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linkspooky · 1 day

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The Next Gojo Satoru

As you've probably guessed I have a lot to say about this chapter. However, right away I want to start out by pointing out once again that the fandom is taking a mostly gojo-centric view of this chapter. Which I understand it's Gojo's body that's being puppeteered around and dehumanized in the exact same way that Kenjaku one of the sickest and most inhuman characters used Geto's body.

However I think it shouldn't be understated how shocking it is to see Yuta betray all of his values like this. The most human character who represents love in the cast has given up on the cast and betrayed someone he loves. So let's talk about what this all means for Yuta under the cut.

GOJO GETS AN F IN TEACHING.

I understand why most of the focus is on Gojo, because yes Gojo's body is the one being violated here. He's not even allowed to rest in death after fighting on the front lines against Sukuna to the point where his brain was hemmoraging in the middle of battle and he was brutally cut in half.

Considering how much horror Gojo experienced when he saw Geto's body taken from him and made into Kenjaku's pupet. Cosidering the horrible pain that Nanako and Mimiko endured just seeing Geto's body still moving around denied a good death (Nanako and Mimiko were tellingly willing to let go and not try to take revenge against Gojo for killing Geto because of their friendship even though Geto was their whole world, but they'd never forgive Kenjaku for taking his body). Considering that Gojo even went out of his way to say he wanted to kill Kenjaku / Geto on Christmas Eve again in order to give him a proper burial it's understandable how horrifying this update is.

This is also a series where the two main antagonists are parasites who take the bodies, and steal away all bodily autonomy from characters like Yuji and Megumi and then force them to do horrible things they would never do and bear witness to it, such as the slaughter at Shibuya, or the murder of Tsumiki at Megkuna's hands.

It's understandable how people had such a visceral reaction to this chapter. However, I think the fandom has a tendency to paint Gojo like he's the central victim of all of Jujutsu Society when he's both victim and perpetrator.

Gojo is someone who has only been regarded as the strongest his entire life, and been used as a tool to keep Jujutsu Society stable his entire life. Gojo is also someone who never tried to be anything other than the strongest, never tried to empathize with anyone other than those who were just as strong as he is, and who raised all of his students to be tools too.

To illustrate my point here's an incredibly similiar character from Tokyo Ghoul: Arima Kishou. They are so similiar that they're both white haired mentor characters to the protagonist, they're both the strogest in their respective worlds, and Gege straight up copied this section of panels from the Tokyo Ghoul Manga.

Arima is a breeding project, who was bred by the Washuu Family who mxies blood between humans and ghouls through a series of controlled marriages for the purpose of creating hybrid ghoul human children. Arima isn't the ideal hybrid they were looking for, but he was so ungodly talented he quickly rose to being the most powerful and well-respected investigator in the CCG.

However, this is how Arima reacts to the fact that his entire purpose in life was just to be a weapon to kill ghouls.

Arima loathes violence, he loathes being an investigator, he loathes himself most of all and designs his entire political revolution around him finally being killed by Kaneki - to punish himself and also to relieve himself of the burden of living a life where he was only meat to kill others.

Gojo on the other hand loves being the strongest, he lives for Jujutsu. Arima's death is tragic and nihilistic believing his life had no real worth because all he ever was was a weapon to hurt others, whereas Gojo died satisfied.

Arima's last battle against Kaneki is grim, silent, and tragic, he does everything he can to make Kaneki despise him, to force Kaneki to kill him by being the worst version of himself and when Kaneki still wants him to live he just slits his own throat because even if Kaneki forgives him he can't forgive himself. Gojo laughs his head off and has the time of his life fighting against Sukuna, and going out in a blaze of glory.

Gojo dies smiling, Arima dies finally breaking into tears after a life of pretedig to be cold and emotionless. Gojo's dying regret is 1) that Geto wasn't there to say goodbye to him, and 2) that he wasn't able to draw out all of Sukuna's strength. Arima's dying regret was all the pain and suffering he caused throughout his life and how he was never able to rise above his circumstances and be anything other than what he was born to be.

These two characters are incredibly similiar, they are both the strongest, and they were both made into tools by a dehumanizing system they were born into. However, their attitudes are entirely different. Gojo enjoys being strong, and yes part of it is that Gojo himself doesn't realize he's a victim or what society has groomed him into becoming, but the other part is just because it's an ego trip for him. Gojo doesn't see himself as the tragic victim his fandom makes him out to be.

If you were to transplant him into Tokyo Ghoul Gojo would be happily killing ghouls, and he would think killing ghouls is fun because he's the strongest and best at killing ghouls. This is the complexity that is Satoru Gojo, he has been dehumanized and put on a pedestal his ow life, but Gojo also enjoys being on that pedestal and won't ever step down from it willingly.

I'm not saying that Arima is a better person than Gojo. I think the fact that Gojo doesn't think of himself as a victim is tragic in its own right, because he lacks the self-awareness to actually grow and change as a person. In the end both Arima and Gojo believe they couldn't be anything better than what they were, and their only release is death which is just insanely sad to me because as long as the future exists people always have a chance to get better no matter who they are. To give up on the future, to see an early death as a good thing simply because you can't endure life any longer is one of the most hopeless things imaginable.

Gojo's not sad because he was born to be a tool exploited for society's benefit, he's sad because he was lonely. He doesn't even realize it's his own darn fault he's lonely, because not only has Shoko said that he's not alone she's always been right there, but this chapter we get a repeat of Gojo's students begging him to let them in and Gojo himself decided to draw that line between himself and others and thinking an enlightened, godlike being like himself can't possibly be understood.

All of this to say I think Gojo is the sole victim here, but he's the middle of a chain of of victimhood. I think ultimately the biggest victim here is Yuta, and yes I will not only play trauma olympics here I'm going to win.

If this chapter goes to show anything it's that Gojo has completely failed in his ideals of protecting the youth from the dehumanizing system of sorcerers that takes children and reduces them to cogs in a machine.

A lot of people criticize Jujutsu Kaisen for dropping basically all of its political elements and themes of reform in the second half after Shibuya, and while I understand the criticism I think Gege intentionally shifted away from politics because Gojo's political revolution was never going to succeed.

From the beginning Gojo's solution to reforming Jujutsu Society and it's habit of taking away the youth of children and raising them up instead as child soldiers is... to make stronger child soldiers.

This is Gojo's blindspot and it has always been Gojo's blindspot.

It's why Gojo is completely okay with someone like Mei Mei who at the best uses her brother as a human shield to get out of curse domains and has stolen his entire childhood away to make him own pet little shoulder, and at worst actively molests him.

It's why Gojo is stated in the databooks to have only taken an interest in Megumi and Yuta because they were strong.

Gojo understands that he's being exploited by Jujutsu Society, but doesn't understand you need to deconstruct unfair systems of power and exploitation in order to build something better. Gojo from the beginning only had one plan, and that was to replace the people at the top with his own allies who'd support his agenda. He just thought waiting for them to die out and the children to grow up was the more peaceful way of doing it.

Gojo's political revolution was doomed from the beginning and that's why we see him go back on his word this chapter and just slaughter everyone at the top. His choice of a new leader for Jujutsu Society is hardly better than the elders, the person who executed Gojo's teacher and tried to get all the children to kill Itadori early on. Good choice.

This is what Gojo said would happen though, if he just wiped everyone out at the top no real systemic change would occur because they'd just be replaced with someone who wasn't that differet. Gojo's just given up on the notion of lasting change out of pragmatism.

Which is why Gojo himself is not that different from the elders in the first place, not because he's a bad person but because he was shaped by that same society and he's the pinnacle of that society.

I think the thing is and this point often gets ignored - a lot of the choices the elders make are because of outdated traditions like choosing to oppress Maki and Toji just because they challenge the traditional notions of cursed energy.

However, some of the decisions they make are out of cold hard pragmatism. Gakuganji actually turned out to be right in his assassiation attempt against Yuji Itadori. If they had succesfully killed Yuji, then the massacre in Shibuya would have been prevented and likely Kenjaku's plans would have been pushed back. The elders didn't sentence Yuta to execution just to be cruel, or just because they're superstitious but because he's already had several incidents of nearly killing people because he can't control Rika.

It's easy to dismiss the Elders as evil because they're just faceless entities, but then we witness in this very same chapter the main characters making the same heartless decisions out of the same sense of pragmatism.

Gojo understands Jujutsu Society is flawed, but doesn't understand exactly why it's wrong. He doesn't raise his students to be independent free thinkers because then they might question him, he raises them to be very powerful because that's more pragmatic.

Here are the next generation of sorcerers who are going to bring about the change to Jujutsu Society that Gojo so desperately seeks.

Nobara Kugisaki: Dead

Hakari Kinji: His greatest ambition is to start a fight club

Yuji: Actively calls himself a mindless cog and just wants to kill whatever society points him at and tells him to kill.

Maki: Mass murderer.

Yuta: Just stole Gojo's body and said he had to become a monster i Gojo's place.

Megumi: Begging to be killed.

Inumaki: Tuna Mayo

Panda: Is a Panda

(Joke lovingly ripped off from @kaibutsushidousha)

I understand that fighting Sukuna takes precedence now, but do you think once the dust settles any of these characters are going to do anything to make lasting change?

Are we going to see anything for them at the end of the road other than a mountain of their fellow sorcerers corpses?

Gojo didn't nurture his students to grow into healthy adults, he raised them into stronger child soldiers and yes that's the pragmatic thing to do to help them survive in the Jujutsu World, but the elders make those decisions out of cold pragmatism as well.

MHA is also showing a story where the children are failing to learn from the previous generatio's mistakes, but it's far less frustrating to watch in JJK because it almost seems like that's the point?

Maki sacrificed Mai for the sake of becoming someone strong enough to reform the Zen'in Clan, only for her sister to die and Maki to slaughter the rest of her family failing in both her goals to reform her clan and protect Mai.

Yuji became the host of Sukuna in order to help others, because the total deaths of people in the world would go down if he ate all the fingers. Not only did that decision lead to the death of thousands in Shibuya, but he's even lost his role of being Sukuna's host to Megumi.

Yuta wanted to find a reason to live and a purpose in protecting his friends, and also wanted to pay back the man who saved him, not only is Yuta choosing to die in a way that breaks his friends heart he's also violating his beloved teacher's bodies.

There's a lot of arcs like this where characters fail in what they set out to accomplish, because like in most tragedies they don't try to grow as people they only care about getting stronger. It's the same choice over ad over again, a decision made of cold pragmatism that brings about their tragic ending.

I think it speaks to why systems like this perpetuate themselves, because it becomes so hard to hold onto your humanity that even trying gets you actively punished all the while people like Mei Mei crawl to the top. However, even if you throw your humanity away purely as an act of survival you're still helping perpetuate that system instead of fighting against it.

Anyway, that's enough hating on Gojo, onto the main event.

THE NEXT GOJO SATORU.

It's almost masterful how perfect the foreshadowing for this chapter's twist was. Yuta sharing a common ancestor in Sugawara with Gojo.

The irony that Kenjaku said out loud that someone like Yuta could never become Gojo, on top of the fact that Yuta's true power comes from detaining his loved ones soul. He's turning Gojo's body into a weapon the same way that he once used Rika's vengeful cursed spirit as one (he even channels her strength into a sword, the same way Maki uses the sword that Mai gave her life to create in battle).

The way that Yuji's first impression of Yuta from his powerful presence and cursed energy alone was calling him someone even creepier than Gojo.

The idea that Kenjaku has been trying to get his hands on the six-eyes for years, which is what led most of the fandom to theorize a possible Kenjaku return by stealing Gojo's corpse. The fact Tengen said the six eyes, himself and the star plasma vessel are all connected and one time Kenjaku killed the six-eyes from a child only for another one to appear right away.

Yuta being told he could never reach Sukuna's heights because he lacks the selfishness of a calamity.

Even Yuta trying to tell a nameless assassin Uro to be less selfish, only to be chastised by her for not understanding because it's impossible for someone as blessed as he is to know what it's like to not have a name, to not have a face, to not be someone important.

Now here Yuta is, not only is he making the selfish decision to use his teacher's body as a tool, he's also most likely in five minutes going to die in someone else's body, having sacrificed not only his name, and face, but also his personal values in order to become a monster.

This arc makes it seem like Yuta's gone against everything he's stood for, making his arc a complete circle from Jujutsu Kaisen Zero and that's kind of the point. Heck, even something as small as Yuta's decision to show mercy to Ishigori was rendered pointless because Sukuna immediately killed him soon after taking Megumi's body.

If Yuta's regressed in his character it's because Gojo's purpose was not to raise these children into healthy adults, but strong soldiers.

What happened to Yuta is a direct consequence of the way Gojo recruits these children, and the underhanded motivations he has behind those recruitments.

Yuta's decision to take Gojo's body is more tragic on Yuta's part then it is on Gojo's, because Yuta is a child, and Gojo is an adult.

It is sad that Gojo is all alone, that he's forced to become a tool to society, but Yuta shouldn't be the one who feels responsible for that. Gojo is supposed to protect Yuta, he's the adult, the teacher, the one with power and Yuta is the child. Yuta is not the one who should be making this speech because it is not Yuta's responsibility to do any of this - but Yuta thinks it is because he owes Gojo.

However, when Gojo recruits people it's with the unspoken implication that they now owe him. He wants them to feel indebted, because then they'll be easier to use as pieces in his intended political revolution. We see this blatantly with the way he recruited Megumi.

I'll make sure you and your sister don't starve but you owe me in the form of labor later on in your life.

Gojo saved Yuta because he thought Rika was powerful and the elders were foolish for executing a potentially powerful sorcerer for THE GREATER GOOD instead of teaching him to control his power out of fear. Gojo recruited Yuji, because someone with Sukuna's power and who could eat his fingers as a vessel had the makings to be an incredibly powerful sorcerer. Gojo didn't even think of Megumi until after Geto defected, and Gojo decided he needed to start making changes to Jujutsu Society.

While Gojo's pragmatism is understandable to a point it also poisons his more nobler intentions. Since Gojo expects payment in return when he sticks his neck out for people, because these children are assets first and children secod.

I think Gojo likes Yuta. I think he gets along with him well. Yuta clearly respects him as a mentor. He did in fact go to great lengths to save Yuta from execution. He was right that it was more ethical to teach Yuta to control his powers rather than execute him for the danger he might represet. He even gives Yuta emotional advice a couple of times.

However, if Yuta was just like a grade 4 sorcerer with no special talent I doubt Gojo would have blinked at his execution. He sees Yuta for his talent first, and his potential to become someone like him. If anythig there are clear comparisons to both Megumi and Yuta. They're both prodigies born with incredible techniques, but Yuta is a lot more receptive to Gojo's grooming than Megumi is who's too traumatized to function. Gojo's not just grooming Yuta into being a powerful sorcerer, but another version of himself.

So it's almost karmic that not only does Yuta basically turn his back on everything that makes Yuta himself (his love for people, his desire to live and be surrounded by others), he also does so by literally becoming Satoru Gojo and transplanting his brain into Gojo's body.

Because Yuta is despite possessing a similiar level of talent as far from Gojo as possible. Gojo is not well liked by his comrades, he's there because he's needed due to his power. Yuta on the other hand has everyone vehemently disagreeing with his backup plan in the event of Gojo's death because they don't want to lose him.

People need Gojo, they want Yuta because of the connections that Yuta has made with them and because they care about Yuta as a person. Gojo is someone who deliberately draws a line between himself and others because he believes the strongest can't be comprehended, Yuta only fights for the sake of being accepted by others because he needs their approval in order to live.

Yuta's now turned his back on those two things, his tendency to put his loved ones first, and his desire to live, both because he feels he owes Gojo.

This comes about because of two factors, number one Gojo helping him with the implication that this help means that Yuta owes him something which makes Yuta desperate to pay him back and therfore easy to mold, and number two Gojo's intentions to begin with to take Yuta and make another Gojo out of him. To make a successor who would carry on the same burdens that Gojo did.

Gojo succeeded one hundred percent in making his successor as opposed to Megumi who turned out to be too different from Gojo i the end. He took what make Yuta unique and ironed out all those wrinkles until he was left with someone willing to make the same inhumane, pragmatic decisions that Gojo was.

I think it's tragic that as much as Gojo wanted to make things better for the next generation, he basically led Yuta down the same road he did, to make the same choice to throw his humanity away along with all of his loved ones. Especially since Yuta started out in such a different place.

Yuta has learned to become selfish like Gojo, because selfishness is apparently now the only way to get by in this world. A cycle that has been started with the elders, and continued on with Gojo, remains unbroken as Yuta becomes just another link in the chain. Yuta's likely going to die in a stranger's body, leaving all of his friends behind to mourn him, but even if he lives what life will that be exactly?

It speaks to the arcs in Jujutsu Kaisen that they're all kind of circles at this point. We have this heartwarming goodbye of Rika telling Yuta to live, and Yuta's whole arc was to learn to try to live without Rika and make new friends, but it's now likely goig to end with Yuta dying a year after Rika finally moved on.

Choso was told to try living on as a human and Yuki even sacrificed her life to give him the opportuity to escape the fight, and he only lived a month longer to die right in front of Yuji's eyes.

Gojo put all of his hope in the next generation, but now not only did he put all the power in Gakuganji's hands but he ended up dying a year after Geto did just like Yuta will likely die a year after Rika.

I think these character arcs are turning out to be circles because the characters aren't actually doing anything to try to break the cycles that they're trapped inside of - they're only trying to get stronger. Which is why they end up resembling the actions of the villains, Yuji becoming more curselike, Yuta stealing Gojo's body the way Kenjaku did with Geto's.

It reminds me of a quote from Critical Role that I absolutely adore.

“I have just taken an audience with the Raven Queen who has snuffed any hope of my redemption, for which I am truly grateful. With new clarity, I can finally see my life as a series of compounding, poor choices.” Vax winces. “There was nothing I could’ve done to save my family, yet I still sold my soul in search of vengeance. Later I allowed Ripley to leave, knowing full well she was a greater threat to the world than the Briarwoods would ever be. I traded the world’s safety for the belief that I could murder my way to peace; that if I could be a greater horror, it would bring my family back. And once this lie was shattered I scrambled to find asolution, to make a deal, to undo my mistakes and balance the scales. I nowunderstand that there are no scales, there is no redemption, and no ledger that judges me good or evil. I am free to simply be myself and live with the terrible mistakes I’ve made."

Especially this sentence: I believed I could murder my way to peace; that if I could be a greater horror, it would bring my family back.

Maki is a character that I have not found all that interesting in a while because she committed such a huge mass murder, only for it to have no consequences in the narrative and never be mentioned again, but this chapter she suddenly became an interesting character again.

Maki who lost everything but gained strength, doesn't seem all that bothered by the loss. People compare Megumi's reaction to losing Tsumiki to Maki's reaction to losing Mai, but Megumi's reaction is much more interesting because it's always better to see a character be weak and fall apart then to be strong and power through things.

However, maybe the reason Maki hasn't experienced any grief at all towards Mai and has instead delighted in her newfound strength and independence is because of this, because she still had Yuta.

Maki is a character who's not really said anything other than exposition the past like twenty chapters, but now she's the most vocally against Yuta sacrificing himself for the greater good. Yet this is against Maki's own ideology of doing everything you can to be stronger, to win. Maki was always about individualism, not about friendship or the bonds between others, she severed her own bonds to be free. Yet, she can't stand to see Yuta do the same thing as her, to become more like her.

This might be the consequence of Maki's continued choice to value freedom and the power to achieve that freedom over all else. Now, the one time Yuta is trying to throw away the same things that she threw away she can't say anything meaningful or convince him to stop him.

Which reminds painfully of this chapter as well.

Mai killing herself in order to free Maki from cursed energy is an obvious parallel to Sukuna devouring his own twin in the womb, but the difference is in this situation Maki didn't want Mai to go, she begged her not to. However, just like with Yuta there was nothing Maki could ahve said or done by that point to convince Mai to stay. Maki has always chosen power over her sister, she's always abandoned Mai, so what exactly can she say to convince her that she cares more about Mai more? That her dream of defeating the Zen'in and having revenge against them isn't worth the price if it comes at the sacrifice of Mai?

Maki didn't want to abandon Mai, or for Mai to sacrifice herself, but tragically her every action indicated otherwise. It all comes down to this: I believed I could murder my way to peace; that if I could be a greater horror, it would bring my family back.

Maki seems to have achieved peace by murdering the Zen'in, but we see the same kind of circular arc that we have for Yuta.

Maki gave up on everything for strength, but Maki's not strong enough to finish Sukuna then and there, forcing Yuta to sacrifice himself the same way Mai did.

Maki can't talk Yuta out of making that sacrifice, or come up with any convincing argument with why he shouldn't because of all the choices she's made before this.

Maki chose to murder her way to peace, but it came at the cost of her humanity and growth and thus she's faced again with the exact same situation with Mai and she's forced to watch her heart be taken from her again.

It goes to show that we think these characters are getting stronger but they're actually sacrificing something vitally important.

These characters are just going to keep going around in circles and you have to wonder just when is it going to stop?

#yuta okkotsu #gojo satoru #jjk meta #jujutsu kaisen meta #yutamaki #jujutsu kaisen theory #jjk 261 #jujutsu kaisen 261 #jjk 261 spoilers #jujutsu kaisen 261 spoilers

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days

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All In 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: sleepy af

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“You need a box, doll?” Bucky flutters his fingers toward your plate, “you don’t gotta finish all that.”

You look down at the untouched half of your sandwich. You’d barely poked at the pesto salad on the side either. You can’t help it; your stomach is swirling like a storm. Aside from that, you’re so self-aware that you make certain each bite is tidy and small.

You bring the napkin to your lips before you answer, “oh, sure, I guess. Um, thank you.”

“You have a big breakfast?” He wonders as he lifts his glass, squinting at its emptiness.

“I...” you sniff. You didn’t eat at all. “I’m too nervous.”

You cringe as your honestly flows free. You don’t know why you said that. Maybe it’s the similarly empty glass in front of you. He smiles, his dimples showing handsomely on his bearded cheeks.

“You don’t gotta be,” he sets the glass down, his forearm across the table. “Is it me? I make you nervous.”

You look away and cup your chin. You purse your lips and inhale slowly. You dare to face him again. You nod into your hand.

“What about me makes you nervous?” He wonders, his eyes sparkling. It has to be obvious. So obvious that he must be teasing you.

“You know,” you murmur.

“Genuinely curious,” he clears his expression and sits back, “we’re having a good time. Good chat. So... you’re nervous, why?”

“Because you’re...” your brows squiggle, “you. I’m just me.”

“And what’s so bad about being just you?”

You scoff, “I think... maybe you made a mistake. I’m not... anything.”

“What does that mean?” He prompts.

Before you can answer, Hailee appears. The slim server offers you a refill. Bucky waits for you to answer first. You decline and he puts his hand over his own glass.

“We’ll take the cheque,” he says and she flits off to do his bidding. He returns his attention to you before you can shrink further, “well... what do you mean?”

Your eye drift evasively. He just latches on and doesn’t let go. It’s overwhelming. You watch Hailee as she taps the tablet on the bar top across the roof. You glance at Bucky again.

“I’m not tall or thin or a supermodel,” you say quietly. He leans in as he tilts his head thoughtfully.

“If I wanted that, that’s who would be sitting here with me. I don’t mind that you’re a little small. It’s... I like it, actually. And a supermodel? Doll, those types got nothing on you.”

You touch your cheeks then drag your hands away, “thanks, but...”

“But?” He echoes.

“Nothing. Nothing,” you assure him meekly, “I just... I’m not sure about all this.”

Hailee once more returns. She hands Bucky the bill and he doesn’t even look at it as he slides his wallet out of his pocket. He hands her his card and the slip of paper. Once more, she’s off.

“Not sure?” He says.

“Sorry, I just...” once more you look at the server as she swipes his card. When you look back, Bucky’s watching you intently, “please keep your money. You paid for lunch, that’s enough.”

“But doll--”

“Please, I don’t feel right taking it,” you put your palms out and drop your hands, “thank you for lunch but I’m not cut out for this.”

“Hm,” he clicks his tongue and leans his chin on his knuckles, “don’t decide right now. I get it. It’s a lot at once. So think about it and get back to me.”

“I... I’m telling you,” you wilt, “I don’t think... I’m not what you think I am.”

“I have no idea what you are, doll,” he extends his fingers under his chin, “but I like what I see and I want more.”

You shakily bring your hand to your neck. He can’t mean it. He can’t want you. No way. If you say yes, how long does that last? You didn’t come here for lunch or an ‘arrangement��. You need a job. You need something sustainable.

Besides, you never thought you’d ever consider being a prostitute. That’s what he’s suggesting, isn’t it? You’re pathetic but you have some standards.

You sigh. You said no once, maybe more, maybe not firmly enough, but he’s not hearing you. So you will ‘think about it’ and repeat yourself later.

“Alright,” you agree as you lean back and pull your hands into your lap.

“All I’m asking for is a chance,” he says. Your heart pulses tightly. He’s asking you? “Let’s get your leftovers packed up and I'll take you home.”

“Oh, uh, I can get a cab--”

“Nah,” he waves you off, “I’m here. Merv’s gotta get me back to the casino as it is.”

🃏

“You’ll call me, won’t you, doll?” Bucky asks as Merv stops outside the curb of your mother’s house.

You peek up through the tinted window and back at the man beside you. He shamelessly has his arm stretched over the seat above your shoulders, the scent of his cologne invading your nostrils. You nod dumbly before you process his words.

“Yeah, I will,” you assure him as you undo your seat belt and untangle your purse from the strap.

“Don’t leave me hanging,” he pulls his arm away and brushes your shoulder then down your sleeve.

“I won’t, like I said... I’ll think about it,” you reach for the handle and he hums.

“I had a good time. I like talking to you, doll.”

You stop yourself from fleeing like you so desperately want to do. You turn back to him. You’re struck by him, not for the first time. Someone like him noticed you and did all this. It feels like you’re drowning. You can barely think straight.

“Me too. It was really nice,” you breathe.

He stares at your, almost expectantly, and his lips curve slightly. Are you forgetting something? Heat speckles over your cheeks. Is he leaning in?

“Hey, don’t forget your leftovers,” he sits back and reaches to the other side of the seat, picking up the box.

“Oh, thanks,” you take it, your fingers touching his.

“Don’t let me keep you, ‘cause I will,” he winks, “I’m sure you got someone waiting for you.”

“Uh, yeah, my mom won’t be home yet but...” you suppress your irrelevant thoughts. You’ll give the sandwich and salad and to Roxie. She never complains for free food. “Yeah, er, thanks.”

He chuckles and claps his hand down on your leg, “too sweet, doll. It’s my pleasure and there’s a lot more where that came from.” He squeezes and removes his hand, “just making a last-ditch case for myself.” He inhales and his shoulders rise and he fixes his collar, “have a good one, alright? Take it easy, think...”

“I will,” you affirm once more, “er, bye.”

You open the door and barely keep from tripping onto the curb. You peer back one last time and attempt a smile, trying to hide the sinking pit in your chest. You don’t need to think about it. You simply cannot give him what he wants.

You shut the door and back up. You stand cluelessly and wait. When the car doesn’t move, you spin and scurry away. God, how much more awkward can you get?

You resist the urge to look back as you let yourself in through the front door. The TV babbles from the next room as you twist the lock. Roxie lazes across the couch as the fan oscillates over her. The summer heat has the space stuffy and sticky. The rented house doesn’t have central air and the portable AC crapped out last year.

“Hey,” you come up to the back of the couch, your anxiety still buzzing behind your ears. You feel different and you feel like she’ll sense it in an instant. You almost want her to say something.

She doesn’t look away from the screen as she grumbles back at you.

“Um, mom’s not home yet, right?”

“Don’t think so,” she yawns, her arm draped above her head against the arm rest. “It’s like three. You sleep all day?”

You frown. She usually sleeps later, granted, she works until sunlight most nights.

“No, I had an interview.”

“Huh, Wendy’s?” She asks. It’s probably an innocent question and a fair assumption, but it still cuts like an insult.

“No, uh, whatever, I don’t think I got it.”

“Too bad,” she says.

You leave her. She’s too enraptured with her reality TV binge. You suppose if you were just waiting to start working, you might just want to shut off too. That’s exactly what you want in that moment. To stop thinking about everything.

It’s not just Bucky and his offer or whatever you should call it. It’s about your mom and Roxie and being the resident disappointment. You don’t like being dead weight but it seems like it’s all you’ll ever be. There’s more than just yourself to think about in this and yet you just can’t see yourself saying yes.

You don’t really know what you’re saying yes to. What is it exactly that Bucky wants from you? Sunny lunches and conversations about disco music? You don’t think that’s it but you’re too afraid to think about the implication behind his proposition.

So you won’t. You won’t-- you can’t accept it. You can’t bring yourself to do... that for money. If you did and your mother ever knew the truth, you shudder to think. No, you can tell an easier lie.

Sorry, mom, didn’t pan out. Again. But I’ve been applying all around. I’ll get something.

🃏

The first text Bucky sends, you respond to. It’s the same day as your interview. No, that’s not what it was. He sends a good night and you echo the sentiment. It’s easier to pretend behind a screen.

You don’t sleep well despite his tidings. You toss and turn and don’t drag yourself out of bed until noon. Your mom’s already at work and you can’t stand to face her. Not since you told her it was another dead end. Roxie’s snoring in her room.

You go out on the back steps and sit in the sun. It’s all muddled. You know you shouldn’t. You won’t. That’s not you. And even if you could find the courage to say yes, you’re just not that girl. You aren’t the one to be flaunted on a rich guy’s arm. Or the kind to go for manicures and to wear layers of contour. And that’s what he’ll want, even if he says now, it isn’t. Men just want pretty things and you’re not.

The days pass in a similar idle daze. Every night, he texts. A little back and forth but you say you’re tired and check out after his usual, ‘sweet dreams, doll.’ Two days, three days, four, five, six. A whole week and you know that you have to say it. No. It’s almost as hard as a yes would be.

When the ‘good morning’ pops up in your notifications, you’re frozen. You can’t even fake it. You can’t hit the automated reply generated by the app. You just lock your phone and put it in your nightstand drawer. You’re a coward, just like you’ve always been.

You scroll through the job boards. You’ve been spending most of your waking hours trawling them. The postings don’t come as quickly as you apply. Some, you’re sure, you’ve submitted your resume to at least twice. Well, that shows dedication, right?

You hear your mom come home just after five. You finally sit up from your chronic hunch and groan at the pang between your shoulders. Ugh, that’s not good. You get up and come out as your mother sighs and drops her purse on the table.

“Hey, I took some drumsticks out,” you say, “I’m gonna do the buffalo sauce.”

“Oh, hon, that’s amazing, I’m so tired,” she drops into a chair and props a foot on her knee, rubbing her arch, “I need new insoles.”

You watch her guiltily, chewing your lip. Even if you’re not going to say yes, you almost wish you’d taken that thousand dollars. She wouldn’t have to do overtime so much. You cross your arms.

“What do you want with it? We got some of the crinkle fries or--”

The doorbells chimes and you hesitate. It isn’t often it rings. Not for anyone by the landlord on an impromptu visit. You peer over at the same time as your mom. She sends you a curious look as she stands.

She hobbles away and you feel guilty for letting her. You shy away and wait by the counter. You listen to her footfalls and the schlock of the front door latch as she slides it back. It opens with the usual squeak and you hold your breath as you listen. A low drone meets your mother’s exhausted hello.

Oh. It wouldn’t be... It can’t be. You assure yourself that you don’t recognise the timbre but even your denial isn’t that strong.

Slowly, you make your way to the hall and creep down towards your mom as she keeps the door half-way shut against her. It’s him. You hear him say your name. Oh gosh.

“I’m just following up on her interview. I called but maybe her battery died?” Bucky says.

You wince and near your mom.

“Uh, yes, she’s here, I’ll just go--”

“Mom,” you interject and she jumps in surprise.

“Oh,” she trills with laughter, “there she is.”

She lets the door open as you step up next to her, your chest fraught with dread. You stare at Bucky as his blue eyes bore into you. Your mom touches your elbow gently. You’re suddenly overly conscious of your pajama pants and baggy tee.

“I’ll let you two... chat,” she retreats and leaves you there to his mercy. You can’t beg her to stay without giving yourself away.

As she heads back down the hall, you step outside and draw the door shut. You know better than to trust her not to eaves drop. How many times had she listened through the doorway when Roxie had one of her boyfriends over.

“Hey, doll,” Bucky crosses his arms. Is he mad? Does he know you were ignoring him or does he really think your phone died?

“Hi, uh...”

“You didn’t answer my texts,” he intones.

“Um, yeah, I... I’ve been... distracted.”

He nods, a skeptical wrinkle in his forehead, “sure. It's been a week, lots of time to think.”

You gape up at him. He wants an answer. Now. You have one, but you just can’t say it. You’re silent as tension roils in the humid air. He swoops back a dark lock but doesn’t break his gaze.

“Look, I... I appreciate your offer and everything else but what you’re asking... if my mom knew...”

“Hm, yeah,” he puts his hands on his hips, “I thought of that too. You’re a sweet thing and I can see she loves you. It’s unorthodox but I only wanna take care you. Not everyone will understand that.”

“Right, so I don’t think--”

“Well, I think she’d be more suspicious if you walked in there and told her I came all the way here not to offer you a job,” he insists, “don’t you?”

“Y-yeah, but--” you sputter.

“So, she doesn’t need to know why I’m here, does she? You can tell her you’re working at the casino.”

“Sure, but I don’t...” you shake your head and look down. He’s right.

If you tell your mom you missed out on another job, you don’t think you could ever look her in the eye again. It wouldn’t just be another let down but an actual lie. You have an opportunity here. Maybe not the one you thought, but it’s money. After years of living off your mom’s hard work, you owe her. What’s a secret to her not having to work twelves?

“We get along, don’t we?” He asks.

You nod. He’s been less than unkind. You can’t really name a single fault on his part.

“So, I don’t get it. The money, it’s just a bonus,” he explains, “don’t think of it as me paying you to spend time with me, so much as us enjoying each other and both getting the perks from that.”

“But... but...” you wet your lips with your tongue and clamp them tight.

He’s cornered you. If you had a few more hours, you could’ve found the strength to take your phone out and type out your rejection but face-to-face? You’re hopeless and you think he knows that. He watches you expectantly. He isn’t hoping, he knows.

You blow out between your lips and turn your head away, “she can’t ever know.”

“Doll, for you, I'll keep my lips sealed,” he says, “whatever you want, you got it. That’s the deal.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #casino au #all in #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america #winter soldier

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redbuddi · 2 days

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as the voice of silver in the fandubs I can't help but feel partially responsible for the characterization of silver in fandom as a sad lil' uwu bean, so I'd like to clarify that I didn't play him like that because that's how I saw the character, personally I've always seen him as an awkward teenager trying to do the right thing but self-conscious about what that thing might be overall, with a bit more edge and determination to the 06 silver specifically.

I don't think there's anything terrible about having readings of characters that might not be entirely accurate, since art is generally half intent and half interpretation, but as a fan of Silver one of my favorite things about him is his boundless determination to keep trying to make things better, and so I fully understand how frustrating it can be to see a lack of appreciation for those parts of him in favor of a simplified softboy.

No shame to the people who do see him that way, people can enjoy media however they want as long as it isn't hurting anybody, but if my performance as Silver played a part in that then I do think you should know that I wasn't trying to make an accurate depiction of the character as I saw him, I was just portraying a character that I felt would play well comedically with both the established characters from earlier dubs and with what I knew would happen in the 06 cutscenes (like when Silver gets kicked in the head), and it might be better to interpret that Silver as a separate character from the ones in the games/comics.

#sonic #silver the hedgehog #real time fandub #sonic real time fandub

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sabertoothwalrus · 2 days

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OK PREFACING WITH IM SORRY IF I ALREADY SENT THIS EXACT ASK BUT MY WIFI KILLED ITSSLF AS I SENT IT SO IDK IF IT ACTUALLY WENT THROUGH. but in case it didn’t . i know youve gotten this countless times in the past because i blog stalked just in case youve mentioned something similar before but i need to know if you have any specific inspirations when you draw exaggerated expressions specifically like these two images of marcille. ive actually cried laughing over this comic and being able to communicate this type of visceral emotion is such an insane skill and ive followed your art for probably close to a decade through various fandoms so watching you develop this style has been fucking awesome and epic. like i cannot articulate how funny these are to me i just need you to understand i look at this comic to inspire me to draw now. the closest comparison i can draw to the feelings they evoke are like those mspaint reaction images and also mspaint tails i included for reference even though you probably know exactly what im talking about anyways but its actually so much harder to do that intentionally when you study art. also i lied you literally don’t even need to answer this i just had to let you know how obsessed i am over your silly comics and now ive written out a whole ass discussion post about it. im sorry if this is weird at all i think my daily prescribed amphetamines r wearing off and i know this is such a dumb specific thing to fixate on and im so sorry if its not something you want to hear about your art. ive just always seen that as an artist this type of expressive stupid silly style is something that comes after a significant amount of time and practice and study and style development despite being “simple” in theory. its just so cool to have worked with your own style so much that youre able to go “off model” from it and still maintain consistency with the rest of the piece. i said it already and im sorry this is actually rendundant now but the ability to communicate such raw emotion somehow decreases from at its height when someone is a beginner artist learning how to proportion and keep a steady line and what looks “normal” but somehow it all comes full circle because taking all that experience and using it to almost return to where you started but in a fully informed and intentional way so you can make choices to draw characters like this when the situation calls for it is just dhcidogakgoshfhw. i think i need to cut myself off or im going to talk in circles im sorry tumblr user sabertoothwalrus i just am fascinated by your style and progress and the years you’ve dedicated to art can be seen in so many places but this is just one that stands out to me specifically.

MMMMM what a fun question!!!

I'm not gonna lie, I think it's just Letting A Drawing Be Bad. I definitely think the people that struggle with this the most are people who have genuinely very pretty art styles, to the point of being kind of perfectionist about it. and to Draw Funny often means Drawing Fast and Weird. Pretty is kind of the antithesis of funny (unless being pretty is the punchline). do drawings that make yourself laugh. tracing/lining funny sketches almost always makes them less funny.

one of my favorite types of humor is when it skews more deadpan, actually. This is one of the reasons I love Adventure Time. minimal expressions and flat line delivery + absurd context is a really good combo. the key to comedy has more to do with contrast! if your drawings are allllll crazy ren & stimpy all the time, they're not funny anymore cause it's just "normal". if it's all subdued UNTIL it's extreme, and vice versa, then it's funny. The reason this comic is so funny is because of the complete lack of any expression. I feel like the one you sent of Marcille shouting "WHAT" is funnier when you know how much she tries to be dainty and feminine and delicate, how much she values her appearance, and how averse she is to "gross" or "weird" things.

something I find really annoying (and this is with comics/animation in general, not the expressions themselves) is when the joke goes on for too long. Like you'll have the joke, then the punchline, and THEN the characters reacting to the punchline??? Like the author didn't trust that their audience would find the joke funny, so they basically drew in a laugh track. But, this is distinct from a character's reaction being the punchline (like how the examples you gave from my Marcille comic are). MY POINT IS sometimes expressions aren't as funny on their own as you think, and context can affect how you feel about it!

as far as inspirations go!

my own face! even if I don't have a mirror, I like making the expressions myself so I can "feel" where the points of tension on my face are, and it gives me a sense of what to exaggerate.

my brother's art, believe it or not! we've been trying to make each other laugh with our drawings since we were kids, and he's really good at it.

ATLA has some great expressions

OK KO has been a reallyyyy good source for me lately. That show is so tailored to my sense of humor and the expressions and line deliveries feel exactly like the kinds of things I'd come up with. The tone, timing, and art style are all really close to the tv show pitch I'm working on, so when I feel like I've "strayed" too much from it (like after drawing a bunch of dungeon meshi, and my art feels tighter and... idk "manga-ier"?) I like to go and watch a couple episodes of OK KO to loosen back up

A lot of things like OG Spongebob, Calvin & Hobbes, the Simpsons, Chowder, etc etc

memes in general. if it makes you laugh, keep it in mind

and lastly, I wouldn't say I ever try to mimic funny expressions I see. Like if I watch a show for inspo, I'm not pausing it to copy specific drawings, I'm just trying to notice patterns and pay attention to what about it I find funny.

talking about being funny is really bizarre and I dunno if it makes it lose some of the magic. Ultimately it's something you can't think about too much, and just gotta go with your gut.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 days

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Have you heard the theory that Leona knows about the light trio and their cosmic magic being different? Leona knows a lot of things other people don’t like about Styx and getting all quiet when he learns that Grim has been eating blot stones. He knew Jamil was sus and intended to harm Kalim too. If you look at his room he has a chess board with what looks like a rook knight and pawn. Rook = Rook, knight = Silver, pawn = Kalim. What do you think?

*squints* Holy crap, you're right 😳 Those look like rook, knight, and pawn chess pieces in Leona's room...

The color and specific pieces are way too oddly specific and match too well with the light trio??? Rook as the rook piece is the obvious one since they share a name. Silver is an actual knight, making him fitting for the knight piece. And then we have Kalim, who is the "pawn" used in Jamil's scheme. It can also be said that he's generally easily manipulated due to his trusting nature, which also makes him suit the pawn piece.

I'm not sure if there was any intended meaning behind this design choice, but I like the interpretation that Leona knows more than he lets on. It's very in line with his character and how he is highly intelligent but chooses to not speak about what he knows until it's relevant and suits his agenda. You've already pointed out some of the examples of Leona having more knowledge than the average person, so I won't reiterate them here. Thank you for sharing this theory! It's such a subtle background detail that it could be easily overlooked; I don't think I would have noticed it otherwise.

#twisted wonderland #twst #Leona Kingscholar #Rook Hunt #Jamil Viper #Kalim Al-Asim #Silver #Scarabia #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #question #Grim #twst theory #twst theories #twisted wonderland theories #twisted wonderland theory

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ao3commentoftheday · 1 day

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On a whim and because I was momentarily taken by a new fandom I had made a requests accepted fic where I took in requests. From a few requests I wrote I got two requests from the same person and wrote them but they were so annoying because all the response I got was "I want this to be longer"

That was something that added to me eventually not being as into the fandom anymore and so I haven't written the other requests for a long while.

It's part many things and is also because the fandom is very very new so the characters' personalities aren't that known yet so I'm not quite sure how to characterize them in my writing. So I feel a bit guilty about not writing the other requests and regret completing the request of the disrespectful person first, I didn't know they'd be like that until they commented that reaction to what I wrote.

Sorry for the ramble but TLDR how does a writer handle feelings of guilt from not completing requests quickly? Like I think it's been months now.

... and it's been even more months since you dropped this ask in my inbox, sorry!

To start with, I'm just going to flag for folks that you should not post "I'm taking requests" works on AO3. It's against the Terms of Service, so if it gets reported, the PAC team will ask you to remove it. You don't say here where you posted yours, but I just wanted to give everyone a heads up on that count.

I'm really sorry that your experience with writing for requests went kind of sour on you. That's never a fun time. I can see how it would sour you on the practice, especially in conjunction with the fandom being new and the characters still not very fleshed out.

When it comes to disappointing people, you kind of have to pick your battles. Human beings these days encounter thousands of people in any given week, thanks to the internet, and we can't hold ourselves to the same standards of caring for a person we've interacted with one via a screen and the people we've built up relationships with.

That isn't to say it's alright to be a dick to people. Wil Wheaton has been very clear about that. It's just that carrying guilt over something you haven't done for a stranger is very different from carrying guilt over something you haven't done for your partner or your best friend.

In my experience, the best way to move forward is just to reply to the message that gave you the request and say, "I'm sorry, I don't think I can work on this right now. Please feel free to share it with another author." You can add in that you hope they find someone. You can change the "right now" to "after all". You can make the message as long or as short as you want, but just include those 2 ideas:

I'm not going to fulfill this request

if you're still wanting to read this thing, ask someone else to write it (or write it yourself)

The guilt is because you know that someone wanted a story and they haven't received it. What you don't know is whether they still want that story, whether they specifically want it from you and only you, and to what degree they were invested in the idea versus just throwing something out there on a whim.

If you do still want to write the stories, remember that fandom is a hobby not a job. Fic requests aren't assignments. You don't have any due dates. Inspiration comes and goes as it pleases, and sometimes we bite off more than we can chew.

Be kind to yourself, anon. Write the stories that interest you. Give away the ones that don't. Allow yourself the time you need to finish what you want to do. 💗

#asks and answers

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holylulusworld · 2 days

Text

Their girl

Summary: Your boss doesn’t even know your name. This doesn’t keep his guests from finding interest in you.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Shy!Reader x Mobster!Steve Rogers

Warnings: shy reader, tension, awkwardness, fluff, polyamory, love-struck mobsters

A/N: The sequel no one expected to get.

Catch up here: The nameless girl

True to their words, Steve and Bucky stood in front of your apartment the next evening.

They prepared everything for your date while you spent the better part of the day looking for a new job.

This couldn’t be real. And you believed they wanted to make fun of you by inviting you for dinner like one of the beautiful girls from the club.

“Hello doll,” Bucky lazily leaned in your door frame. He offered a bouquet of daisies to you and called you a pretty mouse.

“Sweet mouse,” Steve grinned and offered a single red rose to you, “you look…stunning.” They both looked dashing in their expensive suits, and polished shoes.

“I-sorry. I’m not ready yet and…” you nervously babbled. Still, in your oversized Peanuts shirt and sweatpants, you looked ridiculous next to them. “I didn’t think you’d show.”

“Why?” Bucky furrowed his brows. He looked a little hurt at your words. “Why’d you think we would not keep our word and come here to court you.”

“I,” you dropped your gaze, afraid you angered the two of them. “Men like you don’t usually pay attention to someone like me. I’m shy, meek, and a grey mouse in contrast to the dancers at the club.”

“Doll,” Bucky pushed the flowers in Steve’s hands so he could cup your face with both hands. “If we say we want to take you out,” he leaned closer to look you deep in the eyes. “We mean what we say. We want to take you out. Not one of the girls at the club nor anyone else.”

You sniffled and murmured an apology. It was strange to you that two men tried to get your attention. Life taught you that most men only like a pretty façade.

Many guys you met didn’t care if a girl was selfish, dumb, or had the worst character as long as they were pretty enough to get their attention.

“Y/N don’t apologize. I know we can be a bit overwhelming and intense,” Steve smirked when your eyes darted toward him. “Buck, tell her how much we like her.”

“Very much,” Bucky purred your name. He swiped his thumb over your lower lip only to groan deeply when you licked over his thumb and lightly sucked on it. “Fuck, Stevie. We got a dirty little mouse here.”

“Oh?” Steve watched you look at his friend like you were in a trance. “She’s such a cute surprise. Who would've thought we’d find our queen among all those boring girls.”

Bucky pecked your temple, making you sigh at the slightest touch of his lips. “We got lucky,” he said. “She’s one in a million.”

Steve chuckled at his friend’s eagerness. “How about we invite you for dinner at our home, Y/N. You can wear your cute shirt and sweatpants. We can have a sleepover and have dinner at the restaurant tomorrow.”

“We also got a job offer for you, doll,” Bucky whispered against your temple. “We got a free position in our organization.”

“Buck, that was a surprise!” Steve tutted but smirked when your eyes lit up. Losing your job at Clint’s club got you into trouble. Your landlord wants his money on time, not weeks or months later. “What do you say, doll? Do you want to come with us?”

“No.”

“No?” Bucky backpaddled at your answer. He looked you up and down, wondering if he misheard. “Did you say no?”

You took a deep breath and gathered all the courage you could muster and looked Bucky straight in the eyes.

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful, Mr. Barnes,” you confidentially said, even though, your voice trembled, “but you are still strangers to me. I cannot go with you, to a place I don’t know. I’m shy, not crazy.”

“Aw, she’s even cuter than I thought,” Steve chuckled at your little outburst. “You’re right, Y/N. We will wait outside of your apartment for you to get ready like gentlemen. Please excuse our forwardness.”

“Steve and I will take you out for dinner and drive you back home. We can talk about the job offer on our way to the restaurant. Only if you want to, of course,” Bucky pouted and held out his hand. “Please don’t leave us hanging.”

“I’ll be right back,” you excused yourself and closed the door behind you, exhaling deeply. Your knees shook, but you were also proud of yourself for standing up against Steve and Bucky.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other, smirking for a second before they chuckled.

“She’s so cute when mad,” Bucky laughed. “God, it makes me wild imagining her squirming underneath me while I take her apart. She will whimper my name and beg me to fill her up and breed her. But not before I ate her sweet cunt.”

Steve laughed. “You’re a horny dog.”

“Says the man running around with a boner since he laid eyes on our sweet mouse,” Bucky bit back. “I hope you know I’ll have her first. She will melt in my arms.”

“I hope you know Y/N is not like the other girls you easily wrapped around your fingers.”

“I know,” the brunette smirked. “That’s what I like about her, Steve. I knew the moment I laid eyes on her that things would be different with Y/N. It’s exciting, isn’t it?”

“Phew, you got it bad for her,” Steve whistled.

“You are no better,” Bucky snickered. “I know you want to make her ours. Do not deny it. You’re in too deep yourself.”

Both men waited patiently for you to join them outside of your apartment. They offered their arm to you, acting like gentlemen while guiding you toward their car.

The ride toward the restaurant was both, exciting and a little scary. You got into a car with two strangers promising to make you their queen.

Steve held the door to the restaurant open for you while Bucky guided you inside.

“You’ll love the restaurant,” Bucky said as he pulled the chair for you. “Did I already tell you that you look beautiful tonight, doll?”

“Thank you,” you stammered. You didn’t know if he meant what he said. Your sky-blue mini-dress was far from elegant. While all the other women at the restaurant looked like they came straight out of a fashion magazine, you felt underdressed. “It’s new…”

“I like that color on you,” Steve cupped your chin with one hand to tilt your head. “It’s cute and sweet.” You gasped feeling his lips press against the corner of your mouth. “Just like you.”

Bucky’s features darkened when you leaned into his friend’s touch.

“Shall we eat, doll?” He pulled a chair for you, making your heart flutter. “Steve was right, Y/N. You look beautiful in your dress. Did you buy it only for us?”

You giggled and dropped your gaze. “No,” you lied. “I bought it some weeks ago.”

“Aw, our doll believes she can lie to us, Buck,” Steve flashed you a stunning smile. “We know that you wanted to look pretty for us, Y/N. It’s not a bad thing you want to impress us. We did the same. Bucky spent two hours in his closet to find the perfect suit only to drive to town and buy a new one.”

“Steve did the same,” Bucky grabbed a chair and moved it closer to your seat. “He just likes to make everyone believe he looks good in everything without effort, including a potato sack.”

Steve grinned and ran one hand down his chest. “I’d rock that potato sack, Barnes. You know that.”

“I bet you would,” you murmured while eyeing Steve. He looked damn good in his suit and knew it. Men like him and Bucky always know how handsome they are. “You’re both very handsome.”

“Baby, you don’t have to stroke Steve’s ego,” Bucky moved his hand to your thigh to tickle your skin. “It’s already over the top. How about you stroke mine.”

“I think yours is over the top too,” you replied and gave him a tiny smirk before clearing your throat. “So…can we talk about the job now? You got me fired last night.”

“Straight to the point. I like it,” Steve grabbed the remaining chair and moved closer to yours too. He sat down only to place his hand on your other thigh. “We need someone to take care of our paperwork for our more legal business.”

“We need someone we can trust. Steve and I are rather bored when doing office work. You on the other hand have a lot of experience,” Bucky toyed with the hem of your dress while telling you more about the position you always dreamed of.

“How do you know about my work experience?”

“Baby doll, we are enchanted by you. This doesn’t mean we let a wolf in sheep’s clothing inside the inner circle of our business.” Steve pressed a soft kiss to your neck, making you sigh. “If you want the job, it’s yours.”

Bucky mirrored his partner. He pressed a soft kiss to your neck, lips nipping at the soft skin. “Oh, and the best is. You can bang your bosses…”

Tags in reblog.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #mafia au #mobster!steve rogers #mobster!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes

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blueskittlesart · 10 hours

Note

how do you come up with ideas for your comics? :?

yeah ok so the trick is to be crazy

#this is a joke but it's also kind of my real answer. the ideas come from the fact that i never stop thinking about the games and characters #like most of my comics r just straight character analysis written into prose or poetry or whatever you want to call it #but like genuinely i spend a lot of my free time just. thinking about these guys. putting them in scenarios.#picking apart how i think their brains work. how they think what they feel etc etc #and when one of those little scenarios or analyses becomes interesting enough to me it becomes a comic #this is probably not a helpful answer i know but. the trick is to be crazy <3 #asks

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godjustkys · 3 days

Text

| mndi 18+

| What a perv.

please give requests.

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Pairing: Top!dom!AMAB!reader x bottom!sub!Dean Winchester.

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Genre: smut.

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Word count: 2,357

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Warning(s): slight feminisation, use of pet names, reader being a cocky asshole (just a lil bit), unprotected sex, reader has clothes on/character does not, bratty Dean >:)

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Request: "can i req perv dean winchester x top male reader? possibly where dean’s jerking off to something that correlates to the reader (like a picture/boxers/whatever works really), but ends up getting caught? he’d usually use his glib tongue to get away, but poor princess is so embarrassed he’s caught jerking off to a guy."

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A/n: i think about dean a lot, putting my headcanons to use here. i need him so badly,,

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You had just gotten back from a grocery trip, putting the bags on the kitchen table. “Fuckin' hell, it's quiet.” You murmured to yourself, your hands on your hips.

Sam was out. Somewhere. Said he had business to attend to. He took Cas with him, so the only one that should be home right now was Dean. At first you thought you'd come home to Dean sitting in the kitchen and drinking, or simply watching the TV.

Neither of those were the case. You slowly walked to Dean's room, thinking to yourself. Just as you reached the door to his bedroom, you opened it immediately, figuring it'd be pointless to knock at this point.

“Dean, will y- woah—” you were in the doorway, standing still, your hand on the door handle.

Dean scrambled to sit up, getting a blanket to cover himself up. “What the hell! Knock, you moron!” He yelled at you, his facial expression clearly offended. Dean swallowed hard, eyebrows furrowed.

“Jesus Christ, okay, sorry-” you thought it was funny, how you caught him jerking off. You had a grin on your face, taking in the surroundings for a little while as you took a small step back, planning to close the door and leave Dean alone. Your smile dropped in a matter of seconds when you noticed your shirt — your dirty, bloody shirt that was supposed to be in the laundry,, in the grasp of Dean's hand.

“S'that..” you inquired slowly, squinting your eyes. “Is that my shirt?” You tilted your head to the side, your shoulders slumping. Why would Dean have your shirt in the first place?

“wh—” he looked down at his hand, practically baffled. Once Dean realized you had seen the piece of clothing, his grip tightened. “What? N— no, no that's mine.” He tried hiding it behind his back slowly.

“Dean, that's my shirt.” You pointed out, your facial expression going blank. “Were you-” you paused mid sentence, trying to take in the new information. “Were you jerking off to me?” Your tone had gotten a tad bit more serious.

“Huh?” He turned his head to look at you, wondering if he heard your question right. “No! No way! What in the world are you talking about?” His tone was defensive as he sat up more straight.

“Wait, scratch that. You were jerking off to a guy?” The look on your face was priceless, absolutely stunned. You knew you caught him, he was in a pinch. He wouldn't get out of this easily. “Since when are you so accepting of your attraction to men?”

“Hold on, does that mean you find me attractive? Am I attractive to you, Dean?” You fixed up your shirt, trying your best to look presentable. “Am I hot enough to get you off? Hm?” That same grin crept back on your face. Being friends with Dean was one thing, annoying and teasing the absolute shit out of him was another. You loved every minute of it.

Dean's gaze shifted to the floor, the feeling of heat cursing through him. Was he getting embarrassed? No, he had to come up with something to derail this conversation.

“You're being fucking ridiculous, [Name], get the hell out.” Dean made eye contact with you, trying to keep his poker face up.

“Awh, is my poor princess embarrassed to be caught jerking off to a guy?” You cooed, walking into the room and closing the door behind you. “You know damn well that it is my shirt.” You spoke, making your way towards Dean. Before the other could respond, you reached around and snatched the shirt.

You held it up, taking a proper look. “Yep,” You nodded with an affirming tone. “It is, in fact, my shirt.” Dean looked away from you, eyebrows furrowed as he huffed, clearly annoyed or even embarrassed. “Fuck off, out of my room, now.” He commanded, his voice ever-so slightly shaky.

“Ay, what the hell? I caught you jerking off to me, and now you're trynna kick me out?” You tilted your head to the side, throwing the shirt onto the ground. “Come on, I gotta know if you're in love with me or not,” you pushed further, your tone firm.

Dean scoffed as he laid back down with a small thud, the blanket still covering his lower half. He brought his arm up to his face, covering his eyes. “No. M'not. Get out,” Even though Dean denied it, his tone didn't seem that confident or convincing.

“You want me to get out and leave my shirt so you can continue jerking off to me? Orrr,, perhaps, there's a chance you want me to stay and get the real deal?” You didn't give it up, how could you? Dean Winchester, an absolute ladies man, trying to get off to his friend, a guy.

“What are you talking about??” He asked in an almost offended tone, taking his arm off of his face to look at you.

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

Deep breaths and groans filled the silent room, your hands gripping his firm thighs as you slowly pushed your cock in. Both of Dean's legs were over your shoulders. “Shit.. t'feels weird,” He breathed out, his left hand resting atop of yours, right hand freely on the bed itself.

“Yeah, well, now you know how a woman feels when you fuck her ass.” You said in a taunting tone, not taking your eyes away from your lower half. The sight of your cock slowly disappearing in his entrance - god.

Dean muttered something out that was followed by a grunt, his hand gripping the sheets underneath the two of you a little. “Jesus Chr— ist..” His voice faltered mid-word, eyelids fluttering shut. “Relax, Dean, relax. You're doin' good,” You encouraged him in a gentle manner, rubbing circles on his thighs with your thumbs to soothe him - calm him down.

“I am- relaxed.” He grumbled out, letting out a small wince. “Wouldn't say it feels like that,” You leaned down a bit, pushing on Dean's legs. Soon enough, you fully bottomed out. “Need a moment?” You asked, eyes flickering all over Dean's torso. “You take me for a wimp?” He said breathily, opening his eyes to make eye contact with you.

Once you looked into Dean's eyes, you got so lost. He looked breathtaking like this, the look in his eyes - full of lust, neediness and want, the glossiness of them. His slightly furrowed eyebrows, clenched jaw, his hand on yours,, the hand gripping the sheets.. so perfect. All of him was perfect. “Fuckin' hell..” You muttered out, moving your left hand to Dean's cock, very slowly jerking him off.

“Mff-..mm.” Soft noises escaped his mouth, followed by a sigh of content. Your touch stimulated him to no end. “You never got to cum, right? I interrupted you,” You spoke in a delighted tone, a smirk plastered on your face. “Why don't we finish off what you started, huh?” Your hand's pace had quickened with your sentence as Dean tilted his head back, his blinking getting more frequent and excessive.

“Fuckkkk..” He said, his voice quiet and low. His breath hitched in his throat for a short moment as you started slowly thrusting in and out. Agonizingly slowly. “Did you grab my shirt from the laundry?” You questioned suddenly, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes. “Cause it was dirty, you know, I'm curious.” You added, a grin flashing across your face.

“Mmh— nhgggh!—” Dean breathed out simple whines and whimpers. You were not sure if he even heard you, your thrusting getting more rhythmic and deeper. It was all new to the other - he'd usually do the fucking. “Hey Dean-oooo, I asked you a question baby,” You cooed, thumb rubbing over the slit of his dick, putting pressure on it. “Son of a bitch— shit!” He pressed his head back into the pillow, hand gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white. Dean had a hard time not squeezing your hand as well.

You moved your hand, intertwining your fingers together as you pushed his arm, making his forearm rest beside his head, pressing his hand into the mattress a bit as you propped yourself up. “Breathe Dean, jeez,” You said with a small breathless scoff, your other hand pumping his cock continuously. “Sh— shut up,, I hate y..you, hhgg!-” Dean managed to speak, his sentence truly holding no malice or hostility behind his tone of voice, moving his head to the side and letting out a hiss at the feeling of your cock inside him. “Do you?” The grin never left your face. “Not only did I catch you jerking off to me, or my clothes rather, but you're letting me fuck you as well. That speaks volumes to me baby,” You shifted on your knees, finding a completely new angle. You pushed in, reaching deep. With that, Dean choked out a gasp, his eyes shooting open as he arched his back off of the bed slightly.

Almost immediately Dean let go of the sheets, bringing his hand to his mouth, covering it. He let out a couple muffled moans, really starting to sweat. Your thrusting pace quickened. It was harsh and deep. “You feelin' shy? We're alone, no one's gonna hear you, Dean.” You mumbled, looking down at your hand jerking him off. His cock twitched, leaking precum. You let out a groan at the feeling of Dean clenching around you.

At this point Dean was seeing stars behind his eyes, the feeling was entirely new to him yet it felt so good. Too good, maybe. He whimpered against his hand, his thighs tensing as they shuddered. You clicked your tongue in annoyance, not exactly directed towards him. You removed your hand from his cock and grasped his wrist, removing his own hand from his mouth so he wouldn't muffle his moans anymore. You pinned it next to his head on the mattress, almost the same as his other hand.

Of course Dean tried resisting being pinned, but you did all of that while fucking him mercilessly and relentlessly. “oh- ah! fucckk—” He bit down on his bottom lip to try and suppress his moaning. You suddenly hit his prostate with a harsh thrust, earning a loud whine from Dean, his one hand clenching into a fist, the other squeezing yours. “Nnh! Shit! Yes yes yes, just like that-” he rambled out, his chest rising and falling with each breath that he took, his lips parted.

His legs started trembling over your shoulders, toes curling. You let a soft groan leave your lips, leaning your body down again, Dean's knees inches away from his chest. He seemed more flexible than you thought. “Yeah? Feels good, doesn't it?” You said in a confident tone, letting out a soft sigh of content, your thrusts ever so slightly losing rhythm.

“Ghhh— pleaseee, pleasepleaseplease,” He whined, his muscles tensed visibly as his body spasmed, shaking his head. You abused his prostate, most likely bruised it as well. Dean squirmed underneath you, his arms aching - couldn't put his hands where he wanted with you pinning him to the bed. His cock throbbed as it was lightly pressed between the both of your abdomens. “w- I'm close! shit! i'm so close!-”

“Go on, cum for me, you've been so good,” You praised him in a softer voice, trying to keep up the same fast pace just to push Dean over the edge. His eyes shut tight, pushing his arms up in an attempt to free himself. As you noticed this, you let go of both of his hands and he almost instinctively wrapped them around your neck, pulling you in as close as possible. Without any further warning, Dean came, making a mess on his own stomach. He choked out a breath he didn't even know he was holding, panting afterwards, eyebrows only stitching together further.

“There we go, good boy,” You murmured, gasping softly as Dean's walls tightened around you. He was starting to get a bit overstimulated with the way you continued pounding into him after he came. One hand of Dean's gripped your shirt, the other holding onto the back of your neck. You felt your own climax nearing.

“Mmhhh,” You hummed out, placing open-mouthed kisses on Dean's neck as a way to distract yourself a little. You ended up only chasing your own orgasm, your cock twitching inside Dean's hole. He shuddered, fingers tangling in your hair, slightly pulling on the locks. “There- there, right there-” Dean moaned out, his voice hoarse and raspy, trying to ride down his own orgasm.

Your hips stuttered, slowly breaking the pace. You were close, almost ready to pull out. Dean felt slight emptiness near his prostate due to you not pushing back in and he whined. “N— no, no, inside, come inside.” Dean rasped out, holding you close to him. You raised an eyebrow at this, nonetheless complying with the other's request. “Fuck Dean, you're kinky,” you joked, pushing your cock all the way in.

His legs continued to shake, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “g-god,” Dean managed to speak through the string of moans and whimpers he let out. With one harsh final thrust and a groan, you came inside Dean, the warm liquid pooling inside him. He let out a shaky sigh, his grip on you loosening. You dropped your head down and leaned your forehead on Dean's shoulder, relaxing. “This fulfilled your expectations of me?” you asked, clearly out of breath. “Or do you wanna go again?” You whispered, your hands moving to remove Dean's legs from your shoulders, lowering them and making them wrap around your waist.

Dean paused as you lifted your head back up again, looking down at him. He made eye contact with you, his eyes ever so slightly teary. “You think you got enough stamina for another round?” He mocked you, his panting very audible, voice quieter than usual. “You're a little shit,” You chuckled, shifting your position to a sitting one. “You're getting what you asked for,” with a tight grip on his hips, you started moving again.

#male reader #request #top male reader #dom male reader #fanfic #fanfiction #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester supernatural #one shot #smut #dean winchester smut

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kckt88 · 2 days

Text

Byka rūklon.

Summary:

Prince Aemond has been enjoying a secret relationship with a maid in the Red Keep, but as the Dance of Dragons begins, Aemond makes a decision in order to protect the one he loves.

Warnings - Angst, Darma, Secret Relationship, Kissing, Spit Kink, Smut - Oral Sex, P in V, Mention of Betrothal, Mention of Death, Vulnerability.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x Y.N

Word Count: 7,000

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8

The Red Keep was shrouded in the quiet stillness of the night, its imposing walls casting long shadows under the pale moonlight. Y.N. moved swiftly and silently through the darkened corridors, her heart pounding in her chest.

She knew every secret passage, every hidden door that the servants used to navigate the vast castle unnoticed.

Reaching the concealed entrance, she glanced around to ensure she was alone before slipping inside. The narrow passage was cold and damp, its stone walls rough against her fingertips.

She moved with practiced ease, her steps light and deliberate as she approached the hidden door that led into Aemond's chambers.

She eased the door open, the faint creak masked by the sound of crackling fire from within the room.

Peeking inside, she saw Aemond pacing back and forth, his movements agitated, his face a mask of frustration and anger. He was muttering to himself, his words sharp and filled with venom.

"-To break bread with those I despise," he was saying, his voice low but intense. "How am I expected to sit and feign civility when my blood boils at the sight of them?"

Y.N. slipped into the room, closing the door behind her as quietly as she could. Aemond did not notice her presence immediately, too absorbed in his thoughts.

"And that wretched nephew of mine," Aemond continued, his tone growing harsher. "He dares to mock me, after all the pain he has already inflicted. Does he think me weak? Does he think I have forgotten?"

"Aemond," Y.N. said softly, stepping forward.

He stopped abruptly, his gaze snapping to her. For a moment, his expression softened, the anger giving way to relief at her presence. "Y.N.," he breathed, striding towards her. "I did not hear you come in."

She reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "I used the secret passageway.”

Aemond's hand covered hers, his grip firm but tender. "Your presence is a balm to my troubled mind," he said, his voice quieter now, the edge of his earlier rage fading.

Y.N. guided him to a nearby chair, urging him to sit. "Tell me what troubles you”.

He sat down heavily, running a hand through his silver hair. "It is my family," he began. "The feigned smiles and false courtesies. I am expected to dine with those who whisper lies and deceit. And my nephew—" His jaw clenched. "Lucerys. He mocks me, as if the wound he dealt me was not enough."

Y.N. knelt beside him, her eyes filled with empathy. "You carry so much weight on your shoulders, Aemond. Do not let the malice consume you."

Aemond looked down at her, his eye softening as he cupped her face in his hands. "You are my light in the darkness, Y.N. With you, I find the strength to endure."

She leaned into his touch, her heart swelling with love and determination. "And I will always be here for you”.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "Promise me you'll stay with me tonight”.

"Always," she whispered back, her voice filled with unwavering devotion.

"Let me have you tonight," he whispered, his voice a hushed plea, filled with longing and vulnerability. "Let me forget the world, if only for a few hours."

Y.N. looked up into his eyes, her own filled with a mixture of love and desire. She could see the depth of his need, the raw emotion that he kept hidden from the world. In this moment, he was not the formidable Prince, but simply Aemond, a man seeking solace in her arms.

"Yes," she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper but carrying all the affirmation he needed.

Aemond's gaze softened, a flicker of relief passing through his features as he gently cupped her face in his hands. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a tender, lingering kiss.

But then-

“Open”

Aemond smirked as Y.N obediently opened her mouth; he ran his thumb slowly over her plump lower lip before slipping it inside her mouth.

Without further prompting Y.N closed her mouth and began to suck, her tongue sliding along his thumb, Aemond watched as a small trickle of drool made its way down her chin.

He leaned forward and ran his tongue over her chin as Y.N continued to suck the thumb he had in her mouth.

“Such a good girl-”

He removed his thumb and grasped Y.Ns chin, holding her mouth open as he leaned forward and spat in her open mouth.

“Swallow”

Aemond growled as he watched Y.N obey and swallow, her eyes never leaving his.

“Issa byka rūklon-” muttered Aemond as he slid his hands over her shoulder’s and down over her chest to the laces of her dress. (My little flower).

“-Aemond” whispered Y.N as he loosened her dress and it slid from her body, the material pooling at her feet.

“So beautiful-“ mumbled Aemond as he directed her to lay down on the bed.

Y.N shivered against the cool sheets of the bed, as she watched Aemond remove his leather jerkin, his long fingers quickly undoing the clasps. He pulled his arms free and threw the dark material onto one of the arms chairs.

Y.N began squirming as Aemond knelt down beside the bed, reaching to remove her small clothes, he bunched them up his hand before he pressed the cotton material to his face, inhaling the scent of Y.N’s arousal, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

After discarding her smallclothes, Aemond slid his hands up Y.N’s legs and held open her thighs as he moved forward and teasingly pressed his nose against her slick folds.

“A-Aemond”

“Hm, so wet for me issa jorrāelagon” rasped Aemond (My love).

“Please my Prince. I’ve been good” moaned Y.N as Aemond’s mouth descending on her cunny.

Ravenously, he pressed into Y.N’s core with his tongue. Y.N clutched the bedspread, her fingers digging into the fabric.

Aemond withdrew from her soaking wet core and lashed hard at her clitoris with his tongue, pulling on it with his lips. He was hard, fast and brutal, alternating between her assaulted bundle of nerves and drinking deep from her cunt.

Y.N ground down on Aemond, hard; his tongue speared deeper inside her, and she felt the warm curl of her peak approach.

“That’s it come for me-issa gevie hāedar” urged Aemond, his fingers reaching forward to caress her pearl (My beautiful girl).

“AEMOND” screamed Y.N arching off the bed as she peaked.

“Hmm” muttered Aemond as he pressed a series of kisses to Y.N’s inner thighs.

“P-Please A-Aemond. Need you” begged Y.N.

Aemond rose from the floor, his chin shining with her slick, he smirked as he swiped the back of his hand over chin and then ran his tongue over his hand, savouring the delicious taste of Y.N.

Aemond reached forward and manoeuvred Y.N onto all fours.

Y.N was a delectable sight indeed, her arse in the air, her wet cunt on display, gods he needed to be inside her.

Aemond squeezed the meat of her arse before he slapped her, delighting in Y.N’s squeal of surprise.

“Now baby, I’m going to fuck you until you scream” said Aemond, delighting in the way Y/N began nodding and whimpering.

Aemond quickly yanked off his cotton shirt and unfastened his breeches.

His cock slapped up against his abdomen, the head glistening with pre-cum.

“FUCK” groaned Aemond as he took his cock in hand and began rubbing it along Y.N’s wet folds.

“Please, my Prince. I want it-I want you, please don’t make me wait anymore” begged Y.N.

“Fuck, that’s it” moaned Aemond his hard length filling her cunny in one smooth stroke.

“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Y.N.

He began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts.

“Your cunt is dripping, it's so beautiful” sighed Aemond.

Slowly thrusting back and forth. Over and over, withdrawing further each time, until his cock entirely withdrew from her warm wet entrance.

He marvelled at her body. Such a beautiful, succulent thing his byka rūklon was. Allowing him entry into the most sacred parts of her body (Little flower).

Aemond began to fuck her in earnest, plunging his cock into her cunny over and over, thrilling to hear Y.N’s moans of need echoing around his chambers.

Bracing her arms, she pushed against him so he could shove his cock in. Harder and faster.

Aemond felt his balls draw in; his peak was approaching.

But he didn’t want to finish like this, he wanted to see her face as she came around his cock.

Aemond withdrew, ignoring Y.N whimper of protest as he rolled her onto her back and slipped inside her again.

Y.N wrapped her legs around Aemond’s waist, drawing him closer as he began to thrust inside her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

“A-Aemond, I’m close-please” begged Y.N.

He snaked a hand down Y.N’s body and played with her clitoris, stroking it with his fingers.

“Oh gods” moaned Y.N as her whole-body began to shake.

“Come for me, Byka rūklon” breathed Aemond, his thrusts starting to jerk (Little flower),

He was close. So close. Just a little more-

Y.N screamed as her desperately needed peak exploded from her body, making every limb tremble as her body bucked around Aemond’s cock.

“ñuhon-“ groaned Aemond as he spilled rope after rope of his seed, he had no recollection of what he did or said for the good minute it took for his peak to crest, then subside (Mine).

For a moment he held himself over Y.N’s body, careful not to collapse on top of her as his cock softened inside her.

After a few minutes Aemond gently pulled out and rolled onto the mattress beside Y.N, he reached forward and enveloped her into a tight hug.

“I-I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Not at all” replied Y.N smiling.

The next morning, Y.N. woke early, the warmth of Aemond's embrace lingering in her memory as she prepared for another day of service in the Red Keep.

The castle was unusually quiet, an oppressive stillness hanging in the air. As she went about her duties, she noticed a sense of unease among the other servants, whispers of something amiss passing between them.

Shortly after, Y.N. and the other maids were rounded up by stern-faced guards and led to a large, dimly lit room deep within the castle.

The heavy wooden door was shut behind them with a resounding thud, the key turning in the lock, sealing them inside. The maids exchanged worried glances, their fear and uncertainty palpable.

Hours passed in anxious silence. Y.N. paced the room, her mind racing with possibilities. What could have caused such a drastic measure? She thought of Aemond, wondering if he knew what was happening.

Finally, the door creaked open, and Otto Hightower the hand of the King walked in, his expression grave. The maids gathered around, holding their breath as they awaited the news.

"King Viserys is dead," Otto announced, his voice heavy with the weight of the revelation. Gasps and murmurs of shock rippled through the room. Y.N. felt her heart clench, the gravity of the situation settling over her like a dark cloud.

"In his last moments," Otto continued, "-The King expressed a wish for his oldest son, Prince Aegon, to succeed him on the Iron Throne. Not his named heir, Princess Rhaenyra."

The room erupted in whispers, the maids exchanging incredulous looks. This news contradicted everything they had known, everything the kingdom had been prepared for. Y.N.'s mind reeled, trying to process the implications. She thought of Aemond and how this upheaval might affect him and his family.

"Silence!" barked Otto, his voice cutting through the commotion. The maids fell silent, fear etched on their faces.

"You are commanded not to breathe a word of this to anyone. You will carry on with your duties as usual. Should any of you be caught spreading rumours or speaking out of turn, you will be severely dealt with. Do you understand?"

The maids nodded quickly, their fear of punishment overriding their curiosity and shock. Y.N. felt a cold dread settle in her stomach.

"You are dismissed," said Otto, stepping aside to let them pass. The maids filed out, their steps hurried and silent as they dispersed to their respective tasks.

Y.N. was polishing a suit of armour in one of the quieter hallways when she heard the soft shuffle of footsteps approaching.

She looked up to see an older maid, Elara, whose kind eyes were now shadowed with worry.

"Y.N.," Elara said in a low voice, glancing around to ensure they were alone. "Prince Aemond has summoned you to his chambers. You are to go immediately and attend to any duties the Prince requires."

Y.N. nodded, masking the flutter of anxiety and excitement in her chest. "Thank you, Elara. I'll go at once."

As she made her way to Aemond's chambers, Y.N. took care to maintain the appearance of a dutiful maid, her steps measured and her expression neutral.

The news of King Viserys' death and the sudden shift in succession had everyone on edge, and she knew the importance of discretion now more than ever.

Arriving at the door to Aemond's chambers, she paused to smooth her apron and take a calming breath. She knocked softly, and his familiar voice called her in. Stepping inside, she closed the door behind her, her eyes meeting Aemond's intense gaze.

He stood by the window, his posture rigid, the weight of the recent news evident in the lines of his face. Despite the turmoil, his expression softened slightly as he looked at her, a brief flicker of relief in his eye.

"You called for me, my Prince?" Y.N. said, keeping her tone respectful and formal.

"Yes," Aemond replied, his voice steady but tinged with underlying tension. "-There are matters we must discuss."

Y.N nodded as she approached him, her heart aching to offer comfort, but she maintained her composed demeanour. "How may I assist you, my Prince?"

“I take it you are aware of the Kings passing?” asked Aemond.

“Y-Yes my Prince-“ replied Y.N.

“My brother Aegon has been crowned. The council moved quickly to secure his position, claiming it was our father's final wish."

“What about the Princess Rhaenyra?"

Aemond's jaw tightened. "My mother, Alicent, believes we can find a peaceful resolution to these matters. She hopes to avoid bloodshed, to honour my father's memory by keeping the realm united."

"And you?" Y.N. asked softly, sensing the turmoil within him.

Aemond's eye darkened, the firelight reflecting the intensity of his gaze. "I know there will be no peace. Rhaenyra will not so easily relinquish her claim to the throne, nor will Daemon. A war is likely to be fought over the Iron Throne and the question of who is the rightful ruler."

Y.N. stepped closer, her hand reaching out to touch his arm. "What will you do?"

"Y.N., there is something I must tell you. My grandfather, has said that in order to secure Aegon's claim to the Iron Throne, we need to forge strong alliances. And the only way to do that is through marriage."

Y.N. felt a cold knot of fear tighten in her stomach, "What do you mean?"

Aemond took her hands in his, his grip firm yet gentle. "I have been ordered to go to Storm's End. There, I am to choose one of Borros Baratheon's daughters to wed in exchange for the Lord's support."

Tears welled in Y.N.'s eyes, the reality of his words crashing down upon her like a tidal wave. "No," she whispered, shaking her head as tears began to spill down her cheeks. "Aemond-"

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if to shield her from the pain. "I do not wish for this, Y.N. You know that my heart belongs to you, and only you."

"But you have to do it," she said, her voice breaking. "For your family, for the throne-"

Aemond's hand stroked her hair, his touch a tender balm against the anguish they both felt. "Yes. It is my duty. But that does not make it any easier. I cannot bear the thought of losing you."

Y.N. clung to him. "What will we do? How can we be together if you marry another?"

He took a deep breath, "When I marry, what we have must come to an end."

Y.N. felt her heart shatter, the tears she had been holding back spilling down her cheeks. "Aemond," she whispered, her voice breaking.

He reached out, cupping her face in his hands, his touch tender yet firm. "I do not wish to marry one of Borros Baratheon's daughters, but I cannot dishonour my wife. It would be unfair to her-“

Y.N. nodded, understanding his sense of duty even as it tore her apart. "I understand," she said, her voice barely audible.

Aemond's thumbs brushed away her tears, his gaze filled with a deep, aching sadness.

"Y.N.," Aemond whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "I need-one night. One night where we can be together, without the burdens of duty and the shadow of the future hanging over us. Just you and me, as we are."

Tears welled in Y.N.'s eyes again, but this time they were tears of bittersweet joy. She nodded, her voice trembling as she replied, "Yes, Aemond”

He kissed her then, with a fervour and desperation that spoke of their shared need to hold onto each other, to savour every precious moment before the inevitable separation. As their lips parted, he led her to the bed.

Y.N. tried to throw herself into her duties, to lose herself in the mundane tasks that filled her days in the Red Keep. She scrubbed floors and dusted shelves, her movements automatic as she tried to push the thoughts of Aemond from her mind.

But no matter how hard she worked, his face lingered in her thoughts, his touch still imprinted on her skin.

Earlier that day, she had watched from the window as Aemond had taken to the sky on his dragon, Vhagar. The sight had torn at her heart, knowing that with each beat of the dragon's wings, he was moving further away from her, closer to the woman who would become his wife.

The thought of him choosing another, of him marrying someone who wasn't her, was like a dagger to her heart. She tried to push the pain away, to bury it deep beneath the surface, but it clawed at her relentlessly, refusing to be ignored.

As she worked, her hands shook with suppressed emotion, her vision blurred by unshed tears. She felt a lump form in her throat, choking off her breath as she struggled to hold back the flood of grief threatening to overwhelm her.

In moments of respite, she stole away to the quiet corners of the castle, seeking solace in the memories of their time together. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to relive each stolen kiss, each whispered vow of love, clinging to them like lifelines in the midst of a storm.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the image of Aemond's face as he had pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his expression torn between duty and desire.

She knew that he was sacrificing his own happiness for the sake of his family and the realm, but it offered little comfort in the face of her own heartache.

In the back of her mind she knew getting involved with the Prince was only going to end one way, they couldn’t be together openly nor could they marry, he was a Prince and she was nothing but a lowly maid with no title or coin to her name.

As the day wore on and the sun dipped below the horizon, Y.N. found herself alone in the quiet of the evening. The castle seemed to echo with the emptiness of her own heart, a hollow reminder of the absence of the man she loved.

With a heavy sigh, she sank to her knees, the weight of her grief pressing down on her like a leaden cloak. She bowed her head, her tears falling freely now as she allowed herself to mourn the loss of what could never be.

In the darkness of the night, she whispered his name, a prayer and a plea for his safety and his happiness, even as she knew that her own heart would never be whole again.

"Y.N.," Elara whispered urgently, her hand gripping Y.N.'s shoulder. "Wake up, child. Prince Aemond has returned from his travels. He demands your presence in his chambers immediately."

Y.N.'s heart lurched in her chest, a cold knot of fear forming in the pit of her stomach.

Nodding silently, Y.N. threw off the covers and rose from her bed, her limbs heavy with apprehension. She dressed quickly, her fingers trembling as she fumbled with the laces of her gown.

As she made her way through the deserted corridors of the Red Keep, her footsteps echoing in the stillness of the night.

When she reached Aemond's chambers, she hesitated for a moment outside the door, her hand hovering over the latch. With a steadying breath, she pushed it open and stepped inside.

The room was dimly lit by flickering candles, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Aemond stood by the window, his back to her, his silhouette outlined against the moonlit sky. His shoulders were tense, his posture rigid, and Y.N. felt a pang of apprehension at the sight of him.

"Aemond," she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

He turned to her; his expression unreadable in the half-light. "Y.N.," he replied, his voice low and strained.

"What has happened?" she asked, her heart pounding in her chest.

Aemond's gaze held hers for a long moment, his eye dark with sorrow and regret as he shook his head.

As Y.N. stepped further into the room, her eyes widened in alarm as she took in Aemond's appearance. He stood before her, drenched from head to toe, water droplets glistening in his hair and trickling down his face. His clothes clung to his body, soaked through.

"Aemond," she gasped, rushing to his side. "You're soaking wet, you should get out of these wet clothes before you catch a chill."

He remained silent; his gaze distant as he stood motionless before her. Without waiting for a response, Y.N. stepped forward, her fingers trembling slightly as she helped him to undress.

As she peeled the damp fabric away from his skin, she couldn't help but notice the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch, the coolness of his skin beneath her fingertips.

She pressed the towel against his pale skin, drying him off with gentle, careful strokes, the silence of the room broken only by the soft rustle of fabric and the occasional sound of his uneven breath.

As she finished drying him off, she stepped back, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of concern and compassion. "Aemond," she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. “What happened?”

Y.N. watched as Aemond sat down on the edge of his bed, his shoulders hunched and his expression haunted.

She hesitated for a moment before he patted the spot next to him, silently inviting her to join him. With a gentle nod, she obliged, taking a seat beside him.

As she settled onto the bed, she felt a tremor run through Aemond's frame, his breathing shallow and uneven.

Without a word, he shifted closer to her, curling up and resting his head in her lap. Y.N. froze for a moment, startled by the sudden intimacy of the gesture, before tentatively reaching out to stroke his silver hair.

In that moment, Aemond seemed so vulnerable, his usually stoic demeanour giving way to a raw, unguarded emotion.

He looked up at her with an eye that mirrored the pain and turmoil swirling within him, and for the first time, Y.N. saw him not as a Prince, but as a lost and wounded soul, desperately seeking solace in the arms of another.

With a soft sigh, she continued to stroke his hair, her touch gentle and soothing. She felt the tension begin to seep out of his body, his breathing gradually slowing as he surrendered to the comfort of her embrace.

"He's dead."

Y.N.'s heart skipped a beat at his words, her breath catching in her throat. "Who?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Aemond met her gaze, his eyes filled with a pain that cut straight to her soul. "Lucerys," he replied, his voice heavy with grief and guilt.

Y.N. felt the blood drain from her face at the mention of Lucerys Velaryon's name. "But-how?" she stammered, unable to comprehend the magnitude of what Aemond was saying.

Aemond took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he recounted the events that had led to Lucerys' death. "I wasn't the only envoy to arrive at Storm's End," he began, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Rhaenyra is also trying to rally support for her claim to the throne."

He paused, his gaze dropping to the floor as if unable to meet her eyes. "Borros Baratheon refused Lucerys," he continued, his voice tight with anger and regret. "But I-I wanted him to pay for what he did to me all those years ago."

Y.N. listened in stunned silence as Aemond spoke, her heart breaking with each word. She had known of what had happened between Aemond and Lucerys on Driftmark, but she had never imagined it would come to this.

"I took to the sky on Vhagar," Aemond went on, his voice trembling with emotion. "I chased Lucerys in the skies above Storm's End, wanting only to scare him, to make him feel as weak as he had made me feel all those years ago."

"But then-then his dragon, Arrax, attacked Vhagar," he said, his voice catching in his throat. "She wouldn't listen to my commands, and I tried to stop her, but she-she killed Lucerys."

Y.N. felt a wave of horror wash over her at Aemond's words, the enormity of what he had done crashing down on her like a tidal wave. She reached out to him, her hand trembling as she touched his arm.

"Aemond," she whispered, her voice choked with tears.

He looked at her then, his eyes filled with anguish and self-loathing. "I never meant for this to happen, Y.N.," he said, his voice breaking with emotion. "I never wanted him to die-I just wanted to scare him”.

“I-It was an accident” whispered Y.N

Aemond's breathing grew rapid and shallow, panic flickering in his eye as he pulled back from Y.N.'s embrace. "No one can know it was an accident," he said, his voice urgent and strained. "No one"

Y.N. looked at him, her heart pounding with fear and confusion. "Aemond," she said, trying to keep her voice steady, "You would rather the realm think you a kinslayer?"

Aemond met her gaze, his expression fierce and unyielding. "Yes," he replied without hesitation. "As far as anyone else is concerned, I meant to kill Lucerys. I did it on purpose."

Y.N. stared at him, stunned into silence. She had known Aemond to be proud and determined, but she had never imagined he would willingly accept such a terrible label. "Aemond," she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief, "-You can't be serious."

"I am," he said, his tone resolute. "If word gets out that it was an accident, it will weaken our position. People will see me as weak, as someone who lost control. They will question our strength and our resolve."

"But Aemond," Y.N. protested, her eyes wide with shock, "-You're condemning yourself to a life of infamy. A kinslayer is cursed in the eyes of the gods and men alike."

"I know," he replied, his voice filled with a grim determination. "But it is a burden I must bear. For the sake of my family, for the sake of our cause, I will wear that label if I must."

"Y.N., you need to leave the Red Keep."

She pulled back slightly, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What are you talking about, Aemond? I'm not leaving you."

His eyes bore into hers, a fierce intensity in his gaze. "War is coming. The realm will be torn apart, and I won't risk your life. You must go somewhere safe, far away from here."

Y.N. shook her head vehemently, tears welling in her eyes. "No, Aemond. I refuse to leave you. I won't abandon you now, not when you need me the most."

He cupped her face in his hands, his expression pained but resolute. "Y.N., listen to me. I love you too much to see you harmed. Every moment you stay here, you're in danger. If something were to happen to you, I could never forgive myself."

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she clutched at his arms, desperation in her voice. "But Aemond, what about us? How can I live knowing that you're here, fighting alone, without me?"

Aemond's eyes softened, and he pressed his forehead against hers, his voice breaking. "It will break my heart to be apart from you, but it would bring me peace to know that you are safe. If you stay, I will be constantly worried for your safety. I need to know that you are far from harm, that you are somewhere where this war cannot touch you."

Y.N. sobbed quietly, the weight of his words sinking in. "I can't do it, Aemond. I can't leave you."

"You must," he insisted, his voice trembling. "For me, Y.N. Please. If you love me, you will do this. I cannot fight, I cannot lead, knowing that you might be caught in the crossfire. I need you to be safe, more than anything."

“-Aemond”

Aemond released Y.N. from their embrace and walked over to his desk, opening a drawer and pulling out a small, leather pouch. He turned back to her, his expression a mixture of determination and sorrow.

He handed her the pouch, pressing it firmly into her hands. "There is enough here to last you for a while," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his eyes. "At dawn, there is a ship sailing across the Narrow Sea bound for Pentos. That's where you will go."

Y.N. looked down at the pouch, the weight of the coins pressing against her palms like the weight of the world. "Pentos," she whispered, her voice trembling. "But, Aemond, I—"

He interrupted her gently but firmly. "You must go, Y.N. It is the only way I can be sure that you are safe. Pentos is far enough from the conflict that you will be out of harm's way."

She looked up at him, tears blurring her vision. "And what about you? How will I know if you're safe?"

Aemond's expression softened, and he reached out to cup her face in his hands. "I will come and find you when the war is over," he promised, his voice filled with a fierce determination.

Y.N. nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "-Aemond. I just-I don't want to leave you."

He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment as if trying to memorize the feel of her skin. "I don't want you to leave either," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "But this is the only way. I need to know that you are safe so I can focus on what needs to be done."

She clung to him, her heart breaking with the weight of their impending separation. "I'll go to Pentos," she whispered, her voice trembling. "But you have to promise me that you'll come for me."

Aemond pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes with a fierce intensity. "I promise, Byka rūklon. I will find you, no matter what. Just stay safe and wait for me." (Little flower).

Two years had passed, and Y.N. had settled into a quiet, unassuming life in a small town just outside of Pentos. The pouch of coins Aemond had given her had long since run out, forcing her to find work as a seamstress.

She spent her days sewing and mending, her fingers moving deftly through fabric as her mind wandered through memories of the past.

The days in the town were slow and uneventful, but news from Westeros still reached her, carried by travellers and merchants passing through.

She had heard of the young prince Jaehaerys' brutal murder at the hands of assassins, a tragedy that had left her reeling. Then came the news of Princess Rhaenys and her dragon Meleys falling at Rook's Rest, followed by word of Aegon's severe injuries and Aemond being crowned as Prince Regent, and later news of a battle in the Gullet and the death of Prince Jacaerys also reached her.

When King's Landing fell, she heard of the tragic deaths of Jaehaera, Maelor and Helaena, who had eventually taken her own life. The death of Rhaenyra at Aegon's hands and his later death after being poisoned.

But it was the news of Aemond's death that truly shattered her.

She had clung to the hope that one day, she would look into the sky and see Vhagar, with Aemond keeping his promise to her.

But when she heard that he had perished in a dragon battle with Daemon and his dragon Caraxes above the God's Eye, that hope died within her. Vhagar was gone, and so was Aemond, resting alongside his dragon in their watery grave.

Y.N. wiped the tears from her cheeks, her heartache momentarily interrupted by the soft voice calling out from the corner of the room. "Mama?"

She turned, her eyes focusing on the small cot in the corner. With a deep breath, she stood and walked over to the cot, her steps slow and heavy. As she approached, the sight before her filled her with a mixture of sorrow and love.

The silver-haired boy looked up at her with wide, curious eyes, the perfect image of his father. His hair, the same shade of silver as Aemond's, shimmered in the dim light of the room, and his violet eyes held a depth and intensity that reminded her so much of the man she had lost.

"Mama," the boy repeated, reaching out to her with tiny hands.

Y.N. knelt beside the cot, a soft smile forming on her lips despite the tears that still glistened in her eyes. "Yes, my love," she whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. "Mama is here."

Y.N looked at the silver-haired boy, his tiny fingers clutching hers, and wondered what Aemond would think if he knew that on their last night together, his seed had taken root, and she had borne him a son.

Y.N’s thoughts swirled with the bittersweet reality of their situation. She knew, deep in her heart, that Aemond would have still sent her away, even if he had known she was carrying his child.

Their love, while deep and true, existed within the constraints of a world governed by duty, honour, and rigid social structures.

Aemond was a Prince, bound by obligations and expectations that came with his birthright. She was nothing but a maid, a servant within the halls of the Red Keep.

Despite the intensity of their love, they lived in a world where such a union was not just frowned upon, but practically impossible.

"In this world, you may be considered a bastard," she whispered to the boy, her voice filled with quiet determination. "But you are also the son of a Prince. And I will make sure you know of your father, and the love that brought you into this world."

The sun was beginning its descent, casting a warm, golden light over the small garden where Y.N. was busy digging up vegetables. Aemion, sat on a blanket nearby, happily playing with his wooden toys.

Y.N wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead, smiling at Aemion's joyful play. Despite the hardships, these moments brought her a sense of peace and fulfilment.

Her hands worked deftly in the soil, but her mind wandered, as it often did, to memories of Aemond.

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over her, startling Y.N.

She quickly straightened up, her heart pounding in her chest. Instinctively, she reached for Aemion and hauled him into her arms before she withdrew the small knife hidden in her sleeve.

"Stay back. I’m no weakling woman-I will slit you from cock to throat if you dare lay hands upon me or my son-" she commanded, her voice steady despite the fear coursing through her veins.

The stranger remained silent for a moment, then spoke, his voice deep and familiar. "Byka rūklon-“

Y.N.'s heart skipped a beat. Her eyes widening in disbelief as the figure pulled down his hood.

"Aemond," she whispered, her voice breaking with a mixture of shock and overwhelming emotion.

He looked weary and travel-worn, his face bearing new marks of the brutal battles he had fought.

A deep scar ran from his left temple into his hairline, and burn scars marred his neck and under his chin. Yet his gaze was as intense and piercing as ever.

Aemond took a step forward, his eyes locked on hers. "Y.N.," he said softly, his voice filled with an emotion that mirrored her own.

The knife slipped from her fingers, forgotten, as she clutched Aemion tightly to her chest. She took a hesitant step forward, her eyes scanning Aemond's face as if trying to confirm that he was truly there. "How-how are you here? I thought-you died in the battle above the God's Eye."

Aemond nodded slowly, his expression grim. "I probably have" he admitted. "After the battle, I was dragged under the water. I thought it was the end. The last thing I thought of was you, Y.N. I would have died content knowing you were safe."

Tears welled up in Y.N.'s eyes as she listened, clutching Aemion closer. "But you're here," she whispered. "How did you survive?"

Aemond took a deep breath, reaching out to gently touch her cheek. "The gods had other ideas," he said softly. "When I was being pulled under, the strap on my riding chain broke. I managed to free myself and make it to the edge of the lake. I must have passed out because the next thing I remember is waking up in Harrenhal. My wounds were being tended to by a healer."

Y.N. reached up to cover his hand with hers, feeling the rough texture of his scarred skin. "I can't believe it," she murmured, tears streaming down her face.

Aemond's gaze softened as he looked at the child in Y.N.'s arms, his heart swelling with a mixture of awe and tenderness. He reached out, his fingers gently brushing through the boy's silver hair.

“I-Is he-“

"Yes. His name is Aemion," Y.N. said softly, her voice filled with pride and love.

Aemond's smile widened at the revelation, his eye shining with unspoken emotion. "Aemion," he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue like a whispered promise. "It suits him."

“Given his resemblance to you-there was no other name for him”

He looked up at Y.N., his expression filled with gratitude. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "For giving me this gift."

Y.N. reached out, her hand finding his, their fingers intertwining.

Aemond's eye filled with tears as he looked at Aemion "May I-may I hold him?" he asked, his voice trembling with anticipation.

Y.N. nodded, her own eyes brimming with tears of happiness. "Of course," she said, carefully placing Aemion into Aemond's arms.

Aemond cradled the boy close to his chest, feeling the weight of love settle over him. Aemion stirred in his arms, his amethyst eyes meeting his father's gaze.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, a silent understanding passing between them.

Then, Aemion let out a small noise of contentment, and snuggled closer to Aemond's chest.

"I'm sorry-" whispered Aemond, his voice choked with emotion. "-That It took me so long to keep my promise. I should have been here sooner."

Y.N. reached out, her hand finding his, her touch gentle and reassuring. "It doesn't matter," she said softly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "You're here now and that's all that matters."

Aemond's heart swelled with gratitude at her words. How had he been so fortunate to have her in his life? "I'm never leaving you again. We belong together, you, me, and Aemion. Nothing will ever tear us apart."

Y.N. looked up at Aemond, her eyes searching his face for answers. "What happens now?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Aemond met her gaze, his expression thoughtful. "Everyone believes I died alongside Vhagar," he said quietly, his tone filled with resignation. "And I'm more than willing to continue letting them believe that."

Y.N.'s brow furrowed in confusion. "But why?" she asked, unable to hide the concern in her voice.

Aemond reached out, gently cupping her cheek with his hand. "Because if everyone thinks I'm dead, then I can be free to live as I want to," he explained, his voice tinged with determination. "I'm free to be with the woman I love, to raise our son together without the burden of duty and expectation weighing us down."

Y.N. felt a surge of emotion welling up inside her, threatening to overwhelm her. She had never dared to hope for a future like this, where she could be with Aemond openly, without fear of judgment or reprisal.

"But what about your family, your responsibilities?" she asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Aemond shook his head, his gaze unwavering. "My family is gone," he said softly. "And as for responsibilities, my only duty now is to you and Aemion”.

Y.N. felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as she looked at Aemond, her heart overflowing with love and gratitude. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. "For choosing us."

Aemond smiled, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "I would choose you a thousand times over," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "You and Aemion are my everything, Y.N. And I will spend the rest of my days proving that to the both of you."

THE END.

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