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sansaorgana · 7 months ago

Text

— DAMAGED GOODS

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader // Rabban/Harkonnen!OC

SUMMARY — The servants have been telling Baron Harkonnen many times before that the relationship between his young heir and his twin sister is close. Very close. Too close. The Baron only chuckles at that. He couldn’t care less, as long as Feyd-Rautha is a warrior he wants him to be and his sister remains out of his sight.

REQUEST — (1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The Reader is a Rabban/Harkonnen. I've described some of her looks – her skin is pale but not because she is *white* but because they're all pale (due to the pollution and lack of normal sunlight I guess). She has hair but it's white. I didn't describe the structure of her hair or anything and the colour is caused by the lack of pigment. Her facial features are not described in any way. Oh, and she has black teeth, too... 😁 It will be explained in the fic. I tried to make it an x Reader fic but, yeah, quite a lot about her looks is described. On the other hand, I hope it's understandable since she's Feyd's twin. I am very happy that I received this request because I've been itching to write something like that for a long time. 🤍

WARNINGS — INCEST, SMUT, non/dub-con, breeding

WORD COUNT — 6,610

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

DAMAGED GOODS

Baron Harkonnen was ready to leave Lankiveil with his two nephews – small Feyd-Rautha in one of the female servants’ arms and teenage Glossu on whose shoulder The Baron was keeping his hand on. He didn’t have any heirs of his own so one day he’d name one of the boys his Na-Baron and give them his Harkonnen surname.

They nearly reached the ship when one of the female servants of Lankiveil ran up to them with a small bundle in her arms.

“My Lord,” she called out and The Baron turned around, irritated. The woman was terrified of him but she still had her duties. “What about the girl, my Lord?” She asked.

The Baron squinted his eyes at the child in her arms. Feyd-Rautha’s twin sister (Y/N) Rabban – he had no use for her.

“Give her to the Bene Gesserit or kill her, I do not care,” he commented as Glossu’s muscles stiffened under his uncle’s touch.

“She is my sister,” his eyes widened at those words. “Please, let her come with us.”

“You will soon realise that women on Giedi Prime hold no significance. A girl…” Baron Vladimir winced. “I do not wish to raise her. She will be a burden.”

“Then I will raise her. I will take care of her,” Glossu pleaded. “And one day you will find her a match, someone to marry to create a powerful alliance. She will be useful,” he kept convincing.

The Baron wanted to be feared even amongst his family members. But he didn’t want to be hated by his older nephew from the first day. Irritated, he sighed and waved his hand at the maid.

“Fine, I shall take her,” he sighed.

Hesitantly, the maid handed the child to Glossu Rabban as his uncle gave him a scolding look.

“You’re responsible for her now,” he reminded.

“She is my sister. Her place is with me and Feyd,” Rabban nodded.

About this one thing he was stubborn and about this one thing he would fight even his own uncle. Baron Vladimir decided it would be for the best to let the boy have it his way.

(Y/N) and Feyd were raised differently – he was raised to be a strong warrior and his uncle’s pet. Relentless in combat, obedient to his Master, an enjoyer of pain. Inflicting it on others but also the pain being inflicted upon him. Psychotic and murderous. His twin sister was kept away from such an environment by her older brother. He wanted her to become a grand lady. Of course Glossu Rabban had no idea about women’s education but he made sure that his little sister had dozens of tutors. The smarter and more courteous she was, the easier it would be to sell her in a marriage union one day. It didn’t mean she was easy to manage. Ever since she was a little girl, she would cause trouble by following her twin brother everywhere and wanting to be as mischievous as him. He was given the Harkonnen surname and the title of na-baron. She was just Countess (Y/N) Rabban. Many thought she was actually Glossu Rabban’s daughter. Despite being raised differently, her and Feyd were inseparable.

They were not identical twins – she was a splitting image of her mother while he remained a mix of both parents. He was born bald like most of The Harkonnens, she was lucky to keep her hair even though it lacked pigment and was snowy white. The only thing in common they had was their sickly pale Harkonnen skin… and their blood.

The servants had been telling The Baron many times before that the relationship between his young heir and his sister was close. Very close. Too close. The Baron would only chuckle at that. He couldn’t care less, as long as Feyd-Rautha was a warrior he wanted him to be and his sister remained out of his sight and out of big trouble that would require him to intervene.

(Y/N)’s chambers were connected to Feyd’s with the tall, black doors. In fact, they resided in the chambers of The Baron and The Baroness Harkonnen. These chambers had not been used in many years before Feyd was given them by his uncle in his teenage years. It was only natural that (Y/N) followed to the room attached to his. But most mornings, the servants would not find her in her bed. She was being found in her brother’s embrace, their legs intertwined, her hands wrapped around his muscular chest. As if they were still two embryos in their mother’s womb.

She could swear, she could feel pain when he was experiencing it. And out of them two, only he enjoyed it. It brought her no pleasure to see his scars from their uncle’s punishments. She would kiss them all better, every thin line of scarred flesh upon his back would be soothed with her lips. She loved to watch him train, following him around like a puppy at first but then she grew to be a fine woman herself and she no longer gave such innocent energy. All the years of trying to be invisible for her uncle had taught her how to slither around the fortress like a snake; always observant, always on guard, always quiet and unnoticeable.

(Y/N) focused so hard on not being a bother for her uncle that she forgot other people might notice her, too.

The Baron was staring at the veiled old woman in front of him with a contemptuous smirk. Of course he would follow the Bene Gesserit's order in the end whether he wanted it or not but he needed her to see that he was not as easy to control as most of the lesser lords.

“What are you asking of me, woman?” He asked as he looked her up and down.

The Bene Gesserit sighed. She knew perfectly well that he had heard her before.

“I want to put Countess Rabban to the test of Gom Jabbar to see if she’s fit for the marriage union that shall be arranged between her and Prince Paul Atreides,” she repeated her words.

“I am not fond of that girl but she is the closest thing to a daughter I have ever had,” The Baron shook his head. “What makes you think I would give her away to an Atreides?”

“Atreides was supposed to have a daughter who would be a match for your nephew Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. His concubine gave him a son instead but it doesn’t have to mean the match cannot be arranged. After all, Feyd-Rautha has a twin sister sharing his genetic material with him.”

“And what do I get of this union?” The Baron snorted.

“Control over your enemy; The Atreides family,” the Bene Gesserit nodded her head.

“Control over them? By sending that girl over there?” The Baron laughed at the idea. “She’s a weak woman. She won’t have control over anything.”

“Paul Atreides is a boy of a gentle nature, I have tested him already. Countess Rabban will easily push him in all the directions you will ask her to,” the woman tried to convince The Baron. He knew that if he’d argue even further she would just use The Voice.

“Alright then,” he shrugged his arms. “Put her to a test. If she dies, you’ll be the one breaking the news to her brothers. I won’t deal with their pathetic tears.”

Feyd didn’t know where his sister was. It was unusual for her not to wait in her chambers in the evening. Either way, he ordered the servants to fill the bathtub with water and then told them to leave as he sank into the warm liquid after a long day filled with combat training.

The doors opened after a while and (Y/N) entered the room. She had an odd expression on her face as if she was bothered with something and he spotted a few beads of sweat upon her forehead.

“Where were you?” Feyd squinted his eyes at her.

“The Bene Gesserit asked me to join her for a while. She did something weird to me,” she answered as she worked on her dress swiftly to take it off as quickly as possible.

“What do you mean weird?” Feyd tilted his head as he watched her undress. The folds of her skirt and bodice fell down to the floor and revealed her smooth skin and all the curves.

He had asked his older brother about their mother only once. His question had been about her looks. “What did she look like?”, young Feyd had asked. And all Glossu had answered was – “Just look at our sister”.

“She put me to a test. You’d like it,” (Y/N) smirked at him as she turned around to face him and join him in the bathtub. “It was painful,” she admitted and leaned her back on the edge, facing him. She let out a relaxed moan at the feeling of the warm water.

“She hurt you,” Feyd’s question was more of a statement as his jaw clenched.

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) let out a laugh at his reaction. “Such a strong warrior you are and look at you, your older sister is your weakness,” she teased.

“Twenty minutes older,” Feyd scoffed as she chuckled at his annoyance. “Age does not matter, I could snap your neck in a second, dear sister. You have no idea how to defend yourself,” he pointed out angrily.

“Grumpy, grumpy, Feyd,” she giggled as she moved closer to him and sat astride him. Her hands caressed his muscular chest. “Don’t be so sure I’m that helpless… I’ve been watching you train my whole life. I’ve learnt a thing or two,” she lowered her face to whisper into his ear.

He felt his cock twitching at the feeling of her body on his; her sweet breath on his ear, her whisper sending shivers down his spine. He knew she didn’t mind. In fact, she was feeding off of his desire; teasing him mercilessly over and over. One thing Rabban had made very clear was that she could not be touched by any man before her wedding. But it did not mean that Feyd hadn’t been fantasising about it many times before.

She was an absolute perfection. She was like a reflection in the mirror. And who could be more beautiful and breathtaking than Feyd-Rautha himself? She was his missing part like he was hers. They completed each other in many ways but in other ways they were exactly the same. Their heartbeats and breaths were in sync, their desires were the same and he could not tell anymore whether he craved her because of the strong resemblance or had he been the one to spoil her. His childhood experience full of violence and cruelty turned him into a hypersexual predator who would fuck anything and anyone. He had been the first one to put the sexual context into their innocent touches and kisses. On the other hand, she had played along very quickly.

In the whole wide world, his twin sister was the only person who knew and understood him. They had no secrets with each other.

“You’re getting too excited, brother,” she pointed out with a smirk as she threw her arms around his neck. He looked up at her face looming over his. She was even more beautiful like that – on top of him, in control.

“You’re mine,” he let out a raspy whisper as she raised one of her white eyebrows at him. “You’re mine and only mine. Forever,” he breathed out.

“That’s an interesting concept, Feyd-Rautha,” she smiled, “but you do know that our brother is raising me to be another man’s lady.”

“You will be my Baroness and if our brother stands in the way of that happening, I will slay him,” Feyd threatened and his sister moved uncomfortably at his words.

“Stop talking nonsense,” she rose up to leave the bathtub already but Feyd grabbed her by her hair and pulled her down again as she hissed out of discomfort. He hated to inflict pain on her out of all the people but sometimes he just… had to.

“I do mean that,” he drawled as her eyes widened at him.

“I know,” she only said and he licked his lips at the sight of her chest rising up and down as she breathed heavily. He let go of her and watched her leave the bathtub and the bathroom without a word.

Feyd left the bathtub, too. He put on a simple black robe and went back to his room. His sister was laying on his bed, completely naked and playing with one of his short knives in her hands. He sighed with relief at the sight. He expected her to be offended and go to her room before locking the doors for the night.

“I’ll be back in a while,” he told her and approached the doors leading to the corridor. She snorted and he froze.

“You’re like a dog, dear brother. You men are so easy to control with your sexual urges and desires,” she commented and Feyd clenched his jaw as he turned his head around to look at her.

“I’m trying very hard not to violate you. Don’t tease,” he warned.

“Your own sister?” She grinned, showing off her black teeth.

As a child, she had insisted on dyeing them just like her twin brother. Glossu had refused – it would make her look less appealing for the future suitors. Even The Baron had told her it had not been the best idea. (Y/N) had not listened. She had sneaked into the medical wing and had done it herself. At twelve years old she had ruined herself for the first time for Feyd-Rautha.

That had been the only time when Glossu had actually punished her physically. Feyd still remembered because he had been waiting for her by the doors leading to his brother’s chambers. She had been screaming and kicking her feet while getting her arse spanked. After leaving the room, she had sniffled all the tears back and grinned at Feyd with her new black smile. “I’ve gotten my arse whooped,” she had told him proudly as if it was an achievement.

Some time later she had been caught wanting to shave her head off but it was Feyd this time who had stopped her – telling her how much he loved it, how it was making her look different than all the other women around. How much power that hair was giving her. It had made her hesitantly put the scissors down.

And now, Feyd did not answer her teasing accusation as he left the bedroom to go to his concubines, leaving his sister alone. He would join her later, when she would already be asleep. He’d pull her closer and she’d open her arms to welcome him. He’d fall asleep caressing the soft curves of her body and feeling her heartbeat pressed to his.

Two weeks later he trained as usual while (Y/N) sat nearby and watched. She would clap her hands excitedly each time he’d succeed and make a boo sound each time he’d lose. There was lots of mockery in her exaggerated reactions but he couldn’t imagine training without her around anymore.

At the sight of his brother entering the courtyard, Feyd lowered his blade and gave him an unpleasant look.

“What do you want? Why are you interrupting me?” He asked Glossu.

“I am not here for you,” his brother extended his hand towards their sister. “(Y/N), come with me. It is important,” he insisted and she whined. “Our uncle requires your presence.”

“Why?” Feyd barked. He did not like the idea of his uncle wanting something from his sister.

“It is none of your business, Feyd,” Glossu snapped at him and a second later he already had his brother’s knife pressed to his neck.

“Everything regarding (Y/N) is a business of mine,” Feyd hissed.

“Leave him alone,” she approached them as she ordered her twin brother. He took a step back and lowered the blade but only because it was her ordering him. She would always defend Glossu in all the arguments between the brothers. Feyd knew why – their older brother had been the closest thing to a father she had. He protected her, too. And that was the only thing Glossu and Feyd had in common. The love for their sister.

But only one of them loved her… so much.

She put her hands around Glossu’s arm and allowed him to lead her out of the courtyard. Feyd waved his hand dismissively at the servant he had been fighting with as he decided to follow them.

“Your presence was not requested,” his brother remarked.

“Don’t tease him so,” (Y/N) scolded him and he shut his mouth.

Glossu led them to the throne room where their uncle was sitting. But he was not alone. He had guests. Feyd and (Y/N) recognised them immediately from the pictures. The Atreides family – dignified and regally looking Duke Leto Atreides with his beautiful concubine Lady Jessica of The Bene Gesserit. Between them there was a young man standing – their son, Prince Paul Atreides. He was visibly trying to put on a brave face but he was scared and his eyes avoided the siblings who had just entered the room.

“Ah, here they are,” The Baron beckoned them over with his hand as he announced them. “My eldest nephew Count Glossu Rabban and his beloved younger sister, my niece, Countess (Y/N) Rabban.”

She let go of her older brother’s hand and stepped out to bow down slightly. Feyd sneered at that. He always would whenever she’d act like a lady – like their brother and uncle wanted her to. Like she had been taught to ever since she was a little girl.

“That insolent young man standing behind her is my heir and (Y/N)’s twin brother, Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” The Baron gave Feyd a scolding look.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my Lords, my Lady,” Duke Leto nodded his head at all of the siblings.

“(Y/N), child, come closer,” The Baron cooed to her unusually. He would often put on such a show in front of important guests as if he wasn’t treating her like air most of the time. But Feyd was glad that his uncle actually ignored his sister. Otherwise it would be more difficult to protect her.

She approached the guests with furrowed brows, visibly confused by this situation. Feyd’s heart already squeezed inside of his chest as he had a feeling what that was about.

“You will be married to Prince Paul Atreides,” The Baron informed her as if it was nothing.

Feyd looked at Glossu first but his brother did not look surprised at all. He had to know already and it made Feyd feel even angrier as he treated it as betrayal. He shot his uncle a furious glance and then he laid his eyes on his twin sister. To his surprise, she was smiling softly at the shy and gently looking young man.

“It is a great honour,” she bowed her head and Paul Atreides flinched a little. She noticed it. “Do not be scared of me, my Lord,” she chuckled delicately. “I am nothing like my brothers.”

Feyd gritted his teeth. Without a word – rudely and risking his uncle’s punishment – he turned around and left the room.

He saw her again in the evening. He had been training intensely for the past few hours, trying to let the frustration go. The doors leading to her bedroom were ajar and he peeked inside. (Y/N) was packing her things into black wooden chests.

“What are you doing?” Feyd asked her as his blood ran cold.

“I shall take a different room from now on. It is inappropriate for us to share one,” she muttered without even looking up at him.

“Since when do you care?” Feyd leaned on the wall and watched her carefully, trying not to show how much he was panicking on the inside.

“Since I am getting married soon,” she shrugged her arms and he snorted at her.

“You really think I’m going to allow this union, dear sister?” He asked and she turned her face around with her brows furrowed.

“You have nothing to say in that matter, brother,” she reminded him. “You are nothing but our uncle’s pet. The psychotic and fearsome Feyd-Rautha… If only they knew that you’re not scary at all,” she remarked as his jaw clenched.

“I will kill him if I must. That boy, Paul Atreides,” Feyd threatened.

“We both know you will not. It would have consequences greater than you and I can even imagine,” she smiled but he noticed the curls of her lips twitching. She was nervous.

“How can you not oppose this marriage?” Feyd let his guard down as he asked genuinely, expecting an answer just as honest.

His sister’s facial expression changed as well. She approached him and cupped his face in her delicate, soft hands.

“I’ve always known I would leave Giedi Prime eventually. I could only hope for a good husband and Paul Atreides is good. He is young and pretty and naive. My life as his Duchess will be easy and pleasant,” she explained softly. “I’ve always known I would leave Giedi Prime and I couldn’t wait for that day. I want to… No, I need to get away from here… from you,” she whispered as his eyes widened at her revelation. “You’re poisonous, Feyd-Rautha. You have spoiled me already, ruined me, stained me. And everywhere I go, our uncle’s sticky spiderweb surrounds me, suffocates me,” she finished before leaning in to place a gentle goodbye kiss upon his lips.

She wanted to move away but he grabbed her cheeks and aggressively pulled her closer once again, kissing her yet again but possessively and hungrily. She didn’t kiss him back this time.

When he finally let go of her, they were both breathing heavily but there was nothing but anger in their eyes.

“Stay away from me and stay away from Paul Atreides,” she warned her brother and he walked out of her room before slamming the doors behind him, furiously.

But Feyd did not stay away. Whenever he was not in the courtyard, training vigorously and slaying his opponents one after another with the ferocity he had not displayed before, he would follow (Y/N) and her husband-to-be around the fortress. He didn’t trust any servant to spy on them for him, no, he had to do it himself.

Paul Atreides was left alone for two weeks on Giedi Prime and after that time he would take the Countess with him to Caladan. He was scared of his betrothed’s planet as he was widening his eyes at everything as she explained to him gently. Usually Feyd was catching them in the maze of countlessly corridors as they walked together. Soft laughter of his sister occasionally filled the cold marble walls.

He was nearly always there; creeping in the shadows, watching, observing, gritting his teeth at her every smile or blush. Paul Atreides, visibly scared of her at first, was slowly starting to get used to her presence. And one day he dared to lean in and steal a delicate kiss from her lips.

Feyd clenched his fists at the sight as he was hiding behind the pillar. His sister’s lips had never been kissed before by any man other than him. His blood boiled when he realised that not only Paul Atreides would kiss her but also claim her as his own and put his weak and pathetic heirs inside her womb.

No, that could not happen. She was made for him, she was his other half. Feyd-Rautha would not let any other man take her away from him.

He turned around and quietly went to the living quarters where he found the room that now belonged to his sister. He barked at the servant girls to leave him and they ran away, startled by his anger. Once he was alone in (Y/N)’s bedroom, he patiently waited.

After a while, he heard her footsteps down the corridor. He would recognise them everywhere. He stood behind the doors as his heart pounded in his chest from the anticipation.

She pushed the doors open and walked inside, looking around for her servant girls. Feyd was standing behind her and observing her carefully, wondering when she’d notice him.

“I know you’re here,” she sighed without looking back. “I can recognise your stench,” she drawled.

He growled at her insolent words as he swiftly moved forward and grabbed her by her hair, pulling it by the roots and making her hiss out of pain. He pulled her closer to him, rested her body on his and smirked while pressing his cheek to hers.

“You’ve never seemed to complain about my scent before, dear sister,” he pointed out.

“I meant that you stink of sweat and blood at this very moment,” she fixed herself, still wincing out of pain he was inflicting upon her. “What do you want from me?”

“I saw you with him,” he breathed out.

“I know. I see you in the shadows every time,” she sneered. “I recommend finding a different hobby.”

“You’re mine. If you think I’m going to let you leave Giedi Prime, carry his surname and bear his filthy Atreides children in your womb, then you are mistaken, sister,” Feyd whispered angrily into her ear before biting on her earlobe.

She did not answer but in her eyes he spotted fear. Real fear, not her usual playful demeanour. For the first time in her life she was truly scared of her twin brother. Perhaps for the first time she understood why others feared him.

Still holding her by her white hair, he walked her to the bed and threw her on it. She immediately tried to crawl away and run away from him but he grabbed her ankle and watched her struggle with a smirk.

“Leave me alone,” she tried to command him. And usually he would listen to her orders but not now, too blinded by jealousy.

In one swift movement he brought her closer by her ankle and tore her dress and underwear open with his small knife. She looked up at him with anger, fear and a dose of excitement that made him smirk. Her body betrayed her – she wanted it, too.

He was rock hard already at the sight of her like that for him. She was like a prey on display for him to feast upon. Feyd licked his lips and turned her around. He took his cock out of his leather pants as she tried to stand up on her shaky hands and legs to get away. Before she’d move too far, he pulled her close once again with a laugh.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he threatened and pressed his blade under her chin.

On her hands and knees with her beautiful white hair resting on her back – he had been dreaming of claiming her from behind this way for years now. She was trembling out of fear and anger but she couldn’t scream for help when his blade was so close to her larynx.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned in closer to her ear. “You’re my other half.”

He felt her swallowing thickly under his blade as he smirked to himself and moved the knife away. Before she could scream, he pushed her head down into her pillow, muffling any sound that would leave her mouth.

“No Atreides will fuck you. No other man will at all, for that matter,” he barked at her, his cock twitching already at the sight of her exposed womanhood. “You’re mine,” he reminded her.

She tried to protest but he couldn’t understand the words she was saying. He pressed her head even deeper into the pillow and with his free hand he ran across her folds, finding her clit and pinching it as she squealed and kicked her feet.

She was so delicate and sensitive, his dear sister. He took a deep breath in as he was starting to get dizzy from the sight and smell alone. He worked his fingertips around her sweet spot and noticed her muscles relaxing as her will to fight him off started to subdue gradually. At the first feeling of her warm wetness, he gathered it and brought his fingers to his mouth. Feyd hummed at the taste.

“Do you know what you taste like?” He asked her angrily and pulled her hair again. She shook her head. “Like me,” he pointed out. “Because we belong together,” he reminded her and she whined.

He couldn’t wait any longer. He needed her now. He pumped his hard cock a few times before lining it up with her tight hole. Feyd nearly felt bad for his sweet sister, for the pain she would experience now. But no feeling was stronger than his lust.

He entered her in one deep thrust while she yelped and writhed; even the pillow was not able to muffle the pathetic sound leaving her mouth. He closed his eyes at the feeling of her warm and tight walls spasming around his length. She was perfect, she was made for him and him only. They were finally complete again; one body, one soul.

“You will rule with me as my Baroness,” he hissed as his hips began to thrust into her. “We will bring back the old traditions, keep our bloodline pure. And you will give me heirs,” he crooned to her maliciously. “You were made to do that, sweet sister. Made for me. Me,” he kept repeating.

She drooled and sobbed into the soft silky pillow as her hands were clutching on the sheets. She was helpless under him but what she hated the most was that part of her that did not want him to stop. That part of her that felt the same way as her brother – complete at the feeling of him fucking her. Like she was finally connected to the long lost part of her body.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head with each of his thrust, filling her so thoroughly, making her feel full and overwhelmed as he was hitting all the right spots inside of her. She knew that sweet and gentle Paul Atreides would never claim her this way. No one would. Only her twin brother knew how to please her. He understood her more than anybody else.

He spoiled her, he ruined her, he was poisonous. But who said she didn’t want it? Her body betrayed her as it admitted that she craved it.

What she feared were the consequences of this act. The consequences of breaking the fragile truce with The Atreides, the consequences of breaking up the engagement that had been not only prepared by The Baron himself but also plotted by the dangerous Bene Gesserit.

None of it mattered, though. None of it was important with Feyd's cock buried so deep inside of her, his hand pushing her face into the pillow and making her suffocate slightly, which only enhanced the pleasure. His free hand was squeezing her hip and marking it as he grunted and cooed to her all those blasphemous promises about their shared life together, their compatibility, their bodies being made for one another.

She came first; suddenly and without a warning. Her body spasmed and trembled as her limbs went numb. At the feeling of her tight walls fluttering around his cock, Feyd reached his peak right after but he did not pull out for a long time, emptying himself as deep inside of her as he could; straight into her womb.

His sister whined at the feeling of his thick, black cum coating her walls but now, after his release, most of his anger was gone as well, so he just caressed her head and shushed her.

“Shh, dear sister, just take it like you were made to,” he cooed and she didn’t have any strength in her body to fight it anymore.

When he eventually pulled out, he watched her pussy twitching deliciously as a small streamlet of his black cum leaked out of it and stained her grey sheets, mixing with a few droplets of blood.

“Now, when you’ve been claimed by me,” Feyd smirked to himself proudly as he hid his cock back into his pants, “no other man will want you. Not when you’re surely carrying my spawn in your womb,” he added and left the room without a word.

He refused to watch her laying there and sobbing silently, trying to collect her breath and clumsily stand up to go to the bathroom. Some part of him regretted his act and seeing his beloved sister in such a state was bringing him no pleasure. He couldn’t take this back now, though, and he didn’t want to. It just had to be done.

The room was dead silent. Old Bene Gesserit woman was staring at Countess Rabban in disbelief and the young woman held her head down with her hands clasped around her abdomen as if she was protecting her spawn from The Reverend Mother’s gaze.

Both Baron Harkonnen and Duke Atreides looked displeased but only the second one was also visibly disgusted. His son was standing by his side; shocked and scared. Saddened. Disappointed.

Glossu Rabban’s face showed nothing but disappointment and disgust as well. His anger was aimed mostly at his younger brother. He refused to believe his sister could be as rotten as Feyd-Rautha – the only person in the room who actually looked proud as he straightened himself and smirked at everyone gathered inside.

“What are you smiling about, boy?” The Reverend Mother scolded him. “Have you got any idea what you have done?”

“I’ve claimed my sister as my own. It is an old tradition of the Great Houses to practise,” he reminded her.

“Which was abandoned a long time ago for a reason!” The Bene Gesserit snapped at him. “Your sister was supposed to give birth to Paul Atreides’ son and bring Kwisatz Haderach to life!”

“I do not care about your schemes,” Feyd rolled his eyes as he moved closer to his sister.

“Stay away from her,” Glossu barked.

“Or what? She’s already carrying my child inside of her, is she not?” Feyd asked, proudly as most of the room flinched with disgust.

“She can still bear Kwisatz Haderach,” The Baron tried to desperately save the situation. “We can get rid of that spawn inside of her and still give her to Paul Atreides. Obviously, not as a wife anymore,” he assured Duke Leto. “As a whore that she apparently is.”

Feyd clenched his jaw at his words as he took a step ahead of (Y/N) and covered her body with his from the sight.

“Over my dead body any of you will touch my sister or my child,” he drawled through gritted teeth.

“Inbreeding your bloodline might have morbid consequences,” The Reverend Mother informed him. “She’s carrying a demon.”

Feyd snorted at her. Was he supposed to be scared of her words? They only made him even more proud.

At those words, Baron Harkonnen squinted his eyes at the Bene Gesserit woman. He visibly liked the idea of having demonic heirs as well.

“I've changed my mind. We will not get rid of the child,” he decided. “Feyd-Rautha is my na-baron. If he chooses to marry his twin sister, then that is his right,” he said.

“That is plain disrespect!” Duke Leto raised his voice. “We have agreed to this union despite the bride being… not of the best quality. We have brought our son here, to this poisoned planet and nothing but humiliation awaited him here.”

Duke Leto pushed his son lightly in the direction of the doors as they walked out, offended. The guards looked at The Baron Harkonnen questioningly.

“Let them go,” he chuckled. “Soon, their time will come anyway.”

“Not before we secure young Paul Atreides’ bloodline!” The Reverend Mother widened her eyes at him as she ran after Duke Leto. “My Lord, please wait, I have another brides to offer that will suit your son just right…!” Her voice disappeared when the heavy doors closed behind them all.

“So, it’s settled,” Baron Harkonnen took a look at his nephews and niece as he puffed on his pipe and sighed. “You owe me for that, Feyd,” he pointed out and his young nephew bowed down. “I knew that you children would bring me nothing but trouble.”

“I am sorry!” Glossu exclaimed all of sudden as everyone looked at him, surprised. “I am sorry for failing, uncle! I was supposed to look after her, to protect her, to make sure everything goes right…”

“But everything did go right,” Baron Harkonnen laughed contemptuously. “(Y/N), darling, come here…” He reached his hand out and the young woman nodded her head before approaching her uncle, obediently. “When you were a little baby, I wanted to get rid of you,” he admitted as he held her hand. “Your brother Glossu was the one to convince me you would be useful one day. He swore to raise you.”

(Y/N) didn’t react to those words. She only stood there and looked deep into her uncle’s eyes.

“Turns out he was right,” The Baron continued, “you are very useful for The House Harkonnen. You will bear us strong heirs that shall take over the whole Empire…” He hummed and she nodded. “From now on, even before your wedding to your brother, you will be known as Countess (Y/N) Harkonnen. I adopt you,” he announced as her eyes sparkled.

“Thank you, uncle,” she let go of his hand to take a step back and bow her head down.

Feyd stood behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. Glossu was staring at them as if he wanted to kill them both at that moment. Even his baby sister whom he had raised was suddenly more important in the family hierarchy than him.

“You have my blessing,” The Baron told them and dismissed them all with a wave of his hand.

Feyd walked his sister out of the throne room with his hands still on her shoulders. He was as protective as ever with her now when she was in her delicate state.

He took her back to their shared chambers to which she had returned recently. He sat her down on the edge of his bed and approached the vanity table to get a brush before sitting behind her and taking care of her long, white hair. Delicately working on every small tangle, sniffing the scent of her favourite hair oils, smiling to himself at the thought he would have her for himself forever from now on.

“Are you happy, dear sister?” He asked as he gathered her hair to throw it out of her left shoulder and place a kiss on the exposed skin of her neck.

“We belong together,” she answered, her hands still clasped on her abdomen protectively as if that demonic spawn inside of her needed protection. “I was made for you,” she added.

She would not get away from Giedi Prime. She would not be given to any lord and run away from The Harkonnens. In fact, now she was a Harkonnen, too. Her fate was to rule alongside Feyd-Rautha as his sister-wife.

“I asked, are you happy, dear sister?” He repeated the question, squinting his eyes at her.

She took a deep breath in. She knew that he would know if she lied to him but she didn’t feel the need to hide anything from him. Therefore, she spoke the truth:

“I am.”

MASTERLIST

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #lilysfiction #austin butler x reader

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svsss-fanon-exposed · 9 months ago

Text

Examining SVSSS Canon: 2/∞

THE PRE-CANON TIMELINE

This post will attempt to provide an answer to several questions, including the ages of some of the current peak lords, as well as a rough timeline of events in the extras relative to the current day. A simple, bullet-point timeline will be at the end of this post, with relevant quotes and analysis above.

The timeline of SVSSS isn't particularly easy to piece together, and many fans are unsure of things such as the ages of certain characters, or how long the current generation of peak lords has been in power. As a matter of fact, it seems like even Airplane himself doesn't have a set timeline in mind for the events of PIDW pre-LBH:

“Your ages?” To tell the truth, Shen Qingqiu didn’t really know the precise age of this body. He raised his head at Shang Qinghua. “Wouldn’t you know better than I do?” Shang Qinghua twirled the brush in his hand. He’d never thought about this question either, so he figured he might as well just say whatever. Therefore he randomly wrote a number down in a couple of strokes. (7 Seas, Ch. 31)

It would be easy enough to take this quote and call the timeline a mystery-- however, there are a surprising amount of clues in the text, enough to at least put together a decent idea of when things happened and how old certain characters are, depending on which theories and interpretations one ascribes to.

There are two particular facts which are our most important hints as to the pre-LBH timeline, upon which this entire analysis hinges.

First, we have the spacing of the Immortal Alliance Conferences:

After much difficulty, Luo Binghe managed to turn seventeen, at which point he finally participated in the event the cultivation world held once every four years: the Immortal Alliance Conference. (7 Seas, Ch. 1)

And next, we have the length of time since Shen Qingqiu began to cultivate:

Before, Shen Qingqiu had thought that this body’s qualifications were already incredible, to have formed a core in only ten or so years when he’d begun cultivation so late. (7 Seas, Ch. 19)

Notably here, what is translated as "ten or so years" is 十几年， which is more accurately "ten and a few years." This means that at the time Shen Qingqiu formed a golden core, he had been at Cang Qiong Mountain for around 10-15 years, but likely no longer or shorter than that.

This tells us quite a bit already-- because we know that Shen Qingqiu only reached core formation after becoming peak lord, as well as after Luo Binghe had already become a disciple:

Luo Binghe was using the incorrect cultivation manual that Shen Qingqiu had handed him; he should have long since died bleeding from the seven apertures, his body rupturing down to his bones, skin, meridians, tendons, and flesh... Shen Qingqiu was filled with paranoia; he forever felt like everyone was secretly talking behind his back, discussing how he’d been unable to attain Core Formation even after this long. (7 Seas, Ch. 24)

So this tells us that it could not have been any longer than around 15 years between Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe joining Cang Qiong Mountain, and was likely at least a few years less than that because it has already been awhile since Luo Binghe was given the fake manual, which likely occured shortly after he arrived, and Shen Qingqiu reaches core formation at some point after this scene.

This means that the Qing generation's ascenscion likely occured no more than ten years after Shen Qingqiu joined the sect-- putting the ages for Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan respectively at roughly twenty-six and twenty-nine when they became peak lords.

The timeline can be clarified further and expanded, however, due to the spacing of the IAC. We know that the IAC occured when Luo Binghe was seventeen, and that it occurs every four years-- meaning that there would have been IAC taking place also when he was thirteen, nine, five, one, and three years before he was born.

However, we also know that it had not actually been fourteen years since Luo Binghe's birth at the start of SVSSS.

In the translation, Luo Binghe says the following when Shen Qingqiu asks his age:

“This disciple is fourteen,” Luo Binghe obediently replied. (7 Seas, Ch. 1)

However, the original says:

洛冰河乖巧地道：“弟子虚岁十四。”

"虚岁" here would be better translated as "nominal age." In ancient times, a child was one year old on the day of their birth, and aged up by one year with each new year-- so if a child was born the day before the new year, then at two days old he would already be counted as two years old. Sometimes, this would be counted on the spring festival new year, but other times it would be counted on the winter solstice.

As for Luo Binghe's precise chronological age, that is up for some determination. We know roughly the time of year he was born:

Immediately after birth, Luo Binghe was abandoned by his parents, swaddled in white cloth, and put in a wooden basin that was lowered into the Luo River. This occurred on the coldest days of the year... (7 Seas, Ch. 1)

The "coldest days of the year" here is 数九寒天, which refers to the nine periods of nine days each following the winter solstice. The winter solstice typically occurs on December 20-21, meaning that Luo Binghe's birth date is somewhere between December 20-March 12. If nominal age is being counted by winter solstice in this world, then that makes him chronologically thirteen at the start of SVSSS, but if it is calculated by the spring festival, then he is chronologically either twelve or thirteen at the start of SVSSS, as the Chinese new year can fall anywhere between January 21 - February 21, meaning that LBH could have been born either before or after this time.

So, let's just say that LBH's chronological age, for the purposes here, is thirteen, and then adjust our IAC timeline as follows：

There was one when he was chronologically sixteen, twelve, eight, four, the year he was born, and four years before he was born.

Now, how does this help us determine a timeline?

Well, we have the following statement:

Yue Qingyuan’s knuckles slowly brushed along Xuan Su’s hilt. “I was able to meet Senior Su Xiyan once at an Immortal Alliance Conference, many years ago." (7 Seas, Ch. 18)

Because we know that Su Xiyan died when Luo Binghe was born, we know that this meeting could not have occured at any conferences after his birth. It also would be unlikely that they met the same year Luo Binghe was born, as Su Xiyan would likely already be dead at that point if LBH was born after the new year. So, the latest that Yue Qingyuan could have met Su Xiyan would be twenty years before Luo Binghe was thrown into the Abyss.

We now combine this with the earlier discussion of the ages of Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan, and here I will note the following:

Yue Qingyuan slowly said, “At age fifteen, I entered Qiong Ding Peak." (7 Seas, Ch. 21)

This puts Yue Qingyuan roughly three years older than Shen Jiu:

“When [Shen Jiu] was twelve years old, he was but a slave my family had purchased from traveling child traffickers. " (7 Seas, Ch. 6)

Shen Jiu joined Cang Qiong Mountain at sixteen:

Liu Qingge didn’t even grace him with a sideways glance. “But certainly more success than a nobody who only began proper cultivation at age sixteen.” (7 Seas, Ch. 19)

This happened most likely directly after reuniting with Yue Qingyuan at an Immortal Alliance Conference. This puts Yue Qingyuan's age at nineteen during that conference, at which point he is head disciple, and has already gained some fame. However, this reunion has to occur before Luo Binghe's birth, Su Xiyan's death, and Tianlang-jun's defeat. This is because at this point, Yue Qingyuan has only been in Cang Qiong Mountain for four years-- thus, this particular conference is almost certainly the first one he has taken part in, and likely the first one he has attended at all, since a brand-new disciple in early stages of training most likely wouldn't have gone, therefore if Tianlang-jun had already been sealed by this point, Yue Qingyuan would not have had the chance to meet Su Xiyan.

So, the latest Shen Qingqiu could have joined Cang Qiong Mountain, at age 16, is twenty years before the Abyss, which would put him at age thirty-six at the youngest at that time.

Now, what about additional conference cycles?

It's possible that the conference in which Yue Qingyuan met Su Xiyan and/or after which Shen Qingqiu joined CQM may have been the one before this-- but that would also add four additional years to the time SQQ had been cultivating.

The earliest that Luo Binghe could have joined CQM would be when he was a little over ten years old, as that is when his mother dies:

On the bed lay a haggard old woman. With great effort, she tried to prop herself up, but from beginning to end, she was unable to do so. A small figure rushed in from outside. A tender-faced Luo Binghe, only a little over ten years old, supported the woman. Around his neck hung that jade pendant. (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

Shen Qingqiu had not reached core formation when Luo Binghe joined the sect. This means that if the IAC where SQQ joined the sect was four years before Luo Binghe's birth, then by the time Luo Binghe joins the sect it has been about fourteen to fifteen years since SQQ began cultivating.

Adding an additional four years would bump that to eighteen to nineteen years, which exceeds the "ten and some" years that SQQ took to reach core formation.

In my opinion, this also tells me that LBH joined CQM when he was absolutely no older than ten or eleven, and likely went to join immediately after his mother's death, because pushing LBH's join date later would also stretch the timeline of SQQ's cultivation. Now, this part does not specify whether the ten years old is nominal age or chronological age-- but because LBH's age of seventeen at the conference is referenced to his nominal age of fourteen, with a distance between of three years, then I am considering all age-numbers to be nominal age rather than chronological. This only really matters in regards to Luo Binghe for this analysis, though, as his birth year is the only one which has bearing on the timeline in regards to Su Xiyan's status.

With all of this information, we can determine with good confidence that the conference in which Yue Qingyuan met Su Xiyan was the same conference during which he reunited with Shen Qingqiu, which occured four years before Luo Binghe was born and twenty years before the Endless Abyss.

So because of this, we actually do have a relatively precise timeline of characters' ages, as well as events in the cultivation world.

This short timeline is also supported by the fact that Ming Fan is the most senior of Shen Qingqiu's disciples, and he is only sixteen, about 2-3 years older than Luo Binghe:

A youth around sixteen years old, tall and thin, promptly ran in through the door. “This disciple is here. What instructions does Shifu have?” (7 Seas, Ch. 1)

Had the Qing generation ascended too many years prior to Luo Binghe's joining the sect, it would be strange that the most senior disciple of Shen Qingqiu's was only sixteen, as in xianxia a disciple typically will not "graduate" at a certain age or cultivation stage, meaning that older disciples will maintain their role well into adulthood.

As for the rest of the peak lords, we have little to no information regarding the ages of Wei Qingwei, Qi Qingqi, or Mu Qingfang. However, we do know that Liu Qingge is quite young, and joined the sect both at an optimal age and a significant length of time before Shen Qingqiu:

At this point, Liu Qingge’s formal ascension to Bai Zhan Peak Lord, too, had likely only happened a couple years ago. There was a visible air of immaturity about his features, his gaze fierce and sharp, and within his every action was a young man’s spirited vigor. (7 Seas, Ch. 19)

and

Therefore, even though he’d entered the sect quite some time after Liu Qingge, because Qing Jing Peak was ranked second—only below Qiong Ding Peak—while Bai Zhan Peak was ranked seventh, Liu Qingge still had to address Shen Qingqiu as “Shixiong,” if through gritted teeth. (7 Seas, Ch. 24)

So, Liu Qingge is likely a year or two younger than Shen Qingqiu, but not by too much, since they still behave very much like contemporaries as teenagers-- let's say that Liu Qingge is likely around 14-15 when Shen Qingqiu joins the sect at age 16.

The other peak lord we know a bit about the age of is Shang Qinghua:

The older-than-average outer disciple Shang Qinghua, who currently occupied a seventeen-year-old body, looked around in all directions as he trailed behind the main team, who were unloading goods from the ship onto the docks. (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

He is seventeen here, and an outer disciple of An Ding Peak. We can place this a bit more definitively on the timeline by the fact that Shen Qingqiu is already a head disciple at this point in time:

“What I don’t know is how Shen Qingqiu got chosen as head disciple after starting cultivation so late,” said another outer disciple who’d joined Cang Qiong Mountain at an older age, his expression sour. (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

Unfortunately, we cannot place the exact point in time where Shen Qingqiu became head disciple-- one possibility is that it couldn't have happened until after Tianlang-jun's defeat, which occured about four years after he joined the sect, since he did not participate in the battle. But that is a weak argument, since none of the current generation besides Yue Qingyuan participated in that battle:

Of the current peak lords, only Yue Qingyuan had participated in that battle, as the head disciple of Qiong Ding Peak. (7 Seas, Ch. 17)

If using this argument, then that would mean that aside from Yue Qingyuan, none of the other peak lords had been chosen as head disciples at that time-- while that is a possibility, I think that a more feasible explanation would be that Yue Qingyuan was an exception, and participated in the battle specifically because of his wielding Xuan Su.

One thing we can extrapolate, however, is that Shang Qinghua was most likely an inner disciple for at least three years before the Qing generation's ascension. This is because of the following:

One day, Shang Qinghua’s concise Great System delivered a new command: Become the An Ding Peak head disciple within three years. (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

Now, it is somewhat loose evidence, as there is nothing to say that "three years" means for certain that the ascension would occur three years from that point, but it does mean that it occured no earlier than that. By now, Shang Qinghua has already been an inner disciple for some time, long enough to have been assisted by Mobei-jun a few times and to have gone on several missions-- most likely around a few months to a year or so at minimum.

Of course, how long has passed between Shen Qingqiu joining the sect and this point? Well, since Shen Qingqiu is still described as a youth:

Shang Qinghua suddenly heard the tinkling of sword tassel pendants, and a youth wearing Qing Jing Peak’s uniform slowly approached him. (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

Because of this description, I would say that Shen Qingqiu is most likely between seventeen and his early twenties, since it isn't particularly likely that he would become head disciple in less than a year after joining the sect. Of course, within this age range, there is one important event that occurs-- the battle of Bai Lu mountain, which would have occured when Shen Qingqiu was twenty and Yue Qingyuan was twenty-three.

Now, this gets into more of a speculation than anything else-- just before this point, Mobei-jun attacked Huan Hua Palace and the An Ding Peak disciples. If the battle of Bai Lu Mountain had already occured, it would have happened no more than a few years earlier. We also know that there is a tentative truce between the demon realm and the cultivation world:

This suggestion was solid. For many years, the Human and Demon Realms had maintained an uneasy balance and had yet to drop the pretense of peace. Eliminating Sha Hualing and her mob wouldn’t be impossible, but it would likely light a fuse. The demons definitely wouldn’t let her death go unanswered, and it wouldn’t be worth it if they stirred up an even greater conflict. (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

I suspect that this pretense of peace was likely set in place after the battle of Bai Lu Mountain, when the demon realm had just lost their ruler.

Since just a short time had happened since the demons' defeat and a likely truce between the realms, I find it unlikely that Mobei-jun, a prominent member of demonic nobility, at this time would be actively antagonizing the cultivation world by attacking Huan Hua Palace and Cang Qiong Mountain. Now, of course, there is a potential alternate storyline that this is exactly what happened, and Mobei-jun went rogue as an act of lashing out, and that interpretation would be perfectly valid on its own.

Personally, though, I believe that Shang Qinghua's meeting with Mobei-jun occured before the battle of Bai Lu Mountain, while the cultivation world and demon world were in the tense state on the edge of war. This means that Shang Qinghua most likely became an inner disciple when Shen Qingqiu was around 17-19 years old.

With this information, we can determine some relative ages:

Yue Qingyuan is three years older than Shen Qingqiu, who is a little older than Liu Qingge. Because Shang Qinghua was seventeen when Shen Qingqiu was already head disciple, it is most likely that he is around Liu Qingge's age, give or take a few years, as it is not particularly likely (though potentially possible) for Shen Qingqiu to have gone from new disciple to head disciple in the space of a single year.

Aside from these four, there are no other ages that can be determined for the peak lords.

With all of this information, a fairly decent timeline can be created. Characters' ages will be listed with each notable year.

《 THE TIMELINE 》

*counted up to the start of SVSSS. If using this timeline, keep in mind that the earliest and latest notes for date ranges can overlap-- do not accidentally have a disciple join the sect before the current peak lords ascend, or have SQH become head disciple after ascension! Dates with ranges are colored green (earliest) and red (latest).

Earlier than -21 YR

LQG: <;10-11

(earliest) Liu Qingge joins Cang Qiong Mountain

-21 YR

LQG: 10-11, SQQ: 12, YQY: 15, QHT: <16, QJL: 16

Shen Jiu sold to Qiu Jianluo

Yue Qi joins Cang Qiong Mountain

--IAC--

-19 YR

LQG: 12-13, SQQ: 14, YQY: 17

(earliest*) Yue Qingyuan enters the Lingxi Caves with Xuan Su

-18 YR

LQG: 13-14, SQQ: 15, YQY: 18, QHT: <19, QJL: 19

(latest*) Yue Qingyuan enters the Lingxi Caves with Xuan Su

Shen Jiu kills Qiu Jianluo and burns down Qiu Manor

Shen Jiu becomes Wu Yanzi's disciple

(earliest*) Yue Qi leaves the Lingxi Caves

(earliest*) Yue Qi becomes head disciple

(latest) Liu Qingge joins Cang Qiong Mountain

-17 YR

LQG: 14-15, SQQ: 16, YQY: 19

(latest*) Yue Qi leaves the Lingxi Caves

(latest*) Yue Qi becomes head disciple

--IAC--

Yue Qingyuan meets Su Xiyan

Shen Jiu kills Wu Yanzi and joins Cang Qiong Mountain

-16 YR

LQG: 15-16, SQH: 15-17, SQQ: 17, YQY: 20

(earliest) Shen Qingqiu becomes Head Disciple

(earliest) Shang Qinghua meets Mobei-jun and becomes inner disciple at age 17

(earliest) Shang Qinghua receives the directive to become head disciple within three years

(earliest) Shang Qinghua becomes head disciple

-14 YR

MF: 2, LQG: 17-18, SQH: 17-19, SQQ: 19, YQY: 22

(latest) Shen Qingqiu becomes Head Disciple

(latest) Shang Qinghua meets Mobei-jun and becomes inner disciple at age 17

(earliest**) Su Xiyan imprisoned and subjected to torture in Water Prison

(earliest**) Battle of Bai Lu Mountain

(earliest**) Tianlang-jun Sealed

-13 YR

NYY: <1, LBH: 1, MF: 3, LQG: 18-19, SQH: 18-20, SQQ: 20, YQY: 23

(latest**) Su Xiyan imprisoned and subjected to torture in Water Prison

(latest**) Battle of Bai Lu Mountain

(latest**) Tianlang-jun Sealed

Luo Binghe is Born

Su Xiyan Dies

(earliest) Qing Generation ascend to become Peak Lords

--IAC--

-11 YR

NYY: 2-3, LBH: 3, MF: 5, LQG: 20-21, SQH: 20-22, SQQ: 22, YQY: 25

(earliest***) Ming Fan joins Qing Jing Peak under Shen Qingqiu

-9 YR

NYY: 4-5, LBH: 5, MF: 7, LQG: 22-23, SQH: 22-24, SQQ: 24, YQY: 27

--IAC--

-8 YR

NYY: 5-6, LBH: 6, MF: 8, LQG: 23-24, SQH: 23-25, SQQ: 25, YQY: 28

(latest) Shang Qinghua receives the directive to become head disciple within three years

(earliest***) Ning Yingying joins Qing Jing Peak under Shen Qingqiu

-5 YR

NYY: 8-9, LBH: 9, MF: 11, LQG: 27-28, SQH: 27-29, SQQ: 29, YQY: 32

--IAC--

(latest) Shang Qinghua becomes head disciple

(latest) Qing Generation ascend to become Peak Lords

(latest) Ming Fan joins Qing Jing Peak under Shen Qingqiu

-4 YR

NYY: 9-10, LBH: 10, MF: 12, LQG: 28-29, SQH: 28-30, SQQ: 30, YQY: 33

Luo Binghe's adoptive mother dies

(earliest) Luo Binghe joins Qing Jing Peak

(earliest) Shen Qingqiu reaches Core Formation

-3 YR

NYY: 10-11, LBH: 11, MF: 13, LQG: 29-30, SQH: 29-31, SQQ: 31, YQY: 34

(latest****) Ning Yingying joins Qing Jing Peak under Shen Qingqiu

(latest) Luo Binghe joins Qing Jing Peak

-2 YR

NYY: 11-12, LBH: 12, MF: 14, LQG: 30-31, SQH: 30-32, SQQ: 32, YQY: 35

(latest*****) Shen Qingqiu reaches Core Formation

-1 YR

NYY: 12-13, LBH: 13, MF: 15

--IAC--

Year 0

NYY: 13-14, LBH: 14, MF: 16

SVSSS Begins

-----

This timeline operates under the following conditions. For some of these conditions, alternatives are discussed in the post above-- if you wish to use any of the alternative calculations, then you're more than welcome to adjust the timeline as applicable for your own use!

"Years" are counted from the first day of the spring festival/Chinese new year, rather than January 1

All character ages are nominal ages, so they were born in the year they are counted as age "1"

Luo Binghe was born after the new year, and so his nominal age is only about one year higher than chronological.

Shang Qinghua met Mobei-jun before the battle of Bai Lu Mountain

The system's time limit for SQH does reference the time of the Qing generation's ascension

The Immortal Alliance Conference takes place roughly in the middle of the year. Based on the fact that it is warm enough for the disciples to dip their feet into a stream and find that pleasant, it would make sense for the IAC to occur in a warmer season (Ch. 4)

Further References and Footnotes:

*Yue Qi was in the Lingxi Caves for more than one year and Qiu Manor had already been destroyed by the time he got out (Ch. 21)

**The birth of Luo Binghe occured a few days after the battle of Bai Lu Mountain. Depending on when LBH was born, it could be at the end of year -13 or the first few days of year -12 (Ch. 21)

***We do not know the earliest a child can join Cang Qiong Mountain, even though the appropriate age for cultivation most likely cuts off somewhere around 15 (due to YQY joining at that age and no comments about him being "too old"). For the purposes of this timeline, I am setting the absolute youngest to age 5, but more realistically a disciple wouldn't join until age 8-10 at the earliest.

****It is unknown whether the only time that disciples can join Cang Qiong Mountain is during the recruitment trials. Therefore, there remains a possibility for Ning Yingying to have joined the sect in the same year as Luo Binghe, but at some point before the recruitment trials due to connections. This can potentially be supported by Shen Jiu joining after the IAC, but at the same time, it is not confirmed that SJ joined CQM immediately, or if he had to wait until the next recruitment trial, so there is no clear canon precedent-- nonetheless, it is still possible. Note that Ning Yingying can only join at this late point if Luo Binghe joins at age 11, and after her. The only hard requirement is that NYY joined at some point before LBH.

*****I have placed this as the absolute latest time SQQ could have formed a golden core because this puts him at having been cultivating for sixteen years. It is a bit of a stretch already , but I don't think that "ten and a few" years could really be any longer than this. It is also worth noting that by the time SQQ reaches core formation, every other peak lord has already done so, with Yue Qingyuan first, Liu Qingge and Qi Qingqi next, and Shang Qinghua most likely last (Ch. 24)

Please let me know if you notice any errors in calculation, formatting, or missing details! This was quite substantial so there's a good chance I may have missed something.

Some of the points in this analysis and timeline calculations were brainstormed with the help of @zykamiliah , @cum-villain , @furbygoblinxiv . Many thanks!

#svsss #canon examined #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #yue qingyuan #liu qingge #shang qinghua #svsss timeline #resource

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flowerandblood · 9 months ago

Text

Object of Desire (1/3)

[ dark • Aemond x Arryn • widow female ]

[ warnings: dubcon, hate sex, sex content, smut, angst, domination, violence, swearing, humiliation, hard chauvinism ]

[ description: Aemond is forced to marry a widow from House Arryn as part of the alliance and support of his brother in the war against the Black faction. This story is an Anon Request, sorry it took me so long. I know anon wanted it to be a softer and sweeter story, but it didn't fit Aemond's character and what I think would be going on in his head. The female character has a specific eye and hair color. Lots of humiliation, violence and chauvinism. ]

Part 2 − Object of Despair Part 3 − Object of Delight Epilogue

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

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He thought the greatest humiliation of his life was behind him when he lost an eye, when his brother and nephews gave him a pig instead of a dragon. He thought that now that he was a man, rider of the greatest dragon walking the earth, he would finally get everything he deserved − a wife from a dignified, respected House, and with her an offspring, his inheritance, an extension of his lineage.

He could not hide his expression of disappointment, disgust and bitterness when his mother informed him that instead of one of Lord Baratheon's daughters he would be marrying Lord Arryn's niece − his grandfather, intent on strengthening his brother's position on the throne felt that depriving Rheanyra of the support of the Eyrie, her mother's kin, would greatly weaken her in the ongoing war.

He would have endured this change without a word were it not for one thing.

The woman was a fucking widow.

Already intimate with another man who had taken her maidenhood, she was worn, marked, like an overbitten apple that now someone had to eat to the end to keep it from rotting.

He imagined in the back of his mind how the court, which both feared and mocked him, would spread rumours that the One-Eyed Prince was not only crippled but must marry a woman devoid of value and her greatest virtue, for no other lady would agree to be his wife.

However, he knew what duty was and intended to fulfil it.

Despite his mother's suggestion, he did not want to see her before the nuptial day. He felt that he did not want to further exacerbate her bad enough appearance in his eyes; he feared that she was not only worthless but plain ugly, her mind empty and shallow.

Although the nuptials were to take place in the noble family, knowing that this would not be her first wedding it was decided that the whole ceremony would be modest, only the most loyal lords and relatives who supported their cause were invited.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror in shame and disgust, at his emerald tunic adorned with golden threads swirling in embroidery reminiscent of dragon's heads, he thought it seemed too refined for such an occasion, for such a woman who could offer him nothing.

He knew that there was no fault of hers in her husband's sudden passing from this world, that it was pure politics, but he could not help thinking that it would have been better if she had died with him.

Waiting for her in the Great Sept, he felt nothing − he had not even bestowed a single glance on her when he heard the sound of trumpets, indicating that she and her father had entered the temple and were heading towards him.

As he felt her presence beside him he immediately noticed out of the corner of his eye that she was dressed in a blue gown, flowers of the same colour in her hair − curiosity forced him to at least glance at her and he swallowed loudly as his gaze met her violet eyes.

The colour of the Targaryens.

He froze, feeling his heart suddenly begin to beat faster, unable to look away from her irises, from her long, dark lashes and eyebrows surrounding her eyes like a sky surrounding the sun − unintentionally his gaze studied quickly her entire silhouette and face.

He swallowed with difficulty, turning his head away, realising that her figure was pleasingly girlish, she was young, too young in his eyes to be a widow − her dark hair was tied back, myosotis tucked into her curls at the sides of her head, her gown made of some thin, smooth, shiny material shimmering blue and purple at the same time.

He couldn't focus on what the Septon was saying; he only glanced at her again when Daeron handed him the cloak with which he was to cover her − her gaze fixed on him, her eyebrows arched in sorrow as if she was in pain, her eyes gleaming, slightly reddened, as if she was barely holding back tears.

He felt like asking if she was so disgusted with him, but no sound came out of his mouth.

With a stony face expressing indifference, he threw his cloak embroidered with a three-headed red dragon over her back and then took her hand in his, small and surprisingly smooth.

She didn't look at him when, in a trembling, soft voice, she repeated the words of her vows with him. He tried to remember her doing it for the second time in her life, that she was someone else's, warming someone else's bed, but he couldn't.

She seemed so innocent.

They hadn't exchanged a word during the wedding feast; he watched from the corner of his eye her demeanour, her face − she seemed to him absent, sad, ashamed.

He thought with a squeeze in his throat, filled with jealousy and envy, that she was a beautiful young woman, and someone had her before him.

He took a loud, impatient sip of wine from his cup, its tart, slightly sweet aftertaste spilling over his tongue, dulling his mind.

He felt like his head was going to burst.

They both tried to put it off for as long as they could, however, eventually his mother suggested that his spouse was surely tired and should retire to bed.

He pressed his lips together at her words, rising silently, looking at this strange, frightened girl out of the corner of his eye, her face turned towards him, her eyes open wide in terror.

"Come, wife." He hummed coldly, without emotion and heard her swallow hard − she followed him quietly as he left the hall, heading down the dark torch-lit corridors to his chamber.

He watched indifferently as her servants helped her undress from her beautiful gown, slowly untangling the curls of her hair, one of them wanted to remove the flowers from them, but he protested.

"No. The flowers are to stay. Let at least some semblance of innocence and purity remain." He sneered, saw that the corners of her mouth twitched, her eyebrows arched in pained humiliation.

He cocked his head, intrigued that she endured his words and what was happening with such humility.

He thought that if she behaved like this, perhaps he would take pity on her and actually put his child inside her, so that she could somehow regain her dignity, to be the mother of his heir.

"That's enough." He said at last, when she was left only in her nightgown, from under which he could see the outline of the pleasing shapes of her womanly body, waiting patiently until they were left alone.

She was looking somewhere far away, sad, tired, humiliated, her face, although pale, as if filled with mourning, was smooth and pleasant, the shade of her eyes seemed to him more blue in the firelight.

Proof that they shared ancestors, a common heritage.

For some reason he felt some kind of affection for her at the thought.

He got up from his seat with a loud creak of wood, walking with a slow, lazy step towards her − he saw that she twitched but did not look at him, her lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath, betraying her nervousness.

He walked around her, looking at her as if she were an object, assessing her figure, the shade of her hair, the shape of her face from every angle. She swallowed quietly and lifted her chin, looking at him with some kind of challenge, a decision that she would accept what was about to happen and give him no reason to mock her.

He hummed at the thought, stepping behind her, feeling her flinch all over as she felt his large hands touch her waist and then slide lower, to her womb − he felt surprised, licking his lips with his tongue, that his manhood swelled hard in his breeches when, in some sudden, involuntary reflex, her small hands grabbed his wrists, yet not stopping his movements, just trying to maintain some semblance of control over what was happening.

She let the air out of her lungs nervously, closing her eyes for a moment as his nose sank into her sweet-smelling, smooth hair, his hands stroking her lower abdomen trailing over it in tender, slow movements as if he imagined she was already carrying his child, his reason for being proud and pleased with her.

"This poor man, whose name I can't even remember, died without an heir. Why?" He whispered in her ear, a note of menace in his voice, his fingers digging into the fabric of her nightgown and her stomach, forcing her to take a step back, bumping into his throbbing manhood pushing against her buttocks. He heard her gasp softly, swallowing loudly, her body quivering in his embrace.

"The will of the Gods." She replied softly, her voice melodious, warm, pleasant to his ear. He hummed again, acknowledging her answer, his hands again beginning to stroke her womb in an unhurried, tender gesture.

"Why would I need a wife who won't give me an inheritance? Hm?" He asked in a tone as if he was curious and intrigued − he felt her whole body tense up in fear knowing that he was mocking her.

She drew in air loudly, suddenly tightening her fingers on his arm as his hand slid lower, between her thighs, the tips of his fingers began to brush her there with calm, steady strokes.

His free hand rose higher, to her neck, tightening around it warningly when he felt her buttocks begin to rub against his length, feeling a pleasant wave of heat surge through his spine and lower abdomen. He looked down at his fingers between her thighs, even through the material feeling the moisture leaking through it.

"A wife is a gift. Like a sword, a book or a horse." She cooed softly, responding with a rocking of her hips to the touch of his fingers. He involuntarily chuckled at her words, charmed that she understood exactly his approach, that her mind was not obscured by bottomless female fantasies, but stood in reality.

"Why would I need a chipped sword, an empty book, or a blind horse?" He asked lowly, his hand from her neck moved higher − his fingers cupped her cheeks, forcing her to turn her head towards him, to look at him, her violet eyes misty, bright, beautiful.

She smiled and giggled softly, startling him completely, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"It's amusing to hear you speak about blindness, husband. I hope the lack of your eye doesn't bother you anymore." She whispered with a satisfaction that made him snort in fury − she squealed quietly and closed her eyes as his fingers dug into her cheeks and shook her, as if he wanted her to come to her senses and remember who she was standing in front of.

"You are nothing, whore. Do you understand? Nothing. A worn-out cup to be filled with seed. I don't have an eye, but I do have a fucking dignity that my mother deprived me of by forcing me to marry a creature like you." He hissed, shaking her head violently once in a while, wanting it to get into her little empty head what he had just said.

She looked at him with hatred, her gaze seeming darker, more dangerous to him, her tongue hitting her palate with a quiet click of her saliva as she whispered a single word in his direction.

"Pathetic."

He didn't even know when his hand tightened in her hair, slamming her head against the table that stood in front of them forcing her to lean forward with a violent gesture − she squirmed loudly and cried out, clenching her fingers on the tabletop as she tried to catch her balance − he kicked her ankle with his foot forcing her to spread her thighs wider.

"You like it rough, hm? You find yourself better at being a whore than a wife? Very well then." He growled, his free hand undoing the buckles of his tunic, untying his breeches quickly, releasing his throbbing erection, giving it a few sure squeezes at the base, for some reason what was happening, their quick, rapturous breaths aroused him even more.

"Fucking male pride. Take what you want, you won't break me." She hissed with such hateful envy that he chuckled out loud, somehow impressed by how brazen she was.

"There's a little dragon burning inside you, isn't it? We shall see. I'm a man full of patience." He sneered, lifting her nightgown up in an impatient motion, exposing what was between her thighs, her rosy, puffy folds glistening with her moisture.

She pressed her lips together, struggling to hold back the sound of discomfort as he pushed against her, forcing the fat, pink head of his cock between her tight walls. He sighed heavily, feeling how wonderfully she clenched around him on all sides, hot and surprisingly soft.

"− fuck −" He gasped out, spreading her thighs wider with his leg − she cried out loudly as he sank all the way into her with one sure thrust, her fleshy muscles throbbing againt him in panic.

They both began panting loudly as, in some subconscious, natural reflex, he began to pound into her with the impatient, aggressive stabs of his hips.

"− fucking whore −" He growled angrily, clamping his hand painfully tight on her hair, her mouth parted wide in a helpless moan as he suddenly quickened his pace, looking down, feeling a wonderful thrill of elation at the sight of his manhood opening her slick folds wide again and again with deep, brutal thrusts of his hips.

"− bastard −" She cried out, responding however to the pushes of his hips with a fierceness from which his voice stuck in his throat. He was no longer sure, groaning low with pleasure, feeling the way her walls squeezed him wonderfully, sucking him inside, whether what they were saying was true or just a test of strength and dominance, an attempt to establish who would have the last word.

"− shut the fuck up − to think you still have the strength to babble − shall I put it in your mouth so you'll finally be quiet? −" He snorted through clenched teeth, gripping his free hand over the soft, smooth skin of her firm buttocks, slamming into her like mad.

It seemed to him that they were both moaning and panting too loudly, as if they were in some kind of frenzy, his thighs slapping against her bare skin with a sticky smack again and again, barely sliding out of her.

"− fuck − o-oh fuck, stop −" He gasped out as he felt her muscles suddenly clench greedily against his manhood at his words, intensifying his sensations. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes as he heard sweet, loud moans of fulfillment begin to erupt from her throat, her body trembling all over − she whimpered when he didn't slow down, chasing his own fulfilment.

"− I know − fuck, just a moment longer − shhh −" He hushed her and groaned low, sighing in relief when he felt that wonderful, relaxing feeling, bliss in his mind and whole body, delight as his seed spilled deep inside her, right where it belonged.

His hips rocked inside her a moment longer with her mumble of displeasure, her eyes closed, her breathing ragged, her fingers trailing over the table top as if she couldn't calm down.

"− it's alright − easy − it's alright −" He whispered, panting heavily, stroking her soft hair with slow, tender gesture, her eyebrows arched in pain as she wept loudly, tears one after another began to run down her face.

He wasn't sure if she was crying from relief that she had it behind her or from grief that she had to go through this again.

"− I know − I know −" He hummed, running his fingers over her smooth, dark curls, for some reason feeling the need to reassure her, fulfilled and content after what had happened between them, his half-soft manhood still twitching deep inside her, all slick from their shared moisture.

"− I don't blame you, wife − that man was weak, as was his seed − you will soon bear me a son −"

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar

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thisonehere · 3 months ago

Text

A Match Made In Hell

Cheating!Bi-Han x Reader

A/n: This was a lot more late than I wanted it to be but I'm glad I finally got it done. I love Bi-Han but this idea was just constantly in my head so I just had to write about it.

Edit: Part 2

Tags: MK 1, MK AU, cheating, drabble

C/w: Cheating, angst, mentions of sex, Y/n kinda snaps, sad ending

Today was the day, Bi-Han was finally coming home. You buzzed happily before your vanity, carefully analyzing every feature of your face. You admire the flowers that you delicately braided into your hair. They were from your garden, you planted them with the intention of wearing them the day Bi-Han finally returned to you.

Unbeknownst to Liu Kang, Bi-Han has been very active in building a place for the Lin Kuei in the new world. He has been leaving many times to create alliances, defeating enemies, collecting power for his clan to prosper. Bi-Han felt discontent with the role they had played for the longest, he once even said that they were basically Liu Kang's lap dogs.

The moment when he used his men as test dummies for those two farmers and an actor was the final straw for him. You remember how he was that night, he was in such a state of fury and devastation that you consoled him for hours. The next day he gathered up a small group of trusted Lin Kuei and went somewhere in secret. He then came back with allies and new resources. It's been like that ever since.

You hated it when he left, especially now, this is the longest he had been gone. You were alone many nights in your shared bed missing him, wondering if he was thinking about you like you were thinking about him, missing you like you missed him. Whenever he was gone, you would go to Kuai and Tomas for support. But no, He had taken them along as well, much to their protest.

You were so scared so many times, you feared that the last you would ever see him sad when he left, he dodged and planted a kiss on your forehead, promising to come back to you. It had been months since that day had passed, so many were you scared that you would receive news that something happened to him, that he had died. Out of respect to you, she had called you to her office to be the first to receive the news.

Thankfully that sooner ended when Sektor had announced that not only was Bi-Han alive, he had also successfully created a major alliance with a strange clan from the Netherrealm, the sisterhood of shadow led by someone known as Quan Chi. Bi-Han had sent her a letter describing it all, he specifically brought one of the members, a demoness known Sareena. He brought her up quite a few times, whenever he did he spoke adamantly about her, almost praising her, which was odd because that wasn't something Bi-Han ever really did.

But you didn't think about it much, you were so overjoyed to hear this, to know that your husband was safe and coming home. You bursted into tears of joy and relief right there, it was embarrassing but you couldn't care at that second. Ever since then you have been excitedly preparing for Bi-Han's I'd return. You acquired his favorite tea to serve him, you baked his favorite pastries to feed him, you pressed and ironed the dress you knew he loved. Now the day was here, you were practically shaking with excitement to see him again.

Once you were satisfied with how you looked, you leaned back into youu chair, rested your eyes, and fantasized about the moment Bi-Han would walk through the door. The way he takes you into his arms and kiss passionately, then you'd stay up all night so you could show him just how much you missed him. You could hardly wait.

You were soon snapped out of your daydreaming when you heard something outside, the deafening roar of thousands cheering. You knew that meant one thing: Bi-Han was finally here.

...

Thousands of Lin Kuei gathered around the main entrance to welcome Bi-Han. They roared deafening cheers as their Grandmasters led the procession of his group through the crowd. His heart swelled with pride and so many gathered to welcome him home. It was a welcome one too, this journey was the most periless one he has faced yet, but it was also the most rewarding. He acquired very powerful assets in this journey.

There’s one specifically that valued most of all.

He looked behind him to look for them, and he was met with the unhappy looks of disapproval painted his brothers face. Not much to Bi-Han’s surprise, his brothers have been against what he has been doing for the longest. They have fought and protested every step of the way. Venturing into the Netherrealm caused the worst one yet.

"This is Insanity!" He remembered Tomas protesting, they were standing before a portal to the Netherrealm. Kuai and Tomas were trying their hardest to convince not to do this. "No, this is necessary, for our clans future." Bi-Han said. He attempted to approach the ort but Kuai blocked his path. "Our future is with Liu Kang and serving Earthrealm. Not this, not joining hands with devils."

Bi-Han just stared at Kuai and shook his head disbelief, "Serve? The Lin Kuei aren't servants, we're warriors. Liu Kang squanders our potential, uses us to play his trivial games and puts us back on the shelf when he is done with us, forbidding us from growing, stifling our true potential. We must make a deal with demons to finally reach it...then so be it" It is so good for Bi-Han to finally say this, for so long he had kept his thoughts inside, but the past successes in obtaining allies emboldened him to speak freely.

Kuai stared at him in disbelief, he looked at his brother like he was a stranger. Bi-Han pushed past him and to the portal.

And now here they are, the mission was a success and now his warriors celebrated him. Bi-Han tried to look past his brothers for his special guest, but he did not see it, he turned forward to continue his walk with his men. He scanned the celebration about him. So many happy faces celebrating him, a slight smile spread across his face. But then notices some people in the crowd begin part as he passes, making way for someone so that they could though. Bi-Han's smile quickly fades who they were making way for...you.

You were standing in his favorite dress, your hair done just the way he likes with flowers in them. You smile at him, tears of joy begin to well up in your eyes. At that second, everything came back to Bi-Han, he remembered you, his marriage to you, how you adored him...how he betrayed you.

You looked so beautiful, it hurtled Bi-Han to look at you after all he has done while he was away.

So he didn't look at you, he avoided eye contact and sped up his pace. You were no doubt hurt by this, the image of your sad and confused face flashed in Bi-Han's head, causing him to go even faster. He drowned you out with sound the thousands cheering for him.

...

W-What was that?

As part of the celebration, a banquet was to be held in Bi-Han's honor this evening. They were all celebrating, drinking until they blacked out drunk and chattering until throats hurt, and you outside tried not to freak out. Bi-Han looked away from you like you were nothing, not his wife who has been by his side for years, but like just another one of his nameless Lin Kuei. You were pacing the floor, outside the entrance to the Banquet.

Were you just overreacting? Maybe, Bi-Han would never purposely ignore you or do anything to hurt you... r-right? You feel silly right now, every one is having a good time inside and you're here overthinking something that's not even that big of a deal. It just hurts though, you have spent so many nights alone, longing for him, missing him so much that it hurt, only for him to not even send you a loving smile then he comes home.

Maybe he's just tired, he did travel a long way after dealing with a long and stressful journey. That's right, he was tired you are just overreacting. That's what you are desperately trying to convince yourself, but deep down inside a feeling won't relent its protest. It's trying to tell you that something's wrong, deeper and deeper do you try to suppress. But it's still so loud.

Something's wrong... Something is very wrong.

"Y-Y/n?"

You hear a gentle voice behind you. Part of you wishes it was Bi-Han. But when you turn around you are met with Tomas's gentle smile. It's not Bi-Han, but you are happy to see his face nonetheless. "Welcome back, Tomi, I missed you" You warmly embrace Tomas, he returns your embrace with a similar joy. You and him were very close. Whenever Bi-Han was cold or too harsh to him, there you were with cookies and a loving smile. He was like a brother to you, seeing him makes you almost forget all about your worries. "Did you grow while you were away?" You jokingly ask, trying your best to mask the pain and worry. "Not at all...but I fear you might've shrunk." Tomas jokes back at you with a light chuckle. Seeing him brings you an ease that had evaded you for so long, you missed his smile, you missed his laugh, you missed... Bi-Han...

Suddenly all the pain and confusion washes over you again. "I noticed you weren't at the banquet, you were still out here, so I wanted to see if everything was alright." Tomas gave you a concerned yet knowing look, causing you fear that he somehow knew what you were going through. "I-I'm okay, I just-uh-had a few duties to attend to before I joined you." You lied, you forced a smile on your face. But you could just tell by the way Tomas looks at you that he knew that you weren't okay. Something flashes past his eyes, guilt. As if he knows something and hea feels sorry for keeping it this long. An uncomfortable silence passed between you two, it was like there was an elephant in the room that had yet to be addressed.

"So how was the trip." You finally say. "Well, I went to hell so.." you softly chuckled as you blush in embarrassment. "Right, sorry. How was hell? Wait, don't tell me, I don't want to know." Tomas paused as he thought for a second. "Imagine everything horrible you can think of, everything that scares you, your worst fears and insecurities...and multiply that by the highest number you can think of."

"Uh...okay, say no more. I'm happy that you're back."

Tomas smiles in agreement. Once again you notice a look on his face, like there's something he wanted to tell you but he didn't know how. "Y/n...there's something I need to tell you. Something that happened while we were away. It's about Bi-Han."

"There you two are." A drunk Kuai interrupted as he exited the banquet and ran up to hug you. He was warm like always, with a smile on his face as he greeted you. I smiled, it felt nice for them to be back. But you wanted to hear what Tomas was going to say. What happened with Bi-Han? Oh gods, did something happen to him? Did someone hurt him? But you don't have time to wonder as Kuai guides you inside. Tomas lowers his head in shame at not telling you.

...

The event was in full swing, Kuai guided you through the chaotic mass of Lin Kuei drinking conversing which created a meat deafening cacophony of crude jokes, gossiping, and cheering. After he got you past a drunk Sektor and Cyrax, you finally got to you table. The table with Bi-Han.

As grandmaster, his was the biggest of all of them, decked with precious ornaments and decoration made from the purest gold and decorated with diamonds. "Only the finest for our grandmaster." You all agreed when setting this all up. You remember how much care you put in placing every decoration and how you slaved away in the kitchen to make his favorite cake. Bi-Han often insisted that he hated cake, but he never hesitated in taking a slice whenever you baked it. You wanted this celebration to be special, you thought of him with every step of the way.

Now there he was, sitting at the center of the table, drinking the wine you chose just for hims . At the sight of him it felt like everything froze, you forgot Kuai was there, you forgot everyone in the room. You stared nervously at him as you approached. It's odd, after all these years the man still makes you feel butterflies in your stomach. "Husband." Bi-Han froze at the sound of your voice. He looks up to you, your heart nearly melts the sight of his dark eyes as he stares you down. You can't read if he is surprised to see you or it's dread

"Wife." He finally said, a hint of longing can be sensed in his voice as he rose to his feet. He gently places a hand in your cheek as he looks into your eyes. "I... I have missed you dearly." You fight as you feel the grandmaster's touch, it had been something you have been deprived of for so long. A few years begin to escape your eyes as your lips spread into a smile. "Bi-Han, I have missed you too. I missed you so much I-I" he shushes you and kisses your forehead. He then tales you into his arms and holds you. That's not something he usually does, especially in public, it was almost like he was feeling guilty of something. But you didn't care. Everything felt right right now, you forgot all about your ridiculous worries from earlier. Everything is fine now, everything is jus-

"Bi-Han?"

You hear an unfamiliar voice behind you. Bi-ha lets you go as quickly as this new voice immediately takes his attention. You turn to see who is speaking, and you are a strange woman with white streaks going down her black hair. She stares at Bi-Han that at you curiously. Her black eyes especially linger on you for some time, like she was trying to make sense of you. "Yes, Y/n, this is Sareena. Sareena, this is Y/n...my wife." You and Sareena's eyes meet for a second, you look her up and down and she looks you up and down. Neither of you know of what to make of the other.

Finally, you force a smile onto you face "Sareena...so you're the sareena that I've heard so much about." You say as you hug her, much to Bi-Han and her surprise. You take in her scent, it's something unearthly yet familiar... familiar as in you smelt it on Bi-Han as you hugged him. You release from your hug as you continue to smile, that small part of you started screaming louder and louder that something was wrong, and you began to listen to it more and more.

"It's so nice to meet the infamous Sareena, the devil that has captivated my husband so." you continue to smile, and Sareena smiles at you too. Bi-Han is quick to cut in between you two "Sareena has been a most valuable asset in my venture. She helped me travel through the Netherrealm and make my deal with Quan Chi. She has been by my side ever since." Bi-Han smiled at Sareena...He SMILED at Sareena! That's something he has hardly ever done. He has never smiled at you, in public at least. The more that you think of it actually, you don't ever really remember Bi-Han smiling that much at all. A ugly feeling arises inside of you, you can't describe it. It just feels so ugly hateful, but you continue to smile.

The night went, you didn't touch your plate, you didn't drink, all you could was sit there and stare blankly into the distance. Sometimes Kuai or Tomas would try to strike a conversation with you. You replied with short answers, quickly ending them. And Bi-Han? Your husband whom you thought you'd be smiling and laughing with all night? Oh, he was completely enthralled with his demon friend. He smiled at her, laughed with her,he seemed to be all over her. You sat there helplessly as you watched them, not sure exactly what to do. You just kept smiling.

...

Sareena arose from her chair, "I need to, um, relieve myself." She lied as she walked away. Before she left, she gave Bi-Han a certain look to follow her. Bi-Han waited a few moments. Finally, you seem to be distracted by Tomas so he arises from his seat and follows her.

He walked down the dark hallway until he saw her standing at the doorway, her arms crossed with a mischievous smirk on her face. "You know, for a demon, lying is not your strongest suite." Sareena grabs Bi-Han and pulls him into a room, and they begin to violently kiss. His hands tangled themselves in her hair as he pressed her against the wall.

While Bi-Han was in the Netherrealm, and Sareena met. He was in awe of her strength and her deadly beauty. He loved, he truly did, but he often saw you as...weak, too soft. Being with Sareena was something so different yet amazing at the same time. She shared his ambitions,was as vicious as him, murderous to the point that it was scary, but he loved it all. She was everything he ever dreamed of and more, how could he not desire her?

His brothers were furious over this newly found entanglement. "What about Y/n?" Kuai questioned. Bi-Han valued you as he always did, it was you who was always by his side no matter what. Your love for him was so pure and strong that he doubted anything would ever kill it. It would be a shame to damage that love by telling you, so he rationed that he would never let you find out.

But the moment Bi-Han laid eyes on again after being away from you for so long...guilt immediately began to eat at him. He remembered all those nights you were up consoling him, listening to his thoughts no matter how silly he thought they were. He remembered how you would take care of stitching his wounds, the loving yet concerned looks you would give him. You offered him comfort and solace that Sareena could never. He remembered how much you adored him, and he had betrayed you.

But Bi-Han tries to fight this guilt, he attempts to suppress it with every kiss he gives to Sareena. "Worried about your little bride?" Sareena says, somehow sending the guilt. Bi-Han just rolls his eyes as he begins to undo his shirt. "Never, She is the least of my worries. Right now...I need you" And with that, they begin to kiss more passionatly as they take each other's clothes off...not noticing you standing right there.

...

When you would read romance books, they always described heartbreak as being completely shattered, left in a state of screaming and tears. But you...you felt nothing inside. You felt cold and hollow, like you were dead. All you could do was stare at your husband and the demoness as they began to embrace, as he entered her. You often wondered what you'd do if you were ever in this situation. You always thought you would make a scene, scream as loud as possible and maybe throw something.

You stared at your husband and you just walked away. You descended the steps and entered your room and sat yourself down at your vanity. You took the flowers out of your hair as you stared blankly at your reflection. You looked down at your dress, no longer did you think it looked beautiful, in fact you thought it was the ugliest thing you ever saw. You take it off and throw it somewhere. Tears were falling down your face but you didn't even notice them you looked over at the bed, his side of it. So many nights you spent up worrying for him, praying for him...and he does this to you?

Finally, you begin to emote. You start to laugh. The tears don't stop falling but you don't stop laughing either. You laugh harder and harder and tears fall heavier and heavier as you stare blankly at you vanity.

...

When Bi-Han finished, he returned to the party, he expected to see you still there, laughing with Tomas and Kuai. He was hoping to see your sweet face after what he just did, perhaps it would make him feel better about what he did, or worse. But you weren't. You were gone and there was his brother's shooting him a disgusted look as if they knew what he had just done. Bi-Han ignores them and searches the area for you, but you were nowhere to be seen. He left the festivities to go search for you.

He went up the steps and entered your room and he found you sitting at you vanity, it's mirror shatter and if you threw something at it. But you didn't bother by this at all, you just gleamed at him with that sweet smile he knows you best for. "Husband" you smile as you rise up out of your seat and gracefully walk up to him. "You weren't at the banquet."

"And you came to check on me?"

He nods, he stares into your eyes and remembers just how much you mean to him. He reaches out and hugs you, much to your surprise. But you didn't resist him, you instead melted into his arms. "Did you enjoy the party?" You ask, sounding so sweet, so innocent. Bi-Han just responds with a nod and short "Mhmm" sound.

"Did you enjoy Sareena too?"

Your voice kept its sweet tone, you asked it like it was nothing that big. But Bi-Han froze at this, he releases you stared at you, a little bit of horror forms on his face. He looks into your eyes and notices that they're glazed just a little bit. "You're drunk." He says dismissive. You just stare back at him and shake your head slowly. It was at that second that Bi-Han noticed that you were holding something in your hands, bags, you were leaving.

You attempt to walk past him but he blocks your path. "What do you think you're doing?" The look he gives is a very stern one, but you've known him long enough to see fear in his eyes. "I'm leaving." You grip the bags tighter as you stare at the door, it hurts too much to look at him. "You will not." He says sternly like you were asking. "Why, you have Sareena now."

"I don't want Sareena...I want you."

"Yet you 'need' Sareena." You finally find the strength to look him in the eyes. Tears blurred your vision, you wanted so desperately to go out strong, yet you began to cry. "Why?" that is all you can bring yourself to say. "Why wasn't I good enough for you? What did I fail to do that a demon could? I-I love you, I'd kill for you, I'd die for you. Why wasn't I enough for you? You were enough for me... you're everything to me..." Your voice begins to crack, but you can't care anymore. You look into Bi-Han's eyes for answers, but he avoided your gaze.

He doesn't stop you from pushing past him and going out the door. A crowd had formed outside the Banquet hall, seems that the party had ended. You were a slobbering mess as you marched through the crowd, avoiding all their confused gazes. You saw Kuai and Tomas, they could tell what happened. They gave you a mournful yet understanding look as you passed. You saw Sareena, you both gave the other a cold glare as you passed.

You made your way to the nearest gate out of the Artika. You stared at the large structure, you hesitated slightly. You're leaving everything you built, everything you loved behind...you looked behind you and noticed that the crowd began to part as they made way for Bi-Han. He stared at you longing and you returned the look. Neither of you wanted this to end, neither of you wanted you to leave.

It was so painful to look at him, so you put it on the ground and you opened the large door and walked out into the cold night.

...

A/n: Well that was heavy. I'm gonna have to do a lot of fluffy stuff to make up for this lol.

Btw, should I like to do a part two where Y/n and Bi-Han get back together?

Edit: Part 2

#mk1 #mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #mk fanfic #mk x reader #mk x y/n #bi han #bi han x reader #bi han sub zero #sareena #drabble #sad ending

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hannahbarberra162 · 2 months ago

Text

The Crocodile's Gambit (Croc x Reader)

on Ao3

The Crocodile’s Gambit (1/2)

Croc x F!Reader

Fluff in this chapter, angst and fluff in the next.

WC: 3.3k

Summary: Crocodile needs a chess partner before he impales Buggy out of frustration. Again. He finds one in a most unlikely place. Set after the abolition of the Warlord system, right before Cross Guild is formed.

~~~

There were a few things that Crocodile missed about Nico Robin. The first being, she was incredibly competent. When Crocodile hired someone, he assumed they could do their job without being told how to do it. He didn’t want to have to micromanage anyone, especially grown adults. He loathed having to check in and make sure every step of a process was done correctly. He’d never had to do that with Robin, she was smart and capable. Anything he assigned her, she executed flawlessly.

But what he missed more than her competence was her chess playing ability. She was the only opponent within Baroque Works who had ever won against him. Her success rate was about 15%, which was significantly higher than anyone else Crocodile had played in years. Crocodile enjoyed winning chess matches but even more than that, he enjoyed losing them. He loved the challenge, the strategy, the simplicity, the complexity, everything about chess. And he especially loved it when he found someone who could best him.

Which made his stay with the complete idiot Buggy all the more intolerable. He and Mihawk were meeting with the Clown to determine whether a joint venture would be viable. After the absolution of the Warlord system, Crocodile had approached Mihawk for a business proposal. Crocodile had connections, money, and business acumen but didn’t like the spotlight. Mihawk had power and the reputation of the World’s Greatest Swordsman. Together, they could become unstoppable. Then, the question of the Clown arose. Buggy owed Crocodile a lot of money, Crocodile was ready to kill the Clown and be done with his foolishness completely. However, something the Clown had that neither of them did was a large loyal following. For whatever reason, the Clown’s crew were loyal to the death for their Captain. Any time the Clown docked his garish ship, he was greeted with fanfare and celebrations. There were waiting lists with hundreds of applicants, all waiting for a chance to be on Buggy’s crew. Crocodile didn’t understand why, but people were charmed by the Clown’s charisma.

Crocodile and Mihawk had been in negotiations with the Clown for a few days. It was slow going - each iteration of an alliance between the three of them had many stipulations and conditions that had to be discussed. Crocodile was fairly certain the venture would fail and he’d kill the Clown, but he kept his options open. After all, a dead Clown made no money at all.

Crocodile was in desperate need of a good chess opponent, he felt his stress rising by the minute. Unfortunately, he knew he wasn’t going to find someone within the Clown’s ridiculous crew of idiots and low-lifes. Mihawk was a decent chess opponent, but the swordsman was rarely in the mood to play. Business dealings with the Clown left both of them irritated, and Mihawk’s outlet wasn’t chess. Each of them had their own room and office on Buggy’s ship, and Crocodile had his chess set sitting out at all times in his office, just like at home. He tried reviewing games he’d played against other opponents and playing against himself, but none of it was as entertaining as playing against another person. One morning before his meetings began, he moved a white pawn to an opening position on the board. He left for the meeting and forgot about chess for a few hours as he dealt with the Clown’s buffoonery and Mihawk’s recalcitrance.

Returning to his office for an after lunch break, he was about to read the newspaper when he noticed someone had moved black, opposing his white pawn at e5. It had to be someone on the ship, but who? Mihawk had been with him in the meeting. Daz wasn’t a good player, he hadn’t played with Croc in years. No one from Buggy’s crew was smart enough, and Crocodile hadn’t brought anyone but Daz. Crocodile wasn’t concerned about someone infiltrating his office, but he was concerned about his growing boredom and irritation. If he didn’t find a good opponent soon, he’d probably kill the Clown before it was advisable. He decided to play the opening to the King’s Gambit, moving his pawn to f4, next to the first. Once it was time to leave for the next meeting, he knew whoever had moved the black pawn wouldn’t last more than 5 moves against him.

He was wrong. It was Crocodile who was now outclassed, outplayed, and outmaneuvered. Crocodile played delayed games against the mystery person as his meetings continued and hadn’t won a single match. Crocodile hadn’t lost this many games in decades, and he couldn’t have been happier. Crocodile returned back to his office after every meeting, eager to see his opponent’s next move. His opponent was ruthless, seeing through his plays, gambits, and traps with ease. He skewered Crocodile time and time again, to Crocodile’s delight. Every time he lost, Crocodile placed a gold coin under the black King, which was taken and the board reset the next time Crocodile returned. Crocodile wanted to know who he was playing with, but he was never able to catch the man in action, his office always empty when he returned.

Even though the negotiations were not going well, Crocodile was now having a wonderful time. He didn’t want the venture to end, he wanted to continue playing chess against his opponent. The Clown had noticed the uptick in Crocodile’s mood, asking for more ridiculous clauses in their contracts. It hadn’t helped the negotiations, but Crocodile hadn’t killed the Clown outright yet, which was saying something. Unfortunately, the time for reconciliation was coming to a close. Crocodile wanted to find out who the mystery opponent was and soon. He wanted to shake the hand of the man who had bested Crocodile so thoroughly and offer him a spot on his crew.

So Crocodile waited outside his office before his morning meeting. He wasn’t hiding, that would be childish. He was simply waiting in a concealed location to resolve an issue he was having. True, he could have waited in his office to see who the man was, but that would ruin the fun. And Crocodile hadn’t had fun in years. He would be late for the meeting, but it wasn’t going to be productive anyway, negotiations had stalled. The morning crew was coming in to clean his office - Buggy had a lot of useless staff (and a lot of overhead expenses) but Crocodile appreciated coming back to a clean office daily. He hadn’t really noticed them before, they were all part of the background for Crocodile. They were dressed like all of the other pirates who worked for the Clown - in ugly, lurid circus clothing. The various cleaners split off to their areas, with you entering his office to clean. You wiped down various surfaces, until you got to the board with Crocodile’s most recent move. You studied it for a brief moment, then picked up a black knight.

“What the fuck are you doing woman?” Crocodile recognized Daz’s voice. He must have been passing by, looking for Crocodile.

“Cleaning,” you replied, irritated by the interruption. You put the piece back down where it was previously, to Crocodile’s disappointment.

“Didn’t look like cleaning to me. Leave the Boss’s chess set alone unless you want trouble.” The maid was unconcerned by the threat, rolling her eyes at Daz’s words.

“Game’s over anyway, doesn’t matter,” you muttered. Crocodile’s interest was piqued, was this slip of a woman his opponent? He watched you flip off Daz behind his back as he walked away. You bustled around the office, cleaning once more. As he watched, thinking you may be his opponent, he appreciated your form. You were graceful in your movements and meticulous in your work, and he found you beautiful in an unconventional way. The more Crocodile watched you, the more he realized how attractive you were. The hideous circus clothes you wore didn’t help, you had a huge orange scarf wrapped around your neck. But he saw your immense potential if you wore something less…flashy. It didn’t take you long to finish cleaning, and before you left the room, you moved the black knight, putting Crocodile in checkmate. Crocodile ran his hand through his hair, smiling wickedly.

~~~

After his next meeting, Crocodile cleared his schedule for the rest of the day. He didn’t really care about anything the Clown had to say right now. He was far too interested in his little chess opponent to bother with anything else. He sat in a plush armchair, smoking a cigar, waiting for the time the cleaning crew came in. Around lunch time, you carried your cleaning supplies into the room. You immediately noticed Crocodile sitting in his chair and you started to back out of the room.

“Oh, sorry, I’ll come back -”

“You’ll sit down,” Crocodile intoned, blowing billowing smoke clouds into the room. He gestured to the board in front of him. “Do you know how to play chess?” he asked. He knew you did, he was just curious what you’d say. You were a confident, aggressive chess player, and he wanted to see if that crossed over into your regular personality.

“I do, but I have to -”

“You’re dismissed from your duties for now. Sit. I won’t ask again.” You were a little nervous, but set down your cleaning supplies and sat across from him on another comfortable armchair. You perched on the end of the chair, like you were getting ready to run at a moment’s notice, fiddling with your scarf. Crocodile switched the board, you were now white.

“Go ahead. Start,” he drawled at you, blowing smoke. Your eyes flicked from the board to Crocodile, wary of the situation. Things weren’t completely genial between Crocodile and your Captain, surely you felt the tension on the ship. But you played, moving your pawn to f4. Crocodile parried, moving his pawn to e5, countering your opening. You played your turn, and by the time 15 minutes were up, Crocodile was in checkmate again.

“Checkmate,” you said, leaning forward to stand up. Maybe you wanted to get back to work or maybe you wanted to get away from Crocodile, but neither was going to happen.

“You’re not dismissed,” Crocodile growled, steepling his hand against his hook, pleased with the match. “So, it’s you. You’re my opponent. You’re quite skilled at chess,” Crocodile observed.

“Yeah, it’s me. Do you want your coins back or something?” you replied. You were a little rough around the edges, Crocodile thought, but he could fix that. When you joined his crew, he’d work on your social skills outside of the chess board.

“No, you may keep them, you won them. I would like to make a proposition. I want to play chess with you tonight in the evening. Three games. If you win two out of three, you get 100,000 Beri.” Ideally, you’d play chess with him all day every day, but he would take things one step at a time.

You narrowed your eyes, fiddling with your scarf. “What if I lose?”

Crocodile leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. He spread his hands magnanimously, like he was granting you a favor. “If you lose, you have to join my crew and leave the Clown.”

You pursed your lips, thinking over his deal. “200,000 Beri,” you bartered. Crocodile smiled, enjoying your evident self confidence.

“150,000 Beri per night, 50,000 Beri bonus if you win all three rounds,” he countered. You agreed, shaking his hook with your hand. You were either self assured in your ability to win, or didn’t mind leaving the Clown. Either way, you’d be coming with him when he left.

~~~

Crocodile was down 1,000,000 Beri and no closer to getting you on his crew. He knew you were good, but he hadn’t anticipated you were that good. Crocodile loathed losing money, but in this instance, he didn’t mind handing it over night after night. He thought that playing face to face would increase his chances of winning, but that wasn’t the case. You were even sharper when playing with him in person rather than delayed over the course of hours and days. You were a good sport about winning, and you didn’t gloat. You also took the time to explain your thinking when Crocodile asked you about your thought processes. You did, however, have a crass mouth that Crocodile didn’t care for.

“Sucks to suck,” you replied after Crocodile complained you ended a game too swiftly for his liking.

“Do not speak to your superiors that way,” Crocodile snapped. He was peevish after having lost three games in under an hour.

“If you’re my superior, why do I keep collecting your Beri?” you said impishly. Crocodile nearly smiled at your antics.

“Speaking in such a coarse manner makes you seem less intelligent than you truly are,” Crocodile stated. He hated to see you present yourself like the common boors that made up the rest of the Clown’s crew. You gave him a bored look.

“Give me my pieces and I’ll play you again,” you said. Crocodile was interested in playing a fourth round against you but knew you were trying to change the subject. He picked up your knight he had taken and held it out to you in his hand. You reached for the piece but he closed his hand before you could retrieve it.

“Hand me my pieces, please,” he said.

“Hand me my pieces, please, Sir Crocodile.” You rolled your eyes, but dutifully repeated the phrase. Crocodile smiled at you, and opened his hand once more. You took the knight, your fingers brushing against his palm. It was the first time you’d made physical contact with each other. Crocodile wanted more.

You didn’t let Crocodile win or handicap yourself when you faced off, you always played to win. So when Crocodile won his first game, he was over the moon. He was certain you were tired when he’d won, you almost nodded off once during the game. Crocodile was concerned for your wellbeing, and it tarnished his feeling of victory. He was…worried.

“Is the Clown working you too hard? Why are you so tired?” Crocodile queried as you yawned into your hand.

“Someone is making me play chess at night after work,” you replied.

“Please, you’ve been making more than you’d earn in a month in under an hour,” Crocodile scoffed. The games between you didn’t take that long, the Clown must be putting undue stress on you. He’d…fix that for you. You hummed, resetting the board for the third game. Crocodile had enjoyed winning, but didn’t want to play if you weren’t at your best. “Let’s end early tonight. Go rest.”

You looked up at him, unsure of what to do. “But it’s only been two games, and I lost one. If I lose the next one -”

“It is my idea to conclude early, therefore you will not be bound to the usual rules. Go to bed.” Crocodile waved his hand, dismissing you.

“Thank you, Crocodile,” you said softly, lingering by the door for a moment. It was the first time you’d thanked him without his prompting.

As the days went on, you seemed to enjoy Crocodile’s company a little bit, not bolting immediately after he paid you your Beri. You had a keen wit and were able to counter Crocodile’s acerbic remarks with ease. It was obvious to Crocodile early on in your conversations that you were not well read, something else Crocodile wanted to amend. Crocodile loaned you a book about ancient Wano battle theory, asking you to read it as it would improve your chess playing. You returned it the next day, saying you read the entire work. Crocodile questioned you about the contents of the book, trying to see if you had just skimmed it or were lying. But you were able to answer his questions and provide your own insight into the strategies listed.

“What did you think about the treatise on aggressive methods of battle?” Crocodile asked. He had found a lot of useful thought exercises in the book. Having read it in his youth, it had become a cornerstone for his own strategy in becoming a Warlord and businessman.

“In chess? I don’t necessarily agree that aggression should be the foremost method of attack. Aggressive moves only work if it's balanced with knowledge of your opponent. If you don’t know who you’re dealing with, things may not work out the way you planned,” you said while moving your Queen to check Crocodile. Crocodile hummed in agreement. You were clearly intelligent, Crocodile just had to provide you with direction. He knew people were not given the same opportunities in life and was happy to supply you with some.

To that end, Crocodile was now taking an interest in your formal education. He loaned you book after book, and you read them all, sharing your opinions and thoughts on the titles. You had interesting ideas, and Crocodile found himself sharing his own with you. You tended to like mysteries and fiction novels, but read anything Crocodile lent you. You picked up and assimilated new information easily and had unique ideas, things Crocodile would never have thought about on his own. Crocodile found himself sharing his favorite books with you, just to see what you would say.

He appreciated your personality outside of the chess board the more you spent time together. Crocodile tended to make people nervous, it was practically a pastime for him. However, after your initial encounter, you weren’t tense around him at all. You didn’t mince words, you said what was on your mind, even if you knew it would annoy him. You were honest, as far as he could tell, and generally well liked among your crew. He appreciated your looks, but that was secondary to your personality, a first for Crocodile. He even started to appreciate your circus outfits, always completed by a large scarf, no matter the weather. Even without your chess skill, he would have liked to bring you onto his crew. He was going to broach the subject tonight and ask you formally to leave the Clown. He knew you would agree. He was the better choice by a long shot. Crocodile had more money, more power, more influence than the Clown would ever have. He was smarter, stronger, and richer, there was no way you’d want to stay with a second-rate loser like the Clown.

“Checkmate,” you said, moving a rook into place. You smiled at Crocodile, as he ran a hand through his hair. “By the way, that’s your tell.” Crocodile’s eyes snapped to yours.

“What are you talking about? I have no tell,” Crocodile snarled. You smiled again. Anyone else would shortly have been drained of life, but Crocodile found you endearing. Cute, even.

“It’s good to know your own tells,” you continued, undeterred by Crocodile’s outburst. “You run your hand through your hair when you are blindsided. If you can sense something is coming, you don’t. But if you are surprised, well, that’s your tell.” Crocodile paused, no one had shared that with him before. But perhaps no one had surprised him as frequently as you.

“Speaking of surprises, I have something I’d like to ask you,” Crocodile drawled, lighting a new cigar. You were already preparing to leave after the completion of the third game. That was another thing, Crocodile found himself wanting to spend more time with you outside of your matches. Having you on his crew would help with that as well. You sat back down, watching Crocodile calmly, waiting for him to continue. “I’d like you to join my crew.”

“No.”

You declined instantly and decisively. Crocodile ran a hand through his hair, scowling.

#crocodile x you #crocodile x reader #crocodile one piece #x reader #crocodile would be a sore winner #and a sore loser #op x y/n #croc x reader #sir crocodile #i think he'd also be a board flipper

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helplesslypurple77 · 1 month ago

Text

Day 1-Wet dreams-Illumi/Reader

Notes: btw since you also come from a famous assassin clan your last name is Yomi(shadow in japanese, but it doesnt really mean your japanese or any aithnecity) and your parents make a brief appearance. I modeled them barely after my own parents but you can pretty much put any parents over them lol

Title from ‘You Can't Hurry Love' by The Supremes

...

Illumis knew you hated his guts. You walked with purpose from room to room, location to location, perfectly made up and neat in a kimono. You chatted with your assistants, handed out raises generously to the butlers, and laughed and smiled in the garden with your friends. But you barely spared him a glance. All you could muster was a small, fake smile, and maybe if you were in a good mood, a simple greeting.

“Hello, husband.”

You ground out the word ‘husband’ like it was a curse. Illumi would simply blink, and return your greeting.

“Hello, my wife.”

You would smile that fake plastic smile that always managed to appear when he was near, and remove yourself from the situation as fast as possible. Illumi didn't mind your attitude. He had no attachments to you, you were simply a woman his parents had picked. He knew you hadn't volunteered for this, and so he simply let your barbs roll off his shoulders and carried on with his day. He was sure he had no interest in you.

His parents had raised him not to fall for pretty women with pretty smiles. Pretty smiles that were never tossed his way.

He remembered so clearly your first meeting. Years ago, when you were both younger, when you were softer, when you smiled at him.

♡♡♡

“Straighten your collar.” Mother said. Illumis back twitched, reaching up to fiddle with the black collar of his kimono, pulling the white of his undershirt slightly, so it peaked over the outer collar. He felt stiff and trapped. And hot. Mother had combed his shoulder length hair neatly, so it fell prettily around his neck. Illumi felt like a bird, forced to preen for the sake of his parents. eighteen was too young to be engaged. Illumi frowned, brows furrowing across his pale skin.

“Tell me mother,” He asks. “Why must I do this? Why not Miluki.”

His mother cocks an eyebrow, standing across the small waiting room of their house. They are waiting for the guests.

“You're the most presentable of my children,” Kikyo said, straightening the hem of her dark purple kimono. Her eye visor blinked. “Straighten your back and try to make a good impression. That wedding Kimono was your fathers.”

Illumi raises his arm to run a hand through his hair, but freezes and Kikyo's glare. He lowers his hand back down slowly. Kikyo folds her hands delicately across her lap

“You know how important this alliance is, Illumi.” She scolds, “her family will be a vital asset.”

Illumi nods stiffly, adjusting his black haori. He doesn't want to marry. He doesn't want someone tying him down.

“Excited, son?” Silva has arrived, Zeno grumbling behind him. Illumi shakes his head.

“I don't want to marry,” He protests. SIlva laughs, landing a hand on Illumis shoulder.

“I know, but this match is quite important to the future of the Zoldyck clan.” He explains, patting Illumi gently on the shoulder. “Name is a powerful woman, whose talent will certainly be useful in the future. Not to mention an alliance with her family is ideal for us.”

Illumi nods obediently, absorbing the information. But nothing they say truly makes him want to do this. Silva laughs.

“Don't be too upset, son. I hear she's very beautiful.” He says with a chuckle, giving Illumi one last pat on the back, and moving towards Kikyo. She eyes him up and down, taking in his work attire, and sighs a great, gusty sigh. Before she can complain, the main door opens with a slam. They're here.

Kikyo stands tall, Silva next to her, Illumi beside him, Zeno on his other side. They stand in a neat line. Awaiting their visitors.

Illumi can make out five figures. Two silent handmaidens clothed in dark blue kimonos, sharp eyes demurely pointed down. Their obviously trained bodyguards. They walk in front of the three figures, deceptive smiles on their faces.

Next come two older figures. A tall, muscled man, who glares around the room. And a shorter woman, who smiles almost too kindly. They must be your parents, the leaders of your family. And before the, almost surrounded, almost protected, is a figure clothed in white and red.

You stand out brilliantly against the blues and blacks of the backgrounds, the white and red of your kimono almost glowing in the lamplight. But what strikes Illumi silent, is your face. You are beautiful. Illumi feels a weird beating in his chest. Your eyes dart nervously from person to person, never quite landing on him. Illumi fights down the odd desire to move forward, to do something. He doesn't know what. Kikyo is the first to speak

“How lovely to meet you,” She says, moving forward. Your mother moves in return, smiling at Kikyo and moving forward. The adults dissolve into pleasantries. Illumi stays still, as the room springs into motion around him. All he can see is you across from, glowing and clothed in white. Spit is gathering in his mouth, and Illumi gulps it down and moves forward.

“Hello,” He says when he stands before you. He sounds like a robot. You smile shyly, ribbons of hair falling down around your shoulders.

“Hi,” You say, offering a hand. Illumi looks at it. Your hand is small and delicate, with small rounded nails. They shimmered in the light. Illumi had the urge to kiss it. You frown.

“Not one for handshakes?” You ask, disguising your disappointment with a small laugh. Illumi frowns, grabbing your hand as it recedes.

“No!” Illumi gets out a little too eargerly. You look up at him, confusion in your pretty eyes. Illumi takes your hand in his own.

Your hand is soft and the back of his neck and his ears suddenly hot. You giggle nervously as Illumi gently lowers your hand, and a pretty flush graces your cheeks. Illumi almost preens like a bird. You liked him. He liked that. He liked you.

“We haven't introduced ourselves properly,” You say, a smile gracing your painted lips, Illumis eyes follow the movement. He feels strangely hungry.

“Yes,” He says. You wait, and when the silence continues, you speak first.

“I am Name Lastname, oldest daughter of the Yomi family.” You say. Your name is as pretty as you. Illumi nods.

“Illumi Zoldyck, eldest son of the Zoldyke family.” He says. You smile again, posture relaxing a little. Illumis eyes catch on the flash of skin as your collar slides down a bit. He can see a hint of collarbone.

“It's nice to meet you, Illumi,” You say. He likes the way your mouth forms the syllables of his name.

“You too, Name.” He returns. He still sounds like a robot, but as you smile, he feels himself relax a bit. The adults are still chatting around you, in a small circle as they talk about anything and everything, but all he can see is you in front of him. Suddenly, marriage doesn't sound so bad.

“Do you, um, want a tour?” he asks, his voice cracking a bit, he hopes you don't notice. A grin lights up your face, and you nod happily.

Oh yes,” You say, “i'd love one.”

Illumi almost smiles, but instead offers his arm. For a moment, he worries your won't take it. You’ll scoff and roll your eyes and leave to marry a much nicer boy—

Your hand wraps around his arm, heating his cold skin. Illumi shivers. As he leads you through the archway and deeper into the house, he can feel your presence next to him. The scent of your perfume lingers in the air. Intoxicating. Illumi feels hot, flustered, and emberassed. And for the first time in a while, happy.

“Well, what do we have here.”

Illumi looks up, already dreading the sight he knows hes gonna see. Sure enough, Hisoka stands before him, wearing jeans and a black tutrleneck and grinning like the cat that got the cream.

Illumi frowns.

“Whose this?” You asks. Your peartched beside him on the couch of the library, hands folded neatly in your lap. Illumi holds back a groan as Hisokas eyes slide to you. His eyes take you in, your pretty face and your white wedding kimono, and he smirks.

“Yeah Illumi, introduce me to your pretty lady friend.” Hisoka says. You giggle, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Illumi’s stomach sinks.

“This is Name, my fiance.” he says. “Name, meet Hisoka.”

“Hi,” You say, offering your hand to shake. Hisoka grins.

“Positivly enchanted to meet you.” Hisoka says, and grips your hand in his pale fingers, bringing it up to press a kiss to the top. Illumi glares. You giggle again, as the tips of Hisokas red hair brushes your wrist. Illumi glares harder. After what feels like forever, Hisoka recedes, and Illumi watches your hand fall back into your lap.

“So, Illumi.” Hisoka says, plopping between the two of you. “You didint tell me you were engaged.”

“In his defense, we just got engageed today.” You say, and Illumi is certain he can spot a blush across your cheeks. He curses Hisoka as you continue. “Are you guys close?��

“No.” Illumi says. HIsoka pouts very fakely.

“How rude.” He says, and illumi digs his finger into Hisokas side as the man leans over, stage whispering into your ear. “Im his only friend. Hes embarrassed.”

“I see,” You say with a laugh. “How old are you Hisoka?”

“20.” Hisoka says, swiping his hair away from his face.

“Oh, your older than us, huh.” You say, smiling much to nicely for Illumis liking. You sound like your enjoying yourself, and that makes him feel weird.

“You must be the same age as Illumi?” Hisoka asks. He continues at your nod. “Your so pretty and socialable, hes lucky..”

You laugh. Hisoka winks. Illumi jabs a second finger into Hisoka’s side.

“Thanks, your handsome too.” You say. “And very funny. Both of you are.”

Illumi digs a third finger into Hisoka’s side, but it only seems to egg him on. He only shoots Illumi a gleeful grin, then turns back to you.

“Why thank you, dear—”

“Im going to talk to him alone for a moment.” Illumi interrupts him, yaking him by his hair and dragging him away.

“Alright.” You say, waving them away with a smile.

Hisoka blows you a kiss, and Illumi yanks his hair harder, dragging him around a nearby bookcase, and release the hair like it had burned him. Hisoka is grinning from ear to ear.

“You jealous.” He says

“No!” Illumi shouts, then looks around frantically, before shaking his head. “No.” He repeats more calmly.

“Dont be embarrassed,” Hisoka says, leaning against the bookcase. “Its only natural to be jealous of me after all.”

He runs a hand through his hair with a grin. Illumi fake gags.

“Im not jealous.” Illumi says, doing his best to maintain his eaven tone.

“Oh really” Hisoki says, raising an eyebrow into his hairline. “Can i kiss her then?”

Illumi knows it bait. Hisoka is only doing this to annoy him, or taunt him. He always does shit like this. But he still feels all wierd. Illumi takes a deep breath.

“I dont care.” He says, putting on his best performance. “I dont even like her.”

“Oh yeah?” Hisoka asks, folding his arms. “You dont think shes pretty?”

“She’s unremarkable.” Illumi suplies, Hisoka doesnt look like he believes him, so he tries his best. “In everything, from looks to talents, she seems unfit to marry into this family!”

Hisoka’s eyebrow creeps higher and higher, but Illumi maintains his blank stair until he with a sigh. Theres silence for a moment, until Hisoka pushes off the bookcase,

“If you really dont mind, i think i will kiss her.” He says, walking back the way they came.

Illumi moves suddenly, grabbing Hisokas arm in a death grip. Hisoka turns around with a smirk, and sudcenly, Illumi understands hes been got.

“So you do li—”

“Shut up.” Illumi grinds out. “Dont tell.”

Hisoka grins. “Sure.”

♡♡♡

You never were friendly with him after that. You had vanished when he and Hisoka had returned, and you were cold and standoffish in the times he saw you, both before the wedding and in the two years that had passed after it. Illumi didint mind. Not a bit.

His chest feels a bit weird. Illumi brings his hand up, feeling above his heart. Maybe he was injured on todays mission.

He should check that out when he gets back to his quarters. Illumi walks down the long hallway, pausing for a split second in front of the only other door. Your door. You wouldnt want to see him. Still Illumi feels the urge to open your door, go in and see what you were doing. You were probably getting ready for bed. Illumi should just go to his room. With a huff of breath Illumi continues down the hallway and closes his door behin him. His chest is hurting more. He shrugs of his top, pocking at the skin over his heart. Oddly enough, theres no wound, only a few minor cuts on his side and abs.

“Illumi? I need to speake with you.” He hears your voice, coming from the connecting door between your room and his. His heart suddenly feels better.

“Come in.” He says. You enter, closing the door behind you with a creak. The hinges must be rusted. Your eyes skan him up and down taking in his half naked state.

“Why are you shirtless.” You say. Your ears are red, you must be hot.

Illumi gestures at his chest. “Injuries. What did you need to speak with me about?”

You ignore the first part, moving forward with worry. “Your injured?” You say, looking around the room. “Wheres your first aid kit. Ill help.”

“Theres no need.” Illumi protests.

You glare. “Am i that incompetent? Just let me do it.” you say, hands on your hips. Your wearing some satin nightgown thing. Its black, and the silky fabric stops high up on your thighs, fluttering distractingly. The fabric draws his eyes to the unbleamashed skin of your thighs.

You tap your foot on the floor. “First aid box?”

“In the bedside drawer.” Illumi settles back onto the bed with a sigh, you march over, first aid box in your vengeful hands and plop it down onto the bed. Rummaging through it, you find some alcohol and dab it onto a cotton pad. Illumi feels your breath on his skin as you bed over, disinfecting his first wound. He feels weird.

“You wanted to talk to me?” He prompts, ignoring the strange feelings in his gut. The silk of your nightgown slips a little, a black strap sliding down one sholder. You move it back up. Illumi moves his eyes from the movement.

“Oh yeah,” You say, gentle hands placing a bandaid on his wound. “I had tea with Kikyo this afternoon.”

Illumi frowns. Kikyo loves you, and always makes sure to assure him hes lucky to have you. Whenever the two of you have tea, its sure to prelude an angry summon and admonishment. His mother believed he wasnt working hard enough on your relationship. Illumi knew you would prefer he just leave you alone. His mother always rambled on about how you were hurt, and he was a fool. Illumi was not a fool.

“Fun.” Illumi says. You move to disinfect another wound. “How is she.”

“Good. She wants grandchildren.” You say. Your neck is also red. Illumi coughs.

“Are you hot?” Illumi asks. You frown in confusion.

“No?” You say. You look up, and Illumi watches the lace slide across the top of your boobs. He digs a hand into his thigh, trying to mute the arousal starting to creep through his body. He deosnt know much of sexual activity, but he certainly knoews this feeling.

“Ok.” Illumi says. You put one of his brothers discarded little mermaid bandaids on the cut under his left pec. He shivers involuntarily when your nails scrape his skin. “I can get grandchildren.”

You jerck up, a shocked expression on your face. “What?” Your face is flushed, the cotton pad dangling close to falling from your hand. He feels himself swell up, body heating with the things he had implied, and prays you dont notice. Illumi frowns his, heat gathering in his face.

“I can go steal some.” He explains, “Hisoka meantoned a friend of his who—”

“No Illumi.” You say, laughing a little. Illumi is proud he made you laugh. You move back towards him with the cotton pad as you continue. “How is Hisoka doing?”

“Fine.” Illumi says. He feels all grumply all of a sudden, and his heart is hurting again. “Hes fighting at Heavens Arena appearently.”

“That sounds perfect for him.” You say with another chuckle. Illumi feels his fingers dig into his palm, and relaxes them slowly. The arousal, which had faded slightly at Hisoka’s name, comes back in full force as your hands return and you lean down. Illumi gets and eyefull of your boobs, cupped in a plane black braw under the black lace. He looks up abruptly, begging you dont notice. You would probably never talk to him again if he made his arousal obvious. Thankfully your too busy tending to his wounds to notice.

“Anyway, Kikyo gave me something to give to you.” You say, your hand pressing a third bandaid, this one of lego batman, onto his abs. You smooth over it, hands lingering for what feels like hours on his abs. Illumi resists the urge to grab your wrists and guid them a few inches lower, to the part of him that really, really wants it. You sigh, pulling back

“There, all done.” You say.

Illumi feels both let down and relieved as you pull away, as your scent fades away with your body. Suddenly, you’re jerked to a stop.

“Illumi?” You say, glaring down pointedly. For a moment, Illumi fears you’ve discovered his obvious arousal. You’ll probably look at him in disgust or worse, storm from the room and nevver talk to him again. Illumi follows your eyes, and finds his hand has reached out to grab your wrist. He lets it go.

“What did you have to give to me?” he asks, pulling the offending hand back into his lap, trying to subtly cover any hints of his arousal.

“Oh right,” You say. “I forgot it in my room.”

You move through the door again, and Illumi finds his eyes drawn to the sway of satin over your ass. He curses his eyes, and takes a moment to at least try to banish all signs of arousal before you retur n.

“Here,” You say. In your hand is a vhs tape. “She said you should watch it.”

Illumi takes the tape and drops it thoughtlessly onto the bed beside him. You turn, moving back towards the door. Illumi feels the odd urge not to let you leave. Its probably the arousal talking.

“Wait.” He says impulsive. Your turn.

“Yes?” You ask, tapping a foot on the floor. “What else?”

Illumi frowns helplessly. He feels the strongest urge to keep you here with him. But your glaring at him, and he cant come up with an excuse to stop you from leaving. So he lets you go.

“Nothing.”

The door slams behind you and his eyes sink to the Vhs tape beside him. Its obviously old, the label worn with age. It says ‘instructional tape,’. Gingerly, Illumi sets the vhs tape on his coffee table, and with sweaty hands, and arousal pumping through his body, goes to change for bed.

♡♡♡

Your tyring to walk away from him again. Desperation fuiling his fingertips, Illumi reaches for you. If you leave now, through the black hole of a door between your rooms, he knoes he’ll never see you again. Illumi feels his fingers close around your thin wrists, jerking you to a stop. You turn, looking down at the hand wrapped around your wrist.

“What do you want, Illumi?” You ask. The black fabric of your nightgown highlights your skin, and you look so beautiful under the lowlight. Illumi finds himself taking a deep breath.

“Mother wants grandchildren.” He says, voice stilted. You nod, as he continues. “So, we should maker her some.”

You stare at him for a moment, before yanking your arm from his wrists. Illumi almost begs you to stay. You cant go, you cant reject him like this. He doesnt know if he’ll ever recover. But instead of rejecting him, you bring your hand up, tipping the strap of your night gown down your shoulder. Illumi watches as the black fabric slinks down your body, hugging your every curve as it slides down until it falls off your hips and hits the floor without a sound. Your left clothed only in your simple black bra and matching panties. Illumi feels his dick swelling with exitement in his pants as he reaches out, hands shaking to grip your waist delicately. He feels as if you might break if he grips to hard, or you might leave if he holds you too soft. You smile at him.

“I thought you’d never agree.” You say, a vision before him. Illumi feels the urge to comfort you. Gingerly, stifly, he pulls you into a hug. Your body is so much warmer than his, your temperature leaking off your skin and sinking into his own. He can smell your scent to clearly he almosts tastes it.

“Ill do whatever you want.” Illumi says truthfully, and before the embarrassment sinks in, he pulls back enough to press a kiss to your lips.

Illumi has only ever kissed one girl. Ounce. On a dare from Hisoka. When he was thirteen. So its safe to say he doesnt have the most experience. He can tell you dont either, but that fine. You’ll figure it out together. The first press of lips is simple, just your lips colliding softly. And then the little knowledge Illumi had read begins to kick in and he moves his lips against yours. You smile against him, hands gripping his muscled shoulders as he winds his own arms around your bare waist. Your skin is so hot, hot like your breath as it collides hits his lips when the two of you pull back.

You step backwards drawing him forward until your bug hits the bed and the two of you tumble onto it with a thud. You giggle a little, and move back in for another kiss. He can feel his body reacting to your touch, to your kiss, and as you girp his bare shoulders, he bites back a groan. He wants you so bad, he practically achs for it.

You pull away from his lips, reaching around your back to undo the strange clasp that holds your braw together. Illumi watches in awe as you tosse it to the side, followed by your underwhere.

“Look Illumi,” You say, grabbing his hand and tracing it down. Down your chest, through the valley of your boobs. Down your abdomen and navel and through the hair below to find something. Illumi watches in fascination as you press his fingers into a wet heat. “I want you so bad.”

Your back arches off the bed, body curving with what seams like pleasure as a small sigh escapes from your lips. Illumi feels himself twitch.

“Can i put it in?” He says, somehow sounding even more emotionless than usual. You nod, letting go of his wrist to bring your own hands to his crotch, pawing at the bulge in his pants. Illumi fights down another groan, shedding his pants and quickly as possible. Your lying on your back when he gets back, your legs propped up, and grinning. Illumi carefully grips himself, and concentrates on finding the prize you had shown him before. The wet heat is easy to find again, and Illumi carefully lines himself up before pressing himself inside.

Your mouth opens in a moan of his name, and Illumi almost lets go as he feels what must be heaven for the first time. He goes as slowly as possible, as your hands scrabble, gripping his wrists, the sheets beneath you, the nipple of your boobs until hes fully sinside of you, body between your spread legs, hands digging into the comforter on either side of you.

Strands of hair are caught in the sweat of his back, while others tumble down to brush your boobs. Illumi lets out a small groan.

“Move,” You say. You must see his look of confusion, because you grin up through eyes hazy with arousal. “Grab my waist and thrust in and out.”

Illumi obeys, watching as your back arches, and your eys close in what must be pleasure. Its addictive to watch you, his eyes darting back and forth between your face and the places where your bodies connect. The world around him is hazy, your the focus. You always have been. The pleasure in his body is building. He feels like a chord is wrapping nots in his gut, and its going to snap. As if to match him, you grip his wrists.

“Almost there baby.” You moan. Illumi’s hips stutter as you continue. “Kiss me.”

Illumi feels himself close to loosing control, and with the last bit of his sanity, bends down to kiss your lips—

He wakes up tangled in his sheets, with the words ‘I love you’ on his lips and a wet spot staining his pants.

After a cold shower and a long thought, Illumi decides that maybe its time to woo his wife. He sets off down the hall with his usual blank expression, but fi you looked close, there was a small bounce in his step.

.......

Endnotes: yaya first day done! btw i think the fanfic writer curse got me too, a bunch of person stuff was happening and i was already upset and i was preparing for kinktober...

and then BAM!!!

my grandma died!!!

btw if stuff is a little late thats why, cause im also sewing the dress im gonna wear, because she used to sew(im actually using her old machine)

anway, enjoy your smut dosage!!

#helplesslypurple77kinktober #hunter x hunter #illumi zoldyck #i also need sleep #illumi x reader #hxh illumi #mariannacrxss

157 notes · View notes

licorice-tea · 9 months ago

Text

The Object Of All My Desires

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: so much angst, unrequited feelings (or so law thinks!), pining, yearning, (verbal) fighting, cursing, reader refers to law as a “stalker”, which is valid tbh bc he’s being a little weird, but not really, strawhat reader

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: oh my god i spend so long on this and i just kept hitting mental roadblocks! but then, tonight i got the inspiration to write like ~500 words and finished it up. there were only meant to be 2 parts, but similar to the second season of bridgerton (which it’s inspired by) there will be a 3rd! (the 1st part is based on the first meeting of kate/anthony, this part is based on that entire pinning phase+the confesssion, and the last will be shorter and basically be a resolution of everything.) also, im looking for beta readers! pls dm or comment if you’re interested!!! and if you’d like to be tagged in the next lmk! thanks for reading <3

Part 1 • Part 3

The second time you and Law were around one another long enough to have to face the other and, god forbid, speak, would come 2 years after your first meeting. After all your training apart from your crew, you had finally united and started traveling together again. You and your nakama took on all the challenges Fishman Island had thrown at you and soon moved on to the next adventure: Punk Hazard. It was there you met the standoffish Captain of the Heart Pirates again, and he proposed an alliance to Luffy between your two crews. So here you are; in an alliance with a captain you’d managed to piss off 2 years ago, and who clearly still carries that grudge with him.

Law already doesn’t like being part of the alliance with Straw Hat- but you only make it 1000 times worse. It’s unbearable having to be on the same ship as you, let alone sit at the same table over meals or pass each other in hallways. Not to mention, you seem to make everything a competition. And he doesn’t want to be in as childish a feud as the one that the swordsman and the love cook have, but you’re forcing him to act that way. You’re absolutely insufferable, and how he ever found you remotely intriguing or pretty to begin with is beyond his comprehension.

And yet, Law can’t pull himself away from you, nor you from him. He lingers in dark hallways just to pass by you as you go about your errands on the ship. He stares long enough to burn holes through you, then turns away milliseconds before you catch him (or so he thinks.) But every time you approach the reserved man, he exudes an air of annoyance.

It all makes you wonder, “What’s his deal?” Besides your little tiff back in Sabaody 2 years ago, you’ve never done anything to offend him in his time on the Sunny… Maybe you just need to clear the air. Yeah, that’s it; confront Law and ensure there is no bad blood between the two of you. No grudges, just goodwill.

You hope.

The Strawhats and co (Law) are docked at a small island, just for a day or so. Frankly needs supplies, Sanji; ingredients, Chopper; medicine, Zoro; booze, etcetera. And since most of the others have something specific they’re in search of, you have a free day to explore and shop!

You bid Brooke goodbye and thank him for watching the ship, then make your way up the dock and into town. It’s a quaint area, but the market near the entrance of what resembles a town square is overflowing with interesting bits and baubles.

Though you are happy to have this time to yourself, you’re not alone. Law is a mere 20ish feet away. He doesn’t greet you or even make eye contact, instead choosing to lean into shadows and stand behind vendor booths. You can tell that he’s trying to go unnoticed, pretending to be interested in whatever wares the shopkeepers have for sale every time you turn back to check for him.

And it’s fine, for a while. This could be a good opportunity to try and talk to him and ensure that the two of you are on good, if not neutral terms. It’s a little strange that he’s following you now after the two of you have had close to no interactions during his week or so on board the Thousand Sunny, but you don’t mind.

You cannot, however, pass up the opportunity to harmlessly scare him when he gets momentarily distracted by one of the little shops. While Law is reading titles of comic books (how strange…), you double back so that when he looks up, he can’t find you. He scans the marketplace, but to no avail- you must have run off somewhere.

Then you tap his shoulder, and the man nearly jumps out of his skin as he whips his head around to see who it is.

“You really like stalking me, huh?”

“…I’m not stalking you.”

“No? Well, whatever you want to call it, it’s the second time it’s happened.”

“What are you-“

“Sabaody, 2 years ago.”

“I wasn’t stalking you then, either.”

“Fine; following me through at least 3 groves while trying to be quiet and stay out of sight.”

Law scoffs. “Whatever.”

“Hm…” You lean to the side to see what’s behind him; display shelves with various comic books. “What were you looking at?”

“Nothing, I wasn’t even looking here.”

“Ah, so it’s ok for you to lie to my face, but not me to you. Got it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

You nearly laugh. 2 years ago, after proceeding to follow you through several groves of the Archipelago, Law had insisted on knowing if you were a pirate or not, and the conversation had somehow escalated into an argument. It was a stupid little thing. But, you find it funny now, which is why you’re attempting to make jokes about the encounter and ensure him there are no hard feelings reserved over it. “Again, Sabaody.”

“Well… maybe you should stop carrying a grudge over that.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I only bring it up because I think it’s funny.”

“I think it’s childish.” Law doesn’t know why he says this, to be honest. He wants to come off as smart and witty, though he might not have executed it very well.

With a scoff, you cross your arms. “Law you’ve refused to even look at me in your time with my crew. When I try to talk to you, you act like you don’t hear me or straight up ignore me. Then you go and stare at me from across as if I can’t see you. And I’m childish?”

“Yeah, you are, and I don’t like you. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Better than you being an awkward asshole with no explanations as to why.”

“I’m not fucking awkward, shut up.”

“Oh no, you just follow people around for the better part of an hour without talking to them. Very charming.”

Law huffs, unamused, and storms off without another word.

You sigh and continue browsing the stalls. “Ok, so, maybe there is some bad blood between us….”

Things are awkward between you and Law for the remainder of the evening. Not only is he avoiding you, but you’re also avoiding him. And though you still try your best to be at least a little friendly, he straight up ignores all of your attempts. Whereas before your little confrontation in the marketplace, the stoic man would have at least responded with an eye roll.

When it’s dinnertime, you take your seat next to Robin as usual. Casual conversation and laughter flow around the table easily and seemingly endlessly… until Law walks in. He sits in the only empty chair, next to Chopper’s, and nods at Sanji in thanks for the food. And you, foolishly, try to incorporate him into the conversation. Maybe you do it to try and heal the small rift between the two of you, or maybe you simply want to provoke him further (though you'd never admit it.)

“So, Law, how was your day?”

Everyone pauses their conversations to not-so-discreetly listen in. They had also recognized the growing tension between you and the ally captain, for seemingly no reason at all.

“Mind your own business.”

“Hard to do when you’re always in mine.”

He nearly spits out his drink.“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m starting to get sick of your behavior, y/n.”

“So sick that you just can’t seem to leave me alone?”

“Watch the way you speak to me-“

“My apologies Law, I’m so used to being watched by you rather than having conversations, I must have forgotten my manners-“

“Shut up!”

“Fuck you!”

Now that both of your voices are raised, the crew sees it fit to intervene.

“Watch how you speak to them, Trafalgar-“ Sanji warns.

Similarly, Robin tries to talk you down. “Y/n, he’s our ally-“

The attempts to calm what had nearly turned into a screaming match prove futile, as Law storms out. You scoff and cross your arms. He’s so infuriating, it makes you sick to your stomach.

Silence passes as your crewmates look between each other, none wanting to be the first to… console you? Admonish? Give advice.

“You two should talk, y/n.” Says Robin, ever so mature.

“If he wants to talk, he can come to me instead of constantly staring at me from across the deck without saying anything.”

“Well, he’s clearly not very good at showing it, but you realize that he likes you, don’t you?”

You blink and turn to look at her. This must be another one of her dark jokes. “Very funny, Robin.”

“Oh, y/n, come on!“ Usopp groans; he’s had enough of the yearning and tension. “You seriously didn’t know?”

“No! Because he doesn’t like me. He’s been holding a stupid grudge against me since the first time we met back in Sabaody-“

Nami backs up Usopp’s point; “A crush, y/n. He’s had a crush on you and he’s too shy to talk to you normally-“

“So, what, it’s ok for him to just watch from afar but then act like a jerk when I try and talk to him?”

Surprisingly, Chopper speaks up next. “…Maybe your intentions came off different than intended?”

This makes you bite your lip in thought. Perhaps they had.

Nami pats your shoulder, “Now, go work this out so the rest of us don’t have to deal with all your unresolved tension.”

You unintentionally pout; the last thing you want is to talk to Law right now. But, your crew urges you on, and all but pushes you out the door.

You find him pacing back and forth on the starboard deck of the Sunny.

“Law?”

He whips around and you swear you see his scowl become even more pronounced than usual. The crease between his brows deepens, as the corners of his lips turn into a borderline pout. “Not done tormenting me?

“Tormenting? I just… I came to talk to you.“

“I find that hard to believe. From the moment we met, you have been nothing but rude and a nuisance to me.”

You scoff, all plans of reconciliation forgotten. “Believe me, Law, the feeling is mutual.”

“Fuck off.”

“This is my ship, so why don’t you fuck off? Jump overboard for all I care.”

“Maybe I will if it gets me away from you.” Law turns on his heel and storms off the open deck and into a hallway.

“Good luck swimming, asshole!”

Your rebuttal brings him right back to his former position, face to face with you so that your screaming match can continue “I hope you know that every moment I have to spend on this ship is torture, y/n, all because of you.”

“I haven’t done shit to you, Law.”

“Then whose fault is it that I feel this way? Go on, name someone else so I can take it out on them instead.”

“It’s your fault if you feel any type of way about me besides amicably. I’ve been nothing but kind, and-“

“Bullshit. Whether you know it or not you’ve done… something to me, I can feel it.”

“Oh yeah? And since when do you know anything about how you feel, all you do is brood.”

“I don’t brood. And I know that you are the bane of my existence.” He spits back, making sure to emphasize the word bane.

You hold your breath, refusing to play into this childish argument any longer. Or maybe it’s because, even if it’s just a little, his words genuinely hurt. You realize then, that you don’t want to be the so called ‘bane of his existence.’ He takes your silence as an opportunity to continue, though at a much lower volume than before.

“… And the object of all my desires.”

After a moment of disbelief, your scowl turns to a raised brow. “Excuse me?”

“Every one of my waking hours is plagued by thoughts of you. It doesn’t help that I can’t go anywhere on this goddamned ship-“

“Don’t you talk about the Sunny that way-“

“- without seeing you!”

“Well you must enjoy being around me if you’ve decided I’m,” you create air quotations with your hands, “the object of all your desires.”

You feel so out of your depth now. All you know to do is to bite back with witty remarks, even when he opens up to you. And he seems to do the exact same.

“It’s a nuisance.”

Your lip trembles, but you refuse to cry in front of Law while he plays this sick mind game with you. “I didn’t know liking me was such an awful fate.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “There are so many other things I should be focused on, but all I think of is you. It’s not awful, but it’s making me weak.”

“You’re such a prick, Law.”

He’s bewildered, mouth gaping as he tries to understand what could’ve been wrong with what he’s just confessed to you. “I’m saying I like you, y/n, I- Do you hate me that much?”

“No, I don’t hate you, idiot! But you- when you started traveling with us, you made me feel like I had done something to offend you, and then when I confronted you about it in the market you started to really hold a grudge, then you - I just- that’s not how you treat people!”

“Y/n-“

“Are you messing with me right now, Law? Is this another play to try and gain the upper hand in this… ongoing thing we have?”

“No, I wouldn’t…” He trails off and shakes his head. He probably would, if he weren’t so enamored with you and on the condition he possessed the social skills to pull off such an elaborate scheme. “It’s not.”

You’re silent again, but both you and Law are refusing to break eye contact. He must notice your still watery eyes and trembling bottom lip because he steps forward. His hand travels to your arm, then your chin. Forced to look at him, you are pained to see a similar unhappy look in his eyes. Minus the tears. You could almost take him for sorry if it weren’t Trafalgar Law, of all people. So instead of falling into his arms like you suddenly feel a desperate need to; you step backward.

You fold your arms over your chest as you look off somewhere- anywhere besides his eyes. “Law, nothing good can come of this.”

“This? What is this, y/n?”

“These.. feelings.”

“You feel the same?”

“I didn’t ask to feel this way!” You bite back, “But… yes, I do.”

“So what should we do?”

“We aren’t going to do anything, Law. You just stay in your lane, and I’ll stay in mine.”

“I thought you didn’t like that I was avoiding you?”

“Well now that I know why, what else can be done? Nothing can happen between us, Law. And we can’t allow feelings to complicate this alliance. I can’t allow that, at least; it’s too important to Luffy.”

He searches for reasoning that will trump yours but comes up with none. And so, with a heavy heart, he concedes. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Nothing happened.” Law confirms.

“And nothing will.”

You nod and start walking away. “Goodnight, Law.”

“Goodnight, y/n.”

And once you’re back safely in your room, the tears start to spill. You hate this- you hate him. You hate the way he makes you feel. You hate that you’re in love with him, and it took you this long to realize.

The tears don’t stop until you’re knocked out, and by the time you wake up, they’ve stained your cheeks.

Taglist: @augustanna @lavanderdreamve @pinksaiyans @khaleesihavilliard @jennapancake

#fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x you #x reader #law x reader #law x you #law x y/n #trafalgar d law x reader #law angst #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law #straw hat reader #straw hat pirates

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bloodreinasbathwater · 5 months ago

Text

Where Kings Land

Part 1

Jacaerys Velaryon x Stark! Reader

a.n: I finally get the hype about Jace. This right here is one fine man. the hair, the freckles, the big nose. ALL of it. this is part 1 of the miniseries for House of the Dragon, and it's my first time writing outside of the regular asoiaf series. Enjoy and please lmk what you think!!

Warnings: manipulation, not proofread, yelling, cursing? talk of beheading and treason.

Word Count: 4,900

masterlist link

summary: In the harsh lands of the North, where winter's bite is ever-present, a tale of duty, desire, and deception unfolds within the ancient walls of Winterfell. Y/N Stark, sister to the absent Lord Cregan, finds herself caught in a web of political intrigue as the realm teeters on the brink of civil war.

...

The heavy wooden door slammed behind her with a resounding thud, echoing through the granite corridors of Winterfell. Y/n Stark—sister to the Lord of Winterfell, Cregan Stark—strode purposefully down the hallway, her frustration evident in every step. The torches lining the walls cast flickering shadows across her face, highlighting the furrow of her brow. She yanked her fur cloak tighter around her shoulders, warding off the perpetual chill that seeped through the ancient stones. The servants scurried out of her path, lowering their eyes as she passed. Y/n barely noticed them, her mind occupied with the litany of tasks that lay before her. The castle, a sprawling behemoth of grey stone and timber, was a living, breathing entity, and Y/n felt the weight of its responsibilities press down on her.

Cregan, her brother, was a warrior, a leader born to the battlefield. He thrived on the thrill of the hunt, the clash of steel, the shouts of battle. The day-to-day running of Winterfell, the endless paperwork, the constant negotiations, the delicate dance of alliances and diplomacy… these fell upon his shoulders. He was a silent force, a steady hand guiding the ship through the turbulent seas of politics and power.

Reaching the grand hall, Y/n paused, her gaze sweeping over the gathered lords and ladies. Their conversations buzzed like a hive of bees, their laughter echoing off the vaulted ceiling. She longed to be amongst them, to share in the joy of a feast, to ease the burden of her thoughts, but the weight of the impending winter hung heavy on her heart.

The biting wind whipped around Y/n's face as she ascended the final steps to the maester's tower. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and old magic, a familiar and comforting aroma despite its inherent chill. Inside, the room was bathed in the soft glow of a single lantern, casting long shadows across the piles of scrolls and tomes that littered the floor. Y/n's boots clicked against the stone floor, a sharp counterpoint to the rustle of the raven that perched on the window sill, its beady eyes fixed on her with an unsettling intelligence. The bird was a harbinger of news, always, and today, its arrival had filled her with a sense of foreboding dread.

“You've got ravens in your hair,” the maester, Alyn, said with a dry chuckle, his voice raspy from years of whispering secrets into ancient texts. He was a frail figure, his fingers gnarled and stained with ink, his eyes filled with a wisdom that seemed to encompass the entirety of the world. She brushed at her hair, dislodging a stray feather that had become entangled in its braids. 'They know I'm coming for them,' she said, her voice tight. 'They always seem to.'

Alyn nodded, a knowing glint in his eyes. 'King's Landing sends more than its fair share of worries north,' he said, gesturing to the table in the centre of the room. It was an imposing piece, carved from ancient oak, the surface groaning under the weight of a mountain of sealed parchments. Y/n sighed, letting the weight of the responsibility settle upon her shoulders. Every one of those scrolls contained a new burden, a new demand, a new headache she would have to unravel. The North had always been harsh, a land of unforgiving winters and fiercer people.

'What's the news, maester?' she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Alyn shuffled through the pile of scrolls, his gaze searching for a particular one. “They're now threatening us with dragon fire, my lady,” he stated solemnly, the chain around his neck clinking softly.

Y/n's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the pile of letters that lay on the table before her. Her jaw clenched, her anger rising like a tide. “Burn them,” she commanded, her voice sharp and decisive. “Burn all the letters. We will not answer, nor will we cower.”

Alyn's eyebrows rose in surprise, but Y/n's resolve only grew stronger. “Prince Jacaerys should be here any day. We will make good with the Blacks.”

Maester Alyn leaned back in his chair, studying her face. 'Are you certain, my lady? This is a dangerous game we play. The Green's dragons—"

“Are no more fearsome than the winter that forged us,” Y/n cut him off. She moved to the window, gazing out over the frost-covered courtyard. “My brother may be in the north of the Wall, but we will not be cowed by southern threats.”

Her words echoed through the frigid halls, carrying with them a resolute determination that belied her youth. “You are right, my lady,” he said at last.

Y/n turned to him, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you, Maester Alyn. Please, have the letters burned. We must prepare for the prince's arrival. We’ll show him true Northern hospitality. And maester," she added, a hint of a smile playing at her lips, "make sure we have plenty of that strong northern ale. We'll need it for the toast when we pledge our support to Queen Rhaenyra."

Maester Alyn nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. He reached for the candle on his desk, ready to carry out her orders. "As you wish, my lady. there's one more," he said softly, holding out a sealed parchment. "It arrived separately... and it's addressed to you personally."

Y/n hesitated, then took the letter. The seal bore the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, but something about it seemed different. More... personal. With a swift motion, she broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. Her eyes scanned the contents, and her face hardened.

"It's from Aegon," she said, her voice tight. She began to read aloud:

"My dearest y/n,

The silence between us cuts like shards of Valyrian steel, slicing through my soul. Do you remember the stolen moments in the godswood, under the watchful eyes of the old gods? The promises we made beneath the heart tree?I await your reply to our ravens with bated breath, much as I once awaited your stolen glances across the great hall.

But make no mistake, my white wolf. Your beauty will not shield the North from my wrath should you choose wrongly. Aemond grows impatient and Vhagar hungers for blood. With one word, we could reduce Winterfell to nothing but ash and bone.

Remember this, my sweetling: fire destroys ice. And dragons do not forgive.

Choose wisely. Choose me.

Yours in fire and blood, Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm"

y/n’s hand shook as she finished reading, her knuckles white where she gripped the parchment. The maester watched her, concern etched on his weathered face.

"My lady," he began cautiously, "what—"

"Burn it," Y/n interrupted, her voice cold as the Wall itself. "Burn it with the rest." She tossed the letter onto the pile, her eyes blazing with a fury to match any dragon's flame.

…

Amidst the icy grip of the winter, the last traces of sunlight had long since disappeared beyond the horizon when a thunderous beating of dragon wings shattered the bleak silence. Y/n stood in Winterfell's snowy courtyard, her chilled breath leaving clouds in the frigid air as she looked up to witness the dark shape descending from the sky.

With ethereal grace surprising for its size, the dragon landed with a resounding thud and steam rising from its scales as they met the frosty ground. As its rider dismounted, y/n found herself frozen in place, her carefully prepared greeting dying on her lips.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon strode towards her, his Valyrian features softened by Stark coloring. Dark curls framed his face, windswept from the flight. But it was his eyes that caught y/n off guard - soft and kind, yet holding a depth that spoke of burdens she had yet to find out.

For a moment, the world seemed to fall away. Y/n's heart raced as she stood before the prince, a stranger yet somehow familiar. She couldn't explain the sudden pull she felt towards him, as if they shared a connection beyond words. But at the same time, fear and doubt crept in, questioning if this was all just a dream or a cruel trick of fate.

Jacaerys approached, his movements as graceful as the dragon he rode. His brow furrowed slightly at her silence. He glanced around, perhaps wondering if he'd made some misstep. Finally, he bowed low, breaking the spell. "Lady Stark," he said, his voice a low, warm timbre that sent a shiver down her spine. " I am honored to meet you. And I thank you for your hospitality."

Y/n blinked, suddenly aware of the eyes of the entire courtyard upon them. She straightened, pulling her mask of cool composure back into place. "Prince Jacaerys," she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. "Winterfell welcomes you. Please, come inside where it's warm. We have much to discuss."

As she turned to lead him into the castle, Y/n caught the prince studying her with curiosity. She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with a challenging look of her own. Whatever this feeling was, she couldn't afford to let it distract her. The fate of the North hung in the balance.

Yet as they walked, she couldn't help but be acutely aware of his presence just behind her, like the warmth of a flame at her back in the cold northern night.

…

The Brown Room lived up to its name, with rich walnut paneling and fur-draped chairs that spoke of comfort in the face of long northern nights. Y/N led Jacaerys inside, the scent of beeswax candles and old parchment greeting them. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the cluttered table where ledgers and letters vied for space.

Y/N gestured to a high-backed chair. "Please, sit," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. She reached for a decanter, the crystal cool against her fingers. "Would you care for some wine, my Lord? It's a Dornish red – my favorite one."

Jacaerys settled into the chair, his eyes roaming the room before settling on Y/N. "Thank you, my lady. And please, call me Jace."

As she poured, a drop of wine escaped, staining the cuff of her sleeve crimson. Y/N barely noticed, too aware of Jace's proximity, the warmth radiating from him in the cool room.

"What did you wish to discuss, my lady?" Jace broached softly, accepting the goblet with a nod of thanks.

Suddenly, the room felt stifling. Y/N's heavy fur cloak, a necessity in Winterfell's drafty halls, now seemed unbearable. She shed it, draping it over the tall oak chair behind her. The firelight caught the silver direwolf clasp as it settled.

"Our support," Y/N replied, forcing herself to meet Jace's gaze. His eyes, she noticed, were flecked with gold in the candlelight. She swallowed hard and continued, "We have two thousand men. Strong northern fighters. We call them Winter Wolves."

Jace leaned forward, interest piqued. "Winter Wolves? An apt name, I'd wager."

Y/N allowed herself a small smile. "Indeed. They're as fierce as their namesake and twice as loyal." She moved to the table, rifling through the papers until she found a particular map. As she spread it out, the familiar scent of ink and parchment helped ground her.

"Here," she pointed, "is where we've gathered them. They await only my brother's word - or mine, in his absence."

Jace stood, moving to study the map. His arm brushed Y/N's as he leaned in, and she caught a whiff of leather and something else - perhaps the lingering scent of dragon scales. Jacaerys studied the map closely, tracing his fingers over the different markings and symbols. He was impressed by the precision and detail of the Winter Wolves' gathering points.

"Your brother must be a formidable leader to have gathered such a force in such a short time," Jace remarked, straightening up and turning to face Y/N.

"Yes, he is," Y/N said with pride.

"This is... more than we dared hope for," Jace admitted, his voice low and warm.

Outside, a wolf howled in the distance, a lonely sound that seemed to echo Y/N's inner turmoil. She squared her shoulders, pushing away the unwelcome feelings. Jace's brow furrowed as he studied Y/N's face. "My lady, are you well? You seem... flushed."

Y/N startled, realizing she'd been staring. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, painfully aware of the dampness at her temples. "I'm fine, my- Jace," she corrected herself. "I was... under the weather a few days ago. Nothing serious."

Jace's eyes softened with concern. Jace's hand hovers near Y/N's elbow, his fingers poised as if ready to reach out and catch her. She can feel the warmth radiating off of his skin, and she can sense the electricity between them, even though he's not quite touching her. "Perhaps you should sit. We needn't discuss everything tonight."

The gentleness in his voice made Y/N's heart flutter. She sank into a nearby chair, Jace following suit. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, giving her his full attention. His eyes were pools of liquid silver, soft and caring as they searched Y/N's face.

"Tell me," he said softly, "how are you truly faring? It can't be easy, managing the North in your brother's absence."

Y/N's carefully constructed walls began to crumble under his earnest gaze. "It's... challenging," she admitted. "Especially with the constant stream of demands from King's Landing."

Jace's expression darkened. "Ah, yes. I've heard whispers of Aegon's... correspondence."

Y/N couldn't hide the flash of frustration that crossed her face. "Correspondence," she scoffed. "Threats, more like. Your cousin seems to think he can bully the North into submission."

"My cousin," Jace said, his voice low and intense, "forgets that winter roses have thorns." He reached out, this time taking Y/N's hand in his. The touch sent a jolt through her. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. "You needn't face this alone, my lady."

Y/N found herself lost in his eyes, warm and sincere. "I... thank you, Jace," she murmured.

A log shifted in the fireplace, sending up a shower of sparks. Jace glanced at the flames, then back to Y/N, a mischievous smile playing at his lips. "You know, where I come from, they say the dragonfires pale in comparison to the warmth of a northern welcome."

Despite herself, Y/N laughed. "Is that so? And how does our hospitality measure up?"

Jace's thumb traced circles on the back of her hand, his touch feather-light. "Oh, it exceeds all expectations, my lady. Though I must confess, I find myself most warmed by present company."

Y/N felt her cheeks burn, but for once, she didn't mind the heat. A small smile tugged at the corners of Y/N's lips as she gazed into his captivating eyes. "You're quite the charmer, Prince Jacaerys."

"Only when properly inspired," is all he replied.

…

The pale light of dawn crept over Winterfell's stone walls, casting long shadows across the frosted courtyard. Y/N stood in the stables, her breath visible in the crisp morning air.

Her fingers, slightly numb from the cold, worked methodically on the leather straps of her horse's saddle. The familiar motions were soothing - tighten, adjust, check, repeat. The rich scent of hay and horse sweat mingled with the earthy aroma of leather oil.

As she worked, Y/N caught herself glancing repeatedly towards the castle, anticipation building in her chest.

The sound of approaching footsteps made her heart quicken. Jace appeared in the stable doorway, silhouetted against the brightening sky. He stifled a yawn, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Y/N noticed the slight disarray of his dark curls and felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to smooth them.

"My lady," Jace greeted, his voice husky with sleep. He cleared his throat, offering a sheepish smile. "You're up early."

Y/N felt the corners of her mouth twitch upward. "The North waits for no one, Your Grace," she replied, handing him a set of reins. Their fingers brushed, and Y/N pretended not to notice the warmth that spread from the point of contact. "Are you ready for an adventure?"

As they set out, the rhythmic clop of hooves against cobblestone gave way to the muffled thud of earth. The misty woods enveloped them, tendrils of fog curling around the horses' legs. Droplets of dew clung to Y/N's eyelashes, refracting the weak sunlight into tiny prisms.

Y/N led the way, her posture relaxed and confident in the saddle. She navigated the invisible path with ease, ducking low-hanging branches and steering around hidden roots. Behind her, she could hear Jace's horse snorting softly, its rider muttering gentle reassurances.

"I can hardly see the path," Jace called out, a note of uncertainty in his voice.

Y/N twisted in her saddle, catching Jace's eye with a mischievous glint in her own. "That's because there isn't one," she replied, allowing a rare, playful smile to cross her features.

The forest was a symphony of morning sounds. Birds trilled their dawn chorus, their songs echoing through the mist-shrouded trees. Small creatures rustled in the underbrush, sending leaves skittering across the forest floor. The earthy scent of damp soil and pine needles filled the air, punctuated by the occasional whiff of wild mint when Y/N's horse trampled a hidden patch.

Hours seemed to pass as they wound their way through the increasingly dense forest. Y/N found herself hyper-aware of Jace's presence behind her. She could feel his eyes on her back, and fought the urge to glance over her shoulder more often than necessary.

Finally, they came upon a rocky outcropping. Y/N dismounted with practiced grace, her boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. She patted her horse's flank, murmuring soft words of thanks. From the corner of her eye, she watched Jace dismount, noting the slight stiffness in his movements after the long ride.

Jace stretched, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension. His brow furrowed as he surveyed their surroundings. "My lady," he began, a hint of amusement in his tone, "I hate to question your expertise, but this looks suspiciously like a dead end."

Y/N's laugh echoed off the rocks, startling a nearby bird into flight. "Patience, Your Grace," she said, her eyes twinkling with secret knowledge. "The best treasures are often hidden."

She reached out, taking Jace's hand in hers. His palm was warm against her cool fingers, and she felt a flutter in her stomach at the contact. Pushing the feeling aside, she led him towards what appeared to be a solid rock face.

As they drew closer, a narrow opening revealed itself, barely visible unless one knew exactly where to look. Y/N squeezed through first, tugging Jace along behind her. The passage was tight, the rough stone scraping against their shoulders. Cool, damp air enveloped them, carrying the faint mineral scent of underground water.

Jace's breath was warm on the back of Y/N's neck as they inched forward in the dim light. She was acutely aware of his presence, of the way his chest occasionally brushed against her back in the narrow confines.

Suddenly, the passage opened up. Y/N stepped aside, allowing Jace to fully enter the cavern. She watched his face intently, savoring the moment his eyes widened in awe.

Sunlight streamed through an opening high above, illuminating a spectacular waterfall. The water, tinted an ethereal light blue by minerals in the rock, cascaded down in a thunderous rush before crashing into a pool below. Mist rose from the impact, creating tiny rainbows where the light hit just right.

"By the gods," Jace breathed, his voice barely audible over the roar of the falls. He turned to Y/N, wonder written across his features. "It's incredible."

Y/N felt a warmth bloom in her chest at his reaction. "Welcome to my secret place," she said softly, suddenly feeling shy. "Not even Cregan knows about this."

Jace's gaze softened as he looked at her, something unspoken passing between them. "Thank you for sharing this with me," he said, his voice low and sincere.

They settled on a smooth rock near the pool's edge, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. The mist from the falls cooled their skin, a welcome relief after the long ride. Y/N pulled out a small bundle from her saddlebag - bread, cheese, and a flask of sweet northern ale.

The conversation lulled, replaced by the constant rush of the waterfall. Y/N traced patterns in the damp sand with a stick, her eyes distant. Jace watched her, noting the slight furrow in her brow.

"A copper for your thoughts, my lady?" he asked softly.

Y/N looked up, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. "Just thinking about duties," she said. "They never seem to end, do they?"

Jace nodded, understanding in his eyes. "The burden of our birthrights," he agreed. "Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be free of them."

"Free," Y/N echoed, the word hanging in the mist between them. She sighed, tossing the stick into the pool. "Cregan writes often of my duties. He's pressuring me more and more to find a husband."

Jace's expression shifted, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "I... I apologize if I'm intruding, but may I ask why you haven't? Surely you've had no shortage of suitors."

Y/N met his gaze, finding unexpected comfort in the warmth she saw there. "Because I want love," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want a simple life, filled with moments like this." She gestured to the cavern around them. "But how can I promise forever to someone when tomorrow is so uncertain? How can I build a life amidst a war?"

Jace was quiet for a moment, considering her words. "Love in wartime," he mused. "It's not an easy path, but perhaps... perhaps it's the very thing that makes the fight worthwhile."

Y/N felt her heart quicken at his words. "And what of you, Prince Jacaerys? What does your heart seek in these troubled times?"

Jace's gaze softened as he looked at her. "I seek a partner," he said quietly. "Someone to stand beside me, not behind me. Someone who understands duty but hasn't lost sight of dreams." He paused, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Someone who knows the value of secret waterfalls and stolen moments."

The air between them seemed to crackle with unspoken possibility. Y/N felt drawn to him, like a moth to flame, but held herself back. This was not the time, not with so much at stake.

"It seems we both seek something rare and precious," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

Jace nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "Perhaps the gods will be kind," he murmured.

…

The iron-bound gates of Winterfell groaned open, admitting Y/N and Jace as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air was thick with the scent of pine and woodsmoke, punctuated by the sharp tang of approaching frost. Their horses' hooves clattered against the worn cobblestones, the sound echoing off the ancient stone walls.

As they dismounted, Y/N felt the day's exertion in her muscles, a pleasant ache that spoke of adventure and freedom. She caught Jace's eye, noticing how the fading light caught the silver threads in his jerkin, making them shimmer like starlight.

"Jace," she began, her voice low and tinged with an emotion she dared not name, "today was—"

"Lady Y/N! Lady Y/N!" The frantic shout shattered the moment like a stone through ice.

Y/N's transformation was instantaneous and mesmerizing. Her shoulders squared, chin lifting as if an invisible crown had settled upon her brow. The softness in her eyes hardened to flint, sharp enough to cut.

"What is it?" she demanded, her voice crisp as a midwinter morning.

The guard skidded to a halt before them, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "My lady, there's been... an incident. You're needed urgently."

Y/N nodded curtly. "Lead on," she commanded, then turned to Jace. "Your Grace, I must attend to this. Perhaps we could speak later..."

Jace stepped forward, close enough that Y/N could smell the leather of his riding gloves and a hint of something spicy—cloves, perhaps. "If you'll allow me, I'd like to accompany you.”

Y/N hesitated, then inclined her head in agreement. They followed the guard, their footsteps echoing through Winterfell's torch-lit corridors. The warmth of the castle was a stark contrast to the chill outside, yet Y/N felt a different kind of coldness settling in her bones.

They entered a small, dim room that reeked of fear and desperation. A man knelt on the floor, the rattle of his chains a counterpoint to his broken sobs. In the flickering torchlight, his tear-stained face looked ghastly, almost skull-like.

"What has he done?" Y/N's voice cut through the room like a blade.

The man looked up, his eyes wide and pleading. Y/N's voice sliced through the tense atmosphere like a blade, her words sharp and filled with accusation. The man shrunk back in his seat, his eyes wide and pleading as he desperately tried to defend himself.

"My lady," he stammered, "I beg you... I was only going to King's Landing, to pledge myself to King Aegon, my children. Is that such a crime?" His voice trembled with fear and uncertainty, his hands shaking as he awaited her judgement.

Y/N's gaze bore into him, seeking any sign of deceit or treachery. Observation seemed to be her weapon of choice, and she wielded it with expert precision. Y/N's lips thinned. "If you wished to leave, you could have done so freely. We do not hold men against their will in the North. Or have you forgotten our ways so quickly?"

The guard cleared his throat, the sound like gravel underfoot. "There's more, my lady. He attempted to steal half the winter rations and one of our best horses. Caught him in the act, we did."

The man's sobs crescendoed. "You can't behead an innocent man!" he wailed, his voice cracking. "You and Lord Cregan, you'll be the death of House Stark! The North will remember this betrayal!"

Y/N stood motionless, but Jace saw the almost imperceptible tightening of her jaw, the slight tremor in her clenched fists. The room fell silent save for the man's ragged breathing and the soft hiss of the torches.

Her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword, her knuckles turning white as she struggled to keep her composure. Jace watched as Y/N stood motionless, her face a mask of stoic determination, but he could see the anger burning in her gaze.

"Send him to the Wall," Jace suggested, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through Y/N's chest. "It's a harsh sentence, yes, but one that allows him to redeem himself in service to the realm."

Y/N turned to him, her eyes unreadable in the dim light. "Or I could let him go," she mused, her voice barely above a whisper. "But then, what message would that send? That theft and betrayal go unpunished in the North?"

"Take his fingers, my lady," the guard interjected. "It's an old punishment, aye, but effective. He'd bear the mark of his crime, but keep his life and limbs... most of them, at least."

Y/N closed her eyes briefly, and in that moment, Jace saw the weight of the North resting on her shoulders. When she opened them again, they gleamed with resolve.

"You've given me much to consider," she said, her voice steady as the foundations of Winterfell itself. "I'll not make this decision in haste. Guard, take him to the cells. See that he's fed and given water. I'll pass judgment when the sun rises."

As the guard led the prisoner away, his pleas fading down the corridor, Y/N turned to Jace. The torchlight cast dancing shadows across her face, highlighting the sharp planes of her cheekbones and the weariness in her eyes.

Jace moved towards Y/N, his tall frame casting a shadow over her. She could feel the heat emanating from his body, a welcome warmth against the coldness that had nestled in her chest. He spoke gently, never breaking eye contact with her. "You carry your burden with grace, my lady," he murmured, his voice deep and soothing.

Y/N held his gaze for a moment, allowing herself to bask in the comfort of his words. But as quickly as it had come, the moment passed. She took a step back, "Grace," she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Grace is a luxury, Your Grace. In the North, we survive on harsher virtues."

Her eyes, once warm and inviting, now held a wintry gleam. The soft curves of her face seemed to harden, as if the very stone of Winterfell was seeping into her bones. With those words, Y/N turned away, her cloak swirling around her like a shroud. As she walked deeper into the shadows of Winterfell's halls, Jace was left with the unsettling feeling that he'd glimpsed not just the Lady of Winterfell, but a portent of the harsh days to come.

The torches guttered in a sudden draft, and for a moment, the corridor was plunged into darkness. When the light returned, Y/N was gone, leaving behind only the echo of her words and the lingering chill of premonition.

...

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vaokses · 3 months ago

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Anger, a daughter (Pirtir, Ch.1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

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

Word Count: 4.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, who will be the lucky man?”

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

“I didn’t choose anyone.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

___

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I detest games, Daemon.”

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

“I only ask that-…”

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

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

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

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

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

“It was worth a try.”

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

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

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

“You are aware this is not a request.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Careful now.”

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

“She has approved of this union.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me fight.”

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

“If I had been a son, y-…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To ensure your blood sits the Iron Throne.”

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

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

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

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

___

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I asked once.”

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

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

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

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

“And my spies told you he wasn’t.”

“And so I never asked again.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Lady Mysaria.”

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

“I was close to all of them.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

___

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

“Are you two having a fight?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did you land?"

"Of course not. It is hostile territory."

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

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

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

Next chapter >>

#aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x reader #aegon targaryen x targaryen!reader #fics by me

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taecherries · 3 months ago

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the princess bride | jungkook ( 1 )

synopsis. soon to be betrothed to a neighbourhood kingdom, you escape into the woods toward your freedom. there you find your calling in the hold of a dark and troublesome stranger instead.

pairing. jungkook | you + yoongi | you

genre. royal au, angst, smut, fluff

word count. 1.2k

rating. M

warnings. ❗️so far yn is only angsty about changing her fate❗️

a/n. chapters will be coming out whenever I'm able to post and they may vary in word count greatly ♡

chapters. 1 × 2 × 3

You had been waiting for this little escapade since you’d heard your father announce your marriage to the King of Ilya earlier that day.

The world came tumbling beneath your feet as soon as you heard it. No matter how much you protested your father, the King, was irresolvable. You were not shielded behind your title like your brothers… Unlike the youngest heir of Keirn who wanted nothing to do with the crown besides partying and living it up to his rake title, you would give a finger to rise to the throne. And yet, the oldest of you, your brother Seokjin, who would eventually sit atop of it wanted nothing to do with it as well.

You did not doubt that if you had been announced as a boy as soon as you’d been born your father would have done whatever it took to put you on the throne. He had always favored you. And not because you were a girl, but because Seokjin did not possess the natural leadership you demanded whenever you entered a room, and because Taehyung did not possess the cold heart needed to rule a kingdom.

And yet your father did not think twice before offering you as a form of alliance with the powerful kingdom of Ilya.

He did not think of his daughter but of the kingdom. He put the nation of Keirn first, as you still wage a war with Arden’s great warriors and struggle to advance on territory.

The worst part is as a born ruler you can understand why he made the trade. With Ilya’s help, the unfortunate middle position on the map of your kingdom becomes nothing but a past worry. The soldiers can concentrate on upholding only one side of the borders.

But as a daughter, as a woman of your own, you can’t fathom why your once-loving father would deny you the only thing you ever dreamed of having—your freedom.

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across the stone walls of the tiny cottage belonging to your secret lover. You met him years before this, thanks to his father’s high-rank position in your dad’s order.

Like his deceased father, Yoongi is also a commander; a general. His scars tell tales of many battles, yet his eyes, the soft ones he has only for you, tell you of everything he wishes your lives could be instead of this. That’s why in your rampant need to escape your newfound obligations, you found yourself atop your trusted horse, riding toward this. Toward him.

The air inside is thick with the sweet scent of pine and the lingering warmth of the fire. Your breath comes in soft, heated gasps as you press yourself against Yoongi. Your fingers tangling in the dark hair you worship, his hands roaming your back, pulling you closer, as your lips meet in a fervent unyielding kiss.

Breaking the kiss you rest your forehead against his, your eyes brimming with determination. “We could leave tonight,” you whisper, filled with hope, much different from the condition you arrived at the cottage. You had been a storm of betrayal and raging tears before Yoongi dwindled everything with his caress and soft-spoken words. “We could escape the castle, make a life for us in the woods… Just the two of us. No one would find us past the clearing.”

Yoongi’s eyes search for yours, his expression a mix you know of too well. Longing and apprehension. You could bet your own eyes were telling the same secrets. “Y/n, your father would never stop looking for you.” His knuckles caress gently your cheeks. “He would send all of the fleet to every damn corner of the kingdom, you know that.”

“They wouldn’t find us. You’re the best at what you do and I—”

“My love,” he pins you down with his eyes. There’s nothing but sadness in them. “You’re now to be-” He stiffens, if only ever slightly. “You’re to be Ilya’s queen. They won’t ever let you go.”

He won’t fight for this, for you. Why won’t he fight for you?

“But we’d be free,” you insist, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Free to be together, to do whatever we want of our lives.”

Yoongi’s eyes close in a thoughtful wish. Maybe his resolve could wave after all. He pulls you into another kiss, deeper this time as if trying to pour all of his emotions into this very moment. “I want that more than anything,” he murmurs against your lips. He sighs and eyes you closely before adding, “We’ll have to be smart about it if we’re even to attempt it.”

You smile against his lips.

You didn’t think your heart could possibly be more his, and yet…

A sudden noise from outside breaks your wishful dreams. Your intimate bubble bursts as the unmistakable sound of boots crunching on gravel reaches your ears, followed by the clang of armor.

Yoongi is up in a second, his grip on you tightening as he steps to shield you even if the enemy is still outside the cottage.

“No,” you whisper, your voice trembling. The only person to have ever known about you and your knight in shining armor was Taehyung. If your father’s soldiers were here… “They- They found us.”

Your spirit is crushed.

Not letting you dwell on what could have happened, Yoongi turns to face you, his expression hardened. This wasn’t your Yoongi, this was the general demanding your attention. “You have to go,” he says urgently, his eyes locking into yours with fierce intensity. “I’ll find you. I promise I’ll find you no matter what, but you have to escape. Now, Y/n.”

Tears well up in your eyes. You can’t leave him, you don’t want to. But you learned the same techniques as Yoongi did when little. You know that if you don’t split now they will catch you both. And you also know that it’s your freedom put in jeopardy, not his.

There’s no time to argue.

Yet you do.

“I can’t leave without you-”

His large hands are cupping your cheeks in a second. All of the resolve in the world swirling in his cat-like eyes. “No one will ever set us apart, My love. You’re blood of my blood,”

You are caught by surprise as he chants the words. But there’s no time to spare, and so you finish reciting the vows you know by heart. “…And bone of my bone.” You answer him gently. “I’ll give you my body, that we two might be one.”

“I give you my spirit until our life shall be done.” He finishes with a bittersweet smile.

As you rest your forehead on his cheek, inhaling for one last time everything that he is, he places a cold piece on your palm and a kiss on your temple.

“Please be safe,” you whisper close to his lips, your voice breaking.

Yoongi gives you one last, searing kiss before pushing you towards the back door. “I’ll find you,” he repeats reassuringly.

You can still taste him on your lips as you slip out of the cottage, your heart pounding in your ears as you sprint into the dense forest. Behind you, the sound of soldiers crashing through the door and Yoongi’s defiant shouts fill the air.

You don’t dare look back, trusting in his promise as you disappear into the darkness, praying that once the sun rises yet again, you will be not only reunited but in charge of your fates.

In your palm rests the reassurance.

A silver dagger in the form of a wedding ring.

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