#truly so so so unlucky. in so many ways

[multiwreckedmess]

Two Princes

Pairing: Prince!Hyunjin x fem!servant!Reader x Prince!Felix Genre: Royalty AU Smut WC: 5.5k Summary: A kingdom unlucky in queens but lucky in princes, you live a pleasant life inside the castle walls. Given to the crown by your parents for training it was only a matter of time until you ran into the two golden Princes Hyunjin and Felix.  TW/CW: Power imbalance. SoftDom!Hyunjin, SoftDom!Felix, unprotected penetration, non-explicit consent, reader is called “darling” “miss”, hyunlix is called “sir”, slight breeding kink, double penetration, Felix and Hyunjin aren’t related but are close like brothers so if that gives you the ick heads up ig, basically 5.5k of pwop.

As usual, this is fiction not a resource manual for how to do literally anything in life. This does not represent ANYONE real or fictional. also not proofread sorry...

You prayed no one would notice the waves forming in the dark wine as your hands shook. Only a month into your service at the castle and you’d made it to the throne room. The matron had looked at you proudly for once that morning, announcing that you would take up the place usually kept by her as a capstone to your training. Muscles tense and locked you acutely wanted to appear composed and graceful, as though you’d done the job for decades. Prove to them that you were born to serve the throne.

Or in this case, the thrones of Princes Hyunjin and Felix.

Two striking young men, crowned with golden locks and reputations to match. Truly the kingdom was blessed despite the tragedy that had led to the familial merger. Not directly related by blood the two boys had still had become fast friends and confidants to each other as the King had aimed for.

“You will hardly see one without the other so I suggest you be ready to see double.” Your matron gently chided, stuffing a second handkerchief into your apron. “Have two of everything! We’d hate to think the Princes might ever want for more.”

You nodded fiercely. Amongst the many new rules this one was easy to remember. Two princes. Each gets his own copy when possible.

Pouring from the decanter into Hyunjin’s cup was the closest you’d ever been to either prince. Sharp jawline, plush lips, seemingly shaped by the goddess herself. Almost an artifact of another world, dangerous to gaze at for too long yet irresistible.

“The glass dear, it’s close,” his velvet voice jolts you from your thoughts, eyes flicking down to the nearly overflowing glass.

Hastily you right the decanter, a million apologies bumbling and stumbling and tripping over each other in your mouth as you shrink looking towards the ground.

Hyunjin’s fingers wrap themselves gracefully under your jaw, righting your posture with a practiced ease. “Now, now, no need for all of that. While this is simply too much for me to drink, I can easily share some with my brother, isn’t that right Felix?” Your eyes flick to the other prince, whose head turns slightly surprised to hear his name.  “Please Felix if I may,” Hyunjin gestures with his cup, dark red liquid wobbling precariously near the rim.

Felix’s eyes narrow, flitting from you to the glass to Hyunjin before extending it to his brother with a small smirk. “Of course. No need for our pretty little attendant to worry. We’re quite good at sharing when needed.”

Carefully steadying the younger’s outstretched wine glass, Hyunjin slowly pours from his cup to Felix’s. There is something disconcerting in the way Felix’s eyes rake over you. It makes your stomach tense and lungs freeze in place. No one in the room says a word as Hyunjin tilts his glass upright, forefinger collecting a stray bead of wine as it slips down the edge of the glass. Time seems to freeze as your eyes meet his tongue slowly licks the droplet from his finger, barely even meeting the skin. You don’t even realize how wide your eyes are, how you’ve sealed you lips in a thin line of shock.

“See, we can share quite well when called upon.” Hyunjin giggles.

An advisor, sat on a luxurious leather wingback chair, clears his throat anxiously. “Let’s not play with our food, boys. As you can see from the agenda there are several economic initiatives that need attending to. Once we are done you are free to spend your time however you wish, but for now you have ceded this time to us.”

The two princes straighten in their thrones and nod, dismissing you back to the small stool and table sat in the corner for you. Briefly your knees knock together, unsure of what the concept of “walking” even was. Manuel mode enabled, you lift your unwilling legs and march at what you think is the speed you normally walk, hoping against hope you haven’t drawn excessive attention to yourself.

Fear flutters in your chest as you watch the room, advisors passionately providing their arguments to the princes, both sat and attentive to each as they spoke. This must be what power is, wordlessly commanding respect but lending that same floor to others when asked. Quiet, unassuming, but simmering below the surface.

You had a similar encounter with the princes very early on in your days as you’d scurried along one of the many arcades on the perimeter of the inner ward. Late for your etiquette lesson, already a demerit, you spotted the pair directly in your path. Both kitted out with their tight white fencers dress, headed to the field for a friendly spar. Felix gently swatting at Hyunjins thighs with the practice foil, Hyunjin jumped, laughing. Bubbling with affection towards each other you wanted to just sit there and watch them, living as a fly or a spider or some other unsightly insect just to see their smiles.

And that’s when you realized you’d stopped fully and were staring in an unbecoming manner.

And they’d noticed.

And they were staring back.

The force of the realization threw you behind the nearest piller, back pressed to the cool stone, waiting to hear their footsteps. Heart thudding wildly you know you shouldn’t hide from them, it isn’t right to hide from them, you are there to serve them not spy on them. Their footsteps fade and disappear as you melt against the column. Maybe you’d hallucinated their line of sight, maybe someone else was behind you.

A harsh clang of metal hitting your column jolts you, sending you yelping and jumping away.

The boys burst into laughter, one climbing in pitch the other diving deep into his register. Hyunjin winks as you turn and run away, feet pounding into the ground, chest heaving.

“Sorry didn’t see you there!” He calls after you jovially. Not that it mattered whether or not it was on purpose.

Today you were finding out that the throne room assignment was mostly about waiting. No matter how scant the crowd was, you had to wait until the princes left to clear the drinks, one of many rules you memorized and repeated as you sat idle, waiting to be needed. At least with the great hall no matter how hectic the activity seemed to have a set pattern which you had grown used to and memorized like a court dance. Mind wandering you watch the advisors drift off into adjoining halls and rooms, half drunk glasses of mead and wine alike littering the table as evidence of their having attended.

And suddenly the princes’ full attention was on you. The same calm gaze with which they’d heard out the court they fixed on you, like a spotlight had decided to shine directly down on you. It would be out of turn to speak but it was increasingly warm under their watchful eyes. Subconsciously your fingers worked over the skirt of your apron, nervously smoothing over and picking the pills.

“Miss, are we truly that scary?” Felix smiles at you. “Please. Come sit, we don’t bite!” He’s warm like sunshine with every word he speaks to you.

Perhaps before now you’d never truly appreciated the concept of ‘scurrying’ as you shuffled speedily to kneel between the twin thrones, head bowed. Skirts billowing out around you like a flower you tuck your hands in front of you, perfectly as taught. You can hear the princes stifle a laugh, bodies shifting towards each other in the top of your peripheral vision.

“We did mean sit when we said sit. You don’t have to kneel so formally.”

“I’m sorry your royal highnesses. This is what my training instructed me to do. How would you prefer me, sirs?” You dare not raise your gaze for fear of losing your mind.

Felix smirks and licks his lips, “well if you could look at us that would be a start.”

With a gulp you raise your chin, eyes still tracing the air around their bodies rather than daring to look directly at them.

“She’s so cute, Felix! So proper. Our matron dearest really went too far with her I think.” Hyunjin nearly brags to Felix as though you aren’t directly in front of them.

“Really such a dear thing. All nervous over us like this.”

Hyunjin kneels slightly beside you, close like you had been to pour his wine. “As beautiful as you look on your knees I’d love you to take a seat for us. Can you do that? You can choose anywhere you like, even our laps if they look comfortable. I assure you no better seat in the entire palace.” His tone caresses your nerves, codling you. Almost easing you into standing before them, still trembling. As you turn to pick a chair his voice calls again. “Oh before you sit, please, remove that apron for us, darling.”

Quick to respond to his request you fumble with the pins holding the top half of the apron, hands shaking like leafs.

It’s Felix’s turn to step forward. Taking a quick stride to position himself behind you he easily plucks the knot loose, arms wrapping around your waist to catch the sheath of fabric over his arm. His chin bumps your shoulder, face close to yours in a way you never dared think about. Ears flashing hotly you stumble back on him with a squeak.

“Oh!” Felix exclaims, righting you in his grasp. “I think our darling’s corset is restricting her too much. She nearly fainted right here!”

Mouth opened wide in dismay. You want to fight him on his assumption. Your bindings were fine, it was he that was the problem. But you can’t bring yourself to say it was him. Training taking over, what he said must’ve been right. The girls always did have a habit of lacing too tightly in the morning when their stomachs were empty from hours sleeping.

“Felix, if you think that’s the problem I give you full permission to remove the offending clothing. We can’t have anyone passing out in our care.”

“Sirs! No, I’m fine really, that’s so much-” your panicked voice reaches a high tremor. The reality of the request forcing your hand. You’d be basically nude in the throne room, thin chamise only blurring what the imagination could easily place beneath the formless white fabric.

“What is your primary duty?” Hyunjin barks out suddenly, stilling you.

“To serve the throne, sir.”

“And if you faint? How will that be in service to us?”

“It will not be in service.”

His eyes sparkled, “then by that logic, if removing your bodice serves the throne…?”

“The bodice should be…removed.” You reply shyly, ducking your head to hide your face.

Felix’s small fingers neatly unhook your outer layer, slipping the sleeves off your shoulders and letting the durable slab of roughly woven cotton slide to the floor. Almost equally as swiftly he pops the pins holding your skirts and petticoat tightly around the corset, pooling at your feet, leaving only the offending clothing squeezing your ribs, your pantalettes, and fine linen chemise.

You can’t hide the lewd moan that escapes your lips as Felix presses open the metal release hooks at your front, pinched flesh screaming in delight at the sudden freedom.

“...and that’s why we make the decisions for the kingdom. We know better than our own subjects.” Felix purrs in your ear.

Goosebumps rise on the backs of your arms as you close them across your chest in a lame attempt to keep some modesty. Their consistent gaze heats your insides to jelly. You wish that you owned anything prettier than this to present yourself in. Something silk like the noble ladies or at least lace embroidered like the more well off ilk.

“Felix, are you frightening our darling?”

“Darling, am I scary? Do I scare you? You can be honest with us.”

Panic clenches your abdomen. “No!” You blurt. “You don’t-I’m not scared.” As per your training, you must stay resolute. The answer seems to please them, sharing a small smile and glance at each other.

Hyunjin’s tone remains soft, floating like a melody. “You must know, as you’ve been trained to be so exemplary, that it is my birthday soon. A very special day for all the kingdom and of course for myself. Now, I hadn’t thought of what I might ask for…” he trails off. “Come closer, girl.”

Dutifully you step almost toe to toe with him, Felix returning to his seat to observe. Both wearing the smiles of cats that caught the mouse.

“What do you remember about your prince’s birthdays?”

Straightening up a little you recite, “as we are blessed with two beautiful princes we celebrate each twice. Although they were born separately they are celebrated jointly as the rising of the spring and the beginning of the fall.”

Hyunjin claps his hands, “and! What of our presents?”

“Two of a kind as with all things that can be made twice.”

“Oh she is perfect! Isn’t she, Felix?” Hyunjins hand reaches out to play with the hem of your chamise, pinching and bunching the fabric in his fingers. His eyes flit suddenly up from the hem to you, “I want you for my birthday.”

You can’t control your facial expression, eyes widening and jaw going slack. Breath growing fast and shallow your hand grasps the fabric covering your chest. “Sir, I’m not sure what you mean. I’m already yours as I have been taught and trained to be, I belong to the crown, the throne-”

Of course you knew what he meant. There had been other boys who’d shown interest. Other boys you were interested in. The concept was not new to you. Something about him though, made it unbelievable that he could mean what you thought.

“Your duty is to the crown and the throne. I don’t want that. I want you, I want your body, and I want your affection.” He drew the hem to his lips, kissing the garment like a lord might kiss a ladies hand. “Now hike up your gown and let me have my present.”

Fluttering stomach, fingers trembling, you slowly tug the fabric into your fists, exposing the white legs of your pantalettes, conjoined at the top by a drawn string threaded through both halves. You’ve never seen hyunjin like this, slouched in his throne, legs spread wide. He watches you, palming himself over his breeches.

“Hyunjin, she’s shivering already!” Felix raises his eyebrow. “Are you okay darling? Tell your princes what you need.”

“I’m-I don’t-I’m not sure-” you stutter out, keenly aware of the spotlight on you.

“Please help our darling out, should you wish. She’s your present too after all,” Hyunjin addresses Felix, eyes still fixated on you. They don’t move as you feel Felix’s presence hovering behind you, his hands slowly smoothing your gathered bunches of fabric into one knot held tightly in his fist to your side. Your heart thuds in your chest and echos between your thighs. Lust clouds your judgment like the hazy heat that rolls off of his body. His unoccupied hand slips into the slit in your pantalettes, tracing your folds with the pads of his fingers.

Gasp caught in your throat your veins feel like they’ve been lit on fire.

“Our darling is so responsive, Hyune. You’re going to love her. Cunt’s already dripping.”

“Show me.” Hyunjin demands. Felix tugs on the drawstring, pantalettes swiftly tumbling to the ground.

“Put your knees on the arms of his throne, love. I’ll hold you close still, don’t worry,” Felix whispers assurances in your ear as you shakily spread your legs wide to match the width of the sturdy, thick armrests. Stepping between Hyunjin’s legs to join you, he encourages you to lean back into his chest, angling your pelvis to present lewdly forward, hands grappling backwards to your own ankles.

Hyunjin’s eye’s rake over every inch of exposed flesh, joined by eager fingertips. He’s careful not to venture too close to your sex, opting to leave anticipatory prickles in his lazy path up and down your thighs. Your hips rise to meet him each time, assuming that he had to have grown impatient by then. No man you’d ever met was patient for very long for any reason, so why should a prince be any different? Still as much as your body seemed to long for his touch to advance he resisted, smiling as you exhaled with a disappointed “hmph.”

“Really doesn’t take too much, does it darling? Just the proper, or improper, touch.” Hyunjin states, finally slipping a finger between your lips, gliding it back and forth, just teasing your entrance.

You sink into the motion with a gentle “oh” hardly noticing as Felix slips his unoccupied hand beneath your chamise, soft palm kneading your bosom in handfuls. “Just relax,” he continues to whisper, silky tone weaving through your cotton-y brain. “Let us take care of you. You’re capable of so much pleasure, if you just let us rule you. You can do that, right darling? You’re such a good little servant. So perfectly trained. You know how to be a good girl and take orders. It’s your duty after all, to serve us.”  The tapestry he knits with his words is an enticing one, laced with golden promises.

Your thighs threaten to collapse inwards with each nudge of your clit. Each denial becomes almost painful, your body clenching inwards to try to force yourself over the edge. Eyelids fluttering over the whites of your rolled-back eyes you beg under your breath, beg for release, beg for something to clench down on.

“Louder. Let your Prince hear what you need,” Felix hisses.

“Please, sir, it hurts. I need - so badly. I need to - I might die. I need you-”

“What do you need from me?”

“I need you inside-” your voice breaks, the words too dirty to dare utter in front of them. “Sir, I need you inside me.”

“Be more specific.”

“Fingers!” You gasp and groan as Felix pinches your pebbled nipple. “Please use them in me, sir! Please! Please.” You chant as he continues to rub his thumb back and forth over the tingling area. Every touch feels like looking over the edge of the castle wall to the turf below, churning the pit of your stomach.

Hyunjin tuts, leaning upwards, face inches from your mound. Breath held as his finger passes again over your hole, you whimper. Tongue pointed he kitten licks your swollen button before sealing his mouth over your mound. Licking and sucking at you, the persistent attention from his swirling muscle has your eyelids fluttering and hips grinding down on him, juices dripping down his chin. Your cunt pulls his finger in with each flutter of its walls, happy to have even this much to clench down on.

The arousal pooling in your gut, your body arches up, head pressing into Felix even harder and you flood the man below with your essence. Each pulse of your cunt forces a twitch from your flexed muscles as he releases you, tongue flat to eagerly lap at your core.

Hyunjin looks pleased as he pants, withdrawing from your netherregion, lips pink and plush from their hard work. “This is why we royalty come up with the solutions.”

“Yes! My Princes know how to take care of me. Thank you sir. Thank you for your care.” You cry and shake, giving your full weight plus some to Felix as you convulse with aftershocks.

Hyunjin motions for Felix to lift you gently off the armrests, letting you curl and rest at his feet. “Set your head here, darling, let me show you how good you taste,” he taps his knee, leaning forward to kiss you as you come near, lips still shining with your release. The taste is faint, his own scent almost overwhelming your senses, but not unpleasant. Gently his tongue presses at your lips, seeking permission. Swept into the moment you grant it easily, letting him explore your mouth, licking into the warmth just as he had your cunt.

As your kiss becomes more desperate, Hyunjin pulls you over him, your torso stretched over his thighs, ass stuck out into the room. You yelp into his mouth as another wriggling tongue swipes over your slit.

“She’s so sweet, no wonder you took your time with her,” Felix murmurs, drifting off as he indulges in another swipe.

“Felix,” Hyunjin breaks from you, strand of spit spanning the distance from your already fucked-out face. “I think she’s ready enough, we don’t want to break our present quite yet.” His face doubles and swims in front of you as your eyes fight to focus. Hyunjin chuckles affectionately as you stare back at him dumbly. “Darling, he’s going to fuck you now. You might want to brace yourself.” Gently he cups your head and lays your cheek to his thigh, mouth watering bulge twitching and straining against his breeches right in front of you. Forgetting yourself for a moment, you trace the print in the fabric with your forefinger. “So cute,” he coos, gently removing your hand, “but I didn’t say you could do that.”

“‘M sorry sir. I-” your thought is interrupted by the blunt tip of Felix’s cock sliding between your folds. Hand gripping Hyunjins thigh in anticipation, you wiggle your hips as Hyunjin pushes your hair away from your face to get an unobstructed view.

“Go ahead Felix, take her.”

Palm flat on your lower back he pushes into you to the hilt in one smooth motion. Your facial expressions and groans do not disappoint, eyes rolling back to the whites. The stretch is more pressure than pain, your slick easing him in with the prep work Hyunjin did to open you up.

“She’s a tight little thing,” Felix pulls back leaving only the flared tip inside of you, reveling in the way your lips hug around him as he fills you. “Every time I try to pull out she just pulls me right back in.”

Popping the front of his breeches free, Hyunjins cock springs out in front of you. It’s paradoxically thick in comparison to him curving up to his waistband, tip already glossy with smeared precum. “Give it a little taste, darling,” he says, parting your lips with his thumb, encouraging your jaw to open even further, pad petting your tongue. Tapping the head against your flattened tongue he seems pleased with the ease of your obedience. He tastes slightly salty and musky as you twirl your tongue around him. “Good girl, go ahead and wrap that little pout around me. Just like a sweet, just like that,” he holds your head steady to his thigh as he shallowly fucks into your mouth. He can’t get much depth at this angle but the vibrations from your moans and blissed out expression make up for it. Both men take up the responsibility of ragdolling you between them, Felix pulling by your hips as Hyunjin thrusts forward into your mouth, one in, one out.

Each prince sounds unique in his pleasure. Hyunjin caught in whines and hisses in tenor while Felix groans and grunts in his low baritone. Their styles of loving are also a study in contrast, Felix’s hands roaming everywhere, squeezing and squishing and massaging. Like a sculptor working putty into a masterwork. Hyunjin prefers pointed attacks and intense stares. Busy wandering the scene with his eyes. Watching the light play over your fingers as they twitch and tremor with each thrust. The shadow of the hollow of your cheek as his cock pulls from your lips. Even your eyelashes, clumped with aborted tears, sticking to your cheek for a millisecond with every flutter.

“‘M close.” Felix warns, pulling from you with a pop.

“No,” you whine and wiggle, searching after him desperately. Both men laugh.

“Turning our cute shy thing into a cockwhore in one round, I’ve got to say I’m proud.” Hyunjin also pulls from you, leaving you unoccupied for the first time in the last twenty minutes.

Unsure of what to do with yourself you nuzzle his thigh wordlessly. Sweat and juices trailing down your inner thighs your stomach hungers for more. Frustration boiling and bubbling in your chest you wiggle your hips again in hops it entices Felix back.

“You’re just so helpless without us aren’t you?” Hyunjin’s voice returns to its calm caressing tone. “Don’t worry darling, you’ll be filled soon. Do you want to come sit on me now? Would that feel good?”

You scramble into the throne, straddling the prince like an overeager mutt totally unaware that it is no longer a puppy. Even panting with your tongue out, nearly begging as your slit slides along his strained member.

“Felix, did you not fuck her hard enough? She’s practically wetting the seat with how needy she is. Humping me like a bunny in heat. Gotta make her cum harder next time so she’s nice and pliant.”

“Jeeze, you’re the one who said not to break your new toy,” Felix’s voice echos from the other end of the room. “Should be thanking me for having her so wound up.”

You whine as you rub yourself on him. Cunt aching to be filled again, your fingers feel itchy as you deny yourself the pleasure of taking him of your own accord.

“Normally I’d punish you for trying to get yourself off without my permission but,” Hyunjin shoots a glance over your shoulder. “There was some familial miscommunication which you should not pay for.” He lifts your hips off him, dick sufficiently lubricated with a mixture of spit and precum, and fits himself just inside your entrance. “Now take me nice and slow, I want to see each inch go in easy, okay?” His eyes search for your understanding. “And if you try anything funny, I’ll make sure you’re fucked so hard that you’ll be on bedrest for the next three days.” A sudden hit of venom laces his words, driving his point home.

Thighs burning you sink slowly onto him, careful not to let gravity or exhaustion accelerate your descent. The effort has you shaking, palms pressed to the armrests with the tips of your fingers going white. He whispers small praises as he watches himself fill you. How proud he is, how well you are doing, how pretty your pussy looks taking him in, what a good cocksleeve you are. Finally, finally he leans up and pulls you to his chest, groaning as he forces the last few centimeters of himself inside.

“How do you feel darling?”

“Full, sir,” you mumble, happy to pour your weight into his arms. “Good and full.” Hands on your hips he rolls you back and forth on him, coaxing another wet release from you. It has you floating, you want to be good for him. You need to be good for him. It’s only right to worship a future king as you would a god.

Hyunjin’s hands spreading your cheeks, another warm intrusion works its way against you, slick release and additional lubrication coating your holes. A small digit swirls around the second, virgin hole, briefly pressing as a test. You jolt, pussy clamping down around Hyunjin, heartbeat climbing rapidly. “Relax, just trust us, we know best, right? Didn’t it feel so good before when Felix got you all nice and ready. He’ll be just as gentle. It’s his nature after all. Just put your head on my shoulder like a good girl and relax.”

Following his instructions you curl onto his shoulder, hands gripping his biceps. As the intrusion works its way into you, pulling back and inching forward with each thrust, you try to focus on him. His smell, his aura, his nerves of steel. His murmurs vibrate against your ear, tickling pleasantly. A second digit is added as you whimper and bury your face in his neck.

“No no, darling. I need to see your face at least a little,” Hyunjin nudges you from the warm juncture with his chin. “Especially for this next part.” He winks at Felix.

Felix who has been grunting lowly under his breath with each effort he makes to stretch you just enough. He presses the head of his cock to your twitching entrance pushing himself until just the head squeezes past the tight ring. Your face screws up cutely with the initial pain, lip quivering. Felix tries to make it more comfortable, slowly massaging your lower back as he rocks himself with your whimpers.

The pain has your head spinning while the overwhelming fullness numbs it. From clamping down around nothing to being stretched to the point where clenching would lead to misery you’ve run the gambit. As he settles a peaceful expression covers your face. Eyelids closed, brows unknit, lips just barely parted as your jaw hangs loosely.

You gurgle happily. “Is this what being with a Prince is like?”

“No darling, this is what being with a god is like.”

“I should worship you.”

“You should. But today, for being so especially precious, we will spoil you.”

Felix leans over, joining your and Hyunjins heads. “Let us treat you.” Both men start to rock opposite each other again. Their cocks are only separated by a thin wall. There isn’t much else you can do but take it, as the coo and caress and bounce you back and forth. Your body is frozen as you chase another orgasm, lower belly and tops of your thighs tensing and shaking as more arousal splashes from you and coats their skin. Everything they do to you is gentle followed by a small reminder of their ownership. A nuzzle followed by a harsh bruising suck of your skin. A loving hand massaging your ass cheek before smacking it. Somewhere between heaven and earth your mind floats in paradise.

“I can’t take any more. I really can’t. I can’t sirs.” Your eyelids are so heavy you think you might pass out. It wouldn’t be the worst thing either, to be taken into the blessed dark as your Princes have their way.

“You can, I know you can, you’re such a good girl. One more for us.” Felix mumbles in his deep bass, pressing kisses to your shoulder and neck. “Hold her for me,” he groans airily. “I’m close,”

Hyunjin’s hands move to the tops of your thighs, locking you down to his lap. “Might want to hold onto something, darling,” he gestures to the armrests as Felix leans back from you. That was all the warning you received, Felix’s hips suddenly snapping into you with a brutal pace. Your body fights itself, not sure if it should contract inwards or try to expand outwards, leaving you jittering between white knuckles and splayed palms. Words you’d only heard the stablehands shout as they shoveled flew from your mouth, much to the delight of the men inside of you.

“Keep going ‘lixie, she’s fucked. Nothing inside that pretty little head.”

Felix’s grunts turn into small high pitched whines. His sweat drips from his forehead as he wraps himself around you, head buried in the crook of your neck. Every inch of your body spasms, thighs, ass, cunt, arms, every muscle tensing and pulsing all at once, white hot. He spills into you panting and swearing.

“Better be able to hold her for me now, or are you too weak hm?” Hyunjin taunts, letting go of your thighs.

“I can-” Felix breathlessly pulls you tighter into his arms, arms crossing your chest to brace you against his chest.

Hyunjin fucks you with equal ferocity, bouncing your body up against Felix like you were made of rubber and not flesh and bone. Felix pulls your hair back, strands sticking to the drool and tears escaping from you.

“I think you broke her, Hyune.”

You gurgle dumbly, eyes blurred and mouth open.

Hyunjin doesn’t bother talking, teeth gritted, mesmerized by the scene in front of him. Looking to the heavens, face relaxed as though you could see your soul floating inches above you, a perfect subject, a perfect vessel. Your walls clamp around him fluttering and pulsing and pulling him, proof of his superiority. Even at base level your body was desperate to have his children, desperate to ensure it took. With a gasp he spilled deep within you, granting your body it’s well earned prize.

“Let ‘er go.”

Felix slips from you, letting your chest fall into Hyunjin’s arms again. “Good enough exercise for the day?”

Hyunjin nods.

“Good idea - specially asking for her - best birthday ever.”

Part II

#hyunjin smut #felix smut #hwang hyunjin smut #lee felix smut #skz hyunjin smut #skz felix smut #stray kids hyunjin smut #stray kids felix smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #smut request #anon requested #thanks for being my first request ever anon #i hope this lives up to what you want!

[purgatory-if]

demo (tba) | faq | masterpost (you are here.) | art cred @aykaypee

You’re in danger, and every fiber of you knows it.

You’re sure, by now, that no matter what you do you won’t be able to stop it. Maybe that’s a good thing.

...This is the end.

You wish you had something that would remember you.

... YOUR life is a mystery to you when you wake up in the sunny fields of Purgatory. Apparently death isn't supposed to be a full memory wipe to the soul, but that's no problem, right? There's usually some sort of record kept of this kind of thing. If not for special cases like yours, then at the very least for organizational purposes. You're told all of that, assured that nothing is wrong and that this jsut 'happens' sometimes up until the moment they look for yur death and find nothing to speak of. Nothing of your life, either, just to make a bad time even worse.

Without knowing anything like this, it's safe to say that it'll be impossible to pass on. The underworld isn't built for fringe cases like you and even if it was, not even knowing who you were is disconcerting at best and cause for crisis at worst.

So alright. It shouldn't be too hard to find out how one person died, right? Detectives and story characters do it all the time- and now you have all the time in the world.

You should, anyways.

... FEATURES include:

play as a seriously unlucky pc whose cause of death depends on which route you decide to pursue

be whoever you want to be! standard for ifs nowadays; things such as pronouns, general appearance, personality all that jazz

8 romance options (mostly fem/non-binary, 1 option you can choose the gender of) and the ability to play as aro and/or ace

at least 4 poly romance routes!

love me some good vanity stats! vanity stats

get recruited (read: forced) into a 9-5 where time isn't real

beat up time

really symbolic mythology! i could write a goddamn essay on these fuckers

... PURGATORY is recommended for players over the age of 15, though I’m not going to police what you do on the internet. The game will contain major character death and death of all kinds, what is probably sacrilege, memory loss, fantasy violence, potentially sexually suggestive scenes and dialogue (hi ama.), morally dubious behaviour, and more. In-depth content warnings for each chapter and specific routes will be released at a later date.

... 'MAIN' CHARACTERS

THE DIVINE.

Angel (prns selectable) / Witty, charismatic, more than a little bloodthirsty, there's a certain volatility about someone who is Fate embodied. While they take their time on the many, many field missions necessary for stability in the multiverse or whatever very seriously, they'll put their restless passion into anything if it catches their eye for long enough.

Achlys (they/them) / Death itself, stoic and sharp and more than a little intimidating, it's hard not to let their mere presence get under your skin. While it would be nice to say that's not an intentional effect, the only unintentional thing about them is the fact that they're down here, of all places. They seem to be making the best of it.

Esme (they/them) / An angel in what is certainly an analogy for hell, classic, isn't it? They're little more than a shambling mess in a skirt if we're being honest, oh so scared of any shadow that moves in the corner of their vision. They truly do wear their heart on their sleeve, which seems to be an invitation for some to try and stop its frantic beat.

Amaterasu (she/they) / Don't let her meet your parents, is the only advice I'd give, because she'd be gunning for at least a threesome by the time starters are served. Unflinchingly forward and seductive, they're horribly charming in the most impermanant of ways. There's nothing she'll shy away from trying sooner or later, it seems, in or out of the bedroom.

THE MORTALS.

Viviana Alatorre (she/her) / Businesslike. Some people really don't change when they die, and going to this office just means you see the sun less on your coimmute. She doesn't appear to be dead, or alive, something in the middle. Out of everyone here, she's probably the most terrifying. Even more than the death god, probably because she's actively working towards terror.

Ailbhe Kahinu (she/it) / There's nothing that troubles Ailbhe, and it wouldn't be concerning if she was... y'know, dead. In the face of certain terror, it faces things with a shrug and a sigh. At least she's good-natured about this whole thing, being dragged down here by both her girlfriend (Vivi) and her sister (Rahley). The prices here are better than aboveground, anyways.

Rahley Kahinu (she/her) / Rahley's been compared to a robot more than one time, and while the comparison probably wasn't in good faith that doesn't mean it was necessarily wrong. She's intensely focused on her work, and her skill in that department seems to have drained her ability in things like basic conversation and empathy. So it goes.

M Blankenship (prns selectable) / Previously called 'Hit 'N Run' in the world of roller derby, the violent nickname seems odd on someone as cheerful as M. They act as a sort of tour guide for souls entering the Underworld proper instead of hanging around Purgatory, and it's hard to say their easy extroversion makes them anything worse than great at their job.

THE CONSTANTS.

Stratos C. Lusse (he/him) / The eternal guide to Purgatory for souls lost, souls found and all who are inbetween. He seems to have been here the longest--minus all of the deities, of course.

Octavia Hardin (she/her) / The part-time guide to Purgatory. She seems more likely to throw your soul into damnation if you cross her or anybody she cares about. Stay on her good side!

Salem Astor (she/her) / She would be a romance option if I had the energy to code in a shop feature. But I don't. So she runs free through the city.

Abbadon (prns selectable) / Personification of the past. If anyone can help you figure out what the hell happened to you, then they should be the one to go to. Sometime in the next 5 centuries would be ideal.

Maliel (prns selectable) / Personification of the future. Again, probably someone who can find out in a second what you'll know when you figure out this mystery, if you're able to find them at a good time. The woes of being a primordial deity.

...and more! Probably. Co-workers, pirates, other deities but this is running long.

#if: intro #interactive fiction #if game #if wip #choice of games #interactive game #twine game #twine if #interactive novel #twine wip #purgatory if #masterpost

[ladybirdswritings]

Silken Webs & Pirouettes - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary - Miguel is forced to dwell over the consequences of his own actions. Ballerina!Reader & CEO!Miguel. Alternate Universe with most of the characters included as seen in "Across the Spiderverse." Many cameos ahead. Miguel is a successful business owner but personality is canon. This is a steamy reader insert, Miguel x You! Enjoy and pls leave me lots of love and comments as it keeps me motivated <333

next chapter

seven ,, miguel’s POV

“You have some cojones, Miguel O’Hara.”

My eyes slowly lift from the place where they were once glued, the small tree. It still stands, the shattered and jagged bite of glass the most unavoidable ornament. Right in the enter for my eyes to see.

It’s been a week, one week of plain, suffocating normality. No clumsy girl, no doe eyes that I can only seem to fill with tears. No intimidating someone who I can’t guess the reaction of, no excitement.

My girls must feel it too. Maybe they liked having those stupid ribbons and pearly white smile bouncing around the office. Maybe they liked the distraction. Too bad. It’s better this way…

“Jessica, mi amor— though I always enjoy your visits in with me-”

She raises a suspicious brow at my words but I continue before she takes the first chance she can to interrupt me, as always…

“Today isn’t the day.” It really, truly fucking isn’t.

I sound apathetic, unbothered. Truthfully, I am bothered. I am bothered because it's been a week and yet I feel this uncomfortable burning at my mind. It’s inhuman, unnatural. I’ve yelled at dozens before, girls even sweeter than her. Girls with pretty eyes and pouty lips, melting into expressions of horror and sorrow. It was expected, needed. They needed to become better, to not be weak.

So why the fuck do I feel like I was in the wrong this time?

Jessica, coiled locks tamed back with a headband and stomach protruding with her soon to be first-born, she huffs as she sits down on my corner chair.

“This still work?” She asks. Stupid question. I regard her with dark, annoyed eyes and a single nod. She immediately presses the button, then heat and vibrations engulf her. She moans in content, enjoying the ease of tension in her back from carrying that child around.

“Oh yeah, it does. God I love this thing.” Her voice is vibrating.

Good, she should. It’s for her anyways. There’s no other moody, bossy and inhumanly hungry pregnant woman in sight. Gracias a Dios. Me mataría.

She’s distracted, I believe for a second that maybe I’ve just been saved by that expensive fucking chair but oh no, lately I’m just proving to be an unlucky bastard. She talks again.

“Where was I… oh yeah, that’s the problem, Miguel. It’s never the day with you. But shit, when I get curious and decide to check those security tapes and see you caging a small girl against the wall and making her hunch over in fear? Today is gonna have to be the day. What the fuck happened to morale? Why couldn’t you take it out on Moon, on someone we know, at least.” She doesn’t understand, I don’t expect her to.

I narrow my eyes, lifting from my seat. I don’t like being on her level. I feel suffocated there, with all these questions. Boss of my own empire and yet I’m getting an inquisition by a woman I hired. Regardless, my mind is clearer when I stare out at the city, looking down at all those people. I feel big, powerful. Like I know everything. I do, mostly. This time though? I don’t.

Me está volviendo loco.

And that’s because of that fucking girl. Es un misterio, un enigma. Never in my life have I sat across from someone I don’t fucking understand. I didn’t get this successful from not understanding the idiots around me, no. But her? I didn’t expect the dramatics.

“I don’t always like what I have to do, but I know I have to be the one to do it. Involving my personal life into her work is not only inappropriate but it is disrespectful.” I sound uninterested, lazed with my words. I know Jessica, they won’t be enough for her.

“You know what’s inappropriate? Your employees watching Lacy walk into your office in shorts that barely cover her nonexistent ass. You think they don’t know you’re banging her in between meetings?”

My jaw ticks, and I exhale all the air from my lungs through my nose.

“I know they know.”

I do. I do and I don’t give a shit what they think. I have urges, needs. No, not wants. Needs. Uncontrollable, demanding. My eyes glaze over my window, memories of fucking Lacy here with her pretty tits hung for the world to see. The thought brings me peace.

Jessica leans forward or tries too with that protruded stomach of hers.

“Oh you do. Okay, right. So that’s okay but a picture of Gabby isn’t?”

Gabby.

Mi princesa.

The name is like the crown on Medusa’s head. But I don’t let it freeze me, no. I don’t let it stop me from moving. Working. Breathing. Reacting. I react. I react before it can stop me and if that stupid girl would’ve done as she was told, she wouldn’t have had to be on the other side of those reactions.

I hate it.

Fucking hate it when they utter her name. Jessica… she’s lucky she’s pregnant and lucky she’s Jessica because coño, I would case her up against the wall too if she wasn’t.

“No, Jessica. It’s not okay. Lacy equates to a fucking— masseuse.” I snap.

“She’s massaging something alright.” She interjects.

“Carajo.” I exhale, reaching angrily at my silk handkerchief and tossing it with force to the leather loveseat. There’s no winning with her. Back in my throne, I collapse.

She’s infuriating, and she’s lecturing me over a girl that was only here for a week and has already caused so much trouble. Me está dando vueltas la cabeza.

“What is it Jessica, huh? What— are you dumbstruck by her stupid ribbons and worn-out clothes too?” It’s the only explanation for this. The girl must be a witch.

She sucks her teeth at that,

“Nope. I never even met the girl. Seems like it’s you that’s dumbstruck.”

Me?

That thought… it’s stupid.

My fists clench, a sting of pain burning at the place where she dug those nails into me. There’s skin dented there.

“Cállate.” I warn. But she’s Jessica. She’s not Mary Jane, not Cindy or any of my other obedient girls. Es un dolor de cabeza.

To no surprise, she does anything but shut the fuck up.

“Look, I could give less of a shit if your dick does a dance for her or not—”

“Dios mío…” She’s gone crazy.

“My point is— we don’t know her. We don’t know her, and she could talk. She could tell the story of how you emotionally and fuck— almost physically assaulted her to the Bugle and then what?”

I shake my head at that. She’s fucking wrong.

“I would never put my hands on her.” Not her. Not any woman.

Jessica displays two defeated palms up in the air, annoyance laced in their lines.

“But ya did, Miguel. You did when you grabbed her chin. And wether you and I know that it was softly or not, it doesn’t fucking matter. It’s about what they believe, what they see and you look psychotic on that tape.”

I turn my face from her, grinding my teeth as I search my mind for a way to answer back. To explain.

I can’t. I can’t and it makes me angrier.

“You’re not invincible, Miguel. People get tired of your shit and we agreed. We agreed that if you kept the reins on your issues, it would be enough. You don’t have to come to the gatherings or the holiday meetings. They know you don’t give a shit about any of them-”

“They’re employees.” I interrupt. Their job is to follow my orders and keep smiles on their pretty faces. That is morale.

“Yeah, they’re employees and they don’t get paid enough to deal with your shit.”

My eyes say it all, she knows that’s not true. Their checks are full. My girls have paid off debt, bought houses, taken vacations and bought all their materialistic heart desire. Some within their first year with me. Jessica sighs, shaking her head at my stubbornness. Silence blankets us and I fucking prefer it that way.

“My point is that people can walk, Miguel. They can walk when they aren’t happy. When they read the outsiders input on your bad behavior. Nobody wants to work for an asshole and fuck, I don’t blame her for walking out. Actually, I respect her for it. The girl’s shoes are practically falling off of her feet and she’s wearing skirts in the winter, yet it looks like she’d rather starve on those ice-cold New York City streets than work for someone who spits on her effort and time.”

Her words strike me silent. It seems like Jessica Drew is the only one who can make me have nothing to say. Què maravilla. I won’t admit that it’s because she’s right. She isn’t.

…

She might be.

My silence, it prompts her to continue. She shuts the seat off, groaning as she stands to her feet. She waddles to me, one hand on my cherrywood desk as she bows her head to speak to me.

“Look, I know this shit isn’t easy. I get that. You and I? We’re day ones. Peter and I watched you build this company up from the ground. We watched you make something of yourself. The bastard kid out of Nueva York turned into the bastard man above it. And I- … I lost her too, Miguel. Lost her. I didn’t forget her, and I sure as fuck don’t want to run from her. If someone was so fucking kind enough to put effort into making me that—”

Her eyes glow golden as they fall upon the small tree, on the shattered ornament with that beautiful, delicate smile. My girl. Against my own will, I find myself stuck, gazing at it too.

“Shit, maybe I’d promote them. That? That’s special, it’s kind. Most people don’t have the guts to do that, especially not for a boss— let alone a new one… but as always, you’ve laid down the cement on yet another grave. No chance in hell she comes back, no chance we fix this before Jameson gets his dirty hands on it.”

Jameson. Maldito cerdo.

It was his men that he sent out that day. All of them gathered up on my doorstep like fucking vultures, flashing their lights at the place where my baby girl just— fuck...

He was a lucky son of a bitch that day. I would’ve snapped that cockroach’s neck if it weren’t for Murdock.

Fuck…

I don’t like loose ends. No, I don’t like being wrong. I strive every day of my life to be anything but it. I was wrong once. And look what it cost me? My baby’s life. I won’t make the same mistake again. Not with my company.

Sure as hell not because of the balding bastard and a delicate girl with ribbons in her hair.

No.

“I’ll convince her.” I will. I’ll mail her check with a note attached. An invitation back. Maybe I’ll raise her pay. She could use it, anyway.

But Jessica fucking Drew. Always finding microscopic holes in my plans. She laughs at me.

She fucking laughs at me as she straightens her back, hands resting on the place where her baby kicks.

“Sure, good luck with that. She might’ve hunched over and cried but damn— I saw the way she dug those nails into you. She’s a tough one… besides, I think it’s best If you keep away. Don’t wanna make their new front cover story more interesting.”

Que mierda.

I raise my hand, pinching at the place where tension pools between my brows. Fucking Jessica. Analytical, frustrating, and always convinced she’s right.

She is tough… that girl. Un fuego.

I saw it when she sat in my chair and dug her nails into it, and I saw it when she dug her nails into me. I saw it when she pushed my hand away, straightened up and wiped those tears off her pretty face like they were nothing more than meaningless water on her skin. She turned her back on me. No one ever does. No one has ever not succumbed to my hand. And she’s lucky, I never offer comfort to any of the girls I yell at. No, they don’t need it. They’d accept it, regardless. Not her.

Un enigma.

Jessica sighs, turning from me and finally leaving me to be. Leaving me with no solutions, only loose ends. She must feel my eyes burning holes into her back. Frustrated fucking holes. She stops.

Carajo.

I sigh now, allowing my eyes to fall shut into the comfort of darkness. A place behind my lids where no Jessica Drew exists.

“There’s another gathering tonight, actually. Perfect way to win your people back before you even lose them.”

She’s smiling, she’s proud of her stupid little idea. I don’t need to open my eyes to see it. The ache in my neck makes my head fall into my palms— and though every part of me wants to tell her to get out?

“What time, Jessica?”

🏷️’s: @reirain @needybitez @migueloharastruelove @laysmt @maomaimao @daisy-artfield @poutysprouty @chorizobeets @luvlylaurakisses @to-the-endoftheline @bimb00

#miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel smut #miguel 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel o hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara masterlist #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fluff #au!miguel o’hara #spider man 2099 #spider man #across the spiderverse #Spotify

[callsignvenomcod]

baby boy

Prompt: Reader's Simon childhood love from Manchester. Or Simon's past catches up with him on a random patrol day.

One shot based on the song "Baby boy" by Childish Gambino.

warnings: parent abandonment, age gap couple.

______________________________________________________________

It was an agreement.

It was a civil agreement made between two responsible adults in the best benefit of a third party. It was supposed to be easy, the best way to come to terms with it, but as he was going to learn later in life, nothing came easy for Simon Riley. Or anyone unlucky or dumb enough to stick around with him.

He secretly always imagined how it would be like to see her again. It was a pleasure he reserved for lonely nights, for really long desert crawls, for the frail moments, suspended in air, between standing at the edge of a helicopter door and the decisive jump. He always imagined alternative universes in which he actually had a lucky star, in which he actually had a chance at life, at happiness, at being domestic, nothing but a fat house cat.

Simon met the girl in the butcher shop. He took the first job he could get his hands on. It wasn't bad. Not bad, bad.

Where else? Girls like her didn't walk around his side of town, but they all had to eat; and cutting up carnage and splashing around blood, that he could do. She walked into the Butcher's, making the little bell on top of the door ding, and Simon knew, with as much certain that he knew that one day he would die, that his life had changed forever.

He was scarred but the light inside him still worked. Simon had skeletons in his closet, but he was doing such a good job at keeping them at bay. When she walked into the butcher's, fivers in her hand, Simon could stand up straight, could spare a few small smiles, could keep the voices in his mind at peace, for the brief interactions, the shared smiles and pleasantries, the "What's your name?", "You from around?" and "What time you get off?", the way the girl tried so very hard to divert her gaze from the blood stained apron.

It led to so much more. She worked half time at a chippy, and they did good. They did really good for a couple conformed by a Manchester alley kid and the fucking angel that she was. He was in love, and therefore he was in trouble, because no one was around to teach him how to deal with a swollen heart about to burst; and with an outside world that was made of needles and pins.

He liked the way her smile tilted up whenever she was directing it to him, the way she would sit down at a stool in the butcher's, waiting for him to get off shift, just so he could walk her home. Liked the way her skin felt under his rugged hands, how soaked she would get through grey panties, how he drank her saliva right off her lips and how she whispered how much she loved him, actually, truly, loved him, while he was trying his best not to cum in his pants, short breath, in the living room of her house, while her mother was upstairs watching Channel 4, willing to overlook the fact that Simon was a bit (or a lot) older than her daughter because she had never seen her so happy.

And they loved each other. He can say it; it doesn't hurt, doesn't embarrass him either; if anything, he feels unusually lucky his nostalgia makes him wonder at nights, patrolling the barracks or in this case, a small English city, with so many men and women who looked like the people he grew up with.

Then 9/11 happened, and it was too big to ignore, too big to drink away, and she cried when saying goodbye to him on the train station on his way to join, and she knew deep down inside her that Simon Riley was not the kind of man that would turn around to give her one last glance before disappearing into the military for a few months. It was a higher calling, something bigger than him, a reason to get away, from his childhood home that was wrecking, from his father, from something hungry that lived inside of him and was getting out of control.

She called him the minute she way Tommy starting to get bad. She was younger, younger than Tommy even and had reached out to a cabin to dial the number he gave her "for emergencies only", and she told him how Tommy had been stealing from their mum, stumbling around alleys with the wrong crowd, leaving Beth a crying mess in her room, looking too much like Daddy.

That's when he came back. Took a train in the January rain and fixed his whole house up. Picked up his mum from the hoarder state she was in, kicked common sense into his baby brother and simultaneously kicked his old man out. Never to be seen again.

Y/N's watched from the courtside every moment; watched as Simon cleaned up vomit from Tommy's chin, while Beth's belly swollen with a baby, and she cooked porridge while Simon allowed his mum to cry on his chest for hours and hours, victim of the detox, of the night horrors, and herself. All of them became the new Riley's in a way, and she stopped going home to her mother, just crashing at Simon's twin size mattress, in his childhood bedroom that still had the Man U posters on the walls and a beaten-up Walkman CD player.

-I couldn't do this without you...- Simon had whispered after a particularly difficult night that involved Tommy screaming and Beth threatening to throw herself off the stairs. They were lying in bed in their underwear, cozied up together, warm limbs and tangled sheets, staring at the fading glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. She turned on her side, staring at his nose drawn by the shadows. His warm, yet tired eyes, looked back at her and they shared a sorry excuse of a smile before they could share a kiss.

They were in the shit, and the girl on his too small bed was in it for the laughs of it, for a chance to sleep by his side. For that thing they called love.

Winter arrived. The house was freezing still, but they could afford heating now. Now Tommy was paid up for, and he was a butcher at the groceries, and Beth stayed home with Mum and Jacob, the baby. He was skinny for a newborn, the doctors said, but he will catch up with breastfeeding. Simon was a best man at the wedding, but he didn't give a speech. Y/N's was maid of honor, but only because Beth had no other friends. The photos never lie, and you can see Simon with the longest hair he's ever had, in a fitted suit, stern look, a girl clinging from his arm, a baby brother hugging him, a mother with crinkles, a sister-in-law elegantly 9 months pregnant in a wedding dress.

For a moment it was nice, and the future was looking bright. He got a taste of what life could have been like if the stars would have been kind to them. He would wake up early to jog and would see the back of Tommy's head while he left for work, and almost every day his mum would be up, carrying around Jacob in a bathrobe. Beth would cook breakkie and Y/N's would always ask him if he wanted red or brown sauce even if she knew that he wanted brown.

It could have been...good. Great, even. But instead of that it was real life.

He left for Ukraine a few days after he learned she was pregnant with his child; and he thanked every damn God or Goddess he knew of when he learned that everyone was dead except her; her mum falling ill and asking her to take care of her in her childhood house. The blood didn't reach her; she still didn't pay for loving Simon. He became radioactive after that and closed his ears to any plea, to any love confession and promise of safety. He wanted her to hate him, to want him away, he wanted her to have an abortion, she wanted a baby. A baby with him. His baby.

"A part of me and you", she said, "something ours. Untouchable."

But they weren't untouchable, were they? He had scars for days to prove it, coffins, even a child size one, night horrors, a medal, had proof every time he closed his eyes, had nightmares about how many people had touched him and everyone near him. It was a no brainer.

When Price told 141 about this patrolling mission, he would be lying if he said that a shiver ran down his spine and he heard bells for a couple of minutes before forcing himself to come back to the briefing reunion. There was always a chance.

While everyone thought that Ghost would be at least thrilled at the prospect of going back to the UK, Price kept a close eye on him. He knew he was only a few years older than Simon, and his boss as well, but they had seen hell together and survived it. The captain cared for his team, cared, weather he wanted to admit it or not.

Truth was that he wanted to say he knew all about the men he worked with, but that would be a lie, a lie every captain said once in a while. He knew, for example, that Johnny "Soap" MacTavish had two older sisters in Fort Augustus, Scotland, Mary and Ava. He knew Roach had a horrible fear of clowns for some accident in a party all those years ago, Nikolai, Yuri, he had facts about them too.

He knew, for example, that somewhere in England, Ghost had a kid. A baby boy.

Every month, a generous amount of his paycheck went to a throwaway account in the Bank of England, more than half. And he had listed a minor for healthcare and schooling, housing military benefits, The name was Alfie Riley, listed as Alfie Smith; and he was 6 years old.

Simon knew he knew. He trusted that upon him, not out of pure friendship or companionship, but maybe with a hint of letting him know that if it leaked, he had no problem into taking the business into his own hands. There was only so much you could stretch a person without breaking it, and if anything happened to the boy, Price knew it would be Simon's point of no return. A monster would be born or rather, let out of the cage.

Sometimes he thought about it while staring at him on a briefing. Sometimes he tried not to.

-Right. The intel we have on this cell comes from the right source. Our man says this human trafficking cell operates within the church compounds. He believes it has something to do with the orphanage...

Captain Price's voice boomed through the briefing room designated in the security house. They had arrived a few days ago, and it looked as if the whole city of Salisbury took a deep breath at the presence of military men and women. For sure it was an odd view, big bulky men walking around the country fields, around town, asking questions, smiling, blank faces, new voices and sights; but they knew, at least, the problems the community had been facing, will now come to an end finally. The 141 was going to help with that. They were the good lads.

-So split up, ask around. They know were here. - Price said, staring at Gaz from behind his desk; giving the order and finishing the meeting. Soap and Simon bantered around something as they usually did. He sighed, watching as Simon stared dead in front of him while the younger soldier tried to get inside his head. -Kyle, you're with me. Let Bert and Ernie fetch for themselves. - he sentenced, and that was that.

They were sent to walk around Salisbury. They could see the warmth of people's lives, a few kids crossing the street, a teenager in love, dogs being walked, girls staring at windows with headphones on, daydreaming. It was a life so far from the one they had, from the one they choose when they were too young, that is seemed foreign, alien. Johnny MacTavish smiled at walkers who stared at the vest, or his stupid haircut, whatever that catches their sight first.

Salisbury was a small city, one of the smallest in England, actually, and Simon had never been there before this mission. There was a church in every corner, much like Cornwall, but it lacked the shore and the salt in the water. It was Johnny who did all the talking anyway; what, with being younger, less imponent, with the thick Scottish accent that made everyone pay attention, either to help or to even try to understand what he was saying. Specially since Johnny actually had a face to show, and a friendly one.

Right now, Simon was backup, right now he was deuteragonist.

Simon limits himself to lean against one of the local pastries shop fronts, while Johnny walked inside. He thinks that right now would be a great time to have picked up the habit of smoking, to pass the time, to measure it in cigarettes, but a troubled childhood and several fading little dot scars on his arms remind him how repulsed he was by cigarettes. So, he stares at the road in front of him, at the other shops, at the people that stare back at him because of-fucking-course, he's wearing a skull balaclava, and he's 6'2, and he's a crucial part of the army party that erupted in Salisbury a few days ago, asking questions, taking names.

It takes him a minute or two to realize what's going on. It was an agreement. Part ways, stay in the country to get the benefit, but never let each other know where they were. When Simon died, a letter would arrive, a letter with his dog tags and she will see it fit to know what to do next.

-Fucking hell...- he muttered and sprung up like a slinky. He panicked for a few moments before realizing even if she stared right at him, she couldn't recognize him; she would only see a dirty, dusty skull balaclava and black grease over his eyes.

She would not see Simon, the boy that left her a few years ago, he wouldn't see Simon the man who simply stood there while she was trying to level with him on raising the kid together, to be a family, and she wouldn't see Simon, the man who did what he had to do. Who erased his own face from the world, who spared them both, Y/N's and Alfie, of a life of wondering when they were going to be kidnapped, hurt or killed.

Men like Simon were not meant to have a family, to have people to depend on them, not like this, not this close, because in the blink of an eye, shit would hit the fan and things like Manchester massacre would happen again and again and again. He would be left firing his gun to an empty field with nothing ticking inside his chest. It was better this way.

But nothing could prepare him for this moment. It was a sick joke of destiny, really, to be stationed in one of the smallest cities in England, and for her to be standing right across the street, holding their son in her arms, looking both sides, like a good mum, before letting her white keds touch the pavement.

Alfie was a brunette. It made sense; and if this was lighter, he would roll his eyes and the bowl cut the kid had, which combined with their missing could be a picture-perfect description of a rascal. Except he didn't know a thing about Alfie other that he had been to the doctors twice past month, one to the dentist, one to the medic. Stomachache. 10 pounds for tablets. Simon didn't know if he was a rascal or not, if he had friends or didn't, if he was in trouble at school or not, didn't know his favorite show or his favorite color, what he wanted to be when he grew up. All he knew was that he loved him, it didn't matter that the kid will never hear from him or meet him. Simon loved them enough to remove himself from their lives. To give them a chance that he was denied from the beginning.

His P.O. box said that he got letters once in a while, from different cities in England, and you didn't have to be a genius to figure out who wrote to him. He only ever picked up one, and it was simply a polaroid. It was her, and it was his son, and she was smiling at the camera with very tired eyes, an oversized shirt, and messy hair, and Alfie was on her lap, missing teeth, bowl cut, space shirt, freckled face full of birthday cake. A candle in the shape of the number 6.

Little hands, little feet, tiny heart, tiny beat

It was better this way. He would repeat himself that every morning as soon as he woke up in a barrack, instead of a military housing, alone and cold, instead of next to her and warm with the heat of her body. Sneaking a quick fuck with the love of his life before the kid two doors down woke up.

It was better this way. She would walk right past him, not knowing that the soldier in front of the pastries shop learned every curve in her body, every freckle, the birthmark in her right rib; He would thank his mask once again, and let his eyes wonder at the way she struggled with her bag, with still holding Alfie in her arms, while trying to stay alert.

It was better this way. A grenade will reach him, or the enemy, Ali Baba, a Russian, a Mexican, another Brit, the son or daughter or brother or best friend of someone he fucked up in the past. Cancer, a snake.

A heart failure at 70, a bullet at 41. He would die eventually, and they will give him his dog tags, and he will have a slight discomfort knowing his father died, but that's it. Like learning an actor from your childhood died of age; sad, but irrelevant. The day will go on.

It was better this way. She will fall in love again, with a bank clerk, or a veterinarian or Alfie's football coach. Someone else will teach Alfie how to be a father, will tie his shoelaces, will talk to him about girls, about fist fights, will buy him his first pint. It was better this way; Y/N's will tell him about him someday and he will look for him, or not, he will understand or not, he will hate him, forgive him, love him, in that order, or not.

It was better this way. It was.

There was a time before you, and there will be a time after you. With these vibes or not, walk tall, little man, walk tall.

It was better this way. His breath would get caught up in his throat as he saw Y/N's try to control the child, placing him on the ground, holding his hand while she looked inside her bag for something. And Alfie's blue eyes would wonder his surroundings, piercing his father's heart without knowing so. Simon wouldn't move, Alfie neither, but they would stare at each other for a few seconds before the kid broke out in a smile, tugging at his mother's hand, saying something in a squeaky voice, with a south accent, tiny index finger pointing at Ghost's skull mask. He had his mother's smile, but those eyes were all Simon.

Y/N looked up, finally finding some keys on her bag before returning her attention to the boy latched to her hand and she will also look at Simon without knowing so. The woman would frown for a moment, before giving up a quivering smile, murmuring something to the kid, pulling him to the opposite direction. And for Alfie, that was going to be it. The day went on. The man stood there thinking he couldn't do this with her, he shouldn't, and every attempt to reach out was an attempt against his kin. That there were some people that shouldn't be a father, like his own father, like his father's father.

She turned around a few times, locking eyes with the man in the balaclava before disappearing into the street, mixing up with the people walking by; the coats and the jackets. And Simon gulped down nervous saliva, suddenly needing to lean on the wall a bit more than he wanted to admit.

It was better this way.

______________________________________________________________

Hello! Venom here.

This is the first time I write for the COD fandom and for Ghost Riley. An absolute menace, I think he is. Please let me know what you think about it and give me a follow if you liked it.

Thank you :)

#simon riley #cod headcanons #cod mw2 x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #cod #x reader #reader insert #dad simon

[icyowl]

Phantom Limb Pain

Pairing: Vash the Stampede x reader

Synopsis: Self-explanatory. Helping Vash deal with phantom limb pain. 1k

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

In many ways Vash was both the luckiest and unluckiest person alive. He was lucky because, well, he was still alive, firstly, but also because he was (mostly) healthy, fed, sheltered from the blistering wind, with you, and nestled away in the back of a tavern largely out of sight of the rest of the patrons. He was, however, unlucky in that he didn't have a place to stay for the night, hadn't had one in about two weeks, couldn't convince you to stay away from him to stay safe, and his own body had begun to betray him. . . again.

“Vash?” You said to lift his head from where it rested on the tabletop. His posture looked very different from what it was when you'd left to get drinks. Hunched, visibly taught even with his coat, flesh-hand discretely fisted under the shadow of the table. He didn't bother to move even when he knew you were there.

“Is it hurting again?” You asked. He nodded as much as he could. When it truly drove him mad, he became eerily silent. You couldn't have this — Vash immobilized to the point of turning mute, afraid to show you and resigning to a silent suffering. “What kind of hurting?” You tried.

Quiet, breathless, he finally replied: “Like someone's got it in a grinder.”

His tone just about broke you. Out of all the outlaws, vagabonds, and backstabbers, he deserved this the least. “Tell me how I can help.”

At last he looked up. There was a little more water in his eyes than normal; and if a man of much suffering had been pushed this far? It had to be bad. Vash's eyes were especially round with sorrow — perhaps as much to have to ask you for help as to endure the pain — and his voice was almost consumed by the raucous of the tavern. “Rub the other one? The way you like to do it?”

You pulled your stool right in front of his until your knees were overlapping. His glasses slipped off easily when you pulled them from his ears and put them on the table.

“What if people see?”

“They're too drunk to talk, Vash, don't worry about them seeing us.”

He was always scared to attract unwanted attention. Any person could be the wrong person; they could hurt you, cast both of you out into the desert, bristling with nighttime cold, or hail a swat of police to chase you for days. Vash had just gotten you out of the elements and into this tavern even if for just a few hours.

You grabbed his human hand wordlessly and stretched it out. One of your hands held onto his wrist while the other began to squeeze and massage the bicep and tricep. Anything to distract from the pain. “This doesn't usually happen unless you're stressed. What's up?”

“I'm alright, I—”

“Vash.” You cut off with a sudden, grating edge to your voice, still moving down his bicep with rhythmic pulls. “We've talked about this. Don't make me force you to do your affirmations in the back of a bar.” He knows you mean it, remembers the time you had him do it in a bathroom through his tears, another time after waking up with a breathless jolt in the deep of the night, again when he'd barely managed to get you out of a hostage situation with your life.

“Seriously, it—”

“Say 'it's nothing' and I won't let you cuddle me for a week.”

A whole week? Vash knew you were serious, too. Open up, or. . . for a week? Bare his problems to you, allow himself a moment of empathy, share just one of the demons usually hidden behind his large glasses. . . or no cuddles. Why did you have to be so adamant?

His head dipped, a bit ashamed, but still he let those sinful hands of yours hit every knot in his forearm. “I've been worrying over this sleeping situation. It's not good for you — so cold every night.”

The heartfelt statement made your eyes sting. To be so kind as to incur physical ramifications at the pain of others — he really was something beyond the average human. His kindness, above all his struggles, had become his greatest curse.

Whether to hide or to be close to you, his head plopped down unceremoniously onto your shoulder, the disheveled mop of hair atop his head vaguely tickling your neck and cheek. Your fingers moved carefully to the back of his neck. There was a fine line before his boundaries were crossed; if you overstepped, he'd completely clam up. It was hard to get him to do this in the privacy of a tent in the middle of the dunes, let alone in a bar full of inebriated patrons. Thankfully Vash didn't shy away when you touched the taught muscles and continued up into the soft hair of his undercut. Not even when you pushed into the pressure points there did he pull away.

Oh no. If anything, your stampede opened himself even more. A subtle puff of air, a faint groan, a slouching of his shoulders, and suddenly it felt like he was trying to get under your very skin.

“I can't stop you from worrying,” you said, “no one can. I can't make you care about yourself, eat enough, or stop you from trying to save everyone. Only you can do that, Vash. What I can do is say this isn't good for you. How can you expect to do the things you want when you won't take care of yourself? If the phantom pains are getting this bad. . .”

He knew exactly what you were doing. Sometimes he hated your reverse psychology, but it was working.

You continued: “I want to help you in whatever way I can, so you can keep doing all these crazy, stupid, amazing things. So trust me. Trust me to be your stampede.”

A hefty pause broke when he burrowed his forehead deeper into your shoulder. “I hate when you're like this.”

You laughed. “I know you do, now, how is it?”

“. . . better.”

You pulled his head off your shoulder and, before your thoughts got the better of you, caressed his jaw in your palms and pressed a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. Vash seemed to glitch out for only a second or two this time. His prosthetic hand, previously too uncomfortable to move, lifted to rest on your thigh.

#vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #trigun stampede #trigun stampede x reader #io has ideas

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 12, Unlucky - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, minor mention of sex.

Word Count: 412

Previously On...: You and Bucky had a heart-to-heart in the bathroom at Gino's where you admitted you've been putting up an emotional wall between the two of you. Tony decided it was time for another game of 'What the 'F' Was It?' (thanks for the inspo for that, weed!), and when you and Bucky went to leave to go back to the Tower for some... quality time, Jade was not pleased. It was, therefore, a pleasant surprise to watch Bucky rebuff her.

A/N: Very, very short part today, friends. I am going to fully confess that I am lulling you into a false sense of security in these next two parts before I start lobbing shit at the fan with a rocket launcher.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @sashaisready @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @doublejeon @pattiemac1

With Jade away in Malaysia, things between you and Bucky finally felt like they were going back to normal. Yes, you had your hands full making final preparations for your board presentation, but Bucky was constantly by your side, bringing you lunch, cheering you on, making sure you took appropriate breaks and ending your workday at an appropriate time so you weren’t wearing yourself too thin. 

And the sex? Yeah, that was right back on track.

Before you knew it, the day of your presentation had arrived. You were a nervous wreck. In the lab, you were confident, willing to take chances, assert your authority with ease and confidence, but presenting in front of a group of stuffy, predominantly middle-aged white men? All of that went right out the window. 

“You’ve got this, sweets,” Bucky said as you both stood outside the board room. 

“What if they hate it, Buck?” you murmured, trying to stop your hands from shaking. “What if the presentation’s terrible?”

“Hey,” he said, putting his hands on your shoulders to hold you still, “I have more faith in you than I’ve ever had in anyone. You’ve worked so hard on this, and you know it works. It’s gonna save so many lives. You’ve practiced this presentation inside and out; I bet you could do it in your sleep. I’m so fucking proud of you, doll.”

You managed a weak smile. “Do you want me to come in with you?” he asked gently. “That way, you get nervous with all those stodgy old men in front of you, you can just look at this old man and pretend it’s just you and me. Just like we’re practicing up in our room.”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes! Oh god, yes, please! Thank you so much, Buck.” You kissed him quickly on the lips, the idea of being able to stare into his ocean-blue eyes as you went through your presentation instantly calming you and filling you with a sense of security. “I love you.”

He chuckled and squeezed your shoulders. “I love you, too, doll. And this is the least I can do for you, after everything you’ve done for me.”

The door to the board room opened before you could say more to one another. A secretary smiled when she saw you. “Ms. (Y/L/N),” she said, “they’re ready for you now.”

You took a deep breath. “Here we go,” you said before taking Bucky’s hand and walking inside.

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

[luv4slts]

Ultraviolence

- aemond targaryen x f!reader ˖⋆࿐໋₊

tags: targcest, smut, little angst, childhood friends/lovers wc: 1.4k — team black but i love him so bad y'all don't understand. anyways as you can tell by the title, i was listening to ultraviolence while writing this LMAO "...cause i was filled with poison but blessed with beauty and rage. aemond brought me back, reminded me of when we were kids."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

No one truly knew who your mother was, as that would only be known to your father but even he most likely had forgotten her. It wouldn't matter either way as she had died in childbirth soon after delivering you. In the year of 112 AC, two years after the birth of Prince Aemond and two years before the marriage of Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor, you were born. They say your father had gotten drunk that night to soothe his pains and sought out a maid to bed. The result of that night was the birth of a bastard. The beloved bastard of King Viserys Targaryen. Viserra was what your father had named you. For you resembled his great aunt with the same deep violet eyes, silver-gold hair, and fine features that she was renowned for. The similarities ended there though, as you often thought to yourself. However, as you got older your father would often comment on how similar you were with her when it came to things such as vanity. For most of your life you had bore the surname, Waters, as was the custom for all high born bastards. However, at the age of 5, your father had legitimized you as a Targaryen. You were the apple of his eye along with your elder sister. You loved your father dearly but loved your sister far more. When she left for Dragonstone, you followed her. You couldn't stand the Hightower's and they didn't take a liking to you either because of your heritage. Queen Alicent, your stepmother, would often make remarks but you didn't mind it too much. The only Hightower you tolerated was him. The elusive enigma, Aemond. You often pitied him as he was always picked on by your nephews for the dragon that he seemed to not possess. His older brother, Aegon, would often remind him of how unlucky he was if the gods provided bastards such as you and your nephews dragons before they did him. The only memories you have of him before the incident in Driftmark were fond. Often, you would both read stories of Old Valyria under the Godswood tree in the Red Keep. Or when you would take him to ride your dragon, hoping that he wouldn't feel as left out. Maybe you didn't know him well. That day he took the dragon of your cousin's mother who had passed, mocking them after doing so. After that day, any love you had for him was buried deep in you. Or so you thought.

“We’re almost here.” you snapped back from your thoughts as you got shaken from them by your nephew, Jacaerys.

“Good, my back hurts from the ride. I don’t know why she wouldn’t just let us ride our dragons to King’s Landing” you say while stretching out your back

It had been years since you had last visited King’s Landing. Most of your time had been spent on Dragonstone. You preferred the warmth and populace of the city but you would rather die than spend a second alone with the Hightower's.

You went to your chambers that you used when you were younger. Nothing much had changed in it, everything remained untouched. Opposed to the rest of the Red Keep where everything had been renovated in preference to heraldry of the Faith instead of the Targaryen tapestries and decorations. Must’ve been the Queen’s doing, you think to yourself. She was a fanatic of the Faith, after all. 

“Your grace, you will be expected to meet for supper later in the day.” 

“Thank you, Lelia. I will take a walk for now. You and Roslin may rest after unpacking everything.”

The first place you wanted to visit was the library where you had spent much of your childhood. You took a stroll to where it was located, many nobles passing by. You never liked the pleasantries of court life. Another reason for you leaving the Red Keep.

Finally, you reach the library. No one seemed to be here but that was common. Even as a child, this place was never one to be too lively. Aside from you, Aemond, and a few nobles coming here, no one else bothered. You liked the peace and quiet of it. It was a place to wind down after spending the day in court. You make your way over to the Valyrian Histories section, you probably read every book in here. Your interest in Old Valyria was probably one of the things you had inherited from your father. He was always building his sculptures of it from what you remember.

“Ēza issare iā dorolvie jēdri, mandia.” (It has been a few years, sister.) says a voice that you seem to recognize. Though it sounds much older and mature, the tone is the same nonetheless.

You notice him leaning on one of the shelves. He had grown comely these last years even after the loss of his eye. He was much taller too, no longer the boy you remember growing up with.

“It has. What brings you here? I thought you would’ve been busy practicing your swordsmanship.” you bring your attention back to the books, looking through the different titles and trying to find one you haven’t read before.

“I get tired of it” he trails off before continuing again, “and plus, nyke jeldan naejot ūndegon ao.” (I wanted to see you)

“I didn’t think you would’ve missed me so much, jorrāelagon lēkia. (dear brother) If I remember correctly, last time we were together, you had called me a lowly bastard.” you weren’t bothered by that comment that he had made all those years ago but if it made him feel worse then it would be all the more fun to resurface it.

You notice him out of the corner of your eye walking towards you but continue browsing the books before you feel his hand on your lower back. He seemed to be holding a book in his other hand, it had something written in High Valyrian but you couldn’t decipher as it was cut off by his leg. You straighten your back from your position, taking a look into his face. He was truly handsome, even the scar couldn’t take that away from him. You think it added to his beauty.

He hums before speaking, “I thought you would like this, I know you’re fond of Valyrian history, jorrāelagon lēkia. (dear sister) he says the last words in a mocking tone, imitating your own.

He extends his hand, revealing the book to you. Se jorrāelagon hen Meleys (The love of Meleys), it was the tale of the Valyrian goddess of love and fertility, Meleys. The same name given to the Red Queen. You were always a fan of the mythologies and tales of Valyrian gods. He would’ve known it better than anyone.

You reach out and try taking the book from him but he clutches it closer to him, “Shouldn’t I get some words of kindness and love before giving such a gift that took me ages to find?” he says teasingly while lowering his head to face yours, bringing the both of you face to face.

“Thank you so much.”

“Tsk tsk, that won’t do, my Viserra. Say it with more affection, now.”

My Viserra. You felt your face heat up at those words, the way he said it made you flutter. The years that passed had made his voice sound much more manly than boyish. It was as if it was laced with honey and ale.

You lean in closer, your lips almost hovering over his own, “I am very thankful for the great effort you went through. Is there anything you would like in return?”

“Hmm, maybe if you read the book with me. You know I have a love for the histories as much as you do.”

“Fine, can I have the book now?”

“Of course, my Viserra. You know I would never deny you of anything.”

You control yourself from not rolling your eyes at his comment. Was he always such a tease or had he developed this habit in the years you were gone? Who knows.

You grab the book from him before walking to the exit of the library, “I look forward to reading the book, thank you.”

You wonder back to your quarters, your maids weren’t in the room and your things were unpacked so you assumed they were in the kitchens. You called out to the guards, requesting that they come to prepare you for the supper as it was getting closer to nighttime. You weren't too fond of the idea of seeing your stepmother and other brother but you complied for the sake of your father whom you had missed these past years.

#aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond smut #house targaryen #house of the dragon #the dance of the dragons #house of the dragon aemond #reader insert #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd fanfic #hotd smut

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

The Whore of Winchester chapter 2

Note: chapter 1.

Warnings: fluff/light angst. Brief mention of physical abuse and once again; reader is a whore, so see that as a general warning.

pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You longed to see Sihtric again.

wordcount: 2,6k

Masterlist

Sihtric had paid you royally, more than he needed to actually, and he had asked if you were working in two days' time, because then he'd come back. You thought Sihtric was as sweet as he was handsome, but you were always wary of new men asking to see you again. And so you told him you would be working, when in truth you weren't.

Sihtric had spent at least an hour at the whore house two days later, looking for you, but with no luck. He didn't know you had lied to him because you were cautious and wanted to protect yourself, and he eventually asked one of the other girls if you were around. His heart broke quietly inside his chest when he understood he wasn't going to see you that day, and he realised that maybe you hadn't liked him as much as he hoped you did. And despite many other pretty girls trying to get his silver that day, he left without paying them any attention as all he could think of was you. After he finished his drink, Sihtric sulked around town for a good while, hoping to perhaps run into you, but it seemed that the gods were not on his side that day.

When you were working again the day after Sihtric's unlucky day, all your friends at the tavern beneath the whore house told you about the handsome Dane who had been looking for you. You felt just as flattered as you felt bad, because there was something about Sihtric that you truly liked, but you had lied to him and he probably figured that out by now. You secretly hoped he would come looking for you again that day, but this time it was your own disappointment that kept you company until your work was done for the day. And you hoped you'd walk into him on your way home, but that didn't happen either. Once in your own bed, later that night, you desperately wanted to fall asleep but the thought of the pretty boy you had been with only once kept you awake, and you wondered where he was.

Sihtric occupied your mind for days after, and nights too. And then you began to hear the whispers around the tavern that Uhtred had travelled to Eoferwic.

'With his men?' you asked a Saxon priest after he paid you.

'Oh, yes, with his men,' the priest laughed as he dressed himself, 'an army of seven men,' he cackled.

'What business is there in Eoferwic?' you asked.

'Aren't you nosy for a whore?' the priest spat.

'Aren't you very unholy for a priest?' you retorted.

The priest clicked his tongue and sighed, annoyed. 'I hear Uhtred wants to take Dunholm.'

'Dunholm?'

'That's all I know.'

Weeks passed and Sihtric was still on your mind, but nowhere to be seen. You had heard rumours about a battle at Dunholm and that the fortress had been taken by Uhtred, then given to someone named Ragnar. You desperately hoped that Sihtric was still alive, and you felt silly that you couldn't stop thinking about him even though you barely knew him. He had been kind and gentle, unlike many other men, and he had actually made you feel good too that night you spent with him, which was another thing unheard of when doing a whore's work.

Every day you hoped to see the young Dane step through the door, but you slowly began to lose hope. There hadn't been any sign of Sihtric, nor of Uhtred or Finan. And when another week had passed without any sign of the men, you had lost all hope you would ever see Sihtric again. Until one evening, only a few hours before you'd go home that evening, you were called over by your friends who giggled and blushed. The tavern was once again warm, smelly and busy, and you pushed your way through the crowd to answer to your friends.

'What? What is it?' you asked, confused at their behaviour.

'It's him,' one of the girls said.

'Who?' 

'Him,' another whispered, 'that Dane who was asking for you a while ago.'

'What?' you gasped, and your eyes quickly scanned the tavern until they found the handsome boy.

Sihtric was at the other side of the tavern, leaning back against the wall while he sipped a drink. It was obvious that he was looking for someone, as his eyes carefully moved across every face he saw. And once his eyes found yours, they stayed locked onto you, and a soft smile appeared on his face. You smiled back and made your way to him, stepping over the drunks that had fallen or had been punched down, and Sihtric met you in the middle. 

'You're back,' you said, trying to hide your excitement, but you knew the blush on your face betrayed you.

'I am,' Sihtric smiled shyly, 'I actually was here a while ago too, looking for you-'

'I've been told,' you interrupted, 'and I'm sorry, Sihtric,' you lightly touched his trembling hands with your trembling fingertips, 'I… I didn't mean to deceive you. I just have to be careful.'

'I understand,' he said, lightly touching your fingers back, 'I'm sorry if I frightened you by asking for you when you weren't here. Or… if… if maybe you did not want to see me again at all. You could've said so-'

'No,' you chuckled, 'it's not that. I did want to see you again… just not everyone has good intentions when they come back a second time.'

'I promise I only have good intentions.'

'I know,' you smiled.

'How so?'

'Uhtred and Finan are good men. I know they wouldn't accept you if you weren't a good man either.'

You saw the Dane smile and blush in the dim candle light. He looked down at your hands, uncertain if it was okay for him to hold them, which he desperately wanted, and so you did it for him.

'Where have you been all this time?' you asked and took his hands in yours, 'I heard stories about a battle at Dunholm. Are you okay?'

'Y-yes,' he mumbled and smiled while he lightly squeezed your hands, 'I'm okay.'

'What happened there?'

Sihtric looked a little troubled as he looked into your eyes, and he then shrugged while he shook his head.

'It doesn't really matter,' he said, 'I'm just happy to see you again.'

'I'm happy to see you again too,' you giggled softly, 'so…,' you pulled him slowly with you to the stairs that led up to your room, 'would you like some company tonight?'

'I would,' Sihtric smiled, and he followed you up the stairs.

And for almost an hour you were treated with respect and adoration. Love was being made to you instead of just being used. And afterwards you spent another hour just laying in his arms and listening to the stories he eventually told you about what had really happened when he was at Dunholm. You were shocked to hear about his father, Kjartan the Cruel, and you almost couldn't believe his father had been such a heartless man. Sihtric told you about his past and how he had come to serve Uhtred, he told you where he had earned each scar after you had asked him, and he spoke about his dreams for the future. You talked and laughed and kissed until dawn showed, and you both agreed it was time to say goodbye, sadly. 

And even though you did not even want to charge Sihtric, you still had to, but you only charged him half. Sihtric promised he'd see you again as soon as he could. He also told you that he had to leave for Datchet in four days, and that he would not have much time before his departure. You told him you hoped he'd pay you a visit, even if it was just for a short moment, and he didn't leave before he had kissed you deeply several more times.

It had been two days since you last saw Sihtric, and you hadn't expected to see him at all anymore before he'd have to leave. But to your surprise he suddenly showed up at the tavern in the afternoon. He quickly found you as the place was not too busy, and he handed you a small bouquet of coloured flowers which was tied together with a string.

'I picked them myself,' Sihtric smiled proudly, and he blushed once he realised that maybe he had sounded a little silly and felt embarrassed.

'I love them,' you said, your cheeks flushed at the kind gesture, 'thank you, Sihtric,' you smiled and kissed his cheek, 'I will cherish them.'

You took his hand and guided him to the stairs again, but he stopped you before you could climb up.

'My lady,' he said softly, almost inaudible over the few drunk men chattering, 'I am sorry, but… I… I did not come here to hump.'

'Oh,' you said, slightly confused, 'then… why?'

'I just wanted to see you and ask if you would want to go for a horse ride, maybe.'

'Oh, I… I would love that,' you said, 'but… I am at work now. I can't leave or just talk right now, my boss will… you know,' you shrugged sadly, 'you have to pay for my company when I'm here. I'm really sorry.'

'I know,' Sihtric said, clearly disappointed, 'and I understand.'

'Maybe tomorrow? Are you still here tomorrow?'

Sihtric's eyes lit up again, 'I am, my lady,' he said eagerly, 'do you not work?'

'Tomorrow I don't. Perhaps we can meet at noon here, at the tavern?'

Sihtric agreed with a smile, he then placed one hand on the small of your back without thinking and he pulled you closer. You enjoyed being this close to him, to be this close in a different setting. One where he wasn't paying you. But your joy was soon interrupted when your boss gave you an agitated glare, and then cocked her head towards an old man who was more than happy to pay for your company right now.

'I… I'm sorry,' you said embarrassed, and you felt a knot in your stomach, 'I have to… to work.'

You looked up at Sihtric and then to the man who was waiting for you. Your eyes teared up as you clenched your jaw, and you plucked at Sihtric's leather jerkin, not wanting to leave him but knowing you had a job to do.

'I understand,' Sihtric said again, 'I'm sorry I can't pay for you right now. Uhtred… he's telling me to stop spending so much silver.'

'I wish I did not have to ask for your silver. But that is why I want to see you tomorrow, when I am not working,' you said and swallowed hard, fighting your tears, 'thank you for the flowers, Sihtric.'

You kissed his cheek before you turned on your heels and left up the stairs, not looking back, as you didn't want the Dane to see how upset you truly were. You knew the feeling you had was bad news, because you knew you were falling in love with Sihtric while you still had to give yourself to other men to survive.

You shuffled home late at night, the hood of your cloak draped over your face to hide the bruise that graced your cheek. Because you had been so caught up with Sihtric in your head, the man who had paid for you was not satisfied with the way you had tried to please him, and therefore you had received a punch to your cheek. Your boss soon got rid of the man, but the damage had already been done.

You had Sihtric's flowers clutched in your hands as you made your way through town. The city was dark but still very much alive with drunks, and you earned a few whistles here and there. You bit your tongue, as you did not appreciate the whistles, and you began to make haste to your home. Until someone suddenly called your name, and you recognised Sihtric's voice. You looked away when he came closer, but you couldn't stop yourself from smiling at the sight of him.

'You still have my flowers,' he smiled as the town's torches lit up his scarred face.

'Of course,' you mumbled, keeping your hood pulled over your head in the hopes to hide your bruised cheek, but to no avail.

Sihtric soon noticed the mark and his eyes showed a mixture of anger and pain. He gently caressed your cheek after he had pulled your hood down, and he inspected your face for more possible bruises, but he found none.

'Who did this?'

'It's fine, Sihtric.'

'Was it the man who asked for you when I was there?'

You hesitantly nodded, 'But it doesn't matter.'

'It does to me,' he said.

You shrugged lightly and told Sihtric that you just wanted to go home. The Dane insisted on walking you home, and so you soon found yourself holding hands with him as he walked you further through town. The walk was a pleasant slow one, and Sihtric couldn't stop himself from glancing at you and occasionally pulling you closer to steal a kiss. But then he noticed a change in your behaviour as you passed a drunken man, and Sihtric quickly recognised him as the man who had paid for you when he stopped by to give you the flowers.

'Was it him?'

'It's not worth it,' you said and pulled his arm, 'let's keep walking.'

'It was him, wasn't it?'

'It's really not worth it-'

'It is to me,' Sihtric said and he pulled away from you.

Before you could tell him to stop, you saw how he punched the man in the face who had hurt you, and he fell down with a loud groan. You gasped when the man hit the ground and the whole situation immediately drew attention from a group of men close by. They asked what was going on, to which neither you nor Sihtric replied, and the Dane was quick to grab your hand and pulled you with him, walking much faster than before.

'Run,' Sihtric insisted suddenly.

'What?'

'We should run, my lady,' Sihtric chuckled as he looked back over his shoulder.

And soon the group of men realised what had happened and they began to chase you. Sihtric pulled you with him, running through the darkened streets while a small herd of drunks followed you around. You and Sihtric both began to laugh as you ran, but then you accidentally lost the flowers he had gifted you, and you tried to stop. But Sihtric continued to pull you with him.

'No!' you half yelled, 'my flowers! Sihtric, I dropped the flowers!'

Sihtric laughed and looked back after a moment, noticing the group of angry drunks was gone, and he then pulled you in his arms while he leaned back against a wall in a narrow alley.

'My flowers,' you pouted as you looked up at him.

'Don't worry,' Sihtric laughed softly and carefully held your face, 'I'll get you new ones tomorrow,' he smiled and kissed your lips.

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylasthegrim @andakth @succnfuccubus @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305 @drwstarkeyy @mrsarnasdelicious @verenahx @urmomsgirlfriend1 @foxyanon @djarinsgirl27 @sigtryggrswifey @diiickbrainn @sihtricsafin @lexwolfhale @dixie-elocin @m-a-s-h-k-a

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk #the last kingdom fic #sihtric fic

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids,

Online dating can be a wonderful thing. Many people use dating apps or social media to look for love, and have honest and good intentions. Especially for a queer person, the internet can be a convenient way to meet someone - or even the only way to do so. But it is important to be aware that it's easy to fake good intentions online. So, let's talk about romance scams.

"Romance scam" describes a situation in which someone creates a fake online profile and pretends to be romantically interested in someone to trick them (into giving them money or into revealing personal information they can use in malicious ways). Everyone can become a victim of a romance scam but vulnerable groups can be a "easy target". Some scammers specifically target queer people as they are aware we may have a harder time meeting people offline.

Here are some red flags you should look out for. Not all of these will ring true for every romance scam, just one is enough to be cautious:

Someone falls for you very quickly

This can actually be a red flag for a scammer or for an abusive person. Obviously, people can fall hard and fast for someone. I have certainly done so before! But a real person (who is not out to manipulate you and isn't emotionally immature) will still want to get to know you before getting into a relationship with you. They will want to make sure that you are a real person with good intentions as well, they will wait until they are sure you two truly get along well and can trust each other before they commit to anything.

Please be careful if someone tries to get into a committed relationship or makes heavy promises (you are their one true love, they trust you blindly, they want to move to your country/city to be closer to you, they will love you forever etc.) very quickly. They may try to move so fast because they hope it (metaphorically) makes you dizzy and blind to their red flags.

They are in a bad situation and you are the only one who can save them

This often ties in with the fast pace I mentioned above: they quickly tell you dark secrets. They are a victim of some unlucky circumstances that are out of their control and you are the only one they trust enough to talk to about it. You are special, you are the only one they feel safe with, you are the only one who knows how to comfort them... This, again, may be them trying to quickly establish an intimate level of trust to blind you to red flags.

They dodge attempts of verifying their identity

They promise a video call or a date in person... but then keep postponing it (for various reasons that are out of their control). These stories are often elaborate and emotional, they make you pity them.

If you point out that their refusal is suspicious, they may make you feel guilty or convince you you are just being paranoid.

They ask you for money

Oftentimes, they say they need the money to see you in person (either for travel expenses or to fix an unexpected emergency that prevents them from seeing you). But they may also promise to send you a gift and then there is suddenly an unexpected customs fee that the receiver (you) needs to pay. Or they have a medical emergency and need help paying the hospital fee. Or they have debt and need help to pay it off to start a new life with you... There are a lot of possible stories and scammers are skilled at making them sound believable!

Regardless of how convincing (or heartbreaking) the story may be, and even if they promise to pay you back: If someone you never met in person asks you for money (or gift cards or info that could be used to access your banking account), there is always something wrong. Of course real people can also have financial emergencies but a trustworthy person isn't going to ask someone they never met for money! Even if they are not a scammer, this would be a red flag that they are, at the very least, an irresponsible person.

They are a celebrity or millionaire (and you are not)

Most scammers pretend to be your everyday Joe, so don't think someone can't be fake just because they don't lead a glamorous life - but there are also celebrity romance scams. Yes, the fantasy of a celebrity falling in love with a fan is enticing - but it is an immediate red flag if a celebrity messages you out of the blue and shows romantic interest in you! The chance of that actually happening is basically zero (think of it this way: even if your favorite star saw your profile in their Instagram comments and thought you were cute, they could put themselves in a bad situation, PR-wise, by actually messaging you. They won't risk that). Keep in mind that pictures of and info on celebrities are widely available, so it's easy for some random person to pretend to be them and take advantage of your pre-existing parasocial relationship with them.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

#lgbt #lgbt+

[star-going-supernova]

Okay, here’s a prompt I’m a bit surprised I haven’t seen yet. Only three words, but with near infinite potential.

Gregory. April Fools.

Have fun.

I’m picturing the kids as being thirteen or fourteen in this one. 

Expectations (And the Breaking of Them)

Cassie couldn’t help but snicker to herself at how tense her classmates and teacher were that morning. Some kept eyeing the doorway, perhaps praying that Gregory wouldn’t walk through it on today of all days. 

April Fools Day.

Gregory’s pranks the previous year were a thing of legend, and she truly regretted having been out that week with the flu. Rumor had it that multiple teachers had been clamoring to give him detention (or even have him suspended) for some of his stunts, but the true brilliance of his school-wide torment wasn’t how elaborate or funny or distracting the pranks were. It was that there was no proof that Gregory was the culprit. 

Oh, everyone knew, of course. But they had no way to truly pin any of it on him, and it was even less of a secret that his moms would gladly rip into the administration if their son was punished for something without proof of guilt. 

The only thing the teachers had on him was being one of the five instigators of a massive food fight during lunch. 

Needless to say, Gregory had a lot to live up to this year, and all his potential victims were already flinching. 

At last, Gregory sauntered into the classroom with a satisfied grin. Over a dozen pairs of wary eyes zeroed in on him. 

“Hey, Cassie,” he greeted her as slid into her desk behind her. 

“Good morning,” she replied dryly. 

He chuckled. “It certainly is.” 

Attendance was taken soon after, and hour by hour, the day passed by agonizingly slowly. Every time Gregory made a sound or shifted in his seat or raised his hand, someone would flinch or duck or give him a suspicious look. Their teacher looked like she dearly wanted to refuse when Gregory asked to go to the bathroom, and she watched the clock like a hawk until he came back an ordinary amount of time later. 

But nothing happened. 

Lunch arrived, and many students cautiously checked their lunches for tampering. Even those who’d bought their lunch were hesitant to eat. Cassie sat beside him as usual, and they chatted about their after school plans while everyone else watched Gregory over their shoulders for any signs of mischief. 

But nothing happened. 

Gregory was a model student for the remainder of the day as well, even as the spark in his eyes never dimmed. The silence during their final free period was thick; the unlucky few to be seated in Gregory’s immediate vicinity unsubtly scooted their desks away until only Cassie remained in a five foot radius around him. 

But the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, and nothing happened. 

• • •

Once they were safely far away from any potential eavesdroppers, Cassie finally let out all the laughter she’d been swallowing back. Gregory joined in, snickering gleefully as they walked down the sidewalk to Cassie’s house. 

“They were all so afraid!” she giggled. “Everyone was acting like you were about to explode or something!” 

“I could practically taste their fear,” Gregory said proudly. 

“Best April Fools ever.” 

“Not yet, it’s not.” Gregory pulled out a phone that wasn’t his and tapped around for a minute before holding the screen out to her. “Care to do the honors, my dear partner in crime?” 

“Gladly.” And Cassie tapped a single button, launching the prank to end all pranks that she had spent most of the day setting up. Because while everyone else had been so focused on Gregory, no one had paid any attention to her—not as she’d fiddled on that very phone, not as she took an extra long bathroom trip, and not even as she slipped into the main office under the guise of making copies for her teacher. 

It’d been Gregory’s idea, just as much as it’d been his idea that he would effortlessly keep the spotlight on himself while she put everything into place. 

A moment later, their phones received an official email from the official administration email address sent to all students and parents announcing there would be no school the next day on account of “a prank that has caused some property damage.” No doubt, everyone would assume it was the prank they’d all been expecting from Gregory. 

The teachers, though, would be getting no such email. In the morning, they would be faced quite bewilderingly with a completely and utterly empty school.

The phone, borrowed from the pizzaplex’s lost and found, would be returned to the box of junk that evening, wiped clean of any incriminating evidence. No one would ever know how, or even truly who, had pulled off a prank that got everyone a free day—

—but it was generally accepted to be the best prank ever committed at their school, and Gregory was the favorite suspect. Naturally. And while no one would ever seriously suspect kind, quiet Cassie as an accomplice, there were some who noticed that that April Fools Day, her eyes had been just as bright with mischief as her best friend’s. 

#i answered a thing #wandererintheocean #fnaf fic #star's stories #life and times of star

[misguidedasgardian]

What if Series II.

What if Reader married Cregan Stark?

MASTERLIST

You met Cregan when you were sixteen at your sister's wedding, and the bond between you two became so strong there was no other choice but to betrothed you two.

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Fem!Reader

Warnings: minors kissing heavily, and being really sneaky and horny 😂😂. Reader and Cregan are so horny for one another JAJAJA well they are a couple of sixteen year olds, cursing, medieval customs, incest and whatnot 

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: this is it people! Haha! I decided to give it a turn, more drastic 

Year: Year 115 AC, Rhaenyra is 18, Princess (Y/N) 16

Only one thing changed the course of History…

When Rhanyra was ready to join the jousting, and begin the celebrations for her wedding, excited to see his uncle in the lists again, she went looking for her sister to join her… She got into the Godswood, where his father and the princess were with the Starks.

And what she saw made her smile, she refrained from grabbing her sister and taking her away from the place. 

Her sister was walking in the Godswood, so close with the wolf boy, she didn’t dare to intervene, in fact, she let them, only walking towards his father and Lord Rickon

“They make a handsome couple”, she would say, with a shy smile.

And that did it for King Viserys.

The very next day in the feast, the King announced the betrothal of her youngest daughter to the the heir to Winterfell, Cregan Stark, of the North 

For you, Rhaenyra’s week of wedding celebrations turned into some sort of blurr, a haze of love, and tingles in your belly.

Once your betrothal was announced you and Cregan never again parted ways from one another. stealing glances, holding hands under the table, taking long walks in the gardens, in the city, in the Red Keep, you took so many walks because there was the only way you could truly be together with him. Walking… holding hands, always being followed, under the watchful eyes of Steffon or another unlucky King’s guard 

But you realized soon it wasn’t enough.

No matter how many knights crushed each other with their spears, or many many swings of their swords they would take to defeat the other… or how many fools would hit each other with wooden sticks or how many jokes they pulled, or how many times you would dance, or ride horses throughout the fields outside the walls of King’s Landing

It wasn’t enough 

Soon your gazes turned more heated, your hands squeezed together more often and more tightly, and sometimes you took one too many cups of Dragonfire wine, expecting to quench your thirst…

But you weren’t thirsty for wine, nor even water

Soon you started stealing kisses when your Kingsguard wasn’t looking, the first time your lips collided with Cregan’s it was like a warm milky bath with your favorite essences in it, certainly felt better than that. And you both soon turned addicted to each other's pouty lips

And from hands you were seen holding each other, his hand on your waist, and your arm coiled with his 

Rickon and Viserys didn’t know what to do with the both of you always sneaking around, and people were beginning to talk.

But it wasn’t only the touches that made your skin burn with desire… it was also… him

All of him

He was tall and beautiful, wide, broad and so handsome, he dwarfed you in size and that made you want him even more.

HIs hair was dark brown, his eyes a piercing gray, he was so adult but he still held reminisces of his childhood, his jaw hairless and his eyes still held a playful twinkle. 

He would talk to you about his home, about the things he had read, about the houses that followed house Stark.

You would speak to him about the things you had read, and the places you would like to see. 

You were both young, and hungry for the world, and for the correct leadership of your people.

He would also tell you about legends and horror stories about the far north, about monsters beyond the wall, and how he would take you to gaze upon the neverending winter above the tallest and most magical wall the world had ever seen. 

It would make your skin prickle when he hugged you at your back, and whisper in your ear provoking goosebumps in your arms and the little hairs in the back of your neck prickle.

Cregan Stark made your skin tingle, made you this warmth in the lowest part of your belly

And you made him so insane for you as well.

You were two teenagers in love, and in lust.

Soon you felt the need to get away from prying eyes, and you both went as far as sneaking out of the safety of the Red Keep and into the dark streets of King’s landing during the fire festival, over the last days of Rhaenyra’s and Laenor’s wedding celebrations

YOu hid your silver hair under a hood, and Cregan didn’t have the need too, and you walked hand in hand enjoying the festivities.

Until you were busted.

“Princess”, you heard a gruff voice call for you, you turned around to meet Harwin Strong. you squeezed Cregan’s hand even tighter, this man had proclaimed you the Queen of Love and Duty the first day of jousting, and you couldn’t be more nervous to be around him

“Ser Harwin”, you gulped, he then looked at Cregan, and then back at you, and then back at him and nodded at the young wolf, like giving his approval of him protecting you. 

“Be careful out here”, he warned, his voice barely a whisper, and a twinkle of sadness in his eyes, and then he turned around and let you be.

Cregan only smiled reassuringly, and pulled you over to continue watching and enjoying the celebrations. 

That night you came back to the castle, and you felt so ecstatic you didn’t care when you pulled Cregan towards the dark hallways leading to your bedroom.

“Wait”, he called, and you looked at him, “We can’t, we are not married”

“Please”

“I can’t”, he said, “I can’t go into your rooms”, his voice sounded so choked that you knew his resolve was weakening. You pulled him towards you and he embraced you in his arms while your mouths collided, hungry for each other.

Your kisses and touches started to feel so heated, so needy, and you touched over your clothes everything you could over the other. 

“Princess!”. oh shit, busted again.

You could only hear what they were screaming about in the next room

“We should marry them now, only the gods now how long until the princess’ belly starts to swell

“How dare you Strong? my son was raised properly, he wouldn’t dare take the maidenhead of the princess!”, that was Rickon Stark

“They were caught doing everything but…”, he mocked, but everything stopped when they heard the King go inside the room

“Your grace”

“What happened?”

“The princess and young Cregan were caught in the Red Keep hallways…. copulating”, explained ser Lyonel Strong

“They were not copulating! They were kissing!”, said Ser Harrold Westerling, the snitch that caught you, intervened

“kissing?”, said Viserys, feeling a headache similar to the one he felt when he had been told by Otto that Rhaenyra had been spotted in a pleasure house when she herself was only sixteen, with her uncle, at least his daughter was betrothed to the young man in question. 

“Leave us, Lord Stark and I will speak to them, nothing spoken here leaves this room”, he said firmly, and the rest of the council left.

they made you go inside, and you and Cregan seated right by each other's side, and across from his father RIckon, and your own father Viserys

“Ah young love”, Viserys said looking at them both, “we know what that is like, don’t we Rickon”

“We do your grace”, he said with a content smile

“So powerful, it could burn you whole, and at least, that is what it feels like, a need for the other person so strong…”, you searched for Cregan’s fingers under the table and you intertwined them 

“They say my mother’s screams of pleasure could be heard all over the Keep the night of her wedding”, Viserys said with a creepy smile on his face, “she was only fifteen when she married my father, and they were the most happy couple the court has ever seen, so hungry for each other, all the time, they would talk about it plainly, of how happy they made one another, specially in the bedroom…”, you looked at Cregan with cheeks heated with embarrassment. “BUT THEY WERE MARRIED!”, he finished, slapping his hand on the table, making you both jump. “they were already married!”, he clarified. 

Even though you wanted to feel bad because of your poor behavior, you couldn’t once you noticed the amusement in Viserys' voice. He was amused, by you, and by your betrothed, and by your behavior. Rickon was too, but he would soon die rather than admit it.

“You are laying yourself over to dark accusations, the court is whispering about you two sneaking off in the night…”

“But father…”, you whispered

“It has to end”, he said firmly, “at least until you are married, and you won’t be until you are eighteen years old”

“But if grandmother married when they were fifteen, then we could…”

“Eighteen”, Rickon said, “the day after tomorrow we will leave for the North and wait until the princess comes of age”, he said firmly, and you felt your chest tightening.

The conversation was over and Rickon took Cregan front he room, to chide him in his own way

Your father leaned in and whispered only for you to hear

“Are you going to need moon tea?”, and then he looked into your eyes, and you shook your head.

“No father, we… I won’t need it”, you whispered looking at the table in front of you

“Good”, he leaned back and left the room, leaving you there alone and cold.

“I’ll send you ravens everyday”, he whispered against your lips, as you said your goodbyes outside the keep in the courtyard. They had the decency to look away as you embrace one another 

“you can’t send your touch or kisses by raven”, you whispered back, he smiled, and leaned in and kissed you deeply.

“I’ll miss you my summer princess”

“And I’ll miss you my Winter Lord”, you murmured

“Alright, enough you two”, said Rickon, pulling away his son from you

And you exchanged many letters that would make the maesters that intercepted them blush and look away. 

When you turned eighteen they sent you ahead on dragonback to the North to finally marry Cregan.

The King, the Queen, and everyone else went into a long Caravan that would take two long months in getting there. 

Mushroom and the maester would write afterwards that by the time they arrived at Winterfell to celebrate your wedding, you would already be with child, because the babe was born only seven moons after your wedding ceremony.

It was a healthy boy that Cregan named Robb

And you give him six more children, five boys and one girl after that.

Even if the reader had a hard time adjusting to the North and the cold, she lived a happy life with Cregan.

Rickon passed the very same year they married, turning Cregan into a young Lord of Winterfell and warden of the north

Lords tried to challenge him, but they didn’t dare once they looked upon your huge dragon Vhaelar. 

You had a hard time adjusting to the North, Cregan being the only one you knew, but then Sara Snow came close to you, befriended you, and other girls from houses of the North followed. 

Mean tongues would say that the first times you tried to sleep, was with a fur cape on that Cregan had made for you, they also said he ripped it off of you and warmed you himself on those cold winter nights. 

He soon turned to be everything you could ever need, the North was hard and gruff, but you learned to live in it, and with its people, warming their hearts towards you, “the southerner princess”

When the dance came, you escorted the winter wolves with your dragon, and the northern army. You couldn’t stop the murder of your family, but you accompanied your husband in bringing justice to them, and guided young Aegon.

You came back to the North to live a long and happy life. Cregan survived you, at seventy years old.

Edit: you died peacefully in your sleep, Cregan followed a couple of months after, not being able to live without you ❤️

More notes: for more, Cregan x Tragaryen!reader you will have tow ait for "Winter sun", a whole ass fic I'm writing

taglist! @tearsarcane @integra1127 @aestmilky @thanyatargaryen @tythaitie @lostinworldofdarkness @voodoogoul @wildmindedbeauty32 @lil-pudd @alicattx @electric-bloo @astaaan-lol @stargaryenx @kaitieskidmore1 @bregarc @lilpnd @jcpenneyyy @janelei @fexibau @ladyoakenshield157 @danielle-leah1997 @lady-ragnvindr @cecilyjmorgenstern @omgsuperstarg @bugheadskid @batprincess1013 @her-fandom-sanctum @holb32 @blue1006 @stargaryenx @grippleback-galaxy @mikariell95 @genesisliveson @mendes-bae @caspianobsessed@notmundane3000 @kamisunshine @just-someone11 @ietss @joliettes @flaneurpastel

#cregan x reader #cregan stark #cregan #hbo house of the dragon #house of the dragon #house targaryen #house stark

[incandescentlysomething]

Lady of the Ashes: Chapter 3

House of the Dragon Season 1

Aemond x TargaryenOC

Chapter Word Count: 3763

She was his everything… For her…he would do anything.

From the moment of her birth, Aemond Targaryen swore himself to the protection of his niece Aelinor Velaryon. As the two grew up inseparable, they find themselves entangled in the Dance of Dragons, battling to stay together even as their families try to pull them apart.

IMPORTANT: Instead of the six year time jump we saw in the show, we're doing a nine-year time jump. I was in no way comfortable building toward future events with Aelinor only fifteen years old. Here is a list of current ages. Aemond: 24 Aelinor: 18 Jacaerys: 19 Lucerys: 15

Let me know what you think!

Masterlist A03

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 P.1 P.2 Chapter 3

Nine Years Later

The citizens of Dragonstone felt the dragon before they saw it. The fishermen working at their boats, the merchants unloading their hauls from the ships, all felt the world swallowed by shadow as the sun above them was blocked out. The first time it happened, as the shadow of dragon wings passed overhead and the heat of the day was blocked, some of them had screamed that it was Balerion, returned from the dead. There had been chaos in the streets.

But now they knew better, and some of them even lifted their arms to wave at the young Princess as she flew by.

Aelinor Velaryon Targaryen laughed when she saw a few scattered expressions of fear below her, pulling hard on the handle to draw Darrax away from the shore. He’d been known to swoop down and steep the catches of unlucky fishermen, but now he was so large that he would destroy everything in his path if he tried.

“Come, Darrax,” she leaned forward to pat his neck. “Let us carry on.”

The girl was a sight to behold, and many people from the harbor and the castle both stopped their tasks to watch her and her mighty dragon turn toward the sea.

Darrax had not slown in his growing, now with a wingspan rivaled only by Vhagar and a body only slightly smaller than that of Vermithor. His obsidian scales sparkled a million shades of blue and green as the light of the sun reflected off of the waves. He was fast, carried by his large wings, and it was easy to see why the people of Dragonstone had shouted ‘monster’ the first time he flew above them.

But he was also gentle, for he had his rider to care for.

Aelinor had grown much since her childhood, though those that truly knew her would have said that she had not changed at all. She wore her hair in a long plait down her back, and it flapped behind her in the wind, a streak of brilliant silver against the sky. Her reins were modified with a single handle, so that she might be able to command Darrax with only one hand. She rarely needed to, however, as the bond between dragon and rider was so close that she could command him with just Valyrian.

“We aren’t fishing today, Darrax,” she called. “Just stretching our wings.”

The young woman had been stretching her wings more and more often as of late, as she found it suffocating to be in the presence of her parents. Her mother was pregnant with her fourth child by Prince Daemon, and while Aelinor wouldn’t mind supporting her mother in such a time, it was difficult to do so without encountering her father. He had been growing ever more persistent in his desire to train her and Darrax, and she was beginning to run out of excuses.

They swept around the west side of the island, keeping low so that they both might enjoy the spray of the sea. If anyone had asked, Aelinor would have said that she went this way so that Darrax might rest on the cliffside that faced toward the west. But Darrax did not need any such rest, and there was only one reason that she always flew west.

This day, like all the rest of them, she looked west and found the skies empty.

Aelinor sighed, too used to the disappointment for it to sting much. It had been a long nine years, with no word save what came through official messages to the Princess Rhaenyra. She knew that Aegon and Helaena had wed, and that they now had two children. She could not imagine that to be a good match, struggling to reconcile the odd and insect-obsessed Helaena with an image of motherhood. Nor was the Aegon that she remembered the type of boy who should have been a father. Aemond…there was little news of Aemond. She knew it was no fault of his own, but she still found herself hoping to hear from him, even after all these years.

Darrax let out a huff, sensing his rider’s emotions, and then he dove.

“No! NO, Darrax! No!” Aelinor’s shouts were silenced as Darrax plunged beneath the waves.

For a few moments she was weightless, and then he was splashing back to the surface, his wings causing great waves around them as he launched himself back into the sky.

Aelinor sputtered and spat out water. She was completely soaked, but she was laughing. “Darrax!” She scolded, though they both knew she didn’t mean it. “You silly creature. Let’s go home then, so I can dry off.”

Darrax pumped his wings, driving himself up and over the cliff, cutting across the island to carry them back to Dragonstone.

An hour later, Aelinor was walking through the halls of the castle. She was no longer wet, though her leathers had pasted themselves uncomfortably tight against her skin. She had undone her long braid, letting her hair fall past her hips. A bath. A bath was what she needed after that sojourn into the sea.

She reached up with her bad hand, grabbing her glove with her teeth and pulling it free. Then she carefully stretched out each of her fingers, looking forward to warm water and bath salts.

“Aelinor,” her father’s voice echoed from in front of her, the man himself stepping out from an adjoining hall.

She didn’t slow her pace. “Price Daemon.”

He didn’t protest her use of the title. He had never been one to argue trivial matters, and he couldn’t care less whether she called him Father or not. For nine years, his eldest daughter had held him at arm’s length, resentment simmering between them like oil in a pan.

He knew she didn’t like him, but he just didn’t care.

“I wish to take you flying,” he fell into step, watching as she carefully tended to her crippled hand. “So that you might learn to—”

“To what? To fly into battle? Against who, Prince Daemon?” She demanded. “My mother might feign ignorance, but anyone can see that you are preparing for something. I will not be brought into your schemes.”

“You are your mother’s daughter, and with that comes specific—”

“Correct. I am my mother’s daughter. And the daughter of the man who raised me,” she didn’t say whom you murdered, though she had been tempted more than once over the years to confront him about the murder of Ser Laenor. “My loyalty is to them, and not to you.”

Daemon let out a scoff, but fell away, and Aelinor did not look back. 

She stepped into the warmth of her bedchamber, finding the bath already full and steaming.

“What did—” A girl stepped out from behind the dressing screen. “Rhaena!”

The two girls had grown closer in the years they had lived together on Dragonstone. Though not as close as sisters, they were dear friends. Aelinor decided not to wrap her in a hug, given that she still reeked of seawater, but she beamed at her cousin.

“I thought you might need it,” Rhaena laughed. “Darrax take you for a swim again?”

Aelinor was already stripping out of her leathers. “Of course he did. He’s positively impish.”

“I wonder where he gets that from,” Rhaena rolled her eyes, watching as Aelinor practically dived into the bathtub.

“It’s so warm. Thank you, Cousin.” They had never stopped calling each other that, all too aware of the boundaries that would be ripped down if they had to acknowledge what they were — sisters. But still, since the marriage of their parents a few years ago, they had been sisters in all but name, and Aelinor was eternally grateful for the female companionship.

“Your mother said that she wished to speak to you,” Rhaena said. “It sounded important.”

Aelinor gave a slight nod, dread already pooling in her gut. She knew what this was about, as did Rhaena. It was the same topic that had been haunting the halls of Dragonstone for months, casting a pall over everything Aelinor did.

“She knows my feelings on the subject,” she finally said. “But she is my mother, and the Princess of Dragonstone besides. My feelings have little relevance.”

Rhaena passed her a cloth, and Aelinor started to scrub some of the salt from her skin. “But shouldn’t your feelings matter? After all, it’s Jace, of all people.”

Rhaena’s expression was genuine, but Aelinor could hear the question she did not ask. Rhaena was, if not in love with, certainly interested in Jace. But it had never been a secret that, to secure Jace’s own place on the throne, he would marry Aelinor. With her pure Targaryen looks, they would be able to secure the claim of any of their future children. In recent months, Rhaenyra had begun making plans in earnest. After all, both Aelinor and Jace were older than Rhaenyra had been when she first wed Ser Laenor.

Aelinor sunk lower into the bathtub, letting the water lap over her mouth and nearly to her nose. She did not want to think about these things. She did not want to imagine having children with Jace, and certainly did not want to imagine what that would mean. Her brother was nice enough, having grown out of the worst of his childhood impulses, but he was still Jace. Luc would have been more agreeable, if he weren’t still a babe in her eyes.

At least she knew Jace felt the same way. They were not suited to each other.

But they would do whatever was required to win their mother the throne.

“It could be worse,” Aelinor sighed, trying to force some levity into the situation. “I could be marrying a Lannister.”

“At least they have gold,” Rhaena smiled. “What if it were Aegon, or worse, that rogue Aemond? When traders come from King’s Landing, they say that his face is—”

“I know what the traders say,” Aelinor snapped, biting her cheek to keep from cursing aloud. “I would like to bathe alone now, Rhaena. If you please.”

It was a dismissal as plain as any, but Rhaena did not fight it. She just said her farewell, stood, and walked to the door.

She should not have let it bother her so. It had been nine long years, and the rift between their families seemed more insurmountable than ever. But there was still that tiny part of her that sprang to attention whenever she heard even a whisper of Aemond. And too often, it was cruel, malicious whispers that her family seemed to take at face value.

The door creaked open, and Aelinor groaned. Gods be damned. Couldn’t she just have one bath in peace?

“Aelinor? May I come in?”

“Of course, Mother,” Feeling no shame at her own nakedness, Aelinor did not open her eyes as she heard her mother glide into the room and take a seat at her dressing table.

“Did you have a nice flight?” Rhaenyra asked, with almost forced politeness.

Aelinor shrugged. “As good as any. But I can confirm that the sea is quite frigid this morning.”

“Then perhaps you should not be swimming in it.” Her mother laughed.

Aelinor sighed, opening her eyes and moving to rest her chin on the side of the bath tub. “Out with it, Mother. I can see that it’s bothering you.”

Say it. Say that it is finally time for me to do my duty and wed Jacaerys. 

But that was not what Rhaenyra said. “Ser Vaemond moves to challenge Lucerys’ succession to the Driftwood Throne.”

“What?” Aelinor sat back. “But it’s settled. Why is Lord Corlys allowing it?”

“He isn’t. He’s been gravely injured in the Stepstones,” Rhaenyra gave her a sad look, appearing genuinely bereaved by the injury to a man they all admired. “Baela wrote. We must make for King’s Landing to defend Lucerys’ claim before the Iron Throne.”

Aelinor’s mouth dropped open. “When?”

“We will leave tomorrow,” her mother stood. “And Aelinor?”

“Yes?” Already her mind was awhirl with everything that this might mean.

“This is…” She watched as her mother searched for the words. “We need to present a united front. We’ll be bringing our dragons, and I…I ask you to remember who your true family is.”

It was both a warning and a scolding, all wrapped up in one. 

Aelinor nodded, and stared after her mother as she left the room.

She sat there for a long time, stewing in the bathwater. There was so much to think about. On one hand, she was more than a little relieved that she was not yet formally betrothed to her brother. But on the other, there was a genuine twinge of fear. She did not want the legitimacy of her brothers challenged, and she did not want their futures left uncertain. It was a settled succession, and Ser Vaemond was risking everything by drawing it into the open.

Her mother’s ascension to the throne would be questioned if her children were declared illegitimate, and Aelinor knew she would not be immune to that. She might look more Targaryen than Jace and Luc, but it was plain to see that she was not the daughter of Ser Laenor. Gods, this could ruin everything.

But, there was one thing that stood out above all else. 

She was going back to King’s Landing.

She was going back to Aemond.

King’s Landing

“Get up!” Aemond snarled at the squire in front of him. “I thought you were here to train, not lie on your back like a whore!”

The boy scrambled to his feet, wiping mud off of his cheek. “Yes, my Prince.”

Aemond sighed. There were many young lords looking to squire for him, and so far none of them had impressed him at all. Most weren’t even worth using as training fodder. He had to give the Blackwood lad some credit — at least he hadn’t started crying yet.

“Keep your sword up,” Aemond rolled his eyes. “And maybe you’ll be able to stay upright.” It was as close as he would get to offering advice.

“Prince Aemond!” A voice called.

Aemond looked toward the walkway, seeing Ser Criston hurrying down the steps. “What is it, Cole?” He did not have much patience for his mother’s lackey, having always found Ser Criston to be a bit…well, if loyalty could be a fault, then it certainly was in Ser Criston.

Cole stopped, offering a curt nod that could perhaps pass as a bow. “Your mother The Queen bids you attend her. She is in her chambers.”

“Wonderful,” Aemond couldn’t imagine what his mother could have to say. He loved her well enough, and she him, but they never had much use for each other. She often scolded him, calling him too wild, too unruly, and yet he knew he did not get half the scoldings that his brother did. “Take care of this one.”

Ser Criston stared at the Blackwood boy in disdain, but nodded, shedding his white cloak and setting it away from the mud. 

Aemond sheathed his sword, removing his gloves and hurrying toward the stairs. His boots splashed through the dir, and he saw many curious eyes turn his way.

Only once he was inside the castle did he slow to a walk, making his way toward his mother’s chambers. He passed many groups of lords and ladies, all of whom bowed in greeting, but he did not acknowledge them. They weren’t with his time.

A group of ladies-in-waiting gathered by the stairs, meaning he would have to walk straight past them. He recognized one of them by her red hair: the Tully girl. He thought her name might have been Myria or Myra or something like that. She had been presented at court a few months prior, with it plain as day that her family was angling to make a match between the two of them.

Now, as she had when she had first seen him in the receiving hall, she did not meet his gaze, bobbing a curtsy without ever looking him in the eye. He hurried past, hearing them erupt into giggles when they thought he was out of earshot. 

It was always like that. Why shouldn’t they laugh at the maimed prince? He was practically a circus attraction. All he had to look forward to was a future married to some random lady who couldn’t look him in the eye, let alone work up the courage to speak to him. He tried not to let it bother him, after all, they weren’t worth his time.

His chambers were in the same tower as his mother’s, and he passed the closed door of his room as he knocked on her door. “Mother? You sent for me?” A maid swung open the door.

“Yes, Aemond,” his mother was seated on the sofa, his niece and nephew playing with a maid on the floor in front of her. “You can all leave us.”

Aemond stood with his hands behind his back, quirking a smile at his young niece as she was carried from the room.

“Sit, Aemond,” Alicent sighed. “We need to talk.”

“You make it sound very serious,” he dropped into the chair across from her. “How may I help.”

He swallowed nervously. Was this to be it then? Was today the day that he would be officially tied to one of the sycophants roaming around the castle? Gods, don’t let it be the Tully girl. Someone with some backbone, at least.

“I called for you because I think this is something that should be entrusted to your skills. You  know the dragon keepers better than anyone.”

That did catch his attention. “The dragon keepers? Is something wrong with the dragons?”

Alicent sighed again, and he realized suddenly that his mother looked worried. More worried than he could ever recall seeing her, except that day when he had lost his eye. Even his father’s declining health had never caused the dark circles that now surrounded her eyes, and he could see that the skin of her nails had been picked until it bled.

“The Princess Rhaenyra is coming to make a petition,” she said finally. “She brings with her all of her children, and all of their dragons. The Dragon Put must be made ready for her and her hoard, and I must prepare a feast and a ball and all the like.”

Aemond felt his mouth go dry. “Her children? All of them? It couldn’t be. It seemed almost impossible. Nine long years had passed since…since…

“All of them,” his mother confirmed. “Which is the other reason I needed to speak with you.”

More likely, it was the only reason she had asked to speak with him. Subtlety was not his mother’s strong suit, and there was no reason the dragon keepers could not be briefed through a simple message. She had wanted to speak to him about his half-sister’s family, in person, for a reason.

Alicent leaned forward. “Aelinor will be with them, Aemond. But she is not the girl you remember. It has been nearly ten years, and you must remember who she is, and who you are.”

“And who is that, mother?”

“You are the legitimate second son of the King,” Alicent said. “And she is the bastard daughter of a false heir, who has spent nine years being fed their lies and derision, far from any realm of reason. The Aelinor you knew is gone.”

Aemond tensed. “That seems….Father has settled his succession, and we should not—”

“I am not here to argue succession with you, Aemond!” His mother snapped. “I want to be sure that you understand. When they enter this hall, it must be us, and it must be them. The fate of our family may very well depend on it.”

He knew that the succession crisis was constant fodder for the King’s critics, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Blast the Seven Kingdoms, and damn the succession. He didn’t care if his half-sister or her bastards, or his own damn brother ascended the throne. He disliked them all equally. All he cared for was Aelinor.

“Besides,” his mother sat back, fanning herself weakly with her hand. “She is betrothed to Jacaerys.”

“What? Jace?” Aemond spat, unable to contain himself. “Why have I not heard of this?”

“They haven’t been to court to announce it.” Aliecent sighed. “Knowing Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon, Jacaerys has almost certainly bedded her already. What better way to secure their line?”

“That Strong boy will never—”

“Watch yourself, Aemond. Please.” His mother waved him away.

He didn’t want to draw out the conversation longer than necessary, and quickly stormed from the room. His mother had certainly achieved her objective, which was reminding him why he hated Jacaerys Velaryon so deeply. His own chambers were only a few doors away, and once he was there, he flung open the window and screamed into the open air. He didn’t give a damn if everyone in the courtyard could hear him.

For nine long years, he had stared across the sea toward Dragonstone. He had requested this chamber specifically because it faced south. And for the first few years, with decreasing frequency, he had begged his mother to grant him permission to fly that way. To where Aelinor was. To…he wasn’t quite sure what he had wanted to do. But he hadn’t wanted to leave her alone.

And now they had given her to Jace. Jace did not deserve her. That Strong boy did not deserve to breathe the same air as her.

Or, did he?

It had been many years since he had seen Aelinor, and she could have changed. She could be different to how he remembered her.

And she might not…

No, he wouldn’t let himself think about that. The truth was staring him in the face, the rage settling into his bones with every seething breath he took. Jace did not deserve Aelinor, but then, neither did he. He was just the scarred second son, after all, and she should be the lady of some great house. He wasn’t jealous, he was concerned for his childhood friend, who had been treated so carelessly by her family.

Given to Jace. He cursed aloud.

Still, his gaze drifted to his writing desk, and to the small box that sat in the top drawer. It had sat there for almost eight years, waiting.

And it had all been for nothing.

#house of the dragon #hotd #game of thrones #got #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #lady of the ashes #fanfiction #fanfic

[imababblekat]

True Family

**WARNINGS**: mention of parental abuse!!

~~~~~~~~

Anon Request, “ Hey! Would it be ok if you wrote an angst Link x reader where the reader has past trauma from bad parents or is dealing with them currently and he basically just comforts them? Only if it's ok with you!!”

~xXx~

Rage, fear, and sadness. Emotions that swirled like a devastating storm all at once within you. How could they? How could your very own parents have treated you such a way? They were supposed to be caring, nurturing of something they created and brought to this world. Instead, they couldn’t give a single care in the world as they threw harsh words and perhaps even harsher hands. Hot tears streamed down your face as you scowled with gritted teeth, an ugly twist within your heart and stomach. You knew not everyone was as unlucky as you when it came to blood family, that everyone had their own ups and downs with those that cared and raised them, but hearing the Princess go off in a fit of irritated anger at her father for putting a stop to another one of her misadventures had been the final straw. Her frustration with the King had resulted in her saying some awful things that any angsty teen would spout without actually, truly meaning it. However, it still angered you, set something off deep inside that you thought you had long got over. The sounds of quickened pace, had you curl more in on yourself, not wanting whoever had just arrived to see your sorry state. When the mystery person had come to a slow, you felt a sudden but gentle hand rest on your shoulder. The action had spooked you enough to snap your attention towards the person, but when familiar blue eyes gazed back, your narrowed brows furrowed upward and you felt another rack of sobs claw up your throat. Link didn’t hesitate to open his arms for you to lunge into his welcoming embrace, slightly knocking him back though he was quick to steady you both. Your choked cries were the only thing he could hear as he rubbed soothing circles into your back, a sorrow at hearing your pain finding place in his heart. Feeling your tears and possibly running nose begin to soak the Hero’s tunic, you tried to hold back some of your cries, pulling away just enough to have room to furiously wipe at your aching eyes. “I-I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have stormed off like that, but it’s just. . .” Link nodded, silently urging you to continue as you took in a shaky breath. “I get that she has some troubles with her father, but how can she not see that it’s because he cares? I would have given anything to have my own parents even look at me with all but ill intent!” Knowing that this was the truth, and remembering back to how he had first found you that fateful night out in the woods looking worse for ware, Link understood your reasoning for abruptly leaving the grand dining hall. The Hylian was just as fortunate as Zelda to come from a loving family, maybe even more so in some aspects, but even he could see where you were coming from. No one’s parents are perfect, everyone makes mistakes, but what your own flesh and blood did to you was anything but a mistake. With a single stray tear following the path so many did before it, you stared at the negative space between you and Link. “Why didn’t they love me?” Your sobbed question came out soft, quiet, but still impactful with such deep distraught and agony. Feeling his own throat become tight, Link was quick to pull you back into another close embrace. Your biological parents may have never given you the love they should have, the familial love that you deserved. However, that was okay, because now that you were apart of his life, Link was determined to show you that family was more than blood and he had plenty of love to give for you. As the last rays of the evening sun disappeared and the night sky alit with stars, you continued to be held by the only person whose ever cared about you, receiving continuous hushed reassurance and soft kisses to your tousled hair.

~xXx~

#botw link x reader #link x reader #botw x reader #botw link #botw #loz #botw imagine #loz imagine #angst #parental abuse #hylian reader #request #anonymous #anon request #imababblekat’s writing

[saltysaltdog]

Narinder and his relationship to the bishops. What caused their falling out?

The game tells you everything you need to know... (Spoiler, it was Leshy)

"Hapless Leshy" is how Haro describes them. And that just means he's very unlucky, unfortunate... doomed.

Leshy is the youngest god, the god of Chaos and flux. For a lot of people when they imagine Chaos, they think of something ever changing, a sensory overload that's never consistent and with no repeating patterns. Constant change.

Notably, Narinder doesn't have anything bad to say about him. His dialogue is limited to one line. "Leshy fell before you like a grain of sand before a tidal wave." Considering how verbose Narinder usually is this should strike you as odd. He comments about how happy he is with seeing the others fall, but not Leshy. He even holds himself in check if you do something that really upsets him, like sell out Ratau (cough cough) but he can't bring himself to demean leshy in the same way, nor celebrate at all.

He should be a natural ally to Narinder, who wanted change. And yet he's not.

"He was unalike the rest of his kin. While others dealt with flux; chaos, famine, pestilence, war. Things in which their constancy must transpose. And yet he was the inevitable; the obstinate and irresistible. The one who waits. Truly peculiar, 'twould then seem, has appetency to invite the novel and the new, break ancient vow and primordial bond alike. Traditions stagnate and appetites augment, nonetheless. Doubt tears faith asunder."

Switching between two states: change, is the natural order of things, Leshy should be inviting chaos, causing it... And there lies the problem.

Bonds of familial duty, turned instead to chains. Most voracious of appetites, curbed and contained. Most infectious of ideas cut off and cauterised before given chance to rot and spread. Cruel, verily. Alas, what other recourse was given? How does one kill Death? ... Alas. One cannot."

The final lines imply that they sacrificed their power, their growth, to stop Narinder, but what if it wasn't him they were doing it for?

Hear me out. Leshy is the youngest and the weakest, it could be that his powers couldn't handle the rate at which things were changing. If so, then he would only be an obstacle to Narinder. At first it would be fine, but if Leshy didn't get better, if the bishops couldn't cause meaningful change, new things, if change itself was making him sick and "Doubt tears faith asunder": wouldn't it be the one to "break ancient vow and primordial bond alike" be first in line for having the blame cast on them?

We don't have a clear idea on what shenainigains Narinder was up to, but both he and Shamura tell us one thing he was working on.

"The blame hangs heavy 'round my neck. I introduced him to ideas of change..." ".... Death cannot flow backward."

Bringing the dead back to life.

He praises you for doing so in response to one of his quests on his quest line. But that's not to say it's all he was working on.

--

Hang tight, because this bit is up for interpretation:

These guys.

Cute mushroom guys that infect you and try to turn you into a mushroom too, and once you die you can be replanted, again and again and again and again and a- its basically immortality!

They live in Narinder's domain, and yet they are Menticide Mushrooms from Anura given a follower form. They are unnatural, and fiercely hunted when they visit there, so they are not endemic to the area. If Narinder was playing with Nature's laws, turning mushrooms into people, or people into mushrooms, then what's to say he wasn't trying it on anything else?

Like say maybe... plants?

Yes.

Now technically a lot of enemies you fight have plant like features, so many in fact that it's like they were mass produced, existing everywhere except the silk cradle: Shamura's domain of war.

Now these plant creatures fight for the bishops, but that's not to say they are natural. We get normal frogs, insects, fish, etc, but we only get these plant-like worm followers after Leshy turns them into plant like creatures. I don't believe you can randomly happen across them. Perhaps these constructs were originally developed to ensure protection of his siblings, something to prevent them from wasting followers on defending their realms from weaker gods. Or launching assaults. After all, don't many people have a primordial bond to the land they grew up on? Having your favourite tree attack you would suck.

While maybe not a direct result of Narinder, although I wouldn't put it past him to look at a worm and crown and go "oh this'll be funny", I think it's possible that no other plant creature developed consciousness, that Leshy is special, unique, alone.

Perhaps everyone had different ideas on how to help him.

It's up to personal preference the order of events and the degree of sentience the plant enemies have, and thus the mental age of leshy when he became a god, but I'm inclined to think that Narinder still considers Leshy his baby brother, one who would be spared if he could.

(He also made the undead enemies you fight but that's probably obvious.)

But this is all speculation, entities like the gold loving tree exist, so there could be old entities that are plant based kicking around. And the mushrooms could just be from the giant dead god skull being a god of decay. It's hard to know for sure.

It'd be so funny if we could plant that mushroom and grow a giant god. Unlikely though.

-

So Leshy's existence is unprecedented, Chaos itself to many who see him. But why doesn't chaos help him? Narinder speaks about the "unordered beauty of his realm..." and his attack patterns are technically random, but most Bishops speak on their domain a lot.

Leshy doesnt.

"Winds of change blow; dost thou sense it? Around us, the world creaks and turns. Afore, it stood immobile. Motionless centuries grow rust. Now leshy has fallen..."

His domain was stagnant. Leshy is concerned with Narinder being a heretic, and thus you, because your rituals don't align with the old faith's practices. But since those "traditions stagnate", it makes sense why he is the least revered among his siblings, his grasp on the order, what those rituals are supposed to bring, isn't that good. He's probably just doing them because he's supposed to without understanding the greater purpose of them.

"The worm, it is hungry. It feeds. It partakes of our flesh. But that is the price for safety. For that we gladly give it all we have."

His average followers don't even use his name, or maybe they aren't really his followers at all? It's hard to know for sure.

"I recall Leshy. Prior to yourself, he was the last to bargain with me. Adept as he was, he rose quickly to the challenges of Godhood, aided by his siblings. Many were drawn to his chaotic ways"

He was helped out a lot by his siblings, likely to the point he would have died if he was alone.

do Narinder's siblings really think Narinder could have attempted to kill leshy after being perhaps monumental in causing his existence?

Part 2: yep.

Narinder says that Shamura "could never handle the multitudes of a being such as I" (paraphrased. I'm lazy.) Which we are to take as a statement on what he wanted to attempt with his power. With the sins of the flesh update however it might not be that simple.

Sup you slithery bastard.

What's key here is listening to how the other bishops talk about Narinder. Leshy refers to him as a heretic, Heket as a monster they chained below, Shamura as a brother and Narinder.

They used the term red crown for him, but with the notion of it's own independence Kallamar becomes the most relevant.

Kallamar: "Shamura, the Red Crown grows stronger by the day. Already it has succeeded where he has failed before. Leshy has been slain!"

There's a collective understanding of who "he" is. Narinder. But it is interesting that Kallamar never directly uses the term to refer to Narinder, only using pronouns. Isn't the vessel's success Narinder's success? This makes it sound like the red crown is an entity of its own, succeeding where Narinder failed, at least in Kallamar's mind.

It should be noted that Kallamar doesn't refer to you as the red crown during the events of the game. You are the vessel of it. Then when he needs to insult you, critter, beast. Then as a final plea, lamb. Before that however, after he figures out you arent leaving he tries to bargin with the crown directly.

It seems you cannot be stopped by disease or hunger. And he sends you back from death stronger each time. Please know, it was not my idea to cast out the Red Crown! The other Bishops, my siblings, the blame lies with them. Please, I beg you, spare me. Kill Shamura, but do not send me to my death. Do not send me to him!

Then finally, in post game, likely before seeing Kallamar again, when you have gathered enough sin the seller will ask you:

"I have dealt with Gods, and often pondered; does the Bearer wear the Crown, Or the Crown the Bearer?"

"Stay back! Stay away! Mercy, Red Crown, mercy..."

Of course once you have him as s follower and he realises you are not walking puppet for damnation personified he chills out.

According to the seller "Foolish though he may have seemed, he wielded the power of his Crown without discrimination." Meaning Kallamar might have the most experience with how screwy the crown may be on the minds of followers, and potentially gods if Chemach is anything to go by.

In this sense Kallamar might be the only one who believes Narinder to be innocent- in the sense that he was not in his right mind when he did whatever it was that made the bishops think he was trying to kill leshy- imagining him to be under some kind hypnosis, unable to tell friend from foe. So he always separates the two just in case. That being said, the need to imprison him for was probably encouraged by him.

Of course this all relies on the "he" mentioned being Narinder and not like Ratau or something. Kallamar does know him by name, weirdly enough. "Your friend Ratau was the last vessel sent against us," which begs the much funnier question that how does he know his name? Did they talk? Did Ratau just scream an introduction before every fight? Presumably that was decades ago Kallamar how do you even remember?

Not the worst ship I've seen.

All fun aside, some of Heket's lines can also be interpreted this way.

Heket: "So it is true. The Red Crown sits upon the brow of another."

"The Bishops… my family. Have they not suffered enough? Have I not suffered enough? We fought, pathetic vessel. We bled. We grieved. And yet the Red Crown wants more. No more."

"Pathetic, sniveling, vile puppet to the Red Crown. You have felled the youngest of us. We are the Bishops of the Old Faith. We protect against heresies such as yours. /....We will not tolerate such blasphemy. Your sins are many, and for that y... "

"You there, vessel of the Red Crown! Bow to me, or you will regret it!"

"It was not so long ago that we cast out the Red Crown. A mere thousand or so years. The heresy it preached could not be tolerated. Such noxious ideals... it could not be allowed. For this most damning of sins_"

The mention of sins and heresy is interesting because more less or we just got here. There's the idea that the crown itself is heretical, perhaps not just as a symbol. Since you know, it tells us to gather sin. But of course, in typical play you have murdered her followers in at least four crusades against Leshy then her so, plenty of heresy and sin there.

Theres no much we can gleam about Narinder's actions, but her dialogue suggests her battle with Narinder stemmed from what he wanted to accomplish/his vision for the future, rather than any attempts on Leshy's life- at least not directly- and considering Narinder says "Heket's words were more toxic and foul than the mushrooms that grew in her domain." I think they may have fought over policy and doctrine a lot. After all, nothing would be so wounding to Narinder than himself to be wrong and someone else to be right.

He calls her "arrogant" but Haro called her "temperamental". The two may not conflict, since haro also says she's "afeared by none" which is to say scared by nothing, not that in her rule nobody was scared of her. The seller calls her "vicious" and a "wicked beast", but also amusing in a way, which I'm more inclined to believe is him saying she was annoyingly persistent in trying to get past him into his portal thing than any form of true disdain. Then again she might have just eaten the god tears to see what they do instead of trading them. So many fun possibilities.

That being said, how do we reconcile Kallamar's belief that Narinder tried to kill Leshy with Heket's main complaint being his ideas?

Shamura.

Part 3: the tl;dr.

Shamura introduced Narinder to change, but according to Haro this should have been something he already knew from being around his siblings since their domains "transpose". Famine: feed. Plague: cure. War: peace. Chaos: order. So this has to be something different.

Shamura's domain used to be knowledge but now she is known for war. Her aspect changed, and it's likely this is what she means.

Narinder wanted to change Leshy's aspect. It would solve all his problems, allowing his other siblings to experiment instead of just stamping out anything new. Once he was set on his course Shamura couldn't stop him.

If leshy was already struggling and tried listening to Narinder and changing how everyone saw him, already having issues with cult management, this could have killed him. A god is nothing without followers. If Narinder started his plan without letting Leshy know, it definitely could have killed him.

The plan would require everyone's cooperation to work, rituals rewritten and spreading word of the change fast enough to keep it from being changed back. Shamura would have argued against it, noting issues that if brushed off by nari would set off Heket and they'd argue viciously, probably about Narinder's character and how callous ignoring the risks are. If Kallamar was put on the spot, already being a cowardly person he wouldn't be of any help. And the fight would continue.

It's possible leshy would have tried it just to stop his siblings, and done catastrophic damage to himself. After all, he's the only one who is said to eat the sacrifices directly. It's possible whatever happened forced him to need to eat food, something the gods usually don't bother with.

This would have cemented his belief in the rules as they are now, instead of however lax he may have been before. He may have liked the mushroomos or learning to make plant people before then and might have been the only one who was interested in what Narinder was doing and not trying to stop it.

You may think yourself righteous in your service to HIM. But you should not be so trusting of the Chained One.

He's the only one to comment on how your quest could be perceived as the right thing to do. He's been there himself and suffered for it.

Even so, Camellia still grows in the dark woods. They are the flowers that grow around any red crown rooms you may find, making them explicitly tied to Narinder.

And with Narinder's inability to celebrate his demise....

They couldn't quite bring themselves to hate the other.

#cult of the lamb #cotl narinder #cotl shamura #cotl leshy #cotl kallamar #cotl heket #cotl #cotl bishops #add it to the list #character analysis is pretty fun in this fandom. you get to hold up pieces and puzzle out how they fit. #cotl ratau #salty art

[traumendesmadchen]

After many years of troubled development, health issues and general bad luck, we are happy to announce that 

✨ Chronotopia: Second Skin will be released on October 13th. Friday the 13th. ✨

Isn’t it fitting for a cursed game to be released on an unlucky day? We thought it would be a good way to close this chapter of our misfortunes. An updated demo will also be made available a few days prior so you can refresh your memory!

Excited to finally be able to read the full story? Please consider sharing the announcement around you~

💜 Wishlist us on Steam 💜

Chronotopia: Second Skin is a unique rewriting of the Donkeyskin fairytale, a darker variation of Cinderella. Follow Kionna into a painful but ultimately rewarding search for her true self.

The plan was supposed to be simple, almost ridiculously so. When her father, driven mad by years of grief, suddenly decided to force her into marrying him, Princess Kionna enlisted the help of her childhood friend. Together, they managed to contact her long-lost fairy godmother. Surely, her powers would save her from this hellish fate. Kionna would be able to escape the castle, a prince charming would find her, and they would live happily ever after. Alas, magic can only do so much. Things keep spinning out of control. Trapped in an endless nightmare, the princess ceaselessly rewinds time in a race with death itself. Is a happy ending truly waiting for her at the end of the tunnel?

A captivating plot full of unexpected twists and existential dread

Over 200 000 words of content with multiple endings

3 romances can be chosen at the end of Kionna’s journey

Fun secondary things like gameplay phases and collectibles

Available in both English and French!

#visual novel #traumendes madchen #chronotopia #english visual novel #yuri #otome game #otome #amare game

[thatsexcpisces]

Astrology observations Pt. 7

I noticed that men with prominent cancer and Gemini placements or cancer/Gemini sun, Gemini-cancer cusp men are usually always gamers and are really into anime/marvel and always play different video games are interested in that type of nerdy stuff

Many talented or successful athletes have their moon in aries (ex. Lebron James, Tom Brady)

Moon in 6th house people stress over the slightest problems in their health or even minor injuries. People in my family have this placement and if they so much as break their pinky toe and have to wear a boot they complain about it for centuries

Cancer + aries placements in the big 6 = mentally unstable

Why are so many Aquarius men always attracted to pisces women💀 I swear they could be completely different people but there’s just something that draws the 2 of them to each other and it’s usually the aqua male chasing after the pisces. Maybe it’s their caring and sensitive nature they find interesting

Saturn in cancer individuals always have karma on their side when they least expect it. They may feel challenged and unlucky in life but they will always get the upper hand at the most unexpected moment

Men with their sun squaring/opposite their ascendant or men with mars in pisces/cancer tend to act overly cocky and are the type to shit on women when they feel rejected due to their big ego mostly bc of the fact that the masculine planets are influenced by more feminine energy and placements so they’re insecure and uncomfortable since they have defects in their masculinity ( for example, Andrew Tate has his mars in Pisces)

also men with prominent Pisces or libra placements in the big 6 also tend to have a sensitive ego and can’t handle rejection (esp moon)

for example:

*libra stellium or moon male asks you out*

*you reject them in the nicest way possible*

them: “okay fuck you ur ugly asf bitch”

Like? 😭😭

People with many 8th house placements in their chart are usually just interested in hookups and only save their commitment when they truly think they’ve found the right person

Sagittarius, Scorpios, and Capricorn’s always attract each other. I always see sag people being close friends with either other sag or Scorpio or Capricorn people

Pisces are more secretive and private than Scorpios imo it’s they live a secret life sometimes

Chiron/Saturn in 2nd house people may have grown up jealous of or resenting families or people who seemed to have it all or the “perfect life” in terms of money/wealth and they may have grown up in poverty/poor conditions which caused them to feel embarrassed of their background and financial situation

Why are cancer placements esp risings so passive aggressive? Like you can’t expect me to understand your inner thoughts if you don’t EXPRESS YOURSELF💀

Virgo moons always have some sort of IBS or stomach issues atleast one point in their life

Gemini/Sag suns and risings can’t sit still. like they always have to get up to move around after a few minutes or if they’re forced to stay put they fidget, bounce their leg, etc

Leo Venus secretly love when their partner is a little clingy cause they want that attention every now and then (unless influenced by more detached placements in the chart)

Scorpio Venus flirting style = staring at you every few seconds but not approaching

Ik so many Pisces moons who have alcohol addictions or did drugs/smoke a lot. Makes sense tho since the 12th house is also about addictions

Everyone says libra moons are the ones who are more likely to be fruity but imo it’s taurus and cancer moons 👀

Leo moons are the most loyal friends you will ever have. Speaking as Leo moon myself lol but tbh we really are the hype man of our friend group

Having Lilith in your 8th house could mean that you’ve also wanted to express your sexual desires and energy but felt restricted in some way. You’ve always been interested in discussing taboos others might’ve been uncomfortable with but maybe the environment you were in didn’t allow you to experiment with them.

Mutable mercuries tend to laugh in the wrong situations or at awkward/serious times. These people never take anything seriously and they love to make a joke out of everything. They could also have a dirty mind and and space out when anyone is talking to them (Virgo mercuries less than the others tho)

Sagittarius mercuries are so BLUNT it hurts. They won’t even think before saying what they want to say and confront you even if your feelings are gonna get hurt. These people have an attachment to telling the truth

Eating disorders are common in Taurus mars people

If you have Lilith or Medusa harshly aspecting your ascendant, it could mean that people (especially women) hated you for no reason. You enhance a lot of sexual appeal and raw beauty and that would make others jealous and envious of you. People probably also tried to include you in drama you had nothing to do with and gossip/make rumors bc so many people are obsessed with you and your life.

#astrology #astrology observations #zodiac #zodiac signs #aries #gemini #capricorn #taurus #leo #aquarius #libra #moon signs #planet #astrotips #zodiac observations #pisces #virgo #virgo moon #leo moon #cancer #sagittarius #rising sign #lilith #astrology aspects #aspects #natal chart