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chuluoyi · 6 months ago

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𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 !

- gojo satoru x reader // zen'in naoya x reader

you are an empress perfect in every way... until your husband suddenly casts you aside for his expecting mistress. but you won't be dethroned just like that, because the newly coronated western emperor, gojo satoru, sets his sights on you, and thus your revenge against your ex-husband begins...

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, kinda slowburn, angst to eventual fluff, divorce, marriage of convenience, heavy pining (from gojo's part), childhood friends trope, mentions of infidelity, misogyny, infertility, explicit smut

note: loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress (but i promise you, it's different). my god, for the past month this is all i can think about *sobs* wc. 10.5k ! this is the longest thing i've ever posted here, and if you'd give it a chance, then i'll be really, really thankful!

credit header goes to @/gojokko in twitter!

next. the crown of diamonds | long live the empire

general masterlist | series masterlist

“I accept the divorce.”

Your perfect life was done for. Everything you had worked hard towards— it was now in shambles and tatters.

You, an ethereal, revered empress... someone untarnished in the face of public and private, had just agreed to the emperor’s blatant request of separation.

“My god... how can this be!?”

“Your Majesty! Please reconsider!”

Emperor Zen’in Naoya of the Eastern Empire, your husband—and companion for more than ten years—smirked as he looked down at you, paying zero attention to the uproar in this courthouse.

But then you heard that kind, velvety voice from the back of your head:

“If you become my empress… that will make me the happiest man alive.”

This place has turned into a whopping circus ever since you and Naoya stepped inside anyway. And so, having nothing worthy left to lose, you declared, “And I demand an immediate approval for my remarriage.”

Your boldness once again stirred a wave of clamor among the crowd, and even Naoya was glaring at you in disbelief now. “A remarriage…? How dare you—!”

“Well... is it the time for my grand entrance?”

Deep from behind the curtains, suddenly he emerged, dressed in the most lavish robes befitting his own throne, outshining everyone in the room as if he was the one owning the place.

“Heh.” His low chuckle stunned even the mass as he took big strides towards where you were.

This would seal your fate. From now onwards, you would no longer be the perfect empress. Your messy divorce and remarriage will relegate that image to history.

“My goodness, that’s…” the woman in the front gasped. “Western Empire’s…”

“Gojo… Satoru?” Naoya's eyes lit with genuine fury as the other man took his place by your side. “You couldn't possibly mean…!”

You interrupted him regally. “Yes, he is the man I wish to remarry.”

This event was going to blow up tomorrow, with scandalous titles no less than The Deposed Empress Remarries! And there was no going back, ever.

How did your pristine life turn into such a shameful debacle? None of these turn of events would be imaginable for you several years prior...

SATORU, THE CROWN PRINCE OF WESTERN EMPIRE

To Satoru, you were more than just the east’s breathtaking empress—you had captured his attention long before you ascended to that role.

Seven years ago, you were the renowned noble lady, the paragon of perfection sought after by many lords and monarchs alike.

You were both cunning and fair, pretty in the face, came from an illustrious family known for birthing famous empresses in either western and eastern empires. You were the quintessential template that mothers advised their sons to seek in a wife.

The fairest in the land—that was how people called you. And Gojo Satoru is always and only interested in the best.

“Suguru... look at her.” His eyes would soften at the sight of you as he nudged at his closest ally and confidant, the duke. “She is so... pretty, isn’t she?”

Unfortunately, you had been promised to the Eastern Empire’s crown prince from a long time ago too. There was little that the outsiders, including himself—even if he was the heir apparent to his own throne—could do to sway your heart.

“There's more to women than their faces, Satoru,” Suguru sighed, thinking that what he had was a mere lust. “Moreover, she’s engaged to the Zen’in... and they have a very good relationship. Nothing you can do about that.”

“Hmph.”

To be honest, he couldn’t fathom what you could possibly like about that murderous Zen’in spawn. He was a pompous human being, no less.

How on earth could you stand someone like that? Satoru had always wondered… especially when it was well-known to the land that you and him were on good terms despite your arranged marriage.

—and once, he thought he knew who you are…

. . .

Satoru swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat as he attended the royal wedding of you and Zen’in Naoya. Despite hating the circumstances, he had to admit it was a fairytale wedding—albeit with the wrong groom.

You were the epitome of picture book princess. In his eyes, and in the eyes of the attendees of your wedding.

Oh, and he made headlines too, that day—

“My princess, may I have this dance?”

Two hours hadn’t even passed by after you swore your vows as Naoya’s bride, and there he was, asking for your first dance, in your own wedding ball, right in front of your newly wedded husband.

Everyone bet on you turning him down and making a fool of himself, but instead, to spare his feelings, you put your delicate hand in his, and with a wide, shy smile, you said, “Yes.”

Satoru thought it was his greatest achievement then. To have made Naoya red-faced, to have made him watch as he put his hands on your waist, twirl you around— and come one breath away from your face.

“Princess, you’re…” his breath caught as he pulled you close, staring straight at your face—and suddenly he felt like life was so unfair to him as the slow melody of waltz was all he could hear.

How could you be this close... and yet so far by being somebody else’s wife?

And yet he forced the words out, with sincerity he had never showed anyone else before, even as his heart bled and shattered. “You’re so incredibly beautiful.”

Your eyes widened, sparkling with wonder, before you thanked him with the loveliest of smiles. “Thank you. You’re too kind.”

Satoru was certain... you had ruined him, because no one else would ever be able to turn his world with just a smile like you did, even as you broke his heart too into a million pieces.

. . .

Ever since that day, everyone had branded him as a prince in search of scandal—coveting the princess married to Zen’in clan.

What everyone didn’t know was that it went beyond that. His obsession of you went beyond your beauty and charms and wits. Rather, it goes a long way back.

YOU, THE CROWN PRINCESS OF EASTERN EMPIRE

As inconceivable as it was, once upon a time, you and Naoya were a truly, happy couple.

Handpicked by the late emperor to become his son’s wife, you couldn’t be more proud. With you being the next empress of the Eastern Empire, your clan once again proved itself that it was always worthy of a seat in the monarchy.

But beyond that, you were elated that it was Naoya that you ended up marrying. Your own childhood friend, who often led you around his palace by hand and filled your days with many joy and laughs.

“One day soon, when we are the emperor and the empress—” younger Naoya was always someone who had big dreams about ruling his nation. “We will create a nation in which no one can do anything as they please! We’ll establish order, and anyone who goes against it will be punished! That way, it’ll encourage fairness!”

Not knowing it yourself, you had given your heart wholly to him. You had agreed to all his dreams and visions. You devoted yourself to them all, even more so after your marriage and coronation, as he promised you an ever after.

“From now on, it’s going to be me and you, Empress.”

YOU, THE EMPRESS OF EASTERN EMPIRE

“Your role is to give an heir to the throne, Empress.”

Your title had never sounded so heavy to you before now, especially when Naoya was the one saying it.

You sighed, gathering your wits and scattered feelings before levelling your calm gaze on your husband. “I understand that, Your Majesty. But it is not something that I can do on my own.”

This year would mark the fifth year of your marriage to Naoya. You understood that the fact you still weren’t able to be with his child would raise questions from the court, but still, must you be reminded of this fact over and over?

Your husband—no, the emperor—barked a satire laugh.

“Oh, really? As I understand it, being infertile is not something I can help you with.”

That hurt. It was a searing pain, like being branded with a red-hot iron. And it felt as if he had torn through your chest with his fist alone.

“I’m not infertile.” Your eyes gleamed with pure defiance as you lifted your chin, facing him in his audience chamber.

It dawned on you that lately, one of the few ways you could speak to him was by requesting an audience as opposed to your usual midnight talks in your private chambers.

When did it start to change? Or was Naoya this kind of person right from the very beginning and you were just blinded by love back then?

"Oh? And what would you call being childless for five years then?" Naoya sneered at you from his dais, placing one hand on his jaw. "Bad luck? You must be terribly cursed with misfortune then."

You fisted your dress, summoning all your strength to hold back tears. Don't you dare cry. Not in front of him.

It wasn't as if you didn't want to carry his heir. For many women, holding their baby in their arms is a cherished dream, and when they hold a position of power like yours, it becomes not just a desire but a duty.

You tried everything—calling in the best doctors, consuming horrible potions, even consulting with the oracle. And they all said you were perfectly healthy and fine. You were at your wits end too.

The irony. You were celebrated in public for your competence, while privately, you suffered your husband's cold detachment and cruel remarks.

. . .

"Empress, where should we put the welcome gifts?"

You studied the floor plan of the banquet hall for your annual New Year's ball with a thoughtful hum before pointing at the entrance.

"Place it here. We want our guests to know that we are generous, and it's easily accessible since the parlor is the first area they reach after arriving."

You loved planning festivities. It was therapeutic in a way, and it gave you little time to think of anything else.

"Oh, and I want to have a welcome arch and flowers placed at the entrance too. This is the grandest event of the year, second only to the Emperor's birthday... we must display the grandeur that befits such an occasion."

Your head maidservant, Hanabi, placed a hand on her abdomen and nodded with a warm smile. "That's a very clever suggestion, Your Majesty! I'll ensure they arrange everything just as you wish!"

As she scurried away, you watched her with an assessing gaze. Hanabi had been with you throughout the five years of your marriage, always at your side, assisting with day-to-day matters and serving as your confidant. She was a great aide.

And you were observant by nature... so of course you noticed things.

...and if you were correct, then she was most definitely with a child.

The thing is... she is unmarried. You hesitated to jump to conclusions without evidence, yet the timing struck you as more than coincidental—it nagged at you for weeks now, suggesting a connection you hoped did not exist.

Because if they really did... then...

You didn't dare to think, because it would be more than a nightmare. But you weren't able to let this go either, so you did what was necessary.

You planted a note in Hanabi's chamber, and then you waited in the gardens, the chilly midnight air wrapping around you like a shroud.

You had done everything you could. Five years ago, you let go of everything and had decided to spend your life with your first love—Naoya.

Because you truly and devotedly love him. You give your all for him—for your life together.

"Ooh, Your Majesty~! It's so cold out here, why not in our usual—"

Hanabi's voice faltered as soon as she saw your crimson gown, feeling like the world had collapsed on her. And you rigidly turned towards her, feeling more or less the same.

And yet, what you had received from him is the greatest betrayal.

SATORU, THE EMPEROR OF THE WESTERN EMPIRE

He first realized something was clearly wrong with you during the New Year’s ball that you hosted.

Satoru had just been crowned emperor during this time, and though rulers typically sent envoys to such grand celebrations due to concurrent festivities in their own lands, it had been several months since he last saw you. He wants to see you.

A meritless action, but he wanted to, regardless.

But that day, you were a fantastic actress in this stage called banquet hall and nobody was the wiser… but he would know, because you mattered a lot to him.

"Your Majesty, you don't seem well." He approached you with a glass of champagne, affixing a friendly smile. "Is there anything amiss?"

Taken aback, you didn't expect such close proximity that you took a step back. His smile almost faltered, but he kept it up.

"Emperor Satoru—"

"Ah, none of that, no. Address me just as you usually do, hmm?"

A smile finally tugged at your lips. "How is that fair, when you address me so formally?"

Satoru chuckled. "You, my queen, deserve all the finery and grandeur there is. And I will see to it that you do."

That was his nickname for you ever since you ascended the throne. Both of your countries refer you as “empress”, but he loves addressing you as “queen” instead.

There was a shift in your expression, and he thought you looked melancholic. It bothered him, stirring a desire to erase that somber look from you. Because above anything and everything, you had to be happy and smiling.

"You're still a flirt, I see, Satoru," you remarked, throwing him a soft smile. "It won't do you good if you're seen with me most of the time, you know."

No, I’m doing this just for you. He wanted to tell you that, but he sighed instead. "You've got it wrong. When I'm in the company of the most beautiful woman in the lands, what's there to be ashamed of?"

Perhaps hearing that finally melted you a bit as you freely giggled this time, and Satoru was glad that he made you laugh even a little.

"You would think that, huh..." you fondly mumbled. And then your expression crumbled, and he could've sworn something painful flashed in your eyes—

What happened to you? He so desperately wanted to ask, but then he saw that preying gaze on both of you. Zen’in Naoya. Satoru clicked his tongue as he watched him weave through the crowd, his gaze locked ominously on both of you.

“Seems like we don’t have much time, after all,” he began, urgency sharpening his words. “But rest assured, whenever you want to talk to me, just send a little birdie my way and I shall answer.”

“Huh?” you blinked at him questioningly, totally not getting what he meant.

He winked, then took your hand and placed a kiss on it, eliciting murmurs of surprise from the crowd at his bold gesture. “And chin up, my queen. You have nothing to fear, and if it makes you feel better...”

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “To me, a diamond is most beautiful. And you… are one that sparkles above all.”

“Naoya, unhand me this instant!”

You were tired of this shit, of Naoya always manhandling you—of him always having a total control over you.

After seeing how close you got to Satoru, Naoya practically saw red. Still, in the prying eyes of public, he remained unperturbed, but his vice-like grip on your arm was sure to leave bruise as he unkindly led you out of the ballroom.

"Naoya!" you raised your voice this time, even louder than before, uncaring even when the wandering eyes of the servants curiously followed the two of you.

You were not made an empress just to follow him. And with that conviction, you forcibly pulled your arm away from his grip right after he shut the door to the drawing room close, not even wincing at the stinging feeling.

His eyes shone with anger. “You insolent—!”

“No—” You stood your ground, and suddenly you got very irate and burst out, “How dare you, Zen’in Naoya!”

He looked at you with equal surprise and mortification, clearly unprepared for your righteous tirade.

"You have made a mockery of our marriage! You have insulted me and your own throne by carrying on with— with the help! My maid!" you screamed at his face, pure anger coursing through your veins. "How could you!?"

Naoya took in your outburst with eerie silence, a sneer slowly forming on his lips. "You get riled up over that? Have you forgotten emperors are free to take mistresses, especially when the empress isn't capable to bear any heirs?"

A burning arrow shot straight to your heart at his response but you willed yourself not to show it. "Regardless, you could've done better and not put our throne to shame by fucking a servant."

"I've told you time and time again. A woman's duty is to bear children, and since you've proven yourself beyond barren, I did you a favor."

"A favor...?"

"As soon as Hanabi births that child, you can raise him as your own," Naoya frankly stated unabashedly, as if proud with his idea. "Saves you the trouble and I get my heir, a win-win solution, no?"

Raise him as my own...? Saves the trouble? You could've sworn that throughout your entire life, you had never been so insulted before now, right in this moment.

"What I do, I always have my throne in mind. And yet you..." his eyes narrowed into unsatisfied slits. "What are you trying to achieve by whoring yourself to that rake, Gojo Satoru? Are you telling people of the ton that you're having an affair?"

His voice made you want to throw up. The realization that everything you thought you had together might have meant nothing to him at all made you feel sick.

And so, hiding your trembling hands and swallowing you unshed tears, you responded to him with a clipped tone—

"You're most despicable, Naoya. And you are a complete fool if you think even for a second that I'd want to raise your bastard!"

He seemed taken aback by your rejection, but you didn't falter. "And oh, since you want to make use of that lowly maid so much, feel free to take her back and track her down yourself, because I've sent that wench away."

With that, you turned your back on him, striding out with your head held high, even as your life crumbled into dust.

Days after your full-blown argument with Naoya, your situation only worsened. By now, even the palace servants knew you had incurred his wrath, while Hanabi had won his favor by carrying his child—possibly the heir to the throne.

The child she was carrying was no threat to your position. After all, you were the empress. A child of your blood would trample over any bastard.

However, you'd be damned if you shared a bed with him again, and Naoya made it clear that his mistress would be elevated to the rank of royal consort. Given the current trajectory—and history's tendency to repeat itself—emperors often divorced or banished their empresses in favor of their mistresses.

Bah. You could only scoff at your laughable predicament. You came from a prestigious clan and were revered, yet now you were no more than a scorned woman.

Dark thoughts consumed your mind for a time—you couldn't deny that you had considered leaving the palace for self-imposed exile or even ending your life. However, reason always prevailed.

You wouldn't give Naoya what he wanted most: your compliance. And around the time when you resolved to do that, a finely decorated envelope arrived at your study, with no signature whatsoever.

Intrigued, you opened it to find an intricate dried rose bookmark and a folded letter nestled inside.

Greetings to you, my queen. Yeah, it's me. Hope you won't be too surprised. But if you do, know that I always mean well.

Satoru. You weren't expecting this. A small smile tugged at your lips. How long had it been since you last smiled so freely?

I've heard you love reading, hence the bookmark. Fun fact: I made it myself, with Shoko's help. She is sooo bad at explaining though so if the flower is wrinkled... please blame her.

This time, you giggled. He was an emperor, for god's sake. Should someone of his station write so informally like this?

Now... I'm no oracle, but even I know that you must be having bad days. And so, let me entertain you with several tales from my kingdom. So, the other day, my good friend Suguru, the duke—you must've heard of him surely (they said he is the most handsome bachelor in the West but they must be missing an eye for saying so because clearly I'm more!)—just fired a pair of his servants because he caught them in a thirst! He is so uptight! Why can't he let two people in love be!?

Before you knew it, you found yourself chuckling at the lines upon lines of anecdotes Satoru had penned in the letter. The way he wrote, it was as if he was right here, saying all of this to you in real-time. For a while, you were completely absorbed in the world of the Western Empire he described, and all your worries and anxieties seemed to fade away.

Okay, that's it for now. This is just a teaser actually, so if you want to subscribe to more tales of my humble little country, you can always be my empress reply to this letter! :D Look out for a white cat near your windowsill during the hour of snake—he is my trained pet, and put your message in his little backpack. Don't worry, he's cute and doesn't bite!

You were so giddy by the end. His message warmed your heart so much that your eyes grew misty. In the aftermath of Naoya's betrayal, you were certain your life would be filled with much sadness to come.

Yet, your friendship with Satoru might just be the thing that would save you.

No matter how much his friends Duke Geto and Countess Shoko urged him to see reason—that you were no longer available and occupied with your duties as the empress of your own empire—Satoru couldn't help but still cast an eye your way.

You were clearly unhappy, and to him, someone as radiant as you should be happy.

And so, that was why he took his quill and started writing that letter to be sent to your place, along with a rose strapped inside.

He knew that, being the kind person you were, you would most likely respond, but still, the moment his cat arrived back with your reply, he was elated beyond measure.

Of course I knew it right away! I omitted your name because who knows who might catch your cat on the way. Anyway, I hope Mr. Cat will arrive back to you safe and sound. Firstly, thank you for your letter. I must say I'm so happy to receive it :) I haven't had best days so reading it made me smile. And secondly, of course I'll subscribe to your stories of Western Empire. I've been wanting to visit it myself but just haven't gotten the chance to... so if you will continue it, I shall be happy to read :D

If anything he wrote brought you joy, then Satoru was content. He had achieved his goal then.

And it was his own little secret that... by corresponding with you, it allowed him to savor the feeling of having you as his own, if only through words.

Mr. Cat's name is Sugu-chan after Suguru but you can call him whatever you wish. And don't worry, he is strong and can fight if necessary! And don't be too formal with me, my queen. We have known each other forever. Anyway do tell me, what is your favorite color now? Let me guess, is it still that specific shade of crimson?

You name your cat after your best friend...? And you're making it hard for me to be less formal when you always address me as queen! Hmm, I suppose so. I love burgundy. I've even had my study designed with that exact color scheme. It just gives me the confidence I need, you know.

So you still love burgundy... I'll keep that in mind ;) Frankly, any shade of crimson suits you—you're always a vision in them. Back then and especially during your coronation. I love blue, so I think we're a match? :D

Back then...? Hmm, surprisingly yes, red and blue would make a good match... Anyway, I believe you promised me unusual tales from your 'humble little country', so please indulge me!

You've forgotten it already? Around the time we first met, back when I was still known as "the cursed prince"? It holds such importance for me but sadly it seems like it was just a passing moment to you :( Oh, yeah, I haven't forgotten about it! So, this time let me tell you about the time when Earl Nanami got wasted . . .

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Amidst the turmoil of your marriage, exchanging letters with Satoru became your sole respite. His stories regarding his own empire amused you, and sometimes it got you to wonder what it was like to live there.

However, running away from your problems would never solve them. Writing to Satoru may have helped you to cope, but still, your real issue with Naoya wouldn't vanish simply just by ignoring him.

. . .

"Your Majesty..."

For a good one minute, you stood still. Your lady-in-waiting had delivered an earth-shattering news—but admittedly, a possibility you thought was in the cards the moment you went against Naoya.

"His majesty has summoned the high priest to his study," the elderly woman added, close to tears. "But it is very likely that he has submitted the petition for—" her voice faltered when she caught sight of the emptiness in your eyes, unable to continue.

A divorce. Naoya had been considering a divorce. And by now, he was set on it.

"I'm so, so sorry..." she choked out, her voice breaking with sorrow to mourn you, but you remained expressionless, lost in your thoughts.

The last time an empress of Eastern Empire was divorced was more or less a century ago, because she had committed a grave treachery against a royal consort by poisoning her. She was sentenced to death by hanging afterwards.

The irony. You were in similar situation, only that you weren't vengeful enough to resort to poisoning Hanabi. Speaking of her, her baby was due in another four months, and now she was living happily in Naoya's quarters.

"Don't be. I'm perfectly fine."

To consolidate his illegitimate child's position, Naoya used the most effective way. Since you wouldn't listen to him, and Hanabi must be a far delightful companion rather than you, he was more than willing to cast you aside in favor of making her his empress instead.

You thought it would hurt more, and yet what you felt the most right in this moment was white-hot anger. This is unacceptable. It was the greatest insult to you both as a woman and as the empress.

Now, all you could think of was how to uphold your dignity and plot your exit from this palace with your head still held high.

If I can't be the empress here...

And after a sleepless night, you came to a daring solution. And your plan—

...I'll be one somewhere else.

It was an invitation, Satoru thought, almost in disbelief. Or it sounded a lot like one, didn't it?

Heart beating a little faster and blushing, he reread the latest letter you had sent him.

It's only the beginning of summer, and the heat is sweltering... I'm considering treating myself to a trip to the winery village on the border between the east and west. I think it'll be nice if I have a companion...

Winery village was right in the middle of the western and eastern empires, and it was a safe zone. Vineyards were vast and thick, but it wasn't exactly a popular vacation spot. So, it intrigued him why you would want to go there.

Just as he was about to reply to you that it was a very good coincidence that he too wanted to pay a visit to the said village, suddenly—

"Gojo! Gojoooo!" Shoko suddenly burst into his study, startling him.

"Shoko! What the heck?!"

Lady Shoko might be a countess, but she, Satoru, and Suguru all attended the same royal academy. Despite their prestigious titles now, Satoru insisted that in private, both Suguru and Shoko address him just as they did before he ascended the throne.

Still, she was ruder than Suguru in many ways. Satoru gave her a stink eye, but his confusion grew as she seemed to be delivering momentous news.

"Gojo, have you heard that Naoya will divorce Y/N?!"

"Wha?" it felt like a ton of bricks suddenly fell down on his head. And then his friend proceeded to tell him everything she knew.

"It wasn't made official yet, but even the townsfolk have been talking about it. They also said that Naoya have taken a mistress, and that she was formerly the empress' maid."

Satoru listened to her in silence, but the moment he heard that the Zen'in spawn planned to divorce you, anger flared within him. And to add insult to injury, he two-timed you with a servant?

The fucking bastard. He never deserved you at all. How crushed must you have been, enduring all this shit?

"Now, I wouldn't normally encourage you this," Shoko took out the cigarette she stashed in the folds of her dress and sighed. "But since you never let go of that weird fixation on her, should the royal divorce happen..." she shrugged as she took a seat in front of him.

"No matter how laughable it is, you might have a chance."

She is so right. These long years of longing for your affections and dreaming of having even a minute more of your time... there was now chance to turn it to reality.

When you arrived at the winery village for your vacation to breathe in some fresh air, honestly, everything was still in shambles.

You couldn't forget the horrified looks from the court when Naoya announced the divorce. Most were shocked and pleaded with him to reconsider. Some from your circle of ladies even sobbed, openly stating that you didn't deserve this fate.

“Empress... His Majesty shouldn't be that harsh...” Hanabi had said to you afterwards, seemingly concerned for you. “Your legacy here… I’ll make sure to carry them on.”

Sometimes you didn’t know whether Hanabi was pretending to be dumb or indeed she was. One thing you knew though...

“I wish you luck on that, Hanabi.” You looked down at her with eyes as cold as ice. “Beware, the Emperor is fickle, be sure to not run out of entertainments.”

You knew you deserved a better fate than being the empress of the Eastern Empire, but seeing those who still cared for you made you solemn. Your loyal maids, those who supported you... and what about organizations you've spent time and energy to?

“My queen, ah, there you are.”

Satoru's voice from behind startled you, interrupting your daydreams. He quickly came beside you and extended his hand, asking for yours.

You offered him your right hand, and he promptly pressed a kiss on it, his bright blue eyes gazing up at you.

It wasn't as if you just noticed how pretty his eyes were, but now that there was no ballroom and scrutinizing eyes around you, you couldn't deny that the way his eyes sparkled as he gazed at you—solely and purely on you—made you breathless.

What... would it be like to have this man... to be your husband instead?

"I missed you. I know we talk daily through letters, but seeing your beauty firsthand is always a sight for sore eyes," he cheekily commented as he let go of your hand. "Now, I get to see you without your pesky husband around, and yeah, you never fail to make my silly heart race."

You chuckled. "You always flatter me..."

He only gave you a toothy smile, and you two strolled the vineyard. For a while, you talked about nothing of importance, like where your ladies-in-waiting were, how things were from his side.

"How do you find being the emperor?"

"It's tiring! It's boring too to look through accounts and oversee those trivial state affairs! And not to mention how many people have been nagging me to take a wife soon!"

"Oh? You haven't been on the lookout already?"

"Nah. No one is good enough, I need someone already familiar with state affairs and such," he said, wrinkling his nose sourly at the thought. But then he cast his eyes on you.

"And frankly, you are my standard," he fixed you a meaningful smile. "No one comes close. If you weren't betrothed to the Zen'in back then, I'd have proposed you in a heartbeat."

Thump. Thump. Thump. Your dead heart suddenly came to life. Gojo Satoru had just confessed his affections for you so candidly, and it got you thinking how much easier your life would be with him. He would love you, take care of you...

And beguile you.

His eyes fondly crinkled at you. "You are everything I desire in a woman to be my wife."

He adores you so easily, so fluidly... and yet, Naoya, who has you fully, is throwing you away.

Satoru observed how your face fell once again, just as it had during the New Year's ball. And now he knew, it was because you were facing your impending divorce.

But he wasn't going to tell you that, instead, he would willingly be your confidant and offer you his very being. He was about to crack a joke to lift your spirits, when you blurted—

"What if I said... I want to be your empress?" you kept your pace, not looking at him at all. "What if I said... I'll leave everything and come to you?"

Huh? What…?

That was loaded. Have you entertained the thought too? Satoru had craved the very idea for so long he didn’t even miss a beat—

“Then I’d marry you.” His voice was straight and true, shooting straight to the most tender part of you that Naoya had torn to shreds. “If you become my empress… that will make me the happiest man alive.”

No hesitation. It almost reduced you to tears. You stopped where you stood, willing yourself not to tremble. There is still one person who sees this much value in you.

“Then I’ll be yours,” you breathed out. “I’ll be your empress, Satoru.”

Satoru could've sworn time had stopped. If one moment ago, you looked like you were about to shatter, now you were a vision of the dignified and perfect queen he had always known you were.

“I’ll be your queen— your everything.” You declared, locking eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze not escaping him.

How many years had he dreamed of this moment? How many long nights had he endured, yearning for you, knowing you were beyond his reach?

Finally, finally... Satoru grinned, swearing to all the divine beings out there that he had never known how liberating it was to finally have what he wanted. “That would be my greatest honor.”

He drew you close—you let him—and after one second of taking in your enchanting eyes, he crashed his lips against yours.

His lips started soft and gentle, then became fiery as his tongue met yours. He pulled you closer, one arm around your waist and the other holding the back of your head. You responded eagerly, pressing against him, fingers tracing his neck and feeling the lines of his undercut.

One is finally having the woman he had wanted for so long, and the other was plotting her escape from her misery.

You were using him. He knew it. Yet, he didn't care. Hidden behind bushes and vines, you shared your very first heated kiss, aware that this moment would leave its mark as both the greatest stain and triumph in your lives.

And when he finally pulled away, lips swollen and wet, with a wolfish grin, he promised you once again—

“Give me everything that is yours... and I swear on my life, I will do everything to turn your life into a living dream.”

“Empress, your husband His Majesty the Emperor, has requested a divorce.”

It was how your once pristine life transformed into the scandal of the century inside the courthouse.

"If you accept this petition, then you will no longer be the Empress of Eastern Empire. You will lose all the rights you have as a senior member of the imperial family..."

You donned your finest attire—the intricate crimson and black dress you had designed and commissioned the dressmaker to create. Today, faced with Naoya's divorce decree, it would be the last time you adorned the colors of his empire.

"The ties that bound you together as husband and wife would be severed—"

Good riddance, you thought.

"If this is not what you want, you have the right to—"

"I accept the divorce."

Your voice cut through the heavy solemness of the witnesses and turned them into a mass of disbelief. You disregarded Naoya's smirk and held the priest's gaze. "And I demand an immediate approval for my remarriage."

The crowd was in for a second wave of uproar when you boldly stood your ground, and they erupted into clamors once again when Satoru made his grand entrance and took his place beside you.

"You—!" Naoya was so furious that he roared. "This is my empire!"

"And?" Satoru challenged with a dauntless smile. "I'm here to propose, and since she accepts your divorce request, I believe she has no relations with you any longer and is free to marry someone else."

You remained motionless, until your cold fingers met warmth when Satoru linked his hand with yours reassuringly.

"This is treachery! I won't fucking permit it!" Naoya hollered as he faced the high priest, who had a grim face while observing this three-way headlock between the three of you.

"Emperor Naoya, that matter falls into the jurisdiction of the church." The high priest let out a sigh and then turned to you, assessing your calm gaze.

Regardless, Naoya paid him no mind. "I refuse to grant you any permission to remarry! You will be banished to the cold palace until the rest of your pitiful days! Not only do you fail miserably by being barren beyond help, you also dare to whore yourself—" he was now rambling curses at you before everyone in the court, and it pierced you deeply—

Until Satoru tugged you behind him, so that you wouldn't have to see his face any longer.

"High priest!" Satoru's voice blared as he clenched his jaw, irate at the string of profanities directed at you. "Do you still truly believe that the deposed empress can't remarry? When she has suffered through this man's downright betrayal?"

Your head was spinning. You wanted this whole ordeal to be over already.

And thankfully, even the high priest saw reason, that you were undeserving of this debacle. In the end, his words held more weight than anyone else's, even Naoya's.

"I accept Empress Y/N petition to marry Emperor Satoru!"

In the chaos of the courthouse after the high priest granted your wish, Naoya shook his head in disbelief, looking at both of you with intense disdain.

"You've always wanted that wench, haven't you, Gojo?" Naoya cackled with a malice you would never have expected from someone who had been your husband for ten years.

You had tuned out all the noise. This dumpster fire was too much even for you. But then, you felt a strong arm enveloping you, sealing your fate as the match made in this courtroom—

"I have, yeah," Satoru replied with a smug grin. "And now that she is mine... it's just the beginning of your downfall, Zen'in."

Your wedding banquet in Western Empire lasted a week long.

True to his promise, Satoru spared no effort to make you happy. The moment he brought you to his palace, he ordered immediate plans for wedding celebrations. Make it grand, make it unforgettable... he took charge himself.

And on the final, seventh day, as you were about to be formally crowned as the empress of the western lands, you were stunned.

"This is your coronation dress, Empress," your new lady-in-waiting, Shoko, said with pride. "Gojo— I mean, His Majesty, specifically has his late mother's dress altered to suit you."

You promised yourself that you would no longer wear any shades of crimson. As much as you loved the color, it reminded you too much of your homeland and Naoya. No matter how much you despised him now, once upon a time, he was everything you loved and more.

And you thought you couldn't possibly love another color until you saw the extravagant navy dress in your chamber. Made of luxurious satin and adorned with literal diamonds, it shimmered under the light and flowed gracefully with layers of brocade cascading to the floor.

To give you something so valuable... You had expected to enter into a marriage out of necessity, but your new husband had no intention of ceasing his ways to win your heart.

If it's with him, maybe... just maybe...

Today is the day.

Satoru sat on his throne before his court in the grand hall of his audience chamber. His hair was pulled back, and he was dressed in his official attire, robe of silk and a crown made of pure gold.

Next to him, another resplendent crown adorned with jewels and diamonds shimmered in the light—the empress' crown. Your crown.

Today was the day this empire would truly acknowledge his queen. He stole a glance at you on his other side, and his breath was taken away.

With your hair tucked into an elegant updo, you were the very vision of a fairytale queen. You were incredibly stunning, almost otherworldly— shade of blue suited you as much as crimson did, just as he thought.

This day would go down in history. But before that, he would ensure that the news would reach Zen'in Naoya. He would spite him so hard.

"Today marks a momentous occasion. We gather here to celebrate not only my marriage and my new wife's coronation," Satoru glanced at his audience with a smirk, his expression widening as he spotted his best friends Suguru and Shoko. "But also the start of her reign... and as we know it already, her fame and beauty are second to none."

The crowd burst into giggles, clearly aware of his scandal at the Eastern Empire's courthouse. And even you smiled.

Satoru shrugged, playfully rolling his eyes. "Spare me, I'm a newlywed, after all. Anyway..." His gaze shifted to the intricate crown, a relic of his late mother's, and then back to you. "Come."

You knelt before your new husband, bowing your head. The whirlwind journey from the East, your remarriage to Satoru... It had all felt surreal until this moment. Now, the weight of reality settled upon you, almost shaking your very core—

But just as the thought crossed your mind, Satoru placed the crown upon your head. As the jewels settled into place and you rose to face the crowd, his voice cut through the air:

"And here I present to you, your new empress!"

The room erupted in applause, the cheers echoing around you. Everyone congratulated you without fail, and your breath was taken away.

It was a sight beyond belief, as they chanted your name, over and over again—

“ALL HAIL THE EMPRESS!”

"I have something for you!"

You wouldn't expect that you would ditch your last night of wedding celebrations along with your husband, and yet here you were, led by the hand by a very giddy Satoru.

"Where are we going?" you questioned him, your pretty dress sweeping the halls in a rush.

He turned to you to send you a wink. "Trust me, sweetheart. You'll love it."

Somehow the way he called you made your heart thump a little faster inside your ribcage. This man is really, truly, your husband now.

He was such a refreshing person, it almost made you let go of everything that molded you into the perfect empress in the east, and be just... you.

"Here." Both of you stopped in front of a grand door, and he ushered you inside. "Come, come~"

A study, you realized as you stepped inside, but then a gasp left your lips—

"How do you find it, hmm?" Satoru put an arm around your waist, proud of how the burgundy walls and mats enveloped the entire space, creating a tranquil sight that perfectly matched your taste.

It was so much like your private study in the Eastern Empire's palace. You might now hate that place, but your private study was filled with the memories of smiles while writing back to Satoru's letters and waiting for his cat to come. And to have this now in your new home...

"You remembered..." you looked up to him, almost tearing up.

"Of course I do," he pressed a kiss on your temple. "I said that so long as you're with me, I'll turn your dream into reality, didn't I?"

This man really treasures you, or at least that was what his actions had proven so far.

"You're everything I've ever wanted and more," Satoru said, wrapping his arms around you from behind in a warm embrace. "You might not realize it, but I've been in love with you since you first visited western lands."

"What?" you turned to him with genuine confusion. "How?"

"That blind boy who you led by the hand... he had no friends," Satoru sighed against you. "The first and only person who asked him if he was lost... is you."

Suddenly, you were thrown back in time to your first encounter with Satoru many years ago. He was known as "cursed" for being born with peculiar eyes, had been blind for a period of his childhood, before he awakened the true extent of those brilliant blue eyes and brought his clan to power by wielding them.

Back then, you thought it was wrong for him to be left alone, so you took him by the hand and escorted him back to the palace, unaware that he was the infamously cursed crown prince.

"You made me feel less lonely. And I thought then... someday, somehow... through some sort of miracle in which I regained my eyesight and could see you... I'd immediately ask for your hand."

But you were named the crown princess of the Eastern Empire. The thought of how crushed Satoru must have felt upon hearing the news pricked at your heart.

You felt soft, you felt loved, and most of all, you felt an overwhelming certainty that with this man by your side, you would finally experience the genuine love that had been missing from your life for so long.

"You have me now," you whispered in response.

Unlike your first kiss in the winery village, this time, you were the one who faced him and pulled him into a searing kiss.

Be it impulse, overwhelming feelings or something else... you didn't care. You just want him.

And wouldn't you know, your new husband... is also a wonderful, dashing lover.

"You're so... fucking beautiful..." Satoru's lips were on yours, claiming them with a fierce passion that left you breathless. His hands roamed your body, tracing each curves and lines.

You moaned into his mouth, clutching his robes. He captured your wrists with one hand, using the other to tilt your head back so he could leave bruises on your neck in the process, making you moan.

"Keep making that sound, yeah?" Satoru rasped, his hot breath giving you goosebumps. "Keep me going with your voice."

As he gripped your waist, it dawned to him once again that you were here, with him.

Seeing his colors on you ignited desire straight to his cock. His empress was stunning, more so now than ever, more than any woman Satoru had ever seen.

He led you to the bed, his movements urgent yet tender. The air was thick with desire as you lay back, pulling him down with you. You arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him, craving more.

This wasn't your first time, yet you had never been this excited before. From heated kisses until somehow managing to get rid of your underwear and left you in your dress... your body nearly thrashed in response.

"Look at you... An queen of two empires, yet rendered putty in my hands," Satoru wickedly grinned as he slipped a hand under your dress, rubbing his thumb teasingly over your clit. You let out a soft sigh at the prodding. You were getting wetter by each second... and Satoru felt his cock straining against the tight material of his dress pants.

"More..." you pleaded, arching your hips. "More...!"

Any of your wishes would be his command, so he pushed two fingers inside you at once, and you let out an erotic gasp. Satoru was so close to tearing his pants off by seeing how tight you clenched around his digits.

Breathy moans fell from your lips with each harsh brush of his thumb over your clit, his fingers fucking you fast—

"Satoru...!" you shuddered, gripping his shoulders as you became limp and came into his hands in spurts.

"My queen..." he then captured your lips in a brash kiss, and you reciprocated it. He pulled away only to press his forehead against yours in an attempt to calm his raging heart. "No matter what."

His watery, sparkling eyes was mesmerizing to you, and you took one breath before you crashed your lips into his, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.

"As pretty as you look in this, I'm going to take it off," Satoru murmured with a meaningful smirk, slowly undoing the laces of your dress. "I want to see you completely naked... just for me."

Soon, you laid bare, and the cold air made your body shiver. Satoru clenched his jaw tightly at the scrumptious sight.

It was almost difficult for him to take in all of you at once—your flushed cheeks, swollen lips, erect nipples, and legs spread wantonly for him. Satoru had been here so many times in his dreams, and to see it becoming reality...

"If back then, you had chosen me instead—" he sounded almost heartbroken, which startled you. "I would have treated you right from the start—"

You looked up to him. "You would..."

"Don't you know how many years... I've been just there— watching you and that bastard? Knowing I can do even more than him?"

"Mhm..."

You rose, tugging him closer, before you unclasped his robe, letting it fall to the floor. "Satoru... right now... I'm yours."

He allowed you to undress him and soon he too was out of his stuffy royal attire. Your eyes wandered on each part of his body you touched. His chiseled body, snow-like skin, and then the hardened bulge that sprung out the moment you undid his pants—

The sight of his cock alone only turned you on even more. You gently gripped the glistening head, running a thumb over the tip before gliding your hand towards the base of his length. With a gentle rhythm, your hand moved from base to tip in a slow, teasing motion... before pecking his head.

"Yeah... you're right." His eyes never left yours, admiring you as if you were the most precious gemstone, before catching you off guard. While you rubbed him, he snaked a hand around your waist, pulling you so that you tumbled on top of him.

You moaned loudly as his cock—big, both in length and width—entered you, his hands gripping your thighs to spread them apart so he can shove himself deeper.

You felt so, so full, as you pulled Satoru to you tightly, groaning into his shoulder. And he started to set the pace, moving against you.

"Ahh," you moaned out shakily, fingers clawing into his back. To him, the sounds you made drew him in like a siren's song, it made him throb inside you. "Ahh—hngh!"

"Feel good?" he asked, voice sultry and deep, as he thrusted into you particularly harder, causing you to stifle a moan. "Let it out—hah—sweetheart... I want to hear you, hmm?"

And you did. You felt hot. Your unabashed, nasty sounds with each thrust drove him to the edge. With every lift of your hips, you squeezed him so tightly it almost made his head spin. His breaths came in short pants too.

"You fit me so damn well," he groaned, holding your hips hard enough to leave imprints of his fingers. "So fine..."

One woman. It took just one woman—you—to unravel him like this.

"Satoru, harder—" You commanded, wrapping your arms around his neck even as you trembled. "N-not enough... harder!"

He actually had to swallow, because you and your pussy felt so damn tantalizing. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

He slammed his hips against yours twice—no, thrice the previous speed, and you incoherently squealed. The squelching sound of your hips slamming against each other, and the immense wetness coming out where you two were joined... it was clear: you were addicted.

"Did Naoya ever make you feel as good as I do you now?" he drawled, sinking into you impossibly deeper, squeezing your left mound and flicking your right nipple at the same time. "Did he... ever make you ride him like this?" And then he instantly regretted his words.

Because the moment he said that, you felt cold, reminded of nights in which Zen'in Naoya grabbed you just to forcefully breed you. You winced, and Satoru caught it.

"I..." you shifted your gaze away from him, and he could've sworn that it was sorrow he saw flashing in your pretty eyes. "I-I... don't want to talk about him..."

Feeling remorseful, Satoru reached for the back of your neck and pulled you to him, kissing your lips softly. "I'm sorry—"

"You don't have to—"

"Tonight, I'll make you scream my name so hard you'll forget him," he promised as he pulled away from you, his eyes darkening. "Tonight, give me everything and I'll show you how a man truly loves his woman."

And he followed through. He worshipped you meticulously, treating your body with the reverence one might bestow upon delicate glass. He peppered kisses on every inch of your skin he could reach, lips and tongue trailing down, his relentless thrusts so well-paced and brutal at the same time.

"I'm— close!" You whimpered, and yet still grinding your hips against him. He was watching your every move, every wave of pleasure that was evident on your face— committing it to memory for those moments when he couldn't hold you close.

You gasped—as a mind-blowing orgasm then ripped out of your very being, your hips faltering as you surrendered to ecstasy with a cry of his name, coming all over him. "Satoru... Satoru! Ahhh!"

And Satoru kept his gaze on your face as he too busted inside of you hard, feeling himself filling your womb with his essence, his hands kept your waist steady, memorizing the way your lips part and the way your body went limp into him with satisfaction.

Dear heavens, I love you. The sight of you was nothing but perfection, and with everything he had, he was very sincere when he said—

"You're flawless, sweetheart."

2 MONTHS LATER

"If you give me a son, I'll throne you as the empress right on that very day."

The Eastern Empire's palace was bustling as the royal consort's screams echoed through the halls. The day Naoya had been eagerly awaiting had arrived—his mistress was delivering his heir.

Yet unbeknownst to him, whispers in the dark suggested the royal baby was arriving suspiciously early. Many, still mourning the previous empress who had been dethroned so abruptly, were not exactly thrilled with this turn of events.

"My lady, just a little bit more!" the maid encouraged. Hanabi strained once again as the pain peaked and her body spasmed, letting out the loudest wail as the baby finally slid out of her.

"W-what... is it?" on the brink of passing out, Hanabi asked anyone who might hear her. She had to know, for she was so close to obtaining her throne—

"It's a girl, my lady!" the midwife announced.

What?

Her world crumbled at that very moment. A girl? A girl can't be the heir!

She wanted to sob, to utterly mourn, and right at this moment she was full of fear, because if Naoya knew—!

Like a curse, he suddenly made his presence known in the birthing chamber. His face scrunched in distaste at the scent of blood filling the air. He took one look at Hanabi, tearful and frazzled after the ordeal, then turned to the midwife, who was trembling at his presence.

"A baby girl, Your Majesty."

In that instant, fury flashed through him. He shot everyone in the room a glare before his eyes settled on his consort, full of spite.

"You useless tramp."

Your life with Satoru in Western Empire was wonderful.

He was everything Naoya was not. Satoru adored you, prioritized your well-being and happiness, often humored you, and made your days an endless delight.

And dare you say... you had begun to return his affections as well.

How could you not? Everything he did, he did with you in mind. He eased you into your position so seamlessly, and soon you found your place comfortably at court.

"He is mixing pleasure with his kingly duties," Suguru grumbled, watching his best friend order the gardeners to plant more blue roses simply because you mentioned finding them beautiful earlier. "Empress, you have to keep a tight grip on his leash."

"Well, at least he's happy." Shoko shrugged and nudged you. "Can't you see by now? How much of a loser he is for you?"

You did see him—a man who showed you everything he had. He had given you everything you unknowingly needed.

And you just wished... you could return the same for him. It still made you bitter, knowing you might never be able to give him heirs due to your condition.

. . .

"Sweetheart... what's on your mind, hmm?"

You looked up to him as he pressed a kiss on your cheek, an arm securely around you, sweaty and panting after your steamy session.

With his hair down and messy after you yanked him earlier, your lips curved into a genuine smile. "You look hot like this, you know?"

He clicked his tongue. "Hmm, I am, of course. But no use in changing topics, I know you well enough now."

Your bare body was pressed against his chest, fingertips tracing gentle lines on his skin.

"There's a possibility that... I can't give you any children." You almost felt ashamed saying this to him, unable to look at him in the eye. "I-I... I've failed for many years—"

"Hush," he silenced you with a finger to your lips, his expression firm. "No thinking that, yeah? I don't care."

"But—"

"Children are gifts," he said then, caressing your face tenderly. "It's not up to us to control how it'll take or not. And I married you not because I want heirs or such—I love you, you know?"

Your glassy eyes met his, and you willed yourself not to shed a tear.

He grinned cheekily. "Besides, you've felt it yourself—my sexual potency is undeniable. And I don't believe for a second, that you're what that bastard claimed you to be. I bet he's the one who is impotent—"

"Satoru! You're so obscene—!" you giggled freely and poked his chest.

At that time, you were just relieved that he didn't mind. Though it was still weighing in your mind on some days, you felt a newfound sense of liberation compared to when you were still in the Eastern Empire.

But you were in for another plot twist. Perhaps Satoru is correct, and your doubts are unfounded...

"Ugh..."

Your stomach churned in discomfort, a sickening nausea that seemed to twist your insides and threaten to force its way up. This had happened for days now.

You wanted to find a physician before Satoru was aware of your state. You didn't dare to hope or speculate, because you were tired of it by this point. You just wanted clarity.

Yet, the physician's words left you speechless.

"Your Majesty... it seems that you are with child," he remarked in wonder as he assessed your vein. "Yes, definitely. You are with child."

It was a revelation you hadn't expected. For years, you had been convinced that you were unable to conceive, but now...

You were carrying a new life. Yours and Satoru's.

You felt like bursting with joy as you made your way to his study. Your heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of happiness. Above anything else, you were eager to share this news with him—

...until everything you had known turned on its axis once again.

Right before you went past the ajar door, you saw a glimpse of your husband and his most trusted confidant, overhearing snippets of their conversation:

"Satoru, however you look at it, this is tantamount to declaring war," Suguru sighed, clearly at odds with his perspective. "It's not wise."

"We can finally put an end to them this way," Satoru's tone was steely as he moved a chess piece across the map, positioning it on the border between east and west. "No better time than now."

"The Empress will face the greatest backlash from this. They'll accuse her of being vengeful enough to provoke an attack on her home country—"

"On the contrary, her presence will encourage those still loyal to her to defect. That's why I have her here. We need defectors—"

You let out a choked gasp, backing away from the door in shock. For one good minute, you refused to comprehend what Satoru was implying.

. . .

Did your new husband... marry you for his own hidden agenda?

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fanaticalthings · 6 months ago

Note

Bruce coming home one day to find Robin Jason clinging onto a chandelier with Dick below him cheering him on.

Bruce: Jason what are you doing?

Jason: Dick said that you missed his antics after he moved out and so he’s teaching me how to be a better son

Dick: After this we’re going to drive the Batmobile into the bay :D

Jason: We’re going to what? I mean yeah! Right into the water.

Jason trying to whisper to Dick: Dick I can’t swim though

This just further fuels the chaotic dynamic of Dick and Jason during a time where Dick was still going through his teenage angst and was absolutely not a benevolent role model LMAO

I mentioned it in this post, but it's just so funny to me to imagine a Jason who grew up with an absolutely WILD Dick Grayson as an older brother, while the younger batkids grew up with a more mellowed out and mature (arguable but when measured against the other kids, he wins by a landslide) Dick Grayson.

Robin!Jason era:

Dick: You wanna go out and get high?

Jason: I can't, I have homework.

Dick, sputtering: HOMEWORK?

----

Dick, about to do an elaborate (and totally not dangerous) acrobatic move in the manor: Watch this, littlewing

Jason: You shouldn't do that, it'll make Bruce upset.

Dick, on the brink of angry tears: Why are you like this.

----

Jason, dejected: Listen, I know you don't approve of me because you think I'm not good enough as Robin, but-

Dick: Not good enough as Robin? I don't care about that, I just think you're a little bitch

----

Dick taking Jason out on a hangout for the first time: OK, looks like I got my work cut out for me. Take out a notepad and write everything down. I will NOT have my successor embarrass me like this. So what you wanna do to piss off Bruce-

---

[Years later, Jason returning to Gotham with the fury of a thousand suns and the chaos to match it]: I'm gonna make your life a living HELL, Bruce

Dick, older and relatively more chilled out: Okayyyyy, maybe let's just– calm down a lil, haha, no need for the theatrics

Jason, betrayed, observing a Dick Grayson who is teaching his new younger siblings to behave and be mature: Dick, what the FUCK

-----

Present!Dick, mentoring Tim: Make sure not to be too impulsive, don't wanna raise Bruce's blood pressure

Red Hood!Jason spying on them from afar: Who even ARE you??

-----

Jason: So you teach me ALL of that, only to turn into the ONE thing you despised so greatly all those years ago

Dick, sweating: Well-

Jason: I'm ASHAMED. How can you be worthy of being called my PREDECESSOR?

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internetgiraffekid1673 · 3 months ago

Text

Today on the list of "good stuff that happened": I got to tell my brother about how Percy Jackson in the Son of Neptune is absolutely insane and spends basically the whole book just making the Romans go "?!"

Highlights include exploded water cannons during war games, showing up carrying a goddes and tearing apart furies with a whirlpool, mouthing off to Mars, third-wheeling/babysitting the precious young smoll inexperienced beans that are Frazel, willingly drinking Maybe Poison, and generally breaking a lot of things by Fighting Like a Greek. Continued to explain that the best part about the multiple perspectives in these books is this:

Percy: I'm a loser, lol! I have no idea what I'm doing, also everyone is cooler than me and I'd die for them! Also Annabeth is cute when she's threatening people with a knife.

Annabeth: *while planning 6 steps ahead* Percy is an idiot. Dear gods I love him so much. Such a wonderful idiot.

Literally everyone else: Percy is (one of) the most powerful demigod(s) I've ever heard of, and he gives no shits about any rules anymore. This man is scary and dangerous and I am so glad he's on my side. Annabeth is a terrifying force to behold and I can't keep up with her. I am unsure if them being so in love with each other makes it better or worse. If they ever turn evil, we are so fucked.

#giraffe's ramblings #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #pjo #hoo #riordanverse #rick riordan #babbles with brothers #this has been talked about by other people before at length #but I love explaining it to my brother who's only exposure to this series are the very bad movies and “The Campfire Song” from the musical #he is so tickled by it every time

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timmydraker · 3 months ago

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Tim’s parents demand a meeting with Bruce and their son himself to discuss the future of their company and Tim’s place in it. Everyone knows they probably want to get in on Bruce’s wealth and business so they might be able to go from millionaires to billionaires like Bruce.

To everyone’s surprise, Tim accepts and says he’ll do it as long as Bruce will stay with him the entire time.

Obviously Dick refuses not to and Damian insist as the ‘true heir’, which makes Jason want to as well just cause he’s not being left out. Duke promises to stay out of it and keep the girls busy so Tim doesn’t feel cornered or smothered in worry.

So, Bruce and his three sons sit on the meeting with Bruce doing most do the talking and Tim sitting on a chair with his brothers all keeping eyes on him.

Jack and Janet try to give pleasantries to their son but he just stared at them, a blank look that even Bruce can’t decipher if only because he’s never seen it before.

Jack does most of the talking, explaining that Tim still has a set aside amount of many and place in the company but that it’s only there because he’s kept the family name. They explain that they would be happy for Tim to take the Wayne name as long as their son gives up his legal place in the company and hands over his personal funds they gifted him willingly.

They subtly explain that they want him to continue to work with the as he works with WE extremely well, and that they could possibly become partners.

Tim would still be the co-CEO of WE as well as COF for Drake Industries but he must… ‘donate’ money to them regularly as a show of good partner ship.

Bruce is furious that they just want money and haven’t acknowledged their son or the fact that he just turned eighteen, but he remains calm and after almost twenty minutes of talking Dick cuts them all off.

“Perhaps-we could ask Tim himself what he thinks of this offer.”

The growing tension both settles and raises as everyone turns to Tim who is sitting like a statue.

He looks like he could be dissociating but there’s a distinct presence in his eyes like he doesn’t want to miss a single word or second.

Jack sits back and gives Tim a stern look, “Well, son? What do you say?”

Tim speaks in the same voice Bruce has heard him talk to clients he doesn’t like, “I’ll accept, I’ll even give my earnings from the company.” Just as Jack and Janet begin to look smug and his family members look shocked he adds, “on one condition.”

Janet looks at him like he’s the most vile creature ever and covers it with a forced smile as Alfred pours more tea for her as a means to appease the clearly nasty woman.

Everyone waits for Tim to state his condition but none of them are ready for when he looks his parents each in the eye and says in the calmest, most level voice the most shocking sentence nace they have ever heard from both Tim and Red Robin:

“I want you to kill yourselves.”

…

No one speaks.

Jason and Dick look genuinely afraid, Damian looks taken aback though not nearly as shocked as Bruce is with his jaw hanging low.

Alfred for the first time in his life serving the Waynes spills tea and looks at Tim in a way that shows he is genuinely aghast.

Janet and Jack are frozen looking at their son like he’s a different person, which is funny as that implies they knew he was before.

Tim doesn’t smile or gloat, he does nothing to suggest his words were one big joke or last ‘fuck you’ to them.

He sits still and patient, waiting for an answer.

Janet opens her mouth several times to speak but never gets any words out though Jack manages to get over his shock and fury crosses his face. He opens his mouth, most likely to yell or berate his son but Tim beats him to it.

“It’s your choice. I’ve said all I want, so kill yourself or leave.”

Tim picks up his own tea and watches as Jack and Janet storm out of Wayne Manner.

Silence prevails for a while with none of the family talking until Damian breaks the silence, “Holy shit.”

#tim drake #batfam #bat family #dc comics #tim drake is red robin #batfamily #tim drake is a menace #dc universe #dc #damian wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #janet and jack drake #tim drake centric

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punishereditz · 4 months ago

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Best Interest

Pairing: Tyler Owens x f!reader

Warnings: 18 plus only! Minors DNI! DO NOT COPY! Fighting. Blood. Small injuries. Swearing. Smut. Unprotected sex. Oral (f receiving). Praise kink. Creampie. Overestimation.

AN: May be my best smut story yet.

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: After getting into a fight, Tyler takes care of you in more than one way.

The hotel parking lot was full of Storm Chasers. His team, yours, and another group of Chasers he didn't know. Tyler's eyes followed your march. A line growing between his eyebrows. What were you doing? Before he had time to wonder, you hurled a book at a guy's head. "You fucking asshole!" Tyler was frozen in place. In complete shock as he watched you lunge yourself at the man.

"Did you really think I wouldn't find out?!" You shouted in a fit of rage as you shoved him against a truck with all your strength. "Would someone get this loser off of me?" His team started pulling you off of him.

"You stole my story! You took it as your own and published it you son of bitch!"

"What are you talking about?"

"The book! The goddamn book that I wrote! You stole it, Ray!"

"Oh! That." He chuckled and your blood went cold. Your knuckles turning to a ghost shade of white, you had your fist clenched so tightly.

"I didn't steal it. You threw it away. I just published." He spoke in arrogance and with a shrug.

"That's not the point, the point is that you published it, with your name and absolutely no credit to me or permission! You're taking all the points when you know damn well you didn't write one word!"

"If I didn't dig the story up, then it wouldn't be a #1 best seller."

"You bastard. You betrayed me!" Your voice cracked and you lunged yourself at him again. Your friend quickly rushing over. Wrapping his arms around you and pulling you away. "Enough! Enough! Stop! It's not worth it!" Your friend tried to get through to you. Taking a few steps away from him. Your fist clenched by your sides. As Tyler watched the chaos, he started piecing everything together. His eyes on you as you started to walk away.

"That's right. Walk away, just like you always do. You gave up on it just like you've given up on everything else."

Your body reacted before you mind did. Before you even realized it, you were shoving your knee between his legs, falling to the ground with him, straddling his lap as your fist met his jaw. Then again. And again. Over and over until your hand ached and he spit up blood. The sound of his pain and the sight of his blood giving a sense of satisfaction. You hated how your rage took over you in this moment, but you couldn't stop it. All you saw was red. Your adrenaline high. Your mind so full of wrath that as your group of friends started pulling you off of him, you were still trying to punch him.

It wasn't until Ray stood on wobbly legs that you finally took a deep breath. Taking a moment to watch the blood pour from his nose and mouth. You took a few steps back, but still with a small amount of fury in you... you gave him your best right hook. Falling to the ground and blinking his eyes, trying to not pass out. Now that you finally felt satisfied, you sighed and walked away. Going up to your hotel room.

His team all standing around him. Trying to make sure he was okay. Your friends all frustrated at the hell that just broke loss. But they deiced to leave it alone for tonight. They knew that would be best, but Tyler thought differently. He was feeling a swarm of emotions, he felt your rage, he felt impressed and shocked by your actions. But he was mostly feeling concern because when you walked to your room, walking by him, he noticed your bloody knuckles. He knew some of the blood wasn't yours, but he noticed that your knuckles were cut up and your hands were severely shaking. It was none of his business. He knew that. He knows that the two aren't always on good terms. Always in a competition of who is the better chaser.

But he forgot about all of that right now. All those problems between the two of you, he shoved to the back of his mind, and he walked to your hotel room. Knocking on your door before he allowed his mind to think about it too much. His eyes immediately going to your hands when you opened the door.

"Hey there Rocky." You rolled your eyes at his cocky smirk, and you went to close the door, but he put his hand up and stopped you from closing it.

"Let me see your hand."

"Are you always this forward?"

"Only when something has my interest."

"I'm interesting?"

"Interesting is an understatement." He chuckled. A small smile growing on your lips. "Now that's a sight." Tyler's eyes fell down to your lips. The air between the two of you suddenly growing thicker.

He cleared his throat. "Let me take a look at it." Before you could give him an answer, he was grabbing your wrist, closing the door and sitting you down on the bed.

"Hey!" He simply chuckled and smiled at your complaining. He got down on one knee in front of you. Taking your hands in his and you tried to ignore the heat growing in your cheeks.

"It's fine. I was just cleaning them up."

"Hmm. Sure sweetheart." He started to closely check your knuckles. Gently rubbing his thumb over them. Your hand twitching and your body tensing. He quickly moved his thumb away and looked up at you to make sure you were okay.

"Since when does the tornado wrangler worry about anything else other than tornados?"

"Since there's blood involved." He had a teasing smile, but it faded when he noticed your embarrassment.

"You really did a number on the guy." He said after a long moment of tense silence.

"So... you saw all that?"

"Oh yeah."

"Well, that's not embarrassing at all." Your cheeks burned a brighter red and you wanted to hide.

"Nah. Impressive actually. Remind me to not piss you off." He tried to reassure you and put you at ease with jokes.

You didn't say anything to his joke and instead looked into his eyes. The realization started to settle in. He was checking on. He was being unbelievably gentle with you. Why was he doing this? Your mind spiraled and Tyler noticed.

His gentle hold on your hands tightening just a little. "Other than being sore for the next few days, you're okay." He let go of you and he rose to his feet. Returning in front of you with gauze. He knelt down. Taking your hands and starting to gently wrap them.

As he did, the realization started to hit him. He realized the position he was in. That he was down on his knees in front of you. The smell of your sweet perfume suddenly overwhelming him. He would be lying if he said he hasn't thought about this before. On his knees for you. That was when a mischievous smile crept to his lips. What if I just... "All set." A crease settled between your eyebrows when you saw the look he was giving you. "What is it?"

"Nothing..." He said with a shrug and his voice suddenly got lower. Your breath catching in your throat when you felt his hand start to gently move up your leg. The motions of his hand slowing when he got to your thigh. Taking his time to feel you as he slowly brought his hand back down. Stopping at your knee. He gently pushed your leg. Spreading your legs wider. You couldn't stop the gasp of surprise that left your lips.

"So gorgeous..." He mumbled. His hands running along your thighs. Your cheeks burning so hot you feel like you could start sweating. "Do you know that? How gorgeous you are?" You weren't able to get the words he wanted to hear out. So, you just shook your head. His crooked grin growing wider. He moved his hands away, slowly taking off his coat. His eyes never leaving yours.

"Guess I'll just have to show you." His hands went to the button of your jeans. "Lay back and lift your hips sweetheart." His voice was a low growl of lust in your ear. Sending shivers down your spine. You slowly leaned back and lifted your hips. "Good girl." He pulled down your jeans alongside with your underwear. He moved your legs over his arms and pushed them up until your legs were draped over his shoulders and his hands were gripping your hips. He gently kissed your thighs. Making your body shudder. His lips moving over your other thigh. A smirk on his lips when you a moan escaped you when he licked a line up your folds.

His lips gently wrapping around your clit. Kissing it before he lightly sucked it. Causing your eyes to be sent to the back of your head and your hands gripping into the sheets. Your knuckles aching in pain but the pleasure between your legs overpowered the pain you had because of your grip on the bed. Your hands were the last thing on your mind. Slowly forgetting about what all has happened. Forgetting about the whole reason he ended up on his knees for you. All you could think about was why he was on his knees now and how his tongue rolled on your clit.

Your breath got heavier, and your moans started to get louder. Your legs trying to close around him. But his grip on you kept you in place. Your body still but your head spinning as his tongue started to move faster. One of his hands leaving your hip and circling your entrance. Slowly pushing his long finger into you. Curling his finger up and reaching places that you could never reach on your own. Your body shaking, you moaned out his name.

"I'm... I'm close-" You spoke weakly through moans, and he continued exactly what he was doing. Matching the speed of his finger with the speed of tongue. His finger deep in you and his mouth sucking your clit, you gripped his hair. Keeping his head in place as your climax hit you. Your moans stopping and your breathing slowing. Your hands slumping at your sides. He sucked his fingers clean, and he looked at you with a cocky smile. Feeling his eyes on you, you opened your eyes and looked at him. Raising up, you looked down into his eyes. His hands rest on the sides of your thighs, and you got closer. Your face mere inches away from his. You laced your fingers through his hair, then suddenly leaned down and kissed him. He moaned into your mouth. His cock straining in his jeans. His hand creeping up your body until he gripped your hair. Deepening the kiss. A sweet gentle kiss quickly turned into desperation.

The more the need grew the more heated the kiss got. The tighter the two of you gripped at each other's hair. Your hands moving down and pulling away from the kiss. Grabbing his shirt with a quickness you didn't even know you had. Pulling his white t-shirt over his head as fast as you could. His lips clashing with yours once more. A heat of desperate want and need. He rose to his feet, pulling you up with him. Never once breaking the kiss. Even when you started to unbutton his jeans and pull them down. His cock springing free. The two of you were like animals. Crawling at each other. Ripping each other's clothes off. His pants. Your shirt and bra. Being torn off of each other in a matter of seconds and being discarded to the floor.

The two of you spun and Tyler sat down at the edge of the bed. Pulling you down on top of him. Straddling his lap, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. His hand moving down between the two of your bodies and guiding his cock into your entrance. Gently pushing it in. His fingers gently digging into your hip. Biting his lips to mask his groan as best as he could. A soft gasp leaving your lips as you started to slowly move yourself down. Starting to take all of his long, thick cock. Stretching your pussy so perfectly. You kissed him as you started to roll your hips up and down.

The kiss quickly turning into all tongue and teeth. Kissing with the same desire that has been burning through the both of you. Wild animals set free. Animals that have been held back and hidden away from their needs. Unleashed to hunt. To hunt for that fire that they need in this cold world. Finding the heat that they need. Finding the heat in each other. In the kiss. In your bodies pressed together. The pleasure growing heavier as you broke the kiss. Throwing your head back with your eyes clenched shut as you were overwhelmed with the best pleasure you've ever felt. Tyler's hands digging into your hips as groans escaped his gritted teeth. Gasping, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he felt the best pleasure he's ever felt.

Your heart rates spiking and your breathing getting harder to control. The adrenaline of this better than any adrenaline you two have felt chasing a storm. No. This, this was the greatest thing he could ever chase. You. He held onto your waist, and he kissed you as deeply as he could as he felt his climax start to get closer and closer to him. His cock twitching and throbbing. Your walls clenching around him. It was too much for the both of you. He groaned loudly as he came. Your moans as loud as his as you came with him. Your knees weak and your hips slowing to a stop.

You both took a moment to try and control your breathing. Coming down from the high. Tyler left a soft kiss on your forehead, your nose, your cheek, then on your lips. He took a moment to soak in your beauty. Your naked body on top of him. Your forehead glistening with sweat. Your soft gaze. He knew in this moment that you were more beautiful than any tornado and definitely worth chasing than any tornado.

"What are you thinking?" Your gentle voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He cleared his throat. "Nothing." He said with a shrug and a big smile. Gently lifting you off of him. Cum dripping out of you. He laid you down on the bed. Leaning over to give you a kiss. Then he entered the bathroom. Returning with a warm bath cloth. He carefully cleaned you up. Then himself. Changing the sheets. He crawled into bed. Your head laid on his chest and his strong arms wrapped around you.

"I'll see 'ya in the eye of the storm sweetheart."

#twisters #twisters 2024 #twisters fanfic #twisters smut #tyler owens #tyler owens smut #tyler owens fanfiction #tyler owens fic #tyler owens x reader #x reader #smut oneshot #smut fanfiction #top gun maverick #glen powell #glen powell fanfic #tyler owens imagine

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sophie-looks-at-stuff · 5 months ago

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The Dragon and the Dragon-less

Pairing: Aemond x Strong niece reader

Summary: The night Aemond had lost his eye, his sweet niece was the only one to provide him any sense of comfort. Many years later, when she returns to Kings Landing with her family, what should become of the two? ;)

Warnings: bad ship terminology (idk boats y'all sorry), Rhaenyra being kind of a bad mom (love her tho), Targcest/incest, softer Aemond, smut in the dragon pits, this one is kind of long haha

AN: Hey y'all! Since my first fic seemed to be received so well (thanks so much to everyone for that:) I decided to write another one! I'm staying on the Aemond train since I've never left it since day one haha. Let me know tho if there are any requests!

PS: I haven't gone through and totally edited this so don't mind the spelling or grammar issues if there are any!!

It had been awful, you remembered hearing the screaming and shouting from your chambers. The screeching having woken you up from a rather pleasant dream about eating cake–

In nothing but your night clothes, and a quilt draped around your shoulders, you padded down the chilly hallways of Dragonstone.

“ – it was my sons who were attacked!” You hear your mother yell. Concerned you took a few more steps forward, finally able to make out the scene before you. Your mother and your brothers to one side, while Alicent and her boys on the other, the fire raging in the hearth between them.

Your wide lilac eyes meet those of your stepfather, Prince Daemon, he reaches a hand out towards you as if to say “Come here”. Your feet did not move, rooted to the spot, eyes glancing around the room once more. You see something you hadn’t noticed before, Aemond, in the corner of the room, surrounded by maesters. A hand over his eye, thick, sticky fluid oozing from between his small fingers. Gasping, your own hands fly to cover your lips, perhaps to muffle the noise, or maybe to tame the scream building in your throat. Aemond’s healthy eye meets yours, pain, sadness but most of all fury over taking his features.

Just then your mother turns to meet you, her gaze worried and frantic, “My sweet girl! You should return to your chambers this is no sight for you dearest,” her hand, also bloody you notice, rests above her heart.

“Mother, w-what has happened? Aemond, h-he, is he alright–” You begin to question, Daemon takes a step towards you and you take one forward into the room. Your concerned gaze flits over to Aemond once more. Despite the fire in the hearth, the chill of the room has set into your bones, causing you to pull the quilt tighter around your shoulders.

“Come now byka zaldrīzes (little dragon) let us return you to your quarters. Aemond will be fine,” Your father attempts to comfort you. Maybe you are too tired to argue, or too shocked, your mind still attempting to comprehend what has happened. But you let your father guide you back to your chambers, the quilt trailing behind you like a cloak.

With a lullaby and a pat on the head, Daemon bids you good night once more. Closing the door softly behind him, his heavy footsteps receding off into the distance, presumably back to your mother and brothers. It feels like hours as you stare at the ceiling, listening, straining your ears for even just a morsel of information. But the halls beyond your door remain as silent as the grave. The chill in your bones is stubborn, making you shiver. Sitting up and swinging your feet over the side of the bed, you wrap the quilt around your shoulders once again. As silently as possible, you open the door, the hall is empty save for the torches lining the walls. You’re bathed in the fiery orange glow as you step fully into the hall.

You’re not quite sure where your feet carry you until you turn the corner and are met with Ser Criston Cole. His tall stature taking up the door frame of the young prince's room, his gold cloak behind him like an inverse shadow. It’s not until you come to stand in front of him that he addresses you.

“Princess, you should not be here. You should return to your chambers,” He looks down his nose at you. Your knuckles turn white from the tight grip you have on the quilt.

“Please, Ser, I must see the Prince. What has happened to him? I must know if he is alright–”

“Your brothers have maimed him. Who’s to say you aren’t here to do the same? Perhaps your whore of a –” The door behind him creaks a bit, one of the maesters appears in its place. Bloodied rags and a needle are held in his hands. He sighs “The prince says she may pass Ser Cole,”

With one last look of annoyance and a warning mumbled under his breath, the knight lets you pass. The room is dark, lit only by a few candles on the bedside table. Aemond’s hunched form lays on the bed, the blankets up to his chin. As you make your way closer you can see the true horror of what has happened this evening. Where his eye once was, now lays only marred flesh, red and angry, the stitches pull at the swollen skin. You gasp, shocked, a sick feeling settling into the pit of your stomach.

“Ugly isn’t it?” Aemond asks you, bitterness lacing his voice. As he speaks you make your way to his side, sitting lightly on the bed, next to his hip. Your small hand searching for his under the covers, to comfort him, or maybe to warm your own.

“H-how did this happen? Who could possibly have–”

“Your brothers. Lucerys stole my eye. But an eye for a dragon is a fair price to pay is it not niece?” A proud, sad smile graces his features. While your brothers had dragons since they were but babes, you were not as lucky. Syrax had not laid a full nest, and your mother had decided it was best to give your brothers the two eggs. All the while you have remained dragonless.

“Vhagar is now mine, and on the morrow, we shall leave this wretched place. And I will fly on dragon back to the Red Keep.” His singular lilac eye meets yours. “I promise you, sweet niece, one day I shall take you for a ride on dragon back. Show you the freedom that comes with it,” His previously bloodied fingers intertwined with yours.

“I would like that very much uncle,” Looking down at your joined hands, a small smile of your own matching his.

— — — — — — —

The waters of the sea lap against the side of the ship, the slap against the wood echoing around you. Overpowered only by the screeching of your family's dragons above you. Alone, you ride on this ship, well alone save for the ship hands and captain assigned by your father. Still, at the age of nine and ten, you remain dragonless, made to travel to the Red Keep by boat.

Your brothers claim to Driftmark had come into question, prompting the visit back to your old home. You hadn’t been back here since–

Your mother and father had determined it best to keep the family at Dragonstone after Aemond lost his eye. Although you had always suspected part of the reasoning for that was your mothers fear of retribution from Alicent for what your brother had done. Perhaps it was a long time coming though, your brothers as well as Aegon had picked on Aemond ruthlessly for years prior to that night. You had been spared only by the simple facts that you were a little girl, and just weren’t in there presence as much. Despite your pleas to join in the yard for training you had been denied, and turned towards the library instead to study “things more befit for your station” as your mother had put it.

“We shall dock shortly Princess,” the ship captain’s voice drifted to you from behind the wheel. You stood on the platform with him, looking beyond the masthead, you see Syrax and Caraxes land in the dragon pits. You sigh, it looks like you’ll arrive alone at the Red Keep, not expecting your mother to wait for you. Her and Daemon needed to prepare for the events of tomorrow.

Arriving at the Keep felt haunting, the lack of a welcome only contributing to that fact. Once docked, you were met by a singular carriage and it’s driver. The captain had assured you that your belongings were to be delivered to your chambers shortly. For all your fathers faults he did have good trust and faith in those he employed. The ship’s captain had been with your families since you were a girl. He and yourself not unfamiliar with these lonesome journeys.

The gates of the Red Keep came into view as you rolled over the bumpy roads of Kings Landing. Gold Cloaks lined the gate’s walls, closing the massive gate doors behind you, shutting you in, locking you within the castle grounds. The carriage comes to a jumpy halt, the driver offering you his hand as you disembark your ride. Your fingers slip into his as your boots squelch in the mud below you, the clanging of swords and metal meet your ears.

“Nephews, have you come to train?” A voice says, one you could not recognize. From across the yard you see your brothers, you wave to them, hoping to catch their eye. Luke turns his head towards you, a small smile playing at his lips. Noticing this, the source of the voice follows his gaze, a singular lilac eye meeting yours.

“Niece, how you have grown–” Aemond’s lone eye takes in your figure. My how you’ve grown indeed. Last time he had seen you you barely came up to his chin, your silver locks a messs contained in small braids. The flush that never seemed to leave your cheeks remained however. You had grown taller, still standing shorter than himself, which he finds excites him a bit. More than it should perhaps. You had grown into yourself in a way that was very pleasing to his eye, your face fuller and lovely. Your curves soft and plush, inviting him to touch and caress them.

“Uncle,” you offer him a small curtsey. You can hear Jace scoff, as if annoyed by the action. Wanting yo say more, but not knowing what, you continue to look at one another. Your own eyes take in your uncle, he had grown taller, much taller. His muscles lean and corded beneath his tunic. His silver hair almost as long as yours, is pulled back slightly in a braid. Some hanging free, escaping their confines during his sparring. His eye was now covered in an eyepatch, made of black leather, the tops and bottoms of the scar still visible even with it on.

The arrival of another carriage turns your gaze to the left, where you yourself had arrived only moments ago. Vaemond Valaryon steps out of the carriage and into the yard, sparing a glance at the Prince and your brothers. A look of disgust crosses his face as he lays his eyes on Luke.

— — — — — — —

The meeting to question Lucerys’ claim to Driftmark is long and dull, at least in the beginning. Mustering his limited remaining strength your grandsire had sat the thrown. Disputing Otto and Alicent in their claims. He looks horrible you think. His skin looks to be gray and sloughing off of his bones. The Stranger would be coming for him soon. It is not until Vaemond brings into question your brother’s parentage once again, that the apprehensive peace shatters.

“And she is a–”

“Say it,” your father’s hand that rests on the hilt of Dark Sister tightens, knuckles whitening.

“ – a WHORE!” In one swift blow, Daemon sends Vaemond’s head rolling across the floor of the throne room. Blood trailed behind the appendage like a snail’s trail. The room is filled with gasps and short screams. Your own eyes widened looking at the head on the stone floor before you. By no means are you unfamiliar with your father's violent nature, and nor should the rest of the court.

“Let him keep his tongue,” Daemon wipes the blood off of his blade, stepping back, sheathing the sword once more.

As if some kind of magic pulls you, you lift your eyes from Vaemonds severed head and meet those of your uncle. A smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, he looks to be well entertained by the violent display. Caught in your staring, Aemond’s gaze rises to meet your own, his smirk widening into a more sadistic smile.

“Now, for the final order of business. A more pleasant way to end this affair,” the king says, his mellow voice carrying across the stone-lined room. “I am blessed by the Gods to have such a large family, but it appears that the Gods hope to bless us some more,” It was becoming increasingly more clear that Alicent’s love for The Seven has bled not just into the castle but its people as well. You think maybe it gives the king something comforting in his final days.

“My son, Aemond, a fine warrior and scholar,” Aemond stands rigid and straight, uncomfortable with the new attention from his father. “And my granddaughter, if your mother had not already claimed the title of Realms Delight then it would be most certainly passed to you.” Your cheeks flush a bright pink, warmth rising to the tips of your ears.

“This family has been divided for quite some time, I tend to rectify that. Aemond, my son, and my granddaughter the princess, shall be married,” The reactions around the room are mixed, some people applaud, some cover their shock with their hands. Wide, prying eyes jump between you and Aemond. You dare a look in his direction, he is still staring, the smile gone from his face now. Confusion, shock, anger? You cannot tell but it is not sweet, and it is not kind.

A wave of confidence washes over you as you step forward, “What is the meaning of this? Why have I not had any indication of this until now?!” You feel your mother’s hand grasp your elbow, urging you to stand beside her, silently. “It is the wish of your grandsire, byka zaldrīzes (little dragon). He is dying, do not fight him,” Your head whips aside, meeting her eyes, eyes filled with sadness. Did she know of this? Did she approve of this? Your father would not meet your eyes, nor your brothers, Jace toeing at an invisible stone on the floor. Did they all know, except for you?

You tear your elbow from your mother’s grasp, she opens her mouth to speak once more, but your back is already turned. Your feet lead you towards the grand door. You had to leave, you needed to be anywhere else but here. Your chest tightens, your breathing ragged. Not with sadness or grief, no, but with anger and fury. You feel as though you could breathe fire as the dragons do. An angered scream tears past your lips, reverberating off of the stone walls of the Red Keep.

— — — — — — —

You had decided it best to skip the family feast. And a good thing too, unbeknownst to you it had gone horribly. Lucerys mocking Aemond over the roasted pig, Aemond's “final tribute” to his Strong nephews. No, instead you had taken your dinner in the library, back amongst your beloved books. The sun had set an hour or two ago now, the torches along the halls lit. You didn’t know how late it was, you had been much too absorbed in your novel Lady Coryanne Wylde, A Cautionary Tale for Young Girls.

The wax on the candles had burned low, and your wine had turned cold. It was time to retire. Taking the book with you, you began to make your way toward your chambers, your old chambers. The last time you had slept there you had been but a girl. As you turn the corner you are met with a hard wall of warm, corded muscle. Your book tumbling to the ground. A pair of strong hands plant themselves on your shoulders, to steady you.

“Careful niece, someone might think you are up to no good, wandering the corridors, at night–alone” The smile from earlier returns to his lips, and just then, he notices the book on the floor. His smile becoming impossibly wider, you don’t think you’ve ever really seen Aemond smile, not like this anyway. It’s nice, you think to yourself.

“What’s this dear niece,” he bends down to pick up the novel, his slim fingers sifting through the pages, his eyebrows lifting. “Well, well, who would have thought–”

“Give that back!” You reach to snatch it from him, like a child, but he just holds it higher over his head. “Tell you what, I made a promise to you. Do you remember?” Of course, you remembered, you still thought about it sometimes, but all hope of fulfilling it had left you.

“Yes–” it came out more hoarse than you had intended. Your hand frozen, outstretched, Aemond still held the book over his head.

“Come with me to meet Vhagar, for a ride,” he leaned closer to you, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “Come taste the freedom of the skies with me niece.” He had tucked the book behind his back. Aemond wasn’t a man who typically waited for an answer, nor was he one who liked when people disagreed with him. He’d throw you over his shoulder if he must. Even though his hatred for your family ran deep, he could never seem to hate you. You had endeared yourself to him time and time again as children, but the night he lost his eye. The night you visited him, the only one not angry, the only one not repulsed by his face. He knew then that he could never hate you, no matter how hard he’d tried.

Words had suddenly failed you, your tongue dry. You simply nodded instead. In response, Aemond straightened to his full, imposing height, and turning without a word, he began his stride down the hall, towards the dragon pits. You followed him, but neither of you spoke, the halls of the Red Keep filled with an odd sort of comfortable silence. His hair had grown longer, much longer, and he walked with a sense of confidence that hadn’t been there before.

The night air was chill, a slight breeze blew through your hair, tousling the strands. You were glad you had worn a gown with longer sleeves, it must be chilly up in the clouds. Aemond was sporting his riding clothes, the leather over his tunic reaching his wrists. He looked good, really good, you thought to yourself. The flush from earlier returning to your cheeks, as well as the warmth in the tips of your ears.

Aemond comes to a stop before the pits, waiting for you, the book still behind his back, taunting you. You suppose that was his insurance policy in case you had said no to joining him. You can only imagine your father's reaction to seeing you read such debauchery. You were his sweet little girl after all…

“Come now niece, no harm shall come to you while I am near,” He held his hand out to you, and you slipped your fingers between his. His hands are much smoother than the ship captains from earlier, you thought. His hand was warm, the blood of the dragon coursing through his veins. The sound of beating wings from up above drew you out of your daze. A dark shadow crossed over the pair of you, coming to land only several passes in front of you. Vhagar stood proud and strong, if not slightly tired. Her form was weathered by time and battle. It’s a blessing from the Gods that she can still take to the skies as she does.

Aemond drew you nearer to her, your hand still held tightly in his, like all those years ago. “Give her a pat, she won’t bite, not unless I tell her to,” He chuckled a bit at his own joke, your eyes widening slightly, making him laugh all the more. “No need to be frightened, she’s quite gentle actually,” He guided your hand up to the beast's snout, his fingers had moved to circle your wrists, making the action easier. Your hand lay splayed out before you against Vhagar’s scales, her skin impossibly hot. The hand on your wrists moves to cover your own on the dragon. From behind you, Aemonds other hand rests on your waist lightly, like a whisper on the wind. Mayhaps this marriage won’t be too bad after all? Your anger from earlier was not directed at him you realize, but rather at the other members of your family. You were never pleased when things were kept from you when you were lied to. You like his hand there, you like it a lot, it provides you a sense of comfort and security as you stand before this large beast. You wonder how his calloused hands would feel elsewhere…

Aemond retracts his hand, yours following closely behind, you can still feel the heat of Vhagar’s scales on the skin of your palms. You begin to be tugged backward in the direction of Vhagar’s saddle. Aemond motions for you to begin climbing the ropes that lead to the mount, he follows behind you; prepared to catch you should the need arise. The saddle is less like a saddle and more like a small chariot on top of the dragon. It comfortably seats the two of you, and could even squeeze in a third.

Aemond positions you in front of him, his legs caging yours, his arms reaching around the front of you to grasp onto the reigns. “Are you ready?” The question is whispered to you, his lips brushing your ear once more as he speaks. You rather like this position, the warmth radiating off of his body will surely keep you warm above the clouds.

“Yes, yes I think I am,” Your own hands come up to rest atop his, surely just to steady yourself, and not at all because you were becoming increasingly more desperate to touch or be touched by the man behind you.

“Sōvēs Vhagar!” Aemond pulls back and yells into the night air, sparring your delicate eardrums. The beast below you growls and jolts into action. She takes a few long strides before beginning to beat her wings, as she takes off into the crisp night air.

Eyes glued shut you think you yell out a little yelp of initial fear and surprise. Aemond’s legs press tighter down on your own as if to reassure you that you are safe with him and his dragon. As Vhagar evens out her flying, coasting just above the clouds, you dare to open your eyes. Behind you, Aemond cannot stop the smile from spreading across his lips, he cannot see your face but he hopes it is a happy one. He’ll take you out flying every day that you are married if it will make you happy. He would burn the world down if it meant he could keep you safe and happy. To make you his.

Truthfully he wasn’t all that surprised by his father’s announcement of your betrothal. As a boy, even before the incident, he had asked his mother and grandsire, Otto, what lords would court you, and if any would be good enough for a princess. It wasn’t until after he lost his eye that he first breached the subject of marriage to his mother. He’d told her he deserved it, that after all the pain he had gone through, it was only fair for him to spend his life beside someone whom he cared so deeply for. At the time his mother had just given him a kiss on the forehead saying “Perhaps one day, we shall see,” A sad smile had crossed her face then.

He’d given up on the hope of marrying for love after that. The ladies of court found him elusive and repulsive, opting to flirt with his brother, despite his marriage to Helaena. A few moons ago, Aegon had made a jest at Aemond’s expense, something about being tied to a Strong for all eternity. He had ignored it, deeming it nothing more than one of his brother's drunken comments. However, after the events of today, it seems he was not jesting after all.

Aemond is broken out of his thoughts by a lovely, bubbly sound. You’re laughing, your arms spread wide, fingers splayed out letting the wind rush through them. He immediately goes to grasp your waist, his legs still caged around yours, steading you, anchoring you to him and the saddle.

“What the sweet Hells are you doing?! Put your hands back on the reigns!” He exclaims. You giggle some more, the wind drying your teeth as you smile.

“I cannot uncle! You were right, this is marvelous! I feel as though I could rule the world from up here!” He had never seen anyone as dazzling as you were in this moment. Vhagar gave a slight jolt as she began to descend back downwards, causing you to jump forward a bit, hands grasping the reigns once more.

“I told you – “ He murmurs against your hair, placing a small kiss on your head. After another moment Aemond begins to guide Vhagar back towards the dragon pits. There’s a strain in his trousers he can ignore no longer. Years of pent-up desire and want boiling over. Ever the gentleman, he assists you in descending the beast. This time he goes first, his hand in yours as he helps you with the final jump down.

“That was incredible, uncle that was truly –” Aemond uses his grip on your hand to tug you forward, clutching you to his chest, his lips meeting yours. You gasp into his mouth, surprised by the boldness of his actions. Before you are given the opportunity to reciprocate, he pulls away, a slight frown on his face.

“My apologies, I should not have–”

“Yes, you should have actually. Why did you stop, I was quite enjoying myself,” You pull on the collar of his tunic, tugging his chapped lips back down to yours. Aemond uses his taller stature to guide you back up against a pillar within the pits. The two of you made only out of sight by half of a pillar, and Vhagar’s sleeping form.

“And what if I were to take you, right here? Right now? Like a scene from your debaucherous novel,” He exclaims, his lips moving, forming a trail from your jaw down to your collarbone. Surely leaving marks, and love bites as he goes. Oh if only his brother could see him now, he thinks that perhaps Aegon would congratulate him on finally “getting it wet”.

His grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you impossibly closer to him. He was everywhere, all of your senses were overwhelmed by him. The smell of the oils used to wash his hair filled your nostrils, the smokiness from Vhagar had made a home in the threads of his clothes. You’re nearly positive that you must smell similar, you’ll need to get your gown cleaned certainly.

Your hands began to fumble with the belt of his trousers, your fingers making clumsy work of the buckle. Aemond pulls away only for a moment to assist you, then he begins to work on the strings of your corset. His movements were desperate and quick, neither of you having the patience to wait much longer. All the while his lips never left your skin. You feel him smile against your skin as Vhagar makes a slight noise of annoyance at your escapades. Somehow between your messy kisses, your skirts had been rucked up to your hips, Aemond’s deft fingers making contact with your small clothes.

“You’re rather wet dear niece. Do I rile you up so huh? I wonder how wet you’ll be with my cock inside your sweet cunt,” He says that last bit almost more so to himself rather than you. In response, a small whimper escapes your lips. Aemond looks up to meet your eyes. A certain twinkle reflects at you from his.

“Another night I shall spend hours ravishing you, but I need to be inside you, now.” He gives his cock a few strokes, preparing himself. Your eyes widen at the sight, his shaft long and thick, his head red and leaking arousal. It was, invigorating, knowing that you could illicit such a response from him. With a delicate kiss to your lips and one final look of permission, Aemond sheathes himself inside you. Your warm walls squeeze him perfectly, welcoming him in. Gods he could stay right here like this forever.

“ – move. Aemond Gods move please,” You begged him, your walls had adjusted to him. Feeling wonderful and full. He began slow, his thrusts taking on a rhythmic flow. Aemond tucks his face into the crook of your neck, smelling your hair, his grunts and groans in your ear. You drag your nails down his clothed back, perhaps next time you’ll be able to fully leave your marks on his skin. Thank the Gods Vhagar had decided to remain put, it would ruin your honor should anyone find you like this; even though your virtue was promised to him already.

“Fuck– I don’t know if I’ll be able to last much longer ñuha jorrāeliarzy (my beloved). You are just too perfect–” He cuts himself off with a grunt.

“Finish then, let go Aemond, let got for me please, I–” You beg him, you need it just as much as he does.

“Not before you ñuha jorrāeliarzy (my beloved).” Aemond moves down to circle your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure up your spine. The pace of his thrusts picked up, your hands remained looped around his neck, anchoring yourself to him.

“Aemond, oh Aemond, Gods I’m gonna–” The words that left your mouth made hardly any sense. The words and phrases twist and turn into a bizarre hymn to your betrothed.

“Cum, cum for me Jorrāelagon (love), give yourself over to me–” Aemond begged you. His lips biting and nipping at the flesh of your neck. On his command, a wave of pleasure washes over you, like the seas crashing into the shores of Driftmark. You remember drifting off to sleep as a girl to the lullaby of the sea. Aemond’s own release follows closely after your own. Still nestled inside of you, he rests his forehead against yours, sighing contentedly.

“You know, when I was a boy, I had asked my mother to ask Rhaenyra for your hand. I had begged her actually,” He chuckles a bit at his anecdote.

“Did you?” You laugh along with him, less at the story and more so at the ridiculousness of your current situation. You feel him nod, his forehead brushing against yours as he does so.

“Well,” you say in response, “ I had always wanted a dragon of my own. I had begged my mother actually”, you imitate Aemond’s words, giggling a bit as you do, “but now I need not ask any longer. For I have my very own dragon right here.” You place a kiss on his nose as you say this.

“Well my love, no longer shall you be dragonless, not as long as I am around anyways,” Aemond reassures you. He supposed he had two dragons now as well, with Vhagar he would burn the world down, but you gave him a reason to do so. With fire and blood he would protect you, love you, for that is the way of the dragon, that is the way of Prince Aemond Targaryen, your beloved betrothed.

Tag List:

@ helaenaluvr @ anukulee

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x you #house of the dragon #prince aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aemond x reader smut #hotd #aemond #prince aemond targaryen #soft aemond #sweet aemond

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l13 · 7 months ago

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cw: nsfw! 18+ mdni, f!reader

BEST FRIEND'S DAD!CLARK KENT who has to subtly give you a once over when Jon introduces you as his best friend from uni. Has to try not to smile as you stare at him dreamily. Who feels strangely satisfied when you manage to say “Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Bf's dad, Clark, who tilts his head to the side just the slightest bit, and offers you his hand as if you weren't eye fucking him just now, “Pleasure's all mine, sweetheart.”

Bf’s dad, Clark, who always greets you with a big smile when you come over.

Bf’s dad Clark, who holds the car door open for you when he drops you off at your house late at night.

Bf’s dad, Clark, who’s so easy to talk to. Who listens carefully whenever you speak, always holding eye-contact. Who despite his size, is an absolute sweetheart. All wide eyes and dimples.

Bf’s dad, Clark, who the waiter mistakes for your boyfriend when taking your order, Jon conveniently timed to have been in the bathroom. Clark’s eyes widen comically, ears and cheekbones turning a lovely shade of red, as he waves his hands lowly, “Oh we’re not-” “So what’ll you have, honey?” your voice cuts him off, eyes still on the menu as you flip through it. When Clark doesn’t answer, you look up at him, raising your eyebrows and biting back a smile.

You were enjoying this, he realized.

Bf’s dad, Clark, who can’t look at you in the eyes ever since. Who fidgets when you enter the room, making up any excuse to leave just to avoid thinking about you in that way. Because he does think about you. A lot. How couldn’t he? With your glitter covered eyes, lip gloss stained lips, and short skirts? He was a goner. He’d rather kick a wall than have to watch you reapply your lip gloss for the nth time.

Bf’s dad Clark who has to pause his reading, glasses hanging from the bridge of his nose when you come over all giddy after a nail appointment, nails painted milky white, bows and other trinkets decorating them. Who has to hum and nod when you show them to him, acting as if he isn’t imagining your pretty hands around his cock. “Mm. Very pretty,”

Bf’s dad, Clark, who has to watch you put cream on your legs while you’re all watching a movie. As if it's very common to do so in front of your best friend's dad. He thinks it shouldn’t be as erotic as it looked. Clark tries hard to keep his eyes glued on the tv and not stare at the way you sensually rub your hands up and down your thighs and calves.

Bf’s dad Clark who stiffens up, when Jon claims that “your legs are so sticky after though,” because how would his son know that?

Bf's dad Clark, who tosses and turns all night, trying to think back to all your past encounters, trying to pierce together how he missed the fact that you and Jon were dating. Because if you were, he was downright fucked.

Bf's dad Clark, who slowly starts getting mad at his son for not making it more obvious. For not kissing you whenever he saw you, not offering to drive you home, not treating you right. Clark who groans lowly and runs a hand down his face when he realizes that he's jealous of his own son.

Bf’s dad Clark who corners Jon the next morning, asking him all sorts of questions. “We’re obviously dating dad, I thought you knew..?”

Bf's dad, Clark who turns rigid, raising his voice at Jon for the first time in his life, still trying to be quiet for your sake, as you’re still sleeping upstairs. Whose fury isn't pointed to the fact that you and his son were dating, but more so to the fact that Jon didn’t pamper you enough. Didn’t give you any extra attention, didn’t spoil you like you deserved. And poor Jon has to hear his dad tell him to “Be a good boyfriend, I taught you better than that.”

Bf’s dad Clark, who gives his son a pointed look when you finally come down to eat, yawning as you grab some cereal. Who has to watch his son turn and give you a quick peck on the lips, and then continue eating as if nothing happened. Has to watch you blink twice in surprise before shrugging and going back to your own food.

Bf’s dad Clark who regrets telling his son to be more physical with you because he almost breaks a glass in his hands when he sees his son hugging you from behind one evening.

Bf's dad Clark, who clenches his jaw when you announce that you're going to leave and Jon jumps up to escort you, and walk you home. Clark who so badly wants to insist that he can take you home. That it's too cold out to walk, that a drive would be better. Clark who keeps his mouth shut instead.

Bf’s dad Clark who wants to curse Jon for inviting you over to their summer house. Clark who has to watch you walk around with your tiny bikini, skin still glistening when you get out of the pool. Clark who clenches his jaw tight and looks the other way when you offer to help Jon put some sunscreen on.

Bf’s dad Clark who finds you in the kitchen that same night, swallowing hard as he watches you take a bite of a strawberry you were holding, claiming you were craving something sweet.

Bf’s dad Clark who fucks you right against the counter you were leaning against, who has to hold his hand over your mouth as he circles his hips against you, his cock snug inside your tight cunt. Clark who melts when you give him an open-mouthed kiss, begging him to take you to bed. To his bed.

Bf’s dad Clark who can’t find himself worrying about the creaking of his bed when you’re riding him so well. Clark who hisses, and whose eyes roll back when you graze your nails against his pecs. Who has to fight the urge to bend you over and fuck you till you’re crying, has to remind himself that you’d definitely wouldn't be quiet then, when you’re barely keeping it together now. Clark who pulls you skin tight against him, who loves to feel your moans and whimpers against his lips.

Bf’s dad Clark, who wakes up the next day with you in his arms, swears he’d never slept so soundly in his life. Bf’s dad Clark who presses kisses all over your face, who later fucks you in the shower, and despite not wanting to ruin the moment, has to say something,

“Fuck, we can’t do this again. You’re dating my son, for God’s sake-”

“Clark. Jon is gay.”

oh.

2024 © l13 | Do not steal, copy, edit, translate or re-post any of my works.

#dc x reader #clark kent x reader #superman x reader #clark x reader

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seresinhangmanjake · 2 months ago

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Hi there! I'm crazy about your stories about Feyd!! Truly brillant!! I've sren your accettino requests...wanted to know if you could a Feyd x reader where they are married and she let him keep the harpies. One day, while Feyd is in a council, reader gets attacked or someone tries to have his way with her and she's saved by the harpies, who kills the man and than take her to their room to care for her, and when Feyd arrives he reward them or something....you choose the endind.

Thankss

Protecting His

Feyd-Rautha x reader

Warnings/Notes: I made it a little bit different, so I hope that's ok. Mention of attempted assault, but it is not detailed. Goes with my His series, but you don't have to read it before reading this. I know this could've been smutty, but idk, the inspiration just didn't take it that route.

Words: 1360

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

“I apologize, my Lady,” the harpy says as she dabs alcohol along the fresh slash on your forehead. “It’ll only be a minute more.”

Your chuckle is a weak breath of air. “You saved me. The last thing you need to do is apologize,” you tell her.

She briefly pauses her work before continuing. “Our Lord na-Baron will not understand,” she says.

She’s probably right. Red will be blinding his vision. It’s enough that a guest in your home—an invited guest, a welcomed guest—tried to take advantage of you in a moment when you showed him kindness, but a plethora of additional factors will only heighten your husband’s fury: the fact that you allowed yourself to be alone with another man, even though that was against your intention; the fact that that man touched you and tried to do more; the fact that you’re bleeding because of it; and the fact that Feyd wasn’t the one to protect you, and in his place, one of the harpies was forced to step in. As if they weren’t in enough trouble already.

He’s been deciding what to do with them for days now, trying to figure out if they have enough use elsewhere to be worth keeping alive, but he’s been coming up short, and you know their fates at the hands of your husband are unlikely to be forgiving.

They’d been so good for so long, so well-trained after they tried to take a bite out of you—literally—as you slept by Feyd’s side almost a year ago to the day. That act of disobedience cost them each a finger, but from learning their lesson, they eventually became trustworthy enough for Feyd to assign them as your handmaids. And they maintained the position until the unfortunate incident of one of them losing control.

She tried to take a nibble out of your flesh, and worse, in a moment when you were holding your newborn son. When Feyd learned of this, he lost his mind. Though the harpy acted alone, Feyd banished the three to the other side of the fortress and took the hand of the harpy who tried to have you for her next meal—this harpy.

You stare at the stump, a bandage replacing where pale, delicate fingers used to be. She’s lost enough. It’s not right that she suffer a lash to the neck simply for being within range of you. It’s not right that Feyd’s rage will have him do the same to the other two.

“I’ll make him understand,” you promise her as she covers the cut with a strip of tape, and as if on cue, your husband practically blows the door down with the force of a hurricane.

His eyes land on you and soften with worry at your injured state. They reharden as they find the harpy at your side. “What did she do!” he snaps.

You quickly rise to your feet, ignoring the dizziness that slightly blurs your vision, and place yourself between him and the harpy. “She saved me.”

He rushes toward her, but with your hands pressing into his chest, you keep him at bay. “She tried to harm you not a week ago!”

“And now she saved me.”

Feyd sucks in a breath through his nose, his shoulders rising and falling, his chest puffing and deflating. His eyes fall to your face. His brow knits as his hands cup your cheeks. He presses a long kiss to your lips, then says, “Are you ok?”

“Yes,” you say. “He would’ve done more if she hadn’t been there.”

“I gave explicit orders—”

“I know,” you intercept. “But would you rather a dead wife?”

It’s a blow. Not a wise one, considering he almost lost you during the birth of your son, but it’s reality. You could’ve died tonight. The man that wanted to hurt you wouldn’t have kept you alive to name him after the fact, whether you’re the na-Baron’s wife or not. He’s much too high-ranking, and without your voice there to reveal his lies, he could’ve pinned the crime on anyone.

Feyd’s hands drop from your face, and during your husband's brief placation, you glance over your shoulder at the harpy. “It’s best you go back to your cell now. A guard will escort you.”

She bows her head. “Yes, my Lady,” she says before she treads lightly around you and your husband to the door.

Only once she’s gone and Feyd has settled into his seat at the foot of the bed do you say, “Don’t kill her.”

His head snaps up. “You will not tell me what to do.”

“I’m asking.”

“Why?”

You snort. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Feyd crosses his arms over his chest. “Are you teasing me at a time like this? Your life–” His eyelids pinch and he shakes his head. “You could’ve–”

With a sigh, you move to sit beside him on the mattress. “I’m fine,” you tell him. “But you cannot punish her for saving your wife. It’s not right.”

He pauses in his contemplation before he says, “What was she even doing on this side of the fortress?”

“She said she wanted to apologize to me and that you wouldn’t permit it, so she snuck over,” you answer. “You could’ve at least let her do that much.”

“I couldn’t risk it,” he lightly snaps. “I couldn’t risk you and the baby.”

When your hand lands on his forearm, he takes your fingers between his. “And they don’t have to be around us ever again if that’s what you want, but please reconsider hurting them further. They were always kind to me and–”

“Except when they tried to steal you from me to eat,” he reminds you.

“Yes, well, they were more kind than uncontrollably hungry.”

Feyd stares at you long and hard. His thumb rubs back and forth over yours. “You’re serious.”

You give a single decisive nod. “I am.”

—

When Feyd unlocks the cell door and steps inside, two of the harpies skitter across the floor to Feyd’s feet. They paw at the ankles of his pants. One’s head nuzzles the toe of his boot. He pays them little attention, his eyes on the hunt for the one tucked in the corner against the stone wall. She shies away from the blazing ray of his glare.

“My Lord, we are very sorry for what our sister did,” the first harpy says—the eldest, the tallest of the three. It is most fascinating to see her so low. She tightens her fingers into the pants fabric, but Feyd kicks her off, and her entire body jolts back like a creature freshly injured.

“So very sorry,” the second, who has backed away alongside her sister, mimics.

“Please spare–”

“Hush, I’m not in the mood,” Feyd scolds.

“Y-You will kill us?”

Feyd finally tears his stare from the huddled harpy to the ones by his feet. “You can pray to the kindness of my wife that I will not be,” he says. “You,” he juts his head back to the other. “You get a reward that I expect you to share with your sisters.”

Her head lifts from where it was resting atop her knees. Her dark eyes widen a touch.

“A reward?” one of the others says.

“For us?”

Feyd gives a curt nod to the guard behind him, and a moment later, the man who attempted to take you against your will is tossed into the room. Already battered and bruised, he remains face down on the cobblestone flooring. A groan escapes through his lips, but that and the slightly pinkish hue of his skin from whatever blood remains in his veins is all there is as proof of life.

“A meal,” Feyd says. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

The three glance at the body and then back up at Feyd. He doesn’t say another word as he turns on his heel and signals his guard to relock the cage. He doesn’t look back as the screams begin to echo through the dank halls. He has better things to do, like tending to his wife. It’s been a long day, after all, and she could use the comfort.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha fic #austin butler #dune 2

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autisticrosewilson · 9 months ago

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While we're on the topic of De-aging AU's I wanna talk about Jason and Damian if Jason was 14 again real quick.

Do you guys think that Damian looks at this version of Jason, so different from the version he knows, nothing like the person he was told Jason was, and feels uncomfortably seen?

Damian was always told that Jason died because he was reckless, because he disobeyed orders, he was fired as Robin and he got himself killed. A cautionary tale, not a threat to his position. He dismisses Jason because Bruce does, because Dick does, because sometimes even Babs and Alfred do.

That's not the kid that he's looking at now. This Jason is happy, and smart, and full of love that has not yet soured into grief. He hangs on Bruce's every word, trains until his hands bleed and his body gives out to perfect the moves Bruce teaches him. He looks at Bruce with stars in his eyes and he calls him dad.

And Damian can't help but think, that this is the perfect Robin. The perfect son. And if Jason - sweet, loving, strong, Jason - can be fired, can die and have his room locked away and his pictures torn down, can have his last memory as Robin be as A Good Soldier, how could the rest of them ever compete? What could Damian do to stand a chance?

Jason will never grow out of the shadow of Robin, like the rest of them did. As long as Bruce, and Dick, and Babs, and Alfred look at him and see a dead kid who came back wrong, he will never get to be anything else. He will not get to be looked at through who he is now without the shadow of a dead boy looming over him.

And the worst part? Jason is exactly the same person he was back then. Bitter, sure, angry, justifiably, but he is still the boy with too much love in his heart and righteous fury festering in his gut. He is exactly the same boy who threw himself in front of an explosion to save his mother.

(The lines between the mother that betrayed him and the father that disgraced him are so very blurred. Fire or blade or crowbars or fists it does not matter. It ends the same way it always does because Jason Todd always dies, in every universe, in every timeline, Jason dies and crawls out only to be killed again and again and again.)

#dc #jason todd #damian wayne #de aging #I personally am obsessed with the headcanon that they met in the league which lends it's own sense of tragedy #but this is a more canon take on it #Bruce Wayne critical #do you guys think he watched Jason fall back into old routines and is so unbelievably angry because none of it matters #do you think he listens to Jason talk about homework and his grades and his clubs and the colleges he wants to go to #and all he can think of is how unfair it is #that Jason never gets it. That everything about who he was got distorted and exaggerated and there was nothing left of this boy #that the love and blood and late nights never mean anything because this is a ghost walking the halls disproving all the legends #what is the prodigal son to do when he comes home but the locks have changed

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elixirfromthestars · 1 month ago

Text

Tulip

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Florist!Reader

Summary: On a night when the past weighs heavy on Bucky, fate brings him to you.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warning(s): established nickname -> tulip / fluff / mentions of grief

a/n: After seeing how much people loved Biker Bucky in Usual I decided to share more of their story with you all 💕 This is going to be a bigger collection of fics, so I will have an official taglist for it and there's more info on that here. That taglist in this fic is not related to the tags on here. The tags on here were for just for fun!! Hope you enjoy!! Likes, comments, & reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

next in their story ♡ // the whole collection ♡

It was one of those nights where Bucky was irritated without reason. His face was etched into an intimidating scowl as he looked at nothing in particular in his bar. The laughter was too loud, the clinking of glasses irked his eardrums like nails on a chalkboard, and his heart felt heavy. Almost as if one of the men in his bar were pressing down on it with their heavy boot.

Bucky was getting tired of this. Of having these moments where his body thrummed with discomfort and his fingers found the familiar grooves in the wooden table he sat at—etching the oak with erratic lines until his nails were chipped and uneven. He could already hear the shit Sam would say as soon as he saw the added marks.

Bucky was getting restless—reluctantly so.

“Hey, Buck, one of the—”

“‘m goin’ out for a ride.”

As soon as Steve came over to give Bucky an update on the business, Bucky stood up from the table and dismissed himself. Steve held back a sigh, his lips forming a tight line as his best friend blew him off. He didn’t take it personally, at least not tonight. More than anything Steve was worried for Bucky. It was never easy seeing him fall into this state once a year.

Bucky always got like this around the anniversary of his father’s death.

Steve and the rest of the crew exchanged wary glances as Bucky pushed through the bar in a rush. His hands at his sides flexed as he sought out the comfort of his bike. He took out his leather gloves from his jacket—dark and weathered from years of wear—and slipped them on before mounting his Harley. It thundered to life underneath him, the deep rumble easing the tension in his shoulders.

He pulled out of his parking space, the blacked-out engine chrome gleaming under the streetlights. Bucky had no set destination, just a familiar path he had taken hundreds of times while on patrol. One that transgressed the entirety of the small town he lived in.

The small town he and his gang protected.

Bucky twisted the throttle, the Harley's roar echoing through the quiet streets as if warning the town of his presence. He drove down the roads at a steady speed, letting the breeze brush through his hair like a soothing balm. Hoping the night and his Harley would take away the hollow ache in his chest.

He couldn’t keep thinking of his dad. Not right now. There was too much going on in his life.

Bucky wouldn’t allow himself to be swept by the bittersweet memories. There were dozens of problems at the bar he needed to solve, rival gangs were stirring up trouble in neighboring towns so his people depended on him now more than ever, and his Ma and Becca relied on him as the sole provider.

Giving himself a moment to grieve—to feel—was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

After a full loop around the town, Bucky decided to survey the downtown area once again. It was nearing ten at night and the majority of the businesses were closed, and yet he was still adamant about getting a good last look before he returned to the bar.

He witnessed the usual: Yori and his son closing up their family-owned restaurant for the night, Mr. and Mrs. Fury bickering on their walk home, the savory aroma of Stark’s Pizzeria wafting through the air as he drove by, and a stack of wooden crates dancing in mid-air.

Hold up.

Wait a minute.

What?

Bucky had to do a double and then a triple take to make sure his eyes weren’t tricking him. He hadn’t had an ounce of alcohol tonight, and yet he began to gaslight himself into thinking maybe he had.

That was until you appeared from behind the wooden crates. Huffing out in annoyance and setting them down on the bed of an old pickup truck. Glaring at them as if the fury behind your eyes would suddenly make them ten pounds lighter.

Bucky stared at you from afar perplexed and yet with a ghost of a smile on his face. He had never seen you in town before, meaning you must have moved here not too long ago. A faint memory of Sam telling him a new shop owner was coming into town crosses his mind, but Bucky couldn’t remember all the details.

With a multitude of other things on his mind, he hadn’t been paying attention at the time.

The Harley’s rumble softens until it comes to a still as Bucky parks it on the street opposite you. He sits on it for a moment watching you, searching his brain for the finer details of what Sam had mentioned, but nothing comes to him. He’s left to find out more about you in the here and now.

Bucky suddenly catches the determined expression on your face as you go to pick up three of the wooden crates again. His eyes widen and before he even registers what he’s doing he swings off his bike and jogs over to you.

“Here let me help,” Bucky doesn’t ask or wait for a response as he easily takes the crates from your arms, lifting them as if they weighed nothing. You watch him in startled awe, wondering where this incredibly strong stranger had come from. Hand on your heart to calm yourself down from the sudden intrusion on your solitude.

“Oh! Um…you really don’t have to—”

“‘m already carrying ‘em, dollface. Jus’ tell me where to put ‘em.”

Bucky’s voice was calm and collected, but on the inside he wanted to ask you what the hell were in these crates. He’s used to carrying heavy boxes of supplies for his bar, but even then he’d use a hand truck to haul everything in. To think you were trying to carry all of this by yourself…he didn’t know whether to be impressed by your determination or laugh at your stubbornness.

The wooden crates obstructed your view of each other—and he’d never admit it—but they covered enough of his eye sight to where he had to tilt his head to watch his step.

“Here, let me guide you,” you placed a tentative hand on his arm, trying to ignore the way his bicep flexed under it. There was fragile cargo in those crates and you needed to make sure they got into your shop safe and sound. Bucky showed no signs of rejecting your guidance.

You carefully led him inside, sliding away any obstacles from his path with your feet. You were still adding the last touches to the decor so there were tools, supplies, and different sized cardboard boxes scattered across the floor. You were able to direct him to a spot in front of the main counter where he could put the crates down—the one area clear of anything.

He placed them down gently before turning to face you. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat the moment his eyes met yours. Your pretty irises glimmered with sincere appreciation coupled with a soft smile that caused an unfamiliar warmth to spread through his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at him like that. His brain has gone fuzzy, words evading him. Almost like a part of him that had been dormant for far too long was yearning for him to not break this gentle moment with you.

You on the other hand were enchanted by the color of his eyes. A rich blue you tried to pinpoint through the catalog of flowers in your mind. Could the color be matched to a morning glory? A harvestbell? A brunnera? Forget-me-nots? Delphiniums? Hydrangeas?

The longer you thought the more you concluded no flower seemed close enough to the particular shade of blue that was looking right at you.

“Thank you,” your voice was far too quiet for your liking when you broke the silence. You brought Bucky back to the present, yet not from the trance you had him in. He was particularly invested in the curve of your lips when you spoke and the way your eyes held his like you had known him all your life.

Bucky cleared his throat, propping his arm on the counter in a nonchalant manner, “Not a problem—looked like you could use the help.” He topped his cool reply with a casual shrug and smirk that made it seem like he did this all the time.

“Was it that obvious?”

“For a second there I thought those things would crush you.”

Your sheepishness melts away into a laugh. The sound leaving your lips before you could stop it. You imagine what you must have looked like struggling with those heavy crates. The mental image of it is enough to fill you with mortified mirth.

Your laugh elicits a soft chuckle from him—the first proper laugh he’s had in about a week or two.

“‘m gonna go get the rest for ya…” he pushes himself off from the counter, but his voice trails off by the end when he realizes he never asked for your name. A heartbeat passes and with one quick lookover your frame a nickname falls effortlessly from his lips.

“Tulip.”

Your heart does a little flip in your chest. You know exactly why he called you that. You were wearing denim overalls self embroidered with a multitude of small tulips adorning it in a range of colors. As if that weren’t enough tulips, you had two small pink tulip hair clips on either side of your head, pinning your hair away from your face.

“I-It’s Y/n, actually.”

“Pretty thing like you—Tulip suits ya.”

The nickname already had your heart fluttering, but the wink that followed his compliment had you weak in the knees. This man was handsome—deadly handsome. You had sworn off men for a whole year and counting—and now this man presented himself into your life tempting you to throw that oath away until it was nonexistent.

“Thank you, but you really don’t have to help with the rest um…”

“Bucky. The name's Bucky. And I don’t have to, but I want to, so don’t worry ‘bout it, Tulip.”

With an emphasis on the nickname he’s chosen for you, he makes a smooth exit, the smirk never leaving his face as he saunters back and forth from the pickup truck and carries in crate after crate for you. You distract yourself with miscellaneous tasks around your shop. Yet, your eyes drift to his form here and there greedily taking in his display of strength.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky notices, and every time he does he unknowingly straightens up his posture. Trying to make it seem as though the crates were as light as a feather.

When’s he’s all done—after ten crates in total—you’re behind the main counter, arranging a small basket of goods as he approaches you.

“That’s all of ‘em. Mind me askin’ what’s in ‘em?” Bucky motions over to the crates at his feet with a nod of his head. You present him with a basket of sweet spreads encased in decorated mason jars—the covers all distinctly patterned with different florals.

“They’re my homemade jams and honeys. As a thank you for helping me carry all those crates in here, I’m giving you one of each,” you hand him the basket and his features soften. His fingers hovering over the rim of the basket like he doesn’t believe he deserved such kindness.

“Tulip, ya really don’t have to thank me for helpin’.”

“I don’t have to, but I want to, so don’t worry about it, Bucky.”

When you echo his words from earlier and use them on him he lets out a breath of a laugh, a grin of disbelief on his face. He didn’t expect that. Having his words used against him in a good way.

He was used to the opposite of that.

You were something else and Bucky liked that. He liked that a lot. Especially the way you said his name, it sounded sweeter falling from your lips. As if his name were made out of the same sugary sweetness the goods in the basket were. It caused a stutter within his chest he wasn’t used to.

No one’s ever given Bucky butterflies this quickly–or maybe ever like this in his life.

For the next twenty minutes you both dove into small talk to get to know each other better. It started off as a pretext of a friendly conversation between two business owners, but it quickly became something more. You confirmed Bucky’s assumptions about you being a florist when you chatted away about your shop. Your outfit and the floral mosaic that decorated one of the walls—the one you told him your aunt had hand painted—was enough for him to put the pieces together. You learned that Bucky owned a bar a few blocks down, one that he ran with his childhood friends. He had served the military with a lot of them and even knew some of them since he was a young boy.

As if the leather jacket, the leather gloves, and the motorcycle parked outside wasn’t enough to tell you—he clearly was a biker. You knew as much when he had this passionate look in his eyes as he went on and on about him and his bestfriend Steve fixing up motorcycles since their high school years. He saw the same passion in your eyes when you told him the story of how your aunt had awakened your love for gardening. The very catalyst of events that led you to move into town and end up on this night here with him.

Both of you offered a part of yourselves in that conversation. An exchange that might seem small to others, but that to the both of you meant so much more. For you both had closed a part of yourselves off for quite some time.

For entirely different reasons, but with a similar outcome nonetheless.

“Let’s make a deal. I get to keep callin’ ya Tulip and you can call me for help anytime ya need it,” Bucky offers this after you explain to him that your aunt had only been visiting you and left a few days ago. Leaving you to finish up the preparations for the grand opening of your shop in a few days time.

“Tempting offer…” you start, pretending to think about it and hiding your delight at the thought. In reality, you could use the help, and seeing more of Bucky was an added bonus that was hard to refuse. You wanted to get to know him better—you couldn’t deny that—and this seemed like a perfect place to start.

Plus who were you kidding, you enjoyed being called Tulip.

“Alright deal,” your smile matches his when you agree. Bucky was in the same boat as you. Not knowing where this could go, not dwelling on what the future may hold, but certain that he wanted to spend more time with you.

Reluctantly, Bucky pulled away from the counter,“Well I gotta hit the road, the guys’ll be wonderin’ where I’ve been.” The vibrations in his pocket from his phone notifications told him as much.

You hid your disappointment behind a grateful expression,“Of course. I won’t keep you any longer. Thanks again for the help, Bucky. Let me know what you think of the spreads!”

Bucky grabbed a hold of the basket of sweets, and slowly walked backwards towards the exit as he wanted to keep his eyes on you for as long as he could. Every fiber of his being fighting to stay.

“Anytime, Tulip—and I’ll let ya know. Have a good night.”

“You too, Bucky. Drive safe!”

Bucky walked back to his Harley smiling like a teenager with a crush. His every step feeling lighter than earlier in the night. Whether he recognized it or not that day, it was all because of you. There was just something about you that was refreshing to Bucky, like the morning air after a night of heavy rain. The first rays of sunlight after a cold winter’s night. The cool breeze that brings you back to life on a hot summer’s day.

That was you.

You were the morning air, the sunlight, and the cool breeze.

He didn’t know it yet, but in due time he would.

In due time, you would be his Tulip.

tagging some lovelies who asked to be tagged & others who seemed eager to read more ♡ ♡ ♡

@fanfictionreaderfan @nicksolemnlyswears @tilltheendofthelinebuckaroo @princessjellyfishlove @thewritergremlin-rae

(these tags were only for this fic and not for the full collection, so if you'd like to be tagged for the full thing let me know!!)

#thebikerstulip #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #biker bucky #biker bucky barnes

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deliciousangelfestival · 3 months ago

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The Imperfect Couple - 3

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

A/N: Steve Rogers is older than Bucky here.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

You arrived at the new apartment, feeling a small sense of relief for finally being under a different roof than Caroline’s. The thought of enduring the same torture as before made your skin crawl.

As you settled in, you broke the silence. “Your mom offered the attorney to us.” You remembered how you had insisted the divorce attorney make it as quick and painless as possible. “Why didn’t you finalize it?”

Bucky’s gaze remained steady. “Not once did I think you were actually going to leave me.”

“There’s no marriage between us,” you shot back, your voice sharp. “If you’d finalized it, you could’ve easily married a woman your mother approved of.”

Flashback Start

You recalled every time Caroline mentioned another woman’s name as if they were more suited for Bucky. “You know, Rachel just graduated summa cum laude from Harvard in social politics,” she had said at the rehearsal dinner.

Then, on your wedding day, as you and Bucky sat together, trying to enjoy the celebration, Caroline approached, holding hands with a stunning woman. “Bucky, look who’s here? Katherine just arrived from London.”

Caroline’s voice dripped with approval. “Both of them went to the same law school.”

You clenched the fork in your hand so hard you thought it might snap.

Why the hell was she introducing another woman to you on your wedding night?

Did she expect you and Bucky to have a threesome with Katherine?

From that moment, you knew your place—an outsider who didn’t come from the pedigree Caroline so desperately wanted for her son.

When you finally left the house, you remembered her raising her champagne glass with a smirk. “I always knew you weren’t the one.”

Flashback End

“They need someone with a spotless record,” Bucky said, breaking you from your thoughts.

You stood there, your emotions a mix of anger and disbelief.

“I’m not making excuses for you. I know the old me wasn’t good enough, that I couldn’t be the man you could rely on,” he admitted, his voice thick with regret.

He looked at you with a desperation that caught you off guard. “You could poison my drink, stab me in my sleep. I wouldn’t fight it. I’d let you.”

His eyes, usually so confident and composed, were now filled with a deep, pained sincerity. The weight of his guilt seemed to crush him, and the shadows of remorse darkened his features. His hands trembled slightly, betraying the calm facade he tried to maintain.

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest. How could he say that so casually? What kind of twisted love was this?

“That’s how much I need you,” he confessed, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re using me,” you accused, your voice shaking with a mix of fury and sadness.

Bucky didn’t deny it. “Like I said, it’s a business relationship. But I’ve trusted you from the beginning. Put my faith in you.”

He reached out, taking your hands in his, holding them together like a prayer. “And I hope we can work together. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance to work in the White House.””

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The following day, you met Steve, the future Presidential candidate. He greeted you warmly, his genuine smile easing some of the tension you felt. You’d met Steve and his wife, Peggy, a few times before—honest people who never treated you like you didn’t belong. Steve had even defended you whenever Caroline or others looked down on you for not being in the same league as them.

"I’m so glad you’re here," Steve said, clasping your hand. "When did you arrive?"

You chuckled softly. "Well, when three Secret Service agents showed up at my door, who was I to say no?"

Steve chuckled too, though there was a hint of awkwardness in his eyes. He tilted his head slightly. "Let’s talk."

You walked together, the air thick with unspoken words. "I know it’s difficult for you to be here. I owe you big time," Steve began sincerely. He had witnessed your marriage crumble, and despite his and Peggy’s best efforts to support you and Bucky, things had fallen apart.

You sighed. "What confuses me is, why me? He could’ve chosen another woman, someone way more qualified."

Steve leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "To be honest, I think you’re the best option. He probably won’t show it, but Bucky was happy when he heard you were coming."

You scoffed, glancing over at Bucky, who was watching the two of you from a distance. "Impossible."

As you scanned the room, you spotted someone familiar—your brother, Tim. Excusing yourself from Steve, you made your way over to him.

"I’m glad you’re here," Tim said, his voice filled with warmth, though his eyes carried a weight of their own.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "I can’t believe you. You knew what I went through, and yet you’re working with him? You sucked up to him."

"Look at me," Tim said firmly.

You glanced down at him, seeing the determination in his gaze.

"Who’s going to hire a disabled person like me?" Tim who seated on his wheelchair, his voice wavered slightly as he spoke. He had been born with both legs, but when bone cancer struck his left leg, the doctors recommended amputation to stop it from spreading. That surgery had shattered his dreams of becoming a professional tennis player.

"It was James who offered me a job," he emphasized, "with a high salary."

Tim continued, "You can keep your anger, but face it, Y/N—they won’t pay the bills. For people like me, I need more money to survive in this world."

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Bucky appeared beside you.

"Hi, Tim."

"Hey," Tim replied.

"I'm going to steal your sister for a bit." Bucky turned to you. "Our next schedule is couple’s therapy," he said, his voice calm but authoritative, cutting the conversation short.

You hated this part. The thought of attending therapy with Bucky made your stomach twist with unease. You shot Tim one last look, a mixture of concern and frustration in your eyes, before following Bucky out of the room.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

As you and Bucky sat across from Aiden, the therapist, the atmosphere was thick with unresolved tension. The room was simple yet comfortable, with soft, neutral tones that were supposed to be calming but did little to ease the storm of emotions swirling within you. You could feel the weight of Bucky's presence beside you, a familiar heaviness that both comforted and suffocated you.

Aiden leaned forward, his expression neutral but attentive. "So, what are you feeling right now?"

You hesitated for a moment before speaking, your voice laced with frustration and exhaustion. "I don’t think I have the courage to live another day in his family. His mother is the devil spawn. Even seeing her shadow triggers me." The words spilled out of you, raw and unfiltered, a reflection of the years of pain and resentment you'd kept bottled up.

Aiden nodded, his gaze shifting to Bucky. "And what about you, Mr. Barnes?"

Bucky's eyes remained fixed on a spot on the floor, his voice steady but lacking its usual conviction. "I didn’t think that way. As long as we stick together, we can get through everything." There was a hint of desperation in his tone, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

You turned to look at him, disbelief and anger simmering beneath your calm facade. "From the beginning, we should’ve never gotten married. You only focus on yourself, never bothering to look behind you. Me, trying my best to fit into your circles."

Your voice wavered, the painful truth of your words cutting through the silence like a knife. You had always known you were out of his league—young and innocent, believing that love could conquer all.

But you had been wrong, and the reality of that mistake was too much to bear.

His mother’s voice echoed in your mind, the countless times she’d told you that you weren’t good enough, that you didn’t deserve him.

"Your mother was right. I don’t deserve you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s expression tightened, his guilt etched into every line of his face. "I’m sorry. I really am sorry." His voice cracked, the weight of his regret finally breaking through.

He had never wanted this—to see you hurt, to see you broken because of him and his family. But the damage was done, and the guilt gnawed at him, relentless and unforgiving.

Aiden observed the exchange, his eyes narrowing slightly as he spoke. "I see that you’re the victim here, ma’am. And your former mother-in-law is the main reason why." He glanced at Bucky, his voice firm. "Mr. Barnes, your mother hurt her deeply, and now you must do everything in your power to make amends."

Bucky nodded, his voice thick with emotion. "I will. I'll do anything to erase the hurt you’ve received from her." The sincerity in his voice was palpable, but it was clear that the guilt weighed heavily on him. He had failed to protect you, to shield you from his mother’s venom, and that failure haunted him.

Aiden’s voice softened, but there was a steely resolve in his words. "Use this pain, both of you. Let it fuel you to confront Caroline, to reclaim your strength. Don’t let her win. Turn this pain into power."

As you sat there, the enormity of the situation began to sink in. You had been through so much, and the path ahead was uncertain. You had expected to loathe the couple’s therapy, but surprisingly, it turned out to be a beneficial experience.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

After the couple's therapy, the silence between you and Bucky was palpable, each of you grappling with the raw emotions that had surfaced.

The therapy had stripped away your filters, leaving you both exposed—your anger and frustration flowing freely. Bucky remained stoic, absorbing your harsh words with an almost resigned patience.

Returning to the Barnes household, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The room was filled with Bucky’s family: his parents, Julius and Caroline; his brother, Shawn, who struggled with cocaine and felt diminished by his inability to meet Caroline’s lofty expectations; and Hazel, Bucky’s sister and Nate’s mother.

Hazel, having felt overshadowed as the spare child, had chosen a career in fashion to escape the constant comparison to Bucky, who was seen as the golden child.

You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Shawn and Hazel, both of whom shared your misery under Caroline’s disdain. But that sympathy was tempered by their enjoyment of watching you suffer, thanks to their mother’s contempt.

Greg, a family friend, was the bearer of the news that the whole family would attend the upcoming convention event.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you said firmly, your tone clipped.

“Why… why?” Greg asked, confused.

Caroline rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Here we go.”

Bucky tried to interject, “Don’t…”

You cut him off with a steely gaze. “After that consultation, you still want to continue this?”

Caroline's eyes narrowed. “I knew we couldn’t trust her.”

Shawn chuckled, and Hazel remained indifferent.

“Quiet,” Julius commanded, his voice brooking no argument. The room fell silent.

With a sense of finality, you approached Caroline. “You’re so jealous of me,” you said, your voice dripping with disdain.

Caroline’s eyes widened, a mixture of anger and shock. “What are you talking about?”

“Because you know I’m going to get what you can’t have,” you smirked, savoring the moment. “Being the wife of the Vice President.”

“You bitch,” Caroline spat, something snapped inside her. Deep down, you were right—she was jealous of you. You were younger, smarter, and luckier. It was her dream to be in your position, but now it seemed like she had paved the way for you instead. What’s worse, you didn’t fit her criteria at all. She felt you didn’t deserve this.

Without warning, Caroline lunged at you, grabbing your hair. The two of you were soon locked in a fierce struggle, yanking each other’s hair and grappling with a fury that left no room for remorse. The physical confrontation was liberating, an outlet for all the anger you had been holding back.

You felt no fear and no guilt towards the seventy-year-old woman. At last, you could release all the anger you had been holding in.

Waiting for karma takes too long, and you can’t expect God to do all the work. So you took this chance to give her a lesson she won’t forget.

“Stop! STOP!” Bucky and Julius’s voices cut through the chaos as they tried to separate you. Shawn and Hazel, their faces a mix of curiosity and apathy, slowly backed away from the scene.

It was a struggle to pry you apart; Caroline, in her rage, was more unruly and disheveled compared to your own controlled fury.

“Hufft,” you adjusted your disheveled dress and hair, glaring at Caroline with a fierce, triumphant look. “You know what? I hope your son wins, so I can rub my new position right in your face.”

Caroline’s expression was one of shock and fury, her face a portrait of someone who had been dealt a blow she wasn’t prepared for. Her eyes were wild with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

“You’re absolutely right,” you looked at Bucky, your voice steady. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance to live in the White House.”

Caroline’s gritted her teeth.

“If the world wants to see us as a happily married couple,” you said with a cold smile, “I’ll give them the most blissful marriage they’ve ever seen. It’ll be the kind of marriage everyone talks about when they mention a perfect union.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise at your cold declaration. For a moment, he was stunned, but as he processed your words, admiration and pride flickered across his face. He straightened, a hint of a smile forming, clearly impressed by your bold resolve and newfound strength.

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