#He looks like a Queen. A woman. Long flowing silver hair and all. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nicoline1998enilocin · 2 months

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Love at first sight

PAIRING | Prince!Tony Stark x Civilian!Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT | 9.7K

SUMMARY | Howard and Maria Stark, the current reigning king and queen, are planning on retiring, but they aren't able to until the heir to the throne is married. Their only son, Tony, feels like it isn't the right time for him to get married, nor does he have anyone he would even think about marrying in the first place. This all changes when you walk into his life and turn his entire plan for the future upside down.

RATING | Explicit (E)

WARNINGS/TAGS | Modern royalty AU, a few mentions of 'Y/N', referenced arranged marriage, use of nicknames (Darling, Baby, Angel, Gorgeous, Babydoll)

SMUT | Virgin!Tony, Virgin!Reader, size kink, daddy kink, breeding/pregnancy kink, dirty talk, lots of praise, fingering, handjob, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), cream pie, implied aftercare.

A/N | I want to wish the happiest of birthdays to @ccbsrmsf1 today! I'm so grateful for you, your love and support! Getting to know you has been the best thing that has happened to me the past couple of months, and without you I know I wouldn't be where I am today! This is one of your birthday presents from me, and I cannot wait to see what you think of this! I love you 3000, bestie! 🩷

A/N 2.0 | This one-shot is written based on this request from @ccbsrmsf1 and this Instagram post featuring the amazing artwork of @petite-madame! Thank you so much for the request, @ccbsrmsf1; I hope you enjoy what I did with this because writing was a lot of fun. This story is beta-read by @mrsbuckybarnes1917, for which I'm very thankful. 🩷

A/N 3.0 | Please note that the header for this fic has been changed as of March 10, 2024. If you see any reblogs with a different header, please note that those have been reblogged before this day, and I, unfortunately, cannot change those headers.

EVENTS Masterlist | @marvel-smash-bingo | Royalty AU

Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | Photo: Source

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist

~ Tony's POV ~

Tony sighs softly as he looks at himself in the mirror, currently getting dressed to attend a ceremony he's not entirely sure he understands. He knows the point of the ceremony - to find a suitable woman for him to marry. The current King and Queen - Howard and Maria Stark - have been looking to retire due to their age and for Tony to take over the throne, but he can't do that without marriage.

And that is just about the last thing on his mind. It's not that he doesn't want to take over their position because he does, but he knows he's not ready for marriage yet. Tony knows that if he enters an arranged marriage, he will resent the woman he is supposed to rule the Kingdom with, and he doesn't think any woman deserves to be treated like that.

Just as he closes the last button of his shirt, he hears a knock on the door, and with a simple 'come in,' he allows the person to enter.

"Are you ready to go, Darling?" a woman asks softly and gently, and Tony meets her eyes in the mirror. Long, blonde hair flowing over her shoulders and her floor-length silver gown makes her look angelic to Tony.

"Almost, Mom. I need a moment to put on my tie, and then I'm ready to go," he tells her reassuringly. She nods before leaving the room and letting everyone know the ceremony can start. In the large ballroom, about 25 women from the Kingdom have gathered with their parents to give their daughters a shot at getting married to the heir to the throne.

Not long after, Tony can hear the loud music from the ballroom. He knows his parents are introduced, so he must prepare for his grand entrance.

His tie is quickly tied, and with one last look in the mirror to fix his hair, he is out the door and ready to head to the ballroom. However, just before he can turn the corner to lead to the ballroom, he finds a woman wandering the halls and feels he needs to help her.

"Are you looking for something?" Tony asks gently, and the woman snaps her head up at him. With big, round eyes, she looked at him, and that one look had a warmth spreading through his chest like he had never felt before. Is this what love at first sight is like? Tony wondered, and a soft pink blush appeared at the thought.

With a soft smile and a voice like an angel, she tells him she got lost on her way back from the bathroom, where she had gone to freshen up before the ceremony. She got lost on her way back to the ballroom because the palace was like a giant maze.

"If you go through that door on the side, you can get back into the room without anyone noticing; that way, you won't draw too much attention to yourself," Tony tells the woman, and she does after a quick thank you. As soon as she slips through the door, Tony feels an almost empty feeling in his chest. The woman is gone, and the warmth she brought along went with her.

Now, all he wants is to see her again. In whichever capacity that may be.

~ Reader's POV ~

Since leaving the bathroom, finding the way back to the ballroom has been a maze. Just when you were about to give up all hope and maybe sit somewhere in a corner until someone came along, you ran into a tall man with dark curls, the most beautiful dark brown eyes you've ever seen, and a suit that perfectly displays every inch of him, leaving nothing to the imagination.

"Are you looking for something?" the man asks in a deep, smooth voice, and for a short moment, you're not sure what to do. You stand there as you get lost in his eyes before your mind snaps back to the moment, and you tell him what you are doing.

"I-I got lost, actually! I'm here for the ceremony, and I went to freshen up in the bathroom for a moment, but on my way back, well- I guess it's pretty clear I got lost," you tell him with a nervous chuckle, and he gives you a reassuring smile as an answer. Aside from the smile, you noticed the soft, pink blush on his cheeks, giving him a boyish charm that made him look beautiful.

"Oh, that happens all the time! If you go through that door on the side, you can get back into the room without anyone noticing; that way, you won't draw too much attention to yourself," he says, and you turn around to look at the door he's talking about. You whisper a soft thank you before turning around and going through the door, your heart racing a mile a minute as you look for your parents.

"Where were you?! The ceremony has already started!" your mother said to you, and you apologized before sitting next to her, waiting for the King and Queen to be introduced, followed by their son, Prince Anthony Edward Stark.

As soon as he walks through the large doors that lead into the ballroom, your eyes go as wide as saucers because you immediately recognize the man you have just been talking to. You just told the Prince his palace is like a maze. However, you only get to think about that briefly because as soon as the ceremony officially starts, all you can think about is what will happen.

One by one, every daughter is brought forward by her parents, and they give a speech to the King, Queen, and Prince about why their daughter should be the one to marry him and why they are the perfect fit to rule the Kingdom. This ceremony has taken place for years and years, and it is how King Howard and Queen Maria got married, too. But it's not what Tony wants.

When they are about to call you forward, the Prince gets up from his chair and wants to make an announcement. He clears his throat before announcing to everyone in attendance that the ceremony will be over, and everyone can go home.

"I want everyone to know that this is unnecessary to continue. I have made it clear to my parents that I am not ready to get married, and even though I respect our royal traditions, this is one I can not get behind," Tony declares, and a murmur rises throughout the room.

"And the reason for that is because I have met a woman who I would like to get to know better," he finishes, and that's when a roar flies through the room. A few parents are upset that they didn't even get a chance to introduce their daughter, let alone allow them to be chosen by Tony.

His eyes are searching for yours in the crowd, but you're already ushered away within the large group of people, quickly getting lost. Your heart sinks into your stomach at the idea you didn't have a chance to get introduced to him, even though you feel the same about marriage as he does. But since you're of age, you had to join, whether you wanted to or not. And now you're rushed outside, but your life suddenly doesn't seem complete without him. Without the man who made you believe in love at first sight.

~ Tony's POV ~

Since the ceremony, Tony has been walking around with a heavy feeling in his chest as he tries to find out more about you. But there appeared to be no trace of your existence wherever he looked. From asking everyone who could know about you to even going out on the streets to see if he could find you, it was all to no avail. That all changed one afternoon when he finally ran into you in a place he never expected.

He has been looking for you throughout the town and has worked up quite an appetite. He enters a small bakery with a simple yet beautiful sign saying 'Y/L/N Bakery.' The smell of fresh bread is spread out onto the street as he walks by, and as he feels his stomach rumble, he goes in to try one of the delicious pastries on display in the case.

"Good afternoon! How can I help you?" the woman behind the counter says, but she doesn't recognize Tony as he's dressed, so no one will recognize him. For a moment, he feels a little sting that you don't remember him, but that's gone as soon as it comes when he looks into your eyes again.

It's all there: the eyes he's been dreaming about, the hair he's been longing to run his fingers through, and the lips he's been dying to kiss. The woman he had been thinking about ever since running into one another in the palace.

Before his mind has caught up to what is happening, he stumbles out something unexpected, making you laugh in response, his cheeks heating up instantly.

"I want to go out with you," he said, and as soon as the words left his lips, he could feel the embarrassment flooding his body. This was not how he wanted to approach this; he didn't even know your name for crying out loud!

"Oh! Uhm... Well-" is all the woman on the other side of the counter can say, her hands rubbing together nervously.

"Y-You seem very nice and all, but I- I don't even know your name," she tells him, and Tony nods in response. She's entirely correct, and he is making a complete idiot out of himself in this bakery. He's secretly thanking every God he can think of that there's no one else in the bakery alongside you two.

"Tony. My name is Tony," he quickly says.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Tony. I'm Y/N." Tony allows himself to let her name swirl throughout his mind, and it is by far the most beautiful one he has heard.

"Y/N," he whispers, letting the name roll off his tongue to taste it.

"Yeah, that's me! But to return to your earlier offer, I'm taking my break in about 20 minutes. If you want, I can sit here in the bakery and have a little chat with you. It's not exactly 'going out' like you asked, but I hope it's okay with you," Y/N tells him, and he nods. He'd love nothing more than that.

~ Reader's POV ~

As soon as Tony walks into the bakery, there is something familiar about him. You can't quite pinpoint what that exactly is, but something about how he moves is like you've seen it countless times before. You watch as he takes his place at one of the small tables in front of the window. His movements are graceful despite his broad stature.

The 20 minutes fly by in the blink of an eye, and your Dad walks in to take over your duties for the next 45 minutes so you can take a long break.

"I'll just take a few pastries and go sit with him," you tell your Dad as you point at Tony. He's a friend who swung by, so I figured I could spend my lunch break with him," you say with a smile. After an approving nod, you take four croissants before putting them on two plates and bringing them to Tony.

"I hope you're hungry, Tony. I brought you something to eat," you tell him as you set the plate before him. He looks up at you. He has taken off his sunglasses, and that's when you realize who's in front of you—the Prince you were supposed to be introduced to during the ceremony a week earlier.

"Thank you, Y/N. That's very kind," he says as he looks at you, drinking in every inch of your face. You're wearing less make-up, and your hair is in a messy bun, but Tony likes something about how you look now even more than when he first saw you. You look more like yourself; he can tell you're in your element here.

"So, how long have you been working here?" Tony asks you just as you're about to take a bite out of your croissant.

"I grew up with the bakery. My Dad, who is behind the counter now - has owned this for almost 40 years, and I will take over somewhere in the next few years if everything goes according to plan! I have always been here, and since my sixteenth birthday, I have worked here," you say proudly. You love talking about the family bakery because it is your true happy place.

The rest of your lunch break is spent discussing your work inside the bakery and what you like to do in your free time. All too soon, however, the time has passed, and it's time for you to return to work.

"Y/N?" Tony asks, and you look at him as you're standing up. "Do you want to go out with me? You know, on an actual date?" He's wringing his hands nervously, and a blush is on his cheeks as he looks at you with a hint of nervousness.

"I'd love to, Tony. How about you pick me up on Saturday at 1? For a picnic in the park?" you ask, and he agrees. With one last goodbye, he leaves the bakery and returns to the palace. All you have to do is get through the next three days, and then you'll be able to see him again. Until then, you have the memory of him and his sweet words to keep you company.

The day of your date with Tony has arrived, and you're just about to step out the bakery door, so you can wait for Tony to meet you there. The sun is shining, and the temperature is very comfortable but not too hot, so you wear a red summer dress with white sandals and sunglasses to finish it off.

"Have fun on your date, Baby," your Dad says as he closes the container where he puts some pastries for you to take. He sends you off with a kiss on your head, and you're very grateful that your parents understand the situation. However, you didn't mention that you are going out with the Prince because you didn't want to put too much pressure on your picnic.

"Thank you, Dad. I love you," you say before walking to the front door, ready to meet Tony. You're a few minutes too early, so you sit on one of the tables on the little terrace, letting the sun warm your skin as you wait. Luckily, you don't have to wait long because before you know it, Tony walks your way, and he looks like a God in the outfit he's wearing.

Tight, beige shorts that reveal his legs perfectly, spanning over his thighs and hips just enough to frame his bulge nicely, too. The light blue shirt he's wearing spans tight over his upper body, the buttons looking like they're about to pop with one wrong move. Topping that with his neat facial hair, a pair of sunglasses, and his messy curls, he looks like he walked right out of the romance novels you've been known to enjoy now and again.

"Good afternoon, you look beautiful!" Tony says as you kiss each other on each cheek as a greeting. The smell of his cologne invades your senses almost right away, and it is so manly yet very clean at the same time, and there's a bit of him in there to finish it off. You have opted for a light, floral smell, which Tony takes a slight whiff of, and he immediately knows it's his favorite scent and wants to smell it every single day from now on.

"Shall we, Gorgeous?" he asks, and you look at him as he calls you that. Butterflies in your stomach go crazy as you nod before hooking your arm through his, allowing him to lead the way to the picnic. The pastries your Dad gave you are in a bag hanging over your shoulder as you two make your way to the park at a slow, comfortable pace.

"So, I know this is a bit of an odd question, but what is it like to be a Prince?" you ask, deciding to get right into it. The question has been swirling through your mind since your first conversation, and you couldn't wait to ask him.

"Going for the deep stuff, are we?" Tony asks with a chuckle, the butterflies in his stomach going crazy this time. You hum in response, looking up at him, smiling as you listen to his story.

"Well, where do I start? There's nothing extraordinary about it if you ask me. I attend some events with my parents; I am preparing to take over the Kingdom one day, and things like that. It's not as glamorous as everyone might think," he shrugs, but you don't believe him for a second.

"I'm not sure I believe that for even a second! Your life seems much more interesting than you make it out to be. Constant parties, fancy dinners, and things like that, I feel like that must be a dream!" you tell him in a teasing yet enthusiastic tone, and he can't help but smile as he listens to you talking about your perspective of his life.

"You know what, if it weren't for the ceremony, we wouldn't have met, and that would have been a real shame," he says after thinking for a moment.

"Speaking of which, were you there as a guest, or...?" he lets his question trail off, the rest of it implied as you know what he's about to ask. He wants to know if you were one of the candidates for the arranged marriage.

"I was one of the ladies who was supposed to be introduced to you, but right before we could get up, you decided you didn't want the ceremony to continue because you had already met someone. And that's kind of why I was surprised when you asked me out, to be honest. If there is someone else, why would you be going out with me?" you ask, shyness creeping in as you ask the last question.

Tony chuckles as he shakes his head, and his curls bounce playfully when he does.

"Gorgeous, the only reason I said that is because of you. You're the woman who I saw and wanted to get to know. You're the woman who caught my eye, and ever since we ran into each other, I knew none of the women in the room would compare to you and your beauty. You're the one who made my heart beat faster, and I was quite sad I never caught your name that night," he says, and that's when the two of you come to a halt.

"Do you- I mean- Really?" you ask him with furrowed brows.

"Yeah. I know it's probably way too soon to say this, but I never believed in love at first sight until I met you, Gorgeous. The moment I walked into the bakery and saw you again, it felt like my entire life fell back into place again, and I knew I wanted to get to know you better," Tony tells you as he looks into your eyes.

Even though his are hidden behind sunglasses, you know they're focused on yours as he says those things. Your gaze flicks down to his lips as you bite yours before you stand on your tiptoes, reaching for him. Your lips make contact with the facial hair on his cheek, the feeling of it scratchy against the softness of your lips.

"Thank you for finding me, Tony," you whisper as you watch his cheeks turn red. A smile tugs on the corners of his lips as you move to be flat on your feet again.

The picnic was like one straight out of a fairytale. Everything felt so natural between you, from cracking jokes and laughing constantly to some of the most amazing foods you've ever had. At one moment, Tony moved to interlace his fingers with yours, and you two have been seated like that ever since.

"Your hand is so much larger than mine, look! Mine is completely dwarfed when it's in yours," you tell him as you raise your hands, and Tony can feel himself twitch in his pants as you say that. It's something he's been dreaming about: you're so much smaller than he is, and in his dreams, he can't get enough of telling you just that and how much it turns him on.

Lucky for him, you then change the topic, and he goes to sit a little differently, so you won't be able to see the fact that he's pitching a tent already like a horny teenager.

The rest of your date goes by smoothly, and you're back at the bakery right before dinnertime, just as you promised your parents.

"Thank you for the amazing date, Tony; it was an honor to be taken out by the Prince," you tell him as he pulls you in for a hug. His strong arms pull you against his chest comfortably, and you never want to leave his hold if you can help it.

"You're welcome, Gorgeous; I'll be looking forward to seeing you again soon," he tells you before moving down to place a kiss on your cheek, and you turn red at the feeling of his facial hair - wondering what it would feel like to have it scratch the same way between your thighs. You quickly push the idea away because you've only ever been on one date with him, and it is inappropriate to think about him that way.

After your last goodbye, you walk into the bakery before letting out a small sigh, and your Dad immediately knows what's going on in your head.

"So? Did you two have fun?" he asks with a quirked brow, and you nod.

"We did. Tony's very kind and funny, and he invited me to a party in a few weeks as his date, so I think I can consider it a success!" you tell him as you walk to the back, and he nods. It warms his heart to see you this happy and to know it's the Prince making you feel like that secretly feels like a cherry on top for him. Though you don't know that he knows, and he would like to keep it that way for now.

Since the two of you shared your picnic in the park, Tony has been by the bakery a few times during your lunch break, and it is definitely the highlight of your day each time he did, but now he's dropping by for an entirely different reason.

The bakery is empty, as it's right before closing time, and you're just cleaning up. The bell above the door rings, pulling your attention to the man you're slowly falling in love with.

"Hi, Tony! What are you doing here?" you ask curiously as you see him walking in.

"I just wanted to give you a little something for our date tomorrow," he says as he holds up a large bag with what you can only assume will be very fancy and expensive.

"A little something, you say?" You walk around the counter, take the bag from his hands, and peek inside. Inside is a stunning dark blue evening gown, a pair of shoes, a matching set of silver earrings, and a necklace to finish the look.

"You got me all this?" you look at him wide-eyed. You had gotten a beautiful dress from a small boutique in town, which is nothing compared to the silky gown in the bag you're holding. It would have been fine for the gala Tony invited you to, but this will make you look like you fit right in.

"I don't even know where to begin with thanking you," you whisper as you look up at him. He has a warm, inviting smile on his lips as he looks back at you.

"There's no need to thank me, Gorgeous. As long as you wear this tomorrow, you will be the most beautiful woman there, and I know for a fact I won't be able to keep my eyes off you all night," he tells you with a wink before placing a kiss on your cheek, leaving you with a warm spot there as he turns around and heads out the door.

The next evening came all too soon for your liking, but you're very fortunate Tony was waiting for you in front of the palace, ready to escort you into the large building. As soon as you get out of the car, you see him, and the suit he's wearing fits perfectly and has a matching color to your dress.

"Wow, you look magnificent tonight, Gorgeous," Tony says as he helps you out of the car, ready to be escorted in.

"You look amazing too," you tell him with a shy smile as you look at him; his hair is slicked back neatly this time, and even though you miss his curls, this makes him look like a true gentleman and the boyish charm you fell for has never left his face.

"Shall we?" he asks, and you nod, allowing him to guide you into the palace and lead you through seemingly countless hallways and doors. Eventually, you reach the hallway where you two first met, and Tony can't help but draw attention to it.

"Remember this? This is where you told me you got lost in the 'maze' of this castle," he chuckles.

"What do you think? It's hard to forget! But secretly, I'm delighted I ran into you here. Otherwise, I most likely wouldn't have been here tonight," you tell him, but he shakes his head.

"I am sure I would have picked you even between all those women. There's something about you that feels like I'm coming home, and I cannot get enough of your presence. You make me laugh without a single effort, and I feel butterflies whenever you smile or even look at me. So yeah, I think I would have picked you that night, but I'm also glad we took the odd route here and did it this way," he says as he bends down to kiss your cheek, his facial hair tickling you again.

"I'm glad we did it this way too, Tony, but I also think we should go in because I don't want to make the King and Queen wait for our arrival!" you tell him, and he nods. The two of you walk in through the large doors of the ballroom, and he quickly guides you to the large table at the back of the room, where they are currently seated.

"Oh, Darling, it's wonderful of you to join us tonight," Maria says warmly as she looks at you, stretching her hand to introduce herself.

"I'm Maria Stark, and this is my husband, Howard. Anthony has told us all about you already, and we're honored to welcome you tonight," she says, and you feel a little chuckle bubble up as you hear her using Tony’s full name. He smiles in return as he hears your chuckle, and the butterflies in his stomach go wild at the sound. He can listen to that sound for all eternity and never get sick of it.

"That's my official name, but I usually go by Tony in casual settings," he whispers in your ear, and that's when it clicks. He has given you his nickname, which makes perfect sense.

"I'm Y/N Y/L/N, and it's an absolute honor to meet both of you tonight. Thank you so much for inviting me along," you tell them, and they nod in response. After that, Tony guides you to the chair on his left, and you look into the ballroom, which feels odd.

"Do you ever get used to being seated here? Because I feel a little awkward sitting here, knowing I'm just one of them," you tell Tony, and he gently shakes his head.

"You'll get used to it eventually, but there's no need to feel awkward about sitting here, Gorgeous. You belong here just as much as everyone else sitting at this table," he says, and you choose to believe him. Even though it's still a little bit awkward at first, you're quickly getting used to it, just like he said, and before you know it, the dinner is over, and it is time to dance.

"Did you want to share a dance with me on this wonderful evening, Gorgeous?" Tony asks as he stretches his hand for you to take, and you take it as you get up from your chair, ready to be led onto the cleared space that will now function as the dancefloor.

For the better part of an hour, you and Tony have been enjoying yourselves there, doing everything from silly dances to slow dancing. You two have done everything, and now it's time to take a little breather. Tony grabs your hand before pulling you through the large doors, the halls, and a balcony, where you have a beautiful view of the city.

"How are you enjoying yourself so far, Gorgeous? Are you having fun?" he asks as he stands beside you, his elbows on the balcony railing as he looks at you. Like Tony's, your face is flushed from the warmth and dancing.

"It's so much fun! I never knew dancing would make me so happy!" you tell him excitedly, and it works wonders for Tony, too. That's precisely why he gathers every last bit of courage before standing up straight and taking your hands.

"Can I ask you something? There's no pressure for you to say yes or to give an answer now, even, but there's something on my mind, and I have to ask you before I feel like I'm going insane," Tony tells you with a breathy laugh, casting his eyes up as he takes in a deep breath.

Your heart starts beating faster, and the butterflies in your stomach go crazy as you look up and into beautiful, deep, dark brown eyes.

"From the moment I met you, I knew you were the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. You make me feel normal in a world where I never used to fit in, and you bring a smile to my face without even having to do anything. And because of that, I want to ask you something significant."

With that, he lets one of your hands go in favor of placing it on your waist and pulling you close to his body, ready to seal the deal.

"Y/N Y/L/N, will you do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend?" he asks, and you answer him with a breathy yes, your arms flinging around his neck and shoulders as you pull him close to you. His facial hair scratches nicely against your neck, and that's when you get the sudden urge to kiss him.

You pull back just enough to face him, leaning in to capture his lips with yours. His lips are soft and gentle as he kisses you gently, his hand touching your cheek as he deepens the kiss. Even though he isn't your first kiss, this is by far the most memorable one, and it feels like it goes on forever.

His tongue against yours feels like velvet, and you two can't stop exploring each other's mouths as time goes on until the need for air becomes more prominent than the need for each other. This time, it's his turn to pull away, and you look at him as the realization sinks in. You're officially the girlfriend of Prince Tony Stark, and it feels damn good to be in this position.

The past few years have been fantastic as you have been by Tony's side as his girlfriend and learning everything there is to know about taking over the throne together with Tony. At first, you still worked at the bakery, but once you talked with your parents about being by Tony's side instead of taking over the bakery, you moved into the palace for good.

It has been quite a change for them, but they have always supported you. After officially meeting Howard and Maria, they were sold on the idea. Now that a few years have passed, Tony has been working on preparing a beautiful yet straightforward proposal because he wants to give you everything you want and more, but he also wants to keep it small.

And that's how you find yourself on a beach in Hawaï with the love of your life, sipping on a cocktail in the sun. Here, no one knows he's a prince, and it is a nice change of pace for once. The ring Tony has chosen is handmade by the best jewelry maker money can buy. It is a stunning silver band with a single diamond in it. Simple but perfect for you.

"Gorgeous?" Tony suddenly asks as you're in the middle of reading a romance novel. Your attention is pulled away as his voice calls out for you, and you look up at him with a small smile.

"I had something very fancy planned for tonight after dinner, but I have ultimately decided that I want to keep this very small and intimate, so here I go," Tony starts as he gets up from his chair, the ring clutched in his hand.

"I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. Over the past few years, you have shown me what true love is like, and I am grateful every single day that you have walked into my life because it wouldn't be the same without you here today," he tells you as he goes down on one knee, and you quickly discard your book without a second thought.

"Y/N Y/L/N, will you make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?" he asks, and you give him a loud and enthusiastic 'YES!' before swinging your body forward and pulling him into a hug. The two of you fall over together and laugh loudly as you let everything sink in that just happened. He proposed to you, and it's all you could have asked for.

"I love you so much, my Angel; of course, I will marry you," you say as you kiss him passionately, officially sealing the deal before moving away to allow him to put the ring on your finger. From that moment on, you're officially getting ready to become Y/N Stark-Y/L/N, and you can't wait for that day to arrive.

The rest of the vacation is spent enjoying each other's company and discussing what life will be like as an engaged couple.

"We have to tell our parents as soon as we're home. They deserve to be the first ones to know. And after that, I don't care who knows because I want to shout from the rooftops that I'm going to be your wife," you tell Tony as you're cuddled in bed together on the last night in Hawaï.

"I want that too, Gorgeous, more than you know," he whispers before kissing your head. And with that, you fall into a deep sleep, the ring on your finger and your hand on your future husband's chest. Right now, life couldn't possibly be more perfect.

Not even six months have passed since Tony proposed to you, but tomorrow is officially the big day. You will become Mrs. Tony Stark and marry the man you fell in love with after an accidental meeting when you got lost. It is safe to say he saved you that day and has never let you go since.

Now, you're gearing up for your last day as an engaged woman and the last night away from your husband-to-be. As per tradition, the bride and groom sleep apart on the last day before their wedding, and now it's time for the two of you to say goodbye because you won't see each other again until you're at the altar.

"I can't believe the day is almost here, Gorgeous. I'm marrying the woman I love, and I feel so lucky to have you by my side. Going through all this with someone as amazing as you feel like an absolute godsend," Tony whispers, his forehead touching yours. Tears stream down your face as he tells you that, and your eyes are shut to take in the moment.

"I can't believe it either. But the moment you and I met happened for a reason, and that's exactly why I'm so happy to be here with you today. You have turned my life upside down, but I'm glad you did, Tony. I know my life wouldn't have been half as fun without you. And to call you my husband tomorrow is the cherry on top," you tell him, and he agrees.

"And tomorrow, I finally get to see you naked for the first time," he whispers, making you laugh in response.

"And tomorrow, we finally get to see each other naked," you whisper back. You two have both been raised with the belief of waiting until marriage to have sex, which will make your wedding night even more special. Tomorrow, your life together will officially start, and you're celebrating it by giving your virginity to each other.

"I should go, Tony. I love you so much, and I will see you at the altar," you say before locking your lips with his for the last time until tomorrow. The kiss is bittersweet as it is goodbye for now, but the wait will be worth it. The two of you stay together for as long as possible, but when you officially have to go, you say your last goodbye before heading to your room.

Since you two started dating, you have barely been apart, so it is always challenging to be away from him, but it's almost unbearable on this night. You only want to crawl into your huge bed and under the sheets, ready to warm your cold feet on your fiancé's legs. His arms envelop you in a comfortable hug as you feel his facial hair scratch your face gently with the kisses he places.

All of that would have to wait for one night. Rationally speaking, you know you'll be fine, but it is still a little challenging to be away from him. However, as soon as you step into the room, that is all forgotten, as an entire team of women is on you.

They're taking last-minute measurements to ensure the gown is perfectly tailored. The last things are discussed for tomorrow, and Tony is going through the same thing in his room. Once it is all done and the dress and the suit are perfect, you're left alone, and it is time to sleep.

The next day arrives way sooner than you thought it would, and you feel well-rested as you sit up in bed, looking at the dress on your closet door. The white lace is made from the finest materials and perfectly suits your body, and you can't wait to show Tony what it looks like.

Breakfast is waiting for you, and you dive in immediately, needing to be well-fed to have the energy to go through today. Royal weddings are always a spectacle; yours won't be any different. However, the fact that you will see your parents again on this celebratory day makes it all worth it, because they have always dreamt of seeing you get married one day.

You hear a few knocks on the door before it swings open, and the entire team of women in your room yesterday is back again, ready to make you look perfect for your wedding day.

"Are you ready to be transformed for your special day, Ms. Y/L/N?" one of the ladies, Olivia, asks you. She's the one who made the last-minute additions to your dress and is seemingly the group's leader. She's very kind and tells you everything that will happen today as you're seated in the chair.

"First, we will do your hair and make-up, after which you will put on your dress and shoes. When you're fully ready, Anthony has requested a private first look with you, so that has been scheduled first. After that, it is time for the official ceremony and the party afterward. How does that sound?"

"Perfect," you tell her, and everything is set. It takes a few hours to get you completely ready from head to toe, but your breath is taken away when you look in the life-size mirror against the wall. You barely recognize yourself, but simultaneously, you look beautiful and exactly how a royal bride should look.

"Now, we will escort you to a different room where Anthony is already waiting for you so you two can have your private first look," Olivia says. You nod before letting her guide you to the room where Tony is. Before you knock on the door, she wishes you good luck, and now it's time to see your husband-to-be again.

You knock on the door, and as soon as you hear his 'Come in!' the butterflies in your stomach go wild. The door opens slowly, and you see Tony standing in the middle of the room, with his back to you, so that the surprise won't be ruined yet.

"Hi," you say as you walk into the room, and Tony immediately gets a huge smile, though you can't see it.

"Hi, Gorgeous. How're you feeling?"

"Better now that I'm seeing you again. Your suit looks beautiful," you tell Tony as you look at the black fabric of his suit, every inch of it tailored to the Gods around his broad physique.

"Can I turn around? I am dying to see how beautiful you look in your dress, as well," he says impatiently, and you can't help but laugh at his impatience.

"Yes, Angel, you can turn around," you tell him, and as soon as he does, his mouth falls open. You can also see tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as he drinks in every inch of you, from your hair to your face and the white lace to the smooth silk adorning your body. He has never seen you be more beautiful, and he can look at you like this for the rest of his life.

"Wow..." he whispers before stepping towards you, your hands immediately grabbing his when he's close enough.

"I'm the luckiest man on earth today," he says before kissing your lips softly and ensuring your make-up doesn't smudge.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you ask him, "Are you ready to get married?" He nods, and after one last kiss, you leave again. It's finally time to marry the man you love. Everything goes by in a blur, and before you know it, you're standing before your soon-to-be husband, Tony.

"Ready?" he asks you. "Ready," you tell him.

"Dearly beloved and honored guests, we are gathered here today to join Anthony Edward Stark and Y/N Y/L/N as they unite to become one. This contract is not to be entered into lightly but thoughtfully and seriously, with a deep realization of its obligations and responsibilities. Please remember that love, loyalty, and understanding are the foundations of a happy and enduring home," the officiant says, and you nod along in response, unable to take your eyes off Tony for even a second.

"Do you, Anthony, take this woman, Y/N, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and health, in good times and bad, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself unto him for as long as you shall live?''

"I do," Tony says, and the butterflies in your stomach are doing constant somersaults as the words slip out of his mouth, followed by a large smile.

"Do you, Y/N, take this man, Anthony, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and health, in good times and bad, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself unto him for as long as you shall live?''

"I do," you say with confidence. A smile tugs on the corners of your lips as you look up at Tony, knowing it won't take long for you two to be officially declared husband and wife. The moment you've been looking forward to for months is here, and it cannot happen soon enough for your liking.

After a short vow exchange followed by the exchange of the rings, it is time to seal your marriage for the rest of your lives.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride," the officiant says before stepping to the side, and Tony doesn't hesitate for a second as he closes the gap between you, his lips feeling perfect on yours. Your first kiss as husband and wife is soft and unrushed, making it the most amazing one you've ever shared.

"I now present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Anthony Stark!" the officiant says, and Tony grabs your hand in his as he walks you down the aisle again, ready to celebrate your union and the beginning of the rest of your lives together.

"I love you, Gorgeous," Tony says before carefully grabbing hold of your waist and dipping you back at the end of the aisle before his lips descend on yours again, and the reaction from everyone in the room is overwhelming. The happiness is palpable, and you're feeling happier than ever now that you're officially married to the man you love.

The party thrown in your honor after the ceremony was impressive, and you shed your fair share of tears during the night. From the speeches to the father-daughter dance, not a single moment will be forgotten, and you're thankful to have shared it with your closest family and friends.

But now, it's time for your first night as husband and wife. It will be your first time for each of you, and it is soothing to know that you go into it without expectations and with the same level of experience. You can get to know each other's bodies and find out precisely what the other likes at a slow pace, which eases your nerves tremendously.

"Let's get out of these clothes, Gorgeous. I've been fantasizing about what you're hiding underneath all these clothes, and I'm dying to have my first taste of you," he whispers in your ear, with goosebumps erupting on your neck. His hands glide from your shoulders to the zipper on the back of your dress, pulling it down slowly.

When it's fully opened, the fabric slides down your body, and you're left in your heels and the delicate white lingerie you wore underneath it. Tony's breath hitches as more of your skin is revealed, and he can't stop looking at the perfect globes of your butt.

"You're perfect," Tony growls as his hands wander, touching every inch of your body he can reach as you lean back in his touch. Your back is plastered against his chest as his hands glide from your hips and stomach over the soft cups of your bra, your nipples instantly hardening at the feeling of him.

Your breathing slowly intensifies as he takes his time gently playing with your nipples through the cups of your bra, kneading and tugging on them to give you the perfect amount of stimulation. Your panties are ruined as you keep getting more and more aroused.

"That's it; you're doing so well for me right now," Tony says as he lets one of his hands glide down over your stomach and to the front of your panties.

"Hmm, so wet for me already, Babydoll," he says, and you nod, spreading your legs a bit as he slips his fingers underneath the elastic of your panties, his fingers gliding through the warmth and wetness between your thighs.

"Fuck, you're drenched," and with those words, he pulls his fingers back before putting them into his mouth and moaning at the taste of you. After just that one small taste, he knows he's hooked, and he can't wait to get to taste your sweetness straight from the source.

"Lay down on the bed for me, Gorgeous," Tony gently orders, and you do as you watch him strip down to nothing but his underwear, which is when you can see a clear outline of his hardening cock. He's about half hard, but it's already impressive, and you're starting to wonder if it'll fit inside you. Tony can read it on your face, and he is quick to soothe you.

"Don't worry, Gorgeous, we can take it slow. It's okay if we don't go all the way tonight, and if we do, I will make sure I will do anything in my power to make sure you're comfortable and not in any pain," Tony says between the kisses he places from your ankle to your thigh and the edge of your panties.

"But first, we have to take these off you." It's all the warning you get before he rips the panties off your body with a force that has you gushing right away from how much it turns you on, and Tony is looking at your pussy as if he's looking at the Eighth Wonder.

"You have a beautiful, perfect pussy, Gorgeous. Dripping wet and so tight, I bet it'll taste and feel amazing," Tony says, and you nod as you sit up on your elbows, wondering what he's doing.

"Lay back, Babydoll; right now is all about you, and I want you to think about nothing but me," he says before diving into your pussy headfirst. If you didn't know better, you would think he had done this countless times before because, with every movement of his tongue, you can feel your orgasm building inside you.

Your moans become uncontrollable the closer you get. When Tony moves to pay every bit of attention to your clit, he has to hold your legs open with his arms as you keep rutting up against him and trying to close them from the overwhelming amount of pleasure.

"That's it, Babydoll, doing so well for me!" he tells you as you're on the edge, and the second he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks you fall apart, writhing in his hold as he works you through your first orgasm. Your entire body is trembling as Tony lets you go, but it is one of the best feelings you've ever experienced.

"You taste even better from the source, you know that?" Tony says as he crawls over you before kissing you deeply, the arousal on his tongue now coating yours, too. It is hotter than you ever thought, and you enjoy every second.

"How're you feeling so far, Gorgeous?" Tony asks as he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear.

"Good," you tell him with a dopey smile, and he can't help but fall in love with you even more now. This was only your first orgasm, and he is planning on pulling at least one or two more out of you tonight.

"I'm glad about that. But before we move on to the next part, I want to tell you that you can stop me anytime, okay? If anything doesn't feel right, we can stop and readjust or stop altogether, okay? Nothing is more important to me than your comfort, so I want you to tell me if anything is off, okay?" he asks, and you nod.

"I will, Tony. But... May I touch you first? There?" you ask as you point to his now fully hard cock, and he nods in response before moving to take off his boxer briefs.

"Of course, Babydoll," he says, and soon the fabric is on the floor, and Tony is fully naked, too. You swallow thickly as you look at his size, which you estimate to be around 10 inches long, if not more. It's looking like an absolute monster cock, and your mouth is watering at the sight, but at the same time, you're very worried it won't fit inside you.

First, you bring your hand to him, wrapping it around gently before starting with gentle strokes up and down, earning yourself some groans as you repeat the same motions. Precum starts to leak from the tip, and you're getting more confidence as you go on. Tony is almost at the point of orgasm when he suddenly stops you.

"That's it for now, Babydoll; if you keep going, I'll cum already, and I was hoping I could save that for when I'm buried deep inside that delicious pussy of yours," Tony says before grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you in for a deep kiss.

"Let's get you comfortable by taking off this bra," Tony says as he unclasps it before throwing it away, revealing your beautiful breasts to him. His hands immediately start to knead them, and his mouth descends onto one of them, sucking and licking it as your hips buck up to gain some friction too.

He keeps this up for both of them until he's finally moving up your body, his cock lying between your thighs as he looks into your eyes.

"Remember what I said, Gorgeous. You can stop me whenever you want," he tells you again, and you nod. With that, Tony grabs hold of his cock before letting the tip slide through your folds, your body jolting each time it rubs over your sensitive clit.

"I love it when you're so responsive for me," he tells you with a big smile, and you smile back up at him. After teasing you for a few minutes, he finally lines his cock up with your entrance, just leaving it there for a moment before pushing in.

"How're you feeling now? Do you still want to continue?" he asks, and you look deep into his eyes.

"Yes, Tony, I want to continue. Make me yours, please," you beg softly, and he shushes you with a kiss. His eyes are constantly trained on your face as he slides in the tip carefully, a moan already leaving your lips at the feeling of it.

"Oh, fuck! You're so tight for me, Babydoll, such a tight, warm pussy for me to slide into," Tony breathes into your ear as he slowly slides more and more of his cock in, pulling back before thrusting in just a little more each time. With constant time to adjust and gentle thrusts, he is slid in completely, and you're both moaning and groaning messes at this point.

"Oh my, fuck! You're perfect for me, Babydoll, nothing but perfect," he groans as he starts thrusting, building up the pace slightly. After a few minutes, he carefully adjusts his position, and with this, he has you seeing stars and moaning even louder, your sweet spot being hit with every stroke.

"D-Daddy! Harder!" you beg him, and that's when Tony stops for a short moment. His cock twitches in your heat as the word keeps swirling through his mind. A deep red blush appears on his cheeks, and for a moment, he's a little unsure if he likes it, but that doesn't take long.

"Say that again, Babydoll, call me Daddy again," he begs of you this time, and you comply immediately.

"Please, Daddy! Fuck me harder," you ask him as you're getting impatient, and that's precisely what he does. He keeps building up the rhythm carefully, but eventually, he is fucking you with so much force the mattress creaks loudly and the bed bangs against the wall, but neither of you cares for even a second.

"That's it! Such a good girl for Daddy; you gonna let me cum in this pussy of yours? Huh? You're gonna let Daddy fuck a baby into you? That's what you want, isn't it, me fucking a baby into you so you're beautiful and pregnant, carrying the baby that Daddy fucked into you," he growls at the end, and all you can let out are a string of broken moans.

"M so close, Babydoll, so close and I'll fuck a baby into you, Daddy'll give you exactly what you want," is all he says before you're both falling over the edge, and Tony can feel you clenching down onto him as he spills his cum inside of you, releasing every drop of it deep inside you until there's nothing left.

Tony quickly rolls off you and to the side so he won't crush you before pulling you against his chest to ensure you can both come down from your highs comfortably. The silence in the room is more than welcome as you're both catching your breaths and enjoying the moment.

That night officially marked the beginning of your lives as a married couple. Three months later, you and Tony have officially been crowned the new King and Queen, while Howard and Maria are enjoying their well-earned retirement.

It only took nine months after your coronation for you to become pregnant with your beautiful baby boy, the heir to the throne. And his name? Anthony Edward Stark Junior. He is a carbon copy of his Dad and the sweetest boy you have ever met. When people say they don't believe in love at first sight, it is clear they have never looked into the eyes of their own baby because when you do that, you instantly know it's true.

There is such a thing as love at first sight, which brought you to this moment. Your amazing husband and beautiful son are creating a wonderful family with you, and in this formation, you know you will be able to rule the Kingdom effortlessly, and you can't wait to give the crown to him.

But for now, Little Anthony can stay as small as he can be for as long as possible. He has all the time in the world to grow up, and you only have a short time to enjoy him as a baby. And that's precisely what you plan on doing with your fantastic husband, King Anthony Stark.

#marvelsmashbingo #tony stark #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark fanfic #tony stark one shot #tony stark request #tony stark imagine #tony stark x female reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark fluff #tony stark smut

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bruhstories · 2 years

Text

perfectly imperfect

summary: otto hightower gathers more allies in support of his nephew after the destruction of the dragonpit. y/n reyne, lady of castamere, offers her hand in marriage to aemond targaryen to secure the safety of her land and people.

pairing: aemond targaryen x reyne!fem!reader (aged up)

warnings & content: canon-divergent, graphic descriptions of violence, aegon makes fun of disabilities, aegon is a dick to women, typical asoiaf shenanigans, unprotected sex, p in v, loss of virginity, fem bodied reader

wc: ~3.7k

a/n: listen, i did not plan on simping for aemond, okay? i was actually planning a daemon fic but i got carried away. also, there are NO spoilers for episode 10. i know it got leaked, i haven't watched it yet.

It seemed as if Aegon had won a trophy in Helaena when compared to Aemond's betrothed. He had complained about his sister-wife when he was a child, complained that she wasn't beautiful enough, that she was strange, with her fascination for insects, particularly spiders. Aegon could not fathom why his wife was drawn to such peculiar practices, but part of him was grateful he ended up marrying Helaena and not Y/N Reyne.

Aemond, on the other hand, made no verbal complaints about his soon-to-be wife. He had always obeyed his mother's rules, and he knew his marriage to the Lady of Castamere was nothing but political — an alliance with a powerful and rich family would only benefit in supporting Aegon's claim to the throne. All he had to do was put an heir in Y/N and secure his Targaryen lineage. He didn't have to love her, but he would respect her.

After the destruction of the Dragon Pit, Otto knew he had to act swiftly, asking lords and ladies all around Westeros for their support. It was Y/N Reyne who offered her own hand in marriage in exchange for the protection of her lands and people, and Otto and Alicent agreed. A small price to pay for the riches of Castamere. With her silver and gold, they could fund soldiers for the impending war between the Blacks and the Greens.

Not long after Aegon's coronation, Y/N Reyne travelled to King's Landing for a quick wedding. There was no time for feasts and parties, there was no time for her to get to know her husband — she wanted her people safe, and Otto wanted supporters.

The Lady of Castamere arrived at the Red Keep on horseback with a promised 200 soldiers, chests of gold, silver and rubies. Greeted by the king himself, Y/N bowed down, offering Aegon a dagger encrusted with small rubies on its silver handle.

"It's not Valyrian steel, your grace, but it was made by my finest blacksmiths." She removed the hood of her cloak, exposing a scar that went from her cheek, down her neck, the rest hidden behind her chest plate.

Aegon scrunched his nose at the sight of her scar, but the look of disgust came after she removed her leather gloves, revealing a missing ring finger on her right hand.

"You'll make a fine wife for my brother." The king sneered, and Alicent smiled. Finally, her son was speaking like a true royal. "Seeing as you're both cripples." Aegon laughed, toying with the dagger in his hand, bored and perhaps drunk.

Y/N pursed her lips. It took a lot of willpower not to bark back at him. She had sworn her loyalty to him, after all.

"I see your grace has a sense of humour." The Lady of Castamere smiled, the scar more visible when her cheeks puffed up.

It made Aegon's stomach churn to see a flawed woman. At least Helaena tried to look feminine, dressed in the finest of silks and wearing the most expensive jewellery, like a true queen. Yet Y/N was boyish, wearing metal plates and leather trousers. In the king's mind, she should've been in a carriage, not on a horse. She should've worn a dress, not an armour. She should've let her hair flow, not wear it in a plait.

The silence in the Red Keep was deafening, until Alicent offered to take Y/N to her chambers and Otto ordered Ser Criston Cole to take the westerlands soldiers to the East Barracks. The Lady of Castamere was taken aback when Alicent had asked her about her wedding dress, as Y/N had not brought one.

"I assumed it would be a quick wedding." She shrugged.

"I understand, but the king would not like it if you came to your own wedding wearing... that." Alicent sighed, exhausted by Aegon's shenanigans. "Come, we'll find something in Helaena's chambers."

All of the queen's dresses were beautiful, most of them silver or gold, but they did not fit Y/N. Her frame was quite athletic, as the scar on her skin was won in battle, and she was much taller, making the dresses look like they were tossed on a fence, not worn by a woman.

"My lady, I am truly sorry-"

"No, it's fine." Alicent chewed on her lower lip, an idea creeping in her mind. Y/N could wear one of Rhaenyra's old dresses, preferably one that wasn't black. In a bitter twist of fate, Rhaenyra's clothes did fit Y/N, and it only made Alicent more conflicted about her friendship, about everything that was happening.

It was overwhelming to see her son's future wife wearing her best friend's clothes. In the dusty golden dress and her hair in a braid, Y/N reminded Alicent of the day she had asked Rhaenyra about her and Daemon, a day that changed the course of everyone's lives. Who knew back then that their friendship would turn into animosity?

"My lady? Is something the matter?" Y/N took Alicent's hand in hers.

"No. No, you look perfect. Please, I have one last request." She smiled, but there was so much sadness hidden behind that smile.

"Of course."

"Untie your hair. Let it flow down your back. Just for tonight. After your wedding you may do with it as you please."

It was a strange request, but Y/N did not dare question it. She untied the bow holding her hair in place, running her fingers through her locks. Satisfied, Alicent hurried her out of Rhaenyra's chamber and into the Throne Room, where the king, the queen, the Hand, the High Septon, and Aemond waited.

That was the first time Y/N met her soon-to-be husband, the patch on his eye making him look both mysterious and menacing. She then understood what Aegon meant by cripple. Y/N bowed in front of the king and queen, taking her place to Aemond's right side. The younger Targaryen showed no emotion whatsoever at her presence, instead took her hands in his, listening to the Septon's prayers.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love, and take you for my lord and husband." Y/N uttered her vows, noticing the disinterested look on Aegon's face.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love, and take you for my lady and wife." Aemond did not hesitate snaking his fingers behind Y/N's ear, pulling her into a soft kiss, interrupted only by the king's own drunken chuckles, mixed with hiccups.

"You are now man and wife — one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever." The High Septon concluded, followed by dead silence.

Everyone knew what would happen next — consummation. Y/N was clever enough to know that she had to give Aemond an heir, but part of her hoped she would not be with child. She wanted to fight by her husband's side, not stay in the Red Keep or Castamere and raise children. Nevertheless, she was urged by Otto to follow Aemond in his chamber, and she reluctantly did.

To her surprise, her husband gently held her hand on the way up the stairs, and while she has been in battles, lost a finger, and had her face mutilated, the thought of losing her maidenhead made her feel sick. Before her mother died, she had prepared Y/N for the consummation of her marriage — how to seduce her husband, how to please him, what to say, where to touch him. It all seemed easy in theory, but putting it in practice was much, much harder.

There was a lump in her throat that she couldn't swallow, and although she felt cold, beads of sweat began to form on her forehead. Y/N thought she knew fear, but nothing compared to this. It did not help that Aemond did not utter a single word after speaking his vows, and perhaps it was for the best. There was nothing he could say that would make her feel less anxious. When he began to remove his cloak and unbutton his doublet, Y/N froze.

"Wait." She finally spoke, and Aemond did wait. He wasn't necessarily impatient to consummate his marriage, unlike his brother who would fuck anything that had two legs and a pretty face. "Before we proceed, I have to say this."

"Go on." Aemond neatly folded his cloak, placing it on a wooden chair, the half-unbuttoned doublet exposing his chest.

"I'm a fighter, not a mother. I will gladly give you an heir, if that is what you desire, but I want to fight side by side with you, my lord husband." Y/N hurried to where he stood, stripping herself of her ego by pleading with him.

"Why?" There was a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. The only other person who shared Aemond's passion for violence was Ser Criston Cole. Not even his brother was seduced by violence, let alone a noblewoman.

"You are a dragon." She replied. "I am a lion. We are not meant to be kept as pets. You, out of everyone, must understand the thrill of the battle, especially when you fight for what you believe in." Y/N spotted the wine on the table and poured herself a cup, only to ease her mind — and her body.

"And what do you believe in, then?" Aemond watched her sloppily drink the wine, the red liquid spilling down her chin, down the crook of her neck, staining the dress of the woman he so much hated.

"Violence." The Lady of Castamere slammed the cup on the table, feeling herself a tad more courageous. "Pure, ecstatic violence."

It was quite clear that her mother's seducing techniques would not work on a man like Aemond, and they did not need to work, because Y/N's honesty completely enchanted him. To have someone share his passions was more than he could ask from a wife. Once, he was fascinated by, perhaps enamoured with Helaena, but she was soft, and had he married her and grown to love her, she would've softened him. Y/N, on the other hand, was the spark he needed to ignite the fire flowing in his veins. He was a dragon, after all.

"I do not desire an heir." Aemond admitted. He couldn't see himself a father, partly because his own father seemed to prefer his nephews instead of his sons. The fact that Y/N was not interested in being a mother only solidified his love for battle. "And I do not care if you give me one."

Aemond's words awakened something in Y/N, something she had never felt before. It most certainly wasn't love — she couldn't possibly love a man she had just met. It was something else. Lust.

"So, will you allow me to fight, then?" Her voice went up an octave, excited, like a child receiving a toy.

"Gladly. Tell me," Aemond decided to consummate the marriage by discussing their experiences in battle, "have you killed before?" He poured himself a cup of wine. The young Targaryen wasn't keen on drinking, like his brother, but he enjoyed the occasional cup of Arbor Red. And he enjoyed drinking it over talks of spilled blood.

Y/N nodded, taking a seat at the table, finally feeling relaxed.

"Once." She watched her husband sit on the chair next to her, urging her to tell him how and when, and to not shy away from details. Y/N explained that it truly was an accident. Or, better it started as an accident. "Because father never let me fight, I used to dress like a boy and play with wooden swords. But because I was also a spoiled child, I couldn't fathom losing." She sighed, and Aemond was beginning to pick up on where her story was going.

"You don't seem like a spoiled child." Her husband watched her unwind, taking her shoes off and kicking them away.

"I suppose I never wanted to be one, but I liked the perks that came with it. That day, I was playing with the stable boys, and one of them beat the life out of me. I didn't mind the physical pain, but I felt humiliated." Y/N scoffed. "When I attacked him, he removed the hood from my head and instantly recognised me. I was fortunate enough that the other boys left, but out of fear of father finding out what I was doing, I pushed him so hard he fell and hit his head in the stone wall."

"But it was accidental." Aemond mimicked his wife by taking his boots off. He felt strangely comfortable around Y/N, discussing issues he could never talk about with his family.

"Indeed." She agreed. "But I was afraid he would heal and tell the maesters who did that to him. When I caught a glimpse of a dagger, I picked it up, straddled the boy and stabbed him."

"How many times?" His voice was dangerously low, and although Aemond was leaned back in the chair, his fingernails dug into the wood of the armrests, excited to hear more.

"Enough for him to never recover. There was so much blood." Y/N gingerly touched her face, as if she could still feel the hot crimson liquid trickling down her chin. "Warm blood — on my hands, my clothes, my face. I should've felt guilty, but I didn't." There was no hint of remorse in her voice, and her eyes darted to Aemond's lap. It did not surprise her that he was aroused by her story, the bulge in his leather trousers growing more noticeable every time she spoke about blood.

"Then what happened?"

"I left him there, ran back to the castle, burned the clothes and went to bed." Y/N laughed, not at the poor boy's death, but at how selfish she had been. "I was young and stupid."

"You talk as if you're an old hag." The corners of Aemond's lips turned into a smirk.

"It happened a decade ago."

"Tell me, then, if you had your current wisdom, what would you have done?" He leaned forward, studying his wife.

"I would do it all again." Y/N smiled, the wine taking over her brain. She played into her husband's game by imitating him and leaning closer to his face. "I would perhaps get rid of the body this time." Y/N whispered into Aemond's ear.

He had heard enough — enough to desire her in bed. It could've been the wine, it could've been that he hasn't laid with a woman in a long time, but Aemond grabbed Y/N by the back of her neck, pressing his lips onto hers. She allowed him to slide his tongue between her wine-stained lips, and even dared to pull him closer.

Her fears? Gone.

Her morals? Gone.

Her last shred of dignity? Gone.

Aemond pulled away, earning a soft sigh from his wife, only to pull her up from the chair and push her onto the table, the cups clattering onto the floor.

"You..." He whispered, struggling to pull her dress up. "You were made to be mine." Aemond resorted to tearing the dress apart. He didn't like it, anyway, and he knew it brought sorrow to his mother.

Y/N melted under his touch like steel in dragonfire. She hastily pulled his green shirt over his head, taking a moment to appreciate his looks. It tickled Aemond's ego. He did not give two shits on people's opinion of him, but seeing the lust in her eyes only fuelled his inner fire.

"I-" She pressed her palms against his chest. "I am a maiden." Y/N told him, as if he expected her not to be one.

"I can't promise to be gentle." Aemond kissed her again. "But I can promise you will enjoy it."

That was a foreign concept to her. All the stories she heard from her mother were about pain, and how it was a woman's duty to bed her husband and not take pleasure from it. Only whores enjoy it, her mother would say. A whore she would be, then.

Once both of them were stripped of their clothes and morals, Y/N squeezed her thighs together, partly because she wanted to tease her husband. And Aemond was too far gone to respect his wife. His elbow pushed between her thighs, opening her legs while his hands dug into her hips, pulling her closer to him, like a starving dog.

"It will hurt." Was his attempt to comfort her.

"I know." Y/N nodded, her fingernails digging into his upper arms, bracing for pain. "I'm ready."

With her consent out of the way, Aemond slowly slid the tip of his cock between her already slick folds, stopping when he saw the discomfort on her face.

"Relax." He demanded, but it came from a good place. Being more experienced, Aemond wanted everything but to hurt her. When she nodded again, he pushed further, only to hear his wife scream in agony. "Bite into my shoulder. I don't suppose you want to wake everyone up."

Reluctantly, Y/N obeyed the order, her teeth sinking into his skin, and when he bottomed out, she arched her back in pain, wriggling and writhing under him. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes, despite Aemond stopping every movement to allow her to adjust to his size. What was worse was gone, and Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders, clinging to him as if her life depended on it.

"By the gods, it hurts so much!" She cried out, gasping when she saw the mark she left on his skin.

"I know. But it will not get any worse than this." Aemond assured her. "Do you trust me?"

"I do." Y/N sobbed, but he was right. The pain slowly dissipated, and her muscles relaxed, no longer feeling on edge. It still hurt, yes, but it did not compare to the sheer pain she had felt moments ago.

When Aemond began rolling his hips, something awakened in the Lady of Castamere. The slight discomfort was still present, but it was quickly replaced by an unknown feeling which Y/N realised was something primal and instinctive — pleasure. Not even the thrills of fighting could compare to the pleasure she felt when Aemond thrusted harder and harder into her sloppy cunt.

"Fuck, you're so tight." He practically growled, surprising himself with his own words. Aemond wasn't the type of man to talk during these intimate moments, and while he enjoyed the occasional visits to brothels with Aegon, his wife was superior to all the whores he'd ever fucked.

Even her gestures were drawing him to her — the way Y/N rolled her eyes back, how she gasped, how she scratched his skin, leaving her mark on his body. Sure, Aegon might be disgusted by her scar and missing finger, but to Aemond, she was perfectly imperfect.

"So g-good!" Her thoughts were fuzzy, her words barely coherent. All Y/N could do was take him all in and revel in the bliss Aemond offered her.

But he wanted more, and when he pulled out, she complained. It bewildered her how much she actually enjoyed herself, to the point she cried out when she couldn't feel his cock stuffing her.

"Turn around." Aemond ordered, but he was already in the process of flipping her over, his hand pressing her face on the table.

Instinctively, Y/N lifted her ass up, like a bitch in heat, her fingernails leaving scratches on the wood.

"Please, put it in." Her cheeks were squished on the hard surface, body hot to the touch. There was no more room for decency and grace when all she wanted was for her husband to fuck her stupid.

"Already worshipping my cock, eh?" His lips pressed a kiss on her shoulder before he released the grip on her neck to lift her leg on the table. But he delivered, and he pushed his cock into her yearning cunt, a string of moans escaping her lips.

Y/N arched her back, not believing it would be possible for her to feel better than before. Oh, how wrong her mother was. She could feel him deeper, and he was anything but gentle and respectful.

The more he thrusted, the more she bucked her hips, using her trembling arms for support. Aemond's chambers echoed with her moans and his grunts, with the sound of skin on skin, and the disgusting wet noises that filled the Street of Silk.

And then it happened — Aemond's pace quickened, his fingers bruising her hips, and Y/N could feel her climax boiling into her core, awaiting release. Her spongy walls clenched around his cock, her head felt lighter and her chest heavier.

"Gods, Aemond, I can't-" She fell flat on the table, the filthiest guttural sounds emanating from her.

"Fuck." He could feel himself closer to his own climax, but he swiftly pulled his cock out, spilling his seed onto her lower back.

The warm liquid made Y/N prop herself on her elbows, curious as to why he did not finish inside of her.

"No heirs tonight." Aemond said, as if hearing her thoughts. "You're not a cow for breeding, you are my wife."

"I could've taken the tea." She spotted a piece of fabric from her wedding dress and took it, attempting to clean herself.

"You could've, but then everyone would find out." He snatched the fabric from her hand and wiped her skin clean. "And what would my grandfather think, then? That you're not a woman of your word, or worse, that you're plotting against the king."

Aemond was right. The maester would surely let the Hand know, and then she would either be imprisoned or killed.

"Very well. No heirs tonight." Y/N took the soiled fabric, tossing it into the fireplace.

Aemond brought Y/N one of his robes, draping it around her shoulders, his hand resting on the small of her back. Strangely, he felt the urge to hold her close to him, this woman he met and wed on the same day. He felt the need to protect her, despite knowing very well she did not need his protection.

But the only people he ever showed affection were his mother, and occasionally his sister. He did not know how to be a husband. But to show his wife that he trusted her, Aemond quietly took his eye patch off, revealing a sapphire gem in place of his missing eye.

"Disfigured." He uttered, watching his own reflection in the mirror next to the fireplace.

"No, perfect." She smiled, tilting her head so that he could better see her scar. Aemond brought his index finger to her cheek, tracing the scar down her neck, down her collarbone, in-between her breasts.

"One flesh, one heart, one soul." He repeated the Septon's words, and they began to make more sense.

"Now and forever."

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #asoif/got #asoiaf

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whaddayadothatfor · 1 year

Text

An Overwhelming Hunger

“You’ve had a stressful day, my love. What can I do for you?”

“I am hungry,” Namor replied, staring at you through his brow. “But not for food.”

—————————

Pairing: Reader x Namor

Summary: BP:WF complete AU (T’Challa isn’t dead and Namor didn’t kill the Queen) Namor has decided to attend peace talks with Wakanda to avoid war with the powerful nation. However, when frustrations towards his diplomatic mission grow, you decide to help him destress in the best way you know how. Namor, however, has other plans.

Warnings, content: fluff, smut, bondage, overstim, committed relationship, unedited

AN: Hey y’all! Just trying to get into the flow of things and see what works and what doesn’t. I hope y’all like it.

————————————————————————-

You had been here for hours. A pillow tucked underneath the small of your back, your hands tied to one of the posts on your headboard, and your panties stuffed in your mouth. The sheets underneath you were warm to the touch and soaked with your sweat. Your hair tussled from writhing against the sheets and makeup smudged from the tears streaming down your face, and you were sure you looked a mess. But you knew Namor only the saw your state of undress as the result of his handiwork.

You knew this because he had told you as much when you expressed discontent at how ridiculous you must’ve looked earlier. He reassured you that you were the most lovely woman in his Kingdom and any other. He made it clear that he wouldn’t stand to be challenged on his opinion by anyone, including you. Then he shoved your panties in your mouth and went back to working on your third orgasm on the night. That was two orgasms ago. You struggled to remember how you ended up in this predicament in the first place.

Four hours ago

It all started because of politics. The root of all evil, in your opinion. Namor, in an effort to sustain peace and maintain security for his people, decided to meet with the royals of Wakanda to work on an alliance while you stayed home to guide and protect the Talokans in his stead. He did not expect that building an alliance would keep him away from you for days at a time. The Wakandan elders had been particularly headstrong and full of opinions, which slowed progress from time to time.

Namor, communicating through the advanced technology Shuri lent him that allowed him to video call you even miles under the sea, lamented at just how slow the progress was. He simply wasn’t used to being so far away from his people, from you. Not for so long. Unaccustomed to seeing your husband so stressed, you decided to spoil him when he returned. After all, the distance between you hadn’t only been hard on him. You missed your husband, in more ways than one.

You didn’t have to wait long to set your plan into action. Namor had sent word that there would be a seven day recess, so he’d be home by evening. You took the time to doll yourself up and wear the night gown he likes the most. It’s blue and adorned with Jade, a testament to how he loves to spoil you. You cover yourself with a long, flowy robe, the same blue color as your night gown, and tie the robe together with the matching belt with a neat little bow. Like a present to unwrap on Christmas morning.

While you wait for your lover to return home, you also prepare one of Namor’s favorite dishes to eat. It’s a simple dish — fish and rice, but you prepare it in the way his mother did and it reminds him of her. Namor strolls into the room, shoulders tense and his eyes tinged with annoyance. His eyes light up into appreciation at the sight of you.

He trails his eyes down your body, coming back up to stop at the necklace that rests just in between your breasts. It’s a small intricate gold and silver necklace that ties into a knot where the two metals meet. He gifted that necklace to you when you got engaged. For many, it’s a symbol of your union. For the two of you, it symbolizes his deep need to possess even the smallest part of you and to have others acknowledge that you belong to him. That your fate is tied to his for as long as you both live. You shudder at his lingering gaze and try to ignore the tingle that spreads from your core.

Today is not about you, you scold yourself. You should at least feed the man before you jump his bones. You were so busy chastising yourself that you missed the way his gaze darkened, his eyes full of desire and want. You did however notice the tenseness in his shoulders, and the way his mouth was set into a thin straight line.

“You’ve had a stressful day, my love. What can I do for you? I made your favorite in case you’d like to eat.”

“I am hungry,” Namor replied, staring at you through his brow. “But not for food.”

In a flash, he covered the distance between the both of you and covered his mouth with yours. He was an all-consuming force, like a whirpool, and you were a tiny sailboat adrift at sea. You had no way of overpowering him, but you didn’t want to. He picked you up and threw you on the bed. He took the soft satin belt from your robe and tied your hands to the one of the wooden posts of the headboard.

“The only thing I want is for my sweet, pretty wife to come from my tongue as many times as she can stand it. Do you think you can do that?”

Present

Namor moaned into your pussy, only taking a moment to lick up the remnants of the last orgasm you had that had dripped down your thighs. He sat up for a moment and massaged your thighs. You felt delirious.

“You’ve been so good for me, my Queen. Taking each and every thing I’ve offered,” he said. He rubbed his clothed dick all over your slick pussy.

“I bet you could take one more.”

#marvel x reader #black panther #wakanda forever #namor of talokan #mcu namor #namor x reader #namor x black reader #namor x fem!reader #namor x y/n #namor smut

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90shaladriel · 2 months

Text

Queen of Night and Stars

Ficlet inspired by the Rings of Power concept art by Julien Gauthier

He watched her. Standing slightly behind her right shoulder he looked down at her as they stood together on the dais of the lofty hall. Her gold and silver locks tumbled in waves down her back holding the very light of the gods they both rebelled against within each strand. Her white dress tucked beneath the polished black metal cuirass that signaled the mark of a warrior still. She was everything to him.

One by one the supplicants came before them pleading for this cause or to spare them of their hardship. Always they begged her, their lady of light, to deliver them from their afflictions.

And she did, with the unshakable calmness and wisdom of an ancient being now stronger than the foundations of the earth.

A group of townspeople from some backwater village required assistance that their bridge had been washed away in a flood. Galadriel smiled and assured them that her king’s men would be dispatched at once. She didn’t even bother asking anymore to order a detachment of his Orcs or Easterling men to do some errand like this.

Would he ever say no? How could he?

He was so proud of her taking her rightful claim to power, now it fit her, how all of Middle Earth shaped to her will now and adored her. He had played his part in the beginning, it was as he promised. He gave her that spiked silver crown and forced the pretender Gil-galad to surrender his. She of course restrained him in and micromanaged his battles to do the least harm, she had also convinced a greater portion of her people to put down arms and accept the new order.

A couple of humans, a man and wife with a sick baby, begged for something to make their child well. Their eyes full of tears as the woman looked up at Galadriel, the man glanced his way before casting his eyes down. Galadriel soothed the babe’s cries with a gentle hand on its forehead, she whispered in her native tongue a prayer to the Valar and he felt the pull of her on the unseen world drawing on his power to alter the very flesh of the living to make it whole again.

They loved her and they feared him.

It sat well with him. He actually had no desire for fame and glory, his ambitions had always been to order the world in a manner that felt right and good. Healing what he had done in ages past but forging a new order where he could save this land. If everyone thought she was the one saving it felt only natural, it’s what she deserved.

As she gathered her flowing white dress so she could delicately climb the stairs back to the dais at his side he admired her beauty more fully. She noticed of course and her smile turned into a tight frown.

She willingly ruled at his side but always rejected his advances. Ever since their first night of marriage, the solitary time she had given in to his desire and he had taken that opportunity. Years passed and whether it was some absurd custom of the Eldar or perhaps her long standing hatred for what he was, she refused him since. Did she fear giving him an heir? His mind did idle on that thought from time to time, what a new life would mean when that ritual of succession meant little to them since they would live forever. Looking at the healed child whose parents clutched so tightly he wondered if it would feel the same for their own?

How he wished he could bury his hands in her hair, pull her body against his and feel his lips drinking from her fair skin.

She knew this of course. Before the next villager came before them, he felt the tip of her right hand graze just over his left hand’s little finger. He caught the involuntary gasp before it left his mouth, but he saw the corner of her lip turn just so slightly upward, her blue eyes dancing in mirth as in a glade of flowers for those who knew where to look.

His Queen. He would stand by her side until the days ended and there was only night once more. They would be together still. His starlight in the dark.

ao3 link

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54437683

#the rings of power #fanfic #haladriel #saurondriel #sauron #galadriel #trop #She would be his Queen #light and darkness #sauron x galadriel #galadriel x sauron #trop fanfic

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lorcandidlucienwill · 5 months

Text

Jassa wedding!

This takes place AFTER my story where Lucien loses his shit and does something crazy!

Epilogue --> 2 years later Lucien imagined this would be the first time in history Prythian ever hosted a wedding between two humans.

He chuckled at the thought, knowing Tamlin would be proud. He had always been a radical; hosting an all-human wedding seemed like the kind of thing he would do.

He wondered what his people would think of it. That their new High Lord of Spring had two humans for best friends, and that he was going to be the best man at their wedding.

He imagined many people wouldn’t be happy about it. Well, they were just going to have to deal with it.

They weren’t any ordinary humans, anyway. They were now the Queen and Prince-consort of the human lands. Once Vassa obtained her freedom, it didn’t take long for her to kick her fellow queens to the curb. She was a badass like that.

And finally, after two years of Lucien telling the two idiots to just get married already, they’d finally agreed on one condition: Lucien had to host their wedding.

Lucien had planned on doing it anyway, but he pretended to be all hung up over it for a little while.

And now he stood beside his best friend, Jurian, who was waiting for Vassa to come down the aisle. His silver wedding outfit would’ve been very grand if it weren’t for the gigantic eye woven into the middle of the dress robes. Jurian had insisted on it, saying it was destiny that he get married with a gigantic eye on his clothes since he was an eye for 500 years and his best man had lost an eye 50 years ago, both to the same woman. Lucien had shaken his head, but he couldn’t deny it was absolutely hilarious. Lucien had added a little magic to the eye, so all the wedding guests were extremely uncomfortable because the eye moved every once in a while. Lucien had to resist the urge to laugh every time he looked at the eye.

Marigolds and dahlias lined the aisle. Lucien had insisted on no roses, considering how the last wedding went; they were cursed to him now.

“What do you imagine her dress looks like?” Jurian muttered to Lucien from the corner of his eye.

Lucien snorted. “You say that like I don’t already know what it looks like.”

“What? She showed you?”

“No. But I’m not so easily foiled.” Lucien said, winking at Jurian, who scowled. “Fuck off.”

“Who’ll be your best man, then?”

Jurian opened his mouth to reply, then his jaw dropped as he stared at Vassa.

Her off-the-shoulder dress was exquisite; Lucien had made sure of that. Layers upon layer of orange tulle flowed around her, and wings sprouted from the back of the dress. A costume for a firebird. Lucien had made sure to put a tiara in her hair as well so that no one forgot her queen status.

Jurian’s eyes just about popped out of his skull. The scent of his arousal clogged Lucien’s nose. “Dude, calm down. Think of something nasty. Like being an eye for 500 years.”

The arousal instantly dispersed. “Thanks, bro,” he muttered. “Don’t mention it,” Lucien said.

Vassa reached the end of the aisle and took Jurian’s hand. The priestesses began their prayers, and Lucien’s eyes drifted to his mate and wife. Elain beamed at him from the front row. She looked lovely in a simple floral lavender dress. To her right sat Nesta and Eris in matching green robes. To her left sat Feyre and Azriel in Night Court black.

“You look handsome,” Elain mouthed at him. Lucien blushed.

Soon the prayers ended and Jurian and Vassa began their vows.

“Jurian, I knew you were an idiot from the start,” Vassa said. “But your idiocy grew on me. I find it amazing that you were imprisoned by Amarantha for 500 years and you never broke. You’re so strong, and even though you suck at most things, you’re an incredible general and king. Most importantly, in my toughest moments, when I was imprisoned by Koschei, you stuck with me through it all. So, you fucking idiot, I love you.”

Lucien resisted the urge to snort, but Jurian actually had tears in his eyes. To each their own.

“My beautiful Vassa, you flounced into my life after my 500 year imprisonment and absolutely turned my life upside down. I don’t know where I would be without you to humble me at every turn. Even though you were imprisoned by a death god, you never broke, and the moment you got free you kicked your fellow queens to the curb, and it was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. So, my firebird, I love you too.”

Lucien looked away as they kissed, focusing on Elain instead.

Elain blew him a kiss. Lucien grinned like an idiot, but he didn’t care. He never thought he could be this happy. He only wished Tamlin was still here to see it.

Lucien waited for his cue. Vassa tugged on her ear, and Lucien set the edges of her dress on fire. A true firebird. Vassa grinned as the fire set off her fiery hair, tied back in an elegant ponytail. Jurian’s eyes were starstruck as he gazed at her. Lucien smiled.

Soon, it was time for the best man’s speech. Lucien cleared his throat. “When I first met Jurian, it took all of my self-control to not rip out his throat.” Jurian grinned. “I never would’ve expected that soon after that we’d be best friends. It was the worst time of my life. I’d been kicked out of two courts, and I would always be an outsider in the other. I fell in with Jurian and Vassa, who also had no family of their own. And we made our own family. The sexual tension between these two fools was crazy, but they were so stubborn they wouldn’t get married until I agreed to host their wedding. So, here we are. All hail Queen Vassa, and her prince-consort, Jurian!”

The crowd cheered. Lucien’s heart soared.

Everything was starting to settle down now. Prythian was becoming the place it always should’ve been.

Tamlin’s dream would live on.

#pro lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra #elucien #anti inner circle #jassa #fanfic #jurian #vassa #band of exiles #queen vassa

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abbatoirablaze · 8 months

Text

The Girl With Two Dragons, Chapter 5

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: violence/punching, sword play, foreplay, insults, machismo attitudes, taboo relationships, incestuous overtones (unavoidable)

“BOYS! COME! CEASE YOUR TRAINING FOR A MOMENT AND COME HERE!” King Viserys called to his two sons. The boys stopped their training and looked towards the silver haired woman who was standing with their parents. She was easily around their age, and Aemond recognized her immediately from having seen her arriving yesterday.

“Who is that?” Aemond asked curiously, pretending as though he had no idea that Daemhyra had arrived. His brow quirked, sending his patch up slightly, and he huffed, pulling it back over his eye, “Aegon? Do you know what’s going on?”

“Gentle…gentle, husband!” Alicent said quickly to her husband who was trying to wave the boys over. She gave the woman a soft look as Daemhyra rushed to help the king, assisting him in his movements, “sweet child…”

“Careful, uncle! Please, do not hurt yourself in your rush” the woman cooed, giving her elder a soft look. His heart ached as he noticed his cousin, and as she turned towards them. She was beautiful in every sense of the word to him. Her long silvery flowing hair. Every bit of her curves. He longed to be near her as she cooed at his father, “you are not as spry as you once were uncle…please be gentle…”

“Gentle,” the old man scoffed, a chuckle billowing out of his throat as though she said something funny, “are you sure you’re the daughter of my brother, Daemon? I’m sure he doesn’t even have that in his vocabulary!”

Aemond noticed Aegon’s eyes widened as he looked at his brother who then smirked, “if it is who I believe it to be, she really blossomed into a woman in the years it’s been since we’ve seen her…I can see now why you’ve been tamed by her pussy without even having tasted it.”

“You may not be drunk any longer brother, but I still won’t hear you speak those words about her.”

Aegon chuckled to himself, “punch me if you must, Aemond. But seeing her…my words will not cease!”

A stoic, lithe man appeared behind their parents, his own silver hair shining in the sunlight as he talked to someone else in black.

“Come say hello to your cousin, boys. Your Uncle and her have traveled all the way from Dragonstone,” Alicent said firmly as she shot her sons a look, “that means you two can stop your training for a moment.”

“Princess Daemhrya,” Aegon said, a charming air about his voice as he halfway rushed up the steps to greet her, “Is that you, cousin? My, the years have been kind to you in your stead away from King’s Landing. You are a true Targaryen beauty, indeed. Isn’t she, brother?”

“Always was!” Aemond offered up kindly.

The woman smiled politely, though her eyes were focused entirely on Aemond, “it is indeed I, cousins…Aegon…Aemond…I have not seen Helaena yet…but do give her my best if you see her before me.”

The younger of the siblings blushed, the lie slipping all too easily from his throat as he thought about her words from the dragon pit the previous night, “Cousin…it’s been long since we’ve seen you in King’s Landing. Dare I say that your presence has been missed by the entire family. It’s good to see you here. At home with us.”

“Too long,” she agreed, “I have missed the company of my favorite cousins…and my favorite aunt and uncle of course…Dragonstone is not what I remember now that it’s been overrun by boys.”

Behind her, her father chuckled, ignoring the edge to his daughter’s voice, “are you sure you want to keep her here with you, my queen? She can be quite…feisty.”

“I am sure. Bea and Rhae are both in the stead of others who are showing them what it’s like to be Targaryen royalty. Daemhyra deserves the same. Not to just be hidden away in Dragonstone until the end of time,” Alicent smiled, looking to her husband. She took the young woman’s hand and looked to her sons, “boys…I want you to get reacquainted with your cousin, Daemhrya. Tonight, we will have a feast, and then tomorrow, we shall hold your cousin’s first court since she’s of age. She will be staying with us and will help me in looking after your father.”

“Well, all of this time away from the kingdom has suited you, cousin,” Aemond smiled gently, the compliment making his face burn as he was open with his compliments, “you have blossomed into a beautiful woman…enough to make any man in the kingdom brave enough to consider standing up to your father for a chance at your hand.”

She blushed and looked away from him.

“I’m curious to know if she’s been Strong in her time away from King’s landing,” Aegon jested, implying that she may have slept with Luke or Jace. She frowned as he continued with an antagonizing grin, “a true Targaryen would have begged to come back home, would they not? That is, after all, where we belong. In King’s Landing”

“Aegon!” the king growled at his eldest. He frowned as he looked towards his niece, “I’m sorry, Daemhyra…” Aegon is forgetting himself.”

“I can promise that I am a pure, true, Targaryen,” she smiled, trying to undercut her cousin’s words, “a fighting one at that, who’s already spent more time on a battlefield than drinking wine and chasing skirts in the courts, so watch your words, cousin. Or I may have to make you eat them.”

Viserys chuckled, clapping his niece on the shoulder, “perhaps someone will put Aegon in his place yet…”

Aegon, feeling a strike to his ego in the insinuation that his cousin could beat him in a skirmish and that he was a partier lifted a play sword up to her neck, “fancy proving it, cousin?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, a look halfway between pity and disgust on her face, “I don’t train with wooden swords, cousin…I’m not a child…if we test our might, we should use the real thing, should we not? Test your will as though it is steel, with the very sort!”

“No fear of steel?” Aegon smirked, shrugging his shoulders, “dare you test your might with Aemond then? He’s the best swordsman of the family after all…and you both are…fighting Targaryens.”

“I prefer fighting a man with an actual weapon instead of a boy with a limp stick.”

Aemond’s cheeks went red as he caught the innuendo. His eye shot to hers and he pulled out his sword; his rage reacting before he could think about it. It was one thing for anyone else to jest about his celibacy or his age, but for her, it struck a nerve, “there is no boy with a play sword in me, cousin…no quivering child with a limp stick…I am a man with nerves of steel, and a weapon of one…so…would you care to test your limits as Aegon suggested?”

She smiled, stepping away from the king and queen. Daemon leaned against the rail, “child…you are not here to play contests with pride.”

“How can I resist a challenge from the princes, father? That would be rude of me, would it not?” she teased, looking up at him as she pulled her sword and placed herself in front of her cousin, “always quick to temper, Aemond…and so easy to set off.”

“And you are still just as quick with your wit,” he smirked. The air was electric between the pair as he bowed ever so slightly to her, “good luck, Princess. Just know that I will not go easy on you.”

“I need no luc-what on earth? That’s not fair. We never started!”

She gasped as her cousin lunged forward enough to shear the sleeve from her dress. The tattered fabric fell to the floor of the training ground and their eyes met once more. He shot her a wink before taking a step away from her, “real battles wait not for quips, cousin…they are fought quick and in a deadly manner. No one will wait for your wit to be split in two. They will take advantage.”

“Very well!”

She lunged back, and the fight ensued. It was a consistently well-matched skirmish, with the sound of steel clashing against steel being the only real noises in the courtyard besides Viserys and Daemon making gentle quips at one another.

“Oh, old habits die hard, don’t they,” King Viserys chuckled, looking to his brother, “not even one hour in the courtyard and they’re finding ways to court one another…only now that they are of age it’s not with naps, but steel. It seems their aggressions have transpired into something more…physical.”

“I doubt that she’s courting him. Daemhyra has no interest in being someone’s lady wife. She is to be a warrior. A true dragon rider of old,” Daemon chuckled as he tried to fight off his brother’s insistence, “she’s going to beat your son you kno-“

“SHIT!”

Daemon stopped speaking when he heard his nephew curse. The family looked to see Aemond wipe away a streak of blood from his cheek. Her sword was tipped crimson.

“First blood, cousin.” She called, “I believe that makes me the victor. So, pray tell…what are the spoils in this battle? Aside from damaging the pride of you and the ego of your brother?”

He growled, lunging forward once more. But for him, it wasn’t anger that made him continue on. She’d bested him, sure, but the only thought that crowded his mind was a need to claim her. He wanted to best her in the way that he knew she wanted just as much as he did. He needed to feel her behind closed doors, rolling around in his bed.

What spoils would she get for winning?

The words from the pit replayed in his head as his steel caught the boning of her corset when she spun, slicing through the fabric as though it were butter. She turned once more, and with another flick of his wrist her overskirt was around her ankles.

A blush rose to her cheeks, and she took a few steps back, putting distance between them, “I thought the purpose was to fight, cousin! Not to get me stark naked! Are you doing this in jest? Is this a joke to you? I may be a woman, but I’m just as much a warrior as you are.”

Aemond only smirked.

Her own pride turned to shame, which quickly turned to rage when he lunged at her once more. But this time, she dropped her sword, and disabled the use of his, knocking it from his hands. Using all of her weight and the momentum from him, she threw him over her own frame. The pair rolled to the ground, and she straddled him quickly, pulling a dagger from her thigh and placing it at his throat.

His hands settled under the slip of her dress on her upper thighs. He smirked when he felt the leather strap that was discretely hiding the dagger from the start of their battle.

Both were breathing heavily, her chest heaving against his, leaving her breasts practically in his face. His eyes closed and his nose caught her undeniably sweet scent. Instinctively his fingertips flexed, squeezing her thighs ever so slightly. She held back a moan but whimpered loud enough for him to hear.

Aemond’s jaw clenched as he felt himself start to stiffen.

“I am not to be taken lightly, cousin…”

“I wish to take you many ways, cousin,” he replied gently, his good eye trying to read her reactions while he kept his voice barely above a whisper. He shifted his hips allowing her to feel his growing erection. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, “lightly isn’t one of them…”

“The next time I’m riding you, sweet prince, it better be harder.”

And with that, she threw herself away from her cousin, retracting with her dagger. Aemond lay on the ground, attempting to process what exactly had transpired with the woman that he loved, when his brother’s smug face came into view.

“What do you want, brother?” Aemond sneered, the moment ruined.

“You just got your ass kicked by a girl!” Aegon chuckled, “You are owned by her cunt…and she hasn’t even let you have it yet.”

“Get away from me,” he grumbled as he pushed himself up from the dirt. He looked up to the landing where his mother was rushing her away to get her more than a slip to wear, while his father was chuckling at him and his uncle was glaring, “mind yourself, Aegon…she would have crushed you.”

“In the fight maybe, but I would have been a real man and taken her on my cock the second she straddled me like that!”

“You’re disgusting!” Aemond grunted as he pushed away from his brother and started towards his own quarters.

Chapter 6

#the girl with two dragons #aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #house targaryen #house black

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msfeyredarling · 1 year

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Hi! Here's a Halloween prompt for you... How about Feyre and Rhys (strangers at the time) both go to the same Halloween party and they realize their costumes match.. you know like example Feyre went as Morticia and Rhys went as Gomez...😊

A trail of pomegranates seeds

Happy Halloween everyone!

I hope you enjoy! I kinda steered a bit of path whoops. I might change the title later bc I don't like it.

Link to ao3

—————

As she stepped over the threshold, she was greeted by the site of strobe lights and moving bodies. Some swayed, some danced and others sat and drank drinks an array of colours, similar to the abundance of costumes and masks.

A month ago Mor begged Feyre to participate in Halloween. Begrudgingly she agreed. Mor had taken it upon herself to organise Feyre’s costume. She decided that she and Emerie, along with Feyre, would match as Greek Goddesses.

Mor was dressing as Aletheia and Emerie as Nike and so Feyre was to be Persephone. Not as the goddess of spring, but rather as the Queen of the underworld.

She stared at herself in the mirror, startled by who stared back. Glittering black fabric that barely her breast and backside, flowed to below her navel, joined to one shaft by a belt across her hips and cascaded down to the ground to meet her stiletto heels.

Mor had fashioned her hair into a crown atop her head, a sparkling black diadem like the night sky set in the forefront. Lashes darkened, eyes lined in black, lips painted red. She truly looked like a goddess of the underworld.

If Feyre considered her costume to be indecent, it was nothing compared to Mor’s. Feyre had an inkling she had dressed for the person she now lead through the crowd.

Her dress glittered with every swish of her hips as she follow Mor and Emerie through the crowd. Eventually, they reached a booth towards the side, already occupied. The two males and the woman must be the friends Mor convinced her to meet.

The male with shoulder-length hair spoke up first. “So you must be Feyre,” he said, smirking as he took in her costume. “You know you ma—“

“I’m Azriel, and this is Cassian,” Azriel said as he elbowed Cassian in the side, mumbling under his breath. Both were also dressed as God, battle and shadows if she was correct.

As Feyre sat down, she turned her eyes to the female with black hair. “Amren,” was all she offered.

Mor took ahold of Emeries hand and bounced onto the dance floor. Feyre watched the blonde disappear. She shuffled nervously in her seat, unsure of what to do. “We don't bite Feyre, unless you ask us to,” Cassisn grinned at her, immediately calming her nerves.

“Last I heard no one ever took you up on that offer,” Amren said, eyes unrealistically silver.

“The creatures have been let out of their cages tonight. Someone might just,” he snarked back as Azriel chuckled.

They talked for a while longer before Feyre stood, announcing she was getting a drink. She sashayed towards the bar, nodding to the bartender and ordering her drink.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

Feyre startled and whipped around so fast she fell. Warm hands caught her, gently placing her back on her feet. She glanced up, taking in the dark attire, muscles almost straining against the fabric, the long cape and the black crown, to the sparkling violet eyes.

“I— I’m Sorry you have the wrong person,” she stammered, her throat dry. The bartender signalled her drink as really and she took a large mouthful, fully aware of the eyes on her.

“I think I would recognise my Queen anywhere,” at this is she spat her drink back into her glass.

“Excuse me?” She squeaked, eyes blown wide.

The male smirked, gesturing to their costumes. “We’re matching. Your Persephone and I’m Hades.” Feyre’s cheeks felt ablaze, her mind only just understanding the meaning of his particular crown. “My real name is Rhysand, but you can call me Rhys,” he held out his hand and she took it. His name was bouncing around her brain, she knew it from somewhere. Realisation dawned on her all at once.

“You’re Mor’s cousin?” She asked, shocked this was the same cousin Mor tried to set her up with.

“And you’re Feyre. The one Mor tried to set me up with but apparently, you keep declining her,” he raised a brow, her cheeks darkening. She honestly didn’t think much of guys like Rhys, they tended to be the same. “Come on let’s find my meddlesome cousin.”

He offered his arm and she took it, if only because her mind was whirling. Mor and Emerie were back at the booth, happily, chatting away. When she noticed their arrival, she glanced up with a knowing glint in her eye.

“Oh, I love your costume, Rhys. What a coincidence it matches Feyre’s,” she grinned at them, then picked up a wine glass. “It was just meant to be,” she muttered into the glass.

“You wouldn’t know it was a coincidence if it smacked you right in the face.” Feyre burst out laughing, others following suit. Rhys stared at her with such intensity, the stars in his eyes seem to glow brighter.

As the night grew longer, her opinions of Rhysand slowly altered. She was completely wrong about him and he was nothing like her past. From what she saw tonight she really wanted to know this Rhys. Maybe the costumes were all Mor's doing, but maybe it was fate. Maybe she didn’t need a night in shining armour. Maybe she just needed the villain that rescued the Princess, the Hades that saved Persephone.

#feyreandrhysand #feysand #feyre #rhysand #feyrhys #feyre x rhys #halloween #resquest #acomaf #acotar #acowar #acosf #acofas #fanfic

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foulbelieverwerewolf · 2 years

Text

Daemon Targaryen

You'd have never thought that fateful trip to King's Landing would change your destiny forever. But it did. It's where you met the man that would be your husband and father to your children. It's the place where everything you thought you knew about love changed. And it was all thanks to Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince. When he first laid eyes on you, he was positive someone had cast a spell. To him, only magic could provide answers to why he was utterly enamoured with you after one look. He'd never seen a creature so stunning. That evening was the hardest time he had controlling him impulses. Typically he would jump the bones of any woman he fancied but he knew you weren't like the rest. To begin with, most obviously, you weren't a harlot. You were a noble, of the house Martell. A humble yet much revered house from Dorne. A fibre of him, the part of Daemon that begged sensibility, didn't want to disrespect you or violate you as he did most of his conquests . It wasn't just a fleeting night of passion he wanted from you. He wanted everything. Every part of you. And the God's knew he'd have that quicker than either of you could blink. Daemon decided that night you were to be his wife. He didn't even know your name but he'd already decided you'd be his for eternity. Your long brown waves flowed effortlessly down your slender frame, accompanied with your bronzed sun kissed complexion, it drove him wild and those eyes. Those god damn eyes he could spend an eternity gazing into and never be bored. The most beautiful shade of green in a pool of grey and blue. He thought Westeros harboured the most beautiful women but now he felt ignorant for never venturing further East. The night you first laid eyes on each other was when the Targaryens had invited the noble houses to a feast, a celebration of their new heir. The Queen had birthed a beautiful boy and it had called for a celebration of great joy. Thus your house had also been invited. It's not that you were unknown in these parts, just not known very well. But King Viserys knew of you. He'd heard tales of your magnificent beauty and sickeningly sweet soul. And the tales didn't do you justice. Not one bit. Wherever you walked, you turned heads but you were oblivious. Your heart was with the people, serving your own loyal kingdom, as small as it was.

'Y/N, the King asks for you,' your mother tells you. She pulls you away from your conversation with your ladies in waiting slowly beckoning you across to him. That's when you see Daemon. Your breath catches subtly and you feel a tightening in your chest. One you'd never experienced before, suddenly you were nervous, the mere sight of Daemon had already started to unravel you of your usual state of confidence and command. Truthfully, there were many suitors after your hand in marriage but it wasn't a prospect you desired. To be wed and submit to a man you knew nothing of. You'd rather live your days alone in the company of those who truly loved you. Despite Daemons intense gaze, you keep a cool exterior and unwavering confidence as you approach the royal family. The Targaryens truly were some of the most beautiful men and women you'd had the privilege of meeting. And Daemon was no exception. His face was chiselled to perfection, his eyes had the most enticing yet menacing gaze, he stood tall chest burly and shoulders broad and of course he had the most beautiful silver hair, locks that rivaled some of the women you knew.

'Your Grace,' your mother bows and you copy her gesture.

'It is my pleasure to present to you the Lady Y/N Martell,' you smile politely at the King.

'Your Grace, it is an honour to meet you after too many years' the King smiles tilting his head to you.

'Lady Martell, its a pleasure to have you here to celebrate with us. Allow me to introduce my family,' you nod courteously as he speaks through his family line. Princess Rhaenyra of course, she was a few years younger than you but she too was beautiful. Her eyes a light shade of violet and skin as fair as snow. The Queen sat obediently beside her King holding their new baby. The King gestures to Daemon who stands approaching you. This gains the nearby looks of confusion and shock from King and Council. Daemon had a reputation of paying no mind to trivial matters as such. Yet here he stood, greeting you personally and intimately. He stands before you, towering over you in height.

'Lady Y/N,' he reaches for your hand which you slide into his effortlessly. He places a gentle kiss to the back, his lips lingering long enough for you to feel electricity where your hands connected.

'Your Highness,' he maintains eye contact as he gently releases you from his hold.

'Call me Daemon,' you smile politely and nod.

'I see the tales of your beauty have not done you justice,' he shamelessly let's his eyes wonder the expanse of your body. Gazing fondly at the curves and edges of your frame. His gaze made you nervous yet needy for him to touch you again. You weren't familiar with this at all and it was unsettling, but you didn't dislike the way Daemon made you feel. In fact, you found yourself wanting to spend more time with him. He steps back nodding courteously and returning to his seat beside the King. You dared not make eye contact with him again but you could feel his stare, he was watching you the entire night with desire and intrigue battling inside of him. With every step you took, he fell deeper and deeper in love.

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redorich · 3 years

Note

for the hermit canyon, i humbly request:

Etho messing with Karl and maybe like, Lazarbeam or Fundy, by pretending he’s moth man.

Quackity stalks through the woods, blissfully unaware of its other inhabitants-- not that he would care, if he knew. No, tonight, under the full moon (because it's romantic) he makes his move.

The Hermit, as Quackity is completely sure of, is a beautiful young woman with long flowing hair as white as snow. Because she is a creature of untold power and beauty, fairy tale logic obviously applies. Therefore, if Quackity can steal her clothes, she will have no choice but to marry him and they will live happily ever after as big booty bitches in love.

Nodding to himself, Quackity feels assured in his logic. He's wearing his favorite assless chaps, his best pair of knockoff Yeezys, and no shirt. He is ready for what is to come.

---

Karl lurks deep in the forest, illuminated only by the moon. He leans against a tree, taking care not to disturb his outfit-- he is camouflaged as a bush. Dangling strips of green and brown fabric cover his body, and his limbs are completely hidden in the costume so long as he stands still. It's a daunting task, standing still in the dark, dangerous woods at night. Nevertheless, Karl knows that this is what he must do.

"Triclops Mothman, my beloved," he whispers into the night. He will find Mothman, and he will marry Mothman. There is no alternative.

---

Far away from both Karl and Quackity, though still in the same spruce forest, Sapnap angrily prowls. Well, he'd describe it as a prowl. Truthfully, it's more of a pouty stomp. He knows that this forest has had multiple "Hermit sightings", and Sapnap wants-- no, needs what he's after.

"Hermit!" he screams into the night. "Come out and fight me, you little bitch! Man on man!"

To emphasize his point, he bangs a pot and a pan against each other several times. Sapnap is getting his revenge for that little ravager prank, one way or another.

---

Deep within the canyon walls, the Hermit complex looks like an overturned anthill with all its activity. It's Halloween night come early.

"I'm not wearing a dress," Etho insists.

Grian whines, "But Etho, I made it just for you! It matches Stress's outfit."

Stress, upon hearing her name, looks up from her book and waves. Cleo is currently fiddling with the thick mane of synthetic white hair Stress is wearing, styling the wig into a princess-y type braid.

"I'll say it again," Cleo says, looking very intently into Etho's eyes, "I could take your place."

"No," Etho sighs. "If what Puffy said about these guys is true, you'd probably bite someone's face off by the end of the night."

"You're no fun," Cleo huffs, but acquiesces.

"At least put on the wig," Grian demands.

Grian and Etho have a staring contest for a solid ninety seconds before Etho snaps his fingers in front of Grian's face, causing him to flinch and blink. "You cheater--!"

"I'll wear the wig," Etho interrupts Grian. Instantaneously, Grian loses his outraged moue.

Cleo sighs. "They're the same wig, right? Do I have to braid Etho's hair, too?"

"I think I'll be fine with my new flowing, luscious locks," Etho says with a humorous crinkle to his eyes.

They all laugh as Etho dramatically flips his fake hair, whipping himself in the face with it in the process. He also receives a thumbs up from Joe, who is in the process of searching for his contact lenses because "Herobrine doesn't wear glasses", according to Bdubs.

Night falls, and the Hermits are prepared. They hope their victims aren't.

---

Quackity catches a glimpse of silver-white after so long searching in the woods. With a little gasp, he eagerly pursues it. His beautiful maiden, ethereal and distant like the moon, darts between trees and leaps across creeks like she is flying, like her feet barely touch the ground.

He follows her to a clearing, but when he bursts through the brush into the open space, she is nowhere to be found.

“Mi rey!” he wails, “Fantasma hermosa! Come to papi!”

Etho, hiding in a tree about five feet away, has no clue what any of those words mean. He affects a terrible falsetto and throws his voice. “Hello, Quackity.”

Quackity jumps, looking around wildly for his beautiful girlboss queen. “Hermit?! You know my name?”

“Of course, Quackity,” Etho says, hefting a large rock in his hand. “Come closer, I have a cask of Amontillado we can share.”

Quackity turns toward Etho's voice just fast enough to catch a glimpse of the Hermit's mask, his (fake) long white hair, his decidedly not female appearance. Quackity looks the Hermit up and down. Etho has never felt more Perceived.

"What's a place like you doing in a guy like this?" Quackity says, flirtatiousness dripping from his voice.

Etho eyes the man's assless chaps with distaste from his crouched perch in a tree. Quick as lightning, he chucks the heavy rock in his hand at Quackity's head, knocking him out instantly.

Etho jumps down from his tree with a huffed sigh. "Well," he says, grabbing Quackity by the ankle and dragging him, "time to get to work."

---

"Pspspsps," Karl whispers, "heeeere Mothman..."

The sound of a twig snapping to his right makes Karl freeze, then turn ever so slowly. There's no one there. Karl holds his breath for what feels like an eternity, but is eventually forced to admit that the noise was probably just an animal. Surely, a creature of Mothman's size would make more noise when he walks, given the weight of his strong legs.

"Mothman," Karl says. "I wrote you a poem!"

Joe, who was up until this point hiding behind trees and ominously snapping twigs, feels a twinge of morbid curiosity. As a poet, he absolutely has to know what Karl considers an adequate love poem for Mothman.

With red cheeks, Karl professes his love:

"Your feelers make me feel so sweet

Your hindwings set my heart aflame

Fern-like antennae make me melt

And Mothman, you're to blame."

Despite himself, Joe is a little bit impressed. It almost makes him feel bad about what he's about to do-- almost.

A soft eerie glow seeps into the forest, catching Karl's eye. He investigates, creeping forward until he turns around a tree and sees glowing white eyes. He screams, but there is no sound, and the forest has disappeared. Only those eyes remain, and they too flicker out of existence.

There is a dim corridor ahead of him, narrow and lit by redstone torches. At the end, there is an iron door. He runs to the exit, but as soon as his hand touches the door it disappears and he is engulfed by swirling purple-- like a Nether portal, but so much more terrifying.

The purple is gone and he can just barely make out the menacing image of a man with glowing white eyes T-posing in the blackness. Karl opens his eyes and wakes up on the forest floor, prone and sore.

"Right," he mutters breathlessly to himself, "Mothman is not interested."

---

"--YOU BITCH ASS PUNK, I'M GONNA RIP YOUR LEGS OFF AND STICK 'EM ON YOUR HEAD!" Sapnap screams, banging the only pot he owns against a non-stick frying pan he stole from George.

"Well, that's not very nice, innit?" says a feminine voice. Sapnap looks left, right, behind him, up in the trees... then down.

Big brown eyes peer up at him through white bangs. A displeased pout set into a moon-pale face attached to an equally moon-pale woman chastises him without words.

"...You're the Hermit?" Sapnap says disbelievingly. He has his doubts that someone as small and pretty as this woman could wrangle a ravager onto his front lawn.

"You wanted a fight," she huffs. "And for the record, you totally had it coming, with Pamela's Revenge-- remember, the rava--"

"Yes, I know the ravager was named Pamela's Revenge! There were like eight hundred million death messages in chat about it, you jackass!" Sapnap snaps, trying to cover up his unease. It's not that he's hesitant to hit her because she's a girl; he would deck the shit out of Niki or Puffy with absolutely no provocation whatsoever. It's just that... she looks soft. Like a non-combatant. It would be too easy, too cruel--

Stress punches Sapnap in the jaw with a wicked right hook. "Stealing is wrong," she says.

While Sapnap is dazed and quite possibly mildly concussed, Stress follows up with a brutal kick to the shin. Sapnap makes a genuine effort to fight back, and he’s no slouch, but he’s been taken so thoroughly off guard that the best he can do with his head spinning as it is is to swing with a wild haymaker and hope it hits.

His fist makes contact with something soft and squishy. He hears a grunt, but Stress shoves him over onto the ground and dumps a bucket of glitter over his head. It burns his eyes, but more importantly it burns his pride. He doesn’t remember at what point he dropped his pot and pan (he must have at some point, because he punched the Hermit with an empty fist), but he’s angry enough to open his watery eyes through the magenta glitter and snatch George’s frying pan up off the forest floor, hurling it at the Hermit with devastating accuracy. She yelps, blocking with her forearm at the last moment.

“Knew I shoulda let Etho...” Sapnap hears the Hermit mutter. What’s an Etho?

Stress irritably bonks Sapnap on the head with the pan he threw at her. He goes limp like a ragdoll, and Stress sets about maneuvering his body into a sitting position leaned against a tree so she can do his makeup while he sleeps.

“Hope I don’t poke his eye out!” she says. “Ah well, he’s got two anyway. Now, should I go for a cute, summery look, or a dark evening look?”

---

In Atrium 1 of the Hermit Canyon complex, Puffy laughs loud and clear, clutching her paper cup tightly so she doesn’t spill her fruit punch. "No,” she chokes out, “he didn’t.”

Cub, holding a similar paper cup, waves his hand in a vague gesture. “Yep. That’s Etho for you. You know, one time he got Doc to run around with a snowman head on, eating spider eyes?”

“Oh man,” Puffy sighs, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye. “I’m so glad I snitched on Karl, Quackity, and Sapnap. I can’t wait to see their reactions!”

Cub grins evilly. “Stress got pictures before she left.”

Puffy gasps, stars in her eyes. “I’ll bake you a whole cake if you get me a copy.”

“I’ll bake Cub a whole cake if he gives them to me instead,” Grian interjects from across the room. “I don’t need them, I just want to take them from you.”

“Nooooo!” Puffy wails melodramatically. “Grian, please spare me!”

“Five diamond blocks,” Grian makes his demand.

Puffy continues to fake-sob, pretending not to notice Scar sneaking up on Grian until Scar drops an anvil on Grian’s head, like a Looney Tunes episode but slightly to the left. While Grian is distracted, Cub slips the pictures to Puffy, who puts them in her inventory without looking.

Etho walks into the Atrium, now dressed as his normal self, including his natural hair, which looks like an angry wet cat perched atop his head, just the way he likes it. Everyone cheers.

“So, how’d it go with Quackity?” Puffy asks with a smirk.

“Well...” Etho says.

---

Quackity wakes up with the sun in his eyes. In front of him is the public Nether portal, and standing right in front of it is a wide-eyed Sam, staring directly at him. Quackity looks down.

He’s naked, covered in half-dried honey, and tied to a pole like the world’s sexiest flag. And he’s got the world’s worst hangover-- it feels like he’s been hit in the head with a large rock.

“Not again,” he groans.

“...This happens often?” Sam asks.

“If I had a nickel for every time something like this has happened,” Quackity says, wiggling his way out of the ropes tying him to the pole, “I’d have enough money to go buy myself a pair of pants.”

Sam averts his eyes to the sky, abruptly aware of exactly why Quackity would feel the need to buy a pair of pants.

“Damn it,” Quackity says. “Those were my favorite pair of assless chaps.”

“Were they now,” Sam says numbly. The sky is quite blue today, it’s rather beautiful.

Quackity huffs in aggravation, finally having freed himself from his binds. “Yeah, they just don’t make ‘em like they used to, you know?”

“Not really, no,” Sam says slowly. “I wouldn’t know much about-- assless chaps.”

The naked man shrugs. Haltingly, Sam unclasps his cape, pulling it off his shoulders and offering it to Quackity.

“Nah,” Quackity says, “I’ll just streak.”

“Please don’t,” Sam says with pain in his eyes.

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit canyon au #quackity #karl jacobs #sapnap #grian #ethoslab #stressmonster #zombiecleo #captain puffy #joe hills #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan135 #awesamdude #me.cpp #me.txt

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c-e-d-dreamer · 3 years

Text

Happy Oct. 1 and the start of Halloween! Please enjoy this spooky inspired Nessian fic! :)

It had been an accident. A complete and absolute accident. Cassian had agreed to host a mini Halloween party at his loft apartment. They would order food in, play some drinking games, maybe binge some horror movies. It was going to be fun, and Cassian simply wanted his place to look the part. So he had bought those fake spiderwebs and hung them from the lamps and across the curtains. He bought some fake skulls and plastic pumpkins to set about the living room and kitchen.

And he simply thought it would be funny to draw a pentagram on the floor. It looked just like in those cheesy Halloween movies, and he knew Azriel would get a kick out of it. He even set some candles around it to really make it look the part, and he couldn't help but put on his best 'spooky' voice as he said some words he'd read in one of Rhys' musty books in his library, some language he'd never heard of but sounded cool. He didn't think anything of it.

And that's how Cassian ends up with a woman standing in the middle of his apartment.

Cassian has no idea who she is, but he can’t deny that she is breathtakingly gorgeous. Her golden brown hair is braided up into an intricate crown, a few wisps of hair falling against her temples and framing her face. It brings out the cut lines of her cheekbones. She’s wearing a form fitting dress, the black fabric hugging her curves and arms before it flows into a deep blue at her feet. But Cassian’s eyes get stuck on her eyes, as dark as night as they pierce into Cassian’s own.

"I am the Goddess of Death, Princess of Decay,” the woman says, her voice seeming to boom and echo in Cassian’s apartment. “Who are you who commands me?"

"How did you get in here?"

The question seems to give the woman pause, and she blinks at Cassian for a few seconds. Cassian watches as her head tilts slightly, her eyebrows pinching.

"Excuse me?" the woman asks.

"I mean my front door is locked so I'm just confused how you got in here."

"You summoned me."

"I summoned you…?"

Cassian takes in where the woman is standing, right in the middle of the pentagram, her too dark eyes, and the way power seems to radiate off her in a way that rumbles in his own bones. Finally, his brain catches on.

"You're a demon."

The woman crosses her arms, her weight settling on her left leg. She raises her eyebrows at Cassian, her face cold and unimpressed. It pretty clearly reads ‘no shit.’

“I summoned a demon?”

“Are you asking me?”

“I summoned a demon,” Cassian mutters, mostly to himself.

“What are you expecting? Congratulations?” the demon-woman quips. “Look, just tell me what you want.”

“About that…'' Cassian starts, clearing his throat awkwardly and rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. “I actually didn’t mean to summon you. It was an accident.”

“Is this a joke?”

“Unfortunately not. But I don’t need anything from you, so I guess you can just go back to wherever it is demons live.”

“That’s not how it works. I’m tied to you until you banish me.”

“And how do I do that?”

“You don’t know how to banish me?”

“I just told you I summoned you by accident. I’m not even sure how I did that.”

The demon-woman closes her eyes and lets out a long sigh through her nose like she’s trying to stay calm. Cassian can’t help but wonder what would happen if she doesn’t stay calm. Would she attack him like demons in movies? Are the representations of demons in movies accurate? Would it be rude to ask her? After a moment, the demon-woman takes a deep breath and smooths back her hair before settling her eyes back on Cassian.

“So, let me get this straight,” the demon-woman says. “You summoned me by accident, you don’t actually have any biddings for me to do, and you don’t know how to banish me.”

“Yes,” Cassian replies, chuckling sheepishly.

“Great,” the demon-woman mutters. “I was summoned by an idiot.”

“But I can Google it,” Cassian promises.

It turns out, Google isn’t that helpful when it comes to actual demons. Cassian tries various different searches, but all that he’s able to come up with is a bunch of television and movie references, a Buzzfeed article comparing different celebs to demons, and a weird article about making deals with the devil. Luckily, he is able to find a local witchy shop that’s only three blocks down from his apartment. Unfortunately, they’re closed and don’t open until the next morning, so he and demon-woman are stuck together for the time being.

He had moved to the sofa when he started his Google deep dive, and the demon-woman had stepped gracefully out of the pentagram to sit on the opposite end. She hasn’t said anything since their initial talk when she appeared, and Cassian can’t help but steal glances her way out of the corner of his eye. She looks like a queen the way she’s perched on the cream colored sofa cushion.

“So,” Cassian drawls into the silence. “Do demons eat? I can order pizza.”

The demon-woman turns to him, one eyebrow poised. The look sends a shiver down his spine. He's not entirely sure it's out of fear.

As it turns out, demons do in fact eat, as Cassian learns. He also learns that this particular demon prefers her pizza topped with veggies and that her name is Nesta.

“Have you always been a demon?” Cassian asks, taking a bite of his pizza slice.

“Seriously?”

“You’re the first demon I’ve ever met. You can’t blame me for being curious, sweetheart.”

Nesta’s eyes snap to his, a scowl pinched across her lips. The expression pulls a smile across Cassian’s own face, which only makes Nesta’s eyes narrow more. Cassian’s fingers itch to reach out and smooth the lines between her eyebrows. The desire is so sudden that Cassian busies himself with grabbing another slice of pizza out of the box to distract himself.

“First of all, don’t ever call me sweetheart again,” Nesta starts. “And to answer your question, no. I haven’t always been a demon.”

“Then how did you become a demon?”

“I made a deal.”

“Was it worth it?”

Something passes over Nesta’s face then, like ghostly fingers leaving a haunting trail against her skin. Her spine straightens like steel, and when her eyes meet Cassian’s again, there’s a guardedness to her expression that speaks volumes yet leaves Cassian with even more questions.

“Most days,” Nesta replies simply.

~ * * * ~

The witchy shop is decidedly less spooky than Cassian had envisioned, but perhaps that’s just his biases and what movies taught him coming into play. He expects cobwebs and weird animal parts in slimy jars, and maybe a black cat that screeches at him when he steps inside. Instead, there’s an aisle dedicated to herbs and another dedicated to crystals. He squints at the black scrawled writing of the placards declaring what each crystal is for. He supposes it would be a bit too easy if one just said ‘banishing demons.’

Nesta sighs loudly from over his shoulder when he picks up a candle to smell. When he glances her way, her arms are crossed and that scowl from before is back plastered across her face. Slowly, he turns back around and sets the candle back down on the shelf.

“Do you mind?” Nesta quips.

“Alright, alright,” Cassian acquiesces, keeping his voice down to avoid attention. Another thing he learnt last night was that only he could see and hear Nesta.

He heads for the counter of the shop where a young woman is arranging jewelry in the display case. As he approaches, the woman looks up and offers him a friendly smile. Cassian tries to offer one back, but he’s sure it must look more like a grimace. Once at the counter, Cassian clears his throat, shoving nervous fingers through his tangle of hair.

“Hello,” Cassian starts awkwardly. “This is probably a weird question, but you wouldn’t happen to know how to banish a demon, would you?”

“Do you have a demon problem?” the shop worker asks.

“Something like that.”

“Well, is the demon powerful?”

Cassian looks over his shoulder to Nesta, raising a questioning eyebrow at her. In response, she merely smiles. It’s all teeth and the exact opposite of innocent. It stirs something deep in his gut.

“Very,” Nesta bites out.

Cassian turns back to the shop worker. “Very.”

“Wait,” the shop worker replies. “The demon, is he here?”

“She,” Cassian corrects. “And yes.”

“But how did she get past my wards?”

Cassian’s gaze follows the shop worker’s own, to the silver trinkets that twist and clink together softly above the shop’s door. He can hear Nesta’s scoff at the suggestion, and he doesn’t need to be looking at her to know that she’s rolling her eyes.

“It would seem they don’t work,” Cassian offers sheepishly.

The shop worker gapes for just a moment before she turns on her heel, pushing past the beads hanging over the doorway to the backroom. When she returns, she has a box of crystals that she sets down on the counter, a bundle of herbs labeled ‘sage’ and a folded up piece of paper nestled on top.

“You’ll need to draw a circle and set these crystals around it,” the shop worker explains. “Make sure you charge the crystals under the full moon and don’t wait. Do it the next day. That’s when they’ll be the most powerful. Burn the sage to cleanse and say this incantation, and you should be free of your demon.”

“Great,” Cassian exclaims, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. “I’ll take it.”

After paying and gathering his items, they head out of the shop. Cassian feels lighter already. They have a plan. Plus, the fall weather today is gorgeous and that always helps to lift his spirits, the cool breeze and canopy of yellow and reds above their heads. It definitely helps that fall and Nesta look amazing together, the golden rays of the sun bouncing off her hair. Cassian can’t help but offer her an easy grin as they walk side by side.

“See? That was super easy. We’ll have you banished before you know it.”

“And when’s the next full moon?” Nesta asks dryly.

Cassian startles slightly at the question. He shifts the weight of the things he just bought to one arm and digs his phone out of his pocket with the other. A quick Google later, and Cassian takes in the date glaring back at him on the small screen with a frown. When he looks back up at Nesta, she’s staring back at him unimpressed, clearly already knowing the answer. With a roll of her eyes and what sounds to Cassian like a muttered ‘idiot,’ she takes off ahead him back toward his apartment.

It’s going to be a long two and half weeks.

And Cassian simps the whole time for those two and a half weeks. And there’s feelings. And Cassian makes a deal of his own to save Nesta’s soul. And they live happily ever after.

#my fic #acotar #nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Hue and Cry XVII

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), trauma, some elements untagged.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: The reader and Zemo try to figure out what’s next.

Note: Hey, I banged this out quicker than expected. This part went longer than I expected to not as much happened as I thought hahaha. But here we go, again.(I will try to update the masterlist asap)

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

Two Summers Later

The sun raised beads of sweat across your brow, even in the shadow of the tree. A gentle breeze rolled over the grass now and again, a soft sort of heat. You laid across the blanket in your thin dress, a subtle movement beside you, low babbling and grasping fingers. You breathed in the scent of pollen and watched the lush leaves sway above.

The footsteps were light but he was careful not to frighten you. The baby girl murmured, over a year old now. She stood, unsteadily, and he caught her before she stumbled too far. His shadow loomed above you as he lifted Elina and smiled at her round cheeks.

“How is my little baroness?” he cooed as he bounced her and her gibberish grew louder as she grabbed at his pale tunic, “my lady?” he peered down at you, “you look… serene.”

“She likes to watch the cloud but it’s much too bright today,” you sat up and grabbed your cane from against the trunk. Lord Zemo offered his hand and helped you to your feet, “so we have watched the bloom instead.”

“She is getting big. More agile,” he commented as she tugged at his beard. He’d grown it over the winter but hadn’t cut it even in the heat. She liked to pet it and you suspected that was the reason for his obstinacy, “how will you keep up with her?”

“I have learned,” you poked him with the tip of your cane, “still learning.”

“Very quickly,” he praised, “the accent is better,” he pinched two fingers together, “I almost believe you a woman of this land.”

“Sometimes I believe it myself,” you went to the bench and sat heavily. Your hip never healed quite as it had been before so you limped with the carved wood capped with silver and made the best of it, “bring her here,” you set the can aside and pulled the thin scarf over your shoulders, “she should eat.”

“I told you, a wet nurse would do her better,” he neared and handed her over after a final peck on her cheek, “and she is getting older. She eats at the table now.”

“She will have some proper food when we get in,” you covered her against your chest and unlaced the front of your gown, “I like having her close.”

He nodded and paced through the grass. He removed his silk cap and ran his fingers through his dark hair. He was anxious as of late, you noticed only because it was an unusual trait for him. He sighed as he tucked his hat into his belt.

“Would you tell me?” you asked sharply as Elina latched.

“Tell you what?” he tilted his head coyly.

“What makes you uneasy?” you urged.

The tugging in your chest calmed you as you cradled your daughter close. When she was born, that had been difficult. She reminded you of her father then but now she was yours. She was the only gift he’d ever given you.

“It is… complicated,” he said with a frown, “I think it best we put the child down before we talk on it.”

“If you wish,” you relented, “Werner says she is doing well. I went to him this morning.”

“And you?” Zemo crossed his arms, “does he say you are doing well?”

You kept one arm around Elina and unthinkingly brushed the scar that stretched from your hairline to your chin, a rippled line along your cheek, one of a dozen markers of that fateful day. You still dreamed of it but they weren’t so much nightmares as vague memories.

“I will need the cane so long as I live,” you said and dropped your arm back under the scarf, “the scars will fade but not entirely. I suppose none of that matters.”

He nodded and rubbed his chin as he began to pace again, “back from the dead,” he mused, “we have a legend here, about a woman, a queen…” he went on, “she married a king who did not love her nor she him. He wanted another and he was… quite intent on it. So he accused her of adultery and witchery and passed on her the harshest sentence; she was drawn and quartered, pulled apart by horses.

“We have since done away with such punishments, too savage, but the legend goes that they buried the parts of her and the king married his lover on her grave. The gods saw it as an affront, the lies, the trial held in their names, the death imparted in the same vein, and then a mocking marriage on the site of their sins…

“In her casket, her body reformed though she still showed the signs of her fate. She climbed out of her resting place and visited her king in the night. She’d never done that before you see because he had no love for her, he never even tried, and she tore him piece by piece, worse even then the horses. Fingers, toes, tongue… balls, every bit of him plucked little by little until he was nothing.

“The legend never did say where she went after that, her grave was found disturbed and her body gone. Those women who suffer with violent or cruel men, they pray to her, they burn candles for her, and even, they kill their men for her.”

“Why are you saying all this?” you interrupted as you wiped up your chest and clumsily tied up the laces of your dress as Elina slobbered down it.

“Because I see you are reformed like the queen but I wonder, where is your sense of vengeance?”

You were quiet as you fixed your dress and lifted Elina above the scarf to pat her back. Soon she would no longer take the nipple and you were stubborn to keep it up for so long but the time passed and the thought of separation frightened you. Soon she would be old enough to realise how odd everything was and she would ask questions. You weren’t sure if you could ever answer them.

“Take her please,” you held her out and he came to lift her. He set her down on her feet instead and held her hand as she took some steps. She grew more bold by the minute. He bent as he ushered her around. You planted your cane in the ground and stood, “vengeance,” you said carefully, “I remember you warned me not to trust you, is that why? Are you ready to use me against him?”

“I always knew you were clever,” he smiled as Elina bent her legs and bounced in place. He chuckled at her and suddenly scooped her up. He tossed her and caught her as she trilled in excitement, “the time comes closer but the path is not clearer.”

You watched him as he stilled your daughter and balanced her against his side, “I don’t know if I can ever face him again,” you confessed.

“That is not what I ask,” he said, “it is not what I intend but...the winds begin to blow and I must let them carry me.”

You followed him as he set off towards the castle, The Tower Zemo, a bastion of brick among the grasslands. It was so tall one could see for miles in any direction and it could be seen in turn from just as far. He was patient as your cane plunked down after each step and he made silly faces at Elina.

“You have bided me longer than I expected. And her,” you said as you approached the open doors of the castle. The stairs were another task but you’d learned to take them with your hip.

“Her? You think I forsake her her father? She is nothing like him,” he replied as he waited at the tip of the steps, “and she is all the good parts of you. All that he didn’t take.”

“I am indebted to you, I am aware of that, but you do not attempt to collect your dues,” you challenged as you came level to him, “it makes me wary.”

“Would it be too… ridiculous to say that she is payment enough,” he smiled at your daughter, “she has brightened many of my days here.”

“It is because I know how things are. How it works among you noblemen,” you countered, “there is something more you want.”

“Tess,” he called and the pudgy maid appeared, “she is hungry, see that she is fed before she is laid down.”

“My lord,” Tess took the child eagerly and poked her nose playfully, “come here, little poppy.”

You watched her go as she began to sing to Elina. Her voice carried through the corridors as her wide hips swayed and her white hair wisped from under her cap. The old woman had seen your daughter into the world and since helped keep her there.

“So what is it you haven’t told me?” you turned on Zemo.

“Wouldn’t you like to sit?” he asked slyly.

“You are welcome to recline, sir, but I would hear you now. I’ve waited long enough,” you insisted.

“Well…” he took a deep breath and walked ahead of you. He turned back and clapped his hand together as the summer flowed in through the open doors, “I must send you away.”

“Send me away?” you gulped and looked to the door which Tess had just taken your daughter through.

“You will have Elina, I am not heartless,” he said, “though I will miss the little baroness.”

“Where are we going?” you quivered in relief.

“I have a castle on the lake, Heinrich’s Creek,” he explained, “it is a lovely little place. My mother’s favourite of my family’s holds. It is far away from court, further than this, and safe. Only my blood knows where it lies and… so only me and those who I would have escort you.”

“And why? Why do we have to go? Why now?” you prodded.

“I have received a letter from your King Samuel, co-signed by my own king. A party is on the road already and I have been once more tasked with hosting the negotiations. Your people are persistent. They will come here and I will represent the kingdom in these meetings and hopefully I can appease them quick enough that I needn’t worry about them sniffing around,” Zemo bristled, “I have not been allowed the privilege to know of who I host but any in the capital for the tournament, they would know the woman who gave them such a violent finale.”

“And after?”

“We will see how it unfolds first. It will be a chance to gain a measure of the climate. I might even hear after your former keeper, then I will decide what needs be done,” his dark eyes narrowed as mischief ticked in his cheek.

“Why?” you asked, “why cling to it?”

“I am as stubborn as he,” he said carefully, “I was willing to set it aside but he could not. And, my lady, if you haven’t the fire left for your vengeance then I can simply take it upon my own wrath.

“Perhaps it is low of me but how he treated me, how he chased me out even if it did prove convenient to my deceit, it cannot be forgotten. And your people, the war I fought against them, they come to us for help and yet they still boast of their victory. I was there, no one won those battles.”

“So it is all a game of war?”

“Oh, no, I do not long for another war but… retribution leaves few options for the wronged,” he said.

You lowered your chin and moved around him. You sat on the stool by the wall and leaned back against the stone. “And if it put Elina in danger?”

“That is the last thing I want to do. That is why I would send you away.”

“But you said it yourself, you will have need for me… what then?”

He sniffed and his sole scuffed on the floor, “I promised you Elina’s safety, her life. You knew yours wasn’t part of the bargain.”

“I know but… if you--”

“I have friends who can see to the girl. I have made arrangements for the little baroness.”

“But--”

“It was never a title I gave her lightly,” he intoned, “she has noble blood and I have no heir. She will grow, she will live, she will flourish.”

You gripped your cane tightly and ran your nails along your skirt, “when do we leave?”

“Within the month. The party will not be here so soon, their progress will be hampered by the heat. There are droughts in the west.”

“And we will be safe at the Creek?”

“Impenetrable,” he assured, “enjoy your time there with your daughter.”

“While it lasts, right?” you uttered.

He looked away grimly and brushed his knuckles against this beard, “we both knew this wouldn’t go on forever.”

“Yes, we knew,” you stood and held your hip, “but you can’t blame me for hoping it would.”

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fandomficsnstuff · 3 years

Text

Little Dragon - Part 5

Summary: You were a child slave of Meereen, when one day a silver haired woman sets you free. Though your master isn’t too keen on letting you go, and Daenerys took personal action to see you freed and taken care of.

(Warnings: A few time jumps here and there, other than that I don’t think so)

High Valyrian is in cursive

You sat bored, staring out over your balcony. Daenerys had forbidden you from attending the fighting pits, which she had reopened, she didn’t want you to witness all the violence and the blood. But you were bored, you had already had your lessons today, your lessons included reading and writing so you didn’t want to read or write now. You watched the city of Meereen, dazed and daydreaming about a day more fun, when suddenly you heard the Unsullied outside your door, and you ran to it. It meant that Daenerys was back. You ran to the throne room, ready to greet her with a hug, when you suddenly stopped. Your (H/C) hair that had been flowing behind you as you ran came to a sudden stop, your chest slightly heaving as you saw who stood at the steps to the throne beside a dwarf, who you didn’t know. And when he looked at you you glanced at Daenerys, who gave a very light, and subtle, shake of her head. You looked down before running up the steps to her, hugging her as she hugged you back, her eyes never left the dwarf and exiled man. You retreated from the hug, turning around to look at the two men, Jorah giving you a faint, sad smile, which you returned.

“Princess, you’ve grown so much, you’ve-”

“You will not speak to her” Daenerys cut him off coldly, and you took it as your cue to step back, standing at her right side by the throne. She glanced at you, silently asking you if you were sure that you wanted to stay, but you merely nodded lightly, making her think for a moment before looking back to Jorah and the dwarf. You listened in on the conversation, apparently the dwarf was Tyrion Lannister, one of the houses from Westeros. You knew Jorah was of house Mormont, but you hadn't met anyone else from Westeros besides Daenerys, Jorah and Ser Barristan, so you were intrigued.

After a while, Jorah was banished again, but still alive, thanks to Tyrion, who glanced at you next “forgive me but who is the child? As far as I know, you have no children, Your Grace” Tyrion eyed you with great interest, Daenerys considering for a moment before looking to you “it’s alright, Little Dragon, introduce yourself” she whispered to you, making you nod and step forward, your hands in front of you “My name is (Y/N)” you glanced back at Daenerys who gave you a kind, reassuring smile and gave a tiny nod, you looked back to Tyrion at this assurance “(Y/N) Targaryen, adopted daughter of Daenerys Stormborn, of house Targaryen, pleased to meet you, uh-” you glanced at Daenerys, whispering something to her, making her smile and whisper something back. You gave a nod then looked back to Tyrion “My Lord” you finished. Daenerys beamed with pride as she heard you speak the common tongue so well now, a proud smile on her lips as she watched you step back in your place at her right side.

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

Once again you had been forbidden to go to the fighting pits, for the same reason as before, Daenerys wanted you to be a child for as long as possible. Tyrion had become Hand of the Queen, something you had read about before, and from what you gathered, it’s a second form of ruler, though of course answering to the King or Queen firstly.

You were playing with a stuffed toy dragon that Daenerys had made for you for your twelfth name day, something you were very thankful for. You were trying your best to follow what your teacher said, but could only focus on the stuffed dragon in your hands. You flinched when your teacher gently shook you, scolding you for not paying attention, making you read out loud from a Westerosi book, one about all of the Kings of the North, before Aegon conquered Westeros.

“Rickard Stark, also known as the Laughing Wolf, son of Jon, who defeated the Marsh King and extended the Stark kingdom to include the Neck” you read out loud, doing your best to not glare at your teacher, who very well knew that you didn’t want this lesson to continue. “How long-” your teacher stopped you, gave you a knowing look and you rolled your eyes “how long do I have to read this? I read it yesterday” you sometimes hated when your teacher wouldn’t speak in Valyrian, making you speak in the common tongue, but it gave you an answer nonetheless. “Do you find my lessons boring? When I were your age I would have been lucky to-”

“I just miss Daenerys…” you interrupted your teacher this time, earning you a scowl “she will be back when she is back, now, who was Rickar Stark’s father?” you groaned low “Jon Stark” you mumbled, leaning your head against your hand “can we talk about Aegon instead?” you looked up at your teacher, who scoffed “alright, what was the name of the Northern king who ruled and lived at the time when Aegon conquered Westeros?”

“Torrhen Stark, he was also known as the King Who Knelt” you answered proudly, your teacher giving you an unimpressed look, making your pride dampen a bit. You flinched when your door barged open, seeing Daario. You grinned wildly, abandoning your lessons to run up to him and hug him, he chuckled low and picked you up as you hugged him, giving the teacher a look, making your teacher nod, gather their things and leave quickly “where’s Mhysa?” you asked with a big grin “I wanna tell her about what I learnt today” Daario visibly tensed up “uhm, why don’t you tell me first?” he gave you a quick smile, still holding you in his arms as he carried you down the hallways “did you know that a Northern King, called Torrhen Stark, bent the knee to Aegon Targaryen, first of his name?” you had one of those smug smirks that only a child could wear, making Daario laugh a little “I did not”

“Well, there was also another king, called Brandon Stark, but people called him Brandon the Builder, he built a lot of things” Daario smiled softly at you “I can imagine, wanna tell me what he built?” you lit up at his question “they say he built Winterfell! Capital of the North and where all the nothern kings lived before Aegon came, and the Starks still live there too, but now as wardens of the north. And he built this giant wall too, it’s so big! They say you can’t see the top some days!” Daario laughed at your enthusiasm, finally reaching Daenerys’ room, setting you back down, but when you didn’t see Daenerys you just grew confused. Seeing Missandei you ran up to her, hugging her “how were the fighting pits? Was it fun? Where’s mother?” At your last question Missandei tensed visibly, a silence falling over all of you as Missandei glanced to Daario, then Tyrion, then back to you “there was some trouble in the fighting pits… The Sons of the Harpy appeared and they attacked us” your smile faded, preparing to hear the worst thing of your entire, short life, and when Missandei noticed she quickly added “Daenerys is okay, Drogon came and saved her, he saved all of us in fact, but she had to leave” you were quite relieved to at least know that the woman you considered to be your mother, who called you her own daughter, was alive.

“How long will she be gone?” you asked in a quiet voice, earning only a sad look in response, making you look down “she will be back, she will come back to you, she loves you” Missandei added, trying to take your small hands in hers, as she had seen Daenerys do so many times now, but it didn’t bring you the comfort she had hoped, instead you just nodded, standing still, your gaze at the floor as you wondered where she were at this moment.

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

Daario and Ser Jorah had left to search for Daenerys, that was a few months ago. Tyrion had convinced you, and mostly Missandei and Gray Worm, to let you sit on the throne, just until Daenerys was back. His argument was that she had taken you in as her daughter, and so, although unofficially, made you her heir. It took quite some time to convince Missandei, who was a sort of aunt to you, and who loved you almost as much as Daenerys did.

So here you sat, on the stone throne, listening to a former slave tell you of his former master harassing him. Though you sat on the throne, Missandei and Tyrion did most of the decision making, but not out loud, both of them advised you quietly. But even amongst all of the chaos, Missandei had a small gift made for you, for your upcoming name day, which she gave to you early. It was a small doll made to look like you, the same (Y/H/C) string of hair, a (Y/F/C) dress, and small (Y/E/C) buttons as your eyes, the fabric was also dyed to match your skin tone, and you had proudly displayed it on the table next to your bed, which made Missandei very happy.

You frowned as you heard the former slave talk of what exactly his former master did that counted as harassment, threatening him included, but you felt that he held back, due to your age, and before Tyrion or Missandei could speak, you decided to do so first “you can tell me, I know I’m young, and our Queen will return soon, but for now I can’t help if you don’t tell me everything” the former slave nodded, going into more detail of what his former master had said and done to him after he had been freed. You missed the proud look Missandei gave you, she only wishes Daenerys was here to see it too, knowing she would be glowing with pride and joy at your words. “We can’t let it go on, slavery is no longer a thing here, and by what you’re telling me, it sounds like your former master haven’t figured that out” you looked to Gray Worm “Gray Worm, put his former master in the cells, his fate will be decided later” Tyrion looked at you with an oblivious and, frankly, confused look, not understanding much Valyrian at all, watching Gray Worm leave with the former slave, Missandei once again standing proud.

“May I ask, what was your sentence?” He neared you on the throne, walking up the steps slowly “I haven’t decided yet” you admitted “but he’s being thrown into one of the cells” you stood up, looking at Missandei who still had a proud smirk on her lips, Tyrion, however, was not so proud “perhaps-” you walked past him, with Missandei to your room, Tyrion struggling to keep up “perhaps the cells are a bit too much” you stopped and glanced down at him, and Tyrion felt even smaller under your gaze, even at such a young age, you had learned from Daenerys “as my mother, your Queen, once said, I will answer injustice, with justice” you turned back around, continuing to walk with Missandei who did everything she could to not jump up and down in joy at your words, while Tyrion sighed, looking around to figure out what to do now.

#Daenerys Targaryen #Daenerys Targaryen x Child!Reader #GoTFanFic

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systlinsideblog · 3 years

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Part 6

There was a terrible disorientation, darkness, pressure, and then he was lying facedown on something soft. He flinched as a familiar weight thunked against the back of his thighs; his shield. His sword was still in hand; he was gripping it tightly, out of pure instinct.

Somewhere above him was movement, and the sound of a sword being half drawn, and then a gasp. He recognized the distinctive traits of all three; and decided to simply lie there a bit yet. He had a raging headache suddenly, and there was no danger he could think of that could possibly get through his wife to harm him.

“Foicatch!?” She sounded shocked. There was a soft thump as Ice hit the soft rugs beneath them, and then hands on him, on the back of his shoulders and on his cheek. “Beloved?”

“Fuck.” He said into the carpets. With some effort, he pulled himself up to his knees and took a look around, instinctively taking in his surroundings and the lay of the land.

A tent of some sort, on a wooden platform. A wagon, most likely, judging from the slight give and sway. A large camp, from the noises outside. The tent was rich; gold and jewels glittered in lamplight, and the pallet he was on was of rich, soft carpets and furs. He did not recognize any of it, but was again not surprised. Gods played games with his wife’s life, and wherever she was he knew in his bones that she’d soon rise to the top.

Quite suddenly, arms were around his neck, and Systlin was clinging to him in a bone-creaking embrace. He started, surprised; she was normally a reserved woman, but now she was acting as if she’d not seen him in weeks.

“Sys.” He said weakly. “Sys. Darling. What…”

“Is Senna all right?” She pulled back and stared at him, her eyes bright, desperate. “Is she all right?”

“Of course she is. You saw her half an hour ago.” Foicatch rubbed at his aching temples. “What the fuck was that?”

Her whole body seemed to relax, almost slumping with abject relief, and she pulled back a little, but left one hand on his knee. “For me,” she said. “It’s been three months.”

He blinked a couple of times. “What.”

“Three months.”

“How…”

“The Lady.” When he’d been a boy, he’d never dreamed that he’d ever hear someone make such a matter of fact sort of statement about the Lady, Mother of All. Let alone that he would be married to that person, and that such a statement would make utter sense. “We’re on a world called Gor.” A slight pause. “’Catch, love, you’ve no clue how happy I am to have you here. This place is a shithole.”

“It can’t be that bad.” He waved a hand around at the tent. “This seems nice.”

“I had to kill three thousand men to unfuck this one tribe.” She said bluntly. “And it’s still not really done; that was just lancing the boil. ’Catch, the men of this world are slavers. All of them, from what I can tell, or at least most. They keep women as sex toys.”

Foicatch stared at her for a solid minute or so, appalled.

“What.” He finally managed.

It took her half an hour to fill him in on the details. By the end, his headache was fading, but a second one was threatening on his heels. He’d gotten to his feet some time back, and he was incandescently furious and pacing the tent. (The Ubara’s tent. He felt a flash of pride, at that. Of course she was Ubara; queen by her own hand within a day. He’d expect nothing less of her, and marveled, again, that such a woman as her had chosen him.)

He stopped his pacing long enough to touch her face, to brush her plait back. “You said you killed three thousand that first night.”

“Yes.” She said. The word was a flat statement of fact.

“You must have used your power.”

“Yes.” Again, a statement of fact.

“Are you all right?” He asked it softly. She never admitted to anyone else save Sura the cost of her gift for Breaking, the strain it caused when used too much. But he knew, because she trusted him.

“I am.” She covered his hand with hers. “I told you once; it gets easier to restrain it, with practice. And I’ve had a lot of practice. And the women…” She looked off, at the tent flap. “They’re remarkable. All they’ve been through, and survived. Many are brilliant, and funny, and kind, and fierce. They’ve not let me stew alone.”

He nodded, relieved. Do not let her be alone, Sura had told him once. Sura, bright, brilliant Sura, who’d realized before anyone else living what Systlin was, that there’d come a Breaker strong enough to break even her curse to her will.

They stood there for a moment. She stepped into his arms, and leaned against his chest. He looped his arms around her waist, and let her take comfort as long as she needed it.

At last, he said “So you’ve been gone months, but it’s been but moments at home.”

“Thank the gods.” Systlin’s voice was muffled by his chest. “I’ve been so, so worried, about you and Senna.”

“It’s reasonable then to assume that however long we take here, little or no time will have passed at home.”

“Thank the gods.” She said again, fervent.

“Well.” He said. “We might as well make a proper job of it then. Why don’t you show me around, Ubara?”

He was a very tall man, broad and muscular and strong, a fighting man in true. He wore a sword and shield with the air of a man long accustomed to their use. His eyes were green, and sharp. His hair fell to his shoulders, caught back in a leather tie. His beard was braided into a short plait bound in silver.

This is a proper man, I thought, but then to my horror I saw the glint of silver in his ear.

A man….a man, a fighting man! Had allowed his ear to be pierced! It was shameful, beyond shameful.

The she-sleen emerged from the wagon behind him. She said something, and he turned to listen. I realized that the ring in his ear was a twin to the silver one she wore, and in a flash realized that this was her mate, the one she’d claimed to be bonded to.

He laughed at something she said, and she grinned at him.

I thought that I had seen the she-sleen fight, that day she had slain Kamchak, Ubar of the Tuchuks.

I had not. Not truly. I had realized, of course, that she had been toying with him, toying with a Tuchuk, known as the fiercest and cleverest of warriors. But I had not known, not really, what she was.

I stared as she sparred the man…her husband, it still was a thing of horror to think of bedding such a woman, but if there was a man to master such a woman then I could believe it of this man.

He was magnificent. It was hot; he had stripped to his waist, baring a marvelously formed body to the sun. There were scars here and there, showing that he was a fighting man and had won many battles. His eyes were fierce and keen, and he wielded that metal shield and his sword as easily and lightly as if they were wooden toys, muscles rippling under taut bronze skin. He was fast, as fast as a snake, and his footwork was superb. Any city would have been honored to have a fighting man such as he in their ranks; I am man enough to admit that in battle he could have bested me, and it would have been no shame to lose to such a superb warrior.

But then there was her.

He was magnificent, the pinnacle of what a fighting man strives to be. And out of the three bouts I saw them fight, he lost two.

He was fast. But she was like the speed of a falcon bound into the body of a woman, and made the swordplay look almost as a dance. She would, I thought, have been magnificent in dancing silks.

She flowed like water around strikes. She was, quite nimbly, never where a strike seemed to go, and used her blades with the precision of a physician excising a tumor. Her stamina seemed boundless; indeed, even under the heat of the sun she was not even sweating.

The first match ended after what seemed an impossibly long time to hold out against either of those displays of masterful swordsmanship, with his sword at her breast. My heart soared; surely, I thought, now he would put her in her place, teach her what it meant that he was a man, and she but a female…

But it did not happen. She laughed, and he grinned, a brilliant flash of white teeth.

“See what I mean?” She said, and rolled her shoulders, stepping back. “I’ve needed this. There’s no one here who can really test me, and I’ve been getting sloppy.”

The comment stung; she’d faced the whole of the Tuchuk, and me, a warrior of Ko-Ro-Ba!

He snorted. “The Lady should have brought Stellead here if that was what you needed; a training dummy and someone to teach.”

“Hm.” She gave him a look out of the corner of her eye that shocked me; it was playful, and warm, and very unlike the coldness she usually showed. I wondered if there was a slave under that armor after all, but then of course that could not be; no self respecting man would let a woman who was his slave on the couches and in the furs carry on so in public. “No, I think I’m glad. You are much better looking.”

“Well.” He smiled again. “With all due respect to your lovely and very terrifying aunt, I must agree.”

There were more like her? The thought was horrific. But then they crossed swords again, and I could only watch.

She won that second bout, and the third. At the end of the third, they were staring at each other with a particular heat in their eyes that I knew well; I have seen lust, in many forms.

I was shocked again when she grasped the end of the short plait of his beard, pulled his head down with no great gentleness, and kissed him as thoroughly and passionately as a slave girl might.

I had thought that she must be frigid, in denial of her own womanhood, wishing to be a man and putting from her head all thought of licentiousness and lust. And yet here I saw her, dusty from the training ring, her sword still in her hand, still as unyielding as steel, her movements and body language all sureness and authority, and kissing like a passion slave.

It was shocking, as well; she was demanding of him, not begging, and instead of silks she was attired entirely unflatteringly in leather and wool. And yet somehow the magnificent warrior seemed as enthusiastic about this embrace as a Gorean man with a pleasure slave at his mercy.

She pulled back, but did not let go of his beard or break eye contact. “My tent, I think.” Her voice was all anticipation. “You can leave the boots on.”

“Only if you leave the sword belt on.” He took her hand, and they were gone.

A wagon is not really the most sound-proof of dwellings. Out of some terrible fascination, I drifted towards the wagon of the Ubara.

The noises were loud, and enthusiastic. They lasted quite some time. At times, it sounded as if a pitched battle was taking place within the wagon. It was, indeed, some hour and a half before the she-sleen emerged at last from the wagon. She looked quite pleased with herself. Her hair had been freshly plaited, and she was wearing new clothing. She headed off again towards the training fields, humming some tuneless little song to herself.

Foicatch exited the wagon some time later. He looked the way that a man only does after he has been well and thoroughly pleased. He had put on a tunic, but it was not laced up the front, and his magnificent musculature was still visible through the thin cloth anyways. He was eating a sar fruit. There were imprints of small, even teeth several places on his neck, I saw, and scratch marks down one forearm. He seemed equally pleased with himself.

He saw me staring, and gave me a wide grin. It was quite a smug grin.

“Jealous?” He laughed quietly, drew another sar fruit from his belt pouch, and tossed it my way; I caught it on reflex. “Can’t say I blame you. She’s magnificent, isn’t she?” He looked off in the direction of the practice rings, his expression fond.

“I would think,” I said. “That in going to bed with such a creature, you would risk death should you be found wanting.”

“Oh.” His grin grew wider. “Well, that’s gotten around already? It’s true, actually. She does kill lovers she finds unsatisfying.”

“Foicatch!” A sharp voice, as the she-sleen appeared again, and shook her head at her mate. “You are terrible.”

“Likes to nail the skulls up in the bedroom, just for motivation to any new ones.”

“Foicatch!”

“What? I’m only adding to your legend.”

She rolled her eyes, and gave him a look that was both fond and exasperated. “Terrible.” She vanished back into the wagon. “The council will be here soon to discuss strategy for gathering resources on the migration route. There’s many small towns and cities along the way, and I don’t intend to leave a single whip unburnt in our path.”

“And before you ask,” Foicatch said, as she vanished. “Yes, we’ve been married for thirty years.” A self satisfied grin. “Take from that what you will.”

I stared at him.

“What? Shut your mouth before a bird nests in there, man.”

“You…” I struggled for words. “But you are…you’re a red-blooded fighting man!”

A slight shrug. “Last time I checked, yes.” He finished the fruit.

“And you let your woman be…that?”

“Ah.” His expression shifted in a moment, going dark. “Right.” He gave me a disgusted sort of look. “To begin, there’s nothing on this world or any other that could make Systlin be anything but whatever she wishes to be; she’s herself, and that is why I love her.” The frown deepened. “Just because you lot on this world can only handle women fawning at your feet and fearing for their lives if they say one word against you, doesn’t mean we’re all such cowards on all worlds.”

That struck me deeply. I am many things, but a coward I have never been! I am a fighting man of Ko-Ro-Ba! I am a fighting man of Gor, where the strong rule!

“I am no coward!” I hissed, and had taken a step towards him before I knew it.

“Mmm.” He sounded unconvinced, and was entirely unconcerned at my anger. “Right. That’s why you keep women in chains.” He straightened a bit. I am a tall man, but he was taller, and I had to look up to stare angrily at him. Quite suddenly, in a flash, I wondered if this was how a slave girl felt, before a warrior such as myself, having to tilt her head back to look up at him. “Just because none of you can get a woman without buying her like a horse, chaining her to your bed, and beating her into submission…On my world, such a man would be ridiculed at the least and most pathetic of men.” A pause. “Well, and then executed. But also ridiculed.”

I stared. I had never heard it put so. “They are just women. They deserve no better”

I saw the blow coming, and moved to avoid it, but he was terribly quick and I was still recovering my full fitness since my broken leg. The strike across the face was sudden and sharp, and to my humiliation I realized that I had not been struck with a closed fist, as befitted a warrior, but backhanded like I was a misbehaving slave.

“Did that hurt?” His voice was low, and I realized that he was terribly angry. “Would you like it, to spend your life cringing, waiting for that at any moment because you did not stand correctly? It is braver, I think, to survive such a life than to be the monster who holds the other end of the chain. You are a coward, Tarl Cabot, and every man on this world is a coward if he thinks as you do. If you are afraid of women holding any role but your slaves, that is your failing, not that of men of other worlds.”

He spat in the dust at my feet. “Systlin said the men of this world were awful.” A shake of his head. “I didn’t realize how very much she was right. Go. Get away from this wagon. If I see you again today I might have to throttle you to death.” He turned, and ducked once more into the tent.

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erazonpo3 · 3 years

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WOWM

so What Once Was Mine came out and I read it.

My General Thoughts are that this book was something of a rollercoaster but in like a pop up carnival with dubious safety regulations and diseases in the DIY log flume water kind of way. I had some fun reading it but I also feel like I picked up a rash.

If you're like me and you enjoy picking a book apart for morsels of interesting concepts then you might enjoy it, if you think holy shit why the fuck is a literal real historical serial killer in this book I need to see this then you might enjoy it, if you care about engaging plots and character beats then you probably won't.

If you want to ask me anything specific go ahead, but otherwise for more in depth thoughts: spoilers ahead

Basic Summary of the Plot

Okay so here's the deal. The story has the framing device of two siblings in a cancer ward, where one tells the other a story. I'll get into that later, but that's how it starts. Our actual story starts with a pretty long prologue: We learn that the King & Queen got the Moonflower thinking it was the Sunflower, Rapunzel was born with silver hair, and then baby Rapunzel kills a maid who accidentally hurt her when brushing her hair.

Oh, by the way, Max is a human man named Justin Tregsburg. Yeah.

Anyway, the royal family puts out feelers for legit witches who can safely take care of Rapunzel because the baby is too dangerous, and Gothel shows up to take her away. Queen Arianna visits Rapunzel once (but is only allowed to watch through a peephole) and decides watching another woman raise her child is too painful and throws herself into restoring the kingdom's orphanages instead.

Now we're in the present. Rapunzel is nineteen and she wants to go and see the lanterns (a mourning tradition of the Dead princess in this story). She tries to argue with Gothel but gets shut down, and Gothel makes her kill a chicken to prove the point that she can't go outside because she's too dangerous. However we as the audience already know Gothel plans to sell Rapunzel off as a bride or a servant or a weapon to some other nobles, because she's evil.

Also by the way Gothel still has access to our Sundrop Flower and is using it to live forever that's just a thing that happens in the background.

When Gothel is gone Rapunzel watches as a man (Flynn) stores a satchel in a tree outside of her tower, and that motivates her to leave the tower for the first time. Then she goes back inside the tower with her prize of a crown, and a skink she found and named Pascal. Rapunezl and Gothel have another spat, and Rapunzel decides she will run off to see the lanterns and she will find Flynn and make him her guide.

She ends up at the Snuggly Duckling and she doesn't find Flynn but she does find Gina, a young career criminal girl looking to break the glass ceiling. Gina agrees to help her find Flynn. They find Flynn, and he agrees to help guide Rapunzel to see the floating lanterns for a split reward of the crown with Gina.

The Snuggly Duckling gets burned down by Countess Bathory (yes that Elizabeth Bathory) and the Pub Thugs are pissed about it and also they're helping Rapunzel even though she didn't sing the I've Got A Dream song don't worry about it. We learn that the nobles that wanted to buy Rapunzel are now hunting her down so she can go to auction.

Gina takes them to her adopted mother's cottage. Gina's mother is a white witch, who goes by the name of Goodwife. She doesn't get an actual name she's just The Goodwife. Anyhow, the cottage is a magic safe space (for now) and Goodwife teaches Rapunzel that her hair isn't inherently evil and may not even be all that deadly! Rapunzel learns that her hair has other powers too, like the ability to turn skink Pascal into a sentient Chameleon. Yeah.

Also Goodwife tells Rapunzel she's the dead princess but this isn't like, an immediate call to action. Not a lot happens until we get this story's version of the Mother Knows Best Reprise where Gothel finds Rapunzel again but has to flee, but this Rapunzel has a bigger support network and isn't buying it. Flynn and Gina decide the safest course of action is to bring Rapunzel to the castle, but along the way she gets kidnapped by the Countess.

Gothel is pissed because she still wants the money for Rapunzel, so she rallies the armies of all the opposing bidders. Flynn and Gina convince Max the Man to send for his troops, and he joins them in going to the enemy castle. Flynn tries to sneak in, gets caught, and meanwhile there's a bloody battle out the front between the noble armies. Max jumps into the fray, Gina turns around and rallies the Pub Thugs.

Rapunzel uses her shrinking magic (!) to disappear half the castle and escape with Eugene, and the Pub Thugs arrive and basically end the battle. The Captain is dying but it's okay! Rapunzel turns him into a horse :) Also Rapunzel sees Gothel and tells her to fuck off.

The story ends with a tearful reunion between Rapunzel and her parents, Eugene and Gina are implied to be biological siblings, and things are good but of course in direct parallel to Cass Gina leaves at the end to become an adventurer. The end.

(There are a few other smaller plot beats, but you get the idea.)

MY THOTS

So here are my thoughts™.

Framing Device

I'll just state that I didn't like that the story was told via the vehicle of an older brother telling his 16 year old sister a different version of the Tangled Movie in a cancer ward. From what I've heard it also isn't normal for the Twisted Tales series to use a framing device for the AUs either.

I sympathise with the author's personal story, of course I do. That doesn't mean I'm stirred with compassion every time the flow of the story is interrupted to remind you to be sad because this is a story being told to a girl sick with cancer. It feels more than a little tragedy-porny rather than emotionally touching, and maybe that's because I'm too burnt out on real life tragedy to waste emotional energy on fictional cancer patients but we don't need to do Fault In Our Stars discourse again.

Real World References

This story goes heavy with Real World references. And another issue with the framing device as above is that you do feel like this is a story being told by someone namedropping every historical figure they know which makes it harder to get into the story.

There's like... a lot of references to Christianity, particularly in the prologue. There's a priest that thinks Rapunzel's hair is the work of the Devil or whatever. It's a lot. The Patriarchy is a thing. And that's not even getting into the Countess. I put it very succinctly in my notes so I'll paste it here:

I wish she’d just been an OC who could exist to chew scenery because the fact that she was a literal historical serial killer is super. Off putting. Like, she could have been an obvious reference to Bathory, but it feels like Miku Binder Hamilton levels of uncomfortable to me.

I miss Lady D.

Which basically sums up my problem with trying to take the setting of Tangled and put it somewhere in the Real World and somewhere on the Timeline. Who thought this was a good idea.

Misc. Thoughts

So, I used the five highlighter colours my ipad allows to organise my thoughts and organised them accordingly: Yellow for out of place IRL references, Blue for worldbuilding/character points that aren't plot relevant but still interesting, Pink for when something I find personally amusing happens, Purple for when the story feels like it's trying to 1-up the movie in some kind of way and Green for Heterosexual Nonsense. I'll touch on those last two in the Character sections but be prepared.

Also: for a book about giving Rapunzel killer hair, her hair isn't very dangerous. I wanted to see Rapunzel kill someone, and I'm disappointed that I didn't.

Characters

I'll do a deep dive into my thoughts about the characters before wrapping it up. I'm starting with Gina because she's honestly the easiest to get through.

Gina

Gina is a new character introduced for the story. She's a young woman trying to make it as a career criminal but keeps hitting that glass ceiling. So here's the down low, for all those who want to know: Gina is basically Cass, only not really. She's implied to be Eugene's biological sister, as previously mentioned, but you can imagine she's Cass the entire way through without breaking your immersion because if you imagined Cass if she were adopted by a Goodwitch rather than the Captain and had a looser, more wilderness survivor than trainee guard upbringing then you get Gina.

I liked Gina! I think she's fun as her own character too, and her best moments are when she's interacting with her mother Goody Goodwife, and she of course picks up a natural sibling rivalry with Eugene, but I was disappointed with how little she really bonded with Rapunzel because she needed to make room for Eugene and Rapunzel's romance.

Rapunzel

Okay, here's our protagonist. There's a notable effort to make Rapunzel more active in her destiny and whatever, and sometimes it works but sometimes it doesn't. I was worried they'd try to go full butt-kicking girlboss with her but I was pleasantly surprised that Rapunzel was pretty useless in most scenes, genuinely love to see it.

With a more intimate look into Rapunzel's psyche through the medium of prose, we see Rapunzel really questioning Gothel's behaviour even before she leaves the tower, and while I appreciate that she can develop her own cynicism I feel it starts unnecessarily early. This is my purple colour; the movie needs to be "fixed" by showing the readers that this Rapunzel is quicker to distrust Gothel. She's also quicker to hatch a plan to go outside of the tower on her own, and she makes a plan to make Flynn her guide for the lanterns even though he never stumbles upon her in the tower- and even though she has a perfectly rational reason not to trust him which is that he is a stranger and a Wanted Thief.

In the moments where it does work is when Rapunzel is surrounded by her new support network: Flynn, Goodwife and Gina, who encourage her to question Gothel's sincerity, and Rapunzel comes up with her own defences for Gothel so that she can poke through them herself.

I have some other thoughts about Rapunzel's hair and her powers, like how the story provides the interesting concept that her hair gets different powers with the different phases of the moon, but a lot of the powers are uhhh stupid and also I feel like it really robs the story of the whole gripping conflict of "Yes I'm Rapunzel Yes my hair kills people what of it".

In as far as just Rapunzel herself though, she still felt pretty in character nonetheless, and maybe that's all I can ask.

Flynn Rider / Eugene Fitzherbert

My boy I am so sorry. They neutered my boy.

Long story short: Eugene in this story is the sexy lamp. He contributes nothing to the plot except to be there for Rapunzel to drool over. And of course because he won't get any character development, he starts from the very beginning as a sweet soft boi with none of the Flynn Rider characterisation from the movie because we don't have time for that, he needs to be husband material stat.

His whole character is the colour green for Heterosexual Nonsense.

So, here's the problem. In the movie, there's not a lot of time for ~friendship~ between Rapunzel and Eugene because they kind of immediately see each other as a romantic prospect. And whatever, it's a movie and there's only so much time. But this book had the opportunity to take things a bit slower and instead chooses to make Rapunzel get jealous whenever Eugene and Gina interact and for her to be constantly wishing he was holding her hand.

Say what you will about Lost Lagoon, but it tells a good romance story just by virtue of not intending to be a romance story, because the author is trying to convey a strong bond between Rapunzel and Cassandra without using "and they kiss" as a cheatcode. What Once Was Mine says "he was a boy, she was a girl, could it be any more obvious?" and leaves it at that.

Now as for how this all pertains to Eugene's character? Well, it just robs him of any flavour. In the movie there's a clear distinction between Flynn and Eugene, when we learn Eugene's real name about halfway through. We see a clear difference between the Flynn we knew- kind of an asshole, wanated to drop Rapunzel off at the Snuggly Duckling and get rid of her- and Eugene, who is sincere and chooses Rapunzel as his New Dream in opposition to his Old Dream of living alone on an island with a bunch of money.

This version of Eugene is basically Eugene all the way through, because the plot doesn't really need Eugene there but he has to be there because it's a Tangled AU so there's no Rapunzel rescuing Flynn from the guards and healing his hand scene, he just loves her immediately and that's that. They have a little spat at one point but it's cleared up later and not because they actually communicate but because they kiss.

Rapunzel only learns Eugene's real name at the very end of the story, and gives a speech about how Eugene is the real him, but it's just so flat because 'Flynn' has been sincere this whole time? Anyway he does nothing of value for the entire story except be there for Rapunzel to lust after. Eugene I'm so sorry.

Gothel

Gothel's sort of the Big Bad and is characterised as an abusive asshole, the usual. I wish there were a bit more nuance to her character but then again in this story she's not just being passively evil- taking care of Rapunzel for selfish reasons but nevertheless maintaining the status quo- she's being actively evil in trying to sell Rapunzel off.

It's notably funny that Gothel sees the Countess Bathory and is like "what the fuck".

Anyway Gothel in this story also feels very weak in part because this Rapunzel is more critical and in part because this Rapunzel has a new support network. It's for that reason the Mother Knows Best Reprise scene doesn't really work, because the original has Gothel pit Rapunzel against Eugene, whereas she can't do that here so it remains a Gothel vs Rapunzel thing.

She gets a boring death as an epilogue addendum that someone rips out the Sundrop flower, which tbh? lame. It would be a lot more fun if it were open ended but I am also preferential to Rapunzel actually using her killer hair to kill someone. Please

Captain Justin Tregsburg

It's Max. He was a human but then he got turned into a horse. what the fuck you guys

#how did you spend your day

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