to pick up the pace in which you sucked him. He began to thrust faster and faster into your mouth, chasing his high with every movement of his hips, before pulling your head off of his cock entirely.

You looked at him, confused as to why he stopped you. Were you not good enough? Did he want another girl?

“What fun would it be if I came now?” Aegon said, pulling you out of your own head, “I’m nowhere near done with you.”

“What else would you like from me, Your Grace?” you asked.

Your innocent tone was driving him crazy, his desire to corrupt and wreck you growing with each sound you made.

“Has anyone ever tasted you?” he asked.

“I know not what you ask, My King,” you answered.

“Do you know what it means to be tasted, pretty girl?” He asked, pulling you until you were standing in front of him as he leaned forward in his chair. He put his hands on your hips and placed a quick kiss to your stomach.

“No, Your Grace,” you spoke, barely making any noise, cheeks flustered as he held onto you, kissing along your lower stomach. His teeth pulled at your small clothes, looking up at you as they slid down your thighs and pooling at your ankles.

You were embarrassed, standing with your core exposed to The King of the Seven Kingdoms, his mouth mere inches away from it. He began to kiss lower and lower until he kissed on top of your folds, causing you to let out a small sigh.

“You need to promise me you won’t try to remain quiet,” he spoke, “I wish to hear you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The King parted your folds with his tongue, flicking at your pearl, causing your legs to buckle involuntarily. Aegon’s hands moved to your ass, grabbing the flesh there to steady you, pushing you against his face. He licked and sucked at anything he could, excited to be the first to taste you, eager to hear the noises you made when pleasured.

The pleasure was unlike anything you had experienced from the few men you had been with. You let out a whine as your hands found their way to Aegon’s head, lightly pulling his hair as you threw your head back, grateful for the grip holding you in place.

Aegon ran one hand down to your thigh, lifting your leg until it was over his shoulder, giving him easier access to you. You continued to hold his head, steadying yourself to avoid completely falling over. Aegon moaned into your core at the feeling of your hands in his hair.

You were worried he was making a noise of disapproval, and you quickly removed your hands from his head. “My apologies, Your Grace, I should not touch you without your request,” you sighed, fighting with all your might to speak a coherent sentence as his tongue continued to swirl around your bud.

He briefly removed his mouth from your core to say, “don’t you fucking dare stop.”

His Grace immediately dipped his head back between your thighs, a loud moan leaving your lips at the sudden feeling, your hands returning to his hair at his request.

“Your Grace,” you moaned, your inner core beginning to tighten at the constant feeling of his mouth on you.

Aegon came up for air. “Just Aegon,” he said.

“Your Grace, I should not c-call you by your name,” you choked out, “i-it is not a-appropriate.”

Aegon sighed in frustration. He just wanted to make you come, and you kept overthinking the situation and interrupting his actions. “It is appropriate if I say it is appropriate. If I tell you to call me Aegon, you call me Aegon.”

You did not combat him, you simply allowed him to continue tasting you as your high approached. His tongue moved faster and faster, your whimpers turning into gasps and moans.

“Aegon!” you cried as your high washed over you, his tongue slowing as he pressed one final kiss to your lower stomach, his hands dropping from your ass, causing your legs to shake and buckle.

You started to fall, but he caught your waist, standing up and taking you with him. You jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist, his arms holding you up as he walked you two over to the bed.

He slammed your back against the sheets, hovering over you as you attempted to catch your breath.

He kissed you, the tenderness of the moment taking you by surprise. The moment remained intimate and sweet until his hand found its way to your throat, rings cold against your skin as he gave a slight squeeze.

You gasped at the feeling, which only made Aegon squeeze a little harder. His hand remained still as his lips found your breasts.

“Take this off,” he said of the final piece of clothing left on your body. You untied the strings centered on your chest, loosening the garment until it was untied completely, exposing you entirely to The King. He ripped the clothing out from under you and discarded it on the floor, eyes focused on your breasts.

He was staring at you for so long that you became worried he was disappointed.

“Is there something wrong, Your Grace?” you asked, attempting to recenter his attention.

Aegon’s eyes finally moved from your breasts, meeting your eyes. “Nothing is wrong,” was all he said before averting his gaze back to your chest again.

“Would you prefer me to remain covered?” You felt heavy under his gaze, as if he was inspecting you, finding every little fault. You began to pull the sheets up to drape over yourself, but Aegon gripped your wrist, causing you to drop the sheets.

“Do not even attempt to cover yourself again, understood? I’ve already gone much too long without a sight this pretty.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” you replied.

Aegon took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking harshly, as if he thought the more he sucked, the higher the likelihood that something would leak out. His tongue swirled around your nipple, his hand finally leaving your throat to squeeze the unattended breast.

The curtain to the room swung open, the Madam standing at the entrance. Aegon, with no urgency whatsoever, detached himself from your breast, glaring at the woman.

“Forgive me, My King, I simply wanted to make sure she remains to your liking?” the Madam checked in, nervous of your performance and ability to satisfy her most coveted patron.

“Have I ever deemed it proper to interrupt me?” Aegon spat, angry at the intrusion, “answer me.”

“You have not, Your Grace, I was simply-“

“You were simply interrupting,” Aegon started, shifting his body so that you were trapped between his legs, “and I did not give you authority to ever do such a thing. Get out.”

“My apologies, Your Grace, it will not h-“

“Get. Out.”

The Madam bowed and left without another word, Aegon letting out a frustrated sigh as the curtains fell back into one another, leaving you alone with him once again.

“Does she make a habit of checking in on you?” Aegon asked you.

“She never has, but I am newer, and I believe she means well.”

“Does she not think you capable of pleasing a man?”

“To speak candidly, she does not think me capable of pleasing you, Your Grace,” you told him honestly.

“You seem to be doing a fine job,” Aegon said, dipping his head to kiss your neck, a hand finding its way back to your breasts, a finger playing with your nipple between squeezes.

“T-thank you, Aegon,” you replied.

Aegon groaned at your words. Even though you were thanking him for his compliment, it sounded so pretty, as if you were thanking him for his touch. He needed more, and you noticed.

He lined his cock up at your entrance, watching your face as he slowly pushed into you, your mouth dropping open and your head tilting back at his size. You gasped when he bottomed out inside of you, his cock large enough to hit further back than you anticipated.

He studied your face, watching your brow crease as he pulled only a little out of you before slamming it back in, causing your body to jolt slightly with the movement. He began to slowly rock into you, a small whine leaving your lips with each thrust.

You remembered his earlier groan, and praised him. “Thank you,” you sighed out as he slowly fucked into you, the feeling igniting your entire body.

“Thank you for what?” Aegon asked, eager to hear you speak more.

He picked up the pace, fucking into you faster and faster, your body rocking with each thrust of his hips. “T-thank you, Aegon, you feel s-so g-good,” you whined.

“Yeah? You like the way your king fucks you, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you praised, “thank you, A-Aegon.”

Your words were making him feral, rendering him completely unable to control himself. He began to fuck you at a ruthless pace, one hand finding its way to your breasts, squeezing and flicking your nipple to add to your pleasure.

Your back arched in response, whines and whimpers falling from your lips with no chance of stopping.

“I want you to scream so loud that there is no question of whether or not I am pleased by you,” Aegon moaned.

“Y-yes, Aegon,” you whimpered, the feeling of his hips hitting yours with every hard thrust driving you closer and closer to the edge again.

He folded his body a bit, leaning down to kiss your breasts again, sucking as he continued to fuck you. Your hands found his head, playing with his hair as he bit down on your breast.

You squeaked a moan, the sudden pain catching you off guard. It only made Aegon like you more, each and every new noise pulling him further and further in. He couldn’t get enough. You were intoxicating him; he loved knowing that barely anyone had had you, and that no one would ever compare to him when more did. He was growing too used to his usual whores, and you excited something within him as you pulled his hair, and feeling being exactly what he wanted from you.

He bit at the pure flesh of your breast, licking and sucking at the spot immediately after to care for the slight mark. “Aegon, fuck,” you moaned.

His pace began to feel sloppy, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic as he chased his high.

“I need you to come,” he said.

“I- I-“ your high was approaching and Aegon knew it. He could feel you squeezing his cock, and he was losing self control, all too close to releasing inside of you. He needed you to come again before he could allow himself to, but he was losing it.

“Come for me,” he begged, “do what your king says.”

The demanding nature of the request combined with the neediness of his begging only added to your arousal, your high hitting you hard as you squeezed Aegon’s cock for dear life. “Aegon!” you screamed, sure everyone could hear.

“Good girl,” Aegon cooed at your volume.

The combination of the feeling of you coming and the sight of your breasts bouncing with each thrust drove Aegon close to his own high, grateful that you came so he could follow suit.

He tried to stop it, he tried to convince himself it wasn’t right, but he could not help himself- he remained inside of you as he came, a moan leaving his lips as his last few thrusts shot his seed deep within you, the thought of how pretty your breasts would be if they were full of milk completely clouding his mind in the moment.

He pulled out of you as he calmed down, falling down onto your body and positioning his head on your chest.

He remained laying on you for several minutes, enjoying the feeling of your breasts beneath his head, the makeshift pillows soothing him.

“Your Grace, is there anything else you require of me? Is there anything else I can do that will please you?” you asked after a while, unsure of how long he wanted to remain in your presence.

“Stay,” he said, “resting on you pleases me.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” you responded, running your fingers through his hair, allowing him to take a deep breath as he moved a hand to your breast, squeezing and playing with the flesh as he calmed down.

You remained still, allowing him this comfort as you settled in to the bed.

“You may tell your Madam that you satisfied me greatly,” he spoke after a few minutes, pushing himself up and standing as he found his clothing.

“Yes, Your Grace,” you responded.

Aegon redressed himself, stopping in front of you before exiting the room. “And you can tell her I expect to see you again.”

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan arena beasts/fighters + handler reader. Reader is an average human working at a zoo/shelters abducted and thrown into a life of caring for a galactic tyrant's playthings due to their experience with animals. Not an idea choice for the job, but with everyone who's had the job before being maimed, killed, or worse they were running out of options. Reader does the best with what they're given. They find solitude with the other captives to an extent and some of the more feral creatures remind them of stray cats and dogs they knew back home. They treat those who allow as those same poor creatures out of habit and to cope with their new life. Others are so aggressive they have to be blindfold and sedated to even get close. Reader still tries to comfort them despite the many scratches and bites they receive

A little mix up happens where a warrior meant to fight the big bad of the area had already been slain by the beast. With no alternative, reader gets sent out instead as sacrifice to appease the blood hungry masses. They cower in the corner as the beast's mask is removed, praying their battered body at least gets shipped home so they have a proper burial and their family has some clue to what happened to them. They cast their small dagger away still unable to defend themselves against what they only see as a frightened animal protecting its own skin. The beast lifts them off the ground like a ragdoll holding them high for the crowd to see as its fangs draw from its scarred lips - breaking the band around its wrist that would seal reader's victory.

The beast ties the rope around reader's neck as the announcer declares them victor by default. The crowd boos, but as the beast snaps the neck of one of the guards and throws the limb body into the arena their demands are met. Reader quakes from the sheer disbelief of the whole ordeal, and still being trapped in the beast's arms as it coos. It takes over a dozen guards to get them to separate the two. They try again with another beast reader has care for and the same thing happens. Watching the live footage closely it's clear to experts the skilled fighters allow themselves to get injured to be coddled and tended to by reader. When rations are given they try to feed reader a share of their meals. The number of casualties skyrocket when reader's taken away or new caretakers are introduced. The beasts demand their head pats and ear scratches for their winnings and they want it from one source alone.

-

The emperor is quite amused by this revelation. It perfectly masks his paranoia in the case of his pets rising against him for whatever reason and choosing the earthling as their new overlord which few have spoken of in whispers. He's torn between killing them to null his fears and befriending them to puppeteer his pets craftfully from the shadows. He decides on the latter since getting rid of them would only anger his pets. That and it would be so easy to trick the human with his charms. Few can resist the words and body of a king, after all.

"Y/n, darling, it's so good to see you! So glad you could make it. How have things been, hm?"

"I'd like to go home, please."

"Hahaha! Oh, you're so cute with your little jokes! You may enjoy your meal in due time, but I have a favor to ask of you from a friend to a king. In the case of I don't know - my pets slaughtering my entire legion and storming my castle walls to behead me and crown you ruler - would you pretty please ask them to - not do that?"

"That....sounds like it would be out of my hands."

"Right. Changing subject, you are aware I have been topless this whole conversation and my bed is right behind me. Why haven't you attempted to have your way with me by now? Not saying you could - but you can always try."

The emperor upgrades their room to one right next to his, but they hardly sleep there favoring their time caring for the others and because they'd rather stay there than see him in a state of undress on their mattress. The emperor mimics the cooing that gets wounded beasts extra smothering from their handler, but reader mostly ignores him. He grows jealous seeing them fast asleep in a cell kept warm by the body heat of the battle scarred creatures around them. He's been scarred by attempted assassinations in the past - why doesn't he get cuddles too? Combats this jealously by making a royal decree that reader has to sit with him during every battle and on his lap if they wish to stay out of his sight afterwards. Requests for reader's fredom and hand in marriage and when a champion is chosen are banned almost immediately.

[chuluoyi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 . . . 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 ! — untold tales

first of all, thank you so so much for those who have read the deposed empress series! i can't thank you all enough—i'm blown away with all your kind words!! <3

and so, what is this? there are actually many little details i've had in mind for this au, but i can't write them all down bc there are just too many and writing up to 9-10k isn't usually my cup of tea :') this is more or less my little notes i held onto while writing the empress series, and i don't want to discard it so with this, i'll be clearing several plot holes you might've found throughout all hail the empress, the crown of diamonds and long live the empire :D

who is the infertile one, naoya or the empress?

truth is... none of them! :D both of them are perfectly healthy, and as of why the empress couldn't conceive while she was still with naoya... well, that has a lot to do with fate and god's blessing HAHA

official explanation *cough* — the empress feels oppressed in eastern empire, naoya isn't being kind to her as of late, and actually, she has a delicate body more than most... so despite being healthy and all, that kind of environment won't support any conception 💁🏻‍♀️

hanabi's children paternity

continuing from point above... naoya is the true biological father of hanabi's daughter and son :) this is my aim since the beginning -> how ironic and pitiful is it that he casts his own flesh and blood away? the main point of zen'in naoya's arc is to obtain his own heir, and yet once he does, he stupidly has them locked and about to be punished

has naoya ever loved the empress?

no. but why was he so kind with her in the beginning, you ask? that's bc he regarded her as an equal. she was the best pick out of highborn ladies in her time, famous for her talents, pretty too, and he deemed her worthy to become his wife. but later, naoya fell out of respect with her since she couldn't produce an heir

but on the contrary, the empress was in love with him, at least during her youth

what is the argument between gojo and empress in part 2 about?

gojo has long wanted to decimate naoya and his empire (no particular justification for this, that's just what emperors do :') let's leave it at that), but it's true that seeing how the empress is wronged while she was married to naoya fuels the fire. gojo may be biased bc he is so in love with the empress, but in his eyes, it's so unacceptable

the empress is suspicious that gojo is only using her after the ending scene of part 1. and she overhears geto's words (“No, Satoru. You are just using her. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”), and so she is even more convinced that he's just planning to use her so... yeah, an argument ensues :')

in gojo's pov, empress saving megumi and hanabi means she is doing it out of (lingering?) love for naoya, as he knows that she used to be in love with him. in empress' pov, gojo is finding excuse to wage a war, and with the cursed necklace incident, he has found a right justification to do so

why did naoya send the necklace as a gift to the empress after everything? what happens to it afterwards? does he know what hanabi did?

you know, actually... if it isn't obvious by now, everything naoya does in this series is unreliable :') to put it simply, he's a bit mad ever since empress ditches him for gojo—his pride is so wounded and he's becoming erratic day by day

while looking at the his coronation portrait, he might feel some kind of twisted sense of regret-like emotions (i said "-like" bc he is not right in the head), and then he remembers that he still has that necklace with him, so he might as well get rid of it. it's totally not out of love at all! :D

after hanabi tampered with the necklace and imbued it with a curse from god knows where... gojo of course has it destroyed 💁🏻‍♀️ and naoya doesn't know any of this bc this matter is not made public by the western empire (after the empress' involvement in concealing the evidence), and neither megumi or hanabi want to risk naoya's wrath so they don't bring it to his attention. more like, they don't know how he'll react, and if he throws a fit then it'll be a headache so yeah he must be kept in the dark

still, megumi resents hanabi for what she did, that's why later, he has a hand in banishing hanabi to duke kamo's household :)))

hanabi's doomed fate explained

hanabi was a former maid to the kamo household and they're famous for their cruelty. as of what they've done to her... well, you can imagine all sorts of cruel scenarios and that will be it :) things get better when choso takes over, but still... hanabi still has nightmares from it

so what happened to her? basically, gojo's line in part 3 here: "Anyone who dares to lay their hands on my empress... they have to pay the price."

working together with geto, megumi and choso, gojo orchestrated the whole dumpster fire to make naoya and hanabi fall from grace. first, he digs hanabi's background, and after knowing it, he makes a deal with choso—zen'ins have usurped the throne from the kamos and a new plaything is always welcome so he easily agrees, and then megumi... he complies bc he knows everything is in shambles in eastern empire anyway and he hates hanabi too for cursing the empress, so he helps in spreading the false information about hanabi's children not being of naoya's blood and slips choso's blood in the paternity testing naoya conducts... and yeah, they all have him fooled and hanabi is kicked out that instant

and comes the main event: naoya's stroke is also choso pulling the strings :D so in other words, this is also their plan to dethrone him altogether and install megumi to the throne. the "kindness" megumi shows hanabi is also a part of their plan, as he sends her right back to choso

in conclusion, emperor gojo is actually a cruel, cruel person :) he designs this elaborate plan to take down those who dared to touch his empress...

final note

there are many inspirations for this series if you look closer -> the manhwa remarried empress (part 1-2), queen of tears & queen charlotte: bridgerton story (part 3). i tried my best to add my own twist in all three parts, but again, writing is a form of art and we're leaning towards things that are familiar to us to write :D after all, it's just fanfics... we're free to put them in any situation ;)

it has been such a fun ride to write this series :') again, thank you so much for giving my stories a chance🩵 i never expected for so many to interact, and you all truly make my day!! if i'm going to be honest, writing here isn't always fun... but seeing your asks, comments and tags really is the reason why i'm not giving up writing here :'D and i'm saying this not for me but also on behalf of all writers out there—whenever you drop by with a long analysis/tags/comments for our fics, we're so so beyond happy to read it!!! :) so thank you, and please continue to do so if you can <3

[yuriisclumsy]

hii! How are you darling :)

Can i request a crack/ funny and fluffy cale x pregnant reader ? Like she is a few months pregnant, so cale and the kids always lay with her and dont let her do much.

Ofc the others are overprotective of her, bc like shes clumsy😭 like always falling down the stairs, nose bleeds (me core) and she watched everyone panic while looking at them with a deadpanned look bc

1. Shes a baddie whos to hot to die

2.the baby is fine and alive

And cale is loosing his mind bc he cannot leave her alone for two mins bc she will somehow make even more trouble simply bc shes ✨just a girl ✨

Stay still, will you?

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝:1,267

»»►This is a funny scenario. I like to think Cale is a super, over the top, overprotective, man. If you mess with those he cares about or loves, you’re about to find yourself in an interesting situation. 

»»►But when Cale finds out he’s going to be a papa, he goes wild. Forget accepting whatever mission the crown prince wants him to do, he needs to be right next to his wife–24/7. 

»»►And let’s be honest with ourselves, this man would literally take this chance to laze around even more. This is the life he wanted, no? 

»»►Oh, but his dear wife doesn’t like sitting still for more than a minute. This is torture for her—but can’t do anything about it because her husband and (adopted)kids want her to relax and take care of herself and the baby. 

»»►But, why? You may ask. That’s for the single fact that she is clumsy (hey just like me!). She crashes stuff, trips, falls, hurts herself—according to Cale and the others—she denies such accusations—and last but not least, she gets herself in trouble. 

»»►So, yeah. [Name] have no “stepping outside the state” privileges until after the baby is here physically. But [Name] is a tough cookie. She can handle herself when no-one is around. So—to everyone’s dismay—she goes outside one day. It’s just to stroll around and see what has progressed in Harris Village. 

»»►One thing to note: she didn’t tell a soul about her outing. 

»»►Now imagine Cale’s face when he comes back to see the staff panicking for the whereabouts of his wife. 

»»►Let's just say…it was chaotic that day. 

“Woah, that looks tasty...!” [Name] drooled at the sight. 

“Good morning, lady [Name]! What can I get you today?” The shop owner greeted [Name] with a smile. 

“Can I have this please?” [Name] pointed to one of the delicacies of the bakery. It was a croissant-looking-bread stuffed full of chocolate. 

The owner of the bakery gave her a bag filled with what she ordered. “Here you go! Please come back soon!” the owner waved goodbye. 

“I will!” She waved back at the owner. [Name] took one of the baked goods and began to eat it.  

“I wonder how everyone is doing at the state.” 

… 

“LADY [NAME]!” 

“M’lady! Where are you?!” 

“Does anyone remember the last place [Name] went to?!” 

“M’lady, please be okay!” 

Currently, everyone is in a frenzy. The lady of the house was nowhere to be found, and everyone and their mothers were running like headless chickens in search of her. And if they did not find her, their master was going to kill them! 

“What is with the commotion here?” a voice spoke from the entrance of the manor. 

Everything stopped. Slowly, the housekeepers and butlers turned their heads towards the voice. They knew this voice. Very well in fact. Although they grew to like it, right now, they wish they didn’t hear it. They prayed that it was a ghost. Dread overtook them as they saw the voice’s owner. 

Cale Henituse. Their young master. And the husband of the manor’s lady they were trying to find. 

“So? Is anyone going to tell me why you are all running like the world just ended?” Cale spoke. 

Who was mad enough to even dare to tell the young master that his wife magically disappeared? Not me. And not anyone in this room.  

Yet a brave soul stood up and spoke. May he rest in peace. 

“Ah…y-young mater Cale,” a young butler went forward and vowed, stammering in his word, “we..uh…. Can’t find lady [Name] anywhere...?” 

“...” 

“...” 

It was deafeningly silent. No one moved an inch, waiting—waiting for the order to execute them. They fully accepted their fate. 

“Well, what are you all just standing there for?” he spoke, breaking the iceberg. 

“Huh?” 

“Standing still isn't going to bring back [Name].” He stood there, staring at the crowd. 

He was right. 

They needed to get back to searching for Lady [Name]!  

A chorus of ‘yes, sir!’ was heard before a horde of housekeepers and butlers left in search of their Lady. 

“*sigh* Why are you like this [Name]...?” Cale whispered and looked up. He slowly walked to the exit of the manor heading to the town; the children followed after him–this included Choi Han. 

“Master Cale, where are you going?” Hans asked. 

“I’m going to the market area in the town,” he said, not bothering to look back. “Ron, make my bed as comfortable as you can make, will you?” 

“Yes, young master.” Ron responded. 

“Great.” 

… 

Lovely day for [Name] sitting in the shade of an umbrella and her delicious foods. Going from one shop to another, she had managed to gather a lot of food. She had gone overboard again, yes, but the baby she was carrying and her were happy. Who could ever disturb such happiness? 

“[Name].” A male voice called her name firmly from behind. 

Of course. The only person that could was her husband. [Name] knew he only meant good, but right now he had broken that tranquility. 

“Oh! Cale, love, darling, how are you...?” [Name] turned and looked at him nervously. The children had gathered around her–with Raon being invisible naturally. 

“[Name]...” Cale rubbed the temples of his face before sighing, “why are you out?” he asked sternly. 

“Well clearly, I was taking a walk. And I bought some snacks on the way.” She answered, petting both Hong and Raon while On made herself comfortable in her lap. 

“What–no. That’s not what I meant.” 

“You asked why I was out, and I told you why.” 

“You know exactly why I asked that.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” [Name] gave the children the treats she had bought earlier. 

“[Name], please. You know how dangerous it is for you to be here right now. You are due at any point now! And I just…agh..I just want you to stay safe.” He said in frustration. 

[Name] looked at him, feeling a bit guilty that he is like that. She had reached her ninth month a week ago, making this month the most crucial. She just didn’t want to stay locked up in her room all the time. It was something that did not sit right with her. 

“I’m sorry…” [Name] looked down in shame. 

“I…*sigh* You are going to be the death of me.” Cale came closer to her and placed his hands underneath her. 

“Hu-huh? Cale? What are you doing?” panicking a little before realizing he was going to carry her. 

“Carry you, obviously.” He scuffed. “We’re going back to the manor.” 

“Aww…can’t we go to another shop? It’ll be the last one, I promise!” Her begging went to deaf ears. He wasn’t letting her get away with it, so she started to wiggle her way out his arm. 

“Stay still, will you?” 

“Not until I get my last treat.” 

“*sight…* Fine. But you’ll have it after dinner. Dinner is going to be served soon.” Cale said while walking to the nearest candy shop. 

“Mmmm, I'm fine with that. Oh! Choi Han, hello. Sorry, I didn’t notice you there.” 

“It’s fine lady [Name].” Choi Han gave her a small nod. 

“Moooom…I want a treat too!” 

“I also want one!” 

“The great Roan Miru will get one too, right?” 

“Wait a second. Since when do they call you mom?” Cale asked in confusion. 

“Yes, yes. All of you will get one.” 

“Don’t ignore me.” 

Choi Han giggled as Cale continued to ask and get ignored by them. 

Fin 

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Master-List

[selfloverrrrrr]

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 💕

[inadaydream99]

Idiotically in Love Stray Kids

A/N - I just couldn’t help but think about the little things that they would do or the way they may act when being so in love with someone…

Disclaimer: This does not represent any of the members in real life and is for entertainment purposes only. Anything I’ve missed, please let me know!

Idiotically in love Chan who…

Confessed to you by accident because his jealousy got the better of him. He couldn’t stand seeing you get hit on by another guy and you clearly weren’t enjoying it. But he was controlling himself because you’re an adult and can handle your own situations… until the guy started getting a bit too close for comfort. Chan had stormed over and scooped you into his arms before either of you could register what was happening. Leaning down, he whispered into your ear to trust him, waiting for you to nod your agreement before crashing his lips into yours. Let’s just say that the guy was long gone by the time you broke the kiss for air.

Pulls you into a secluded corner of the room so he can hold you just like he has been dying to do all night. It’d been torture watching you from afar and all he has wanted to do is get away from everyone so he can spend time with you.

Calls you at 2am when he’s stressed with work and everything seems to be going wrong. But just hearing your voice on the other end, softly distracting him with how your day went or what you both want to do on your next date night helps his tense shoulders to slump and his mind to finally simmer down.

Pats his lap and tells you to sit down. He’s got the most sheepish look on his face as your attention turns to him. Instinctively, he sinks back further into the sofa behind him and opens his arms wide for you to cuddle into his embrace, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as a reward of doing as he asked.

Always walks on the outside of the sidewalk when he’s with you. And - if for any reason - he finds that you’re somehow on the side closest to the cars, he will take you by the wrist and manoeuvre you to the other side.

Idiotically in love Minho who…

Just loves to call you kitty. Be it affectionately or sarcastically. He mostly just uses the name because he likes the way your cheeks turn the tiniest bit pink upon hearing it roll off his tongue. “I didn’t realise you were such a bad kitty.” “Aw kitty come here.”

Gets excited to have you in his arms but will rarely admit it. He just loves the way you snuggle into him, fitting so perfectly against his chest and acting like a human hot water bottle to keep him warm.

Can’t remember how or why the unspoken rules between you came to be, but it would feel wrong not to do them when given the chance. Like the unspoken rule of Minho always kissing your nose before you fall asleep, or how you instinctively hold his hand while crossing the road because you know he stresses when it’s busy. His favourite is whenever you hug him, you never complain about his hands grabbing your butt and if you have back pockets then he’s definitely putting his hands inside and keeping them there so you can’t pull away.

Calls you an idiot all the time but you both know that really stands for “I love you.” It started because of a silly little argument you were having. He was purposefully refusing to say I love you back to you and it was pissing you off. In the end, after you’d given him the silent treatment, he’d approached you with “you know you’re an idiot, of course I love you.”

Never believed in love at first sight until he saw you. It’s like his whole world was flipped upside down and he knew right there and then that you were going to be a huge part of his life.

Idiotically in love Changbin who…

Didn’t realise he’d fallen for you until he’d had a dream about kissing you. He woke up shook becuase… where did that come from??? But then it became all he could think about. Little by little, it dawned on him how much the two of you already acted like a couple just without the title. And that’s actually how he chose to confess to you. By telling people exactly that when they asked but by adding a “yet…” onto the end and smirking at you.

Loves to sneak up behind you while you’re preoccupied to cage you in a back hug. Resting his chin on your shoulder, his strong arms holding you so tenderly.

Calls you just to hear your voice. He loves the light rasp it has when he calls you first thing in the morning, still laced with sleep and your brain clearly a little foggy.

Always looks at you after doing something funny to see your reaction. He lives to make you smile and laugh and so, especially when in a group of people, Changbin will instantly find you amongst the group to make sure you found him funny. Yours is the only reaction he cares about and it warms his heart to see you so elated because of him.

Can’t help but to use cheesy pick up lines on you at least once a day. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together, Changbin just loves to flirt with you.

Idiotically in love Hyunjin who…

Fell in love with you without realising. Really, Minho should take credit for your relationship happening becuase it was his no-nonsense talking that made Hyunjin finally realise how he felt about you. After all, everyone except Hyunjin could see that he was in love with you, from the way he always wanted to partner with you when needing a buddy and then insisting that holding hands is the number one rule of the buddy system, to moping around like crazy when the group had to go away on schedules and he wouldn’t be able to see you for however long (apparently one time he wouldn’t stop saying things like “y/n wouldn’t have made me do this…” or “y/n would have shared with me…”)

Longingly looks for you in the crowded room because he can’t stand all the people he’s having to speak with just to be socially polite. All he wants is to escape with you to somewhere where he can be himself.

Adores the inside jokes that crack both of you up with a single knowing look but no one else understands. Your minds are just wired the same way, and so you find all the silliest, most random things hilarious.

Calls you his pretty mess becuase your hair is always like a birds nest when you wake up in the mornings. The first time you’d stayed overnight at his and woke to him teasing you about your bed head you were mortified. But, in truth, Hyunjin found it so adorable. He loves that you are both real in your relationship and don’t try to upkeep a perfect image around each other.

Does this thing where he tilts your chin up to look at him so your eyes lock into a deep gaze. It’s so intense that you forget how to breathe, mouth falling agape as he continues to slowly inch your faces closer together. Always stops when your lips are ghosting, waiting for the little whine of impatience you make before finally kissing you like your lives depend on it.

Idiotically in love Jisung who…

Realised he was in love with you when one of your mutual friends had confided in him about their feelings for you. It was the burning jealousy ignited inside of Jisung from just the thought of you being with someone other than him that made him think… hang on a minute, they’re mine.

Confessed to you by calling you first thing the next morning and asking to meet him for breakfast. When you said that you could he immediately responded with “it’s a date.” And then when on said breakfast date, he’d come clean about your mutual friends feelings towards you and how he’d respect your choice either way, but that he just had to let you know how he feels too. It’s safe to say he was surprised when you’d leaned over to him and shyly given him a peck on the lips as your answer.

Hasn’t seen you all day and all he wants is to kiss you. He doesn’t care who’s around or if you’re meant to be somewhere else. He wants - no needs - to make up for lost time.

Can’t get you out of his head. It’s like everything makes him think of you. He walks past a stall selling flowers and remembers your favourite. Or he is in a different country and sees an old couple walking hand in hand and thinks about how one day that will be the both of you.

Is always there for you no matter what. He’s a blabber mouth with most things but when it comes to you, if you asked him to keep something between the two of you, he would take it to the grave. His priority is making sure you know you can tell him anything and that he would do everything in his power to keep you safe and loved.

Idiotically in love Felix who…

Lost his phone and his first panicked thought was not being able to contact you.

Always asks about your day, every day without fail. He loves to know that you’ve eaten properly, slept well or done something productive/ social when he’s not been around.

Realised that the need for him to know you were always happy and safe was because he had fallen for you. It had happened so seamlessly that he hadn’t noticed until the possibility of you not being around so much made him feel less motivated.

Confessed to you by asking if it would be weird if he kissed you. Which was probably the most endearing thing you’ve ever witnessed in your life. Of course, you didn’t hesitate in telling him that, yes, he could kiss you. And Felix is so glad he did because wow, nothing had ever felt more right to him than the feeling of his lips on yours.

Realises now that he’d been such a fool all of those times he’d denied the two of you being a couple when asked by others if you’re dating because now he can see that the way you look at him is the same head-over-heels in love expression that he looks at you with.

Idiotically in love Seungmin who…

Randomly decides to mess with your head one day. He seemingly suddenly switches from spitting sarcastic retorts at everything you say to sending you heart eyes every-time you look at him. It’s suspicious.

Had always assumed that the strong way he felt about you was not being able to stand you. Like how he couldn’t stand how you always seemed to draw everyone in, like the first ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds after a long storm. But soon, he realised that he couldn’t stand being away from you. Like he needed your light to illuminate his dark mind and make him feel at ease.

Silently listens to things you say, storing them away for when he may need them and remembering little things about you that you don’t ever remember mentioning to him.

Plays with your hair subconsciously. It’s usually when you’re cuddling and he’s zoned out. With your head on his chest, it’s impossible for his fingers to not thread through your soft hair. It lulls you to sleep every time so when Seungmin does finally blink back into the real word he’s met with the angelic picture of his love resting against him.

Mocks the size of you. Any possible part of you that is smaller than him and he’s making a cheeky comment about how tiny you are. He gets a kick out of reminding you that you’re small and need him to help and protect you.

Idiotically in love Jeongin who…

Cannot bear to be apart from you anymore. Sod however scary it may be to confess his feelings to you. He has to let you know that there is no other way for him to live other than by loving you wholeheartedly.

Calls you dude or bro romantically. Just the thought of any sickly-sweet pet name makes him internally (and sometimes externally) cringe. Maybe it’s slight ptsd from his friend’s adoration towards him. But then you’re out and about and he can’t ignore the need to hold your hand. So, to get your attention, he calls you “dude.” before signalling for you to hold his hand.

Always gives you his hoodie to wear. It’s like the sight of you in his clothes, smelling of his cologne and scrunching up the cuffs into your palms to make little sweater paws makes him melt.

Carries you to bed and tucks you in when you fall asleep elsewhere. Like that one time Jeongin found you hunched over your open laptop, fast sleep in the early hours of the morning. Yes, he was annoyed that you’d stayed up so late working. But then again, he had also only just gotten back from practice and so wasn’t really in a much better position himself. Although, he will still nag you the next morning about the importance of self care.

Thought to himself “yeah, I’m screwed” when he met your meek smile from across the room and all he wanted was to rush over to you and envelop you in his arms to protect you from the world. At that moment in time, you had only known each other for about a week, but Jeongin just knew that you were going to be a very important part of his life.

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (1) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board | ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his.

chapter summary: your parents are convinced that you will marry the king by the end of the social season. and so, too, it seems does coriolanus snow.  

word count: 2,764 

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later 

chapter warnings?: no use of y/n, you cannot stand coryo, not proofread

Coriolanus Snow’s rise to the throne was something you never expected to come to fruition. When you were younger, you remembered your peers talking about how Snow wanted to one day rule Panem. At the time, you thought it was just another wild dream of a child. Something a child would say when an adult asks what they wish to be when they grow up. “A pirate!” one might exclaim. Or, perhaps, “A painter!” The sort of thing that a sensible parent would shrug off and not dedicate anymore thought to. The Snow family, as it turned out, was not particularly sensible. 

When the Former King Ravinstill died without warning, the throne was left vacant. Everyone knew that the old man had little life left in him. Yet, despite his age, he had a tendency to power through. No one thought he would have lived as long as he did, but he had. So, the Electors had not yet begun considering his replacement. No one had been prepared enough to seek candidacy. No one, except Coriolanus Snow. A few other eligible persons put forth their names, but no one garnered support quite like the young man. From a prominent family, the son of a general, had served briefly himself, intelligent, and had the financial backing of the Plinth family? There was no version of history where Snow could lose. 

Within weeks of Ravinstill’s death, Snow was crowned King. 

You did not care for politics, so you knew little of his reign. But your father seemed pleased, talking often and loudly about how the young Snow would restore Panem to its former glory. You weren’t so sure of that. Though you did not interact with him often in your younger years, you remembered Snow as someone who was self-serving. Who would pretend to care if only it could further his own interests. He very well might let all of Panem burn if it meant he could gain from it. But your father was quite pleased with Snow as King and, when word began to spread that Snow would be seeking a bride this next social season, your father pushed hard for you to woo the King. 

“If you wish to serve your family well, my little dove, you will convince the King to marry you,” your father told you the moment he heard the news. 

You all but scoffed. “I hardly think I am the sort of woman he wishes to marry. A man like him would want someone meek, someone who would not challenge his authority. We hardly ever agreed on the schoolyard, and for that reason, he never considered me a friend. How could he ever see me as a wife?”

Your father’s eyes narrowed at you. “It is your responsibility, then, to make yourself small so that he may choose you.”

“I would rather die than sacrifice my ideals, Papa,” you said. “Why can I not vie for any other’s attention? I know Lord Plinth quite well. I’ve always enjoyed his company. It would be easy to win his heart and have our family set for life. Certainly easier than winning over the King.”

He sneered, “The only thing the Plinth family is good for is their money. I want to be respected. We would be little more than social pariahs if you wed the Plinth boy.”

“I shall not marry the King—”

Your mother stepped in before you could say something you might come to regret. She placed a hand on your arm, directing your attention to her. “Never mind that now. There is still time before the season begins for minds to be changed.”

“I shall not change my mind, Mama.”

She looked over at your father, who was the perfect picture of irate. She looked back to you. “Perhaps, but perhaps not. Let us go clear our minds, yes? We should go order new gowns at the modiste before everyone else floods her with demands.”

“You cannot distract me with fashion.”

“But you would do well to pretend that I have.”

Your efforts to convince your parents that you would not, under any circumstance whatsoever, marry Coriolanus Snow did not do anything for you. Despite your best efforts, you now stood in the palace for the King’s Ball, wearing the most beautiful powder blue gown fresh from the modiste, trying and failing to hide from your mother, so that you might delay her forcing you onto Snow. For now, though, she had been distracted by a conversation with Lady Dovecote about…whatever mothers talked about. Surely some scheme that would end with either you or Clemensia as Snow’s betrothed. You rolled your eyes at the thought. 

A familiar voice said your name. When you turned, you were greeted by the sight of Sejanus Plinth, holding two glasses of lemonade. He handed one to you, remarking, “I never knew you to be one to hide from the crowd.”

“I shall hide from the crowd when my mama is convinced I shall become Queen by the end of the season.”

“Ah.” Sejanus took a drink and laughed. “Strange, isn’t it? Seeing everyone we grew up with vying for Coryo’s attention.”

Coryo? Oh, yes. That was the nickname those close to Snow would call him. You had forgotten that the two were friends. Hmm, perhaps you could use that information the next time your parents try to force a connection with Snow. Something about how getting close to his friend might make him interested in you. “That it is. It seems as though everyone has lost their minds just for a glimpse of the crown.”

Sejanus laughed again. Then he looked at you a little more seriously, and said, “If I am honest, I am surprised you are not among those fighting for Coryo’s attention.”

Your brows pinched together. “You think I am interested in climbing the social ladder? Lord Plinth, you should know me well enough that I care more for a love match than gaining a title.”

“No, no. That is not what I meant. I remember in school that you and Coryo always had a sort of connection. Truthfully, I thought one of you might have acted on it sooner when you entered society.”

“The only connection we had was that of hatred. We despised each other.”

Sejanus shook his head, his curls bouncing. “I do not think that was true for Coryo. He liked that you challenged him. He has never been the sort of person who liked people who switch their position when the tide seems to turn. He likes people who are firm in their convictions.”

You laughed. “He’s told you this?”

“Not in so many words. But you have to wonder why he always sought you out.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps he is crueler than we all think.”

Sejanus moved to protest, but another beat him to it. “Or perhaps you judge without truly knowing.”

You froze. Oh, how you had hoped that you could have avoided him tonight! Damn Sejanus and his friendship with Snow. So much for him being your safe haven during these balls. You might as well have lit a beacon leading straight to you. Alas, you did not want Snow to see the hatred you had brewing for him. Even if you did not like the man, you would be a social pariah if you made such feelings known to him. So, you painted on a smile as you turned to look at Snow. “Or perhaps I made an educated guess supported by the evidence of past interactions.”

Snow snorted, turning his gaze to Sejanus. “Always so quick with a response, she is.”

Sejanus glanced at you, a knowing look in his eyes. If you were a mindreader, you could imagine him gloating in his mind about how he was right, that this was a sign that Snow cared for you in some way. But you only knew it to be yet another indicator that you and Snow could never, ever, get along. “Her wit has never dulled.”

“Should we see, then, if her dance skills are still equally sharp?”

Sejanus looked at you again, a brilliant smile on his face. Oh, how you wished to wipe that look off. This was not proof of anything. This did not prove his point. “I could not think of anything better.”

Damn you, Sejanus Plinth. Damn you. 

Snow held his arm out for you to take. You stared at it, not moving. “In order to dance with a lady, you must ask her. I do not recall you asking me anything.”

Snow glanced just beyond you. When you turned your head to follow his gaze, you saw your mother and Lady Dovecote watching the interaction carefully. As you looked back at Snow, he said, “Your mother would be disappointed if you did not dance with me.”

“It is amazing you became King when you are so lacking in manners.” But you knew your mother—the entirety of the ton, perhaps—would consider you insane to turn the King down so openly. So you took his arm and let him lead you onto the dance floor. 

He snorted. “You are the only person who speaks so freely to me.”

“Ah, so this is one last dance before my execution? How kind. Perhaps I was wrong about your cruelty.”

“There is much you are wrong about,” Snow said. You had reached the dance floor. The crowd parted around you, allowing you and Snow to take the middle of the floor. You faced him, allowing his hand to fall to you waist. You placed one hand on his shoulder, and let him take the other in his free hand. “It would be far too much of a shame to take your life.”

“Such a kind and gentle king.”

“Only for those who deserve it.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw your mother miming for you to smile. You fought the urge to sneer instead. Even if you would rather do anything else than be courted by Coriolanus Snow, acting out would not do you any favors. If you had any hope in finding a love match, you had to at least be cordial to him. So you smiled as prettily as you could. But you couldn’t help yourself from saying, “Then perhaps you should go see a physician. You seem to have lost your mind.”

To your surprise, Snow laughed. The sound almost scared you. When was the last time you heard Snow laugh? An actual laugh, at that. None of his snorts of derision or half-hearted chuckles when he was trying to charm someone. Had you ever heard him laugh before? You tried to wrack your brain, but you could not recall anything. In school, he had always been so serious—focused more on using the tools available to him to climb the social ladder rather than being a kid like everyone else. Though, you supposed, Snow was a far cry from everyone else. 

The music began to play, and Snow spun you around the dance floor. As you turned, you locked eyes with Sejanus. He wore a large grin on his face, seemingly sure that you and Snow were making nice. Why else would he have laughed at something you said? You wished you could yell out to Sejanus, tell him that he was dead wrong. 

“What is it that people say? Something about love driving people mad?”

This time, you did roll your eyes. “Oh, come off it. You and I both know perfectly well that you do not care for me. I hardly understand why you’re even entertaining this nonsense, if for no other reason than to torture me.”

Snow considered you. After a long moment of silence, he said, “I seek a bride who will produce me an heir. There are few women here who meet my standards. A woman of good breeding, from a respectable family, and intelligent enough to keep up with me. Someone who will be a good Queen and a good mother.”

“Someone that you can control.” You scoff. “You truly must see a physician, Your Majesty, if you think that I will fall in line with whatever you ask of me.”

His lips curled into a grin. Your stomach churned. “Not yet.”

The next morning, your mother promptly reported that you had danced with Coriolanus Snow not once, not twice, but three times to your father. To say he had been pleased was something of an understatement. He was certain that Snow would soon be reaching out to discuss a proposal. It did not matter how much you tried to downplay the situation—explain that he was only dancing with you for some other reason than him wishing to marry you. Your parents minds were made up. By the end of the season, you were to be Queen of Panem. 

“It’s just the nerves,” your mother dismissed as you sat in the drawing room, waiting for any suitor to call on you. “You will be more than confident once you are wed.”

You ground your teeth together. “I do not wish to marry Coriolanus Snow. I would marry anyone else. I would let you or Papa pick anyone else in the ton and I would not let out a single complaint. I cannot marry that man.”

Something just beyond you caught your mother’s attention. Your father, you supposed. “You should not say such things—” she began to say. Of course. Of course she would say that. 

“Why not? It is true. I would be miserable with him. I would rather die than be his bride, bear his children. Frankly, forcing me to marry him may as well be a death sentence.”

“Dear, you do not truly mean that—”

“And you must not know me at all if you think I am not being completely, and utterly, truthful right now. Coriolanus Snow is the last man I would ever wish to marry.”

Your mother leaned in close to you, hissing, “Stop talking right now, young lady.”

A frown settled on your face. Why was she so bothered about you speaking so freely? There was no one in the room but you, her, and a maid. Perhaps she was concerned about the maid spreading gossip with other maids and that slowly enveloping the ton. It wasn’t a non-possibility, to be sure. But why was she acting so…scandalized by your words? 

Unless…

You turned your head toward the entrance of the room. There should Coriolanus Snow, dressed in a dark red suit, holding a bouquet of white roses. Your mouth went dry. Oh, why does he keep showing up when you least expect it? “The butler typically announces when a guest has arrived,” you said. 

You couldn’t read his face. A part of you wondered if you had offended him. You didn’t particularly care about offending him, but you also knew that such an act could have dire consequences on you marrying anyone else. “He was going to, but I wanted my arrival to be a surprise.” He took a step closer to you, holding out the roses. “I just had these freshly picked from my garden.”

A part of you wanted to smack the roses out of his hands, but you had already embarrassed your mother enough in front of Snow. You took the roses, yet couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “I cannot believe a man like you could grow something so beautiful.”

Your mother let out a loud—obviously fake—laugh. “Oh, isn’t she just funny? She always says the silliest things.”

Snow chuckled. He smiled at your mother—the sort of smile that your stomach twist into knots. Like he knew something no one else did, and he was reveling in that. “It is one of her more…charming traits.” He turned his attention back to you. “As lovely as this is, I came to ask if you would like to promenade with me in the square.”

Oh, Snow. Why was he so good at backing you into corners? You took a breath and passed the bouquet to the maid so she could put them in a vase. “That would be nothing short of a delight.”

He held out his arm for you to take. You slipped your hand around his bicep, your nails digging in. If he felt any pain, he didn’t show it. Instead, he leaned down so that you could only hear him whisper, “It seems like you fall in line much easier than you would like to believe.”

[annwrites]

sons & daughters. aemond | king's landing outtake.

— pairing: aemond targaryen x fem!reader

— type: outtake from this series

— summary: aemond comes to you for comfort after his brother & yours gave him a new mount: the pink dread.

— tw: grooming (sort of), incest

— word count: 1,037

— tagging list: @tvangelism @aemondwhoresworld @callsignwidow @emilynissangtr

"My Prince, I should take you to your mother, the Queen—"

Aemond ignores the knight's insistencies as he turns down yet another hall, bringing him closer and closer to the only door he wishes to hide behind... While being held in one particular's arms.

"She will have to wait," he mumbles.

He does not so much as bother knocking when he turns the handle, leaving the man to wait outside as he swiftly turns the lock.

"N-Niece," he calls, to no answer.

He steps further into the room, praying you are here.

With it being midday, however, you may be with your septa. Or in the library, the gardens, with your family.

Your brothers.

He will tell you what they've done and you will abhor it, he's sure.

"Niece," he calls again, glancing to your made bed, a cloth doll lain atop the comforter.

"Aemond?" Calls a sweet, quiet voice from the balcony.

He turns, tears brimming in his eyes. But even in his distressed state, he must insist it.

He does not know why he does sometimes. It is almost a compulsive habit now, more than anything. Nevertheless, he says it.

"Uncle," he replies, coming closer, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into a hug.

He begins to quietly weep.

"What's wrong?" You ask, snuggling against his chest.

Already he feels in better spirits. He always does when he's with you.

He knows not what he would do if the two of you were ever parted.

He chooses not to think on such horrible prospects now, however. You'll always be together, he's sure of it.

You have to be.

Are meant and supposed to be.

"We were in the Dragonpit. Me, Aegon, Jace, and Luke. They..." He pauses, sniffling, holding you tighter. "They told me they'd found me a dragon."

A beat of silence.

"It was a pig."

Your brows furrow.

"They tied wings to it. Called it 'The Pink Dread'. They laughed at me."

"I'm sorry, uncle. That was very cruel."

You pull back, smiling softly up at him, so he kisses your forehead.

"We could always keep it? Make it a pet. I think that would show them."

His lip twitches in amusement, but he still shakes his head. "I don't think a pig would be welcome in the Red Keep, beloved niece. Not unless it's meant to go to the kitchens, at least."

You nod, considering what you will do when you next see Jacaerys. Give him an earful, that much is for certain.

Aemond holds the back of your head as you continue gazing up at him. "I'm—I'm still a true Targaryen. Whether I have one or not. Just...just like you."

You know he is wanting for your reassurance, so you give it gladly.

"I know you are."

You hug yourself to his chest again. "You are very intelligent. I always liked when you read to me, before I myself could. And you're brave. Like when you practice in the yard. Even if they're only wooden swords, you're still very..."

"Adept," he finishes.

You nod. "Yes."

He smiles, resting his cheek against the crown of your head. "You always loved when we played as a knight and his lady."

He loved showing off his swordsmanship skills then, so as to try and impress you. It filled him with pride when you would clap excitedly after he saved you from a fictitious monster.

"It was fun."

You're silent for a moment.

"Do you...do you think one needs to have silver hair to be one?"

He raises his head, gazing down at you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "No. I like your hair perfectly the way it is."

In truth, he does wish it matched his own—only because it would serve to further make the two of you even more alike than you already are.

"All you need be is my niece."

You nod slowly.

He glances to your bed, then back to you. "Do...do you want to?"

You blink up at him, nervously shifting on your feet then, chewing your lower lip.

He watches you closely, misliking your hesitation. You are supposed to be the same in all things. His wants are meant to be your wants. Especially this. These times are the ones he most enjoys spending with you.

Their purpose is many things, but foremost of which is to bring the two of you impossibly closer. To have a secret between you that only the two of you can understand.

Your parents wouldn't. They would tell you it's wrong.

Aemond knows otherwise.

"It would make me feel better," he tells you quietly, hoping you'll say yes to that.

And then there is a sharp knock at the door, causing the both of you to jump in surprise.

"Prince Aemond, I should escort you to your mother's chambers. She should be informed of today's incident."

Aemond groans in irritation, resting his chin atop your head, keeping his arms wound tightly around you.

He wishes the two of you could be together during all hours of the day like this. Never apart. If he were your husband, it would be so. Everything would be as he wishes for it to be.

You would be like his mother is to his father: doting, and docile, and pretty, and affectionate. And he would be strong, and fierce, and wise, and would instruct you in all things.

And you would listen, like you always have. Because he knows best.

He is older, after all, so it makes sense that he does. That, and he is a boy. Son of the King himself.

"I wish he'd leave," he grumbles. "So we can be alone together."

You remain silent.

Finally, he takes a small step back and you feel a tightness in your chest—which you'd only just become aware of—loosen.

Aemond leans down one last time, cupping your face in his hands, and he kisses you.

"I will see you later, niece," he says softly, and with a warm smile.

You nod happily. "Alright."

You turn, watching him leave, his guard close at his heels.

You're unsure why you lock the door behind him...when there is always the hidden passage.

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [36] - Advice

A.N: Last couple of chapters! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Proving oneself can be dangerous.

Word Count: 2200

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

To be honest, this right here?

This was the last thing you expected to happen when you married Bucky.

You were woken up with kisses, a giggle escaping from your lips as you turned around and Bucky got on top of you and made himself comfortable between your legs, his hair still damp from his shower.

“You’re up early,” you muttered, trying to snap out of the pleasant warmth of sleep as you cupped his cheek and he turned his head to press a kiss into your palm.

“Hi beautiful.”

“Hey.”

“Slept well?”

“Mm hm,” you said as he caressed over your hair, making you smile but before you could ask him the same question, your phone vibrated on the nightstand. You reached out to get it, Bucky letting out a displeased groan.

“Just ignore whoever it is.”

You frowned when you saw the time on your phone, then read the texts from Rhett and your father, and cussed under your breath.

“I’m gonna have to run around the whole day…”

“Or we can just spend the whole day in bed,” Bucky offered as you put the phone back on the nightstand.

“We can’t.”

“We can.”

“Bucky, you do realize that you and I have a very busy day, right?”

Bucky scoffed a laugh.

“You do realize that I don’t give a fuck about that while you’re naked, right?”

You slapped at his vibranium arm lightly, coaxing a chuckle out of him.

“We have a deal to close, Barnes.”

“They can wait.”

“Where’s your sense of professionalism?”

“Glad you asked,” he said “I fucked it out of my system last night.”

“Ever the romantic,” you said with a grin and he dipped his head down to brush his lips against yours, making you heave a pleasant sigh and wrap your arms around his neck.

 “Say that again,” he muttered to your lips and you tilted your head.

“You already heard it last night.”

“Yeah but if you say it during sex, it doesn’t count. Everyone knows that.”

A smile you couldn’t stop warmed your face and you raised your brows, trying to adapt an overly serious expression.

“So as it turns out,” you started, “in a recent, surprising event…”

“Look who’s being romantic now—”

“I love you too.”

He gave you a smirk before dipping his head to kiss you again and a giggle climbed up your throat.

“Does this mean we’re not getting a divorce?” Bucky asked and you looked up at him.

“Do you want to?”

“Fuck no,” he said. “Do you?”

“Maybe.”

He pulled back to see you better, a frown pinching his brows together.

“I mean if we are dating—”

“Charm, we’re married.”

“No, you know what I mean,” you insisted, “If we are dating, I want a better proposal.”

“So you’ll divorce me just so that I can propose again?”

“In a more romantic manner yes,” you said. “And I want a honeymoon. A real one.”

“You want to get a divorce to get married again?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” you asked and he let out a chuckle, then heaved a sigh and caressed your cheekbone, looking down at you fondly.

“Counter offer,” he said. “How about we just don’t divorce, but do all that anyway?”

“You’ll propose while we’re married?”

“I’ll propose not getting a divorce with a ring, how does that sound?”

You pursed your lips together, deep in thought.

“That could work I think,” you said. “And the honeymoon?”

“After you take over?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Can’t risk anything at this point.”

“Honeymoon after you take the crown then,” he said. “See? Open communication saves us from divorce, may be the therapist was onto something.”

You scoffed a laugh, then gasped.

“Oh my God, Bucky,” you said, squeezing at his arm. “The sex journals! We need to fill out the sex journals!”

That made him smirk before he leaned down to kiss your neck.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to describe it well though?” he asked, making your eyes flutter close. “I feel like you might need another demonstration, no?”

You bit at your lip, running your fingernails over the nape of his neck as he kissed down your body.

“Yeah,” you managed to say. “Another demonstration sounds good.”

                                          *

You and Bucky got to the office a little bit late, so after Rhett signed the deal, you insisted on accompanying him to his jet as an apology for being late. Bucky had to stay at the office because of his next meeting, but you couldn’t help but notice he was much more relaxed when it came to Rhett now, probably because of last night.

“So,” you said as you and Rhett left the car and you leaned back to the car while Rhett turned to you. “New York wasn’t so bad huh?”

“Eh,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Still prefer Chicago.”

“Of course you do.”

“But I’ll come again,” he said. “When you take the crown. To congratulate you.”

You gave him a bright smile.

“Rhett…”

“I have no problem telling the pilot there’s going to be another passenger,” he joked, nodding in the direction of the jet and you let out a laugh.

“Come on now.”

He held up his hands, gesturing surrender.

“Thank you though,” you said. “Really. You’ve kept your promise even if you didn’t have to.”

“I did have to,” he said. “Told you. Loyalty above everything. My word wouldn’t hold much weight if I went around breaking promises.”

You heaved a sigh, nibbling on your lip.

“I’ll make sure you don’t regret it,” you said. “This whole deal. Not only you, but the whole Chicago. I know they have their doubts, but I will prove—”

“Let me deal with Chicago, sweetheart,” he said. “You focus on here, okay? You still have a throne to climb, you can’t afford any distractions.”

“I know,” you muttered. “But hey, tell Alice I said hi.”

“I probably shouldn’t,” he said, making you laugh. “She’ll ask me if you said that to me in bed, so…”

“Sounds like her.”

“By the way,” he said. “What do you think about betrothing your firstborn and mine?”

“I think multiple people would end up getting shot in that wedding,” you pointed out, coaxing a chuckle out of him.

“Yeah, good point,” he said and opened up his arms so that you could hug him tight, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, hugging you back.

“Y/N,” he said as you stepped back from his embrace. “If anyone can play this game in New York, it’s you. So I don’t think you need my advice but I need you to remember something.”

You pulled your brows together. “What?”

“Ian.”

“No one respects him,” you said. “He may have his men, but most of the bosses support me—”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he said. “He is an idiot, but even an idiot would know that he is never going to get the full power while you’re alive. He will put a hit on you.”

You paused for a moment, then shook your head.

“Ian doesn’t have the guts to put a hit on me.”

“If he has the guts to take your title from you, he has the guts to put a hit on you,” Rhett said. “I’m serious. He will try to kill you, so you have to make sure you pull the trigger first.”

“Rhett—”

“There’s no walking around it,” he insisted. “There are no loopholes or exceptions, you know the rules. Kill him before he kills you, Y/N.”

You licked your lips, a shiver going down your spine before you forced yourself to nod.

“I know,” you said. “I will.”

He eyed you up and down, then extended his hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you, princess of New York.”

You felt yourself smile, then you took his hand to shake it.

“Pleasure is all mine, prince of Chicago,” you said and he winked at you, then made his way to his jet. You let out a breath, then got in the car, pressing your palms on your eyes.

Rhett was right.

You knew he was right, you knew the rules. You hated Ian’s guts, but killing someone in the family without a direct attack…

“Where to, Mrs. Barnes?”

You swallowed thickly, then lowered your hands and smiled at the driver.

“Uh, home please,” you said. “Thank you.”

                                            *

 You really weren’t in the mood to have dinner with your and Bucky’s family, and Bucky obviously shared the sentiment. He had spent almost an hour on the phone trying to convince you to skip it, but you knew you couldn’t. It had been a while you’d had dinner together, and your father had texted you earlier to make sure you remembered.

Bucky had told you he would be a bit late, so you got to your father’s house before everyone else. Winnifred and George weren’t there yet, neither was Becca, so when you walked inside and saw your aunt busy with her phone in the living room, you tried to walk past the room without her noticing it but she had already raised her head.

“Y/N.”

You grimaced but managed to plaster a smile on your face as you turned to look at her.

“Hi auntie.”

“It’s been a while,” she said, her voice cold for some reason and you pulled your brows together.

“It has,” you said. “Is everything alright?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

You blinked a couple of times.

“Uh, no reason,” you murmured. “Is my dad around?”

“In his office.”

“Thanks,” you said. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine, Y/N.”

You pursed your lips, then raised your hands, mocking surrender.

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll see you at dinner then.”

She didn’t even answer, so you shook your head slightly and made your way to your father’s office to knock on the door, then opened it to peek your head in.

“Hi dad.”

“Hi sweetheart!” he said, getting up from his seat as you stepped in, then hugged you. “Come in, sit down!”

You took the seat across from his desk while he held up his glass of whiskey.

“Would you like one?”

“Sure,” you said. “Do you know what’s up with auntie?”

He scoffed a laugh, filling you a glass of whiskey before handing it to you and going behind his desk to sit down.

“She’s been very cross with me as well.”

“For?”

“Rhett,” he said, making you roll your eyes. “Ian must’ve told her how he treated him.”

“Why does Ian think everyone has to coddle him?” you asked and he repressed a smile.

“Y/N.”

“Chicago rules are different than New York,” you told him. “He would’ve known if he spent like five minutes asking around instead of walking up to him and demanding his respect.”

“Rhett doesn’t seem to respect anyone but you.”

You sipped your drink, leaning back.

“Yeah,” you said. “He and I have history.”

“And I heard he was very brutal with Ian.”

“Just a bit,” you said. “Ian has no one to blame but himself, as I said.”

“And you made the deal with him?”

You let a proud grin curl your lips.

“Yeah.”

“Good job,” he said, making you tilt your head in surprise. He let out a chuckle at your expression and heaved a sigh.

“I still don’t like that you’re getting involved in the business.”

“I had to,” you said without missing a beat. “Someone had to clean up your heir’s mess.”

He held your gaze in his, then clicked his tongue.

“He did mess up,” he said. “And unlike what you seem to believe, you’re not the only person who can see that.”

You pulled your brows together and your father shook his head.

“He knows it too.”

“Does he?”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “That leads him to make more mistakes, I guess. Because he is very eager to prove himself.”

“He can get in line,” you said. “I’ve been breaking my back trying to prove myself.”

“Yeah but unlike him, you’re succeeding it.”

You gawked at him, but before you could say anything, someone knocked on the door, making you look over your shoulder.

“Mr. Barnes is here, sir. Ma’am,” the maid said and your father took a deep breath, then stood up.

“I’d better check in with your aunt as well,” he said, pressing a kiss on top of your head. “Finish your drink and join us?”

“…Sure,” you muttered as he walked out of the room and you slipped a little in your seat, then looked behind you again when you heard Bucky’s voice.

“Charm?”

“Hey,” you said, smiling at him and getting up from the armchair. “Welcome.”

“Thanks,” he said, his eyes focused on you. “Is everything okay?”

You paused for a moment, then forced yourself to nod.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Work,” you said and shook your head, then stepped closer to him to peck him on the lips. He wrapped an arm around you, cupping your cheek with his other hand.

“Anything I should worry about?”

“Not at all,” you said after a beat. “Just…something Rhett said. Let’s go, I’m starving.”

Chapter 37

[sun-snatcher]

hello! i love ur work and i was wondering if u could do some live action zuko angst (that makes ur heart sink) and then it progresses to fluff (that makes ur heart swell) please? HAHA idk if it makes sense but i rlly love ur work!! hope ure doing well n no pressure!!!

🐉・ HEARTBURN

summ.  Fresh from his banishment, Zuko faces the aftermath of his punishment in both his dreams and his waking hours. pairing. Zuko x f!reader (established relationship) w.count.  1k.  a/n.  A bit abstract on this one, but just typical dream logic. A glimpse at Zuko’s descent into madness, almost? Sorry anon if this is mostly angst than fluff! 🧎🏻‍♀️

Zuko’s dreams manifest at the scent of burnt flesh and the sound of his own screaming.

He feels the molten sting of a melting crown upon his skin and the fantastical beast that is his father; something monstrous— something scaled, fanged, clawed, and too large an appetite, with a touch and breath of fire that lights the skies in a blaze.

( He wakes up with his voice hoarse from screaming. The 41st Division will eventually learn early on not to mention it. They just leave a hot pot of tea ready for him come the mornings, by General Iroh's orders. )

Sometimes, it transgresses. Sometimes, it’s his mother who burns while he watches from the sidelines of the Agni Kai; Or Azula. Their shrieks mix with his when he wakes. 

Sometimes, it’s Iroh who scalds him. Great Dragon of the West, jasmine-white with razor teeth and a flame that burns as hot as the sun; serpent eyes a shining gold and a sharper tongue that spoke of his disappointment for his nephew. 

Sometimes, it begins with you.

Please, you beg, at the foot of a winged beast. It speaks in the voice of his father; damning, all-encompassing. It warns the Prince the price of compassion, of mercies, and of weaknesses. Eliminate her, or I will. 

Rarely does Zuko ever move. He’d plead in your name, to spare your life. It never happens; he just wakes to the smell of smoke and the sound of your screaming.

( There are dreams he doesn’t speak at all to defend you. The shame devours him whole. )

“I’ve killed you over a hundred times, in my sleep.”

In the aftermath of another nightmare, you turn to face Zuko. You’re not quite sure what to say. 

“Other nights, it’s the 41st, or Uncle,” he says, quietly. “Even mom, or Azula.”

You turn back to the small medical chest on the desk. The infirmary is quieter at times like these; the soldiers of the 41st know not to visit the usual haunts of their Prince. Tonight, Zuko will have to replace the bandages of his scar, and there are only two people on this ship he’d ever trust in his life to lay a hand on it.

You’re shifting towards where he’s sitting on one of the cots. “May I?”

( You ask. You always ask. Even when you’ve done this nearly fifty times, you ask. Zuko is glad; there’s a comfort in agency, especially when he’s gotten so used to losing it every time he sleeps.  )

He nods, and you make quick work to unravel the bandages. When the layers come away, you observe the way his left eye shuts and opens as he blinks, remaining half-closed into a permanent expression of pain. He looks away, downcast. 

The skin around is stretched taut, some areas rawer than others, marred with growing scar tissue that knots in twisting valleys. ( Zuko has only seen the scar once. He’s covered the mirrors in his room ever since; avoids glancing at his own passing reflections. )

The wound is still fresh; the memories fresher.

You don’t flinch at the sight or recoil like the other soldiers or dignitaries. 

He finds… solace in that.

( Something roils in his mind. It uncurls and hisses and growls. )

“Tilt your head for me,” you say, ready to replace the cotton on his eye with a new one. 

He stops your wrist just as you do. 

Your heart jumps at the contact. His hands are warm.

“Why?” he blurts.

You blink in confusion.

“Why’d you come with me?”

The reply is instant, and unintentionally drowned in affection. “Where else would I have belonged?”

Zuko almost answers instinctively: With me. By my side. He shakes his head.

“You should have never come,” he says, instead. He’d grown fond of you over the years. Too fond; over some Firenation colonel’s daughter, a force to be reckoned with and yet a childhood friend who he’d played and studied and fought with countless times. Fond enough that he’d been foolish to let you step foot into the ship of the 41st Division the day he’d been banished; fond enough to be foolish enough to allow you to put yourself in harm’s way. “You could’ve had a better future back home.”

“But a miserable one,” you counter. 

His nostrils flare as he sighs. You watch the way his brows weave to a frown, the way they always did whenever he’s tamping down his frustration. "Nothing is more miserable than being banished from home. Yet here you are walking away from it.”

“You and I both know the palace was never a home for me,” you say. “I’ve been by your side my entire life. I’m not about to break that streak over some punishment. You matter to me.”

Zuko’s heart stifles. 

( Compassion, he hears the wings of the blood-red dragon in his dreams unfurl. Compassion is a sign of weakness. )

“It was a stupid move,” he blurts, letting go of you. He had wanted it to be emotionless, but it comes out as distinctively bitter: “Sooner or later you’ll come to regret your decision. Then, you’ll see I was right all along.”

“Maybe,” you say, just to appease him. “But I doubt it.”

( Lies, jeers the serpent. You have only yourself to rely on in this world, Zuko. )

For the sake of conversation, you don’t provoke him further. You continue, instead, with replacing the dressings around his eye. He’s angry enough as is with the world— with you. For being stubborn. And strong. And steadfast. And loyal. And—

Zuko glances at your face in focus, your hands so careful in binding the gauze it’s nearly featherlight. “Tell me if it hurts,” you say, with gentle authority. 

The ire leaves his body. Zuko’s gaze softens at a realisation:

“Not once have you ever hurt me. Not even in my dreams.”

It’s a statement so frighteningly vulnerable that it has you stilling. Your breath staggers. Something swells in your chest. You let your hand rest on his cheek, thumb below his scar. The touch is reassuring. Zuko wants to lean into it.

“I don’t think I ever could,” you answer, honestly. 

( She can, sings the beast. She will. And once she does, know that it will burn tenfold than what I've done. )

Zuko's hand settles on top of yours. 

“You can hurt me,” he concedes, solemn, voice barely above a whisper. “You can if you must. I command it.”

( The dragon in his head hisses. For now, it retreats. )