#.smiling circus au ask.

[smiling-circus-au]

What do their usual fits look like?

『comfortable clothes all around. except hoppy. she's on the grind 24/7 lmao.』

[iidgm]

I haven’t done digital art in like YEARS so it’s kinda sucky BUT CIRCUS DEARIE DEEREST CONCEPT-ISH

She’s an acrobat in this and I based her outfit off this

Still very down bad for the sunshine dog lmao it’s so noticeable

ooo another acrobat !! i see we all think thats the best skill ever fr

watch out dogday >:)) don't get distracted by the pretty deer now

[miguxadraws]

Question bout your swap AU,

Do you have an images of legit interactions with Jax and Ragatha? Maybe a bit of conflict, maybe a bit of goofiness, dealers chouce.

why are you dressed like that

[mrspinkloveheart]

Gacha thing because I didn't want to draw this out👍

⚠️Warnings: Headphone warning (Some effects are loud) and small cussing warning⚠️

P.B is from the swap Au and P.B’s gacha design is based off @littlemoneytoes gacha design just in my style (Order of Aus: Clown/Circus, Envy/Deadly Sins, X87, and then Smile)

[circuschroniclescritter]

Ooh, this Bobby and Lovesick would get along quite well–

They'd make quite the dynamic duo, Bobby, would be giving them a new nickname, tends to keep a lid on their emotions, while Lovesick is more expressive. It's an interesting balance between the two – Lovesick wears their heart on their sleeve, while Bobby quietly observes, occasionally stepping in with acts of mercy, even if it means taking decisive action to end someone's suffering.

I feel like Bobby would go to Lovesick just to have someone understand her more or to see how she 'used' to be in the past!

--------------------------------- Mod Circus Baby ---------------------

[moonstruckme]

hi i love your blog! could you write poly!marauders where james is away on a business trip and everyone is moping because they miss him

Hi, I love you! Thanks for requesting :)

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 864 words

You feel a bit guilty resting your head on Sirius' shoulder while longing for another. But you reason that it’s not so bad if the one you’re longing for is Sirius’ boyfriend, too. And you like to think that if it were James’ warm, cushiony shoulder you were leaning against, you’d be missing Sirius instead. 

“How was everyone’s day?” you ask. 

Remus turns to give you a peculiar look. “It was fine. We talked about this already, didn’t we?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I just feel like we’re not usually so quiet during the commercial breaks.” 

“Our yapper’s gone,” Sirius says, sulkily. 

“James does usually start the conversation,” admits Remus. “But we don’t need him to talk. Right?” 

“Right.” You nod, sitting up with what you hope looks like conviction. “Sirius, you can yap just as well as James can.” 

“Yeah, but I need him to get me going.” Your boyfriend sighs heavily. “He’d probably ask something like ‘If we were all in a circus, what would our roles be?’ and I can’t come up with shit like that.”

“No, that’s great!” You try to sound peppy. “Um, okay. Sirius would probably be a trapeze artist, right?” 

Remus nods. “And I could see you being a tightrope walker.” 

You both look to Sirius for his analysis, but he looks unimpressed. Still, he plays along. “Rem would be one of those blokes who eat fire, likely.” 

“Yeah,” you laugh. 

See, you can have fun! This is fun, right? But then your film comes back on, and you all lapse into silence again. 

“James would’ve never let us watch this,” you say after a few minutes. “He’d have made us pick a comedy or something.” 

“And he would’ve been right,” Sirius agrees. “This is fucking bleak.” 

“It’s not so bad,” Remus says, making you and Sirius exchange a look. For as much as James loves Remus, he’s most often the victim of his film vetoes. Remus’ taste is bleak. 

It’s another few minutes before an actress on-screen says a line, and Remus clears his throat awkwardly. 

“That’s what she said.” 

You and Sirius look at him with a mixture of befuddlement and alarm. 

“What?” He shifts in his seat. “I’m trying to fill a gap.” 

Sirius appears scandalized. “James’ jokes are far more advanced than that.” 

“He said ‘that’s what she said’ just last week.” 

“Yes, but in a completely different context!” 

“We could call him,” you point out. 

Remus’ expression creases longingly. “No, he’s been in meetings all day. I’m sure he’ll want to rest.” 

But Sirius clicks the speaker button on his phone, letting the dial tone play aloud. Remus looks almost relieved. 

James picks up on the third ring. “Hello?” 

“Hi,” you all say loudly, voices each trying to be heard over the others. 

“We need you to come home,” Sirius whines. 

“What?” James sounds closer to the speaker now, like he’s holding the phone tight to his face. “Is everything okay?” 

“Don’t say that,” Remus hisses at Sirius. “Everything’s fine, Jamie.” 

“We just miss you,” you clarify. 

“Oh.” The relief is obvious in your boyfriend’s voice, and you notice your other two boyfriends smiling fondly at the sound of it. You think your own expression probably looks just about as humiliatingly smitten. “Awe. I miss you guys, too. Like crazy, you have no idea.” 

“I think we have some.” Sirius raises a brow at the phone. “Rem just tried to make a ‘that’s what she said’ joke.” 

A sharp cough crackles through the speaker. “Did he? How did it go?” 

“Poorly.” 

“Ah, well.” You can practically feel the warmth of James’ smile from hundreds of miles away. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll work on it when I get back.” 

“I’d rather not do it again, actually,” Remus grumbles. 

“How was your day?” You lean on Sirius’ shoulder again, getting close to the phone like James is contained within it. 

“Boring,” he says emphatically. “I got told off by some old woman for tapping my pen on my pad too loudly while someone was giving a presentation. The hotel they’ve put us up in isn’t bad, though. Free breakfast in the morning to get us energized for another day or torment.” 

“Ooh, could you see if they have those little blueberry muffins?” Sirius asks. “And if they do, wrap me up a few to bring home with you.”

“Sirius,” Remus chides. 

“I’ll check,” James agrees easily. “Rem, do you want some chocolate ones if they have those?” 

If James could see the way your boyfriend flushes pink, he’d be grinning ear to ear. “Yes, please,” Remus replies. 

“Brilliant. And for you, lovie?” 

“I’ll just mooch off of Sirius’ blueberry ones.” You snicker when Sirius gasps, sneaking a hand around your waist to pinch at your middle. 

“Oh, perfect,” says James. “I’ll make sure to grab a few less, then, so you can really fight over them.”

“Prick,” Sirius accuses. 

“Love you, too. So, how was everyone else’s day?” 

You catch yourself smiling a second before seeing a similarly contented expression reflected on Sirius’ face. Remus moves from his armchair to the couch, and you all lean into the phone as you tell him. 

[thesecondhandwoman]

could i request a modern au w/ambessa, where she and the reader are celebs (actor au works with this if you want), and during an interview, the reader gets a rude question or comment, and Ambessa defends them? Like- public relationship or not, she's gonna protect her s/o from rude people

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION

Ambessa x f!reader

Synopsis (AU): You and Ambessa were famous actors, constantly working together throughout your career, and the outside of it as girlfriends too. However, during an interview, an offensive question comes up that makes it a lot more serious.

Request: Anon 🤍

The bright studio lights bathed the room in a harsh glow, illuminating every detail of the set. You and Ambessa Medarda sat side by side on the plush chairs, the centerpiece of yet another promotional interview for Steel Hearts, the summer blockbuster that had shattered box office records. The film followed two battle-hardened warriors—Ambessa as a commanding general and you as a brilliant strategist—forced to unite against a common enemy. Critics had raved about your on-screen chemistry, and audiences couldn’t get enough.

The press tour, however, had been less glamorous. Endless questions, prying eyes, and the constant pressure to present a perfect image had drained your energy. You were thankful for Ambessa’s steady presence. She’d been through this circus more times than she cared to count, her calm demeanor and sharp wit a masterclass in handling the media.

Ambessa exuded power even when seated, her tailored black suit hugging her frame perfectly. Her polished shoes gleamed under the studio lights, and her short, silver hair was styled to perfection. Her hand rested casually on her knee, but you noticed how close it was to yours, her pinky brushing against your hand in a silent gesture of reassurance.

You glanced at her briefly, catching the subtle quirk of her lips, the kind of smile that was just for you. It was the same smile that had made you fall for her months ago when you were shooting the first battle sequence together. You had stumbled over your lines, nervous in her commanding presence, and she’d leaned in with that quiet smirk, whispering, “Relax. You’re brilliant.”

Those words had stuck with you, much like the woman herself.

The interviewer, a man in his late forties with a practiced grin, adjusted his cue cards. He was the latest in a string of journalists, most of whom asked similar questions. You hoped for the same today—something easy, something routine.

“So,” he began, his gaze flicking between you and Ambessa, “Steel Hearts has been a phenomenal success. Congratulations to you both. The chemistry between your characters has really resonated with audiences. Was that something you had to work on, or did it come naturally?”

You smiled politely, though your nerves prickled. “It’s always a process, but Ambessa made it easy. She’s a phenomenal scene partner.”

Ambessa chuckled, her voice a low rumble that seemed to command the room. “She’s being modest. Most of my best takes were because of her.”

The interviewer nodded, though there was a glint in his eyes that made your stomach twist. “Interesting. Well, some might say your character’s intelligence and strength were a bit aspirational. Do you think that’s realistic, given your off-screen persona?”

The question hit like a slap. Your smile faltered as you processed the insult buried in his words. Aspirational? Off-screen persona?

Beside you, Ambessa’s posture changed instantly. Her jaw tightened, and her eyes sharpened into a glare that could cut glass. “Excuse me?” Her voice was calm but laced with danger.

The man blinked, clearly taken aback. “I just meant—”

“No, I’d like you to clarify,” Ambessa interrupted, leaning forward slightly. Her presence was overwhelming, even seated. “Because it sounds like you’re questioning my partner’s capabilities, and I won’t let that stand.”

“I didn’t mean—” he stammered, his face reddening under the lights.

Ambessa cut him off with a cold smile, the kind that made her on-screen enemies cower. “She’s worked tirelessly for this role, and for every role she’s ever taken. If you can’t recognize that, then perhaps you’re in the wrong profession.”

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, the tension thick enough to suffocate. You glanced at Ambessa, your heart pounding. Her protective fury was palpable, a force that wrapped around you like armor.

The interviewer fumbled with his cards, desperate to move on. “Well, moving on, what’s next for you two after Steel Hearts?”

You answered automatically, your voice steady despite the lingering sting of the earlier question. Ambessa’s hand rested on her knee again, close enough for her pinky to brush yours. It was a small touch, but it grounded you.

When the interview finally ended, Ambessa stood first, extending a hand to help you up. You took it, her grip firm and steady, and the two of you walked out of the studio together.

The moment you were alone in the hallway, she turned to you, her features softening in a way only you ever got to see. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, though your voice wavered. “I didn’t expect that.”

Her hand cupped your face gently, her thumb brushing over your cheek. “You don’t deserve to be spoken to like that. Ever. If anyone tries it again, I’ll make sure they regret it.”

A shaky laugh escaped you. “You’re terrifying when you’re angry, you know that?”

Her lips quirked into a small smirk. “Only when I have to be.”

You leaned into her touch, letting her hand anchor you. “Thank you for standing up for me. You didn’t have to go that far, though.”

Her eyes softened, the steel melting into something gentler. “Yes, I did. You’re brilliant, and no one gets to diminish that. Not on my watch.”

The sincerity in her voice made your chest tighten. She always had a way of making you feel like the center of her world, even when surrounded by the chaos of fame.

Ambessa tilted her head toward the exit. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. You’ve had enough of this circus for one day.”

The car ride back to the apartment you shared was quiet, the kind of silence that felt comforting rather than awkward. Ambessa’s hand rested on the center console, and without thinking, you reached over to lace your fingers with hers. She glanced at you briefly, her expression softening further, before returning her eyes to the road.

Once you were home, you kicked off your heels with a sigh of relief. Ambessa followed you into the living room, shrugging off her suit jacket and tossing it over the back of the couch.

“Wine or tea?” she asked, already heading toward the kitchen.

“Tea,” you replied, sinking into the plush cushions. “I need to unwind, not wind up.”

She returned a few minutes later with two steaming mugs, handing one to you before settling beside you. You curled up against her, letting her arm drape around your shoulders. The warmth of her body and the quiet intimacy of the moment eased the tension that had been coiled in your chest since the interview.

“You know,” she said after a moment, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm, “you handled that question well. Even before I stepped in.”

You huffed a laugh. “I don’t know about that. My brain practically short-circuited.”

“Maybe,” she admitted, “but you didn’t let it show. You’re stronger than you think.”

You looked up at her, the weight of her words settling over you like a blanket. “You always know what to say.”

“Not always,” she said with a wry smile. “But I know how much you mean to me. That makes it easier.”

Your heart swelled, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned up to press a kiss to her lips. It was soft and lingering, a silent thank you for everything she’d done for you today—and every day before.

When you pulled back, she was looking at you with the kind of intensity that made your cheeks warm. “You’re everything to me,” she said quietly, her voice a promise. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks or says. I’ll always have your back.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, instead curling tighter against her. “I love you, Ambessa.”

Her arm tightened around you, her lips pressing to the crown of your head. “And I love you. Always.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of quiet conversation and shared laughter. The world outside could wait; for now, it was just the two of you, safe in each other’s arms.

The next morning, headlines about the interview flooded your notifications. Most of them were centered on Ambessa’s fiery defense of you, with phrases like “Ambessa Medarda Shuts Down Rude Interviewer” and “Power Couple Goals: Ambessa Protects Her Partner.”

You showed her one of the articles over breakfast, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like you’ve gone viral.”

She glanced at the headline and shrugged. “Good. Maybe next time they’ll think twice before asking you something stupid.”

You laughed, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

She smirked, her confidence as unshakable as ever. “I try.”

[rmview]

hard to handle | san, m.

summary: san, a cocky boxer with a notorious temper, meets his match in his resilient physiotherapist who refuses to quit despite his antics. he does a good job keeping you at a distance, but during a playful bout, unintentional feelings surface and cause things to get a little physical.

pairing: boxer!choi san x physiotherapist f!reader

genre: boxing!au, pwp, tension, smut

words: 4.1k words

warnings: explicit & messy & unprotected sex, mean!san, cocky dom!san, big cock!san, sub!reader, size kink, pinning/restraining, teasing, clothed grinding, biting, praise, marking, fingering, clit play, orgasm control, edging, handjob, penetrative sex, choking, tears, creampie, almost public sex (?) and voyeurism themes — they’re in a public room with the door unlocked, interruptions.

minors do not interact! | masterlist | more ateez content

“you’re not allowed to quit.”

the words came sharp and sudden, slicing through the air with the same precision san delivered in the ring. you froze mid-stretch, hands stilling over his sore leg. slowly, you turned to meet his gaze, confused by the uncharacteristic weight in his tone.

“…okay,” you replied cautiously, trying to gauge his mood.

san’s brow furrowed deeper, and the irritation etched across his face didn’t waver. “coach kim told me you were planning to leave,” he pressed, voice edged with something almost accusatory.

you blinked, letting his words settle. with how insistent and demanding san was, it wouldn’t have surprised you if that rumor had sprouted legs and started running. after all, you weren’t the first physiotherapist to step into this circus — and judging by the quick turnover before you, most had found the door far more inviting than the job.

but you stayed.

why? it wasn’t some deep-seated need to prove yourself or a traumatic past molding you into a masochist. no, it was simpler than that: the paycheck was solid, and once you learned to see past san’s gruff exterior and insufferable tendencies, he was just… tolerable. like dealing with an overgrown five-year-old throwing tantrums in the body of a professional fighter.

“well, coach is wrong,” you said, shrugging as you resumed your careful movements on his leg. your voice was calm, steady, not betraying the flicker of amusement rising in you at his sudden concern.

but san wasn’t convinced. his dark eyes narrowed as if searching your face for a crack, a lie, a tell.

“he said you’re thinking about it,” he countered, his scowl deepening. “you can’t leave. i need you.”

it wasn’t romantic — far from it. his words came out firm, almost commanding, the way you’d expect from someone used to giving orders. someone used to winning.

still, something about this moment felt different. the commanding façade faltered ever so slightly, and there was a flicker of something raw in his voice. vulnerability, maybe? you weren’t sure. but it was there, buried under the frustration, and you couldn’t ignore it.

what was his deal? what was it about the idea of you leaving that got under his skin?

you paused again, letting your hands rest gently on his leg as you glanced up. his expression hadn’t softened, but you could see the edges weren’t as sharp. your lips twitched, a small smile creeping in despite yourself.

“are you sure coach kim wasn’t just teasing you?” you asked, your tone light as you tried to ease the tension. “you know, considering your, er, personality? because honestly, i haven’t thought about leaving.” even though it’s the saner option, you thought, but didn’t say it out loud.

san huffed, leaning back against the mat, his lips pressed into a thin line. he looked at you for a long moment, his jaw clenching before he finally spoke. “are you calling me a problem?” his voice was low, sharp, and cold enough to send a chill down your spine.

your breath hitched as his piercing gaze locked onto you, unrelenting and unreadable. his tone alone made your stomach twist, but it was the way his leg pulled away from your hands that had you stiffening. the dismissal in his actions was clear — he didn’t want you there.

“i…” you faltered, feeling the weight of his words press against you. “of course not, san. you’re not the problem.”

your voice was soft, careful, an attempt to diffuse the tension. but his eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched, signaling that your words did little to soothe his frustration.

“then leave,” he snapped, turning his head to the side, arms crossing over his chest like a fortress. “i don’t need you.”

his dismissal stung more than you’d like to admit, but you swallowed the lump forming in your throat. “i’m not going anywhere,” you replied, your tone hushed but steady, a small smile twitching on your lips. “i enjoy working with you too much.”

he scoffed, his lips curling into a mean sneer. “don’t bother lying, princess, you’re terrible at it.”

his words were biting, but the way he leaned slightly closer didn’t go unnoticed. he was testing you, waiting for you to crack under the weight of his intimidation.

“i’m not lying, i wasn’t lying.” you whispered, shaking your head. “just teasing…”

“well, stop it,” he growled, his voice dropping an octave. the air around you grew heavier as he glared at you. “it’s annoying. i don’t like it.”

“i know,” you murmured, your voice almost playful as you reached out, lightly brushing your fingers against his arm. “but that’s exactly why i do it. you’re kind of… cute when you’re like this.”

his eye twitched at your words, and the next thing you knew, he moved. with one swift motion, he shoved you back against the couch, his body towering over yours.

“cute?” he repeated, his tone mocking as he pinned your wrists above your head. his grip was firm but not enough to hurt, though the dominance in his posture had your heart pounding.

you stared up at him, wide-eyed and breathless, your cheeks heating under his intense scrutiny. “san…” you started, but your voice faltered.

he leaned in closer, his face mere inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours. “do you think you’re immune to being kicked to the curb just because you’ve been here the longest?” he murmured, his voice low and laced with warning.

your lips parted, a soft laugh escaping despite the way your body trembled under his. every part of you that he touched sent sparks flying through your veins, down your spine and between your legs. “you’d never. i’m your favorite,” you whispered, trying to mask your flustered state with a teasing edge, your words holding truth.

his expression hardened, but he didn’t pull away. instead, his grip on your wrists tightened slightly, his eyes boring into yours. “you wish,” he scoffed, though the slight hitch in his breath betrayed him. that and the subtle twitch of his cock in his shorts that you definitely felt from how you froze.

you weren’t sure whether to feel thrilled or terrified, but one thing was certain: you were treading dangerous waters, and san didn’t look like he was about to let you off easy.

“...this is a very risky, er, position,” you choked out softly, voice slightly strained. your gaze flickered between his narrowed brown eyes, to the door of the break room that you both were in, it’s door unlocked. your thighs rubbed together almost unknowingly and you resisted the urge to squirm. you were trapped.

“mhm.” san hummed dismissively, his gaze not leaving you. every twitch in your expression was noticed by him, especially the growing warmth on your cheeks and ears, that made him smirk. “and?”

“and coach could walk in...” you cleared your throat, mind fogging and something in the pit of your stomach clenching. you couldn’t imagine the look on the old man’s face if he walked in and saw you under the star fighter you were supposed to be healing. “it would be embarrassing.”

san chuckled, and your gaze snapped to his. it was mocking and you shivered — from fear or arousal, you didn’t know. “why? we aren’t doing anything... yet.”

“yet?” your heartbeat was wild, throbbing in your ears. you were sure san could hear it. if he was being so mean, he definitely could and was taking advantage of how meek you were. he knew you could never say no to him, not that you wanted to. “what do you — mmpf!”

the next thing you knew, you felt a tongue slipping past your lips, swirling inside your mouth. your breath was stolen from you, and with his free hand, san grabbed both of your wrists and pinned them to the couch, using his body to keep you in place.

it was a sloppy and dominating kiss. he explored and claimed every part of your mouth without pulling away. his body pressed against yours, and the kiss slowly grew more heated. his hand wandered down your sides, squeezing them softly for a moment before he pulled away from your lips, breaths mingled.

san studied your expression, eyes still narrowed in a cold glare. he smirked at how out of breath and dazed you looked, and pushed his knee between your thighs to part your legs. you were practically shaking and san didn’t even do anything yet.

“stupid.” he mutters out, tone rough and husky. leaning down to your neck, san began sucking on the sweet spot under your jaw that made you squeak.

his body pressed against you, almost uncomfortably, and you were practically trapped underneath him. your wrists were still pinned down, and you were hyperaware of every ridge and pane of his body on top of your curves. his broad chest, beefy arms, strong thighs and hard cock were suffocating you, and there was nothing you could do about it.

“you’re so stupid and cute, i could eat you right now.” he rasped, lifting his head to look down at you. his face was inches from your own. san looked obsessed.

you shivered at the unusual glint in his piercing glare, his smirk almost evil and you flushed. “eat me?”

“every last bit.” his voice was rough. a stark contrast to his actions. his hands would rub up and down your sides gently, his face still close.

a low and sensual growl spilled from between his lips as he kissed you again, lips rougher. he brought one of his hands up to thread into the hair at the base of your neck, tilting your head so he could have more access to your lips. his arm wrapped around your waist, tugging your body as close to him as possible.

everything was fine — as fine as san eating your face off could be — until you felt something long and hard press right against your clothed clit. “ngh... san!”

he merely chuckled against your lips, sharp teeth tugging your bottom lip, and then smoothing the sting with his warm tongue. “what?”

“i’m...” you started, but were unable to continue, gasping when you felt his hips grind against yours once more. small sparks shot from your clit to your spine, and you arched softly, voice a pitch higher. your pussy clenched around nothing. “...sensitive.”

“i know.” san groaned in your neck, and you felt his thick fingers of his free hand undo the drawstrings on your uniform scrubs. he silenced any of your gasps with another kiss, slipping his fingers into the front of your pants to push past your panties. you barely had time to register his next actions, until you felt the rough pads of his calloused fingers run over your quivering clit and folds.

your wrists were still held down with one of his hands as you moaned shakily, eyes squeezing shut. you felt san’s long fingers smear your slick all over the folds of your cunt, cursing lowly under his breath.

“fuck, you’re so wet.” he exhaled, his fingers circling your swollen clit and making you twitch. the feel of you writhing under him, feeling you squirm and hearing you moan, it only made san want more. he leaned down, his lips on your neck, nipping and sucking as he slipped a digit into your pulsing pussy, feeling your tight walls clench around him. “fuck.”

san gritted his teeth and, his body trembled with restraint.

“san... ah...” you squirmed softly as you felt his fingers pump and prod your spongy walls, gushing wetness the longer he stretched out your cunt. your eyes were glazed, and your arousal was dripping down his knuckles the longer he curled and scissored you open on the couch. “we... we shouldn’t be doing this.”

the sounds of your pretty voice, the feeling of your hips moving against his hand, the soft moans and gasps — san was losing himself in you. he added another finger, feeling the heat of your cunt around his digits, wanting to hear those sweet sounds of yours. “oh?”

“t-the door... it’s unlocked.” it was a miracle you could still think from how deliciously he played your cunt, but your ears were still hyperaware of the faint yells and sounds of sparring from the main gym. you throbbed around his fingers, almost in fear of being caught.

san grunted, reaching as deep as he could with the tips of his fingers before slowly pulling the digits out, and glancing down to see the way his skin glistened with your juices. “doesn’t matter.”

“but...” “but nothing.” san scoffed and sat back on his knees, undoing his shorts and pushing the cloth down along with his boxers so his hard cock sprung out. the veiny length was twitching and leaking precum from the angry red tip, and your flushed gaze was drawn to the sight while you rubbed your sore wrists. he used your slick smeared on his fingers to pump his hard cock, taking in the sight of you panting and sprawled half-naked on the break room sofa, thighs parted and folds glistening. “the only one coming in this room is you.”

your gaze met his smirking one and you tried to scowl softly, propping yourself up on your elbows shakily. “very funny.”

“i’m not done with you, princess.” san crawled back over you, pushing his face in your neck to nip at that spot that made you squirm, shifting between your legs.

you were so tired of him toying with you that you reached out to grasp his cock with your hands, experimentally stroking the hard length. your fingers couldn’t even wrap fully around the girth of his thick shaft, but that didn’t stop you. san let out a choked groan, his teeth gripping the flesh of your neck as you flicked your wrist at an agonizingly slow pace.

it was your first time fisting a cock and your hands were almost shaking. yet you loved the feeling of the large man practically turning into jelly above you from a few strokes. it only motivated you to try and squeeze tighter, pumping up and down, as your flustered gaze met his weak one. san was still trying to keep up his facade, but not for long.

san couldn’t hold back any longer. “that’s enough!” he hissed weakly, smacking your hand away and pulling you to lie back down on the couch, while he positioned the bulbous head of his thick cock at your entrance. “no more playing around.”

san was looking down at you, his eyes dark and focused, his body trembling with restraint that was held by a thread. he was so tightly wound and needed to cum now, before he actually lost it.

“o-okay...” your clit throbbed as he rubbed his cock against your wet folds a few times. your eyes were almost hazy from pleasure, and you pawed at the leather of the couch for stability. suddenly san couldn’t hold back any longer.

he grabbed one of your legs, to rest it over his shoulder, and pushed it up before he leaned over you, his body hovering above yours as he nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin on your neck. san’s hand gripped one of the small throw pillows for a moment, moving it underneath your hips, and then he slowly started to push his cock forward into your entrance.

as he sunk his thick shaft into your cunt inch by inch, the feeling of you clenching around him, the feeling of your breath catching in your throat, the way your body shook at the slow bottoming out — san’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head.

he grunted through his gritted teeth, his hand leaving the pillow by your hip to reach up and grasp your wrist, to hold it down again. san looked down at your face, his hips rocking slowly at first to get a feel of stretching out your small stretchy cunt, as his words came in short bursts. “god… ah… just like that…”

“san...” your voice was a soft breathless whimper, the sight of him above you making you quiver and clench more. all your dazed eyes could see was a beefy and sweaty san on top of you, jaw clenched and grunting, and you nearly came on the spot. “y-you... you... i hate you.”

he sight of you below him, so docile, flushed and soft, made his chest swell with something, his lips pulling into a slow mocking grin. “yeah?”

san was so desperate, so fucking hard at the thought of claiming you all night, to mark you and keep you under him. you had no idea how much he needed you. how could you, when he’d never said a word?

your cunt was so tight and warm. like nothing he’d ever had, or imagined in his long showers after training, eyes closed and fisting his cock for a quick release while he wished it was your cunt milking him instead. now, having you under him for real felt like a fever dream, and san’s hips had a mind of their own from the way his thrusts started to pick up pace.

“yeah.” your breath hitched softly, already forgetting your previous train of thought from the way san’s hips angled. the tip of his cock continued to repeatedly bully the spongy sensitive spot in you, making you see stars. “you’re so mean to me... all the time... a-and... and...”

you trailed off, eyes squeezing shut softly as you nearly found yourself cumming all over his cock. san was close too, and he just needed a few more thrusts before —

knock, knock.

fuck.

both you and san froze, and for a moment you felt your soul leave your body. whoever it was, could just twist the knob of the unlocked door and see you sprawled under san, with your leg over his shoulder, and his cock buried ten inches deep in your cervix.

“san, sparring practice in ten minutes!” coach kim called out cheerily from behind the door, unaware.

“we’ll be out soon.” san’s voice rumbled, and your wide-eyed gaze snapped to him, clenching almost in fear. san felt the twitch of your walls and glanced down at you, something almost evil lighting up in his eyes. “doc is still busy working on my bad leg, aren’t you doc?”

the color drained from your face when you felt san’s hips resume their thrusts, and you almost fearfully tried to push him away. shaking your head, you tried to stop him and whisper-yell, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to say a word without moaning shakily, so you stayed silent. something neither san, nor coach would let you do.

“is everything okay in there, doc?” coach kim asked, as you squirmed under san, his large palm holding your hip in place under him, and your ankle in place over his shoulder. his thrusts were still quick, aimed to make you and himself cum as soon as possible, whether coach walked in or not.

“answer him.” san’s lips brushed against your ear as he whispered hotly, smug. “you don’t want him to — fuck — come in, would you?”

it was hard to gather the courage to speak without screaming, especially when you opened your mouth, and the asshole above you took that as the exact moment to decide to rub your clit, coughing softly to disguise your noises. “i, uh, — ngh — we’ll be coming! in sometime... just... go on, coach... no need to — stop that! — wait up!”

you blurted between whimpers, trying to swat san’s wandering hands away as he pinched and rubbed all sensitive spots on your body, even dipping down to bite at your clothed nipples. you were still on edge as coach could walk in anytime, but that didn’t bother san. if fact, his hips pistoned into your cervix at a mind-numbing pace, all thoughts blown from your mind.

“you heard the man,” san grunted in your ear. his smooth skin was drenched in sweat, slight red marks left on his shoulders from your nails, and his brows were furrowed in concentration. “we have five minutes to finish.”

you let out a strangled noise when you felt the sudden onslaught of stimulation, his large palms grasping your hips as he fucked you hard. guiding your hips to match his, san made sure his hips were angled to fuck right up into your womb, smirking to himself when he noticed the slight outline of his cock bulging from your stomach. “t-there’s no way... that we can f-finish... in 5 minutes...”

“you wanna bet?” san rasped, forcing his mouth on yours, kissing you deep and slow, his own grunts and sighs barely muffled by his lips. san could feel you tightening around him, hear the breathy, soft pants coming from your lips.

how could he hold himself back when you responded so eagerly?

san pulled his lips away to look down at you, his hand leaving your leg to grasp at your throat, his calloused thumb resting on your jaw, and his grip firm. you looked so good under him like this.

“that’s it, princess,” san groaned, his hips pushing forward, his voice uneven from all the pleasure. he didn’t think he’d last the next 30 seconds, let alone 5 minutes.

but he wouldn’t cum before you. that would almost be insulting, making sure to use his free hand to fondle your swollen clit, bringing you to finish as soon as him.

“san!” you cried out, already feeling your release building. you tried to bite at your knuckles to keep yourself quiet and muffle all the whimpers and gasps that could reach outside the room. your nails dug into his biceps, eyes squeezing shut.

both of you were so close, san’s hips moving more erratically, and your body losing control. your voice was choked and a pitch higher, every noise you made streaming into soft sobs, tears blurring your eyes. you felt too good. “san... i’m gonna...”

san could feel your body trembling, your breathing getting shallower, and when you spoke, it only made him feel closer. he panted, his breath coming out in hot, uneven puffs, his nose rubbing against yours, his hand on your throat tightening.

“go on… squeeze that cunt of yours tight… i’m almost done.”

you didn’t need to be told twice, and when you squeezed so beautifully for him, san lost himself.

he came with a strangled groan, his movements stuttering, his hand squeezing on your throat for a moment. his eyes squeezed shut as white hot pleasure coursed through his veins, his mind blanking out and ears ringing. for a few moments, he thought he saw the pearly white gates of heaven, as he unsteadily pumped ropes after ropes of his hot cum into your pussy.

you could feel your insides being painted white while san grunted curses under his breath, the hot seed almost burning your walls. he made sure to thrust a few more times so his cum filled your insides snugly, fucking it deeper.

your overstimulated whimpers were what bought san back to reality, the ringing in his ears fading as he looked down at you, disheveled and naked waist down, his cock still buried deep in your cunt.

he was momentarily distracted by the sight of your puffy folds wrapped around the base of his cock, a creamy ring of cum around his shaft. he felt himself twitch, just barely suppressing the urge to fold you in a mating press and take you again.

“still hate me?” his voice was slightly strained. san couldn’t find it in himself to pull out yet. his gaze flickered down to your disheveled shirt stretched over your chest, and he couldn’t help but grasp your breast and squeeze. he’d play with them next time.

you were too out of breath to reply or swat his hand away, exhaling shakily as you slowly got down from your high. “i’m still deciding.” you needed a moment, or ten, to get your thoughts in order. “and you didn’t finish in 5 minutes, you took 8.”

“whatever.” san chuckled, nipping your cheek playfully.

he slowly pulled out, his muscles tired. but he wasn’t fast enough. because the next thing you knew, there was a soft click, and the two of you didn’t even have time to freeze, before the break room door swung open.

“san, you little shit, you’re late for — what the fuck!?”

author note: my first smut fic, yay! if this sounds familiar to you, it’s because this plot is heavily inspired by the love of my life, joo jaekyung from the bl manhwa jinx (he’s the best guy around)! please do interact and tell me what you think! also, i made the banner myself so pls show some love if you think it looks nice :3

tag list: @tsukisrants ; @dawn-iscozy ; @vixensss

[kasel-the-mightless]

[OCEAN DEITY AU: First meeting]

Same scene, but without ✨romantic lighting✨

Since in my AU Odysseus and Penelope are gods who briefly took on the form of mortals, it makes sense that all this "I came to Helen but— PENELOPE" is a farce. But how did they actually meet then? Well—

I like to think that Odysseus accidentally got caught in Penelope's net, and while she was pulling him out, he fell hopelessly in love with her. Because instead of making eyes at the attractive and young god of the sea, she teased him endlessly and caught him in verbal traps

Then there was EVEN MORE exposition which i too lazy to write, Odysseus asked Penelope to marry him, but she told him she would accept his proposal if he solved her challenge. What is the challenge?

Since I'm very bad at coming up with these things, please forgive me, but I'm going to take a page from an old folk tale and slightly change it

The words of her test of Odysseus sounds like this: "My challenge is as follows: Visit my house tomorrow in the morning. But not on horse, not on foot, not dressed, not undressed, without a gift, but with a gift."

Penelope's house was high in the cliffs, and when she went out to meet Odysseus in the morning, she saw him, tightly wrapped in a fishing net, in his halfhuman form, riding towards her on a mountain goat. He smiled smugly

"Where's the gift?" Penelope asked, barely holding back her laughter

"Here," said Odysseus, and showed her a sparrow clutched in his palms, "A gift"

But as soon as he opened his hand, the sparrow fluttered in his hand and flew away

"And there is no gift," Penelope laughed

And so, in fact, they got married

P.s — Today I woke up late, I was freezing, and I wanted to cry from no reason. So, i just— listened to "We'll Be Fine" on repeat and drew my favorite married couple??? Yeah, sounds right

When I've done everything I planned, I'll make some sketches for this AU where I explain the feud between Odysseus and Poseidon. If you guys only knew what kind of circus it is between them....

[diamonddaze01]

HEYYY. I read your off the record jeonghan's fic and OH MY GOD. IT WAS SOOOOOOOO AMAZING AND GOOD. CHEF'S KISS MWAH

I was wondering if you can do jeonghan 75 drabble. I would really really appreciate it. thank you and love you mwah

off the record

pairing: jeonghan x reader | wc: 1.3k prompt: "guess who's going to be a father!" au: f1 au | warnings: mentions of pregnancy a/n: hello hello nari your asks always make me smile <3 // this is a continuation of [on the record] bc ferrari!jeonghan lives in my head rent free (highly recommend you read on the record first for some context)

The atmosphere at the Australian Grand Prix was electric, the roar of the crowd still echoing as the last of the race cars pulled into the pit lane. Jeonghan had just secured yet another win, and the sea of Ferrari red flooded every corner of the paddock. The team was in chaos—cheers and hugs, champagne spraying everywhere, mechanics shaking with excitement—but Jeonghan’s gaze was fixed on something else.

You stood just outside the frenzy, leaning casually against the barrier, your camera poised as you snapped a few final shots. You’d been here before, a part of this circus. But today, you had a story of your own to deal with, one that Jeonghan was certain would find its way to his attention.

Jeonghan peeled off his helmet and flashed a grin at the crew as they crowded around him. But his eyes were still searching for you.

A few weeks ago, you'd written something that had the entire paddock talking. 

"Guess Who’s Going to be a Father!" 

Yoon Jeonghan, Ferrari’s golden boy, had been linked to a famous model, Sienna Hartley, the stunning up-and-coming fashion icon known for her work with luxury brands. A few months ago, the paparazzi had caught the two of them together at a private event. The photos were casual enough—Jeonghan with his arm around her waist, a smile that seemed too comfortable—but it was the following week’s headlines that sent the media into a frenzy.

The shots of Sienna taken at an upscale café, her baby bump unmistakable under a form-fitting dress, had people running wild with speculation. Was Jeonghan going to be a father? Had he been keeping a secret relationship? The rumors only grew when neither Jeonghan nor Sienna commented on the speculation, leaving fans and gossip columns to fill in the blanks.

The rumblings were only growing louder, and of course, you had jumped into the fray, teasing the possibility of Jeonghan becoming a father. The headline had been coy but suggested a connection between the two, leaving just enough room for interpretation. And now, here he was, stepping out of the car, knowing exactly who was responsible for the chaos.

As he walked toward you, the crowd parted around him, but his eyes stayed locked on yours. He could practically feel the mischievous energy radiating from you, even from a distance. The subtle smirk tugging at your lips was all the warning he needed.

Jeonghan approached with slow, deliberate steps, his face a mixture of amusement and challenge. "So we write fake articles now, do we, sweetheart?" he called, his voice carrying across the pit lane.

You didn’t even flinch. With a calm, collected posture, you raised an eyebrow, offering him a half-smile as you lowered your camera. "Just reporting what people are saying," you replied smoothly, voice teasing. "You know, about you possibly becoming a father this year."

"People are saying that?" Jeonghan asked, a slight chuckle escaping his lips. He stepped closer, clearly enjoying the tension building between you two. "Maybe you’ve been spending too much time with the gossip columnists, huh? Could’ve sworn the last time I checked, we were talking about race wins, not baby bumps."

You shrugged, not missing a beat. "Well, Jeonghan, it’s not my fault your personal life keeps getting more interesting than your driving. You really should be more careful with who you’re seen with."

His eyes darkened playfully. "Careful? You think I care about rumors?" he quipped, leaning in just a little bit closer, his voice dropping to a lower, more flirtatious tone. "But if you wanted to get my attention, sweetheart, there are far better ways than a headline about some fake baby."

You tilted your head, smiling in that way that always left him unsure whether you were teasing or challenging him. "Who says I want your attention?" you replied with a hint of challenge, crossing your arms as if daring him to press further.

Jeonghan’s smile only widened. "You’ve got my attention now, don't you?" he teased, his fingers brushing against the barrier you were leaning on, his proximity making it hard to ignore the way the air between you two shifted.

You glanced up at him, keeping your expression casual, but the spark in your eyes was undeniable. "Oh, I don’t know," you said nonchalantly, "maybe I’m just here to enjoy the view of a guy in red doing what he does best – reckless maneuvers that still somehow let him win, y���know?" You paused, letting that sink in. "Though if you really wanted to shut down those rumors, maybe you should take a different approach."

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

You gave him a sly smile. "I don’t know. Maybe just come out and say you’re not the father. Or, you know, get more specific about who you’re spending time with. The fans love a good love story, after all."

The way his expression shifted made it clear that he wasn’t quite ready for this conversation to take that turn. His jaw clenched, a hint of frustration appearing under the surface, but it was quickly replaced with his signature smirk. "Sweetheart, you sure talk a big game for someone who's so quiet when it counts."

You leaned in just a little, enough for your words to linger in the air between you. "I could say the same about you," you shot back, eyes glinting with mischief.

Jeonghan paused, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth, but you had him on edge in a way that he didn’t expect. "Listen," he said, his tone dipping lower, his voice now laced with more than just flirtation. "There's only one girl in the paddock I have eyes for, and it sure as hell isn’t Sienna Hartley."

The tension between you two was palpable, a spark igniting in your chest at his words. You met his gaze head-on, not backing down. "And who says I’m interested in your attention, Jeonghan?" you shot back, smirking. "Maybe I just like watching you squirm under pressure."

He leaned in a little more, his breath coming out a little sharper. "You really think you can get under my skin with a headline like that?" he murmured, his lips dangerously close to your ear. "I’m not the one with something to prove, sweetheart."

You could feel his breath on your skin, but instead of feeling intimidated, a thrill ran through you. "Then why do you look like you’re about to lose that smug grin?" you teased, lifting your chin just slightly, making sure the challenge was clear in your words.

Jeonghan grinned, his teeth flashing. "Oh, I’m not losing anything," he said, the playful tone returning. "But if you really want to get my attention, there are better ways than headlines."

You smirked, standing your ground. "Oh? Well, if you want to do something better with your mouth than argue with me, you know where to find me." You shot him a quick wink and began to turn away.

Jeonghan's eyes widened for a moment as he processed your words, and for the briefest second, he was completely thrown off. His confident swagger faltered, and it was then that you realized: you’d left him flustered.

You glanced back over your shoulder with a smug grin. "But I’ll be honest, Jeonghan," you called out, "I’d much rather see you focus on keeping your title than keeping up with rumors."

And with that, you turned and walked off, leaving Jeonghan standing there, still processing your bold departure. His pulse was racing, but not because of the race. This time, it was because of you—your words, your attitude, and the way you had him on edge in a way no one else could.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath, but the smile on his face betrayed how much he appreciated the challenge. “I should’ve asked her to dinner.”

But knowing you, this was far from over. And next time? He might just have something to say about it.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[lizzyiii]

Fire and Family (1)

SUMMARY | chapter name: Aemond's Mysterious Girlfriend

WARNINGS | no warnings really, perhaps slight homophobia as well as slight rhaenicent, modern au

TAGLIST | if you'd like to be added to the taglist just add your username to this DOC

A/N | I had so much fun writing this omggg

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated ✨

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

“Stop worrying."

Aemond’s grip on the steering wheel was tighter than necessary, his knuckles turning white as he kept his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

“I’m not worried,” he replied, his voice flat and unconvincing.

You raised a skeptical brow, your silver hair catching the light as you observed his tense posture. “Is that why your fists are strangling the wheel, and your eyebrows remind me of an angry bird?”

“I’m not worried,” he murmured again, deadpan.

Rolling your eyes, you turned your attention to the window, watching as the city of King’s Landing whizzed by in a blur of traffic and buildings. “Still not convinced, but I’ll drop it.”

As the car slowed to a stop at a red light, Aemond reached over without a word and pushed your feet off the dashboard.

“You’re going to scratch the dashboard,” he said, his tone more parental than necessary.

You huffed in response. “You know what would’ve made this situation so much better?”

Aemond sighed but humored you. “What?”

“If you’d introduced me to her beforehand,” you replied, casual and flippant.

“Little late for that,” he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on the wheel again.

“Not really,” you continued, undeterred. “We can fix it tonight. You can introduce me to her, and I’ll give her a briefing.”

“A briefing?” Aemond finally turned his head to give you a raised brow.

You shrugged, completely nonchalant. “Yeah, you know, some tips on how to handle everyone. I mean, you know how our family can be.”

He turned back to the road, the light now green as the car lurched forward. “You’ll meet her tonight. That’s final.”

“Whatever,” you muttered, rolling your eyes again at his attempt to sound authoritative.

For a moment, there was silence in the car, the tension hanging in the air until you decided to poke at him again. You turned to him with a mischievous smile.

“So, can I at least know her name?”

Aemond sighed, his patience clearly running thin. “You’ll know it tonight.”

Once again, you huffed, fingers reaching for the radio, but before you could even touch it, Aemond slapped your hand away.

"Aemond!" you protested, glaring at him.

“I am not listening to the Mamma Mia soundtrack again,” he grumbled, his gaze firmly locked on the road.

You leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms in a huff. “It wasn’t going to be Mamma Mia,” you mumbled in a quieter voice, “It was going to be Pitch Perfect.”

Aemond’s lips twitched upwards, but he said nothing, clearly not wanting to start an argument.

After a moment, you spoke up again, “You know everyone's going to be there, right?”

Aemond glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, silently asking you to elaborate.

“Jace is coming back from Winterfell University, Helaena’s flying in from her Dorne trip, and of course, Baela and Rhaena are going to be there too. The whole circus.”

Aemond closed his eye and sighed deeply. “That’s absolutely fantastic.”

You gave him a sickly sweet smile. “I know, right? It’s going to be great.”

CUE THE FRIENDS THEME SONG

"i'll be there for you..."

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴠᴇʟᴀʀʏᴏɴ - ᴜɴɴᴏғғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ᴛʜᴇʀᴀᴘɪsᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ-ᴠᴇʟᴀʀʏᴏɴ-ʜɪɢʜᴛᴏᴡᴇʀ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ - ᴛʜᴇ sᴇʀɪᴏᴜs ʙᴏʀɪɴɢ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ғᴜɴ (ᴀᴇɢᴏɴ's ᴡᴏʀᴅs)

ʜᴇʟᴀᴇɴᴀ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ - ᴛʜᴇ sʜʏ ɢɪʀʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ ᴋɴᴏᴡs ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ

ᴀᴇɢᴏɴ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ - "ʜᴇʀᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛɪᴍᴇ."

ʙᴀᴇʟᴀ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ - ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ sᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ ᴅᴇʟᴜsɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ

ʀʜᴀᴇɴᴀ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ - ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜʀᴀɢᴇ ᴅᴇʟᴜsɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ

ᴊᴀᴄᴇ ᴠᴇʟᴀʀʏᴏɴ - "ᴘɪᴄᴋ ᴍᴇ ʙᴏʏ" (ʜɪs sɪsᴛᴇʀ's ᴡᴏʀᴅs)

ʟᴜᴋᴇ ᴠᴇʟᴀʀʏᴏɴ - ɪs ᴛᴇʀʀɪғɪᴇᴅ ᴏғ ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇs ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ ɢᴀᴍᴇs

。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°

“Family, I’m home!” you called out, stepping into the elaborate white foyer, adorned with red and gold accents, the unmistakable colors of House Targaryen. Almost instantly, you heard a high-pitched squeal of, “Mandia!” before a blur of silver hair zoomed toward your legs.

Before Aegon could tackle you, you scooped him up in your arms. His delighted giggles filled the room as you peppered his chubby cheeks with endless kisses. His tiny hands pushed your face away, but his smile said he loved every second of it.

Still grinning, you carried Aegon further into the house and walked into the living room, where you found your Joffrey sitting at the dining table, looking miserable. His dark hair was a mess, and he seemed to be staring at a mountain of papers.

“What are you doing?” you frowned, setting Aegon down and taking a closer look at the chaos.

Joffrey sighed dramatically, shooting you a pleading look that screamed, Save me. “Mum’s making me do homework.”

“Homework?” You scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “It’s summer break!”

“Please tell her that,” Joffrey begged, his eyes wide with desperation as you ruffled his shaggy hair.

Smirking, you patted him on the back. "Good luck with that, babe. You're on your own."

After that you made your way into your room, tossing your suitcase haphazardly onto the floor, you began the half-hearted process of unpacking. It wasn’t long before the monotony of folding clothes drove you to abandon the task altogether. You had barely been home for an hour, and already you were bored out of your mind.

Deciding you needed some distraction, you wandered downstairs to the nursery, where your baby brother, Viserys, was babbling away in his crib. As soon as he saw you, his face lit up, and he let out a delighted squeal. You couldn’t resist scooping him up, peppering his chubby cheeks with kisses until he was giggling uncontrollably and swatting at your face with his tiny hands.

"Alright, alright, no more kisses," you chuckled, carrying him out toward the backyard. "Let's go hang by the pool. It's hot enough to melt dragon eggs out there."

By the time you settled onto a lounge chair by the pool, it was around 3 p.m. Viserys lay on your stomach, gurgling happily, while Aegon and Joffrey were busy running around with the family dogs, chasing after balls that had long since disappeared under bushes.

Naturally, the estate wasn’t complete without its own mini-zoo: four large dogs—Vermax, Arrax, Tyraxes, and Stormcloud—were bounding around, while Syrax, your mother's obnoxiously spoiled Ragdoll cat, lounged on a nearby chair, surveying her kingdom with complete indifference.

You were just about to doze off when the sound of heels clacking against the stone patio jolted you awake. Your mother, Rhaenyra, burst onto the scene, looking as though she’d just sprinted from the boardroom to the backyard. She was still dressed in a sharply tailored business suit, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, phone in one hand and a look of mild panic in her eyes.

“Hey, twin,” you greeted lazily, raising a hand in half-hearted acknowledgment from your pool chair.

She barely slowed her pace, but she leaned down to kiss your cheek and then pressed a quick kiss to Viserys’s forehead. “Oh, you’re home,” she said, clearly distracted as her eyes scanned the chaos happening around the pool.

“Yup, back from the university zoo,” you replied, glancing at your phone. “By the way, what time are we supposed to be at Alicent’s dinner again?”

Rhaenyra frowned, her silver brows knitting together as she thought. “Five. Why?”

You tilted your phone toward her, raising a brow. “It’s 4:55.”

“Seven hells,” she muttered under her breath, eyes widening. For reasons beyond your comprehension, she always treated Alicent Hightower’s monthly dinners like they were state banquets.

“I know I’m late,” she said, already halfway out the door again. “Just give me five minutes to change.”

As she reached the door, she paused and did a quick headcount. Her eyes narrowed. “Where’s Jace?”

You absentmindedly tickled Viserys’s tummy, earning more giggles as you replied, “He texted me. He’s meeting us there. And he’s bringing a friend.”

Your mother turned around, her interest piqued. “A friend, or a friend?”

You gave her an exasperated look. “Mum, it’s his roommate, Cregan. Calm down, please."

Rhaenyra sighed dramatically, placing a hand on her hip. “Well, considering the way you lot are going, I’ve given up hope for grandchildren.”

You rolled your eyes, pointing at yourself, “First of all, your eldest child—that’s me—is only 21."

Then you gestured at Viserys, who was now trying to chew on his own hand, "And second of all, why on earth would you want grandchildren when your youngest is two years old?”

Your mother waved you off, muttering something about you distracting her before she rushed back inside.

She disappeared inside, muttering something about being late. You let out a long, exaggerated sigh, lifting Viserys off your stomach and handing him over to Elinda, the family nanny who had looked after you when you were a babe.

Once Viserys was safely in her arms, you heaved yourself out of the lounge chair and trudged inside to change, mentally preparing yourself for the inevitable awkwardness that always came with family dinners at Alicent’s.

You settled on a white, lacy top, a floral skirt that was just the right amount of "summer chic," and a pair of simple heels. You gave yourself an approving nod in the mirror. Definitely Alicent-approved.

Feeling confident, you grabbed your phone and headed out of your room, only to bump straight into Luke, who was coming down the hallway. He grinned at you, but your smile quickly turned into a frown as you eyed his outfit—jeans, a wrinkled graphic tee, and sneakers that had definitely seen better days.

"Are you serious?" you said, crossing your arms. "Are you going in that?"

Luke looked down at himself, confused and mildly offended. "What’s wrong with this?"

You gestured dramatically to your own outfit, then at his. "This is a formal dinner, Luke. We're not going to some burger joint."

"It’s a family dinner," Luke said, clearly not seeing the issue.

"Yeah," you emphasized, "hosted by Alicent. You know, the Queen of Passive-Aggressive Judgement? If you show up in jeans and a t-shirt, she’ll feel disrespected. She’ll probably spend the whole evening giving you the side-eye over the salad forks."

Luke crossed his arms and scowled. “It’s not that big of a dea—”

Before he could finish, your mother appeared at the staircase, looking like a force of nature in her sleek, all-black ensemble, her eyes narrowing immediately as she took in Luke’s choice of attire.

"What are you wearing?" she demanded, her voice carrying that “I’m not mad, just disappointed” tone that only parents can master.

"It’s a family dinner," Luke mumbled, pouting like a child caught sneaking biscuits before dinner.

Your mother gave him the look. The one that could send grown men running. "Go change."

"But—"

"Go. Change," Rhaenyra repeated, in a tone that left zero room for argument.

Luke groaned loudly, throwing his head back in melodramatic exasperation before stomping back toward his room like a scolded puppy.

By the time 6 p.m. rolled around, your mother had somehow managed to corral the entire chaotic family into the car. Aegon and Viserys were strapped securely in their car seats, with Joffrey wedged between them, poking Aegon every few minutes just to get a reaction.

Luke sat in the very back seat, arms crossed, radiating the kind of grumpy energy only a teenager could muster. You claimed the front seat beside Rhaenyra, already bracing yourself for the inevitable passive-aggressive showdown awaiting at Alicent’s.

"It’s 6 p.m.," you muttered, stating the obvious as your eyes flicked to the time on the dashboard.

Your mother shot you a side-eye glare that could freeze molten lava. You quickly clamped your mouth shut, deciding now was not the time to point out that being late to Alicent’s dinner would no doubt set off a chain reaction of looks and carefully veiled comments that would last the entire evening.

Rhaenyra turned on the radio, flipping through stations until she settled on some boring classical piece that did nothing to soothe the tension in the car.

As she drove through the sprawling estate, known to everyone as The Red Keep—a legacy of your ancestor Aegon the Conqueror, who apparently thought "over-the-top" was the only acceptable style choice—you stared out the window at the endless rows of manicured gardens, fountains, and random side buildings that no one in your family had probably set foot in for years. The mansion itself loomed in the distance, more of a castle than a house, with its stone towers and stained-glass windows.

When your mother finally parked the car, you all piled out in a semi-organized chaos. Rhaenyra retrieved Aegon and Viserys, who immediately started wriggling in her arms, while Joffrey sprinted off toward the front door like he was being chased by dragons. Luke, the embodiment of teenage apathy, slouched behind the rest of you with a heavy sigh that spoke volumes about his deep emotional struggle of having to attend a family dinner.

As you approached the towering entrance, the ever-present bodyguards, Erryk and Arryk Cargyll, stood on either side like twin statues. You gave them a quick nod as you passed, wondering if even they were secretly judging how late you were.

Before you could step inside, a flash of auburn hair appeared, and Alicent was suddenly in front of you, her expression teetering somewhere between mildly annoyed and disappointed but not surprised.

"Rhaenyra," she greeted coolly, her tone carrying just the right amount of disapproval to let you know you were late—very late.

"Alicent," your mother said smoothly, slipping into apology mode. "I know, I know—we’re late. Work ran long." She leaned in, giving Alicent a quick kiss on the cheek that seemed to linger just a second longer than necessary.

You raised an eyebrow, watching the subtle exchange with some curiosity. You were used to Alicent’s uptight demeanor, but there was always something… odd about the way your mother and Alicent interacted. Maybe it was because, once upon a time, they had been best friends—until Alicent up and married your grandfather, effectively making her the stepmother to her childhood bestie.

Yeah, you supposed that would add some awkward tension.

Alicent sighed, pulling back from the greeting with a tight smile. "Well, let’s just hope the food hasn’t gone cold. You know how my father hates to be kept waiting."

"Wouldn’t want to upset Lord Hightower," you quipped under your breath.

Both Alicent and your mother gave you identical disapproving glares, but before they could say anything, Alicent leaned in to greet you with a polite kiss on the cheek. Of course, you had to be you, so you obnoxiously wrapped your arms around her in an exaggerated hug.

"Hello, grandma!" you said, grinning mischievously.

Alicent rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of affection in her sigh. "You know I hate when you call me that."

"Which is exactly why I do it." You winked before clearing your throat. "So, is Aemond here yet?"

Alicent’s smile faltered for a moment, and you could see the familiar worry crease her brow. “No, not yet. But while we’re on the topic…” She gave you a pointed look. "Care to enlighten me on this mysterious girl he’s apparently been dating for two months? You’re usually the first to know these things."

You raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know a thing about her.”

Both Alicent and Rhaenyra looked like you’d just told them that dragons were real (again). Their jaws dropped simultaneously, and you glanced between them, confused.

“What? Why is everyone looking at me like I’ve grown a second head?”

“You don’t know?” Rhaenyra said, her tone somewhere between disbelief and accusation.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. "Why does everyone expect me to know? I'm not Aemond’s personal secretary."

Alicent waved her arms in exasperation. "Perhaps because you two have been attached at the hip since you were in nappies?"

"Well, for the first time in my life, I don’t know!" you whisper-shouted, your frustration finally bubbling over. "And, yeah, maybe I’m a wee bit hurt that Aemond didn’t trust me enough to tell me her name or introduce us, but hey—that’s his deal!"

Both women stared at you in stunned silence, your mother’s mouth twitching as if she was processing this new information, while Alicent blinked in surprise at your mini-outburst. After a beat, Alicent softened and gave you a light, comforting pat on the shoulder. “The girls are in the lounge,” she murmured, trying to be supportive in the most Alicent way possible.

Lifting your chin, determined to keep your dignity intact, you gave a firm nod. "Thank you." With that, you turned and strode off toward the lounge, making your exit with as much grace as possible.

You took a deep breath, shaking off the last remnants of your frustration, and plastered a bright smile on your face before walking into the lounge. It was one of the many rooms in the Red Keep that felt like it was trying too hard to be both cozy and luxurious, with its intricate tapestries and way-too-expensive furniture that no one was allowed to actually use.

But all thoughts of the décor flew out of your head when you laid eyes on your brother. The first words that escaped your mouth were, "What the fuck happened to your hair?"

Jace looked up from his conversation with Luke and his friend, touching his newly curly locks with a sigh. “Gee, thanks, sis.”

“Not in a bad way!” you quickly backtracked, making your way over to him and playfully ruffling his curls. "I'm just glad you finally abandoned the straightening phase. Natural is always better."

Jace rolled his eyes dramatically, clearly used to your commentary. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway,” he waved a hand toward the guy sitting next to him, “This is Cregan Stark, my roommate.”

You turned to greet Cregan, but the words froze in your throat as your brain registered the sight in front of you. Standing there was a man who looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of Northern Lumberjack Monthly. Dark, unruly hair, piercing blue eyes, and shoulders so broad you were pretty sure he could carry a small house on them.

“Wow," you said before you could stop yourself, your eyes a bit wider than necessary.

Cregan chuckled at your reaction, a deep, rumbling sound. “Not the first time I’ve heard that,” he said, clearly amused.

You quickly regained your composure, throwing on a dazzling smile. "Well, I mean... you're just very Northern."

“Guilty as charged,” Cregan replied with an easy grin.

Trying to focus on literally anything else other than Cregan’s annoyingly attractive face, you turned back to Jace. “Where are the girls?”

Jace, already halfway through his beer, gestured lazily toward the patio with his glass. “Out there. Probably gossiping or plotting our demise.”

You snorted. “Sounds about right. Cheers, boys,” you said, giving a mock salute before heading out to find Baela, Rhaena and Hel.

You let out an excited squeal as soon as your eyes landed on Helaena. Without a second thought, you rushed toward her, practically barreling past Baela and Rhaena with a quick, “Move!”

Helaena, equally excited, squealed back, and the two of you collided in a tight embrace, jumping up and down like you hadn’t just seen each other in a few lifetimes. Which, in fairness, felt true. Helaena had been in Dorne for four months on what could only be described as the world’s longest vacation.

Rhaena watched the scene unfold with an amused smile, while Baela rolled her eyes and dramatically placed a hand over her heart. "Wow, cuz, it’s so nice to know how deeply you value us," Baela said, her voice dripping with mock offense.

With your arms still firmly wrapped around Helaena’s neck, you stuck your tongue out at Baela. “I see you two every day. I haven’t seen Helaena in months, so shush.”

You turned to Helaena, pecking her cheek, before launching into your usual barrage of questions. “Okay, spill! How was Dorne? How was Sunspear? And…” You wiggled your eyebrows dramatically. “How was Quentyn Martell?”

At the mention of Quentyn, Helaena’s cheeks flushed a light pink, and she immediately looked away, pretending to be oh-so-casual. “Dorne was... hot,” she muttered, fidgeting with her sleeve. “Sunspear was beautiful, and... well, Quentyn was lovely too.”

You smirked. “Lovely, huh?”

"Someone’s being a prude," Baela chimed in with a teasing grin. She leaned back against the bench, throwing a glance at Helaena. “Just say what we’re all thinking: you shagged him.”

Rhaena, who had been sipping her wine, nearly choked from laughing, patting her sister on the arm. "Baela, don't tease her. I’m sure it’s all very innocent."

Baela raised an eyebrow and gave Helaena a knowing look. "Yeah, as innocent as Aegon Targaryen with his sisters."

Helaena groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I hate you all.”

You chuckled, plopping down on the bench next to her. “You love us. Now tell us everything. Was there hand-holding? Eye-gazing? Did he pull the classic ‘let me show you the Water Gardens’ move?”

Helaena shot you a look but couldn’t help the small smile creeping onto her face. “Fine, fine! He did show me the Water Gardens, but that’s not the point!”

Baela and Rhaena leaned in closer, wide-eyed like they were hearing the most scandalous story of the century. “Did he kiss you under a lemon tree? Were there doves?” Baela gasped, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Helaena sighed, clearly regretting sharing anything. "You guys are taking the piss at me. And no, there were no doves. But we had a good time, alright? He is very sweet."

“Sweet is good!” you said, nodding approvingly. “But we’re going to need more details later. Like, what’s his deal? Tall, dark, and broody? Or more of the sensitive, soulful type?”

“Definitely broody,” Helaena admitted, almost shyly. “But... in a nice way?”

Baela snorted. “Classic Martell. Broody and mysterious. I’m telling you, it’s the heat in Dorne. Does something to their brains.”

You wiggled your eyebrows again, completely ignoring Helaena’s growing embarrassment. “Well, sounds like you’ve got yourself a Martell boyfriend. Now we just need to figure out how to drag Aemond’s mystery girl into the spotlight, and we’ll be set for tonight’s entertainment.”

Helaena gave you a playful shove. “You’re impossible. But fine, I’ll fill you in on the nonexistent doves later.”

Before you could embarrass Helaena further, Orwyle, the Red Keep’s ever-serious butler, appeared on the patio, clearing his throat. "Ladies, dinner is about to be served. And Miss Helaena, your brother has arrived."

Helaena raised an eyebrow, "Aemond or Aegon?"

"Both," Orwyle replied in his usual dry tone.

The girls perked up, but before anyone could say another word, your phone blared with the opening notes of "A Whole New World."

Baela gave you a dry look. “Seriously? Aladdin?”

You shrugged unapologetically, "Aladdin is a top-tier movie, and you know it."

As the girls made their way inside, you checked your phone screen where the name "Daeron the Forgotten" flashed in large letters. Rolling your eyes, you hit accept, and Daeron's boyish face filled the screen, silver hair tousled and lilac eyes gleaming with mischief.

"What do you want?" you asked, not even trying to hide the exasperation in your voice.

Daeron feigned shock. "First of all, rude. Second of all, I want to know about Aemond's girlfriend. Is she real or just a figment of his moody imagination?"

"You’re such a busybody,” you teased. “How about actually showing up to family dinners for once and finding out yourself?"

Daeron rolled his eyes dramatically. "I would but I was just there two weeks ago. And you know how much my mum can be..."

“Alicent Hightower? Overbearing? No!” you gasped, clutching your chest in mock disbelief.

Daeron smirked, but then his expression shifted as he groaned. "Plus, last month, when Rhaena announced she was a lesbian, and Mum started quoting the Faith of the Seven like she was auditioning for a preach-off... I’m not in a rush to sit through that again."

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, remembering the uncomfortable but hilarious scene. Wiping away an imaginary tear, you shook your head. "Oh, that was iconic. Alicent with the Seven verses... classic."

“Anyway, turn to the back camera so I can see Aemond’s girlfriend," Daeron insisted.

Rolling your eyes, you juggled your phone awkwardly, trying to press the right buttons with your manicured nails as you navigated through the massive Red Keep. “I’m doing it, relax!”

“Well, hurry up!” Daeron complained, his impatience crackling through the speaker.

Finally, after an eternity of fumbling, you stepped into the dining room. "Okay, got it," you said triumphantly as you flipped the camera.

"Ho-ly shite," Daeron whispered in shock.

Your brow furrowed.

"What?" You looked up, following the collective gaze of your family, all of whom were staring wide-eyed at Aemond. More specifically, at the woman latched onto Aemond’s arm. A woman who, you quickly realized, was a lot older than him.

Your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as you finally recognized her familiar face. No. No. No. No.

You blinked, your mouth going dry as you looked at Aemond, who, to his credit, was meeting your gaze with the most desperate “help me” eyes you’d ever seen in your life.

Clearing your throat, you plastered on your best smile, trying to break the god-awful tension in the room. "Professor Rivers! Wow, it’s been a while! How are you?"

The silence in the room somehow got worse, if that was even possible. From your peripheral vision, you caught the sound of someone choking on their wine—most likely Jace—and Alicent’s audible gasp as she clutched her pearls, literally.

This was bad. This was so bad.

Great. Because of course no one else knew that Alys Rivers was your and Aemond's former professor.

Aegon, ever the king of timing, leaned in with a smirk. “So, do we still have to call her Alys? Or is ‘Professor Rivers’ more appropriate?”

You shot him a look that could kill, while Aemond, standing as still as a statue, whispered something that sounded suspiciously like, “I’m going to die.”

Alicent looked like she was about to faint, while Rhaenyra’s eyebrows shot so high, they were nearly in her hairline. “Aemond,” she finally said, her voice tight. “I think you forgot to mention this at the last family supper.”

The room was thick with tension—enough to choke on—and you were just trying to figure out how to survive this nightmare. Grabbing your phone, you whispered into the speaker, "Daeron, I need backup."

On the other end, Daeron was losing it. “Oh, I so wish I was there. This is gold.”

。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°

A/N — tell me what you think!!!! I forgot to put in the word count: 3.9k words. Also for context of all their ages.

Reader—21 | Aegon—24 | Aemond—21 | Helaena—22 | Jace—19 | Daeron—19 | Baela/Rhaena—21 |Luke—16 | Joffrey—11 | Aegon ii—5 | Viserys ii—3 | Alicent—44 | Rhaenyra—44 | Alys—47

Names that are in bold are ones that couldn't be added :(

@missyviolet123 @luckyfirebasement @champomiel @targaryenfamilywreath @lovewithmary @babypink224221

[smiling-circus-au]

Has Catnap ever used his contortionism to scare people? I mean, he probably could do the freaky crawl that's depicted in horror movies without any problems

(Maybe that could be a feature for some horror event at the circus or something???)

"Catnap has scared the shit out of Bobby by doing that. A good wack on the head later and he left her alone."

[iidgm]

So i see the post of the Smiling circus au and how You put that oc are allowed so i did My Smiling Critter un your au.

I hope it's no a bother

OMG !! LOOK AT HER !! SO PRETTY !!!

almost always dances ballet . . . she practices w bobby . . . oh theyre so cute the mental image im getting is so <33

THANK YOU !!! <333

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, smut, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au p aring(s) -> ( eventually ) ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> abuse, mention of sex / pregnancies, etc. words -> 2.3K

abstract -> Never owe people favors it could one day cost you your life...

y/n’s perspective

“Taeyong, you can’t be serious,” I said as I was now in the office of the devil himself. And he's called to get his end in a favor. “You owe me,” he said and I scoffed. 

“You’re literally chasing in a favor from when I was in college,” I said and he only grinned. “You still owe me. Besides, it shouldn't be dangerous” and I scoffed at his reassurance. 

“It's just an interview. You’ll wear a wire, and all I need is evidence” he asked and I sighed. “Fine. But I won't risk my life for this, Taeyong” I said and he nodded. 

“I would never put you in a dangerous situation. This won’t hurt you”

“Do you have to do this? Or at least take one of us with you?” Yeosang asked and I shook my head. “I have to repay him. He helped me a lot in college… besides he's trying to do a good thing” I explained and they sighed. “You’ll be okay right?” Wooyoung asked as he hugged me tightly. 

“Of course, he explained that I'll be going in for an interview and he’ll be listening in case. He will only interfere once he's gotten information though, so I won't be in danger. This won't affect us” I assured them and they nodded. 

“Be careful, circus hybrids are some of the most deprived and abused hybrids” San warned and I nodded. Over the years people stopped performing with animals and advanced to hybrids because of their ability to be trained and have a human way of thinking

Even though many people thought it was better it's not too well known that it's abusive to them just repeating history. “Be careful” they said as I was now on the elevator waving bye to the boys. 

They've really grown. 

I’ve officially had San and Wooyoung for five months. Whilst Yeosang joined us two months ago. It's actually been seven months since I originally adopted Son. I couldn’t be happier to have them by my side. 

Now I had to pay my debt to the devil named Taeyong. He truly does hold grudges… 

I walked into the VIP line where I showed my journalist ticket. I would be able to take pictures, and even conduct an interview. As I walked in I noticed the hybrids on display. 

There were two specifically at the entrance. They had bold big letters ‘MATZ’. They were meant to sit there in a glass box… it didn’t even have enough room to walk one step. In a smaller print were their names. 

Seinghwa was the one smiling and bowing, whilst Hongjoong only stared. He would be too far down, he could probably be dangerous. The ones around me started flashing lights at them… it clearly bothered them. I made sure to ask Taeyong to give me a camera without a flash. I took a photo of the surroundings. Another reason why he had me do this job and not Mark was because I have a hybrid specialist license to see and even handle red-coded hybrids with supervision. 

I knew how to analyze their behaviors. So when I saw Hongjoong, he had the potential to be a black code hybrid. 

“Hello! Welcome, it's an honor to see such esteemed guests !! I hope you may enjoy the show !--” as he spoke I saw his ringmaster look. He had jesters and clown costumed people handle hybrids. A few were assigned to cuff and ensure ‘MATZ’ did not act out.

They were tigers and therefore dangerous. 

“-- Of course, if you need help please ask one of my staff. I look forward to the interviews I’m scheduled for” he said as he left. As the staff looked at our tickets I was led to the back. I was given a pre / post-interview. 

“Hello, I’m going to be conducting an interview?” I said as I now saw the ringleader with the two tigers. They had chains connecting to their collar which looked like ones that were for black code hybrids. 

“Ah yes, may I ask which firm it is under?” he asked and I nodded. “It would be under the N.E.O. Firm” I stated and he nodded. 

“I see. How is Dong Sicheng ?” he asked and I smiled. “He’s actually on vacation at the moment. Last I heard he was in China visiting a few friends. '' I answered and he chuckled. 

“I know, your firm isn’t too keen on me,” he said and I noticed the curious eyes of the tigers. “Well, the firm has hybrid rights associated. It has been for years now” I answered and he nodded with calculating eyes. 

“That it is. Though I can assure you, our hybrids are treated like family” he said and I smiled softly as I wrote down notes of the two hybrids behind him. They were clearly agitated by his words, almost like he was lying.

“Well then. What are your questions?” he asked politely. “How many hybrids currently do you have registered?” I asked and he nodded. “Around fifty dear,” he said and I nodded. “And all are vaccinated with the current hybrid regulations, health up-to-date, VISA’s registered?” I asked and he answered yes. 

So he denied hybrid trafficking, and hybrid health neglect.

“May I ask you to talk about MATZ?'' I asked and he nodded. “These two were born into the circus. Their parents are a mix from our circus and a breeder which I know personally” he explained and I saw how Seonghwa kept on staring at my coat. His ears were twitching and I noticed Hongjoong’s glare at me….

“These two are such close friends we thought that a show would be most beneficial and fun for them,” he said while lifting his hands to pet their heads making them both clearly uncomfortable. Seonghwa stared wearily whilst Hongjoong looked like he could bite any minute.

“May I ask if I own hybrids?” He asked and I contemplated. “Decline anything in your personal life” I heard on the headpiece Taeyong gave me.

“No, I do not,” I said and he nodded. “Are you against the ownership?” He asked and I shook my head. “Not necessarily… it would take a lot of circumstances for me to adopt a hybrid,” I said and the ringmaster only nodded. 

“I can assure you every hybrid here is taken care of, and we’ll look after it, '' he said and I noticed Seonghwa's gaze. It wasn’t like Hongjoong’s glare; it was almost like he was pleading for help. 

“What’s the situation with heats?” I asked and he chuckled… “I don’t believe in heat suppressants. I let them go on with it with the other gender hybrid” he explained. 

Meaning it's how he has so many hybrids… he’s illegally breeding them. “Are you not worried about pregnancies?” I asked.

“No… some of our female hybrids are sterile so they can’t reproduce either way” he explained.

It wasn’t abuse per se to sterilize a hybrid… but it was being argued for hybrid rights.

“How long have you had this duo?” I asked curious. “Hmm, these two rascals? Well, they were born in 1998 and they’ve been with me since then.” He said and I nodded.

Would they speak out against their master? They would’ve seen everything… been through… everything.

“Sir?” I heard a clown asking for the attention of his boss. “Ah give me a moment my dear, why not have an exclusive interview with a MATZ performer. Hongjoong needs some touching up so Seonghwa treats her nicely '' be said and I knew the reason why they took the orange tiger away was because of his behavior.

“Be careful, an abuse hybrid can be triggered at any mention of abuse. Ask simple questions.” Taeyong said and before I could start I looked at him.

He stared at me with soft eyes and a smile... it shocked me how gentle his expression looked.

“I’m not fragile for you not to ask me,” he said and I felt my eyes widen. “The moment you walked in I heard that radio of yours… it kinda hurt at first” he confessed.

“I’m sorry,” I said but I couldn’t turn it off for my safety.

“It’s alright… you're not the first person to come here to infiltrate this place,” he said with his ears flattening on his head. He was losing hope for himself.

“How many hybrids are there?” I asked and he sighed. “I’ve lost count… it is over a hundred by now and more to come” he explained. “Oh, and he doesn’t register hybrids in case they die. It’s a miracle to even survive birth here… let alone survive being a baby here. We aren’t checked for until we’re cubs… after that, we’re never looked after again. The only thing he’ll ask to do is hygiene for his top performers” he explained.

“I’ve heard of your firm from the clowns… they hate you,” he said and I chuckled. “They said something about a girl writing about hybrid rights. Since then they’ve shut down several enterprises” he said and I smiled.

My reputation follows me.

“They might know who you are, be careful,” Taeyong said and Seonghwa only stared at me with twitching ears.

“You must have really good hearing to catch it,” I said and he smiled softly with his tail swishing behind him.

“Thanks… but it comes in handy with the staff,” he said and I sighed. 

“Do you have anything you want to tell me?” I asked and he swallowed down saliva showing how nervous he was.

“I’ll tell you everything if you manage to burn this place down,” he said and I sighed. “How about we make a promise?” I asked and he looked at me confused.

“I’ll shut this place down… but that’ll be the easy part. I’ll still need some more evidence after to concrete it” I asked and he nodded.

“Good luck”

The show was like any other hybrid show. 

You could see the fear in hybrid's eyes when they made a mistake and had to cover it. Clowns and performers have the upper hand. 

MATZ had the opening… they did dangerous stunts. There were a few times they stumbled but otherwise did the best they could. The crowd loved them… I saw the contrast of the two… fear and anger.

Once the show was over I did a closing statement with the ringmaster and some staff who showed me around.

“And our opening act. Did you enjoy it?” they asked and I smiled when I saw Seonghwa and Hongjoong in a tiny cage. It had enough room for the both of them but it must've made them feel trapped.

The staff were talking to other reporters when I noticed the heavy glare Hingjoong was giving me.

Seonghwa got his attention and looked to be scolding him only for him to scoff. He looked over at me and bowed in an apology in which I shook my head. 

“I hope you enjoyed the show” 

seonghwa’s pov

As the reporters left with the staff, Hongjoong glared at me. “Quit acting that way” I scolded and he scoffed

“She’s not the first person to come here asking for questions with a wire,” he said and I sighed.

“You heard what they said about that firm though—“ “She also said how she didn’t own any hybrids but owned three,” he said and I was confused. 

“She has hybrid scents reading out of her. You shouldn’t trust humans so easily… one day it’ll be you they’re disposing of” he said and I looked down.

“I… sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out that way. I’m just sick of this Seonghwa but this is our life and it’ll never change” he said and I chose not to believe that. 

I had hoped that she’d complete her promise.

“Hongjoong…. Sometimes you just have to have faith that people are still good. We don’t know how it is outside… maybe it’s different” I said and he sighed.

“But is it any better?” He asked and before I could respond I heard yelling.

“Woah!? What are you doing?!” I heard as I saw the ringmaster following… policemen? 

“This place is being temporarily shut down for inspection and so are the hybrids in this vicinity. If we find anyone trying to smuggle or hide evidence you’ll be under arrest for tampering with a crime scene” he said and I also noticed people with white lab coats. 

“Start arresting staff members and performers. Contain all the hybrids as well” he ordered and the last thing I saw was Hongjoong defying them whilst I felt a sharp pain in my neck.

Everything could only get better… right?

Waking up in a white and cold room was not what I expected…

“White tiger hybrid seems to be malnourished, untreated second-degree burns, underweight, untreated cuts, and dehydrated. Seems to be approximately 25 years old and unclassified code due to tranquilizer” I heard… Was that a doctor?

I tried sitting up but my wrists were bound. 

“You’re awake? Are you going to comply?” he asked me and I noticed how close he was. He seemed to purposely try to annoy me… “Classified as yellow. He’s one of the tame ones” he said into the radio. Classifications? I knew very little of that… but yellow wasn’t bad?

“The orange tiger is awake, and is showing a lot of aggression” I heard on his radio… Hongjoong? “Tranquilize him,” the doctor said and I struggled against the constraints. “He’s your partner, right? They won’t hurt him, but he will hurt us… he’s in good hands'' he said and I scoffed. Like I’d trust humans now after… 

“What happened to the reporter?” I asked and he looked at me confused. “She promised to help me… what did she do?” I asked and he hummed. “She’ll be conducting interviews this following week. So be on your best behavior or you’ll end up in a higher code” he said as he left the room. 

She actually… helped us?

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[ladykailitha]

The Au Pair Boy Part 3

I'm living for the love for this story!! Thank you everyone!

I'm sorry to say that any requests to be added to the tag list will be ignored. It's all full up! But! You can follow me and put on notifications. That seems to work for most people!

In this we have a lot of growing pains and the girls try everything they can think of to keep Eddie home.

Part 1 Part 2

~

The next couple of days were spent ironing out of the kinks and setting expectations. Like when Steve scolded Janice for pulling on Joan’s braids and she yelled back that she wasn’t the boss of her.

Both girls went running to their dad.

Eddie looked down at his two little sun spots. “I don’t know why you’re coming to me about this, if Steve saw Jannie pulling Joanie’s hair, then he had every right to call it out. Just like Chrissy, just your uncles. He is in charge while I’m gone, so you better get used to his authority. Both of you girls go sit on your time out chairs for five minutes.”

Both girls gasped in shock, but after an intense showdown, they did as they were told.

“Thanks for that,” Steve said with a huff. “There’s always a little bit of give and take for first couple of weeks, and you laying down the law will really help that.”

Eddie smiled up at him. “It’s just been a tough year for them both. They’re old enough to remember Ethan, but young enough that it’s all the good and none of the bad. So they don’t understand why he left. I’ve been talking to a couple of therapists that think once they’re a little older, they want to start seeing both girls.”

“Nothing quite as traumatic as abandonment issues from an early age,” Steve said with a nod.

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “Sounds like you’re talking from experience.”

Steve sat down on the sofa with a sigh. “Unfortunately, yes. Only my parents did just enough to make sure I wasn’t taken away from them. Making sure their trips would only last long enough that it would be considered child abandonment and endangerment. Sending me gifts for my birthday and Christmas, but not being there.” He ran his fingers through his hair.

“Then as I got into high school, sending me money for groceries and gas. As well as a hefty allowance to make sure that I wouldn’t talk. ‘Let’ me throw lavish parties and then ground me when they found out. Only they would pack up and leave, knowing I’d ignore the grounding because they were gone. Just a bunch of stupid shit like that.”

Eddie’s expression softened. “In the Hall of Fame of shitty parents, that’s really up there, man.”

Steve let out a huff of bitter laughter. “I got the last laugh though. The second I turned eighteen and finished school, I told them I was running away with my best friend and joining the circus. Then I told them I was bisexual and never looked back.”

“So how was the circus?” Eddie asked with a grin.

“Not as fun as you’d expect,” Steve conceded. “Robin and I didn’t have anything like skills to be a performer, and wasn’t experienced in running the booths and rides, so we were part of the put up and take down crew.”

“So how did the nanny thing come about?” Eddie asked, crossing his legs and leaning his elbow on the arm of the chair.

“I used to babysit these kids when I was younger,” Steve said, putting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together, “and when the one’s dad died and left a hefty life insurance to his mom. She suddenly was overwhelmed and hired me to nanny for her.”

Eddie thought back to the resumé the agency had sent over. “Mrs. Henderson, right?”

“That’s the one,” Steve leaned back on the sofa. “Dustin was a good kid. Too smart and arrogant for his own good.”

“Then of course, Mrs. Henderson recommended me to her friends,” Steve said. “One of them said they would only hire me through an agency. My ex-girlfriend happened to work at a nanny agency while she was going to school and offered to put in a good word for me.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “That was nice of an ex. I don’t know if I have any exes that would do the same for me.”

Steve just shrugged. “We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms either, but I used to babysit her younger siblings and knew how good I was. Nancy Wheeler is nothing but logical. She knew I would be good at it.”

“I spoke to a Nancy earlier,” Eddie said thoughtfully. “She really went to bat for you.”

“That’s Nance for ya,” Steve huffed. “Tenacious to a fault. This is her last semester at college and then she’s going to go to Emerson to get her journalism degree. She wanted to get her generals out of the way so she wasn’t paying out the ass for them.”

Eddie smiled. “Looks like I really lucked out then.”

“I guess you did,” Steve said softly. “I did too. Having you here these last couple of days have really helped out. They are still going to have the worst meltdowns during that first week you’re gone, but knowing you’ve already set the boundary they’ll only butt against it instead crossing it.”

Eddie smirked. “They’ve chased off nannies before. It’s why I have a very specific list of do’s and don’t’s with anyone I hire.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it,” Steve chuckled. “Normally, I’d put them to bed, but because it’s your last night with them, I’d suggest you do it.”

“Of course,” Eddie said softly. “Thank you for taking good care of them, Steve. I’m really grateful to be leaving them in such capable hands. I don’t want to go on this tour, not really. But I need a break. I love my girls, but with Ethan leaving it feels like he took away my right to chose how to live my life.”

Steve got up and moved to the desk and sat down on it half way. “But at least you have the money and the wherewithal to make sure they are taken care of. Every parent needs a break once in awhile. You’ll go out there make your fans happy and then when you come back, you’ll appreciate them all the more for leaving.”

Eddie looked up at him, then his eyes fluttered shut. He pursed his lips together and leaned his head back. He opened his eyes to look at him again. “You don’t think I’m being a bad parent?”

“It does you no good to burn yourself out,” Steve soothed. “It would do them more harm if you burned out and couldn’t take care of them anymore.”

“I love them so much,” Eddie said, his lower lip quivering. “But not having any help except Chrissy occasionally made it hard.” Tears trickled down his cheeks.

Steve pulled out a tissue and handed it to him. Eddie let out a watery chuckle. “You didn’t have anyone close that could help you?”

Eddie wiped his eyes and shook his head. “My former bandmates kinda scattered all over the globe. Gareth in Wales where his family is from, Jeff in New York, and Brian in LA. My uncle, Wayne broke his leg just after Ethan left and he’s just barely moving around without a cane. I couldn’t make him watch two rambunctious four year olds.”

He let out a shuddering breath and then another. “A lot of the nannies we had kept trying to be their mother. One was even caught trying to teach Joanie to call her Mama.”

“That’s rough,” Steve murmured. “But I’m here to help you. I’m not going to try and replace you as their dad. Or even Ethan, really. I’m just an extra person you can rely on.”

“You don’t mind setting up the household staff do you?” Eddie asked, his voice still rough from the crying. He blew his nose and then threw the tissue away in a nearby garbage. “It’s just that I want people that will work well with you and not try to fight you on every little thing.”

Steve shook his head. “No I get it. Plus getting help for a place as big as this one, I’d need the help otherwise I’d wear myself out before you got home.”

Eddie chuckled. “Do you like the house? Some of the other nannies thought it was creepy.”

“Mr. Muns–” Steve began but Eddie cut him off.

“Call me Eddie,” he said softly. “Mr. Munson makes me feel old and I’m not ready for that yet.”

“All right, Eddie,” Steve murmured back, “I think it’s spooky in a fun way. It’s not creepy. It’s beautifully decorated. I’ve seen creepy. Like tiger and elephant heads mounted on the walls with fully stuffed birds and in one horrifying case a Tasmanian wolf.”

“Aren’t those extinct?” Eddie asked with a grimace.

“Oh yeah,” Steve said, moving to sit on on the desk all the way, to put some distance between them. Before he did something stupid like kiss his boss. “I made sure to report his taxidermy to the Feds on the way out.”

“Brutal.”

“Dude was creep and his wife wasn’t much better,” Steve said with a shrug. “I felt sorry for their kids. They didn’t deserve having parents like those.”

“What made you leave?” Eddie asked, honestly curious on how Steve could have gone through so many clients considering he didn’t seem very old.

Steve kicked his feet a little, careful not to kick Eddie. “They aged out of needing one. They were already pre-teens when I got hired. They basically only needed someone to pick them up from school and make them dinner before their parents came home.”

“How long were you with them?” Eddie asked, more to keep Steve there then any real curiosity he had. Yeah, he had been curious about what made him leave, but this was blatant flirting at this point.

Steve laughed. “What’s this, more interview?” he teased. “No, in all seriousness, it was about a year. Most of my clients only need me temporarily anyway. I’m pretty sure that for at least three of them, their friends or family got to them about me being a guy, because they hired a female nanny soon after.”

“That’s bullshit,” Eddie huffed. “I’m sorry that they kept doing that to you. If anyone says anything to you, send them my direction. I’ll set them straight.”

“Thanks,” Steve murmured. He checked his watch. “It’s about time for me to make dinner.”

Eddie nodded and watched him leave. Once Steve had closed the door to his office behind him, Eddie put his head in his hands. It was so hard to keep his hands to himself when Steve was that close.

He just hoped that the three months he was going to be gone would be enough to put out the fire in his gut for his new nanny for fuck’s sake. He needed to get laid, Jesus fucking Christ!

The rest of the night passed with relative ease. Steve made meatloaf and garlic mashed potatoes with corn on the side.

Night time went well, too. Both girls drifting off to sleep quickly.

Morning, though? That was what was fraught with difficulties and tantrums.

Joan refused to get dressed, flopping on the floor and sobbing uncontrollably. Janice dumped her cereal on the floor, kicking and screaming like a toddler. Joan threw herself at the door while Janice tried to hide Eddie’s shoes.

Eddie stared Janice right in the eye as he pulled out another pair of shoes out of his carry-on. And then another out of his suitcase. He put the shoes back in the suitcase, but pulled on the shoes from his carry-on. All while Janice stood there with her jaw on the floor.

Steve pulled Joan away from the door so Eddie could open it and both girls started crying. Eddie hugged and kissed each girl goodbye.

Steve picked up both girls and held them up to the window so they could wave goodbye as Eddie drove off.

He set them down and they both flopped on the floor like ragdolls. He let them lay there for awhile, even taking advantage of Joan not moving to get her dressed. He put his hands on his hips it was going to be a long week. A very long week.

~

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Tag List: CLOSED

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3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

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10- @kultiras @morallyundefined @ollieolive @themoonagainstmers @tartarusknight

[vaokses]

Anger, a daughter (Pirtir, Ch.1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: You return to Dragonstone after nearly two years away, having done what was expected of you and secured your mother's standing with the Great Houses. The safety that you felt after once again doing what was expected of you is taken once you learn that in your absence, your family arranged for you to marry Aegon.

Word Count: 4.5k 

Warnings: Topic of arranged/forced marriage. Threats of violence. The usual Targaryen incest stuff.

Some AU/Setting stuff: Reader is a bastard of Daemyra (claimed by Laenor of course), firstborn child of Rhaenyra and heir to her mother’s claim. It is mentioned she has Valyrian features (the hair). She rides Vermithor. She and Aegon had a thing when she was still in King’s Landing. How relevant or impactful that ‘thing’ was depends on who of the two you ask. I’ve stretched the timeline a bit. Rhaenyra spent a few years more in King’s Landing (making Aegon around 16/7 when she leaves, and the Reader, the eldest of the Velaryons, around 14/5). Instead of six years in Dragonstone, the Blacks have spent around three there in this story. Viserys still lives (and is rotting slightly slower), Aegon and Helaena did not marry. Mysaria left for Dragonstone with Rhaenyra, but is still the information broker of the first season, just working from afar. The Reader has spent nearly two years touring Westeros, as her mother did, in search of a husband.

A/N: No Aegon or any of the greens yet, but I wanted to set up some things, so this can be considered a prologue of sorts. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy!

Title is from the "anger, a daughter" by volatilepoetry (link to the piece here, I couldn't find the author's socials)

“Cousin.” You greet with a wide smile, taking the riding gloves off as she comes closer, a mirror of your own smile on her lips. 

“Sister,” Baela greets in kind in well-practiced Valyrian, at your reprimanding glare answering with a defiant one of her own. She grabs your hands in hers, smile wide and mirrored in your own face. “I thought you would return to Dragonstone, at the end of your…tour.” 

“Even I tire of politics, of playing,” You admit, linking your arm with hers and letting her guide you towards the Driftmark castle. “I wish to rest for a while, before I am to report back to f-…to Daemon. I hoped our grandmother would grant me a few days here?” 

“I’m afraid it won’t be possible,” She tells you, pulling from her belt a rolled up message and offering it to you. “A raven brought this shortly after dawn.” 

You immediately recognize Daemon’s handwriting, as well as the parting message he directs at his daughters and you in place for a goodbye. Fly, daughter. 

Your sister is needed at home, tell her to return to us at once. You must ready yourself to fly to Dragonstone at my command. I’ll send word. Sōvēs, tala. 

“So, who did you choose? Whoever it is, you made father angry.” 

“Your father.” You correct, but she pays it no mind, as she always does. 

“So, who will be the lucky man?” 

You turn to face her as you both stand in the base of Driftmark’s stairs. 

“I didn’t choose anyone.”  

Of course, a Tyrell knight caught your eye and your attention for a while, and you could use the strength of the alliance marrying Vaemond Velaryon’s son would bring, or Rickon Stark’s. You even considered the proposal of Hobert Hightower’s grandson, if only to see your mother breathe fire at the mere idea of it, were you to propose such a union. 

But the tour was never organized for the purpose of finding you a husband, this you knew from the beginning. It is the reason you agreed to such a circus in the first place. As Rhaenyra’s first-born child, heir to the Iron Throne and future Princess of Dragonstone, you were sent throughout Westeros to remind the noble Houses of the pledges they made, of where their allegiance is to lie if they hope to remain on the Crown’s good side. 

What foolish Lord you couldn’t charm with a well-placed smile or compliment, Vermithor’s presence in their city would remind promptly of the risk of turning on your House, of undermining your mother’s claim. What wouldn’t bend to your will, you would remind how quickly you could break. Such was your task, what was demanded from you, and you played your part as you have always done. 

It matters not if by the end of this tour, after twenty months away from home -though a part of you reminds you it has been much longer than that, it has been over three years-, donning whatever face was deemed ideal to realize your objective; you cannot really remember who it is you were before it all. It matters not if it has been months since you’ve been able to meet your own gaze in a mirror, in fear of seeing a stranger -or worse, a familiar face, your mother’s, your father’s, Lady Mysaria’s- looking back. 

Your eyes meet Baela’s, and you whisper, “Have you heard I am to marry?” 

She hesitates, and that is enough of an answer. You shake your head, step away, stumble over your own feet. 

___ 

You almost feel a young girl again, in the worst possible way, dragged like a dog on a leash after your mother as she departed King’s Landing, gritting her teeth at your cries and answering with soft caresses of your silver hair to your promise that you would never forgive her for taking you from your home. 

Now, over three years later, you are to be dragged back to the city that saw you be born, away from your mother’s side, from your brothers’ and stepsister’s sides. And the people responsible for arranging for such a thing are set on hiding, on ignoring you since your return to Dragonstone. 

For a time, especially since your aunt’s death and Aemond’s claiming of Vhagar, you believed your mother and Daemon kept you unmarried, kept you here, so that if war were to break out, they would have you and Vermithor to send to battle, to which he is no stranger. You believed if you would one day have to marry, it would be to defend your own claim, offering your hand in exchange for an army, to a man that would know to bend the knee before his queen and before his wife alike. 

You believed they kept you near, they let you remain unbound and unmarried, because you served a purpose while free. You believed by playing your part as was demanded from you, twisting and turning to fit into whatever face you were expected to wear, you would have some control over any of it, you would be safe. How foolish, childish, those notions were. 

Since Vermithor flew you into Dragonstone, your mother has secluded herself in her rooms, and you have only Daemon to ask for answers to the madness that brews past the safety of the island. 

“I do not wish to leave. I will not leave, unless you tell me what awaits me in King’s Landing.” 

But you know, some part of you knows, and that part of you is gnawing at you, at your composure, at your resolve. 

Daemon shrugs one shoulder, “Why? It was once your home. That shithole of a city saw you be born, after all.” 

“My home is, as has always been, Dragonstone.” Lie, lie, lie. You remember the halls of the Red Keep better than you know the halls of this very castle. 

“Then you must be used to homesickness by now. Five and ten years raised in King’s Landing, nearly two years touring Westeros. You have spent…what? A year settled here?” 

You roll your eyes, but he doesn’t much care, walking past you to pour himself a cup of wine. He lifts an empty cup your way to offer a drink, but you hold your ground, and insist, 

“I detest games, Daemon.” 

“You sound like your mother when you talk like that,” He quips, with cruel humor, chuckling at a joke that only amuses him. You turn to look at him with narrowed eyes and jaw set tight, and he lets out another mad little chuckle, “You also look like her when you glare like that.” 

“I only ask that-…” 

“When in your life have you asked for only one thing?” 

“And yet you have always indulged me. Indulge me now,” You ask, walking to him, forcing the tension in your shoulders to loosen and your face to reflect the softness of the child he has always had a weakness for. What is expected, what is needed, if you are to win this particular battle. Your mother, your brothers, they are to be faced with callous strength, with a temper and a certainty you inherited from the man who made you who you are; but the man himself is to be faced with the pleading eyes of his daughter, with the docile manners of a maiden who needs his guidance, his protection. And so, you show the face required to get the upper hand. Quietly, softly, you plead, “Do not insult me or my intelligence by acting as if I cannot understand whatever game is being played.” 

“You wield lies effortlessly,” He concedes, head lolled to the side as he considers you, “But you should know better than to try with me.” 

You allow yourself a smile, despite yourself, and let go of pretenses. Even so, you aren’t sure if the face you show Daemon now is an honest one, or merely yet another mask to try and gain his favor. 

Shrugging one shoulder as you lean against one of the stone pillars, you admit, 

“It was worth a try.” 

“It is more of an instinct than a choice by now, I’d say,” Daemon corrects, taking a few steps in your direction. You don’t miss the fact that he has positioned himself between you and the door, a physical reminder that whatever he is about to say is as inescapable as this room. “A useful instinct, now that you are to marry.” 

Your refusal is immediate, “No, I’m not.” 

At his answering look, halfway between surprise and anger, you wonder absently if this is the first time you’ve denied him since he married your mother. 

“You are aware this is not a request.” 

“I’ll feed to Vermithor whatever man you try chaining me to. You are aware this is not an empty threat,” You tell him. It feels good, to admit such a thing, to promise such a thing, because it feels true. “I told you I wouldn’t marry unless the war demanded it.” 

“It does. You are to avoid war, and marry my brother’s son, Aegon,” He promises, and he knows it, you see it in his eyes, that at the uttering of a single name your threat is made null. You realize then why it is your mother hides from you. “It is done, a deal has been brokered with my brother and his wife, y-…” 

“You have no right to make arrangements in my name.” You blurt out, a desperate attempt, not unlike a cornered beast lashing out and wounding its own maws as it bites the approaching spear. Now this, shamefully, terribly, this feels yours. This anger, this desire to hurt. With all the venom of a lifetime of wasted deference, of useless loyalty, you ready yourself to speak a lie once again, “You are not my father. Whore out your sons to the Hightowers if you wish, but you have no right t-…” 

Your words die in a gasp as Daemon hurls the cup in his hand at a wall and advances towards you, quick strides until he stands before you, towering over you with quickened breath. He doesn’t strike you, never has. But it is no less of a threat. A warning not to step out of line, a reminder of what your lies protect you from. 

A twitch in his expression, a glimpse of a snarl, before he warns, 

“Careful now.” 

“We both know there are things my mother won’t forgive,” You answer, “It is you who ought to be careful.” 

“She has approved of this union.” 

You doubt it. You want to doubt it, need to. It is one thing to try and link the warring branches of the House of the Dragon by joining Jacaerys, kind and gentle Jacaerys, and your sweet aunt Helaena. 

It is another to send her only daughter, her heir, to one of Alicent’s sons. 

Still, because some part of you, small and still in the carriage as it drives away from King’s Landing, grasping your mother’s hand in yours even as you curse her and her choices, cannot stand the thought of standing corrected, of being made to face that for the security of her claim Rhaenyra would give you away to a man on the far end of the Crownlands; you do not voice an argument, and instead clarify,  

“I was speaking of what you are threatening to do with your hands,” Daemon leans back with a thoughtful hm that does nothing to hide the way he still bristles at the faintest reminder of powerlessness. Careless, you push forward, insist, “Let us wait, let me stay, and…” 

“And what, hm? Let war come to us? Let those vipers continue to undermine your mother’s claim? Let them put Otto Hightower’s pawn on the throne our forebears forged?” 

You are shaking your head before he is even done speaking, and you can only offer a sigh as an answer, a plea as a retort, 

“Let me fight.” 

“You will fight as I see fit that you do,” He answers, simply, carelessly. “You will play your part, as is your privilege, your duty.” 

“If I had been a son, y-…” 

“I have had a lifetime of hearing your mother speak the same nonsense. I will not hear it,” Daemon interrupts, before leaning closer and reminding you, cruel, mocking, “You are not a son.” 

“I ride the second largest dragon in the world, I-…” 

“Then you should find it easy to tame a smaller one,” Daemon promises, not without cruelty. “We will depart in a month. The betrothal will be officially announced then, with us all in King’s Landing. Plenty of time to say your goodbyes.” 

“There have been…whispers of a royal event for months now. I didn’t know, I-…” 

“Did you think they were setting up a tourney for one of those shits? Or that my brother had somehow managed to sire another child?” 

You shake your head, but your heart races and your breath quickens, because how could you not see it before? 

You served your purpose, without faltering, without question. You amended the bonds your mother’s carelessness and her husband’s viciousness had broken, you strengthened the claim her mistakes had weakened, you lied and charmed to protect your brothers from the fate she imposed upon them. And now your use is through. 

The reward for your deference is a noose around your neck. 

“You had me travel the entire continent, entertaining countless proposals from the most insufferable of men and breaking bread with the most boring fucks alive, while you planned on giving me away.” 

“The tour was never meant to find you a husband, you knew that. A future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, birthing children for a…a…Tyrell? Or a Stark?” Daemon asks, as if the mere idea is unfeasible, ridiculous. “You are the blood of Old Valyria, and as wretched as that little cunt is, Aegon is my brother’s. A Targaryen.” 

You do not care for his tales of superiority, you do not care for those fantasies. Instead, you merely insist, “You plotted against me, while I was far from home.” 

“No. There is a plot, but it was not against you. If anything, this was done in your name, for your benefit,” He argues, pragmatically. Daemon leans closer, head bowed to meet your eyes. “Everything I’ve done has been to secure your claim, to ensure your ascension after your mother’s.” 

“To ensure your blood sits the Iron Throne.” 

He doesn’t deny it, and you don’t expect him to. The faintest of gestures of his head towards the door orders you to walk. You follow the unspoken command, for what else can you do but obey, and walk towards the door. 

“It is settled.” He calls out after you. At the absence of your answer, of your compliance, Daemon barks a call of your name. An order, a threat, even if it isn’t voiced as one, making you stop in your tracks. “You are a loyal daughter, and you know better than to forsake your duties to your mother. You won’t betray her.” 

“What you are asking of me is betrayal,” You argue, turning to look at him over your shoulder. “To marry our enemy, to lay with him, what is that if not a betrayal of my mother, of her claim?” 

“It is a sacrifice,” He corrects, but such appeasements, such manipulations, better suit Lady Mysaria. He has too much pride for the deceit to work, and so the lie stumbles in his tongue, rushing forward a truer sentence, “And I don’t ask.” 

___ 

Lady Mysaria finds you in the eastern balcony overlooking the sea, welcomes herself into the room and walks towards you, stopping only a few steps behind you She doesn’t announce herself nor ask for permission to speak, and you know better than to expect her to do either, after years of knowing her as your parents’ advisor. 

“I’m guessing you do not come here bearing good news.” 

“What would be good news to you, Princess?” 

“A freak dragon-riding accident leaving my future betrothed somewhere in the depths of the Narrow Sea?” You ask, rueful smile curving at your lips. 

“You speak as if you wouldn’t grieve for him.” 

“I would not grieve Aegon, or any of them, for I do not know the people they have become in these passing years.” 

“Is that why you ask my spies about him when they reveal themselves to you in your travels? To know the man he has become?” 

You sometimes wonder why you bother arguing with her. Not once have you been able to hold the upper hand for more than a breath. 

“I asked once.” 

You were wary, and far from home, and the flutter in your chest when Alasdair Tyrell laid a crown of Dragon’s breath on your lap -after his victory in the tourney organized to welcome you into the Reach- had felt familiar but wrong. Nostalgia and something else, something far more stupid, overwhelmed you, and you summoned one of Lady Mysaria’s spies, sent with you as a handmaiden, and asked her to tell you what she knew about how Aegon fared, who he had become in these passing years. 

You told yourself that while you knew better than to reach for a past and a bond long gone, neither could hurt you, so many years removed from the girl you were, so many miles away from what you once called home. And it didn’t, the past didn’t hurt you. What could have been did, however. 

“I will concede that you have learned to request information more subtly, but it does not mean you don’t ask, Princess.” 

“No, your spies offer information freely. Information I do not ask for,” You argue, but she breathes a short little laugh in response. It irks you, unsettles you, and you find yourself arguing further, explaining further, “I wanted to know if he was well, long ago, a-…” 

“And my spies told you he wasn’t.” 

“And so I never asked again.”

“It is a smart choice, to feign ignorance, but you should know better than to attempt to hide something from me.” 

“I have hidden nothing, for there is nothing to hide.” 

She hums lowly, considering her words with a sly smile on her lips. 

“You must refrain from defensiveness if you are to lie efficiently, Princess.” 

You grit your teeth but refuse her the satisfaction of knowing she prodded at a still-unarmored part of you. Instead, you bow your head as you did when you were barely five-and-ten and she had issued her first lesson on how to survive a world such as this. 

“Of course, Lady Mysaria.” 

“I would have expected you to be relieved, if nothing else, at the revelation of who you are to marry,” She muses. If she understands the threat written in your eyes when you turn to look at her, she cares not for it, and presses on, “You were quite close when you were younger.” 

“I was close to all of them.” 

“I mislike repeating myself. You cannot hide things from me, Princess.” 

You take a breath that feels a tad too shallow, you grit your teeth until you hold yourself under control, you hold your tongue until you’re certain it won’t betray anger, sorrow, something else. It feels invasive, unbearable, like fingers prodding at a well-hidden wound. 

“It was nothing. A passing infatuation of youth.” 

“Passing fancy,” She corrects. “The words the Queen used were passing fancy. If you are to shield yourself with the words of others, do so properly.” 

The troubling and annoying thing about sharing a home with someone that trades secrets is that none can be kept from her, and the frustrating thing about counting amongst those closest to you the person that taught you to lie and deceive is that you find it impossible to fool her. And with no secrets, with no lies, there is no fun in playing the game anymore. 

“What is it you mean to ask, Lady Mysaria?” 

“Aren’t you at the very least relieved? Contented?” 

You shake your head. 

“I do not know who Aegon is any longer. Who I-…” The revelation stumbles in your tongue, remains sealed past closed lips. The admission that you have forsaken yourself somewhere in the road to this day is something she might know already, but you refuse to admit aloud. “I have spent the last two years on lands foreign to me, many of them hostile to me. I am…I am wary, and I do not wish to do so again. I am tired of feeling…defenseless.” 

Mysaria lets silence linger for a few moments as you both watch your brothers’ dragons at flight in the skies above you. 

“You want war,” She states, “You deem fire and blood the only future in which you are safe.” 

It is a truly horrifying talent that she possesses, that uncanny ability of hers of digging under your skin until she finds the truer face out of all you wear and brings it to light in all its ugliness and its monstrousness. 

But perhaps that is why you can allow yourself to speak in honesty now, for the first time since you left Dragonstone for a royal tour, or perhaps for the first time since you left King’s Landing. 

“In war, me and my dragon are useful here, defending my claim. In war, I remain unbound, able to fight back,” You tell her, not caring about considering your words, about guarding your back. Turning your head to look at her, you argue, “In times of peace, I am sent away. Twice over, I have lost my home for the sake of peace.” 

“Hm,” Mysaria muses, and when she walks past you towards the balcony, you cannot help but follow. Your eyes seek the horizon, while the White Worm’s linger on Arrax and Vermax playing in the clouds above you. “You will not find yourself without allies, Princess. A spider can spin a web anywhere in the world, it needs only time.” 

“Speaking of time,” You start, straightening yourself and turning on your side to face her. You bow your head, in goodbye and in something else, something closer to gratitude than your hurt and your pride let you admit right now. “I fear our time together has come to a close.” 

“Your family isn’t leaving for King’s Landing for another two days.” She argues, but she knows, you are certain she does. It is no coincidence, that she has come to find you now, that she has come to say goodbye. 

Because honesty comes easy with her, you admit, “I dislike feeling like prey.” 

You could swear there is the beginning of a smile curving softly at her lips, but Mysaria merely bows her head and whispers a wish of, safe travels, Princess. 

___ 

Daemon approaches, you know him by the cadence of his footsteps by now, as you stand on one of the cliffs near the castle. He says nothing, joins you in watching as Vermithor stands before you, proud and stubborn, head held high despite your request that he bow it to allow you to climb onto his saddle. 

“Are you two having a fight?” 

“The old brat doesn’t want to leave the Dragonmont, and thinks we have a choice in the matter!” Your last words, hissed in Valyrian as you argue with the old dragon, make Daemon chuckle. “If I ask that Silverwing fly with us, y-…” 

“You know better than to ask that from us.” 

“He doesn’t want to leave her side. Vermithor, sweet thing, I feel for your broken heart, I truly do. But I won’t go by boat, much less carriage,” Vermithor answers with a huff of steam, and flaps his wings slightly, a warning that he will shake you off like he would a bothersome fly if you attempt to mount him regardless. You heave a sigh, “Stubborn fuck.” 

Vermithor understands the Common Tongue, you are certain he does, for he lowers his head for a moment as if to taunt you to try, and the call that echoes from deep in his chest truly sounds mocking. 

“It is your own restlessness, your own fear, that make him refuse you. You do not wish to leave, and so he doesn’t want to take you there.” 

“I did not want to visit half the places we did during my tour, and yet he took me anyways.” You argue, and though for a moment you think to ask him if he will try to stop you, you refrain.  

Daemon somehow knows that you have decided to take flight to King’s Landing tonight, and he has chosen not to stop you. Perhaps he understands the restlessness that has only grown in you since you were told of your betrothal, as perhaps that same restlessness consumed him once, when he was also young and sent off to marry for duty. 

“You weren’t afraid during your tour.” Daemon argues, but you shake your head. 

“Of course I was afraid. I did it anyways, because…because it was what you and mother demanded from me, but I was terrified,” You admit. Perhaps it is the darkness and quiet of a night in the vast openness of the Dragonmont, perhaps it is the defeat that clings to your very bones like the most bitter cold, but you do not care for lies, for masks, right now. “I haven’t stopped being afraid since we left King’s Landing.” 

Daemon turns to you, but you cannot look at him. You dread to look into your father’s eyes and see disappointment at your admission; you dread to see anger at your weakness. Most of all, however, you dread to see a shadow of regret, at what he’s done, at what he has failed to do. 

For it wouldn’t change a thing. You would still be sent off, you would still be given away, you would still be left with no control over any of this. 

At your silence, Daemon turns back to look upon the Bronze Fury. 

“And yet you do not want to return. And your dragon defies you because of it.” 

“He took me there once already, you know. A month or so before the tour began,” There’s a ghost of a smile playing at your lips as you share the memory. “It was…the worst storm I can remember, and he had us fly right through it. I cursed his name until I was hoarse and once it was over, I demanded he take me home at once. He took me to King’s Landing.”

"Did you land?"

"Of course not. It is hostile territory."

“It is your birthright,” Daemon promises. It used to feel liberating to hear him reaffirm your claim and your mother’s. Now it feels heavy. The weight of a crown you do not yet wear is entirely too great, and you bow your head. Daemon continues, “It was Vermithor who called to you, who allowed you to claim him. Vermithor, a dragon who only ever bonded with Kings.” 

“But I am no King,” You argue, returning your gaze to him. “For I am not a son.” 

Thank you for reading, i hoped you liked it! I would love to hear your thoughts on this!

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