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utterlyotterlyx · 3 months

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A Ballad of Storm and Shadow

Azriel x F!Reader

Part Two

Summary - Rhys had been content in taking the darkest secret of his family to the grave, but when the threat of Hybern increases, he has no choice but to send a message to another world and pray to the Mother that his call is answered.

Warnings - swearing, fluff, a little angst as always, mentions of blood, brother sister fluff 🥺

Part One

This is a crossover series, some aspects will differ from that in the books. Physical attributes are described in this fic, it is essential to the storyline of the character

There was only one singular thing that Rhys wanted more than to be able to spend a moment alone with his long-lost sister, telling tales and swapping stories of what the last 500 years had held for them, and that was to see Tamlin cower at her perfectly painted feet.

Though, Rhys was sure, like the other High Lords, that Tamlin would not be making an appearance, not after what Feyre had done to his court.

Aelin leaned to the side, her eyes not once moving from the reflective pool in the centre of the chamber as she whispered to y/n, causing the raven haired female to grin in response. It was clear that the two other-worldly women were putting the High Lords of Prythian on edge, if not for their damning beauty then because of the suffocating power that waltzed around them, dancing in a phantom wind and casting a faint shimmer over their forms.

Azriel didn't blame either of them for wrapping a shield around themselves, though, he did get the feeling that it wasn't they who had decided it, it seemed to be Rowan's doing. The fae prince's gaze sauntered across the room, not wanting to indulge in the idle chatter of lesser-than beings, he was assessing and probably imagining all the ways in which he could cut them down without even blinking.

The only sounds that filled the room were polite comments and the gossip from Vivane and Mor, catching up after 50 years apart. All Rhys wanted to do was lean over and ask his sister a million and one questions about her life, where she had been and what the other world was like, but, upon gazing upon her monotonous features, he decided against that impulse.

Instead, the High Lord of Night peered across the pool to find Eris Vanserra in complete awe of her, and if she had noticed his lingering gaze then she did well to not let onto it. Y/N had most likely already known that if she was raised in Prythian then it would have been him who would have been given her hand, their father had always wanted a way into the Autumn Court. Rhys was glad that she looked so alike to him, but he couldn't help but notice a certain darkness within her eyes, like a chilled breeze in the midst of winter, unwavering and fatal.

He had so many questions, so many things he needed to know.

A gentle loop of wind coursed through the open arches from the east, sifting through y/n's hair and cascading her scent straight into Azriel's lungs, so blissful that even his shadows swarmed around the speckles of air for a taste. He had been trying to pinpoint the individual aspects of her scent for the last ten minutes, desperate to etch it to memory, but that last fell sweep confirmed it.

Y/N smelt like the calm before the storm, when the earth hazed by swelter was damp and eagerly awaiting the roaring from the skies during its last moments of peace; there was a slight ashen note to it, like lightening kissed trees that were crackling after being torn apart by the storms fury, and then all of that was combined with with the heavenly aroma of fresh petrichor from newly bathed mountain springs.

He tried to tell himself that he was following each of her movements out of the desire to protect his home from a cunningly beautiful stranger, but he was lying to himself, so much so that his shadows swatted against his back sternly at the thought of her being anything remotely evil. Azriel couldn't take his eyes off of her, he noted every tick of her jaw when Beron would open his mouth and every furrow of her brow when someone would say something that intrigued her, and then there was a familiar softness that consumed her violet gaze whenever Rhys would taunt and prod those around him. Her eyes were laced with longing and pride, like she was only then realising everything she had missed from the moment she had been sent away.

Azriel was too keen not to notice the scar peeking from the bodice of her dress, though her hair did an exquisite job of hiding it, Azriel was placed in the perfect position to be able to count every scaled ridge. It extended from the tip of her pointed ear and slithered down her neck and shoulder before disappearing beneath the fabric of her dress, leaving Azriel to wonder two things, where the scar ended and what had happened to cause it. It was clear that they all had stories to tell, and Azriel was eager to know every snippet of hers.

"Forgive me for prying," Helion drawled, leaning forward in his seat and his lethally poised orbs staring directly at y/n, they trailed down her figure, from the ornate crust of jewels encapsulated around her head to the burgundy pumps on her feet, "But what exactly are you?"

The attention of the room shifted, the one thought on their minds having being thrust out into the open, and they all waited eagerly for her response. Y/N sighed and simply glanced to her right with a soft nod, bestowing a silent permission to her companion, Aelin, who grinned, knowing the floor was open for her, "Does the crown not do it for you? She's a queen."

"A queen?" Beron scoffed with a mixture of disbelief and amusement, his brown eyes wicked and untamed, he sneered at the jewels curling above her ears and asked, "Did it fall onto your head? How does a little girl like you get to call herself a queen?"

Rowan's jaw clenched, his top lip curling into a snarl, and he went to say something, to stand up for one of his two queens, but Aelin halted him with a firm hand on his forearm, "I killed my mother, not for the crown, but because-"

"She was an evil bitch?"

Y/N pointed to Aelin with her gaze stuck on Beron, unwavering, lethal, "That." Placing both hands flat against the arms of her chair, y/n rose from the seat, the sky darkening overhead and a violent gust soaring through the chamber, "I have not left my people to aid a continent that finds it acceptable to treat the only thing standing between them and certain death this way. I am over 500 years old, I'm not a little girl. I destroyed my mother and then eviscerated her body for extra measure, and if you think that I won't do the same to you then I would suggest thinking again. I am the daughter of one of the most powerful High Lords in your history, and I am also the daughter of a Valg queen whether I wish it or not. Choose your next words very carefully."

The air had grown heavy, swelteringly so, and the skies continued to darken with splotches of demonic grey; electricity surged through the space, causing the atoms to vibrate with tension. A faint rumble coursed in the distance, and sparks of blue lit up the skies which had once been a backdrop of serenity, even the ocean below could be heard crashing against the cliffside.

Despite his thunderous heartbeat, Beron couldn't allow his mask to shiver in response, no matter how much sweat had built up on his brow or cold had seeped into his bones. Before he could open his mouth and spurt another insult, two thick threads of lightening crashed through the dome of the chamber, landing on either side of him with a crack as they split open the stone under his feet. Thunder chuckled overhead, always thrilled to witness one of her spectacles.

Then, the darkness vanished, giving way to lazy beams of sun as she began her descent below the horizon, the air lightened and birdsong drifted through the room from the open arches. Still standing, y/n arched a brow and adorned a knowing smirk, knowing that a single effortless flash of her abilities had struck fear into every soul surrounding the reflective pool, "Next time, I'll let them devour you. My lightening enjoys the taste of snivelling old cunts."

I like her. Feyre's voice all but purred into Rhys' mind, her face was taut from attempting to hide her grin but it glowered in her eyes.

Hm. I don't think you're the only one. Rhys cocked his head to the side, causing Feyre to crane her neck to see Azriel staring down at her in total awe, though he wasn't even trying to conceal his smile, he let it shine for all to see.

Aelin looked practically giddy by the show, waiting for y/n to sit at her side once more before continuing on as if nothing had happened, "Carrying on," Aelin folded her hands over her stomach and leaned back, propping one of her legs up on the arm of her seat, "Y/N is the Queen of the Fae of Erilea," Aelin glanced to y/n with a level of adoration, "She gave up everything to aid us, there is no one I would rather rule beside than her," Rowan cleared his throat at the words, sending Aelin a deadpan and stern glare, "Oh, and birdboy over here."

"What a touching sentiment," the white haired warrior drawled, his eyes were laced with humour as he rolled them, his body language relaxing tenfold compared to when he had been assessing the males in the room earlier. Apparently he had deduced that none of them were a threat to him and his queens, not after y/n's recent display. "And," he looked to Beron whose orbs were trained on the steaming black cracks etched into the stone floor, "If you thought that was bad, then you should count yourself lucky that Aedion and Lorcan weren't here. Your head would be detached from your shoulders for that level of disrespect."

Aedion and Lorcan.

Rhys made a mental note to ask about them later, and why saying their names aloud made Rowan's smirk turn positively feline.

"Don't forget about Manon," Aelin sang, and Rowan chuckled darkly at the thought, making Azriel think that he never wanted to meet whoever Manon was.

Y/N dragged her fingers through the lengths of her hair and sniffed the air lightly, her ears pricking as though they could hear something approaching from the distance, and just as the doors swung open did her eyes dart to meet them.

Eyes connecting with those of the intruder, Y/N shivered at the tremors of magic that coursed through the room from the High Lords and their entourages throwing their shields up, and she noticed keenly how the shield around the Night Court in particular became reinforced with rage, even if Rhys' face didn't show it.

The male before her eyes was not considered an ally.

Dressed in a green tunic and smiling so broadly that she could see each of his gleaming white teeth, the male sauntered forward into the stilled room with eyes dancing between Rhys and Y/N, picking apart every similarity between them until the realisation swarmed him.

Thesan rose to his feet slowly, his Peregryns ready to put him down if needed, but he really hoped that it wouldn't come to that, "We were not expecting you, Tamlin," he extended a hand to his quivering aids and ordered, "Please bring the High Lord a chair."

Despite his flickering eyes and subdued smile, Tamlin mainly kept his gaze on Feyre, staring directly into her soul, and by the looks of him y/n could tell that he was lethal in his own right. Feyre shuffled under his gaze, a gaze that sought to control and demand her, and y/n would be damned if she allowed such a thing.

"I have to admit that I am surprised you came, Tamlin," Beron drawled, somewhat recovered from the display of anger directed at him only moments before, "Rumour suggests that your allegiance lies elsewhere these days."

Still, Tamlin's gaze did not leave Feyre, it only moved downward to the band circled on her finger and then trailed up to the tattoo flowing and ebbing against her hand, finally ending on the crown lay atop her head. He exhaled through his nose and waited for the aids to place his seat between Beron's sons and Helion's clan; he had come with no generals, no family, no friends, he was completely alone.

The male didn't utter a single word as he sat, the air was tight, but he moved his gaze at long last and rested it upon y/n, narrowing his green eyes at her and tilting his head slightly as if he was trying to place her in his mind. Helion waved his hand, cutting through the ripe tension, "Let's get on with it then."

It made Rhys feel uneasy, the way Tamlin was looking at his sister and the way in which she was staring back, almost taunting him with her orbs of violent delight. He wanted to reach into her mind and tell her to stop, but her walls were strong, almost impenetrable.

Thesan cleared his throat, eager to move the meeting along so that the time spend with Tamlin was as little as possible. No one looked toward the High Lord of Dawn, not even Tamlin as he moved his eye back to Rhys and Feyre, eyes simmering with a hatred that y/n had only ever seen within her mother. He opened his mouth, and Feyre visibly braced herself, "It seems as though congratulations are in order."

Silence.

Only Rhys held his stare, and deep down, y/n could feel his wrath bubbling inside of him like a hot spring, he looked to Thesan and said, "We can talk of this matter later."

"Don't stop on my account."

Rhys' grip tightened around Feyre's knee, "I'm not in the business of discussing our plans with enemies." His gaze floated to his sister who was still staring down Tamlin, hands coiled around the arms of her chair and eyes blazing with a fury he didn't know she too possessed.

"No," Tamlin matched Rhys' tone with a certain level of ease, "You're just in the business of fucking them."

The room stilled with rage, the entire entourage of the Night Court seethed in silence, waiting for a single nod from their High Lord to allow them to tear this nothing-man into pieces.

A single claw slid from his knuckles, and the world became muffled to y/n, she wasn't focusing on anything or anyone other than him, the one making a clear threat toward her brother and his mate, her sister by law. There was nothing more sacred. Then she fell back into the room just as Tamlin smirked and angled his head at Rhys, "When you fuck her, have you ever noticed that little noise she makes right before she climaxes?"

Heat stained Feyre's cheeks at the question, one that sought to discount everything that she was. Beron beamed, and Eris monitored the situation carefully from his seat, but then-

Silence. A gentle kiss of breeze.

Azriel glanced to his right, expecting to see y/n sat there with hate-filled eyes, but she was gone. A wet gurgling pulled his attention, he followed the noise and his eyes widened with delight.

Y/N had winnowed right into Tamlin's lap, her elongated talons piercing the skin of his neck causing blood to trail downward and pool at the collar of his tunic. Her other hand was furled into his hair, tugging his head back roughly so that his eyes met hers. One wrong move and Tamlin was done, and he knew it, the terror clear in his panicked eyes.

"If you ever speak of my sister-in-law, or any female, in such a manner again," she spoke lowly, dangerously, like poison on the tip of a blade, "It will be the last time you speak. Am I clear?" Her talons dug in deeper, the blood staining the rings littering her fingers.

Tamlin nodded shakily, gasping for air, and y/n only smirked down at him before retracting her talons from his flesh and bringing her index finger up to her lips, painting the bottom with his blood and humming, "For a male who acts so mighty, your fear tastes delicious," she ground down on his lap and called to her companions, "I think we have seen enough, don't you?"

Huffing, Rowan rose to his feet followed by Aelin, and the pair rounded the pool, Rowan extending a hand to y/n on the way and not even flinching when her bloodied fingers used him as leverage to slide from Tamlin's thighs. "Pathetic," he spat, bewildered at how their help had been wished for when they couldn't even play nice with one another. They all needed some lessons on how to get things done.

The trio sauntered from the chamber, but stopped in place when Thesan rose to his feet and called out to them, understanding that their aid meant the difference between peace or annihilation, "Please, wait." Thesan took three steps toward the trio whose combined power rippling around them was enough to make them see stars, "Stay the night at least, allow us to prove to you that we are worthy of saving."

Without looking back like Aelin and Rowan had, y/n nodded stiffly and only once before she rounded the doors, disappearing into the palace to presumably be shown to her rooms for the evening.

And, after a fair few snarky comments and displays of power, the meeting concluded, and Rhys was the first one rising from his seat and rounding the opened doors, following that mesmerising mountainous scent all the way through palace until he met a pair of tall golden doors that were littered with engravings of clouds and stars.

The rest of the Inner Circle eventually caught up with him, panting, and Cassian especially cursing the day Rhys was born for making him rush so much. Before Rhys could even raise a fist to the door, to reunite with his sister in the way that he had dreamed of for 500 years, it opened for him, and he found Aelin lazily draped against the frame looking to him with an arched brow; she peered behind him at the rest of his family and smiled, "Come on in."

Aelin stepped aside and ushered the group into the lavish suite they had been gifted, Thesan had really pulled out all of the wonders to make their stay as comfortable as possible. Soft white walls encircled the room that was adorned with pillars of solid gold and intricate artworks that littered the ceilings, wide open arches gave way to skies caressed with oncoming darkness, and in the centre was a seating area that rivalled that of the River House, long deep rooted chairs and frilled pillows, a square glass table at the centre and a fire raging on against the wall.

Upon one of the many seats, the Inner Circle found Rowan, feet propped up on the glass and head craned to meet them, "She'll be out in a minute," he drawled, "She's getting used to how large her bed is."

"I was washing the blood off my hands, thank you very much," y/n waltzed in from the open door on the left, wiping her cleared palms against the deep blue skirt of her dress, "You make me sound like such a princess."

Rowan rolled his eyes and dipped his head backward, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing, like her testing his patience was a common occurrence, "I would like to remind you that you were one. For 500 years. And I've known you for half of that time."

Y/N straightened and shrugged, "Fair enough," she turned on the balls of her bare feet to face Rhys and angled her head to the side, waving her gaze from his feet to his crown, "Who would have ever thought that we'd end up like this?"

A High Lord and Queen.

Rhys' smile widened as he beheld her, as they all did actually, the dark monster vanquished into a sea of light leaving behind something airy and fresh, "Certainly not me. I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

Her smile faltered, "Me neither," she took a step toward him, "You gave me quite a scare you know, with that message."

Rhys matched her step, "That was never my intention."

"I know," she loosened her shoulders, "We'll help, even if the other High Lords of this land don't know the meaning of decorum."

Adoration flashed in his eyes, "Thank you, for what you did in there for Feyre. It was-"

"Terrifying?" Y/N moved like the wind, approaching her brother and taking his hands in hers, "I'll do anything to protect family."

And the Inner Circle knew that the protection she spoke of also extended to them, to the found family Rhys had formed in her void.

Snapping back into reality, Rhys placed a tender kiss on her brow and then angled his body to allow his family a chance to really see her, "Y/N," he began, tugging her to the jumbled line his circle had formed, "You know Feyre, my High Lady and mate, and this her sister, Nesta," the pair smiled warmly at one another whilst Nesta watched on, unphased, "This is Amren, my second in command. Cassian, the general of my armies. Mor, your cousin," Mor beamed at the sentiment, she was astounded to be related to someone so incredibly powerful and beautiful, "And then this is-"

"Azriel," the Shadowsinger interrupted, taking a single step forward causing y/n to crane her neck to get a better look at him.

Tendrils of darkness poked over his shoulders and combed through her hair, placing delicate kisses against her cheeks whilst she drank him in. Azriel was beautiful, dark hair and brooding hazel orbs, tattoos that crept up his arms and peered out of the collar of his second skin, a perfectly sloped nose and full lips, and a jaw so sharp she felt as though if she reached out to touch it then her fingers would return to her sliced.

"Azriel," the faint whisper sounded like a sonnet to his ears, and her offered a small smile, and she returned it instantly, unable to tear her eyes away from his until Cassian cut through the moment.

"Hate to break up whatever this is," he spoke with a wink in Azriel's direction who contained his growl to silence, "But we have to know everything about you. It's not every day that your best friend forgets to tell you that he has a sister in another world."

Shaking her head with a slight blush creeping up her cheeks, y/n motioned to the seating area, moving from Azriel and leaving his shadows pining after her to find a space in the centre of one of the four plush benches, "Sit. I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Azriel moved first, wasting no time in taking the seat to her left whilst Rhys took the space to her right, the rest of the inner circle filled the other vacancies, Cassian puffing out his chest when he fell beside Rowan, the latter of who just grinned at the action, and Nesta partly cowering away from Aelin who watched her with a raised brow.

"How old are you?" Mor asked with a voice of wonder, she should have been angry at Rhys the moment she found out that she had another cousin that had been hidden from her, but for some reason she wasn't.

Y/N glanced to Rhys, "I'm 508, give or take a couple of years."

"So you were banished when you were a baby?"

"Yes. I hadn't even reached my second year, " y/n smiled sadly, "The Sidra flooded the city when I was born, our father said that an uncontrollable storm raged on for two weeks afterward. It was clear that I had a power that couldn't be tamed here, so I was sent to my mother in Doranelle, and she raised me."

"I remember that storm," Mor spoke faintly, brow furrowed as she recounted the night when the lightening cracked over the Court of Nightmares, causing the entire city to seek refuge indoors for four whole days and nights, "I didn't realise that it was you."

"Yes, well," y/n trailed, "It's not everyday a High Lord fucks a Valg queen but here we are."

Feyre suppressed a chuckle at y/n's tone, one that was light and attempting to find the silver lining of it all.

Rhys lay a sturdy hand on her knee and pulled her attention to him, unspoken words of an eon drifted between them, "If it's any consolation, I think that father sent you away because he knew that you were meant to be more than a High Lord's trophy wife. Males would wage wars to control a power like yours."

Feyre spoke next, asking, "What is it that you can do?"

Laying her palm open toward the ceiling, the room watched intently as blue sparks of lightening coursed over her fingertips and curled around her wrists, "I can mostly control the weather, storms to be exact, and water also answers my call."

"Tell them the truth, y/n," Aelin teased, "Stop trying to lessen your worth," she told y/n sternly, holding her gaze and sighing when she didn't elaborate, "She decimated an entire army with that power to save me, and the entire world. It nearly killed her. Erilea owes her a great debt. That's why she is queen, not because of her birth right, but because she sacrificed herself to make the world a better place."

"So, you control storms, huh?" Cassian cut through the pause, threading his fingers behind his head and leaning back into the seat, his face a mixture of impress and challenge.

Y/N raised a goblet to her lips, causing Azriel to wonder where exactly she had gotten it from, and drank slowly, "There's a reason that storms are named after women."

"Can you fight?" Mor asked, eager to know if she could train with her cousin, wanting to spend as much time with her as possible with the time they had together.

Rowan huffed and then frowned when Aelin dug her elbow into his ribs, but it didn't hurt him, not one bit. "You can thank me for that."

"He trained you?" Cassian asked with disbelief, his shoulders squaring and eyes narrowing at the white haired fae prince.

"I can show you if you'd like?" Y/N smirked through her lashes, eyes swimming with unmatched mischief as Cassian turned to her and grinned, thinking it would be an easy win for him. "If you're up to the challenge?"

"I would be honoured to show you how us Illyrians fight. Maybe you'll learn a thing or two." Cassian wriggled his brows at y/n but he failed to notice the glance she sent to Rowan who was rolling his eyes in her direction, and something told Azriel that Cassian would be eating those words once the morning came to pass.

Author's Note

Part 2 is here my lovelies!

As always let me know what you think!

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kingkunigami · 8 months

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— hate you

You hate Oliver Aiku more than anything, if only he’d believe you.

Of course Oliver Aiku would be the first and only man to have me use the word ‘cunny’, but that’s the reason why we hate him right? Right—

Pairing: Aiku Oliver x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, hate sex, Oliver uses the word ‘cunny’ once, semi-public sex, dirty talk, no prep, creampie (reader tells him not to cum inside but he’s a prick).

Word Count: 2k.

You hate Oliver Aiku. Loathe him entirely. It’s as though this man exists to make your life miserable— and to destroy the battery in your vibrator, not that he ever needs to know that.

“Do you even know what the offside rule is, sweetheart?” He practically spat, his large form towering over you as he looked to intimidate you.

But it would never work. You were used to the same chauvenistic bullshit time and time again, by men who were far more powerful than Oliver Aiku. Remaining strong as you kept the flag high in the air and stood your ground, maintaining your verdict that the footballer was offside.

“I wouldn’t want a refresher from someone that doesn’t know what it is either.” You quipped coolly, watching his brows furrow as he kicked the ball towards Isagi in irritation.

And you tell yourself that the only reason why you’ve attended this stupid party in the first place was to annoy the centre back, and remind him that there’s no one else you hate more than him.

“Can you two just fuck already?” Chris Prince nudged your shoulder as he caught you looking across the room at Oliver, “You’re putting me off my pint.”

“I’d rather die.” You scoffed, chugging the rest of your drink before making your way towards the bathroom.

There’s no way you’d ever want to fuck a man like Oliver Aiku. He’s a misogynistic jerk that doesn’t deserve an ounce of your time, and you’ll spend the rest of your days reminding him of the fact. Worth nothing more than masturbation material as you rub your clit raw to try and get a quick release, replaying your sordid fantasies in your mind while you lay awake at night.

Or at least that’s what you try to convince yourself, as you now find yourself pressed against the bathroom wall by one extremely arrogant looking Oliver Aiku.

“I feel like you’ve been avoiding me all night, babygirl.” He teases, closing the door behind him.

“Don’t call me that,” You glower, but the cocky lilt to his voice had your clit betraying you. Stowing the sound of it away in the sordid core of your brain for later when you’d settle in bed with your trusty toy.

“Aww, don’t be like that,” He coos, placing his cup down on the corner of the bathroom sink as he corners you.

“I hate you,” The words are laced with venom as he cages you against the wall. The downstairs bathroom holds barely enough space for one person, nevermind Oliver’s hulking form. His broad shoulders box you in, and if you wanted to escape there would be nowhere to go— at least that’s what you tell yourself as you lean into his touch.

His lips ghost yours, and you can feel the warmth of him laced with a mixture of beer and far too much cologne. It leaves you feeling dizzy and disorientated as he invades your space. His palm circles your neck as he tilts your chin with his thumb, pressing the faintest butterfly kiss against your glossy lips as he gives you a chance to pull away. And you should, because you fucking hate him, right? But you don’t.

Oliver is ravenous as he captures your lips in a fierce kiss, his grip against you firm as he holds you in place. It’s difficult to think as he swipes his tongue against your parted lips, trying to delve deeper as he searches for entrance. Lashing against your teeth as you let him in, swallowing the groan that forms in your throat as he deepens the kiss.

Your legs feel like jelly as your thankful for his frame keeping you upright, your hands fist into the cotton of his shirt as you pull him closer. Your nose knocks against his clumsily as you feel him palm your clothed breast, slotting his thigh between your legs as he presses himself against your core.

You can’t help yourself— can’t stop your hips from jerking as you grind yourself against pure muscle, desperate to give some needed stimulation to your throbbing cunt. You can feel Oliver’s grin against your mouth as you pull away, licking his lips childishly to taste the saccharine of your gloss against his tongue. The messy pink hue tints his skin as he shamelessly slips his hands beneath your skirt to pull your soaked panties down.

You should tell him off when he pockets them without question, chastise him for being such an asshole. But the thoughts fall on deaf ears the moment his slender fingers brush through your messy folds.

“I hate you,” You repeat, although the venom has virtually disappeared to be replaced by the desperate sigh that escapes past your lips.

“Sure feels like you fucking hate me, sweetheart.” He groans, shamelessly prodding at your tight hole as it pulses in response, inviting him in like a tempting siren ushering a sailor to his death. Dragging the moisture from your weeping hole to press it against your puffy clit, stealing more pretty sounds from your throat.

“I do.” The words leave your lips as though you’re trying to convince yourself of a truth to them, sounding them against your tongue before licking your glossed lips.

He’s quick to undo his buckle, letting it hang in the loops of his jeans as he tugs them down enough to free his thick cock. It’s clear Oliver is unconcerned about foreplay, another reason why you should hate him more. But he has the decency to drag the leaking swollen tip of himself through the mess between your thighs before he presses himself against your tight entrance. Calloused fingers dig into the plush of your leg with even more urgency as he pulls your thigh higher against his hip.

“Yeah, yeah,” He gives a harsh rut of his hips that has your thick lashes fluttering as your nails dig into broad sboulders, “Can you feel how much I hate you too?”

He’s so deep inside you that you’re certain you can feel his cock pulse in your throat, the swollen tip angled perfectly to hit your g-spot with every messy thrust. Oliver gives another rough thrust to emphasise the statement, pushing you harder against the wall as you knock your head against the cool porcelain tile.

“You’re disgusting.” You groan, your chest heaves as he pulls your top down. Exposing your round breasts to his greedy eyes as he pinches a taut nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger as you tremble against him.

“I know,” He sniggers, “That’s why you’re soaking my cock right now.”

“Fuck you,” The words leave your lips like an insult, but your body betrays your repulsion.

“At least your pussy’s fucking honest,” He continues, his grip almost bruising against your skin as he starts a brutal place, “Feel her sucking me in.”

It’s hard to focus with the way he uses you, messy stubble scratches against the column of your neck as he peppers searing hot kisses against your skin. Your hands reach the base of his skull, nails scratch against his scalp as you try to find purchase. To find some semblance of reality as the man you’re so certain you despise splits you apart on his cock.

“Oh, baby. You’ve got the sweetest little cunny.”

“Shut the fuck up,” You feel yourself blanch at the childish word, the humiliation swirls in your pelvis as you scrunch your nose in disgust, “Don’t call it that.”

“Oh?” You can hear the mirth on the tip of his tongue as he noses the side of your face, lips pressed against the shell of your ear, “You’d prefer if I called her my perfect little cunt instead?”

The crude spit of the word has your walls clenching around him. A pitiful, carnal response to his words as his lips curl into a smug grin. Oliver laughs and you hate him even more, the desire to push him off you and leave him drooling with your slick to wipe that stupid smirk of his face is strong. But the desire to cum is stronger.

“She’s not yours,” You snarl, your nails practically dig into his skin now, leaving long red lines down the expanse of his back even through the thin cotton of his shirt.

“She isn’t?” He tilts his head to the side with fake perplexity, “Is that why she’s fucked into the shape of my cock?”

You hate his stupid dirty talk, or the pathetic attempt of it. But your body betrays your consciousness, drooling down the length of him as you leave creamy rings of slick around the base. Oliver wonders what you’d think if you knew he wasn’t going to shower tonight, content to fist himself again to the memory— with his cock still covered in a thick layer of you.

“It’s like she knows who she belongs to—” You dont know whether he’s talking to you or your cunt now, as he reaches between your bodies to thumb at your swollen clit. Rubbing messy figures of eight against it as your hips buck into him, trying to match his thrusts as you feel the coil onside you tighten.

“Yeah, not to you—“ Your retorts are just as pathetic as you are now, barely able to form a coherent response as you’re focused on the way Oliver manages to hit that same spot inside with precision. The engorged tip bruising your cervix with each roll of his hips, intent on leaving you with a buoyant throb between your thighs the next morning. A reminder of just how well he fucked you—

“Let’s ask her, shall we?” He sneers, pressing his lips against yours in a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. Smearing what little is left of your sparkly lipgloss against his lips and your cheeks, “If you love my cock cum for me, sweetheart.”

You clench in disdain, refusing to submit to a man— no less Oliver Aiku. But he feels the way you squeeze him, the way you try to fight back and he refuses to lose to you now. Increasing his pace as his balls slap against the swell of your ass, the crude sound mixes with the squelch of your cunt as he pushes you towards the brink. Challenging you to hold back, to deny your pleasure.

“I know you want to,” He continues, “I can feel you squeezin’ my cock.”

And he’s right, you hate how right he is. Your toes curl in your shoes as your eyes roll back into your skull, finally succumbing to the pleasure flowing through your veins as a pathetic whine of his name spills from your lips.

“Oh you good fuckin’ girl,” He gloats, cherishing the way your cunt throbs around him. Continuing to use your body for his own pleasure as he pounds into your convulsing heat.

Your cunt continues to clench around Oliver’s cock, trying to milk him of his release as your head lulls back against the porcelain tile. His palm reaches up to hold the back of it, and normally you’d shout at him for touching you when his fingers are covered in your slick. But it’s uncharacteristically caring as he stops your skull from banging against the wall as he uses you for his own pleasure, shamelessly seeking out his release as he fucks into your quivering hole.

“Not inside,” You whine, staring at him through half lidded eyes as he pouts pathetically.

“But she wants it,” He chimes between sloppy thrusts, “She wants me to fill her up— oh, fuck.”

The way your walls pulse around him in response is all it takes to have him tumbling over the edge into his own pleasure, his forehead pressed against yours as he empties his balls inside your silky walls. Lining them with white hot spurs of his release as he gives a few more sloppy thrusts, fucking the mixture deeper inside you as he rides out his high.

“You’re such an asshole,” You groan as he pulls out of your abused hole, feeling his spend leak out of you as it drools down your inner thighs.

“Would an asshole have you this wet, sweetheart?” And you can already feel your cunt throbbing at the sight of his softening cock glistening under the fluorescent light.

“That isn’t me,” You sneer, but Oliver unabashedly holds himself up so you can see the creamy slick pool around his sac.

“You keep telling yourself that,” He grins, “And I’ll keep believing it.”

#blue lock x reader #oliver aiku x reader #Oliver aiku smut #blue lock smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut #aiku oliver x reader #aiku Oliver smut #blue lock x you

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vbecker10 · 3 months

Note

I have a request if you're not too busy

So the reader is the lead singer of a hex girls tribute band and Tony hires them for a Halloween party. While singing the song "cast a spell on you" she catches the attention of Loki, Who is very captivated with this so-called witch.

I love your work and oftentimes feel spoiled with how many fix you produce 🖤💙💚💜

Loki's Little Witch

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: You are the lead singer of the band hired to play at the Avengers Halloween party. You quickly catch Loki's attention and for the first time, he decides to stay until the end of the party.

A/N: @crimson25 I absolutely love this request! Thank you so much for sending it! I hope you like it 💚💚

"How are things going?", Tony Stark's voice interrupts your thoughts while you set up your microphone stand.

"Mr. Stark," you turn to see him dressed as Beetlejuice. "It's going really well. We're almost done setting up."

"Good to hear, the guests should be arriving in about fifteen minutes," he reminds you as Pepper walks over to him, wearing a red wedding dress.

"We are definitely going to be done with all of this before then," you confirm and he gives you a thumbs up. You look at your band mates then back at Tony, "Mr. Stark, we just wanted to thank you again for this opportunity. This is the largest event we've ever played at."

Pepper laughs while adjusting his tie and says, "I think Tony might be more excited than you are."

"I can't help it, I love the Hex Girls," he explains. "When I stumbled across your tribute page, I knew I needed to book you for this party."

True to your word, your band has finished setting up a few minutes before the doors open. The large room seems to fill up almost immediately but instead of being nervous, you couldn't be more ready. You introduce yourself and your band to the crowd and begin the first song.

You dance across the largest stage you've ever been on, matching the rhythm of the song as you sing the opening lyrics. Looking out into the crowd, you fill with pride when most of the guests begin dancing or signing along. This isn't just any crowd, you realize as you quickly recognize most of the guests despite their expensive and well crafted costumes. There are the Avengers, of course, but also some incredibly well known actors and even a few musicians you idolize. Your heart races with excitement but you know you need to pace yourself, it is still only the first song of the night.

Midway through the second song, your attention is pulled from the middle of the crowd to the rear doors when they open suddenly. Thor walks in, turning more than a few heads. The God of Thunder is dressed as a viking, complete with his golden hair in long braids and a fur lined cape. You continue to sing but are unsure if that should be allowed to count as a costume. Then you notice Thor is physically dragging someone with him as he walks through the guests.

You can't help but smile as you sing, seeing his large hand wrapped around his younger brother's bicep. The raven haired prince walks with his head down next to his older brother, leaving no doubt that he has no desire to be here tonight.

The God of Mischief is the only guest not in costume this evening. Even you and your friends in the band dressed up for the night. You had chosen a black dress with a short witches hat and black lipstick, deciding to lean into the witch look a bit more than usual since this is such a large party. You can't decide if Loki not dressing up is his silent protest against coming or because he simply knew the suit he wore looked stunning on him. He is wearing a perfectly fitted three piece, black suit with a matching black dress shirt and tie.

You continue to sing and dance across the stage but your eyes follow the two Asgardians. They make their way to the bar but as soon as their drinks arrive, Thor spots Jane and abandons his sibling without a moment's hesitation. Loki shakes his head as he takes a seat and clears away some of the Halloween themed glitter around his drink.

You watch him sigh then conjure a thick leather bound book to read and decide your goal for the night is to make sure he enjoys the party. The third song begins and you smile, knowing it is the perfect song to get the attention of someone with magic.

I'm gonna cast a spell on you.

He turns on his stool as you start your favorite song in the lineup and your eyes met briefly.

You're gonna do what I want you to.

Mix it up here in my little bowl,

say a few words and you lose control.

You sing to the crowd dancing in front of you.

I'm a Hex Girl

and I'm gonna put a spell on you.

You point out towards a random guest.

I'm gonna put a spell on you.

You point to another person and smile as you sing loudly.

I'm a Hex Girl

and I'm gonna put a spell on you.

You look towards Loki who is still watching you while you sing, putting down his wine slowly on the bar. You try not to blush at his intense eye contact, a smirk on his lips. His book vanishes as his attention is solely on you.

Put a spell on you!

You point at Loki and wink with a smile. You can't help but continue to keep your eyes fixed on the handsome prince, as if you are singing just for him now.

You'll feel the fog

as I cloud your mind.

You'll get dizzy

when I make a sign.

You'll wake up in the dead of night,

missing me when I'm out of sight.

His fingers run up and down the stem of his wine glass but his eyes never leave yours.

I'm a Hex Girl

and I'm gonna put a spell on you.

You turn from Loki and continue to dance to the other side of the stage.

I'm gonna put a spell on you.

I'm a Hex Girl

and I'm gonna put a spell on you.

Oh yeah!

You turn again towards the bar and he takes a sip of his wine but his eyes find yours immediately. You sing directly to Loki once again.

With this little cobweb potion,

you'll fall into dark devotion.

If you ever lose affection,

I can change your whole direction.

You break eye contact with the God of Mischief and dance back to the center of the stage. You wave towards the crowd and hold your mic out to them. They all join in, singing the finally chorus except for Loki who watches you intently with a smirk on his lips.

I'm a Hex Girl

and I'm gonna put a spell on you.

I'm gonna put a spell on you.

I'm a Hex Girl

and I'm gonna put a spell on you.

We're gonna put a spell on all of you!

The song ends and everyone cheers wildly. Loki claps from his seat, looking as regal as the prince he truly is. He takes a sip of his wine, still watching you as you begin the next song.

After your seventh song, you announce that your band will be taking a brief break. You turn on the DJ program and hop off the stage, almost immediately walking into Loki's chest.

"Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Laufeyson," you look up at him, feeling a wave of nervous excitement.

"Loki, please," he smiles charmingly. "And what is your name, little witch?"

"Y/N," you tell him, a giggle escapes you when he takes your hand and kisses the back of it lightly.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Y/N," he says, not releasing your hand, his thumb runs across your knuckles. "Would you care for a drink?"

You look back towards the stage but your friends have all vanished into the party for your fifteen minute break. You smile back at him, "I'd love a drink."

"Lovely," he says and you blush when his eyes travel up and down your body quickly. He places your hand on his forearm and leads you through the crowd to the bar. Loki pulls out a stool and holds the low back of it still as you take a seat then he sits next to you. The bartender asks you what you would like and Loki orders himself another glass of wine.

"So, are you enjoying the party?" you ask, taking a sip of your drink as you try to hide how excited you are to be this close to him. You had been watching him nearly as closely as he had been watching you, hopeful your paths would cross before the night was over. Your knee brushes against his when you move to face him but neither of you shift away from the contact.

"I am now," he smirks as he leans closer to you so you can hear him better over the loud party. He ignores his drink, his blue eyes focused on yours and you place your drink on the bar near his. "But I believe that may only be because a beautiful witch has cast a spell on me," his fingers gently cover your hand which is resting on your knee.

You blush and bite your lip, "I didn't think a human could bewitch the God of Mischief."

He strokes your cheek slowly with his other hand, "But you are no mere mortal, surely you must be a goddess."

You giggle at the thought of Loki referring to you as a goddess but before you can respond you feel someone's hand on your shoulder. You turn to see who is interrupting your conversation, unable to hide your annoyed expression.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Y/N," your drummer, Rosalie, smiles apologetically, "but Mr. Stark wants us back on stage since they are bobbing for apples now. I didn't know people actually did that."

"Okay, thanks," you tell her and she walks away, presumably to find your other band mates. You look back at Loki who's smile has faded, he removes his hand from yours and sits back. "I'm sorry, I wish I had a bit longer," you tell him honestly.

He nods, forcing a smile, "As do I."

"I really hope you enjoy the rest of the party," you say then you get up and walk back towards the stage. You worry he will leave the moment you are away from him and if he does, you doubt you will ever see him again.

Suddenly, you get an idea and walk quickly back to the bar. "Excuse me," you get the bartenders attention and ask him for a favor.

Loki watches you curiously but his smile returns when you walk towards him again. You fold the napkin in half and place it into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. Reaching up, you kiss his cheek softly so as not to leave a lipstick mark and say, "That's just in case you decide not to stay until the party is over but I hope you don't leave quite yet."

Loki unfolds the napkin as soon as you are back on stage and chuckles when he sees your phone number and a black lipstick kiss. He folds it again and tucks it back into his pocket for safe keeping. The decision is easy, it only takes seconds for him to know this will be the first of Stark's parties where he remains until the end.

You watch Loki get up from the bar and your heart sinks as you fear he is leaving. You continue to sing as your eyes follow the prince but you smile when you realize he is on the hunt for food. Hopefully that means he has decided to stay, you think.

Loki leans against a wall, away from the other guests, holding a plate of food as he watches you perform. Two songs later, he has gotten rid of his plate but he remains in the far off corner, smiling to himself as he listens to you. His arms are folded across his chest and he nods his head slightly with the music although you doubt the Asgardian has ever heard any of these songs before.

You start the next song and turn to share the mic with your base player for the opening lyrics. When you turn back around, your heart jumps into your throat and you nearly miss the next line. A woman in a tight and very revealing blue dress is standing with Loki, her hand resting on his arm. He bends a bit while she whispers something in his ear.

You try to push down the wave of jealousy that suddenly fills your body and force yourself to keep singing. He isn't yours of course, you remind yourself. You have barely spoken but you would feel devastated if you had to watch the handsome prince dance with another woman.

Loki looks down at the woman's hand and you wish desperately you could hear what he is saying to her. A smile spreads across your lips when he pulls his arm free from her grasp. You continue to sing loudly, his eyes find yours again and he smiles in spite of how unhappy the woman next to him appears. She takes a step towards Loki again but he folds his arms over his chest and leans on the wall as he had before she approached him. His eyes remain focused on you and he ignores her final attempt to get him to dance.

The only woman the God of Mischief is interested in tonight, is you, his little witch.

The main lights come on just after midnight and the party finally comes to an end. The guests wander out of the large room but you hope one particular god doesn't leave. You and your band mates begin the long process of disassembling and packing all of your equipment.

"Excuse me ladies. Would it be possible for me to borrow Y/N for a few moments?" Loki says from behind you.

Ember, your bassist, looks around at all of the equipment and in a mocking tone says, "We need to put all of this away first, your highness." She bows dramatically and you roll your eyes although you are less than surprised by her attitude.

You laugh and blush horribly when you realize your friends have noticed Loki's attention has been on you since he arrived at the party. You hop off the stage and turn to look at them, "I'll be back in five."

"Shut up," Rosalie throws a drumstick at her with absolute precision. "He's been eye fucking her all night. Give the woman ten minutes."

"Take your time," Maya, your guitarist yells over her shoulder. "You're useless at winding these cords the right way anyways."

Loki takes your hand and leads you into the now empty hallway. You are unsure where he is taking you and before you can ask he stops suddenly and turns towards you. He releases your hand, gripping your hip instead and backs you against the wall. You giggle nervously when he takes a step forward, his body pressed flush against yours.

"You were extraordinary tonight, my little witch," Loki smiles down at you.

"Thanks," you bite your lip when his eyes drop to your lips briefly. "I wasn't sure you would like the songs. I imagine this isn't the kind of music a prince of Asgard would typically listen to."

He shakes his head, "It is not but you are an exquisite singer."

A blush creeps up your cheeks and you are unsure if it is his complements or how close he is to you. He strokes your cheek slowly and your hands move to his lower back. His fingers run down your cheek and hook under your chin, tilting your head so your eyes are locked on his. He leans down slowly, his lips only inches from yours and he smirks, waiting for you to move next.

You bring one of your hands to the back of his neck, gripping the fabric of his jacket with your other hand. Pulling him towards you, you reach up and kiss him slowly at first but quickly Loki deepens the kiss. His grip on your hip tightens and your fingers move from the back of his neck into his long, black curls. He lips travel to your neck and you moan his name softly when he bites your skin gently.

"Hmm," Loki hums against your neck then he lifts his head to look at you. "You have the most enchanting voice, my little witch, and I plan on finding out what other sounds you can make tonight." He winks at you and you giggle, "But I will need much longer than ten minutes."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom · 6 months

Text

'Fake' Feelings

Zuko x Reader

Summary- In a pinch, you have to pretend to be in a relationship with Zuko. Little do you know it was never pretend for Zuko.

A/N- HAPPY BIRTHDAY @thethreeeyed-raven!!!!! This isn't my typical fandom as y'all know. I wrote this as a birthday gift to my best best best online friend. SHE'S AWESOME. Go check her fics out <3<3! CONTAINS A SINGLE BAD WORD >:)

Word Count- 2,468

"Mai, I already told you. I can't be with you!" Zuko was getting frustrated. While he did love Mai at one point, that was a long time ago. Zuko was now the Fire Lord, their relationship seemed like ages ago.

"And why not Zuko? We've been through this a hundred times. You always come running back, you're so pathetic. May as well cut the middle part and we can act like nothing happened." She stepped closer, pressing herself on his arm. "Like we always do..."

Zuko had finally realized how Mai controlled him. When he was weaker he was naive, now he knew what he wanted. Someone who never put him down, someone who never called him 'Pathetic.'

You.

He immediately thought of you. How you were so strong, but never put others down to feel powerful. How you always spoke your mind, but only out of the kindness you hid deep down.

Your walls were built up so high, but he knew who you were. He knew how beautiful you were.

"I can't be with you because I'm dating someone else." The words left his mouth faster than he could think.

This stopped Mai in her tracks. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, you're not the only one I am allowed to go out with. We've been broken up for awhile now." Zuko was no longer on the defense, but the attack.

"You do know that I am the only one who could love you. Who could love a traitor, a banished prince. Who else, huh?" Her arms were crossed, a smirk on her face. She knew she outwitted him.

Releasing his bit lip, Zuko exclaims your name.

Her face dropped. She knew exactly who you were. She was furious.

"We'll see about that..." With that, she left the room.

You were on your way to visit Zuko, one of your closest friends, for a 'friend reunion' Sokka had planned. You were of course excited to see him after so long. Though, the ride on Appa was miserable. About a hundred "are we there yet"s and "I'm hungry"s from Sokka.

The five of you- Sokka, Toph, Katara, and Aang made it safely to The Fire Nation shortly.

Upon landing, a man in red robes greeted everyone.

"The Fire Lord sends his deepest regards, as he could not see to you himself. You are instructed to follow me to your rooms." He had a stoic expression, but you guessed he greeted people all the time.

Oh well, Zuko must be very busy as a Fire Lord. You were sad, but couldn't blame him.

What you didn't know was that Zuko was pacing his room, definitely not busy. In reality, he cleared his schedule as much as possible for the week you were all visiting.

How was he going to tell you? He was deeply embarrassed, not to mention Mai might try and pull something with you. He knew not to underestimate her.

The thought of her trying to hurt you was enough to rack up the nerve to confess. He just needed a moment alone with you.

A grand dinner was prepared for the Avatars arrival, the rest of you reaped the rewards of being his friends.

"This is SOO good!" Sokka exclaimed, "Zuko sure has a way with food....." He slammed a fist on the table, before quickly lifting more food to his mouth,

"Sokka, you know he has chefs who make the food, right? Please tell me you know that..." You deadpanned, looking at him.

"Uh... Yeah! Yeah, definitely...." He looked down, that was until a new voice appeared.

"Sokka, did you really think I cooked all this?" Zuko walked to the seat at the head of the table. You noticed you were sat to his right.

It was a Fire Nation tradition that the Lady of the house would sit to the right of the Lord... You brushed the thought off quickly, writing it all off as a coincidence.

"W-well I don't know! You've been working ALL DAY!" Sokka squawked.

The dinner went on smoothly, well as smoothly a dinner can go with this group. You could feel the servants and servers rolling their eyes at all the unprofessional comments, jokes, and laughter.

You didn't care, you were just happy Zuko was able to be himself.

Hours later, when everyone was worn out and had their stomachs filled, they started to head to bed.

You were one of the last to leave, having been helping tidy up as much as you could.

You thanked and farewelled the servers, trying your best to remember where your room was.

The Palace was much bigger than you remembered. The halls upon halls blurred together. You were soon lost.

Every direction you turned looked the same, you started to breathe heavy.

You could already see it, 'cause of death, starvation in the Fire Nation Palace.' Or maybe dehydration would take you quicker?

A man passed by, you were saved! Though, the closer you got the bigger his scowl grew.

"Excuse me, I think I'm lost. Can you help me?" You were nervous asking, it was so 'common' for someone to get lost in a palace. You were sure your cheeks were red.

His face was dark, his eyes covered by his demeanor. For some reason he seemed annoyed at you.

"Sir?"

A hand rested on your shoulder from behind. It started you, putting you into a 'fight mode.'

Turning around swiftly calmed your nerves as quickly as they came. It was Zuko.

"Can I help you?" Zuko was talking to the strange man, who was no longer so 'big and bad.'

"No Fire Lord Zuko, my apologies." He barred his head in a bow and left.

You had a small smile on your lips, "Thanks, he was starting to scare me." While you were positive you could have taken the man, you were tired and didn't really feel like fighting.

"Of course, I can show you to your room." He held his arm out, you took it.

The gesture was friendly, you told yourself. Nothing more.

You must have been lost for awhile, as it took a few minutes to get to your room. The small talk exchanged was nice, but something told you Zuko was hiding something.

At your door, he stopped. "Zuko, do you want to come in? You seem restless."

"Actually, I do have something to tell you..." The tone of his voice scared you.

"Oh, then please sit." He joined you on the edge of your end. The door shut behind you two.

You pushed a strand of hair back, nervously sitting. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not really sure how to tell you this... I really am ashamed to have to ask you for a really big favor..." You had seen him on edge a lot, he was quite the stressor. Nothing like this, though.

"Zuko, anything. What do you need me to do?" You questioned.

He looked down at his hands, "You can tell me. I'm in no position to judge you, you know that."

"I uh," He rubbed the back of his neck, "I told Mai that we were dating so she would stop trying to get with me." He spit out so fast you almost missed what he said.

"Oh."

Well that's not what you thought he would say...

"That's not the worst part." He lowered his face to his hands, "The ball in four days, well I told her you were going with me... She's got Ty Lee lining up suitors for her. Trying to make me mad. Also she uh, she's probably told everyone now..."

"Oh." You were at a loss for words.

"I... I don't know... I'm sorry. This is stupid, at the ball I'll tell everyone what happened. I am so, so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen! It just slipped out an-"

"Zuko."

"Yes?"

"What if you don't have to tell everyone?"

You hadn't looked at him since he started talking. Honestly, a night with Zuko at a ball? It sounded like a dream. Zuko was handsome, kind, generous, and you'd had a crush on him for months. You knew he wouldn't ever really date you... So you might as well seize the opportunity, right? What could go wrong!

The two of you decided it would be wise to not tell anyone else it was fake, as Sokka, Toph, and Aang had big mouths. They'd slip up sooner or later. As for Katara, she wouldn't have kept that big of a secret from Aang.

So, for the next few days you and Zuko spent every second together. At first, it was coming up with plans for the ball. It turned into getting more physically comfortable with each other. That eventually escalated to spilling each other's deepest secrets, ya know... just in case...

Even in four days, you found yourself going from a crush to madly in love. You found out his quirks, what made him tick, his hidden likes and dislikes. Not a second was spent apart.

The afternoon before the ball you were stressed. It had been easy up until the ball. You just had to be yourself around Zuko, now you had to pretend in front of hundreds...

Katara helped you pick out a beautiful red and black dress. To match Zuko's of course.

A big scene was planned out between the two of you, Zuko would introduce you to everyone in an announcement and you'd walk don't the grand starts arm in arm with him.

It was fun to imagine and talk about, but now the 'what ifs' were running wild.

You somehow made your way to Zuko's room, knocking hesitantly. He begrudgingly opened, but became excited when he saw you.

"Zuko, I'm terrified." He quickly guided you into his room.

"What happened?"

"What if I fall? What if no one likes me? It's a lot of steps it-" He cut you off.

"Hey, it's okay... We can throw everything out the window. Just saw the words."

You swallowed thick. "No, no just... Just promise you'll be there? For me?"

Your name was a whisper on his lips, "Ill always be here for you... Just imagines its only us up there... Just normal day."

You nodded, more relaxed knowing he'd be by your side through I tall. It also gave you a wicked feeling of comfort to know he was still willing to do whatever you preferred. He would have ended the lie immediately if you asked, but you wanted to be there for him as well. To make sure Mai would leave him alone.

The Palace was bustling with people, waiters, food, activities, and entertainment. It all came to an abrupt stop when Lord Zuko appeared.

It was comical, trumpets blared and all head turned.

"Fire Lord Zuko, accompanied by-" Your name seemed unreal on his lips. To be announced with a Fire Lord? You felt you didn't deserve it.

You slowly walked into view of everyone, whispers erupting. To be 'accompanied by' was essentially dating for Lords and Ladys.

All eyes were on you as you took Zuko's arm, walking down the steps. You felt light, your grip tightening on Zukos.

"Almost there, I'm right here." His words were all the comfort you needed.

Music resumed and the party goers continued their fun.

That was expect for one person. Mai. She marched up to you, her questioning eyes on guard. Watching her march over sparked a fury in you, the fire started and didn't stop until you spoke.

"Hello Mai. How can I help you? Is your father well, since he lost his job as Governor and all..." You passively aggressively asked, a mock frown on your face.

"What would you know about Governor dad's and all? You grew up poor." Damn, she got you there.

"I guess the difference in poor and rich is personality. Cause you don't have one..." You shrugged your shoulders at her, biting back a laugh.

"At least Zuko loved me for who I am, not who I was pretending to be." She remarked, not really knowing why Zuko loved her or you.

"Damn Mai, you must know a lot about pretending. Seeing as you're a two faced bitch. Should I go and tell Ty Lee you called her an 'easy bed'." A gasp left her lips in shock, how did you know she said that? Well, you wouldn't tell her, but a gossiping Fire Sage spilled the beans.

Zuko, who had been temporarily called away to exchange pleasantries with a Navy Captain, had returned.

"Mai, I see you've met my girlfriend." He said, snaking a hand around your waist. Chills were sent up your spine.

She gave a scoff, "It'll never last. You're only in it because he's the Fire Lord." She pointed to you, then him, "And you, you just seemed to pick up the next girl you saw laying around. Talk about a downgrade. When you get tired of her, i'll be waiting." She walked away.

"What is her problem!" You exclaimed, face hot with anger.

"Jealousy, I think." He said.

You turned to face him completely. "What for, she doesn't even seem to like you anymore?"

"Maybe cause you're prettier than her?" He said, not realizing his own words.

Your cheeks were now flushed for a different reason. You swiped your lips with your tongue before speaking, "Thank you..."

Hours of dancing, partying, and eating went by. Everyone bought the act easily, you and Zuko were naturals at dating. The fun died down, and many were starting to go back home.

Zuko walked you back to your room, hand in hand.

"Thank you. I really cannot thank you enough, just ask. Whatever you want is yours." Zuko said, still grasping your hands at your bedroom door.

"I don't need anything. This was really fun actually, I know you were just pretending... but i've had the best time the past five days."

"Pretend?" His face screwed up, like he was in denial.

You blinked a few times, own lip curling. "Well, I mean... You made it pretty clear this was all just an act. I-I am not hurt." You were, but wouldn't let him know.

"Words cannot express how genuine these days have been... Oh gosh, I haven't felt this free since I was a child." He pressed on, serious.

"Y-you mean, none of this has been fake to you?"

"Well, I know you signed up for 'fake'." He looked over you, face uncertain.

With a step forward you spoke, "This hasn't been fake for me either..."

"Really?" He pressed his chest to your slightly, hand wavering around your waist. "Because I don't think I could live if you're lying right now."

"Will this answer your questions?" You leaned up, closing the gap and kissing him.

A/N-Thank you for reading, I haven't fully watched ATLA In a little bit sorry if Zuko is OOC!! When it's not midnight and I'm not super tired, I will edit any mistakes!

#avatar the last airbender #netflix avatar #avatar aang #Zuko x reader #prince zuko #zuko x y/n #zuko x reader #katara atla #mai atla #fire nation #azula

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barbieaemond · 7 months

Text

The order of things

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: mild angst, masturbation, oral sex (m receiving), grinding

Word count: 3k

Taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @arcielee @credulouskhaleesi @bunbunbl0gs @alphard-hydraes-blog

MASTERLIST

There is a raven that flies towards the rookery as soon as the sun is high enough to bathe the Keep in orange. It always comes at the same split minute, Aemond sees it every day, because it is the same split minute in which his training ends. Sometimes he even manages to get the better of the bird, then looks up as he sheathes his sword and awaits him. As soon as it crosses the sky he leaves the courtyard.

His day is like a prayer, devoutly tenacious and unchanging. A bath, breakfast, a flight on dragonback, a book. A visit to Helaena and the twins if the reading bores him.

Someone might say that even his walk is always the same. Rigour and order, to be everything Aegon is not.

This time, he disarms Ser Criston well in advance, so much that the raven has yet to show itself, and when it does, Aemond will be blind to his passing.

"Mother," he says curtly as the Queen passes by. She goes to pray as she does every morning, always at the same time. She too is a creature devoted to rigour, and duty; she has seized her days and clutched them in her fist to prevent them from floating through her.

She pauses to greet him, her voice as mellifluous as ever and her eyes just as warm, and then suddenly, he turns to look at her as if he is looking at a stranger, as if she is speaking a language he does not know. "I wanted to tell you that I'm going to see some girls today, to choose your new maid."

"What's wrong with my maid?"

"Well, I figured she might ask for a leave as the wedding approaches."

He blinks, he stalls, he bogs, unnaturally, the sand stops in the hourglass. The raven glides over the towers, unnoticed.

"Yes, of course." he says, sheathing his sword, and the sand flows again, grain by grain; the funnel shrunk.

Everything in his life is part of that rigour, even people, even her.

She has been in his service long enough to know without asking when the scar pulls to the point of requiring medication. She has been in his service long enough to know that a slight frown in his eyebrows is enough to make her close the curtains and prevent the light from worsening the pain in his head, to know that he likes his venison rather raw, that he hates that doublet because the sleeves are puffed and he feels like a court jester. And she tacitly made it disappear.

She does everything without uttering a word. She doesn't need to ask, she moves when he moves, she has adapted to him like a second skin, and she doesn't seem harmed by the edges.

Yet he is harmed by something, as she pulls off his boots in front of the fireplace. He sees a flat sea where he would like to see a storm. He sees grains flowing and wishes to crash the glass.

"Do you need anything else my Prince?" she has a seraphic expression on her face, and he sees deception. She speaks in a firm, devoted voice, and he hears betrayal.

He stares at her with the eye that looks like a needle, feels like it, then shifts his gaze to the fire and says "I will be in need of your assistance tomorrow, for the whole day."

"The whole day?"

"Yes. Why? Do you have something better to do than the duties you are paid for?"

She is no novice to his bitter tongue; somehow, stupidly, naively and recklessly, she is able to imbue it with treacle when it enters her head. It doesn't matter anyway, her foolishness will end as soon as she takes her vows.

"No. Of course not. I'll be at your service, my Prince."

"Hmm, until?"

"Until?"

"You should be the one to tell me. When is the wedding due?"

Her eyes widen like two large moons and she seems to crumple in on herself, on the floor she is kneeling on, under the Prince's unwavering, iron eye. She feels her throat tighten and yet his hands are steady along the armrests. She feels her lungs crackle against her ribcage. "I—"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Why didn't she?

"My prince, I thought your Grace should not be bothered with such trivial matters."

"I decide what to be bothered about." He says in an imperative tone. "When would you have bothered to inform me? Is this how you show loyalty to your prince? Keeping things from me?"

She glues her eyes to the floor, she cannot hold the Prince's gaze, not when he is like this, even though he has never been like this. He looks angry, he looks outraged? As if he has been wronged. That look makes her blood run cold, and then it melts in red down her cheeks and neck. It would be too easy to blame the chimney behind her back, easy but necessary, to keep things in order. Prince and servant, nothing more. What else is there?

There are heavy sighs falling in the dark, stranded between the sheets as his bones boil and tense at the climax, desire spilled, wasted. But that's fine. To not be all that Aegon is. This too has become rigour, part of the order of things.

It is the order of things to watch her kneel at his feet and wish to spill his desire into her mouth. As is seeing her nails always neat and tidy scratching the floor as her back arches against him, as is seeing the blood reddening her cheeks and neck, and wanting to lick it as far as it goes.

Someone else will do it. An ordinary man of no consequence in the order of things, the real one.

"You may go." he says coldly, hoping the frost of his tongue will cool the feverish blood under his skin.

She rises from the floor with a bowed, desolate head. "I bid you good night, my Prince."

The next morning he asks her to change the sheets, and he turns his back on her, ashamed, as if she knows she is in those sheets.

He takes a bath while she does her chores, finishing exactly when he does, because she moves when he moves. She helps him put on a dark green robe, unperturbed by his nudity, because that is her duty and it no longer makes her blush.

There's never been clumsiness in her hands, but there is today. Aemond feels her hands heavy as boulders when she prepares the ointment for his eye, when she leans over him to remove his eyepatch. She doesn't speak to him as she always does, oozing that glimmer of amusement when she brings up the servants' petty feuds and wars.

"You're rather quiet today." He asserts later, as she buttons his doublet "Has the armistice been reached in the kitchens?"

She opens in a brief smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I don't know, Your Grace. I find myself spending a lot more time outside the Keep these days."

"Is that so?” He retorts, narrowing his eye “Hmm, is that why my books are still on the desk?"

She finishes her buttoning and ties her hands on her modest skirt. "I am sorry, Your Grace. I will see to it that they are put in order at once."

"I have no use for your apology. Why didn't you do it when I told you to?"

"Your mother gave me a leave for a few hours yesterday."

"And why did you ask my mother and not me? You are in my service, not hers."

She keeps looking down like a suspect on trial and swallows. "I went to Flea Bottom to buy some fabric for my wedding dress. I was ashamed to ask you for a leave for something so frivolous. As a woman, I thought your mother would understand."

"You will do no such thing in the future. Hide things from me and leave the Keep without my permission, or I'll have you punished. Am I being clear?"

"Your Grace, I…” she pauses, she looks down, she swallows, but it’s now or never. “You should know that I will no longer be here after the wedding. I am going to formally resign my position. Your Mother has already-"

His eye goes wide, and wild, and he breathes loudly until he is snarling. "Are you deaf or dense? Did you not hear me? You will not leave my service."

The moons in her eyes are full now. She looks at him, begging him to let her go, because that is the natural course of things. She will marry a common man, give him a couple of children and live a quiet life in the country, where her groom has a smallholding of land, their only source of wealth if they do not want a life of misery in Flea Bottom. And she is fine with that. She has accepted it. She is like any other common girl, she cannot dream, her blood is only red, there's no castle nor crown waiting for her.

She has accepted her fate with the calmness of a stream that lets itself be carried along by its current. She is happy like this, because as far as she could, in that silly way in which all ordinary girls dream, she dreamed, even though her dream is made of flesh and blood.

She had shivered when he had leaned over her when he taught her to read. She had breathed in deeply to know what he smelled like. She had felt ice in her stomach under his gaze when she read a few pages to him. And that is more than dreaming.

She cannot remain in his service, because she is an ordinary girl and more than dream, she cannot want.

"Your Grace..." she begs, going down to the floor "I beg you. Let me go my way. I believe I have always served you to the best of my ability and if I’ve ever failed you in something, name it. I will do anything to make it right."

Aemond bogs again, but in something far more paralysing and at the same time overwhelming than all his rigour. Perhaps it is the sight of her on her knees again, her head bowed and devoted, and the fact that he wants to touch that devotion, wants to taste it and swallow it.

Slowly, he lifts her chin with two fingers, eye blind to everything else; his thumb moves over her lower lip as if to know its edges, as if he has wanted to do this all his life.

"Anything?" he asks in the voice of another, the one stranded in the sheets.

She nods slowly, and the movement rubs his thumb against her teeth for a moment, forcing him to swallow, to give himself control, not to push his finger in. He is not Aegon, He is not Aegon, he is not Aegon.

"Would you be willing to please me?" he asks, and his question reaches some remote place in her, that place where a girl can dream and want freely. In that place, if he had asked once, twice, a hundred times, she would have bent to his will, not to the duty of the servant who must please her lord. Sure, that too. But first of all to her will. It is a question that need not be asked, for there is but one answer.

"Yes..."

Blood flows into her cheeks, breathing out fire from her lips. "How...? How do you want me to please you, my Prince?"

"With this..." he replies, pushing his thumb over her lip.

Her hands move fluidly over the belt and buttons of his breechers as if she had done this countless times before. She helps him dress, she knows his body even though she has never touched him. She has never touched a man in her life, not like this. Aemond reads the embarrassment on her cheeks and he basks in it with a glimmer of pride, because he will be the first.

Gently, he places a hand behind her head, tilting it a little, and looks at her with his heavy, clouded eye, enthralled. "Open your mouth..."

He knows she's never done this before, but the hot alcove of her mouth is enough to make him open his mouth and let out air in a broken cadence. She raises her eyes as if to ask if she is doing something wrong, and the sight, real and not the outcome of some delusion hidden in the dark, smothers his breath. He begins to thrust into her mouth slowly, hardening quickly as she continues to look at him and welcome him into her mouth with the devotion with which one kneels to the Seven.

"Gevie..." he pants hoarsely, brushing his fingers through her hair "You look more beautiful than I thought like this..."

His hand in her hair never tightens, though his hips move faster and the wet sound is the only one that keeps his panting company.

"Your cheeks..." he instructs her "Hollow your cheeks..."

And just as when he was teaching her to read, she listens , sucking agonisingly slowly. “Fuck—” he curses, threading his long fingers through her hair and pulling at the roots; he thrusts faster so that she has to grip his waist with her hands but when he senses she can’t breathe, he lets of her head and slips out of her scorching lips, hissing at feeling the cold air of the room.

She’s panting hard, with her mouth open and slick with him. But she has little time to catch a puff of air. He thrashes her on the carpet, with a rough kiss full of teeth and growls, and his hands move like talons, pulling her modest skirts up to her waist.

“No—My Prince—” she muffles on his mouth, pleading but desperate all together “We can’t—”

“I won’t ruin you, I promise.” he says rummaging through her garments “Just let me feel you this once—”

He finds her core with his large hand, hot and slick, and she whimpers loudly in his open mouth. “Do you get this wet for your groom, hmm? Or just for your Prince?”

She unconsciously bucks her hips against his hand and he smiles, delightfully, against her neck, licking a stripe down her throat. “I’m in need of an answer, my sweet girl…” he says raising his head, the leather piece is about to fall behind his disheveled hair. “Have you touched yourself thinking of me?”

Shame washes over her as well as pride does him. “You did, didn’t you?”

His retrieves his hand and licks her off his fingers as if he was waiting for nothing else, staring at her with his eye pitch black.

“Do it.”

“M-my Prince?”

“Touch yourself. Now.”

She looks away, reddening even more, but he grasps her chin and forces her to look at him. “Do you want that permission to leave my service?”

It takes her a minute to swallow her shame, and then her hands is slipping between them. He pulls himself up on one arm to give her space to spread her legs some more, to watch closely as she starts to move her little hand on her bundle of nerves. “Look at me.” He commands, and she flutters her eyes with a bit of prudery before obliging.

Her breathing becomes heavy, just as his, slowly touching himself to mimic her, as he has done countless of times before but this is different. This is like the first time. He can watch her chasing her pleasure because of him, with him. He can watch the sweat beading her neck, her lip trembling. He can hear the sweet lewd sounds she makes for him.

She grows more desperate by the moment, swaying her hips on the carpet, grabbing his shoulder and neck until he falls on her. He groans upon feeling her cunt against his cock and by now they’re both too close to need hands anymore. He starts to grind against her, his hard flesh slicking ever so easily on her wetness, swallowing her whimpers and moans as he pants and rasps on her lips “Go on, sweet one. Come for me, hm?”

She does so, gripping his shoulders until digging her nails on the fabric, moaning with her mouth slack open.

He keeps grinding against her, frantic, panting, the eyepatch is somewhere on the ground and she watches him in the stupor of pleasure, like she’s experiencing a vivid dream, but the weight of the prince on her is real, his cock rubbing against her core making it twitch for more, his coarse voice as he rasps “Gods—‘M so close…” and then the jolt of warm seed on her belly.

He falls on her breathing hard, making her wince, but she can't find the strength to slip away, to pull down her skirt or move the long silvery lock that has gone into her mouth. She must leave everything as it is, and then leave it to be the ordinary girl without dreams.

For two days, her presence around the Keep is rather scarce, barely traceable in the Prince’s chambers. But his breakfast is always ready on his desk, his clothes always clean and well folded on the chair.

Aemond does not send for her nor does he seem to care where she is. He returns to his rigour, to his books, to his training as soon as dawn breaks.

One of the Kingsguard shows up in the courtyard and stands there to watch, waiting for the Prince to finish his duel.

"My Prince, I've done some research after our last conversation."

"Well?"

"Just as you said, your Grace. A modest cottage and a piece of land near Duskendale."

"Good." He says, sheathing his sword and glancing up upon hearing a distant caw. "I want you to send two city guards there, and burn it all down."

The guard blinks, widening his eyes. "My Prince?"

"You heard me."

The guard leaves and Aemond hears cawing again, closer this time. He glances up and the raven greets him, flapping his wings in the newborn sun.

Everything is in order.

#liv(in la vida loca)#aemond targaryen x reader #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon #hotd fic #aemond fic #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond smut #dark aemond smut #dark aemond targaryen #the order of things

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blueberrypancakesworld · 2 months

Note

Hiii there!

I wanted to request an oscar tully x targaryen reader maybe rhaenyras daughter please.. tbh i dont even know what it should be about i just wanted it to ba a oscar and targ reader .. thanks ☺️☺️

The river and the flame

Oscar Tully x princess!reader

warning : hurt/comfort, kissing, holding hands, no use of Y/n

Summary : A sacrifice, the only daughter of the Queen of the Black had to be married and the best match was the new young Lord of the House of Tully who promised to give his strength to the Queen. An engagement and marriage consummated, the fire finds itself in waters where both young nobles must hold each other to make it together and not burn and drown each other.

info : thank you dear anon for this request it was a lot of fun to write it have fun reading and have a nice day everyone

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With fire and strength she could have been born, but when the gods were merciful and gave her first husband something in a night of listlessness through wine and potions, the Queen of the Black conceived her fourth child from a marriage that could never have been consummated.

The queen's first and own princess was born, the little child with the image of her parents bright hair thicker than her mother's silken hair and violet eyes like gems that captured everyone. Behind her were the symbols of the dragon and so she was the only one of her siblings to keep her mother's family name, a decision that complicated things and put her three brothers in an even worse light.

But sacrifices had to be made for the princess, sacrifices in the form of "assassinations", new marriages and the retreat to Dragonstone where the faction of the blacks gathered and rebuilt over the course of weeks and months.

The legacy of the Black Dragon Queen was laid on her true daughter and two small toddlers, even though Jacaerys Velaryon was her eldest son and a young man willing to prove himself to inherit his mother's legacy, he knew he had strength in his blood, a blood that his two brothers had but not his half-siblings.

So the Targaryen family, the black party faced with serious problems Daemond in Harenhall had been trying to gather support for some time, Aegon and Viserys sent away with Rhaena but what now?

An alliance had to be forged because even if honor still prevailed houses no longer chose Viserys' side, it was about the future of families, of royalty and children, it was a decision that could mean death or life, ,,Without news from Daemon we cannot rely on the support of the Riverlands…if you allow the proposal of marriage to be made" the Master began again, who returned without his raven's message.

But she didn't even have to look up from the map to hear her mother's reply, ,,Out of the question" before Rhaenyra tried to find answers in the documents and maps, she had no one to marry but her daughter, but what mother wanted to lose her child in an area she could never get to herself.

It could mean her death but when violet eyes met there was something like hope in the princess's eyes, ,,If my queen allows me to marry the new Lord Tully I would be protected by the Prince Regent and the lords of the surrounding houses who have sworn allegiance to Oscar Tully" she gave her explanation and clasped the small metal statue of the fish they had all heard the aftermath of the death and resurrection of the head of the house and it was the only solution.

It ended in a few arguments, tears and loving gestures but now just a few days later here she was under the banner of the fish with her husband Osacr Tully, despite the fact that they were both young so appreciative of each other he had welcomed her without vourtiele was sincere and loving…and perhaps her heart had beaten faster than she thought when he had placed a kiss on her palm.

He held her hand as he showed her Riverrun, introduced her to the household, the hall and the vassals who had also proclaimed themselves for his wife, he treated her as in the songs and stories of yesteryear about noble knights, ,,My reign would not be possible without you, you are the first flame in the river and my heart rejoices more and more every day in your company my beloved," he said to her as he helped her onto one of the boats and they sailed across the river together.

She smiled back at him and gratefully held his hand, holding this little,,,nushell" quite insecurely in contrast to her grandfather's boats, but with every little jerk he held her tightly to him, his dark eyes like the river assuring her of her safety.

,,You are safe I promise" he murmured to her as he held her and she dipped her hand in the river, the wetness and coolness was pleasant instead of the everlasting heat and warmth, ,,I will follow you my lord husband" she replied after the words her mother and grandmother had taught her.

Before she felt his hand gently on her cheek it was just the two of them and the still river as they came closer and kissed again, ,,Oscar please my love" she whispered and she leaned her forehead against his for a moment as the two barely grown nobles lay in each other's arms enjoying the river ride while a joyful scream could be heard above them from time to time between the clouds and she followed Oscar's interested gaze closely.

The water, the fish, the river was her new home, which she quickly took to her heart. Her clothes, although now more of a bluish red and bronze, she kept the symbols of the dragon with her hair, brooches and Seasmoke herself.

Until she met her great-uncle again who had watched this marriage with a disdainful look and even if he didn't admit it, it offended him that his great-niece had managed the union in what he couldn't do in weeks, ,,Impressive isn't it what a princess can do with such looks and devotion, isn't it Lady Tully?" he had asked her at dinner as he sat next to her and looked into tired, almost haggard eyes that resembled her own in color.

She knew Oscar must have heard, she knew her great-uncle and her husband hated each other, didn't like the prospect of sharing power, ,,Her sacrifice to her family and the Queen towards my Targaryen wife is truly impressive she is not only in my house she is the Guardian of the Riverlands Prince Regent" Oscar said with pride in his voice as he raised his goblet and took her hand saying a good luck to Rhaenyra and his wife and she welcomed the restraint of her great uncle who would have otherwise only made things worse.

But all could not always go well only one moon later at the weirwood tree in the garden of the ruined castle Harenhall the houses of the Riverlands found themselves together with Oscar as their new lord and Daemon, a confrontation the princess attended with Seasmoke watching over the whole thing with an interested eye.

A confrontation that ended in blood as Daemond cut off Ser Willem's head ordered by Oscar whose eyes reflected fear for a moment as he looked into hers she clasped his hand the highborn couple watched this execution for all to see she felt the brief squeeze of her hand as Oscar truly saw this bloodshed for the first time.

,,You did the right thing Oscar they will follow you now and so will my great uncle…I won't let any words come back to haunt you I will stand for it" she told him as soon as everyone else had left the ruined garden and the young lord sat down by the tree still somewhat affected by the murder she felt herself almost reflexively wiping the blood away with a handkerchief before helping Oscar wipe his away.

She returned his silent thanks with a gentle kiss and the two sat there in silence until an idea came to her and she called her dragon who was struggling for space in the garden, ,,You have shown me the beauty of the water of your river let me show you the beauty of the sky" she said and climbed onto Seasmoke's back who seemed happy to be flying again.

She saw how it confused him for a moment, the boy rose and placed his hand carefully on the bright waremn scales and Seasmoke nudged him, mocking Ocsar who had been feeding the dragon fish with the help of his wife.

,,Can we fly through clouds? " Oscar asked as she saw courage and joy return to his gaze and he placed himself behind her, his grip on her stomach tightened and she heard his cry as Seasmoke took off with a scream and seemed to disappear into the smoke of his fire in the air.

She put one hand on Oscar's while with the other she gently guided Seasmoke, knowing that Oscar didn't understand her she would one day teach him, ,,I'll fly through anything you want look at this peace and quiet" she said louder over the sound of the loud flapping of wings and Seasmoke's hissing she heard Oscar slowly relax and hug her, laughing happily as he too saw this special something she could see every day.

Up here there didn't seem to be any problems it was quiet not too hot or too cold and peaceful, ,,It's incredibly beautiful" he mumbled continuing to hold on to her fetus as she headed for the clouds and he hesitantly held out a hand and gasped as his fingers got wet and showed her like a little child enjoying a wooden swing but she did the same and they joined hands and flew through the clouds for hours.

She heard his thanks and praise every now and then, a kiss on her cheek and both their hearts beat together in peace as they found beauty in each other's homes, together in love that would go beyond war.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#hotd #hotd s2 #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon #oscar tully #oscar tully x reader #house targaryen #house tully #male x female #princess reader

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thebluester2020 · 2 months

Text

[TWST] "Confessions Through A Red Haze"

Summary: The perfect way to spend a four-day weekend? Go to a cabin and get into...unforeseen "troubles" with a prince of course!

Warning(s): Unknowingly taking aphrodisiacs (Both Yuu + Leona),

Side note(s): This is for @kimdourden for my follower potion event! <33. Thank you for giving me this juicy idea 👁️ ✨ (Now I have to proceed to see if I can chuck out a short comic based on this idea—)

I hope this is close to what you wanted! (Sorry to leave off on a cliff-hanger T0T. But hey, I like this idea so much that I think Ill just create a longer fic based off this tbh)

"Go on a vacation with me."

You didn't expect this would be how you spend your four-day weekend.

When Night Raven College decided to announce that the student population would be receiving a four-day weekend due to repairs and additions to the classrooms. You had made mental notes and plans as to what you wanted to do and accomplish during that timeframe! The most notable part of those plans? You wanted to spend some time alone.

It had been three months since you had arrived to this strange new world and already so many things had been happening! You could barely keep up, attempting to stay focused without subsequently losing your mind was a hard set of knives to try and juggle with. You thought that this vacation would have done you some good until...Leona Kingscholar, the Housewarden of SavannaClaw and the local arrogant prince, decided to crush all your attempts at being by your lonesome via his request.

And you had a mind to reject the offer.

It wasn't like the two of you were close in any way, shape or form! You disliked him and he disliked you, a fact that you were completely fine with. So...why were you in a cabin with him in the middle of the woods? Simple! Because his car decided to run out of gas all of a sudden and the once gentle pitter-patter of rain was becoming an all-out thunderstorm. Any attempts to look for help or some type of gas station to refuel had been crushed the second you two heard the thunder in the distance.

Although the cabin was in slight disrepair and lacked air conditioning. it was clear that it was nowhere close to a five-star motel. But it was the best and only option for you two.

Much to Leona's annoyance with each passing second, he thought he could feel something crawling on him as you two decided to hang out in the living room area of sorts. "How troublesome," He said.

"Maybe you should've listened to me when I said that I didn't want to go." The prince's eyes rolled at your words, he'd be blunt with himself when he said that there was no real reason as to why he asked for you to come with him, aside from the fact that Ruggie said he'd be busy this weekend going back to the Sunset Savannas. Although he could've asked anyone else...you, strangely enough, were the first person that popped into his mind.

Leona then turned to look at you, resting his chin in the palm of his hand as his arm was propped up on the arm of the couch he sat on. "Be more grateful, or are you always invited places with princes?"

You guffawed. "You're so full of it."

He smirked. "Am I?"

"Yes!"

"Hm, I wonder if your answer would remain firm if I suggested we do something more fun together."

His smirk grew when you turned your head away with silence, however, his senses caught onto the brief scent of...sweetness in the air.

You were fun.

Way more fun than Ruggie, perhaps that's what first made him begin liking you a little bit more than anyone else at this school. Not that he would be so quick to admit that to yourself, it had taken him a very long time for him to admit it to himself! Though he didn't know exactly when his liking towards you started, all he knew was that...he wanted to be closer to you. But until he was ready to make that first step, that or your clear lusts towards him reached their boiling point and you confessed yourself. He rather enjoyed teasing you.

A true lion knew how to wait for his prey to come to him.

Suddenly however, a scent of something sweet caught his nostrils. The prince's nose scrunched up at the smell. "What's that?" He looked around.

"What's what?" You responded, your head turning to him as he smelled the air before you copied his actions. It reminded you of a vanilla scent, mixed with a hint of chocolate that grew more potent with each breath, with each pull of the smell into your lungs as you began to feel yourself relax more and more. As well as grow...strangely hot.

You wanted to panic as you felt your vision starting to become hazy but as your eyes dragged over to Leona. You couldn't help that your thighs started to clench once more. The lion beastman was never ugly in your eyes, his strikingly handsome features, as well as the fact that he was a prince, was a juxtaposition to him being rude and lazy. Still, it seemed that the heart wants what the heart wants because despite those facts...despite you desperately trying to tell and scold yourself that you shouldn't like Leona.

Here you stood, vision hazy and silently pleading that he would just walk over to you and kiss you like you wanted to kiss him.

And as you focused on that fact, you had barely noticed he had walked up to you until he was right in front of your face, your eyes glued to his moving lips until...you leaned in to kiss him. A chaste peck, nothing more, but one that left the prince stunned as his eyes widened until they were almost comically large.

He'd been waiting for that since he had a crush on you.

But...judging from your smell, your clenching thighs, and how you looked at him as if you were in a daze.

This strange scent in the cabin was affecting you—no, the both of you. He was harder than ever in his entire twenty years of living. As he continued to look at you, all he could think about was fucking you into the nearby couch and making you his officially. But, he desperately tried to keep his mind afloat and free from letting his instincts and wants take over. No matter what this smell made him want to do, he wouldn't do it unless you were in the mindset for you to ask him to do it.

"C'mon, we need to leave—" His eyes immediately snapped shut, his teeth gritting together to the point it was almost painful as he tried to ignore your shameless moans the second he tried to help you up. And the way the sounds kept repeating over and over and over in his head, was maddening. "Quite your squeaking and get up—"

"Nooooo...." You whined. "Leona, I really like you."

He rolled his eyes. "You're not in your right head."

You pouted, the adorable sight nearly making the prince falter. Almost.

"You like me too, right?" You asked, your voice almost a plead as you grabbed onto Leona's forearm tightly, begging him to look you in the eyes.

His mouth opened and closed before he nodded his head.

And that's all the confirmation you needed before you tried to lean in for another kiss, only for Leona to put some distance between the two of you once again. "Are you sure?" He asked.

"Yes." Then you pulled him to your lips by tugging on his hair, ripping a raspy groan from the lion beastman as his arm snaked around you to pull you closer to his chest. The two press of your lips together made your nerves fire off as if they were being electrocuted every millisecond, your hands grabbing and pulling at the prince's clothing as he clumsily carried you to the couch before he placed you down and started to pull off your clothing. Whatever the scent in the air was doing, it made the both of you feel closer to wild animals in heat.

As if you couldn't get enough of each other.

And quite frankly? The both of you didn't want to.

#twst fanfic #twst leona #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst yuu #disney twisted wonderland #smut #twst smut #leona twst #leona twisted wonderland #leona x reader #leona smut #followerpotionevent #follower event #blueswritingstuff #bluespotionevent

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inuiiwonderland · 2 months

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Neige x gn reader

Villain you who grew up to be a villain. To be evil and cruel and have zero love in your heart.

Villain you who was never really loved as a child. Only born to carry out your parent’s legacy. To show those wibbity bitty kings and queens, princesses and prince’s that evil is still around and they won’t live in peace as long as you are around.

Villain you who would sneer at the simple THOUGHT of loving something or someone. Why would you waste time on something so useless as love?

Villain you who stumbled upon a boy while walking deep into the forest near night raven college.

The boy was peacefully sleeping against a tree as birds, bunnies, deers, and other cute creatures surrounded him.

He looked at peace

Villain you who scoffed and rolled your eyes once you noticed that it was someone from Royal swords academy. How did the boy manage to get so far from his school? You have no clue anddd you could care less.

You turned around, ready to leave to go find another place to nap until the sound of someone’s voice makes you stop.

“Hello?”

You look over your shoulder only to see the boy staring. Wide eyes and rosy cheeks you scowl before turning back around and ignoring him.

“W-wait! Are you a night raven student?”

“Eh? Of course I am. What’s a royal sword academy student like yourself doing here?? Get lost you don’t belong here!” You say before turning back. Ready to walk away from him.

“Wait! What’s your name? My name is neige! Neige LeBlanche!” You ignore the boy as you kept walking.

Maybe he’ll get the hint and leave you alone.

Nope

He didn’t

The next thing you know, you hear the sound of footsteps coming from behind you before an out of breath Neige stands next to you.

“Y-you are a *gasps* fast walker!”

Yeah…

“What are you doing? Go back! I’m walking back to my school!”

“I have a friend who goes to night raven! Well, I’m not friends with him YET but we know each other!”

“I don’t care”

“So how was your day so far?”

Villain you, who from then on had a clingy royal student attached to their hip.

As days, weeks, and months go by, you suddenly started growing fond of someone your parents would obviously DESPISE.

Villain you who slowly started looking forward to spending time with neige and even letting him talk your ear off without the thought of cursing him.

Villain you who said yes to neige taking you out on a date. You two having a picnic near a lake. The place was beautiful. Surrounded by trees and vines while the lake water was crystal clear.

Villain you who was awkward. Not knowing what to say or do as this was your first time being taken out on a date. Neige beautiful brown eyes starting lovingly at you the whole time.

Love struck Neige who is literally IN LOVE with you. Ever since he woken up and saw you in that forest. His heart yearned for you.

Love struck Neige who finds it absolutely adorable how confused and shy you are. He offers you a strawberry and his heart flutters at the way your eyes light up as you take a bite of the sweet treat.

Villain you who later reveals that you never experienced such love and care before. To have zero love in your heart. How the only thing you know is evil. Because you were born to be evil.

Villain you who looks at neige when you utter out the words

“I don’t know what love feels like” As you then look away. Ashamed and embarrassed.

Love struck Neige who gently grabs your chin and turns you to look at him.

“Maybe I can teach you” He says softly as he looks deeply into your eyes.

In love

YERRR um yeah im slowly getting out of my writers block.

If you understand the reference, MARRY ME

#inuiiwonderland🤍#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twst #twst x reader #twst fluff #twst neige #twst neige lablanche #neige leblanche x reader #neige leblanche #twisted wonderland neige #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland disney #twisted wonderland fluff #twst x gn reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #neige x reader

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neil-gaiman · 9 months

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Dear Neil,

I hope you're fine!

In 2023 one of the nicest and reveberating thing, that happened to me, was, that I got know Terry's work and after some time, your works too, and, of course Good Omens (yeah...I don't know either, what took me so long...😉).

So, thank you so much for your written universe, I feel totally comfortable in it!

Some time ago, I also got your rewriting of the fairytale "Hänsel and Gretel" by the Brothers Grimm in my hands. I totally like how you made it your own in some way, but also did not disregard its core about wits, endurance, gumption and love. And I have high standards😊, because I grew up with all the Grimm's fairytales and I, even as a small kid, disliked the editions, which tried to paint over fear, sorrow and in some tales, violence and horror, too. Without these plots the solution in the end would just be half the relìef! As you said in your review about Tatars The Annotaited Brothers Grimm the fairtyales are magic mirrors about the world we see or we want to see and which we have to cope and deal with every day.

My three favourite ones are

1.Die Bremer Stadtmusikanten/The Town Musicians of Bremen

Even if your closest people tell you, you are not enough (anymore), you don't fit in and you are worthless, you one day, will find your bunch of soulmates, who are good for you and you can the hell Rock'n Roll with!

2. Die sieben Raben/The seven Ravens

The girl does not wait for some Prince Charming. She herself gets stuff done and does not get herself haunted by some mistakes her parents did years ago.

3. Das tapfere Schneiderlein/The valiant dressmaker

Sometimes weird and spontanous decision can turn your whole life around, in a good way, because they give you the self-consciousness to get it on.

And (finally, sorry) here come my questions:

1. Which are your favourite fairytales of the Brothers Grimm?

2. And why?

I wish you and your family a very merry Christmas, or holidays, and a very good year!

Have fun with Good Omens 3! ❤🌠

Greetings from Germany!

I like your choices, although I'd swap Hansel and Gretel for the Musicians of Bremen.

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holdmytesseract · 4 months

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A cute little drabble request for baby fever in the future or for the sleepover: Y/N, Ella, and 2 year old Narfi all get sick with the flu and loki has to take care of all of them, Y/N being the sickest, feels like she is dying and Loki comforts her. Just a little cute one.

Caring Husband and Father

Warnings: sickness a.k.a the flu, fluff

Word Count: blurb

a/n: Thank you for this request, friend. This drabble turned out to be so soft and sweet! 🥹

"Dada," Narfi sobbed on Loki's arm; head lolling from side to side against his father's chest. "I know, little prince, I know..." The god whispered and pressed his lips against the top of his son's curly haired head; trying to reassure him. In vain. Narfi kept on whining and sobbing.

"Are your earaches worse, huh?" The little boy just snivelled and rubbed his snotty nose against Loki's t-shirt. He sighed, "Thought so." and shifted the two-year-old on his arm, so that he could check on his temperature. "But I think your fever sunk a bit. That's good."

Narfi had caught a nasty flu. Well, only because Ella had caught it. He got it from his big sister and well, you... You caught it as well. Everybody was knocked out by it. Except Loki. Perhaps it was his godly biology, which prevented him from getting sick easily. A thing which you were glad about, because he could look after you and the kids. A task he submitted himself to happily.

The god walked with the toddler still on his arm into the kitchen, in order to give him some meds against the flu itself and especially earaches. The boy swallowed bravely the disgustingly tasting medicine. "There you go," Loki pressed a kiss on his forehead. "You are so brave, sweet boy." Narfi sobbed once more and cuddled back against his dad's chest; little arms looping around his neck.

"Come on, little prince, time for a nap." He carried Narfi into the living room and laid down with him on the sofa; knowing that his son was way too clingy and wouldn't let go of him now.

Loki's seidr helped Narfi's earaches at least a little bit and so he slept in on top of Loki; snugly wrapped up in a blanket. It was absolutely cosy and Narfi's weight upon his upper body so comfortable, it almost lulled the raven haired god to sleep as well. He was about to doze off, when a quiet voice brought him back down to earth.

"B-Babe?"

At the sound of your voice, Loki's eyes immediately flew open; head turning to face the door. His heart broke then and there, as he saw you standing there, wrapped up in a fluffy blanket. You were utterly pale and had deep rings underneath your eyes. He could see how weak you were and how bad you felt. The flu had really taken its toll on you...

Loki stood up instantly, but carefully - not to wake the toddler sleeping on his chest, "I'm here, darling." and stepped over to you. "Do you need anything, my love? Can I help you?" You coughed, which caused your whole body to shake; eyes glassy. "I-I dunno, I just... I feel like shit." Then your gaze fell on your son. "H-How's my baby doing?"

Loki pressed a kiss against your forehead; the warmth against his lips radiating from your skin concerned him. "He's doing okay; only slept in about ten minutes ago." You felt how your husband wrapped a strong arm gently around your waist. "Come, darling." You didn't argue, of course, and let Loki guide you back to the bedroom.

He helped you lay down. "Stay here. I'll be right with you. I'm just going to put Narfi down and look after our princess." You nodded and curled yourself up into a ball. Loki let his eyes roam your weak and fragile body with worry on his face, before he left the bedroom again.

Carefully, the god put Narfi down; laying him inside his baby cot and making sure he was warm enough. Of course, he took the baby monitor with him, then went to check on Ella. He hadn't heard a word from her in a few hours. It didn't concern the god much, since she's been sleeping a lot in the past days; letting her body work to get the flu out of its system.

Slowly, he opened the door to her room and peeked inside. He was right. His daughter was fast asleep; curled up underneath her blanket. Soft snores left her lips, due to her stuffy nose. On tiptoes, he walked over and placed a hand on her forehead. Ella's fever was gone. Loki smiled softly. At least someone of his family was getting better.

The raven haired god leaned down and kissed her forehead as well; tucking the girl back in properly and left the room again.

Before he returned to you, he made you another cup of camomile tea and took some of your meds with him.

He found you just like he left you... Curled up on the bed. "Darling..." He stepped over and sat down on the edge of the bed. You turned to him. "I made you some tea and brought you medicine. It's time for you to take them," Loki spoke in a quiet voice; handing you the meds and the bottle of water, standing on your nightstand.

Again, you nodded and took the medicine; along of a small sip of hot tea. Loki helped you to get comfortable then; fluffing your pillow and making sure that you were comfortable. "Is that to your liking, my love? Are you comfortable?" "Y-Yes, thank you." Your husband gave you a soft smile. "Anything else you need?" Your soft, glassy Y/E/C met his. "You... Just you... Please..." You reached for his hand; his warm palm engulfing yours.

Another soft smile grazed his lips and he dipped his head to press a kiss against the skin of your hand, before he let go of you again and quickly rounded the bed to join you. Loki cuddled up against you; curled his body against yours. "Is that okay, darling?" "Mhh..." You hummed; "Perfect." closing your eyes. "Thank you for taking care of us." Loki kissed your neck. "Of course, my love. Always."

Baby Fever Crew: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @jennyggggrrr @multifandom-worlds @herdetectivetheorist @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @hisredheadedgoddess28 @chennqingg @princess-ofthe-pages @brokenpoetliz @km-ffluv @huntedmusicgardenn @lokiforever @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loz-3 @jaguarthecat @icytrickster17 @eleniblue @yourfriendlyslytherinhc @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @kimanne723 @lou12346789 @smolvenger @lokisrealpurpous @isaidoop @lokisgoodgirl @aagn360 @alexakeyloveloki @glitchquake @cakesandtom @anukulee @lady-rose-moon @ainsley30 @lovingchoices14 @lokischambermaid @irishhappiness @mandywholock1980 @totsnotlynn @loki-laufeyson223 @vbecker10 @lulubelle814

#campfire sleepover #2k follower celebration #the baby fever au #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki fanfiction #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader

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radiance1 · 10 months

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Ghost Prince Danny who has been adopted by Pariah Dark, known tyrant of the Infinite Realms that has hated and tried to wage war with humanity for eons before being put to sleep.

Then, there is Raven. Daughter of Trigon.

Danny was just going through some kind of royalty training, that he didn't want nor cared for, when they dropped a bomb on him.

Apparently, Amity Park and the rest of the world he knew exists in some kind of weird pocket dimension that was surrounded by the Infinity Realms.

It went like this:

Infinite Realms > Unworld > His world > Unworld > Infinite Realms > basically everything else.

Which was pretty shocking information to be told straight up.

Anywho, he then decided to go and visit his father (Pariah Dark not Jack Fenton) because it was a way to get out of his studies, he's very thankful that Clockwork stepped in and allowed him to go.

Only before reversing his clock and changing him into a kid, of course, and Danny was like "Why???" and Clockwork refused to explain further than his signature calm, all-knowing smile.

So, he arrives in the dimension and then decides to withhold his visit for now because he wants to explore. He finds this dimension to be very different to his, there's magic for one thing, superheroes and villains for another, and actual proof of aliens.

Safe to say, he's gonna be withholding that visit for a while to explore and check out the differences.

Then he gets summoned, and uh, he didn't know that could happen but it did. Then some heroes pull up, fight the cultists, and then look at him a bit weirdly because they were expecting the Ghost King aka Pariah Dark.

He's his son.

Which, apparently, makes them even more apprehensive than they were a while ago. Something about being the son of a tyrant who was known for enslaving worlds or whatever.

Then, he meets Raven.

Meeting her was pretty.... awkward? He thinks? Cause it seemed like she wanted to say something but didn't know how to say it?

Then, while he was sitting around (because apparently, he was being kept an eye on by the Teen Titans) by himself just zoning out, she sat down next to him, and started to talk about her own father and how he was also a known tyrant and enslaver of worlds, and she was apparently the key to the destruction of this world and stuff.

But she didn't have to be something like that, that she could choose her own fate and be good, and so could Danny.

Danny, is, well. Stunned. Then started crying.

He then realized that his it's been a while since he blinked, and that's probably why he's crying. But Raven doesn't know that and assumed she caused this and is trying to get him to calm down and Danny is already calm he swears-

Looking like someone under 10 probably didn't help, neither was trying to wipe his tears away and claim that he was fine but hey! He was trying his best alright-

(Meanwhile, the Ghost tyrant and enslaving of worlds in question: Farmer with quite the ghostly (and kingly) secret. Yes this was an au that was mixed in with Farmer Pariah, because I like that au and this hc is one of my favorites for Pariah, along with him having an intense love for horses :D)

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover #ghost prince danny #Honestly I have no idea what this au actually is #I just wanted Raven and Ghost Prince Danny to meet #And then Raven knowing of Pariah Dark or at least being told #Assumes that Danny could be like her #And then says that he doesn't have to be evil just because his father is and that he could make his own fate #Or something like that #de aging

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shesjustanothergeek · 3 days

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The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Seven: Ending Anew

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Thank you for your patience and understanding with the uploads. I've been working six days a week and have only one day to myself where I can do basic necessities like wash clothes and clean. My bedroom has certainly paid for it and so has my hobbies. (Or lack there of) I hope y'all enjoy this seeing young adult Aemond and reader! (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

Chapter Warnings: sexual harassment, dubious consent, bastardphobia, implied mental illness, lots of sexism.

The distinction between those we love and those we hate can be subtle. Both emotions are directed towards an individual based on their inherent qualities. Despite this commonality, they are often perceived as opposites. Loving someone entails wanting them to thrive while hating someone involves wishing for their suffering or transformation. However, love and hate can coexist despite their seemingly contradictory nature.

Six years ago, you experienced deep affection for an individual during your youth, believing that their sun-kissed hands epitomized kindness. However, after enduring years of distress, you discovered the unexpected capability to harbor animosity towards this once beloved person. This realization perplexed you as you contemplated whether he endured similar inner turmoil.

You hated Uncle Aemond for hurting your brothers the night at Driftmark many years ago and for not responding to your countless ravens who sought to apologize and keep broken promises. But because of the love that never ceased beating in your heart, you continued to create reasons for yourself to loathe him. Despite realizing your uncle would never respond, you still sent him letters with the blind hope that someday you would have one addressed from King’s Landing, though if one ever did come, they were from Queen Alicent, and in which you promptly fed them to the fish-eyed billy goats on Dragonstone.

The contents were of anything and everything you could think of. Sometimes, you retold important events like leaving to study at the Citadel and becoming a lady of Queen Esabella of Dorne as a temporary peace bargain for what happened in the Stepstones. Other times, it was your interests, such as a new plant or a medical technique, that you learned and thought would help him with his… ailment.

Though you heard nothing from Aemond, that did not mean you knew nothing about him. You heard rumors that he took to putting a sapphire in his empty eye socket, and while the idea was sure to inspire fear in the hearts of many, it fascinated you, wondering if the gem was smooth and round or jagged and sharp, much like your uncle’s personality. It seemed like him to fashion something such as that as he was always a bit odd, though you never minded it. You imagined the discomfort his wound might cause despite it becoming scarred. From what you understood about those with similar injuries, the person could feel the severed nerves and tissue healing themselves, the sensation like a thousand hot needles in the skin.

It was no wonder why he was gossiped to have such a cold demeanor. You hoped one day you would be allowed to see it yourself, even if you were on the receiving end.

Some of you worried that Aemond never received your letters, thinking you abandoned him and all the promises made in secrecy. Queen Alicent wouldn’t be the one to bar them from him as she most desperately wanted you to visit the Red Keep and mend the bond broken on the night at Driftmark. You didn’t understand why it had to be you to be the one to do so. These were matters created by the ruling adults in your life, and they should have sought to fix them.

Nevertheless, neither you, your parents, nor Queen Alicent tried to mend what occurred between the family. Still, that lack of effort did not extend to your relationship with your uncle. You still wanted to fly with him as you promised some years ago.

“The Conqueror and his sisters sailed with a great army,” Jacaerys translated from High Valyrian, his words proud but still holding a certain waver to his voice now that you weren’t there to assist him.

You stood by one of the tall metal-paned windows in the Chamber of the Painted Table in Dragonstone, the ancient seat of your family, silently mouthing the words of your ancestors’ histories spoken by the Maester in your mother tongue.

The thick, gray clouds outside cast a dull light into the room, creating a somber yet peaceful atmosphere. You and your brother understood that your imposing maternal presence made him nervous and hindered his concentration. Over the years, you developed the habit of speaking over Jace during your studies.

This hadn’t gone unnoticed, leading to reprimands from Maester Gerardys and your mother for not giving your twin a fair chance to learn. You only wished for Jace to be the best version of himself he could be. He was to be your King when Mother passed.

“Se Blākuata Rāsho drāñot vilinio viartis,” (And made landfall at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush) Maester Gerardys conveyed, his words slowed and accent thick to convey their meaning.

The resounding echo of the chamber doors opening filled the air with the unmistakable clang of metal. As they parted, a graceful figure emerged—your mother, adorned in a flowing, vibrant red dress that complemented her regal presence. She moved with a poised and graceful stride, her hand tenderly skimming over her gently swelling belly, radiating an undeniable sense of maternal warmth and affection. Catching your gaze, you offered her a tender smile, and in response, she bestowed upon you a fleeting yet soft expression that spoke volumes of her boundless love without the need for words.

“Drāñot,” your mother asked Jace to repeat, but he stared at her wide-eyed, the words slipping from his mind.

Meeting your mother’s strides to greet her, you answered for him with a bright and eager-to-please smile. “The mouth.”

She flashed a tight-lipped grin and scrunched her nose, lightly nodding as Jace slouched in self-directed disappointment. “Mouth! I knew that, sister. You needn’t answer for me,” he expressed with disappointment, stomping his foot on the ground.

“If you keep speaking for your brother, he will never learn,” your mother lightheartedly scolded as she kissed the top of your head. You have heard those words for the past six years.

If Jace knew the answers, you wouldn’t have to help him, you thought reproachfully.

You did not rush to pay attention to your twin as you knelt beside your younger brothers Aegon, Viserys, and Joffrey. Instead, you focused on the youngest, Viserys. With great tenderness, you gathered him into your lap, the book Elinda brought for them cradled in your hands.

Leaning in close to your half-brother, you whispered. “I will teach you our mother tongue once you learn to speak,” as you lovingly smoothed the silky strands of his blonde hair.

“Drāñot. Drāñot,” your brother repeated, as if the meaning of Maester Gerardys’ words would magically appear in his mind.

“And made landing at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush,” you whispered under your breath so no one would hear, answering for him.

You and Jace were the same age, two bodies with one soul, yet different. You could have helped him more if Mother had not sent you away. You never understood why she separated you instead of betrothing you to Jace. She constantly danced around the notion of marrying for years, which was incomprehensible, seeing as the match was the only option that would make sense. You would rule together, and the realm wouldn’t have the same unrest they did with your mother.

“Perhaps that is enough for today,” your mother offered as Jace became increasingly frustrated with his inability to master High Valyrian.

“No!” He exclaimed ardently, holding his arm as if to stop the suggestion physically. “I-I want to keep going.”

You smirked and flipped the page in the picture book you showed Viserys as he babbled nonsensically, his tiny fists grasping the bound leather. As you touched his plump cheek, he smelled like tallow and lavender.

Your mother allowed Jace to proceed with the bob of her head as Maester Gerardys began again. “Guēsi ropakakson Āegon ūndas.”

“Aegon gave orders for the trees to be felled,” you responded as if the question was directed toward you. Your mother quickly snapped her violet eyes in warning. You were used to that look and continued to tend to the babe like nothing happened, as Jace answered with stutters.

“Aegon… ordered that the trees should be… killed,” he stated proudly. You released a puff of air through your nose that sounded like a laugh as Viserys took the tome with tiny, curious, grabby hands.

“Felled. ‘Tis a related word,” your mother gently corrected as she clasped her hands behind her sturdy back. “I don’t expect you to learn High Valyrian in a day, Jace.”

“A king should honor the traditions of his forebears,” your brother steadfastly declared as you turned with your brows raised, spine cracking.

“That sounds like something your sister would say,” your mother expressed with a slight tightness in her tone. Pursing your lips with guilt, you returned to Viserys, acting as if you weren’t paying attention.

That was precisely what you said to him before your lessons today.

“Unless you plan to depose your mother, you have plenty of time to study,” she teased with a grin like she always did, her happiness becoming contagious as you returned the look over your shoulder. Jace did not share the same enthusiasm as the chamber doors opened again, revealing that of your stepfather strolling down the steps.

You looked to Daemon grimly as he met your mother with a grave expression on his time-worn visage. She declared that you all leave the room as he entered without looking further at you and your siblings. Jace called the young Joffrey to follow him, and you and your mother’s lady took Aegon and Viserys. As you passed your stepfather, he brought his hand out, noiselessly ordering you to stop while handing your mother the sealed letter in his fingers. He traced a calloused knuckle over his son’s cheek and placed a kiss on his crown, purple orbs piercing your dark ones.

He knew of your distaste for him ever since he wed Rhaenyra mere days after your father’s death, refusing to leave your rooms unless necessary. While you never felt like the Velaryon side of your family liked you, they agreed with the unspoken sentiment that Daemon had something to do with your father’s death. You disagreed with the idea that your mother did. She loved your father in her way and, in your mind, wasn’t capable of plotting the murder of her children’s father.

You didn’t outright disrespect Daemon; after all, he was still a prince, but he would never be someone you looked up to or went to in times of strife. He would never be your father, not even as he irritatingly called you daughter and played with the new pearl and sapphire necklace your mother forced you to wear today—a gift from your stepfather.

You understood Daemon only did these things to irk you, refusing to play with the ruse like usual. With no sentences exchanged between you, the Rouge Prince sent you on your way with his offspring wrapped securely in your arms.

“Another raven from Dragonstone, Your Highness,” a Steward announced, holding a rolled piece of parchment sealed with a delicate blue ribbon.

The One-Eyed Prince sat in a green armchair by the hearth, seemingly unbothered, his lithe form in thought and leg crossed over the other. He did not move. His violet eye trained on the flickering orange and blue flames. No words of acknowledgment were said, and the servant placed the letter on the Prince’s foot table as he took a long sip from his goblet in hand.

You were always stubbornly loyal to whoever you cared for, and he thought it rather pathetic, especially when you still sought contact from him after you were met with uncaring silence.

On more than one occasion, his mother attempted to uncover what you said to him, Aemond discovering her rummaging through his writing desk drawers. He met her with an anger he had never felt before, as if she had stolen his most prized jewels.

The Prince told himself that he didn’t care if passersby discovered them. They were inconsequential items containing meaningless ink, and he thought they were a waste of paper until she almost found them. Although he loved his mother dearly, this was something that was Aemond’s, untainted by neither her nor his grandfather’s fingers.

He spent many hours pouring over the subjects you wrote as he battled with the urge to burn your writings, yet desiring to fly to Dragonstone atop the Mighty Vhagar and ensure the oaths you declared in the refined loops of your High Valyrian were indeed true. Aemond never did, only having gotten as close to Driftmark and spotted the glinting silver roof of High Tide before the suffocating feeling inside his chest took hold.

Blood, screams, and horror on your face as he clung to your chest before you crushed the childish hope of being different from the rest of them.

As the Prince grew, he found solace in places he never did before, frequenting the Keep’s gardens and Godswood with Helaena when he wasn’t on the training grounds. He was never fond of the outdoors, preferring the company of a good book curled next to a simmering fire, but he discovered that spending time in those areas brought a sense of contentment, though he was uncertain as to why.

Taking one last sip of his wine, Aemond sat his silver goblet and replaced it with the rolled parchment, licking the sticky remnants away from his lips as he untied the soft satin ribbon.

“Uncle Aemond, I hope this finds you in good health and spirits, as I cannot say the same for myself while writing this. I have overcome a recent bout of melancholia, as Maester Gerardys calls it, and now I’ve heard that Lord Corlys was gravely wounded during an ambush in the Stepstones. Insultingly, Ser Vaemond Velaryon has petitioned the Crown to declare him my Grandsire’s successor upon his passing. This infuriates me to no end. I know if my father were still alive, he would have protected him with his life, and we wouldn’t be having such a discussion. My younger brother will be the next Lord of the Tides since our father is gone. While we may disagree on specific lines of heritage, Luke is my father’s son, and I am his daughter. I find it ironic, however, that a place that haunts him, and you, he will now have to preside over. He shall be forever reminded of the great misdeed he infringed upon you, and I do find a sort of justice in it, but I would never dare to voice such a thing aloud. Luke is my brother, after all. I love him with all my being, but a part of me will never forgive him for what he did to you. I’m sure you feel the same. Mother said we would attend the petition to affirm my brother’s long-decided succession, but we both know the actual cause behind this. I do not enjoy discussing these matters. It boils my dragon blood whenever the false rumors surrounding my birth are brought up. Laenor Velaryon is my father and loved me as such. ‘Tis a fact that will never change no matter what lickspittles and gossipers claim. Oddly, despite its negative connotation and history, I eagerly await my arrival at the Red Keep. Do not think I am forgetful of you. You would not believe me if you knew how often you are in my heart and mind. I hope to see you in good health and that my recommendations for your eye, which I’ve mentioned in previous correspondence, have proven useful. Until we meet.”

Aemond did not know whether to throw your letter into the smoldering fire and watch the flames engulf the tan pages or to rip it into a dozen tiny pieces. He hated you. He loathed you with his entire being as he dangled the parchment over the orange and yellow embers, yet he could not will the rage in his heart to drop it as the heat burned his fist. Aemond welcomed the discomfort, the pain. He grew accustomed to and welcomed it until he felt the water beneath his flesh bubble.

You were no more than a dirty bastard, a daughter of a whore, yet you flaunted riches like a Targaryen princess, unbefitting of your actual status. Aemond did not want to see you ever again, lest it be you groveling on your knees for his forgiveness. It was you who broke the vows and betrayed him, choosing your filthy, Strong brothers over him. He would never forgive you, though seeing you knelt before him as your pretty tears decorated your plump cheeks would be a lovely sight. The Prince felt his cock impulsively swell at the image.

He abhorred you, yet Aemond meticulously placed your letter amidst a collection of others in an exquisitely crafted wooden lockbox adorned with intricate carvings of dragons. As he savored a deep gulp of wine, his gaze fixated on the flickering light evoked by your memories. It brought to mind the recollection of your unique grace, a quality that remained unmatched despite the countless attempts made by him and Aegon to find women of similar allure. The sharpness of his eldest brother’s words and the acrid scent of his breath lingered in his memory as Aegon leaned in on his thirteenth nameday.

“Worry not, brother. We’ll find one that looks like her for you. Time to get it wet.”

Without hesitating, he flung his drink into the fire, extinguishing its voracious flames.

The ground was cold beneath your fingers despite wearing gloves as you pruned the small plot in Aegon’s Garden. Budding crocus dotted the moist area with tiny bursts of purple petals and green stems, withstanding the late winter season. Spring was a moon away, but winter refused to release its clutch on the land, leaving the dirt to keep the frigid dampness that few things could grow in.

Aegon’s Garden was where you found yourself in strife, seeking peace and distraction in your passion. Now, with your mother’s nerves upon hearing that Ser Vaemond Velaryon decided to challenge the line of succession to the Driftwood throne, you felt the heavy burden of the future on your hunched shoulders. You felt bad about the whole situation, from your Grandsire Lord Corlys’s serious injury to the unspoken notion that Vaemond bringing this petition to the Crown was that Lucerys, and by extension, you and Jacaerys were illegitimate. The truth did not matter, not really. It was what those believed or those in power seats told those to think, and it was that you, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey were the offspring of Laenor Velaryon and Rhaenyra Targaryen.

As the King declared, you were next in line to the throne after your mother and Luke for Lord of the Tides after your Grandsire. His word was law, but it was no longer that of a King who sat on the throne but a Queen.

“You should be readying for the journey, Princess. Your mother wants to leave at first light,” Edwina, your most loyal lady, stated. She stood with her broad shoulders squared, hair tucked underneath her white maid’s cap, and hands clasped behind her back. Though she was barely a few years your senior, she acted as if she had decades.

You sighed, rolling your dark eyes in annoyance and sitting on your haunches. You supposed Edwina’s mothering was not unfounded, as your impulsiveness tended to lead you into regret. “I will not be joining my mother and Daemon on the ship. ’Tis much faster on dragon back,” you quipped.

“The Princess wants you all to arrive together,” your lady expressed, taking a few steps closer to show her seriousness.

“To show a united front. Yes, I know Edwina. I could not go,” you teased, smirking, removing your leather gloves finger by finger. “I have no love for the Red Keep, my extended family, or them for me.”

Edwina knew that was a lie. It was evident how she saw you pour over letters addressed to King’s Landing. The maid knew not who the intended recipient was, but there was someone who held a secret place in your heart. The Karstark often wondered if it was Aegon, seeing as a betrothal was whispered in the past, though that idea was quickly squashed after you had an uncharacteristic fit when she voiced it.

“I understand, Your Highness, but duty is sacrifice. Those of your standing must do things in service to your House and family that are against your wants. I do not envy that,” Edwina offered with a half smile of pity as the pair of you entered the benevolent brimstone walls of Dragonstone.

In response, you hummed, linking her strong arm in yours and lowering your head with a look mirrored hers. “This a small price to pay to live a life of privilege.”

The lady nodded in acquiescence as pictures of the poor folk in line for their food rations showed in your mind. Your travels gave you a perspective that your family did not have, forcing you to confront privileges you were unaware existed until they were thrown into your face. You held a sinking feeling inside when you thought of it for days after, guilt gnawing at your heart every time you were draped in lavish dresses of Velaryon blue and adorned with lavish jewels. It sparked you to grow your plot in Aegon’s Garden when you finally returned home and give to those less fortunate despite the odd looks your family gave you.

A similar heavy, sinking weight inside your gut returned as you thought of going to the Red Keep, seeing your uncles and Queen Alicent after what happened at Driftmark. Your guilt and shame felt as prominent as if you were the one who sliced into Aemond’s eye. You tried to reason that he deserved some form of punishment for hurting Baela, Rhaena, and your brothers, but it never worked. Your conscience was too steadfast to allow lies like that to blind you.

Your mother planned on staying in the Red Keep for a night to spend time with her father and to renew her place at court. There was no joy in your heart to learn of her plans as you chose what dresses and jewelry to wear before supper. Though King’s Landing was once your home, it no longer held the wonderous warmth that came with a place of rest. Childhood memories spent there did not come with a smile when you thought of them. Instead, misery came to mind with lingering stares from adults and Aegon and Aeomnd’s relentless teasing regarding your birth.

The cold, briny halls of Dragonstone were your home. Everyone loved you and your kin here, and there was no whispering behind silk fans wherever you went. The only gossip was if you would become with child before or after Princess Rhaenyra betrothed you and Jacaerys.

After you supped with your brothers, mother, and Daemon at night, you lay within thick furs that threatened to let the frigid midnight air in. When you woke to leave, the ground would dust with the crystalline covering of frost, and you knew how Gaeli despised the cold. He would fly at your command regardless, but you would undoubtedly feel his displeasure until he resided in the heat of the Dragonpit.

This petition felt like a dark cloud looming in the distance of a clear sky, promising its threat of a storm as you soared over Blackwater Bay. Despite your mother’s insistence that you ride on the ship with her because of her pregnancy, you choose to take Gaelithox across the water. In turn, that caused your brothers to want to take their dragons to King’s Landing and leave your mother to make the journey with only the comfort of her husband, which you were sure she didn’t mind.

It was customary for the family to make an entrance together and be greeted by the host’s kin, but when you emerged from the wheelhouse that took you from the Dragonpit, its dark caverns still the same, you were greeted by only guards. The lack of forethought and the apparent insult of the Green’s absence sent an icy feeling into your gut, causing you to itch at the skin beneath your black dress.

The gown was not your typical style choice, as it was your Velaryon blue and pearls, but your mother wanted you to wear one of your garments fashioned in the Targaryen colors of black and red with a golden linked belt and rubies to match. She planned to present a united front before the Court and the Greens and, without it said, further solidify her and your siblings’ legitimacy to the throne.

As you stepped out of the carriage with an encouraging inhale, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey, along with the nursemaids carrying Aegon and Viserys, followed after a chill running through the air. You brought your fur-lined cloak closer to your goose flesh arms, shuddering as you observed the Red Keep in all its grandeur. It was as big as you remembered, looking at the tall pale red stone towers, windows, and colliers. You felt small, the unmistakable burn of tears under your eyelids, your nose beginning to run as memories from six years ago flashed inside your mind’s eye.

Luke and Jace came to stand behind you, taking note of your trembling lip and pink cheeks. The youngest of the two was filled with the same anxiety as you and quickly took his hand in yours—a united front. They did not know why you were shaking in your riding boots, squeezing Luke’s fist for comfort as Lord Caswell led your family inside the front gates.

While the red and black banners of House Targaryen were raised on the Keep’s walls, it seemed to be House Hightower that occupied the castle. The Seven-Pointed Star was everywhere you looked throughout the halls that once were Harold with the tapestries of flying dragons, riders bounding with their mounts, now those of the Seven, holy pictures of the Crone and her guiding light, the Maiden with her pure, ethereal beauty, and others of religious importance.

It reminded you of your time in the Citadel in Oldtown, the ancient seat of House Hightower, who aligned themselves closely with the Faith of the Seven. Your family’s relationship with the Septons and Septas was strife until the late King Maegor ruthlessly crushed the Faith Militant Uprising. However, during your stay, you heard whispers from passing Lords and Ladies that the animosity supposedly vanquished long ago was still there, simmering below their fear of House Targaryen and their dragons.

While the Seven did offer you something to soothe your soul in times of unease and explain unanswered things, it didn’t provide you consolation seeing it paraded around grotesquely in place of your House’s history. It churred the feeling of anxious dread in the pit of your stomach as your brothers eagerly left your side to explore the long-forgotten Red Keep.

“I would say it’s nice to be home, but I scarcely recognize it,” your mother said, a slight lilt to her melodic voice and sharing a knowing glance with Daemon.

You stood closely by her side, moist lips tucked in concern as you observed your stepfather’s butter smirk walking before the two of you. You and your mother stayed unmoving for another moment to allow the situation to settle. The abrupt raven, Lord Corlys gravely injured, Princess Rhaenys traveling to King’s Landing, Luke’s legitimacy loudly called to question all happening within a few days was more commotion than you had within the entirety of your stay at Dragonstone. It was a wonder you hadn’t plucked at the hairs of your Crown, your digits twitching and coming to scratch at your scalp.

Suddenly, you felt a shift in the air, unable to name the sensation as you turned to your mother, whose beautiful violet orbs were trained on a series of portraits of your kin. While your King grandsire, stepfather, mother, Queen Alicent, and her children were there, your siblings were not, leaving only the elegant, rectangular golden frame of your countenance in the places of your brothers. You felt your heart drop and glanced at your mother with wide, curious eyes.

This meant too many things. Not only was it an insult to your mother and siblings to have all but their pictures, but the fact that it was only you there out of the six of you. It was no doubt Queen Alicent’s doing as you forced yourself to swallow a lump in your throat. The tears you kept at bay reemerged as your fingers dug under your black mesh veil, rolling the fine dark hairs at the nape of your neck between the pads of your thumb and forefinger.

Swiftly, your mother took your wrist, soothingly rubbing your knuckles as she gave you a brief yet wistful smile. “Why don’t you find the Godswood, yes? I shall meet you there shortly.”

You bobbed your head stiffly, willing your tears and trepidations to quiet as you rubbed at your damp lashes. “Yes, Mother,” you responded in kind with a sniffle.

You found yourself within nature as you always did in times of strife, gazing up into the crimson leaves of a Weirwood, the soft rustle of branches reminding you of inaudible whispers. They were hard to make with the sky’s brightness, only to see the fuzzy outlines with the gray clouds, but they comforted you. The Old Gods watched you with their unseen eyes as your fingertips traced the rough bark grass crunching beneath your boots.

The Godswood was the only place within the Keep’s grounds that did not cause you significant stress, as only fond memories of your times with Helaena catching insects and playing games with Jace and Luke filled your mind. You had no desire to return to King’s Landing despite being away for so long. It felt as if no time could heal the irreparable wounds caused within these walls and the person who did it.

Many rumors spread throughout the realm and to your little island of Dragonstone from the smallfolk, whispering that Prince Aegon’s appetite for depravity did not curb after his marriage to Princess Helaena. The people said it increased tenfold as the Prince was spotted frequenting the gambling houses, brothels, and illegal fighting pits. It seemed fitting for your eldest uncle’s character to become the worst of something he was supposed to make the best of.

You could only think of the innocent children sired into this world without their mother’s consent and then put into the fighting pits so that Aegon and other highborns could have their entertainment. When you are Queen, you shall kill every man or woman who dares to share the same interests as your uncle. You would not willingly allow such depravity under your rule. No amount of coin from such establishments could be worth it to keep the economy afloat.

The soft crunching of late winter grass caused you to jump, tearing from your thoughts as you turned to see your grandmother, Princess Rhaenys. You bestowed her with a deep curtsy and smile, coming to greet her with open arms.

“Grandmother!” you called with unspoken joy in your tone. “Tis a pleasure to see you after so long.”

She extended a tight-lipped smile that looked like a grimace, and you felt deflated. “I wish I could share the same unwitting joy you do, seeing as my Lord Husband lays battling with the Stranger.”

You lowered your arms with chagrin and took a few paces back as you felt the sting of tears resurface. “Apologies, my lady. I did not mean for my joy at seeing my father’s mother to make light of the gravity this day brings.”

She chuckled wryly at your words, shaking her head as she looked to the Weirwood tree behind you. Following her gaze, you moved from her path as she took steps forward. There were so many things you wanted to say to her, to scream to her how much you loved your father and wished for those involved with his death to pay as you twirled his signet ring on your middle digit.

Princess Rhaenys looked to you in the serene noiselessness of the Godswood, the chill in the wind causing you to shiver, gaze drifting to where you worked the gold around your knuckle. She said nothing with her mouth. She needn’t, as you could see it written plainly in the deep wrinkles lining the corners of her eyes. The Princess felt the same but would never admit it aloud to a… bastard.

“I shall leave you in peace, Princess,” you bowed again, walking with less brightness into the Keep as you left the one person you could speak about your father to.

You felt like an imbecile for what you said, even though any grandparent should feel the same glee you did at their grandchildren’s arrival. A hot wave of embarrassment seared your insides, causing you to dig the heels of your palms into your eye sockets, ripping your veil off in anger. You didn’t care about the beautifully plated hair your ladies created, scraping your nails into your scalp to feel the threadlike texture of your bothersome strands that ached to be released as you ran blindly through the stone halls.

There had been times when Aemond had forgotten who you were, your smile, your laugh, your eyes, who your birth father was, and the sweet kisses you bestowed on him alone in his chambers. That is why he reasoned that he was surprised to see a woman grown and no longer a girlish figure with a short, flat torso and legs. Instead, it was a lady with the slope of your neck dripping with rubies and dragonglass barely hidden beneath the crevasse of your swelling bosom.

Your eyes were all he could think about from the moment you emerged from the second wheelhouse. A scared, almost dovelike look to them as he watched Luke and Jace come to your side.

Good, he thought. You all should be terrified. Yet he did not hold the same conviction as his stare drifted back to you.

The Prince thought you were so small and fragile from a distance as he observed you leave the Godswood, an arch to your dark brows that seemed to be in pain. He thought there should be nothing within your perfect ideal life to be so torn about and wanted to give you a reason to be upset. Aemond planned to spit all the vitriol he held within these six years as you rounded the corner, and yet, as Aemond held you within his bruising grasp, you stared at him with such fire beneath unshed tears.

The passageway Aemond cornered you into carried a chill seeping in from the outside as he saw your cheeks redden in ire. Your moist, plump lips slightly parted to breathe as he dug his blunt nails into your biceps. He felt his breeches become impossibly tighter as you swallowed, darting your pink tongue out in nervousness, much to his frustration.

Aemond was no longer the sun-kissed Prince with wide amethyst eyes full of light. His plush, boyish face had slimmed in the time lost and turned into one of hardened maturity with a sharp nose and chiseled jaw that came to a point with thin pink lips. His countenance resembled the statues you saw in Dorne as you felt his strong hands dig into your muscles like he wanted to tear at your essence. You felt your body weaken against your will, succumbing to the emotions you felt for your uncle in your youth, but resolved to stay firm against his intimidation. There were still hints of the Aemond you briefly knew in your childhood, the one that kept that night a secret still to this day.

“Unhand me, Aemond!” you spat as if he had swiped filth across your face, a deep wrinkle on your forehead.

Aemond wanted to laugh despite your seriousness as he pressed you further against the pale red stone wall, uncaring if Princess Rhaenys heard your cries. You dropped your headpiece in your struggles and attempted to retrieve it before your uncle’s piercing grip righted you again.

“Must I?” he quipped, his stomach churning with excitement as the familiar scent of citrus and something darker wafted into his nose. “You’re a strong lady. I’m certain you can overpower me.”

Aemond allowed his gaze to roam over your face as you scoffed with a squirm. He wanted you to be ugly, for you to become the personification of all the wrongs your family committed against him, to be the picture of the betrayal he felt for you choosing them over him on that dreadful night. Up close, he unwillingly realized you were what the smallfolk claimed you to be. The picture of the Maiden though he knew you were anything but. Aemond wondered what they would think should the people discover your true nature.

“You believe yourself a true Velaryon, do you not? The Old, the True, the Brave,” he asked, his voice low and menacing. His face was so close to yours that you could see the intricate stitchings of his brown leather eyepatch. You wondered if he wore his sapphire today. “Your hair is decorated with gold and pearls, fingers adorned with jewels, and wrapped in lavish dresses. Yet beneath all the decadence you wear, you are still nothing more than Strong.”

His insults meant nothing as you realize your uncle felt the same inner turmoil. Why else would he speak such prose of your being? He loathed and loved you in the same breath, something he fought to keep inside.

“Do not hide behind cruel words, Aemond. I see you as you are.” A delicate hand came to cup his marred cheek, the smooth pads of your fingers tenderly stroking the plunging indentation through his skin. You wished to get through to him, to tell him that despite the rift between your families, you cared for him. He could still be your Mors Martell.

The Prince felt himself crack, an unconscious twitch of his lip that he disguised as a sneer. Aemond felt a sensation he fought to keep at bay since he was disabled, struggling to hide the way memories from long ago clouded his mind. Instead, the Prince focused on how you inhaled a sharp breath when his hand left your arm and came to your face, jerking it towards his as Aemond lost your tender touch. He would swear upon his death that he saw your eyes dilate a fraction too much for it to be the shadow of the torchlight.

Wondering then if the rumors were true that you and your twin had a closer relationship, he brought his other fist to encircle your waist, trailing it down the back of your plump thigh until he forced it to wrap around his hip. A part of Aemond was sure you would scream for help as you did when he found you with Aegon, but no words escaped your moist lips.

“You hurt me, my light. Can I not simply bask in the presence of my long-lost dream?” he mocked and realized that he might have gone too far as he felt your body stiffen and face blanched. The expression on your visage reminded him of the times he saw wounded soldiers return from minor village uprisings, the bloodshed changing their perspectives.

The Prince understood that there was no returning from what he said, seeming to have flipped an unseen switch inside you at the mention of his mother’s petname for you. Your lips began to tremble on their own volition, and you abruptly noticed the striking resemblance between Aemond and his older brother. The most venomous expression you could muster curled onto your face, hiding your fright and not allowing him to hold power over you any longer.

“Don’t insult my intellect, Aemond. I know what disgusting thoughts play inside your mind, and they intimidate me for naught. You are more alike to Aegon than you allow,” you jeered. You knew what to say to wound him, to compare him to his wastrel of an older brother who raped innocent serving girls and his kin.

Unable to help your wandering eyes, you watched how your uncle’s pink tongue moved within his mouth, how the wetness glistened with the flick of his ire.

“And what of you?” Aemond rebuked. “You cannot simply only be close siblings. The dragon’s blood runs thick and even more so between twins.”

You were silent, leaving only the faint rustling of nature in the distance wrapped around the pair of you like a rope, tightening against your skin and pulling you and Aemond closer. Despite the frigid weather, it became hot, sweat collecting on your upper lip and nape. All Aemond could hear was the fierce rhythm of your breathing, his eye wandering down to the elegant necklace perched on your chest.

“You spout baseless, vile accusations of your kin that have made lesser men lose their lives,” you rebuked, fists coming to clutch at his jerkin and wrapping your digits in the green leather as if you meant to fight him.

“Perhaps,” he breathed with an air of superiority, “but I don’t believe it to be treason to question your morals,” he replied coolly, his light brow quirking with his tone of practiced impassivity.

The Prince was stunned into silence when your tiny, delicate palm echoed off his marred cheek. It was not the force that shocked him, but rather the notion that you did it despite the threat of violence.

For a brief moment, white, hot pain seared at his left temple and into his skull as he turned to you and saw an expression of regret. Aemond felt the heat on his cheek and smirked. He knew you intended to hurt him by striking him on his injured side and now understood how to cripple you as Luke did him. It would always be your beloved family—your weakness.

The lamb bit as fiercely as the wolf, Aemond mused. You may not be as frail as he thought.

Excitement curled the Prince’s toes at the whimper that escaped your lips as he used his strength around your throat, perfectly styled hair fraying on the stone. Your once flat irises now burst with life as they darted across Aemond’s lean form in brief terror, a proud grin wrinkling his eyes.

“You ignorant bitch,” he declared, pressing himself closer, his hand firm around you despite attempting to pry them off. His other limb reached down, shifting you to the tips of your toes as he dropped your leg. Though fruitless, he reveled in the terror that washed over your features as you attempted to fight him. He wouldn’t dishonor you, but all that mattered was that you did not.

Aemond felt disgusted at his actions, believing for a moment that you were right about him, that he was indeed the same as Aegon, yet in different colored clothes.

“I’ll scream. Just as I did that night.”

“Then do it and let the whole Keep think worse of you,” the Prince mocked, bearing his white teeth. “I shall say it was you who seduced me, and who will they believe? The King’s second son or the bastard daughter who fucks her brother?”

He could feel your humid breath against his face, fanning the spot where you had struck him. Aemond stared at this vicious yet adored creature in his grip as he concealed his insecurities with the intimating tilt of his head as if examining a new book. His violet eye traced the ink, waiting for your next move. The Prince would have you think him to be Aegon if it meant fucking his spend into you no matter how undeserving you were of it. Perhaps you would finally see what the true seed of a dragon looks like. Aemond grinned with his unspoken words and felt satisfaction with the anger he stoked in your eyes.

“You will let me go. Now,” you demanded, pushing against your uncle as you struggled for purchase.

“And then what will you do? Run? Men in King’s Landing are not as kind as I when they see a distressed lady.” Your jaw ached, feeling like a rabbit cornered by a fox as a familiar and unwelcomed primal warmth blossomed between your thighs.

You wanted to threaten him, to say that you would feed Aemond to your dragon or poison him in his sleep, but nothing came to mind besides the smell of too-sweet wine and the taste of dried dates. Memories came from that night, as you felt yourself becoming faint, the will to fight to leave you just as it did with Aegon as powerless tears welled on your lashes. You were a fool to think Aemond would see past his injustice for the sake of the past and resign yourself to whatever fate he chooses for you.

There was no point in fighting. Once again, you were at the mercy of your uncle, and you only prayed that this one would be gentle.

The Prince no longer felt proud of his actions as he watched your body recoil into itself. There was something in your eyes that Aemond couldn’t name as he looked between them, feeling himself slowly pulled into their depths as he did the night after Aegon. The Prince wasn’t going to hurt you, not really. He was young and foolish, but not to the extent that he would commit an act of one of the highest sins.

As if the mother herself took mercy on you, the soft murmur of voices down the hall echoed into your and Aemond’s ears. You could not hide your smirk as he stared into you with a deep scowl on his porcelain face. Whatever plans he had, they crumbled like dead leaves underneath your boots as your mother and step-sister came. Taking his momentary distraction to your advantage, you shoved against the hardened planes of his chest, your sudden rush of strength knocking Aemond off balance as you retrieved your forgotten headpiece.

Soon, they came into view, their destination no doubt being that of the Godswood as you fixed your disrupted attire. You couldn’t help the grin that pulled at your plump cheeks as you saw your uncle’s scowl, taking a few paces to reach them. You seemed the proper princess to the outside, greeting them with a quick embrace and your chin high.

Rhaena acted like Aemond wasn’t there. Only the uncomfortable shift of her shoulders revealed she noticed him while your mother extended a short but polite acknowledgment before he stalked away without proper dismissal.

“What did he do to you?” your step-sister pointedly questioned, scanning your form for any injury.

You looked at her in what you hoped was a confused yet grateful expression and not one of guilt. “Prince Aemond merely wanted to make amends for the lack of presence at our arrival. I do not believe him to be sincere.”

Your mother smirked her delicate peony lips, releasing a scoff of disbelief as she shook her styled hair. She closed the space between you and tenderly grasped your shoulders as she scanned your form for injury.

“Do not let them get to you. They seek only pride and glory,” your mother declared steadfastly, a vibrancy you had never seen before in her amethyst eyes.

Nodding in acquiescence, you extended another brief embrace before you excused yourself, wanting nothing more than for this day to end as you went to search for your brothers.

You needed Jace—to feel the comfort only your twin could give after facing the scars of the past. Before reaching your destination, you felt an iron-like grip across your upper arm, pulling you into a secluded alcove. You feared the worst, that someone planned to harm you and that your last words to your mother would be lies.

“You are quick, niece,” Aemond whispered haughty into your ear, causing you to drop your headpiece in fright, “but that quickness will do you no good in King’s Landing. Your whore mother has no hold here.”

Just as quickly as your uncle took you, he released you with a shove. You wanted to bite with some clever or witty remark but thought of none. Tears of embarrassed frustration welled in your eyes as you spun on your heel, ignoring the tickle on your wrist like something had touched it.

As Aemond watched your womanly form retreat, dark eyes trailing over your curves, he did not feel the satisfaction he believed the interaction would create, spotting your discarded veil on the flagstone floor. He stared at it for a long moment, tracing the intricately sewn beads as he picked it up.

Unsure of what came over him, he brought it to his nose, the scent of citrus flooding his senses and into the blood that engorged his cock. He was able to appreciate the feminine quality of your fragrance fully. Your aroma was refreshing and rounded, sweet but complex and deep simultaneously, similar to the limes that garnished drinks during the Keep’s summer gatherings, but with floral, herbal, and resinous undertones.

With a guttural noise, the Prince tightened his grip on the headpiece, channeling all his hatred towards your family into his clenched fist and tucked it into his jerkin. He swiftly went to the training session with Cole, hoping the knight wouldn’t see through his façade before witnessing the impending downfall he believed your family deserved.

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Sooooo, what did we think about their reuniting? Just two mentally ill and horny young adults. XD I originally wanted the whole meeting with Aemond again, the petition, and the dinner scene to be all in one chapter, but that was waaaaaay too much. I split them up to get those infamous scenes in the next chapter. I'm excited. It's gonna be juicy!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you so much for reading! (⁠ ⁠´⁠◡⁠‿⁠ゝ⁠◡⁠`⁠)

I wanted to briefly give credit to @targaryenrealnessdarling, and their fic The Blood is Rare for inspo of the setting when Aemond and the reader meet for the first time. However, I did change things to make it my own. They have a lot of Aemond fics that will surely quench your thirst as y'all wait for the next chapter. (⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠)

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp, @britt-mf, @marvelescvpe, @haikyuusboringassmanager, @discofairysworld, @lottiemsgf , @nessjo @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist , *@p45510n4f4shi0n, @theendlessvoidofdarkest , @readerselegance , @gothamgurl2024 , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @vaylint , @ln8118 , @prettyduckling22 , @primroseluna

*bold means I can't tag you for some reason ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡

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cometblaster2070 · 5 months

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i've spoken before on raven and darling and how they're such good foils to each other, but i really, really just want to emphasize this scene right here because it makes me LOSE it.

(also please don't mind maddie and her expressions)

i personally love the way darling looks at raven in the first panel, because you can see her confusion there. everyone knows that apple and raven are best friends forever despite all their differences, and everyone knows just how much apple and raven care for each other, and how they would do anything for each other.

but i really love how this is framed because you can see darling looking at the way raven looks at apple; with so much longing, with so much sorrow, so much hurt, and so much love, and you can just see it click for her in the next panel.

the way she's questioning it at first, the way she's thinking for a second that that is not the way you would look at someone who's 'just a friend'.

and then the resignation and the sadness in the next moment, where i think darling realizes 'oh, we're both in the same boat; we're both in love with apple white'.

and i love that look of mixed pity and camaraderie; that look that shows that darling knows what raven's going through and what she's feeling (even if raven herself may not understand it right now) because she's also in love with apple.

of course there's just plain sadness because she feels bad for raven, whose best friend is currently in her magical coma, and it makes sense why she would sympathize with raven for that.

but i personally like to see it in the light that darling's heart is torn realizing that they're both stuck here, next to the girl they love, a love that will probably remain unrequited because (at this point yk) daring's supposed to be apple's prince, and apple herself will never know about how they feel, and apple will never return either of their feelings.

to cut it short, it's darling looking at raven looking at apple and thinking "oh my god i thought i was the only gay bitch in love with apple white".

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chvoswxtch · 2 years

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just started the punisher & absolutely in love with how you write frank castle. i’m already a huge simp and NEED a bodyguard!frank x reader fic where the reader gets a lil tipsy & likes to run away from him? ofc she runs into trouble with other guys at the bar and immediately regrets losing frank but he comes in at the right time?

if not i totally understand and will continue to binge all of your fics!!

-thor ✨🥰

thor!!! my sweet sparkly angel baby god of thunder!!! ✨

you're so PRECIOUS. thank you so much, and thank you so much for the request. I can't believe I hadn't thought of bodyguard!frank before like...you're a genius. I left this one kinda open ended bc I wasn't sure exactly what kind of relationship we were going for between frankie & reader, so I kept it subtle BUT as always, if you want more just let me know. 😏 ❤️

warning: contains violence and mentions of blood (frankie is the punisher after all), swearing, mentions of alcohol, & mentions of harassment (if this makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to skip!) word count: 3k

it's my job.

[next chapter] | [series masterlist]

You should’ve listened. He told you to stay close. He told you not to have that sixth drink. He told you to stay where he could see you. But you didn’t listen.

Why hadn’t you fucking listened?

Because he frustrated you. Because he was all stone cold gazes and silence. Because he ignored you like he was paid to do that instead of protecting you. Because his eyes were always over you or around you, but never on you.

Because you had a school girl crush on your body guard and you couldn’t figure out why.

Well, you knew part of that why. He was incredibly handsome in a rugged way. He was big and broad and looked like he could snap you in half with his bare hands if he wanted. You’d seen him crack a smile once, not at you of course, but another one of the guys that was assigned to you, and God was it beautiful. It softened his face in a way that made you stupid, and that was probably why you had made the dumbass decision that you had.

You weren’t a damsel in distress by any means, but you’d certainly play the part if it meant Frank Castle was coming to your rescue.

The plan was simple. Slip away from Frank at the bar, find a random guy to flirt with, wait for Frank to find you, and finally be his center of attention. Simple, right?

Wrong. Very wrong.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Frank had turned his head for one second, and you were gone, giggling to yourself as you pictured the pissed off look on his face. Were you being a brat? Absolutely. But as pretty as Frank was, he was also a huge dick most of the time. It was only fair to return the favor considering he had been driving you crazy for months now. Tipsy you had completely justified your actions, and you agreed with her.

It didn’t take long to find an unsuspecting player in your little game. He had a godawful smirk on his face that definitely wasn’t as attractive as he thought it was, and clearly screamed ‘no one’s ever told me no in my entire life’. That should’ve been red flag number one. His overconfidence was as nauseating as the sound of his voice, but you reminded yourself you had a game to win. You subtly kept glancing around for Frank, wondering what the hell was taking so long. All of a sudden, Jason…Jake…whatever the hell his name was-decided to invite his entire frat house apparently to crash your little party.

That was when the chaos started.

They all crowded around you in a corner in the back, completely blocking your view from the rest of the bar. You started to feel a little nervous, realizing that if you couldn’t see Frank, he couldn’t see you. That thought, along with the ravenous gaze in each of the men’s eyes, completely sobered you up. You didn’t like their lingering stares. You didn’t like how close they all were. This wasn’t fun anymore. It wasn’t a game. It was a mistake.

“I-I think I should go find my friend. Excuse me.”

“Whoa, where you going, princess? I thought we were your friends?”

The ringleader didn’t hide the path of his eyes as they traveled down your body, and it made you feel sick. His friends snickered as they moved in closer towards you, not bothering to hide their shameless gazes either.

“What, you don’t like us anymore?”

Think. Think. Think.

Don’t piss them off.

Play along.

Be smart.

You attempted your best polite smile, shaking your head slowly as you tried to find a gap between their bodies.

“Just wanna make sure no one sends a search party and ruins the fun. I’ll be right back.”

You tried not to move too quickly as you went to step between two of them, but a tight grip on your wrist yanked you backwards against an uncomfortable chest.

“Why don’t you just text them later. C’mon, don’t be difficult.”

There was a fear bubbling up in your chest and your throat felt tight. God why hadn’t you just fucking listened to Frank? Where the hell was he? You just wanted to go home. You sent a silent prayer up to whoever was listening that you’d never do anything stupid like this again if you could just go home.

“You’re hurting me.”

You winced, not from the weakness in your own voice, but from the harsh orchestra of laughter at your words. You felt like a lamb trapped in a circle of wolves. The horrid feeling of the man’s hand caressing your face caused your fingers to tremble, whimpering slightly as his hand gripped your jaw tightly when you tried to turn away from his touch.

“What’s the matter, princess? Don’t like it rough?”

“Frank?!”

If he couldn’t see you, maybe he could at least hear you.

“That’s not my name, baby. Don’t worry, we can practice you screaming it later. I promise, it’ll be the only one you remember after I-”

A high pitched yelp rang loudly in your ears and it took a couple of seconds to realize that it came from the man that was grabbing you. Blinking a few times, you stared dumbfounded as you realized Frank had pinned his arm behind his back in a very painful looking position and had slammed his face into the closest wall.

“You put this fuckin’ hand where it don’t belong again, and I’m gonna break it. You got that?”

Frank must have done something to prove his point, because the man cried out as he furiously tried to nod his head that was trapped against the wall.

“Fuck…y-yeah, yeah I got it! Just fucking let go!”

As Frank released him and took a step backwards, the man fervently turned around, ready to strike until he took in the look on Frank’s face. There was pure fear in that man’s eyes, and you could’ve sworn you saw him gulp as he quickly took a step backwards. He looked comically small compared to Frank. It fueled something within you to see him look so small and fragile. Frank turned his head slightly to shoot a warning look to the others, one they quickly responded to by taking a step back and holding their hands up in surrender.

Shooting one last glare to the ring leader, Frank finally turned around to face you. A shiver tumbled down your spine at the fury burning in his eyes. He was pissed.

“You alright?”

The tone of his voice was so harsh and gruff it almost hurt your ears, having the complete opposite effect it normally did. You brought your trembling hand up and held your wrist against your chest, trying to ignore the sting of pain you felt as you cast your eyes downward and nodded.

You jumped slightly when you felt the warm weight of Frank’s palm on your arm, noticing the way his face fell ever so slightly as he recognized the terror in your eyes. He gave your arm a gentle squeeze, nodding his head towards your wrist.

“Lemme see.”

If Frank was pissed before, he was fucking enraged now. Allowing him to hold out your wrist to inspect it, his jaw immediately hardened when he saw the faint outline of fingerprints blooming on your skin in light shades of maroon.

“Fuckin’ piece of shit.”

Before you had a chance to stop him, Frank’s fist was colliding with the man’s jaw, causing you to wince as you heard it crack like thunder across the sky in a violent storm. You could hear one of his ribs shattering like glass as Frank landed a powerful blow to his chest, grunting as he dragged him back up by his collar.

“Thought you liked it rough, huh? You pussyin’ out on me now?”

The man feebly tried to push at Frank’s chest to create some distance. He would’ve had better luck trying to knock down a brick wall with his bare hands. His friends stood stunned in place by Frank’s wrath, paralyzed with horror as their fearless leader sobbed and pleaded for mercy.

“You like putin’ your hands on women, yeah? That make you feel big? Make you feel like a man?”

Frank’s voice boomed in your ears the louder he got. There was a frenzied look in his eyes, and you’d lost count of how many times his fist had collided with various parts of the man’s body.

“Frank, please.”

Frank’s unrelenting fist paused midair at the sound of your voice, head snapping in your direction. He wasn’t going to stop unless you begged him to. You could see it in his eyes.

“I wanna go home. Please, Frank. Please take me home.”

A muscle feathered in his jaw as he glanced between you and the man whose bloodied face was now unrecognizable. Grabbing onto his jaw roughly, the man whimpered as a fresh stream of blood leaked from his mouth. Frank leaned in close, staring directly into the eye that wasn’t swollen shut as he growled lowly.

“You ever come near her again, or I hear anythin' ‘bout you putin’ your hands on another woman, I’ll fuckin’ make you scream. And it’ll be the last goddamn thing you do. You got that?”

Frank didn’t wait for an answer. He swiftly guided you out with his hand on your lower back, ignoring the horrified looks from everyone as they parted for him like the red sea. The slam of the passenger door caused you to jump, buckling yourself in with trembling hands as Frank sped out of the parking lot like a madman.

You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t face the rage on his face and the disappointment in his eyes. One glance in his direction had you immediately turning away. His fist was coated in the man’s blood as it gripped onto the steering wheel, crimson almost gleaming under the moonlight as it dripped down his wrist. You pushed it too far. You pushed him too far.

The entire drive home was silent. You desperately wanted to get out and get away from him. How were you ever supposed to look at him again? He was probably going to quit after what you did. How could you have been so reckless? So stupid? You stared at your reflection in the side mirror.

Well, you got what you wanted.

As soon as his truck pulled into the driveway you were unbuckling yourself and dashing out towards the front door. Your fingers trembled as you struggled with the lock, heart thrashing in your ribcage hearing Frank’s heavy boots pounding angrily against the concrete. He silently reached around you to grab the keys, turning the lock and shoving the door open angrily as you rushed through the threshold.

His large hand caught your arm before you could disappear into your bedroom, spinning you around quickly as he stared down at you furiously.

“Why do you gotta always be so goddamn difficult? Why can’t you just do what the fuck I ask, when I ask it?”

“Frank-”

“You are a fuckin’ relentless pain in my ass, you know that? You got any idea what coulda happened to you? What they woulda done? Is that what you want?”

“No, I-”

“Because that woulda been on me. Somethin’ happens to you, it’s on me. It don’t matter that you’re a goddamn spoiled brat that can’t fuckin’ listen to save her fuckin’ life, it’s my ass. You get that? Or are you so goddamn selfish, you can’t see past yourself?”

He was right. You knew he was right. You had been selfish. You could’ve gotten yourself seriously hurt, or worse. You could’ve gotten Frank hurt or worse. And for what? Because he did his job too well? Because he wouldn’t entertain your bullshit? A lump of regret caught in your throat and you could feel guilt brimming along your waterline. You were a selfish, spoiled brat to him. That’s all he saw you as, and would ever see you as, because that was all you had proven to him. He probably hated you, and that thought alone is what finally broke you.

“I’m sorry, Frank. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-I wasn’t thinking. I was being stupid. I…I was being selfish. If you hadn’t been there…I don’t…I can’t…”

You shuddered as you thought about how that sentence would end. You didn’t even wanna think about it. You realized in that moment how complacent you had gotten because of Frank. He was always there. The thought of someone getting past him never even occurred to you. There was never a chance for anyone to get too close to you until you created one.

Frank paused his irritated pacing, his face softening as he heard the remorse that cracked through your voice. Your hands were trembling as you choked words out through your heavy tears, and for the first time that night he thought about how scared you must have been. He glanced at the bruises that marked your wrist and let out a deep exhale through his nose. You were a pain in the ass, but he knew you hadn’t intended for tonight to happen. You could be careless sometimes, but not enough to put yourself in that situation.

Frank took a few cautious steps forward, placing his hands delicately on your shoulders.

“Hey, breathe. Everythin’s alright, yeah? You’re home. You’re alright. Just…breathe for me, sweetheart.”

“I’m so sorry, Frank-”

Frank let out another deep sigh as he pulled you in close, hugging your head against his chest as he gently rubbed your back.

“Hey…hey, I know. I know you didn’t mean for it to happen. Look, it’s over, yeah? Don’t matter anymore. Just focus on breathin’ for me.”

“You could’ve gotten hurt, and I-”

Frank pulled back slightly as he cupped your jaw delicately, searching your eyes with confusion knit between his dark brows. It felt drastically different than when that man had grabbed your face earlier. Frank’s fingers were rough, but they were soft as they touched you. Frank would never hurt you. His full lips were pursed in almost a pout as he searched your eyes, and it was the first time you were able to look at them so closely. They were a breathtaking shade of chocolate brown, and looked so different when he wasn’t angry. His entire face was different when he let that brooding mask slip.

After a beat of silence, the edge of his mouth curved in the tiniest of smirks as his eyes lit up with mischief.

“The hell you worryin’ ‘bout me for? I’m the one protectin’ you, ya’know.”

“I don’t make that easy.”

“No, you don’t.”

There was a somewhat playful tone to the normal edge of his voice. He was trying to make you feel better, but you didn’t feel like you deserved it.

“And I could’ve gotten us both hurt because of it.”

Frank had expected you to banter back with him. You always had some smartass comeback ready to fire, and he secretly enjoyed it. But the dejection in your voice made him worry he’d been too hard on you earlier. A bigger part of him was nervous that he’d scared you in the bar, and that gnawed at the pit of his stomach.

“Have I ever let a single thing happen to you?”

“No, but-”

“Do you think I ever would?”

“No, but Frank-”

“Good. My job is to protect you. I don’t need you worryin’ ‘bout me, sweetheart. I can take a lot more than you give me credit for. What I do need is you to worry ‘bout yourself, and listen. I don’t tell you shit to be a hardass or try to control you. It’s to keep you safe. You got that?”

“Yes, Frank.”

“So, we understand each other now? You gonna start listenin’?”

“I will, I promise.”

“Attagirl.”

Frank granted you a miniscule smile as he wiped a stray tear away from your cheek, and a tiny surge of pride flowed through you at his praise. You wanted more of that. You gently wrapped your hand around his wrist, finding yourself unable to break his mesmerizing gaze.

“I don’t ever want anything like tonight to happen again.”

“That makes two of us.”

“I was really scared, Frank.”

“Did I scare you?”

Frank’s voice was quieter as he voiced his inquisition, and you could hear the vulnerability laced in it. You quickly shook your head, holding onto his wrist a little tighter.

“I wasn’t scared of you, Frank. I never have been. I was scared I wouldn’t be able to find you. That you wouldn’t be able to find me. That I…might never see you again.”

“I’ll always find you, sweetheart. I promise.”

You thought you liked how your name sounded coming from Frank’s mouth, and God you did, but sweetheart…yeah you liked that much better.

“Frank-”

“Go get some sleep. We’ll talk in the mornin’.”

“Are you leaving?”

Frank quirked one of his brows as he looked at you, a smile ghosting over his mouth so fast you had to convince yourself you hadn’t imagined it.

“Kinda defeats the purpose of body guardin’ if I ain’t here to guard your body, yeah? And since someone can’t manage to keep herself outta trouble, can’t really take any chances.”

Something about that sentence had heat violently spreading across your cheeks, and traveled very far downwards. You nodded your head quickly, trying to will your brain to remember how to speak as you cleared your throat.

“Right…um…guest room is-”

“Across from yours, I remember.”

“Um…goodnight, Frank.”

“Night, sweetheart.”

You flashed him a tight lipped smile, trying to gather yourself as you turned around and headed towards your bedroom. What a fucking night. As you opened your bedroom door, you paused for a second and turned around, only to find Frank still in the same spot you had left him, watching you closely. He turned his body to face you expectantly, cocking his head slightly to the side in question.

“Thank you.”

Frank’s hand twitched slightly as his side, giving you a slight nod.

“It’s my job, sweetheart.”

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle request #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher request #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series

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